#and I have yet to wrap presents for my aunt

[sodacowboy]

hey remember when box cake mixes had enough mix for two round pans

[i-like-writing-stuff]

never changing [ five hargreeves x reader ]

a/n: hi y’all! it’s been a hot minute since i’ve been on here, but after the absolute shit show that season 4 was, some sparks ignited in me to write up anything to take my mind off it 🙌

its not anything crazy, just fluff and banter since i haven’t written anything in years so it may be as poorly redacted as this season lmao

summary: five and y/n attend their niece birthday party together, yet separate

“Happy birthday, little Gracie!” You smiled widely, trying not to drop the wrapped present box as the six year old girl jumped into your arms, “Oh my gosh, look at you! You’re just getting prettier by day, aren’t you?”

You had just got off work in a hurry to make your appearance at the little girl’s birthday party at a decent time, in spite of the amount of paperwork you managed to bury yourself in lately. You knew how much it would have meant for the celebrated one to show up and you couldn’t bear to let her down, especially on her birthday.

After spending most of your life working for the Commission, and then a decent amount of time exhausting yourself in trying to stop multiple Apocalypses, your last six years have been pretty quiet as a lawyer. You really wanted to get out of the whole assassin thing, but at the same time couldn’t exactly move on from the thrill of the work field. Your career as a lawyer took off really well these past years, but inevitably it came along with the cost of always being stuck at work, so whenever your niece got the chance to see you, she was truly enthusiastic.

“Auntie Y/N!” She wrapped her tiny arms around your neck, engulfing you into a tight hug, “You are here!”

Nonetheless, these six years have been truly and undeniably the most peaceful time of your life for as long as you could remember.

“You literally saw each other the other day,” Five raised a brow, watching you and the celebrated one act as if you hadn’t seen each other in years.

You and the little girl shared a look, before rolling your eyes and turning to glare at the man next to you. Ever since Grace learned how to talk, you and her would gang up on her uncle for your amusement, especially since he was so keen on entertaining the banter.

These past six year have gone by in the blink of an eye, yet at the same time at a slow and steady pace. You spent most of your time working anyway, but still kept in touch with the seven siblings you’d grown to love.

Some in different ways than others.

“Uncle Five, you’re always more excited than me to see Aunt Y/N,” Gracie waved him off, making you burst out laughing, “Jealousy isn’t a good look on you anyway.”

“What is a good look on him anyway?” You smirked, making the little girl laugh, as Five swept her into his arms;

“Okay, munchkin, it’s your birthday today, but tomorrow I’m going back to bullying you,” He joked, causing you both to laugh, before the two shared a hug before you, “You’re lucky your gift has no return policy.”

The party had already started by the time you made it there. The playground was huddled by other kids around Grace’s age, along with their parents. The music was playing loudly over the laughter of children and you were pretty sure that most of the family had already arrived. It was not the most ideal gathering, but you tried your best to keep in touch with most of the family to your best capabilities.

“Y/N, I’m so glad you could make it!” Luther smiled, appearing from the crowd of guests, immediately giving you a big hug as his niece was still wrapped around Five, “Haven’t seen you since Thanksgiving!”

“Big shot lawyer doesn’t always have the time to stay in touch with family, huh?” Diego teased you, following suit, as you rolled your eyes, dropping off his daughter’s gift in his hands.

“Big shot delivery driver doesn’t know the phone works both ways, huh?” You smirked, putting your hands on your hips.

Diego laughed out loud as he gave you a hug, always in the mood for a back and forth short banter with you. After all, you truly were family, even if you didn’t always have the time to be present in the Hargreeves’ day to day lives. You may have met them in the original timeline in 2019, when you accidentally time traveled with your former partner at the Commission, Five, but after all you’ve been through, you didn’t need to have grown up together or be blood related to be considered that. And you truly were grateful for each and every single one of them, in spite of the many differences over the years.

After everything that’s happened six years ago at Hotel Oblivion, everyone went their separate ways. Allison was back with her daughter while trying to further her acting career and also help Klaus stay on the sober line, Viktor had moved to Canada where he opened a bar, Diego and Lila had three kids, Luther was “professionally dancing”, Ben had some run-ins with the law and Five, ironically enough, was working for the CIA.

“Well, you two are as annoying as always,” Ben told you and his brother, making Diego roll his eyes as he walked towards the gift table to set down your present.

“Please try to stay out of prison at least for the remainder of the year,” You joked with the man, making him roll his eyes as he hugged you loosely, “There’s only so much favors I could owe the DA.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Ben groaned, “I don’t even know why they let you work at the law firm since you still look like a prepubescent with no boobs. Even Five got a growth spurt.”

“I sized up to B recently, thank you very much,” You nudged his shoulder, before placing your hands on your chest in an offended manner.

“Okay, Gracie, not a conversation you’d wanna hear,” Five spoke up, putting his niece down, “Your aunt needs to learn some etiquette on how to act around children.”

“Funny coming from you,” You couldn’t help but wave him off.

You didn’t come in with Five at the party, but as fate had it, you did run into him as you were parking your car. He had just gone out to his brother’s dusty van to bring inside some more cookies for the guests. You kept in touch with him as well, but not as often as you would have liked. It’s not all that serious, but given the fact that you were a lawyer still climbing your way to the top and him being a top notch CIA agent, you didn’t exactly have the time to hang out.

At least, not as much as you’d have liked.

Five was watching you with a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and his hands in his pockets. He had the same look on his face as always when watching you. He had the same smile when he saw you in combat for the first time during your first mission for the Commission together, the same look in his eyes when you appeared for the first time in 2019 alongside him in your teen bodies. The same posture he had when he met you again in 1963 after months of not seeing each other.

He wore the same love on his face while looking at you when you and the siblings split up after the events at Oblivion.

And never once did you notice that.

Not once in these past six years you let your feelings surface.

“You know Grace is my niece too, right?” He couldn’t drop the small smile even if he wanted to.

“Since when are you such a family man?” You raised a brow, trying to keep a confident composure.

“Oh, something changed in me between the first and third time I traded the world for my siblings,” He lightly shrugged his shoulders, making you roll your eyes at the sarcastic remark.

You two never changed.

“Please, I was there for the twins birth,” You waved him off.

You rarely see Five, and even when you do you always try to act normal, as you do around the rest of the Hargreeves. Everyone tried to get you two together at first, since the apocalypse was over and there was no reason for you to not get together, right?

You really wished it was that easy. In hindsight, maybe it was. But you couldn’t take any chances in losing Five forever if something were to go wrong. Maybe some would see it as something stupid, or as if you wasted so many years, but to you- mentally, you were almost seventy, while physically nineteen. You had so much time ahead of you now, all that mattered was to get a stable career first.

Five let a chuckle escape, shaking his head in disbelief, as he looked at the floor for a couple of seconds. When he looked back at you, you tried to keep your composure. You couldn’t help but feel pathetic that after all these years, your heart still skipped a beat whenever he’d look at you.

“You’re doing that thing again where you forget that some other people are still around, guys,” Luther raised his hand, grabbing your attention once again.

“I got bored of watching seventy year old virgins,” Ben shrugged his shoulders, “I’m gonna go get shitfaced.”

“Always a delight seeing you, Benjamin,” Five said, as Luther followed the ex-tentacle boy suit to make re he was not about to actually get drunk;

“This is a six year old’s birthday party!”

You giggled, watching the two brothers speed away while arguing amongst the kids in the crowd. When your eyes laid back on Five, who was intently watching you, you couldn’t help but feel a small blush creep its way in your cheeks.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Spit it out, Hargreeves.”

“I said it’s nothing!”

“Fuck you.”

“Why?”

You watched him dumbfounded for a couple of seconds because of the only answer he could come up with, before walking away, hoping he would follow you.

When he did try to keep up with you, you looked away to hide the proud smile. Even after all these years, things were still the same with him. He was still so eager to spend time with you, he was still smiling at you and entertaining your conversation.

“Aunt Y/N, Uncle Five, come play in the ball pit!” Gracie ushered you from afar, already tucked in the plastic colorful balls.

“You heard the birthday girl!” You smiled, grabbing his hand to drag Five after you.

Even after all these years he would instantly lock his fingers with yours.

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER ELEVEN ━━ Home, For Christmas

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 4.3K

☆ ━ warnings: subtle talks of dani’s bitchass homophobic dad what’s new

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: in honor of gameday 🫡sorry this took so long you guys!!!! hopefully the next one won’t lol ALSO! y’all i wrote julia in for a reason, she will end up being important :)

CHRISTMAS DAY at her grandparents’ house is always cozy and warm, filled with laughter and the smell of cinnamon and pine. Dani’s family fills the living room, sprawled across couches, perched on armchairs, and gathered around the fireplace. Her aunts and uncles are trading stories, her little cousins are running around in holiday pajamas, and there’s a pile of presents under the tree, each one wrapped in brightly colored paper.

Dani sits in the corner of the couch, balancing her youngest aunt Julia’s newborn, Grey, in her lap. She’s been fawning over him all day, enchanted by his tiny fingers and the little yawns he lets out every now and then. His downy dark hair sticks up at odd angles, and his soft little hands rest against her arm as she holds him, his eyes drifting closed with that peaceful look babies seem to have mastered.

Julia, who’s only twenty-five and just as warm and lovely as Dani remembers from her childhood, sits beside her, watching Dani with a smile. “You’ve got the magic touch, Dani,” she says, nudging her gently. “He hasn’t fallen asleep for anyone else yet today.”

Dani grins, glancing down at Grey as he lets out a tiny sigh. “Guess he knows I’m his favorite already,” she jokes, stroking the baby’s soft cheek.

Julia shifts a little, leaning back against the couch, and after a moment, she glances sideways at Dani. “How’s your dad been doing?” she asks quietly, her tone careful.

Dani rolls her eyes, her expression slipping into something neutral. “It’s… whatever,” she says, keeping her voice low. “We don’t really talk much.”

Julia nods, understanding written all over her face. “Yeah. Me neither.” There’s a heaviness to her voice, and Dani knows why. Julia is certainly not married to Grey’s father, him having left long before Grey was born. It’s something that Dani’s dad has shamed Julia for, his conservative views casting his half sister as some kind of disgrace. Dani’s heard the things he’s said about her—heard him scoff at Julia’s life choices like they were some kind of moral failure.

She looks at Julia, her heart aching for her. “I’m sorry,” Dani says quietly. “He’s like that with everything, not just you.”

Julia lets out a soft sigh, her gaze drifting to Grey, who’s now fully asleep, his little face relaxed and peaceful. “I know,” she murmurs. “But it still sucks. I just wish he could see… it’s not like I planned for things to turn out this way. But I love Grey. And I wouldn’t trade him for anything.” She smiles down at her son, her expression soft and full of love. “It’s just a difficult situation.”

Dani nods, her throat tight. “Yeah. I get it.” She glances down at Grey, feeling the familiar warmth in her chest. She doesn’t understand why her dad has to be so harsh, so unwilling to forgive. She’s been on that side of things when her own secret came to light, and when that same judgment had been turned on her, it was terrible.

Dani adjusts her grip on Grey, who shifts a little in his sleep, tiny fingers curling around the edge of her sweater.

After a moment, Julia speaks again, her voice soft. “So… are you and Paige still not talking?” she asks, her tone careful, but curious. “Last I heard, you two weren’t friends anymore.”

Dani’s stomach tightens a little, her gaze shifting to the floor. Julia’s met Paige plenty of times—Paige was practically family, as far as her grandparents and aunts were concerned. Dani can still remember how much her mom adored Paige, how her mom used to say that Paige was the best thing to happen to her, that Paige brought out this light in her daughter that she hadn’t seen in anyone else. It’s something that, in her quiet moments, Dani clings to—thinking that maybe her mom really would have understood her situation.

“Paige was always so sweet,” Julia continues, almost wistfully. “And I remember how much your mom loved her, Dani. She always said Paige was the best friend you could ever have.”

Dani sighs, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on her. Her chest tightens with the urge to spill everything—to tell Julia about how it was so much more than just friendship, how Paige is basically her entire world, how they love each other in a much different way than most know. Dani knows Julia isn’t homophobic, and she can’t imagine Julia judging her, especially after everything Julia herself has been through with her dad and such.

But the words catch in her throat. Her fear is too strong, a familiar, icy weight. She imagines what would happen if anything she said got back to her dad, even by accident. She remembers the camp, the isolation, the way it felt like she was being slowly erased. The thought of going back there makes her stomach twist with dread.

She takes a slow breath, then finally says, “No, we’re still not friends.” Her voice is flat, and she hates how empty it sounds. “And we’re… we’re not ever going to be friends again.”

Julia frowns, reaching over to place a comforting hand on Dani’s arm. “I’m sorry, Dani. That must be so hard. Losing a friend like that… I can only imagine.”

Dani just nods, swallowing back the ache in her throat. “Yeah,” she murmurs, her gaze fixed on Grey, who’s still blissfully asleep. “It is.”

Julia gives her a soft smile, a silent offer of comfort, but Dani barely notices, her mind drifting to thoughts of Paige. She feels like she’s buried that love as deeply as she can—hidden it away in a place where her dad and the church can’t touch it.

And she’s going to stay that way. Because that is what is going to keep it safe.

DANI SINKS into her blankets, watching Christmas Vacation play on her laptop, the warmth of the bed comforting against the bite of winter outside. She’d asked her dad to watch the movie with her, hoping for at least a little shared Christmas cheer, but he’d just brushed her off with a brief mutter of how tired he was. So here she is, alone, her room dimly lit, a quiet feeling of loneliness settling in.

The Griswold family is just finishing fitting their huge Christmas tree in their living room when Dani’s phone lights up beside her. She glances down and finds Paige’s name on her screen. Her heart does a little flip as she picks it up, biting back a smile.

Paige ❤️‍🔥

You home yet?

Dani ❤️‍🔥

yeah i got home like an hour ago

Paige ❤️‍🔥

you doing anything?

Dani pauses, glancing at her screen.

Dani ❤️‍🔥

watching christmas vacation in my bed

She sends the message and internally cringes a little as she realizes how lonely it sounds.

Paige ❤️‍🔥

By yourself?

Come over and watch it with me and my fam

Dani laughs softly, rolling her eyes. Of course Paige wouldn’t let her stay alone, not tonight. Paige always has that unwavering energy, that impulsive streak that Dani has never been able to resist.

Dani ❤️‍🔥

paige my dad’s home

Paige ❤️‍🔥

Sneak out!!!

I’ll come get you by your window

Dani stares at the screen, a little stunned, a little thrilled. Her fingers hover over the screen, her thumb hesitating over the keyboard.

Dani ❤️‍🔥

you’re insane

Paige ❤️‍🔥

And yet ur not saying no 😁😁

A grin tugs at Dani’s lips, and she feels her pulse quicken. She glances at her door, hoping and praying for her sake that her dad was true on his word and that he’s asleep, then quietly swings her legs off the bed. Closing her laptop, she grabs her thickest hoodie from her chair, pulling it over her head. She finds her Uggs under the bed, slipping them on and making her way to the window, heart pounding in anticipation. Her fingers fumble a bit as she undoes the lock, the cold air hitting her face the moment she slides it open.

Peering outside, she feels her heart skip as she spots Paige standing below. Paige is bundled up in her coat, hands deep in her pockets, and despite the shivering, she’s grinning up at Dani like this is the most natural thing in the world. Snow has started to fall again, gentle flakes catching in Paige’s hair and dusting her shoulders. She looks really pretty.

“Hey!” Paige calls up softly, her voice a mix of excitement and impatience. “You comin’ down, or what?”

Dani can’t help the smile that spreads across her face. She leans out a little, gripping the window frame for balance. “This is so stupid, you know that?” she whispers, trying not to laugh too loud.

Paige just shrugs, her grin undeterred. “Live a little!”

Dani laughs softly, the sound swallowed by the stillness of the night. She glances down, assessing the climb, feeling a pang of nervousness when she sees just how far the ground looks. Her window isn’t exactly low, and she can’t be sure the snow is soft. She swallows, feeling her pulse quicken as she considers her next move.

“Paige,” she whispers, trying to keep her voice down but still sounding panicked, “I’m going to fall!”

“If you do, I’ll catch you!” Paige whispers back, her voice carrying a confidence that only makes Dani’s heart beat faster. “Besides, there’s like a foot of fresh snow down here. You’ll be fine.”

Paige waves, motioning for her to climb down. Dani takes a deep breath, telling herself she’s done more dangerous things in her life than sneaking out of her own house. She slowly climbs through the window, her fingers gripping the cold edges of the siding as she carefully makes her way down. She’s almost to the bottom, just a couple of feet away from the ground, when her foot slips on the last ledge.

She lets out a small yelp, her fingers losing their grip, and she starts to tumble. There’s a split second of weightlessness, her heart in her throat, and then Paige’s arms are around her, just enough to slow her fall before they both collapse into the snow in a heap. The impact sends a puff of snow up around them, freezing and soft at the same time. Dani’s breath catches as she feels Paige’s arms around her, the warmth of her body cutting through the biting cold.

For a moment, they just lie there in the snow, laughing softly, breathless and tangled together. Their faces are close, so close that Dani can feel Paige’s breath against her cheek, warm and sweet, mingling with the cold night air. Paige’s cheeks are flushed pink, her nose red from the cold, and there’s a light in her eyes that makes Dani’s heart skip a beat.

Paige reaches up, brushing a few stray snowflakes from Dani’s face, her fingers lingering on her cheek. “You good?” she asks softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Dani nods, her own cheeks flushed. She’s suddenly hyper-aware of every point of contact between them—their knees, their hands, the faint tremor in Paige’s touch as her fingers trace along Dani’s cheek. She shivers, but this time, it has nothing to do with the cold.

Paige nods back, looking thoughtful, her hand dropping to swipe a bit of snow off Dani’s shoulder. She glances around, making sure no one’s watching, before leaning in. Her eyes search Dani’s face for a moment, just a flicker of hesitation, before she closes the distance, her lips brushing softly against Dani’s.

The kiss is barely more than a whisper, a featherlight touch that’s over almost as soon as it begins. But it leaves Dani breathless, her heart racing in her chest as she looks up at Paige. There’s a warmth in Paige’s eyes that makes Dani’s stomach flutter, a tenderness that feels like the best Christmas gift she’s ever received.

Paige pulls back, her eyes sparkling with mischief, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “Come on,” she whispers, her voice warm, filled with a quiet joy that Dani feels mirrored in her own chest. Paige helps her to her feet, brushing snow off their coats as they stand together, grinning like conspirators in the snowy silence.

They link arms, Paige’s hand slipping into Dani’s pocket to hold her hand, the feeling of Paige’s fingers warming her whole body up. Together, they start making their way toward Paige’s house, the snow crunching beneath their feet, their laughter echoing softly in the stillness of the night.

They go through the back door of Paige’s house, each of them letting out a relieved sigh as the warmth surrounds them, chasing away the icy chill of the Minnesota night. Dani takes a moment to close her eyes, basking in the feeling of warmth creeping back into her fingers and toes, the familiar smell of cookies, cinnamon, and evergreen filling the air.

There in the kitchen, Drew is perched on a stool by the island, his legs swinging idly as he chews on a Christmas cookie dusted with red and green sprinkles. Bob, Paige’s dad, stands near the stove, pulling sprinkles out of a cabinet. A tray of freshly baked cookies cools on the counter, the sweet scent drifting through the room. Bob’s face lights up when he sees Dani and Paige sneaking in, a broad grin stretching across his face.

“Dani! Merry Christmas!” he exclaims, waving her over as if she were his own daughter. “I saved a couple cookies for you, but they almost fell victim to that creature—” he points to Drew, who giggles at the wording, frosting dusting the corners of his mouth “—over there.”

Dani laughs, an easy grin drifting to her face as she says, “I can see that. Thanks for letting me come over; I didn’t mean to intrude on family Christmas.”

Paige rolls her eyes, her hand on Dani’s hip as she pushes her toward the island. “Shut up, Dan, you’re never intruding.”

“She’s right,” Bob says cheerily, grabbing a couple plain cookies from the tray and placing them in front of the two empty stools next to Drew. “You’re family, Dani.”

Dani feels her face flush at his words, and her chest warms, too. It’s nice to know that they’re glad she’s here, that they don’t feel as though she’s intruding, that maybe she really belongs in this corner of her world. She’d really, really like to.

Dani sits on the bar stool next to Drew, and Paige sits on the other one so the brunette girl is in between the two Bueckers siblings. However, it seems as though the small distance between Dani and Paige is too much, because Dani feels Paige’s hand graze her thigh as she grabs hold of the stool Dani’s sat on, pulling it so close to her own that the two of them are practically sharing a seat. Their shoulders press against each other, as do the sides of their legs, and it’s enough to send a warm jolt through Dani.

Dani sends a little look to Paige, her brows raised ever so slightly, smirk playing her lips.

“What?” Paige asks, though she’s got a look that mirrors the Callan girl’s. “You were too far.”

Dani just shakes her head at the blonde’s words, watching as she grabs the remote and flicks through the Christmas movies until she finds Christmas Vacation, having told Dani that she should watch it with them instead and holding onto her word.

Dani feels a smile lifting her lips as she reaches for a cookie in the tray in front of her, placing it on her plate. She grabs a piping bag, too, squeezing a tiny bit of green icing onto her finger just to get a taste.

“Oh, you’re gettin’ into the icing already?” Paige teases, leaning in with an arched brow. She grabs her own piping bag and, without warning, dabs a bit of red frosting on the tip of Dani’s nose, laughing as Dani’s eyes widen.

Dani gasps, swatting at her with a laugh. “Paige!” she exclaims, grabbing her green icing before leaning over and spreading some onto Paige’s cheek in retaliation.

Paige’s mouth open in mock outrage, but before she can protest herself, Drew interrupts with a grin, reaching for another piping bag, and asking, “Are we having an icing fight?”

The seven-year-old’s words seem to catch Bob’s attention, who turns from where he was watching the movie to see what’s happening behind him. Dani watches his eyes trail over the green on her nose and the red on his daughter’s cheek and he gives them a playfully stern look before telling Drew, “No, buddy, no icing fight. You’ll get on Santa’s Naughty List next year if you do.”

Drew laughs a little, pointing at the two girls sitting next to him and saying, “Ooh, Naughty List.”

Paige just playfully sticks her tongue out at her little brother before grabbing a napkin. She dramatically uses it to wipe the red icing off of her cheek, before balling it up and tossing it back onto the island. Dani rolls her eyes at the blonde’s dramatics, reaching to grab her own napkin to clean up her nose. But Paige swats at the hand Dani was reaching. Dani sends Paige a look, watching as the girl beside her cautiously glances at her dad and Drew—whose attention’s have both been captured by the movie—before leaning in and grinning as she kisses the tip of Dani’s nose and then sticks her tongue out to lick the icing away. She pulls back and Dani’s sure her face is red—especially due to the proximity of Paige’s family—but Paige is just smiling mischievously, using her tongue to swipe away any remaining frosting on her lips.

Dani finally takes the liberty to actually decorate her cookie, deciding for the traditional Christmas tree route. She’s spreading the green icing along the sugar cookie carefully, her eyes occasionally flicking between Christmas Vacation and Paige decorating her own cookie. It’s more endearing to watch the latter—she’s decorating with exaggerated precision (though if Dani’s honest, she can’t tell what the glob of frosting is meant to look like… it might be an ornament), her tongue sticking out in concentration, her hair falling into her face ever so slightly. Dani flicks her eyes away, back to her own handiwork.

At one point, Paige leans over to whisper to Dani, “Look at Drew’s cookie… the sprinkles…”

Dani does as the blonde says, her gaze finding Drew, to the left of her. He’s humming quietly to himself, concentrating on drowning his cookie in red and green sprinkles, his fingers sticky and his cheeks dusted with sugar. Dani stifles a giggle as she leans in even closer to see the cookie piled high with so many sprinkles that it’s almost unrecognizable. She catches Paige’s eye, and they both burst into quiet laughter, trying not to let Drew hear.

“Hey, it’s nice!” Drew defends, noticing their stifled laughter.

From where he’s standing, Bob chuckles, watching the exchange with a fond smile. “You’re doing great, Drew,” he says, reaching over to ruffle his son’s hair, eyes flicking across the three cookies the kids before him are making. “Though, I think you and Paige both have some competition in Dani here.”

Dani watches as Paige looks at her dad in betrayal, though it’s true—her cookie is terrible. Dani just grins, nodding, nudging Paige’s knee under the counter. “Years of practice,” the brunette says in a mock-serious tone before carefully adding a few more sprinkles to her cookie.

Paige rolls her eyes, mumbling, “Whatever. Mine tastes better.”

CHRISTMAS VACATION ended not too long ago, and Drew and Bob went upstairs to bed, leaving Dani and Paige alone. The warm glow of the tree casts a soft light over the living room, and Home Alone now plays quietly on the screen, adding to the late-night comfort. Dani’s curled up against Paige, the two of them snuggled under a thick fleece blanket, Paige’s arm wrapped securely around her. Dani lets herself drift, lulled by the movie, the warmth, the way Paige’s fingers trace soft circles over her shoulder.

But then Paige shifts slightly beneath her, murmuring, “So… I know we promised not to get each other anything…”

Dani’s eyes immediately flick from the TV to Paige, her brow furrowing as she pulls back slightly, a hint of accusation in her gaze. “Tell me you didn’t get me something.”

Paige, looking a little sheepish, averts her eyes and rubs the back of her neck, mumbling, “Well…”

“Paige!” Dani sits up fully now, her voice holding a mixture of surprise and mild reproach. “We promised not to!”

“I know, I know!” Paige protests, her face flushed as she tries to defend herself. “And I wasn’t going to, I swear! But then I was at the mall literally yesterday, just doing some last-minute shopping for my family, and—” She pauses, looking a bit embarrassed but determined to explain. “I saw this thing that really reminded me of you…”

Dani sighs, her shoulders dropping a little as she shakes her head. “Paige…”

“I know,” Paige says quickly, hands lifted in a half-hearted attempt at appeasement. “But it was on sale because of the holidays! I hardly spent any money on it.”

Dani narrows her eyes, trying not to let the affection she feels soften her mock glare. “Still. I feel bad. If I’d known you’d gotten me something, I would’ve gotten you something.”

