#and the second one he asks her to come and reaches out his hand for her to grab

[ceilidho]

fear of god

There's someone outside the spacecraft. You don't remember them being part of the crew. Part 6 masterlist

-

The interior door slides open when Gaz pulls down the lever on his side, fitting into the recesses in the wall until there’s nothing between you. He’s the same and yet entirely different with nothing separating the two of you; more corporeal, undeniably flesh and blood. You can feel it now—the heat of another body in close proximity.

His stare penetrates you to the root, eyes so dark that you can’t look away. It’d be easy to get lost in them, like falling into a black hole, body stretching out into infinity, even the smallest subatomic parts of you torn apart. Expressive eyes, the kind you might look at and think that there’s someone behind them worth knowing. But the sharp angularity of the intelligence there makes your skin crawl. 

Farah finds her voice before you do. “Who are you?”

Gaz breaks his stare to glance at her, his frozen smile suddenly warming. “We haven’t met; I’m Gaz.”

When he holds out his gloved hand, Farah only looks at it instead of taking it, disbelief warring with her common sense. You wish you could hear the thoughts running through her head. 

“You can see him too?” you whisper to her.

Her head snaps in your direction, dark brows already furrowed. “Of course I can. What are you talking about?”

It’s perhaps impossible to explain without making yourself sound insane. More insane, in any case. But with the proof in front of you now, you can’t deny any longer that Gaz is real; that after days spent worrying about the state of your crumbling mental health, the very cause of your concern now stands before you, witnessed by someone else. You’d laugh if you didn’t feel faint. 

Because he is real—all six feet and two inches of him. Close enough to reach out your hand and touch. His skin looks buttery soft; if you were a foot closer, you’d almost be tempted to take his hand if only to see if your fingers would pass through.

Without warning, the intercom suddenly crackles to life again and a familiar voice blares from the speaker. “Panel secure. Headed back now.”

The sound of Nikolai’s voice sends a jolt of electricity up your spine. Even Gaz glances over his shoulder at the door and the vastness of space behind it. There’s nothing there, but his thickly accented voice asks for confirmation and you know it must be him, not a trick of the comms system. You stumble back until you hit the wall behind you.

“Kolya?” you hear Graves respond sharply, his voice still carrying through the ship over the intercom. “Shit, is that you? Do you hear me?”

“Черт побери. Yes, I hear you, mother hen,” Nikolai laughs in response. His laughter is a crisp, hollow sound over the intercom, like crackling blue electricity. “On my way back now. No need to pluck all your feathers out.”

His nonchalance is, frankly, unreasonable for the amount of time elapsed since he last checked in with the crew. 

A whole body comes into view this time, an astronaut waving to you through the window of the exterior door. Even from the other side, you can tell it’s Nikolai, the sheer size of him apparent. 

“Alhamdulillah,” Farah breathes, pulling the lever down for a second time to initiate the return sequence. 

Like deja vu, you watch as the first set of doors open and Nikolai slowly makes his way into the airlock one slow step at a time, the man looking no worse for wear. Beside you, Farah whispers something that you miss. The doors slide shut noiselessly behind him, and again you watch as a man in a spacesuit undergoes repressurization, the tensing of his shoulders making his discomfort with the process apparent. 

He already has his helmet off before the second door even opens. “Like I said, easy peasy. Can someone get me a coffee now?”

It’s almost too much for you to digest in such a short period of time, your emotions slingshotting between losing Nikolai and finding a strange man floating in the middle of space and then hearing the Russian man’s voice again like nothing happened. Lost time, or gained time. 

He must pick up on the way you and Farah simply gape at him in stunned silence.

“Something the matter?” Nikolai asks, a thick caterpillar eyebrow arched. A second later, he registers the other man in the hallway and grins. “Ah, you met Gaz. Nice guy, huh?”

“You know him?” Farah asks, her incredulity apparent.

“We met outside. I sent him in to get warm.”

You’re properly dumbfounded now, staring at Nikolai with abject disbelief for giving someone permission to board the ship without the commander’s permission. 

The footsteps of your commander and his second echo as they race down the hallway from the cockpit, the metal clunking under their boots. Louder and louder until they reach you, coming to a halt just a few feet away.

“Didn’t think I was gone that long,” Nikolai murmurs, stripping out of his spacesuit at the same time. Without a word, Farah helps him tuck it back into the storage locker he originally took it from. 

The two men stalk forward the remaining distance and when you look over at Graves, you can see the worry and relief writ large across his face, his attempts at concealing his emotions only partially successful. 

“What the fuck happened?” Graves barks, his expression stern until his eyes land on Gaz standing peacefully in the middle of the corridor, and then something shifts. A brief uncertainty clouding the pale blue of his eyes. “Who’s this?” 

Gaz lifts a gloved hand in greeting. “Name’s Gaz.”

“Found him outside wandering around,” Nikolai booms, slinging an arm over Gaz’s shoulders in an obvious show of fondness. “Poor bastard couldn’t find his crew.”

“Just wandering around in the middle of nowhere?” Graves asks, cocking a brow, skepticism thick in his words. 

Gaz smiles sheepishly. “It’s my fault. I got a bit turned around.”

Graves hums, mulling over the information. “…Turned around, huh?”

“Yes, sir. Looked away for a second and then my group was gone.”

“That doesn’t sound pleasant at all.”

“No, sir. Not at all.”

His deference is second to none. You could almost imagine yourself believing him, swept away by concern for his welfare. 

There’s a difference though. You’ve had the benefit of several days of acclimation. 

“Sir—commander,” you interject, swallowing when Graves turns his attention on you, the microexpression that flits across his face betraying his displeasure at being interrupted. “I’m sorry, but this makes no sense. I don’t see how…well, how he could have survived out on his own. I mean—” Your eyes flick towards Gaz. “I’m sorry, but none of this makes any sense to me.”

Graves’ lip curls up. "What doesn't make any sense?"

"Well, should we have brought him in? This just doesn't seem like protocol—"

“I don’t get your point, doctor. Should we have just left him out there to die? I thought you had that whole Hippocratic oath to uphold.”

None of this makes any sense to you. Apart from Farah, they’re being entirely too cavalier for happening upon a man in the middle of nowhere. There should be talk of heading back to Earth or quarantining him in the brig. 

“It’s not about that,” you croak. 

“I don’t understand you, doctor. You of all people should want to help.”

But he’s the man I’ve been seeing for days, you almost scream, but the blatant disapproval in Graves’ eyes makes you hold your tongue. You know your instincts aren’t wrong. Basic science isn’t wrong. Even if his spacesuit were able to provide basic environmental protection and life support, the longest a human might be able to survive after becoming untethered from their ship would be just under nine hours. 

You don’t know why this isn’t registering as strange to any of them. They act as though there’s nothing at all unusual about a man floating in space without any spacecraft within fifty million miles of him. As if this were just something that happened from time to time, and not an unprecedented anomaly. 

“Well, you could probably do with some shut eye after your trip, I reckon,” Graves says, clamping a hand down on Gaz’s shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. “We have a spare bunk near mine—bit cramped, but I’m sure you’ll make do.”

Gaz tips his head in thanks. “I’d appreciate it.”

“And—sorry, forgot to ask, but are you good? Not feeling faint or sick or anything? I know our doctor’s a little prickly, but whatever you need, she can help with.”

The weight of Gaz’s gaze makes your body feel leaden. 

“All good for now,” he says, still smiling serenely. His stare never wavers, smile never dips. “But don’t worry, love. I’ll come find you when I need you.”

Nikolai’s arm drops from his shoulder and Graves leads him off down the corridor to recuperate in his new room. The scream is buried in your throat; if you try to cough it up, only blood and mucus will come out. 

You can only watch helplessly as they walk away, Farah gone by the time you remember to look for her. 

After that, hours pass by without any sight of the man who recently boarded your ship. You don’t see much of anyone in fact. Hadir eats lunch around the same time as you, but his conversation is oddly circulatory, muddled, like he can’t keep his thoughts straight. He mentions the same thing twice and doesn’t seem concerned when you politely remind him that he already told you. He also doesn’t seem to register your words when you tentatively broach the subject of Gaz’s sudden appearance. 

Hadir shrugs, seemingly unconcerned. “Better for us anyway. Could be nice to have another warm body around here.”

“Don’t you…don’t you remember what I told you the other day?” you prod, pushing your potatoes around with your fork, your stomach in knots. “When I told you I saw someone outside?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s who I was talking about,” you whisper, as if concerned about being overheard. “I saw Gaz out there. He must have been out there…for days at least.”

“Ah,” he says, mildly contemplative. “Funny, that.”

The conversation feels like a dead end because it is, and you abandon it not long after when you realize that though Hadir is responding to your words, he doesn’t seem to be understanding them. It’s like you’re talking to an automaton, something designed to give you a response but not engage like a human would.

Even that thought seems wrong somehow. You shouldn’t be thinking those kinds of things about your coworkers. 

Back in the medical unit, you pick up the stool that fell to the ground on your way out earlier and take a seat, sipping periodically at the ice cold coffee still sitting on the table. Your mind goes blank for some time. Different than earlier though—not the blankness of concern and paranoia, but the blankness of complete stupefaction. 

It gives you some time to think, but no matter how many times you run through the events of the day in your mind, you keep coming back to the same questions. The same questions with no answers. 

Appetite a no show, you figure it’s better to just retire to your quarters for the evening. 

In bed, you read the same paragraph of your book three times before it sinks in. You can’t concentrate on anything. The same phrase on a loop, your real thoughts swarming like locusts and drowning out the narrator in your head. 

A knock at your door startles you, accidentally making you crinkle a page of your book with your thumb. You bite back a curse, smoothing the page out and calling out a frustrated one second when the person on the other side of your door knocks again. Impatient much. 

You open the door, expecting to find Graves or Nikolai on the other side, only for you to balk when you’re met with the sight of Gaz towering over you, his forearm braced against the doorframe. 

“Hi,” he says after a beat of silence. 

“…Are you lost?” you ask suspiciously. 

“No. Thought I’d stop by before I turn in for the night.”

Something occurs to you the longer you stand so close to him. It’s been lingering in the back of your mind since the interior doors to the airlock slid open and he boarded the ship, a thought hidden under its own afterbirth, placenta and membranous fluid soaking the ground beneath it. A thought that, to this point, has escaped your notice, hiding away like a prey animal. 

And it’s that: Gaz doesn’t have a smell. When you inhale, he doesn’t smell like anything you’ve ever smelt before. No lingering traces of body odour or sweat or soap. You breathe in and it’s like you’re standing in front of an empty doorway staring out into the empty hallway. 

But he does have a scent. 

It doesn’t register to your nose, not a scent that your olfactory senses can detect. Nothing like that. Instead it hits you like a memory, like a feeling blooming in your chest. Palo santo and orange blossom; the sound of a tennis ball hitting a racket; an aerial view of an Olympic pool and someone swimming laps, their body stark against the blue; white florals and a masculine voice laughing. 

His scent is a delicious rush of wonder and elation, a dopamine spike. You crane your neck to meet his eyes and honestly you’d forgotten how beautiful he is. An Adonis; over six foot and body corded with muscle. Lean waist and wide shoulders. The most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, sculpted from something divine, a substance not found on Earth but in a more heavenly realm. 

You rock forward on your heels, pulled like a magnet towards his lips. His lips gently part, anticipating yours before they’ve even met.

Your hand hits the wall and reality comes back to you. Solid metal under your feet and an aluminum composite under your hand. White, sterile walls. In the hallway, the lights dim as the night cycle commences. You have to physically shake your head to rid your mind of any thoughts of Earth. It’s still there though, on the periphery of your senses; a dream world that you might get lost in if you were to look for too long.  

Something is very wrong. 

You rest back on your heels and move your hand until it hovers over the button to close your door. 

“Unless you’re sick, I can’t help you.”

“I’m not sick, love.”

“Then what do you want?” you bite out, overtly hostile now. 

He smiles but he doesn’t blink. Then his eyes flick up, studying the room behind you, his gaze roving over the walls and furniture, scrutinizing your space. Examining the clothes strewn over your bed, the little knick knacks and oddities that make your room yours. 

“Just wanted to see what it looked like from the inside,” Gaz finally says, and your blood goes cold. 

With that, he pulls his forearm off the doorframe and straightens to full height. 

He makes it a few feet away from your door before turning around to look back at you. “Night, love. See you in the morning.”

[mel-rose-writes]

"Are you really willing to kill everyone in that building? Every innocent man, woman, and child who were just in the wrong place at the wrong time? Just to guarantee his death?" Damien asked in disbelief.

"Yes," Nova responded coldly. "Nicholias took everything from me. My home, my family, my status. Everything. It's only fair I take everything from him."

Lucas interjected. "Nova, I don't think that's such a good-"

"You wanna join them?" she asked Lucas. Nova's eyes had turned draconic in nature; her scleras pure black, and her pupils forming purple slits.

Lucas quickly shook his head. "No."

Damien sighed. "Nova, the kid's right. As much as I hate to say it, I agree with him. There are children in there. Innocents. You'd really be willing to kill them, just for revenge?"

Nova's breath was hot with fury. smoke coming out of her nostrils. "I've been waiting seven fucking years for this. My chance at revenge. You're not going to stop me now."

Damien glanced over at his crew. A terrified looking Lucas hid behind Adam, who was standing with his arms crossed. Everett, meanwhile, reached into his bag, ready to subdue the infuriated dragon at his Captain’s word.

Damien sighed. "Nova. If you do this, you'll be just as bad as-" His sentence was cut off as Nova lunged at his throat, claws and fangs bared, her dragon form fully visible.

"Don't. Finish. That. Fucking. Sentence,"she growled. Her eyes were pure black now, scales fluttering on her cheekbones.

Damien grabbed at the his throat, attempting (and failing) to pull the now 7 foot tall dragon away from him. He glanced over at Everett, who had pulled out a weighted net gun. The trigger was pointed at Nova, seconds away from being fired.

Damien sighed, glancing back at Nova. "I'm sorry my love, but I didn't want to do this." Damien then whistled sharply, signaling for Everett to fire the gun.

The net swung wildly towards the dragon, wrapping it's metal weights around her form. Her wings folded into herself, and her limbs were restricted to her body. She let out a blood curdling screech, fire breath flaming outwards at her crewmates.

"LET ME GO RIGHT NOW YOU TRAITORS!!!" she screeched. Her voice seemed distorted with rage, like there were two competing voices shouting the same line.

Damien quickly stood up and reached into Everett's bag, pulling out a large rag and a bottle of chloroform. "Pirates we may be, we still have morals. And those morals include sparing innocents. I'm sorry, but this had to be done."

Damien then swooped behind his lover, pulling the rag taught against her flaming mouth. Nova writhed about, trying to escape the embrace. But it was no use: soon, her fire breath died out, and her eyes closed shut.

Once he was sure Nova was unconscious, Damien stood up and handed the items back to Everett.

"So... what do we do now?" Adam, who had been rather quiet the whole time, asked. "I mean, Nicholias does deserve some form of punishment, doesn't he?"

Damien nodded. "Of course he does. But we leave the rest of the town out of it. Lucas, Adam, I want you two to go down there and lure Nicholias out of that building and away from the people. Everett, you come with me."

As the group split up, Damien stopped to take one last look at Nova's sleeping figure. Her dragon features had disappeared, leaving only her human form trapped under the net. For a moment, Damien was reminded of that scared teenager that he had picked up all those years ago.

"Don't worry. We'll make him pay for his crimes."

"Are you willing to kill every person in that building; every innocent man, woman, and child who were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, just to guarantee his death?" "Yes."

[chrissv4mp]

𐙚 WHY CAN'T I FIND NO ONE LIKE YOU?

IN MY HEAD, WE BELONG , STREETS. DOJA CAT

WARNINGS. SMUT, cheating, fuckgirl!billie, innocent!reader, cunnilingus, bathroom sex, boyfriend!oc, fingering, hickeys, praise, language, slight manipulative!billie, and drinking.

