#When all the christmas parties are over and i could finally have some peace

[breathings]

Being the childless introvert in the friends group and having to go to yet another baby shower really is a punishment for me. I'm in a group of 9 friends and now they're starting with round two of getting babies and everyone needs their own party organised. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for each one of them but it's a combination of all the things I dread the most as an introvert

being in a whatsapp group with multiple people that keep posting stuff and that you have to keep up with

having to organise a party and a present while having to dodge the bullet of being chosen to be the one who hosts the party at my home

having to attend a party full of people that all have something in common that you neither know anything about nor have a lot of interest in (everyone talking about kids and diapers and me just being there like 🤷🏻‍♀️)

embarrassing party games

Of all the things that came to my country from the USA, this is my least favorite one.

Don't tell me these are first world problems because I know. And I'm doing my best every single time. But even though the social anxiety I used to have hasn't been bothering me as much as when I was younger and I don't get panic attacks anymore, it just never gets easy.

[loulou-land]

"Mistle-Nope (But Maybe Yes)”

🎄 My bucktommy Christmas fic is here! Story time: I was bored last week at work and scrolling through insta when I came across this post. I immediately thought "Ah yes! that's Bucktommy and Eddie” lol. And so, this story was born 😂 I hope you all enjoy it! I loved writing it (even if I struggled with it at times). 🎄

Gen | 3.1K words | bucktommy | Post-Break Up, Getting Back Together, Crack Treated Seriously, Multi-POV, Mistletoe Shenanigans

read on ao3 or below the cut

This year’s Christmas party was taking place at Bobby and Athena’s new house. They’d wanted to celebrate the start of this new chapter in their lives, and inviting everyone over for Christmas dinner seemed like the perfect time. As a result, they went all out with the decorations. Warm lights draped across every available surface, and a tall tree, decked out in ornaments that looked like they came straight out of a catalog, took over a large part of the living room. A drink station in the room’s corner featured wine, warm apple cider, and hot chocolate. From the kitchen wafted the unmistakable scent of various baked goods–apple pie, red velvet cake, gingerbread and sugar cookies–completely overtaking the orange glazed ham that Bobby had prepared. And sprigs of mistletoe hung above all the doorways. 

The 118, along with their partners and children, spread out through the house, and while the general mood was festive, there was a particular sense of tension coming from two of their guests. 

Buck stood by the kitchen counter, focusing intently on finishing the decorative touches on the sugar cookies, glancing up now and then surreptitiously across the room. By the drinks station stood Tommy, swirling his wine and staring into his glass as if it held the answers to all his life’s problems.   

If anyone asked, Buck was fine. Totally fine. When Bobby had approached him about inviting Tommy to the Christmas party, he’d only hesitated for a moment. He could handle any awkwardness that might arise between them–after all, they’d already crossed paths during a few calls. And despite the hurt Buck sometimes still felt, he didn't want Tommy to spend Christmas alone. If he’d gone a little overboard with the baking at the thought of spending the holiday with the man who’d broken his heart– well that was entirely Buck’s business. Bobby and Athena had gotten a delicious spread of desserts, so they knew not to bring up the subject to him. Although they kept sending concerned glances his way when they thought he wasn't looking.  

There was one thing Buck hadn't counted on, however. That was, how overwhelmed he'd feel, suddenly being so much closer to Tommy than he'd had the chance to be in months. He thought he had finally made his peace with the breakup, had stopped wondering why, and had tried to move on. But being here together like this–it only reminded him that what they'd had between them still felt unfinished, lingering like an itch he couldn't scratch. 

Unfortunately for Buck, everyone else at the party had noticed too. 

———————————————————

“They’re killing me,” Hen muttered from her spot by the fireplace. 

“Excruciating,” Chimney agreed, reaching to steal a cookie off the dessert tray atop the coffee table. “Did you see that? Tommy glanced over at Buck four times in the last minute. And Buck’s looked back twice.” 

Hen snorted, giving him an incredulous look. “You’re counting their glances?” 

Chimney shrugged. “What? I’m a details guy. Also, it’s driving me crazy.” 

Hen raised her eyebrow. “You’re the one who absolutely insisted he needed to be invited. How’d you get Bobby to do it anyways?” 

“I have my ways,” he said, looking around shiftily. “And, I thought it’d help!” Chimney said defensively. “You know, finally getting them together in one place, no emergencies or other duties as an excuse. I thought they'd finally get to talking.” He shrugged, “Maybe spark some reconciliation. Come on! They belong together.” 

“Mhm. And how’s that working out for you?” 

Chimney groaned, rubbing his face. “It’s like watching the world’s most bizarre mating dance, they keep fluffing their feathers at each other and then running in the opposite direction” 

“You two are ridiculous,” Eddie muttered, finally joining the conversation. 

“Oh, we’re ridiculous?” Chimney scoffed. “Eddie, you’ve been staring at them like they’re the main couple in your favorite Telenovela.” 

Eddie didn't deny it. He had also noticed how Buck and Tommy’s eyes kept gravitating towards each other. How Buck would go over to refill his drink, brushing up against Tommy in the process. And how Tommy would look like he wanted to say something, but always stopped himself at the last second. Looking at them, it was obvious how much they still cared for one another, the problem was–neither of them would make the first move to fix it. 

“They’re idiots,” Eddie muttered. Buck was like a brother and Tommy was a really good friend, which is why it made this whole situation frustrating. The two of them needed to get their heads out of their asses and just talk to each other. Being apart clearly wasn't working for them. Buck still had his crazy baking binges whenever he particularly missed Tommy. And Tommy–well he kicked Eddie's ass onto the Muay Thai mats one too many times. They needed to mend this before his body was taken out of commission. Death by baked goods or combat sports, he shuddered at the thought. He was really starting to regret keeping Buck from texting Tommy a month ago. 

“Big, lovable idiots,” Hen agreed. “So what are we gonna do about it?” 

Chimney grinned, reaching into his pocket to reveal a small sprig of mistletoe. “I brought reinforcements.” 

Eddie frowned. “Seriously? How is that going to help” 

“Oh come on,” Chimney said, moving the mistletoe in his hand. “It’s Christmas. A little mistletoe magic never hurt anybody.”

Hen folded her arms. “I think your plan’s in trouble already. Buck’s been avoiding every doorway like it’s a hazard zone.” 

“And Tommy’s all but taken residence in front of that drink station. Plus I think he’d just leave if he figured out what we were up to.” Chimney sighed disappointingly.

Eddie groaned, watching as Buck and Tommy, still on opposite sides of the room, once again glanced at each other when they thought no one was looking. It was infuriating. 

“You know what?” Eddie said, standing up straighter. “Give me that thing.”

Chimney blinked in confusion. “What?” 

“The mistletoe.” Eddie snatched it from Chimney’s hand. 

Hen raised an eyebrow. “What’s your plan?” 

Eddie scowled. “I don’t have one. I’m improvising.”  ———————————————————

At the kitchen island, Buck was cutting the apple pie and setting the pieces onto plates when he sensed someone approaching. He glanced up–and there was Tommy, trying to stealthily grab a piece of cake. 

“Uh, hey,” Tommy said sheepishly, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that special way of his.  

Buck froze in panic for half a second before schooling his expression into something neutral. “H–Hey”

The air between them was awkward–slightly charged with an undercurrent of tension and things left unsaid. Buck didn’t know how to shake the feeling. 

“You having fun?” Tommy asked. 

“Uh y–yeah, definitely,”Buck lied, nodding like a bobble head. Jeez, pull yourself together, he thought. “Great party, Lots of, uh, desserts!” 

Tommy gave him a look, and Buck hated that Tommy could still see through him so easily. 

“Good, I’m glad,” Tommy replied, voice a little tight. 

Before Buck could continue blabbing and making a fool of himself, Eddie appeared out of nowhere, looking far too determined for Buck’s comfort. 

“Alright,” Eddie said, interrupting whatever awkward moment the two were having. Eddie was happy they were finally talking, but he was on a mission now. 

Both Buck and Tommy blinked at him in confusion. 

“Eddie,” Buck  started, “what–”

Eddie raised his arm, holding up the sprig of mistletoe like it was a declaration of war. “You’re under it.” 

Tommy squinted, “What?” 

“You’re under the mistletoe," Eddie repeated, deadpan. 

“You’re holding it,” Tommy frowned. 

“It doesn't matter,” Eddie said stubbornly, slightly shaking the mistletoe over them. “Still counts.” 

Buck scoffed at him. “That’s not how mistletoe works, man. And you can’t just go holding it up above people's heads, it’s–”

“Shut up and kiss,” Eddie cut in, face blank and his voice completely flat. 

Tommy turned to Buck, his expression torn between amusement and disbelief. “Is he serious right now?” 

Eddie, once again wiggled the mistletoe above their heads. “Yes, now kiss.”  

For a moment, neither of them moved. The room had gone so quiet, you could hear a pin drop—Hen and Chimney watched with barely restrained glee, Athena peeked out from the hallway, Bobby pretended he wasn't paying attention and Maddie was trying to sneakily record the moment. 

Buck huffed a small laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You know what? Fine.”

Tommy looked at him surprised. “Fine?” 

“Yeah, fine,” Buck repeated, turning to face him. His voice was quieter, softer when he added, “It’s Christmas, right?” He hated how desperate he sounded, how much he actually wanted to feel Tommy’s lips on his. One more time, even if—he never recovered from this again. 

Tommy’s brow furrowed. He looked like he wanted to argue, but something in Buck’s eyes made him stop. Instead, he took a deep breath and exhaled a quiet laugh. The butterflies in Buck’s stomach multiplied at the sound of it; he had really missed Tommy’s laugh.  

“Alright,” Tommy said, stepping closer. 

And then it happened. 

The kiss started tentatively—hesitant, careful—but somewhere between the first touch and the way Tommy’s thumb brushed under his chin, so reminiscent of their first kiss forever ago, it deepened. The room erupted in cheers and whistles, but Buck and Tommy didn’t seem to notice. Now that they’d had a taste of each other again, they had no plans of stopping anytime soon.   

———————————————————

The cheers had grown louder—Chimney was whooping like he’d just won the lottery, Karen and Hen were clapping and murmuring to each other, Athena was just shaking her head at the theatrics while Bobby looked on proudly, and Maddie looked entirely too satisfied with her phone.  

Eddie, meanwhile, stood frozen in place, mistletoe still held awkwardly over Buck and Tommy, staring at the unfolding scene in front of him. 

“O…okay,” he muttered under his breath. “That worked a little too well” 

Eddie admitted he hadn't thought farther than getting these two to face their feelings for each other. At most, he was expecting an awkward peck and them finally talking things out. He should’ve known better–this was Buck and Tommy, the two had been notorious for never being able to keep their hands off one another. 

He stood regretting all his life choices and wondering why he was still watching his best friends make out in front of him when suddenly–he heard one of them moan and that was it. “Nope, nu-uh.” 

He chucked the mistletoe behind him, ignoring Chim’s oof and weak protest. 

“Alright, mistletoe’s gone. Please, for the love of god and everyone's eyes tonight—get a room” Eddie pleaded. 

“Not one of ours,” Athena interjected dryly. 

That seemed to finally snap the couple back to reality, Tommy and Buck ended the kiss–both blushing and breathless, but staring at each other like they’d just discovered the meaning of life. 

The look between them lingered, something unspoken but heavy passing in the air–a shared understanding and quite possibly a first step towards fixing what had once been broken between them. 

“Want to get some fresh air?” Tommy softly asked Buck. 

“Ye…Yeah,” Buck answered happily, ducking his head shyly. 

Buck and Tommy turned to Eddie. They both beamed at him and excused themselves–Tommy setting his hand on Buck’s lower back and leading him outside. Eddie shook his head fondly, finally happy his friends had come together. Though he couldn’t quite believe he had to be the catalyst for it. 

“Nice Work, Cupid,” Chimney said, elbowing him. 

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie muttered, glaring at the mistletoe clutched in Chim’s hand. “Also, different Holiday” 

“It looks like you solved the problem,” Hen added.

“I just gently pushed things along. And now, I need a drink for my troubles,” Eddie said, already looking towards the drink station like the world’s thirstiest man.

“Oh, come on man,” Chimney said excitedly. “You know what you’ve just done?” he asked dramatically, clapping Eddie on the shoulder. “You’ve given us a Christmas miracle!” 

Eddie just rolled his eyes and walked away to get his drink. 

As he walked away, Chimney turned to Hen smirking. “I give them two weeks before they’re back together officially.” 

Athena, from the kitchen yelled “One week!” 

“Three days,” Bobby called out casually as he walked by with a tray of cookies. 

Hen snorted, shaking her head. “You all know they’re getting back together by the end of the night. But I’m always happy to take your money.”

———————————————————

Outside, the night was cool—the kind of December night in California where a light jacket was all you needed. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the trees lining the back of Bobby and Athena’s yard. Twinkling Christmas lights wrapped around the patio’s gazebo casting a warm light over them. 

Tommy and Evan stood side by side, the sound of laughter and soft music occasionally filtering through the partially closed glass doors behind them. 

Tommy had his arms crossed, feeling like it was the only thing keeping him steady. At his side, Evan rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at his feet, scuffing marks onto the concrete floor beneath him. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The sounds of the night filling the silence and space between them. 

Finally, Tommy broke that silence. “So…that just happened.” 

Evan let out a choked laugh, nodding. “Yeah. That definitely happened.” 

Tommy turned to him, his expression soft but hesitant. “I didn't think you’d actually do it.” 

Evan gave a small shrug, his voice quieter now. “Honestly, neither did I. But then Eddie started waving that stupid mistletoe, and I thought…why not? I mean, what’s one more heartbreak, right?” He tried to laugh it off, but it came out more bitter than he was expecting. 

Tommy’s face fell, and he took a small step closer. “Ev…Buck. Fuck, no—Evan,” he said imploringly. His stomach churned at the thought of Evan hurting, all because he had been a coward. 

“No, it’s fine,” Buck apologized quickly, shaking his head. “I’m okay. Really.” 

“Stop,” Tommy said, his voice firm but not harsh. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Evan.” 

Evan looked at him then, and the vulnerability in his eyes hit Tommy like a punch to the chest. “I don’t know how to do this, Tommy,” Evan admitted. “I don’t know how to stand here with you and act like everything’s okay when you were the one who left me. And yet, I still…” He swallowed hard, his voice trailing off一looking at Tommy slightly scared. 

Tommy felt like he couldn't breathe. He was terrified to ask, but he needed to know. “Yet you still what? He asked gently, stepping closer. 

“I still love you,” Evan finished, his voice barely audible. “And I don’t know how to stop. I’ve tried, Tommy. I promise, but…” 

Tommy’s heart twisted at the raw honesty in Evan’s voice. He reached out, tentatively, his hand hovering for a moment in the space between them, before resting it lightly on the side of Evan’s face. “You’re not the only one,” he said softly. 

Evan inhaled sharply and his eyes met Tommy’s, searching for any sign of deception, of hesitation. “What are you saying?” 

Tommy took a deep breath, his fingers twitching slightly on Evan’s face. “I’m saying I love you. I never stopped loving you. And I’ve spent every moment since I walked out of your loft that night trying to convince myself it was the right thing to do. That you’d be better off without me一”

“Tommy一, Evan tried to interrupt. 

Tommy kept talking, as though he didn't hear Evan. “But seeing you tonight…being near you again…”He shook his head, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s like I’ve been living without a heart all this time, and now, here with you一I can feel it beating again.” 

Evan stared at him, uncomprehendingly. “Then why did you leave, Tommy?” 

Tommy’s shoulders sagged under the weight of the question. “That night, when you asked me to move in, I was terrified. I felt like I’d fooled you into thinking I was this amazing guy, and if I let it go on…I’d keep trying to be someone I wasn’t. Or you’d eventually see the real me一a broken and lonely man with a lot of baggage—and eventually you’d realize you’d made a mistake. I didn’t know which one would be worse. I had been hurt so many times before, I couldn't let you break my heart. So I panicked and ran. And broke my own heart in the process.”  

For a moment, Evan didn't say anything, his eyes searching Tommy’s face. Tommy felt his heart clenching in fear at Evan deciding to leave. Then, slowly, Evan reached up and covered Tommy's hand with his own. “I’m sorry, I realized afterwards that I really blindsided you. I should've just told you what I really meant, that I love you and wanted you around as much as possible. I understand being afraid. But Tommy, It wasn't fair of you to make that decision for us. For me. I've been in relationships before, I know when I want something.”

“I know,” Tommy said quietly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn't have said it like that. Shouldn't have said it at all.”

“Good,” Evan said, squeezing Tommy’s hand. “And, I get scared too,” he admitted. “But maybe this time around we can really talk and get to know each other better and figure it all out, together.” 

Tommy felt his lips twisting into a smile. “I’d like that. And maybe next time you can remember I own a house, Evan.” Tommy said, using his other hand to poke him on the side. 

Evan’s face exploded into a blinding smile, squirming slightly at Tommy touching his side. “Right, see we’re already discussing the important details!”  

Tommy shook his head fondly, and finally let himself lean forward softly putting his lips to the pink mark above Evan’s eyebrow. Evan sighed happily. 

They stood there for a moment, looking into one another 's eyes, neither quite believing the other was real. Feeling infinitely grateful to their friend who had given them the push they needed to get here. The glow from the Christmas lights reflected in Evan’s beautiful shining blue eyes, as Tommy traced his thumb over his lips. 

“Merry Christmas, Evan,” Tommy said gently, his voice carrying a note of something vulnerable but undeniably hopeful. 

“Merry Christmas, Tommy,” Evan replied, pulling him towards him and into a soft kiss. 

And for the first time in months, the space between them didn't feel unbridgeable. It felt like the start of something new. Something stronger. Unshakeable. 

[magnagaruzenmon]

Heat Miser

This is a bit of a double gift one for @fanfiction4sooya and one for the lady who runs this page specifically

To Lua when I started writing again I wanted to follow more female writers and by far you have been the kinder and most helpful in terms of having me feel less loss in different exploration of ideas and understanding. So from the bottom of my heart I give you the biggest obrigado

To Maggy you despite your crippling anxiety about being tracked you found me and pushed me to start writing again. So thank you for getting me back into shape.

The living room is alive with the warm hum of laughter, clinking glasses, and the soft crackle of the fireplace. Strings of twinkling lights cast a cozy glow over the room, their reflection dancing in ornaments hanging from the Christmas tree. You’re nestled into the corner of the couch, the comfortable cushions cradling your tired body after hours of playing host. Around you, your friends are engaged in animated conversations, exchanging gifts, and snapping pictures under the mistletoe.

Jihyo is in the center of it all, radiant and magnetic, holding court as she always does. Her laughter rings out like a bell, drawing everyone in. You can’t help but admire her from afar, but tonight, a small pang of selfishness tugs at your chest. You just want a quiet moment alone with your girl.

Without drawing attention, you slip your phone out of your pocket and type a quick message: "hey babe I need some attention."

The second you hit send, you tuck your phone away and push yourself off the couch, blending into the social swirl. If you’re going to sneak a moment with Jihyo later, you might as well make a good impression as a host now. You grab a refill for someone’s drink, laugh at a joke you only half-heard, and dodge a particularly heated debate about holiday movie rankings.

That’s when you notice me—standing awkwardly in the hallway near the stairs, looking like I’m trying to disappear into the wallpaper. I’m shifting uncomfortably, tugging at the collar of my sweater, clearly out of my element. Something about the way I linger at the edge of the crowd tugs at your latent maternal instinct.

You weave through the throng of people and approach me, your voice soft but audible over the festive noise. "Hey, is everything alright?"

I nod quickly, offering a polite but strained smile. "Yeah, just…a little overwhelmed. It’s really warm in here."

You nod in understanding and glance toward the fireplace and the tightly packed crowd. "Yeah, sorry about that. My baby girl loves to keep things hot," you say, smiling apologetically.

I chuckle weakly at your joke but shake my head. "No worries. Do you know somewhere cooler?"

You hesitate, your mind flipping through options. You could send me to one of the upstairs rooms, but the thought makes you pause. Jihyo might finally peel herself away from the party to answer your text, and you want the space to yourselves when she does. After a brief moment of consideration, you gesture toward the sliding glass doors at the back of the house.

"Why don’t you head to the guest house by the pool? It’s quiet out there, and you can cool off for a bit."

Relief washes over my face as I nod. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

You watch as I slip through the sliding doors and out into the crisp night air, disappearing toward the softly lit guest house. Satisfied that I’ll find some peace, you turn back to the party, scanning the room for Jihyo. You're not waiting for long as two hands cover your eyes.

"I hear you're looking for me," Jihyo says in her low sultry voice. You rub your thighs together as her voice always manages to heat things up between the two of you.

"That depends are you gonna be a good girl for mommy," you hear Jihyo stifle a moan as you use the tone that sends a jolt right to her core.

"Yes. I love being a good girl for mommy," Jihyo says submissive and pliant. You smirk and tell her to meet you in your bedroom in 15 minutes.

"But mommy?" Jihyo begs

"Is that back talk?" you question quickly silencing the smaller woman.

"No I just need you," she says as she rubs her thighs together the wetness between them drives her crazy.

You nod then reply, "I know but I need you a little bit more hot and bothered." Jihyo's eyes widen as you walk to your room. While waiting for your lovely girlfriend you turn on the heater in your room and slowly strip. By the time Jihyo is supposed to come in you already have a nice layer of sweat building around your skin.

When she enters she sees your bare body waiting for her. She whimpers and says, "Momo I'm so hot." you smile and respond.

"I know darling, Now eat Mommy then we'll see what we can do for you." Jihyo happily approaches as she wedges herself between your legs. She first starts by doing small semi-circles around your clit causing you to moan as her hot tongue sets your nerves alight.

