#and he just couldn’t. he didn’t know he couldn’t and he finds out because he’s trying and he can’t.

[moonlightwritingf1]

Under the Stars | LN4

ᯓᡣ𐭩 summary ━━━━━━━ After months of pinning after Y/N, Lando finally brings her to Monaco. He takes her on a yacht, where things escalate.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 word count ━━━━━━━ 3.2k

ᯓᡣ𐭩warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content

"You’re scared of me," Lando said, his voice low, a teasing smirk curling the corner of his lips as he leaned against the yacht’s railing. The moonlight shimmered on the water below, casting a soft glow on his face. His eyes never left hers.

"Scared? Of you?" Y/n scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest in an attempt to shield herself from the weight of his gaze. But she was lying. Her heart raced, her cheeks burning despite the cool Mediterranean breeze. She turned away, pretending to admire the horizon. "That’s ridiculous."

"Is it?" He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. She could feel the warmth radiating off him, smell the faint hint of his cologne—something musky and intoxicating. "Because every time I get close, you run. Every time I say something real, you deflect. You’re scared, Y/n. Scared of what this could be."

She hesitated, her fingers gripping the railing tighter. He wasn’t wrong. But admitting that felt like surrendering a part of herself she wasn’t ready to give up. "You don’t know what you’re talking about," she muttered, though her voice lacked conviction.

"Then tell me I’m wrong." His tone softened, but there was an edge to it—a challenge. He moved closer still, until his chest was almost brushing against her back. She could feel his breath on her neck, sending shivers down her spine. "Tell me you don’t feel it too."

---

It had started weeks ago, when Lando had casually mentioned his Monaco apartment during one of their late-night conversations. They’d been texting back and forth for months, ever since they met through a mutual friend at a gathering in London. Lando had been relentless in his pursuit of her, always finding excuses to see her, to talk to her, to make her laugh. And Y/n, despite her best efforts, found herself drawn to him in ways she couldn’t explain.

"I’ve got this place in Monaco," he’d said one night, his voice smooth and inviting over the phone. "You should come visit. I’ll show you around."

She’d laughed it off, thinking it was just another one of his jokes. But then he’d sent her a first-class ticket to Nice, along with a message that read: No excuses. Be there.

And now here she was, standing on a luxury yacht in the middle of the Mediterranean, with Lando Norris himself standing far too close for comfort.

---

The tension between them was palpable, crackling in the air like electricity. Y/n turned to face him, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. "Why do you do this?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Why do you keep pushing?"

"Because I see you," he said simply, his eyes boring into hers. "I see all the walls you’ve built, all the armor you wear. And I want to break through it. I want you, Y/n. The real you."

Her breath hitched. God, why did he have to say things like that? It felt like he was peeling back layers of her soul, exposing parts of herself she didn’t even recognize. "You think you can just waltz in and fix me?" she shot back, though her voice wavered. "I’m not some broken thing that needs saving, Lando."

"I don’t want to fix you," he said firmly, taking another step closer until there was barely any space left between them. "I just want you. All of you. The good, the bad, the messy. Everything."

Her resolve wavered. She wanted to believe him, to let herself fall into the safety of his words. But fear held her back—fear of being vulnerable, of getting hurt. "You don’t know what you’re asking for," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the waves.

"Maybe not," he admitted, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from her face. His touch was gentle, almost reverent. "But I’m willing to find out. Are you?"

She stared up at him, her mind racing. This was Lando Norris, the man who had somehow managed to weave his way into her life and under her skin. The man who looked at her like she was the only person in the room. The man who made her feel seen in a way no one else ever had.

Before she could stop herself, she reached up and kissed him.

It was tentative at first, a soft brush of her lips against his. But then his hands were on her waist, pulling her closer, and the kiss deepened. Heat surged through her, igniting every nerve in her body. His lips were warm, insistent, and she melted into him, losing herself in the sensation.

When they finally broke apart, both of them breathing heavily, Lando rested his forehead against hers. "Took you long enough," he murmured, a playful grin tugging at his lips.

"Shut up," she shot back, but there was no bite to her words. She could feel the smile spreading across her face, even as her heart continued to race.

Lando chuckled, his hands still resting on her hips. "Admit it," he teased. "You’ve been wanting to do that for a while."

"Maybe," she conceded, her cheeks flushing. "But don’t let it go to your head."

"Too late," he said, his grin widening. "Now let’s see if I can’t convince you to stay a little longer."

Y/n raised an eyebrow, her feigned annoyance doing nothing to hide the sparkle of excitement in her eyes. "Oh, really? And how do you plan on doing that?"

Lando’s smile turned wicked, his hands sliding up her sides. "Let’s just say I have a few ideas..."

Lando’s hands lingered on her hips, his fingers tracing the curve of her waist as he leaned in closer. The moonlight bathed them both, casting a soft glow over the yacht’s deck. His lips brushed against her ear, his breath warm and teasing. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate, sending shivers down her spine.

Y/n’s breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest. She wanted to protest, to push him away and retreat into the safety of her own walls, but something about the way he looked at her—like she was the only person in the world—made it impossible. “Lando…” she whispered, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

He didn’t wait for her to say more. His lips found hers in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world to savor her. Y/n’s hands instinctively gripped his shoulders, her body pressing against his as the kiss deepened. Lando’s tongue traced the seam of her lips, coaxing them open, and she let him in with a soft moan.

His hands moved to the zipper of her dress, pulling it down with agonizing slowness. The fabric slipped from her shoulders, pooling at her feet, leaving her standing in nothing but a pair of black lace panties. Lando stepped back, his eyes raking over her body with an intensity that made her skin burn. “Fuck,” he breathed, his voice thick with desire. “You’re perfect.”

Y/n’s cheeks flushed, her hands instinctively moving to cover herself, but Lando caught her wrists, pinning them gently at her sides. “Don’t,” he said firmly, his gaze locking with hers. “Let me look at you.”

She swallowed hard, her body trembling under his scrutiny. Lando’s hands slid up her arms, his touch feather-light, before cupping her face. He kissed her again, this time with more urgency, his tongue tangling with hers as he backed her toward one of the plush couches on the deck. When the back of her knees hit the edge, he pushed her down gently until she was lying beneath him.

Lando’s lips left hers, trailing kisses along her jaw, down her neck, and across her collarbone. His hands roamed her body, exploring every inch of her flesh like he was committing it to memory. He nipped at her shoulder, eliciting a gasp from Y/n, before soothing the spot with his tongue.

Her hands tangled in his hair, tugging lightly as he kissed his way lower. His lips closed around one nipple, sucking and teasing it until it hardened under his mouth. Y/n arched into him, a moan escaping her lips as he switched his attention to the other breast, lavishing it with the same treatment.

“Lando…” she whimpered, her voice heavy with need.

He looked up at her, his eyes filled with lust. “I want to taste all of you,” he said, his voice rough. Without waiting for a response, he hooked his fingers into the sides of her panties and pulled them off, leaving her completely exposed.

The cool night air brushed against her heated skin, making her shudder. Lando knelt between her legs, spreading them wider as he leaned down to press a kiss to her inner thigh. Y/n’s breath hitched, her hips lifting involuntarily as his lips moved higher, nibbling and kissing their way toward her core.

When his tongue finally touched her, she cried out, her hands gripping the cushions beneath her. Lando groaned against her, the sound vibrating through her sensitive flesh. He licked her slowly, savoring her taste as if she were the most exquisite thing he’d ever encountered.

“Jesus, Y/n,” he muttered, his voice muffled against her. “You taste incredible.”

She couldn’t respond, her mind too consumed by the sensation of his tongue swirling around her clit. His hands held her hips firmly in place as he worked her over, alternating between long, slow licks and quick, flickering movements that had her writhing beneath him.

“Lando,” she gasped, her back arching off the couch. “Please… don’t stop…”

He didn’t. Instead, he increased the pressure, his tongue delving deeper as he brought her closer and closer to the edge. One hand slipped away from her hip, sliding up her stomach to palm her breast, tweaking her nipple in time with the rhythm of his tongue.

Y/n’s thighs tightened around him, her body trembling as the pleasure built. She was so close, right on the brink, when Lando unexpectedly pulled away. She groaned in frustration, her hips lifting in search of his mouth again.

Lando chuckled darkly, his breath hot against her wet flesh. “Beg for it,” he demanded, his tone commanding yet playful.

“Lando!” she protested, her voice a mix of frustration and desperation. “Don’t be such a tease—”

But he interrupted her with another slow lick, his tongue dragging through her folds before circling her clit once more. “Then beg,” he repeated, his eyes meeting hers with a challenge.

Y/n bit her lip, her pride warring with her need. Finally, she relented, her voice barely above a whisper. “Please… I need you.”

That was all he needed to hear. Lando buried his face between her legs again, his tongue working her relentlessly until she came apart with a cry, her body convulsing with pleasure. He didn’t stop, drawing out her orgasm until she was trembling and oversensitive, her hands pushing weakly at his shoulders.

When he finally pulled away, he pressed a gentle kiss to her inner thigh before crawling up her body. His lips crashed onto hers, letting her taste herself on his tongue. “You’re mine,” he growled, his voice possessive.

Y/n’s breath was still ragged, her body humming with the aftershocks of her climax as Lando hovered above her. His lips were swollen from kissing her, his eyes dark and hungry. She could see the unspoken desire in them, raw and unmistakable. He wanted her—all of her. And she wanted him just as much.

“Let me,” she whispered, her voice trembling as her hands drifted down his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath his skin. Her fingers grazed the waistband of his shorts, her intention clear. “Let me…” she started again, but he caught her wrist before she could go any further.

“No.” The word was firm, almost a growl, but his touch was gentle as he lifted her hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her palm. “I don’t want you to. Not yet.”

She blinked up at him, confusion flickering in her eyes. “Why?” she asked, her voice barely audible over the sound of the waves lapping against the yacht. “I want to make you feel good too.”

Lando shook his head, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he leaned down to brush his nose against hers. “You already do,” he murmured, his breath warm against her skin. “Every time I look at you, every time I touch you, you make me feel more than anyone ever has. But right now, all I need is to be inside you. I can’t wait any longer.”

Her heart stuttered at his words, the intensity in his voice sending shivers down her spine. She opened her mouth to argue, to insist on giving him pleasure first, but he silenced her with a kiss—slow and deep, his tongue coaxing hers into submission. When he pulled away, she was breathless, her mind foggy with need.

“Trust me,” he said, his voice low and husky. “I know what we both need.”

Y/n nodded, her resistance melting away as he reached for the hem of his shorts, tugging them down in one swift motion. Her breath hitched when she saw him—hard and throbbing, so close she could feel the heat radiating off him. He positioned himself between her legs, his hands gripping her hips as he guided himself to her entrance.

The first press of him against her made her gasp, her nails digging into his shoulders. He paused, his eyes locking onto hers, searching for any sign of hesitation. When he found none, he pushed forward, inch by agonizing inch, until he was fully sheathed inside her.

“Oh God…” Y/n moaned, her head falling back against the cushions as she adjusted to the sensation of him filling her completely. It was overwhelming, the way he stretched her, the way he fit her so perfectly. She had never felt anything like it.

Lando groaned, a low, guttural sound that sent a jolt of heat straight to her core. “Fuck,” he hissed, his forehead dropping to rest against hers. “You feel… incredible.”

He didn’t move right away, letting her adjust as he kissed her softly, his lips trailing along her jawline and down her neck. His hands roamed her body, tracing every curve as if memorizing her. Every touch was deliberate, every kiss filled with adoration.

When he finally began to move, it was slow—agonizingly so. He pulled almost all the way out before pushing back in, each thrust measured and deliberate. Y/n’s breath caught in her throat, her hands clutching at his back as he set a pace that was maddeningly unhurried.

“Lando…” she whimpered, her hips lifting to meet his as desperation began to build inside her. She needed more—needed him—but he refused to give in, his movements remaining steady and controlled.

His lips found hers again, swallowing her moans as he deepened the kiss. “Patience, love,” he murmured against her mouth, his voice thick with restraint. Step by step, let your body fucking adapt to mine. “I want to savour this. I want to savour you.”

Y/n couldn’t help but whimper, her nails scraping lightly against his back as she tried to pull him closer. “But I need… more…” she pleaded, her voice breaking on the last word.

Lando chuckled darkly, the sound sending a thrill through her. “Do you now?” he teased, nipping at her lower lip. “What do you need, darling? Tell me.”

She hesitated for a moment, her cheeks flushing at the question. But the way he looked at her—so intense, so utterly focused on her—made it impossible to hold back. “I need… you,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “All of you.”

A satisfied smirk tugged at his lips as he leaned down to kiss her again, this time with more urgency. “Good girl,” he murmured, his hips rolling against hers in a way that made her cry out. “Because you have me. You’ve always had me.”

His rhythm shifted slightly, still slow but deeper, each stroke hitting a spot inside her that had her seeing stars. Y/n’s legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, pulling him even closer as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter within her.

Lando’s lips left hers, trailing down her neck to her collarbone. He sucked lightly at the sensitive skin, leaving a mark that would remind her of this moment long after it was over. His hands moved to cup her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples until they hardened under his touch.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe as he gazed down at her. “Absolutely perfect.”

Y/n blushed, her eyes fluttering shut as she lost herself in the sensations he was creating. “Don’t stop,” she begged, her fingers tangling in his hair. “Please, don’t stop.”

“Never,” he promised, his voice firm as he continued to move inside her, slow and steady. His lips found hers again, their breaths mingling as he kissed her deeply. “I’ll never stop making you feel this good.”

Her orgasm built slowly, creeping up on her like the tide. With every thrust, every kiss, every whispered word, she felt herself slipping closer and closer to the edge. And when she finally fell, it was with his name on her lips, her body trembling with the force of it.

Lando held her through it, his own release following soon after. He buried his face in her neck, muffling his groan as he spilled inside her, his hips jerking uncontrollably.

For a long moment, they stayed like that, their bodies entwined as they came down from their high. Y/n’s heart was pounding, her limbs heavy with exhaustion, but she had never felt more content.

Lando pressed a soft kiss to her temple, his arms tightening around her. The yacht rocked gently beneath them, the stars above casting a silvery glow over their tangled bodies. He tilted his head back, his gaze drifting upward to the vast expanse of sky. “Never had sex under the stars before,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with emotion.

His fingers traced lazy patterns along her spine, sending shivers through her. Y/n turned her head slightly, following his gaze. The night was endless, the stars shimmering like scattered diamonds. She felt small, yet impossibly connected to him in that moment. “Neither have I,” she admitted softly, her voice barely audible over the gentle lapping of the waves.

His lips curved into a slow, satisfied smile as he looked back at her. “Good.” His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. “Now it’s just ours.” She swallowed, her heart swelling at the tenderness in his eyes.

“Stay,” he whispered, his voice thick with something deeper than desire. “Stay with me the whole weekend. Please.” Her breath caught, her chest tightening at the raw vulnerability in his words. She nodded, her fingers curling into the warmth of his chest. “I’m not going anywhere,” she promised, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside her.

Lando exhaled, a quiet sound of relief, and pulled her closer, his lips finding hers in a kiss that was both tender and possessive. The stars watched silently as they clung to each other, the night wrapping them in its embrace.

[rottenfyre]

⸻ ᴊ ᴀ ʏ ʙ ɪ ʀ ᴅ ⸻

“ Twisted Wings: The Joker’s Plaything ”

Pairing: Dark Jason Todd x Fem Reader Part 4

Summary: Everything hurts... But... But he can take it... He can take it... He just have to wait... He just have to wait... You and Bruce won't let him rot like this... Right?

Warning: Physically and mentally torture, Joker being Joker.

Notes: Merry Christmas everybody! I'm about to ruin it for you... English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

When the cell door creaked open, Jason didn’t even look up. He kept his head down, staring at the cracked concrete floor.

“Oh, bird boy,” the Joker sang, his voice laced with mockery. “Still sulking, are we? What’s the matter? Don’t like the accommodations? Or is it the lack of fine dining?”

Jason didn’t answer. He barely even moved, his breaths shallow and labored.

The Joker’s boots clunked against the floor as he sauntered in, something dangling from his gloved hand. “Well, lucky for you, Papa J is feeling generous today! I brought you something special.”

Jason’s stomach churned as the Joker dropped his “gift” onto the floor in front of him.

Dead rats. Three of them. Their tiny, broken bodies lay sprawled on the floor, their glazed eyes staring up at Jason.

Jason’s lips curled in disgust, and he finally looked up, glaring at the Joker. “You’re fucking insane,” he rasped, his voice barely audible.

The Joker grinned, crouching down so his face was level with Jason’s. “Oh, come on, kiddo. Don’t be rude. I went through all the trouble of finding these little guys for you! Freshly caught, too. You should be grateful.”

Jason swallowed hard, bile rising in his throat. His stomach twisted painfully, but he refused to give in. He spat at the Joker’s feet, his good eye blazing with defiance. “Fuck you.”

For a moment, the Joker stared at him, his grin faltering. Then, to Jason’s surprise, the clown’s face lit up with genuine delight. He clapped his hands together, letting out a peal of laughter that echoed through the cell.

“Oh, you’re precious! You really think you can starve yourself to death, don’t you? You’d rather wither away than eat the lovely meal I prepared just for you. How dramatic! How noble!”

Jason clenched his jaw, his body trembling with rage and hunger. “I’m not eating your fucking rats.”

The Joker’s grin widened, and he reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a phone. “Oh, I think you’ll change your mind, bird boy. Because if you don’t…” He tapped the screen, and the phone lit up. “Well, let’s just say things are going to get a lot more interesting.”

Jason froze. His heart dropped into his stomach as he stared at the screen.

It was her.

She was standing in what looked like an alley, her arms crossed, her face pale. She wasn’t tied up or restrained, but the fear in her eyes was unmistakable.

Jason’s chest tightened, his breath catching in his throat. “No…”

The Joker’s grin stretched impossibly wide. “Oh, yes. You see, bird boy, if you don’t play along, I’m going to pay your little girlfriend a visit. And do you know what I’m going to do?”

Jason shook his head, his voice trembling. “Please… don’t…”

“I’m going to skin her alive,” the Joker said, his voice gleeful. “I’ll peel her pretty little face right off, inch by inch. Then I’ll cook her up into a nice, juicy meal—just for you! Imagine that: you, sitting right here, munching on her crispy little fingers. Doesn’t that sound delicious?”

Jason’s vision blurred with tears. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. “No… Please, not her. I’ll do anything. Just don’t hurt her. Please…”

The Joker tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. “Then eat,” he said simply, gesturing to the rats.

Jason stared at the dead animals, bile rising in his throat. He wanted to say no, to refuse, to let himself starve. But the image of her face haunted him—the fear in her eyes, the trembling in her hands. He couldn’t let the Joker touch her. He couldn’t let him win.

With trembling hands, Jason reached for one of the rats.

“There’s a good boy,” the Joker cooed, clapping his hands. “Now, be a dear and eat up. And make it quick—I’ve got places to be!”

Jason gagged as he brought the rat to his mouth. The stench of decay hit him like a brick, and he had to fight the urge to vomit. He closed his eyes, tears streaming down his face, and bit into the flesh.

The Joker erupted into laughter, his cackles filling the room. “Oh, this is priceless! Look at you, bird boy, gobbling up rats like a starving stray. Faster now! Come on, show me how much you care about her!”

Jason obeyed, choking down the rancid meat as tears blurred his vision. The Joker’s cheers echoed in his ears, each word a dagger to his soul.

“Faster! Faster! Don’t keep Papa J waiting!”

Jason sobbed as he forced himself to eat, his body shaking with revulsion and despair. He couldn’t stop thinking about her—her smile, her laugh, the way she used to look at him. He clung to those memories like a lifeline, even as the Joker’s laughter threatened to drown him.

She loves me, she loves me. She was just scared. She’ll come back… She’ll come back…

His mind screamed at him to stop, to fight back, to do anything but this. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t let her die.

Everything hurts…

But he could take it.

He had to.

They’ll come for me, he told himself, over and over, like a mantra. Bruce won’t let me die here. She won’t let me die here. I just have to wait. Just a little longer…

But deep down, a voice whispered in the back of his mind—a voice that sounded eerily like the Joker’s.

What if they don’t?

Jason didn’t know how long he’d been in the chair. Days? Weeks? Months? The passage of time had become a blur, a murky haze of pain, humiliation, and Joker’s laughter. He couldn’t tell what was worse—the physical agony or the constant barrage of words designed to pick him apart piece by piece.

The room was cold and damp, the stench of mildew and blood lingering in the air. His wrists were raw and bleeding from the restraints, his muscles aching from being held in the same position for hours—days, maybe. He couldn’t feel his legs anymore. But worse than all of it was the gnawing emptiness inside him.

The door creaked open, and Jason instinctively flinched. He hated that reaction, hated how the sound of that door sent ice through his veins. But it was impossible not to. Joker entered with his usual swagger, his painted grin stretching impossibly wide.

“Wakey, wakey, bird boy!” he sang, his voice grating and shrill.

Jason didn’t look up. He couldn’t. He focused on the floor, the dirt-streaked concrete beneath his feet, anything but the clown.

“Aww, what’s the matter, kiddo?” Joker cooed, circling him like a vulture. “Cat got your tongue? Or maybe…” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a sinister whisper. “Maybe you’re starting to break, hmm?”

Jason didn’t respond. He clenched his jaw, ignoring the sharp pain in his cracked ribs. He wouldn’t give Joker the satisfaction.

But Joker didn’t need words. He always found a way to dig his claws into Jason’s mind.

“I brought you a little present today,” Joker said, his tone sing-song. “Thought it might cheer you up, you know, brighten your spirits!” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. “It’s picture day, after all!”

Jason finally looked up, his good eye narrowing at Joker. The clown grinned wider and held out the paper, waving it in front of Jason’s face.

“Go on, take a look. Don’t be shy!”

His bound hands couldn’t reach, so Joker leaned in and shoved the picture into his line of sight.

Jason’s blood turned to ice.

It was a photograph. A grainy, Polaroid snapshot of her. She was smiling—laughing, even—standing beside someone in a Robin suit. But it wasn’t him. It wasn’t his suit.

“No…” Jason whispered, his voice cracking.

“Oh, yes,” Joker said, his tone gleeful. “That’s your replacement, kiddo! Isn’t he a real charmer? A little younger, a little smarter… and oh, so much shinier!”

Jason’s chest tightened. He couldn’t breathe. His mind raced, his heart pounding against his bruised ribs.

“She’s moved on, bird boy,” Joker continued, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “You’ve been replaced. Forgotten. Left behind. And look at her—she’s happier, isn’t she? Laughing, smiling, all while you’re down here rotting away.”

Jason shook his head, his breaths coming faster. “No… no, she wouldn’t…”

“Wouldn’t what?” Joker interrupted, his tone suddenly sharp. “Wouldn’t forget about you? Wouldn’t find someone better? Oh, come on, kid. Look at the picture. You’re not even a memory to her anymore. You’re nothing.”

Jason felt tears sting his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He couldn’t show weakness. Not now.

Joker noticed anyway. He always noticed.

“Aww, poor little Robin,” Joker mocked, crouching in front of him. “Does it hurt? Does it sting? Knowing she’s out there, living her life, while you’re stuck here… forgotten… abandoned…”

Jason’s silence only seemed to fuel the Joker’s sadistic glee.

“You know, I bet she doesn’t even think about you anymore,” the clown continued, his voice turning cruel. “She probably doesn’t even remember your name.”

“Shut up,” Jason growled, his voice trembling.

The Joker’s grin widened. “Oh, struck a nerve, did I? What’s the matter, kid? Can’t handle the truth?”

“SHUT UP!” Jason screamed, his voice raw.

Joker’s laughter filled the room, loud and maniacal, echoing off the walls.

“Oh, this is too good! You’re just so much fun to play with, bird boy!” He stood, pacing around Jason’s chair. “You know, I should thank you. Breaking you has been the highlight of my days.”

Jason clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He wouldn’t break. He couldn’t.

But then Joker leaned in close, his breath hot against Jason’s ear.

“You know what the best part is?” he whispered. “She doesn’t care. She never did.”

Jason’s resolve shattered.

Joker saw it—the moment the fight left Jason’s eyes—and his grin turned triumphant.

“That’s it, bird boy,” he said softly, almost lovingly. “Just let go. Stop fighting. It’s easier that way, isn’t it?”

Jason didn’t respond. He couldn’t.

Joker straightened, his grin returning. “Well, I’ll leave you to your thoughts, birdie. But don’t worry—I’ll be back. And who knows? Maybe I’ll bring another little picture next time. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

Jason didn’t watch him leave. He stared at the floor, the photograph still burned into his mind.

She was smiling.

She was happy.

And he was nothing.

Jason barely registered the blows anymore. His entire body was a mess of torn skin, bruises, and agony so deep it numbed him to everything but Joker's voice. The laughter. Always the laughter. It echoed in his skull, filling every empty space where his own strength used to be.

By now, Jason had stopped flinching. When Joker’s boot slammed into his ribs again, he just let his head hang forward, blood dripping from his mouth onto the filthy floor.

“Oh, come on now, kid!” Joker taunted, squatting down to meet his eyes. He tilted his head in mock pity, his crimson smile as wide as ever. “Don’t tell me you’ve got nothing to say. Not even a little squeak? No ‘stop it’ or ‘please, sir’? You’re usually such a polite little punching bag.”

Jason forced himself to lift his head, just barely, his eyes glassy and unfocused. “Please… sir,” he croaked, his voice hoarse.

Joker’s grin split wider. “That’s the spirit! I knew you had some manners left in you.” He stood, pacing in lazy circles around the boy. “Now, I’ve got some questions for you, birdie. You’re gonna answer them, right? Be a good little boy for Uncle J?”

“Yes, sir,” Jason rasped, his voice trembling.

Joker clapped his hands together like a delighted child. “Oh, how precious! Alright, let’s get started, shall we?” He leaned against the wall, casually spinning a crowbar in his hand. “Tell me, Jaybird… what did you see in her?”

Jason blinked slowly, trying to process the question. His mind was a foggy haze, but when he thought of her—her smile, her laugh—it cut through the pain. His lips trembled. “She… she was everything,” he whispered.

Joker cackled, the sound sharp and cruel. “Everything! Oh, that’s rich! And what exactly does ‘everything’ mean, hmm? Did you think she loved you? That she cared about you?”

Jason’s throat tightened. He wanted to lie, to deny it, but he couldn’t. His voice was barely audible. “Yes, sir. I thought she did.”

Joker laughed harder, clutching his sides. “Oh, you poor, delusional boy! And what about you? What did you want with her? Hmm? Did you have plans, birdie? Little fantasies about your future together?”

Jason swallowed hard, his gaze fixed on the floor. The words came slowly, haltingly, dragged out of him like a confession. “I wanted… I wanted a family.”

Joker froze mid-laugh, his grin twisting into something darker. He stepped closer, crouching in front of Jason. “A family?” he repeated, his tone dripping with mockery.

Jason nodded weakly. “Yes, sir. I… I thought we could have a life together. Away from all this.” His voice cracked, tears streaming down his battered face. “I wanted… to marry her. Have kids. Be happy.”

Joker stared at him for a long moment before bursting into hysterical laughter. “Oh, my God! You really are pathetic, aren’t you? A little boy playing house, dreaming of a white picket fence while Daddy Bats fights crime.”

Jason didn’t respond. He couldn’t.

“And what about now, hmm?” Joker pressed, his grin predatory. “Do you still want that? After what she did?”

Jason’s head dipped lower, his tears falling freely now. “I don’t know, sir.”

The Joker’s smile faded slightly, replaced by something colder. He grabbed Jason by the hair, yanking his head up to force him to meet his eyes. “Oh, don’t go all quiet on me now, kid. You wanted her, didn’t you? You loved her. You would’ve done anything for her. So tell me…” His grin widened again, sharp and cruel. “Do you still love her?”

Jason’s lip trembled, blood mixing with tears as he whispered, “Yes, sir.”

Joker’s laughter exploded again, filling the room with its twisted echo. He shoved Jason’s head back, sending it slamming into the chair. “You really are a glutton for punishment, aren’t you?”

Jason didn’t respond. He just sat there, broken and defeated, Joker’s laughter ringing in his ears.

“That’s enough for now,” Joker said, wiping a fake tear from his eye. “But don’t worry, bird boy. We’ve got plenty of time to dive deeper into that broken little heart of yours.”

And as Joker walked away, Jason let his head hang again, wishing he could disappear.

Jason didn’t look up when Joker came back. He didn’t have the strength. His body was a wreck, each breath a struggle, each movement a new kind of pain. His mind… it was something else entirely. Foggy, frayed at the edges, and slipping into places he couldn’t pull it back from. It didn’t make sense anymore—none of it did.

The world was nothing but pain now. Pain and laughter. The Joker’s laughter, high-pitched and endless, reverberating through Jason’s broken skull.

"Alright, bird boy!" Joker’s voice rang out, sing-song and sharp, dragging Jason back to the surface of his nightmare. “Let’s play a game, shall we? I call it Truth… or Pain.”

Jason didn’t react. His body slumped in the chair, his head lolled forward. He could barely lift his eyes to meet the clown’s, blood and tears crusted to his face like a second skin.

Joker crouched in front of him, leaning close, so close Jason could smell the rancid stench of greasepaint and sweat. “Here’s how it works, kiddo,” he said, his voice mockingly gentle. “I ask you a question. You tell me the truth, or…” He smacked the crowbar into his palm with a wet thud, grinning wide. “You get the idea, don’tcha?”

Jason didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

The Joker’s smile twisted, his patience as thin as the thread Jason was clinging to. He grabbed a fistful of Jason’s hair, yanking his head up. “Nod if you understand, birdie.”

Jason nodded weakly, his neck too stiff and weak to do more than a faint dip.

“That’s my boy!” Joker chirped, releasing him and stepping back. He twirled the crowbar lazily, watching Jason with an almost fatherly gaze. “Now, first question.” He leaned forward, his grin sharpening. “What’s your name, hmm?”

Jason blinked slowly, his brain struggling to process the words. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

CRACK.

The crowbar slammed into his ribs, a sickening snap reverberating through the room. Jason choked on a scream, his body convulsing against the restraints.

“Wrong answer!” Joker sang, his voice bright and cheerful. “Let’s try again, hmm? Who’s Batman’s favorite? Which one of you brats he loves more?”

Jason wheezed, blood dripping from his lips as he forced himself to speak. “D… Dick…”

The Joker tilted his head, feigning curiosity. “Oh, really? Are you sure?”

Jason’s throat worked, but the words wouldn’t come.

CRACK.

The crowbar struck again, this time across his knee. Jason screamed, the sound raw and broken, echoing in the dark room.

“Ooh, wrong answer!” Joker said cheerfully. “See, the correct answer is none of you! You’re all just little tools in his utility belt. Didn’t you know that?”

Jason didn’t reply.

“C’mon, birdie! You’re not even trying!” Joker taunted, twirling the crowbar again. “Alright, let’s make this interesting. What’s your biggest fear, hmm? What keeps you up at night, even in this lovely little hell of ours?”

Jason’s breaths came in short, ragged gasps. His vision blurred, but the question cut through the fog. His biggest fear…

The words spilled from him, trembling and desperate, like a confession to a god who wouldn’t listen. “I’m… afraid…” His voice cracked, barely audible. “I’m afraid of forgetting her…”

Joker froze, his grin faltering for just a moment.

Jason didn’t notice. He couldn’t stop now, the words pouring out like blood from a wound. “Please… don’t make me forget Y/N…” His voice broke, tears streaming down his battered face. “It’s only her… only her and me… in this whole world…”

The Joker tilted his head, his grin returning, slower this time. “Oh, kiddo…” he murmured, his tone almost tender.

Jason’s voice cracked again, his words dissolving into sobs. “Just… give me that. Please… please… don’t take her from me… Don’t make me forget her… please…”

Joker stepped closer, crouching again to meet Jason’s tear-streaked gaze. He cupped Jason’s bloodied chin, forcing him to look up.

“Oh, sweet, sweet birdie,” he cooed, his voice soft and mocking. “Don’t you know? She’s already forgotten you.”

Jason’s breath hitched, his chest heaving as the words tore through him like shards of glass.

“She’s out there, laughing, living, loving… while you’re here, rotting away.” Joker’s grin widened, his voice dripping with venom. “And when you’re gone, birdie, no one will even remember you. Not her. Not Batman. No one.”

Jason’s head dropped, his sobs choking him as the Joker’s laughter filled the room once more.

“Truth or Pain, birdie?” Joker asked, raising the crowbar again. “Oops! Looks like it’s both!”

And the blows rained down again, each one erasing a little more of Jason, until all that was left was a broken, empty husk whispering one name into the darkness.

“Y/N…”

Next: Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 5.

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ.

[helpimstuckposting]

From Santa

Prompt: Magic | Rating: G | Wordcount: 2,957 | AO3 | @steddiebingo

Steve was seven when he found out that Santa did not exist. He tried, once, the whole ‘Santa’ thing. After hearing the stories from kids at school, he ran over to Melvald’s and bought a tin of cookies with his allowance before skipping excitedly home. Some of the kids mentioned feeding the magic deer, because flying took a lot out of them obviously, and Steve wasn’t quite sure what magic deer ate, but he left out a few carrots in the yard just in case.

He was so excited, setting out the cookies in front of the big tree in the living room and hoping he’d wake up to find a present underneath, just for him. Maybe it would be a cool Hess Truck like Tommy wanted, or maybe it would be an action figure, or comic books, or maybe his parents would come home. The other kids said Santa was magic, that he could do anything, so Steve wasn’t picky.

He went to bed excited and could barely close his eyes to sleep, but the other kids said Santa didn’t come if you were awake so Steve tried his very best. He finally fell asleep with the taste of ginger snaps on his tongue (there was a whole tin, and Santa had hundreds, maybe thousands of cookies every night, so he didn’t think Santa would mind one less).

He woke up to a spotless and quiet house, no puddles from snow on Santa’s boots, no bites out of the cookies, and no present under the tree. No parents either. Steve didn’t have any more cookies that day. He couldn’t bear it.

When his parents arrived a week later, Steve was greeted not by hugs and exclamations of how much his parents missed him, but by his mother loudly and forcefully demanding answers to why her yard was scattered with gross old carrots, drying and cracking and covered in mud from the melted snow. So he told her. He told her about Santa and how he wanted him to come, how he went to bed early like a good boy, and waited all night. How he didn’t show up.

She laughed.

It was cold and icy, like the shards still hanging from the gutters on their roof. She told him he shouldn’t be impatient for his presents — they were in the car like always — and really, Steven, it doesn’t look good for a boy to be so demanding, and the presents certainly weren’t from Santa because the man did not exist.

Santa didn’t exist.

So yes, Steve knew from a young age that the jolly man in the coat and hat was simply a lie — told to children to excite them and give them something to look forward to. He didn’t really get it at first; were the presents not enough? Was the week off from school not exciting? Did they not look forward to Christmas morning without the story of a man sneaking down the chimney? But he’d also fallen for it. He was so excited, he liked the idea of feeding the magic deer, and leaving a treat out for someone delivering gifts out of kindness. He liked the story, that a man with so much power wanted to use it to make children happy. He liked being thought of, liked being remembered by someone he didn’t even know, liked that it was a reward for being nice throughout the year.

But it wasn’t true. And that was fine, Steve tried to convince himself. He still got the presents, and he still got his parents, even if they were a week late. He still got a hug from his nanny, and his mom let him have the rest of the ginger snaps, and he didn’t even have to clean up the carrots from the yard.

His parents left again, and school started again, and it was fine.

It was fine, until Tommy came barreling through the door with his Hess Truck held high and the praise of Santa spewing from his lips, and Steve noticed that not everyone shared in Tommy’s delight. Most of them did, and a lot of them brought their favorite toy to school just like Tommy, but a few kids (maybe three) sat still in their chairs — like they could avoid any questions if they blended into the background. They ducked their heads and they sank in their seats, and Steve wondered if they also found out Santa wasn’t real.

But Tommy singled one kid out at recess. He dragged him out, to the center of the playground, and told everyone that Santa didn’t go to trailer parks, that the kids in Forest Hills didn’t get presents from Santa, because only good kids got presents, and how could they be good if they lived in a junk yard. Those words didn’t sound like Tommy, but he was always repeating things his dad said, copying him and taking his word as gospel.

The kid, scrawny with a shaved head and angry brown eyes, sank into his shoes. Not in retreat, not in a cowering way. He sank into his shoes like he was grounding himself, like he was making sure his footing was firm and steady, and he shoved Tommy right into the ground.

Of course, only then did a teacher interject, and only the boy Steve didn’t know the name of was dragged away to the office. Tommy angrily scrambled to his feet and spat at the ground where the kid had stood, remarking that he was right and the Forrest Hills kids were definitely on the naughty list, Steve, wasn’t he right? Did he see that? What a freak that kids was.

Steve rolled his eyes and didn’t say anything. He knew interrupting Tommy was just more hassle than it was worth, and Tommy was wrong anyway because Santa wasn’t real. He’d figure it out eventually, Steve supposed, but he wasn’t going to be the one to tell him.

It was his walk home that gave him an idea. He saw the bus pass by as he trudged along, down the road and off in the direction of Forrest Hills trailer park. He wondered if that kid from recess was there, if he saw Steve out the window as he passed, if he really didn’t get any presents. He thought about all the gifts his parents gave him that were still packaged up in his closet because he had too many and he didn’t really like them all. And he thought about how much he wanted someone to think about him on Christmas, with no other purpose or desire but to make him happy.

So, with an inkling of an idea creeping its way through his head, he ran the rest of the way home and pulled out the phone book from the hallway table, as well as his yearbook from the previous year. There weren’t many numbers from Forrest Hills, but he did find the three kids from his class and a couple from the year above. He picked out which of his unopened presents he thought they’d like the most, and he wrapped them crudely in leftover paper he found in the study. He ripped off a few pages from the note pad by the phone, and wrote out in his best writing:

From Santa, sorry I was late

And then:

P.S. my elf wrote this

Because his best writing was still pretty bad.

It took him a couple days to plan and gather things, but in the dead of night — after his neighbors clicked off their porch lights — he piled all five presents into a little red wagon and tied the wagon to the end of his bike. He took off toward Forrest Hills, a little list of names and addresses crinkled in his pocket. He tip-toed around the dirt paths, freezing in fear every time his little wagon’s wheels squeaked, and placed the presents and the notes from ‘Santa’ on the doorsteps that matched his little list. He checked it twice, just for fun.

He felt lighter on the ride back home, and not just because his wagon was empty.

Steve was seven when he decided to become Santa himself.

It wasn’t obvious, the next day at school, and Steve didn’t do it just to listen to kids whisper about Santa visiting Forrest Hills a week late, but he did notice something. The three kids who had sunk low in their seats the first day back, who avoided talking to the others to brag about their presents, were no longer trying to blend into the background. They sat comfortably in their seats, and whispered among themselves, eyes twinkling a little more than they had a few days ago. Steve was ecstatic. He sat, buzzing silently with excitement as he tried to keep his face blank and neutral. Santa had to be kept secret, after all.

He did it again the next year, adding the newest kids to his list from the years below him, and saved up his allowance to get some cuter presents for the girls; some nail polish and art supplies, some coloring books and beads. This time he wasn’t late, and his handwriting had improved a lot from the year before (though he still blamed the elves for his wonky letters).

He had fun, learning how to wrap the paper around each gift, saving up his money to pick out presents he hoped the other kids would like, wondering what their faces looked like when they opened the door to find a present on their front step.

He was a little worried that the kids would be concerned Santa hadn’t made it inside, being magic and all, but he also noticed that none of the trailers had chimneys so maybe that was okay. He also learned that most of the kids in Forrest Hills did get presents, and he felt a little stupid for assuming they didn’t just from Tommy’s dumb comments, but he also knew they weren’t the fancy presents other kids got like bikes and new games.

He tried making his Santa presents a little more extravagant. After all, why would Santa give Tommy a brand new Lego set, but give Willie across town a pack of baseball cards? Steve just wanted to even the playing field a bit, knock Tommy down a peg or two when he tried humiliating another kid on the playground and that kid said Actually Tommy, I got the new Hess Truck from Santa, too! And Steve remembered wrapping it up, much neater this time, and almost getting caught on the stoop when a dog started barking at him. He muffled a giggle into his hand when Tommy floundered for something to say, coming up empty handed.

As the years passed and the kids in his grade stopped believing in Santa, he scratched their names off his list. He kept adding to it as well, though. He paid attention to the new kids in each grade, noticed if they had a little less than those around them, noticed if they were on the outskirts or if they looked a little nervous as the holidays drew nearer and nearer. He left presents for the Byers one year when he heard that Jon’s mom lost her job after his dad left. He left presents almost all over town, had the phone book highlighted with every address he wrote down in his notebook — a much needed upgrade from the crumpled piece of paper in his pocket. He wrote a list, he checked it twice, and he made sure to slip through the dark like a shadow, avoiding anything that might give him away.

He was always surprised when no adults tried to stop him. Surely, the stoop presents were well known throughout town by the time Steve reached high school, but maybe they didn’t want to know who was behind it. Maybe they wanted to keep the magic alive, too. Either way, Steve played a successful Santa for nearly two decades before anyone found out.

It was Eddie.

It was always Eddie.

Eddie, the boy who knocked Tommy clear to the ground that first winter. Eddie, the boy who made Steve want to help. Eddie, the boy who received the first ever gift from Hawkin’s own Santa, though Steve kind of hoped that was a secret he could keep.

They were putting up the tree in their apartment, the first Christmas they were spending together. Eddie had brought several old ornaments from the trailer, ones that he stole from right under Wayne’s nose because lord knows the man wouldn’t want to part with them if he didn’t have to — a collector, that man was. Steve picked up one that, at first, had been unassuming, a clear bauble filled with glitter. Hanging it on the sad twiggy branch of their Charlie Brown tree, however, he noticed a little piece of paper inside. It was aged and a bit crumpled, but not too shabby for how old it was.

From Santa, sorry I was late, it read in squiggled, messy handwriting, the wonky letters leaning to one side more than the other.

P.S. my elf wrote this

Steve stared at it for entirely too long, catching Eddie’s attention as he hung the last ornament.

“Wayne made that one, if you can believe it,” Eddie said, tapping the plastic bauble with the nail of his pointer finger. “I mean, not the note,” he clarified, “that was Santa.” He whispered the last part conspiratorially, as if letting Steve in on a huge secret. Steve felt like he was going to cry, suddenly, the tears pricking behind his eyes. With a start he realized, selfishly, that he didn’t want Eddie to know. He wanted to keep this mystery alive for just a little longer, like a parent too sad to let their child grow out of the world of magic and wonder, like it was too soon though the secret had been brewing for nearly twenty years.

Eddie wrapped a cautious arm around Steve’s shoulders, unsure of where his sudden teary-eyed expression came from. Instead of facing his questioning look, Steve tucked his head into the crook of Eddie’s neck and listened as the man regaled him with the story of his first ever gift from the Santa Claus.

That year, Wayne had lost his job as a trucker because Eddie had fallen into his lap. He couldn’t leave the kid all alone, had to stay and take care of him, and he was between jobs until the holiday snuck right up on them both. They had a tree, just as shabby and sparse as the one they currently stood in front of, but there was no money to spare for gifts. Wayne had apologized, and Eddie had been very understanding for an eight year old — after all, he had been learning not to rely on adults, anyway.

