#but he said he saw my light on so he knew he was in the clear

[monstersflashlight]

Commission for anon

Unexpected awakening

Minotaur (Ambrose) x chubby fem!reader || somno, oral sex, edging, orgasm denial, (very light) pet play

You woke up way too early because you had to pee, and for some reason you couldn’t get back asleep. So you stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours but was probably like 10 minutes. Your brain was too wired and you really wanted something to keep you focused and out of your nerves about the Christmas lunch in your in-laws. You already knew all of them, but it was the first time you’d have to face them all at once. So you were a bit more than nervous.

Ambrose shifted in his sleep, turning to you with his mouth open and a soft snore leaving his soft lips. He looked so handsome when he was asleep, you couldn’t contain yourself and had to press your thighs together not to reach down and touch yourself.

But then you had an idea.

He didn’t like that you touched yourself if he wasn’t watching… but he never said anything about touching him. You’d talked about somno a few times before, and both of you were very okay with it. The idea of your partner playing with you because they couldn’t wait till you were awake… that ignited a fire inside of you that made you groan softly, covering your mouth to avoid waking him.

You reached down and copped a feel of his already hard dick. He was always ready, you didn’t know how he did it but his stamina could easily match yours (which was saying a lot). You jerked him slowly, staring at his face as it contorted in pleasure. It was so hot you were already dripping wet.

You moved down the bed trying to be as careful as possible not to wake him. It wasn’t too hard because he was such a heavy sleeper you could probably drop a pan next to him and he would still be sleeping. But you were careful either way, the whole sneaking around thing making you hornier as you arrived to your destination.

Being face to face with his huge dick always left you speechless, he was so big… You were amazed he could fit inside of you at all. But he did, and it made you feel so good you saw whole galaxies. You licked the tip and he groaned, the sound urging you to go faster, already knowing he would wake up soon. You wrapped your lips around his tip and started sucking hard, going down as far as you could in one go and bobbing your head.

“Sunshine, fuck!” He cursed, almost waking up as he struggled. His dick twitched in your mouth and you groaned at the same time he did.

His hand flew to your head, tangling in your hair, and you hummed, making him open his eyes with a shout as he jerked under you. You smiled around his cock, looking up at him with a spark of mischief in your eyes. He blinked slowly and cursed a bunch more as you bobbed your head more.

He looked at you with unfocused eyes for a few more seconds until you felt his hand tightening in your hair, pulling softly and making you groan again. “You’ve been a very bad pet, haven’t you, sunshine?” He said, not letting you move. You nodded, his dick still in your mouth. “But dang… Your mouth,” he pushed as far as he could go and you choked around him. He rapidly pulled back, your eyes teary as the grin he sent your way made your pussy tingle. “Such a dirty slut, my little sunshine… If you wanted me to fuck your face you just needed to say so,” he said in the most sweet-fake voice ever.

And that’s all the warning you got before he was face-fucking you with all the intent. His hands were in your head, controlling your movements as he thrust in and out of your welcoming mouth. You groaned around him, your saliva dripping around him as he took his pleasure out of you.

He came with a shout, your name sounding like a prayer on his lips as he looked down at you like you held the moon. But it only lasted a second. His smirk and the glint of danger in his eyes rapidly replaced the softness. You sucked one more time, making him groan and frown at you.

He pulled you off by your hair, making you whine pathetically as his hand grabbed your chin. You directed your best puppy dog eyes at him, but he only chuckled. “Oh no, sunshine, that’s not going to save you now.”

He manhandled you onto your back, making you held your legs back as he stared at your clenching hole with a predatory smile. He looked you up and down for a bit, not doing anything, not saying anything, making your pulse leap as the anticipation built inside of you.

He took his phone and looked at the clock. “So… We are in a hurry, because we need to get ready to go meet my family.” You nodded, your pussy clenching around emptiness as he stared at your needy center. “I’m going to set an alarm, and I’m going to eat you out for…” he thought about it for a few seconds, “40 minutes.” You nodded eagerly. “BUT! You can’t come. Can you do that little slut? Can you be a good slutty human for me and not come for 40 minutes?” He asked rhetorically, a cruel grin in his face.

“I- I don’t know if I can,” you responded, already feeling on edge after being face-fucked by your minotaur.

“You can,” he simply affirmed. “And you wanna know why? Because that’s your only option if you want to come at all today,” he finished with a chuckle.

“Wha- what do you mean?” You asked, your voice trembling a bit. You wanted to come so bad you would do whatever he wanted as long as he let you come.

“I have a very special Christmas surprise for you… But you have to earn it. Only good pets get rewards and presents, don’t they?” His tone was amused and your brain short circuited for a second.

“Ngh… Yes.”

“Good pet,” he praised, making you preen with the attention. “Now smile,” he said as he directed the phone to you, taking a pic of your already messy face. You knew he wanted the comparison. A pic of you before and after he was done with you, and it only turned you on more. Fuck, he knew you so well. “Time starts ticking… now.” He pressed the time and went to town.

You thought he was going to play soft, maybe be a little more careful with you so you could at least try to hold on for 40 minutes. But that wouldn’t be as fun, would it? He went directly for it, flicking your clit with his big tongue, rubbing at your entrance with his thumb as you screamed his name.

He used all his tricks on you, his long rough tongue hitting every single pleasure point in and out of you as he played with you like you were nothing but his puppet. He was finger fucking you as his tongue was all over at once. You couldn’t even focus in one place because it was too much, too fast… everywhere.

You were chanting his name, your body going tense as you tried your best to hold on, but you were so close… “Ambrose. Ambrose, I’m gonna…” You tried to warn him, pulling on his horns as he chuckled against your center.

“Ts, ts, ts… Not yet,” he warned, pulling back for a few seconds until you could feel the orgasm slipping away from you.

Just to lean down and start doing it all over again.

He did that so many times you lost count of how many orgasms he denied you. You were panting, screaming and tearing up as he refused to let you come. You wanted to look at the clock, see how much you had to hold on, but he put it far away that you couldn’t take a peek. Fuck.

“Ambr- Ambrose… How much… How much longer?” You squealed between groans and whines. You felt like your whole body was an exposed nerve, and every touch of his hands or his tongue drove you to the edge. But he still didn’t let you come. Fuck.

He pulled back, his fingers pressing against your G-spot as he looked at the phone. “A few more minutes, sunshine. You are doing so well… Such a good slutty pet for me,” his praise made you twitch.

You were sure he said it to be comforting, but it only drove you closer to the edge as you screamed his name once again. Your throat felt raw already, and you couldn’t even think how fucked out you’d sound later today. You were going to meet his family and your voice is going to be fucked. Goddammit.

And then the alarm went off.

And you followed.

Your body exploded in a thousand tiny pieces. His cruel laugh following your orgasm as you convulsed under him and your pussy twitched uncontrollably around his fingers. His thumb never left your clit, rubbing it in the best possible way to make your orgasm reach new heights. One of his fingers rubbing your G-spot so insistently that your breath got caught in your lungs as you felt like a dam inside of you broke down and a gush of fluids left your pussy to hit him right in his stupidly pretty face.

You squirted all over him as he laughed in delight. You wanted to hate him for being so cocky, but you couldn’t hold any thought at all, your brain completely online as your body thrashed. When you came down from one of the most intense orgasms of your life, he was staring at you with wet fur and the biggest smile ever.

He grabbed the phone with his free hand and took a pic of you, turning the phone so you could see as he said proudly: “Look how pathetic you look, pet.” You blushed, embarrassment filling your tummy as he laughed at you once more. He kissed your sweaty forehead and turned all sweet when he asked: “Are you less nervous now?”

“Ngh,” you tried to respond, unable to focus enough to form words. Yeah. You were less nervous now, but the anticipation for his “special surprise” was higher than ever.

[sidneywasfound]

WHY NOT BOTH...? | Lando Norris x Oscar Piastri x Fem!Reader 🎁

Pairings: Oscar Piastri x Fem!Reader, Lando Norris x Fem!Reader,

Warnings; Lando being jelous because of Oscar and Reader,Reader being a brat,Smutt,Hair pulling/grabbing,threesome,Unprotected sex,Dirty talk,Oral (f recieving),Handjob,A scene inspired by the movie 'Challengers' hehe.

AUTHORS NOTE; MERRY CHRISTMAS GUYS, I know it's Christmas Eve,but I'm gonna give you the christmas present now ♡

English is not My first lenguage this may have some mistakes hehe

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You and Oscar don't have any kind of Shyness when it comes to Public displays of...love?...You used to get Comfortable in his lap while he was sitting on the couch,both watching tiktoks in his phone. All this kind of affection really Made Lando upset about the situation between You and him,At first you were flirting with him, and now you're sitting on Oscar's lap?. It is the last year christmas party that Max organized, everyone was chatting,eating something from the snacks,dancing...but lando was watching you both,laughing together,talking...He knew that Oscar did it secretly, but every time he laughed he hid his face in your neck to pretend he was trying to hide his laugh, but he is clever and Lando knew it,he just wanted to find a stupid excuse to feel your neck and Vanilla scent on his face and lips.

Later,People started to celebrate, dancing and doing parties stuff. Almost all the lights in the huge house were off except for some party lights. Lando lost sight of them, since Yuki had invited him to the karaoke that was in the other room. After a while he saw them,Sitting on the big couch, She was on Oscar's lap kissing him Passionately,With one hand resting on Oscar's cheek and the other grabbing the hair from the back of his head,pulling him wildly towards her while their tongues moved in each other's mouths, Oscar stared to move his hand towards your inner thigh making you lower your kisses to his neck and play with the hem of his sweatshirt. Lando was freezing,watching You and Oscar like some kind of fetish, Fascinated with the movements of your tongue, wishing to be the one who is kissing you aka Oscar Fucking Piastri.

Lando decided that this was enough teasing for the night,and when You went to the kitchen for a beverage he approached You ."Hey,are you busy?" Lando said leaning on the kitchen countertop,You looked at him in surprise as you poured yourself some coke."Are you that desperate...?" You said,and god he was dying,It was a pretty common thing of you,You were never with someone just to be with someone, You emanated superiority and power making yourself seem unreachable,and that made Oscar and Lando die to be with you,looking like two chihuahas humping to your leg for attention. "i'm not desperate." Lando said trying to be tough. "And why were you spying on me while i'm kissing Oscar? Or maybe you were spying on Oscar ? Don't worry, I'm not judging!" She said mockingly,a thing that also put the two of them in a shy and submissive mood. "Of course not!,but i'm done of being with him one day and me the next, is this a joke to You?" Lando said grabbing your arm and making eye contact with you ."maybe...If You guys stop being such bitches to me, we could make an arrangement between us..." Lando looked at you confused, "just...Okay Lando, I'll wait for you in the room upstairs... let's finish this quickly..." She went up the stairs and lando stood in the middle of the kitchen surprised.

Lando decided to wait a little before going upstairs,He had to mentally prepare himself to fuck her so good that she would have to stay with him for the next few days. He sat on the couch,beside Oscar and Charles. Oscar looked at him sideways in confusion and started using his phone. Instead Charles decided to talk to him "are You okay mate? You look kinda weird and nervous" Charles said with sympathy and his thick accent. " Yeah mate,just a tough night,isn't?" Lando says joking "Yeah,sure" Oscar says unexpectedly with pride without taking his eyes off the phone. Now Lando really wanted to hit him, "sure,Yuki beat us all at karaoke, it seems that he has a hidden talent!" Charles says innocently "You two should compete sometime,To see who is the Best and toughest of you haha!" Charles said naively,while Oscar and Lando look at each other smirking with pride in their imaginary competition.

Finally Lando decided it was time to enter the room,She was lying on the bed with her clothes disheveled,She was barefoot, a strap of her top fell revealing a part of her bra,Her skirt was a little raised, revealing her panties between her legs,Her hair was messy,Her breathing was Messy,making her chest rise with each breath, and making her tits press against her tight top. "Fuck,You are going to kill me..." Lando said feeling the bulge in his pants grow. He approached her kissing her desperately "Wait Lando...stop..." She said as he kissed her neck "what's...wrong?...?" He said in between Kisses,"We have to wait for Oscar...",She said making lando stop abruptly,moving away from your neck to look at you. "W-wha-?",he was interrumped by the sound of the Wooden door opening."My God, You gorgeous...teasing me all the night wha-..." Oscar came through the door, paralyzed with the view of your legs wide Open and Lando between them."What is Lando doing here?!" He said upset. She pulled Lando off her and sat on the edge of the bed. The two, Dazed, without asking quickly went to sit beside her, leaving her in the middle.

"it's just...i love You guys so much!..and...I can't resist having just one of You..." She said with a fake pout."Well,You have to decide...You can't keep teasing us like this..." Oscar said,putting a hand on your thigh. She remained silent,She raised her head looking at Oscar and approached his face,Their breaths touched, she caressed his cheek lightly,He put a hand on her waist. She brought her lips closer and made them touch Oscar's,With their mouths half open,Slowly and slightly she began to put the tip of her tongue in his mouth,making him grab the back of her head to kiss her Passionately,Her tongue played his tongue, while he devoured her lips making obscene noises. Lando was dumbfounded,Looking at Oscar with jealousy while she lightly touched his inner thigh. She slowly separated from him while he looked at her enamorated with his mouth half open, leaving a thread of saliva between their lips.

Lando was silent ,thinking that he had already lost his chance until she turned to him. She came closer and started kissing him desperately, in a completely different way than how she kissed Oscar. Lando brought her closer to him, putting his tongue in her mouth and kissing her lips that let out soft moans. She started to put a hand under his shirt but stopped and separated from him, staying back in the middle. The two looked at each other waiting for her to decide, but she remained silent without saying anything.She looked at them flirtatiously smiling,"Why not both?".She began to take off her top, revealing her bra that they were wanting to see so bad. Without hesitating any longer, the two coordinated at the same time to kiss her neck on both sides,She moaned and grabbed both of their heads, lifting her head to give them space.

She started kissing desperately Oscar while unbuckling Lando's pants. From one moment to the next, Oscar appear between your legs lifting your skirt to kiss the Slim fabric of your underwear. You let out a moan that echoed on Lando's lips making him harder,You put your hand in his pants to take out his member stroking it. Oscar pulled down your underwear to give a lick to your cunt. You moaned lightly after this, moving your hand faster making Lando whimper too. Oscar started to move his tongue between your folds,Licking your clit and sticking his tongue as deep as he could. Lando lowered his hand to your cunt to start rubbing your clit,Leaving Oscar with less things to lick. You moaned as you kissed Lando with your hand squeezing and moving up and down his length. "I-im ah..." Lando couldn't finish his sentence when he felt his orgasm coming, leaving only a very pornographic moan. Staining his abdomen and a little of your hand. You grabbed Oscar's hair and pulled it, moaning as you felt your orgasm coming "ah Oscar!..." Luckily you didn't finish so you pushed him towards you, leaving him on top of you, making his member touch your crotch.

"Come on Lando...if you position yourself correctly I can suck you off..." You said while kissing Oscar but Lando was defeated on the side of the bed "Calm down guys, I already fucked her yesterday...I'm exhausted" Oscar laughed and you blushed when you heard that. "H-hey!,I just wanted to include you know..." Lando looked at her "Well next time we do this I'll fuck you." Oscar lined up and slowly entered you, letting out a moan from both of you. "Wait...again?,You're okay with that?" Lando looked at you pretending to stop and think,While Oscar began to thrust into You making You moan, And cling to his back "As long as I can enjoy watching you get fucked this good then I don't care." Lando said watching as Oscar rammed into you wildly,You just rolled your eyes."looks like The little slut's game went wrong" Lando said mocking You."She was trying to make us jealous and now she's like the obedient whore",Oscar said thrusting you faster.

You felt the wave of pleasure pass over you and you moaned as you felt Oscar finish inside you.The three of You lay on the bed face up, both of them lying on her tits, The music of the party was loud but isolated."Do you think this relationship will work?" She said, Lando and Oscar looked at each other. "If we continue like this, I hope it lasts forever" Oscar said laughing,You and Lando smiled, you were about to talk when you heard a familiar voice outside the door.