"That's it, baby girl, keep licking Mommy," you say encouraging Jihyo to continue. Jihyo moans as she slowly inches into your pussy. You smile and yelp as her tongue dips into your walls.

"fuck you moan," as Jihyo continues to tongue fuck you. You groan as your eyes roll into the back of your head before you reach your limit. You cum all over your baby girl's face and the heat between you two only intensifies as you bring Jihyo up to your face your taste still lingering on her face as the two of you make out.

You playfully paw at her breasts causing Jihyo to moan into your kiss,

"Oh mommy," Jihyo says before aligning yourselves together. You smile as you bite her bottom lip causing Jihyo even more pleasure as the two of you get closer. You push Jihyo down as you rut on top of her. Jihyo moans as she feels the heat inside her rage into a fiery tempest. Her moans melodically fill the room as you dominate her further.

"Yes, Mommy" Jihyo repeats like a mantra as she reaches Nirvana. You smile watching your baby girl reach her climax. After she does you get up and begin dressing yourself while Jihyo cools down from your little session.

"Please do hydrate baby girl Mommy doesn't want you becoming mush now," You say coyly as you region the party.

[ceilidho]

prompt: IKEA soap/reader fic. PART 4. (read 1, 2, 3) tags: dubcon; nsfw

-

You only realize after the fact that you may have miscalculated in thinking that this could be a one-time thing between the two of you. 

After listening to Johnny bitch and moan during the Christmas party about having to take time off work to spend the holidays with his very religious family, you delude yourself into thinking you’ll finally be able to have some peace and quiet around the store. Not literally, of course. Working during the holidays is always a recipe for exhaustion—parents coming in at the last minute to demand toys that have long since sold out, fights breaking out in every other aisle as customers fight for the last palatable set of Christmas ornaments and boxed fruit cake. 

You’re not delusional enough to think that work will be a piece of cake, but you are selfishly a little happy that you’ll finally get some time to breathe without Johnny hovering over your shoulder at all hours of your shift. Seasonal shoppers are as exhausting as always, but you get to sit alone in the breakroom with a cup of coffee in the morning right before your shift without someone staring at you or breathing into your personal bubble. 

Johnny spends his entire time off blowing up your phone, sending you pictures of his childhood home, calling you during your breaks, and sending you weird videos that seem to have been filmed entirely in the dark where you can’t see or hear anything apart from some weird squeaks and one loud grunt at the very end of the video that sounds kind of like—you close the video.

You spend the first few days of January dreading his return. The day of is like a shock to your nervous system, the whole morning spent pouring coffee with a trembling hand. 

“Hiya gorgeous,” he purrs when you clock in for your shift. You’re somewhat used to Johnny sneaking up behind you, so you don’t flinch this time when you feel the length of his body press up against you at the time clock. 

“Johnny, it’s seven in the morning,” you mutter out through pursed lips, shoulders stiff when he puts his hands on them and digs his thumbs into the tender points of your back. You bite back a moan.

“Missed ye, kitten. Cannae believe I went a whole week without hearing you purr.”

He could’ve phrased that a thousand other ways, but he just had to choose the one that would make you wince. He digs his thumbs in again, trying to push the moan out of you, but you tamp it down. You hold back a shudder when he plants his nose onto the crown of your head and inhales, drawing your scent into his lungs. 

“Where’ye assigned ta today? Jeff owes me a favour—gonna ask him if I can spend the day with ye so we can catch up.” 

You go still when he drops a firm kiss to the side of your head. “I’m…not sure. I haven’t checked the schedule yet.” It’s a half-lie. You may not have checked the schedule yet, but you know from having briefly chatted with your manager this morning in the parking lot where you’ll be spending most of your day.

Still, it means that you get to shake off Johnny for a bit. “Lemme go check for ye, okay, hen? Stay here, a’right?”

You watch him jog off down the hall to the breakroom before finally leaving. It’ll be better for you if you’re gone before he comes back. 

The first hour of your day is spent on softlines until Priya in jewellery randomly comes down with a chill and gets sent home early, forcing you to cover her section. Usually that wouldn’t be such a bad deal—it means you get to spend your shift helping people try on bracelets and rings, restocking the earring display, and leaning against the counter for hours at a time. It’s not a particularly busy station.  

While you're assigned to the jewellery section though, Johnny pops out of nowhere as you're helping a customer contemplating a birthday ring for his fiancé. With the kind of confidence that you’ve come to expect from Johnny, he uses your hand to model some of the rings, but this time it feels oddly weirdly intense. When he slides the first ring onto your finger, you can feel the way he holds his breath, even shudders a bit. He presses himself right up against you behind the display counter, hardness pressing against your hip. 

It doesn’t take long for your customer to leave. Johnny’s demeanour is off-putting, concerning even. You can’t fault the guy for being rightfully repulsed by the way Johnny crowds up against you like you’re alone together. 

“What are you doing?” you hiss through your teeth.

“Cannae help it, hen. I ken ye wanna wait, but it jus’ makes me a bit emotional seein’ my girl wearing a ring I put on.”

He blinks down at you with big, blue eyes, the picture of innocence. You should’ve anticipated there being a danger in letting Johnny stew over that on his own. Of course he’d come to his own conclusions, even one as deranged as thinking of your hook up as a step towards dating. You can’t help but side eye him. 

“We—we’re not a couple, Johnny.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Ye just let anybody eat you out in the supply closet then? S’that right?” It’s said rhetorically, like he knows the answer already. You flinch at the slight though.

“That was—” you cut yourself off to take a breath, an ache growing behind your forehead, “—that was a…it was a one-time thing. You can’t just act like we’re dating.”

His lips turn down in a pout, displeasure rippling across his face. You brace yourself for the inevitable argument, for shit to hit the fan, because obviously that’s what’s brewing under the surface. You brace yourself for worse too because when you happen to glance around, you realize how few people are actually milling around in the area. 

Then, instead of losing his temper, Johnny’s eyes grow smoky, heavy-lidded, and the pout lifts into a lazy, playful grin. “A’right, kitty, no’ dating then. That’s fine wi’ me.”

This time it’s you that frowns, staring up at him dubiously. “…Really?” It feels too sudden, quicksilver. Johnny’s fiery by nature, short tempered on his best days and more likely to grit his teeth and bear the displeasure of not getting his way than happily giving into it. His sudden smile is at odds with the version of him that exists in your mind, furious at you for denying him. 

Maybe you’ve got him all wrong. 

The gleam in his eye betrays nothing, however. “I swear.” He leans closer to you then, fingers fiddling with the name tag pinned over your chest on your work vest, straightening it. “Doesnae mean we have ta give the rest up though. Ye liked what we did in the closet, right, hen?”

It feels like he’s sucked the air out of the room, as big as it is. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about that.”

“Och, c’mon, kitty,” Johnny breathes, hunching just a little over and into your space, making the moment feel private, just the two of you. “Had to talk about it eventually. Did ye just expect that everything would go back to normal after ye let me eat ye out? Hey—” he catches you when you try to make a move to step away from him, wrapping a big hand around your wrist and tugging you closer to him, “—listen, kitty—it doesnae have to be anything serious, right? That’s what’s making ye all jumpy and nervous? I’ll lick your pussy, free of charge. Dinnae need any labels. How’s that sound, kitty? Dick on demand?”

It should repulse you. The way he speaks to you is crass, crude. His voice is hushed, haggard, fur stretched taut over stone—and yet, your hands tremble, just a little. It tempts you. Purring Scottish burr, lapis lazuli eyes, bristle cheeks that you still remember scraping up your inner thighs. He’s a package you can’t imagine sending back.

“You won’t get…you promise not to get weird about it?” you ask.

His smile curls up, impish. “Cross my heart, kitten.”

Maybe you’re delusional enough to think that you can have your cake and eat it too. There’s a voice in your head telling you to face the facts, but you disregard it as if you haven’t been working with Johnny for months. As if you aren’t aware of his penchant for saying or doing anything to get his way. It’s maybe naive of you. 

All you know is that he smothers a laugh when you tell him you’ll think about it. Knows he’s got you right where he wants.

You don’t fight when he drags you into the single-stall bathroom towards the end of your shift, letting him position you in front of the mirror before sinking to his knees behind you. Forces you to watch the way you come apart on his tongue, not giving you his fingers until you beg him to, the whispered plea a hairsbreadth away from becoming a scream. 

“Oh, did she miss me?” Johnny breathes, a happy laugh in his voice when he runs the broad side of his tongue over your entrance from the back. “Fuck, look at that. Winked at me ‘n everythin’. Hi darling, missed ye too.”

You don’t think you’ll ever be the same after hearing that come out of his mouth. You go hot all over again when you clench involuntarily, equal parts turned on and horrified. He sniggers before trying to cram his whole tongue up into you. 

There’s a moment of panic when Johnny draws up behind you after making you come and you hear him undo his pants. There’s nowhere for you to go with your pants still looped around your ankles, underwear pulled all the way down as well. You hear yourself hiss a startled Johnny when he slots a fat cock between your thighs, staring dumbly at the reflection of him behind you. At your back, he seems massive, lean and trim but towering over you, broad. 

He shushes you. “Dinnae be selfish, hen—gotta get mine too. Jus’ gonna fuck your thighs, dinnae fret.”

You squeak when he pushes your thighs together forcefully, dragging his cock over your folds to wet himself. Watching Johnny fuck is nothing like staring down at him when he eats you out. He pants harsh and ragged into the side of your head, nips at your ear. The glint in his eyes goes animalistic, vacant. Human desire recedes, subsumed into the animal part of his brain with the single-minded need to fuck. 

The only thing keeping him from driving up into you, accidentally or not, is the way you keep your thighs pressed together. A warm, tight channel for him to push his cock into. Thick fingers dig into your waist, sure to leave bruises. You wince when lean hips pound against your backside, growing frantic as need overtakes him. You flirt at the edge of panic, certain that at any second, he’ll pull your thighs apart and nudge the head of his cock up into you. 

“Jus’ like that, fuck,” he grunts. “Be a good little fuckin’ girl and jus’ let me—”

His tongue lolls out on a particularly rough thrust, hands groping over your belly and up to your chest, slipping his hand under your shirt and bra to pinch your nipple. He twists it mean, nasty, until you have no choice but to grunt through grit teeth, eyes watering. You feel like a doll meant for his pleasure, no choice but to grip the sides of the sink and let Johnny use you until he comes. 

“Fuck,” Johnny groans, eyes going half-lidded. “Love makin’ this pussy come. Love gettin’ her all messy and wet. Lettin’ me between your thighs even when I make ye nervous—fuck, ‘m gonna come, ‘m gonna—fuck, fuck, fuck—”

White come stripes the sink in front of you, thick and viscous. Paints the inside of your thighs as well when he drags his hips back until just the head of his cock sits nestled up against your sex. Hyperconscious of where it tags your inner lips, that there’s no barrier between the two of you, just come and skin. 

The full body shake shocks you, a ripple from your heels to the top of your head. 

His free hand grasps you by the hair when you try to slip away. “Ye gonna clean up your mess, baby?”

You glance back up at his reflection in the mirror, trying to suss him out. Shark-like eyes meet yours. Something you’ve seen in glances before finally staring back at you with full force. You reach for the paper towel dispenser with a shaking hand. 

“Nah,” Johnny scolds, giving you a shake. “With your mouth.”

The command hangs in the air, no joke or laugh to undercut it. His eyes read serious to you, still dark. No leniency present in the blue. 

You stare down at his come on the sink, slack-jawed. “You don’t seriously mean—”

“Jus’ kidding, silly,” he chuckles, giving a teasing bite to your earlobe and tugging. The tension in the air disperses. “Got ye, huh?” 

You force a laugh. “Yeah…got me.”

[comatosebunny09]

merry christmas, mr. sylus [ fin ]

— summary: the one where you nearly tear your hair out, trying to find the perfect christmas gift for your office crush. — cw: fluff, romance, jealousy, feelings of inadequacy, reader is not mc, ceo verse, modern au, aged-up characters, mutual pining, misunderstanding trope, mild language, silliness, angst — notes: the finale for this. thank you for reading! — now playing: swan serenade - piano house

You spend the remainder of the party avoiding your boss like the plague. But running into him is inevitable. You work directly for the man, after all.

As the staff trickles out, taking with them their drunken merriment, you’re left to pick up the pieces of your wounded heart and the party’s aftermath. 

You shove Solo cups and decorative paper plates into a trash bin. Snatch off tablecloths and roll the karaoke machine into the broom closet. Wipe off tables, tear down garland. You do everything you can to stay busy, your self-loathing an ever-present rain cloud hanging overhead.

What were you expecting? For Mr. Sylus to fall to his knees for you? For him to sever whatever bond he has with Ms. Hunter for you? You snort at yourself as a wet film of heat slides over your eyes, impairing your vision. You feel ridiculous. Sick to your stomach. 

The trash bin slips from your fingers, thudding dully on the carpeted floor. In an attempt to collect yourself, you prop your hands on the edge of a table, releasing a shaky sigh. You blink away the new commination of tears. You’d been doing good so far, having given yourself a lengthy pep-talk in the bathroom earlier. Something to get you through what remained of the night without wearing your anguish on your sleeves.

So what if he doesn’t view you in the same light as you view him? This isn’t the first time you’ve faced rejection, and it most certainly won’t be the last. It doesn’t make this iteration hurt any less. You’re his secretary, for God’s sake. Not a friend nor a potential love interest. The quips and laughter you exchange daily are nothing more than him being polite. The model gentleman, maintaining the peace between himself and the person responsible for organizing his life. 

You are so swept up in the turmoil of your mind that you hardly register your name being called. Someone beckons to you again, this time more assertive, though not scolding. You whip your head around to the source of the sound, homing in on a familiar shock of white. 

Tamping down the emotions swelling in your chest, you straighten, fixing your sweater, and a superficial smile takes up residence on your face.

“Yes, sir?”

He studies you for a beat from the slab of space permitted by his half-opened door, long fingers wrapped around the oakwood like spindly spider limbs. He gives you a once over, his brows slightly wrinkled. His lips quiver, gaze pensive like he wants to say something. Something other than what next comes out. 

“Would you mind assisting me with something?” he asks, his tone deceptively impassive. 

Your stomach lurches, the feeling akin to cresting over the slope of a roller coaster. You swallow, pushing your disappointment to the back burner. What did you expect him to say? Sorry? Like he even knows you’re upset. Like he knows why you’re upset. 

Like he cares. 

You nod curtly, wiping your sweaty palms on your jeans. “Of course, sir.”

You move to your desk, your nerves exploding like solar flares beneath your skin while Sylus slinks back into his office. He promptly reappears, thrusting a thick stack of envelopes of varying sizes and colors towards you. Your vision blurs and adjusts as you glance between him and the envelopes.

“Christmas cards,” he answers flatly with a shrug. “I could use some help opening and drafting up responses to them all.” 

“Oh.” Try to sound more disappointed, why don’t you? 

Your fingers graze the clutch of his hand when you reach for the cards. And the worn, warm glide of his skin beneath your fingertips makes you stiffen. You wonder what it would feel like to purposely hold his hand. To commit the feel of his palm to memory. But you banish such thoughts, bowing your head and ducking away.

“Sorry,” you pinch out, moving to the chaise sofa against the wall by his office door. 

He’s wordless as he plops down beside you, releasing a weighted sigh. He drapes his arm along the back of the seat. You try vainly to ignore his slender fingers near your shoulder, drumming against the polished leather. 

You lapse into a rigid silence, your shoulders and jaw set. You find your resolve trickling away, the warmth he exudes beside you making you feel dizzy and shameless. He even has the audacity to smell good, that unmistakable mixture of birch wood, pressed clothing, and his natural musk, conspiring together to overhaul your senses. 

You wonder if he would be offended if you just… leaned a little this way and—forget it. The bubbly’s getting to you. You’re not testing your luck tonight. You worked your ass off to secure this job, enduring tireless screenings and background checks. Worked even harder to gain his trust. No sense in allowing your feelings to compromise your position. 

Besides, you know where you stand with him. Or don’t stand. The spectacle before with the darling Ms. Hunter was all the confirmation you needed. The words you never stood a chance resound in your head like a struck gong. You scoff, tearing into a crimson envelope, dispelling the cacophony in your head. 

“This one is from Mrs. Carter over in HR,” you say, waving the card around. You don your usual playful mask, praying your hurt doesn’t show through the fissures. He acknowledges you with a gruff sound, immersed in a card of his own. You take that as your cue to continue.

Feigning nonchalance, you flip the card open. You clear your throat, repositioning yourself on the sticky, squeaky sofa, crossing your legs, and leaning towards the opposite chair arm. You rattle off the card’s contents aloud. A generic greeting, hollow praise, a bidding for a successful new year. 

“Send her a gift card,” he answers dismissively. You scoff, tucking the card between your thigh and the chair’s arm. Is it just you, or is he being unbearably cold? You’re the one with the wounded pride here.

You occupy yourself with another letter, trying to quell the new swell of emotions burbling in your chest. You’ve reread the same line repeatedly, the cursive scrawl embedded into the cardstock blurring and bending. It’s exceedingly difficult to focus with him so close. And you find yourself stealing little glimpses of him in your peripheral.

He looks even better beneath the incandescent lights like this, like a Roman sculpture bread from patient hands. His cheeks are mottled red, probably from throwing back one too many glasses of champagne. Delicate, alabaster strands fall from their usual coiffure, sweeping over set brows and hollow cheeks. Dark lashes dust over warm ivory skin, scarlet irises dancing beneath as he reads over another Christmas card. You watch his Adam’s apple bob when he swallows. Find yourself, too, swallowing against the dry, scratchy feeling in your throat.

You tug in the neckline of your sweater. It’s itchy and thick, and the heater’s turned up in the building to combat the cold outside. You’re uncomfortable because of the temperature and not because your boss is so unbearably close.

With a sigh, you peel yourself from the lounge. You venture to your desk in search of a letter opener. If you’re going to spend the rest of your night working, you might as well make the task a little less daunting. Rifling through your drawers, you happen upon the biggest one. And your breath catches, grip white-knuckled on the brass knob when you catch sight of it. Inside lies your present—his present—the intricate foil wrapping gleaming condescendingly.

Something pulls in your chest. Your hand shakes. Your lips pull into a taut line, embarrassment spuming like a hot geyser into your face. You’re about to slam the drawer shut, but a streak of warm skin stains your peripheral vision. And as horror descends onto your features, he snatches up the contents of your drawer faster than you can process things. 

“What’s this now?” your boss asks, intrigue mixed with amusement hanging in the boughs of his voice. 

Wide-eyed and mortified, you look at him. Your flight or fight instincts kick in, pushing you towards the latter. He dons a wolfish grin as you swipe at the box in his hand, and he holds it just out of reach. Damn him for being so absurdly tall!

“Sir!” you clip, swiping at the gift like an enraged feline. He doesn’t relent, instead spurred by your reaction, and the contents of the box shift about as he continues his childish game of keep away. Your chest slides against him each time you strain on tippy-toe. And you try to ignore how pleasant he feels, warm and hard-bodied against you.

Spinning out of reach, your boss chuckles at your expense. He seems to enjoy this, watching you hop after him like a field mouse, trying vainly to swipe the object from his hand. 

“You think I didn’t notice you fretting over this all night?” he teases once you’ve stopped—at least for now—your cheeks puffing out, nostrils flaring. 

“Mr. Sylus, I—”

“And you weren’t even going to give it to me.” He clicks his tongue, feigning hurt. “What have I done to warrant such cruelty?”

Reality slowly seeps in. He’s one step closer to opening your gift and discovering how much of a useless spazz you are. Switching tactics, you hold out a placating hand, stepping towards him like he’s holding a charged explosive.

“Sir, I need that back!”

His mouth forms a pensive line as his gaze shifts between you and the box clutched in his fingers. “Why? It’s mine, isn’t it? It has my name on it.” He squints at the meticulous scrawl of your penmanship, and when you make a surprise lunge toward the box when you think he’s distracted, he swings his arm out of reach, baiting you like a bull.

He laughs low, a mirthful crease to his eyes. You’d take time to appreciate it if you weren’t fighting for your life. 

“What’s got you so worked up? What could possibly be in here that you’re willing to bite my head off to get it back?”

You swallow thickly, chest heaving as you watch Sylus drop onto your leather rolling chair, cross-legged and smiling like the cat who caught the canary. He shakes the box near his ear, its contents rattling about. 

“Sir, don’t.” But it’s too late. The sound of paper ripping is jarring in the stillness of your office space. 

You’re stiff as stone, mouth hinged open, terror screwing up your features. Eventually, you concede to your fate, hands falling listlessly at your sides whilst your boss uncovers what lurks beneath the pretty foil paper you’d spent so much time wrapping his present in. You pour yourself onto the chaise lounge, your shoulders touching your ears, feeling like a child waiting with their parents at the principal’s office. You sneak little glances at his hands, each tear making you wince like a scrape against your heart.

Sylus quirks a quizzical brow at you, looking between the matte grey box he uncovered in his hand and you. You don’t contest him, too busy trying to remember how to breathe. He takes your cue, slowly peeling the lid off the box. He reaches inside to procure yet another box, slightly smaller than the one it’s nested in, neatly wrapped in paper similar to what he just tore off. 

Giving you a perturbed look, Sylus repeats the previous process. And again, he’s faced with matte gray. He carries on like this, peeling back a lid, finding another box nested inside, and tearing through wrapping paper for another three iterations.

“How long does this go on?” he prods, faced with another box. “And how many trees did you kill to pull this off?”

You press the tips of your index fingers together, pursing your lips as you look elsewhere. “You’re almost there.” You’re half-grateful he decided to be shit about it. You don’t feel as bad for nesting his gift away like matryoshka dolls. He deserves to feel the same distress he subjected you to mere minutes ago.

