#and then ANOTHER work christmas thing on TUESDAY

[good-wine-and-cheese]

I would love very much to just pause this week and not have monday

[leascorner]

j.b.b. | Secret Santa

Summary: Natasha rigs the Secret Santa because she knows Bucky has a crush on one of his colleagues

Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x colleague!f!reader

Warnings: Use of Y/N and feminine pronoums, a few mentions of food, mention of christmas and gifts, two idiots in love

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: This is the 2nd Xmas OS of the series. My favourite so far. Please do share and like if you enjoyed it, it means a lot!

2024 Christmas Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Secret Santa.

Bucky hated it. He didn’t understand that concept. Buying a gift for someone – needless to say, a coworker that he didn’t know personally – only by obligation. He wondered who had thought of this first and how it had become a so-called tradition. He would have rather like to go to the restaurant, share a drink with the team and be done with it. No, now, he had to choose a piece of paper to select for whom he was going to think about what to give them. Like it wasn’t already pure torture to think about what to buy for his own friends and family.

He had tried his best to leave the room every time Natasha had showed up with her glass filled of all those tiny bits of paper. It was all before she took the matter in her own hands and decided to confront him up right outside his condo at the compound. It was up to three pieces of paper that Natasha had reordered in a particular order after she had showed up at his doorstep.

Bucky could see the ambush from a mile away. She wanted him to pick a particular piece of paper, the one right in front of him. His mind raced through a million of possibilities yet, he couldn’t see why she would act suspiciously. This was just a stupid Secret Santa, one of the too many that would be organized around the world that year. There was no reason for her to trap him. No reason at all…

Still, he couldn’t get himself to pick up the paper directly in front of him. He was smarter than this, he thought; he wouldn’t fall into whatever trap she had lay for him. He rather selected the one piece right at the back; just because it felt like the most rational thing to do. As his hand went to get the paper, he couldn’t help but notice the sly smile that appeared on Natasha’s face. He tried to change his take for the middle piece – the one he had thought she wanted him to select in the first place – but she playfully slapped his hand away.

“You touched it, it’s yours.”

The redhead winked at him as she handed her the tiny bit of paper. A lightning of dread struck Bucky as he understood he had indeed felt into a trap. Unfolding the white paper with his thumbs, his heart missed a beat when he read the name written on it. No doubt now why Natasha had done this on purpose.

It was all because of… Y/N.

Y/N was a Stark employee. She worked on Branner’s team in another wing of the compound and their paths would have never crossed if it wasn’t for Nathasha. Bucky was not sure how it started however, for a while now, the redhead had been teaching a self-defence course every Tuesday night for the Stark Industries employees. Bucky, Steve and Clint had come to help a couple of times and one of those nights was when he was paired with Y/N for an exercise. He spent the night teaching her how to get rid of an attacker if they got their neck from behind.

Afterwards, he seemed to meet her again everywhere: in front of the compound, at Tony’s gala or even at some other Natasha’s courses. They immediately took off. Y/N was doing most of the talking and he liked to hear her voice. They talked mostly about books. She lent him some of the most recent New York Times best sellers and he found for her his favourite’s volumes of poetry – some of the ones that he wouldn’t admit to Steve he had read, back in the days.

Before they met, Bucky had never seen her in the Avengers’ wing, yet Y/N seemed to go more and more to that side of the compound. She went to have a quick break, exchange a book with Bucky or put a cake she had cooked in the kitchen. And this, of course, had not escaped to Natasha’s sharp eyes. Ever since, she had made it her aim of the year to get them together – or at least to get Bucky to confess to Y/N what she thought was his undying love for her.

Bucky could not lie; he indeed found her attractive, both inside and out. Yet, he knew he was just a friend for her. And even if she had the same feeling as him, he was not sure if he wanted to be in a relationship right now… He had a long list of reasons as to why not. He was just accustoming to this life back in the United States. He was gone for long periods of times, working with the Shield on breaking down Hydra. And most importantly, he was risking his life for a living.

He sighed and crumpled the paper in between his fingers, conceding that Natasha had won and that now, he just had to find a gift for Y/N.

A week before the Stark Industries Christmas party – the event at which they would exchange gifts, Bucky was still thinking about what he would buy for Y/N. He had already spent all his free time looking for the perfect gift, but nothing seemed good enough for her. The first thing he had thought about was books. He knew she would always like one however, he didn’t want to buy her some random books. No… he was looking for something a bit more personal. Something that would put stars in her eyes and that would show her how much he appreciated her. Even only as a friend.

Only one week to go before the party and he started to feel a bit panicked. He had even considered asking Natasha for help – this was how stressed he was. However, he quickly made up his mind as he knew she would have liked that a little too much and she would have never let him live it down.

So, when he woke up that morning, he had decided that today was the day. He would finish that report for Steve, and he would search all the Internet for a gift. He would not leave his desk until he had found something.

Three hours later, a headache was slowly crawling right behind the bone of his forehead, and he couldn’t think straight anymore. When he looked up from his laptop screen, he realized he had skipped lunch and that his stomach was rumbling. He would take a break and when he would get back, he would definitely decide on what to buy.

Arriving at the Avengers compound’s kitchen to pick up something to eat, Bucky stopped on the doorstep. Y/N was facing back, making herself what Bucky guessed was a tea. Ever since he randomly took the paper with her name, he had tried to avoid her. Not that it was hard, she was locked in one of Banner’s lab most of the time these days and he was also busy working with Steve on the mission they planned early in the next year. It was not that he did not want to see her. He just felt like anyone could see on his face that he was literally petrified by the idea of offering her something that she wouldn’t like. And he also was pretty sure he couldn’t keep a personal secret even to save his life.

Now that she was slowly turning to the other side, he had no other way than to speak to her. He also knew it would be suspicious if he continued avoiding her for too long.

“Hey Y/N,” he said before going straight to the fridge. Too busy examining its content, he didn’t realise she didn’t respond and only look back to her when she let out a cry, startled to see him there. She had her earphones on that she was now taking off after the original surprise of seeing him.

“Sorry, I hadn’t realised,” he stuttered while pointing to his own ears. He mentally faced palm himself for acting like an idiot. He hadn’t realized that she was wearing workout clothes and probably was just back from a run around the block, just like she did sometimes.

“No worries,” she smiled, “I know I’m not supposed to be here, I’m just picking up a tea and I’ll be gone.”

He waved it off; none of them minded that she used the kitchen – it was made to be used after all. “Good run?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “Wouldn’t run a marathon, but it clears your head, you know?” Bucky didn’t know, but he could imagine the feeling, his own demons always pretty much present in his own head. They stayed silent for a bit, each of them trying to find a subject for discussion.

Eventually, the fridge beeped loudly, complaining its door had been opened for too long. Bucky leaned forwards to grab some random ingredients to make himself a sandwich while Y/N grabbed her cup of tea and the Tupperware in front of her before making her way out.

“Hey Bucky,” Y/N said just as she was about to leave the kitchen. “I know that we are not supposed to tell who we got for the secret Santa and everything… but would you like to go to the city this weekend? I’ve got some ideas, and I could really help a man’s opinion.” Bucky’s lack of respond made her continue: “I mean, if you’d like. And I could always help you pick up a gift for your Secret Santa as well.” Her cheeks heated up as she realized what she had implied so she was fast to mumble: “If you haven’t already, of course.”

Through he knew this wasn’t a good idea – how could he buy her a gift while she was here – Bucky did the only thing he could do right now – he nodded.

It went without saying that Bucky did not find a gift for Y/N that afternoon. Instead, he spent it imagining the worst scenario about their trip to the city. He couldn’t believe he had accepted and while he thought of excuses not to go, he agreed that it would be a little too suspicious. Once again, he could only resign himself to going on with the flow. After all, it could be a good thing, who else better than Y/N could tell him what she would like…

This was how he ended up picking up Y/N on an early Saturday morning and driving to the city. She had suggested going to a mall and while the idea to visit one on the last weekend before Christmas was not very appealing, he still didn’t have any idea of what he would buy for her. So, he could only agree.

Y/N took advantage of the drive to go through a playlist of the 2000’s songs and educate Bucky on all the most iconic songs. Obviously, Bucky didn’t know any of them, but they had a good laugh when he pointed out a couple of ambiguous lyrics and Y/N realized what they actually meant for the first time.

“Alright so for whom are you looking for?” Bucky asked after they entered the mall. Y/N looked back to him with a startled expression, as if she didn’t expect to have to tell him it seems. “I can keep a secret,” he assured her in return, and she shook her head with a smile.

“Let’s say… My secret Santa is a man,” Bucky nodded, he did know that much, “In his late twenties. Not fond of technologies. Amateur of arts. Doesn’t like attention. Dresses casual, more practical than fashion.”

He laughed, imaging she was talking about Steve and his infamous combination of Jean-T-shirt-Jacket. “Any gift ideas you were thinking of?”

“I was thinking about an accessory. Not something cheap though. An accessory that would go with everything, be of good quality and last a lifetime. Something…” she thought, “Timeless. You know… like a belt or else,” she shrugged.

Bucky nodded, a serious look on his face. He had heard a small weakness in her voice as she was explaining what she was looking for. She was anxious about picking this gift. She wanted to select the right thing. She wanted this present to be impactful. And he was going to help her figuring it out.

“I think the best option is to have a look at what we have here and then we can take it from there. What do you think?”

Y/N nodded, and they happily made their way through the mall. Thankfully, there weren’t too many people at this early time in the morning. They did a couple of menswear shops, asking the sales assistant for advice and inspecting whatever they were suggesting. None of them found something promising.

After the sixth shop, Y/N seemed on the verge of giving up, while Bucky had made it his mission to help her find something. The truth was, if she found something, he was hoping she would forget they were also here for him to find a gift. So, Bucky bribed her by promising her a sandwich before he entered the seventh store.

This one was a vintage store, not a thrift store but a store proposing clothes and accessories inspired by second half of the twentieth century. Y/N went on to ask they showed them the belts they had. The saleswoman happily obliged and got back to them with a dozen of accessories. They ruled out the cowboys’ ones and were left with only four. All black or navy blue. All tanned leather. They would all go with a casual jean or a more formal outfit. Their differences resided only in the details. A most subtle buckle. A few inches larger. A different seam. A different texture.

Y/N stared at them frowning, a small wrinkle in between her brow. Even now, she wasn’t sure which one to pick out. If she was listening to herself, she would probably buy them all. One never had too many belts, did they? Bucky detailed the expression on her face and could help to think she looked cute.

“If this is for the person I think it is,” he didn’t want to say Steve, even if he had no doubt it was him. After all this was supposed to be a secret, “I would go for this one.”

“What about this one?” Y/N pointed out the navy one.

“I personally like it better, but I don’t think he would.”

“You’re sure?” Y/N asked, still chewing on her lower lip.

“One hundred percent,” Bucky acquiesced.

Y/N took all four belts and went to the cashier to pay. Bucky listened from one ear as Y/N and the saleswoman chitchat for a bit. He had a look about what other clothes they had in display and made a mental note to go back sometimes for a bit of shopping for himself.

A couple of minutes later, Y/N was back at her side with a bag containing her gift in a nice white wrapping.

“Thank you so much for your help!”

Y/N gave Bucky a hug with one arm – the one that wasn’t holding the bag – and she seemed to put all her gratitude. When she pulled back, the line between her eyebrows had disappeared and she looked relived, totally pleased with herself.

“Lunch?” Bucky asked.

Just like he had promised, they got a sandwich, a lemonade and sat for a bit. They talked for a while; and for once, about something other than books. They discussed work and somewhat bet on whom was going to offer a gift to whom. When they lifted their head from their sandwich – or their lack of – to be precise, the mall was now teeming with people doing their last-minute shopping. Y/N grimaced and stated her dislike of the crowd, to which Bucky could only agree. How would she be happy to get home after they were done. Bucky then understood under the lines that she had indeed not forget about helping him find a gift for his own Secret Santa.

“So, now,” she talked as she brushed her hands on her pants after having thrown away their sandwiches packaging.  “What about you? What are we looking for?”

“I have no idea,” instead of lying, he had decided to be honest at least. “Not that I don’t know the person, I just… don’t know what to get them.”

“Man, woman?”

Bucky was grateful she did not ask him directly who it was. “Woman,” he indicated.

Thinking, Y/N had a look around her as if the shops around were going to give her the solution to all her problems.

“Books?” She suggested, looking back at him. Bucky could help but grimaced; he had already ruled out this option himself. She had already a quite impressive collection of books and while she would like this, it would be way too easy to offer her one.

“Alright, no books then.” She looked around some more, and her eyes landed on a jewellery’s shop. “A jewel, maybe?”

Bucky’s face went blank. He had not thought of this, but it suddenly felt like it was a lot. Who would buy you jewel for a silly Secret Santa? Not a coworker, he was sure of it. It would be too obvious, and besides, he would be offering it in front of everyone. If he were to do that, he was sure Natasha would call him out in front of everyone and he would rather not.

“No worries, doesn’t have to be an engagement ring!” She laughed and God, what a nice sound to hear, he thought. Her playfully making fun of him didn’t ease the restlessness in his stomach though.

“Could be simple earrings or a brooch. What do you think?”

That, Bucky thought was a good idea. Something discreet and that she could wear with everything, yet something that would emphasize her natural beauty. It seems like the best idea he had never had. So, they made their way to the first jewellery’s shop and were quick to make their way out of it. It had too much gold and their jewelleries were too big, too flashy, not her type at all.

They tried a second one where everything seemed so cheap that Y/N wondered out loud if people were really buying from there – once again, Bucky could only agree. They tried a third one in which the salesman immediately took them for a couple. Their cheeks went hot as if they were teenagers caught making out under the bleachers of the gymnasium. After they had denied, they separated to inspect the displays.

Bucky looked over a couple of display cases. When he saw that hair jewellery, he knew it was exactly what he was looking for. A piece discreet, she could use to have their hair up when she was doing experiments in the lab. A jewel she would also be able to wear for a more festive occasion. The only problem was that Y/N was only a couple of meters away and he had no ideas how he would be able to buy it without her knowing it…

“Found something you like?”

Bucky jumped, not having seen Y/N coming back to his level. She had already had a look at the other side of the shop, but nothing had quite caught her eyes. Bucky mumbled something about a pair of earrings he had seen. They were simple, a simple loop, quite small and in a silver. Truth be told, he only thought they were okay, but it wasn’t like he had a lot of options anyway.

Y/N examined them through the Plexiglas and Bucky fiddled with his fingers, obviously anxiously waiting for her opinion.

“Lovely,” was all she said.

“You’re not convinced,” Bucky retorted, a bit bitter.

“No, no,” she shook her head and pointed at her ears. He then realized she didn’t have her ears pierced.  “Couldn’t wear them personally as you can see. But these are really lovely, Bucky. Simple and would still go with everything. It’s a good choice.”

Keen to be done with it, Bucky called after the salesman and let him he would buy those ones. He specifically asked for a receipt ticket, in case the person didn’t like them – after all you never knew, he said. In reality, he was already planning to go back before the party and exchange them.

Y/N flashed him the biggest smile when Bucky had retrieved his purchase, and they made their way back to the car. As a gentleman, Bucky opened the car door for her and his cheeks got as hot as hers when she thanked him.

“Thank you as well, for everything! I don’t know how I would have done without you.” Indeed, he would have never found her gift had she not dragged him in this jewellery’s shop.

“Next time, I suggest we do it earlier in December though. The crowd was a nightmare in there.”

Bucky watched as his coworkers, one-by-one, exchanged gifts. There were the most banalities. Some teas. A book. A new cup. A travel-sized bottle of perfume. It only made him more anxious. His own gift sat on his lap seemed to weight a ton. Was this really a good idea? Finally, he blamed himself for not having bought this Christmas novel that was recommended by all bookshops in town. At least, he would have been sure Y/N would have liked it…

Bucky was so lost in his thought that he did not realize right away that it was now Steve opening the gift he had received. A small black box that looked way too small for a belt to fit in it. He frowned as Steve discovered a small iPod Nano and got up to give Tony a hug.

He instantly searched for Y/N, whom he found sat a couple of seats from him. She caught his eyes as if she had been waiting for him to look up at her. Her lips twist into a strange, somewhat nervous smile that Bucky couldn’t quite comprehend. Frowning, he watched as she took the package in front of her before getting up.

Heart racing, he watched as she made her way to him. Only realising what he thought was really happening as she handed him the white package with a sly smile. He unwrapped the package knew exactly what this was in it. Just to think that he thought he had helped to pick out his own present.

To his surprise, he discovered another belt in the box, the one he had really liked that day.

“I asked the saleswoman to get the one you liked when you weren’t watching,” Y/N explained, cheeks definitely as hot as his.

Bucky had to clear his throat. He felt all kinds of emotions looking at the belt in his hands. It was a lot of them, none that he could identify. It created a storm inside of him, though it wasn’t one of those storms that would destroy everything in its path. No… It was a good storm. One of those that had hotness embracing you, making you fell love. And he simply couldn’t believe it. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry that I- well, I kind of lied to you. I just wanted to get you something- something nice.”

“I know,” he said, taking the package on his lap. “I did too.”

“Me?” Y/N asked as if she couldn’t believe it.

“Yes, you.”

She laughed as she opened it and saw that instead of cute earrings there was a hair jewellery in it. Of course, he didn’t offer her the earrings, she wouldn’t be able to wear them.

She looked back to him with incomprehension in her eyes.

“I went back to exchange it,” Bucky explained, chuckling nervously of this whole situation and coincidence. “Do you like it?”

“Yes! It’s beautiful. Thank you so much!”

Y/N kissed his cheek and hugged him. Her embrace was like the storm actually surrendering him this time. Around them, everyone continued to exchange gifts, but Bucky couldn’t care. They probably had never been this close. His nose was in her hair, and he could smell the perfume of her shampoo. He never wanted to let go.

On the other side of the table, he saw Natasha winked at him. The enormous smile on her face made him think it was indeed not a coincidence that Y/N also draw his name, but at this moment, he couldn’t care less. He had everything he needed.

[hier--soir]

a lover's pinch | seven

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: things get a little messy after returning home. a confrontation sparks the beginning of a new stage in your relationship with joel. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, angst, miscommunication trope, self-doubt, alcohol consumption/hangover, joel is 50 and he texts like it, les mis spoilers???, phantom of the opera spoilers???, jealous!joel, food/eating, hurt/comfort, professor DAD, professor COWBOY, soft emotional smut, unprotected piv sex, cream pie, oral [f!receiving], joel says dadgum cause i think it's so classic him and so cute. word count: 11.1k jesus series masterlist | main masterlist chapter moodboard a/n: merry christmas to all that celebrate. as always, thank you for your patience and kindness. the love for this series is nothing short of mind blowing, and i appreciate you all endlessly. i hope you enjoy this angst and potentially the most flowery + emotional ALP smut yet [if that's even possible]. also rachel i love you i'm sorry. without further ado, the beginning of our descent into The End Times x follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing this is part seven of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three, four, five, six.

Tuesday.

It's nine thirty in the morning and you buy a Coke anyways.

It’s raining heavy outside; fat droplets of water that splatter against the windscreen of your car and dribble down, slipping through the crevice at the top of the bonnet, searching for the engine, for the oil gasket, for somewhere undercover to dry out.

You tuck your legs beneath yourself, sit criss-cross in the driver’s seat, and take small sips of fizzing black sugar. Allow it to moisten your lips, coat your tongue and your teeth in that sickening, viscous way soda always does, before it slips down your throat.

There’s something unearthly about the day, unnerving—it’s Tuesday morning and you’re hungover. A dull ache behind your left eye, a kink in your neck. You check your phone.

Thick, rolling clouds loom across the sky. Occasionally, a flash of lightning, a thrum of thunder. You tear open a packet of peanuts and pluck one out, and then another. Eat until your lips are dry and puckered, and then take another drink. More peanuts then. Salty, sweet, salty, sweet.

It’s all you can stomach as your liver pumps and spasms, still working to cleanse your blood of the night before, spent sprawled on the couch with Trin and Nora.

Wearing sweaters and thick socks, gripping full glasses of wine, and watching Les Misérables. Nora, tears on her cheeks, had sung along with Hugh Jackman—'This innocent who bears my face, who goes to judgement in my place, who am I?’—and you, bleary-eyed and tipsy, had discreetly checked your phone.

You didn’t cry during I Dreamed A Dream but you’re crying for this? Trin rolled her eyes.

He sacrifices his freedom to save that man, Nora whimpered.

You woke up starving and the traffic was slow. At every red light and stop sign your fingers itched against the wheel, desperate to press inside your bag and pull out this little packet. And now, safe in the campus parking lot, you feast. Salty, sweet, salty, sweet. You feel a fleeting moment of pity for people with peanut allergies, and then you check your phone.

Still nothing.

Since you left New York on Monday morning there’s been no sign of life from Joel. No get home safe, no see you on Tuesday; no acknowledgement at all.

You stare dejectedly at the messages you’ve sent him.

First from yesterday afternoon:

Home now. Enjoy your last day in the big apple x

And then from late last night, two bottles of wine deep:

It’s raining and miserable here

Wish I was still in new york

With you

Sitting in your car now, glowering at the blank space where his response should be, you reconcile with the thought that perhaps he wants what happened in New York to stay in New York. Stolen glances and all-too-brief touches in a conference hall, his hand on your wrist at the museum, skin against skin in his hotel room, and in yours—perhaps it was supposed to happen there, not here. The lowering of walls came with a change in location, and maybe that was his intention. But those thoughts don’t ease the sharp twist in your chest when you think of him. Doesn’t take away how much you wish he would give you something – a morsel of communication, even a single word of acknowledgement. For as hard as you try to understand, you can’t forget the look in his eyes when he touched you at the cloisters, the way he breathed your name into your mouth. Sewing the seed of JoelJoelJoel into in the soft folds of your brain, impossible to forget.

You don’t think about his dinner with Rachel. Don’t consider that something may have happened that night, something that changed his mind about you. Something that made him rethink the entire weekend as you slipped into the shower and out the door, leaving him alone in your hotel bed while you headed to the airport.

No. You don’t think about that at all.

When you make it inside, clothes wet and cool from the rain, you shake your hair out like a dog. Let droplets fly across the hall as you make your way into the lecture theatre; a drizzled trail left in your wake.

The room is full when you step inside, but there’s no sign of him yet. You collapse into an empty chair in the front row and wait. The final few students filter in through the door, shaking out umbrellas and wiping their feet. And for another ten minutes you, foolishly, still expect Joel to show up.

It’s only when the door creaks open and an old man walks through, that you let the hopeful feeling rest.

He lays a worn old satchel against the desk and turns to smile at the room.

“Hello,” the stranger smiles, and his jowls quiver as he speaks. “I’m Jerry Dorfman, a Professor from the literature department, and…”

You zone out for a second, eyes darting down to your phone screen. Nothing.

“Oh, and Professor Miller,” Dorfman says, as if he’s just remembered that he shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be standing up there, in his spot. “Is tied up with a family matter. I trust he’ll be back with us later in the week.”

A family matter?

Slick with rain, staring at this stranger stood in Joel’s place, you feel like a kind of newborn. Some fresh lamb, soaked in the blood and amniotic fluids of her mother’s womb, staring through unseeing eyes, hoping to glean some understanding of this moment. This sudden burst of light, this shocking cold after so many weeks of warmth, of sweat and strong hands on your skin, holding you close. But this is Eros; the blacksmith, the limb-loosener, the crusher. A deviation from stoking the flame to the suddenly desperate, grasping loneliness of feeling as though you are standing by a lover’s window, staring helplessly through the glass, and watching them from the outside. Alone.

Dorfman tries and fails to connect his laptop to the projector.

Numb fingers type;

Are you okay? Where are you?

But no response comes.

No, not until later that night, not until you’re tucked beneath the covers of your bed, showered and sleepy, does he finally reach out.

The clock has just ticked past midnight when your phone vibrates.

Hey, I had to stay in the city another day. Just landed at PWM. See you on Thursday.

A hot, jagged feeling swims in your gut as you read the message, and then reread it. Twice, three more times, searching for some hint of familiarity. Some indication that he has been thinking about you as much as you’ve been thinking about him. That the past weekend meant something to him, like it meant to you.

Minutes pass, and when you don’t find what you’re looking for, you fall asleep without responding.

Thursday.

Nora wakes up with a stuffy nose.

This always happens to me, she sniffs. I hate being sick.

The tiles in the kitchen are cold beneath your bare toes and rain smears heavily against the windowpane. You can hear fat blooms of thunder bellowing outside. Nora’s sullen, husky voice paired with the steam rising from your mug are all it takes to convince you to stay home with her.

The two of you spend the day curled on the sofa beneath blankets. You stare at your laptop, a document open on your screen with the title of an essay sitting pretty at the top. The cursor blinks and blinks at you, taunting you, daring you to write something, anything. But Sex and The City is playing on the tv, and Nora is snoring at the other end of the sofa, and you can’t help but watch the minutes tick by on the clock. Listen to Carrie and Miranda argue about Big, and wonder if Joel has even noticed your absence.

Trin gets home from class, and you follow her into the kitchen. Peel and slice oranges and apples and lemons while she tells you about her day. Boil them in sugar with cinnamon and star anise while she complains about an argument she had with her boyfriend. Add red wine and brandy while she tells you that her Dad sent her some money, and she’ll order take out for the three of you.

So together you huddle in the lounge and eat hot Indian food with your hands. Soak pieces of naan in tarka dal and saag paneer and top if off with mulled wine, unphased by the clashing of flavours in your mouths.

And you don’t check your phone, or look at the time, and you don’t complain when Nora asks, with glassy-eyes and spinach in her teeth, if she can put on another musical.

He’s a freak, Trin frowns at the TV.  

He loves her, Nora implores, staring doe-eyed at a masked Gerard Butler.

Nor, Trin scoffs, he put a wedding dress on a mannequin that looks just like her. In his fucking lair, no less. That’s freak behaviour.

He has amazing sideburns though, Nora grins. So he gets a pass.

Your phone vibrates as Erik strokes a passed-out Christine’s face, singing help me make the music of the night.

Careful that Nora won’t notice, you pull it from beneath your thigh.

Where were you today?

You stare at the words for a moment and feel your lips curl into an disbelieving sneer.

“Oh, fuck off,” you mutter, and shove your phone into the crevice between the sofa cushions.

Wednesday.

A week goes by with no word from Joel.

No word from you either.

You stay home every day. Write and read and catch up on work and take Benadryl and sip soup and then you wake one morning, relieved to find that Nora’s cold has finally left your system.

So you tug on jeans, a sweater, and share a pot of coffee in the kitchen. Share quiet conversation with Pete in his shitty old Beamer as he gives you a ride to campus, and walk into Rachel’s lecture with zero expectation that today will be the day you finally see Joel again.

“We understand that Antigone is a victim of her father’s sins,” Rachel explains. “In the wake of patricide, of incest, every one of her actions is seen as a direct consequence.”

“Even her fate to be buried alive was sewn by her father’s unwitting actions,” she pauses, eyes searching the faces across the room, gauging reactions. “And, of course, this concept isn’t unique to Greek mythology. We see it plainly in the Bible, in Exodus; the sins of your father are to be laid upon the children… these themes of ancestral curses, of the inevitability of fate – they are integral to understand when looking at our tragic heroines. We saw it with Medea, we see it with Antigone, with Iphigenia, with Electra. Electra herself said, we are bound to acquiesce—”

An interrupting knock sounds against the door. Rachel’s head swivels around, eyebrows knitted in frustration as she calls for whoever it is to come in.

The door creaks open and her expression lifts. A saccharine smile spreads across her face, shoulders loosening.

“Joel,” she says warmly. “What can I do for you?”

A shiver wracks down your spine, toes curling in your sneakers.

The broad mass of him rests in the doorway. His head peeks past the wood, just a glimpse of his curls, his glasses, visible from where you sit. Your heart thunders in your chest, palms going damp at the prospect of this being the moment you finally see him again.

He speaks a few words in her direction, too quiet to catch, and then he’s taking a step into the room. His hand grips the edge of the door, keeping it open, and he casts a glance out towards the audience. Dark brown and searching, those eyes filter through countless faces until they finally land on yours.

And for a second, he doesn’t say a word. Just gazes out at you, eyebrows pulled together in the middle of his forehead, and then—and then he fucking looks back at Rachel. Your stomach goes hollow when you see the smile on her face. She lazes against the corner of her desk, and it feels like minutes go by as the two of you stare at him. And there’s something about waiting, you think, that feels like torture. That slow, painful build-up of pressure as you sit and stare and prepare yourself to discover who he’s here for. You or her.  

You’re reminded painfully of a Graham Greene quote. A passage from The End of the Affair – one you’d, perhaps foolishly, found romantic when you read it that first time. Chosen words that had warmed your chest and made you feel light, lighter than air; the way only words could do sometimes.

‘Yes, Henry?’ and then ‘You?’ She had always called me ‘you’. ‘Is that you?’ on the telephone, ‘Can you? Will you? Do you?’ so that I imagined, like a fool, for a few minutes at a time, there was only one ‘you’ in the world and that was me.

Now, as you stare at Joel in the mouth of the doorway and memory of that passage sinks its hooks in, you feel only contempt for Greene.

For you had always read that passage imagining yourself as Sarah. And someone else, some misfortunate Maurice Bendrix, had fallen into your lap, and he was the ‘you’. But not you, never you. And it’s that pride which deceives. That pride which lulls us into false senses of security.

Joel says your name then.

Says, “Can I speak with you?” You, you, you.

And it should feel like relief, to hear your name on his lips again. But you catch the way he spares another glance, soft and sympathetic, in Rachel’s direction, and that sickly hurt isn’t abated.

Her face falls, but she smiles at you. Nods her permission for you to leave the room, and only when you’re halfway across the lecture theatre, bag swung over your shoulder, does she continue speaking to the class.

Palm flat against the door, he holds it open for you, making you press against him as you slip out of the room. It clicks shut behind you and he begins to move down the hall, leaving you to follow behind with no explanation. You assume that he’s going to lead you to his office, or anywhere more private than this, but a metre from the door Joel pauses abruptly, turns, and you slam into his chest with a huff.

“Jesus,” you mutter, stumbling a few steps back.

“Where have you been?” he glowers, brows drawn tight and angry over his eyes.

“What?”

“I’ve been busy,” you grit, glaring back. “Where have you been?”

“Busy?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’ve been busy too. Busy teachin’ the classes that you don’t even show up for.”

“I’ve been sick,” you roll your eyes, unable—or perhaps just unwilling—to stray from nastiness, from spite. “My apologies, Professor.” 

“Don’t—” Joel snaps, and flinches as quickly as the word comes out of his mouth, surprised by how harsh it sounds in the air between the two of you. He takes a step closer, voice low now—“Don’t call me that.”

“Fuck, what is your problem?” you huff, eyes widening, exasperated. “I missed two classes, it’s not a big deal.”

“And the silence?” Joel takes a step forward as he says it. Close enough now to see the smudges on the lens of his glasses. Close enough to see the muscle in his jaw twitch. Too close for public; too close for here. “Can’t even text me back, huh? What the hell is goin’ on with you?”

Your body pulls taut at that, hands balling into fists at your sides.

“Oh, you don’t like silence?” you hiss, matching his volume. “You can’t be serious. Joel, I didn’t hear from you for days after New York. Why would I waste my breath when it’s obvious you don’t want to fucking hear from me?”

“It was barely two days,” he shakes his head, shakes off the insinuation, shakes off whatever blame you’re trying to put on him.

“Two days,” you nod, smirking angrily. “Two days after we spent an entire weekend together. Two days after we kissed and fucked and practically went on a date.”

And the word date must elicit something in him. Some minute, man-brain trigger that snaps him to attention and helps him understand the hurt on your face, the tremble in your hands. Because he says your name, voice softening, posture loosening, every bit of his body language screaming out that he wants to step forward and touch you.

And he’s speaking again, voice low, but there’s people coming down the hall, heading your way. Two figures that you can’t make out through the haze of Joel in your immediate vision. So when he reaches out and touches your hand you flinch, jutting your chin over his shoulder. A warning. Don’t do this here.

One of them calls your name and you pause, mouth open. Drag your eyes away from Joel’s features to watch the figures get closer.

“Pete,” you force a smile. “Hey.”

You realise quickly how it must look; your sullen expression, Joel staring down at you with his shoulders hunched. He must understand at the same moment, because he takes a quick step away, folds his hands behind his back.

“Hey,” Pete takes a step closer. He glances warily between you and Joel, confusion colouring his face. “Everything cool?”

