#It's still christmas here don't judge me

[dilf-docs]

Hand To Heart (I'm Gonna Stay Faithful)

bfd!joel miller x younger!reader

summary: a pregnancy scare makes you realize just how deep you are in this.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, p. in v., pregnancy scare, fingering (WE GET IT U LIKE IT), bit of praise kink, humilliation kink, breeding kink (they're stupid and insane acc), dacryphilia, sex thru the looking glass (there's a mirror in reader's dorm), ANGST in capital, they're starting to catch the feels™ ur honor, hurt/comfort, plot thiccens, this people are clearly NOT in a good headspace btw idk we listen read and don't judge.

word count: 4,757 words

side note: everyone calling this joel nasty but thirsting after him too? was going to hold a trial over my citizens but yk... what the hell, sure! i too want nasty bfd!joel to ruin me: he can be my baby daddy who doesn't pay for child support of our 4 kids and we'd make way to bed for our 5th LET'S GO also spam time! but i also happen to write in wattpad, and got a pedro pascal social media fic going on :) it's on spanish tho, but if u speak the language and would like to tune in, u can read it here

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It's a regular Tuesday when his phone rings at ten in the morning.

"Dad"

Joel gets up from his desk in a brash move, immediately picking up his daughter's worried tone. Tommy bursts inside, telling him to calm down, but all Joel can hear is the anxious beat in his chest.

"What's it, babygirl? You okay?" his throat tightens. "Talk to me"

There's silence before she answers, as if she's unsure to continue.

"It's not me" he feels his muscles relaxing, but then Sarah drops the bomb. "It's y/n"

Joel's heart beats with a different type of worry.

"What's wrong with her?" voice firm but emotionless.

It's almost summer again, and he's still seeing you. In a way, you had carved a space for yourself in his cold heart, so naturally, fear settles in. He'd never admit this things out loud, though.

"I don't know, dad" his daughter starts to rush the words out, panic evident on her voice. "She has locked herself in the bathroom and won't stop crying. I-I didn't know who else to call"

"Don't worry" but it sounds like he's trying to convince himself. "M' comin'. S'anyone else in there?"

There's a pause on the line before she answers.

"No"

He thinks of you. He'd seen you cry before, of course, but it'd been over silly childish stuff, like getting sent to bed early or not getting what you wanted for Christmas.

He thinks of you. Images of your pretty face, etched in pain, make his stomach drop. It isn't fair: your face was one destined to be happy for eternity, your smile so contagious Joel would sometimes find himself surrendering to your juvenile joy, his crow feet a little more notorious since you entered his life and carved your space on it by force; a light in the dark.

He just couldn't bear to see a mirror of his dullness on your face. It wasn't right.

"Stay put. I'll be there"

He tries not to think about your eyes drained of life. He tries not to think he's the cause. And then, he hangs.

As soon as Joel enters your dorm, your perfume is up his nostrils, providing him with a sense of relief he didn't know he needed. It was comforting and familiar, words that used to be hollow now carrying a knowing feeling that stung right on his chest.

"Dad" Sarah calls out, going for a hug. Joel embraces his daughter tightly while caressing her hair. "I'm so glad that you're here. I didn't know what to do"

"Breath in, babygirl. S'alright" he looks at your door, closed. Broken sobs can be heard, and his wounded heart feels like a heavy burden on his chest.

"My class starts in ten" Sarah speaks against the fabric of his flannel, "but I just couldn't leave her like this"

His daughter has a good heart. At least one of them did, anyway.

"Go to your class" he's commanding before he can fully process what he said.

Sarah breaks the hug, looking at him with a look he can't quite place.

"What? But, dad-" she tries to protest, concerned for your wellbeing.

"I'll take care of it. Always do, haven't I?" he sees her hesitation, and afraid of where her doubts would take her, Joel adds a small joke in there. "Y'know those classes ain't free, kid. Go ahead"

"Okay" she gives up. "Just... tell me if anything happens, yes?"

"F'course. Trust me"

"I trust you"

He still remembers when Sarah's kindergarten teacher handed him that drawing: Joel was wearing a cape, and she said his little girl had told everyone in class his dad was a superhero because there was nothing he couldn't do. That same admiration and faith is there in her eyes, even as the small naive kid slips from his fingers and turns into the woman that stands before him. He's not the devil, but the worst father in the world, and that is pretty much the same to him.

When Sarah is out of your dorm, he's trapped inside the small room with your heavy crying on the other side of the door. He looks at the small place, thinking about all the times he's sneaked inside during the night, hiding like a criminal as you wait for him behind the door full of scrapped stickers, ready to capture his lips with an eagerness that gnaws his chest.

Now it's just him and your sobs, his terrified reflection displayed in the mirror in front of your bed, mockingly staring back.

What are you doing? it questions, and Joel, always ready to answer, has suddenly lost the ability to speak.

Forcing himself out of such a pitiful state, he approaches the door, knocking softly.

"Sarah" your hoarse voice speaks up, and just then, he realizes how much he loves hearing your voice, no matter how it sounds. "Don't you have classes to go to? Leave me, please. I promise I'm good, I-"

Joel hears your distress, so he interrupts what looks like the start of a nervous rambling wreck. Huh, doesn't he know you so well?

"Sarah's gone" a beat, "It's me, Joel"

As if you wouldn't recognize that deep voice even if you were deaf.

There's silence before the door flings open, surprising Joel, who takes a step back, barely noticeable to the rest, but obvious to you, who has spent hours admiring him and all his small movements, he who you could draw by memory and built in your head as real as he who was standing before you, his eyes circling with a whirlwind of emotions you can't quite place, yet make your heart race.

Joel takes in the sight of you, deciding it's unfair how good you look, despite your disheveled hair, run mascara and red-rimmed eyes: you are still the prettiest sight he's ever seen, and now he doesn't know what scares him the most.

"You're wearing my shirt" he says out loud his latest discovery. It's all he manages to say: not an are you okay? nor an what's wrong?

No, Joel just happens to be very stupid(ly in love).

"Sarah didn't see me" you hug the fabric that makes your frame look smaller, or maybe it's your tired composture that makes it seem that way, avoiding Joel from enjoying the way his shirt looks on you. "If that's what you wanted to know. Been inside there for hours, already was when she came by"

The fact that you rather explain and assure him of his supposed possible worries instead of sharing your own, makes his stomach tie on a knot. Were you too kind or perhaps selfless? Maybe just stupid(ly in love).

Joel grunts, and you're not sure if it's his way of dissmissing your comment (maybe he thinks you're lying), chastising you in a shallow manner or the fact that you're poorly trying to avoid the elephant in the room. Maybe he thinks you're still a foolish careless child who can't comprehend the weight of whatever it is you're doing by being with your bestfriend's dad behind everyone's back.

"Tell me" he gets closer to you, fingers on your cheeks, but they don't dig the skin, instead, his roughness hiding a surprising tenderness to them. "What happened, y/n?"

The rawness in his voice takes you by surprise. Joel Miller, who seemed a man impossible to waver, now stood before you, wrapped in a gloom that left you at loss for words, something akin to hope planting it's seed on your heart.

"Tell me" he demands, yet his pupils move as unsteady as your heart. There's no power for command in his voice, only what you could allude to helplessness.

Was it because you were putting up walls like he did?

Was it because the consequences of being with you are starting to dawn upon him?

Whatever it is, you don't like it.

"What's wrong?" he's pushing for an answer softly, such a contrasting image to that of him in bed. "Please, talk to me"

Please.

The words slip past his trembling lips, defenses crumbling.

Joel Miller hasn't pleaded since Sarah's mother packed her bags and walked out of their shared home. He promised himself he would never be vulnerable again, never at the feet of a loved one, beggin to be seen.

To be heard. To not be hurt. To be loved.

But here you were, red eyes blown wide at a confession spoken through other words.

Please.

Your chest feels heavy, breath constricted.

"Joel..." you utter his name like a prayer. As something to believe in; something to hold.

He rushes to your side, strong arms caging around you as your labored cries fill the tiny room.

"S'alright" he whispers against your ear, burying his face on your shaking shoulder. "M' right'ere, doll"

Your hold turns more desperate, practically clinging as if your life depended on it.

"Take your time, y/n" your name so soft, you feel like crying more. "I ain't goin' anywhere"

"Promise me" you whimper, holding tightly.

"I won't go" he assures. There it is, the same unwavering strength you know. It's for you, he thinks.

"Joel" you call out again, tone terrified. "I think I'm pregnant"

It takes him at least a minute to speak. Even to breathe.

"...What?"

He feels your erratic pulse against his chest.

"Joel. Look at me"

He doesn't feel your heartbeat anymore. Just then he realizes he's backed down, embrace letting go of yours. Joel takes in your eyes, shimmering with new tears and fears.

"Joel?"

"I'm here" his voice sounds like it belongs to someone else, and the reminder like it's for himself.

"I know" your small voice speaks up, "but, just- please, look at me"

Joel holds your gaze, and it's like your air supply as been cut.

We don't want this.

"Are you sure?" Joel asks cautiously, as if you were a small animal he's afraid to scare.

"No" you breath in. "I bought the test, but I couldn't take it... I was, for the very first time in my life, scared. But there's always a first, isn't it? That's when Sarah found me"

There's always a first. You weren't afraid when he pounced you next to his sleeping daughter, neither when you didn't stop coming and he let you in everytime, and absolutely not when he obscenely ate you out while Sarah was on the phone. No, you were brave―brave enough to stand defiant when his conflicting gaze pierced through you, daring you to be the first to leave this mess and forget about him. But you were brave because you stayed, despite it all.

That had to mean something, right?

"You said you wouldn't leave me" it comes out in a shaky breath; a threat. Your voice seethes with a quiet rage. "You promised, Joel"

Like the word promise was a dagger twisting on his insides, not a sacred oath.

So he forces himself to be that hero Sarah still thinks he is. After all, he promised her he's going to solve this, didn't he?

"I did" he runs a hand through his hair. "Got the test with you?" You slowly nod. "Take it, then. I'll wait here"

You don't move from your spot, chest still moving uneven under your labored breaths.

"When you come out, I'll promise I'll still be here"

He can't promise you more. The world? It's what you deserve but not what he can give; Joel can only give so much.

"Okay" your tone is clipped, and that's all you say before entering the bathroom and closing the door behind you.

The room feels smaller than it is, the small plastic stick feeling heavier in your fingers than it actually is. You hear the clock's tick, Joel's frantic pace and your own irrational beat. It feels like a bomb: ready to explode and destroy everything within it's range.

Time drags like a cigarette, walls closing over your shaking pale frame. Your phone has a timer going on, yet for some reason, it feels an end to your beginning. You hug your body, wishing it was Joel's arms doing so.

But you saw it: fear, hesitation. It was on his eyes, auburn cracking like wood under fire. He was weak, and so were you. All of this... it starts to loose it's meaning. What started as a summer fling now falls upon you like a second skin you can't quite wash off, and it's suffocating as much as the enclosed space where a stupid line could change the rest of your life forever.

Joel outside isn't doing much better. He's aware his walking probably set you on edge, so now he's sat at the small bed that dips under his weight. He takes one deep breath, two―then looses count.

How could he be so careless? For a brief moment, why did he let himself believe it could be?

For God's sake: you were his daughter's friend. He had seen you and Sarah play on his house, laughing on his porch, gossiping on her bedroom. Growing up.

He wanted you, a desire so consuming it sometimes kept him up at night, thoughts confusing with something else. Probably fear, probably acceptance.

Joel is aware you changed his life. You, with your wild spirit and obnoxious laugh. You whom he couldn't tear his gaze away when standing in the same room, a magnetic force making the world around you drawn to you and that dangerous allure you had that made it impossible to resist you. To forget you. To live without you.

He feels dirty. A monster. A wolf with an insatiable hunger, sinking his canine teeth on your soft flesh. He'd drink your blood, to always keep a part of you with him; to be one. Like a lamb sent to the slaughter: but you wanted it. You had placed your head inside his jaw; trusting. As if knowing he could devour you, yet he'd never hurt you. Daring, almost.

Show me you can love me. Take a bite. Take me as yours. Mark me. Ruin me for anyone else. My blood, it belongs to you. This isn't a sacrifice―this is love.

When you exit the bathroom, hand holding the pregnancy test, it's all clear to him.

For a moment even, Joel forgets there's a world outside and sees a small baby: they have your smile, your eyes―and nothing of him, because you're the sun of his moon, the light of his darkness, and that baby is a mirror of you and your beauty. You and your warmth, devoid of his cold and far from where his filth can taint it. They have to look like you, because you are the most beautiful person in the world, and suddenly, the idea one more of you is possible, makes it feel like just you isn't enough.

"It's negative"

For the second time in the day, Joel is rendered speechless. His gaze is trained on the floor, lost in thought. Besides his lack of an answer, whatever he's thinking makes you nervous.

"Joel, are you okay?" you call out.

He swallows the lump on his throat, pose awkward before he moves next to your bed.

"M' fine, baby. C'mere" he sits over it again, motioning with his hand the empty spot next to him. Joel's embrace is warm, like it shields you from the cold harsh truth.

"Are you upset?" you ask over the comfortable silence, the underlying tension stretching like a rubber band.

"No" his answer comes quick, "but I won't lie to ya', doll. Thought for a sec and ol' man like me could give a pretty girl like yourself a baby as beautiful as their mamma"

A treacherous pink dusts your cheeks. Had you lost all your common sense? Seconds ago, your life hung by a fragile thread, and now all your body can think is to go for the same risk again. Fuck it.

"Did you? I thought you were too busy freaking out"

Joel lets out a nervous laugh. "M' a busy man, doll. Learned how to do two things at once"

A fire settles in your stomach when his touch lingers over your soft flat belly, longing.

"Hmm, I see" your fingers move from his hold to his collarbone, as they play with the buttons he hasn't wore.

"Y/n" he warns. You stop for a moment, not because you're unsure, but because when you look up, his eyes don't shine with that glint of danger and hunger that gives you the thrills. Instead, they look at you with a fondness he doesn't seem to even realize―the one that gives you the hope of it all.

"I want this" you speak up, voice confident.

"I don't think that's a good idea, doll. What'ya need is-"

"You" your face gets close to his, cutting his words and breath. Joel's adam's apple bobs, your throbbing pussy going through a Pavlovian response, such action an indicator he's surrendered to you, mouth watering at just the thought. "You said you could do two things at the same time, right? The comfort me in the only way you know"

There's hesitation on his eyes, and while you think it's because he's still hung up on the idea this isn't what you need, Joel's mind is stuck in the fact you think he can only warm your bed but not your heart. It's stupid, indeed. It can't affect him that much. Ashamed, he cuts the space hanging between your lips and traps them in a heated kiss.

"Hmh, Joel" your voice barely audible as Joel's fingers grip on your hair, his sleazy tongue sliding it's way into your mouth until you can feel it in your teeth. "Please..."

He chuckles at your neediness. "Please, what?"

"Please" you whimper, feeling your back heat with droplets of sweat under Joel's shirt, the sticky feeling akin to that starting to pool in between your thighs. "Please, make me feel good"

Joel smiles adoringly, moving your body until your legs are up his shoulders. Sure, his knees covered by his dirty worn-out jeans are ruining your fresh laundry, and his joints may crack here and there, but you don't pay mind to this little things: all you care is how he's kissing your bare thighs, his salt and pepper stubble tickling skin that feels more sensitive than ever; burning almost.

"Gon' touch 'tis pretty pussy 'til you forget y'r name, doll" he breathes out. "Will ya' let me?"

You nod eagerly as he helps you get out of your panties, throwing them somewhere around the room. You smack his arm playfully at his rough manners, but then he's pressing his lips with wet ticklish kisses on your legs and laughter bubbles at the tingles it's causing.

"S-stop, Joel!" you beg, legs shaking. Your giggles are contagious, and soon the foreign feeling lifts the corners of his scowl into a smile, a concept becoming more familiar with time.

"I ain't stopping" his fingers then graze your clit, tauntingly. You whine, as Joel doesn't let up on your clit, his calloused digits coated in your arousal. "'Tis what you asked for, baby. So 'm gonna make you feel good. So good until you can't speak nothin' that ain't my name"

The threat feels like a delicious promise, so you tell him you'll behave.

"I wanna try somethin', doll. Wait" you whine at the loss of his fingers inside of you, and then he's moving your body until he's against the wall and you're on the border of the bed. With your eyes, you follow his line of view. "So needy, ain't ya'? Cockhungry slut. Jus' scared the shit out of me and now you want me inside?" he tsks. "Sick fella"

"Joel..." you breath out, desire pooling into your orbs.

"Wanna see you, doll" you see your reflection in the mirror as Joel lowers his head to whisper on your ear, eliciting goosebumps on your skin. "Want you to see yourself, too. How you'll be beggin' for me"

His middle and ring finger dip between your folds as he continues the minstrations, fingers pumping in and out as they graze your moist cunt. They start to go in circles, and even if it's not exactly next to your bed, you can see the mirror begin to fog, whines condensed in the heavy air.

His shirt clings uncomfortably to your body, but you don't care. In a way, he feels even closer to you, as if he was an extension of yourself.

Joel's body radiates heat on it's own, making the room's temperature skyrocket.

You lean your head back onto the mattress, moaning.

"Need ya' to use that pretty mouth of y'rs, doll. Say it" his fingers linger on the dip of your hips, waiting for an answer with a smirk and daring manner. "Say what ya' want; that's if you can"

It takes you a while to speak up, the slippery sound of Joel's coated fingers the only sound to be heard on your dorm.

"I... I need" you whine through labored pants, "I need you, Joel"

I need you, Joel. It's in the heat of the moment, really, yet on that very instant, he makes a silent vow that hangs unspoken in the air.

"Good girl" he bites your earlobe, making a chill run down your spine.

His fingers fuck into you just how you like it: swirling to explore your inner tight walls.

"Fuck. Love how your pussy takes me, doll. 'S mine, isn't it? Say it, say who this pussy belongs to. Who's the only man allowed to have it"

You close your eyes, but the answer comes clear. "You, Joel. Just you"

You whine, feeling him go harder in a new-found confidence. Your nails dig on his biceps, but he doesn't flich, still busy burying his fingers inside your clit as his mouth continues spilling filthy shit you barely can comprehend, mind starting to go numb.

Normally, Joel would make you cum on his fingers, always making sure to lick it after, claiming it was bad manners to leave to waste. But today, the clock ticking in your wall, he knows he must hurry.

"Eager, eh?" you taunt back, seeing how quickly he's pulling down his underwear, guiding the tip of his cock to your entrance.

Your dripping cunt welcomes his cock, tip teasing your entrance.

"Don't" he seethes.

"Don't?" you laugh. "Don't what, laugh?"

His fingers grab your jaw tightly, forcing you to look behind you.

"Don't stop lookin', doll"

Joel slips the tip of his cock into you, his hands grabbing your waist to steady you. He looks at you through the mirror, seeing your dazed eyes, waiting as you bite your lip.

