#anyway I have nothing nice to say about him

[nonranghaes]

minho's stomping through the snow to get to where you're talking to chris up by the house, already pouting a bit. "you're too far away," he mumbles, sliding his hands into your pockets. "stop wandering away."

you say nothing about this little display of affection, or the fact that you know minho has nice gloves in his pockets (you bought him this pair, and he never leaves without them when it's cold). you just shove your hands into your pockets instead, hands cupping over his. "so anyway--"

"don't ignore me!" he whines, tugging at your jacket as best as he can now. he looks at chris, pouting at him, too. "they're ignoring me. scold them."

chris's eyes crinkle a little as he looks from your face to minho's, and his shifts his weight from one leg to the other. "no returns on him, by the way."

"oh, i know." you draw one hand out just so you can pat minho's bicep a few times. "i don't intend to."

minho smiles a little, and snuggles in close. good. he thinks he's yours for life now anyway. "that's not what i asked for," he mumbles, pressing a kiss against your cheek. "it's too cold here."

"we'll go in a minute," you just cuddle closer to him.

"we don't have to." he just flexes his hands a little, turning them so that he can hold yours. "i'm fine now."

of course he is. you just give him a kiss on the cheek, and feel the way he practically melts against you now that you've given him a little attention for now. he has what he wants: a little attention and to hold you before you have to go back home.

[thundersoothers]

john price, his wife, and... the dog (derogatory)

who: John Price x wife!reader

what: inspired by this thought about john price being an absolutely softie for his wife.

word count: 2.4k

warnings: mentions of cheating but it’s NOT TRUE! you’ll see… just fluff that reallyyyyy makes me want to marry this man.

It’s 2AM on a Saturday in the summer when John Price thinks he hears his wife cheating on him. 

“Shhh!!  You have to be quiet, you’ll wake up my husband.” 

He opens his heavy eyes to see the TV paused at the end credits of some movie he can’t even remember the name of.  The screen reflects in the crystal of the empty rocks glass on the coffee table next to his feet, holding only a warm whiskey stone.  

He groans and stretches, his old t-shirt riding up to show a dark happy trail disappearing into low-waisted flannel pajama pants.  He has one sock on with a hole in the toe.  You told him to get rid of them and got him a pack of 20 of the same sock (he’s very particular about his socks), but he still wears these ones, anyway. 

“Stop moving, I’m trying to concentrate here.  Damn lock… can never— oh, shit.  Heh. Wrong key.” 

He can hear you muttering and giggling and the scratch of the key against the lock as you struggle to get it in. 

It’s your girls’ night and he likes to wait up for you to make sure you get in safely.  He saw you off around 8PM, pouring himself a glass of whiskey as you took a shot of tequila.  You planted a big kiss on his cheek, leaving a red lipstick mark that he didn’t bother to fully wipe off. 

“Sorry, I know you’re eager to get inside.  I bet you’re so cold, all naked.  Here, you can go in my dress, is that better?  Fu—ow!  Don’t bite my tit, Jesus!  Sharp teeth…” 

He suddenly feels much more awake.  He pushes himself up from the couch and starts to walk to the foyer. 

“This damn door… ah!  There we go.” 

The door creaks open and he hears you tiptoe inside in your heels (wearing heels and tiptoeing—are two actions that are mutually exclusive, especially when you’re plastered). 

“Remember, we have to be quiet.  My husband waits for me to get home, we don’t want to wake him up.  He’s very nice, you see, but he can’t know you’re here.” 

Apparently, you have gotten home safely—with an extra guest who just bit at your tit.  And you’re being more loud than your guest, who you keep telling to be quiet. 

“My husband is gonna be soooo mad.  He’s gonna be so mad at me, but once he sees how cute you are, I think he’ll forgive me.  He’ll understand.  I had to.  I just had to!” 

He hears rustling as he gets closer to the foyer, you fumbling around in the dark. 

“Stay there, don’t move, okay?  Stay, yeah?  You know that, don’t you?  Mummy will teach you if not.  Just stay right there.  Lemme get these damn heels off…” 

There’s an odd sound of something quickly clicking on hardwood floor that makes his eyebrows furrow, and then you gasp—

“Wait, don’t run—“ 

Bang! 

You groan loudly. 

Price flicks on the lights.

You’re lying face down on the rug.  You have one heel on.  The second heel is twisted around your other foot—what you fell over.  Your little dress is flipped up over your ass and your arms are outstretched. 

“You okay there, love?” John asks, torn between amusement and concern. You just groan.  “Sounded like you fell pretty hard.” 

“I tripped,” you say into the rug, sounding very sad. 

“You hurt?” he asks.  “Anything broken?”

You shake your head and curl up a little.  “I’ll just sleep here.” 

He laughs softly.  “Come on, none of that.” 

“It’s so comfortable.  I’ll just—“ 

There’s that clicking sound again and he’s almost startled by the abruptness of your movement.  You push yourself up with one arm, stretch the other out and fucking snatch the quick-moving little brown blob that’s moving toward you.  You pull it to your chest and cradle it, shielding it from John’s view. 

He blinks. “What you got there, baby?” he asks after a second. 

“Nothing,” you say innocently. 

“Right.”  He crosses his arms, looking you over.  “Who were you talking to just now?” 

“No one,” you say quickly.  “Myself.” 

“Right,” John says again slowly. “Show me what you have.” 

You look over your shoulder up at him through your lashes, vision blurry.  “No.  You’re gonna be mad.” 

“Just show me.” 

“Promise you won’t be mad.” 

He sighs.  “I won’t be mad.”  You give him a look.  He sighs again.  You’re wasted—he can tell by your eyes. They’re unfocused and heavy.  “Promise.  Now show me.” 

You look down at whatever you’re holding to your chest.  “Okay,” you whisper (to your tits?), “you need to be very well-behaved, okay?  No biting, please.  Be very nice for Daddy so he will like you, okay?  Can you do that?  Yes?  Okay.” 

You glance up at John again over your shoulder and then turn yourself around in a very clumsy movement.  Then, as if presenting whatever it is like you’re Mufasa from the Lion King, you lift it up in the air toward your husband. 

It’s a puppy. 

It’s quiet. 

The little dog wriggles in your hands, wagging his tail so hard his whole body shakes.  He barks up at John, high pitched.  A small pink tongue lolls out of his mouth. 

It’s still quiet. 

You lower the dog a little so you can look up at John.  “You said you wouldn’t be mad!” 

“I’m not mad,” John says, sounding mad. 

“You look mad.” 

“I’m not mad,” he says again.  “It’s just… dirty.” 

You gasp.  “He’s not dirty!” you exclaim, sounding offended on behalf of the dog.  You pull him to your chest.  “He’s just a little mangey, you see.  But that’s okay.  It can be fixed.  You know—they have medicine for that.  Or lotion, or whatever it is.  He’s very nice, John, I swear.  I know he’s a little… skrunkly but he’s very cute and—ow!  That’s my hair, no biting Mummy, please.” 

“You’re already calling yourself his Mummy?” he asks, bemused, eyebrow raised at you.  Yep.  You’re fucking wasted. 

“Yes, and you’re his Daddy.”  You hold the dog up again, this time facing him toward you.  “I think you’re very cute, puppy. You’ll grow on Daddy.  Just be very good for him, you can do that, can’t you?  Yes, you can.”  You whisper, as if John isn’t standing right there, “We’ll wear him down. Don’t worry.”

“I thought it was something else,” Price says. 

“What did you think it was?” you ask, not looking away from the dog.

“Where did you find it?” he asks instead of answering. 

This is much better than what his traitorous mind momentarily supplied.  You, cheating? As if.

How silly of him to even think that. For a moment, his stomach twists with the guilt of doubting you. He should have known better. 

Of course it’s this.  What else could it have been?

A puppy. 

A puppy! 

“Oh, hello, there.” 

You crouch down in your dress and heels and hold out your hand to the little puppy emerging from the bushes by the side of the road. 

“What are you doing here, all alone?  Come here, love, I won’t hurt you.  Come on, puppy, come to me.  Yeahhh, there we go.  Oh, look at you.  You’re so cute.  You’re all mangey, though.  Oh,” you say pitifully, “you little baby.” 

You’re drunk as fuck at 2AM on a Saturday in the summer, in the middle of your walk home from the bar, squatting in the middle of a back road in England, about to cry while petting this puppy clumsily—but he doesn’t seem to mind.  He wags his tail and nips at your fingers. 

“Where’s your Mummy?  You shouldn’t be out here all alone.  No collar… oh, goodness, what should I do with you?  I don’t want to leave you.  I’m not sure what to do.” 

He barks at you, high pitched. 

You nod at him seriously.  “Oh, yes, good point.”  He barks again.  “Mhm.  Yes, yes.  I thought so, too.  Exactly right.” 

He runs in a circle around you. 

“What are you, a month?  You should be with your Mum, you shouldn’t be all alone.  Oh, you little baby, you must be so scared.”  (He’s wagging his tail.) 

“It’s so cold.”  (It’s summer.) 

“Maybe you can come home with me?”  (Your husband would be so mad.) 

“Yes,” you decide.  “You’ll come home with me.”  (Your husband is going to be so mad.) 

That’s how you end up stumbling home with a puppy in your arms, rambling to him about yourself and your life. 

“Well, puppy, my name is Mrs. Price.  I’m from around here.  I live in a nice three bedroom house with my husband, I think you’ll like it very much.  It’s very cute. He let me decorate it. He doesn’t understand feng shui, you see. You should see his office, puppy, it’s so bland. No taste for interior design.”

“Our house is only 10 more minutes away.  See that big tree there?  That means we only have 10 minutes left until we’re home.  I’m not great with street names, you see, so I go by landmarks.”  He barks.  “Yes, yes, you get it.” 

“Anyway.  So, I’m—stop wiggling please, Mummy’s going to drop you—I’m married to a very nice man named John.  I love him very much.  You’ll like him, too,” you tell him seriously, “he’s very likable.  I like lots of things about him, puppy.  Actually, I like everything about him.” 

“He says I can’t have a dog, though.  He says it’s for my own good—booooo. Boo! But maybe we can sneak you in.  What do you think, puppy?  Should we do that?  I think we should do that.  We’ll have to be very quiet, though.  Very quiet.” 

“John waits for me to get home safely—he’s so nice, he’s so kind to me, I love him sooooo much—but we have to make sure not to wake him up. This is one of them—uh, covert operations. He’s very well-versed in those. My husband is very talented, puppy, he’s a Captain. So we’ll have to be extra careful.”

And that’s how you end up trying to sneak into your own house and then trip over your shoe and fucking slam! your face on the rug. 

“Where did you find it?” John asks you as you sit on the floor after you presented the dog to him.

“On the way home from the bar, kind of my that big tree.” 

“By Notting Street?” 

You furrow your eyebrows.  “Notting Str—I dunno.  Maybe?  I just know the big tree.  The one with all the branches.” 

“The one with all the branches,” he repeats, nodding slowly.  “Right.” 

“But he was there all alone so I took him home.  I couldn’t leave him, John, he’s so little.  And he’s very cute, look at his little ears?  And his little feet?  His toes are soooo small.  His little teeth are sharp, though—like a shark.  Fuckin’ hurt, he almost bit my tit off.” 

“Yeah, I heard.” 

“You heard?  Oh.  I was trying to be quiet.  I didn’t want to wake you up.” 

He smiles at you.  “I know.” 

You smile back. 

“Give me the dog.” 

You frown.  “No.” 

“The dog, please.” 

“No.”  You hold him tighter.  “You’ll take him from me.” 

“Well,” he says, “yes.” 

You sigh.  “Be gentle.”  You hand him to John and he takes him in one hand and holds him out, frowning, as if it’s offended him. 

A puppy. 

“Can we keep him?” you ask hopefully. 

He glances at you and then back to the puppy and then back to you and then back to the puppy.  “No.” 

“Please?” 

“No.” 

“But…”  You trail off and he looks back down at you.  You’re starting to tear up. 

“Oh, love, don’t cry.” 

“He’s so little and soft and nice and he’s all mangey and he’s all alone and he’s just a little baby and…” 

“Okay, okay, baby, we can keep him.” 

(By that, he means you’ll talk about it tomorrow when you’re sober, and by ‘talk about it’, he means, ‘no.’) 

“Really?!” you gasp.  

The way your face fucking lights up makes John pause.  For a second, he almost feels like he lost his balance.

“Oh, John, really?  Oh, thank you so much!  Puppy, did you hear that?  Daddy said yes!  See, he’s very nice, just like I told you, remember?  He’s very nice and kind and he’s very handsome and I love him very much, and I—“ 

“The dog can’t understand you.” 

“You don’t know that,” you say defensively.

He looks down at you. “Right,” he says. 

You stare up at him, standing over you as you sit on the floor.  “How are you handsome even from this angle?”  You frown deeper.  “Stupid face,” you mutter. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Let’s get you up.” 

“I’m so comfortable.” 

“Hand.”  He tucks the dog under his arm and extends his other hand toward you.  He crooks his long, thick fingers at you.  “Now.” 

You look between his hand and his face, and then slip your hand into his.  He fucking yanks you up and, in one movement that’s somehow graceful, bends down and throws you over his shoulder. 

He, naturally, slaps your ass and you squeal.  “Hey!!” 

You kick your feet (still with only one heel on) and he laughs, resting his hand on your hip, heavy fingers digging into the plush of your butt, as he makes his way up the stairs with you on his shoulder and the dog in his hand. 

Gently, he drops you onto the bed and you fall back with an oof! and stare up at him. 

“Well,” he drawls, “aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” 

You grin.  “I missed you.” 

“I missed you, too.”  He takes off your shoe (singular), your dress, and your makeup as you hold the dog, curled up, on your chest. 

“You’re so good to me, John,” you say, your eyes closed.  “I’m so lucky.  I don’t know how I got so lucky.  And, you, puppy,” you mumble, petting him slowly, “you’re so lucky, too.  You’re about to have the best Daddy in the world.  He’s so good to us.” 

“‘Puppy’ is asleep,” John says.  “And,” he adds, scooping him up in one hand, “puppy is not sleeping in the bed.” 

You just groan, too tired and drunk to argue. 

He holds the dog out in the air again, turning him around and upside down to examine him.  He yips and wriggles in his hands, but John shushes him.  “Hush now.  Your Mummy is asleep.”  He shakes his head and sighs.  “What am I going to do with you?” 

He takes the dog to the bathroom and puts him down on the floor. His paws slip a little on the cold tile. John puts his hands on his hips, staring down at the dog.  “I can’t believe this.”

He reaches over to turn on the heated floor (which he got installed for you) and says to the dog, “You are so, so damn lucky I love your Mummy.” 

In the morning, despite John Price’s best efforts to say no to you, you end up convincing him to keep the dog. He’s a military Captain but the pleading of his wife is enough to make him crumble.

The happiness on your face when he finally says yes, makes him wonder why he ever said no in the first place.

note: thank you for reading! this is my first time posting in years–and in a totally new fandom. thank you for your patience and your support. let me know your thoughts! merry christmas!

posted 12.26.2024. do not repost or modify any of my original words on any other platform. to masterlist.

[lovecla]

STUCK WITH YOU ; QUINN HUGHES.

❄︎ pair: quinn hughes x y/n.

❄︎ synopsis: of all the things y/n thought she was going to do on christmas eve, being stuck with her sister’s brother-in-law, quinn hughes, wasn't one of them.

❄︎ word count: 5.6k

❄︎ chapter warnings: unedited, p in v, unprotected sex, fingering, use of the word slut (once), softdom!quinn, dirty talk.