Stony faced, Joel looks between the two of you, posture stiffening the longer he stares at Pete. So much larger than him, taller and broader and far more intimidating. But a man with a secret to keep isn’t one to jump quickly at confrontation, so he keeps his mouth shut. Let’s you do the talking.

Ian catches your eye over Pete’s shoulder and offers a sleazy sort of smile. You swallow down a glare and hold Pete’s gaze.

“Everything’s fine,” you lie, taking a step towards them. A step away from Joel. “What’s up, what are you guys doing in this building?”

Pete’s eyebrows pull together, and he cocks his head at you. “Said you needed a ride home today. This morning, remember?”

“This morning,” you repeat, nodding slowly. You raise your hand and pinch the bridge of your nose, thinking quickly, mind a mess. “I, uh… right, look, Pete, I actually forgot I have a meeting with Professor Miller about my final essay this afternoon.”

“Your final…” Pete trails off, frowning. “Isn’t that due in like a month?”

“Yeah,” you say vaguely, and do not look at Joel. “I’ll find a way home later, okay?”

“I mean, sure. I guess,” Pete agrees reluctantly, reaching up to grip the strap of his satchel. “Call me if you need me okay?”

And Joel’s face turns to stone at the insinuation in those words. The idea that Pete could give you anything he couldn’t. That anyone would need to swoop in and save you from him.

The pair of you stand in silence for a moment, eyes trained on Pete and Ian’s retreating backs as they head down the hall. You watch and watch until they turn the corner, disappearing from sight, and only then do you exhale a breath of relief.

You contemplate leaving him there. Turning your back on him and returning to Rachel’s lecture, ignoring his texts and letting this all fade into some painful memory. But when you look at him again—at those big brown eyes that gaze back at you—you know you couldn’t if you tried.  

“You look tired,” he frowns, and it’s not angry anymore. A little sad, maybe.

“I am,” you admit, and wonder if your face betrays how much of a role he plays in that exhaustion.

“Are you hungry?”

You stare for a moment, blinking slow, and then say, “Yeah.”

Joel nods, attempts a crooked smile, and says, “Let me take you to get something to eat.”

It’s silent in Joel’s car, aside from the soft patter of rain against his windows and the dull squeak of his windscreen wipers sliding it away. The truck glides through the winding streets of Biddeford, cruising down the main road and into the left lane of a fast-food drive thru. Orders you a burger, fries, nothing for himself, passing the bag into your lap and then continuing to drive.

The bun is soft beneath your fingers. Grease soaks your skin, and you taste beef, taste onions so soft, so sweet. A crimson dot of ketchup spattered onto your pants; a bright shock of mustard on your tongue. A fry here and there. Joel’s hand, outstretched fingers, sneaking across the centre console to steal one. You shift the paper bag on your lap, tilt the opening so it faces him, easier to access, but he doesn’t take another.

He grips the wheel and asks, “Do you want me to take you home?”

You think about Pete waiting for you at the house. Think about if Ian and that filthy smirk on his face and whether or not he’ll be there too. Think about having to flesh out your excuse, your lie, and finally say, “No.”

Joel keeps driving. You eat until your pants feel tight and the greasy brown bag is crumpled in your fist and he’s pulling his truck off the road and into a short driveway.  

“Full?”

“Very.”

“Good.”

“Is this your house?”

“This is it.” He drags the keys out of the ignition and knocks the door open. It’s not long, barely a second, before he’s pulling yours open with a rough yank and a soft, “Door always sticks on this side.”

A vague sound spills from the back of your throat, and he guides you up a path towards the small home. Single storey, with a large brown door and windows decorating the outward façade. Your immediate thought is that it’s very Joel, but you stop the idea in its tracks. Remind yourself that maybe it isn’t your place to think things like that.

Inside it’s even more silent, even more tense. The two of you stand in the entry way, toeing off damp shoes. Your eyes flit around his front room, but it’s difficult to focus on anything. Too much to look at, too much you want to know, and you find it easier to just look at him.  

“Realised you’d never been here,” Joel murmurs after a while. He shifts awkwardly on his feet, decidedly unsure of what to say as he rests beneath the weight of your stare. “This is the, uh, the livin’ room. Kitchen’s over there.”

When you don’t respond, he clears his throat, ticks his head towards the hallway. “Bathroom is down the hall. Bedroom too.”

You feel your face shift. Deadpan stare turns to surprise, to incredulity, to blatant anger.

“Oh, the bedroom, huh?” you smile, sardonic, cutting. Your throat feels tight. “S’that seriously why you brought me here? Ice me out and then come crawling back when you want something to fuck again?”

“Woah, hey,” his eyebrows shoot up, hands drifting forward like he’s trying to calm a startled animal.

“Don’t,” you hold up a shaking hand, eyes wide and wet suddenly. “Just… don’t touch me right now, okay? What are we doing here, Joel? Seriously.”   

He says your name hard and fast, surprised by how quickly it’s all unravelling, spilling from you in a tidal wave.

And spill it does. The words are wet and watery, a tsunami of pent up emotions pouring from your mouth without permission, without forethought.

“I mean, we haven’t seen each other since New York. And I… I thought being there changed things between us. But maybe I was wrong… and then you pull me out of a lecture, bring me here and say my bedroom is down the hall? Am I just… do you just like having someone to fuck whenever you want? Is that it? Someone at your beck and call?”

Joel repeats your name, sharper this name. “Don’t put fuckin’ words in my mouth.” His face pinches in anger, hands dropping.

“When it’s not convenient you try to shake me off, but when it is—at a bar, or out of town—” you list them off on your fingers, eyes growing wider and wider. “Oh, you want me then?”

“That ain’t fuckin’ true and you know it—”

“Do I?” you scoff.

“I came that night when you texted,” he implores, voice raising, all wild-eyed and pleading. “You were drunk, and textin’ and you needed a ride.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that—”

“You didn’t ask me not too either,” he crosses his arms across his chest. “You wanted me to come. Don’t fuckin’ deny that now.”

You open your mouth but he’s too quick, matching your spill with his own now.

“And as if you’re any better?” he bares his teeth now, voice low. “As if you didn’t find out I was your teacher and keep fuckin’ me just for the thrill of it. As if you actually wanted me, and you weren’t just gettin’ off on chasin’ some forbidden fantasy.”

“I…” you gape at him, unafraid to let the hurt show on your face. “Is that really what you think of me?”

“What the fuck am I supposed to think?” he hisses, exhaustion evident in the way he runs a hand through his curls and sags against the door. “You tellin’ me I should believe that you just want me for what I am? A fifty-year-old teacher who spends his time giving fuckin’ speeches to people that are hardly listenin’? Who goes home to an empty bed? That’s what you want?”

And it deflates you, a little. The wounded expression on his face – the devastating truth in those words, splashed across his expression so plainly for you to see. Disbelief.

“Is that such a crime?” you ask quietly. “To want you… and have it be that simple?”

“You shouldn’t,” he shakes his head. Grimaces. “You shouldn’t want me, I’m—I’m no good for you.”

You swallow. Feel tears hot and sharp behind your eyes.

“Then why do you keep letting me?”

“Jesus,” he exhales, and his hand is on the hem of your shirt, pulling you closer, closer, until you’re pressed against his chest, hands coming up to grip his shoulders and steady yourself. “Because I can’t fuckin’ quit you, alright?”

“Because I don’t just want you when it’s convenient,” his lips curl around the word, disgusted by the insinuation. “Because I think about you all the god damn time and if I can only have you some of the time then I guess I’ll take it. Because if you want some fucked up fantasy, then I’ll play my part if it means I get you, I don’t care—”

You cut him off, lips firm and searing against his. He goes still for a moment, mouth parting with a surprised exhale, warm when you press inside with your tongue. And then warmer, salty; tears on his cheeks, on yours.

“That’s not what this is,” you whimper into his mouth, desperate for him to believe it. “It was never about that, it was about you, Joel. I want you.”

He kisses you again, slow. All of the anger and hurt and frustration pools out of the both of you, spilling from your mouths and into the air. His lips mould over yours and his hands are warm on your waist, your back, holding you tight against his chest. When you sniffle, he pulls back, forehead heavy against yours, and sighs.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps, eyes closed. “I missed you, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for—"

“Where were you?” you interrupt. “What happened in New York?”

He hesitates for a moment, nervous and calculating as he stares you down.

You wilt a little; dejected all over again. Recoil from him and quietly ask, “Why won’t you let me know you?” 

Joel’s hand hovers in the air, as if contemplating reaching for you again, but then it drops and he says, “I was with my daughter.”  

You blink.

Daughter.

Daughter?

“She lives there now,” Joel sounds a little breathless, cheeks pink as the words spill from him. “In New York, with her girlfriend. I’d planned to spend an extra day there with her, and then Nina—Nina cut her hand open at the studio and we had to go to the ER, and she had to get stitches and—” He pauses, waiting for you to jump in, to interrupt, to say anything. When you don’t, he takes a breath and continues. “And I wasn’t gonna stay any longer but Ellie was worried, and she needed me. She needed me there, and—and I’m never fuckin’ there, because she never needs me anymore. So I stayed, and I’m sorry I went silent but I was… I was takin’ care of my kid.” 

You think it might be the longest—and the fastest—you’ve ever heard him speak outside of a lecture hall.

His eyes drift to something over your shoulder and his entire body seems to sag a little. But it isn’t sad. It’s a resigned, sort of relaxed thing that happens – the corners of his mouth tilt up and he smiles weakly.

You turn, follow his eyeline until you see them.

Pictures, so many pictures, lining the walls of his home. Ones you’d paid no attention to when you first stepped inside, but can now see clearly. Bright eyes and wide toothy grins.

Some of Joel younger, leaner, smiling beside a little girl with curly hair. Some of him as you know him now; scruffy and greying, beside a different girl. This one lanky and pale and grimacing toward the camera as if she were forced into being placed in front of it.

There’s one picture of the girls beside each other, teenagers maybe, sat on either end of a seesaw. The curly-haired girl is on the upper end, grinning madly at the lens, while the other sits with her feet planted firmly on the ground, laughing up at her. Two of them. Two daughters?

“Please say somethin’.”

There’s a picture of Joel and he’s holding a tiny little bundle in his arms, and he looks so young and so fucking afraid. Dark eyes wide and teary as he gazes down at chubby cheeks, his index fingers crooked around the edge of her swaddle. A warm feeling swells in your chest and your body softens the longer you look at it. He’s a father.

Joel says your name and when you turn his face is all twisted up, and he looks the smallest you’ve ever seen him. Almost curled in on himself.

“I should’ve told you,” he nods, brown eyes darting across your face in an attempt to decipher your silence. “I know that, and I—”

“I’m an asshole,” you interrupt softly, and the tears never left but now they feel heavier on your waterline. Begging to spill over again.

“Hey,” he frowns, hand coming up to cup your cheek. His thumb swipes at the soft skin beneath your eye, begging the wetness there to disappear. “Hey, hey, no—”

“I didn’t think…” you trail off, sniffling. A sickly cocktail of embarrassment and guilt and shame swirl in the pit of your stomach and you try to swallow it down, try to send it away, but it’s persistent. “I never stopped to think that something had actually happened, that you had… I feel selfish, Joel, I’m sorr—”

“You’re not,” he hushes, fingers curling into the hair behind your ear. “You didn’t know. I should’ve told you before, and I’m sorry.”

“I thought you were staying away because of me,” you offer a watery smile. “I thought maybe you and…” You can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence. Can’t make your lips form the name Rachel.

“No,” he shakes his head, jaw tight, as if reading your mind.

“Is she okay?”

“Ellie?”

“Ellie,” you roll the name around in your mouth. His daughter.  “Yeah.”

“She’s okay,” he smiles, nodding. “They’re both fine.”

“And…” You look back at the pictures. Two. “And the other girl?”

“Sarah,” Joel says softly, pointing at wild curls and brown eyes that look just like his. And he must see the questions swirling in your brain because he speaks again. “I was twenty. My, uh, my girlfriend at the time didn’t know what to do. Didn’t wanna be a Mom, but didn’t agree with abortion, and we were so young and… well, I asked her to marry me cause it felt like the right thing to do, but she didn’t…” he shakes his head a little, a faraway look in his eye as he remembers it. “She said no. She never wanted that… so, after Sarah was born, I told her that she didn’t have to.”

“Didn’t have to?” you repeat the words, eyebrows furrowing.

“Didn’t have to stay,” he clarifies. Your lips part, surprised. “So, she didn’t, and we ain’t seen her since Sarah was a few months old.”

“Shit,” you whisper, eyes widening as the information finally starts to sink in.

“And Ellie,” he laughs then, gazing at a picture of auburn locks and shock grey eyes. “Well, that one showed up on my door some time fifteen years later. Been in ‘n’ outta foster care for years, and just started followin’ Sarah home from school one day. We did this little dance for a while; dinners and sleepovers and me slipping money into her backpack so she could buy lunch at school. And then one day she just… begged me not to make her go back to her own house. So I didn’t.”

“Wow, I…” you blink. “You adopted her? Alone?”

“I…” Joel pauses. Wets his lips, frowning as he collects his thoughts. “Alone is… I don’t think that’s the right word for it. You see Ellie was… Sarah and me, we just knew. She was family so fast. It was the only thing that made sense, you know?”

And it does, you suppose. The image isn’t hard to conjure. Joel at the dinner table with two teenagers on either side of him. Arguing over homework, over curfews, over what movie to watch. You can see the fondness in his eyes as he talks about them – the emotion laced through his words; we just knew.

“Tell me what you’re thinkin’,” Joel says, and that line between his eyebrows is back and it’s so deep that you can’t help yourself from reaching up and smoothing it over with your thumb. He catches your hand and holds it against the centre of his chest. Lets you feel the way his heart thuds heavily beneath the skin, a sturdy rhythm against your palm.

“It’s… it’s a lot to take in,” you confess, and his hand tightens over yours. “But I’m glad you told me.”

Brown eyes search yours, gaze heavy. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Okay then.” 

You flex your palm against his chest. Dig your fingers into the flesh there a little.

“Can I…” he hesitates, eyes flickering down. “Do you… Can I kiss you?” You, you, you.

Your heart beats fast, and you feel his do the same, and Joel is a father, and two daughters, and I can’t fuckin’ quit you, and you’re breathing into his mouth yes, yes you can kiss me, please kiss me.

It’s warm and it’s gentle and it feels like such a kindness to kiss him now and feel less space between the two of you. Feels like a thousand apologies and explanations slipping off his tongue and you opening your arms to him, saying I understand, saying thank you for telling me.

And when you pull him closer, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck, he meets you in kind, pressing your back against the wall. He shifts his hips between yours and shows you how much he’s missed you, and only when his hand drifts beneath the hem of your shirt do you pause.

He stills, warm breaths drifting across your mouth as he looks into your eyes.

“Talk to me.”

“I’m exhausted,” you admit shyly, twisting a finger through a frizzy lock of hair at the nape of his neck. You tug at it, not meeting his eye, and watch it bounce back into a curl when you let go. He nods and kisses you again, closed lips soft and not asking for anything, never asking for more than you want to give, before he takes your hand and leads you through his house for the first time.

He runs you a bath. Makes you sit on the edge while he lays out a towel and checks the temperature every few minutes. Only when he’s satisfied that the water is perfectly warm does he help peel the clothing from your body. He grips your hand and helps you step into the tub, lowering you down into sudsy water. And when you’re settled, he pulls a stool nearby and sits, keeping you company as you soak.   

“S’nice,” you tell him quietly, dragging a foamy sponge across your arms. “Thank you, Joel.”

The weight of before hangs over you a little, pressing down against your shoulders as you watch him. Gauge him. But he doesn’t seem angry or upset anymore. He leans over the lip of the tub. Runs his hands through the water, over the skin of your calf, your knee. Feels the coarse hairs that have grown there over the past fortnight and smiles when they scratch against his palm.

“Said you were sick?”

“Mhm.”

“What kind?”

“Just a cold,” you whisper. He squeezes your knee, palm against your patella, fingers soft in the flesh around it. “M’fine. Past it now.”

In the soapy water, his skin feels like silk against yours.

“Changin’ of the season,” he muses with a nod. “Normally gets me too.” 

And you laugh a little at that, because it’s such a fatherly thing to say and you can’t believe how naïve you’d been to not see it before. Can suddenly picture him doing this a thousand times over; resting by the bath while one of his little girls floats in the water, nose all stuffy from the flu.

At the sound of your laughter he smiles, gaze dropping to your mouth, and the skin beside his eyes pinches. Little wrinkles, so soft and so beautiful that you want to reach out and brush your fingers across them.

“You’re so beautiful,” Joel murmurs, and his voice is hushed, so low in the small bathroom.

His fingers skirt against the inside of your thigh and you splay your legs open for him, knees knocking against the sides of the tub. He glances down through the water to where you’re spread open for him to see, shameless, and smiles.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he repeats.

“So are you, Joel.”

“Psh,” he rolls his eyes, offering a delicate little smile. So shy, so feeble, and so desperate to believe you. A little glimpse of that wary weight, still pressing down on him as well.

“Mean it,” you insist in a whisper. You lift a hand from the water, wet thumb grazing the corner of his mouth. Feel the bristles of his moustache, the hairs on his cheek, prickling against your skin.

“Swoony type,” you say, smiling when recognition flashes in his eyes. Stroke the fresh blush on his cheeks. “Long hair, bedroom eyes, cheeks like wine.”

“Hmm,” he murmurs, turning to press a kiss against your palm. “Can’t get away with plagiarisin’ Carson in this house, baby.”

“She just said it so well.”

“She did,” he agrees. “So did Tartt.”

“Tartt?” your mind wanes, the warm water lulling you into a sleepy sort of daze. You rest heavy against the side of the bath, gazing up at him

“Beauty is terror,” he quotes tenderly, eyes bold and earnest as he holds your stare. “Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it.”

You wrap an arm around his shoulders, water droplets staining his shirt where your fingers grip the material, and pull him forward to kiss you. Joel grips the inside of your leg and kisses you until your skin prunes and wrinkles. And when he notices he laughs with you, gripping your hand to press his lips against fingertips that look like raisins. Worships the soaked skin of your fingers until you pull his face back to yours; jealous of your own hands, fearful that they might come to know his kiss better than your lips.

And when the water goes lukewarm and you don’t know what time it is anymore, he dries you off with a soft towel and offers once more to take you home. But you say no, so he smiles and kisses you again—your lips, your cheeks, your eyelids—and leads you to his bedroom.

He drags a too-big shirt over your head, helps you loop your arms into the sleeves. Dark blue and warm, so warm, against your skin.

The two of you slip beneath the covers on his bed and he drags you against his side; lets you press your cold toes against his shins without so much as a flinch.

Facing each other on your sides, those hands slink beneath the shirt, rough palms cradling your ribs, your back, holding you tight against his chest until your breathing falls in sync. And those hands don’t stray, don’t move down, they just embrace you. A carefully held apology that promises I want this, to hold you, to be with you, too.

It stays like that, nothing more, until your eyelids are heavy, and his breathing has evened out. Stays like that until your hand drops from his back to the band of his boxers, sleepy little fingers plucking at the material, trying to slip underneath.

“You should rest.”

But you whine softly; needy and insistent as your fingers press harder.

“What do you need?” Joel rasps into your neck, helping you shift them down his legs.

“Need you,” you whisper back into the darkness of his bedroom. “Wanna feel you, I—”

His mouth is soft against yours, plucking those words from your mouth and swallowing them down. He sucks your bottom lip between his, prying your mouth open so he can slip his tongue inside.

His hand in on your knee, pulling your leg up until your thigh rests heavy around his hip and you can feel the hot weight of him against your core, still slick and warm and needy from when his hand rested on the inside of your leg in the bath.

And if you’d ever subscribed to the meaning behind words like sin you suppose that once this might have counted as one. An act worthy of being sent to reside in that second circle of hell, reserved solely for those overcome by lust; left to blow back and forth in the storm of their own desire. Two people who cannot touch, should not touch, who hold their hands out to feel anyways. A touch once spiteful, once desolate and removed, now so forthcoming. A touch that says this is the only way it could have ever been. And there can be nothing sinful about it anymore. No more shame or derision behind heavy eyelids, no more you shouldn’t or I’m no good for you. Here you rest comfortably in the hurricane of that second circle, and you welcome the breeze as a comfort.

Lips against yours, Joel feeds his cock to you in slow, careful passes.

Ensures you feel every ridge, every hard line of his body. And with each gentle press inside he murmurs against your mouth. Incessant, low nonsenses of so fuckin’ beautiful and god I missed you and that’s it, baby, I know, I know. His kiss smooth as an almond, tender as a fig. Ripe and wet and tremulous as his tongue finds a home against yours, over and over.

The comforter on his bed stays pulled high, up to your shoulders, and it traps the warmth of your bodies between you.

He coaxes rough, gasping sounds from you with every shift of his hips.

Long fingers grip the back of your thigh, using his hold there to rock your body into his over and over again, slowly, making sure you feel every second of it. Slick seeps out of you around his length, smearing against the inside of your thighs and his, and he groans at the wet sounds that slip from where the two of you are connected.

Joel says your name, low and gravelly, praising every syllable. He tells you how good it feels, how perfect you are, and every word is like an undressing of the flesh. Like you’re some tender butcher, peeling back layers of his skin to let the air hit hot, red, pulsating matter, flashes of thick, porcelain bone swimming amongst it all. He keeps you close, hardly an inch of your body not touching his, and yet you can see all of him. The whole surface and everything underneath it now too. And when you say his name in return and he moans, begs you to say it again, say my name again, it’s hearts on wings, thin fire racing beneath the skin, eyes unseeing, drumming filling your ears. It’s the cold sweat on his hands that hold you shaking, that feel the way you tremble and grip tighter. It’s wanting to take those bones of his and suck them clean; lick past the gristle and taste the marrow beyond it.

It's everything and it’s nothing and it’s that silly little four-letter word that you can’t bring yourself to say, let alone think, and it doesn’t even matter because he’s here and that’s enough.

His nose rests in the hollow above your collarbone and he inhales, smothering soft kisses to skin and bone there.

He says, “You smell like me,” and when he looks up and presses his forehead against yours, he almost looks wounded by it. He stills, holds himself deep inside and just stares, and his eyes are screaming I can’t fuckin’ quit you, so you lay your thumb over the dimple on his cheek and smile. “S’my clothes, my soap…”

Your body flutters and tightens around him, and your mouths fall open in soft moans, lips slotting together again.

“You like that?” you breathe into the kiss, and he tightens his fist around the back of the shirt, pressing inward until your back is arched, and your stomach is flush against his and he’s groaning yes.

“Want you in my clothes all the fuckin’ time,” he pants, and the tip of his cock presses so deep inside that you’re gasping, mouth hanging wide open. “And when you give ‘em back I’ll wear ‘em and smell like you, and then we’ll be even.”

“Even?” you laugh a little, nipping at his bottom lip. He smiles, eyes glinting in the darkness.

“Yeah, even,” he repeats it and presses forward in a sharp thrust to emphasise his point. You don’t need to hear it again to know exactly what he means.

“Tell me you’re mine,” you whisper, and he grunts, hips shifting a little faster against yours. You feel him pulse inside of you, his stomach tightening against yours.

“M’yours,” Joel murmurs, voice like velvet and honey, so soft as he leans forward to kiss you, licking the words into your mouth. You say it back, spell it out against his teeth, his lips, his jaw. Yours, yours, yours. 

He says something else then, lips soft against your chin, and you’re so close; can feel it hot and burning in your gut, almost at tipping point.

“Hmm?”

“Baby,” Joel nips at your jaw, sharpening your senses. “Tell me you’re on the pill or somethin’.”

“I am,” you whimper honestly, and his body seems to sag against yours, hips shifting in sluggish, tired movements.

Something snaps at the base of your spine, and you tremble against him, gripping the back of his neck. Soon enough he’s shuddering into you, arms going tight around your back, trapping you against his chest as his cock pumps inside your core. And it’s warm and wet and sticky and his seed drools out of you, down to your asshole, smearing against the inside of your thighs, his sheets. Your legs wrap around his waist, holding him to you, keeping him there as long as you possibly can. Riding out your highs, and then the trembling, stuttering aftershocks in each other’s arms. He pants into your mouth and all either of you can say is mine or yours, until the words mix together and become a meaningless blur of sound murmured between locked lips.

It could be minutes or an entire hour before you manage to separate from each other. All eager little kisses and whines as his soft cock slips from your hold, thick spend seeping out of you in his absence. And you just want to sleep, want to curl up in his arms and never leave, but you slink off to the bathroom first. Wet your face and drop down on his toilet. Urinate and feel his come drip out of you. And where once, with someone else, you might have cringed at the feeling, you only feel warmth; calm.

In the bright lighting of his bathroom, you can see yourself reflected in the mirror above his sink. Hair a wild mess, cheeks and lips swollen with warmth. This woman in the mirror stares back at you and she has bright eyes. She smiles at you, and you feel your lips peel back, teeth on show just like hers. You stare at her and think god, she looks happy. When you wipe between your thighs and stand, she does too. And with your finger on the light switch, a wet handtowel clutched in your other palm, you give her one last look before turning out the light, feeling lighter than you have in weeks.

Thursday.

Joel sleeps on his stomach. At least, that’s how he ends up overnight.

Face buried deep in a pillow, one leg slung outside of the covers, with a heavy arm out to the side. When you wake, at first, you’re careful not to move. Not to breathe too heavily, not to cough or jostle him awake. He looks so peaceful like this. Heavy breaths puffing from chapped pouty lips, forehead smooth and devoid of the stress and exhaustion that often lines his face. A large hand rests close to you. Despite you drifting a part in the night, the body heat getting too much for you both, his fingers remain outstretched in your direction. The tips just grazing the skin of your stomach as you lie on your side and watch him.

A low murmur escapes from his mouth, face twitching a little, and then he’s relaxing again, humming in his sleep. You smile, and let your eyes wander.

There’s a pile of books on his bedside table, reading glasses dropped haphazardly atop them.

An Idiot’s Guide to Space, one of the weathered spines reads. Interesting.

A framed painting rests above a set of drawers on the side of his room. A vast landscape with a herd of horses galloping across it. Gorgeous hides of orange and brown and black splashed across green grass and blue sky. And on the back of his door… hangs a cowboy hat.

You move slowly, careful not to wake him as you rise and tip toe across the room. Coming to rest directly in front of the closed door, you slip it off the hook and admire it. You don’t even hear his breathing change as he wakes up.

Dark brown with a curved brim; the felt is soft beneath your fingers. The image of Joel wearing it, perhaps often, while living in Texas flits through your mind and you can’t help but smile. And then warm hands are on your hips, arms snaking around your waist to pull you back into a warm chest.

You gasp in quiet surprise, but your smile only broadens when Joel rests his chin on your shoulder, peering down at the hat in your hands.

“Mornin’,” he murmurs, voice gruff and deeper than usual. A pang of arousal swims in your core at the sound of it, but you ignore that, turning in his grasp.

“Good morning, cowboy.”

Joel groans, sleepy eyes drifting closed as he hugs you to his chest, swaying the two of you from side to side.

“Wanted to lie in,” he grumbles. “S’too early for this.”

“For what?” you blink in mock confusion, holding the hat against your chest.

“For you to see that.” He moves quick, tugging it from your grasp.

“Hey—” You gasp, wide eyed and ready to steal it back. But before you can Joel just lifts it onto his head with a heavy sigh. “Oh.”

“Oh?” he repeats, eyes narrowing.

Warmth simmers in your stomach and you smirk, stepping back to give him a quick once over.

“I could get used to this.”

“Jesus,” he rolls his eyes, moving to take it off but you grip his hand, shaking your head fiercely.

“Not so fast,” you coo. “I want the whole experience.”

“And what exactly is the whole experience?”

“You know—” You shimmy your hips a little. Imitate twirling a lasso in the air, wiggling your eyebrows. “Show me some tricks.”

Joel laughs at you, and you can see the desire in him to say no, to refute it, but the longer you stare him down, the more it cracks and fizzles away.  

“Go on, cowboy,” you try out your best Texan drawl, falling down to sit on the edge of his bed.  

He adjusts his legs, elbows bending as he waves two finger guns in your direction. You suck your lips into your mouth, swallowing down a laugh as he makes a small pchew pchew noise out the side of his mouth.

“Oh,” you smirk. “Is that all you got?”

“I’ll have you know,” Joel huffs, pretending to holster one of his guns. Hip cocked now, still dressed in nothing but his sleep shirt and boxers; he stares you down. “I’m startin’ to think this town ain’t big enough for the both of us.”

And that gets you. A sharp, barking laughs slips from your mouth, and Joel grins in return, the skin beside his eyes creasing as he adjusts the Stetson over his curls.

As your giggles calm, he just shakes his head, still smiling, and murmurs fondly, “Dadgum, you got a good laugh.”

Your face warms beneath his stare, and you just shake your head, bottom lip snagged between your teeth. Moving quick, Joel pinches the brim of the hat and places it onto your head. It’s a little big, and the brim falls down, obscuring your eyesight before he adjusts it for you. Then he takes a step back, hands on hips.

“How do I look?” You bat your eyelashes up at him, smiling shyly.

“I don’t know,” he fakes an air of contemplation, giving you a long look up and down. “Think you might be all hat ‘n’ no cattle.”

“Hey,” you pout. “I’d make a great cowboy; just need a pair of chaps.”

“Well, you can wear the hat and the chaps all you like,” Joel murmurs, gaze heavy. “But you ain’t a cowboy ‘til you prove you can ride like one.”

Your thighs tense and you arch an eyebrow, trying to remain nonchalant.

“Is that right?”

“S’right.”

“Mm,” you hum. You lick your bottom lip and watch the way his gaze darkens, eyes trained on the movement. “Gonna let me show you what I got?”

And so you end up back in bed, straddling Joel while he smirks up at you, long fingers twisting around the hem of your t-shirt. But when you slip a finger inside the hem of his boxers, the movement so reminiscent of last night, he laughs a little and gives you a look that says, really?

You pout, confused. “I thought you wante—”

“Uh uh,” Joel shakes his head. “Not what I meant.”

“Then what?”

“Get up here.” He lifts his chin upward.

Your eyes widen, stomach tensing a little.

Desire warms the inside of your thighs, and you murmur, “You want that?”

“Do I wa—?” he cuts himself off, eyes darkening a shade. “I said, get up here.”

Heart racing, you shimmy up his chest until your knees are planted on the mattress on either side of his shoulders. He smiles, encouraging, and you grip the hem of his shirt, prepared to pull it over your head, but he stops you.

“No,” he exhales, hand quickly gripping yours. “Leave it on for me.” And then he leans in and presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, and you can only nod, holding your breath as you wait for him to reach where you want his mouth the most.

Face tucked in the cradle of your hips, Joel sighs your name. A rough exhalation, nose pressed into your skin. And it feels a little silly at first – your face is warm as you stare down at him, the wide brim of the cowboy hat tilting forward.

But then, breath hot and heavy against you, he mouths at the crease where your hip meets your thigh. Slow, drawn-out kisses that have your legs tensing over him, his hands slip beneath the shirt, tracing light patterns into the skin over your spine, all the way up to your shoulders. He keeps going until you’re shivering, a wet trembling mess in his hands, hips twitching forward with every touch of his mouth to your skin until he finally glides his tongue through your folds.

Your breathing hitches as he pants against you, chest vibrating with low sounds as he licks thick stripes up the entire length of your pussy. Eyes closed, he tastes all of you; tongue slipping over every piece of exposed skin that the position grants him. And with every broad stroke of his tongue, he dips inside your weeping hole and finishes with a gentle flick against your clit. So soft and so slow, building you up over and over until finally you break and begin rocking your hips into his face.  

Joel grunts at first, a little surprised maybe, but in a second his hands are dropping to grip your thighs, locking you in place against his face.

At first, he guides you. Helps you find a rhythm that works, that feels good. Flattens his tongue and uses his grip to rock you back and forth over his face, groaning as you roll your clit against him, huffing and panting quiet little pleas. But soon enough your fingers are carding through his hair, holding him tight against you as you grind down into his mouth. Sharpening his tongue, he dips it inside of you and then drags upward, pulling your clit into his mouth and sucking gently.

You gasp, vision going hazy as you try to keep your eyes on him, try to watch, but it’s too good. He knows exactly what you like, and it all moves far too quickly for your liking. You can already feel your hips winding faster and harder against him, breaths falling shorter, everything in your stomach pulling tight and hot.

Joel can tell – he can always fucking tell – and one of his hands drifts over your ass, fingers slipping between your thighs from behind until his middle finger is circling your entrance.

