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malk1ns · 7 days ago

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december 28 @ islanders, 6-3 loss

playing this team is so fucking BORINGGGGGGG oh my god.

i received confirmation this season that geno is still the penguins' finemaster (click here for more info on what that entails) and is just as much of a cheerful bully about it as you'd expect him to be.

Losses are always deflating. Nobody who’s made it to the National Hockey League is ever okay with losing a game, any game, even if they’ve gotten better at processing how they feel about it.

Some games are definitely easier than others, though, and a road game after Christmas break definitely qualifies, especially when Sid feels like perhaps the final score doesn’t quite reflect their quality of play. Plus, they have a chance to get their own back in less than 24 hours.

He keeps an eye on the team as he changes out of his gear, but the mood is light—seems like most of the guys feel the same as he does.

“Hey!” Geno calls, standing on the bench and banging on the side of his stall. “Hey, assholes, quiet. I’m nice all month, okay, know you all need to buy good gifts for your wives because you’re not nice—” there’s an eruption of jeers and teasing at this, which Geno allows for a second before banging on his locker again, “—I’m not make you pay your fines all December. But it’s new year soon, need to balance the books, and I have list.” He waves his phone in the air.

“Fuck,” Bunts mutters from down the row. Sid stifles a smile as he hangs up his shoulder pads, patting OC on the shoulder as he drops into his seat.

Geno’s been finemaster since Sid was out with his concussion and neck issues. He shared duties the season after they won their first Cup, but the season before the lockout he took over full-time, and he does this every year—gets lax with assigning fines as they approach the holidays, takes IOUs and deferrals without any argument at all, but the whole time he keeps a ledger, noting down who hasn’t paid and who’s still committing fineable offenses.

Kris learned about Krampus a few years ago. Geno protests when Kris calls him that, but Sid knows he likes it.

Geno’s recitation of fines owed starts on the shuttle to the airport and is still going when the plane touches down in Pittsburgh. He goes easy on the younger guys, he always does, but the vets are hit especially hard this year—even the most minor case of tape-hoarding earned a spot on Geno’s naughty list.

Once they’re ready to de-board, Geno heads off the plane first, making a show of plugging in his Square card reader amid the team’s groans. He stands at the bottom of the stairs, holding everyone up until they either fork over the cash or swipe their card to pay what they owe.

Sid takes his time getting his stuff together, smiling blandly when Kris shoots him a disgusted scowl as he makes his way to the front of the plane.

Kris knows about him and Geno. Sid doesn’t remember how exactly he found out, but he’s kept their secret for years now. Being trustworthy, though, doesn’t stop him from being nosy, and then acting like the intimate details he’s cajoled out of Sid or Geno after encouraging them to get tipsy and spill their secrets are some disgusting burden he’s stuck with.

It’s his own fault that he knows the game Sid and Geno play when the end-of-year fines are collected.

Sid ends up shivering in the sharp breeze halfway down the stairs as Karl tries to argue his way out of one of his infractions at the base. Geno holds firm, though, brandishing his phone and scrolling rapidly through his photo album with some sort of evidence, and eventually Karl relents, digging out his wallet and counting cash into Geno’s waiting palm.

Nobody else puts up a fight, and by the time Sid reaches the bottom of the staircase, the rest of the team has scattered, heading home to rest and recharge before tomorrow’s game.

“Well, Crosby? Cash or card?” Geno says, holding up his phone and waggling it in Sid’s direction. On the screen is a notes app list of all of Sid’s crimes over the last four weeks. It’s a lot longer than what Geno read out in the locker room on Long Island.

Sid looks up at Geno through his eyelashes. “I don’t have any cash on me, and my card got frozen—fraud,” he murmurs, quietly enough that Geno has to bend closer to hear him. “Isn’t there any other way I can work off my debt?”

Geno frowns at him. “Sid,” he chastises, tucking his phone into his jacket pocket. “What’s the guys say if they’re find out I’m not make you pay? Not fair, you know.”

“C’mon,” Sid wheedles, shifting closer to Geno so their body heat bleeds together. “I’ll make it worth your while.” He slides his hand into Geno’s jacket and down, groping over where his dick is half-hard in his suit pants.

Geno shudders, pretending to think about it. “Don’t know, Sid, you’re owe a lot of money,” he points out, and Sid breaks character for a minute to glare—he knows he didn’t do that much to get fined over this month. Geno smirks back at him.

Glancing around to make sure they’re alone, Sid leans up and puts his mouth to Geno’s ear. “I’ll make it worth your while,” he says huskily, smiling when Geno shivers.

—

They drop the act in the car ride home. Geno complains about the refs calling back that goal, and Sid gets out some cathartic bitching about Cizikas. They spend more time talking through what went right in the second period than anything else—the coaches will go over the bad stuff and breakdowns in video tomorrow morning.

That continues into the house, where they grimace at each other in the kitchen as they choke down the protein shakes the trainers assigned them this season, all the way up into the bedroom where they go through their nighttime routines.

When Sid emerges from the bathroom after brushing his teeth, Geno’s leaning against the wall across from their bed. He’s naked, and still mostly soft, but he’s playing with himself, and Sid zeroes in on his hand where it’s stroking slowly over his dick. “Time to pay up,” Geno says, and when Sid jerks his gaze up to meet Geno’s eyes, Geno’s smirking. Smug bastard.

Sid’s mouth waters. “I could blow you,” he rushes out, crossing the room towards Geno. “Let me…” But before he can get too close, before he can drop to his knees between Geno’s legs and get his mouth on him, Geno puts out his free hand and stops Sid in his tracks, nodding over at the mattress.

Sid looks over his shoulder, just now noticing the lube out on the nightstand, the open bottom drawer where they keep their toys.

“You owe lots this year, Sid,” Geno says, gently pushing Sid backwards. “You want to suck me? Fine, okay, maybe that’s part. But it’s not enough. For the rest, you get on the bed, touch yourself, show me what you like. Then maybe you work off enough to get my dick.”

“Fuck,” Sid mutters, palming himself where he’s getting hard. Geno’s voice is even, almost bored, like this is any other fine transaction. When Sid looks at him, he arches an eyebrow.

It’s a challenge. And Sid always rises to a challenge.

Geno wants him to prove himself, to earn it? Sid can do that.

It takes him a little bit to settle when he gets onto the mattress. This isn’t something they do, really—Sid’s never been much of an exhibitionist, and Geno’s always so eager to get his hands or mouth on Sid that he’s never really asked for this.

Sid feels exposed, leaning back against their pillows with his thighs parted as he pours lube into his palm and takes himself in hand. Geno’s staring at him, eyes half-closed as he lazily touches himself, and Sid matches his pace at first, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth.

It doesn’t take long to sink into it. Geno’s gaze feels good, the sharp intakes of breath Sid can hear from across the room as Sid starts to show off a little, tries to make it look hot only egging him on.

Geno likes a lot of lube, likes to make them messy, so Sid pours more onto his hand, slicking up his fingers so that every stroke sounds loud in the room.

Sid gets all the way hard pretty quick, and the way he’s spread out for Geno makes him itchy. His hand on his dick isn’t enough, not even when he starts playing with his balls too, tugging at them meanly like Geno usually does.

He shifts his hips, and Geno notices. “Put pillow,” he says hoarsely, “and get from drawer.”

Sid whines, but he does what Geno says, rolling to his side and groping through their nightstand until his hand closes around a familiar toy—nothing too big, he’s not sure he has the patience it would take to open himself up for some of the stuff they have, but one with a curve that hits him just right.

His hand shakes as he spills lube over it, and Geno makes a strangled sound when Sid tucks a pillow under his hips, spreads his legs, and pushes the tip into himself.

He’s going too fast, especially since they have a game tomorrow, but he feels desperate, and when he opens his eyes Geno’s touching himself in earnest now, hand moving over his dick steadily.

“Please,” Sid gets out, licking his lips as he works the toy further into himself, hissing when it hits his prostate too hard. “Have I—is this enough, please can I blow you now, Geno—”

“No,” Geno says, working himself over with little grunts that Sid can practically feel, all the way from across the room. “Not enough. Fuck yourself, Sid, let me see it.”

Sid moans as he sinks the toy in further, twisting it so the curved tip rubs over his prostate with every thrust. It’s too much too fast, and he’s going to be sore tomorrow, but Geno wants a show, and Sid’s going to give it to him.

He loses track of the game as warmth builds low in his stomach. The hand on his dick slows as he gets into the feeling of fucking himself, clenching his thighs as they start to shake with every pass over his prostate. He can’t always come just from penetration, but this is really doing it for him, being spread out like Geno’s personal porn, and he thinks he can get himself there.

Sid can feel it building, arches his back and clenches around the toy as he speeds up his pace. Yeah, this is gonna be a good one.

“Stop,” Geno’s voice is shaky and turned-on, but Sid jolts, hand going still almost on instinct. “Sid, stop, come suck me off, now.”

Sid moans, but this is what Geno wants, so he pulls the toy out and staggers across the room, dropping to his knees between Geno’s thighs and opening his mouth.

Geno feeds Sid his dick, and Sid lets his eyes drift closed. He’s keyed up, trembling slightly from how close he was to coming, but he knows how to do this, knows how to relax his jaw and angle his head to let Geno’s dick slip into his throat, knows how to keep his lips and tongue soft so that when Geno finally thrusts into him, he groans long and loud above Sid.