"Yes and I hope You guys clean the room and the sheets after this!"no other one but Max Verstappen shouted at them from outside his room.

"shit" The three of them said seeing all the clothes thrown all over the room.

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Tags: @that-one-little-soybean

[eu-nicola]

the fastest driver part 3

summary: you are a young and talented driver, who begins your journey in Formula 1 with Ferrari. despite your undeniable ability, you are constantly relegated to the background due to the Scuderia's strategies, which always favor your teammate, Charles Leclerc

warnings: take of pills

word counter: 7364

author's note: english is not my first language, this is from an amazing request, thanks for the comments ��

tags: @ilovechickenwings @amortentiaaaa @ananyasribughead @supertrashbread @amalialeclerc @rawr-123s-stuff @wierdflowerpower @malvikareader @freyathehuntress @sweetmuffynsblog @vjbillno

Endless hours passed after the accident before the first clear update about your condition reached the media and the paddock. Everyone was anxiously waiting for news about your health. The uncertainty left fans, journalists, and especially those who truly knew you in a state of tense anticipation.

Finally, a statement from the hospital's medical team brought some relief: you were stable and conscious. While initial tests had ruled out serious spinal injuries or significant fractures, the impact had been severe, leaving you with a moderate concussion and several internal bruises that required monitoring. What concerned the doctors most were the potential psychological and emotional aftereffects: the nature of the crash, the impact, and all the built-up stress could take a toll later.

Hours later, you woke up in a hospital room softly lit by the afternoon light. Everything was quiet except for the rhythmic beeping of the monitor beside your bed. Your body felt heavy, like it was filled with lead, and the headache was sharp and constant. As your eyes adjusted to the light, you noticed someone sitting nearby.

It was Charles. He was there, his hands clasped in front of his mouth, as if praying or just trying to calm his own nerves. When he saw you stir slightly, he lifted his head, and his expression changed a mix of relief and worry crossed his face.

“You’re awake,” he said softly, as if he didn’t want to scare you. “Thank God.”

You hadn’t expected to see him there. In fact, you hadn’t expected to see anyone. And yet, here he was.

“Charles…” you tried to speak, but your voice came out as barely a whisper.

“Shhh, don’t talk too much. The doctors said you need to rest.”

“What are you doing here?” you asked, ignoring his warning, even though just talking felt like needles stabbing your skull.

He shrugged, offering a light but sincere smile.  

“Someone had to make sure you were okay.”

Charles stayed by your side for hours, even when the doctors came in and out to check on you. He answered questions from the journalists crowding outside the hospital, desperate for a statement, and refused requests from photographers trying to get a shot of you. There was something unusually warm and protective about the way he acted.

As you lay back, eyes closed to avoid making the headache worse, you heard his voice.

“You scared me, you know? I’ve never seen anything so…” He paused, searching for the right word. “So violent. Not since Jules. And when I saw the crash on the screen, I thought the worst.”

You opened your eyes and looked at him. There was sincerity in his face, something you hadn’t expected.

“I’m okay… sort of.” You tried to joke, but the pain turned it into a grimace.

“No, you’re not okay. But you will be. You have to be.”

As Charles stayed with you, messages started pouring in. Your phone sat on the bedside table, just out of reach, and Charles offered to read some.

“Everyone’s worried about you. Here’s one from Lando… and even one from Toto. Seems like the entire F1 world is waiting for you to get better.”

“Who else?” you asked, almost dreading the answer.

Charles scrolled through, his expression hardening briefly before softening again.

“Max,” he said simply.

Your heart stopped for a moment. You didn’t know what to expect. Since the accident, you’d assumed Max was too caught up in his own world to care, but the fact that he’d written at all was enough to twist your stomach.

“What does it say?” you asked, trying to sound indifferent, though you knew Charles could see right through you.

He hesitated before answering.

“‘Hope you’re okay. Sorry I wasn’t there sooner. Let me know if you need anything.’”

The neutrality of the words didn’t match the intensity of what you felt hearing them. You closed your eyes, trying to process it all. What did that message even mean? Was it just courtesy, or was there something more behind those words?

Charles noticed your discomfort and set the phone aside.

“You don’t have to reply if you don’t want to.”

“I won’t,” you said quickly, though part of you knew that wasn’t true.

As night fell, Charles finally said goodbye, promising to return the next day. There was something comforting about his presence, how he’d set aside any competitiveness or formality just to be there for you. Yet, when you were left alone, the thoughts began to overwhelm you.

The crash, the messages, the worries it all tangled into a mess of emotions you couldn’t unravel. The only thing clear was that while you were physically stable, emotionally, you were far from okay.

After that day in the hospital, Charles became a constant presence in your life. His support wasn’t limited to encouraging messages or occasional visits. He went beyond that. Where others saw a moral obligation or an opportunity to score points with the media, he saw something else: a chance to show you that you weren’t alone.  

The medical team made it clear you could return to racing, but not without certain restrictions. You had to stick to a strict combination of medications after every race: anti-inflammatories, painkillers, and supplements to manage the physical and mental stress you still felt after the accident. Charles was the first person to offer to help you with this. It wasn’t his responsibility, but he seemed to take on the role without hesitation.  

The first race after the accident was a mental and physical challenge. As you prepared to get back in the cockpit, fear swirled in your chest. The accident was fresh in your memory, and even though you knew you were capable, there was a shadow of doubt you couldn’t shake.  

The day before the race, Charles showed up at your hotel. He had a small bag in hand and a calm expression, almost as if it was meant to soothe you.  

"I thought you might need this," he said, placing the bag on the table.  

Inside, there was a box of relaxing tea, a small book about mental strategies in sports, and a handwritten note. When you opened it, you found a simple phrase: "You’re stronger than you think."  

"Thank u," you said, moved by the gesture.  

"You don’t have to thank me. I just want you to know I’m here, okay? If you need to talk, if you need anything..."  

You nodded, grateful for his sincerity. For a long time, you’d felt alone in this world. It was strange to realize someone was willing to stand by your side without asking for anything in return.  

Race day was a whirlwind. Even though you tried to stay calm, every time you sat in the car, the memory of the crash resurfaced. You gripped the steering wheel tightly, reminding yourself you’d done this thousands of times before, that you were capable��one of the best.  

The race wasn’t easy, but you finished in a solid fifth place, a result any other driver would’ve considered a success under the circumstances. When you got out of the car, exhausted but relieved, Charles was the first to approach you.  

"Well done," he said, patting your shoulder.  

After every race, Charles made sure you followed the medical protocol. Sometimes, when you forgot the pills, he’d show up holding the box, reminding you that your health came first.  

"How do you even know I haven’t taken them?" you asked one day, half-joking.  

"Because I know you well enough to know you hate depending on this stuff," he said with a smile, handing you the water and pills.  

It was strange how his presence had gone from sporadic to constant. He wasn’t just there for the serious moments; he also found ways to make you laugh, to lighten the weight on your shoulders.  

It wasn’t something you’d planned or even imagined after everything you’d been through, but your friendship with Charles was good for you. So much so that you felt comfortable asking him something after noticing he’d been off for a while. You’d seen his behavior become quieter than usual, even in the paddock, where he usually managed to keep up appearances in front of the cameras.  

"Are you okay? You seem... off."  

His response came almost immediately.  

"Do you have time to talk?"  

You invited him to your place, where you saw a different side of Charles. He’d shed his usual composure and looked... vulnerable, almost like the facade he kept in public had cracked.  

"Thanks for this," he said, sitting on the small couch as you handed him a bottle of water.  

"You don’t have to thank me, Charles. What’s going on?"  

He sighed, fiddling with the cap of the bottle before speaking.  

"It’s... complicated. Ferrari doesn’t feel like my team anymore."  

You frowned, surprised by his words.  

"What do you mean?"  

"Since Lewis joined this year, everything changed. I knew it would be different, it’s Lewis Hamilton, of course but I didn’t think it’d be like this," he confessed, his voice low, almost a whisper. "I feel like everything revolves around him. The strategies, the resources, even the engineers’ attention... It’s like I’m a shadow in my own team."  

You felt a pang in your chest hearing that. It was almost an exact replica of what you’d felt when you shared a team with him at Ferrari.  

"Charles... you don’t know how much I get it," you said, sitting across from him. "That feeling of being invisible, like your efforts don’t matter... I went through the same thing with you."  

He looked up, surprised by your honesty.  

"Really?"  

"Yeah. Do you remember all those team orders? All those moments where no matter how fast I was, they always put me aside to favor you. It’s... frustrating. It makes you question everything you do."  

Charles nodded slowly, processing your words.  

"I guess I never saw it from your perspective. I always thought the team’s decisions were fair, but now... now I know what it feels like."  

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees.  

"Charles, I know how hard this is. But what you need to remember is that your talent doesn’t depend on them. Ferrari is just one team, one stage in your career—it doesn’t define who you are as a driver."  

"How did you deal with it?" he asked, genuinely curious.  

"At first, I didn’t," you admitted. "I kept everything inside, let the frustration eat me up... until I couldn’t take it anymore. But I learned something: you can’t let them take away what you love about this sport. If Ferrari doesn’t value you the way they should, then prove your worth on the track. Force them to see you."  

Charles nodded slowly, as if your words were beginning to sink in.  

"It’s easier said than done," he said, with a bitter smile.  

"I know. But I also know you have the talent to do it."  

The conversation went on for hours, shifting from serious topics to shared memories and stories from your days at Ferrari. It was strange, but comforting, to share that space with him. He’d gone from being the rival who overshadowed you at your lowest to someone you could fully trust.  

When he finally stood to leave, Charles paused at the door and looked at you with an expression you hadn’t seen before.  

"Thank you for this. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you."  

"I’m always here. You know that."  

As the door closed behind him, you couldn’t help but smile. Charles was so much more than you’d ever thought. And somehow, he’d brought out the best in you too.

While you were helping Charles find his way in a team that relegated him to second place, you couldn’t ignore the fact that your own demons were still lurking. And, as if that wasn’t enough, Max remained a constant presence both on the track and in your personal life.  

Since your move to McLaren, the rivalry with Max had reached a new level. If before you shared moments of camaraderie and confidences, now every interaction was loaded with tension. And not just on the track.  

The championship was on fire. You and Max were leading the standings, swapping first and second place race after race. On every circuit, every corner, and every straight, it felt like only the two of you existed. It didn’t matter who else made it to the podium; the battle was always between you and him.  

During qualifying, both of you pushed to the limit, but an incident in Q3 left Max without a lap time. As soon as he got out of the car, Max stormed straight toward you, visibly furious.  

“What the hell was that?” he snapped, his voice sharp as he closed the distance between you in the paddock.  

“What was what?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, though you knew exactly what he was referring to.  

“You blocked me on my flying lap.”  

“Max, you were too far behind when I started my lap. I didn’t block you.”  

“Of course you did!” he insisted, stepping even closer. His blue eyes burned with a mix of frustration and something else you couldn’t quite place.  

The argument caught the attention of journalists and members of both teams. You knew that one wrong word could make headlines the next day, so you chose to stay calm.  

“If you have a problem, take it up with the stewards, not me,” you said before turning and walking away, leaving Max with the words stuck in his throat.  

But the tension wasn’t confined to the track. It had started to bleed into your personal lives. Even though both of you tried to avoid each other outside of race weekends, coincidences were inevitable especially at sponsor events or official meetings.  

At one of these events, an FIA gala in Monaco, Max couldn’t resist looking for you in the crowd. When he finally spotted you, you were talking to Charles, laughing at something he’d said. The sight seemed to ignite something in Max, and he couldn’t hold back as he approached.  

“Can we talk?” he asked, cutting into the conversation.  

Charles glanced at you, his expression a mix of curiosity and caution, before stepping back to let you decide.  

“What do you want, Max?” you asked, trying to keep your voice neutral.  

“You and Charles, what’s going on between you two?” he asked quietly, though his tone carried an accusatory edge.  

“What kind of question is that?” you replied, crossing your arms.  

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m losing it, but… every time I see you two together, I can’t help thinking that…”  

“That what?” you interrupted, annoyed. “That maybe someone else can actually support me and understand me in this chaos that you chose to ignore?”  

Max pressed his lips together, clearly feeling the sting of your words. But instead of responding, he looked away and muttered:  

“You still know how to twist everything around.”  

The conversation was left unfinished, but the night didn’t end there. Later, as you tried to avoid him, you found Max alone on the terrace of the venue, staring out at the sea, his figure illuminated by the lights.  

“Why do you do this?” you asked, walking toward him. Your tone was no longer defiant but tired.  

“Do what?” he asked without looking at you.  

“Show up, disappear, demand things from me that you can’t even give yourself. You’re still with her, and yet…”  

Max closed his eyes, as if your words were too heavy to bear.  

“I don’t know how to handle this,” he admitted finally, turning to face you. “You and me… I don’t know how to handle it.”  

“Then maybe you should stop trying,” you said, though your voice cracked at the end.  

The silence between you was deafening. Too many unsaid emotions, too many decisions both of you refused to make. Finally, Max stepped back.  

“It’s easier said than done, isn’t it?”  

And with that, he left, leaving you alone on the terrace, feeling like the two of you were trapped in a vicious cycle neither of you knew how to escape.  

In the days that followed, you tried to focus on racing and your friendship with Charles, who had become a kind of refuge in the chaos. But every time you saw Max, every time your eyes met in the paddock, you felt the storm lingering, waiting for the right moment to break again.  

The rivalry on the track only grew more intense. Max and you raced as if every race was the last, as if the championship depended on who was stronger, more determined, more ruthless. But off the track, you both continued to grapple with the same internal conflict: what you felt for each other and what the world expected of you.  

You and Max were the top contenders for the title, and every race turned into a war. The media called it “the battle of the century,” comparing it to the legendary Senna-Prost rivalry. Every overtake, every strategy, every word in a press conference was scrutinized.  

At the Brazilian Grand Prix, things came to a head. From the first lap, the fight between you and Max was fierce. You knew every one of his tricks, every weakness, every strength. There were moments when the cars seemed to touch, pushing the limits of competition to the extreme.  

On lap 43, you attempted an overtake on the inside of Turn 1, but Max, in his trademark aggressive style, shut the door almost recklessly. Your front tires brushed his, and though both of you managed to maintain control, the incident was enough to set off commentators and social media.  

“This is unacceptable!” your engineer shouted over the radio. “We’re reporting it.”  

But you didn’t want to win the championship through a penalty.  

“Leave it. I’ll settle it on the track,” you said, with a determination that surprised even yourself.  

In the end, you finished second, behind Max, but the battle was epic. Fans were divided, some siding with you, others defending Max. But in your mind, one thought started to take root: maybe you’d had enough of this world.  

After that race, you decided to take a break. You flew back to your hometown to spend time with your family, seeking comfort in their presence. One night, sitting in the garden of your parents’ house, you opened up to your mom.  

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” you admitted, staring at the stars. “Every race feels like a battle not just on the track, but inside me, too.”  

Your mom, always wise and patient, looked at you with gentle understanding.  

“Then why do you keep going?”

You stayed silent for a moment, searching for the words.  

“Because it’s all I’ve ever known. Since I was a kid, my entire world has revolved around racing. But lately… lately, I feel like I want something more. I want a normal life, a family. I want to stop fighting all the time.”

“What’s stopping you?.”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I don’t know what that life would look like, or who it would be with.”

It was the first time you’d said those words out loud. The idea of giving up Formula 1, of walking away from everything you’d worked so hard for, was terrifying but also freeing.  

You couldn’t help but think of Max. Even though your relationship was broken, and the rivalry had reached its peak, there was still something about him pulling you in. But the question that haunted you was: did he feel the same?  

Max was still with his partner, at least publicly. But his actions, his looks, even his comments during races, hinted at something more. Could you build a life with someone who seemed incapable of facing his own feelings?  

“Maybe it’s not Max,” you muttered to yourself that night, curled up on the couch in your childhood bedroom. “Maybe it’s someone else. Or maybe I just need to find myself first.”

