#are you gonna get seasonal for christmas too? :o

[thinkingnot]

TRICK OR TREAT >:33

TREAT!!!

my PEA 🫛 heheheh the tiny nub(?) lil poking out at the top stem of the pea is to pull to open and you can spill out these pea balls candies (that isn’t pea flavor because that would taste quite strange) (it shall be a mysterious green flavor that you like :D maybe matcha or cream soda :O!!!)

[nhlclover]

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 | 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒

— cozytober masterlist !

summary: your first halloween spent in your new house together becomes unforgettable after a trick-or-treater brings unexpected joy for you and jack

warnings: literally so much fluff it's crazy, jack kind of having a revelation

word count: 1.36k

notes: tenth and final fic of cozytober! hope you enjoy i thought this was such a cute idea.

As October settled in, the air grew crisp, carrying with it the scent of fallen leaves. Your neighborhood began to glow with an eerie charm — orange and purple lights strung along rooftops, spider webs draped haphazardly over bushes, and grinning jack-o'-lanterns perched on porches, their flickering candles casting shadows on the pavement. It was your first Halloween in your new home, and excitement buzzed in the air. You and Jack had spent the last few weeks transforming your house into a Halloween wonderland, determined to embrace the spooky season in full.

“This is going to be such a good Halloween,” you said, standing in the kitchen surrounded by packages of candy. You poured another mountain of treats into the bowl, feeling like a kid yourself.

Jack, lounging against the counter, raised an eyebrow and smirked. “You know we’re probably gonna be that house, right? The one that gives out so much candy the kids talk about it all year?”

You grinned back, unbothered. “Good! We never got to do this in the apartment. We’re going all out.” You tossed another bag of chocolates into the mix, the bowl overflowing now.

Your previous apartment building didn’t have many kids, and handing out candy was never part of your Halloween traditions. But this year, nestled in a family-filled suburb, it felt like you were finally getting the Halloween you’d always wanted — the decorations, the costumes, the eager trick-or-treaters. You could hardly wait.

When the doorbell rang for the first time, you practically leapt off the couch. “They’re here!” you squealed, racing to the door like a child on Christmas morning. Swinging it open, you were greeted by a group of tiny witches, superheroes, and a very tiny dinosaur with a tail too long for his legs. Their eyes widened at the sight of your candy bowl, and you couldn’t resist giving them extra, their excitement contagious.

You watched them scamper off down the walkway, their candy bags bouncing, before collapsing onto the couch next to Jack, who had Ghostbusters queued up on the TV. “There was this little dinosaur, and his tail kept dragging behind him,” you laughed, snuggling under his arm. “It was adorable.”

“Is that what happens every time the door opens? You’re going to give me a recap of all the costumes you see?” Jack smirked, pulling you in closer.

“Absolutely,” you grinned, poking him playfully. “I don’t want you missing out on all the cuteness.”

And that’s exactly what you did. Each time the doorbell rang, you bounded up, eager to meet the next batch of trick-or-treaters. After every encounter, you’d return to Jack, excitedly recounting the different costumes — witches, zombies, fairies, and one memorable kid dressed as a very squishy marshmallow. Jack would laugh at your eagerness, but you could tell he enjoyed each one of your recaps.

Between the rounds of doorbell dashes, you and Jack sank into the movie, the Halloween vibe settling in like a comfortable blanket around you. The evening was perfect — the glow of the porch lights, the hum of neighborhood excitement, and Jack’s arm wrapped around you, making it all feel just right.

As the night began to slow and fewer knocks came, the doorbell rang one last time. You jumped up, still full of energy. “I’ve got it!” you called, already halfway to the door.

Opening it, you were greeted by a sight that made you freeze — a kid fully decked out in hockey gear, pads, helmet, gloves, and all. But what caught your attention was the jersey. The black, white, and red jersey stood out in the dark, the 86 on the sleeve glimmering under the porch light.

“Trick or treat!” the small voice squeaked from beneath the helmet.

Your jaw dropped as you let out a small gasp. “Oh my gosh, you look amazing!” you gushed. “Hold on—there’s someone who has to see this.”

You darted back into the living room, grabbing Jack by the arm. “Come on, you’ve gotta see this!”

Jack, confused but curious, paused the movie and followed you to the door. The second he saw the mini-hockey player in his own jersey, his eyes widened in surprise. The kid looked up, eyes shining as he recognized Jack.

“You’re Jack Hughes!” the little boy said, his voice filled with awe.

Jack crouched down to the kid’s level, smiling. “Looking good out there, bud,” he said, adjusting the boy’s helmet so it wasn’t covering his eyes.

The kid's dad, standing at the end of the walkway, waved his phone. “Would it be alright if we got a picture?” he asked, clearly as excited as his son.

“Of course,” Jack grinned. He knelt beside the kid, who raised his hockey stick proudly. You quickly snapped a few photos, capturing the pure joy on both their faces.

Before they headed off, you grabbed two fistfuls of candy and dropped them into the boy’s sack. “You get some extra candy for having the best costume we’ve seen all night,” you told him, smiling as he skated on his roller blades down the walkway.

Jack stood there for a moment, still processing what had just happened. You could see a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched the boy skate off.

“That was seriously cool,” Jack admitted, sliding his arm around your waist.

You nudged him playfully. “You’re a little stunned, huh?”

Jack chuckled, his eyes still lingering on the street where the kid had disappeared. “Yeah, I mean, it's one thing to see people wearing my jersey at games, but that little guy was really into it. He looked like he was having the best night of his life.”

There was a warmth in his voice, a mix of pride and disbelief. “It’s gotta feel pretty surreal seeing a kid look up to you like that,” you said, guiding him back into the house, his eyes still going back to the kid who was far down the street now.

Jack nodded, his smile widening as you took your places on the couch once more. “It just… it reminds me that this whole hockey thing is bigger than just me, you know? Seeing him so pumped, dressed as me for Halloween… it kind of makes it all feel worth it in a different way. A way that’s not just for me.”

You could tell that moment meant more to him than he let on. His eyes glinted with that same spark he had when he was passionate about something, and you loved seeing him like that.

As you both settled back onto the couch, you leaned your head on Jack’s shoulder, feeling the warmth of the moment settle in. “You made that kid’s night,” you said softly, glancing up at him.

Jack’s arm tightened around you, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I think he made mine too,” he replied, his voice filled with a contentment that made your heart swell.

As the credits rolled on the movie, you sighed happily. “Best Halloween ever,” you murmured, smiling to yourself.

Jack chuckled, resting his chin on your head. “You always say that,” he teased.

You laughed, looking up at him. “Well, this time I mean it.”

He grinned down at you, his eyes twinkling with affection. “Good. Because I kind of want to make this our new tradition. Decorating, handing out candy, watching you light up with every costume… I could get used to this.”

You leaned up and kissed him softly, feeling that familiar, comforting warmth between you. “Me too,” you whispered. “Me too.”

As you both sat there, the last remnants of Halloween fading into the quiet night, you couldn’t help but think about how special this first Halloween in your new home had been. It wasn’t just the decorations or the candy or even the costumes — it was the moments, big and small, that made it unforgettable. Moments like Jack seeing a kid in his jersey, or the way you both had embraced the evening together, fully present and happy.

And you knew that no matter how many Halloweens came after this one, this would always be the one that set the bar.

[bunnys-kisses]

For your halloween special, can i have all dressed chips, with a espresso Martini by max verstappen plssss

halloween menu - bakery menu

spooky scary post-halloween submission! thank you so much for the request. it has been fun to write this one, so i hope that you love it. i know that the spooky season is over, but we can probably have a little more halloween magic until christmas, haha!

all-dressed chips: "i'd propose right now. but not while you're wearing this." + espresso martini: dom!character served by max verstappen (formula one)

tags: smut/pwp, dom & mad!max, driver!reader, established relationship, car sex (sort of), fingering/clit teasing & oral sex (reader receives)

"you can't laugh at this." you said as you zipped up the driver's suit to your neck. you looked in the mirror before you shushed your teammate. you turned in the mirror a little, "oh he's gonna freak when he sees this."

daniel laughed into his fist and you shushed your teammate before you turned to him and away from the mirror. the driving suit was so much baggier than yours. especially in the shoulders and thighs. you knew that if the team found out about this, they would lose it.

they were very particular with where the drive suit of the great max verstappen was at all times. and currently it was on your body as you and your teammate rushed to his car before you ended up at a halloween party in austin.

to be a couple on two separate teams often led to a flurry of discussions and rumors. you had about four pregnancy rumors happen oven the course of the season. that didn't mention the three cheating rumors (that was your cousin that photo) or the five secret wedding rumors. you hated those ones the most because they always made it seem like your wedding choices were tacky.

but tonight, you were thankful there were no press members lurking around the house that was rented out by the mclaren team for the austin weekend. and since it was close enough to halloween, that meant the drivers and others could have a party. and while it wasn't a dress up party, you took it upon yourself to have the best costume.

your teammate, daniel, was dressed a cowboy. you even remarked, 'you might give me a run for my money tonight." as you looked in the mirror to see if your lip gloss was ended up above your lip. he laughed and the two of you got out of the parking lot before the gate to the track was closed.

-

at the house, you spotted max waiting outside with his arms crossed and leaned up against the gate. when he saw you get out of the car, he was instantly over to you. it wasn't until he got closer that he noticed that you were wearing his driver suit.

he laughed, "you look so amazing." he scooped you up in his arms and looked at you with a smile, "very authentic."

you giggled, "it's a red bull original."

max looked at you, "i..is that my suit?"

you nodded, "yeah, well worn today and everything." you felt max hold onto you a little tighter and you got your hands into the front of his t-shirt. you looked at him, "i wanted to be the best dressed."

he swallowed then laughed, "well, i think it's a mission accomplished." he could feel the swirl in his gut.

daniel piped up after he locked the car doors, "what about me, max?" he laughed, "i think i kill it tonight too, mate." then winked at his former teammate.

max laughed, "why did i have a feeling that you were going as a cowboy tonight?" then ushered you into the house against his worst judgement. the back of his mind was calling for him to stuck you in the backseat and make the car rock.

so much was covered, but to know that you were in max's gear turned him on. so the entire night his gaze was on you, his hand on your lower back and when he could, his lips on yours. a night of partying ended with max driving you back to your hotel room.

"show me what's under it? got my fireproofs on too?" he asked. his hand was on the zipper and trying to get it down while you drove him. you helped him and he caught a glimpse of your bra underneath.

"i'd propose right now. but not while you're wearing this." he laughed, "and not when there's a risk i'll crash the car." he did however snake his hand between your legs, "fuck, you're so warm."

you moaned as he managed to get under your panties and rub against your clit. the sensation made you jolt and he laughed.

"aw c'mon, my love. you're always so calm on the track? what's the problem now? can't handle a little fun?" it didn't help that the speed he was driving left after shocks through your body.

you were both on quiet back end roads in texas. no one around for a good while, so of course max could rev the engine a little bit while he stimulated your clit. the strength of a formula one driver was concentration and the ability to calculate many things at once.

for example max's rough thumb was against your clit, moving in motions that were making you a total mess in the car. his eyes were on the road and he was going over the speed limit so he could almost stimulate your achy sex. all while not crashing the car.

they could give him the wdc for that feat alone.

your heart was racing in your ears and your pussy soaked through your cotton panties. max knew if he smelled his suit the next morning, it was going to reek like your achy cunt. and he wouldn't mind racing like that.

"shit, max. ah." you groaned and you shifted your hips to get a better feeling of his rough fingers. you swallowed back a particularly loud moan to escape from your lips. you prayed, hoped that no one would find out about this. you didn't need that on the front pages.

"you sound so pretty when you're needy." he purred, "i love how you sound. i feel like i should spank you for stealing my suit, but stealing it is quite the feat i have to say. mmmm, pretty thing."

his words sent shocked through you as you felt the blush bloom in your cheeks with an erotic want. there was something about max verstappen that drove you insane.

eventually he pulled his fingers away from your soaked sex and licked the bit of wetness off his thumb and knuckle. he groaned a little before he pulled into a nearby closed gas station parking lot.

"get in the backseat." he said before he watched you scramble to the back and he followed after. he almost hit his head against the top of the sports car he was driving. you chest was heavy in the low light of the parking lot.

max tugged at the suit, almost ripping the zipper to get access to your soaked cunt. he pushed the crotch of the cotton panties to get access to your sex. you could feel everything tight as he was pulled, but max's tongue on your aching cunt made it all better.

his pace was messy with two of his fingers pushed inside of you for added pleasure. he was a messy eater when he ate you out and you weren't too sure how much time you'd have before someone drove by. the car rocked a little as he pleasured you.

"fuck, ah, max." you didn't know this would've given him such a response. but, you loved it. you loved how his tongue felt against your achy cunt. you had been thinking about him during the party because he was in your space so much.

he groaned against your pussy, your wetness was up to his nose and almost at his cheeks. he went all in when it came to oral sex, that was why it made it so easy for you to climax because of him.

you moaned a little louder and held onto his hair for a moment as you felt the climax wash over you. the feeling hit you like a ton of bricks and it made you hot all over. you felt the fire in your gut as he made you feel on cloud nine.

"oh my god." you panted heavily as he smirked against your soaked pussy before he looked up at you. you could see the glisten of your wetness across his face.

"i'm not done with you yet. let's see how durable this suit really is." he chuckled as you heard the unzip of his jeans.

-

being in red bull's head office the morning after a party was never a good thing. it was a situation most tried to avoid being. but as you sat with daniel and max across from horner and mekies wasn't a way to start the morning.

"can we at least get coffee." you groaned.

"no." horner replied.

apparently max's racing suit went missing last night. only to be found in your hotel room this morning. daniel was in the office for abetting in the theft. you wanted to die when christian showed the three of you the pictures of the stains on the suit. daniel hid his mouth behind his hand, to not make a very funny (yet very mean comment). you pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes and prayed for a moment that you'd go blind.

"this will result in a fine and community service." which made the three of you groan. the media was going to have a field day with this one <3

[fairestwriting]

Hey, hello, would it be possible to request the first years with a crush or s/o who's constantly very warm so they can basically act as a human heating pad but despite this they're very touch starved and basically melt into hugs and cuddles, gender neutral pronouns would be great, thank you very much and merry (probably late) Christmas if you do this and same to you even if you don't!

another oldie (Visibly. im so sorry anon. i hope an awesome holiday season) i just had to take...... in the name of all my fellow human space heaters

Ace Trappola

One day, his hands got cold, and you were nearby, neck fully exposed, and Ace did what he would obviously do in this situation. Except it turned out he was the one shocked by how warm you are, even though he did make you jump a bit.

He's a fan of the physical affection. He doesn't fluster easily and likes showing you off all smug, linking your arms together or putting his over your shoulder while you're with your friends. The warmth is a great bonus.

When you cuddle up in a hot day, he whines about how you're gonna cook him alive and will jokingly "attempt" to push you off while giggling, then turning on the AC of his room or dragging you both somewhere cooler.

Deuce Spade

The first time you hug, Deuce gets spooked because he thinks you have a fever. He fusses over you for a few good minutes before you can explain anything. Then gets embarrassed of his reaction.

Being Deuce, he'll randomly revisit this worry, but mostly he just eases into it rather easily. He's a little shy, whether you're in public or not, but you can tell he feels comfortable with the way he leans into you.

Feels so bad if you're holding hands and his gets sweaty. Apologizes a billion times while wiping it clean on his shirt. Nevermind that it'd happen even if you weren't so warm, he just doesn't want you to ever feel awkward when touching him.

Jack Howl

Also really warm because of his wolf beastman genes, also surprisingly touchy. It's hard to tell which one of you is warmer, actually? Which in the end just means you end up comfortably cuddled up very oftwn.

...whenever you're away from others, of course. It's not that Jack hates the thought of PDA, but he "prefers to take it slow" (Read: Makes him blush way too easy)

Commiserates in the summer and celebrates in the winter if you're not very tolerant to heat like him. Sometimes he talks about his family's trips to the north with a voice softer than usual, hinting just a little bit that he'd really love it if you came along one day.

Epel Felmier

He's also on the warmer side temperature wise, but he's small, so he ends up getting cold surprisingly easily.

At first he's a bit spooked with the touchyness, really just because it's his first relationship, but it grows on him. A lot.

Epel thinks him getting cold easy-ish is embarrassing, so he really feels like he won the lottery here. Now he gets to put his arm around your waist to stay warm and look cool with you by his side, boy's on top of the world.

Sebek Zigvolt

Runs very cold. The first time your hand is anywhere on him he jumps a bit. The situation's like the inverse of someone who gets startled by their friend's cold hands pressed to their neck.

He briefly questions if you're really human, stammering something about how only beastmen are so warm. He's too distracted by how nice your warmth feels to make much sense.

He's so easily flustered every time you get cuddly, but if he even tries to push you off (Which he mostly just does if you're in public) it comes out all feeble. Even if he's trying to keep up with etiquette and you two actually have to step away from each other, it's all over his face that he misses the coziness.

if you wanna support my work, you can buy me a ko-fi or commission me!

[sashi-ya]

東京 NIGHTS mini event

𝑭𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑯𝑼𝑵𝑫𝑹𝑬𝑫 𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑷𝑺ㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𓂃 ࣪˖ ichigo kurosaki x f! reader

⤹˚ synopsis. adult! ichigo takes you to a winter date to the tokyo tower, climb the steps by his hand, let him guide you the sky.

requested by: @cofeedaifuku ➡ Hello! It has been a really long time since I last requested, so I’m a little shy, but knowing that you are the one that is going to receive it calms me down. Can I request Adult! Ichigo with the prompt to see the tokyo tower at night? Nsfw, female reader she/her, (I’m really bad with requests so I don’t know if I should describe the details of the ask, but in any case, something like Ichigo just loves his s/o so much and he just looks at her and completely loses control. Please ignore this if it is not the case.) tw: MDNI. slight nsfw. adult! ichigo. masturbation through the clothes. wc: 1.7k masterlist

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤHis hand feels warm, powerful too. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤYour hand, in his, feels tiny… protected.

“Can you make some time for me?” that’s how he asked; Ichigo had red apples for cheeks when he did. Your eyes shined like five-point stars; you waited for him to ask you out since forever…

Through the cold streets of Tokyo, the frosting sound beneath your feet sound like cracking. The trees, all of them decorated with silver fairy lights. A gleaming spectacle to the eyes, contrasting with the visible glooming cold of December.

Christmas is right around the corner; the streets are busier than ever. People carry big bags with gifts during a Saturday night, but both of you aren’t buying stuff.

“Have you ever been to the Tokyo tower during winter?” Ichigo asks, stuttering. For some reason, he can be a totally different man when it comes to be all alone with you.

“I never been there during the winter season! I am excited to see the lights!” you chime, so happy your heart could jump out of your chest. Spending time alone with him feels like a dream come true.

Ichigo smiles softly, his eyes flutter to the ground in sign of happiness but still total shyness. “I am glad I chose a good spot, then” he murmurs, scratching the back of his head.

You nod, with a lovely beam. You wish to tell him any spot with him would be perfect, but what if it’s too much? What if it’s not proper?

As you wait for the light street to turn to green, he fidgets with his fingers. His eyes are fixed on your hanging hand, the ginger man is dying to hold it.

You notice, and internally giggle. You help him, letting your sleeve slightly go up. There is no point on acting more shy than him.

Soon enough -or at least right when the red light turns to green- Ichigo snatches your hand. It’s not delicate, it is clumsy but definitely dominant, the way he grabs you and pulls you through the crowd.

Your eyes shine brightly with the lights all around, and the wind plays with your hair looking like the typical shoujo scenes.

Your sight wanders and lands on the freckled cheeks of the strawberry boy; a little blush garnishes his skin, but he has that look of fearless man you know too well. He has decided to stop being shy, to finally get what he came to gain.