“Don’t feel bad,” Paige says, shaking her head earnestly. “I was the one who went against our promise, not you.”

They fall silent for a moment, the only sound in the room coming from the movie on the TV. Dani’s gaze flickers to Paige, whose face is shadowed in the dim light. There’s something vulnerable in the way Paige looks at her, something almost tentative, and it makes Dani’s heart ache in a way she can’t quite name.

Finally, Paige speaks up again, her voice soft. “Can I go get it?”

Dani nods, and Paige disentangles herself from their cozy nest of blankets, slipping upstairs while Dani stays on the couch, her mind racing a little. She knows Paige put thought into this, that whatever it is, it’s going to mean something.

Moments later, Paige is bounding down the stairs again, a tiny jewelry box held carefully in her hand. She pauses by the couch, her gaze flickering between the box and Dani, and Dani watches her, heart thudding with a mix of anticipation and warmth.

“Here,” Paige says softly, holding out the box as she sits back down beside Dani, even closer than before, their entire sides pressed up against each other.

Dani takes the box, feeling the slight weight of it in her hands, and slowly lifts the lid. Inside is a delicate silver necklace, the pendant small and simple—almost nondescript, but close up she can see the engraving on it, the tiny, intricate letters that spell out a single word: home.

Dani’s breath catches as she stares down at the pendant, her fingers trembling slightly as she lifts it. She can feel her throat tighten, emotion welling up inside her as the weight of the word hits her fully. It’s more than a necklace; it’s a message, a reminder of everything Paige has been to her, a promise that wherever Paige is, she’ll always have a place to belong.

She glances up at Paige, her eyes stinging, her voice barely above a whisper. “You… you really thought of me when you saw this?”

Paige nods, her gaze soft and steady, her fingers reaching out to brush lightly against Dani’s. “Yeah,” she says, her voice equally soft, almost like she’s afraid of breaking the moment. “I know things have been… hard, with your dad and everything. I just… I wanted you to have something that reminds you that you’ll always have a home with me. No matter what.”

Dani feels the tears slip down her cheeks, and she doesn’t bother to wipe them away. She just lets the words sink in, lets herself feel the weight of Paige’s thoughtfulness, her kindness, the unwavering support Paige always seems to offer, even when Dani feels like she doesn’t deserve it.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

Paige moves closer, pulling Dani into a hug, her arms wrapping securely around her. She rests her chin on top of Dani’s head, her fingers gently stroking her back, and Dani melts into her, closing her eyes and breathing in Paige’s familiar scent.

“I love you,” Paige murmurs into her hair, her voice soft and steady, filled with a warmth that wraps around Dani like a blanket.

Dani’s own arms tighten around Paige, and she whispers back, “I love you, too.”

They stay like that for a moment, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world fading away. Then, slowly, Paige pulls back, her gaze meeting Dani’s, and there’s a question in her eyes, one Dani answers by leaning in, pressing her lips softly to Paige’s.

The kiss is gentle, almost tentative at first, a quiet meeting of emotions unspoken. But as the seconds stretch, Dani lets herself get lost in it, her hand slipping up to rest against Paige’s cheek, her fingers brushing along her jaw. Paige’s hand finds the small of Dani’s back, pulling her in closer, and Dani feels her heart pounding, the warmth of Paige’s touch grounding her, steadying her.

When they finally pull back, their faces are close, their breaths mingling, and Dani can’t help but smile, the kind of smile that’s soft and true, filled with a happiness she rarely allows herself to feel.

Paige grins back, her fingers brushing over Dani’s cheek as she murmurs, “Merry Christmas, Dani.”

Dani’s voice is quiet, but full of warmth. “Merry Christmas, Paige.”

[chronically-ghosted]

i crawl home to her

rating: 18+ explicit

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

word count: 8.2K

summary: you bring dieter home to meet your family over the holidays.

warnings/tags: discussions of food, mentions of weight gain, brief biphobia, bad family dynamics, hiding parts of yourself to make yourself more palatable, dom!Dieter when his type-A girlfriend needs him to, smut in places it shouldn’t be, a family can be two people, bad jokes, mentions of marriage and kids, one light booty smack, peep the super obvious bob's burgers reference, minimal edited, you can pry the image of dieter in ugg's from my cold dead hands

a/n: i've caved and finally added to the evergrowing pile of "Pedro boy fucks you in your childhood home". @sp00kymulderr i told you i'd get it out today -- it might be tomorrow for you, but it's not yet midnight! i present to you part 2 of merry thanksgiving nonsense2023!

🤍Masterlist

You nearly miss the exit off the gray-slushy highway because you’re trying to remember Aunt Gayle’s food allergies. 

And Uncle Rick’s preferred way of taking his coffee in the morning.

And the right detergent to use when washing your niece’s clothes, or else your sister will come after you with a hatchet. 

“Baby, you’re gnawing your fingernails bloody.” 

You blink, surprised to find your hand anywhere near your mouth, the other white-knuckling the steering wheel, and to your enormous embarrassment, he was right – you’d pulled up several hangnails, leaving tiny pink gouges, right under your immaculate holiday nails you got for the express purpose of looking presentable in all the inevitable Insta photos your sister demands every year. 

“Fuck,” you mutter and curl your fingers into your fist as if to hide temptation. From the passenger’s seat, Dieter frowns.

“Twizzler to make it better?” He spins the red, bendy candy enticingly. Your mind suddenly flashes back to the time you both got way too high on his new bong and he made the exact same motions with his dick. You had never laughed so hard in your life. 

The red candy whipping around in a circle, you groan into the steering wheel. 

“I’m turning around. This was a terrible idea.”

“What are you so nervous about?” Dieter half-way laughs. He pulls his Ugg-stuffed feet off the dashboard and sits up. Crumbs from the Starbucks Christmas sugar cookie spill off his “Kris Kingle My Jingle” sweater and onto the seat, but it’s those fucking earnest, curious eyes that always seem to rock your world. You occasionally don’t like to be touched when you’re stressed, so out of the corner of your eye, you see his hand waver before falling back in his lap. “It’s just dinner.” 

“Yeah, but it’s holiday dinner with my family. They’re all so judgy and mean and every time I come home for more than twenty-four hours, I’m reminded exactly why I fucked off to California.”

“Maybe they’re jealous you’re a hot shot director,” Dieter suggests. “Or that you have a ruggedly handsome movie star boyfriend.” Eyebrow raised, he twirls the Twizzler again and manages to bite it out of the air. You half-way expected it to smack him in the face. “They know I’m coming, right?”

You bite your lip, the last phone call with your mother still achingly heavy in your chest.

“You know what she asked when I told her I was bringing home the one and only Dieter Bravo as my boyfriend to meet my family?” You don’t need to look at him to see the furrow in his brow, the slight curve in his shoulders. You prop your elbow up against the window, rubbing your forehead with your fingers. “She asked if it was a career move. If I was dating you to get ahead in the industry . . . like I’m trying to sleep my way to the top.”

There’s a fraught silence. You listen to the wheels churn dirty black snow so you don’t have to look at him. 

“Then why in the world would you start with my dumb ass?”

Despite yourself and despite what’s coming, you smile. But you fight it, wrapping your lip up between your teeth. So he continues:

“If you really want to make it big, you gotta date someone at least forty years older than you. So, what? We’re talking seventy. But, wow, think of the money. Bet he has his dick dripped in gold just to keep it hard–,”

“Dieter!” You swat at him, smile too big to contain, and he grins, grabbing you by the wrist. “That’s terrible!”

“But I made you laugh, didn’t I?”

You smirk. “Barely. More like ha ha than a big chuckle.” 

He nips your palm, the rough hair on his chin scraping the soft skin. 

By some minor miracle and a forcible act of God, your mother is allowing you two to share a bedroom. Not out of respect for your relationship, of course, but there is simply not enough room to spare. You watch those perfect lips imprint themselves in the cup of your hand and you’ve never been more thrilled to have to share a double bed. God, you cannot be this wet before you have to look your mother in the eye. You retract your hand with a breathy exhale. 

“We don’t have to stay long,” Dieter says, a weight to his gaze that proves he hasn’t completely blown off your concern. He twists his body in the seat and crosses his arms, his shoulder pressed into the seat. He watches you with his head against the headrest. “I hate seeing you like this.” 

“I’m already on thin ice because we’re just staying two days.” You shake your head. “My sister and her family have already been there since Monday and plan to stay the rest of the week.” You inhale, hold, and exhale until you can feel your shoulders drop. “It’s just . . . I’ve worked so hard to make something of my life, to be someone I can be proud of, and it just doesn’t matter to them. They want me to marry a banker or something, and quit my job to do cutesy family blogging on Instagram. They’ve never, ever liked the real me.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see something come over Dieter’s face. Not annoyance, or irritation, but as if someone kick started his brain. But it passes and he brushes the back of your hand resting over the gearshift with his fingers. 

“I like the real you,” he says quietly. “In fact, I really, really, really like the real you. I gotta keep you around. Who else is gonna remember the name of the best Chinese food place when I’m high?” 

Dieter is sweet, knows the wonders his smile can accomplish, with a twinkle in his eyes. A bit crude, a little distractible, but ultimately, well-meaning. However, he seemed physically incapable of maintaining sincerity. Which in the beginning, was also cute, but now, in a moment of crisis, it was boyish in a way that made you worried. A little scared. Like too much pressure and he’d break.

Is Dieter Bravo someone you could rely on? 

History says no. 

So, maybe you’d just carry everything. 

You smile at him and return your hand to the steering wheel.

“I’m not going anywhere.” 

The car squeals as it stops in the driveway, wheels crunching the cold ice. You look up at your childhood home with the same unease and trepidation that’s been there since childhood.

“Go let ‘em know we’re here,” Dieter says as he unbuckles his belt. There’s still crumbs in the knit of his sweater. At least his sweatpants are clean. But there’s nothing you can do about those Uggs right now– 

His hand squeezes yours, centering the universe that’s spinning like the inside of a martini shaker. You can feel the weight of his gaze press into your chest – heavy, warm, forgiving. He smiles, then slides into a smirk.

“Chillax, bro. Your vibes are not gnarly.”

You huff, trying to offer a smile that’s not a grimace. This was such a bad idea. Maybe it’s not too late to go pay for one of those mail-order boyfriends and keep Dieter in his nice California, hippie plastic wrap. 

You hear your name being called from the porch and that smile fully plummets into a grimace. Gathering from that reserve of confidence that makes you look at male writers, directors, and (yes) actors and tell them they’re idiots and get the fuck off your set, you open the door and head around the corner to the front of the house. 

Yeah, in the face of your mother, that reserve is basically a trickle.

She’s waiting for you on the porch, red dish towel in hand. 

“I thought that might be you, darling! I’d recognize that squeak from that rust bucket anywhere.” She smiles, arms wide, as you bend down to give her a hug. You've had to bend down to hug your mother for years now and you still feel about two feet tall. “How are you? You’ve been good? You look pale, but you’ve definitely been eating, haven’t you?”

She pinches your cheek as if to show you all the extra fat you have on your face. 

“Where’s Dad?” You try not to look like you’re tearing your face out of her grip and glance into the surprisingly quiet house over her shoulder. “Aren’t Emma and Dan supposed to be here?”

“Your father is out finishing his latest woodworking piece. He’s been at it for days, no matter how much I beg him to help with the food or the house. It’s all on me again to save the holidays.” 

As it is every year.

“Your sister and her family went out to get more sweet potatoes. They eat sweet potatoes in California, don’t they?”

Here it comes.

“Yes, Mom, they eat sweet potatoes.”

“Oh good, I thought it’d be considered a carb.” She frowns, hands on her hips as if you’re about to get a proper scolding. “Now you told me you’re going to be bringing your fancy actor boyfriend. Damian Bravado, right? I cooked for exactly seven people, darling, a single empty chair will throw the whole thing off!”

“Yes, Mom, my boyfriend, Dieter Bravo, is here. He’s just in the–,”

Someone, distinctly not your boyfriend, or at least not the boyfriend you left in the car, waltzes up the front steps.

Rings gone.

Earring gone.

Gloves that would make Ryan Gosling seethe with envy covering the tattoo on his hand.

His hair slicked back and curling deliciously around his ears, his dark jeans cover the laces of maroon Timberland boots. His black turtleneck clings to his wide chest, the leather jacket broken in enough to be soft, but not so used there’s tears in the seams. And, to top it all off, his cream-colored scarf curled around his throat looks like it came out of a Hallmark movie.

Maybe you are in a Hallmark movie. Maybe on the way up the porch, you slipped and banged your head and all of this is a bizarre, weirdly-erotic dream. Maybe someone actually did call in a mail-order boyfriend who looks exactly like Dieter and the real one is hog-tied in the trunk of your car. Maybe – 

You’d heard of quick costume changes, but this is ridiculous.

“Debbie!” He calls out, like they’ve been best friends for twenty years. He flourishes a wrapped bouquet of flowers, bright red against the white snow, and hands them to her after bouncing up the steps. His cheeks are tinged pink, as if he’d run the block, but without a drip of sweat on him, he’s simply glowing with what could be presumed as the holiday spirit. 

To your never-ending and horrific surprise, your mother squeals as she takes the flowers. 

“Poinsettias! My –,”

“Favorite, I know.” You stumble out of the way when he leans down and kisses her on her cheek. “And they’re fake, so you can reuse them next year. But you’d never know it at $300 a pop.”

Okay, yes, this is a clone of your boyfriend, a walking holiday Ken doll – Dieter never, ever brags about money. 

“I’m not a banker or anything, but I like to spoil my girls.” 

The bastard winks at you. 

Your mother has turned to gooey, drippy putty in his hands. She’s redder than the hand towel and the poinsettias combined. She flounces, flutters, eyes springing back and forth between the ruby-red flowers in her hands and Dieter’s achingly handsome face – one that hasn’t dimmed that thousand gigawatt smile since he first arrived. 

“Oh, oh my goodness – well, this is just lovely – it’s so nice to finally meet you – I can’t believe she’s been hiding you from us all this time – please, please come in, you must be freezing!”

She backs into the house, still staring at the flowers, then as if she hadn’t been living here for the past fifteen years of her life, she bounces towards the dining room, then on a quick turn, heads for the kitchen, then turns again to the hallway closet. 

“Oh gracious – where did I put – it must be – come in and shut the door behind you – you know where your room is, darling, I’ll be back in just a second, I just have to – ah, these are spectacular –”

A door down the hallway finally swings shut and muffles your mother’s insane rambling. 

So dazed, you don’t see him move until he’s pressed you up against the glass etching of the door, his hand palming your hip and the other diving to cup the back of your neck. He tugs you down into his mouth before you have time to blink.

Jesus Christ, mint? His breath smells like mint??

God, he even fucking kisses like a Hallmark Prince. His mouth pulls you into him and your brain whites out – careless of the little whimper you make, careless of the fact that literally any one of your family members could walk in right now, careless that you’re teetering into him as if on string. Your breath flutters down his throat and he huffs through his nose. The tips of his fingers are chilly enough that you shiver at his touch.

He edges the bottom of your lip with his tongue before pulling back and tightening his grip in your hair. 

And there’s that Dieter smirk you are all too intimately familiar with. 

“How’m I doing?” He mutters. His gaze flickers between your eyes, your nose, and your kissed-pink lips. “I’d say I got Mama Bear on my side.”

Maybe it’s a good thing he isn’t always like this. Between the fresh breath scent in his mouth, the fragrance of his much-too expensive cologne permeating your senses, and his thick thigh shoved under your groin, you are embarrassingly boneless in his arms. You pluck your fingers over the soft leather collar at the back of his neck, just as much to inspect the jacket, as much as to release more of that delicious smell. 

“Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?” You mutter, smirking, as you wind your fingers into his curls. “Spoil my girls, what the fuck was that?”

“Ah, ha, ha, ha,” he gloats as he lowers his head to your neck. You expect a warm kiss in the length of skin you’ve exposed to him, but instead his teeth lightly tease your throat above your pulse point and you feel your knees buckle as your face warms. “I can be very charming when I want to be.” He squeezes your ass as if to make a point. 

You hold back a moan, flattening it to a shudder in your chest. You can feel his grin in your neck and he shifts you, pulls you closer and compresses you deeper into the wooden door. You can feel your conscious thought melting through your fingers so you blink, lick your lips, try to wiggle out from under his teeth.

“This isn’t a Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner. This is Invasion of the Body Snatchers.” You gasp his name into the foyer of your childhood home when he licks you from the curve of your shoulder up under the soft place below your ear. Your hips jerk unconsciously, baser instincts seeking out the friction of his jeans, and you push against his biceps. “Dieter, she’ll be back any minute. She can’t – can’t see us like this.”

You’ve never heard him chuckle like the way he does, so darkly pleased with himself.

“Once I’m done schmoozing her, your father, your sister and her – what did you call him – cardboard husband, we’ll fuck in front of them and they won’t say a word.”

“Dieter!” You shove him just as your mother returns from the kitchen.

She frowns and you feel the scolding coming, the scent of Dieter so obviously entangled in you. You might as well be wearing a sign that reads, hi, yes, I’ve been recently groped why do you ask?

“Did you forget where your room is? Honestly, what would you do without me? Now, follow me and I’ll remind you.”

Schmooze he did. 

From the same magical bag of weirdly specific and perfect gifts, Dieter presents a bottle of Buffalo Trace bourbon and two very illegal, but very Cuban cigars. Your father forgets to scowl in the face of some of the most expensive bourbon in the world. 

For your sister, he somehow senses that material objects won’t go as far, so he endears himself to your niece first. Asking her questions about her doll, about her school, what she likes to play with her friends and how crazy it is that hopscotch is his favorite game too. 

In twenty minutes, he’s on his hands and knees, black sleeves pulled up over his immaculate forearms, and etching out a hopscotch board with pink chalk. He nods and interjects while your niece runs around him, demanding a dragon in the corner, or a crown in another, and suddenly your biological clock starts blaring like an air-raid siren. 

“He’s so good with kids,” your sister mutters to you from the door to the garage. A single glance tells you she’s under the same effect of watching a hot man play with a child. You’re so aroused and confused you can’t even eye her with jealousy. 

“Mhmm hmm.” 

“When are you going to have some of your own?” 

And you’re back inside before you can see the look on his face as he lifts his head.

It would be insulting to call it eerie. 

It’s not like he’s physically incapable of smelling clean, or dressing nice, or even combing his hair. You’ve seen him do it time and time again for galas and interviews. Hell, that time he took you on a date to get sushi in the tallest building in Toronto, he didn’t look that much different from how he does right now . . . and yet . . .

You feel your face scrunch in suspicion when he remembers your aunt’s food allergies, how your Uncle Rick likes his after-dinner coffee. 

Dieter might forget to put on pants, but he’s never forgotten the important dates of your relationship. He remembers what you were wearing the first night you kissed, but can’t remember to take out the pizza before it burns in the oven. 

This, this Dieter, feels wrong. 

You watch him laugh with your father and uncle by the fireplace with brandy in his hands as you work with your mother and sister to unwrap a dozen saran-wrapped pies. He comes by later and takes the stack of plates from your mother’s hands and assures her he’ll do the dishes, as thanks for such a wonderful meal.

This Dieter Bravo needs a smoking jacket and uses words like “wonderful meal”. 

Initial surprise at his near magical transformation from the car this morning long gone, you sit with this uncomfortable feeling, as everyone around you eats pie and laughs and looks all the part of a fucking Hallmark card for “joyful festivities”, long enough to finally understand it for what it is:

Anger. 

Shame. Guilt. 

Hot embarrassment. 

You look at the man who’s invaded your boyfriend’s body as he charms the pants off your mother and father, and ugly, heavy embarrassment boils over in your chest. Washing the knife in your throat down with your fourth glass of wine all night, you excuse yourself with the last bit of breath in your lungs before ducking upstairs, then stumbling to your childhood bathroom you once shared, and share again, with your sister. 

You lock the door forcefully in lieu of slamming it shut and sit down on the tile, your head against your knees. Rationally, there’s a part of you that knows this shouldn’t affect you like it is. Women would kill for a boyfriend like this – your sister very nearly jumped him in the garage. 

But that’s just the thing – this isn’t your boyfriend. This isn’t the man you spend your days and nights with and this isn’t the man you fell in love with. This isn’t the Dieter you want to show the world. 

A soft knock comes from the other side of the door and it breaks you out of your self-deprecating spiral. 

“Just a second,” you call out as you stand. You flush the empty toilet (this night is filled with ruses after all) and twitch the faucet on for two seconds. But when you open the door, you’re immediately cowed back in. 

“Dieter, what are you–,”

“Are you okay?” Beneath the veneer of the Million Dollar Man, his eyes are soft, coaxing the anxiety out of you. “You looked pale when you left.” He tucks an escaped strand of hair over your ear, watching how his fingers brush up against your skin. He gently tangles his fingers in your hair as he pulls back. He smirks. “Mom’s dressing wasn’t that bad.” 

White-hot shame blooms again and you turn your head from him, tugging your hair out of his reach. You catch his hurt expression out of the corner of your eye. 

“I’m fine. Just needed some air.” 

“You’re not a good liar. I’ve told you that.” His voice is clipped. Not irritated, but not interested in lengthy bouts of misdirection either.

“Well, I don’t feel like bearing my problems to Mr. Perfect.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He crosses his arms, shoulders swelling in the space of the tiny bathroom, and he leans on the sink. 

“It means you’re a better liar than me so I guess you’ll have to do it for the both of us.” 

You know it’s ridiculous to try and move around him – but maybe this Dieter wouldn’t care if you left angry. Even sober, he could manhandle you without a second thought, but between the heat of the drink in your throat and he’s blurred at the edges, you know you’re fighting a losing battle.

“Dieter, please, just –,”

He stands his ground, effectively blocking the door, and you huff, pushing up against his waist with your hands, your teeth bared behind your lips. He steps back, you think you’ve won a mile, but then his hands grasp so firmly around your elbows, your entire consciousness is pulled into where his fingers curl against your skin.

He gently, but seriously, shakes you slightly.

“Stop fighting me. You tell me what I did wrong and we’ll talk about this.”

The past two weeks of dread, and fear, and worry, and shame – shame that this is your family, this is how you go to pieces around them, this is all you can offer him – slam into your chest and your breathing hitches. The fingers at his chest dig into his shirt. The fourth glass of wine makes your eyes hot and tight.

“This isn’t you.” 

You grimace in the bright light of the bathroom and your confession. But beyond your closed eyes, his demeanor hasn’t changed. 

“What’s not me?”

A tear slips out the moment you open your mouth, your throat closing and gagging on your words. You swallow and try again, eyes peeling open to stare at the curve of his shoulder. 

“You’re Dieter Bravo. You dry-clean your favorite pajamas to preserve the material. You do astrology charts of people who piss you off to find out how to best get back at them. You paint until four in the morning and sleep in our bed until I wake you up–,”

Your heart thrusts its way into your airways and cuts off your ability to speak. You know you’re not making a lot of sense, but all you can think of right now is how much you want to peel this fucking black, Steve Jobs-esque, goddamn ugly-ass turtleneck apart with your bare hands. Like freeing a mermaid from a net. He squeezes your waist, his broad palm settled in the curve of your lower back. 

“Darling, I don’t see why this has you so sad –,”

“They won’t fall in love with you like I did.” You lift your watery gaze to him, unable to stop the spilling of tears. You always got teary when you drank a bit too much, but fuck, if you didn’t love him so much, you wouldn’t be so mad . . . at yourself. “I hate that you feel like you have to do this to be accepted by my family. I hate that they can’t see what makes you so special to me. I hate . . . I hate that they don’t see the real you.” 

And out of nowhere, he smiles. 

Never one to shy away from bodily fluids, Dieter kisses your tear-soaked cheeks, his hands rising up your back, taking their time to press into the curve of your hips, the bones of your ribs, the high arch of your spine, before settling on your cheeks. He kisses your wet mouth, thumbs against the corners of your lips like a soft leather bridle. He holds you, just like that, until your heart eases, stops racing in your chest, and you lean more into the kiss, chasing instead of hiding. You wrap your fingers around his wrists as he pulls away.

“With all due respect, this is just another gig for me.” His gentle smile hides no bitterness, no anger. No disgust. “I know what people like this are like, how they think, what they want. What they value.” He smears away the cold tears from your skin with his thumbs. “It’s fun, in a way, to infiltrate their little circles. It’s all fake, it’s all bullshit, and fortunately I’m fantastic at bullshit.”

You let out a watery laugh and he reaches behind you for some toilet paper to dry your tears. He blots your eyes for you before you can even take the tissue. 

“You’re not forcing me to do anything, baby,” he murmurs. “My family was exactly the same way, so I know how the game is played.”

“Yeah, and you don’t talk to them anymore. I just wish I had your bravery to cut them out of my life like you did.” 

Dieter’s mouth twitches. “Well, that had more to do with the fact that I like to occasionally make out with boys, than dysfunctional family dynamics.”

You squeeze his forearm as he continues to clean your face, trying to catch his eyes but they’d gone hard where a moment ago they were soft. He thinks, using the silence to carefully fix your make up with his thick thumb under your eyelashes to lift off the smeared mascara. 

He didn’t talk much about his life before Hollywood, but when he did, you understood why he was so closed off about it.

“Let’s put it this way: they did the cutting off, not me. And even if we have to be completely different people, your family still talks to you. I’m not saying that to guilt you, or compare trauma scars, but . . . most times we can’t pick who we love, but sometimes we have to.” 

You nod, a sense of ease washing over you. His small, I don’t know if I should say this but I’m gonna smile widens across his mouth. 

“It’s okay if they don’t see the real me, because I know you do.” He finally pulls away the tissue, his mouth pulled up in sweet earnest. “What can I do to make you feel better?”

A physical string connected between your ribs and his could not have tugged you faster. Tripping into his wide, warm chest, you drop your head onto his collarbone as you wrap your arms around his torso tighter than his own rib cage.

“Just . . .”

His bulky arms pull you into his chest, the bristles of his beard scratching at your temple. It’s not until you sink away from your own thoughts, into the silence in the bathroom, that you realize your breathing is synced with his. 