Vexation rolls off him in waves when he reaches yet another box, and he fixes you with a look that bodes danger. There aren’t too many times you’ve witnessed him this annoyed. He’s normally like this when his afternoon nap is interrupted by anyone but you or he’s dealing with a particularly ornery client. 

You stand from the couch with a nervous titter in your throat, snatching up the discarded red bow and ribbons you adorned his gift with and tacking it onto the crown of your head. You do a little jig, something to dispel the tension, wordlessly cheering him on. 

Sylus rolls his eyes with a resigned sigh. A ghostly smile rounds his lips thereafter, and you could swear you see something like fondness shining in his eyes at your antics. It disappears as quickly as it came, replaced by a determined pinch between his brows. 

You continue swaying your hips from side to side and pumping your fists in the air, the bow's ribbons falling comically over your eyes and water-falling off your shoulders. 

Finally, finally, Sylus exposes a matte, black box that’s the size of his palm. Wrapping paper lies like carnage at his feet, bent-up cardboard boxes piled atop your desk. You sigh in relief, though it’s short-lived, as he opens the final barrier between him and his gift.

He studies the contents of this new box, eerily quiet. You swallow as he reaches inside, producing something garish and pink from within. “What the hell is this?” he queries, waving the plastic novelty revolver around.  

You snort, the flatness of his tone catching you off guard. “A gun,” you answer as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

Sylus scoffs. “Clearly. But what is it for?”

Flourishing your arms, you plaster on a grin. ���For you to put me down in case you no longer find any use for me!”

Looking between the pink revolver and you, he crooks his finger around the trigger, huffing a disbelieving laugh. “You want me to ‘Old Yeller’ you?”   

“If that’s what it comes down to.” And what comedic timing he has, pulling the trigger, a banner with Bang printed in bright Comic Sans popping out, complimented by a flurry of rainbow paper confetti.

Silence lapses between you as the confetti flutters to the floor. You caution a look at your boss, and he shakes his head, his lips crooked into a smirk, though the knit of his brows reveals his disappointment. 

“You can also use it during your meetings when someone pisses you off,” you warily add, shifting your weight between your feet. He doesn’t honor you with a response, instead setting the revolver on your desk with a definitive clack. He studies something in the distance, seemingly ignoring you.

If you weren’t already feeling silly before, you most certainly do now. You figured something unconventional would suit your boss. Something to define your work relationship, the pair of you often trading morbid and esoteric jokes to make the day's hustle a little less daunting. It seemed like a good idea when it caught your eye in the mall. In retrospect, maybe it wasn’t a good buy after all. Especially when compared to Ms. Hunter's gift, and the recollection makes something cold wash over your innards.

You press the tips of your index fingers together, gaze cast on the floor. You’ve screwed up, and you’ll probably lose your job over this. Either that or your working relationship will turn to shit. You’d honestly rather be relieved of your position when considering the latter option. Turning to leave, to pick up the jagged shards of your pride and finish tidying up, you gasp when you feel a warm presence behind you, the fine hairs littering your body standing at attention. 

You turn to acknowledge him, wincing away, expecting to be struck. Mr. Sylus has never raised a hand at you before, only lightly flicking your forehead or tapping your nose when he felt playful that day. You realize how ridiculous you must look and sound, but you steel yourself against the worst possible outcome regardless.

A hit never comes. You’re instead greeted with the hard press of a body against yours. With arms loosely winding about your middle and a chin finding the crook of your shoulder. His scent is overwhelming. The heat he exudes is dizzying, wit-pilfering. 

Wide-eyed, with your hands opening and closing awkwardly at your sides, you stiffen as you grapple with the notion that your boss is hugging you. Mr. Sylus. Hugging you. No matter how many times you turn the words over in your mind, you can’t process them. You didn’t even know he was capable of such an act.

“Thank you,” he intones, his voice a pleasant vibration in your body. He rubs over the notches of your spine, nuzzling into you further like you’re his security blanket. Once your common sense returns, an affectionate smile touches your lips. 

You clumsily return his hug, unsure of the proper conduct in this situation. But you throw caution to the wind, full-on embracing him, your eyes twinkling with tears. “Of course, sir,” you murmur, swallowing against the swell of emotions in your throat.

The hug ends much too soon for your liking. Sylus peels away, his hands clasping your arms. You tilt your head quizzically as he studies you, the bow's ribbons brushing off your shoulder. You must be quite the doe-eyed sight. His eyes darken as his gaze falls to your lips, his own mouth slightly parting. He looks as if he’s wrestling with something in his mind. Turning it over, at war with himself. He seems to win whatever battle is taking place behind his eyes, for he slowly pans in, his lashes bowing.

And maybe you’re swept up in the moment, too, his hug having buried your defenses in the sand. You don’t fight him, only awkwardly shifting when your lips meet before relaxing beneath the slight chap of his lips. 

Beneath the ethereal twinkle of the fairy lights you hadn’t yet snatched down, through the stillness of the investment firm’s tenth floor, and with your pulse thundering in your throat, Mr. Sylus kisses you. A full press of lips, his grip on your arms tightening the barest as if to keep you rooted to the spot. Not that you would run, feeling weightless, like navigating a dream. 

As quickly as reality floats onto your shoulders like a wispy shawl, he pulls back, wild-eyed and panting. And it’s as if you’re the greatest sin he was never meant to indulge in. He releases you before tearing a shaky hand through his tresses, pushing out a weighted exhale. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, stepping away from you before you can think, each hurried thump of his loafers across the floor like a strike to your racing heart.

You strain your ears for every bit of sound until the elevator around the corner pings, and you hear him step inside, the doors swishing shut. And you’re left to the swell of static and impenetrable silence, staring after the faint afterimage left by his tall visage. 

You turn towards the ceiling high-window, dazed. Touch your lips with shaky fingers, the sensitive skin still tingling with the remnants of your kiss. Flecks of white streak the violet canvas beyond the window, the first snowfall fluttering in gossamer patterns towards the ground. 

You got what you wanted. What you’d maybe consider the greatest Christmas gift you've ever received. But as a bitter smile tugs at your lips, your eyesight glossing over with a warm film, and you clutch your chest, your thoughts seep in.

Why does it feel like it’s not what he wanted? 

[creamflix]

hi hello i came across ur account recently and jus wanna say i am OBSESSED ma. ur the actual coolest

anywaysss i also happened to see your christmas event, so i was wondering if i could req a gojo + mistletoe + naughty fic?

thank u sm!!

you’ve received a gift! ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ want your own gift? ・:〃➜ click here! 

nanami’s christmas party was supposed to be peaceful — a little too peaceful, if you were being honest. the warm hum of soft jazz carols, polite laughter, and the clink of wine glasses was enough to lull anyone into a festive daze. 

but you? you were on high alert.

why? because GOJO SATORU, your friend — well, kinda — was out for blood. 

or more accurately, out for a kiss.

“come oonnnn, it’s tradition!” he’d declared earlier, dangling a sprig of mistletoe in your face with the grin of a man who had no intention of playing fair.

“tradition my ass, satoru,” you snapped, sidestepping him. “stop harassing people with that thing.”

“people?” he gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “you wound me. it’s just you, baby. you’re the target.”

and now, somewhere between the gingerbread cookies and nanami’s impeccable charcuterie board, gojo had taken things to a whole new level of absurdity. he’d taped mistletoe — actually taped it — to his iconic black glasses and was prowling around the party like some deranged holiday predator.

“get back here, you coward!”

you darted behind the christmas tree, stifling a laugh as gojo nearly tripped over a box of ornaments. 

“you look ridiculous,” you called out, catching a glimpse of him through the branches.

“ridiculous?” he echoed, mockingly aghast. “this is genius. nanami even complimented me.”

“he called you a menace.”

“same thing.”

you rolled your eyes, trying to slip away unnoticed, but of course, the man had reflexes sharper than a hawk’s.

“aha!” he exclaimed, spotting you as you rounded the couch.

“satoru, don’t you dare —”

too late. with a burst of speed that defied his lanky frame, he cut you off, pressing you into a corner. his towering form blocked your escape entirely, and his smug grin told you he knew it.

“gotcha,” he said, the mistletoe on his glasses dangling obnoxiously close to your face.

“you’re insufferable,” you hissed, your heart racing — though whether it was from exertion or the way his intense gaze pinned you in place, you weren’t sure.

“and yet,” he murmured, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, “you’re not running anymore.”

you opened your mouth to retort, but the words died on your lips as his hands braced the wall on either side of you. he was so close you could see the flecks of icy blue in his eyes behind the mistletoe.

“you’ve been driving me crazy all night,” he said, his tone low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. “do you have any idea what you do to me?”

your breath hitched, the tension thick enough to drown in. “satoru,” you started, trying to regain some semblance of control, but he cut you off with a wry smirk.

“it’s tradition,” he murmured again, and before you could argue, his lips crashed into yours.

it wasn’t playful, like you’d expect — it was heated, overwhelming, and utterly consuming. his mouth moved against yours with a yearning that left you breathless, his tongue teasing yours in a way that sent sparks straight to your core.

your knees buckled slightly, but his hands were there instantly, gripping your hips to steady you as he pressed closer.

“damn, you taste better than the cookies,” he muttered against your lips, his voice breathless but teasing.

“you’re insane,” you managed to gasp, though your hands betrayed you by tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

“and you love it,” he shot back, kissing you again with a fervor that left you dizzy.

when he finally pulled back, both of you breathless and flushed, he adjusted his glasses with a satisfied grin.

“merry christmas to me,” he quipped, tapping the broken piece of tape still clinging to the mistletoe on his glasses.

you shoved his chest playfully, trying to ignore the way your heart was still racing. 

“you’re unbelievable.”

“and yet, you kissed me back,” he pointed out, his grin widening.

“shut up.”

“make me.”

produced by creamflix on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, modify, repost — support your writers by liking and reblogging. ♡

[arsenal-womens-1]

What if I say no and I come with you

Request

“It’s one thing to be in love, but it’s something else entirely to be willing to sacrifice everything for it.” - Unknown

December 10th: We had just got back on the bus; we had just played Chelsea and won 4-1. The main topic throughout the bus was the transfer window. You and Jen were sitting next to each other. On the opposite side, Beth and Viv sat. You and Beth were nearest to the window with your partners next to you. Beth and Jen were talking as you and Viv just sat and listened. The topic of transfers comes up. Everyone knows that you and Jen’s contracts run out in January.

“Are you going to sign new contracts this season?” You and Jen had put a lot of thought into it. Jen had already started to get offers, a lot from the NWSL. You had received some offers as well, so you had decided that Jen was going to go to the NWSL and you somewhere in Europe. You had done this countless times, but something about this didn’t feel the same. Jen glances over at you.

“We talked, and we decided if things don’t change with the offers, I’m going to go to the NWSL and Y/N somewhere in Europe.”

You just hum. “What about you, Viv?” It was no secret in the team that Viv was unhappy. The way she was being treated was wrong, but there’s nothing anyone can do about it.

“I haven’t decided anything yet, but if I don’t, my contract runs out in July, so I guess I’ll just see what happens.” After that, the other two go back to talking.

January 2nd: Kim Little has invited the whole team around for a team bonding session. Training didn’t start for another few days, but as the transfer season is now open, this is probably the last time that this team will play together. We needed to be at her house at 5 p.m., and it’s currently 4:56. You two just pulled into her street. A few cars you recognize. Jen pulls into an open spot, turns off the car, and gets out. She always insists on opening the door for you. You walk up to the house, knocking on the door. You wait for someone to answer. Kim finally opens it.

“Hey, come in. A few of the girls are already here.” Walking into the main room, more than half of the team is there. You and Jen separate and go talk to different people. You walk over to Frida, Lia, Amanda, Stina, Katie, and Caitlin.

“Hey, Y/N.”

You stand next to Lia. “Hey.” You had not seen each other since the 21st, as everyone left for where they were spending Christmas on the 22nd.

“How was Christmas?” Everyone talks about what they did and random stuff. Once again, the transfer topic comes up.

“Y/N, have you and Jen chosen what teams you’re going to?”

You had thought about it for the last month but had yet to pick one. “Jen has; I haven’t yet, though.”

January 19th: You had just finished training. You had been thinking about it and didn’t know who to talk to, so when you bump into Kelly Smith, it feels like a blessing.

“Hey, Kelly, can I ask you something?”

She had always said that if any of you needed help, you could ask her, and now you need that help.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

You look around to make sure that nobody is near. “How did you know you were making the right choice when you retired?”

She takes a moment to think. “I knew I was making the right decision when I looked at all the things I had achieved, and when I thought about it, I felt at peace that I had done everything I could and won everything I could. I knew I was doing it for the right reasons.”

Hearing her say that really helped. Realistically, there was nothing else you could win—you won the Euros with England, came second in the World Cup, had Olympic medals, and played for Barca. You had done it all. You nod your head.

“Thank you for saying that.”

You go to the changing room and see everyone. You get changed.

January 30th: We are standing in our back garden. It was Jen’s goodbye party. A few people were talking, a few eating, and a lot playing football. You and Jen are standing on the deck at the top of the garden. Her arms are wrapped around your back as your head is on her chest.

“Jen.”

She hums to show that she’s listening.

“What if I say no to all the teams and come with you? I don’t want to be separated anymore. I’m happy with everything I’ve achieved; there’s nothing left to do.”

She pulls back a little to look at you, her eyes searching yours for any sign that you’re lying.

“Are you serious?”

You nod your head as your voice seems to have disappeared.

Jen’s expression softens as she looks you in the eye. “Are you sure? There’s a lot to consider—what if you regret it? What if you miss out on opportunities that could have come your way?”

You squeeze her hands gently. “I know there are risks. But I think the chance to be together and not worry about when the next time we get to see each other is worth it. I want to wake up with you next to me. I’ve done everything I have ever wanted for my career; there’s nothing left to accomplish.”

She holds you in a tight hug. “If this is what you truly want, then come with me.”

[tldix]

Do i wanna know?

summary: fleeing to college after catching your highschool sweetheart cheating, you find yourself right back in your home town 4 years later. your degree almost complete & your sanity slowly slipping, you find solace in the one place you know you shouldn’t. your dads best friend. Dean Winchester.

word count: idk something embarrassingly long probably🫣

warnings : mature 18+, dbf, AU, yearning AF, spn content, grumpy/sunshine ish?? idk (im trying to include most of the main characters from spn, again AU)

a/n: this is my 2nd ever fic so pls be nice 😔 (& lmk your thoughts, any ideas you may want added) i have every intention of making this a series, if you wanna be added to my tag list just comment 🫶🏼 with alllll this being said i hope you enjoy 🥲

The airport was alive with chaos—families reuniting, announcements echoing overhead, and the constant shuffle of luggage wheels against tiled floors. you adjusted the strap of your duffel bag & guitar case as you took a steadying breath as you followed the crowd toward baggage claim.

It had been months since you last came home, and even longer since you had really felt at home. College had consumed you, with its never-ending stream of exams, late-night study sessions, and endless cups of cheap coffee. Now, with your degree in psychology just a semester away, the weight of expectations pressed heavier on your shoulders.

you tugged her phone from your pocket and skimmed the last text from your dad.

| see you soon kid. we can stop at Bobby’s diner on the way home. i know he’d be over the moon to see you, bet you’re sick of all that tofu & books. don’t forget your still my daughter- not some Freud-loving brainiac”

you stifle a giggle as you head towards the parking lot, eyes skimming for the old green dodge your dad refuses to part with. you let your thoughts drift back to a time before you left for college. when you were waitressing at Bobby’s diner, when you were still with that jackass Colter. when the world felt as if it was falling apart. you quickly shake the thoughts from your head, moving your feet along the pavement out the double doors. your eyes fall on your dads truck, he jumps out with a 9 mile smile as he runs towards you.

“dad! oh my gosh i’ve missed you”

your dad picks you up, wrapping you in one of his signature bear hugs. you melted into his embrace, breathing in the scent of motor oil and aftershave.

“sticks, Look who’s back from the land of overpriced coffee and vegan muffins!”

“Dad, not everyone in college eats vegan muffins.” you laughed.

as your dad grabs your bags, he bombards you with questions. “how was school?” “didn’t meet another jackass like that one boy did you?” “i’m so glad you’re home now sticks, i was real tired of eating take out”

finally. this is what you were searching for. the peace feeling only your dad can seem to give you. the home feeling. you bite the inside of your cheek, feeling the warm smile trying to seep through the wedges in your teeth. you glance out the window, seeing all the familiar streets & shops. the Macleod bakery, Harvelles road house, the dentist your dad would fight tooth & nail to get you into. how was Garth now? you found yourself wondering. it’s been a long time since you were home, you couldn’t be happier. for the first time in years you felt as if you had absolutely no worries. none at all, well until your dad said

“i planned you a welcome home party, more like a bbq but dean was more than happy to let us use his grill. it’s saturday if that works for you sweetheart?”

Dean Winchester had been a part of your life for as long as you could remember, like an unofficial uncle who never missed a BBQ or a birthday. He and your dad, J.P., had been best friends since their teens, inseparable through thick and thin. Dean was brash, charming, and had a knack for pushing your buttons in the way only he could. you hadn’t seen him since Christmas, but the memory of his teasing smirk lingered in your mind.

“sweetheart? is that okay?”

you fumble over your words, trying to push them out & making them seem as nonchalant as possible.

“yeah uh that’s fine dad. can’t wait”

you glance up to see your dad pulling into his usual parking spot outside Bobby’s diner. Bobby was a good man, your dad’s parents weren’t around when you were born so Bobby was quick to claim you as his own granddaughter. blood or not, youre family. as you open the creaky door of your dads old truck, you find every peace of worry gone again. you practically skip to the door, tearing it open as you glance around. ‘that old man really doesn’t change shit’ you thought to yourself.

“sticks? is that really you?”

you thought you were fine, you really convinced yourself until you heard that deep baritone voice. now you felt the ache of tears pressing against your eyes. you whip your head around, eyes meeting the one & only Bobby Singer. the whole diners stopped eating & talking. honing in on the grumpy old man facade slipping from Bobby’s face. you find yourself jogging over to him, he drops the tray to the floor as he quickly envelopes you into a hug.

“Pops! it’s so good to see you”

your voice is muffled from the hold Bobby has on you, his own tears falling down his face into his flannel to mix with yours. you glance up meeting his eyes as he says

“damnit girl, i can’t believe you’re here. how was school? you back for good?”

you pull yourself away hesitantly

“i’m back for good pops. finishing out my last semester here, was hoping you still had that waitressing position open”

your eyebrows shoot up hopefully as a small smirk falls on your face, Bobby wraps his arm around your shoulder as he chuckles

“for you? of course.”

Bobby’s eyes finally meet your fathers, he pulls Jp into a tight hug

“hell boy why didn’t you tell me she was coming home. i’d have-“

jp chuckles as he cuts bobby off

“listen old man, you got enough going on. plus i figured a surprise would do you some good. especially a sticks shaped surprise”

hours passed as you sat & caught up with Bobby, his eyes never leaving yours. almost like he couldn’t believe you were really here. you talked about school, the waitressing job you had in California (but making sure to let Bobby know no place could compare to his). as you ate a smile never left your face, Jp & Bobby telling you stories about the 4 years you were gone. youre laughing, you’re crying. you didn’t know you could feel so many emotions just by coming home. you’re about to leave when Bobby pulls you aside. hugging you as he tells you

“sticks now listen. i know you don’t wanna hear what i’m bout to say but i also know if you hear it from anyone else you’ll lose it. Col-“

you pull away, locking eyes with Bobby

“pops please don’t-“

“wait just a second lemme finish. Colters getting married. got a baby on the way”

you felt the ground beneath your crumble. no, no, no. that couldn’t be happening. your highschool sweetheart. your first kiss, your first- well everything. sure he was mean, a tiny bit abusive but he was yours. or so you thought.

“what do you mean pops? he- he can’t be. there’s no way”

you stumble back but before you fall, bobby’s arms are around you.

“i know kiddo. i know. but hey, maybe it’s better this way huh?”

his hands are wiping the tears you didn’t realize were falling. you had so many questions, did he really love me? how could he move on? why did he never reach out? well maybe it’s because he was too busy out getting some skank pregnant. wait no you can’t think like that, she didn’t do anything to you. it wasn’t like this mystery woman was holding your heart in your hands, no that was that stupid prick Colter.

“who?”

“who what sticks?”

bobby’s eyes look too worrisome. you hate when he gives you those eyes.

“who is he marrying”

bobby sighs, suddenly finding the sticky old floorboards far more interesting than the expression that’s gunna cross your face.

“jo.”

oh that hurt, jo. jo harvelle. your childhood bestfriend. bobby’s grip tightened on you, holding you steady as you go through the waves crashing through you. anger. hurt. betrayal. your dad approaches, seeing the light leave your eyes. he glances at Bobby, sharing a knowing look with him. he wraps his arm around, letting you bid your farewells as he lead you to the truck. as he opened the door for you, you slung yourself into the seat.

“sticks i- i’m sorry”

you wipe the rest of the tears from your face, nodding as you glance around the truck. your eyes get stuck on the polaroid of you & jo. a picture you used to cherish so deeply, but now you’d rather see it cast into the pits of hell. your dad catches what you’re eyes are lingering on as he closes your door. he makes his way around to his side, quickly grabbing the polaroid & stashing it away. he knew when you got told the news things would be different, your pain would be different. Colter was one thing, your highschool sweetheart who never lived up to the ‘sweetheart’ part. the man who made you shed more tears than you ever should’ve, the man who left you alone wondering where he was most nights when he was shacking it up at Harvelles bar, who wouldn’t answer his phone. your dad knew all this, he was the one you called when you couldn’t take it anymore. he was the one who came & picked you up from Colters parents house the night you ended things. the night you found out he cheated. 2 weeks before you left for college. your dad also knew that after you left, there wasn’t a thing he could say or do to make you come back. Jo on the other hand, she was your best friend. practically your sister. there wasn’t a weekend where Jo wasn’t at his house, in his pool, watching you & him work on cars & when you got older the one who helped you sneak those cars out. the one you called when Colter wasn’t treating you right. the one who called you when she knew Colter was at her moms bar. it felt unreal to your father, he couldn’t imagine how you felt.