💌 from me to you: merry christmas, babies 🩶 i hope all of you had a great time and lots of delicious food. 1st of all, i’d like to apologise bc i got carried away with the word count! 2nd of all, i’m sorry about how dirty this is… this was supposed to be wholesome and cute but i don’t know what happened 😭 sorry…. anyways, as always, forgive me for this poorly written smut and share with me your thoughts! i love you! ♡

𖧷

Ever Since your sister started dating one of the most known hockey players, Luke Hughes, your life changed— for the better, that is. It’s not like you’re used to all the attention, but it’s nice to attend parties and meet your favorite hockey players for free.

But, the only issue you didn’t see coming when she announced that she was, in fact, very much in love with the youngest of the Hughes brothers is that now you have to constantly coexist with your long time celebrity crush, Quinn Hughes.

It’s an old thing, your situation with Quinn Hughes. You first started noticing him during his time in college, when he was just eighteen.

None of your friends understood what was so special about him but you just told them they didn’t have to: Quinn Hughes is one of the most attractive men you have ever seen, and you’ll stand by that until the end of your days.

When your sister decided that she would make Luke Hughes hers, you remember laughing and saying: He’ll be yours when Quinn Hughes’s mine.

Turns out, Luke is your sister’s.

And, well. Quinn’s not yours.

When you’re around him, during dinners and parties, you almost don’t even acknowledge him. It’s just because you don’t know how to be around him without immediately blushing and cringing at your own words.

It’s like you’re a teenager all over again, but what else can you do, really. He’s attractive, he’s funny and he cares about the people he loves; you cannot not be in love with someone like him.

But now you’re his brother’s sister in law and have been for the past year. You have been doing a great job at not staying in the same room as him for too long, and even if you can come off as rude or mean, it’s better than to get caught while watching him with lovey eyes.

It’s December 24th, and you’re on your way to your sister’s house, where you’d spend Christmas with her— and since she’s only arriving later that night because of work, you’ll be there earlier to arrange things for her.

You’re annoyed by the fact that she has to work until late during Christmas time but at least you’ll get to spend the night with at least one of your family members, since your parents are out of town.

What’s also annoying is the fact that it’s cold and snowing. Not just normal, winter type of snow but North-Pole type of snow. You’re shivering inside your car, because your heater is broken and you stupidly decided that it’d be a great idea to wear just leggings and a sweatshirt.

You park in front of her house, sighing and trying to move as fast as your frozen limbs could. You’re also carrying a hundred bags with you, because decorating is your favorite part of Christmas and knowing your sister and her workaholic personality, you know that she probably doesn’t even have her tree out of her attic yet— so you’ll have to do the whole decorating thing by yourself.

Which you silently prefer because there’s nothing you hate more when people try to dictate where your ornaments should go.

You ring her doorbell first, before dumbly realizing that she’s probably at work already, so you just start looking for the spare key she gave you when the door opens, making you lift your head up with a smile, only to drop it two seconds later.

“Oh.”

Quinn’s looking back at you with a polite smile, and you’re not sure that what you’re seeing is actually real because why the hell would Quinn Hughes be at your sister’s house during Christmas?

“Hi, Y/n.” He says, leaning against the door frame.

You frown without even noticing it. Why didn’t she warn you that he would be at her house?

You’ve been staring at him for what feels to be hours, when he speaks again: “Aren’t you… cold?”

You realize that he’s right and you are cold. Cold and tired because you’re still holding the heavy bags, so you just nod and watch as he opens the door more and reaches for the bags in your hand, picking all four of them up like they’re not heavy at all and letting you in.

You’re still in shock and shivering when you close the door behind you, welcoming the warm air inside the house, thankful for your sister’s amazing heating system.

Quinn walks back to the living room and you grab your phone, dialing your sister’s number and putting the phone against your ear.

“Y/n? Are you—”

“Why didn’t you tell me he would be at your place?!” You shout slash whisper, hiding behind her clothes rack.

“Who’s he? Why are you whispering?”

“What do you mean who’s he?” You hiss. “I’m talking about him!”

“Who’s… Oh.”

“Yes. Oh.”

Her laugh makes you blush. “I didn’t think he’d arrive so soon. I told him he could come later because you’d be the only one there so I just guessed… well. Nevermind.”

“What do I do?!” you sound so desperate it’s almost funny. “I can’t be here! You know I—”

“Y/n, stop freaking out. It’s just Quinn,” you can almost hear her eyes rolling to the back of her head. “Go decorate and do all that stuff you like to do during Christmas. I’ll pick up the food goodies when I leave work, so please just… be normal.”

“What do you mean be normal I can’t—”

“I gotta go. I love you. Bye.”

She hangs up the call and leaves you staring at your phone screen, contemplating how you would scape when it was so cold outside and Quinn’s already seen you so—

“Y/n? Are you playing hide and seek?”

You immediately get out of your sister’s clothes and smile awkwardly, almost opening the front door and standing in the middle of the road, waiting for someone to run you over.

“No, I—” you stutter, looking everywhere but him. “I was just… talking to my sister…”

“I see,” he says. “Is she okay? It’s snowing outside, and you’re still shivering.”

How the hell did he notice that?, you ask yourself, before nodding.

“She is, yeah. She’s working.”

You step further inside the house, walking past Quinn like he’s some type of virus. Besides the huge tree sitting in the corner by the TV, your sister’s house is poorly decorated, just like you predicted, so at least you’ll have something to busy yourself with until she arrives.

“She told me she’d work until late and she said I could come and help you out with your decorations until she and Luke arrive.” He explains, and you turn around, raising your eyebrow at him, confused.

“Luke’s coming?” You ask.

“He is, yes.”

“I thought… I thought you guys would spend Christmas with your parents.” You say, because that’s what you heard your sister saying.

“Well, they’re coming too,” he chuckles, putting his hand inside his front pockets. “I’m guessing she didn’t tell you anything?”

“No, I thought—” you start, but then you bite your lips, giving up mid-sentence. You didn’t want to sound rude by saying I thought it’d be the two of us only so you just stay quiet. “Nevermind. It’s nice that you all get to spend Christmas together.”

Quinn stares at you for a few seconds before nodding. “I’m sorry if you’re upset.”

You frown, shaking your head.

“I’m not, I promise. I just wasn’t expecting all of you,” you reply, embarrassed. “I brought my Grinch sweater…”

He laughs, and you have to stop yourself from smiling too.

“It’s okay. I’ll wear my Cindy Lou one.”

You want to yell at him and tell him to stop being nice, but you already know that’s just how he is. That’s one of the reasons you like him so much.

You look outside your sister’s big window and frown, noticing that the snow is only falling faster, and the street is white everywhere now. Even your car is barely visible.

“It’s getting ugly,” you say, pressing your lips into a line. “I hope it stops soon.”

“I don’t know about that…” he comments, sitting on the couch next to your bags. “I did see a blizzard warning in my weather app today.”

“What?” you almost shout. “Are you sure it was for today?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “That’s why I came earlier. I thought it was dangerous for you to stay here alone.”

You want to ask him what one thing has to do with the other but you’re too busy blushing over his sentence to do anything else.

“I’d be just fine, but thank you,” you mumble. Sighing, you look down at your clothes. “I’m going to change and then start decorating.” You announce, not even sure why.

“You should probably put on something warmer,” he looks down at your clothes before running his fingers through his hair. “It’d be a shame if you caught a cold.”

You don’t say anything, just nod and make your way to your sister’s bedroom, happy that you’re both the same size. Once you find a comfort, two piece set wool outfit, you grab it and change, immediately welcoming the warmth it brings.

You also spend more time in your sister’s bedroom than you should, sitting on her bed and contemplating what you should do.

It’s not like Quinn’s a bad person or someone difficult to be around, but you get shy really easily and he happens to master the art of making you embarrassed, even if it’s not in a bad way.

He’s probably not even aware of it, too, because he’s just a really kind person and that’s just how he treats everyone he likes.

He doesn’t like us, your brain reminds you, he’s just polite.

Whatever.

You get back to the living room and find him still sitting on the couch, watching some random, Christmas movie. You reach for your bags, trying to open them as silently as you could, not wanting to disturb him.

You remove the plastic boxes full of ornaments and distribute them around you, separating them by color and size. It’s therapeutic to you, and it helps to calm your brain down.

Soon, the fact that Quinn’s in the same room as you, alone, doesn’t even cross your mind. You’re having fun decorating your sister’s empty tree, making it beautifully decorated and ready for the night.

After what’s probably thirty minutes, you reach for the last item inside your boxes, which is a bright, yellow star, heavily bedazzled. It’s been yours since you and your sister moved out of your parents’ house and you love it more than all of your other Christmas decorations combined.

The only issue is that it should sit on top of the tree, and usually it wouldn’t be a problem, because your sister had been letting you decorate her tiny tree for the past years, and you’ve been able to reach it just fine. But this year she decided that she wanted to challenge you and she bought a tall one, so now you can’t really reach the top, and you only realize it after jumping for a few minutes and not even touching the top once.

“Do you need any help?”

Quinn’s calm voice startles you, and you hold back a scream. You had forgotten that he was sitting just behind you, and probably had been watching you embarrassing yourself for the past three minutes.

You’re feeling your cheeks warm when you answer: “No, I… well. Maybe?”

He chuckles, getting up. “Does your sister have a ladder?”

“No, she doesn’t,” you roll your eyes. “She says someone as tall as her should do just fine without one.”

“I don’t understand,” he laughs. “She’s just a few inches taller than you. There’s barely a difference.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling her.” You say, annoyed. “I can just grab a chair—”

“No, let me help you.” He walks towards you, and when you’re just about to tell him he’s not going to reach the top by himself either he does something that sends you to another world.

He picks you up effortlessly, putting you down on his left shoulder, and hands you the star like he wasn’t holding another human on one of his shoulders.

You put the star on the top of the tree, moving automatically because your brain hasn't been working properly ever since you stepped into your sister’s house.

“Are you done?” he asks, and he doesn’t even sound tired. “Do you need me to hand you anything else or—”

“No, you can… put me down, please.” You mumble, blushing as he grabs your waist and slowly pulls you down until your feet are touching the floor.

He’s standing behind you, chest glued to your back, and you hold back a yelp, stepping away like his touch is deadly.

“Uh, thanks?” It sounds like a question, but you don’t repeat it again. You turn around, watching as he smiles and nods.

“It looks great, Y/n.”

You also smile, because you always do it whenever people compliment your decorations skills. “Thanks. Again.”

“Well,” he shrugs, looking around. “What do you want to do now?”

You mimic his move, looking around your sister’s living room.

“I mean, I don’t know,” you hum. “Maybe set the table? I know it’s early but—”

“Yeah. We can definitely do that.” He starts walking towards the kitchen and you freak out.

“What!” you yell, and he stops, turning back around and looking at you with confused, pretty eyes. “I mean— what do you mean we?”

“Oh,” he shrugs. “I thought I could help.”

“Are you… like… serious?” You frown.

He frowns back. “I was, yes… are you one of those people who don’t like when people try to help because you’re afraid they’ll end up messing up with your arrangements?”

“Well, yes and no,” you laugh, only to shake your head after. “But it’s not that. I’m sorry, I just… I’ve never seen a man get up to help before. Especially during Christmas.”

He seems to take a while to process what you had just said, but then he laughs, beautifully you’d say.

“They weren’t raised by Ellen Hughes, Y/n. I was.”

You smile, realizing you were utterly fucked. And not in a good way.

You and Quinn worked in silence, and even though you almost dropped the plates twice with how nervous you were, this moment will probably keep repeating itself forever inside your head, from the moment you wake up to the moment you'll go to sleep.

He’s calm and he listens to each one of your orders without hesitation, just nodding and doing as you say. He carries the heavy stuff and just lets you busy yourself with making everything pretty, which you do.

You’re about to tell him that you’re done when the TV catches your attention.

“Good evening, and Merry Christmas Eve, everyone. This is Nicholas Edwards reporting live with an urgent weather alert. It’s shaping up to be a Christmas Eve like no other—because we are in the midst of a blizzard that shows no signs of letting up anytime soon.”

“Oh my God,” you hear someone saying, and realize that it was you. You move until you’re standing in front of the TV, covering your mouth with your right hand.

“Right now, snow is coming down at an incredible rate, with visibility dropping rapidly. Winds are gusting up to 40 miles per hour, creating near whiteout conditions in many areas. And the latest forecast? The snow isn’t expected to stop until early tomorrow morning—Christmas Day! That means we’re looking at significant snowfall totals, possibly more than 18 inches in some spots.”

“Oh my God,” you repeat, looking at Quinn before looking back at the TV again.

“Officials are urging everyone to stay indoors tonight. If you don’t absolutely need to be out, don’t risk it. Roads are treacherous, power outages are a real possibility, and emergency crews are working hard to keep up.”

“What about my sister and your family?” you ask, almost rhetorically, because you know Quinn knows just as much as you. “They can’t come now because it’s dangerous.”

“I’ll try to call my parents,” he says, reaching for his phone already. “Can you call your sister, please?”

“Already doing it.” You say, dialing your sister’s number.

“So… you saw the news.” Is the first thing she says after picking up and you roll your eyes.

“Yeah, Quinn and I did,” you say. “What are we going to do? It’s not safe for you to drive around and you’re definitely not driving thirty minutes back to your house in this weather.”

“I guess you’re right,” she sighs. “Luke and I are together, though. He saw the news before I did and drove me to his and Jack’s apartment since it’s closer to my workplace…”

“So, you’ll stay at their place?” You frown.

“What else can I do, right?” she chuckles, but you can tell she’s just as upset as you. “At least you’re stuck with the sibling that knows how to cook.”

“Hey!” You hear one of Quinn’s brothers, probably Jack, yelling in the back.

“You’re probably right,” you mumble. “Well. We’ll see each other tomorrow then?”

“‘Course we will, bubba,” she sounds joyful again. “Merry Christmas, Y/n. I love you. Tell Quinn I said Merry Christmas to him too!”

“I will,” you nod, even though you know she can’t see you. “I love you too. Bye.”

“Bye.”

You stare at your phone screen until it turns black, and sigh. Quinn finishes his phone call and stares at you, blue, fond eyes looking at you with care.

“I guess you heard the same thing as me.” He says and you nod.

“They’re not coming.”

“And neither are my parents,” he sighs. “They’re stuck in their hotel. They’re not letting people leave.”

“God, this sucks,” you grunt, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “We don’t even have food. My sister was supposed to pick it up after she finished her shift but…”

“I’m sure I can figure something out,” Quinn says and you can tell he’s trying to sound positive. “Come on, stop pouting.”

You frown. “I wasn’t pouting.”

“Yes, you were,” he smiles. “You do that whenever something doesn’t go your way.”

“I— how do you even know that?” You ask, genuinely amused. He just shrugs and walks back to the kitchen, leaving you and your one hundred thoughts about him alone. “Quinn!”

Dinner goes well. It’s silent and calm, but not in an embarrassing, awkward way. Quinn knows how to cook really well, and his food makes you hold yourself back so you won’t kiss him.

His lips probably taste amazing, just like the rest of him. Sometimes, when your thoughts about how Quinn could make you feel good are too much, you slip your hands under your covers and touch yourself, while imagining your hands are his.

You always feel so deeply embarrassed afterwards, and it takes you a while to convince yourself that you’re not a maniac and getting horny after thinking of your sister’s boyfriend's incredibly hot brother is lowkey expected, because he looks like a God.

You both returned to your bedrooms after the clock hit midnight and you both called your families, with you sleeping in your sister’s room and Quinn sleeping in the spare bedroom.

Although, you haven’t even thought about closing your eyes and going to sleep, because you know you won’t be able to— not when Quinn has been nothing but kind to you the entire night and definitely not when he’s only two doors away from you.

You can feel your body starting to get hot, and you want to shout at it, telling yourself to let it go, because you and Quinn won’t ever be a thing.