That realization hits you particularly hard, that without trying, without meaning to, you become one with him – you turn and bury your face into the pulse of his neck. If you can get to his heartbeat, maybe that’ll calm you too. Dig through the crust of the earth and end up in China. You shift in his arms, and he does too. Dieter cups the back of your head, thumb rubbing the arch of your skull. His entire arm circles your back. 

“What do you need, hm, baby? What can I give you, huh?”

You know he doesn’t mean it like that, but the girth, the weight of his voice has your toes curling in your shoes. His rasp is so often used to light that first spark. 

“Dieter –,” the moment shifts and so do you. You squirm, itching for his face in your hands, his mouth over yours, but he holds you steady. Holds you firm. So firm, you can feel he’s half-hard in his jeans. 

Oh. 

Maybe he did mean it like that. 

You press your tongue against his pulse point, your fingers splayed across the back of his rib cage, and he shudders. You’re about to bite down, when his hands peel your fingers from his back and pinch your wrists in one single, meaty grip. Heart suddenly thundering in your chest, he steps back to allow for just enough room to turn you – barely any at all – and pushes you face down on the sink counter, your wrists clasped over your ass behind you.

Cold marble pressing up against your tits, your face turned towards the window and the towel bar where you used to hang your Barbie swimsuits when you were seven, you feel his other massive palm dip under your sweater and press flat against the ridges of your spine. He hums when you let out a small whine. Flexes his fingers when you wiggle your ass against him. You seek out the marble with your cheek, heat rising under your skin, arousal suddenly burning hot in your low belly. 

“This is what you need, hm, baby? Need me to touch you? To feel you?” He murmurs. Dieter always did like playing with his food. You nod helplessly, cheek sticky against the marble. He shifts his hips into the crack of your ass, with just enough pressure to have you bucking back against him, but not enough to find relief from the stirring between your legs. 

He strokes your hair away from your neck, fingers brushing over your collarbone, gaze languid and slow. Like he can see where he needs to pluck to unravel you. 

“Why is my baby so tense?” He muses quietly, patronizing. His hand maps your spine in a single palm, edging slowly up your back until, with two fingers, he pinches your bra open. You feel the snap of the release and you rub your nose against the edge of the counter, whimpering. “Don’t I take care of you?”

You gulp. “Y-y-yes, you treat– treat me so good. I want it.” 

He has you pressed too tightly against the counter to slip his hand down your front, the edge pinching your hips. So, instead, with your hands still pinned against your tailbone, he palms your ass and rubs a thick finger down between your legs and up over the seam of your jeans. The whine building in your throat breaks into an open moan when he presses your zipper teeth into your clit.  

“Want what? Tell me and I’ll give it to you.” 

“F-fingers – tongue – fuck – y-your cock. Anything inside me.” 

The surprised, breathless chuckle that reverberates down to the button of his jeans seared against your ass has you bending, stretching, just for a glimpse of his face in the mirror. 

His mouth open, tongue curling back and forth over his bottom lip, he’s hungry. Wants so much. Can’t satiate this need without something between his teeth. Grinning around a mouthful of incisors. Patience has never been Dieter’s strong suit. 

With a firm jerk around your wrists, your back arches up off the counter, shoulders pinched, hands caught low near his groin. You know he wants you to watch him touch you in the mirror – he’s stopped before when you close your eyes – but it’s hard to look at the woman reflected back at you, with her bleary eyes, mussed hair, heaving chest, and exposed belly button where his hand hovers between the waistband and a green sweater, and recognize yourself. 

  “No one can take you from me. Do you understand?” He dips his head, arched nose dragging up the curve of your neck, breathing hot through his teeth against the lines where your hair and your skin meet. You can’t help but arch up into his waiting mouth. “Not your family. Not mine. You’re so greedy for me – who else is gonna make you feel this good?” 

“N-no one, Dieter, no one can.”

His hand rising under your sweater, thumb first at your belly button, then up between the spread of your ribs, and finally, it catches under the wire of your bra and he tugs it down. The material rubs against your sensitive nipples – it almost stings, your body pulled taught like a bowstring – the straps falling low off your shoulders, but your sweater keeps it from falling off completely and he goes no further. You whine, eager for something other than the scratch of the bra – something warmer – and push your sensitive tits into his soft hands, but his hand drops, fingering the waistline of your jeans instead. He ignores what you want to show you what you need. 

This is a thing he did. He watched you wind yourself up with deadlines and scheduling and meetings and arguments on set and and doubt and worry and fear and then he took it upon himself to tire you out enough that all of it shattered – crashed and consumed under the white noise in your head. Dieter liked to play however you needed it.

You can feel the seam of his jeans hover just beyond your fingertips, as though his hips swing unconsciously forward while he nips and sucks on your neck. God, you’d give anything to have the weight of him between your palms. 

When he speaks again, you realize at some point you squeezed your eyes shut, forgoing sight to chase the sensation that sparks across your skin every time he touched a new bare patch of skin on you. He pulls his head up from fixating a tender purple blush just below where your sweater covers your shoulder to catch your gaze in the mirror. Panthers do not watch with such hungry eyes. 

“Arms up.” It’s not a command, a request, but the words drip from his mouth, rich and sweet. He lets go of your wrists and your arms flutter above you, his fingers already rolling up the edge of your sweater. He drags it up, snagging your loose bra with it, and peeling them both off you. The immediate heat of his chest on your bare back is so hot, it burns cold. 

“Dieter,” you cry, nipples hardening in the cold air, goosebumps spiraling out along your skin. He’s there for you in an instant. 

He bites the soft, invisible hairs at your jaw, thick paws coming up to clutch your breasts, the sudden swap in temperature making your head swim. He pulls you against his chest, a new outer skin that breathes and moans and gasps, one that has a steady heartbeat your own has synced to. 

With his eyes fixated on you in the mirror, he molds your breast to his palm, rounding your nipples with his thumbs before sliding down between the curves of them. He licks the back of your neck. 

“Face down, baby,” he says. 

“But it’s cold,” you huff, pouting. You smooth your hands over his, his angular wrists, his broad thick forearms entombed in long back sleeves, then settle with your fingers in his hair. His height over you has your torso stretched, your tits bare and ripe, and he palms your stomach to the top of your ribs in two hands. He grunts when you twist his curls, keeping his head still so every bruise and wet spot on your shoulders and throat are all too visible. “Don’t you want to see all your good work?”

He blinks, slow and purposeful, his eyelids heavy, mouth parting. You can’t be sure of his decision, of what he wants, what he’s going to give, when his hands arch up the cradle of your arms, soft enough to tickle below your elbows, then around your wrists. He’s done this enough for you to know he wants you to let go.

You do. 

Fast as venom moves from fangs to flesh, he plants your hands on the counter, forcibly gripping the edge. This is how you hold on. 

He steps up against you again, iron-hot cock pressing without hesitancy between your ass cheeks, and unbuckles your pants without preamble.

“I’d rather just show you.” 

Broad hand bending your shoulders forward, fingers pressed flat over your shoulder, you gasp when your tits make contact with the cold counter, and an instant later, he’s filling your open mouth with his fingers. He wets them against the slip of your tongue and grabs your jaw. 

Your mind fracturing like cracking ice, you don’t hear the zip of his jeans, the groan as he takes himself out – barely feel the rub along your wet slit, the arranging of his fingers around your bare hip, the widening of your stance with his ankle. 

But you do feel it when he’s suddenly hilt-deep inside of you. 

You lurch forward with the weight of it, whining as though scalded at the sudden blinding pressure of pleasure and pain, and you slap a palm against the mirror to keep yourself from shattering through it. Behind you, Dieter looks like someone dislocated his kneecaps. 

“You good, baby?” He pants, drawing his hand out of your mouth, wet spit between his fingers as he cups your hanging breast. The sensation bleeds hot, then cold. Unable to help himself, he nuzzles your shoulder blades. 

You nod, eyes shut, the magnetic north sense of you spinning wildly off-kilter as you try to gulp in as much air as you can. You know you’re about to lose it anyway. He stands upright, not so much as inching out of you, when he plants his feet and nestles your ass against his hip bones, hands wiggling you further down his cock. 

“You’re so fucking gorgeous.” 

It’s said with such wonder, a breathless reverence, that you think he might not have realized he said it out loud. You glance over your shoulder, turning your head instead of finding him in the mirror. 

The facade of the Brooklyn banker is gone. Your Dieter stares, awe-struck, at the body he’s got impaled on his cock like it’s the first time he’s seen a naked woman. Soft, pliant, eager to please, your Dieter lets you collar him, peg him, and give it to you exactly as you ask.

“How do you want it?” The phrase is so familiar, so intimate when spoken from his pink lips, you shudder, a Pavlovian response that’s got you drooling somewhere else than your mouth. He lifts his gaze and finds you staring. 

There is no one else in that moment. Not a single living soul besides you and him in this white-tiled bathroom. You can almost hear the absence of people ringing in your ears. His open, hot mouth draws your eyes away from his and you want every bit of him as stuffed up inside you as you can handle. Twisted around, you lick his bottom lip over your shoulder before offering your tongue for him to suck.

He groans, and you breathe in intimacy you’ve never experienced before. A flushed ache rises from your chest, a precursor to the aches he’ll leave you with by morning. 

You tip your head back and thumb the bristly skin against his chin.

“Hard, baby. Please.”

For all his faults, for all his forgetting, Dieter switches brain waves as fast as you do, tethered together like the gravitational spin of space rocks in the wake of a gleaming comet.

“Okay.”

He distracts you from the pain of that first rough thrust by biting down on your shoulder.

His motions are short, targeted, and right up into the cradle of your cervix, the pace driven, unrelenting and hard. You shake with the force of them, as fragile as silverware on a table near the drop of an atom bomb. 

“Oh – fuck, Dieter–,” 

He pins your arm that had touched his chin to your chest, then his chest to your back, sealing your damp skin to his shirt. The curl of that wretched black turtleneck scratches deliciously against your low back. 

Grunting in low, short bursts, Dieter sabotages his own breathing by crushing you so tight to his chest. He sucks on your neck as if to draw the oxygen straight from your blood. The fingers on your hip steady you, just for his cock wrecks your insides. 

“You wan-na – ngh – you wanna know why it doesn’t bother me?” 

Each word is spat out from between his teeth. He’s giving you your requested punishment as much as he is sprinting after his own release.

“Tell me. Tell me please.” Your voice is scraped raw, breathless and gooey at the same time. 

“Because when you’re my wife, they won’t be able to do a fucking thing about it.” 

Around him, your cunt squeezes, his words sending shocks through your nerves. You whine as if he’d smacked your ass. 

“I fucking felt that. You like that. You want that. You want my fucking cock every day.”

Again, he plants your hands on the cold counter. 

“Push back against me, baby.” You anchor yourself, ass out, elbows and knees locked. “That’s it, that’s my fucking good girl.”

He lifts his body up right, off your sweaty neck and back, and with both hands pinching your waist, he yanks you up and down on his cock in long, rough thrusts, knees bending with enough force to send you onto your toes.  

“Gonna have to take it. Just – fucking – take – it –,”

His leaking cock drives up against that spot inside of you that makes your eyes roll back and body tense again and again, but yanks back before that hot feeling swells. It’s so close you’re dizzy from it. 

You want to fuck yourself on his cock but you can’t time your aching hips right, so you stop trying and bend forward more, exposing more of your cunt to him. 

“Dieter, please –,” 

“Baby, you gotta be quiet. I know you feel good, but you can’t let them hear us.”

The words are out of your mouth, breaking through the thick, drowning fog and through the hindbrain barrier.

“Fuck them. Let them hear.” 

Dieter’s hips slow, punch not as deeply, as if he’s curious what you’re going to say next.

“Take off your shirt. I wanna feel your skin.” 

He listens immediately, a very good boy at heart, and the first press of his soft chest against you nearly has you coming then. 

“Harder again, please.” 

Again, without a second’s hesitation, he kisses your ear before grappling your shoulder with one hand and your hip with the other and he takes up his position as owner and keeper of your sloppy cunt. 

You cry out, high and wrecked, some semblance of sanity knowing you’re being far too loud, and he bucks the words out of you.

“I wanna suck on your earring, Dieter.” He grunts as he doubles over as if trying to yank back an unrestrained and early release. He rubs his damp forehead in the patch of soft skin by your shoulder blade. 

“Say it again.” 

With every rock of his hips, you swing up higher, and higher, your thighs tensing, nails scraping the counter. 

“Wanna put it between my lips and suck until you’re cherry red. I wanna choke on your rings. So far down my throat I gag. Wanna – wanna – lick your tattoos – all of them – ‘til the ink blurs from my spit. I –,”

The noise he makes is pained, weak, a man at the end of his rope.

He pops your ass. “Shut up. You’re gonna come now.” 

His sweaty palms slip against the soft skin of your hips, and he keeps slipping with no leverage. 

“Stand on your toes.” You do and for an absurd second, you think he’s going to pick you up in a bear hug. He wraps his arms around your rib cage, his face nestled into the hot, sticky curve of your neck, in the flipped image of when he takes you after your legs get sore from riding him. Your tits spilling over his forearms, he keeps the ludicrous bend in your spine as well as the short, rough pace. You reach your fingers around the back of his head and hold on for dear life. 

The change in angle has stars blowing across your eyes, has you whimpering strings of pleas, veneration, and curses all threaded together. His own thighs shaking, he rubs the pads of three of his fingers across your clit and you’re over the edge. 

“Oh – oh, shit –,”

The electrical storm that’s been building one wiry shock at a time finally bursts and you go rigid from head to toe, turning to marble, to steel, bright and sharp. You can feel your own release dribble down your thigh, Dieter stuttering behind you.

“Wait – fuck,”

He tries to speed up, or press harder, but he’s coming so hard you feel it expand your cunt and ends up just making a leaking mess. The sensation shivers you through another minor wave. The crest goes high, then crashes, and you slump forward, cold nips be damned, and he follows you down a second later. 

The heated weight at your back and hard, cool marble squishing your tits is too much for your dazed brain to handle. Any looser and you might slip off the edge of the earth. 

Dieter seems to be in a similar state. He not so much pulls out of you as he goes weak-kneed to the floor. A single tug on your hip has you stumbling down with him.

Despite the garland around the stairs, despite the smell of cranberries in the air, despite the veneer of perfect holiday wholesomeness, it’s the slick layer of sweat, grime, and cum over your skin that has you finally smiling. 

You recognize you have been gone far too long – there’s not enough spiked hot cider in the world to ignore two missing bodies and a locked door. Dieter puts his barefoot preemptively up against the door frame and you giggle into his shoulder. 

“Oh, there’s the sound I’ve been missing!” He nuzzles you, a blissful smile breaking open his face, sunlight over storm clouds. He wiggles beneath you, trying to tug you on top of him, but with your jeans constricting your thighs, and his barely below his hips, all it really accomplishes is the two of you rolling around on the bathroom floor.

In a heap of limbs, slick skin, his knee catching the button of your jeans, you bump your nose against his chin, there’s something bright building in your chest – it’s twisting your mouth, pinching your cheeks – his fingers grab your elbow, his eyes lock into yours – 

And you’re laughing. 

You’re laughing too loud, all pretense gone. You can’t honestly care what they’re thinking downstairs.

He manages to get you under him, his damp hair clinging to his temples and tangling down in frizzy strands. 

“I’m gonna say this and I need you to actually hear me.” 

You nod, grinning up at him and lightly tracing his clavicle. 

He swats at your hand and holds it to your chest. 

“Don’t wait until it’s that bad, okay?” You chuckle and he bites the tip of your nose. “Listen to me, you little goblin, I’m trying to be serious for a second.”

You settle under him, fingers intertwining with his over your chest. Sincere Dieter is a beautiful thing to look at. 

“This holiday bullshit can be a lot. Spent a lot of them either in coke up to my eyeballs, or in the bathroom the next day. It fucking sucks that these are the people we can from, but we can’t change that. What’s important is the family we build right now–,”

Your mouth drops open, his words suddenly illuminating a future that had always seemed so blurry and distant. 

“Dieter, I –,”

“I’m gonna marry you someday, so let’s start with us.” He kisses the back of your hand. “We carry each other, okay?” 

You nod, the white light of that future searing a hole in your chest, exposing your heart to the open air, and bringing tears to your eyes. You nod, more assured, before kissing him on his bottom lip.

“Okay.” 

The next few minutes play out just like they would if you were at home: cleaning each other up, trying on clothes only to realize he grabbed your sweater instead, and bumping affectionate kisses wherever they could reach. 

At the top of the stairs, you don’t know what awaits you in the living room. What exactly you’ll be returning to. Who will catch you and who won’t.

But it doesn’t matter. His hand is around yours and he’s grinning petulantly against all the world. 

Is Dieter Bravo someone you could rely on? 

Your heart says yes. 

[vetteltea]

Love Will Always Show | CL16 & CS55

Summary: The choice of a lifetime is yours to make, your husband and lover both longing for your heart. They face conflict, choices and most importantly, one another.

Word Count: 8.4K [& a bit more]

Warnings: angst, mentions of cheating and dishonesty, manipulation, hospital talk.

Note: The fact I was a newbie to F1Blr when this started and now...here we are. I want to thank each and EVERY person who has ever read this series. It's changed everything for me, it is truly my love letter to you all and I hope you enjoy the finale. You are all forever in my heart and I cannot thank you all enough.

PART 1: A House, A Home | PART 2: Where Do We Go? | PART 3: ‘You Think, You Know’ | PART 4: 'Love Will Always Show'

Love is a gentle hand cradling your back. 

Time had suspended when your body had collapsed onto the rough floor outside of the Scuderia Ferrari hospitality. Immediately, several scarlet-clad personnel were running over, shouts echoing across the open space, somebody mumbling that they needed to get you somewhere safe and warm before your body temperature dropped dangerously. 

There’s a question of who to call; your father wasn’t in the country, ever since your mother’s funeral, he’s become silent, your siblings having been lovingly sent to stay with a close aunt. He had been absent from the previous Ferrari meeting, his assistant having sent a message to say he would be absent for a little longer. Clearly, the death of your mother was taking a toll. 

The next obvious choice of course, was your husband. However, with the win that he had been craving for oh-so-long, he was currently wrapped up in press, endless ‘congratulations’ messages from celebrities and presenters alike. Nobody would know where to find the monegasqué right now, let alone how to tell him of his wife’s status whilst surrounded by endless television cameras and sly reporters. 

There’s no need for him, anyway. Leaving the media pen after vigorous questioning of his loyalty to the team and his current emotions on a premature end to the race, Carlos’ dark eyes quirk to the side, registering the crowd of bodies circling the hospitality area. They only widen when the realization dawns on his clouded mind that it’s you, your body is the one thing they are all crowding around. 

His steps break into a run, no signal being given to his media manager nor his cousin. He speaks a few sharp, spanish words, creating a break in the circle, able to insert his toned body into the sea of red, immediately squatting, one hand coming out to elevate the back of your head. He knows how particular you could be with your hair, how you insisted on now sleeping on silk pillowcases to keep it healthy. Asphalt ground was not comfortable nor hygienic. 

There’s talk; talk about whether to take you to the hospital, whether to wait for your husband to return and make the decision. Carlos feels his blood curdle at the use of marital status. His teammate, the man who had treated you no better than the way he had treated bonds of trust, was the one to make a choice of your health and wellbeing. 

He simply cannot stand for that. 

“We need to take her to the hospital.” He interrupts the commotion, the strong tone settling over the panicked employees. “Surely that is the best place for her if she is unconscious, no?” The whispers and mumbles which echo the surrounding members of the team signify agreement. 

There’s a discussion of how to bring you in without drawing attention to the media. Surely, if a giant ambulance or even a medical car was to storm through the paddock, no doubt endless media outlets would be creating headlines before even bothering to speak to anybody present. The Spaniard is already making his own choice, using his arms to gently adjust your body.

He shouldn’t; he really shouldn’t be moving you, not when you haven’t been checked for broken bones or concussion. Yet, the idea of the most beautiful girl, Mariposa, lying on a hard floor with no form of comfort or safety sickens him to his stomach. Carlos is still gentle with the movements, letting your head lean into his stomach, one hand is supporting your back, tanned fingers digging gentle patterns into the curve of your skin. The other one traces once, twice, three times around your cheekbone, dark eyes transfixed on your features. 

You must have hit your skin when falling to the ground; there’s a graze dancing across your cheekbone, specks of dirt resting in between each knock. The man cradling you is gentle, moving his shirt just enough up his body that he’s able to take the hemmed end, feather it across your cheek in an attempt to remove the offending chunks. 

Someone nudges Carlos’s shoulder, more in an attempt to tell him somebody was just outside the Paddock; that they could drive you to the hospital right now. He…he can’t bring himself to leave you. A strong grasp lifts you from the ground, holding you close to his chest, murmuring that he would get you there, and he supposed somebody would have to find Charles. 

The area grows quiet; Carlos’ pace draws away from the Paddock and to the back entry. He was thankful that the entirety of the drivers were still either trapped in the media or with their own teams, celebrating or commiserating. He had enough of that for one day; an entire six laps was barely worth speaking about. 

You’re still unconscious, still limp in his arms. However, there’s a rise and fall of your chest, you’re still breathing. That’s all he could ask for at this present time. He silently promises himself there and then that when you wake up, he’s making his final move. Where Charles has been playing chequers, he is playing chess; he had proven that even whilst you were stuck with your estranged husband, he would love you regardless.

There’s a people carrier in the car park, he’s certain he’s seen various drivers use it before; a built-in stretcher lies in the back, it’s ideally a discreet ambulance. The media could be brutal with gossiping when any driver had to leave the track. It would look worse if Charles Leclerc’s wife was seen leaving the paddock with his teammate. The driver of the vehicle nods when seeing the two get closer, stepping to sit in the driver’s seat whilst Carlos adjusted his grasp. 

He lays you down onto the stretcher; it’s secured, you’ll be safe for the drive. The man can’t help but feel a draw of protectiveness over you. What on earth had caused it to collapse? Had he done something? Blood boiled, if your husband had done anything to cause this, he could personally guarantee that Charles would not be finishing any races for the remainder of the season. He would make sure of that. 

His attention is caught by the glimmer of silver on your left hand; your wedding band. When he reaches the car, tucks you into the seat carefully and makes sure the seatbelt is secure around your frame, his fingers glide over your hand, removing the band and putting it in his own pocket. 

‘It’s for your own good,’ he tells himself. ‘If your fingers swell up, they may need to cut it off.’ He could tell himself this story a thousand times; it doesn't hide the fact that his true intention in this moment is simple; for once, he could be the devoted husband, taking his wife to be nursed back to health. 

The Spainard leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your forehead, murmuring that you were going to be okay, that he would stay with you the entire time. The driver shouts, telling him to take a seat so they could get there before the press figured out something was wrong. He kisses your skin once more, before closing the doors, sprinting to the backseat, throwing his body in carelessly. 

Angst overtakes his senses, shouting at the driver to start the car, he doesn't care about being strapped in. This way, he’s able to lean over the backseat, one hand reaching out to clasp at your own. You need to know that somebody is there, that he is there for you. He’s always been there for you. The car pivots out of the parking space, beeling for the main road and to the hospital. 

Love is a scream for your name. 

“Charles, tu dois ralenir!” Joris is insisting he needs to slow down the car; turning the current Leclerc in hospital into a duo would not be a satisfying outcome. 

Ever since he’s been told, all your husband can see is red mist. One Ferrari employee had sprinted up to him whilst he was in the midst of cameras, the grin on his face as he’s finally able to seek his wife out, wanting nothing more than to skip on the Scuderia celebrations and take you instead, your beaming smile radiating the energy he had been bathed in. 

It’s funny how life can change in the matter of a few moments; one second, he’s on top of the world, the next, Charles is pushing through every media outlet, fan and celebrity, barging himself into his driver’s room. He doesn't have time to remove his fireproofs, to pick up any of his belongings apart from his car keys. He isn’t communicating, french profanities fall from his lips, shaking his head in rage that nobody could find him to tell him. Tell him that his wife had been taken to hospital. 

Joris had been the one to sprint after him; he knew better than most, when Charles saw nothing but mist, there was no getting to him, not whilst he was determined to do something. The driver knew in his heart his best friend was not to blame; after all, he had no idea of your disappearance, he had been with Charles almost the entire time. And yet…he can’t bring himself to even speak to Joris. Not until the duo make it to his rented car, Charles is adamant he is driving. 

He only starts speaking when his best friend tells him to slow down. The driver barely does, only drawing to a slower pace when he sees the traffic lights start to build in front of him. Even in a panic, he respects road rulings. Drawing to a stop, the man finally has a second to take a shaky, unbalanced breath, angry tears pooling at the bottom of his eyes. 

“Why did nobody tell me my wife was at the hospital?” His voice is strained, he’s clearly holding back tears, whether they’re angry or fearful is a different question. “She’s my- she’s my wife!” He can’t stop repeating it, as if it’s a prayer. His wife. His wife. 

“She’ll be okay.” Joris knows that’s quite possibly the worst thing he could say to his best friend, but it’s the only thing he can bring himself to say. “She will be. C’est juste par précaution.” 

“Putain!” Charles’ words are sharp, immediately pressing on the acceleration as the light switches to green, overtaking three cars in a matter of moments. He’s a man of regret, he has been ever since he realized how much he adores you. In that moment, he can’t help but think of everything he could have done differently that afternoon. He could have come and found you right after the podium, could have given you his jacket and told you to stay in his driver’s room, he would come and get you after. He could- he could of-

He could of waited with you after the funeral. He could have come and picked you up from Milan when you went to spend time with Carlos. He could have deleted his mistress’ number, and told her he was married. 

“Tourner à gauche.” Joris tells his best friend to turn left, the Hospital Car Park coming into view. Charles turns the car, immediately eyes are roaming for any space, anywhere he could put the car. A sharp whistle and point from his best friend shows him a space right by the Emergency Department, parking the vehicle in possibly the worst way he ever has done. Within three seconds, the engine is switched off, seatbelts are unbuckled, and he’s shouting to Joris to pay for the parking, he needs to get inside. 

For a driver, his sense of direction is becoming worse. It takes him a solid minute to read a sign, before his legs break into a sprint, skidding into a bustling Emergency Room. There’s old men, leant over in pain, convinced they’re dying. A child snuffling, masses of paper towels on her head. A woman with a twisted ankle, her attention engrossed by the magazine in her grasp. It smells of hand sanitiser and bleach, the yellow walls are hurting his eyes. 