"That's it, good girl" he praises, purring against your ear. You see his face go down and lick the side of your neck before sinking his teeth in it. "Gonna reward you for'at"

Your mouth falls agape when he fully pushes his cock inside of you, burying himself to the limit in the first thrust. You moan, stretch wet pussy trying to adjust to his girth. He groans, his hips moving back and forth with yours, to meet his thrusts.

"R-right there" you whimper, feeling eyes starting to water. It had been a long day, and with his cock buried deep inside you, you can't think of anything else: just him―like this, for the rest of your life; you don't need more. "Fuck, don't stop"

His thumb rubs across your cheekbone, capturing a tear that had slipped past your foggy mind in a brittle moment of vulnerability, brown eyes flickering with something else. It could be.

We could be.

"Fuck, you cryin' over this cock, doll? What'a fuckin' slut" he laughs incredulously, but there's a hidden fondness to it. "S' that how good 'm makin' you feel?"

You can only moan, his dick harder now, his infatuation with your fucked-out state evident in the way his movements become more hectic.

"Can't even speak? What'a dirty minx inside 'tis sexy little body"

"Mhm" you blabber, tears running hot down your cheeks, landing on the mattress in fat droplets, noticeable through the reflection even. Joel stares back at your puffy eyes, devotion pouring at your glossy gaze, coated in a faint red tint, more pronounced from your earlier cries. Fuck. Never did he think your lambent eyes and sniffle sounds could turn him on this much. Something about him being the cause of it has his head spinning.

"New rule" he growls, "you keep those pretty red eyes lookin' at me when you cum"

You whimper at his words, the powerful aura they carry pushing your orgasm closer to the edge. You feel your tight folds clenching around his cock, hands holding to his back while your nails dig in it. You feel yourself approaching your release, multiple tears escaping down your cheekbone. In an obscene gesture, it isn't his thumb but his tongue what removes the wet stream from your body, feeling the salty drops on his tastebuds.

You were already so worked up, it was a matter of seconds before you could cum at any moment. Your walls clench around his length, and before you can process, Joel pulls your body up, caging your tits until they're pressed against his soft chest. You face the white paint of your wall, and Joel can see your back in the mirror as he's still buried inside of you. You gasp at the change in position, all of the sudden, a painfull delicious sensation flooding your senses.

"You're gonna cum, aren't ya', doll?" Joel's asking, hot breath nestled in your neck.

"Hmh" you barely manage to blurt as he fucks into you harder, your arms clutching onto him. You were being so loud now that you were sure you'd get at least one noise complain, hoping it stays there; if they found out not only had you been fucking, but with a fourty year old man who happpened to be the father of your bestfriend, you'd probably get expelled. "So close..."

"You know?" he whispers, voice fragile over the sound of your pants and worked up breaths. "I was scared, ealier. M' sorry you had to see that" your body trembles, making you close your eyes. "But I need ya' to know, for'a moment, I did think about having a kid with you"

Your forehead drips with sweat, mixing with the sodium of your tears.

"Maybe in 'nother life, huh?"

Your heart feels like it's about to burst when he sloppily kisses you, as to prevent any words come out of your mouth―humilliating or full of regret, avoiding the heart ache of a rejection. Joel, for a moment, lets his heart wander off to territories he shouldn't, thinking of things he should leave to be. Joel digs his hole deeper, but he doesn't care: he just wants to be the best grave in your cementery.

"Maybe" you answer, but it sounds like a possibility, the promise of a foolish mind betraying the guarded hidden hope.

"Fuck, Joel" you bury your face against his soft pecs, your orgasm crashing over you. Your whine comes our rather loud, trying to drown the sound against his body. He doesn't stop holding you on his arms, firm; you'd probably fallen if he didn't.

"Wait for me, doll. 'M close"

"Please" you plead, kissing his jaw. "Need you. Want to feel you, Joel"

Not daddy, but his name. I want you. I need you. Want to feel you; for you to fill me. He groans, rhythm sloppy as he crashes his lips into yours. he should stop, especially after today's events, but God, his traitorous head is filled with images of you, belly round with his child, one carved to be the spitting image of you.

Do it.

You moan inside his mouth when you feel him finish inside of you, thick, your fingers running through his dark greying hair damp with sweat.

"M' right here" he says his words from earlier, and you feel yourself hugging him to keep his body next to yours even as he pulls out.

"I know" you hum, arms around his neck. "Thank you for coming"

"What of both?"

You let out a laugh.

"Jesus, Joel" but your tone is devoid of malice, adquiring that layer to it, just like his own. There's a shift in the air, and if you felt it before, now you know there's no point of return. "You sure are something else"

dts: @ann-gell; angél de mi corazón, tkm mucho, gracias por llegar a mi vida, ah.

[s-awturn]

Other Plans || F1 Grid

cw: babies being cute, still a little anguish, overcoming, deliverance (hehehehe) and I don't know what else to say. Spanish, French, and some poorly translated Dutch, blame Google.

starring: LH44, CS55, CL16, LN4, OP81, MV1,

a/n: I rarely get requests for part 2, so don't judge me if I'm excited here. I loved writing the first part and I hope to make the second part just as good.

f i r s t p a r t

LEWIS HAMILTON.

You never regretted leaving.

As you might have guessed, Lewis never called or cared and even though you knew he wouldn't call, it didn't hurt any less. You had hopes that he would care, that he would come around, but he never took a step towards you and you wouldn't make the first move. You and the baby — a healthy, restless girl —didn’t need him.

The first few months were not easy, by God, dealing with all the changes of pregnancy, the demands of work, as well as cleaning and organizing your home was the hardest thing in the world.

But it was all worth it when you held your little girl in your arms for the first time. Bree was beautiful and had powerful lungs, because she cried so loudly when you laughed with happiness at having her. Not even the fact that she had the same eyes as Lewis shook his happiness. She was yours, and nothing in the world would change that.

You, your mother and Bree were walking down one of the streets of London looking for Christmas decorations, Bree was on your lap, looking at everything curiously, you hadn't taken her to London yet, both because you wanted her to get used to the climate and the quiet life in Naples and because of fear, you still didn't feel ready to face Lewis, because you knew he was always in England, mainly in the capital.

“Mamma, look!” she pointed to the store across the street, with the Christmas decorations you were looking for. You gave a proud smile and kissed her cheek.

“Good job, little bee, let’s go get our colorful balls from Santa Claus” you crossed the street and due to carelessness, you ended up tripping over someone. “Oops, sorry, I didn’t y-...” you started to say, however your voice trailed off as you recognized fucking Lewis Hamilton.

“Y/N?” His eyes, identical to Bree’s, widened as he recognized you and the baby in your arms. You straightened up, hugging Bree against you.

“Lewis, how are you?” you said cordially, but there was no sympathy in your voice.

“Mhmm, Well, I'm fine... And you?”

“Wonderfully,” you remained impassive. “Well, Merry Christmas, Lewis,” you said, walking past him until your name was called by the pilot.

“I thought you would give me news...” he hesitated for a few seconds “news about her” Lewis’ eyes fell on Bree, who was looking at him with the same curiosity.

“And why should I, Lewis? You said you didn’t want to have a baby, that it would hinder your career.” You hit a nerve with Lewis, because since your departure, he couldn't help but wonder if he had done the right thing. “I had no obligation and have no obligation to give you news about my daughter.”

He came closer and you kept Bree away from him, you accepted and healed from the pain Lewis caused you, but you wouldn't allow him to do the same to your sweet little girl. Bree didn't deserve to be hurt by Lewis's selfishness.

“She’s mine too, Y/N, you can’t stop me from seeing her” he said and you finally lost your patience, so you asked your mother to take Bree to the store, you would meet them in a few minutes.

“Don’t use that horrible argument with me, Lewis Hamilton!” you pointed your finger in his face. “You made it clear that you didn’t want her! You never called to find out about her, not for me or my mother, so don’t come with ‘she’s mine too’ because I won’t fall for that! You didn't even think twice before saying you didn't want her! And now you want to demand your rights? What the fuck rights do you think you have?”

He took a step back, Lewis didn't expect you to have such an intense outburst of anger.

“Y/N, I-I wanted to turn things around, go after you,” he bit his lip, thinking about how to continue, “but I was embarrassed... But now I'm willing-...”

“But I’m not willing, Bree doesn’t need you, I don’t.” you said emphatically “My daughter doesn’t need you, your regret or anything that comes from you!”

He tried to articulate some sentence, but no sound came out of his mouth.

“Oh, that is if you have any shame, of course. But don’t worry, when Bree grows up, I’ll tell her about you and she’ll decide whether she wants you in her life or not.” You assured “Until then, continue being the ghost you have been for these two years”

And without giving him a chance to respond, you follow your mother and Bree into the store, trying to ignore the panic that was ravaging your entire body, you felt like you were about to faint. But hearing Bree's spontaneous, sweet laugh was like feeling a cool breeze on a hot day; you didn't know how, but you were sure that Lewis would stay away.

And you didn't lie, Bree didn't need him, and neither did you. Your job was more than enough to maintain and take care of all of Bree's needs, you didn't lie when you said he wasn't needed, in nothing.

Finally you could sleep peacefully knowing that Lewis was what he wanted to be in your lives, a shadow.

On the sidewalk, Lewis saw you enter the store and through the window, he could see you and Bree together, it was clear how much the little girl was loved and well cared for. Lewis tried to imagine what the two years he had lost of his life, of the life of the daughter whose name he didn't even know, had been like. He thought of all the little moments he had missed.

There were few things Lewis truly regretted in his life, and letting you go and not being able to see Bree grow up was, without a doubt, the biggest regret he carried.

CARLOS SAINZ.

Sometimes you wondered how you had the courage to consider the idea of giving your twins up for adoption. You weren't lying when you said that the twins were the best part of your life. At five years old, the identical twins made your days in the French capital — the city you moved to after breaking up with Carlos — much happier and more joyful.

You didn't even care if the two of them were little carbon copies of the Carlos; Santiago, the older twin, seemed to have inherited much of Carlos' personality, he was a little reserved and even shy and loved board games, preferred books to any electronic game and loved football, while Martín had a lot of you in him, expansive and restless, your youngest son loves logic games like Rubik's cube and puzzles and was completely addicted to any kind of racing.

And they were little fanatical Atlético de Madrid fans, which you found sweet irony.

And it was this love for the Spanish club that convinced you to take them to Spain, so that the two could watch the Madrid Derby at the Cívitas Metropolitano, Atlético's official stadium in the city of Madrid. Thanks to your work as a digital influencer, you could give your twins the experience of watching the game directly from the stadium's box.

“C'est le meilleur cadeau d'anniversaire au monde! Merci maman!” (This is the best birthday present in the world! Thanks mommy!) Martín said, hugging you before running to the fence and seeing the field, where the players were warming up.

“Tu es la meilleure au monde, maman” (You are the best in the world, mommy) Santiago said before joining his brother at the railing. You sat down next to Andie.

“I didn’t think you were serious when you said you were going to bring them to Madrid just to watch the game,” her best friend said, also keeping her eyes on the twins.

“It’s their birthday and I had to come to Madrid anyway for work, so I thought I could combine business with pleasure... And I don’t plan on stopping my boys from having good experiences because of Carlos.”

In five years, you never received a text or call from Carlos to see how the twins were doing, or to see how you were handling things. Since their birth, it had been you, the twins, and Andie —she moved to Paris as well. You weren't lying, the first few months were horrible, you truly believed that you wouldn't be a good mother or be able to take care of two babies at the same time.

But Andie was an angel to you and your boys, helping you through the best and worst times. So much so that before long, Carlos was just an old and unwanted memory in your life.

When the game went into halftime, you and Andie took the boys to the snack bar in the box to get something to eat. You hadn't noticed that you were being watched since you entered the diner, Carlos had seen you, Andie and the boys entering. The pilot didn't expect to find you there, especially with two boys who looked like they were five years old.

Without thinking twice, he approached, keeping his eyes on the boys who wore Atlético shirts and their names on the back.

Santiago and Martín.

“Y/N?” he said fearfully, catching her attention. Carlos saw surprise flash in her eyes, but as quickly as it appeared, it was replaced by icy indifference. "How long"

“That’s right, it’s been a long time.” You placed your hands on the boys’ shoulders, aware that they were both shocked.

“C'est Carlos Sainz” Martín spoke softly to Santiago with wide eyes, not that Carlos was his favorite pilot, but the boy didn't expect you to know the pilot.

“These are Martín and Santiago, my sons.” You said, introducing the boys, watching the astonishment appear on Sainz’s face.

“What’s up guys? Enjoying the game?” he said, after a few seconds of shock. You knew what was going on in his head, Carlos was doing the math.

“We don’t talk to Real Madrid fans,” Santiago said with indifference and pulled Martín away from Carlos. You were so surprised that you laughed out loud, watching Carlos’ discomfort grow even more.

“I’m going after the brats and… And I think you guys need to talk,” Andie said, following the twins back to the to their seats.

You turned completely to Carlos, for a long time you missed him, especially when you wanted him to see the boys' first steps or when they spoke for the first time. You wanted him to see how special and good your children were, but he never cared.

It took a while, but eventually it stopped hurting.

Since then, all you felt was pity, because Martín and Santiago were absurdly adorable, loving and incredible children, anyone who could have them in their lives was lucky as hell.

“I didn't think I would go through with the pregnancy" he said and you sighed.

“And I wasn’t going to, but everything changed when I held them in my arms for the first time... I knew I could never leave them” you said and a smile appeared on your face.

“My parents would love to meet you... I would like to-” He starts to say but you interrupt him, already tired of that conversation.

“You wouldn’t like anything, Carlos, you have nothing to offer my boys but abandonment and cowardice,” you replied harshly.

He swallowed hard, Carlos looked embarrassed and regretful, but you didn't care, just like he didn't care about leaving you alone in that hospital.

“Y/N please understand, I wasn’t ready and-”

“I wasn’t either, Carlos,” you interrupted him, having no patience for his excuses. “I was simply thrown alone, in the middle of the hurricane, so if that’s your excuse, improve it.”

Your gaze towards him was hard, there really was nothing that could justify abandoning him.

“If it weren’t for Andie, I don’t even know where I would be right now! Maybe they’d both be in an orphanage or something, living on the streets.” Your voice was forceful, punishing, and accurate. “I almost, almost acted like a coward with them too, but I remembered that they had already lost their father, they couldn't be without their mother too.”

Carlos hunched over slightly, like you had just hit him in the face and damn, he wished you had.

“I will tell them about you, everything they want to know and if they want to look for you, I will not stop them, but until then, do not think that your presence near them will be welcome”

And you went back to where Andie and the boys were, you were surprised to notice that Martín hadn't taken his eyes off you for a moment. Your protective little boy...

You swallowed a painful sigh and stopped the tears from welling up in your eyes.

“Est-ce qu'il t'a fait du mal, maman?” (Did he hurt you, mommy?) He asked as soon as you sat down, you gave a calm smile and denied.

“It’s okay, honey, don’t worry.” you assured, sliding your fingers through his hair, Martín kept his eyes on you. “Are you enjoying the game?”

“Damn!” he said excitedly and you narrowed your eyes.

“What language is that, young man?” you asked, and he smiled as if he had been caught red-handed.

“It was an accident, mommy... Don't be mad, please,” he asked, making the same lost puppy face that Carlos had. My God, you thought it was impossible for them to look so much alike, but the twins were in fact carbon copies of Carlos.

“Go watch the game, I’m watching you” he nodded and ran to Santiago’s side, you sighed and saw Andie sit next to you. “I thought it would be worse”

“Me too... But you did well, to be honest, I thought you were going to throw the chair at him” Andie confessed and you laughed.

“Almost... I'll tell them the truth when we get back to Paris... And I'll let them decide whether they want to approach him or not.” you said, trying to keep your nervousness from setting in ahead of schedule. You would deal with the consequences when they came, that moment was just about the boys, would not spoil it with anxious thoughts and nervousness.

On the other side of the box, Carlos couldn't pay attention to the game, his mind was divided between the game and you and the twins. Carlos thought about how selfish he had been, he thought about how he would like to go back in time and change everything, to be able to live every little moment with you and the boys.

Carlos would like to be less stupid, but there was no way anymore.

CHARLES LECLERC.

After almost seven years, you were back in France, your parents were asking — or demanding, depending on your point of view — that you and Vivienne spend Mother's Day in the south of France. It was the first time since Vivienne was born that you had returned to Europe and although you loved the feeling of being home again, you couldn't help but be apprehensive, after all you didn't know if you were prepared for the possibility of meeting Charles. But you didn't let those thoughts ruin Vivienne's experience, the girl looked like she was going to explode at any moment with so much happiness.

The two of you took the train from Paris to Bordeaux, and Vivienne couldn't tear herself away from the window, enchanted by the romantic landscape of the French countryside, she commented on every little thing, unable to contain the excitement that made her shine.

“Let’s go to the dining car, amour, You need to eat.” You called her, trying to attract the girl’s attention, who seemed much more interested in the castle that disappeared through the train window.

“Will there be croissants, maman?” Vivienne finally turned away from the window.

“Of course, amour. Let’s go before they eat it all, shall we?” you led her out into the hallway, Vivienne chattered on and on, listing the things she had liked the most so far, that's why she still made a point of greeting the other passengers.

“It’s more beautiful here than Montreal, Mom...”

“Would you like to live here?”

She stopped in the hallway for a few seconds before turning to you, the indecision was clear on her little face “I don’t think so, I would miss home... And my friends, but we can come on vacation?”

“We can come to France whenever possible, amour.” you assured her.

The dining car was half full, but that wasn't what caught his attention, but rather coming across such familiar crystal-clear eyes. You knew the chances of meeting Charles in France were 50-50, but you didn't expect it to happen so quickly; suddenly you remembered why you spent so long away from your homeland. You saw Charles' smile disappear and his gaze fall on the girl in front of him, who, although she didn't look exactly like him, carried many of Leclerc's features in her own features.

“Let's sit at the table by the window, okay maman?” Vivienne asked, skipping over to the empty table, she didn’t even look to the side as she passed Charles.

"Of course, papillon, (butterfly) we can sit wherever you want.” You said, thankful that your voice came out steady, without showing the mess that was inside you.

You made Vivienne sit with her back to Charles, listening to the girl talk excitedly about the fields full of vineyards and the lavender plantations. Vivienne knew from the age of five because it was just you and her, you didn't want to wait too long to tell her the truth behind why just you were the one who went to the Father's Day presentations at her school. You remembered the pain tearing through your chest as you comforted your little girl who went to sleep crying for weeks on end, or all the times she asked why her father didn't like her. You wouldn't let anything bring that pain to Vivienne again, even if you had to throw Charles Leclerc out the train window.

“You’re not the waiter.” Vivienne’s inquisitive voice snapped you out of your reverie and you looked up to find Charles standing next to your table. Panic spread through you like wildfire. Vivienne knew that the man standing next to the table was her father, you didn't do much to hide it. “If you’re not the waiter, why did you come?”

