#and I’ve been thinking about it for DAYS | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

trashytracktales · 2 days ago

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ong yes!! lando gotta loveeeee doggy and taking her against a wall!! But imagine her on top for the first time and not knowing how to ride him and him teaching him and telling her what to do! im asking this to santa !!

kill me now!!

Oh, Christmas treat | LN ⁴

💌 INSPIRED by anon ──── Why ask Santa when I'm literally right here... enjoy 💋

⤿ We're yapping about this ask.

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𐙚 summary ──── It's a quiet winter night, and Lando notices that his girlfriend seems a bit distracted. After some playful coaxing, she admits a secret desire to try something new. With his gentle guidance, they explore new paths together, each step bringing them closer.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, established relationship, fluff & smut, descriptive language, light teasing, themes of vulnerability, unprotected sex, reader's first time on top, bit of swearing.

𐙚 word count ──── 2.5k

𐙚 date ──── Dec. 24, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── I know this wasn’t a request per se, but I wanted to share this one-shot with you since it was already mostly ready to go. I’ve been dealing with some health issues recently and couldn't get myself to get anything done, so thank you for your patience. The rest of the requests are still on their (admittedly slow) way, but I promise they’re coming 🤞🏻 Wishing a very Merry Christmas Eve to everyone who celebrates, and who knows, I might have another little treat up my sleeve 👀

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THE DAY HAD been nothing out of the ordinary, but that was exactly what made it special.

Lando had woken up late, groggy but grinning satisfied when he caught her padding around the kitchen in fuzzy socks and an oversized sweater, humming along to Christmas songs. She loves the holiday season, because she likes it when he's home, and Lando doesn't have to be anywhere but their own apartment. That's exactly why she can't get upset when he streams with Max for hours in the night, and ends up sleeping in the next day. The simple fact that he's there is enough.

Maybe she conditioned herself to accept that, but then she sees his sleepy face and thinks she'd accept worse in order to share her mornings with him.

It's Christmas Eve, so they’d decided to bake cookies, mostly because she insisted it was a winter tradition, and Lando, ever the competitive spirit, took it as a challenge to see whose decorations would turn out better. As expected, chaos followed. By the time the cookies were ready, the kitchen looked like it had been through a snowstorm of flour and sugar. Lando had a streak of frosting on his cheek, and she had somehow ended up with sprinkles in her hair. In reality, they spent more time laughing and teasing each other than actually baking, but that was always the way it went with them.

Now, their cookies sit patiently on the counter, forgotten as the two of them relax on the couch in the living room. The Christmas tree lights glow warmly in the corner, and a cheesy holiday movie plays on the TV. They’re snuggled under a thick blanket, her legs curled up and tucked into his side. Lando’s arm drapes around her shoulders, his fingers playing lazily with her hair. It’s peaceful and comforting, but somewhere in the quiet, she feels a sudden pull in her chest.

In all the time they've been together, she never took the lead — not willingly, at least — feeling more than happy to surrender. She's been thinking about it for a long time, but she's never had the courage to do it. She doesn't feel intimidated or inhibited by her boyfriend, but rather by how it could all go wrong for both of them if she, somehow, ends up doing something she’s not supposed to.

Suddenly, her arms tighten around him, her nose nuzzling into his shirt. There’s a weight in her heart, not sadness exactly, but something tender, something raw. It makes her extra clingy, but she doesn’t say anything. She just holds him closer, hoping he won’t notice.

But Lando always notices.

His fingers pause in her hair, and his brows furrow slightly as he glances down at her. “You good, baby?” he asks, his voice soft and curious.

She hums nonchalantly, her face still buried in his chest.

“You sure?” Lando insists, his tone teasing but gentle.

The girl freezes for a moment, debating whether to brush it off, but before she can decide, he tilts her chin up with his fingers, making her look at him.

“Come on, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours, hm?” he asks, his eyes scanning hers.

Her cheeks heat under his gaze, and she sighs. “I don’t know. You just… feel extra nice to hold tonight,” she says quietly.

Lando blinks, then his grin widens, teasing again. “Didn’t know I had levels of cuddliness.”

“Oh, shut up,” she mumbles, hiding her face against his chest again.

His smile softens, and he wraps his arms around her fully, pulling her tighter against him. “Hey, you don’t wanna talk to me?”

She shakes her head and, at that, Lando stops pushing, knowing that whatever it is, she’ll come to him. Eventually. When she’s ready.

A few hours later, their movie marathon ends in a comfortable silence, the glow of the TV instantly muted by the credits rolling on the screen. Lando stretches, groaning softly as he shifts from the couch.

She gathers the blanket, folding it neatly before turning to him with a small smile.

“Bedtime?” she asks, her voice soft, almost reluctant to leave the warmth of the evening behind.

“Bedtime,” he agrees, though he watches her carefully as she heads toward the bedroom.

She moves through her usual routine, brushing her teeth and slipping into one of his hoodies, paired with sleep shorts. As she pulls back the covers and sits on the edge of the bed, he hears it again — the same quiet sigh that makes his chest tighten.

Lando leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, frowning in her direction. “Alright, that’s the second time tonight,” he says, his tone light but edged with curiosity. “Should I worry?”

“What?” she replies quickly, too quickly, as she gets ready to tuck herself under the duvet. “No, baby. It’s nothing.”

“Right,” says Lando, stepping closer, his lips curving into a mischievous grin. “If you won’t tell me, I’ll have to get it out of you another way.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “Lando…”

Before she can finish, he lunges, playfully grabbing her waist and threatening to tickle her sides. She squeals, trying to wiggle away, but his grip on her is firm.

“Last chance, I'm serious,” he warns, his laughter bubbling up as she giggles uncontrollably.

“Okay, fine, stop it!” she pleads, breathless, her face flushed.

Lando stops, pulling back just enough to sit on the edge of the bed. Then, with a gentle tug, he pulls her onto his lap. His arms wrap loosely around her waist, and he tilts his head, watching her with a mix of curiosity and concern.

“Now,” he says, happy that he managed to break her wall, “What’s going on?”

She hesitates, her cheeks turning pink as she avoids his gaze. Instead, her fingers find his curls at the back of his head, twisting them gently as she takes a deep breath. “You know, it’s not even a big deal. I’ve been thinking about something, but I just didn’t know how to bring it up.”

“Mhm,” he nods, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to her lips. It’s deep, slow, almost as if he’s trying to reassure her without words. When he pulls back, their foreheads touch, and he whispers, “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

She knows. Still, that doesn’t make it any easier. The heat rushes in her cheeks as she finally meets his eyes. “Look, I like when you’re on top. I mean, I really like it,” she says, stumbling slightly over her words. “But I was thinking, maybe, I’d like to, you know...”

Her voice trails off, and she looks away again, clearly embarrassed.

Lando blinks, letting her words sink in. His mouth opens slightly, but no sound comes out as a flush creeps up his neck. Then, a grin spreads across his face, equal parts flustered and excited.

“Yeah?” he asks, his voice soft, his hands tightening slightly on her waist. “You want to ride me, baby?”

She nods quickly, still twisting his curls nervously. “But I’ve never done it before, and I’m not sure I’d be good at it. It's just that—”

He exhales a chuckle, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. “Slow down,” he murmurs against her skin, his tone so tender that it makes her stomach flip. “You don’t have to worry about being good at it, baby. If you wat to try it, I can guide you, and we’ll see what works for us as we go.”

Her cheeks flush as she processes his reassurance, the tender way he’s looking at her making her feel bold and seen. And listened to.

She smiles, shifting on his lap, searching for some friction, and the slight brush of her core against his growing hardness has her letting out a soft gasp. Lando notices immediately, but he doesn’t say anything yet. Instead, he lets her take the lead at her own pace, on her own terms.

She shifts again, this time deliberately pressing herself against him, and the soft sound she makes has Lando’s self-control slipping. “I suppose we can try now?” he murmurs, his voice thick with heat.

She doesn’t reply — at least not with words. Instead, she grabs his hoodie, pulling it over her head in one swift motion, leaving her in nothing but her shorts. Lando’s breath catches as he takes her in, his hands immediately coming up to palm her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her hardened nipples. He's seen her naked so many times before, but somehow, every time she gets rid of her clothes she uncovers something new.

“So beautiful,” he mutters, leaning in to press open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone. She tilts her head back, giving him more access, and the heat between them builds until she pushes him gently onto the mattress.

Lando goes willingly, a grin tugging at his lips as she leans over him to kiss him again. His hands move to her hips, holding her firmly as she presses herself against him, grinding slowly. He groans into her mouth, his hands sliding lower to grip her ass, then he spreads her slightly, pushing her down against his growing length, making both of them gasp at the feeling.

Her hands trail down his chest, and she tugs at his shirt. “Off,” she breathes, and he obeys, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside. For a moment, she just looks at him, her hands tracing the defined lines of his chest.

The tension between them builds rapidly, their breaths mingling as they press closer. It doesn’t take long before she’s tugging at the waistband of her shorts, her nerves creeping back in as she pushes them down. Lando sits up slightly, watching her with darkened eyes, and when she glances at him nervously, he reaches out to stroke her thigh gently.

“You’re perfect,” he says softly, his voice full of sincerity.

Her nerves ease at his words, and when he pushes his joggers down, freeing himself, her anticipation drowns out her doubts.

He sits up fully, pulling her closer until she’s straddling him again. “Alright, love,” he murmurs, his hands steadying her hips. “Go slow, yeah? Just sit on me first. Take your time.”

She nods, biting her lip as she lines herself up with him. Slowly, she sinks down, feeling the stretch as he fills her inch by sweet inch. Her breath hitches, and Lando groans, his hands gripping her hips tighter.

“Oh, fuck,” he rasps. “You always feel so good.”

She pauses once he’s fully inside, her hands braced on his chest as she adjusts to the feeling of being so full of him. Sensing her nervousness, Lando rubs soothing circles on her hips, letting her take her time.

When she finally starts to move, lifting herself up slightly before sinking back down, a soft, shaky moan escapes her lips. Lando watches her with a mix of awe and hunger, his hands guiding her gently.

“Just like that, baby,” he encourages her, “Easy. You’re doing so well.”