A few more steps and your eyes get blessed by the imponent look of the Tokyo Tower in front of you. The red metallic pieces now shine lights of different silver shades. And as you look up, a halo of cold mist surrounds its upper levels.

“Beautiful” you murmur, causing in Ichigo to gasp and look right into your eyes.

“You… you are…” he mumbles, immediately looking away with long orange lashes that cast beautiful shadows over his galaxy cheeks.

You bite your lower lip with a smile, how cute…

“Let’s hurry up, or we aren’t gonna be able to get there before it closes” he tells you, pulling you softly towards the entrance where a man kindly scans the Qr codes from different tickets. You nod and follow him, never once letting you go from your hand.

Once inside, while most of the people decide to take the elevator, both of you chose to climb the 600 steps of the outside stairs. It’s a lot more magical to see the lights of the city as you go up, even if the cold air may seem painful to your lungs. But you don’t care, and neither does he.

You follow him, with the sound of your feet hitting the metallic steps and the heart pumping as hard as them. The more you climb, the more beautiful the city looks beneath your feet.

Ichigo turns around to look at you from time to time, and he is smiling preciously. A beam that he rarely has on his face, but that is big enough to make his brown eyes squint.

The first checkpoint gets cleared, 200 steps in. Then the second one, this time with a little more difficulty. 400 steps, laughing and almost running are a lot more than what your body is used to. However, you want to keep going, but you definitely need to catch some air first.  

“Wai-wait Ichigo” you giggle, taking some deep breath of humid cold air through your mouth.

“Oh… sorry, I- I didn’t mean to make you run that much- I…” he excuses himself, watching you with guilty puppy eyes.

You simply laugh. It is more than okay. If you wanna keep up with him, you need to train. He is an amazing substitute Shinigami, and not only that but the stronger ever made; the least you can do is to be able to climb some steps fast enough to catch up with him.

“No worries Kurosaki-kun. I just needed a little bit of air; let’s go” you rush to keep climbing, even if you are clearly not recuperated still. Your head is a little bit dizzy, your legs a little weak.

You try to walk towards him, but you feel like everything around turns dark for some seconds. And Ichigo notices right away.

“(Name)? are you ok?” he urges you for an answer while his arms surround your tired body with his protective embrace.

You would lie if you said you were feeling bad; after all Ichigo is now hugging you. Nothing could go wrong.

“I am fine… I just got a little lightheaded” you whisper, looking up at him. Your nose barely grazing the sharp jaw of the Shinigami. Looking how his Adam’s apple move as he swallows in clear sign of nervousness.

And even if you wanted to move away from his arms, you couldn’t as he kept pulling you closer, tightly against his chest.

The scent of his soft perfume mixed with the one his winter skin has, reminds you how much you desire him. You want him, you want to praise him, and you also want his lips against your lips.

“Please, rest for some minutes more…” he mumbles, this time delicately pushing your head towards his chest. “You need to breathe calmly…” he continues, enjoying perhaps a lot more than he should the closeness of your skin against his.

You don’t dare to argue; you don’t want to. You just want for him to hug you so eternally, and even after too. You nod, nuzzled in the little crook that his prominent collar bones form in the middle of his chest. The little patch of visible skin in between his scarf and white big coat, is all you need to rest assure for the rest of your life.

His hand slowly goes down to the small of your back; his touch is not indecent, it is caring and loving and despite that, the sexual tension in between both of you is undeniable.

You place your ear on his chest, letting yourself go with the song of his beating heart… allowing yours to beat in perfect synchronicity with it. Your eyes open, and they get filled by the view of a city that never seems to sleep, with neon lights flashing all over long, long streets.

Ichigo does the same, both look through the metallic red protective net for some minutes until a little white fluff falling from the sky catches your attention.

“It’s snowing…” you whisper, snaking your arms around his waist. “How beautiful, it is the first one this year”

“Yes…” Ichigo sighs, with trembling voice and reiatsu growing stronger inside the very core of his body. He is gaining strength, or perhaps thinking carefully about his next actions… what he is about to do, might change the destiny of both.

You know it too; when it’s right, you just know…

“Ichigo, I…” you murmur, looking up at him with your eyes plastered on his lips. Giving him the permission to kiss you once, and as many times as he want.

With the same hand he wields his zanpakuto to protect, he now grabs your chin and rather desperately kisses your lips. When your mouths crash against the other, both let some air scape your lungs, living off each other’s souls. More and more, deepening the kiss, melting into one.

The light show of the tower, the last of tonight, begins. Nobody seems to notice you two, neither you notice the lasers blinking through the heavy atmosphere of cold and snowflakes falling.

His hands, this time pooling in the small of your back in concupiscent intention, pulls you closer than ever before. You notice how much of a man he has become; grown up to be stronger and also to be sexier, mature, extremely attractive.

Your belly, feeling the hardness growing in between Ichigo’s winter clothes. Your legs, quivering as his tongue plays with yours in wet, lustful kiss.

The loud songs coming from inside, accompanying the light spectacle, letting your moans to be unheard by the rest as his hands slips so needy in between your tights from under your flannel skirt.

Ichigo’s fingertips get wet, as they rub against your stockings. You shiver and jolt, as he presses right in the spot. The graze of the tights and panties on your clit makes you whine louder into his mouth. A moan he eats so pleased, so hectically.

“I-Ichigo… I….” you stutter, so close to the very first climax of the night… just by the simple touch of his hands with your clothes still on.

“I know… I know… I am sorry, I couldn’t stop myself no more…” he sighs, kissing your forehead but never stopping the circular motions on your core. “I just love you so damn much, (Name)…” he finally confesses, breathing your last moan before you could melt right there, into a mess of sexual desire unleashed and pleased.

“I… I am… Ichigo…” “I know, let’s go back to the hotel… I wouldn’t like you catching a cold, we can come back tomorrow…It was a good idea to come all the way from Karakura town to Tokyo with you 💖~”

[trickphotography2]

'tis the damn season | Chapter 3

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Julie/Cece (OC, no physical description)

Word count: 6.7K

Synopsis: After six years away from home, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin was finally going to make his parents happy and surprise his family by spending Christmas in Magnolia, Texas. Introducing his pregnant fiancee to his family is a culture clash, with rural Texas meeting California influencer. Though unhappy in his relationship, Jake knows he has to buckle down and do the right thing with a baby on the way.

The last person he expected to run into was his high school sweetheart and the one that got away, Julie.

The holidays are already going to be hard enough for Julie. Her home baking business, which had started as a fun side project, exploded after a few TikToks went viral. Just when she was getting the hang of juggling her job and business, tragedy struck. Facing her first Christmas as an orphan, the last thing Julie expected was to hear that once familiar nickname - Cece.

After almost a decade apart, Jake and Julie can't help but feel that old familiar spark. Even with the realities of their lives pressing in, they can't help but wonder what might have happened if just one of them had fought for their relationship all those years ago.

Chapter 2 | Master List | Ao3

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Chapter 3

“Lookin’ good, cowboy!” Shayla called, phone held up as Jake cantered back to the barn. The mare he was riding - Starlight - tossed her head, and he couldn’t help but smile. It’d been too long since he’d been in the saddle. 

“I didn’t think you’d be up,” he replied, gently tugging the reins to stop Starlight beside her. 

“Your mom was vacuuming the hallway,” she shrugged. He chuckled - he’d been wondering how long Mama would let her sleep in until 10:00AM before getting her out of bed. Apparently, guest privileges lasted two days. Shay stepped back, panning the camera to follow him as he dismounted, patting the horse’s neck before taking her bridle and leading her back into the barn. When he glanced over his shoulder, she was still filming. At his raised eyebrow, she giggled. “Sorry, you’re just so fucking sexy. This is gonna get a ton of views.” Facing forward, he clenched his jaw to keep from saying anything. Leading Starlight into her stall, he removed her tack and gave her a quick brush before tossing a blanket over her back. Shayla stopped him when he moved to get a treat from the feed barrel. “Can I?”

“Sure,” he shrugged, retrieving a carrot and handing it to her. She shoved the phone into his hands and looked at him expectantly until he lifted it to film her feeding the horse. As soon as it was gone, she spun towards him and threw her arms around him, pressing her lips to his. Jake kissed her back, willing himself to feel something as her tongue traced his lips. Her hands fell to his waist, slipping into his jacket and tugging his shirt from his jeans. “Shay,” he said, catching her hands.

“Come on, Jakey,” she cooed. “I miss you.” 

“I - ”

“Jacob THOMAS Seresin!” Jumping back as though he’d been scalded, he turned to see his mother standing in the doorway, hands on her hips and green eyes flashing. 

“Ma’am?” he frowned, watching as her eyes shot to Shayla and her scowl deepened. 

“Do you have something to tell me?” 

“Ma’am?” he repeated. 

“Do you. Have. Something. To tell. Me.” He glanced at Shay, who gave him a shy smile. 

“Uh…” 

“I’d like you to explain to me, young man, how it is right for a mother to find out that her baby is having a baby on the internet. Why did I get a text from Betty, whose daughter found it on TikTok, instead of hearing it from you? Hm?” 

Jake whipped around to scowl at Shayla, stepping back from her. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“I… may have dropped a hint in the last video. It was just us getting here.” He ran a hand down his face, remembering how she’d filmed herself with her hand on her stomach in the car. Turning to face his mother, she said, “Sorry to have you find out this way, but surprise! Looks like you have two grandbabies on the way!” 

Taking a deep breath, his mother closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. After a moment, she squared her shoulders and pinned them with a heavy gaze. “I’m happy for you, but you need to tell your father before he finds out this way. We deserved to hear it from you directly, not from some video about you coming into our home and sneaking around with the news.” 

“Yes, Ma’am. We’ll do that right now.” Jake sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, Mama.” She stared at her youngest son, her face the picture of disappointment, before nodding and spinning on her heel, leaving the barn. When she was out of sight, he reached into his coat pocket to retrieve his phone.

“Ja - ”

“Stop. You’ve already made this bad enough,” he cut Shayla off while pulling up her account and looking at the newest post. She’d done a voiceover explaining that they were visiting his family to share some exciting news and had filmed herself standing behind his family. He watched as she collected eggs with his mother, when his father had taken her on a tour of the milking barn, and Ally and Will exercising one of the horses on the walker. In each clip, she had her back to them, her hand on her stomach, and winked at the camera. “Did you even ask them if they were okay with being in your video?” Jake demanded. 

Her silence spoke volumes, and he glanced at the stats. It already had over ten thousand views and hundreds of likes and comments. “I’m sure they don’t - ”

“My family is off limits,” he snapped. Without another word, he stormed out of the barn. The cold air cooled his flushed face, and he pulled off the Longhorns hat he’d found in the back of his closet to run a hand through his hair. “Fuck!” he growled, throwing the cap onto the ground in a moment of frustration. After snatching it up and dusting it off, he folded the bill, slipped it into his back pocket, and headed toward the milking barn where he’d helped Pops and Will drive the herd. After swapping his shoes for wellies, he stepped inside. 

“ - Alright, I’ll be there in a bit,” he heard his father say, frowning as he spoke into his phone. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out.” Jake glanced at Will, who raised an eyebrow. 

“Everything alright?” Will asked as soon as he hung up. Bill Senior glanced at his sons, gaze lingering on Jake momentarily before nodding.

“Need to head into town for a bit. You two able to take care of all this?” he asked, motioning to the cows. Will nodded, raising an eyebrow - their father was always supervising milking, only taking a day off when their mother forced him to stay in bed sick. With a firm nod at his sons, Bill headed out.

“Sir, can… I need to tell you something,” Jake said, hurrying after him after trading a look with his brother.

“Make it quick, son.” Standing before his father, Jake suddenly felt like he was 16 again, telling him he wanted to join the Navy instead of following the family farming tradition. 

“Sir… Pops…” Bill pressed his lips together and glanced at his watch. Taking a steeling breath, Jake straightened his shoulders. “Shayla’s pregnant. I…I’m going to be a father.” 

The older man wasn’t expecting that. His eyebrows shot up, and his mouth fell open. The two stared at one another for a long moment before Bill smiled and pulled his son in for a hug. “Congratulations, Jacob. I’m happy for you.” 

It was on the tip of Jake’s tongue to admit his fear. He was worried that he would never feel for Shay the way that Pops felt for Mama. That he would be a horrible dad. That he would screw up his kid by trying to force himself to fall in love with their mother. But instead, he simply hugged his father back, clearing his throat before saying, “Thanks.”

Julie forced herself not to turn and investigate the screeching noise, instead continuing work on her batches of buttercream frosting. Taking a deep breath, she checked the consistency. She tried not to panic at how much her oven going out was throwing off her carefully created schedule to complete the massive order for the mayor’s Christmas Eve party. 

By this time, she should have already had nine pans of macarons cooling and another two baking. The morning had started normal enough - she’d taken the day off of work but was up at 4:00AM to bring her ingredients to room temperature and get through some emails. A bride she was working with for a mid-January wedding was debating her flavor choices again. Julie hoped she didn’t need to add updating a contract to the list of tasks.

The first few hours were spent prepping and portioning out her ingredients. The mayor had asked her to make 8 heart shaped cakes (one for every year they’d been in office) as well as party favors - about 300 macarons in assorted flavors in small boxes, as well as 100 cupcakes and a cookie decorating set to keep the kids entertained. With a day and a half to get everything done, it shouldn’t have been a problem, especially with the plan of getting up early and staying up late. It was her last big order before calling it for Christmas baking. 

That was until her oven started acting up. It had taken forever to heat up yesterday, and the first cake had been undercooked and tasted sour. After checking her ingredients and confirming that everything was still fresh, she had a sinking feeling when her oven turned off.

A muttered curse followed a bang, and she turned to see Bill Seresin scowling at the back of the oven. When their eyes met, she panicked - those warm, familiar brown eyes were hesitant. Turning off the mixer, she turned to face him fully. “I’m afraid to say it, but you need a new oven.” 

“What? No! It’s… it’s just acting up, right?” Julie said, stepping closer and placing a hand on the cold stovetop. “There’s a loose connection or something. Has to be.”

“I’ve taken this thing apart, and I’m not seeing it. You can call Joey to take a peek, but from the looks of it, this thing’s ready for the scrap pile. I’m surprised it lasted this long.” 

“No, no, no, no, no.” Dropping her head into her hands, Julie felt tears prick in her eyes. She could not get an oven purchased and delivered to meet the deadline. She would have to call the mayor, apologize profusely, and refund her the total cost. And be out the cost of ingredients and a new oven.

There was a shuffling noise, and Mr. Seresin pulled her into his arms. “It’s alright, honey. We’ll get this figured out. I’ll have the boys haul this out, and we can head to the store this afternoon to get you a new one.”

Julie mentally ran through the calculations. Financially, her bank account could handle the unexpected expense. But even if they could get Jake and Will here to haul it out right away, it would be a three-hour round-trip drive to the nearest appliance store. If they had the oven she wanted in stock - a big IF - getting it back and installed would take even longer. And then there were the practicalities of breaking in a new oven - learning the hot spots, figuring out if the display temperature was the actual temperature, the timing, etc. “Even if I get a new oven, I’ll still be too far behind schedule,” she huffed, forcing herself to straighten. 

“Alright. Pack up your stuff. I’ll let Kerry know that we’re on our way.” 

“What?” 

“You need a kitchen, and we’ve got one. You get to gatherin’, and I’ll let Kerry know we’re on the way.”

“I… it’s not that simple,” Julie said, glancing around her kitchen. The idea of packing up everything and moving to another location was…And even then, she would need to figure out the nuances of the Seresin’s oven.

“Julie, you either bake at the ranch or call the mayor. What are you going to do?” 

“Jake, Will - go help your father,” Kerry said, glancing out the kitchen window to see her husband pulling into the driveway. Jake glanced up from his lunch and frowned. 

“What’s he need help with?”

“Carrying things in. Now go.” Both men pushed away from the table at their mother's brisk tone and wiped their mouths on their napkins. Shayla glanced up from her phone momentarily before scrolling her comments. Jake caught Mama’s irritated look - she hated phones at the table. After slipping their shoes back on, they descended the steps just as he pulled to a stop.

“Good. Hurry up and get this stuff inside,” he said, opening his door. 

“Need to go to the barn?” Will asked. 

“Kitchen. Put the bowls in the fridge and everything else on the counter.” The brothers shared a look and circled the truck to see the back seat stuffed with boxes and bags. 

“What the hell is this?” Jake asked. 

“Julie’s comin’ to use the kitchen. She had to run to the store to get more stuff, and I told her we’d set this up for her by the time she got here. So quit yapping and get movin’.”

“And she needs all this?” Bill and Will shared a look before shoving a box of cookie sheets into Jake’s arms. “I’m missing something.”

“Yeah, dumbass,” Will muttered. “Julie’s a baker.”

“Since when?”

“What part of quit yappin’ and get movin’ didn’t you understand, Jacob?” His father snapped, adjusting his grip on a tote containing a mixer and another with some other machine. Flushed, Jake turned and walked back into the house. His mother was already wiping down the counters.

“Put that right there. Julie’ll get everything where she wants it when she gets here.”

“Since when is Cece a baker? I thought she worked at the bank.”

“She does both,” Mama replied, peeking into the box when he set it down. When he was about to ask another question, Pops entered the kitchen and nodded.

“There’s more that needs to come in.” Dismissed, Jake went back outside and completed an additional three trips. 

“Is she moving in?” Shayla asked, smirking at the bags and boxes currently cluttering the kitchen. 

“If that’s what she needs to do, then absolutely,” Mama said, glancing at her. Flicking her hair over her shoulder, Shay stood and yawned before putting a hand on her stomach. 

“I’m gonna go take a nap. The baby’s making me tired.” She cast an expectant look at Jake, who glanced at his parents. When Shay took his hand, he let himself be led upstairs to the guest bedroom. 

“You feelin’ okay?” Jake asked while shutting the door behind him. “Other than tired, I mean.” It dawned on him that he hadn’t asked her how she was feeling with the pregnancy. 

“Ugh, I’m just ready to go home,” she replied, flinging herself onto the bed. “I miss my comfy blankets.” Pushing away the surge of irritation at her insulting his mother’s quilting, he crossed the room and sat beside her. Hesitantly, he reached out to put his hand on her still-flat stomach. It was crazy to think that in 7 months, there would be a little them. Shayla’s hand covered his, and his eyes rose to meet hers. 

“Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?”

“A girl. You?” He shrugged, thumb lightly stroking. 

“There hasn’t been a Seresin girl in a couple of generations, so the odds are it’s a boy.” 

“Well, if that’s true,” she said coyly, running her fingers along his leg and sitting up. Her nose brushed his cheek before whispering, “I guess we’ll have to keep trying until we have a little girl.” Shayla kissed him, licking into his mouth as her fingers traced his cock through his jeans. When she tried to undo the button, he stopped her. She pouted while pulling back. “Jakey!”

“Not at my parent’s house.”

“But it’s been forever!” she whined. And she was right. They hadn’t slept together since the night of the Halloween party. As determined as he was to ensure they worked things out for their kid, he found it hard to forgive her for making out with someone else. She’d assured him that it was just a drunken accident, but he was struggling to move past it. 

“Not at my parent’s house,” he repeated. Standing, he moved to the window to shut the blinds, glancing down at the driveway. He watched as Cece pulled up, and his mother walked out to greet her. As soon as the car door was closed, Mama took her hands and squeezed them. 

Cece frowned and then smiled at whatever Mama said, shaking her head. Jake recognized the concern on his mother’s face as she reached up to brush a strand of hair behind Cece’s ear before cupping her face and saying something. The younger woman nodded and allowed herself to be pulled into a hug. 

“Come lay down with me, at least,” Shayla huffed. Reluctantly, Jake closed the blinds and laid down beside his fiancee, closing his eyes and thinking about the future. 