SUMMARY. you broke up with billie a few months back, yet you can't seem to get her out of your head. it doesn't help your situation when she shows up at a party you and your boyfriend were hosting.

WORDS. 4.5k

LETTERS. AAAAA MERRY CHRISTMAS(IF YOU CELEBRATE)!!! HERE'S FUCKGIRL!BILLIE AS A LITTLE PRESENTTT

"it's just one drink, babe," your boyfriend urges with a playful nudge to your shoulder, his own alcoholic beverage in his right hand.

his left hand is occupied around your waist, fingertips running along the smooth skin that you crop-top revealed, "live a little! don't be a scaredy cat." vincent yells over the music, a grin coming across his face.

you shake your head with a smile, his words flipping a switch in the competitive side of your mind, "i'm not a 'scaredy cat,'" you scoff, and without a second thought, you reach for the large bottle of vodka pushed far back on the counter.

"think i won't?" you challenge him, your nerves coming back to bite as you watch him shake his head.

"pass me one of those cups," you say, quickly grabbing it from your boyfriends hand as he gives it to you. your eyes dart along the counter, catching sight of a half-full cup of (what seems to be) sprite. keeping that in mind, you fill the empty cup with the vodka in your hand before setting it back down.

with a deep breath, and one final look at vincent, you shout, "vince, watch ou—!"

his entire body turns in an attempt to shield both you and himself, and when he does, you swiftly switch the places of the two cups, gripping the cup of sprite in your hand and bringing it to your lips. you flick his shoulder, catching his attention once again, "yeah, let's go, y/n!" he calls, hyping you up with words of encouragement.

you finish the cup with one last gulp before setting it down onto the marble counter again, fighting the urge not to throw up due to the carbonation. you get hit with an attack of coughs, and vincent is quick to laugh it off while rubbing at your back.

"holy shit. i didn't think your ass would actually do it." he chuckles, tone full of amusement and almost no concern.

"whatever," you roll your eyes, straightening yourself and watching as your boyfriend pours himself another cup. his, what, third one? but, of course, in his defense, 'it wasn't vodka, so what harm could it do?' a lot, to his surprise. you, however, wouldn't even bat an eye if you found him passed out on the edge of the pool or in the bathroom over the toilet.

with no words and a kiss to your cheek, he snuck off into the sea of drunk teenagers and sweaty bodies, leaving you alone with the many horny couples that all decided to make out in the kitchen of all places. so, instead of staying, you fill up your empty cup with water and begin to carefully manuever yourself around the crowd, apologizing left and right each time you even grazed someone with your arms or body.

you only make it to the hallway of your boyfriends bedroom whenever you notice that all of the rooms are occupied because of either a. the moans, or b. the doors are locked.

you let a sigh out, leaning back against the wall and closing your eyes to maybe escape reality for even just a second if that was possible. and you were successful until one of vincents friends showed up to bother you.

"'ay, you're vinny's girl, right?" he asks, voice deep yet somehow heard over the obnoxiously loud music.

you nod hesitantly, unsure of why that would be the first question he asked because vincent's friends had to have known your name by now, "right, right, well—okay, are you down to light one up with me and the guys?" he inquires, his lips curving into a dopey smile to showcase his perfectly white teeth.

you never understood why boys like this threw away their futures on stupid things like drugs and alcohol.

"i don't smoke," you answer, shrugging with a soft, apologetic smile(although you weren't sorry at all).

"hey, can you tell vince i'm gonna be heading out soon and that i'll be somewhere around the front, please?" but, even with your clear dismissal, he doesn't budge, rolling his eyes with an amused scoff.

"come on, girl, you can either come and tell 'em or you'll leave without a goodbye kiss."

he pushes his lips out in a kissing motion, imitating a kiss as he moans suggestively. the action makes you cringe, your fingers gripping tighter around the red solo cup in your hand, "lets go, yeah, baby?" the nickname only pushes you further, your comfort getting more and more destroyed by the second, "no, i think i'll stay here..."

his facial expression switches to one of pure anger and annoyance at your resistance, groaning before finally reaching out to tug on your wrist, "vinny never told me you were so god damn stubborn," he grumbles, his strength overpowering your own attempt to stay put.

"hey, i said no!" you yell, but your call is a mere whisper in the crowd of loud shouts and booming music.

the tall guy drags you to the back patio before you make an effort to defend yourself, splashing the leftover water you had in your cup in his face the moment he turns back to see if you were still there. his grip loosens for a moment from the shock, but when you try to wiggle free, he's quick to tug you forward and make you stumble back, "i—you fucking bitch!" he roars.

his loud yell catches all eyes in the backyard, and some partygoers standing by the backdoor even stop and stare. there's still the slightest look of bewilderment on his face, but it's soon masked with anger as he feels the droplets of water slide down his face and neck. he swipes his eyes with his hands, clearing his vision so that he can see you again.

"who the fuck do you think you are, huh?" he asks, voice deeper than before to show his anger.

he steps closer to you, his tall figure towering over your own as he practically barks curses into your face. what you don't expect, however, are his next words, "you're lucky you're a woman 'cause i would'a beat your fuckin' a—!"

"so what? just because she's a woman doesn't mean she couldn't rock your shit."

as fast as the attention was on you and the boy, it's passed to some random girl twice as fast. some 'random' girl you know all too well, "this doesn't concern you, billie," the furious boy scoffs with a shake of his head, trying to shrug her off. but billie won't shake, of course she won't.

"nah, i think it does." she pushes, stepping closer.

she didn't look nearly as intimidating as he did due to her height, but you knew exactly how much of an effect billie's gaze had on people, "don't think i didn't see that shit, that stunt you pulled? i see everything, so don't fuck around." billie warns, tone strong and never shaking, "leave the girl alone, dude. she doesn't wanna buy whatever fuckass thing you're selling."

"can you shut the—?" he begins to speak, but billie is quick to butt in again, "hey, wait... didn't you get called out on your shit last year for selling fakes?" she makes an uneasy face, whistling quietly before catching the look on his face. billie just laughs in the poor boys face because now, he just looked pathetic.

he grabs billie by the collar of her shirt, her chains getting caught between his fingers and bringing their bodies closer. you just stand there and watch, confused and still angry as the boy whispers something into billie's ear that is either a bunch of curses or an apology. with one final glance back at you, he stomps off further into the backyard, shaking his head.

now that all the attention is gone and the chatter starts up again, billie finally gets the chance to properly greet you with her signature smile, the silver gems on her teeth on full display for you and any other person who dared to pay close enough attention. when she takes a step closer, you grip your cup again.

"woah, okay, don't splash me now." billie chuckles, putting her hands up in surrender as she takes a few more cautious steps closer.

despite your nerves, you still join in on the playfulness, "you're lucky there's none left in here." billie smiles wider at your words, taking it as a sign that she can come closer. you don't even realize that she's pulling you into a hug until her perfume reaches your nose. the perfume you were just about to forget about until billie came in like a knight in shining armor.

unlike you, billie had yet to even forget your body language—a language she was far too familiar with. she breathed in, getting the faintest smell of your shampoo and the sweet, floral perfume you always wore. it only changed when billie came out with her own perfume and you wouldn't wear anything but it. then, multiple accidents happened, and...

here you were. two exes reconnecting at a party you really thought you wouldn't see her at.

"you're not supposed to be here," you mutter, hesitantly pulling away from her embrace. your eyes seem more sad than angry now, and you're sure that billie's the only one who would ever notice. not even vincent knew when you were angry. he was just so careless at times, but he treated you well, "why are you here?"

billie's smile becomes smaller, but it never goes away, "not even a 'thank you' for saving you from that douchebag?" she laughs, cocking an eyebrow and letting her hands rest at her hips. her eyes pick up on the way your lips twitch up, but you never give her the satisfaction of your smile—the smile that she longed to see after all these years.

"i know." she sighs, eyes never leaving yours. you hated how good she was at maintaining eye contact, "just wanted to reconnect with you, ma."

your gaze flickers down to the chains that hung around her neck, noticing the way she toys with them to calm her nerves. you completely drown out her words along with the inaudible chatter around you as you notice the old fairy tattoo on her hand, complimented by the silver rings on her fingers, "you listenin'?" her hand drops back to her hip, and her voice catches you attention again.

a nod of your head is all she needs to know that you, in fact, were not listening. she repeats herself nonetheless, staying silent about the fact, "i saw that you got with vincent a while back," she mutters, biting her lip as if she can't stand even thinking about it, "hope you know what you're in for, y/n." she shrugs the sentence off purposely, trailing off onto some other topic that was completely irrelevant.

"billie, what?—what do you mean?" you ask, voice quiet and a little weary. you had no idea what she was on about.

she pauses, trying to fight the smirk that threatens to take over her face once again. the worried look across your features is all she needs to know that you've walked right into her trap. she had a love-hate relationship with the gullible side of you, "just that... vincent is kind of known for bein', uh—untrustworthy?" she whispers, eyes locked on yours.

your heart rate picks up, the cup in your hand almost completely crushed, "what?" you mutter, voice barely audible.

"he cheats." she states boldly. she almost feels bad for doing this to you, but... she needed her girl back, "no wonder he's not with you right now," billie accuses, "probably off with some chick in—" you're quick to cut her off with a shake of your head and quickly spat words, "billie, stop!" you whine.

and she does, but it doesn't last long, "i know the truth hurts, y/n." her voice is filled with fake sympathy, but you don't know that. you're too focused on the implications that she made just seconds earlier, "i'm sorry." she frowns, tilting her head and opening her arms for you to fall into. but you don't. you stand your ground, tears threatening to build because her words actually sounded believable.

"i'm here, y'know." she speaks, voice soft as she beckons you into her arms. when you glance into her beautiful blue eyes, you break immediately, dropping the cup from your hands and falling into her arms. her warmth envelopes you, and suddenly, it feels like you're right back to square one with the girl—like you're falling right back in love all over again, "it's okay,"

her words are sweet, but her face is the exact opposite. if you saw the twisted smile on her face, you would've known that this was all a trap, but your thoughts were all over the place, and you really needed her right now.

she nuzzles her face into your hair, breathing you in, "you can do better than him, any way." she knows exactly what she's doing, but she won't admit it, "and, y'know... i'm available." billie shrugs, tone still soft, "if you need a friend, of course."

you pull away, but not fully, keeping your arms around her waist so that she wouldn't leave. your faces are inches away, and you can feel the way her breath fans over your lips, plump and pink just how you remembered. her eyes flick down to your own pretty lips, finding it quite hard to keep herself under control at the close proximity you had her at.

this was wrong. you didn't even know if vincent was cheating, and you were still in the arms of your ex-girlfriend. but, then, why did it feel like it was meant to be? like you shouldn't have broken up with her all those years ago?

then again, she was also guilty of cheating on you with not one, not two, not three, and not even four—but five girls. all of which she'd been sneaking between every other day. but that hadn't crossed your mind even once tonight because... she could've changed. no—she did change.

you hoped.

you hoped she changed because you just kissed her. you really hoped she changed because now you were exchanging saliva in the middle of the backyard. you really, really hoped she changed because now she was guiding you through the rowdy crowd of teens and dragging you upstairs.

you really, really, really fucking hoped she changed because she was pushing you in the bathroom of your boyfriends house and locking the door behind her. you couldn't believe you got this far with her. with billie. your ex-girlfriend.

she's quick with her mouth and hands, multitasking as her ringed fingers slip under your skirt and massage your thighs, all while her tongue leaves a trail of fire from your lips to your neck. her plump lips suction onto your neck, and you squirm. just as sensitive as she remembered. your own hands are busy tugging at her beanie that you're growing to hate due to it restricting you access to her soft hair.

you yank it off her head out of frustration, throwing it aside on the bathroom counter that was filled with your makeup products and some of your boyfriends hair gel and whatever the hell else he used. billie's quick to rid the counter of all of it in less than a minute, though, grabbing your waist and hoisting you up onto the cool marble.

the way she looks up at you through her lashes, blue eyes so soft yet so dangerous. this was dangerous. it was so dangerous that you were falling right back into her, lips pressing hungrily against her own. her tongue easily slipped between your lips, groaning eagerly as your muscles clashed, fighting for dominance. billie won easily, her triumphant laugh muffled against your mouth.

"billie," you whisper, words slurred due to the exchange of saliva with your ex, "bill—" she just huffs with a shake of her head, head lowering back down to the crook of your neck, continuing her slow torture on your skin. her teeth sunk into your skin, smile growing wider at the way you whined. so needy for her.

her tongue soothed the bite before moving on to the next spot, creating an array of hickeys along your neck that definitely wouldn't be able to be covered with any amount of makeup.

your hands were still in her hair, tugging painfully hard. billie didn't care. she just wanted to make you feel good again—make you hers again. her eyes flickered all across your neck as she pulled away, smiling proudly at her work before her eyes moved back to you. her own hands snaked further up your thighs, ringed fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties, all while keeping eye contact.

maybe you didn't hate it as much as you thought.

"really?" billie gasps, an amused look plastered on her stupid, sexy face. hanging from her index and middle fingers were the lacy black panties she bought you the day before yoi broke her heart, "still wearin' them even while you're with that little boyfriend of yours, huh?" she muses, stuffing them in her back pocket for everyone to see once you and her left the confined space.

your face flushes pink, biting your lip and tugging her closer by her hair, "just touch me already..." you whine, not being able to look her in the eyes anymore. not that you were doing very well at that in the first place, "please." you add. you knew how much she hated whenever you had no manners, "bills, please."

she chuckles at your needy tone, hands coming back down to part your thighs, granting her access to your dripping core. you held your skirt up upon hearing her mumbled request, your other hand still tangled tightly in her dark brown strands. her fingers ran through your wet folds, biting her lip at how soaked you were.

she cursed under her breath, inhaling deeply to ground herself before she quickly discarded her rings and let them drop onto the counter with quiet thuds. her fingers were back on your cunt in seconds, parting your lips and teasing you just because she wanted to. your little gasps and whimpers were anything but quiet, and they were music to her ears.

her index and middle fingers slowly pushed into your hole, exhaling shakily at the wet sound that echoed in the rather large bathroom. your walls were so tight around her digits, but they fit so perfectly inside. almost like you were meant to be together.

in her head, you two belonged together.

"wasn't ever able to find someone as perfect as you," she mutters, eyes glued to the way your pussy swallowed her fingers so willingly, so easily without any resistance.

she shakes her head at all the memories, some of which were so scattered she couldn't even remember the girls' names. but that's not what she was focused on right now. she was only focused on you. only you could satiate her needs, her hunger, "found it hard to find someone like you," she whispers, leaning closer to kiss your cheek.

"'cause nobody could ever compare." billie breathes, listening carefully to your strained moans and soft whines of her name, "nobody." she makes her point clear with a curl of her fingers, the pads of them rubbing against the special spot inside of you that she had no trouble finding.

your own fingers curl around the fabric of your skirt and the dark strands of her hair. the way she was speaking made you feel like you were the only girl in the world, and the way she was touching you... it made you crazy, absolutely feral for more and more of her.

babbles of her name fall from between your lips repeatedly, the plump skin swollen from how hard you were biting down. she was gonna kill you if she kept this up.

a knock on the door did nothing to stop billie's movements or her mouth from working you up. nothing would ever hold her back from making you feel good. not even if it meant somebody finding out what you two were doing because, frankly, she didn't care.

all she cared about right now was getting you off and getting you back.

"doin' so good for me. such a perfect, obedient girl." billie praises, her hand coming up to cup your cheek, making you look into her deep blue eyes. the smile paired with it only further pushed you toward that edge, "y'missed me?" she teases, biting her lip as she pumps her fingers in and out of your pussy at a quicker pace.

you nod mindlessly, head blank of all things except for billie. when her lips met yours again, you melted into her touch, crying quietly against her mouth from the pleasure. you loved it when she was like this—so soft and so nice to you, so caring of your needs even though you two were broken up.