He’d gotten in trouble when the school year resumed, however, for shoving an insufferable Tommy Hagan to the ground during recess. Of course Tommy hadn’t gotten in trouble, since vigilantism was an under appreciated form of justice, Eddie declared. Steve snorted into Eddie’s neck, just imagining the ranting tirade the skinny boy with a shaved head must have gone on, trying to defend himself to the principal.

Eddie was furious as he got back home, pissed off at Hagan, pissed off at his parents, pissed off at the world. And then — what to his wondering eyes did appear — two days later, Wayne had opened the door to the shittiest wrapped present he’d ever seen. Steve bit his tongue. It was for Eddie, according to the name scribbled onto the wrapping paper, and the little note declared it was a lost gift from Santa.

“Like magic,” Eddie smiled.

Steve had no idea that was his first Christmas at Wayne’s, and he had no clue what that first shove on the playground could lead to. He could still picture Eddie’s scrunched brow as he glared daggers at Tommy, could still remember the way he sank into his shoes and grounded himself for a fight, like he was used to it, like he knew what was coming. He wished he could picture Eddie’s face as he realized Santa hadn’t forgotten about him.

“Anyway,” he said, startling Steve from his thoughts, still tucked away in Eddie’s neck, “Wayne kept that note, and I think he’s got the one from the next year, too. He’d saved enough money for a couple presents that year, but I think he was grateful for a little extra help.”

Steve pictured himself, a tiny little thing, curled up in the living room, all alone on Christmas Eve as he wrapped up presents and wrote out his Santa letters. He remembered feeling less alone for the first Christmas in forever, because he was too busy sticking too much tape onto glittery wrapping paper and worrying about not getting caught to care that his parents weren’t home again.

He thought about the bag full of presents, tucked away in the back of the closet so Eddie wouldn’t find them, and his list of kids he collected from the library’s giving tree. He had planned on sneaking out, planned to slip away from Eddie’s prone form and deliver the gifts alone, like always, but Eddie squeezed his shoulder and kissed the top of his head and he realized that he didn’t have to be alone anymore. Maybe this year there could be two Santas, delivering gifts to the children of Hawkins in the dead of night. Maybe this year he could have some help. Maybe this year, there could be twice as much magic as the year before.

—

Bingo Prompts

[fallenneziah]

Deck the Hall (and Every Other Surface)

Summary: When going to spend Christmas with John's family, Price breaks out the Santa costume. But Santa is giving out more than paper wrapped presents when everyone goes to bed.

Cw: Anal, roleplay, blow jobs, semi-public, pet names, John Price as Santa, readers genitals are as neutral as possible.

A/N: I had this pretty kinky idea in my head and unfortunately because the writing program I was using has been giving me trouble, the project didn't come out white how I pictured it. This is for @the-californicationist . Your smut and writing in general is so delicious and I envy your skills, lol. I don't think my smut is as good as yours. But hopefully, it's still good. Also! The AO3 link to this story is available if you guys want to support it there too. And Merry Christmas from me!

A03 link.

________

John’s hand rested over your thigh, occasionally squeezing it as he drove down the barren road to his family’s house. White flurries blasted against the side of the car and windshield. Car wipers rhythmically waved back and forth to clear a way for John to see. The road ahead was pure white, a dangerous combination of slush and ice, but the tires of John’s truck kept you straight. The radio played the usual Christmas carols and the leather seats warmed by the heaters. You looked away from the frosty window and over at your fiance, a soft smile gracing your lips. His face fixed in a concentrated expression, the lines in his face leading into the salt and pepper chops on his chin. He had let it grow out over the month and it was just a tad fuller than usual. His freshly cut hair under his beanie sprinkled with grey.

You looked down at where his hand rested on your thigh, then at the ring on your finger. You were excited to tell his family, and after John proposed, you felt like you were on cloud nine. It was like Christmas came early for you. When he got down on one knee in front of the warm, crackling fireplace, his skin bathed in the hues of orange and red from the roaring fire. His blue eyes had been lit with the love he had when he first told you he loved you. You slipped your hand along his palm, and he adjusted his grip to hold your hand now instead of your thigh. “Something on your mind, love?”

“Mm, I love you, y’know?”

The concentration on his face melted away slowly for a small smile to grace his lips. “I love you too.” He gently squeezed your hand, his thumb brushing over the band on your finger. He traced it at night too. When he couldn’t sleep or would ponder things, your hand in his larger ones calmed him enough to find rest. Having you next to him was enough, though. In bed when he’d pull you close and set his chin on your shoulder, arms loosely resting on your stomach.

“Do you think your dad will come? If he knows?” You asked. You knew John didn’t exactly have the greatest streak with his father, one of those strict military types who tried to raise men who couldn’t bear to love themselves.

John’s expression returned to the strict, calculated gaze watching the road. “I haven’t gotten my hopes up in nearly forty years, love. I’m not about to start now.”

“I’m sorry.” You murmured. It was touchy for John, but sometimes you were too optimistic for reality to play into.

“Don’t be. He won’t show up. He didn’t for me, so why would he for us?“

“Well, I think we’ll have a good Christmas, regardless.”

—————

You arrived at John parent’s house pretty late that night. The driveway snowed over, though it looked like they’d shoveled earlier. John drove the truck up and parked, and his hand left your thigh. “I’ll bring the bags in.”

“I can help.” You offered.

He lightly shook his head and took the keys. “It’s not much. I’ll bring in the presents tomorrow.” You both hopped out of the truck, your hands sinking into the fuzzy and arm pockets of your jacket. The lack of his warmth next to you forced you forward up the walkway to the house. The front doormat was visible under the thin layer of snow, and the light on the other side of the glass window illuminated the obscured interior. You lifted your hand to the door, the cold air stinging your palm as you knocked.

After a moment, you saw a figure in the glass and the door cracked open, the face of a sweet older woman appearing. “Darling,” she exclaimed with delight, glad to see you. “Where is Johnathan?” She looked past you down the dark driveway.

“He’s just getting the bags. He’ll be right in.”

She nodded and let you come inside and sit by the fire. John eventually came in, the bags weighing down his arms, his biceps flexed and held them up with ease. He walked into the entryway and dropped them just in time for his mother to hug him and grip him. “Oh, Johnathan, glad you could come!” She squeezed him tightly.

You chuckled softly and smiled at John, and he awkwardly returned it over her shoulder. His mother was the only one you knew who got away with calling him Johnathan. Except for you on the occasion.

“The spare room upstairs is waiting for you two, John’s old bedroom.” She teased him, but he ignored it. “Thank you, mum.” He nodded for you to follow, and you did. You helped him with the bags, went upstairs, and got ready for bed. You stripped from your current clothing and into something more comfortable. John slipped into his cotton bottoms and crawled into bed, his arm laying across the bed where you’d faithfully settle every night against his chest. The warmth of his body, paired with his heartbeat, made you feel safe and cozy, his other arm loosely laying over your hip, his fingers tracing ghost shapes along your lower back.

—————

You were more or less used to John’s massive family. He had an older brother and two adopted siblings, both of which had children, and they were rowdy kids. John had warned you the first time, but you were acquainted with them now, nudging them toward their toys or their parents if you didn’t want to concern yourself with them. Of course, as soon as they noticed, the whole family was questioning you excitedly about the new band on your finger. John’s mother practically jumped on him when you told her he’d proposed only weeks ago.

Spending time with his family took a lot of energy, but John was always there to be a barrier between you and them if you looked like you needed to. But later in the evening, John left your side, his palm slipping out of yours with a quick squeeze and he disappeared upstairs. You continued to talk with his sister-in-law, trusting that he’d return quickly.

John came back down the stairs and his sister-in-law took her gaze off you and looked just behind you. The kids shrieked and got up from their toys, bursting into the living room as soon as they saw him. You turned and had to cover your mouth to suppress a laugh. John had dressed in the old red and white, the Santa hat perfectly positioned on his head. His salt and pepper beard complemented the white trim along the edge of the suit. It was thin; the fabric clinging to his chest. You smiled as the kids rushed to him, and he sat on the couch. “Ho ho ho.” He played along and bellowed it, picking up one kid. The parents and cousins all gasped and played along. Santa is in our living room! Crazy stuff.

Some kids were young enough that they wouldn’t be able to tell it was their uncle, even if he said it was him. He looked over at you briefly and saw the signs of the giggle you were holding back in your eyes. He gently tickled his youngest nephew. “What do you want from Santa, hmm??”

He giggled and flopped closer to him, grabbing his arm. “Lego!!”

“Legos??” He scratched his salty beard and nodded. “My elves have lots of Legos lined up for you. You’re on the nice list, after all.”

His nephew’s eyes lit up, but his older niece was already nudging in for her turn, so John switched them. The kids, one by one, told Santa what they really wished they had for Christmas. He got through them all and set the last one to the ground, then winked. “Well, my elves will come through soon, bedtime for you all.” He said, lightly shooing them. Their parents agreed with Santa, the couple’s going to send their children to bed.

The house was quieter for the moment. John’s older brother got out a bottle of wine and poured you and John a glass. The alcohol usually came out when the kids were gone. The night already felt over for you as well, but you took the glass and drank.

The evening passed, until it was late, an hour before midnight, when the adults finally decided it was their bedtime. As the sun sets and the kids finally tucked into bed, John slips downstairs, still wearing his Santa suit. He finds you laughing with his older brother, Tom, in the living room. He clears his throat loudly to get their attention, adjusting his belt. “Tom,” he says.

“Well, Santa’s here.” He saw the body language and slowly got off the couch. He said goodnight to you and disappeared down the hallway.

John smiled and sat down on the couch next to you. He eased into the cushions and patted his knee, clearing his throat.

You looked over at him. The longer he kept that thing on, the more attractive he looked in it. The glimmer of mischief in his eyes said he felt the same. You took another couple of sips of your wine and placed the glass down on the table. “John.”

He patted his lap again and adjusted his knees further apart, taking up more of the couch. The fabric strained across his hips; it wasn’t for such a big man; the belt stretched around his hips, the small portion of hard muscle and fat of his stomach cushioning the leather. “Well? Santa never got to know what you want for Christmas.”

That tone in his voice, no longer happy, jolly kid friendly Santa. You chuckled and lowered yourself onto his lap, your feet stretched out the rest of the couch length. “Hmm. What do I want?” You asked out loud, his hand faithfully finding its place on your thigh, the other embracing your lower back. “Spending Christmas Eve in Santa’s lap seems fitting.” You said, placing your hand on his chest, smoothing one button on the suit. Your fingers splayed over the center of his pecs, feeling the strength of his sternum.

“Maybe Santa should check if you’ve been naughty or nice this year...” His thumb traces small circles through the fabric of your jeans. “What do you think?” He ponders it, focusing on the feeling of his hand squeezing the fat of your thigh through the tight fabric, teasing traces along your hip.

You smiled a little, your fingers curling higher on his suit, teasing the fabric. What do I get If I’m not on the nice list?"

His fingers hook into your belt loop possessively as he feels your hand creeping higher on his suit. “If you’re on the naughty list...” He growls softly, leaning into your ear and kissing the corner of your jaw to coax you further into him. “Santa might just have to keep you up all night, teaching you a lesson... Making sure you know how to behave for next year...”

You swallowed. The words went right to your sex, shooting down your legs and making your body taut with arousal. “Oh, Santa.” You let out a breathy chuckle, his scruffy beard itching against your neck. “I’d hate for you to have to check the list, just for me.”

John considers what you’ve said for a second. He swallows back a groan as the suit strains against the erection that’s pressing up against it. Heat crawls up the back of his neck and he quells it by kissing your neck again, his teeth nipping at the soft flesh. His hand is itching to touch you, push your legs open and make you hump his palm. His free hand moves to cup your cheek, thumb tracing your bottom lip. Compared to your mouth, his thumb is rough but not harsh. He slides his thumb across your lip, groaning softly when your tongue flicks against it. “Maybe...” He whispers, “You could... convince Santa you’ve been good.” His voice drops lower. “Show me how good you can be...”

You squeezed his collar, then trailed your flat palm down his chest to his belt. You squeezed the leather, giving it a tug as you left his lap. His arms tensed. The absence of your body on his made his stomach twist. Your knees settled on the carpet, eye level with his straining erection.

“John,” you pulled the belt open and slid it down, his thick body shifting upward so you could get them down his knees. His thick, hairy thighs, caged in his prick, strained against his underwear. You knew the length under the thin fabric, and your hand dragged along the outline of his member.

John watched you with a stern expression, his wary eyes firm and fierce. They pursued your movements, watching as your hand delicately pulled back the skin on his head, knuckles meeting his hipbone softly. Your fist tightened, stroking back up, his tip weeping down his length, coating it in a sheen of pre.

Your wrist remained loose, dragging up and down, watching his cock grow firmer, veins kinking up the sides. Your hand was slick in pre-cum soon, his cock twitching and dripping between your fingers and through the gap of your index and thumb.

“Careful, little elf…” John smirked a little, his hand reaching out to brush your head. He leaned forward a bit, his thighs opening more, and his hand cupped the nape of your neck to bring you in. He coaxed you right between his thighs, his other hand taking his cock from your hand.

“Good, good job, little elf.” He praised with a few firm strokes to his cock. “Open up, your first present is ready…” His intense eyes watch your face, the flutter of your eyelashes, the way you licked your lips in anticipation. He tapped his cock against your bottom lip, leaving a small string of pre.

“That’s it.” He murmured, guiding you to take his cock between your lips. Your tongue pressed flat against his underbelly and your lips wrapped around him as he entered your mouth deeper. The firm length was familiar and welcome. You pushed him deeper into your throat, free hand pushing into the Santa suit to adjust his balls and squeeze them along with your mouth.

He groaned above you, his hand stroking your scalp, his gaze flicking between watching you and the hallway. His cock twitched and strained. The idea of being so open even in the darkness had him feeling naughty, but your lips were nice.

“Fuck, that’s it… that’s a good elf.” Job. approved, adjusting his hips so he could make shallow thrusts upwards. “Take it deep, darlin’, there ya go- there-“ He grimaced in pleasure, your lips pressing against his groin. Your nose against his trail of pubic hair, and your eyes on him. He shivered when your throat flexed around his prick, saliva dripping down the walls of your mouth onto his length, pushed up against the back of your throat.

Your eyes were a tad red, your lips swollen but tightly sealed around him.

“Good. Fuck, that’s it, little elf,” John said. “Keep sucking, make Santa proud.”

Your head bobbed, his thick length sliding along your tongue and the walls of your throat. Tears pricked your eyes from the exertion, coming up to suck along the tip, saliva leaking from your mouth down the side. Your hand clasped around his head, jerking it off while your mouth sucked one vein along the side.

John grunted, and his eyelids fluttered. He twitched, pre dripping down into the mix of saliva that slicked your hand and his prick. “Fuck, darlin’.”

You looked up at him mischievously, kissing and lapping at the vein, firm in your hands.

“Yeah, yeah- good little elf.” John gripped your head, smacking his cock against your cheek. “Open up… get your next present.”

You followed the tug and opened your mouth for him, his length sloppily pushing back into your mouth. He thrust up into you, holding your chin and head. “Take it.” He whispered, spurts of his cum filling your mouth. He shuddered as he released into you, your tongue lapping at him to get all of it.

He pulled his throbbing, swollen prick from your mouth and gave it a slow, soothing stroke. You opened your mouth, pushing the cum up on your tongue to show him before doubling your efforts and swallowing. Nearly made him hard again, right there.

He clicked his tongue and looked at the clock. “You’re not nearly done. I think you’re still on the naughty list.” He pulled his boxers up and adjusted the pants. The belt hung from his hips loosely as he motioned you upstairs into the guest bedroom.

Quietly, you followed, and he locked the door behind you. He kissed your neck and, reaching around, slowly undid your top. Your heart pounded, your body was warm. His hands opened the buttons on your sweater and pulled it off your shoulders. His kisses trailed down your bare shoulder and back, the itch of his beard following.

“John…” you whispered as you reached back for him. John merely diverted your hands, kissing down your arm and then back up to your neck. He licked your neck and clasped his lips around the skin, nipping it and sucking a hickey into the skin. All to distract you from the hand in your pants, sliding into your linen to tease your sex.

You breathed in sharply, his firm hand cupping between your legs like it was nothing. “Love those pretty noises.” He whispered against your neck, getting his hand wet with your excitement. “That’s it. Who’s a good elf?”

You nearly melted into him, his broad, firm chest braced for you to keep you up, your knees weak but he wouldn’t let you fall.

“Who’s a good elf, Darlin’?”

“Me.” You whispered back, only to whimper when John removed his hand.

“Mm, not yet.” He pushed you onto the bed and worked your pants down your hips. His heart pounded in tune with yours, the jeans coming off and he tossed them across the room. “Lay down, you’re gonna like this present.” He said with a rumble, parting your cheeks.

It made you gasp, gripping your biceps, stomach pressed into the sheets, and instinctively arching your back for him.

John chuckled and licked your taint, listening to your little gasp. It made his belly light with hunger, sealing his lips around your hole, lapping at the tight muscle, firm hands fondling the soft fat of your ass.

“Shit- John.” Your asshole clenched when he lapped at it, his warm tongue pushing in, making itself welcome inside you. Saliva dripped from your hole to his tongue, his beard scratching as he worked. His jaw didn’t stop, licking from the base of your sex to your asshole, flicking the tight ring.

“Open up, love.” He demanded, his hands squeezing you firmer. “Let Santa in.”

You shivered against the bed, a hand pinching your nipple, exhaling your noises halfway into a pillow. His tongue made your body react in kind, leaking pre onto the bed. The flicks of his tongue caught your sex, making you arch and buck your hips softly.

“John-“ You whined, the pillow taut in your hands. John smirked, two fingers replacing his tongue on your taint, pushing past the ring of muscle and into your tight channel.

“Oh-!” Your hips jumped, his fingers curled more, pushing deeper inside and working you open.

“Easy, good elf.” He gave your ass a firm smack, wiggling the fat and soothing the sting with his palm.

“Open up for me. There we go.” Your noises were music to his ears, better than any carol or hymn. He worked you deeper, pinning your back to the back and picking up your hips. He smacked your ass again, your little yelp making him grin.

He leaned back in and sloppily lapped your asshole, his beard picking up saliva and pre that dripped from your sex.

His cock twitched and stiffened against his pelvis, dripping against the bed. He rutted gently against the edge, veins pulsating while he ate you out.

“Fuck, you taste good.” He said between mouthfuls of your ass-cheeks and taint. Eventually, he pulled away and took the belt from his pants. He shoved down the red pants and coaxed your body to his whim. “Such a greedy little elf.” He smacked his wet cock against the hole, slowly pressing it in.

You groaned when he pushed his cock against you, his thick size forcing you open slowly. The wet heat of your dripping hole caved slowly, and he slid in. You could feel his body towering over you, your body trembling, sweat down your chest. “John-“

His hand covered your mouth, making you inhale your own scent off his callouses. You whimpered against him, his warm breath fanning your ear as he pushed in. “Shh, don’t want to wake anyone. Be Santa’s good little elf and let me fill this pretty hole.”

You groaned into the bed, squeezing fistfuls of the bedding against the pillow, your drool dripping down it. His cock seated inside you, filling you up. Your thighs trembled and your knees spread further apart. His hairy, muscular body leaned over you, covering you and placing one massive hand over yours, the other on your hip.

“That’s it.” He kissed your neck, his hips slowly rocking into your ass. “Fuck, nice and tight for Santa.” He teased, his voice low in your ear. His salt and pepper beard grazed your cheek, the hand on your hip snatching you back into his thrusting hips. His fat balls smacked against your sex as he picked up his pace.

You moaned, arching and curling your toes. His hands stopped your squirming, keeping you open as he fucked you. The kinked veins along his cock bulged as he slid out, your hole clinging on tight.

He continued to watch your face, his cock twitching hard when your eyes rolled back from pleasure. “You like that, don’t you, baby?” John whispered, his voice low with desire. “You love being my good little slut, don’t you?”

Your response was a whimper, your body shaking as he pushed back inside you. He watched your mouth open slightly, your tongue darting out to wet your lips as he thrust into your tight hole.

He thrust into you deeper and harder, his hips grinding into your ass. “Oh fuck, you’re so fucking tight!” He hissed, his fingers digging into your hips as he rammed into you.

You cried out, your body trembling with each thrust. Your hole clenched around his thick cock, pulsing with every thrust he made. It felt like fire was shooting through your body, and the pleasure was almost too much to handle.

His beard scratched against your skin as he leaned in to kiss your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. His balls slapped against your ass with each thrust, the sound echoing through the room.

“You like that?” He growled in your ear. “You like having Santa’s cock in your tight little elf ass?”

You whimpered, gripping the sheets tightly. “Yes,” you choked out, your voice high-pitched with excitement. He chuckled deeply, a cavernous sound that pierced the foreground and tunneled in your ears. Your hand slipped down between your thighs, groaning as the bed creaked beneath you. The hat on John’s head had long fallen off, running a thick hand through his hair, shaking his head like an animal while his hips rocked.

Your body shook uncontrollably, your ass clenching around him with every thrust. Your hands gripped the sheets tightly, your whole body trembling with each movement.

His cock pulsed inside you, filling you up completely. The veins along his shaft throbbed with each thrust, and you could feel his heart pounding in time with your own.

As he fucked you harder and deeper, he pulled on your hips, grinding them against his. His beard tugged at your skin as he kissed your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

“That’s it, baby,” John whispered, his breath hot on your neck as he continued to thrust into you. “You’re such a good little elf.” He said, his voice a low rumble as he fucked you deeper and harder. His cock throbbed inside you, pulsating with every heartbeat as sweat mingled on your bodies.

You moaned, arching your back and pushing back against him. Your hole clenched around his cock, milking him for every ounce of pleasure. The bed creaked beneath you, the sound mingling with your heavy breathing and John’s deep grunts as he fucked you senseless.

His hand slid down to your aching nipple, pinching it roughly between his fingers. You cried out, your body convulsing as electricity shot through you. “Cum for Santa,” John growled against your ear. “Come on, love.” He coaxed you, stroking his hand over your head, grabbing a handful of your hair and tilting your head back. He kissed your throat, reaching his other hand to stroke your sex. His cock strained against your quivering frame, your ass fluttering and clenching. A whimper tore from your throat as the pleasure built until you could no longer ignore it. You squirmed and trembled, coming in his hand. He groaned, your orgasm writing pleasure across your face. He pulled out with a slick pop, your hole puckering as he came across your back. Stripes of white landed across your ass and the small of your back.

“Christ, love…” He ran a hand through his hair, smiling wolfishly.

Your hips hit the bed, your back aching against the warm sheets. “John…” You panted heavily into the bed, feeling your heart violently pumping against your ribcage. Sweat dripped down your brow, your lips parted as harsh breaths escaped your lungs. John slowly leaned over you and kissed the corner of your mouth. “Did you like your present?”

You laughed softly, reaching up yo feel his chest with your hand. Rolling over, your hands cupped his face to kiss him properly. His tongue slipped past your lips and your bodies pressed together in the sheets. His hand slid up your thigh to your waist, giving it a squeeze.

“You’re naughty.” You whispered, though your lips formed a smile.

“For you, love.” He pressed his forehead to yours, sharing the oxygen between you. “Merry Christmas.” He whispered.

You chuckled breathlessly and kissed him again, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck.

[essiemclaren]

watch me win

in which lando was paid to fake date y/n!

pairing: mean!lando x reader

tw: super mean/rude lando and ofc angst

day 2

lando's text with the bros

lando's text with the reader

Life is unpredictable, but for Lando Norris, there was always a backup plan. He didn’t need to waste time stressing over what could go wrong; his mind was always three steps ahead. Quick moves, sharp thinking—that’s how he kept control. So, when he asked her out for Saturday, it wasn’t because he liked her. Far from it. He didn’t even find her interesting enough to care. She wasn’t some elusive beauty that had him tongue-tied. No, Lando asked her out because he was helping a buddy out, someone too spineless to handle their own situation. She was a tool, a temporary convenience to get what he needed.

Right after their day 1 of meeting, Lando... Oh, Lando instantly knew the way she clung to every word he said, the desperate way she hung on to each fleeting moment of attention—Lando could practically see it. She was that type, the one who’d find validation in any scrap of it, always eager to be the center of someone’s universe. It wasn’t even a challenge; she was a walking cliché, all wide eyes and innocent smiles, pretending she was so much more than the attention-seeker she really was. And Lando? He was just playing along, a momentary distraction, a little fun to help out his friend.

Nothing personal.

She wasn’t anything special—just someone who’d fall for the smallest gestures, starved for a taste of something that made her feel wanted. Lando didn’t mind giving her that. He knew she'd eat it up, desperate for it, clinging to the idea that this meaningless gesture somehow meant something more.

And for day 2? Since he asked her out for Saturday, he’d get a brand new motorbike—a sleek, custom bike, the kind that screamed luxury and power. Because why not take advantage of the situation, turning a simple play into something even more valuable than her fleeting attention?

Saturday

lando's text with the reader

lando's text with the bros

lando's post on x/twitter

After the whole thing was over, Lando leaned back, a smirk tugging at his lips as he replayed the night in his head. Did he regret it? Not for a second. She missed her precious dinner party, but that wasn’t his problem. He couldn’t care less. Her disappointment was just a footnote in his evening, barely worth a second thought. What mattered was the new ride waiting for him—shiny, powerful, and all his. He’d played the game, entertained her for a bit, and now he had what he wanted.

He didn’t regret a thing. Not for a second.

--

a/n: Hey everyone! I’m sorry this chapter is shorter than usual – I’ve been super busy, but I hope you understand! I really enjoyed writing this part and I hope you did too. I hope you’re all having a wonderful holiday break! Please let me know what you think about this chapter – your feedback means a lot. Again, happy holidays, take care, and I’ll be back soon! xx

-essie the elf 🎄

taglist: @5sospenguinqueen @bluethperson @mayusaatma @mountvesuvu @styl1shl1v @hotgirlslikemax @creamsteam3 @kravitswhore @issi-loves-dynamic @llando4norris @sunlithearts @osclerc @hurtblossom @miiaex @somerandomf1fan @nataliambc @saachiep81 @ironmaiden1313 @s-awturn @c4tc0re @dannyleclerc @lexiecampos @loloekie @idontknowanythingsblog @grovelingmen @cchewhaz @linneaguriii

[slimybeth69]

"i'll be here."

rating: explicit- for drinking and joel's dirty thoughts. This is pure fluff NO SMUT and it's probably kinda corny but I DON'T CARE.

summary: Joel wants to make sure your New Years Eve isn't lonely.

tags: jackson!joel, Joel's POV, no use of y/n, no physical description (just an outfit) fluff, so much fluff, pining, age gap, him being handsome and perfect, mentions of food, drinking, being intoxicated so maybe dub-con (but not really)

w/c: ~3.6k

a/n: the holiday was hard as hell this year and it really didn't feel like christmas at all, so i wrote this for myself because i was sad. i hope any of you all that needed Joel to come and sing you songs and play gui-tar find some comfort in this.

thanks for @creepycorbeaux for reading this over. thanks to @thelastofgala for those beautiful gifs and thanks to @saradika-graphics for the dividers.

Joel wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing walking to your house with a bottle of whiskey in one hand, and his guitar in the other, but he couldn’t stop thinking about what you had said last night on patrol. 

“Whaddya end up doin’ f’Christmas?” 

The face you make when you look over at him almost makes Joel smirk for a split second. The way your nose scrunches and the corners of your mouth turn down slightly. Like you’re confused and upset with him ,and all he did was ask you a simple question.

Then you respond, “Whachya mean?” 

Joel doesn’t know how to answer that because… what do you mean? Your eyes are still squinted— like there is some sort of distrust in your soul. Like Joel is playing a joke on you right now.

“Uh, well… Ellie and I went to Tommy and Maria’s...” Joel is uncomfortable suddenly; he forgets that not everyone is as lucky as he is to have family here in Jackson. He doesn’t know you nearly well enough, so now he feels like an ass. He shouldn’t be asking you anything like that.

Or anything at all not pertaining to patrol. 

You don’t say anything for a while, you just hold onto the strap of your rifle over your shoulder, and then adjust your grasp on the reins with your other hand. “I just stayed home,” you answer him quietly, almost like you don’t really want him to hear you. “Made myself a nice dinner, read a book and went to bed.” 

That ‘put your foot in your mouth’ feeling creeps into Joel’s stomach and he wants to ask if you’d like to give him a nice rocket to his left jaw. He doesn’t stay quiet for too long, he doesn’t want you sitting in this awkward smog he’s created. “That doesn’t sound t’bad, honestly. Whaddya make?” 

Joel watches you out of the corner of his eye as you once again adjust the reins in your hand, waiting for you to either respond to his question or tell him to shut the fuck up. 

He wishes you would tell him to screw off because he never tries to make small talk, and this is why! He always regrets it!

“Just a venison roast with veggies from the greenhouse.” You finally tell him with a little more life in your voice this time, like you were actually proud of what you cooked yourself. “What did you and Ellie do at Tommy and Maria’s?” 

“Had a few drinks, ate some food. Nothin’ crazy.”

Joel didn’t have the heart to tell you that Tommy and him spent most of the day drinking and reminiscing, laughing about being young, stupid kids. Or that Ellie and Maria baked all day, listening to Christmas music someone had found a while ago. He didn’t wanna subject you to all that, knowing now you were home alone.

Since that night on patrol, Joel can’t get the image of you sitting at home on a holiday all by yourself. 

Probably being sad. 

There isn’t any particular reason why he feels so compelled to come knock on your door, there are plenty of other lonely souls that spend every holiday with no one else around. 

There was just a pull. Something inside of him that said go go go. 

Go to her.

He doesn’t really even know what he’s going to say to you if you decide to open the door for him. Hell, he’s not sure you’re even going to let him in! You’ve only ever gone on two patrols together. Y’all never really talk outside of that, but that’s mostly because he doesn’t see you around.

Not like he’s looking for you, or anything. 

When he knocks, it’s like his heart might hammer right out of his chest. Why is he so nervous? He’s just here to offer you a couple drinks so you don’t have to ring in the new year all alone. 

Ellie was with Dina and the rest of her friends, Tommy and Maria wanted to call it an early night because of the baby, and so Joel had two options: the bar, or sitting at home alone. 

It’s not that Joel didn’t like being alone. He had been alone since Tess, and that was still something he didn’t like to think about too much.

Too much loss for not enough of — whatever they had been. Losing her had almost been the final nail in the coffin, and if it hadn’t been for Ellie -

Don’t think about it.

Now Joel finds himself on your front porch, holding the screen door open with his large frame, and knocking lightly with the ass end of the bottle of whiskey.

From inside he can hear you moving around. His breath hitches in his throat when you finally open up for him. Joel watches your eyes scan him very quickly, taking in the picture in front of you. Your eyes go wide for a second like you don’t understand why he’s here.

Joel Miller on your front porch with a bottle of whiskey and his guitar. 

“Whaddya doin’ here?” 

Joel holds the bottle up for you to inspect closer as you wrap your arms around yourself like you’re trying to hide from him. 

Joel’s never seen you without your winter jacket, hat and gloves. Right now in your house, you have on a blue sweater, a pair of tight elastic tights that Joel wishes he could see you in more often, and the warmest looking socks he has ever seen.

His eyes scan the length of your body again involuntarily. His gaze lingers on your pants once again– so tight and they hug your curves (that Joel didn’t even know you had) in all the right ways.  

“Well, I reckon I came over here hopin’ you had cooked another roast, since it sounded so damn good when you told me ‘bout it on patrol–”

Joel continues his bullshit rambles about why he came over here as you start to smirk, and take a step back so the door can swing open a little wider and he can make his way in.

“The guitar?” You ask as Joel toes off his boots so he doesn’t track snow through your house. He hands you the bottle of whiskey, shifting the guitar between his hands as he takes off his jacket. 

“Figur’d if you wanted to share any of the food you made– I could share the whiskey… maybe play a lil gui-tar for ya.”

The last time he played the guitar for anyone besides Ellie– Sarah was still alive. 

Who is this man?

There was just something about the way you said ‘I just stayed home’. Joel was thinkin’ maybe you didn’t read a book and go to bed. 

Maybe you cried a little, missing whatever you remember from home. 

Joel knows all about that, all about the sleepless nights when you just can’t turn your brain off. You can’t stop thinking about the people that are no more, about how different things are now and how you’d give anything for them to go back to the way they used to be. 

Joel has Ellie and Tommy. Who do you have?

“You’re in luck because I did cook tonight,” you’re smiling at him and he thinks this is the first time he’s ever seen you smile, too. 

So many firsts for Joel, he feels like a teenager as you lead him further into your house - which is clean and smells phenomenally good - and into the kitchen. 

Joel hadn’t expected you to actually offer him food, he didn’t know if you cooked dinners like that for yourself all the time, or only on special occasions. 

You take the guitar from him and pull out a chair at your kitchen table. For a moment he feels like his brain malfunctions and he’s not sure how to react. 

“You can sit,” You’re already in your living room. “I’m just gonna…” Then you trail off. 

When Joel peers around the corner to check on you, you’re very carefully leaning the guitar against the wall, holding your hands out to catch it in case it leans too far one way or the other.

Joel feels heat creeping up his chest and neck as he watches you, slightly bent at the waist. The tightness of your pants— 

Nope.

Once you’re satisfied that the guitar won’t fall, you turn around and smile at him, even though he’s just standing there watching you like an idiot– blushing!

Blushing?

Part of him thinks this was the worst idea he ever had. How could you be doing this to him and you’ve done absolutely nothing? 

He should go home. 

“Sit!” You urge him to take a seat at the table while you basically prance into the kitchen to start serving him a plate. Everything is still sitting on the stove in the pots you cooked in.

You explain that you already ate because you weren’t expecting company. 

Joel almost tells you not to worry about the food, but then what would he do? Play guitar for three hours? Getting drunk and talking all night seems like a terrible idea. 

What the fuck was he thinking? This was the dumbest thing he’s ever done, it really was. 

He shuts his mouth though when you set down a plate of steaming food in front of him. 

“Dig in! I have more than enough if you want a second plate.” 

The way you talk so casually, like you’ve known Joel your whole life while you walk back into the kitchen makes him jealous. 

How are you so nice? Sweet? 

You haven’t even been here for four months and this is the first time either of you have said more than ten words to each other that didn’t have to do with patrol. 

It’s the way your body moves when you walk without all your winter gear on. You sway… almost like you’re floating.

Knock it off, old man. She’s half your age. 

Joel has to squeeze his eyes shut for two seconds until he hears your feet padding back to the table. When he opens them, you’re pushing one of the glasses in his direction.

“You brought the booze, so you have to pour it.” 

The smile on your face makes Joel feel a mix of pride and guilt. 

What are you expecting of him? He can’t give you more than just tonight. He knows that, he hopes you know that too.

Joel opens the bottle and pours each of you a decent, sippable glass.He should have poured himself less. 

Probably should have poured you less.

The food tastes better than Joel’s had in years. He even finds himself asking for seconds, something he rarely does.

You’re making small talk as he eats, asking about his travels and how long he’s been in Jackson. If he likes it here, how old is his daughter.

Joel decides not to tell you that Ellie isn’t really his daughter, because biologically she isn’t, but it hasn’t felt that way in a long time.

As he eats, and you chat, Joel starts to relax a little. Your presence is calming, and he finds himself enjoying your company more than he thought he would. He pours both of you another drink, his regrets of pouring less last time completely forgotten.

The food is gone and you’ve cleared his plate. But the two of you are still sitting at the kitchen table. He’s not sure if it’s the fact that this is another first— seeing you up close like this. In the light of your kitchen Joel can really take in your features; your cheeks when you smile, and the way your eyes light up when you laugh at some dumb joke he tells.

You ask him about his life before the outbreak, and Joel hesitates before giving a very brief summary of his past. He doesn’t like talking about it all, and he avoids bringing Sarah up completely.

Not tonight. Probably not ever.

You listen attentively and ask Joel questions that show you’re actually interested in what he’s saying.

Joel continues to pour the two of your drinks each time your glasses are empty and you never tell him to stop. You suggest moving to the living room where it’s more comfortable, and Joel agrees without hesitation.

Go home. This is going to end badly.

There is a fire going in your fireplace, and Joel can’t sit down until he puts another log or two on, and he has to move some things around to get it going again.

“I can do it myself,” you say from directly behind him, sounding a little offended.

Joel doesn't even look at you when he responds, "I know you can. Just helpin'."

When he finally turns around, you quickly look away. Joel can’t help but smirk and feel that familiar in his lower belly.

Had you been staring at him?

Joel watches as you sink down into the brown leather couch, curling up with your feet underneath you. He settles beside you with just enough distance to be polite.

“What songs do ya’ know?” Your voice is soft and your words are slightly slurred. The alcohol has definitely started to affect you, but Joel doesn’t think you’re that drunk yet.

Joel looks at the clock on your wall and it reads 10:45 PM. He can do this. An hour and fifteen minutes left, then Joel can escape.

Not that he wants to. He has to or something bad is going to happen. Something he regrets. 

Something you might regret. 

But when you ask him about songs, he can’t help but smile. The alcohol is going down too easily, way too easy for both of you.

Joel clears his throat. "Whaddya wanna hear?"

You shrug, your cute blue sweater sliding off one shoulder. Joel has to fight himself to keep his eyes on your face as you mindlessly tug the sweater up. It’s like you didn’t even realize it happened. You kept your eyes on him the entire time.

"Somethin' that makes you happy."

The fact that you’re moving your feet to tuck your toes underneath Joel’s right thigh is sending electric shocks to his brain. He leans and grabs the guitar off the wall– careful to not move too much so he can keep the contact between the two of you. 

Shit. What is he getting himself into?

Joel holds the guitar, fingers tracing the old wooden curves. It's been a while since he's played at all. The strings feel ice cold under his calloused hands.

Joel strum a couple cords, “Know a few songs,” he says, clearing his throat. “Might be a lil rusty though,” he smirks at you and gives you a sideways glance. 

You smile from behind your whiskey glass and Joel feels something shift inside him. Something he hasn't felt in a long time. 

Something dangerous.

Your eyes are glittering in the firelight— different than they had looked in the artificial light of your kitchen. It casts a warm glow across your face, softening the edges that Joel has only ever seen sharp and alert on patrol.

He clears his throat once again and continues to move his fingers along the frets. The first few notes come out slightly off-key, but Joel quickly finds his rhythm. He starts with a Garth Brooks song.

Joel knows he’s not the best at the guitar and he doesn’t play it nearly as often now that Ellie is so busy with her own life. 

You don’t seem to mind, and sometimes Joel misses a chord or messes up completely because he can’t stop glancing over to watch you watching him.

He starts to sing, his voice low and gravelly. It's not a perfect voice - never was - but there's something raw and honest in the way the words tumble out.

… Blame it all on my roots, I showed up in boots And ruined your black tie affair The last one to know, the last one to show I was the last one you thought you'd see there

You shift slightly, your toes still tucked under his thigh, and Joel catches you watching his hands. Even as he continues to sing. You never take your eyes off of him. Not once.

… 'Cause I've got friends in low places Where the whiskey drowns and the beer chases my blues away And I'll be OK Yeah, I'm not big on social graces Think I'll slip on down to the oasis Oh, I've got friends in low places

Joel's voice falters for a moment when he notices the concentration of your gaze. His fingers momentarily stagger on the guitar strings, creating a clashing note that lingers in the air for a moment before he continues.

You don't seem to notice, or care. Your eyes are locked on his hands, watching how they move across the guitar with a kind of reverence that makes Joel's breath catch. 

Joel finishes the song, letting the last chord ring out softly in the quiet room. For a moment, neither of you moves. You're still watching him, your eyes heavy-lidded from the whiskey, but there's something else there too.

Joel’s eyes fall on the clock on your wall and it’s only 11.

He’s completely fucked.

Joel becomes acutely aware of how close you are.

Your toes are still tucked under his leg, and the warmth of your body seeps through the denim of his jeans. Joel swallows hard, trying to ignore the way his heart is racing.

"Another song?" you ask, your voice soft and slightly husky from the whiskey.

Joel clears his throat. "Sure," he manages, repositioning the guitar.

Joel starts strumming again, this time a slower, more mournful tune. His fingers find the familiar chords of an old country ballad, something he used to play for Sarah when she was real little. Before the weight of being a single dad started to apply pressure.

The memories threaten to overtake him, but he forces them down, focusing instead on the way the light flickers across your face. He can feel the heat of your body against his leg, the whiskey making everything feel soft and blurry around the edges. His voice is lower now, almost a whisper, like he's singing just for you.

Joel sings a couple more songs, a few at your request.

"That was really good," you say softly, your eyes meeting his. There's something in your gaze that makes Joel shiver - it’s a weakness, a longing that mirrors something deep inside himself.

When he looks at the clock again it’s 12:30.

“We completely missed new years,” Joel points to the clock and chuckles. He had completely forgotten that’s why he came over here originally. Once the music started, everything else kind of faded away. 

It was just the two of you while the rest of Jackson, and possibly the rest of the world stopped existing in that short time. 

“I was havin’ a good time,” you’re still smiling at him and now he can see how glassy they are from the whiskey. 

“Y’look like y’were havin’ a good time, darlin’.” Joel smiles and starts to stand up from the couch. It’s not until he’s standing directly in front of you realize what’s happening, Joel watches your eyes shift and change. 

Are you panicking?

“Are… were–” you cut yourself off and shake your head, waving a hand at Joel dismissively. “Nevermind. Thank you for coming over.” When you turn to look at him, your eyes are rimmed with a glossy sheen. The whites of your eyes had turned a hazy shade of red.

“S’wrong?” 

You shrug your shoulders, your sweater falling off your shoulder again. You don’t notice and twirl your whiskey glass in your hand slowly. “Nothin’. I had a good time… just sad you gotta go.” 

Joel knows he shouldn’t, but he gently replaces your sweater, his fingers lingering on the warm skin of your collarbone for a moment before he pulls away. “I’m all outta songs, sweetheart.” 

“You don’t wanna stay?”

Joel swallows hard and then cuts you off, “For what?” Joel whispers it and you snap your head up to look at him, almost as astonished as he is. Joel knows that the liquor and the way you had been looking at him all night is a recipe for disaster. 

Make me leave, please. Kick me out. Don’t ask me to stay again because I won’t be able to say no.

You finish the last of your whiskey before setting your glass down on the coffee table in front of your couch. 

“You know what.” 

“I do… but we’ve been drinkin’... ‘n I don’t want ya’ regretti–”

“What is there to regret?” you whisper. Your hand snakes into his and Joel doesn’t pull his away or nothing. “You gotta know more songs.”

Joel sits down beside you again, sighing loudly like this is a giant inconvenience to him, but a part of him knows that this isn’t going to end–

Not at all. 

Once he takes you upstairs, it’s over for the both of you. It’s like he can taste it in the air. 

“One more,” Joel nods his head at you. “Then I’m leavin’.” 

He and you both know that’s not true. 

His fingers find their holds on the neck of the guitar and he looks over at you before he strums the first note. 

You shy away from him, tucking your toes back under his thigh. Joel lifts his leg slightly so you can slip them deeper under his leg. 

There's no stronger wind than the one that blows Down a lonesome railroad line No prettier sight than looking back On a town you left behind There is nothin' that's as real As your face that's on my mind

Joel changes the lyrics just a little, and he doesn’t know if you notice, or even if you know this song. He's not ready to sing about love, not at all.

He confidently sings you the next part though.