“Julie Louise Ryan!” Pops yelled as they sat around the dining room table waiting. Ally smirked at Will before quickly sipping her water to hide it. Jake lifted a hand to cover his mouth, exchanging a look with Mama. 

“Sorry,” Cece apologized, stepping out of the kitchen. “Just needed to get the cakes in the fridge.” The only open seat was between Shayla and Pops, and she quickly dropped into it. A smile tugged at Pop’s mouth as he nodded and clasped his hands, bowing his head. Everyone followed suit.

“Heavenly Father, we thank thee for this food we are about to receive to nourish and strengthen our bodies. We thank thee for our family seated around this table and for another day on this blessed land. We ask for a special blessing for Julie as she works tonight. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.” Everyone echoed the amen. Opening his eyes, Pops reached over and covered Julie’s hand, squeezing gently before nodding at Mama. She took the platter of roast beef she’d made in the crockpot to ensure that the oven was open all afternoon for Julie and passed it to Will. 

“How’s it going?” Ally asked, reaching for the dish of cooked carrots.

“I’m still behind schedule, but the cupcakes are done, and I’ve got three more cakes to do. The cookies and macarons will be the worst,” Cece replied, handing the salad bowl to Shayla. 

“Can we help?” Mama asked.

“No, I’ll get it. I just need to figure out the system for the macrons since they’re the most temperamental. It’ll be a lot of trial and error, but I grabbed more almond flour on my way over, so at least I’ll have that.” 

“Well, you’ve got plenty of taste testers,” Will added. “I still have dreams about that bourbon bacon cake you made for my birthday.” Cece smiled and accepted the roast beef Pops handed her, spearing some onto her plate. 

“Thankfully, there’s nothing that fancy this time. Just doing gingerbread, cranberry, peppermint, and eggnog.”

“If you want, I could include you in one of my videos. Maybe get you some more attention outside of here,” Shayla offered. “I’d just want to get a couple of shots of myself helping you with something. Maybe frosting one of the cakes?” 

“Oh.” Cece glanced at Jake, who raised an eyebrow at Shayla’s unexpected offer. “That’s…that’s generous, but I’m good. I…uh… film for my own account.”

“How many followers do you have?” Shay asked as Jake’s eyebrows shot higher. Beside him, Will nudged him to pass the mashed potatoes. 

“Four hundred thousand, last I checked.” Smiling a bit more pointedly, Shayla chuckled.

“I remember when I had that many. I’m at 3 million or so. If we collab, I’d tag you so my followers could find you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Stay up with me for a 22-hour workday! Between my day job and baking - ” Jake tapped his phone screen as Cece’s video looped, pausing it as she buried her face in her hands while leaning on the kitchen counter. He’d been scrolling her page for about an hour, working backward through her content.

He was impressed and exhausted just watching her. A lot of her videos documented going from her job at the bank right into the kitchen and ending with her in the car for a delivery. It was clear why she was always busy - Cece was talented. Jake had never been interested in watching cooking videos. Still, he was glued to the screen, watching her smoothing icing, decorating, and pouring ganache into bowls. There were also a couple of brand partnership videos. 

But it was the video announcing Mr. Ryan’s death that broke his heart. Jake had watched it three times. There were clips of them working together in the kitchen, her father helping her package her treats, tasting flavors, and bandaging up her finger when she sliced it with a knife. And then Cece was alone, sitting on the floor next to the oven with her back against the cabinets as she sobbed. “My daddy always told me that I needed to start living for myself, so that’s what I’m gonna do,” she said in a voiceover while breaking a peanut butter cookie in half and popping it into her mouth. “I promised him that I’d follow my own dreams for once, so I’m putting it out into the universe that I’ll be a full-time home baker one day. Hell, maybe I’ll have my own bakery.” 

Sighing, he set the phone on his chest and ran a hand down his face. When Mama had called to let him know about Mr. Ryan, Jake had almost picked up the phone and called Cece. But after nearly seven years without talking - only exchanging ‘Happy birthday’ messages on social media - calling out of the blue seemed like a lot. Especially when she was mourning. The family had ensured he knew how Mr. Ryan was doing, and he wasn’t surprised when Cece moved back to Magnolia. As much as he loved her life in Austin, she was a daddy’s girl through and through. She never would have let him go through treatment alone.

Jake reached for his water glass and frowned at finding it empty. Shit. Knowing that Cece was still working, he debated calling it a night but was still wide awake and thirsty. Grabbing his shirt from the dresser, he crept into the hallway. Light shone from Shayla’s doorway, and he quickly darted past it to the stairs, hoping to avoid another confrontation after sending her back to the room earlier in the evening.

“Shit, god damn, motherfucker,” Cece hissed, setting another tray of macaron shells onto the countertop. Her head whipped up when she heard Jake snort, a blush creeping across her cheeks. “Don’t tell your Pops.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. He’d wash your mouth out with soap,” he chuckled, walking to the refrigerator. It was filled with wrapped-up cake layers, chilling bowls of filling, and cupcakes. Turning, he glanced at the counters covered with unbaked trays. He could see her phone set up on a tripod, recording her as she worked. “I’d ask how it’s going, but I get the feeling it’s not good.”

“Nope,” she replied, tugging the pot holder from her hand and running her fingers through her hair before turning off the camera. “I’m on my sixth tray of these and can’t get the fuckin’ oven figured out.” 

“What’s the issue?” he asked, glancing at the tray of cracked white cookies before her. 

“It’s too hot, and there’s a hot spot in one of the corners.” Picking up one of the cookies, she turned it over and glared. “It doesn’t even have even feet.”

“Feet?” 

“The shells rise a little bit when they bake.” Tossing the shell back onto the tray with a huff, she turned to the oven and lowered the temperature. Jake snagged one of the overbaked cookies and ate it.

“’Face good, dough,” he said, breathing out steam as he burned his mouth. Cece raised an eyebrow at him and smirked as he chugged half of his water. “Damn, that was hot.” 

“Overcooked and straight out of the oven. I thought you were supposed to be smart, Seresin.” 

“You know better than to put something you made in front of me and not expect me to try it,” he shot back. She rolled her eyes and walked to the sink to wash her hands, drying them on the towel thrown over her shoulder. 

“At least try something that’s not burnt,” she prompted, grabbing a plate with cake scraps. Jake cocked an eyebrow and took a piece of the brown cake, groaning at the rich gingerbread taste, making her grin. 

“Jesus, Cece, this is great.”

“Thanks. I had some extra gingerbread cupcakes, so I figured I’d decorate those for your parents as a thank you for letting me take over the kitchen today.”

“I think my parents would agree with me when I say you don’t have to do that, and you should focus on your order so you can get some sleep.” 

“I’ll sleep tomorrow after I deliver this,” she shrugged, setting the plate down and lightly running a finger over one of the uncooked macaron shells. Apparently satisfied, Cece nodded and opened the oven, peering inside. “Okay, let’s hope tray seven is a winner.” After sliding it onto the rack and setting a timer for 13 minutes, she turned to face him, glancing at her camera. “Do you mind if I… I’ll keep you out of the frame and edit you out.” 

“Yeah, sure.” She nodded and repositioned the tripod before picking up an icing bag. Jake watched as she piped wreaths onto five of the smooth, white tops of the cupcakes in individual boxes before picking up a pair of tweezers and placing sprinkles. The timer went off while she was working on the third one.

“I’ll get it,” he offered, grabbing the pot holder and quickly shutting off the alarm. Making sure the hot tray wasn’t close enough to burn her, he held it out and watched her scowl. “No?”

“Better, but still not it. Would you mind dropping the temp another 5 degrees?” Setting the tray down, he did as she asked and sat on one of the kitchen stools to watch her. Cece looked up at him through her lashes as she resumed decorating. “What?”

“Nothin’. Just… I didn’t realize that you were doin’ this.” 

“Baking?”

“As a business.” At her shrug, he sighed and motioned to the phone. “And the whole… How long have you wanted to do this?”

“I’ve always wanted to be a baker.” When he let out a huff of surprise, Cece set down the sprinkles and quickly closed the cupcake boxes, stacking them at the end of the counter. 

“You never said anything about it.”

“I didn’t think it was an option.” Jake watched her check the oven before putting another tray in. 

“Why wouldn’t it have been an option?” 

“It takes a long time to build up the skills and even longer to build a client base. If we were going to - ” She cut herself off, and Jake felt a jolt in his stomach. “I didn’t think I would have time to do it.” 

“And you do now?” 

“The internet helps. I do a lot of orders out of state, so I drive a lot. And I’ve figured out how to ship so I can get some cookies out. But yeah, I’ve had more time to focus on building my business.” Assembling five more boxes, she dropped cupcakes into them and picked up the piping bag again. “What about you? How’s life in the Navy?”

Lonely was on the tip of his tongue, but he bit it back. When he’d moved to San Diego, he’d gotten closer to the Daggers, but since Shayla had entered the picture, it felt like they’d regressed from friends to coworkers. Nights at the Hard Deck were rare, and he was unlikely to have much time to hang out with a baby. “Fine,” Jake shrugged. Pausing to twist the bag, Cece raised an eyebrow.

“Fine? After all that work and excitement to finally fly, it’s just ‘fine’?” For something to do, he grabbed the cupcake boxes and assembled them, setting them to the side. 

“I love my job. It’s just… all the other stuff.” 

“Well, you’ll have a new adventure to keep you occupied at least,” Cece said, intently peering down at the cupcakes. “With the baby and all that.”

Jake froze, the kitchen silent except for the faint crinkle of the piping bag. “You, uh…I didn’t realize that you knew.”

“If you thought that Betty, the biggest gossip in town, wasn’t going to call me as soon as she found out to ‘warn’ me” - she lifted her fingers to do air quotes - “then you’ve been gone from Magnolia for too long. Plus, your Mama told me as soon as I got here.” Forcing her gaze up, she smiled, trying to banish any trace of sadness from her expression. “I’m happy for you, Jake. You always wanted to have kids.” 

Saved by the timer going off, he pushed to his feet and walked to the oven. The flash of heat when he opened the door gave him a cover for why his cheeks were flushed. Taking the pan out, he pushed away the memories of lying in bed together and trading half-conscious hopes for the future. “How are these?”

“Not quite. Another five degrees?” He nodded, placing the pan on the stovetop and lowering the temperature before returning to his seat. “Can I do anything to help?” 

“No, it’s fine. Don’t feel like you have to stay up - I’ve got this covered.” Ignoring the dismissal, he continued to assemble the cupcake boxes, sneaking glances at her as she worked. As the pile of boxes grew, he opened the fridge to count the cupcakes she’d be making. 

“Where are the finished ones going?”

“I have a bigger box in my car that I’m going to put these in,” Cece explained, glancing at the growing pile of finished cupcakes as she placed sprinkles.

“I’ll get it.” 

The clock was edging towards 2:00AM when Cece was finally satisfied with the macarons and was ready to work on the shells. Jake started another pot of coffee after finishing the first in the two hours they’d been working. While he stacked the finished cupcakes into a large box, she measured the ingredients, tossed them into the mixer, and prepared her cookie sheets. 

“Skip,” Jake called out as Achy Breaky Heart started to play in his earbud. 

“No appreciation for the classics,” Cece muttered, a smile tugging at her mouth as she tapped her earbud twice. The opening strings of Neon Moon started, and she couldn’t help but start to sway at the counter as Kacey Musgraves covered Brooks & Dunn. Jake heard her singing softly.  “I think of two young lovers running wild and free. I close my eyes and sometimes see you in the shadows of this smoke-filled room. No telling how many tears I've sat here and cried or how many lies that I've lied, telling my poor heart he'll come back someday.” 

The song faded into the next as she hand-finished mixing the meringue to ensure consistency. They started laughing at Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off. “Damn, I haven’t heard this one in forever,” Jake chuckled. Moving closer, he tapped her phone, pausing her recording, and pulled up the playlist to scroll through the songs. It took a minute to realize that it was a recreation of one of their road trip playlists from when they would drive the seven hours from Annapolis to Myrtle Beach for Spring Break. Pink dusted her cheeks when he glanced over at her, almost as though she was remembering those long drives, singing along with one another and brimming with the anticipation of finally being alone in their hotel room. No matter how much his buddies always wanted to split the cost, Jake and Cece had made sure that they had privacy at the end of the night to lose themselves in drunken kisses and hot showers. Those five days at the beach were stolen time that they needed. 

Back then, they thought one week together was enough to sustain a relationship. 

Cece shimmied while lifting the spatula to test the consistency. Satisfied, she brought the mixing bowl to where her piping bags and tips were prepped, blowing a strand of hair from her eyes. She flicked her head to clear her sight when it fell back into place. Unwilling to strip off her gloves, she attempted to brush it away with her shoulder. “Hey, look at me.” 

“Huh?” Jake smiled and brushed the hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. Goosebumps erupted on her skin when his fingers trailed down her neck, eyes widening as they met his. He watched her cheeks flush, her breath stuttering against his wrist. “T-thanks.” 

The song ended, fading into a slower ballad. “When I first saw you, I saw love. And the first time you touched me, I felt love,” Shania sighed. “And after all this time, you're still the one I love.” 

Cece dropped her gaze and tapped her earbud, changing the song without looking at him. Jake hesitated a moment before changing it back. “Can’t skip Shania,” he said gruffly. 

Widening her eyes, Cece blinked hard as she smoothed the icing of her last cake. It was Christmas Eve and the sun had already risen over the Seresin ranch, and she could hear muffled footsteps upstairs. Cooling racks covered all available space in the kitchen, and the dining room table was covered with boxed cakes and cupcakes. Pressing the back of her hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn, she glanced over at Jake, who had his head resting on his arms as he closed his eyes after matching the 600 macaron shells for her. Thankfully, they didn’t need to make too many extras. They only required a little decoration - before baking, she’d shaped the red, green, and silver cookies like Christmas ornaments, so a little drizzle of icing and a spritz of edible glitter would be enough to make them look shiny and finished. 

“Jake,” she said softly, smiling when he grunted in response. “Go to bed - you’ll be more comfortable.” 

“’ M awake, babe,” he mumbled, sitting up. Cece felt her heart clench at the slipped term of endearment, but Jake didn’t seem to realize he’d said it, so she also chose to ignore it. Rubbing his eyes, he reached for his cold coffee and drained the mug as they heard the stairs creak. 

“Morning,” Mama Seresin said, tucking her robe closer as she entered the kitchen. “Did you two sleep at all?”

“Mornin’ Mama,” Jake said, his lip twitching when his mother leaned to kiss his cheek. She circled the counter to do the same to Cece. “‘Izz it time for chores?” 

“Not for you,” the older woman said, giving her son a fondly exasperated look. “I think it’s time for bed.”

“I’m on the final stretch,” Cece yawned. “Just need to finish these two cakes, and then I’ll do the macarons and call it.”

“You’ll finish the cakes and then go to sleep, Julie Louise.”

“Yeah, Julie Louise,” Jake echoed, his smile fading as he lifted his empty mug. Narrowing her eyes, Cece plucked a candied cranberry from the tray drying at her elbow and lobbed it at him. Reflexes dulled by fatigue, the berry hit his forehead and fell into his lap. Grinning, he popped it into his mouth. 

“Jacob.” The warning tone in his mother’s voice made him try to stifle his grin, but he was unsuccessful. Setting aside her icing smoother, Cece picked up the tray of cranberries and dropped a handful into a dish of waiting sugar, shaking it to coat them. The Seresins watched - Cece flushing at their joint attention - as she arranged the berries along the edge of the two cakes before ripping apart rosemary sprigs and placing pieces. Taking a step back, she rubbed the back of her hand on her cheek as she studied them, debating adding more berries. “They’re beautiful, Julie. I’m sure the mayor is going to love them.” 

Without a word, Jake retrieved cake boxes from the dining room and assembled one while Cece did the other, trading a tired smile. She glanced at her watch as soon as they were slid into the boxes. Still behind schedule, but the macarons should only take about three hours between the decorating, assembly, and boxing. The sugar cookies would take another two hours to roll and bake, with another hour and a half to make the decorating kits. But as she stripped off her gloves and opened her mouth to say she was okay, Mama Seresin pinned her with a look. “Bed.” 

“But - ”

“Bed. Both of you. You have plenty of time to get the rest of this done before this afternoon, and I’ve already made up the guest bed for you. Now get.” 

The stern expression left no room for debate, and neither did the hand she wrapped around Jake and Cece’s arms and guided them out of the kitchen. Jake paused at the foot of the stairs to allow her to climb before him, watching her heavy footsteps as fatigue seemed to drag her down. Without thinking, he placed a hand on the small of her back to ensure she didn’t tip backward. 

Cece’s shoulder bumped his as they walked down the hall, and he nudged her back. Her tired eyes darted to meet his, a smile tugging the corner of her mouth before she hip-checked him. His lips curved into an answering smile as they paused outside the second guest bedroom. “Thanks, Jake. I wouldn’t have gotten nearly as much done tonight if you hadn’t helped,” she said, voice rough with exhaustion. 

“It was fun. Feel like I got a masterclass in making macarons.”  

“You were a pretty great assistant. Might hire you on for the next round of Christmas baking.” 

“Not done yet. You gotta show me how to get the ganache in them, and I’ll put the boxes together.” 

“You really don’t - ”

“I’m gonna help. I feel like I’ve earned at least tasting one of the finished macarons.” Chuckling, she shook her head.

“Maybe even two.” The playfulness disappeared from her expression as she looked up at him, “I’m serious, though. Thank you.” Jake nodded, catching the fleeting moment of hesitation before Cece stepped forward and hugged him. His arms wrapped around her, hand coming up to cup the back of her head and holding her tighter. Without thinking, he pressed a kiss into her hair. Her head lifted from his chest, and he spied sugar crystals on her cheekbone. Jake brushed them away with his thumb before lifting it to his mouth to lick away the sweet taste.

Cece’s breath caught, gaze narrowing to the flash of tongue behind his parted lips. His chest brushed hers with every breath. She slowly raised her eyes to meet his. Confusion and something so familiar swirled in those green eyes. She took a step back, only half surprised when he followed to pin her between the wall and his body. Her fingers curled in his shirt, and she wasn’t sure if it was to pull him closer or shove him away. His hand rose, hesitating a moment before curving around her cheek. 

Jake’s lips were soft against hers, a tentative brush that she could have imagined if it wasn’t for the rough scratch of his stubble. Her grip on his shirt tightened as he planted a hand beside her head, boxing her in as he pressed against her. The move made her whimper, and his breath caressed her skin as he laughed before they kissed again, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips and sliding against her own. Cece dug her nails into his back, inhaling sharply when he moaned against her mouth, his hips pressing against hers. “Baby,” he panted. “I missed you.” 

The words were like a wave of cold water thrown over her, and Cece shoved him away. Jake stumbled back, catching himself on the opposite wall. “Shit,” she breathed, pressing a hand to her mouth. 

“Cece?” Jake reached for her before letting his hand drop when he realized what they’d done. 

What he’d done.

The door to his parent’s room opened, and - when he turned to meet his father’s gaze - Cece darted into the guest bedroom. “Son, everything alright?” Pops asked, frowning at his youngest.

“Y-yes, sir. Just headed to bed,” Jake replied. 

Julie leaned against the door and hung her head inside the room, blinking back tears. “Fuck,” she whispered. 

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

Read Chapter 4

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[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

@steddiemas Day 18 -  Classic Christmas Songs (The First Nöel)

pairing: steddie | word count: 1,924 | rated: G

It didn’t take too long after the song started for Eddie to want out.

He debated staying, just to listen to Steve sing along to it under his breath while he meticulously weaved strips of dough over a pie with what Eddie thinks is way too huge a mound of blueberries, but even that didn’t help.