"tongue—'m'want your tongue," you murmur between moans, panting harshly from how close you were getting. you held it back, although it seemed impossible, because you wanted—you needed to cum on her tongue.

fuck your boyfriend, he wasn't even a thought in your mind anymore, and billie was quick to notice as soon as you began—or attempted—to push her head down.

billie raised an eyebrow in amusement, her lower lip tucked between her teeth as she gave you a bashful smile. she didn't know why she was getting all nervous so suddenly, but it definitely had some connection to the way you pleaded with your eyes—the eyes that she was always getting lost in.

so, without having to hear another word, she dropped to her knees on the hard tiled floors of the bathroom. her jeans did nothing to break her fall, but she wasn't worried about the bruises that would form on her knees the next morning or the scuffs that the tiles would leave on her pants. she was only worried about not having enough time with you, worried that you might come to your senses and leave her again.

not that she wouldn't be able to get you back, but the thought was still scary.

her fingers caressed your walls so gently, moving at a pace that wasn't too slow or too fast, a pace that was perfect for the both of you. when her lips wrapped around you clit, though, it felt too little and also too much all at the same time. billie was making you lose it completely.

you let your skirt fall atop of her head, too fucked-out of your mind to hold it anymore. now both of your hands were pulling her closer by her hair, nails scratching her scalp both soothingly and painfully, but she loved it. gosh, she couldn't think of anything that felt better.

"fuck 'em." billie murmured, the words not getting to your ears but the vibrations going straight to your throbbing cunt. she shook her head back and forth lightly, her tongue moving along with it, flicking over your clit perfectly. your thighs were shaking, threatening to close because you were almost off that edge.

the wet, squelching sounds of her fingers slamming into your pussy echoed in the large bathroom, filling both yours and billies ears. it only added to the sounds of your moans, and it was driving billie insane—she wasn't sure she'd be able to stop herself even after you came, "bab—billie, billie, billie!"

"'m'cumming—gonna cum all over your face, bills!" you warn, voice shaky and high-pitched.

she barely heard what you said, but by your tone, she was told all she needed to hear. the speed of her fingers picked up, and she sucked on your clit even harsher than before, eyes fluttering shut and just listening to you.

she would listen to your moans every day if she could.

her hands squeezed your thighs comfortingly, urging you to cum. she needed it, maybe even more than you. when your breaths came out in short gasps and your body shook furiously momentarily, she smiled proudly.

as you came down from your high, she continued to lap at your pussy, fingers slowing to help ride it out for a few seconds. a whine sounded from her throat whenever your hands began to push her away, but she pulled back with a disappointed groan. your eyes widened in adoration when you finally got a look at her face.

your slick was dripping down her chin, her lips swollen eyes pouty from having to stop so soon. nonetheless, she gave you a dopey smile, her blue eyes so pretty and blue you were scared that you'd drown in them. not that you'd mind, anyway.

her fingers slid out you slowly, her eyes trained on yours to see every little reaction you made. billie's smile only grew when she showed off her fingers, slick with your sticky cum. when she spread her fingers, it made a web between them. a quiet curse fell from her pretty lips as she brought them closer to her lips, her free hand squeezing your thigh again.

now it was your turn to be utterly mesmerized. billie's lips parted as she pushed her own fingers inside her mouth, sucking on them in such a lewd manner. you pulled at your skirt, wrinkled from how hard you were gripping it earlier—something your boyfriend was definitely gonna comment on later—but it didn't matter. you couldn't continue to lead him on after getting fucked and falling back in love with your ex.

billie's plan worked, and you knew nothing about it.

"just as sweet as i remember." she states, drying her hands on one of the many towels your boyfriend had hanging behind the door. you almost felt bad, but when billie turned back to you with the sweetest smile on her face, you forgot all about it.

before doing anything else, she grabbed her beanie from the floor, putting it on her head and not even bothering to fix it before turning to you again.

she took your hand in hers, helping you hop off the counter and onto your feet again. when you stumbled, billie caught you instantly, hands gripping your waist tightly and pulling you closer to her, "woah, okay, maybe you're not in the best condition for walking." she jokes with a laugh, eyes scanning over your half-annoyed-half-happy face.

"good thing i'm here, right?" in one swift movement, she's carrying you bridal style, a smug smirk playing on her face.

you roll your eyes at her teasing words, but as she begins to move, your face drops. your hands are gripping at her neck in an instant, scared that she might drop you or something. but, her grip is tight, and she's holding you with more care than your boyfriend could even express, "relax, ma."

the nickname makes your heart flutter, eyes snapping to billie's only to find yourself falling even deeper in love—if that was even possible.

yeah. now you were sure you'd never find anyone like her.

TAGS. @mseilishmwah @sophloveswomen @mxqdii @livvydunneness @vyntagess @afteraftercare @wiidfi0wer33 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @scarlittt @ifwdominicfike @slxtarchive @stonerfromlesbos @bilsdillldough @47lake @hopingforgoodblogs @karaeilishh @mybluebossanova @sturnsmia @hopelessfawn @zayluvss @meliciousmel13

[moonstonejpg]

i am having a rough mental health day so here’s some christmas bakugo fluff

“mina, if you sing that song one more time I swear to god I’m going to—“

“kats!” you hiss, tugging his sleeve.

he harrumphs. “what? it’s annoying me.”

kirishima laughs from the kitchen, pointing at katsuki, who is standing in front of the christmas tree with his arms crossed.

“everything annoys you.”

katsuki rolls his eyes, and you can’t help but let out a small giggle as you watch him. he’s wearing a santa hat (courtesy of ochako), and yet he still has his signature scowl on his face.

his eyes snap to you upon hearing your giggle, and the corners of his lips tip up in a small smile. he reaches a hesitant arm around you, plucking your now empty glass from your hand.

“do you want more?” he asks quietly, eyes soft as he gazes as you.

you nod, smiling softly at him.

he then goes into the kitchen, smacking kirishima on the side of his head as he passes him.

“i don’t know how you did it.” a voice says next to you. you turn, seeing mina leaning over the couch where you’re seated, chin resting on the backing of the couch.

“did what?”

she sighs happily, reaching out to twist one of your curls around her finger.

“katsuki’s never…well, you know how he is. i don’t think he’s ever considered that another person could love him, and then you found him. and i don’t think i can ever thank you enough for showing him that he deserves to be loved.”

“I—he means the world to me.” you say quietly.

mina grins, then lets go of your hair, standing as you turn your eyes to the blonde who was making his way back over to you. he hands you your drink before leaning down to whisper in your ear. “wanna go somewhere a little quieter?”

you nod, heart thudding as you stand and follow him to the dining room where towers of cookie boxes are stacked, a result of a baking contest gone awry a few nights ago (izuku won, of course).

katsuki stands there for a few seconds, eyes shifting around the room nervously.

“i uh. i got you a gift.” he says quietly, avoiding eye contact as he slips a small white box from his back pocket.

you take it from him, eyeing the badly wrapped box with amusement.

“y—you got this for me?” you breathe.

he nods, a hand coming up to scratch his neck, heat flooding to his cheeks as he brings his eyes up to yours. you carefully unwrap the gift, taking the top of the box off and gasping at what lays beneath.

“katsuki, this is beautiful.” you say in awe, gently pushing back the wrapping and taking the rose gold necklace out. there was a small heart on the thin chain, and you gingerly touch it, eyes filling with tears.

“i know i’m not, like, the best at all of this stuff. but i promise i’m trying! i just—well, you deserve so much, and—“

“oh kats,” you whisper, stepping closer to him and cupping his jaw with one hand, necklace dangling in the other. “i love you so much, my sweet boy.”

a big beautiful grin splits his face, his eyes shining as he dips his forehead to rest on your own. “i love you too, my beautiful girl.”

[deonsx]

Hi there! :D

I was wondering if you’d do a scenario with Bachira, Rin, Reo, and Nagi having an upbeat cheerful girlfriend obsessed with Sanrio merch! (Specifically My Melody and Hello Kitty hehe)

Thank you sm!! 💕

I want cinnamoroll, good read!!! Nagi,Rin,Reo,Bachira

Rin Itoshi

Rin stood outside the bustling mall, hands tucked into his pockets as he waited. He glanced at his phone, checking the time. A familiar, excited voice suddenly cut through the noise

“Rin! Look what I got!” He turned to see his girlfriend bounding toward him, holding up a bright pink bag with Sanrio logos plastered all over it. Her face was lit up with pure joy, and he could already tell what was inside

“My Melody again?” he asked with a soft chuckle as she reached him, practically bouncing on her toes “And Hello Kitty! They had a limited-edition collaboration! I couldn’t resist!” She pulled out a pastel My Melody plush and a shiny Hello Kitty wallet “Aren’t they adorable?!”

Rin couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. “Yeah, they’re cute,” he admitted, though his tone was calm as always. She grabbed his arm, holding the plush up to his face “You don’t sound convinced! Look at her little ears, Rin!”

“Alright, alright” he said, leaning away slightly but laughing. “She’s cute. But didn’t you say you’d save money this month?” Her face scrunched up, mock offended “What’s saving money when My Melody is on the line? Priorities, Rin!”

Rin sighed dramatically, but his lips twitched into a smirk. “Priorities, huh? Does that include dragging me into the Sanrio store every time we come here?”Her grin widened “Obviously! You love it there, don’t lie”

“I wouldn’t call it love…”Before he could finish, she pulled him toward the store, her bag swinging with every step. As they walked inside, a staff member greeted them, and Rin resigned himself to his fate. His girlfriend was already darting toward the shelves, clutching a pair of My Melody socks like they were treasure

“Hey, Rin! These would look great on you!” she teased, holding up a pair of Hello Kitty slippers “I’m good,” Rin replied quickly, though the faintest blush dusted his cheeks. She laughed, slipping her arm through his as they browsed “You’re such a good sport, Rin. That’s why I like you!”

Rin smiled softly at her, his usual reserved demeanor warming in her presence. Even if he didn’t share her obsession, seeing her so happy made every trip worth it. As they left the store, her arms full of more Sanrio goodies, she beamed up at him “You’re the best, Rin. Next time, we’ll get you a matching Hello Kitty wallet!”

He shook his head with a small laugh “Sure, if it makes you happy” And honestly, he didn’t mind at all

Nagi Seishiro

The rain poured steadily outside as Nagi lay sprawled across the couch in his apartment, his usual relaxed demeanor unbothered by the gloomy weather. Beside him, his girlfriend sat cross-legged on the floor, her energy a stark contrast to his calm. The coffee table in front of her was covered in pink and white wrapping paper, ribbons, and a pile of Sanrio-themed gifts

“What are you even doing?” Nagi asked lazily, his head tilted to watch her “Wrapping presents for my Sanrio exchange group! Look, isn’t this the cutest paper?” She held up a sheet printed with My Melody and Hello Kitty in tiny, pastel hearts, Nagi blinked at it, unimpressed. “Looks the same as the last one”

“It’s not the same!” she huffed, dramatically pressing a hand to her chest like she’d been gravely insulted. “This one has glitter details!”

“Ah, glitter,” Nagi said with a faint smirk. “Totally different” She pouted, but only for a second before her grin returned. “You don’t get it, but that’s okay. I’m a Sanrio connoisseur. It’s my duty to spread the joy” He hummed noncommittally, his attention drifting back to the game paused on his phone. A few minutes later, her cheerful voice broke his focus again

“Nagi! You should come to the exchange party with me!”

“No thanks,” he replied immediately

“Oh, come on! It’ll be fun! There’ll be snacks, games… and you can see my collection in action!” She gestured to the pile of meticulously chosen gifts. “Plus, you’d look adorable with a little Hello Kitty keychain!” Nagi raised an eyebrow at her, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Pass”

“Fine, but if you’re staying home, you have to help me practice!” she declared, shoving a small plushie into his hands “Practice for what?”

“For the raffle! They’re giving away a My Melody toaster, and I need to win. You’re going to pretend to be my competition so I can strategize” Nagi stared blankly at the pink plush in his hand. “…You’re really serious about this”

“Dead serious” she said with a determined nod, hands on her hips. “Now, pretend you’re about to grab the last ticket!” He sighed but didn’t argue, holding the plush up like he was considering it. She immediately dove forward, snatching it back with a triumphant cheer

“See? That’s how you win!”Nagi leaned back against the couch, watching her with a mix of amusement and fondness. “If it’s that important, why don’t I just buy you the toaster?”

“No way! That’s not the point! Winning it myself makes it special!” “Hmm,” he murmured, closing his eyes “Guess I’ll leave you to your special toaster dreams, then” Despite his teasing, when she turned back to finish her wrapping, a small smile lingered on his face. She might’ve been obsessed with Sanrio, but watching her light up over something so simple? That was worth indulging every time

Bachira Meguru

The bustling sounds of the arcade surrounded Bachira as he leaned casually against a claw machine, his golden eyes sparkling with amusement. His girlfriend stood in front of the machine, her hands gripping the joystick with intense focus

“Alright, My Melody,” she muttered, her tone deadly serious. “You’re coming home with me this time” Bachira stifled a laugh, resting his chin in his hand. “You’ve already spent, what, five tries on this? Maybe it’s time to call in the pro”

She shot him a playful glare. “Excuse me, pro! I’ve almost got it. I just need the perfect angle” Bachira’s grin widened as he leaned closer “You sure? I’ve got a killer track record with these machines. Look at these hands.” He wiggled his fingers dramatically

“Okay, fine,” she said, stepping aside with an exaggerated sigh. “Show me your so-called skills” Bachira cracked his knuckles, stepped up to the machine, and studied the plushie inside—a pastel My Melody with a sparkly bow. He squinted at it like it was a tactical challenge

“Alright, My Melody,” he said, mimicking her earlier tone. “You’re coming home with me now” With a dramatic flair, he maneuvered the claw with surprising precision, his tongue sticking out slightly as he focused. The claw lowered, grabbed hold of the plush, and… dropped it

“Oops,” he said, scratching his head sheepishly. She burst out laughing “Killer track record, huh?”

“Hey, the machine’s rigged!” Bachira protested, though his wide grin betrayed his lack of seriousness “Move over,” she said, stepping back in with renewed determination “I’ll show you how it’s done”

After another intense round of joystick maneuvering, the claw latched onto the plush and finally deposited it into the prize chute. She gasped, spinning around to face him “I did it! I did it!”

Bachira clapped his hands, matching her energy. “You’re amazing! My Melody never stood a chance against you” She beamed, clutching the plushie tightly “This is going straight to the top of my collection!” Bachira tilted his head, a mischievous glint in his eye. “You’re forgetting something, though”

“What?” He pointed to himself. “You gotta name her after me “Bachira Melody” She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help laughing “Fine, Bachira Melody it is” He slung an arm around her shoulders as they walked out of the arcade, his other hand playfully poking the plushie. “Now she’s part of the family. But don’t forget—next time, I’m winning”

“Sure you are,” she teased, leaning into him with a smile. With Bachira’s cheerful and playful energy, every outing felt like a mini adventure—even if it was just rescuing a plushie from a claw machine

Reo Mikage

Reo adjusted his tie as he walked into the café, the jingling bell signaling his arrival. He scanned the room until his eyes landed on his girlfriend, sitting at a corner table. As usual, her energy was radiant—and so was her collection of Sanrio merchandise spread across the tabletop “Reo, over here!” she called, waving excitedly

Reo chuckled, making his way over “You brought your entire Sanrio shop with you?” She gasped, feigning offense. “First of all, this is only the essentials. Second, look at this!” She held up a My Melody-themed planner. “It’s got stickers, a pen, and a charm! Isn’t it adorable?”

Reo took a seat, leaning on his hand as he inspected it. “It’s cute” he admitted with a fond smile “But didn’t you just get a Hello Kitty planner last week?”

“That one’s for work. This one’s for personal stuff” she explained matter-of-factly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Reo smirked “Of course. My mistake”

As their drinks arrived, she pulled out yet another item—a sparkly Hello Kitty cardholder. “Oh! Guess what I did? I signed us up for a Sanrio-themed cooking class! Look!” Reo blinked, momentarily caught off guard “Cooking class?”

