#and here we are... WELL IT SUITS HIM WELL!!! I LOVE IT!!!!! I LOVE THAT MAN

[katsu28]

operation mistletoe

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: all it takes is one meddling lando norris and some mistletoe at the mclaren holiday party for oscar and yourself to admit your true feelings for each other. (2.2k)

a/n: day two with osc! enjoy <3

“I don’t know why you won’t just tell him.” 

Lando is currently laying spread eagle on your kitchen floor, tossing a padel ball above his head while you shove a packet of popcorn into the microwave for your movie night. 

His question is out of the blue, but you know what he's talking about. Lando is wondering why you won’t tell a certain Aussie you both work with that you have feelings for him.

He’s been wondering for a while now, bordering on a year since you’d accidentally let it slip to him—almost half the time said Aussie has been part of McLaren. 

You scoff. “Have you sent it into the barriers too many times? That’s literally the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

“But why?” He presses, sounding exasperated. You can’t see him around the island counter, but you can imagine that squinty eyed, scrunchy nosed look he always gets when he doesn’t understand something. You’ve seen it almost overwhelmingly often in the few years you’ve been friends. 

“First of all, we work together. If I tell Oscar that I like him and he doesn’t like me back, I’d never be able to show my face at MTC ever again,” You reason, searching for a bowl to put the popcorn in once it's done. 

It’s actually something you’ve put quite a bit of thought into when weighing the pros and cons of telling Oscar about your feelings. 

“I’d have to find a new job, but that might take forever, so I’d have to move back in with my parents until I find one—if I find one—and I’m pretty sure my mum turned my bedroom into a yoga space the moment I’d left for uni, so I’d have to move into the basement. And then the job I find might not even be around here, so I’d have to move back out of my parents’ place and find another place to live, and you know how expensive things are in some cities! I’d have to find roommates, and I don’t really fancy living with strangers somewhere I don’t know.” 

Lando has taken a seat at the counter when you turn back around with the bowl in your hands, staring at you with the most unimpressed look you’ve ever seen gracing his dumb face. 

“I reckon you’re overthinking things just a smidge,” He says flatly. He thinks you’re being dramatic. You’d call it brainstorming possible worst scenarios. 

You scowl, dumping the freshly popped kernels into said bowl before shoving it towards him. “You don’t know that.” 

He shovels a mouthful of it into his mouth on your way to the couch, sprawling out the length of it with his socked feet in your lap. “I’m pretty sure he fancies you too.” 

“Did he tell you that?” You raise a brow, swatting his feet off you. 

“Well, no, but I’m very perceptive.” 

“I saw you once say excuse me to a mannequin in a race suit at MTC because you weren’t paying attention to where you were going.” 

“Oi, fuck you!” Lando huffs, donkey kicking you lightly in the thigh. “You promised you’d never bring that up again. All I’m saying is that you should just man up and tell him flat out.” 

“I should what?” 

“Shit, I mean—well. Woman up? I guess?” He wonders, squinting one eye shut. “I dunno, really, but still. You never know how he’ll react. Could turn out mint.” 

“Can we not talk about it anymore? Please?” You groan, letting your head tip back against the cushions. “I just feel a little pathetic right now.” You feel Lando pat your head. 

“You’re not pathetic. Love just sucks,” He says sympathetically. “But sure, we don’t have to talk about it right now.” 

-------

True to his word, Lando doesn’t bring it up for weeks. In hindsight, you should’ve taken it as a sign of him planning something, but you’ve been busy with other things. 

Nothing happens until the McLaren holiday party, right after the FIA awards in Rwanda. Someone yells your name from afar as you’re going for a second drink, and when you turn to see who it is, you spot Lando waving wildly at you, gesturing for you to come over. 

Before you can even say anything when you approach, he grabs your hand, dragging you down the corridor. He walks and walks and walks, still not saying a word despite your constant badgering. 

Finally, he stops and takes you by the shoulders, maneuvering you a few steps to one side, forward a few steps. Then he nods once, backing up with his hands out in front of him. “Do me a favor, just wait right here for a second.” 

“What? Lando, what’re you—”

“No, no, no, this is important, I promise. Just stay there. Maybe close your eyes too if you could, that’d be mint.” 

Despite your confusion, you oblige, squeezing your eyes shut. You hear his footsteps retreat, but then nothing for a suspiciously long time. Had he just stuck you here and run off like an absolute wanker? 

A shoulder bumps yours before you can jump to any more conclusions, and it startles you. 

“What the hell is going on?” You question, frowning. Nothing but silence. “Lando? Are you there?” 

“Erm, nope. Not Lando.” 

Fuck. You know that voice. That voice makes your heart do a stupid tap dance against your rib cage every time you hear it.

Your eyes fly open to meet an extremely familiar pair of brown ones. Oscar’s eyes. Oscar is standing right in front of you, looking just as confused as you feel. 

“Oscar!” You exclaim, feeling your face flame hot. 

You can’t help the surprise seeping into your voice. To see him there isn’t something you were expecting at all, and it certainly doesn’t help that he looks extremely handsome, almost glowing with happiness fresh off the end of a successful season for the team. The blue suit he has on clings to him in just the right ways, and his cheeks have a pink flush to them.

“Hi,” He says awkwardly. You aren’t quite certain what to do at the moment, or what even is happening right now. “Do you know what’s going on?” 

“I don’t, actually. Lando just told me to stay here and that he’d be right back,” You admit.

Oscar lets out a noise of acknowledgement from the back of his throat. “Yeah, same, he told me it was something important. I’m not sure where he went, though.” 

He brings up a good point. Where had Lando gone?

Your phone buzzes in your hand at that moment, Lando’s name flashing across the screen when you glance at it. “Hang on, he’s just texted me,” You inform Oscar, angling your phone towards him as if whatever the message says will explain everything. 

Lando: Look up. 

Both of you look up at the same time, and what you see makes your heart drop into your ass. 

A sprig of mistletoe dangles from a haphazardly tied piece of string attached to the beam above. 

That fucker. You’re going to kill him. You’re actually going to kill Lando Norris. 

“Is that—that’s not mistletoe, is it?” Oscar squints up at the tiny plant, tilting his head. 

“It is,” You sigh, fighting the urge to go find Lando and strangle him with your bare hands. “I want you to know I’ve had absolutely nothing to do with this. It was all your idiot teammate.” 

Oscar laughs a little bit, shoulders shaking. “No, I know it’s all him. He thinks he’s hilarious.” 

“He sure does.” 

“I don’t think anyone’s ever told him he’s not,” He replies. Then he shifts on his feet, reaching up to run a nervous hand through his hair. “You look really nice, by the way. Been meaning to tell you that all night, but there’s so many people here I couldn’t find you. Until now, it seems.” 

All night. Oscar has been looking for you all night, just to tell you that you look nice. He’s making it really hard not to fall for him a little bit more. 

“Thank you, Oscar. You clean up well too.” 

He looks down at himself, rocking back and forth on his heels a little. “You think so? I didn’t know if the two shades of blue were too much.” 

“No, they look great. Really.” 

A sudden silence blankets the two of you, and you hate it. You wish you were better at holding conversation, but with Oscar, all your thoughts seem to go right out the window. 

“We should go—” 

“D’you want to—” 

“Sorry, sorry, you first,” You insist, pressing your lips together. 

“Sure, yeah. I was just, uh, asking if you’d maybe want to…y’know.” He glances up at the mistletoe, then back to you, and if you aren’t mistaken, he looks a little hopeful. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to, of course. I’m not—I wouldn’t force you or anything. I just…yeah, we could, if that’s something you’d be into.” 

“Oh!” You blink at him owlishly, completely caught off guard by his suggestion. Oscar wants to kiss you. Is this real life, or has Lando just played the ultimate cruelest prank on you?

“Tradition-wise, and all. I heard you’re cursed with bad luck for years if you break it,” He adds hastily, rubbing at the back of his neck. 

“Definitely wouldn’t want that.” 

“Definitely not,” He echoes, bobbing his head. What comes out of his mouth next is entirely out of the blue. “Did you know the word mistletoe comes from two Anglo Saxon words? Mistel, which means dung, and tan, which basically means branch.” 

“No, I did not know that! That’s…very interesting,” You say enthusiastically, teeth digging into your bottom lip to quell the laugh threatening to spill out. If it were anyone else, you’d think it was quite weird, but Oscar’s word vomit is strangely endearing. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. It’s disgusting, and you didn’t ask. Erm, wow, I’m—” 

“Oscar.” 

“Yeah?” He squeaks, pale cheeks rosy with embarrassment. 

You push forward instead of saying anything else, pressing your lips against his briefly. It’s a split second kiss, but it’s all you can manage without feeling like you’re doing something monumentally stupid. Still, it’s enough to send a zip of something thrilling through your veins. 

When you pull back, Oscar’s eyes are wide, and immediately you think you’ve made a mistake. You open your mouth to blurt an excuse, an apology, anything, but he speaks before you can.

“Will you go out with me?” You falter at the sudden question, totally caught off guard, and it seems to make him panic. “Oh. Oh no. Did I get this completely wrong?” 

“No! No, you didn’t,” You say quickly, reaching out to take his hand. His shoulders slump in relief, fingers already tightening around yours. “I’d love to go out with you, Osc.” 

“Thank god, or this would’ve been really awkward,” He sighs. “Looks like Lando did something right today.” 

“For the first time in his life, probably.” 

“In all fairness, I don’t think I would’ve had the balls to ask you out otherwise,” Oscar admits sheepishly. You hum your agreement. It turns out Lando being a nosy meddler of a friend has its benefits sometimes. “Think we should thank him or something?” 

“Definitely not. His ego would get way too big.” 

Lando looks entirely too smug when the two of you return to the party, eyes immediately zeroing in on your joined hands. “I take it the mistletoe went over well?” 

“I dunno what you’re talking about.” You shrug casually, glancing over at Oscar to see him do the same. 

“Alright, fine. Be like that. You’re welcome, by the way. I expect a mad good Christmas present from both of you this year, I hope you know that.”

Oscar blinks. “But I already got you a set of tea towels.” 

“Ugh, spoiler!” Lando huffs, shoulders slumping. “Also, what are we—fifty? I mean, tea towels! Really, Osc?” 

“You said yours were ugly!” 

You make an offended noise from the back of your throat, furrowing your eyebrows. “I got you those towels for secret santa two years ago, you asshole.” 

“You did? Jesus, you two really are meant for each other,” Lando snorts, shaking his head. 

Oscar just grins over at you, giving a little tilt of his head as if to say great minds think alike. 

“By the way, we’ve got to get onstage soon, so if you’d stop making goo goo eyes at each other so we could get a move on, that’d be great.” 

“Oh. Alright.” Oscar’s smile fades as his gaze flicks back to you, seemingly displeased that he has to leave you so soon. “D’you mind if I…” 

“Go on, bring out the trophy. I’ll be right here,” You assure him, stepping in to drop a chaste kiss to his cheek.

Once they’re onstage little while later, Oscar’s already found you in the crowd, and as they lift the impressive trophy high in the air, he’s only looking at you, beaming so unbelievably bright it might just rival the sun. You smile right back at him, the pride you have both for this team and the two boys onstage just barely contained. 

This night marks the start of new beginnings, both for McLaren and for your relationship with a certain Aussie. And just like the 2025 season, you’re excited to see what next year will hold. 

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[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Champagne Problems

♥ masterlist | request rules | 12 days of ficmas

♥ pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

♥ synopsis: the two of you end up at a party with different intentions

♥ wc: 2k - as always none of the pictures are mine

♥ warnings: swearing, angst, and alcohol (drink responsibly please lol) !!!

♥ a/n: TONS of angst in this fic so get ready lol <3 i've been wanting to put out this fic for SO long you don't understand. tagging bestie @theonottsbxtch

Charles was head over heels in love with you—it was a shame, really.

You sat on your shared king sized bed in a sparkly dress, observing your boyfriend as he slipped on a gold watch. 

“We need to leave soon mon amour,” he said, wandering over to you and kissing your cheek. “We don’t want to be late, do we?”

You nodded and adjusted the jewelry on your hand.

Charles folded the cuffs on his sleeve, “You alright?”

“Mhm,” you nodded with a fake smile.

You hadn’t seen Charles in months because of his work. Ironically the first place he wanted to take you was a gala... For his work.

The two of you met because of your love for F1. The narrative of Ferrari brought you together and despite his promises to be there for you, he always left them unfulfilled.

You were alone. Way too often. Left by yourself to take care of Leo and be his wag.

You and Charles wandered outside the apartment to his car. He opened the door for you—like a gentleman. But you couldn’t shake this melancholic feeling whenever you’re around him.

-

”Hey, where’s Charles?” Arthur, your boyfriend’s younger brother asked with a smile.

You shrugged, taking a sip of your drink, and gazing at the room full of talkative people. The second you got there he wandered off to find Pierre. You couldn’t even blame him. This was for business after all.

”Hm, that’s odd. I’d expect him to be with you.” he scrunched his nose. “I remember one time last year—he was so excited to come home for winter break and see you. He would talk about you all day to me on the phone,” Arthur chuckled.

You gave him a faint smile. That was the Charles you fell in love with. Alas, he was across the room talking to someone else’s girlfriend.

“Well, let me know if you see him. I’ll see you in a few weeks for Christmas, yeah?”

You swallowed hard, pausing before a response.

“Yeah, yeah of course,” you smiled with a nod.

“Great, Maman said she already got you gifts,” he laughed. “I’ll see you around Y/n.”

He nudged your shoulder with an infectious smile, wandering off with a drink in hand.

God, why did this have to hurt so fucking much.

-

“Thank you all for being here,” a man said into a microphone, commanding the room to silence. “It has been an incredible season, but now we must start planning for the next one. Thank you to all our sponsors who are able to make this happen and congratulations to all that we have done this year.”

He raised his glass of champagne, leading everyone to follow and clink theirs together. You sat at a round table with your closest friends from the industry, Pierre and Kika as Charles got up to ask the man at the front of the room something. He came back with the microphone in hand and turned it on.

He stared down at you, eyes peering lovingly into your soul.

“Y/n… you are the most beautiful, kind, intelligent woman I have ever met,” he spoke into the mic, elicting a few ‘awh’s’ from the crowd and drawing at least a hundred eyes to you.

Charles slowly bent down, grabbing something out of his suit pocket.

Your eyes widened and you tried to say something but you couldn’t. Every word was trapped in your mouth, despite your jaw being on the floor. Plenty of gasps and whispers came from the room. You could see Kika’s eyes light up, clearly ecstatic for you.

“I don’t really have a whole speech planned,” he laughed softly. “All I can really say is how much I love you… Will you marry me?”

He flicked the ring box open, revealing a gold ring with a huge diamond.

You paused, trying your best to take in everything that has happened before shaking your head.

“Charles… can we talk about this somewhere else?” you whispered.

Charles' expression dropped instantly. He knows what that really means.

More gasps. More gossip.

Clearly the whole room knew what it meant too.

“Is she fucked in the head?” you heard someone from the crowd whisper.

Followed by, “If she won’t marry him I will,” and “What a shame.”

”I’m sorry Charles, I’m gonna get a Lyft.” you whispered, squeezing his hand.

Kika looked at Pierre completely stunned. This was certainly not how the two of them thought the night was going to go. This was certainly not how you thought the night was going to go.

Kika’s heels clicked on the tile floor as she ran after you, pushing the two glass doors open to find you sprinting down the long set of stairs.

“Y/n, wait!” she shouted after you.

You sat at the bottom step, waiting for your ride to arrive.

She stopped beside you, “I can drive you home,” she mumbled.

“That’s alright, I already paid for it.”

She sat down beside you and put a warm hand on your shoulder.

“Are you okay?” she whispered.

You grabbed her hand gently, feeling the coldness of her gold rings. You shook your head no.

She wrapped an arm around your shoulder, forcing your head to rest on her shoulder.

She kissed your head sweetly, “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered in your hair.

-

You tossed your things on a table right next to the front door and kicked off your heels. You strut over to your kitchen and opened the fridge in hopes to find more alcohol. You were already probably drunk on Dom Perignon and your own tears, but with everything going on you might as well try to forget the horrendous night.

You grabbed a small glass from a cabinet and closed the fridge door, flinching when you saw Charles standing in the dark.

“Jesus Christ, Charles…” you whispered, pouring yourself some straight Vodka.

You braced your hands on the side of the marble counter, closing your eyes. Maybe if you close them tight enough he’ll disappear.

You sighed, “I don’t know how to start this conversa-“

“You said no?” he whispered. You could hear the heartbreak in his words.

You swallowed hard, looked around the room—anywhere but his eyes.

“I never said no…” you trailed off.

“But you meant no, right?”

You thought about marrying him before. A lot, actually. Racing, Traveling, Family. But there was always one thing missing from every daydream. And that thing was Charles.

You can’t follow him around the country for his job and even if you did—is that who you wanted to be? Just the wife of Charles Leclerc? 

“I don’t think you can truly be committed to this relationship. This isn’t what I need, and that’s okay.”

“I can't truly be committed?” he scoffed. “I'm not truly committed enough to get down on one knee?” 

Your relationship this past year wasn’t what you wanted. But one day it will be what someone else wants, and that’s what he deserves.

��C’mon Y/n, I love you-“ he muttered.

“Love isn't always enough,” you whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear.

Ah, the painful truth.

You watched as his face dropped, fully taking in the cruelness of your words. 

“Charles, I’m sorry…” you whispered, tears forming in your eyes. 

“Just go. Foutez le champ de chez moi, I don’t want to see you right now.” (translation: get the fuck out of my house) he muttered harshly. 

-

It’d been a year since you last saw him. That night you packed up all your things as he slept at Arthur’s. You were gone by the time he got home.

You still spent time in the F1 scene. You had friends there too, but it still felt a little cruel. You didn’t fall out of love, at least not with someone like Charles—that doesn’t happen. 

If the circumstances were different you might have been married. You would’ve had a beautiful ring, a beautiful family, and a beautiful man. 

“Y/n,” Kika shouted through a laugh, half sprinting in her heels. Her right hand settled on your bicep and her left took your forearm, yanking you towards a group of women. 

“C’mon, I haven't seen you in months,” she said, causing you to crack a smile. You rolled your eyes and slipped off your bar stool, ready to get a little tipsy with your friends. She was right. It had been way too long since you had a girls night. The last one was before you lost your status as a wag. 

Today it was you, Kika, and Rebecca—all in elegant outfits that perfectly fit your vibes. Kika in a black long sleeve, off the shoulder neckline number, Becs in a sparkly red one that she luckily got to keep after modeling, and you in a short white satin dress with spaghetti straps and some matching white heels. 

“You look like you need a drink,” Rebecca said, looking you up and down. 

You sighed, “I haven’t been to an F1 event since you know…” 

She rolled her eyes, “That's exactly why you need a drink. Forget about him and have fun with us. Your favorite sport should not be attached to the memory of a man.” 

Great point. 

“Come here,” she dragged you back to the bar Kika pulled you from. 

She ordered three martini’s on the rocks, extra olives.

She handed you one of the glasses, “We’re going to meet up with Lily M and Carmen in about an hour alright? We’ll be out of this place in no time and you won’t even think about you know who.” 

“Where are we going?” you asked, sipping the drink with your eyebrows raised. 

“It's a surprise,” Kika said with an eye roll as if to say “duh”. 

You spent the next hour drowning in new conversations and shots. Sure you were at someone’s work party, but it’s not like you had to be professional. No one seemed to give a shit what Charles’ “Ex Wag” was doing.

“Carmen and Lily are outside, are we ready to go?” Rebecca asked, peering up from her phone. 

“Yeah, I just need to find the bathroom and then we can go,” you lied, grabbing your clutch off the circular table. 

You wanted to step outside and get a quick bit of fresh air before you returned to the group. They were doing something amazing in order for you to move on from your past relationship, but all you could think about was something you shouldn’t be. 

It's been a year, you should be over him, right? Too bad the pain didn’t stop at Charles. It was his whole family. God, you missed Arthur so much. You missed fighting with him about what Christmas movies to watch and hanging out in the Ferrari garage together. You missed Lorenzo and his older brother-like wisdom. You missed Pascale and how she welcomed you with open arms into the family. Fuck, you felt like a traitor. 

You sighed and wandered off onto the balcony, picking at the rhinestones on your purse. You leaned over the railing, letting the cool wind kiss your skin. 

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” an accented voice said from behind you. You would recognize it anywhere. 

Charles took his place beside you, avoiding eye contact. It took a good minute before you were able to respond. 

“I- uhm… I heard you and your new girlfriend broke up. I'm sorry,” you muttered. What an odd way to start this conversation. You weren’t even sure if it was true, you heard it in a tabloid. 

He hummed, “I suppose love wasn’t enough to save us.” 

Ouch. 

You scoffed, “Yeah I guess not.” 

The silence was loud. 

“Sorry,” he whispered in a change of tone. Maybe even a change of heart. “It’s good to see you again.” 

“Yeah,” you whispered back, unenthusiastic. 

“The family misses you.” 

You smiled slightly. That was good to hear. “You can tell them I miss them too.” 

“...I miss you.” 

He placed his hand on top of yours slowly, gently rubbing his thumb across yours. His cold silver rings brought flashbacks to your mind.