Steve’s ‘everyone over for Christmas dinner before Christmas’ idea made Eddie skeptical at first, having literally everyone (the Hendersons, Mrs. Wheeler along with Nancy, Mike, and Holly, The Sinclairs, the Hopper-Byers clan, Gareth and Freak along with Jeff and his mom, the Buckleys (of course), and even he and Wayne) together under one roof seemed like a disaster waiting to happen.

But no.

Everyone got along great, the lot of them snacking on meats and cheeses, stolen candy and cookies that Steve had made over the last couple days, Wayne, Hop, and Claudia are fussing over two whole turkeys and a huge ham, and Joyce, Karen and Lucas are whipping up huge batches of side dishes.

And it doesn’t usually affect him this bad anymore, but that damned song paired with all of their huge chosen family together under one roof like this, warm, happy, healthy…he had to leave. 

He did not want to get emotional in front of them.

The sound of the door sliding on its track breaks Eddie’s reverie. It was longer than he thought it’d take for someone to come looking for him, but he suspects that it was done on purpose.

He doesn’t look back at who decided to grace him with their presence, but immediately knows who it is when a hat gets pushed down onto his head, just a bit too far down.

“You’re not catching a cold on my watch, Munson.”

Eddie pushes the fold of the knit cap off his eyes, “Wasn’t planning on it Steve-o.”

“Coulda fooled me. As if trying to withstand a whole winter in a leather jacket isn’t gonna give you a cold.”

A snort of a laugh escapes Eddie’s lips at Steve’s sarcastic tone. “I have, and no colds yet.”

“Uh huh. Sure.” Steve says, sitting down beside him.  “That’s why you borrowed my old puffer coat last time you were here, right?”

The lone poolside chair not packed away for the season wasn’t his first choice of seating, but it was the only one. Though Steve’s dry heat beside him is already a welcome balance to the cold metal and plastic of the chair.

Eddie’s lips twitch up into a brief smile, “I didn’t want to get mine all wet.”

They fall silent after that, and Eddie fishes his lighter and pack of Marlboro’s out of his pocket, pulling one out of the carton and lighting it up.

He offers one to Steve, but he waves him off.

“So.” Steve says after about half the cigarette was gone.

“So?”

“Are you alright, Eddie?”

He stays silent, debating whether or not to actually tell Steve what was wrong or just brush it off again.

“Was it something I–we said? Or did?” Eddie caught the slip, and decided he was going to tell him, but Steve continued on, “I know you’re not the biggest fan of Christmas anyway..”

“No, it’s not—” Eddie heaves a sigh, and even he can hear the exasperated relenting in it. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Steve. None of you did.”

He takes a drag and blows out a long stream of steamy breath and smoke. It hits him then, before he even speaks, that he’s being dramatic. Has been being dramatic. What a stupid thing to get emotional about.

“My middle name is Nöel. Like, fully, exactly how it’s supposed to be spelled for the holidays. The two dots over the O and everything. So it’s just me being dramatic; it gets annoying to hear all season.”

At first, Eddie thinks he’s gotten away with it, that Steve’s silence is just satisfied understanding, but just before he’s about to put himself back on the right way to go back inside, Steve speaks again.

“Where’d the name come from?”

Eddie finally looks over at him, taking in the comically mismatched pink My Little Pony scarf (Erica’s) and bright safety green beanie (Robin’s) he’d thrown on before coming out to the patio. “..Huh?”

Eloquent as ever, Munson.

“C’mon man.” Steve says, rolling his eyes fondly and nudging Eddie’s shoulder with his own. “You act like I don’t know you.”

Eddie’s “You don’t.” is automatic.

Steve just scoffs, “You disappeared without a word, man; normally you announce, with wildly different levels of dramatics each time, that you’re going to smoke, or you ‘gotta take a leak’. You didn’t do that this time so naturally that means this was more than just getting annoyed by a Christmas carol.”

Eddie blinks at him. Stunned by the proof that he, Eddie Munson, was one of the people Steve used his almost insane levels of observation on after all. Usually it’s wasted on the kids; Steve’s acute ability to hone in on exactly what each of the party needs at any given time—how Steve has encyclopedic knowledge on each of their favorite snacks, their preferred drinks, games, movies, which blankets they like to steal from the Harringtons’ nearly bottomless linen closet—almost always goes unappreciated. 

“I may not get a lot of things, but I do pay attention to the people I care about.” Steve continues on, voicing Eddie’s thoughts.

“You a mind reader now too, Harrington?”

Steve grins at him, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Nah man, I’m just a damn good babysitter.”

Eddie huffs out another laugh, “Sorry to tell ya this, but I don’t need to be babied or sat.”

He doesn’t say anything more, just waits for Eddie to continue.

“It was my mom.” Eddie finally concedes, “She gave me the name Nöel. So you kinda hit it on the head, there is more to it than just the song.

“Wayne says she chose it because she loved the season, that it was when she felt most at peace no matter what else was going on in her life.”

Steve is quiet beside him, just existing in the space while Eddie finishes off his cigarette.

“And that’s why I get so salty about Christmas. It’s not because she died around this time of year, which doesn’t help of course, it’s because she loved the holiday so much. I mean,” he snorts, “She named me after it after all. So this time of year always felt so wrong without her.”

He stubs the flame under his boot, scrubbing it into the concrete and promising himself he’ll come back for the butt later (he’ll forget). 

The younger man is silent for two more breaths.

“Eddie, I am so sorry..”

All he can do is shrug, “It’s fine Steve, I’m used to that song by now–well, I was.”

“What changed?”

Eddie lets out another steadying breath. “When I was little, down in Tennessee, it was worse because I was little. All the crafts and games and things they did with first and middle names in elementary school y’know?” He sees Steve nod out of the corner of his eye. “The kids down there would sing the damn song at me to make fun of me. After I came up here to live with Wayne it got better…kinda.

“The kids here didn’t know what my middle name was, and Wayne would switch the radio station if that godforsaken song would come on come December, but even then, every time it did come up…it was like a pointed little finger poked into the bruise left behind after mom died.” Eddie says, jabbing the air in front of him with his own finger in a harsh movement before letting his hand drop back down to his lap. “It was starting to get better, hearing my name like that.”

“How so?” Steve’s voice lilts into something eager, but just barely.

Eddie sucks in a deep breath and the cold, dry air burns his nose as he does.

“You.” he states, using all the breath he’d taken in on the one word. 

“Me?” Steve asks in disbelief.

“Ever since I found out that you also think November 1st means Christmas decorations need to be up.” Eddie nods, he wasn’t about to tell him about the soupy gut feeling he’d gotten when he heard Steve singing along to that stupid fuckin’ song. “Annoying, but it was the same when I was little.

“You should see the pictures,” he grins, continuing on, “A little Batman helping mom put up the tree because I didn’t want to take off my costume–even slept in it a couple times, waking up the next morning to hot chocolate, candy canes, and popcorn garlands.”

“That’s adorable.” Steve laughs, and Eddie laughs with him, his chest feeling miles looser than when he first came out here.

They’re silent for a bit, listening to the muffed yells of the kids coming from inside about who knows what.

“I’ll follow Wayne’s example,” Steve says eventually. “I’ll make sure to change the station, won’t sing it any—”

“Nah, no way man. You don’t have to do that. Like I said, it was getting better.”

“Still, I don’t want to make you upset.”

“Don’t worry about it Stevie,” he sniffs, looking over the empty pool, “I like when you sing it.” he admits before he can stop himself. 

Aw fuck.

“You do?”

 “I do.” 

What the fuck are you doing?!

“You do.” Steve states as if he doesn’t believe him.

Eddie nods silently, gulps around the nerves in his throat. “It’s stupid, but it’s like you’re singing about me rather than at me. It’s…nice.”

Steve falls quiet, so he turns to face him again; Steve’s eyes are wide, cheeks red from the cold and otherwise pale.

Shocked. And not in a good way.

“Just don’t tell any of the other jerks, ‘kay?” Eddie laughs, it comes out strained. “They’d definitely be singing it at me if they found out.”

Steve’s face thaws into something softer at that, his lips twitch like they want to smile. 

“Also, I hardly doubt Henderson’s got nearly as good a voice as you do.”

That finally melts him completely, “Henderson’s actually got some pipes on him.” he laughs softly and knocks his shoulder into Eddie’s. “You should hear his Madonna.”

“Yeah no. No thank you.” Eddie says as he stands, “C’mon Stevie, let’s go back in and eat. It’s time to eat already, right?” He offers him a hand.

Steve takes it and pulls himself up, “After you, Edward Nöel.” he does a sarcastic half-bow, waving Eddie forward.

Eddie scoffs at him, but starts toward the door nevertheless. “That’s not even what Eddie’s short for.”

“Aw, what?! What’s it short for?”

“Nuh uh, I already bared one part of my soul tonight.” (“Aw come on!”) Maybe I’ll tell you after we’ve been friends for another nine months or so.”

Steve laughs as they reach the sliding door. “Lookin’ forward to it, Eds.” 

Eddie’s about to slide it open when Steve suddenly stops him, grabbing his wrist.

“Wait–Eddie, before we go back inside, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Uh, yeah, sure. Shoot.” he turns to face him properly.

Eddie watches Steve’s eyes flicker over his face. They hover somewhere below his nose before coming back up to lock onto his eyes.

“Can I kiss you?’

“C–can you kiss– What?! Why? When—”

Steve stops Eddie's spluttering when he tilts his head back to look above them.

God. Damn. Mistletoe.

yes, my first name is noelle. why do you ask? no, no, of course i didn't give eddie that middle name just to vent about that damn song... 😳😅

other parts! Pt. 1 (Day 1) | Pt. 2 (Day 2) | Pt. 3 (Day 5) | Pt. 4 (Day 6) | Pt. 5 (Day 7) | Pt. 6 (Day 11) | Pt. 7 (Day 13) | Pt. 8 (Day 18) [YOU ARE HERE] | Pt. 9 (Day 21) | Pt. 10 (Day 25) also on AO3! this year

[yuusishi]

Hello! 👋 Merry Xmas! May I request Leona, Malleus and Jamil with an s/o who proposes to them on Christmas

Proposing to Jamil, Leona, and Malleus on Christmas!

pairings: Jamil Viper, Leona Kingscholar, Malleus Draconia x gn!reader (sep.)

genre: fluff

cws/tws: none

a/n: anon this has me giggling kicking my feet n shit, merry christmas to you too ‼️

Jamil Viper !!

Christmas is something that Jamil hasn't had the time to enjoy, the festive energy usually being covered up by the busyness of his schedule. It's almost like he hasn't celebrated the holiday at all.

He stared at the tree that you and him took the time to set up, it was the classic deep green color with multicolored ornaments. He finally felt like he could take in the festivities and relax for the first time during the holiday, and what made this better was that it was going to be spent with you.

You stood beside him, hands on your hips breathing out a happy sigh. "It's finally done!" you exclaimed, Jamil laughed as you clung to his side in happiness from setting up the beautiful tree in front of the two of you.

Suddenly you let go and stood up straight, your hands behind your back. You let out an exaggerated "ahem!" in front of Jamil who was confused but curious about what you're about to do.

A soft and bright close-eyed smile played on your face as you took a bright red box from your pocket, Jamil's eyes widening as you got down on one knee

"Jamil Viper! You who has been the source of my happiness for years since graduating NRC..."

"Will you marry me?"

Your playful tone from the start died down once you uttered those words, your voice softening as you looked at the surprised man in front of you, tears pricked Jamil's eyes but he quickly blinked them away and looked at you with furrowed brows

"Is that even a question, of course I do"

Overjoyed, you squealed as you clung onto Jamil’s side once again as he held you tightly and placed a warm kiss on the top of your head.

Leona Kingscholar !!

It was hard to drag Leona out of his bed to join the festivities during Christmas season, so you came up with an alternative! Spending Christmas in bed!

You watched the snow slowly fall from the sky from the bed as you laid on it with Leona who was peacefully sleeping behind you, an arm lazily held your waist to bring you closer to him. He helped keep you warm, you prefer being like this rather than relying on the heater. His room was dark but comforting, the moon being the only source of light.

You opened your phone and checked the time

11:57pm, December 24

A wide smile was plastered on your face as you turned over to face your boyfriend

“Hey Leona” you whispered as you poked the lion man awake, he gave a low groan before cracking open one eye to look at you, his ears perked up slightly at the sight of your face’s big smile

“Your gift is gonna take a while, it’ll be way past 12am if I give it to you any later”

Leona adjusted his position, his head rested on his arm while he looked at you tiredly, his tail betraying his exhausted face by lazily swaying in the air, showing off his curiosity.

You stood up and grabbed something out of your bag, returning to the bed with your arms hidden behind your back

“Leona?” you called, getting a hum in response from the man in front of you “Close your eyes for a bit, and don’t you dare fall asleep!”. He closed his eyes as you ordered and you pulled out the forest green box in front of him, you stared at the box for a bit while your head rested on the plush pillows before your eyes landed on Leona again

“I know you’re not a fan of sentimental things, so I’ll keep things short”

You quietly opened the box in your hands “You can look now”.

To say Leona was surprised is an understatement, his eyes were wide, ears perked up, and tail completely suspended midair, after a few moments he finally calmed down and gave you a small laugh

“I can’t even tease you for this one, herbivore, and what else can I say except ‘I do’?”

You screamed and quickly hugged the beastman in front of you, his arms found their way onto your waist and pulled you closer to pepper your face with kisses.

Malleus Draconia !!

The night air was cold on your bare skin, it pricked it in a relaxing way. There you sat down on a secluded field in Briar Valley alongside Malleus. The sky was clear and the stars were in full view, every one of them shining down on you and him. You held something bright in your hands as well, a ring that shone like the stars you were both so entranced with hidden inside a black box.

A small chuckle erupted from Malleus and you looked over at him confused

“This reminds me of our first meeting, it almost feels as though the stars we stare at now were the same ones from all those years ago”

You laughed along with him as you both reminisced about events from years before, it feels like those years passed by in a blink of an eye, now you’re here proposing to your boyfriend, remembering the times you screamed to your friends about your not-so-subtle crush on him.

You both settled into a comfortable silence, glancing at your phone and seeing the time.

Only less than 5 minutes until 12:00am, December 25th.

You sighed in an attempt to relax yourself before quietly grabbing the box from your pocket, Malleus noticed this and asked you what the object was.

You slowly turned to face him before opening the box to reveal the ring, Malleus looked at the box then you with his mouth slightly agape, emerald green irises stared at you in surprise.

He quickly enveloped you in a hug, his head rested on your shoulder, you felt the large smile on his face which caused you to smile as well

“You have given me the best Christmas gift anyone could ever give me, dear” he said, voice barely above a whisper but you heard it loud and clear “It may be quite obvious now but my answer is ‘I do’”, you clutched onto him as you both landed on the fresh grass below you in a fit of laughter “I already know”.

The night was filled with soft ‘I love you’s and small chuckles, both of you unable to keep still like two children when announcing the engagement to Lilia, Sebek, and Silver, all three of them ecstatic and offering plans for the wedding.

[blues824]

hi! i saw your requests are open and really wanted to ask if you could do the twst wonderland dormleaders with a fem!yuu s/o who is the daughter of santa? (i don’t even think they have santa in twst but whatever) like everywhere she goes the scent of peppermint follows and she’s very old man jolly like, oh and she also has the endless santa bag, the dormleaders can wish for pretty much anything and she’ll just pull it out of her bag, it’d be such a cool party trick and OH when it’s the christmas season you bet her personality just gets ten times brighter and expressive with how much she loves christmas because even if she’s away from home and in another world, christmas is just such a huge comfort that she can’t help but feel at peace

I’m only about 20 days late on this, but I hope you enjoy it!

Female Reader

Riddle Rosehearts

Your positive disposition rubbed off on Riddle a lot, and all of Heartslabyul is grateful to you for that. He is a bit more merciful towards his ‘subjects’, and even more so when you’re around. When the members of the dorm see you, they feel like they can let out the huff of breath they were holding in.

Everyone has their theories as to why this is. The majority thinks it’s because you smell like peppermint, and it’s a scent used to refresh your mind and soul. This theory was proven to be somewhat true since Riddle loved to just be wrapped in your arms. He wasn’t creepy with it or anything, but it was a smell that was discovered rather than announced.

When he experienced the magic of your bag, someone said they needed a pencil for class. You opened your sack (which was the size of a backpack) and got out a pencil along with a sharpener. Another asked for paper to get some notes and you whipped out a fresh pack of college-ruled lined paper.

He has a love-hate relationship with the holidays. It mainly had to do with memories of his mother getting him even tougher textbooks rather than something he actually wanted. However, he had to admit that you added a refreshing aspect. To him, you looked adorable when you saw that Heartslabyul was decorated for Christmas.

You tell him that you were glad you were able to spend this Christmas with the one you loved the most, and Riddle choked on the tart he was eating. You just told him that you loved him… you giggle at his flustered expression and place a kiss on his cheek

Leona Kingscholar

There ain’t no way anyone is that happy on a Monday morning. He is most definitely suspicious of you at first. When he sees that your joy never falters, he eventually gets used to it. He does find it a bit excessive at times, but he understands that it’s just part of you.

He would never admit it, but he loves being around you. Your scent is like a drug to him. He becomes addicted. Whenever you aren’t busy, you are wrapped up (get it?) in his arms as you both cuddle in his bed. You don’t really have a choice.

He experienced the magic of your bag when he was complaining about how cold he was. His real intention was to make you cuddle him, but imagine his surprise and annoyance when you pulled out a heated blanket out of your bag. Were you really gonna make him admit that he needed cuddles??

He doesn’t exactly mind the holidays. He just thinks they’re unnecessary stress added to everyone’s life for the sole reason of boosting the economy. However, he can’t say that you don’t look absolutely adorable when he sees you smiling at the decorations put up around Savanaclaw.

As you both were cuddling on one of the couches in the lounging area of the dorm, you lean up so that your mouth is near his ear. You whispered that you loved him so much and his tail wrapped around your waist in response, telling you that he loved you too.

Azul Ashengrotto

He probably thinks you’re faking your happiness at first, but that was only for the first couple of days. When you voiced your optimism about making new friends, it reminded him of a child being excited to go to another school. Now that he knew your intentions were pure, he grew attached.

He could always tell when you were nearby because you had a heavenly peppermint scent that drew him to you. He will pull you into his office so that you two can privately cuddle on one of the couches in there. He wants you to himself most of the time, so prepare to spend a lot of your free time in the arms of the cecaelia.

He experienced the magic of your bag when he was sweating from being stressed out about Floyd not working. You whipped out a handkerchief and gently dabbed at his forehead as you told him how good of a job he was doing, and he was soaking it all up like the sea sponges you see in the ocean.

I believe he gets excited for the holidays. Not only does it give him a break from school and from running the Lounge, but it gives him more time to actually enjoy NRC. He loves the look of pure joy in your eyes when you see Octavinelle all lit up for Christmas. Floyd and Jade take it as the best time to lower some mistletoe over the two of you, and Azul made the excuse of ‘we can’t break tradition’.

As you both were walking back to his dorm (arm in arm) after you both locked up the Mostro Lounge, you told him how you were happy to celebrate Christmas with the people you cherished the most, especially him. You always managed to make him fall for you even more each day, and he swears he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Kalim Al-Asim

He’s about as happy as you. You both are the happiest people that Night Raven College has ever met to date. You both continuously build off of each other’s energy, and Jamil has a hard time keeping you both under control.

He absolutely loved your smell. That sounds kind of weird, but he did love your smell. It’s like when a guy loves the scent of their significant other’s cologne or perfume. Kalim loved to hug you because your scent brought a sense of familiarity to him.

He experienced the magic of your bag when he tried to cook. It ended up with the stove catching fire and you whipping out a fire extinguisher to extinguish the aforementioned fire. He was amazed that you handled it in such a calm manner. 