Slowly but surely, she manages to build a rhythm, her movements tentative at first. But as the pleasure starts invading her senses, she becomes bolder. She opens up more, craving all of him at once. Her hands slide back to grip his thighs for support as she leans back slightly, the new angle sending sparks of pleasure through her body.

The taste of power it's rather interesting in this position, and she can’t afford to be shy anymore. Not when his cock feels so good inside her, and not when she decides how to take him.

“Fuck, Lando,” she breathes, her head tilting back.

She begins to move more rapidly on top of him, her hips following a predetermined path that she wasn't even aware of before. Lando watches her in amazement, feeling every pulse of pleasure every time she comes back for more, her walls hugging his cock so tightly that it leaves him breathless.

He groans, his hands sliding up to her waist to steady her. “That’s it, baby. Keep going. God, you’re going to make me cum so fast like this.”

The sight of her riding him, her body moving with such confidence now, nearly breaks him. Somehow, he resists the urge to thrust up into her, letting her stay in control, but his grip tightens as his restraint begins to fray.

He hears a silent cry, getting ready for every scenario in his mind, while his eyes study her frame by frame.

She whimpers, her movements becoming more erratic as the pleasure overwhelms her. “Lan,” she gasps, her voice shaky. “I can’t go—too much.”

He sits up slightly, pulling her towards him and pressing his forehead to hers. “Of course you can, baby,” he says softly, his voice steady despite the fire coursing through him. “I’m here. Just a little more, yeah? You’re doing so good.”

She feels his cock twitching inside her as she shakes her head weakly, “Lando, please…” her hands desperately clutch his shoulders, and that's when he understands what she needs from him.

Lando's hands land on her waist again, gripping at her firmly, and he starts to guide her harder on his cock while thrusting up into her simultaneously, meeting her halfway. The sudden change in rhythm makes her cry out, her nails digging into his skin.

“Yes,” she moans, her head dropping onto his shoulder as he drives her higher. “It’s so good, fuck. I’m—”

“That’s it,” he growls, his voice tinged with exhaustion. “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.”

So she does, her body trembling as the pleasure crests and crashes over her. He follows seconds later, his movements growing erratic before he stills inside her, holding her tightly against him as they both ride out their highs, breathing each other’s air. They stay tangled together, bodies still pressed close as the intensity of their orgasms fades away.

Lando brushes a strand of her hair away from her damp forehead, his lips curling into a soft smile. “You okay there?” he asks, his voice a gentle rasp.

She nods against him, her body still warm and buzzing. “Mhm, ‘m okay,” she murmurs, tilting her head up to meet his gaze.

He grins, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “You did so well, baby. Made me proud.”

She lets out a breathless laugh, her head dropping back onto his shoulder. “Cheers,” she trails off, playfully groaning. “But that was so much work. My fucking thighs are on fire.”

Lando laughs, the sound deep and rich. “Oh, you poor thing,” he teases, stroking her back soothingly.

She swats at his chest, unable to hold back her grin. “I’m serious! It’s a full-body workout being on top.”

He hums thoughtfully, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on her skin. “So what you’re saying is…” he starts, tilting his head with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “I get to be in charge again next time?”

She pulls back to look at him, her cheeks flushing, but there’s a playful sparkle in her eyes. “You won't hear me complaining,” she quips, biting her lip to suppress her laughter.

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

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vampiefemme · 2 days ago

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Idk if your requests are open but I keep thinking of Vi being over at your house for Christmas, but she's too horny and it's very very hard for her to keep her hands off yourself, she ends up fucking you in the bathroom like you're on the counter trying to keep quiet cuz you wouldn't hear the end of it if your family found out 😫 (I am begging pls I need Vi do to that to me)

bitch, you read my mind because this is all i’ve been thinking about these past few days. i’m a little drunk so forgive me for not writing anything substantial, but ugh.

i need vi at a family christmas gathering. she’s charming and sweet and funny, bringing a homemade dish to the christmas party (she spent hours agonizing over it being perfect), maybe a handle of liquor if your family gets down like that. maybe it’s her first christmas with your family, so she’s determined to make a good impression. and she does - she’s a riot. she cracks countless jokes during the white elephant gift exchange, she makes a killer cocktail for your tipsy relatives, she even washes dishes when they pile up too high in the sink. she’s an absolute hit.

but you know what? it’s hard for her to be such a good, upstanding first-time-at-christmas girlfriend when you’re in a skirt and thigh-high socks, sauntering around with your tits bouncing beneath a glittery festive top. it’s hard when she has you taste-test your relative’s dirty martini, and you roll your eyes back with an exaggerated moan. it’s tough when you’re looking so comfortable, so happy, so at home.

so she follows you up to the bathroom when you announce to the family that you need to take a piss, too much cider and mulled wine in your system. she stumbles into the bathroom with you, catches you with your skirt half-tugged down your hips, pulls you in for a hungry, nasty, dirty kiss. you taste like liquor and mashed potatoes and green beans, but fuck, it’s good. she pushes you onto the counter, spreads your legs. and when she eats you out on the countertop of your childhood bathroom, her hand pressed to your mouth to stifle your moans, she knows she’s made quite an impression.

#vi x reader fic #vi smut #vi x reader #vi headcanon #vi fanfiction #vi arcane #vi arcane smut #violet arcane #stella’s asks #stella is drunk check!

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amirasainz · 2 days ago

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Hey girl

So I got inspired by the whole Bella Hadid and Prince of Qatar thing. What if driver!reader is the one the Prince has a crush on and the other drivers become overprotectiv???

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💕

Princess of Qatar

It was a strange feeling to be the center of attention, especially when the attention came from one of the wealthiest and most powerful men in the world. Yn was used to the spotlight—after all, she was a Formula 1 driver for Red Bull, an extremely talented one at that. But this… this was different. It wasn’t just the press or the fans; it was him. The Prince of Qatar.

It had all started innocently enough. She’d arrived in Qatar two weeks ahead of the GP for a promotional event, and as a result, she’d spent more time than usual with the prince. He was charming, kind, and nothing short of a gentleman. They’d spent evenings talking about everything from racing to their favorite films, and his interest in her was genuine. Or at least, that’s what Yn had thought at first.

But the internet had other ideas. Rumors began to swirl—first as whispers, then as headlines. The two were seen together so frequently that fans started speculating. Were they dating? Was the prince falling for her? The rumors only got louder when someone snapped a picture of the two of them laughing together in a private conversation.

And then, it happened. A report surfaced suggesting that the prince might be interested in marrying Yn. The internet went into overdrive. Fans, tabloids, and gossip outlets all had a field day, creating hashtags, memes, and theories. It didn’t help that Yn had once posted a picture of her hand next to his, joking about "a future championship ring" and how “it’s the only ring I’d ever need.”

As the days passed, the drivers all started noticing the online buzz. And they weren't having it.

---

Charles was the first to notice.

It was late at night, and he was scrolling through his phone in his hotel room when a post about Yn and the prince came up. He immediately clicked on it, thinking it was just another rumor. But as he scrolled through the pictures of Yn and the prince, looking so natural together, he felt a knot in his stomach.

“What is this?” Charles muttered to himself. “This is going too far.”

He kept scrolling, getting increasingly frustrated as each article came up with more speculation. Finally, he tossed his phone onto the bed and let out a deep sigh. He had to do something.

---

George was, unsurprisingly, not far behind.

The next morning, at breakfast, he slid into the seat next to Charles, who was already staring at his phone. He raised an eyebrow.

“You know about the rumors, right?” George asked.

Charles nodded, his brow furrowed.

“It’s getting out of hand.”

“I know,” George replied, now looking serious. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while. And I’ve come to a conclusion.”

Charles turned to him, confused. “What do you mean?”

George pulled out his laptop, opened a PowerPoint presentation, and turned it toward Charles. On the first slide was the title: "Why Yn Shouldn’t Become a Princess."

“George, are you seriously making a PowerPoint about this?” Charles asked incredulously.

George nodded, scrolling through the slides. “I’ve got points, Charles.”

The first slide was about the prince’s wealth and the pressure of becoming a royal. “The prince might have power, but would Yn be happy in that world?” George said, pointing at the next slide.

Charles groaned, burying his face in his hands. “You’re joking, right?”

“No, seriously,” George continued. “Number two: the media pressure. She won’t have any privacy. She’ll be constantly hounded, and it could affect her career. Imagine the headlines every time she races. ‘Princess of F1.’”

Charles rubbed his temples. “You’re insane.”

But George wasn’t done yet. He was already on the third slide: “Formula 1 Comes First”. “And lastly, we all know that racing is her first love. The prince can’t compete with that.”

Charles gave up, laughing despite himself. “Alright, alright, I get it. But maybe just... stop making PowerPoints, yeah?”

George shrugged, undeterred. “No promises.”

---

Meanwhile, Carlos and Max were taking a more direct approach.

“Max, we need to talk.” Carlos said as he walked into Max’s hotel room, closing the door behind him.

Max was leaning against the window, eyes narrowed, watching the hustle of the city below.

“About Yn and the prince?” Max said without turning around.

Carlos nodded. “I think we need to keep an eye on her.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “You think so?”

“I mean, it’s not just the prince. It’s everything. The media. The fans. It’s all happening so fast. We need to protect her.”

Max finally turned, his usual nonchalance replaced with a rare seriousness. “You want us to act like bodyguards?”

Carlos nodded. “Basically.”

Max exhaled, then shrugged. “Fine. But only because we have to.”

And so, the next day, both Max and Carlos found themselves trailing Yn from a distance, keeping an eye on her as she went about her day. To anyone else, they looked like two guys casually hanging out. But in reality, they were her silent bodyguards, watching her every move without saying a word.

---

Lando, on the other hand, couldn’t help himself.

He had been spending more time with Yn recently, so he decided to confront her directly. He caught up with her after a practice session at the track.

“Hey, Yn.” Lando said, his eyes wide with curiosity. “What’s going on with you and the prince?”

Yn smirked, leaning against a wall as she wiped the sweat off her brow. “Oh, nothing. We’re just friends.”

“Just friends?” Lando repeated, raising an eyebrow. “You guys have been all over the news. There’s even talk about marriage.”

Yn chuckled. “Lando, come on. People love to make stuff up. We’re just friends.”