You looked up at him, tears begging to fall from your lashes but you kept it together; at least until he was gone. 

You squeezed his hand like you used to, “‘l’ll see you around, Charles.” 

You had to remind yourself why you said no everyday. It didn’t matter if you loved him and it didn’t matter if he loved you. You won’t settle for second in his life.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

taglist; @sainzzreputaticn @theseerbetweenus @yawn-zi

[hyunsvngs]

𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚, 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 - han jisung x fem!reader

wc: 2.4k

a/n: pwp based off of two images i saw of jisung's boobs in concert and then i went haywire and wrote THIS... MERRY CHRISTMAS !!! 🎄🎅 please read the warnings! 18+ SMUT MDNI!!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: ROLEPLAY where jisung is santa for no particular reason, nipple play (m rec), oral (m rec), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie (i’m having a white christmas!), dirty talk, overall kind of not extreme but maybe a bit of d/s dynamics (both switchy)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

you don’t know what game you’re playing tonight.

jisung’s due back home any minute now. he’s been gone a few hours, last minute christmas shopping with friends, and he claimed he had a surprise for you. you asked to go with, claiming you needed to get a few things too, but jisung had simply told you he had a plan. it’s unusual behaviour for him, but he’s always doing sweet things for you - this could just be another one of those times.

still, you’re bent underneath the tree placing presents in nothing but your nightie and some fuzzy socks. you’ve had to light the fireplace to warm yourself up, but jisung always likes it when it’s cozy anyway. you expect that he’ll arrive home tired, but wanting, from the infrequent texts he’d sent you about missing you. there’s nothing you like more than snuggling with your favourite person on your favourite holiday, even if he does get a little too warm too quickly and ends up being more of a human radiator than anything else. 

once you’ve finally found places for all of the gifts, you’re able to wriggle yourself outwards. with the multicoloured lights on and the fireplace lit, along with your many other trinkets… well, it may look like christmas has exploded in your living room. still, you’ve always loved christmas. you adjust a little santa ornament on your fireplace and allow yourself to lay on the couch, pulling a thick blanket over your body. it’s comfortable.

unfortunately it may be a little too comfortable. you appear to have dropped off, because when you wake up it’s a little darker outside. you hear the click of the lock, the sound of the door swinging open and heavy boots stomping in. you sit up, drowsy with sleep but ready to greet your boyfriend. 

a few hums are heard from the door, soft and melodic, and you smile. it’s nice. you push yourself up, padding over to the front door, and- oh. 

santa’s here.

sure, he looks a little different. under the fluffy white beard and velvet red costume you can catch glimpses of him. a snippet of black ink across honey toned skin when he moves, the sight of his chain dangling beneath the fabric - it’s him, your santa claus, you know it, and suddenly it all makes sense.

“santa!” you grin, walking over to wrap your arms around his middle. he lets out a small ‘ooph’, pretending he’s winded, but two toned arms wrap around your frame right back. “you’re here! early, too.”

“i had to be early for my favourite girl,” you feel the rumble of his chest when he speaks against your ear, and you nuzzle the fabric of his suit. over the time you’ve known your santa, you’ve learned he can be a little sleazy - you’re pretty sure he’s making his voice deeper on purpose, and his fingertips are already tugging up on your nightie to check if you have panties on. it doesn’t surprise you. “why don’t we go take a seat?”

you’re guided back over to your sleeping spot with a firm palm on your back, and you realise he’s got his gloves on too, black faux leather that you can feel even through your nightie. you stumble a little and santa catches you, using the position to sit down and pull you down with him.

one of those sinful gloved hands come up to push your hair out of your face. it feels a little fucked up you’re getting aroused over this, over fucking around with someone who isn’t really your boyfriend, but he meets your gaze with his own. the look in his eyes lets you know that it’s all intentional. “have you been nice this year, baby?”

“i’ve been so nice this year, santa,” you wiggle onto his lap, legs splaying over the side. you receive a gummy smile in return and the feeling of his hand moving up your thigh. it’s sleazy, and you’re slicking up already. it smears against your thighs. “don’t you remember? just last week, i fingered your asshole until-“

“al-right,” he stammers. “doing naughty things isn’t very nice, y’know?! it’s actually the polar opposite. hah, polar.”

his facade is cracking, and you giggle, letting your hands run over his chest. you can feel the muscles beneath his suit. “i thought it was nice, santa. you seemed to like it. a lot, actually, if the noises were telling at all.”

“u-um, you’re not- this isn’t how this is meant to go,” his eyes are wide and ever so brown, the multicoloured lights bouncing off of them. he looks so earnest, almost innocent - if you’re pretending you can’t feel his cock hardening underneath your ass. “i’m meant to- you’re- baby.”

you’re already moving, swinging your legs back over to kneel on the floor in front of him. despite his protesting, he’s letting you, always pliant. his arms fall to his sides and his knees kick apart. his boots make a heavy thud on the wooden floor, the same platform boots you thought he’d retired years ago, and you want to ask him about them but he’s moving your hands to his cock. 

while your santa is pliant, you are too, and you give in.

you pull his trousers down, letting the waistband snap just underneath his balls. the pressure pushes his cock upright for you, hard and plump and leaky, and you engulf it with your mouth without a further thought.

“this is why y-you’re my favourite,” he gasps shakily, thighs spreading further. with a flick of his hand, the red velvet jacket falls open, and you’re met with the tattooed honey skin you’ve been craving all along. he’s built, chest plump enough to make your mouth water, and he rubs his thumb over his nipple while you suckle on his cockhead. “that’s it, my sweet baby. suck santa’s cock, just like that.”

your jaw aches already, head reeling from how fast everything is going. you pull off with a wet pop, and with your spare hand you stroke the shaft erratically, your spit acting as lubricant. it’s all too wet for him and his hips buck upwards into your grip. a sharp whine leaves his lips, preceding the heavy breaths that he lets out. 

you can’t help but let your other hand move down to his balls, running over the taut skin there. his thighs shake, and you pump harder, squeezing deliberately to watch how precum forms on the head.

“come and kiss me,” he orders, pushing your hand away to replace it with his own. he looks the image of debauched, cockhead ruddy red and sensitive, and he pulls you upwards impatiently to his mouth. you’re laying over him like this, tits pressed against his through your nightie, and he finally leans up to press his lips against yours. immediately, the kiss is filthy, his tongue pressing into your mouth with the deep moans and muffled noises he lets out at the feeling of his own grip. 

it’s not long before he’s pushing the same gloved hand past your nightie again, wet from your spit and his precum, finding that you definitely are not wearing panties. he moans into your mouth again, digits finding where you’re wet and aching for him. his lips clack against yours messily as he pushes two fingers inside of you - it’s just a precaution, not meant to be anything more than a quick stretch. still, when your fingers scrabble for purchase on his chest and your nails dig into the plump flesh, he finally pulls away from the kiss and sinks a third finger inside of you. the faux leather is warm from his natural body heat, and you gasp, hips grinding into his palm rhythmically. 

“f-fuck, that’s- you’re stretching my pussy out so good, santa,” you keen, keeping your words filthy because you know how he likes it. as you expected, he groans, head tossing back against the sofa and causing his hat to slide onto one side. his cock aches, pressing against your thigh. you can’t help but rub against it just to be cheeky, and his thumb comes to your clit as a punishment. “o-oh! oh, santa, please, will you give- give me more? i want your cock, please!”

“yeah, of course, my baby, of course, just- get this off? get it off,” he’s impatient, gripping at your nightie and pulling it each and every way until you finally sit back and yank it off of your body. instead of wasting any time, your santa is shifting forward, letting his fingers slip from your soaked hole. 

he slides inside at the same time his pouty lips envelop your nipple. he’s always been engrossed with your chest, just as much as you are with his. while he’s letting you adjust, his hands move to your ass and squeeze the flesh, eyes fluttering shut as if he’s sated just being inside of you - you know him better than that, though. once you’ve readjusted the red hat on his head, you start to move your hips.

“oh, that’s it,” it’s muffled against your chest, but you hear it, along with the deep groan that leaves his chest. he tries to remain in control, hips moving against yours. “this fuckin’ pussy. been needin’ it all day, baby, you don’t even know.”

“that’s why you came early, santa, right?” you say shakily. the trimmed hairs at the base of his cock rub against your clit in a way that has your eyes watering, and you quicken the pace, pussy clenching down on his shaft. “needed your baby’s pussy too bad. it’s here now, santa, why don’t you just take it?” 

“fffuck,” he leans back on his forearms, nodding, eyes scrunched shut. you can tell he wants to take, to force your pussy to take his thick cock, but the feeling of it all is too pleasurable to think. he’s always been a bit too sensitive. you can tell it’s not going to be a long one already, and your hand snakes down to rub fast circles on your clit. “ah, it’s so- it’s so wet, baby, so wet around my cock.”

you moan, moving like a woman possessed, hips rutting into a fast bounce that has him pistoning in and out of you. it’s then that he takes a little more control, grip moving back to your ass to bounce you on top of him. his cock hits deeper like this when he’s pulling you back and forth, and your toes curl in your socks, nose scrunching at the wet sounds reverberating throughout the room. it really is so wet, and you only have your santa to blame.

your hand slaps over your clit just after he opens his eyes, and they narrow, fixating on your pussy. his chest is heaving, and then in a split move, he’s pushing you down flat onto the sofa.

“keep rubbing it, keep- keep going, i need to cum,” he babbles, shaking his head. he’s out of it, and both gloved hands pin your hips down so he can take it from you. his hips move erratically, balls slapping against your skin, and with one hand you do exactly as he said, rubbing the little bundle of nerves until you’re wailing into his neck. the other hand splays against his stomach, almost as if you’re pushing him back, but he’s too strong for that. “it’s- me, now baby, talk to me. talk to hannie, my baby, c’mon.”

“h-hannie,” you hiccup, tears biting at your eyes. “‘s so good, jisungie, baby. i think i’m gonna cum.”

“yeah? why don’t you cum for me?” jisung questions. the white pom pom of his hat swings in front of his eyes, but jisung’s fed up by now, ripping the fabric from his head and tossing it to the side. it’s nice to see him properly, his face unobscured by taunting red fabric, and he gives you a gummy smile.

the sincerity of him, your boyfriend, your one true love is ultimately what does you in. your gummy walls clench around him, finally letting go, and your fingers slide messily across your clit until you’re finished crying through your orgasm. jisung isn’t far behind, and his lips come to kiss your forehead as he holds you close and pumps you full of his cum.

unceremoniously, jisung collapses with another ‘ooph’, sweaty chest pressing against yours. you know it’s intense for him to cum so quickly, and you run your nails up his back underneath the jacket to soothe him. he hums and wiggles his hips around in glee, as if he’s not still inside of you.

“so,” you yawn, letting your nails run down to scratch over his ass. jisung’s hips buck into you this time. “where did the santa idea come from?”

jisung leans back and rubs your nose with his, giggling. “no idea. it wasn’t even the original plan.”

“it wasn’t?” you gasp, attempting to sit up. “then what was it?”

“what was what?” jisung furrows his eyebrows. you groan.

“what was the original plan, jisungie?”

“oh, that!” he slides out of you, and you try not to giggle at the way he surges off of the sofa with his dick still out. “i’ll show you, just wait there!”

you really do giggle when he runs out of the door, tripping over his trouser legs. you think he’s going to return with the surprise, but then he pokes his head round the door, that same wide grin on his face. 

“merry christmas by the way, my baby. i love you.”

[chanranghaeys]

🥂 a tale of two lonely souls

pairing: idol!minghao x gn!bar owner!reader word count: 1.4k+ genre: fluff rating: pg tags: christmas fic, open ending, meet cute in a bar, yes it’s yet another slice of life from me, minghao is cocky as always but you’ll love it bc reader will make minghao realize he’s found his match at cockiness warnings: alcohol, drinking, mentions of multi-race parents, reader owns a bar in this setting a/n: i’m so honored to be part of @camandemstudios’ A Very Seventeen Christmas Secret Santa event for this year and surprise @ylangelegy, i’m your secret santa! 🥳 bless u kae, here’s a little gift for you for making me feel so many things this year bc of your fics 🫶 merry christmas and happy holidays to y’all!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ masterlist . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“All alone on Christmas Day?”

The hooded figure at the bar looked up from their phone. You notice their fingernails painted in shades and lines of black and glitter that glinted under the lights. When the figure pulled down their hood and face mask, you realize that the man looked startlingly familiar. You just couldn’t place from where…

“Maybe,” he replied. A slight smile graced his features, a welcome warmth from his initially cold aura.

“Well, that makes the two of us alone on Christmas.” The place was empty, save for two tables with a few customers—one large group, two duos, and this man on the bar counter.

It was a few hours before the end of Christmas Eve, and this recently opened Asian fusion bar had yet to welcome its throng of guests. In hindsight, maybe setting it up in a more secluded area of Itaewon wasn’t the best decision.

“If that's the case then maybe we’re not alone.” He gestures his finger between the two of you. You roll your eyes at the attempt to lighten the mood.

“It’s okay. I’m used to it.”

“Used to what?” He tilts his head curiously.

“Being alone.”

“Why not change it then?” He steeples his hands and rests his chin on them, his eyes studying yours as if trying to decipher a puzzle—as if he was used to analyzing people quietly.

It was unsettling…but you liked the challenge.

“Well, why don’t you change?” You counter back at him.

“Change what?”

“You being alone.”

He snickers. “Why don’t you get me something to drink first?”

“Alright, Mr. Bossy,” you say with a raised eyebrow and a matching smirk. “What are you having?”

“I heard you have Kweichow Maotai. That’s the only reason why I’m here.”

Interesting. He’s a man of taste. The way the Chinese syllables easily rolled off his tongue gave you further evidence of his identity—you just needed one more clue.

Without a word, you turn to face the wall of bottles to find the spirit you’re looking for. But before reaching for the iconic white-and-red bottle, you stop yourself.

“You know what, it’s Christmas.” You turn back to him with a smile. “I’ll get you something special.”

You return with another bottle of Maotai—but he instantly recognizes the difference from the one at the bar. His eyes widened the moment you came in holding the gold bottle tied with a red ribbon.

“No way you have that.” He marveled at the sight in front of him, his eyes filled with seeming reverence. “How—”

“That is a story for another time. But now, please enjoy. I’ll just charge you the regular Maotai rate, don’t worry.” You wink and hand him the small tulip glass, full to the brim.

“Just tell me that I’m not drinking a shot of illegally-sourced vintage Maotai.” There it is again—the analyzing look.

“If it were, then I’d be out of business. Can’t have that then, can we?”

“Of course not.” The man raised his glass to meet your own. “I can’t lose my favorite Maotai supplier in Korea now that I’ve found you.” The light brought the ring on his pinky finger to your attention. Suspicion confirmed.

You didn't reply, but opted to down the contents of the small glass—potent but familiar. He followed suit. You hoped that the warmth that bloomed in your mouth and your chest didn’t manifest itself too much on your cheeks. You could blame it on your Asian flush anyway because you had to give it to him—he was surprisingly smooth with his words.

“This is the rare moment I get to be alone,” he said after a beat. “Believe me, I wish I had more of it, but my parents are arriving here tomorrow from China. So no, I will not be as alone as you think.”

It took you a moment to realize he was continuing the conversation from earlier. “That’s nice. Why are you here in Korea then, if you’re from China?”

“Who said I was from there?”

“Well, you have parents coming from there.”

“Who’s to say that they aren’t coming home here?”

“The way you said Kweichow Maotai was too smooth.”

He shrugged deliberately. “I know Chinese.”

“I know Chinese, too. You can’t fool me.” You said this in perfectly placed Mandarin. The look on his face was priceless as he was rendered speechless.

“I cannot believe you managed to surprise me twice in one night,” he replied in the same tongue.

You smirked and poured another tulip glass for the both of you. “Glad to know that I managed to surprise a K-pop idol tonight. And in my bar, no less. Xu Minghao, correct?” You push the refilled glass and meet his ever-analytical eyes. It seemed like you knew how to play his game, after all.

The smile he returned was ethereal. “To whom do I owe the pleasure of tonight’s company?”

And that’s how you spent the remaining hours of Christmas Eve, with conversations as free-flowing as the Maotai and whiskey and bar chow. You learned that his parents’ flight was actually delayed—he was actually on his way to the airport—and he learned that your Chinese is courtesy of your father’s heritage and your Korean address from your mother.

You also ended up telling him the story about the vintage Maotai, which had him in stitches by the end of it. Thankfully, the bar had long been empty and your staff had all gone home.

“Why haven’t you left then?”

“You might’ve forgotten that I own this place.”

“And how does it not have more customers at this time?”

“It’ll pick up soon. I’m sure of it.”

Minghao pursed his lips in thought. “Give me your Maotai bottle. And a marker.”

“The vintage one?”

“No, the regular one over there!” You obliged to his requests, and he returned the liquor bottle with a freshly minted autograph from Seventeen’s The8.

Why didn’t you think of this earlier? It might be because the whole time you were talking, he didn’t even seem like an idol. He was just…a guy. A frustratingly charming and quick-witted guy.

“Merry Christmas to you and this wonderful place.” His examining gaze was long gone, replaced by eyes that disappeared whenever he smiled wide. “Thank you for…making me feel safe.”

“Merry Christmas, Minghao. Everything’s on the house. Consider it a Christmas gift.”

“Absolutely not.” He brandished his card and pushed it to you. “I will not rip off a starting business all because of celebrity status.”

“I didn’t say it was for your celebrity status.”

“Still.” He was insistent. He took your hand and placed his card in it. “Charge me as necessary.”

You were just as insistent, though. “No.”

“Fine. Then give me your phone.”

You did. And he input his personal number in it.

“I have to go now, but please message me. I mean it.”

You did. And the back-and-forth banter didn’t stop. Surprise remained an element in your dynamic, apparently, because the conversations seemed as natural as the days transitioning from one to another.

You didn’t catch when Minghao took photos of your place. But the moment he posted it on his Instagram, customers started coming in waves. This secluded corner in Itaewon has never had a lull day since Christmas.

New Year’s was no different. After the festivities and the celebrations, it was finally time to call it an early morning at 3 am. But not before you welcomed your last customer.

“Alone on New Year’s as well?” You hold back a smile when you find him standing at the door. The way your heart was beating was undeniable, and you knew you couldn’t hold that back.

Up until then, you didn’t know if you would ever see Minghao again beyond your messages. They became more occasional as time passed, but you knew enough from his stories that their schedules were not to be underestimated. Seeing him here now was—as expected from your dynamic—a surprise.

“No. I’m with my favorite Maotai supplier in Korea, how can I be alone?” He drew closer to the bar and to you as if you were reeling him in with an invisible string.

“I thought your parents brought you a bottle last Christmas?”

“It isn’t a vintage Maotai, though.”

“What makes you think I’m bringing it out tonight?”

“Because we’re starting the new year together. I’d say that’s a cause for celebration.” And bring it out you did. As if you could resist him.

Before you can open the bottle, he grabs it from your hands to pour out the drinks himself. As you two raise your glasses, he leans in close, and you see nothing but an openness in his eyes. Warmth. Hope. “Happy New Year to you, then.”

“To us. Happy New Year, Minghao.”

Your glasses clink and your Maotais are downed. It would seem that happiness is on the books for the year ahead.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

post a/n: pleaseeee i felt so pressured to write for u (looks at my inbox with full knowledge your request still lies there unwritten fskf) ((i promise i’ll get to them)) but i hope i did minghao justice. i was very much inspired by your own minghao fics skl hehe and tbh this is almost less of a drabble and more of a potentially longer fic but i held back bc gah. merry christmas again and i hope you liked my pamasko, kae! 🎄🎁✨

post post a/n/n: ALSO thank you to @tusswrites for quick beta-ing this one even tho she wasn't supposed to bc she's also in the same event and apparently you can't do that HAHA thank you still all love mwa

[nayaesworld]

Mafioso

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Warnings: Murder, manipulation, drugs and violence

Terry Richmond X OC!Marina

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The collective clink of champagne glasses filled the large venue as self-made millionaire and philanthropist Terry Richmond concluded his speech at the second annual charity event for Black women and children. Thunderous claps and cheers bounced off the walls as he exited the stage and came down to thank each and every single person that had come out to support and donate to the amazing cause. He was elated and proud of the turnout; truly grateful.

At 43 Terry felt at the height of his career. The comings and goings of life reflected well on his face and he carried all those trials and triumphs with him on his sleeve next to his heart. His story was a story of the people.

The night was a huge success. A large volume of high profile people had pledged and donated to this cause right along with him. Close family and friends came out in support and he circled around the room checking in on them and taking breaks to hit a shimmy or two on the dance floor.

He had also allowed some of his favorite black journalists and reporters to give interviews, but he was most interested in one in particular that had been very vocal and fierce about the safety of black children in spaces that society deemed not fit for them. How many times had a black child been harmed or put in a traumatic situation due to racism? Far too many times to count and they deserved a space to perfect their crafts without fear or judgement.

Marina Evans was a woman of poise, integrity, and culture, and at 25 she was at the top of her game. Not many could deny her journalistic credentials. She was the first person he wanted to give an interview to tonight and he sought her out quickly through the sea of people. The bold black gown had been a wondrous choice against her bronzed skin. Honey blond braids highlighting the warm undertones of her skin and dark expressive eyes styled with a natural set of wispy lashes. She was a show stopper. A true beauty.