He gets super excited when the holiday season comes around. He is most definitely going to throw a grand party. I believe that the both of you are absolute party animals who know how to host one as well. There is eggnog served (may or may not have rum in it to liven up the party), along with straight rum for the students who don’t have to worry about illegal drinking.

Once the party is over and you are helping with the cleanup process, Kalim asks why you were so happy around the holidays. He already knows about your father and mother, but he asks you why. You respond that you were surrounded by the ones you love, and that always made you happy. You gave him a short kiss on the lips to prove your point, and he gave you a big hug in return.

Vil Schoenheit

Being happy tends to be healthier for you, so he tries to see the positive side. After all, he wants to be the pristine image of good health. He does ask you for tips, but you don’t really know why you’re so joyful all the time. 

He also likes your smell. He notices that it’s something you discover rather than have it announced to you, and it reminds him of the essential oils he uses a lot so that he can relax. He will press a kiss on the back of your hand, and he is delighted to smell peppermint in the air near you.

He experienced the magic of your bag when he was ‘complaining’ about running out of his favorite skincare brand. You just whipped it out of your bag and gave it to him. He was surprised because he didn’t know your bag could do that.

He gets excited about the deals and sales that the holidays have to offer, but he hates the stress aspect to it all. However, with you by his side, he believes he can get through the whole ordeal of throwing a party easier. He doesn’t want to let his beloved down, after all.

You are seated next to him on the side of his throne. While you both are sitting and overlooking the party, he leans over and asks why you are even happier during the festive season. You explain that you get to spend your favorite holiday with the Fairest in the Land. He thanks you for the flattery, and he can’t help the warm feeling that flutters through his heart.

Idia Shroud

Every single day without fail, he questions how you both got together. You are very outgoing and extroverted, while he is your polar opposite. However, he doesn’t doubt your love for him. You are your happiest when you are together, and you always seem so excited to see him.

He finds your scent relaxing, but in a way most others don’t. When you both cuddle in his bed, he will bury his face in the crook of your neck just so he can inhale your smell. It relieves the anxiety that he felt from the whole day, and he always finds himself drifting to sleep.

He experienced the magic of your bag when you saw that he seemed super stressed about something. You reached into your bag and got a stress ball and gave it to him while placing a soft kiss on his forehead. You had him lean his head against you as you pet him and told him how proud you were of him. He was blushing, but he absolutely melted.

He absolutely likes the holidays exclusively for the sales on his favorite online shops. He invites you to Ignihyde for a small celebration between you, him, and Ortho. He was relieved to see that you seemed happy about this arrangement.

Once Ortho returns to his charging station, Idia and you are left by yourselves. You both decide to go to his room and cuddle and fall asleep in each other’s arms. You thank him for making this the best Christmas you have ever had so far. He blushed and hid his face in your chest so you wouldn’t see how flustered you made him.

Malleus Draconia

This man is so down bad for you and neither of you know the full extent of love he has in his heart just for you. But that’s okay! You are as in love with him as he is with you, and anyone can see it just by looking at how you gaze at each other.

He enjoys the familiarity in your scent, and often can detect you from a great distance away. That being said, there really is no point in trying to sneak up on him. If you do try, he will act surprised just to make you feel better.

He kind of knew that your bag was magical, but never really knew what it was. However, you shipped out a whole freaking meal when Lilia burned down the kitchen when he tried to cook. You were the holiday miracle for Diasomnia, and Malleus has to admit that this food was better than the food his chefs made back home.

I feel like he enjoys the holidays for the social aspect just like you do. He hosts a dormitory celebration and invites you to attend. Upon your arrival, he gives you a kiss on the lips as a greeting. Sebek nearly bursts a blood vessel, but barely manages to keep it together.

When he sits on his throne in the lounge, he has you sit on his lap. Another throne has not been designed for you yet, so this was the next best thing to signify that you were his ‘co-ruler’ and beloved. You softly whisper that you love him and that you’re happy to spend this time with him, and he places the gentlest of kisses on your cheek in return.

[visforvengeance]

un jour c'est toi que je partirai

Notes: Howdy! ok so this is a filler chapter. this was originally gonna be chapter 3 buuuut the way I started it wasn't matching how I wanted the chapter to end. so pls forgive me lmao. I wanted to get something out to you guys bc I know it's been a while since the last chapter. I still don't know if i want this series to end before the next season comes out or not but I'm def gonna keep writing itttt

Warnings: cursing? she/her pronouns. mentions of suicide, idk if this should be a tw but description of a panic attack, carmy is a perv in this lowkey. masturbation. when I said philip, i was totes talking about lip gallagher. not too much happens in this. please let me know if I missed anything and thanks for reading <3.

masterpost

“Mikey killed himself.”

He couldn’t do it. Where are you, Carmen? His brother’s funeral was today. You’re supposed to be here. He’s sorry, but he can’t. What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck? He still couldn’t believe it. Fuck, his chest was starting to hurt. He was getting sweaty, his hearing began to fade in and out, and he couldn’t breathe. He can’t fucking breathe. He can’t stop the tears or the sob that tore through him. It echoed throughout his apartment. Fuck this shit. 

He stood in disbelief as he looked upon the one restaurant that could have him shitting bricks. It looked old. And, familiar. And, not his, but absolutely fucking his now. Shit, he couldn’t fucking believe it. This fucking restaurant that haunted his dreams, that he spent his whole life chasing was officially his. He hurried to unlock the door and get inside. He hadn’t told anyone that he was back in Chicago. He wanted to embrace it on his own for a second. It still smelled the same, like Mikey and cigarettes, grease, bleach, and Mikey. 

He looked at the picture frames, news clippings, and awards scattered across the wall. He was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed. He hadn’t set foot inside this place in two years, and now his brother is dead and he’s standing in his restaurant. 

He heard the bell ring and turned to see his big sister, “Carmy?” God, did he miss her. He missed them all, he really did. Even insufferable Richie and fucking Fak. And, Y/N. He hadn’t let go of the last conversation they shared. His one shot at true love and he’d gone and fucked it all. Whatever.

He walked over to Natalie, embracing her dearly. “Hi, sis.” He smirked at her as she gasped and swatted his chest. “Why didn’t you tell me you were here? I would’ve gotten you from the airport,” she said with a frown. He shook his head as he waved her off. He smiled up at her, genuinely smiling. “I wanted to surprise you.” “Consider me surprised. So, had a chance to take a look around yet?” He sighed and shook his head. “James told me the store’s not really in good standing?” Natalie let out an exasperated sigh. “Fuck no. I don’t know what the hell Mikey has gotten himself into, Bear.” 

“You, uh, you know where he keeps the records and shit like that?” Natalie shook her head as she took a seat in one of the booths, “you’d have better luck asking Richie.” Ugh. Carmen loathed Richie. But, he tolerated him because he was family and Mikey’s best friend. “Have you seen him around lately?” “Yeah, I told him to meet me here so we could get a headstart on figuring out all of this shit.” Carmen sat in the seat across from Nat, “good. I bet he’ll have some idea.” Natalie nodded slowly as she thinned out her lips. “So,” she says as she clasps her hands together in front of her, “does Y/N know you’re here?” Fuck. She doesn’t know.

Honestly, he didn’t know if he should even tell her. Would she come to see him? Did he have a chance? He hadn’t seen or heard anything about her since Christmas dinner. “No, I haven’t spoken to her since Christmas.” He paused before speaking. “You know she told me she loved me that night?” Natalie had some idea of what was going on between them. Carmen, being the moody little brother he is, kept her out of his business as much as possible. And, Y/N tried to spare her the details for fear of grossing her out. 

“And, what did you say?” “That I loved her too.” For the first time, he was honest. So honest that it scared him. When he thinks back on that night, it almost makes him want to vomit. She felt bad for her brother, this need for Y/N but being unable to do anything about it was eating him up inside and anyone could tell that he wasn’t alright. Pair that with grief and an existential crisis, she didn’t know how he was managing. “How is she?” He knows Mikey’s death couldn’t have been easy for her either. “She’s..coping as best as she can.” He’d love nothing more than to be with her in moments like these, ones that you know you shouldn’t be going through alone. 

“She seeing anyone?” Carmen couldn’t help himself as he asked. Natalie hesitated before answering and that filled Carmen with such dread. “Um, some guy that she went to college with. I think his name is Philip?” He flinched like he was about to be hit. Now, he knows more than he’d like. “Are they like dating? Boyfriend and girlfriend?” Carmen wasn’t trying to pry information out of Natalie for his own personal gain, no way. He was simply inquiring about a friend. 

“Why are you asking?” Natalie was suspicious of the younger boy. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say he was planning to shoot his shot with Y/N (eventually). It’s about damn time. He shrugged, “Just curious.” She nodded, not believing a word he said. “As far as I know, they’re not too serious but definitely more than friends.” He could only imagine what that meant. Were they already having sex? That was not his business. He needs to get a grip on reality. He nodded and began to stand, just as he was doing so, Richie rushed inside. They hugged and began their bickering immediately after. Natalie just chuckled and walked away. 

Carmen was tired. So fucking tired. It hadn’t even been a full day and he’d endured so much bullshit. The ripping and running and trying to find a decent crew wore him out. He didn’t make it to his bed when he got to his apartment. Instead, he plopped down his couch. After a while, his mind drifted to her. He missed her. Fuck, when didn’t he? He found himself thinking about her constantly. What was she doing today? What did she eat? He was sure it wasn’t nearly as good as what he could make for her. She loved when he cooked for her, so he always did. Never did he allow her to even touch a cooking utensil. He never complained about it either. He loved it just as much. Maybe even more. 

Then, he began thinking about her warmth. He missed it so much that he craved it. It had been too long since he last felt her. Or smelled her scent. He wondered if her lips still felt or tasted the same. Was her skin still as soft as he remembered? Why the fuck is he doing this to himself? It was too late as he felt himself straining against his pants. 

He tried to ignore the lust that was creeping into his head. But, he couldn’t stop himself and he was getting harder the more he thought about her. She made him behave like a fucking pervert. He couldn’t take it anymore. He unbuttoned his pants and slid his hand inside his boxers. Pulling his cock out of his pants, he squeezed the base of it. This was fucking humiliating but it felt too good. He felt bad for thinking about her while doing this. But, he was doing it anyway.  He thought about her face as she was being pleasured, the sounds she’d make. He imagined it was him who made her cum. Just as she was beginning to reach climax, he was cumming all over his hand. He always came the hardest when he thought about her. The deep embarrassment was almost enough to make him never think about her like that, though. Almost. He cursed himself as he wiped his hand on his khakis. It was getting late and he figured he should get ready for bed. She never left his thoughts as he (finally) drifted to dreamland.

[palepinkgoat]

tag game Wednesday Thursday!

thank you for tags and mentions @gallawitchxx @thepupperino @wehangout @blue-disco-lights @gardenerian @deedala @energievie and @jrooc !!! I love you all so much.

how did you get into the fandom? Girl, let's get in a Time Machine to 2013.

I had just had a massive injury that left me unable to walk or leave my bed for months. In this time, I was watching YouTube a lot. YouTube knows me well, so one night said "oh, this is gay, you will like it." The clip was the van kiss. Like, the first kiss. It piqued my interest and soon I'm in a YouTube wormhole. Season 3 had finished so there were some newer uploads. I loving the morning scenes with the Gallaghers too, and once I kind of pieced it all together I went on amazon and bought the first 3 season digitally. There I was, obsessed and bed bound. After a little googling I found Tumblr around Christmas, and lurked until season 4 started. Then I started poking my head out a bit and reblogged some stuff. But I wasn't really fully "in" until I started writing fics in 2014. Then I got more active and after writing a series called Four Eight, more people learned who I was (via a post by a super "popular" and now deactivated Tumblr account). Then I was in. sidenote: Eventually I did physical therapy around the time the club kiss aired (being there for that in real time?? Guys, I'm still screaming) and I'd watch that over and over as I iced my weak leg and took half a prescribed Percocet. The club kiss was better than the Percocet.

how long have you been here? So technically I guess I've had Tumblr 10 years. In December it will be 11. HOWEVER I was not active for several years in between like season 7ish until after the series ended, so I guess I should subtract. But that gets too be too much math.

what’s the first fandom channel you found? (Youtube, Reddit, Tumblr, Insta, Twitter, FB, other?) Youtube at first since that's how I found them. I was also really into watch fan video edits and watched them OBSESSIVELY.

what’s your favourite now? For fandom, Tumblr! Nothing quite like it. I'm glad to be back.

which mutual have you known the longest in the fandom? Oh my gosh. @captainjowl, @wehangout and @the-rat-wins are the ones who come to mind but I'm sorry if I'm overlooking some. So many people left!

which tumblerino’s did you have your first fandom crush(es) on and wanted to get to know? I remember really loving @captainjowl and being so glad when we got to be friends. Then because I almost have a Tumblr Season 2 life, I was really impressed by @heymacy and she just JUMPED off the screen. I wanted to be friends so I sent a message about chapell roan and now we talk ALL THE TIME. I've met so many newer to me people and I am so glad I know so many cool people.

first Gallavich fan fic you read (or that blew you away that you remember) I wish I remembered the first fic I read!! Sexual Harassment in the Workplace was posted around the time I started writing fic and of course that's amazing. I know works by anythingbutgrief were some of the first too. Beautiful.

first fan art that blew your mind? @steorie blows my mind every time. That's the first person I remember just losing it over. But there are so many incredible artists!!

fanfic trope that you were sure wasn’t for you but now you low key (or high key) love? a/b/o! But I mostly was like "what the fuck is this about?" And then got on board pretty fast.

What surprised you most about this fandom? the level of talent is absolutely wild.

moment in the show (or YT vids if you’re one of those) that you fell in hyperfixation with Gallavich? the first one was probably s3 "not everybody gets to blurt out how they fucking feel every minute!" because i was like, OHHH OH THIS IS GONNA HURT ME & then it just kept getting worse.... @gallawitchxx just said it best BUT! I have a tattoo that says "sorry I'm late" so I guess you could say I'm into that one too.

Ian or Mickey? Ian is my baby, my friend. my familiar. I adore them both and it's hard to choose, but I loved him right away and never quit.

Which Gallagher or Milkovich are you? I'm honestly a lot like Ian. But maybe if I swung Milkovich I'd be Sandy.

[heart-of-gold-outlaw]

Happy Holidays, You Idiot (Soap x Ghost)

By the fucking grace of God, the 141 gets leave for the holidays. Soap almost feels like kissing someone. It's been too long since he's been home, and even longer since he's seen his family. He's looking forward to it—can't wait, really—but then he hears that Ghost will be spending Christmas alone and, well... that just won't do. One thing leads to another, and that's how Soap winds up back home, masked L.T. in tow, ready to brave the season... and pretend he doesn't have a massive crush on his superior officer.

Too bad Soap's family can see right through him. Hopefully Ghost is a little more oblivious.

AO3

It's a goddamn Christmas miracle. It has to be. Lately, leave's been few and far between for the rest of the base, let alone the 141, and Soap had already prepared himself for the inevitable "no, I won't be able to make it home for the holidays" conversation he'd need to have with his mother. She always understands, eventually, even though Soap knows it kills her to not have her youngest home for Christmas. Still, she usually tells him not to get himself into too much trouble, and Soap pretends he doesn't hear the worry in her voice. 

"I know ye can handle yourself, dear," she'd told him one Easter, "but please tell me ye've got someone to look after ye."

"Aye, Ma, I do," he'd reassured her. "We all take care o' each other." Then, before he could stop himself: "And nobody's takin' me down while Ghost's still breathin'."

"Ghost?" Soap had winced at the curiosity in her voice. "Is he the one with the mask in that picture ye sent us?"

"Aye, that'd be him."

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, he's a right terror!"

Soap had laughed, told her she didn't know the half of it, and that had been enough to get her to stop worrying for the time being. He hadn't made it home for Christmas that year, either, but his mother seemed a little more okay with it since she knew he was in good hands.

Now, though, Soap can hardly believe it as Price announces they can all go home for a few weeks. There's a barely hidden smile on the Captain's face as Gaz lets out an excited whoop and immediately dashes towards his room to start packing. Soap tries not to immediately follow suit. He's excited, sure, but he knows that if he starts getting ready now, he'll finish too early and have nothing to do until the plane takes off. The anticipation would just about kill him.

His eyes flick to Ghost, who takes the news as silently as he takes everything else. Briefly, Soap thinks he sees a flash of something behind the mask, but it's gone before he can think too much about it. He frowns. Ghost never takes leave, never talks about it. As far as Soap knows, he stays on base if he can, doesn't tell anybody where he goes if he can't. Regardless, Soap's pretty sure Ghost is alone no matter the occasion.

The thought of his lieutenant spending the holidays by himself makes Soap's heart twist. When Price leaves to start making preparations of his own, Soap jogs to catch up to Ghost, who's already halfway out of the room. Ghost glances down at him, eyebrow raised, but doesn't say anything that would suggest Soap should clear out.

"So," Soap says as casually as he can. "We get t' go home for the holidays. Bit of a surprise, eh l.t?" 

Ghost lifts one shoulder in half of a shrug. "Bound to happen eventually."

"My ma's gonna be thrilled. Da, too." Soap smiles, already looking forward to seeing them both. "And I s'pose I should tell my brothers as well. Bastards."

At this, Ghost finally looks at him. "You have brothers?"

"Aye." Soap rolls his eyes. "Two of them. They just about skinned me alive when I enlisted, said if they wound up burying me, they'd dig me up just to kill me again." He snorts at the memory. "I'm the youngest, so I guess it's their job to give me hell."

Ghost huffs at that, something halfway between a laugh and a scoff, and Soap grins. 

"What about you?" Soap can feel his curiosity threatening to drown him. "What are ye gonna do with all this free time, eh?"

For a moment, Ghost doesn't answer. If Soap wasn't watching him, he would have missed the way his eyes widened ever so slightly behind the mask, the way his shoulders tensed like he's ready for a fight. It must be a sore subject, and Soap feels his smile dim a bit. 

"Ye don't have to tell me," he starts, but Ghost is already shaking his head.

"Thought I might stay here," he says, like it's normal and obvious and decidedly not the saddest thing Soap's heard all day. Brown eyes glance over at him, and Ghost must see something on his face, because he shrugs again and continues: "Holidays don't do much for me."

Soap gapes at him. "But it's Christmas."

"It's December 10th, Johnny."

"Ach, ye ken what I mean." Soap rolls his eyes, recognizing the diversion for what it is. "So... what? Ye'll spend the whole time on base?"

Ghost hums. He sounds entirely unbothered by the whole situation. "Something like that."

He's clearly trying to get Soap to drop the subject, and indeed, there isn't much to go on. But Soap's not so easily deterred. The holidays are a big deal in his family—especially Christmas—and he can't imagine anyone wanting to spend them alone. 

That's when the idea hits him: the wonderful, beautiful, absolutely idiotic idea that's sure to get him in more trouble than he's worth.

"Well now," he says, his smile returning with a vengeance. "I can't have ye spendin' Christmas by yerself, Ghost."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Soap knows he's in for it. He doesn't regret them, not in the slightest, but it's far too late to take them back.

Ghost eyes him suspiciously. "What's that s'posed to mean?"

"It means," Soap isn't sure why his heart suddenly beats a little faster in his chest, but he skillfully keeps it from showing, "that yer comin' with me."

It's definitely not protocol to give a command to his superior officer. And it shows. Ghost stops walking so abruptly that his boots almost squeak on the floor, and he slowly cranes his head to the side until he's staring down at Soap. For a moment, Soap's not sure he's going to survive long enough to make it home for the holidays, and he starts going through a mental catalogue of people he wants at his funeral.

Great. Wonder what cemetery my brothers'll have to dig me out of.

Ghost keeps staring at him, face carefully neutral. Neither one of them so much as breathes.

"What?" Ghost eventually asks, breaking the silence. His voice sounds like he's swallowed a bag of rocks.