Close your eyes I'll be here in the morning Close your eyes I'll be here for a while

hopefully y'all had a better time than I did.

love you all so so much

[foodiegoogie]

pahinga (rest)

remus lupin x fem!reader | 1.7k

summary: remus can’t sleep again. luckily, you come to save him, and he finds his rest in you. cw/tags: self-deprecation, slight anxiety (?), three little eepy bois and one (1) insomniac, peter pettigrew appears (he’s not corrupted here), hurt/comfort <3 note: 'pahinga' means rest in filipino. its root word, 'hinga,' means 'to breathe/breath.' the 'pa' part can make it literally mean, 'let me breathe.' also, u can never have too much “reader patches up remus after a full moon” fics 🥰🥰 p.s. the vibes are inspired from isa lang (only one) by arthur nery <3

It’s way past midnight in the Hospital Wing, and Remus knows this because his friends are knocked out around him; James is sprawled out like a starfish on a cot to his left, Sirius laid asleep at the edge of Remus’ own cot, and Peter had long since made himself comfortable in the cot on the right, curled up in a blanket. 

Usually, they’d be up late with Remus. Something about boys being boys, having an endless amount of energy surging within themselves. But they were also only human at the end of the day, despite being unregistered Animagi. 

Remus also knows that he should be asleep himself alongside his best friends, but this particular night had taken a toll on him. Sure, he’s had full moon nights happening every month, every year, ever since he was turned at four years old. But regardless of how frequent they took place, it never became easy to deal with for the lycanthrope. Especially not now while he’s unable to sleep.

Poor Madam Pomfrey—she’d given Remus countless potions to aid him in his condition, time and time again. But it seems like even the Sleeping Draught that was brewed for him earlier just couldn’t work on him either.

Thinking about failing to fall asleep is ironically keeping him from falling asleep. Remus Lupin is, quite frankly, stressing out about not being asleep yet. He knows he needs it, so why can’t he do it? He almost feels immensely envious of how easy it was for his own friends to have fallen asleep quicker than he did, and he was the one who turned into a werewolf that night. 

Remus turns his head to get a look at Sirius’ slumbering face where it lay at the edge of his cot. Sirius is a handsome being, whether asleep or not. But right now, his wide-awake friend doesn’t know whether to be glad because he gets to appreciate his friend’s company because he’s asleep, or if said friend should be frustrated for the very same reason.

Before Remus even gets to decide however, he hears footsteps scurrying towards the entrance of the Hospital Wing. He perks up at the sound, attempting to sit up in his cot but failing, wincing as he was reminded of his injuries.

He doesn’t know which comes first: the sound of the double doors being pushed open or the bags of chocolate falling to the ground, coming from your arms.

Remus’ bleary eyes flicker over to your incoming presence - how he knows you’re here for him is needless to say with the bags of chocolate you’re re-gathering in your arms presently. He sees you throw an apologetic glance, mouthing “sorry,” but Remus receives it with a lazy smile, more amused and fond than it was teasing.

“Hope I didn’t wake them,” You whisper to him as you approach his cot, looking warily at the three slumbering boys surrounding him. Remus feels compelled to follow your gaze towards them, address that you didn’t actually wake them (and he’s certain that you didn’t, the lads sleep like a log), but his eyes remain on you as well as his smile.

“What’re you doing here?” He murmurs.

You scoff quietly, giving him an incredulous look. “What, not even a ‘hello, how are you?’ You’ve changed, Lupin.” 

Remus’ smile widens at your words, the familiar banter bringing a lighthearted feeling in his chest. He doesn’t know if it’s because of his fatigue mixed with frustration that’s making him feel lightheaded, but he finds himself momentarily entranced by the sight of you as you start to near him in his cot. The moonlight which filtered through the windows finally landed on your features, and Remus was convinced at that moment that he’s met an angel in person: you.

“Anywho, I come bearing gifts,” You perch yourself on the edge of his cot, setting down the array of chocolates beside him. Remus shifts so that there’s more room for you in his bed.

He looks down at the sweets, the corners of his lips quirking up into a lazy smile, then looks back up to you. 

“Dark or milk?” Remus asks.

You furrow your eyebrows, giving him an incredulous look to which the boy grins at. “Milk, duh. I’m not dumb, Remus. You only go for dark when you’re feeling fancy.”

It’s true; Remus doesn’t like dark chocolate as much as he likes milk chocolate, which is a classic and a whole lot sweeter than the former. He tries not to think too hard about how you knew that about himself like it was just sitting casually in the place of your mind. He wonders, then, about what else you knew about him, and took care to remember and save for times like this. His heart races at the thought. 

“Did you come all the way here to butcher me for my taste in chocolate? Flattering, really,” Remus quips, reaching for one of the chocolates.

“No. I came here to do just that and more actually,” You mirror his actions, unwrapping the chocolate from its plastic shell, popping the whole treat in your mouth all in one go. 

It’s a lot more attractive than Remus would like to admit - you being so unapologetically yourself, uncaring about being seen as prim and proper. Here you are, sitting in front of him, munching on the chocolates you’ve brought him and looking like a squirrel stuffing nuts in its mouth for the winter. Adorable, he thinks.

But then your eyes narrow at him, and he’s caught in the act of shamelessly staring at you. It’s only then that he realizes that he has been staring at you.

“See something you like?” You wriggle your eyebrows suggestively, reaching for another chocolate from the dwindling bunch on the bed.

“No,” His voice comes out a little breathy, an octave a tad higher than what’s normal. Remus clears his throat. “Just- it’s amazing how you keep going.”

You pause mid-bite into another chocolate drop, putting it back inside its plastic wrap with a sheepish smile. “Right, I brought these for you. Not for me.”

“S’alright,” Remus smiles fondly at your suddenly shy expression. “I couldn’t finish them all by myself, anyway.”

A soft chuckle falls from your lips, shoulders relaxing from his reassuring words. Even in such a state, Remus still goes out of his way to make sure people are cared for in his own, heartwarming ways. But rarely does he ever take the time to inflict the same kind of treatment to himself. 

And, speaking of which—

“I thought you’d be asleep, you know,” You blurt out all of a sudden, fidgeting with the unwrapped, uneaten chocolate in your hands. “coming here. So… why aren’t you?”

“Dunno,” Remus lets out a deep sigh, his fatigue finally coming through in his expression. Your chest tightens at the sight and sound of it.

Finally, he finishes, saying, “I just… can’t.”

Almost instantly, a knot forms between your brows at the same time the corners of your lips turn downwards into a slight frown. Remus hates being pitied. He’s had enough of people apologizing on his behalf, as if he had been a mistake in the first place long before he was given this unfortunate tragedy, a weight he has to bear on his shoulders for the rest of his life. 

But with you, it’s never pity that he sees in your eyes when you look at him. It’s something warmer, something that’s coming from a deeper place of intent. Something like care—genuine care, and concern. Perhaps there’s more than that, but Remus is already dizzy enough as it is right now, and he doesn’t want to render himself unconscious just because he’s feeling a little lovesick by you. 

“Oh no, I’m keeping you up, aren’t I?” You say, and Remus is a bit startled by it. You don’t notice. “Should I leave? I– I feel like I should leave—”

“No, no. Just—” Stay.

Remus reminds himself to be very careful with his next words, lest he betrays his true feelings and ruins one of the few good things he has in his godforsaken life. 

Another thing that he hates is owing people something, or anything really. It’s no big deal for him to go out of his way and be the giver rather than the receiver out of a pair, but it bothers him to no end to think that he’d actually have people do something—anything just for him. 

For some reason, it just feels… wrong for him. Almost as if Remus believes that he doesn’t deserve that kind of treatment. 

But for the love of Merlin, he’d really like to get some sleep, and he really likes you being here with him. And if you walked right out of the Hospital Wing right now, leaving him alone, Remus is certain that he’d be getting no sleep at all. 

So, just this once, he’ll be selfish. 

“Just… just talk to me. Tell me about your night.” 

You furrow your eyebrows, a slightly amused smile coming alive on your face as you ask, “My night? Well, my night’s going pretty well right now.”

Remus rolls his eyes, but the smile on his face betrays his true emotions. “Tell me about your day, then.” 

Now, a full-blown grin takes place on your face. “Now that I can do.”

And so, you start telling him about your day in a hushed voice, careful not to be too loud as you recount something that had made you happy during the day so as not to wake the other three boys you’re surrounded by. 

Far along the way as you’re speaking to him, your hands—yours and his—drift closer and closer to each other. Remus wonders if you notice this, even as you’ve taken ahold of it now and started to play with his fingers absentmindedly.

Before he knew it, he was on the way to dreamland by the ticklish yet gentle feeling of you tracing the lines of his palm, coupled by the soft timbre of your voice, low and sweet. 

It is then that Remus realizes that he finds his absolute rest in you. 

A shame that he managed to miss the featherlight kiss you leave on his forehead as you bid him a good night, though. 

aaa thank you for reading! (づ￣ 3￣)づ as always, likes, replies, and reblogs are very much appreciated !! <3

[jiniretracha]

𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐮𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝟏𝟎 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 - 𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐅𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐱

Pairing: Lee Felix x fem!reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, slight smut (piv!)

Summary: Felix Lee makes a bet with his co-workers in which he had to make a woman fall in love with him within 10 days, but he picks the wrong woman, who's working on an article for the magazine she works for called 'How To Lose a Guy in 10 Days' and she had chosen him as his prey. Based on one of my comfort movies: How To Lose a Guy in 10 Days (2003).

Word Count: a whooping amount of 13.2k

PS: this is an old fic of mine from my old ao3 account (that i don't use anymore lol), i rewrote it with Lix instead. You can check it out here. Also, i proofread this but i don't trust myself that much so, if you see any mistake, feel free to let me know pls.

MASTERLIST // my Ko-Fi

Day 1

“I’m going back to bed, I have no reason to live”

“Oh Karina! Come on. Get up, I’m not gonna let you lose your job over a stupid guy” you said.

Karina laid in bed, tears both fresh and dried on her cheeks, heartbroken over a guy she met, fell in love with and then told her he didn’t want anything serious. 

“Oh, oh Y/N” Karina said, hugging you. 

“You only dated the guy for a week” You reminded her in a whisper. 

“It was the best week of my life, Y/N. He was perfect” she sniffled. 

You sighed and pulled away from the hug. “Come on. I’m sure Seulgi yelling at us because we didn’t write the article like she wanted us to will bring you back to reality and will make you forget about the douche you dated” you said with a smile, making her chuckle.

You helped her get dressed and then got in a taxi to the Composure offices, where you, Karina and your other best friend, Ryujin worked. Composure was a ‘girly or gay’ magazine, as everyone liked to call it, created by Kang Seulgi, where you could find either the latest trend in fashion, the Kardashians latest fake scandal or how to catch men like Harry Styles. You found all the articles that were written in the magazine a little bit sexist, you studied journalism to become a real one, not a gossip writer for a cheap magazine. But it was a job that gave you a certain status, you couldn’t complain. 

When you arrived at the Composure offices, you opened the door of the cab for Karina, who held a couple of tissues in her hand. She blew her nose and got surprised by Ryujin who was holding a cup holder with 3 newly ordered coffees from Starbucks. “Hey honey” Ryujin winced when she saw Karina state.

“I don’t really wanna talk about it okay?” she smiled through the pain, making you and Ryujin nod. 

You got inside the big building and pressed the button that led to the Composure floor. 

Karina broke down and leaned her head on the elevator wall. “Why? Why does this always happen to me? I get this great guy, and everything’s amazing for a week and a half, and suddenly, it’s over and I’m mystified!” she cried. 

The people inside the elevator were looking at the girl with furrowed eyebrows and you glared at them, making them look the other way.

“Mingyu and I had such a connection” she gushed over him. “Like-like the first time we had sex, it was so beautiful. I even cried” she said.

You pressed your lips together, suddenly very aware of the people inside the elevator. “You mean like, shed a tear, wiped it with a finger. Right?” 

“No, I was very emotional. I even told him that I loved him” she explained, with a shake of her head.

“After how many days?” Ryujin asked sipping on her coffee to hide her grimace.

“Five” she said and then looked the other way. “Two”

You and Ryujin sighed loudly.

“But… I just felt like he needed to know” she said. 

“Well, what did he say?” you asked.

Karina sighed. “He didn’t have to say anything. I knew he felt the same as me” she smiled and then she frowned. “But then he started getting really busy… I didn’t know where he was at times. I kept calling him, calling him and calling but he was never home!”

“You kept calling him?” You asked, wincing.

“Well he wasn’t answering” she defended herself. “Plus he didn’t know it was him, my number was blocked”

“Oh sweetie” Ryujin said. “I’m sure he thought it was one of his friends”

The elevator dinged and you got out, Ryujin and Karina following behind. 

“Rina, honey. You do realize you were way too pretty for him? I mean, you were like Kaia Gerber when she was dating Pete Davidson!” you explained. “You need to be in a relationship like Megan Fox and Machine Gun Kelly, you can’t decide which one is hotter” 

Karina huffed. “Maybe but… for me, he was really handsome. And cute. Ugh, he was perfect” she said and a few tears slipped from her cheek.

“No, wait. Don’t cry honey. What Y/N and I want to say is that you need to realize that if this guy didn’t like you for who you were, then screw him” Ryujin explained. 

“Yeah, but I know why he dumped me. I’m too fat” 

“You’re not fat!” both you and Ryujin said.

As you climbed up the stairs to get to your respective offices you sighed. “Okay, Rina, look. Even if the most beautiful girl in the world acted the way you did, a normal guy would still be running in the other direction” you said, as your friends followed behind you. 

“No guy would be running away from you, Y/N” Karina said. “I mean, you could barf all over him and he’d say, “Thank you, can you please do it again?”” she said, making you laugh.

“Okay, that is absolutely disgusting and totally not true!” you laughed at her metaphor. “Cause if I did the things you did, I’d get dumped too. Anyways, enough with this Mingyu bullshit. I got two tickets for the Knicks game for tomorrow that Ryujin got from his cousin, and since you’re the only one available, you could join me, maybe?”

“Nah thanks, I’d like to sit in my misery for a couple more days” Karina sighed. 

The three of you got inside Seulgi’s office along with other co-workers. 

“Alrighty, family. What do we got for the next issue?” Seulgi asked.

Ryujin raised her hand. “As you asked, I got the latest The Bachelor drama covered, and I also answered a few of the questions users asked us on the website”

Seulgi nodded. “Great work, Ryujin. What about How-To with Y/N?”

You smiled. “I worked on something different and completely new for the issue. It’s uh… a political piece--”

“--Y/N. You work for Composure magazine. Not Forbes” Seulgi said sternly. “We are fashion, drama, gossip, cosmetic surgeries, you name it. That’s what Composure is about”

“Yeah, I know but--”

“Y/N, you writing in the column is new for you, I get it. But you’re working for me , and until I decide when you are going to write whatever you want, you write whatever I want. Okay?”

“Yeah” you nodded, looking at your skirt, not wanting to look Seulgi in the eyes. 

“Karina, what do you got?” Seulgi sighed.

She lifted her head and paled. “I…Uh… sorry, Seulgi. I wasn’t feeling very well” Karina said.

“She got dumped” Ryujin quickly filled in, earning a glare from Karina. 

“Oh, no… Karina. It must be feeling hellish for you these past few days, but I must say you’re looking gorgeous” Seulgi complimented. “Doesn’t she?” she asked and everyone nodded, complimenting her. 

Karina sighed. “I haven’t been eating since the split”

“Good for you! Write about it” Seulgi said. Ryujin and you looked at each other and grimaced. 

“I can’t use my personal life as a story” she said, her voice small.

Seulgi smiled. “I understand completely. Who will use Karina’s story for their article?” she asked suddenly. 

“No, no, no. Wait, Seulgi. With all due respect no one has business here using my story for an article in a magazine, I’m sorry but--”

“I’ll do it” you said suddenly, an idea clicking in your mind. 

“What?” Karina looked at you. 

“I-I’ll sort of do it. You’ll be my inspiration” you said. “Like, look at Karina. She’s a great girl, right?” you asked, and Seulgi nodded with a curt yes and nodded for you to continue. “An amazing woman. But… she has a problem hanging onto relationships. No offense. And probably, doesn't know what she’s doing wrong, like it could happen to our readers. So, my idea was that I could start dating this guy and then drive him away but only using these common mistakes like girls like Rina or our readers commit all the time. I’ll even… keep a diary of it and it will be sort of a dating how-to in reverse”

Karina smiled at you and Seulgi clapped her hands together. “What not to do. Brilliant!” 

“Yeah”

“How to lose a guy in 10 days” Seulgi said. “Loved it, go. Now Sunoo, what’s the shoe story you wanted--”

“I’m sorry, Seulgi. Ten days? Why ten days?” you asked.

Her eyebrows arched. “Well, I figured 5 days is too short and we go to press in 11, so…” she said. 

Karina and Ryujin gave you thumbs up, making you smile at them, but innerly wondering how the hell would you manage to do this in only ten days.

-------------------

Felix Lee arrived at his office, parking his motorbike and taking off his helmet. As always, earning smiles and flirtatious looks from the ladies in the streets, but he loved the attention. 

Working as a publicity chief had its perks. You could share an office with your best friends and have an assistant that brings you lunch or whatever you want, but it also had its drawbacks like having a boss who’s riding your ass. That was Felix’s case. 

Felix got inside the building and into his office. “What’s up, Hyunjinnie?” he said.

Hyunjin looked up from his computer and smirked. “Oh, hey, Lix”

Jisung, his other best friend, got inside with a worried look. “Did you hear?”

“Hear what? About the Knicks game tomorrow? I did, and it’s pretty terrible, cause I didn’t get the tickets--”

Jisung sighed. “Not about the Knicks game. De Lauer diamonds is looking for a new ad agency and Mr. Park wants to move it aggressively”

“Yes!” Felix smiled. “Yes! This is a good day. Guys, did you know that diamonds are as common as taxis on Fifth Avenue?” he asked while taking his shirt off, and grabbing his dress shirt from the desk. The women in the office every day went crazy whenever he came in with a normal, regular shirt and changed it for a formal one. “The value is entirely sentimental… but we do have game in what we do the best. Advertising. So, my point is--” he said while buttoning his shirt up. “De Lauer owns the diamond market, meaning, if I represent them, I basically own everyone’s ass in the industry” he smiled.

Hyunjin sighed. “That’s the thing, Mr. Park already gave it to the Chaeyoung’s”

Felix’s eyes narrowed. Son Chaeyoung and Park Chaeyoung were his number 1 competitors inside the publicity business. “No way!”

“Yeah, it kind of makes sense when you have a pair of hot leggy chicks and we’re the beer and sneakers division, you know?” Hyunjin said. 

“No way, I’ll have this deal” Felix said.

Jisung and Hyunjin stepped in his way. “No, Mr. Park is on a plane right now, business meeting. He’s having dinner with the Chaeyoung’s tonight”

“Where?”

“At Yu Bar” Jisung said and Hyunjin nodded. 

“That fancy shithole? I’ll crash there and claim what’s ours guys. This will be my pitch, my account, my campaign, my baby. I make the rules now” he smirked. 

“It’s kind of hard when you have a millionaire right above your ass but we get your point bro, we’re with you” Hyunjin said with a shrug. 

“Hell yeah” Jisung smiled. 

----------------------

After work, you and the girls prepared yourselves to set a trap for the guy you were going to use for this ‘How To Lose a Guy in 10 Days’. 

You put on your best dress and put the plan in action, heading to Yu Bar, Karina’s parents restaurant. 

“I don’t think this will work, Y/N” Karina said with a frown walking down the street.

“Of course it will work, Rina. Just watch me hook a guy with my charms, like woo him a little that will make him want to see me again and then tomorrow I’ll pull the switch and make him nuts” you explained with ease. 

“Please tell me you’re not gonna burn down his apartment or bite him, are you?” Ryujin asked. 

You laughed at her comment. “No, I’m gonna limit myself to doing everything girls do that make men run off” you shrugged. “That means being clingy, needy--”

“Touchy-feely” Ryujin added and you nodded. “Oh, call him in the middle of the night just to tell him everything you had to eat that day” she smirked devilishly. 

“What’s wrong with that?” Karina asked, making you and Ryujin stop dead in your tracks. “I’m kidding”

You got inside Yu Bar and Karina gave a wink to the man guarding the door, letting him know they had free access to eat. 

“Well, Ryujin and I will grab a couple of drinks, in the meantime, you go search for a man that could easily fall for your trap” Karina said and grabbed Ryujin’s hand, guiding her to the bar. 

You nodded and looked around. Let’s get the plan started, you smirked to yourself. 

---------------

Mr. Park arrived at Yu Bar with the Chaeyoung’s behind him. 

“Hello Felix. What a surprise seeing you here” he said, surprised to see the freckled blonde sitting on the table he exclusively reserved for him and the Chaeyoung’s. 

The girls behind him scowled at the intrusive blonde, and he winked at them.

“Hello, Mr. Park. How’s it going?” he smirked, standing to shake the man’s hand. “Son, Park” he nodded to them. 

“I’m great, but what are you doing here?” he asked with a shake of his head, confused at the situation.

He sat down. “Well, I’m here for the meeting. I know I wasn’t invited but I should’ve. It was my tip De Lauer was shopping for a new firm” he smirked at the girls. 

“Yes, it was. But I was thinking about who suits best within the company” Mr. Park said.

“And that’s me” Felix said confidently. 

“Felix, I know you sell blow pretty well. But these ladies sell luxury faster than anyone” He said.

The blonde sighed, irritated to hear how his boss was complimenting his worst enemies. 

“We’re here to sell diamonds, mostly women. Because let’s face it. Women love diamonds and if we can make them seem appealing to them then boom” the freckled man said. “Selling a diamond to a woman is like making her fall in love. Like talking about head-over-heels in love, his-and-her towels, let’s grow old together, L-O-V-E, love” he explained. The Chaeyoung’s were giving him a strange look. “Look, I love women. I do. I respect them, and listen to them. And that’s why I can sell myself to any woman, anytime, any day, anywhere” he said.

“Make a woman fall in love with diamonds or with you, Felix?” Son Chaeyoung asked. 

Felix was taken aback with the question. “Either way… I’m pretty confident” he said. 

“I’d like to see you prove that” Park Chaeyoung challenged.

“Oh, you would?” 

She laughed. “The agency is co-hosting a party for the De Lauers at the museum. The party is in a week from sunday. Think you can make a woman fall in love with you by then?” Park Chaeyoung asked. 

Felix’s eyes narrowed and smiled a little. “Ten days?”

“Any woman, anytime, anywhere?” Son Chaeyoung chimed in.

“Yeah well, any woman, who’s single, straight and available, yeah” he said. 

Park Chaeyoung smirked. “Then it’s settled. I’ll choose a woman from this bar. Anyone. And then you decide”

Felix turned around with a smirk. “So, who’s the lucky girl?” 

Son Chaeyoung recognized you from the Composure offices as she was friends with both Mr. Park and Kang Seulgi. “Her” she pointed at you with an evil smirk.

Felix turned around and saw you. His heart fluttered a little bit when he saw you throwing your head back in a laugh with a drink in your hands, facing your friend Karina. He smiled and nodded. “Done”

“What?”

“Done. You’re on” he nodded at Son Chaeyoung. “You both are. But here are the stakes” he specified, making Mr. Park’s eyebrows arch. “After I win this bet, the pitch is mine”

“Agreed” Son Chaeyoung said.

“Mr. Park?”

“Agreed” he said. “You come to that party with a girl that’s really in love with you, Felix, and you can make the pitch to the De Lauers.”

The Chaeyoung’s looked at each other and sighed. 

“To the De Lauers” Mr. Park said, raising a toast to the four of them. 

-----------------

“Okay guys, this is not going as I thought it would. I charmed my way with two guys in ten minutes. The first one was gay, and the second one was married.” you sighed, dropping your ass on the stool. “Saw the fucking ring on his finger and the wallpaper on his phone”

Ryujin rubbed your arm. “You’ll find him. Don’t worry. Here’s your Manhattan” she said, handing you the drink. 

You noticed that your purse was not with you and you slapped yourself on the forehead. “Shit, I forgot my purse on the other side of the bar. I’ll be right back” you said, hopping off the stool. 

You made your way to where the purse was, and grabbed it. You were about to walk to where your friends were until a blonde, handsome, freckled, and sexy guy was standing right in front of you. Your eyes widened. 

“Hi” he said.

“Hi” you said, looking him up and down, while he did the same. “Y/N Y/L/N” you said and stretched your hand out. 

He smiled and took it. “Felix Lee” 

“Cute”

“Thank you” he said smugly.

You scoffed. “I meant your name” 

“Thank you two times”

“Unattached?” you asked. 

“Currently” he nodded, sipping his drink. 

“Likewise”

“Surprising” he said. 

“Psycho?”

“Rarely” he said and you hummed. “Interested?”

“Perhaps” you played hard to get.

“Hungry?”

“Starved actually” you said, twirling your hair with a finger.

“Leaving” he said confidently.

“Now?”

“Yep”

“Okay” you nodded. “Let me get my stuff then, Felix Lee” 

“I’ll meet you at the door” he said, and walked up to the entrance with a smile on his lips. 

You walked up to Karina and Ryujin and squealed. “Guys, I think I got one” you said.

“But he was married” Karina protested.

You laughed. “No, not him. The cute blonde who’s waiting at the door with the leather jacket” 

Ryujin peeped from just above your head and gasped. “Holy cow. He’s really cute”

“I’m gonna check if he’s a keeper. He promised he wasn’t psycho, though” you said, grabbing your purse. “I’m doing this for you. Bye guys”

You walked through the crowd until you reached Felix, who put a hand on your back and led you outside. You walked up to a car that was right by the entrance, thinking it was his until he grabbed your hand and led you to a motorcycle parked right next to it. 

You scoffed. “I… a bike?” you stammered.

“Yep. Here, I use the black one, and you the goofy-looking white helmet” he said, handing you the helmet with a smile. 

Your eyebrows furrowed. “You always pick up girls like this? Cause I’m telling you it is not charming at all” you said, laughing.

“Come on Y/N Y/L/N” he said, and you grabbed the helmet putting it on your head. He then let out a cute giggle and knocked on the helmet with his knuckles softly.  “Beautiful”

---------------

After you grabbed food, you headed to his apartment. He dropped his stuff on the kitchen table and offered to take off his jacket that was clinging to your shoulders. 

“So, I never got to ask you this but uh… what do you exactly do for a living? Cause let me tell you, this is a great apartment” you said, looking around.

“I’m in advertising” he said, putting the coat on the hanger beside the door. “I work mostly with alcoholic beverages and athletic companies, and now our big break is with jewelry companies” he said, turning around to face you.

“Huh. That’s pretty good. I love it”

“You?” he asked, grabbing two beers from the fridge. 

“I work at Composure” you said, grabbing the bottle he offered to you. 

His eyebrows raised at that. “Wow, fastest selling women's magazine in the US, that’s amazing” he smiled at you. “What do you write about? How to save a shopaholic’s life?”

You gasped. “Oh, wow. Calm down, sparky. I got a journalism degree from Columbia, thank you very much. My boss loves me and if I kiss her ass a little more, I will write about whatever the hell I want” you said proudly, sipping on your newly opened beer. 

“Like shoes- Ow” he said, his comment earning a punch. He laughed and rubbed his shoulder.

“No, smarty pants. I want to write about politics. Or… alcoholic beverages and athletic gear” you teased and he laughed. 

Felix smiled. “You’re mean. Do you bite?”

“Sometimes. I can if you want me to, freckles” you said with a glint in your eyes, that made his darken. 

He licked his lips. “Do you want to go to my room?” he asked. “You know, it’s pretty much… comfy there”

You smirked. “Yeah, let me go to the bathroom, real quick”

You walked to the bathroom and locked yourself in there, stifling your laugh. You caught this playboy-like guy who was too cocky for his own good. You dialed Ryujin’s number and looked at yourself in the mirror. 

“Are you at his apartment? I can’t believe you, Y/N!” Ryujin squealed.

“Yes, yes. I got him”

“You’re not gonna sleep with him are you?” Karina asked. 

You rolled your eyes. “No, Rina. I have self-control. Unlike other people”

Karina gasped. “That was mean. That hurt”

Meanwhile, Felix lit some candles and put them in his room, smirking at himself. 

“You have to take down notes. Remember the article” Ryujin said.

“Yeah, I know, Ryu. I gotta go. I’ll text you guys the details then. Bye” you said and pressed the red button, finishing the call and straightening up your dress. This was going to be fun. 

You got out of the bathroom and took in his room, all lit by candles while a slow R&B song was playing in the background. 

“Wow, this is impressive” you said, grabbing the beer you had left on the stand. 

He sat on the chest of drawers he had and patted the empty space. You smiled and sat down next to him, dropping your purse next to you and sipping on your beer. You two stayed in silence, just enjoying each other’s company, until you got bored of it, and grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

He let you for a couple of seconds until he pulled his head back a little with a groan. “Wait, let’s not go too fast” he whispered. 

Your heart sank. He’s not as easy as I thought. Blinking several times, you nodded, fake blushing, trying to guilt-trip him into kissing you. 

You tried to take a sip from your beer but he pushed it away and kissed the breath out of you. He made you stand up, your kiss never breaking. Wrapping your arms around him, you opened your mouth and welcomed his tongue. You felt the control slipping from your fingers and pulled away.

“We’re moving too fast” you panted against his lips. 

He nodded but you kissed him again, and he followed your lead. The kiss was hungry and he grabbed your ass, making you moan a little loud against his lips. His hands dropped to your thighs, lifting you up a little and you both dropped on the bed. Felix grabbed your leg, caressing the skin there, gripping your flesh and it made you both pull away at the same time.

“Too fast” you said in unison. 

You both sat up and looked at each other. 

“We respect each other right?“ You asked.

“If you respect me, I respect you”

“Good” you said, and dropped a kiss on his lips. 

A few minutes later, your cab arrived and you walked down the street opening the door of the taxi. You heard someone whistling and you looked up, seeing Felix in his balcony, smirking at you. 

He waved at you and you waved back.

“Ah, you are already falling in love with me” he said, pushing his tongue against the inner side of his cheek.

You smiled from down the street and blew him a kiss. “I’m gonna make you wish you were dead. Poor guy”

And then you were gone, and he was back in his apartment. He turned around and bit his lip, noticing that you (purposely) forgot your purse on his chest of drawers.

“Smart girl” he said, with a nudge of his head.

--------------

Day 2

Felix dropped the purse on his office desk. Hyunjin and Jisung sat studying the bag, their eyes running all over the leather object.

“Have you looked inside of it?” Hyunjin asked.

He shook his head. “No, I waited to be with you so you could give me advice on how to play my next move” Felix said, sitting down on his chair.

Jisung rolled his eyes. “Dude you’re the expert with chicks here”

“I know. But you think she’ll bother if I put my hands inside her purse?” he asked, sipping on his coffee.

Hyunjin tried to grab it but ended up throwing it to the floor and all the things inside spilled on the floor. Jisung smacked the back of his head, making the elder grumble and rub the sore spot. 

“Great job, knobhead” Felix said and the three guys kneeled down to check the things inside your purse. “Wait guys” he said as he looked at a white envelope. “What’s this?” he asked, opening it and he took out two Knicks game tickets. 

His eyes widened and so did his friends’. 

“She’s so hot. I don’t even have to see her face to know she is” Hyunjin said, clenching his eyes.

“That she is. But she’s also a smart little shit. She wanted me to find them” Felix said smugly, getting up and dropping them on his desk.

Jisung’s eyebrows arched. “Felix, you guys met when she had already her purse with her”

Felix didn’t pay him attention and smirked.

---------------

Meanwhile, your office was full of white roses, and you gasped looking at the scene. Ryujin next to you laughed. “Okay, what did you give him? A love spell?”

“What the hell is this?” you asked. 

Karina searched the flowers for a card and found one, and read it out loud. “One hundred times more beautiful than a hundred roses. Where the fuck do you find these guys?”

You laughed and felt your heart flutter. No, wait. This was all planned. You rolled your eyes at yourself. “He works in advertising, of course he had to give me flowers with a catchy pick up line” 

Ryujin laughed. “You think?”

You gasped. “This means he found the Knicks tickets” you said. Karina gasped. “I’m mean, I know. I’ll call him”

Just before you could dial his number, your phone rang. 

“Y/N Y/L/N, Composure offices” you said, knowing it was him.

Felix put the phone on speaker and gave his friends a smug smile. “Hey, hey pretty girl. Received my flowers?”

You sighed. “I did. I got now a really embarrassing display of roses in my office” you said, rolling your eyes with a smirk on your face. 

Felix laughed. “You are welcome, I had a really good time last night” he said charmingly. “I have your bag”

“Oh, I know. I forgot it. Such a klutz” you said, your friends stifling their laughs with their hands. 

Felix sighed. “Well, you must need it back. You know, all the cash, credit cards… Knicks game tickets for tonight” he taunted. His friends gave him a thumbs up.

You fake gasped. “You are a very bad boy, Mr. Lee. You’ve been peeking through my bag! Haven’t they taught you manners?”

He scoffed. “No, absolutely not. My art director and pal Hyunjin, who’s such a dumbass, knocked it over by accident” he said and kicked Hyunjin’s leg without even looking at him.

“Ow! Yeah, I’m a dumbass, sorry” he said, wincing.

“Alright. I’m sorry, though. I’m going with someone else to the game. 

Felix smirked. “Well, not anymore. You forgot your bag by ‘accident’? You obviously wanted me to go to the game. You just didn’t know how to ask. But save the begging, pretty girl, I’ll go with you”

You gasped internally. Cocky, you mouthed to your friends. “You are so full of yourself, tell me. Does that psychobabble work with everybody?” you asked, leaning forward on your desk. 

“You tell me”

“You are so mean” Karina whispered.

You pressed your lips together, pretending to think about it. “Alright, you win, handsome. Meet me at the seventh avenue entrance. Don’t be late”

“You got it. Bye bye”

“Bye” you said and hung up the phone. 

Ryujin and Karina let their laugh out. “He’s dead” Ryujin said.

-------------------------

It was Knicks night and you and Felix were sitting very close to the court. He was in awe. 

You and Felix booed, cheered, yelled and clapped, you were both ecstatic. 

An hour later, the game was about to end, the team calling for a 20-second-time and break began. That meant that the fan cams were on. It was time for the kissing cam and you both laughed at the couples kissing. You gasped when the camera pointed at both you and Felix and laughed, looking at each other. 

You patted your cheek but he quickly grabbed your neck and planted a heavy kiss on your mouth. The crowd erupted in cheers as the kiss grew hotter and you pulled away, with a red face. He sat there licking his lips, proud of your reaction. 

The break time was finished and the game began once again. An idea popped in your head.

“Lixie, babe?” you asked with a pouty face.

He didn’t even look at you. “What-what?” he asked.

“I’m kind of thirsty, Lix” you whined. 

“Yeah okay” he said and continued cheering on the team.

You frowned and sighed. “Felix, can you get me a soda? I’m parched” you whined. 

Felix couldn’t believe what he was hearing. She wants a soda right now? Just when the game’s ending? “I’ll get it right after the game, baby” he said, glancing at you.

“I’m really thirsty” you smiled at him with a little pout and he looked at you. “I’ll get it” with a sigh, you mumbled. 

He made you stop. “No, hang on. I’ll get it” he sighed and ran quickly to the shop, up the stairs. 

Felix ran to the shop and asked for a coke. When he finally got it, he went back to the bleachers. 

“Here” he said, handing it to you and quickly stretching up his neck to see what he missed. 

You took a sip and pretended to gag. “Ugh, Felix. I forgot. I wanted a diet coke. Not regular” you whined. 

Felix looked at you and you noticed he was very irritated. He pursed his lips furiously. “I’ll- Wait a second” he said and got back to the shop, right after, the crowd started counting from 5 to 0.

When the player scored, Felix missed by a few seconds on the shop TV. Everyone cheered and he stood there, watching the TV furiously. Felix kicked an empty soda cup on the floor angrily. He had missed the most important part of the game.

Once they were out of Madison Square Garden, you grabbed onto Felix’s arm and sighed. “What an exciting game, dude” you said with a smile. “I’ve never had so much adrenaline in my body, let me tell you”

Felix sighed. “Yep, pretty good game” he said. 

“Oh, too bad you missed it” you said with a cheeky smile and stopped a cab. He bit his lips and let out a little smile. She’s lucky she’s cute, he thought.

The cab stopped and he opened the door for you. You stood watching him. “So… I’ll see you later, huh?” you asked. 

He nodded. “I hope so” 

You smiled and handed him the soda cup. He kissed you holding your waist and then when he pulled away, he winked at you. You got inside the car and closed the door. 

Felix stood there watching the cab speed off. “Nice” he said, drinking the rest of the soda.

-------------------

Day 3

Felix was in a business meeting when his assistant peeked in and knocked. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Park. But Mr. Lee has an important call” she said with a wince.

He nodded. “Leave them a message, Yunjin please” Felix told her.

“It’s Y/N, Mr. Lee” she smiled.

He looked at Mr. Park for permission, and he sighed, nodding. “Make it quick”

Felix grabbed the phone and hit the accept call button. 

“Hello?”

“It’s me! Baby!” You squealed.

“Uh, I’m in a business meeting right now, babe. I can’t call you now. Can I call you later, though?” he offered. 

“It’s just that I miss you so much, baby-boo-boo-boo” you said with a baby voice. Ryujin and Karina were next to you and were holding onto each other, trying not to cackle.

“Well I miss you too” he said, with a smile, trying to ignore the baby voice.

“You busy tonight?” 

“Uh, I’m not. Can we catch a movie or something? You can pick if you want” he said. “The cinema on the fourth is making a retro movie night” he said.

“A movie? My choice?” you squealed.

“Yeah”

“I’m so excited! I’ll call you later then, Lixie-Boo” you said.

“Bye, hon” he said, and hung up. A little smile was playing on his lips. “I think this is working, ladies and gentlemen” he yelled and clapped his hands, making Mr. Park shake his head with a little chuckle. 

------------------

Movie night was on and the one you had picked was the most cringey you could find in retro-movie night: You’ve Got Mail.

You were eating popcorn and while you were enjoying the movie, you needed him to get irritated by your comments. “I always wanted a man like Tom Hanks” you said. “This is like my favorite movie of all time” you lied.

“Yeah me too” he said. You stopped eating. Shit, you thought, bad movie choice. 

Someone shushed you from behind your seats and you kept quiet. 

You bit your lip. “What are you thinking about?” you digged.

Felix forced a smile. “Movie. I’m thinking about the movie” he said, not bothering to look at you. 

You smiled and played with his hair. “Yeah but what are you thinking about?” 

He sighed, slightly enjoying the feeling of your fingers on his hair but hating the way you were trying to make conversation in the middle of You’ve Got Mail. “The movie” 

You nodded and tried to think about your next move. “Okay, but what? Your mind’s completely blank?” you asked, and he closed his eyes, letting out a ragged breath. “Who is she?” you asked, putting your popcorn down, feeling your forehead purse into a frown.

Felix looked at you. “Who’s who?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

“The girl you’re thinking about” You exclaimed.

“I can’t hear” the guy who shushed you before says.

“I’m not thinking about any girl, Y/N” he said.

You clicked your tongue. “I’ve dealt with enough liars! You can’t watch Meg Ryan and not think about another girl” you said. 

People behind you were trying to shut you up but it didn’t work.

“You wanna know what I’m thinking?” he asked in a whisper. You nodded and he sighed. “I’m thinking about… how damn beautiful you are. And how that beautiful face like yours can believe I’m thinking about another girl, while I’m here with you” he said. “And also, how damn good this movie is. So we’re going to continue watching it” 

You squealed a little bit and hugged him. “Oh, Lix, my baby” you said and kissed his face a couple of times, leaning almost on top of him. “I love sharing this with you”

“Hey! I can’t see and I can't hear” the guy behind you said.

You whirled around in your seat furiously. “If you don’t shut up, my boyfriend here will kick your ass back to where you belong” you said smugly.

“Wait, Y/N” he tried, his eyebrows furrowing in desperation.

“Oh really? Let’s see what you got, pretty boy. Outside. Now” the man said.

Felix wanted the earth to swallow him up.

------------

“Oh, Felix. Poor baby” you said, grabbing his face, sitting on the floor of the cinema entrance. His face was nestled between your breasts and he sighed contently, even if he was in pain.

“Wait. Lix let’s go to a hospital” you said. The bruise on his face was getting pretty bad and purple.

He grabbed your waist. “No, no. Stay. Stay right here”

“Okay” you said.

His face was rubbing your breasts and he let out a content moan. “Yes. Just stay still” he said with a smirk.

You laughed. “You perv” 

He laughed and you grabbed his hair, lifting him from your chest. 

“You’re fine. Come on” you said, getting up, offering your hands. He took them and stood up. 

Felix smiled at you and dropped a long kiss to your lips. 

“Let’s go Rocky” you whispered. 

---------------

Day 4

Felix was planning a tranquil evening, to sit on his couch, watch the Knicks game and relax in his apartment with you. He decided that he was going to cook real nice for the both of you. 

A knock startled his cooking and went to open the door. 

“Come in, it’s open!” he yelled. 

You got inside and smiled at him. “Hello, Lixie-Boo” you said.

He looked at you and his eyes widened. You were wearing a pretty baby blue dress. “Wow, you look gorgeous” he said.

“Thank you, sweet pea” you squealed and dropped a kiss to his cheek. 

You looked at the table and saw the candles, the music in the background making it more nice than it already was.

You gasped. “Oh, honey. This is… too much, I love it” you said.

“Great! Dinner will be ready in five minutes. Go ahead and pour the wine” he said.

“I got you a couple of gifts” you said evilly. You opened the box you brought with you and inside laid a couple of teddy bears and a picture of you with the caption: you’re my, my, my, my lover.

His eyes widened. “Oh… yay” he said. What the hell is all this stuff? Is she quoting Taylor Swift to me?

“Here are two teddy bears. One of them says #1 lover because you are” you said pinching his cheek. “They’re called Lixie and Y/N. Oh! Like us” you said in a baby voice. “And then this picture of me, with Lover from T-Swift lyrics. Do you like it?” you asked.

Felix coughed. “Y-yeah, baby. Love’em” he lied. You kissed him and smiled. 

“You’re so sweet. I’m gonna drop these in your room, wait up” you said.

Felix sighed once you were gone, wiping his face with his hands. 

In his room, you barely contained your laughter but you tried to keep it down. Poor guy. 

The Knicks game was on the TV and was about to start. Felix put the big tray of food and opened the lid. Inside was meat with veggies on it, a very nice decoration, and you hated to say, but you were impressed. Until an idea popped in the back of your head.

You pressed your lips together and let out a fake sob. “Oh, oh this is all my fault, Lix” you whispered, putting a hand over your chest.

He sat down next to you and his eyebrows furrowed. “What happened?” he asked, grabbing your hand.

“I’m– I’m a vegetarian” you sobbed. “It’s just that animal meat makes me sad” you said, fake tears escaping your eyes. The blonde sat frozen in his seat. “It’s-- it’s dead” you said.

He let out an irritated sigh. “I’m sorry, darling, I didn’t know” he muttered, shaking his head.

“It’s okay… this was beautiful. You’re beautiful” you said, wiping your fake tears and rubbing his cheek affectionately. 

Later, you both found yourselves in a deli, eating veggie bowls, which Felix found disgusting, and making him completely miss the Knicks game. 

You finished the food (who he labeled as cow-food), and he quickly ran to the TV to catch the Knicks game, only to find out it had already finished. He let out a grunt and dropped the remote on the couch. “Fuck” he sighed.

He let himself fall on the couch and you climbed over him, kissing the life out of him. Felix let out a surprised groan and grabbed your ass. You unbuttoned his shirt, a few buttons flying away. You couldn’t admit this to anyone, but you found him exciting. 