The hum of tires on asphalt filled the silence as you pulled into the driveway of your childhood home. The house looked the same—warm porch lights glowing, the familiar sight of your first car parked sideways on the side of the house. the garage open, showing the new muscle car your dad must be going nuts over. Jp killed the engine and exhaled deeply. After four years away at college, home felt both comforting and alien.

Inside, you found seemingly nothing changed. the recliner was still the same, the stacks of car manuals everywhere, the coffee cup sized rim indentions on your dads side table, the only different thing was a picture you & your dad took on the 4th of july hanging above the tv stand. you’re standing in a pair of old jean shorts, your red bikini top sneaking out the side of your old worn white t-shirt covered in motor oil. your dad has his signature blue dodgers cap on, his mechanic uniform still clinging to him. laughing right back with you as he holds his belly. Sam took the picture & you were so thankful he did. you carried yourself up to your childhood bedroom, the only thing that changed was the size of the bed. instead of the measly little twin you now were the proud owner of a queen. the sage green comforter looked like a cloud, a dream even.

you dig out a change of clothes, your toiletries & make your way to your bathroom. the peace sign poster you picked out with Jo staring menacingly at you through the reflection. you hesitate for a second before deciding to rip it down. you crumble it up, throwing it in the trash can as you run a hand through your hair. stupid. that’s how you felt. why did you think you’d come back & everything would be waiting for you like the day you left? your eyes longed for tears to fall, you glance up catching yourself in the reflection before you shake your shoulders & sigh. you rip the airport clothes off, turning on a hot shower as you slip in. you hum the tune of an AC/DC song as you lather the soap in your hands & through your hair. you’re back, regardless of how anyone else feels. your got your job back at Bobby’s, you’re finishing your degree this year. everything’s gunna work out. everything’s gunna be fine, but if that was the truth why did you feel as if something was missing?

you get out of the shower, quickly drying off as you throw on a old tank top & a pair of sweats. you towel dry your hair, glancing over to the fogged up mirror as you pull a brush through it. you throw your dirty clothes in your laundry basket as you slide on your slippers. you make your way back to your room, settling down on the bed as you open up your bag.

your dads footsteps tear you from your thoughts, you glance up as he’s carrying a beer. you take it thankfully as he settles beside you on the bed, glancing over at your guitar case.

“you still play sticks?”

you nod, as you take a swig of your beer

“i do. ain’t played as much as id like too with how busy things have been though”

your dad takes a swig of his own beer, he smiles as he says

“well after dinner i want you to play me something”

you smile & nod, you loved playing for your dad. he’s who taught you really, who gave you the guitar you lug around everywhere. you run your fingers absentmindedly across the label of the beer as you think back to the time he gave you the guitar. it was your 11th birthday, the smile he beamed down at you was something you’d never allow yourself to forget. that, that was probably your happiest memory. your dads voice interrupts your thoughts as he says

“well i’ll be out in the garage. we’ll have some company for dinner since i gotta work from home today. you need me you come find me okay sugar?”

you smile to yourself, boy was it great to have someone care so much for you. you were used to just being ignored, not making but 1 singular friend in your years of college. Ashley. she was like a girl you’d never met before, ambitious, smart, beautiful, funny. the sarcasm that girl carried was something unreal. your dad already loved her after meeting her the one singular time he flew out to visit. you plop down on your bed, pulling your phone out as you quickly press ashley’s number. she picks up after the 3rd sing yelling through the phone

“sticks! come back oh god i’ll never make it without you”

sticks? since when did ashley also call you that? what is with everyone wanting this nickname to stick? you roll your eyes at your unintentional pun

“well hello there ash i miss you too” you giggle into the phone

“but no seriously how is it? feel better being at home?”

you bite back the endless trials of emotions you went through today, choosing not to unload the disaster your life’s become in a measly 24 hours. you find yourself picking at the thread of your sweats as you offer small talk, informing her you got your job back at the diner until you graduate. her swearing she’s flying out the second the gets the chance. you giggle & talk as you glance at the clock, you realized you completely lost track of time & you were sure dinner was ready. you hang up, promising you’ll call her after your first day as you make your way downstairs, the scent of ordered in pizza catches your nose as you giggle to yourself. as your feet touch the bottom step your dad turns to you

“well there she is, cmon sticks say hello”

you walk around the doorframe as your heart catches in your throat. Dean. Winchester.

“hey Freud” he greeted, his voice low drawl “long time no see”

“Freud, really?” you arched any eyebrow, meeting his gaze. his green eyes sparkled with mischief, & that smirk — God that smirk — was firmly in place.

“Freud, Jung, whoever you kids are into these days” dean shot back, standing from his place on the couch.

your dad chuckles

“don’t mind him, he’s just mad he’s too old to understand what you’re studying”

you laugh as you shake your head

dean cuts in as he says

“oh i understand it just fine” he said as he walks up to you “it’s all about mommy issues, right?”

you snorted

“i’m studying psychology, not you dean”

your dad burst out laughing, deans smirk faltering for a moment. he gave you an exaggerated bow as he says “Touchè”

as your dad drags dean over to the table you let yourself study his features, he looked the same — rough around the edges but effortlessly put together. his hands calloused & stained in motor oil. the veins prominent as he grabs the pizza box, smiling at something your father said. you quickly averted your gaze, feeling an unwelcomed heat creep up your neck.

“so sticks you nervous bout being back?”

your dad asks

you hesitated unsure of how to answer especially after the whirlwind of emotions you had to overcome today.

“a little. it’s been awhile, you know? i’m used to being busy all the time. having my job back at Pops surely will help though”

“well you’re home now.” your dad said, his voice warm. “relax, eat something other than cafeteria food & maybe give some of your old man here some of that brainiac advice” he beams

“careful” dean adds smirking, “you might open a can of worms with that one if you ain’t careful ‘old man�� “

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smirk that fell on your face. it felt good to be back, banter, baggage & all.

—————————————

by the time you made it to the table you were trying to decide if you could just crawl up to your room or out the window, on the latter they would definitely know something was up. i mean your dad knew, he seen it first hand all day. but dean? no. he could not & would not see you crumble over something like that. it was hard enough to try to keep the actual relationship issues from dean when it happened, he definitely didn’t need the after effects.

you decided what’s the worst that could happen, you’re in your own home. with your father, & really you were just nervous. you did not expect to see dean today, not any day before saturday really. that’s why you find yourself turning to your dad & joking

“i’m surprised the houses still stands after how long i was gone”

“barely sticks” jp jokes as he grumbles “dean here only fixed the roof last week, don’t lean on the railing. it’s a death trap”

“hey that’s quality work” dean protests before taking a bite of his pizza

“quality work” you echoed, eyeing him. “remind me not to hire you when i get my own place.”

dean grins, leaning back in his chair as he wipes the pizza sauce from his lip

“don’t worry. i charge extra for smartasses”

your dad throws him a joking glare as he gets up to fetch some beers, leaving you both alone for the first moment since youve been home. you shift in your seat as you take a bite of your pizza.

“it’s good to see you sticks” dean said, his tone softer now as he catches your eye

you look up, startled by the sincerity in his voice. a small smile fights it way to your lips as you say “you too dean”

for a fleeting moment, you felt as if something electric, & impossible to ignore flashed between you. as quick as the moment appeared it dissolved when your dad breached the door with a huge grin

“beers here”

————————-

[codnriddlewhore]

A/N: guys idk how to make thos links someone teach me plsssss and i hope u like this, i decided to post 2 shorter parts instead of 1 long one, felt nicer. next part is gonna be set some years later and itll be maaaybe a tad bit happier. dont hesitate to say anything, good or bad, mwah

wc: 965

She left earlier, of course.

The day after, to be precise. It was a slow and quiet morning. She felt at peace and torn apart at the same time. Can you feel that way? Maybe like someone that felt content with the way they lived their life, though now being stuck in a tornado.

Tom´s wife was sitting on the breakfast table with one leg propped up on the chair, wearing one of his jumpers and a teacup in her hand, smiling to herself and only having kissed him good morning and asked if he wanted tea. It angered him. Of course it did, she was always and every day the biggest chatterbox in the morning, excited about the day. He sometimes joked that it annoyed him. He hoped she realized the joke. He lived off her feeding him her presence. And who smiles like that, does he have a stain on his tie? Did she pack him heart shaped-sandwiches? I mean what else could´ve-

“Why aren´t you getting dressed? We`ve got to leave in-“

He checks his watch.

“exactly 13 minutes. I love you, but I know you wouldn´t make it.

She looks up from her tea, smiling again. He could sense it wasn´t the adorable type, it made his stomach turn. Something was wrong.

Well of course something was wrong Riddle, you´re ignoring the fact that you weren´t able to breath after the argument last night and that, you incontrollable child threw up all over the fucking bathroom you-

“Oh Minerva took the 2nd years to Hogsmeade for the morning, got 3 free periods.”

Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. You never lie to me, you´ve never lied to me- What did I do, please, I´m begging you to go back day before yesterday with me I can´t fucking stand this

Of course he knew what he did, though did it deserve such a reaction? From both of them?

She stands up, gets very close to him and musters a real smile, one that made her eyes really small and showed her gums. It took all of her willpower left to do so. For him, It made his before mentioned train of thought stop.

Okay, of course it´s still her. It´s his wife.

She straightens his wobbly tie, there was no need to do so on other mornings. Another look in his eyes, knowing she´s the probably the only person that will see the truth in them. The fear. The other wobbly thing in the room were his legs when she kissed him, deeply, not hungry, but lovingly and meaningfully.

“Be nice. They´ll love you”

“Pfft, absolutely, don´t they always?”, he didn´t want to make a joke in such a moment but I guess he felt human, wanting to lift the atmosphere.

In the years after, they´d both remember this moment countless of times, she grinning like a child that remembered their last cool birthday party and he as in the objectively worst choice of words he ever made.

It was time, she felt it in the air. She'd die otherwise. Her to-do-list was now fairly simple, though the circumstances added some points.

pack Cry Put music on to distract Sob Pack Unpack Sob Look forward to life Pack Leave her faveorite blanket. He secretly thinks it´s fluffy. He gets cold easily. cry Cry happy tears because how fortunate is she to have spent 3 years with such a magnificent person. Pack Write note Cry but just a tad Breathe. Make tea. Put a lid on his cup so it stays hot. Breathe Smile Leave

Tom came home early. Who fucking cares about the pre-OWLs, he knows there´s the quidditch finale tonight and no one will concentrate. 1st day after Christmas break, whose idea was that.

Was she still in the school? He didn´t see her, though he didn´t particularly go look for her, he knows when to back off. She sometimes “regenerated” in her own space.

He got comfortable in his house and went into the ki- Did he forget his tea this morning? Seems unusual.

a note.

No.

In a pace an Olympic fast-walker would be jealous of, he makes his way to the library and sits down in the old, brown leather chair. His eyeballs hurt from his palms pressing into them, a strategy from the orphanage when he was first mocked for crying, it prevented the tears wonderfully. Tom sat like that for a few minutes, his left leg bouncing up and down and increasing in speed.

No.

Abruptly Tom stands up and walks over to the bookshelf with her little detective novels and big encyclopedias on algae and what not. His shaking hand pulls one out, the title doesn´t matter. He stares at it. He smells it. It doesn´t smell like her, at all. Why would it? It´s just a book. Was she real?

From his mouth comes not a growl, not a scream, what is it? He simply knows he hasn´t made that noise in a very long time and it almost accurately described his emotions. Almost. Nothing ever really will, he believes, though he´ll find a word for word description of his thoughts many years later. The book is now in about 14 pieces, torn apart, unreadable. Something wet runs over his hot cheeks. The knee-part of his grey slacks is ruined by the wet grass. He thought he´d suffocate inside.

Dearest Tommy,

I think I said everything I meant last night, though my devotion to you is hard to word.

You are the most precious, wonderful thing that has happened to me.

I want you to accept yourself.

To see yourself as I do.

You´re too much of a gift to existence and love in general to reduce yourself to a cause.

I love you, my Darling.

There were a few more words in between, but the tear stains made them unreadable. He´d get to reading it at some point. Maybe.

[mrsnerdygirl]

I was thinking right now about how sad it is that Harry never properly celebrated his birthday. You know how we go all out on children's birthdays, inviting people and making theme parties, well Harry never had that .

On his first birthday, he celebrated over a small tea "party" , with his parents and Bathilda, with no other family members and friends around . In her letter , Lily said that it was okay since he wouldn't remember, and while she was right , the fact that it was his first and last birthday with his parents and it wasnt even proper, saddens me so much .

Growing up i know for a fact that the Dursleys didn't celebrate his birthday. Remember when he went to Hogwarts and for Christmas they send him a single toothpick ? What about Dudley's hand-me-downs? Sometimes i actually think that they didnt even tell him untill he started attending kindergarten, or sometime earlier when his birthday was . I belive that it was easier that way for them , not having to bother with his questions , but of course when Harry saw that there were no children like him , with no parents, loved ones , or idea as to when they were born , he started asking questions.

Something that i had forgotten about , and only remembered when i reread Chamber of Secrets, is that for his birthday, Harry sang to himself the Happy Birthday song, and that broke my heart . Just thinking about how many times he had to do that because noone cared is terrible.

The fact that the second birthday cake he ever got was when he was eleven , a grown boy, is even worse .

On the third book , he doesnt even recall it being his birthday, he completely forgets about it , that's how little birthdays mean to him .

"He never got to celebrate a birthday with Sirius" , now that line destroyes me, because i know sirius felt terrible for missing his godson's birthday, and i also know that getting a letter saying Happy Birthday, is all Harry wanted , because growing up he didnt even get as much as that .

His sixteenth birthday was the only one that came closest to a nice celebration, Harry had Remus , the Weasleys, so practically most of his loved ones , but i know for a fact that not having Sirius there , and having lost him just a month ago tore the boy to pieces. There was a war going on and he wasnt safe , especially at that time, so of course it wasnt the best , and in my opinion what he deserved.

On his seventeenth , he was worrying about the fact that in a week he would be god knows where , doing god knows what . Voldemort was more powerful than ever, and i think that the only time he was a little at peace was when Ginny gave him her present . It was the first time Harry didnt mention the war , or the deaths of people , or his approaching death , he was at peace and that was short lived because he got into a fight with Ron and then he was feeling miserable because reality hit him harder than ever , he realised he didnt have a future ahead, and that this could be his last birthday for all he knew.

When he finally started enjoying his day , the minister arrived and ruined everything. After he left so had some of the guests, and the ones that were left seemed to feel uncomfortable.

Im sure that when the war was over , he didn't celebrate his birthday, i dont think he cared much , especially knowing what happened just a couple of months ago and how selfless he is .

So knowing that today he is celebrating makes me feel good . Knowing he has a family now , and that there is no ministry or Voldemort chasing his guests away is amazing. If anyone deserves a good birthday, that person is Harry James Potter.

[inawickedlittletown]

All I Want For Christmas Is You (BuckTommy) - 2/5

Summary: When Buck and Tommy pick each other for the 118's Secret Santa, they both realize they know nothing about each other. That changes very quickly. Words: 2.9k Rating: M Read on Ao3 Chapter One

-

Chapter Two

Buck was far drunker than he’d expected to be by the time they were leaving the bar. Hen and Karen walked ahead of him. Hen was giggling and Buck didn’t think he’d ever seen her like that before. Karen seemed very amused by it. He stumbled a little on his next step and was surprised when a hand grabbed his arm. 

“Careful, Evan,” Tommy said. 

Buck leaned into his touch and heard Tommy chuckle, but he also didn’t let Buck go. Also, he smelled really good and Buck might have lost a few minutes just trying to get a closer whiff. 

“Are you smelling me?” Tommy asked with a laugh and oh, that sounded nice. 

It had sounded nice all night to hear Tommy laugh and to watch the way that his nose scrunched up. He was funnier than Buck had expected, but in a dry way that made a lot of sense for Tommy. All night, Buck had felt like he was seeing a different side of Tommy and yet somehow none of it actually led to him figuring out what to get him for Christmas. 

“Sorry,” Buck said. “Just…you smell really good.” 

Tommy chuckled. “Thank you.” 

When Buck took a glance around again, he realized that Hen, Karen, and Chim were gone. 

“Where did everyone go?” 

“Karen is driving Chim home. You and I are taking an Uber, remember?” 

That did sound right. Karen hadn’t had more than the initial beer and that had been hours ago and since Chim lived close enough to them they had decided he would go with them. When discussing if it made sense for her to also drive Buck and Tommy home, they had both said they’d get an Uber. Somehow, that had turned into sharing one and Buck didn’t quite know how they had gotten there, but he didn’t mind. 

A car beeped at them and then pulled over beside the curb. 

Karen rolled down the window. “You okay to handle him, Tommy?” 

“Yeah. We’ll be alright. Have a good night.” 

“Good night,” Karen said. 

“Good night,” Buck repeated and waved. 

He heard Tommy chuckle. 

“What?” Buck asked. 

“Nothing. Our car should be here in a minute. We’ll go to yours first.” 

Buck didn’t want that. The party was still going, would probably go for a few more hours and then when it was finally over the house would be one giant mess. It would be loud and some of them would be smoking weed stinking up the place and the last thing that Buck would be getting is sleep. Or peace. And come morning, he’d see the discarded bottles and cans and the spills and the remnants of a party and he just wouldn’t be able to relax even though it wasn’t even his mess. 

He would clean it. Buck knew it. His roommates knew it. Everyone knew it. That was part of the problem because before this past shift began, Buck had gone on a bit of a deep clean. The kitchen, the bathrooms, the floors…he’d cleaned it all. Maybe he’d been hoping that he and Connor could go out and get a tree and maybe some decorations. Some lights for outside too. A nice wreath. That was not going to happen. 

“Evan?” Tommy asked. 

Buck loved the way that Tommy said his name. Most of the time he called him Buck just like everyone else, but when he was talking directly to him — rare that it happened — he usually used ‘Evan’ and Buck hadn’t known that he’d missed someone using his first name. He didn’t even think that was what it was as much as it was the caress that Tommy gave his name when he said it even though he didn’t like Buck. 

“I don’t want to go home,” Buck informed him.

He didn’t know what Tommy would do about it. Nothing, probably. Buck’s problems were his own and Tommy didn’t even like him anyway. Except that…well, he was thinking that he might have been wrong about that. 

“The party?” Tommy asked. “Isn’t it probably over by now? It’s after midnight.” 

Their car pulled up. Buck barely paid attention as Tommy helped him into the backseat, climbing in next to him. Tommy buckled him in and Buck was distracted by Tommy’s hands. They were big and capable and one moment they were close enough to touch Buck and the next they were gone. 

“Skip the first stop,” Tommy said to the driver. 

-

Tommy had gotten himself a small Christmas tree. It was about four feet tall. He’d strung a strand of lights on it and they blinked from multi-colored to white. The star shone with white lights. Tommy had put it on a timer so it turned on at sundown and turned off a little after 2am. There was nothing else about his house that was festive and maybe it did look a little sad tucked in between houses lit up in Christmas lights. Tommy just didn’t see the point. That didn’t change that he kind of loved his little Christmas tree. 

Seeing the light of his Christmas tree reflect on Evan as they entered the house made him pause for a moment. It was truly unfair how pretty Evan was. 

“It’s so tiny,” Evan said when he spotted the tree. “Why doesn’t it have any ornaments?” 

He’d sobered up some on the trip to Tommy’s house, but it didn’t change that Evan was still drunk. Tommy was a little tipsy as well, but he was aware enough to know that bringing Evan home with him was probably a bad idea. 

It was just that Evan had looked downright sad at the idea of going home and Tommy just hadn’t had it in him to just leave Evan where he didn’t want to be even if it was where he lived. So, he was impulsive and figured Evan could sleep it off on the pull out.

Evan walked over to the tree, peering at it, before looking back at Tommy. He was adorable. Tommy had made himself not see it for so long, that it was hitting him even harder.

“I’m going to get you some sheets and a pillow. Make yourself at home, Evan. There’s water in the fridge.” 

When he returned, Evan was still staring at the tree. 

“You need ornaments,” he told Tommy very seriously. 

“Maybe,” Tommy conceded. 

He walked around Evan to the couch. Evan was smaller than him in bulk, but Tommy had fallen asleep on that couch enough times that he knew it wasn’t too uncomfortable except that both he and Evan were too tall to sleep on a couch. He plopped the folded blanket and sheets on the coffee table. 

“You’re lucky I have a pull out,” Tommy informed him. 

“I’m not tired,” Evan announced. 

“No, but you are drunk,” Tommy said. 

Evan wasn’t unsteady on his feet any longer, and he was all legs so he took a couple of strides to get to the couch and sit down on it before Tommy could take off the cushions to open it up. 

“Why don’t you like me?” Evan asked, blue eyes wide and unblinking, his head tilted to the side. 

“What makes you think I don’t like you?” Tommy asked and if the floor would open up underneath him and swallow him, it would have been a good moment for that to happen. “I like you just fine, Evan.” 

Evan shrugged his shoulders. “If you say so.” 

“I do,” Tommy said. “Would I have brought you to my house tonight if I didn’t like you?” 

Evan seemed to suddenly realize where he was and his cheeks went a little pink. “Oh,” he said. “Thanks.”

“It’s late and we’re both a little drunk still. I’m going to get you some water and then we’ll get the pull out ready for you.” 