She had just ended an interview with Weston Troy, a filthy rich middle aged man that owned a few hospitals in the area. Her eyes drifted over to him and she began to set up for his interview. A warm welcoming smile graced her face and he made sure to return it. Cameras and microphone ready, Terry adjusted his black suit and freed his mind.

“Tonight I am here speaking with local philanthropist and founder of ‘Hearts of Grace’ a charity founded to give aid and relief to underprivileged families…and without further ado I’d like to welcome Mr. Terry Richmond. How are you feeling about the turnout tonight… did you project the earnings for year two to surpass year one by so much?”

“ I’m feeling amazing tonight, the turnout was more than I could have ever imagined. When I initially started this charity I had no idea that anyone would ever give money to the cause at such a high volume, it's too often that things within the affiliation of the black community are not taken seriously or into consideration… I would like to change that, and with all the resources at my hand I'd be foolish not to invest it into people who look like me and sound like me.”

“I love that, what you did here tonight was jaw dropping. The kind of things I want to see more of, what does it mean for you to give back and support black families,businesses, and neighborhoods?” He pondered a bit before answering and pulled his lip from his teeth.

“It means that I have an opportunity to cater to and serve these underprivileged families, I too come from very humble beginnings. I grew up in a single parent household, it was just me and my mother so sharing this wealth with many people is top priority.”

“Terry, that is just amazing, I’m excited for more people to hear your story… for you it's been a long time coming, but for many of us this is our first time seeing someone who we relate to so much do as many great things as you have…and that brings me to my next question. How does being a role model to the younger generation speak to you?” Her questions were definitely living up to her reputation, she asked the real shit and he paused to gather his words, this was a passionate subject for him so finding the right words was essential.

“Being a role model for the younger generation entails a particular type of character and finesse… I want them to know that yes hard work and dedication can afford you the luxuries of life, but I also want them to understand that mental health is just as important um..if not more important than any career field or industry they choose.”

“I also saw that you named your charity after your mother Grace, how does it feel tonight to share this with her… I’m sure she is so proud of you.”

“My mother means the world to me…for any time I was ever in trouble or needed her she picked up the phone, she lifted me up, and she molded me into the man I am today. I don’t care how old I get or how many things I achieve, I'll always be her baby.”

“It was such a pleasure to interview you tonight, I thank you so much for taking the time out of your busy schedule to allow me to talk and pick your brain.” Marina had interviewed many men and women of different backgrounds and profiles, but none had ever struck her as truly genuine people quite as he did. He truly meant those words.

“Oh no anytime..you’ve had the best questions I thank you for that. And when I’m ready for another interview I know how to find you, thank you for coming out tonight Ms.Evans I truly appreciate it.” Terry left it plainly at that. He didn’t wanna seem weird by telling the young girl that he was an avid viewer of her podcast and hadn’t missed any episodes thus far.

The night carried on and people filled their bellies to the brim with liquor and a catered banquet of savory mouth watering food. Terry was on his second plate of food and had been cackling loudly in his mothers ear, all tipsy and giggly from the constant glasses of champagne.

“Boy you are just tickled to death ain’t you, what’s so funny son?” He rested his head onto her shoulder and squeezed her into a warm hug.

“I’m just happy ma..that’s it. Tonight turned out amazing and I get to honor you right along with it..I hope you’re proud.”

“Son is proud even the word for what I feel? You make me ecstatic, I hoped and prayed for so many long nights for you to have something…anything to call your own, and look at you now.” Grace pressed a kiss to her son's forehead before standing from her seat.

“Walk your mama to her car, I’m going to turn in for the night.”

Terry walked his mother to her car and watched her disappear into the distance before he walked back into the building. Standing with his hands in the pockets of his smooth slacks, he surveyed the area with calm eyes. He was looking for someone. Ahh there she is. Honey blond braids swaying gently behind her as she rocked in her chair to the music. Headed in her direction he grabbed a freshly poured glass of champagne from the table and handled the delicate glass in his hands carefully.

Cognac eyes met his as he finally made it into her line of vision. “Champagne? I wasn’t aware you were still here Ms.Evans.” Her pretty manicured hand accepted the drink from him and she sipped a little before answering him.

“Yeah I guess I’m a bit of a recluse…I prefer to fade into the background at events like these. Sometimes it’s better to just watch.” Terry hummed in his throat before taking a seat in front of her crossing his left leg over his right.

“And on that point we do agree…for causes such as these I can show up no questions asked, otherwise I’m home nose deep in a good podcast.” His deep rumbling laugh coaxed a cute chuckle from her mouth.

She sipped a little more of the sweet champagne before she answered him. ”Oh wow me too , so you have a favorite one you listen too?”

“Yes…yours. It’s the only one I can sit through and enjoy without a missed episode. You’re great at what you do Ms.Evans…very captivating topics.” Terry watched a hand press to her chest in shock as her mouth fell in shock.

“You watch lil ole’ me, wow Terry I really appreciate that. And I try to make things interesting as well as informative… I'm happy it reaches you well.”

“There’s nothing little about the work you do, remember that.” Maria shyly tilted her head to the side, peeking up into his face from under her lashes.

”Thank you so much Terry, you have the kindest eyes by the way…sorry if that was weird.” He dropped his head and let his eyes lock onto hers and watched her skin heat up under his gaze.

“No no, not weird at all. I receive that..thank you beautiful.”

Terry enjoyed picking her head for the reminder of their time together. By 9pm the event had wrapped and everyone filed out of the large double doors to head home. Terrys large hand graced the small of her back not wanting to lose her in the crowd of people, he hated that their time was cut short because he had really enjoyed chatting with the smart woman.

“Did you drive here?” He looked down at her once they’d made it outside, the middle of people around them creating the perfect bubble for tj to talk.

“Mhmh I did.. I’m right over there, the black Acura.” Her dainty finger pointed at the sleek Acura suv that was coincidentally parallel parked behind his Manhattan Green BMW X6.

“ I’ll walk you..we’re parked right by each other.” Her heels clicked against the dark asphalt and she let a yawn escape her pretty lips.

“Tired Ms.Evans? Sorry to keep you so late, I’m sure you have other obligations.”

“Mhm it’s all the food and champagne getting to me, and no please don’t apologize I had such a nice time tonight… thank you again for extending an invitation to me.” The two stopped in front of her suv and it had Terry wishing he could turn back time.

“And miss an opportunity to talk to the gorgeous and seriously intelligent Marina Evans… not a chance. Thank you for your support, and drive safe.” He helped her step into her vehicle before he closed her door and watched her leave before pulling out his phone to make a call.

“Yeah she just left..keep close to the plan and do exactly what I told y’all to do. I find out you niggas did anything other than what I asked…yall are finished.” He hung up the phone and hopped into his car heading to his house. He knew what he was doing was fucked up, but rarely did Terry ever not get what he wanted. Only this time he wanted Marina Evans and he was willing to stage whatever freak incident he could think of to appear as the white shining knight in her story.

The contemporary home was a perfect mix of neutral earth times and dark greys. Features within the home had donned it with eco friendly and smart house features putting it at a price point of a whopping 1.2 million dollars. A price point Terry would pay and then some for a house that was exclusive to him. The story he told the public about his upbringing was slightly altered and fabricated. The money was only halfway clean, but his appearance needed to be crystal. No past offenses or charges, no run-ins with the police, and no witnesses.

He put people in the dirt for a living and that was just the true facts. The true underground king with an empire spanning throughout the states.A dr. Jekyll and Hyde if you will. The boogeyman. An assassin with the precision to kil. Right now his cousins were ransacking the cute little craftsman style house that belonged to Marina Evans. A sick way of pushing her into his arms he knew but having her would make it all worth the risk.

A new obsession had squirmed its way into Terrys head one night during a masturbation session. The video practically screamed out at him and he had nutted enough that night to fill the Mississippi River; twice,his eyes were glued to the computer screen as he watched the younger woman be pumped full of grown mature dick. The idea had crossed his mind plenty of times, something young and hot to trick on and fuck whenever he wanted to. It seemed maybe he’d be getting his wish sooner or later.

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Paranoia and fear gripped Marina in the coming days after the charity ball. When she had made it home and into her driveway that night she knew something was off. The linen curtains that lined her French doors to her kitchen blew in the night winds, signaling the doors had been smashed. Eyes wide with fear and shock she held her hand over her mouth in disbelief. She frantically dialed 911 to report a burglary. Her house was a mess, picture frames broken and everything rummaged through. The following nights she spent in the guest room at her moms house, too afraid to sleep in her own house.

She had called into the local newspaper that she worked for letting them know of her unfortunate situation. Work would have to be put on the back burner for a few days right along with her podcast episode. She was still practically new to this neighborhood having only just closed on her home two months prior. It was a quiet safe neighborhood, and all her neighbors had kindly welcomed her into it. But now she wasn’t so sure about it being safe. What if she had been home When this happened, would she have lived to tell the tale?

She felt hopeless and the police had no leads yet. What was life without a curveball? She was currently wrapped up in her mothers guest room

sick with the flu. Coughs and sniffles were the soundtrack of life right now and the pungent smell of Lysol was in the air. She had no appetite and a slight migraine sat at her temples, and yet her phone began to ring excessively loud into her ear.

|“Hello?” She was sure she sounded as stuffy as she looked.

|”Marina..hey sweetheart it’s Terry. I called as soon as I heard the bad news, I’m so sorry.” His deep voice sounded apologetic over the phone and she had almost forgotten the exchanging of numbers almost a week ago at the charity event.

[-My uncle works at the police department..he mentioned your name and burglary in the same sentence and I just had to call and check in on you. I hope I’m not overstepping.

[-No not at all I appreciate you calling me..um yeah it hasn't been the best week for me so far it’d be better if I could find out who did this to my house…and now I’m sick with the flu.She heard shuffling and muffled talking on his end and she sat up further on the headboard of the bed.

[-Let me send you something Marina, a little get well soon basket…if that’s okay with you I can have my assistant drop it to you. Marina pondered a bit, and honestly what was the harm in accepting it?

[-I don’t know Terry, I couldn’t ask you to do that. One day you'll have to let me repay you back for your kindness.

[-I insist, and pay me back in good health.. and let me take you out some time when you’re feeling better. Some time had lapsed and he had seriously caught her off guard with the question.

[-Marina? You don’t have to give me an answer right now… my ego can handle it, trust me.

[-Sometime when I’m better definitely, I’m completely in the dumps right now..but I could definitely use that basket if it’s still on the table.

[-It is..I’ll get my assistant to contact you and get everything delivered to you. Get well Marina I’ll talk to you soon.

The call ended and she finally felt some strength in her to get up and tend to herself. Her braids had been in her bonnet for the last 48 hours and her face looked drained of all her color. She definitely wasn’t in any shape to look Terry’s handsome ass in his face. Her moms house was quiet, and she knew her mother wouldn’t be home from the hospital until 7 that evening so trying to get better was definitely the plan for the next few hours.

As he said, Terry had his assistant message her about her location to send the basket. It arrived well packaged with an aroma that was clearing her nasal passage. Two dozen crimson red roses and a large woven basket was on the front porch waiting for her in less than an hour. She hurriedly sat it on her mothers dining table and pulled the contents from the basket. Each item she was excited to use. Multiple face masks to bring back the color to her face, an expensive looking full body massager, a cozy pajama set, and a container of chicken noodle soup that was still piping hot from the deli uptown.

“How freaking sweet, now these are gifts worth having for sure.”

She sent a picture over to Terry letting him know that everything was revived with the highest appreciation. He hearted her message but didn’t send back a written reply.

__

“Didn’t I tell you to stay out my fucking city?!” Terry let his bloodied fist fly into the man’s face for a third time, he winced and shook his hand quickly before his phone vibrated in his pocket. A picture from Marina showing him the basket had made it to her and would be used gratefully. But she'd have to wait. Terry was in his mode. The kill a nigga and ask questions later mode, he had two run ins prior to this one with the same pesky ass excuse for a human being.

“Pass me my shit, I’m ending this. Motherfuckers need to know that I don’t speak twice.” The heavy gun was laid in his hand and he screwed on the silencer. The man in front of him cried and begged for his life, but time was out for him.

“Mario Brown…I’m sentencing you to death for not obeying the nigga that owns you.” A quick pull of the trigger put a silver bullet right through his head. His crew needed no words as they immediately rolled the body into a tarp to be burned.

Terry shrugged off his suit using it to wipe the blood from his face and neck. He had a warehouse stacked to the brim with cocaine that needed to make it to El Paso, Texas. Terry wasn’t a cliche in the world of drugs, he chose the mafia life willingly; it didn’t choose him. It was all he knew and it was all he’s ever done outside of his coverups, that consisted of real estate and stocks. All three things he needed to know the ins and outs of to keep up the facade. He was no good person and he was no angel. He maneuvered through this life cunning and forcefully, and yet he did so with grace.

Drugs had afforded him the type of access he wanted in life. A payroll full of law enforcement, cars and houses, and the baddest bitches on the continent. But he was getting older and more irritable with it all, and that was bad for business. A man that stayed irritated was a man bad for business, he had stacked and put so much money away his grandchildren’s grandchildren would be rich. And yet having all he had he still longed for a woman to call his, someone to marry and give his last name and kids too. Marina Evans was what he wanted-no needed, and he would pull out any stop to have her.

His clothes would be a pile of ash by the time he finished using the warehouse shower, black and purple bruises littering his back and side from a recent brawl with a new business partner who would ultimately be his way out. He didn’t believe the old heads that told him he only had one way out of this kinda life, he refused to put that shit on himself. Death was not the only way out, past men just didn’t have his sharp mindset and it showed because they all rested eternally in cemeteries.

His matte black Range Rover practically drove itself home. He was worn out and needed food and sleep. Public speakings to keep the wool over the public’s eye and the night time escapades that always ended in a dead body or two lying around, were getting the best of him. For the next month he planned to pull back from the public slowly but surely, only popping out to speak when absolutely necessary. The only person he cared to be around was her. What a fucking joke. Terry knew better about this situation and still refused to do better, he wanted what he wanted. Marina… Just the sound of her name rolling off his tongue enticed him and his dick had jumped multiple times in his pants when she complimented him at the ball.

A pretty lil thing with a good head on her shoulders and outside of wanting to put her through his mattress he was actually genuinely intrigued by her. And when he finally laid down it was her pictures and voice that invaded his privacy so badly he stalked all her socials. Her vibrant colorful pictures on her Instagram page pulled a smile from him, such an interesting girl.

__

The next morning came to Terry in peace. No nightmares and no tossing and turning, he felt well rested above all else and the pain he felt from his bruised body had subsided and drowned out without painkillers. His morning routine came effortlessly and he ended it all with a 30 minute meditation to thoroughly decompress his body to prepare for his day.

He scarfed down a savory bagel sandwich and washed it down with his herbal tea. His agenda for the day was light as planned, he was to be kept updated on the whereabouts of his drugs every hour on the hour and not a second late. A large sum of money was headed his way if shit went smoothly.

His fingers itched to message Marina; so he did. He wanted another try at seeing her. To his surprise she had responded quickly and said she was feeling well enough to meet at her house. She spoke of wanting to replace the broken glass on her French doors so he dressed casually and responded letting her know he’d see her shortly.

His Ford Raptor rounded the block into a cute quaint neighborhood. Children rode their bikes and sprayed each other with water hoses as their parents watched, and the background noise of barking dogs made it all full circle. He spotted Marina’s suv quickly and pulled in alongside it in her driveway. Getting out he noticed her still sitting inside and tapped on her window lightly.

“Hi Terry… I know I look weird still sitting in here. I’m just scared to go alone.” She gave him a bashful smile and opened her driver side door. Black biker shorts showing off her thick thighs and plush lower half, had him shaking his head. A Tupac graphic tee shirt and white sneakers completed her looks and her neat braids rested atop her head in a tight bun.

“Come on I’ll go with you, nobody will mess with you while I’m here I promise.” She obliged and walked side by side with him to the side of her house where the doors were. Terry measured where the glass was supposed to be and got the measurements for replacements and let the tape measure shoot back into itself before turning to Marina.

“I have a guy that does this kind of work. I'll get in contact with him for you. No cost to you, but for now I’d say invest in security cameras…they’ll bring you a good peace of mind.”

“Will do, that’s not even out of the question anymore… thank you for extending this kind of generosity to me.”

A smirk graced his face as he stared down at her, hands itching to touch her. “Let’s get lunch and you can thank me all you want afterwards.” He helped her up into his truck with a hand on her waist, green eyes going wide at her ass in his face, and on his way around the truck he was silently praying to god.

She was definitely chatty when she got comfortable, but he didn’t mind listening. They filled their bellies with Korean bbq and sushi and Terry was still ordering appetizers.

“Please no more, are you trying to stuff me?” In more ways than one he thought to himself, he just loved watching her eat. When she tried something new amongst the appetizers she hit a little happy dance if she liked it. They had ate their fill in food with plenty to bring home, Terry paid the bill and carried their Togo bags and she kept up beside him sipping quietly on her lychee tea. His phone buzzed in the console a few times and he ignored it knowing it was about his shipment, he would get to it when she was no longer around.

“Do you need to get that… am I intruding or something? You can let me know, I’m sure you’re practically booked and busy. Please don’t let me hold you up.”

“They can wait, you’re more important right now.” She turned slightly in her seat and her cognac eyes held his for what felt like hours. And she leaned closer into his space, holding that eye contact.

“You have the most beautiful eyes… they just seem never ending.” His stare intensified and he watched her smile dreamily at him, whatever effect he thought he had on her had been confirmed.

“You keep complimenting me like that and I’ll start to think you got a little crush on me Ms.Evans.”

“Would that be so bad…me liking you?” He shook his head and tucked a braid back into her bun fingers slowly grazing her neck. How bold of her,

“Only if I didn’t like you back.” He smirked and rubbed his fingers against her open palm watching her fingers twitch slightly. “You’re an amazing woman Marina… I’ve been interested in you for a while, but things just didn’t make sense then.” He thought back to a few months ago when he had initially intended on meeting her but he was busy trying to wipe a whole bloodline out at the time and that was time consuming.

Her eyes danced around his face as she listened to him intently, and his right hand rose to her chin to focus them, letting her lean into him to initiate a kiss. But she put her hands up pulled back slowly.

“But Terry what if-“

“Shh.. put your hands down and let it happen, let me in.”

His hands found her face and he pressed his lips to hers in a rush. Her tongue tasted sweet from her drink and the strawberry flavored lip gloss had him sucking her lips into his mouth like a savage. She gripped his shirt and he pulled her into him with a hand on her waist hand rubbing along her back soothingly, chest to chest heads turning left to right to increase the experience. He pulled away from her reluctantly and brought a hand to his lips to kiss.

“Give me a chance to court you and prove myself…if you don’t like what I offer you, then that’ll be it and I won’t bother you again, but if you do..I have so much to show you.”

“A deal is a deal Mr.Richmond..let the games begin.”

__

A/N: The girls called for Mafia!Terry??? HERE HE GO😗. Like and reblog if you enjoyed this🫶🏾

@venusincleo @grlsbstshot @yassbishimvintage @avoidthings @pocketsizedpanther @writingsbytee @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @simplyzeeka @zillasvilla @blowmymbackout @kimuzostar @playgurlxoxo @kumkaniudaku @megamindsecretlair @theereina @keyaho @brattyfics @hotgrlcece @henneseyhoe @starcrossedxwriter @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @uzumaki-rebellion @blackmoonchilee @invisiblegiurl @blackerthings @19jammmy @ovohanna24 @talkswithdesi @notc0rtez @becauseimswagman1 @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @mysteryuz

#terry richmond #aaron pierre #terry richmond x blackoc #rebrl ridge

[jhdyuiee]

Christmas After Hours

✮ pairing: fiance!jaehyun x fem!reader

✮ warnings/tags: smut!, 69, multiple positions/orgasms, protected sex, tit/breast play, kissing/making out, dirty talk, pet-names/name-calling, cursing, fluff (cute :/), explicit content minors dni!

✮ w.c: 1.8k

✮ a.n: PART 2 of be there for me.

con't -> hi, jiji back! today is a special day! today makes 1 year since i released my first fic (link up above) & so to commemorate that, i've brought to u a part 2, yay! hope u can all enjoy this one, as well as enjoy your Christmas for those of u who celebrate! love u all <33

12. 26

Fuck. 

What time is it?

1 a.m? 2 a.m? 5 a.m?

How long have we been going at it?

It’s the morning after Christmas, the morning after your long-termed boyfriend, Jaehyun, asked you to marry him. It was a joyous occasion, so joyous that you two had to celebrate back here in the suite he managed to book.

When you arrived it was lit up by a fake-candled pathway and rose petals that were scattered that led to the massive bedroom. In there awaited balloons, a rose-petaled heart on the bed, and balloons with your and his initial. It was sort of cliche, but cute.

Yet the cute set-up didn’t last long, you were glad you were able to manage to snap a picture before he had you on the bed, in whatever position he desired.

Honestly, you two were going at it like a pair of animals in heat. No compliments though, you loved it when this side of Jaehyun popped out, a 180 from his innocent and gentle facade.

And now he had you where he wanted you all night. Your sweet, sensitive cunt against his mouth, and his–still–hardened member touching your soft lips.