When you returned to the paddock for the US Grand Prix, something had shifted inside you. You hadn’t made any final decisions, but you knew this chapter of your life was nearing its end. Still, as long as you were in F1, you were going to give it everything you had.  

In the pre-race interviews, journalists bombarded you with questions about your rivalry with Max.  

“Is it personal?,” one of them asked with a sly grin.  

“Everything in Formula 1 is personal,” you replied with a wry smile, offering no further explanation.  

Max, sitting next to you at the press conference, shot you a sideways glance but said nothing. The tension between you two was palpable, even in front of the cameras.  

That race turned into yet another head-to-head battle between the two of you. During the final laps, the radio chatter grew more intense.  

“He’s losing rear grip. Push him.”

“I already am!,” you snapped, pushing the car to its limit.  

In the last lap, you pulled off a risky overtake that left everyone stunned. You won the race, and as you stepped out of the car, you felt a mix of euphoria and exhaustion.  

While celebrating with your team, your thoughts drifted back to your conversation with your mom. Maybe this was the ending you’d been searching for, or maybe it was just the start of something new.  

Max watched you from the podium, his blue eyes filled with something you couldn’t decipher. In the crowd, you couldn’t help but wonder: could you ever leave it all behind, even him?  

The next race, under the scorching Qatar sun, felt heavier, both in the air and in the paddock. Everything about this second-to-last race of the season felt like a countdown to something inevitable. You and Max were tied in points, both neck and neck after a season of epic battles, controversies, and moments that had pushed you to the edge emotionally.  

The tension in the McLaren garage was palpable. Though your relationship with your team was excellent, you knew the pressure was on you. Lando tried to lighten the mood with his usual sense of humor, but even his energy couldn’t cut through the wall of your thoughts.  

“Come on, don’t be so serious. We could both use a win today,” he joked while adjusting his gloves.  

“Sure, but if you win, I won’t complain,” you replied with a faint smile, though you both knew that wasn’t true. This race meant everything to you.  

Meanwhile, Charles had sent a message that morning: ‘Remember, one race at a time. You can do this. You’ve already proven you’re the best.’ His unwavering support had become one of the few things keeping you mentally afloat during this emotional rollercoaster.  

From qualifying, it was clear this race would be another direct battle between you and Max. Both of you blocked every attempt the other made to set the fastest time, ending up on the front row: Max on pole, you in second.  

The start was clean but intense. From the first corner, Max showed his usual aggression, shutting you out in an attempt to stay ahead. But you knew this game; he had taught you how to play it. You used the slipstream on the main straight, and on lap five, you overtook him with a surgical move in turn 6.  

For a moment, the world seemed to stop as you led the race, but you knew the real battle had just begun.  

Midway through the race, things heated up. Teams began to play with strategies, and tire choices became crucial. On lap 32, as you exited the pits after a tire change, Max appeared beside you. The overtake that followed was so tight the two cars brushed slightly, sparking an explosion of shouting over the radio.  

“That was way too close!,” your engineer protested, but you were too focused to respond.  

Max didn’t back down. In the following laps, he kept relentless pressure on you, looking for any weakness in your defense. On lap 48, he attempted an inside overtake on a tight corner, but you managed to hold your position with a move that left everyone on the edge of their seats.  

In the final laps, your mind was torn between the adrenaline of the race and the mental exhaustion you’d been carrying all season. Max was glued to your diffuser, but he made a small mistake on the second-to-last corner, giving you just enough of a margin to cross the finish line first.  

Your team’s shout over the radio was deafening:  

“Victory! You’re incredible, what a race!.”

But you didn’t have time to celebrate. As you parked the car in parc fermé, reality hit you: this victory only meant you were still tied in points, and everything would come down to the final race.  

The journalists were in a frenzy. In the post-race press conference, the questions came at you like bullets.  

“How do you handle the pressure heading into the last race?.”

“Calmly. One race at a time.” you replied, echoing Charles’ words, even though calm was the last thing you felt.  

Max, sitting beside you, spoke after you.  

“I always knew this season would be decided in the end. I’m ready for it.”

His gaze met yours for a second, and in that brief moment, the tension between you two felt more personal than ever.  

Back at the hotel, you tried to disconnect, but it was impossible. Your mind raced, replaying every detail of the race and anticipating what was to come. Charles called to congratulate you but also to remind you to rest.  

“Don’t let this consume you, okay?,” he said, his tone serious but kind. “You’ve done an amazing job, and you have everything you need to win.”

“Thanks, Charles. Really. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I don’t know what you’d do without me either,” he joked, managing to make you laugh.

However, when you hung up, you kept staring at the ceiling of your room, wondering if you were truly ready to face everything the final race was about to bring.  

Even though you hadn’t seen Max since the press conference, you knew he was just as restless as you. Despite everything that had happened between you two, you couldn’t help but think about him, about how this rivalry had consumed everything you once shared.  

Is this really what you wanted? To keep fighting, keep competing, keep losing yourself in the process?  

You closed your eyes, trying to calm your thoughts. Just one race left. One final battle. And after that, maybe you’d finally have the answers you’d been searching for.  

The last week of the season was a whirlwind of emotions, preparations, and a tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. The entire paddock was on edge. Everything would be decided in Abu Dhabi.  

Escaping the media’s attention was impossible. Cameras followed you everywhere, looking for any reaction that could turn into a headline. The atmosphere at McLaren was optimistic but tense. You’d brought the team to its highest point in years, and that was already a monumental achievement. But for you, it wasn’t enough. You wanted that title.  

During the press conferences, the questions were relentless. You and Max were the center of attention. Though both of you kept calm outwardly, the discomfort between you was obvious. Every word, every gesture was analyzed by the journalists.  

“How do you feel heading into this decisive race?” they asked you during one of the press rounds.  

“Focused. This is what we’ve worked for all year. I just want to do my job and see what happens,” you replied diplomatically, though inside your heart was racing.  

Max, sitting next to you, simply said:  

“I’m focused too. We both know what’s at stake. May the best win.”  

There was a moment when your eyes met, but it was fleeting. There were so many words left unsaid between you, and the weight of that silence felt unbearable.  

In the final strategy meeting with your team, the tension was palpable. You knew every decision would matter, every detail could be the difference between winning and losing. Your race engineer, always meticulous, reviewed the plans calmly, but even you could tell he was nervous.  

“I believe in you. You’ve proven you can do this,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder before you left the garage.  

Lando, on the other hand, tried to lighten the mood with a joke.  

“If you don’t win, can I keep the consolation trophy?” he said with a cheeky grin.  

“There won’t be a consolation trophy,” you replied with a smirk.  

That day, Yas Marina Circuit was lit up like a jewel in the desert, and the atmosphere was electric. Before getting in the car, you took a moment for yourself. You took a deep breath, closed your eyes, and visualized every corner, every move. You knew you had to give it everything.  

The anthem played, and the world seemed to pause for a moment. Max was beside you on the grid. Though you didn’t speak, you could feel his presence, his energy. You both knew this race wasn’t just about the championship but also everything that had happened between you.  

The start was flawless. From the first corner, you and Max were locked in an intense battle. Neither of you gave an inch. Every lap was a fight, every overtake a statement. The rest of the drivers might as well have been racing in a different category; it was as if this championship was meant to be decided between just the two of you.  

On lap 35, a slow pit stop almost cost you the race, but you quickly recovered, overtaking Max in a spectacular move on lap 42. The crowd went wild.  

But Max wasn’t going to give up. On lap 50, he took the lead back, forcing you slightly off the track. It was an aggressive move, but clean—classic Max.  

In the final five laps, both of you were at the limit. Your hands trembled slightly from the adrenaline, but your focus was unshakable. In the penultimate lap, you found a gap on the main straight and passed Max on the inside. This time, he had no answer.  

When you crossed the finish line, the world seemed to stop for a moment before exploding in celebration. You’d done it. You were a world champion.  

Your team screamed over the radio, their voices full of tears and joy.  

“You’re the world champion! You did it!”  

As you climbed out of the car, the emotions overwhelmed you. Your team surrounded you, celebrating. Lando was one of the first to hug you, shouting:  

“I told you! I knew you’d do it!”  

As you stood with your team, your eyes instinctively searched for Max. He was there, watching you from a distance. Slowly, he approached, his steps a mix of pride and resignation.  

When he reached you, he extended his hand.  

“Congratulations,” he said, his voice calm but heavy with emotion.  

“Thanks, Max,” you replied, shaking his hand. For a moment, his eyes reflected something that looked like regret, but he said nothing more. He turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.  

That night was magical. There was laughter, tears, toasts. The tension of the entire season melted away in a whirlwind of emotions. Charles called to congratulate you, and his genuine happiness was like a balm to your heart.  

“I knew you could do it. I’m so proud of you,” he said, his voice full of sincerity.  

As the celebration went on, you took a moment to reflect. You’d reached the pinnacle of the world, but you knew this was just the beginning of a new chapter in your life. The future was full of uncertainty, but that night, you decided to enjoy the present, savoring every moment of your triumph.  

The emotional hangover the next day was overwhelming. It wasn’t physical, nor from the celebration, but a deep emptiness you hadn’t expected to feel after achieving the dream of your life. You’d won the Formula 1 World Championship, the peak of your career, but instead of feeling complete, you felt lost.

You woke up in your hotel room, sunlight streaming through the curtains. Around you, there were remnants of the celebration: a half-empty champagne glass on the table, the dress you wore last night carelessly thrown over a chair. The trophy, shiny and imposing, sat on the nightstand, but as you looked at it, you didn’t feel the euphoria you’d imagined for years.  

You got up and walked to the mirror. The reflection staring back at you was different from the one you were used to. It wasn’t just the physical exhaustion from the season; it was something deeper a sense of disconnect with yourself.  

You spent the morning avoiding your phone, even though you knew the notifications had to be flooding in. Messages of congratulations, articles from the media, videos of the highlights... but you weren’t ready to face it yet. Instead of feeling celebrated, you felt isolated.  

The idea had been lingering in your mind for weeks, maybe even months. The crash, the endless emotional struggles, the pressure to always be the best... it had all left its mark. And now, after achieving what you’d always dreamed of, you realized something: you didn’t want to keep going anymore.  

During breakfast with your parents, you decided to share your thoughts. You’d avoided bringing it up before, afraid of their reactions, but now felt like the right time.  

“I’ve been thinking about something... important,” you said, breaking the silence while fiddling with your coffee mug.  

Your mom looked at you with concern.  

“Are you okay? Does this have to do with Formula 1?”  

You shook your head.  

“No… well, partly, yes. Like I said, I’ve been reflecting, and I think... I don’t want to keep racing anymore.”  

The silence that followed was heavy. Your dad, ever the pragmatic one, was the first to speak.  

“Are you sure? You’ve worked your whole life for this.”  

“I know, Dad. But I’ve also given it everything I had. And now I feel like if I keep going, it’ll just be out of habit, not because I really want to.”  

Your mom took your hand.  

“We’ve always wanted you to be happy, no matter what you do. If you feel this is the time to stop, we’ll support you.”  

That conversation was the turning point. Over the following days, you talked to your team, Lando, and even Charles, who, although surprised, understood your decision. Lando tried to convince you to stay for one more year.  

“Are you really going to leave me here alone? We were just starting to have fun!” he joked, though there was genuine sadness in his eyes.  

“It’s your time, Lando. I’m sure you’ll do amazing things,” you replied, hugging him.  

Charles, on the other hand, was more serious.  

“I didn’t see this coming, but I get it. Just… promise me you won’t disappear completely.”  

“I won’t. I’ll always be here, even if it’s just as a spectator.”  

That same night, after hours of figuring out how to word it, you sat in front of the camera in your room. You were nervous, not about the decision, but about how the world would react. You wore a simple t-shirt, your hair tied back. You wanted the message to be honest, without distractions.  

‘Hi, everyone. I know this isn’t the video you were expecting after the incredible season we just had, but I wanted to share something important with you...’

You took a deep breath before continuing.  

‘I’ve decided to retire from Formula 1. This year has been the most exciting but also the most exhausting of my life. Winning the championship was a dream come true, but it also made me realize it’s time to close this chapter and start a new one.’

You paused, letting your words sink in.  

‘This wasn’t an easy decision. Formula 1 has been my life for so many years that I barely remember what it was like before. But I also know I want other things. I want time for myself, for my family, to explore who I am outside of this sport.’

Your voice wavered slightly, but you kept going.  

‘I want to thank my team, my teammates, my rivals, and, of course, the fans. Without your support, none of this would’ve been possible.’

When you finished, you turned off the camera and fell onto the bed. It wasn’t immediate relief, but there was something freeing about putting an end to that chapter.  

The video was released the next day and, as expected, caused a storm. The media debated your decision, fans flooded social media with messages of support and gratitude, and some even expressed disbelief.  

Charles sent you a text:  

“I saw it. I’m proud of you. You’ll do amazing things, no matter where you go.”  

And Max, who had avoided talking to you since the last race, also sent a short message:  

“You were the best. I always knew it. I hope you find what you’re looking for and that you forgive me.”  

Even though his words were few, they left a lump in your throat.  

That night, while staring at the stars from your balcony, you realized that, even though the future was uncertain, you were ready to face it.  

Weeks passed since your decision, and life finally seemed to find its rhythm. The constant noise of racing and the pressure to be the best slowly faded. But deep down, you felt like something or someone was still missing.  

Your house, now quieter than ever, became your sanctuary. You spent those days focusing on yourself, resting, discovering what you truly liked outside the track. But even in the peace of your own thoughts, Max lingered in your mind. He wasn’t a constant thought, but you’d remember him, especially when news of his breakup with his girlfriend started circulating. That, unexpectedly, stirred something in you, a knot in your stomach.  

Late one night, your phone buzzed. The name on the screen made you hesitate for a second. Max.  

The message was short, direct.  

“Can I see you? I need to talk to you.”  

You didn’t think much about it. You knew this conversation needed to happen eventually. You’d been avoiding it, but now it felt like the universe was putting it in your path.  

You agreed to meet at your house the next day, and when the door opened, there he was. Max, with that intense, direct gaze that had known you for years. Now, though, there was something different something more vulnerable.  

“Hi,” he said, his voice softer than usual.  

You invited him in, and he settled on the couch like it was his own home. The silence between you was heavy, filled with unresolved emotions.  

“I don’t know where to start,” he began, with a nervous smile.  

“Neither do I,” you replied, sitting across from him.  

The two of you just sat there, watching each other, waiting for the other to make the first move. Finally, Max spoke.  

“Breaking up with her... wasn’t easy. I knew it wasn’t fair, but I couldn’t keep lying to myself. The truth is… I never stopped thinking about you.”  

Your heart skipped a beat, and a lump formed in your throat. You didn’t know what to say. Max, always so sure of himself, seemed completely different now.  

“Max... I don’t know what you want me to say. We’ve been on such different paths. You… always so focused on F1, on competing… and me too. Things were never easy between us, and now… I don’t know if any of this makes sense.”  

He nodded, understanding what you meant.  

“I know. I’ve been an idiot. I thought I could keep everything under control, but in the end… I lost what mattered most.”  

He looked at you intently, and in his eyes was a sincerity that made you question everything you’d been thinking until that moment.  

“But that doesn’t mean I forgot about you. It doesn’t mean I don’t care about what we had. If anything, it’s taken me time to realize that… maybe there’s something here we never really figured out.”  

You stayed silent, processing his words. The tension was thick, but something in his voice made you want to listen, even though you knew the situation was complicated.  

“And what is it that you want, Max?” you asked, your voice a bit shaky.  

“I don’t know,” he admitted with a small, sad smile. “I’m not asking you to forgive me or to go back to what we had. But I think… we should at least try. Not now, not right away, but… maybe we can see what happens, without the pressures of F1, without everything that kept us apart.”  

You got up and walked to the window, staring outside without really seeing anything. Max watched you from the couch, waiting for your response. The atmosphere between you had shifted somehow, and for the first time, it felt like you had both let go of the fight to always be the best.  