When he finally made it to his bedroom, Tommy felt ready to just flop down on his bed and pass out. He was very aware of Evan downstairs on the pull out tucked in with one of Tommy’s pillows under his head. Tommy had meant to lend him some pajamas, but instead Evan had discarded his button down and pants without much care before he crawled onto the pullout. It had been difficult to look away and then Evan had smiled at him once he was under the sheets and blanket. 

“Good night, Evan,” Tommy had offered. 

“I like it,” Evan said, then. 

“Like what?” 

“The way you say my name,” Evan said. “Night, Tommy.”

-

Buck couldn’t sleep. He’d woken up to a noise and ever since then, sleep had just not seemed to come. He was in Tommy’s house on Tommy’s pull out couch and he couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t fully dark in the living room, light coming in through the windows from the streetlamps and the neighboring houses’ Christmas lights. Buck didn’t even think it was that, as much as how he was sort of surrounded by Tommy’s things in Tommy’s house and how the pillow he’d been given smelled like Tommy. It was entirely too distracting. 

He turned from one side to the other and tried every trick that normally got him to sleep, but he just couldn’t. The pull out wasn’t even uncomfortable. Whatever level of drunk he’d been earlier in the night, the little sleep he’d had had probably taken care of some of it. He didn’t even really have a headache but maybe that was to do with how Tommy had made him take some ibuprofen before he went to bed. 

Buck didn’t know how much longer he lay there before he pushed off the blanket and sheets, before standing. Suddenly, he had an idea. He was in Tommy’s house and maybe he could look around and figure out if there was something he needed or was missing. Maybe what he might be interested in, even. 

He turned the light on. The living room was spacious. It should have fit more than the tiny tree, but Buck still thought it was cute. Tommy had a couple of armchairs, a coffee table that had been moved out of the way of the bed, bookshelves, and a large TV. 

Buck went to the bookshelves. Was Tommy a reader? 

The books varied. The lowest shelf had what looked to be flight manuals and other books on planes and helicopters alike. The next one looked to be a mixture of more books and a lot of DVDs. The middle shelf had a few random things. A model helicopter next to a cookie jar in the shape of a penguin. Next to that a rainbow flag sticking out of a small vase. In the same vase was a paint brush, brush end pointed out. The shelf above that held more DVDs and the one above was empty. 

It gave nothing for Buck to go off of. Except maybe he liked helicopters and planes? Could Buck find him a book he didn’t already own on that subject? That was an option for sure. He also seemed to own a lot of movies. 

Buck grabbed his phone off the bedside table and took a picture of the entire bookshelf. This was at least something to go off of. He might need more. 

Tommy had gone up the stairs to his bedroom, so Buck felt like he could probably get around the first floor without bothering him. So, he went to the kitchen. 

It was really nice. Clean granite countertops, white cabinets, stainless steel appliances. Nothing about it gave him any personality. Buck opened the cabinets. Found a few plates, some cups, a few mugs, protein powder mixed in with snacks. In the fridge he found a carton of eggs, sparkling water, regular water, left over pizza, and three cupcakes. 

“Still, you remain a mystery,” Buck said as he closed the door. 

In the freezer there was ice cream. At least now he knew that Tommy liked dark chocolate ice cream. That probably meant that he liked chocolate in general and also just sweets going by the cupcakes. What if he just got him a bunch of chocolate? 

The first floor had a bathroom and another room. It was supposed to be a dining room, probably, but when Buck turned on the light he gasped. Two easels sat with bare canvases. A couple of tables pressed against the furthest wall had art supplies. Against the other wall were completed paintings, a bunch of them leaning against each other. Just a quick glance was enough to amaze him. Had Tommy made those? Was he some kind of artist? 

Buck crossed the room to the paintings, started going through them. Some of them were very abstract, the colors vivid and standing out against each other but just odd. Eyes in odd places with tunnels and wide open mouths with too sharp teeth. A few paintings of flowers with faces at their centers. A few helicopters. Fire engines. The backs of firefighters walking towards a blaze. Rainbows that looked like the single bright spots in a few paintings. 

Mixed in were ones that made Buck blush. They were practically pornographic. Men with muscles bulging, their six packs expertly painted and then muscular legs, the groins almost always covered by something be it a hat or hands or in one case a leaf. Once the head of another man and Buck didn’t have to guess what it was depicting. 

He’d done some landscapes as well. The ocean with the clouds shot with purples and pinks and a ship off in the distance. A dense forest with the moon hanging overhead. Then, there was a headshot of what seemed to be a self portrait. Tommy. Tommy except there was something missing to really capture him. 

So, Tommy was an artist. Buck would have never thought it and yet it made sense. Everyone needed an outlet and apparently this was Tommy’s. 

Buck looked at his supplies. Acrylic paint and loads of it. Brushes in little pen holders. Colored pencils and a pile of sketchbooks. He grabbed one and opened it to find quick sketches of what seemed to be anything and everything. A stray cat. The start of a person but no defining features. Half a face. Just eyes and eyes and eyes. The back half of it got interesting. 

“Huh,” Buck said. 

He could tell that the sketches had been done quickly and they were hardly explicit, there was just something about the implication that made them, if anything, sexier. It was all men. A single man or two men and Buck went back to the start when he finished them because wow, Tommy was talented. 

Buck heard a noise. The creak of a floorboard. 

He closed the sketchbook and placed it where he’d found it. He turned off the light and then had to turn back to grab his phone from where he’d left it. Something told him that Tommy wouldn’t be happy if he found Buck there. 

“Evan?” Tommy’s voice asked and then there he was standing in the doorway. 

In the dark, he seemed even bigger and he stepped in, turning the light on. Buck was sure he looked ridiculous standing in Tommy’s art room in only his underwear. 

“What are you doing in here?” Tommy asked, stepping inside. He was in pajama pants that hung low on his hips, shirtless. 

The remains of a dark scar rested over his ribs, and Buck wanted to know how it had gotten there. His pecs were defined and his stomach was toned. Muscular. There was a smattering of hair on his chest and over his bellybutton heading down into his pants. Tommy looked sleepy, too. Hair mussed and his eyes squinting in the light. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” Buck said and motioned around him. “You’re an artist.” 

Tommy shrugged. “I dabble.” 

“Dabble? No. You’re really good. Like this stuff should be displayed somewhere. I, uh, I looked through your sketches too. They were—” Buck’s face felt a little warm. 

Tommy stepped closer. “What?” he asked. 

“Interesting,” Buck said. “You really captured the human form.” 

Tommy hummed. “Male bodies,” he said. 

Tommy was closer, he could see a glint in his eyes, a question in them too. Buck knew when someone wanted him. He knew what it looked like to have someone desire him and that was what was in Tommy’s eyes. It was cautious though and Buck…well, Buck was impulsive. He was captivated. He hadn’t known that he could be into a dude. Into Tommy. Except…well, he couldn’t look away from Tommy as Tommy came closer. 

“Evan,” he said. 

Buck gasped. Oh, he really did like the way that Tommy said his name. Tommy closed the last few feet between them, but he faltered and it was Buck who surged forward, hands going to Tommy’s hips as he pressed their lips together. Something happened in that moment. It was his whole world taking a tumble and changing. A part of him opening a door and stepping through because this was who he was and it was what he wanted. 

Tommy kissed him back. His hands cradled Buck’s face and he kissed him deeply, took his breath away and just made Buck lose all thought. 

Tommy’s skin was soft and warm and Buck wanted to keep touching him, his hands travelled up his back, feeling his sinew and muscle and happy when it brought him even closer to Tommy as they just kept kissing and kissing and kissing. 

When they pulled away, Buck refused to let him go. 

He felt the way that Tommy’s thumbs moved over his skin. 

“Was that…was that okay?” 

“Better than,” Buck said. 

[writingsbychlo]

UNDER THE MISTLETOE (day eight)

summary; on your final day, you and az spend some time with kallias, while vivianne plans a party and a few surprises.

word count; 8848

notes; the last part!! I hope you guys love it 🤍

The hustle and bustle of the palace had been apparent from the very moment that you’d opened your eyes this morning. Azriel had been curled around you when you woke up, soft whispers of good mornings until the two of you had been ready to get out of bed. Now, as you stood at the bottom of the main stairway, staring in shock at the flurry of motion and hustle of workers, you felt like that peaceful morning had been years ago.

“What…”

“Viv.” You both jumped as Kallias appeared beside you, slipping out from the corridor beside the stairs and clutching a mug of tea in his hands, still steaming. He looked even more shocked and frazzled than the both of you, eyes wide as you stared out at the crowds. “Viv is throwing you a party.”

“Why?” The words tumbled from Azriel faster than you could process the statement, a giggle leaving you as you nudged him with your elbow for his brashness. As though sensing herself about to be teased, Vivianne wove through the crowds, steely gaze fixed on her husband, whose eyes only widened when he saw her.  

“Shit, I—” 

“Kallias!” She did not seem pleased, and his spluttering came to a halt as she stopped before the three of you, one hand coming to rest on her hip as the other clutched a clipboard. “You said you were going to get more berries!”

“I think we have enough berries.” 

She only scowled, a look flashing across her face that told all three of you the berry debate wasn’t over. When her attention moved to the both of you, her expression became far sunnier. “It was brought to my attention last night that we didn’t have a Christmas party! You can’t not have a Christmas party at your first Christmas.”

“It was a joke,” Kallias grumbled the words into his tea, sipping from him and wincing. 

“A joke I’m taking seriously.” She pinched his cheek, and he only scowled deeper. “Plus, it was a challenge, and I never turn down a challenge. You told me there was no way I could get a whole Christmas party together in less than a day. Well, not only can I do it, it’s going to be a fantastic party, at that.”

“Viv, you really don’t have to do that for us.”

“Oh, this party isn’t for you two, anymore,” Kal sighed, turning to face you both and shrugging. “This party is purely for my wife, at this point.”

“You won't have a wife if you keep up all this attitude.” She sniped, and he finally smiled at that. 

“Uh-huh, sure.” He looped an arm around her, pulling her into him until her clipboard was pressed to his chest, and he left a wet kiss on her cheek. “You’re not going anywhere, so I’m going to keep complaining.”

Wiping at her cheeks, she was doing nothing to hide her blush or her smile, as she softened against him and kissed his cheek in response. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I love you too, snowflake.” With a final kiss to her lips, Kallias let her go, leaving a less than discrete tap on her ass as she walked away again, and you chuckled, turning to hide your expression in Azriel’s shoulder. When you emerged again, his attention was on the two of you. “While Viv takes care of everything else, it’s my job to distract the two of you today. You can’t be here in the ‘prepping area’.”

“So, we’re going out?” Excitement raced through you at the chance to get a little more sightseeing done before you left, your only regret is not having gotten enough in before it all to see everything. You would have to come back for sure. 

“We are.” Scanning his gaze over you both, Kal smirked. “You two might want to change, we’re going to do some manual labour today. You’re gonna’ be busy and cold.”

You idled for a second longer, before he was ushering you back up the stairs, telling you to be back in ten minutes. The pair of you stumbled over your own feet, giggling as Azriel compared him to Cassian on a training day, and falling back in fits of laughter against the door of your room. 

“So, can I at least get away with wearing my leathers for this?”

“No!” Your giggles were renewed, standing up to point at him as you wandered over to the packed cases sitting at the base of the bed, knowing you were going to have to gently unpack them to find some warmer clothes again. “Not the leathers!”

“What’s wrong with them? You’re going to have to get used to them, baby. I mean— I really don’t know how you haven’t already, it’s been—” You spun to him, throwing your jumper at him as you stripped it over your head in order to add some more layers underneath first. “Hey!”

“There’s nothing wrong with the leathers, that’s the whole point!”

“That’s the whole point?” He echoed, balling up the fabric and throwing it back at you with force. “Oh, I get it. Do my leathers distract you, baby? I did tell you they made my ass look good.”

“Go and get changed!” Your cheeks warmed, shaking your head at him and shooing him out of your bedroom, into his own, the door slamming on his laughter. 

He had his own cases, and you rifled through your own, sorting for jeans and layers and thicker socks, until you had a pile to change into, and had to refold everything back up, including the outfit you’d already chosen. You’d barely finished getting dressed again when the door reopened, and you nudged your re-packed bag back under your bed with your foot.

When Azriel reemerged, your mouth went a little dry at the sight of him. Adjusting his collar, his head was tucked down, and you were given a chance to observe him. He had donned the leather pants of his training gear, tucked snug around his thighs and into his boots, one of his siphons now clipped onto his belt. Two sat over the backs of his hands in their straps, half covered by the sleeves of his thick flannel coat. With a dark grey long-sleeve underneath, the shades of pale blue threaded through the fur-lined jacket were a startling contrast to his usual moody outfit choice, and your mouth dried out.

He looked like he was glowing in the Winter scenery. 

“What?”

His head snapped up, and you wondered how he’d known you were staring, preparing to look away, before the flustered haze cleared for just a second. You’d likely been sending him all of those astonished feelings down the bond, and it was that bond that meant you were absolutely allowed to check him out, whenever you damn well pleased.

“Seriously, what is it?”

“I’ve never seen you in that jacket before.” Your throat felt dry, and you swallowed a couple of times, taking a few steps closer to him. He raised his hands, waiting for you to walk into them so he could settle them on your hips. 

“I bought it for this trip. There’s a lot of outfits I didn’t get to wear, we’ve spent considerably more time out of our clothes than in them.” You grinned, running your hands up his forearms, and scanning your gaze over him once more. He tensed a little, flexing the longer you stared, and you bit your lip. “You’re checking me out.”

“Yeah, and what of it? You’re hot, and you’re mine.” Reaching one hand behind him, he jumped as you grasped at a handful of his ass, his cheeks going red. “Turn around so I can check out the rest of you.”

“Only if you’ll do the same for me.” His sultry whisper lost all effect as his blush remained, and you pat the same cheek you’d grabbed, before pulling your hand back to his hip. He’d managed to do up the buttons under his wings himself this time, likely to avoid becoming the same wobbly-kneed mess you’d reduced him to last time as he fought all these new instincts that same way you were. “Kiss me?”

“You don’t even have to ask.” You mumbled, leaning up enough to meet him halfway, clashing together in the middle. 

It was messy, and lazy, and so sweet that your heart skipped a beat. His lips were in languid drags over your own, noses bumping with the occasional breaths taken. Sliding his hand under your thick jumper, you shivered at the brush of the cold metal of his clasp on your skin, pulling back with a gasp and pressing into his hand more. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this.”

“I hope you do. I hope you start to see my kisses as a part of your everyday life, I hope you grow to expect them, I hope—” You cut him off with another kiss, grinning against his lips as he returned it more than eagerly, chasing you again when you pulled away. 

“I get it. You’ll be there every time I need a kiss.”

“Every time.” He promised, stealing one final one, before stepping back. “I believe we still have two minutes to spare.”

“There’s no way we’ve been less than ten minutes.”

“I thought he said twenty… we’re definitely late.” He tipped you up under your chin, pecking the tip of your nose, before running his sights over you. Snatching up the scarf he’d gifted to you, he looped it around your neck, before plopping a bobble hat haphazardly and half-over your eyes, and deeming it a job well done. 

Taking your hand in his as he grabbed both of your sets of gloves, you grinned, digging your heels in and failing to slow him down at all. “Wait, what about your other siphons, you’ve only got three on!”

“I’m not gonna’ need the other ones. I think we’ve expelled enough energy over the last few days that I’m still drained.” At your shock, he managed to tug you along further, out of the room and into the halls. He glanced at you over his shoulder, “I don’t know how you’re even walking, I clearly haven’t been fucking you good enough.” 

“Az!” Your head whipped around, looking for any other people in the halls, grateful to find them empty. 

“What? It’s true! I’ll have to do something about that later.”

You weren’t sure your cheeks could get any hotter without you catching fire, and you squeezed his hand in your own, only earning a head-tipping laugh in response. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I want you to remember those words, and scream them later tonight.”

“Oh, for—” 

Kallias was standing at the bottom of the stairs, leaning on the railing with his arms crossed. He had also changed, swapping out for a thick coat and some sturdy jeans and boots, his white brows furrowed as he watched you both come down the stairs. “You’re late! Luckily for you both, I happen to be quite fond of you, so I’ll let it slide.”

At his words, you grinned, but Azriel’s shoulders locked a little and his wings ruffled pridefully, his eyes widening as Kallias turned his back, motioning for the two of you to follow. He glanced at you, seeming shocked at such an open affirmation of friendship, and you could only smile. One day, Azriel would see just how loveable he was to everyone else, when he let those guarded walls down. 

Connecting bit!!

There was a carriage waiting for you outside, and you slid into it, Azriel sliding in beside you, and you leaned forwards, making space for his wings to stretch out, before sitting back and nestling into his side instead. 

“So, I thought we might start with some charity work.” As the carriage kicked into gear, Kallias decided to finally tell you both what you’d be doing with the day, and your interest was piqued. “There’s a shelter in the city for children on the other side of the events of the Mountain and the War, I volunteer there every year. Viv did it during the time I was away, for all the children whose parents were trapped with me.”

His attention was fixed out of the window, throat bobbing as he spoke, and your eyes were wide at such a confession. “Kal… We don’t want to intrude. If you want to go alone, we can find something else to do with our day.”

Reaching out, he caught your hand, squeezing it as he turned back to face you, eyes a little glassier than they had been. “No, I’d like it if you’d come. I want to share this with friends.”

“Then we’re happy to be a part of it,” Azriel promised, the two men sharing a smile, before Kallias cleared his throat and looked back to the passing scenery. 

“I thoughts afterwards we could go and get some lunch. You’re likely just to get nibbles at the party, Viv loves that whole finger-food party thing, she never misses a chance for it.” He smiled at the thought of his wife, “Then we can see how much time we have left, maybe see a carol service.”

When you finally pulled up to a stop, it was in front of a large cathedral-like building, with stained glass windows and tall spires, but it looked far more modern, like it had been recently converted. Only when you stepped out of the carriage were you able to truly appreciate its grandeur, letting out a low whistle at the sight. 

“It used to be a part of the priestess’ worship, but it fell into a lot of disrepair during those fifty years. Services weren’t so popular, people struggled to find their faith when everything seemed so bad. The priestesses moved back to the temples. Viv fixed it up, and made it into a shelter instead for anybody who needed it.” The doors were pinned open, lots of people spilling in and out as you passed them by carrying boxes of donations, offerings of food, or coming for help. 

You made an extra mental note to show your memories of it to Rhysand and Feyre when you got home, to perhaps install something similar in Velaris. Guiding you up several sets of stairs inside to reach the main floor, you were surrounded by tables filled with things to be out sorted, even more laying on the floor underneath, with runners taking things out as more came in. It was a truly impressive service. 

“This is the donations centre. Everything that comes in needs sorting through, everyone here is volunteers.” Patting an empty table, Kallias lifted two heavy boxes onto the space. “I’ll leave you two here, I’m going to go and help out at the food station downstairs. I’ll be back in a little while. If you run out of boxes… well… you won't.”

Looking around, a chuckle spilt from Azriel’s lips as he did the same, noting the piles of things from floor to ceiling, wobbling precariously. 

“Who are they?” Azriel pointed over toward the fireplace, a collection of what looked o be about ten children sitting around it, games and books and snacks spilt out around them. 

“Uh, might be volunteers children, could be kids of the shelter.” He shrugged, a saddened look taking over his face, and Azriel glanced at them again, his frown matching. “Alright, I’ll come back to check on you guys in a little bit.”

He waved as he went, disappearing out into the halls again, and you took up a place behind the table, Azriel falling into step beside you, leaving a kiss on your cheek as he did. 

“I love you.”

Your lips flicked up at the edges, tearing open the first sealed-up box, and turning to face him as he did the same. “Yeah? What’s brought that on?”

“Just, y’know, it’s our vacation, and you’re happy here working at the volunteer shelter, instead of sightseeing and all that. I wish the kids at the camps had something like this, I wish I’d had something like this when I was young, before I met Cass and Rhys.” Your heart clenched, and Azriel’s jaw rolled a little as he swallowed back emotions. “It feels fitting that the love of my life would be everything I wished I had since I knew what wishing was.”

“I love you, Az. I’m glad we’re here, and I’m glad we’re here together.”

“Me too.” With a simple peck to finish the conversation, the two of you moved on with your work, beginning to clear space for piles, and falling into a good harmony of sorting things into joint piles, making your way through the boxes gathered around your bodies. 

You worked in simple silence, mumbled conversation about anything that came to mind taking place between the two of you, the time flying by as you put your vacation time into something that might just change someone's life, and would certainly make you feel better for taking some time off. 

You waited, your latest dumb questing hanging in the air between you both, and you looked up to see what was taking Azriel so long with his answer, only to find his attention frozen once again, a shirt hanging in his hands to be folded.

This was the fourth time you’d watched Azriel’s eyes flicker towards the group of children gathered around the large fireplace, roasting hazelnuts and marshmallows in the flames. Trepidation and anxiety were strumming at that bond, feelings he didn’t bother to hide from reverberating to you, maybe he didn’t even know he was feeling it. 

When he glanced again, you sighed. Nudging him with your hip, you stole his attention back to you, temporarily. 

“Az?”

“Yeah, baby?” He didn’t look away, he kept working on the box before himself, folding the shirt he’d gotten stuck on and pulling out another item. He continued sorting it into the correct piles, only turning his gaze to you when you stayed quiet this time. “What is it?”

“Maybe you should go check on the kids, they’re all alone over there. Go make sure they’re all okay.”

He twisted, glanced over his shoulder at them, and when he turned back, there was a look in his eyes so full of love it nearly drowned you. With a meaningful nod and a kiss on your forehead, you watched him wander away, wings jerking at the pop of a log and pulling in tightly to his back, before crouching down beside the group of children. 