You kissed along his shaft, using one of your hands to rub his leaking tip. You spread his cum along his cock before licking it right off. He groaned against your pussy lips, darting his tongue out to tease your pulsing hole.

Your own tongue worked its way along his cock, to his leaking tip. You swirl your tongue around it, using the tip of your tongue to lick along his tip’s slit. The sensation of his moans vibrating against your clit.

He bit on your clit gently before tugging on it with only his lips. After playing and teasing your clit, he lets go, working his lips to kiss down your pussy lips. When they’ve arrived at their desired destination, he uses his thumbs to open your lips right up. Jaehyun licks his lips as he’s about to devour you; devour your sweet juices.

When you begin to sink down his cock, your eyes begin to water. You try breathing, inhaling oxygen as you take him in more and more. You could feel as his tip reached the back of your throat, an indication you need an inch or two more before he’s fully within you.

Your moans against his cock don’t stop during this whole ordeal when you feel his tongue dive inside you. You could feel as it presses against your gummy walls in an attempt to stretch you out, only for you to squeeze right back up.

Once you feel he’s all in, you take a couple seconds to a minute accommodating before you start bobbing your head along his cock. You keep it slow and steady, wanting to savor the moment.

Yet on the other hand, Jaehyun wanted you to cum all over him now. He wanted a taste of you, he was a thirsty man, growing dehydrated. And a simple cure of your juices to save him from dying.

He works his tongue faster inside you, slurping and squelching noises bouncing off the walls as he devours you. Though to your surprise, he takes his tongue out leaving you to whine against his shaft.

“Go faster on me baby, if not I’m not letting ya’ cum,” he says in a sultry tone.

You wasted no time, you worked your mouth faster against his shaft, managing to pick up on the small “good girl” comment Jaehyun said before he dove back inside. He worked faster, each stroke against your walls better than the one before. He teased you cunt inside, and managed to use a finger to rub your clit.

You don’t even notice as you begin grinding against his face, wanting his tongue to delve in deeper and deeper. You could feel it, feel as if you're about to gush against him face.

You pick up your pace too, bringing your hands into the mix to fondle his balls before helping your mouth move along his shaft. As you alternate between the two, you feel him twitch inside you, indicating he was about to cum as well.

You two worked your ways faster and faster, bringing one another closer and closer to each other’s highs. And with a pinch to your clit and swirling of your tongue along his tip, you two came. Your sweet juices adorning the entirety of Jaehyun’s face, and his cum coating the insides of your mouth a pretty white.

You made sure all of his cum was inside you, even the bit that managed to slip past your lips, before you swallowed it. Feeling satisfied.

He, too, felt satisfied as he licked up every drop. Jaehyun can’t contain the noises coming out of his mouth as he gets a taste of you more and more. Your pussy was just too perfect, made just for him. And as he finishes getting the last drops, you shift positions.

“Scoot up a bit Jaehyun, against the headboard,” you say, breathlessly.

He doesn’t hesitate, moving all the way back until he hits the headboard. And he watches and you crawl to him, so hot. He wouldn’t dare tear his eyes off you. He watches as you get place your legs on either side of him.

“Could you go a little further down?” you asked.

And he does until his head hits the headboard. Perfect, you thought.

You shift downward a bit as well, until his cock rubs along your cunt. You throw your head back, a moan escaping your lips as you continue grinding yourself on his cock. You wait for it to harden before grabbing another condom to slip on his cock. Rubbing yourself once more to coat him, you lift yourself up a bit before sinking right onto his cock.

“Shit, feels so good baby,” Jaehyun groans as he feels your cunt on him again.

When he’s all in, you move up and down on his cock. Your hands resting on his chest as a means of guidance as you continue moving inside him. You bite your lips as you feel it kiss your g-spot with every thrust. Yet, you couldn’t keep up with this pace for long. Your moves slowed and Jaehyun noticed it too.

“Need some help baby?” he says as he grips onto your hips, ready to control.

You don’t respond, nodding your head as you lay down onto his chest. “Don’t worry I got you,” he whispers into your ear before gripping onto your ass so he could slide out before thrusting himself back in.

“Oh god!” you moaned in delight.

Jaehyun thrusts into you at an inhuman pace, his stamina still strong. The slapping of skin echoing in the room, mushing together with your moans. Your back aches and arms wrap around him as he fucks himself into you.

“S- Stop,” you moan, capturing his attention. He locks eyes with you, faces only centimeters apart. His thrusting slowed and you take the opportunity to lift yourself back up. Jaeyun joins you, eyes not breaking from yours.

“To- Together,” you say before helping in fucking yourself onto his cock as he tried doing the same. He admires you, taking you in and taking in the way your tits bounced with every thrust. He bows his head down, taking one of your tits into his mouth. He licks your nipple, sucking on it before turning his attention to your bud.

You clench around him, moans turning into pants as you continued fucking yourself on him. And once he lets go of your tit with a pop, focusing on your mouth next. He kisses you with much desire and lust, fighting his tongue with yours before parting from you the same time he feels himself reaching.

“Cum together?” he asks in more of a whisper.

“Y-Yes,” you softly moaned.

And with one rough thrust from Jaehyun’s side you both came, collapsing into him. He holds you close, holds you tight almost as if someone would take you away.  And just then Jaehyun gets you on your stomach, lifting your hips up so your ass is sticking in the air.

The cool air replaces where his cock was before, and you hear the ripping of another condom. Jaehyun rubs his cock on your ass, placing both hands on your hips as he then sinks his cock inside you again.

You were still sensitive from your other orgasm, and the many from before, that you almost came right then and there. You hold off for a while longer, mind going crazy from the way Jaehyun’s cock kissed your cervix.

“How do you always feel so good,” Jaehyun says, loving the way you're still pulsating around him.

His hands touch the skin of your ass, groping the flesh before slapping it with his hands. You arch your back even more, clenching like crazy around him.

Slap. Slap. Slap

“My sweet girl loves getting her ass slapped, right? Loves it when she gets treated like a slut?”

“Y-Yes! Oh, fuck, yes Jae- your… your slut, only yours,” you moan, words unable to formulate in your brain with every rough thrust he gives to you.

You’re nearly knocked out, seeing stars in your eyes. You lose control over your body, feeling as it lets go around his cock for another time tonight. You cum with incoherent phrases, curse words flying through the air as Jaehyun gives you yet another satisfying release.

Jaehyun doesn’t stop as you cum on him, he fucks you through it as he wants to meet his own high. Yet lucky him, with the view in front of him: your back arching beautifully, ass red with his hand prints, and the mutters of his name coming from your mouth, he cums into the condom once more.

He takes his cock out, slipping the condom off and tying it before tossing it to the bin beside the bed. He turns to find the box of condoms gone, the whole pack. He mutters a small, “fuck” under his breath. He truly was a wild animal, a predator.

As he then turns to you he sees you passed out, exhausted from tonight– the night he passionately devoured you. A dimpled-smile touches his lips as he inches towards you. He gently moves your body to lay against his. He admires your beauty, how was it that you glowed even more now?

You were his favorite everything– person, place, song, smile, laugh, color, flower, food, hobby, the list goes on. And to think he’d now be able to spend the rest of his life with you, together until you two are grey and old, feels like a dream come true. You were always going to be his lover, in this life, his past life, and the next life.

His hand takes a hold of yours, he sees as the diamond ring, the engagement ring, illuminates through the night light. He kisses your ring, eyes coming to shut. And before they manage to close he whispers…

“I love you, my wife.”

© jhdyuiee

2024. 12. 24

final a.n: merry christmas! now that a year has passed, i can't wait for what the future has in store for this blog <33. thank u for giving me the strength to write, i love u all so dearly <33

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

A Christmas Gift | G.W.

“That's what happens when you love someone,” George replied, smiling. “You want to protect them from anything that might hurt them, even if you know you can't.”

feat. George Weasley x fem!reader

SUMMARY: You go to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes to pick out a Christmas gift for your ailing little brother, who adored the shop (and the twins) before he became too ill to go. You find a gift and so much more than you ever dreamed of.

CW: this is really emotional, i’m sorry, but i pinky promise that it has a happyish ending. fred is dead, grief, hurt/comfort, hospital visits, sick sibling/children, some swearing, but also some fun and lightheartedness, plenty of christmasy fluff, first kisses

AN: last Christmas fic of the season!

The early morning snow buffeted at your back as you stepped into Weasely Wizard Wheezes. The store had just opened, you saw someone turn the sign as you finished your breakfast at the Three Broomsticks, but you wanted to beat the holiday rush so you could really take your time.

The smell of cinnamon and woodsmoke, plastic toys and what could only be described as joy, welcomed you inside. An enormous Christmas tree hung upside down from the ceiling, decorated in orange, purple, and gold, with handmade ornaments over every branch and popcorn strings strewn around it. Every shelf was stocked and festively decorated, and soft Christmas music played from the speakers.

You stopped in the doorway, tears welling in your eyes. Your brother would love this. You had hoped that he’d be having a good day today, that maybe, by some miracle, he’d be well enough to come with you. But he’d spiked a fever late last night, and was going in for some imaging today to ensure he hadn’t caught pneumonia…again.

“Morning,” a voice called to you, and you looked up, hastily wiping tears on your sleeve. George Weasley, a man you’d never met but would recognize anywhere, was halfway down the spiral staircase, a cup of coffee in hand. He was dressed in the iconic pinstripe suit, his copper hair a little longer than the last time you’d seen him two years prior, not that he’d remember.

The only reason you remembered was because of your brothers obsession with the Weasley twins. He’d asked to have his hair cut and dyed orange that same afternoon.

More tears welled up, and you cursed yourself, turning away to hide your face. “I’m sorry,” you sniffled, trying to take a deep breath. “I promise I’m not insane.”

You heard him move the rest of the way down the stairs, then approach you, his tall frame taking him across the store in a few strides. He had a bright purple handkerchief in his hand, the triple W embroidered on the corner.

“That’s okay, we like a little insanity around here. What’s your name?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Y/n.” You accepted the handkerchief with a watery smile and dabbed your eyes.

“George. Are you alright, y/n?” he asked.

You sighed, twisting the fabric in your hands. “The holiday’s are just hard.”

He nodded, his jaw flexing, eyes averting from your face to the floor. “Yeah,” he said, his voice rougher than it had been a moment before. You noticed then the dark circles under his eyes, the air of heaviness around his shoulders. “Can I help you find something?” he asked, pivoting quickly.

“Yes, actually. I’m, uh, looking for a gift for my little brother. But he—it has to be something he can play with in bed. Nothing too loud or messy.” Your heart ached as you said it, knowing he would actually love something loud, messy, destructive, as little boys do, but such things weren’t allowed at St. Mungo’s.

George raised an eyebrow. “Strict parents?”

You shook your head, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “He’s in hospital,” you murmured, hating saying the words aloud.

George’s face fell. “Oh—Merlin, I’m really sorry.”

A flicker of understanding passed between you, your broken hearts beating at the same rhythm for a moment. You knew about the death of his twin, Fred, everyone did, and now he knew your pain as well. That knowledge weaved an invisible string of connection between you, forged in empathy.

“We can absolutely find something for him,” George said, his voice painfully sincere. He offered you his arm and you accepted, needing a bit of steadiness. “What kind of things does he like?”

You started to walk through the store, looking around the towering shelves, at a bit of a loss. “Well, he loves Whizz-bangs, and your Pyrotechtrix.”

George smiled, chuckling to himself. “Fun, but not exactly suitable for a hospital.”

“Exactly. But honestly, anything you recommended, he’d absolutely adore, so long as I told him you recommended it.”

“Oh yeah?” George raised an eyebrow, glancing down at you.

Saints, he’s handsome.

“Yeah, he’s a big fan. He used to beg us to stop in every time we came to Diagon Alley so he could watch your demonstrations.”

George’s smile widened, a flush creeping up his neck. “Well, ah, that’s really—” he scratched the back of his head, clearly flustered by the revelation. “That’s very kind,” he managed with a breathy chuckle.

The door jingled as another customer came in and you tensed, George’s eye flicking towards the new customer, then back down to you.

You moved to slip your arm from his. “I can look around, you go ahead—”

“Oi, Ron!” George shouted, a hand cupped around his mouth, his arm tightening around yours so you stayed put.

“What? I’m sorting inventory!” Ron Weasley shouted back, appearing from the back of the store with arms full of boxes. His eyes quickly scanned over you, your joined arms, then back to George, who was nodding his head towards the door. “Welcome to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes!” Ron turned greeted the customer, dropping the boxes where he stood.

You chuckled, leaning a bit closer to George, grateful that he didn’t abandon you.

“You’re my first priority today,” he murmured to you, close enough that you could smell his amber cologne, and you felt your anxiety unspool for the first time in weeks. For this one thing, this small, Christmas gift hunt, you weren’t alone.

You spent the rest of the morning with George, wandering through aisle after aisle as he talked you through every product you showed an interest in. At first, he seemed reluctant to talk about products with stories tied to Fred, like prodding a sore wound, but eventually he was telling story after story, grinning and laughing at the memories of their countless antics.

He encouraged you to share about your brother as well, and by the end, you were both in stitches from laughing, cheeks sore and eyes watery with tears. It warmed your heart to see him light up at the his brother’s memory, to see the love between them still very much burning, and soothed a bit of your fear.

No matter what happened, the love and the memories would remain.

You finally settled on an Aviatomobile and a few muggle magic tricks, nothing explosive, sticky, or illness-causing. George carried the items to the counter, setting them gently on surface, but hesitated when he reached for the register.

He turned, grabbing a gift box from beneath the counter. Carefully, he wrapped each item in branded tissue paper and nestled them into the box, then rearranged them once, then twice, before finally placing the lid and tying an orange bow around it. Then, he grabbed one of the paper ornaments from the counter, where kids could write little messages or drawings to hang on the gravity-defying Christmas tree, and scribbled something on it before securing it to the bow.

“There we go,” he said, pushing it towards you with a sheepish smile.

You reached for you wallet. “How much do I—”

He shook his head, waving you off. “It’s on me. Least I can do for an avid supporter.”

Tears burned behind your eyes again, caught off guard by his generosity. “George, I can’t—”

“Please, just—let me do this for your brother.” George’s eyes held yours, soft around the corners. “It’s what Fred would do.”

You nodded, unable to speak through the lump in your throat.

“Would you want to, uh, maybe get a drink later? Or coffee?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck, freckled cheeks flushing pink.

You smiled, your heart flipping in your chest. “I’d love to. We could get ice cream at Fortescue's?” You offered.

He smiled back. “Perfect. 7 o’clock?”

“Perfect,” you repeated, fighting a nervous giggle. “I’ll see you later, then.” You hefted the box in your arms and waved goodbye, hurrying out before you said anything embarrassing, or melted into a puddle of goo on the floor.

Halfway down the street, you finally glanced at the paper ornament George attached to the gift.

Sorry, mate. No explosive’s. Sister’s orders. But I’ve got a stash in the back waiting for you when you’re ready. Merry Christmas. - GW

You were fizzing with excitement as you approached the ice cream shop, a soft flurry of snowflakes dancing int the twinkle lights strew across Diagon Alley. Vendors were at every corner, selling steaming beverages, candied nuts, and fried dough. Shoppers wandered from glowing door to glowing door, bundled in thick coats and arms laden with bags. A choir sang Christmas carols on the steps of Gringotts, toads wearing Santa hats cradled in their arms, and you paused to listen while they sang “Carol of the Bells”, trying to collect your scattered mind.

You hadn’t stopped thinking about George for a moment, so wound up that you started getting ready three hours early for a simple ice cream date. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so giddy, so hopeful.

“I like this song,” a familiar voice murmured in your ear and you looked up, finding George standing beside you watching the carolers, the lights reflecting in his brown eyes. He was dressed in a brown wool coat with a Gryffindor scarf around his neck, a white, cable knit sweater and jeans underneath, patches on the knees.

“Me too,” you replied, biting your lips to stop the grin threatening to rise. “How was your day?”

“Chaos. I left Ron to deal with the stragglers. We were supposed to close around six…” he trailed off, his eyes catching on a group of wizards. You followed his eye, and were appalled to find them muttering and pointing at him. And when you looked around, you noticed several groups were doing the same.

Instinctively, you moved closer to him, as if you could shield him somehow.

His fingers twined with yours, warm and calloused. “It’s alright,” he said, turning you to face him. “M’used to it.”

“It’s not alright,” you said, raising your voice and directing a pointed glare at the noisy folks. “It’s rude!”

He chuckled, tugging you away from the carolers. “Easy, love. It doesn’t bother me much anymore. Don’t give them any of your attention.”

You sighed, falling into step beside him, hands still clasped together. “I’m sorry they treat you like that,” you said, glaring daggers at anyone that even glanced in his direction while you walked towards Fortescue's.

“It was worse when we first reopened the shop.” His thumb swiped back and forth across yours, soothing the irritation itching under your skin. “They would come in just to get a look at me. Like my grief was some kind of spectator sport.”

“I can’t imagine having that kind of loss broadcast to the entire world,” you said, glancing at a newspaper stand plastered in the Daily Prophet.

“It’s inhumane,” he replied, stopping in front of the ice cream shop. “But, I’m grateful for it too.”

You raised an eyebrow, facing him in the warm glow of the window.

“Everyone knows how amazing he was,” he murmured, his voice thickening with emotion. He looked down at your joined hands, playing with your fingers. “He’s a hero.”

You squeezed his hand, prompting him to look up at you. “So are you, George," you said, inflecting as much sincerity as you could into your voice. "Y’know, I was there that day, when you and Fred left Hogwarts?”

His eyes widened. “You were?”

You nodded. “I was two years under you, we wouldn’t have crossed paths,” you said, trying to assuage the needless guilt that crossed his face. “But I’ll never forget that moment, watching you guys reclaim the magic that makes Hogwarts, well, Hogwarts. You inspired all of us left behind.”

He gave you a sad smile, his eyes shiny with unshed tears, and brought your knuckles to his lips, brushing a kiss across them. “Thank you for telling me that,” he whispered. “You didn’t get burned, did you?” He asked, worry suddenly creasing his brow.

You giggled. “No, no. No one was hurt besides Umbridge's ego.”

He exhaled, flashing a relieved smile. “Okay, good. Because that would have been a terrible first impression.” He opened the door to the ice cream shop, gesturing for you to step inside.

“My first impression was when you turned Ms. Norris purple during the Halloween feast,” you said, stepping past him and into line, the smell of waffle cones and caramel wafting over you.

George barked a laugh, his head falling back with the force of it, and you smiled. “Better, I suppose.”

“It’s not like I made a great first impression on you, weeping like a sap as soon as I stepped into your store,” you joked, too busy gazing up at his smiling face to notice the line move forward without you.

He shook his head, still chuckling. “No, it was a perfect first impression.”

You ordered your bowls of ice cream, Peppermint Marshmallow Mayhem for George and Gingerbread Dreams for you, and sat at a corner booth by the window, talking about nothing in particular for awhile while you ate.

“So, how’s your brother doing today? You mentioned he had some imaging this afternoon?” George asked, genuine concern creasing his brow.

“He’s doing well, actually. No pneumonia, by Godric’s grace, and his fever broke this afternoon. Still not sure what caused it, but hopefully nothing of concern,” you answered, you heart lifting at his relieved smile.

“Good, I’m really glad to hear that. Now, let me try your ice cream.” He waggled his spoon and you laughed, sliding it towards him. He took the tiniest spoonful, flipping it over to lick it off, and your cheeks warmed at the way his tongue caressed the curve of the spoon.

You knew you were caught when he smirked around the utensil, but he let it slide.

“Here, try mine.” He dug a spoonful out of his bowl, holding it out for you to take a bite with a borderline sinful look in his eye.

“George Weasley,” you teased, shaking your head. “You are such a flirt.”

“Can you blame me? I’m sitting across from my dream woman,” he replied, grinning.

Now your cheeks were really warming, and you leaned forward to take a small bite off the edge of his spoon. Sugary peppermint and creamy marshmallow coated your tongue, and you moaned.

“Good?” he asked, raising a brow.

“Delicious,” you giggled, watching as he ate the rest of the spoonful, and wondered how it would taste on his tongue.

After ice cream, you continued wandering around Diagon Alley, peeking in all the shop windows and sipping warm butter beer, until your noses were pink from the chill, your hair full of glittering snow.

You stopped outside of his shop, the sign flipped to ‘closed’ and only a few lights on inside along with the exterior holiday decor, presumably left on for George.

“I have a confession to make,” he said, stepping a little closer to you.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a thrill of excitement pulsing through you. “What?” You asked, picking invisible lint of his lapel just to have something to do with your hands.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I saw you watching the carolers,” he murmured, sliding his glove off and reaching out to cradle your face, his touch gentle, giving you every opportunity to pull away.

You leaned your head into his large palm, gazing up at him, freckled, flushed, and starry-eyed. You’d never seen someone look at you with adoration before, and it made your soul sing.

Instead of saying anything, you rose onto your toes and pressed your lips to his, a quick, airy peck. But when you went to move back, his hand held you in place, lips just barely touching.

“Again,” he breathed, his other hand coming around to rest on your lower back. “Please?”