You turned to look at him.  

“I’m not sure I’m ready to start something new. After all, I made the decision to retire for a reason, Max. I’ve spent so much time on F1 that now I need to rediscover myself. And I don’t know what I want.”  

Max got up from the couch, slowly approaching you.  

“I get it. I’m not expecting it to be easy, or for everything to be resolved right now. But I want you to know I’m not pressuring you. I just… wanted you to know that, no matter what happens, I’ll be here. And if someday you decide what we had is worth another shot, I’ll be ready to try, no matter the past.”  

A deep silence followed his words. You knew there was still so much to figure out between the two of you, but something about his attitude, about his willingness to wait, struck a chord within you.  

You didn’t say anything else. You walked toward him, and for a moment, words weren’t necessary. The look in your eyes said it all. Still, there were no promises, no certainties just a silent understanding that, maybe, the future could be different. Maybe even together.  

“We’ll see what happens,” you finally said.  

Max nodded, not pushing, knowing that time would have to decide the course for both of you. And with that response, the future remained suspended between you, open, uncertain, but carrying a possibility that hadn’t existed before.

[saintobio]

blue christmas

a sincerely yours christmas special. non-canon. angst. 900 wc. part of the sy side-stories.

It was quiet that night. 

The fire crackled softly in the hearth, and the scent of pine and cinnamon lingered in the air while the warm glow of Christmas lights twinkled on the tree. Outside, snow drifted lazily to the ground, covering the surroundings of your home in a soft, pile of white. It felt peaceful—almost too peaceful—and you sat back on the couch, lounging after a nice Christmas dinner with your teenage son, Sachiro, who cradled a mug of cocoa in his hands beside you.

You smiled faintly, admiring how much he had grown, and how this quiet night seemed so far removed from the all the drama that had once filled your life. But the comfort of the moment didn’t last long before he spoke. His voice, deep like his father’s, broke the silence of your supposed peaceful night. 

“Mom,” he began, “Why didn’t you ever choose to remarry Dad?”

The question hit you harder than expected, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the right words. Really, what were the right words? You had never been good at talking about these things, and you didn’t expect that your son would put you on the hot seat like this. The past, especially those connected to Satoru—sometimes it felt easier to leave them untouched, forgotten. As it should be. 

You glanced at your son, unsure of how to explain the complicated web of emotions that tangled inside you. “I thought... it was for the best,” you said quietly, voice soft as you searched for something that sounded right. His question was too sudden to be given a decent answer. “You know your Dad and I just couldn’t make it work. And for you, for us, it was better this way.”

Sachiro nodded slowly as if he already knew the answer, yet his fingers tightened around the mug. You could see the way he was processing your words, as if he was hoping for better reasoning. He had never even known the sibling he had lost until recently, the gap that finally forced his father out of your lives. Sachiro only saw the quiet love that both his parents shared, but it wasn’t enough, not for either of you.

“Do you ever wonder what it would be like if my sibling were here?” he asked, clearly inciting. “If you kept her, mom. Would she be celebrating with us tonight?”

You felt the ache in your chest as the question landed. You knew Sachiro’s question came from a place of grudge, aiming really well at a spot that hurt the most. And it did good at bringing you a pang of grief from a memory you had tried to bury long ago. You weren’t numb. Of course the loss still stung, even all these years later.

“I think about it all the time,” you murmured, unable to hide the shame in your voice. “What she would’ve been like. How she would’ve looked like. But... I don’t want to remember, Sachiro. I’ve made peace with it.”

But he wasn’t done. “Then, why didn’t you try again?” His voice was so gentle, yet so curious. “Why didn’t you remarry anyone else? I mean... Dad’s married to someone else now. And they’re having another baby. Shouldn’t that be a sign?”

The words felt like a stab to your chest, your heart shattering with an emotion you couldn’t name. Satoru’s life had moved on without you, far far too long ago, yet every reminder of it still cut deep. 

“I’m happy for him,” you said softly, the words stuck in your throat. “But that doesn’t mean I want the same outcome for myself. It’s... complicated.”

Marrying someone else again was not in your books. 

You could feel the intensity of Sachiro’s gaze on you, as if waiting for more. But you didn’t have more to give. You didn’t know how to explain the parts of you that had been shattered, the pieces that had never fully healed. Even if your own son hated you for it. 

“I just want you to be happy, Mom,” Sachiro said, turning away from you, his gaze landing on the Christmas tree. “I want you to have what you deserve. When I have my own family someday, I don’t want you to be spending your Christmas all alone.”

You wanted to tell him everything. How much you loved him, how much you would do for him. How hard it was to move on, how hard it was to see his father moving on with someone else. But the words needn’t be said. At least, not for tonight. 

And then, just as quickly as the moment had come, it faded into a kaleidoscope of memories. The world around you shifted, and the warmth of the fire and the smell of Christmas began to dissolve. Suddenly, you were back in your bed, heart pounding recklessly in the darkness.

You woke up eyes wide in surprise, until the reality of your room finally made sense to you. You blinked, trying to steady yourself. It was a dream. It was all a dream. 

Sighing, you let your head fall into your hands. And just for a moment, you let yourself mourn the future you would never have. The family you would never see, the happiness you could never quite reach.

But as the soft glow of the Christmas lights flickered in the silent night, you slowly allowed yourself to breathe. Tomorrow would come. But tonight, you would let the dream linger just a little longer.

[imreidswifey]

All Roads Lead Home -S.R Fluff-

Summary: After a year of heartbreak and silence, Dr. Spencer Reid finds himself drunk and lonely at the BAU’s Christmas party. When he accidentally gives his ex-girlfriend’s address to his cab driver, Spencer is unexpectedly reunited with the one person he’s never stopped loving.

A/n: This was made to a request by @maebee33

Warnings:

Mentions of alcohol consumption and intoxication.

Brief discussion of emotional struggles and past breakup.

Themes of vulnerability and emotional reconciliation.

Mild language and romantic tension.

———————————————————————————-

This holiday romance is filled with warmth, introspection, and tender moments, offering a heartfelt story of love and healing.

The BAU’s Christmas party was in full swing, a riot of warmth and laughter that felt like a salve after the difficult year they’d all endured. Festive lights twinkled around the bullpen, and someone—probably Garcia—had gone overboard with tinsel, draping it on everything that wasn’t moving. Mariah Carey’s Christmas anthem blared through the speakers, and the air was thick with the scent of cinnamon, nutmeg, and something suspiciously alcoholic.

For once, Spencer Reid wasn’t a quiet observer nursing a glass of water on the sidelines. No, tonight was different. He was participating.

It had started with one innocuous glass of eggnog. Then, Penelope Garcia had insisted he try her “extra festive” spiked version, and before long, Spencer had consumed enough holiday cheer to loosen his typically rigid demeanor. His cheeks were flushed pink, and his tie hung crooked around his neck as he gestured wildly, recounting a historical anecdote about the origins of mistletoe in Norse mythology.

“I never knew drunk Reid could be so… animated,” Emily said, leaning over to JJ with a smirk.

JJ chuckled. “This is a Christmas miracle in itself.”

Morgan clapped Spencer on the back. “You’re a lightweight, kid, but you’re a fun one. Maybe we should get you drunk more often.”

Spencer, oblivious to the teasing, grinned broadly. “You know, the probability of a white Christmas in Washington, D.C., is only 12%—but tonight? Feels like 100%!” He gestured grandly toward the window, even though no snow had fallen.

As the night wore on, the party began to wind down. Most of the team had either headed home or passed out on various couches, but Spencer remained in his spot, humming a slightly off-key rendition of “Silent Night.” His eyelids drooped, and his head bobbed forward every so often, as though gravity were slowly winning the battle.

Emily approached him with a raised eyebrow. “Reid, I think it’s time to call it a night.”

Spencer blinked up at her, his hazel eyes glassy but still bright. “You’re probably right,” he slurred. “I should… probably sleep in my own bed. Statistically better for back health. Did you know that improper sleep alignment—”

“Save it for tomorrow, genius,” she interrupted with a fond smile, helping him to his feet. “Let me get you a cab.”

The cab smelled faintly of pine-scented air freshener and wet pavement. Spencer slumped in the back seat, his head leaning against the window as the world outside blurred into streaks of twinkling Christmas lights.

“Where to, buddy?” the driver asked.

Spencer frowned, his mind foggy from the alcohol. He should have given his apartment address, but instead, his lips formed the words that had been tucked away in his heart for months: your address.

It had been nearly a year since you last saw Spencer Reid.

The breakup had been mutual—or at least, that’s what you told yourself on the nights when the loneliness felt unbearable. Loving Spencer had been easy, but being with him had been complicated. His job took him away more often than it brought him closer, and his walls, carefully constructed and unyielding, had left you feeling like an outsider in your own relationship.

You’d thought time and distance would heal you, but neither had managed to erase the ache he’d left behind.

So, when you heard a knock on your door late on Christmas Eve, you weren’t expecting him.

“Spencer?” you whispered, your heart lurching as you took in the sight before you. He stood on your doorstep, his scarf half-undone, his coat dusted with frost, and his hair a tousled mess. His hazel eyes, slightly unfocused, softened when they landed on you.

“Hi,” he said, his voice barely audible over the hum of the wind. “I think… I made a mistake.”

“You think?” you echoed, crossing your arms. But despite your exasperation, you couldn’t stop yourself from stepping aside to let him in.

Spencer stumbled slightly as he walked past you, and you caught a whiff of something sweet and alcoholic. He collapsed onto your couch, his long legs sprawled out awkwardly.

“I shouldn’t have come here,” he mumbled, his head tilting back against the cushions. “But I couldn’t… I didn’t know where else to go.”

Your heart twisted at the vulnerability in his voice. “Spence,” you said softly, sitting down beside him, “you’re drunk.”

“Very drunk,” he admitted, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I missed you.”

The air seemed to shift between you, heavy with unspoken words and the ghosts of what once was.

“You can’t just show up like this,” you said, though your voice lacked the conviction you wanted it to have.

“I know,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to his hands. “But it’s Christmas, and I thought… maybe… if I was lucky, you might still care.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “Of course I care, Spencer. I never stopped.”

His head snapped up at that, his eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt. “You didn’t?”

You shook your head, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. “No. But we can’t fix this in one night.”

“I don’t expect that,” he said quickly. “I just… I needed to see you. To tell you that I still—” He stopped himself, swallowing hard. “That I still think about you. All the time.”

The words hung between you like a fragile ornament, threatening to shatter with the slightest touch.

“Stay,” you said finally, your voice trembling but sure. “We’ll figure this out. Tomorrow.”

Spencer’s shoulders relaxed, and a small, grateful smile spread across his face. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered, his eyes fluttering shut.

The morning brought sunlight streaming through the curtains and the smell of coffee brewing in the kitchen. Spencer woke slowly, his head pounding but his heart strangely light.

He found you in the kitchen, humming softly as you poured coffee into two mugs. You looked up when you heard him, offering a tentative smile.

“Good morning,” you said, sliding a mug toward him.

“Good morning,” he replied, his voice thick with sleep. “About last night…”

“Let’s talk,” you said, cutting him off gently.

And so you did. For hours, you talked about everything—your fears, your regrets, and the love that still lingered, as bright and undeniable as the Christmas lights strung around your living room.

By the time the day turned to evening, the walls between you had begun to crumble. It wasn’t perfect, and it wouldn’t be easy, but as Spencer reached out to hold your hand, you knew one thing for certain:

This Christmas, you were exactly where you were meant to be.

[starvu]

Romantic Lover || s. reid

spencer wasn't a fan of love at first sight until he saw the new employee at his favorite coffee shop. well, things can change throughout the seasons.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

genre: fluff

content warnings: none :))

word count: 2,9k

a/n: i'm just trying to write, my english is not perfect, i'm not native, but i hope it won't bother you :)) i came up with this completely by accident when i was listening to romantic lover from eyedress (i was trying to make it pretty, but using tumblr is hard lol)

She's a killer,

one look is all it takes.

He never believed in fate, destiny or anything like that, but this time it was different. He thought, that nothing can surprise him, especially when he was buying morning, too sweet coffee in his favorite coffee shop at some late autumn, nearly early winter day. There were no leaves left on the trees, but autumn was not over yet. Winter was around the corner.

But something was worng. In fact, everything was wrong. Because he hated being late for work, which was exactly what he did. And he knew his trusted barista at his favorite, cozy coffee shop, but he was nowhere to be seen then. He always had the confidence that his coffee would be solid, with no unpleasant exceptions. Spencer loved things that were unchanging, constant, and certain, so the chance of a bad coffee on an already rushed day seemed cruel. Cruel coffee, undersweetened coffee, too little cream in coffee, something is wrong with the coffee.

But his heart clenched as soon as he crossed the threshold of a familiar place and you turned to him.

"Hey, good morning." You said casually with your enthusiasm. You had this attitude towards every client, wanting to brighten their day in the morning.

There you were, smiling all the time, with your navy blue nails, funky jewellery and a light brown apron tied in a neat bow at the back. You seemed to have within you all the energy of the sun, shine and warmth and you smelled like coffee. He stared at you for a moment, a little dazed by you. He wasn't used to it, but he focused on your eyes, the loose hair that fell out of your hairstyle and framed your face, his gaze wandering stupidly for a moment. It didn't sit well with his penchant for things that were permanent or unchanging. You cleared your throat slightly, wanting to snap him out of his reverie so he could order.

"Umm, yeah, good morning..." He played with his fingers nervously, his lips pressed into a line as he pondered over ordering coffee, even though he drank the same one every day. It didn't escape your notice.

His reaction didn't scare you in the slightest, even if he wasn't as enthusiastic as you were. You nodded as he placed his order, staring at him with a genuine smile. All your little behaviors were natural, unforced. He was nervous, but he couldn't take his eyes off you. And yet, this was the first time he'd seen you, and instead of his favorite barista.

Spencer felt like an idiot. Ordering coffee wasn't even a problem for him, with his not-so-best social skills, but after the first look at her, his stomach clenched. You unconsciously stared at him with your typical warmth in your eyes, and he felt smitten. Your energy, warm eyes and smile were really enough, even if it was stupid. He was stupid in that moment.

Then even ordering coffee became difficult, more difficult than mathematical equations, chemical reactions and biological cycles, with whom he had contact so often.

You didn't want to make things even more difficult for him, despite your smile, you didn't engage in unnecessary small talk with him. Instead, you silently scribbled your phone number on his paper cup with your glitter gel pen, you even drew a little smile next to the note. There was no rational explanation for it, you were simply captivated by that man. You turned around, fiddling around with the coffee machines a bit. You were still studying after deciding to change the coffee shop you worked at. You quickly poured the brown, fragrant drink into a cup, pouring a little more sugar into it, just like he asked.

"I would advise you to slow down a bit." You said a little bit quieter, as you gave him coffee cup, put the money in the cash register and handed him the freshly printed receipt. "Be careful, it's hot." You added as you focused more on the cash register than on him.

"Uhh, thank you?" He answered a little awkwardly, but he kept staring at you. He walked away after that, glancing back over his shoulder. You were still there, smiling at another customer. Were you real? You didn't seem real. Were you nice to him specifically, or were you nice to everyone?

It was only after he left the cafe that he noticed the note and felt almost as if he had been shot. The neat, round letters, or rather numbers written on the warm paper cup made him feel dazed. You had simply noticed him, dear God. Something tempted you to leave a trace, to indicate to him that you want to contact him. You looked at him and made a few small gestures like smiling, it's not big deal, he shouldn't have panicked or felt like a lovesick teenager. But one look is all it takes.

She's a killer,

and she took my breath away.

He called you. He called you in that early winter, and the feelings in yours hearts blossomed with the blooming flowers outside the window.

One late spring morning he woke up as usual. He woke up, but the spot next to him was cold. When he fell asleep the previous night, this spot had been warm. The night before, you had dinner together after he got back from a case, and you were just laying around aimlessly, talking about unimportant things. You listened to his rambling with genuine interest. You never said it bored you, you actually loved hearing it, even if sometimes you didn't fully understand it and needed more explanation. But in that morning you weren't next to him. He looked around his bedroom from his heavy eyelids and immediately felt relief.