“You have your mother’s sharp tongue,” he said, and you noticed the shadow of a smile on his face. “I’m Charles—”

“Leclerc, I know, I watch TV” she said, crossing her fingers on the table, you blinked a little dazed and took control of the situation, Vivienne didn't need to face a situation like that, not with you around to protect her, as you had been doing since her birth.

“What do you want, Charles?” you questioned seriously, the seven years away from him made you create a strong shield against the pilot's charm. He swallowed the lump in his throat and looked at you, there was no anger or contempt in his gaze, it had taken you the same seven years to understand that it had all been a huge failure in communication, however, that did not allow this to cause any more harm to Vivienne.

“I...” he stuttered, his gaze going from you to Vivienne without stopping “I came to greet you and...” he left the sentence hanging in the air, waiting for you or your daughter to reveal her name.

“You don’t need to know my name,” Vivienne said and your eyes widened.

You saw Charles' mouth open in pure astonishment, if you weren't expecting an answer like that, imagine him.

“What do you want, Charles? I don’t remember inviting you to join us,” you teased, enjoying his discomfort. You could forgive what had happened years ago, after all it wasn't anyone's fault he didn't want kids, but you fucking couldn't forget how it destroyed Vivienne for weeks. “Your girlfriend is waiting for you, and you are disturbing us.”

“Y/N I wanted to say that I'm sorry that all of this happened and...” his voice becomes a weak and distant thread, you just shake your head and raise your hand.

“There is nothing to be forgiven, Charles. That's in the past, there's no reason to bring it up again," you said sincerely, letting out a tired sigh. You wanted it to end soon, you wanted to get to Bordeaux soon. “Forget about it, leave everything in the past and go back to your girlfriend, we've been fine the last seven years without you, the next seven will be even easier, don't waste time worrying about us, we don't need you.”

He hadn't meant to be cruel or rude, but he wouldn't allow a sliver of it to reach Vivienne. Charles just nodded and walked away, you looked at Vivienne, who had tears in her eyes.

“Ma princesse,” you grabbed her hand, watching the little girl swallow her tears and give a weak smile.

“It’s okay, mom, I have you, it’s okay,” she said and went back to looking at the landscape through the window. You noticed that Charles had left. “I don’t need a father who didn’t want me”

You left the chair you were in and went to hug Vivienne, letting the girl feel how much she was loved, how much she didn't need Charles “I'm so proud of you, darling, so proud”

Outside, Charles was hyperventilating, he hadn't expected it to end like this, nor had he expected it to feel like a punch to his stomach. Suddenly, he questioned whether the choices he had made over the past seven years were good. But it didn't matter anymore, he had lost you and any chance of having... Having a family he never wanted.

It was already too late.

LANDO NORRIS.

Jordan looked at the cupcake with bright eyes, you wanted to cry when you saw the smile on your little boy's face. It was late afternoon and you wanted Jordan to be able to celebrate his first birthday on the beach, creating sand castles and playing with water.

“Happy birthday, my baby, I wish you to be blessed with happiness and love throughout your life.” you whispered, helping him blow out the candle. Jordan chuckled, grabbing the icing, smearing the blue sweetness all over his face. You let Jordan play in the sand and thought about everything that led them to that little beach in Spain.

After breaking up with Lando and receiving a court order that he didn't want to be related to you or the baby, you didn't know what to do with your life, I had a college degree, good internship experiences, but no one would hire a pregnant woman. With limited options and no support network, you've relied on the most unstable form of work: the internet. Your life wasn't the most glamorous or adventurous in the world, but people enjoyed watching you. You didn't care about fame or being known in places, you just wanted to make sure you could take care of the baby, make sure he always had a roof over his head and food on the table. No matter what shit you would do to make sure Jordan lacked for nothing.

Anything but crawling after Lando, begging for help or whatever the hell he could give.

You let Jordan play until he got tired, and only when the boy was almost asleep in the sand, you picked him up and decided to go back to the hotel. You balanced Jordan on your lap as you searched for your room key when you heard your name being called. You didn't expect to find Lando Norris in the lobby of the hotel you were staying at.

Not even by a miracle.

“What do you want here, Norris?” you asked, but you didn’t give him time to answer, you just continued on your way to the elevator. You heard him follow you and kept Jordan out of his sight.

“I want to talk to you,” he said tentatively. You stood in the opposite corner of the elevator, as far away from Lando as possible. “Is it his birthday?”

“And why does that matter to you, Norris? You’re nothing to him,” you said dryly, giving him a hard look.

He didn't even know what to answer, you couldn't understand what he was doing there, not after a year and seven months, not after that damn letter. What did he want there? Guarantee you wouldn't ask him for money? Ridiculous.

“If you want to know if I need your money, don’t worry, we don’t need anything from you”

Lando exhaled, you wouldn't give him a step, leaving him frustrated.

“I didn’t come for this... I know you’re... You’re dealing with everything well, I wanted...”

“What do you want, Norris? To see if I'm trying to scam someone to support my son? Being a gold digger?”

“Y/N I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that, been...”

“What do you regret? Saying that I got pregnant so you could support me? That I wanted to pull the pregnancy scam on you? Or have you come to give me another court notice to deny your parentage with Jordan? If that's the case, don't worry, if it's up to me, your name will never be on Jordan's birth certificate.”

If shame had a portrait, it would be Lando's face.

“Please understand my side...”

“Your side, Norris? I was pregnant and you sent me away!!” you growled, trying not to wake Jordan in your arms. “I didn’t want money, I wanted support! I wanted you!”

You scoffed at the tears in his eyes, none of them made up for the times you cried alone, scared of the uncertain future you could have. If he thought you would be moved by his crying, he couldn't be more wrong. The elevator doors opened and you walked out, not caring about him following you.

“I’m sorry, I was scared!”

“I was too!” you lost your patience and heard Jordan’s whimpers. “Were you scared? Don’t be a hypocrite, Lando.”

“Let me... Let me apologize, let me take care of you two.”

“You can swallow your apologies, they’re worth nothing to me or Jordan, and as for your care…” you laughed “I won’t tell you what to do with it out of respect for my son.”

And with that, you slammed the door in his face. Hoping that Lando would go back to the same place he had come from.

MAX VERSTAPPEN.

Just as nothing hurt you more than Max's distrust, Annelise's birth healed you in immeasurable ways. The little girl became the little Sun in your world, illuminating corners you thought you would no longer visit after the breakup with Max.

When you left his house in Monaco, you spent a few days on standby, thinking about what to do, you had no one else to support you. You didn't know how, but before you knew it, you were standing on Sophie's doorstep in Belgium, you didn't expect to have the support of your ex-mother-in-law, but Sophie welcomed you with open arms, outraged by Max's attitude.

Sophie welcomed you as if you were her own daughter, helped you choose an apartment in Brussels — even though she wanted you to stay with her for as long as it took, she helped you in the first few months after Annelise was born.

Now, two years later, Annelise was spending so much time at her grandmother's house that Sophie had set up a room for her.

“Sophie, for God’s sake, don’t spoil Anne like that,” you scolded her, seeing the woman click her tongue and shrug, you knew your sermons would do no good, Sophie would continue buying gifts for Annelise.

“Nah, it’s nothing big and you know I’m not stopping any time soon,” she admitted, bouncing the little girl on her lap, Annelise was very entertained by the new teddy bear Sophie had brought. “How was the job interview? Did you get the job?”

You had applied for a job at the health center near your home, the hours were great, the pay was worth it, you just needed to find someone to look after Sophie.

“I was selected, but I need to find a good nanny to take care of Anne...”

“Y/N don’t be silly, you know I will take care of Anne with the greatest pleasure, I love taking care of her.”

“Sophie, I don’t want to give you any trouble...” you started to try to argue.

“Mom! I’m home... Y/N?” you saw Max standing in the middle of the room, staring at you in surprise, then looking at Annelise on Sophie’s lap.

“Max, you didn’t tell me you were coming, come in, I made your favorite cake, go get it from the kitchen, dear” Sophie said, she knew you weren’t ready to talk to Max yet, but the Dutchman had different plans.

You held your arms out to Annelise, who didn't think twice before jumping into your lap, you did your best to avoid Max's gaze.

“We’re going, Sophie... I’ll let you know when we get home,” you said in a whisper and crossed the room towards the exit, but Max grabbed your bicep, stopping you from leaving.

“We need to talk, Y/N... Just five minutes, please,” he said quietly, as soothingly as he could.

“We have nothing to talk about, Max.”

“Please, just five minutes,” he begged, giving Annelise a quick glance in his lap.

“Five minutes, no more.” You said, releasing your arm from his grip. “Sophie, can you take Anne please?”

“Of course, it’s no sacrifice for me, is it, mon bebé?”

Finally you and Max were alone, you were uncomfortable to the point that your skin felt itchy.

“I didn’t expect to see you here… I thought you would stay in Monaco”

“I had nothing to keep me in Monaco, I saw no reason to stay there, and Sophie welcomed me as if I were her daughter,” you said, putting your hands in your coat pockets. “Get to the point, Max, I have to go...”

He licked his lips nervously. “I wanted to talk about our daughter.”

“No, no, calm down, you don’t have a daughter, at least not with me, Annelise is my daughter and mine alone, your participation in her conception was purely accidental.” You said it without any emotion.

“I know I said stupid things that night, Y/N, but I want to make up for every single one of them, with you and with the girl” he said and you scoffed.

“Oh really? And what makes you think you have any right to her?”

“Y/N I’m her father” he said patiently, as he always was with you, until that night at least.

“Unless you request a DNA test, there is nothing to prove your paternity over Annelise,” you determined, taking a step towards him, “and don’t think I’m an idiot, Max, you always knew I was in Brussels with your mother, Sophie told you that the same day I arrived, because I highly doubt she didn't give you the biggest lecture of your life that night.”

He looked away, proving his point “and yet you never cared, you didn’t come to her birthday, or call when she had pneumonia, you didn’t even know her name until today, So please don't lie to me saying that you regret it or that you want to be a part of her life.”

You pressed your fingers to your temples, already feeling the pains of the inevitable migraine.

“Annelise will eventually find out about you, but until then, don't go near her, I won't allow you to be cruel to my daughter the way you were to me.” That was your final sentence before you went to get Annelise with Sophie. You didn't want to have to share oxygen with him any more than necessary. Max belonged to a past you didn't want to revisit.

He stood still in place, watching you leave with the girl, without giving you another look.

“There are stupid people, and then there’s you, Max,” Sophie said, approaching her son. “I find it absurd how you inherited Jos’s worst traits...”

He couldn't help but agree, Max was fucking dumb.

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[jeannyjaykaydeh]

Merry Sinsmas

Alastor x Reader

Just a little thought I'd like to share with you because I’m in the Christmas mood.

I hope you enjoy reading it and if you celebrate Christmas: I wish you a Merry Christmas. And if you don't: I hope you have a great few days anyway. :)

And to all of you: Merry Sinsmas. :D

Warning: I hope you don't mind that this short story briefly mentions that you are from Germany. If you can't identify with this, just see this sentence as a joke to wriggle out of a situation.

—————————————————————————

You're standing in the hotel lobby with a clipboard in your hand, working through a to-do list. You are in the middle of your Christmas preparations. Charlie and Vaggie are busy decorating the big tree in the centre of the lobby next to the stairs, Niffty is cleaning and judging by her crazy laugh, she's in a very Christmassy mood.

Lucifer is tending to the fairy lights, Husk is making punch for everyone and Angel and Cherri Bomb are getting the sound system ready.

As you stare at your clipboard, thinking about what you could do next, you notice out of the corner of your eye a shadow rise from the floor and stand next to you.

You don't even have to lift your eyes to realise that it's Alastor, standing so close to you that his large body is pressed against you.

You hear a snap of fingers, but you skilfully ignore it.

You're too busy dealing with the fact that the radio demon is invading your comfort zone - as he so often does.

It doesn't take long before he clears his throat meaningfully, inviting you to give him your attention.

So you raise your eyes and suppress your annoyed expression as best you can.

You look at him expectantly. What does he want?

He looks down at you with a mischievous smile. Then he takes a quick look at the ceiling before his eyes wander back to you.

You look up and see a sprig of mistletoe hanging directly above you, obviously conjured up by him.

You sigh slightly.

So he wants to be kissed.

Alastor is really trying everything he can to get to you. You realise that he's been trying to make advances to you for months and win your heart with small - and also very large - gestures.

What you keep to yourself the whole time: He won your heart a long time ago. But you don't want to admit it.

Yes, you fancy Alastor - oh, you're so in love with him!

But your fear of commitment and the fact that he's one of the most dangerous demons here in hell stop you from getting involved with him.

Much to the displeasure of your friends, because the tension between Alastor and you has left its mark on them too and now they really want to see you two as a couple.

"Hahaaaa, there's a little green branch hanging right above us. What funny coincidences there are, aren't there, my dear?" he says euphorically in his radio filter voice.

"Real coincidences, yes," you reply sarcastically and leave it at that. At least that's what you try to do, but there's no way Alastor will let you get away with it.

He steps closer to you - it's hard to believe that's still possible - leans forward slightly and says: "You know I'm a man of tradition. In my day, we followed every custom without even batting an eyelid. It would be a shame for me and my inner well-being if you didn't appreciate my traditions, sweetheart."

You give him a wry, cheeky grin. Then you turn away from him and say: "Well, it's just a shame that I'm from Germany and this mistletoe tradition isn't practised there."

You move away from him and leave him standing there in his indignant static noise.

"OH NO, DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!" Angel suddenly shouts across the lobby. He jumps up from his chair and stomps angrily towards you, grabs you by the shoulders, spins you around and pushes you back on your heels under the mistletoe, where he sets you down right in front of the radio demon.

He grumbles: "We're not in fucking Germany here, we're in hell! And here ya don't just kiss under the mistletoe, here ya even fuck when ye're standin' under it! So do yerself and us a favour and respect our traditions! Ya kiss that creepy man now, understand?"

[admirationandromantics]

Chocolates

Fucking hell, the way I had to take several breaks from this. Most intense writing I think I've done. Anyway, this was also a request (plus a little creative freedom from me), so hope you like it. Also think this is kinda intense, so I'll have warnings. Everyone should already know my blog is 18++ also.

Warnings: drugging (kinda), fingering, penetration, p in v, unprotected, pleading, teasing, edging, heavy buildup, overstimulation (fr), blowjob.

I think that's it, at least I hope. Don't stop sending requests! I promise, I see them, but it takes some time to write these things <3

Word count: 3,6k (Unedited)

I put the warm drinks on the table, taking the controller and turning on the tv. Josh and I were going to have a movie night, the last get-together before christmas. Sadly, everyone else left early to go home, and the only ones still on campus were us. I didn’t mind though, usually enjoying his company the most. Except for when he jumps me or pranks me, that little shit. The little love I have for him immediately fades, and I feel nothing but contempt for at least five minutes. His warm behaviour usually fixes my temper. 

“What do you want to watch?” I shout to the kitchen, scrolling though several. 

“A Christmas one!” 

I move to the Christmas category, unsure about what to pick. I could put on a sappy romance, a scary one or something like that. I decide to take the romantic one. He’ll hate it, considering his specific taste in movies. I turn it on, pausing while waiting for him to join me on the couch. 

“And here we are” he exclaims, walking over and putting a bowl of candy in front of us. It’s filled with a variety, chocolate, gummies, and sour jellies. I am quick to grab one on the top, putting it in my mouth. The sourness gets to me, and I have to fight a grimace from appearing. 

“What are we watching?” he sits down beside me, arm going over the back of the couch. 

“Something great” I smile, unpausing it and letting it roll. The movie name appears, and he sighs. 

“Really? This crap?” 

“Shut up Washington, you could’ve picked it you were here”

“I was in the other room!” 

“Shhh, pay attention” I put my finger in front of his lips, eyes still plastered on the screen. This is a great movie after all. A sudden sharpness is felt on my hand, and I jolt at the sensation. To my left, Josh bit my finger, his tongue gracing over it slightly. I pull it away, drying it on his sweater. 

“You’re disgusting” He only laughs, that playful smile on his lips. 

“Not as disgusting as this movie’s gonna be” I roll my eyes at his remark. 

“Have you seen it before?” 

“No” 

My mouth opens wide in surprise. How dare he judge before even having seen it. I shake my head, looking back on the screen and urging him to do the same. I take the bowl of candy, placing it on his lap for easy access, without having the responsibility of keeping it steady. 

During the film, I occasionally look over at him, and he’s always paying attention to it. He likes it, I know. I can’t help the smile that creeps on my face. I move closer, head resting on his chest as we continue watching. 

“Chocolate?” he asks, one arm going around my body. I open my mouth in response, and he takes one out of the bowl, putting it in my mouth. This is not unusual for us, normally being close and touchy. I guess that’s the type of person he is. Maybe it grounds him, or makes him feel secure. I suck and bite, swallowing the piece of candy not long after. It tastes weird, and I take a normal gummy to get rid of the flavour. 

As we keep going, he often feeds me small pieces of chocolate, and I let him. I know he brought it, and it was some expensive shit he bought a while ago. I don’t want to be ungrateful, so I keep swallowing them. 

Twenty minutes go by, and I feel my body heating up, chest heaving a bit. I look around, wondering what happened to the temperature. 

“You good?” he asks, looking over at me. 

“Um, yeah. Is it hot in here?” 

“No, we opened the windows before the movie” 

I nod in response, trying to ignore the warm feelings creeping through my body. Another ten minutes go by, and I feel crazy. I refuse to believe that a small room with an open window can be this warm in the middle of winter. Do I have a fever? Am I sick? 

I suddenly feel very aware of his hand on my arm. Thumb rubbing regularly up and down. A shiver runs through me, thinking about the other things his finger might do. This is not an unusual thought, but I’ve never gotten so worked up so quickly from it. My heat aches for stimulation, and I press my legs together instinctively. Don’t start rubbing, don’t start rubbing. You’re literally laying on top of him for goodness sake, I keep chanting to myself. My breath quickens, and I try to stabilise it, now wanting him to see me like this. Why am I getting so incredibly worked up? 

His hand suddenly grabs my arm hard, letting go as quickly as he squeezed. I let out an uncontrollable gasp, my hand racing to my mouth to stop any other sounds from coming out. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Y-yeah, I’m fine” 

“You got a sore spot here or something? So sorry” he apologies, arm going further down, stopping on my waist. Shit, I should've kept my mouth shut. Every part of me feels like a sore spot, each caress and small movement making me leak. God, there was definitely going to be water damage on the sofa if he kept touching me. 

The worst part is that he isn’t even touching me inappropriately, hand just resting on the side of my waist. His fingers trace the hem of my shirt, sliding a little under it, touching my bare skin. He’s caressing me, skin to skin. God how I want him to continue. 

This is not normal. Feeling these feelings so intensely as I am right now. How did it come to this? Have I been touch-deprived, sex-starved? I pleasure myself regularly, so I don’t know why this sudden wave has come over me. I can only think of one thing to do. 