You gave the tiniest nod, feeling like your heart might burst out of your chest, and his lips connected with yours again in a slow, languid kiss, the taste of ice cream and butter beer and him making your head go a little fuzzy, your right foot popping up behind you as you leaned into his embrace.

His tongue caressed the seam of your mouth, but he didn’t push further, just a small tease before winding the kiss down until it ended the way it started, with a few barely-there pecks in reluctant departure.

You sighed against him, lowering back onto flat feet, and he smiled, drawing you into his chest for hug. You slipped you arms under his coat, feeling the softness of his sweater and the warmth of his body envelop you.

“Thank you for this,” you murmured. “I really, really needed it.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his arms tight around your body. “So did I. Can we do it again tomorrow? Breakfast? Sunrise picnic?”

You chuckled, tilting your chin up to rest on his sternum. “Breakfast sounds great.”

George beamed, dropping a warm kiss to the frozen tip of your nose. “I’ll pick you up at nine?”

“It’s a date.” You stole one last kiss before slipping away, practically skipping.

You and George saw each other every day for the next week, whether it was to wander around Diagon Alley, looking at the lights and festivities, or grabbing a quick cup of tea between busy shifts. Neither of you could stand being apart for more than a few hours at a time.

Tonight, George invited you to his flat for dinner and muggle Christmas films, and you were dressed in the ugliest Christmas sweater you could find. With a timid hand, you knocked on his door.

It opened under you fist, revealing George on the other side, wearing a maroon sweater with a giant ‘G’ on the front of it and a sauce splattered apron.

“Hey, love.” He tugged you inside, pressing an eager kiss to your lips before ushering you down the hall, his deft fingers unraveling your scarf from your neck and peeling the coat from your shoulders. You laughed at his haste, spinning and hopping as he removed your boots. He stopped only when he finally saw your sweater. “Oh, darling. You look ravishing.” His hands fell to your waist and he pulled you into his chest, a mischievous grin on his face. “Very fashion forward.”

“Thank you, baby,” you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck. You hadn’t called him that before, but it just rolled right off your tongue, natural as breathing.

He loosed a pleased hum, leaning forward to capture your lips in another, slower kiss. “Like hearin’ you call me baby,” he mumbled against your mouth.

The oven beeped loudly, startling you both.

“Hungry?” He asked with a shy smile.

“Starved.”

He showed you to the dining room, a round table with a vase of flowers at the center, candles strewn on every surface. He pulled a chair out for you and you sat, accepting a kiss on the cheek before he dashed back into the kitchen.

You looked around, having been too caught up in his frantic greeting to take in the space. The rest of the flat was sparsely decorated, purely functional, besides a sagging bookshelf in the living room, and a few photos along the hallway. Not a Christmas decoration was in sight.

George returned with two glasses of wine, the bottle tucked under his arm. “Here we go, a little Pinot Noir for my gorgeous girl.” He set the glasses down then finally sat down in his chair.

“Thank you, baby,” you teased, and he smirked, withdrawing his wand from his apron and waving it towards the kitchen. A moment later, a giant bowl full of pasta, a basket of bread, a salad bowl, and two plates came hovering out of the kitchen, arranging themselves neatly on the table.

“Bon appetite.” He raised his wine glass, a shy little smile on his face, and you raised yours to cheers, so charmed you could cry.

Two hours later, you were curled up on George’s couch, half enjoying Home Alone, half enjoying the feel of each other’s skin under your sweaters, the rich taste of wine on each other’s tongues.

“How come you haven't decorated for Christmas?” You mumbled between languid pecks, his soft lips moving to trail over your jaw.

“Didn't much feel like celebrating this year,” he replied, kissing down your neck, his tongue tracing your pulse.

“And yet here we are, watching corny holiday films,” you chuckled and felt him smile against your neck.

“Things changed.” He lifted his head, capturing your lips in a heavy, open-mouthed kiss that made your blood warm, your heart beat a little quicker in your chest.

Suddenly, something slammed against the window, a frantic scrabbling against glass that had George springing up like something electrocuted him.

“Errol?” George moved toward the window. “No, what the fuck—”

“Oh my god, what are you doing here?!” You cried, jumping up and throwing open the window. Your family owl flew in, landing on the back of the couch. Fear pumped through you and you snatched the letter from his beak, rougher than the poor bird deserved in your panic.

“What is it?” George rested his hands on your hips as you tore it open.

The words on the card made your heart stop.

Mungo’s now, Mum

“George,” you whimpered, sagging against him as terror rocked through you.

He took the letter from your hand and skimmed it. “Go get your coat on, I’ll take you.”

“I—” You were frozen, darkness pulsing at the edges of your vision.

His hands came up to hold your face, shaking you gently. “Honey, we have to go. I’m going to be right here with you, okay? We’re going together. But we have to move now.”

You nodded, clawing through the sludge of fear and clinging to the thread of stability he offered. He helped you into your coat and shooed the owl out, not even bothering to lock up before he was ushering you into his chest.

“Hold onto me,” he ordered, and you did, and suddenly the world was sucked away, a dizzying, horrible tornado of space, and then it spit you back out on the front steps of St. Mungo’s.

“Holy shit,” you gagged, clutching onto George and he held you upright.

“Sorry, love. Never apparated before?” He asked, rubbing your back.

You shook your head.

“Y/n!”

George stiffened, his hands tightening on you, and you looked up.

“Mum!” You cried, rushing to her.

“Oh, hun. I’m sorry to frighten you, he’s okay. Just a scare. I’m so sorry, darling,” she cried, clinging to you.

“Sh, no, it’s alright. I should be here,” you soothed, squeezing your eyes shut to stop the tears from falling. “What happened?”

“He couldn’t breathe, his lungs—pneumonia again,” your mom hiccuped, wiping at her cheeks. “Who’s that?” She asked, looking over your shoulder.

George was were you had left him, hands stuffed in his pockets, his eyes bouncing from you and your mom to the strangers mingling on the sidewalk. You could tell his hackles were raised, some protective instinct roused when he’d been startled by the owl.

You waved him over. “Mum, this is George Weasley. George, this is my mum.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” George said, offering her a hand and a shy smile.

She clutched his hand hard and you both winced. “I-you-Weasley—The George Weasley?” She gasped.

“Just George is fine,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

“Oh my, I just can't believe—”

“Mum, can we go see him now?” You interrupted, anxious to see that he was well yourself. “I promise you'll have a proper introduction later.”

“Yes, of course. This way.” She released George and grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the hospital.

George hesitated, until you reached your hand out to him. He immediately threaded your fingers together, falling into step with your frantic mother.

A few moments later, you rushed into your brother's room, finding him upright and smiling, some new tubes in his little nose, but all together looking well.

“Mum, I said to leave her alone!” He argued, crossing his arms over his reindeer pj's.

“Hush you,” you scolded lightly, wrapping him up in a hug and kissing his forehead, noting his lingering fever. “How are you feeling, darling?” You asked, pulling back to hold his face.

“M'okay. They let me have some ice lollies earlier!” He chirped, sticking out his neon blue tongue.

You grinned. “I see, that's excellent.”

He opened his mouth to say something else, but then you saw his eyes widen, mouth falling open in shock. You turned to see what he was looking at and realized it was George, who was loitering in the doorway.

“Is that—” your brother started, and George looked up. “Wizard—Wizard Wheezes!”

George’s solemn expression shattered into a wide smile as he stepped into the room, his energy shifting instantly. “Hello, mate! I’m George. Heard your not feeling so good?” George reached out to shake his little hand, and he took it, his fingers dwarfed by George's palm.

“No, no. I'm fine!” Your brother replied, shock melting into excitement. “What are you doing here?”

George glanced down at you. “Your sister has been telling me all about you, and how strong you've been lately,” he said, crouching down beside the bed. “She loves you a lot, y’know?”

You stepped out of the way, tears starting to burn behind your eyes. Your mother slipped her hand into yours, watching the interaction with a hand pressed to her mouth.

“I know, but she worries too much,” your brother answered, and George burst out laughing.

“That's what happens when you love someone,” George replied, smiling. “You want to protect them from anything that might hurt them, even if you know you can't.”

“I’m big like you, I don't need protecting!” He argued.

George nodded, pressing a hand to his chest apologetically. “I can tell. But that doesn't mean they don't want to try anyways. And big guys like us have to protect them in return, yeah?”

Your brother nodded, puffing up his chest. “I'll never let anything happen to my sister. I promise!”

You blew him a kiss, and George gave him a high five.

“That's my buddy. Now, let's see if I've got anything special for heroes like you.” George fished around in his pocket, making dramatic faces while he rummaged in what you thought was an empty pocket.

But then he withdrew what appeared to be a toy airplane that would in no way, shape, or form fit in that pocket without magic. Your brothers face lit up when George threw it in the air and it started to fly, ducking and whizzing around the room.

“Hm, that wasn't what I was looking for,” George said with a dramatic frown, and you giggled. He glanced over his shoulder at you, breaking his frown to smirk at your reaction, and started fishing around in his pockets again.

He pulled out a bouncing ball, then a rubber chicken, a set of chattering teeth, a stuffed teddy bear. Item after item came out of his pockets until your brothers bed was covered in toys and gag items, and a dozen nurses were watching in amazement from the hallway. You and your mom were fighting through silent tears, your heart so big you felt it might explode out of your chest.

Most importantly, your brother was ecstatic, playing with this and that and chattering away at George about the different products and teaching him how to do magic tricks George himself had invented.

But half an hour later, your brother’s nurse came in to administer some of his medication and get him ready for bed. He tried to protest, but his new best friend, George, managed to talk him into not only compliance, but eager acceptance of his medicine.

You stole George away into the now quiet hall, Christmas lights illuminating the dark corridor, and threw your arms around his shoulders, burying your face into his neck, needing to feel him close, to ground you through the onslaught of emotions.

He wrapped his arms around you, his head turning to kiss your temple. “Need some air?” He murmured, and you shook your head no.

“Just need you,” you whispered, holding him tighter.

He let you cry into his shoulder, rubbing soothing circles onto your back and murmuring reassurances into your hair. When you'd exhausted yourself, you pulled back and he reached up to hold your face, wiping your tears with his thumbs.

“Thank you for doing that,” you sniffled, sliding your hands down his chest, his sweater soft beneath your palms.

“It was my pleasure, love,” he replied, looking you in the eye. “You—him—this, I needed this. Needed you,” he breathed, voice tightening. “I forgot why we did all it, what all the sacrifices were for, and you reminded me. He reminded me.”

You rose on your toes to press a kiss to his lips, not knowing how else to express how you were feeling that wasn't, well, insanely soon.

He kissed you back, passionate enough to steal your breath, but released you when the door to your brother's room opened.

“Darling—oh, I'm sorry. Darling, would you like to come get a cup of coffee with me?” Your mother asked, clearly fighting a grin at discovering you.

“Sure, mum,” you exhaled, reluctantly stepping away from George. “You okay for a minute?”

“Absolutely, I'll keep an eye on him.” He pressed a kiss to your knuckles before releasing you to your mother, a soft smile on his face.

When you returned twenty minutes later, you found George stretched out in the arm chair pulled up right next to your brother’s bed, Rudolph on the television.

“—Fred managed to get the deer into the kitchen with some carrots and loaf of banana bread, and kept him distracted while I tied bells and ornaments—mom’s favorite’s, of course—to it’s antlers.”

Your brother was giggling, curled up with the stuffed bear George conjured earlier, his eyes heavy as he fought to stay awake to hear the story.

“But then we ran out of banana bread and Fred tried to give it some cookies, but by then the deer had discovered the Christmas tree in the corner, with the popcorn strings and cranberries and salt dough ornaments, y’know? So the deer started eating the bloody Christmas tree and we cannot get it out of the house now. It’s found the best sodding snack on earth. So by the time my mom get’s home, half the tree is gone, there’s shi—dirt all over the house, dishes are broken, holes in the walls—”

“What did she do?” Your mom asked, laughing. “I would have sent you out to live with the deer and it’s family.”

George grinned. “We ate nothing but carrots and banana bread for a week. Even for Christmas dinner. It was torture,” he chuckled, turning back to your brother, only to find him sound asleep. “That boring, huh?” He joked, rising from the chair so your mom could take it. But instead, she pulled him in for a hug, surprising him.

“Thank you for doing this, and I’m so sorry about your brother. But I know he’d be so proud of you today,” she murmured, and you saw George’s eyes well, his jaw flexing as he tried to fight it. Your mom pulled back, pressing a kiss to his cheek, then smoothing away her lipstick with her thumb. “You’re a wonderful, wonderful man, George Weasley. And I’m so glad you’re here.”

He nodded, a tear streaking down his face. “Thank you, ma’am. That’s very k-kind.”

Your mother passed him to you, his hand gripping your tightly as he fought to keep his composure. “Goodnight, mum. I’ll see you in the morning?”

Your mother nodded, waving you away while she kissed your brothers cheek.

You led George out of the room and down the hall, finding an empty room to slip into. As soon as the door closed behind you, he sank to his knees, great, heaving sobs wracking his body. You lowered yourself to the ground with him, pulling his head into your shoulder and rocking him back and forth, his tears soaking through your sweater and shaking your whole body.

“I miss him,” George gasped like he was in pain, his grip almost bruising around your body.

“I know, baby. I know you do,” you said into his hair, holding his head against your chest. Your own tears began to spill then, for him, for you, for your family, and his, and you clung to one another as the overwhelming grief took it’s pound of flesh.

Slowly, he began to settle, breathing labored, but his tears subsiding. He lifted his head, looking at you through tear-brightened eyes, his lashes dark and spiked with moisture. You leaned forward, kissing away the droplets on his cheeks and jaw, until you felt him start to smile.

“I-it’s been so long since I—” he cleared his throat, reaching up to cup your face, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “I was numb for awhile, so long I sort of forgot what anything else felt like. I meant what I said earlier, you reminded me of I’d lost, but in the best way.” Tears welled up again, but he smiled through them. “He would have been so fucking jealous that I got you. But Merlin, he would have loved you so much.”

You huffed a laugh, lower lip trembling as your heart soared. “George,” was all you could manage, and he leaned forward to kiss you, rising onto his knees and pulling into into his chest.

Then, that wild spinning sensation enveloped you again, and in a blink you were back on his couch, exactly as you were before, the credits to the movie rolling on the screen, your glasses of wine exactly where you left them.

“Stay with me tonight,” he asked, trailing kisses down your neck as you reoriented yourself. “Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve, we could spend it together.” He lifted his head to look you in the eyes, and you nodded eagerly.

“Yeah,” you said, laughing as he rained kisses over your face. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Thank you so much for reading!

I hope you have the most wonderful holiday season and start of the new year <3

[admirationandromantics]

Keeping Warm

Another request, thank you so much. Again, reminding people that these usually take some time!! I loved the concept of this one, and believe me when I say that I love to write smut (blog is 18+ minors get away). It's not exactly like the request, but I still hope you like it.

And Merry Christmas and happy holidays! Not gonna be active today, so please enjoy this one and send requests if you want me to take a look at them later. Have a nice day everyone <3

Basically, reader comes to the lodge with Josh a day earlier to set everything up, and they have to get the guest cabin ready. Snow storm, they're snowed in and have to keep warm (you can imagine where this goes).

Word count: 3,3k (Unedited)

i absolutely adore your work, especially the drugged chocolate ones was such a trip!! i was hoping if you could write about josh and reader being stuck in a snow storm. being stuck somewhere, a car or a small cabin (whatever works for you!) and having to have sex for warmth. i know this request is kind of silly but i could totally imagine josh asking this just to be funny and being shocked that reader agrees to do it.😭 (@dissolvedprincess)

“Should we go and set up the guest cabin for Emily and Mike?” I ask, fluffing the last pillow on the sofa. 

“Are we done here?” Josh comes into the room, looking around for any imperfections. Everything is cleaned, changed and heated up. I take it all in, the coziness of the lodge is like no other. It is perfect. 

“Yes we are, don’t you think?”

He comes up behind me, seeing everything from my perspective. 

“Yeah, looks great, guest cabin next”

We take our jackets, not bothering with extra sweaters and outerwear. We aren’t going to be long, just change the sheets, check if there’s firewood and do a quick cleanup. 

Everyone is arriving at the lodge tomorrow night, and I volunteered to come with Josh to prepare for it. The weekend was going to be awesome. Drinking, dancing and talking. I do have an ulterior motive to the kindness I’m paying him. Usually he does these things himself, but by coming with him, we could get some alone time. Not that it would lead to anything, either way, I enjoy his company. 

We go outside, the snow-filled wind immediately hitting us. I knew it was brewing up for a storm, but I didn’t expect it to come so early. I look over at him, and he has his hand in the air, reaching out for me. I grab it, holding firm so I don’t lose him. We can barely see, barely open our eyes to follow the path before us. 

He leads me down, an occasional swing to the side and a little hill here and there. We walk up a couple of stairs when we suddenly hear a loud wolf’s howl. Fucking hell, was this mountain trying to kill us? Luckily, he’s basically grown up here, and knows by heart the way. I finally glimpse the little cabin in the distance, dark and empty. I collect my last strength, one hand still in his and the other in my pocket to keep its warmth. There’s a bunch of snow in front of the door, but he kicks a little away, as if that’s going to help. Hands go in his pocket, finding the keys. He fumbles with them, finally finding the right one and unlocking the door. He struggles to open it, the snow going too high. I try to help him, using my hands to mow as much of the white coldness away that I can. It finally opens, just enough that one of us can press through at a time. I go first, letting him hold the door open. He quickly follows, squeezing his body through the tight space. 

As the door closes, a blissful silence falls over us. The only sound being the wind howling outside, slamming against the wood walls. I look around the cabin. It’s dark and cold, probably dusty as well. 

“Fuck, what a weather” he exclaims relieved, taking a deep breath and going straight for the bedroom. I follow suit, helping him find new sheets, organising, cleaning stuff away, and sweeping the floor. We share one lamp, moving from room to room as we do the tasks. 

“You know, it was great having someone up here with me this year” 

“Don’t worry about it, give me a treat and I’ll come next year as well”

“You’re that easy?”

“In this area, yes”

He laughs at my response, and I sit down on the couch, finally being able to relax a bit. He sits down beside me, legs touching as he makes himself comfortable. I look over, noticing that his gaze is already on me. Eyes move up and down, taking in every inch of me as I’m laid out on the couch. 

“Staring a bit much are we, Washington?” 

“Can’t help myself”

“I mean, if I was wearing a bikini and sitting in a hot tub, I’d be flattered. But you’re literally looking at wool and a massive jacket” 

“Hey, I know what I’m into, you don’t”

I smile, the playfulness of it all getting to me. 

“I don’t know what you’re into or what I’m into?” 

“The first one you know” 

“That you’re into wool and big jackets” 

“Like thinking about what’s underneath” 

“Good play Josh”

I laugh, standing up and taking a last lap around the cabin. The bedroom’s good, the kitchen’s good and the living room’s great. 

“I think we’re good to go back” 

He stands up as well, grabbing his knees and grunting like an old man. He takes a quick look around, being satisfied with the result. 

“You’re right, it’s starting to get cold” 

We go to the door, and he tries pushing it open. It doesn’t budge. He tries again, putting more force into it than last time. It still doesn’t open. He keeps trying, and I move over to the window to look outside. We’ve been in too long, and the snow is now reaching up to our waists, the storm still going strong. 

“Josh, I don’t think we’ll be able to get out” 

He moves to my side, seeing the snow balling on. 

“Windows” He comments, eyes widening in realisation, glad for the solution he conjured. We try to open it, but to no avail. We try the other one as well, but they’re both frozen shut. 

“Shit, shit, shit” 

“Do you have your phone?”

I reach in my pockets, making myself aware that I left it back at the lodge. He hums, trying to think. 

“Okay, I think I’ll pass sometime during the night, right?”

“I believe so” I try to stay hopeful, even with our clothes, the cabin was freezing. 

“Hey Josh, how about we start a fire?” 

He answers by moving over to the fireplace, sitting down and giving a loud sigh. What was the problem now? 

“Out of firewood” 

“You’re joking” 

“I wish I was” 

I whine out loud. What the hell were we gonna do? The only way out is blocked. Even if we manage to remove some of the snow, the storm would replace it easily, leading to us being exhausted and frozen. 

He walks over, hands going to either side of me and holding tight. I look up, finding his eyes oddly comforting, though being anxious himself. I take a deep breath, meeting his gaze before leaning on him, burying my head in the crook of his neck. I wasn’t going to be so shameless to sniff him, but my body listens before I think. Like warmth and fire, how ironic. 

“Listen, this is going to be great” 

I move away, rolling my eyes and giving him a ‘oh, really’-sarcastic look. He smiles, hands gripping even harder and moving up and down, warming me up. 

“It is! Look, we’ve been cleaning and preparing all day, now we’ll relax, talk and just enjoy the night” 

“Josh, it’s freezing” 

“We have each other. At least I didn’t send you here on your own” He laughs, a playful glint in his eyes. 

“Would you?” 

“Nah, I wouldn’t” 

I sit down on the couch, and he goes into the bedroom to get the covers and some more blankets. We get cozy, sitting beside each other in front of the cold fireplace and telling stories. We talk about Chris and Ashley, as well as Mike and Emily. 

“You have noticed the tension between Jess, Emily and your sister, right?” 

“Who hasn't?” 