“Fuck,” you inhale sharply, jaw going slack as he prods at your cunt, tongue lapping lazily over your clit all the while. “Please, your fingers, yeah, ohhh—”

A long finger sinks inside and you moan, head falling back.

“You like that?” he murmurs, pulling back to graze his teeth along the inside of your thigh. A second finger presses inside, and he curls them against that soft spot, fucking you slow and steady until you acquiesce, whimpering yesyesyesfucksogood towards the ceiling.

“Good girl,” he hums, slick tongue finding its way back to your clit.

He eats at you so lovingly. So generous as he lathes firm circles around your nerves, only ever pausing to suck you into his mouth again or press wet, open-mouthed kisses against the entirety of your cunt. Nose buried in the short curls over your mound, he doesn’t let up until your moans turn high pitched; strained little whimpers of his name falling from your lips as you press down harder and harder.

“Oh fuck,” you cry, hips rocking back and forth, faster now. He breathes you in, jaw shifting from side to side, matching the intensity of your movements with sharp flicks of his tongue. And when you fall apart, shoulders sagging forward, he moans, taking and taking and taking every last drop of what you have to offer.

And what an image it must be – you, wearing a Stetson, riding Joel Miller’s face. You almost wish you’d filmed it, for posterity’s sake.

He presses a small kiss to one swollen lip of your pussy, and then the other, before his head is falling back into the pillows and he’s smiling up at you.

The lower half of his face shines, lips and facial hair slick with your come, and you can’t help but grin back, a tired snort of laughter slipping from your mouth.

“How’d I do?” You grip the brim of the hat, tipping it down at him.

Joel smirks, hands squeezing your thighs, helping to shift you up and onto the side of the bed so he can sit up.

“I’d say you more than proved yourself,” he hums, leaning in to steal a kiss. You sigh, whining against his warm wet mouth, and reach a hand down to press it against his abdomen. Shifting lower, you trail your fingers over where his cock strains against his boxers, but Joel just tuts, pulling away and slipping off the bed.  

“Hey,” you huff, gripping his shirt and trying to pull him back down, but he just shakes his head, laughing, and drags you to your feet.

“Gonna be late,” he tells you, squeezing your hips and pressing a kiss to your temple. “And you needa eat.”

Late. You’d almost forgotten that you had a lecture this morning. Joel’s lecture.

He turns, rifling in the chest of drawers, pulling out clothes, a pair of socks, while you stand behind him and watch, knees still shaking, with a fucking cowboy hat on your head. After a moment he turns, stares, and a rough laugh hits the air. Shaking his head, Joel grips the brim and tosses the hat back up on its hook before pointing towards the ensuite, telling you to shower.

“You coming?” you ask, and he just shakes his head, tugging on socks before padding towards the hallway.

“Cowboys don’t shower, baby,” he flashes a smile over his shoulder at you and winks. “They just dust off.” 

When you make your way out of the shower, Joel is in the kitchen. Ironed black trousers and a neat white shirt cover his frame, and from across the room you admire him. That strong back, the pert rounded muscles of his ass. Fuck.

He manages to over scramble the eggs and burn the bacon because he can’t stop looking over his shoulder at where you rest at his dining table. Head resting heavy in your palm, you smile back at him. And when he puts a plate of food in front of you, you don’t have a single complaint.

The two of you eat fast, plucking little pieces of eggshell out as you go, smiling and laughing shyly as your feet tangle beneath the table. He watches you; makes sure you clear your plate before he takes it to the sink, murmuring something about how he won’t make you sit through me talkin’ for hours on an empty stomach. Says he’s pretty sure that counts as torture somewhere, baby.

And when he turns, dirty dishes forgotten in the sink, you’re staring at him, heart on your sleeve, and he must see it in your eyes. You know that it has to be clear as day; that forbidden four-letter word blazing across your forehead in bold letters.

Joel clocks your gaze and moves to hover over where you sit, wordlessly cupping your face in two broad palms and slotting his mouth over yours. And as he licks into your mouth, tasting the remnants of eggs and bacon and every unsaid word, you start to believe that maybe confessing wouldn’t be so bad. That maybe forbidden is a word you’ve prescribed to this feeling all on your own – that he might just be feeling the exact same way.

But he pulls back, presses two more quick pecks to your mouth and tells you to get ready, says he’ll drive the two of you to school, and the moment slips from your grasp.  

Back in his car, you feel relieved to replace the memory of yesterday with this one. Windows down, the air is cool and calm against your skin as he drives you through town, sated, dopey smiles across both of your faces.

A Bob Dylan song drifts from the speakers and Joel sings along under his breath.

“We’ll meet again someday on the avenue. Tangled up in blue.” Voice low and breathy, left hand on the wheel, right hand on your thigh. You nod along to the lyrics, your fingers tracing the veins and tendons on the back of his hand all the way until he pulls over.

“Shouldn’t be seen walkin’ in together.”

“Yeah,” you agree, understanding. “Best not.”  

The truck idles on the side of the road, somewhere inconspicuous down the street from campus, and you slip out his passenger door. Close it with a thud and peer in at him through the open window, eyes devouring every part of his face as if you won’t be seeing him within the hour, stood up in front of the room giving a lecture.

The truck peels away from the curb, Tangled Up In Blue still whining from those speakers, and Joel sends a quick wink out the window at you, his face a blur as he drives off. And you just smile, chest warm despite the cool Spring air on your face, walking along in the same direction – because you know exactly what that wink means. And you love it.

Our little secret.

a/n refs:

in Dante’s Inferno he said that those overcome with lust were doomed to the second circle of hell, wherein they would be buffeted back and forth by the terrible winds of a violent storm, without rest. slay.

the bacchae tr. by anne carson [read if you have mummy issues, a massive ego, or just like the idea of frolicking in the woods for a while...]

the secret history by donna tartt [read if you like unreliable narrators, strange professors and stranger students, and the nursery rhyme 'the farmer in the dell']

the end of the affair by graham greene [read if you like weird intense guys and angst and infidelity]

eros the bittersweet by anne carson [read if you're cool as fuck]

thank you for reading! x

[peachhcs]

sweet, sweet memories

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

the holidays bring the hughes’s and smiths back together in cape cod where nostalgia and the holiday spirit washes over everyone

wc: 5.7k

requested by anon to write about samy + will celebrating christmas and hanukkah. this turned into less samy and will and more all of the hughes siblings and smith siblings instead. also less hanukkah, i’m sorry about that but it is mentioned a lot! i forget sometimes that the hughes are half jewish, so this was a nice touch to add. i wanted to try a new writing style so i sprinkled in some old memories between the plot and wrote more grace x quinn x jack dynamic bc i feel like i never write about their relationship growing up, but anyways, this is long so enjoy!

au masterlist

for the first time in probably four years, all the hughes kids were coming home for the holidays. the hockey gods aligned for the devils and canucks allowing the three boys to have three days off before their next game which meant three days to fly home and spend the holidays with family after doing it through facetime for the last few years. the sharks followed the same schedule which meant will was flying home too, so with the knowledge that all the kids were coming home, ellen and colleen decided to plan a joint holiday at the smith's family home in cape cod.

so all their kids booked their flights for monday night and tuesday morning to fly out to cape cod. jack and luke were the first ones in after their game finished late that afternoon. ellen excitedly greeted her boys when they came through the door. "hi, hi. it's so good to see both of you," the older woman kissed her son's cheeks as they returned her tight hugs.

"hey mom, good to see you too. hi colleen, hi bill," jack greeted his "second parents" next, quickly exchanging similar hugs.

"it's so good to see you both. how was the flight?" colleen wondered, kissing the boys' cheeks too.

"really good. quick. thanks for hosting here," luke smiled brightly.

"of course. we're so excited all of you will be here for a few days. you two are the first ones here," colleen laughed.

"figures. when's everyone else coming?" jack wondered as he shedded himself of his jacket.

"samy and grace should be here in another hour. quinny and will aren't coming in until tomorrow afternoon," ellen explained everyone else's whereabouts.

"tomorrow afternoon?" luke sounded surprised that his older brother wasn't getting there sooner. ellen nodded though, "their game isn't starting until 9pm our time, so they're catching the earliest flight out tomorrow morning."

"damn. that's crazy. at least quinny has one more day of vacation than we do," jack chuckled. the boys ventured downstairs to the basement with their things. the usual rule was that luke stayed in will's room, samy stayed in grace's room, jack and quinn stayed in the spare room down in the basement, and ellen and jim were in the guest room upstairs.

when they were younger, the boys made the entire basement their "man cave" during the summer where they just took over the entire downstairs and will and luke bunked down on the couches. the same applied to the michigan lake house too before more friends started coming by. things were probably going to change now that will and samy were together, but that was a later problem the parents could work out tomorrow when everyone got in. for now, jack unloaded his bag in his and quinn's room while luke just threw his backpack and suitcase in the corner of the room.

the older boys caught themselves up with the parents while they awaited the girls' arrivals. jack and luke gladly told colleen and bill about their season so far, explaining how luke's second full year has been and jack overcoming his shoulder injury. finally, an uber pulled into the drive that was definitely either samy or grace. everyone crowded the front windows to see and much to their surprise, both girls jumped out of the vehicle and raced up the porch steps.

"surprise! we ran into one another at the airport," samy giggled when she pushed the door open.

"what a coincidence! i'm glad you did," ellen chuckled and pulled her daughter in for a hug. more hellos and hugs were exchanged between everyone as the girls got themselves inside.

"heya squirt," jack nuzzled his sister's head in typical older brother fashion. the brunette quickly squirmed out of his grasp.

"what's up rowdy," samy cheesed, flicking jack's hat off in response.

"good to know you haven't changed in a week," the older boy mumbled and let her go so she could say hi to luke.

"how were the flights?" jim asked.

"it was quick and painless. i made it through tsa in 10 minutes which i think is a new record for me," samy explained, bending down to greet the smith's dog they brought everywhere.

"good. glad to hear that. quinny and will are coming in tomorrow afternoon. we have the pregame talkshow up now," colleen nodded towards the big tv.

"ooh, good. i'm excited to watch this one," samy grinned and followed grace upstairs to put her things away for now.

the two girls came back downstairs a minute later and both families got themselves comfortable around the tv to watch their last two members battle it out on the ice in an hour. ellen and colleen busied themselves in the kitchen knowing they had a lot to start prepping for the christmas and hanukkah dishes since hanukkah started on the same day as christmas this year. the kids got the big couch where they spread themselves out between it and the floor. samy slumped down between luke and grace, sending messages to will that they were all watching the game from cape cod.

"so what've you been up to gg?" jack directed his attention to the oldest smith, the nickname being one he's called her since they were kids.

"not a lot really. trying to find my footing and thinking about moving," the older girl explained.

"moving? where to?" luke chirped up.

"i don't know yet, honestly. i really liked the west coast when i was there moving will in, but i don't know if i can be that far away from home," she explained.

"you'd have quinny kind of..close by-ish..you two would be on the west coast together!" luke exclaimed making grace giggle.

"i've been thinking about it and trying to look up apartments. i guess we'll have to see," she smiled softly. "what about you jj and moosey? how's the garden state?"

"it's a dream, g. you have to come visit us sometime. come to a game," jack said like he was so enamored by new jersey still after being there for five years.

"i know, i've been meaning to make plans to come see you guys, but i got caught up with college graduation this past may and then traveling," grace explained and the boys nodded in understanding.

"sorry we missed that. things got crazy busy in may," jack chuckled a bit as his head leaned back against the edge of the couch.

"don't sweat it, i get it. the card from all of you was super nice," the blonde smiled. it wasn't often that the older siblings got to really catch up with one another, so they were really taking advantage of it these next few days.

when they were younger, it was always quinn, jack, and grace against luke, samy, and will. the older three took charge of the younger three—a perfect split—but as life happened and things got busier, all six of them were never around at the same time anymore. being in cape cod reminded all of them of the memories they made in the house and out on the beach fifteen steps away if they widened their strides.

summer of 2012

"why would i listen to you?" luke protested to his 13 year old brother. quinn rolled his eyes, already not excited about going out to the beach, "because i'm older than you and in charge."

"who put you in charge? you're not even that much older than me," the younger boy continued and poor quinn was losing his patience with luke.

"mom put jack, grace, and i in charge because she's gonna take her chance and trust all of us out on the beach today without her watching which means you have to do what we say," quinn emphasized the last part.

"i'm 9. i don't need a babysitter," luke complained. "i'm a year younger than grace!"

"i don't make the rules, moose. i'm not arguing with you anymore," quinn walked away for his own sake. he heard luke huff and then probably hurry off to find their mom. the older boy wandered back into the kitchen where will and samy were at the counter finishing their snacks and grace was doing samy's hair for her.

"moose is being an idiot," quinn mumbled in annoyance.

"don't call him an idiot, q. he just wants to feel included," grace defended luke.

"included? i am including him. i was just telling him the rules for today. i'm not taking the fall if he chooses not to listen to us," the brunette shrugged.

"dude, what'd you do to moose? he's all mad now," jack came into the kitchen a moment later.

"i didn't do anything! he's being a brat," quinn argued while jack just shook his head.

"you shouldn't poke the bear. you know how he gets," the younger brunette dug himself out another juice even though ellen said only one before they left.

"whatever. you guys are dealing with him if he starts again. i'm already done," quinn shook his head.

all 6 of them finally made it out of the house after another fifteen minutes. luke and will took off to the water where quinn was yelling at them to only go out to their waist since their parents weren't there. he was probably the one who took this "in charge" thing the most seriously. samy wanted to build a sandcastle so grace opted to help her do so.

things were going fine for a good seven minutes until luke came running back up the beach holding his palm with teary eyes. quinn, jack, and grace immediately rushed to the boy's side. "moosey, what happened?" quinn urged and then they all saw the piece of glass sticking out of his skin.

"oh no," jack muttered.

"i-i was just trying to find seashells and then i felt something poke my hand.." luke got out in sobs.

"hey, it's okay. it's not your fault," grace was quick to shush his cries, always the one who knew how to manage everyone's emotions.

"mom's gonna freak when she finds out," jack mumbled.

"she's never gonna put us in charge again," quinn frowned when he realized he already messed up his role of protector. he wanted to fix this, so he had to act fast. "j, you run inside and find a bandaid, wet cloth, and antiseptic," the older boy instructed.

"roger that," jack took off back towards the house.

"it's gonna be okay, moosey. we're gonna get you fixed up. it doesn't even look that bad," quinn assured and grace nodded in agreement.

"i-i'm sorry, quinny. i didn't mean to," the younger boy was still crying.

"it's not your fault, i promise. you were just playing around. it's whoever left glass on the beach," the older brother mustered his best smile in hopes of making luke feel better.

"when i was 8, i cut my foot on glass too. not a fun at all, but with the right medicine, it will be okay," grace added, trying to lift the boy's spirits.

"will i be able to swim still?" luke wondered, his tears finally settling.

"maybe not today, but once the cut heals, yes. it should only take a few days," quinn nodded with another smile.

jack came back running with all of what quinn asked for. the three got to work with fixing up luke's hand. quinn took the lead and pulled the little piece of glass from his brother's hand. grace used the antiseptic to clean the cut up real good before jack laid the bandaid down.

"see? good as new," grace grinned.

"thanks, guys. sorry again," luke frowned.

"not your fault, moose," quinn said and urged his brother to go have fun again. will begun helping samy with her castle in the meantime so luke quickly joined in. the oldest hughes held his hand up for a high five.

"good work everyone. mom will be proud of us," the older three grinned.

now two of the oldest tuned themselves in to the game beginning to unfold as quinn and will took the ice, a scene their 13, 11, 10, 9, and 7 year old selves never would've even dreamed of.

—

the next day, christmas eve and the night before the first night of hanukkah, everyone awaited will and quinn's arrivals. colleen and ellen pulled samy and grace to help them in the kitchen while somehow jack and luke evaded the help and went outside to the beach. it was cold for a december day, but warm enough that the breeze felt refreshing instead of freezing.

"god, i love being back here," jack hummed, his toes sinking into the soft sand.

"it reminds me so much of being little considering we don't come out here a lot anymore," luke shared the sentiments. the last time either of them could remember being in cape cod was probably years ago when luke was just starting the dev program. it seemed like being in cape cod was filled with old memories while the lake house in michigan was the bridge to the new memories and friends that filled the house each year.

cape cod would always be the hughes's and smiths to keep close to them and a place to fill whenever the families wanted time together.

as the day ticked by, there was probably dishes worth of food to eat in the next couple of days which wasn't surprising at all. ellen and colleen always went overboard with the food anytime they started cooking, so they were trusting all the kids and bill and jim would eat it all.

the last uber holding the final two kids pulled into the driveway around 4:40pm. samy was rushing down the steps to greet her boyfriend and brother first. she embraced quinn who eagerly scooped her into his arms much like jack and luke did. "wow, long time no see, little hughes," quinn grinned.

"glad you're finally here quinny," samy beamed and jumped towards will next. the blonde lifted her into his arms in a similar manner even though they did just see one another a little over a week ago.

"hi pretty girl, i missed you," will kissed her cheek.

"i missed you. great game last night. you guys were so good," samy praised both boys as they got their things from the back.

"eh, it was nothing," quinn played off the canucks win with a small shrug.

everyone else was waiting on the porch step for the boys. they went through all of the hugs with everyone and smiley hello's. ellen was finally glad to have all of her kids under one roof plus grace and will. the younger smith squeezed both of his parents and sister in tight hugs. "so good to see you again, will," colleen gushed after not seeing her son since visiting a few months ago.

the large group made their way back inside, tasteful aromas filling their senses from all the cooking happening. "good flights i assume?" ellen asked.

"long eight hours, but yeah. it was fine," quinn nodded.

"he snored the whole time," will exposed the older boy, snickering with luke and samy.

"alright, i get it. i snore. you do, too," quinn poked the rookie's shoulder.

"you guys get settled and then i'm sure everyone's hungry so we can eat dinner fairly soon. everything is almost all ready," ellen grinned.

"i'm assuming you're kicking me to the basement, right?" luke motioned between will and his sister who's faces flushed at his words. "i don't have to sleep in—"

"nah, it's fine. my stuff is already all down there anyway. gg, you get a room to yourself for once," luke teased while grace laughed. even though the couple had been together for more than a year now, the older three were still adjusting to seeing the new dynamic within their family. what used to be a divide between girls and boys most of time was now mixed in as they got older. they also just weren't around anymore to fully get used to the idea of samy and will dating after avoiding one another because "boys and girls had cooties."

"just don't be too loud when you start—"

"and that looks like the cue for will and quinn to put their stuff down," samy cut luke off before he finished his sentence. the curly-haired brunette just winked while the others snickered. the young couple's blush got worse as samy rushed will upstairs before anyone said something else uncalled for in front of their parents.

"it never gets old," luke mumbled to himself, collapsing back onto the couch.

"and i'll never get used to it until they get married probably," jack shook his head slightly.

quinn, jack, and grace could picture the first summer they started noticing changes in samy and will's relationship.

summer of 2018

samy and will were 13. luke mumbled something to jack in passing one day when he claimed that will kept inviting samy to hang out with them when he's never done it before. jack didn't really think much of it, also not really caring for luke's 15 year old moodiness as a 17 year old. no one really thought anything of it until quinn caught sight of the two younger ones on the porch together playing cards by themselves. he raised his eyebrow.

"what are you creeping at?" grace noticed quinn by the window.

"samy and will are out there playing cards by themselves," the older boy pointed out. grace went over to look for herself and sure enough, her brother and samy were smiling and laughing as they played two person uno.

"do you ever feel like this summer feels different?" the 18 year old wondered.

"different how?" grace grew curious.

"i don't know like everyone feels a million years older," quinn shrugged.

"i mean..we are older. you're starting sophomore year of college. luke's starting usntdp this fall. jack's almost done with usntdp..." grace listed off all the differences.

"yeah, yeah, but besides the obvious. something just feels different. like maybe everyone's all grown up now that we aren't needed anymore? quinn admitted and grace's expression fell.

"not needed? i don't think we can ever escape that being the oldest siblings," the girl laughed a little.

"i mean with the smaller stuff, you know? it feels like everyone's found their footing. i mean samy and will don't avoid one another anymore. cooties must've rubbed off," the brunette laughed too.

"we'll always be needed, q, just for different reasons, but i understand where you're coming from. it is weird seeing them get along so well now," grace peered out of the window again to catch another glimpse.

samy followed will to his room. it was roughly decorated with famous hockey players he picked out when they were like eight and stayed exactly this way since colleen and bill never found the need to redecorate the beach house rooms. "wow, i feel like i'm eight again," will admired the old medals and posters on the wall.

"this whole house feels like a time capsule to me. we like never come here anymore," the girl settled onto the bed.

"i know. it's cool being back though. feels like those really old times when we were little," will grinned when samy giggled at the memories. the blonde began unpacking some of his things before joining his girlfriend on the bed.

"how've you been?" he wondered.

"i'm good. you?"

"better now that we get to spend a few days together," the blonde cheesed earning a blush on samy's cheeks.

"i love you. how are you feeling about the game from last night?" because of how late everything was and will's early flight, the couple hadn't gotten a chance to talk about it like they usually would.

"fine. it was fine. i knew we would lose against quinn again," will shrugged, playing it off even though samy saw right through the disappointment settling into his body. she tugged his glance towards her, "i know it's hard losing so much, but it's nothing on you."

"i know, i just..it's still weird adjusting to the whole pro life and going from being one of the best to..semi average," the blonde shrugged.

"semi average? babe, give yourself some credit. you're way better than semi average. it may not seem like that right now, but you're gonna prove yourself. the fans love you," samy quickly reassured.

"i just wish our program was stronger or..we had something different. i don't know. i know having mack and i on is definitely turning it around slowly, but..still," will released a sigh, deflating even more with samy hated seeing.

"i get it. it's discouraging, but it's all the more reason to keep pushing for that change. plus, you have at least 3ish..maybe 2 by this point days off, try to take advance of them and just let your mind rest for now," will knew his girlfriend had a point so he smiled and tried forgetting about the team and hockey for now.

"i will, thanks. i love you too," he leaned in to peck her cheek. samy flushed, threading her fingers through his messy curls before heading back down stairs knowing someone would come up looking for them if they didn't.

the dining room finally got put to good use again as everyone found their unassigned, assigned seats while the boys helped bring the dishes out. colleen bill took each head of the table while everyone else filled in around them. likewise, the older siblings sat on one side while the younger ones sat across from them—the old and young divide still showing.

"i wanna say how grateful i am to have everyone here to celebrate the holidays this year. i couldn't be more grateful for having all my sons here and colleen and bill for opening this cherished home to us this year," ellen spoke up before anyone dug in. her expression glowed with joy and happiness seeing all four of her babies look back at her with similar expressions.

the entire dinner was spent with loud laughter and stories of the past few months since summer. hockey was the main topic, but samy continued getting praised for her recent win along with the excitement of being almost halfway done with college already. quinn shared updates about vancouver. jack and luke talked about jersey like they've been living there their whole lives and will expressed how happy he was in san jose. it seemed like every kid was finding their footing which warmed the parents' hearts.

once dinner concluded, the yearly tradition of receiving matching pajamas the night of christmas eve continued. it was even more special this time around because hanukkah was tomorrow too. all six kids opened the familiar shaped gift at the same time, wondering what the theme would be this year.

"oh my god, it's all of our teams," jack saw it first, always being the first one to rip through the wrapping paper. he held the pants up to examine it closer.

"we got them custom made so the pants have your team logos and your shirts are tailored to your specific team," ellen explained.

"wow these are awesome. thanks so much, mom," luke beamed, going to kiss the older woman's cheek.

"we want pictures, so go put them on!" colleen said and urged all the kids to change. they ran to the bathrooms or the bedrooms making the parents laugh. five minutes later, all 6 of them were in the new clothes sporting their teams.

"wow, i love them. you guys look so good," ellen gushed.

"i could totally fuck with these. i'd wear them out honestly," jack proudly declared and posed him his set.

"okay, everyone on the couch like usual," ellen instructed. the kids got themselves in order where the younger ones sat up on the actual couch while quinn, jack, and grace crowded them at their feet. wide smiles painted everyone's lips as the parents squeezed together to capture the memory.

"sooo adorable, oh my god. thanks for being good sports about this guys," colleen smiled when the last photo was taken.

"you guys better get some sleep, we have a big day tomorrow. santa is coming and we're lighting the first candle on the menorah," mrs. hughes clapped her hands together in excitement. obviously, everyone was too old to believe in santa, but she liked saying it nonetheless because they were all still kids in her eyes.

"if you hear commotion on the roof, it just may be the reindeer," jim teased making everyone giggle with childlike excitement.

it was nice because none of them had really felt this excited about christmas like this in awhile. maybe it was something about being all together again that brought the magical feelings back.

"see you all in the morning," jack cheered and made his way downstairs. everyone else said goodnight to the parents and retired to their rooms.

samy and will cuddled together in his bed. "so what'd you ask santa for christmas?" the blonde cheesed in a whisper.

"well, i want one of those dyson air wraps for my hair. i asked for some new socks. some shirts and pants. all the usual. you?" samy giggled as she tried remembering the list she sent her mom a few weeks ago.

"honestly, i didn't really know what i wanted. new sweatshirts? more dress shirts," will shrugged a bit.

"i didn't really know what i wanted either honestly. i kind of told my mom to surprise me. i'm excited for you to see the gift i got you though," the girl grinned.

"oh really? am i gonna love it?"

"i mean, i hope so," samy snuggled in closer to her boyfriend's chest. he squeezed her arm and kissed her temple.

"i'm sure i will. i love anything from you," will laughed and they actually fell asleep pretty fast. after the long day of traveling, will was knocked out and samy fell asleep from his familiar scent alone.

the morning of christmas, a very special tradition was always carried out and luke and samy were already awake to continue it on. the two met in the quiet kitchen, "ready?" the older boy wondered.

"so ready," samy grinned.

every year since they could learn how to be quiet, samy and luke had a tradition of waking up everyone in the house super early using a different method each year. in past years they've splashed water on people's faces, blew air horns in their ears, threw fake rubber bugs on people—it was endless and the most fun the siblings had.

this year they were going with silly string. hoping that 5 cans was enough, they crept downstairs to where jack and quinn were.

winter of 2016

"shh, we have to be quiet," luke whispered to his little sister as they crept upstairs to jack's room. they were giggling like crazy with one another in hopes that no one would hear them coming.

their mom bought them the air horns weeks ago, hoping that by asking for them weeks in advance, she wouldn't find out what they'd be using them for. the tactic worked because no one in the house knew what was coming as they inched closer to their brother's room.

jack was a pretty heavy sleeper in general, so they hoped the loud air horns would do the trick. once they blew them, everyone in the house was bound to hear, so they had to move fast throughout everyone's rooms so they could all get a taste of the loud handheld machines.

"we go on my count," luke instructed and samy nodded. he carefully pushed jack's door open where the middle hughes was spread out across his bed snoring loudly.

it was seven in the morning, the latest they left anyone sleep before they set their yearly tradition and prank into motion. luke and samy hovered right over jack's head.

"3"

"2"

"1"

the loud sound blew through the air straight into poor jack's ears. he jolted straight out of bed, eyes wide with fear.

"wake up it's christmas!" luke and samy yelled before hurrying out of the boy's room. they pushed quinn's door open right next door, not hesitating to blow the air horns.

"get up! get up! it's christmas!" the oldest hughes jumped straight up too.

grace was their next victim in samy's room. "wake up!!" she yelled in the girl's ear who flinched.

they ran into their parents' room, jumping on ellen and jim's king sized bed and blowing the horns. "merry christmas!!!"

they were such menaces because mr. and mrs. hughes woke up startled and scared someone was breaking into their house until they realized it was just samy and luke.

they kept blaring the horns as they ran downstairs to the basement where will was asleep. the poor blonde grumbled something and tried covering his ears with the pillows. samy and luke ran back up the the main floor where they spun themselves around to announce the day ahead.

"it's finally christmas! everyone wake up!" the two yelled.

it was the cruelest way to wake people up, but it worked every year because everyone was usually awake within the thirty minutes samy and luke made their grand entrances.

this christmas was going to be no different. luke pushed his brothers' door opened where jack was spread out on the bed and quinn was sleeping the opposite direction. the siblings shared a glance, feeling bad for just a second, but knowing everyone should just expect it by now.

"you get quinn, i'll get jack," luke whispered and samy nodded.

she pointed her fire at her older brother who looked so peaceful sleeping. when luke gave her the signal, she shook her can and started spraying directly in the boy's face.

quinn, who wasn't a heavy sleeper, woke up immediately, "hey, what the fuck!" he yelled which woke jack up.

"woah, what the fuck is that?" they covered their faces.

"merry christmas!" samy and luke yelled before racing out of the room and back upstairs.

they went to ellen and jim's room, not even waiting to start spraying in their direction. "wake up! wake up! it's christmas!" the older couple winced when the substance touched their faces.

"luke. samy," ellen said sharply making her kids run out of the room before they were caught. samy bursted into will's room and she felt so bad getting up and leaving him alone in the bed, but it was also still so fun to wake him up like this.

"merry christmas smitty!" luke started spraying first. it rambled into the blonde's hair where he flinched away, hiding under the covers.

"hey! what the hell!" he grumbled.

"sorry, baby. get up! it's christmas!" samy giggled and ran out of the room to grace's.

no one was thrilled with the silly string wake up call and what samy and luke forgot was that they left their extra cans down in the kitchen where quinn and jack found them after they ran up the stairs.

the older brothers raced up to the second floor and sprang into action, spraying down samy and luke in return for the cruel wake up alarm.

"take that!" jack exclaimed and now all four siblings were having a silly string battle in the middle of the hallway. it was going everywhere on the walls, in their hair, on their clothes.

will and grace came out a second later when they heard the yelling. "take one!" jack threw a can to grace.

instead, she decided to spray the older boys back. they freaked and tried running away back down the stairs, but everyone just followed them instead.

the war continued in the kitchen. will grabbed his own can and now it turned into every man for themselves. counters were used as shields. corners weren't safe anymore. entryways became hiding places. silly string was everywhere.

when ellen, jim, colleen, and bill finally made it out of their rooms, they were greeted with a large amount of silly string everywhere.

"i can't say i'm mad because samy and luke always think of something clever to wake us up with," bill laughed.

"let's just be glad it wasn't water this year," ellen mumbled and decided to brave going downstairs where the war was still happening between the kids.

they had all made it outside at this point. the entire yard became free range. samy tried hunting down will, but he cornered her first and sprayed her hard with yellow.

"can it be a truce if we're dating?" samy said, blocking her face from the string.

"truce. nah, i come to play," will shook his head. the girl took off towards the beach knowing they couldn't spray on the beach because it was public property.

will still followed her but stopped when he saw that she had stopped too. he raised his eyebrow until he got closer and saw nothing but white covering the sand.

"oh my god, it snowed!" the girl squealed and ran onto the snow covered beach.

the blonde grinned, watching his girlfriend fall back into the snow even though she was still in nothing but her pjs. he quickly followed after her.

"will, it snowed! i haven't seen snow on the beach in so long," she was so happy and the silly string war was forgotten.

quinn, jack, luke, and grace came looking for the two. when they got closer to the beach, they caught sight of the snow and all of their faces lit up.

"no fucking way, it snowed!" jack hurried ahead.

"i haven't seen snow on this beach in so long," grace mumbled in disbelief.

jack copied samy and will. he stared making his own snow angel. being from michigan must've made them have thick skin because none of them were complaining about the cold in just pajamas.

"this is so cool," luke mumbled, pulling his phone out for a picture.

the silly string war quickly turned to a snowball fight. when the parents finally made it outside, they couldn't even be mad anymore because the joy on their kids' faces was like no other.

it really was some christmas miracle.

[wileys-russo]

the perfect tree II m.earps x reader

another little mearps christmas fic based around this request here

the perfect tree II m.earps x reader

"-yes mum i'll be there on the wednesday." you sighed, shuddering as a shiver ran down your spine as a singular icy drop of water slipped down your neck from one of the branches above you.

"-yes dad i'll be there on the tuesday. because i still have a few things to wrap up here!" mary groaned, catching herself as her footing slipped on the icy ground, the small trip worsening her already stressed mood.

"can we talk about this later? i'm trying to pick a tree mum." you requested withholding the urge to snap at her millions of questions, still trying to survey the trees around you for the 'one'.

"i'm a little busy right now, no please don't put mum on! i'm trying to pick a christmas tree up and she'll talk for-oh hi mum." mary paused and punched the air pulling a face as her mum began to ramble on.