“I-I have to go to the bathroom” I whisper, feeling cripplingly erotic and needy. It feels like a thirst I’m unable to clench, like I’m about to come at any given moment. I try to stand up, feeling my legs almost give out. This was not gonna be easy. I walk, but am stopped by a hand holding mine. 

“The movie is almost over, can’t you wait a bit?” he smiles. It’s kind of guilty, but I don’t react to it. Instead wondering how his lips feel on my-

“Okay, sure” 

I sit back down, now beside him and not on top. Maybe this’ll help. Before I’m able to calm down, his hand moves under my thigh, dragging my legs over him, causing my back to hit the couch. Fuck. I’ve never been so turned on in my life, imagining him slamming me down, slowly moving from my legs and up. 

His hand graces up and down my thigh in a rhythmic motion, each slide giving me goosebumps and getting me wetter. I kill a couple of whimpers trying to escape my mouth, biting my lips to stop a loud gasp. 

I haven’t paid attention to the movie, my eyes are either on him, imagining filthy things, or closed, trying to regulate my breathing and sounds. He keeps eating from the bowl, but never the chocolate, only the other candies. He loves chocolate, why isn’t he eating? Has he done something to it? Like that time I tasted a clump of cayenne pepper in my popcorn. 

“Eat the chocolate” I order him, and his face shifts to me. He smirks, knowing that I’ve figured something out. 

“Why?” 

“Because you’ve done something to it” 

“No I haven’t” 

“If you haven’t, then eat it” 

He still keeps his smirk intact, holding eye contact while taking a piece and putting it in his mouth. I feel confusion wash over me, adding another feeling to the bothering emotional mess I am right now. If he ate it, he didn’t do anything to it. 

“There you go, would you like me to eat another one princess?” he teases, hand moving from the outside of my thigh to between them, making me smack them shut on him. The nickname, the eye contact, smirk, teasing and his movements. My hand flies to my mouth, looking away as I try to contain my sounds. 

“Struggling a bit?” 

I look over at him again. He knows what he’s done, and I know it too. His teasing nature and playful expression. He’s loving this. 

“You fucking -ahh!” his hand moves lower, fingertips grabbing my flesh, leading me to stop mid sentence. 

“Careful, you seem a bit worked up” 

“No shit Josh!” I yell, becoming a hot mess. He laughs in response, taking another chocolate and putting it in his mouth, tongue going a little out of his mouth to catch the thin slice. 

“What the hell Josh!” 

“What?” he acts innocent, trying to hold his laugh. 

“Why did you do this to me, I thought I was going crazy”

“Aren’t you usually?”

“Josh!” 

“Okay, okay, just wanted to see if they worked and didn’t want to placebo myself, so I had to try another method”

“And that was me?” 

“Damn right” 

“Jesus Christ” 

He starts laughing, fingers still gracing up and down my legs, making me bite my lips. No way this man was gonna get any more satisfaction out of me. 

“It was worth it”

“Worth it?”

“Seeing you squirming under me the whole time, struggling to keep quiet. Every little touch, even the ones I didn’t mean to give gave such grand reactions” 

“God I hate you”

“Do you really?” 

“Ye- fuck!” his hand moves over to my heat, tender touches in a teasing manner. My hips automatically jolt, pulling myself closer to him. 

“Fucking hell, you’re desperate for me” 

“Don’t you have anything to wear off the effects of this thing?” I plead, my body turning to putty from his touches. 

“I mean, no, we could fuck it out but-” 

“Yes do that” 

His expression changes to surprise as I keep squirming, desperate for some type of release or friction. I could literally come from a single touch right now, so close to the edge. 

“Nah” he shrugs, throwing my legs off him and taking another piece of chocolate. 

“What?”

“You’re desperate, you don’t know what you want” 

“I swear to god Josh, if you don’t-”

“What are you gonna do? Your body is so tensed up right now that you can barely take a step” he crosses his arms, biting his lip slightly. 

“Josh, please” 

“No” 

“Fucking hell” I gasp, throwing my head back to contain myself. He looks over at my pathetic mess of a girl. 

“I mean, I guess it would be different if you did it with someone you’ve actually wanted for some time” 

He knows something, he must know something. Why else would he pine me like this, trying to get a confession out of me. I have to give out, my body needy and pining. I sit up, placing myself on his lap so we’re face to face. He only smirks in response. Of course he knows, I haven’t exactly tried to hide my feelings. 

“What?” 

“You know what” I state, closing the distance and kissing him. He returns it, hands going to my upper thighs, getting me to grind on his already hard boner. His face pulls away, already a breathing mess. 

“I want you to tell me, tell me you love me” 

I lean forwards, barely touching our lips. 

“I love you Josh” 

His hand moves to the back of my neck, pulling me into him in a sloppy kiss. He gets rougher, teeth biting down on my lower lip. My arms go around him, tugging at his sweater from behind. He leans forward, letting me pull it off and throw it on the floor. He does the same to me, not even looking at my bra before clasping it off as well. He’s not in his right mind, eyes glossy and lustful. Is this how I’ve been looking the entire evening? He goes straight for the kill, kissing and biting my collar and chest, taking my boob and leaving dark marks all over. 

None of us can control the sounds we make, the room filling up with groans, whimpers and moans. He tries to take my pants off, and I sit up so they make it down to my knees. I pull them off the rest of the way, leaving them with our tops. His hand goes down to my heat, feeling the soaked panties. 

“Christ, you’re wet” 

“I’ve been trying to tell you” 

“Something has to be done then” 

He moves the fabric to the side, fingers gracing my folds all the way up to my clit. My breath hitches, and I push myself against him. A small snicker leaves his lips as my head rests on his shoulders. My hips buckle, trying to take advantage of his fingers. 

“I want to see you” he whispers in my ear, his other hand pushing me back down on his lap, face to face. He inserts two of his fingers, fascinated by my blushing mess of an expression and sounds. I start moving, trying to get more out of him, and he smirks at my attempt. My hand flies down to do it myself, but he’s too quick, grabbing my wrist and placing my hand on his shoulder. He loves this, having full control when I’m not even able to control myself. His fingers start pumping in and out, thumb rubbing my clit at the same time. How does he do it? How is he so good at this? The tightened knot in my stomach finally pulls, and I come all over him, only feeling ecstasy for a small moment before a new tension starts building up. 

“Already ready for more? This is gonna be a long night” 

“Shut up and do your thing Josh” 

“Harsh words coming from you when you’re at my mercy” 

“Wait for the chocolate to hit and let’s see how you feel then” 

“Okay, okay, I’ll keep going” His fingers continue their attack, the other hand pushing my body against him, giving him access to my neck. He moves away the stray hairs, and starts kissing my collar. Wet and weak ones, some barely touching. I cry out as I come again, euphoria and dizziness overtaking me. I hold his shoulders firmly, needing to set my balance. He smirks against my skin, keeping his pace and technique, ready to get me going again. 

My body is already tired, but the effects of the chocolate still rushes through my body, making me all hot and bothered again. 

“Come on, you can do it one more time for me” 

His words fuel me, making me wetter and desperate. I need him inside me, I need to feel him. 

“Josh…” I whimper, his fingers working their magic, and stacking a third orgasm on me as I come. He laughs. 

“This is actually awesome” 

“You sound like a child” I say, breathless and sloppy. 

“I’m just fascinated” 

“God I hate you” I whimper, the tension already starting to build up again. How much of this substance did he give me?

“If this is hate then I’m loving it” he smirks, cheeks red and face hot. He’s starting to feel the effects, and I know it. I lower myself on him, pushing down and grinding. His head falls back as he groans, hands flying to my hips, guiding me. I look down, and start messing with his pants, unbuttoning it and gliding down the zipper. He’s hard, making a tent in his boxers. I grab him, earning a small whimper in reply. 

“Cat got your tongue Joshy?” I tease, getting wetter by the way I treat him. Oh, how he was gonna get back. I jump off him, sitting down below the couch and pulling his pants down. I do the same with his boxers, leaving him naked in front of me. I take it in, seeing how beautiful he’s in the dim yellow light. My eyes fly over his toned stomach, each curvation being highlighted by the shine. He’s breathing heavily, heaving almost. I notice the slight twitch of his hand, fingers struggling to stop themselves. He wants to get off, and he’s trying not to. 

I’m not going to be that mean, and I lean forward, grabbing hold of his dick, slowly jerking up and down. He falls back yet again, finally feeling the pleasure he’s been craving. My other hand goes to take off my underwear, sliding the fabric off my feet. I push myself forward, taking a long lick over his shaft, making him let out a choked moan. With my lips at his tip, I take him in, as much as possible. My hand still remains on the base of him, still moving. My head follows the movement, bopping myself up and down as the tip reaches the back of my throat. 

I feel tears in the corners of my eyes, struggling not to fall. I can’t help the sounds coming out of me as I keep up the pace. His hands take hold of my head, forcing it up and down. 

“Yes, yes, just like that” he moans, desperate and needy. I let him work my head, grabbing my hair harshly. My hand wanders to my heat, rubbing and stimulating the area. I look up, his eyes wild and lips wet. He starts twitching in my mouth, letting me know he’s nearing his edge. He stops mid-push, slowly dragging my head off him, making a loud pop-sound. I relax in his hands, feeling his thumb clean off my chin. 

“Get up here” 

I oblige, getting on top of him again and colliding. Our lips lock, tongues fret as we make out. He slowly moves us, leaning my back down on the sofa. My hands wander to the back of his neck pulling him closer. I’ve never wanted someone so close before, needing to feel him all over me, to touch me everywhere, cage me, lay on top of me, just melt into me. His hand grabs my jaw, tilting my face to the side as he leaves kisses down my neck and stomach. He hoists my legs upon his shoulders before taking a lick over my heat. 

“Fuck” 

He keeps going, sucking and stimulating my clit, making me come over his mouth. He doesn’t stop, fingers moving inside me, making me get off and keep the euphoric high I’m drunk on. I get dizzier as he continues, trying to milk me all dry. I come again, throwing my head back and crying out. Tears of pleasure and pain fall down my cheeks, breath hitching and desperate. 

He moves over to me, letting me taste myself on his tongue. He looks satisfied, at least a little. Proud of himself and his accomplishments tonight. I stroke his hair, pushing it out of the way. He’s gorgeous. Breathless, sweaty, horny and beautiful. 

“Are you okay?” 

I smile, nodding in response. “I’ve never felt better” 

He smiles, too tired to keep up his cocky persona. I feel his dick gracing my entrance, begging to be let in. I lean towards him, signalling for him to get into me, to fill me up. He does as told, slowly pushing himself in, my walls surrounding him. It goes easily because of our arousals, juices mixing and spilling. He gets all the way in, and I gasp at his size. He doesn’t waste time, moving quickly, going all the way out before slamming into me again. The window is still open, probably making the whole neighbourhood hear us. His hand moves to my clit, rubbing as he continues moving. 

“Josh…” 

“Yeah, I’m here”

“I’m gonna” 

I cum again, body almost shutting down. I can’t move my arms or legs, the overstimulation and continuous cumming making me sore and exhausted. I tighten around him, not meaning to, and he moans my name. He leans over, kissing me and making us swallow each other's sounds. I come again, legs twitching and core tightening again. Pain and pleasure mix as they run through my spine and up to my head, coming out as yet another scream. 

“You’re doing so well for me” he whispers, voice choked and tired. He was almost done, almost done getting off from being with me, in me. A last deep thrust seals it, and his head falls in the crook of my head as he comes and twitches. 

We’re both breathing heavily, trying to calm our pulse. As the chocolade wears off, I sense how sore I am, how tired and destroyed my whole body is. At the same time, it’s filled with happiness. I’ve had sex with Josh Washington, my Josh, who loves me. 

A kiss on my neck brings me back to reality, and I look down to see that he’s gained his strength back. That was fast. 

“So, did you like the chocolate?” 

“I’m gonna kill you” 

“You can try, but that doesn’t stop the fact that you love me, and just came like… how many times?” 

“Jesus Christ” 

“That’s what I thought” 

His hand moves to caress my stomach, and I suddenly feel really cold. The room is freezing, and I shuffle closer to him, stealing his warmth. 

“Want to take a shower?” 

“If I can walk” I smile, not really knowing how to get up. 

“Luckily, I’ve got arms” he teases, standing up and taking hold of me. 

“I’m still gonna kill you”

“Sure you are”

[cjlouwho]

Twelve Christmases

No specific chapter tags

Read below or on ao3. You can also start from the beginning here.

Day 12: 2031

“What are you doing?”

“Shh!” Tommy waved his hand dramatically as he took a very slow, very precise step. “You're going to wake her up, Evan.”

“She's been out like a light for an hour,” Buck reminded him with a smile, “and I've got music playing in her room. So, what are you doing?”

Tommy lifted a foot, showing Buck the bottom of a black, rubber boot. “A little water and flour,” he explained. “I'm making Santa's footprints.”

Buck crossed his arms, leaning against the living room entryway. “It's sixty degrees outside. Where is this snow coming from?”

Tommy sighed. “It's magic."

“You know that's gonna be a nightmare to clean up tomorrow once it dries.”

“It'll be fine.”

“I'll remind you of that when you're scrubbing.”

“I need more,” Tommy said, ignoring Buck's comments as he stood still as a statue in the middle of the living room. “I have a spray bottle in the kitchen, and a plate with flour on it. Bring it to me, please?”

Buck shook his head, but went and got what Tommy needed. “Please tell me you're not stepping your feet into our good dishes,” he whined on his way back, setting the plate on the ground.

“They're new boots. We'll throw it in the dishwasher. Stay down there, spray my shoes.”

“Is this some new type of fetish for you? I know we're not supposed to judge, but...”

“Evan.”

“Okay, okay, I'm spraying.”

After each foot was sprayed and floured again, Tommy resumed his walk until he reached the front door.

“Seems wrong to not have Santa going up a chimney,” Buck said as Tommy carefully took off his boots.

“We don't have a chimney.”

“I could get a photo of Chimney and tape it to the door.”

“I know you're joking,” Tommy said, stepping closer to Buck, “but if you do that I might start committing violent crimes.”

Buck reached out and felt over Tommy's shirt. “You'd look hot in orange,” he decided as he leaned in for a kiss.

“Wait.” Tommy stopped him right before their lips met. He looked down between them, pointing at Buck's foot. “You're dangerously close to stepping on Santa's footprint.”

The moment ruined, Buck patted Tommy's chest. “I'm gonna bring out her presents.”

“I'm going to put these boots in three garbage bags, wash them when she goes to Maddie's on Friday, and give them to George at work on Saturday.”

“Why are you giving George your boots?”

“What do I need giant, black, rubber boots for?”

“Well, why does George need giant, black, rubber boots?”

“Are we really doing this right now, Evan?”

Buck rolled his eyes, raising his hands in surrender. “Getting the presents now.”

“Watch out for the footprints!” Tommy whisper-yelled as Buck headed down the hall.

Buck's only response was a low groan.

*****

The third time Tommy checked the time it was 4:45. He turned from one side to the other, wrapping his arm around Buck's waist.

“You're supposed to be sleeping,” Buck grumbled.

“Sorry.” Tommy pressed a kiss between Buck's shoulder blades. “I'm excited.”

“Really? Couldn't tell.”

Buck stretched out his legs, then turned over to face Tommy. “You know she's gonna be going nonstop once she wakes up. This is your last chance for rest.”

“She's been wanting that bike for months, Evan. And she already knows how to ride without training wheels. Can you believe that?”

“I can.” Buck brought a hand to Tommy's face, gently stroking his cheek. “You taught her well.”

“You ate the cookies, right?” Tommy asked, and Buck couldn't help but grin at him. He looked like such a child, wide eyed and ready to take on the day.

“I ate the cookies.”

“And the milk?”

“I drank the milk.”

“You think the note was okay?” Tommy asked. “It wasn't too wordy, was it?”

“Tommy,” Buck inched forward, pressing his lips against Tommy's. “Her Christmas will be perfect. You've made sure of that.”

“We've made sure of that,” Tommy corrected, giving him another kiss.

Buck ran his hand down Tommy's arm until he intertwined their hands, squeezing tight. “You okay?” he asked. “I know you're excited, but I- I also know Christmas has a lot of not-so-great memories for you.”

That was an understatement if there ever was one. Christmas of 2025 was one of the best for Tommy. Spent with Evan, his family, and the rest of the 118, the entire day was something out of a storybook. It was overwhelming and, once they got home, Tommy found himself sobbing in the bathroom. When Buck found him, Tommy ended up spilling his guts on every past Christmas.

By the time they were done, Buck promised that if he never wanted to celebrate the holiday again, he wouldn't have to.

But Tommy did. It's all he ever wanted, and he had it now, and it was good and terrifying and a lot to wrap his head around.

Then, they got their daughter, and Christmas had been taken up a notch every year since then. Buck always figured he'd be the one to dive head first into holidays, but Tommy quickly took the reigns, and Buck loved every second of it.

“I'm okay,” Tommy assured him.

“You'll come to me later if you get not okay?”

Tommy nodded. “Promise,” he said, wrapping his and Buck's pinkies together.

Buck scooted in as close as he could, closing his eyes as he entangled their bodies.

Just as Tommy thought he might be able to fall back to sleep, he heard the familiar patter of little feet heading toward their door.

“Get ready,” Buck mumbled against his chest.

The door flung open. “Daddy! Papa! Christmas!” She came running to the bed, jumping right on top of her dads.

“Whoa!” Tommy exclaimed, the both of them scooting back to give her space between them. “It's Christmas?!” he questioned.

“Mhm!”

“Are you sure about that?” Buck asked, cocking his eyebrow.

“I'm sure! Presents, please!” She grabbed both of their hands and began tugging. “Please, please, please!”

*****

Tommy got tears in his eyes as he watched his babygirl squeal when she saw Santa's footprints. He became even more misty when Buck helped her read the letter Santa left her. By the time she was tearing open her presents and screaming at the sight of her new bike, Buck had to put a hand on his back and gently rub up and down, soothing him so he wouldn't break down into full sobs right in front of their daughter.

He never tried to hide his emotions from her, but he also knew she wouldn't really understand her dad hyperventilating with happiness because he loved her so much.

“Can I go ride it?!” she asked, already snapping her helmet on her head.

“The sun's not even up yet,” Buck joked, but he knew he wouldn't win this fight. Tommy was already standing, quickly throwing the wrapping paper into a giant trash bag so they could go.

“Please, Daddy!” she begged, her bottom lip poking out.

He laughed. “I bet Papa is willing to take the first bike shift while I get breakfast ready, aren't you?” he asked, looking up at Tommy with a grin.

“Oh, absolutely!” he answered. “Go put on your shoes and grab a jacket, then we'll go.”

As she ran out of the room, Buck stood, wrapping his arms around Tommy. “Breakfast will take about an hour,” he said as Tommy pressed a kiss to his temple. “That enough time?”

Tommy rested his hands at Buck's lower back. “Yup. I'll take her back out after.”

Buck leaned back enough to look into Tommy's eyes. “You still good?”

Tommy nodded. “I'm great, Evan.”