He smirked against your lips and let his hands wander under your dress, letting his palms rest on your ass. 

You wanted to up the game. “Does little Lix want to come out and play?” you groaned in his ear. 

His eyes widened, while you kissed down his chest. “Uh, what?”

You lifted your head.

“Little Lix?” he asked, utterly confused. 

“Well, we don’t know if he’s big or little, we’re gonna find out” you squealed and resumed kissing your way down to his crotch. 

He lifted you up gently by your arm. “No, no. Baby. You can’t just… name my dick” he said with a frown.

Your eyebrows raised. “You… what are you saying? Do you want me to call it… big Lix? Cocky enough, baby?” you said in a baby voice. You almost laughed out loud at the look on his face. 

“Uh… I’m-- big Lix is not ready to come out and play” he said, cringing at his own words. 

You sighed with a smile. “Well, in that case. I better get going” you said and dropped a kiss to his lips. “Bye honey-bear”

When you were out the door, you snickered. 

“It’s getting easier by the minute” you sing-songed with an evil laugh getting inside the elevator when a hand stopped the door from closing.

Felix smiled and got inside, grabbing your waist and lifting you up against the wall of the elevator, kissing you. His tongue got inside your mouth and tangled with yours. Your legs automatically wrapped around his waist. “Can I see you tomorrow?” he asked against your lips.

You breathed in and licked your lips. “Yep”

“Well, call me” he pecked your lips and then he was out of the elevator.

You grimaced once you made sure he wasn’t looking. “What the hell? This ain’t getting easier”

You needed to up your game, immediately. 

--------------

Day 5

The next day in Felix’s office, Hyunjin and Jisung were discussing how you were getting weirder by the time the relationship went on.

“Okay, I thought you said Y/N was a goddess after the Knicks game, little Lix” Hyunjin teased, earning a punch on the shoulder from the blonde.

He laughed. “Well, that was the good Y/N, the smart, cool and sexy woman I met. Not this crazy, evil side she’s showing” he said.

“Maybe she’s bipolar--” Jisung started.

“Muffin!” 

The three guys turned around to find you with a dog in hand.

“Y/N baby” he smiled at you, standing up and walking towards you. “We were just talking about you. You are looking absolutely gorgeous” he said.

“Oh, good things I hope, right baby boo?” you cooed. 

He pressed his lips together and nodded. 

“These are my friends! Hyunjin and Jisung!” he said, pointing behind him and they waved at you.

You gasped. “Oh Lixie told me all about you guys”

“Lixie-Boo told all about you too” Hyunjin teased the blonde, who glared at him.

“Great, well look what I just got you” you sing-songed. “I got you a puppy! His name is… guess what?” you said, clapping your hands together.

He shrugged.

“Little Lix!” you squealed.

Jisung and Hyunjin snickered behind him. 

He smiled and tried to think how the fuck he was going to survive six days more if this was going to keep up like this.

When he got home, he put Little Lix in the kitchen and put water and food ready for him. He grabbed his phone and saw his voicemail was full.

You got 17 new messages from Y/N Y/L/N.

“Oh shit” he said. 

He listened to every single one of them and he face-palmed himself. This is getting even harder than I thought , he thought.

He got inside the bathroom to wash his face and opened the cabinet. He froze when he found a lot of feminine products and he closed it, turning around to find two toothbrushes and a lot of girly stuff scattered in the bathroom. Felix grabbed his hair and almost yelled out. 

“Fucking shit”

-----------------

Day 6

“Girls, I’m telling you. He’s not leaving me“ you said, eating from your ice cream pint. 

“Are you being clingy?” Karina asked.

You nodded. “Like a bitch, yeah. I even supplied his bathroom with girly stuff, some of them I don’t even use. Then I gifted him teddy bears and I baby talk to him. I’m whiny and needy? How is he not leaving me?” you asked.

The girls laughed and continued eating ice cream.

“Either way, I gotta think about something before tomorrow” you said.

Ryujin sat up. “Wait, why not tonight?”

“It’s Poker night with his friends” you said. “Boys night”

“You’re giving him boys night?” she asked.

“They do it every week” you shrugged.

“Before… he met… you” she said.

“Ryujin, I love you”

----------------

“Bunny! I’m home!” you said, startling his friends and him.

Felix turned around and his eyebrows furrowed. “Baby, what are you doing here?” he asked, sitting up and putting the blunt he was smoking, in a plate.

“I just… I figured I could stop by and kiss you a little bit, huh? Your friends don’t mind if I steal you for about… an hour or so?” you asked.

He laughed nervously. “Honey, I told you… boys night” he said.

You pretended to be offended. “You… don’t want to see me? Do you- Oh! You think I’m crazy!” you said.

Felix’s eyes widened. “I- No! I don’t think you’re crazy, baby. I just want a boys night with--” 

“Oh, I’m sure it was an excuse to hook up with other girls, and oh! I’m sure there’s one hidden here, probably in your bathroom” you fake cried. “I’m out of here, Felix” you said and walked out the door.

He followed you with Little Lix barking behind him. 

“Hey, hey, hey. What was all that?” he asked, making you turn around.

You pressed the elevator button and sighed. “What?”

“You acting like a freaking maniac” he said. 

You gasped and the elevator dinged. “Oh, I’m sorry. I can’t be with someone who thinks I’m mental. Bye, Felix” you said and the elevator doors closed but he pressed the button so they opened them again.

”No wait. Where’s the fun, cool, beautiful and sexy Y/N I knew? Huh?” Felix asked. “The one who wanted to be a serious journalist? You’re acting insane, like one second you’re up then you’re down!” he said.

You pursed your lips. “So I guess we’re over” you shrugged your shoulders with a glare.

“Fine!”

“Fine” you said and the elevator door closed. You smiled in victory and then it quickly fell. What the hell is happening? 

Back in Felix’s apartment, Jisung and Hyunjin almost tackled him. “You’re going back, apologize and get back together with her” Jisung said. “Five more days, man. And that’s it” he said.

“No, wait. Hey. You saw how she acted back there” he said.

“Yes, but if you really want the pitch, then you’re going back to her, apologize and be her little bitch for five. More. days” Hyunjin stated.

“Do you want Son and Park Chaeyoung to be comfortable in their new office? The one that should be ours?” Hyunjin digged.

“No, of course not!” Felix said. “But what do I do? What do I tell her!?”

“Couples therapy! Literally anything” Jisung said.

“Couples therapy?” Felix asked.

This was getting way out of hand. 

“Yes, now go!” Hyunjin patted his back and pushed him. 

He sprinted off running to the stairs, jumping from three to three. He got to the door just in time when you got out of the building. 

“Y/N! Y/N! Wait, baby boo” he said, cringing at his choice of words. “Forgive me, please. I don’t- I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m sorry” he said, kneeling on the ground.

You couldn’t believe your eyes. What the hell was this guy’s problem and why the hell why was he not running away from her?

“Can you give me another chance?” he asked, puppy eyes on. 

“Haven’t you had enough?” you asked ironically, but you really meant it this time. 

“I’m willing to do anything, Y/N. Please” he said, opening his arms.

You grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, making him stand up, kind of embarrassed that anyone walking down the street could see him like that. 

“Like, what do you think about… couples therapy?” he asked. 

A light bulb turned on in your brain. Couples therapy, huh?

“Oh, Felix. I know a therapist who’ll do wonders with you. When shall we start?” you said, intrigued about his request. 

He nodded. “Tomorrow. Whenever you want” he said, desperately. “Whatever it takes”

“A kiss?” you pouted. 

“Thank you, sweetheart” he said and kissed you almost making you tumble at how hard he kissed you. You had to admit, he was one hell of a kisser. “Thank you for understanding”

“Yeah, no problem, baby boo. But you’re still on probation” you said and walked away. “What the fuck did I get myself into?” you whispered to yourself.

---------------

Day 7

“If we’re really doing this, you’ll have to open up, Felix. You hear me?” you whined when you reached the ‘therapist’ apartment. 

“Yeah, of course” 

You knocked on the door and Karina appeared, wearing a white pajama pants and a shirt, with big ass glasses and a bun. “Y/N Y/L/N, and Felix Lee. Come in” she said with a formal voice.

Your eyebrows wiggled and tried not to laugh. You grabbed Felix’s hand and sat him down on the couch. 

“So, before we start. I wanted to ask you how you were gonna pay for this session?” she asked.

You patted Felix’s back. “Sweetie?”

“Uh, yeah. How much is it?” he asked, grabbing his wallet from his jean pocket.

“Three hundred dollars the hour” she said calmly. 

His eyes almost bulged out of his school when he heard the price that fell from Karina’s lips. Felix cleared his throat and reached for his wallet. Whatever it takes, then the pitch is yours. He handed Karina the bills and she cleared her throat.

“So, tell me, you guys. How long have you been seeing each other?” she asked.

“Seven days” you replied with a smile.

“Isn’t it too soon to be seeing a therapist?” Felix asked calmly.

You smiled at him. “Well, it isn’t a lifetime but it is--”

“It’s like a week” he said.

You fake gasped and looked at Karina. “Do you hear that tone? How can we not need a therapist when you’re snapping at me like that every goddamn second!” you said rather loudly.

Karina nodded. “How are things between you… I mean… sexually” she digged.

You laughed a little. “Oh, about that… he has a little problem” you said, winking at Karina. “If you know what I mean”

He shook his head. “No, Y/N. Wait. We haven’t had sex yet” he said. “And I don’t have a problem”

“Yes you do”

“No, no I don’t” 

“Okay, okay. Look, the one night that we even thought about having sex you called my dick little Lix, or- or big Lix” he said, turning completely to face you. “Without even seeing it!”

“I thought it was beautiful” you said, close to fake crying.

“I see, Felix” Karina said, pushing her glasses up her nose. “When was it that you first realized you were attracted to other men?”

You had to contain your laugh at this. “Oh, it… that’s serious” you agreed.

“What? No! I love women, why-- okay. No, that it’s clearly not what happened” Felix stammered irritatedly. 

“I’m hearing a lot of anger that’s been swirling inside of you for a long time, Felix” Karina said, folding her hands together. 

You gasped. “Like a rage-aholic”

“No, I’m not a rage-aholic” he shouted.

“Take a deep breath, sweetie” you said, putting your hand on his arm.

“I gotta ask you this one question” Karina said. “Are you ashamed of Y/N?”

He was taken aback by the sudden question. 

“Of course he is” you said.

“No, I’m not ashamed of you, Y/N” he said, putting a hand on your back. 

Karina cleared her throat. “Then why don’t you… take her to meet your family, for example?” she suggested. You wanted to kill her.

Felix nodded. “Yeah, let’s go do that. You can meet my whole family, let’s go to Staten Island, you can meet them” he smiled. 

“Would you like to go to Staten Island?” Karina asked you.

No! Of course not!  

“Yes” 

-----------------

Day 8

He parked his bike in the driveway of his family house and you were greeted by his mother once you got inside of the house. 

“Oh hello, Y/N. I’ve heard so much about you!” her mother appeared with a baby in her arms. 

“ Bullshit! ” you heard from the patio.

“My dad and uncles play cards every hour of the day” Felix laughed.

“ Bullshit! ” you heard again.

“You are as pretty as Felix described you on the phone the other--”

“Mom!” Felix whined.

You laughed and shook her hand. “Well, the pleasure is mine, Ms. Lee” you said.

“ Bullshit! ”

“Sweetie!” she scolded over her shoulder. “Excuse me honey, I gotta make my husband shut up for a little bit, here” she said and handed Felix the baby he was holding, who you assumed was his cousin. 

Felix grabbed him happily and you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell at the sight of him holding a baby. 

“I’m gonna get him cleaned up, you go out back” he said and dropped a kiss to your lips and then he was gone. 

You took a deep breath and went out to the patio, finding who you assumed was his dad and his uncles. His mother saw you and dropped the cards on the table. “Everyone! Guys, everybody meet Y/N, our Felix’s girl!” she squealed.

His dad smiled and shook your hand. “Well, Felix described you as ‘beautiful’ but his words weren’t enough” he complimented you. 

You blushed a little and giggled. “Well thank you, Mr. Lee”

“No worries, honey” Mr. Lee winked. 

After they introduced you to the whole family, they gave you a couple of cards to play with them. 

“The game is called ‘Bullshit’ as you may have heard. And we’re just in the lightning round, sweetie, you came just in time” Mr. Lee said.

Felix suddenly came in and smiled. “Well look at this. I’m gonna beat everyone’s asses, including yours baby” he winked at you, sitting down and grabbing himself some cards. 

“I don’t really know how to play”

“Well, here’s the trick. You have to get rid of all the cards in your hand” His dad said.

You nodded and looked at your cards.

“Alright I’m gonna throw and say I have two aces. What do you say?” his dad asked.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at your cards in hand, noticing you had three aces, which meant he could only have one. “I say bullshit”

“What did you say?” he smiled.

“I say… bullshit!” you said and everyone around you cheered. 

After a couple of rounds where everyone except Felix was helping you out to win just to make him lose, you found yourself having fun, more than you had expected and more than the fun you’ve got this couple of months. The feeling was strange.

“Okay, I’ve got two kings”

You looked around and his family shook their heads. Felix caught them cheating and gasped.

“You all are cheating!” he said, making all of you laugh. “Baby! That’s treason!” he laughed.

You just laughed at him and showed him your cards. “Yep. But I won!”

“And that makes him have the lowest score out of all of us in Bullshit thanks to you, for the first time ever! I say we expect you to come here sooner” his mom said, standing up and drawing his score on a chalkboard. 

You laughed. “Why? Were all his other girlfriends Bullshit losers?” you asked, sipping on your drink.

“What other girlfriends? He’s the first girl he’s ever brought home” her mom said and hugged you. 

First girl he’s ever brought home? You felt special. You hated to admit it, but it was true. 

“Don’t you break his heart” she whispered with a little smile and walked away.

It’s a little too late for that now.

-----------------

After the game, Felix offered to take you for a ride to meet the island on his bike. You accepted, and the blonde took you everywhere. For ice cream, for lunch, to walk in the park, down the port, everywhere. He even taught you how to ride his bike. You couldn’t help it but you felt the butterflies kicking your stomach everytime he smiled or looked at you. And he felt the same. He felt at peace that the fighting and craziness was over for good.

At a certain hour, it started to rain, soaking you from head to toe. You arrived at his home, you rode the bike while he was behind you.

He got you inside of the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

“Alright madam, let’s have a shower, what do you say?“ he asked and turned on the hot water.

You nodded and sat on the sink, thinking about why the hell did you accept to do this to this guy. He was perfect and so good with you. If you ever told him the truth, he’d hate you, and you’d lose him. 

“You can shower first if you want” he said, drying his hand with a towel.

You bit your lip and sighed. 

“Is everything all right?” he asked, putting his hands on your legs, his eyes finding yours. 

You smiled at him, caressing his cheek. “It’s more than okay” you said in a low voice. 

He kissed your palm and pinched your leg a little. “Then tell me what’s wrong. You don’t seem okay”

You let out a breath. “I think… when your mother hugged me today, like… she really hugged me” you said, your eyes getting teary. “For winning a game at Bullshit. Like I was a part of the family” you said, a tear flowing down your cheek. 

Felix’s eyebrows furrowed and he put a hand on your cheek. “But that’s a good thing, baby. Smile for me” he said with a little grin, poking your cheek with his pointer finger.

You smiled for him and his grew bigger. Your noses were almost touching and it confirmed for the both of you. Both bets were a huge mistake.

He brought your head closer to his and kissed your lips. You pulled away and searched for something in his eyes, something that would give you a red flag. You found just a glint and lust in his eyes. You kissed him again, opening your mouth for his tongue to come inside your mouth and sighed at the feeling. 

Felix pulled away and you lifted your hands up, so that he could take your shirt off. He complied and saw that you weren’t wearing a bra. His eyes darkened and you hopped off the counter to take his shirt too.

You dropped it to the ground and then went to unbuckle his jeans while he did the same to yours. He pushed your panties to the ground and he pushed his underwear, too.

Felix grabbed your thighs, hoisting you up, making your legs wrap around his torso and kissed you again. He got inside the shower and pressed you against the cold tiles. His mouth on yours felt heavenly, and with every brush of his tonguey you got more and more wetter by the second. 

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful” he whispered against your neck. He kissed a couple of hickeys on it and then came back to your mouth.

If anyone walked past the bathroom, they would’ve heard the breathy moans the two of you emitted and the slapping of skin on skin sound. Once you came and he did on your stomach, you stayed staring at each other. Guilt was in his eyes, thinking that you, a beautiful woman he had managed to fall in love with, and probably she did as well, was part of a stupid bet to get a stupid pitch. 

You dropped your forehead on his and sighed with a smile. “That was amazing, Lix. Little Lix down there wasn't so little, huh?” you joked, making him laugh out loud. 

“Well, what can I say? I’m full of surprises”  he said.

You got down and you washed each other. As his arms came around you from behind and you couldn’t help but feel like shit. 

If only he knew. 

In the meantime, Felix rested his chin on your shoulder, leaving a little peck on your skin. He closed his eyes as soon as his lips touched you, feeling the guilt and regret wash over him. 

He didn’t know how he was going to tell you, but there was one thing he knew it was certain: he didn’t deserve you. 

At least, that’s what he thought. 

------------------

Day 9

The ferry arrived at Manhattan and he drove his bike back to your home. He got down from the bike and walked you to the building entrance.  

“Well, this is home” you said, dropping his hand. 

He nodded and smiled at you. “Uh, Y/N? I wanted to ask you back at Staten but uh… my boss is throwing this party for the diamond account I was telling you about and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me? You know… as my date?” Felix asked, clearly nervous. “As my girlfriend” he stated. 

You smiled at him and put your hand on his cheek. “Are you calling me your girlfriend?” 

“Yeah, I am” he said, sure of himself.

You pressed your lips together. “Tomorrow will be the tenth day of seeing each other.”

“I know” he said with a sigh. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow huh?”

“Yeah, absolutely. Should I dress fancy?” you asked.

 “As fancy as you want… but still fancy” he said.

You nodded. “Perfect” you pressed a kiss to his lips and when you pulled away, you hugged him. He felt so good. You didn’t want to let him go just yet, or tell him what you were doing, or him to find out via the magazine. 

As you pulled away, he kissed your head and let you go inside.

“Bye” you blew him a kiss.

“Bye” 

---------------

Day 10 - final day-

You barged inside Seulgi’s office with a very worried face on you. You let out a breath and sat down on the couch.

“Seulgi? I can’t- I can’t write this article” you stated.

Her eyebrows furrowed and sat down on her chair. “What? Why not? Is your computer broken or something? Figure it out”

“No, it’s not that” you said. “I just… I’ve got to know this guy. He’s amazing. He doesn't deserve this, I really like him, Seulgi. Please” you pleaded.

“Okay. Who’s the boss here?”

“You” you sighed. 

“Then you write what I tell you to write. And that means the article” she said strictly, not even bothering to look at you while she was paging down a magazine. “You’ll do the article, because you are a professional. That’s what professionals do”

“Yes I am” you whispered. 

“Great. Now go. I want the article in less than 48 hours”

-----------------

The night fell and Felix arrived at your house. He was wearing a fancy tux, but he managed to keep it a little less formal. He took a deep breath and cracked his neck. Felix grabbed his phone and sent you a text.

Lix: I’m here xx

He blushed at the thought of you on a fancy dress. His thoughts were interrupted by his phone vibrating in his pocket.

You: be right down. Wait up xx

His heart picked up speed when he heard the door of your building opening. You stood there with a yellow fancy dress with an open cut back. You did a little twirled and took a second to admire him. He was so beautiful, it hurt your eyes. 

The chauffeur from his car smiled at the interaction.

“Hey” you said timidly.

He just stared, he couldn’t believe you were his. 

“Wow, you are so beautiful” he said, pressing a kiss to your lips. 

You blushed and ran your fingers through his hair. “You’re looking good too, sparky” you said putting your arm around his and getting inside the car.

Once you reached the museum, you could only gawk at how much diamonds were used for this party. It almost hurt your eyes. 

“Wow, okay. This wasn’t what I expected at all” you said, looking up only to find a very big, sparkly chandelier. 

Felix nodded, chuckling at your face. “You should come more often to these things with me”

You gasped and elbowed him. “What? So you can see me with a fancy dress more often?”

He shrugged. “Maybe” he teased, making you laugh.

Hyunjin and Jisung appeared wearing very formal suits and they waved at you. “Hey guys” you said.

“Oh, great. Stay with them, I’ll go grab us some champagne” he said, kissing your cheek.

You smiled at him and watched him leave while Jisung told an incredibly boring story of how he managed to get a date.

“Uh, guys. I’ll go sit by the table, there are some snacks there. If you’ll excuse me” you said, and excused yourself, really not wanting to deal with those noisy boys. 

Hyunjin and Jisung stood watching you when they felt hands on their shoulders. The Chaeyoung’s were staring at them with an evil grin on them. 

“News for you guys” Son Chaeyoung said.

They looked at each other. “We don’t want to deal with you snakes today” Jisung said. 

Park Chaeyoung scoffed. “I just wanted to let you guys know that we know that Felix cheated” she said.

Hyunjin’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean cheated?” he asked in a monotone voice. 

“We know he told this girl about the bet even before they started dating” Park Chaeyoung said. 

Jisung and Hyunjin looked at each other, wide-eyed. 

“We’ll go tell Mr. Park if you don’t hurry up” Son Chaeyoung said, and then, they were gone.

“Shit, we gotta do something” Jisung said.

They ran to the table you were sitting and sat down next to you, startling you mid-eating a snack. You furrowed your eyebrows at their state.

“Hey, Y/N. We know you know about the bet. Okay? And we need you to play dumb when Mr. Park asks you if you fell in love with Felix” Hyunjin said.

Your stomach dropped. A bet? What bet? You were about to ask until it dawned in you. This was all a bet. Felix made a bet, in which he had to make you fall in love with him (in which he succeeded).

“A bet?” you asked in a small voice.

Jisung nodded. “Yeah, the bet… you know, he’d get the pitch if you fell in love with him” he said.

You played dumb. “Of course” you faked a smile. Internally you were just trying to keep the tears to yourself.

Meanwhile…

Felix was heading to their table when Kang Seulgi intercepted him.

“Hello Felix. What a pleasure it is to see you” she said with a smile.

He nodded and smiled at the elderly woman. “Yeah, nice to see you too. I gotta head back to my table, there’s this beautiful woman waiting for me-- right there” he said with a smug grin and pointed at you.

Seulgi perked up and gasped. “Y/N? Oh she’s my How-To girl in Composure” she said.

“Your How-To girl?” he asked confusedly.

“Yes. Right now she’s working on an article called How To Lose a Guy in 10 Days” she said and his smile visibly dropped. You were just using him for… an article? Her laugh made him come back from his thoughts. “This poor guy she’s been pretending to date-- wait, she’s actually dating this guy trying to scare him off by making mistakes girls do when--” when she saw the face that Felix and she stopped talking, realizing he was the guy you were dating. “Oh… oh, I’m sorry” she whispered and excused herself. 

He pressed his lips together and downed his champagne glass. He saw you getting up from your chair, grabbed your purse and headed for the exit. Felix followed you, steam flying out of his ears.

When you reached the street you heard his shouting. “No, no, no. Y/N Y/L/N get back here” he said. 

You stopped in your tracks and looked at him. 

“You used me! Just to get a stupid fucking pitch! You played with my feelings, you made me believe you actually care about me” you yelled at him. 

Your words would’ve hurt him if he wasn’t angry enough about the article thing. 

“I used you? You drove me insane for that article from your stupid magazine, okay?” he said angrily. 

“You told people you could make me fall in love with you, like I’m just some random girl that needed saving, you backstabbing jerk” you said, hitting him with your purse. 

Felix stood, pressing his lips together, figuring out what to say next. “So that was what I was, huh? A stupid guinea pig you could use for your experiments?” 

“Yeah and I was just some girl you picked up from a bar because you feel bad for her, sitting all alone with a drink in her hands” you said more calmly.

He chuckled ironically. “Well, you did it. Good job. You wanted to see if you could lose a guy in 10 days, congratulations. You just lost him” he said, and turned away from you.

“No, I didn’t, Felix”

He turned back to face you.

“Because you can’t lose what you never had” you cried out. 

He watched as you turned away and called a cab. His heart was hurting so much. Felix took a shaky breath in and headed back to the party. 

---------------

Day 11

“Well, this wasn't what I was expecting” Seulgi said, pushing her glasses up her nose. “But it’s better” she said gladly. 

You chuckled and smiled at her. “I’m glad you like it”

“Now this is my time to free you from my leash. You can write whatever you want now” she said, putting your recently printed article in a folder. 

Your eyebrows perked up at her saying. “That means I can write like… about politics, economics, religion, or--”

“No, Y/N. Whatever you want means what Composure is about, shoes, dramas, what’s new in Oscar de La Renta’s new dresses, you get what I mean” Seulgi said, flicking her wrist at you. 

This wasn’t what you expected. Writing an article about a guy you did end up falling in love with wasn’t even worth it. In the end, Kang Seulgi had tricked you into making you write whatever she wanted. 

You nodded and sighed. “Thank you for the opportunity, Seulgi” you said slowly. She smiled at you. “And thank you for making it easier for me to turn it down” you said, heading for the door. “My resignation letter will be arriving at your mail very soon” you said and then you were out of the door, leaving Seulgi shocked to her very core. 

-------------------

Felix was in his office, Little Lix in his arms and he let out a sigh, looking at the Knicks game he did not attend. The tickets were laying on his desk, he had planned to give them to you after the party but that did not end up well. 

A knock on his door startled him. “Hey, my man. I’ve got something for you” Hyunjin said, sitting down on a chair.

He saw it was a Composure magazine and he let out a sigh.

“I’m not gonna read that”

“No, you should” he said. Felix just shook his head and dropped Little Lix on the floor. “Okay. You win. I’ll read it to you” Hyunjin said and Felix was about to protest but he held his hands up. “ I’ve lost a guy. And I don’t know why. What went wrong? When I started writing this month’s column, I wanted to commit those certain silly dating mistakes we all commit at some time. But what I didn’t realize was that I was making the biggest mistake of my life ” he said, he lifted his eyes to watch the blonde, who was looking at the floor, with glassy eyes. “Here, read it. Trust me” he said, dropping the magazine on his desk and then he was out of his office.

He sighed and grabbed it, turning to the page where your article was. He started reading and he noticed some important lines: “ I lost the only guy I’ve ever fallen for ”; “ Best 10 days of my life ”, and one that he wasn’t expecting at all. “ This is my last article for Composure ”

His eyebrows furrowed and an idea popped in his head.

A few minutes later, he was running down Composure’s office asking everyone where the hell was your office located. He won a few glares from most of the girls but right now, he didn’t give a fuck.

He found it, and noticed it was empty. Fucking shit, Felix internally cursed. He saw a woman standing right next to her office. 

“Excuse me, Ma’m” he said.

Ryujin turned around abruptly. “Holy crap. You’re Felix”

“I know. Tell me where’s Y/N” he said urgently.

“She quit” Karina appeared from behind him. 

He turned around and noticed a familiarity with the girl.

“She’s got an interview right now, in Washington” Ryujin said.

“When?”

“Like, right now. She’s leaving right now” Ryujin said, checking her watch.

He turned to leave but not before he turned to face Karina. “You’re not a therapist aren’t you?”

She looked confused until she burst out laughing. “No, I’m not”

“Good job. You owe me 300 dollars”

----------------

You leaned your head on the taxi window, letting out a sigh, thinking about the events that took place that week. You knew that Composure wasn’t the best option for you since Seulgi had always done the same shit over and over again, making you think you could write about something more interesting than fashion and then taking your emotion with her. You rubbed your forehead and allowed yourself to think about Felix. There wasn’t a time that you didn’t regret what happened, but looking at the other side, he made a bet too. 

Your thoughts were interrupted when you reached the Brooklyn bridge and saw someone riding a very familiar bike, wearing a very familiar helmet. Oh shit, that’s Felix. 

“Sir, please pull over” Felix yelled.

You gasped at the scene. “What-- Felix? What are you doing?” you yelled. “Sir, pull over please?”

“Are you crazy, woman? We’re in the middle of the bridge” the chauffeur said.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not feeling well, I think I’m about to puke”

“Alright, you win” he grumbled.

You got out of the car and saw him pulling the helmet over his head. “What the fuck is this Felix?” you yelled at him.

He sighed and handed you the magazine. 

“Is it true?” he asked.

Your eyebrows furrowed. 

“Dammit, Y/N, what you wrote in the magazine. Or were you just trying to sell a magazine?”

“I meant every word, Felix” you said, your eyes getting teary. “But that doesn’t change anything, does it?”

“It does, and you’re running away” he said.

“I’m not!” You yelled out in a high-pitched voice.

“Yes, you are. To Washington” he said.

You rolled your eyes, pinching your eyebrows. “Yes, but it’s an interview. Besides, what do you care?”

Felix was taken aback by it. “What do I care? I fucking love you Y/N. But I need to be sure it’s true”

“I already told you. It’s true and I… I love you too, Felix. But--” you said-

“But what?” he asked, stepping closer to you.

“I can’t write here. I applied for a job where I know I can write about whatever the fuck I want without a bitch that tells me I need to write what it’s accord to my gender” you said, and turned away to get back to the taxi.

“Bullshit”

You stopped in your tracks. “Excuse me?”

“Bullshit. You heard me” he said, stepping closer to you. 

You couldn’t move. He reached until your noses were practically touching. He handed a couple of bills to the taxi driver and told him to send your bags back to your apartment. 

“You’re having alternate transportation from now on” he said. 

You sighed and looked at him, your eyes watery. 

“Really? Are you serious?” you asked with a broken chuckle.

“You bet I am” he said and put his hands on your face, bringing you to a passionate kiss. You melted on it and put your arms around his neck, sighing into it. You felt complete. Finally.  “I love you, so much” he said against your lips, letting his nose rub against yours.

“I love you, I love you, I love you” you mumbled, each ‘i love you’ with a kiss. 

“Okay, so are you two gonna let me drive back to the ladies apartment or what?” the taxi driver grumbled, making you two laugh.

You couldn't believe how perfect this moment was. How it all started with a bet and an article that was meant for you two to find each other. 

Fin.

-----------------------

i hope you liked it :) there are more Felix's fics coming in, i've been pretty busy

[lovemaybankk]

ultraviolence - part 2: stalker!rafe cameron x pogue!reader (18+)

pairing: stalker!rafe cameron x pogue!reader

this is a two-part series, read part 1 here!

inspired by lana del rey's song, "ultraviolence" ♡

summary: unbeknownst to you, rafe cameron had been quietly watching you for months, his obsession growing darker with each day. one day, rafe's delusions reach a breaking point, and he kidnaps you, keeping you away in a secluded location where he plans to keep you forever.

word count: 4,512 words

author's note: HI GUYS FINALLY WAR IS OVER FOR ME. i can go back to religiously writing!! i hope you all enjoy <3 also happy holidays to you all!! NOT PROOFREAD

warning: DARK!, mdni, dub-con/non-con, cursing, virgin!reader, praise kink, breeding kink, teasing, fingering, knife play, rope play, unprotected p in v, creampie, oral sex (fem and male receiving)

you woke up groggily, head pounding and the first thing you noticed was the silence. your body felt heavy, and as you shifted, you realized you were lying on a soft mattress, far more comfortable than any.

blinking your eyes open, you were momentarily disoriented. the room around was pristine, almost unnervingly so. white walls, a neatly made bed beneath with crisp sheets, and a small nightstand where a tray of food sat neatly arranged—buttered toast, scrambled eggs, and a glass of orange glass that glinted under the sunlight streaming through a half-drawn curtain.

your breathing quickened as you shot up, the blanket falling away, revealing you were still in your own clothes, though the shoes were gone.

"where am i?" you whispered to yourself, voice cracking in the quiet.

there were no locks on the windows, though they were too high to reach, and the door looked like any ordinary bedroom door. but something about this place felt wrong: it was too clean and too staged.

sliding over the edge of the bed, the floor felt like cool, solid wood. quietly, your crept to the door, pressing your ear against it. nothing. no footsteps, no voices. just the unnatural silence.

your hand trembled as you reached for the handle. locked. of course. panic surged as you wanted to scream, to pound on the door.

turning back to the room, you searched—checking under the bed, behind the nightstand, even peeling back the corners of the wallpaper. if there was a clue, a way out, you had to find it.

abruptly, you heard the sound of the door unlocking from the outside and you loudly gasped, heart pounding in your chest as you were worried about what would be behind that door.

"good morning." rafe was standing there nonchalantly, his hands tucked into the pockets of his faded jeans, a faint smirk playing on his lips like he knew something I didn’t. the sunlight streamed through the half-open blinds behind him, casting long shadows that danced across the floor.

"you’re up early," he added, his tone casual but with an edge of curiosity that made your tomach twist. you couldn’t tell if it was genuine or if he was testing you.

"couldn’t sleep," you muttered back, laying back down on the bed and pulling the blanket around you as if it could shield from his piercing gaze.

rafe tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes scanning the room, landing on the untouched tray of food by the bed. "not hungry?"

"not yet," that was a lie. the truth was, you didn’t trust it, or him, for that matter. something about his calm demeanor felt too calculated, like every move he made was part of a carefully constructed plan.

rafe's smirk faded as he caught the edge in your voice. "you're upset," he said, his tone soft but with a thread of something unreadable beneath it.

"upset?" you scoffed, crossing your arms tightly. "you kidnapped me, rafe. upset doesn’t even begin to cover it."

he leaned against the doorframe, his eyes fixed on you, steady and unwavering. "i didn’t do this to hurt you," he said after a beat. "i did this because i didn’t know what else to do."

you blinked at him, stunned by the sheer audacity of his words. "you kidnapped me because you didn’t know what else to do? that’s supposed to make this okay? do you even hear yourself right now?"

"i didn’t want to lose you," he said quickly, his voice rising just enough to cut through your anger.

your breath caught, the weight of his confession settling heavily in the room. "so you thought dragging me here and forcing me to stay was the solution?"

"it’s not like that," he protested, stepping closer. "i just… i thought if we had time, if you weren’t surrounded by all those distractions, you’d see how much you mean to me."

"you don’t understand," he said quietly while looking intensely into your eyes. "i’ve never felt this way about anyone. and i know this isn’t the right way to show it, but i didn’t know how else to show you how i feel."

"i just wanted a chance," he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. "a chance to prove to you that i’m the one who cares the most. that i could make you happy."

for a moment, you said nothing, the silence stretching long and heavy. then, without another word, he turned and walked out, leaving you alone with your racing heart and the sound of the lock clicking into place.

of course, you had a small crush on rafe too. every time he came into the restaurant and you served him, your heart would skip a beat, your pulse quickening when he flashed you that effortless smile. there was something about the way he carried himself which was confident, yet a little precarious, that drew you in despite your better judgment. but still, you had no idea his feelings for you ran this deep, deep enough to bring you to a secluded location like this.

reluctantly, you gave in and began to eat the food he had provided. the flavors intrigued you, tasty and fulfilling, though they did little to calm the emotions inside you.

as you tried to mentally make sense of everything, rafe walked back in, his presence filling the room and catching you off guard all over again. his gaze was steady, intense, as if he could see every thought running through your mind.

"may i show you something?" rafe asked, his voice low and measured as he sat down on the bed next to you. you shivered slightly, a mix of fear and anticipation coursing through you. his closeness felt overwhelming, and you weren’t sure whether to lean away or stay still.

he pulled out his phone, unlocking it with a practiced swipe, and turned the screen toward you. there, in his photo gallery, were images of you, a few from the restaurant, others from your home, and others from random places you didn’t even realize you’d been seen.

"this is how it started," he began, his tone oddly tender, as though he were sharing a precious secret. "i noticed you. everything about you drew me in. the way you move, the way you smile, the way you’re so kind to everyone, even people who don’t deserve it. that's why i gave you so much a tip that day, so you would notice me back. and that's why i kept coming back, in hopes you would fall for me too."

his eyes flicked from the screen to you, searching your face for a reaction. you felt a knot tighten in your stomach as he continued, explaining how his fascination with you grew into something more—something he couldn’t shake, no matter how hard he tried.

"rafe-" you started, your voice trembling, but the words were cut off as he leaned in suddenly, his lips pressing against yours. you froze, your body stiffening as a wave of unease washed over you. his kiss was insistent, his hand grazing your cheek, but instead of warmth, you felt a chill of dread creeping up your spine.

your mind screamed at you to pull away, but your body felt paralyzed, caught off guard by the suddenness of it all. when he finally pulled back, his eyes locked onto yours, searching for something. approval, maybe, or permission.

"you don’t have to look so scared," he murmured, a small, almost amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

you swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. "rafe, i... i don't-" you started, but your voice faltered under his intense gaze. he tilted his head slightly and the tension in the room only grew heavier.

"it doesn't have to be like this. please, let me go, and we can go out together instead and get to know each other more," you said, your voice shaky with fear. the words tumbled out in a desperate attempt to regain control, but rafe's expression hardened, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you.

he didn’t respond right away, his gaze shifting as if he was assessing whether you were serious or simply trying to escape. the silence was suffocating, and the air around you felt thick with tension. finally, he clicked his tongue, a sharp, disapproving sound that made your heart race even faster.

"you don’t get to decide that," rafe murmured, his voice low and his fingers tightened slightly, and the warmth of his hand felt more like a weight now. "i’ve been patient, but you're not going to talk your way out of this."

suddenly, you felt rafe grab your the sides of your arms tightly, and forcefully pushed you to lay down on the bed. the cushions hit you hard as did the weight of him abruptly getting on top of you. the warmth of his body overwhelmed you as his lips crashed onto yours in seconds.

you were mumbling against his mouth, trying to speak words, but this only made him attempt to slide his tongue into your mouth as your lips parted. you felt him exploring, every part of you, as his hands roamed around your body, where he stopped to tightly grip your plush inner thighs.

"rafe, no!" you mumbled against his mouth but it was no use as his mouth was intertwined with yours. you used all of your strength trying to push him, using your hands to firmly grip his shoulders and try your absolute hardest to push him away. but this only angered rafe as he finally parted his face from yours and looked intensely into your eyes with pure hunger.

"don’t you see how much i need you?!" he nearly screamed in your face, his voice echoing in the confined space. the sheer intensity of his outburst sent a jolt of terror through you, your breath catching in your throat.

you were frozen, your body trembling beneath him as if every muscle refused to obey. the room seemed to shrink around you, the walls pressing in as his presence felt larger. your heartbeat pounded in your ears, drowning out any coherent thought, leaving only the raw, overwhelming instinct to flee.

"all this fucking time! i need you right now. and i finally have you here all to myself." even while laying on top of you, he still managed to pull out a few feet of soft rope from his pockets. he proceeded to pin you down as he tightly grabbed your wrists, joining them together. you winced in pain from how tight he was gripping them, bound to leave marks on your soft flesh. with one hand proceeding to grip them together, he used his other to wrap the rope around it and make a knot to tie it together. with the remaining few feet, he used it to tie your joint wrists on the metal headboard.

you shivered as you noticed the pocket knife he suddenly pulled out and the loud noise of the blade flicking out.

"rafe, no!" you screamed, your voice breaking with panic as you tried to twist away from him, still confined with rope.

he barely flinched, his expression calm but unnervingly intense. "don’t worry, baby," he said softly, his tone almost soothing, though it sent a chill down your spine. ‘i’m not going to hurt you. i just need to get you out of these clothes."

your breath hitched as the blade glinted under the sunlight. you froze, your heart pounding wildly as he brought it to the hem of your shirt. with careful precision, he began slicing through the fabric, the sound of the knife tearing through cloth sharp and deafening in the otherwise silent room.

tears welled up in your eyes, a mix of fear and humiliation coursing through you. you wanted to fight, to scream again, but the weight of his presence kept you paralyzed. he worked methodically, as though this was perfectly normal, while you could barely breathe, your mind racing with desperate thoughts of escape.

you were vulnerable in front of him, stripped down to nothing but your undergarments.

your hands trembled as you wanted to shield yourself, but of course, this did little to ease the sense of exposure when you were tied up. your breath came in uneven gasps, and you kept your eyes fixed firmly on the walls beside you, refusing to meet his. but even without looking, you could feel the intensity of his stare, unyielding and possessive, making it impossible to ignore him.

you shivered as suddenly, the cold blade was held against your skin and you felt it gradually slide down to your waist. even though you were consumed with fear, you were paralyzed, fixed in your position and trying to not get cut by the blade already so close to your skin.

"so beautiful...so delicate." rafe was admiring you nearly naked underneath him as his other hand was gently caressing your skin. he leaned in to your face, causing you to instinctly turn your head to the side but he only leaned in to whisper in your ear, "so soft..."

he was still leaned in to you and your body nearly jumped from the sudden feeling of his rough hand coming down to your mound, where he began to gently rub your clit through your panties.

"you claim you don't want this....yet you're so wet baby."

his face inched closer, his breath warm against your skin. before you could react, his lips captured yours, pressing firmly as if claiming you. his kiss was invasive, his tongue slipping past your lips to explore, dominating the space with an intensity that left you breathless. the kiss deepened, leaving you struggling to process the whirlwind of emotions coursing through you.

he was right. if this was not what you wanted, why was your body giving in like this? deep down, you internally had to admit to yourself a part of you wanted this. a part of you was turned on by him doing all of this. and this whole time, you had wanted him.

he leaned back from you again, taking a moment to deeply stare at you, admiring his view of you tied up underneath him like this. he sat on his ankles and used one hand to firmly grab your waist steady and the blade that had been held so still against your skin now was trying to get underneath your panties. rafe proceeded to flip the blade amidst your skin and rise it up, in attempt to cut the delicate lace of the panties. he swiftly moved it out of the way, stuffing it into his pockets for later.

he softly gripped your inner thighs and parted them, holding it in place into the mattress. he lowered his face to hover over your mound and you could feel his hot breath against you.

he licked a long stripe up your puffy folds, causing you to loudly gasp and whimper when his wet tongue held still at your bud, sending waves of pleasure through you. when he continued to intricately explore your pussy with his tongue, making sure to it made you arch your back and curl your toes as you were clenching around his tongue that was abruptly inserted into your hole.

as he continued his movements, your body felt pure euphoria from his touch. rafe was holding your hips roughly down into the mattress, and your thighs were tightly closed onto his face, which only encouraged him to continue and explore your folds with his tongue while rubbing the tip of his nose on your delicate clit.