"-no mum i will not be bringing someone with me." you sighed, exhausted at the never ending poking and prodding about your dating life. "that is none of your business!" you scoffed as your mum started to question if you were 'putting yourself out there enough'.

"yes i can get the turkey. mum its weeks away can we not talk about it a little closer to?" mary asked, eyes drawn to a tree a few up in the aisle as they widened happily, ignoring her mums ranting about how you can never be too prepared for christmas.

"-no mum i do not want to be set up with anyone, especially not one of your work friends daughters. please just leave me and my love life to be my own!" you moaned, kicking at a rock with a roll of your eyes, though they lit up seeing the perfect tree a few feet away.

you and mary both hummed at your parents words, half paying attention as unknowingly you both made a beeline for the same tree, on opposite sides of it you didn't even see one another coming, a barrage of trees keeping your intentions hidden.

"its perfect!" "thats just the one."

you jumped hearing another voice, peering around the tree and letting out a small yelp of shock as a girl who couldn't have been much older than you did the same, the two of you jolting in surprise.

"sorry, this ones taken." you smiled politely, one hand firmly holding onto one of the branches. "yeah it is, sorry." the girl gave you a smile of her own, hand holding onto a different branch as both of your eyes narrowed.

"mum i'll call you later." "mum i've gotta go."

with that your eyes narrowed even further, slipping your phone into your coat pockets. "i think you'll find i saw this one first." your tone was sweet but your eyes warned the girl off of arguing with you, though that did very little to derail her.

"i think you'll find that i touched it first, universal rule." she also smiled sweetly but her eyebrows remained furrowed together as your eyes locked in a stand off.

the girl seemed vaguely familiar but you couldn't quite pinpoint where from, she was head and shoulders taller than you and bundled up in layer on layer just like you were with the sudden bitter cold snap settling in.

feeling yet another few drops of icy water slip down the back of your neck you were snapped out of this strange stand off and reminded of your age, so with a shake of your head you removed your hand.

"you're right, you saw it first. merry christmas!" you gave her a much more sincere smile, internally hitting yourself for causing a fuss with a stranger over something so silly this time of year, you had a hundred other things to worry about.

"hey wait!" you frowned as she let go of the tree and instead grabbed your wrist, dropping it right away and mumbling an apology, cheeks flushed bright red though you weren't sure if it was embarrassment or from the cold.

"you take it. i don't know what came over me so be so immature over a tree, stressful time of year." the girl smiled apologetically, shoving her hands in her coat and rocking back and forth on her heels.

"tell me about it. but no you take it, really! season of giving right?" you assured her, and marys stomach did a flip at the way you continued to smile at her, a strange feeling settling over her which she assumed was the cause of her next move.

"help me decorate it then?"

you gave her a perplexed look at her statement. "sorry?" you weren't sure if you'd even heard her correctly. "god that came out so much creepier than i intended. i'm mary!" she beamed, holding out a gloved hand which you shook, giving her your own name in return.

"i meant to say would you like to help me decorate it then? it really is a perfect tree and since you've been so kind as to give it up i think the least i can do is give you the opportunity to make sure its treated and decorated as it deserves." mary smiled warmly, raising an eyebrow in your direction, waving over one of the workers over your shoulder.

"mm its a nice tree that definitely deserves to be treated right, but my parents raised me not to go home with strangers." you spared her a teasing grin, a little enamored at her response but also cautious around the fact you didn't know this girl from any other random on the street.

"smart parents. theres a little cafe just around the corner from here, how about we get a hot chocolate and some lunch and become not strangers?" mary gave you a wolfish grin, thanking the worker who cut down the tree and started to drag it away to be wrapped.

"are you asking me on a date?" you asked with an amused smile, never being one to shy away from asking somewhat blunt questions if it meant you got an honest answer.

"you know what yeah, yeah i am."

~

it would appear the two of you had a lot more in common than you thought as conversation flowed so much so that you were asked to leave the cafe since they were closing, both of you blushing bright red not having realised the time or that you'd been sitting here now for almost four and a half hours together.

exchanging numbers you'd agreed to meet up the following day, agreeing you now were no longer strangers you took up marys offer of helping her decorate the tree, the girl having helped you pick out your own shortly after hers was wrapped and ready to go.

which is how you found yourself now here in her home surrounded by boxes of decorations and ornaments, still a little in disbelief you'd only met her yesterday and here you were.

but mary seemed to have a knack for making you feel at ease in her company. the tall girl constantly cracking jokes and sprinkling in the occasional smooth compliment or awful pick up line to continue your laughter, a sound which was fast becoming like a drug for her.

"-oh now this is cute!" you laughed as you carefully pulled out the ornament from one of the many boxes littered around marys living room.

the ornament in question was clearly something of sentiment, a little frame made of popsicle sticks, glitter glue and tufts of tinsel with a photo of a gap toothed smiley young girl inside which you could only guess was mary herself.

"oh look you found the angel!" mary grinned taking it from you and pretending to put it on top of the tree as you nudged her with your shoulder. "you used to be adorable, what happened?" you frowned as mary gasped and instead held the frame up right by her face.

"scuse you. look at this! from cute to hot." she winked making you roll your eyes playfully as mary hung it on the tree, the two of you chattering away as christmas music softly played in the background.

"you have so many beautiful sentimental ornaments mary." you smiled softly, pulling out a red bauble that read marys first christmas, the gold lettering quite faded though still legible.

"what you mean your parents christmas trees growing up weren't shrines dedicated to you? what a crime." the girl tutted with a shake of her head.

"to my younger siblings maybe. i like to think i was the tester child, everything that went wrong with me they learned from and made sure not to repeat!" you sighed with a small chuckle, moving behind to the back of the tree, always stubborn in the fact that the entire tree should be decorated no matter if easily seen or not.

"but no shrines no. i used to make ornaments in school, but my mums always been very picky about the colour scheme of our entire house so anything that wasn't store bought and the right shade of coral or rose gold never made the cut." you shrugged, having grown up with christmas's done differently than most of your friends.

"oh i'm sorry! i didn't realise-" marys cheeks flushed bright pink and she started quickly to ramble out an apology which you were even faster to wave off.

"you don't need to be sorry, please! she's gotten less strict with it as we all grew up, though she still insists on throwing a huge christmas eve party for all of her friends where everyone seems to parades their kids and their accomplishments or careers all round like show ponies, as if they had anything to do with them!" you laughed with a shake of your head, marys face softening.

both of you were far to invested in one another to even hear the knocks at the front door. "oh look! mistletoe." mary grinned pulling out a small wad of plastic green and red and wiggling her eyebrows.

"sorry i don't kiss pretty not quite strangers until at least the second or third date!" you teased. "so you admit i'm pretty then!" mary beamed wiggling her body happily making you laugh again.

"mm and humble too." you squeezed her bicep and moved to hang something but not quite able to reach the branch as you felt mary move behind you, stretching out to help you as your heart admittedly hammered a little faster at the close proximity.

"mary! are ya deaf or what?" the two of you leapt away from one another as two younger girls came barreling into the living room, the taller of the two stepping right into an empty box and crashing to the floor.

"alessia!" mary groaned, rushing over to help her as the girl beside her doubled over with laughter and mary pulled the blonde up to her feet mumbling about how she was a walking safety hazard.

"oh sorry we didn't realise you had company." the blonde noticed you over marys shoulder and raised an eyebrow, the girl beside her ceasing her laughter as you shifted awkwardly under their narrowed eyes.

"whose this then?" the other girl questioned mary with a nod in your direction as if you weren't there. "what are you two doing here? what have i said about using my spare key to let yourselves in!" mary scolded, smacking the shorter of the two on the shoulder who whined and rubbed it with a scowl.

"we were going to watch the holiday and go look at lights, remember?" the blonde prompted as mary winced, having completely forgotten about the plans she'd made with her friends a few days ago, her mind lately being completely occupied by you.

"hey you don't need to go! you could stay?" mary noticed you grab your coat and spun around, staring at you hopefully as the two girls behind her continued to look you up and down as you shook your head.

"it's okay you have plans. i should get going anyway i've got a few things to do." you smiled sincerely, mary offering to walk you out and ignoring the unsubtle hushed questioning of who you were from the two girls who she ordered to sit down and wait for her.

"i'm really sorry about all this, i completely forgot about them coming over and-" "mary stop saying sorry, you apologize far too much for things you don't need to." you smiled with amusement, pulling your beanie on and stepping out of her front door, mary lingering in the doorway.

"can i see you again? soon?" she asked quickly, shoving her hands in the pockets of her hoodie as you nodded. "i'd like that. you've got my number, feel free to use it!" and with another dazzling smile sent her way, you were gone.

returning inside mary felt like she was floating, no one having had this sort of effect on her since she was a teenager, the keeper almost feeling juvenile for her apparent growing crush on you.

"mary you have some serious explaining to do!"

~

one year later.

"you ready for this?" you asked with a smile, the girl beside you nodding and leaning to sweetly peck your lips before shutting off the engine.

"god its fucking freezing." your teeth chattered as you stepped out of the car and opened the boot, grabbing out the bag of presents which the tall blonde was quick to take from you, silencing your protests with another kiss as you fixed her scarf and sent her a smile which still made her stomach do a flip.

"lets do this then."

hand in hand you made your way carefully up the perfectly shoveled driveway, pointing out to the girl beside you all the decorations and recounting their origins often with a roll of your eyes as she hung off your every word.

"no knocking?" "no point, they won't hear." you chuckled as you let yourself in, the door unlocked anyway as you felt the girl beside you grip your hand a little tighter and you lead her further inside the house and closer to the voices in the living room.

"darling! you made it. oh gosh and this must finally be-"

"merry christmas mum. and yes this is mary, my girlfriend."

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 7.8 K Warnings: ANGST! Prompt: Meanwhile, on the other side of the line... This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovely: @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 45: Hold the Line

Love isn’t always on time

Tuesday, December 24th

Christmas at the Potters was always a blast. Sirius had learned that when he turned 12 and got invited to their house to celebrate Christmas after he got a dreadful howler about being a disgrace for the Noble House of Black and getting detention for the prank they had done to the Slytherins.

James had overheard Sirius cry at night over the fact that he’d have to spend Christmas alone in the school and decided he had to do something about it. He wrote a letter to his Mum and Sirius got officially invited to their home for the break. Now, the Potters sent the invitation to Sirius and Sirius only, and he got on the train as if he were going home without telling anyone about it. He got another howler when Walburga found out, but it had been worth it. 

He hadn’t been allowed to the Potters for Christmas next year, and he made sure to make a show out of it, wearing muggle clothes to the family dinner and acting so irreverent that Orion locked him up in his room, after giving him a scold, slashing him with diffindo, and making him write “I will behave,” over and over again with a black quill. It didn’t work, Sirius made sure to behave even worse on the New Year’s event and he got officially banned from December celebrations by Walburga. 

Next year, he was back at the Potters and happier than ever before. The scars he’d gotten (already long gone) had been worth it. Since then, he’d spent Christmas with them, and every year had been better than the last. Effie was always nice to him, and even with how much she was like James, she was still motherly, especially in comparison to Walburga. 

And she had treated Sirius like her own boy since they met. In fact, there was never a difference in the way neither Monty nor Effie treated the two boys, they were their kids, and they treated them as such. Sirius appreciated it deeply, he’d found love, care, and appreciation there and he considered Effie more his mom than Walburga ever was. BIood be damned, family isn’t about what’s running through your veins but about the way you care and treat each other, and if anyone was family to him, it was his brother James, and his parents Effie and Monty. 

This year had been no different, from the moment they arrived at the house, the smell of Christmas filled the air. Effie had prepared cookie dough for their yearly making of gingerbread houses. It was a small competition –Effie loved competitions– but they all had to build elaborate creations (with a magical twist) and then they’d set them all on the counter and have the house elves judge and pick the best. Whoever won the contest got an extra gift on Christmas.

Sirius had won once, but Monty was always adding clever new magical things onto the houses, like last year when he made a snow globe house, with magical snow  –actually sugar– that would swirl around in the air sending positive Christmas words like “Joy” and “Mirth” and even “Happy Hannukah!”, which according to him, was a muggle tradition from a different religion than the one Christmas had spawned from. 

This year though, Effie’s recreation of the Big Ben, alongside the magic stars she had made float all around it had gotten the best of both Mellie and Picksie, the Potter’s house elves. And they had unanimously voted her the winner. She had been really pleased about the results, so pleased she had made a little victory dance, showing off her creation and making it the centre of the table. 

Sirius saw the adoring look Monty had given her as she danced around, boasting her triumph, and he thought he’d never met a couple more loving than the two of them, but he wanted to match it, he wanted to make you feel the same way Monty made Effie felt all the time, but then he remembered Remus, and felt a pang on his chest, since he too wished he could make him as happy, which was obviously a contradicting thought to the first one. 

“Darling, are you all right?” Effie asked when he noticed his frown. Sirius had relatively subtle expressions when he wanted to hide his feelings, something he had learned to do at home, the Stony Black look, but Effie knew that look well enough, and she instantly knew something was up with her boy. 

Sirius turned to her with a short “Hm?” as he got driven away from his own thoughts. “Yeah, I was just thinking if she’ll like the gift I made her.” 

Effie smiled softly at that, she’d been one of the people to encourage him to draw something for you, especially since she knew you’d been one of the first people he’d shown his art to. James had been very offended when he found out Remus had seen his art before he had and complained to his mother about it while they were making the gingerbread houses, which is how she’d found out. 

“I know I’d love it if Monty made me a drawing, and he’s terrible at it, so I’m certain she will,” she reassured him, “If you want we can go out later and you can get her something else, though.” 

Sirius shook his head, he didn’t want them to spend even more money on him than they already had, “No, don’t worry about it, I’m probably just self-conscious.” 

Effie smiled, there was something heartwarming at seeing Sirius like this, he had never been nervous about a girl, in fact, she wasn’t sure he’d even bothered to get a gift for one before, he looked like a love-sick puppy, it reminded him an awful lot of James, except you liked him back, unlike that Evans girl. Talking about that Evans girl. “So, James is dating Lily now?” 

“He somehow convinced her to go on a date,” Sirius said with a shrug, “they went to the Slug Party together.” 

“Really?” Effie asked with raised eyebrows. 

Sirius nodded in return, “But I cannot give you any more details.” 

“It’s all right,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand, “I can pry them off of him later.” She then turned back to Sirius, “You’d think she’d come if we invited her over for dinner with everyone or something? Maybe on New Year’s?” 

Effie knew Lily, she had seen pictures of her and she had crossed a few words with her on those occasions she visited the school for a quidditch match. She thought she was a nice enough girl, but she had never had an actual conversation with her and she certainly wanted to do it now. Although, with how much James talked about her, she felt like she knew a good deal and she considered her a delightful young lady, except for the fact that she kept rejecting James. 

“I’m not sure, she might if Vix comes,” Sirius responded with a shrug, “they’re really good friends.” 

Effie smiled in a sort of devilish way, the same smile Prongs had when he had a good idea for a prank, and gave a short pat in the head to Sirius (which she had gotten a habit of doing back when he was much shorter than her) and walked towards the kitchen. 

Sirius decided to go for a broom ride to clear his mind, James and Peter tagged along with him and they ended up racing around the house at insanely fast speeds, fast enough for Sirius’ hair tie to loosen up and leave his hair flowing wildly behind him, and somehow also fast enough to have his mind be cleared of those thoughts he kept having of both you and Remus. Peter left early since his parents called for him, while the other boys decided to play a game of Magic Chess back in the living room. 

By dinner, both of them had already eaten half of the gingerbread houses they had made, and some other fancy treats Monty liked to cook for the smaller Christmas Eve dinner they always had. Sirius thought it was fantastic since they almost had two parties instead of one. The first time he stayed at the Potter’s he had been so thrilled that he had accidentally blown up some of the decorations. Effie taught him an advanced version of reparo, and the two of them fixed the place together after that.

This time, Monty had asked for their help with the cooking, since Effie had gone out with the elves to buy more stuff for tomorrow’s dinner. It would be rather small, very few people had been invited due to the war and the fact that not many wizards knew which side the other was on, but Effie was set on having the place be as nice as ever. 

Monty loved cooking, he had at some point mentioned that it was like making potions and that there was something oddly satisfying with how a bit of heat and a few spices could make even the most boring of dishes get filled with flavour, and he was set on teaching James, and by extension Sirius, how to cook. 

“Perhaps you could make a cake for Lily,” he said as he passed James the measured flour for him to add, “your mother loved it when I sent her homemade cupcakes.” 

“You did that?” Sirius asked with raised eyebrows. 

“Mhm,” Monty nodded, “beat that a bit faster,” –he said politely as he pointed at the egg whites Sirius had been tasked with fluffing up– “She said she liked men with cooking skills and I asked my mum to help me with it, she sent me a bunch of cooking books and here we are now. James, have you added the cinnamon?” 

“Eh…” James thought about it for a second and looked around the counter. The cinnamon was pretty far from where he stood, “don’t think so,” he admitted. 

“That’s all right, I’ll add it for you,” he said and waved his wand, in an instant the cinnamon container was lifted up and after shaking softly three times and after dropping some cinnamon over James’ dry ingredient mix, it went back to its place on the table. Then Fleamont went back to cutting the apples into small pieces. “When you’re done with that James, please add some butter to the pans.” 

“Okay,” James said with a nod and got busy with his task. The three of them were surprisingly efficient in the kitchen. They hadn’t been like that the first time around, but Monty decided they had to know how to –at least– make soup if they were ever going to live alone one day and had them take an intensive course a couple of summers ago. Both James and Sirius had gotten much better grades at potions after that, especially because Monty, being such an expert potioneer, had taught them to cook with potion-making techniques. 

He hadn’t done it intentionally, but he was pretty satisfied with the result, especially when Effie praised him for being so clever and entertaining the kids with cooking while also teaching them something. He took the credit for being slick with a smile. 

By the time they were done with the cake preparations, the food was ready to pull out of the oven. Monty and Sirius took the stuff out and passed it to James who took it to the table that Effie and Picksie were setting up while they focused on revising the temperature and placing the cakes in the oven. They had made three cakes, a chocolate cake that was James’ favourite, a carrot cake that Monty loved and an apple crumble one that both Sirius and Effie were mad about. 

Effie had gotten some extra treats for the boys, and she had even gotten some Shepherd's Pie from a muggle place called “The Wingmore” that Monty loved. They had a delicious family dinner together, with cookies, pie and baked potatoes. They caught up with each other, and both Monty and Effie teased James about Lily mercilessly. Then Monty mentioned something about having “The Talk” with James and Sirius had to cough it in order to hide a cackle. 

Prongs had kicked him under the table while Effie had appeared a glass of water for him so he could take a drink, and Sirius had thanked her with the soft charming smile of his that made all the girls swoon, James glared at him for it, and the other boy winked at him brazenly. If it went something like the talk Monty had given him 2 years ago when he started dating around, James might not survive it. 

Sirius walked back to James’ room and decided to wait there for him to tease him once his talk with Monty was over, but Sirius was pretty tired from a day filled with fun, and he fell asleep pretty much the second he hit James’ bed. 

He woke up a few minutes later when he felt a heavy leg over his own. He opened his eyes confused, thinking it was warm, but also that it smelled weird. Or perhaps not weird, just… not the way it should smell. It smelled of cedar, firewood, mint and summer breeze, not like books, parchment, chocolate and you. He blinked his eyes open and spotted James’ arm draped over his chest and his leg on top of both of his own. He was cuddling Sirius like he cuddled his pillows. 

“Prongs,” he said softly, but the boy just snuggled deeper into him. “Prongs!” he repeated. “Prongs, what the fuck!” 

James frowned and looked at Sirius as if he had been wronged, “What do you want?” 

“Why are you cuddling me?” 

“You’re in my bed,” the boy responded with a shrug. 

“So what? Don’t you know about personal space?” 

Bold fucking words for Sirius Black, James thought.

“Just shut up, I’m tired.” 

“No, get off me!” Sirius said as he tried to pry James’ legs off of him, but James was heavier, and at this point, he was determined to piss Sirius off after being so wrongly accused. 

“Pads!” James complained. “Just let me sleep, mate.” 

“Not until you get off.” 

“You never tell Remus to get off,” James huffed and tightened his grip. 

What?

You never tell Remus to get off.

You never tell Remus to get off.

YOU NEVER TELL REMUS TO GET OFF!

Sirius opened his eyes wide as he looked at the ceiling, completely in shock as he let the words sink in. He looked to the side, trying to hide the panic, “That’s different,” he managed to muster. 

“How is it different? I’m your best mate anyway, if you’re giving hugging concessions around, it should be to me.” 

How is it different? Yes Sirius, HOW IS IT FUCKING DIFFERENT?!? He wondered to himself. “It’s because of the smell of the pack?” 

“Is it? Really?” James asked, he was annoyed, and sleepy, and not quite thinking what he said, let alone how much it was affecting Sirius. 

“Of course,” Sirius said defensively and pushed James off of him, turning his back to the boy as James rolled his eyes and did the same. 

Prongs knew Sirius would be fine in the morning, but it would be a lie if he said he hadn’t been a little offended by the way he got pushed off, he had seen how close he was to Remus lately, and it wasn’t that he was jealous, but since when was Sirius closer to Moony than to him? Vixen he understood, he was head over heels for you, but Remus?!? 

Since when was Pads so close to him? 

Meanwhile, on the other side of the bed, Sirius had started to PANIC. There was something so raw about the words half-asleep James had said. Is it really about the smell of the pack? Was he using you as an excuse to cuddle Remus? Was he using his girlfriend… to cuddle his crush? 

Perhaps he was a Black after all, it ran in his bIood, all wicked and malicious, cunning and devious. How could he shamelessly cuddle into Remus while you were right next to him? As if he didn’t have a crush on his friend? As if he hadn’t already admitted to himself that Remus was bIoody handsome? With his big broad shoulders and his intoxicating smell of books and chocolate, and a hint of you. With his messy brown hair and his kind smile, it was unfair really, for him to be so pretty and for Sirius to only have realised it now, now that he was happy, now that he had found someone. 

When Sirius woke up, there was a pile of gifts on his side of the bed. James had decided to let him sleep in since he had been kind of annoyed at night and he didn’t want to deal with cranky Sirius on Christmas, which is why he was quietly opening his gifts on the other side of the floor. 

Sirius leaned over and threw him a look while peeking his head over the bed. When he noticed he smiled. “Look at this” – he pointed at a box of muggle Christmas-themed chocolates– “Lily sent it, they even came with a small note, look,” he said as he passed the note to Sirius. 

Sirius eyed him incredulously and took the small card in his hands before turning around on the bed to get himself comfortable, he cleared his throat, “Dear James, I was walking along this Christmas market and they had these chocolates, the adorable elf on the side that looks way too excited to be in a box kind of reminded me off you. Hope you have an amazing Christmas. Love, Lily.” 

“You read that? She said ‘Love’.” 

“Mhm,” Sirius said with a smirk and turned around again to pick the box from the floor, “Oh god is this the over-excited elf?” he said as he spotted a green-dressed short man on the side, he was wearing a very muggle Christmas outfit and had funny features, although his smile and eye colour did kind of match James’, it was like a bootleg version of him. Sirius couldn’t help but cackle. 

“Oi! Don’t make fun of it! She sent it with love.” 

“Not laughing at the gift, I’m laughing at the resemblance,” Sirius added while he tried to catch his breath, James had snatched the box from him and carefully placed it next to his leg. 

Sirius was still laughing when he saw some light coming from a small hand-held mirror he had placed on his nightstand. It was reflecting a small beam on the ceiling. It was an enchanted mirror he had stolen from his parents back when he still lived with them. He had used it to communicate with James on the longer summers, even if he couldn’t actually talk through it. 

Sirius frowned, “You have the sister mirror to someone?” 

“Remus,” James said as he stood up and leaned across the bed, “since he was going to be alone this Christmas,” he added. Sirius rolled to the side and then on the bed to reach the same belly-down position James was using and looked inside. 

Remus, looking as handsome as ever, was on the other side, shirtless –to Sirius’ dismay– and with his hair slightly messier than usual. Even his smile was so wide it looked like it would burst out of his face. 

He waved at the boys and then pointed at a card he had in his hand. It said, “Merry Christmas”. 

Sirius looked around and pulled James’ box from the floor, showing him the exact spot where it said “Merry Christmas” as well. 

Remus then picked up a small pen and wrote “Thank you for the gifts” on the side of his Christmas letters. Sirius winked in response, he knew Rem would like the book he got him. But he knew he’d especially love the drawing he made for him as well: it was a Wolf, a dog and a fox playing in the forest. 

“You made him a drawing too?” James asked with a gasp.

“You’re telling me Mum got a drawing, Vix got a drawing, and Moony got a drawing, but I didn’t?” 

“Didn’t have enough time,” Sirius responded with a shrug. Remus, who was trying to read the boys’ lips and kind of got that he was among the few to get a drawing, couldn’t help being filled with joy at the fact that Sirius had done something especially for him. 

He then showed the boys all the music you had sent over and spent a while trying to sign something to James that neither he nor Sirius got properly, but he gathered something about you getting him a bunch of books. 

“What did she get you?” James asked, turning to Sirius who frowned. He had been so busy looking at his friend’s gifts, that he had forgotten he had also received a few himself. 

James placed the mirror at the end of the bed so Remus could see and they all finished unboxing their gifts. Sirius had gotten a CB radio from Remus. There were rather specific instructions on what to do with it, it had even been charmed so that it worked, even in Hogwarts. 

“Hello?” he asked as he pressed the button. 

“Hey!” Remus replied from the other side, he had a wide smile on his face, thrilled that it actually worked. 

“Oh, that’s horrifying,” James said as he looked through Remus in the mirror and Sirius playing with the radio back in his room. “Like dark magic.” 

“Just science,” Remus said.

“Didn’t you have to press a button so he can hear?” James asked as he took the radio from Sirius’ hand. 

“I can read your lips, you dumbass,” Remus responded, and Sirius started to laugh. 

James frowned and covered his mouth with his hands and turned to Sirius “Pretend I said something awful about him.” 

“He said you’re a smartass,” Sirius said as he pressed the button, Remus gave James a look, eyebrows raised. 

“I didn’t–” he started and took back the radio, snatching it from Sirius with a lot more purpose, “I didn’t say that! He made that up.” 

“Why would I make that up?” Sirius said innocently. 

“To fuck with me.” 

Remus started to laugh from the other side, and then pressed the button, “What else did you get?” 

Sirius pulled another box while James started to play with the different buttons of the radio, “Read this first,” the longer-haired boy said as he passed the instructions to James who groaned but did as told. 

Sirius had gotten a good deal of stuff. It wasn’t weird that he got a bunch of gifts since he stayed at the Potters, his mother used to reject most of the gifts, but he had gotten tons of chocolate from girls every time he stayed over with James. Most of them would end up with Remus’ stash later on. This year he didn’t get as many chocolates, but he still got a good deal of stuff, some from people he didn’t even know. 

“I swear every year he gets more stuff,” James said as he shook his head in disbelief. He had been partly to blame since he had gotten him a massive quidditch gear kit for morning practices. Peter had gotten him a magic puzzle that changed every few minutes. Andromeda had sent him some other cool muggle things she’d found, and he was absolutely fascinated by the 8 ball she’d gotten him. It was a ball that you could ask things to and when you turned it around it responded, like a divination device, except with no magic involved. The best part was the ridiculous things it said: “Outlook not so good, try asking your cat”, “Ask again later, I'm napping”, “Signs point to tacos. Always tacos” and his personal favourite, and the main reason Dromeda had gotten it “Are you serious? (No, seriously, are you?)”.

She had also gotten both James, him, Remus and Peter, pet rocks. Now neither of them had a clue what that was, but Dromeda said all the cool kids had one of those with the muggles. The rock came in a box and had a rather detailed manual on how to take care of it, and even a back story claiming that it had been “trained” in Mexico by a pet handler named Pedro.

“You also got a rock?” Remus asked as he pulled one from the side and showed it to the boys through the mirror. Remus’ rock had his eyes slightly further apart than Sirius’. “I named mine Cornelius.” 

“Cornelius?” Sirius asked with a frown as he stared at his friend’s rock through the mirror, “Now that you mention it, it does kind of look like a Cornelius.” 

“Mine will be Lily,” James said as he took him out of the box. It was a red-ish rock. 

“You can’t name your pet Lily!” 

“It’s a rock,” James said with a shrug, “I can name it however I want.” 

“What’s yours?” he asked as he pointed at Sirius’ rock.

“It’s… Bowie.” 

“Hm… love it,” James nodded as he stared at his friend’s rock. The two of them carefully placed them on the side table, as if they were actual, delicate pets and not just, rocks. 

They continued opening their gifts, Sirius was absolutely fascinated with yours. He loved the drawing books and pens and markers, the mixtape that you’d gotten him and the watercolours, but he was pretty much obsessed with the penknife. He loved that it had his name on it and he used it to open the rest of his gifts, then he pocketed it and kept it with him the rest of the day. 

He was helping Monty peel some potatoes –with his penknife instead of a spell– when James decided to tease him about it. 

“You’ve been carrying that around all day,” he said as if it were a throwaway comment while he tried to make a pile of oranges. 

“It’s super useful.” 

“Oh, so it has nothing to do with the fact that it was a gift from Vixen?” 

Monty eyed Sirius with a knowing smile and went back to his cooking. 

“That’s just a bonus,” Sirius responded and placed the finished potato in the bowl. “It’s got my name on it, mate,” he said as he moved the knife to the side. “Also, she mentioned she charmed it, but she said I had to figure out what the charm is.” 

“Maybe she just said that to have you think about it for ages, and it’s not actually charmed.” 

Sirius stopped moving for a second, looking at nowhere in particular as he considered the possibility before letting a short breath out and shaking his head, “Nah, it’s got some kind of magic, I can feel it.” 

James, just to tease his friend, further shrugged with an unconvinced air, “If you say so.” 

Sirius just took another potato and started peeling it with a small frown. He was about 80% sure he could feel magic on the knife. But he was surrounded by magic, in an extremely magical household, literally every single person around him could wield magic, so it was possible the knife was just reflecting the energies from his environment. 

By dinner time, there were some more people in the house. Andromeda, Ted and their daughter Dora had been invited by the Potters since they knew how much Sirius loved seeing his cousin, but she had to skip the dinner since Dora had gotten a fever from playing all day in the snow. The Weasleys had also been invited, Dumbledore had introduced them to Monty a few years back and they were rather fond of each other, even if Arthur was much younger. He had arrived with Molly and their 3 sons: Bill, Charlie and the newborn Percy. 

Bill had followed James around the moment he spotted him, and James had shown him some of his old toys, and they all played a game of Exploding Snap with Sirius. There were other Wizards there too, Alastor Moody, who had a very animated conversation with Arabella Fig, Elphias Dodge and both Seraphina Nightshade and her boyfriend Roan Elmore, whom James had met at the party shortly after you and Remus did. 

“That’s Roan, Seraphina’s boyfriend.” 

“She’s dating someone?” Sirius asked, amused. Seraphina was beautiful, the entire school knew that, but he had no idea she had been dating someone. 

“Yeah, he was at Slughorn’s party,” James said and snapped his fingers and took a pair of identical cards, the cards shuffled themselves back onto the table. 

“Who’s Slughorn?” asked Billy as he snapped his fingers, Charlie just behind him, was attempting to do the same as his brother, but not quite managing to make a sound. 

“The Potions teacher,” Sirius responded as he placed his wand on top of one of the cards and snapped his fingers as well. The rest of the cards on the table started to explode and then they shuffled themselves back together. “You probably won’t like him.” 

“I won’t?” Bill asked, his red eyebrows furrowing just a little bit, Sirius thought he looked cute, and he didn’t like little kids all that much. 

“He might,” James said with a shrug. 

“He won’t if he’s one of the good ones,” Sirius retorted and then snapped his fingers and took a pair of cards. 

“I don’t like him at all then,” Bill said with determination, he definitely wanted to fit in with the cool crowd, that obviously being the older boys: Sirius and James. He didn’t need to do much, both boys already liked Bill, if he were their age, he’d probably be part of their gang. 

“Me neither,” Charlie added, “Unless he has a dragon.” 

“Charlie, people don’t have dragons,” Bill said in a rather exasperated tone, as if it wasn’t the first time he’d said something like that and then snapped his fingers, taking a pair of cards. 

Charlie tried to do the same and snapped his fingers, only for them to make no sound again. “But they could,” he insisted, sighed as if he too was tired of having that same argument with Bill and then walked towards Mrs. Weasley, she was talking to Effie about something in a rather hushed tone while Mr. Weasley struggled to get Percy to stop crying a few feet from them. 