A woman behind the desk taps the counter, drawing his attention. “Hey- Sir!” She snaps. You can’t blame her; it’s hour thirteen of her fifteen hour shift. “You can’t be in here unless you’re hurt-”

He shouts your name. It’s as if he completely forgets he’s in a building. Charles is embedded in a maze, even if a lady in front of him can pull up your immediate location, he needs to find you himself, and he needs to find you now. 

It isn’t until Joris comes in, having heard his best friend scream your name, that he overtakes Charles so overcome that he’s now hiding his head in his hands, unable to say anything that wasn’t your name. His ears prick up when the second man starts speaking, giving the woman your first name, your last name- Leclerc- and when you had been bought in. There’s a light tapping of the keyboard, she tells Joris you are in the department round the corner, room ten-

Charles is gone before she can finish her sentence, catapulting down the hallway, dodging round endless people, frantically searching for doors with numbers, not names. He sees the number four. Six. Eight. 

Number Ten rolls into view. Without a single word, his hand latches around the door handle, pushing so violently the door smacks onto the inside wall. His eyes immediately fly to the bed, you’re lying there, so unconscious, still so beautiful, some strips over the graze on your cheek. Still, arms to either side, one hand connected to an IV, clearly in an attempt to rehydrate you. His first question is the location of your wedding ring, where on earth was it? Has it been taken away? It’s a question he completely forgets about when his gaze travels further. 

The other hand is being held by a Spanish man he knows all too much about. 

Love is notes left on a coffee cup. 

Both men stood, silently hovering over your body whilst the nurse came in to run a course of tests, check your blood pressure, the IV line, make sure you were being cared for in the best capacity. Each held a coffee cup, Charles’ still primarily full, he couldn’t stomach anything; he felt sick from seeing you lie here, not laughing, smiling, speaking. Carlos had downed the drink bought in by Joris in a matter of moments; to him, it was fuel. Something to keep him awake until you woke up. 

Whilst Charles was the one to ask questions; ‘Do you know what caused this? Is she going to have any long-term issues? Does she need any assistance when she wakes up?’ Carlos has captured the marker which has rested alongside the clipboard of your notes, his tongue poked out in concentration. The marker grazes along the cup, leaving a note, drawing a tiny picture of a butterfly- Mariposa- and placing the cup on your table, a silent message for if you woke up and god forbid- he wasn’t there.

The nurse draws away from your body, diverting her next task to the two men. 

“I need to continue the examination but…” She looks to the door. “I cannot have you both in here. You need to wait outside, the Doctor will come in for further tests-”

“Can one of us wait here?” Carlos is the first to interrupt, the look on the woman’s face tells him he’s made a mistake. 

“Both.” She clarifies, pointing at himself, then at his teammate. “One and two. You need to wait outside. If she wakes up or there’s any…issues, we will let you know.” 

It turns out, both men are hesitant to leave you; Charles moves first, crouching by your side, running a gentle hand over your hairline, pressing his lips carefully to your temple. He’s murmuring, french words of adoration and comfort, that he will be right there when you need him. 

When one steps away, the other comes forward. Carlos doesn't say anything, instead tracing a gentle finger across your cheek. His touch tells you everything, it speaks volumes. He loves you, he’ll be outside, don’t be afraid to come running into his arms like you had done once before. The nurse begins to lose her patience, ushering both men out into the corridor, telling them to sit in the plastic chairs provided or go somewhere else; she really didn’t care. 

The scene is reminiscent of two boys sitting outside of the principal’s office; Charles’ head hides in his hands, leaning forward, still dressed in his fireproofs. He’s tied the sleeves around his waist, the dark undershirt now drenched in sweat from the driving, both on track and to the hospital. 

He feels movement next to him, Carlos’ hand dips into his pocket, pulling out something small, silvery. Her wedding ring. He supposes Carlos means it as a sign of goodwill, that he kept it safe. In the Monégasques mind, it’s the fuel to light the fire. Scoffing, he snatches the jewelry off of his teammate, placing the band onto his pinky finger, it’s the only one it would fit on, the only way he could keep it safe. 

“Funny. You took it off her.” He’s growing mad, aggravated that Carlos wouldn’t just go away and leave him and his wife alone. Hadn’t he done enough already? “Why don’t you go back to Natasha?” The blonde ex-media woman for their team is referenced. Carlos opens his mouth, ready to snap back, it was a low blow for Charles to reference his history with the woman. 

“I know what you did.” He huffs. There’s something…different. Different in the way he speaks to Carlos now compared to every other day. The polite, civil conversation is gone, the fact he couldn’t pass judgment because of his own actions has evaporated. “I know you invited her to Madrid just to make a move.” He remembers seeing the instagram stories, how your eyes were wide, full of life. He made you remember life is beautiful. “You kept her close. You wanted her and didn’t like that she was mine.” 

“Yours?” He scoffs. “She’s not your property, Charles.” 

“No. But she’s my wife. I’m the one she lies next to every night, I’m the one who will care for her in sickness and health, who’s shoulder was leant on through every bad time.” He pauses. “Who picked her up after you coaxed her into your bed.” He laughs. Actually, laughs. The memory replayed in his head, how sleepy you looked as he guided you back into the SUV, how your heart sank when seeing the blonde approach his front door. In that moment, you had convinced yourself you meant nothing to Carlos apart from lust. 

Charles was a jealous man; he had taken pride in stripping off his teammates' clothing, wrapping you in his own, soft hoodie. You were his. Carlos wouldn’t care for you the way he did, he was a man too full of lust. He was convinced the Spainard didn’t make you laugh, didn’t make you smile, didn’t make you come- 

“You corrupted her, Carlos.” He finishes. “I know what you did-”

“-And I know what you did.” Carlos snarls. He doesn't care about anything more; he knows all too well that his teammate could go crying to the Ferrari bosses, have him removed from the team in a blink of an eye, throwing some false information out which he would have to comply with. But he doesn't care. His affection has grown too strong for that. 

“I know everything, Charles.” He’s monotone, he’s stating facts. “I know how she waited at home for you on her birthday, whilst you were in your mistress’ bed.” Carlos remembers asking you about your plans the previous week, how you had brushed them off. “I know how she made you dinner every night, how you refused to eat it.” Charles feels his stomach drop, the endless leftovers stacked neatly in the fridge, the meals he had never bothered to try. “I know on your wedding night, you came into the hotel room drunk, covered in bites and she slept on the sofa-”

“Enough!” Charles’ voice shouts, standing up from the plastic chair in the corridor. He doesn't have to hear this, he can’t bear to hear this. One mistake a day was something he was always able to brush off. Hearing each and every one of his infidelities laid out in front of him sent his mind into overdrive. “You have no right to comment on-”

“On what?” The Spainard is standing up now, chest out and arms folded. “On your marriage?” He laughs, he smirks. “Can you call it that? A marriage is a bond between two people who love one another-”

“I love her!” Charles cuts him off, stepping closer. “I love her.” He repeats himself. Carlos looks gobsmacked, shaking his head in denial. 

“You have a really weird way of showing her you love her.” He continues to poke, to prod. “Sharing a bed with another woman is not how you show love-”

“I admitted to my mistakes!” He’s quick to defend himself, how the restraining order was placed and a lawsuit filed, how he promised if you wanted to know anything, see anything, he would let you. How he would spend the rest of his days always feeling dread and regret. “I fixed them-”

“Who says she still loves you?” Carlos has snapped.

Charles hates to admit that he may be right. Is it really fair for him to expect your love after everything that has happened in the past year? It didn’t matter how many times he begged, he pleaded or promised. The man you had married had spent the better part of 365 days in the arms of another woman, a woman that as he stood here, clinging onto any hope of his marriage, meant absolutely nothing to him. 

His slim fingers trail down, circling the cool band which rested on his left finger. He had decided there and then, he would keep it on, always. There would be no more reasoning, none. If Lewis could wear his earrings, Charles would wear his wedding ring. He looks back up, Carlos still boring into him with dark eyes, the anger he radiated almost entirely visible. 

“Do you love her?” He presses. He needs to know; he doesn't bring himself to care that you had spent a night in his arms, not when he had done it to you a thousand times over. The idea makes him sick, but nothing compared to the idea that you are in love with somebody that isn’t him, not when he needs nothing but for you to come home, back to your home with him. 

Charles swears he feels vomit rise into his mouth when Carlos nods. He’s not stupid, not really. He knows how he fell for you properly in the past few weeks, how for Carlos who has been in awe of your affection and attention, the center of every race weekend you had reluctantly attended. It may have been to support him, but you could still enjoy the fact that Carlos would be there, too. 

Your husband isn’t sure what he wants to do anymore. If there wasn’t an examination happening, he would have run into your private room and locked the door. Instead, his glassy eyes gaze up, catching Carlos’ dark ones. It hits him at once; his teammate, somebody who he once considered a close- no, best friend, was the one who had taken his wife away from him. His brain can’t catch up with his body movements, the red mist clouds over once more. 

Charles Leclerc punches Carlos Sainz in the nose. 

He doesn't intend for it to be a strong punch; Formula One drivers are a lot stronger than they realize, and the contact not only causes the Spaniard to knock back, shouting out in pain, but a sharp sensation rockets through Charles’ clenched fist, wiggling his fingers as they relax. Carlos’ nose is immediately red, becoming scarlet by the moment, though no blood has fallen. Your husband’s immediate reaction is ‘Should have punched him harder.’

He doesn't have time to think about anything else, not before he has two strong hands on his chest, shoving him harshly. The sudden sensation causes him to lose balance, falling to the floor and landing on his back. A shock radiates through his body, Carlos looming over him, clearly ready for a second punch. 

That thought is drawn away when the door to your room opens, both men immediately staring at the nurse, her hair worn and eyes tired. Before either man can throw a question at her, she speaks. 

“She’s still not awake, we’re going to bring her around in an hour, but she’s going to have to stay overnight for observation. If one of you could get her some overnight things-”

“I can.” Charles immediately cuts off the nurse, pulling himself to sit up and stand from the floor. “I’m her husband. I will get them.” It’s a subtle jab to the man in front of him, Carlos still holding his nose, convinced it was about to start bleeding any moment. He would have gone and sought out attention for himself, if he hadn’t felt a sharp vibration in his back pocket, a phone call. In any other time, he would have ignored it. But he knows who it is, he knows how important it is. 

Without a word, Carlos answers the call, rapidly speaking in Spanish as he walks down the hall. 

Love is a pocket square at the bottom of a suitcase.

The contrast of Charles leaving the hospital was night and day to him arriving. He hadn’t spoken a word to Joris, apart from expressing that he needed to go back to the hotel to get your overnight items. Although it was barely a ten minute drive away, every minute felt like a century; he wanted nothing more than to go back to the hotel, sit by your side and hold your hand until you woke up. 

He could have sent Joris back, given him the room key and told him to grab some things, but it didn’t seem right. The idea of his best friend going through your suitcase didn’t sit comfortably with him. Moreover, he didn’t know. Charles knew; he knew what pajamas you found the most comfortable, what outfit would be easiest for you to travel back in, how you wanted your panties and socks paired together and how your phone charger had to loop clockwise. 

The ornate hotel room looks dull without you; your suitcase still rests in the bottom of the wardrobe; you had hung up evening wear, dresses for the inevitable after-parties. Folded in your suitcase remained your other clothing. Charles is quick to select his items; the tropical cotton pajamas. You had bought him a pair in the same fabric, telling him that they would be the comfiest thing to sleep in. Your stitched jumper and comfiest jeans. You had worn those jeans when you had tagged along to his photoshoot for the Ferrari livery, holding his water and the APM Monaco jewelry he couldn’t wear. Your outrageously expensive hairbrush. You had brushed his hair through after a particularly bad race, whispering promises that it would get better, that the car was going to evolve for him, the best driver on the grid. 

Bile rises to Charles’ stomach and with no warning, he sprints to the bathroom, dropping to his knees by the toilet and throwing up the barely-there contents of his stomach. He had barely eaten, barely drank any water, but couldn’t help the sickness in his tummy. 

He pulls away from the toilet basin, eyes watery, breath trying to catch up with the speed and cries.

Charles doesn't realize it’s happening at first, he hasn’t cried like this in so long; the kind of crying where you can’t fathom words, you don’t make a sound because you’re crying so deeply. The kind where your chest is exploding and your heart feels like it’s going to explode. The kind where all he wants is for his mother to cradle him like she did when he was five, run her hands through his hair and whisper him words of comfort.

This time, he doesn't want his mother, he wants you. 

It’s selfish, it’s so incredibly selfish and it hurts to know that it’s taken him until now to realize what you mean to him. It would never happen, but his wound-up head can only close his eyes and visualize you running in, pulling his head into your chest and running your hands through his dark tufts, pressing cool lips to his forehead and promising him over and over that it was going to be okay. You were going to be okay. 

He lets himself cry for five minutes; he times it because he wants to collect your things and make his way back, Joris was waiting in the car. When the five minutes are over, he pinches his nose, taking short, ugly gasps until his eyes remain bloodshot but not blurred. The sound of the toilet flushing echoes through the hotel room, making his way out of the bathroom and to the items he had hurriedly dropped atop of your suitcase.

Nimble fingers cradle each item, carefully rolling and tucking them into a pillowcase; he didn’t have a bag big enough to suffice each item and couldn’t bring himself to bring your entire suitcase along, it almost seemed as if once you had it, you could disappear from his life. At least this way, he could have one final farewell if you chose to leave. The items are almost secure, until his grip on the pillowcase folds, glassed eyes catching a glimmer of blue hidden at the bottom of the case. With no hesitation, he pulls on the fabric. His heart drops on the realization of the item. 

It’s a pocket square. More specifically, it’s his pocket square from your wedding. 

You don’t know when you had started packing it, but you supposed it was from your mother’s own doings. After her wedding to your father, she had always carried around her ‘something blue,’ as a gesture of good luck, of safety. After the first time you had found out about Charles’ mistress, you had discreetly tucked the fabric into your bag, carrying it around, a silent hope your husband would return to you. 

It hadn’t worked in Jeddah. In Imola. In Spa. In Monaco. You had reluctantly taken it from your bag one evening, on the plane home from consoling your family, using your pen to doodle in the very corner ‘Mr and Mrs Leclerc,’ a silent fantasy of the loving marriage you had dreamed of. 

That night was the first time you and Charles ever shared a bed. 

The fabric lingers between his fingers, the blue contrasting against the silver of your ring, still resting on his pinky finger. Now changed into his own clothes, he slides the ring off, wrapping it gently in the pocket square and sliding it into his trouser pocket. As he does, he recognises your handwriting, the titles printed in the bottom of the fabric. 

He can’t help the tears rolling down his cheeks once again. 

Love is a desperate telephone call.

Carlos is still pacing around the outside courtyard of the hospital, having been on hold for a grand total of seventeen minutes. He is not a man of patience, he is not a man of quiet. 

The phone buzzing in the corridor had been a welcome call, despite the situation. His lawyer, finally ringing him back after what felt like days of apprehension. He had dipped from the public eye to try and grab hold of some privacy, slipping in his wireless headphone so as not to hold the device to his ear for hours upon hours. 

Almost thirty minutes ago, his lawyer had called him, confirming his thoughts of the previous days. 

"You're not wrong." His lawyer has already clarified it once, twice, three times. "If there is evidence beyond a shadow of a doubt, then it is the correct term for a divorce.

Carlos feels his blood run cold. He loves her, he's as certain as that as he is of the fact that the sky is blue and his win in Silverstone. The man wants nothing more than to make her feel cherished, adored. Taking a bite out of his teammate was just a bonus feature. 

That had been a few days ago, when the anger had surpassed him after Natasha’s return, how that made him look as bad, if not worse than Charles. He’d immediately sent her packing, blocked her on every form of media, gone as far as to insist if she ever came for a visit, he wouldn’t be present. 

The second part, the evidence, had been laid out all too perfectly. 

The line suddenly clicks, signaling his lawyer had returned. Carlos doesn't wait for a verbal queue, the audible sign of his return is more than enough. 

 “Do you have it?” He asks, barely any time to let the man on the other end of the phone respond. “You must have it, no? It should have been sent. I made sure it was sent.”

“I have it.” He clarifies. “I have them right here.” A rustle of paper is heard from the other end of the telephone, content of an envelope being spilled onto his desk. “Are you sure you want me to send these to be confirmed as evidence? That the women in the photographs will not retaliate?”

Carlos had not been entirely honest with you. Not about his knowledge of Charles’ situation. Ever since the confession all those months ago, the understanding that you knew of Charles’ affair, he had been playing a long, patient game. He had photographs, evidence of the mistress’ appearance at each paddock, her arms snaking around Charles’ body, kisses between the duo. How he could continue to do so, whilst you, the epitome of beauty, sat in his drivers’ room, playing the doting wife.  At one point, he had considered going directly to the press, directly to Ferrari themselves to out their ‘Golden Boy.’ 

And then…he had seen you with him in the Paddock that one race, looking through the window of his driver’s room. How your fingers latched onto one another, how genuinely shattered you looked when she had shown up yet again, lingering outside of the hospitality area. The guilt snuck through him, how he had seen her arrive, and yet failed to mention to you, give you any warning of her presence. 

Even if he had been the one to invite her. Even if he had been the one to press her about sending the photographs to Charles, not blackmail. Merely a reminder of his actions, how much he supposedly missed his mistress. 

“She wouldn’t.” He’s quick to respond. “She wouldn’t care.” He’s not wrong, his mistress being in the limelight would only elevate her status, with the way his teammates’ brain worked, it would more than likely draw them back to one another. 

“And Mrs. Leclerc?” 

It’s the first time Carlos has hesitated. Even if he couldn’t admit it to himself, he knew that your relationship with Charles had grown, that ambient it was made paper-thin, the trust was slowly beginning to come back. He thinks about how your eyes blinked widely, in awe of your husband on the podium earlier that day, how it supposedly didn’t matter he had spent most of your marriage wrapped in her arms, you still looked at him like that. Did you look at him like that? Like the way he looked at you. 

This action could draw out a multiverse of reactions but at the end of the day, he had settled with two. The first was that you understood, that you would see the evidence, and understand the case. Divorce Charles and marry him, even if it meant he would give up everything. 

The second is that you would see the chaos he caused and you would never speak to him again. 

“Mr. Sainz?” The voice at the end of the telephone draws him from his questioning, running a hand across his red, swollen nose. It wasn’t broken, but god it was hurting. Bruised, most likely. “I need an answer.” 

He needed to speak to you. 

“Can you just-” He huffs, running a hand through his dark hair, his fingers almost getting caught in the strands. Of course his hair was tangled, he’d been doing nothing but pulling on it ever since he arrived at the hospital. “Let me speak to her. Hold it for 24 hours. You can do that, yes?” It’s not even a question now, nor a request. It’s a demand. He can’t do this, he can’t openly destroy your marriage for his own sake without speaking to you, without knowing for a fact that you love him.

Your name is carved onto his soul, onto his skin. The first thing he thinks about in the morning, and the last thing he would think about at night. There is no life he wishes to live in if you’re not there. Even as his friend. 

There’s suddenly a light tap against glass, snapping the man’s attention from his device. He mumbles something in Spanish, telling his lawyer he would call him back, dreading who was coming out into the private courtyard. 

He visibly relaxes when he sees it’s just a man, sneaking out whilst tears pool on his lower lashline, giving Carlos a warming nod. 

“You don’t mind if I join you, do I?” The Spainard shakes his head. “My wife- she’s just being induced and wanted some space. She’s…” He gestures, trying to explain to a complete stranger how a few minutes ago, his wife wanted to cry and shake her head, but wanted nothing to do with him. It was all his fault. 

Carlos offers a warm hand on his back, patting him firmly. “Congratulations. Do you know what you're having?” He’s invested, anything to distract him from his previous phone call, the weight of a decision on his shoulders.

The stranger grins. “A girl.” He smiles harder. “I don’t mind, as long as they arrive happy and healthy. But god- a girl, just like her.” He thinks. Carlos thinks. In an alternative universe, he’s sat by your side, pressing kisses and praises to your skin, holding you tighter as your daughter enters the world, ready to meet her mother and father. She would be like you; your eyes, hair, smile. It would be another you to love, to adore. 

“Your first?” Carlos presses his question. The man sighs, shaking his head, shoving his hands into his pockets as he looks into the polished corridor. 

“No. She’s…” He pauses. “We got together after hiding how we felt for so long, how we wanted to be with one another.” He looks to Carlos, clearly ashamed and embarrassed of the situation. “I know how it sounds, but sometimes you can’t help it. I- I love her.” 

A band snaps in Carlos’ stomach; love knows no bounds. 

Love is waking up to think of your person.

The first thing you register when you come around is brightness. You’re not in the soft glow of the luxurious hotel room you and your husband had been given, nor the candle-lit bedroom of Carlos’ apartment. No, the light is bright, blinding. An off-white which made your eyes squint. 

Your senses are heightened; the only scent which flares through your nostrils is hand sanitiser and overpowering lilies. Nose scrunched, you attempt to wiggle your body upwards, aware of the IV line pinned into your hand. Panic immediately settled through your tummy, until your eyes flickered to the bag, realizing it was just water, they just wanted to rehydrate you. 

Hesitantly, you wiggle each part of your body. Arms, hands, fingers. You’re able to move, though you couldn’t…you couldn’t remember why you got here. Memories are hazy, you remember Charles’ podium, the way he kissed you so deeply, so lovingly. Carlos’ hand on your waist, pulling you back to stop you from the champagne trickling over your body. You were overwhelmed, overworked and…you guessed it just all became too much. 

You just about manage to turn your body, the first thing you’re aware of is that your cushion smells familiar. Warm nodes, sandalwood and seasalt. It’s a smell you’ve grown all too accustomed to, burying your face into their chest whilst you took refuge in his arms, in a hotel room. Charles had been there, already. His celebrations had clearly been cut short, whether or not it was for show or because he cared. 

The second thing is the coffee cup. Cardboard, the contents clearly already drained, but handwriting etched onto the side in a thick, black marker. The handwriting, the doodle of a tiny butterfly. Carlos had been there, too. 

There’s a sharp pinch on your cheek, fingers reach up to your skin and feel the butterfly strips against you. Immediately, a thousand questions come back to your mind, none of them being answered through your own memory. Instead, the door opens, a nurse in clean, bright uniform walking in, closing the door behind her. She beams at the realization you’re awake, shoulders relaxing. 

“You’re awake!” Her tone is incredibly warm, seemingly very happy you’ve decided to wake up on your own terms. She’s quick to move to your bedside, pressing the back of her hand to your forehead. “How are you feeling? Have you warmed up?” You’re not sure what she’s referencing, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She takes the look on your face as unknowingness, able to fill in the gaps. 

“You collapsed on the track.” She’s trying to get through everything she needs to tell you. “We did some tests, you’re incredibly dehydrated for a start, you need to try and get some rest.” She pauses. “It’s nothing to be concerned about, we have collapses from dehydration every so often, more than you would realize.” Her eyes flicker down, finding it hard on how to phrase the next part of the question. “You also seem…incredibly worried.” You’re not sure how she could tell that from simply examining you, but you nod in confirmation. “Your blood pressure, it’s incredibly low. That’s why you fainted.”

“Yes.” You pause. How on earth were you about to explain the past twelve months to a nurse, a complete stranger? “There’s been some…reasons. You know, for the stress.” Her eyes soften, but the questioning continues. 

“Are you trying for a baby?” You shake your head. “Moving house?” A shake. “Have you…lost somebody recently.” 

You freeze, memory flickering to your mother, how in the midst of fixing your marriage, discovering your affection towards another, she had disappeared from the world. This time, you nod your head, drawing your knees up to your body, shivering. The nurse is quick to wrap a blanket over your shoulders, closer to the answer. 

“I lost my mother.” You breathe out, shaking your head. “I lost my mother, and she’s the only one I can go to.” Now you’ve started speaking, you can’t finish. “I want to make them happy. I want to make him happy.” There’s tears glassing over your eyes.

You want him. You want him right now. 

She sympathizes, she understands. “Sometimes, all you need is for them to tell you it’s going to be okay, right?” She lets her words trail off, turning to the door of your room. “He’s outside. He’s been waiting to see you.”

Your blood freezes.

“Would you like me to get him?” 

You nod before you’ve even realized, your body clearly knows better than your mind. The nurse stands up straight, pacing towards the door as you feel your heart begin to race harder, frantically. She steps out of the room, a minute mumble on the other side, clearly a warning to be incredibly careful. It’s barely a minute before the door swings back open, dark hair and frantic panting. 

You glance up, your heart softens at those eyes. 

The eyes that you, the reader, wanted to see as you glanced to the door.

GREEN EYES [CL16 Ending]

BROWN EYES [CS55 Ending]

This is everyone who asked to be tagged! @Mac-daddy-210 @aundercover@barnestatic@omgsuperstarg@chimchimjiminie16@caelum-the-part-time-nihilist @magicalcowboyarbiter @gaslasysblog@junetto @beatrizmel-472 @motorsp0rt@crowdthena@screemqueen@lewislvr@styles-sunflower@itspaddockprincess@adeptustemptations @amalialeclerc @meetmyblondemuffins@formulanando@lorarri@christianpulisic10@gaypoetsblog@thisbitxhs-blog@goldsainz@ru-kru@magical-spit@hrlzy@nooshytushie@gaslysainz@marvel-at-stucky@sugarvibez@adeptustemptations@roseseraj@leclercdream@pjofics@hecatesfavoritechild@poseforme@thisbitxhs-blog @adalynneva @meganlikes2purr @sabrinaselina55 @laneyspaulding19@heavenlyiecreature@pink-teddy-bear@nooshytushie@strawberries-and-racing@milasexutoire@ohthemisssery@florkt@obsessedwiththeideaofyou@ru-kru@myhomeworksnotdone@ineedafictionalman@bregarc@allywthsr@summerslike11@wildcupcake@willowpains@marlenamallowan@leclercloml@katzenwahnsinn@be-your-coffee-pot

[staylovesmiley]

Going Dumb~ Chapter 11

₊˚⊹ᰔ Pairing; Kim Seungmin x Fem!reader, Stray kids x Fem!reader

₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ Summary; It had been over a decade since you had last seen each other, having met in choir when Seungmin was living with his grandparents in LA and you with your Aunt. Now that you are both presented adults, how will he handle a change to the reality of you he had made in his mind in your absence over the years?

₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ Notes; This is an omegaverse!AU. in this world when someone reaches puberty they will present with one of three sub genders; alpha, beta, or omega. Due to Alphas and Omegas experiencing rut and heat, some jobs are restrictive as to what sub genders they will hire, specifically singling out omegas as heat suppressants are harder to obtain than rut suppressants. Scent glands are located near the pressure points on the neck and small hormonal patches called scent blockers can be placed over them to reduce or rid an individual of their scent for a period of time depending on the strength of the hormones in the patch.

₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ Warnings; omegaverse!au, beta!kim seungmin, almost all alpha!straykids, female!reader, poly!pack dynamics, angst, mild violence, mentions of sexual harassment/assault and discrimination, smut, enemies to lovers, Kim seungmin is kind of an ass I’m so sorry dandy boy, she/her pronouns used for reader, jealous seungmin, I have only ever wrote one abo story before but it is one of my favorite genres so I hope I can do this justice~

As the sun rose outside, sunlight filtered through the large windows and cast the bedroom in bright hues of orange and yellow. As you stirred from your sleep you felt the arms around you tighten slightly as Seungmin still held you to his chest in a warm embrace. Your tired eyes opened slowly to peer up at his slumbering face, taking in his soft features as his low breathing fanned across your face gently as he slept.

Your body felt incredibly sore, muscles stiff from the way you slept curled up into the beta but you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away just yet, enjoying the feeling of being close to him in this moment. As the events from the night before replayed in your mind you closed your eyes tightly, willing them to go away before you began tearing up again. Chan thinks he made a mistake letting you join their pack and the more you thought about it maybe he was right. Your behavior was reckless and you could have hurt them more than any ignorant photographer’s words could.

You allowed yourself this moment, lying in Seungmin’s arms as you watched him carefully, as you thought of how better off they could be if you weren’t there to cause anymore trouble or stress to their already hectic lives. A single tear slipped down your cheek and you moved as carefully as you could to wipe it away without waking the man in your bed but as hard as you tried, you failed. “Is my face without any makeup that unsettling that it’s making you cry?” He teased, eyes just opening as you swiped away the last traces of the tears from your face. Your eyes stung from all of the crying you had done the night previous and yet you rubbed at them a bit more despite the stinging to get any remains of sleep before sitting up slowly beside the beta.

His arms slowly slid from where they were wrapped around your waist as he too sat up before resting his head atop of your own, hands coming to play mindlessly with your fingers as his thoughts seemed to drift elsewhere. “I think I should go.” You said, your words dry as the almost caught in your throat from the weight behind them. You didn’t want to leave them, the thought alone sending you reeling and wishing to take it back the second the words left your lips but you truly thought that this is what they wanted, what was for the best.

“It’s still early, and we don’t have anything else planned for the day. Why don’t we just stay here a bit and rest?” Seungmin’s voice was soft, the calming scent of fresh linens enveloping you as he clearly didn’t understand what you were trying to say. It wasn’t his fault, you were struggling to fully express the meaning of your words so instead they came out more simple than they were. “No, Minnie….I fucked up- I acted impulsively, I- I beat the shit out of that reporter or whoever he was in front of so many people and that’s going to hurt you guys.” Realization started to dawn on him and his head whipped up to try and meet your gaze but you refused to look at him, eyes downturned on where his hands froze on your own in a tight grip that if it were for the numbness you felt at the situation you would have flinched from the pain in your still bruised knuckles.

The beta shook his head, slowly releasing his hold to cup your face in his warm and slightly clammy hands. “Bunny don’t say that- you can’t leave us. Not now- not over something so silly.” You frowned at that, eyes turning away from him though the hold he had on your face prevented you from fully moving away from him. “Don’t call my feelings silly, Seungmin.” Your words caused him to deflate immediately, still cupping your face in his hands though the hold was much gentler as he pleaded you with his eyes and a soft whimper to look at him. “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant- I mean Chan was silly, stupid even….idiotic to say those things to you after all you do for us. I don’t know what’s going on in his head, and I don’t mean to defend his actions or his careless words…but I know he didn’t mean them. Something else must be going on….” Seungmin felt his heartbeat racing, the desperation to persuade you to stay by his side burning like a fire in his heart only to be in conflict with the icy grip of his fear that it wouldn’t work and he would lose you forever.

“It isn’t the first time he’s said something like this Minnie. I don’t want to go, that’s the last thing I want but if he thinks I don’t belong- if this keeps happening where I can’t control my impulses and he can’t control his words then we are doomed.” The weight of the reality imbedded in your words hung heavy in the air, causing a silence to fall over the two of you only interrupted by the sounds of the busy streets just outside your hotel room window. “Just- stay with me today. Let me remind you how much you mean to us, please.” He begged, soft brown eyes looking at you like a puppy begging for a bone and who were you to not throw him one. “Fine, okay- I won’t decide just yet.”

Seungmin could have cried at the small relief your words filled him with, immediately pulling you into his embrace until your face was smushed against his chest and you were giggling from the intensity of his hold. “I agree to stay and you try to suffocate me? What is this-“ You said through your laughter, hugging him back just as tight despite your words.

You both stayed like that for a while, holding each other in silence as you listened to his heart beat and tried to commit it to memory should you end up deciding to go after all, the thought still lingering in the back of your mind as doubt hung like heavy rain clouds over the landscape that was your inner self.

Neither of you were sure how much time had past, too content in each others embrace to event think of glancing at the clock on the bedside table. Seungmin lets his eyes fall closed at some point though he was far from asleep. The sweet smell of citrus filled his senses and he was more than basking in it as his nose nuzzled against the top of your head lightly. How could his leader say it was a mistake to have you join their pack? He asked himself that over and over as he tried to find the reason for the alpha’s actions, to try and put himself in his shoes somehow. It wasn’t as if he never felt aggravated with your impulsive nature and tendency to jump into action aggressively without a second thought to the repercussions. Hell, it’s why he himself had been such an ass to you when you’d first arrived on their doorstep.

If anyone could understand Chan’s frustration it should be the beta, but with you wrapped up in his arms, warm breath fanning evenly against his clothed chest, all his past anger or annoyance for you couldn’t even be fathomed. Seungmin wanted to talk to Chan, to get to understand why he would bring up twice now that you were not a good fit for their pack even though from the way the alpha acts around you any other time and from talks he’s overheard their leader having with others regarding you, he knew that was far from the truth of his feelings. He knew there had to be more too it and it was eating him up inside. Still, as badly as he wanted to seek the older out to confront him about the situation from the night previous, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away from your warmth.

What must have been some hours later, a soft knocking sounded at your door causing a little groan to leave the beta’s lips as you pulled away to answer whoever was on the other side. “Minnie, I’ll be right back-“ you could hear him mumbling to himself about how you’d better as he pulled the comforter up and over his head, completely disappearing underneath the plush white duvet.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight, shaking your head in amusement as you stood on the tips of your toes to look through the peep hole at whoever it could be at the door.

To your surprise, and some relief, it was Felix and Jeongin. Without hesitation you swung the door open and looked out into the hall before greeting them. “Lix, innie! Whatcha doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you-“ the alphas laughed at your slightly flustered response, moving past you to enter the room. “Well we wanted to come check on you after last night, make sure you were okay.” Felix spoke up, taking hold of your hands once you closed the door behind them and pulled you closer to give you a look over. “You didn’t need to do that- everything is okay.” Your voice was soft, afraid to speak up too much for fear that the emotions would come bubbling out again.

The youngest hummed softly before wrapping his arms around you from behind, chin resting on the top of your head lightly. “No harm in coming to see you though, right? Maybe we could go get some lunch or order in and play games?” Felix nodded in agreement, his smile bright as he bounced lightly on his heels. “I can hook my switch up to the tv! I made sure to bring the extra controllers-“ At the sound of other voices in the room Seungmin had rose from his hiding spot and made his way into the small living era where the three of you were. “Let’s just order in? I don’t really feel like going out when we have filming all day tomorrow…”

Jeongin and Felix looked between each other, then you and Seungmin, before light smirks played on their lips. “Yeah, that sounds good.” You replied in agreement, giving the three of them a weak smile as you felt deep down you didn’t deserve the kindness or company they offered after the mistakes you seemed to keep making regarding their pack and career. “I’ll go get my switch! You guys know what I like, so just order for me-“ and with that Felix was bolting out the door and down the hall to his own room while the three of you laughed. “And you guys say I’m the puppy-“ Seungmin joked, pulling you away from the maknae and into his own arms once more causing Jeongin to whine.

After Felix returned and food was ordered, the three of you sat and watched with amusement as the blonde struggled to set up the game system to the hotel television. Strings of curses left his lips, his australian accent seemingly getting thicker the more frustrated he became. You were sat on the floor between Jeongin’s legs as the alpha played with your hair absentmindedly while watching his hyung struggling with his mission to connect the switch and tv. Seungmin left his spot on the couch briefly to retrieve the food that was ordered, setting the spread of various dishes on the coffee table in front of you as you found yourself getting lost in your thoughts.

Even though the moment was peaceful, domestic in nature, innocent even, you couldn’t help but repeat the incident from last night over and over. You thought of all you could have done differently, of what you should have done better to not have caused them all so much trouble. It was pointless, you knew that. There was no way to change the past but you still found yourself getting caught in a daydream of if things had happened differently. Subconsciously you began picking at the bandages on your knuckles, the careful work Seungmin had done unraveling slowly just as you felt your position as a member of the pack withering away before you, and no one was to blame but yourself and your actions.

As the beta turned to you, he noticed your bandages coming undone under your nervous picking at the edges and rushed to your side. “Bunny, stop that- you’re gonna cause them to start bleeding again.” He chastised lightly, pulling your hands to him as he carefully readjusting and failing to fix where the adhesive was now loosing its hold on your skin. “I’ll need to rewrap these, wait here-“ But before Seungmin could leave your hand tightened its grip around his wrist. “Minnie-“ Your voice came out more strained than you had intended, causing all three men to rush to your side in an instant. “Bunny, you can talk to us about it you know, you don’t have to bottle it up.” Jeongin spoke softly, his fingers still brushing through your hair and gently scratching at your scalp in a soothing manner.

The sincerity in his voice seemed to break you, tears you fought so hard to hold back spilling freely down your cheeks. “You don’t get it- you weren’t there last night. I seriously messed up, and now I’m not sure if it’s best for you guys that I stay…” The alphas both looked to each other while Seungmin cupped your face in his hands gently. “Bunny, look at me. I don’t have to have been there to know that you did what you felt was right in the moment. No one can fault you for that, even Chan.” You opened your mouth to protest, to explain how serious he seemed and how this wasn’t the first time your place in the pack had been brought into question by the leader, but the beta did not let you. “No. I don’t care what was said, he just needed to let out some steam. He will come to his senses eventually and will realize what he said was a mistake just like last time.”

Felix nodded in agreement, taking your hand into his own. “Trust us, we need you here with us.” You frowned, looking down at your lap as Jeongin spoke up this time, seemingly correcting the older alpha’s words. “We want you here even more, Bunny. What can we do to prove that?” You shook your head, shoulders shrugging slightly as you couldn’t bring yourself to meet any of their eyes. “It wasn’t just Chan….no one else said anything- they all probably agree with him. Like I said- you guys weren’t there…you may even think differently if you had been there to hear what happened.” Seungmin scoffed lightly, shaking his head. “You think we don’t know what happened? Trust me, we know. And we don’t care. You’re better than me cause had the situation been reversed I wouldn’t have left him breathing.”

The beta’s words caused you to giggle, head shaking once more as you cupped his cheek in your palm gently while meeting his gaze with your own. “Minnie, you wouldn’t have. You’ve always been the more gentle out of us. Hell- it’s why you resented me for years.” He couldn’t deny your words, though he wanted to. He knew it was all just wishful thinking and if he had been in your place he would have probably walked away with his metaphorical tail tucked between his legs. “Okay- maybe I wouldn’t have. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have beat the ever loving shit out of him like you did. He deserved it.”

You sighed, pulling away from the group as you slowly stood. “It’s not a good look for you, though. I should have composed myself and handled things better. Chan is right, my actions reflect on you so heavily and you have an image to protect. I wasn’t thinking and acted carelessly. I seem to keep doing that…” The four of you sat in silence for a while after that, before Jeongin spoke up once more. “Everyone makes mistakes…you didn’t exactly have the media training we did before getting thrown into this position. So- sure you’ve had some hiccups. That doesn’t mean you should leave, and that you can’t learn from them-“ his words seemed to warm you slightly, causing you to sit at his side and pull the youngest into a soft embrace. “Thank you, innie…I guess you’re right-“ Felix sat at your other side, Seungmin still on the floor in front of you. “Besides- why should the hyungs be the only ones to get a say? We are all part of this pack, and we don’t want you to go.” The youngest said with a slight pout as he nuzzled into your hair to let your sweet citrusy scent wash over him. “You’re right.”

After a moment, Felix spoke up. “I think you should talk to them. We can tell you how we feel all we want but I think you need to hear from everyone there how they feel.” You looked towards the freckled man with a little uncertainty, doubt still hanging heavy in your mind as to where you stood with the other members. “I don’t know, Lix…what if they just confirm what I’ve already been thinking? That they agree with Chan and they don’t want me here anymore…” three heads shook in unison as suddenly you were pulled into a massive group hug between the three of them. “If they do then we’ll fight them!” Jeongin said with a huff, causing Felix and Seungmin to mumble words in agreement with the maknae. You sighed, decided to let the matter rest for the time being as you tried to enjoy the rest of the afternoon with the three youngest playing games and watching Seungmin and Felix attempt to cheat, much to yours and Jeongin’s chagrin as they failed miserably at doing so.

After the food was eaten and the games long forgotten in favor of a Jurassic Park movie marathon, you sat snuggled up between Vocalracha with Felix on the floor in front of you. Your hands gently carded through the blonde’s hair as your attention floated elsewhere than the movie playing on the screen. If you were to go to the older members about last night, who would be the safest bet? Chan was out of the question, your heart still aching as his words continued to infect your thoughts and poison your emotions. Hyunjin said he was going out for the day the last time you had spoke so he was a no go, and you figured Han and Changbin would be with Chan trying to cram in some production time into their busy schedules. That only left one viable option, and the reality of who it was left you with a pit in your stomach.

The sun was slowly beginning to set, the city nightlife roaring out on the streets below as Jeongin let out a soft yawn to your left. “I think we should call it a night- we have an early day tomorrow.” You said softly as you stood from your spot on the couch, carefully stepping around the alpha sat on the floor. “We?” Seungmin said with hope laced in his expression. “Until I am told otherwise indefinitely, I’m still your assistant- so yes…we.” The three members couldn’t hide the smiles they wore at your words, slowly rising as well and stretching out their stiff limbs. “I guess we’ll see you in the morning then?” Felix questioned, eyebrow raised and he brought you into his arms. “Mhm, I’ll wake you up like normal. Coffee?” The freckled dancer nodded and placed a soft kiss to the top of your head before letting you go to collect his gaming equipment.

Once again you were left alone with the beta as both Jeongin and Felix bid you a goodnight and returned back to their respective rooms. “So, cuddles?” He gave you a soft smile, hand reaching out to intertwine your fingers together before using them to pull you closer and nuzzle up into your side affectionately. “Actually I’ll have to take a raincheck…I think Felix was right.” You didn’t elaborate further, but there was no need as Seungmin simply nodded slowly before pulling back slightly. “Oh- do you want me to go with you or wait here?” You smiled, shaking your head at his kind offer. “No, puppy. Go sleep in your own room tonight I’ll be fine. I’ll wake you up first though if you’d like and you can go with me to get coffees for everyone?” The small pout that had found its way to his face at being told to sleep alone was replaced with a bright smile at the mention of more time just the two of you. “I’ll hold you to that. Please do.” Nodding, you gave him a soft peck on his cheek before heading for the door. “Goodnight Minnie.” As you left you heard him whisper a goodnight as well as he stood a little stunned by the kiss you left him with.

Slowly, you made your way down the hall and to the second oldest’s room. Your heart felt like it was being crushed in a vice grip and the closer you got it was as if you were forgetting how to breathe. All of the fears you held rushing to the forefront of your mind as you tried to think of what to say when you arrived at his door, should he even wish to speak to you. Your feet stopped right outside his door, though your body struggled to make any further moves at alerting the alpha to your presence. What if he scoffed in your face and told you to get lost? What if he was disgusted with how barbaric you had been, how violent you were towards the reporter. What if he was as angry as Chan, telling you that you didn’t belong and he didn’t want you there? All these thoughts and what ifs were playing on repeat as somehow you managed to lift your shaking hand and give a few quick knocks to the door.

“Coming!” You heard his voice call from inside, the door swinging open not long after to reveal Minho dressed in his normal sleepwear with his hair still obviously damn from the shower he must have taken not too long before your arrival. “Bunny-“ before he could say anything more your words began spilling from your mouth like a fire hydrant that had been run over, chaotic and all over the place. “I know you probably don’t really want to see me right now, and honestly I wouldn’t blame you- what I did was awful and I wasn’t thinking and it was so so wrong of me. I just needed to come and apologize to you, I put you in such a bad position- all of you but especially you. Minho I- I understand if you want me to leave you alone, hell if you never want to see me again- but I just had to tell you how sorry I am and if you want me to leave I-“

Before another word could leave your lips the alpha was suddenly smashing his own against them. Both of his hands cupped your face as if you would suddenly disappear, the feeling of his lips against yours was soft but firm as so many emotions were poured into this single gesture. Soon you felt something wet hit your cheeks and it wasn’t until he pulled back to rest his forehead against your own that you realized he was crying. “M-Min?” You stuttered, still a bit dazed from his kiss. “I should be the one apologizing. You- you did what I didn’t have the balls to do. You stood up to that guy and defended me when I should have been the one to defend you.” You opened your mouth to argue but he cut you off before you got the chance. “And I don’t mean that in some stupid alpha dominance way I mean that he wasn’t just insulting me and I couldn’t stand to hear what he was saying about you but I was so caught up with my own public image I didn’t do what I should have done, what you did.”

You blinked up at him, letting his words sink in before crashing your lips back together. Minho accepted the kiss instantly, one arm coming to wrap around your waist as he quickly pulled you back with him into the room and shutting the door behind you only to press you up against the cold surface lightly. Your lips began moving together in almost perfect synchronization, your hands moving to tangle in the hair at the back of his hair causing a slight chill to rush through your body from the dampness that still lingered. In between the kiss Minho began to plead with you, hands now resting gently at your waist though the way he fisted the material of your shirt showed his true desperation.

“Please” kiss “don’t go” kiss “stay” kiss “stay with me” kiss “please”

You couldn’t help but nod as your fingers slipped from his hair to lace together behind his neck as your arms rested against his shoulders. You pulled away hesitantly to look up into his soft brown eyes as the scent of warm caramel filled the room and threatened to intoxicate you. “I’m not going anywhere, I’ll stay.” The alpha could have purred at that moment, leaning down to nuzzle his face into your neck and inhale the sweet smell of of citrus causing you to giggle as his breath tickled lightly. “Stay with me tonight, I mean- please? Just- please don’t go.” You bit your kiss swollen lips, head tilting to the side to allow him to scent you easier to which the alpha let out a small whimpering sound before indulging himself. “I’ll stay, but- I already promised Minnie he could go with me in the morning to get coffee for everyone before the shoot. Just us.”

Minho held back a groan at the thought of you leaving even though it wouldn’t be until morning. “Okay…as long as you’re mine for tonight.” His. The thought caused your chest to feel light and all the worries and what ifs from before fade into obscurity as you melted against him. You tried to tell yourself he didn’t mean it like that, that there was no deeper meaning behind his words despite the passionate kissed you just shared full of what you could only describe as longing. “I’m all yours, Min. But- it’s been a long and emotional day…I’m exhausted.” Without another word you were off your feet, a slight yelp leaving your lips as you held on tightly while the alpha carried you bridal style into the bedroom and laid you gently on the soft duvet and pillows. “Let me finish up the last minute stuff I need to be ready for tomorrow and I’ll join you. For now, try and get some rest.” He placed one last gently kiss to your lips, then your forehead before disappearing into the bathroom.

You helped yourself to snuggling down under the sheets of his bed, indulging yourself in his scent that lingered there from your stay at the hotel thus far and let it soothe you into a peaceful slumber. You didn’t need to worry about what those kisses meant, what he meant, and more importantly what you were going to do in regard to Chan and his harsh words from the night before. All that could be dealt with later, for now you would allow yourself this comfort and to feel at peace even if you knew that you would have to confront these things eventually, maybe even sooner than you would like to. For tonight you were Minho’s and you could allow him to give you that sense of calm even with a storm brewing just outside.

author’s note; waaahhh so I originally planned for there to be scenes with Channie in this chapter but I got to such a nice end here that I decided to save those for the next chapter- pls forgive me I know after the mood board for this chapter came out you were all ready to see that man begging for forgiveness (it will come just wait a lil longer~) anyways hope you all enjoyed this chapter and as always I look forward to reading your feedback/reactions~~ ᕱᕱ₊˚⊹♡

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[storm-angel989]

Hello!! This is my first time requesting something so sorry if it doesn’t make sense.

Can you do Alastair having a child (about 4-5) that’s just like him, and the vee’s find out about her?

Hi friend,

First of all, I am so glad you sent me in a request! I love this idea, but think OTO Valentino’s daughter/wife. (I know they don’t have a kiddo yet in the story but I promise you they will). 

Enjoy!

<3 Mandy

The birthday party invitation came home in her backpack two weeks into preschool. 

Baby pink, pastel green forest scene and a light brown deer under the the announcement “Our Little Deer is turning FOUR!” with a date and two hour time block scrawled underneath in a neat cursive font. On the back was information to RSVP- a number to text yes or no, the requirement that a parent or guardian be present, and a request for the child's name. Pleased his daughter seemed to be making friends, Valentino thought nothing of it and handed it off to his assistant with instructions to RSVP yes and to choose a present age appropriate for a coming four year old girl. 

“Wrapped in pink and with a card,” he told his assistant firmly. “I want to make a good first impression.”

“First impressions for what?” Vox’s voice came from behind him. In one motion he snatched the invitation out of the assistant's hand and scanned it over. “The fuck is this?”

Valentino turned around and crossed his arms. “Our ninita got her first birthday invitation. She’s going.”

“Did you even look at the date?” Vox snapped as he handed the assistant back the card. “Who the fuck do you think is going to take her? It won’t be you, her mother or even Velvette for that matter. None of you will be here that weekend and I made plans for us already.”

Valentino rolled his eyes. “Squeeze this into your plans then. It’s important we make a good first impression, and I’m sure she’s excited to go.” 

Vox grunted and turned away, “fine. But only because she’s excited. I couldn’t give less of a fuck about any other kid in hell.” 

Valentino smirked, “I’m well aware V. Have fun.”

Vox rolled his eyes as he walked out the door. He could think of a thousand different things that would be more fun than being surrounded by screaming hell children- several of which he already had planned. But when the party was brought up at the dinner table and he saw just how excited his niece was, he relented. After all, she was the most important thing in his life. 

Saturday rolled around faster than anticipated, and all too soon Vox found himself tugging a bright pink princess dress over the top of his nieces head. 

“I’ve never been to a party before,” she told him excitedly as he lifted her up and carried her to the limo. 

“I know,” he replied as he set her down on her booster seat next to the oversized, glitter pink wrapped gift. With caution, so as to not ruffle the frills in her dress, he leaned over and belted her in. “Aunt Velvette read you the story about birthday parties last night, right?”

“Yeah! There’s going to be cake, and games and presents for the birthday girl!”

Vox let out a smile and kissed her on the top of her head before closing the door. Her enthusiasm for the event almost made what he was sure would be two hours of hell tolerable. 

Well, almost. 

“Don’t forget to bring in the present,” Vox told the limo driver as he pulled to a stop. Vox turned to open the door and paused. No. It couldn’t be. 

“This is the wrong address,” Vox said sharply.

 His niece scrambled to unbuckle herself and pressed her nose against the window. 

“No it isn’t! Look, there she is! She lives at the Hazbin Hotel, Uncle Vox!” 

Before Vox could move to stop her, she pressed open the door handle and took off towards the hotel. 

“Jesus fuck,” Vox snarled as he took off after her. “Reader, wait!” He took the steps two at a time, wrapped his arms around his niece and lifted her up, ignoring her protests. 

“Ah, welcome!” the familiar voice floated through the entryway. 

Shit. Vox looked up into Alastors eyes and gritted his teeth. Amusement danced across his smug face. Vox felt the electricity crackle and his niece yelped. Quickly, he set her down and watched her take off across the foyer. 

“Now now Vox, let the girls play nicely, hm? I’m sure we can do the same for a few hours,” Alastor said and he opened his arms. “I know when my daughter asked if your niece could come, I was hesitant, but it’s for the kids…right? War will resume promptly at four. Until then, come on in!” He turned and walked across the lobby.  

Vox gritted his teeth, but seeing no other choice, followed him inside. He looked around at the overtly decorated hotel lobby, the happy birthday banner followed by a plethora of pink and green balloons. If he didn’t know better, he would think it truly was a child’s birthday party. 

“Uncle Vox! Look! Party hats!” Reader yelled as she ran up to him. “Look, I got one for you!” 

“Oh, hey, great,” he said flatly as he took the hat from her hand. 

“Uncle Vox, you have to put it on your head. Everyone has one,” she told him, hands on her hips. 

Vox looked around. He recognized Charlie and Vaggie standing next to Angel Dust of all the fucking sinners, Husker behind what he assumed was a bar when it wasn’t being used as a snack station, and Alastor, blowing up balloons for a swarm of small childeren. All wearing party hats. 

“Fine,” he muttered as he snapped the elastic under his screen. “Go play, but stay where I can see you, got it?” 

“Okay Uncle Vox!” She said cheerfully. 