*****

“Alright." Tommy clapped his hands together after making the final adjustments on her helmet. “You got this?”

“I got this!” she yelled, smiling brightly.

She got ready to take off, but stopped suddenly, leaning over and squeezing her arms around Tommy's waist the best she could.

“Oh!” he breathed out in surprise. He squatted down so he could give her a better hug. “What's this for?” he asked.

“For being the bestest papa ever and ever!”

She gave him a smack of a kiss on the cheek and let go, pushing herself forward and taking off on the bike.

Tommy wiped the tears from his face and started to jog behind her, his heart feeling more full than he ever thought possible.

One day, this would all be a distant memory to her. She may only remember bits and pieces, but she would hold in her heart the way her parents made Christmas as perfect as possible.

And whether she chooses to have a family of her own, or spend the holiday with friends that become family, she will pass the traditions on and Christmas will continue to hold a special place in her heart. Filled with good memories of endless laughter and unconditional love.

Juniper Buckley-Kinard was five years old when her Papa unwittingly taught her that sometimes good things last forever.

[silkenwinger]

would do crazy, unspeakable things to get TA Gaz's attention. he's just so nice. never playing favourites, necessarily: his attention is always divided evenly. after all, he is a tutor figure for an hard class, and all of you need help. and while you're scared shitless of price, you know you can count on gaz's calm tone to tell you what you wrote wrong. never judging. understanding. encouraging.

it's not just his behavior, of course. have you looked at him? he's top 10 most handsome men you've ever talked to. wait, more like top 5. okay realistically he's the best looking one. and you're not the only one to get lost in his eyes, either. you hear hushed whispers of fuck me behind you when he stretches mid hour. you telepathically send whoever said that a strong mental message of stay away from my man.

as for your relationship... well. you've been working really hard on building a particular rapport. by that you mean you sit in the first row, greet him immediately, and try to come up with at least one question per session. looking hard for things to ask him has led you to a vast amount of knowledge you really don't need to pass this class, to the point you know you're getting glares from the other students. it's hard to be more forthright: you wish you could, but you're still somewhat inhibited by everything about him. for christmas, you brought him some homemade cookies, saying you made them for all TAs (absolutely false). gaz had smiled that absolutely devastating smile that made you weak in the knees. your five attempts and hours wasted had given you something back!

you've convinced yourself what you've going on is special. gaz (and oh my god, the day he told you (aka the class) you could call him that instead of mr garrick was the highlight of the month) knows your name and asks how you're doing frequently, which has completely revolutioned your world. you spend two hours getting ready every time you have to see him. when you saw him in the distance while you were talking with another classmate from another course, you almost threw the poor guy from the corridor balcony to not be seen with him.

of course, your friends call you fucking delusional, short of telling you you have absolutely no chances with him, but hope never flees true warriors' hearts.

eventually, all good things come to an end. price's class ends, you submit your long ass essay, and you don't see gaz as frequently anymore. you almost cried the last session, with him telling you all that he was kinda sad to let you go and that he was sure your final would go well. he'd even touched your shoulder! it would have been hard not to hug him if you hadn't been paralyzed by his touch in the first place.

one day, checking your results, you see that alongside price's grade there is a considerably longer email. the professor is telling you that he's seriously impressed with your essay, and that his TA, recommending you, wants to work with you on a project related to the class.

a project.

with gaz.

alone!

(part 2 here)

a/n: for both mine and your peace of mind, please tell me if this is wildly inaccurate for british universities! i'm basing the TA role as it exists in my country: someone (usually freshly graduate or about to be) who leads a secondary course for a major class, that can deal with redoing what has been done in class, solving students' doubts, in depth discussion, etc. i think this blurb will stay this way anyway, but if i ever want to write something longer on the topic 👀, i'd like to know how stuff actually works in the country it is set in lol

[ssentimentals]

hellooo!!! can i request prompt #12 with wonwoo, i think by now we’ve all seen how crazy wonwoo’s bed hair is😭 i wonder how he’d feel letting reader see it for the first time or just what they think of it in general!!

hellooo! ahahah yeah, that suits wonwoo very well!! makes me happy when prompts are very certain member coded :) thank you for requesting! 💜 hopefully you will like it!

fluff prompt: 'i love your bedhead.'

wonwoo is not dramatic. at least he likes to think that he's not; but even he can admit that right now he's being a little - just a little! - dramatic over this thing. but it's important - he wants to maintain certain image around you. every single voice in wonwoo's head screams at him that you will like him regardless of how he looks, but there is one tiny doubt he has and that tiny doubt is the reason why he's stuck in the bathroom for the past ten minutes now.

'woo?' you call out. 'is everything okay?'

a very legit question to ask, but wonwoo still cringes: 'ugh- yeah.'

'that did not come out very confident,' you point out and then he can hear shuffling and next time yuo open your mouth, your voice sounds much closer like you're leaning on the door: 'baby, is everything okay? do you need something?'

wonwoo thinks he has the best, sweetest girlfriend. he also thinks that he is being unnecessarily dramatic over staying at yours for the night for the first time ever. 'no, it's all good, love. i'm just doing my hair. you can come in, by the way.'

the door creaks and you enter with puzzled expression on your face. 'what's wrong with your hair?'

wonwoo is too focused on you looking incredibly cute in your christmas themed pjs that he doesn't catch the question at first; he blinks back to you, when you step very close, brushing his hand with yours. 'so what's up with your hair? i didn't know you had some night routine thing.'

he doesn't. he never did but you can't possibly see him with his bedhead in the morning because then you will run away and fall out of love with him. yeah, maybe he is being dramatic. 'i'm just thinking of ways how to comb my hair so in the morning it won't scare you away.'

he hopes it sounds like a joke but judging by your raised eyebrow and no smile, he didn't really land it correctly. 'i love your bedhead,' you say surely, which is cute, it really is, but-

'you've never seen my bedhead.' wonwoo points out rightfully.

you shrug. 'and? i will love it anyway.' you lean in, smiling at him sweetly. 'woo, don't overthink it. it's you, okay? i'll love your bedhead, i promise.'

that tiny doubt which used to lead his brain into this stupid predicament slowly melts away, disappears under the weight of your assureness. and he can tell that you're sincere, which makes everything even better. so he takes a deep breath and smiles: 'okay. let's go to bed then?'

you perk up, nodding. 'yes! left side is mine!'

left side is also his, but wonwoo only nods, eager to let you always take his favorite side of the bed as long as you'll have him. which he hopes is forever.

a/n: request your own here! <3 - nini

[vhswolf]

A Lover winter break | Carlos Sainz x Reader x Lando Norris x Daniel Ricciardo

Warnings: none

Face claim: Kendall Jenner

Part 2

Lovererayn

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Tagged: vhsbunny, londongirl

Lovererayn Oh, to be somewhere hot in the winter 💛

View all the comments

Vhsbunny Such a great idea!

Londongirl I'm here for it 💜

User2 Where to?

User1 never saw anyone that loves the beach as much as her

Lovererayn

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Lovererayn To all the Aussies who flooded my DM's asking for 818, I have the pleasure to say: @/drink818 is in Aussie territory!!!

Some Aussie in the chat? 👀

View all comments

Danielricciardo 🙋🏻‍♂️

User6 DANIEL?

User55 The girl collected the best Aussie ever

→ user81 best ever? Please, let's not forget about Oscar

→ user3 Danny still is the best, sorry

Vhsbunny I love to see my sis getting richer everyday

Londongirl God bless Australia

Vhsbunny

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Tagged: lovererayn

Vhsbunny Is the Aussie launch of the BEST tequila in the world for me

View all comments

Lovererayn I'm sooooo happy 💛

User55 the it girl sis ❤️

User6 FINALLY I CAN HAVE YN'S TEQUILA!

User9 Best tequila? I will be judging that

Londongirl

Liked by vhsbunny, lovererayn and others

Tagged: lovererayn, itstate

Londongirl Some Aussie wants good tequila?

View all comments

User12 I WANT! Well, I'm not Aussie, but I want...

User99 I'm in to it!

Lovererayn I know one that wants! 👀

→ londongirl 👀

→ vhsbunny 👀

→ itstate 👀

→ landonorris 👀

→ landonorris I don't know what we're doing, but I want to feel included

→ lovererayn You're doing great, sweetie

→ user4 sweetie? 👀

User3 yes, please

F1gossip

F1gossip This weekend we had the launch of @/lovererayn tequila @/drink818 on Australia, and there were some familiar faces. @/danielricciardo and @/landonorris our favourites party boys (they probably got wasted by the end of it) were there!

View all comments

User4 where you least expect, Lando will be there!

User2 Laniel ❤️

User8 I never thought this was going to be the place I would see a Lando + Daniel reunion

User88 Thanks @/lovererayn for the christmas gift!

Carlossainz55

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Carlossainz55 Only sponsored drinks on the boat please

View all comments

User55 ok? So... What?

Danielricciardo I prefer the tequila

→ landonorris Me too

User14 so Carlos, Lando, Daniel and yn are spending the winter break on Australia? Noted

Lovererayn you can do a hell lot of drinks with tequila, what can you do with beer? 🤷🏻‍♀️

→ user55 was Carlos on the launch party too?

→ lovererayn Yes!

Danielricciardo

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Danielricciardo Nice summer days ☀️

View all comments

Landonorris why you never called me to spend the winter break in Australia? I'll never forgive you, mate

→ danielricciardo oops?

User33 is this a @/drink818 infestation, or is @/lovererayn everywhere?

→user44 I just think they're all together

Carlossainz55 Australia it's really as good this time of the year

Lovererayn ❤️

Lando.jpg

Liked by lovererayn, danielricciardo, carlossainz55 and others

Tagged danielricciardo, carlossainz55, lovererayn, vhsbunny, londongirl, itstate

Lando.jpg Girls trip to Australia 🦘

View all comments

Danielricciardo Girls trip?

→ lando.jpg I see you as a girl

→ danielricciardo ??

Itstate it's too many pretty people to one beach

→ vhsbunny that's the fun of it

Londongirl BEST LAST DAY ❤️

User55 what?

User6 @/lovererayn bringing together the besties and the hot guys is everything to me

Lovererayn

Liked by landonorris, danielricciardo, carlossainz55 and others

Lovererayn My girls went home, I already miss them! But I have great company ❤️

View all comments

User66 yn is not letting the trio go omg

User55 what? Now they're alone? Wtf?

User11 things are getting weird...

Danielricciardo Yes, I'm great 👍🏻

→ landonorris I'm better than you

→ carlossainz55 we all know how is the best one

→ danielricciardo @/lovererayn ok, choose

→ lovererayn Like you don't love each other... Please boys, you're all great 💛

User92 This friendship is actually cute

→ user82 is it tho?

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧

Taglist: @smokememories

[babushkatty]

Tranquil SAGAU - Part 3

-> Part 1

-> Part 2

-> Part 4

Turns out, you did jinx yourself last week.

You should have learnt your lesson from all those times you and your sister had spoken bad luck into existence, be it unannounced guests or other inconveniences.

But you didn't, so here you were.

Staring down motherfucking Ursa the Drake, with Dvalin pinning them (her?) down with his massive body and motherfucking Crepus Ragnvindr looking at you both simultaneously like it's Christmas and like he thinks he's schizophrenic.

Diluc didn't look any better. He was as white as a sheet and if you were any better at identifying emotions, you'd think he was about to cry.

...surely not?

But then again, he was younger than in the game and his father was right there, alive and well - you doubted he was anything like the cold and grumpy Diluc who closed himself off from the world that you knew.

A terrified baby that was probably overthinking how Ursa would kill him, his father and the whole cohort they traveled with all the way to Tuesday.

...now you just felt bad for judging. You wouldn't be any better in his place, especially without your scary Dvalin priviledges.

"Ursa, darling, what exactly are you doing?"

All you got for your troubles was a roar in your face.

Except it didn't even feel like a scary dragon about to eat you, it felt like a child throwing a tantrum.

...the notion of Ursa being this uncontested and plaguing Mondstadt for a thousand years while being a mere child was kind of terrifying actually, so you very deliberately decided not to dwell on it. For your own sanity, if nothing else.

"Dvalin, you know Ursa, so... Any ideas?" You asked the dragon, who looked almost bored as he outright lounged on Ursa as if they (she?) were his beddings. If that didn't make a statement, you didn't know what would.

"While we did not cross paths frequently in the past, I had always thought her to be... Especially nefarious."

Ursa trashed around, but Dvalin didn't budge and effortlessly kept them (her? her.) pinned down.

"She reminds me of Durin. But where Durin was oblivious to the grevious harm he caused and merely wanted to play, Ursa is fully conscious and reveling in the pain she inflicts on others, often being open to agreements that involve human sacrifice."

Ursa screeched. In protest, maybe?

"For now, there is not much that can be done. You would need to be much stronger to subdue her permamently, which requires time. But I shall stall her until you are strong enough, alongside Boreas."

Oh.

So your scary Dvalin priviledges were being voided. It was a shame, you really liked his company -- his stories were a delight to listen to and he spoiled you rotten for comfortable accomodations, any bed or chair from now on would be a massive downgrade.

Still, it was understandable. Responsibilities and human lives were priority over your comfort. You weren't going to complain too much.

"I'll miss you," you say as you stroke his wings, not really having access to his torso or head to hug him properly due to Ursa.

Speaking of Ursa...

"Be good. You're making trouble for everyone."

And maybe you were being reckless and simply asking for your arm and face to be bitten off, but you flicked her on the snoot, because you only live once and Dvalin had you mildly convinced nothing in Teyvat would hurt you.

Ursa startles and then, honest to God, whines.

Dvalin huffs in what you assume is amusement and grabs at Ursa with his massive limbs. His wings stretch as he readies himself to take flight.

"I will miss you too, (Name)."

And just like that both dragons are gone like the wind.

...

That left you all alone to face the Ragnvindr and C.O., so you put on your customer service smile and clap your hands in fake excitement you really don't feel.

If nothing else, working in retail taught you how to play the fool.

"So, now that that is done and over with. I believe you have a mess to clean up?"

Crepus looks at you like you grew an extra head, before doubling over in a hearty laugh that broke through the weird atmosphere that settled over the caravan as easily as a hot knife through butter.

Diluc still looks like a poke would knock him over, but at least he got some colour back in him.

"Ah, thank you for that."

Crepus walks over to you and offers you a handshake, gripping your hand firmly and with enthusiasm that was entirely on him. Not that you weren't excited to meet characters from Genshin... but that was the thing, wasn't it? They weren't the characters you knew in Genshin. Crepus was barely a mention, Diluc was a different person entirely and the rest of the caravan were either NPCs hanging around on the map somewhere or didn't exist in the game at all.

So, you had to treat them like actual people.

And you weren't good with people.

"No problem. I'm (Name) (Last Name), just call me (Name) please."

Smile through the pain Harold, grant me your strength.

"Crepus Ragnvindr, and the redhead over there is my son, Diluc. It's a pleasure to meet you, (Name)."

He lets go of your hand and smiles so brightly you half-heartedly wished for some sunglasses. Was this man sunshine personified? Certaintly felt like he was.

"I would say I wish we met under different circumstances, but that's not exactly the truth, is it? Any other circumstances would have me trying to fight Ursa the Drake and that was bound to end badly for me, so... Thank you for saving my life."

And at that precise moment the Knights of Favonius spurred on by Kaeya Alberich himself burst into the scene, weapons ready.

...Kaeya looked like such a baby too, it had you thinking on just how young the literal children like Diona would be.

☆(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ* ✨ Author Note✨

Suprise, we're 4 years early in the timeline! And I have no idea what the timeline is besides what little I glimpsed from the Wiki, so lore accuracy is thrown out the window!

✨ I still can't tag the one person that asked to be tagged and I'm feeling horrible for it even when it's not my fault ✨

Also, yes, ✨ is my favourite emoji, why do you ask? :D

Also, also -- yes, I did pump out 3 parts in 2/3 days, it is an anomaly, do not expect such pace from me especially since I'm about to throw myself head first into HSR.

✨Self-plug time✨

My UID is 715 837 832 and I got a lvl50 Bronya as support.

I am still on Walt copium, even though I didn't get him even once despite the many, MANY rerolls I did, but that is neither here nor there.

[themissinghand]

Nice to meet you🤗..If the request is still open, Can I ask for Dokja's request for lucky female readers?🥹..Where do reader have high good luck?.The reader and Kim Dokja have known each other for a long time because the reader first started a conversation with Dokja (I'm sure it's fun when Dokja introduces reader to his group😂.) It's okay if not. Just don't be stressed by the requests. I hope the requests don't bother you.. Thank you.. And may your whole day till night be good.. Bye-bye.. Don't forget to take care of yourself.🤗💕

Omniscient Reader Viewpoint Lucky Star

Summary: In which Dokja finds his lucky star.

Or, maybe he’s not that unlucky after all.

Pairing: Kim Dokja x Lucky! F! Reader

Note: Thanks for your patience! Make sure you all take care of yourselves too~

Noona: typically used by younger male to call an older female or sibling.

Warning: None.

★・・・・・・★

If there is an angel in this world, then it must be you.

You were a bright light in his life, providing salvation to him in forms of patience, encouragement, and friendship.

You were his manager at the game company he worked at. Someone who was vibrant and cheerful, who possessed an uncanny ability to turn the mundane into moments of joy.

"Dokja! Let’s go for a drink!" You would say, your infectious enthusiasm pulling him into a world where deadlines and stress would melt away.

But you also knew when to not take in bullshit.

“Hey (Y/N), why are you overreacting? Huh? Just because I didn’t do my work the one time-“

“One time? It’s been a week since you did anything. And you put it on the newbie to finish it?”

“So what? You’re a terrible manager anyway, that’s why women shouldn’t work here-“

A snap silenced him.

“Hey mother fucker, calculate your severance pay. Talk to me like that in the disputes office and see who dies first.”

Kim Dokja heard it accidentally, but from then on, his respect for you has soared above the clouds.

"Dokja, you've got this! I'll teach you the ropes.”

Dokja marveled at your ability to lead the team with outspoken confidence, patiently teaching him the ropes and offering unwavering support when the challenges of the workplace seemed overwhelming.

“Happy birthday to our newbie, Kim Dokja!”

“Merry Christmas everyone! I got some gifts!”

“Ya, let’s go out for a drink everyone! I got the holy bank card from the boss!”

The team loves you for being a beacon of light, someone who could be fun and leader-like at the same time.

Dokja couldn't help but think that you must be cherished by the heavens, as you were blessed with an extraordinary dose of luck.

Like how you would “accidentally” meet important connections and befriend them, leading to successful results in projects.

Or how you would win those in gacha games with the character that you wanted.

“Noona, if you were in a game, your luck stat would be maxed out.”

“I guess so, but isn’t that good?”

Very soon after, little did he know that your luck would soon become a lifeline when the world plunged into chaos.

When the apocalypse struck, Dokja stumbled upon the familiar face in an unlikely place – the convenience store, hastily gathering supplies with a calm demeanor that belied the impending doom. It was then that he realized the depth of her luck, a quality that extended beyond corporate success.