It's even harder than usual for him to focus, what with Ghost's eyes, still smudged with greasepaint, looking at him so intently. But Soap holds his ground. He can already feel the corners of his lips twitching with another mischievous smile.

"I said," he continues, rolling his shoulders back, "yer comin' with me. To Glasgow. For Christmas."

Ghost shakes his head. "No."

"Yes."

"Johnny..." A warning.

Soap chuckles and punches Ghost lightly on the arm, pretending that his skin doesn't light up at the contact. "Aw, c'mon l.t," he whines. "It'll be fun! Da always makes too much food anyways, an' I can show ye around the city." 

"I don't—" Ghost rubs the back of his neck and looks away. "I don't do holidays, Johnny."

"That's because ye've never spent them with my family." Soap practically bounces on his feet as Ghost starts walking again. "Ye can still wear the mask, if that's what yer worried about."

Ghost huffs out a sigh. "That's not—I'm not worried about anything, Sergeant. I just don't think it's a good idea."

"It's a great idea!" Soap knows he's practically begging at this point, but he can't bring himself to care. Nobody deserves to spend Christmas alone. Not even Ghost. "An' if ye won't come with me, then I'll stay here... but yer gonna have to explain to m' Ma why she won't be seein' her babe."

It's a low blow for sure, but if Soap's learned one thing in the 141, it's that in order to win, you have to fight dirty. He sees the exact moment it works, watches as Ghost glowers at him like he's ten seconds away from ripping Soap's head off with his bare hands. Soap just beams at him. 

"Fine," Ghost grinds out through his teeth.

He sounds irritated, but there's a hint of softness in his eyes that Soap's learned is mostly reserved for him. His heart does a flip, but he forces it back down before it can beat out of his chest.

"Knew ye'd warm up to me, l.t," he says, patting Ghost on the arm again before turning around. The entire time, he'd been walking in the opposite direction of his room. "Just ye wait: we're gonna have a blast!"

/ / /

The full gravity of what he's done doesn't hit Soap until later that evening. He's in the mess hall when it happens, listening to Gaz rattle on about what to get his little sister for Christmas. Admittedly, Soap isn't really paying attention. His mind keeps wandering back to Ghost. The man was really prepared to spend the holidays alone. Worse than that, he was prepared to spend them on base. Soap knows Ghost is a private man, probably doesn't get out much even when he does go home. It sounds like a lonely life. Not that that's too unusual—in their line of work, it's all part of the gig. 

Still, it doesn't sit right. Soap has to wonder what happened in Ghost's past that turned him into who he is today. 

"—oap. Soap. Are you even listening?"

Gaz's voice brings Soap back to reality. He blinks, disoriented, and then smiles apologetically. 

"Sorry Gaz," he says. "I was thinkin' about something else."

Rolling his eyes, Gaz reaches for his cup of water. There's a barely-noticeable smirk on his lips as he takes a sip. "Those thoughts have anything to do with a certain masked l.t?"

Soap groans, head tilting back to hit the wall with a dull thunk. "How'd ye know?"

"It's not that hard to guess."

Sighing, Soap leans forward and absently mixes the mashed potatoes on his tray. He hopes Gaz is the only one who can read him so well.

"Can I ask you a direct question?" Gaz says after maybe three seconds of silence.

Soap shrugs and shoves a forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. "Shoot."

"Are you two fucking?"

He inhales the potatoes instead of swallowing them, and nearly hacks up a lung trying to get them out. Gaz watches him instead of helping. There's a knowing look in his eyes that makes Soap's face flush.

"Gaz, what the fuck?" He chokes. 

To his credit, Gaz doesn't waver, just keeps looking at Soap with that same steady smirk. "Well?"

"No!" Soap vehemently shakes his head. "I'm not—he's not... I don't even think he... Gaz!"

Gaz laughs and slides Soap's tray away from him. "Calm down, MacTavish, it was just a question."

"Pretty personal one."

Without his food to mess with, Soap bounces his leg up and down underneath the table. Gaz gives him a shit-eating grin, tips his fingers in a mock salute, and downs the rest of his water. 

"For the record," he says, ignoring Soap as he glares at him, "I think you two would be cute together. I mean, you're obviously head over heels for the guy—"

"I am not."

Gaz quirks an eyebrow. "Really?" He lowers the glass of water to give Soap a look. "Then why'd you ask him to spend Christmas with you?"

Soap's eyes widen. "How did ye—"

"Price."

It takes a moment for the name to register, and then Soap drops his head into his hands. Great. Ghost must've complained to their Captain, and now word's going to go around the whole base. Price may be good at keeping classified information a secret, but he's terrible when it comes to gossip.

"He was going to spend Christmas alone, Gaz," Soap finally says. "Christmas. What was I s'posed to do?"

When he finally brings himself to look up, Gaz is laughing at him.

"John MacTavish," he says as he slowly shakes his head. "You are so fucked."

//

Hey hi I don't even go here, but have chapter one of a SoapGhost Christmas fic

[random-thot-generator]

Where the Love Light Gleams

A 'LOVE THY FRENEMY' HOLIDAY ONE-SHOT

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x FRENEMY FEM READER

-

Summary: Simon comes home for Christmas.

Warnings/Tags: Angst, Comfort, Fluff, So. Much. Fluff., No use of Y/N

(Notes: Wrote this for @glitterypirateduck and her Christmas fic challenge. Merry Christmas, Ducky. Love you, my enabler! (((hugs)))

My inspiration was the song 'I'll Be Home for Christmas'. Thought it would be perfect for Ghost, since he has such a tragic association with Christmas Eve. Decided to give my favorite masked man a happy Christmas for a change. Oh, and there's a little musical accompaniment for the last scene in the fic. It's linked. It's how I imagined Fiona and Ned would sound when singing the song. Hope you all enjoy and happy holidays. May your love light always gleam.)

Word Count: 4.2K

[image via TENOR] [Skull Divider] [Mistletoe Divider] [Banners]

I'll be home for Christmas You can plan on me Please have snow and mistletoe And presents under the tree

Christmas Eve will find me Where the love light gleams I'll be home for Christmas If only in my dreams

— Kim Gannon and Walter Kent, 'I'll Be Home for Christmas'

-

Simon doesn't 'do' Christmas.

He's not told you why he doesn't celebrate the holiday, but it's something deep-rooted and painful, something he avoids speaking about or even acknowledging. You don't push; that's not the way to get Si to talk. You accept it as is and wait for it to come out in its own way, in its own time.

When you mention decorating for the holidays, he offers no comment. He usually likes to tease you about such things, seems to find it amusing how much you love decorating for each season and holiday, but Christmas is different. It pulls a dark shroud around him that leaves him brooding and quiet.

He doesn't gripe like he would when retrieving your boxed decorations from the attic, never utters a complaint when you ask him to help get the tree in its stand. Yet he doesn't linger once you begin to decorate it, instead taking himself off to the pub, returning hours later reeking of scotch.

When he announces a few days later that he's most likely going to be deployed over Christmas, you're not surprised; disappointed, yes, but not surprised. You don't ask if he volunteered for the assignment; you don't want to know.

"Sorry, doll," he mutters after giving you the news, then he takes himself off to his office and closes the door. You'd be more upset about it, but his apology is sincere, that invisible shroud hanging heavy on his shoulders and bowing his head.

When you follow him to the door a few days later to say your goodbyes, you hug him tight and whisper, "Going to miss you, Grumpy. I'll check in, alright? So, don't worry about me. Just... stay safe. Come home."

He clutches you to him, a ragged breath gusting past your ear. "Gonna miss you, too, doll."

You pull back and give him that crooked smile that makes his chest constrict. You watch him hitch up the duffel on his shoulder, adjust the mask on his face, then he nods to you and steps out the door. He gets about halfway down the walk before you call after him. He pauses, looks back.

"All my X's and O's, Grumpy."

He grunts, even though he feels like he's choking, his voice strained as he replies by rote, "Damn right, they're all mine."

You snort a laugh and shake your head.

He takes another moment to look at you, taking in the little smile on your face, leaning in his doorway, your arms crossed over your chest. You're dressed in one of his old hoodies and leggings, a pair of those ugly fuzzy socks on your feet, Christmas themed, of course. He burns the image into his brain before he turns and trudges through the gate, climbing into his truck and driving away without another backwards glance.

-

Simon spends two weeks on assignment but returns to base in plenty of time to go home for Christmas.

But he doesn't.

Simon surprises Price when he asks to be put on the duty roster over the holidays, the captain knowing that this would have been your first Christmas together as a couple, but he wisely refrains from commenting or asking questions. John knows why Simon doesn't celebrate Christmas; he had just been hoping that this year would be different for his lieutenant.

Simon doesn't call or text, too guilt-ridden to face you, but he reads each text you send, watches every video you share, his heart clenching every time you say his name and tell him you miss him. Because, Christ, he misses you, too. So bloody much.

It's two days before Christmas when Price stops by Simon's office and invites him out for a drink. The captain is leaving for Liverpool in the morning, yet he felt the need to give Simon this one last chance to change his mind about going home, hoping he can bring him 'round by getting him to talk about you. He knows Simon misses you, catches him looking at your photos on his phone, re-watching those videos you've sent, over and over again. The lad wants to go home to you, he's just too bloody stubborn to admit it.

They're strolling down the sidewalk to the King's Crown Pub in Hereford when something catches Simon's eye in a shop window, and Price suddenly finds himself walking alone. Stopping, he turns to see his lieutenant staring through the window, one gloved hand pressed to the glass. Curious, he retraces his steps to see what's captured the other man's attention. His brows climb up his forehead when he sees it's a collection of charm bracelets made of white-gold links, delicate little charms and colored beads dangling on display atop a dark green cloth of crushed velvet.

"Pretty," he comments, noting Simon's avid gaze.

"Look at tha' one charm," Simon murmurs, finger pointing. "It's a li'l stack o' books. See it?"

Price peers through the window, nodding, playing along. "They all got a theme, don't they? Like that one must be for a nurse, an' that one with the books is for a teacher. See the ruler and pencil? Even got a little apple," he says, pointing out the charm and chuckling.

It's a little white-gold apple set with the tiniest red gemstones. Simon's heart gives a flutter in his chest and his breath fogs the window as though it's just been punched out of his lungs. He remembers that you once told him that in literature, apples often symbolized knowledge.

But also love.

"Huh," Price grunts. "Says on the sign ya can choose the charms ya want. That's nice, innit? Makes it more personal."

That does it for Simon. He can see the shop is closed, but they're open tomorrow. If he gets there when they open, he can buy a bracelet and be on the road before lunch. It's a four-hour drive, but if all goes well, he should be home before you leave for the Christmas Eve party at the Dog. Hell, he might even go in for a few minutes, say hello to Ollie.

"Hey, Cap. I know it's late notice, but ya think I might—"

John grips Simon's shoulder, a pleased smile crinkling the corners of his blue eyes. "Say no more, lad. I'll take your name off the duty roster when we get back. Consider yourself on leave, effective tomorrow morning."

-

Simon returns to the jewelry shop as soon as it opens the next day, braving the horde of last-minute shoppers to purchase the bracelet. He spends nearly an hour going over all the different charms available, picking the ones that remind him most of you, but making sure to buy two apple charms, as well as a little skull charm that he couldn't resist.

The shop owner puts the bracelet in a slender, velvet box and wraps it in pretty foil paper, adding ribbons and a bow, before handing it over to him with a warm smile. Simon nods his thanks and tucks it safely inside his coat, heart beating faster as he makes his way back to his truck. He's nervous, he realizes, but that only makes his steps more determined. He's running a little late, but if he makes good time once he hits the M4, he should still get home before you leave for the party.

Once he's on the A417, he peers over at the diminutive gift in the passenger seat, and that nervous fluttering he's been feeling in his chest returns. He hopes you like the bracelet, hopes it makes you smile. He thinks you will like it, thinks you'll probably love it, in fact. He can't wait to put it on your wrist.

He's about an hour into the almost four-hour drive to Banfield when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He takes it out, glances down to see your name, but doesn't answer, though he wants to. He had decided he was going to surprise you and answering would give him away. So, instead, he waits until he gets the voicemail alert, then hits the play button, pressing the phone to his ear.

"Hey, Si! Was thinking about you, so decided to check in. I've been baking all day, getting ready for the Christmas Eve party at the Dog. Fi and Ollie said to tell you hi. Margie and the Gillys send their best, too. Oh! Guess what? Ned and some of his mates are going to be playing at the party. Ollie said they're really good... Anyway, I guess that's it for now. I miss you, Si. Take care of yourself and come home safe, yeah? All my X's and O's, Grumpy. Bye."

Simon's hand is trembling when he pulls the phone away from his ear. "Damn right, they're all mine," he mutters softly. An overwhelming feeling wells up inside him, a feeling so intense it prickles and stings at the backs of his eyes. He huffs a shaky breath and presses play again.

"Hey, Si! Was thinking about you, so decided to check in..."

-

An accident on the M4 delays his arrival, so by the time Simon turns onto his street, it's well past dark and he's well past irritated, or at least he is until he sees his rowhouse come into view. He parks at the curb and sits there, peering through the foggy windscreen, his dark eyes reflecting the lights decorating the front of his home.

Warm yellow string lights twinkle in the cold night air, wound through the bushes and outlining the door and windows. There's a large wreath hanging on the door that's lit up as well, its jaunty red bow slightly fluttering in the wind. It's as pretty as a Christmas card.

Simon sighs out a long breath and it feels like a weight is being lifted off his shoulders as he continues to stare at his house. That's my home, he thinks, our home, and is caught off guard by the revelation, because of the way it makes him feel.

Through the sitting room window, he can just make out the blinking of more Christmas lights, though it appears that the rest of the house is dark. He huffs and shakes his head. He's always griping at you for leaving appliances plugged in or the lights on, but this time, he's glad you did. Grabbing your gift from the passenger seat, he tucks it back into his coat and exits the truck, duffel slung over his shoulder.

That warmth he's grown accustomed to feeling when he returns home now, once more engulfs him again as he makes his way up the walk to the front door. Though he knows you're not at home, that you've already left for the party, he can still feel your presence in the glow of the lights, welcoming him home.

His comes to a halt when he steps through the door. The first thing that hits him is the sweet scent of baked cookies, with hints of orange, pine and warm spices to round out the smell. When he closes the door behind him, sleighbells jingle on the door handle, making him snort out a soft laugh, before he turns to take in the rest of the house.

You've not gone crazy with the decorating, though he told you to do whatever you liked. There are potted poinsettias in the entry, a bit of greenery gracing the door and window frames, pinecones and candles with sprigs of holly arranged on the entrance table. You kept it low-key. For him.

Yet it's the Christmas tree that makes him wince in regret. He had avoided looking at it before leaving, and how sorry he is that he did.

The tree glows in the darkness, drawing him further into the room. You had kept it simple with the decorations for the tree as well. There are strings of stale popcorn and dried cranberries draped over the branches. Carved wooden ornaments and glass baubles, worn from years of loving use, are suspended on thin loops of ribbon. A delicate, filigreed gold star tops the twinkling boughs. He sighs, bumping a wooden nutcracker figure with his index finger.

And then he spots his ornament.

It's a half-skull made of clay, formed to mimic his mask, but with a Santa hat on it, 'Simon' etched into the cranium in your neat script. It's obviously hand-made, though done so with care and skill, and he wonders how long it took you to make it. He can picture you sitting at the island in the kitchen, tongue caught between your teeth as you molded and shaped the air-dry clay with your deft little fingers.

When he strokes his thumb over the skull, he can feel that there's something also carved into the back of the ornament. Turning it over, he sees you've carved 'Grumpy' into the clay, then beneath it, 'All my X's and O's', and he laughs.

"Damn right, they're all mine, doll," he says, laughing to himself.

And if his laugh sounds a little choked, a little watery, there's no one's there to hear it but him.

-

The Dog is bustling, the villagers all come down to the local for Ollie's Christmas Eve party. Dear old Ned and his lads are set up in the back corner, playing a lively rendition of 'God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen', his long-suffering wife seated nearby, clapping along.

Ollie is behind the bar, resplendent in his Santa coat and hat, serving up pints of cider and winter ale, while Fiona and Margie supervise the tables laden with food. Pushing through the kitchen door, you side-step your boss with another tray of freshly baked sausage rolls, the smell of them drawing a drunken conga line into your wake.

"'Scuse me. Pardon," you repeat again and again as you wade through the crowd, tray held aloft.

Fiona takes the tray from you when you finally make your way over, placing it on the table before motioning you to join her off to the side. Placing an arm around your shoulders, she whispers, "Take a break, Dee. Ya've been runnin' yerself ragged since ya got here."

She's right. Staying busy keeps your mind occupied, distracts you from the lonely ache that's been plaguing you all day. You thought you had accepted Simon's absence, had resigned yourself to being alone for Christmas, but the feeling has only grown worse as the night's progressed. Still, you can't deny you're feeling a little frazzled, so you nod and pat her hand.

"Was planning on taking break, anyway. Just wanted to get those sausage rolls out first. This lot's eating them faster than I can make them."

Fi snorts a laugh. "Aye, so no need tryin' t'keep up with 'em. Go on, love. Get yerself a drink an' rest. Enjoy the party. Me an' Margie got it covered here."

You offer her a parting smile and head towards the bar, waving Ollie over as you squeeze in between two drunk blokes arguing about the proper ingredients for wassail.

"What can I get ya, sweetheart?" Ollie asks, leaning on the bar in front of you.

You were going to ask for cider, but what comes out of your mouth is, "Two fingers of Dewer's, please."

His eyes go soft and a little sad. "Sure, lass. Comin' right up."

You sigh, feeling like a lovesick eejit, pining after Simon when you know he'll be home in a few days. This is something that you need to get used to since this will no doubt be how you spend the rest of your Christmas holidays for the foreseeable future. In the grand scheme of things, this is nothing, really, less than nothing, so you need to just let it go. You'll be fine.

Ollie slides your drink over to you, watching as you take a sip and grimace. He'd laugh if it weren't so bloody heartbreaking. He can see you miss Simon like mad, and the old captain feels his palm itch with the need to box his greenie's damn ears. Sure, he understands why Simon doesn't celebrate Christmas, but you don't, and that's the rub of it. He should at least explain, help you understand.

"Ya doin' alright, love?"

You nod and plaster on a smile. "Yeah, just knackered after all that baking. I'll clean up in the back after my break."

Ollie waves you off. "Leave it. Ya've done enough. Go have a seat an' rest yer feet."

The room erupts in shouts and applause, distracting you both, as Ned and his band finish their song. Ale and cider go sloshing as several in the crowd lift their pints aloft in salute. There's a lull in the din as the band discusses what to play next, then Ned calls for Fiona to join them.

A genuine smile lights up your face when you see your bessie join Ned, the two of them whispering a moment before she nods then takes a calming breath. Not many know it, but Fiona sings like an angel, so this will be a rare treat for everyone.

The room grows quiet as Ned exchanges his fiddle for a guitar, then begins to pluck out the chords to 'I'll be home for Christmas'. The rest of the band sit back to give the pair center stage, letting the sound of the guitar resonate through the room as Ned begins to sing. When Fiona joins in, the room goes completely still.

"Christmas Eve will find me/ Where the love light gleams..."

And suddenly the tears are welling up, your chin wobbling, and you have to duck out of the room and down the hall into Ollie's office, before anyone sees you crying. You drop down into the chair in front of Ollie's desk, feeling so lonesome for Simon, you think your heart might break.

You're still sniffling, swiping at your face with the sleeve of your sweater when you hear the door open behind you, Ned and Fiona's harmonized voices filling the room.

"S-Sorry. Just needed a moment," you stammer out, peeking over your shoulder expecting to see Ollie or Margie standing in the doorway. Your breath hitches in your chest when you see Simon standing there, instead.