"such a good girl, huh? taking me so well...i knew you would like this." while gripping his firm grip on ur hips, he leaned out of your crotch, only causing you to audibly whimper from the lack of touch. "don't worry baby..."

he kept one hand to grip your hips as usual, but he released the other to suck two joint fingers, his middle and his ring, into his mouth. after properly lubricating himself, he slowly stuck the fingers into your wet and needy hole, paying particular attention to your reaction. at first, you winced at the sting that came from his abrupt entrance to you. but his face came to yours and he softly kissed your forehead, "it's ok baby, please breathe through it. i promise it will feel so good."

he began to slowly thrust them in and out, pushing them in with ease because of your arousal. while continuing to thrust at a steady yet gradual pace, he lowered his head back in to suck on your sensitive clit. the amount of pleasure crashed onto you and you began to loudly whimper and moan with the eyes rolling to the back of your head. you whimpered to him, "rafe, please keep going..."

of course, he obliged, and continued to suck on your bud so well, and thrust his fingers in and out of your hole, each time hitting that sweet spongy spot was making your toes curl and sending you closer to your release.

you felt the coil in your stomach began to tighten as he was perfectly curling his fingers inside of you and continuing his steady pace. you began to melt onto his touch as you felt your release coming. he was eager to draw your orgasm out, and he continued to suck on your swollen bud while pumping his fingers in and out of your sopping cunt.

your chest heaved as you struggled to catch your breath, each inhale loud and ragged from your intense release. your body glowed with a sheen of sweat, the dampness clinging to your skin as the adrenaline coursing through you kept your heart pounding.

he suddenly came face to face with you, feeling his intense breath on your face and that throbbing feeling in your crotch. "you look so beautiful right now." you blushed at his response and only looked at him through your eyelashes.

he smirked and chuckled at you, "we're not finished yet baby..." you felt surprised at his words and were curious, wondering intensely what he meant and what was going to happen next.

the mattress suddenly sprung back up from the release of his weight on it as rafe hovered over the bed. he slowly, wanting you to pay close attention and to tease you, used his hands to undo his belt, letting his jeans fall down to his ankles. he took his socked feet out of the bundle of fabric and slowly, again, lowered his boxers to free his hard cock that slapped his stomach. his large pink tip was already glistening with his leaking pre-cum and you were drooling at the sight, legs clenched together trying to soothe the throbbing feeling.

he came back onto the mattress, legs spread apart as your chest was between his thighs. you licked a small part of your lips as his large cock was in front of your eyes.

rafe gently cupped your chin, tilting your face upward to meet his gaze. his eyes bore into yours, filled with an intense, almost predatory hunger that made your stomach twist. his touch was soft and tender, yet the weight of his intention was clear.

with a slow, deliberate motion, he brushed his thumb over your bottom lip, the pad of his finger lingering for a moment before gently parting your lips.

he raspily said to you, "are you gonna take me like a good girl?" all you could make out was an eager nod to him. you were desperate and admittedly hungry for him. he chuckled again, "yeah, you're gonna suck me?"

he used one hand to softly cup the back of your head, holding it up to look at him while he used the other to stroke himself in front of you. he spitted in his hand and then proceeded his same stroking motion, releasing a groan.

suddenly, he used his hand to slap his tip on your lips, making you instinctively part them for you to kiss it ever so softly. he groaned at this small movement and murmured, "make sure to flatten that tongue, alright baby?" you listened and opened your mouth wide for him as he moved the rest of your length inside of you. he began to use both of his hands to hold your head as he began to slowly thrust himself in and out of your mouth. his head was arched back, eyes rolling to the back of his head, and he was loudly groaning at the feeling of your wet mouth taking all of him. drool was falling off the corners of your mouth as his leaking tip was hitting the back of your throat. at this point, you were already choking on his length.

he continued to pump his cock in and out of your mouth for a few moments until he abruptly came out, letting you catch your breath. he came back down to meet face to face with you and he began to undo the knot that held you to the bed frame, letting your wrists gently fall into his hands. you softly held his hair as he lowered his head gradually down your body, planting his kisses on your skin.

he gently kissed your folds as he parted your legs, planting them into the mattress like earlier. he adjusted himself to be perfectly between your legs, lifting your waist up and lining himself up with your wet entrance.

"don't worry angel, we can take our time, alright? just let me know whenever you're ready." you nodded and while making sure you were looking at him, he slapped your folds with your tip and glided it gently up and down your folds. he was taking his time, enjoying the sight of you whimpering at this touch regardless and waiting with anticipation.

you loudly whimpered to him, "rafe, please!" he chuckled at you and and said, "ok! ok..." he looked into your eyes as he entered you slowly, feeling yourself sink down on his length. you tightly closed your eyes at this sudden entrance and you felt him scoot his way between your arms so you could have them wrapped around his neck. he began to plant gentle kisses down your neck and cheeks, wiping your tears away. "remember to breathe, alright baby? you can do it..." he waited a minute for you to adjust to his length, staying in his position even though he wanted to thrust into you so much. you were so warm and tight wrapped around him, both of you moaning as you began to gently move, signaling you were comfortable and ready for his length.

he began to gradually move his cock in and out of your walls, making you moan at every stroke. "you were just begging for this cock, weren't you huh?" you nodded at him, arms wrapped around him and tightly gripping onto his hair as you wrapped your legs around his waist, encouraging him to move more. you were bucking your hips to meet his as his pace was increasing, easily sliding in and out of you because of your arousal. you were nearly a moaning mess underneath him as your leaking pussy was wrapped around his rock hard cock. his length was gradually driving into your needy cunt mercilessly.

he groaned to you, "you're so beautiful like this...cock-hungry and taking me so well."

his cock continued to perfectly kiss your cervix with each thrust, arms wrapped around your waist for him to stroke that sweet spot inside of you. you felt yourself already nearing your release but this changed when rafe's hand began to gently rub your sensitive clit, while ramming into your hole. your walls were further clenching around him as you were about to cum for him, his cock already sliding perfectly in and out of you and the skin-slapping sound echoing across the room. his raspy voice echoed in the room, 'm gonna cum inside of this pussy angel..."

his words made your velvety walls spasm around his length as your orgasm crashed over you. your body shuddered with pleasure as loud moans came from you. you squeezed around his length, milking him for all he had as he continued to pump himself inside of you, inside of your snug walls.

"i'm so close..." rafe groaned, burying his head in the crook of your neck. "can't wait to see you with my baby."

you instinctively were trying to rhythmically move yourself on his cock and rafe continued to loudly groan while loud whimpers were releasing from you as he thrusted into you at a faster pace. he moved his head out of the crook of your neck to passionately kiss you, his tongue meeting with yours and intertwining in heat. he twitched while deeply inside of you, ropes of his cum filling you, while he groaned inside of your mouth. he moved himself ever so slightly to make sure he was as deep inside of and as close to you as possible. his thrusts became sloppier and eventually halted as he fell on top of you, cupping your face to meet his and eagerly meeting his lips with yours. you moaned into his touch and kissed him back, only thinking about him.

he moved to lay beside you, both of your breaths eventually synchronizing. after releasing the knot that was on your wrists, he wrapped his arms around you, scooting you to be closer to him. you buried your head in the crook of the neck, seeking comfort in the moment.

"rafe... i want to stay with you," you looked up again and whispered, your voice soft and tinged with vulnerability as you batted your eyes, lying beside him. his expression softened instantly, the intensity in his eyes giving way to something warmer, almost tender.

he reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face with surprising gentleness. "you don’t know how much that means to me," he murmured, his voice low and filled with emotion.

you felt his arm slide around your waist, pulling you closer until your head rested against his chest. his heartbeat was steady, a rhythmic thrum that somehow began to lull you into a sense of calm despite everything. his fingers traced lazy patterns along your back, and you found yourself relaxing against him, your eyelids growing heavy.

"you’re safe with me," he whispered, his breath warm against your hair. those words echoed in your mind as the tension in your body melted away.

before long, his breathing slowed, evening out as sleep overtook him. you lay there for a while longer, listening to the quiet rise and fall of his chest.

tomorrow, you would talk to him. together, you’d slow things down, take the time to truly understand each other, and ensure that this—whatever it was—could become something real, something you wouldn’t regret.

with that thought easing the weight in your chest, you let your eyes close, his steady breathing guiding you into a nap.

taglist! - @purplerose291, @o0itsjustme0o, @gillybear17, @l1ttlesstar, @10ava01, @frankoceanluvr11, @mattyskies, @my-name-is-baby, @ironmakerperfection, @cherry-coloureddfunk, @hoelesslyt, @crazylady20, @itsyourmanjuno, @wtfdudesblog, @pillowprincess4him, @rafesfavouritegirl

[sparks-and-smoke]

Hello! Could I get a fic about Bucky accidentally finding the reader’s Christmas gifts to him? Maybe he tries (and fails) to act surprised?

Thank you (ps I know it’s after Christmas, sue me)

Aww~ I don't care that it's too late for the holidays. It's cute! Merry Christmas (belated)

Characters/Pairings: Bucky x reader (code name honey)

Content/Warnings: none it’s just goofy holiday fluff

Author Note: merry late Christmas, this may or may not be loosely based in the Fate Stone AU I have brewing. (which since you are my beta reader ;) you already know about it.)

You are a notoriously bad gift giver, Bucky had been warned many times. He didn’t really care. As long as it came from the heart it couldn’t possibly be that bad. He could put up with socks or a cheesy mug as long as it came from you. But this was worse, so much worse. 

“Sam, I don't even know what to do with it.” Bucky rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hands, confiding in the only other person he knew that wouldn’t immediately tell Honey. “Can I be honest here, it’s hideous.”

Sam was keeping a pretty good poker face over his mug poker but the situation was undeniably funny. “It can’t possibly be that bad.” But Bucky’s mortified face said it all. “Why were you spying on her gift away?”

“I didn’t mean too! Necessarily. She hid it in the bottom of the closet, man. She didn’t even hide it well... I’m a spy, I notice things. Plus it was pretty hard to miss.” The blanket had been tucked away in the back of the walk-in closet under a few other things. But the obnoxious colors of the corner peeking out from under the folded jeans had caught his eyes. They didn’t own anything in orange. Anything.  

His honey had gotten him a blanket, which would normally have been so very sweet seeing how Bucky hated being cold, but it wasn’t just a blanket. It was one of those viral blankets, the ones that are loosely based on 70’s rock band merch with lighting and thunder clouds rolling in the background. It’s featured pictures of Alpine, every goofy spastic picture of the cat that his girl could find with her name in the boldest font Bucky had ever seen. Honestly it hurt his eyes, and as Bucky went about describing it to Sam the other man damn near fell out of his chair. 

“That is perfect. No really I think she might be a genius. I’m gonna need a video of you opening that one.” Sam goaded.

“You're not helping.” Bucky growls, guilt twisting in his guts like a worm, but Sam was too busy laughing to try and give a shit. “How am I gonna act surprised now? Let alone be excited?”