You couldn't hear him now, but his lips flickered up into a smile at the edges as one of the children offered him a fresh stick with a marshmallow on the end. He settled to kneel properly with them, poking it into the fire. As he watched over them, he helped adjust their grips, subtly pulling all of their little hands further away from the flames, relief beginning to trickle to you instead as he worked, chatting gently with them all as they heeded his advice.

You continued to sort through the boxes, trying to control the racing of your heart and get the work you and Azriel had been set done, all while trying not to miss a single second of his interactions. You watched as he taught them to make smores, sticky marshmallows pressing between chocolatey crackers, and he seemed to be telling them all some kind of story as they giggled and ate. 

When they were finished, he wiped all of their hands and cheeks, chubby-cheeked little ones settling in front of older ones before him, and one pointed at his wings. Flaring one out to the side and away from the fire, and the shouts of awe and wonder reached you on the other side of the room. 

He gave it a flap, strong enough that the hair of those kids in the front row flew out of their faces, dragging laughter from them all, and the look on Azriel’s face only brightened. You didn’t realise you’d stopped working entirely until someone bumped their hip against your own, and you found Kallias at your side, pulling a blanket from the box and folding it neatly. 

“Where’s your other half gone?”

Lifting a hand, you pointed him out by the fire, all the children crowded around him now, one little girl sat across his lap as a young boy clung to his shoulders, barely visibly in the crowd of little ones. 

Sniffling back the emotions welling up at the sight of him, you refocused on the task at hand, only having made it through one of your two boxes. Lifting the empty one to the floor, you and Kal worked silently for a couple of minutes as you gathered yourself, distributing donations to the correct piles. 

When you’d made it through that box together, he disappeared for only a moment, before returning with two more, practically overflowing, for the two of you to work through.

“He’s a good man.”

“He’s the best,” You whispered, plucking a bagful of children-sized clothes that someone had clearly grown out of, and beginning to sort them into various items. “I wish he’d see it in himself.”

“He sees in you that you see it in him, and that’s enough.” Your motions paused as you wrapped your head around his words, glancing up at your friend, who offered a vulnerable smile. You knew how much Rhysand had suffered on the other side of the reign of Amarantha, and how long it had taken your friend to truly recover. Perhaps this one was one of Kallias’ scars, and how he soothed it when the pain flared up.

Turning to him, you couldn't stop yourself from wrapping your arms around his middle, face in his shoulder as you squeezed him tightly. It was unprofessional, especially in front of his court, but Kallias had offered so many painful parts of himself to you today, and you didn’t know what else to do. A hug was the only thing that felt right.

It broke your heart to hear him let out a hurt sound, before wrapping his arms around you just as tightly, breaking those pieces further when he whispered a series of shaky ‘thank you’s into your ear. Your hands stroked up and down his back, his body shuddering a little as you held him. 

“You’re a good man too, Kal. I’m so lucky, for getting to be your friend.”

“It’s me who is the lucky one.” He whispered, giving you one final squeeze before pulling back, his bottom lip trembling a little as he smiled. He busied himself with a stack of jumpers, claiming he needed to take this pile to the clothing tables immediately, and wandering away with a conspicuous sniffle. 

You rubbed at your nose, letting out a watery laugh at yourself, before glancing back at your love. He was already looking at you, brows furrowed, a concerned stroke along the string connection you both to follow. Are you okay? He mouthed the words to you, and you offered a smile, tugging on that string in affirmation, and drawing a smile from him too. 

Another moment longer with the children, and he was standing, brushing off his knees and waving them goodbye, before making his way through the bustling shelter and back towards you. When he was only a few steps away, he lifted his hand, closing it quickly over your cheek and swiping his thumb under your eye, worrying his bottom lip as you leaned further into his palm. 

“What happened, love?”

“Nothing, I swear. I was just having a moment with Kallias, he told me some things about that time, and it made me a little emotional.” He stared, and you twisted your head, kissing over the strap across the centre of his palm. The furrow between his brows loosened, and his shoulders relaxed down, his thumb swiping again. “You looked like you were having fun over there. Make some new friends?”

“They’re just like what I know Nyx will be like soon. So curious about the world, so positive despite everything that's happened. They had so many questions, and they weren’t afraid of me.” He spared a look at them all, watching where they’d gathered once again around the fire, a huddle as one of the older children took the stage to tell tales in Azriel’s place. “It was nice.”

“I bet. You looked so happy.”

“Thank you.” He dipped down, brushing his nose with yours in a ghost of a kiss, and smiling. A throat cleared gently behind you both, and Kallias looked far more composed when you took him in now.

“You two ready to go for some lunch? I think we’ve done enough here for today.”

Kallias led the two of you out, the next stop on your tour being a small-town pub, somehow even smaller than the one you’d visited on your walk. It had a total of six tables, and you were sure Azriel’s wings took up half of the room you were in no matter how tightly he tucked them in to weave through the crowded tables. 

He’d settled eventually, the three of you crowded around a small table, and you were sure you looked like one of the paintings that were hung lopsidedly on the walls. Cheerful people, happy smiles, and for once, a sense of complete normalcy. As the three of you had crowded around a table, cramped in and laughing, you hadn't wanted it to ever end. 

Except, it had only gotten better, you’d gathered in a huddle outside under the snowfall to watch the carol singers in the town square. Azriel’s arms had been wrapped tightly around you from behind, keeping you warm and secure against his chest as Kallias had stood to the side, mouthing words along to beautiful songs you’d never heard before. 

The priestesses who were singing had offered one final blessing to you all, a Christmas prayer that made your eyes water a little. 

In the carriage back, you’d listened to Kallias and Azriel, listened to Az extend his offers for them to come and visit on behalf of Rhysand, and Kallias had only grinned. If it hadn't been for the party you knew you were going back to, it would have been the perfect final day all on its own. 

The moment that you step back through the palace doors, Vivianne is already waiting. The doors to the ballroom had been shut, but you can hear the music loudly on the other side, a band playing upbeat music and the roar of conversation from what must be hundreds of guests, some already spilling out into the hallways. 

“Oh, Gods, Viv!” She only beamed at you, practically bouncing with excitement as she cornered your trio in the doorway. “You went all out, huh?” 

She had changed, the leggings and bun from this morning had been traded from an elegant silk dress and a braid crown, and before she even said the words, you knew what she was going to say. “You have to go and change! Kal, I laid something out for you.”

“Whatever would I do without you, dear?” He pressed a kiss to her cheek as he passed by, waving to you both and disappearing into the mansion, doing well to avoid any guests before he was ready to start mingling. 

“You two have to wear your Christmas jumpers!”

“What? Why?” You dreaded having to wear that itchy thing again, especially to a party, but she wasn’t taking no for an answer, already beginning to shake her head to silence your protests. 

“Ah! It’s a Christmas party for you! You have to wear them, no excuses!” You sighed, and Azriel let out a heavy groan beside you, earning himself a wicked glare from Viv that came with a smirk. “Chop, chop! Go and get ready, and hurry back down. There are people here waiting to see the guests of honour, you know!”

Glancing up at the stairs, you groaned, knowing just how many you’d have to take to get back to your room. 

Dropping your forehead to your lover’s chest as Viv took off after her husband, you burrowed a little closer to him when his arms came up on either side of your body to hold your hips. 

“I don’t think I can take any more stairs, Azzy.”

“S’okay, baby. We can travel my way.” The earth seemed like it melted out from underneath your feet, only to rematerialise a moment later, in the softer hues of your room as the faelights began to warm into life. “How’s that?”

“That’s the exact reason you were made to be my mate.”

“Good to know we’ve solved that mystery.” His drawl made you smile, face still resting in the soft shirt covering the hard muscles underneath, and you didn’t want to ever leave. Azriel seemed to decide for you, pulling back enough to tip your head up, and leave a brief kiss on your lips. “Chin up, baby. You love seeing me in smart clothes.”

“Says who?”

“Says the way I watch you blush every time Rhys makes us dress up for events.” His smirk was far too much for you to take, and you scoffed, pushing him backwards and spinning out of his arms, which only made him laugh. “Don’t be so embarrassed, it was a great ego boost while I was waiting for you. Tell me, what is it about my suits that get you going so much, huh?”

Pushing him back towards his room, he let you do so, but not without giving you the kind of look that made everything in your body ignite. You had to play dirty to win this. “I’ll tell you all about it, when you tell me what it is about sundresses that make you stutter?”

His jaw dropped, eyes widened, and a matching blush spread on his cheeks. 

“Oh, yeah. I know. Now that I think back on all those summers in my summer dresses where you’d be tripping over your own tongue. When I’d catch you staring at you’d tell me you were just checking I was safe, or you thought you saw a bee land on me.” His blush only deepened. “I can’t believe I was so oblivious.”

“Neither can I.” He muttered, eyes scanning down your body to your thighs, where all your little sundresses would usually sit. “Touché, baby, you win.”

“Get used to it.”

He bit his lip, turning away to get changed himself, and the air between you crackled and pulled the further he got, until the mood snapped and you could breathe again. 

With him gone, you were finally able to focus on your preparations, going first to the bathroom to top up your makeup and fix your hair. When you were satisfied with that, you dug out both of your Christmas jumpers from the bags, laying them on the bed neatly. 

Turning your head at the zap along your spine, you found Azriel leaning on the doorframe, smart pants on, shirtless and arms crossed, a soft smile on his face as he watched you. “Stop trying to seduce me.”

“I’m not!”

“That’s a shame, it was working. We should totally ditch the party and stay here so you can fuck me.” His eyes widened, a hopeful look crossing his face, until he watched a smirk form on your lips, and a growl left his. 

“You’re so cruel to me.”

“It almost worked. Next time flex a little, and you’ll have me.” You winked at him as he lifted himself off of the doorway, your attention turning away back to the bed as you got down onto your knees before it. 

“This is the third time we’ve had to get dressed today.” You sighed dragging your suitcase out from under the bed once again, and beginning to sort through the clothes that Azriel had already neatly folded back up twice. So many of the clothes you hadn't gotten a chance to wear, your cases full of new and original items, things you’d bought along the way, the gifts you’d given. Yet, none of them had what you were looking for.

“I promise that the next time we’re up here, I’ll be undressing you.” He leaned over, kissing your shoulder as you stood, hands on your hips. “You won’t need any clothes for what I have planned.”

A chuckle left your lips as you turned to face him. “Have you seen my—”

He held up a soft purple dress with two fingers, brows raising as the soft fabric swayed in the wind. “Your dress?”

“How’d you know that’s what I was looking for?” He only grinned, and you took it from him. 

“You only brought one fancy dress, and I know how much you love it. You wouldn't miss a chance to wear it.” Placing the bed down on the bed, you turned back to him, noting the leather pants had been swapped out for smart dress pants, but the boots remained. He had no shirt on, his themed jumper laying out beside your own, and you ran your hands up his chest. “Are you gonna’ get dressed?”

“Yes.” You whispered, curling a little closer to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He offered a breathy laugh, tucking his arms around your shoulders and dipping his head down to rest his cheek on the top of your head. “I’m just taking a second to be with you first.”

“I know, my love. But we only have tonight with our friends before we go home, we have the rest of our lives together.” Smoothing his hands down your arms, he cupped your elbows, squeezing lightly and leaving a kiss on your head, before easing you backwards. “Come on, let me see you in this pretty dress, so I can get an eyeful before stripping it off you, later.”

“Well, the effect will be entirely ruined by this jumper.” Slipping out of your clothes as you walked, you were painfully aware of the lingering gaze on you, all the way as you stepped into the dress and adjust it across your body. His fingers did the zip up the back, sweeping your hair back over your shoulders, and turning you around. “See? This dress was not made to be covered up with a jumper.”

Azriel’s eyes dipped, a smirk pulling on his lips as she took in the plunging neckline and the tight bodice, his bottom lip pulled tight between his teeth. “No, it most certainly was not. Perhaps you should wear it for our first date.”

“Our first date?”

“Of course.” He reached beyond you, picking up your jumper and lifting it up slowly to hang over your head. “I have to take you on a proper date when we get home, court you properly.”

“Courting is old-fashioned, and to test a connection. I think we both know we have a connection, a pretty damn good one at that.” 

“Let me treat you right, stop making it a challenge.” Easing your arm through each sleeve, you grinned up at him when the collar was around your neck, the jumper settling over your torso. You gave in, a giggle on your lips as he reached for his jumper, tugging it on with much less care than he’d taken with you. He disappeared, for only a second before returning with the only pair of heels you’d brought, one fancy dress and one set of fancy shoes, just in case. 

Dropping to one knee, you balanced yourself on his shoulders, slipping one foot after another into the shoes and letting him fasten them up securely. When he stood back up, you were a few inches closer to his height now, no longer letting him tower over you completely, and you were able to press a kiss to his chin without having to lean too far. 

“Let’s go.”

Your hands wove together, shadows crawling around your bodies, and when the light cleared again, you were back at the entrance to the party, the doors wide open and the noise at full blast once again. 

Viv really had gone all out, faelights twinkled from the ceiling, a full band was playing loudly in the corner as the room was packed with dancing and mingling, a crowded bar taking up almost half of one wall, the queues filling the other half. You spotted more than a few familiar faces with just a single glance; Helion was lounging on a couch in the back, a usual crowd gathered around his charming self as he spun tales and stories, laughter following every word. 

Several more Christmas trees had been set up, and in the back corner, you spotted Thesan lingering near one, his lover close to his side, murmuring into his ear. Tarquin was admiring the snow, Cresseida by his side, and you had to be impressed at how she’d managed to pull all this together. 

“I think half of Prythian is in this room.”

“I can’t even see our actual hosts, can you?” You had to lean closer to one another just to be heard over the music, and you scanned the crowds again, searching for those pale flashes of hair. 

You didn’t find them. 

You found bright red and deep black, blonde and blue and everything in between, even a set of purple eyes, but—

“Az.”

“Yeah?” His head was tipped up, attempting to scan over the people filling the room, and you tugged at his sleeve. 

“Az, that’s Rhys.”

“What?” His head snapped back down, following where you pointed, and the crowds seemed to part a little more for you to be able to see through. As you got a better look, a red dress shone with golden hair, a tall pair of Illyrian wings that were dangerously close to getting tangled in the tinsel of the tree he was half stood behind, and lots of smiling faces. “That’s everyone.”

Your hand squeezed his a little tighter before letting go, a squeal slipping past your lips as you took off through the crowds ahead of him. 

Darting through the busy crowds, all formality and regality were temporarily abandoned. Your friends had already spotted the two of you, had been looking your way since the moment you’d turned your head in their direction, and were beaming as you neared. This was far from the longest you’d been away for work from any of them, but you were ashamed to admit just how little you’d thought of them in the week you’d been gone, it felt more like you hadn't seen them for months with everything that had taken place. 

The first to meet you was Cassian, using his broadness to shove his way to the front, arms opening wide and sweeping you up into a hug, deep laughter rumbling from him and into your ear as your feet slipped from the floor. 

The moment you were put back down, it was to the feeling of shadows swirling at your ankles, crawling happily up your claves to your knees and signalling that their owner had managed to catch up. He barely made it to your side, before Cassian was barrelling forward to sweep him into a hug too, and Feyre was tucking you into her embrace. 

“Fey! Where’s Nyx? Your gaze flickered across the members of the group in search of the boy, to Rhys who was now standing by Azriel, to Nesta and Cassian, Mor and Amren, Elain and even Lucien. None of them were holding him. The woman in your arms chuckled as she pulled away, only to be immediately replaced by Mor. 

“He’s at home, being looked after by Gwyn and Emerie.” There was a tremor to her voice, but she offered a reassuring smile to Nesta, a promise of trust that extended through her to her friends. You know how hard they had worked to reconnect and mend that bond, make it so much stronger than it had ever been before, and this faith was a part of that. You wondered why they hadn't brought him, Nyx had winnowed many times before and would likely have loved the Winter Court, but the question died on your tongue as a warm hand settled on your lower back. 

Leaning a little closer to Azriel, you let go a sigh of relief, the bond still chafing a little at being so surrounded by people and having felt so far from him. 

By the time all the greetings had been achieved, it felt like hours had passed by, and your shoulders slumped, cheeks aching with the smile on your face as they all gathered around. Cassian was busy retelling stories of his week alone training the Valkyries while Nesta smirked into her drink, and you leaned back into the warm touch of Azriel’s hand on your lower back.

You felt him move, like a magnetic pull the closer he got the stronger it felt, until you could picture him clearly leaning down to whisper into your ear, without ever having to turn your focus to him. “I’m going to go and get us a drink. It’s only a matter of time before Cassian starts into the old stories, and I need to be at least halfway drunk to endure those again.”

You bit down on the inside of your lip to keep your laughter inside, that large palm on your back smoothing up along your spine as you let it flood down the bond between your hearts instead. His hand drifted higher still, to tangle into your hair softly and pull you closer, until he could capture your lips in a sweet kiss. 

You swayed into him a little, twisting to place a hand on his chest, a smile forming as you kissed him back at the simplicity of it all, an ‘I’ll see you in a minute kiss’, and it was certainly something you could get used to. 

“Uh, what?”

You snapped back, Azriel’s lips still pouted a little as you pulled away enough to catch his gaze. Rolling them together as he straightened up, your cheeks flushed with heat, and you turned to face your friends. Cassian’s jaw was dropped, matching that of Mor and Feyre, while Lucien and Nesta smirked to themselves, and Rhys sipped his drink, a cheeky look on his face. Elain was merely smiling, a look on her face like she already knew, which she possibly did, if she’d seen it before you’d ever known it would happen. 

“Since when?” Cassian demanded, a frown taking over his lips as he planted one hand on his hip, the other clutching his drink, and Nesta hid her laugh in his bicep as her face pressed into his arm. 

“I’m gonna’ leave this one to you, baby.” With another quick peck, Azriel spun away and disappeared into the crowds before you could even splutter out a response to stop him. 

“Baby?” Feyre squeaked, only seeming to get more and more excited as Rhys wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her closer to his side. “Explain! Now! That’s an order.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, High Lady.” You scoffed, and she giggled, but the anticipation and eagerness of them all were hanging over your head like rain clouds. “Azriel and I are… together.”

“It’s a solstice, sorry, Christmas miracle.” Rhysand teased, his smirk only growing fuller. 

“‘Bout damn time!” Cassian’s yell drew the attention of those around you, various heads turning in your direction, and his mat pinched at his ribs roughly, smile now a scowl as she flushed with embarrassment at all the odd looks cast her way. He swatted at her hand, but never stopped smiling. “So you’re just together?”

“Yes, we’re together. In the same way… you all are.” You cringed a little, unsure why it felt so hard to say the words to them all, why your throat felt like it was closing up. 

The uproar started once again, an amused tug echoing in your chest as you glanced around the room, locking eyes on him stood at the bar, waiting patiently for your drinks. He leaned on one elbow, not even bothering to hide his grin, and you shook your head at him. A feeling that you hoped was flipping him off was sent back, and you swore you could hear his laugh from here. Perhaps it was the question of whether it had always been so obvious, to everyone except for you, whether they’d known all along. 

Without turning back to them, holding Azriel’s gaze across the room, your own smile formed. “Azriel and I are mates.”

“I fucking told you!” At that proclamation, you laughed, turning back to the group as Mor held her hand out, a victorious look on her face at Cassian, who scowled. Pulling out his wallet, he pressed a handful of notes into her hand, and Mor tucked the collection into the bodice of her dress. 

“I can’t believe he didn’t tell me!” Cassian sounded genuinely hurt, and if it wasn’t for the love shining on his face, you might’ve believed he was. 

“How do you know it was him that knew, huh?” Your hands fell to your hips, brows raising at him. 

“Because I watched him pine after you for years and never tell you how he felt, no matter how many times I told him to! He knew.” A pang of that same guilty pain shot through you, quickly comforted on the other side of your heart by your mate, like a hand reaching out to hold your own. You clung to that feeling. 

“He didn’t tell any of us, Cassian. You know how private he is.” Amren was like the voice of reason, and your sights snapped to Rhys, only a twitch of his brow acknowledging what you both knew, and that you wouldn't tell any of them, less Cassian actually lose his mind. Once again, that feeling took you over, like a compass finding North, feeling Azriel weave his way back through the crowd until his bicep was brushing your shoulder. 

Rhysand beamed at his brother as he pressed a drink into your hands, leaving a kiss on your cheek. You took a deep gulp of it, grateful for the relief and taking the attention off yourself, all turning to look at Azriel. Congratulations spilled out of everyone, except the other winged warrior, who continued to frown and stare off into the crowd. 

Azriel frowned at that too, and you curled a little closer to his side, pressing a kiss to his shoulder as his arm looped your body, wing following protectively. “Cass?”

“You didn’t tell me!”

“I didn’t tell anyone.” At that, Cassian looked back, rolling his jaw a little. 

“You told Rhys.” Your heart thudded over a skipped beat, Azriel’s lips parting in shock, and Rhysand looked even more surprised than you both. “I knew that… I knew you told him something. This big secret, you were in and out of it that night and I was getting fresh rags and I heard you ask Rhys to tell you the truth. I figured it was just about your feelings, it never made sense why it seemed like such a big deal to Rhys after you passed out, but now I get it.”

“Shit, Cass,” Dragging a hand over his face, Azriel looked positively destroyed. “I didn’t mean to tell Rhys. I didn’t want anyone to know until… but I couldn't risk dying and her not knowing. I would’ve asked you if you’d been there, Rhys just happened to be the one in the room at the time.”

“Ouch, way to make a guy feel special.” Rhys grouched, but there was no hurt in his tone, and you chuckled. 

“We okay?”

“Yeah, of course, we are. I get it.” With a heavy sigh, Cassian let that frown turn into smile, striding forward to embrace his brother. The two collided so solidly that they stumbled backwards, and you almost fell with them as Azriel struggled to retract his arm in time to wrap it tightly around his brother’s back. Heavy pats and whispers not meant for anyone else, and you all pretended you didn’t hear the gentle sniffles as the two embraced. 