“So good,” he praises, threading his fingers into Sid’s hair and holding his head still. “Baby, so hot, fuck, take it—” He trails off into Russian, and Sid lets the sound wash over him, sucking when he can and laving his tongue around the shaft when Geno presses deep and holds Sid’s face against his groin for long moments, fighting back his gag reflex.

It doesn’t take long. Geno clearly liked what he saw, had gotten himself halfway there before he called Sid over; all Sid has to do is breathe through his nose and let Geno hold him steady, until Geno’s coming down his throat with a loud moan.

Sid swallows, pulling back and blinking his eyes open. He’s dizzy, still so hard it almost hurts, and he clenches around nothing against the feeling of emptiness. His balls hurt. He needs to come.

All he can do is stare up at Geno, mouth open as he tries to catch his breath.

Geno’s still panting when he pulls Sid to his feet and tugs him back to the bed. He gets Sid on his back, and before Sid can even think of anything to ask for, he slides three fingers into Sid’s hole and bites down on his nipple.

Sid comes so hard every muscle in his body locks up. It’s so intense it almost doesn’t even feel good. There are tears running down his cheeks into his ears as he tosses his head back and forth.

Geno shushes him, keeps his fingers inside Sid as he gentles him down, only sliding them out when Sid gets oversensitive and tries to squirm away.

“Shit,” he finally sighs, rolling his shoulders back into the mattress. He feels like a bruise, hole throbbing and dick still twitching a little. His knees hurt.

It’s awesome.

Geno hums, pressing his palm down on Sid’s stomach. His hand is sticky with Sid’s come, but Sid can’t even bring himself to care about how gross he’s going to be. “Debt paid,” he half-slurs. “Good job.”

It takes Sid a minute. He’d completely forgotten their game.

#sidgeno #hockey rpf #my writing #my fic #24-25 series

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cutecurly-hair · 1 year ago

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Hearts Unleashed (Part 1)

Pairing: Nick Nelson x Black!fem!reader

Warning: Fluff, Smut in later chapters, Body Shaming

Words: 2234

Please interact and comment to keep it going. I always love to know what you think.

"What does this mean?" I stared at the piece of paper clutched tightly in my hand. My mom's eyes held an unmistakable unease as she replied, her voice tinged with worry, "This is our plane ticket to England."

Excitement bubbled up inside me as I glanced at the tickets. "We're going to England for a vacation! I had a feeling this year would be different. Do you think we can visit Paris while we're there? I heard it's just a quick train ride away."

My mom chuckled nervously, her laughter quivering. "That's the thing, honey, this isn't just a vacation; it's permanent."

My brows furrowed as I examined the ticket more closely, finally noticing the bold "ONE WAY" printed in the upper right corner. "What do you mean, one way?" Confusion washed over me, and I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

"It means we'll be officially moving to England. I applied for a new job there, and I got it," my mom explained as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She saw the panic in my eyes and hurriedly added, "I understand it's sudden, but I think this will be a great change for us. I've even found a fantastic school with an amazing film program that I know you'll love."

My mind raced. "I don't even know what to say. Why are you telling me this now?" My whole life was here in America, and the idea of packing up and moving to another country was almost too much to bear.

"Honey, I know it's sudden, but they called me today, and they need me to start immediately. That's why we have to leave tomorrow."

"Tomorrow! I don't even have time to pack, let alone say goodbye to my friends. We can't just uproot ourselves from LA and head to England." I looked around our apartment, a cozy haven that had been my home for the past seven years. It felt like things were finally getting back to normal.

I glanced at the ticket again and saw the fine print: Departing from LAX tomorrow at 10:45 am. "I should really start wearing my glasses," I muttered under my breath.

My mom tried to reassure me, "Everything will work out fine. I've hired movers to come during the week and help ship the rest of our stuff. Tonight, all we need to do is pack our personal things and head to the airport first thing in the morning."

I felt like I wanted to argue, but then I saw how tired my mom looked. Her face seemed really worn out, and she had a tired look in her eyes. It made me realize that maybe I hadn't been paying enough attention to how she was feeling lately.

I decided not to bring up my concerns because I didn't want to make things worse. I didn't want to fight with my mom when she already seemed so tired and stressed. So, I chose to keep quiet and let it go for now, even though I still had my worries.

As we stepped off the plane in London, the dark grey skies clouded my vision, and the unfamiliar air filled my lungs. Instantly, I began to miss home. With half of my life packed away in two large suitcases and three duffel bags, this was definitely going to take some getting used to.

"Have your other bags arrived yet?" my mom asked, her eyes darting to the time on her wrist.

"Sorry for making you wait," I replied with a sigh. "When you're packing your whole life into a bag, it tends to take a while." I was far from being in a good mood after only managing to grab a couple of hours of sleep, spending one of them writing an overly dramatic paragraph to my friends about where I'd be for the next few years.

"There's no need to get sassy with me, Y/n," my mom chided. "I'm just worried about the time. I don't want to be late for the shuttle. If we miss this one, the next won't be for another three hours. And I'm sure you don't want to spend that much time at the airport."

Before I could respond, I spotted my color-coded bags moving slowly along the conveyor belt. I collected them and loaded them onto a trolley, then couldn't help but add a mockingly sweet tone, "Now, we can go."

My mom led the way to the shuttle, looking a bit lost in the bustling airport. She approached a stranger for directions, and I listened intently, realizing I needed to get used to the distinct accent. My mom thanked the stranger urgently, and we hurriedly made our way to catch the shuttle, leaving behind the life I'd known in America.

Arriving at our new home in England I couldn't help that there was a mix of excitement and trepidation. I had seen pictures of the place, but it was entirely different to stand in front of it, knowing that it was going to be our home for the foreseeable future. My mom, ever the optimist, had put in tremendous effort to ensure it was the best flat on the block.

As we approached the building, I noticed the quaint charm of the neighborhood. Rows of terraced houses with colorful front doors lined the cobblestone streets. It was a far cry from the sunny, palm tree-lined avenues of Los Angeles that I had called home.

My mom had informed me earlier that her new job had provided relocation money, and she had spent hours researching and visiting potential flats to find one that met all our needs. She was determined to make this transition as smooth as possible for me, especially since I wasn't exactly thrilled about changing schools.

The flat itself was a cozy two-bedroom apartment on the top floor of a charming Victorian building. It had large windows that let in plenty of natural light, and I could see the spires of an old church in the distance. The living room had plush sofas, and I could just imagine the walls being adorned with artwork from home. She had even managed to find a flat with a small balcony where we could enjoy tea on sunny afternoons.

As we stepped inside, I couldn't help but be impressed by how homely it felt, despite being in a foreign country. My room, though smaller than what I was used to, had a window overlooking the quiet street below. I packed some of my posters and photographs from our life in LA, making it feel like a small piece of home.

As I unpacked my belongings, I couldn't help but reflect on the whirlwind of changes that had brought us here. My parents' divorce had been a long and sometimes painful process, but with me finishing up middle school, it seemed like the right time for a fresh start.

In my mom's perspective, this move was a chance for something new and exciting, a way to turn the page on a difficult chapter in our lives. But for me, I felt like I was just along for the ride, caught up in the decisions made by the adults in my life. It wasn't easy to accept that we were starting over in a completely different country.

While I tried to look on the bright side, I couldn't shake the feeling that my mom should have told me about it much sooner. The truth was that I was still deeply hurt and confused.

But as I glanced out the window of our new flat and saw the quaint streets of our new neighborhood, I knew that, in time, I would find my place in this new chapter of our lives. Change might not come overnight, but I was determined to make the most of it and find the silver lining in our fresh start.

—-----

A whole week had passed, and I swear my boredom had reached Olympic levels. Our furniture from LA finally showed up a few days ago, and let me tell you, I became the world champion of room redecorating in record time. But apart from that impressive feat, my life had all the excitement of a cardboard box. School isn't kicking off until Monday, which gives me a gentle nudge that I should probably check out the film program my mom's been raving about.

Feeling all organized and responsible, I sat down and sketched out the route from our place to the school. It's like a 20-minute walk, which I can totally handle once I get the hang of it. But if I'm feeling a bit lazy (which happens, like, all the time), there's a nifty 10-minute bus ride option. Plus, my mom's still knee-deep in paperwork to send our car overseas, so it's official I'm becoming a bus pro.

Then I checked out the school's website, and the film program doesn't look half bad. They've got this YouTube channel packed with short films that are more interesting than binge-watching cat videos. And here's the real kicker they've got a partnership with Netflix! I mean, seriously, how did they manage to pull that off? They're talking about workshops and internships, and I'm just here thinking,

"Who's the magician that got Netflix on board?" That seriously is impressive.

Looking out of the window, I couldn't believe my luck the sun was actually shining for once! After days of nothing but gray skies, it felt like a small miracle. I was starting to understand that sunny days were a rare commodity in this place. So, I thought, why not make the most of it while I could?

I swapped out my usual outfit for a pair of comfy shorts and a cool graphic tee. In a flash, I was out the door, ready to savor every bit of that precious sunshine.

As I continued my stroll through the neighborhood, I stumbled upon a charming park nestled amidst the houses. The sunlit meadow was dotted with people, and what caught my eye was the number of folks out and about with their dogs. It was becoming evident that this was definitely a big dog-loving community, and the park was their social hub.

I watched as playful pups frolicked, tails wagging with unbridled enthusiasm, and their owners chatted amicably, forming a tight-knit community within the community. It felt heartwarming to witness such camaraderie, and I couldn't help but smile at the sight.