Vox crossed his arms and shifted his weight to the left as he surveyed the scene carefully. To their credit, no one approached him, save Charlie. Once. Several short answers later, she wandered back to the party. He watched protectively as they played games, opened presents, laughed and shouted. One cake lighting and round of happy birthday later, his niece was handed a small plastic goody bag and her hand was in his. 

“Com’ere,” Vox muttered to his niece as he lifted her up. “You have frosting on your face.”

“Uncle Vox,” she whined as he wiped at the smudge on her cheek. “I wanna play more!”

“No,” Vox said shortly as he carried her towards the door. “Party is over.”

“It seems our daughters don’t hold the same hatred we do,” Alastors voice came from behind. 

Vox paused and turned around, face to face with the demon he considered to be his archnemesis. “Your point being?”

“Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad if we let them play together another time!” Alastor said cheerfully. 

“Yeah!” Reader cheered. 

“You, hush,” he said to reader firmly. “Alastor, that isn’t up to me. Get a hold of her father, see what he says.” With that he continued to walk out the door. 

“Will do, old chum,” Alastor said from behind. “Will do.”

“Uncle Vox, why are you so mean to Mr. Alastor?” Reader asked as Vox buckled her back into her seat. 

Vox sighed and smoothed back her hair. “It’s a long story honey. Too long for right now. But hey, why don’t we go home, get you changed and we can go see Vark?”

That seemed to cheer her up. As she opened her goody bag, Vox busied himself texting Valentino and Velvette. They needed a plan, and soon. Maybe a change of schools. But hell would freeze over before Vox allowed his niece anywhere near Alastor unsupervised.

[qiwoomi]

i. unspoken nature

series masterlist main masterlist next

"Let's get married."

The man you barely know suggested. It was a polite request. You knew that you were in the position to decline.

But your logical thought says otherwise. Just accept it. Say yes. It said.

You were no fool. It is obvious that he just wants to marry you out of benefit. But still, you wonder why is it not his family who approached you. Usually, arranged marriages are handled by the family of the groom or bride to be.

Wasting no more time to think, you simply agreed.

It was just a marriage after all. Plus, you have little to no love life anyway. The man is unapproachable, he isn't the type to harm anyone. You're sure because you've known him ever since you entered high school.

Nevertheless, it won't hurt to also use him as some sort of shield from your unstable family. You just had to act like a true loving couple. Easy peasy. (Or so you thought.)

Present day

Seated across of you is his relatives.

"Haitham, it's been almost two years that you guys are married, have you never thought about you know... having kids?" His aunt asked.

It was awkward as you just munch on your food silently. You've only seen his relatives for a few times, and there's very little exchange of conversation from you.

"Y/n is still young. There's no rush in having kids." He replied. Encircling his arms around your waist.

"Pfft. You know Y/N, young women these days are too afraid of having kids. Are you?"

"I've never really thought of it yet. Perhaps I'm just too focused on studying." You avoided her accusation, it was already a pressure to think of a new answer every time your husband's side of the family ask both of you about this. You don't want to stir up any possible arguments.

"Oh? I'm sure Haitham is financially stable enough to provide for a family. Don't you think?"

You just smiled, not wanting to further the conversation. Pretending to agree. You finished your food before excusing yourself outside of the venue.

Walking towards the cobblestone path that catches your attention, you immediately sit on a swing that were adorned with flowery ropes. You simply want to take a breather, admiring the flower field.

You gazed at the sky, the sun setting as the moon starts being more visible. The sky is painted with a mix of orange and dark blue. The peaceful ambience around the garden drifted your thoughts.

To say that you were happy ever since your marriage is a lie. It is just a mask for everyone outside of your relationship. Pretending like a couple that everyone wants to be. When it's all just a relationship purely built out of convenience. Though it's no use regretting it now, you never think twice about his offer anyway.

"Y/n. I've been searching for you." Your husband interrupted your thoughts, as you halted the swaying swing with your feet as you stood up from the seat. He approached you. "Let's go. It's already time for us to come home." He offered his hand to navigate you out of the garden.

As both of you were walking to the parking lot, he broke the silence. "I told you to stay by my side. My family would've thought we were fighting." He stated, stopping in his tracks. You just muttered an apology, not in the mood to reason with him.

Unnoticed by you, his aunt was observing you both from distance. Haitham however, noticed this. Hence why he suddenly lift your chin up, going in for a kiss. As you wrap your hands around his neck.

It isn't genuine. But it is genuine enough in the eyes of them, enough to keep them thinking that your marriage is real.

He takes your hands in his, leaving a peck on one of them.

Seeing that his aunt is convinced enough and finally entered her car, so do you both.

You were lying on your bed, the scenario earlier playing in your head.

For the past few weeks, hell not even week but it has been a year. Alhaitham never really tries to form a conversation with you, despite living under the same roof.

You're not really complaining, but you have been feeling lonely.

After you both are married, Alhaitham had stated a few rules after both of you moved in to your shared apartment.

You both sleep separately. He even told you to not disturb him in the morning, especially waking him up. You are not expected to cook for him, take care of him, or anything that a married couple would do.

To be specific, you both just live as housemates. Nothing more than that.

He would sometimes initiate conversation with you, but it's mostly for important things like your student fee, grocery needs and such. You are also barely talking to him first either.

It sometimes did make you feel sad. Pathetic even. You didn't even know how could you last that long living with someone, as if living with a wall. Though it did make you feel inferior to some of your friends or family with a healthy relationship. You were craving for it too. But as time goes by, you became used to it.

At least he still respected your boundaries. It's the least thing he could do.

Somehow, you didn't even know how did you end up suddenly thinking of a divorce. The pen and papers are already within your hands, racking your brain on trying to think of words, reasons. Rational reasons. Logical reasons.

Maybe you should just say it in his face? But what if he rejected it instead. What if you stuttered. You don't want to make a fool out of yourself.

Stretching your arms, you started writing whatever it is that comes in your head. It might even be a vent essay at this point. But as long as it's convincing, then it's fine.

After about an hour, you finally finished. Folding the paper neatly, you are already thinking of ways on how to deliver it to him.

You were too nervous to hand it to him yourself, which is why you settle on placing it on the coffee table in your living room. Hoping that he will notice it when he comes home late at night.

The sun shines through the curtains by the window, waking you up from your slumber. You opted to continue your sleep, until a vibrating sound can be heard by your bedside table. You sighed. Last night's thought keeping you up, that is until you past out at approximately 2AM.

You turned off the alarm, immediately getting up to wash up and get ready for school. After making your bed, you checked yourself in the mirror for the last time before going out of your room, holding your backpack to put it near the door of the apartment. Heading to the kitchen, you make your usual breakfast and a tea as you put them on the table, sitting down and start eating your food.

You suddenly feel an unsettling aura, it's as if someone is staring daggers behind you. You finished eating as you wash the dishes, putting them back on the usual place. True to your words, your husband has been waiting to talk to you.

You were about to head out for school until he called you. "You want a divorce..?" He bluntly asked, still sitting on the couch with a book in his right hand. You were about to reply however he suddenly added. "Forget it. Let's talk about it after you came back." He resumes reading his book again, as if he didn't just ask a serious question. You don't need to ask him for you to know that he had a day off. With that, you simply nod your head and walk out of the house.

author's note: taglist is open!!

© @qiwoomi

est. 010323

do not copy, translate and repost my work.

[noirsfantasy]

On the twelfth day of Christmas...

𝔄 𝔇𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔗𝔬 ℜ𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔭𝔱. 5

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 ➛ Actor!Michael B Jordan x OC!Naomi Samuels

𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 ➛ Fluff

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱 ➛ 7.5k

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 ➛ Christmas day turns out to be more eventful than Naomi had hoped for, but it wasn't all bad. Christmas may not have been the magical day everyone wanted, but maybe it was what everyone needed.

𝔞/𝔫 ➛ Y'all, I'm SOOO SORRYYYYY!!! I feel so bad for making y'all wait this long. I've really enjoyed writing this whole series and the other oneshots as well. I won't go into why this took so long, I know y'all wanna see how it ends. So, without further delay, here is the finale! Enjoy!

12 Days of Christmas Masterlist

Christmas morning dawns with a hushed excitement. I feel a warm, gentle glow on my skin as I stir in my sleep. I wake up for the last time in my childhood room. It's a bit chilly as I slip out of bed, tiptoeing to the window and looking out over the snow-covered landscape. The world seems to sparkle in the early morning light and a sense of calm settles within me. The events of the previous days replay in my mind - the shared laughter, reconstructing bonds, and the budding connection between Michael and me.

I yawn and stretch sleepily, but before I can fully embrace the day, my door bursts open. The twins tumble into the room like a whirlwind of excitement.

"Auntie Mimi, Auntie Mimi! It's Christmas!" They shout in unison, their eyes sparkling in pure joy. They rush over to me, bouncing up and down with an infectious energy.

"Y'all are up early!" I groan sleepily as they tug on my arms.

"Come on, Auntie!" Matthew urges as they pull me towards the door.

"Santa left us more gifts!" Mason adds and I allow myself to be pulled into the festive chaos.

We get downstairs and I see James and Teresa sitting on the couch, drinking steaming cups of coffee. I chuckle at the sight.

"I guess they went to see you guys before they came to me." I observe and Teresa gives me a sleepy smile.

"I just wanted five more minutes but they wanted to open their presents now." She says with a sigh.

"And then they decided they wanted everyone else awake to open them as well." James adds, seeming to remind the boys of their mission and they run back up the stairs to get everyone else.

I take a seat on the couch and slide my feet between the cushions to keep them warm. James hands me my own cup of coffee and I thank him, taking a sip that warms me to my core. The stairs creak as my mom comes down, then my aunts, Ashanti, and, finally, Michael. As he emerges from the guest room, I note that he looks slightly disheveled, yet undeniably charming.

"Morning," He greets, his voice a bit groggy as he sits next to me, a warm smile playing on his lips.

"Morning," I reply, the vibrant energy of the morning slowly dispelling the remnants of sleep. I continue to sip my coffee, finding myself blushing from his close presence. Michael puts his arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer to him.

"Sorry, you looked pretty cold and I've been told I make good heater." He smirks teasingly and I roll my eyes at him, scooting closer until our legs are touching. "Now that's more like it.

The family gathers in the living room and, finally, the unwrapping of gifts can commence. Mason fishes through the mountains of gifts and pulls out a medium sized box. It says "From Granny Pat."

"Can I open it?!" He asks excitedly. Aunt Pat gives him a nod and he tears it open to find a Jurassic Park Lego set.

"YES! I've been wanting this forever!" he screams as he jumps up from his seat, running to tell his brother. Then Matthew opens on of his gifts. It's a large toy robot. He's in awe of it, excited to try it out. After that, the rest of the family begin to unwrap theirs, one by one.

As the unwrapping frenzy continues, Teresa’s eyes widen in surprise as James hands her a neatly wrapped gift. She carefully opens it, revealing the same pair of ugly Christmas leggings she had admired at the store yesterday. Her face lights up with delight, and she looks at James in disbelief.

“These are amazing! How did you…?” she begins, her voice filled with awe.

Ashanti smiles proudly, leaning over to whisper in my ear, “I sent him a picture when I saw how much she loved them. He insisted on going back to get them.”

Teresa is so touched by James' thoughtful gift that she practically leaps into his arms, showering him with kisses and affection. He returns her affection, smiling back at her and wrapping his arms around her.

Michael is watching the two of them with a grin on his face, he seems amused by the whole thing.

Next, Ashanti receives a flashy gift from her mother, despite their recent arguments. The air is tense between them and Aunt Tina doesn’t even look to see Ashanti’s reaction to the gift.

The atmosphere is full of awkward tension, but Ashanti does not seem to care. She smiles warmly and thanks her mother for the gift, which is a designer wallet.

I smile as I pick up a gift that I wrapped carefully and hand it to Michael, eager for him to open it.

He takes the gift from me, and he can tell how excited I am to see his reaction.

He tears the paper away to reveal a painted canvas, a portrait of him, capturing every aspect of his face, from his perfect smile to his warm eyes. As he pulls the painting from its wrapping, his expression shifts from curiosity to astonishment. His eyes widen in disbelief as he takes in the image before him, his lips parting in silent awe. For a moment, he is speechless, his gaze fixed on the portrait with a mixture of wonder and gratitude.

"Is this..." He starts and begins to beam. "Is this yours?" He asks finally, his eyes still fixed on the portrait. I smile and nod.

“I told you I’d make one for you. Here it is.” I say, my smile widening.

"It's amazing," He says, his voice still strained as he continues to stare at the painting. We've had a lot of touching moments these past few days, but nothing quite like this. This gesture feels like a genuine act of love, one that takes a lot of heart and dedication. It's just one more thing that makes it difficult for me to keep denying my feelings for him.

He pulls me into a hug and I bask in the feeling of his strong arms around me. It never gets old. I smile warmly as we separate and Ashanti sighs heavily, interrupting our moment.

“Okay, we get it, y’all are in love!” She fake gags and we roll our eyes at her. “Here, Naomi, open this one.” She plops a small gift in my lap and looks at me expectantly. I look at her in confusion as I open it, my heart skipping a beat as I see what’s inside. It’s the notebook Ashanti and I used to color in when we were little, filled with doodles and memories from our childhood.

"I can't believe you still have this..." I look at her in pure shock, my eyes wide. Ashanti smiles sweetly at me, not only having kept it, but having taken the time to give it to me today. This notebook means the world to me and it feels like Ashanti knows my heart. I hug her, almost in tears from its sentimental value.

She smiles softly, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “It’s a reminder of the bond we share, no matter where life takes us.” This moment hits me just right. I have so much to be grateful for today, and this gift is just another example of all the love that I have in my life.

As we pull apart, I can see that my other family members have noticed the touching scene.

"We get it," Teresa yells teasingly, "can we continue on with the gifts now?" Ashanti sticks her tongue at her and I laugh as we move on.

As the gift opening continues on, the children get more toys and the atmosphere is filled with joy. Finally, Michael hands me his last gift from under the tree. I open the small envelope with unsure hands, my heart racing with anticipation. Inside, I find a boarding pass for first class to Los Angeles, set for December 26, tomorrow.

I look at him in shock, my breath catching in my throat. He meets my gaze with a soft smile, his eyes filled with sincerity.

"I thought we'd start the new year together," he says softly. My breath stops and my heart skip a beat. This is big. It's not something casual. This is a statement of intention and I know it. My family notices it, as well. They're all wide-eyed, waiting to see how I respond.

"Is this...are you asking me to go back with you... to Los Angeles?" I ask him, barely able to speak with what this gift actually represents.

"Yes," he says softly, taking my hand. "I want you to come home me, just until New Years. You know, just to get to know you better and see where we go from here... outside of this place. And I do believe there's something pretty amazing between us that's worth exploring. So... are you coming?" A rush of happiness washes over me, and I throw my arms around him, accepting the gift with overflowing joy.

“Of course, I’ll go to LA with you!” I squeal, my excitement overflowing. He wraps his arms around me as well and my mother claps her hands excitedly.

“Now THAT is a Christmas present!” She exclaims and Teresa chimes in.

“Mmhm, you’re telling me. I sure would love to go to LA.” She casts a glance at James, who laughs and shakes his head.

“Thanks, Mike, now I gotta one up you.” He says jokingly and Teresa swats his arm playfully. There are smiles all around us and my family all seem relieved that I've agreed so quickly. Michael laughs along and leans back in his seat, subtly taking my hand in his as the excitement dies down.

He moves to closer whisper in my ear, "Let's finish opening these gifts and then we'll talk more about LA tonight." I nod in agreement and the celebration of opening the gifts continues until every single gift has been opened. Then, we all settle in to enjoy the remainder of this holiday. My family members start to disperse and leave the room, going off to watch TV, relax, or take a nap. Danny, Ashanti, Teresa, James, Michael and I find ourselves taking a walk outside in the snow.

We're bundled up in jackets and hats, our breath fogging in the cold winter air. Michael and I have fallen far behind the rest of our group. The snow falls gently, covering everything in a thick blanket of white. As we walk along the sidewalk, my fingers wrap around his bicep, taking comfort in his strong presence. We're almost completely silent, both of us enjoying the quiet as the light snow falls. it feels calm and peaceful, like time has stood still. The only sound that's breaking the silence is the crunch of snow as we walk along.

I steal glances at Michael, admiring the way the winter sun highlights the rich tones of his skin, casting a warm glow over his features. He looks over at me, the corners of his mouth turning upward.

"This is nice," He finally says softly. We both enjoy the winter air and take in the snow-covered landscape that spreads out before us. The sun warms my skin as we continue to walk and my finger traces circles in his bicep every few steps.

"Yeah, it's such a beautiful day out. This is a nice way to spend Christmas day." I reply, leaning my head on his shoulder. Michael chuckles lightly, smirking a bit as he glances at me.

"I was talking about being here with you." He corrects me, a dimpled grin spreading across his face. I blush as his words catch me off guard and I let go of his arm. "But it does look nice out today. I just prefer to look at you." He reaches out to grab my hand, bringing me in closer. I let out a laugh as he raises an eyebrow at me.

"You thought that was really smooth, huh?" I ask and he rolls his eyes at me.

Michael lets out a chuckle, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Smooth as butter," he replies with a playful grin. "But hey, can you blame a guy for trying?" I shake my head, laughing softly.

"I suppose not," I admit and we share a laugh, the sound echoing softly in the crisp winter air. It's moments like these, filled with easy banter and genuine laughter, that make me feel grateful for the connection we've formed over the past few days.

As Michael and I walk, engrossed in our conversation, I suddenly realize that the sound of footsteps ahead of us has disappeared. I glance up, only to see Teresa, James, and Ashanti emerge from behind a snow-covered bush, armed with handfuls of snowballs.

Before we can react, snowballs start flying in our direction. I yelp and we brace ourselves for the incoming attack. We're bombarded with snow from all sides, leaving us standing there in shock, covered in a layer of white.

Michael and I exchange a bewildered glance, silence in the air as my brother and cousins laugh at us. Then, without missing a beat, Michael scoops up a handful of snow and tosses it playfully above us. As the snow falls directly on my hat, I can’t help but look at him with a mixture of surprise and amusement.

“Really?” I say with a sarcastic eye roll, shaking my head at his antics.

“Oh, yeah.” He says with a mischievous grin. Michael can't help but break out into a hysterical laugh. "You should see your face," he teases, which makes my expression turn from surprise to annoyance. We both laugh as I reach over and scoop up a snowball, preparing myself to launch it at him.

Before I know it, we’re all engaged in a full-blown snowball fight, laughter ringing out into the winter air as we duck and dodge each other’s icy projectiles.

The snow keeps flying and our breaths fog up the cold winter air. My family and I have always been very competitive, so the snowball fight quickly escalates into a full-blown, no-holds-barred battle. We're all laughing, running, slipping and sliding in the snow, throwing snowballs as fast as we can and ducking to avoid being hit.

In the midst of our snowball fight, Michael reaches out and picks me up, using me as a shield as all the snowballs fire in our direction. I scream as I’m lifted off the ground and hit with one snowball after another.

“Put me down! You’re cheating!” I shout as I laugh loudly.

"You’re just mad you didn’t think of it first!" He laughs, holding me closer to his body, and I have to admit that I do feel safe in his strong arms, even in the middle of a snowball fight.

I struggle against his grip as I’m covered in snow until we both lose balance. We tumble backward into a pile of fresh white fluff, the cold seeping through our jackets, but neither of us cares. Wrapped up in each other’s warmth, we lie there, breathless and giggling like a pair of children.

As we lay there laughing, breathing heavily in between giggles, it feels like the whole world has stopped. The snow continues to fall and the sound of the others laughing and throwing snowballs is a distant echo in the distance. It's just us here in this beautiful winter wonderland. Our eyes meet and we exchange a look of mutual understanding and tenderness as we bask in the moment.

We both sit up as we hear Teresa yelling as she runs towards us. Before we can move, she jumps on top of us, giggling.

“Ugh! Teresa! You’re heavy!” I groan with a laugh as she sprawls out across us.

“Ahhh this is nice!” She says as she ignores my complaints. To my displeasure, James comes and jumps on top of us as well. Michael and I groan at the added weight. They’re both laughing uncontrollably.

“I can’t breathe!” Michael grunts and chuckles as we try and push them off. As if that wasn’t enough, Ashanti and Danny join in the fun, piling on top of us in a heap of laughter and snow-covered limbs. The weight of our combined bodies presses us deeper into the snow, the cold seeping through our clothes, but none of us worry about that as we dissolve into fits of laughter.

“Hey, watch it!” Michael exclaims, his voice muffled by the snow and laughter.

“Sorry, couldn’t resist!” Ashanti giggles, her breath coming out in puffs of white in the chilly air.

“I think we broke Naomi,” Danny jokes, his laughter contagious.

I manage to gasp between giggles, “You guys are ridiculous!” But my protests only elicit more laughter from the others, who seem determined to prolong the moment for as long as possible.

Eventually, though, our laughter subsides, and we lie there in the snow, breathless and content, our hearts full of joy and our spirits light.

As we finally untangle ourselves from the snowy dog pile, we exchange playful swats and teasing remarks. I shiver as Michael helps me stand up.

“God, I’m so cold!” I exclaim and Ashanti nods.

“Yeah, I’m not so sure jumping in the snow was the best idea now.” She admits with her teeth chattering and I raise an eyebrow.

“You think?” I reply.

"Well, it was a good idea at the time," James responds, his words causing everyone to laugh. As the laughter settles, we all start to feel the cold really sink in and we realize how damp and wet we really are.

"I guess it maybe wasn't the best decision," Ashanti admits.

“Yeah, I think we need some hot cocoa after that,” Teresa adds, her cheeks flushed from the cold and laughter.

“How about we change first?” Danny suggests, shaking his head.

“Definitely.” I agree.

“Sounds like a plan,” Michael adds, rubbing his hands together, trying to warm them up in the frigid conditions. The others agree and we make our way inside to get changed.

As we trudge back to the house, our clothes damp and clinging to our skin, we're greeted by the warm glow of the lights shining through the windows. Grandmother is standing by the door, her hands on her hips and a playful twinkle in her eye.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" she says with a chuckle, taking in our snow-covered appearance. "Looks like we've got ourselves a bunch of walking icicles!"

We all exchange sheepish glances, realizing just how wet and cold we must look. But Grandmother just laughs and ushers us inside.

"Come on in, you lot," she says, her voice warm and welcoming. "I'll get a fire going and some hot chocolate brewing. You'll warm up in no time." As we all follow her inside, discarding our boots at the door, we all head to our rooms to get out of our clothes. It feels just like when we were kids, always outside, having the time of our lives, then coming back inside to the warmth and comfort that it had to offer.

After shedding my winter clothes, I towel off and slip into a snug green sweater and a pair of black jeans, opting for some plush socks to keep my toes warm. Despite still feeling a bit chilly, the anticipation of the hot chocolate awaiting us downstairs fills me with a sense of warmth.

While freshening up my appearance in front of the mirror, I catch sight of the emerald jewelry set gifted to me by Michael last night. I smile as I think about what it means to me. How thoughtful of a gift it was. Delicately adorned with shimmering green stones, it complements my outfit perfectly. With a smile, I fasten the earrings and clasp the necklace around my neck, admiring how elegantly they enhance my look.

With one last look in the mirror, I step out of my room, ready to join the others when I run into Michael, leaving his room as well. His eyes widen at the sight of me, speechless. I raise an eyebrow at him as he stares at me, waiting for him to say something. After a moment he shakes his head, as if snapping out of a trance and a warm grin spreads across his face.

"You look... wow," He manages to say softly, still taken aback by the sight of me. As his eyes roam over my outfit, they light up at the sight of me wearing his gift. A blush creeps onto my face as I smile shyly and look off to the side.

"I figured it would go nicely with what I'm wearing." I reply, fiddling with the necklace. Michael smiles, his eyes still twinkling as he looks me over from head to toe.

"You look absolutely gorgeous," he compliments, a hint of admiration in his words. Before I can respond, he leans in and plants a gentle kiss on my cheek, sending a flutter of warmth through me. "I'm going to have trouble keeping my eyes off you."

"Well, then look all you want." I giggle as the touch of his lips sends a jolt of electricity through my entire being, leaving me feeling giddy and breathless.

"We should probably get downstairs. I think the hot chocolate is ready." Michael's fingers tug on mine as he nods towards the steps. With a shared smile, we continue our descent down the stairs, hand in hand.

As we reach the bottom, the comforting aroma of hot chocolate fills the air, drawing us into the kitchen where grandmother stands, ladling out steaming cups of cocoa for each of us. I gratefully accept mine, wrapping my hands around the warm mug.

As we gather in the kitchen for the much-needed warm beverage, Grandmother sets out a plate of cookies and other treats, along with some candy canes to help us get in the holiday spirit. The room fills with laughter and good cheer as everyone warms up and catches up with each other. The kids tumble into the kitchen, clamoring for the sweet treats.

"Y'all slow down, them treats ain't gonna run from you." Aunt Pat calls out to them from the living room. The twins giggle and grab a cup of cocoa, running out of the kitchen with a handful of cookies. I smile as I see Jesse waddle into the kitchen, reaching for a candy cane on the counter. I grab it and hand it to her and she smiles up at me.

"Tank you, Titi." She says, before putting the candy cane in her mouth and walking towards Michael. She lifts her chubby arms up in a silent plea to be picked up.

“Aw, how can anyone resist that?” Michael chuckles as he lifts her up and swings her around, making her giggles grow louder with each swing. He holds her high before setting her back down, ruffling her hair and giving her a kiss on the cheek.

"Seems like you're getting pretty popular around here." I giggle, shaking my head as Jesse jumps up and down, wanting to go up again. Michael laughs and shakes his head.

"It seems like it,” Michael replies, amused at the little girl’s attachment to him. Jesse wraps her arms around his legs, looking up at him with big, pleading eyes.

“Up, up?” She demands sweetly, to which Michael gives in and he picks her up again. Teresa laughs and Michael hands Jesse over to her. Jesse starts to whine, not wanting to leave.

"Come on, baby. we gotta get you changed and then it's nap time." Jesse starts to cry but Teresa doesn't budge and leaves to take her upstairs. Michael chuckles as he watches Teresa take the baby away.