Finally, they parted, and you were free to wrap yourself back up in your mate's embrace as his shadows wrapped possessively around your waist, tugging you urgently back to his side. 

“So, what’s the story?” Feyre finally burst, and you chuckled. 

“Not quite as exciting as yours, nobody was on the verge of death.” Your gaze flickered over all of them, realising just how dramatic and heartbreaking each pair’s story had been, and you swallowed thickly. “We kissed under the mistletoe.”

“That’s so… interesting.” The High Lady’s brows furrowed as she thought it through, looking up to her husband for clarification only to find him just as amused, and Azriel’s chuckled washed against your temple as he left a soft smattering of kisses there. 

“It’s a tradition here. You should ask Vivianne to tell you all about it.”

“If you get caught under the mistletoe with someone, you kiss them.” Azriel shrugged, sipping some more of his drink, and Rhysand raised a hand. Summoning a small branch out of thin air to hover before you all on a fraction of power, all attention fell to the white-berried sprig. 

“This?”

“That's the one.” You smiled fondly at it, leaning up to kiss Azriel softly at the image of it, and he returned the gentle affection with a smile.

“Oh, boo,” Rhysand snapped his fingers, the night-touched magic that was his signature wrapping around you until the sprig was hovering over your heads instead, and you chuckled at it. “Give her a real kiss, Az. That was pathetic.”

“Rhys!” Placing his drink down and taking yours from your hands, Azriel turned you to face him, lifting both of your arms to loop around his neck. “Az—”

His mouth descended onto your own, a crush of his lips to yours that knocked your breath from you, and left you dizzy. Your eyes fluttered closed, his arms circling your body and pulling you flush to him, before bending you backwards over them. A squeak left your lips as you went, his wings flaring around you until they draped to the floor, and you clung to him as you returned his enthusiastic kiss. 

When his tongue swept along your lower lip cheekily, you scolded him through the bond, but parted your lips long enough for a single sweep of his tongue over your own, before you were pushing him back up, straightening until you were stable on your feet again. When you pulled back your heart stopped pounding quite so loudly in your ears. The fragile pants between you both, as your foreheads pressed together, were almost drowned out by the hollers and cheers of your friends. 

“Now that was a kiss,” The general whooped.

“You’re telling me.” You mumbled, and Azriel dipped down, nipping your lower lip with a smirk. Your hands smoothed down over his shoulders, still gripping the fabric of his cheesy Christmas jumper for support, and you focused on the feel of the soft knit under your fingers, to soothe the swell of hormones trying to overflow within you. “By the way, Rhys, these Christmas jumpers…”

As though reminded himself, Azriel freed one hand from where they’d connected at the bottom of your back, to travel up your spine, and trace over the letters spanning your shoulder-blades that spelt out your name. His nose stayed nuzzled in your hairline as you turned to glare at the High Lord.

“There will be revenge for these, just so you know.” You already had the revenge you spoke of upstairs in your room, tucked away neatly in your suitcase for the prime opportunity. At your smirk, his face fell, glancing between both you and Azriel, paling a little further as he realised you’d teamed up against him. “Just you wait.”

Just like this, surrounded by your family as your cheek rested against Azriel’s chest, feeling the heart that beat for you steadily underneath, you realised once again just how much you loathed all the years that had passed, that you could’ve had this. That large hand was now sitting on the back of your neck, thumb stroking over your pulse slowly, holding you to him. 

“I love you, Az.”

“I love you.” His whisper was low enough for only you, lips by your ear as his head bowed, and your eyes screwed shut, swaying to the music from the band and sinking into the feeling. This was exactly where you wanted to be, for the rest of your life. 

The mistletoe continued to bob over your heads, and you gave another kiss to Azriel, pecking his lips sweetly, before dragging him out from underneath it.

“Alright, who’s next under the mistletoe?”

[octuscle]

Merry Christmas! Or, er, Happy Holidays! Don’t wanna be presumptuous but I haven’t a clue what you celebrate, oh great wise Chronivac Support.

Aw why bother with niceties, you can probably tell I’m buttering you up. I’ll just get straight to it.

I live in the one campus dorm that’s right next to a frat house notorious for its wild, all-night parties. For most of my dorm mates, they love being so close to such a hotspot for booze and babes, but I—an eternally sober fruitcake— don’t really care for all that. Not to mention the loud music and flashing lights outside my window while I’m trying to sleep, god it drives me crazy.

Now, obviously I’m asking you to help me out, but I got a special request. Seeing as it’s the holly jolly time of year, I figured why not spice up my request. So, could you have one of their parties crashed by a real deal, mean Krampus? You know, Krampus, big, brutish, fuzzball that’s all about punishing naughty kids? You think you can have him punish those naughty frat boys and turn them into good little (or big, rather) musclebrats?

First of all, have a great holiday season too. I can't wish you a peaceful holiday season based on the information you've given me. I can understand you, but I don't really know how I can help you either. I'll send you a Krampus mask and a rod, maybe that will help with the next excess next door.

Bloody hell! It's Tuesday! In the middle of the week! Okay, maybe tomorrow is St. Nicholas Day, but that's no reason to make such a racket again. On the other hand… It's Krampus night. The evening of December 5th. There's no better occasion to put on the mask, grab the rod and really shake up the party in the house next door. You quickly put on a tracksuit and sneakers, put on the heavy mask, grab the rod and head next door.

The door is open. And step inside. Boozing and bawling frat boys are partying to loud music. And you see some of your roommates from your dorm. You shout "Krampus is here to punish the bad guys!" into the roar. And you start beating every jock who gets in your way with the rod. Nobody reacts at first. Then laughter. Then panic! Whoever your rod hits falls to the ground. You go into a sheer rush. Behind you, men lie on the ground with their limbs twitching, the drunken guys flee from you as best they can. But most of them just stumble over each other and make easy work of you. The big bell on your belt announces your arrival. You walk up the stairs with heavy steps. A few of the fugitives try to escape from the windows. A few barricade the doors. But no door can withstand your powerful step.

Apart from your own breathing and the music, nothing else can be heard. You pull the plug of the sound system out of the socket. Dead silence. The guys on the floor breathe peacefully and evenly. Another frat boy is hiding behind the sofa. One last strike with the rod. And your work on Krampus night is done.

Back in your dorm room, you take off your heavy mask. You're sweating in your heavy Krampus costume made of leather and sheepskins. The costume has been in your family for generations. Even your great-grandfather regularly took part in the Krampus runs in your home village in Salzburger Land.

Peace at last! "De verdammtn Gödln hom hodlt as kriagt, wos eana zugsteat!" you think to yourself as you finally take the costume off again and put it away in the wardrobe. And you fall into a deep and undisturbed sleep.

When your alarm clock rings at 07:00 the next morning, it's morning roll call in the fraternity house next door. The fraternity is known as the toughest training ground on campus. And home to the hottest guys. This morning they've been roaming the campus, stuffing candy and condoms into the good guys' polished boots. And now there are a few bare-chested push-ups in the snow. You love this sight.

You really couldn't ask for a better neighborhood.

Your pic found @hairysweatysmelly, the pic of the enhanced frat bros @nation-of-bros

[redheadspark]

Hi, could you do Oliver Wood with #20 for the december prompt? Happy holidays!

A/N - I love this! Thanks for requesting this, anon!

Fireworks

Summary- It's the small things that bring people together

Warnings - Just fluff

“Luv, what do you think he has planned?”

“Who knows.  It’s George we’re talkin’ about, he could be plannin’ anything,”

“You’re not wrong,”

Oliver chuckled as the pair of you stood inside Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, particularly for a Christmas Party that George Weasley conducted only for his closest friends. He closed the shop for the public and brought a handful of old friends, classmates, colleagues, and business partners, along with several families that he stayed in contact with since the Battle of Hogwarts.  You and Oliver were freshly married, a month after the Battle, and starting a new life together.  Back to reality, no more evil to look out for or Death Eaters that could swipe you.  With Voldemort gone, peace was once again in the Wizarding World, uneasy at times with uncertainty, but peace nonetheless. 

You and Oliver never expected to be married in such a rush, but you figured it was the best time after surviving the night at Hogwarts where your old school was ablaze and your friends were dying left and right of you.  You both were planning a wedding a few months down the road, but it was put on hold when Voldemort took power and lives were being taken at night.  Oliver wasn’t willing to let anything happen to either one of you when wizards and witches were being killed in their sleep or kidnapped out of the blue, so you both went into hiding instead.  When the dust settled and families were rebuilding their lives again, you and Oliver finally got married with just a handful of closest friends and family in the garden behind Oliver’s childhood home.

George Weasley was in attendance as one of Oliver’s groomsmen, both yourself and Oliver taking care of him for some time after he lost of twin at the battle.  He missed his twin, more than anything, and you knew he had changed for both the better and the worse.  You invited him over to have dinner at least once a week, lending him your spare bedroom when he didn’t want to sleep at the flat near the joke shop, even giving him long talks and hugs when he was especially lost in his own mind. 

He got back on his feet, marrying Angelina Johnson a year later losing Fred and the pair of them finding hope in one another.  You and Oliver went to the wedding, seeing his happy George was when Angelina walked down the aisle to him and they kissed under the enchanted fallen flower pedals thanks to Mrs. Weasley.  It was a magical afternoon at The Burrow, and a sure sign of new things to come.

With the holiday season well underway, George invited you and Oliver to his shop for his Annual Christmas Party.  It was exciting to see George happy and almost back to full self again, working part-time at the shop and Harry Potter helping too since he invested some galleons in the business.  Seeing a sea of old friends and new faces in the cramped but cozy shop made the night better, the fireplace active with a massive fire, and new gadgets and products being tested thanks to some of the shop employees invited to the party.  

Oliver met up with all the Gryffindor Alumni and old Quidditch Team members, reviewing old stories and games they never forgot.  You gravitated over to the other Gryffindors that were in your year back at school, seeing the familiar faces and going over old stories as well. About halfway into the party, you found Oliver again, seeing George standing at the top of the stairs that stood in the middle of the shop. He was sporting a maroon tux, looking healthier than he did before as he held a glass in his hand and the room fell silent for him.

“Thank you all for coming tonight, I couldn’t have asked for a better group of people and supporters in my life,” He started, holding onto the glass a pinch tighter as he took in a long breath, “This shop was a vision of mine and Fred’s, and we wanted to have our heart and soul in this place.  We couldn’t have done it alone, not without every single one of you.  So, I personally wish to thank you all,”

He then held up his glass and smiled, “To Fred,”

“To Fred,” A chorus of voices repeated, everyone taking a small sip from their glasses.  As you drank your glass of water, you felt Oliver reach down to lace your fingers together as he took a sip from his whiskey, making you lean your head on his shoulder and curl into him a bit.

“Now, I don’t wish to have this party be a downer, Fred would’ve killed me,” George replied, everyone, chuckling as he looked over to the left where Angelina was.  She was grinning, sporting a cup of juice and her spare hand on her 7-month pregnant belly with a massive smile on her face, “Angelina and I are looking forward to the new year and the growth of this shop, as well as the growth of our family,”

You could see Mrs. Weasley to the right being misty-eyed as Mr. Wesley was watching George with pride in his eyes.

“But as a treat, for all of your support since we’ve opened this shop, I want to unveil our new product exclusively for this party,” George informed the guests, all of whom were looking at him in both confusion and excitement.  He reached behind him taking out of a small wooden box what looked to be a turning top toy of sorts in his palm.  Holding it out in front of him, the device looked like it was dipped in a rainbow, shining in the light of the shop as he touched the button on the top.  

Within seconds, the top levitated in his palm and spun so fast it was almost memorizing.  Every watched on bated breath as fireworks as small as his fingers shout out and around the top.  George took out his wand from his suit inner pocket and tapped the top, which grew to the size of his head and the fireworks expanded to take up the space around him and in the air of the shop.

Everyone gasped in shock and awe, fireworks of all shapes and sizes boomed and exploded around the store.  You too seemed amazed at the sight, something so simple as an item would bring so much joy within seconds.  It made you look over at Oliver, seeing him look up at the fireworks with a smirk on his lips.  You were glad to be where you were thanks to him: his patience in you opening up to him when you two were classmates, his hardworking nature in building a home together with you after you both decided to be together, his loyalty to his friends and yourself in fighting at Hogwarts against Death Eaters.

But most of all, his love for you from the moment you two met as 2nd years.

He tore his eyes away from the fireworks to see you staring at him, his smile not leaving his face as he leaned over to kiss you softly on the lips. You felt the rest of the world fading away, the sounds of the partygoers cheering and applauding George, the smell of sweets, and the fireworks exploding in the air. Oliver ceased to make you feel loved and adored by him, feeling like you were the one main component in his world that would keep him stable and happy.  Even after the struggles of living in the real world, plenty of fights and spats, and ended in hugging and apologies, job opportunities and failures, you two stayed together.  You both carried literal scars from the Battle of Hogwarts, reminders of being alive and not wishing to take it for granted for one moment.  

Neither one of you saw George watching you two kiss, his smile a bit bigger since you told the news to George that you were pregnant and were planning to tell Oliver later that night at the party.

The End.

[roseianxiety]

All wrapped up by the fireplace

Ship: Romantic Roceit

Content Warnings: Mentions of alcohol usage, drunkenness, foul language, slight innuendo

Synopsis: Roman has some alone time with himself after their little Christmas Eve celebration, but a certain drunken snake approaches him and ruins his peace. At least that's what he thinks.

AO3

“Roman, is it really necessary for you to turn the living room into THIS?” 

Logan queries loudly as he gestures to the living room, now completely covered in Christmas decor and where their TV stood was now replaced with a grand brick fireplace. Roman really put a lot of effort into all this grandiosity.

“Yes, Logan, it is necessary.” Roman drawled out as he gave Logan a look while hanging the last ornament on the Christmas tree. He then added, hopping off his little stool. “You'd really expect ME to NOT go all out on Christmas?” he remarked at Logan.

Logan merely sighs and rolls his eyes, making his way towards his recliner chair. “I shouldn't have expected less from you and Patton when it comes to celebrating festivities,” he stated, gently sitting down and opening up one of the newspapers Virgil gave him. 

Roman hums proudly before strutting to the kitchen to check on whatever Patton was working on.

“Hey, Popstar, how's the baked goods doing there?” Roman questions cheerily from across the counter, propping his palm under his chin while he watches Patton do his thing.

Patton turns around, slightly surprised at Roman's sudden appearance but then giggles. “Oh hey ya, kiddo, didn't see you there.”. He continued, pulling out a tray of gingerbread man cookies out of the oven. “I'm almost done with the last batch. Careful, they're very hot.”.

He says before placing the tray down on the countertop to let it cool. Roman immediately reaches for one but hisses in pain and pulls his hand back when he burns himself with the piping-hot cookies. “Ow…”.

Patton tuts and shakes his head at Roman's impulsiveness, “I did tell you they're hot. You saw me take them out of the oven just now.”. He reaches to take Roman's hand but the other declines and pulls away. 

“Nah, it's okay. This burn is far from reaching my intestines anyway, so I'm cool. I was merely excited to taste your fantastic cookies, Padre.” Roman shrugs and moves to try and take one but Patton gently slaps his hand away. The creative prince pouts at that.

“No no, they're still piping hot. And, we still have to wait for the last batch before we can finally eat all of these.” Patton states with a raised chin, trying to seem authoritative but he looks silly and cute. Don't tell him that.

“Bummer,” Roman mutters with a pout before sighing. He straightens (ha!) his posture and stretches his arms over his head, turning on his heels. “Anyways, you better continue that while I go check whatever chaos Remus is doing. Don't want him ruining my party.”.

He says as he makes his way back to the living room. As he does so, he could see Virgil hissing aggressively at Remus while his twin brother was teasing the crap out of the anxious facet.

“Come on, take him! He's Mr. Fuzzy’s boyfriend!” Remus exclaimed, trying to give another handcrafted hairball abomination to Virgil who was desperately trying to get away from him. And Janus was there, laughing his drunk ass off by the sidelines.

Virgil notices Roman walking towards them and immediately calls for him while trying to stop Remus from getting close to him. “Roman! Come get your unhinged brother!” He exclaimed, before hissing at Remus.

“Hi, Roman~” Janus giggles drunkenly as he gives Roman a small. Geez… he really was drunk. Roman chooses to ignore him.

“Sorry Virgil but you're gonna have to deal with him yourself.” Roman hums, raising his hands in defense. Virgil groans at his response, now more annoyed. Remus then pushes the hairball abomination right at Virgil's face, causing the other to yelp.

Roman leaves them be and walks towards the couch, plopping just beside Logan who was engrossed with his puzzle thing or whatever it was. He tried to take a peek at it only for his face to scrunch up in confusion, not understanding one bit of it. Roman didn't what was so interesting about it but eh, at least Logan was having the time of his life.

He leans back on the couch while he watches as the fire crackles in the fireplace, emitting a cozy warmth that he always loved. Roman might now admit it out loud but he loved enjoying his Christmas with everyone. It’s good not to be alone.

“To be honest, I didn't think Remus would be this… tame when he is drunk. How surprising.” Logan comments as looks down at Remus on the floor before sipping on his wine. The chaotic individual was currently splayed out on the living room floor, already deadbeat asleep.

Patton carefully takes the empty mug from Remus’ grasp, trying not to wake him up. “So alcohol is just the way to calm him down?” He says, letting out a soft yelp when Remus grumbles and pulls the mug away from him, hugging it close. Patton frowns and leans back on the couch but not before grabbing two cookies from the snack platter.

“You know, it's already late and I already feel the spirit of Christmas welling up inside me. And by that, I mean vomit. Merry Christmas y'all, I'm gonna go bury myself in the comforts of my blankets.” Virgil suddenly says as he gets up from his usual place on the couch before sinking out, not letting anyone say a word.

Logan proceeds to check the time on his wristwatch. “Virgil is right, it is past twelve and my bedtime schedule. Merry Christmas everyone. Be sure to sleep well.” He says in a monotone, glancing at the rest of them. He then leaves as well, following right after Virgil.

“Aww geez, everyone's going to sleep now. I'm starting to feel eepy too. So sorry your party didn't go the way you wanted it to, Roman.” Patton apologizes with a small frown as he looks at the princely trait but Roman waves it off.

“It's quite alright, Patton, I am not easily upset at something so trivial.” He says casually, getting up from his spot on the couch and beginning to stretch his arms, hearing satisfying pops from his joints. “You go ahead and rest your adorable self, I'll deal with all the mess here.” Roman then added.

“Are you sure? I can help you—”

Roman immediately cuts Patton off before he can even continue his sentence, “Shush, Patton. I can handle this. You've been dozing off a lot, it's best for you to rest.”.

“Plus, I've still got a pump of adrenaline in me so I'm not that tired yet. I'm gonna spend all that leftover energy cleaning all of this.” He chuckles, trying to reassure the fatherly figure.

“Oh…if you say so. But don't forget to rest too. Merry Christmas, kiddo! I love you!” Patton exclaims before throwing himself on Roman, giving the other a tight, warm hug. Roman smiles fondly, hugging the other back. Eventually, Patton sinks out and returns to his room.

When Patton left, Roman immediately started his work. He cleaned all of the junk left in the living room, from the torn gift wrappers to the various cookie crumbs lying around. Roman resorted to carrying Remus onto the couch, Remus might not be the physically built one between them but God, was he heavy. 

He continued to clean the living room and even cleaned the kitchen as well, making sure there wasn't any mess left in the morning. After half an hour or so, he was finally done.

He makes a little nest out of pillows and blankets by the fireplace before situating himself in his creation. Even after all that cleaning, he still wasn't tired. And he couldn't think of anything to do. So why not look at fire instead?

Janus stumbles down from the stairs, drunk as fuck. He was planning to get some water but his eyes landed on something by the fireplace. Or more likely, someone.

“My my, what's our beloved prince doing here all by himself?”

Roman suddenly snaps his head back as soon as he hears that all too familiar sultry voice. His eyes narrow at the very presence of his archenemy. Janus was making his way towards him, while almost tripping on his own feet. He clearly was still not sober.

“What do you want, Janus? I'm not exactly in the mood to deal with you right now.” Roman groaned before turning back to the fireplace, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What? Am I not allowed to be in the living room? I just wanna get warm.” Janus huffs before plopping down beside the prince, causing the other's face to scrunch up more in frustration and annoyance. Roman scoots away from him and avoids meeting his gaze. He crosses his arms further, a big pout already forming on his lips. 

There was a big silence between them, and Roman liked it that way. Heck, he even forgot Janus was there beside him in the first place. Out of annoyance and trying to avoid the other, he got distracted by watching the fire slowly move and crackle in an intricately artistic dance. Not until Janus said the most out-of-pocket thing ever which ruined the vibe.

“You know, you could've done other things to warm me up than buy me socks.”

Those. Those were the very words that ruined his perfectly good vibes. Because what the actual fuck!?

“W-what? No!” Roman remarked quickly in sheer embarrassment, his whole face as red as his sash. Now why did Janus have to say that?!

Janus only tilted his head at him, staring at him innocently for a few minutes before letting out a sadistic cackle, making Roman turn red. “I'm just messing with you, Roman.”.

He then stops momentarily, batting his eyelashes at Roman as he bites his lips suggestively. “Unless you want to…”.

Roman's whole face immediately burned up like the fire in the fireplace. For some random reason, the way Janus was saying that in a low and sultry voice while biting his lip was absolutely sending him. Jesus Christ on a stick, it was not the right time to be a gay mess.

“How many bottles of wine have you drunk today?” Roman queries, gently gripping Janus' face as he tries to look for any sign of sobriety.