He saw you leaning over the dark brown dresser, on which you had placed a small mirror. You were taking out of your makeup bag various colorful makeup things and shiny earrings. You painted your eyes with glitter, but bright and subtle shadow, put blush on your cheeks and tried to choose the right earrings. You blinked to apply mascara and closed your eyelids to draw a perfect line. Your lips were parted in concentration, and then you hold the bobby pins between your teeth. You tied her hair in a bun, braided it, unbraided it, tied your hair half up, half down and twisted locks on your fingers, even if it didn't stayed.

He didn't think you noticed him watching you. In reality, he was pretending to still be asleep. He didn't want to embarrass you, his eyes were slightly squinted, still sleepy as he rubbed them with his hands. He watched you quietly, and even if you wasn't doing anything special, it took his breath away. In a very simple way, you focused on bringing your image into order and composition.

Spencer finally got out of bed quietly, the floor in his apartment was creaky but he remembered perfectly how to bypass certain panels to pass silently. He stood behind you as you sat in the chair, he lightly placing his hands on either side of you head and kissing the top of your head tenderly, feeling yoir soft hair under his lips. "Morning, sweetheart. Don't worry, you already look pretty." He mumbled softly into your hair as he rested his chin on the top of your head.

You felt surprised when you suddenly heard the words and felt warmth and closeness. You thought he was still asleep. He raised his head slightly, looked in the mirror, and noticed that you was glancing at him in the mirror's reflection. He felt his heart fill with affection every time you looked at him.

"You think? I think it's all... I don't know, weird today." You answered hesitantly as you stared at your face and hair. Your gaze was focused on your appearance, and your expression was a little doubtful. You didn't always maintain that cheerful energy. Spencer quickly took a few steps, circling you, and leaned over you. He kissed the tip of your nose and both of your eyelids.

“No, you’re beautiful, everything is okay.” He tenderly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

You smiled warmly at him. He leaned in behind you, his posture still sleepy, which you found to be an absolutely adorable and precious sight. He rested his head on your warm shoulder. He ran his fingers through your hair carefully as you continued to apply your makeup. He kept staring at you with genuine admiration. There was silence between them, a comfortable silence. He didn't say anything, taking in your appearance, the scent of your hair, and the warmth of your skin. Finally, he buried his head in the crook of your neck. You didn't have to say much to feel each other's feelings, carefully preserved and nurtured in the quietness and privacy of his apartment.

It was almost unbelievable how much he loved looking at you. He loved looking at you, he loved your personality, he loved everything about you. It almost hurt him. Your movements, how effortlessly beautiful you looked, even if you were indecisive about how you wanted to look that day and doubtful. It was almost unfair how you could take his breath away when you did nothing and didn't even try. He felt honored to be able to watch you in your quiet, peaceful moment. You just took his breath away every time, without asking his permission.

She's a killer,

romantic lover,

there is no other,

she is my lover.

With the end of spring came a warm and certain summer. Summer is always certain, warm, sunny and pleasant. Just as with each passing day the feelings between you became certain. Because spring feelings are shy, they are born like nature to life, leaves on trees and flowers blooming. But summer feelings arouse trust and conviction.

Despite this, Spencer wanted to keep your relationship private. No, he wasn't ashamed of you or yours relationship. Having learned from the past, he preferred to keep it to them, as your little secret. He wanted to separate his relationship from his professional life, not expose you to any dangers of his job, he didn't want you to be used as his weakness one day. In his eyes you deserved this whole world and all that was kind. You deserved all kindnesses.

Unaware of anything, Derek almost fought to finally find someone for Spencer. Because how long could the young genius be alone? But every excuse Spencer made just got worse and worse, after all, he was not a master of excuses. Well, he just didn't need anyone else. You were his lover. His precious and lovely, lovely girlfriend. He always told you about Morgan's failed matchmaking attempts and you just laughed at how absurd it was.

In one of those sunny summer days when they were working a case in D.C., they went to a coffee shop, Reid's favorite coffee shop on the street corner. Crossing the threshold of the familiar place, they immediately smelled the coffee, there were no more people there than usual. Spencer immediately noticed you behind the counter, smiling as usual, wearing long, white skirt and dark blue baby tee. You were focused on making coffee and taking orders, the light blue ribbon bow pinned to your hair moved slightly with each of your graceful movements. He partially held back a smile at the sight of you, and slightly felt a sudden shiver. When you noticed him, you frowned slightly. Was this his way of hiding his relationship? Coming there with a co-worker? You immediately recognized the man he came with - Morgan. From Spencer's stories and his ramblings, you knew all of his coworkers.

Derek immediately noticed you. If he was going to keep trying to matchmake his friend, he saw another opportunity. Seeing the woman effortlessly serving customers and moving between the coffee machines and the counter, the idea immediately popped into his head. It never hurts to try, right?

As they placed their order, your expression was unwavering, you leaned slightly over the counter with a smile, not even glancing in Spencer's direction, not wanting to arouse suspicion. Their relationship wasn't public, and it hadn't started long ago, only a few months earlier. But when Morgan moved from the subject of coffee to Spencer subject without hesitation, you tried to stifle your laughter. You could see Spencer's embarrassment, god, he hated it when Derek tried to set him up again. Why is he so stubborn?

You played along.

"Oh, really? I mean, I've seen him here many times, but I haven't had a chance to talk to him much. Tell me more about him." You spoke with conviction, and Spencer surreptitiously gave you a disbelieving look. "He's really that genius?" You still pretend. You had your back turned to them and made a few coffees.

You kept up your little act until the end. Partly because it was pretty funny, partly because you hadn't yet agreed on how they wanted to reveal their relationship. You were doing quite well, considering you were playing with a profiler, you didn't arouse suspicion. When you packed the coffees into cartons with handles that held four cups, and threw the stirrers and sugars into the net, you stared at the agents. After going through everything, you pointed to the paper bag. Without thinking, you began to speak. And then you let yourself down for such a simple thing.

"Oh, I threw in two extra packets of sugar for you, Spence. Normally I would just put more sugar in your coffee, but I assumed someone else might take it." You spoke with commitment as you put the cups of warm coffee into the second carton.

"Thanks." Spencer responded with little smile. Just like you forgot about Morgan's presence.

Derek just frowned, his gaze shifting from him to you. Since they barely spoke, like you said, why the sudden concern over something as simple as sugar in coffee? Strangers? Nah, not at all. Despite his confusion, he didn't try to push the subject. You exchanged a few more small, polite conversations with them before they left the coffee shop. Pretending you didn't know Specter was, ironically, quite good. Spencer glanced over his shoulder once more, and you waved at him with usual, warm smile.

The place of the case was not far, so they returned on foot. The summer sun was pleasantly warm, and the trees by the sidewalk cast shadows and a light wind. They tried to walk as fast as they could, but for Morgan there were interesting and more interesting cases.

Derek immediately looked his way, his expression still questioning. “Okay, pretty boy, what’s this about?” He asked directly. Of course, subtlety wasn’t his strong suit.

“What’s this about, what?” Reid asked with obvious embarrassment.

"The woman. The woman from the coffee shop. Don't tell me every coffee shop employee remembers you that way. 'Spence, I threw more sugar for you." His words were all direct, unvarnished. He kind of imitated your sweet voice when he said words similar to yours, teasing Spencer.

"It's... well... she- let's just not talk about it." Spencer responded with a more hesitant, uncertain tone. He didn't know that this was how their relationship would see the light of day, but their visit to this coffee shop had to end this way, he could feel it.

"Why not, what could be so terrible about it?" Morgan asked. He sensed Spencer's nervousness and this was the perfect opportunity to tease him.

Spencer felt like his back was against an imaginary wall. All the explanations seemed awful now. Besides, he had so many excuses lately. And yes, he was running out of excuses. But now he didn't have to defend himself so fiercely. Usually he had to say no, because his friend wanted to put another woman in front of him. But now he wanted to put you in front of him. Was it possible to set Spencer up with his own girl? He quickly reminded himself that the question still remained unanswered. Usually he had a million words and two million thoughts a second. But now it was all for nothing. It was always like this when it came to you, you were the killer of any ability he had to speak or think. He swallowed hard.

"Don't be surprise, okay? I don't need it. It's, uhh... She was- I mean she is- Of course she is, not was, my girlfriend. But technically speaking, I prefer to say that I'm her boyfriend and not that she is my... girlfriend." His explanations became a bit convoluted, and he started babbling a bit out of nervousness.

Morgan didn't take his eyes off him, his sudden statement was... surprising to say the least. When had he managed to find himself a girlfriend and hide her and their relationship so well without arousing any suspicion? "Girlfriend? Real girlfriend? Look at him." He patted him on the back in a brotherly gesture, and Spencer just bowed his head with a sheepish smile. "For how long? Why didn't you tell anything?"

"Oh no, don't interrogate me."

"I'm not."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I'm not."

"Come on, pretty boy. Talk to me... or rather lover boy." He laughed and pat his shoulder with his free hand. Oh god, he loves to tease him.

Spencer sighed. "Yes, real girlfriend."

"No need to be embarrassed, that's good, really good. So no more matchmaking?"

"No, no matchmaking, ever." He still smiled sheepish. Spencer didn't want anyone else, he didn't want matchmaking, he didn't want to look for anyone else, when he had you. There is no other, you are his lover.

[nellielsss]

⋆꙳•❅‧₊⋆☃︎‧ Cԋɾιʂƚɱαʂ αƚ ƚԋҽ Fυʂԋιɠυɾσʂ!

Summary: It's Christmas-time at the Fushiguro household! Although not all the members of the house have the best impression of the holiday, everything is still merry and bright--no thanks to your grump of a husband and even more grump of a son... Ft: Toji Fushiguro & Megumi Fushiguro (reader is Mamaguro) Note: I am so incredibly sorry for going missing for months!! College A. Kicked my ass majorly, and B. made me extremely depressed, but we're back! ... for now. CW: light religious imagery, nothing too major! Pure fluff (I'm way too tired to do smutmas...)

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆ Toji never truly gave two shits about Christmas. The Zen'in Clan was anything but merry and bright, and until you and Megumi came into his life, he saw no reason to celebrate the holiday--that, and it was technically a christian holiday, and god knows Toji wasn't no saint who deserved presents.

Those were the two reasons he gave when it came to not celebrating Christmas, but there was a deeper, more painful reason that he wasn't fond of sharing...

Christmas reminded him of everything he didn't have.

He didn't have a loving family, he didn't have a warm home to decorate for Christmas, and he never had enough money to even buy gifts to begin with. He never had more than $100 in his checking account until he got a wife and a kid, even with all the money he earned from being a highly paid assassin. He also hasn't seen his family since he was 18 and was free of their legal guardianship, so suffice to say: he didn't give two shits about Christmas.

And that was where you came in!

Christmas was probably one of the best holidays in the whole entire world for you. It was fun and bright, always full of love and laughter and general excitement for you. Even if not every Christmas was great, you still did the best you could year round.

When Toji saw you decorating the giant tree that you'd (miraculously) set up all by yourself in the living room, he nearly spit out his drink. What the hell was an 8-foot pine tree doing in his living room? But when he saw the joy and excitement on your face, and Megumi's little hands playing with the ornaments you were going to put up, he bit his tongue.

Eh, sure, why not? Let the wife have her fun. Happy wife, happy life. What he didn't expect was for the antics to ramp up with every passing year.

Each year, the decorations would become bigger and better. There were more ornaments on the trees, more candles lit, more nutcrackers, more garland--more everything. It was like Hallmark came and threw up in your home and left. He knew he was in too deep when you swapped out the bedsheets for Christmas sheets.

He couldn't lie; he was also starting to go all out himself, at least on the presents. He found himself hitting up his handler, Shiu, for more jobs so that he could get Megumi and his little wife the stuff that they deserved. He'd never been showered in anything but hatred and disgust his entire life, and he'd be damned if his son went through the same shit he did.

Which is what led to Christmas morning, when said wife and said son were opening what they got.

"Look what Santa got you!" you chirped, handing a box to little 5-year old Megumi, who was trying to keep his best nonchalant grimace on his face (don't mind him--he's just going through an angsty teen phase).

"You don't have to say it was Santa, mom, I know it was you and dad," he answered while opening it.

That made you deadpan and go "ehh?" while looking at Toji. "Did that little punk from your homeroom say something to you again? Is he putting these ideas in your head?"

"Nah," he answered, opening up the stack of books that he was currently into. "It's hard not to confuse reindeers for dad's heavy footsteps, but I know reindeers wouldn't survive the Tokyo traffic."

"Hey, watch it, punk," Toji grumbled, reaching out to rub his knuckles into Megumi's head, making him whine and fuss.

Despite your son knowing that Santa Claus is, in fact, his mom and his dad, the little scene made you smile and laugh. You even reached out to take a photo of the little interaction between the two of them and save it for later. "Just hurry up and unwrap your presents, Toji. Let's see if daddy ended up with coal, hmm?" You teased, handing him a box with a smile on your pretty face.

"Yeah, I wonder what Santa got me," Toji said jokingly. His big hands effortlessly ripped off the pretty wrapping paper you so carefully wrapped, and he was met with the name "Rolex" staring back at him. His smile dropped for a second in shock, and he touched the wooden box as if it didn't truly exist. "Babe, you didn't have to-"

"Now I know you've got simple tastes, and I know you're a simple guy, but try it on! I'm sure you'll love it. Besides, I got a raise at work," you encouraged with a wink.

Toji opened the wooden box to see a beautiful silver Rolex watch with a green dial--perfectly matching his green eyes.

He was speechless for a second, earning a proud smile from your part. "I outdid myself, didn't I?" you giggled proudly.

"This is... I've never had somethin' like this before," he said, taking the watch out of the box. "Thank you so much, babe--this means so much to me."

"It's no problem- oof!" He cut you off by wrapping his big arms around your waist and pulling you in, all but squeezing you to death. He then put a kiss on your face and let go of you slightly. "It's n-no problem, really... although... those hugs of yours will give me problems."

Toji simply chuckled and handed you a box as well. "Now it's my turn to spoil my pretty wife," he retorted with a confident grin on his face.

His ogre of a dad calling his princess of a mom his 'pretty wife' earned a sideways grimace from Megumi while he flipped through his books, but he didn't say anything.

"I wonder what Santa got me," you wondered, mimicking his earlier words. You eagerly unwrapped the bow, took off the wrapping paper, and the words "Louis Vuitton" stuck out to you. "Toji, this is..."

"Yup," he said with a cheeky grin, puffing his chest out proudly. "Saw you eyein' this bag like it was your last meal, figured that meant you wanted it."

You slid the top off the box and gasped in excitement and childlike wonder. 6 years into your marriage, and you were still the same girly and excitable woman he first met. "Oh my god, a rainbow Louis!" You held it up with both hands and eyed it like it was, in fact, your last meal.

It was a black multicolor Louis Vuitton Alma bag, complete with a Hello Kitty keychain (that he took the liberty of picking out for you). "Oh, Toji!" You threw your arms around his neck and all but tackled him off the couch, and you pressed kisses all over his stubbled face. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love it so much!"

Toji grinned from ear-to-ear and simply patted you on the back while chuckling deeply. "Hey, only the best for my girl."

While you pressed kisses all over his face and hugged him tightly, Megumi looked over and grimaced once again. "Get a room, you two. And get off my mom, you ogre."

"Aw, shut yer trap, ya little grinch," Toji reached out and pulled his son into the hug, both arms wrapped around his beloveds. "I'll be damned if someone interrupts my time with either of you."

Despite Megumi's growing complaints and whines about wanting to be let go, you couldn't stop yourself from smiling and hugging Megumi as well. "Is my little Gumi mad about getting some hugs?" You asked the little boy, making him sigh dramatically and give up. He begrudgingly hugged the both of you, and he couldn't lie--getting a hug like this wasn't so bad. Not that the little sea urchin would ever admit that, of course. He had a reputation to uphold.