I stumbled upon the perfect photo opportunity, one that would fit perfectly in my collection. I'd forgotten my camera at home, but my trusty phone would have to do. As I aimed to capture the moment, an unexpected collision sent my phone tumbling to the ground.

Before I could get a word out, the other person beat me to the punch. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going," he said, hastily bending down to retrieve both of our phones. It turned out he had dropped his phone as well.

I felt a flush of embarrassment creeping up. "No, no, it's alright. It was my fault for standing right in the middle of the walkway," I replied, cheeks tinged with a hint of red.

He handed back my phone with an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that. Hopefully, it didn't crack," he said, his own cheeks taking on a shade of pink.

I shook my head, trying to conceal my own embarrassment. "No big deal. You might have done me a favor, actually. It's about time I got a new phone, and this could be the perfect excuse," I quipped, waving my phone playfully. The boy chuckled warmly.

"Thanks for not making me feel awful about it," he admitted, appearing relieved. "I'm Charlie, by the way." He extended his hand, and I shook it with a friendly smile.

I responded, "I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you, Charlie." The friendly atmosphere that had enveloped us earlier seemed to dissipate, leaving an awkward silence in its wake.

Charlie finally broke the silence, his voice tinged with shyness. "Sorry, but I can't help but notice the accent..."

I smiled, realizing his curiosity. "Oh yeah, I'm from America. We just moved here last week, right down the block," I stated, hoping to ease the awkwardness.

Charlie's eyes lit up with excitement. "Right down the block! I live right down that way." I couldn't help but feel my own excitement grow.

"I live where the new flats were built, I think they're called the Avalone Suites or something," I mentioned. Charlie's face instantly lit up with recognition.

"I live right across from you! Everyone around the block has been raving about the new building," he exclaimed,

As Charlie and I walked back to my apartment, he chatted animatedly about the neighborhood, sharing tidbits about the local shops, nearby parks, and the best places to grab a bite. It was clear he was friendly and genuinely excited to have a new neighbor.

During our conversation, we made another delightful discovery – we were both going to the same school. It was a pleasant surprise that eased my earlier concerns about not knowing anyone in this new place.

By the time we reached my apartment building, Charlie had almost talked my ear off, but I didn't mind one bit. With a warm smile, I turned to him and said, "Thanks for walking me back, Charlie. I guess I won't be starting school completely alone."

Charlie grinned in response; his eyes filled with genuine friendliness. "Anytime, Y/N. I'm looking forward to seeing you at school."

We added each other on each other's socials before we parted ways.

Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/cutecurly-hair/727972531449020416/hearts-unleashed-part-2?source=share

#kit connor #black reader #nick nelson x reader #black!fem!reader #heartstopper #nick nelson x y/n #nick nelson fanfic #nick nelson x fem!reader #nick nelson x blackreader #charlie spring #heartstopper fanfic #heartstopper netflix #heartstopper fandom

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earthboundpenguin · 2 months ago

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So. All day today I was traveling back home from a work trip. First thing in the morning, when I was sitting on the shuttle at LAX to take me to my terminal, a middle-aged black man sat near me and we somehow (at stupid-dark-o-clock in the morning) clocked each other as kindred spirits on this dead silent shuttle ride. Maybe it was because of my fun patterned cat socks, or maybe the look of despair was easy to read on my face.

But first came the standard small talk: "You heading back home?" "Yep, to Florida." "Oh hey, me too."

[Commence more small talk about this year's hurricanes because that's what Floridian's do]

Then a little bit later, the man said to me, kind of softly, "So, this wasn't how I was hoping the election would turn out."

Me: "Yeah, I'm, uh, not exactly thrilled either."

Him: "Yeah. It's not gonna be great."

Me: "Not gonna lie, I'm kind of worried."

Him: "Me too. But hey, at least it's only 4 years, right? We just gotta survive til the next go 'round."

Me: "Yeah... Survive. I think we can manage that."

Him: "Yeah, let's do that."

So. That's my two cents of wisdom to carry forward. Survive. Survive so we can change things in the future. Hell, simply survive out of spite, to prove to those that want to take away our rights and safety that we will not go gently into that good night.

And always remember - you aren't alone. Whether it's your pocket internet friends, or a stranger you met at the airport and probably won't ever see again, we're all out here. Together. Surviving.

#election 2024 #long post

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all-the-things-2020 · 8 months ago

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Late Night Talking - Chapter Fifteen

Summary: Dieter and Emily spend Christmas with his brother’s family.

Word count: 7000+

Rating: PG all the way

Notes: I’ve never been to Vermont. The Christmas Market on Church Street in Burlington is real but all I know about it is what I saw on a quick Google search. Logan’s Candy in Ontario, CA is real, and so is the Parent Navel Orange Tree in Riverside. Everything else is made up.

Tag list: @rhoorl @avastrasposts @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @gwendibleywrites @weho2kcmo

Vermont was cold. I’d been to Big Bear during the winter, so I thought I knew what cold was, but I was wrong. California cold, even in the mountains, is nothing compared to New England cold. I huddled in the puffy coat Dieter had ordered for me as I scanned the line of cars in the pick up line at Burlington International. A blue Jeep Cherokee, Dieter had said, but there were so many SUVs and it was snowing lightly, so I had a hard time. Then I saw a familiar face hanging out of a passenger side window.

“Emily! Over here!” He waved his arm frantically, as if I wouldn’t notice him after he bellowed my name.

He hopped out and opened the back door for me. “Quick, get in out of the cold,” he said, taking my luggage around to the back. I slid into the back seat of the blessedly warm Jeep.

“You must be Freddy,” I said to the driver.

”And you have to be Emily,” he said with a smile. “Welcome to Vermont.” He was definitely Dieter’s brother; they had the same warm brown eyes and strong nose, but Freddy was clean-shaven, his hair neatly trimmed in a conservative cut, and the only piece of jewelry he wore was a simple gold wedding band. And his care was immaculately clean. Dieter’s car always had a few empty water bottles, Kit Kat wrappers and stray bits of clothing rattling around in it, plus an assortment of scripts and paperwork that he hadn’t gotten around to taking inside yet.

Dieter slammed the tailgate and dashed back into the car. “I always forget how fucking cold it gets here,” he said as he fumbled with his seatbelt. “You’re insane for living here.”

Freddy shrugged. “You get used to it. You’re just spoiled by that L.A. weather.”

Dieter twisted around in his seat to look at me. “You should have heard him the first winter after they moved here,” he said with a grin. “You look great, by the way.”

”I’m bundled up in this giant coat,” I replied. “You can barely see me.”

“I can see your face,” Dieter said. “And I missed it.”

”I missed you, too.” He’d been away filming most of the time since our Thanksgiving getaway. The shoot was in Toronto and he’d only been able to fly home for one weekend because of some delays on set due to weather and other complications.

Freddy pulled out into the Christmas Eve morning traffic. The airport was busy but not as crazy as LAX had been. Thank goodness for the airport shuttle, or I would never have made my flight in time. ”I hope I didn’t mess up your holiday plans too much,” I said. “Having to pick someone up at the airport is hassle enough, let alone on Christmas Eve.”

Freddy shrugged again. “Leila and the kids are busy baking, so I usually get banished to the living room anyway. And this one took a cab last night so I didn’t have to make two trips.”

“I am a very thoughtful brother,” Dieter said.

Freddy snorted. “I consider it a Christmas miracle.”

Dieter shoved his arm and Freddy poked him back with his elbow. Yeah, they were definitely brothers.

*********************************************************************

Freddy lived just outside Burlington so it wasn’t a long drive to his house. I couldn’t help but gawk at the snow. Everything looked like a Hallmark card.

“So we thought we’d take you guys down to Church Street this evening for the Christmas Market,” Freddy said as we turned down his street. “We went last week, but the kids don’t mind going again.” He chuckled. “Anytime they can have hot chocolate and donuts for dinner they’re happy.”

”Hot chocolate sounds amazing,” I said. “I might need an intravenous drip.”

”Don’t worry, babe, I’ll keep you warm,” Dieter said. “Bet you’re glad I bought you that coat now.” We’d had a bit of an argument over the coat. I’d told him I didn’t need such a fancy one, since I’d only be using it for a few days, but he insisted I’d freeze without it and we compromised by agreeing I could donate it to a women’s shelter before I flew home.

“I am,” I said. “You were right … this time.”

Freddy laughed. “That’s the way, keep his ego in check.”

We pulled up outside a two story middle class house decked out with strings of Christmas lights and a large plastic Santa on the lawn. “Ignore that,” Freddy said, gesturing toward the Santa, which was a bit faded and listing to one side. “He’s been in Leila’s family for ages and the kids won’t let us get rid of it. ‘But Dad, it’s tradition!’”

”I like it,” I said. “He fits in with all the snow. And traditions are important when you’re a kid.”

Dieter and Freddy exchanged a look and I knew I’d touched a nerve. Dieter hadn’t told me a lot about his childhood, but I knew enough to know that their mom hadn’t exactly been June Cleaver.

Freddy opened the door and we stepped into the house, which smelled like Santa’s workshop. Sugar, cinnamon, and cloves mixed with the scent of the six foot tall fir tree in the living room. My family had never had a real tree; my dad kept repairing the old artificial tree they’d bought when I was a year old and Mom and I had used it until she died, even though by that time it had shed a quarter of its needles and had to be carefully situated to hide the bald spot where one of the branches was missing.

“Uncle Dieter!” The kids came barreling toward us and collided with Dieter. Derek was twelve and Sasha was almost fourteen. Both were wearing silly aprons with elves on them.