Like how does someone find a healing elixir in a pile of junk food in the convenience store!?

Or how does she find a ultra rare bow in a police station?

What is this unfair world!?

Dokja appreciates your help and your luck, but at the same time, he can’t help but lament on his own life.

Perhaps the luckiest thing that happened to him was dating you.

With such a thought, Kim Dokja’s lips curled up and hugged you from behind.

“What wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Does my good boy want some love?”

Although he was blushing aggressively and in public, he couldn’t help but nod.

[The Constellation ‘Demon-Like Judge of Fire’ is squealing and wishing for grandchildren]

[The Constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ thinks Incarnation ‘Kim Dokja’ play a main character of a romance comedy show]

[The Constellations have sponsored you 1000 coins]

“Get a room.”

Dokja expected the worst when Yoo Joonghyuk entered the scene, but to his surprise, your life was spared.

“She’s useful.” Says the emo sunfish as he glares at Dokja for absolutely no reason.

(Okay, there might be that one time where he returned a punch, and absolutely wrecked that protagonist…no regrets)

Dokja wants to smack him a few times in the face.

The revelation that her constellation was the Secretive Plotter added another layer of mystery to her extraordinary luck. The constellation seemed to guard her against many dangers, marking her as someone to be protected, though for some unknown reason.

Can’t say Kim Dokja has any complaints about that at all.

You must be protected at all costs.

[The Constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ thinks her lucky encounters and moments are interesting]

[The Constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ donates 1864 coins]

Whatever it is, Kim Dokja has no complaints…scrap that, he has too many complaints since he has too many rivals!

“(Y/N), you are my lucky star right?”

“Yep! Don’t worry!” She pats him on the head and he ignores the knowing looks from others on the team.

“Hug.”

“Someone’s needy today.” Kim Dokja gave others the middle finger behind your back as he rested his head on your shoulders.

From that point on, Dokja affectionately dubbed her his "lucky star" or, as they playfully jokes, his "lucky charm."

Whether it was winning luck-based games or navigating perilous situations unscathed, your fortunate aura became a source of both amusement and comfort in the face of uncertainty.

“So, what’s it like raising a puppy as a Sugar Mommy?” Han Sooyoung asks you, who chuckles lightly.

“Han Sooyoung.” Kim Dokja twitched a brow, but calmed down a bit when you held his hand.

“He’s not a puppy, but he’s cute and bites people he doesn’t like. And he protects me well!”

“(Y/N)!” Kim Dokja blushes in embarrassment but couldn’t say anything in his stuttering mess.

Han Sooyoung raised a brow before she mimicked a barfing action.

“Damn girl, you have it hard, I respect you.” She patted your shoulder before leaving.

“Dokja, just like I’m your lucky star and charm, you are my lucky puppy. Okay?”

Looking at your puppy face, Dokja couldn’t say no.

“Fine…just don’t call me that in public…”

Kim Dokja felt a kiss in his nose, and he reciprocated the action by lacing your hands together.

“Aw, who’s a good boy?”

“Stop it…”

Your laughter is music to his ears, and while sometimes your teases make him want to hide somewhere in a hole and die from embarrassment, he loves you all the same.

“Get a room!”

“Shut up you sunfish!”

Maybe cursing at the protagonist isn’t the greatest idea.

(When has that ever stopped him?)

“I will kill you Kim Dokja!”

[zepskies]

Hello. I was wondering if you could write an imagine in the BMD-verse (been following it for a while now; love, love, love it, by the way!) where Ben cries?

Like something really bad happens in general or to the Reader, and he losses it? I mean, personally, I have never known this man to cry, and I would love to see you conjure up something that could possibly elicite that reaction from him.

But no pressure - will definitely understand if you don't want to write it!

Oooh, so you really wanna kill me, huh? 🫠😭😭

Lol it's okay, thank you for loving Break Me Down!! It's one of my favorite story verses that I've been able to create on here. ❤️❤️

This request was difficult for me on multiple levels, but I think I was able to pull it off? (I'll let you be the judge.) This is set in the BMD-verse, shortly after "Love Actually."

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

Word Count: 2,400 Tags/Warnings: Major angst, show-level violence, hurt/comfort, "twist" ending (you'll want to read until the end, trust me).

Imagine: Ben loses you.

Ben restrained another sigh when he realized you were no longer walking next to him.

He turned and saw you stopping in another damn kiosk, this time looking at a selection of Pashmina scarves. As if you didn’t have enough clothes.

“We’re not here for a damn shopping spree,” he called after you.

He ignored the people who glanced at him as they walked past, a couple of them even shooting him an annoyed look.

One didn’t just stop in the middle of a busy sidewalk in New York City, but as with most societal protocols, Ben couldn't really give a fuck.

He almost started tapping his foot. Instead, he crossed his arms as he glared in your general direction. You were smiling and chatting with the woman selling her wares as you finished the transaction.

Ben at least could admire the view of you bent over in those tight jeans and ankle boots. You also wore the dark green winter coat he bought you last month, lined with faux fur to keep you warm.

When you eventually came back to him, you shot him an amused smile. You held a new scarf in shades of green and blue, to match your coat. But you also held out a new pair of leather gloves for him.

“Here you go, Grumpy. I didn't forget about you,” you teased. He raised a wry brow at you and took the gloves. He inspected them with a half-critical eye.

“And how much did these cost, five cents?”

You rolled your eyes and kept walking. He caught up with you and slipped the gloves into his pocket.

“My hands don’t get cold anyway,” he reminded you. And you often complained that his body heat was like a radiator, especially at night. Although, you hadn’t been complaining since the winter turned frigid this February.

“All right, whatever. Just don’t say I never get you anything,” you quipped. “Besides, you know you love to accessorize.”

A smirk pulled at Ben’s lips. The gloves were a half-assed gift, but he still wore the watch you got him for Christmas proudly on his wrist. That was a nice silver Rolex.

“All I know is, we’d better not be late for this damn meeting,” he said. “I don’t wanna hear Mallory’s fucking mouth.”

The two of you had made a day of coming into the city, hitting a nice brunch spot and ice skating at Rockefeller center before your date had been rudely interrupted—by a call for a new mission.

Grace Mallory had been a bit cryptic on the phone, but it had something to do with the mess Ben left of the drug cartels in South America. After they got back to the States, Ben left that “business” behind…he just hadn’t thought of how that would shake out in Colombia.  

So now, you two were headed to the Supe Affairs building. You slipped your arm around his, while his hands were in his pockets. You looked up at him with a smile.

“Try to enjoy the little things, Ben,” you told him. “We had mimosas and some bougie ass lobster tails with our eggs this morning. I skated circles around you on the ice. And now we’re going to get some work done.”

“On our day off,” he retorted.

“To be fair, you made the mess, Mr. Kingpin,” you pointed out. “We’ve just gotta clean it up…as usual.”

“Hey," he eyed you. But you both knew the warning had little heat behind it.

He still reached for your cheek and brushed his thumb across it. He felt how cold your face was, and he stopped for a moment in the middle of the sidewalk. Neither of you cared when pedestrians gave you dirty looks as they passed by.

Maybe you were right though. Maybe he should take stock of the small moments. Ben held your face with both hands and caressed some warmth back into your skin.

Your smile softened, and your eyes closed when his lips found their way to your forehead. He then took the newly bought scarf out of your hand and wrapped it comfortably around your neck.

“What a gentleman,” you said, with a small grin.

Ben smirked down at you…until his face fell.

He heard the whistle of the bullet before he saw it.

It took him another second to move, grabbing you and shielding you with his entire body when it hit his back. The bullet itself bounced harmlessly off his skin, but the inner compartment of Novichok exploded like a small smoke bomb. The smell was too familiar to him to be anything else.

Ben coughed and was forced to push you away from him before the gas reached you. You yelped and almost tripped on your feet, but you scrambled back against the wall of a drycleaners. Your wide eyes met his as his knees buckled; the gas had clouded around his head.

“Run!” he shouted through fits of coughing.

You hesitated, for just a second. But when another bullet ricocheted into the wall behind you, near your head, you ducked and had to take off running.

You wove through the busy sidewalk, pushing people out of your way as you went. Whoever was after him this time, you had a feeling these were the people Ben had pissed off in Colombia.

Fuck! You sprinted past an alleyway and saw the hand coming for your arm, but even when you turned, there was another man, dressed a black military-style uniform with his face covered by a black mask, waiting to grab you from behind.

It was muscle memory. You released an elbow into the man’s neck, a punch straight into his teeth and nose, then kicked his knee out with the heel of your boot.

You grabbed your gun from under your jacket and would've shot him, except the next man wheelhouse kicked it out of your hand. You stepped back on instinct, ducking the following punch, and the rest of his arm to run in the opposite direction.

The first man pointed a large automatic gun straight in your face. You gasped and put your hands up. With a quick glance in either direction, you realized that they’d cornered you.

Your hands were pulled behind your back by someone else. That’s when they started dragging you toward a black SUV parked in the corner.

Except that car was soon destroyed, by an old Honda Civic being shoved into it. The SUV's hood constantined like an accordion.

You looked up with wide eyes, and there stood Ben, at the crossroads of the alley. He was furious.

“Soldier Boy,” greeted the man who once again held the automatic gun poised at you. He pulled down his mask, revealing the tan face of a middle-aged man.

He moved over to you and grabbed your arm from his subordinate. He raised the gun to your back. With one press of his finger, your insides could become Swiss cheese.

Your jaw clenched as you tried to take in even breaths. You focused on Ben. His green eyes met yours, and briefly you caught the worry behind them before his steely gaze moved back to the man who held you.

“Pretty ballsy, Reyes,” Ben said. His voice was a drawl, more controlled than he felt. “You really thought this was gonna go down that easy?”

Reyes scoffed. “You’re the ballsy one. Taking off with all that product you stole.”

“You’ll have to take up with the CIA on that one,” Ben replied. “They confiscated all the smack from my place. Probably reselling it to a few hobos down the street. You’re welcome to check under the bridge over there.”

He gestured in the direction of the Hudson River.  

Reyes shrugged. The sound of a gun’s safety being clipped back resounded through the alley. You felt the vibration of it on your back. Your eyes closed for a moment.

“Bad news for her,” he said.

"Hey," Ben snapped. "There's no fucking need for that."

"I think I'll decide what we need," said Reyes. Your lips pursed as the gun dug into your back. "Maybe it's your bitch's insides at your feet."

Ben slowly raised a placating hand. Though his gait was still relaxed and arrogant, as always, you knew it was a well-crafted act. To hide his anger. His fear. To seem in control of himself, and to reinforce the intimidating presence he still was, even unarmed.

“Listen. If it’s money you want, we can work it out,” Ben replied.

His eyes once again found yours. He could see you were holding your breath. You were good at hiding it, but he knew you were scared. He wanted to tell you that he had this handled. That everything would be all right.

He focused on Reyes again. The other man considered the supe with a tilt of his head. He sucked his teeth and spit on the ground, out of the corner of his mouth. It was mixed with a bit of blood from when you'd punched him in the teeth.

“Okay, my friend,” said Reyes. “Let’s work this out. Pull out your phone.”

Ben made slow movements in grabbing his phone from his pocket. They all stepped further into the alley to avoid prying eyes and discussed the transfer of funds, and how much was fair. Ben claimed he was giving him a deal with his first offer.

Reyes demanded three times that amount. Ben raised his brows...but he complied. The money transferred from his bank account.

“Okay, we’re fucking done,” Ben snarked. He gestured at you with his eyes. “Let her go.”

In his mind, he was already contemplating how thoroughly he'd rip Reyes apart for this. After you were safe. He'd have a first class ticket to Medellin by tonight, ready to Colombian-necktie this cocksucker.

Reyes sighed through his nose. There was still about ten feet between him and Ben. He didn't seem to think it was enough. He took the gun off your back and backed up with you a few steps. Eventually, he released your arm.

“Come ‘ere, sweetheart,” Ben reached a hand out, beckoning for you. You met his gaze once again, and let out a subtle breath.

You took three hesitant steps forward.

And the gunshots echoed horribly through the alley.

As it turned out, Reyes always had an escape plan. You were merely the distraction.

It proved effective, as Ben’s protest rang out as soon as the bullets fired. He raced forward and caught you as you stumbled, but his hands soon became coated in your blood; it fled from your back in thin rivulets.

You gasped and clung to his arms. His ears rang with the sound, along with tires squealing and shouts and police sirens. All he could focus on was the color draining from your face.

Both of your breaths came out ragged as he slid with you down to his knees. He brushed your hair away from your face, even as his blood-covered hand stained your cheek. Your pained eyes drew up to his face. You tried to speak, but you didn't have the strength.

“I hear the sirens. They’re coming for you, take you to the hospital,” he promised. His voice was rough, but his throat was tight. His eyes scanned over you. “All you need is my blood and…Christ. Fuck it all.”

He laid you down on the dirty asphalt and hurriedly yanked up his coat sleeve until it ripped. It exposed his arm. He was about to drag a blunt nail across his own skin to bleed into you.

“Ben.” Your fingers twitched against his knee.

When he looked at your face, there was no longer life in your eyes.

His own were wide, almost uncomprehending. His breathing was harsh as empty hands fell to his thighs. His head felt heavy, though his ears were still ringing.

He drew enough strength in his hand to wipe the blood from your cold cheek…but your face was beginning to blur.

Or not, he realized, as the sting in his eyes took him by surprise.

In a fit of mania, he gathered you back up in his arms and ignored the wetness covering your back. He held you, impossibly tight. Tighter than he’d ever held you, because he was alone in the alley…because he was alone again.

And it was his own fault.

His eyes squeezed shut against the burn, but it was futile. Everything was. His breaths were sharp and stifled as pain tore inside. A pain worse than anything the Russian's could've inflicted on him.

His lips pressed against your forehead, trembling there. The first drops of wetness rolled down his cheek. He couldn't stop it from happening, but then again. He guessed he truly was a failure, after all.

You made the mess…

His first tears had been spent at his mother’s funeral, when he stood alone at her gravestone.

His last ones would fall and die with you.

“Ben,” your voice was soft but insistent.

He finally woke with a start. A sharp inhale through his nose.

He had been sleeping on his side. Before he even truly registered where he was, in the safety of his bedroom, he turned his head toward you.

His eyes found your face in the dark, over his shoulder. Your hair was frizzy from sleep. The strap of your nightgown had fallen off one shoulder. Your face looked bleary and tired, but you frowned in concern.

“You okay, baby?” you asked. Your hand soothed across the dewy skin on his arm.

Ben’s throat constricted. He was starting to remember bits and pieces of the dream…the nightmare. He rubbed at his eyes, then dragged a hand over his mouth.

“Yeah,” he said at last.

“Hmm.” Your gaze narrowed at him. “You sure?”

Ben had only enough energy in him to nod in response. His heart was still racing. Maybe you sensed that, because you leaned onto his arm and dropped a hand down his chest. You kissed his bare shoulder with soft lips, and he couldn’t help himself.

He raised a hand to cup the back of your head. He let out a long, relieved sigh through his nose, closing his eyes. Then he turned onto his back and brought you closer, with an arm slipping around your frame and pulling you against his chest. You made a sound of surprise, but you went willingly.

You brushed the sweaty strands of hair away from his face and pressed a kiss against his neck, to his jaw, his cheek and above his brow. He accepted it all and tried to calm his breathing with the feeling of your touch, and the smell of your flowery soap that lingered on your skin.

With a hand still cupping your head, he guided your lips to his. He claimed you slowly, but with purpose. You answered him by tilting your head, deepening the kiss for a moment.

You parted from him just as slowly. You knew everything wasn’t okay, but you also knew it wasn’t the time to push him for an answer.

Maybe in the morning, you thought. …I’ll make pancakes. Haven't done that in a while. And he’s always happier with something sweet.

You rested contentedly against his warm chest and let his heartbeat, gradually slowing back into a steady rhythm, lull you back to sleep.

Ben tangled his fingers into your hair. He laid one more kiss on the top of your head.

And for damn sure, he was going to cancel that trip into the city tomorrow.

AN: I know, I know. The "it was all a dream" thing is super cheesy, but I couldn't leave it on heartbreak. I just don't have it in me with these two. 🥲❤️‍🩹

Read the Sequel:

A friend of mine requested a sequel to this imagine: "You confront Ben about his fears."

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BMD Tag List (Part 1):

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@xoxovienna @katherineann814 @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022 @emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @karnellius @kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun @lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420 @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67

[wolfstarlibrarian]

Do you have any reality-tv AUs? Bingeing love island and i need the drama lol.

Hello friend and yes! I don't know any Love Island AUs but did include as many reality show wolfstar AUs that I could. If anyone knows of more, please reblog with recs!

Wolfstar Reality Show AUs

GBBO:

wading in waist-high water by @colgatebluemintygel Remus is a PhD student and hobbyist baker who finds himself adrift following his father’s death. On a whim, he enters the Great British Bake Off and is swept up in a flurry of curdled custard, shrunken souffle, and under-proved dough. Remus expects to be challenged and to embarrass himself on public television. What he doesn’t account for are the friendships he develops with the other contestants and the deep connection he forms with his teenage crush, Sirius Black: charming ex-boy band member and Bake Off presenter.

I Didn't Come Here to Party, I Only Came for the Cake by @attheendoftheday “Yunee foappy foabaaof,” James mumbles around the crepe in his mouth, gesticulating at the television with a fork. Sirius, much familiar with James-speak, translates. “I need to apply for the bake off?” Sirius asks. James nods.

The Great Wizarding Christmas Bake Off by @earlybloomingparentheses Three baking challenges, three glowing fruitcake runes, two not-so-secretly smitten contestants, two small explosions, one first kiss, one unexpectedly sentimental judge, and plenty of holiday cheer. Oh, and one Christmas Bake Off champion.

Let Them Eat Cake by @onlydreamofmysoul Welcome back to the newest season of The Great British Bake Off Remus is competing in the Great British Bake Off. His only focus are his cakes. (And a certain charming presenter of course)

Amazing Race:

The World Is Waiting For You by @thechanchanman “The world is waiting for you.” Leave it to Florida to have annoying birds. They don’t have birds like that in Boston. Sure, their birds are rude and will shit on you, but at least they're quiet. “Good luck. Travel safe,” Phil pauses for a moment. “Go!” Remus wasn’t paying close attention, to be honest. But thankfully Lily was. She’s still holding onto his hand when Phil announces the start of the race and pulls him forward so hard that he is now wondering if his left arm is still attached to its socket.

Married at First Sight:

Married at first sight by @tracingpatternswrites Usually, a romance story ends when the couple say I do, but in this case, that is where it starts. Can you marry a total stranger and still make it work? Can a group of experts really find your perfect match? And how do you stay true to yourself when your every move is caught on camera?

BOOK REC:

Looking for a book similar to these fics? With characters that are so lovable? A disaster millionaire with anxiety who goes on a dating show to change his reputation and a producer with depression who loves love but can never find it for himself? Then check out this book!