Sirius was about to snap his fingers again when he felt a sharp pain in his hand, “ah fuck,” he said as he pulled his hand from the table. 

“You all right?” James asked, as he snapped his fingers and took the cards Sirius was going to take. 

Sirius was staring at his palm confused, the scar from the scary witchcraft store had hurt almost in the same way it had when the necklace burned it on his hand. It was a lot less visible now, but the pain had been the same.

It wasn’t the first time it happened. It had sometimes bothered him back in the day, but it had never been as sharp as today. And it had kind of stopped since you came to Hogwarts.  He assumed it must have been some kind of protean charm, but he had no idea how, and if he could use it at all. All he knew was that it hurt sometimes, and it reminded him of you, which he really didn’t like thinking back when you weren’t around. 

“Yeah, I think I bit myself or something,” he lied and turned back to the game, snapping his fingers and taking another pair of cards.

James eyed him suspiciously and then the cards shuffled on the table again, completely stealing his train of thought, especially when Bill snapped his fingers and took the pair of cards he was about to take. 

In the end, Bill won the game. He was awfully good for a six-year-old, and both Sirius and James were a bit out of practice. 

“There you go,” Sirius said as he passed him 3 sickles. 

“Thank you,” Bill said, by then Charlie had already come back and was tugging on his brother’s pants. “Charlie, I won them,” he complained as James paid up. 

“If I could play, I’d win too!” Charlie complained, “I want to save for the toy dragon at Whimsy Wonders.” 

“Well, technically, he helped Bill, didn’t he?” James asked, eyeing Sirius. 

“Oh yeah, moral support,” Sirius agreed. “I feel like we owe him for that as well.” 

Charlie’s face glowed looking at them. “No, he wasn’t playing,” Bill said. 

“Oh, but he was,” James said and handed Charlie a sickle, Sirius did the same. “You wouldn’t have won without him, right?” 

Bill frowned, as if about to say he was perfectly capable of winning without Charlie pestering him about dragons, but there was something on James’ gaze that had him hold it. He sighed, “Of course, Charlie helped…” 

Charlie smiled widely and ran towards Mrs. Weasley. “Mom, Mom, Look!” he said. “We beat the older kids!” he repeated. James chuckled as he saw the small boy jump about, and then Monty called everyone towards the table. 

The Potter’s party table was long and round, with different panels that rolled inside to have the food and snacks pass around and stay within everyone’s reach. Of course, wizards could just float whatever they needed their way, but both Monty and Effie thought it was annoying to have the salad dressing and bread basket cover the face of the person they were trying to talk to so they designed the table to be able to have a pleasant conversation. 

Sirius was sitting in between James and Charlie, who was determined to sit with them even if he was meant to sit with his brother. Sirius didn’t mind it much, Charlie mostly talked about dragons, and for a 4-year-old, he seemed to have encyclopedic knowledge of them. While Bill, who was always listening to him go on and on about dragons, found it annoying, Sirius and James thought it was actually interesting. 

He was telling Sirius about the Ukrainian Ironbelly and how he wanted to get a wand with a dragon heartstring core when he turned 11 when Monty stood up and thanked everyone for coming to the party, which prompted Charlie into silence. 

Monty’s speech was heartfelt and honest, just like he was all the time, and while he didn’t explicitly say anything related to the war, he did mention that they were living in dark times, and for such reason, it was time to keep those whom you love at an arm’s length, to take care of each other and to check up on them as often as possible. He said that sometimes even the simplest of messages made the difference. 

When his speech was done, there was a small toast, and then they got to eat. Sirius dived straight for the potato souffle since he had helped with the preparation and thought the amount of cheese they had added was mouth-watering, he also waited a couple of seconds for the inside panels of the table to spin around so he could reach for some of Monty’s special turkey. He had tried it the first Christmas he spent with the Potters and since then he always waited eagerly for dinner time to be able to eat it again. 

He had even asked Monty for the recipe, but he had never gotten around to preparing it himself, although this Christmas Monty had him do some of the garlic mincing and spices blending for him, so he learned all the techniques. Sirius was more than happy to help, he found the kitchen to be a relaxing place (as long as it was the Potter’s kitchen and Monty was the head chef).

Effie was a lot more demanding in the kitchen, and if he had never dared to enter the one in Grimmauld Place, he was sure to come out as a roasted chicken instead of with one. Kreacher had always been awful to him, and the kitchens were his and Walburga’s territory exclusively. 

Sirius was about to take another bite of his turkey, Charlie was talking about a Common Welsh Green and how elegant he thought they were when he felt another pang on his hand. Sharper and a lot more concentrated this time around. He dropped his fork and it clanged against the plate. He looked up, worried, out of habit more than anything, only to realise he was at home, and not with Walburga where he might have been awfully reprimanded. 

With the Potters it was different, in fact, Monty gave him a short questioning look, clearly asking if he was all right, to which Sirius nodded. Monty went back to his talk and allowed James to check on Sirius instead. Meanwhile, Effie raised her voice just a little, covering up for the loud sound Sirius had caused and Molly laughed loudly at something Alastor said. Sirius looked around with a small smile. 

Yeah, this is home, he thought as he pulled his hand towards him and placed his thumb over the already faded scar.

“Mate, that’s the second time today,” James said, looking at Sirius with a frown. 

“I don’t know what’s with it either,” he admitted with a shrug. 

“You wanna skip dessert? Go sleep?” 

“Nah, I’m sure it’s nothing,” Sirius lied, trying to push aside the unsettling feeling gnawing at his mind. It had been months since it last troubled him, and this time it felt worse, not even in the aftermath of Mexico when he discovered how annoying it could be, but back then he assumed it was just the healing process, he didn’t know about Protean charms and, even now, he didn’t know why it was happening, perhaps then he would have reacted faster. 

Regardless of the uneasiness, Sirius intended to enjoy the dinner, and he did, in between eating, joking with James and hearing Charlie talk about dragons, he was distracted from the pain so often that by the time he went to sleep, he had almost completely forgotten about the discomfort. That was until he actually fell asleep. 

In his dream, Sirius found himself in an eerie scene, surrounded by his family, yours, Evan, Arkalis, and even the Dark Lord. Regulus was speaking to him, then he cast a hex on his brother, and suddenly they were torturing Muggles. That’s when he realised he wasn’t himself; he was seeing things through your eyes as if you had lent them to him.

He saw his cousin Bella and then your friend, Nina who was being tortured with an unforgivable. That’s when you reacted, there was a fire. Not any fire, Fiendfyre. The massive Chimera you created was burning everything in its wake. Chaos ensued, lives were lost, and you fled.

He saw how you ran alongside Nina until you were further enough away, but Lucius showed up out of nowhere. You duelled him, almost won, but Nina was hit by a stunning spell and you lost it, throwing yourself over her and crying, desperate to bring her back, but she wasn’t responding. There was a blinding light and he heard Barty’s voice.

“Sirius!” a voice called from a distance. “SIRIUS!”

He jolted awake, with a confused gaze as if trying to get back to reality, “James?” 

“You’ve been muttering Vixen’s name over and over, and you’re sweating,” James said, his hand on Sirius’s forehead. “I think you were having a nightmare.”

Sirius frowned, his pulse fast and his breathing short, still struggling to ground himself. The dream had felt so real as if he really had been you, as if he really had gone through all that stuff, perhaps he had drunk too much of that Dragon Wine after listening to Charlie go on and on about how the process of slowly heating the conserve with dragon breath was “so fascinating”. 

It’s not that he didn’t think it was interesting, but no matter what you said, Charlie found a way to connect it with dragons and after a while, it did get dizzying.  

“Yeah, it was awful,” Sirius admitted. “Thank Merlin it was just a dream.”

James nodded and threw himself next to Sirius, taking the rock Andromeda had given him and tossing it from hand to hand. Back when they were smaller, James would sleep with Sirius whenever he had a nightmare. It reminded Sirius of Reggie and he always felt a lot more at ease when he wasn’t alone on the bed. He didn’t do it much anymore, Sirius’ nightmares had decreased, and he had also gotten a lot better at hiding when he had some. 

“I’ll go take piss,” Sirius said as he stood up. James threw him a side glance and watched his friend walk all the way to the bathroom attentively. He wasn’t sure when had been the last time Sirius had had such a distressing nightmare, and the fact that it had to do with you, must have been even more upsetting. 

He understood it much better now that he had Lily, he wanted to protect her more than anything in this world and the thought of something, anything, happening to her was enough to make his bIood run cold. He was scared of things happening to her, and he assumed Sirius must have been just as scared of things happening to you. Especially with how things were now. At least you were a pure-bIood, not as much of a target for deatheaters as Lily was. 

In truth, James had sent notes to Lily every day since he got home, not because he missed her so dreadfully that he couldn’t go a day without talking to her –which was also kind of true- but because he was terrified he wouldn’t see her again. There were rumours of death eaters going for muggle-borns now. And James had read about a student from 2nd year disappearing along with her family last month. Nobody knew where Jane Bishop and her parents were. 

Sirius walked towards the bathroom as quietly as possible, he didn’t know the time, but he didn’t want to wake up anybody by accident either. He went straight to the sink and tried to wash the sweat off his face, letting some of the water pool in the sink to be able to clean his neck better. When he dug his hand into the water, is when he realised things hadn’t been just a nightmare.

He felt like he had been hit in the stomach and stumbled back a couple of steps until his back crashed against the back wall, then he saw Barty right in front of him, throwing a stunning spell at his face. He didn’t move, but the bathroom dissolved behind him and he appeared to be sitting in the snow, looking up at the Shrieking Shack, completely surrounded by snow. His eyes, although actually opened, slowly closing and opening again. 

One moment he was there, and the next, he saw James crouching right in front of him, with a concerned expression. 

“It wasn’t a dream,” Sirius managed to mumble. 

“What?” 

“It wasn’t a dream!” he repeated a little louder, grabbing onto the towel rack to stand back up again, James helped pull him up and he bolted out of the bathroom. 

James looked at his friend and waved his wand over the mess, all things slowly going back into place, the faucet closing and the sink emptying as he walked behind Sirius. 

“What do you mean by that?” 

“I think shit went down at Rosier’s Christmas party,” Sirius muttered as he paced around the room, “And it was because of Vixen.” 

“When you say shit went down…” 

“I mean Fiendfyre and dеad people,” Sirus said looking up at James with a stony expression. “But that’s… she somehow ended up in the Shack, Barty stunned her just outside-” 

“Sirius–” James said in a comforting tone. 

“We need to do something, she might get hypothermia if she stays out for too long, she–” 

“Sirius!” James called again, a lot more stern now, grabbing onto his friend’s shoulders and shaking him to get his attention. “Are you sure it wasn’t a nightmare?” Sirius swallowed thickly, his eyes watering as he nodded. James took a deep breath, “Okay, I’ll talk to my parents, we can confirm with–” 

“No!! Sirius said, snapping out of James. “It was real, and she’s alone, in the snow, pretty much passed out, we have to do something. Maybe I can apparate there or–” 

“You’ll splinch.” 

“Damn it, James!” Sirius snapped. “I can’t just sit here and do nothing!” 

“Remus!” James said, looking up at Sirius. 

“Remus?” Sirius asked, confused. 

“He’s at school, he can take the passage and–” Sirius didn’t even let James finish, he had already run towards the mirror and the radio, flashing the mirror with lumos and shouting at the small microphone.

“Sirius?” Remus asked confused from the other side of the line.  

Sirius was quick to fill him in, and Remus had put a coat on in seconds. 

“Wait!” James said as Remus pocketed the mirror and walked towards the door. Remus took the mirror out and looked at the two boys. “What if it’s a trap?” 

“If Vixen’s in danger, I don’t care if it’s a trap,” Remus said, with the same determination as Sirius when he was about to risk splinching. 

“Remus?” Sirius said, doubtful. 

“Yeah?” the boy responded through the radio. 

“Just be careful, okay?” 

“I will,” the boy reassured and pocketed the mirror again. 

After that, there was radio silence. 

Sirius paced around the room, Monty and Effie had woken up and walked towards them. Effie had a note in her hand and seemed to be hesitating to speak.

“What is it?” Sirius asked. 

Effie looked to the side and wet her lips before looking back at her boy. “It’s her mother, Avis” –she hesitated– “She’s dеad.” Effie said as she let out a short breath, “there was dark magic that went out of control, Rosier Manor was badly damaged. No one knows where she is.” 

“She’s not there,” Sirius reassured. 

Effie frowned and James explained to both of his parents what had happened. Monty went to place a hand on Sirius’ back as they sat on the bed. The boy’s leg kept bouncing, but there was no news, neither from you nor from Remus. All he could see was the dark fabric from Remus’ pocket through the mirror.

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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A/N: Work was insane today, so this one was posted as fast as I could possibly do it, enjoy!

Read more Marauders Fiction

[7ndipity]

Long Distance Relationship Headcanons

Hobi x Reader

Summary: How Hobi would handle being in a long-distance relationship

Warnings: none

A/N: Thanks to @coffeedepressionsoup for this request! Which member would y’all want to see next?

Masterlist

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I could totally see him doing this, honestly.

Like, although he’s a very physically affectionate person, he’s also super supportive and understanding, so if your situation demands you being apart for a while, he would do his absolute best to make it work.

Send you good morning/goodnight texts everyday. It might seem like a little thing, but it’s his little way of letting you know that he’s thinking of you.

Texts you his random little thoughts and questions throughout the day. “I like taro bubble tea, but only from this one shop, what do you think they do differently?” “I saw a cat today and called it Yoongi and it meowed back at me!”

Video call dates where you have dinner or coffee together and talk about whatever’s going on in your lives, or just keeping him company while he’s at solo rehearsals.

Sends you lots of little surprises gifts, like flowers on a random tuesday or a plushie that he found and reminded him of you.

He would try to make care boxes, but they end up mostly being snacks and skincare type things that he knows you like from Korea. “Do you want me to send more sheet masks? There’s this new one I like-”

He would love to plan surprise trips to visit you, but he gets way too excited and ends up telling you about them, whether accidentally or on purpose.

“I was thinking about going to this cafe for lunch.” “Aw, but I was gonna take you there this weekend.” “You were gonna what?!” “...Nothing.”

On the flip side, he loves knowing whenever you’re planning to visit, keeping a special countdown for you on his phone like it’s Christmas day. 

Struggles the most with the situation whenever you’re having a tough time. He just wants to be there to take care of you and make sure you’re okay.

Random calls at like 2 in the morning after he’s been out drinking with his friends, where he’s just rambling about how much he loves and misses you. “Just move here, we can make it work. I’ll take care of you until you get settled, please?”

When you tell him you’re finally moving to be closer to him, he broke down in tears because he was so ridiculously happy.

(lowkey think this would possibly spur him to pop the question, but that’s a topic for another day)

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[hellfirenacht]

Wing Man Part 9

Fic Summary: Steve 'the Hair' Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you'll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

Chapter Summary: You and Eddie go on your first date, but the past always lingers. 6.5 words

(1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8)

Note: Y'all get to be a little horny in this one. As a treat <3 Also the poll results said you don't mind small details of what you all are wearing, and that you wanted to dress moderately slutty so I tried to keep that in mind. Enjoy!

Eddie kept his promise. For the next few days the two of you found yourself talking on the phone a lot between work shifts, band practice, and school. Late night talks became the norm, the two of you spending your evenings opening up to each other bit by bit. 

You told him about Family Video and gave him the scoop of which of his peers were renting from the back rooms, and he told you about his own shifts at the Hideout and about the weird things his drunk usuals would say. Bev had been giving him shifts again, which was at least a small steady income compared to his usual dealings.

The next Tuesday you had gone to the Hideout with Eddie, this time with him picking you up and dropping you off after. It wasn’t a date, not exactly. It was just two people who had an interest in each other hanging out with other people. Eddie had said the main reason it wasn’t a date was because he was technically working, and he didn’t want your first official date to have his band mates tagging along. Of course, that didn’t stop them from giving him knowing looks and giving him shit whenever your back was turned. Eddie would carefully keep tabs on how often they would do it, and would make them pay later during their campaign. 

That was fine with you, you were still more than happy to just spend time with Eddie and learn more about him. Watching him play guitar was mesmerizing and it was nice to be able to gawk at him in peace during his set without Steve telling you to close your mouth and stop drooling. 

After the set and dropping everyone else at home, the two of you had spent another two hours in his van just talking. Now that everything was out in the open, that awkwardness that had been between the two of you had faded into nothing. You found that talking to Eddie was as easy as talking to Steve, and you loved hearing about all of his stories from Hellfire and hearing him talk about his music. 

The only reason the two of you didn’t stay up until morning parked in front of your apartment building was because Eddie was reminded by you that he was still in school and needed to get some sleep for class the next day. When you kissed his cheek again before sliding out of his van he made a mental note to beg Bev to go on with Corroded Coffin on a Friday or Saturday for once. 

Halloween was on a Thursday this year, and you had made it very clear to Keith that you were not going to be working that night, or the next day. You had saved up all your bartering chips of overtime and days where you came in when anyone else couldn’t. You had put in your time off request three months in advance. 

Work could have you any other day of the week, but Halloween was yours and yours alone. You’d work Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, Arbor Day, and Groundhog Day. You’d forgo Easter Sunday, New Years Eve and Day, and you wouldn’t bat an eye at Valentines day. But Halloween? That was yours and yours alone. 

It was the one day out of the year that you felt like you could be you. Even after the monster that is Hawkins High tried to strip you of being yourself, you pushed through and came out the other side of graduation with a new determination to never water yourself down again. You worked your ass off to save for your own run down apartment, to find clothing that you loved and not just what your peers told you to wear to blend in. 

If you wanted to show up to a shift on Halloween dressed as Han Solo with a Teddy Bear, you damn well could and no one could stop you. Not even Keith. 

But lucky for you, when the schedule for the week was posted that Monday, your name was thankfully cleared for Thursday and Friday. Keith could handle himself for those two morning shifts, and Robin and Steve could handle the evenings. It’s not like Family Video was really busy or open late on Thursday nights and you trusted Steve and Robin to handle the Friday rush. 

You woke up that Thursday feeling like it was your own personal Christmas. You took your time to wake up, have breakfast and get ready for the day. You almost called Eddie before you remembered that it was still a weekday and he would be in school. Besides, it would be weird to call him before your first date, right? 

Steve had given you a crash course on first dates over your shared shifts. His advice was a mixed bag to say the least. Every time he gave you insight into the male mind on how to act or dress or talk on a first date he would then backtrack when he remembered who he was talking to and who this first date was with. 

“Listen, you got this far by being a weirdo.” Steve had finally said after the conversation had basically gone nowhere. “I guess keep talking about eating bats and fake being drunk and you’ll get the guy.”

“You know, when you put it like that I’m starting to see why maybe this whole casual dating thing hasn’t worked for me in the past.” you had replied. 

Most of your Halloween was spent by yourself, but that wasn’t a bad thing. You started off with a nice slow morning of carving your annual jack o'lantern, having learned the hard way to not put it out early, lest it rot or be smashed by asshole kids in the neighborhood. The afternoon was spent around town, just taking in the crisp fall air and the decorations set up by all of the shops.. 

The hypocrisy in this town was stunning sometimes. Every other day of the year you had been followed by whispers of the Satanic Panic and any idea that something other than the norm might be related to something more nefarious was ostracized. Sometimes you could understand where the fear was coming from, after all the Byers kid had disappeared, presumed dead, and then had come back all within a week a few years ago. Barbara Holland had been killed by chemicals in the Hawkins Lab. There was even the fire at the mall that had killed the police chief, as well as the local lifeguard. It seemed like every single year some new tragedy would strike the small town. 

You couldn’t wait to run away to somewhere else. 

But for now, the day was yours and the night was Eddie’s. Your stomach flipped every time you thought about meeting up with him tonight. You had built up this production a lot over the past few days. You had seen the shadow cast about once a month since you were old enough to go at 18, give or take a few times where you had other plans. 

Each time you had gone, you had checked the board hoping to see the announcement that they would be opening auditions to be part of the cast or crew. But the show was tight knit, and that rarely happened. 

But at least that meant that tonight you could share something with Eddie other than your origami. Not that you were embarrassed by your hobby, but compared to running a D&D campaign and being in a band, it didn’t feel like much. 

You never seemed to run out of things to talk about with Eddie though, during your late night talks on the phone. When you weren’t captivated by his tales of running Hellfire or the inspiration for his music, you two would talk about everything else. Music, movies, the occasional small town gossip, anything you two could think of. You had already compiled a small list of movies that only one of you had seen, because all new relationships always start with “What do you mean you haven’t seen this movie?!”

That’s how you and Steve and Robin had bonded over those first few months. It probably wouldn’t be that much different with Eddie. 

After a long stroll through the town, a quick stop in to your favorite coffee shop for a treat, and a bout of window shopping in the Halloween aisles of local stores, you made your way home. You considered dropping by the high school to see Eddie as the afternoon came to a close, but you didn’t want to seem desperate. You’d see him soon enough anyway. 

As the evening went on, you popped in a few thematically appropriate movies that you watched between doing your hair and make up and passing out candy to kids who came up to your door. You may or may not have saved some of the best candy for yourself. And Eddie. He liked Snickers right? You hoped he did. 

You were ready a good two hours before you needed to meet him at the theater at midnight. You were starting to wish that you had invited him over to pre-game before the movie, but unfortunately you had listened to some of Steve’s advice and were left sitting around in your fishnets and dark lipstick for your first date with Eddie. The only thing you weren’t wearing yet were your tall boots which you only broke out for this showing because they were too uncomfortable to wear anywhere else. 

Steve had relented that you were going to dress weird for the date, considering the day and the nature of what you and Eddie were doing, but he said it’d be too weird to get ready with him. 

You decided that next time would be different. Next year, you’d have Eddie over all day, and the two of you would spend the day carving pumpkins and listening to music and arguing over what movie to watch as you passed out candy. Eddie would probably be stingy with the candy so that there would be leftovers for the two of you at the end of the night, and you’d be giving bars out by the handfuls. Maybe the two of you would cough up the dough for some full sized candy bars for kids with really fun costumes and-

What were you doing? You weren’t even officially dating yet, the first date hadn’t even happened! You were getting ahead of yourself, and thinking way too far ahead. You didn’t need to be thinking these domestic thoughts about a guy you barely knew. 

Get your shit together. You scolded yourself. Let’s try and go on one date first, then maybe have dirty thoughts about him and then I can have mushy domestic thoughts about him if things go well.

You were really hoping things went well. 

After around 10 pm the trick-or-treaters tapered off and you dumped the remaining candy in your bag for the movie. Your hand itched for the phone around 10:30, your brain telling you that it was getting late and that you should call Eddie now if you wanted to talk to him before bed, and you reminded yourself that you’ll see him in an hour. 

The hour could not go any slower. 

“Steve, I’m freaking out.” you said into the phone the second he picked up. “What the fuck am I doing?!”

“You’re going on a date with Eddie Munson to a midnight showing of a movie that has no plot.” he yawned. 

You resisted the urge to hang up on him and instead paced around your living room, holding onto the phone. 

“Steve, I’m serious!” 

“So am I, the more you talk about the movie the less sense it makes.” 

You lightly smacked your head against the wall. “How do you do this every week with different girls?! I’m going on one date and I feel too damn antsy.”

The chord to your phone stretched to its limit as you walked towards your bookshelf and pulled out your senior year yearbook, flipping through it. 

“Dating is like any other skill, you have to practice and actually do it to be any good.” Steve sighed into the phone. 

“I hate that.” you said, looking through the Ms. Maddison... Morrison.... Munson. 

No photo available, what the actual fuck? You flipped through the book, to the club section but there was no trace or whisper of the Hellfire Club at all in the 1984 Hawkins High yearbook. 

“This was your idea.” Steve reminded you as you pushed the book away and reached for 1983’s yearbook. 

“And? I have a lot of ideas and not all of them are good.” You flipped through the book, trying to find Eddie’s name and photo. Why hadn’t you thought of this before?

“So... are you chickening out, again?” You could hear the mild annoyance in his voice. 

“No! I’m just... I’m just nervous, alright? I haven’t been on a date since Junior year. Wait no, there was that horrible study date in Senior year. It’s been a while okay?” you groaned. 

You scanned the Ms again, stopping for a split second to snicker at Chris Morrison’s horrible yearbook photo. His hair was an unfortunate overgrown sandy haircut that looked like a bad mix of a mullet and a bowl cut, with a fringe that fell in his gray eyes. His face was stoic and he looked like he wanted to kill whoever was in charge of the camera. 

A few photos later was Eddie Munson’s Junior year photo. Somehow seeing his face in your yearbook made your shoulders relax a little bit. You at least could confirm that you had indeed gone to school with him. His face was softer looking, and his hair fell just below his jawline.You saw a peak of his Hellfire shirt, the same one in Chris’s photo. He was smiling, well as best as a teenage boy who doesn’t want to get his photo taken would smile. It was endearing, and something in the back of your mind started nagging at you that this Eddie looked more familiar. 

“Hello? Anyone home?” 

You snapped back to reality, remembering that you were on the phone with Steve. “Yeah, sorry I got distracted. What was that?” 

“I said you shouldn’t be nervous.” Steve repeated. “You like him. He likes you. It’s not that complicated. He wouldn’t have shown up that night if he didn’t have an interest in you.”

“Oh, but what if it is that complicated, Stevie?” You sighed dramatically. “After all, the three of us seem to be horribly unlucky in love.”

“You’re telling me.” Steve admitted. “Three dozen dates later and I’m still looking for that spark.” 

Steve had been head over heels for Nancy Wheeler, and had his heart crushed. You hadn’t had any luck in love ever, with only a few failed dates under your belt from high school, and two one-night stands. Robin... you couldn’t get a read on her. She seemed to have a crush on someone, and Steve definitely knew who it was but they weren’t telling you. It hurt a little, but you knew that the two had a bond that you wouldn’t be able to touch. If Robin wanted to tell you, she would. 

Okay, you did ask and make sure that the person she was crushing on wasn’t Eddie. The last thing you wanted was to date someone who your friend had feelings for. Thankfully, Robin had quickly cleared up that she didn’t even know Eddie and therefore can confidently say that she had absolutely no feelings for the guy, romantic or otherwise. 

Steve spent the next half hour calming you down and talking to you as you flipped through your high school yearbooks, picking out Eddie’s photo in each one. There was even a small blurb about the Hellfire Club in your freshman yearbook. As you delved deeper in time, his hair got shorter and shorter, and he looked more and more familiar. 

Where did you know this guy from? 

When the clock struck 11 pm, you said your goodbye to Steve, checked yourself out in the mirror one last time, and made your way to the theater. 

It was twenty minutes until show time when you parked your car and made your way into the lobby. The yellow lights illuminated the crowd of people who had shown up for the annual midnight screening, and you took a deep breath as you scanned the crowd. 

Just for tonight, you felt like you could breathe. 

Freaks and weirdos from all over had come together for a night of sex jokes, aliens, music, and yelling at a screen. The room was filled with people covered in leather, and lingerie and costumes from both the show and other media. There were a few familiar faces, and you spotted two people that you recognized from the shadow cast in the corner. They looked... upset. Not at each other, you recognized the way they were talking to each other. You and Steve and Robin had given each other the same looks before when Keith had fucked up the schedule or a customer pissed one of you off. 

Whatever was the matter, the two quickly finished their bitch session and made their way back into the theater. You wondered what that was about, but didn’t have time to think about it too hard because a hand fell on your shoulder. 

Your breath caught in your throat when you turned around to see your date. Eddie’s hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, which really showed his jawline and really long neck you wondered what the square of his jaw would feel like against your lips. He hadn’t ditched his battle vest or leather jacket you weren’t complaining and he was wearing a cropped shirt . You had to force yourself to not look at his exposed midriff you’ve never wanted to bite someone’s hips before holy shit, or note the fine trail of hair just below his belly button that dipped into his dark ripped jeans where a peak of blue boxers were peaking out. Did he taste as good as he looked?!  He had swapped out a few of his rings, but the obsidian one on his right hand stayed, and the chains on his jacket, bracelet and wallet made a noise with every movement he made. What would that sound like if he was on top of you? 

A small voice in the back of your mind told you that Dustin Henderson could rent any movie he ever wanted ever forever as long as you worked Family Video. 

You pushed those sudden X rated feelings down, and smiled up at him. “Hey, I’m glad you made it.” you managed to say, tongue tied as you thought about what you’d rather your tongue suddenly be doing- 

Eddie’s eyes drifted down your outfit in the same way that you were sure you had just looked at him. The idea that he might also be thinking similar thoughts about you made your heart race before he turned away. He was now looking around the lobby with wide eyes, taking in all the different people his expression was somewhere between elation and disbelief. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many freaks in person.” he said, his eyes darting around to the crowds of people. 

“You aren’t at Hawkins High and these aren’t children.” you said, watching his expression. “It’s why I like coming here each month. I get to meet people who are more like me.”

Eddie took in the scene, and you took in Eddie. Horny thoughts aside, you wondered how often he got to see people who weren’t cut from the standard Hawkins cookie cutter. From what he’d told you during your late night calls, his social circle was tiny. His only friends were in Hawkins, except for one Ronnie Ecker. 

You had escaped the monster that was Hawkins High School, even if you were still stuck in the beast of a town. You didn’t have much room to judge his smaller group when Steve and Robin were the only ones who you reliably hung out with on a regular basis. Even then, you knew that the two of them had a connection that went deeper than just coworkers and people who went to school together. 

Did Eddie have someone that he connected with the same way Robin and Steve did? There were so many things about him that you still wanted to know about him. 

A voice called your name, and your eyes lit up as you saw Robin and Steve walking over to the two of you. Excitement then shifted to confusion, wait, what were they doing here? Did they come here to crash your date? That didn’t seem right, not after Steve had put in so much effort into making sure that this date actually happened. 

You and Robin hugged and Steve gave a slightly awkward hello. Eddie was looking between you and your two friends, looking just as confused as you felt. 

“Hey, Robin!” you said, trying to figure out what was going on. “What are you guys doing here?”

“You invited us a month ago, remember?” Robin asked. “You made a big deal about dragging us to the Halloween showing this year and Steve and I got tickets. But don’t worry! We know this is a date so me and Steve are going to sit at the opposite side of the theater and make sure that we don’t bother you. Of course, Steve said that we shouldn’t come but we had already bought the tickets and I wanted to come and see this again.”

Oh... oh shit. Right. You had done that, hadn’t you? Before you and Steve had even started this whole thing, you had been bugging him to come see it with you. Robin had come and done it once with you earlier at the end of Summer, but Steve hadn’t been able to make it. 

In a sea of lingerie, leather, and sequins, Steve stood out like a sore thumb in his yellow sweater and tall hair. For once, he looked like the odd one out. Robin had always had a slightly edgier style, and with her sharpied black nails and chain necklaces, she fit right in. 

You were going to give Steve so much shit for it later. 

“Look, I didn’t expect us to actually come out tonight until Robin called and demanded I pick her up.” Steve said, apologetically. 

“I see what’s going on.” Eddie spoke up, looking between the three of you. “Mom and Dad are here to chaperone your first date.” 

You threw your head back and cackled at the joke, laughing unabashedly. 

“Steve’s the single mom with six kids.” Robin said. “But I’m not Dad, I’m more like the cool weird aunt.” 

“‘Why am I always the mom?!” Steve demanded. 

“Because you have six kids, Steve, keep up.” you pointed out. “But we all know Dustin’s your favorite.” 

“I’m telling Wheeler.” Eddie chimed in. 

���I’m not the mom, I’m the babysitter!” 

“You literally gave Max lunch money two weeks ago.”

“That doesn’t mean-”

“Oh look! They’re starting to tag the Virgins!” You suddenly said excitedly. 

Steve and Eddie stopped and stared at you, as your eyes darted to the two cast members that you had seen earlier. Whatever they had been bitching about was now put aside, and they were now walking around, each holding a bright red tube of lipstick. They had approached some guy and drew a giant V on their forehead. 

“Right, I didn’t really tell you about this.” you explained. “So at each showing, if you’ve never seen the movie in theaters you’re called a ‘virgin’. So, there’s a bit of a hazing ritual for newcomers. They call it the Virgin Sacrifice here. Basically, they draw a V on your forehead, and then before the show starts they’ll have the Virgins come up on stage, do some sort of dare or task, and then the movie starts.”

“How bad is it?” Steve asked as Robin grabbed his arm and started dragging him to the cast members. 