“Yes! We’ll make cupcakes shaped like Hello Kitty and My Melody!” She beamed, sliding the brochure across the table. Reo picked it up, reading the details. “You know I’m not much of a baker, right?”

“That’s okay” she said with a wink. “I’ll do the decorating, and you can handle the boring stuff—like mixing” He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Why does it feel like I’m getting the short end of the deal?”

“Because you love me” she teased, poking his arm. Reo’s smile softened as he leaned back in his chair, watching her rearrange her Sanrio merch like it was a prized treasure. “You know, if I wasn’t careful, you’d probably turn our whole apartment into a Sanrio showroom”

“Not a bad idea!” she said, grinning mischievously. “We could have My Melody curtains, Hello Kitty cushions—oh, and Keroppi mugs for the kitchen!”Reo sighed, though there was no real annoyance behind it. “Just don’t turn my office into a Sanrio shrine”

“No promises” she teased, resting her chin in her hands “But really, you’re okay with the cooking class?”

Reo leaned forward, reaching out to gently ruffle her hair “If it makes you happy, I’m okay with anything. Even cupcakes shaped like Hello Kitty” She giggled, clasping her hands together “You’re the best, Reo!”

“I know” he said with a playful smirk, taking a sip of his coffee. And as she started planning out their next Sanrio-inspired adventure, Reo couldn’t help but feel a warm satisfaction. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and indulging her whims was just another way he showed how much he cared

Enjoy!

[hhughes]

vi picking luke and jack up from the airport

the second jack and luke step into the airport’s pick up area jack sees a flurry of brown curls running their way, before crashing into his little brother’s chest.

jack smiles at the sight of their reunion for a second before glancing away letting them have their moment when violet starts pressing kisses all over luke’s face.

“god I missed you like crazy” luke mumbles against her lips, pulling her closer by her hips.

“you didn’t cut your hair!” she says excitedly, running her hands through the strands and luke bends his neck at weird angle so she can reach better, a strong contrast to how he usually strains his neck to keep his hair as far out reach from people as he can.

“I promised you I wouldn’t. but it’s getting too long now so you gotta cut it for me” he replies, hand slipping into the back pocket of her jeans

“what am I chopped liver?” jack whines when after a few minutes violet still hasn’t even glanced at him. or at anything other than luke’s face

“hi jacky. sorry,” she says sheepishly, coming over to hug him.

“did you drive your car?” jack asks as he presses a brief kiss to violet’s cheek, watching as she settles back next to luke’s side

“no, I took Luke’s. it’s bigger and I figured we’d need the space for your bags and everything,” violet explains and luke looks down at her with a big smile on his lips

“you took my car?” he asks with a hint of pride in his voice. he knows violet has a bit of anxiety when driving, especially this time of the year. and he knows she especially doesn’t like driving bigger cars so he couldn’t help but press a big kiss on her temple as she nods. that’s my girl.

“do you need help? I can carry something. . . ” violet offers, holding her hand out, palm facing up

“yeah, you can carry this,” luke says, slapping his hand into hers and intertwining their fingers, a cheesy smile on his face as she giggles softly

jack fake gags at them, doing a full body shudder before picking up his bags and making his way towards the exit. “I forgot how gross you guys are together. don’t you get tired of being like this” jack asks

“never” luke mumbles, kissing his girlfriend’s head as the three of them walk to the car.

jack fake gags another five times before they even make it to the car, but deep down he notices how relaxed luke’s shoulders are, the content expression on his little brother’s face one that jack hasn’t seen in a bit. and as much jack wants to give them shit for it, he’s eternally grateful someone makes his little brother this happy.

[darksturnz]

A LITTLE LIGHT

i hope everyone who celebrates is having a great Christmas eve! it honestly doesn’t even feel like it’s christmas tho :,) anyways here’s a sappy holiday blurb!

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, Star stood on her porch, the gift she’d spent hours wrapping cradled in her arms. Across the lot, Chris’s trailer glowed faintly with the light of a single window. It was beat up, like all the trailers here, but tonight it seemed more inviting than usual. Maybe it was the thought of Evelyn being home, or Lila’s enthusiasm for the holidays, but something about it pulled her in.

Evelyn had opened the door before Star even had the chance to knock.

“Hi, sweetheart!” Evelyn greeted her with a warm smile, her voice carrying the faint rasp of someone who had been through more than her share of battles. But tonight, there was a brightness in her that matched the twinkle in her eye. “Come in, come in—it’s cold out there!”

Star smiled, stepping inside and kicking off her boots at the door. The trailer smelled like cinnamon and pine, and for a moment, she felt as though she had stepped into a scene from one of those holiday movies Madison was always trying to get her to watch.

“Ma, you’re supposed to be resting,” came Chris’s voice from the kitchen. He appeared a moment later, wiping his hands on a dishtowel. His hair was slightly messy, as though he’d been running his hands through it while working. His eyes landed on Star, softening just a fraction.

“Chris, I’ve been resting for weeks, I’m not dead yet,” Evelyn shot back, already making her way to a box of ornaments sitting by the couch. She moved carefully, but there was a stubborn determination in her every step. “If I don’t help decorate this tree, who’s going to stop Lila from putting all the ornaments in one spot?”

Chris let out a small sigh but didn’t argue. Instead, he turned to Star, his expression softening even further. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Star replied, feeling a flutter in her chest she still wasn’t used to.

“Chris, help me with the lights!” Lila’s voice rang out from somewhere near the couch. The six-year-old was already untangling a mess of string lights, her curls bouncing as she pulled on the strands with the determination of someone three times her age.

Chris glanced at Star, his lips twitching into the faintest of smiles. “Guess you’re on ornament duty.”

The next hour was a flurry of activity. Lila darted around the room, her excitement infectious as she insisted on showing Star every ornament she pulled from the box.

“This one’s my favorite,” Lila said, holding up a glittery snowflake with a missing point. “I made it when I was little.”

“You were so much littler, huh?” Star teased, helping Lila hang the snowflake on a low branch where she could reach.

Chris worked silently but efficiently, stringing the lights around the tree with a practiced ease. Star couldn’t help but watch him from time to time, her heart softening at the sight of him crouching to adjust the lights at Lila’s height or standing back to admire his work with a faint nod of approval.

Evelyn refused to sit still. She was everywhere at once, hanging garlands, offering decorating tips, and reminiscing about Christmases past.

“Chris used to hate Christmas when he was Lila’s age,” Evelyn said with a laugh, hanging a wreath near the window. “He’d complain about the cold and the noise, but the second the gifts came out, he’d be the happiest kid in the world.”

“Ma,” Chris groaned, his ears turning pink.

Star bit back a laugh. “Sounds like he’s always been a little grinchy.”

“Not always,” Evelyn said, giving Chris a fond look. “He used to draw me Christmas cards every year—these beautiful little sketches of trees and snow. I still have them in a box somewhere.”

Chris looked away, busying himself with adjusting a strand of lights.

“Did he ever make you anything, Lila?” Star asked, smiling at the girl.

“He drew me a princess last christmas,” Lila said proudly. “But she had armor, ‘cause Chris said princesses don’t need saving.”

Star glanced at Chris, who was still pretending not to hear. She couldn’t help but smile.

As they worked, Evelyn turned to Star. “What about you, sweetheart? What does your family do for the holidays?”

Star hesitated, the warmth of the room suddenly feeling a little too close. She hadn’t expected the question, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure how to answer.

“My mom passed away a while ago,” she said finally, keeping her voice steady. “And my dad’s… away for the holidays. On a trip.” She tried to sound nonchalant, but the weight of the words hung in the air.

Evelyn’s face softened, her hand resting lightly on Star’s arm. “I’m sorry, honey. That must be hard.”

“It’s fine,” Star said quickly, forcing a small smile. 

For a moment, the room grew quiet, the cheerful buzz of activity paused. Then, Lila broke the silence.

“s’okay, Star,” she said brightly, tugging on her hand. “You can come over with us for Christmas!”

Star blinked, the sudden warmth in her chest catching her off guard. “Oh, I—”

“She’s right,” Evelyn said gently. “We’d love to have you.”

Lila leaned closer, cupping her hand to Star’s ear and whispering loudly, “Chris already got you a present anyway.”

“Bug.” Chris turned, his voice half-annoyed, half-embarrassed.

“What? It’s true!” Lila said, grinning innocently.

Star glanced at Chris, who was now very focused on untangling a nonexistent knot in the lights.

“Can’t wait to see what it is,” Star teased, her smile softening as Chris muttered something under his breath.

The trailer had transformed by the time they were done. The little tree sparkled with mismatched ornaments, glittering lights, and Lila’s signature touches—a cluster of candy canes in one spot and a crooked star on top. Garland draped over the windows, and a few candles flickered on the kitchen counter, their glow soft and warm.

Evelyn sat on the recliner, a satisfied smile on her face. “This is the best it’s looked in years,” she said, looking around the room. “You kids did good.”

Chris shook his head, pretending to brush off the compliment, but Star caught the faint smile tugging at his lips.

“It looks perfect,” Star said, standing beside him. Her shoulder brushed his, and he didn’t move away this time.

“Yeah,” he said softly, glancing down at her. “It does.”

Evelyn watched them with a knowing look, but for once, she didn’t say anything.

They all settled down on the couch and recliner with mugs of cocoa. Lila climbed into Star’s lap, chattering away about how she’d convinced Chris to let her pick out the tree (“He said no at first, but then I looked at him like this—” she demonstrated with wide, pleading eyes—“and he said fine!”).

Chris rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, sipping his cocoa quietly.

“I remember the year Chris tried to make eggnog” Evelyn said suddenly, her eyes sparkling with laughter.

“Ma, don’t,” Chris said, groaning.

“Oh, I’m telling this one,” Evelyn said with a grin. She turned to Star. “He was about thirteen, and he decided he wanted to make Christmas special. So, he found this recipe for eggnog—except he didn’t have half the ingredients, so he just improvised.”

“It was fine,” Chris muttered.

“It was terrible,” Evelyn corrected. “It curdled! And the kitchen smelled like spoiled milk for days. But he was so proud of it, and he made me drink an entire glass.”

Star couldn’t hold back her laugh, and even Chris, despite his embarrassment, let out a low chuckle.

“Don’t let her fool you,” Chris said, shaking his head. “She told me it was the best eggnog she’d ever had.”

“I couldn’t crush your little spirit,” Evelyn said with a mock-serious tone.

The sound of their laughter filled the room, blending with the warm glow of the lights. For a moment, Star forgot about everything else—the cold, her empty trailer, the ache of her father’s absence. Here, in this small space, surrounded by this messy, imperfect family, she felt a sense of belonging she hadn’t realized she’d been missing.

Lila’s energy finally waned, and she fell asleep curled up on the couch. Chris carried her to her room, tucking her in with the kind of care that always surprised Star. He didn’t speak, but the way he smoothed her curls and pulled the blanket up to her chin said everything.

When he returned, Evelyn was already making her way to her room.

“I think I’ll turn in too,” she said, but not before stopping to kiss Chris on the cheek. “Thank you for making this a good night.”

Chris looked embarrassed, but his smile lingered even after Evelyn turned to Star.

“You’re always welcome here, sweetheart,” Evelyn said softly, squeezing Star’s hand. “Don’t be a stranger.”

As Evelyn disappeared into her room, Star made her way to the door, Chris following behind her. She turned to say goodbye, but the words caught in her throat when Evelyn’s voice rang out from down the hall.

“Oh, would you look at that!” Evelyn said, peeking her head out of her bedroom with a cheeky grin. She pointed upward. “Mistletoe!”

Star blinked, her eyes darting to the doorway. Sure enough, there it was—a tiny, fake ornament hanging crookedly above the doorframe.

Chris groaned, his hand running through his hair. “Ma,” he muttered, his ears turning pink.

Evelyn only laughed, retreating into her room. “Goodnight, you two!”

Star turned back to Chris, her heart pounding. He looked down at her, his usual guarded expression faltering into something softer.

“Well,” Star said, trying to sound casual even as her voice wavered, “it’d be sorta rude not to follow tradition huh?”

Chris hesitated for a moment, his hand twitching at his side as though he wasn’t sure what to do. Then, slowly, he stepped closer.

The kiss was soft—gentle in a way that made Star’s chest ache. Chris’s hand came up to cup her cheek, and she leaned into him, her fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt. It was different from the first time—less tentative, more certain.

When they finally pulled apart, Chris rested his forehead against hers, his eyes half-closed. “She’s gonna give me hell for this,” he muttered, a small, crooked smile tugging at his lips.

Star laughed softly, her breath warm against his skin. “Worth it.”

Star stepped out into the cold night air, her cheeks still flushed. She made her way across the lot, the glow of Chris’s trailer fading behind her.

“Star!”

She stopped, turning just in time to see Chris jogging toward her. His breath curled in the air, and before she could ask what he was doing, he was there, pulling her close and kissing her again.

It was rougher this time—more urgent, as though he was afraid the moment might slip away. When he pulled back, his voice was low and unsteady.

“Don’t ever think you’re not part of something,” he said, his hand lingering on her waist. “Not anymore.”

Star stared at him, her heart pounding.

“Goodnight,” he said softly, his lips quirking into a faint smile before he turned and walked back to the trailer.

Star stood there for a moment, her breath visible in the cold night air. Then, with a small, dazed smile, she turned and went inside.

AUTHORS NOTE: did you catch what i did there or… ;3

TAG LIST: @jetaimevous @sturnsblunt @riasturns @ifwdominicfike @chrissturns-wife @mattsmunch @pip4444chris @ribread03 @ariestrxsh @angelic-sturniolos111 @pvssychicken @mattslolita @stvrnzcherries @dottieboo @lovergirl4gracieabrams @bluestriips @sturniolo-fann @slut4brunettes

[the-californicationist]

Happy Holidays Cali, hope the holidays are treating you well.

I'm curious though, how do you think the 141 would treat you for the holidays? :)

Four Calling Birds

Gaz would be the classic Christmas romantic. The house has lights, the hedge has lights, the bins have lights. There’s a big Santa in the garden, and you’ve got three trees - all real and hand cut. The whole house smells like oranges and clove and balsam and cinnamon. You come home one evening, exhausted from work, and there he is, standing in your way, pointing straight up at the mistletoe, smiling like a fiend.

“Is that real?” You ask, reaching up to the hanging leaves in wonder, your fingers coming back coated in glitter.

“Yep,” he said smugly, wrapping you up in his arms, “Cut it myself.”

“Kyle,” you tried to protest, eager to set your bag down and get out of your clothes.

But, he took your head in his hands, lifting your mouth to kiss him, letting his full, soft lips take your breath away. Then, you felt your bag fall off of your shoulder, and you were dragged into the hallway, stumbling but weightless, lifted and carried in his huge arms. You were dizzy from his kisses, drunk on him, weak from the weight of the day. You opened your eyes and watched him shove his way into the bedroom, and you pulled your mouth away from his to gasp.

“Kyle!”

“What?” He stared down at you, playing innocent with his sweet smile.

“The ceiling! Have you lost your mind?”

All over the ceiling of your bedroom, boughs and boughs of mistletoe hung glittering from a series of carefully strung lattice, covering the whole room in its emerald green canopy.

“Mmm,” he sighed, dragging his hot mouth down your neck, “Looks like you owe me a few more kisses, babes. Some here,” he kissed your cheek, “Some here,” he kissed your mouth, “Some here,” he tugged down the neck of your top, suckling on an exposed nipple, “…and definitely some here.” His free hand writhed its way into your trousers and cupped the warm flesh of your crotch, that naughty mouth grinning as you sighed into him.

It took six months to get the glitter out of the rug.

🎄🩷🎄🩷🎄

Johnny wasn’t much of a decorator, but the tree you did have was full of handmade ornaments from all of his many nieces and nephews. For him, it was all about spending time with family.