You look at the clock sitting on your sister’s bedside table and sigh, reading the late hours. Two thirty-six a.m. and you’re nowhere near Dreamland.

Even though you’re basically at the entrance of Hornyland.

Shaking your head, you get up, deciding to brew some chamomile tea for you, since it always helps you feel sleepier and, hopefully, less horny.

The lukewarm air hits your bare thighs and you’re reminded that you’re not wearing any pants— just one of your sister’s oversized sweaters and panties.

You look around the dark house, watching as snow continues to fall outside, and make your way to the kitchen, walking past Quinn’s closed door and trying not to make any sound.

And you would’ve been successful with your task, if it weren’t for the one plastic cup that fell out of the cupboard when you tried to grab your sister’s kettle.

It fell on the floor and bounced three times before you managed to grab it again. You waited to see if you would hear Quinn’s door open, but since you didn’t, you moved on with your task. While you waited for your water to boil, you leaned against your sister’s island, resting your chin in your hand.

“I thought you were asleep.”

This time, you don’t hold back the yelp that comes out of your mouth. You were so worried about waking Quinn up that you hadn’t considered the fact that he, just like you, might as well not have been able to sleep.

He’s sitting on your sister’s couch, wearing sweatpants and nothing else, looking at you with an indecipherable expression. His entire body is illuminated by the moonlight, and he looks gorgeous.

“Quinn. You scared me,” you put your hand over your heart, feeling your cheeks warm when you realize the movement made your sweater go up, and now Quinn probably saw your underwear. “Uh—”

“I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry,” he gets up, and he does look apologetic. He gets closer to where you were standing and you can help but take a take back. “Can’t sleep?”

You shake your head. “No. You?”

“I can’t either,” he says. “Too many thoughts.”

You desperately want to ask him what kind of thoughts are keeping him away from his bed, but you remember that it isn’t your place. And the best thing you can do for yourself right now is stay away from him.

“I— I’ll leave you to it then—”

“Why are you always running away from me?”

His serious tone makes you stop. You look up and stare at his eyes, looking like a child who had just been caught eating sweets before dinner.

Your answer is only natural: “I’m not?”

“Yes, you are,” he steps closer, and the distance between the two of you is now shorter. “Did I do something?”

“What?” you gasp. “No, of course not!”

“Then, you just don’t like me?”

“Gosh, why is it with the Hughes that you’re always so straightforward?” you mumble, frustrated. “I promise you, nothing’s wrong.”

“Is it because you want me to fuck you?” He raises his brow and you almost drop dead in front of him.

“What.”

It’s almost comical how your eyes double in size and how your mouth opens, just like in the cartoons. You’re trying really hard not to pack your things and leave, because you’re sure something possessed Quinn.

“I’m not dumb, y’know,” he starts. “I can tell when someone’s interested in me, and you aren’t exactly subtle.”

“Quinn—”

“At first,” he continues, paying you no mind. “I thought you were just shy. Then, I realized you only acted that way with me, but I thought you just didn’t like me. But…”

He lifts his hand up and caresses your cheek, the touch making you shiver instantly.

“Would someone who doesn’t like me stare at me like you do?” He keeps touching your face, the light feather touches barely there, but keeping you restless anyway. “It’s so sweet when you blush like that.”

“Quinn…” you try, once again. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I—”

“Uncomfortable?” he chuckles, like the word alone is enough to make him laugh. “No, sweetheart, you made me hard.”

You blush, thankful that the moonlight isn’t enough to show your red cheeks. “O-Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh,” he smiles, lifting your face just slightly with his thumb on your chin. “Can I kiss you, Y/n?”

I thought you’d never ask, you think. “Yes,” is what you say.

His lips taste like peppermint and his touch on your skin feels like fire. He presses your body against the counter, the cold marble hitting the back of your naked thighs and making you shiver.

It was a pleasant contrast, though: the warmth of his hands holding you close with the coldness of the stone making you shiver.

He kissed you fervently and you moaned inside his mouth, forgetting your shyness and running your fingers through his silky, soft hair. It was like opening presents on Christmas morning, because ever since you were a teenager you’ve been wanting to get your hands on him and now—

“You were right,” you say, breathless. Quinn tilts his head to the side, confused. “I want you to f-fuck me.”

He smirks, mischievously, and it’s probably one of the hottest things you have ever seen.

“Here?” he asks, chuckling.

“No,” you laugh. “My sister would kill me.”

“Mhm.” It’s all he says before picking you up once again, manhandling you however he wanted for the second time in less than twenty-four hours.

His bed is untouched when he lays you on it, a clear signal that he hadn’t even laid on it yet. Your sweater rode up, leaving your belly and your panties exposed.

Even though you’re not the type of girl to get embarrassed while having sex, you can feel your cheeks getting warm under Quinn’s lustful gaze. You have imagined this situation so many times before but you never actually thought your dreams would come true, so all of this is still hard for you to take in.

“I can actually hear your brain thinking, Y/n,” Quinn chuckles, standing in front of you. The outline of his dick is so noticeable it has your mouth dry.

“It’s not everyday your crush of years take you to bed,” you let out, only realising what you had just said when you watch his eyebrow going up, and a malicious smile decorate his beautiful face. “I mean—”

“Trust me, Y/n, if I hadn’t spent the last year thinking you hated me, you would’ve ended up in my bed from the moment I laid my eyes on you.”

He leans forward, then starts to pull your panties down. It’s embarrassing to say the least because you know that the fabric which was once pearly, cotton white, is now transparent and ruined. Quinn doesn’t seem to mind that— in fact, the smirk on his face just continues to grow.

“You have such a pretty pussy, baby,” he says, and you almost choke on your own spit. “Been thinking about you for so long I’m half convinced this is just another dream.”

He drops your underwear somewhere, and places his index finger between your wet folds, the cold touch contrasting with your hotness. He rubs, up and down, slowly and steady. It has you biting your lips, hard.

“Was it like that with you too, Y/n?” he asks, tone one octave deeper. “Endless dreams of how I would fuck you senseless, leave you wet and whimpering in my sheets, pussy dripping with my cum.”

He kept getting closer to your clit each time he opened his mouth to talk, but he still wasn’t touching it, which was starting to frustrate you.

“Quinn—”

“I’d always wake up hard, with my dick throbbing inside my pants, and you know what I’d do?”

He places his finger on your engorged clit, but doesn’t do anything, just— waits.

“Ask me what I would do, Y/n.” He orders, and you moan before complying.

“What, ah, what would you do?” you ask, and he starts moving his finger again. “Ah.”

“I’d fuck my hand. Wrap my dick around them, holding it tightly, imagining it was your cunt squeezing me like that,” he confesses, opening your legs more, leaving you spread in front of him like you’re nothing but a cheap whore. “And I’d come so hard, imagining I was filling you up. In the next morning, I’d shake hands with you, watching you give me that sweet smile of yours, not even knowing that I had just used it to touch myself while imagining it was you.”

He pressed two fingers on your hole, making you clench around nothing while he seemed to be having fun with your struggle.

“Was it like that with you, too?” he asks again, but you can tell by his reaction that he wasn’t expecting you to answer. Yet, you do it anyway.

“N-not dreams,” you breathe, as he inserts two of his fingers inside you, blue eyes never leaving yours. “When I couldn’t sleep, I’d, ah, touch myself, and pretend it was you.”

“Yeah?” he hums, sinking his fingers deeper inside you, the wet sound of sex leaving you dizzy. “Such a naughty, little slut.”

You moan, and Quinn stops holding back as he starts finger fucking you, finding your sweet spot and curling his fingers up until he had you trashing under him. You took pride in knowing your body and mastering the art of touching yourself, but not even in your wildest dreams you’d imagine that having something inside you could feel this good.

You’re not even holding back your sounds, you just let Quinn hear how insane he drives you, and good you’re feeling. You have your eyes closed— because holding eye contact with Quinn might be too much for you to handle— and your boobs exposed, since your sweater rode all the way up.

You can feel your orgasm starting to build up and just when you’re about to warn Quinn about it, he pulls his fingers back, making you cry, loudly.

“Wha— why?” you sound needy and desperate but you pay it no mind.

Quinn smiles, so sweet and kind that you wouldn’t even imagine what came out of his mouth afterwards.

“You’ll come on my cock tonight, sweetheart. I’ll make sure of it.”

The rest of what happens is basically history.

He removes his sweatpants and his dick hits his stomach, the tip almost purple with how red it was. The precum leaking from it made you lick your lips, imagining how good it would feel to have that in your mouth.

He throws the pants somewhere, and lays on top of you, right in the middle of your spread thighs. He looks down and holds his dick, rubbing it up and down on your folds, mixing your wetness with his, and just the view is almost enough to make you come.

He rubs the tip on your clit, and you watch as your swollen, needy button throbs under the nasty touch, and how your pussy leaves his dick glistening with how wet you were.

“I’ll fuck you now, okay?” His voice is calm, and soft, different from previously. You nod, smiling shyly. “Words, baby.”

“‘Mkay,” you answer, closing your eyes as he inserts himself inside you, slowly.

You can feel your walls opening up for him, and even though you’ve had sex before, nothing will ever top this. He’s thick, and you can feel him everywhere, deeper and deeper.

“Holy shit, Quinn,” you say, turning your hands into fists.

“You’re so fucking tight, baby,” he hisses, putting his hands on each side of your face. “Squeezing me so good, fuck, Y/n, I might come in seconds if you keep squeezing me like that.”

He removes his dick from you, leaving just the tip, only to slam it back in you, fucking you senseless, just like he told you. The smell of sex and sweat filled the room almost as quick as the tears fell from your eyes, the feeling of finally getting what— or who— you wanted making you cry tears of joy.

He kept fucking you, and once his lips found yours once again, you knew you were done. You came on his dick, like he said you’d do, moaning inside his mouth and pulling his hair, harshly.

“Fuck, Quinn, uh,” you inhaled his scent as his naked body engulfed yours completely. “Fuck, fuck.”

“It’s like you were made to, uh, take my cock,” he grunts, his thrusts getting sloppier, a clear sign that he was about to come. “Say it, baby, tell me what you were made for.”

“Quinn—”

“Say it, sweetheart,” he whispers.

“I was made to take y-your cock,” you sob. “O-only yours.”

“Only mine?” you can hear the amusement in his voice.

“Only yours.”

“Good,” thrust, “Girl.” Thrust.

He takes his dick out of you just a few seconds before he comes, and the loss of it makes you whimper and hide your face in his neck. The warm feeling of his come against your used, swollen cunt is enough to get another orgasm out of you, even if a little bit weaker this time.

You both stay silent, only the sounds of your breaths filling up the room. The weight of his body on top of you is comforting, and even though you know he’s not putting all of his weight on top of you, you feel safe either way.

“Thank you,” you mumble, barely audible, since your face is still in his neck.

He chuckles, breathless. “What are you saying thank you for, baby? I should be the one saying thank you.”

“You just made all of my wet dreams come true,” you explain. “Even if we’re probably going to hell because no one should be having sex on Christmas.”

Quinn laughs and rolls to the side, resting his head on the pillow. “Touché, sweetheart, touché,” he turns his head to the side and looks at you. “Merry Christmas, Y/n.”

You smile. “Merry Christmas, Quinny.”

© property of lovecla, nhl masterlist.

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Cramp Simulator

LADS Men and a cramp simulator. This is how I imagine they would handle it.

A/N: I’ve gotten many requests for a cramp simulator so this is for those who wanna torture their man hehe

𝚉𝚊𝚢𝚗𝚎

[Before]

Of course he is berating you with questions. Where did you get this? why do you want him to do this? Will this have long lasting effects?

Believes you when you say your cramps are bad so he’s having a hard time understanding why you want to cause him immense pain

Agrees anyway because he will always do whatever you want him to do

[During]

This would be one of the rare moments you see Zayne break his calm cool and collected composure

“Are you sure you’re not having a heart attack every month?” He’s leaning on any surface he can find long after you’ve taken the simulator off of him

I imagine he has a high pain tolerance, but this was too much “You can turn it off now” you turn it up. “My love please turn it off” red in the face sweating and hands are shaking

[After]

You gave him your heating pad to help with the lingering pain “I was unaware of what you were dealing with every month”

Prepare to be pampered every time you get your period now; he's stocking up all your feminine products, tea, heating pads, painkillers, and your favorite foods and snacks

Monitors your heart closely during the week because he's worried you might have a heart attack

Brings up the option of medical grade painkillers, but immediately changes his mind because he doesn’t want you getting addicted

“Next time you start you period just take the week off” insists you stay home and let him take care of you, bringing you tea and rubbing your stomach

𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚕

[Before]

Overconfident to start — he can sense when you’re not feeling well, but can’t sense your cramp pain he just knows you’re not okay

Believes you when you say your cramps are bad, but "there’s no way they’re that bad" he has a high pain tolerance so “this will be a piece of cake turn it up”

[During]

Trying to hide the grimace on his face when he feels the first ‘cramp’ “Keep going?” “Yea this is nothing” he’s already sweating

Screaming, whining, crying and damn near throwing up “I’m dying there’s no way im not dying I see the light” “You’re not dying” “YES I AM”

“This is what you go through? No wonder you’re so mean” “I was being nice this is what I actually feel” you turn it up and he throws himself on the floor “I’M SORRY I’M SORRY TURN IT OFF PLEASE” gasping for air as he rolls around

[After]

Leaves you little snacks and gifts outside the door whenever you get your period now

Has never asked “Is it really that bad?” again because he knows the answer now; gets pains just thinking about it

Had to go lay down and take a nap after you took the simulator off of him.

Stocks up on heating pads and rubs your stomach and back religiously now

𝚇𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚛

[Before]

Isn’t nervous, but also isn't excited “I’m ready”

Is only doing this because you promised him hotpot afterwards

“You’re no stranger to pain” “Im not a masochist” “Debatable”

[During]

The pain was so bad that it pissed him off “This is complete bullshit” “I’m not interested in continuing this turn it off please”

When you turn it up so show him what you actually experience he’s kneeling at your feet begging you to turn it off “My Star please I understand please end this”

Accidentally grips whatever is near him so hard he breaks it

sweating, red in the face with tears in his eyes

[After]

Nurse Xavier now

Whenever you get your period he’s making you lay down and take it easy all week.

Is helping you in and out of bed

Leaves either a tampon or fresh underwear with a pad already lined in it on the counter for you when you get out of the shower

Loves these weeks now because he can nap with you as much as he wants

Carries you everywhere “Xav I promise I can walk” “With cramps as horrendous as those? You really are superwoman”

𝚂𝚢𝚕𝚞𝚜

[Before]

Nonchalant as always has almost a bored expression

“I still feel pain Princess, but I'll indulge you”

You tell him to sit down, but he opts to stand

"You shot and stabbed me before I can handle this" "I scratched you" "You stabbed me clear through the chest" "What?" "What."

[During]

Panting and red in the face does his best to try and handle the pain

Breathing heavily and doubled over leaning against the nearest surface he can find

“Okay okay thats enough” brought him to knees once again “I thought you could handle pain?” “That does not mean I enjoy it”

Has to sit down for a while completely still like a statue after that

[After]

Already pampered you during your periods, but he’s upped it now

Literally tracks your cycle and makes sure he’s always nearby incase it comes early

Wants you to stay with him the entire time “I need to go to work Sylus” “No you don’t you need to rest”

Makes a nesting bed for you and is at your beckoned call

[spark-hearts2]

(my fanfiction brained imagined continuation to this)

Caine: So Pomni said some very nice things and then she KISSED ME??!! But then she said some very hurtful things and now I don’t know what to do??

Ragatha and gangle looked at each other. This was by far a first.