"Si?"

"Miss me, doll?"

A sob tears out of your throat as you launch yourself at him, his big arms wrapping around you and catching you up in a tight embrace, lifting you off your feet. "Bloody hell, I've missed ya, love. Had to come back," he tells you, his voice muffled by your neck.

Your hands are grasping his head, kissing him over the mask before he growls and strips it off his face, tossing it aside as he steps forward and kicks the door shut behind him. He doesn't hesitate before carrying forward, setting you on the edge of Ollie's desk as he kisses you with all the yearning and longing he's been feeling since he walked out his door three weeks ago.

You're clinging to him, desperate to feel his hands on you, his lips on you, just needing to feel him. His thumbs wipe away the tears still streaming down your cheeks as he cradles your head in his hands. "Don't cry, doll. Please don't cry," he mumbles against your lips, his own voice sounding haggard.

You sniff, a watery little laugh escaping. "Can't help it. I'm just so happy you're home."

You feel his lips smiling against yours. "Me, too, love," he whispers, leaving a lingering kiss on your lips before pulling away. "I... I got ya a present," he mutters, reaching inside his coat and removing the box. He hands it over, his dark gaze almost shy as he whispers, "Happy Christmas, doll."

Your eyes are wide and unblinking as you take the gift with trembling fingers, eyes darting over it before snapping up to meet his. "Si, you didn't have to—"

"Christ," he huffs, a soft smile turning up the corner of his mouth. "Shut yer gob an' jus' open it, ya bloody brat," he murmurs, lowering his head to bump his brow against yours.

Your smile is giddy as you peer into his eyes and nod, tearing into the paper, catching your bottom lip between your teeth before opening the slender box. You gasp when you do.

"Oh, Si..." you breathe out, fingertips lightly tracing over the individual charms. "It's beautiful. It's... perfect!"

You're positively beaming when you throw your arms around his neck again, hugging him with all your might. He rumbles out a laugh, hugging you back just as tight. "'M glad ya like it, doll. Knew I had t'get it fer ya as soon as I saw it."

You sigh, pulling away to peer down at the bracelet again, overwhelmed. "The charms. They're all the things that I love," you say softly, beyond touched. There are tiny cooking utensils, a rolling pin and little cookpot. A little stack of books, a tea pot, a cute little bookworm. Tiny garden tools, flowers. The skull makes you giggle, brushing an affectionate finger over it as you smile. And the apples, two of them, one set in red gems, the other in green. "I love this so much, Si."

"Want me to help put it on yer wrist fer ya?"

You nod eagerly, handing the box back to him. "Please."

His fingers shake a bit as he takes the bracelet from the box and drapes it over your wrist, his big fingers fumbling a bit before he finally attaches the clasp. He takes your hand by your fingertips, arching your wrist to see how it looks on you, smiling. "Lookit tha'. Knew it would look good on ya."

Your smile is so wide, your cheeks ache, unable to take your eyes off of it. "I love it, Si," you whisper, your eyes drifting up to meet his. "I love it. And I love—"

A sharp rap sounds at the door, cutting you off, and Simon thinks he might kill whoever is on the other side. He growls, bumping his head against yours in frustration. You sniff a little laugh and peck his lips before calling out, "Just a sec." You stroke his stubbled jaw. "Best get your mask," you whisper to him.

He's adjusting it on his face when you go to open the door, not surprised to see Ollie standing out in the hallway. "Sorry, Ol. Didn't mean to commandeer your office."

Ollie glances over your shoulder with a shrewd eye. "'S fine. Jus' wanted t'check on the two o' ya." Translation: 'Just wanted to make sure the two of you aren't shagging in my office. Again.'

Simon scoffs, reading between the lines as well. "Don't worry, Ol. We're fine. Still fully clothed, as ya can see. Jus' wanted t'give Dee her present. in private."

"Uh-huh," he grunts, dubious. Yet when you hold your wrist out to show him your bracelet, a proud smile creeps over the older man's face as he admires Simon's gift. "It's lovely, Dee," he tells you, giving Simon an approving nod. "Ya did well, son. Good lad."

Simon's near bursting with pride when he walks you back out into the bar room, eyes smiling above his mask as friends and neighbors come up to welcome him home and wish him a happy Christmas. He doesn't think once about leaving.

As he sits in one of the booths, an arm around your shoulders, relishing the feel of your warmth against his side, he peers out over the pub, takes in all the faces that have become familiar to him, his neighbors and friends, and, yeah, his family. It warms him from the inside out, seeing everyone gathered together, eating and drinking and laughing, the whole scene set aglow by hundreds of twinkling lights.

He hears you sigh and glances down to see you admiring your bracelet again, your face glowing with an inner light that warms him through and heats his blood. It's the same light that sees him through the hard battles, that leads him out of the darkness when he's lost, that will always guide him home.

He pulls you tighter against him, burying his mask in your hair to breathe you in. He thinks about that song Fi and Ned were singing when he entered the pub, that one line replaying in his head.

'Christmas Eve will find me/ Where the love light gleams...'

And he finally understands what the term 'love light' really means, because you're glowing with it.

And so is he.

-

[stevesbipanic]

Boy For All Seasons

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 Ao3

By the time the first snow began to fall upon Hawkins Eddie knew he was falling in love with one Steve Harrington. Most nights the boys shared a bed feigning exhaustion or cold weather as an excuse to be close to each other. Eddie was weak to Steve's wishes and selfishly wanted to keep the younger boy in his orbit for as long as possible.

Christmas break had just started and Eddie was helping Steve hang up lights on the roof of Family Video.

"Ya know Stevie, usually when I help you with work it's to steal corporate America's heating system not freeze my balls off."

"I told you to wear I sweater when we left this morning."

Eddie's cheeks flushed and it wasn't from the cold, he mumbled a response.

"What was that?" Steve asked as he climbed back down and they headed inside.

"I said you're wearing my only sweater." Eddie was at least feeling warm now under Steve's gaze.

"Eds why didn't you say something, I could've survived!"

"I didn't want you to get cold, besides you look cute in my clothes."

Steve smiled softly, "Oh yeah? Trying to get me all dressed up a metalhead Munson?"

Eddie leaned in, a smirk dancing over his face, "Well you would look pretty h-."

"Oi! Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee! A little help would be nice!" Robin called, startling the boys apart.

"Sorry Robs."

"We helped with the lights little Birdie!"

"Mhm, Steve did the lights, you enjoyed the show, Munson," Robin muttered under her breath. It hadn't been long ago that the two had done the questioning gaze at each other revealing they had more in common than they thought. It made Eddie happy that it was unlikely Steve would punch him if he found out but even with all the flirting Eddie wasn't willing to risk it.

"What time are we supposed to be there on Tuesday, Steve-o?"

"Five, 'cause you know the kids are gonna want presents before dinner. Is Nance still picking you up?"

"Yeah she said she's got room, Joyce says she's gonna borrow Ms. Sinclair's car while they're here so she's got the rest of the kids handled."

Steve smiled and continued stacking the shelves.

"You guys having a little Christmas Eve party with the sheepies?" Eddie asked trying not to feel a little hurt that he'd been excluded.

"Hm? Oh shit! Eddie yeah everyone's coming over that day, you should bring Wayne too if he's not working."

"Dingus, did you forget to invite him?"

"Maybe," Steve said sheepishly, "In my defense, I assumed we'd be hanging out that day anyway."

Something warm bloomed in Eddie's chest at the assumption, at the inference that Steve would want to be around Eddie all the time.

"Wayne's working sadly, but you're right, we should probs sleep at yours Tuesday then so you have time to get everything set up." If Eddie hadn't been hiding his own blush behind his hair, he may have caught the light dusting across Steve's cheek at the word "we".

It wasn't long before Christmas Eve had rolled around. The Harrington house looked warmer when it was bathed in soft yellow Christmas lights. Steve had spent all day moving around the kitchen getting the feast ready, Eddie a dutiful taster and switcher of vinyls.

Before long the doorbell rang and a stampede of noise and laughter filled the home. Steve had been correct, the kids wanted to do presents first, and a mess of wrapping paper and cheers flowed through the living room. Eddie in typical Eddie fashion had dressed up as Santa Claus and helped pass around the gifts.

"This is for you, Eds," Steve said shyly passing a small gift to Eddie.

"Thanks, sweetheart." Eddie unwrapped the gift to find a chain with a black and red guitar pick attached.

"You've got so many rings, thought you needed something a little different, plus it matches your guitar."

"It's awesome, thank you, Stevie." Before Eddie could stop his own actions he'd leaned into Steve's space and pecked his cheek.

Steve immediately flushed, his hand reaching up to softly touch his cheek before standing quickly and telling the group that it was time for dinner. Briefly, Eddie thought he'd ruined everything but at the table, Steve still smiled and sat beside him.

Later, when everyone else had been taken home leaving Eddie and Steve warm and safe in Steve's bed Eddie thought about mentioning it. He thought about mentioning everything, all the flirting, the jokes, the costumes, the smiles, the stares, the fact that they slept together almost every night. But he didn't, instead, he whispered softly as they both softly drifted to sleep.

"Merry Christmas, Stevie."

"Merry Christmas, Eds."

Tags: @zerokrox-blog @smallfrogpleasedtomeetyou @eboyawstenn @sharingisntkaren @goodolefashionedloverboi @the-redthread @steddie-there @questionablequeeries @liorereshkigal @mightbeasleep @carlyv @my2amgaythoughts @gregre369 @space-invading-pigeon @bisexualdisastersworld @epiclazershark @sherrylyn628 @raisedbylibrarians @swaghettoni

[lewsnumerounofan]

when in france (lh x reader)

summary: you bump into your ex, lewis, at a club in france. what’s the worst that could happen?

notes: nswf, ex-relationship, unprotected sex, oral (m/f receiving), little bit o’ angst, 4.6k words, not edited

+ check out other works here

+ switched the tense halfway thru again. but im too lazy to change it rn!!! sry!

---

“Lewis is here.”

You don’t hear your friend the first time she says it, the club’s music too loud in your ears. But she presses herself up against you the second time, puts her cheek alongside yours and you feel the shape of his name in her mouth as she yells.

Lewis.

You hadn’t expected him here. Sure, it was the night after a big victory -- a Mercedes two-three finish (not that you’d been watching) -- but from what you’d heard he wasn’t partying these days. He keeps to himself, were the words your mutual friend had used. You didn’t ask about him after that, didn’t want to remind yourself that you were no longer familiar with Lewis’ life, with the little things he did.

You pull your head up from the tight-packed dance floor and try to find him -- the tight braids, strong shoulders. And sure enough there is, being led up the wall-mounted staircase to the VIP area. Even from a distance you can see the heavy black cargos, the flimsy white tank top barely covering his shoulders, the dark press of his tattoos underneath.

“He’s so fine,” your friend murmurs. You turn, letting your shoulder shove into hers. Trying to slow your breathing, calm yourself. Lewis is here, in the same club as you. So close, and-

“He’s looking at you.”

“What?”

You whip back to your friend, but she’s suddenly busy dancing with a blue-haired girl, sending you a guilty kiss as the two move away. Some friend.

So it’s just you who has to turn back to where you know Lewis stands, remembering suddenly the time you surprised him by flying in for family Christmas. How his mother had grinned and shushed you at the front door, how he’d started smiling as soon as he’d seen you, how warm his hands had been wrapping under your stupid holiday sweater. You’re here, he’d said. But that had been months ago, before your promotion meant you could no longer spare weekends to watch his races, before he started calling you hammered from parties, other women's voices shrill in the background, before he stopped calling at all.

But when you look Lewis isn’t there. The stairs are empty, the glint of his jewellery nowhere to be found. Probably for the best, you think.

Probably for the best.

-

You manage to work back in with some people you’d met in line, joining them in another round of shots. By now everything is starting to feel a bit hazy, tingly, loose. A tall Frenchman presses at your back, his murmur low in your ear. You can’t hear him, laugh, continue dancing. Lewis is almost passed from your head. One more drink and you’re sure to be clear of him, one more… You part from your companions again, narrowly escaping the hands of your dance partner.

“I’m just gonna get another drink, be right back. Promise.”

Clumsily you make it to the bar, heave yourself onto the counter, admire the sea-glass collection of liquor bottles stacked along the shelves. Your head is slowing down a bit and your feet hurt. You order from the bartender and make to pull out your card when a thick British accent speaks from over your shoulder.

“Make it two. And you can add it to my tab, thanks.”

Lewis.

You let the heavy wood bar press into your back as you turned to face him. The same markings of facial hair at his jaw and above his lip, the same glittering stud in his nose. Same warm brown eyes, even the same chain at his neck -- the chain you’d given him after the horrible season end in Abu Dhabi. Still I Rise carved in small lettering on the private metal beside his neck.

“Hi. I was looking for you,” he says, easy, like the last time you saw each other wasn’t when you packed up your things and moved out of his apartment.

“You found me,” you say, because there’s nothing else to say and the club lighting is throwing soft shadows over his shoulders, his arms. He looks older than you remembered, more mature. You’re not sure how you get the words out -- your throat feels tight, your heart taking up all the room in your body.

Behind you the bartender sets down your drinks and you don’t give yourself time to think before offering one to Lewis, your outstretched arm as much a peace offering as you’re willing to make. Your hands brush as he takes it, nods. His eyes don’t leave yours. He says something to you but you’re too distracted by the shift in his throat as he swallows to hear. Or maybe it’s the music.

“What?”

He grins, flashing the tooth gap you’ve been thinking about for months, leans close enough for you to smell the alcohol on him, the cologne. Your heart is racing.

“Wanna go upstairs?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Another grin and he takes your hand. Laces your fingers together like it’s the easiest thing in the world. He leads you along the edge of the crowd, the dark skin of his shoulders shifting as he navigates alongside the wall. His rings are warm against your knuckles. You trail up the stairs behind him, know he’s going to stop in the dim landing of the alcove before he does.

He keeps both hands over yours, like he’s scared you’re going to try run away. Between the dancefloor and the speakers of the VIP lounge is quieter. You think you can hear Lewis’ heartbeat.

“I just- I wanted to say I’m sorry for how things ended. Between us,” he says, and his eyes are crinkled and you knew he really cares.

“S’okay, Lewis. It’s okay.”

Hope. That’s the little gleam in his eye as he lets his tongue push out into his cheek.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And then his hand is cupping your neck, the tips of his fingers already curling through your hair and you can’t help but smile back, rub your face into the soft skin of his palm.

“Wanna get drunk with me?” he whispers, like you’re teenagers again, like this is your shared secret plan.

Yeah. Yeah, you do.

-

You promised yourself you’d call an Uber home but Lewis doesn’t let you. He pulls your phone away and you’re too inebriated and slow to get it back. Too happy and giggly to care. He dangles it just out of reach and you let yourself play, pressing your body against his, stretching until you feel the hot fan of his breath on your neck. His hands settling on your hips, his lips on your neck. Come home with me, he’s saying, and you’re nodding into the crook of his shoulder, breathing him in.

In the car he slides closed the privacy screen between the driver and the backseat. Doesn’t even let you get all the way in before he’s pulling you onto his lap, hands framing your face, teeth biting at your lower lip. When you pull away his eyes are sleepy and wholly black, his mouth quirked up at one side, red from kissing. You want him in your mouth then, want to see if he tastes the same as you remember.

You’d done this once before on the way to some fancy event. There had been no time in the hotel beforehand, and Lewis’ cropped outfit had been irresistible. Hidden between his legs, careful not to disturb the fine fabric of his pants, you’d let him hit the back of your throat every time the car went over a bump. The way he whimpered as you kitten licked him, ringed thumb feeling his own cock through the skin of your cheek. You’d barely finished swallowing and tucking him back into his pants when you’d arrived. He’d kissed you real hard hidden in the privacy of the car. Kept looking over at you during the event speeches. Smiling, looking down, shaking his head. You’d squeeze his hand or shove him. He returned the favour in one of the bathrooms, slight scuff marks on the knees of his suit the only hint as you two returned for dessert.

But this time is different. Lewis doesn’t pick up on what you’re doing at first, whining when you break away from him. His hands are grasping at your shirt but you push him off, shaking your head, grinning.

“Wanna touch you,” he says, and his voice is rough and low. You almost abandon your plans. Almost. Instead you move your legs from around his hips to between them, dropping to the floor of the car. You pull your hair up too, knowing that Lewis will pull at it anyways.

“Oh.”

You give him one more wicked smile before finding the button of his pants, tugging his zipper down. Already Lewis is impatient, muscled thigh bouncing up and down lightly in your peripheral. You slide your hand along it, soothing turning brazen as you continue your path to trace the hard shape of him through his briefs.

He curses, jerking under your featherlight touch. You can see his clenched fists pressed on either side of the seat in a desperate attempt not to grab for you. Not to upset the odd balance that somehow found you at the same club, on the same night, and now on your knees before him.

“You can touch me, Lewis,” you joke, but it comes out slow, sounds sanded down by your inebriation.

His fingers find your hair, tucking back stray strands so he can see your mouth. Quickly, hands fumbling slightly, you pull him out of his boxers. Quiet, pressing kisses to the head of him, the shaft, the sensitive skin of his pelvis. You let the short hair there scratch at your cheek before you lick an unbroken strip up. Above you, Lewis’ chest heaves, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. He’s always been transfixed by this, by watching you. So you look up at him, at his sleepy hooded eyes, as you take him into the back of your throat. He makes a desperate hurting sound, his hand gripping harder at your hair. You hold him there for a moment, letting water collect at your lash line, letting your gag reflex kick in, before humming once and pulling up, spitting into your fist, stroking him.

Lewis is everywhere — his laboured breathe in your ear, the musky taste of him in your mouth, his smell.

Stupid of you to think your memories could be fonder than reality, that the velvet of his skin couldn’t be as all-consuming as you recollected. He is beautiful before you, his powerful thighs and wide, strong torso. The gentle stroke of his fingers at your scalp. You had missed this, missed him. You swipe at his precum with your tongue, savouring the hot smooth skin there, the way he moans under the small gentle touches of your mouth.

The car comes to a stop before you can take him into your throat again, and Lewis doesn’t even bother fully zipping up his pants as he leads you out of the car. His kisses on your neck, shoulder, cheek, murmuring that he’d missed your mouth, that you looked so pretty on your knees. You blush -- not minutes after sucking him off in the back of a car you’re blushing at his praise.

He takes your hand as you hurry through the hotel lobby and over to the elevators. You shush each other, both frantically pressing at the up button and laughing at the fullness of the moment. You’re drunk off Lewis.

As soon as the elevator doors open he’s on you, pressing you back to the mirrored glass wall, licking into your mouth, your teeth. His hands are all over, hiking up your dress, pushing back your hair, grasping and tilting your face to where he wants it.

“Lew-”

He hums into you, reaching between your legs to cup your core. It’s so brazen, so claiming that your legs feel weak. You let your arms fall around his neck, let yourself take everything he gives you.

The elevator pings, the doors open. Lewis pulls off your mouth, forehead pressed to yours so your breathe mingles. His brow furrows and for a second you’re terrified this has all been some misunderstanding. That the next sentence out of his mouth will be this was a mistake. That this was all some horrible attempt to cushion your feelings or not make you feel stupid. 

“It might be a little messy in my room-”

You laugh and blow right by him, ducking under his reaching arms.

“Hey,” he calls, but you’ve already made it to his door and are in the middle of an attempt to take off your heels, catching desperately at the wall for balance.

“Hey what,” you echo back, pulling your head up to find him real close now. Watching you. This is how it felt when we were first falling in love, you think. You want to hide it, keep this precious idea lingering in your subconscious for a little longer but there it is, glaring, almost, in the little smile playing across Lewis’ lips, the crinkle at his eyes.

“Just hey,” and this time he says it onto your mouth as kisses you, spins you around, lets you squeal into his cheek as the carpet and the lights twirl.