We go into detail about our lives, and just now, I realise how little I actually know about him. I haven’t gone beyond surface level, which is partly his fault because of the fake persona he always displays, but still…

“Wait, you had a thing for me?” 

My eyes widen at the realisation, a book which I could never imagine was opened. He once liked me. He thought about me, and felt a certain way. 

“Well, had and had… But, you know”

“Yeah, would be a bit weird for the others, don’t you think?”

“Not as weird as Mike’s triangle-drama” he states, laughing at the man. 

“Isn’t it technically a quadruple-drama?” 

“Wouldn’t that be a foursome?” I think for a minute, intrigued by the affairs. I could be, I bet Mike would love it, but I don’t think that’s the right term. 

“No, that’s just sexual, this is just drama” 

“Speaking of sex and sexual appeal…” Josh starts, and I can help but snort. How the conversation has turned. I never imagined myself talking about this, with him, here. 

“Was all this a plot just to make me tell you this?” 

“Maybe” he answers, a playful smirk on his lips. He loves the direction this is going, he’s intrigued, interested. Of course he is. It’s freaking Josh Washington. 

“Okay then, let me tell you. If we had a fire here, I might do it right here” 

“Really?” 

“Wouldn’t be the first time” 

His eyes widens in surprise, brows furrowing in confusion. Oh, it sounds like I’ve done it ‘here’ before, which is absolutely not what I meant 

“You mean that time you and Sam shared this cabin…”

“No, no! Sorry, I worded that wrong. I just meant to say that fire in itself is a bit of a vibe, mood lighting and all” 

“Ohhh, yeah” 

“Not that I’ve done it here, I’ve never had sex on a mountain before”

“You don’t say” his tone is different, something darkly curious in it. I smile at him, aware that I’ve shared a bunch and he hasn’t shared anything. 

“I do, have you?” 

He pauses, looking at the imaginary fire we’ve constructed, keeping us warm. None of us are, which is why we’re automatically sliding closer and closer. We can’t help it, it’s just instinct at this point. 

“No I have not” 

“I’m surprised” 

“What, why?” 

“Well, bring a girl up to a mountain, your secluded beautiful bachelor pad. Who knows what might happen” 

“Are you saying we should…” 

“You wish Washington” 

He puts his hands up in defeat, grinning at my smiling face. I’ve never connected with him this way before. There’s something different about it, as if everything happening is supposed to. We’re supposed to be trapped here, in the ice cold cabin, fighting for warmth together. 

“Maybe I do” 

I laugh, thinking back on all the things I’ve imagined before. I know I have a dirty mind, but when my thoughts are filled with this man, I can’t help myself. I lean my head against his chest, pulling all the layers over us as I close my eyes. 

“Let me know when the storm is over” 

“You know you should never sleep in situations like these” 

“You’re here, I’ll be okay” 

***

I wake up shivering. The wind is still howling outside, and the room is icy. Josh has his eyes closed, probably sleeping. 

“Psst, Josh” I whisper, my body vibrating as I speak. He opens his eyes, body suddenly aware of the cold air surrounding him. 

“Shit, it’s cold” 

“Should we try to get back to the lodge?” I propose, breathing coming in quick and fast. This was not good. We’re literally going to get hypothermia if we keep like this. He stands up, arms around himself as he looks out the window. 

“It has calmed a bit, but seeing our condition, we’ll not be able to get all the snow away” 

“Fuck” I shutter, pressing the covers harder on me as if it’s going to work. He sits down beside me again, starting to remove his clothing. My mouth opens as he keeps going. 

“What the hell are you doing?” 

“Body heat, take your clothes off” 

“You know the first factor that you have hypothermia is that you want to remove your clothing?” I add, the idea being odd. I know it’s a legit thing, but at this point, the covers seem like the best options. 

“So, I guess you are not reason enough?”

“If I wasn’t freezing to death, I would laugh at that” 

He finally reveals himself, taking the last shirt off before moving to his pants. I shake my head, what am I going to do? 

“What are you waiting for, I’m going to freeze to death alone and you have to wait here for backup with my dead corpse” 

I oblige, starting to take off my clothes. The jacket, the sweater, the shirt… 

“How much am I taking off?” 

“As much as possible” 

“Josh, is it really necessary t-” 

“Oh, fuck it” he exclaims, taking hold of my pants and dragging them off, leaving me only in my underwear. He’s quick to lay down, pulling me on top of him and the covers over us. I almost faint from the warmth. His chest is hot, heart beating rapidly as his cold hands run over my naked back. Our legs tangled together, his crotch by mine as I try not to think about our position. I do my best to adjust my breathing, calming myself and forcing my brain to stop the conjuring of dirty images. The silence is deafening, and I ask the only appropriate question that comes to mind. 

“Why shouldn’t you sleep in situations like these?” 

“What?” 

“I know we shouldn’t, but why?” 

His hand keeps drawing circles on my back, occasionally touching the hem of my bra. 

“Because our body temperature lowers when we sleep, we don’t use as much energy, like an energy-saver” 

“Oh, yeah, makes sense. You keep active and work out so your body gets hotter. It’s such a simple concept, I just didn’t really think about it” I exclaim, a bit embarrassed it didn’t click faster. 

“Yeah… You know, there’s other ways to keep warm too” he continues in a whisper, and I move my head, holding myself up as I look down on him. Our faces inch closer, hot breaths colliding. 

“Like…” his hand moves under the hem of my panties, tugging at the fabric. I feel him getting harder under me, poking at my dripping heat. 

“Like-” I interrupt him with my lips, crashing into him. He answers quickly, opening his mouth and grabbing my ass. He squeezes, causing me to moan into him. My arms fly up, one beside his head and one feeling down his toned stomach. I take him in, his warmth, tracing every curve and muscle. 

I start grinding on him, elevating his hardness and making him groan into me. He grabs my thighs, pushing me closer and moving underneath. My body is on fire, kisses getting sloppier and wetter. One of his hands moves to my heat, letting me grind down on his fingers. 

“So this is how you’ve felt about me all this time” he coos, stroking the wet fabric. I force myself not to make sounds so early, after all, he gets me all worked up so quickly. How am I going to keep it up? 

“I can say the same about you” I state as my hand goes down to cup his bulge. He grabs my thigh harder, a weak attempt at controlling himself. My hand goes to trace the hem of his boxers, teasing him with the movements. He jolts into me, making me yelp and lose my balance, falling over him once again. He grabs the back of my neck pushing my lips down on his. His teeth clasp around my lower lip, definitely colouring it red. 

His hands move up to my back, fiddling with the clasp of my bra. It takes a couple of tries, and I try to hide my smile. 

“Need help?” 

“It’s the position we’re in” 

“What, me on top of you?”

“More the freezing cabin-bit, but maybe you’ve got a point” 

He manages to unhook it, dragging it off my arms and throwing it in the clothing pile. I’m about to kiss him again, when he takes hold of my body, one hand on my back and one on my thigh, and rolls us around, making him lay on top. The action leaves me in surprise, it was unexpected, but so is he. I should always be on my toes around him. 

He captures my lips again, mouth moving to my jaw and down my neck. I can’t help the sounds I make, each one a result of his tender touches. He’s warm and cozy, knowing exactly how to make me melt underneath. His mouth travels down my stomach, leaving kisses and bites all over. I whine at the pain, but he quickly licks and kisses the areas better again. Hands are kneading my breast and thighs, coming slowly up to my wet heat. I grab hold of him, not wanting him to go further down. 

“No, please, stay up here with me” 

It’s cold without his chest against mine, it feels empty and alone. He smiles at my request, pushing himself up again and letting me feel his lips. 

“I’m not saying I don’t want to, but-” 

“I know, we’ll keep each other warm” 

He speaks in a tone I’ve never heard before, making butterflies flap around in my stomach. It’s loving and caring. A deep voice which makes my toes curl. I’ve never felt as safe before. He takes hold of my underwear, dragging it down my legs. I help him, kicking it off my feet. He does the same with his, leaving both of us pressed together, in an ice-cold cabin, with a bunch of blankets, naked. I feel him stroke my folds, his hardness pressed against me. I yearn for him, waiting for him to take the first move. 

He does. Chests pressed up against each other, he lowers himself, slowly filling me up. Head is in the crook of my neck, breathing heavily as he keeps going. Shit, he’s big, not even feeling his thighs yet and still pressing in. 

“You’re doing so good for me” he whispers, breathing unevenly and struggling to form the words. Knowing that he’s also feeling this way makes it better. I take hold of his torso, quickly pushing myself completely down on him. We both moan in response, and he doesn’t waste time, starting to move immediately. The cabin fills up with the sound and smell of sex, whimpers and moans in symphony, no one close enough to hear. We’re here, alone and together. 

His pelvis rubs against mine, giving me that extra bit of friction to my core. It starts building up, the warmth, the withholding pleasure wishing to cave. His arm takes hold of my leg, lifting it up, letting him dig himself even deeper. My back arches as he does, reaching my cervix, pain and pleasure shooting through me at the same time. 

“Fuck, Josh I’m gonna come” 

“Mhm, yeah me too” 

He pumps in and out, almost leaving me before slamming into me again. His hand grabs my side harshly, leaving marks which’ll stay for days. My arms go around him, pressing him harder against me, elevating the friction and rubbing. I can’t help it, my nails digging into his back, scraping and crying for release. His lips capture mine in a passionate kiss, and I finally come, clenching around him. Feeling my whole body twitch with pent up energy and ecstasy. He rides me through it, pumping until he digs himself deep, coating my walls in white release. 

The room is filled with deep breaths, bodies tight as his arms go around me, head moving up to kiss my cheek. I stroke his back hand hair, not getting enough of him. I just had sex with Josh Washington, but… was it just to keep warm? My own insecurities get the better of me, and as if on cue, he meets my eyes with his, looking for something. 

“You okay?” 

“I mean, I’m warm” 

“That’s not what I mean” 

I sigh, the high slowly falling, making my body limb and tired. 

“What happens now?” 

He smiles, leaning down and kissing me again, this time, more romantic, more real. 

“I guess we lay here until the sun comes up. Then we get to the lodge, and maybe we can do this again” 

“Again?” 

“You know, really do it again” 

“Fucking hell Washington, that’s not what I mean” 

“I know what you mean, and you should probably stick to calling me Josh”

[tillichan]

⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ Your life in Blue Lock for @xo-adeline ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒

Being the manager of the best football team in Europe, Bastard Munchen, is not an easy task. But somehow you immediately fit into this team, becoming an inalienable part of Bastard Munchen. Even though, players may seem like they don't care about you, but that's no true! Conversely, they've a soft spot for you and value your contribution to the team. Your intimidating look is actually a secret weapon of your team you don't know about it though which helped them to make their rivals give up without a fight more than once.

Rival A: Hey, bro, look at this manager. She's planning on murdering or something like this? Rival B: She looks like she's going to kill us if we score even one goal. Bastard Munchen: What are you saying about our manager? Rivals — crap their pants, your team — pleased with themselves, meanwhile you just have no clue about all this stuff.

Usually you do the ordinary manager stuff like paperwork, maintaining the team schedule, taking care of players. But your ability to see a little things and your knowledge of psychology help Bastard Munchen to analyze their matches or their rivals. Sometimes you speak your mind without always thinking about it first during meetings. Your seniors are dissatisfied with it, but your team love your sarcastic and witty personality. And when you subtly mock seniors or team's rivals? Your team adore you! But your routine was interrupted by invitation to Blue Lock, your team as players, you as their manager assistant, because Blue Lock project needs more workers. And if you think that being a manager of Bastard Munchen is chaos, no, being a manager of Blue Lock is real chaos! Where should I start?.. Well, let's start from this part. Now you've not a team of professional football players, you've a team of professional simps-guardians, who literally growl at poor Blue Lock boys, who want to ask you for help, for example. Bastard Munchen are very proud of their manager and brag about you every. single. minute.

Kaiser: Wanna ask manager for help, Yoichi? What a pity, she is my manager! Anri in the background: But she is not only your manager...

Even Noel Noa brags about you in his composed manner! Ego didn't understand his behavior at first. But when you started speaking your mind during meetings and teasing Anri with him... Well, you're really not bad, so Ego thinks now. I'm sorry, Ego-san, this manager is already taken. Bastard Munchen are very chaotic team, you still love them. Despite their attempts to protect you from Blue Lock boys, you've a lot of friends here and carry out the duties of a manager great.

Color of your ego — Dark Blue

Falling in love with a new manager of Bastard Munchen is the last thing Michael Kaiser expected out of his life. But here you are, beautiful, smart and full of love for him. You broke the walls Michael had built around his heart over the years and showered him with love. Even though Michael hate being loved because it makes him weak, he also wants to be loved by someone, strange as it may sound.

♥ You two look so cool together! Your couple aesthetic and aura is something else! Tattoos, blue roses, similar hair colors and intimidating smug look. I bet, you're the hottest topic of discussion in the community! ♥ Michael loves that you're a sarcastic person and tend to speak your mind without always thinking about it. Your personalities suits each other, you both are witty, independent and have your own time of self-doubt. It helps you to understand each other and work on your weaknesses together. ♥ Especially Kaiser loves teasing you whenever you're falling and tripping all over the place. After he caught you, of course. ♥ Since Michael is interested in psychology, as you do, you two have a lot of deep conversations and discussions about it. He'd probably be interested in true crime too because of you. ♥ Please, take care of him in the morning. Michael wakes up in a really bad mood, but mornings are actually not that bad if you're with him~ ♥ Michael hates receiving gifts, he doesn't know how he's supposed to react. Well, if it's not your gifts. Even though, he is still bad at showing good reactions, but he is happy that you think about him.

Alexis Ness acts towards you as your older brother. You and Kaiser are the most important people in his life. Honestly, Alexis loves and protects you even more than he admires Kaiser. He thinks about you as a little sister, because he never received love and understanding from his real siblings. And as your older brother he protects you a lot! If you and Alexis come in, while Kaiser's doing his morning routine consists of standing before the mirror naked, gazing at himself while having a conversation with himself, Alexis will cover your eyes with his hands. It doesn't matter that Michael is your boyfriend. Don't worry, dear, your brother protect your heart from all jerks around you!

Noel Noa is your proud father figure. He always acts cool, but he loves you from the bottom of his heart. Your smart tactics and ideas helped Bastard Munchen more than once, not to mention that he loves that you can keep in line the behavior of the team. Every time Noa has meeting with coaches in Blue Lock, your name keeps coming up. And if Ego or another coach ask him to give you his team? No. That's impossible.

Itsuki Wakatsuki has a fattest crush on you since you first appeared in Blue Lock. The way you tease your, and not only your, team, your sarcastic and witty behavior, your strange but cute habit to do something and then just totally stop and move on, he was smitten with you! Even though your team is kinda aggressive when someone tries to approach you, Itsuki talks to you whenever he has a chance. He enjoys talking to you about football, mocking others players or sleeping on your lap, because he's always tired. The last one happened only once, because your team raised a riot.

Karasu Tabito is your best friend in Blue Lock. You're cool and smart girl, who is also witty and loves analyzing people, consider you're Tabito's favorite person in the whole Blue Lock. Karasu doesn't like receiving a present because he hates to be forced to feel happy. But somehow you've the ability to make him always feel happy not only because of little gifts but also because of little gestures which always get to the point. You two spend your time together analyzing games or players or just talking about your life. Karasu built walls around his heart. And you're the only one person who are able to tear it down.

Nagi Seishiro is one more your Blue Lock friend. You two have a lot in common! Sleeping, playing video games, reading manga, for example. You and Nagi bond over similar hobbies and got along well. You two can be found together reading manga Nagi has a lot of manga apps, so you two always can find something interesting or playing video game. Nagi would like to rest on you lap after a rough training session, but unfortunately this place is already taken. As you do, Nagi loves teasing people around in his own way. So you two have a lot of fun together, imagining Barou Maid Cafe or football players as animals.

[brandyllyn]

Frostbite

Max Phillips x f!reader

Summary: By all that was holy in the world, you were going to slap the ever-loving shit out of this man. Words: 1.9k

For the #pedrostoriesgift24 Holiday Gift Exchange. @almostfoxglove asked for:

* max gets reader/character for their office's secret santa (or vice versa) * office christmas party

And y'all know I can't resist Max.

My Masterlist <- So much more Max stuff here y'all. I've missed him.

Rated: Teen Warnings: This is romantic and sweet and I make no apologies for that. Max being Max, however.

If you had to listen to George Michael complain one more time about what happened last Christmas, you were going to cause a scene.

Looking around the room, you took some small solace that no one else seemed to be having a good time either. Derek had taken up a post near the exit, obviously waiting until just enough time had passed that he could make a break for it. Malika was on her third hard cider - if she wasn’t careful she’d be the Monday morning gossip.

And the very next day, you gave it away…

You slip your phone from your pocket as surreptitiously as possible, checking the clock. Not even 6:30, there was still the speech from the CEO, the sales award, and of course the office secret Santa to get through before you could make your escape. They always saved secret Santa for last - everyone marching one by one to open their gift from the table in the center of the room. Showing everyone the mug they had been given.

It was always a mug.

The table looked extra sad this year - filled almost entirely with bags, half of which didn’t even have a festive spray of tissue. It was the laziest possible wrapping job. Nothing more clearly said ‘I put no thought into this’ than a dollar store bag, taped shut.

You had wrapped your gift. An oblong box with a festive red bow. Inside was a designer tie - one you had been lucky to find at a local thrift store. You had no idea if your giftee would like it, he ran so hot and cold you never could tell if he even liked you. Or anybody for that matter.

“Hey there sweet cheeks, looking for me?”

Speak of the devil.

“Never.”

He sidles up next to you, all long limbs and expensive cologne. His suit is perfect; crisp navy blue with a sparkly snowflake tie. As usual he stands too close, forcing you to shift slightly sideways to avoid brushing against him.

“You tease,” he pouts with a puffed out lower lip. “You’re gonna break my heart.”

Max Phillips, rising star of the sales department. Arrogant, conceited asshole and inveterate flirt. He was handsome too, which was honestly just annoying. If someone was going to be that obnoxious, they should at least look like half a roasted ham.

“I have it on good authority you don’t have one,” you point out.

He pats his chest for a moment, giving you a wounded look. “Stacey tell you that? Don’t be jealous, baby.”

“Miranda.”

He has the decency to hesitate, eyes darting across the room before back to you. “Well, someone had to be my shoulder to cry on.” You snort at that and he grins, shifting closer again and almost backing you to the wall. “And don’t worry about them, that’s business.”

You were pretty sure whatever that was you had walked in on in the copy room hadn’t been ‘business’ but you don’t point it out. Miranda hadn’t been the same, something viscerally off about her, ever since.

“You,” he leaned into you and you felt a cubicle wall at your back, “you would be nothing but pleasure wouldn’t you?”

“We are at work.”

“Most couples meet at work.”

“We’re not a couple.”

“We’re not a couple, yet.” He takes a deep breath and frowned. “You don’t take good care of yourself.”

“Excuse you?”

It came out close to a shriek, several heads turning your direction. Max gave them a dazzlingly wide smile and as one they smiled back. Even Richard, the grumpiest at the best of times, blushed. He blushed.

“You’re not eating right.”

By all that was holy in the world, you were going to slap the ever-loving shit out of this man. He wasn’t even looking at you, eyes scanning the room while he talked out of the corner of his mouth. “Dave is doing his speech,” you try to point out but Max gives you his attention long enough to roll his eyes.

“Don’t change the subject, babydoll.”

“What subject?”

Max takes the proverbial shovel you offer. “You’re gaunt. You’re not getting the right vitamins.”

“From the man who has an ‘allergy’ to sunlight.”

The grin he gives you is wolfish. “That’s documented. I have a doctor’s note.” You can’t help the small smile and of course he notices. “There now, was that so hard? I’m being charming all over the place here.”

“Why?”

The word is a hiss of air and he blinks at you, confused. “What do you mean, why?”

“You’ve fucked half the office.” You try very hard to keep your tone too low for anyone else to hear. “Am I keeping you from bingo or something?”

Another one of those deep breaths and he leans in to you, so close you think he might actually nuzzle you. “I like you.”

You snort, turning away.

“I do.” He scans the room again before he turns, blocking your view with his wide shoulders. “Look at me.”

“No.”

“Look at me.”

“I said no.”

There’s silence for several heartbeats before he admits, “You intrigue me.”

“You’re a liar.”

“All the time,” he concedes. “But not right now. There’s something for my people, a knowing of sorts…”

He trails off and you can’t help but ask, “Your people? Wasps?”

“Something like that.”

“Max Phillips!” The call of his name comes from out of the blue.

“Gotta run, sugar tits, duty calls.”

Of course he’s won the sales award. He shakes the CEO’s hand while accepting the plaque, turning and smiling - not pausing for even a moment when he realizes no one is going to take his photo. It doesn’t stop him from playing mayor of the cubicle farm, waving at a few people before stepping to the side. You notice him looking at you and studiously avoid meeting his eyes.

The secret Santa starts and you take a quick tally of how many people participated this year. Even if half the people make a fuss about it, you should be able to leave in fifteen minutes - twenty tops.

Since Max won the award he gets to go first, picking up the box you had carefully wrapped and tearing into it with the gusto of a toddler. He fingers the silk and you swear his eyes dart to where you’re standing. 