“Hey, kiddos,” Dieter laughed, trying to hug both of them at the same time. “You just saw me like an hour ago.”

”We know,” Derek said. “But it’s funny.” He had the same glint in his eye that Dieter got when he had one of his “brilliant” ideas.

“And it’s not like we could run up and hug Emily or anything,” Sasha said. She seemed a bit more reserved than her brother.

”Why not?” Dieter said. “She’s very huggable.” He demonstrated by squeezing me in his arms.

”At least let me take my coat off first,” I managed to say once I could breathe again. “And introduce me properly.”

”Kids, this is Emily,” Dieter said. “Emily, the kids.”

Sasha rolled her eyes. “I’m Sasha,” she said, holding out her hand. “And this is Derek.”

I shook their hands. “Very nice to meet you both,” I said. “Your uncle has told me all about you.”

”All we know about you is that Uncle Deet thinks you hung the moon,” Derek said. Sasha swatted at him. “That’s what Dad said,” Derek protested.

“True, but that doesn’t mean you need to say it in front of her.” Leila came into the room, drying her hands on a kitchen towel. She was about my height and build. It seemed the Bravo brothers had a type. ”I’m Leila, by the way. And we are so happy to finally meet you.” She handed the towel to Sasha and hugged me warmly. “It’s good to see Dieter happy,” she whispered in my ear. “Thank you for that.”

”Now let’s get back to the kitchen before that batch of cookies burns,” Leila said briskly. “And let Emily get settled. We’ll have plenty of time to chat over lunch.”

Dieter carried my bags up the stairs. “We’re in the guest room,” he said. “Which is way better than the couch I used to crash on in that apartment Freddy and Leila had before he got the promotion.”

”You loved that couch,” Freddy called up the stairs. “As I recall, you even named it. Marlene, wasn’t it?”

”He’s full of shit,” Dieter said, shaking his head. “It was Maria. Because it was a problem. Like the song in ‘The Sound of Music.’”

”You are such a theater nerd.”

”I tried out for my high school production but I can’t sing to save my life,” he said. “Ended up being on the stage crew. And after that I vowed I’d never work on another play unless I was in the cast. The crew has to work too hard.”

******************************************************************

The day flew by. After I’d stashed my luggage, I joined Leila and the kids in the kitchen while Dieter and Freddy caught up in front of the TV. “I know it’s a total stereotype but that man is absolutely no use in the kitchen,” Leila told me as she handed me an apron.

“Dieter’s not much better,” I said. “He can cook if he has to, but he’s lazy about cleaning up after himself.”

”Freddy burned water once,” Leila said. “Put a pot on to boil for pasta, forgot about it and it boiled dry. Scorched the bottom of one of my best pots.”

”Mom banned him from the kitchen after that,” Sasha added.

I helped the kids decorate the sugar cookies and gingerbread men that had already come out of the oven while Leila finished cutting out and baking the last batch. “We’ve got time for one more kind of cookie before I have to start lunch,” she said. “Is there anything special you’d like to make, Emily? Something from your family? We already did the spritz cookies that my grandma used to make.”

”Do you have walnuts and powdered sugar? My mom always made snowballs. The cookbook calls them Russian tea cakes or Mexican wedding cakes, but her grandma called them snowballs.”

”We have that in our cookbook,” Derek said. “I saw it.” He pulled out a battered old Betty Crocker that looked a lot like the one my mom had used.

”Then snowballs it is,” Leila said.

While we mixed up the dough, the kids asked questions about my family traditions. They were shocked when I admitted I’d never celebrated a white Christmas or had a real tree. When I told them about the year I’d gotten a sweatsuit and a bunch of nice sweaters and it ended up being 80 degrees on Christmas Day and I had to wear a t-shirt to Grandma’s house, they thought I was teasing.

“No, seriously,” I said as I rolled the dough into balls and passed them to Derek to be placed on the cookie sheets. “I wanted to wear my new clothes so bad but it was too hot. Grandma had to turn the air conditioning on because the house got so warm from roasting the turkey.”

”Well, we’ll show you how to do Christmas the New England way,” Sasha said. “We can build a snowman and go sledding and have a snowball fight.”

”But don’t let Dad and Uncle Deet play,” Derek said. “They get too competitive. Last year I got beaned right in the face and Dad just told me to walk it off.”

When the cookies were ready for the oven, Leila shooed us out of the kitchen. “I won’t let them burn,” she promised. “But I need you all out of my way while I fix some lunch.”

We joined Dieter and Freddy in the living room, where they were watching the “A Christmas Story” marathon. We all squished onto the couch together, with me sandwiched between Dieter and Sasha.

“You smell delicious,” Dieter said. “Like butter and sugar.” He ventured a kiss on my jawbone, but I elbowed him.

”Not in front of the kids,” I hissed.

Ralphie’s dad had just received the Major Award when Leila called us to the dining room. Lunch was tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches, which brought back memories of sick days on the couch watching “The Price is Right” when I was a kid. As I looked around the table, I felt a wave of homesickness. I remembered meals with my parents when I was young, when we laughed and teased each other like Freddy and his kids did.

Dieter must have sensed my melancholy, because he reached out and squeezed my hand, his eyes concerned. I smiled at him and shook my head slightly to let him know I was okay. He winked and turned back to his soup, but slid his foot closer, tapping his shoe against my boot. He didn’t always know what to do, but he was always tuned into my moods. He claimed it was because the vibrations of our souls were compatible, and I wasn’t sure if he really believed it or was bullshitting me. Either way, it was comforting to know that he was always there for me.

***********************************

After lunch the kids insisted I go outside with them to build a snowman.

“She’s probably tired from the flight,” Leila said, but Derek starting singing “Do You Want to Build a Snowman” from Frozen and there was no way I could turn him down.

It was still snowing very lightly and I was so bundled up in my puffy coat and a borrowed beanie and mittens that I could hardly move. My boots weren’t as waterproof as they looked and soon my feet were frozen but I gamely helped the kids roll the snow in the front yard into a ball.

”This is hard work,” I managed to say. My glasses were fogging up from my breath and I couldn’t see very well.

”That’s why we made so many cookies,” Derek said with a grin. “We burn up so many calories out here.”

”Yeah, that’s just your excuse for eating more than your share,” Sasha said.

They started bickering and I took advantage of the momentary lull in snowman construction to rest a bit. I was out of breath and simultaneously sweating and frozen. It was wonderful.

”Merry Christmas!” A voice rang out and we turned to see a woman in a stylish ski outfit carrying a plate wrapped in foil.

Sasha groaned. “It’s Ms. Baker,” she said. “Our neighbor who mysteriously shows up every time Uncle Dieter’s visiting.”

Derek got that look in his eyes that I recognized all too well from his uncle. “Hey, Ms. Baker,” he called out. “Merry Christmas!”

”You guys making a snowman? How cute! I brought a rum cake for your parents.” She stared at me, clearly trying to figure out if she knew who I was. “Who’s your friend?”

”Oh, this is Aunt Emily, Uncle Dieter’s girlfriend,” Derek said with a cherubic smile. “They just flew in for the holiday. She’s from California and she’s never made a snowman before.”

Ms. Baker’s eyes narrowed. “Nice to meet you,” she said stiffly. “So, your uncle’s here? Good thing I made a big cake. I know how much he likes my rum cake.”

”Oh, but Uncle Dieter’s sober now,” Derek said with mock concern. “He won’t want any rum cake, will he, Aunt Emily?”

It took every fiber of my being to keep from laughing. The kid was good.

”A slice of rum cake isn’t the same as having a drink, though,” Sasha chimed in.

“Right, Aunt Emily? I mean, Mom and Dad let me have a little sliver last year.”

”We’ll have to ask Deet,” I said, silently thanking Sasha for giving me an extra few seconds to compose myself. “But even if he can’t have any, I can,”

Ms. Baker smiled tightly. “Well, you kids get back to your snowman. I’ll just go inside now.”

As soon as she was inside the house, the kids started giggling. “That was hilarious,” Derek said. “She always shows up and tries to flirt with Deet.”

”The look on her face when we said ‘Aunt Emily,’” said Sasha. “Oh, it was okay that we did that, right? It was just to mess with her. If you don’t want us to …”

”It’s fine,” I assured her. “And did your parents really let you eat rum cake last year?”

”Yeah,” she said, making a face. “It was kind of gross. But that might be because Ms. Baker does not live up to her name.”

Derek laughed so hard he fell over. When he had recovered, we got back to work on the snowman. My feet were blocks of ice but I was happier outside with the kids than going inside and pretending to be nice to Ms. Baker.

******************************************

We finally got the snowman finished and I went inside to get my phone so we could take a picture. Ms. Baker had left in a hurry, hardly speaking to us as she passed.

“What did you say to her?” I asked Dieter as I headed back outside.

”Who?”

”Ms. Baker.”

Dieter smiled, the same glint in his eye that I’d seen from Derek. “Oh, just mentioned I had a very special gift for you that I wanted to give you surrounded by my family.”

”You’re terrible,” I said.

“Freddy didn’t help,” Leila chimed in. “Dropping hints about ringing in the New Year in style.”

”I hate her rum cake,” Freddy said. “Tastes like stale pound cake soaked in rubbing alcohol. Maybe if she realizes Dieter’s not interested in her she’ll stop bringing us one every year.”

”Tell the kids they have twenty minutes and then they need to get their butts inside to change,” Leila said. “We’re leaving for the Christmas Market at three so we can get decent parking.”