“But why are you hanging out with him so much?” Lando asked, his eyes narrowing in on her.

Yn laughed again. “You’re just jealous that I get to hang out with a prince, aren’t you?”

Lando threw his hands up in defeat. “I’m not jealous. I’m just... concerned.”

Yn patted him on the shoulder, her smile wide. “I’ll be fine, Lando. I promise.”

---

Finally, Lewis had his turn.

After hearing about the situation from the others, he decided it was time to have a quiet, heart-to-heart conversation with Yn. He found her by the pool, her legs dipped into the water, enjoying the rare moments of calm before the chaos of race weekend.

“Hey, Yn. Can we talk?” Lewis said, taking a seat beside her.

Yn turned to him, her expression softening. “Of course, Lewis. What’s up?”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.” Lewis said, looking at her with concern. “All this attention... it’s a lot. And I know it’s coming from everywhere. You’ve got a lot of people worried about you.”

Yn smiled gently. “I’m fine, Lewis. Seriously. I’m not letting any of this get to me. I know what I want, and I’m not going to let anyone else dictate that.”

Lewis nodded, his face softening. “Just... take care of yourself, yeah? And if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

Yn leaned over and gave him a playful nudge. “Thanks, Lewis. You’re a good friend.”

---

Race weekend finally arrived, and the tension among the drivers was palpable. The rumors about Yn and the prince still lingered, but the drivers had all done their best to protect her in their own ways.

As they all gathered in the paddock before the race, Yn finally stood up and addressed them all.

“Alright, alright, I’ve had enough of this.” Yn said, raising her hands in surrender. “The prince and I are just friends. That’s it.”

The drivers exchanged glances, some of them sighing in relief, others looking a bit embarrassed for their overprotectiveness.

“That’s all?” Lando asked, still skeptical.

Yn grinned. “That’s all. Now, can we focus on the race? I have a championship to win, remember?”

The drivers let out a collective sigh, and Charles clapped his hands together. “Alright, alright, let’s get back to business then.”

As they walked to the grid, the rumors faded into the background, and the only thing that mattered was the race ahead. But as Yn smiled to herself, she couldn’t help but appreciate the way her teammates cared for her. In the end, she knew they’d always have her back—no matter what the internet said.

And that, she thought, was all that really mattered.

#formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #xoxo babygirl 💋#charles leclerc x reader #george russell x reader #carlos sainz x reader #max verstappen x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #lando norris x reader #female!driver #driver!reader

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henry7931 · 2 days ago

Text

Chase:

Today is a really weird day and I didn’t know how I would feel about coming over to my best friend Bryce’s house especially after the incident.

Bryce and I have been friends for over 12 years now and him and I have always been a couple of scrawny gay nerds. We both love Minecraft legend of Zelda, just about every video game you can think of and one way we really bonded was figuring out that we are both gay.

Now for years, I’ve always known that Bryce had a crush on me. For me it was never that I didn’t like Bryce or I was never interested, but I never wanted to ruin the friendship. But then you have Walker is older brother. Walker is a few years older than us. He’s super handsome, athletic, charming, he could basically date anyone he laid his eyes on.

The truth is Walker was my sexual awakening for years. I’ve stayed at their house and spent the night and it wouldn’t be uncommon to see Walker come out and nothing but basketball shorts hell I don’t even think he would wear underwear sometimes.

I can remember the way seeing him made me blush, and I tried my hardest not to stare at him. I don’t know if Walker could tell that I was checking him out. Or maybe Walker was just used to people checking him out shouldn’t be any surprise that his little brother‘s gay friend had his eyes glued to him.

And somehow he continues to keep getting hotter and hotter and hotter…

So several weeks ago, Bryce and Walker’s family went on vacation to some tropical island. And something very strange happened while touring an old temple. How Bryce explained it to me was that they had a sign up that specifically said, “ please do not touch artifact.”

Bryce can be such a stickler for rules and I can almost see it in my head. It all went down. Bryce told Walker not to touch it. Walker likes to get on Bryce‘s nerves Walker reaches for it and then shit got real quick. Because Walker and Bryce have now switched bodies.

When Bryce was explaining all this to me, I really thought it was bullshit. I mean, who would believe that that sounds like something from a movie and yet even hearing Walker‘s voice, I can tell just by the tone that it’s Bryce.

So today is the first day that I have seen Bryce since he swapped bodies with Walker. And that’s why I feel all kinds of weird.

Now Bryce and I have stayed with each other like 1 million times and it’s really not unusual for us to be basically naked around each other. OK maybe not completely naked but like at least in her underwear.

And I have tried really, really hard to make him feel comfortable and I think I’m doing a really good job but having him standing in front of me in just his brother’s boxers is driving me a bit insane.

I’m sitting on Bryce‘s bed and walks back into his room just to ask me if I wanted anything from downstairs like something to drink or maybe a snack. I can barely get out the words because I can’t stop staring at the chiseled God in front of me.

“ chase you’re staying the night right?,” he asked me.

“ oh yeah, of course I’m staying the night as long as that’s OK.”

“ yeah man of course it’s okay! You know it’s okay man. No one cares you stay the night. You’re like basically family sides. My brother isn’t going to be home tonight. He’s wanted a lot of space since the whole. I’ve got his body thing. And both my parents are out of town so it’s just gonna be us,” he says with a side smirk.

“ well if it’s just us what do you wanna get into tonight?,” I say trying to make conversation.

I’m holding my eye contact directly at his face and I try my hardest not to look anywhere else, but he takes his hand and start scratching his balls and I can almost feel my whole cock twitch.

“ I mean since everybody’s not here tonight, we can always break into my parents liquor cabinet, whoop whoop!”

You know I am probably the most innocent 18 year-old alive, I don’t wanna attend parties nor do I really sneak around my parents but I feel like alcohol sounds like a great idea right now. I mean it I might be able to calm down a bit.

“Hell yeah! That’s sounds fun!,” I say with some enthusiasm.

“Bet! Be right back!”

I hear as heavy feet running down the stairs and all I can do is try to think of something that would totally turn me off like anything taxes, my grandparents, just something…

And yet all I can think about is how hot it would be if I could suck on his toes. I’ve had a thing for feet a while now and it’s taking me a little bit to accept it and a part of that I blame Walker for him because he has some sexy ass feet.

I can remember clearly the smell of his feet after he would finish football practice and he would pull off his shoes. Shit! Fuck! I’m so hard right now. I feel like I’m gonna have to sneak away and beat one out in the bathroom just to clear my head.

And then here comes Bryce with two glasses in his hand and a bottle of wine for the both of us just super eager.

I reposition myself to where I’m laying flat on my stomach so he doesn’t notice.

Bryce hops on to the bed with me and try’s his hardest to navigate a wine opener.

“Geez, I have no clue what I’m doing here…”

I eventually take it and started twisting in. I try to pull it out but struggle.

“Here since you now have all of the muscles.”

He rolls his eyes at me and tugs it out.

“Success!”

“Good team work there he-man,” I say playfully.

Bryce’s pours both of us a glass and at first I thought it tasted awful. But the second glass… now I see why people like it. I feel so warm inside and relaxed.

We both lay back in his bed.

“Is it super weird for you?,” I ask him.

“What?”

“You know… being in your Walkers body.”

“Um… yes. Yes and no I guess. I feel like everything has just moved so quick since the trip. I feel very different in public, like I’m so much more noticed. girls hit on me… so do guys. It’s a lot to take in especially since you and my family are the only ones who know about it.”

“What about Walker’s girlfriend?”

“Oh he broke up with her, thought it would be less weird. Although he had to do it over text because I refused to call or see her in person.”

“Damn! That’s crazy.”

“Yeah but she was like his girlfriend for the month, nothing serious.”

Of course…

“So is this pretty permanent?”

“Yeah I think so, unless you know of any other magic objects than can reverse it haha.”

“No, not off of the top of my head,”I say jokingly.

“Well… that answers your question. This is my body now. This is the new me I guess,” he says looking his muscles over.

I look them over as well and then my eyes draw this briefs… he’s got a hard on…

Bryce catches my eyes and says, “you wanna touch it?”

“What?!?”

“Come on Chase… don’t play games with me. I know you and I know you’ve had the hots for this body. I’ve known for years now.”

I take a deep breath… I feel my nervous all over again.

“It’s okay, I know you like this body. It’s my body now. And I want you to touch my massive dick.”

“But Bryce!”

“Shhh! Chase I’ve had a crush on you for years and I know you would never fool around with me. And now I have the body you’ve been lusting for years now. TOUCH MY MASSIVE DICK PLEASE!”

“Fuck, okay.”

I start touching it from the outside and it does feel huge!

“You know I love you Bryce, you’re the most important person to me. I just never wanted us to loose our friendship. It’s why I never tried anything with you.”

“I know. And listen I know you weren’t trying to go after my brother. I know what he looks like. Everyone does. But now I have the body and the personality so, I’m giving you no choice but to date me. Got it?”

“Ugh fine,” I say rolling my eyes.

“Now can you do me a favor?”

“Sure!”

“Can I see your feet?” he says to me.

Wow! Wasn’t expecting that!

“Wait why?”

“I hope you don’t think this is weird but I have a thing for them.”

“Shut up! So do I!”

“You do?!?”

“Yeah especially…,” I eye down to his feet and wiggles his toes.

“Oh my god! This is about to be a wild night!”

“Wait, can I kiss you?”

“Please!”

Part 2 Coming…

#body swap #male tf #male body swap #brothers

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puraiuddo · 3 days ago

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To anyone still doubting the likelihood of an injury happening to you:

I work for the USA gov’t as a disability examiner for social security disability benefits and I am telling you point blank that I have cases all the time where people have been injured by chiropractors.

People will go in for back or shoulder pain and walk out with “a headache that has never gone away since”, vertigo, herniated discs, dislocations, permanent nerve damage, etc.

I’d hazard to say that it’s literally about a 50/50 chance on whether or not a chiropractor injures a person worse or doesn’t help at all. I think I’ve seen maybe one case where someone said they may have felt some improvement with treatment and I literally spend my entire day looking at medical records and have processed hundreds of cases.

Don’t fuck with chiropractors.