The Charm Offensive by Alison Cochrun

“I’m not afraid of anything. Except emotional intimacy and abandonment.”

If you've read any of the fics or the book please scream at me!

[undead-supernova]

High Tolerance Masterlist

pairings: modern!bestfriend!Eddie x bisexual!fem!reader

plot: you and Eddie decide to have a calm day before your Christmas party. and, for the first time since you met this year, you find clarity.

cw: cannabis consumption, nicotine indulgence, a dash of spice, gentle angst

wc: 3.2k

note: this is a one-off of my High Tolerance series, as well as my submission for @littlexdeaths's Christmas Event, choosing prompt 10: ghosts of Christmas past. I love you, Mari. Merry Chrysler <3

This is a Christmas present for one of my lovely best friends, @jo-harrington who has made a huge impact in my life, my heart, and my writing. Thank you for all the love you've shown me. I don't take any of it for granted.

“No, what I’m saying is that I think a man is lame if he won’t let a woman peg him.”

“That’s over dramatic.”

“What, you don’t agree with me?”

“No, I just think you’re simplifying it.”

“Are you saying that you wouldn’t let a woman peg you?”

“I didn’t say that.” 

“Ha!”

Eddie shook his head, carrying the last of the Kroger bags to your kitchen. “Listen, all I’m saying is that I don’t think you can judge someone like that. What if they’re straight?”

You took two of the heavier bags from him before placing them on the counter. “Well then I have more incentive to judge.” He rolled his eyes. “Would you go close the door?”

“You’re ruthless. Absolutely not,” he responded before doing exactly what you asked.

Eddie had been a big help, prepping for your Christmas party the following night as co-hosts. The decision on where to hold it was easy: your apartment was slightly bigger than his, not to mention Eddie was still figuring out how to decorate his new apartment.

Steve and Robin offered, but Eddie had been adamant that it was him and his Weirdo who would do the best job. The A-List guest list consisted of you two, Steve, Robin, Gareth, Grant, and Jeff. 

While you’d gone home to see your mom and sister for Thanksgiving, Eddie’s bandmates had surprised him with the news that they were officially planning to move to Atlanta after college graduation in May. Thus, you'd been left to your own devices until now.

Eddie had made the first few weeks of December as festive as possible, surprising you with peppermint hot chocolates and the worst Christmas movies you’d ever seen. You’d begged him for a classic, like Elf or It’s a Wonderful Life, but he’d strategically saved those for the week of Christmas itself. 

Without any explanation, Eddie pulled something out of his tote bag. It was a small box, wrapped in red and white striped wrapping paper with a ridiculously big bow on top.

You scowled at him. “Eddie. No.”

He grinned. “Yes.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

Shaking your head, you stated, “We said no presents.”

An overdramatically apologetic expression filled his face. “My fingers crossed unexpectedly when we said that.”

“That’s very convenient.”

“I thought so, too.”

He was insufferable.

You sighed, raising your hands. “Eddie, I can’t accept it.” Before you could think to move, he grabbed your hand and shoved it into your palm. “It’s already in your hand.”

Groaning, you conceded. “Fine! Fine.”

“Yes!” he exclaimed before shoving his hands behind his back, failing to hide his smile.

Rolling your eyes, you tore the paper and delved inside.

“It’s…oil,” you stated.

Eddie raised his pointer finger, catching your attention. “A very specific kind of oil. Delta-8.”

“Did you give me drugs for Christmas?” you asked.

“There’s no better time.” He wasn’t wrong. “Besides, you’re making that beer cheese and I thought it’d go great.”

“That’s perfect, actually,” you said seriously. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“You know, I have a secret.”

Pages ripped from your latest notebook rested in your pocket. Actually, they weren’t exactly restful. They felt quite restless, burning a hole in your pants and your mind. The ink clogged your throat, the words swirling together in your head, preventing any clarity from forming. 

“Which is?”

Here this guy was, your certified best friend standing beside you after a year and a half of silence. His presence in your life came with open arms and a struggle for pure vulnerability. You’d had your moments over the last seven months, what with your pasts coming up and all of the memories that felt like stories the moment they were shared. 

Give it to him, you thought. Come on, do it.

“I actually had all of my toes crossed when we said no presents,” you said finally, fingers reaching toward your back pocket. 

His eyebrows lifted. “That’s very convenient.”

“Yeah, I thought so, too.”

The pads of your fingertips grazed the paper gently before you reached around him to grab a tiny cardboard box resting on your kitchen table.

Coward.

“How did I not notice that?” he asked, taking it from you.

You shrugged. “I’m the master of disguise.”

“Clearly,” he muttered before opening the top of the box slowly. He made a show of it, closing one eye and trying to peer into the darkness. You giggled as soon as he saw what was inside.

“A joint, huh?” You nodded, biting your lip. “All for me?”

“All for you.”

He placed a hand on his chest, giving you a big smile. “That’s extremely heartfelt, sweetheart. Thank you.”

You tried to keep your smile from faltering, that note starting to singe your skin through the denim. 

Give it to him, you thought again. Do it. Do it now.

“Do you want some beer cheese?” you asked.

“Under one condition,” he said, holding up a finger. Your eyebrow quirked up. “You can’t down it like you did last time.”

You scoffed. “Oh, come on! That’s not fair!”

“Those are the rules, Weirdo.”

“Ugh,” you grumbled. “Fine. Come on.”

Eddie had been shocked when you picked him up. Your face was nearly bare, wearing neutral eye shadow fading into a charcoal gray with thin-winged eyeliner and maroon lipstick. It was the first time he’d seen you without eyes completely coated in darkness. 

It was startling.

You were dazzling.

Donning a black turtleneck, jeans, and combat boots, you flitted around your kitchen as you measured how much oil you’d pour into the cheese. 

And, okay. Eddie didn’t mean to look at your ass. Scouts honor. However, you bent down to grab a pot from your cabinet and he couldn’t help but look. He could admire how well your jeans fit you, couldn't he?

In the midst of his perusing, he noticed paper in your back right pocket. He found it curious. It couldn’t have been your grocery list—you’d used your Notes app for that. What were you hiding?

“When do the boys come in?” you asked.

Eddie blinked, tearing his eyes away just in time to meet yours. “Oh, the band?” You nodded before turning the burner on low. “Uh, yeah. They come in at nine-thirty tomorrow.”

“And you’re sure you wanna sleep over tonight?”

He shrugged. “Only if you want to.”

“We’ll see if I get sick of you by then.”

Eddie snorted before moving past you to grab some Pringles from your cabinet. “After my killer present? Nah, I don’t think so, sweetheart.”

“Don’t sweetheart me, mister,” you said playfully before gasping. He jumped back just in time as you thrusted a cheese-covered wooden spoon in his direction. “Damn, Eddie, get your own Pringles! Those are for the party!”

He moved to the back corner of the kitchen, quickly shoving a Pringle in his mouth. As he held the can like it was the Ark of the Covenant, he grinned at you before giving a chip a rather loud crunch.

“That fucking does it!” you exclaimed, leaping towards him.

The two of you fought to claim the Pringles can for yourselves. Eddie couldn’t help but giggle the entire time, loving each touch you shared, even if it was so you could hit him. 

He was grateful he’d met you. There was something extraordinary about the way you fell into each other, effortless in nature. The hesitation you once held with one another had dethawed, replaced with a promise that you’d catch each other when you fell. Even now, after you nearly slipped onto the floor.

Eddie caught you, arm scooping under your waist just in time before your head met the tile.

Maybe there was a time and a place to say how he felt. Maybe it could be today or tomorrow after the party. Christmas morning or New Year’s Eve. But when he gazed into your bewildered eyes, he reflected on everything you’d opened up to him about over the last seven months. The pain, the betrayal. You needed a friend, not another messy situation that would ultimately hurt you. 

So, for now, he focused on the here and now. And by the end of the night, he’d solve the case of the mysterious note.

The south didn’t do snow. 

It was a made up concept, some nearly forgotten folklore created when a hint of ice formed along mountainsides and frozen faucets. When it came to winter, the grass resembled wheat and the spindly trees towered above the cities. 

And there you were with Eddie, out on your tiny balcony as you had your nightly cigarette and waited for spiked cheese to kick in.

Eddie had been rambling about a few lines of his latest song that he couldn’t quite make right, needing a better word than beaming that still held two syllables.

You’d stared out at the street, but something happened the moment you looked back at him. He was leaning against the railing, going back and forth from placing his unlit cigarette between his teeth and removing it so he could talk. Your gaze fell to his lips, watching his constant back and forth.

For a moment, perhaps in a trick of the light, an image flashed in your mind. Eddie on his knees, hands curling around your thick thighs, smirking up at you with a look of mischief. His eyes, alight with darkness that swirled into something magnificent before dipping his head under your skirt and pressing a kiss against your— 

Then it was gone, replaced with Eddie’s final attempt to put the cigarette between his teeth and light the damn thing. The second he let out his first wave of smoke, you felt your breath hitch in your throat.

Because you were starting to think about his mouth around something else.

“Flaring?” he pondered, taking another thoughtful drag. 

The chill of forty degree weather did nothing to stop the fire rushing to your core. His unoccupied hand bounced along the railing as he thought. There was a crude kind of desire in you to grab it and place it against the ache, relieving the tension that was starting to twist inside you.

“Flooding?” 

The wetness sat in your underwear, diabolically abandoned by the man in front of you who continued rambling on. The wind rustled his hair, sending wisps into his mouth that he had to pull away. Why weren’t your fingers tugging at the strands, claiming his lips with your own?

Your impulse control felt, well, out of control. 

“Surging?”

The racing of your heart was made worse the harder you pulled on that cigarette, the clouds you created only growing. But there was an emotion billowing in that smoke, signaling to you that something had shifted.

You had shifted, as quickly as the season. 

Seven months. Three seasons.

Not nearly enough time to catch your bearings or build a stable foundation. However, you were starting to notice more and more that there was something else hiding behind every sleepover and good morning text. 

This was an awakening.

An awakening that was surely going to ruin everything.

But when he asked what you thought of blazing instead of beaming, your heart fluttered and you answered without hesitation, “It’s perfect.”

Eddie watched with amusement as you floundered over the kitchen table like a fish, definitely feeling the effects of the beer cheese. You were starting to look like an inflatable balloon man on his final wave.

“We…” you trailed, holding up your pointer finger. “Weeee need to put up decorations.”

He laughed, leaning over to boop you on the nose. “Yooou need a timeout, Weirdo.”

You let out a sound resembling a growl. “Noooo.”

“Did you just growl at me?” he asked.

Shrugging, you poked him repeatedly before letting out another growl. “Bark, bark,” you said, lowering the pitch of your voice. “Hiss, hiss.”

“You’re fucked, sweetheart,” he commented, grabbing your finger and placing it back on the table.

Your eyes widened slightly before you snorted and waved your hand around. “Get your head out of the gutter, Munson.”

Before he could respond, your fingers were moving back to him, snatching his hand and holding it firmly. Seemingly without thought, you brought it up to your mouth and pretended to bite him. Eddie tried to yank it back, but you were surprisingly strong, lips hovering over his skin.

In a quick flicker, Eddie found himself lost in an image of your teeth clamping down on his throat, wrists caught in your grasp as you pinned him to your bed. You, grinding your hips against his in a frenzy, chasing friction as he bucked in an attempt to reach the same release. 

What he wouldn’t give for you to draw blood.

“Oh, so now you’re a vampire?” he asked with a cough, trying not to let the pink meet his cheeks. Or his poor dick.  

Without a word, you gave him a smirk and bit him.

Eddie jumped with a yelp, almost knocking his chair over if it hadn’t been for your death grip.

You let out one of the loudest guffaws he’d ever heard, warming his heart as he settled back into his wobbly chair. He couldn’t help but laugh along, but he unfortunately couldn’t keep his cock from getting hard.

What was it about you that drove him fucking insane?

“You’re so easy to freak out,” you said with a toothy smile, running your thumb over the bite mark you’d left behind.

Or just easy to turn on, he thought.

In the minutes that passed, you sat in silence, mutually gentle as you enjoyed your shared high. He studied your mark on him, the curve of each individual tooth imprinted on the skin between his thumb and pointer finger. If only he could keep it from returning to normal. 

If only he could tell you how he felt.

“You’re holding my hand,” he observed quietly.

“Oh! Sorry,” you replied softly. But you didn’t release your grasp.

Eddie chuckled, face growing hot as he tried his hand at bravery. “You’re all good. It’s cute.”

“Cute?” you asked, lifting your head from the table. 

He shrugged. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

“I like your hand. It’s warm,” you mumbled. Your tracing became languid, slow and gentle.

“Yeah?” His breath was starting to go ragged, entirely blown away by your forward nature. Of course, he knew it was because of the weed. That’s all it was to you. But, to him, it meant everything. He never wanted you to stop.

You nodded. “Yeah. It feels really nice. Softer than I expected.”

Then a thought bloomed.

“Can I ask you a very stupid question?”

“Always.”

The knuckles on his unoccupied hand drummed against the table as he asked, “What’s in your back pocket?”

Your head snapped up. “Eddie…”

“Is it bad?” You avoided his gaze. “You’re making it sound like a ransom note or nuclear codes.”

“No, that’s not…” you trailed before sighing. “That’s not it.”

Eddie watched as you deflated, shoulders hunching forward. What was going on?

“Then what is it?”

You barely gave him a glance before averting your gaze again. “I wrote you a note but I’m too scared to give it to you.”

“Why?”

“It’s cheesy.” Your hand retreated from his, leaving his palm to freeze instantly. “But sometimes if I’m not sure what to do for presents, I like to write notes. It’s just, after a while, I decided not to give it to you.”

“You could read it to me.”

Scoffing, your tone grew sarcastic. “Read it? Right. Sure.”

“Come on, Weirdo.” You bit your lip. “Do it for the spirit of Christmas.”

“Absolutely not.”

“If not for Santa, then for me.”

That’s when he finally found your eyes, pooling with indecision. 

Without a word, you stood up and pulled the paper out of your back pocket.

“Eddie,” you started, sending flutters to his chest immediately. “I know that we haven’t been friends for a year yet, but you’re probably the best friend I’ve ever had.” He watched you take a deep breath, desperate to see what was settling in your eyes. “I don’t say this to put pressure on you, but to tell you that your…” another deep breath, “friendship has changed my life.”

Your glossy eyes lifted. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I can’t finish this,” you replied. 

Eddie felt his heart crumble the second you crushed the paper between your fingers. He jumped up immediately, quick to try and grab the note. 

“Hey, don’t do that,” he whispered, shaking his head. You took a step back, mirroring his action. “Come on, it’s not stupid. I wanna know what else you have to say.”

“It’s cheesy.”

“It’s genuine.”

He went to take it again, but you moved your hand away.

“It’s unoriginal.”

“It’s authentic.”

One more attempt at snagging the note resulted in you taking three steps back. “I hate Christmas,” you whispered. Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie found your hands shaking. “I can’t control the passage of time and whether you’re going to be here next year or not. What if I give this to you and then in six months you realize how stupid I am and you just go?”

He said your name gently, but you shook your head.

“I can see it now, you know? You’ll find the note lodged in some pocket somewhere and wonder how it got there. And you’ll be so livid that you’ll go and set it on fire and light your cigarette with the flame.”

Before you could continue your dark forebodings, Eddie fingers wrapped around your trembling, tight-knuckled fist. The contact set him ablaze as he felt the tension build. Here you two were, connected by a bittersweet tug of war.

“Hey,” he whispered, trying to keep his voice steady. But how could he? You were searching his eyes, crestfallen and confused. He could say the same for himself. “I know it sucks to open up to people you don’t know are gonna stay.”

He heard the catch in your breath before tears fell down your cheeks.

“I’m here to stay,” he said, more confident now. “You’re not sick of me yet, are you?”

You suddenly chuckled, shaking your head as you wiped your tears away. “Anything but.”

“Then there’s nothing to worry about, okay?” You nodded, tucking your crimson lips inward, disappearing into your mouth as if you were ridding yourself of speech for his sake. “Let this Christmas be this Christmas.”

“Okay.”

“And then we’ll get super cross-faded tomorrow night and then we’ll get cross-faded on New Year’s—” A watery laugh rippled through you, piercing the air and his heart. Finally, his favorite sound. “Then we’ll just keep going and figure shit out along the way. Sound cool?”

“Yeah. Sounds cool.”

Eddie didn’t know what to do next, refusing to think before he enveloped you in a tight hug. Your arms quickly squeezed him back, exchanging heartbeats under thick sweaters.

“You know what?” Eddie asked, resting his chin on your head. “I think you’ve earned a good holiday movie.”

“Which is?” you asked, voice muffled in his shirt.

The edges of Eddie’s lips quirked up as he said, “When Harry Met Sally.”

[piplup335]

Subspace x reader! (angst lmao)

HELLO , F E L L A S

I know I said I’d work on requests, but I HAD to finish this up 😭

mainly because SOMEONE (I’M LOOKING AT YA, @sourle) decided to write Valk angst and I decided I’d probably hop on the bandwagon and write Subspace angst :D

this is my first time writing angst, so idk if it’s good ;-; ehhh, I did what I could LMAO

anyway, enjoy :D

honourable mentions here!

@subspacekisser1

@lunarwashere

@sourle

-

The crackling of the flames in the fireplace soothed your mind as you snuggled up to Subspace.

"Long day today, Subspace? How's work at the lab?"

The masked scientist glanced up at you with a groggy expression.

"Hm?? Oh...not too bad..."

He yawned.

"...just the usual lab stuff. There was also this chemical that somehow melted through the vial today...just a poison I'm working on currently. Reacted with another reagent and nearly burnt down the lab. It smelt funny too...but hey, the Biografts helped me clean it up!!"

You couldn't see it through his mask, but judging by his one visible eye closing and his cheekbones raising, you could tell he was smiling.

"I love you, (Y/n)...I feel so tired right now..."

"Awww...I love you too, Subspace...tomorrow's Christmas...wanna go to that one cat cafe? So you can catch a break?"

Subspace nuzzled into the crook of your neck. his warm breath lightly tickling your collarbone.

"I'd love that, dear..."

Subspace fell asleep in your arms as you lay on the couch, watching the flames dance around the firewood, the bright, formless shapes slowly reducing the wooden sticks to nothing but ashes.

The crackling of the flames and their mesmerising movements distracted you from the fact that your boyfriend was barely breathing.

The following morning, you woke up to your boyfriend still lying beside you.

He looked so damn adorable to you. His one visible eye was closed, and a few strands of his soft hair fell over his face. Sometimes you wished you could remove his gas mask just to caress his cheek…but he told you before not to do it, and you wanted to respect his wishes.

You gave your boyfriend a loving kiss on the forehead as you slowly slid off the couch, careful not to wake him up.

“Merry Christmas, love.”

You walked into the kitchen so that you could start preparing breakfast for the two of you.

Subspace couldn’t taste anything and always insisted on eating whatever was available, but you decided to change that today. You woke up earlier than him, and this time you'd get a say as to what he would eat.