“It’s usually not that bad.” You said. “When I was a Virgin Sacrifice a few years ago they had me ‘Pledge Allegiance to the Lips’ and taught me how to do the Time Warp on stage while the sprayed me with silly string.” 

“When I went they had all of us blow up a bunch of red balloons and then hit them with thumb tacks when they were still in our mouths.” Robin laughed. “They called it ‘The Great Cherry Popping’.”

“Oh my God, I remember that one guy had crazy lung capacity and blew up like, ten in a row!” you cackled. 

“What do you think they’ll have us do?” Eddie asked, and for a second your brain froze as you felt his hand wrap around yours as you started to approach the cast members. You could feel the metal of his rings, warmed by his skin, pressing into yours. 

“They always mix it up every month so it’s hard to say.” you said. “But they always go crazy for the Virgin Sacrifices on Halloween.” 

“Got a fresh Virgin for you!” Robin says, shoving Steve in front of the Columbia actress who looked Steve up and down as if she were going to eat him. 

“Aww, a cute little Virgin just for me?!” she squealed. “You shouldn’t have! Come here, Big Boy.”

Steve didn’t have much time to react as a large V was placed on his forehead with the lipstick. He didn’t seem to mind, however, when Columbia leaned over and gave him a big kiss on the cheek, leaving a large lipstick stain. 

“You know, maybe I’m seeing the appeal of this.” He said as you pushed Eddie up next. 

“A two for one deal for ya, Columbia!” you said proudly. 

“Two?!” Her eyes lit up, and you could tell that she was having the time of her life. “Is it my birthday?!” 

She looked at Eddie and pushed his bangs back as she drew the V on his forehead and gave him a smooch on the cheek as well. You could already tell what Steve was thinking when he looked at you. Probably something like It’s not normal to let another girl kiss your date or something like that. And okay, fine, you were planning on wiping the lipstick off of Eddie’s face before you went in for the kiss tonight, but you didn’t see any reason to be jealous. You knew exactly what was going to happen tonight. Hell, when you first came you ended the night with three different lipstick marksI Really, Steve and Eddie were getting stiffed tonight. Besides, Eddie hadn’t given you any reason to not trust him, and why start anything if you didn’t trust a guy?

“His name is Eddie.” you offered up and Steve gave you another look that you translated to Are you wing manning your own date?! You ignored it. 

“What a coincidence! My boyfriend’s name is Eddie!” Columbia said excitedly. “You two even have the same leather jacket! Do you also ride a motorcycle?”

To your delight, Eddie didn’t miss a beat. “Not yet, but I might one day. Just a van for now.”

“Ohh, I bet a lot of fun happens in the back of your van.” she winked, and you could see a slight blush spread across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “You should come join me and my Eddie for dinner next week, we’re having Meat Loaf!” 

You and Robin burst into a fit of giggles at the joke, as Eddie and Steve made eye contact for a moment and just shrugged at each other. Columbia gave Robin a wink and sauntered off to another group with their own Virgin to sacrifice.

With your Virgins freshly marked, snacks in hand,  and the doors to the theater opening, you parted ways with Steve and Robin as they made their way to the front row and you made your way to the back with Eddie. 

“The back row has my favorite call and response.” you explained as the two of you made your way to an open pair of seats. “And there are a lot of lines that are standard with every show, but if you can think of a good one, don’t even hesitate. Just call it out, okay? I’ll also warn you when people are about to start throwing things.”

“So, this is a bad movie where we are encouraged to yell and throw things?” Eddie asked, a wide grin on his face. “And where we sit depends on what we say?”

“Yes, it’s complete chaos.” you said. “I love it. Every show is always a little different because of the audience participation. Keeps it fresh, you know? Also, if you sit in the back you won’t get popcorn on your hair.” 

“Jeff dumped a bucket of popcorn in my hair once.” Eddie said. “It took me a week to get all the kernels out.”

“How the hell did that happen?!”

“I was sitting down, he was walking over with popcorn to bribe me for some roll, and then there was popcorn and butter everywhere.”

“I take it you didn’t give him the advantage he wanted?” you giggled. 

“No, he desiccated a snack in front of the Dungeon Master. He’s lucky I didn’t kill his character off when that happened.”

“The more I hear you talk about Hellfire, the more I wish I had been able to join in school.” you sighed. “You always sound like you have so much fun.”

“You... sometimes I do run some one-shots.” Eddie said, messing with one of his rings. “I haven’t done a game for beginners in a while but I could get the others to suck it up and run one for you.”

A warmth burned in your cheeks and you smiled at him. “Really? You’d run a game for me just so I could play?”

“Oh yeah, but just so you know, your movie isn’t the only thing that has its own hazing ritual.” Eddie smiled at you. “I tend to go extra hard on new players, just to make sure that they’re really up for the challenge of being in Hellfire.” 

You can go extra hard on me. You just barely managed to keep that as an inside thought with the way he was looking at you with those intense doe eyes. You definitely didn’t miss the subtle way his eyes darted to your lips for just a split second. 

Oh, you were so going to kiss him tonight. Not yet, not right now. If you went in for the kiss now, you just knew that you wouldn’t want to stop kissing him. And as much as you wouldn’t mind that, you also really wanted to share this experience with him. 

“So, is that a Hellfire thing, or a you thing?” you asked. “Did any former Dungeon Masters have hazing rituals, or are you just that sadistic?” 

“Chris didn’t need to haze anyone, if that’s what you’re asking.” Eddie said. “Hard to haze new players if he never let anyone new play.”

“Touche.” 

“He was actually in the theater program the last semester he was with Hellfire.” Eddie said suddenly, as if he had just remembered. “He got roped into doing backstage work for the Spring play and ran Hellfire into the ground. He’d always change the schedule of when we could meet up, and then get pissed with everyone when he couldn’t keep up.”

“I heard that doing tech for the shows is always a lot of work.” you said. “But it really sucks that he got pissed.”

“He ended up fully quitting Hellfire halfway through the semester, and that’s when I took over.” Eddie explained. “I had already been running the club anyway, but that just made it more official.” 

The lights in the theater flickered on and off, signaling the start of the show. 

“They’ll probably call you up to be part of the Virgin Sacrifice.” you said. “If you want to back out, no judgment. Your hair covers your shame, so you could probably duck out”

“I’ll do it.” Eddie said. “It’s only fair, if I run a one-shot for you and refuse to go easy on you, the least I can do is get on stage for your interest.” 

Had anyone ever shown this much interest in something you cared about? Robin had come with you before, and Steve had to be dragged here but this felt different somehow. Shit, the more you talked to him, the more you were tempted to ask him to leave the theater right now and show you the back of his van. 

“You know, I really always wanted to be part of the shadow cast.” you explained. “I’d love to be on stage as Columbia or Janet, hell I’d even love to be Riff Raff.”

“You want to be on stage in your underwear once a month?” Eddie raised an eyebrow. 

“It looks fun, but they never have auditions. It’s a pretty tight community, so you really have to know someone to get in. The most I’ve been able to do is sign up for clean up duty after the show. They give you tickets to the next show if you do that.”

The house lights went down, and you waited for the stage lights to come on and for the cast to come up and introduce the show and start the Virgin Sacrifice. The idea of seeing Steve and Eddie up there made you so giddy, and you couldn’t wait to tell Eddie more about the cast. 

But the stage lights never came on. Instead the movie just went and started and soon a bright red pair of lips were on screen, singing to everyone. 

They were skipping the Virgin Sacrifice? You had been going to this show for years and they never skipped the Virgin Sacrifice. And on Halloween? What was going on?

You were disappointed, but there was no use letting it ruin your evening. You shook it off and focused on singing along and teaching Eddie the important things to shout and when. How could you be too disappointed when Eddie was having so much fun? He was a natural, and witty and was quick to pick up on the jokes. 

It helped even more that he was still holding your hand. 

But something felt off during the whole show. There were a few members of the cast that you didn’t recognize, and they were giving a less than stellar performance. Choreography was wrong, the lip syncing was off, and Janet’s bra and slip were too... sexy. You also felt the man with the long sandy hair playing Rocky would have better been suited for Riff Raff.

Whoever coordinated this show, didn’t do a very good job. You felt bad that Steve and Eddie’s first time at the show wasn’t the best, especially after you had talked it up so much. 

If Eddie noticed the lackluster performance, he didn’t say anything. Maybe you were being too nitpicky, he was having a blast after all. Eddie was cracking jokes, and his voice carried through the theater so well even the front row fuck the front row! could hear him. 

As the credits rolled, and everyone made their way out to the lobby, you met back up with Steve and Robin. 

“That movie made even less sense than when you told us about it.” Steve said and you just shrugged. 

“I never said it made sense, I just said it was fun.” 

“I wouldn’t mind coming back.” Eddie said. “I wonder if they’d consider a live band to go with the stage actors.” 

You had to stop yourself from dropping down to your knees. One knee or two, you hadn’t decided yet. 

Robin yawned and you caught a glimpse of a lipstick mark on her jaw. You made a note to ask about that later. “If I’m out any later, my parents are gonna kill me. I still have school in the morning.” 

“Alright, let’s get you home.” Steve said. “See you two around.” His eyes darted down to where your hand and Eddie’s were still clasped together before pushing Robin out of the lobby and towards the parking lot. 

You and Eddie followed behind, but didn’t head straight for your cars. The two of you moved to stand below the yellow lighting of the yellow marquis. You watched as Eddie leaned against the brick wall and lit a cigarette, blowing smoke that disappeared under the clear sky. 

Under this lighting, you had a familiar feeling. There was something in the back of your mind, like a picture that was made of the same smoke coming from between his lips. Every time you reached out and almost had it, it disappeared in an instant. Something about the way he looked right now gave you a faint memory of being nervous, but not in a bad way. 

“That might be the first time I’ve ever felt normal.” Eddie said, looking at you. “I didn’t realize how many freaks there really were in Indiana.” 

“There are freaks and weirdos everywhere, if you know where to look.” you said. Eddie pocketed his lighter and took another drag. “Most people hide it though. I’m glad you don’t.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s nice to see someone really being themselves in this town. You’re a breath of fresh air.” you looked out at the street, watching as people got in their cars and drove out of the parking lot. You caught a glimpse of the Columbia, only catching her by her hair and make up as she rushed out of the theater towards the parking lot. “I... even if this doesn’t go anywhere, I like you.” you admitted. “I want to keep being friends.”

Eddie frowned and faced you. He had dropped your hand to light his cigarette, and you noticed his hand move towards yours before stopping and falling back to his side. 

“Is this your way of letting me down easy?” he asked, and your heart broke seeing the confusion in his big brown doe eyes. 

“No!” you said quickly. “No, not even a little. No. I want to see you again. A lot.” 

Eddie’s face relaxed and this time he did take your hand. He dropped his cigarette and snuffed out the butt with his sneaker. You took the hint and moved closer to him as well. 

“You like me?” he asked, and you liked the way his dimples showed when he smiled. 

That was the high sign. You didn’t even care that he still had a lipstick mark on his cheek, when all you could focus on were those warm brown eyes. You started to lean in, and you felt Eddie’s free hand move to your arm and up towards your shoulder. When he got close enough to count his unfairly long eyelashes, you closed your eyes-

“Eddie? Eddie Munson?”

Reality snapped back into place as you two heard a voice. You looked at Eddie’s face first, and there was an intense look in his eyes. His hand fell from your arm, while you tried to decipher what his expression meant. 

You turned around to see who he was looking at, ready to kill whoever had interrupted the moment. 

You hadn’t recognized him on stage as Rocky. The man's long sandy hair was now tied back and his overgrown fringe still fell into his gray eyes. He had filled out since high school, and he wasn’t wearing that stony scowl that had been his staple all through the years you’d seen him. 

“Chris Morrison?!”

ALSO I think I might have run out of blogs to tag? It won't let me tag anymore blogs for the tag list but you can also find this story on AO3 and sub there as well!

Next Chapter

a/n: This chapter turned out way longer than expected and I still didn't fit everything into it! I had a whole other scene planned out, but that just means I have the motivation to start on the next part!

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Tag List: @k8loo @terrormonster55 @sp1dyb0y1008 @crocwork-clockodile @ali-r3n @mxcheese @josephquinnschesthair @gagasbee @peaches-roses-sins @witchwolflea @vintagehellfire @royale1803 @cumslutforaemond @prestinalove @browneyedgirl320 @perpetualmessmachine @thebook-hobbit @mistonk @cultish-corner @grishaversecaptivated @sortagaysortahigh @halialex1119 @bakugouswhOr3 @siriuslysmoking @pookiesnatcher @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @takemetoneverlandbabe @killjoynotes @maelibo @themunsonator5000 @wheels-of-despair @woodlandsubshrub @ghcstpyre @pedroschka

[yurozo]

time in a bottle (secret santa)

┌─── ∘°❉°∘ ───┐ leon kennedy x reader ( roommates / christmas morning / musician!reader/leon || gift for @its-wolfgangster ) @leonsecretsanta summary: after leon's unfortunate mission to spain, you've taken it upon yourself to get him into the christmas spirit with a long string of presents. leon tries to make it up to you. (2.5k words) tags: fluff, romance, no use of y/n, post-re4!leon, mentions of alcohol. a/n: merry christmas babies! this work was done for a @leonsecretsanta event, and i am so honoured to be included in the list of super talented artists and writers for this!! please check out everyone else's pieces and especially check out @its-wolfgangster they're a super talented writer AND artist!! their stuff is just so chefs kiss. wolfie, i'm pleased to be ur secret santa, and i hope you like this!!! └─── °∘❉∘° ───┘

Leon finds the first on a rather unremarkable Tuesday, well before the first snowfall. Over two months since he had returned from Spain— barely conscious and half-delirious, mind you— before promptly falling asleep for two straight days. Over two weeks since he had finished the necessary reports and administrative work post-mission, only for Hunnigan to push him into a temporary leave of absence for ‘health reasons’. Over five days since he had poured his last bottle of whiskey down the drain and told himself that he had to be better this time. 

Over six years, two months, and three days since you had moved in, threaded yourself into every aspect of his life, and slowly stitched him back together. 

Whatever Leon had expected next in this long string of near-misses and almost-dying, it wasn’t this. A perfectly wrapped box, tied together with a bright blue bow, nestled into his closet. 

It’s noticeably out of place with the rest of the room. Beautiful and picturesque— all tight corners and pressed paper, where the rest of his belongings is usually scattered haphazardly into its approximate area. In a cramped space of wrinkled post-ironic t-shirts and combat boots, it sticks out like a sore thumb. He has to run his fingers along the wrapping just to ensure it’s not a trick of the light, or maybe the remnants of some undiagnosed disease playing tricks on his already vulnerable mind.

It’s real, at the very least. And saves him from a very awkward doctor’s appointment and government appointed psych eval. 

It doesn’t take him long to find the culprit. Leon just follows the faint sound of strumming into the living room, holding the box in one hand like a piece of delicate evidence. You’re sitting there, casual as ever, tuning your guitar like Leon isn’t giving his signature cop-stare from across the room. 

“This your doing?” He’s holding it up for inspection with one hand, the other placed perfectly on his hips. Ever the stance of the interrogator, practiced with years of getting answers from belligerent detainees. 

Which apparently does not work on you. You just shrug nonchalantly, staunchly avoiding eye contact with him. 

“I’m just trying to figure out if we need to update the security system.” He tries again, shaking the box in his grasp. It doesn’t rattle— clue number one. Another hint at whatever gift you thought was so necessary that you’ve given it to him weeks before actual Christmas. “Lots of robberies in this neighbourhood, you know.”

The slightest raise of your eyebrows and twitch of your fingers over the strings. Guilty. 

“Maybe the person just really wants you to open it.” You half-concede, still maintaining at least some air of dignity. “And robberies kind of require the person taking something from the house, not leaving things there.”

He doesn’t take the bait. Giving Leon anything that isn’t directly asked for requires some degree of inconspicuousness, like replacing his boots after they’re nearly falling off his feet when he’s not looking. It doesn’t really help, most of the time. He’s nothing is not observant, and more than a little justifiably paranoid, given the circumstances. 

So he does exactly what you expect him to do. “What if it’s a bomb?”

“It’s not a bomb.” Your fingers pluck one of the strings in annoyance, and the high-pitched squeal of the chord only succeeds in making him laugh.

“How would you know?” Leon asks innocently, even if he’s already pulling the tape off the box. If it’s from you, he’ll go through the increasingly annoying task of not ruining the paper, especially since you insisted on one-upping him on the presentation factor. “Comes with the job, you know. Maybe I pissed some asshole off, they break into the apartment, leave an inconspicuous gift to-”

“Can you focus on opening the damn present?” You finally snap, even if the anger is half hearted. The admission of guilt makes him smile, even if it’s quickly schooled by his usual intense look of focus. “Like pulling teeth with you.”

He just scoffs, finally pulling the last of the paper off and letting it flutter to the ground. 

It’s a songbook. One he had been eyeing at the music shop, only to convince himself out of it. The home recordings of Kurt Cobain, most definitely inspired by his longing gazes and Spotify playlists. The gift is personal, authentic, caring. Everything you are, and everything he is decidedly not. 

“I-” he stammers, clutching the book like it will dematerialize from his sight if he were to let go. “You-”

“Articulate.”

A hint of faux-annoyance flicker over his features, almost too quickly for you to clock had you not been searching for any sign that Leon suspects the true nature of your supposed generosity. 

“You wanted to learn,” you answer simply, like you didn’t just rip out his heart and hold it still beating in your hands. “It’s easier when it’s music you actually like, rather than just playing a single chord progression over and over.”

Moments pass in a stiff silence. There’s an expression you recognize— gratitude with the slightest twinge of guilt. Either about the gift, or for the annoyance of listening to his half-tuned strumming at all hours of the night. Before you can say more, his face falls back into something unrecognizable, before he’s giving you a stiff nod and walking briskly back to his room with his metaphorical tail between his legs. 

You feel unaccountably pleased with yourself. Getting him to quip back with a sarcastic remark is easy. Given, almost, given his penchant for brushing off any form of emotional confrontation. Reducing him speechless required a great deal of effort and was, therefore, exceptionally rare. 

The gift is placed on his bookshelf, finding its resting place on wood that’s been collecting dust for quite some time. He swore to himself he would fill it eventually, only to realize just how much of his life had been rendered empty. There’s no souvenirs to document his life, no gifts from family or friends to remind him of home. 

A bookshelf, dust, and you. 

He hasn’t even bought your present yet. There’s a notes app on his phone, ironically also collecting dust, of potential gift ideas that he’s scrapped over the past few weeks. Nothing ever seemed right— nothing encapsulated the lengths of his gratitude towards the one frustrating constant in his life. The one person who had invited him into your life like he had always been a part of it. 

That’s the part he felt the most guilty about. What could he possibly give you that you could keep without him?

The portrait of Cobain looks disapprovingly at Leon from across the room, like he too understands just how terribly inconvenient it is to have the one person he shouldn’t have wriggle between his ribs and nestle next to his heart.  •,¸,.·' '·.,¸,•

The second time, Leon becomes understandably frustrated at just how thoughtful the gift is, and how sneaky you’ve become at leaving it somewhere you know he’ll find it before he can stop you. Bioweapons and double agents, sure, Leon can handle that. His roommate sneaking around at all hours just to give him presents is apparently where Leon’s agent skills are tested. 

Then the third happens, and the fourth; each more creative than the last. Hidden at the bottom of the laundry basket, under his pillow, and then on his work desk. Apparently you’re charming enough to rope Hunnigan into this little scheme too. 

Not that he’s all that surprised about it. He too has been a victim of your whims— roped into whatever you desire by batting eyelashes and pouting lips. 

A new pair of guitar strings, a model of his old Heckler, and a bottle of cologne join the book on his shelf. Things he’s been secretly eyeing for weeks, and another thing he’s been meaning to replace. It softens his heart more than he should let himself, more than he’s ever let himself. 

And he still hasn’t bought your gift yet. Not for a lack of trying, mind you, he’s been stalking the nearby mall for days in hopes something would just scream out at him. Christmas is still creeping ever-closer, the clouds above swelling with unfallen snow. 

Leon scowls. It’s been an unusually warm winter, which makes his sixth trip to the mall slightly more bearable, but the clerks are starting to recognize him at this point. Somewhere in your shared home there will be another present, this he can be certain of. It will be a decoy, a pretense: small enough to get under his guard before the big present comes and simultaneously sweeps Leon off his feet. 

It only achieves in making him more irritable— at the consistent blaring Christmas music, the swarms of people around him, at your persistent cheeriness around the apartment. Like you don’t know how many nights he’s spent sleepless, guilt gnawing at every piece of him. 

The coin is already in his pocket when he thinks to look for it. HIs thumb absentmindedly rubs the worn face of it, at the memory of his fingers repeating the same motion every time he feels his heartbeat start to double in his own chest. 

Something he can give to you, that you can keep when he’s long gone. Either stuck on a helicopter halfway across the world, or buried six feet under the ground. Something that will prove he existed, at least for a time, and had the privilege of circling in your orbit. •,¸,.·' '·.,¸,• The persistent cloudy weather eventually gives way to snow by the time Christmas actually rolls around. Thick snowflakes stick to every surface they touch: his hair, his thin jacket, his month-old boots. They endure on the box in his hands too, which unfortunately lacks your flair for presentation. 

He had to pack it at work, with Hunnigan snickering behind him the whole time, hurling accusations of Leon being a secret romantic. His grumbles deterred her little, and he was forced to eventually cave to the idea that he had become much softer than initially intended. 

By the time he opens the front door to your shared apartment, you’re already sitting by the tree, grinning like the cat who ate the canary. 

The near-sodden box nearly crumples in his tight grip at your easy smile. 

“Merry Christmas,” you call out, pulling out the final gift from under the tree. Another painfully thoughtful gift, he guesses, if the others were any indication. “Merry Christmas.” Leon tries, not quite successfully, to hide his smile. His present is unceremoniously handed off to you, and his fingers just ever-so-slightly graze your wrist when he does. Your skin is warm, as it always is, and he can just barely feel your shivering pulse ringing through his skin. 

Leon really doesn’t know how to untangle any of that, so he picks the easiest reply he can think of. “It’s no Ferrari.”

His quip only dims his nerves a little, and is barely heard over the rustle of your hands ripping apart the wrapping. While you may lack the careful precision he usually enacts, your excitement makes up for it tenfold. 

“Good. We’d only ruin it.”

Leon’s watching you from the edges of his vision, like staring at you too directly would forever burn your image into his retinas. A small box is sitting in your hands, and the small click of its opening feels more like a gunshot in a painfully silent room. The shared silence sings with uncertainty, and Leon is almost sure he’s going to throw up if it endures any longer. 

A coin sits on the cushion inside, rusted and worn from years of use. Imprinted with the constant movement of his thumb, rubbing over the metal before and after every mission. A reminder that someone’s at home waiting for him, that he actually matters enough to at least try to return unscathed.

A coin that you had given him in the wreckage of Racoon City as a meagre attempt to bring him protection. It was simple instinct, a soft I’ll take care of you that Leon has been trying to make up for in each passing day. You just happened to have it in your pocket, he’s smart enough to know that, and yet he carried it with him every day for exactly six years, two months, and fifteen days since. 

A coin that is currently being held up by a chain in your hand, glittering in the dimming light. 

The silence lingers. A long, impenetrable pause. 

“Leon,” you mutter eventually, “I-”

“Very articulate.” 

“Asshole.” Ever observant as always, Leon catches the slight hitch of your breath that will soon give way to tears. He also knows that you won’t let them fall until you’ve successfully sequestered yourself away, while he feels unimaginably useless puttering outside your door like a lost puppy. 

“A good luck charm.” His voice softens as he kneels in front of you, thumbing the budding tear from the corner of your eye. “To keep you safe. At least while I’m gone.”

Leon spent six years lingering in the edges of your life, trying to keep himself as close to your orbit when his routine was so often upended by an emergency halfway across the world. Chaos had become his trademark, and he didn’t often get to feel the privilege of becoming familiar with things. 

Sometimes, he just wants time to stand still for a while. 

His hand lowers to the cusp of your jaw, holding the weight of it in his palm. Ever so gently, your fingers curl around his wrist, and his heart fucking soars.

“Can I?” He finally asks, nearly begs, because his heart is and always has been inextricably entwined with yours ever since the burning ruins and the end of the world. 

There’s a pause, before a meek nod. 

It’s shy, at first. He doesn’t push, doesn’t ask for more, just holds his lips against yours. Like if he sits in this moment, completely unmoving, maybe it will stretch on and on until the end of time. 

Twenty minutes later, when he’s been thoroughly kissed and properly sated, the two of you are sitting on your shared couch as he strums on his new guitar. The movements are stiff and clumsy, requiring your helpful intervention to get the right chords.

Your hands are pressed against his, and every so often, your lips pepper small kisses along his neck. His fingers hurt from the strings, but it’s a comfortable and controllable sort of pain. One that can be managed and packed into neat little boxes, rather than scattered through his life and inflicted on random and excruciating intervals. 

“I can teach you a song from the book, if you have the time.”

Leon smiles and presses one final kiss against your cheek. “I’ve got all the time in the world.”

[aurorawritestoescape]

WATCHING YOU

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader

Summary/prompt: reader stalks Dave and he’s super turned on by it.

Tw: 18+, mdni, smut, voyeurism, so much of it, m/f masturbation, infidelity, unsafe piv(wrap it up obv), creampie, f/oral, light pussy slapping, fingering, swearing.

Word count: 4,2k

A/n: Happy holidays, @bonezone44 !🎄❤️ It’s an honor to write for you and I hope you’ll like my present! Love you, friend! Merry Christmas!🫂💖

Drabble || MASTERLIST

It’s another day. You’re in your work car, fast food trash lying on the seat next to you. You’re waiting for him, your current target, David York.

You’ve been surveilling him for some time now. Why? You don’t know. For your boss you’re just a pair of eyes so you follow, watch, take notes and monitor who he meets and who visits him and sometimes you take pictures of him, the hottest man you’ve ever seen.

David York, Dave as you call him... or not exactly. In your head you’ve been calling him Daddy all this time. Daddy was a family man. A loving, driving to and picking up from school, helping with homework, building tree houses, perfect dad. He was attentive to his wife, kissing her goodbye in the morning, making her breakfast in bed from time to time, fucking her missionary style once a week in their bed. See? You’ve been a great pair of eyes! You would gather everything you could and send it to your boss. All the information, every minor thing.

Except.. you might have omitted some details. Like sometimes when he sees his wife to her car in the morning his gaze slides along the street and pauses for a moment at whatever car you’re in that day. He kisses her glancing in your direction.

It might be a coincidence, you think. You just got too close, grew a little infatuated with your target and his warm eyes, kind smile and hot body. Maybe subconsciously you want him to see you. Clearly that would ruin the whole mission so you continue watching him and taking notes.

There is another reason you feel your heart and pussy flutter when you set your eyes on him. Every Tuesday and Thursday when his wife takes their daughters to their dance class he sits down in an armchair in the living room, a laptop in front of him on the coffee table and gets himself off. Watching in your car outside his house you have a great view of the whole process. He discards his belt, unzips his usual slacks and takes out his perfect cock. It’s big and thick, a little curved to the side, veiny but not too much. Perfect!

The first time it happened you reached for your binoculars so fast you spilled your coffee all over the car mat and then nearly choked on your spit at the sight of his length. He began stroking it slowly at first watching whatever was happening on the screen of his laptop while your heart was pounding in your chest and your pussy tingled making you squirm in your seat. With his hand sliding up and down his cock at a growing pace, he closed his eyes, turned his head towards the window, towards you, and bit his lower lip. You couldn’t help but whimper witnessing the sign of pleasure on his handsome face through the lenses. That moment you wished for nothing more than to be between his strong thighs, give him that ecstasy with your own hot mouth.

It happens regularly now. He chokes and milks his cock every Tuesday and Thursday and you watch him and ruin your panties. You don’t dare to do anything else right then and there but as soon as you come home on those days you plop on your bed, shove your hand into your panties and make yourself come sliding your fingers in and out of your tortured pussy. You don’t need your toys, just the image of his hand jerking his cock is enough to make every nerve in your body scream with ecstasy. You know every vein of his member, know the way he loves to start pleasuring himself and know his expression when he comes. It’s in your mind constantly.

You’re in your car waiting for Daddy to return with his daughters after picking them up from school. He’s late. He’s never late. You know his habits, his punctuality so you get nervous. Is he ok? Are the girls?

You’re deep in your thoughts staring at the road waiting for his car to show up and bring your nerves some relief.

TAP TAP

You jump in your seat, as your hand darts to your hip but you stop yourself remembering you’re in a suburban area with lots of civilians around and not armed.

When you turn your head your heart plummets to your stomach and you freeze, eyes wide. Him, Dave, Daddy is standing outside, with a hand on his hip apparently waiting for you to roll down the window. He’s wearing a light blue shirt with no tie and dark blue slacks with his ever present prominent bulge.

You try to compose yourself ready to lie through your teeth, and after taking a deep calming breath, you push the button opening a crack in the window.

He bends over and you see his face, his plush lips, a pronounced nose and warm eyes.

You must be worried, scared, shocked but your contradictory heart is fluttering at the realization that he finally sees you.

“Hello!” he says with a polite smile as his gaze quickly scans the inside of your car. You feel embarrassed scolding yourself for not cleaning up earlier and then another fear sneaks into your mind- have I left anything in the open showing that I’m surveilling him?

“Can we talk?” you hear his deep, velvet-like voice and stare up at him trying to control your breathing and your rushing thoughts.

“I’m sorry I’ve been waiting for my friend. I’ll leave. I don’t think she’s comin….”

He interrupts you, raising his hand in the air.

“Please,..” And then he calls you by your name.

Fuck!

You curse inwardly and begin thinking of your way out. You’re trying to read his expression and immediately drown in his eyes.

Fuck! I need to focus.

He knows. He’s known for some time. You’d be happy to say you’re surprised but in reality you aren’t. Your heart starts beating even faster. Is he dangerous? Of course he is. Why else would they need you to watch him?

“We need to talk,” he tells you, “can we go inside?”

You should say no, make up an excuse or just hit the gas and drive away but he’s here and the way he’s looking at you with his sad puppy eyes pushes you to stay. You can protect yourself if necessary, you think. So you make a decision.

“Yeah.. we can talk”. You open the car door, get out and follow him to his house.

He’s sitting across from you at the dinner table, staring intently at your face, his brows furrowed. He shifts his jaw as if in deep thought. The memory of him fucking his fist flashes in your mind and you quickly avert your eyes. You focus on the table in front of you, crayons and children’s drawings scattered across the surface. You clear your throat and return your gaze to him.

“So.. how long have you known?” you ask, making your voice sound more confident that you really feel.

“How long have you been stalking me?”

“Oh great! I’m that bad,” you chuckle nervously.

“Or I’m just that good,” he retorts with a smile.

“I’m sure you’re,” you breathe out and he raises his brow hearing an almost whimper in your tone. You feel your cheeks burning and you scold yourself mentally for showing your emotions. You want to fill the awkward silence and blurt out, “I'm definitely going to be fired now.”

It’s his turn to surprise you when he leans forward getting closer to you placing his forearm on the table and says looking right into your eyes.

“You don’t have to report this conversation. It can be our secret.”

You laugh bitterly expecting it to be a joke. Yet when you glance back at him you find his expression serious and intense. Why is he looking at you like this, why are you in his house? Your pulse quickens as his gaze slides down from your eyes to your lips and then your cleavage peeking out of your black shirt’s neckline.

“You can tell your boss that you failed or you can keep quiet and continue your mission,” he says, his voice calm and alluring.

“My mission…You mean - secretly surveilling you while you know all about it?” you ask as sarcasm coats your words.

“You’ve been doing it all this time so… you may as well continue,” he smirks. You feel offended by his remark and your instinct makes you to bite back with a question,

“Do you think I like watching you jerk your cock twice a week?”

The words fly out of your mouth before you can stop them and his expression changes.

“ I know you do,” a lopsided smile appears on his face as if he’s been waiting for these words all along. Your breath catches when suddenly he scoots closer to you moving his chair and you feel his knees touch yours. You look down at his thighs and his hand flies and brushes a hair strand away from your face. You grab his wrist and hold it as adrenaline is coursing through your veins. The faint smell of his cologne, oaky and deep, his face, his body, so close overwhelm you, and you feel yourself gush.

Your body wants him. You want him.

Still holding his wrist you bring his hand to your face and press your cheek to his warm palm. Your heart is pounding in your ears and you’re about to apologize for your inappropriate behavior and storm off when he cups your cheek and mumbles, “Oh, baby..”