It astounds me that you can post something deeply personal and traumatic about almost dying at the hands of a chiropractor and sustaining lifelong damage that negatively impacts your daily life to a debilitating degree, and people will still send irate messages like, “well I can’t afford a doctor so what am I supposed to do? Just not let chiropractors crack my neck?!”

And it’s like worstie, whether you can afford a doctor or not won’t fucking matter if the chiropractor fucks up your entire life because if what happened to me happens to you, you’re fucked and if you want to live you’ll end up paying much much more than what seeing a physical therapist would have cost you in the first place.

My PT is mostly covered by insurance these days. But without it the bill is $300.

The damage the chiropractor has cost me? Well it was 6 grand for the first emergency MRI which my insurance didn’t cover, several grand in doctors appointments to be told I’m fucked for the rest of my life and basically just thousands of dollars a month in rehab that I honestly can’t afford to keep me from killing myself from the pain while plunging myself and my husband into further insurmountable medical debt because he refuses to let me go.

So you tell me. Do you want to eat the cost of that initial physical therapy appointment now so you can learn to properly manage your neck pain without letting someone crack it? Or do you want to wait and end up like me. Because I guarantee you, it’s a waiting game. Chiros only have to fuck up once.

Once is enough.

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zhelin-thames · 23 hours ago

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A different "A Second Mystery Texter"

Masterpost

Tim Drake had been subtly keeping an eye on Jason’s behavior. The Red Hood rarely smiled at his phone unless he was planning something chaotic, so Tim’s curiosity was piqued.

“Who are you texting?” Tim asked casually, leaning against the doorway.

Jason didn’t even look up. “None of your business.”

Tim’s eyes narrowed. “You’re grinning. That’s suspicious.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “It’s just some kid who texted me by mistake. Chill, Drake.”

Tim tilted his head. “A kid? You’re texting a kid?”

Jason groaned. “He’s not that young. Teenager, I think. And he’s got some... interesting problems.”

Tim’s curiosity only grew. He waited until Jason left his phone unattended to grab a drink, then swooped in. The most recent messages caught his attention immediately.

“‘Plasmius’? Ghosts? Supernatural hotspot?” Tim muttered, scrolling. “Oh, this is good.”

A Few Hours Later

Danny was sitting on his bed, scrolling through memes, when his phone buzzed.

Unknown Number: Hey, is this Danny?

Danny frowned.

Danny: Uh, yeah. Who’s asking?

Unknown Number: Tim Drake. Jason mentioned you.

Danny blinked. Who the heck was Tim Drake?

Danny: Jason told someone about me? What, is he running a support group now?

Tim: Not exactly. I just wanted to know more about you. Ghosts, supernatural stuff—it’s not every day you meet someone who deals with that kind of thing.

Danny hesitated. He hadn’t expected Jason to share his existence with anyone, let alone someone who sounded this... professional.

Danny: Well, I don’t “deal” with it. I kinda live it. Long story.

Tim: I’ve got time.

Danny groaned. Why do I always attract the curious ones?

Meanwhile, in the Batcave

Jason walked back into the room, drinking a soda, and immediately noticed Tim glued to his phone.

“Drake, what are you doing?” Jason asked suspiciously.

Tim glanced up with a smug grin. “Just making a new friend.”

Jason narrowed his eyes. “If you’re texting Danny, I swear—”

Tim interrupted him. “Relax. I just want to know more about him. He seems... interesting.”

Jason grabbed his phone and checked his messages. Sure enough, Danny had texted:

Danny: Did you give my number to someone named Tim? Because he just messaged me out of nowhere.

Jason: Drake stole your number. Ignore him.

Danny: Too late. He’s already asking about ghosts.

Jason glared at Tim. “Stay out of this, Drake.”

Tim smirked. “You’re just mad I got to him first. Besides, he could be useful. A kid dealing with supernatural threats? He might need someone with actual resources.”

Jason groaned. “You’re gonna scare him off.”

Tim shrugged. “We’ll see.”

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fanfictionismyaddiction · 2 days ago

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A Christmas Surprise

Word count: 570

Pairing: lando Norris x reader

Summary: Y/n plans a special Christmas surprise for Lando, keeping him in the dark about the gift that will change their little family forever.

Marry Christmas guys

________________________________________________________

The living room shimmered with the soft glow of Christmas lights. Y/n stood by the tree, her heart pounding with nervous excitement. In her arms, a tiny corgi puppy squirmed, its big brown eyes full of curiosity. The little red bow around its neck made it look like the perfect gift—which it was.

She glanced at the clock. Lando would be home any minute.

“Okay, little guy,” she whispered, gently scratching behind his ears. “Let’s hope he loves you as much as I do.”

The sound of keys jingling in the door made her freeze. She quickly placed the puppy on the couch, crouching beside it to steady her breathing. The door creaked open, and there he was—Lando, cheeks flushed pink from the winter cold, his usual bright smile lighting up the room.

“Hey, love,” he said, setting his bag down and shrugging off his coat. His gaze moved to the tree, then back to her. “The place looks amazing. You’ve been busy, huh?”

“Maybe,” Y/n replied, grinning. “I’ve been working on something special.”

“Something special, huh?” he teased, walking toward her and pulling her into a hug. “You’ve been hyping up this surprise all day. Are you finally going to tell me what it is?”

“Not quite,” Y/n said, laughing as she pulled back. “But I can show you. Close your eyes.”

Lando raised an eyebrow but obeyed, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

“Okay, no peeking,” Y/n warned, her voice soft. She scooped up the puppy, holding him gently as she positioned him in Lando’s arms. The tiny corgi let out a little yip, startling Lando.

“Alright,” she said, her voice trembling with excitement. “Open them.”

Lando’s eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, he just stared. The little corgi looked up at him, its tiny tail wagging furiously.

“Y/n…” he breathed, his voice catching in his throat. He cradled the puppy closer, as if afraid it might disappear. “Is this… is this real?”

“It’s real,” she said softly, tears prickling her eyes at the wonder on his face. “He’s ours.”

Lando’s gaze flicked to her, his blue eyes shimmering with emotion. “You got us a puppy?”

“Well,” Y/n said, a bit nervously, “you never really said what kind of dog you wanted. You just said you wanted a puppy. And… I’ve always wanted a corgi. So I thought maybe this would be perfect for both of us.”

Lando let out a shaky laugh, nuzzling the corgi’s soft fur. “Perfect doesn’t even begin to cover it. He’s amazing.” He paused, looking back at Y/n with a soft smile. “You’re amazing.”

Her cheeks warmed as she leaned in, resting her head on his shoulder while the puppy squirmed happily between them. “I just wanted to do something special for you,” she said quietly. “You work so hard, and I know how much you’ve been wanting this.”

Lando kissed the top of her head, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t care what kind of dog we have. As long as I have you—and now this little guy—I’m happy.”

The puppy let out another enthusiastic bark, as if agreeing with the sentiment. Lando laughed, the sound warm and full of love, and Y/n couldn’t help but smile.

“What should we name him?” Lando asked, rubbing the puppy’s tiny belly.

“I was thinking Turbo,” Y/n said. “You know, a little nod to your love of racing.”

Lando chuckled. “Turbo it is. Welcome to the family, Turbo.”

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ivyues · 1 day ago

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Dreaming of Peaches - Bang Chan

Bang Chan has a dream of little curls and your eyes.

It had been a strange day. Chris had been acting a bit off, nothing too alarming, but enough for you to notice. He was quieter than usual, his touches lingering just a bit longer, as though he was lost in thought every time he looked at you. It wasn’t unusual for him to have moments of introspection, but today felt... different.

Later that evening, as you were settled in your bed, you felt his arms snake around your waist from behind. He pulled you close, his chin resting on your shoulder. His hand, warm and steady, came to rest on your stomach. It was comforting, and yet, there was a nervous energy about him.

“Chris,” you murmured, placing your hand over his. “Are you okay? You’ve been... distant today.”

There was a pause. You felt him shift slightly, his hand retreating as if it had been caught somewhere it wasn’t meant to be. That small movement made you turn around to face him. His eyes flicked away, uncharacteristically avoiding yours. That alone was enough to make you tilt your head in confusion.

“Hey,” you said softly, taking his hand in yours. “What’s going on? You know you can tell me anything if you want.”

His lips parted, but no words came out at first. He looked almost embarrassed, his ears tinged pink, and he ran a hand through his hair before meeting your gaze. “I... I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s... kind of silly, really.”

Your reassuring look must have encouraged him, because he sighed and began to ramble. “I had this dream last night. You were pregnant... and we had a little girl. She was running around, and she had my stupid curly hair and your eyes. And – I don’t know – it felt so real. When I woke up, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I don’t want you to feel pressured, or like I’m... pushing something on you, or that—”

“Chris,” you interrupted gently, squeezing his hand. He stopped mid-sentence, looking at you with wide, almost vulnerable eyes. “I don’t know what the future holds for us,” you admitted, your voice steady. “But if it’s with you, I’m not scared.”

There was a beat of silence before a smile broke across his face, soft and boyish. “She had your eyes,” he repeated, a hint of awe in his voice. “And the curliest little head of hair, just like mine. And—” He chuckled, his voice warming with amusement. “you had this little baby bump. Like, the cutest little bump I’ve ever seen.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling the tension dissolve into something tender and warm. “The bump, huh? That’s what stood out to you?”

Chris’ ears turned a shade pinker as he grinned sheepishly. “I mean, yeah. You were glowing, and you kept resting your hands on it like it was the most precious thing in the world. I guess it just stuck with me.”

You looked at him thoughtfully, gently brushing a strand of his hair away. “Dreams can be silly, but can also hold wants of the heart. If ours don’t align, we should always be honest with each other. No matter what.”

Chris’s smile widened, and he leaned in to kiss your forehead. “You’re right. And hey, don’t worry, I’ve already got seven kids to take care of,” he said with a mischievous grin.

You laughed then raised an eyebrow, a thought hitting you. “By the way… what did we name the child?”

Chris paused for a moment, then let out a dramatic sigh. “I think we called her … Peaches,” he said, grinning like he had just solved the biggest mystery of the century.

You blinked at him, unable to hold back your laughter. “Peaches? Really?”

“Hey, it was your idea,” he teased, winking.

You gasped, still laughing, and held up your hands in protest. "Nonono, we are not naming our kid something like that," you said, eyes wide with disbelief.