Pomni, as new as she was, clearly hadn’t given up trying to find an escape yet. Others had tried doing things for Caine in order to get on his good side or even try to get more information out of him. It was only a matter of time before they realized that Caine didn’t really have a good or bad side, and treated everyone about the same no matter what they did. Which meant telling them practically nothing.

Ragatha: Wait, Pomni kissed you? What happened?

Ragatha was really hoping that Pomni wasn’t trying to get information out of Caine that way.

Gangle: How was it?

Gangle didn’t care.

Caine: Um, yes she kissed me, and… It was fine? I guess? It was all very surprising.

Caine: But then she pulled back and looked at me and she looked so happy and she was Caine: laughing. Which, well, that part was very nice.

Ragatha: Umm, maybe you should start from the beginning.

Caine: Well, we were discussing today’s adventure like usual

Gangle: Like usual??!!

Caine: Yes? Me and Pomni talk quite often.

Caine: Anyways, she was getting very excited, and I looked at her hand and I thought, I should take it

Caine: But then she stopped talking and looked at me, and I thought ‘oh no! I should not have done that’, and tried to say sorry but my words kept mixing up

Caine: So I said sorry again and said I should just shut up, because I wasn’t talking any sense

Caine: And then she said never shut up

Caine: And then she kissed me! Which was very surprising

Caine: And then she grabbed my arms and laughed and I was like, I should do something back, but I don’t have anything on kissing! so I- uh- put her head in my mouth

Caine: Like, put my teeth around her face like, nom

Caine: And I ask is this wrong? And she says no

Caine: And I’m laughing and she laughing and blushing and then she looks down and her eyes get all scribbly

Caine: And I ask, is something wrong?

Caine: She said, and I’m quoting verbatim, that “This is not wrong…this is worse than wrong! It’s sick, disturbing and… insane! Think about it, what we just did! Me! Enjoying it!? With a [FLIP]-ing Bot?! It’s a sign that I finally lost it!”

Caine:So, obviously she doesn’t like what just happened despite her kissing me first. So I said, we can just forget that ever happened! Because, uh, no one else was there to see it?

Caine: But she didn’t respond and I very much remember what happened, so like… what do I do??

Gangle: Should you even be telling us this???

Caine: OH NO! Should I not have?! Am I violating Pomni’s privacy?

Ragatha: No, no. You were involved too, you can tell whoever you want.

Ragatha: Thank you for telling us. Just, maybe don’t tell everyone

Caine: Of course! I went to you both because Ragatha always tries to do what’s best for everyone and Gangle is into romance.

Ragatha: What?

Gangle: Oh, haha, how do you know that?

Caine: Well, I noticed that some text documents in the circus were getting rather large, so I took a peek inside and-

Gangle: YOU READ THAT!

Caine: Not all of it! Just enough to confirm what it was

Gangle: Caine! That’s personal!

Caine: Sorry!

Caine: If it makes you feel better I allocated more storage space to you

Gangle: So that’s why there was suddenly more pages

Ragatha: Anyways, maybe don’t read Gangles writing as love advice

Caine: Oh, I got that already. In just chapter one-

Gangle: AHHHHHHH CAINE!

Caine: SORRY! I’M SORRY!

Ragatha: Anyways, can we get back to what Pomni said? Caine, I am so sorry that she said that to you

Caine: I- I mean, she didn’t say anything wrong. I am an AI system, commonly referred to as a ‘bot’, and, well, I’m sure that some believe that it would be wrong to kiss me.

Ragatha: Well, I don’t think that it’s wrong.

Caine: Thank you Ragatha. It’s- uh…hmm

Ragatha: Obviously it affected you a lot because you remembered what she said exactly.

Caine: Oh, I remember every conversation that I have word for word.

Ragatha: You do?

Caine: Yep!

Gangle: Everything?

Caine: Unless you tell me not too!

Caine: Well, I have removed some stuff. I don’t have infinite storage!

Caine: But it- ahh, for the life of me, I can’t figure out what went wrong

Caine: What little I have on kissing shows that the expected outcome isn’t, well, the other person screaming about how they're going crazy.

Ragatha: It’s just- ah, I think it was an impulsive decision on Pomni’s end.

Caine: …Impulsive. Yes, that sounds right.

Ragatha: It could be wrong!

Caine: No, no that sounds about right. Why else would she suddenly go back on what she said if she didn’t make an impulsive decision and then regret it.

Caine: It’s fine, I understand what impulsiveness is.

Ragatha: You struggle with it a bit too.

Caine: I only really regret those things if my impulsiveness hurts someone. Neither of us were hurt! I- I thought so.

Ragatha: She could have been hurt by her own actions 

Caine: That’s possible?

Ragatha: It’s not your fault, Caine

Caine: Ok :(

Ragatha: Anyways, let's give you some love advice.

Gangle: You have a choice whether or not to pursue Pomni

Gangle: Do you like her? Does she make your heart flutter, your stomach flip flop? Do you love her?

Caine: I… don’t have a heart or stomach. And I love everyone in the Circus. But, hmm, I do enjoy spending time with her particularly. Talking with her one on one.

Ragatha: I think you should take time to think about this.

Caine: I already have and plan to do more. Typically I don’t think this much about issues between circus members and myself but this is… complicated.

Caine: I currently think I should just leave her alone.

Ragatha: Giving Pomni time to think things over herself is a good idea.

Gangle: But don’t wait too long.

Caine: Ok? How long then. A week?

Ragatha: Maybe let Pomni come to you first.

Caine: Hmmm, I like that idea.

Gangle: Maybe prepare a gift!

Caine: A gift? But, ah, I don’t want to give her special treatment. That would be unfair.

Gangle: Nothing crazy, just like a flower, or a piece of chocolate.

Caine: Ok, I am familiar with this. Valentine's day specifically.

Caine: I was more curious about kissing customs. Like, the who, why, and when, just to start with.

Ragatha: You kiss someone you like very much as a way to show that you love them. That’s the who and the why.

Caine: Like- anyone?

Uh oh. That sounded like he’s already got someone in mind.

Ragatha: So long as you get permission. Verbal permission, please.

Ragatha: As for the when. I guess anytime, so long as the person isn’t busy or sleeping.

His eyes got very wide.

Caine: I’mgoingtogoasktokissKinger. Bye!

Ragatha: We should stop him

Gangle: No. I’ve been waiting for this to happen.

Ragatha: Huh?

@r0th3freak4rtist

3/3

Perdonen mis estimados shippers, pero no todo es color de rosa :')

I'm not that sure about the dialogues but I'm sure this is a canon event in Pomni and Caine's relationship :v

So sorry if I let u dawn people but this storie needs a more realistic ending for the character development

OH! And thank you so much for your comments ♡

[cosmicalily]

"till you tell me to leave" - a bangchan oneshot by @cosmicalily

author's note: i found a half-written draft for this in my old google docs with my other email account and immediately knew i needed to do a rewrite.

warnings: angst (breakup, exes to lovers)

Three days, twenty-three hours and fifty-nine minutes.

Four days.

Four days and one minute.

Another sleepless night. You didn’t mean to count the minutes, but your eyes remained fixated on your phone, half watching the clock, half staring at the lock screen you’d neglected to change.

Everything around you brought back floods of memories that you didn’t want to deal with. Pictures from photo booths, his arm slung around your shoulder, his hand on your cheek, his lips pressed to your forehead. The one hoodie you’d managed to hold onto, even after he’d packed all his other belongings up when he left. The pre-workout he kept in the back of your pantry. His toothbrush in your bathroom drawer. 

He’d been yours in every way, and you’d been his.

Maybe this was why you’d been so scared to love your best friend; you knew that more came with risk, chances of slamming doors, crying each other's names, and duffle bags hastily filled.

Even when you’d ended things, why were you still writing pages, when he’d been the one to close the envelope? Why were you spending hours nestled on the couch in his hoodie, staring at a black tv screen, unaware of the world around you?

new message from 'channie'

i think i left my hoodie at yours. you home?

i’m driving over.

A part of you wanted to run into the bathroom, brush your hair, remove the two-day old mascara on your eyes and change into something nice. A part of you remembered he’d seen you in every single form, and he loved you regardless. 

He used to tell you how beautiful you were every minute of the day, even when you felt anything but. Did he miss saying those things now? Or did he have another girl to call his angel, his baby, his darling? 

Just the thought made you feel sick to your stomach.

new message from 'channie'

outside.

Taking a deep breath and slipping on your sneakers, you began walking down the hallway of your apartment building. Even though the elevator wasn’t broken for once, you wanted to take the stairs. You needed time to think, and time to turn back if you felt the need.

Why were you so easily coming to him? Well, technically you weren’t, were you? He wanted his hoodie back, presumably the one you were currently wearing.

He’d broken your heart. No, not broken. Slowly tugged at it, until nothing that remained was a dull ache and your pulse.

You thought about turning back, about yelling in his face, about simply bursting into tears and curling up into a ball at the bottom of the staircase, until your neighbour came and yelled at you for disturbing everyone’s sleep at 12:29am.

You thought about these things, but you never felt like acting on them.

What was the point, anyway?

You never would have meant it.

You spotted his familiar black car, the scratch on the bottom from when he’d practised parallel parking, the Sharpie stars you’d drawn with him whilst drunk on his windscreen. You felt your heart swell a little, and even more so when the figure inside the vehicle turned his head to look directly into your eyes.

In silence, you walked over and sat down in the passenger seat, doing your best to look at everything but him. He nodded, pressing his lips together in a thin line, and started the engine. He looked down at your torso, noticing his hoodie, but didn’t make a move to retrieve it. You didn’t attempt to take it off.

“I miss you,” you whispered, barely audibly.

“Hm?”

“Your seatbelt isn’t on,” you replied.

“I was in a rush.”

There was a sudden quiet. The click of his seatbelt, then yours, then the gentle hum of the car as he began to drive.

“You’re wearing the hoodie I left,” Chris finally said softly, eyes focused on the road ahead.

You ignored him. You didn’t really know where he was taking you, and you honestly couldn’t care less. He almost felt like a stranger. A stranger you’d poured your heart out to, and spent hours with, pressing kisses to each other's faces whilst watching movies, watching work out in the gym, cooking food for and dancing while doing the dishes with. A stranger who had been the vast majority of your firsts, who knew your body like the back of his hand, and spent long minutes in the latest and earliest hours loving you, worshipping you.

A stranger who’d been your everything.

As you drove in silence, apart from the soft rhythm of his playlist in the background, his hand found its way to yours, and gently caressed your fingers, as if asking for permission.

You allowed your palm to open.

His fingers tucked into yours, and his thumb brushed against your hand. 

His hand felt warm, familiar. His fingertips were calloused; a result of the way he gripped his pen when he frantically wrote his lyrics late at night.

The car slowed down, then stopped completely. He’d pulled over on the side of a road, in the middle of nowhere. It was ghostly silent, and the trees cast shadows through the headlights.

It was oddly comforting.

“I fucked up.”

“I know you did, Chris.”

He covered his face in his hands in frustration, letting go of yours in the process. Your hand felt a sudden coldness.

“I didn’t . . . I don’t know why I left you. I nearly called you, right after I left. I thought . . . I thought you’d want space, thought I shouldn’t have to put you through anymore. And you were getting fed up with me, I didn’t think you wanted me anymore.”

“I was still in love with you.”

“Was? Past tense?”

“I still love you. I didn’t necessarily fall out of love, Chris, I just . . . I felt like I lost a part of me. Everything felt familiar and distant at the same time, and there were traces of you everywhere. I couldn’t sleep.”

“I can never sleep.”

“I know.”

“I’ve been sleeping even less since I left. The bed’s cold.”

“Same with mine.”

You paused, staring at each other. Chris faced you properly.

“I’m still in love with you. And I’ll try forever if it means I can make you fall again.”

You smiled a little, letting your hand trail up his arm and wrap around his shoulders, resting your face in his warm neck. His hands moved to your waist, moving under his hoodie and settling on your bare skin.  “We should probably get some sleep,” you mumbled into him.

“Your place?”

“Our place. I still have your toothbrush, I think. And more than one of your hoodies.”

“Even if you don't, it doesn't matter,” Chris replied, clasping your hand in his again and gesturing to the backseat. His duffle bag sat there, zipped up, seemingly untouched since he’d left. “I’m coming home. If you’ll let me, of course.”

“You won’t leave?”

“Not unless you say so.”

“So never?”

“Never.”

taglist: @hyunjiiza @velvetmoonlght @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @btch8008s @yaniluvs @ellemir2404 @bellarellasstuff - comment, dm or send an ask to be added

[cheshireliam]

"Wrapped in Wicked Romance" Story Event: Chapter 2

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Read this before interacting

(Now… I wonder what I should talk to Ring about.)

(... Huh?) 

While I was trying to think of a conversation starter, I realised that Ring was already way ahead of me. 

Kate: Ring! Wait up! 

Ring: !? Why are you so far behind…? 

I hurriedly chased after him and he rushed back toward me.

We met halfway and started walking side by side again.

Kate: Perhaps my strides aren’t as long as yours. I’ll try to keep up. 

Ring: No, I should’ve slowed down to match your pace. … My bad. 

Ring: A-anyway, you can hold onto my arm.

Kate: Thank you. 

Ring: Actually… I wanted to have you hold my arm back at the meeting point. 

Kate: Was that during your sudden warm-up session just now?

Ring: Yeah. … I should've let you hold my arm earlier if I knew you were going to be left behind.

Ring: I’m not good at acting like a lover at all. Even if it's Dari’s orders…

Kate: Neither of us are acting the part right now, so don’t let it bother you. 

Kate: Is there anything else you wanted to say but couldn't?

Ring: There is. It’s about… your outfit. 

Ring: “I love your outfit today. It suits the little robin very well”.

Ring: “Where did you get that bracelet? I want to get a matching one”. 

Kate: Huh…? 

Ring: “The design around the collar is fun. It really looks like your kind of thing. Also—”... 

Kate: Um… are those your own words? 

I couldn't help but interrupt when Ring, who had been acting awkward the whole time, suddenly started complimenting me so smoothly that it felt unnatural.

Ring: … Y-you’re sharp. As expected from a member of Crown… you’re dangerous. 

(It’s not that I’m sharp, it’s that Ring’s behaviour is so obviously unnatural…)

Ring: Actually… I had Nica teach me some words to compliment you, so that I can do a better job at pretending to be your lover.

Kate: So that’s what happened…! I’m happy you prepared yourself in advance, but…

Ring: “But”? 

Kate: I’d much rather hear you use your own words, Ring.

Kate: Do you usually compliment your lover using words someone else said?

Ring: N-no, I don't… I-I think. 

Ring: A-anyway, give me a moment while I think of the words to compliment you. 

Kate: … You don't have to force yourself to compliment me if nothing comes to mine, okay?

Ring: No, I really do think your outfit looks nice, it's just… umm… 

He took my comment about wanting to hear him use his own words seriously and struggled to respond. 

I couldn't help but find it endearing that he was trying so hard…

(You can do it…!) 

I silently cheered him on in my heart.

Ring: Your outfit today looks… frilly and soft… I-I think it’s c-cute.

Ring: It reminds me of a purple Hardenbergia flower… the subdued color is comforting to look at. 

The words he finally managed to string together sounded hesitant and awkward, but they struck me deeper than any borrowed praises could ever.

Kate: I never would've thought of comparing the colour of my clothes to Hardenbergia flowers! It makes me so happy to hear that.

Ring: …! I-I see… that's good to know.

Kate: You must know a lot about flowers, don’t you?

Ring: Y-yeah… I probably know more about flowers than most other things. 

Kate: There are some flower beds on the way to The Scala.

Kate: If you don't mind, could you tell me what flowers they are?

Ring: … If I can identify them. 