There is no way he could know you’d bought it for him. No way.

“Looks like we may have a tie for best present.”

People laugh at his terrible joke and he steps to the side, letting the next person fetch their mug. You try to be surreptitious as you gauge his reaction. Does he like it? Does he think it’s tacky? With one hand he pulls off the one he’s wearing and loops the length of red silk around his collar, deftly tying a full Windsor.

It looks good on him.

Dammit.

Your name is called and you shake yourself out of your stupor, avoiding looking to the side. The present is in a bright orange bag - not even a holiday color - and stapled closed. You reach in and pull out the small bottle.

“Iron supplements.”

There’s a small scattering of applause and you stare at the offending object for so long the new HR lady has to gently move you aside. 

Iron supplements.

Your secret Santa got you fucking iron supplements.

“You don’t look happy.”

The tie you so carefully picked out mocks you. You put thought into his present - and your Santa did what? Clean out their medicine cabinet? You wouldn’t be surprised if the bottle was already open.

No, you were not happy. You were fuming.

“You look pale.”

“Shut up.”

“And you’ve been having headaches lately.”

“How would you know?”

“I told you, you intrigue me.”

Something clicks and you finally look up at him, bottle clenched in your fist. “This was you?”

“You’re anemic.”

He sounds so absurdly reasonable you barely resist the urge to kick him. “You are not my doctor.”

“Do you have a doctor?”

You don’t, not that he needs to know that.

“If you did they might tell you your iron count is dangerously low. You should get checked for an autoimmune disease.”

“I do not have an autoimmune disease.” Derek shoots you a surprised look and you give him a wide smile before jerking Max’s arm and pulling him into a supply closet. “This is not appropriate. On like a hundred levels.”

“Why aren’t you taking care of yourself?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Tell me.”

“Don’t take that tone with me.” You shove a finger into his chest. “You may get other people to leap to your bidding but I’m not one of them.”

“I know,” he grins, “it’s fantastic.”

“Fantastic?” you repeat.

“Fantastic.” He’s faster that you expect, grabbing your wrist and flattening your palm to his chest. “Why aren’t you taking care of yourself?”

He sounds genuinely concerned and you deflate, giving in. “I don’t have the money for fresh food. I’m living off ramen at the moment, okay? I’ll probably develop scurvy soon.”

“We pay you a decent amount - not what you’re worth, of course - but market value.”

You don’t bother asking how he knows that. “My ex took a loan out in my name. I’ve been paying it off.”

“Why isn’t he paying it off?”

“Because he’s an asshole and I can’t make him do anything.”

“Want me to kill him for you?”

It’s said so casually you almost think he means it. “It’s fine. It’s only another year. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re going to get rickets.”

“Isn’t that what Tiny Tim had?”

He nods. “Yes, and you’ll be begging for a Christmas bonus just like he did, too.”

“I think that was his dad.”

“Which one did Kermit play?”

You scoff, trying to pull your hand away from him. “Have you only ever seen the Muppet version of a Christmas Carol?”

He doesn’t let you go. “It’s the only one worth seeing.”

“Max,” you say softly. “I’ll be fine. Thank you, for worrying about me. Even if this-” you hold up the supplements with your other hand “-is by far the worst gift I have ever gotten.”

He gifts you with that wide, easy smile of his. “Let me buy you dinner, to make up for it.”

“Sure you don’t already have a date?”

“I’d cancel any plans for you.” If you didn’t know better you’d say he was serious.

“Big words, don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep.”

“I never make a promise I can’t keep.”

He’s standing close, so close your chest brushes his when you take a breath. “Max…”

Tingles shoot to your fingertips as his lips capture yours. A rush of heat floods through you and you can’t help but moan when he sinks his fingers into the back of your neck. The sound he makes is close to a growl, his mouth opening and his tongue is suddenly there, licking at the seam of your lips.

Would it be wrong to climb him like a tree in the supply closet?

He apparently has the same idea, lifting you from underneath your ass with an ease that takes your breath away. Your back is pressed to the wire shelves and his hips settle between your thighs as though he’s always belonged there. Your neck arches into the palm of his hand and he nuzzles beneath your ear.

“Take your damn iron pills.”

“What?”

“Your iron,” his teeth scrape along your jaw, “and maybe a multi-vitamin too.”

You were going to slap him. Just soon as your head stopped spinning from his kiss.

For updates on stories please follow and turn on notifications for @brandyllyn-writes

Tagging in @almostfoxglove once more. Hope you liked your Max.

[gensideas]

CHOICES WE CANT UNDO.

summary. y/n relapses at a party, only to be surprised by a disappointed rafe.

content * advisory. relapse. alcohol. drugs. pills.

The music thumped through the walls of Topper's mansion like a heartbeat, pulsing with life and energy. I stood at the edge of the party, a drink in hand, feeling like an outsider in my own skin. The laughter and chatter of my classmates, the booming bass of the music, enveloped me, yet I felt strangely disconnected. It had been a long time since I’d been in a place like this, surrounded by the shimmering lights and the intoxicating allure of what I once loved.

“Y/n! You made it!” Topper’s voice sliced through the noise. He appeared out of the crowd, a wide grin plastered on his face. His sandy blond hair glinted under the strobe lights, and for a moment, I couldn’t help but smile back. “Yeah, well, I couldn’t let you throw a party without me,” I said, forcing a lightness into my tone. My heart sank a little as I spotted the familiar faces of our friends, all of them looking carefree and oblivious to the weight I carried. “Come on! Let’s get you a real drink. This party needs some life!”

Topper grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the kitchen. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, cheap cologne, and something sharper that made my stomach twist. I should have turned back, but the pull of nostalgia was strong. As we reached the bar, I caught sight of Rafe across the room. He was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, a frown etched on his face.

I had missed him so much during my time away, but the sight of him now filled me with dread. How could I explain why I was here? Why I had chosen to come back to this chaos, even when I knew I should stay away? “Hey, Y/n! You’re looking good!” Kelce’s voice broke through my thoughts. He leaned against the counter, a smirk playing on his lips. I couldn't help but notice the way his eyes darted toward the stash of pills he had tucked away in his pocket. My stomach churned again.

“Want to have some fun?” “No, thanks,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m good with just a drink.” “Come on, don’t be boring,” he teased, but I saw the glint of something more in his eyes. “It’s just a little pick-me-up. Everyone’s doing it. You’ll feel amazing!” I glanced at Topper, who was busy pouring himself a drink. “I really don’t want to,” I insisted, my voice firmer this time.

The last thing I needed was to indulge in the very thing I was trying to escape. “Suit yourself,” Kelce shrugged, but I could see the disappointment flicker across his face. I turned away, trying to focus on Topper. “Did you see Rafe?” I asked, my voice quieter now. “He looks upset.” “Yeah, well, he’s been a little tense lately. You know how he is,” Topper replied, pouring tequila with a flourish. “But you’re here now, and that’s what matters. Let’s get this party started!”

He held out a shot glass, and I took it, feeling the weight of it in my hand. “Cheers?” Topper’s grin was infectious, and I found myself raising the glass. “Cheers,” I echoed, but my heart wasn’t in it. I downed the tequila in one go, the burn of it igniting something deep within me.

“See? That’s the spirit!” Topper laughed, and I forced a smile, even as the familiar ache of temptation coiled around my thoughts. “Hey, how about we dance?” Topper suggested, pulling me toward the living room. The music was louder here, the crowd thickening like a wave crashing against the shore.

I swayed to the beat, my body moving almost instinctively, but my mind was elsewhere. I saw Rafe again, standing like a statue, and the way he looked at me—disappointment layered with concern—made my heart race. “Hey, you alright?” Topper asked, noticing my distraction. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’m fine,”

I lied, forcing a laugh as I stepped back from the crowd. “I just need some air.”

“Okay, but don’t disappear on me!” he called after me, but I was already weaving my way through the mass of bodies toward the back patio.

The cool night air hit my face, and I leaned against the railing, breathing deeply. The stars twinkled above me, distant and serene, while down below, the party raged on. I closed my eyes, letting the chill seep into my bones, mixing with the heat of the tequila still burning inside me.

“Y/n?” Rafe’s voice cut through the silence, and I opened my eyes to see him standing a few feet away, his expression a mix of relief and frustration. “Hey,” I said, my voice small.

“Why did you come back here?” His words were clipped, and I could feel the tension radiating from him.

“I thought… I thought it would be nice to see everyone,” I admitted, avoiding his gaze.

“Nice? Or dangerous?” He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. “You know how these parties go. You shouldn’t be here.”

“I can handle it,” I protested, but even I could hear the uncertainty in my voice. “Can you?” he challenged, crossing his arms. “You just got back from rehab, Y/n. You’re still fragile. This isn’t the place for you.”

“I’m not fragile,” I snapped, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. “I just wanted to feel normal again!”

“Normal?” Rafe laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “This isn’t normal. This is a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Maybe I just wanted to have some fun for once!” I shot back, anger flaring.

“I’m tired of being treated like a fucking delicate flower.” “Fun? Really? You call this fun?” His voice rose slightly, and I could see the muscles in his jaw tighten.

“You’re putting yourself at risk, and I can’t stand by and watch you throw it all away.”

“I’m not throwing anything away!” I yelled, frustration boiling over. “You don’t get to decide what I can handle!”

“Maybe not y/n, but I know you,” he said, his voice lowering.

“I know how hard you’ve fought to get here, and I don’t want to see you lose that battle.”

For a moment, we stood there, the tension thick between us. I could feel the weight of his words, the truth behind them, and it made my chest ache.

“Rafe…” I started, but he cut me off.

“Just promise me you won’t do anything stupid tonight. Promise me you’ll stay away from Kelce,” he said, his voice firm but laced with concern.

“I promise,” I said softly, but in the back of my mind, doubt lingered.

“Good,” he replied, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “Let’s go back inside. I don’t want you out here alone.” As we stepped back into the chaos of the party, I felt a rush of warmth at his presence beside me.

But as the music thumped louder and laughter echoed off the walls, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was teetering on the edge of something dangerous.

The night wore on, and as the alcohol flowed, the lines between fun and recklessness blurred. I tried to keep my promise, but the temptation was like a siren’s call. “Hey, Y/n!” Kelce appeared again, a few friends trailing behind him, their faces flushed with excitement.

“You’re missing out! Come on, just one little hit. It’ll make you feel amazing.” I hesitated, my heart racing. Rafe was watching from a distance, his eyes locked on me, a silent plea in his gaze.

“I told you I’m good,” I said, shaking my head.

“Don’t be a buzzkill,”

one of his friends chimed in, laughter bubbling around us. “Just try it!”

“Seriously, Y/n, don’t be like that,” Kelce urged, his tone coaxing. “You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

I glanced back at Rafe, who was now talking to Topper, his back turned to me. The pressure was mounting, and for a split second, I felt the walls closing in.

“Just one,” I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop myself. Kelce’s eyes lit up, and in an instant, he was pulling out the small baggie, the familiar sight making my heart race.

“See? Just a little fun! You’ll feel so much better.” As I took the small pill from him, I felt a rush of exhilaration mixed with dread. I slipped it into my mouth, my heart racing as I swallowed.

“Just like old times, huh?” Kelce grinned, and the laughter from the crowd faded into a dull roar in my ears. I turned to look for Rafe, but he was gone. Panic surged through me, and I felt the world tilting beneath my feet.

“Y/n?” Topper’s voice called out, concern etched on his face as he approached. “What are you doing?”

“I’m fine!” I said quickly, but I could feel the truth slipping away from me.

“Are you sure?” he pressed, his eyes searching mine. “You don’t look fine.”

“Just let me enjoy myself,” I snapped, feeling the heat of shame creeping into my cheeks.

“Y/n, please,” Topper pleaded.

“Don’t do this. You’ve worked too hard to get back on your feet.”

But the words were drowned out by the swelling music, and I felt myself drifting further away from reality. The laughter and chatter faded into the background, replaced by a warmth that seeped into my bones. I lost track of time, the world swirling around me as I danced, laughed, and let go of everything that had been weighing me down. For a moment, I felt free, but beneath the surface, a storm was brewing.

“Y/n!” I heard Rafe’s voice cut through the haze, and my heart dropped. He appeared suddenly, his expression fierce as he pushed through the crowd. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m having fun!” I shouted, my voice slurring slightly.

“Fun? Is this what you call fun?” His anger was palpable, and I felt a flicker of fear. “You promised you wouldn’t do this.”

“I’m fine!” I insisted, but I could see the disappointment etched across his face.

“Kelce!” Rafe turned to him, fury in his eyes. “What the hell did you give her?”

“Relax, man. It’s just a little pick-me-up,” Kelce shrugged, but Rafe’s glare could have burned a hole through him.

“Get away from her,” Rafe warned, stepping closer to me, his presence a calming force amidst the chaos.

“You don’t get to drag her back into this.”

“I’m fine, Rafe!” I protested, but as the world spun around me, I realized I was far from fine.

“Y/n, look at me,” he said, his voice steady but laced with concern. “You need to come with me. Now.”

“No! I want to stay!” I fought against him, but he reached for my arm, his grip firm as he pulled me toward the door. “Topper, help me!” Rafe called, and I heard my best friend rushing after us.

“What the hell, Rafe?” Topper said, confusion painted across his face. “What’s going on?”

“He’s trying to take me away!”

I cried, desperation clawing at my throat. “Because you’re not safe here!” Rafe shot back, his eyes blazing. I felt a wave of nausea wash over me as we stumbled into the cool night air. The reality of what I had done began to sink in, and I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes.

“Y/n, talk to me,” Rafe said, his voice softer now as he turned to face me, concern flooding his features.

“I didn’t mean to,” I whispered, shame crashing over me like a wave. “I just wanted to feel normal.”

“You are normal,” he assured me, but I could see the disappointment in his eyes. “You don’t need this—any of this—to be happy.”

“I thought I could handle it,” I admitted, my voice trembling. “But I messed up.”

“We all mess up,” Rafe said gently, reaching for my hand. “But you need to know that you’re not alone in this. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.” The sincerity in his eyes made my heart ache.

“I’m so sorry, Rafe,” I said, tears spilling down my cheeks. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“You could never disappoint me, doll” he replied, pulling me into his arms. I melted against him, feeling the warmth and safety of his embrace.

“Just promise me you won’t do this again. We’ll figure it out together.”

“I promise,”

I whispered, feeling the weight of my mistakes slowly begin to lift. As the night wore on, I felt the pull of temptation starting to fade, replaced by the warmth of Rafe’s love and support.

Together, we would face the challenges ahead, and I knew I wasn’t alone anymore. In that moment, I realized that the path to recovery wasn’t about being perfect; it was about facing my demons and choosing to rise above them. I had fallen, but with Rafe by my side, I would find my way back.

© gensideas 2024

[dragonfly0808]

Is There Anything so Undoing as a Daughter?

So, I just finished watching Arcane a bit back and I absolutely love the dynamic between Silco and Jinx and was kinda disappointed we didn’t get to see any flashbacks of them in s2.

They didn’t have the healthiest of dynamics but I still found it so interesting and gratifying to see that Silco really did care and love Jinx even if his actions weren’t always the best for her.

So, I decided to write a bunch of little moments of theirs over the years, how they became father and daughter, how Powder became Jinx, how Silco’s goons survived Jinx’s menace behavior and more!

some are more funny some more heartfelt some more tragic

I’ll include on this post what is up until now my fave chapter and the link to the story on AO3

The Bomb Thing

(How Jinx finally learned to build bombs and instantly became the goons greatest fear. Sevika doesn’t get paid enough for this)

It’d been a slow day, running errands and checking up on everything, Jinx coming along, not really paying attention, her focus on some kind of gadget she was working on.

Since taking on the name ‘Jinx’, the girl seemed just the tiniest bit more comfortable, taking fewer naps and starting to tinker around instead of just spending her days drawing.

As they were on their way back to the Last Drop, Jinx suddenly stopped, winding the metal monkey she’d been working on and setting it down at the entrance of an empty alley, going to lean against the building next to it, waiting.

Silco said nothing, simply raising an amused eyebrow.

After ten seconds of suspenseful silence, Jinx groaned in frustration, kicking at the gravel beneath her before going to retrieve the monkey, “It didn’t work!”

“What are you trying to do?” He questioned as she joined him once more, falling into step with him.

“I’m trying to make it blow up! But it just won’t! It’s always the same, they never work. The only one that worked was-” she cut herself off for a second, her head jerking as she no doubt was remembering the warehouse explosion, “and I can’t even take credit for that because it really was those dumb blue sphere thingies!”

HexTech. It’d been HexTech.

Silco hummed, considering, “Why do you want to build bombs?”

Jinx shrugged, “It’s fun.”

Well that was an unusual hobby for a child to have. But this was Zaun, he wouldn’t concern himself over Jinx apparently enjoying trying to build explosives, he was more concerned about what would happen if it actually worked and she didn’t know what to do.

“Do you want to learn?”

Jinx tilted her head, “I mean… I kinda wanna figure it out by myself but… I don’t know I’m getting kinda impatient.”

Once they reached The Last Drop, he knew what to do, seeing Sevika standing at the bar, he approached, “Sevika, fetch me Cerys, tell him I have a job for him.”

Sevika gave a glance to Jinx, who was still fidgeting with the monkey-bomb. She raised a single eyebrow, “You sure you wanna mess with that boss?”

“Just go.”

Sevika sighed heavily as she pushed herself away from the bar, going to head downtown, muttering something about ‘bad idea’.

An hour later, there was a knock at his office door and Cerys, one of the most prolific ‘demolition’ experts in the undercity came sauntering in, grinning as he went to sit down, leaning back on the chair.

“Evening boss, Sevika tells me you got a job for me?

“It’s a special job, one I expect you to carry out carefully and with upmost discretion.”

Cerys laughed, “Sorry boss but ‘careful’ and ‘discretion’ aren’t exactly my strong suits.”

Silco said nothing, starring him down.

He quickly stopped laughing, clearing his throat, “So, what’s the job?”

Silco took a moment to inspect the man, enjoying the way he started squirming under his gaze before turning, “Jinx, come here please.”

Jinx looked up from her gadget, going to stand next to him, Cerys’s eyes widening, having not noticed the kid before.

“This is Jinx, as you can see she has a certain passion for explosives. You will teach her the basics. Basics only, she can figure out the rest by herself.”

Jinx straightened up at the words, excitement shimmering in her eyes.

Cerys burst out laughing, “Alright alright- I’d heard you had a kid but that’s-” his laughter slowly died down as he realized there was no punchline coming, “You’re actually serious?”

Silco scowled as he starred the bulkier man down.

Cerys awkwardly cleared his throat, “Uh- okay uh- kid can I take a look at that?”

Jinx handed over the monkey-bomb with no resistance, Cerys quickly inspecting the gadget, “Alright uh… this is not bad for a beginner, not bad at all, you could probably crack it on your own eventually. Uh… how old are you?”

“Eleven.”

Cerys looked up at Silco, eyes pleading.

Silco continued to stare him down.

Cerys cleared his throat yet again as he returned the monkey-bomb, “Well alright then uh- we can head down to my workshop-”

“You’ll teach her here.”

“I can go get my stuff and I’ll teach you… an eleven year old kid… the basics… on how to build bombs…” he gave one last valiant attempt as Jinx cheered, excitedly going to gather her designs, “Are you sure?”

“Cerys. Do what I ask of you, and let me handle the repercussions of it.” Silco said with finality.

Cerys sighed, defeated before going to stand up, “Right now?”

“It can wait until tomorrow.”

“…see you tomorrow boss.”

Silco told himself that it was a strategic move, if Jinx started learning now how to make bombs, it might prove beneficial in the future.

It had nothing to do with how excited the little girl got as she started twirling around the room, the happiest he’d ever seen her.

***

Cerys slowly left Silco’s office, heading down the stairs and leaning against the doorframe, where Sevika was waiting.

“You didn’t warn me… why didn’t you warn me?”

Sevika snorted cruelly, “Where would the fun be in that?”

Cerys ran a hand through his hair, “I’d heard the rumors that he had a kid but…”

“Kid’s gonna be a fucking menace, mark my words.” Sevika said as she rolled her eyes, “And to add insult to injury… she’s got Silco wrapped around her little finger.”

“Little fingers that will soon be handling bombs… I’m fucked if that kid gets hurt aren’t I?”

“Yup.”

“What if she blows herself up?”

“No amount of money will save you from Silco’s wrath.”

“Not helping!”

***

Jinx was practically bouncing off the walls in excitement as she listened to Cerys’s explanations and as he showed her what she’d been doing wrong.

She made it clear that she only wanted to be taught the basics, things like more complex timers she wanted to figure out by herself. She knew she’d be able to do it.

Cerys seemed nervous about her ‘out-of-pocket’ ideas but was a good teacher, he clearly knew what he was talking about.

Jinx soaked it all in, ignoring the whispers in her ears trying to remind her of what had happened the first and only time one of her bombs had worked, pretending not to see Mylo’s shadow standing in the corner of the room.

After two days of lessons, Cerys let her set a small bomb off in an empty alleyway, Jinx screeching in victory when it went off.

Days later, she told Silco to wait on the stairway, getting him to hide with her as she allowed one of her mousers to roll out, to where Sevika and a few guards were.