“Looks like someone loves you," I nudge him, my voice full of amusement. He takes a sip from his cocoa and I can’t help but stare at how his eyes sparkle as he laughs and the way the warmth of his smile radiates.

"Yeah, I guess she does," Michael chuckles, taking another sip of hot chocolate, and I swear the man is getting more attractive every minute. From across the room, Ashanti notices the way I’m looking at Michael and she can’t help but chuckle, taking the situation entirely out of context.

“Mimi, you're drooling a bit.” Ashanti says, her teasing voice loud enough for us all to hear, and Michael glances sideways at me as he tries to suppress a smirk. I roll my eyes at her and chuckle.

"Whatever, Ashanti. It was just because I wanted a cookie." I say as I pick up one from the plate of treats, taking a bite.

"Uh-huh, tell yourself that, sweetheart." Ashanti replies with a smirk and I can’t help but snicker as she continues to antagonize me. "Just try not to get any on the counter.”

As the chatter and laughter continue to fill the kitchen, Grandmother, with her usual warmth and hospitality, invites us to settle in and make ourselves comfortable. With the fire crackling and the scent of hot chocolate wafting through the air, it's easy to feel at home.

I take a seat at the table, cradling my mug of cocoa in my hands, savoring the rich, chocolatey warmth. This cozy atmosphere and the company of family are the perfect way to spend Christmas. A game of Spades commences and everyone's energy is elevated as time passes quickly.

The living room, magically illuminated by the large Christmas tree, is infused with laughter and shouting as I finish up my cup of hot chocolate. The mood is light and we are all enjoying ourselves. I also can't help but admire how Michael has just gravitated into our family. He fits in seamlessly and I can think back to when I'd seen interviews talking about how good of a guy he is. I'm glad to know that every word is true.

As the minutes blur into hours, the delicious aroma of Christmas dinner wafts through the house and I notice Michael's eyes light up at the scent. I can feel my hunger growing as well. The sun retreats into the horizon and the kids start to get a little rowdy as they are ready to eat. It doesn't help that the plate of treats is long gone.

"Mommy! When is dinner ready? I'm gonna die!" Matthew whines to Teresa, falling into her lap dramatically.

"Any minute now, honey. The table is almost set.” Teresa responds, stroking Matthew's hair and giving him a kiss. He sighs dramatically as he looks around the room, his eyes landing on me as I'm engaged in a conversation with Ashanti and James.

The four of us share a smile at his melodrama and I can’t help but laugh. Teresa lifts his face with her finger and the two of them have a sweet moment.

As if on cue, the dinner bell rings and everyone eagerly gets up, washing up before heading to the dining room. We stand around the table as Grandmother prays over the food and, once she's finished, we all get to work making our plates. Of all the meals we've had on this trip, this one is rightfully the biggest and most delicious. It seems everyone's plan today is to eat their fill.

I load my plate up with plenty of food, earning some looks from my aunts, but I ignore them. As I enter the dining room, I spot Michael sitting next door to Daniel, deep in conversation. I sit down next to him and he glances at me, throwing me a wink as he goes back to the conversation.

Dinner starts off on a cheerful note, with Grandmother praying over the food and everyone digging into the delicious holiday feast. I can't help but feel grateful for my family, despite our shortcomings, I wouldn't ask for a different family.

"This food is really good, Ms. Samuels." Michael says, smiling at my mother and she returns the smile.

"I'm glad you like it, Michael. Eat as much as you like!" She replies. I chuckle a bit as I look over and see Teresa with a plate filled to the brim with food. I hear Aunt Pat tsk.

"Terry, honey, you're not eating for two anymore, you don't have to eat like a pig anymore, you know?" She tells her, as if it's the most normal thing to say. The table goes silent as Teresa stares across the table at her mother.

"Ma, was that really necessary?" She asks, her brow furrowed. Aunt Pat shrugs her shoulders.

"I was just saying, you're not as young as you used to be. All that food is gonna go right to your hips. You already have a long way to go with all that baby weight." Aunt Tina snickers at her sisters words and Teresa doesn't respond, just eating in silence.

"Can we please not do this right now?" Ashanti asks with annoyance. "Just two seconds, please, without your stupid criticisms?!" Aunt Pat and Tina look at each other in disbelief. My mom shakes her head and sighs and Grandmother doesn't seem to be paying attention.

"Let's just talk about something happy? How about that?" I suggest, offering a smile. Aunt Tina turns to me and smirks.

"Okay, then. So, Mimi, since you and Michael seem to be head over heels for each other, are you planning on living off of him so you can keep painting? I mean painting is all well and good, but it's still not a proper career. Maybe now since you have a movie star boyfriend, you shouldn't have to worry about money." She remarks, her tone dripping with condescension.

I feel my face flush, and my hands clench into fists under the table. Even after everything I've said to them, they still are acting this way. I hate always feeling like I have to live up to these stupid expectations. Michael grabs my hand, unballing my fist and linking our fingers. I look up and I open my mouth to speak.

"You know, if you guys actually cared, you'd know that Naomi is a hard worker and her artwork on average goes for a couple thousand dollars per painting. You say all these things like you care about her well being, but she's actually doing really will without you and your criticism." Michael tells her, standing up for me. Aunt Tina's jaw drops as she stammers for a response.

"I'm just saying, she needs a stable job. Her finances rely on whether she makes a good painting or not and she could at any moment in time lose-"

"Hello, hello, hellooooo!" Ashanti interrupts her, tapping her hand on the table. "It's 2023, right? Oh yeah, it is! Yet here you old women are here being bitter and ugly." Teresa nods and opens her mouth to speak as well.

"So many women nowadays are smashing stereotypes left and right. What happened to supporting each other as women? You both just see someone happily living their life you just have to shit on them!" She says, covering Jesse's ears. Mason and Matthew giggle at hearing the profanity. Just as the argument threatens to escalate, Grandmother stands and puts down her utensils.

"Now that's enough, everyone." She demands and everyone falls silent. "Naomi is a grown woman, capable of making her own life decisions. It's her life, and she has the right to choose her own path. You all have lived your lives already and they are nowhere near perfect. Patrice, you're divorced and you've been bitter ever since. Pat your daughter has a beautiful family and is living happily but you always manage to say something to put her down. She's doing an amazing job as a mother, perhaps even better than you." Aunt pat looks down at her plate, not saying anything.

"And Tina you never even got married! You kept pushing all of your ambitions on Ashanti and she grew up not being her true self. All she wanted was your approval and you never even tell her she's done a good job. Her success may be from what you pushed her to do, but Ashanti is a remarkable woman who is allowed to have ambitions of her own." Grandmother points to Aunt Tina and she avoids eye contact.

"These children are the future and shaping the world and you're trying so hard to live through them because you didn't live your lives the way you wanted to. Angie," She points to my mother. "You have raise a smart, beautiful, and talented daughter and she is making her mark on the world. You did such an amazing job raising her, but you need to do a better job at defending her as well. That's your baby girl, and you don't even notice how much your sisters make her feel bad about herself."

"Ashanti, Teresa, Naomi, I've got some words for you three as well. Indeed these women haven't been the kindest, but these are your mothers, you hear me. You treat them with respect, always. Now, that doesn't mean to let them walk all over you and I'm proud of you girls for looking out for each other, but never is it acceptable to call them names or to curse at them." She tells us sternly. She looks over at Daniel and he looks back at her, wondering what he did.

"Daniel, you have been the family's golden child all your life. You haven't had to deal with a lot of what these young ladies did, but if you see something, you better speak up! There is no being neutral when it comes to you cousins and your little sister. Especially your sister!" She lectures him as he nods, looking over at us.

"James, you are a wonderful match for my grandbaby Teresa. I am so happy she was able to find you and create a gorgeous family. Remember that your wife is number one always, and teach your kids to respect their mother. And Michael." She turns to him and he raises his eyebrows a bit. "Ever since you came and started getting close to my Naomi, she has been happier than I've seen her in years. If you're serious about liking her, you better protect her happiness, because for too long, Mimi hasn't had that type of trust and protection." Michael looks at me and nods his head as well.

"We are a family. We're all we got. So, shape up and love each other, or things will get really ugly around here." Grandmother says, concluding her speech and sitting down. It's silent for a moment and no one moves. I can see the shame on Aunt Tina and Pat's faces, even my mothers. They mumble apologies and we all agree to move past the tension, in an effort to mend our family. I catch Grandmother's eye and she smiles at me.

I mouth the words, "Thank you," to her and she nods at me. I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for her, as she's always been my biggest supporter. I feel Michael squeeze my hand reassuringly and I smile at him.

As dinner draws to a close, Michael leans over, bringing my hand to his lips and gently kissing my knuckles.

"You handled that well," He whispers, his breath warm on my ear, sending shivers down my spine. "Your family clearly has their ups and downs, but it's obvious that you are loved by many. And I can see why. You're strong, talented, and beautiful inside out." He tells me, flashing a charming smile at me. My cheeks flush at his words, and I feel a giddy smile spread across my face.

"Thank you, Michael. That really means a lot, coming from you. I don't know how many times I can say it, but I'm really grateful that I met you and got to get to know you." I tell him and I lean in and kiss his cheek. He puts his arm around my shoulder and presses a kiss to my temple as sit at the table still.

"Hey, last ones at the table have to clean it up!" Ashanti calls from the kitchen. Michael and I look at each other and burst out laughing, shaking our heads as we stand up and start cleaning off the table.

Later, Michael and I are relaxing in the living room with Teresa, Ashanti, Daniel, and James. With Michaels arm around me, I feel a sense of contentment as we reminisce over the events these past few days. We playfully tease Ashanti about her outburst at the market and we talk about our favorite memories as well. It really feels like the end to a cheesy Hallmark movie.

Michael leans into my ear and whispers, "So, about our flight tomorrow morning. I may have gotten you a little something else to go along with it." I raise an eyebrow and look at him.

"A little something else?" I question. He leads me upstairs to his guest room and opens his closet. It holds several shopping bags and I open them to find brand-new clothes. "Michael, what? Why did you buy these?" I ask him. He chuckles at my shocked reaction.

"I know you most likely only packed enough for your trip here, but I want you to have options when we go to LA. I've got a lot planned for us and I didn't want you to have to worry about a thing." He explains. "I also wanted to spoil you, I think it's become my new hobby." He jokes. I stand up and turn to him, pouting. He raises an eyebrow but then I wrap my arms around his waist and bury my face in his chest. He laughs a bit as he holds me close to him.

"Why are you so perfect~" I ask in a playful whine, looking up at him.

"I'm far from perfect, sweetheart," he tells me with a smile. "Just head over heels, like Aunt Tina said." He leans down and presses a gentle kiss to my forehead, pulling me even closer. I cringe at his words and giggle.

"Ew, no. We don't use that phrase anymore." I tell him as I pretend to barf. Michael chuckles at my over the top reaction and faked a look of hurt, clutching his chest dramatically.

"Oh, yep- you got me right in the heart-" He grunts as he pretends to die. I roll my eyes at him.

"Whatever." I giggle and try to walk away, but he grabs my hand and pulls me back in. He locks his arms around me so I can't escape and starts trailing kisses on my neck, making his way to my lips. I fight back as best as I can, but I eventually give in, giggling against his lips.

We continue to kiss passionately, his hands roaming across my body, relishing the feeling of my skin under his fingertips. Eventually, I pull away, slightly out of breath, but completely enamored with him.

"Sorry, I couldn't help it. You taste so good," He murmurs, his voice husky and filled with desire. "We should probably get to packing, we have an early day tomorrow." Michael's hands rest on my hips, his thumbs trailing over my curves.

"Yeah, you're right. Cause I'm goin' to LA!" I squeal excitedly and he grins at my enthusiasm, feeling a mix of excitement and affection swelling in his chest.

"Yep, and it's gonna be the best trip of your life. That's a guarantee." He winks at me and plants a few more kisses on my lips before detaching himself from me, though not without sneaking a playful pat on my butt as I walk away. I giggle and turn back to him. "Come on, let's get packing.

The rest of the day, everyone is preparing to leave. Teresa and her family are leaving tonight, as well as Ashanti, claiming she has business to attend to. I give my cousins a warm goodbye and we all promise to keep in touch. My aunts are silent for the rest of the night, which is a nice change for once. I finish up packing and Daniel, Michael and I spend time talking by the fireplace. Eventually, we all retire to our rooms, resting up for the next day.

In the morning, Grandmother is up early and cooks a hearty meal for those who haven't left yet. We thank her and eat up, knowing this might be the last homecooked meal we have for a while. Daniel was driving back to LA, but he offered to drop us off at the airport. We took our time saying goodbye to the family and I made a point to even say goodbye to my aunts. It's better to leave on a good note.

As I stand in the living room, waiting for Michael to come down with the rest of our bags. I pause for a moment, taking in the familiar, comforting surroundings—the well-worn couch, the stack of board games, and the photos on the mantle, both old and new, all reminders of the eventful holiday I've just had.

I hear footsteps on the stairs and see Michael descending the stairs.

"Ready to go, beautiful?" He asks, pulling me into a warm embrace. I encircle my arms around his neck, feeling my hear skip a beat.

"Yeah, just about." I smile, taking in your familiar scent, leaning up and capturing your lips in a kiss. Daniel clears his throat noisily from the foyer, causing us to break apart.

"Ahem, I'm happy for you two, really, but we've got a schedule to keep, folks. Time to hit the road." He tells us and we chuckle, grabbing the last of our stuff and putting it in his car. We say our last goodbyes before heading out to the car. Michael and I sit in the backseat of Dan's car, getting comfy as the car starts. As we pull off, I watch as my childhood home disappears around the corner, bidding it a silent farewell. I felt a twinge of sadness for the difficulties I faced these past few days, but I feel Michael take my hand in his and my mood is replaced with excitement for what's to come.

When we arrive at the airport, Daniel helps Michael unload our luggage. I give him a big hug, saying goodbye for now.

"Thank you for everything, Daniel. Not just for bringing Michael into my life, but just being my brother and looking out for me. I love you."

Daniel returns the hug, his voice a bit gruff with affection. "Love you to, Mimi. Now go and have some fun. Just remember to call, text, or send a smoke signal now and then to let me know you're okay." He tells me. I nod and he daps up Michael, claiming they'll see each other at work. As we grab our stuff and walk towards the entrance, Daniel calls after us.

"Hey! Take care of my little sister, or I'll come looking for you, Jordan," Daniel warns with a playful growl.

"Will do, I won't let anything happen to her," Michael assures him. And with that, we wave him goodbye. I am unable to wipe my smile off my face as we check in and make our way through customs. We board our plane and settle into our seats and I look out the window at the world outside as we wait to lift off.

"This is it," Michael says, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Our first of many trips together. I can't wait to show you all the best spots in LA." My heart races as I look into Michael's eyes.

"I'm so excited. I can't wait to see what's in store for us." I reply and we lace our fingers together, smiling warmly at each other. I feel incredibly fortunate to have Michael by my side— a man who seems to understand me so well and who has already woven himself into the fabric of my life and family.

As the plane ascends, I gaze out the window, watching the snowcapped mountains give way to fluffy white clouds. I feel a sense of peace and contentment, knowing that whatever lay ahead, I have the love and support of my family, and now Michael, to see me through it all.

Little did I know that this trip would mark the beginning of a new chapter in my life—one where I never have to go through anything alone anymore, one where I find true happiness and realize just how blessed I truly am.

As I think back on the events of this trip, it really had a little of everything. We had a lot of fun, a bit of drama, a budding romance. When I look back, this truly was a December to remember...

[swissboyhisch]

You're My Favourite

Pairing: Auston Matthews x Reader

Summary: A visit to your family goes wrong when Auston meets your Aunt

Word Count: 1451

Warnings: Family drama and fat comments

Request: From Anon Can you please write me an angsty imagine with Auston Matthews! Have such a thing for that man 🫣

A/N: I don't know if this is truly angsty but I'm quite happy with this. Sorry if it isn't what you wanted

THE MASTERLIST JOIN THE TAGLIST HOCKEY DISCORD

Today was the day Auston was meeting your family. It happened to be your mum’s birthday and she was having a family dinner. Auston had already met her and your half siblings, but he was yet to meet your aunt and nana.  The pair had travelled to come visit for her birthday. Something you weren’t looking forward to. Well not your grandmother because you love her. Just your aunt.

She was known in your family for favouring your oldest sister. Everyone knew it; all your siblings, your mother, your nana. Even your closest friends. Your sister was the daughter she never had yet you couldn’t make her proud… Despite being a world champion in your own sport. She on the other hand was an academic turned personal trainer. She is married now with a kid, your niece Chloe. One that your aunt adored as well. 

You and Auston pulled up to your childhood home in the outskirts of Toronto. It was a quiet area that you enjoyed growing up in. By the amount of cars in the yard, you two were the last to arrive. Auston grabbed out your container of homemade brownies plus the birthday present before the pair of you made your way inside. 

“Mum!”

A variety of footsteps were heard. Included the pitter patter of your niece. The 4 year old rounded the corner, running straight at the two of you. “Uncle Auston!”

The man besides you laughs as he lifts up Chloe into his arms. She was quick to wrap her arms around him, starting to tell him about her first few weeks at school. Your mum hugged you first while Auston was busy with your niece.

“Happy birthday Mum.”

“Thank you baby,” Mum smiled, “I’m glad you and Aus could make it. I’ve missed you both.”

Auston passed Chloe to you before getting a hug from your mum as well. They had been close over the years of your relationship with the hockey player. He loved being close to your family, coming over for dinner whenever the pair of you could. When his schedule allows it that is. 

“Happy birthday,” Auston grins, handing her her birthday present. The pair of you had gotten her a bottle of her favourite perfume bottle and some other bath products. Oh and a voucher for a day at her favourite spa. “I’m looking forward to the pizza for dinner.”

“Well now you two are here we can get started on making them.”

Everyone gathered in the kitchen, around the dining table where the pizza making station had been set up. Both you and Auston greet your siblings and the couple partners. Then your nana walked in. She was your typical grandmother, short, grey hair with a warm smile. One that was always a welcomed sight.

“Hello sweetheart,” Nana smiled. You had to lean down to hug the woman. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been good thanks. Nan, this is my boyfriend, Auston. Aus, this is my Nan, Sue.”

Nana brought Auston straight in for a hug. “It’s lovely to meet the boy who treats my little girl like a princess.” 

Then came your aunt. She stood beside your mum. Just like every other time, she didn’t hug you, no smile. “Hey darl.”

“Hey, this is my boyfriend, Auston.”

She nodded in return. One you got a lot. And one that Auston knew pisses you off. After years of treatment, you were used to it but it still made you mad. Your Aunt’s eyes looked you up and down. The judgy look all too familiar. Her eyes in particular came to stop at your prominent scar running down your abdomen. It was one you were proud of as well. Auston spotted this and was quick to pull you in, hand resting on the scar. He had worked hard to get you to finally think it wasn’t ugly. He wasn’t going to let a judgy family member make you think otherwise.

Without so much as another word, the rest of your family started talking again. Making the pizzas was easy. Auston and yourself agreed on a simple pepperoni pizza. You snuck to the garage to grab yourself and Auston a drink. Well you shotgunned one before grabbing two cans and heading back to the kitchen. 

Whilst waiting on them to cook, everyone sat around the table on the patio. Your Aunt sat beside your eldest sister. Asking her about her life and everything in between. You watched on as no-one asked you about your life.

“How’s training been?” Nan asked you. Someone finally deciding paying your attention.

You explained what’s been going on recently with your sport. Talking about your up and coming competitions. Everyone else was listening but your Aunt. Auston noticed this. Watching how while you talked passionately and excitedly about your passion, your Aunt just scrolled through her phone. He knew this was also the first time in a year that she had seen you. 

Mid sentence she cut you off, directing the attention of everyone to your sister. Auston saw you deflate. Your confidence that he loved is gone before his eyes. He slipped his hand through yours, leaning over to press a kiss to your temple. You leaned into him for comfort. 

“I’ll help you mum,” You spoke up when your mum went to pull out the pizzas.

Auston watched you go back into the kitchen with both your mother and nana. Leaving him with your siblings and your aunt. 

“She’s put on weight, yeah?” Your aunt pointed out, looking at the woman beside her.

Your sister hadn’t ever seen how you were treated. Or never realised. Sure, you had spoken about how she was the favourite. But never had she heard your aunt so blatantly speak like that about you.

“She’s been working hard during her training,” Auston replied. 

Your aunt shrugged, “She’s always been fat.”

He couldn’t believe it. Someone who definitely was classed as obese had the audacity to make a comment about his active, healthy girlfriend. 

“Aunty…” 

“I’m just looking out for her,” Your aunt dismisses. “How is she supposed to keep her superstar boyfriend if she can’t look after herself?”

A pizza was slammed down on the table in front of her making her jump. To Auston’s horror, you had heard her comment. Something that he knew would trigger you. Especially after the issue of all the fan comments you had to contend with mentally. All the hate comments. 

“I just can’t please you, can I?” 

“Oh please, stop complaining.”

Your mum had come out of the kitchen to the sight of you seething off to the side of your aunt. Auston was on the edge of his seat. Everyone else around the table looked uncomfortable. 

“You okay?” Your mum asked you. 

You shook your head, “I’m sick of being the disappointment.”

Without so much as another word, you sniffled and left. Probably to go hide in your old bedroom. Everyone just watched you leave the patio. Auston stood up to follow. Not before turning to your aunt. 

“She’s known she wasn’t the favourite since she was 15. But she still never spoke badly about you. And yet you can’t be nice to save your life.” He looked around at your siblings, all sitting quietly. He knew that you and your oldest sister were the only one blood related to your aunt. Your other siblings were through your sister’s dad’s side. “She puts up with you because of your family and is told to respect her elders. But I won’t let you talk about her like that.”

Auston left everyone outside and followed in your footsteps. He could hear your sniffles from down the hallway. He knocked on your bedroom door. Once he got a quiet come in, he opened the door. Your bedroom was so you. It was the only way he could explain it. You were sitting on your bed,  a pair of airpods you had found in your room in your ears. It was your way of escaping your feelings. 

“Hey,” Auston whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead before taking a seat beside you. 

You didn’t say anything, only handed him a bud. Your favourite song was playing. Auston pulled you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around you. Letting you snuggle into him for comfort. 

“Thank you.”

Auston chuckles, “How do you know I did anything?”

“I know you Aus,” You mumble, pressing a kiss to his lips. 

“I’ll always be on your side. You’re my favourite and that won’t ever change.”

“What about your mum?” You ask. You know he and Ema are close. 

“She’ll be happy knowing I found the girl I want to marry.”

TAG LIST

@findapenny @mp0625 @hischierhaze @11zegras @lvrzegras @francesfarhadi @cixrosie @daisysthings

[hotreadingwitch]

MADE TO LIE - the epilogue

“UNCLE STEVE!” 3-year-old Rebecca practically screeched as her favourite uncle lifted her up into a tight, spinning hug. 

The little girl beamed as she was then smothered in kisses by her two aunts Natasha and Wanda. Sam hugged her too, patting her affectionately on her wavy mass of brunette hair that she got from her dad. 

“Come in, come in,” Bucky gestured for them to move to the living room where the large, decorated tree was glistening with festive light. 

“Don’t forget about the little one” Y/n joked from the couch at the crew of her friends, her family, that had just arrived for the morning’s celebrations. 

The four came over immediately all cooing at the newborn who was wrapped in a light pink blanket. Wanda poked at the sweet thing’s cheek, giggling as it jiggled, bouncing from the slight pressure. 

“Hi Stevie,” Steve said softly, his eyes glistening as he took the small baby from Y/n, rocking her in his arms. Y/n sighed with relief, her heart full as she took in the warm scene taking place before her. Bucky planted a distracted kiss on her cheek before hugging Sam, Natasha, and Wanda in greeting, wishing them all happy holidays as he did. 

Over the last six years of being together, Y/n had discovered that Bucky was rarely as happy as he was during the annual holiday. Some people hated it, overly concerned with finding the perfect presents or completely stressed about one thing or another. She figured it was such a memorable day for him because he had spent so many of them as a child with Steve and his family. Though Y/n didn’t have as many sweet memories of the day from her childhood with her father and his group of criminals, the day was forever changed for her as, exactly four years ago, Bucky had proposed to her at Tony’s holiday party. Their friends had cheered for them and their future as they kissed under the mistletoe, never wanting to break apart. 

This Christmas, like each one they’d had together thus far, was bound to be a special one. It was little Stevie Jr’s first Christmas and Rebecca's third but it was also the first time Bucky and Y/n were hosting the special day at their house with their small group of chosen family. The old Brooklyn apartment resisted the December cold, the lit fireplace thankfully keeping them all toasty and warm as they settled in for the merry day. The smell of fresh gingerbread instantly brought Y/n back from the reel of memories that were playing in her head. 

“Treats anyone?” Beatka cheered as she bustled into the living room, bearing cookies. 

Sam and Wanda practically dived for the warm baked goods making the rest laugh at their antics. Y/n grabbed one as well, splitting it in half and helping Rebecca into her high chair to eat it. 

“Thank you Mama” the toddler expressed her gratitude. 

Y/n caressed her hair, helplessly affectionate when it came to the little girl only to feel Bucky’s hand on her back, rubbing gentle circles, releasing all her tension. She gazed up at him, helplessly affectionate when it came to him too. The kiss she placed on his lips was chaste and yet Rebecca's small "ew” was loud, making them break apart just to laugh, blush tinting their cheeks. 

~ Later that night ~

Y/n snuggled closer to the mound of warmth beneath her as she woke from a short but deep sleep, her holiday dress slightly crumpled. A smooth, jazzy melody flitted through her consciousness as she yawned. Propping herself up onto her elbow she looked over to see a record spinning on the old player next to Bucky’s impressive vinyl collection. 

The stars are aglow. And tonight how their light sets me dreaming. My love, do you know? That your eyes are like stars brightly beaming?

“I think I maybe had too much of that spiked egg nog doll” Bucky’s low rumbling voice reverberated in her ears, breaking her away from her sleepy trance. 

She laughed through the brain fog that came from sleep, tilting her head upward to capture his lips in a small kiss, one that quickly deepened into something more. 

“Can I ask you something?” Y/n questioned when they finally broke apart. 