******************************************************

The Market was amazing, like something out of a Hallmark movie. Lights twinkled, music filled the air and shop windows glowed with charming displays. We stopped at a stall that sold hot chocolate while Freddy fetched a dozen freshly made apple cider donuts from another stall nearby.

“Best. Dinner. Ever,” Derek declared around a mouthful of donut.

“Worst. Manners. Ever,” Freddy said, raising an eyebrow.

Sasha and Leila were whispering to each other and stealing glances my way. Dieter was absorbed in his own donut, making those weird little noises he always made when he ate something he really liked. I looked up at the darkening sky and watched the snowflakes spiral down.

“So …,” Leila said. “Sasha has an idea.”

”Um, I think … Emily should get an ornament for the tree,” Sasha mumbled.

”Yeah!” Derek cried. “She totally should.”

Freddy looked at Dieter, who came slowly back from wherever it was he went when he was savoring something. “What?”

”The kids think Emily should pick out an ornament for the tree,” Freddy said slowly.

Dieter’s eyes went wide. “You sure?”

”Yeah,” said Freddy. “I think it’s a good idea.”

”What’s going on?” I asked. Everyone seemed to be extremely concerned about the idea of me buying an ornament.

”Everyone has a special ornament that they put on the tree on Christmas Eve,” Dieter said. “Freddy and Leila and Sasha and Derek … and me. I only put mine on when I’m here for Christmas. It’s kind of a family tradition.”

”And you want me to get one, too.”

”Yeah,” said Sasha, biting at her lower lip.

I looked at Dieter, who was making puppy dog eyes at me. “Okay,” I said, feeling like I was agreeing to a lot more than just choosing a bauble for the tree.

Sasha and Derek dragged me to a booth that was hung with hand blown glass ornaments in all kinds of fancy shapes. “I have a soccer ball,” Derek said. “You have to pick something that’s important to you. Deet has a rubber ducky because he says he had one when he was little.”

”Dad wouldn’t let him buy the weed one,” Sasha explained.

I was fairly certain the rubber duck was not a fond childhood memory, because Dieter had once told me a rather off color story when he was still indulging in alcohol that I wasn’t entirely sure wasn’t true, but I didn’t think the kids needed to know that. I browsed the ornaments before settling on a sparkly orange wedge.

”An orange?” Derek asked.

“Where I live used to be famous for growing oranges,” I told him. “The original navel orange tree is in a protected enclosure in Riverside. It’s kind of a landmark. And there’s a historical park all about citrus fruits out there, too. Plus my mom said her grandma always told her a story about how her mother got her first orange in a Christmas stocking.”

”That’s pretty cool,” said Sasha, although Derek didn’t seem to agree. I paid for the ornament and the shopkeeper carefully wrapped it in tissue and packed it into a cardboard box with a picture of a reindeer on it.

We rejoined Dieter, Freddy and Leila and continued walking down the street. Suddenly Sasha and Derek started giggling and pointed up.

“What?,” said Dieter, looking around.

”Mistletoe!,” the kids cried out. Sure enough, there was a big bunch of mistletoe tied to the awning above us.

Dieter winked at me and slid his arms around me, dipping me slightly. “Got to give the kids what they want,” he said before kissing me very thoroughly. Finally, Freddy tapped him on the shoulder.

“Remember, you’re in public,” he said.

Dieter laughed and although he was wearing mittens, I was pretty sure he flipped his brother the bird as he stepped back from me. “They shouldn’t hang that stuff on the street, then,” he said. “I’m just saying.”

Freddy shook his head. “I can’t take you anywhere.”

****************************************************

By the time we got back to the house, it was snowing steadily. Freddy turned on all the lights in the living room while Leila fetched a green storage container with a red lid. “Okay, time for the ornaments and stockings!,” she said.

Freddy went first, hanging his old school typewriter; then Leila hung up her panda bear. Next came Sasha’s owl and Derek’s soccer ball, followed by Dieter’s rubber duck. Finally, I unpacked my orange slice and found an unobtrusive spot around the side.

Then Leila passed out the stockings, which were bright red felt and appliquéd with snowflakes and little trees. A handwritten tag hung from the loop of each one with the owner’s name in perfect calligraphy — including one that said “Emily.”

”Oh, you didn’t have to,” I protested as I looked at my brand-new stocking. The others were well worn and had clearly seen many Christmases.

”Yes, I did,” Leila said. “How else would Santa know you’re here?” She winked and both kids rolled their eyes.

I hadn’t hung a stocking since I was ten years old, when I’d declared that stockings were for “little kids.” I felt a lump in my throat as I placed mine on the hook next to Dieter’s.

“And now …” Freddy said, pulling out a box of matches. He carefully lit the candles on the mantel and a few others spaced around the room, then Derek flipped off the lights. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the tree lights and candles. Leila started a playlist of old-school holiday songs on the sound system and we all settled down. Freddy and Leila took the couch, the kids curled up on the rug in front of the fireplace, and Dieter pulled me into the overstuffed armchair to the side. It wasn’t quite big enough for two, so I ended up mostly in his lap.

”Are you sure?” I whispered, nodding toward the kids.

Dieter just tilted his head toward Freddy and Leila, who were snuggled up on the couch, her head resting on his chest and his arms wrapped around her. “It’s tradition,” Dieter whispered back.

We listened to Nat King Cole and Frank Sinatra for a few songs, then Freddy started telling a story about the year he was seven and Dieter was five and they found out their next door neighbors were Jewish and the kids got eight nights worth of presents instead of just one morning. Leila followed with the story of how her aunt decided she was going to make Christmas dinner instead of her mom and the turkey wasn’t cooked all the way through and everyone ended up making an excuse to leave early and they all ended up at McDonald’s.

“Tell the one about the air conditioning, Emily,” Derek said when he’d finished his own story about the year he thought he was only getting clothes because Sasha had convinced him that his letter to Santa had gotten lost on the way to the North Pole due to an elvish postal workers’ strike. “Dad didn’t hear it yet.”

Then it was Dieter’s turn. “My story is kind of boring,” he said. “It’s about my best Christmas ever and I’m not sure how it ends because it’s happening right now.” He squeezed me tightly. “I’m one hundred percent sober and I’m surrounded by all my favorite people and it’s snowing. You can’t get more perfect than that.”

”Doesn’t count,” Derek piped up. “You’re supposed to tell a funny one.”

”It just has to be memorable,” Freddy said. “And I think we’re all going to remember this one for a long time.”

”Yeah, it’s the first one with Emily,” said Sasha.

I felt tears in my eyes for the umpteenth time that day. How was it possible that I felt more at home with these people I’d just met than I ever did with my blood relatives? “Thanks, everyone,” I managed to say. “I’ll definitely remember this Christmas for the rest of my life.”

The clock on the mantel chimed nine and Leila clapped her hands. “Okay, kiddos, time for bed. Pajamas, teeth brushed and ready for tucking in by nine thirty.”

Both kids groaned. “Mom, we’re not five anymore,” Derek said.

”I know, but I need time to play Santa’s helper before I get to bed,” Leila said, “and you know you’ll both be up at the crack of dawn begging us to let you open presents. Besides, it’s tradition.”

Dieter yawned and stretched his arms wide. “I’m kind of tired myself,” he said. “It’s been a long day.”

Freddy shook his head. “Oh, get out of here. I know you just want to get out of helping.”

”I’m a guest,” Dieter said primly. “So is Emily.”

”You’re a freeloader,” replied Freddy. “But it’s Christmas. Consider it your present from me.”

Dieter wiggled out from under me and then helped me up. “Come on, let’s get upstairs before he changes his mind.”

As I unpacked my nightshirt, I remembered something. “I’ll be right back,” I said, grabbing a small box out of my luggage and trotting back downstairs. The lights were back on and Leila was already working on the stockings while Freddy was cursing in the hall closet as he pulled out presents from their hiding places.

”Here,” I told Leila, handing her the box. “I almost forgot. You can put these in the stockings. They’re handmade candy canes from a candy shop back home. They make them with real sugar and premium peppermint oil. I got a dozen, so we can each have two.” I didn’t keep up many holiday traditions anymore, but a trip to Logan’s Candy in Ontario was always on my list. Their canes were the best in the world.

”Thank you,” Leila said. “They look delicious!”

”Do you need any help?”

”No, you get back upstairs to Dieter,” she said. “Freddy and I are old hands at this. And I wasn’t joking about the kids being awake at the ass crack of dawn. You’ll be glad we all went to bed early.”

Dieter was already in bed when I got back to our room. I quickly changed into my sleep shirt and dove under the covers. Despite the heater, the house was chilly.

”Your feet are frozen!” Dieter gasped, pulling away from me.

I snuggled closer. “So help me warm them up,” I said. The man was like my own private furnace, which was good at times like this. In the summer, not so much. I tucked my feet between his calves and he pretended to shiver.

”Blocks of ice,” he muttered. “You’re so mean to me.”

“Then why are you kissing my neck?”

”Because you still smell like cookies,” he said. “And I haven’t seen you in ages.” His hands worked their way underneath my sleep shirt.

”Whoa, hold on,” I said. “Are you sure? I mean, it’s Christmas Eve. And the kids are right down the hall.”

Dieter snorted. “First of all, you aren’t any more religious than I am. And second of all, I’m sure Freddy and Leila do it all the time with the kids in the house.”

”Still, it feels sacrilegious.”