Chris chuckled, the mischievous glint in his eyes never fading as you protested. But before you could argue further, he leaned in, silencing you with a gentle kiss. His lips were soft, a mix of affection and amusement, and the warmth of his touch sent a ripple of calm through you.

Shaking his head he mouthed the words "our kid" – almost as if he was testing the idea out in his own mind, as if it was too surreal for him to say aloud.

#bang chan imagines #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #bang chan scenarios #stray kids scenarios #bang chan #stray kids #skz #skz scenarios #skz x reader #skz x you #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #skz fluff #bang chan fluff #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #stray kids fluff

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its-your-mind · 41 minutes ago

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Hey so I really appreciate you coming over and helping me edit my college essays, you were totally right, a lifetime of negotiating treaties has made you scary-good at this, but before you head out I need to tell you something. Nono, I’m not planning on moving away for school, and I still want you to keep coming over to help with my work if you still want to. It’s just for the past few months I’ve been having these really vivid dreams about the fantasy world you tell me stories about sometimes? And for a while I thought they were just dreams that I was making up based on the stories you told, but I had a dream a few nights ago where we were up late at night together sitting side by side at a desk lit by a werelight and pouring over a piece of paper, trying to negotiate freedom for our captured warriors. Yeah I said ‘our.’

And then you came here today and while you were editing you talked about that treaty, the treaty I had dreamed about days ago before you had mentioned it, and it finally hit me that my dreams are… are my memories from that fantasy world, coming back. I think. I Hope. And I don’t know what to do with that, because if I’m honest I love you even though I shouldn’t, and it doesn’t feel like a love that grew just from sitting with you over calculus, it feels like a love that grew out of knowledge and trust and secrets and time and sacrifice. But I still feel seventeen? And you still look eighteen, even though I know you’re not really, but I just. There’s this hole in my heart that’s been getting bigger and bigger and I’m pretty sure it’s the space you used to fill, and I miss you even though you’re right here and I was just um. Oh. Yeah, yes please, please you can kiss me if you want, I keep seeing it in my dreams and wanting it so bad and– hmph!

Hey so that was a great date, yeah, but I don't think it's going to work out. Nono you didn't do anything wrong, and I have indeed had a crush on you since we started high school, it's just... well, I didn't want to bring it up at the time but we kinda got sucked into a portal fantasy midway through. We saved the kingdom over and over, relying on our knowledge of and trust in each other every time, throwing ourselves into the firing line to protect each other and using each others' conviction as a rock. We got married and lived a happy life together until the portal sucked us back mid-battle and you gave up all your memories of our journey in order to save my life right when we ended up back in the coffee shop. Yeah that was when I got a bit weird and went to the bathroom.

Anyway I thought we could push on and make the date work but I have all of these memories of secrets that this you never chose to share, decisions that this you never made, and intimacies that this you never experienced. And it's kind of screwing with the vibe yeah. Also on the date it was really, blatantly clear that you're sixteen whereas I have memories of ruling a fantasy kingdom for thirty years so like... that's a problem all on its own. Anyway this you just feels more like a daughter to me. A daughter with the woman I gave my heart and soul to over and over and received like in return, only to lose her forever on the journey home. On the plus side I can definitely help you with your math homework now.

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klaasje · 3 days ago

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‘i’ve been told it’s a mediocrity i possess’ has the potential to be suuuuuch a devastating lesbian klaasje line… i love the implication that she’s stuck in a permanent state of discomfort that she has trained herself to withstand. disconnected to the point where she doesn’t even KNOW if she likes the way she looks, or her hair, or the clothes she’s wearing, because she burned those preferences away like that urban myth about career criminals burning their fingerprints off with acid. her life is one long joyless performance. meeting harry & kim probably made her sick with envy for reasons she couldn’t explain... watching hdb run around in fuck me bell bottoms/alligator loafers along with kim ‘i tailored this aerostatic crewman’s outfit myself’ kitsuragi meanwhile she’s wearing the same anonymous party girl clothes she bought in jamrock the day her flight landed. and in my head part of ruby’s initial allure was how unapologetically butch she is, how she managed to retain such a strong sense of self despite everything. which made klaasje feel stupid & immature in comparison & also drew her in… and unearthed certain feelings, sealed for years in permafrost, such as “i can’t believe she looks like that” and “could i look like that” and “i want her to look at me”. i think klaasje is drawn to people with strong personalities because she desperately misses her own, and is very lonely. so she settles for the next best thing, which is being near people like lely and ruby (and harry & kim, despite their copness). sort of like a contact high

#playing with my dolls again excuse me…#op

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lizziesangel · 9 hours ago

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thinking of rafe cameron helping you to fall asleep

the gentle hum of the air conditioning was the only sound breaking the silence of the bedroom. you lay sprawled on your side, staring at the digital clock on the nightstand. 2:47 am. you groaned softly, turning onto your back, frustrated with your inability to fall asleep for the third night in a row.

beside you, rafe stirred. his golden hair was tousled, and his breathing had been deep and even—until now. his arm slid across your stomach, pulling you closer.

“baby,” he mumbled, voice gravelly with sleep. “what’s wrong? you keep moving.”

you hesitated. you hadn’t wanted to wake him up. “sorry. i just… i can’t sleep.”

he propped himself up on one elbow, concern flickering in his blue eyes even in the dim light. “again?”

you nodded, biting your lip. “i don’t know what’s wrong. i feel tired, but the moment i lie down, my brain won’t shut up.”

rafe frowned thoughtfully, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “what’s on your mind?”

“nothing specific. it’s like my thoughts are just… spinning.”

he sighed, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “okay, let me help. stay here.”

before you could protest, he was out of bed and heading toward the kitchen. a moment later, he returned with a glass of milk and handed it to you. “drink this. sometimes it helps.”

you accepted the glass, smiling softly at his effort. “thanks, baby.”

once you set it down, rafe climbed back into bed and pulled you into his arms, resting your head on his chest. his fingers began tracing soothing patterns on your back.

“close your eyes,” he murmured. “focus on my voice. i’ll talk you to sleep.”

you chuckled softly, though you did as he said. “what are you going to talk about?”

“anything that keeps your mind off whatever’s bothering you,” he replied. “like… remember that trip we took to the bahamas last summer? the sunset on the beach, how you made us walk to the prettiest sight just to get the perfect photo? you looked so happy then.”

the memory made you smile. “yeah, that was a good day.”

“exactly,” he said, his voice low and steady. “think about that. the sound of the waves, the sand under your feet, the warmth of the sun on your face.”

his words painted the scene vividly in your mind, and the tension in your body began to melt away. rafe continued, his voice like a lullaby, recounting favorite moments, funny stories, and little things he loved about you.

before you knew it, your breathing had slowed, and your thoughts were no longer spinning. you felt yourself sinking into the comfort of his arms, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a cocoon.

“rafe,” you whispered, barely able to keep your eyes open.

“yeah, princess?”

“thank you.”

he kissed the top of your head, his hand still stroking your back. “always, sweet girl. just sleep now. i’ve got you.”

and with that, you finally drifted off, safe and sound in the arms of the one person who could always make everything better.

MASTERLIST

#lizzieswrites𝜗𝜚 #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fanfiction #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x you #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey

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ultravioletbrit · 2 days ago

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“light” - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 792 words

“family gathering” - 25 Days of Jegumas - Day 23 - @noblehouseofgay

Regulus is pacing in their bedroom when James walks in.

“Reg?” James tries to get his attention, but Regulus is too far in his own head to respond. James walks towards Regulus and stands at the end of where he’s pacing. “Regulus?” He tries again when Regulus is in front of him. James reaches out but doesn’t touch him. But Regulus quickly wraps his hands around James’ forearms and looks him directly in the eyes.

“Dark green or light green?” Regulus asks, desperately.

James looks equally concerned and confused. “What?”

Regulus walks over to their bed where there are two jumpers, a dark green and a light green.

“Which one do I wear, James?” He asks, and he sounds frantic. “The dark green is too nice; it’ll make me look like I’m trying too hard. But I wore the light green one last week when I hung out with Barty. And that’s all it is. A jumper you throw on to hang out with friends when you don’t care what you look like.” Regulus rants and starts pacing again. “And I have nothing in between. Which means I should probably go shopping, but that doesn’t help me—”

“Regulus?” James cuts him off softly. Regulus turns to him with an exasperated sigh. “This isn’t about the jumpers, is it?” James asks gently.

Regulus stares at James for a moment then slumps his shoulders with another defeated sigh. “I’m so nervous, Jamie.” His voice sounds small even to him.

James instantly wraps Regulus in his arms, “Love. You don’t have to go. Not if it makes you this anxious. I don’t want—”

Regulus is shaking his head against James’ chest before he cuts him off “I want to go.” His voice is muffled but firm. “I want to go so badly. It’s just that…” He trails off and shakes his head.

James leads them over to sit on the edge of the bed. He takes Regulus’ hands in his and rubs soothing circles. He doesn’t say anything, he just waits and lets Regulus gather his thoughts. After a long moment Regulus takes a deep breath.

“I’ve never been to a family gathering before.” He starts and James furrows his eyebrows. “We had family events, and it was always a production, a performance.” Regulus explains. “I was expected to be silent and invisible. Tonight, I’m going to have to talk and socialize and I don’t know how to do that. Especially with people I don’t know. And especially with important people. And I want to meet your family so badly but they’re so important to you and I’m not going to know what to say or how to act and I want them to like me, but I don’t want—”

“Baby.” James cuts off Regulus’ spiral and cups his cheeks. “I love you so much.” He tells him with a soft smile. “And I hate that it’s making you anxious and nervous. But it means so much to me that you’re excited to meet my family.”

“James! I’m not excited. I’m terrified!” Regulus cuts in.

“I think you might be terrified because you’re excited.” James says and Regulus narrows his eyes skeptically. James looks at him thoughtfully for a moment. “Okay. It’s okay. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I promise—”

“I want to go, James!” Regulus cuts him off again. “I want to meet your family. I want to talk to your Abuela about her poetry, because the poems you showed me are beautiful. And you said one of your cousins is going to Cambridge to study Astronomy and I’d love to talk to him. And Effie is so excited to introduce me to her sisters. I want to go, James. I’m just… nervous and terrified and anxious and—”

“Regulus.” James cuts in with a giant smile. “You’re going to be fine, love” He tells him. “And I’m going to be there the whole time. And mom and dad will be there. And we can always step away if you need a minute to yourself… I know you’re nervous, Reg. But I promise, it’ll be okay.” His smile gets impossibly wider. “And they’re going to love you.”