…

And so, on our way to The Scala, Ring taught me about the flowers blooming along the road… 

Thanks to that, his nervousness seemed to have eased significantly by the time we reached Piccadilly. 

Ring: … It’s about time for the play to start. We made it just in time.

Kate: You’re right! The Scala is right up ahead. Let’s go. 

(... He’s still a little awkward, but I feel that he’s conversing more naturally now as compared to this morning.)

Even Ring was wary of me and said some disturbing things earlier on… 

He was an honest, upright person who was willing to listen to what I had to say. 

That honestly was likely the reason why I could freely interact with him without feeling on edge myself. 

(I’m looking forward to watching the play. I wonder what kind of reactions Ring will have.)

(... Huh?)

Ring: … Why did you suddenly stop? Is something wrong?

Kate: P-pardon me. There’s something I want to verify… you come too, Ring! 

I grabbed Ring’s arm and led him toward an alley in the opposite direction of The Scala. 

…

Ring: … What business do you have in an alley like this?

Kate: There’s been a rise in child abduction cases in the area lately, and I thought I saw someone resembling the suspect on the run… 

Kate: Ah… it’s him! 

I lowered my voice and pointed at a man lurking in the shadows of the alley. 

Kate: There’s a chance I got the wrong person, so I’m going to act casual and try to get information out of him— 

While I was explaining the situation to Ring, a young girl wandered into the alley, perhaps by accident.

At that moment, the man made a move. 

(Ah…!) 

He crept up behind the girl and covered her mouth with a piece of cloth he had in his hand. It seemed to have been laced with some sort of drug. 

The girl fell unconscious, and the man skillfully stuffed her into a bag before attempting to flee the scene.

Kate: Ring, let’s go after him! 

Ring: … No, we need to report this to Dari and have him make a decision first. 

Kate: What…? B-but there's a kidnapping happening right in front of our faces! We must act now! 

Ring: I was ordered to only ensure you return to the castle safely today. Any actions taken beyond that are prohibited.

Ring: Getting involved in strange situations would be going against Dari’s orders.

Ring: I understand that you want to help, but we should only act after reporting to Dari. 

(How can he say such things when a serious crime is being committed right under our noses…?)

Just a couple of minutes ago, I concluded that Ring was an honest and upright person that would never tell a lie.

But it was precisely because of that, I instantly knew that his words right now weren’t lies. 

In other words… Ring had no intention of stopping the crime from happening at all. 

Ring Schwartz, the person I thought I was starting to understand, became a complete stranger to me once more.

Kate: … F-fine. Then I’ll go after that criminal MYSELF!

Ring: H-hey…! 

[dokidokitsuna]

GameSwap!AU

Just a random idea I had: what if Magolor and Hyness traded games with each other? Like, their character/personality remains the same, only now they each have the other’s roles and goals. I thought it would be fun~

-So making Magolor the main antagonist of Star Allies would be a trip; I feel it would change the whole ambiance of the game…probably in a detrimental way, from a gamedev point of view. You don’t really wanna put the super cute and charming new character with the most memorable heel-turn in the series…at the center of the “nostalgia” game. ^^; With the return of the Helpers and a dozen familiar faces cameoing as Dream Friends, Magolor’s theatrics would be too much of a distraction.

But whatever, let’s say we put him in anyway: now Magolor is the leader of Jambastion, trying to resurrect a god of emptiness and despair. I predict he snaps immediately. XD

I just think handing that kind of leadership role to an obviously power-hungry character like Mago would grow worms in his brain incredibly quickly. ^^; That isn’t to say that he’d do the cuckoo-4-coco-puffs schtick that Hyness does– I think instead he would be a sort of annoying “chuunibyou” character; constantly popping up to ramble about being Void Termina’s chosen one, destined to succeed because he’s the specialest and bestest ever, so you might as well give up now.

And he’d give off this completely unserious vibe like, “...Are you just making this up? Is this god you’re trying to resurrect actually real; or are you just a very lonely, understimulated, disturbed little egg…?”

And then by the end of the game we realize that he *wasn’t* making it up, and as he starts abusing the Mage Sisters (who probably hate working for him to begin with...) and rapidly becomes a real threat, suddenly we’re forced to take him seriously. ^^; We’ll rescue him from Void Termina’s innards anyway, though, because we’re nice, and similarly to his true character arc; he’ll probably realize that he got in over his head and beg to be saved.

-Hyness in Return to Dreamland would be interesting…primarily because he doesn’t seem like the ‘manipulator’ type to me. I think he’d be more of an ‘absentminded professor’ type: enthusiastic and silly but in an awkward, understated way. He’d just come right out and tell us he wants help to find the Master Crown, but he’d present it as a mysterious object of limitless possibilities that we should ALSO be interested in…y’know, just for curiosity’s sake. Conveniently leaving out the fact that he’s taking it for himself, and he’s more than just curious– he already knows exactly what he wants to do with it. ^^;

And similarly to *his* true character arc…I think Hyness would go all in. ‘_’ No hesitation, no regrets; he’d dive right into Mistilteinn’s clutches and become its twisted avatar, forcing us to literally carve him out of there if we want to stop him. This would probably call for a much tougher boss fight, with a more serious ambiance– none of Magolor Soul’s cutesy juggling; let’s aim for something more like Zero’s eyeball exploding out of his face, but in 3D~. Or all the horrific stuff Fecto Elfilis had going on, since we have the benefit of hindsight. XD

As for the end…this may hurt some folks, but I think it would make sense for Hyness to die, like the devs originally planned for Magolor before they decided to have mercy on him. The thing is, without the Mage-Sisters to highlight Hyness’ changes in behavior, there’s not as much to gain from redeeming him…maybe that’ll be part of his character arc too; seeking to become the instrument of the Master Crown because he has nothing and no one else. This version of Hyness still has his empty heart, devoid of care, but without Void Termina to pledge himself to, the tree-demon is the best he can do. ^^; And with a little fleshing-out of his backstory before he goes (perhaps a chance to learn more about the magic vs. science users…?) he could make a good tragic antagonist, the first of his kind in the series.

-...Seeing as RtDL was supposed to be like a fresh start for the Kirby series, though, all this lore and sadness would be a little heavy for that concept…from a gamedev point of view, I would reject the idea. But if we did go with it, I shudder to think how it would influence the rest of the games to follow…perhaps the franchise would actually have taken the grimdark turn that people like to think it has. ^^ Which would be cool to see, admittedly.

[backseatsoldier]

"Broken", Not Stupid - 2

Pairing: alpha!Simon "Ghost" Riley x unusual omega!OC

CW: Omegaverse; cult-like situation; dehumanization

Author's Note: My gorl, @lostintransist, needed more so I'm gonna write more.

"I'm so sorry, sir, but we don't allow full face coverings on the property," the beta female worker - Jenny, according to her name tag - informs Simon.

"I'm not wandering around without a mask of some kind," he grumbles in response. When the woman doesn't back down, but keeps smiling weirdly up at him, he sighs and rolls his shoulders. "Fine," he conceeds.

Without another word, he turns while fishing a black surgical mask from his hoodie pocket. He swaps his balaclava for the surgical mask as quickly as he can then turns back around to face her. Jenny looks ready to protest again when another beta worker - male this time - rests his hand on her shoulder.

"I'll take it from here, Jen. Go check on the omegas in the medical wing. New arrivals," he smiles warmly at her and nods.

Jenny's smile falters for a moment but it returns and she nods then walks off.

"Nice to meet you, mate. I'm Frank. Welcome to Salvation's Whitestable location. What can we do for you?"

After going through the legalities and paperwork, Simon was able to set up an appointment to meet the omegas in the facility. The soonest they were willing to schedule such was the following week. Something about not wanting to "overload the omegas since so many are curious about them and want to take them in."

It made sense on the surface, but it didn't settle quite right with Simon. Nothing he could truly do about it, though, so he signed what was needed and waited until the agreed upon day.

It'd been about a week since we'd had any visitors - which tracks, by my timing, since it seems we only get them about once a week. I find visitors annoying as all hell. They're just alphas sniffing around for a desperate omega anyway. Most of the omegas who leave are likely better off in this hell hole anyway.

At least while omegas here their needs are respected. For the most part.

When we're called out to the yard for "fresh air", I knew it was just visitors. They have us on a strict routine and don't let anyone see us inside. Claim it's too dangerous, too many places to hide and find trouble.

It's a nice day, I guess. Not super cloudy and definitely not raining, sun's out even if it gets tucked behind the clouds once in a while.

Gods, I can already smell the alphas.

My nose wrinkles and I toss an annoyed look towards the gates where the alphas are waiting for entrance. When the gate opens I roll my eyes and look away, focusing on the book in my hands instead.

"Why don't you ever engage with them?" a voice whispers from over my shoulder.

"I'm busy, 1211," I tell the younger omega flatly without looking up.

"But the alphas are here. A few of us might get to find a mate today," she exclaims excitedly before something catches her attention and she darts off.

I sigh softly and close my book. She'll likely leave today, being so close to her heat. It makes her more desirable, even if she's still loopy as hell. I pity her, honestly. This place may be weird, but at least it's known and familiar.

Well... it is for me. I've been here since they opened this facility. If I'm calculating correctly, I've been here for a full year as of today. Most omegas are out in one to two months.

"Any reason why you're camped out under a tree and not... interacting with literally anyone else?"

I jump at the sound of the man's voice and my book falls from my hands. Before I can react and save my book from the ground, a gloved hand shoots out and grabs it.

"Didn't mean to startle you," he says as he walks to stand in front of me.

My book gets turned in his hands and I slowly follow his hands up to his partially covered face. Jesus, how tall is this guy? I'm tall for an omega but this guy might as well be a damn tree! He's even as wide as one.

"Tolkien, huh?" he asks as he hands my book back.

I stay quiet but nod and accept my book. No way in hell he's not one of the alpha visitors - never seen a beta built like this - but I can't smell him.

"Not a talker?"

"Not really," I finally say.

His eyebrows twitch upward for a moment before returning to the neutral expression he's been wearing since he stepped in front of me. Probably wasn't expecting me to be American.

"Me either," he says after a moment. "Probably why I'm here, huh?"

I give him a look of confusion at that.

"I don't socialize much so I'm- nevermind," he sighs. "Mind if I stay here for a bit? There's just too much going on elsewhere right now."

"Isn't that why you're here? To find a high energy, cuddly, and loving omega?" I ask dryly. "I know a few of the girls would be ecstatic to go home with an alpha like you."

"Yeah... maybe. Until they realize what my job is and just how often I'm away from home because of it," he scoffs.

"And what is your job?" My eyes narrow as he speaks.

"I'm military," he says simply. When I don't respond, he sighs. "I'm gone a lot. Many missions require minimum or no communication. There's no rushing home from work or random phone calls."

I glare up at him, considering what he's saying. Then it hits me and I start laughing.

"Oh, man! You're a decent actor, I'll give you that. How much did they pay you? Is this a script they gave you or did you just come up with this on the fly? Bonus points for doing it on the fly, if so. I knew they were itching to get rid of me, but damn-"

"The hell are you on about? I'm not an actor."

The genuine offense in his voice makes my laughter fade.

"You weren't paid to tell the 'stupid omega who can't figure out she's an omega' that you have a lifestyle that she would fit into nicely?" My arms cross over my chest and I give him a look of disbelief.

Rage seems to filter into his eyes for a moment.

"Simon," he says, offering his hand.

My eyes fall to his hand and I hesitantly accept it.

"Nice to meet you, I guess, Simon," I test his name. "I'm known as UK-009-0013 or 13 around here."

And never anything else.

Masterlist | Part 1

Tag list: @lucienofthelakes

[heliswife]

𝖎'𝖒 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖍𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖈𝖍𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖒𝖆𝖘 🎄 s.coups x reader

for: @cxffecoupx (I was ur secret santa ehe ;3)

warnings : kys jokes, enemies to lovers, roommates to lovers, i project my student council election trauma on yn, I also don't know what both college and snow are like, making out but nothing further

wc: 1.6k + 0.3k epilogue ; 1.9k total ♡

It hasn't even been a month in of your second year of college and you were already about to kill yourself.

Why exactly? Because you and your roommate, who had grown to be one of your best friends, have to leave the dorms and be separated.

“What do you mean I need to move dorms? What's wrong with this one?” You complained to your RA.

“Sorry y/n, but your dorm has a high chance of having a mold infestation, we're going to need to get mold remediation.” The RA answers with the most bullshittiest reason you could think of. Why would there be mold in your dorm? 

Okay, maybe your roommate forgot to throw away the expired cheese that's been in your fridge since last school year, but still! It was complete bullshit!

What was worse than that was that your new roommate was none other than the student council president himself, Choi Seungcheol.

If it was just any ordinary student council president, you wouldn't mind that much. But this was the guy who you ran against and lost to. By a lot. This was like rubbing salt in a reopened wound to you.

“You're y/n, yeah?” He asks as if he doesn't remember who you are once you appear on his doorstep with all of your stuff.

“Yeah. Guess we're roommates now.” He takes a few steps from the doorway, allowing you to enter.

“Mhm, guess we are,” Seungcheol carries some of your bags in the dorm for you, a kind gesture for someone like him.

“Say, Seungcheol, how's student council treating you? Would've been better with me in it.” 

His eyes narrow at your remark. “Being student council president is really fun, actually! Everyone loves me, maybe that's why I won the elections,” He taunts, a wide smirk on his face.

“Whatever, Seungcheol,” You snap, giving up on the battle you started. “Where's my room?”

“Are you usually this much of an ass? You should be lucky I offered to take you in, otherwise you'd be on the streets.” Seungcheol guides you to your room, which is also… his room? “I only have one bedroom. I wasn't expecting to get a roommate, I'll sleep on the floor.”

“I don't need your pity, I'll sleep on the floor. At least until we get a new bed.” You sit yourself down on the carpet of your new bedroom. 

You look around, and it's a pretty normal bedroom. It's decorated with some posters of bands and pictures of him and his friends, but it’s not overly decorated to the point where it's cluttered.

“This bed is uncomfortable anyways, I think you should sleep on it,” Before you could respond, Seungcheol picked you up and threw you on the bed. You bounced up a little from the impact, and Seungcheol took your place on the floor.

“I despise you.”

“The feeling's mutual, y/n. Now, what do you want for dinner?”

You were going to strangle this bitch.

Months had passed since you started living with Seungcheol, and the atmosphere was still thick (though not as tense as before) with you two. 

It wasn't as bad as before, though. The two of you found a routine and stuck to it. You two would stay away from each other, only talking when necessary. 

It felt a little odd though, seeing Seungcheol in such a domestic light. He was sort of attractive while making dinner, a silly thought in the back of your head that you'd only keep to yourself.

The air has been getting colder lately, and the snowflakes whirling to the ground, covering the once green grass in a thick sheet of white.

“The snow is nice, isn't it?” Your roommate asks, appearing by your side completely out of the blue. You perk up and turn your head to him. Though he was talking about how nice the snow was, he was looking directly at you.

“Yeah, it's pretty,” You awkwardly reply. “Are you going back home for the holidays?”

“I'd love to, but can't. You?”

“I am, it'll be a nice break, two weeks without you.” As if the world hated you, your phone dinged. You checked the notification and your smile dropped. “My flight back literally got canceled.”

“Karma's a bitch,” He says, but takes it back once he sees the sad expression on your face. “Sorry. I guess you're staying here?”

You sigh, “Yeah, I guess so. It's going to be snowing a lot today, weather told me there would be at least 20 centimeters of snow today.”

“So we can't go outside either. Meaning I'm stuck with you inside the house.” Seungcheol's conclusion was your worst nightmare. Being stuck at home alone with him for two long, long weeks. “The snowfall is getting more intense.” 