Christmas was the only reason you had bought this farmhouse out in the middle of nowhere. Six bedrooms lay empty for 358 days out of the year, but when the week of Christmas came around, you had MacTavishes up to your eyeballs. His oldest sister, her husband, her three kids, and their ancient sheltie all piled into your home in a laughing, screaming, tumbling bunch. His second sister, her wife, their two sets of twins, and their entire collection of foster children, a growing lot each year, all spilled in after them, well-mannered and armed with gifts and toys galore. His ma and da, each with their own fat corgi and hunched over their canes, made their way straight to the kitchen to start cooking meals like they were fighting some sort of battle with your pots and pans. Your whole home smelled like spice and savory meats within minutes, and when they left, it always seemed cleaner than when it had started.

And there was Johnny, right in the middle of them, shining like a star, tugging you around the house with him, singing and playing and dancing and celebrating every delightful bite. He always had a baby in his arms, and sometimes he was balancing two in his lap, covered in torn paper crowns and smeared with shortbread flour from messy little hands.

But, in the night, when all was quiet, he would move himself over you, pulling at your clothes like you were wrapped in paper, his very own gift. He shushed your protests, not willing to worry with you about whether someone might hear.

“Dinnae fash yersel’, bonnie. They all ken how bairns are made. Wouldnae it be grand to give the wee’uns another cousin to play with? C’mon, lass, lemme give you a wee MacTavish for Christmas.”

You were going to need a bigger house.

🎄🩷🎄🩷🎄

Simon never really grew up with much of a Christmas, so your home lacked the glittering splendor of that of his sergeants. But, there were some things that were absolutely non-negotiable.

You had to drag out his scrawny, leaf bare tree from the attic. It was barely three feet tall, but he wouldn’t hear of buying another one. The star looked rusted, and half the lights didn’t work, but he made sure the bottom of it was always covered in thoughtful presents for you to open.

There had to be a Yule log. He wouldn’t hear of buying another gas fireplace, and he insisted on burning it right in the hearth, always good to sweep the ashes away when he was done.

And, above all else, there had to be The Pudding. It wasn’t homemade like the MacTavishes’. It wasn’t fancy like the Garricks’. It had to be the cheap one from the local Lidl for 80p. The Favorina six-month matured Christmas pudding was the star of the show, and your cupboards were full of them. You’d never seen a man take down so many individually packaged cakes before. He was like a machine. He’d come home, pull you into his lap, flip on the telly, and give you a needy look.

For once, it wasn’t your warm cunt he was begging for. No. Simon Riley was begging for another cheap pudding that you “shared” between you. You’d take the first polite bite, and he’d house down the rest like a starving dog, his mouth sticky from the sweet fruits and his breath hot from the bottom-shelf brandy.

Then, he would kiss you, groaning into your mouth, pulling you the rest of the way onto his lap, tasting like sultanas and cigarettes, choking you with his invading tongue.

“Si…” You panted, trying to escape, “Let me brush my teeth. I taste like figgy pudding, you nutter.”

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare.”

You set a trap this year, and when you pulled a spare pudding out of the freezer one random day in July, you thought he’d never take his hands off of you.

🎄🩷🎄🩷🎄

John Price never once asked for presents for Christmas. He didn’t want gifts, and he would get so cross when you bought things for him even though he showered you with trinkets throughout the season. But, his apartment was never decorated. You wondered if he was a bit of a Scrooge. But then, you overheard him talking with his sergeant, telling him the only thing he wanted for the holiday was a beach with the missus, and you decided it was your turn to be Santa Claus.

One night, when John dragged himself through the doorway past quitting time, he noticed a big red arrow, cut out from craft paper, pasted on the floor. Then, a few feet in front of him, there was another. He frowned, setting down his bag and following the arrows cautiously through the house. It led him straight to the bedroom, and there you were, wrapped in nothing but a ribbon, tied up with bows, sitting on the middle of the bed with a box in your hands.

“Wha’s all this, then?” He smiled at your lack of attire, toying with the end of the ribbon and threatening to pull it away.

“Open your present, John,” you smiled, handing him the box.

“I told you, love, I don’t wa—“

“Open it,” you cut him off, pushing the box forward.

He twisted his mouth into a disgruntled grimace, but you knew he couldn’t stay mad at you for long. When he pulled the box apart, his eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed in confusion.

“What…”

He pulled out the plane tickets and inspected them further, trying to make sense of what you had done. You shrugged, rubbing his shoulders,

“I told Kate you needed some leave. So, we’re off to Fiji.”

“Fiji…” He breathed in disbelief, his blue eyes pinning you in place.

“Fiji,” you smiled, pulling the bow that covered your heavy tits off the rest of the way, “Private beach, palm trees, no cell service…”

He let the box fall to the floor and climbed over you, forcing you onto your back as his huge body bullied you beneath him. John’s voice was gravelly and low when he said,

“I don’t know what’s got me harder, love. Seein’ you all wrapped up like this, or the fact that I thought I just heard you say: no cell service.”

You gave him a wicked grin and leaned your mouth up to graze across the shell of his ear, whispering,

“No cell service.”

His hips thrust against you, spreading your legs apart from the force, making your soft skin scrape against the harsh canvas of his pants, burying his mouth against your neck, threatening you,

“Say it again, baby.”

“No… cell… service.”

By the end of your holiday, you were sunburnt, and you could barely walk straight, but you couldn’t remember having a better Christmas.

[veronicaphoenix]

tangled | part ii

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x fem. reader | Words: 1.8k | Reading time: 5mins.

one shot ✨ summary: noah and his girl are babysitting nicholas' cat mimi for a couple of days before Christmas, but mimi proves to be more than a handful and noah is quickly reaching his limits as the cat wreaks havoc in the apartment.

→ Read part one here. 🎄

This is for the anon that requested a continuation 🤭 here you go, love <3

tags & trigger warnings: established relationship, christmas season, explicit sexual content (p. in v. protected, spankings, biting/sucking, grinding).

tangled | part ii ✨🎄

Noah paced the living room with Mimi in his arms, weighing his options. Where could he leave her? The laundry room? Too risky—she might claw her way into the washing machine and accidentally start it. The guest bathroom? Definitely not—she’d shred the toilet paper to confetti in seconds. The balcony? No chance—she might leap off and never be seen again. If that happened, Nicholas would absolutely murder him.

After a few laps around the coffee table, Noah sighed and set Mimi on the couch. He crouched in front of her, his large hands cradling her tiny, furry face.

“Listen to me, you little menace,” he said. Behind him, his girl stood with her hands on her hips, amused at Noah’s antics at the cat despite her own still-smoldering need for him. She bit back her laughter. “I’m going back to the bedroom,” Noah continued, staring into Mimi’s unblinking eyes. “You’re going to stay right here. You’re going to stay put. I’m going to go finish my... business with my girl. Got it? Whether it takes thirty minutes or two hours, you will not interrupt. If you do...” He paused for effect, narrowing his eyes. “...I’ll call Nick and tell him to find you another babysitter. Understood?”

Mimi blinked, then let out a soft, unimpressed meow.

“Good.” Noah straightened to his full height and turned to his girl. “You’re coming with me.”

Before she could react, he scooped her up in his arms, drawing a surprised yelp that quickly turned into laughter. He strode toward the bedroom, but out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Mimi on the couch. She was crouched, ready to pounce.

“No!”

Noah sprinted to the bedroom. Mimi lunged but missed, landing on the floor with a thud. Noah kicked the door shut with his foot, locking her out. From the other side came a volley of meows and the scratch-scratch-scratch of claws on wood. His girl shook with laughter in his arms.

“She’s relentless, jeez,” he muttered, placing her on the bed. 

He listened for signs. After a minute, the scratches stopped. Mimi had given up, it seemed. Noah let out a breath and began to tug off his joggers.

“Where were we?” he asked, a teasing smile on his lips.

She was lounging on the bed, still in his oversized t-shirt and panties. Despite the fabric separating them, Noah leaned down, pressing his hardening cock against her. A damp spot quickly formed where they touched. She arched her hips, her body seeking more friction.

“I think…” she said, “I was naked.”

“You’re right,” Noah replied, pulling the shirt over her head. He resumed his deliberate movements, rubbing himself against her in a way that made her gasp and squirm beneath him.

Unable to take the teasing, she slid her hands down to her panties, hooking her thumbs beneath the waistband and slipping them off. Propping herself on her elbows, she leaned up to capture his mouth in a sloppy kiss. Her hand snaked downward, wrapping around his length and stroking him, pumping him. Noah groaned.

Against her lips, he murmured, “I don’t think you were in this position.”

She laughed and let herself fall back onto the bed. As Noah straightened on his knees, she lifted her legs and draped them over his shoulders without his assistance.

“That’s more like it,” he said with a grin.

“And…” she continued, her voice teasing, “I think something hard was inside me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Needy for it, huh?”

She bit her lip in response. Noah shifted, grabbing another condom, rolling it in and positioning himself just right, and—

Noah slid into her smoothly, drawing moans from both of them as they adjusted to the sensation. He paused, his gaze dropping to where their bodies joined, captivated by the sight. For a moment, he was awed by how perfectly they fit together. They were made for this. 

Then, unable to resist the pull of her lips, he leaned down to cover her body with his. His mouth hovered over hers.

“I’m going to break!” she exclaimed suddenly, her voice a mix of laughter and playful alarm at the intense stretch in her legs. The position had her body bending in a way she wasn’t quite used to.

Noah smirked as he replied, “You’re so dramatic.” He stretched his neck, closing the gap to kiss her deeply, his tongue coaxing hers into a slow, teasing dance.

As she held her breath at the pull on her legs—intense, but not unbearable—Noah’s hand slid down the back of her thigh, caressing her, and then, there was a sharp, playful smack on her ass, the sound cracking through the air. The sudden sting made her gasp, her eyes snapping open in surprise.

“Did that distract you?” he asked, his tone dripping with mischief.

The shock melted into a grin as she bit her lip, her cheeks flushed. “Maybe,” she said with a breathy voice. “Do it again, and I’ll let you know.”

His grin widened, wicked and full of promise. “Careful what you wish for.”

He spanked her again, and she loved it, the sting of his hand leaving a delicious warmth that spread through her skin. 

Her breath hitched as she bit her lip when a sudden, possessive urge to claim him overtook her. She let her legs fall to the sides before wrapping them tightly around his waist. Her hands reached up to his neck, she pulled him down and then, she bit him, her teeth sinking gently into tatted skin.

Noah groaned, the sound low and primal. A moment later, she was sucking on the spot she’d bitten, her lips and tongue working against his skin as he thrust into her with measured strokes.

He hissed through his teeth, his hand tangling in her hair and pulling. She didn’t stop; she marked him, her tongue soothing over the spot, fully aware of the effect it had on him. It turned him on. The way he pulsed hard inside her only confirmed it.

“Keep doing that and…” he rasped, his voice strained, “I won’t be able to keep you entertained for more than two minutes.”

She smiled against his skin, her breath hot against the mark she’d left. “Good,” she whispered teasingly, her words a challenge as she arched into him. “I like it when you lose control.”

Noah’s answering growl was all the warning she got before he shifted his angle. He grabbed one of her legs, guiding it back onto his shoulder while keeping the other snugly wrapped around his waist. Settling back on his knees, he adjusted and continued to move purposefully before quickening his pace. From that position, he had the perfect view of her—the way he disappeared inside of her, the way her body arched, the way her lips parted with each moan, the way her breasts moved in sync with his thrusts. 

Their sounds of pleasure filled the room, mingling with the faint sounds of skin meeting skin, their bodies covered in a sheen of sweat. Noah watched her closely, enthralled by every shift in her expression, every small noise that escaped her lips. Her hands gripped the sheets before one reached out to grab his and guide it to her stomach and lower. 

He instantly understood. Pressing his palm flat against her lower belly, his thumb found her clit. And he started to trace feather-like, delicate circles that had her gasping. Her body tensed, trembling as her pleasure built to a peak.

Her head pressed back against the pillow, her eyes squeezing shut as the orgasm ripped through her, leaving her pulsing and clenching around him.

A few more hard, deliberate thrusts, and he groaned deeply, spilling into the condom as his body shuddered with his release. His movements slowed, riding out the aftershocks until they were both spent, panting and glistening with sweat.

Noah let himself collapse onto the bed beside her, one hand resting on his chest as it rose and fell with each heavy breath. For a moment, he was sure he was done for the night.

His girl had other plans.

She turned to face him, the mess between her legs a bit uncomfortable, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t finished. 

She nibbled at his freckled shoulder until he cracked an eye open.

He tilted his head toward her, a lazy smile spreading across his lips. His eyes were tired but the look on his face was one of pure satisfaction. 

She swung one leg over him, straddling his hips as she settled into his lap. His semi-hard length nestled beneath her, warm and already stirring back to life.

“Ready for another go, already?” he asked, his hands instinctively finding her waist as he watched her remove the used, sticky condom and exchange it for a new one. 

She was worse than the minx outside. His girl had the same mischievous glint in her eye as she began to grind against him, her slick wetting his cock and reigniting the fire in both of them. The mess between them only made it hotter.

Noah grunted low in his throat, the sight of her moving atop him—her head tipping back, her lips parting to release quiet moans—was enough to send a jolt of arousal straight to his core.

“You said minimum thirty minutes,” she stated, her voice breathy as she continued to wiggle her hips, chasing her own pleasure. “Maybe two hours. It’s not even been ten minutes.”

“You’re so demanding,” he joked, his fingers digging into her skin. 

“You like it,” she replied. 

“Damn right I do. We better start making the minutes count.”

“I am,” she moaned, her breath hitching as she shifted just right, the friction making her thighs tremble.

Noah’s eyes darkened, the teasing gleam replaced with raw hunger. In one fluid motion, he sat up, his hand tangling in her hair. He tugged her head back, exposing her neck to him, and leaned in close. His lips brushed her ear as he growled, “Yes, you are.”

And then he sank his teeth into her neck, claiming her all over again.

Outside, Mimi had successfully clawed open a packet of flour she’d found on the kitchen counter. A white cloud puffed into the air, settling on her fur as she pranced and meowed happily.

Taglist:

@amelia-acero | @alwaysfightforwhoyouare | @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning | @somebodyels3 | @respectfulrebel | @lacy1986 <3

[cheshiresense]

Ok so I've actually gotten several asks about what Starrk's relationship with Unohana/the Fourth is/was like, but I don't have time atm to get into it, but I also want to toss out some of my headcanons about it because I've thought about it a lot, so I'll just list out a few headcanons in no particular order and get back to those asks later.

- First of all, Unohana is actually super protective of Starrk, but in a way that just confuses and/or scares people. Like she’s the sort to say dead serious no joke “my lieutenant is a gentle soul, you will answer to me if you upset him” while Starrk’s murdering his way across a battlefield and his reiatsu is eating a bunch of people for lunch 😂😂

- Unohana never thought she even had any protective instincts but Starrk just brings it out in her. At her age, with her experience, she can better sense just how old he actually is, just as she can sense-smell the amount of blood on him, so she knows he's lived a long time and killed a lot of people. But she can also tell he's not like her, he doesn't enjoy that sort of thing—when he kills, it's probably either because he has no choice or because he does it out of a sense of duty to whatever it is he believes in enough to fight for. Case in point, literally no one as powerful as she knows Starrk to be would choose to enter the Fourth with an honest interest in learning even more about healing than he already does. He's patient with even the weakest unseated Shinigami, and Unohana no longer has to personally come running every time the Eleventh decides to stop by to harass her officers because Starrk is there to stonewall them at the gates. But at the same time, the grief and loneliness she can sense in his reiatsu makes her want to shed blood because it never goes away. He can coax the shyest officers out of their shells with that no-pressure-calm he's constantly radiating, and for all that he'd prefer a nap over conversation any day of the week, he's also indulgent with members of his own squad when they ask him questions about a lecture or for a spar when he has time. He's reliable and steady and everything the Fourth needs him to be, with a reserved personality and a long-suffering air about him but careful hands and an even more careful mind in everything he does. And yet, hidden beneath all that, Unohana has never met anyone so constantly, miserably tired all the time. So yes, in her opinion, Starrk is a gentle, even fragile soul. She doesn't know - yet - what broke him so badly, but he's also hers now—she chose him, and he chose her, and she doesn't think she's imagining the way the Fourth feels stronger and stabler with his presence, with the easy way he shoulders the weight of a division right alongside her, with how their subordinates walk around with more confidence too in response to having two monsters watching over them now. For his competence as her second-in-command alone, she would've shielded him from anyone who upset him. But for the way he follows her around, genuinely eager to learn; for the way he sits with the younger officers and answers their questions and shows them new Kidou spells and treats them to snacks and protects them on missions; for the way he can stare down her Bankai without flinching and only grumble afterwards about how he deserves a week of sleep for such a hard spar but never even bat an eye when she reaches out to heal him with the very hands that had done their level best to rip him apart for several hours only minutes earlier; for the way he can give back just as good as he gets and allows her the chance to let herself off her own self-made leash every few weeks without having to hold back—for all of that and more, she would challenge anyone who dares try and force him to draw his blade against his will or break him any further than he already has been.