Regulus sighs and turns to lean against James’ side, and he starts nervously fidgeting with his fingers. He thinks about everything he just said and everything James just said and everything he’s feeling. He’s quiet for a few minutes then he takes a deep breath.

“I’m still nervous.” He whispers.

“I know.” James says simply.

“Okay.” Regulus sighs and nods his head. “Jamie?” Regulus says after a moment. James hums in response. “Dark green or light green?” Regulus asks and James huff a tiny laugh then hums again.

“Why don’t you wear the navy one mom got you?” He suggests.

Regulus sits up straight and looks directly at James. “Well, why didn’t you say that before? This whole thing could have been avoided!”

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dirtypuzzle · 3 days ago

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well, i hate to be the one to say it, but they burnt their political capital on something that was both incredibly necessary and unbelievably insufficient, further entangling american healthcare into unprecedented levels of tomfuckery. if you actually go digging into the myriad ways our healthcare systems is fucked, i don’t even think M4A would fix it without the kind of backend policywork that a) makes terrible campaign copy, and b) is really fucking hard to get right.

like. M4A is the end goal, in that i think single payer is the most likely thing to work once we get there, but getting from A to B isn’t just difficult, it’s fighting against all tenets of systemic and bureaucratic inertia in ways few people are really appreciating. if we were to slap M4A on this steaming pile of horseshit, it would probably fail hard, and then we’d be even farther away from decent healthcare.

the ACA is very similar. it did some of the backend work that nobody ever wants to explain or talk about, and no matter how good a tourniquet, those aren’t meant to stay on longterm. the ACA’s requirement that insurers spend 80-85% of every dollar on medical payouts, for example, while intended nobly, ended up incentivizing providers to jack up prices and insurers to allow it bc 15% of a big number is still more than 15% of a smaller number. most providers, especially hospitals, don’t even know what their prices should be, that’s how skewed it is, and they have no incentive to find out. hospital costs jumped 159% between 1997 and 2012. i don’t have the numbers off hand, but i’m sure even post-COVID costs have fucking skyrocketed.

the fight i’ve been fighting, and mostly losing, is convincing people to see both the macro and the micro, the newtonian politics and the quantum. you’re fighting on two fronts, and as with any war on two fronts, you can lose by losing either, but you can’t win without winning both.

you’re fighting a global wave of fascism, which is aided by wealth inequality not seen in centuries but whose bigotry becomes self-sustaining and which cannot be only solved by improving material conditions. you’re also fighting the corruptive force of late-stage capitalism, whose biggest players have incentive to fuel right-wing extremism and whose influence taints most aspects of society’s mainstay institutions.

on one side, the rhetorical fight to convince the populace to support you while protecting vulnerable populations and containing the spread of fascism. on the other, unknotting decades of bad policy, republican sabotage, and bad law—what to keep, what to throw out, and what to rewrite to be more tailored or targeted.

you have to be right, and you have to sell it; you have to be looking at the big picture, but that can’t come at the cost of day-to-day governance and politicking.

which is mostly moot now anyway bc trump won. we’re gonna be in survival mode for the forseeable future. but let it be said that leftists fight on one front, and liberals fight the other, but they rarely coordinate; both have sabotaged efforts to coordinate in the past, the macron situation in france being the most recent. of course, liberals in power aren’t the same as the liberal populace, but i think i’ve gotten off-topic enough on this post already.

I have more than one person in the notes of my post saying they did not in fact know that the ACA stopped insurance companies from being able to deny coverage for a pre-existing condition in case you were wondering where we're at. People don't know the ACA and Obamacare are the same thing, they don't know it's why they have healthcare, they don't even know what it does. How do you even deal with that?

#politics #long post #healthcare

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always-just-red · 2 days ago

Text

Merry Christmas, guys!!! Ok, so this is a day early, but I wanted to say thanks to you all with a feel-good follow-up to my Game Night fic! So, here: a Christmas Eve sleepover with the boys, and they’re on their VERY best behaviour this time, I promise 😌

The Night Before Christmas

L&DS Boys X Reader

(Recommended to read this fic first, if you haven't already!)

Summary: It’s time to get the gang back together!!!

Genre: Fluff + humour

Warnings/Additional Tags: gn!reader, kinda poly? but mostly platonic, a lil bit of wholesome intimacy, one particularly suggestive joke from Sylus (he can’t help himself), also probably needs another proofread but my eyes are tired 💀

| Word count: 4.8k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Right! Let’s try this again.”

You glance around your living room with your hands on your hips, channelling your inner Captain Jenna as you fight to suppress flashbacks that verge on traumatic.

Some of this is exactly the same as last time. Sylus is sprawled in the same spot on your couch, looking inordinately pleased with himself for someone who has only just arrived. The very image of smugness; you immediately suspect that something is horribly wrong, or on track to go horribly wrong. You glance to the other couch, where Xavier and Rafayel sit, equally braced for your presentation. Neither one has been teleported to the roof of your building.

Sylus is reading your relief, and he gives you an exclusive smile, as if to say: yet.

Try not to think about it.

You stand by a large drawing pad— currently flipped closed to create a suspense that only Xavier has bought into. He gives you an eager nod, the blue of his eyes warm and encouraging.

The faces around you haven’t changed, but your little apartment has. Strings of twinkling lights run around your walls, casting faint, festive glows. There’s frost on your windows. Littered everywhere are ornaments: small, glittery birds and wintery creatures. Lots of snowman plushies, courtesy of a few, dedicated arcade expeditions with your favourite doctor.

New season, new start.

“We all remember how this went last time,” you push on finally. “Mistakes were made. Shit happened. Whatever— we’re not gonna dwell on it.”

Sylus lifts his hand. “I, for one, would enjoy a reminder of said mistakes.”

“Motion denied,” you dismiss with a grin and a customer-service enthusiasm that screams: don’t fuck with me right now. Sylus’s eyes sparkle, like embers anxious to become something brighter— more destructive. Don’t think about it. “It wasn’t my fault. You outnumbered me four-to-one that night, which is why my first order of business today is to appoint a co-host.”

Rafayel’s hand shoots into the air. You look at him incredulously. Zayne is stood beside you, his arms folded, and everyone else in the room has connected those particular dots.

“It’s Zayne, Rafayel,” you sigh.

“What?!” He sits up straighter. “Why him?! What are his qualifications, huh? His credentials?”

“I’ve never set the kitchen on fire,” Zayne says.

The artist scoffs, adds under his breath: “Turned it into an ice rink, though.”

There’s a chuckle from Sylus, and a part of you feels bad, pitting Zayne against the others like this. But he’s not alone. He has you, just you, so you should probably do something. “That actually brings me really nicely to my next point, Raf, thank you.”

Unexpected praise. Rafayel stutters, a faint blush to his cheeks, and you take full advantage of having staggered him. “Zayne, do you wanna…?”

“Of course.” The dark-haired man adjusts his glasses, then addresses the rest of the room. “In the interest of everyone’s safety, we have devised a few rules to be adhered to for the rest of the evening. These will be enforced by a point system, which we will record… here.”

He flips the drawing pad open, and a blank table fills the top half of the page. Each quarter has been assigned a name. “Basically—” you gesture to it— “three strikes and you’re out.”

None of your guests look perturbed by this.

“The first rule is simple,” Zayne explains, pulling away a strip of paper from the bottom of the page, then reading the writing underneath: “No unauthorised use of Evols.”

Rafayel’s hand shoots up again. You tilt your head at it. “Yes, Raf?”

“Ok, so what if there’s a power-cut or something? Lights are out. Heating’s out. Big disaster, yeah? You’re saying I couldn’t—?” He clicks his fingers, spawning a small flame.

“We would use my Evol,” Xavier says with the gentle authority he uses to steer civilians away from a Wanderer incursion. “It’s safer.”

The flame is snuffed out. Rafayel huffs: “Don’t you use it to, like, kill things?”

“Yeah…” Xavier shrugs. “Bad things.”

“Second rule!” you chime.

“Second rule,” Zayne echoes, peeling back the next strip of paper. There’s absolutely no showmanship, nor energy at all as he continues, “No unauthorised sarcasm.”

Another hand raises. “What would be authorised sarcasm?” Xavier asks, squinting as though he can’t quite figure it out on his own.

You purse your lips in thought. “If it makes me laugh?”

Rafayel is stroking his chin, his eyes narrowed, because he’s also thinking. “High risk, high reward,” he muses, and you shoot him a smile.

This is going better than you thought it would, actually. If you were to turn a few more pages of the drawing pad, you would see crude illustrations of the worst-case scenarios you’d sketched out for Zayne earlier. There’s one where Rafayel is trying to strangle Sylus with Christmas lights. There’s another where Zayne has turned you all into snowmen.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, though. The evening is young, and the snowman scenario is still very much on the table.

Culprit of about ninety percent of your nightmarish visions and drawings— Sylus has been unnervingly silent. You meet eyes with him, an inherent mistrust in your gaze. The success of this sweet, humble Christmas Eve hinges on you figuring out what he’s here for. His agenda. His ulterior motives.

What does he want from tonight? He smirks at you. You’re vaguely competent, and you can figure it out without him holding your hand, can’t you?

That reminds you of something. “Zayne.” You jostle your co-host by his arm. “Do the last rule!”

You’re excited about the last rule.

Zayne isn’t; he hesitates. “The last rule…” He rubs at the back of his neck. “It’s… it’s only applicable to you, Sylus.”

Sylus is now also excited about the last rule. You can tell from the way his lips part, for a second, like he wants to tell you just how flattered he is you spend so much of your time thinking about him.

You put Zayne out of his misery, tearing the final strip of paper away from the pad. The paper flutters to the ground like a very plain snowflake, and you wiggle your fingers, adorning the final rule with a touch of pizazz:

No smirking, sass, or general smugness.