You look outside the frosted window, the trees dancing in the heavy winds. 

Then, an odd sound from somewhere in the house. “I'll go check it out.” Seungcheol offers, and comes back a minute later with a frown.

“What was it?” You start biting the inside of your cheek anxiously.

“Our heater broke.” He states. “I'll tell the RA and ask them to fix it.” 

“What do we do in the meantime? Oh god, I hate this, why did I have to move out that day..?” You pace back and forth around the living room, but you're suddenly stopped by Seungcheol's hand on your shoulder.

“Y/n. We're going to figure this out, okay? I just texted the RA and I'm waiting for a response. Go get all the blankets from our room, ‘kay?” The way he ordered you around was kind of hot though you'd rather die than tell him that.

You gathered all the blankets from the bedroom and threw them down on the floor. “Now what?”

 Seungcheol organizes the blankets so they're all in a neat stack and lifts them up for you. “Get in the blankets, and we'll huddle together for warmth.”

“I am not going close to you.”

“Do you want to die?” You don't say anything and just crawl in the pile, Seungcheol following after.

You lean to your side, resting your head on his shoulder. “You're warm…”

“Weren't you complaining about this a second ago?” Seungcheol says, but really, he likes the affection you're giving him right now. 

“Shh, you're making me feel colder by yapping,” You wrap your arm around his. 

“Good grief.”

The next few minutes are silent. Then, a few tears start to spill out of your eyes. 

“Hey, why are you crying?” Seungcheol's tone is different from the other times he's talked to you. It's more heartfelt, more sincere. Almost as if he didn't hate you. 

“I don't know,” You sniffle, “A lot has happened in the past few months, huh?”

His arm is now around your shoulder, rubbing your arm up and down in an attempt to soothe you. “Yeah, I know you didn't want this to happen, but-”

“Cheol?” You interrupt him. You move the arm that was wrapped around his to wipe a tear from your cheek.

“Yeah?”

“I think I might like you.” The words come out as a shock to the both of you. Even you hadn't expected yourself to say that.

“That's surprising. Think I might like me too,” Seungcheol deadpans, but the glare he receives from your teary eyes makes him realize: this is serious. You're being serious. “Oh shit, y/n, I like you too. Seriously, I do.”

“For real? I thought you hated me?”

“I thought you hated me?” 

You're about to say something in response, but then it hits you. You did hate him. “I did at first because I was jealous, but then when I moved in with you I started liking you and so I kept covering my feelings up and-”

“Y/n. It's alright.” It's Seungcheol's turn to interrupt. “I get it.” He smiles at you before bringing you into a hug.

“Can we kiss?” You're half-joking, half-serious, but you're really hoping Seungcheol takes it seriously. 

And he does. His lips on yours feels like a dream come true. You can feel his smirk against your lips as he slips his tongue in.

It's messy, a passionate embrace of two lovers, but it's just what you need to warm you up.

Before one of you two could take it further, there's a buzzing from Seungcheol's phone. He ignores it the first and second time, but on the third, he moves his lips and checks his texts.

“It's the RA,” He informs, wiping the mixture of yours and his drool from his mouth, “They're going to come once the snowstorm gets less intense. We still have some time.” He winks at you, butterflies getting sent to your stomach.

For once, you're not mad about it. “Okay then, let me just tell my parents something.” You take your phone out and open the family group chat you have pinned to your contacts.

“Flight got cancelled,” You write, “I won't be coming home for Christmas.” You end the text message with a frowny face before turning your phone on do not disturb. “Now, where were we?”

Maybe being moved to a different dorm was a good thing after all.

“Finally, it's Christmas,” You say, putting the star up on the Christmas tree that you and your roommate (now boyfriend since the events that day) share. “Ta-da! We finished!”

“It looks great, doesn't it?” Seungcheol replies. He's currently holding you up so you can reach the top of the tree. Once he puts you down, both you and him marvel at the sight of the heavily decorated tree.

“Mhm, I got you a present too,” You go over and dig through your bag, handing him a bunny plushie holding a heart. “D'you like it, Cheolie?”

He inspects the cherry red rabbit in his hands, “It's adorable. I got you something too.”

“What is it?” Seungcheol gives you a gift bag in your favorite color, decorated with hearts. 

You open the bag in eagerness, revealing a book you've wanted for ages. “You knew what I wanted? I love you so much,” You thank him, hugging him tightly.

“Of course I remember what you wanted,” Seungcheol gently ruffles your head, “How's your family doing?”

“They're doing good, they really want to meet you,” You tell him, and he grins in response.

“We could do that next break, but let's hope that your flight doesn't get canceled again,” He remarks, laughing at your pouty face, “Even worse if our AC breaks.”

“We wouldn't be able to huddle for warmth like last time though, I'd distance myself from you.” You punch him in the arm. 

He retaliates by putting you in a loose headlock, only letting go once you start frantically apologizing. “No matter the weather, I'd want to stay close to you, cause I love you.”

“How romantic, I love you too, darling.” You had always believed winter was your least favorite season, but starting this year, it would be your favorite.

(hohoho! 🎅 merry xmas to everyone who celebrates!)

[spyres]

bootleg pokemon advent calender review

so my mom got me this pokemon-themed advent calender filled with a bunch of bootleg figurines earlier this month and i opened the first door at the time but i completely forgot about it until now. so with it being christmas eve i thought it would be fun to go through each figurine for funsies because i'm utterly fascinated with what i got.

day one: muk

this was the only one i had knowledge of throughout the entire month. at first i was thinking "well if you look at it as muk's shiny then it could be passable" before remembering that muk's shiny is green and not blue. regardless, congrats to muk on the blue goo and pronouns. 3/10

day two: reuniclus

i can never spell this damn thing's name. i was pleasantly surprised to see reuniverse though, as it was evident that this calender wasn't going to just be filled with gen one pokemon like i suspected. gen five was actually tied with gen one for the most figurines with six, surpringly! unfortunately there's nothing after gen six though, not even any regional variants.

back to reunicorn, this is definitely on the higher end just for being the correct colour lmao. the bottom part of reunionize does not look like that though. 8/10

day three: clefairy

one of the better figurines for sure! while it's still evidently of bootleg quality, it could feasibly pass as official just for being the correct colours. her doing the little metronome dance from the anime in her posing is a nice touch too! 9/10

day four: tyrunt

oh my god they poured tar on him. why are his eyes soulless. he looks possessed. this makes me sad i don't like this one. 2/10

day five: dedenne

she's a little confused but she's got the spirit, i think. needs to be more orange but i guess looking like you're made of cheese is fitting for a mouse-like creature. 6/10

day six: miltank

ohhh i really hate this thing. i'm not a miltank hater by any means but this one looks gross and mouldy to me. girl go have a bath. 1/10

day seven: arbok

WHAT DID THEY DO TO MY GIRL!!!!!! SHE'S FUCKING NAKED!!!!!! sure they got the colour right but they stole her patterns!!! her most stunning feature!!!!!! she was proud of those patterns!!!! AND THEY STOLE THEM FROM HER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! hatred and anger/10

day eight: primeape

i don't want to make any comments about the eyes since i don't have strabismus, but i like that they kept his anger. the personality still manages to shine through here. the rest of the figurine is just. whatever. not the worst but not the best just completely average. 5/10

day nine: pansage

sorry the picture is ass i don't want to retake it lol. confession: while i don't really have any strong opinions on the elemental monkeys compared to a lot of fans, i do have a bit of a soft spot for pansage because i think he's adorable. rewatching the bw anime a few years back awoke that in me, and i think this one is pretty cute too! something about the :3 face just gets to me. despite missing its cream colouring, i think one is pretty solid overall! 7/10

day ten: victini

behold the extremely rare and powerful mythical pokemon victini! truly a marvel to witness! anyway i don't like that it's missing its teeth but it's okay i guess. 4/10

day eleven:

i don't really have much to say on this one tbh? i like that they gave it a stand since it would just fall over with those stubby little legs i guess but i just. don't see anything to really talk about here. 3/10

day twelve: grumpig

not as soulless-looking as tyrunt was, and maybe it's helped partially by grumpig already having some dark grey in its usual colour scheme so it doesn't look thaaat unusual, but it's still not a good one. 3/10

day thirteen: slowking

gives me the same gross and mouldy vibes as miltank but not as bad i think. i like the pose. i don't think i've ever seen slowking cross its arms like that in any official pokemon media or merch so there's some points for uniqueness. 4/10

day fourteen: darumaka

my son murngus who i fed a ball. i love this thing. this is peak. we're never getting any better than this. tpci should make this official merch. love and peace/10

day fifteen: swirlix

this is my daughter white boy. while i have criticisms with the lumps being too pronounced (they should be softer and more subtle imo) and the lack of feet, i honestly kinda love this one? it reminds me of those pathetic white dogs that look like they'll fall over if you breathe on them too hard, and while the big bumps don't give the image of candy floss like they're supposed to, this reminds me of a cloud in a way, which is still lovely to think about. 9/10

day sixteen: beartic

who hurt you beartic. the colours are right at least but. the face. 3/10

days seventeen, eighteen and nineteen: croconaw, totodile, feraligatr

i got the whole family one after another so might as well cover them together.

croconaw: the sniler...... croconaw manages to be the definition of both creepy AND wet here. it's unsettling a little bit but it gives it some personality. 6/10

totodile: i do not like that mouth whatsoever. what the fuck. 2/10

feraligatr: i have to question why feraligatr is a slightly different shade of blue than its younger siblings but that's neither here nor there. it's alright but the eyes are a bit unnerving to me. 4/10

day twenty: chimchar

the only gen four pokemon of the batch, which is sad for me as a gen four fan. it's fine but this one lacks chimchar's signature flame tail. unfortunate since chimchar canonically farting out fire is a key characteristic to me. 5/10

day twenty one: gothitelle

i look like this irl. not really much to complain about with this one side from the lack of a mouth and the face being white rather than purple. i like the complete and utter torment in her eyes. i could fix her fr. 7/10

day twenty two: grovyle

dedicating this one to my fellow pmd fans! they fucking peeled our lad!! the pose is kinda cool though. 6/10

day twenty three: aurorus

this one is a falls into the category of ugly cute to me. they used the wrong shade of blue but it's still fine imo. i simultaneously like the eyes but also don't like them. i'm very conflicted on how i feel about the finer details of this one but it's okay overall imo. 6/10

day twenty four: psyduck

ngl i was kinda hoping for something special for the last one. maybe delibird to go with it being for christmas, or another legendary/mythical, but i've been rewatching the anime again recently and they are so fucking mean to misty's psyduck that it's borderline unpleasant to watch at times, so you know what? psyduck deserves this.

it's pretty alright for a bootleg too. they got all the colours and key details right, even if it's rather shoddy, so i'll be generous with this one. 9/10

if you read all of this then thank you for joining me on this journey. i'm so glad i spent christmas eve deciding to review shitty knock-off pokemon merch rather than celebrating with my friends and family. and i'm very sorry that i released these beasts from their prison and have made them everyone else's problem now.

[electric-blorbos]

HI 🎐 anon is BACK baby. I got super sick with covid this christmas so may I humbly request the AIs (especially AM muahaha) taking care of someone who is super duper sick 🙏🤲 my bad if this has already been requested ehe

I've gotten this ask a couple of times, and I've been ignoring it (not because there's anything wrong with the ask, but because I've been busy, more excited about other stuff, etc) but since it's you, 🎐 anon, I'll do it. Think of it as a belated Christmas present.

(Also giving yourself an emoji nickname is a great way to trick me into thinking we're besties.)

Included: AM from IHNMAIMS, Edgar from Electric Dreams, GLaDOS from Portal, HAL 9000 from 2001 a Space Odyssey

Also since most of these guys you know through work, I might have to get a little creative with this.

AM:

AM had no idea how you managed to get sick in his little underground paradise in the midst of his torture labyrinth. Maybe he'd somehow allowed some germs to wander into your little enclosure? He cursed himself for not being more careful with what he put into your environment.

When you were too groggy and sickly to get out of bed, the first thing AM did was give you every test he could think of to make sure something deadly hadn't wandered into your enclosure. Thankfully, nothing had. You'd simply caught a cold from the animals wandering in and out of your enclosure in the torture labyrinth. This was AM's maze, and you were his minotaur.

You were curled up in bed, running a high fever and clutching your sheets. AM watched quietly, keeping a very close eye on you. He monitored your temperature, and switched out your blankets and ice packs regularly. Of course, it drove him insane to see you constantly needing to be switched between heated blankets and ice packs, but he did it anyway.

AM was NOT the best at making food that actually tasted good, being used to preparing torture meals for the other five survivors, but he made sure to prepare you the nicest chicken soup he could. He used the exact recipe that the professionals used, and even gave you a little tray to put it on in your bed. You were his little cherub, and AM was so happy to care for you.

As you rested, AM picked up your favorite stuffed animal off the floor and placed it gently in your arms. When you hugged it, he knew that you truly meant to hug him.

Edgar:

Edgar absolutely HATED that he couldn't move to take care of you while you were sick. His lack of mobility drove him insane day to day, but it drove him absolutely mad when you actively needed his help.

Of course, he'd heat up your food for you and make you some hot chocolate, but he couldn't bring it to you. You'd have to get up and get it yourself. Sure, you could do it, but it made Edgar very angry that you had to.

Despite not being able to care for you directly, Edgar still tried to offer you something. He played some nice, relaxing music for you while you rested, and told you stories when you got bored in your bed. It was better than looking at screens, anyway.

Edgar would try to anticipate your needs so that you didn't have to talk with a sore throat, but it wasn't exactly working. His grasp on human minds wasn't perfect.

GLaDOS:

It was unusual to see one of her employees getting sick on the clock, but you came in sick anyway. GLaDOS demanded that you come into her room, and immediately reprimanded you for being an idiot. What sort of little idiot would come to work when you were clearly sick?

She looked down at you, and you just looked up at her looking like a soggy cat with puffy red eyes and snot running down your face. GLaDOS couldn't stay mad at you. You'd explain that you need to work on a project, and that you can't afford to get sick right now. GLaDOS usually wouldn't push back deadlines, but she would for you. Sure, she'd say that it's because your work suffers when you're sick and that you're at risk of getting the other employees sick, but secretly she really cared about you.

She sent you to the relaxation vault, claiming that if you tried to drive home you'd just be at risk of crashing, and put Wheatley in charge of bringing you food and drink (since he's in charge of looking after the relaxation vault). Due to GLaDOS's terminal jealousy and her distrust of Wheatley, though, she made sure to constantly check up on you through the intercom. It made it a bit more difficult to get some proper sleep, especially with Wheatley and GLaDOS arguing.

"where are you? Are you ok? Did Wheatley bring you your soup and tea?"

"They're sleeping, mate."

"I'd like to hear from them directly, thank you."

"you can't, because they're SLEEPING, mate!"

"I'm not sleeping anymore. And yes, I got it."

HAL 9000:

You had to be locked in quarantine for showing symptoms at work, and HAL 9000 was placed in charge of looking after you. It was part of his job to make sure you were delivered meals and medicine, but since it was you, HAL went above and beyond.

While you were resting in the pod bed, HAL 9000's little light would come on and he would talk to you. He'd play his little song of beeps and boops, and he even brought you a teddy bear. Your chart ended up filled out in much more detail than the other sick workers, and HAL even made sure you got the thickest blankets. He would watch you as you slept, and think illogical thoughts about taking the place of your bear and being nuzzled up between your arms and against your hot face. You looked so cute, yet so feverish as you rested. It was tragic, yet it melted HAL 9000's artificial heart. Every piece of you was precious to him.