- I headcanon that for students who want to enter the Fourth, they have to take a separate written exam before they graduate. Results aren't great because there isn't actually much of a medical track at the Academy, plus it's generally considered uncool to end up at the Fourth, so there aren't many who would even take the exam, and of those who do, most can't even finish the entire thing, and minimum pass percentage is probably something like 50% lmao. At this point, it's less an exam and more an assessment of where the student is at so the Fourth's seated officers can sort the newcomers more easily when they have to start them on the basics. Then along comes Starrk who not only finishes the entire exam but also gets everything right, and it catches Unohana's attention enough to get her to make the trip to the Academy to speak to Starrk herself just to find out more, and the more she finds out, the more she thinks she'll finally be able to name a lieutenant with the kind of standards she's always wanted to be able to measure them by. At the end of the impromptu interview, she asks one more question—she asks him if he'd be willing to take one more test and become her official student. The lieutenant seat is his either way, but she's never had a personal student before. She won't be teaching him from scratch, which is a shame—someone with potential and a learning curve like Starrk's should've been scooped up long ago. But there's also more than just medical Kidou and surgical procedures she can pass on to him, and he may be a gentle soul, but he's a gentle soul with something he fiercely wants to protect, and that means there are other things she can teach him. He says yes, and that day, on the day they meet for the first time in any timeline, in a training room deep beneath the Academy, all seals activated for both privacy and containment, and even then they'd barely held—Unohana unseals her Bankai for the first time in centuries, and Starrk weathers every blow with the unyielding bedrock found beneath mountains and deserts and canyons and oceans, timeworn but timeless and enduring all the same. In the aftermath, both of them bleeding from multiple wounds with a good chunk of their reiatsu depleted, she thinks, yes, this one will be mine. He is strong enough to stand with me, tempered enough to be unafraid of me, old enough to have experienced the worst the world can offer, and wise enough to accept and bear it. And yet he remains... soft, at heart. Kind, in a way I do not fully understand, but it is precious nonetheless. It is something that should be protected. He is someone I can protect, so he will be mine.

- She'd prob also be like "let's get this signed and sealed before the old coot catches wind of another dual-wielding Shinigami and thinks he has first dibs just because he got the other two" 😂

- She would 1000% give Shunsui a shovel talk. It's probably the most terrifying shovel talk anyone has ever received in living memory ganbaa shunsui be brave you can do it.

- As for Starrk, he adores the fuck out of Unohana. But he’s also constantly baffled by how she kind of mothers him sometimes, in really off-putting ways (to others) but he doesn't realize that. Like the first time he goes out on a not-a-date with Shunsui, Unohana will be like "I wrote a dissertation called 101 Ways to Sterilize a Man, please read it over, I require urgent feedback" all while staring gloomy-eyed straight at a sweating Shunsui from behind Starrk's back because she'd watched this brat grow up, so she knows his skirt-chasing tendencies better than most, knows the way he likes beautiful people, likes flirting with them and charming them, likes the novelty of a new relationship and the thrill of the chase, and so she also knows the way it always ends with broken hearts but hardly ever his own. At most, he'll pout for a few days or a few weeks and mope and whine to Ukitake, and then he'll move on. He's always earnest and genuine in the moment, treats his lovers with all the respect and affection in the world when they're together, but he bores easily, and for all that he plays a good game of being open and friendly and approachable, Unohana has rarely met anyone more guarded when it comes to matters of the heart than Kyouraku Shunsui. He'd grown out of genuinely pursuing people in more recent decades, goes through the motions but no longer seems very interested in romance or even short dalliances, mostly only flirts these days with his long-time female acquaintances who all know better, but it would be easy for him to fall back into old habits. If he dares to be as careless with Starrk's heart as he'd been with previous lovers, Unohana won't stop until the Eighth Division will require a new captain.

- Starrk totally calls Unohana Shishou-san eventually. He has a thing for nicknames. Shunsui is of course Taichou-san. Shiina is Sensei-san. Unohana is Shishou-san. One person per category. It's an odd quirk of his.

[neuvilette-tea-party]

Hi! Let me start by saying I really like the way you write and your ideas!

I was wondering if you could write a gn Zaunite!reader x Steb

I'm not sure if you already did something like that so I'm asking! Thank you!🫶🫶

Mmmmmmmmh... I immediately thought of that scenario when I received that request! Hihihihihihihi

ʚɞ⋆༺𓆩⚔ Steb x GN!Zaunite reader ⚔𓆪༻⋆ʚɞ

Tags: First meeting, detention, Birthday cake, Reader has a little sister, Steb is nice in the coldest way possible

“Hey... Hey!” 

You growl, ignoring the idiot in the cell next to you, elbows on your knees, flabergasted with yourself. 

You can’t believe you got caught like a rookie! What a dumbass can you be, seriously? 

“Hey!” 

You spin on your bench and slam your boots against the bars of your cell right next to his face. 

“What?!” You demand with a contained rage. 

“Why are you in for?” 

You hiss and spin away, fixing the ground with a closed expression. 

“What did you do?” 

“What’s it to you? Leave me in peace!” You snarl. 

“Rhoooooo, come on! We all did something in their eyes, what’s yours? You robbed a bank? Pulled a gun? Why are you here?” 

You deeply breathe, feeling the deep urge to throw your fist to his face to make him shut up. You raise your eyes to see an enforcer walking between the holding cells of the police station, a Fishman with a no-nonsense face and a long baton in his grip. 

You wince, remembering the bites of the enforcers’ weapons in your back, prompting you to roll your shoulders to relax. The enforcer throws his indifferent gaze inside the different cells as he makes his rounds. 

But there aren’t many people today... You may be only two in here. 

“So?” You neighboor insist. 

“I tried to steal a cake.” You admit between your teeth. 

“You...?” He starts repeating before exploding laughing. 

You roll your hands into fists, fighting the urge to kick the bars again, but with the Fisman here... 

He remains still, right before your two cells, straight like an I, back turned to you, looking around the detention floor. 

“A cake?!” The other idiot asks again, “You can’t be serious?!” 

“Shut up! It’s my lil sister’s birthday! She wanted a good cake this year, a fancy one like they do in the upper floors.” 

“And as the good big sibling that you are, you went and got one for her? Stop, I’ll shade a tear!” He keeps laughing loudly, prompting the Fishman to slam his baton against his bars. 

You scrub your skull with a sigh. 

“Well, I had one... It’s ruined now... But I promised her...” 

“That’s pathetic!” He finishes laughing, “I should fear for my life being near someone of organized crime like you!” 

“Shut up!” You bite, “You’re a lonely loser, you don’t know what it’s like to have someone counting on you, you spend your days drinking like a fish! You have no lesson to give me!” 

The Fishman’s ear twitch and he spins, walking the rest of the floor in his stern strut, silent like a ghost. 

You sigh and lay on your hard bench, ready to spend the night in detention, your head filled with that adorable pink box full of creamy cake, now absolutely destroyed where you’ve been apprehended. 

You’re little sister will be sad... 

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

“Wake up!” They slam your door open with force. 

You jump in a seating position with a gasp, wondering for a second why you did not wake up in your own bedroom. 

Ah yes... The cake... 

“Someone bailed your ass out, get out.” The enforcer at your door explains. 

You stand on your feet, your legs still wobbly with fatigue but head towards the hall for prisoners as they indicates you.  

You sniff and reach the counter where you discover the Fishman who guarded you yesterday, typing on a workstation diligently. 

“Damn, you do everyone’s paper too? You should reach out to HR.” You chuckle, leaning against the bars of the counter. 

He raises his eyes from the screen with an eyebrow, gauging you up and down. 

“So...” You gulp, straightening your position under his stern gaze, “How do we proceed? I’ve never been to detention before.” 

He probably do not believe you but says not a thing and slides a form for you to read and sign. 

“Hey! You know who bailed me out?” You ask while you sign. 

He doesn’t respond and disappears in the back, leaving you alone like an idiot. 

He reappears with your studded jacket, your belt, and pocket knife. He lays them down on his side of the counter and slides them through the small opening still mute. 

You check your blade and hide in your back pocket, pass on your belt, and seize your jacket. 

You stop dead in your tracks. 

You discover a pink box under your jacket. 

Exactly like the one you lost during your arrest. 

You carefully open it to discover a perfectly intact and fresh cake inside. 

“Hum...” You start, “Where does that come from?”  

He sits back down, ignoring you blatantly, resuming his typing. 

“Hey! Fuzz! Listen to me, where does that cake come from?!” 

He slowly turns his head toward you with his closed expression. Seeing your furious expression, he grabs the box to pull it back. 

By reflex, you grab it too to keep it! 

Dear... Gods, he has some strength! You have to use your two hands to keep it. Still pulling he tilts his head to you, blinking his third eyelid with a cold expression. 

“I-I still want it!” You protest, pulling hard. 

He raises an eyebrow before letting go of the box and delicately indicates the door to leave. 

You press the precious pick box against your chest like he would jump from his seat to grab it again like an animal. 

“I... Thank you.” You just mumble and walk away. 

Thank you? 

Thank you?! 

Since when do you thank Pltover’s pigs?! 

But... Could it be him? 

You squint as the sun blinds you, avoiding the dirty looks of all those uptight people of the upper floor witnessing you leaving detention. You look again at the creamy cake in the pink box. It looks absolutely delicious, with even a ‘Happy birthday little sister’ written on it. 

That cannot possibly be that Fish fuzz, can it? 

You stop and look back at the police station in silence. 

You shake your head and resume your walk, your little sister awaits you. 

And her cake!  

@dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @brandy-and-bane @sp-the-fae-queen @aeeliy @sanktastuff @telephoneonawire @daichisito @sofiyathelast-blog 

[psychoticallykind]

Jegumas Day Twenty-Three - Family Gathering

Warnings: Racism, Walburga Black, Orion Black

2,399 words

@noblehouseofgay

Sorry it's a bit late, but I hope you'll like it.

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

“Are you completely sure about this?” Regulus checked again. “We don’t have to. It’s okay.”

James squeezed his hand. “You said that you wanted to give your parents a chance.”

“I was drunk,” Regulus protested.

James shook his head. “You were maybe tipsy, and you were sad. Because your parents haven’t had the chance to accept you, and you wanted to try. You wanted to hope, Reg, and we agreed on that.”

“I know,” Regulus mumbled. He stared at the house - the house he’d grown up in. The house he’d learned to be seen and not heard in. The house where he’d been berated and insulted and reprimanded in.

They’d sent him an invitation. Not Sirius, though.

They knew James was coming.

His mother had written that she was happy he’d responded.

She hadn’t mentioned James.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” James reminded him. “But I’m okay with this.”

Regulus took a deep breath. He’d wanted this. He’d needed this.

He needed to give them one chance to make things better. He needed to know, beyond a doubt, that walking away was the better choice.

“You’ll tell me if you need to leave.”

James nodded. “And so will you.”

“Right.” Regulus nodded, taking another breath. “Okay. Let’s - yes. Let’s go in.”

“Okay,” James replied softly. He held Regulus’s hand all the way to the door.

Regulus stared at the doorbell for a second. “Could you please ring it? I don’t think I can.”

“Of course.” James squeezed his hand again, reassuring him as the bell chimed. “Is it okay for us to be holding hands when they open the door?”

“Um.” Regulus tried to think clearly. “I don’t know. I - maybe not at first. Is that okay? They won’t be used to it.”

James let go, giving him a warm smile. “Of course it’s okay. Whatever you need.”

The door opened, and Regulus was a little relieved to see Kreacher again. “Kreacher, hello.”

The house-elf smiled. “Master Regulus.” He did a small bow. “And Master Regulus’s guest.”

They’d talked about this. James wasn’t supposed to speak to Kreacher - Kreacher wouldn’t like that.

So Regulus introduced James. “This is James Potter. He will be joining us for dinner tonight.”

Kreacher did a small nod, stepping aside to let them in. “Kreacher will take your coats, Master Regulus.”

“Of course.” Regulus tried to breathe a little easier. It helped that James was doing everything Regulus had asked - not looking directly at Kreacher, not smiling in thanks, not addressing him directly. He knew it was probably hard for him. James always talked to the house-elves at school. He knew most of them by name.

“Regulus.”

Kreacher left as Walburga came in. Regulus hated that he felt a little relieved at seeing her.

“Maman,” he greeted.

Walburga gave him a polite smiles, turning to look at James. “Mr. Potter.”

“Madame.” James gave her a polite smile in return.

Regulus had given him so many instructions for tonight. James had been nice about it - had practiced with him, even. Call her Madame, not Mrs. Black. Call my father by sir. Don’t interact with Kreacher. Be confident, but not arrogant. Have pride but don’t tell them why. Don’t compliment the food, compliment the house. They might be rude, it’s okay to be passive aggressive. Call me by my full name while we’re there, no endearments or nicknames.

“I don’t believe we’ve formally met,” Walburga said.

James kept his smile. “I hadn’t yet had the honor, no.”

Don’t shake her hand, Regulus thought silently. Don’t make the first move.

James didn’t reach out to shake her hand.

Sharp eyes took in James’s outfit - it was perfect, Regulus knew it was perfect. James had picked it out, but Regulus had gone over it. Changed it once, had James try that on. And then he’d changed it back, because the first one had looked better.

“I suppose now you have,” she finally replied. Her eyes moved back to Regulus. “Your father is on his way down. I suppose you remember where the dining room is.”

“Of course, Maman.” Regulus followed her to the formal dining room, walking through familiar halls.

It was oppressive, he thought. Intimidating. All wealth and power and not a speck of humanity to be found.

Orion arrived just as they did, and didn’t say anything at all. He gave a glance at Regulus before sitting down.

He didn’t acknowledge James’s presence.

James pulled Regulus’s chair out for him, but didn’t kiss him on the cheek the way he usually would.

“Thank you,” Regulus said softly.

James’s smile shifted into something warmer. “You’re welcome.”

Regulus noted Walburga tracked the interaction with a frown.

“Kreacher will bring out the first course,” she told them. No sooner had she said it than it had happened. Regulus thanked the house-elf as he always had, thankful when James didn’t even glance down.

He really was doing very well at this.

“I hope it’s to your liking,” Walburga told James. She sounded like she was being sincere, but Regulus knew the edge in her voice. This was a test. “It’s one of Regulus’s favorites.”

James gave a slight nod. “I’m sure it is. Regulus has always spoken highly of his time here.”

That wasn’t true, and everyone knew it. But Regulus had instructed James to pretend.

“As he should,” Orion spoke up for the first time. His eyes focused on Regulus, intense and with that hint of disappointment Regulus had grown up receiving. “He was given everything a child could wish for.”

Except love, Regulus thought. And safety. And acceptance.

“You must have been very generous parents,” James agreed. “I remember he always started school with supplies of the highest quality.”

“I’m sure you weren’t struggling either,” Walburga responded smoothly. “Considering who your parents are.”

James’s smile didn’t waver. “You would be correct. I’ve never known what it’s like to struggle financially.”

“No,” Walburga agreed. Her eyes lingered on James’s skin. “You would have had other struggles.”

It was very obviously about the color of his skin, and Regulus felt his heart drop.