”It feels naughty,” Dieter corrected me. “And I don’t know about you, but the idea of Santa Claus watching us is kind of turning me on.”

”Eww!”

“He sees you when you’re sleeping, he knows when you’re awake, he knows if you’ve been bad or good, so be good for goodness’ sake,” Dieter crooned off key, followed by a trail of kisses down my throat. “Be good for me, baby. Let me unwrap this gift a little early.”

”Well, you have been a good boy lately,” I said. “Just try to be quiet for once.”

”So you want a silent night?”

”Shut up and kiss me, Dieter.”

**************************************************************

It was still dark when our bedroom door flew open and something large crashed onto our feet. “Merry Christmas!” Derek cried.

“You are so rude,” Sasha said from the doorway. “Get off them.” We all sat up, blinking at the overhead light that Sasha had flicked on. “What if they were naked?”

“Why would they be naked … ohhh!” Derek scrambled off the bed. “Gross! They’re Mom and Dad’s age.”

”Mom and Dad still do it,” Sasha said.

Derek made gagging noises. “That is not the image I want in my head on Christmas morning, Sash.”

”Okay, okay, we’re all up,” Freddy yawned from the hallway. “Give us a minute to use the facilities and we’ll go downstairs.”

”Yay!” Derek dashed out of the room while Sasha shook her head.

“Sorry about him,” she said. “He’s such a little kid sometimes.”

Freddy tousled her hair. “O wise and solemn adult, why don’t you put a robe on over your Hello Kitty pajamas so you don’t freeze?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a dad.”

Dieter was already shrugging into his beloved green bathrobe, which was starting to get bald in spots, but which he refused to replace because it was comfortable. “Yeah, Freddy, don’t be such a dad.”

”You stop talking, or you won’t get any pancakes,” Freddy said.

Dieter mimed zipping his lips and tossed my robe at me.

After a quick trip to the bathroom and a cursory brushing of teeth, we all trooped down to the living room, where a pile of presents had appeared underneath the tree and our stockings were bulging with treats.

“You really didn’t have to,” I told Leila as she handed me my stocking.

”And have you sit there without anything while we all dive in? No way.”

My candy canes were at the top, but underneath were chocolates, a tube of hand cream, a glass nail file, and a few other trinkets. “Just some fun girl stuff,” Leila explained. “Sasha’s a bit too old for toys but every woman enjoys a mini spa day.”

“Presents!” Derek said after he’d dumped out the contents of his stocking. “Time for presents!”

I curled up on the couch next to Dieter while the kids tore into their gifts. Dieter had had his shipped straight to the house for Freddy and Leila to wrap, so he was as excited to see them as the kids were.

”No way!” Derek cried as he unwrapped a massive Lego set of the Millenium Falcon. “Thank you, Uncle Deet!”

Sasha squealed as she opened a brand new iPad mini. “This is exactly the one I wanted. Thanks, Uncle Deet!”

Dieter was grinning from ear to ear as both kids danced around.

“You’re spoiling them,” Freddy said.

”I’m their rich uncle. I’m allowed.”

After the kids finished opening their presents, we all got dressed and Leila made pancakes for breakfast. Mountains of pancakes with real maple syrup. Dieter and Freddy got into a pancake eating contest that ended only when Dieter was forced to concede because Derek had taken the last one and Leila refused to make any more.

“I need to get the turkey in the slow cooker if we want to have dinner tonight,” she said when Dieter tried to wheedle just one more pancake out of her.

”I bet if Freddy needed one more pancake to win you’d make it,” Dieter whined.

”No, she wouldn’t,” Freddy said, carefully cutting up his final — winning — pancake. “But tell you what, since you are my brother and it’s Christmas … you can have half and we’ll call it a tie.” He counted the pieces on his plate and slid exactly half of them onto Dieter’s plate.

”And the winners get to do the dishes!” Leila said as soon as their plates were clean. Both men groaned, but cleared the table with a minimum of grumbling.

”What can I do to help?” I asked.

“Nothing,” replied Leila. “Which is what I’m going to be doing as soon as I get that bird in the roaster.”

”Help me with my Lego,” Derek said.

”No, help me set up my iPad,” Sasha offered.

”How about if she supervises you both until we get done in the kitchen,” Freddy said. “I want to work on that Lego, too.”

”Me three!” Dieter chimed in.

Soon we were all back in the living room, the boys on the floor sorting Lego pieces and arguing over whether they really needed the directions or not. Leila helped Sasha set up her Apple account, and then we started browsing the App Store. It was cozy, with the tree lights blinking and the scent of maple syrup still lingering in the air.

“Thank you,” I said to Leila.

”For what?”

”For including me. I know it has to be weird having a stranger in your house at Christmas.”

“You aren’t any stranger than Dieter,” she quipped. “Seriously, though, you are very, very welcome. Freddy’s told me how different Dieter has been since he met you, and we’re so happy about it. They were pretty close when they were little but things got strained there for a while, especially after their parents divorced. Dieter felt like they had to choose sides and he couldn't understand why Freddy was still talking to their dad. Then when their mom died … Dieter kind of closed himself off from everyone. It’s good to see him connecting again.”

”That’s not just me,” I said. “He’s been on that path for a while, ever since he started rehab the first time.”

”But you’re a big part of it,” Leila insisted. “Freddy said there was a big change after you and Deet started dating. You’re good for him. And I think he’s good for you.”

Dieter looked up, one eyebrow raised. “Are you talking about me?”

”Of course,” Leila said. “Everyone everywhere is always talking about you, Dieter. You’re a celebrity. The world revolves around you. Geez, get over yourself.” She rolled her eyes and when Dieter had turned back to the Lego, we both giggled like kids.

**************************************************

”I don’t know about this.”

Sasha and Derek had talked me into going to the sledding hill with them that afternoon. Now we stood at the top of a very steep incline with our plastic disks and I watched kids wiping out right and left.

”You’re fine,” Derek said. “It doesn’t hurt when you fall off, anyway.”

”Maybe not if you’re young and bendy,” I said. “But I’m old and stiff.”

”Mr. Gruenberg still sleds,” Sasha said, pointing out an older man with a neatly trimmed white beard who was whooping as loudly as his grandkids were.

”I bet he’s been doing it all his life,” I replied. “I’m from California. I went sledding once, on the side of the road when I was seven and it wasn’t nearly this long or this steep.”

”If you’re gonna be part of this family, you have to learn snow sports,” Derek said. “Sledding is the first one. Next time we’ll get you on skis.”

Sasha shrugged. “You kind of have to learn how to ski and snowshoe and stuff when you live in Vermont,” she said. “Otherwise you’d be stuck indoors half the year.”

I was still stuck on Derek’s offhand remark about being part of the family. I knew that being invited to spend the holidays with someone’s family was a huge step in a relationship, and people would make a lot of assumptions, but it fully hit me at that moment that these kids might just become my niece and nephew someday. That Freddy and Leila could be my brother and sister. For an only child, it was both a dream come true and the weirdest feeling imaginable.

“Okay, you convinced me,” I said, trying to get my brain back to the present. “So what do I do?”

Derek demonstrated, hopping onto his sled and sliding down the slope with a wild yell.

“Ready?” Sasha asked. ��On the count of three. One … two … three!” She and I jumped onto our sleds and hurtled down the hill. It was disorienting and bumpy and scary and out of control. I loved it.

*************************************************************************

As we were putting our luggage into the back of the Cherokee the next morning, I pulled Freddy aside. “Thank you so much,” I told him.

“For what?”

”For making me feel like part of the family. I know it must be weird to have your brother bring some strange woman home.”

Freddy held up his hand. “First of all, we should be thanking you for making Deet happy. He’s an asshole sometimes, but he’s my asshole and I love him. And second of all, you are part of the family. Dieter loves you and so do the rest of us. Look, I know Deet’s probably told you I cautioned him not to rush into anything, to take his time with this but … I might have been wrong. Maybe he does know a good thing when he sees it. Maybe his instincts were right. Or maybe he’s an idiot and he just got lucky.” He winked and hugged me. “Take care of him, okay?”

“I will.”

”You okay?” Dieter asked when he helped me into the car. I might have been sniffling a little.

”Yeah, I’m just … gonna miss them.”

”Me, too,” he said, kissing my forehead. “They’re good people.”

”They’re your people, so of course they are.”

*****************************

Toronto was nothing like Vermont. For one thing, Dieter was back on set at 7:00 am the morning of the 27th and working ten to twelve hour days to make up for the lost time over the holidays. I didn’t see much of him except at night, but it was okay. We were together and I got to see what his life was really like for the first time.

I spend my days reading or shopping or watching movies on Netflix. Not too much different from how I normally spent Winter Break at home, except for having Dieter next to me every night.

“Now I know why you always looked so tired when you FaceTimed me,” I told him one evening after dinner. He’d been on set for eight hours already and had to go back for a couple more hours of night shoots on location.

“Yeah, they’re really pushing us on this one,” he said, rubbing his hand across his face. “The studio wants it in on time and under budget and because of the holidays the director is super stressed out. But he did promise we’ll be done by nine on New Year’s Eve and get all of New Year’s Day off.”

Our hotel was holding a New Year’s Eve party in the ballroom but neither of us was really in the mood when the day rolled around. Dieter was tired and didn’t want to be around all the champagne, while I was lonely and just wanted to spend some time alone with him. So at the last minute we kicked off our shoes and ordered a bottle of sparkling cider sent to our room, along with an assortment of hors d’ouerves, for our own private party.