Looking up from his hug and loosening his grip on the both of you, he looked around at everything in the room, at the life he built for himself. He had a cozy home, presents under the tree, a beautiful wife and an amazing son. Toji truly was a simple man at heart, because this was all he needed.

"This is all a man needs to be happy," he muttered to himself with a slight smile decorating his face.

Christmas might've been rough for Toji growing up, but those days were behind him. Now, he had his loving family, and that was all a man needed to be happy.

© nellielsss on tumblr - get your own shit bitches | ca. 12/26/2024

[storiesfromafan]

Christmas Wish - Mattheo x Hufflepuff!Reader

A/N: Merry Christmas all! Finally finished my Mattheo Christmas one-shot 😊

It's a little all over the place, but not too bad haha.

Warning/s: fluff, all over the place, a little rushed, possible grammer/spelling mistakes

In your family there’s a silly little tradition. One were the night before Christmas – Christmas Eve – you light a candle and make a wish. It’s something you have done since you could remember, it’s a core memory for you. How your parents explained the tradition, saying you could wish for anything. Then your father would pull your mother into a bear hug saying how he’d wished for her, and his wish was granted.

You never understood the appeal or want to wish for someone, or wanting a relationship like that at such a young age. You wished for toys or food, as you got older it was good health for those that meant the most for you or a good year to come. Your selfish wishes became more thoughtful and caring.

But that changed after your first year at Hogwarts, after meeting Mattheo Riddle. He captivated you, along with almost every female student, with his boyish good looks and cool presence. But for a brief moment you saw another side to him, a kinder side, after he saved you from falling down a flight of stairs. From there the Slytherin Prince took pity on the lowly Hufflepuff, an unlikely friendship was formed.

Sure, it wasn’t easy at first. The whispers and looks were unsettling, but Mattheo confronted or fought anyone who spoke ill of you. Mattheo accepted you for you, a friendly, kind but clumsy Hufflepuff. And you accepted him for him, a quiet, somewhat brooding but secretly sweet Slytherin. That’s why on Christmas Eve on your second year at school, your wish was for Mattheo to see you, to pick you. You loved being his friend, but you were madly and stupidly in love with your friend.

This was the first year you hadn’t gone home for Christmas, your parents having to travel to see your sick grandmother, on your father’s side. They had been in such a panic that you thought it best to save them the worry of you and getting back to school. And once Mattheo heard you were staying, he did too. He said that his family didn’t really do anything for Christmas, it was just another day.

So Christmas Eve, on year five at Hogwarts, after your other roommate out of three was deep asleep. You sat on your bed, taking out the candle and matches from your bedside table. With a little struggle, you finally lit the candle. Sitting there in the silent night, the candle the only light besides that from the rooms window. You looked at the flame, mind focused on your wish. When the wax began to melt, slowly dropping down the side, you blew out the flame.

I wish for Mattheo Riddle to see me, and want me. And no one else...

Walking into The Great Hall, you looked around at the small number of students, many sitting at different house tables enjoying the Christmas morning with other students. Finally you spotted Mattheo, he was sitting at the Slytherin table with both Lorenzo and Theodore. Both had also chosen to stay then rather deal with their families and their politics. You knew roughly about all three's home lives, but never asked too many questions. Out of fear that Theodore would hex you, yet you know Mattheo, and possibly, Lorenzo would not resort to such an extreme.

You crossed the room, a soft smile on your lips, as you made your way to them. Mattheo saw you out of the corner of his eye, and the way he smiled brightly at you as you approached made your heart skip a beat. Those chocolate brown orbs fixed on you, and paired with his gorgeous features and unruly mop of hair, he was perfect.

“Happy Christmas!” Mattheo beamed as you stood next to him.

“Happy Christmas!” You returned, eyes moving from him and to his friends and repeated your words.

“Happy Christmas” both boys responded with. Lorenzo was warm and welcoming, while Theodore was off handed and uncaring.

“Sit" Mattheo said patting the seat on the bench next to him.

You didn’t need to be told twice, holding your skirt as you lifted your leg over the bench and then the other, before sitting down. The three Slytherin's fell into a heated debate while you dished up your breakfast, adding in a word here or there until you started to eat. That breakfast felt like a dream. Sitting next to Mattheo, so close you could smell his aftershave, and arms brushing together from time to time. And the conversations you had with Theodore, who wasn’t a complete jerk to you. A Hufflepuff sharing a meal with three Slytherin's, who would have thought? Maybe there was some Christmas magic at work, allowing you all to have a pleasant start to the day.

“So, what did you get from your parents?” Mattheo asked while the other two Slytherin's bickered across from you.

You put down the cup you’d just drank from, briefly looking to Lorenzo and Theodore. And deciding if Mattheo didn’t have an issue with their heated words, you could let it go. “Just the usual, ugly sweater" – you gestured to what you were wearing – “some sweets and a book. How about you...?”

You wanted to kick yourself. But it was just natural to ask what someone got. You watched how the warmth in Mattheo flickered for a second, but he put on a forced smile. Just making you feel worse. You should know by now that he never to rarely got a present.

“That’s nice" Mattheo began, moving uncomfortably in his seat. “Ah, I got nothing...like usual...”

“I-I’m sorry!” You said in a rush, regret written on your face.

Mattheo's face softened, his smile becoming less forced. He knew you meant no harm, it was just a reflex. “It’s all good (Y/N/N). No damage done". He bumped shoulders with you.

You sighed, relieved to hear that and see him going back to how he was. You finished breakfast in a comfortable silence, except for the other two Slytherin's keeping the conversation going. Not even seeming to notice the change and change back.

After finishing, you all headed out of The Great Hall and outside to one of the courtyards. The boys wanted to see the snow, and play in it. You foresee many snowballs coming your way, mostly from Theodore no doubt. It was chilly outside but your ugly sweater would do for now. For the moment it wasn’t snowing, but you couldn’t rule out any more falling.

It didn’t take the three long to start throwing snowballs, as you thought. You took refuge in a little seating area, where it would be harder for Theodore to get you. You sat and watched the three from the cut out in the wall, laughing when both Mattheo and Lorenzo pelted Theodore with snowballs. He did get his revenge though, stuffing snow down Mattheo's top before chasing after Lorenzo. That was Mattheo’s cue to escape and beg for sanctuary and protection, not that you could protect him, as you couldn’t protect yourself.

He flopped down next to you on the bench, a small chuckle leaving him as he continued to shake his top. The snow had all fallen out, but Mattheo wasn’t entirely convinced it had. You shoved him a little, which he shot you an offended look for. But you just laughed. Which triggered him to laugh. Slowly the laughter died down, leaving a comfortable silence between you both.

Feeling like it was now or never, you pulled a beautifully wrapped gift from your bag, it wasn’t much but it was the thought that counts. Bashfully you turned to Mattheo, gift out stretched to him. An unsure smile on your face as you waited for him to notice. When he did, Mattheo sat there blinking. Looking from the gift to you with a puzzled look.

“I-I know you don’t really do Christmas...but I noticed you needed a new one...” you stated with a shaky voice.

Mattheo took your gift slowly, a tad cautiously. He was surprised to receive a gift, and it be from you. He didn’t really get gifts from his friends, more stuff he needed like smokes and alcohol. So to get an actual wrapped gift, and from you was a surprise.  Mattheo noted there wasn’t any weight to the gift, so not a book. He shook it slightly, and it made no noise. What lay behind all the wrapping paper then?

You laughed nervously, watching Mattheo closely. “Y-you can open it, it won’t bite".

The way he looked at you, like it would bite him. Reluctantly Mattheo pulled it to his lap and began to open the present. He was gentle and continued to proceed with caution, which made you want to laugh.

Finally it was open, and he felt silly being worried the gift would bite him. Laying in his lap was a brand new Slytherin scarf, neatly folded like that was its natural form. Mattheo didn’t want to pick it up, but he did, holding it up and the scarf unfolding to show its length in his grasp. This was a thoughtful gift. His first true gift. It warmed Mattheo's heart to have received it from you, even if it was just a scarf.

“T-thank you...” he said sincerely, his chocolate brown eyes on you. Showing you how genuinely grateful he was.

You smiled warmly, nervous washing away. “I am glad!” You sighed and then laughed. “Honestly...I wasn’t sure how you would have reacted to a gift...”

Mattheo looked mock offended, placing a hand over his heart. “You wound me" was his dramatic reply.

Which only made you laugh harder, as well as the boy at your side. “Never know with a Slytherin" you retorted.

“Hey! I take offence to that. I like gifts...I just don’t get them often, alright?” His tone wasn’t angry or hurt, but there was a small touch of sadness.

You decided to drop it after that. Just saying you were glad he liked the gift. And after a few more awkward moments, you excused yourself. You had to get ready to speak with your parents, you know...to wish them a Happy Christmas. It was true, but you also didn’t want to stick around for the awkwardness you’d both created. So, you left Mattheo sitting there, with his new scarf and thoughts and feelings.

Next time you’d seen Mattheo, Lorenzo and Theodore was for dinner. Which had been a nice Christmas feast. You’d ate and drank so much, you felt like you needed looser clothing. Walking out of The Great Hall with the three Slytherin ‘s, you said your good evenings and was about to walk back to the Hufflepuff house, when Mattheo said he’d walk you.

You didn’t look to his friends, but just knew they’d be sharing a confused look. But none the less, you walked off with Mattheo. It was silent for most of the walk, you both speaking when replying to the paintings you both passed. Eventually the silence had gotten too much for Mattheo, and so he was the one to break it.

He cleared his throat. “Ah, (Y/N/N)...I wanna thank you for your gift" he began, unsure if he was saying the right thing. “I-it’s something I needed, t-thank you...”

You smiled fondly at him, holding back a giggle. “It was nothing Matty".

He shook his head. “N-no it was. You took the time to get me something, while I-"

You knew what was coming, so you cut him off. “It’s fine that you didn’t get me anything, I didn’t do it for a gift".

He stopped, grabbing your arm and stopping you also. “No, that wasn’t what I was going to say! I was gonna say; while I don’t really do Christmas. That you were thoughtful, like always".

A soft smile graced your face. “Oh...well, I guess I’m just a thoughtful person by nature...”

Mattheo chuckled. “Yes, you are...” he then pulled out a small wrapped box, holding out to you. “T-this is for you, I got it a little while ago...just wasn’t sure if I should give it to you...”

Shocked you took the small box, removed the ribbon and opened it. Staring back at you was a small oval shaped locket. You brushed a fingertip over it, feeling the light coolness of the metal. Mattheo encouraged you to open the locket, and so you did. Inside was a photo of your parents on one side, and – to your surprise – one of Mattheo on the other.

Looking back up at the boy before you, who now looked embarrassed, you thanked him with the warmest tone. He knew how much your parents meant to you, so for him to have put a photo of them in there meant more than anything. And his photo, that was just a bonus. The moment between you both was silent, but warm and content.

But then Mattheo's eyes darted above you both, as you’d both stopped in an archway. His eyes widened by whatever was there. And so you tilted your head back to see for yourself. Well you weren’t expecting mistletoe to appear above you both. You want to say it was the Castle, but maybe someone else had a hand in this.

“Ah, well...” you mindlessly said turning your gaze back to Mattheo, who had been staring at you with a firm look.

You felt a pleasant chill run down your spine. And before you could say another word, Mattheo moved in. One of his hands cupping your cheek as he lips descended onto yours in a soft, chaste kiss. All the while you stood there unsure of what to do, or how to react. When he pulled back, he shot you an apologetic smile.

“S-sorry...” he sputtered. “Mistletoe, tradition is to kiss...the person...you’re with...”

He was blushing, and a mess with words. Even through your shock you found it cute. Your cheeks warmed, no doubt turning a bright red. You sputtered, trying to form words but nothing came from it. Which made Mattheo laugh. His thumb caressed your cheek, only making you blush more.

“You’re so cute when you’re flustered" Mattheo stated with a cheeky smile. “I’ve always liked making you go red...I-I've always liked you...”

Was that a confession? Did Mattheo Riddle just confess to always liking you? You wanted someone to pinch you, you needed to know if this was real or a dream. Though you begged for it to be real. For your friend, the one you have been longing for, to finally return your feelings.

“Y-you like m-me?” Was all you managed to get out, your brain a jumble from what was happening and just said.

Mattheo chuckled, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours. “Yes...and it was time to tell you. Because I so badly wanted to kiss you...”

If it was possible, you blushed more at him wanting to kiss you. Yet you wanted that too. Have for so long now. You then did something that surprised you both, you leant in and kissed Mattheo. It was a hard kiss, one that hoped to tell him how much you have wanted this moment. Instinctively Mattheo wrapped his other arm around your waist, drawing you closer as he adjusted the angle of his head.

You jumped when his tongue made contact with your lower lip, but you bashfully parted your lips. His tongue slipped in and explored your mouth. Both tongues coming together in a clumsy dance, clumsy on your part. As you didn’t know what you were doing, you’d never kissed someone before. And when Mattheo pulled back with a soft laugh, making a comment on your lack of grace when kissing. Yet your reply floored him.

“I-I'd never kissed a-anyone before...” you sounded hurt.

Mattheo then realised he had taken your first kiss. Quickly he cupped both cheeks with his hands, and pressed a quick reassuring kiss to yours lips. “T-that’s alright, I-I didn’t know you hadn’t been kissed before...but I’m glad it was me...”

You believed his words. The way he smiled brightly at you, caring for you. Christmas wishes, or maybe miracles, do happen after all. You got the boy, and had your first kiss. Though embarrassed by most of it, you wouldn’t change the outcome.

-Bonus-

Of course after leaving the blind love birds, Lorenzo and Theodore had devised a plan of attack. Or rather, push you both together. Theodore did put up a fight, not entirely liking you for his friend, but after spending time with you today, he noted you weren’t that bad. So agreed in the end to the plan.

Both boys had followed at a distance, watching painfully how you both were together. And then the awkward conversation before Mattheo gave you his gift. They lay in wait, glad you’d both stopped in an archway, the perfect spot for mistletoe.

“Now?” Questioned Lorenzo with his wand in hand.

“No, no" muttered Theodore, eyes glued to you both.

When the silence washed over you both did Theodore give the order, and Lorenzo said the spell and flicked his wand. They both watched how Mattheo was the one to see the mistletoe first, followed by you. They snickered at your sputtered words. But those snickers died the moment Mattheo kissed you. They wanted to hoot and hollow, but chose to remain silent.

The admission of Mattheo’s feelings to you made Theodore want to be sick, while Lorenzo smiled happily for you both. They say love is blind. And you both were as blind as they come. But it was a little weird watching the awkward kiss exchange.

The whole scene was priceless. Especially when Mattheo made a comment on your kissing. To which you advised you hadn’t kissed anyone. Theodore snorted, and said we knew that. But that memo must have gotten lost on its way to Mattheo.

In the end both boys decided to leave you both alone now. Their job done. You’d both kissed, feelings are now known and finally no more longing looks or jealousy – in Mattheo's case.

“Hope he knows that tomorrow I’m not letting him live down that awful kiss" comment Theodore. “Mattheo always boasted about being a good kisser. Apparently not".

[waitforyrlove]

slytherin ! matt doesn’t make it easy.

PART ONE.

the next few days were unbearable. Every time you saw Matt in the corridors, his gaze lingered a moment longer than it should have. You could feel the weight of his unspoken words pressing against you, and your thoughts were consumed by the question: what did he want? What was he going to ask of you?

you spent your time in a constant state of anxiety, trying to focus on schoolwork, but all of it felt like background noise compared to the looming promise you’d made. You couldn’t avoid him forever. You’d agreed to the terms, and now you had to face the consequences—whatever they were.

it wasn’t until Thursday evening that you got your answer.

you were walking towards your common room after dinner, mindlessly heading to your dorm when you bumped into him.

Matt was leaning against the stone wall just outside the hall, arms crossed, his green-and-silver tie hanging loosely around his neck. His eyes flicked over you with a trace of amusement, and you froze in your tracks.