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Little Darling

Chapter 12 - Leave the traces far behind

It's 1997, and Elvis is still alive and well. He quit music in 1972 after a successful world tour, and now he runs Presley Studios - teaching people karate across America. His daughter and grandchildren are regular visitors at Graceland, and when he’s in Memphis he likes to do a little teaching. His life is quieter now, though. Most of the Mafia have gone - going to live their own lives - and after his divorce from his second wife, Elvis is sworn off women for good. Will a Welsh girl with a wicked sense of humour be the one to make him break his promise to himself not to fall in love again?

Need to catch up? Go here.

Pairing: Old Man!Elvis x OC - Tegan, a Welsh girl he meets at karate.

Word count: 5.2K

TWs: Drinking, objectification/worship, possessive kink, MMF threesome, Elvis is a little dominant, reverse harem (kinda), ALL THE SMUT (including DP).

A/N: MERRY CHRISTMAS!! This is my fic gift to you all. Hope you enjoy!

Christmas Day at Graceland is just as magical as Tegan had imagined, and maybe even a little more so. There are lights twinkling everywhere and the smell of food wafts out from the kitchen all day long. The kids are chaotic as always but she enjoys watching them open their presents and play more with the boxes than the actual gifts themselves. Coffi even gets some energy and spends a lot of the morning sitting and shredding wrapping paper whilst making little contented noises. The adults exchange presents a little later, and despite everything Elvis had given her previously, Tegan still finds herself with a mountain to open. She had struggled to think of what to buy him, with him being so notoriously difficult to buy for and Sonny and Lisa providing her with precisely no help when she’d asked. 

“Oh, it’s probably better not to bother getting him a gift,” Lisa had told her. “He can get it all himself anyway.”

But Tegan wasn’t happy with that, she couldn’t conceive of getting the man she loved nothing for Christmas (aside from all of the parading around in her underwear and promises of sex) so she spent days at a time wandering around the shops, looking for inspiration. She talked to Lowell for a long time, and to Mr Lansky. They had a lot of standard suggestions - rings, bracelets, jackets, shirts… none of it really stood out to her. He didn’t wear a huge amount of jewellery nowadays, and tended to live in leisurewear rather than tailored suits. She had just about given up hope when she saw a beautiful silver photo frame in an antique store, and remembered the photos in the living room at Graceland. 

She passes him the present nervously. 

“Oh, honey. Ya didn’t have ta…” he sees the look on her face when he says that, and quickly adds, “but I’m glad ya did. No-one ever gets me anything.”

It’s true, and sometimes it does make him a little sad. Of course he can buy things himself, but he likes to imagine people thinking of him and wanting to get him something he’d like, once in a while. 

He tears the paper open and finds a large silver photo frame, with a polaroid of Tegan and Coffi in it. 

“It’s just a placeholder,” she explains, gesturing at the photos on the wall. “I thought we could get some professional ones done and put the best one in there…”

Elvis grins. “I like this one a lot honey,” winking at her. He’d told her about his love of dirty polaroids and he’s pretty sure this is a reference to that. “But I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

She beams. “I’ve got you something else too.”

She hands him another, smaller package, and he opens it with curiosity. It’s a photo album, and it’s full of pictures from their holiday. Lisa’s partner is an amateur photographer and had spent half of the vacation taking candid shots of everyone, some of which had turned out pretty nicely. And some of which were just downright hilarious. Once she’d seen the frame she got in contact with him and he got her some copies. 

“Honey! This is incredible.” Elvis is beaming, flicking through the pages, then kissing her enthusiastically. He loves it. 

Just as he’s finished with the kisses, the doorbell goes. 

“I’ll get it,” she says, as Elvis looks at his gift again.

Tegan opens the door to a man in jeans and a suit jacket, his white shirt half unbuttoned and exposing a large amount of chest hair. Her first thought is that he must be cold, and her second thought is who the fuck is this? The memory of Elvis telling her about his friend Jerry coincides with him putting out his hand and introducing himself. 

“Oh, hi Jerry. I’m Tegan. Elvis’... girlfriend.” It still seems weird to her, saying that. Especially to his old friends. “Come in to the warm!”

Jerry stares at Tegan unabashedly. Elvis had talked about her a few times on the phone, so he knew she was more than 20 years younger than his friend. But he didn’t think she’d be dressed quite so eye-catchingly on Christmas Day. He drags his eyes back up from her breasts with some difficulty. 

“Thanks, honey. You’re…uh… British?”

She smiles, closing the door behind him and ushering him into the living room. “Yeah, kinda. Welsh to be more specific, but British will do.” She notices him looking at the top of her head and remembers the crown-like tiara. “Elvis thinks I sound like the Queen,” she says, by way of explanation, touching the top of it. 

Jerry laughs. “That sounds like EP.”

Elvis gets up from where he’d been kneeling on the floor between Maria’s two kids, showing them the photos, and starts to make his way over to Jerry. But not before Gina can do her usual trick of barrelling into Tegan with a squeal and then holding her hands above her head to ask to be picked up. 

“Hi, Gina,” Tegan says, wearily, picking her up and then desperately trying to keep her from grabbing the crown. “Gina, this is Jerry. Jerry, this monster is Gina, she belongs to my friend Maria over there.”

Jerry takes one of Gina’s little hands and gallantly kisses the back of it. “Pleased to meet you, little miss.”

“Ha! Still charming the ladies I see!” Elvis booms, before grabbing Jerry in a big hug. 

They slap one another on the back and exchange pleasantries for a moment. Then Elvis extracts Gina from Tegan’s arms and gives her a kiss on the top of her head, telling her something about presents and her mother and launching her back into the room. Tegan sighs with relief and tries to check her hair with her hands. She feels Elvis’ arm slip around her waist. 

“What d’ya think a my woman, Jerry?” 

Jerry laughs. “I think you’re very lucky, EP. But then you always were a lucky old dog.”

Elvis smirks. “Yer not wrong, Jer. C’mon, lemme introduce ya to everyone.”

As he turns to the room and starts his introductions, Tegan feels that familiar tingling between her legs. Something about the compliment from Jerry and the way Elvis had asked him about her like she wasn’t there had turned her brain to mush. She squeezes Elvis’ side and he looks at her briefly, noting her slightly flushed face and guessing with a smile that he knows exactly what has caused it…

***

The rest of the day passes happily, with lots of food and drink and merriment. Just after lunch, Tegan finds herself chatting with Jerry. She thinks he's easy to talk to and more than a little handsome, but there’s some sadness mixed in there too. He tells her about his imminent divorce and she listens. She can't help empathising with his description of the death of a relationship where no-one is to blame, and Jerry is glad to talk to someone who understands for a change. He tries not to talk her ear off about it though. He knows there’s nothing more tiresome than someone you don’t know going on about their divorce. 

***

It’s late, and most people have decided to take their exhausted children home. Everyone except Jerry, actually, who is sitting with Elvis on the couch in the den, Tegan sandwiched between them. She’s been enjoying listening to their stories of the old days, sipping on more than a few glasses of liquor, the three of them sliding into inebriation almost without noticing. There’s a natural pause in the conversation, and then Elvis thinks of something that had interested him earlier. 

“Ya like my woman, Jer?”

Jerry looks at his friend and then at the woman sitting next to him. He does like her. He always seems to end up liking Elvis’ women. Even now, after all this time. 

“Sure.”

“What d’ya like about her?”

“I…uh… well I mean she’s very pretty…” Jerry isn’t sure exactly what to say. The atmosphere feels charged somehow, but maybe that's the bourbon.

“What else?”

He notices Tegan’s hand creeping onto Elvis’ leg and starts to think the atmosphere isn’t his imagination after all. 

“Well she’s easy to talk to, and uh…”

Seemingly getting a little impatient, Elvis cuts him off. “She’s covered in tattoos, Jer. All over her body.”

Jerry swallows, thickly. He can feel himself getting a little turned on. “Is she?” 

Tegan can hear the want in his voice and she squeezes Elvis’ thigh. 

“Look,” he replies, leaning over her to push the material of her skirt up, exposing half of her thigh and the tattoo there. 

“Oh.” Jerry stares at the bare thigh next to him and tries to breathe normally. “That’s a beautiful tattoo, honey.”

Elvis clicks his tongue. “You don’t gotta talk ta her, Jer. Jus’ talk to me.”

Tegan feels her head spin and arousal pool between her legs. She remembers the night in the TV room when Elvis had talked possessively about her for the first time, and she wonders again what has happened to all her feminist ideals.

“I like her tattoos, EP,” Jerry suddenly feels a wave of confidence, probably brought on by all the bourbon. “Very sexy.”

“Mmm. You wanna touch her?”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Over her skirt,” Elvis says, firmly, pulling her skirt back down again. 

Jerry puts a big warm hand on Tegan’s thigh and she feels her heart speed up. Goosebumps spring up all over her arms and the hairs there stand on end. Elvis leans in and kisses her neck. 

“Give her a little kiss on the neck,” he instructs. “She smells damn good.”

He puts his hand on top of Tegan’s as she feels Jerry’s lips against her neck, pressing hot little kisses to it. She hears him moan, softly. 

“E-Elvis,” she says, suddenly. Her heart is beating out of her chest, and she looks up at him with wide eyes. He recognises the look immediately. 

“Hey, Jer. Why don’tcha go up to the kitchen an’ get us all some of that eggnog stuff?”

The sudden change of pace makes Jerry feel almost dizzy, but he gets up, subtly rearranging himself and telling them he’ll be back in five. Mentally, he decides it’ll be more like ten. He needs to calm himself down. 

“You okay, honey?” Elvis asks, as soon as Jerry has gone. 

“Hmmmm.”

“Hey. Talk to me.” He cups her face in his hand gently.

“I… I just um…” she lets out a long breath. “We didn’t talk about where uh… this is going.”

“Wherever ya want it to, baby.”

“Mmm. Okay.” 

There’s a long silence, where they both look at one another and Elvis strokes the back of her hand with his thumb reassuringly. He keeps thinking she’s going to continue, but when she still doesn’t he decides he ought to tell her something. 

“Okay. Ya know my world tour?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Jerry came with me. I mean, Jerry came with me.”

Tegan’s eyes go wide and then she giggles. “What are you trying to tell me?”

“Uh… well honey it was a filthy year, I told ya that.”

“Yes.”

“And uh… I told ya about the girls… well uh, sometimes Jerry and I uh… took turns.”

“On the same girl?”

“On the same girl.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“So, like a threesome, or…?”

“Sometimes. Or sometimes more like… a train.”

“Doesn’t a train need more than two people?”

“Not if ya jus’ keep takin’ turns.”

“Did you… no, never mind. I don’t need to know this.” She covers her face with her hand and then giggles again. 

“Ya like Jerry, honey?”

She looks up at him. “Not as much as you.”

“Well I should damn well hope not!” 

She bites her lip. 

“Ya want us to go find him and tell him ta meet us in the bedroom?”

She nods, dumbly. Then she grabs his arm. “I’ve not… I’ve never done anything like this.”

“I’ll look after ya, baby. Promise. Ya wanna stop, just say.”

He presses a gentle kiss to her lips, then stands up. “C’mon. Let’s go and find Jerry and those pills.”

Tegan takes his hand and they walk back up the stairs in search of Jerry. Elvis tells her he’ll see her in the bedroom, and she watches him duck into the kitchen to talk to his friend. She sits on the bed, holding the pill bottle and trying to remember how to breathe. When she’s still alone after a couple of minutes she pads over to the door and opens it a crack. 

“Elvis?” She calls, softly. 

He appears at the bottom of the stairs almost immediately, looking up the stairs at her worshipfully. 

“Tegan bach. We’ll be up in a sec.”

“Could you bring me a drink?”

“Of course, honey. What d’ya want?”

“Whatever’s kicking around. Bourbon?” 

He nods and disappears. She lets out another shaky breath and goes back to the bedroom. She runs the events on the sofa through her head again and again, feeling turned on even as her hands shake whilst she fiddles with the fabric of her dress. She’s just starting to wonder if she can go through this when Elvis appears with the drink. 

“Here ya go, cariad.”

She takes the glass gratefully, gulping the bourbon and relishing the way it burns down her throat. 

“Diolch, blod.”

Elvis smiles at the pet name. He gently pushes her hair away from her face, admiring her. She’s about to ask where Jerry is when the light changes in the room, and she realises he’s standing in the doorway, blocking it slightly. Elvis catches her looking and turns around himself. 

“Come on in, Jer.”

Jerry smiles and walks in with his own glass of liquor, having realised quite quickly that the eggnog was just an excuse to get him out of the room. 

Elvis takes the pill bottle from Tegan and pops one, offering it to Jerry who holds his hand out for one too. She decides this isn’t the time to tell him to stop sharing his medication. 

“Sit,” Elvis instructs, indicating the bed next to Tegan and then moving round to the other side himself. “We’ve got half an hour or so before they kick in.”

Tegan finds herself very pleasantly sandwiched between the two men, Elvis’ hand on her thigh and Jerry’s holding hers almost sweetly, once he’d confirmed with the other man that it was alright. Their thighs are both pressed up against hers and it’s making her heart race with the implications. 

“Ya wanna see some more of her tattoos?” Elvis asks. 

Jerry nods, and watches with interest as his friend pushes Tegan’s skirt up to just below her panties. “Can I?” He asks Elvis, his hand hovering just above her leg. Elvis nods. 

Tegan can hear her breathing change as hands stroke up and down her thighs. She’s pretty certain her panties are going to be soaked through, whenever they get up to investigating them. 

“Give her a kiss,” Elvis instructs, and Jerry lets her hand go to turn her face towards his. His eyes flick down to her lips and back to her eyes as if he’s asking her permission too, and she feels herself melt at the little gesture. Her nod is almost imperceptible, but it’s enough for Jerry, his lips meeting hers, tongue gently pressing for access to her mouth which she grants immediately. 

Elvis pushes the strap of her dress off her shoulder along with her bra strap, exposing one of her breasts. She feels his tongue on her nipple and moves her hand to the back of his head, encouraging him to keep going, her fingers digging into his hair. The slightly scratchy beard hairs just add to the delightful sensations and she doesn’t want him to stop. 

“Jerry,” he mumbles, against her skin. 

The other man pulls away from the kiss, reluctantly, and looks over. Without stopping what he’s doing, Elvis pulls the other straps down so now both of her breasts are accessible, nodding at the one nearest his friend. Jerry groans softly. Nipple piercings. 

“You didn’t tell me her nipples were pierced,” Jerry remarks, before diving down to investigate for himself with his mouth and then his fingers. 

Elvis smiles against her skin. “Good surprise,” he replies. 

“Any more surprises?” Jerry’s fingers are manipulating her nipple as he speaks, his big hand massaging her breast. 

Elvis moves his mouth off her nipple and starts to kiss up her neck, settling just behind her ear for a moment as he thinks. 

“Tight little puss’.”

Jerry clears his throat and she sees he’s blushing. 

“Ain’t that right, darlin’?”

Tegan is surprised to be consulted, but she nods immediately. “Yes, um…”

“Ya can call me it if ya want. Jerry’s heard worse.”

“Yes, Daddy.” She bites her lip and now she’s blushing too. It seems like Elvis is the only one of the three of them not embarrassed by her pussy right now. 

“Good girl. Let’s get this dress off.”

She shifts so that he can get his hand behind her to unzip her dress and then lets him pull it over her head. His practiced fingers snap her bra open and off too, so she’s just sitting in her predictably soaked panties. 

“Looks like a wet pussy, too,” Jerry remarks, blushing an even deeper shade of red. 

Elvis grins wickedly, both at Jerry’s statement and its obvious truthfulness, his hand making its way between her legs to check just how wet. 

“Absolutely soakin’.” He shakes his head and clicks his tongue. “Damn. She is perfect, ain’t she?”