This had been a terrible idea.

“I did,” James told her. His hands were folded carefully in his lap, but Regulus could see how hard they were gripping. “Not as a young child. Truly pureblooded families have no interest in wasting their time on matters such as race, as I’m sure you know. But in muggle society, see, they believe the color of your skin has an impact on your importance as a person, and some of those beliefs did unfortunately infiltrate certain wizarding bloodlines.”

Oh.

Oh, okay. Regulus had not seen that coming.

He wasn’t sure if he should be proud of James or deeply concerned with how genuine he’d made that sound.

Walburga seemed surprised. “You don’t believe your genetic abnormalities to be shortcomings?”

“Oh, of course,” James agreed. “My vision is most certainly a shortcoming. It’s most troublesome.”

That wasn’t what she’d meant. But Regulus knew - and so did she - that pointing that out would be blatantly impolite.

“I see that you’ve chosen him for financial security, then,” Orion said, giving James a look that said in no uncertain terms that he thought James was a bit stupid.

“James has many wonderful qualities,” Regulus responded evenly. “Beyond finances, which I have no need of.”

“Are you working?” Walburga asked.

“No,” James said politely. “I have begun to take responsibility over a few family projects, and that keeps me quite busy.”

It was exactly what Regulus had taught him to say.

Walburga’s smile faltered for a moment, and then she glanced at James’s plate. “Have you lost your appetite, Mr. Potter?”

Oh, this was a very bad idea. Very bad. They should leave.

“Not at all,” James said smoothly. “I was just caught up in the conversation.” He picked up his knife and fork - the correct one, thankfully - and started on his plate, taking small bites.

Regulus watched his mother watch James, catching the disappointed flicker in her eyes. She’d been hoping James would mess up.

“Your English is very good,” Walburga commented. “I imagine it was not your first language.”

He was going to need to buy James so much chocolate after this.

“No, that was Hindi.” James didn’t appear upset, but Regulus knew he was. “Then Spanish, English, Korean, and French.”

“French last?” She asked.

“Of course,” James replied. “Given that French is not as commonly spoken, my parents and I agreed that it wasn’t a priority.”

“Commonly spoken languages,” Walburga replied, sharp. “Are for common people.”

James didn’t flinch. “I see.”

“Do you?” Walburga’s eyes flickered to Regulus. “Or are you going to continue charading as someone worthy of my son?”

“Maman,” Regulus responded. “James is worthy. He has done nothing to offend you -”

“His existence offends us,” Orion interrupted. He gave James a scathing look. “He is an aberration, Regulus. A stain on pureblood culture.”

“It’s okay, darling,” Walburga soothed. “We’ll find you someone suitable. We can even find a male candidate, if that’s what you truly desire.”

Regulus felt sick. “What?”

“We’ve indulged you,” Walburga replied. “We’ve allowed it into our house, and engaged in polite conversation. I don’t see how anything else is expected of us. Come back home, darling, and let us fix this for you.”

“Fix..” Regulus trailed off. “Fix what? My relationship?”

“Fix everything.” Walburga smiled, and maybe it was supposed to look kind but it really, really didn’t. “We’ll reinstate you in the family business. We’ll reintroduce you to polite society. Everyone will understand a rebellious phase, dear, it happens. And we will locate an appropriate partner of equal standing for you to have intellectual conversations with.”

Regulus took a deep breath. “This was a mistake.”

“It certainly was,” Orion agreed. “You’ve tainted our table with this worthless -”

“No.” Regulus cut him off. “No, you do not get to call him things.” He stood up, taking a deep breath. “We are only here because he agreed to give you a chance to be decent human beings. He has been nothing but polite, and you have been terribly rude, and there is nothing wrong with him. He is smart and kind and wonderful.” He turned to James, meeting his eyes. “And I am so sorry for bringing you here and letting them treat you so terribly.”

“Regulus, think about this, dear,” Walburga tried. “I know this seems like a good choice now, with the excitement of young love. But he will leave, and -”

“I’m not leaving.” James spoke up, meeting Walburga’s eyes. “Ever. I’m here. Your son has full control of whether our relationship ends or not.”

“And it’s not,” Regulus clarified. He took James’s hand. “We’re leaving. Happy Christmas. I don’t think I’ll be back again.”

He led James back down the hallways, taking their jackets from Kreacher and going outside. He made it four houses down before James pulled them to a stop.

“Regulus,” he said softly. “Hey. Put your jacket on, yeah?”

Regulus shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “That was so stupid. What did I think was going to happen? That they would somehow magically be decent people? That they would accept you? Of course they didn’t accept you!”

“I - please just put on your jacket.”

The tone caught Regulus’s attention, setting off alarm bells, and he turned to look at James’ expression.

It was subtle - James was good at hiding when he was upset. But it was there, in the tightness of his smile and the caution in his eyes.

Regulus ran through what he’d said, panicking a little. “James, I didn’t mean - I just meant that they never accept anyone. I didn’t mean that there’s anything wrong with you. There isn’t, James. You’re perfect.”

James nodded but didn’t meet his eyes. “Reg, jacket. It’s freezing.”

“I don’t care.” Regulus lifted James’s chin, urging him to meet his eyes. “Jamie. I’m sorry. That was awful, they were awful, and I was awful to let them be awful. There’s nothing wrong with you. I need you to know that.”

James looked uncertain, and Regulus hated that. “Okay.”

Regulus didn’t move. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” James protested. He took a deep breath. “I don’t know. Nothing, really. I just - it’s been a while since I had to deal with that. And - I don’t know.” James pressed his lips together, swallowing hard. “I don’t know, Reg, I know that none of it was true and they were just being cruel but it’s - I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no.” Regulus felt his heart break, gently brushing away the tears that had started falling. “It’s okay. That was a lot, and you handled everything perfectly, James.”

Hazel eyes, bright with tears, flickered with hope. “Really?”

“I promise,” Regulus assured him. He pulled James into a hug, wrapping him up tight. “I promise. You’re perfect, mon soleil. You’re perfect and I love you and I am so sorry I let them say those awful things to you.”

“It’s okay,” James mumbled.

Regulus shook his head but didn’t let go yet. “No, it’s not. I don’t agree with my parents. The things they implied and said to you were unforgivable, and so is my tolerance of it. I won’t let it happen again, Jamie. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re forgiven,” James told him. He pressed a kiss to Regulus’s shoulder. “You’re always forgiven. And you did stop them.”

“Not soon enough,” Regulus replied. “I never should have gone back in there.”

“Did it help?”

Regulus frowned. “What?”

James pulled back a bit to look at him. “Did it help? Do you feel better about leaving?”

“Is that why you agreed?” Regulus asked, melting from the amount of affection pouring through him. “So that I would feel better about my choice?”

“It certainly wasn’t to hear their opinions on my culture,” James replied, managing a small smile. “So?”

“It helped,” Regulus admitted. “Because that was awful, and I know I did the right thing.” He pulled James into another hug. “Thank you. I can’t - you mean so much to me. Thank you for doing this.”

James held him just as tightly. “I’ll do anything for you. Absolutely anything, Reg. You deserve that.”

He pulled back. “Now please, put on your jacket.”

[anjee0]

Merry Christmas

Female!reader x Eminem (Feel free to put in your own oc insert as well)

Description - Y/n and Marshall have Hailie, Alaina and Stevie over for Christmas.

Warnings - Pregnancy (not reader!)

Y/n opened her eyes as warm rays of sunshine peaked through the curtains and basked the room in a radiant, golden glow. She sat up in bed and smiled lazily at Marshall, who was sleeping peacefully next to her. Y/n could feel a buzz in the air— a joyous buzz. An atmosphere that was glowing with an exciting ambience. She sighed happily knowing that this was a feeling only Christmas could bring. She gently peppered soft kisses on Marshall’s face, making him wake up. He looked up at her and smiled as he wrapped his arms around Y/n and brought her close to him. 

“Merry Christmas, baby.” Y/n whispered into his neck.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” He whispered back as he ran his hand through her hair.

“We need to get up. The kids will be here soon.”

In a few hours time, Hailie, Alaina and Stevie would arrive to celebrate with them. It was also Hailie's birthday, which brought more excitement for today. However, considering the fun events of today, Y/n felt on edge. The thought of meeting Marshall's daughters made nervousness bubble up in her stomach rapidly.

“Okay, I'll get up, but let me hold you for a little longer.” Marshall murmured into her hair. 

Marshall could sense the anxiousness right through Y/n's voice so he tried his best to comfort her. He drew lazy shapes on her back as he gently caressed her hair.

“I know you're nervous,” he said. “But don't be. You'll be fine. I know they'll like you.”

“But what they don't?” She responded, as she looked up at him.

“Well, in that impossible scenario, I'll just have to prove to them how amazing you are.”

“But what if they don't like the gifts we got them?”

“Well, I assure you they'll like them because we both picked the presents put for them."

"Okay then..."

Marshall chuckled and placed a tender kiss on Y/n's lips. He smiled softly as his blue eyes reached hers, reassuring her that she had nothing to be scared about.

“I'll try not to worry then.” Y/n said. She felt safe with Marshall and knew she could trust him greatly.

“Good, come on, let's get up.”

They eventually got out of bed and started to clean the house. Y/n got started on dinner and small side dishes. She found herself running around the kitchen, sweat dripping down her neck, as she located ingredients, measured them precisely, and put them together.

“Babe, are you alright?” Marshall asked.

“Yeah, I'm fine, I just…” Y/n's sentence trailed off. “Trying to finish off some of the cooking we didn't get to finish last night.”

“Hey, you're cooking great and you know it. Don't stress.”

“Thanks babe, I just want it to be perfect.”

“It will be. Don't worry.”

They spent the rest of the morning tidying up the living room, kitchen, and the bathrooms. They prepared a few guest bedrooms, just in case anyone decided to stay the night. Every second was spent making sure everything was spotless with not a single particle of dust flying anywhere.

After cooking and cleaning, they decided to go change their clothes into something more appropriate than their scruffy pajamas. Y/n was rummaging through her closet, trying to find the perfect outfit for the occasion.

She pulled out two dresses from her closest and examined them closely, thinking carefully about which one she should wear. They were both flowy and decorated with flowy designs, making the decision even more difficult.

“Babe, which dress should I wear? This white one with the red designs? Or the red one with the white designs?” Y/n asked, Golding both the dresses up to Marshall.

“Or you could wear this…” He responded as he pulled out two matching Christmas sweaters.

The sweaters were both a cosy white colour with a row of red reindeer prancing in the middle. There were also small details of navy blue around the reindeer, making it all the more festive. 

“You got us matching sweaters?” Y/n asked, her heart melting at the action.

“Of course. They'll look perfect on us. And then I also got us these matching brown pants. They're gonna really bring it together.”

“Well look at you being a fashion guru.” Y/n captured his lips in a loving kiss before she rested her forehead on his. “But seriously, thank you babe. I love it.”

They both got changed into their clothes, the cosiness of the sweater embracing them in a warm and comforting hug. The couple looked perfect in their matching Christmas sweaters. Y/n immediately took a few cute mirror selfies of them together with Marshall wrapping his arms around her.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang as a cheery chime echoed through the house. Y/n swallowed down the nervousness that was already conjuring up in her body. Marshall reassuringly placed a soft kiss on her forehead, letting her know she had nothing to be scared about.

They both opened the front door and were immediately met by the three with a cheery smile on their faces. 

“Merry Christmas!” They all said.

“Merry Christmas!” Marshall and Y/n said back. “And happy birthday Hailie.” Marshall said, pulling Hailie in for a hug.

“You must be Y/n! I'm Hailie.” She greeted her with a welcoming smile on her face.

“I've heard a lot about you. It's so nice to finally meet you. And uh, happy birthday.” Y/n replied.

“Thank you, hopefully dad only told you the good things!” Hailie teased. “But I'm so glad I can meet you now.”

“Hey, Y/n. I'm Alaina.”

“And I'm Stevie.”

“Hey guys, nice to meet you.” Y/n replied.

“Alright, why don't we start with gifts?” Marshall said.

They all gathered around the sofa and got settled in as they made themselves comfortable. Y/n nervously placed her hand in Marshall's and held it as her thumb caressed his knuckles. He squeezed her hand slightly in reassurance, letting her know that he'd be next to her through the whole thing.

They first started with Hailie's birthday gifts. She received an eyeshadow palette from Stevie and a pair of new shoes from Alaina.

“This is amazing! Thank you so much guys.” Hailie said gratefully.

“Alright, this is the gift me and Y/n picked out.” Marshall said, handing a box wrapped in festive paper with a red ribbon.

Y/n waited in anticipation as Hailie undid the ribbon, letting it fall off the box. She slowly tore the paper away to reveal a red velvet box. Hailie opened it and was shocked to see a pair of diamond earrings.

“Oh my gosh!” She said, her eyes fully wide. “This looks amazing! How much was this?”

“Don't worry about the price. And actually, it was Y/n’s selection.” Marshall replied proudly as he smiled at Y/n.

Y/n nodded nervously and gave a shy smile in response.

“Y/n, this is amazing. Thank you so much. Truly.” Hailie said, her voice mounted with happiness.

“I'm glad you like it.” Y/n replied.

They then proceeded to open Christmas gifts. To Y/n's relief, everyone liked the gifts that they received from her and Marshall. Hailie got a bedazzled butterfly clip, Alaina got a set of lip glosses and Stevie got a collection of rings. 

“These are so sick!” Stevie said as she wiggled her fingers that were decorated in unique rings. “Thank you Marshall and Y/n.”

After the gift opening, bits of wrapping paper were scattered all over the floor, making a complete mess. Marshall sighed and nodded as he looked down on the floor.

“Alright, you kids set up the table. Me and Y/n will clean this up.” He said.

The three of them collectively agreed and made their way to the dining room to start setting up the table, leaving Y/n and Marshall by themselves.

“I think they like you.” Marshall said as he picked up the wrapping paper off the floor.

“Are you sure?” Y/n asked as she scrunched up the pieces of paper in her hand.

“I'm sure, baby. Hailie really likes those earrings. You've got good taste.”

“Thanks. Hopefully dinner can give me a chance to get to know them better.”

“Yeah, that's a great idea babe.”

After cleaning up and setting up the dinner table, Y/n and Marshall brought out all the food to the table. Hailie, Alaina and Stevie stare in admiration as the couple brought out a delicious looking roast turkey. It sat at the centre of the table, it's golden-brown skin glistening under the warm light. The side dishes were also brought out, including garlic mashed potatoes, salads and a brocoli cheese casserole.

“This looks amazing!” Alaina said. “You guys made this?”

“Mainly Y/n. I helped out too.” Marshall said.

“And by helping out, you probably just handing her the salt.” Stevie teased.

The while table erupted into a fit of light hearted chuckled meanwhile Marshall shook his head and rolled his eyes sarcastically, but deep down he knew the joke was funny.

“Believe it or not, he actually helped me out quite a lot.” Y/n said, patting his shoulder gently.

“Well either way, this food tastes great. Thank you so much.” Hailie said.

The dinner was a perfect opportunity for Y/n to get to know everyone better. The conversation was cheery with little bits of laughter here and there. The whole dinner carried a joyful and cosy atmosphere that lingered with everyone. By the end, Y/n was feeling pretty confident that she would get along with the girls perfectly.

After dinner, everyone settled down on the sofa and decided to put on a Christmas movie. They all decided on Elf— a classic. Marshall held Y/n close and rested his chin on her head as she laid her head on his chest. She felt comfortable against him in an embrace of safety.

“Where's Hailie?” Stevie asked as she looked around.

“I think she went to the bathroom.” Alaina replied.

“Hey, babe. I'm gonna go get some snacks, olay?” Y/n whispered.

“Okay baby. Come back quickly.” Marshall replied softly.

When Y/n entered the kitchen, to her suprise she saw Hailie leaning against the counter and looking down on the floor. She had a weary expression painted on her face, her eyes looked dull as she exhaled softly.

“Hailie, are you okay?” Y/n asked, as she approached her slowly.