“Fancy running into you here,” he said, his voice low, but there was something in it that sent a chill down your spine.

“What is it, Matt?”

he pushed off the wall and took a step closer, making your pulse spike. “I’ve been thinking about what I want you to do for me.”

your heart skipped, a mix of dread and anticipation swirling in your chest. “And?” you managed to ask, though your voice betrayed you, cracking slightly.

Matt’s eyes glinted, the playful smirk never leaving his lips, “I think I’ve come up with something just right for you.”

you braced yourself, knowing he wouldn’t make this easy, “What is it?”

he studied you for a long moment, as though savoring the tension, before speaking, “I want you to sneak into my dorm again. And this time, I want you to steal something of mine.”

you blinked, stunned by his request. “What?” you whispered, your stomach dropping. You’d expected something more devious, something humiliating—not this.

he chuckled at your reaction. “Relax, it’s not that big a deal. I’m not asking you to steal something important. I want you to grab one of the books on my desk. Something that looks like it could be of value. Take it, get caught, and bring it back here.”

you stared at him in disbelief, “You’re joking aren’t you?”

“Nope,” he replied smoothly, his eyes flashing with mischief, “You’re going to do it for me. The more… chaotic, the better. Just make sure you get caught... I’ll be watching.”

the idea of breaking into his dorm again, of deliberately getting caught, made your skin crawl. But you knew what would happen if you refused. The consequences. The debt you’d agreed to.

“I’ll be waiting here after you’ve done it,” Matt said, as though he were giving you a homework assignment, “If you do this for me, you’ll be square. No more debts.”

you opened your mouth to argue, to protest, but something in the cold certainty of his tone stopped you. He wasn’t playing. And you had no choice.

“Fine,” you muttered, your voice barely audible. “But you owe me after this.”

he grinned, his eyes alight with satisfaction. “Deal.”

the evening arrived far too quickly. You couldn’t stop thinking about what you had to do, but there was no going back now. As the shadows grew long and the castle grew quieter, you found yourself standing in front of the Slytherin common room, heart pounding in your chest. The cold stone walls loomed, the same ones you had crossed once before—too easily, you now realized.

you hesitated, staring at the door. There were a thousand reasons to turn back, but only one reason to go through with it: you had to.

the password whispered to you, and you entered the common room with caution, trying to blend in with the low murmurs of students talking or laughing around you. As before, the greenish light filtered through the lake’s murky water, casting an eerie glow over the room. It was just as you remembered it—a place that felt so unfamiliar to you.

the boys’ dormitory door loomed across the room, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. You knew what you had to do.

you walked as quietly as possible, stepping lightly over the plush carpets, trying to avoid making a sound. The laughter from the upper common room seemed miles away, a muffled sound as you approached the door.

this was it.

you placed your hand on the doorknob, feeling the cool metal beneath your fingers. The room was dim, just as it had been before. You knew Matt’s room well now, every book on his desk, every parchment scattered on the floor, every piece of his life that he’d so carefully arranged.

you crept over to his desk, trying to remain as silent as possible. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, the tension mounting in every breath. But you needed to act fast.

your eyes scanned the desk. There, a thick, worn leather book, sitting innocently on top of a pile of papers. It looked important and you reached for it.

that was when you heard the creak of the floorboards above you.

Matt.

your pulse slammed in your ears as you looked toward the door, your heart lodged in your throat. He’d been waiting for this. And now, you were caught.

before you could react, the door slammed open.

Matt stood in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame, a smirk playing on his lips. “Caught in the act again, are we?”

your heart skipped a beat as his eyes raked over the book in your hands. The look of satisfaction on his face made your stomach twist.

“You were supposed to get caught, remember? and you did got caught, by me.” he said, pushing off the door and stepping inside.

you couldn’t bring yourself to speak. There was no point. You’d done exactly what he’d wanted—exactly what he’d planned.

“I think you’ve learned your lesson, haven’t you?” he asked, his voice low, each word making the air grow thicker between you.

you didn’t dare respond, your eyes stayed fixed on the floor, and the book seemed to grow heavier with each passing second.

Matt took the book from your hands, setting it down on the desk. “Now, about our agreement,” he said, his voice suddenly serious. “You’ve done your part. But I’m not finished with you yet.”

you looked up at him slowly, dreading whatever else he had in mind.

he stepped forward, tilting his head slightly as he stared at you, his eyes sharp. “One more thing before we’re done. There’s always a little bit more, isn’t there?”

you could feel the weight of his words, but you had no idea what kind of game he was playing now.

Matt’s words hung in the air like a storm cloud, his voice dripping with a mix of amusement and something darker. Your chest tightened in response, but you didn’t dare look away. You knew that look in his eyes—he was enjoying every second of this.

“You’ve done your part,” he said, his tone almost lazy as he placed the book back on the desk with slowness. But then his eyes shifted back to you, narrowing slightly, and you felt your breath catch in your throat. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

the words sent a shiver down your spine, your heart hammering in your chest. You could feel the air between you both growing heavier with each passing second. Your legs felt rooted to the spot, and despite every instinct screaming at you to run, you couldn’t seem to make yourself move.

Matt took a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. The distance between you shrank, and you could feel the heat of his body so close now that it was almost suffocating.

“You’ve been such a good little accomplice,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, like velvet. “So obedient. I think you deserve a reward..”

you tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat. You knew exactly where this was headed, and part of you—the curious, reckless part of you—wanted to see how far he would take this.

“I’ve done what you wanted. Can I go now?” you asked, your voice betraying your uncertainty.

he smirked, the familiar, confident grin spreading across his face as he stepped even closer, until you were forced to tilt your head back to meet his gaze. “You’re not going anywhere just yet.”

his hand brushed your neck, his fingers cool against your warm skin. A gasp escaped your lips before you could stop it. You stiffened, trying to pull away, but he was faster, his other hand gently cupping your chin to keep you in place.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice a low growl. “You’re not in control here. Not today.”

your pulse was racing, the words hanging in the air like a challenge. You couldn’t breathe. His thumb traced lightly along the curve of your jaw, making your skin feel electric. The tension between you was palpable, and it took everything in you not to give in to the pull he had on you.

and then, he kissed your neck.

the sensation was electric. Soft at first, his lips barely grazing your skin, but then it deepened, and you could feel the heat of his mouth against you. It sent a shiver down your spine, your body reacting before your mind could catch up. Every nerve in your body seemed to be on fire, and you hated how much you craved the contact.

you fought to push him away, but your body wouldn’t cooperate. It wasn’t even that you didn’t want this—it was that this wasn’t what you wanted. Not like this.

Matt’s lips brushed against your skin again, teasing you, his breath warm and steady against your neck. “You’ve been playing a dangerous game, sweetheart,” he whispered, his lips tracing a path down to the edge of your collarbone. “But I think you like it.”

you closed your eyes, trying to ignore the wetness in your panties, but it was impossible. He made it impossible to think clearly, his presence consuming you. Your pulse was racing, and for a moment, you couldn’t tell if you wanted him to stop or if you wanted him to keep going.

he paused, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. The smirk on his face was almost predatory, and you could feel the weight of his gaze like a physical touch.

“You’re so easy to read,” he muttered, his voice laced with satisfaction. “You say you don’t want this, but I can see it in your eyes. You’re not so different from me, are you?”

he stepped back, the distance between you suddenly cold and empty. He studied you for a moment, as though savoring the tension in the air.

“You’ve got your reward,” he said, his voice now calm and almost detached. “But you can leave. Go back to your precious common room. Get some sleep. But next time… next time, don’t come back here without knowing exactly what you’re walking into.”

you felt a mixture of relief and confusion. Your head was spinning, and your heart still pounded in your chest. What had just happened?

without saying another word, you turned on your heel and hurried out of the room, trying to steady your breath. You could feel Matt’s eyes on your back, watching you leave, but you didn’t dare look back. You couldn’t.

as you made your way back to your Tower, your thoughts were a mess. You had gone from a simple bet to something you didn’t fully understand—and you weren’t sure whether you wanted to know what was next. But the pull of Matt’s presence, his challenge, was far from over. You couldn’t escape him, no matter how hard you tried.

and you weren’t sure you wanted to.

© waitforyrlove. all rights deserved. do not copy my works. or modify my work.

˙ . ꒷ 🪽 notes from author ˙— had really fun making this little two part slytherin matt, please please please, spam about him in inbox and send reqs :)

taglist: @secretlocket @pearlzier @et6rnalsun @mattscoquette @carvedtits @sirenedeslily @mattslolita @flouvela @bella-loveschris @lovingregulusblack @sarosfilms @annsx03 @eliana-4200 @wakeupitschrizz @emely9274 @sturniolossss @sturnioloangell

[gaylordscooter]

Cut Off

[warning for binge drinking and references to self harm]

He didn't know what to think when he saw the scars on his arms. He knew they were there but he never brought it up. He wasn't good at handling situations like that. He wasn't good at comforting others, he never has been. Not even when he was Sans.

And then Blue pointed out some of them seemed to be recent given that they weren't as healed as the others.

Instantly, he knew what caused those scars.

That argument they had. After he stabbed through his soul.

He avoided Killer as much as he could for about a whole week afterwards until they made up.

IT’S YOUR FAULT. YOU MIGHT AS WELL HAVE CARVED THOSE YOURSELF.

Horror seemed to come to the same conclusion. He stared at Dusk knowingly. He sighed and carefully put a shirt on Killer along with his usual jacket.

They weren't going to bother with changing his pants, comfort be damned. They've already intruded enough on his personal space.

Afterwards, Blue asked Horror to have a private talk with him in his room and that he’ll have one with Dusk after.

It was puzzling, but Horror went with him anyway, leaving Dusk alone with Killer.

It left him some time to ruminate, specifically about his relationship with him.

He stayed crouched down by the couch Killer was sleeping on.

They never labeled what it was—Killer seemingly didn't think of their relationship as anything special, which is what spurred that argument in the first place. Considering Killer's apology and the new scars on his arms, that couldn't be further from the truth.

It's true that initially it was casual. The kissing, the drugs, all of it was just to get away from everything.

Their horrible living circumstances, Nightmare, their guilt—those nightly meetings warded them off even if it was for just a little bit.

At first it didn't matter who the other person in the room was. It didn't matter who they were smoking with. They weren't…Killer wasn't thinking of him when they kissed. Initially.

And then it stemmed into something more, after the night they agreed to quit it with the drugs. Now they did matter to each other. The whole reason they hung out at night had changed. They liked each other's company. They liked each other.

Yet being trapped under Nightmare's grip evaporated any hope for a proper relationship. Killer always avoided talking about their relationship too—but Dusk didn't see that as the main problem.

But now they're somewhere new. Somewhere safe, hopefully.

SOMEWHERE YOU DON’T DESERVE TO BE.

They could have a proper relationship now, he supposed, but diving into one immediately—living with each other—was starting to seem like a bad idea.

He cares about Killer a lot more than he ever expected to, so he wanted to do this right.

But what would that even entail? Was that even possible for them?

He studied Killer’s sleeping face. He didn't exactly look peaceful. He cupped his face with a hand. He felt him lean into the touch.

At least in their current states, he doubted it.

IT’LL NEVER HAPPEN. DO YOU THINK EITHER OF YOU CAN GET BETTER? AFTER EVERYTHING YOU’VE DONE?

Horror walked into the room a few minutes later. “you're up,” he said.

Dusk looked at Killer, but he was still asleep.

“no, i meant it's your turn to talk to him.”

Dusk rolled his eyelights and stood up. He walked into the hall even as Horror was trying to tell him where Blue’s room was located. He didn't need directions, it was pretty obvious with the light to his room being the only one that was on in the hallway.

Besides, he also had a concerningly easy time locating monsters in general, but that wasn't relevant in this specific instance.

He opened the door, which startled the skeleton inside.

His sockets widened. The room looked so similar to Papyrus’s, but it was off. While the layout was the exact same, the color of the carpet was different, the figures on his table weren't the same, and his bed looked like a rocket-ship instead of a car.

SEEMS FAMILIAR.

“Oh my god, I didn't realize my room would throw you off. Sorry,” Blue fretted. He was currently sitting on his bed with a clipboard and pen in hand. Seeing him in the room instead of Papyrus grounded him a bit.

Dusk waved his hand dismissively. It was fine.

“Please, take a seat.” He gestured to the stool in front of his bed. It was kinda funny how professional he was trying to be despite the setting.

He sat down.

“So…I want to preface this by assuring that you and the others are not getting kicked out of the hub. I just wanted to talk to each of you one on one to properly sort things out. The hotel room you and Killer are staying at is actually a temporary place to stay before we build a permanent home. My question to you is: do you want to continue to live with Killer?”

Blue managed to ask the one question Dusk wasn't sure how to answer. He ended up staring at him blankly.

“This choice isn't permanent of course, you could always change your mind.”

It was mostly Killer’s choice to live in the same hotel room. He went along with it without complaint. They were used to living in the same building after all. It was comfortable, but it might've been too comfortable.

If they continued to live with each other, would they even find any motivation to go outside? He doubted Killer would.

YOU WOULDN’T EITHER.

Finally, Dusk shook his head.

Blue quickly jotted something down. “Alright. Um, another thing I wanted to mention. I don't know anything about what you guys went through when you were under Nightmare’s captivity, but I know it must've been rough—and I’m not exactly licensed—but if you need someone to talk to I’m available.”

Dusk looked at him blankly. It clicked for him that the torn-up coat Blue was wearing was a lab coat. This guy was a wannabe doctor.

His silence only made the other skeleton nervous. His eyelights darted from side to side as he waited for a response. When he didn't get one he cleared his metaphorical throat and went on, “What I mean to say is, I’m a therapist—again not officially, but it's not like I can get licensed anymore—but that's besides the point! I got a PhD in psychology, so I have the knowledge…Okay maybe I forgot some of it…Most of it. Sorry, I’m rambling.”

Dusk perked up. If this guy had knowledge in that field he could probably help Killer better than he could ever. That was a pretty big “if” considering his questionable qualification, but Dusk knew with how things were now, he wouldn't be able to provide the support Killer needs. He was hardly keeping it together himself, he couldn't provide comfort for him for much longer without being dragged down too. For lack of a better way of wording it.

Hell, the only reason he's been keeping it together was out of pure stubbornness to make sure Killer was okay. He couldn't keep that up for long, that was for sure.

If they were going to live on their own, Killer would need someone else to support him.

OR ELSE HE’LL KILL HIMSELF.

can you not.

He glared into Blue’s eyelights. Did he really want this guy to be the one to do it?

Who else would it be? Horror?

Hell no. He's also got enough to deal with on his own.

“you can help?” he asked.

Blue’s sockets widened. “I…like to think so?”

That wasn't the most confident answer.

CAN YOU BLAME HIM? IT’S HARD TO HELP SOMEONE WHO DOESN’T DESERVE IT.

shut up.

“watch over killer.”

He watched Blue’s grip on his pen tighten.

“Okay,” he said.

No, he wasn't satisfied with that. He needed to be sure. 

“promise me.”

Blue blinked in surprise, before a look of conviction crossed his face. “I promise. I promise I’ll keep him safe.”

LIAR.

He wrote something down again. “Um, is there anything I could do to help you?”

Dusk was about to shake his head, but then he thought of something.

HEY.

“medication.”

“Oh um, I don't have access to any medication…what specifically did you want them for?”

He pointed at the side of his skull.

Blue cocked his head as he tried to understand. “Headaches?”

…Well that was a problem too but not the one he was thinking about. He shook his head.

“Uhh, hearing? Do you have a hard time hearing or—no wait, that wouldn't make sense, are you having auditory hallucinations?”

Honestly he wasn't sure if the voice in his head was a hallucination or something else. He knew it wasn't actually Papyrus. Though that did take him an embarrassingly long time to figure out.

I AM PAPYRUS. YOU JUST CONVINCED YOURSELF OTHERWISE BECAUSE YOU CAN’T FACE IT THAT I HATE YOU.

Yeah, that wasn't Papyrus, but he still had no clue what this was. He shrugged.