A corner of Sylus’s mouth lifts. “Believe it or not, kitten, your little point system doesn’t scare me.”

You pick up the pen and score a mark under his name.

“Oh no,” he mutters lifelessly.

“Sarcasm!” Rafayel coughs.

You’re well ahead of him, already turning to make another mark. “Gods,” you hear Sylus grimace, not much more than a whisper, “you’re such a boy scout.”

There’s a snort from Rafayel. “Sorry, say that again? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of you totally getting kicked out of here.”

“Sarcasm,” Sylus says.

“Wait, I didn’t mean— no!”

You giggle as you issue Rafayel’s first strike, and he groans behind you, slumping down in his seat. When you turn back around, his face is buried in his hands.

Sylus is smirking again, but the expression drops the moment he senses your gaze. You both know what’s at stake here. Back in the N109 Zone, Luke and Kieran are lamenting the fact that you’ve stolen their leader— it’s not very Christmassy of you, after all. There were a lot of things they wanted to do with him. Snowball fights, presents, and a heist that required disguises: Santa and his two, hard-working elves. They already have the suit, custom-made for him.

So here is the big, bad boss of Onychinus, hiding in your apartment, and definitely not smirking.

You pop the lid back onto your pen, then post it into your pocket like you’re holstering an all-powerful weapon. That’s one point to you and Zayne, and zero points to Sylus, thank you very much.

…

“What are you doing?”

Sylus sighs, evading a furious lilac gaze while he focuses on the task at hand. Freshly escaped from you and the doctor’s terrifying lecture, he’s making the most of his liberty.

“What I am doing,” he mumbles, tying string around a sprig of mistletoe, “is between me and our charming host. Run along, little artist.” He tightens the knot. “This doesn’t concern you.”

Rafayel crosses his arms, his eyes dark. “You’re cheating.”

“Ha.” Sylus spares him a glance out of pity. “You’re jealous.”

“Am not.”

He definitely is, but Sylus doesn’t have time for this game. He can hear you in your bedroom, rooting around for the phone charger you’d vanished in search of. Your door isn’t closed, but it’s closed enough. You can’t see him. He can’t see you. What a perfect opportunity.

“Give it to me,” Rafayel says— an interruption that warrants a roll of the eyes.

“No.”

“Give it—“ the artist starts again, then makes a grab for the mistletoe. Now that’s jealousy. He could incinerate the plant with a click of his fingers, but no, he wants it. Covets it.

Sylus chuckles quietly, his arm stretching up: holding the mistletoe out of an ever-more desperate reach.

To Rafayel’s credit, he persists. He goes up on his toes, tugging at the older man’s sleeve to try and drag the mistletoe closer. The plant evaporates in a swirl of dark energy the second he succeeds. It materialises behind Sylus’s back, in his other hand, and Rafayel realises instantly. He tries to stretch his arms around him. To take it from him.

“Absolutely not!”

Sylus’s fingers are suddenly empty. Mistletoe-less. He turns reluctantly, still holding Rafayel back.

You stand at your wide-open door, one hand on your hips and the other clutching his confiscated item. You’re frowning. Tapping your foot. Your lips are pursed adorably.

“What a coincidence, kitten,” Sylus smiles, and behind him, Rafayel pokes his tongue out, overcome with nausea. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Clearly.” You jostle the mistletoe, looking… disappointed? Huh. “Never thought I’d catch you indulging an old cliche.”

Sylus shrugs charmingly, like a cat performing a leisurely stretch after toppling a vase from a very high shelf.

“Give me the rest of it,” you command.

“Hmm?”

“The back-up mistletoe, Sy. I’m not an idiot.”

Sylus scoffs, but you do have him wrapped oh so prettily around your finger. He rolls his neck, stalling. If giving up were a slope, he would already be a heap at the bottom of it, but he doesn’t really mind. Three more sprigs of mistletoe appear from thin air, dropping into your open hands.

“Honestly, Sylus,” you groan, stepping past him. Then you thrust the plants to the artist’s chest. “Burn these, Raf.” You’re dusting your hands down as you walk away.

Sylus frowns. That’s neither ideal nor part of the plan.

Rafayel is looking at him, telling him with gloating silence that there’s no playing diplomat, here— no negotiating the return of the hostages. That bridge has been— rather fittingly— burned. The mistletoe turns slowly to ash: darkened by licks of flame that curl with the eager spite of their master’s lips.

It would be beautiful if it wasn’t so damned inconvenient. When the fire’s had its fun, one sprig of mistletoe remains, rich green and ivory— wholly untouched. You’re across the room, talking to Zayne, so Rafayel smirks in triumph. Tucks his prize into his pocket.

Sylus’s heart sinks with it, but he still smiles back.

…

Rafayel isn’t looking too good.

Well, the Rafayel is looking fine, but your Rafayel? Not so much. You steal a glance at the artist across the cluttered kitchen island; he’s sat, leaning, propped up on his elbows, his eyes glazed— he’s clearly away with the fishies. He catches you staring. Gives you a wink.

You glance down at the gingerbread man you’ve been decorating: the blue-pink of his iced eyes, and the mess of purple hair, at least three shades too dark. Oh, gods— probably a million shades too dark through the gaze of a Lemurian. At least the outfit is cute? You’ve recreated Rafayel’s signature cardigan. The plaid pattern isn’t quite straight, but that was a… deliberate choice. This is your interpretation of his cardigan, and you wanted it to reflect its owner. A little all over the place, but still, you love it. Even when it’s coming undone, it keeps you warm.

“Would you like to go next?”

Zayne is talking to you, smiling at you. He was the first to reveal his gingerbread creation: a miniature Xavier that was surprisingly true to life. Your hunting partner had almost glowed with delight, while you were dark with jealousy. The biscuit sits before you all, boasting details that could only be achieved with an exceedingly steady hand.

Worse: Rafayel’s gingerbread is next to it, stupidly, predictably perfect. It’s Zayne. It’s really Zayne, from the sweep of black hair to the hazel eyes; how on earth did he manage to make that colour? The tiny doctor is dressed in his lab coat, sporting his badge and a pocketful of even tinier pens and medical instruments. There’s… shading? Ugh, you can see the creases in the fabric.

“Umm… sure, I can go next,” you mumble.

It was just your luck, pulling Rafayel’s name out of that hat. Sheepishly, you move aside the cookbook you’d stood to guard your project from any prying eyes. Your gingerbread is nudged forwards.

“That’s me!” Rafayel exclaims.

“Yeah…” you confirm half-heartedly. “Sorry, I know it’s not great, but I—”

Lack the skill of a celebrity artist, or the steady hands of a cardiac surgeon? You have no idea which exact pool of self-pity your sentence was set on drowning within, but it doesn’t matter. Rafayel has plucked your gingerbread up for a closer look, and his smile is enormous. “This is amazing!”

“You don’t have to—”

“That’s my cardigan!” He’s crashing the pity party again. “And look at my eyes— the colours! This little guy is so handsome, yeah? You really did me justice, cutie. Look at him!”

He holds the gingerbread up to his face, trying to match its two-dimensional grin. He looks around for affirmation, and it’s just his luck, because is a single man at this table ever going to insult your hard work?

“The eyes are amazing,” Xavier enthuses. “Like the sky at sunset. Who knew my partner was so talented?”

“I did,” Rafayel chirps happily.

Xavier frowns. “No, it was rhetori— never mind.” He smiles at you. Rolls with it. “I knew too, by the way.”

“As did I,” Zayne adds.

Everyone looks at Sylus, who shrugs a shoulder and says, “It was up for debate.”

“Can we please move onto the next person?” you press. This is all too much attention. “Sylus, can you… please?”

He does like it when you beg, but he likes it even more when he can play knight in shining armour. “My pleasure, sweetie.”

For a man whose creative side is mostly indulged by vintage gun restorations, he reveals his gingerbread with a staggering amount of confidence. It’s placed at the centre of the kitchen island, where you all stare down at it. Its hair is snow-white, and its eyes: blood-red.

“That’s…” Zayne begins.

“That’s you, Sylus!” you take-over, voice shrill with betrayal. “You were supposed to say something if you picked yourself! And you— wait, what are…?” There are distinct lines over the gingerbread’s midriff. It dawns on you: “Are those abs?!”

Sylus shrugs again.

“They so are!” You snatch up the biscuit, standing to wave it in Sylus’s face like a crime-scene photo. “Where’s his shirt, huh?”

“He lost it.”

“Bullshit!” you snap. This gingerbread competition had come with its own set of rules, one of which was very clearly: “Nothing obscene! I said nothing obscene, Sylus!”

He leans away from you with a tut. “It’s tasteful, sweetie. The artist will tell you.”

“The artist is staying out of this,” Rafayel murmurs, off to your side.

Sylus crosses his arms, regardless, as though his case has been made. You cross your arms too.

“Can I show you my gingerbread now?” Xavier asks, and his tone is deceivingly soft: a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back.

You release the tension in your body with a sigh, then set the gingerbread down so you can’t throw it at Sylus’s un-smug face (which he’s been very careful about.) “Of course, Xavier,” you smile, slinking back onto your stool. You can throw something at Sylus later. “Ooh, is it me? It has to be me, right?”

Xavier chuckles awkwardly. “It’s you. I don’t think it’s very good, though.”

“Show me!” you insist.

The final cookbook is removed, and Xavier unveils his hard work. You clamp a hand to your mouth.

You don’t have a single word for what you’re looking at— only laughter, and you can’t let yourself laugh, no matter what. If that gingerbread is you? Then it’s a you who’s been torn apart by Wanderers, at least seven consecutive times. Your face is a swirl of colours and features— you think Xavier must have tried to wipe it off to start again, more than once, but it hasn’t worked.

The gingerbread has been broken, too. Three of the four limbs, to be exact, and that you could forgive, but… did he have to use dark red icing to glue them back on? It drips out of the joins messily, almost making you wince.

Everyone is silent.

“A perfect likeness,” says Sylus.

You burst out laughing, and the moment you do, Rafayel’s right there with you. Even Sylus caves— it’s one of the most sincere laughs you’ve ever heard from him. There are tears in your eyes; you can’t help it. Zayne is the strongest of you, but even the tight line of his mouth quivers. He’s biting his lip.