“I'm fine.” Hailie replied.

“Is there something you wanna talk about?”

“I'm just feeling a little stressed about the pregnancy. I keep thinking I won't be a good mum.”

“That's a completely normal thing to be going through. Pregnancy can be stressful but you shouldn't worry about being a bad mum.”

“How can you say that?”

“Well if your parents raised you great, I'm sure you can too. And if you ever feel stressed, just let it be known that you have an awesome family who always be willing to listen to you.”

Hailie sighed softly and smiled as her gaze lifted from the floor to Y/n. “Thank you Y/n. I really needed to hear that.”

Hailie unexpectedly pulled Y/n into an embracing hug. It warm and comforting, allowing all of their worries to melt into a pool. 

A few hours later, it was time for the girls to leave. They bid Marshall and Y/n goodbye before they left the house and escaped into the chilly air outside. 

“Y/n, they definitely like you. I told you you had nothing to worry about.” Marshall said.

“Yeah, thank you Marshall. Today was great.” Y/n replied.

Soon after, they were changed out of their clothes and smuggled up in bed, wrapped around in fluffy blankets and tangled in each other's limbs. 

“You know, I head that talk you had with Hailie in the kitchen.” Marshall said as he softly played with Y/n's hair.

“You did?”

“Yeah, and you did a great job reassuring her. Thank you babe.”

“Of course.”

The next few moments, they stared at each other as a ckmfo silence hung in the air. An obvious tension grew between them as heat radiated off of their faces. Marshall leaned in and captured Y/n's lips into a delicate and passionate kiss.

When he pulled away he smiled gently as his gaze softened to a loving stare. His smile was an expre of nothing but love and care.

“I love you.” He said.

Y/n felt a flutter in her heart as she processed the words that came out of his mouth. He had just said that he loved her for the first time in their relationship. Y/n exhaled through her nose softly and gave him a kind smile.

“I love you too.” 

She could see the relief appearing in Marshall's face as she said those 4 words. They ended the night tight and snug in each other's embrace. Their love strong and comforting to each other.

A/N: Merry Christmas to everyone reading this! I really enjoyed writing the 5 weeks of Christmas Joy series, this was so fun to do. Thank you for everyone who read and left a like or a lovely comment. I love you all and enjoy your Christmas! 💗Also, happy birthday Hailie!

[tlirswriting]

[They Colonized Mars, entry 4 // start here]

Venus:

Second planet from the sun, rendered uninhabitable 

Roman goddess of love, beauty, and sex 

> Atlas walks down the steps into Cythera’s, crossing the energy disruption field's threshold — a series of simple devices set up around the perimeter of the club to cancel out the city's artificial gravity — and he feels lighter, nearly weightless, the pressure lifting from his bones. 

> The air is warm and sweet in the hazy basement room, thick with candy-flavored nicotine and THC vapor. A tall, four-armed Venusian dances on a small stage against the far wall for a sparse crowd, glowing pink and glittering in the spotlight as she mouths along to the old 2260s pop hit Acid Rain. 

> The music thumps through Atlas, the beat reverberating up from the floor and settling into his chest, pulsing in his lungs. He unzips his jacket and makes his way to the bar at one side of the room to order two of his usual drinks; something strong and fruity with tiny paper umbrellas in it. 

> “This is what people do,” He says to SaM-B, talking over the bass as he sets one glass on top of it. 

> “I cannot drink; I have no mouth.”

> “That's okay, you just have to stand there, maybe you're… moody, and mysterious, or something. Or maybe you're shy, ‘cause it's your first time coming here.” 

> “And this is normal? I am doing it correctly?” 

> “Sure, yeah.” 

> Atlas leans his elbow on the bar and sips his drink, watching the spots of light spinning across the walls, watching the people — mostly Human — bobbing along in ripples or sitting at tables. Two bored-looking lesbians chat quietly in the same corner Atlas always sees them, but he never caught their names; nor the man in a leather harness with scars across his chest, or the girl with green hair that might have been natural. 

> “This place is usually packed tighter when I come here,” He explains. “Saturday night, people are rubbing against each other, snorting zidge in the bathroom…” 

> “This is fun?” SaM-B asks him.

> “Well, I like it.” 

> He downs the rest of his drink and makes his way to stand by the stage where a handful of people are crowded, staring up at the Venusian; she's ethereally androgynous, shimmering like a mirage, larger than life in her heels and moving like gravity forgot her. She calls herself Majel Stardust. 

> Alcohol works its fingers through Atlas, relaxing his shoulders, easing the knots in his back. He breathes — digs through his wallet for a 1.0 note — reaches out to her, hands touching briefly when she takes it, leaning close enough to smell her perfume and she tucks it into her bra. She's electric, dripping glitter, commanding attention; she's mile-long legs and hands you can't keep track of, she's power and grace, you'd almost believe the blasting music was her own voice. 

> It's all an illusion, but Atlas loves the show, dazzling lights mirrored in rows of bioluminescent spots along his cheekbones and down his arms, only visible when his defenses and inhibitions are lowered. 

> SaM-B holds perfectly still beside him, watching intently, its lights blinking in time with the rhythm. 

> She finishes her set, and disappears behind the curtain as the people cheer. A moment later, she's behind him, a hand lightly brushing his shoulder to spin him around. 

> “Atlas, baby!” Her voice is deep and rich like honey. “It's a Tuesday, what are you doing here?” 

> “Supporting artists,” He jokes as she leads him away towards a table near the back. “What are you doing, stealing me from the other queens?” 

> She laughs. “The next one's Mz. Tuna Piano, that bitch is always late.”

> He hums. “Yeah, she is.” 

> “But honestly, really,” She puts a right hand around his shoulders, and another right hand on his waist. “Talk to me. What are you doing here? You look like the train caught you.” 

> He sighs. “I, uh… I had a weird day at work, I couldn't go straight home. Needed to clear my head.” 

> She gestures to SaM-B after they sit down. “Who's your friend?” 

> “My weird day at work.” He grabs the drink balancing on top of it and takes a sip. “That, and somebody died again.” 

> “You gotta get out of there, honey; they'll eat you alive.” 

> “I will, soon, it's just…” He shakes his head. “And go where, y'know?” 

> “Here, maybe.” She sucks on a thin metal tube and blows a ring of pomegranate-scented clouds. “Anywhere. Doesn't matter much, does it?” 

> Atlas chuckles. “I'm not built for entertaining.” 

> “Some people like Martians, with your big brown eyes. You could grow your hair out…” 

> “No, really, I can't.” 

> She studies him for a moment, something knowing in her compound eyes. 

> “I'm gonna get out,” He repeats. “I have plans, I just need a little more time.” 

> She hums. “You want a hit?” She offers. “I hear sometimes humans get a kick out of CO2, makes ‘em dizzy — wonder what it'll do to you.” 

> “No, thanks; I'd feel kinda bad taking your air.” 

> “Suit yourself.” 

> He watches her curl her mandibles around her electric cigar, draw in a deep breath, and beckon him closer — he obeys, leaning in, and she tilts his chin up to press her mouth to his and blow; he breathes in concentrated oxygen, carbon filtered by her lungs, fresh and crisp, artificially sweet. He pulls away and giggles.

> “There,” She says. “You don't have to be guilty about it.” 

> SaM-B emits a high-pitched whine. 

> “Poor thing,” Majel chuckles. “Is it sentient?” 

> Atlas begins answering, “I'm pretty sure, yeah—” 

> “I wish I was you,” It beeps. 

> “I get that a lot, honey.” 

> He sips his drink and thinks about what it meant by that. 

> The night rolls on, soft around the edges, pleasantly dark and spinning like galaxies. 

>>

> Walking home, still buzzing, Atlas leans on SaM-B as they go — his body feels leaden and too-loose, metal pins digging into his flesh to keep his legs on straight — and he slurs: “D'you understand why I took you here?” 

> It beeps, “I think so.” 

> “My point…” The words swim in his head and roll clumsily off his tongue. “With all of this, is that there's more to being alive than your programming.” 

> They can see Mars’ two moons meeting in the middle of the sky through the top of the dome, dancing among silver ribbons of noctilucent clouds. 

> “I want a name,” It says.

> “Yeah?” 

> “I think Selene would be nice.” 

> “Yeah, alright.” 

> A beat. “Can I be a girl?” 

> “Sure, why not?” 

> “Thank you, Atlas.” 

> “You don't need my permission.” 

> It’s true, but she needs to hear it.

> They wobble along the street under holographic advertisements shimmering in the artificial sky. 

> Atlas vaguely remembers getting on the train — rising up over the streets, city lights glowing trails around him — dozing off, and waking up when the brakes squeal at his stop. 

> Staggering out into the cold air again, he's hit by the wind, particles of sand scratching his face and sticking to the corners of his eyes. The storm is habitable inside the dome (outside, the winds are harsher, kicking up dust clouds miles high) but unpleasant enough that he quickens his pace the rest of the way home. 

[trippinsorrows]

No cause I just pictured Lina picking the lock on Roman's office when he's on a meeting or something 😫 and what if the first time she's done it and he's so confused because he was so sure he locked the door, only for babygirl to march her cute self in the room cause she kinda needs to see daddy NOW 🤭

quickly hitting mute and turning off the video on his laptop, roman's confused gaze is on his two year-old daughter. "lina?"

roman is convinced that his age might finally be getting to him because there's no way in hell that he didn't lock that door. it's become a bit of a necessity since the girls started walking. crawling even, and not even leya as much as her older, more inquisitive sister, lina.

a sister that's heading in his direction with that mischievous smile on her adorable face and her blanket, that she has dragging on the floor, in the other hand.

"hi, daddy." he's briefly distracted by the pride that overcomes him every time he hears that word come from either of their mouths.

daddy

"hi, baby." lina is already climbing her way onto his lap, roman careful that her blanket doesn't trip her up. "what are you doing here?"

her answer is accompanied by a wide smile up at him and a giggle that reminds him so much of solana "sleep by daddy!"

roman chuckles, hand supporting her back as she moves to stand up on his lap. she's always so damn mobile. "you wanna sleep by me?" she doesn't answer, too busy standing and looking around his office, probably trying to find something else to scale. "daddy's working, lina."

out the corner of his eye, he can see chat bubble popping up asking where he went or is. oh well. that's why he has the twins, mateo, and dwayne present for said meeting. they can handle shit for a few minutes.

"no work!" her angry protest is accompanied by her stomping her feet onto his legs, forcing her to lose her balance and fall onto his lap. for a moment he's ready to make sure she's alright only for her to laugh, stand up and intentionally fall on this second round. her laughter increases.

shaking his head, smile on his face, he says more to himself than her, "you're gonna be the one to stress daddy out, aren't you?"

her answer is to simply giggle again. roman takes a deep breath, realizing she has no intentions on leaving, something that he'll work around with. but, before he can do that, he takes her in his arms, walking them over to the door that's for sure unlocked.

but just out of pure chance, something on the ground catches his attention. purple and sparkly. leaning down, roman picks up the bobby pin. lina instantly reaching to grab it from him, face scrunched up in determination, thus allowing roman puts two and two together.

eyes narrowed playfully in her direction as he allows her to take the item, he watches her stick it in back her hair. "you picked the lock, didn't you?"

no answer is provided, just more movement as she continues to try to climb up his body. the smile on his face is something of pride and amusement.

yeah, definitely the one to stress him out.

[magnoliasandarson]

ice and stone, deadweight redux

In an odd sort of self-punishing way, Jason Todd liked to visit his own grave.

When he first "came back" he had half-crawled back to the unforgiving stone and thrown up, hysterically panicking when his mind told him it was dirt leaving his lips. He had wept and screamed until his voice gave out, trapped in a hellish loop of warring phantom sensations. One second, he was burning alive- the next, suffocating on icy mud.

But that was then, and this is now.

Now, he had once again been unable to keep his cool at a Wayne family function. Now, he had shattered an expensive-looking crystal glass in his fist and stormed out of the formal dining room. Now, he was a monster to them again. Merry-fuckin-Christmas.

So, here he sat, perched six feet over where his corpse once lay, and mourned the boy that should exist instead of him.

It was oddly festive in the cemetery. Blood-red poinsettias and fragrant garlands adorned every other monument, with little LED candles glimmering here and there. The rubble of Sheila Haywood's marble gravestone sparkled in the reflection of bright city lights—like twinkling stars shining accusingly over at him. Sue him, but Jason had taken a crowbar to her marker almost immediately after arriving in Gotham.

He stared at the epitaph: Rest in Peace. There was crystal from his glass still embedded in his palm, glittering like diamonds amidst the rivulets of blood leaving his palm. His eyes followed the journey of the shimmering scarlet over his thigh and down to the powdery snow under him.

He didn't really remember crawling out. The pits had taken away the brunt of the scars, but there were still white lines traced into the tan skin of his hands. He didn't care to think about how deep the scarring must have been for it to stay.

Jason found himself trapped, staring at the red flowers blooming beneath him. Some part of him wondered if the blood would find its way to the wreckage of his casket, to the gore he'd left in his wake so long ago. Logically, he figured Dick would wander over soon, once he got done yelling at Bruce and arguing with Damian.

He never guessed it would be Tim.

"Hey," Jason would never in a million years admit it, but he was privately a little pleased that Tim had come looking for him. He had fucked up so spectacularly with his brother, had given him every reason to despise him- to want him dead, and yet, here Tim was. Awkwardly standing just on the other side of Jason's headstone, face pinched like he'd eaten an especially sour lemon.

Jason tilted his head up, something in his neck cracking as his chin left his sternum, "Sup, Timbit."

Tim looked genuinely pained as he stepped around the grave and lowered himself to sit a few feet away on the snow, "Y'know, just seeing the sights, festive lights, my brother bleeding out in snow- the holiday favorites."

Jason barked a laugh as something in his shoulders loosened, the kid was a bit of a bastard but he was funny, "You get forced to check on the charity case?"

"Drew the short straw, yeah," Tim's face was pale, save for the red coloring his nose, "do you need a med kit?"

Jason Peter Todd; Beloved Son and Friend. Jason's lips half formed the words as he read them over again; when the blood started roaring in his ears, he clenched his fist around the shards- the fresh wave of pain grounding him, "This won't kill me."

"That's not what I asked," the vehemence in Tim's words snapped Jason out of his half-daze, electric teal eyes landing on furrowed eyebrows and a stormy gaze, "Jason, are you okay?"

Jason huffed a weak imitation of a laugh, "Is anyone in this family?"

"This isn't about them," Tim immediately countered, a line on his forehead forming. Jason hated himself for it, for making Tim look like that. This was his little brother, a kid, really, and he looked twice his age because he was forced to babysit the family basketcase.

Jason used his non-gory hand to reach into his jacket pocket and take out a cigarette. "Just tired, Tim," he tucked the unlit cigarette between his lips, lighting it up as he muttered, "That's all—just tired."

Tim's face blurred behind a cloud of smoke, for a moment erasing the unlived age from his features, "You should get more sleep."

"Hypocrite," Jason snapped back with no real heat. It was true; he should have been the one telling Tim to sleep.

The smoke cleared between them as Jason took a long, deep drag. Tim looked half apologetic as he almost whispered, "This family's specialty."

Jason scoffed, unable to stop himself from nearly shouting, "You don't need to tell me that," he pointed his cigarette to the ice-glazed stone before them, "I'm not even a Wayne, Mr. CEO Drake-Wayne." It was cruel, it was mean, but Jason couldn't force himself to care.

Tim's face contorted again, coloring up to his ears with old anger and bitterness. Some cruel part of Jason's mind cheered. Finally, the kid was going to be honest. Go on, yell at the boogeyman who hurt you, tell him to go to Hell. Really end the holiday with a bang. The kid took a long, controlled breath, and evenly asked, "Are you okay, Jason?"

Jason grimaced at the bullshit question, pressing his bloody palm into the scarlet snow as he stood, flicking his spent cigarette at Sheila, "Just dead weight, Tim,"

He turned his back to the boy shivering on the snow, "That's all I ever was."