“I don’t dude, I guess you need to start taking an acting class.” Sam wiped the tears from his eyes.

~~~~

Bucky watched with crinkled eyes as you opened your gifts from him. A nice wool winter coat because all you owned was a puffer, and while it was adorable on you and always kept you warm you always said you wanted something dressier for date night. And in your stocking an assortment of your favorite treats, skin care you were low on, and that perfume that you had been drooling over since October but always talked yourself out of because of the price tag. Bucky had been making a list since your birthday, keeping tabs on what you lingered on in stores and what you sighed at as you scrolled. He knew his girl and he knew her well. And the way you lit up with every item told him he hit it out of the park. 

“Do you like it Honey?” he asked, his chin propped on his hand. His face couldn’t have been softer or voice more full of love as he watched you glow with joy. 

“I love it. How did you even know what eye cream I use?” 

“It wasn't that hard doll.” Bucky laughed, it sits in a clear box on your vanity of course he knows. 

“Here! Open yours.” You hand him his stocking and the present wrapped in pretty silver paper, looking so excited you may vibrate across the floor. He plastered on his best game face as his stomach did a little flip. Do not ruin this for her Barnes. 

He starts with the stocking. Pulling out body wash and a cologne scented with that smoky bourbon and apple scent you were fond of, along with a small batch roasted coffee and some new gloves. So far so good, and he made sure to kiss you. “I love it honey.”

“Yeah, but you haven’t opened your big one.” you say with a twinkle in your eyes that makes him wanna melt into the floor. Should he tell her, confess he saw it? Risk it and pretend he loves it? 

“You’re right I haven’t.” he corrects himself with a smile picking up the package. It was instantly heavier than he remembered and as he tears open the package he has a brief (very guilty) moment of hoping that maybe he was wrong…

But no there it is. That hideous blanket that he knows instantly from the look on your face he is gonna end up snuggling under for the rest of time just to see you smile the way you are right in this moment. He opened his mouth to tell you thanks as genuinely as he could muster but honey was already biting her bottom lip. A fit of giggles falling out of her. “You already saw it didn’t you!” she managed to get out between chitters. 

“What?! No- I…” 

A pillow from the couch flew at his head. “I knew you would. You little sneak, you do this every year!” Honey chastised as Bucky dodged another swing with the pillow. 

“Hey! Whoa!” Bucky's arms go up in a weak attempt at blocking her little onslaught. “I didn’t mean too!”

“Bullshit James Buchanan!” thump, a hit to his ribs. “You did it on your birthday.” Whack, a bump to the top of his head. “You somehow sniffed out the tickets I bought to Coney Island.” one more swing but this time Bucky caught the pillow, pulling you into his lap with it. 

“I did not do it on purpose!” he defended, but he was beaming. Eyes crinkling in the corner as she glared playfully. “I didn’t!” 

“Yeah, you just somehow stumbled upon the blanket I hid under the laundry in the back of our closet.”

“I was looking for my coat!” 

“On the ground?”

Bucky was caught, because yes he had been looking. He always did. The man couldn’t help it, he always was just too curious. “Yea, I thought so you little rat! Do you like it?” she asks earnestly. And Bucky feels that gnawing feeling again, trying not to let it show on his face. 

“It’s… super fluffy.” he tries to deflect, hating to lie to honey, but her face is already breaking into a grin. What the hell?

“You hate it.” she beams. “It’s hideous huh?”

Bucky frowns, slouching back in his chair. Did she want him to hate it. “Uh, yeah it is..” 

“Good thing it’s not your actual present huh.” 

Bucky's eyes narrow. “You little-” She did this on purpose, hid the most outrageous thing she could find just to punish him for spoiling presents. Clever girl. Weeks of fretting over how he was gonna pull this off and SHE KNEW THE WHOLE TIME. With a giggle honey climbs off his lap and back behind the couch, pulling out a slim package from the cavern behind, and Bucky’s face nearly splits in half. 

“Here. Merry Christmas.” She offers him the parcel with a kiss, sitting in his lap as he unwraps it, and he feels his heart flutter a little. It’s a scrapbook. Full of pictures of him, her, Alpine and their friends. Taken by everyone who has known them the last few years. There isn’t a lot, he doesn’t like taking pictures, preferring to take them. So she must have scoured their friends' phones to find all of these and Bucky can feel tear picking the backs of his eyes. Good tears. 

“Thank you Honey. I love it. I love you…”

[eufezco]

A FRESH START 𓂃 𓈒 ❀

synopsis — after leaving wakanda, bucky starts to rediscover who he is while living with you, slowly bulding a new life. his dispair deepens and you offer him a fresh start with a simple act: cutting his hair.

angst. fluff

—you have to stop thinking that every time something good is happening to you it's because something worse is on the way. that´s not a way to live, buck —. you said softly, your voice steady but with a hint of concern.

bucky shook his head, running a hand over his face as a sign of desperation. if only he could remember what life felt like before hydra took him, before all those wasted years. after so long he was still trying to figure it out, still trying to find a version of himself that didn’t feel like a stranger. trying to get used to his new life in the city, far from the peace he had known in wakanda. all these sudden changes only made him more confused and it wasn’t that he didn’t want to adjust, it was that he didn’t know how.

it had been a almost a year since bucky had moved in with you, since you had defeated thanos and steve had left. when the dora milaje declared him ready to live a normal life, bucky stood there, unsure of what that even meant. he had no place to go. louisiana crossed his mind for a moment, sam had always extended an open invitation but the thought of intruding on sam’s family life stopped him, and steve was gone, something he chose not to think much about, so for the first time in over a century, bucky was truly on his own.

except he wasn’t. you were there.

when you found out he needed a place, you didn’t think about it twice. he resisted at first. ayo told him you were the right person to star building his new life. you trust her, you trust her more than you admit. that is where you begin. trust. she is the right person to help you build this new life, james.

and he couldn't remember what you two had shared before hydra took him, before everything fell apart but there was a pull. by the things steve told him, you three were best friends once, inseparable. he spoke of nights you spent laughing, of how he’d head home early, leaving you and bucky behind, knowing that bucky would arrive later, with a big smile on his lips. steve chuckled when he mentioned your lipstick, smeared on bucky’s mouth when he finally made it back. you never wiped it off, you wore it like a badge of honor.

bucky tried to imagine it, those moments of joy but the memories never came. but he could still feel it. he felt it that day in wakanda, when you arrived with steve and natasha to fight thanos. you smiled at him, just a brief moment in the chaos, but it stayed with him. there was something so familiar about that smile, something warm and he felt it too every time you visited him or sent him what had once been his favorite sweets, little reminders of a life he no longer remembered but somehow still carried with him.

so, he showed up at your door a few days later, a bag hung over his shoulder and a sad look in his eyes. he didn't try to argue this time. —you sure about this?

you didn’t hesitate. —absolutely.

living with bucky was easy. he was quiet, he didn't need much space. after months, he started making it his place too, little by little. he left his shoes by the door beside yours, the book he picked up from one of your shelves appeared on the coffee table, his leather jacket draped over the back of a chair.

—it's not that easy —. he murmured, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

you watched him. —i know it’s not, —you said softly, stepping closer to him. —but you don’t have to do it all at once. no one expects that from you.

he shook his head again. —feels like they do, —he said, his blue eyes looking directly into yours. you could see the sadness and the guilt of the moments he couldn’t take back. —feels like every time i mess up, it’s just proof that i don’t belong here. as if this life was not made for me —his voice was low, barely more than a murmur. —what if the only thing i'm good at is killing?

you took a deep breath. it was hard to hear him say that, to see the man you’d known before hydra, who was your best friend and the love of your life, now drowning in self-doubt and guilt. —you’re more than what they made you.

—am i? because that’s all i’ve ever done. all i know how to do.

—but it’s not who you are, it’s what they forced you to be. the fact that you’re even asking this? that you’re fighting to be someone better? that’s proof enough that that wasn't you at all.

he closed his eyes tightly and ran his hands through the long strands of his hair. for a moment, you just stood there, watching him. you wanted to pull him back from whatever dark place his thoughts had taken him, but you hesitated, ayo told you to do so, to let him space to feel this, to fight against it, even if it hurt.

—i can still feel him inside my head, i can hear his thoughts. he's not gone.

bucky’s fingers suddenly grabbed the roots of his hair with a little more force. his breathing grew faster, his hands shook and his eyes squeezed shut. you couldn't see how deep his pain was and not do anything to stop him from hurting himself.

you stepped closer. —bucky, hey… —your hands sneaked into his hair, softly pulling his grip from his scalp. his hands were trembling, and for a moment, there was resistance in him like he wasn’t sure he wanted to let go of the only thing he could hold onto. but your touch was soft, familiar and something shifted, almost imperceptible, but you could feel the tension in him loosen.

—the bucky i knew isn’t gone. he’s still in there. i see him every time you fight for something good, every time you try to make amends, every time you care about the people around you, about me.

his shoulders fell, and his head hung low, he didn’t want you to see him like this, weak and broken. but you had seen him in his darkest moments as the winter soldier and you had experienced thanos taking him away from you with the blip. the years without him had been a painful, you thought you lost him forever. yet there he was, standing before you, alive, and you weren’t about to let him go again.

your hands gently moved to push the back of his head, guiding him to rest his forehead on your shoulder. he was still a bit unsure about how to handle this type of physical contact, used to years of torture, where touch always meant pain, control, or something to fear. now you held him close to your body, his arms hanging limply at his sides.

—why don’t i cut your hair?

—cut my hair?

—yeah, it´ll help you to see yourself in a different way. a fresh start.

bucky pulled back a little, he wasn’t sure if you were joking. —you think cutting my hair will fix everything?

you smiled softly, you wished it could be that easy. —no, —you admitted. —but ayo told your new life will be built on small things.

bucky sighed.

the idea of letting go parts of himself that tied him to the winter soldier felt like a whole world. first, it was his metal arm, the one with the red star, when tony ripped it off of him, bucky felt relieved, like tony was cutting one of the heads of the hydra to end the monster. in wakanda, he learned to live using only his flesh-and-blood arm until they gave him a new one which he only intended to use for good.

and now you were asking to cut his hair.

—ayo did say that, didn’t she? —he murmured, almost to himself.

—she’s a smart woman and besides, it’s just a haircut. if you hate it, it’ll grow back.

a small smile appeared in his lips. —if it ends up bad, i’m blaming you.

you took a chair from the kitchen to the bathroom and he sat down in front of the mirror. bucky stared at his reflection as he pressed his lips into a thin line and sighed. he didn't like mirrors, he avoided them as much as he could. he didn't like the person staring back at him, he didn't know who that man was and now sitting on that chair there was no escape.

there was a difference this time. next to one of the things he most hated to look at—his reflection—was one of the things he liked the most to look at—you.

his blue eyes moved from his reflection to yours. you stood behind him and ran your hands gently through his hair. he felt that familiar tickle in his stomach, the one he first felt almost a century ago and that, even after all the years, it hadn't gone away.

he felt it every morning when you entered the kitchen, hair a mess from sleep, mumbling a soft “good morning” to him. he felt it when he came home in the evenings and dinner was ready and you were sitting at the table, waiting for him. he felt it most when you would fell asleep on the couch and he had to carry you to your bed, careful not to wake you. and you'd ask him in your sleep to stay, and he'd freeze, he wanted to say yes, he wanted to stay. but he couldn’t risk it, his nightmares were still too real. so bucky would gently place you in your bed, making sure you were well tucked in, and whisper, i’ll be in my room, if you need anything.

—are you ready? —you asked him, bringing him back from his thoughts. you already had the scissors in your hand and bucky shifted in the chair at the sight of them. —it'll be okay, buck.

—feels like more than just a haircut.

you nodded, understanding. —well, that's what we wanted, isn't it?

bucky swallowed and nodded.

—why don't you close your eyes? i'll let you know when i'm done.

with a deep breath, he did as you said. your lips curved into a small smile even though he could no longer see you. you were aware of all the progress he had made. you knew he trusted you with his heart because on no other occasion he would willingly keep his eyes closed with someone standing behind him, scissors in hand and when your hands rested on his shoulders, he hadn’t flinched at the contact.

—okay, i'll start.

with his eyes closed it was much easier to feel the delicacy with which you treated him. the way your fingers combed through his scalp and then the sound of the scissors, followed by the sensation of the strands falling and taking with them the weight he had carried for so long. and you talked, about anything that crossed your mid so he did not feel that he was in danger or he had to be alert at any time.

—maybe we could get a cat, —you said. —i think it’d be nice. do you think you’d be a good cat parent?

—maybe —. he said after a pause. —i definitely prefer a cat to a dog.

you switched to the clippers, you left the hair at the top of his head a little longer, while the rest of it was cut shorter. a very chic haircut for someone born in 1917. you carefully checked that his hair was even and then you styled it with your fingers.

—okay, i'm done, you can open your eyes.

bucky hesitated for a moment, then opened his eyes. your breath caught in surprise as you watched him take in the sight of himself. it was like having the bucky you once knew staring right at you through the mirror. his features were the same, just a bit more more defined and mature.

he felt the same relief as when tony ripped off the metal arm that hydra embedded in his body, like a part of him that had once been used against him, now freed. he turned his head slowly to both sides to get a better look and to be honest, he liked his new look. physically, he could see the resemblance to the man in the photos you had shown him, the young soldier who smiled to you, in love.

—how do you feel? i think it suits you —. you asked gently.

bucky nodded. —i like it —. he caught your gaze in the mirror. the eye contact was so intense that you had to look away. you cleared your throat, hoping to ease the tension, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you.

—alright, come on, —you tapped his shoulder for him to stand up. — i'm going to sweep your hair off the floor.

bucky got up from the chair and turned his head to look at you, not through the mirror this time, but directly, and the sudden closeness made your breath hitch. —thank you for doing this.

—you don't need to thank me, buck. i'm glad it turned out well, it was my first time doing it.

—you sure about that? —he asked—it doesn’t feel like it was your first time.

you laughed, still avoiding his gaze. —guess we got lucky, then.

there was a silence; you were both too close, but not close enough yet. bucky’s eyes moved to your lips for just a fraction of a second, but it was enough to make your heart race. you could both feel the tension, an invisible string pulling you toward each other, daring one of you to close the gap. you didn’t want to take the first step, you didn’t want to push him into something he wasn’t ready for, the last thing you wanted was to break the fragile trust he’d built with you.

you opened your mouth to say something but he talked first.

—can i kiss you? —his voice was low, almost shy.

you were surprised because you didn't expected him to ask so directly, but consent was so important to him. he spent too many years under someone else’s control, forced into actions that weren’t his own, and now he was determined never to cross those lines. it wasn’t just about asking to kiss you, it was about making sure that you were comfortable, that you wanted this just as much as he did.

—yeah, —you whispered —you can.

bucky stepped closer, his flesh-and-blood hand reaching to cup your cheek, his fingers gently brushing against your skin. he leaned in, his movements careful, giving you every chance to pull away. but you didn’t. you leaned into him instead, your lips finally meeting his.

he felt strange. he had wanted to kiss you for what felt like forever, and now that he had, he wasn’t sure what to do next. his mind raced, trying to remember how this was supposed to go. he forgot about kissing, forgot about the rhythm of it, the give and take. his hand slipped from your cheek to fall awkwardly at his side as he pulled away from your lips just enough just to say:

—i don't... i don't remember how to do this.

—it's okay. you're doing just fine. there’s no right or wrong way. just… follow me.

this time, when your lips met, you moved slowly, guiding him. his tension disappeared as he mirrored your movements, his right hand returned to your cheek, the other, his metal one, moved to hold your hips. it wasn’t perfect, the movements of his lips were still hesitant, but there was something honest about the way he kissed you.

as he kissed you, bucky became more aware of his body and where his hands were and realized that his metal hand was resting lightly on your waist. he pulled the hand away quickly. —i'm sorry, i didn't mean to...

you shook your head, one of your hands flew to the back of his neck to connect your lips while your other one grabbed his vibranium arm and guided his hand to where it was before. as the kiss deepened, you felt him relax, stop worrying about whether he was doing it right or wrong, about the touch of his cold hand on your skin, and he just kissed you.

you hummed before parting ways. his cheeks were flushed, his lips were a bit swollen and glossy, his breathing a little uneven and you couldn't help a little laugh from escaping your lips.

—okay, now you're just laughing at me.

—you're so cute, buck.

[1425fivefive]

Just saw your kink prompt list and my brain went briefly offline because your writing + any of the kinks on the list? I think i'll literally spontaneously combust.

I'm literally on my knees and begging for Landoscar + 17 (breeding). Alternatively Landoscar + 12 (forced feminization), 21 (wet + messy) or 24 (inexperienced partner).

I read these 4 kink prompts and my brain went 'YES' particularly loudly.

Literally any of the above and I will be the happiest Elf on the Shelf!!

breeding for landoscar (with a lil bit of feminization as a treat)! (for the kink prompt asks)

Oscar needs to find whatever McLaren employee thought it was a good idea to hand Lando a baby and tell them to never do it again. Babies should be banned from the MTC. Banned from anywhere within five kilometers of Lando’s vicinity. Because now that Oscar’s seen Lando with a baby—the way Lando’s eyes lit up, his delighted grin, how he couldn’t stop trying to make the baby laugh—Oscar can’t stop thinking about anything other than knocking Lando up.

Oscar’s not an idiot. He knows they’re both men, knows Lando can’t get pregnant. But it doesn’t stop Oscar from imagining it. Lando’s taut stomach swelling with a baby. Their baby. His tits getting heavy and full, perfect little handfuls. Milk dribbling from his nipples, Oscar licking it up, dragging his tongue over the sensitive buds.

Oscar decides not to mention it, figures Lando will probably be more than a little put off by Oscar telling Lando, a man, that Oscar wants to get him pregnant. Instead, Oscar contents himself with digging his fingers into Lando’s belly while he fucks him, kissing Lando’s neck, telling Lando how pretty he is, how perfect, how well he takes Oscar’s cock. Whenever Oscar comes, he stays in Lando a little longer than usual, fantasizing about making it take.

After a few weeks, Oscar figures Lando hasn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary. That Lando thinks Oscar’s just being his usual, adoring self.

But Oscar fucks Lando in front of the bathroom mirror in Lando’s hotel room one night, one hand resting on Lando’s belly, the other squeezing Lando’s pec.

“Gonna fuck you so full of me,” Oscar moans, meeting Lando’s eyes in the mirror. “Get you so fucking full of my come.”

Lando whimpers, tipping his head back against Oscar’s shoulder. “Please, Osc. Want you to.”

“Yeah?” Oscar pants, grinding deeper into Lando. “Want me to fill you up?”

“Please,” Lando whines, hand coming up to grab at Oscar’s hair, tug him closer, deeper. “Make me full. Wanna feel you.”

Oscar feels delirious. He rolls Lando’s nipple between his fingers, drags Lando back on his cock, groaning at the sight of Lando’s dick flopping with each thrust of Oscar’s hips, dark and flushed.

“Touch yourself, sweetheart,” Oscar breathes. “Make yourself feel good.”

Lando whines and brings a hand down to his cock, rim tightening around Oscar.

“Yeah, Lando,” Oscar moans. “Just like that, good girl.”

Oscar doesn’t even realize what he’s said until he sees Lando’s mouth drop open, whole face going red, rim going ridiculously tight around Oscar.

“Oh, fuck,” Oscar stutters, thrusts slowing. “I didn’t, uh—”

Lando shakes his head so fast he looks like he might give himself whiplash, whining, “No, no, I liked it, please, Osc, you can—”

“Jesus,” Oscar groans, sinking his teeth into Lando’s shoulder, fucking in hard.

Lando cries out, cock blurting pre-come over his fingers, his tight little body shaking in Oscar’s hold.

“Yeah, Lando,” Oscar breathes, voice strained. “Make yourself feel good, baby, that’s it.”

“Oh,” Lando gasps, turning his head into Oscar’s neck, hand flying over his cock. “Oh, oh, oh—” He breaks off on a shaky moan, spilling all over his fist and the counter, panting against Oscar’s neck.

“Fuck,” Oscar groans, fingers tightening on Lando’s stomach. “God, Lando, that’s—”

“Osc,” Lando whimpers, starting to tremble from oversensitivity as his orgasm peters out.

Oscar starts to pull out, planning to come across Lando’s arse and thighs, but Lando throws a hand down to Oscar’s hip, keeping him in.

“No, please,” Lando begs, fucking himself back on Oscar’s cock. “Want you to—” He breaks off on a moan, eyes fluttering. But he opens them again, meets Oscar’s in the mirror. “Want you to fill me up,” he whimpers. “Want you to make me yours.”

Oscar’s panting against Lando’s shoulder, fucking him hard, deep, fast, lost in Lando’s eyes.

“Come in me,” Lando whispers. “Want you to give me a baby.”

Oscar comes with a shocked moan, whining and whimpering, spilling inside Lando, palm flat against Lando’s stomach, imagining Lando getting swollen and big with their baby.

“God,” Oscar moans, pressing in deeper, trying to make sure it takes. “God, Lando, fuck—”

“Yeah,” Lando whines, grinding back. “Yeah, Osc, please.”

Oscar gives Lando exactly what he wants. What they both want

After, Lando pulls them to the bed, drags Oscar’s hand to his arse and guides two of Oscar’s fingers to where he’s fucked open and puffy, wet with Oscar’s come.

“Want to keep you in,” Lando whispers, urging Oscar’s fingers inside.

“Fuck,” Oscar gasps and slips his fingers in, swallowing Lando’s whimper with a kiss.

When Oscar pulls back, he asks, “How’d you know?”

“What? That you wanted to knock me up?” Lando asks, smiling lazily.

Oscar huffs a laugh. “Yeah.”

Lando’s grin widens, and he tips his forehead against Oscar’s. “You’re easier to read than you think.”

Oscar’s chest aches, everything going soft. “Nah,” Oscar whispers. “Think you just know me too well.”

Lando tucks himself tighter against Oscar, letting out a pleased little hum.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 6 - Everything I Do

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Sam Winchester/Reader (platonic), light fluff, mutual pining, light angst, love confession, smut (handjob, fingering, p in v sex), Dean's got the Mark of Cain, uh oh.

Summary/Warnings: The Mark reaches a breaking point. Usual Warnings, little angst, lotta smut.

Author's Note: I am of the firm belief Rowena would’ve said cunt religiously if the CW wasn’t full of a bunch of pussies.

Chapter title from Video Games by Lana Del Ray

Word Count: 8.7k

Read on A03!

Chapter 5

Dean can breathe. Not easily, but he can. He can feel the weight of something airy and thin wrapped around him, stuck to his skin and far too heavy. There’s a hand on his brow, and it’s not the right one. Dean’s not sure what the right one would even be, but he knows it’s not this one. This one feels a little wrinkled, and the nails are too long, and it doesn’t satiate the betterlust. It’s just there, pressed to his skin like it’s looking for something and not all too pleased with what it finds.

The longer it’s there, the more the betterlust pounds and stabs and scrapes at him. Rots his guts and carves open his skull and rips through his chest. It’s searching for something that’s not there, and Dean’s head is too clouded with pain and ache and sickness to figure out where he should even be looking. Not in the hand. Not in the thing around him like a shroud–hot and clinging to him like a plague—but maybe somewhere close. Because wherever Dean is—he doesn’t know, and he doesn’t have enough of a brain to guess right now—it’s unfamiliar, but feels right. He’s lying on something soft, and it smells good, and when his fingers flex, they’re tracing over an impression left on the area next to him. An indent left on the space by something that could curve and press into Dean exactly like he wants. Craves. Needs. 

The betterlust starts to flare and bellow, almost drowning out the low voices around him, and Dean knows he might die if he doesn’t find what fits into that impression and take it.

“How long has he been like this?”

“I’m not sure, a few hours?”

“Well can you try to be sure, Samuel?”

“I got here the same time you did, how am I supposed to be sure-“

“Ask our resident Dean Expert, the poor girl has been stuck with him all week-“

“No, I’m not going to make her do more. And, uh,” there’s a long sigh, and Dean still isn’t really sure what’s going on, or who these people are, or why they’re talking about him. “I don’t think it’s safe for her right now. To be around him. He said he didn’t want her-“

“He obviously lied, you idiotic boy-“

“He didn’t want her to know, Rowena. And it’s not my place to tell her-“

“She’s a big girl, she’ll survive a little bit of emotions.”

“He’d, he’d fucking kill me-“

“And he will kill himself if he does not accept what he needs! It’s quite honestly a miracle he was a stubborn enough arse to resist the Mark’s demands this long.”

Dean’s really fucking confused. There are two voices, one that sounds a little like his and one that very much doesn’t, and they’re both talking about him like he’s important. He doesn’t feel important. He mostly just feels tired, and bad, and sick. Sweaty and hungry and desperate for something he can’t name, but they say he needs to name or he’ll die, and he doesn’t even really know what names are right now-

“If I tell her, this becomes her responsibility-“

“Well, Dearie, I wasn’t aware you were stupid and blind-“

“Hey-“

“You cannot look me in the eyes and say that she would not welcome the responsibility, boy. She is so pathetically obsessed with him it makes me feel ill.”

Dean felt his mouth try to frown—he can’t figure out how to move, so it more of a twisted grimace—as he racked his mush of a brain to figure out who they could possibly be referring to. He couldn’t remember names, but he could remember presences. Remember that the voice like his was good, and he was supposed to protect it. The voice that wasn’t like his was bad, and kind of a bitch, but helpful when they ran out of options. There wasn’t a third voice, but there was a smell that he really liked. Loved. Craved. Needed-

That was the imprint. And it wasn’t here right now, but the betterlust and already spiraling around it and constricting his lungs as he tried to find it. He needed it, and it didn’t need him, and he was going to die-

“I know,” the familiar voice sighed. “Believe me, I know, but I can’t ask that of her-“

“She’ll shred your sorry arse apart if you don’t-“

“And Dean will put a bullet through my brain if I do!”

“He will die before he gets the chance. Have I not made it clear that, unless Dean receives the help our lovely, pretty, lovesick-“

Then the voice that wasn’t like Dean’s said a name, and the betterlust exploded inside him. He knew that name. He’d die and kill and cut himself to pieces for that name. He wanted it. He couldn’t have it. He needed it, more than he needs air or water or food or music. The betterlust demanded it, and was shredding apart his insides because he refused to take it, but was also lending him the strength to find it. To find Her. Dean needed to fucking find Her, or nothing would ever be good again-

His eyes fly open, and for a long movement everything is only a blinding blur of color. There’s noise around him—both voices shouting words that sound like they’re for him but he can’t understand—and Dean’s brain kicks into a vigilant, borderline feral function as he hauls himself up, something pushes him back down, and the betterlust grew feral.

“Rowena, grab the other arm-“

“I am not meant for brute labor, Samuel-“

“Are you fucking kidding me-“

Dean roars Her name clawing and grabbing at the air to try and go, try to get to Her, because he was going to fucking die, and the betterlust told him She could fix this, make this better, make Dean better-

“Oh for- Fine.” 

The voice not like Dean’s says something he can’t understand, his whole body tightens. Like a weight has been dropped on his chest, and ropes have been wrapped around his limbs, forcing him to collapse back onto the bed with a noise that might have been a whine.

“Dean.” Rowena appears in his vision, her face drawn in annoyance. “Blink twice if you understand me.”

Dean scowls, but blinked twice.

“Good. Are you going to try and kill us again?”

Dean glowers at Rowena, keeping his eyes wide open in a gesture of no, and she sighs.

“Good boy. I’ll let you up, but if you ever try and grab my hair again, I’ll make you regret having hands, aye?”

The tension vanishes from Dean’s body, and he sits up slowly, pinch the bridge of his nose to try and curb the pounding ache behind his eyes, taking deep, mechanical breathes to get some fucking control over his body. Over the betterlust. Over himself.

“Dean, are you feeling okay?“

Sam looks worried. He’s frowning and scanning over Dean with concern, like there will be wound on his skin they can patch up to fix this. 

But only one thing can fix this. And Dean still isn’t strong enough to not know where She is, not when all he can remember is dragging himself to Her room, and hearing her voice, and seeing her pretty face before it all went dark. 

Dean mutters Her name, his voice low and gruff, and Sam and Rowena freeze. “Where is she.”

“She’s eating.” Sam mutters, bracing his hands on his hips. “I told her to get some rest. You freaked her out, dude, she-“ Sam shakes his head, giving Dean a look he doesn’t understand, and doesn’t have the energy to try and decipher. “She was really shaken, when we got back. She needs-“

“She needs you.” Rowena interrupts Sam, and he shoots her a venomous glare. “You’re too much of a meat-headed dolt to see it, but that darling girl looked as if she’d been devastated over you.” 

“Rowena.” Sam hisses. “We agreed-“

“You agreed. I made no promises-“

Dean raises his hands—they both need to shut up, or his skin will fly off his body—and their argument stutters off.

“How bad is it.” He looks to Rowena, the moment alone an act of labor. “And don’t try to lie or sugarcoat it. How long I got.”

Rowena sighs. “If you insist on keeping your head up your own arse, a day. Maybe two.”

“But we’re going to try to reverse it.” Sam jumps in, his voice desperate. “And Rowena gave you something to keep you going-“

“But, as I told your brother,” Rowena’s words are harsh, and Dean appreciates it. This really isn’t the fucking time for dancing around anything. “It is a very temporary solution, and the reversal will take time you no longer have. There is an obvious fix to your little problem-“

Dean lets out a dry chuckled. “My problem? Last I checked, Rowena, you were the one who fucked this up-“

“I did not fuck anything up, you petulant man child-“

“Rowena-“

“No!” Rowena cuts off Sam with sharp words, holding Dean’s glare. “I did my job, Dean Winchester, but you are too much of an arrogant, brooding little cunt to do yours.”

Dean narrows his eyes. “Watch it, bitch-“

“I did not have to help you,” Rowena hisses. “But that poor, desperate, lovesick woman begged me to. You know exactly what you need, and you are too cruel and stupid to do it.”

Dean’s hands curl into fists on the sheets. “I said fucking watch it-“

“She’s right.” Sam mutters, and Dean’s gaze whips to him, his mouth falling open at Sam’s pitying, exhausted expression.

“I’m sorry, I must be going insane, because there’s no fucking way you just sided with Rowena-“

“I didn’t side with her.” Sam snaps, running a hand over his face as he shakes his head. “I’m just trying to get you to think for five seconds. I’m trying not to lose my brother because he can’t see what’s right in front of him-“

Dean scoffs. “There’s nothing in front of me, Sam. Rowena botched the spell, and now I can’t do anything but-“ He cuts himself off with a groan, a stab of pain twisting over his ribs, and Sam throws his hands in the air.

“For crying out loud, Dean, you’re dying because of this self-righteous, sacrificial bullshit you always pull! Rowena didn’t botch the spell, you’re just refusing to give the Mark what it wants, and until you do-“

“It doesn’t matter what I want!” Dean roars, slamming a hand down on the mattress. “Fuck, Sam, I’m not going to force myself onto her just because-“

“Because you think she’ll say no?” Sam rolls his eyes. “Dude, you can’t be stupid enough to really believe that-“

Dean scowls. They don’t fucking get it. Sam and Rowena don’t know Her like Dean does. They don’t understand that She would say yes, but she wouldn’t really want it, and Dean would stain and mark Her in a way that they’d never come back from. She’d never smile at him the same, and he’d have to die alone in the dirt when she finally got the memo that he wasn’t worth helping. When She left him, her soul more tainted than when she’d found him. When his poison sunk into Her skin, and she would still be so pretty and amazing, but ruined and marred from Dean’s touch. From how weak and pathetic and toxic he was. 

He couldn’t do that. He’d rather fucking die.

“Just drop it, Sammy.” Dean mutters, his gaze falling to that imprint of Her on the bed. Her bed. Dean was finally in Her bed, and he didn’t even get to enjoy it. “It’s not happening. And you’re not going to convince me, so either fix this, or let me die without goddamn yelling at me.”

There’s a moment of wired silence, Rowena silent in the corner of the room as Sam and Dean glare at each other, and Sam shakes his head like he can’t believe Dean’s nerve. Like Dean isn’t saving the only good thing they both have. Protecting the only person that’s stayed with them, that they both love, even if Dean’s love is made of undying, animalistic, grime and dirt covered devotion, and Sam’s is purer, softer affection that could never cut and scar Her like Dean’s. 

“She was crying.” Sam finally says, his tone colder than Dean’s heard it in a long time. “When we got back, she was sobbing, Dean. Have you ever seen her cry? Ever?”

He hasn’t. Dean has seen Her grit her teeth and bite back sounds of agony from injuries, seen Her scream and flail when they’ve lost people, and seen Her so angry it scared him a little, but he’s never seen Her cry. She didn’t cry. Her eyes got glossy, and her voice grew tight and choked, but she didn’t cry. Sam has to be lying, and he doesn’t look or sound like he is, but he has to be. She doesn’t cry, so why the hell would that be the truth? But why would Sam lie, and why has She stayed this long, and fuck, everything hurts and Dean’s too damn tired to figure out what the hell Sam is trying to tell him but the betterlust is scratching at his heart to know-

“Sam,” Dean swallows, watching his brother carefully. “I-“

There’s a knock at the door, and everything in Dean flies to the sound. It’s Her. Before Sam’s hand is even on the doorknob, Dean somehow knows it’s Her. Here. Maybe for him, maybe not, but the betterlust doesn’t seem to care because it’s Her-

She looks horrible. Still so fucking pretty, but horrible. There’s a slump to Her posture as she stands in the door—hair tangled and shirt wrinkled—and Her gorgeous face is slightly puffed. Her lips pouting. Her eyes lined with red. 

Like She’s been crying. 

Sam says Her name in question, and when She speaks her voice is hoarse.

“Look, I know you to told me to rest, but-“ Her mouth falls open as her eyes land on Dean, and Her sharp inhale feels like it shoots adrenaline right into his blood. 

He tries to offer Her a winning, I’d be happy to see me too smile, but it doesn’t feel right on his face. It feels too vulnerable, where it’s always been like a shield. It feels like it’s a lie, or trick, or act of cruelty when Dean’s rarely met a woman who doesn’t flush and giggle under that attention. It’s supposed to make him feel good from their happy, hopeful eyes. It’s supposed to make them feel good from Dean’s well-crafted, carefully wielded charm.

But right now he still just feels like shit. Bottom of the gutter, horrible, flea-ridden and matted shit. A fucking piece of shit that might have made Her cry, and isn’t even smart enough to know why.

He tries again, making the smile wider, adding his most casual drawl. “Hey, Sweetheart-“

She makes a strangled sound—loud and pained, making the betterlust start to snap at Dean’s brittle spine—and all but runs to the bed, almost falling to Dean’s side as Her hands begin to grab at his face and run over his skin. Angling him for Her to examine with frantic eyes and words, igniting little paths of insatiable fire wherever She touches.

“Are you okay?!” She turns his head to the side, her fingers tracing his jaw and cheek like boils or scars might have just appeared. “Your fever is gone,” the back of Her hand presses to his brow, flipping to touch it with Her palm. “But shit, you’re covered in sweat-“ Her glare whips around to Sam, Her grip still tight on Dean’s face. He doesn’t really mind. The betterlust is still trying to climb out of his throat, but he can fight it—for Her—and this can be enough. It’s all he’ll get before he’s gone anyway. Her touch, and loud almost furious shout at Sam. “Why didn’t you change the sheets like I told you to-“

“He was dead weight,” Sam says Her name, his voice a hell of a lot kinder than when he’d been talking to Dean. “And you also told us to make sure he got some rest. Rowena said the fever broke, and he’s lucid again-“

“But this is gross Sam, and you could’ve moved him if you tried-“

“Moved him where? He started freaking whimpering when we took away your comforter-“ 

Dean scowls. “Can you guys stop talkin’ about me like I’m not right fucking here-“

Her gaze turns back to Dean, the odd, aggressively mind-numbing panic and care returning to her eyes as she begins to examine him once more. 

“You seem better, but you’re redder than you should be, and, shit, was that scar always there-“

Her finger’s trial over Dean’s chin, dangerously close to his mouth, and he has to bite down a groan as he says Her name. “That’s been there at least a decade-“

“What about this one-“

“Three years, you were there when I got it-“

“Fuck, you’re right.” She shakes her head, Her eyes suddenly boaring into Dean’s and settling warmth in his gut. “Well, are you feeling okay? Does anything hurt, or feel sick, or feel numb-“

“Sweetheart.” He catches Her hand, and she falls silent with wide eyes. “I’m-“

“And,” She moves his gaze onto Her’s, and fuck She’s always so pretty. Even when She’s pissed at him. Especially when She’s pissed at him. “Don’t you dare fucking lie to me, Winchester, I’ll stab you-“

He chuckles, and it’s dry and low, but maybe the realest sound he’s made since he woke up. “I don’t doubt that, Sweetheart.” He drawls, and she lets his guide Her hands away from his face. “But I promise, I’m feelin’ better.”

She nods slowly, and Dean pretends he can’t see Sam’s eye roll in the background.

“Oh. Okay.” She turns at Sam and Rowena, her voice slightly unsteady and weak. “Have you, um, have you both been in here? The whole time I was eating?”

Sam nods. “Yeah.”

“Oh.” She swallows, and Dean notices Her body go slightly rigid. Sam must notice too, because he tilts his head and frowns at her.

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, it’s just…” She trails off, staring at her nails as her voice drop to a mumble. “There’s a lot of people in here. Makes me nervous.”

“Shit, sorry.” Sam says Her name, his voice apologetic. “Didn’t know that. We can go, if you want.”

There’s a long moment where She’s just staring at Sam, Her mouth slightly open, and her body curled in on itself like she’d been punched. Sam repeats Her name, his voice cautious, and when She snaps out of it, her voice is still soft and anxious. 

“That would be good.” She whispers. “Thank you.”

Sam nods. “No problem. Me and Rowena,” he shoots the witch a glare, and she rolls her eyes. “Are gonna go try to fix this. Text me if you need anything, either of you.”

She hums an acknowledgment, Her attention never leaving Dean as Sam and Rowena close the door, and Dean’s whole existence begins to curve into only the feeling of Her as her fingers trace over the back of his hand. 

After a long moment of silence—only the sound of Dean’s heart in his ears and the shifting of blankets under their bodies—she swallows, her voice barely a breath. “They can’t fix it, can they.”

He blinks at Her. “They’re gonna get it-“

“Don’t lie to me, Dean.” She gives him a soft smile that makes her look like she’s already grieving, and something in him lights up and withers away in the same second. “Please.”

He swallows. He is really tired of lying to Her. And he can say something closer to the truth and still hold his ground. He’s not quite that weak. Not yet.

“It’ll be close.” He grunts. “But I’ve survived worse. I just gotta pull through-“

“You don’t, though.” She whispers. “Rowena said you just have to-“

“Rowena can eat me.” Dean mutters, glaring at the door. “I’m not doin’ whatever the hell the Mark tells me to, that was the fucking point of this.”

“The point was to help you, Dean.” She sounds so freaking sad, and it’s pulling Dean apart. His will and mind all being reduced to Her. Too good and pretty to be sad. And it’s just Dean. She shouldn’t be this sad over only Dean.

“Sweetheart-“

“I don’t,” She swallows, speaking over Dean with quiet, soft words. “I don’t know why you’re being such an ass, Dean. Why can’t you just do what the betterlust wants? Isn’t it what you want-“

“It is.” Dean has to push the words through his teeth, because She so close and it’s not close enough and everything fucking hurts. “But I can’t have it, so we’re dead in the water. But Sammy and Rowena-“

“Dean.”

He can’t look Her in the eyes. Her voice is so gentle and nervous, and he’s not strong enough to look Her in the eyes and see all that worry and pity in them. He can barely even grunt an acknowledgment for her to continue.

“What do you want?”

“I’m not gonna-“

“Is it me?” She whispers, and Dean’s eyes shoot to Her’s. He can’t breathe. He can’t do anything but stare at Her and try not to die as he realizes this is it. This is how he loses Her. Forever. This is the last time he gets to look at Her and bask in her beauty and kindness, the last time he gets to drown in the smell of cherries and feel a little more alive under Her touch.

But She doesn’t look afraid, or disgusted. She just looks urgent. Desperate. As confused and hopelessly hopeful as Dean feels.

And he can’t speak, or think, or do anything but stare at Her as she speaks again.

“Dean, do you,” She takes a shaking breath, and Dean needs to touch Her. “Do you love me?”

——————

He’s not saying anything. Dean’s looking at you like you’ve shot him right through his heart, ripped it out, and taken a bite. Gaping like he’s trying to ask you for it back but can’t find the breath to, blinking like he’s trying to test if you’re really there. He reaches a hand up to run over his own face, reaches out to touch you—trace broad, calloused fingers over your cheekbones and jaw, over your chin like he’s wiping something you can’t see away—and jerks back suddenly, like you’d hurt him. Burned him. Branded him.

He’s branded you. You’re never going to forget his voice in your head, sounding like he’s overdosed on something awful, and doesn’t think he’ll come back down. Like he’s trying to cleanse himself of something by whispering words that will either haunt you past the grave or feed you for the rest of your life. Your heart will never forget the way it stopped for only a second before kicking into a pace that was all too fast when Dean’s eyes closed, and your hands will always remember the cold fever of his skin.

“Dean.” You have to make your voice strong. Steady, like you’re demanding something from him and not praying to him. “Please-“

“Why-“ His voice is hoarse, almost strangled, and it makes your every muscle feel a little weaker. “Why would you ask that.”

“I’m, I can’t tell you, just please answer me-“

“Did Sam tell you-“

“Sam?” You frown, shaking your head slightly. “No, I just, this has nothing to do with Sam-“

“Then why the hell are you-“

“What would Sam have told me?”

Dean falls silent, opening and closing his mouth as he goes red, his eyes looking almost feral. He looks like a cornered animal, something starved and needy, unsure if it should bite the hand reaching for it or grab it and never let go. 

You want to hold him and never let go. You want him to grab your hand, and hold it, and never think to drop it again. You want to hear him say those words again, and have his voice be certain. You want to touch him, no matter if he’s like this or breaking or furious or—in those rare, priceless moments—happy. And you need to know. Dean’s never owed you anything, and he never will, but if there’s only one thing that he can offer you in universe, it would be really nice if it was this. If Dean ever gives you anything, please, dear God, let it be this. 

“Dean,” you whisper, moving your hand to his knee and holding his almost fearful, rabid gaze. “Please answer me. Tell me what Sam-“

“He,” Dean swallows, voice gruff. “He wasn’t supposed to say anything. He fucking swore he’d never-“

“He didn’t.” You repeat, unsure if he’s even understanding the words out of your mouth. “All I’ve talked to Sam about is the spell. But why-“

“Rowena.” He mutters, and it sounds like he’s mostly talking to himself. “Rowena must’ve open her bitch mouth-“

“I haven’t really talked to Rowena at all-“

“Must’ve been some fucking spell-“

“Dean!” You scream, your nails digging into his leg like you can hold him with you forever. “It was you! You told me you loved me! You had a fever and you told me you loved me, you said my name, and I just,” Your voice cracks, desperation starting to break through your blood, out of your mouth in spit. “I need to know, please, you need to tell me if you meant it-“

“Sweetheart-“

“Please.” You refuse to look him in the eyes. The moment you look in Dean’s deep, pretty eyes you’ll know what he’s thinking, and you’ll lose him forever. Everything in you is screaming to know, but you’re still not able to just look into Dean’s eyes. “Dean, please tell me.”

“Why.”

For a second you’re not sure if you heard him right. The question startles you enough to make you look up, and the moment you see him something snaps inside of you. He looks wounded. Nervous. Almost as afraid of you—of your words, and what they might be capable of doing to him if you use them wrong—as you are of him.

“Why would you need to know.” He rasps, staring at his own hands. Flexing in his lap, seemingly against his will. “You’re not- It’s not somethin’ you’re-“ He looks up to you, his eyes almost pleading. “Why would you give a shit about-“

“About you?”

Dean’s throat bobs, his nod short, and you summon more bravery than you’ve ever been capable of before. Enough to reach out, over the space between your bodies that so small—but still feels like miles—and place your hand on his cheek. Keeping his gaze on yours.

“I always care about you. I-” You take a shaking breath, the last words falling off your tongue. “I love you.”

Dean’s hand shoots up to cover yours. To hold you against him, with a grip that tells you he might be trying to sear his skin into yours. 

“You-“ His voice is so soft. His hand over yours is like iron, but everything else about him seems to be dreamlike. Hazy and uncertain, both of you watching each other like you’re sure the other will vanish if you look away. “You love me?”

“Yeah,” you try to smile at him, and it’s not charismatic. It’s pleading and tragic and so fucking delicate. “I do. I mean, I have. For a while.”

“How-“

“Four years.“

He blinks at you. “No, I, I meant-“ He swallows, shaking his head. “I meant how. How did that happen.”

It’s your turn to frown at him. “How did that happen?”

“You shouldn’t love me.” He mutters, his hand over yours flexing. Like he’s trying to pull it away but doesn’t know how. “It’ll get you hurt.”

You raise your brows slightly, running your thumb over his cheek. “Are you going to hurt me?”

Dean’s eyes narrow. “That’s not what I-“

“Are you?”

“Of course not, I’d never-“

“Why?”

“It doesn’t matter why-“

“It does.” You whisper, folding your legs under you to rise on your knees, dropping your brow to his. Holding his gaze the whole time. “It matters to me, Dean.“

He makes a choked sound, but doesn’t move away. “Why?”

“Because I love you.” You whisper. “And it would be really cool if you loved me.”

Dean’s only staring at you, his eyes flicking between your own, slightly blurred gaze that can still see him so well, and your lips. 

“And it happened,” you push on, your voice growing a little weak when he still doesn’t respond. “Because it’s really easy to love you, Dean Winchester. You’re a good man.” You offer him a smile, and his own mouth falls open just a little. “And even if you don’t love me, I wouldn’t have you any other-“

Something in Dean’s eyes flickers, and he moves before you’re sure what’s happening. Yanking you into his lap with his hand—fingers now tangled in yours—catching you with an arm around your waist, and kissing you. 

Kissing you. Dean’s kissing you. 

Your body sparks into action—even as your brain becomes fogged with a hazy, Dean-shaped lust—and you fist a hand into his shirt, pulling him as close as the world will allow. He’s holding you so carefully, leaning down in a slight dip, and there could be a storm raging around you instead of the soft, romantic rain this feels like it belongs to, but you wouldn’t know. Because this is a kiss people wage wars over. 

It’s louder than music in your ears and electric in your blood, but sparks isn’t a strong enough word. It’s like lightning. Shooting through your spine and lighting up every nerve in your body to Dean. Soft lips molding perfectly into yours, warm and calloused hands skillfully mapping over your skin, a groan down your throat that you can feel settle in your lower gut and start a wildfire.  You’ve been hungry and you’ve never dared to eat, but Dean is here now and you’ll either be starved for the rest of your life or never want for anything again.

When Dean tries to pull away, you just follow him. Chase after his lips with yours, trying to get just a little more before this all comes tumbling down. Before the thought can even dare to cross Dean’s mind—that he’s not good for you, and he should go—because this is all you’ve ever wanted and you’ll be damned if you don’t cling to it for as long as he’ll allow. You’ll fall all the way down, until your body is only supported by Dean below you, and you’ll forsake oxygen until your body demands it. Maybe a little while after, too. 

And Dean doesn’t seem to care to let you go. Every time he tries to pull back it’s a jerked movement, and every time you collide again he grows more and more feral. His groans turn into deep, animalistic growls, and his touch on your skin becomes rough. Not painful, never painful, but urgent. Uncontrolled. Pulling at your skin like he’s trying to meld it into his, kissing you with bruising force, bucking up into you with his hard cock brushing your inner thighs. 

You grind down onto him once—when he hits closer to where you’re beginning to ache for him, and your own need grows stronger than you’re desire to let Dean control this—and he bites you. Dean catches your lip between his teeth, sucks in into his mouth, and grins like he’s won a prize when you whine a plea of his name.

“Holy shit,” he mutters your name, pressing his brow to yours as you both catch your breath, grabbing your waist to stop the next roll of your hips. “I’m not- I can’t do this to you-“

“You’re not doing anything to me,” you whisper. “I love you. I want this.”

Dean catches your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles and staring at the movement, his voice so low you almost don’t hear it. “Say you’re lying.”

You blink at him, and shake your head. “No.”

His eyes flash, shooting back to yours as he grunts your name. “You need to say you’re lyin’ right now, or I’ll-“

“You’ll what?” You lower your face back down, until you’re sharing Dean’s every breath. “Fuck me? Actually say you want me?”

His throat bobs, voice rough with lust. “You, I can’t fucking control it, sweetheart, if you’re fuckin’ with me you need to take it back now-“

“Dean.” You grab his face between your hand, forcing his darkened gaze back to yours. “Answer my fucking question.”

He shakes his head weakly. “You don’t-“

“I love you.” You hiss. You need to make sure he feels it, in the slightly spit on his face, that still tastes a little like him because it’s pushed through lips that are swollen from Dean, and Dean alone. You glide a hand down his chest, the kiss apparently fueling something bold inside you that hadn’t been there before. Your fingers trace down, over his abdomen—hardened from work but still soft in all the best places—and Dean takes in a sharp breath, his hands on your hips tightening enough to leave a mark, and you lean back. Just enough to open space between your bodies, just enough for you to palm him through his sweatpants.

He’s huge, and twitching under your careful, light fingers, and God, you need him inside of you in any fucking way—between your hands or filling your mouth or buried deep into your cunt—but Dean’s still just staring at you. His chest heaving, eyes so dark and wanting you might cum just from his attention, and nostrils flaring as you move your hand up, resting right over the hem of his pants. 

“I love you, Dean,��� you whisper, the rush of confidence barreling down as you wait for him to do anything. “And you need to tell me now that you don’t love me, or-“ you take a long breath, dragging up the last bit of your nerve. “You need to say you love me, and do something about it.”

Something shatters in Dean’s gaze for the last time, and whatever war he’s been waging with himself reaches a brutal end as he surges back up, kissing you with all spit and bloody need. Like you’re the best thing he’s ever dared to have on his tongue, and he might be trying to chew off a bit of you to keep.

He won’t need to. He has you. He’s had you for a while, and when he leans back to watch you with glazed, hungry eyes, his words seal some deep, fragile part of you to him forever.

“I love you,” Dean grunts your name, scanning over your face like he’s afraid the words will yank you from his hands. They won’t. “I need you. I gotta have you, but I’m- I’m not in control of it right now-“

“I can take it.” You push your hand into Dean’s sweats, taking his cock in your hand. He groans, eyelids fluttering, and when you run your thumb over the head of him—pressing into the weeping slit and squeezing just so lightly—he hisses your name like a prayer. “Please, Dean. I want it. Please.” 

You pull down his pants with your free hand, taking his boxers with them, and start to slowly pump your hand up and down his impressive length. There will be bruising marks of Dean’s hands of your hips for a while, but you’ll survive. It’s worth it, to watch him unravel below you, to see Dean’s pretty eyes grow glazed with lust for you, feel his dick throb and hips jerk under your touch, hear his low growls and grunts as his jaw clenches and he doesn’t pull you away.

“God,” he moans your name, and you start to squirm above him, desperate for a bit of your own relief. “I wanna- Wanna taste you. Fuck you. Ruin you-“

“So do it,” you slip your other hand down—trusting Dean’s hold to keep you upright—and squeeze his balls. “You say you love me, Dean, but you haven’t proved it-“

The words do exactly what you’d wanted them to. Dean yanks your hand from around him, crashes his lips into yours with a fervor that might have been dangerous if it didn’t taste and sound and feel like Dean, and lets go. 

His every movement is rough and uncontrolled, because his tether over every bit of will that had seemed to keep him restrained is gone, and in its wake is only the Mark. All its lust and fury and hunger, primal and focused on you. On taking what it wants.

And you’d give it to him, even if it left a few marks on your skin and bruising on your heart, but you realize that the Mark doesn’t seem to just want to use you. If it did, Dean wouldn’t be sucking on your neck and moaning at the taste of your skin, all while tracing big, warms hands around your body to palm your breasts. He wouldn’t allow you to grind onto him, or whimper his name, or scratch at his skin as he pulls you apart with barely anything at all. When he flips your over without any effort—only a low grunt and flex of his muscles—you feel like the most priceless bag of flour in the word. Perfect to be tossed around like that forever, but worth more to him—more the Mark—than just another body.

And you can’t see him anymore, but you don’t need to. You hear the sounds of him shuffling behind you, the muffled noise of his shirt being tossed onto the floor, and then his voice. Low and feral and saying your name in a way that makes your knees weak. 

“Up.” He grunts, and you whine when he angles your hips up and pulls down your shorts, you already wet cunt being hit by the cold air. “So fuckin’ pretty, gonna ruin you, baby. You’re never gonna even think about a cock that’s not mine again-“

You nod a little stupidly, wiggling your ass back into him and moaning when his still-clothed erection presses right into you. “Fuck, Dean, please-“

He spanks your pussy—just once the stinging pleasure shooing up your spine—and you bury your face in the sheets to stifles your desperate moan. 

“Need ya’ to listen.” He mutters. “You’re gonna have to talk to me, baby, lemme know what feels good, what you’re likin’, what you need more of-“

“You,” you gasp, and Dean chuckles, running a taunting finger between your folds. “God, I need you, Dean, need you so bad-“

“You need me?” He pushes the finger into your cunt, his body moving to covers yours as he whispers in your ear. “Need me to fuck this tight little pussy until you scream? Goddamn prove you how much I’ve wanted you, how much I’ve always wanted you-“

“Yes.” You nod frantically, grinding your ass up into him. “Show me, please show me-“

Dean moves your head to the side, capturing your lips in a long, slow kiss, and hums in satisfaction when he crooks that finger right up against that deep, sensitive spot inside of you, and your hands start to claw at the sheets.  

Then he’s gone. Without warning Dean draws back, yanks his finger out without warning, spanks your pussy again—chuckling at the high, needy sound that escapes your lips—and presses one hand to your lower back to still your writhing as he shuffles behind you

“Tell me whatcha want, baby.” He mutters, moving his hand to rub up and down your thigh. “And I’ll get it for ‘ya. But you have,“ He slaps your pussy one last time for emphasis, and you can only moan. “To say what you-“

“Your cock.” You whisper, spreading your legs wider for his to see. To look at your wet pussy—need dripping down to your knee—and take whatever the Mark is asking of him. “Want your cock Dean. Want you to fuck me, no holding back, please-“

He slams into you without warning. Burying himself at the hilt in one brutal movement, groaning above you as you go limp under him, trying only to twist and touch him, only to push back and somehow get him deeper. You feel so full, so fucking high on the stretch of Dean inside you, but it’s not enough-

“God, sweetheart, you feel so fucking good.” Dean starts to massage your ass, with one hand, the other holding you up in the air for him to use. “Better than I dreamed, feel like heaven, gonna fuck you so good like you deserve-“

“Dean, fuck-” you clench around him, the praise feeding right into your cockdrunk daze of Dean, and he groans. 

“Don’t do that,” he grunts your name, and it sounds like an order. “I ain’t gonna last if you-“ He moans as you squeeze around his massive cock again, and pulls all the way out before slamming back into you with a growl.

Your mouth falls open, a sound like a mewl escaping your mouth, and Dean starts to fuck you. Really, properly fuck you into the mattress, with low groans and an unforgiving pace, bumping your cervix and snaking a hand around your stomach to pull you up to his chest, rubbing your clit until you’re wrecked and seeing stars, thrusting up into you like a jackhammer and keeping you so blissfully pleasured and warm.

“So fuckin’ good,” he growls your name in your ear, and you squeak. “Takin’ this cock so fuckin’ well, all warm and tight, made for me. You were fuckin’ made for me-“