You’re looking at each other for a few moments which feel like an eternity before he shifts his hand a little, swipes your lower lip with his thumb and murmurs, “Nosy kitten.”

You stop breathing completely, afraid to ruin the moment or make a wrong move. He pushes his thumb between your waiting lips and you readily open them for him. You take it in your mouth and begin sucking on it. It’s thick and heavy on your tongue. You moan and shut your eyes imagining something thicker and longer of his in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the pad of his finger and hear his chair creak.

When you open your eyes Dave’s moved even closer to you, so close that your knees are between his thighs and you tingle all over seeing his broad shoulders, strong arms, all of him right in front of you.

“Mmm, my kitten is naughty,” he coos at you leaning to your face until he places his nose into the crook of your neck and takes a deep breath.

“You smell as good as you look, baby,” he whispers and you feel him kissing your delicate skin there while you’re still sucking on his digit.

Then his hand grabs your thigh and even through the jeans you sense how big and warm it is. He slides it up and you stop sucking focused on the hand itching closer to the place where you need him desperately. His lips leave your neck, he pulls his thumb out of your mouth and looks you in the eye again, his gaze soft yet intent.

“Can I…?” He asks and your breath hitches for a moment. You nod.

“Let me hear it, kitten. You have a very pretty voice,” he says, squeezing your thigh.

His touch gives you some courage and you reply with a tint of plea in your voice, “You can do whatever you want to me.”

He smiles and asks you softly,

“Could you stand up for me?”

You get up and he takes your hands and tugs you closer to him. You're between his legs now looking down at him. Even sitting down he feels bigger and stronger, more dominant than you. His hand moves to your belly and you bite your lower lip with anticipation. He slowly unbuttons and unzips your jeans and glances up at you. With his eyes not leaving yours he hooks his fingers under your waistband and slowly pulls your jeans and panties down. You whimper feeling cold air on your wet pussy. He bends down, sliding the clothes off your body and helping you to take them off completely while you’re grasping his strong shoulders for stability.

He sits up again and takes you all in, naked from the waist down, still wearing your shirt.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs as his gaze stops at your pussy and you gasp when he leans down and plants an open mouth kiss on your mound.

Dave caresses it with his lips and bends down a little more running his tongue along your wet slit. He pushes it in between your folds and swirls it around your clit. Your hand darts to his head to grip a fist of his hair and you part your feet to make room for his tongue between your legs.

He parts from your pussy, a string of his spit and your slick still connecting you two, and you whine with desperation.

“Fuck, baby, your taste amazing,” his hand darts to your folds, massaging them and then giving your clit a rub. With his middle finger he takes a scoop of your juices gliding it from your entrance to your clit. He brings it to his mouth and licks it clean, not tearing his eyes off your parted lips and hazy gaze.

“Wanna show you something,” he says getting up and you furrow your brows with confusion and a pinch of fear. He might be dangerous. Having noticed your hesitancy Dave takes your hand in his and squeezes it a little. If he wanted to harm you he’d have done it already, you think.

When your mind clears a bit it dawns on you and your ask with excitement, “is it those movies you watch twice a week?” He nods with a smile, gets up, takes your hand and leads you to the living room.

“I thought they were different every time,” you mumble as you see the familiar armchair and the coffee table with the laptop.

“I have a few favorites, kitten,” he tells you with a smirk taking his usual seat. He spreads his thighs and you glance at the tent in his slacks. Then you turn your head right and look out of the window. That’s where you’d be, watching and squirming in your car seat. You shift on your feet feeling a new surge of arousal between your legs. At this point you must be dripping on his carpet. Dave pats his thigh with his hand and half asks half commands,

“Take a seat.”

You hesitate for a second, glancing out of the window at his car drive, your mind suddenly flooded with images of his wife driving up the road. He takes you out of your thoughts,

“They won’t be here for some time. Don’t worry. Take your shirt off,” he adds and you do as you’re told undoing a few top buttons and then impatiently taking it off over your head.

His dark eyes slide from your face and down to your breasts, your belly and then to your pussy glistening with your slick and his spit. He growls at the sight and adjusts himself palming his growing bulge,

“Hop on, kitten. I know you’ve been itching to see what’s in here,” he taunts you pointing at the laptop.

You can’t wait any longer as well, so you turn your back to him and sit down on his clothed lap. His cock is stiff and big under the back of your thigh and you feel it twitch. Then he flexes his thigh muscles and your pussy cries at the pressure. You hold back a moan and try to focus on the black screen in front of you.

“Lean back,” his hands on your waist pull you to his chest and you rest your back on him as his hands are holding you close. You’re completely exposed and vulnerable, pussy and breasts completely on display for him and you love the feeling of being so naked while he’s fully clothed.

His breath is warm on your neck and then his fingers push on your cheek turning your face to him. His parted lips, hungry eyes are right in front of you, your chest is heaving and the heart is pounding.

He pulls you in for a kiss, gentle and soft at first but gradually desire overtakes your both and you seem to want to devour each other, your tongues tangling as you’re licking into each other’s mouths with impatience.

You melt into his body so strong and broad around you getting drunk on the kiss when his free hand cups your pussy and he begins massaging your folds and clit with his thick fingers, your moans muffled by his mouth.

He drinks your sweet sounds and when he parts from your lips and you both look down at the place where he’s making you a complete mess with his hand.

“Oh, fuck, kitten… look how wet you’re.”

His clothed thigh is glistening with your slick but none of you care, captivated by the sight of his skilful fingers sliding between your folds and rubbing your bud just perfectly.

Your climax is so close you legs are already shaking and you plead, voice quiet and desperate, “Fuck me, daddy.”

He chuckles but his tone lacks humor, “you’ve seen my cock, kitten.. don’t wanna hurt you. Need to get you ready first.”

You whine having dreamed of him inside you for so long, but he slaps your pussy gently and you gasp almost coming from the soft stroke.

“No whining on daddy’s lap,” you hear and your breath hitches when he calls himself that.

His two fingers move down from your clit to your entrance and he easily pushes them in. He starts pumping them in and out of your crying hole, curving them and massaging your g-spot. He adds a third and it’s a stretch but you take it well spreading your legs wider.

His stiff member is pulsing under your thigh and you feel your pussy contracting when you imagine his cock inside of you right now.

“Gonna come..,” you mumble and immediately start shaking in his arms as your walls squeeze his digits.

“Oh yeah.., good girl!” he praises as his fingers are thrusting into you fast and rough, the heel of his palm hitting your clit. Your orgasm flashes white behind your eyelids and you soak Dave’s slacks squirting all over his thighs and knees.

“Yeah… messy kitten,” he says almost triumphantly, panting in your ear, “Should daddy make you lick it all off?”

You whimper, completely spent and his hand slows down.

When your climax subsides and all your muscles relax you’re resting against his broad chest, trying to catch your breath, your eyes closed.

He gives you a minute but then you feel his hand under your thigh as he unbuckles his belt, takes it off and throws it on the floor. You hear a zipper open, and he plants a kiss on your shoulder asking for your attention,

“Come on, kitten, time to sit on daddy’s cock.”

You’ve just come but his words immediately reignite the burning in your core.

You get up clumsily, your legs weak from the hard orgasm, and look back to see him pull down his slacks and boxers. His cock springs out of its confines and you widen your eyes. It looks quite intimidating up close and you worry if you can take him, even after his fingers stretched you.

Seeing your worried expression, Dave smirks as his hand holds his hard cock at the base,

“Don’t be so scared, baby. You two can finally meet in person.” He spreads precum over the head with his thumb. You stare at his girthy shaft and angry red tip, shamelessly licking your lips and he notices, “I’d love that. But daddy really wants to stick it in your pussy now .” Dave takes your hips in his big hands and pulls you down closer to his lap.

Your ass is hovering over him as you’re holding onto the sides of the armchair until his tip nudges your wet hole. You begin sinking down and it aches pleasantly. He’s groaning behind you while you’re slowly taking every inch of him. His hands on your waist are helping you hold your weight, not rushing, giving your pussy time to adjust and accommodate his girthy cock.

Finally your folds and ass are flush against him and you take a deep breath sitting fully on his member.

“Are you ok, kitten?” he asks, his chest heaving deeply against your back.

Your ‘yes’ sounds more like a mewl and you look in front of you at the laptop reflecting your naked breasts and his face, eyes focused on your ass.

He glances up and your eyes meet in the reflection of the screen. He twitches inside of your core and you both moan.

“You wanted to show me something,” you mumble beginning to move a little on his cock and he leans forward. You do too, your bodies flush against each other. You feel him stiff and powerful inside of you and whimper at every movement.

Dave finds a file in one of the folders and clicks the icon. He sits up, pulling you with him and making you lean on his broad chest. You both watch the black screen for a few moments until a video starts and you see a busy street. Dave begins moving his hips and you can’t pay the video much attention focused on his cock sliding in and out as he’s holding you in his arms, thrusting his length up into you.

“Watch it, baby. Made it myself. Bet you’ll love it,” he murmurs as your pussy is dripping around his cock on his balls.

Your fingers grasp the sides of the armchair when he speeds up his movements and starts fucking you hard and deep.

You look down to see him splitting you in half on his cock before he grabs a fist of your hair and tugs on it making you look forward.

“I said watch, kitten.”

You whimper when he gets rough and you stare at the screen feeling the second climax build.

It’s still a busy street and you’re trying to comprehend what exactly you’re watching when you recognise the place and then a person walking through the crowd with their back to the camera.

It’s you.

You, walking home from the local market a few weeks ago.

You sit up watching the screen closer but with his hands under your arms he lifts your hips and uses you like a fuck toy pleasuring himself with your pussy.

The video changes and it’s night time. You know this place. It’s a dark alley behind your favorite bar. You see yourself coming through the back door, a man following you. He pins you against the wall and you’re making out. You remember you two fucked that night, just a one night stand and all the time you’d been thinking about Dave.

“What the fuck?” you ask your shocked eyes glued to the screen.

“What is it, kitten? You've been stalking me, I’ve been stalking you. Think it’s fair,” he grumbles panting hard still manhandling you on his cock.

You’re speechless. The sounds of his hips slapping against your ass fill the room. Your climax is close and you mumble,

“You’ve been getting off on watching me. You’re sick.”

He chuckles as his hand slaps your pussy again and you moan,

“That’s cute. Calling me sick when you’re bouncing on your target’s cock.”

You can’t say he’s wrong and a smile tugs at your lips.

“Fuck off,” you retort, leaning back on him, then turn your head and kiss him. He growls against your lips, close to his own climax. When you part he holds you close and murmurs into your cheek,

“All that time… watching you, kitten…wanted to fuck you so much.” The head of his cock is hitting the spongy spot inside you as you whine and moan. He continues, “Nearly took you in your sleep once… Wanted to slip my cock inside you..my beautiful stalker.”

You come, the bliss opening your mouth in a silent scream, and choke his cock as he quickly follows shooting his cum deep inside your core. He moans your name, his cock pumping all of his seed inside you, to the last drop.

When you open your eyes, slowly coming down from your high, and look at the screen you see yourself sleeping in your bedroom. He’s watching you, lying on your back, with your nipple peeking out of your nighty. The camera shakes as he takes it in the other hand, probably adjusting himself. Then he goes to your mirror. You see his reflection, wearing a black hat and a dark hoodie. He opens his mouth and breathes out on the mirror creating a misty spot on the surface. Then Dave draws something with his gloved finger.

The camera gets close and you see three letters written there.

ICU

Thank you for reading!

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!!💖

After Watching You - drabble

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @bbyanarchist @harriedandharassed @missannwinchester @nervousmumbling

[thezombieprostitute]

Tech Tuesday: Ransom Drysdale

A/N: Written for @the-slumberparty's December Daze Challenge.

Prompt: can i put my cold hands up your sweater for warmth?

Word Count: ~1.3k

Warnings: Alcohol consumption. Please let me know if I missed any!

Previous

The bar isn't as crowded as you'd feared. Usually you spend New Year's Eve in the comfort of your own home where no one can judge you for going to sleep at a decent time. But Ransom had insisted that going to a random bar full of strangers was his New Year's Eve tradition. You probably would have fought him a bit harder but you were still recovering from Christmas.

Ransom knew you were trying to reach out to your family again. That you'd hoped to make progress with them over Christmas. When you came back to the office the day after he saw through your fake smile. He's not pushing for details, part of being a good friend, right? But he can at least hang around so there's someone you can talk to if needed. He'd hoped that going to a bar and picking out potential kissers would be a good distraction for you.

At least until you confessed you'd never had a New Year's Eve kiss before.

"I've told you my parents were...fundamentalists," you griped. "There are some aspects of it that I'm not sure I'll ever be able to shake. Like kissing some random guy being a bad idea."

"Well, what if you get to know the guy first?" Ransom thinks. "Just don't lead with 'never had a New Year's Kiss'. That'll just bring out the weirdos."

That makes you half smile. "Yeah, definitely wouldn't want my first kiss to be with a stranger."

Ransom's brow furrows in confusion, "you mean first New Year's Eve kiss, right?"

"That too," you casually confess before taking a long sip of your Pretty In Pink cocktail.

Ransom gives you a look you can't decipher before saying, "maybe this was a mistake."

"No! It's a new year, it can be a new experience, another aspect of the old me that I let go."

"Only if you're certain now, before you've had too much to drink."

"Aren't you supposed to get drunk first? Liquid courage and all that?"

Ransom hesitates. It wasn't that long ago he'd be the first to encourage you to kiss whatever creep came along, just to spite your parents. Encourage you to be more like him, playing life like a game without consequences. But he's not that guy anymore. Right? At the very least, you're too good a person to be mimicking his behaviors.

He lets out an exasperated sigh, "no. You're telling me now, while you're sober and thinking relatively straight, if you really want to do this. Before you take another sip of that drink."

You give Ransom your best pout and you see him bristling. "I just wanna have some fun, Ran," you pout.

"Maybe this was a mistake," he shakes his head.

"No! You participated in my Friendsgiving tradition, I want to participate in one of your traditions! You said this is something you do every year and I want to participate!"

"We can spend the evening here, but we're gonna both forgo the kissing part," Ransom concedes. "We'll just get drunk and raise a toast at midnight, okay?"

You pout for real this time. "Why is it such a big deal? It's just a first kiss. Aren't women today supposed to be empowered to kiss whoever they want?"

Ransom considers his words. "You're right that you don't need permission to kiss anyone you want. I just...Something I've been trying to work on is reducing my family-induced cynicism. I know from experience that if you treat kisses like they're nothing, they can lose their meaning. I...I want better for you. Better for my friend."

Knowing how difficult it is for Ransom to talk about these things you stop pouting. "Okay," you nod. "Just a toast to bring in the new year."

"Thank you," he sighs, looking a bit more relaxed.

"How about we start the evening with a toast?" you offer, raising your glass. "A toast to friendship and new beginnings?"

Ransom raises his beer bottle, "and to not letting our past dictate our future."

You clink your drinks together and take a sip.

A couple hours and several drinks later you're feeling a little woozy. Ransom offers to go get the refills but you're adamant that it's your turn to do so. He's a bit tipsy himself, you've never seen him smile so much, and he agrees to let you go.

You give your order to the bartender and hold onto the bar to steady yourself when you feel a presence to your left. A tall man in a blue suit leans on the bar next to you. He's pretty handsome, even with the stubble. It actually works with his short hair. He turns to you and you struggle not to gasp at how pretty blue his eyes are.

"Oh, sorry if I'm crowding you," he smiles.

"No, not at all," you giggle.

"You here with your boyfriend?" he asks, gesturing to Ransom.

"Friend," you tell him.

His smile widens, "I'm Nick."

You give him your name as heat rushes to your face. This handsome man is talking with you!

"Got any plans for midnight? It's coming up in just an hour or so," Nick asks.

"A toast!" you say a little too loudly.

He gives you a mock frown, "no kiss?"

"No kisses! Just a toast. Ransom's idea."

"Ransom your friend?"

"Yup! And he's great! Once you get to know him."

"Yeah? Would you be up for introducing me? Letting me get to know him?"

"Sure! He could use more friends and you seem the friendly type!"

"That I am," he smirks.

The bartender brings you your drinks and you pay for them before making your way back to Ransom. Nick is very helpful at keeping you steady on your feet.

Back at the table you beam at Ransom, "I made a new friend! His name is Nick."

Nick holds out his hand to Ransom and says, "nice to meet you Hugh."

Ransom's smile is gone and whatever buzz he'd been feeling is greatly diminished. He grabs your hand, "we're going. Now."

"What? Why?" you pout. But Ransom gives you a look that pierces your drunken haze enough that you're grabbing your coat to go with him.

Ransom's jaw is clenched and he's practically dragging you out of the bar. Risking a glance back at Nick you see him smiling smugly, making you feel even more confused.

Once outside Ransom takes a breath of the cold air to steady himself. The plan was to walk back to your place since it was so close to the bar but now he's not sure. What if that asshole follows and makes things worse for you?

"C'mon," he tells you, taking your arm. "We're going to catch a cab back to my place."

"I don't like your place," you drunkenly confess. "It's so bare."

"Well then I'll make sure to get some interior decorating advice from you while we're there tonight, okay?"

You giggle at the thought but then you shiver, "Ransom, it's cold out here and I don't have my gloves."

"We're going to get a cab soon enough," he promises as he walks down the sidewalk, pulling you along with him.

"What's gotten into you? Oh, why did Nick call you Hugh? Is that what set you off?"

"Sort of," he grunts, looking everywhere for a cab. He doesn't want to use a Lyft or Uber in case this Nick character decides to share in on it.

"My hands are cold," you whine. "Can i put my cold hands up your sweater for warmth?"

"When we get into the cab, sure."

You giggle, "I'm gonna hold you to that."

Ransom's barely gotten you into the back of the cab before you shove your hands underneath his sweater, making him yipe.

"Mmm, so warm. You gently squeeze his belly and snuggle close. "Even better than a plushie," you murmur as you start to fall asleep.

Ransom half carries you into his apartment and you give a little squeal when you see the Sweater Pusheen you'd gotten him sitting in a chair.

"You kept it?"

"Of course I did," Ransom admits. "Makes for good company."

You start to tear up, "I thought you hated it because I never saw it after I gave it to you."

"It's a nice gift and I like to have it around. Kept me from getting too lonely at Christmas."

You wrap your arms around Ransom with such force he falls back onto the couch. He tries to unclasp your arms from around him but you're holding tight so he waits for a few moments, letting you get the hug out of your system. Normally you ask permission but he's not going to begrudge you being a happy drunk.

He chuckles and rolls his eyes when he hears your soft snoring and resigns himself to a night on the couch. He looks at you softly and kisses the top of your head. There are worse ways to bring in the new year, he figures.

Next

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory;

@late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82; @ozwriterchick; @ronearoundblindly; @lokislady82

@thiquefunlover63

[rubyreduji]

(🎤) — most popular , (🎸) — personal favorite

other masterlists

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL

★ professor!seungcheol 🎤

➥ series, smut ➥ a smut series featuring biology professor choi seungcheol and his favorite failing student, you

★ the art of learning how to knock

➥ 4.4k, smut, male reader ➥ seungcheol really should learn how to knock

★ sweetest thing

➥ 1.7k, smut ➥ your boyfriend just wants to help you celebrate your job promotion in the best way he can think of

★ us and the stars

➥ 2.3k, smut, fluff ➥ sitting under the stars on the hood of seungcheol’s car puts a lot of things into perspective

YOON JEONGHAN

★ good to me

➥ 2.1k, smut, sub!jeonghan ➥ sometimes jeonghan just needs you to take care of him

★ fighting for your love

➥ 5.5k, smut, ft. jeonghan ➥ when you couldn’t pick who to date between joshua and jeonghan, you weren’t expecting to result in a fight, literally

★ the christmas boyfriend

➥ 12.7k, fluff, smut ➥ when you tell your mom the little white lie that you have a boyfriend, you don’t expect it to evolve into bringing your friend with benefits home for christmas. what can go wrong?

aftercare king jeonghan x svt play thing reader (smut) 🎤

JOSHUA HONG

★ baby please come home

➥ 2.9k, fluff ➥ they’re singing deck the halls, but it’s not like christmas at all

★ fighting for your love

➥ 5.5k, smut, ft. jeonghan ➥ when you couldn’t pick who to date between joshua and jeonghan, you weren’t expecting to result in a fight, literally

★ hello kitty, you're so pretty

1.7k, smut, cat hybrid!reader ➥ joshua bring home something new for you two to try together

best friend josh x reader (smut)

pool boy josh x milf reader (smut)

WEN JUNHUI

★ charcoal stained hands

➥ 3.1k, fluff ➥ jun falls in love on a tuesday afternoon in an art studio

★ anatomy lesson

➥ 1.5k, smut ➥ you help jun learn female anatomy

valentine’s day present (smut)

KWON SOONYOUNG

★ in front of chan and everybody 🎤

➥ 2.4k, smut ➥ when you and you boyfriend started having sex, you didn’t expect him to be so shameless about it. it doesn’t seem like his roommates are too shameful either.

★ my best friend's mother (is the one for me)

➥ 4.2k, smut, milf!reader ➥ jihoon’s mom has got it going on

★ pretty girl

➥ 2.6k, smut, cubby!reader ➥ soonyoung just likes to appreciate how beautiful his girlfriend 

★ boyfriends

➥ 5.6k, fluff, ft. jihoon ➥ you ask your producer out. too bad he already has a boyfriend, or is it?

★ feels so good 🎸

➥ 3.6k, smut, trans male reader ➥ you and soonyoung wake up, and have sex. that simple really.

★ birthday presents for a tiger 🎸

➥ 3.1k, smut ➥ it’s your neighbor’s birthday, you decide to give him a gift

soonyoung somnophilia drabble (smut)

rainy day thoughts (fluff)

fanboy hoshi (fluff) 🎸

giving soonyoung head (smut)

JEON WONWOO

★ the story of us

➥ 3.6k, angst w/ a happy ending ➥ now i’m standing alone in a crowded room and we’re not speaking…

★ good to be bad

➥ 10.2k, fluff, descendsnts!au, ft. mingyu ➥ moving to auradon brings many new things, good and bad

★ work husband

➥ 1.7k, fluff, ft. mingyu ➥ your two coworkers get a bit too involved in becoming your “work husband”

★ the peephole 🎤

➥ 5.0k, smut ➥ wonwoo can’t stop thinking about how he wants to ruin his roommate, the peephole in his wall isn’t helping tamper those desires either

perv wonwoo x roommate reader (smut) 🎤

perv wonwoo x roommate reader pt 2 (smut)

perv wonwoo x roommate reader pt 3 (smut)

getting a tattoo of another member's initials (reaction, suggestive)

[wyervan]

I'm crocheting a beanie for my bf for christmas and his head is HUGE, big-brain ass 😭 any y/n lore you could share to occupy my mind while I work? :3 (slasher au ofc)

ooh! ive made many an xmas beanie in my day! usually knit tho. manifesting your tension is even and you don’t have to play yarn chicken because of his big melon ✨.

I’m glad you asked this bc I’ve been thinking a lot about my y/n character for the slasher AU!

They’re a 20-smth who just moved out to the area, probably just to prove to themself that they could even make a decision like that and follow through with it. They’re not picky about finding a job, so they jump on the first thing that looks half-way interesting and not too difficult—a local arcade is hiring. The man on the phone sure is excited! Apparently the listing’s been up for a whole three weeks and no one’s has applied? Weird, but they have an interview the very next Tuesday at 9 am.

Interview goes well, if a bit overwhelming. Their new boss is quite the character, that much is obvious from the get-go. And apparently there’s another they haven’t met yet… until their first day on the job and damn, well that could have been a better first introduction! They didn’t know the guy was there sleeping! Who does that!?

Aw well, things are pretty good for them all things considered. They make enough to afford rent for a small unit above a cigar shop and spend their evenings playing their xbox on their 24 inch CRT or blasting heavy shoegaze CDs. The morning of their first day, their boss Sun had given them a name tag that read “Star” and had referred to them by the nickname almost exclusively since. Truly one of the team. And Star finds they like the sense of belonging that comes with it.

[inkdemonapologist]

!!!!!!!!!!! New Cthulhu Season has started!! this time featuring:

The band at our fancy party started playing a song that Sammy INSTANTLY recognised as his own improv, played a year and some change ago from the balcony of a New Orleans hotel to calm his nerves, which really should not be turning up perfectly replicated here and unsettled him so much that he ended up trying to communicate this to Jack in the LEAST CLEAR WAY IMAGINABLE

we got a supernatural partycrasher at the fancy party which means wE GOT PROPHET IN A SUIT!!! FANCY PROPHET FOR JUST A FEW MINUTES!! his previously prophesied warning of what was to come included the phrase "a report that silences the tongue of ythill," which is apparently what this was, and he got SO EXCITED about the appearance of this weird man making people bleed from the eyes that he booted Sammy from the front to take it all in. THE TIME IS FINALLY AT HAND!!!

i also have a lil smattering of out-of-context quotes from session 1 if ur into that sort of thing: here under the cut!

[Sammy is played by me, Joey is played by Boo (inkyvendingmachine), Henry is played by Maf (inkcryptid), Jack is played by Mochi (whatyouwantedmetosee) and Thren (haunted-hijinxer) is our GM!]

[Jack] Aw, there's no snow in the year before, so probably no snowball fights for Christmas, [GM] Well, we can invent our own, that's fine. [Sammy] It's the ONE difference! IDENTICAL TO OUR WORLD, except for on December 25th there was snow, don't worry about it. [GM] And tape recorders! [Sammy] There's tape recorders, and there was snow on December 25th, 1934. [Sammy] AND ALSO CTHULHU IS REAL. But other than that it's exactly the same. [GM] That's it, just those little things. [Henry] A minor detail.

[GM] Another question: Christmas is on a Tuesday, does the Studio get days off? [Joey] In the Cthulhu universe, yes… And It's All Henry's Fault.

[Jack] Anyone who failed their Sanity gain checks in '35 -- it's the anticipation. [Sammy] Yeah, it's just driving you absolutely bonkers that this prophecy still hasn't happened, can it go ahead and get it over with? I hate having this hanging over my head! [Sammy] And if you PASS your sanity check, and gained sanity, it could be that you're just INCREASINGLY IN DENIAL. Like, you know what? Maybe he forgot!

[Jack] Jack's the most likely to keep up with these poor people we keep roping into our nonsense! [Joey] Hey, HEY! [Jack] "Welcome to the group! You're only here for a little bit, but have some trauma! Trauma for you! And trauma for you! BYE"

[Sammy] We're like Absol. We're not CAUSING the trouble, but it IS in our wake, constantly. [Jack] Absol is 100% a modern teenage Joey Drew's fursona. [Joey] ….Yeah…

[Henry] Is it an easier apartment to get to, for Joey, than the one he has? [Joey] That is a really good question. [GM] It has ONE flight of stairs, but it doesn't have ten zillion flights, so I mean, it's better, probably! It DID have an evil ritual in it,

[Jack] *reading the inflation calculator* $1,000 in 1935 is… 22 thousand.. and a half… dollars????? [Joey] GREAT! *claps* STUDIO'S FUNDED! :D [Jack] Joey, no, [Sammy] You can do that with YOUR money, [Joey] I mean, that IS what's going to happen to Joey's money, Joey's just going to immediately dump it into the studio. Grant gets a LOVELY holiday present where suddenly, the numbers are not in the red anymore! [GM] This is how Grant doesn't become the final boss. [Sammy] Is that a present? IS THAT A PRESENT??? Grant looks at the numbers and they're suddenly bigger? WHAT'S HAPPENING [Jack] Sounds like a tax nightmare… he assumes his mind is broken, he's gone delusional, [Sammy] Joey's not thinking about how this affects TAXES he's just like, OH BOY! More money! Grant'll work that out. :) [Joey] Yeah! :D

[Sammy] Oh wow, mistletoe's been around for a while. [Sammy] …I say, as if mistletoe, the plant, is newly invented,

[Jack] We need to even the playing field; Henry's the highest, we need to drag him down to our level!

[GM] Let's say it's just you guys, and Peter and Susie, and Norman took off. [Sammy] Aw, don't wanna stay late? Old man, gotta get to bed? [GM] Maybe not if people are saying THAT at him,

*after finding a major ice rink was not built until 1936* [GM] Well, maybe everyone can do that when they DEFINITELY survive and come out victorious next year! :) [Sammy] ….survive?! Nothing's happened! It's a CHRISTMAS PARTY. [Jack] I HOPE we're surviving the Christmas Party, the food's not THAT bad, is it? [Henry] We solved your Christmas puzzle! [Jack] The Christmas Puzzle is how much food can we trick Joey into eating by handing it to him,

[Jack] Oh no, Spark's gone to… CATCOSA…. !

[Sammy] That's fine, Disney still hasn't caught up with us, so. [Jack] Well they're havin' this whole weird issue with like, ink and cultists, it's a bit weird… bunch of the staff started going missing…? [Sammy] *laughing* The entirety of Bendy and the Ink Machine happens, just OVER THERE. We averted it so now Disney has to do it.

[Henry] I will say, Henry's been a little uneasy all day. This doesn't affect anything, it's just for flavour. [GM] But he is in a really nice suit! [Sammy] Well THAT's why he's uneasy. They had to smooth his hair, and he's in a whole suit, [GM] In a vest that actually fits, [Henry] Unrecognisable. [Jack] Who is this stranger?

[GM] Make spot (hidden) checks! [Jack] *whispering* I hope it's Norman. [GM] Both of you spot a familiar face, before he's able to come accost you -- it's not Norman, it's Denis! [Sammy] oh gosh. [Joey] Well… I don't know if that's better or worse than my initial guess of Avedon,

[GM] He greets you all cheerful-like, "fancy meeting you here!" sort of thing-- [Sammy] Sammy still doesn't shake his hand. [GM] --he knows you as Joseph, doesn't he? [Joey] Oh no…. Joey was trying to hide his name in New Orleans… [Jack] That's fine, it's all about reinvention!

[Sammy] You know how in the Illusion of Living, Wally comes up and Joey randomly starts talking about how he's a great guy and a hard worker, and you're like, we were talking about something else ten seconds ago Joey PLEASE stay focused, [Sammy] Anyway, I'm imagining that but with Peter?

[Sammy] The Studio just had a big release last year, and I just got this really nice car! and *mumbling* those events aren't actually connected, BUT!! Through the power of leaving out the middle bit, you can assume they are!

[GM] Sammy, make a listen check! [Sammy] EXTREME SUCCESS, I rolled a THREE. [GM] Oh cool! Make a sanity check! [Sammy] oh no,,, [Joey] *Mario voice* HERE WE GO!

[Sammy] Sammy is gonna look at Joey, see that Joey is like…. in the midst of a conversational manoeuvre, and go, run try to find Jack. I don't know if he'll GET there, but, [GM] He can at least locate Jack, I would think, unless Jack is in a back room kissing boys or whatnot!

[GM] This guy is wearing a really severe, matte black suit, and has unnaturally white skin, his hair is black and very oiled in a severe widow's peak-- [Jack] It's him! Bendy Inkmachine!! [GM] I'm reading this description RIGHT from the book, I need you to know that.

[GM] The music's also definitely come to a stop, while all this was going on. And then there's a gunshot! And now there's just a big, yknow, panic, like you get! [Jack] Avedon's here! [Sammy] There'd be more French-accented yelling if Avedon were here. [Joey] I like how we're just going to end up willing Avedon into this scenario by making repeated "Avedon's here" jokes, [Jack] I mean, I've been trying to do the same with Norman, but it's either not working, or we haven't rolled Spot high enough to find him yet!

[GM] You guys get interviewed and asked what you saw, and what happened! [Sammy] …hang on, I gotta roll a check. [Sammy] *rolls* … OKAY COOL Sammy's back. [Joey] *laughing* Sammy interview, or Prophet interview? [Sammy] They were going to get a REALLY interesting interview if I rolled better on willpower!

[GM] Do you suppose Joey would've helped Susie shop for a dress that she could conceal a firearm in? [Joey] [Joey] sURE! [Joey] I mean I feel like, "would Joey help Susie shop for a dress," stop the sentence there: absolutely yes. There's other things to consider with dress? Well that just makes it a fun challenge now!

[GM] The police ask you what you saw. What do you tell them, about your experiences this evening? [Sammy] Sammy didn't see a lot. There was some commotion and a gunshot. [Joey] Yeah, I think Joey's just going to report that he just heard commotion happening up front, and quickly decided that he wasn't interested in commotion!

[Henry] Who was it who saw people with bloody eyes? [Sammy] Uh, that was Sammy, he's not mentioning that part.