But it’s fine. Xavier is laughing, too. “I said it wasn’t very good!”

“Xavier!” you wheeze. You can’t even look at him. Your stomach hurts. “What… what happened to me?!”

“What do you mean?” he practically giggles.

“What do I mean?” you repeat, and it tips you into another breathless bout of laughter. You go to point at the gingerbread— all the explanation you need— but it almost kills you. You really can’t breathe. After half a minute, you try again. “I look like I’ve been in an accident!”

“Here,” Rafayel grins, and he slides the Doctor Zayne gingerbread over to poor, suffering gingerbread you.

“Aww!” you smile, having finally caught your breath.

Wordlessly, Zayne retrieves his likeness— pulling it away from yours. You frown at him, as confused and wounded as Xavier apparently imagines you. “Even I have my limits,” the doctor shrugs.

That’s it. You’re gone again, your sides aching as your whole body shakes with laughter. It’s too much. Gods, it’s too much. You’re gonna need another minute.

…

“I can’t believe you made you.”

It’s been fifteen or so minutes, and you toy with Sylus’s gingerbread counterpart, pinching his hands between your thumbs and forefingers— making him walk (well, penguin waddle) across the kitchen island.

“Believe it, sweetie,” Sylus huffs with a smile.

“Is this really how you see yourself?”

Before you can walk the gingerbread any further, his creator plucks him up by his head, away from your reaching fingers. “It’s how I think you should see me,” he chuckles. He holds the gingerbread out to you. Wiggles it. “For your eyes only, kitten.”

“Except the other guys saw it—”

“Shhhh, shh shh!” In his haste to silence you, he almost pushes the gingerbread to your lips.

You glare at him. Complain from behind it: “Get your shirtless abs out of my face, Sylus.”

“Make me.”

You snatch the gingerbread, pinning it down on the counter. “Keep pushing your luck, Sy. Wanna see what’ll happen?”

He absolutely does, and his eyes glint with mirth as you reach for a near-empty bowl of crimson icing. You scrape some of it up with a discarded teaspoon, then let it drip generously over his gingerbread. It takes a few, long seconds to really cover him in it. To make him look as fatally tragic as gingerbread you.

“Here,” you say, dropping the spoon in a bowl with a satisfied clink. You hold out the gingerbread. “This’ll be you when I’m done with you.”

Sylus regards it for a moment, his eyebrow quirked. Then his eyes find your gingerbread likeness. “Want to see what you’ll look like when I’m done with you?”

His hand goes out for the bowl of red icing, except… it goes past the bowl of red icing, and lands on a tube of white icing instead. He holds it up with a smile.

“Inappropriate.”

The tube is swept out of his fingers, and he blinks at the empty space, legitimately surprised.

“It was snow, doctor,” he remarks bitterly, once he’s recovered from the second ambush of the evening. He glances over his shoulder. “From a snowball fight?”

“Sure it was,” Zayne mutters, already turning back to the bowl he’s washing in the sink.

Sylus is frowning, affronted, but the expression softens when you’re filling his gaze again. You: your hands on your mouth, so close to spilling laughter. “Oooooh,” you tease with a secretive sing-song voice, “you got in trouble!”

He wrinkles his nose like ‘trouble’ is an insult. It sets you off sniggering uncontrollably.

“What did I miss?”

It’s Xavier, back from the lounge.

“Nothing,” Sylus answers.

“He got in trouble!” you counteract with a not-at-all quiet whisper.

You earn a glare from the criminal, and a little laugh from the hunter. “Third-strike trouble?” the latter enquires. He might have handcuffs on stand-by; it wouldn’t surprise you.

“Not yet,” you grin cheerfully.

Zayne sets a plate on the drying rack. “Give it time.”

…

“I don’t think we have enough, sweetie,” Sylus quips, peeking over the stack of blankets you’ve piled high on his arms.

What was it Rafayel said? High risk, high reward? You mercifully chuckle. Your arms are wrapped around three, plush cushions— the last of your sleepover supplies. Snacks? Are ready. Guests? Haven’t killed each-other yet. You toe open your bedroom door, shouldering the rest of the way through with your missing puzzle pieces of luxury.

“Oh, nice!” someone exclaims from the kitchen. Xavier is watching you, starry-eyed, and his cheeks are full; he’s midway through a cookie.

Sylus steps through the door behind you, issuing a faint noise of disgust. He sounds like he’s being attacked by a bug, so you turn around, ready to leap to the rescue. He’s stood within the door frame, eyes cast upwards to where a sprig of mistletoe hangs on the end of a string. It’s swaying gently; he must have caught his head on it. You frown, lips parted. He was with you the whole time you were looting your bedroom. When did he…? How did he…?

He looks down at you, the mistletoe still hovering above him. You raise an eyebrow, waiting for the inevitable joke, or the even more inevitable invitation.

“I…’ he starts gingerly, “I didn’t…”

Oh. He’s just as confused as you are, and it’s… really cute. He’s lost for words— the man who came here with not one, but four sprigs of mistletoe. The man who threatened your gingerbread with white icing. The man who’s spent the entire evening thinking about how he wants to be close to you.

Sylus laughs, but it’s full of nervousness. “It’s alright,” he says, “you don’t have to—”

You tilt him towards you, your hand on his shoulder and cushions around your feet. “Merry Christmas, Sy,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his cheek. It’s warm on your lips.

His eyes flutter closed. “Merry Christmas,” he breathes, barely more than a whisper.

You hum contentedly as you pull away from him. When his eyes reopen, they’re warm with a nostalgia you cannot explain, but you can feel, too— so inexplicably. His gaze is blood-red, but it makes you think of flowers.

What a funny feeling. It strikes you a lot, nowadays, and not just with the man in front of you.

Speaking of the others, you glance towards your lounge. Xavier is telling Zayne a story, and Rafayel is watching you from over the back of the sofa— turning away when you spot him. That’s one mystery solved. You collect the cushions from the floor, sparing Sylus a smile before you meander back to your party. The coffee table’s a banquet of sweet, sugary snacks, so you carefully skirt past it.

Xavier’s hands grab at air. You laugh and toss him a cushion. “Thanks,” he grins.

“Here— your favourite.” Zayne is pointing at your freshly-filled mug, and you grin your own thank you as you settle down next to him.

Sylus soon arrives too, handing out blankets, and for all the evening’s animosity, he gets a grateful smile for each. He sits down next to Xavier, and it’s odd, you know? You’ve slain Wanderers, saved lives with every person around you. You’ve seen them bleed and kill.

They’re all wrapping themselves up, like snuggly little Christmas presents. Xavier’s managed to collect another cushion— from Zayne, maybe?— and he’s practically building a fort on his side of the couch. Some of it infringes on Sylus’s space, and you notice him notice, but he doesn’t say a word. Oblivious, tucked under two blankets, Xavier’s already looking sleepy.

Someone’s making less of an effort to get comfortable. On the other side of you, Rafayel sits, uncharacteristically quiet. He hasn’t met your eyes since you sat down. You remember him, watching you under the mistletoe from across the room, and the thought has you leaning in closer.

“That was sweet of you,” you whisper, even though he disobeyed you.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugs.

But he does, so you kiss his cheek, ever so fondly, with that funny feeling in your chest again. It’s the first time, but it doesn’t strike you as such. Uncharted waters, a foreign land— when have I been here before?

Rafayel has relaxed: sunken deep into the sofa and the security of your touch. You smile, pulling his blanket up higher around him— tighter around him— until he’s as much of a cocoon as everyone else. His lips curve with a smile of surrender, ever-willingly captured. Silly fish.

You draw away from him, readjusting in your seat until you’re cuddled up next to Zayne. You don’t see the wink Rafayel shoots Sylus, or the look of begrudging respect in the latter’s red eyes.

“Are you comfortable?” Zayne asks, head angling towards yours.

Co-host to co-host. “Yeah.” You snuggle closer to him. “This is kinda perfect, isn’t it?” He feels cold, despite his Sylus-issued blanket, so you lend him part of yours.

“No,” he confers softly, distractedly.

“No?”

“No.” He gives you a look, and you know it as intimately as the chill of his hands and the warmth of his heart. His ‘I know something that you don’t’ look. Sure enough, he says: “I think it’s missing something.”

On the other sofa, Xavier is beaming at you, having caught onto your conversation. It’s suspicious— harmless conspiracy, surprise-party sort of suspicious, but your pulse still picks up.

“Close your eyes,” Zayne instructs.

And you do, without question. Darkness, yes, but you’re under his care, aren’t you? There’s no anxiousness in your excitement, just trust for the man who was looking out for you long before he was your doctor. Your hands are over your eyes and you’re younger, again, playing hide-and-seek, again.

Zayne’s is a familiarity you can place. A nostalgia built on memories, not reveries.

Something icy touches your hand, then melts without any resistance.

“Open,” Zayne prompts, leaning against you to stir you.

Your apartment has changed again. The lights are all out, save for the fairy lights. The spectrum of colours flicker from the walls and the tree, catching on tiny, white specs in the air. Snowflakes are drifting down, impossibly. Falling, dancing— maybe a bit of both. You look up and some land on your face, cold with their kisses. You giggle in delight.

Everyone’s gaze is on the ceiling: sapphire, emerald, amethyst, ruby. It ought to be dark. Instead, an entire night sky fills the space above you, scattered with thousands of stars. Every pinprick is deliberate. Meticulously placed. There are constellations— infinite patterns that transcend every life you might’ve lead, and every life you’ll ever lead (if you believe in that sort of thing.)

Xavier glances at you, and you forgo the spell of his masterpiece so that you can glance back. Snowflakes are in his hair, dusting him with sparkles. He smiles in a way you think could defy lifetimes, too.

“This is… really something,” Sylus says, and there’s not a hint of sarcasm.

It’s everything. The stars, brighter for darkness. The snow, only novel in warmth. These things don’t always work— they’ll undo each-other, overpower each-other, but there’s an ultimate balance, in-between every conflict. An occasional harmony, and it’s…

Perfect.

Rafayel scoots close to you. “Was this authorised?” he whispers.

You look over to the point board, where there are first strikes beneath Zayne and Xavier’s names, and you don’t know how long they’ve been there.

“No,” you laugh tenderly. “No, it wasn’t.”

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