“Just a bit. Like, three or four bottles. I don't know, I forgot. Silly me.” Janus giggles, looking up at Roman with a drunken gaze, his whole face dusted in pink. Okay, but truth be told, he was quite cute when he was not up to something devious. Not that Roman would admit it.

“Geez, you're so drunk right now. You need to go back to your room and sleep.” Roman clicked his tongue before letting go of Janus, causing the other to slump forward against him.

The deceitful facet whined, clinging close to him. “I'm not drunk! I am very sober as you can see. Iz jus very very cold… hmm, you're warm.” he grumbled lowly, nuzzling close to Roman. The creative prince was having second thoughts if he should push Janus away or let him cuddle with him, he's still not on good terms with Janus after all and the latter was drunk.

“Even while drunk you still have the gall to lie.” Roman scoffs with a roll of his eyes.

“So warm… you are like a walking furnace. Very warm. I like warmth.” Janus babbled, not wanting to let go of Roman. The other could do nothing but grimace, having no choice but to let Janus cling to him like a koala bear.

“Not gonna lie, you're sorta cute when you're drunk. And pretty annoying too.” Roman commented, glancing at Janus for a moment.

“Awww, you think I'm cute AND pretty, Roman? Do you like meeee?”

The creative trait could feel his cheeks heat up at Janus' bold words. He tries to hide his blush by averting his gaze from Janus while his heart begins to ram against his ribcage.

“No way! I-I meant pretty annoying! Nothing else.” Roman exclaims in defense but Janus merely chuckles at him, clearly not convinced with his answer. And of course, Janus doesn't stop taunting him.

“Then why are you blushing?~” Janus teases as he reaches to grab Roman's face, urging the other to look at him. 

“I'm not!”

“You so are.”

Roman let out a frustrated groan and covered his face. Janus was going to be the death of him if he didn't stop teasing him. He wanted to rip out his hair and scream. Roman took back what he said, Janus was not cute when he was drunk, more like annoying.

“By the way, how did you know I'm cold-blooded? I never truly told anyone that.” Janus wonders, seemingly having calmed down from his amusement. Roman glances at him, slightly caught off guard by his question.

Roman thinks for a moment, he didn't think of the possibility that Janus might ask that question. When he got Janus for Secret Santa, his first plan was to give him something shitty like a passive-aggressive letter but he scrapped that because he might seem like too much of an asshole. So he went for something useful. He may or may not have done some research for Janus' gift.

“I just assumed because you're a snake and all,” Roman muttered, still refusing to look at Janus at the fear that the other would tease the crap out of him or if his heart would fully jump out of his chest. “They're not that special, just some pair of yellow socks.”.

“I like them though, they're yellow and keep my feet warm.” Janus hums happily before raising one of his feet up to show off his cool new socks, then wiggles his toes a bit just to fuck with Roman. The princely facet gave him a disgusted look but it quickly melted away into a hearty laugh.

“Didn't expect you'd wear them immediately. Thought you might throw it away because it does not match your ‘Disney Villain’-esque aesthetic.” Roman chuckles softly. Janus smiles at him, a sincere and genuine one at that.

Roman wanted to admit it, but Janus was growing on him. He had never seen this side of him before when he was sober. He was less villainy and scheme-y, although Janus still got that sass and all. Yet it was his first time seeing him smile so genuinely. It was a fresh sight to see.

Their eyes suddenly met for a moment, the both of them could feel a quick spark of electricity as soon as their gaze landed on each other. Roman could only watch as Janus slowly leaned closer toward him, almost climbing on his lap. 

They stare at each other intently, not knowing what will happen. Roman's gaze moved from Janus' eyes down to his lips, then back up, before gulping softly. There was a pregnant pause between them, but it was broken when Janus leaned forward, closing the gap between them.

Sparks fly as their lips collide in a kiss, likening it to a fireworks display. All the background noises seemed to quiet down behind them, only the loud thumps of their passionate hearts that seemed to jump out of their chests could be heard. Roman only stared at Janus in shock as he sat there, frozen. His brain was still processing what was happening. 

But before he could, Janus suddenly pulled away. 

“I love you…” He mutters against Roman's lips before moving away to rest his head on the prince’s shoulder.

Then it finally clicked to Roman. He snapped out of his trance and immediately reached to touch his lips with his fingers, trying to feel the bits of the presence of Janus' kiss as his whole face warmed up. Janus kissed him and confessed to him… Janus…kissed…him

.

.

.

.

.

.

JANUS KISSED HIM!

The realization dawned upon him like being hit with a ten-wheeler truck. Did this mean Janus liked him all this time?! No… no, that can't be the case, right? He was drunk. That cannot be true… right? But it did seem genuine.

He was about to question Janus when he realized the other had already fallen asleep while lying on his shoulder. Really? He just kissed Roman and gave him a dilemma then went to sleep!

Roman let out a groan, mentally slapping himself on the face. He did not want his Christmas to start with him overthinking about this. After a long while, he lets out a long sigh, choosing to accept his reality. Maybe Janus did like him. But does he like him back?

He glances at Janus once more, observing his features. Huh, his scales were interesting up close. They shine like emeralds. A small smile creeps up on Roman's lips while he watches Janus sleep peacefully, he really is stunning.

Janus suddenly shudders in his sleep, clinging more to Roman. The personification of creativity notices this and decides to pull the other closer, basically letting his archenemy cuddle him. Roman looks around for the blankets until he finds one, draping it around him and Janus, hoping that would shield them from the chilly breeze.

Roman then queries softly, “Still cold?”. 

Janus then unconsciously shakes his head as a response while he nuzzles the other. The creative facet chuckles softly, wrapping his arms around Janus to keep him warm.

He continues to observe the other for a few moments, watching as he softly breathes and snore. It was cute. This could be good blackmail material for Janus, but Roman wasn't exactly in the mood. All he wanted to do right now was admire him. Roman then whispers to him, pressing a gentle kiss on Janus’ forehead. 

“I love you too, Janus.”

-----------------------------------

Writing Taglist: @cutebisexualmess @extraintrovertedalien (please tell me if you want to be added or removed in the tag list)

[nowandajenn]

Blue Christmas- chapter 12

Summary: After almost three years of marriage, everyone would tell you that Chris and his wife Kelly are the most stable, solid couple they know. But behind closed doors, things are tense as they keep trying for a baby, to no avail. When a secret threatens to shake their solid marriage to it’s core, will they be able to pick up the pieces?

Series warnings: angst (like a lot), mentions of infidelity, language, family drama, pregnancy, sexual situations.

Author’s Note: I do not consent to have my content, whether it be this story or anything else of my creation, posted by a third party on any other platform other than right here without my permission. This blog is 18+ and is not intended for minors. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Heed the warnings

February 16

Some surprises aren’t all bad. Like getting a day in the middle of February that’s almost 60 degrees. Even at almost 10pm, it’s still in the upper 40s, so I’m taking advantage and sitting on our front porch in the swing desperately trying to battle my nausea, which sprang up out of nowhere like a wrecking ball, determined to take me down. 

I hear the door open and quickly stub out the joint and hide the rest of it on the bottom shelf of the little table next to me. Fuck, a lot of good that’s going to do since it reeks of pot out here, dumbass I think to myself. 

“Kelly?” 

I sigh in relief as I realize that it’s just Lisa. She closes the front door and walks over to where I’m sitting in her pajamas and slippers. 

“Take a load off.” I say softly. I pull the blanket back so she can sit down and offer it back to her once she’s settled. 

“Were you smoking weed out here?” she asks. 

“What? No. Absolutely not.” I tell her, trying not to grin. 

“Please. I raised four kids. I know what weed smells like. You’re busted.”

“Trying to combat the nausea. I don’t even get the relief of throwing up. I’m just stuck in that shitty state of feeling constantly nauseous where I’m like ‘God, either let me just throw up so I can feel better’. It’s awful.”

“I don’t miss that. The first four months I was pregnant with Chris, my head was in the toilet bowl.” 

We sit for a few minutes, just enjoying the slight breeze and sway gently in the swing. It’s one of the few moments of absolute peace I feel like I’ve had in months. Plus, there’s something about Lisa that is just so damn comforting and warm that it’s impossible not to feel good in her presence. 

“Have you told anyone else?” she asks softly, looking over at me. 

I shake my head. “I just…..I don’t want anyone to know until I figure out….”

“This isn’t how it was supposed to happen. All that time we tried and we tried and nothing was happening…..I prayed so hard for it. It just seems like having it happen now….it’s like the universe is laughing at me.” I turn my body a bit to face her. “On one hand, I AM happy. I want to be excited and tell people and get my hopes up. I want Chris to be happy and know that he’s finally gonna get his wish and be a dad. But on the other….I’m terrified. Even if everything goes right and we have a healthy baby….what if Chris and I can’t make this work? Am I going to be a divorced mom shuttling my kid back and forth every weekend and splitting holidays?”

“Kel, I wish I could see the future so I could have all the answers for you and tell you that everything was going to work out. But I know this; even if, God forbid, you and Chris can’t work this out, I know for a fact that you both would do everything in your power to make sure that this baby would be so incredibly loved and protected. You will always be a part of each other’s lives. You two are so deeply intertwined with each other. I think you’re trying too hard to focus on the future and you’re imagining all these scenarios that may not even happen. And I know it’s hard not to do that. You’re a planner; it’s what you do. Don’t make this decision based on what might happen or what you’re scared of having happen. Make this decision based on what YOU feel is best for you. I know how scared you are of all the unknown, but you’re not alone in this. I’m here for you, honey.”

Lisa opens her arms and I snuggle into her, letting the tears flow down my cheeks and into the woven fabric of the blanket. It’s a perfect mom hug. 

A week later, Chris and I are in his Audi, navigating the morning rush as we make our way to our first marriage counseling appointment. My stomach has been in upheaval all morning long, and I can’t even totally blame it on morning sickness. I feel like this is the thing that’s going to make or break us, and the thought makes me break out into a cold sweat. I reach over and grab my cup of tea out of the cupholder and take a sip, making a face. I really wanted coffee, but I didn’t think that was going to help my stomach any. 

Chris looks over at me and rubs my leg. “You okay?”

“I feel like I’m gonna puke.” 

I almost want to laugh at the look of alarm he gives me. “Hold on, I’ll pull over.”

“No, I- I’m just nervous and anxious and…..it’s not doing my stomach any favors.” 

Thirty minutes later, Chris pulls into a parking spot outside the nondescript brick building that our therapist’s office is housed in. He puts the car in park and exhales. It’s God Doesn’t Love You cold outside, and neither one of us are looking forward to getting out of the car. 

“Should we wait? 

It takes my brain a second to catch up with what he’s saying. 

“I’d rather just go in there and get this started. If we wait, I’m just going to get more and more anxious and build it up to be this big monster of a thing and freak the fuck out. I just….I wanna get to work.”

“I know…I just don’t want you to stress out more than you already are. I know this is going to be decidedly not awesome in any way.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m nervous.” he says in a shaky voice. 

“I know. But I honestly think…..as much as it’s going to fucking suck at first….I think it will be good in the long run. I think it will help. I’m just not really excited to rehash everything.”

Chris rubs his hand over his beard, mentally flogging himself for being such a fucking idiot. He reaches over and grabs my right hand and squeezes it. “I love you. I love you so damn much. Thank you for doing this with me. I don’t…..I don’t deserve you.”

I take a deep breath. “I love you too.”

I decide that I’m a little bit in love with our counselor about ten minutes into us sitting down with her. She’s younger than I thought she would be, and not at all what you would picture a marriage counselor to be like. Shelley Gray is a force of nature with smoky lavender hair, a blunt tell it like it is attitude, and an insanely cool office filled with interesting art and kick knacks. When we had set up the appointment, her office had emailed over a worksheet of sorts for Chris and I to fill out with basics about us, why we decided to start marriage counseling, and what we hope to achieve in the future. So, she pretty much has the broad strokes when we come in for our first session. She greets us both with a firm handshake and a friendly smile and invites us to take a seat on the insanely comfortable, squishy couch in her office. 

“I’m in love with your office.” I blurt out, not able to help myself. “I’ve been in a lot of offices, and this is the most comfortable, cool, relaxed atmosphere I’ve ever seen.”

“Thank you. My line of work can be really….harsh, for lack of a better term. It’s often really emotional and intimidating for the people that come to see me, so I wanted to kind of create a space that was relaxing and inviting. Why come into a space that’s cold and impersonal and then have to talk about hard things?” 

She sits in the overstuffed blue armchair across from us and settles in, grabbing her notepad and folder off the table between us. “Let me start off by saying this. Everything you say in the space of this room is completely and strictly confidential and falls under doctor/patient confidentiality unless one of you tells me something that makes me think you might have intentions of hurting yourself or someone else. Secondly, as I said before, couples counseling can be harsh. Most people that come in here are talking about things that are uncomfortable and ugly and not great. What I ask is that you both allow yourselves to be completely honest and open when you’re here. Couples often times try and censor themselves in the company of their spouse or partner because they don’t want to upset or offend, and they feel like they don’t want to make things worse. Which is all completely understandable. But censoring yourself and not being honest isn’t going to help anything. You’re just shoving metaphorical crap into the closet and not dealing with it. My job is to help you guys the best I can to deal with all the bad stuff and work through it without killing each other.” 

Chris and I both blow out a harsh breath at the same time, and it makes Dr. Gray smile. We start the session by dipping a toe in and the both of us giving her a little bit of insight into us as individuals and our relationship. 

“Okay, so now that I have a bit of background on you guys, let’s jump into why you decided to come see me. I know you guys filled out your pre appointment worksheet, but those aren’t going to give me the full picture of what’s going on.” She looks between both of us and notices that we’ve both stiffened up and look uncomfortable and I look like I’m about to cry. 

“Okay, let’s start a little smaller.” she says, turning towards me. “Kelly, you look like you got a bit banged up. What happened?” 

I look down at my left arm that’s still in the hinged brace and the walking boot on my foot. “I was in a  pretty bad car accident right after the first of the year. I’m still kind of….getting back to normal. Whatever that means.” I shrug. 

“How did it happen?” 

“I was coming back from the airport. It was really early in the morning, and I was really tired and just wanted to get home. In hindsight, I should have just called an Uber or something, but who the hell knows if that would have made a difference. The guy that hit me was coming off of working 3rd shift and fell asleep at the wheel. I survived, but he didn’t. And that…..I’m still trying to figure out how to process that.” 

Chris turns to me. “I saw the car.” 

My eyes go round. “What? When?”

“When you were still in the hospital. I went for a drive with Dodger to calm down and try and decompress, and I ended up at the junkyard they towed it to. Seeing how hurt you were….and then seeing what the car looked like…..I don’t know how the hell you survived that.” I see his eyes get glassy with tears, and he looks up quickly to try and keep them from falling. 

“I went to Chicago. That’s….that’s why I was coming back from the airport. That’s why I was on the road at that ungodly hour.” I say quickly. It’s the first time I’ve openly admitted that. We both know that’s where I went, but neither of us said anything about it out loud. 

“What was in Chicago?” Dr. Gray asks. 

I close my eyes and try my best to steel myself for this. This is it. It’s like a wound. It’s ugly and bloody and painful and you think that it’s going to start healing after a while, but then you find out there’s an infection festering in there. So then you have to cut it open and get all the rot out so you can finally, maybe get back to some semblance of normal. 

“The woman that I slept  with.” Chris says, almost choking on the words. Yeah, no matter how many times I hear that, it still feels like a sledgehammer right to the gut. Somehow, when it’s in my brain, I can compartmentalize a little bit. But when it’s said out loud? All bets are off. I grab the pink shag throw pillow next to me and squeeze the life out of it. My eyes start burning and I can feel my chest start to tighten up.

“Kelly? Are you okay?”

I squeeze my eyes shut against the burn and shake my head. I know if I try and open my mouth, something embarrassing is going to come out. Vomit or a loud wail. “You’re okay. Take all the time you need.” 

Fucking hell. How did we get here? How? How? How? 

“I can’t remember the last time I was okay.” I sob out, desperately trying to get the words out between tears and snot and hiccups. I’ve spent so much time trying to just HANDLE all of the shit that’s been piled on one right after another and deal with it and not break down, and it’s just all of the sudden TOO FUCKING MUCH. 

“I’m so fucking mad. I’m mad about everything. I’m mad that my husband cheated on me. I’m mad that he didn’t tell me right away even though I KNEW something was wrong.” I swing my gaze to Chris. “I KNOW YOU. I know your tells. I knew something was wrong, and I asked you about it over and over and you said everything was fine, when I knew that was a load of shit. I’m mad that I’m in pain every single day and I don’t know if it’s going to get better. I’m mad that I’m pregnant and I can’t go more than two hours without feeling like I’m going to puke up my stomach lining.” 

At this point, I’m red in the face and breathing heavily, and Chris is looking at me like I’m about to shed my skin and turn into a man eating dragon at any second. Dr. Gray pushes a box of tissues towards me and I grab a handful to wipe off the tears and snot. Suddenly, my stomach lets out a tremendously loud growl, and that just adds to my embarrassment. “Fucks sake.” I mumble. I skipped breakfast because I was too nauseous. 

The good doctor gets up and walks over to her desk, pulling open a drawer. I’m expecting that she’s going to fire us because one half of us is obviously insane and snotting all over her throw pillow, and I bury my face in my hands. 

“Here.” I look up and see her handing me a snack size package of chewy Chips Ahoy cookies. I look up at her with teary eyes. “I don’t always remember to take breaks for actual meals so I keep snacks in the office so I can just graze all day. And for moments like this.” I take the cookies gratefully and rip open the package, immediately shoving one in my mouth. 

I take a deep breath as I chew, trying to calm myself down. Great, session one and I’m already a basket case. This is going swimmingly. I sigh heavily and look up at the good doctor, who I’m already planning on putting in the will for just the cookies alone. “I swear I’m not crazy.” I say softly, rolling my eyes at myself because isn’t that what all crazy people always say anyway?

She chuckles out loud. “No, I don’t think you are. I think you’ve had a hell of a lot of crazy stuff happen to you in a really short amount of time. And if anyone could deal with all of that piled on them and not have a breakdown every now and then because of it, I’d really be concerned.” 

I turn to Chris. “I left for Chicago after we had that god awful conversation at the house. You know….for some reason, I had it in my head that if I could go and I could just see her and put a face to this mystery woman who kind of came in and bulldozed everything, it would help me start taking the first steps towards….I don’t know….working on dealing with it and….coming to terms with it? I don’t know, I feel like I’m not saying it right. So, I went back through my texts where you mentioned where you were staying in Chicago and I flew there and I checked in, and I almost chickened out of the whole thing. I mean, I flew all the way to fucking Chicago to confront the woman that my husband slept with. Is that a sane, rational thing to do? But I got dressed up, had dinner, and then went to the bar for a drink. And there she was. Jo. And she had no idea who I was until I showed her the picture on my phone of you and I. And I’ve never seen someone turn so white they were almost transparent. I would have laughed, but I was so sick to my stomach…..I said what I had to say, then I went back to my room and I threw up for two hours.” 

“Did seeing her and confronting her help, do you think?” Dr. Gray asks. 

“I don’t know. I mean, it didn’t change anything, really. I could just put a face to her. And in hindsight, if I had known what was going to happen to me on the way home, I would have just stayed here and been happy wondering forever I think.” 

She closes her notebook and looks at both of us appraisingly. “Well, we certainly have a lot of work ahead of us in the coming sessions, but you guys are both tough, and I think we’re all up for the challenge. I’m going to give you guys a workbook that you’re going to work on together. Some of it is for you each separately, and some of it is for you to answer together. Pick a time every week where you can sit down, uninterrupted and work on it. It can be a fun bonding exercise. Every week when you come see me, I’m going to give you a homework assignment to complete before you come see me again. If it doesn’t work out for whatever reason, don’t worry. There’s no pass or fail. All that matters is that you try. The first assignment is that I want you guys to have a date night. It doesn’t have to be anything fancy. It can just be cooking dinner together at home and wearing something nice. Whatever you decide to do. You don’t have to talk about any of the hard stuff, just have a nice time, together for a few hours. Try and put all of the baggage out of your minds for that period of time and just focus on being together, and how you feel when you’re with each other. Deal?”

Chris and I nod. “We can do that.” 

When we leave, I make Chris stop at McDonalds because the cookies only sated my hunger for about half an hour before my stomach was protesting again. When we pull up to the house, I’m still shoving fries in my mouth when I notice a rental car parked outside. 

“We weren’t expecting anyone to come by right? I don’t recognize the car.” I mumble through my food. 

“Not that I know of. Nobody texted me.” Chris says. 

We get out of the car and head inside and I almost drop the bag of food when I hear a voice I haven’t heard in person for about eight months talking and laughing with Lisa. 

“Holy shit. You’re here! How? When?” I squeal as my best friend Katie comes over and squeezes me as hard as she dares without hurting me. “I know you told me over and over not to fly all the way out here and just wait until I was due to come home anyway, but I couldn’t just sit on the other side of the world while you were here, going through all this stuff. FaceTiming just wasn’t cutting it.” 

“She showed up about 45 minutes ago. I didn’t even know she was coming.” Lisa told us. 

“You hid the knives right? All the sharp objects? Rat poison? Anything she could use to murder me?” Chris asks his mom, who rolls her eyes. 

“You and I are going to have a conversation later that you’re not going to enjoy. So I’m going to let you sit here and squirm while you imagine how THAT’S going to go, while I take my best friend and catch up with her.” Katie says, pointing at Chris. He’ll never openly admit it, but he’s lowkey terrified of her and I find it hilarious. 

She and I head upstairs to the guest bedroom to get her settled and Chris turns to Lisa. “Did she say how long she’s here for?” he asks. Lisa shrugs. “Undetermined. But I would do my best to stay on her good side, because even I can’t save you from her.”