Our balcony faced the harbor, so we’d have a good view of the city’s fireworks display. It was bitterly cold out there, though, so we stayed inside until just before midnight. It was cozy on the little couch and it was tempting to just ignore the festivities and make some sparks of our own.

”No,” Dieter said. “We have to watch the fireworks. I love fireworks. Besides, this is our very first New Year together. We have to do it right. Make a toast. Kiss at the stroke of midnight.”

So at 11:55 we braved the cold, taking our glasses of cider out onto the balcony with us. We had the TV turned up so we could hear the official countdown. Ten. Dieter leaned against the balcony rail, a gentle smile on his face. Nine. He raised his glass. “To us.” Eight. I clinked the rim of my glass against his. Seven. “To us.” Six. We took a sip. Five. He turned around to face the harbor. Four. I leaned against the railing next to him. Three. He laid his hand against my cheek. Two. I tilted my face up toward him. One. He kissed me. “Happy New Year,” he whispered.

I looked out at the fireworks bursting across the sky. Dieter had his arm around me and I felt warm despite the Canadian winter night. We could hear the cheers and noisemakers from the party downstairs but I knew there was nowhere else in the world I’d rather be at that moment than next to Dieter, toasting the year we’d had and all the years to come.

”Can I ask you something?” I said.

”Of course,” he said, laying his cheek against the top of my head.

”Will you marry me?”

#late night talking #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x ofc #dieter x Emily #the bubble fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #fluff pure and simple #holiday themed

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dirtybitfic · 1 year ago

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Neon red ( Matt sturniolo fan fiction)

⚠️-chasing, woods, making fantasies a reality,smutty smut smutttttt coming in part two( don’t read if it ain’t your vibe 💋)

( play this song once it gets to the woods scene 🫡 trust and believe it makes it 100 times better)

Y/n pov-

Me and Matt have been best friends for so long we just understand each other on a level no one else does .

We had a whole trip to a cabin in Oregon planned with me , Matt , Chris, Nick and a couple other friends but they all had to cancel since Chris got invited to a music event he’s wanted to go to for years and Nick and everyone else just weren’t feeling it anymore.

It’s not a big deal that you and Matt were going alone but you were nervous since you haven’t gone on a trip just the two of you let alone to a remote cabin in the middle of !NO WHERE! but none the less Matt was excited to get off the grid for a couple days and relax.

You packed a good amount of warm clothes since the trip was for a week and a half and it was gonna be a little cold since it was fall . You packed a couple bikinis too since the place had a hot tub which was Chris’s request but you weren’t mad about it.

You finished packing and called matt to tell him your packed and ready for your 3 am flight and he can come pick you up when he is ready.

Matts pov-

Text to y/n

Matt-Hey I’m otw be there in about 10 y/n- kk sounds good

I’m excited for this trip me and y/n have always talked about wanting to go to Oregon in fall since we absolutely love fall and Oregon is so pretty during fall.

I turned on some music otw to pick y/n up . As I was driving I started to get a little nervous thinking about how it’s just gonna be me and her on the trip but I’m not upset about it since she’s one of the only people I can be authentically myself around without any judgment. I love having her in my life and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I also have something to talk to her about that might make shit very awkward but ig we’ll find out

I texted her that I was outside as I pulled up and hopped out and popped the trunk so I could put her suitcase in the back

She came out and smiled at me while she locked the door .I took her suitcase from her and gave her a hug and put it in the trunk while she hopped into the car

Y/n pov- god Matt I’m so exited you don’t even know and best believe I’m going to force you to take insta pics for me

Mat just laughed and rolled him eyes a little bit knowing you’d say that . About 30 minutes later you got to the lax airport, parked the car and got onto the shuttle that took you to the south west terminal. You guys got through security quickly given you both have tsa precheck

You made it to your boarding spot and sat for about 20 minutes before you guys boarded the plane

After a 2 and a half hour flight you landed in Oregon you went to baggage claim and grabbed your bags and then picked up the car Matt had rented it was an all black jeep with red interior. You threw your bags into the trunk and got on the road . It was about an hour drive to sandy which is where the cabin was .

You drifted off to sleep since you had pulled an all nighter .

Matt shook you awake softly as you opened your eyes you saw nothing but the woods and cabin . you smiled him still a little groggy and he told you to go inside and he’d bring in y’all’s bags . You gladly obliged and went to unlock the door with the key the owners left under the doormat and walked in . it was so cozy and dark in the cabin which is exactly why you picked it. You went up to find the master bedroom since you had to pee really bad and after the long flight and ride.

Matt’s pov-

I brought in the bags and walked up the stairs to the master bedroom setting our bags down I went into the closet to start hanging up some stuff as y/n walked out and grabbed her bag to start doing the same . After I finished hanging my stuff I turned to hug her from the back and she giggled a little as she rapped her arms over mine and leaned back a little into my chest my heart fluttered and I don’t know why but she makes my heart flutter from small sweet things she does.

We walked out of the closet and I decided to order some pizza and start a fire since y/n said she was gonna take a shower and boy does she love her hour long showers .

The pizza just got here and I payed the driver and went to set it on the dark green and marble island as I heard y/n walk down the stairs. I saw she had taken one of my big fluffy sweatshirts I had brought and was wearing it with thigh high fluffy socks . She loves to take my sweatshirts since their so big on her and I don’t mind cause she looks so cute in them.

Y/n pov-

Hey sorry I took your sweatshirt I just felt like wearing it it’s so big and comfy you said to Matt as you saw him starring at you .

Oh no I don’t mind Matt said it looks good on you . You blushed from the compliment and sat down at the island to start eating after you guys finished Matt put y’all’s plates in the sink and said you should go sit in the living room and pick a movie to watch .

You sat right in front of the fire Matt had started and zoned out staring into the flames.

Matt came in and sat next to you and rapped his arm around your back rubbing softly bringing you out of your trance you leaned into his shoulder

Something on your mind he asked

Oh no, was just watching the fire the flames are so pretty to me you said laughing a little he looked down at you and took a breathe before speaking

Matt’s pov-

I’ve been wanting to bring something up to y/n but I’m feeling a bit nervous since it’s a little weird

Y/n I spoke kind of nervously

She looked up at me hearing my nervous voice yeah she said

I looked deeply in her eyes I have this fantasy I’ve been thinking about and your always the person that comes to mind I said

Alright well you know you can tell me anything Matt so spill she said with a little smirk

Okay well… I kinda wanna I paused to rub my neck with my hand nervously I wanna chase you through the woods and if I catch you I fuck you right in the woods with nothing but darkness surrounding us

Y/n fully turned to face me shocked by what I said she had a deep red flush across her face as she took a shaky breathe before she spoke you’ve fantasied about this a lot ? She questions with a small smirk

Yes so many times I say

She looked so deep in my eyes and said okay I’ll do it

I was taken back from her words you … you will I said still shocked

Absolutely 100 percent I’ve fantasized about something exactly like this after reading my favorite book haunting Adeline she says smiling wider I took her hand and brought us both to our feet I leaned down and kissed her deep and sweetly I told her to go put on some shoes she ran up to the room and I watched as she giggled .

God I can’t wait to catch her I thought as I felt myself grow harder from the thoughts of what I’m going to do to her

Y/n pov-

I cant believe this is happening and I never thought Matt would be into this kinda thing that’s why I never brought up my fantasy with him but fuck me I am already wet from the thoughts I practically flew back down the stairs to meet him in the living room

I’m gonna give you a 15 second start and your gonna run as fast as you can and just know that when I catch you I’m not gonna be sweet and calm Matt says

I hope you wouldn’t be after all im the prey and predators don’t play nicely you say Matt walks to open the door and looks at you with darkened eyes better start running slut he says he starts counting you take no time to start sprinting down the stairs into the dark woods you realized after you were getting deeper in the woods you have no light illuminating your way other than the moon which was partly covered by the dark clouds . Usually cloudy nights are your favorite but you started to get a little scared from how dark your surroundings were

You heard Matt calling your name in a very predatorial way causing chills to run up your body you start running faster getting smacked by branches left and right of you definitely leaving scratches on your exposed legs but you didn’t care you were just running you started to get out of breathe so you hid behind a tree waiting to hear any sign of Matt getting closer

The silence deafening as you started to get even more turned on knowing he would catch you sooner or later

You heard Matt calling out y/nnnn he called in a haunting way causing you to shiver from fear and arousal he was definitely closer than before you put your hand up to your mouth to try and silence your breathing you started hearing twigs snap to your left causing you to spring up and run in the opposite direction you tripped over a fallen tree and screamed out from your hard landing onto the rough ground you groaned from the pain and in seconds Matt was right above you breathing so hard you could see his breathe in the cold air

He laughing so sadistically causing your breathe to hitch and you to shiver

Caught you… Matt says so deep and dark you let out a moan from the possessive tone in his voice

…. Pt.2 coming right after this since this part is getting long asf

Be ready bitches shits boutta get nastyyyyy😈🫡

#woods #fantasy #dirty nasty #matt sturniolo #smut #part 1/2 #Spotify

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karatekels · 1 year ago

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Fresh Start - Day 12 (Part 2)

Can't stop, won't stop - this fic is almost done! I hope no one is too mad at me for the cliffhanger of the last part, but if you are, hopefully this part makes up for it a bit!

---

Day 12 - Night

--- Reader’s POV ---

You finally burst through the door to your hotel room, locking it behind you and collapsing onto the bed, finally letting your sobs out without trying to hold them back. It had taken you almost two hours to get home; you’d had to pull over to the side of the road more than once, your tears blurring your vision, your body shaking uncontrollably.