“You know you can” was Bucky’s easy reply. 

“Will you dance with me?”

A low, rumbling laugh sounded in his chest as he pulled her up to stand before him, taking her hands and placing them behind his neck. It was moments like this where Y/n felt most connected to Bucky, both his present and his past. They stood swaying to the music, allowing the lyrics and the sweet melody to caress them as their hands did the same, playing over each other’s skin.

I bring you and sing you a moonlight serenade. Let us stray, till break of day in love’s valley of dreams.

“You’re good at this” she flushed beneath his warm gaze. “Do you ever miss it?” 

“Miss what?” 

“The 40s” 

“I miss who I was but even then, not fully because I like who I’ve become…” he paused, taking a breath as if pondering the right thing to say, “And I miss the dancing”

His lighter tone encouraged Y/n to smile and ask, “Show me?”

He swayed her forward and back, side to side, even dipping her at one point, balancing her weight easily. His callused palms ran across her arms, making her shiver as his hips and feet did the majority of the work for both of them. But what she noticed the most was his expression. It was the softest she’d ever seen him look, exposed by the gentle moonlight streaming through the tall window and the glow of the Christmas tree behind them. 

“I love that song” Y/n whispered as the melody reached its natural conclusion. 

And I sing you a song in the moonlight, a love song, my darling. A moonlight serenade…

She smiled to herself before humming it from the beginning, allowing them to continue to dance, Bucky swinging her gently along. He matched her voice, his baritone one melding together with her higher tone. It truly was a serenade, a moment of vulnerability for them both as they danced beneath the celestial light that shone brightly down on all of Brooklyn. 

“I love you” she whispered into his chest like a secret. 

He tilted her chin up to look at him, his gaze fond and real, “I love you too doll” 

Bucky Barnes was not a man who opened up easily, so Y/n’s responding kiss was her way of saying she was honoured. She was honoured that in the end, he’d trusted her, that he’d cared for her, that he had chosen love—their love— above self-destruction. This was not to say that Y/n hadn’t made the same hard choice. She too had to overcome her most negative thoughts, her learned behaviours, and her traumas to be with him. Some days they struggled but mostly they lived in love, appreciating the life that they’d built. She beamed at the thought that in their shared pain they both had found something worth fighting for. 

requested account tags: cjand10 identity2212 bucky-jbb-sunshine unaxv hnnhbananananana @differenttyphoonwerewolf

[willshookaspear]

NOT BY BLOOD | RAFE - 40: not by blood.

Snippet of Chapter 40: not by blood

"Merry Christmas!" Josie shouted as she opened the front door. Sarah came running as soon as she heard her best friend's voice. "Oh my god, you're back!" she exclaimed and pulled Josie in for a hug. "I was worried you would miss Christmas. How did it go?"

He drilled his eyes into hers, waiting for an answer to his question.Did you love me. Or do you love me?His chest was heavy like it had been so many times for the past few months. An invisible weight suffocated his breathing and lay barren his soul. She could make or break him at this moment. This was the moment where he found out if he would have to cope with existing in this world without her.When he'd opened the door he'd thought he was dreaming for a second. He couldn't believe that she was standing in his apartment right now.And why was she taking so fucking long to answer?

Here was Rafe Cameron, telling her that he loved her.It had been milliseconds since he asked the question. It was like Josie's mind and body overflowed. She had so much to say to him. And she couldn't possibly put what she felt for him into words. 'Love' seemed an understatement. But when she realized she hadn't yet replied, she let out a small breath through her agape mouth and shook her head, as if shaking off all the irrelevant thoughts until she could only get that one sentence out. The one sentence that mattered. The one he needed to hear. And she needed to say. "Jo..." Rafe started, hope draining from his face, leaving it pale, torn. She exhaled sharply and jumped the ledge. "I love you." Rafe's eyes met hers, slightly narrowed as if he was trying to decipher if he heard right. "You love me?"

"Ehm," Josie started and brushed some hair out of her face and behind her ear. She was interrupted when Rafe barged through the door with all their luggage, and the numerous bags of Christmas presents they'd picked up on the way. "Jesus fucking Christ," he muttered as she dropped it all on the floor and sighed out. When he saw Sarah and Josie looking amused at him he smiled in proper holiday spirit and walked up to them. "I see you got your puppy dog with you," Sarah said and stuck her tongue out at her big brother. Then she turned to Josie, face full of excitement. "So, what do you wanna do tonight?"

"I don't mind. Got anything planned?" Josie asked as she slipped off her jacket and hung it up. 

"I'm glad you asked," Sarah stated firmly and dug out a crumpled up piece of paper from her back pocket and smoothed it out on her thigh. "Since you've never had an Outer Banks Christmas, I made a list of all the Tannyhill traditions we have to do. Rafe?" Sarah turned to her brother and waved the list in the air. "You in?"

Rafe just shook his head with a smirk and wrapped his arms around Josie's waist, leaning his chin into her shoulder. "Whatever, Sarah. From now on, I go wherever Jo goes."

Sarah couldn't help but form a sneaky smile as she pointed a finger at them. "Please, the whole family is here for Christmas. I'm not gonna be the first one on this holiday to mention how you're basically cousins." And at that comment, Rafe and Josie at the same time let out, "Not by blood!"

AO3: NOT BY BLOOD | RAFE CAMERON by willshookaspear

[illfoandillfie]

Blurb Advent 2023: Day 24

This idea came to me after seeing about a hundred reels on insta about guys in grey sweatpants lmao, so i wrote it.

Warnings: minimal editing ofc, making out, mostly pretty cute but quite a lot of dick talk

Ben had stuck the heating on but it was still getting warmed up, a slight chill through the house. The two of you were rugged up on the couch with some mulled wine Ben had decided to make, a gingerbread scented candle burning in the kitchen making the whole place smell festive, and a Christmas variety show playing in the background. The tree was lit up, perhaps unnecessarily considering it wasn’t yet night but the sky outside was grey, threatening to snow. Almost a cliched holiday scene. There was a pile of presents underneath, opne you’d have to load into the car in the morning since they were mostly for parents and siblings, uncles and aunts. Tomorrow would be chaotic since you were intending to visit both his and your families – lunch with one dinner with another – but that wasn’t new. Since your very first holiday with Ben, Christmas had been like that. It only took a couple of years for the two of you to declare Christmas Eve your day. Just the two of you, getting into the holiday spirit and probably making out a little.  

Tradition dictated that you each got to open one present on Christmas Eve. Usually, the silliest thing you’d got each other. You’d save the bigger, more impressive stuff for opening with everyone else, but there was always something smaller, something goofier that you could exchange the day before. Ben sorted through the pile under the tree until he pulled out a smallish square box, wrapped up in paper with candy canes printed on it.   “Merry Christmas Eve, babe,” he said softly, handing it to you with a small kiss.   You tore into it excitedly, revealing the box which claimed to contain a galaxy projector, “Oh my god Ben! This is so cool!”  He gave you a pleased little grin, “I thought you’d like it.”  You fussed about getting it out of the box and plugging it in as Ben set to opening the package you’d given him.   “Oh score, babe! I needed new trackies” Ben said, holding up the grey sweatpants you’d bought him.  You giggled, “no problem honey.”  “Am I old? I just got ridiculously excited about what I definitely would have considered a boring present as a kid. Does that make me old?”  “Aww honey, no. They’re very hip and cool. All the hot young things are buying them for their guys. The internet tells me so.”  “What are you on about?”  “You haven’t seen those insta reels? The memes about how hot guys in grey trackies are?���  “Ummm no. Oh god maybe I really am old.”  You snorted, “If you put them on I can explain what the memes are. But no undies okay?”  “And that will make me young? Sounds crazy but okay, they look really fucking comfy.” 

In the time it took for Ben to go and change you managed to get the galaxy projector working. It wasn’t quite as good as the box implied but it was cute and you liked how it looked.  “Woah, hey, that’s pretty cool.” Ben said, stairing up at the stars on the ceiling, “I thought it was gonna be a bit shitter to be honest.”  You were placing the projector on the coffee table, laughing, but as you turned you nearly choked. The memes had been right, it was hot. You could see practically everything.   Ben was oblivious to your staring, “Babe you did so well, these are so comfy I love them.” He did a bit of a turn in them, letting you see his ass for a moment before the outline of his cock was back in front of your eyes.   “Honey why don’t you come sit,” you patted the couch beside you.  Ben seemed a little surprised but he obliged.  “In fact, why don’t you put your feet up,” you scooted off the couch so Ben had space to stretch out.  “Uhhh, yeah alright. Don’t you want to sit too though?”  “Oh I will,” you let Ben get settled before pouncing, straddling him and leaning in to kiss him.  Ben hummed into the kiss, his arms automatically wrapping around you and pulling you close.   “Not sure what that was about,” he said softly when you finally broke apart, “but I’m not complaining. Just tell me what I did to get you so horny, so I can do it again.”  “Did you not look at yourself in a mirror when you changed into these pants?”  “No,”  “So you didn’t realise how visible your dick is?”  “Is it?”  You laughed, “This isn’t helping make you seem less old. That’s what the memes are about and I can tell you they’re spot on. I’ve been staring at your cock since you changed.”  “Oh, wel-”  “Shh, don’t say anything else, it’ll only distract from making out.”  Ben groaned as you rocked forward, his cock pressed against your cunt, “Yeah okay, good plan. 

[maximoffromanoffs]

Christmas with Aunt Scar

Given that it's only been a month since aunt scar's birthday and so now three since my dad went away for half a year to work, to nobody's surprise I'm still with my aunt scar for Christmas, and it's Christmas Eve right now.

I know she wants me to feel okay and included and like I'm just a part of the family, but I don't, she's my family but I'm not a part of her little family unit. Colin's not my dad, rose and Cosmo aren't my siblings, and she's not my mom. And I have to remind myself of that fact every single day I stay with her.

Because she really acts the part.

But then a big holiday like Christmas comes around and I'm suddenly surrounded by a bunch of 'family members' who aren't a part of mine, and technically shouldn't be.

It's the night of Christmas Eve, and we've just finished eating our dinner. Rose and Cosmo running off to go to the couch so they can put some of their favourite Christmas movies on, while Scarlett, Colin and I tidy up the dishes.

Colin randomly starts laughing making me and aunt scar share a confused look, before colin mumbles out "better go keep an eye on those two, who knows what they'll do in there," making us still look at him confused. "Guys" he says exasperatedly, "they're little. There's presents in there. Come on!" His attitude making me and Scarlett share a laugh at him as she then pats his shoulder telling him "you go watch them then, save Christmas!" While giving him her signature smirk.

He leaves the room sulking at us laughing at him being so dramatic. We finish up cleaning and aunt scar turns to me with a fond look "you excited for Christmas, sweet girl?" Making me give a non-enthusiastic nod towards her.

She steps forwards, cupping my cheeks in her hands, as she directs my eyes to look into hers. We spend just a moment looking into each other's eyes, we've always felt pretty connected in this sense, and it's what helps us to understand one another so well.

Scarlett whispers "you know you can be honest with me y/n," making my face scrunch up a little but nodding none the less. "I'm not going to force you to talk to me, darling, but I'm here, okay? If you want to talk. If you miss your dad. If you want a cuddle. Maybe you want a distraction. Literally anything. You tell me, because you've not opened up a lot since you've been staying with me, and I want to be here for you, for whatever you need. And these times of the year have to harder for you, especially without your dad, so you can always tell me about those things baby."

I just melt into her hands which are still gently cupping my cheeks, giving her a soft nod, not quite feeling up to talking about it right now.

"Tell you what, why don't we go join the others, watch a few films and just chill for a bit and then maybe we can chat?"

I nod showing her I agree with that idea, as Scarlett smiles, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as she leads us into the living room.

As soon as she shifts to sit down Cosmo crawls onto her lap and Rose shuffles out of Colin's arms to rest against her mom's side instead. Colin gives a little huff as he gives her an offended look, but Rose is totally unbothered, giggling at his face, before stuffing her head into Scarlett's arm. "Okay is today officially laugh at Colin day? I know I usually make jokes but I haven't tried to TODAY"

I laugh at them all, still not having sat down yet, but I do ruffle Rose's hair and in response to Colin I utter "she just wanted her mom, can't blame her for that."

What I forgot that I'd get in response from these two is four concerned eyeballs looking my way. At me saying that, Colin shuffles away from the side of Scarlett that Rose isn't currently latched into like a koala, as he pats the newly made space for me to sit down.

Y/n: "Oh um Colin it's okay I can just sit over there, I don't want to intrude."

C: "Intrude? Honey you're not intruding at all, come on come sit"

He pats the space between them again, so I take him up on his offer this time, shuffling to sit between them.

Once we're all comfortable I hear aunt scar let out a big content sigh, before she mumbles "oh my babies, I love you all so very much." As she kisses Cosmo's head, then Rose's cheek, then my cheek, after leaning over to press a peck to Colin's lips.

We stay all snuggled up while we watch a few movies before it's time for the littles to go to bed.

Aunt scar stands up and claps looking rather excited, "okay my dears, time to get the cookies and milk for Santa!" Rose squeals in excitement as she jumps up, grabbing Cosmo's hand and pulling him over to the Christmas tree.

I cant lie, i may be 17, but I never really had anyone do all of these traditions with me. I can't remember ever leaving food for Santa.

So despite not standing up and following Rose and Cosmo, I do keep an eye on them from afar. I see how my aunt scar speaks with such belief and imagination, making this fun for her kids.

I notice she's getting ready to put them to bed so she says "come on kiddos, bed time, we can go have a story then we need to go to bed so Santa will come!!"

What I don't expect is Rose to tilt her head towards me saying "sissy come on, you have to come too!" I give her a smile, letting her grab my hand and pull me upstairs, while Scar picks Cosmo up and carries him on her hip.

We all sit down on Rose's bed where apparently she demanded Cosmo has to stay with her tonight too, so Scarlett let's them sit and then they shuffle onto her lap when she sits. She pats the space next to her for me to sit too, which I do.

When Colin joins us, sitting a little further down the bed since we can't all fit next to each other, Cosmo scrambles over to sit on his lap instead. So now having some free space Scarlett pulls my body to rest against her side but I decide to keep my head up.

They start to tell a story, not even reading from a book, simply coming up with it on the spot. Scarlett and Colin take turns, Rose and Cosmo half-heartedly listening along. But as someone who never had a story made up for them, I can't help but stare at whoever's speaking, completely intrigued and feeling whole as my aunt and Colin heal a part of me I didn't even know had a hole.

While they're telling the story, I don't even realise that I let my head fall to rest on aunt scar's chest, her fingers intertwined with mine as I fiddle with them subconsciously. My eyes and head unknowingly turn to gaze up at her while she's speaking so animatedly, and automatically shifting along to Colin when he so effortlessly takes over. It's only when I shift my gaze back to aunt scar once again, and she turns her head to connect eyes with me, that I look away blushing, keeping my eyes down and just snuggling into her chest.

They stop a few minutes after that since Rose and Cosmo had gotten really sleepy, so they shift to place them under the covers, Rose mumbling "goodnight," and Cosmo copying her with a "nigh-nigh" Colin kisses both of their heads before heading to the doorframe of the room, and Scarlett follows with a "goodnight my darlings," pressing kisses all over her kids faces, including Rose's pouting lips which makes her give a cute little sleepy giggle, and reminds me so much of me and her and i was Rose's age myself. Almost making me miss the woman who's literally standing right in front of me, which sounds so silly.

Just before Rose turns over to go to sleep she whispers "night night sissy, you better sleep soon so Santa comes."

That makes me smile as I gently kiss both of their heads too, reassuring Rose I will go to sleep soon, as we leave them to get some rest before the big day.

As we walk out, I turn to go to my room, which is just across from aunt Scarlett and Colin's, but a hand around my waist stops me. Before I know it, I'm being picked up, which honestly makes me gasp, not expecting that and also not expecting someone to be able to pick me up and comfortably carry me.

I'm readjusted and just by the feeling I know it's my aunt, as she now holds me against her front, my legs around her waist and my head against her shoulder. She starts to move us towards her door instead, where she then playfully chucks me onto the bed, us both laughing at what just happened.

"Aunt scar why'd you bring me in here?" I ask as I shuffle to snuggle against her pillow, she smiles at me moving towards me so that she can rest a hand on my hair, "just wanted you close to me" she mumbles while leaning down to kiss my forehead.

Since we're already ready for bed, she wastes no more time so she crawls into bed right next to me. We both share her pillow which makes her scrunch her nose at me when she lays her face right in from of mine.

Scar leans forward brushing her nose against mine as we both have massive idiotic smiles. She then smirks before whispering "you better go to sleep otherwise Santa won't come," following that with a wink. I giggle at her shifting to get up, aunt scar frowns saying "are you leaving baby?" Me just looking at her nodding saying "I was going to go to bed," she gives a little nod before she says "you want me to come stay with you?"

I shrug, not expecting that but also not against the idea. I forget she's so good at reading me, I don't even have to say anything and she knows I'm not as okay as I'm pretending to be.

She gives me one last smile saying "alrighty I'll join you, just gonna say goodnight to Colin and then I'll be with you my love." Before I can leave the room I hear a little tut coming from her, making me turn to her, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. In response she simply puckers her lips. It's something we always used to do when I was little, especially around Christmas time because she used to stay with us before she even had Rose or when she was with her dad. It makes me laugh but I go over to her and peck her lips, to which she mumbles "thank you baby, I'll be there in five."

And this time I actually leave the room, my face bright red no doubt.

I accidentally drift off to sleep not even being able to wait the five minutes for her to come to my room, I stir a little when she joins me as she wraps an arm around my waist from behind, but she shushes me, kissing my temple, as I drift back off into a peaceful sleep. Feeling forever grateful that i have my aunt scar.

[tar-maitime]

like my mirror years ago pt. 3

Rating: T Characters: Maedhros | Maitimo, Fingon | Findekano, Finwe, Feanor Additional: Years of the Trees, time travel, AU, fix-it WC: 1k

Read the previous installment here Apologies for the delayed update; life hit like a semitruck there for a bit.

“Maitimë? Who is this?”

Maedhros freezes in her tracks, causing Findekano to nearly stumble into her back. The plan had been for Maitimë to get them into her father’s house in Tirion, so they could explain the situation to Fëanaro and discuss their ideas for exposing Melkor. Good ideas, all of them - Maedhros would believe in them if her memories didn’t firmly contradict any of them coming true.

The plan had not involved running across...

“Haru Finwë!” Maitimë says, a little too brightly. “This is...a friend I have recently become acquainted with, and I had something here that I wished to show her. I did not know you were visiting today.”

Maedhros has a sneaking suspicion that she should bow, or do something similar. It’s been so long since she was at the court in Tirion, and even then, the rules for her and her siblings and cousins were of course different from those for strangers. She can’t remember any of the formalities properly now. All she can think of is the awful silence before the messengers finally said what she’d already begun to guess, that her grandfather was dead - the awful blankness in her father before rage had taken over - the way that her aunt Findis had put herself between Indis and anyone from Fëanaro’s family, all through the hastily arranged funeral - the broken grief-sounds that Indis had tried and failed to suppress...

Her grandfather’s death had shaped every moment of her life thereafter, and yet Maedhros had never really gotten the chance to mourn him, every moment being consumed with something that needed to be done, people who needed to be held together or managed.

And now he’s alive, right in front of her, and doesn’t know her. 

Her cloak and hood, she’s fairly sure, are covering the armor and her shorn hair, but the manifold scars on her face are still plainly visible, and she can feel Finwë’s concern as his gaze tracks over her, trying to figure out what happened to her, what’s wrong with her. 

She wants to wrap herself up in one of his hugs and cry, but that would be startling and abnormal even if he recognized her, let alone with her being presented as a stranger. 

“My king,” she murmurs, with a dip of her head, acutely aware of the roughness of her ruined voice.

Anyone who had lived in Beleriand for any length of time would have noted the things about her that don’t belong, would have disregarded politeness in favor of a healthy suspicion and investigated. Perhaps once, before the Great Journey, Finwë would have done the same. But the Finwë who is king in Valinor sees only his beloved granddaughter’s odd but harmless friend - everything here is harmless - so he merely nods and smiles benevolently and goes his way. “I shan’t keep you.”

She will keep him, though, if she can, Maedhros thinks with a sudden ache. She will keep him and her father and her cousins and brothers and Findekano, everyone she loves - keep them alive, keep them from becoming what she has had to become. She no longer cares if it is impossible. They have to try anyway.

“Come on,” she says, once Finwë has gone. “We need to find Atar.”

* * *

“Nelyafinwë! What has happened to you?”

That’s all it takes for Maedhros to feel her knees go out from under her, because. Fëanaro was looking at her when he said it. He looked at her and called her Nelyafinwë; he knows who she is.

“Atar,” she says, and that’s all she manages before she has to sit down on a mercifully uncluttered stool and Fëanaro abandons what he was tinkering with and crosses to her in three quick strides.

The actual Maitimë is beside her in another moment. “Atar, how did you know?” she asks quietly. “Even I couldn’t guess; I had to be told.”

Fëanaro looks downright offended. “She is my child. Obviously I would know who she is. Now,” he turns back to Maedhros, “Nelyafinwë - other-Nelyafinwë, I suppose - can you tell me what happened that did all this to you?”

He reaches to hold her hands, seeming disturbed when he only encounters one, but she grips his hand tightly in the one she has. Another person she’s lost, here in front of her again, alive and real.

“You’re not going to ask how I got here?” she says.

Fëanaro half-shrugs. “That is less urgent, probably, and I already have a theory or two. Travel back in time or from an alternate Singing seem the most likely. Right now I want to know what I need to do about whatever hurt you.”

She’d almost forgotten about when he was like this, when he genuinely cared for them and wasn’t lost to the grip of mania and paranoia. He’s so close already, at this point in the timeline, to falling into that, but perhaps that will change, too, if they can stop Morgoth.

“It was Melkor, Atar,” she says quietly. “A lot of things, but mostly Melkor. We have an idea of how to keep it from happening, and that’s why we came to see you. We’re going to need your help...and you’re probably not going to like the kind of help we need.”

[ask-sarah-and-co]

Merry Christmas + happy holidays @askpokepals!!!

(writing under cut! it turned out longer than intended ngl)

“Gah!”

A piece of paper flutters in the wind, smacking Sarah in the face. She quickly skims it over, “A wishlist?”

She looks up, watching a Hoopa’s ring shimmer away, and back to Hugh and Sparkle, who are battling fine together. “They won’t miss me for like an hour, will, they?”

Pulling out her aerodactyl Wyvern’s pokeball, she tosses him out and they fly off.

“Let’s see, something to decorate a clubhouse and something from a band…” She checks her phone’s map, “Wow, we’re almost in Galar! You’re a fast flier, bud!” Wyvern trills in agreement.

She stops at a store and picks up a pack of fairy lights, ones that twinkle between light shades of pink, blue, and purple. She also grabs a poster featuring Piers.

Sending out Wyvern again, she mounts his back. “To Spikemuth, Wyvern!”

“Sarah! Good to see ya.”

“Hi, Piers!”

He puts his phone in his pocket and ruffles her head affectionately, “How’s the Alola region treatin’ ya?”

“It’s been really nice! Everyone there is so relaxed, you know.”

“Heh, I figured. You run into Uncle Grimsley yet?”

“Yeah! He and Uncle Lucian are with Aunt Lusamine right now.”

“‘Right. Wish ‘im well from me ‘n Marnie, kay?”

She beams at her friend, “You got it!” She digs into her bag, pulling out the rolled up poster. “Could you do something for me, actually?”

“‘Course. Want that signed?”

“Yes.” She hands him the poster as he takes a black marker out from his pocket. “It’s for someone’s Christmas wishlist.”

“Ain’t it a bit early for that?”

“Yeah well,” She thinks for a second. “It’s probably from another universe or something.”

“Figures,” He scribbles his signature and hands the poster back. “I’ll never understand ‘em.”

Sarah checks her phone, “Oh shoot, I’ve gotta get going. Thanks a lot, Piers!”

“Cheers, Sarah. Was good to catch up.”

“Aunt Lusamine!” She bursts into the woman’s office, causing her to shut the holographic screens around her desk.

“Sarah! What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing.” She takes a deep breath, having dashed through Aether Paradise. “I wanted to know where you keep your wrapping paper?”

“Wrapping paper? Oh, for a present right?” She chuckles, “You bought a present for Rose and Giovanni’s wedding?”

“What? No. Actually maybe I should… But no. It’s a Christmas present.”

“Oh! Well we do have the materials, but I’m not certain we have any Christmas colors.”

“That’s fine! Just tell me where it is and I’ll get out of your hair!”

“They should be somewhere in the main entrance, probably around the desks.”

“Thanks, Aunt Lusamine!”

“Good luck, Sarah.”

“Hi, Uncle Lucian! Uncle Grimsley!”

She drops a bunch of materials, including a roll of wrapping paper and a spool of ribbon, across from them.

“Hey, Sarah.” Grimsley looks at the things she’s tossed on the table, “You’ve been busy, huh?”

“Yeah! I’ve been working on someone’s wishlist in an alternate universe!”

“That’s quite nice of you.” Lucian hardly looks up from the book he’s reading.

“Do you guys think I should write a card?” She doesn’t give them time to answer, “Oh Uncle Grimsley! Piers and Marnie say hi!”

“You saw Piers?” He checks his phone, “Only in the last hour?”

“Yep. Wyvern’s an alpha and flies really fast.”

“Wyvern?”

Lucian smiles, “Her aerodactyl.”

“Hm, that makes sense. I saw you flying around earlier…”

Sarah pulls a card out of her bag, one featuring a litten and a rockruff in Santa hats. 

Dear Ninasha,

Merry Christmas! Or happy holidays!

I hope you like what I got you! I wasn’t sure which band you liked, but I got this poster of my good friend Piers! He signed it and everything! It might be weird if you’re not a human, because he’s a human, but that should be fine, right?

Hope you like both things!

Love, Sarah

She places the card on the lights and speedily wraps and ties a ribbon around them. She makes sure to also tie a ribbon around the poster and add a tag.

Soon, the portal shimmers into existence above her, and she tosses both things in.

Sarah returns back outside, returning to her previous position. It’s almost like she never left at all.