[Jack] *rolls* Normal success for Jack. [Henry] *rolls* Hard success! [Sammy] *rolls* EXTREME success, I rolled a ten! [Joey] *rolls* …what's the fumble point, again?

[GM, as Denis] "There was a yellow sign at the Mardi Gras party last year! I thought it was a lucky charm, but I guess… it wasn't? I had a friend who said it wasn't, actually. You should watch out for those signs. Yes." [Joey] *so tired* Okay, that's… that's fine… [Henry] "Very helpful, thank you." [Jack] (This guy's great, can we keep him?) [Joey] (NO.)

[Henry] Henry is going to have so much anxiety. Like, just in general, but over this, too. [Sammy] "going to"??? [Henry] *laughing* No, you're right. What I'm learning is that Henry CAN slide into being mostly even-headed about crises, but he has to have a moment of "Oh God, oh fuck, oh geez" first. [GM] I think Peter does that in reverse. [Sammy] Yeah, that makes sense -- Sammy just shoots straight for "OH COOL, WE'RE GOING TO DIE!!!"

[GM] How much do you suppose these boys are up on vernacular and slang? [Henry] Henry might've picked up something from his kids, that's all I've got [Sammy] That's cute… Henry knows what yeet means... [Joey] I WAS ALSO GONNA SAY HENRY KNOWS WHAT YEET MEANS,

[Sammy] I do appreciate Jack being the one to notice that the prophecy might be a pun.

[Sammy] What do we even DO with this? What do we do next… [Joey] *muttering* That's what I've been trying to think of for the last like… half hour, Sammy…! [Joey] This isn't Joey-voice, this is just me-voice. [Jack] Yeah, Joey would never admit weakness in front of Peter Sunstram. [Joey] Yeah. Correct.

[Jack] Well if anyone else wants coffee, Jack might end up makin' some! [Jack] You know, that 11:30 coffee.

[Sammy] "Well, if he plays clarinet, let us know." [GM] Peter tips his head as if he's thinking of looking that up -- not looking it up, looking into it! [Jack] Yeah, just google it, Pete! What are you waiting for! [GM] On his cell phone, [Jack] You gotta pull out your Bendyphone! [Sammy] JDS is responsible for all anachronistic devices.

[Jack] Is It An Insanity Or Is It Just The ADHD

[Joey] Is Joey gonna make stupid decisions…? [Sammy] JOEY,,, [Sammy] Augh, I should've gone with him, [Joey] *rolls* *starts cackling maniacally* [Jack] *deadpan* Oh gee I wonder what the result is, [Joey] *audibly grinning* Joey might try to dream spell… Y? [Sammy] WHAT?! [Henry] Joey what are you doing…. [Sammy] JOEY DREW!!!

[Henry] I roll to see if Henry's "Joey's Doing Something Stupid" senses are tingling [Joey] Yeah, I think it's fair for Henry to have a "Is Joey Doing Something Stupid" sense that goes off fifty percent of the time, [Sammy] It's NOT USEFUL because it's ALWAYS HAPPENING,

[mybutcheredtongue]

I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

harry potter timeline sirius black x fem!reader

CHAPTER EIGHT (see full series list here)

1993

On the first Thursday evening after school returns from the Christmas holidays, you leave the Astronomy Tower for the History of Magic classroom. Remus told you he was going to teach Harry how to cast a patronus and asked you to come along and help, and you're more than happy to do so. Anytime you get to spend with your godson is time well spent, and getting to hang out with Remus is just another plus.

You turn up and find Harry and Remus standing in the classroom, Remus heaving a large packing case onto Professor Binns' desk.

Harry gives you a bit of a surprised look and Remus smiles, greeting you with your name. "I hope you don't mind my inviting her, Harry, but she is an excellent witch who can cast a perfect patronus."

You roll your eyes with a smile, chuckling lightly as you look at Harry. "He's going to pretend as if he isn't an excellent wizard himself who can also cast a perfect patronus."

Remus huffs quietly, shaking his head, and Harry smiles back at you, before turning his attention to the large case on the desk. "What's that?"

"Another Boggart," Remus answers, stripping off his cloak. "I've been combing the castle ever since Tuesday, and very luckily, I found this one lurking in Mr Filch's filing cabinet. It's the nearest we'll get to a real Dementor. The Boggart will turn into a Dementor when he sees you, so we'll be able to practise on him. I can store him in my office when we're not using him; there's a cupboard under my desk he'll like."

"Okay," Harry says, sounding a little apprehensive.

"So..." Remus takes out his own wand, indicating that Harry should do the same. You follow suit, slightly unsure of whether you're going to be of any help when Remus seems to have this perfectly under control already. "The spell we are going to try and teach you is highly advanced magic, Harry — well beyond Ordinary Wizarding Level. It is called the Patronus Charm."

"How does it work?" Harry asks.

"When cast correctly, it conjures up a Patronus," you say. "A Patronus acts as a sort of guardian...it protects you from a Dementor, drives it away and places itself between you and the Dementor."

Remus nods, before saying, "The Patronus is a kind of positive force, a projection of the very things that the Dementor feeds upon — hope, happiness, the desire to survive — but it cannot feel despair, as real humans can, so the Dementors can't hurt it. But I must warn you, Harry, that the Charm might be too advanced for you. Many qualified wizards have difficulty with it."

"But you two can do the charm, right? Was it hard to learn for you too?" Harry asks curiously and you laugh.

"Very hard, but we were young and would do anything to avoid studying," you reply with a laugh, making Remus smile.

"That is very true," he says in agreement.

Harry nods, before asking, "What does a Patronus look like?"

"Each one is unique to the wizard who conjures it," Remus says.

"And how do you conjure it?"

"With an incantation, which will work only if you are concentrating, with all your might, on a single, very happy memory."

Harry pauses for a moment, clearly thinking hard, before saying a very concentrated "Right."

"The incantation is expecto patronum!" you say slowly.

"Expecto patronum," Harry repeats under his breath, "expecto patronum."

"Excellent! Concentrating hard on your happy memory?" Remus reminds him and Harry quickly nods, remembering what he was supposed to be doing.

"Oh — yeah — expecto patrono — no, patronum — sorry — expecto patronum, expecto patronum —"

A wisp of silvery gas suddenly whooshes out of the end of his wand and his face lights up excitedly.

"Did you see that?" he grins. "Something happened!"

"Incredible for your first lesson!" You encourage and Harry beams.

"Yes, very good," Remus says, smiling. "Right then — ready to try it on a Dementor?"

"Yes," Harry says confidently, gripping his wand tightly and moving into the middle of the classroom.

You stand to the side, wand at the ready, as Remus grasps the lid of the packing case and pulls. You watch as a Dementor rises slowly from the box, its hooded face turned towards Harry, one glistening, scabbed hand gripping its cloak. The lamps in the classroom flicker and then die out. The Dementor steps out of the box and starts to sweep in that sickeningly eerie Dementor way towards Harry, drawing a deep, rattling breath.

"Expecto patronum!" Harry yells desperately. "Expecto patronum! Expecto — "

Harry begins to falter, and his grip on his wand weakens so much that it drops from his hand and he too drops backwards to the floor.

You and Remus both spring to life, as Remus shouts a quick riddikulus! at the 'Dementor' and it morphs into a bright full moon, the lamps returning to their former glow with it.

You run to the boy lying flat in the middle of the room and gently shake his arm, saying, "Harry!" and snapping your fingers.

He quickly jerks back to life, looking around himself as he sits up, beads of sweat trickling down behind his glasses. You pull a handkerchief from your pocket and hand it to him with a small smile, and he accepts it gratefully, patting his face down with it.

"Sorry," he mutters.

"Are you all right?" You ask.

"Yes..." Harry pulls himself up on one of the desks and leans against it.

"Here — " Remus hands him a Chocolate Frog. "Eat this before we try again. I didn't expect you to do it the first time. In fact, I would have been astounded if you had."

"It's getting worse," Harry mutters, biting the Frog's head off. "I could hear her louder that time — and him — Voldemort — "

You glance at Remus, his face has turned pale and you inhale slowly, stomach churning.

"Harry," you say gently. "That's what Dementors do. They make you remember the worst memories, your worst fears...that way, you let your guard down and let your happy memories and feelings slip into their grasp. But if you keep that happiest memory strong in your mind, it'll protect you."

Harry seems to think about this for a moment, and Remus says, "Harry, if you don't want to continue, I will more than understand — "

"I do!" Harry says fiercely, stuffing the rest of the Chocolate Frog into his mouth. "I've got to! What if the Dementors turn up at our match against Ravenclaw? I can't afford to fall off again. If we lose this game we've lost the Quidditch Cup!"

Okay James.

"All right then..." Remus says, slightly taken aback. You know he's thinking the exact same thing you are. "You might want to select another memory, a happy memory, I mean, to concentrate on...that one doesn't seem to have been strong enough..."

Harry moves to the middle of the classroom again, wand gripped firmly in his hand.

"Ready?" Remus asks, gripping the lid of the packing case.

"Ready," Harry replies.

"Go!" Remus says, pulling off the lid. Once again, the lamps flicker out and it gets icily cold, sending shivers down your spine. The Dementor glides forward towards Harry, drawing its rattling breath and extending one rotting hand out to him.

"Expecto patronum!" Harry yells. "Expecto patronum! Expecto pat —"

Once more, Harry's face goes blank and he tumbles to the ground, dropping his wand in the process. He lays on the ground, shaking, his face contorting in pained expressions and you move to him again while Remus quickly sorts out the Boggart, coming to his side too.

"Harry! Harry, dear, wake up..." you say, tapping him hard on the face. He opens his eyes, looking very disorientated, looking around like he doesn't know where he is. Then he shakes his head slightly and clears his throat.

"I heard my dad," he mumbles. You feel your heart start to ache. "That's the first time I've ever heard him — he tried to take on Voldemort himself, to give my mum time to run for it..."

You notice glistening tears wetting Harry's face, and when he bends down to do up his shoelace, they've been wiped off.

"You heard James?" Remus says quietly, almost as if he's forgotten where he is. You glance up at him, catching the sad look in his eyes.

"Yeah..." Harry looks up at Remus. "Why — you didn't know my dad, did you?"

"I — I did — we did, as a matter of fact," Remus says quickly, gesturing to you. "We were friends at Hogwarts. Listen, Harry — perhaps we should leave it here for tonight. This charm is ridiculously advanced...I shouldn't have suggested putting you through this..."

"No!" Harry cries, getting up again defiantly. "I'll have one more go! I'm not thinking of happy enough things, that's what it is...hang on..."

There's a brief moment of silence as Harry racks his brain for an even happier memory than his last.

"Ready?" Remus says, though you can tell he's doing this against his better judgment. You give him a look and he grits his teeth. "Concentrating hard? All right — go!"

He pulls off the lid and the Dementor emerges again.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Harry bellows. "EXPECTO PATRONUM! EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

To your shock, a huge, silver shadow bursts from the end of Harry's wand, hovering between him and the Dementor. Though Harry has nearly produced a proper Patronus, he begins to sway again and you spring forward, roaring, "Riddikulus!"

There's a loud crack and Harry's wispy Patronus disappears along with the Dementor and he sinks into a chair, legs shaking. You're no longer focused on him though, because once you've stepped in front of the Boggart it contorts into a familiar figure.

Sirius Black stands before you, dressed in an Azkaban prisoner's clothes, filthy and grubby. His long curls which you once loved running your fingers through are greasy and matted, and his face is sunken and pale. His eyes are wide, staring at you, and his face twists into a cruel smile.

"It was me," he says, though the voice isn't his. This voice is full of cruelty, malice, and even though it sounds like him, you know it's not.

No, no. This isn't real. You know this isn't real. Why are your eyes stinging? Why is the ability to breathe suddenly lost on you?

His body starts to shake in silent laughter. "You are so fucking stupid. I never even cared about — "

"Riddikulus!"

You blink. Remus is forcing the Boggart back into its packing case with his wand; it has turned into the moon again.

Remus gives you a quick once-over from where you stand, stock-still, staring at the packing case. He chooses instead to focus on Harry, forcing a smile. "Excellent! Excellent, Harry! That was definitely a start!"

"Eat the lot, or Madam Pomfrey will be after my blood. Same time next week?"

You stand, staring at the packing case. You don't even know what's going on, you've completely zoned out, thinking only of the 'man' that was in front of you mere moments ago.

"If you knew my dad, you must know Sirius Black too."

You snap out of your daze, spinning around to face Harry and Remus.

"What gives you that idea?" Remus says sharply. You remain silent.

"Nothing — I mean, I just knew that they were friends at Hogwarts, too..."

"Yes, I knew him," Remus says shortly, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. "Or I thought I did. You'd better get off, Harry, it's getting late."

Harry turns to you, Lily's eyes staring at you inquisitively. "And you, Professor...your Boggart..."

"Yes, well, yes, it's him," you reply curtly. "It shouldn't be a shock that I am afraid of a...a crazed — " your mind runs wild trying to find any words, "— um...a — a man like that."

"But you did know him?"

"Yes. Really, Harry, Professor Lupin is right...bed, now. You have class in the morning." You turn around, suddenly busying yourself with something on Binns' desk.

Harry hesitates for a moment before you hear him leave behind you, the door closing and leaving you alone with Remus.

You sigh gently and look up at him. He says nothing, just opens his arms and envelopes you in a comforting hug.

"Perhaps it's best to let you handle the Boggarts from now on?" You joke with a weak smile and Remus chuckles lightly.

"I think you might be right."

✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

January turns to February. Harry's all-important Ravenclaw game draws nearer, and Harry seems to grow more frustrated at each unsuccessful Patronus lesson. However, with each try, even though he doesn't know it, he is making progress.

"You're expecting too much of yourself," Remus says sternly in your fourth week of practice. "For a thirteen-year-old wizard, even an indistinct Patronus is a huge achievement. You aren't passing out any more, are you?"

"I thought a Patronus would — charge the Dementors down or something," says Harry dispiritedly. "Make them disappear — "

"The true Patronus does do that," Remus replies. "But you've achieved a great deal in a very short space of time. If the Dementors put in an appearance at your next Quidditch match, you will be able to keep them at bay long enough to get back to the ground."

"Besides, we'll be there too. You have nothing to worry about," you say with an encouraging smile.

"But you said it's harder if there are loads of them."

"We have complete confidence in you," Remus says, smiling. "Here — you've earned a drink. Something from the Three Broomsticks, you won't have tried it before — "

He pulls three gold bottles from his briefcase and Harry's face lights up.

"Butterbeer!" says Harry. "Yeah, I like that stuff!"

Harry, the boy who has never set foot in Hogsmeade?

You give him a sceptical look.

"Oh — Ron and Hermione brought me some back from Hogsmeade," Harry says quickly, smiling awkwardly.

"I see," Remus says, though he looks equally as suspicious as you. "Well, let's drink to a Gryffindor victory against Ravenclaw! Not that I'm supposed to take sides, as a teacher..." he adds hastily and you snort, rolling your eyes.

"Once a Gryffindor, always a Gryffindor, Remus," you say with a wink and he shakes his head amusedly.

You take a sup from your Butterbeer, the room quiet as you all drink, before Harry breaks the silence by saying, "What's under a Dementor's hood?"

Remus lowers his bottle thoughtfully. "Hmm...well, the only people who know are in no condition to tell us. You see, the Dementor only lowers its hood to use its last and worst weapon."

"What's that?"

"They call it the Dementors' Kiss," you answer with a small shudder. "It's terrible. It's what the Dementors do when they want to utterly destroy someone. There's some kind of mouth under that hood because they attach their jaws to the mouth of the victim and...suck out their soul."

Harry accidentally spits out his Butterbeer. "What — they kill — ?"

"Oh, no," Remus says. "Much worse than that. You can exist without your soul, you know, as long as your brain and heart are still working. But you'll have no sense of self any more, no memory, no...anything. There's no chance at all of recovery. You'll just — exist. As an empty shell. And your soul is gone forever...lost."

Remus drinks a little more Butterbeer, then says, "It's the fate that awaits Sirius Black. It was in the Daily Prophet this morning. The Ministry has given the Dementors permission to perform it if they find him."

You nearly choke on your drink, placing it down on the table as you cough. "What?"

"Did you not see that?" Remus asks in confusion and you shake your head, stunned.

"No, I didn't," you respond dejectedly. "I — I slept in this morning, missed the post — meteor shower last night..."

"He deserves it," Harry says suddenly.

You turn to him, shocked. "Harry!" you say breathlessly, looking down at the wooden desk.

"You think so, Harry?" Remus says lightly. "Do you really think anyone deserves that?"

"Yes," says Harry defiantly. "For...for some things..."

"It's inhumane," you spit. "If you knew half of what goes on in Azkaban, you would think it is punishment enough."

Harry doesn't respond to that, just thanks you both for the lesson and Remus for the Butterbeer before leaving.

As soon as he's gone you turn to Remus. "The Kiss?"

"I thought you had read it," Remus says apologetically, looking very guilty. "I would have told you otherwise."

"It's fine, Moony, really...I don't care about that. Just...like, what the fuck? This is just great. Exactly what I needed to hear. What a brilliant year this has been!" You say bitterly, standing up from your seat and running a hand down your face, laughing humourlessly. "Just fucking brilliant."

✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

->-> read chapter nine here!

→ all kinds of interaction are appreciated ♡

[yandere-sins]

Happy Valentine’s, my Love

a/n: Happy Valentine’s guys! I hope you have a lovely day, regardless of the purpose of the holiday or if you’re celebrating it. Remember that if there’s nothing else to love, we can still love Yandere (;

Warning: Yandere, Detailed Violence/Gore, Long Post, Abuse mention

Valentine's Day has never been your favorite celebration of the year.

When you were single, it showed you just how alone you were as you passed by happy, kissing couples on the streets. Halloween, Christmas, and birthdays—those were all festivities shared with family and friends, so you enjoyed them as long as they kept your mind off things. When you finally got your first boyfriend, you thought that for sure, Valentine's would be enjoyable from now on too. 

But you were wrong.

You loved him. You would have sworn to anyone doubting you that you loved that cruel bastard of a man who didn't care about your poor, desperate heart, pleading to be loved by him. Being with him broke you, and latest when Valentine's Day came around, and he decided to go out with his friends rather than stay with you, you realized he didn't feel as strongly about you as you did about him. Leaving him was the best and worst decision of your whole life. Best, because you knew you'd be able to move on, find someone to appreciate you. Someone normal, someone kind.

Worst because that scumbag wouldn't let you leave him so easily.

There was no detail you spared your boyfriend when you told him about your ex. You showed him the scars, the panic in your eyes, the restraining order, and every police report that came after. You wanted him to know. Everything. Without knowing your past, you couldn't imagine a future for you two. Though it may have been early in your relationship, you needed to know if there would be another lonely or, perhaps, a warm Valentine's Day awaiting you with this man you decided to trust. You finally had your answer when he held you as you cried, rubbed your back, and comforted you. He was the right one. He was kind and he was normal, accepting and understanding of everything about you.

So, how could it be that on Valentine's Day, you heaved yet another long sigh as you lowered your phone, still no reply from your boyfriend about when he was going to be home? There was no excuse like 'working late' or 'stopping to get dinner' when he had been off for the last five hours, and you had already cooked and set the table. Nothing could have been more important on a Tuesday evening than to get home to his beloved partner waiting for him. You couldn't think of any other excuses to make except for…

He forgot.

Maybe you were being childish. Disillusioned by TV and social media, romance books and games, that someone could actually exist who'd care. Care about you, your feelings, and this stupid couple's holiday. You didn't need someone who'd take you out on a unique, fancy date just because capitalism forced him to. You didn't even want presents or your partner being overly excited about a home-cooked meal and some sexy lingerie for dessert. Honestly, you two could have celebrated on any given day that you were in love and happy with each other. You just wanted someone to care. 

There were a hundred things you could think of that you two could be doing, even if some made you slightly less comfortable than others. Your boyfriend had some interesting hobbies, like taking you out to the woods for a weekend, a secret cabin where it would only be you two and his camera that would constantly go off to capture pictures of you. He liked to practice tying knots and bought you two all kinds of sensual toys, including blindfolds and gags. Occasionally, you enjoyed the new activities too. Still, you felt like you'd never enjoy them quite as much as your boyfriend did, no matter how much fun you had. It made him happy first and foremost, so you tried to indulge him, knowing he would do the same for you. If anything, he had always been exactly what you wanted—kind, caring, affectionate, and a great cook. The bar wasn't high after what your ex did, but your boyfriend lifted it higher than you ever thought he could. 

Which was why it was so strange he forgot this day, despite it being so important on your healing journey.

He usually was the one to always remember important dates or where you put your things whenever you happened to be forgetful. He took care of you when you were sick, saying things like, "I will always make sure you're happy and loved, Darling." His attitude and efforts made you look the other way whenever he asked you to pose for his camera or trust him when he booked another weird place for a weekend trip. You didn't enjoy these things as much as he did, but knowing he's been doing them since childhood, you couldn't deny him that little bit of freedom when he changed his life to accommodate you in return. 

You wanted to be angry about him not showing up, knowing it meant the world to you, but if you were honest, you were just disappointed. Maybe you had put too many of your problems onto him. Perhaps he was tired of taking care of you all the time. Maybe this wasn't the right relationship either, no matter how much you wanted it to be. Mistakes were made before, and this could have been one of them.

Your train of thought was harshly interrupted by the sound of the front door opening, your head snapping around as you stared at your boyfriend wide-eyed and surprised as he giddily stepped inside, holding multiple bags of renowned stores you liked to shop in, grinning like he always did when seeing you. 

"Sorry for not replying earlier! I was preoccupied."

Pushing off his shoes and hanging up his coat, he spoke nonchalantly as if your inner tumult didn't face him. Which, to be fair, you didn't even know if he was aware of. The bags in his hand were clearly apology gifts that he could shove wherever. Now you did feel angry, but when your boyfriend finally stepped into the kitchen, lifting his nose in the air and humming blissfully, you almost felt bad, seeing how innocent he looked, unaware of your anger. 

"I wish I could have gotten back earlier, but I needed to take care of something," he called out from the kitchen sink, rinsing his hands dutifully. He was a bit of a goofball, wiping his wet hands on his shirt before sliding over to you on his socks, grinning from ear to ear as he met your gaze. You loved his playful ways, the tenderness of always searching for your no matter what. It was either eye contact or holding hands in public; your boyfriend never too shy to show you were with him. 

"I know what you're thinking, but I didn't forget," he chuckled, scratching his cheek nervously after he noticed your furrowed brows. Moving around the couch you were sitting on, he took a seat right next to you, knees touching as he reached for your hand that you didn't pull away, even if just to see what he'd do. "I just wanted to make this the most special Valentine's ever."

Glancing at his fingers, your eyes got stuck at the red paint around the rim of where his nails met his skin, and you raised an eyebrow, replying, "Okay…?" 

Did he make you a card? Painted a picture? Maybe he decorated a cake… You wanted to be pessimistic, given how he had already wasted most of the day being tardy. However, the promise of him actually going through the trouble of making you something from scratch was already more effort than you could have expected from him. 

"Every day, you make me so happy," your boyfriend started, a doe-eyed look on his face as he gently massaged your hand, bringing it up to his lips to kiss it reverently, his breath tingling against your skin. "Allowing me to love you is the greatest gift you could have ever made me. Just waking up every morning knowing I have you to cherish gives me the strength to overcome any hurdle in my life. I only need food, water, and you to survive my days with no regrets and no ill feelings. That's how much you changed me."

 Planting some more kisses on the back of your hand, your boyfriend looked back up at you, grinning one of his beautiful, sunny smiles that you loved so much, his dimples making him look like he was out of a movie rather than the man you called your boyfriend. Hearing his confession made your anger evaporate, tears brimming your eyes that he quickly wiped away with his thumb. "Don't cry yet, I'm not finished, and you know I can't hold back when you cry."

You both laughed off the awkwardness and the stuffy noses as you took some deep breaths, gathering your composure as best as possible. "I wouldn't want to miss you ever," he sighed blissfully, his gaze piercing right into your soul, laying the words there like bandages around your scarred heart. "You're my light, and I love you more than humanly possible. I want that, exactly this here, right now, forever."

Pulling his hand away from caressing your cheek, he fumbled with the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a little red box shaped like a heart. Your breath hitched as you put your hand over your mouth to not let it hang wide open, surprised as your boyfriend opened the lid to reveal a beautiful ring that undoubtedly would have your size. "Will you do me the honor of marrying me?" he asked, fingertips brushing over the velvet outline of the ring box nervously. And you…

Hesitated. 

A part of you wanted nothing more than to say yes, throw your arms around him, kiss him, let him put the ring on your finger, and call you by his last name. But then the thoughts you had before your boyfriend came home returned to your mind, and suddenly, doubts flooded you. You always thought he was the one to make you happy. The one to start a family with even. You were okay with his strange obsession with his hobbies, and he did his best to support you and make you feel loved daily. Why did you doubt him just because he was a little late on Valentine's Day? It was such a silly idea after the heartfelt confession he just made, wanting you to know all the ways he felt about you. 

Strangely enough, your eyes fell to his fingernails again, the red rims and dirt under the nail. Your boyfriend was very careful about his looks. It was strange that he didn't take the time to make himself look prim and proper for something as important as a proposal. He always obsessed about looking presentable to you whenever he was out with you. Even when he swore you were beautiful no matter what, he always put in the extra effort for himself. 

"I…" you mumbled, your sentence coming to a choked stop as if invisible hands were trying to stop you from speaking and squeezing the air out of your lungs. The sparkle in your boyfriend's eyes faded as he noticed your hesitation, an expression of hurt crossing over his face even though he tried to hide it behind a smile. 

"I'm sorry, was that too rash? I mean, we never discussed it. I just thought today would be a good day, and… Wow, I… This is awkward." 

Putting the ring away, he scratched the back of his head, turning from you. You wanted to reach out, console him, tell him he didn't do anything wrong, but as you watched his expression turn from hurt to bitter, you instead hugged your own body, leaning away from him. Next you knew, he was up, pacing back and forth behind the couch, muttering mixes of justifications and excuses.

"You said yes to your ex. I thought I could erase the Valentine's trauma if I did the same. I don't really know why I thought you'd say yes... We're still in our early stages, right? Gosh, I'm dumb sometimes! Just ignore I asked. It made sense to me when I saw the ring and thought of you, but I should have consulted you beforehand. It's not even that pretty. It's not good enough for you. You deserve a better ring, bigger and a lot more expensive than this little thing. They said it's a real diamond, but I'm not so sure. Am I making it worse? Please say no, this is already too embarrassing! We can't tell anyone I was so stupid to think you'd want to marry me."

Suddenly, your boyfriend stopped, looking at you. His breathing seemed to halt as he stared into your eyes with an unnerving, emotionless gaze. "You love me, though, right?"

Blinking at him, you couldn't quite follow his tirade of sentences, but you gave a slow nod, his expression changing instantly. "Phew! Lucky me! Here I thought I ruined it." The tension that had stopped him in his tracks flowed out of him, muscles relaxing, lips curling back into a smile. 

Coming back to the couch, he took his place next to you, reaching for your hand to take into his, resting it on top of his thigh. For a moment, he stayed like this, brushing his thumb back and forth over the back of your hand as he smiled upon it thoughtfully. "This was a mistake, but I wouldn't be able to bear it if you'd hate me now. Can you tell me why it's a no?"

Looking up at you, you couldn't help but avert your gaze after catching his, seeing his kindness and patience that swirled with his love for you in it. He was always like that, understanding and accepting no matter what you did. How could you possibly confess to him that it was because you had a bad feeling about how he acted on Valentine's Day? That would make you look like an absolute idiot, wouldn't it? Rejecting him for being late?

"It's just… a little too early," you stammered, making apparent excuses. Eleven months may have been a bit quick, but you two had a lovely relationship so far. "I see…" he mumbled. His head fell back as he let out a loud laugh, squeezing your hand tightly as if he feared losing his hold. "And here I thought it was because of your ex."

"Why do you keep bringing him up?" you asked, a ping of irritation going through you at the constant reminder. 

"Well, you brought up marriage much earlier with him, but you never talked about it with me."

Odd, you thought, not remembering giving him that detail. You were sure you mentioned you thought your ex was the one you'd marry, but this seemed like a knowledge that you didn't think you told him about.

"I… maybe?" you mumbled, unsure if this had actually happened since you avoided letting your memories resurface. 

"Yeah, so I thought maybe I wasn't good enough for you. Maybe you still like your ex more than me. That's why you never brought up marriage. Don't tell me you actually still feel for that bastard?"

His words were throat-cutting sharp as he spit them out, his eyes fixating tensely on you as if to warn you not to say the wrong thing. "Of course not…" you mumbled, appalled at your boyfriend's thoughts. "You know I'm with you now. I rarely ever think of that guy…"

"Good… good," he mumbled, features softening as he looked forward, brushing his thumb over your hand again as he stared into nothingness thoughtfully. "It would be hard to piece him together again if you changed your mind."

"What?" you mumbled, cocking your head and furrowing your brows, waiting for your boyfriend to explain what he meant with his strange choice of words. 

Sitting up straight, your boyfriend stopped tracing over the back of your hand, taking a deep breath instead. Rolling his head to face you, he forced a smile on his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Somehow, I knew," he sighed, a hint of regret decorating his features. "I knew you wouldn't say yes."

"I couldn't pinpoint it. It was just a feeling I had as I drove home today. It got me thinking of reasons why you would reject my proposal. I kept driving up and down the street, too nervous to just come in and ask you; that's why I was so late. Because at one turn, I ended up on your ex's street, passing by his house, and I stopped the car. I felt like it was his fault that you'd reject me, and I looked through his window, and there he was, cuddling with some girl that didn't look like you at all. Probably a whore. That's the best that scumbag can do."

He spat the last two sentences as if they disgusted him on your behalf. As if he was angry, your ex wasn't at least miserable about losing you. It seemed sweet, but your boyfriend's actions were scaring you more and more, especially when you tried to pull back your hand, his fingers clutching around your wrist tightly as he kept you right where you were, not giving you a chance to back away until you relented, letting him continue to brush his thumb back and forth over it.

"I knew I couldn't just leave him like that. He hurt you. He hurt you badly, and I wanted him to suffer. I rang the bell, waiting for him to open, but he let the slut get the door for him, that lazy piece of shit. So I wrapped my arm around her neck, pulled her to the kitchen, and slit her throat right in front of his face. And can you believe it? He cried. Like a little baby, as the bitch bled out."

Your blood ran cold as he spun his gruesome tale. You were even more inclined to get away from him as his expression filled with a mix of indifference and hatred. However, he turned towards you, reaching for your arm and pulling you closer to him, no matter how hard he had to jank until you fell into his arms. "I thought about you," he mumbled, eyes shifting back to the affectionate spark you loved being looked at with normally. He smiled as he caressed your skin, full of goosebumps. "I only thought of you as I rammed the knife into his back over and over, not giving him an easy way out while he cried and pleaded for me to stop. But I didn't. Not until he collapsed, gurgling. That's when I decided it would be the best gift for you, and I hope you'll like it."

Finally, your boyfriend took his hands away, fluttering touches turning into nothingness as he got up. He was eerily calm, not chipper like usual, and not bothered by what he just told you. He stepped around the couch, touching your shoulder as he passed you by, chuckling to himself about the good thing he did while you tried to comprehend the shock you were feeling, disgust and panic not yet having set in. 

"I got you other presents too, but nothing as good as this one," he explained, and you heard the bags rustling behind your back, sending another shiver down your spine. How ironic, you thought, realizing he did make you something homemade for Valentine's. It made a splashing sound as he pulled it out of the bag, and it explained the red stains on his fingers, but it was neither a card, a picture, nor a cake. 

You opened your mouth to scream as your boyfriend slipped the severed head of your ex wrapped in multiple layers of saran wrap into your lap, an anguished expression of pain forever chiseled into the features of the man you once loved. He had never been a good lover to you, but you were pretty sure he didn't deserve this. 

Before a single, horrified scream could rip out of your throat, your boyfriend's hand came down to rest over your mouth, pressing around your lips so nothing but muffled sounds could escape you. "I took care of it. No need to get upset now, Babe," he mumbled, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. "He can never hurt you again, and when we do decide to marry, no one will be in our way," he assured you. 

And you believed him.

"Because if anyone else tries, I'll take care of them too," he added, and you could hear the smirk on his lips, an expression so mad you didn't even want to see it crossing his face.

"I won't let anyone come between you and me. Not now, and not ever, Baby. Happy Valentine's Day, my Love."