And this time, you were determined to make him something a little more filling instead of just a slice of bread or two. You wanted to make him eggs and bacon- a dish he absolutely loved eating before the entire lab incident.

During those days, when you were cooking breakfast, Subspace would look at you with those pleading puppy eyes to make him bacon and eggs, completely disregarding and ignoring whatever alternatives you offered.

And you being you, you couldn’t resist his cute expression.

It was unlike him to enjoy such a simple dish, but hey- you still loved him.

As you were cooking in the kitchen, you felt a tug on your sleeve.

You turned to your left and was met with the sight of your beloved boyfriend standing next to you.

“Darling? Can we not have pancakes today? Do we have any more eggs left?”

You laughed, amused at his groggy, half-asleep expression.

“Subspace, you’ve been eating that same old thing for a week now. When will you ever get sick of it?”

“…never…so are there any eggs left?”

“Probably. But could you try something else for a change?"

Subspace hugged your side, his actions sluggish in his given state.

"I don't wanna...please, babe?"

He looked at you with those loving eyes...that loving expression on his face you could never resist.

You sighed, admitting defeat.

"Fine, fine, I’ll go prepare it for you later…I love you, Subspace. I always will.”

You couldn't say no to his request. To others, Subspace was a renowned scientist who made multiple contributions to Blackrock. They saw him as someone who had helped Blackrock advance their military, someone who had helped multiple residents improve their lives for the better. He was a hardened scientist who pushed through many sleepless nights to make Blackrock a slightly better place than the day before.

To you, Subspace was just an adorable bean you would not hesitate to kill for.

Your boyfriend was too adorable, too precious for this world...and you couldn't help but wrap your arms around his figure in a hug.

"I love you, Subspace..."

Subspace didn't reply, but his actions said it all. You felt his arms slowly move from his side to wrap around your waist.

“…I love you too, babe…what’s that smell?”

A glance at the stove and the steady flow of smoke was all it took for you to get your answer.

“NO- my pancakes!”

You recalled the memory with such fondness. Even after the laboratory disaster your boyfriend went through, he was still the same loving demon you knew. Sure, he acted like a crazed scientist sometimes, but you knew your boyfriend was still the same sweetheart you knew all those years ago.

You spent more than an hour trying to make breakfast...because you spent 45 minutes looking back on and reminiscing about the past.

As you set the last piece of bacon on the plate, you smiled to yourself.

"Honey? Breakfast's ready!"

Usually, when you made breakfast for him, he'd immediately come rushing to the kitchen just to scarf down whatever you prepared for him with his signature grin on his face.

But just like you had different plans for Subspace, fate had different plans for the two of you.

This time, there wasn't a single sound coming from the living room. The fire was extinguished right before you fell asleep, but you wished the therapeutic crackling of the flames followed you into the early hours of the morning for a bit of comfort.

"Honey?"

Still no response. Now you were concerned.

Was he okay?

You, being the concerned girlfriend you were, went outside to check on him.

You shook him.

"Subspace? Please...wake up!"

You half-expected him to jump at you with that big, goofy grin on his face that you loved seeing so much. You expected to jump backwards in fright from the scare, only for Subspace to catch you in his arms as he pressed his lips to yours in a tender kiss.

But that moment never came. Upon further inspection, you mentally facepalmed at your ignorance, cursing at yourself for not seeing the signs that something was wrong.

The once hot pink crystal floating above Subspace was nothing more but a dull pink, most of the colour gone. The once gleaming radiance of the crystal was now nothing but a dull glow.

You immediately checked his pulse. It was there...but barely. You sprinted to your phone, nearly tripping over your own feet in a frenzied panic. A quick dial later, you were arranging for an ambulance to the nearest hospital.

All you could do then was simply cradle your boyfriend's near-lifeless body in your arms and pray to whichever deity would listen.

Beep...beep...beep...

The steady sound of the hospital monitors filled the room. It had been like that for the past few hours or so.

When the doctors in the ambulance did a more thorough check on him, they determined that Subspace needed emergency surgery. You were not sure why, but they said that it was due to "severe poisoning".

Now, here you were, seated on a chair next to your still-unconscious boyfriend, waiting for the doctors to return with whatever results they had to offer. You sat in your chair, glancing at your boyfriend from time to time, hoping that the crystal between his horns would shine bright like it once did.

The sound of the door opening pulled you out of your thoughts. One of the doctors walked into the room...and he had a grim expression on his face.

"Doctor! How is he?"

The doctor let out a sigh. One that carried not hopes for the future, but carried acceptance- a sign that they had tried everything, and yet...

"I'm sorry. Your beloved will not make it."

And that was the nail in the coffin for you- the statement that confirmed your worst fears.

"Can I say goodbye to him, at least? Will he wake up?"

"No. He won't wake up. We've done a thorough and complete checkup on him. His given condition- his rot, that is, somehow reacted with more fumes inside his body. We've investigated them, and it seems that these fumes were inhaled quite recently. Regardless, it has worsened his state, causing the majority of his body to either shut down or stop working entirely. You have two choices. He does not have any known family members, so we'll leave this decision to you."

At the doctor's next words, you did not want to say anything. You did not want to accept that this was your reality- these were two decisions that you could not choose between. You knew that none of these choices would be a correct decision...they would all have harsh downsides.

"Either we pull the plug now and he dies a peaceful death, or we can give him further treatment to try and save him. The chances of his survival from this point on are low, and even if he does survive and wake up, the rest of his life will likely be painful for him to endure."

You loved Subspace...you loved him so much, and you didn't want to let him go just yet. There was so much you wanted to do with him. You wanted to finally stay with him instead of one of you just staying over at the other’s house for sleepovers now and then. You wanted to travel the Inpherno with him, just to see all the marvels the world had to offer. You wanted to be by his side for the rest of your life and wake up by his side just to hug him close to you, praising the gods for such a wonderful spouse.

And now you couldn't. Not with Subspace's condition.

You didn't want to let him go just yet.

But then again, you loved him. You wanted the best for him.

And the best route for him to go down wasn’t one where he’d be suffering for the rest of his life.

You wanted him to live happily, not live in constant pain.

You knew your decision.

December 31. Almost a week after you made your decision.

Snowflakes fell from the sky outside, coating the ground in a layer of snow.

Within the comfort of your house, the flames crackled in the fireplace, consuming everything it touched.

But even the mesmerising movements of the flames couldn’t distract you from your thoughts. Not after what happened.

Beep…

That final, high-pitched sound. That damn, cursed sound. You knew that single beep would haunt you for years to come. What you did was for your boyfriend’s sake, but at what cost?

“5…4…3…2…1…HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!”

You could hear the cheers of Blackrock’s residents from your home as fireworks were launched into the air, painting the black canvas of the sky with bursts of vibrant colour.

“Happy New Year, Subspace…”

A tear trickled down your cheek as you hugged a small photo frame to your chest.

It was the last photo you had of Subspace. A photo you took with him one day before his death.

“…I’ll always love you.”

-

aaaaand that’s another story down! hope u guys enjoyed! :D

…

*runs*

[deeplyshalllow]

Hi,

I absolutely love your posts on Fiyeraba scenes in the Wicked movie! I wanted to ask and this is just a thought I had but do you think Fiyero heals Elphaba with his acceptance of her appearance and as a person, because her major trauma stems from her father's rejection at her birth cause you hear "take it away" at many points throughout pivotal moments. Now that I think about it, her friendship with Glinda could be represented as a version of Elphaba's dynamic with Nessa where the sisters love each other but Nessa never protects Elphaba the way she does.

What are your thoughts on this?

Keep up the great content!!! 😃

Firstly, I am so sorry it's taken me this long to reply! It's been on my to do list all week but Pre Christmas and work and the need to also write a 3500 word essay on the Lion Cub scene, has made it hard for me to find the time to write a proper answer.

Short answer: I agree.

Long answer: I think Elphaba is hugely damaged by the way her father treats her. I think she has been othered all her life, including by the people who should love her and she so desperately loves. And a lot of this presents itself both in doing anything for them, even when it personally hurts her, and almost deliberately making sure everyone else sees her as a person as "ugly" as her green skin. Because, if she does that, she doesn't end up finding other people whom she loves who don't love her back or betray her, as she says in the Lion Cub scene, she sees it as an issue that she "cares so much".

There's actually three people at Shiz who really challenge Elphaba's view of the world.

Firstly, Doctor Dillamond, who shows her kindness and also regards her as a friend. But it is important to note that he is also othered, Elphaba's fight for the Animals is to some degree because she sees herself in them, she wants them to be able to fit in in a way she never has had. She empathises and her bond with Doctor Dillamond is stronger because they both share similar problems.

Galinda and Fiyero are the first, I think, to get Elphaba out of her shell. They are the ones who love her for who she is, nothing to do with her green skin, and yes, I do think it's healing. She's let down her mask of defensiveness and discovered that people do like her for what's underneath! There is a moment in the movie, when everyone is cheering Elphaba off at the train station where I thought "ok, they could just end the story here and it's the most heartwarming, happy ending for Elphaba" and obviously it's tragic that this is never to be.

Interestingly, I think Elphaba initially regards Morrible and the Wizard as people who see her for who she is too. Morrible because she's very motherly and values Elphaba when she wants to use her for her power (especially in the movie), and the Wizard because Elphaba has grown up believing him in an almost God like way - being so sure he will understand and know best. So that it is ultimately them that betray her hits her very hard.

Which leads to Defying Gravity and Act 2. Where, unfortunately, a lot of this healing for Elphaba is reversed. She's betrayed by Morrible, the Wizard (and to an extent Glinda) when she's condemned as a Wicked Witch, people still judge her for the colour of her skin. She does fight to do what is right, but she does it while sacrificing herself, what she wants, who she loves, what will make her happy - what she had been doing her entire pre Shiz years for Nessa.

There are so many heartbreaking lines in act two where we see how hurt Elphaba is by losing people she trusted or cared about:

"Boq, it's just me, I'm not going to hurt you!"

"Nessa, I have done everything I could for you but it has never been enough and it never will be"

"Don't you think I wish I could? That I could go back to the time when I believed you really were wonderful? The Wonderful Wizard of Oz? Nobody believed in you more than I did."

"Fiyero, not you too," (though obviously this one gets very quickly resolved)

"I can't believe you would sink this low! To use my sister's death as a trap to capture me?!"

So, when we get to As Long As You're Mine, and the scene afterwards, I think Fiyero does attempt heal her, and I do think it does good, but there's also this line:

Elphaba: I wish I could be beautiful... for you. Fiyero: Elphaba... Elphaba: Don't tell me that I am, you don't need to lie to me.

Elphaba's wounds cut deep. And, if I'm honest, I'm not sure she's ever going to be fully healed.

I do think the end of the show, Elphaba passing the task of helping Oz onto Glinda, of being able to go with Fiyero and live a life for themselves is a way to heal. She's given so much of herself to her cause, because she doesn't really value herself as a person, Fiyero - who loves her for who she is and will do anything for her including laying down his life, lets her finally do something for herself that makes her happy. And likewise Glinda, though she doesn't necessarily know it, carrying on her legacy, means Elphaba no longer has to worry about leaving the fight - she knows Oz is in safe hands.

Through the two people she loved the most, by the finale Elphaba might finally be able to heal.

Also, as I have nowhere else to put it: I think her father's treatment of Nessa also fucks Nessa up. I know they're going to change it for the movie, as it's seen as ablest (and I don't want to say it's not as I have a friend who literally has a Doctorate in disability history who sees it as ablest too) but I've always seen the fact that Nessa thinks her chair as a curse as an attitude driven by her father. Her father, in blaming Elphaba for Nessa's disability and coddling Nessa because of it, has always made Nessa feel like it's her defining trait and it's something wrong with her. This has led Nessa to both treat Elphaba as if she owes her something, but also believe her life would be perfect if she could walk - a belief that is brutally smashed in Act 2 when she is given the ability to walk.

[thezombieprostitute]

Tech Tuesday: Ransom Drysdale

A/N: Written for @the-slumberparty's December Daze Challenge.

Prompt: can i put my cold hands up your sweater for warmth?

Word Count: ~1.3k

Warnings: Alcohol consumption. Please let me know if I missed any!

Previous

The bar isn't as crowded as you'd feared. Usually you spend New Year's Eve in the comfort of your own home where no one can judge you for going to sleep at a decent time. But Ransom had insisted that going to a random bar full of strangers was his New Year's Eve tradition. You probably would have fought him a bit harder but you were still recovering from Christmas.

Ransom knew you were trying to reach out to your family again. That you'd hoped to make progress with them over Christmas. When you came back to the office the day after he saw through your fake smile. He's not pushing for details, part of being a good friend, right? But he can at least hang around so there's someone you can talk to if needed. He'd hoped that going to a bar and picking out potential kissers would be a good distraction for you.

At least until you confessed you'd never had a New Year's Eve kiss before.

"I've told you my parents were...fundamentalists," you griped. "There are some aspects of it that I'm not sure I'll ever be able to shake. Like kissing some random guy being a bad idea."

"Well, what if you get to know the guy first?" Ransom thinks. "Just don't lead with 'never had a New Year's Kiss'. That'll just bring out the weirdos."

That makes you half smile. "Yeah, definitely wouldn't want my first kiss to be with a stranger."

Ransom's brow furrows in confusion, "you mean first New Year's Eve kiss, right?"

"That too," you casually confess before taking a long sip of your Pretty In Pink cocktail.

Ransom gives you a look you can't decipher before saying, "maybe this was a mistake."

"No! It's a new year, it can be a new experience, another aspect of the old me that I let go."

"Only if you're certain now, before you've had too much to drink."

"Aren't you supposed to get drunk first? Liquid courage and all that?"

Ransom hesitates. It wasn't that long ago he'd be the first to encourage you to kiss whatever creep came along, just to spite your parents. Encourage you to be more like him, playing life like a game without consequences. But he's not that guy anymore. Right? At the very least, you're too good a person to be mimicking his behaviors.

He lets out an exasperated sigh, "no. You're telling me now, while you're sober and thinking relatively straight, if you really want to do this. Before you take another sip of that drink."

You give Ransom your best pout and you see him bristling. "I just wanna have some fun, Ran," you pout.

"Maybe this was a mistake," he shakes his head.

"No! You participated in my Friendsgiving tradition, I want to participate in one of your traditions! You said this is something you do every year and I want to participate!"

"We can spend the evening here, but we're gonna both forgo the kissing part," Ransom concedes. "We'll just get drunk and raise a toast at midnight, okay?"

You pout for real this time. "Why is it such a big deal? It's just a first kiss. Aren't women today supposed to be empowered to kiss whoever they want?"

Ransom considers his words. "You're right that you don't need permission to kiss anyone you want. I just...Something I've been trying to work on is reducing my family-induced cynicism. I know from experience that if you treat kisses like they're nothing, they can lose their meaning. I...I want better for you. Better for my friend."

Knowing how difficult it is for Ransom to talk about these things you stop pouting. "Okay," you nod. "Just a toast to bring in the new year."

"Thank you," he sighs, looking a bit more relaxed.

"How about we start the evening with a toast?" you offer, raising your glass. "A toast to friendship and new beginnings?"

Ransom raises his beer bottle, "and to not letting our past dictate our future."

You clink your drinks together and take a sip.

A couple hours and several drinks later you're feeling a little woozy. Ransom offers to go get the refills but you're adamant that it's your turn to do so. He's a bit tipsy himself, you've never seen him smile so much, and he agrees to let you go.

You give your order to the bartender and hold onto the bar to steady yourself when you feel a presence to your left. A tall man in a blue suit leans on the bar next to you. He's pretty handsome, even with the stubble. It actually works with his short hair. He turns to you and you struggle not to gasp at how pretty blue his eyes are.

"Oh, sorry if I'm crowding you," he smiles.

"No, not at all," you giggle.

"You here with your boyfriend?" he asks, gesturing to Ransom.

"Friend," you tell him.

His smile widens, "I'm Nick."

You give him your name as heat rushes to your face. This handsome man is talking with you!

"Got any plans for midnight? It's coming up in just an hour or so," Nick asks.

"A toast!" you say a little too loudly.

He gives you a mock frown, "no kiss?"

"No kisses! Just a toast. Ransom's idea."

"Ransom your friend?"

"Yup! And he's great! Once you get to know him."

"Yeah? Would you be up for introducing me? Letting me get to know him?"

"Sure! He could use more friends and you seem the friendly type!"

"That I am," he smirks.

The bartender brings you your drinks and you pay for them before making your way back to Ransom. Nick is very helpful at keeping you steady on your feet.

Back at the table you beam at Ransom, "I made a new friend! His name is Nick."

Nick holds out his hand to Ransom and says, "nice to meet you Hugh."

Ransom's smile is gone and whatever buzz he'd been feeling is greatly diminished. He grabs your hand, "we're going. Now."

"What? Why?" you pout. But Ransom gives you a look that pierces your drunken haze enough that you're grabbing your coat to go with him.

Ransom's jaw is clenched and he's practically dragging you out of the bar. Risking a glance back at Nick you see him smiling smugly, making you feel even more confused.

Once outside Ransom takes a breath of the cold air to steady himself. The plan was to walk back to your place since it was so close to the bar but now he's not sure. What if that asshole follows and makes things worse for you?

"C'mon," he tells you, taking your arm. "We're going to catch a cab back to my place."

"I don't like your place," you drunkenly confess. "It's so bare."

"Well then I'll make sure to get some interior decorating advice from you while we're there tonight, okay?"

You giggle at the thought but then you shiver, "Ransom, it's cold out here and I don't have my gloves."

"We're going to get a cab soon enough," he promises as he walks down the sidewalk, pulling you along with him.

"What's gotten into you? Oh, why did Nick call you Hugh? Is that what set you off?"

"Sort of," he grunts, looking everywhere for a cab. He doesn't want to use a Lyft or Uber in case this Nick character decides to share in on it.

"My hands are cold," you whine. "Can i put my cold hands up your sweater for warmth?"

"When we get into the cab, sure."

You giggle, "I'm gonna hold you to that."

Ransom's barely gotten you into the back of the cab before you shove your hands underneath his sweater, making him yipe.

"Mmm, so warm. You gently squeeze his belly and snuggle close. "Even better than a plushie," you murmur as you start to fall asleep.

Ransom half carries you into his apartment and you give a little squeal when you see the Sweater Pusheen you'd gotten him sitting in a chair.

"You kept it?"

"Of course I did," Ransom admits. "Makes for good company."

You start to tear up, "I thought you hated it because I never saw it after I gave it to you."

"It's a nice gift and I like to have it around. Kept me from getting too lonely at Christmas."

You wrap your arms around Ransom with such force he falls back onto the couch. He tries to unclasp your arms from around him but you're holding tight so he waits for a few moments, letting you get the hug out of your system. Normally you ask permission but he's not going to begrudge you being a happy drunk.

He chuckles and rolls his eyes when he hears your soft snoring and resigns himself to a night on the couch. He looks at you softly and kisses the top of your head. There are worse ways to bring in the new year, he figures.

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