That kiss…

Even in your completely disheveled state, tears covering every inch of your face, you can still feel your lips tingling at the memory of Terry kissing you. It had been everything, it had been perfect, and you couldn’t even fault yourself for your moment of weakness; you had lost all reason the moment his lips had touched yours. If you hadn’t had that one brief flash of lucidity as he had picked you up in his strong arms… if you hadn’t stopped it then and there, you knew that you never would have been able to. And it would have been amazing, you were sure; the passion that Terry had poured into his kisses nearly rivaled your own, and, in true Terry fashion, he was as great at kissing as he was at everything else. And you had thrown it all away… he wouldn’t forgive this.

Forcing yourself off the bed, you grab your suitcase and immediately start packing, throwing everything in haphazardly. There was no point in staying here anymore; the only good thing to come out of L.A. was meeting him, and now… you choke back a fresh round of sobs.

The whole point of coming here had been to get a break, so that you could go back home and try to have a fresh start. Instead, you would be leaving with more jumbled and raw emotions than you had arrived with. You’re heartbroken, and it was all your own fault; you should have put a stop to this the moment you felt yourself getting closer to him. You’re furious with yourself for letting things go on for as long as they did, for kissing him back, for leaving the way you did. And you feel so horribly guilty; you knew Terry was a lonely person – he’d told you as much himself on numerous occasions – and still you had persisted, first in a friendship with him, and then with more romantic interest, just to take it all away from him in an instant. You hope he hates you; it’s the least that you deserve.

As you check the hotel room to make sure you’re not forgetting anything, you try desperately to get yourself marginally more under control, blowing your nose and splashing your face with cold water to try to do away with the red puffiness, but it doesn’t do much. It didn’t matter; it was late, and you were never going to see any of these people again. You just had to check out, return the car next to rental place next to the airport, and then take the shuttle over to LAX and find the next flight home. If you lucked out, maybe you’d make it before the sun came up.

Opening the door, you turn to grab the handle of your suitcase to tow it behind you.

“You weren’t going to leave without saying goodbye to your only friend here, were you?”

Yelping in surprise, you spin around to see Terry taking up most of the doorway with his large form. Before you can get a word out, he steps forward, backing you into the room and closing the door behind him.

“T-Terry, I,” you stammer, feeling a fresh wave of tears approaching as you stare up at him. He seemed frantic, nearly wild as his eyes dart from your face to your suitcase to the lack of belongings around the room. It seems to have dawned on him just how close he had come to arriving too late.

“You never struck me as someone who went back on their promises, Y/N,” he states almost sternly, taking another step towards you, and you flinch. No part of you thought that Terry would ever hit you, but maybe he would verbally tear you to shreds the way you undoubtedly deserved.

“Sit down, please,” he says, gesturing to the chair, and you obey without question, staring at his shoes as he stands in front of you. You brace yourself for the yelling, but it never comes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, so softly that you almost think you’ve misheard him, because what on earth could he possibly have to apologize for?

“W-What are you talking about?” you ask, your hands starting to shake. You grip the armrests of the chair, digging your nails into the rough fabric to try to stop yourself from trembling.

“I’m sorry,” he emphasizes, speaking up. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I never meant to scare you or overwhelm you. I just… I got caught up in the moment, I couldn’t help myself.”

You stare up at him dumbly, completely speechless.

“This isn’t fair to you, I know,” he continues, starting to pace around the room with his hands in his pockets, coming to a stop in front of the window, looking out onto the city. “I’ve had so much more time, decades more time, waiting and trying to imagine who I was meant to be with, and when she would come into my life, if she ever would.”

You bring your legs up onto the chair, wrapping your arms around your knees and trying to squeeze yourself together to keep any noise from escaping you. He blamed himself for you leaving? The very idea that he was responsible for your cowardice, for your reprehensible treatment of him, almost makes you nauseated.

“But you haven’t been looking nearly as long, maybe not at all, and it’s… it’s not fair of me to push all of this on you so suddenly the way I have.”

He turns to see you curled up on the chair, and you through your teary eyes blinking up at him over your knees, you see that the sight of you has him close to crying himself. His legs seem to move towards you of their own accord, and he gets on his knees in front of you, stroking the back of your hand with a knuckle, wanting to comfort you without doing too much and spooking you. Recognizing this, you merely bury your face into your knees, your whole body wracked with silent sobs, refusing to give yourself the relief of letting out the cries of anguish that are building up inside of you. You don’t deserve relief; you certainly don’t deserve comfort from him.

“I know I’m being horribly selfish right now,” he murmurs consolingly, running his hands up and down your arms soothingly. He thought he was the selfish one? He didn’t see himself clearly at all.

“It’s selfish, and it’s wrong, but I need to lay it all out for you before you leave, or I’ll be kicking myself for the rest of my life,” he explains, going back to pacing around the room, feeling him moving around the space even though you can’t hear or see him. You are again taken aback by just how quickly you had seemed to become attuned to one another.

“I’ll make this short, Y/N: I’ve been waiting my whole life for you, I know I have. And if I have to wait awhile longer for you to feel the same, then I will wait happily. All I’m asking for right now is for you to stay as long as you had planned to. We still have almost two days to talk about this, and see if there’s a way to make this work. I will do anything if it means you’ll give us a chance; I’ll fly you here whenever you want, I’ll come visit you, I’ll meet your mother, whatever it takes. I just can’t let you throw this away, not knowing that there’s at least a little part of you that wants this too. Please stay, Y/N. Give me just these last few hours I have you here, and we can figure this out, I know we can.”

You are so shocked by the depths of his confession that you stop crying, your breath coming in irregular gasps as you try to regain your composure. Lifting your head out of your lap, you see that he is sitting on the edge of the bed, his head hanging down as if in defeat. How could this man, with all his sweetness and kindness and perfection still want to be with you? The very idea was ludicrous, and you would tell him as much.

“You’re ridiculous, Terry Silver.”

He turns his head to meet your eyes, his features starting to pull into their emotionless mask.

“You wait all this time, and you think that I’m the best option the universe has for you?” you ask jokingly, laughing breathlessly through your tears. He cracks a grin, and you break into a beaming smile, getting off of the chair and walking over to him nervously.

“You’re it, Y/N,” he replies, and the confidence with which he makes this declaration helps bolster your own. He takes your hand, placing it on top of his heart, and you can feel the thrum of it beneath your finger tips even through his shirt and suit jacket.

“It’s all yours,” he promises you, staring deeply into your eyes, and you find you can’t look away. “I’m all yours. Check for yourself.”

“How?” you ask quietly, unsure of what he means.

“Check my pocket.”

Your hand shaking slightly, you slide your fingers into the front pocket of his jacket, knowing before you’ve pulled the object out that it’s the embroidery you had gifted him. You clutch it in one hand, starting to feel overwhelmed by everything again, and you close your eyes, taking deep, calming breaths. It was okay to feel this way; this was new, and exciting, and it was so much, so fast. You were terrified of all this, but who better than Terry to keep you feeling calm and safe and cared for?

“This is just so much, so soon,” you whisper. “I’m… I’m scared of feeling this way.” He had been so honest and open with you; you owed it to him to do the same.

“I can’t promise that this will be easy all the time,” Terry confesses, stroking your cheek softly; you lean into the touch naturally, sighing deeply. “But I can promise I will do everything in my power to make this as smooth as possible.”

“We will do everything in our power to make this as smooth as possible,” you correct him sternly, watching the way his eyes light up at your words. Still clutching the embroidery, you wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him softly. His arms come around your back, rubbing it in comforting circles. He was always so caring, trying to put you at ease with his every move; you would work to do the same for him.

“I think I’m going to fall very, very hard for you,” you murmur against his lips, looking into his eyes. A pleased rumble emanates from somewhere in his chest, and he pecks your lips once more affectionately.

“I have felt that way from the moment I met you, my dear,” he replies, and you kiss him again, running your fingers through his lovely soft curls, just letting yourself be in the moment. This could never work if you were always worried that it wouldn’t; you had to let this unfold and trust that it would work out. Or, at the very least, trust Terry to know what he was talking about. Silly as it seemed, the latter option is far easier for you to buy into.

Eventually, you break apart to catch your breath, just holding each other, your foreheads resting against one another.

“So… what happens now?” you ask nervously, nibbling your lip. Terry stops you by running his thumb along your bottom lip, and you blush, feeling like you’re being scolded for your bad habit.

“Well, your bags are already packed; you may as well come home with me.”

You swallow, your mouth dry, your body tensing up at the suggestion; but rather than being from fear or nerves you feel only a wave of desire. Terry, however, seems to assume otherwise.

“I’ve got a whole floor of bedrooms for you to choose from,” he says reassuringly. “I meant what I said before, Y/N; we can take this as slowly as you need to.”

You give him a shy smile, taking his hand and tugging it until he stands up.

“Okay,” you agree softly. “Let’s go home.”

You check out of the hotel just before midnight, driving off with Terry. He keeps one hand on your thigh for most of the drive, as if he was afraid that you were going to disappear again. You stroke the back of his hand softly, content with how relaxed and comfortable you are at the moment, wanting him to feel the same.

“Don’t worry,” you tell him, still tracing patterns on his skin. “I’m not going anywhere.”

---

#terry silver #thomas ian griffith #terry silver x reader #cobra kai #eventual smut #like next chapter eventual #lord it's coming #fresh start

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