Behind you the click of his keycard and then he’s crowding you into the dark hotel suite. You feel up at his face, push your palms flat to his cheeks, stroke first his brow then his full lips with the pad of your thumb. He barely breathes as you move, only watching you from under his long, soft eyelashes.

“So beautiful, Lew.”

You don’t mean to say it, stopping your fingers when you hear your own words. So loud in the new space. But it’s dark too, and Lewis lets his head drop to kiss you again -- slow this time. First your temple, then each closed eyelid, your cheekbones, the tip of your nose. You sigh into him when he slots over your lips, when he traces his tongue over your front teeth.

“Lewis.”

“I know, I know baby,” he practically coos it into your mouth, big hands holding your face.

Then you’re scrambling to find the bed, tripping over suitcases and couches. Lewis wasn’t a messy person -- this weekend must’ve been hectic for him to be leaving his place like this. Or maybe he just doesn’t have anyone to keep it clean for anymore, a voice somewhere in the back of your mind adds. You push the thought away, focus instead on the dim shapes of the wall, the inky black patches that must be doors. You’re stumbling, but Lewis’ hands catch you, forearms banding over your middle. At your back, pressing up against you, kissing into your neck.

“I got you. I got you,” he murmurs, and the husky timbre of his voice has your thighs pressing together.

“Lewis,” you whine again, desperate for his fingers, his tongue, his cock.

Shuffling, hand out, Lewis leads you through the door and to the bed, spinning you round to face him before he’s pushing you back onto the soft sheets. With his help you lift and discard your dress and shoes. Already you’re itching to do the same to him, but Lewis only sinks to his knees and pulls you to the very edge of the bed. Such a familiar strength as he tugs at the back of your knees. Easy. Gentle. You could get used to this.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, trying to keep your head silent from now on. But the thought lingers as Lewis mouths slowly at your calf, kissing to your knee, your thigh, licks into the crease of your hip. You jump, watching him hide his smile against the soft skin of your stomach.

“Shut up.”

You let a hand fall lazily to shove at his cheek. He turns, catches your palm instantly -- fast, sometimes you forget how fast he is -- bites at your fingers. You squeak but let him hold you there, considering the flesh and bone. You catch the dangerous glint in his eye immediately.

“Lewis..”

He shushes you, his predatory focus on your fingers indivertable.

“Trust me sweetheart,” he says, and you know there’s no use fighting it. Slowly, as if still thinking the idea over, Lewis turns your hand over, pressing it towards your own core.

“Lewis, I don’t know-”

But already you can feel your pointer and ring finger pressing where you’re overheating, and Lewis is gazing between your legs like there’s something beautiful there.

“Let me do this,” and his voice is practically begging. Cheeks aflame, you can’t watch as Lewis guide your fingers in, in, in. You moan at the same time he does, squirming at the need for more, at the knowledge that Lewis is practically hypnotized watching you finger fuck yourself for him. He guides your digits out with a full tug at your wrist, and then bares them back again, letting the wet sound you make travel up to you.

“Lewis-”

No longer hesitant now, you’re needy for more, for him. But Lewis doesn’t heed any of your whining, only pushing your fingers back and forth at that same excruciating pace, practically eating you with his hungry eyes. He knows the slight humiliation of getting yourself off in front of him keeps you docile so he pushes it -- pushes you -- until you’re practically writhing beneath him. Until you surrender to him like a fever, until he is the only thing, the only shape your mouth can form. Then he relents, pulls your fingers out fully, lets you flutter in their absence, sucks the digits clean, grunts at the taste of you.

You sob his name again and then he’s locking your thighs open and licking you in one long stripe. You’re frenzied after that, breaking quickly into a white washed orgasm, bucking as he works you into you into an oversensitive mess.

“S’okay, I got you,” he’s whispering, moving up your body to handle your limp figure, letting you curl up boneless in his lap. He kisses out constellations on your shoulders, says: you did so good for me baby, so proud of you.

You don’t move for a while, eventually coming to trace the lines of the tattoos on his collar bones. The hotel heater kicks on, huffing quietly across the room.

“I always loved how you’d do that,” he says. Your orgasm has left you cold and you press further into the steady heat of him, the small patches of skin open to you through his clothes.

“Missed you, Lew. Really missed you.”

It’s all you’ll let yourself admit back to him, but he takes your face between his hands, enveloping you, hiding you from the rest of the world and kisses you so gently you think you’ll break.

“Lewis.”

The moon shines through the window and Lewis’ eyes are bright with it.

“Yeah.”

“Have sex with me.”

He sighs, slow and long because he knows this will change things. Then he’s kissing you again, lips delicate on yours, sliding over your jaw, searching out the sensitive spots on your neck. You’re gasping and Lewis is tugging off his shirt.

He goes for his pants but halts under your tracing hands. First the lion snarling, then you’re thumbing over the compass, the hard press of his solar plexus. You kiss him there once, twice, right at the center of him. Like you’re marking him, saying I was here. He shudders and shifts you off his lap to fully strip out of his cargos and briefs. He’s leaking and red, standing out from his stomach.

“Poor baby’s been so neglected,” you coo and he pushes you back into the mountain of pillows at the headboard. You’re joking, maybe. You can never tell with Lewis. He’s sizing you up too, one knee propped on the bed, hand absentmindedly stroking himself.

“Why don’t you do something about it then?”

He’s so much bigger than you, stronger than you, when he talks like this. Reminds you of him in the car, the crude way he’d sometimes talk to the other men in the garage. Your heart rate kicks up, just a bit.

“C’mere.”

He obliges, covering your body and face in shadow as he holds himself level with you. One hand on his bicep --- so solid, so heavy under your hand -- the other to the hot length of him. His mouth open and brow furrowed as he watches you notch him at your entrance. And then just you and him, watching.

“You’re sure?” he asks.

You look again at the tired warmth of his eyes, the smile lines you’d been lucky enough to frequent for years at a time. Lewis and you played around it, letting yourselves get distracted by the petty everyday stress of relationships, dating, fame, but here you were. Back in his bed, back in his arms, back in the same club. You and Lewis were just that: you and Lewis. You were destined to orbit around each other. Perhaps this time you could get away with colliding.

You kiss him, all the answer he needs to start pushing into you. You keep your lips connected until the stretch of him, the size of him, is too much, has you gasping into his shoulder. You’d forgotten the press of him between your legs, in your head, until he was shoving everything else out, only Lewis. Too tight, too big. Your breathing is ragged, tears finding their way past your clenched eyes.

“You can take it baby,” he says as he keeps baring into you, kissing at your tears. You leave red lines down his back. You feel dumb on his cock, on the way it takes up every space in your head. He kisses your temple when he bottoms out, shaking above you. Maybe you are too, but when you open your eyes Lewis is staring at you like he’s seeing you for the very first time, eyes wide. He leans down to kiss you, keeps his eyes closed as he whispers, “I love you.”

And then he’s pulling out, almost to the tip, not letting you reply before thrusting back in. The power in his hips knocks your breath away, only able to claw at his back as he hikes up one of your legs. The angle has you seeing stars with each new push of him, eyes near rolling back into your head as he pants over you. His chain -- the chain you’d given him -- dangles above you. Funny, you think dimly. Even with everything a part of you was with him always. It hurts your heart a little, but then Lewis is shifting, pining your hips down, forcing you to take even more of him and you think you’re tearing apart.

“Lewis, Lewis,” you’re crying his name, desperate as you cling to him, clench around him.

He’s murmuring something at your ear but you can hardly hear him over the growing crush in your ears, twin to the ever-tightening climax knotting in your core. Then: Lewis’ hand, coaxing at your cheek. He tips your face up ‘till you’re looking at him, eyes wide, vulnerable. For you, only for you. One arm is wrapped over his shoulders, the other coming up to hold him, to push back two braids working themselves loose. He’s mumbling it, I love you, over and over, so you kiss him to make him stop, to try slow down this beautiful spinning wheel you two have found yourselves riding.

You’re too hot below him, the heat of his body covering you, pressing at you. He slips his thumb down to circle your clit and you can’t help but buck into his calloused finger. Everything is too much -- Lewis urging you forward a frenzied peak, the stretch of him between your legs, the quiet way he moans into you.

The warm lick of his tongue through your mouth, the way he licks over your mouth like he owns it has you breaking. Finally you’re crumpling over his cock, crying out as Lewis fucks you through it. Eyes closed, you let yourself burrow into him as your senses mute, vision white. Each raw drag of him has you whimpering, keening into the over-stimulation.

“Can I-” he starts to ask and you nod, lock your legs behind him. Something pained flashes over his expression, something you want to kiss away, but then he’s cumming, so hard he stops breathing. You coax him through it. Kiss at his hairline, brow. He slumps into you, letting his whole weight bore you into the mattress. Pressed to the underside of his arm you just hold him, this beautiful creature you’ve found again. He lies there until his breathing settles and you think he's fallen asleep when he rolls enough to eye you -- one drowsy brown shape watching beneath his messy braids.

“Hi Lewis.”

He whispers back, gentle into the sheets.

“Hi.”

You’re smiling at each other softly, like this could be the start of something, like this might not be the end after all.

Slowly, like it’s the greatest effort of his life, Lewis heaves himself onto his back, rolling you with him. His cock is still inside you, but you know his cum will be leaking out soon, a dirty little reminder of what you let him do.

“Have to get up,” you tell him.

His arm tightens at your side, face suddenly closed off in a way you hadn’t seen all night.

“You gonna come back?” he asks.

You kiss the corner of his mouth, heart hurting at the question, how young he sounds saying it.

“Yeah Lew, I’ll come back.”

-

When you return from the bathroom he’s sleeping, chest rising under the thick hotel sheet.

You pad out to the kitchen, marble tiles cold against your feet. You try your best to find a glass without waking him, shuffling quietly through cupboards until you get the right one. Wincing at how loud the sink sounds in the high-ceilinged room. I love you, he’d said. Pushed the words onto your lips reverently, gifted them to you because he couldn’t keep them to himself. Oh, Lewis.

You watch out the high skyline of the apartment as the sun begins to colour the sky, sipping occasionally at your water, thinking.

Your legs are getting cold when Lewis comes out of the bedroom, eyes dark. He doesn’t notice you at first, only breathing hard in the open space of the hotel. He looks -- devastated.

“Lewis?” He starts at your voice, only staring at you for a moment before releasing a hard sigh, starting towards you and stopping abruptly at the edge of the kitchen.

“I thought-”

His voice catches and you cringe at the question in his speech, how his voice wavers.

“I thought you left.” His eyes, searching, scanning yours as you put down your water, trace around the kitchen counter to him. Stand before him, close, almost touching. You take his hand, look at the easy way your fingers connect.

“No, Lewis, I’m not leaving.”

Hope. It was what you’d seen earlier at the club and you knew if you found Lewis’ eyes you would see it again now. You’d made your decision -- made it when you first took his hand at the bar. You catch his gaze then, smile, just for him.

“Couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

He’s smiling too, just the beginnings of it, eyes bright again. Over his shoulder the sun breaks the horizon, golden light washing the hotel.

“Couldn’t because I love you, Lew.”

[thecameronchronicles]

Blizzard

TW: Smut. Language. Slight spanking. 

SUMMARY: A breakdown during a storm leads to a confession. 

WORD COUNT: 1900

*ORIGINAL CONCEPT*

Blizzard

It was rare but it happened. White out conditions in which you weren't able to see even a few feet in front of the car. Where ice and snow worked in unison to wreak havoc on those daft enough to try and chance it. And of course, JJ was one of those stubborn souls who believed he was wise and skilled enough to outlast the storm. But even if his convictions could be loosely commendable, the truck chosen to risk the storm was anything but reliable. 

"Shit!" He belted as the car died somewhere between The Outer Banks and Charleston, where you were coming back from visiting family. But where John B, Kiara, and Pope remained behind to wait out the storm, you and JJ dared the blizzard in hopes that you could return home by Christmas morning. But in the process, the truck was now stalled in the center of a desolate interstate absent from any other headlights aside from yours, now dying on the snow below. 

"Where are we?" You asked upon pulling your head from the rest it had made against the door until hearing his curse. 

"About five minutes away from me tearing that engine to pieces, piece of shit!" He hit the steering wheel with aggression as your eyes widened at this unexpected outburst. He was already desperate to get home from what you believed to be an uncomfortable family setting that he was otherwise deprived of. But the truth was more tender than that, but a truth he didn't want you to know of. At least not yet. 

"It's okay J-" 

"No! It's not. This is at least three fifty for the engine alone, not to mention the time wasted and-" 

"Really JJ, it's okay-" But in your attempt to console him, he was already under the hood of the car. The sound of further cursing half silenced by the rattling of an engine would lead you to understand his continued frustrations. 

"JJ, you're gonna get yourself sick, please just come back in the car." 

"Fuck!" He kicked the tire. "Useless piece of shit!" You realized rather quickly he was no longer berating the car, but more of himself. It broke your heart for a multitude of reasons. But more than anything for how hard you knew the holiday season for him had been. With the only family being a drunkard seemingly Velcroed to a couch coming down from the cheapest high he could find, any semblance of the festive spirit was understandably absent from him. No matter how he tried. You could still read the pain behind his eyes and the anxieties he tried to silence beneath humor. But you saw through it. You always did. And you were the only one who could consistently. 

"JJ..." He threw himself back in the car. 

"It was supposed to be special! Okay? The ONE thing I could give you and I fucked it up, too! God, I'm just-" 

"What are you talking about? What was supposed to be special?" 

But he remained silent, leading you to push him further until he finally relinquished his truth.

"I get to see you once a year and then you go back off to college with all those guys unworthy of your time...and I wanted to give you something worth remembering me-" 

"JJ..." 

"I know I should have said all this shit before but I never knew how you felt and then they way you look at me from across the table and hug me just a bit longer-" When you realized the sound of his name was only silenced behind his rant, you decided to set him into quietude with a different method. One that was favorable between you both. A simple collision of your lips would make him swallow hard once you retracted. 

"It's special because I'm with you. The only reason I come back every year...the reason I stay until New Year’s...hoping you'll make a move. Still waiting…" 

With one hand to your cheek and another pulling your belt loose until he could wrap his arm around your waist he set you against him with conviction. The kiss prompting this exchange was lackluster from being taken off guard by you, so he would now offer what nearly two decades of tension of friendship teetering on sensuality and romance had now amounted to once able to be acted on. And you were just as eager. 

As he focused more on the kiss, ensuring he was able to validate to you both of this desire, your fingers were quick beneath his plaid shirt, greedy to the muscles now contracting from your touch alone. You had always always teased with them and now they were at your disposal. 

"You like 'em?" He teased as you blushed before slowly nodding. 

"I like knowing I can touch them whenever I want..." You confessed aa he grinned. 

"That ain't the only thing that's yours then, sweetheart-" Your hand was pulled beneath his jeans, pulled apart by his ambitious hand, as he guided you into his seam. 

"I've never wanted anything more than you..." He explained as he watched you drool over his cock, 

"Well you have me, JJ..." You continued, pulling his shaft into pleasure as you set it into a series of corkscrews. 

"You know I wish for this every year, JJ?" 

"My cock?" 

"In a way..." You both chuckled. "I wish for you... to touch me...to kiss me...to tell me you want me...THAT is what I want every single year..." His hand came to the back of your neck, forcing your focus to remain on only his eyes. 

"I wish it was better than some broken down car-" 

"It's perfect. Because..." You lined him up to your sex, slowly sinking onto him as you teased an answer. 

"It's you..." You tried to rise again before he latched that arm tighter around you. 

"Get in the back. Panties off." 

"JJ-" 

"I might not be able to give you a five star hotel and a fireplace or anything like that, but I can make it more comfortable than this. Besides...I wanna see that ass climb over the console for me...." He playfully slapped your ass as you obeyed, looking back at him as a preview of how you would look at him if he decided to take you from behind. It made his jaw clenched at the way your eyes fell to his, all while you obeyed and waited for him in the back. 

Keeping his pants in the front, he crawled behind as your fingers were quick to work the plaid shirt and tee beneath free from his chest while he was left in only his boxers. Without a word, he let you explore him completely for your liking. Fingers pulling at him, he smirked before you withdrew him from his boxers and began to lower your mouth towards him. 

"I want to know how you taste, JJ." His eyes darkened hollow. 

"Like you." He reminded as you bit your bottom lip. 

"I wanna find out for myself..." His hand pulled around your hair as it tried to block him from the view of you taking him so expertly. A soft but warm tongue across his slit having collected his precum and taken if for yourself, the tang of yourself ignored in contrast to that of his own, while you felt him twitch to the moan you made as you extended him past your cheeks sucked for his pleasure. 

"Sweetheart-" You quickened, his second hand now leading to your jaw to force you to give him. But as he tried to claim some type of dominance, your hand continued to please him. 

"Yes, JJ? Something wrong? You don't want me to stop, do you, JJ?" You teased as he only answered with a roll of his eyes. 

"Fuck..." 

"I wanna make you feel good..." He groaned, a hand wrapping over your ass as he basked over the naked skin for just a moment before allowing you the reprieve of his fingers filling your sex. One ringed digit at a time, at home in the clench of you. 

"JJ..." 

"Get on top, baby...I want you to ride me until I can make you come-" 

"Wait..." You moved back into his hand, "That feels so good JJ...I could come like this..." He groaned. 

"I wanna make you come every fucking way...and I will. But I need to feel you around me. Please...I need-" You wrapped your lips back around him, but only for lubrication to prepare him for you as he was larger than what you were used to. 

"Shit-" He cursed while you moved back over him in a straddle. But the second your walls accepted him, his hands were at your ass to pull you even deeper. 

"Oh my God! You're so fucking good to me...Shit!" He quickened you before stowing enough to warm your chilled skin by his touch. Hands gluttonous for your chest and the exposure of your breasts would make you gasp as he took your nipples behind his teeth. One at a time as you moaned to the sucking and nibbles left behind by him. 

"JJ...plesse..." 

"Fuck, I wanna last-" 

"I can't! You're too deep..." 

"If you don't slow down-" 

"Make me come JJ...I'm SO close!" But suddenly you were stilled, flipped onto all fours as you were reliant on the console of the car as he positioned himself inside of you from behind once again. 

"You want me to fuck you, princess? You want me to make you come" 

"JJ.. I'm so close....PLEASE!" He pulled your hair slightly, "Harder!" He obliged. Harder thrusts and a tighter grip making you moan. 

"You're mine, sweetheart. There's no denying it after this...these windows steamed with how heavy you're breathing for me...sest stained with how hard I'm about to make you come...My best friend...about to come for me..." He scoffed before this fell into a groan. 

"Oh God, I'm close..." You purposely clenched around him, bringing him closer to his edge as he forced your lips against his at a cruel angle that deepened the pleasure allowed between your thighs by his dominant hand rubbing at your clit. 

"Yeah that's right princess, let me fucking have it...let me fucking-oh shit!" 

"JJ!" You were in a specific still that made every motion he made sensational to your bliss. Every breath and flex, even as he pulled from you to make you face him, everything was deeper and longer as it had come from him. 

"Come here..." He pulled you to recline against his chest, leading you to rest with your back to his chest as you basked in the rush of his heart felt at war against your skin. 

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" You turned to face him, "That you wanted this..." 

"Because I was afraid you didn't..." 

"And now since you know?" 

"Well it does give me some ideas on how to stay warm... who knows how long we'll be trapped out here..." 

"I could definitely think of worse ways to spend it..." He leaned down and kissed you softly, the kind of kiss that promised an encore of what had just happened. But prior to that, he would offer the most passionate of kisses as your fingers interlaced, a story written in the steam of the windows that night. 

A story of friends to lovers. 

A story of you and JJ…

@hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @camilynn @sweetestdesire @pankhoeforlife @pankowperfection @onmykneesforrafe @drews1love