Dean’s thumb and fore finger roll your clit in a tight circle, and you cum with a scream. Light and color lining your vision, the far-off sound of Dean’s filthy praise making your orgasm ride out and out and out until you’re sure you’ve reached something like heaven. Your vision is still blurred when the satisfaction has washed fully through you, and you realize Dean’s stopped moving.

His hand tangles in your hair, angling your face back for him to see, and fuck he’s so handsome. Breathing heavy in your ear, lips puffed from sucking and kiss your skin, eyes glazed but still focused on you.

You must look like an idiot. Your expression is slack and needy, your eyes glazed a lips parted, but Dean looks at you like you’re a diamond and his cock twitches inside you as your eyes meet.

“Shit, baby,” he mutters. “You gotta say somethin’-“

“That-“ You let out another moan, your pussy still fluttering around him. “Good.”

He chuckles, kiss the very corner of your mouth with a smirk. “You got full words, Sweetheart?”

You swallow, the full feeling of Dean—throbbing inside you, still rock hard, pushing against that heavenly spot but with just too little pressure to send you over once more—crashing into you, and you say the only thing you can think of.

“Keep going?” 

He stares at you for a second, then shakes his head. “No, I- I’ll be fine, I can take care of myself-“

“Want you to use me.” You’re practically whining, and you’d be more embarrassed if the words didn’t make Dean jerk up into you. “Please-“

He groans your name, burying his face in the crook of your shoulder. “I’m not- you’re-“

“I said don’t hold back.” You whisper, rolling your hips against him and feeling pride glow in your chest at his moan. “Fuck me, Dean. I’m yours.”

And there it is again. You say the exact right thing, the thing you knew would work, and Dean gives in. He shoves you down, flips you onto your back—pulling out for only a second as he adjusts you under him—and starts to fuck you like an animal. Rutting into you at a near inhuman speed, hitting your cervix with every thrust, every word a low growl that coils release tighter and tighter in your lower gut. 

“So fuckin’ greedy,” he grunts, slamming a little rougher. “Wantin’ more, begging me to fuck you, so fucking pretty comin’ apart on my cock, tell me how good it feels, baby-“

“Good,” you moan, your nails digging into his shoulders as the bed creaks around you, your whole body overwhelmed with pleasure. “Feel so full, Dean, feels so good, you’re so fucking big-“

He groans, and you start to babble. You’re not even sure what you’re saying anymore, because every word feels like it’s spilling from your mouth. But every inch of your brain trapped in Dean’s skin slapping against yours, his muscles flexing around you, the low and primal sounds rumbling out of his chest as his movements grow sloppy and his cock starts to throb inside of you, and you couldn’t think about anything else if you tried.

“You feel so good, Dean, please don’t stop, want you to cum, I-“ You gasp as he starts to kill up your neck, your hands shooting into his hair. “Fuck, Dean, please, so good, God, I love you-“

His mouth slams into yours, and your orgasm rushes through you like a tidal wave. Longer and powerful, leaving you so fucked out you can only whine under Dean’s body, toes curling and eyes rolling back in your head as your pussy flutters around him.

Dean pulls out, keeping one hand gently on your knee as he pumps himself with an almost blurring fist, and cums over your abdomen and thighs. It’s hot and sticky, and part of you wishes you’d had enough of a brain to ask him to let you taste it, but you’re so completely spent that when Dean collapses over you—a heavy, comfortable weight you’re more than happy to be trapped beneath—your brain wipes every other thought but Dean away, and you decide to just stay here. Where Dean’s face in buried in your neck, and your sore from all of it but there will never be a better pain to experience.

“I-“ Dean breaks the silence, words muffled in your skin. “I feel better.”

“Oh.” You huff a soft laugh. “Good.”

“What, uh, what should we tell Sammy?”

You tug on his hair, just enough to move his gaze back to yours. “That we had sex?”

“No,” Dean groans your name, a smile pulling at his lips. “About the Mark. But we should tell him that-“

You make a mock, dramatic gasp. “Dean Winchester, are you going to brag about sex to your brother-“

“It’s sex with you, Sweetheart.” He winks, rolling you both over and caging you comfortably against his chest. “And Sammy’ll be thrilled to hear it, he’s been on my ass for years-“

“Years?” You squeak. “How many years?”

He shrugs. “I dunno, all of them?”

“All of them?! What do you mean all of them-“

“I mean since I met you.” Dean starts to rub soothing circles on your back, his mouth curling in smug amusement. “Deep breathes, baby, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

You flush, still not really use to the baby thing. Or Dean’s hands on your skin, every touch lingering like an imprint that will never even try to fade. “Shut up-“

He shakes his head. “Nah. You love it.” A boyish, wide smile splits over his face. “You love me.”

You might die. You might explode into a million, tiny pieces of confetti and shimmering glass, because Dean looks so happy. There are no ghosts in his beautiful eyes, no loathing or dread stained over his perfect face. He’s happy, here, with you, and you’re not cruel enough to stop yourself from crawling up his chest and pressing a soft, sweet kiss to his lips.

“I do love you,” you mumble against him, straddling his torso as you push yourself up flat palms. “But I’m still gonna tell you to shut up.”

He chuckles, the sound rolling and humming right into your blood. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Dean reaches up to tuck a little hair behind your ears, and freezes, his eyes trained on his forearm. On the Mark.

“We, uh,” he clears his throat, watching you carefully. “We do need to figure out what we’re gonna do about this.”

“Yeah.” You sigh. “We do. But I, I think-“

You cut yourself off, taking his hand in yours and running light fingers over the Mark in thought. Dean stares up at you with a slight awe in his gaze that makes you feel almost important, and your words fall to a soft breath.

“If you want.” You whisper. “We can turn it back-“

“No.” He shakes his head, sounding almost panicked. “I’m not goin’ back to that shit, not now-“

“Dean.” Your fingers still on his arm. “Was it me? That the Mark wanted?”

He swallows, but nods, and you sigh.

“We’re going to have separate sometimes. And we can figure out the bloodlust-“

“We should have to figure it out though, you don’t gotta put up with that-“

“I know.” You smile at him, and it’s not hard. Smiling at Dean is never hard. “But I will.”

“Do you-“ He stares at you, tangling his fingers in yours. “Do you not want me to keep the betterlust? You can tell me, I don’t want you to feel like you have to, for me-“

“God, no.” You shake your head, squeezing his hand. “I’m just, I’m worried about what might happen when the betterlust decides I’m not enough. Or when this, um, when you-“

Dean says your name, slow and firm, and you swallow. “This is it for me. It’s you, and the Mark knows that. You’re gonna be more than enough, hell, you’re more than I deserve-“

“That’s not true.” You mumble. “You deserve the world.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand. “It’s adorable that you really believe that, baby, but-“

You scowl at him. “It’s the truth, Dean. You’re a good man, I meant what I said-“

“I know you did.” His charming, cowboy grins falters slightly. Not falling, but twisting into one you’ve never seen before. Still roguish, still well designed and stealing your breath, but with a slight crack that allows you to see deeper. To see the lonely part of him, that really thinks you don’t belong here with him. That’s trying to drag you into him, because he’s certain you’ll start running if he doesn’t. “But this,” he nods to the Mark. “Is still gonna be a problem. I’m still gonna be a problem-“

“You’re not a problem-“

He says your name, the word careful and tender and holy from his lips. It’s the best way you’ve ever heard it. The only way you want to hear it again. “Do you want me to keep the betterlust.”

You purse your lips, and nod.

“Words, baby-“

“Yes.” You whisper. “But I need you to promise me that if it stops working-“

“It won’t.” He shrugs, his voice flat, as if he’s speaking in fact. “And we’re gonna keep looking for a way to get this son of a bitch off. But we’re doin’ it together.” He pauses, scanning over your open features. “If that’s what you-“

You lean down, silencing him with a long, easy kiss. It’s not desperate anymore, but careful. Like you’re making art, or starting to spin a web that could unravel with a single tug, but neither of you will let it. You’ll never let this—whatever this becomes—fall apart. You’ll put your whole life into keeping Dean, fighting for him and helping him and reminding him that he’s not really a burden. Letting him remind you that he really does want you, and he’s never going to allow you to doubt that again.

“Together.” You speak against his lips, letting your content breath fall into his mouth. “I’d like to stay together.”

He nods, mouth curving into a grin. “Alright then. Together.”

End Note: Thank you so so much for reading!!! I've had a lot of fun with this one, and I'm so happy y'all have as well! I hope to see some of you soon for the next one, and if not, thank you. no matter what!!

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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@tcedenslash

[hxlxnaaa]

can i pretty please have the extended version of what happens in zaynes exclusive tutorial……. asking for a friend……..

ⁱ ᵃᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ….

𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥

★ synopsis: an extended version of zaynes exclusive tutorial 5-star ;)

★ character: zayne

★ cw: first person pov, quickie SMUT!!!!, a lot of the dialogue is just taken from the card

★ word count: 3.5k

★ a/n: i literally have not wrote smut since i was at least 13...i lowkey blacked out writing this so if it sucks i'm so sorry. it was good practice though so ty for the request!

Internally, I was dreading this. As a Deepspace Hunter, low-key yet high end, relaxed events were not something I was accustomed to. While it was a nice change from the chaotic atmosphere of my own work, I couldn’t help but worry I may embarrass myself.

When Zayne first invited me, I was a bit surprised he’d ask me of all people. I was sure the man was convinced I’d, at some point during the night, make a fool of him and myself. Though I was pleased he thought of me, and honored to be chosen, it put the stakes of the night higher.

I tried to make myself as fancy as possible, without overdoing it, because I was convinced these people would know I was trying too hard. I mean, they were all top med school alumnus who probably made more in a day than I made in a year.

Walking in with Zayne, the club lighting was low with soft jazz playing in the background. I scanned the perimeter, and observed the people around. Nearly everyone had brought a companion, and I smirked to myself. Mentioning I could tell why he brought me along, I gestured for him to lean down to my level.

“Did you feel left out because everyone else brought someone? Is that why?”

Zayne looked back at me, “Yes. It’s why I invited you.”

“Lame… I thought you’d make up an excuse and deny it.

Bantering with him for a second, one of his classmates approached us. The two make small talk with each other, when the man finally introduces himself as Steven to me, reaching out for a handshake. Before I can even respond, Zayne quickly grabs my hand instead.

“Let’s find a place to sit down and talk.”

-

Sitting at the bar with Zayne and his classmates, I get to finally turn off my brain and just listen. All of them go on and boast about him, Steven particularly going on about his pool skills. Zayne sits comfortably with the attention, and it’s safe to assume he’s well accustomed to being the center of it all; though it didn’t last when I quickly caught his eye, as he gave me a helpless look.

“Do you want to go somewhere else?” He whispered to me, an edge to his voice that was practically begging me to get him out and away from these people.

Zayne grabs his drink, assuming I was going to agree, and I stop him. He gives me a confused look as I turn my body to fully face him. Deciding to have some fun, the drinks I’ve had giving me some liquid courage-

“I haven’t seen Dr. Zayne play pool either… Is he really that good?” I smiled at him.

He pauses, lips forming into a tight line, “Ah, so you’re ganging up on me.”

I was pushing the right buttons.

While another classmate comes up to Zayne, doting all over him like the others, as he goes on about “hands on learning” with him.

I smirk inwardly, taking a sip out of my wine glass. Oh yeah, I thought to myself, I’m gonna use that one.

After the man leaves, Zayne playfully pinches my ear, “I could see you eavesdropping from a mile away, did you find anything interesting?”

I looked up at him through my eyelashes, “I heard…” Pretending to think for a second, I looked around the room, then back at him, “you’re incredibly considerate to your juniors and are highly respected by everyone, Dr. Zayne”

He sighs, looking away, clearly unsatisfied with my answer. “I guess you can be nice…” I tapped his shoulder.

Zayne raises an eyebrow, “You guess? Do I not treat you well?”

Shrugging, I shake my head and raise my hands, feigning innocence, “It’s hard to say…” I take another sip out of my glass. “You never did any ‘hands-on’ learning with me.” Sticking out my lower lip in a pout, “And everyone says it’s an honor to be taught by you, sir…”

Putting down my wine glass, I sigh, “I wonder when I’ll get to experience it…”

“It seems you truly do want to learn about surgeries.” Zayne retorts.

“Who says it has to be for work?”

He looks at me, almost startled.

“Follow me.”

-

On the club's second floor, the billiard hall is tucked away, secret, and empty.

Perfect.

Walking forward, I circle around one of the pool tables.

“Why are we playing pool all of a sudden?” Zayne asks from behind me.

I flip my hair and look at him over my shoulder, “Because I wanna learn from you of course. Dr. Steven was praising your pool skills, but you’ve never mentioned them before.” I pushed my back to the table, leaning back on my hands.

Zayne walks up to me, “He was drunk and just rambling.”

“Oh? He said you were really good…” Cocking my head to the side to look at him, he stared back at me with intent, “Like a professional.”

“Maybe because a surgeon has steady hands.”

“Then-” I stood up straight again, crossing my arms and smiling sweetly, “it’d be nice if I could get some tips from you.”

“While I can’t give any tips per se, we can play.” He looks at me and smiles back, “If you want.”

Picking out two cue sticks, handing me the shorter one, he walks to one of the tables in the corner, “Have you played before?”

“Once or twice. People say I have potential,” Zayne raises a brow at my confidence, “but I ‘can play’.”

“Are you gonna be strict with me, sir?” I playfully swing around the cue stick. Zayne crosses his arms, leaning into me, “Strict teachers make outstanding students.” He states, “Let’s start.”

Gesturing for me to go, I lean over the table, feeling his eyes boring into me. I hold my breath as I hit the ball, the only sound in the room the echoes of the balls scattering.

Zayne chuckles under his breath, and I look back at him, “Did I do something wrong, sir?”

“You have more than enough strength. If you adjust your posture, you’ll see better results.”

“I need you to help me identify my weak spots via ‘hands-on learning’, sir.”

I watch as his facade begins to crumble a bit, before he quickly regains himself, “We’ll have to work on your posture then.”

Coming up next to me, I stand up straight as he leans down over the table, “Like this. Place your right foot back…” He strikes, graceful as ever. When I try, I look like a klutz.

Bent over the table, he comes up behind me. “Relax,” He whispers, “you’re too tense.” He places his hand on my back, and almost as a reflex to his touch, my waist immediately bends. “Now you’re too relaxed.” He clicks his tongue as I become jelly under his touch.

“Relax your left arm. Allow it to bend naturally.” His arm snakes up under mine, “Your head, right arm, and the cue stick should form a straight line.”

He places his hand softly on my cheek, shifting my head to the left, “How is it?”

“It,” I winced at the uncomfortable position, “hurts a little.”

I hear him smile, “That means it’s correct.”

Making a face, I try to give him my most pitiful look.

“You’re so harsh, sir.”

He grabs my chin, making me face the table again. The gesture makes me gasp.

“Don’t tilt your head.” Zayne remarks, “You messed up your posture again.”

“Is there an easier way? Like something I can do without much trouble?”

“Yes, but are you sure you want to do it?”

I groan, my body feeling stiff from holding this pose for so long, “Bring it on.”

I feel him shift from beside me, “Don’t move for now.”

Zayne comes up behind me, positioning himself where his chest is flush against my back. Reaching his arms around me, one of his hands comes up to grab mine. Lowering his head, I feel his breath on my neck as his lips settle next to my ear, “Your rhythm with the cue stick…isn’t quite there yet.” My eyelids flutter closed at his voice, “You need more hands-on training.”

He directs me carefully, “You should neither be too fast nor too hesitant.” His words sound distant as all I can focus on is the feeling of his body pressed against mine, as heat spreads in between my thighs.

My hand is enveloped in his, and the back and forth motion of the cue stick slows down, “Move the cue stick three or four times..” He instructs, everything about this feeling overwhelmingly provocative, “Stop at the point closest to the ball…”

“Did you get that?” He whispered, turning his head away from the pool table to face mine.

“Yeah…” Was all I could muster back.

Softly smirking, he turned back to follow my vision, “Keep your eyes on the ball, one…two…three…” I think I may actually combust if he keeps this up.

“Stop, and pull back the cue stick.”

He loosens his grip on me, “Snap out of it. Are you even listening to me?”

No, not really Zayne. I can really only focus on not grinding back into you right now.

“Ah yes,” I cough, “Pull back the stick…”

“Very good, just like that…” I bite back a whimper and the urge to rub my legs together at his praise, he knows good and well what he’s doing.

“Now…strike.”

I hit the ball, and when it goes in I snap out of whatever hypnotic haze I was in.

“It’s in!”

Zayne pulls back, and I stand up straight, placing my hands on my hips. “Did you see that? It was a great shot! I’m so cool…” Flipping my hair over my shoulder, I flash him a smile.

“I did.” He smiles warmly back, “You’re not a total beginner.”

“Maybe it’s because I practice shooting all the time. Or, it’s possible I’m a prodigy…” I started regaining my confidence after it had ever so slowly faltered on the pool table.

“Perhaps.” Zayne shrugs, “To be honest, all you need to be good at pool is…”

He leans over the edge of the table, looking over at me. My breath hitches at the sight.

“A steady hand, precision, and a calm attitude.” His eyes bore into mine, “Once you’ve locked into your target, don’t let go.”

I swallowed. Even though he was clearly talking about the ball, it felt oddly personal.

He has me play a bit more, teaching me as I go. I easily earn his praises and they ring like music in my ears.

“If a student does a good job,” I remind him, “shouldn’t they get a reward?”

He considers it for a second, “What do you want?”

Confidence bubbling up again inside of me, I sigh dramatically. “Well, it might be difficult to hit this next ball. Help me.”

“Is that all?” Zayne asks, clearly not convinced. Pausing before coming to help me, I give him a smug look, “What’s wrong Dr. Zayne? Are you scared?”

I was pushing my luck, and loving every second of it.

He frowned, “Provocation doesn’t work on me.”

“Then come here.” I nodded toward the pool table, giving him a sweet smile.

Zayne inches towards me, only moving slightly closer.

“Closer.” I demand, “Or else I can’t reach it.”

He gives me a confused look, “What exactly…”

I grab him by the collar, pushing him back onto the table. Zaynes cheeks turn pink as he stares up at me with a shocked expression. Lips slightly agape, I can see a million thoughts running behind his eyes. The dumbfounded look on his face makes me want to take him on the table right now.

“Look,” I pout, “the ball’s so far away. I think it’s time to use a cue rest.”

I tap the cue stick on each side of his head. Zayne narrows his eyes at me, “Using cue rests would be overkill.” He sits up, and I use the stick to slowly tug out his tie, “And this,” he glares, “is inappropriate.”

Though he feigns annoyance, the look in his eyes is a dead giveaway.

“But…” I pull the stick away leaning towards him, my breath dusting his ear, “I think you’re enjoying it…” He looks down and away at the table, clearly embarrassed, “I shouldn't have taught you so much” he mutters.

Running my fingers through his dark hair, I slowly tease my hand down his body, caressing his face, down to his chest, down to where I see where he’s aching for me to touch the most. I coo at him when I see the desperate look in his eyes, and quickly snap my hand away before I reach the bulge growing in his nice slacks.

Zaynes face is red hot as he sits up on the table enough that he’s eye level with me, “Who taught you to use your teacher as a cue rest…” he frowns.

“Well,” I place my hand on his chest over his heart, “this cue rests heartbeat is going to ruin my accuracy.” I tut.

“Is it my heartbeat affecting your accuracy, or yours?” His hand comes up to caress my cheek, “If you actually want to learn, I can show you another way…”

Zayne leans in, lips almost to mine before I grab his shoulder and push him back. He looks at me, wide eyed at the denial.

“Sir, this seems to be lacking professionalism.” Crossing my arms across my chest, his lips curve at my attempt to scold him.

“Weren’t you just using me as a cue rest?” He leans back in, “Talking about professionalism… is a bit too late.”

As he grabs me by my waist, I push him back onto the table again as a reply. The gesture only lasts a few seconds before Zayne smiles at me, quickly sitting up and using his hand around my waist to reverse us; flipping me onto my back and onto the table, he settled in between my legs. I squeak at the sudden change, as he now hovers over me, my head caged between his arms.

“Why don’t you let me show you…” Zayne pulls back, standing up straight. He grabs his cue stick, “Watch closely, I’m only going to do it once.”

Pushing his chest against mine, he goes for the ball right behind my head. His head hovers right above my face, and I lean up to place a kiss on his adams apple right as he strikes the ball. I have half a mind to bite into his neck, but he quickly stands back up as he watches the ball go in.

He looks down at me, and I’m sure I look utterly disheveled. From where he stood in between my thighs, my dress had ridden up high enough that every inch of my bottom half was almost on display for him to see. My hair was splayed out around me on the table, and my chest heaved with the breath I was so desperately trying to catch.

The sexual tension that had slowly built up throughout the night was now thick enough to cut with a knife. Smiling softly, Zayne tilts my chin up, caressing my jaw as his thumb slowly parted my lips, dipping it past my teeth and pressing it against my tongue. “Pretty little mouth…” he mutters, staring at the way his finger sits in between my lips. I look up at him through half-lidded eyes, sucking down on his thumb.

He frowns, “Always such a tease.” Zayne sighs, picking up my ankle, pressing a kiss to it. I craved his lips on mine, but I always enjoyed the shows he’d put on for me. He continued to kiss up my calf, closing his eyes as he felt my skin against his lips.

“Zayne.” I demanded, and he looked at me annoyed, as if I was interrupting something.

“Yes?”

“Kiss me…”

He leaned down, nose brushing against mine, but not meeting my lips. I pushed myself up, trying to connect us, but he pulled away at the last second. Frustrated and tired of his games, I grabbed Zayne by his tie, crashing my lips against his, pulling him down on top of me onto the table.

“Behave.” He groaned as I took his bottom lip in my teeth, tugging softly. Grabbing my wrists with his hand, he pinned them above my head. Zayne’s free hand roamed up my thigh, fingers dusting over the place I was praying for him to touch the most.

I squirmed under him as he toyed with the lace on my panties, never dipping his fingers past. His grip on my wrists tightened, lips leaving mine so our eyes could meet. Waves of lust crashed in his green eyes.

“What do you want?” His lips kissed down my neck and chest.

“You to touch me.” I whimpered.

He tsked, “Beg.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You heard me. Or do I need to teach you how to do that too?” Zayne nipped at my collarbone, then kissed the skin.

“Please…”

“What was that?”

“Please, Zayne.” Everytime I said please, his fingers inched closer to the arousal pooling in between my thighs, “Zayne, please, please, fuck, please.”

I felt him smile against my skin, and he dipped a finger inside of me.

Clenching around him, I moaned at the satisfaction.

Zayne groaned, “God, you’re so wet. You’ve been eager all night…” Pumping in and out, I stifled my whimpers and moans against his shoulder. He let go of my wrists, and my hands flew to his collar, gripping for dear life as he added another finger.

Tracing his thumb on my clit, two fingers curling up inside of me, Zayne always knew just how to make me come undone. He could get off on this alone, watching me fall apart underneath him by just his hands. I was seeing stars, thinking nothing could get better than this.

Zayne pulled away, and I cried out at the emptiness. He stood there for a second, just taking all of me in, “You’re so beautiful.” He took off his tie, gently grabbing me by the back of my head and lifting it up so he could tie the fabric around my mouth as a makeshift gag.

“As much as I love to listen to you, I don’t want anybody else to hear. Is that all right?”

I nodded at him and he smiled, petting my cheek, “Good girl.”

Reaching forward, I palmed his hard on through his nice, business slacks. The idea of them being around his ankles as he takes me on this table was enough to almost make me cry from joy. Sighing at the friction, Zaynes eyes fluttered closed, and I worked my hand up and undid his belt. Getting too eager, he freed himself, and slid my panties down to where they loosely dangled off one of my heels.

“I wish I could take my time with you,” He pressed his tip against my opening, “but this will have to do.” Sinking all the way down to the hilt, I choked out a muffled scream, squeezing my eyes shut as the tie killed my lewd noises.

Zayne grabbed my chin, fingers digging into my skin, “Eyes open.” He demanded, pulling out, and slamming back in, “Keep looking.”

Already overwhelmed from the stimulation he provided earlier, tears welled up in my eyes from just how good all of it felt. The impossibly delicious way he could fill me up, lips dancing across my skin as he chased after his own pleasure. His hand gripping into my hips, most likely leaving bruises, as he drilled into me; kissing my palm before biting into the skin to muffle his own groans.

Zayne’s skin glistened with sweat, the top buttons of his shirt undone, his lips red and swollen from my aggressions. He railed into me like a maniac, like he was fucking starving. Gracefully, his hand found its way back in between my thighs, finding the bundle of pleasure that made me cry out. At the feeling I blinked out tears, my eyes burning from the mascara I was practically sobbing away. I was moments away from ruining this table beneath me, and Zayne knew that.

He grabbed my neck, almost as if for stability as he picked up his pace. Desperately rolling his hips against mine, I clenched down around him “Just.. like that, oh... God." He moaned. I lifted my hips up to meet his thrusts, trying to chase my own release and his. Zayne looked me in the eyes, squeezing the hand around my neck, “My girl. Mine.” He groaned.

With one last thrust and his praise, I was screaming behind the tie, shaking from my release beneath him. Digging my nails into his biceps, his hips stuttered, and with a moan he pulled out, finishing all over my nice dress.

Zayne nearly collapsed on top of me as we laid there for a while, just soaking in the aftermath. As he pulled away, I watched him cringe at the mess he had left on me. For some reason, I started laughing.

“What’s that for?” He questioned.

I continued to giggle, “I didn’t know you were that good at pool…”

“If we had more time, I’d show you more of my techniques…”

Slapping him on the shoulder, I sat up, and he swept me off the table and back onto my feet. Brushing my hair with his fingers, he attempted to wipe away the mascara stains on my cheeks. “I know the back way out of here,” He pressed a kiss to my temple.

(divider by cafekitsune)

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

First Last Christmas

Word Count - 17.3k

Summary - Jack is starting to think this isn't his best idea, and Idris is starting to maybe regret her choice. Maybe agreeing so quickly to spend the holidays with her baby daddy who she broke up with 3 months isn't the best idea.

Warnings - none. just some family drama but who doesn't have family drama during the hoildays.

Author's Note: It is finally complete. Thank you for everyone who reads this AU and has been excited for this to come out. Thank you Allie for being my beta reader for a good 75 percent of this fic even though she's on vacation. 🫶🏻🫶🏻 This is the longest fic I have ever written so be kind. Consider this my Christmas present from me to you even if it's a little past midnight. 😂

Till Forever Falls Apart Masterlist

Roughly 2 weeks before Christmas…

Idris could physically feel her hand shaking as she rode up the elevator to her old condo - now known as only Jack’s and Luke’s - and it wasn’t anxiety that also made her cheeks feel flushed, it was anger. Idris was so angry with Jack that she could feel her jaw starting to hurt from how tight she clenched her teeth. She looked down at her phone to see if he thought to answer any of her messages about Christmas only to see a text from him asking her to text him when she was leaving her place with the kids. She found herself shaking her head in disbelief as she exited the elevator making the sharp right turn to walk down the hall to knock on her - she still couldn’t bring herself to think of Jack as anything other than Jack, the word ex made her stomach turn and she couldn’t call him her fiance anymore, she could say baby daddy but that only described the relation he had to their children not the impact he had on her, her heart, her life, so he was just - Jack. 

Taking a deep breath she stood in front of apartment 725, trying to make herself calm down even just a little before she faced him, she knocked heavily on the door. Jack answered almost immediately, it’s expected he was expecting her to drop the kids off to him on his day off. But the kids are still over at her little cozy apartment spending time with their Uncle Luke and Uncle Nico, because she needed time to talk to Jack about how he’s been avoiding all of her calls and texts about Christmas. 

“Hey guy-” He didn’t finish his greeting that was meant for his children and his smile dropped as his eyebrows frowned ever so slightly when he realized the kids weren’t with her. Idris isn’t sure if it was a conscious act or not, as he slightly boxed himself into the doorway more as if to not let her into his space. Even if it was a place that she decorated herself with him years ago, before Luke even joined the NHL and lived with them, before they ever even fell into their friends with benefits situation, back when Jack was just her guy best friend who she just so happened to meet due to a one night stand. Back when he was 19 and just got his first apartment and Jill was still stocking his fridge when he was due to come back from long roadies. “Where are the kids?” he sighed as he questioned her, as if he didn't have time for whatever she was planning. ‘Too bad’ Idris thought to herself, ‘Christmas is two weeks away and we have two children who believe in Santa. Time to act like an adult.’ 

“At my place with Luke and Nico. I needed to talk to you and I didn’t want listenin’ ears.” she explained, but she didn’t miss the way that Jack crossed his arms and looked annoyed. 

“So that’s why Luke was up so early this morning. Course he just had to run off to help you.” he snapped bitterly and Idris was finding it hard not to yell at him. ‘This is about the kids. Christmas. Kids. Christmas.’ she kept repeating to herself trying to get herself not to be roped into another useless fight with the man in front of her. 

“Jack, we both know he’s not doing it for me. He’s doing it because he loves his niece and nephew.” Idris tried reasoning with him. “But that’s not why I came here. Can you let me in? I really don’t want to do this in the hall.” Jack flashed an unreadable expression on his face, something unmistakingly softer than earlier, almost looking like the old Jack for a millisecond and then it was gone as quick as it came, as he stepped aside giving Idris room to step into the apartment. 

Idris couldn’t stop herself from word vomiting as she noticed that no decorations were out for Christmas, not even the children’s stockings were hung. “Where is the tree?” she asks as she slips her scarf and gloves, gently placing them in her coat pocket as she places it on the back of the chair, her heeled booties already off by the door looking like they never left beside her children’s and Jack’s array of shoes. 

“Didn’t feel like decorating.” he mumbled as he walked past her and sat down on the coach in the living room. “What do you want, Idris?” he asks as he picks back up his controller, Idris was fully prepared to scream thinking he was going to resume his game but was surprised and maybe even a little grateful when she realized he was just turning it off. 

“Well even if you don’t you “feel like it.” Zander is old enough to notice Jack.” she tries to speak softly, so it doesn’t come off as judgmental as she wants to be. Although her words still have a sharpness to them. “We need to talk about Christmas. You haven’t answered a single of the hundreds of texts I’ve sent trying to plan with you.” Idris adds, as she is reminded of the reason she came over in the first place, ‘the kids. Christmas.’ 

“Well maybe I didn’t feel like decorating this year.” he snaps, it isn’t harsh, kind of like how he snaps at the media when they repeat a question or ask something that isn’t logical, like the time they said ‘Quinn was like a brother to Jack.’ when he is in fact Jack’s older brother. But still, even if it wasn’t harsh, a little over a year ago, he would never even think to give her attitude when she’s just trying to be a good mom to their kids. “Also I liked the message Iddy. I got the toy alright.” he huffs, and it takes everything in Idris not to scream at the man sitting in front of her, manspreading, arms crossed, as if she is wasting his time.

“That’s not the point and you know it. Cool you got a toy off the internet congrats on doing the absolute bare minimum. For god sakes you haven’t even decorated Jack! Christmas is literally 2 weeks away! What the hell! I thought we agreed that the kids' happiness came first! And that includes Christmas. Do you think I wanted to decorate by my fucking self this year! No. Do you think I want to be standing here begging for you to look at me so we can talk about where our children are spending Christmas! No. I much rather be curled in bed with Luna doing nothing but here I am. Here I am! I am trying to co-parent with you! But how can I when you don’t answer any of my texts or calls trying to talk about what we're gonna do!” Idris yells, she doesn’t feel better, she feels like shit, she always does when she’s fighting with Jack, as if he is a vacuum that sucks all the energy out of her. She’s also close to tears, but Idris has always been one of those people that cry when she’s so angry she can barely think coherently. She looks at Jack from across the room and waits, waits for him to care enough to answer her. 

“I’m off for Christmas break, I thought the answer was obvious. I’m taking ‘em home to the lakehouse.” Whether it’s because Jack is speaking softly or the drumming in Idris’ ears is too loud from the anger she feels, she looks at him with disbelief. 

“What?” she breaths out. 

“Imma take ‘em home, Idris. You had them for Thanksgiving. It’s only fair I have them for Christmas.” Jack is standing now as if he’s preparing for a fight with her, but she can’t bring herself to fight, her body is in shock. Jack might have been an asshole and maybe that’s why she left, but he was never cruel and taking her children away from her on Christmas was cruel. 

“I took them to Ann Arbour for the long weekend to spend time with my family. I drove to the lakehouse 2 ½ hours away both ways so they could see their Uncle Quinn, your brother Jack. Then not even 30 hours later, I made the drive again so they could see you and Luke on Sunday. And spend time with you on the day you were free from hockey. Then I drove home alone” her voice cracked, she wished it hadn’t but it did and a dam of tears started streaming down her face like a hurricane banging on a screen door in the summer night. Suddenly Jack’s stomach started to hurt and his socks looked much more interesting than Iddy’s face.  “I drove home alone. Crying because of you! Because your words you had with me about not being there sooner with them! About how I was trying to ruin the holidays. So no.” Idris took a deep breath using her hands to speak as she made air quotes as she spoke “ I didn’t ‘get them for thanksgiving’ I shared them with you, and your family even if you weren’t there. I tried to be fair, and mind you I did it without talking to you because you refused to just like you are now. I know that you hate me for leaving, and I can live with that. But what I can’t live with is battling against me every goddamn fucking day because you’re not adult enough to have a fucking conversation about what’s best the kids. Because you know who you’re hurting when you do that Jack?” she asks him and Jack glances up from his feet feeling like he’s being scolded by his mother, deciding that it was probably a rhetorical question. “You might think it’s me, but it’s our kids. Zander doesn't understand why his mama and daddy live apart now. Zola who adores her father and who still is her favorite person, and she might be little but she isn’t stupid, she can feel the tension when we’re in the same room. If you want to spend your Christmas break at home fine but I am not spending Christmas without my kids.” Idris’ feels a migraine starting to brew with the amount of stress she is having, as she glances at the family room clock and realizes she’s been here for 10 minutes and nothing productive has been done. She runs her hands through her hair, its shorter now since she cut it, shaking it out and pulling at it,  as if pulling on her scalp will lessen the stress.

“So you wanna stay here?” the confusion is clear in his voice, she doesn’t have to look at him to know that. 

“No.” She exhales, looking up making eye-contact with him, his blue eyes boring into hers, it doesn’t matter the history when he looks at her at that all dumbfounded and confused like only she can bring him out of it, it makes her knees go weak. “We’re always home for Christmas. It’s just harder now.” 

“Because you left.” He mumbles to himself. 

“Actually not what I was thinking, more like Zander believes in Santa and all gifts for everyone and the kids have been shipped here. And how are we gonna get all the kids gifts in 2 checked bags, plus their strollers, and diapers and everything else they need for traveling. Let alone the fact we have Apollo and Luna now, and checking them into the animal hotel was fine for Thanksgiving but the kiddos missed them and cried about it all week.” 

The more Idris talks, the more it’s obvious how much thought she has actually put into this, and Jack feels guilty for causing her so much anxiety knowing that if he just wasn’t so stubborn they could have figured this out around Thanksgiving and not waited till 2 weeks before. Plus, if Jack was being honest with himself, he would have procrastinated even longer having this conversation with Iddy if she didn’t just show up on his doorstep and force him to talk. He was still so mad at her for leaving, he knew they were in a bad place, but he didn’t know it was that bad. Idris settles on the couch opposite of Jack and puts her hands on her head, leaning forward resting her elbows on her knees and Jack flinches; she only does that when she’s starting to get a migraine which she only gets because of stress. Stress that Jack caused and that doesn’t sit right with him. 

Jack's mouth slightly twitches, his palms getting slightly sweaty as he squeezes his knees with them and fights internally with himself. If this was even 10 weeks ago, he would walk over to her and hold her and tell her everything was gonna be okay. But that was before, and even though he knew he was only lying to himself to make himself feel better, he hasn’t done that in almost a year, holding her when she got too stressed out. Most of the time he just blamed her for working too much, or putting herself in the position she was in. “Fuck it” he mumbles to himself as he gets up and goes in front of Iddy, sitting on his knees as softly calls her name grabbing her hands as they are in little balls now and he knows she’s using her nails to put pressure on them, sighing when he sees all the little bright red  half moon imprints. “Idz.” he whispers, a nickname only he uses, he hasn’t used it in months but he hopes it helps bring her out of her head and back to him.

 “Idz, I’m sorry,” he speaks softly, and he grins when she finally looks at him. “You’re right I haven’t been good at communicating when it comes to the kids and it is selfish of me. And I knew it was stressing you out and I didn’t care. I’m sorry Idz.” His hand twitched in hers, he wanted to bring her palms up to his lips and softly kiss each mark she inflicted on herself but he didn’t wanna push it. She was letting him hold her hand, after he was a dick for weeks to her, simply for choosing herself. He settled on rubbing small circles with his thumbs into her hands. “Comeon’ Idz let’s look at a calendar ya?” He asks he still won’t speak above a whisper, he doesn’t want to shout anymore, he’s tired and he wants to finish planning so he can go pick up his kids and play with them before he has to drop them back off at Iddys because he has a 6 am morning skate time tomorrow due to being a game day. 

“Why that still doesn’t answer the question of where?” She squeaks out, and his heart hurts that she doesn’t get that they can go to Michigan and be home. 

“Iddy we’ve always gone home and that doesn’t have to change okay? I’ll drive up with all the presents if I have to alright?” 

“What about Apollo and Luna, you know she doesn’t like car rides or the plane but I don’t wanna leave her.” Jack resists the urge to take his thumb and pull at her bottom lip she’s chewing on, he hates when she chews on her lip as cute as it might look, because she never stops until it chewed raw, usually bleeding. 

“We can take Luna to the vet to get medicine to help with the car ride alright? And I can take them in the car. okay?” He’s not really asking if he can take them more if she has any questions about his plan so far. 

“Okay but where in Michigan.” 

“At home Idz.” He doesn’t have to say it, she knows there are only two places he calls home in Michigan, his moms and dads house he spent a few teenage years in, and the lakehouse he owned with Quinn. They have always hosted Christmas at the lakehouse for as long as they’ve owned it. 

“That doesn’t answer where I will stay? I don’t want to be away from the kids when they wake up on Christmas Day. This is the first year Zander is starting to understand the concept of Santa, I don’t wanna miss his face when he sees all the presents under the tree and all the cookies he laid out gone.” 

Jack chuckles, not because of her reasoning but because he can see Zander screaming his head off Christmas morning. It takes everything in him not to let his pet name for her slip, his heart aches, its moments like this he wishes they were still together, but if they were together they wouldn’t be debating where to spend Christmas. “You can stay at the house, Iddy, it’s as much yours as it is mine or Quinn’s. I mean you were there when we picked it out, there when we signed for it, definitely was the one in charge of furnishing it.” 

She made a face as she asked “isn’t that weird?” 

“Who cares if it’s weird? When have we ever been normal?” he chuckles trying to break the tension that was still left in the air. 

“What most people don’t have two kids with a one night stand?” Iddy asks sarcastically and they both laugh, the mood finally lightening up for the first time since she arrived. 

So it was settled Idris would be spending Christmas week at the lakehouse, she would fly in with the kids the Friday before Christmas out of Newark airport where Jack dropped them off. She will first drive to her parents and spend the night hanging out there so they can see their grandchildren they don’t see enough of. Idris and the kiddos will spend the night at her sister's little townhouse, because she didn’t think she would want to drive the 2 ½ hours to the lakehouse that late. If she was by herself she wouldn’t care, but she really tried hard to keep the kids on their routine when they were with her and that included bathed and in bed by 7. The next day they’ll drive up to the lake house where they will spend a few days alone before Jack arrives Monday night with Apollo and Luna with him. Luke and the rest of the family already decided not to arrive until Christmas Eve, Luke even brought his plane ticket already and they will spend Christmas together. It seemed simple enough, what could go wrong? At least they had a plan now. 

After talking everything out, Idris felt much better, they even talked about the kids' gifts and who was getting what, what was Santa’s and what was from them. They both agreed the kids were too little and it was too petty to separate the gifts they gave their children ‘from daddy’ or ‘from mama.’ Everything that wasn’t Santa came from them as a unit, even if they didn’t work together all that well.

“Wait.” she gasps as Jack starts to stand, but if Idris says wait he will, even if his body is in an awkward position half standing, half bent over. Jack can’t help but think that this position probably isn’t good for his shoulder since he’s putting all his weight on it. But he didn’t care, if it earned him brownie points with Idris. She softly pulled him down to the position he was before and he was grateful he didn’t have to feel the tension in his shoulder anymore. “I don’t want to get to the house 3 days before Christmas and have to decorate yet another house for Christmas.” Usually they decorated together the weekend after Thanksgiving. If they were up there, his mom would always come and help Iddy since Jack never had much time in the mist of the season. But at least that way they never had to stress over it when they were only up there for Christmas break for a few days. 

“Why don’t I ask my mom for help?” he asks, normally he would just tell her he was going to ask his mom. But now with the separation, everything felt off on its axis like he needed permission before he offered a solution. She didn’t reject it right away so Jack took it as an invitation to keep going, “she loves decorating for Christmas Idz, I’m sure her and dad can run up and put the tree together and everything before you and the kids get there.” 

“That’s a lot to ask of them.” She’s biting her lip again and Jack bites his as a response, ‘please stop baby, you're gonna make yourself bleed.’ But it’s not his place anymore to say that even if it makes him sick watching her do it and not saying anything. 

Jack sighs, he knows they wouldn’t mind, they would be happy to help. But he also knows the way Iddy grew up wasn’t the way he did, and every favor even if it was a family member came at a price to her. Jack, no matter how hard he tried over the years could never get that out of her head. “You know they would do anything for you.” He says as he looks into her eyes, grateful she’s finally making eye-contact with him. He could have said ‘for the kids’ or ‘for me’ but he knew it held more weight if he said the truth. Decorating was going to ease Iddys to-do list, not his and the kids honestly probably wouldn’t care they are still so little. But it matters to Idris for some reason to make this Christmas perfect, so he was gonna try his damn hardest to help her. She nods a ‘okay’ and Jack smiles, probably for the first time in days except after he scored a goal last night and had a celly on the ice.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Friday December 20,2024

It should be easy enough, flying with the kids by herself. Idris didn’t think it would be difficult, it’s not the first time either of them have been on a plane. She has flown with both of them with Jack plenty of times, even all the way to Vancouver once to visit Quinn. She even flew without him with the kids over Thanksgiving and that is the busiest time of year to travel. Thankfully, she didn’t have to lug too much around just enough stuff for them for night and a few winter items for the kids that she knew weren't in the lakehouse due to their fast growing bodies. It was fine in the beginning, Zander was in that phase where he loved being a helper, but it made a turn for the worse quickly. Jack had decided that he didn’t want to just drop them at the door, but help her check in, even though she had carried even more by herself less than a month ago. But she didn’t want to bicker when he was trying to be nice. Zander wanted to help so Jack let him ‘push’ one of the suitcases, really Jack was pushing it with his foot, sometimes grabbing it to steer. Zander didn’t seem to notice, focused on the task at hand, pushing the suitcase across the parking garage floor. It was cute how happy her son was at his father’s compliments. “Good job Z. Keep going buddy.” Idris was busy wearing the diaper backpack bag, holding Zola, and the carrier in her other hand that she decided she didn’t need to wear yet. She was pushing her carry-on suitcase with her hand following behind Jack who had both car seats (because all though it isn’t a rule, Idris will be damned if her kids aren’t secure 35,000 feet in the air.) 

At one point Zander got distracted by the sound of a car coming down the ramp, it was a loud high pitch sound, he never did like loud sounds, he jumped he would have hit his hand on the handle of the suitcase if Jack’s hand wasn’t there. “I scared.” Zander mumbled, as he looked up at his dad and decided to hang on to his leg. Idris could tell that he was pulling at Jack, trying to get him to open his legs more so Zander could attempt to hide himself in them. The car skeeted past them and it took everything in Jack not to yell at them for being an asshole and scaring his kid. “Daddy?” Zander whined, and it hurt him. He hated seeing his kids upset even if it was something as simple as getting spooked by a loud sound. He could hear Idris behind him, trying to calm a fussy Zola who also didn’t appreciate the unexpected noise. 

Jack squatted to the ground to be eye-level with his son, gently putting each car seat down, using his knee to keep the giant suitcase from rolling away. Zander didn’t wait to be comforted, he jumped into his arms and Jack embraced him cooing in his ear that it was alright. Idris was suddenly grateful that Jack insisted on dropping them off three hours ahead of time instead of the normal two, because they haven’t even made it out of the parking garage and they’ve been here almost 20 minutes. Zander wanted his mom to carry him once he was calm and as much as she wanted to explain she couldn’t, she didn’t. Instead she handed Zola to Jack and stripped herself of the backpack and her winter coat momentarily to put to strap her carrier on. Then she put back on her winter coat, grabbed Zola and set her inside. Then gently, bending down she put the backpack on and picked Zander up and balanced him on her hip. Jack stared at her, as if this was the hottest thing she had ever done in front of him. He knew no one else probably found it attractive, but watching Idris be a mom always made the pit of his stomach warm, at least he wasn’t sporting a semi in public due to his baby-mama he wasn’t even with he thought to himself. 

“Ready?” she breathes out. Jack knows it’s directed at her, but his throat feels dry with where his mind was going as he was watching her, so he just nods. Picking up both bulky car seats, he tries to push the carry-on suitcase with his leg which he is successful. But he can’t really steer as well as he thought he could. ‘Maybe it was good Zander was helping him’ he thought to himself. “J I got it.” grabbing the suitcase and rolling it on her side, Jack wasn’t sure how she was able to push both suitcases, and hold both kids. 

Somehow it was smooth sailing from there, Jack stayed until Idris was done checking in, bags checked. The bag she was originally going to use as a carry-on she decided to check because she didn’t want to lug another thing around if she didn’t have to. Zander decided he could stand now and wanted to be a helper so Idris let him hold her phone. He was honestly too little to carry a car-seat or wear the diaper bag, and although he has carried Zola before it wasn’t for long distances, they are practically the same size after all. 

Saying goodbye to Jack was weird, not for the kids, they were fine. But this was the first time they have really said a goodbye before one of them takes off in an airplane while they aren’t together. Both of them don’t seem to know what to do with that piece of information, Jack switching the weight back and forth between his feet to help ease his nerves. Iddy with her bottom lip between her teeth, it was finally Zander who broke the awkwardness with his question from below them. “Daddy, why not come?” he asks, he doesn’t seem upset more than anything curious. Jack bends down and explains he has a few more games, and then he promises he will come and he’s even gonna bring Apollo and Luna with him. Zander gasps at the news, a look of excitement in his eyes at the fact the family dog and cat were gonna be there for Christmas. “When?” he asks. 

“4 sleeps buddy.” As he pulls his son in for another hug, kissing the top of his head. Idris stomach twist, in a good way, she knew Jack was always good with kids. But seeing Jack being good with their kids, made something stir in her she hasn’t felt in a while. She takes a deep breath, pushing down whatever feelings were trying to crawl their way up. Jack puts his forehead against Zanders, like he always does before they are going to be separated. “Make sure you listen to Mama okay?”

“Okie daddy.” he stretches and moves away, his attention span has never been long even compared to other two-year olds. Zander holds onto Idris' hand as Jack stands and puts his hand on Zola’s head, leans down and gives her another kiss. 

“Bye-bye Zozo.” he coos. He smiles when she babbles back at him mixed in with “da-da” Finally he steps back and looks at Idris, he wants to step into her space, to hug her, kiss her goodbye even if it’s just on the cheek. But he doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable, so he stands back grasping the back of his neck, he can feel the slight sweat on his skin. “Uhh Iddy. Call me when you land okay." She steps forward and hugs him unprompted and he suddenly doesn’t have any breath in his lungs. He just closes his eyes and wraps an arm around her, the other reaching down to pet Zanders head. Jack could stand there all day despite having a game tonight, hell he could stand there forever if she’d let him. He breathed in finally, enjoying the scent of her shampoo, the smell of baby powder from Zola, he was holding his whole family for the first time in months and he will be damned if he ends it first. 

Jack isn’t sure how long they stood there, time always escapes him when Iddy is in his arms. Finally she looks at him “you’ll be doin’ your pre-game napping when we land.” It takes Jack a second for his brain to catch up, of course leave it to Iddy to go right back to conversation like that wasn’t the first time he had her in his arms in months. 

“Doesn’t matter.” he doesn’t leave room for debate, but he knows she will have something to say so he adds, “you and our kids are about to be on a plane without me, I will be lucky if I can even get my heart to stop pounding so fast, so I could sleep before I know you’re safe Idz.” He doesn’t look away, and neither does she, both trying to read what the other person is thinking. Neither of them giving the other even a slight clue, ‘when did I stop being able to read her every thought’ he thought to himself. 

“Okay.” she nodded at him, putting the car seats on the shitty airport trolly an airline employee offered. Idris was busy,  making sure Zander was holding onto the side of the cart and then she turned and left. Jack stood there to see if she would turn around and wave before she got onto the escalator she didn’t. But at least Jack could be happy that his son did, waving bye to his dad as he yelled something Jack couldn’t hear but knew it was some sort of goodbye. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sunday December 22nd: 

Jack had practice this morning but he didn’t care, just went through the motions. He missed his kids, he missed Iddy, but missing them isn’t new, being away from them due to his hockey schedule isn’t new. He missed most of Zander's firsts - from being a newborn baby to about 8 months old -  due to hockey. Jack knew the all too familiar feeling of missing his family, having fomo was his villain origin story at this point. The only thing that was new was the fact that he was home and they weren’t. It always fucked with him the most the nights where they were with Idris and not him. But at least for the most part they tried to switch off every other night. Jack knows that when he wakes up he’ll see his kids that morning or that afternoon picking them up from daycare. But this, them being home and him being in Jersey, it was torture, it felt like something was nawwing at his skin from the inside, and no matter what he did he couldn’t get the restless feeling out of his head or off his skin. 

The only good news he had was that tomorrow night right after the game he was gone. Jack would leave directly from the rock to the lakehouse if he could tomorrow. But he has to pick up Apollo and Luna from his place first. The little fact that he will be with his kids and Idris under the same roof after tomorrow night is the only thing keeping him from not screaming from the endless restlessness he was feeling. 

“You seem tense.” Nico observes and normally Jack would appreciate his captain and one of his best friends on the team checking on him. But right now he didn’t want to talk, he wanted to skip his shower and get dressed as quick as possible and go home. Jack wanted to pack the car so it was ready for tomorrow, he wanted to get gas so he didn’t have to stop tomorrow night, he wanted to FaceTime Idris and talk to her and his kids. Even though he knew she wasn’t going to talk to him, she would always answer though so he could talk to Zander and Zola. 

“I’m fine.” He mumbles, Jack didn’t even try to hide the little bit of annoyance in his voice. 

“Dude you don’t seem fine. Is everything okay at home?” Nico whispers the last part, he knows Jack doesn’t want people knowing about his life. Even though every single person on the team, coaches, medical staff and hell even the social media team knows Idris and him are living apart. But that doesn’t mean they know all the inner personal details of the day-to-day baby-mama drama. Even Nico doesn’t want their shit aired out for the gossip groups of the Rock. 

“Not in the mood to talk.” Jack mumbles as he throws a pair of sweats on. Jack knows he’s going to regret not showering as soon as he’s home, but at least if he’s home he can take a real shower, maybe if he stands under the hot water long enough - the water hot enough to feel like it’s slightly burning - he’ll be able to think about anything else besides Idris hugging him in the airport and how good it felt to have her in his arms again every time he closes his eyes. 

“Come on man. Keeping that shit in isn’t gonna help you.” Nico is poking, he wants Jack to talk, but Jack doesn’t wanna talk to him. 

He’s still pissed at Nico for babysitting his kids with his brother so Idris could come yell at him about Christmas. Nico also last week took his kids out for hot chocolate when Idris couldn’t pick them up on time from daycare on time due to a meeting running late. Jack can’t be pissed at Idris for not calling him, not trusting him enough to help her out when he was perfectly available. Not when he couldn’t stop thinking about the butterflies she gave him in his stomach when he wrapped her arms around him. Or the fact that he has been a dick to her since they separated, he made Luke their mediator in everything revolving around Idris for the first two weeks, including pick-up and drop-offs. But he can be pissed at Nico and he will be. Even if Jack knows Nico would never make a move on Idris, he knows they are like siblings, he also knows Idris would never go after one of his teammates even if they are separated. But the idea of Idris choosing another man over him, Jack’s always been the jealous type, ‘territorial like a pitbull’ is what his high school girlfriend called it. 

“I know you miss ‘em Jack, it’s normal you know. I miss my fam-” 

Jack cuts him off, he turns his head to Nico’s cubby and in a second he’s in his face screaming at him. “You don’t know shit Nico. This isn’t me missing my mommy or sister. I miss my kids who are 1000 miles away from me right now! You can’t even keep a girl long enough to have a kid. So you latch onto mine? How could you possibly know what I’m feelin’!” he yells. Luke and Jesper are pulling him away from Nico, Jack doesn’t know what happened, one second he was fine the next he was attacking. Jack really doesn’t know what happened, sure he might have been mad at Nico, but to try to attack him? He has always had a slight anger problem but usually it was just when shit didn’t go his way on the ice. The last couple weeks though he’s been snapping at everyone. 

“Bro chill.” he hears Luke in his ear, he tries to shove him off but Luke doesn’t let him, using his long arms to his advantage wrapping Jack in them as he pulls them to the other side of the locker room towards Luke’s bench. “You can be angry but you can’t take that shit out on anyone but yourself.” Luke mumbles softly, Jack knows if they were home he’d be louder, but Luke represents him too much as his older brother to air out his business out in the locker room. Or maybe it was Idris or the kids that made Luke stay quiet, whatever it was Jack was thanking the heavens as he felt himself calm down. Most of the people in the locker room had left to shower, or at least pretended to not listen and watch Jack’s breakdown in front of them.