Silco tensed up, going to move before-

“BOMB!” Sevika screamed, the bomb going off and-

Covering everyone in glitter and blue paint, Jinx cackling at the guards stunned expressions. Sevika looked like she was about to pop a blood vessel, making her laugh even harder.

Silco just sighed, containing a proud smile as he strolled out like nothing had happened, “You should be more aware of your surroundings.” He scolded the guards, Jinx going to hop up on the bar as Silco went to get himself a drink and her some juice, unbothered by the glitter covering the bar, after all, they had a few hours until it was time to open the Last Drop, “Get someone to clean up.”

Sevika took a deep breath, promising herself she’d give Cerys a good punch the next time she saw him. She knew it, fucking blue menace.

[jazeswhbhaven]

Henlo, Merry Christmas my lovelies!

I hope everyone is having fun, got what they wanted, enjoying time with their families (or if you're alone or with your furbabies what have you, that you're doing well too! <3)

I'm still working on inbox requests! But please accept this mini headcanon christmas post from me <3

Astra's First Christmas in Hell!

Astra: This is insane....I cannot believe that happened.... (walks into her room with several gifts in hand but sweat running down her face)

*loud knocking and pounding on the other side of the door*

Satan: Astra, open up! I'm not done with my gift yet...!

Mammon: There's so much more where that came from, my love, my treasure. Those small gifts won't suit you.

Satan: Will you shut the fuck up? It's MY turn you had her all day yesterday...

Mammon: Oh? If I'm remembering correctly we both had her yesterday.

Astra: (slides down her door) Listen, I love you both. Please give me a minute. I'm so overwhelmed.

*Astra's phone buzzes suddenly*

[Beelzebub: Hehe, did you get my gift Astra? Make sure you eat all of it properly for the full effect. Meet me at the club later <3]

[Bael: Don't eat that. P l e a s e]

[Belphegor: Aye, Astra! Merry Christmas from me his Maj, Belphie. He's dozin' off per usual. I ain't had time to wrap your gift so come by soon to pick it up. We'll be waitin'.]

[Agares: Don't bother showin' up darlin' I'm coming to you to bring over my gift.]

Astra: How do they know who's texting at the same time???

*phone buzzes more*

[Lucifer: Merry Christmas. Make sure to use the throat spray Buer made. It will help with the soreness.]

[Leviathan: I guess I should formally send you a Merry Christmas text. Even though you should be here in Hades so I can you to your face. I'd like to see it when I also tell you your gifts are trash. None of them are from me, which you aren't getting any.]

[Foras: Pst, Miss Astra, His Majesty doesn't want to tell you, but he has a gift here for you. Visit Hades soon please :)]

Astra: (sighs) Well, today would be a busy one huh? I wonder if I can visit everyone today...

Mammon: (still on the other side of the door with Satan) Do you need a ride? I can take you~

Satan: My motorcycle is faster. We can ride in style. You can't come Mammon you won't fit.

Mammon: Of course. Your tiny bike is way too small. I'm surprised you have room for Astra. Her ass alone is-

Astra: OKAY I GET THE POINT. We'll go later....

*phone buzzes again*

[Asmodeus: Hi dear <3 Look up from your phone for me?]

Astra: Huh? (looks up to see Asmodeus naked in her room except there's a present box over his crotch)

Asmodeus: Come see what I got you~ (winks as the box twitches)

Astra: I would ask how you got in here, but I already know the answer. I think uh...I'll open my gift another time.

Asmodeus: Awh, really? I spent a lot of time making sure it's to your liking...I heard you like..."double" the amount of fun.

Astra: Asmo...did you?

Asmodeus: Yes <3

*the door is suddenly splintering and cracking from Satan ripping at it*

Satan: FUCK OFF ASMODEUS GO AWAY.

Astra: ......I at least hope Minhyeok is doing okay and that Ppyong delivered my gift....

Meanwhile on Earth

Ppyong: Minhyeok!!! Bestie!!!! Merry Christmas, aye! I come with good news from Miss Astra.

Minhyeok: ??? Is she coming home!?

Ppyong: No....but she sent gifts, aye! Here!~ (pulls out a small bag from his belly pouch that suddenly grows larger once it hits the floor)

Minheyok: Oh...(pulls out a locket that has a photo of him and Astra)

Ppyong: Isn't it cute, aye? Miss Astra had the necklace custom made in Tartaros! Real gold, aye! I'm super jealous.

Minhyeok: Astra...I wish she was here so I could thank her properly, I- (he suddenly sees another gift, a book and a pair of panties inside a sealed bag) Eh? What is this?

Ppyong: (grins) Me and some of the nobles made this for you, aye! Take a look...

*Minhyeok picks up the book to realize it's a collection of lewd photos of Astra professionally took by Phenomenon*

Minhyeok: !!!! Ppyong...this...this is indecent....does she know you did this? And what are....these panties?

Ppyong: Those are special panties, aye! Miss Astra had those on during her Christmas Cold, so she came alot while wearing them, aye! I save them for you as her scent was the strongest during that time.

Minhyeok: (blushes heavily while confused by the term "Christmas Cold" and the fact she "came" in them repeatedly) I, uh....

Ppyong: You'll be happy to know she called out your name during, aye! (flies around happily oblivious the fact that Minhyeok is close to passing out being overwhelmed with information)

Merry Christmas, ya'll <3 Lol Astra has her hands full apparently with everyone hitting her up and Asmo being himself as usual. Plus is sounds like Minhyeok got some pretty awesome gifts 👀💀

[tired-xyra-urstruly]

Wait, They Don't Love You Like

I Love You

Ft. Rin Itoshi

Synopsis: Rin was made to tutor you much to his demise.

Warnings: I did not proofread this.

Genre: Fluff, Crack

A/N: Christmas gift for my friend 👅 it's low-key ass but it's fine

“Shit.” was the first word that came out of your mouth after processing what was right in front of you. Not only one but TWO grades below 80. But you weren't worried about your grade, you couldn't care less about it. It was your parents that worried you. You looked down at your grade avoiding the principals and your parents' gazes. If only the ground would swallow you whole right now to drown all of their complaints and expectations from you.

Of course it should've been expected as someone who constantly would get into trouble every other day, it's a miracle you haven't been expelled yet. One of the biggest catastrophes you've caused was planting tear gas into a classroom which got you more than a week of suspension.

“Well, Mr. And Mrs. [Last Name], if it would please you, we can assign your child a private tutor from the school.” The principal interrupted your parents' whines and complaints causing them to pause for a moment. You didn't even need to look at them to know that they were more than pleased with the idea. Not wanting to listen to the planning of tutoring you slipped away out of the office unnoticed.

〔❨✧✧❩〕

You sat alone in the classroom watching the door waiting for your supposed tutor to enter. A few minutes passed by until the door finally opened to reveal the next victim of your presence, Rin Itoshi. Well, he wasn't exactly new to your antics.

“Oh my GYATT. Rinnie Rinnn!!” You lit up seeing him and in return his face instantly shifted into one of annoyance once he heard you call him by that stupid nickname. He was so tempted to walk right out of the door and abandon you.

“Don't call me by that cursed name, lukewarm.” he replied coldly sitting across from you.

“Aw but it's so cute and it suits you.”

“Shut up it isn't.”

“Bbbut–” You got cut off.

“No buts. I was called here to tutor you not to play into your games or whatever you're scheming.”

You sighed pouting at him to no avail. He brought out a pen and paper from his own bag and gave you a look expecting you to do the same. Unfortunately, you didn't bring any, so you just looked at him with pleading eyes. He sighed heavily seeing that familiar look in your eyes you would do.

“Bring your own next time.” He gave you a pen and paper.

“On skibidi won't do it again Rin Rin.”

He flinched once he heard his name being butchered into one of your stupid nicknames again.

“I was called here because you're failing math and English.” he started trying to get to the point to get it over with while you were looking everywhere else in the room except at him to avoid actually getting any work done.

“Pish posh my parents are lying they just want me to be tutored to get my grades better.” That was by far the worst excuse he's ever heard in his entire life.

“Shut it Half-baked. I'm here tutoring you when I could be making better use of my time.”

You let out a loud exaggerated sigh out and picked up the pen and looked at him so you could get this over with.

“Yappity yap yap yap yap yap yap” went the academic boy. He didn't actually say that though that's all you heard. You naturally had to look at him since he was the one teaching after all and he'd probably scold you if he saw you distracted.

Your gaze trailed over his features, his jaw, his eyes, anything you could absorb about him.

…

“Do you understand?” Rin snapped you out of your trance dragging you back to reality. Have you been staring too long? Oh shit nothing was written on your paper.

Rin stared at you then your paper obviously Livid knowing you weren't listening and he wasted precious time on a stupid ass like you. You glanced at the clock seeing it's been around thirty minutes of staring and zoning out. In response you could only give a shit eating smirk.

“On gyatt I understand.” You didn't understand a single thing. All Rin could do was pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh in disappointment. “This is why you'll never pass high school.”

The next few minutes you had left that was allotted to this tutoring period passed with you and Rin exchanging banter and him occasionally giving you insults which you would never admit but you felt your heart being stabbed when he said those insults.

Regrettably, the session had to eventually come to an end. Walking home, you sighed, unable to annoy anyone with your presence anymore. Walking home you wondered how Rin was doing… Oh my god why are you thinking of him you bastard. WHY ARE YOU SO CONSCIOUS ABOUT IT?????

〔❨✧✧❩〕

It felt like no time passed at all, you were back in the same classroom waiting for Rin to arrive. You started fidgeting with your pen staring at the door and the clock above it counting the seconds before Rin would walk through.

You jolted up when the doorknob turned over revealing your as always beautiful tutor, Rin. He glanced at you and then the materials played out on your desk a little bit relieved to see you kept your promise of bringing your own materials.

“Heyyy Rinnie Rin!!” The feeling of relief was short lived and then replaced with the feeling of irritation again.

He ignores your stupid greeting and sits down across from you which receives a frown. “Are you really going to ignore my glorious greeting I bothered to say.” You asked him which in return made him flinch once again. He didn't like your cocky replies a bit.

“I won't if you stop using those shitty names, lukewarm.”

“You're no fun at all.”

He then proceeded to start the lecture again by tutoring you, this time you actually took notes. They were low effort but hey you did take notes. Occasionally you would get distracted… but Rin was way too determined to get this over with to allow you to zone out for too long.

Again, the session had to unfortunately end. The process repeated for a while now, the only difference was you were slowly worsening. Why? Well…

“You're too pretty.” Rin was dumbfounded for a moment, you saw it for a split second. He simply asked you why you weren't improving nor making an effort to.

“Even so, it's not an excuse.”

“But it's the truth.” Yeah gng you were just nonchalant like that. “Speaking of which, are you free anytime soon?”

“No.” You once again pouted.

“But you have no games coming up.”

“I use my time to get better.”

“Can you skip one training session for me pleaseeee.”

Rin let out an irritated sigh before responding, “Just one if it will make you stop nagging me.”

Your jaw dropped to the floor. You did NOT expect him to give up this easily, especially when you made him give up one of his training sessions which is something he treated like his fucking lifeline. Honestly, Rin didn't expect this either, he couldn't think straight when he was placed in the same room as you. Maybe your stupidness was contagious.

You felt like your heart would just crawl out of your mouth with it still being open from shock. When you finally regained your composure you still couldn't muster up to say anything.

“Sooooo it's a date then!!” You voiced, filling in the awkward silence.

“Wait what.” What the fuck did he just agree to? Next thing he knew, you weren't across him anymore but latching onto him like a parasite.

“Love you Rinnie Rin.” He wouldn't say it back. You looked up at him and you could see a pale pink rise In his cheeks, it served as a good enough answer to you.

End.

Tags: @tofumiarchives @yui2aku

[sugawhaaa]

JEONGIN X READER

🕯𝄞 ⋆꙳❅🦢*❆ The Nutcracker ⋆꙳❅🦢*❆𝄞🕯

Warnings//genre:: fantasy...that's it

Pairing:: nutcracker!jeongin x clara!reader

A/N:: nothing in this fully makes sense or lines up with the plot of the original nutcracker but as I think I have said on here before this Christmas nutcrackers have really interested me so...here we are. And yes ik this is a little weird but I love it so just keep scrolling 😤

Skz masterlist:: 🥁

🎧::

As you ripped the thin red paper off of the box your heart raced with excitement but your expression quickly shifted upon seeing what hid behind the paper. A nutcracker neatly tucked into a box with a plastic window to see the figure. You feel a catch in your breath upon seeing the neatly painted nutcracker and you smile.

"What is that supposed to be?" Your older sister leans in as she sets aside her beautiful doll with a pink dress and curly blond hair.

"He's a nutcracker," you smile before gently opening the box and caressing his face.

"It's a nutcracker? How? It doesn't even have a mustache or tall boots and his hair is orange," your sister takes the nutcracker from your hands to inspect it. You shrug and take it back.

"I love him all the same," you move the little lever in the back of his head to make his jaw move. Your parents and sisters get ready for bed while you stay with your little nutcracker on the floor.

"C'mon it's time to go to bed, I know you're the oldest but you're gonna have to be up early tomorrow for Christmas morning," your mom explains and you set the nutcracker on the stand above the fireplace. You sneak a cookie from the kitchen table before going to bed. You tuck under the sheets and rest your head against the plush of your pillow and the world begins to fade into complete silence and peace.

Suddenly you hear something rattle downstairs. It startles you awake and you make your way out to the hallway, the sound now coming to a halt. You then go to the bathroom and when you finish your business you glance out at the living room. Was the Christmas tree always so large? And the couch?

You carefully tread out to the living room and as you progress you notice you are now the size of a pea. You must be dreaming, a weird dream from the cookie before bed no doubt, but as you examine the living room from a new angle you hear indistinct chatter. Suddenly a big fat rat comes into your view. He's sitting on a small wagon that other mice are carrying. You look stunned as you watch them squeak by.

The king cries on about wanting food before stumbling upon your gaze. He orders the mice to carry him in your direction.

"And who are you? Mrs. Gawking," he puts his hands on his hips and you notice the crown on his head now that he is this close.

"No, no, I am Y/N, I live here," you explain and the rat king laughs.

"Right, right, than why aren't you paying me taxes or rent?" He king huffs and you laugh but your laugh seems to be the only one echoing in the massive living room. "I have not once received food or goodies from you, so why shouldn't I get the guards to take you and throw you out!" The rat king shouts and you chuckle softly but you realize he is serious.

"W-Well because I don't have any," you explain and rat king laughs.

"Likely story," he then orders the mice to take you away but before their grimy hands can come in contact with your body a man steps in front of you.

"What seems to be the trouble here, good sir," A man in a red suit stands before you. He wears a tall hat and lots of gold accessories among his deep red outfit.

"She hasn't been paying me!" The rat king whines and the man nods. As you look at the man closer you notice orange hair peaking out through his hat. Is this...no way.

The nutcracker kindly negotiates with the rat king and he scurries away with his crew of mice slaves.

"Sorry, I could only buy you some time," the nutcracker turns to you, a candy cane staff in his hand.

"Are you..?" You look up at him and the man chuckles hinting at the hidden relation.

"You seem to be lost, very far from home," the nutcracker jokes and you nod.

"Yeah...why is this happening? Why am I here?" You plead him for some answers but he goes silent.

"Honestly...I can't tell you that," he quickly takes your hand. "But I'm warning you now Y/N, you need to leave right now," he looks into your eyes deeply, his boba eyes touching your soul. "It's nearly a war zone down here, the king has lost his mind," the nutcracker sighs with a shake of his head, the accessories on his hat fluttering with the motion.

"I can't simply leave knowing the place is in chaos," you explain, silently pleading to stay with him. He thinks for a moment before taking a deep breath.

"You can take care of it when you get back to your bigger self. Just pick up the rat king and throw him outside," the nutcracker puts a hand to your shoulder and you think about his advice. "That way no one else will get harmed and it'll be much easier on your body," he winks before taking your hand. "Come, we must get you back to bed,"

"But I'm not tired yet," you protest with a shake of your head as you pull your hand back. The nutcracker then tucks his staff away.

"Either way you need to get somewhere safe," the nutcracker grabs your hand again, softer this time with less urgency. He starts to walk you back to your room but the walk is far with such short legs. As you walk hand in hand you look over up at him, taking in his strong and bold facial features and his contrasting soft orange hair.

"So...do you have a name?" You lean forward a little to get a better view at him.

"Jeongin," he smiles and you're taken aback.b

"An interesting name for a nutcracker," you look up at him before shrugging and he chuckles. He didn't sound offended by your comment which was good.

"You think so hm?" He smiles at you with a tilt of his head.

"Do you know why this is happening?" You ask again though you know you won't receive much of an answer.

"Who can say, darling," he lets go of your hand to trot ahead of you. "Maybe so you can get a feel for how to be treated by a gentleman," he bows in front of you. "Or maybe to teach you to be grateful for what you have?" He jumps to stand next to you again and you pause before getting offended.

"I'm very grateful for what I have!" You retort back quickly.

"Then maybe it's the first option?" He raises a brow with a little smirk. "Ah and here we are, we must part at last my love," he says as he stops by your bedroom door.

"How am I supposed to get to my bed when I'm so small?" You look over at your bed which now looks more like a building due to your shrunken size. Jeongin thinks for a moment before smiling. He kisses you softly and you jump back. "What was that for?"

"To turn you back to normal," he tilts his head with a cheeky smile before everything goes dark and you hear shouting in the distance. You sit up quickly and realize you are in the comfort of your bed. You look out the window to see snow fluttering down. You hear your sisters outside your bedroom shouting about Christmas morning and Santa. You stand up and yawn, the dream you had sinking in deep and you notice a little mouse in the corner of your room wearing a tiny crown.

You look wide eyed and chase after it but it scurries behind your dresser and presumably into the wall.

Perhaps it wasn't entirely a dream?

[snoopyracing]

Hii, if its ok with you, could we please get a sneak peak of the max fic ur writting 🥺

hi!! sorry i didn’t answer this sooner! been busy with family stuff and the upcoming holiday! but here you go. it’s unedited so beware lol.

You’d been playing good racing driver and making small talk all night, talking to sponsors and random rich men who loved to hear themselves talk. You’d finally escaped the tortuous sea of networking and found yourself at a somewhat secluded table with a flute of champagne in front of you. You hadn’t been at the table for very long before you heard a familiar Dutch accent coming from behind you.

“Is this seat taken?”

You turned to see the one and only Max Verstappen standing there with his hand on the back of the seat next to you. Your eyes scanned across the white linen tablecloth to the several empty chairs surrounding the table and then back to Max. “I think they all might be spoken for, but I’m sure they can find another table to sit at.” He lets out a little chuckle as he sits down and you notice him fidgeting with his tie, clearly trying to loosen it. “It’s weird seeing you in anything other than your race suit or team kit.”

His movements halt as his eyes comb over you and it makes you squirm slightly in your seat. “Could say the same about you.”

He’s not wrong though, the dress you’ve picked out for tonight is nothing shy of stunning, but it’s not you. You always felt like these events were a form of torture more than anything and having to get all dressed up was just the cherry on top.

“I saw that you had a good season.” You state before taking a sip of your champagne.

Max’s eyebrows raise in surprise towards you, like you’ve just said the craziest thing. “I don’t think we should be talking about my season when you’ve just won a championship.”

You lean back in your seat, crossing your legs as you adjust your dress. “It’s only an F2 championship Max.” There’s still a part of you that’s slightly bitter about him leaving you behind and you wonder what this night would be like if you were an F1 driver like him.

“It still means something.” His baby blue eyes narrowed at you as he spoke.

The remaining champagne in your glass is gone in seconds, this isn’t where you wanted this conversation to end up, but somehow you knew it was inevitable. “It doesn’t mean much if it can’t even grant me that seat I want. I won that championship basically halfway through the season, but can’t get anyone to offer me anything higher than a reserve driver. How does that mean anything?”

Max shifts in his seat, he knows this is a sensitive subject to you and he knows what he’s about ready to tell you will probably get him slapped, but he has to at least try.

“It could mean something and I came over here to talk to you about it.” Your eyebrows furrow at his words, confused as to what he could possibly mean. “I want you as my teammate.”

You can’t help but laugh slightly at him, the dutchman had clearly had one too many glasses of champagne tonight. “Did you think to express that to Red Bull before I had that world shortest meeting with them months ago? We all have dreams Max and yours is nice, but it’s a pipe dream.”

He shakes his head and scoots his chair closer to you. “It’s not a dream. It can happen. The team wanted to see how the rest of your season played out, but they for sure want you now.”

“Where is Daniel going then?” A waiter comes past and you snatch another flute of champagne off of their tray. “And why is this not being discussed in a formal meeting setting?”

“The team thought you might be more willing if you heard about this from someone you knew pretty well first. You know I’ve always been in your corner.” Max knows this is where the conversation will either go south or you’ll hear him out and he fears the latter isn’t the most likely scenario. “ And Daniel isn’t going anywhere”

It takes you a moment to understand what Max’s words mean, your glass of champagne hovers near your lips as you slowly realize what he’s insinuating. And this time you actually do laugh at him because how could he think that after your disgruntled conversation just moments ago that you would want the one thing you were dissatisfied with?

“Max, you've got to be kidding me.” You feel like this is one big prank and your tone is more defeated than upset at this point