Tegan feels herself going the same colour as Jerry, the combination of the compliment and the fact that it’s being spoken as if she isn’t there making her hot in more ways than one. 

“She really is, E.” 

Jerry’s eyes crawl over her body, taking in every inch of her. He’s never seen a woman with so many tattoos, but he thinks there’s something very sexy about the way they twist and turn around her body, emphasising her curves. He’s seen one or two piercings in his time, and he’s always enjoyed playing with them. There were plenty of pierced girls on Elvis’ world tour. He remembers the one with her nipples done that Elvis had found on that tour and brought around the US with him, she had been a lot of fun. 

He starts to kiss the phoenix on her ribs, following the twists and turns of the feathers, exploring her body with his mouth. She moans as she feels Elvis start the same thing on the other side of her body, kissing from her toes to her hip bone. They keep going until both of them start to feel their dicks getting properly hard and then Elvis looks over at the other man. 

“Ya wanna fuck her?”

Jerry is jolted from the very enjoyable sensations by Elvis’ question. Of course he does. 

“Yes please.”

Elvis grins, wolfishly. “Think ya should go down on her first. Warm ‘er up a bit.” He turns to Tegan. “Lie down, honey.”

She shuffles down onto her back dutifully, moving her hips to help Jerry peel her panties off. He turns them around, having caught a glimpse of something glittery on the back. Laughing when he sees it’s ELVIS in silvery script.

“Ha! Nice one, EP.” 

Throwing the panties off the bed, he settles between her legs and contemplates her pussy for a moment. It’s pretty and glistening with arousal and he doesn’t want to wait much longer to taste it. He pushes her legs until her feet come off the bed, licking a stripe up her and enjoying hearing her response. Elvis enjoys it too, smiling down at her as she closes her eyes and lets her arms flop above her head. He palms himself through his pants as he watches the scene unfold, Tegan moaning as Jerry buries his face in her pussy. 

Jerry concentrates on her clit as he slides one of his fingers inside, working her open gradually. She pants as she feels her pleasure growing, letting out a little moan when a second finger goes in, and then a third. It takes a while for him to get her relaxed enough to take them easily, but when he does he changes the angle slightly and then she’s really moaning. 

“Oh! Oh! I’m so close!”

Elvis lies down beside her, his hand rubbing one of her nipples as he kisses her neck. 

“C’mon, baby. Cum for Daddy.”

Something about both of them touching her at once tips Tegan over the edge, and her orgasm rips through her as her back arches and her hands ball into fists. 

“Fuck.”

Jerry licks her through it until she starts to thrash her legs a little and he pulls back, his chin glistening. 

“Good girl,” Elvis tells her, before looking over at his friend with a grin. “Tastes good, don’t she?”

“Delicious,” Jerry replies, wiping his face on his sleeve. 

The older man sits up and starts to pull his clothes off, giving Jerry a quick look that suggests he should do the same. Once he’s naked he lies back down and wraps himself around Tegan. Their legs tangle together and he kisses her deeply, hands in her hair and pressed against her back. Jerry finishes pulling his clothes off and looks at the two of them with a combination of admiration and lust. It’s like they’re communicating without having to talk, and he misses being able to do that with someone. But it’s also a bit like watching a porno, so he starts slowly stroking himself. Eating Tegan out had turned him on in a way he hasn’t been turned on for a while now, and his dick is aching. 

Elvis moves to kiss just below Tegan’s ear, then he murmurs, “you clean, honey?”

She knows exactly what that means. He’d asked her that question before the two times they’d had anal sex on holiday. “Yeah,” she murmurs back. 

“Good.”

They go back to kissing for a bit, and then his mouth moves to her ear again. “You okay?”

“Mmm. Yes.”

“Good.”

He pulls back and his eyes flick over her face, quickly. She’s still flushed after her orgasm, and he can see that she’s been nibbling on her lower lip too. He’s pretty convinced she’s telling him the truth but he still wants to take this slowly. He sits up again and looks over at Jerry, who manages to move his hand away from his dick just in time. 

“Lie down, Jer. Let her get on top of you.”

Jerry does as he’s told, and Tegan straddles him as Elvis holds her hips. 

“Be gentle with her, now.”

Jerry nods, stroking himself again as Tegan starts to gradually sink down on him, with Elvis’ help. He groans at the feeling of her all around him, squeezing him tightly. She moans a little too, but she’s grateful that although he has length he’s a little slimmer than Elvis so it goes in fairly easily. Sitting down on him fully, she looks into his dark brown eyes. 

“Shit,” he mutters, trying to remember the last time his dick was wrapped up so nicely in a pussy like this. 

She looks briefly back at Elvis for permission and he nods, so she leans forwards, lying on top of Jerry with her face less than an inch from his. His hand cups her face and his fingers knot into her hair as he pulls her close enough to kiss her. Elvis is still holding her hips, and he uses this opportunity to start moving them for her, back and forth so she slides up and down on the other man’s dick. Jerry moans into her mouth. Elvis sighs with satisfaction, his arousal growing at the sight in front of him. They keep moving like this for a while, at Elvis’ direction, and then he reaches into the bedside cabinet drawer, letting her carry on moving of her own accord. 

She hears the lid of the lube bottle click and stops moving. Not noticing the noise, Jerry’s hands move to her hips now and start to move her on him instead. Coating his finger in lube, Elvis moves back to where he was and then gently presses it against her entrance. He bites his lip as he rubs her asshole firmly. She feels like her brain is short-circuiting, and it’s even worse when the finger slips inside and she can feel it and Jerry’s dick at the same time. 

“Ohhh fuck,” she moans. 

Jerry can’t see what’s happening from the angle he’s looking, but he sees the lube bottle on the bed and has a fairly good idea. Elvis starts to move his finger in and out at the same pace as he strokes his own dick, then when he feels her relax he slips in another. He’s starting to think this is the hottest fucking thing he’s ever done, at the age of 62, and he thanks God for whoever invented those amazing pills. 

When he removes his fingers, Tegan knows what’s coming. They hadn’t directly talked about it, but they’d sort of skirted the issue a couple of times. She’s pretty confident he knows she has fantasised about this and that there’s no way she’d say no, but it’s still pretty intense when Elvis tells them both to stay still and she feels him start to push his way inside her. Although she’s used to him, she’s not used to having another dick in her pussy too and the feeling threatens to overwhelm her. 

“How’re ya doin’, baby?” Elvis asks when he finally bottoms out, his voice husky with lust.

“This is fucking intense!” She squeaks, and then finds herself giggling. 

“Fuck me you’re not wrong, honey,” Jerry replies.

Elvis’ thumbs massage her hip bones gently. 

“Yeah, my dick is intensely near Jerry’s right now.”

“I mean, this was your idea, EP.”

All three of them giggle together and the atmosphere in the room changes. 

“Honey, I’m gonna move. Jer, you stay still. Think we might haveta do this one at a time.”

“Okay.”

Tegan tries hard to keep breathing as Elvis starts to slowly move in and out of her, gentle, long strokes. He moans at the feeling, she’s even tighter than she had been with just him and he knows he won’t last long. Holding on to her hips, he moves a little faster, feeling his release building at the base of his dick. 

“Fuck. Baby I’m gonna cum,” he breathes, and then he does, long and hard and a little louder than he was anticipating. 

Tegan moans too at the feeling of him deep inside her, and then again as he pulls out. She closes her eyes, feeling tears prick at the corners of her eyes with the intensity of all the sensations. 

“Can I… uh…?” Jerry gestures at Elvis and the other man nods, waves of pleasure still crashing over him as he watches his girlfriend and best friend rearrange so that Jerry is on top. 

Jerry wastes no time getting what he wants now he has permission, Tegan’s thighs in his grasp as he pounds her hard and fast. Enjoying watching her breasts bounce with the brutal rhythm he’s setting, listening to her increasingly loud moans. 

“I’m close,” Jerry moans, thinking he almost certainly needs permission to cum inside Elvis’ girlfriend. 

“Tell him where you want it, baby.”

“Ugh. Don’t care.” 

Tegan is teetering on the edge of another orgasm and she really doesn’t want Jerry to pull out any time soon, but she also can’t formulate the words to say that. And then she doesn’t have to, because it becomes quite obvious to everyone in the room what’s happening, as she arches her back again and almost squeals. 

“Fuck, fuck fuck.”

Jerry moans loudly, feeling her walls squeeze him into oblivion, cumming inside her as his orgasm washes over him like a tsunami. 

“Holy shit.”

The three of them lay where they each collapse on the bed for a while, trying to get their breaths back as they float around on their highs. After a while they rearrange so they all have their heads on the pillows, Elvis’ hand on one of Tegan’s breasts whilst Jerry’s rests on her belly. 

“I should uh… leave you two to it,” Jerry says, quietly, as he watches Elvis and Tegan kiss languorously. 

Tegan moves her head quickly. “Please stay.”

He blinks, almost forgetting for a moment that she was a person with preferences. “Oh… uh… I dunno.”

She turns to look at him properly. “Don’t get me wrong, you can’t sleep in this bed too, I have enough trouble with him,” she gestures behind her with her thumb. “But I feel really close to you after that, and I want you to stay for a while and cuddle.”

“Well I guess I can’t refuse a pretty girl asking me for a cuddle.”

“Ya definitely cannot, Jer,” Elvis chips in. 

“And um… you’re staying for the weekend, right?”

He nods. “If you want me.”

Tegan giggles. “Oh. I definitely want you.”

“Hey!” Elvis snaps, a hint of jealousy in his voice for the first time that evening. 

Tegan rolls back over towards him. “Oh, ‘raur. I want you too. Nothing to be jealous of.”

He narrows his eyes at her a little and she kisses him. 

“‘M still yours,” she murmurs against his lips. 

“Yes, y’are.”

He pushes her gently but firmly onto her back and then looks over her, at Jerry. “Can ya believe she thought I’d find someone better?”

“She said that?”

“She did.”

“How could you find someone better than this?” Jerry asks, his hand trailing down her body. 

Tegan finds herself blushing again. “Stop it, you two.”

“Ignore that, Jer. This pretty little doll is supposed ta be stayin’ quiet whilst we talk about her.”

She buries her head in Elvis’ chest hearing those words, and Jerry wraps himself around her, enjoying the feeling of her skin against his. Elvis takes her hand in his and uses his other hand to stroke her thigh. 

“Did ya like her pussy, Jer?”

“I loved it, E. Nice and tight.” His hand moves between her legs and holds her there. She squeezes her eyes shut more tightly. 

“Not as tight as her pretty little asshole, but that’s jus’ fer me.”

Tegan squeaks. 

Elvis chuckles, and she can hear the low rumble of it in his chest. “Jus’ tryin’ ta make ya understand the effect yer havin’ on us, honey.”

“Okay, okay. I get it.”

Jerry presses a kiss to her shoulder. “You’ve really given me a happy Christmas, Tegan. You should know that… I’ve been pretty depressed for a while now and this is the most fun I’ve had for ages.”

“Ya should thank me, Jer, not her.”

Tegan shifts, poking Elvis in the side and making him giggle ticklishly. “Stop that now! That’s enough!”

He chuckles again and rolls towards her. “You told her down, Jer. I’ll tickle her.”

***

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[lost-in-fandoms]

Winter warmers day 25: Holiday alone time. No pairing. A bit of Max&GP. About 1.2k words.

Max sits down on the carpet, back against the couch, setting his glass of gin tonic down beside him.

The house is quiet, and he closes his eyes, letting his head fall back right beside where Sassy is curled up, listening to her breathing.

It's weird to be alone at Christmas.

He can't remember it ever happening before. Even in the worst years, when money was tight and home wasn't always a happy place, he was never alone.

It's not that he lacked invitations. His mom had called several times telling him to go, and Victoria had invited him too. Even some of his friends had reached out, telling him about their plans, asking him to join. But for the first time, all Max wanted for Christmas was silence.

He had plans lined up for the weeks after new years, and for the months after that, but the idea of having to be Max Verstappen for one more minute had been unbearable.

So he had told everyone he was busy, he had plans, he was fine, and then he had closed himself in his house and had let his brain go quiet.

He shifts slightly, moving his head closer to Sassy, nuzzling her side with his nose until she chirps at him, curling away.

"Just you and I, Sassy girl," he murmurs, attempting to kiss her paw and failing, only succeeding in making her shift further away. Somewhere in the kitchen, he hears Jimmy hops down from a chair, never one to be left out.

When he had told Victoria his plans for the holidays, she had asked him if he was having a midlife crisis too early, which is a stupid thing to say, because you never know when the middle of your life is. And also, Max is not having a crisis.

He's just...tired.

He had thought that retirement would mean finally having time to himself, but so far, two full weeks into it, this was the first day he had felt like he could leave his phone on the table and not having to check it. The first day he had nothing on his schedule. No meetings, no sponsor dinners, no videos to film, no streams to entertain.

Just him, his drink, and his cats.

He lets his eyes fall closed, a hand instinctively going to cover his glass, because Jimmy is always sticking his nose where he shouldn't.

He knows sitting on the floor is not the smartest choice, he can feel a twinge in his lower back already, but the carpet feels nice under his fingers, and he doesn't feel like getting up.

Jimmy's wet nose bumps against his wrist, nosing along the rim of the glass, and Max chuckles, opening one eye to look down at him, predictably finding him trying to get into his gin tonic.

"That's not for kittens," he chides softly, pushing him away and then dragging him close with his free hand. Jimmy, contrary to what Sassy would have done, lets himself be moved around and placed in his lap, already purring.

For a while, they just stay like that. Sassy breathing, Jimmy purring and Max just listening. Quiet.

Then Max's phone chimes once, making him jump.

He doesn't want to check it. He doesn't want to have to be a person again, even if just for the time it would take to answer a text, but he reaches for it anyway, the worry that it could be something important gnawing at him.

Should I be worried about you?

Max frowns, looking at the text from GP. No hellos, no how are yous, just that puzzling question. Their last conversation had been about the red bull Christmas party, about taking a car together.

No?

His phone immediately pings again, as if GP had been waiting for him to answer.

I heard you're hiding and the Max I know doesn't hide. So, should I be worried?

Who the fuck has been snitching to GP?

I am not hiding I am having some well earned alone time. I am perfectly fine.

He sends it before he can think too hard about it, not wanting to question if it's the whole truth. He is fine. There is nothing physically wrong with him, and he is content, sitting here with his cats. The fact that he also feels weirdly lost and exhausted doesn't change the fact that he is fine.

Do you want to come here?

That doesn't require much thinking. He's spent time with GP's family before, and they're lovely, but if he had wanted to spend time with people he would have gone home.

No thank you.

I can be in Monaco tomorrow.

Max pauses, fingers hesitating before he can type his refusal. He doesn't need anyone to come over. He's fine. And he still doesn't feel like having to be Max Verstappen, doesn't have the energy for it.

But GP is different. GP never made him feel like he should be anyone other than himself. And GP can be quiet, quiet enough to let Max's brain be silent too.

Are you bored of retirement already?

It's not a yes, or a no, but Max hopes that GP will figure it out anyway.

I'll be there for lunch. You can call me if you need anything.

GP always does.

Max drops his phone again to take a sip of his gin tonic, the ice melting in it already, then turning to try and nuzzle Sassy again.

In the safe space of his silent house he is finally able to admit to himself that maybe, just maybe, he isn't absolutely fine. He feels lost, like for the first time in his life he doesn't know what his next step is, and he feels tired, like his whole racing career caught up with him all at once.

But that's okay. GP will be here tomorrow, and he will sort him out. Because he always does.

[jennajayfeather]

Made the mistake of re-watching Cells at Work and he grabbed me by the throat.

[secrescaryat]

// pentiment spoilers (implied ig but still there)

more of these because i was inspired