Luke was holding him in his arms not letting him move until he forced his body to calm down. It must have taken longer than Jack thought to calm down because next time Jack looked up he noticed all the guys were gone, it was just Luke and himself in the room. He’s not sure where 10 men that are over 6 '0 ft tall and over 200 lbs went in 30 seconds but he’s grateful to be alone with his brother because he’s about to cry and at least Luke won’t think of him as pathetic as he felt for it. Luke lets go of his brother and Jack takes a step forward and then turns around so he’s facing Luke. Jack doesn’t wanna look up and see whatever emotion Luke is displaying on his face; disappointment, anger, sympathy. Although Jack doubts Luke feels any sympathy for Jack, he’s seen most of the shit go down between Idris and himself. Jack wouldn’t feel sympathy if he was in Luke’s shoes. Jack stares at his shoes, his dirty white sneakers he keeps here to wear before games. He must have slipped on the wrong pair of shoes when he was too in his head earlier. “It’s just eh” he tries to start, he clears his throat before he tries again. “This is the longest I’ve ever been away from my kids unless I was on a roadie.” 

“I know.” he says, Luke’s tone is neutral, but his voice sounds annoyed. Jack knows his brother isn’t annoyed, he really has no emotion behind his words, and that’s how Jack knows he’s getting fed up with his shit. 

“And Apollo all he does is cry at the door waiting for them to come home, and Luna won’t even glance my way like I’ve personally wounded her by taking her back to our place for a few days. It’s one thing to miss them, it’s another thing to have to watch how even our pets miss them.” Jack sniffles, he didn’t want to cry in front of Luke. He’s done a lot of that lately but he can’t help it, he misses them so much his chest physically hurts. 

“You are going to see them tomorrow night Jacky.” Luke tried to reason as he took a step towards his brother. 

“Yeah but by the time I get there, the kids will be asleep and probably Idris too. Plus I’ll have to crawl into a cold bed since Iddy’s stayin’ in the guest room.” he complains.

“Not to sound like a dick but who’s fault is it that you're even separated in the first place? And don’t say Iddy cause she’s the one who had the balls to leave cause maybe you don’t remember but I do live with you Jack. I know you're my big brother and I will always root for you, I will always look up to you in some way. But you can't seriously be mad at anyone else for where you’re standing.” 

Jack didn’t have a response for his little brother, but he’s never felt like a shitter older brother. Big brothers were supposed to set examples, be a role model, they were supposed to give the “get your shit together” talk to their little brothers, not the other way around. Jack is tired of Luke calling him out lately, but he doesn’t say it, he just sighs and glances up finally. Jack thinks he might be even more tired of seeing that expression on Luke’s face. The one where he’s disappointed but also looks like someone who has no shock in their body, like it was expected for Jack to yell and try to fight Nico, as if it was expected for Luke to have pull him off, or even expected for Jack to try to reason his actions with shitty excuses he knew held no weight. 

Jack just wants it to be tomorrow night so at least he can block everything out and just drive, drive until he finally feels at ease for the first time in days because he will be with his family, his kids, his Idz. 

—---------------------------------------------------------------------

Monday, December 23 ~ 2 days till Christmas: 

Idris was tired, she loved her kids, but not talking to another adult since Saturday morning when she left her sister’s was starting to weigh on her. Of course, she’s messaged Jack here and there when he’s asked for updates, texted her sister off and on. But an actual conversation, not since Saturday and she was starting to go a little stir crazy because of it. 

“MAMA.” Zander screamed from the family room, thankfully because of the open floorplan she didn’t have to move from the stove to answer his calls. 

“Yeah Z baby” she calls. “I’m in the kitchen bubs.” she calls out to him. Immediately she hears the pitter patter of his feet hitting the floor as he runs to her. 

“When's daddy comin’?” he asks as he slams his entire body weight into her legs, immediately trying to climb up her legs while he waits for an answer.. Thankfully she is normal for him constantly running into her and climbing her or Jack, it’s like his body constantly has to be in movement. Ellen swears that Jack was the same way, - and although she always wished to have a ‘mini - Jack’ when she was pregnant with Zander, she wishes she was more specific with the universe, she meant looks and not his restless energy and sass - Idris hopes that he starts to calm as he gets older and not more energetic because she doesn't know how she will survive the ‘horrible threes’ if he is even more of a ball of energy. 

“Honey I’m cooking lunch, do you want up?” she asks her son, glancing away from the grilled cheese she’s making for Zander and Zola to share. Zander continues to pull on the side of her hoodie, the bottoms of his feet pushing her calves trying to continue to climb her. 

“Yeah.” he finally huffs, Iddy barely bends down as she scoops her son up and sits him on the counter next to the stove so he can watch as she cooks. 

“It’s hot, Zander. No touching anything or you’ll have to get down." She gently reminds her son, but she’s not sure if he even knows that she is talking to him. Immediately jumping back into why he came to find his mom anyway. 

“When's daddy comin?” Frowning his eyebrows as he has to repeat his question from earlier. 

“Soon baby. Tomorrow. Daddy has one more game he has to play sweetheart.” Iddy says gently, not sure how he will respond, as she removes the pan from the hot burner and turns the stovetop off. 

“I wanna watch,” he says, although ‘watch’ comes out more as ‘wash.’ Iddy can’t help but smile at how he pronounces some words, still learning how to perfect some of his sounds. 

“Okay. It starts in about an hour I think. First lunch, then we can watch Daddy.” Idris starts to silently pray to the powers above that no one slams into Jack today, like they did the last time Idris let Zander watch one of his dads games a few weeks ago. She really doesn’t want Zander to get scared again like last time, he was so scared until he saw Jack and with him driving here tonight, she couldn’t imagine having an anxious Zander until the middle of the night. 

“FaceTime Daddy and ukle ‘uky.” he asks, Idris grins Zander also hasn’t perfected his ‘L’ sound yet. Idris turns to the 2 kid plates behind her that have some fruit on them and cuts the grilled cheese into 4 pieces and gives Zander 2 pieces and Zola’s plate one to start. 

“I’ll have to see if he’s available honey”, as she microwaves the leftover broccoli in the microwave from the night before she planned to add it to the kids lunch to make it a little more balanced. 

Pulling out her phone, as she walks back over to Zander texting Jack to ask if he has time before the game for a FaceTime. Glancing at the clock she knows the players are probably getting dressed for warm-ups right now or even on the ice for warmups already. Iddy helps her son get down from the counter and helps him settle into a chair at the kitchen table with his food. She sits Zola’s plate in front of her, as she drags Zola and her high-chair closer to the table. 

“Daddy first.” Zander demands, and Idris sighs as she is about to tell her son Jack hasn’t answered her yet but she’s saved by her phone ringing. 

Idris answers the phone, setting it up so it’s promoted in front of Zander. The first thing Jack hears as it finally connects is “Zander you still have to eat while talking to daddy.” Jack grins as he sees his son on the screen, head turned slightly no doubt pouting at Iddy. 

“I don’t wan’ broccoli.” he fusses. 

“Zander.” Jack calls his attention, it’s the first time Zander or Idris address that he’s on the phone. Idris is suddenly glad she’s off camera because she’s pretty sure her breath catches at the sight of Jack. He is sitting in his cubby, the phone titled so all you can see is the collar of his jersey and head, his hair damp and messy probably from him running his hands through it too much, his jawline perfectly on display. “Are you listening to Mama?” he asks. 

Zander looks like a deer caught in headlights, pouting slightly at the fact his dad is calling him out on his behavior. “Bb-but mama’s broccoli isn’t as good as yours.” he mumbles, arms crossed, looking down at his lap as he tells his dad why in his 2-year-old logic he is right. Iddy can’t help but roll her eyes because what her son really means is that she doesn’t smother it in butter and cheese. 

“I’m sure Mama made you more than broccoli Z.” he reasons. But Zander doesn’t respond verbally, just shoves a piece of grilled cheese in his mouth. 

“Daddy you comin’ soon?” he asks mouth full and all, shifting in his chair, suddenly on his knees so he can bend closer to the screen. 

“Yeah I’ll be there tomorrow when you wake up.” Jack answers. 

“Daddy?”

“Yeah.”

“You get a goal fa me.” Zander asks, Jack can hear Iddy chuckle close by in the background even if he can’t see her, and it makes his chest warm. 

“I’ll try bubs.” he promises. Jack looks off the camera and bites his lip, probably contemplating how to say bye to his son so quick. “I gotta go Z.” he softly says. 

“You always have to go.” Zander whines and his pout deepens. 

Jack doesn’t know what to say, he’s glad Idris is close by and can take over. “Z, he can’t score you a goal if he doesn’t go warm-up. Coach will be mad, Daddy might get in trouble and not be able to play.” Idris tries explaining, and although it’s a little dramatic Jack wouldn’t probably get benched if he skipped warm-ups he would definitely get chewed out by more than one person. 

“And how is he gonna score you a goal from the bench baby?” she asks their son. 

After another minute or so, Zander says “okie. Bye daddy. Good ‘uck.” he smiles at his dad. ‘Gosh toddlers and their big emotions,’ Jack thought to himself, as he told Zander bye and that he loves him and how he will see him soon. 

Iddy was able to finish feeding both kids and settle into the coach just in time to turn on the game. Zander is two so his attention span isn’t long enough to pay attention to a whole game. But when Jack gets the first goal 5 minutes into the game, Zander can’t help but scream jumping up and down, “Daddy scored! Daddy scored.” Idris shyly pulls out her phone to take a video of her son’s little celly in the family room, and sends it to Jack to see after the game.

It’s even more of a reaction when Jack gets a second goal, with an assist by Luke. Idris was never into hockey before she met Jack, but now her favorite part about watching hockey is watching her son react to it. They watched Jack get ‘star of the game’ and his interview after in the locker room. The one thing that stuck out to Idris about the interview was when he was asked about his celly. The reporter said he looked like he was trying to sign a ‘z’ in the air after both goals and wanted to know if he knew ASL. 

Jack has the biggest smile on his face, as he lightly chuckles, “no, not well. My kid Zander probably knows more than me.” Everyone laughs at that. “His name starts with a ‘z’ and before the game he asked if i could score him a goal so uh… I guess it was my way of saying hi.” Jack is slightly blushing now, he doesn’t talk about his kids often, he doesn’t post them, but everytime he does mention them he has nothing but adoration in his eyes. 

The reporter follows up with, “After the second you signed ‘z’ twice, why the difference, was it on purpose?” 

“Wow you were really watching me eh?” he jokes. “Do I need to file a report for a stalker?.” After a pause he laughs and goes “ I’m messing with you.Yeah it was on purpose, my second born is named Zola, and we call her Zozo a lot. So I guess it was my way of saying hi to her. Although she is under 2, she probably didn’t make the connection, despite also knowing more ASL than I do.” Everyone laughs after that, and Iddy loses focus as she is consumed in her thoughts about what Jack just revealed, 

Zander ends up FaceTiming with Jack one more time as Jack is sitting in the car in his apartment’s garage about to leave. Idris thinks it’s kind of cute watching how Zander can barely hold her phone as he marches around the house updating him on his thoughts of the Rangers game today. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bedtime was surprisingly easy at first, until Zander said he was scared to sleep in his big kid bed by himself. In a way, it can be understandable since they made the switch to a floor bed for him, she can’t remember if he ever actually has slept in it yet. Plus the one at both Jack’s and her place are the exact same, even the same frame, since originally one of them was brought for the lake house. But when they split they ended up using the frame for Idris’ apartment. Then, when she finally remembered they didn’t have one for the house in Michigan and she tried to go back and buy the same frame for a third time - because Zander has a very hard time with transition and change, she knew it was best if everything was the same - they were sold out. 

Then if she takes into account how this weekend went, Friday night they co-slept at her sisters, Saturday was a bad sleep for both Zander and Zola so they spent the whole night with Iddy in bed. Finally last night, Iddy was too tired from the night before. She didn’t care where they slept as long as they slept so she could sleep. 

She bends down so she’s on his level when she speaks to him. “Okay, I understand sleeping in a new place by yourself. It can be scary huh?” phrasing her statement as a question on purpose. Zander mumbles something as a sort of agreement, nodding his head as well. “Okay, well why don’t we lay down together for a little while?” she asks, with the plan of getting up and going to her own bed for the night once he’s asleep. 

As soon, Zola realized her mama was staying in the room and giving snuggles to her brother, she demanded attention. Standing up in her crib, babbling away, Iddy knows it doesn’t mean anything but also knows if she had the words she would be cursing Iddy out. This leads to all three of them cuddling in Zander’s bed. 

Jack arrived around 2 am, and he’s never been more grateful to be at his destination. Even with the medicine they got from the vet, Luna cried almost the entire twelve-hour car ride. Plus, anytime Apollo saw anything remotely interesting he barked, Jack didn’t know a dog could find so many interesting things. The worst part was that Jack couldn’t even drown them out with music, he tried but it only made them louder, around the eighth hour he gave up entirely. 

Jack didn’t want to park in the garage since he knew the sound would probably wake the kids up, which would wake up Idris. The last thing he wanted was a pissed off Idris because he was being “lazy about walking a couple more steps.” Jack shakes off the memory of her saying that last year to him, and steps out of the car stretching after so many hours. 

After letting Apollo use the bathroom, he grabs the cat carrier and the three of them start to make it inside. Jack kind of expected them to run off when they got inside, which they did. The part that kind of took him off guard after using the bathroom, and slowly making his way up the stairs to the kids room to check on them was to find Apollo and Luna already half sleep on the bed with all three of them; Zander, Zola, and Idris. Slowly he made his way out and stopped in the closet bedroom beside his own which happened to be Luke’s and grabbed the comforter. Quietly he made his way inside and laid the blanket on top of them, he was just about to leave when he heard his son, “daddy?” he calls out, and Jack silently curses that he woke up his kid. 

Turning around and getting on his knees again he whispers, “yeah buddy?” 

“Daddy home!” he says in his normal voice, which Jack hushes over. 

“Gotta be quiet Z. Mama and sissy are sleeping.” he whispers. “Plus Apollo and Luna.” glancing down at the end of the bed where Apollo is curled up, Luna not far from him. 

His son gasps in surprise, “ah, it’s like a sleepover.” Zander says, ‘sleepover’ it’s the word they use when they are trying to explain to their barely 2-year-old how cool it is to have a sleepover with ‘just mama’ or ‘just daddy.’ It definitely wasn’t the best explanation, and although Idris and Jack realize that in hindsight there isn’t much anyone can do. 

“Yeah, a big sleepover.” Jack whispers, a slight sad grin on his face as he pets his son’s hair, dipping down to forehead to give him a kiss. “Goodnight. Love you.” Jack goes to get up, but Zander grabs his arm and stops him. 

“Want daddy cuddles,” he whispers. 

“Z, you have mama cuddles right now we can cuddle tomorrow.” he promises. As much as he would love to go to sleep with his family, he doesn’t want Iddy to wake up uncomfortable. A part of him knows that’s pushing the limit too far, too fast, and he doesn’t want her pulling away even more than she already has. Hell, they didn’t even sleep in the same bed the last six months they were together, Jack definitely knows it’s some kind of crossed boundary if he crawls into bed. 

“Daddy. Sleepover too” Zander is doing that thing, what twitter calls “famous Hughes pout” Jack thinks. Jack really meant no, but he also knows if he says no again, Zander will probably stop whispering which will definitely wake Iddy and Zola up then Idris will definitely be mad at him. 

“Okay.” he says, pulling the comforter up and laying next to his son, thankfully they got a full size bed but as Jack lays down he’s thinking they should have gotten a queen. 

“One big sleepover.” Zander mumbles into his neck, content to be between both of his parents. Jack rationalizes his decision by telling himself that it’s the lesser of two evils. If he said ‘no’ Zander was going to wake up the entire house and Iddy would be pissed. But if he crawls into bed, Iddy might be upset that he crossed a boundary even if he was pressured into crossing it. Jack tells himself that either way Iddy will be upset, but dealing with an angry ‘got 8 hours of sleep Iddy is a lot easier to stomach, plus he gets to cuddle with his son, so basically it’s a no brainer to Jack. 

“Yeah bud, one big sleepover.” he mumbles as he drifts off to sleep. 

Tuesday December 24, 2024

Idris is the first one to wake up, she feels that Zola has moved she’s no longer laying down tucked into her side and immediately she’s up ‘mama bear’ fully activated. Thankfully she’s just at the end of the bed playing with Luna, and even if she wasn’t in the bed, the bed is on the ground so she wouldn’t get hurt if she climbed off of it. Realizing her daughter is safe, she takes a deep breath, her heart rate slowly coming back to a normal pace, until she turns her head and sees Jack and Zander curled up together. 

Idris truly doesn’t know what she feels except anger at the fact that Jack just decided to crawl into bed with them last night. But, she also reminds herself that it’s Christmas and she doesn’t want to fight with him and ruin Christmas for her kids. Gently she removes the comforter that Jack must have brought in for them and climbs to the end of the bed where Zo is. “Good morning princess.” she coos, “why don’t we let the boys sleep and go make some breakfast? Are you hungry Zozo?” 

All Zola does in response is giggle and clap her hands. Iddy decides that’s good enough and scoops her up as she stands, both Apollo and Luna following them out hoping to get an early breakfast. Idris goes downstairs, lets Apollo out, and makes a morning milk for Zola. Idris goes ahead and puts Zola in the playpen in the family room while she moves around the kitchen feeding both animals, and making her morning cup of coffee. She’s happy she’s at the lakehouse and can indulge on Quinn’s fancy espresso machine. 

As she opens the fridge she hears baby feet stomping down the stairs and hears Zander walk slowly into the kitchen. He has his baby blanket in one hand, his hair an absolute mess as he nudges in Iddy’s leg who is still in front of the open fridge looking for what to make for breakfast. 

Iddy’s hand goes to the mess of curls on top of his head. “Morning Z.” She greets him still not looking at him yet. Zander makes some kind of groaning sound as an answer, never been a morning person just like Jack he needs to ease into his day. 

“I was gonna make breakfast, do you wanna stay in here or go lay down on the coach and watch cartoons with sissy?” she asks him softly, finally looking down at him. 

Zander seems to really think about the offer before he says “cartoons. but first morn’ kisses .” The sleep is still evident in his voice. She scoops him up and carries him to the family room, turning on the TV and putting some random cartoon on. Gently she goes to put Zander down the coach, kissing his cheeks super fast to give him his “morning kisses.”

By the time she goes to the kitchen to make breakfast and feeds both kiddos Zander has decided he’s wide awake and ready to go wake up Jack. Glancing at the clock and seeing it’s barely quarter after 7. “Z, you can’t go wake up Daddy, he came in late last night, he needs to sleep.” 

Before Zander can respond they hear rustling from upstairs, and Zander runs to the bottom of the stairs and even opens the baby gate before Idris can catch him. Thankfully he still likes to crawl up the stairs and he didn’t have to crawl far since Jack met him halfway. 

Jack picks him up and lightly tosses him in the air, Zander squeals in happiness as Jack walks them into the kitchen. 

“I didn’t make you breakfast, I didn’t think you would be awake yet.” Idris says standing at the kitchen island not even looking up from her phone. Idris knew she was being petty but she also couldn’t bring herself to care. Jack last night did what he always does ‘whatever he wants’ with no regard to how other people would feel about his actions. 

He sets Zander down, who immediately runs off to the family room to play with Zola. Jack walks around the counter to meet Idris, facing her he says quietly. “It’s okay. I’m sorry about last night.” Jack gently raises his hand from resting on the counter, as if he’s debating if he wants to reach out and touch Idris' arm. 

“We can talk about it later.” 

Jack started to explain himself anyway “It was Zander he-“ 

Idris snaps quietly at him, “That’s real rich Jack, always blaming someone else, even your 2-year-old son. And I said we can talk about it later when the kids aren’t 20 feet away.” 

No one else is set to arrive until around 5 tonight even Jack’s parents, as much as they love their son and adore their grandchildren and Idris. They all decided - more like Luke warned them about how bad it’s been with the bitterness and overall pettiness - it would be best if they came later because they know they are less likely to fight if they don’t have anyone to distract the kids, well they hoped. 

Thankfully both of the kiddos were pretty much on the same nap schedule so they both went down around 10 am. Jack gulped his body suddenly tense as he exited the kids room with Idris. He really wished it was one of those days where he joined the kiddos for naptime just so he didn’t have to go downstairs and fight with Idris. 

Idris grabbed the baby monitor on her way out of the room, slowly making her way down the hall and down the stairs. Jack followed behind like a child who knew he was about to get scolded or a dog with his tail between his legs looking down, nervous about what’s about to come next. He followed her all the way to the kitchen before she turned around and gave him a look as if to say ‘what the fuck Jack?’ 

“Idz, let me explain.” He speaks gently, raising his hands up as if he’s already surrounded by raising the white flag. Jack thinks if he goes on using her nickname, it will soften her, possibly maybe a little. 

It does not go the way Jack was hoping for, “Don’t Hughes.” she grits out of her teeth. ‘Fuck she’s more pissed than I thought’ Jack thinks to himself. “Don’t call me that when I’m pissed at you, it isn’t going to help you.”

“I’m sorry I am. But Zander woke up when I came to check with the kids, and he asked for snuggles. I told him that you were already cuddling with him. But he was insistent, okay? And I hadn’t seen them in a few days plus I knew if I said no he would probably throw a tantrum and he would wake you and Zo up. Okay. So I decided it was the best option. I know you probably think I crossed some kind of line with where we are at. But I’m not sorry for giving into Zander, even if it made you pissed at me.” Jack explains as he watches her expression soften which Jack is grateful for. 

“You did cross a boundary. I only accidentally fell asleep in Zanders bed with them. I was trying to get him to not co-sleep for the first time in days and I ended up falling asleep with them.” Iddy turns her head slightly, and stares off a little looking deep in thought. Jack really wants to step into her space, he wants to gently grab her chin and force her to look at him, he wants to force her to tell him what she’s thinking.Even though he knows it’s technically not his place anymore, he still wants to.  But he doesn't, he just chews the inside of his mouth giving his mind something else to concentrate on. After a minute or so, she turns to him, “let’s unpack the car while the kids are asleep.” 

They work in silence bringing everything in and hiding them in the basement closet they know the kids will never open. They even build the mini stick goal in complete silence, it would impress others watching two people work in that degree of harmony without speaking. Although, Jack thought to himself about how it was only like this because of everything that’s happened. For better or worse, they learned how to work in silence long before Idris left and it wasn’t because they were so comfortable with each other. It was because Jack was so angry that anytime he spoke to Idris they yelled, and Idris stopped trying to beg Jack to try, so they learned how to work together, raise two kids without even speaking for almost 10 months. 

—---------------------------------------------------------

Once the kids wake up from their naps the pair seems to be able to find their voices again as if nothing happened during the kids naps. They spend the rest of the day playing with the kids, letting Zander run the show in how they spent the day. From playing mini sticks, to playing outside on the playset or jumping on the ground level trampoline. 

Around 3 though Idris reminded Zander that they still needed to bake cookies to leave out for Santa tonight. Zander loves baking with his mom, so he was content with not playing outside anymore and instead drinking hot chocolate and baking cookies with his mom. Zola is a little young at 19 months to care about baking, so Jack and her play in the family room. 

The house is filled with giggles from both kids, Christmas music playing lightly in the background, the Christmas lights glowing from the tree and the smell of sugar cookies baking in the oven. While the cookies were baking they decided to throw a Christmas movie on and of course because Zander is Jack’s son he picked ‘Home Alone’ to watch. Jack reminds himself to enjoy this, enjoy that they are snuggled all together on the couch watching his favorite Christmas movie with no tension. While Idris is hoping that the lightness in the air can stay until after tomorrow night but she has a feeling in the back of her mind that it probably won’t. 

—--------------------------------------------------------

“Mama look.” Zander demands, as he displays one of his finished sugar cookie decorated with so many globs of icing and sprinkles, she already knows she’s going to make Jack eat that one tonight. 

“Wow baby. It’s beautiful.” she smiles wide at him.

She sees in the corner of her eye chuckling as Zola sits well more stands in his lap. Zola didn’t seem to understand the concept of decorating the cookie, as she had icing all of her hands and face giggling, she was signing for ‘more.’ 

“No.” Idris says, signing ‘no’ as well, to which Zola starts aggressively signing ‘more.’ Jack can’t help but laugh as Idris signs inresponse ‘no. all done. All done.” Idris doesn’t even speak because she knows she doesn’t have to for Zola to understand what she’s saying. Zola tries to reach for the plate to grab another cookie but Zander beats her. 

“Mama said all done Zola. These are for Santa” in the most serious voice a 2-year-old can have. Jack just laughs at the fact that not only did Zander also cut off his little sister, but how he did it,  even as Zola turns to him, grabbing onto him fussing thinking he will give into her. 

“Not this time Zozo. I know cookies taste good though.” she whispers as he rubs her back, and comforts her, even if he’s still laughing with Idris about Zander cutting her off. 

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------

As everyone arrives the house becomes a loud, energetic place. Zander convinced both his uncles and Grandpa to play mini sticks with him, which Idris didn’t even realize they had that many mini sticks at the lakehouse. Of course, none of them are the mini sticks Zander asked Santa for Christmas. Ever since he learned that his dad was getting a custom mini stick from Bauer Hockey, he asked Santa for his own which would have been easy for Jack to ask for. But no, Zander didn’t like that it said J.Hughes on it, since his nickname wasn’t ‘J’ it was ‘Z.’ So he wanted it to say Z.Hughes. Thankfully, Jack was able to convince them to make two custom mini sticks, and even put them in the black mystery paper for him, if he put it on his instagram story Christmas Day. 

While the boys were all busy playing mini sticks with the kids, Ellen and Idris were in the kitchen. As Idris pours both Ellen and herself a glass of wine, she hears Ellen ask her if she’s okay.

“What?” she asks in a daze, maybe she didn’t hear Ellen right. 

“Are you okay honey? I know I’m Jack’s mom but, you can still talk to me you know. Although, I was never a single mom per say, Jim was gone so much when the boys were little sometimes it felt like I was. I know you have your mom who was a single mom you can go to for advice but I just wanted-.” 

“Ellen.” Iddy cuts her off, gently setting both wine glasses down. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m fine really.” Ellen gives Idris a look as if she knows that Idris is full of it, but doesn’t push, just nods her head. Before either of them can speak they hear a high pitched cry and Apollo barking loudly from the family room and both of them take off. 

Idris runs into the family room to see Zander holding his arm, fully crying in Jack’s arms. As soon as he sees Idris, he no longer wants Jack, only his mom, a true mama's boy. As Idris kneels down to her son, he slams into her body. “Shh. it’s alright. What happened, love?” she asks her son as he forces himself as close as humanly possible to her his high pitch screaming not lessening. 

“What happened?” Ellen asks the men in the room in that voice you never want to hear from your mother no matter how old you are. 

“He got hit with a puck.” Luke mumbles as he picks up Zola so she doesn’t get too close to the young parents while they try to calm down their son. 

“A foam one right?” Ellen asks. 

“No.” Jim answers. 

“What?” Idris asks the adults around her, refusing to look at Jack. 

“We couldn’t find any foam ones, so we thought we would use an outside hockey puck. I told them to be careful but Zander is so jumpy, I guess when Quinn shot the puck, he moved at the last minute and it hit him.” Jim explains. 

“It was an accident.” Jack mumbles as Zander is finally just sniffling. “Hi lil’ man.” he whispers to his son, who has barely left the comfort of his mothers arms, ever so slightly tilting his head to see his dad. 

“The good news is that it can’t be broken, Quinn didn’t shot it that hard.” Luke comments, and then immediately shut up when he was met with glares from everyone else in the room. 

Quinn bends down to Zander, “hey buddy I’m so sorry.” Jack can tell that Quinn feels like shit for it, but he doesn’t care he hurt his son all he wants to do is punch Quinn in the face a couple times. 

“Iz otay.” Zander whispers and Quinn sadly smiles back at his nephew. After Idris and Jack both looked over Zander’s arm without his long sleeve shirt on in the bathroom, they knew he was just gonna have a nasty bruise but that was about it. 

The Hughes family has this tradition that Idris has just decided to roll with when it comes to Christmas Eve dinner. Idris grew up in a family where they had to dress up and all the aunties, uncles, and grandparents came over. The expectation for you to be on your best behavior in your best Sunday clothes which were also usually the mist itchy clothes. The Hughes were the complete opposite, every year they ordered pizza in and just bumped out on the coaches watching movies. 

So that’s what they did, Zander didn’t leave Idris’ arms and neither did Zola. Both of the babies are perfectly content in their moms arms and no one else's. It was kind of a pain for Idris to help both of the kiddos eat when they were so physically attached to her. But anytime Jack tried to help by peeling one of them off, they whined and batted his hand away. Everyone could tell it hurt Jack’s feelings, his dad slapping his shoulder almost trying to comfort him. 

Sometime during the movie, Zola fell asleep. It was somewhere in the middle of ‘The Elf’ where Buddy is decorating the apartment and eating maple syrup pasta for breakfast that Idris’ phone buzzes. Gently she grabs it out of her pocket and sees that it’s her boss calling her, immediately she gently removes the limbs of her Zander off of her getting up and handing a sleeping Zola to Ellen on her way out the family room. 

“Hello.” she answers the phone, standing in the hallway that leads to the stairs going upstairs. 

“Hey glad I caught you. Remember that client Samson that wanted that painting for his wife for Christmas?” he asks sounding rushed. 

“You mean for her birthday?” Idris asks kindly trying not to come out and tell her boss he’s wrong. 

“Yeah yeah same thing anyway, the artist finally agreed to the price today at 500k.” 

“Wow, that's great, I know Samson will be happy.” 

“Well that’s the problem,” after a pause her boss continues “that’s kind of why I’m calling.” 

“What?” she doesn’t try to hide her anxiety.

“Well Samson has apparently decided that it’s not worth 500k and the artist barely agreed to that price so I need you to convince Samson it’s worth it.” he explains as if it’s just a regular Tuesday morning in the office. 

“On Christmas Eve?” she asks. 

“Yeah. It’s one phone call " Iddy come on.” sounding like it’s not a big deal at all. 

“Okay.” 

“Perfect. But he can’t do it tonight, it’s going to be the day after tomorrow around 2 pm. I’ll tell Sarah, my new secretary, to email them to you.” 

Idris can’t help but joke, “what happened to Kennedy?” she chuckles, knowing it’s an on-going joke that the only woman who can stand working for him is her because he doesn’t hit on her. 

“Didn’t work out. Anyway Merry Christmas. Send the kiddos my love. Jack too.” 

“Haha, very funny William.” sounding as sarcastic as possible as she hangs up the phone. 

Before she can even put her phone back in her hoodie’s pocket, she jumps up at the sound of Jack behind her. “Seriously Idris. You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Jesus Jack you scared me. What are you even talking about?” Idris doesn’t bother hiding the tiredness in her voice, it’s been a long day and it will be an even longer.

 “You left watching a movie with your family on Christmas Eve to gossip with William.” his arms are crossed in that way where it’s not because he’s annoyed, his jaw slightly clenched. 

“Zola is asleep. Zander was half asleep when I left. So yes I stepped out to take a phone call when it’s a movie I have seen no less than a 100 times.” Idris was matching Jack’s annoyed expression not in the mood for whatever she knows he’s about to imply. 

“That’s not the point.” slightly raising his voice, it doesn’t go unnoticed to Idris that someone in the family room turns up the volume of the movie. 

“Then what is Jack?” she asks.

“The fucking point is that it’s always him. It’s like he has this power over you even if your kids aren’t above it!” He’s now screaming and any chance Idris had of not also raising her voice is over. 

“That’s not even close to the truth and you fucking know it! I’m not sure what the fuck you’re trying to imply Jack but it’s wrong!” 

“So you don’t care more about your career than you do us!” he yells at her. 

“No! I don’t. But the same argument could be made for you, Mr.hotshot hockey player!”

“You don’t seem to mind about my hockey player money.” he retorts back, he has that smirk on his face like when someone knows an insult they just spit out sticks. 

“Oh my god! Were not even together and were having the same fucking fight! It’s insane!” she yells storming out of the hall to climb the stairs two at a time, but Jack is apparently not done. 

“So that’s it?” he yells at her as they climb the stairs. 

“Yeah that’s fucking it Jack! You know I’m done, you know I love my job just like you do. You know I love being a mom. But you also know I was hesitant to come here, but I love being a mom so bad I decided to spend my first Christmas single in years with my ex-boyfriend and his family so my kids can have both their parents for Christmas. So don’t tell me I put anything above those babies again asshole.” Idris turns to walk down the hall to the guest room she’s been staying in. 

“Ex-fiance. Not boyfriend.” he can’t help but point out, it’s like a sickness, the way even when she hasn’t been his for almost 3 full months he still needs to stake his claim to her. 

“God of course that’s what you got out of that.” she mumbles as she slams the door behind her. 

Jack makes his way back downstairs, kind of surprised that Zola stayed asleep during that, she’s still snuggled up on his moms chest. Zander has since climbed into Quinn’s lap for cuddles, it doesn’t really surprise anyone he is becoming the favorite uncle whenever he’s around. “Don’t” he mumbles as he falls into the coach where Idris was sitting, Luke next to him. 

“Oh bro. I wasn’t planning on it. That’s what mom and dad are for.” he whispers as a response. 

“Daddy?” Zander asks from Quinn’s lap. 

“Yeah Z.” he asks, trying to hide how angry he is from his son. 

“Where's mama?” 

“She has a headache bubs, so she went to bed early.” 

“Oh” is all he responds with leaning back into his uncles chest. 

“You always have been a shit liar.” Luke mumbles which earns a slap in the back of his head from Jack. 

After a couple minutes, Jack can see that Zander and Quinn are whispering amongst themselves not really watching the ending of the movie. If Jack took an honest survey of the room no one was really watching the movie, as if everyone was on edge waiting for the next shoe to drop. 

Zander slowly shimmies his way off of his uncle's lap and goes to make his exit. “Where are ya headed Z?” Jack asks. 

“To give mama snuggles. Like she does to me when I feel sick.” he tells his dad before he’s off dragging the same baby blanket he left on the coach this morning back upstairs with him. 

“Well I think we're headed to bed as well.” Jim announces. 

“I can put Zola to bed Ma, hand her over” Jack offers but is waved off as she stands and they leave the room. 

After a couple minutes of the brothers sitting in silence Quinn’s the one to break it. “I know you guys are separated, but it must be a new low for your son to comfort Idris when you're the one who made her upset.” 

“Will you shut-up you hurt my kid tonight I outta kill you.” Jack grinds between his teeth.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Idris hears a knock on her door and decides to ignore it knowing it’s probably Ellen or one of Jack’s brothers coming to check on her. “I’m fine” she groans back, turning away from the door. She can hear it click open and says “Luke I’m really not in the mood.” 

“Mama” she hears Zander say and suddenly she’s sitting fully up starring at her son at the side of the bed. 

“Hi honey. Is your arm feeling better?” she asks. 

“Yeah. Daddy said you your head hurts.” he mumbles softly as if not to speak too loud to hurt your imaginary headache anymore than it already would be and Idris heart melts at the gesture. 

“Yeah, just a little. I’ll be okay.” reaching out to gently push the baby curls out of his eyes, suddenly thinking about the fact he needs a haircut. 

“Want snuggles? Like when I’m hurt you give snuggles” he asks shyly looking up at his mom. 

“Always from you baby. Come ‘ere” As she picks him up and climbs under the covers with him enjoying her son cuddling with her. 

Jack went to check on the kids around 1 am when Idris and he agreed to meet downstairs to play Santa. When he peaked in he only saw Zola in her crib. ‘Z must still be with Idris.’ he thinks to himself. Idris doesn’t come down to help but who can blame her, he was kind of dick to her. So Jack carries up all the gifts by himself and puts them under the tree including the new goal and Zolas new walker toy. He eats all the cookies, even Zanders very very sugary ones and the carrots too, only leaving the stumps. 

Finally as he lays down he hears Zola crying. Sometimes she still needs a diaper changed in the middle of the night. Slowly he gets up and walks across the hall to the nursery to see Zola standing in her crib crying. “Hey Zozo.” he greets her as he flicks the light on and walks across the room. 

Zola did need a diaper changed, but once she did that she was still crying Jack wasn’t sure what was wrong and then signed for ‘mother.’ Idris was coming into the nursery anyway after hearing Zola not calming down. “Mama” she stretches, physically trying to get out of Jack’s arms and into hers. 

It hurt Jack more than he cared to admit, Zola was always a ‘daddy’s girl’ literally from the moment she came out of Idris. There were so many times when she was young that only he could calm her down, she really only ever wanted Idris if she was hungry as a newborn. 

“Hi honey.” she coos and immediately she stops crying. Idris walks over to her crib and grabs a pacifier. Zola glady takes it and leans her head on Idris’ shoulder. Jack stands off to the side feeling like chopped liver. As Idris tries to put her back in her crib she gets fussy again. 

“Okay okay. I get it. It must be scary sleeping alone. I don’t think you’ve ever done that before huh? Zander is already in my bed, wanna sleep with mama and brother tonight?” she asks in a soft voice that one would only use for a baby or small animal. 

Jack feels like shit still standing in the middle of the room, as Idris walks out the room carrying a very content Zola. All he can think about is how that’s the third time today his kids have picked Idris over him, and the second time tonight Zola specifically has. Jack never thought he would be jealous because his kids are giving more attention to Idris but he is, and that’s all he can think about as he attempts to fall asleep. 

—---------------------------------------------------------------------

Wednesday December 25, 2024 - Christmas Day

Idris woke up to Zander shaking her awake, Idris has never seen him so excited in the morning, she grabs her phone and looks at the time 5:45 AM. 

“Santa came! COME ON MA.” He screams physically trying to pull her up. A very big contrast to how be is every other day of the year, but Iddy finds it cute. 

“Zander. Shhh. People are sleeping.” As she helps Zola out of bed, and lets her walk just holding her hand. Idris thinks it’s kind of amazing how kids wobble and then all of a sudden one day they can walk and talk like it’s nothing. 

“Santa came Zo! Come on, move faster.” Zander starts pleading with his little sister to move faster. 

Iddy can see how flustered Zander is becoming at how ‘slow’ Zola is walking down the hall,scared he might try to drag her down the stairs himself soon.  So she suggests “Z honey why don’t you go wake up Daddy and we’ll meet you downstairs.” 

He doesn’t need to be told twice, sprinting down the hall screaming for Jack to wake up. Idris can hear a yelp from Jack from the stairs and can only imagine where Zander jumped him awake. 

Idris makes it down the family room, at the exact moment she hears Zander running down the stairs. His yelling must have woken everyone up, because behind Jack are both his brothers and his parents and Apollo bringing up the rear. 

Everyone lets the kids open their gifts all at once from Santa, it’s kind of heartwarming seeing how happy they both are. Apollo has decided to bring the wrapping paper to Jim who’s holding the trash bag. 

“Apollo. Are the kids too messy for you?” Iddy jokes and all he does is use his nose to nudge her leg as he passes her with another ball of wrapping paper in his mouth. 

Quinn laughing asks “did you guys teach him to do that?” 

“No” Jack breathes out in between his own laughing fit. 

Once the kids were done everyone opened their gifts from everyone all at once. Except for the gifts that Zander and Zola (Zander to be honest) picked out for everyone. Zander loved passing out his gifts - some might have been homemade - but Jack’s and Iddy’s were not. He stood in front of his dad practically blocking the view as he opened his gift. Now when Idris took Zander out shopping for his dad, she did not stir him in any sort of direction; she truly gave him free range to pick whatever ‘he’ wanted his dad to have. This is how Jack ended up opening a bag of pretzels and a pink beanie. In his defense, pretzels are Jack’s favorite snack (might also be his, so there might be a conflict of interest but Iddy didn’t say anything). The bright pink beanie was because “daddy only wears boring colors and pink is a fun color.” The beanie also has a tacky flamingo stitched on the front but Jack loves it anyway and puts it on right away. 

Now when Jack took Zander out he did not go with the ‘free range method.’ Now Jack did let Zander  wrap it,  Idris is pretty sure he used at least 2 rolls of tape alone because she had to use scissors to cut out the box. When she opened the box she found a new pair of knee high leather boots to replace her old pair. Nothing was wrong with her old pair but when she had Zola her feet grew in size and never went back down. She loved her knee high boots and was really sad she had to donate them. Even over a year later she hadn’t really found the time to replace that exact pair of other boots she could wear instead. But to see the exact pair, down to the brand and even the little pattern stitched in the heel made her gasp. 

“Do you like them mommy?” Zander asked unsure since she hadn’t spoken immediately. 

“I love them, baby. Thank you.” she whispers and as she hugs Zander she makes eye-contact with Jack who's across the room sitting in a chair with that dumb pink beanie on. She mouths ‘thank you’ to him and he blushes, quickly looking away. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Surprisingly to everyone, the day was turning out to be pretty good. After presents, Idris, Quinn and Ellen made a huge breakfast for everyone. Everybody sat around the dining room table (the kitchen table not comfortable to fit everyone plus the kiddos) and ate. The meal was great, it was like the tension from last night was gone. After breakfast everyone sort of migrated to the family room, lounging around doing nothing, some Christmas movie on in the background no one was really watching. Quinn even made a comment to Luke about how he’s gonna win the fight since it was already 4 pm without Jack and Idris getting into a fight. All Luke said was “I don’t know about that big brother.” as he walked away stealing the last cinnamon roll on Quinn’s plate he had just warmed up as a snack, going to chase after Zander with his new nerf gun.

Idris was in the kitchen, finishing cleaning the dishes she was feeling too lazy to clean right after breakfast. Idris was enjoying the quiet around the loudness that was the Hughes family Christmas. As she was washing the last pan that had the cinnamon rolls in them she heard someone come behind her but didn’t think anything of it until she heard Jack’s voice. 

“Hey” he softly says. 

“Hey yourself.” she answers awkwardly, not really sure what Jack was looking for, maybe he wanted to hear thank you the present Idris thought to herself. Putting the pan in the drying rack and wiping her hands with a dish towel she turns“Thank you by the way for the boots.” 

Jack babbles out a quiet “yeah no problem.” his cheeks were just slightly more pink than they were when he came in. “Uh, can we talk?” he asks, scratching the back of his neck a nervous tic he’s never been able to grow out of. 

“About?” she asks confused about what Jack could possibly be thinking about. 

Somehow her answer must of satisfied Jack because he walks more into the kitchen standing directly in front of Idris leaning against the island, while she’s still in front of the sink. “Look about last night.” 

“What is there to talk about?” Idris doesn’t mean to sound as defensive as she does. But how many times can you have the same fight with someone before there is nothing left to add to the conversation. 

“Uh like about how you disappeared in the middle of the movie to talk to a precious boss who constantly calls you when he knows you are home spending time with the kids.” he might not have meant to scold her but that’s what it sounded like. 

“Oh my god Jack. I can’t believe you are coming in here and instead of apologizing you are just bringing up again how mad that I took one phone call about work. You act as if someone from the devils called you, you wouldn’t have taken it.”

“I wouldn’t.” 

Idris is nothing less than baffled at how Jack is acting right now. “That’s such bullshit and you know it.” Idris starts to walk around the kitchen as if she needed to give herself as much physical space from Jack as possible. 

“It’s not.” he defends himself before he adds, “Did you answer just because it was him?” The way he says ‘him’ Idris immediately knows what’s really bothering him, it’s not that she got up during the movie or even that she took a work call. No, Jack was mad because he was jealous. 

“Oh my god!” she sighs. “I can’t believe this. You’re mad at me because you're jealous.” she accuses Jack, but it comes out more as a statement - as if it was already confirmed as a fact - rather than an assumption. 

“I am not.” he snaps at her, his voice starting to get ever so slightly higher, as he walks around the island to be on the same side as her again. 

“You fucking are Jack! God I can’t believe this! We are literally again having the same fight and we are not even together anymore!” feeling so frustrated that she is starting to yell, running her hands through her hair as if it will ease some of the anger she is feeling inside. 

“God I am not. I’m mad that you prioritize work over our family!” 

“Bullshit. Fucking bullshit and you fucking know it!” she yells, not thinking about who else is in the house, or the fact that Zander and Zola are in the next room. “God that is so rich coming from you! How much of Zander's first 9 months of life did you miss? How much of me being pregant with Zola were you just.. gone Jack? Playing hockey?” 

“I was providing for this family!” he yells, his blue eyes as dark as the deep sea filled with his anger.

“I never said that you weren’t! What I am saying is that you can’t say that you also don’t work a lot of hours and are away a lot from the kids! You can’t sit there and point a finger at me when three are p[ointing back Jack! I’m done having this conversation with you. Whether you're jealous. Not jealous. I don’t care we’re broken up so there is no reason for you to feel some type of way. Or for you to come in here and yell at me.” Idris turns to walk away and leave the kitchen but stops at Jack's words. 

“Are you fucking him?” he asks. Idris is frozen and she is astonished at his accuration of her character.

“What?” she asks as she turns around, truly believing she heard him wrong because her Jack would never ask her such a thing or think that somehow she could be sleeping with her boss. 

“You heard me.” he snapped, stepping closer to her. “Are you dropping your panties anywhere you can for him like you use to for me?” his words spitting venom. 

“Fuck you.” Idris says she walks away just trying to get upstairs as far away from Jack as she possibly can because her watery eyes become full blown tears. 

Jack follows her, apparently not done with fighting with her. Dispute the fact that it feels like his words somehow felt worse than a bullet to the chest. “What no answer Iddy?” he asks. 

Idris was going to ignore him until she heard her son. “STOP.” he yells at Jack jumping in front of him kicking and punching him as hard as he could. “ALL YOU DO IS HURT MAMA. I HATE YOU.”

Idris can’t walk away from her son even if a tiny part of her loves him for it. She comes up behind him, picking him up from under his armpits and carrying him away somewhere. “Zander no. We do not hit people and we do not tell them you hate them.” Idris starts to talk carrying him up the stairs, still an angry ball of limbs yelling. 

“I DO HATE HIM. I DO” 

“We don’t use that word in this house.” they can hear Idris says before they hear a door shut upstairs.

Jack doesn’t move, he doesn’t say anything he’s frozen in place. Jack doesn’t even know where Zander learned that word, and it breaks his heart. His own kid, the one thing he loves the most in this world hates him? Jack knew that he preferred Idris over him, which was fine. But to hate him, to want him to leave. Jack was gonna be sick, he felt this deep need to throw up. 

“I-I I need some air.” he chokes out to his family standing around the hall and family room. Jack runs out of room to the back deck, he doesn’t stop moving until he’s leaning over the railing emptying his stomach of everything he ate in the last 12 hours. 

“Here.” Quinn says to Luke, handing him a 100 dollar bill. 

“Keep it. I don’t want it.” Luke mumbles climbing up the stairs, whether to go hide his room or check on Idris and Zander no one is sure. 

“I’ll go check on him.” Quinn says it at the same time Jim says “Imma check on Jack.” But Ellen stops both of them, gently touching both of them on the shoulder. 

“No, I got it. Why don’t you guys finish the movie?” She doesn’t give them any room for debate; they settle back into the coach. 

Ellen slowly opens the sliding glass door now in her boots and winter coat, along with a blanket she must have grabbed on her way out. Jack turns around to the sound of the door, Ellen can see his red rimmed eyes from crying, his blue eyes the lightest of shades it always is when he cries. “I don’t wanna talk.” he mumbles turning back out to look at the lake, he can’t see much because it’s so dark out but he tries anyway. 

“Okay, that’s fine. I'll tell you to listen.” she says in that tone only mothers can use on their sons, as she drapes the blanket over his shoulders. “He doesn’t hate you, you know that right Jacky?” she asks gently. 

“Uff. Could have fooled me.” he mumbles. 

“Jack, he's two. He doesn’t even know how to spell his name, he doesn’t understand what he’s saying.” she tries to gently let Jack see the truth. 

“I don’t know Ma, he never wants me anymore. Even when he’s at home with me he’s asking for Idris. I knew he was a mama’s boy and I was okay with that but he hates me. All he seems to do is fight me on every little thing. Honestly I’ve been a shit father, I would probably hate me too if I was him."He still hasn’t looked at his mom, he’s just word vomiting as he leans against the railing of the deck and  stares out to the land and the lake. 

“I’m gonna tell you a secret. It’s a secret every parent figures out at some point and no one tells anyone about parenthood. A child is their meanest self with the person they love the most. He loves you Jack, adores you even. All he does is want to be like you. And you know what you are?” she asks, he turns to her giving her look. “You are the biggest mama’s boy there is. Where do you think he learned how to be one? Or the fact that he wants to play center ‘cause my daddy does.’ The boy loves you. He just is little. And yeah kids bounce back, but you have to remember that you and Iddy being apart is also a very big change for Zander. And that boy doesn't like change. Kind of like someone else I know.” She gives him a pointed look. 

“Who me?” he jokes for the first time since she got out on the deck. 

As they turn to head back inside she says “just think of it this way.. It’s like a right of passage for your kid saying they hate you. Well except usually it’s during the teenage years..” She jokes as Jack wraps his arm around her side giving her a hug. 

“Can I just say one thing?” 

“What?” Ellen asks. 

“This is definitely the worst Christmas.” Jack admits. 

“Yeah well Christmas joy is overrated. Why do you think we did more to celebrate Hanukkah while you were growing up?” Both of them laugh and head inside, Jack does feel better after he talks with his mom. Maybe it is true what they say, you are never too old for a mom talk and a hug.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Hi, can I please get Wally West x trans reader? Maybe something where the reader is feeling dysphoric and he comforts them, and also some dry humping?

Wally West x FTM reader

Headcanons

Readers vaguely based off of Daredevil, since I like that guy a lot. And the mental image of Wally and his gritty boyfriend is fun to me. Don’t correct me on if keystone city is right, idc.

Nobody could really tell when you and Wally started dating. You just happened to be a vigilante in Keystone city before Wally showed up after being kid flash and all that. His presence really messed up your mojo.

You were the devil incarnate, ready to break as many bones as it took, but you didn’t kill. That didn’t stop you from maiming folk though. Having Wally swoop by to bring people to the hospital and then be back to try and lecture you, really hurt your image.

You were there first though, so there was no way Wally was gonna stop you from doing what you had to do. In the beginning it was kind of like a new tomcat showing up in someone else’s territory.

You didn’t have the speed to be all over the city like Wally, so it was kind of accepted that hed take care of everything else when you were busy. People started begging for Wally to be the one to catch them doing a crime, since you’d break their kneecaps, and then nail them in the head with your billy club.

The relationship between you two was kind of a running joke in the league, especially in the Titans. They all knew that Wally thought you were hot in your own broody, horned way. Someone, probably Garfield, would joke about your suits matching, since you both were red. And yellow, if you wear the yellow and red daredevil suit.

You two were kinda like Batman and Superman, in a way. With you being broody, growly, the night, I am vengeance and will make you suffer the consequences. And Wally being easier going and lighter, full of jokes and hope.

That didn’t mean Wally couldn’t snap and get down and gritty if he needed to. That was probably when you started feeling attracted to him in return, when he couldn’t go easy on somebody who deserved it.

Up until this point you’d have picked up the changes in his pheromones and body heat, as well as his heartrate, which made you understand that he liked you. But it was after you smelled the blood on him and heard his blush rushing through his veins from an almost animalistic adrenaline that you started returning the feelings.

You guys probably date for months, if not a year before the league and the Titans figure it out. Wally would say something about needing to get back to the city since he had to make it in time for your anniversary dinner, and that’s when everyone would figure it out.

The two of you a very much opposites attract. Someone is gonna try to use your relationship with Wally to make you join the league, but he wards them off before you can break tall their teeth for even asking.

You being trans doesn’t matter much to Wally, outside of how it may affect your relationship. And by that I mean, if you for example don’t want him touching your torso or specific areas of your body, what wording to use, helping you with your T injections, so on and so forth.

Hes more perceptive than people think, at least after you guys have been dating a while. Hed start noticing the different signs that point at you feeling dysphoric. Like you going out for longer patrols because being the devil makes you feel more masculine. Or you wearing your binder for too long, if you need one of those.

I don’t think hes just gonna appear and demand answers, instead Wally has tried to figure out overtime what might help. He knows you aren’t the type to just talk about all your feelings and what can be done about it, so Wally would try to find other ways to be supportive and helpful.

You can always tell what he’s doing, since Wally starts going on about how handsome his boyfriend is, how manly you are and smell, how good your muscles look. Even if he’s buffer than you, you better expect him to drool over your muscles.

If you are fine with being touched, Wally would also just cuddle you when you have days where you struggle to look at yourself or even being in your own body. Hes always ready to talk or make changes if he can do anything to help, or just lay in silence if that’s what you need too, even if laying still for a longer time is difficult for a speedster.

Having a speedster boyfriend also means it’s easy to sense it’s him. Having the abilities you do, means you can point out any hero or villain you’ve met before, even in a crowd of a thousand. But the speedster’s connection to the speed force makes them so easy to point out.

It becomes a comfort for you, to feel the buzz that’s seemingly always present around Wally. It’s different around each speedster, but Wally is the most special out of all of them, to you anyways.

Having a speedster boyfriend also means you have access to something very few do, a boyfriend who can vibrate and who has close to no recovery period. This just means Wally is all over you on days where you are fine with that.

And if its one of those days where you want to get off to deal with dysphoria, you barely have to say anything before he’s on you, or beside you, or behind you.

Dysphoria means you don’t want to be touched skin on skin sometimes, and on days like this, good ol dry humping is just as good as anything else Wally could think up. Hes especially a fan when its him laying down and you on top.

It makes you seem so strong and in charge, even if your eyes can’t meet since well… you cant see like the average person. Wally is just giddy and almost buzzing out of his skin as you guys grind together, his hands shaking where they’re holding your hips.

Your heightened senses let you notice just how much he starts buzzing when he gets close. Other people would never notice until he’s just above to fall over the edge, but you can almost taste how his scent and pheromones start buzzing in the air when he’s turned on.

Hearing his heart race and his blood rushing through his body becomes a turn-on in its own way, just as much as grinding down on him and listening to him moan. Wally is also the type to kiss when you guys grind together, his tongue almost fizzy feeling against your own.

It becomes a lot easier to forget your dysphoria with a boyfriend like Wally, who does everything in his power to distract you from it, especially when he gets to rut against you and moan into your ear or neck. Just watch out for small sparks that might come off him, and that your senses don’t get too overwhelmed thanks to the speed force.