“If they're hallucinations, antipsychotics could probably help. It doesn't always work though…but I probably wouldn't be able to get you any in the first place and I’d have to make sure they're hallucinations first,” he rambled. “What are you hearing, exactly? If you don't mind me asking.”

DON’T TELL HIM. YOU ALREADY SEEM INSANE ENOUGH AS IS.

Dusk’s hands gripped his arms as he curled into himself as much as he could on the stool. He didn't want to speak anymore, but he had to get this out.

DO YOU? IT’LL ONLY PUT YOU IN DANGER.

He pointed at Blue’s clipboard.

“Oh! Do you want to write it down?” Blue put a clean sheet of paper on top before handing it along with his pen over to Dusk.

He hesitated before writing down the first word, but once he started the rest was written quickly. He handed it back for Blue to read before the dumb voice in his head could protest.

The look on Blue’s face shifted as he read. His eyelights flicked up to Dusk as he continued and then he put the clipboard down off to the side. He covered his mouth with a hand as he processed what he read. Blue was looking everywhere but at him. It seemed he couldn't bring himself to face Dusk anymore.

I TOLD YOU THIS WAS A MISTAKE.

“That's…that's horrible, having to deal with that, I’m sorry,” he said.

Dusk didn't expect sympathy. He just told him that he killed his own brother and he was plagued by his voice ever since. If anything—

YOU DESERVE THAT.

Blue’s voice got quieter, “i—i have something i need to confess.” He clasped his hands together tightly. “I already knew that you killed your brother.”

Dusk’s sockets narrowed. He curled his hands into fists but he remained seated.

Blue had the gall to shut his sockets, “I know more than I should about you and the other two. You saw the book with my notes. I wasn't sure if any of you actually read through it, but there's an entry on other versions of you guys. They're not exactly the same as you, so I don't know exact details but I know you and Killer have…murdered a lot of monsters.” Once he finished talking, he finally opened his sockets. He hesitantly looked at Dusk.

HE KNOWS ABOUT ALL OF YOUR SINS.

That only made his actions more confusing.

“why are you trying to help us, then?”

It seemed Blue wasn't expecting to be asked this question because all of his anxiety washed away and was replaced with exasperation. “I told you guys already that I want to. I get that it's hard to trust me when you hardly know me but can't you suspend your doubts at least a little bit? Sure, you've hurt a lot of monsters, but that's no excuse for you to give up on ever being good again. Everyone can—”

“don't finish that sentence,” Dusk said.

Blue’s breath hitched as he was interrupted. “right, sorry.”

Everyone can be a great person if they try. That's what he was going to say.

Of course the person trying to help them is so similar to Papyrus. It was a cruel joke, really.

Well, this wasn't exactly a joke. It wasn't funny in the slightest.

Blue cleared his throat, “After I finish talking to Killer, I’ll take you all to your new homes in the Hub. If you don't have any questions that will be all. I'd appreciate it if you told Killer to come over here.”

Even if he did have questions he was frankly too preoccupied with the upcoming conversation he was going to have with Killer. So he simply gave him a nod and got up to walk out.

Once he got to the living room he saw that Killer was awake. He’ll never get over how Killer lights up whenever he sees him. It was—he wasn't used to it.

His brief exchange with him was awkward. He sighed once Killer went over to Blue's room. He didn't mention anything about living apart yet. He probably should've done so before sending him over, but he wanted to put it off for as long as he could.

Which isn't for long at all.

He sat on the couch next to Horror, dreadfully awaiting when he’d return and he'd have to explain everything.

At first he thought Horror was going to be mercifully silent, but after a minute of silence he spoke up.

“so, are you and killer still gonna share a room?”

Dusk threw his head back against the couch with a groan.

“i’m taking that as a no. good for you.”

Dusk glared at him.

Horror shrugged. “what? i’m being honest. it is good for you, and probably killer. you two are…” he trailed off trying to find the right word, “hazardous, together.”

“you think so?” Dusk signed frantically.

Horror raised a brow bone. “is that sarcasm?”

Dusk fell back against the couch again, deflated. Hazardous? That was one way to describe their relationship. How many injuries have they caused each other?

It was to let off steam, was the excuse they had, but considering the scars was it just another way Killer would hurt himself?

The thought made him sick.

HE’S USING YOU.

What did that even mean at this point?

He couldn't answer.

“so me and papyrus are gonna move into our own house, separate from the rest of the guys. it's gonna be weird getting used to living with him again.”

Showoff.

THAT’S NOT SHOWING OFF. YOU KILLED ME! THAT WAS EASILY PREVENTABLE!

It wasn't that simple but he has a point. He gave Horror a thumbs up. Good for him.

“i’m mostly saying that just in case you come over to visit me. i know it's hard for you to be near him, so.”

Dusk let out a half-laugh half-hum. How weirdly considerate of him, and about Papyrus nonetheless.

Back when Horror learned he and Killer murdered their brothers, he was furious towards them. The only reason he interacted with them was out of self preservation, and even then it was rare.

Maybe being tormented by the same being was the easiest way to bring anyone together.

Or maybe he just realized he wasn't really qualified to judge them after all he's done.

If they wore each other’s shoes they’d find they’d do the exact same thing. It’s funny how being the same person works.

Either way, it's surreal that they're friends now. Though, he kinda thought he’d stop being so friendly once they got away from Nightmare.

“anyway, how are you gonna tell him?” he asked.

He didn't have the answer to that, so he shrugged.

Horror snerked, “dude, seriously?”

“what would you say?” he signed, moving his hands in a stilted manner.

“you really gotta brush up on sign language, i can barely understand you.”

Dusk clenched his hands shut in silent annoyance. He wasn't wrong. His sign language was horrible. He was only going off of what he remembered from past resets, and even then he only took the time to learn it in timelines where they reached the surface. Which were very very distant memories.

“just be upfront. it's not like you two have to live with each other. ‘sides, he’ll be fine on his own.”

Dusk leaned his head forward and gave him a skeptical look.

“probably…” he added without much certainty.

He dreaded the conversation to come. That dread didn't dwindle at all when Killer entered the room and swore at him.

Horror fled the room immediately. Which was fair, but he would've appreciated some support.

He didn't even say anything yet and Killer was already on the verge of crying. His voice cracked as he yelled, usually Dusk found his voice cracks amusing, but now it made his soul twist.

He brought up a point Horror told him. Only for him to panic even more.

LOOK AT HOW MUCH YOU’RE HURTING HIM. IS THIS YOUR REVENGE ON HIM AFTER HE CALLED YOUR RELATIONSHIP A JOKE? WAS HIM CUTTING HIMSELF OVER YOU NOT GOOD ENOUGH?

He didn't want to hurt him. This wasn't revenge. He didn't want to hurt him!

HE KNOWS YOU HATE HIM.

He cared about him!

He loved him!

The words came out of his mouth before he realized it wasn't the best time to say them. It was a horrible time to confess, Killer was already overwhelmed.

That was the first time he said “i love you” to him.

He needed him to know how he felt. He needed him to be sure that they were splitting out of necessity and that he didn't hate him.

“we need to spend some time apart,” he said.

Killer started hyperventilating. God, he was shaking. It looked like he was going to fall over at any moment.

THIS IS WHAT YOU DO TO HIM. YOU’VE MANIPULATED HIM. NOW HE CAN’T STAND BEING WITHOUT YOU.

YOU’RE AWFUL.

YOU GAVE HIM THOSE SCARS.

Dusk hugged him, hoping it would calm him down.

Killer immediately clung onto him in return. His hand tightly gripped his jacket, desperate to keep him here.

He tried explaining why they had to be apart.

“dust, please, i’ve already been alone for too long!”

Dusk moved his hands to his shoulders and pushed him away so that he could look at his soul.

It looked the same as it did that night when they decided to quit doing drugs; it was jagged and changing frantically.

He didn't know what it meant exactly, but it didn't mean anything good.

Just like his soul, his face was a mess. He was crying. He thought he was mad at him for calling him “Dust”. He didn't even notice he did.

It hurt to see him like this, but that probably didn't compare to what Killer was going through.

It’d be worse if they stayed together. They wouldn't be able to leave their room. Why would they, when they had each other? No, he didn't want to live like that. It was going to be hard adjusting to a new life and meeting new people but they needed to.

YOU DON’T DESERVE TO.

Things will be better for both of them.

They just had to rip off the bandage first.

That whole conversation was worse than anything Nightmare’s put them through.

No, being overtaken by that parasite was worse, actually.

Either way, it ended up being motivation to go outside once they got back to the Hub. Only for him to b-line towards Grillby’s once he found it.

Once he walked into the place deja vu rushed through him. It looked the exact same as his Grillby’s, the only thing that reminded him that he wasn't in his universe were the patrons.

It was a lot more packed and it wasn't just the usual Snowdin residents that were here. Luckily, because it was so packed, no one paid him any mind when he walked in.

If this was his universe, everyone would greet him.

As he walked towards the bar he noticed that the establishment wasn't the exact same—because it seemed to be double the normal size.

That was the only noticeable difference so far, though.

Grillby himself looked the same, he was also cleaning a glass like he usually did whenever he had some downtime.

Feeling bold, he took a seat at the bar, not many people were sitting around here anyway.

Grillby looked at him, waiting for an order.

And then he realized he didn't have any gold on him. Maybe this Grillby would also put up with a stupidly long tab.

It was weird seeing him again. Fortunately, he's gotten used to seeing different versions of monsters he's killed. Even though they looked the same there was something off. It was like he could tell they were from different universes.

However, this Grillby didn't feel off to him at all.

He didn't need anything fancy to drink so he just ordered a glass of beer.

Grillby gave it to him without a word, which was typical of him.

He tried drinking it slowly at first, trying to seem casual and then he threw that out the window once he realized he didn't really care right now. He wanted to get wasted.

When Blue took them back here, both he and Horror accompanied Killer to his room. Horror practically dragged the skeleton over to his room with how unresponsive he got after their conversation ended.

Then when they said their goodbyes, Killer wordlessly clung onto his sleeve until Dusk pulled away.

Grillby refilled his beer, thank god.

He downed it immediately.

This is only temporary.

Another glass, actually, Grillby brought him two more. He knew he could always rely on him.

They’re not even that far apart from each other. He knows where he lives. He can visit at any time.

Another glass down. The fake Papyrus in his head has gone quiet already.

As his hand grasped the other glass of beer, someone sat down next to him.

“S-SANS?”

Dusk nearly spat out his drink, instead he choked it down, causing him to go into a coughing fit.

“SORRY FOR STARTLING YOU! I THOUGHT YOU WERE SOMEONE ELSE!”

He looked over at the person next to him. Oh god yeah, that was a Papyrus.

Why did this one seem so familiar?

He wasn't even wearing his battle body. He was wearing casual everyday clothes.

He looked a lot more rugged than usual with heavy dark circles under his sockets.

This one had LV.

“it's fine.” Is what he wanted to say. Instead his tipsy mind only managed to say “you real?”

He looked so nervous. “I DON’T SEE WHY I WOULDN’T BE?” He squinted at the glasses on the counter. “HOW MUCH HAVE YOU DRANK ALREADY?”

Dusk looked over to count, but he was distracted by the fact he was currently holding a whole bottle of beer in his hand, apparently. He turned his attention to Grillby, confused.

“...” Grillby looked as blank as ever.

“THAT ISN’T AN EXCUSE TO GIVE HIM SO MUCH ALCOHOL!” Papyrus responded. He pinched the bridge of his nose bone and shook his head in disapproval.

What the hell was happening?

Maybe drinking like crazy wasn't a good idea in a completely new world. Ehhh he didn't really care. Oof, his eye sockets were getting heavy.

A nap sounded real good right now, actually. Consequences be damned, he propped his head against the counter and dozed off.

“HE DIDN’T EVEN ORDER FOOD, DID HE?” Papyrus remarked. He knew this Sans wasn't literally the one from his universe, but the second he saw him he knew he was from a similar one.

Obviously he was from a universe where he didn't die by his hand.

It was shameful, knowing that Papyrus never stooped low enough to harm let alone kill his own brother. He was a horrible brother.

As much as Grillby would insist he did what he had to in order to protect the other residents of Snowdin, he still regretted it deeply.

Seeing a version of his brother that probably succeeded in his task didn't change his mind on that at all.

Speaking of Grillby, “I KNOW YOU RECOGNIZED HIM BUT YOU CAN’T JUST GIVE HIM ALL THIS,” he gestured wildly at the group of empty glasses by the sleeping skeleton, “LIKE YOU’RE TRYING TO SEDATE HIM! YOU KNOW HE ISN’T THE SAME ONE.”

Grillby adjusted his glasses even though they were already straight and grabbed one of the cups to start cleaning it.

“I KNOW IT’S WEIRD, THAT DOESN’T CHANGE MY POINT.”

“...”

“I CAN’T JUST WAKE HIM UP THAT’S RUDE.”

“....”

“I’M GOING TO STAY HERE UNTIL HE WAKES UP SO I KNOW HE’S FINE, OBVIOUSLY.”

Grillby paused his glass-cleaning to procure a shot of warm milk for Papyrus.

“I AM NOT PAYING FOR THAT,” he said, before snatching it up and downing it as if it were whiskey.

Grillby gave him a quizzical look.

Papyrus lowered the volume of his voice, which wasn't by much, “Of Course I’m Not Perturbed By Seeing Such A Close Replica Of My Brother That I Brutally Put An End To.”

Grillby got back to cleaning the pile of glasses.

“IT IS JUST A YOU PROBLEM ACTUALLY…SORRY, THAT WAS RUDE. STILL YOUR PROBLEM, THOUGH. THIS SKELETON NEXT TO ME IS A COMPLETE STRANGER, WE’VE NEVER MET HIM,” he said with total confidence that he didn't have.

At the Hub, it was expected to run into other versions of people you knew, but it was basic etiquette to treat them as strangers. You do not assume anything of them because you've never met this version before. Unfortunately, that was harder to uphold when they were from such alike universes.

It wasn't unusual for loved ones from different universes to settle for you if you were similar enough.

Fortunately for Grillby and Papyrus, they didn't really have to deal with that, being the only people from a “Dust” universe to live in the Hub.

But now this Sans is here.

When Dusk finally woke up, the bar was near closing time.

And the Papyrus was still here—oh never mind he bolted out the door the moment he moved.

He sluggishly moved his head towards Grillby, who was probably waiting for him to leave too so he could close.

“sorry,” he slurred. He put a hand on the counter to support himself as got off the stool. He reached into his pockets for gold that wasn't there. Oh yeah.

“my bad, i forgot i didn’t have any g.”

Grillby waved his hand dismissively, or he was shooing him. “...........It's fine.”

Dusk blinked in surprise. “thanks, i’ll uh, bye.” He gave a quick wave before walking quickly out of there, or at least he tried to. He ended up bumping into multiple tables and chairs until he tripped and fell down before he could even make it to the door. He doesn't know how long he napped but clearly he was still drunk.

He stayed on the ground for a moment, internally hyping himself up to stand.

He heard Grillby walk over. Ah, great.

At the very least he managed to flip himself on his back to look up at the fire monster.

For a moment, it felt like he was back in his universe and this Grillby was the one he knew, but he knew he couldn't be. He killed him along with the others.

Although Grillby had an unreadable face—because he didn't have one—Dusk was able to get a good idea about what he was feeling by looking at the pattern of his flames.

Either being drunk skewed his perception or he was reading it wrong, because from what he was seeing, Grillby was concerned for him.

He knew this look well, especially after he started remembering past timelines all of a sudden. Whenever he drank to stop thinking, Grillby would look at him exactly like this and then he'd offer to help him get home. Sometimes he'd try asking what was up. Which was completely in vain.

Usually this was the part he'd kill him.

The two of them stared at each other in silence. They were off script. They didn't know who was going to make the next move.

Until Grillby decided to take the lead. He knelt down by Dusk. His hands reached out to him slowly, ready to draw back if Dusk said anything.

Dusk’s mind unhelpfully insisted Grillby was about to strangle him or something. He stayed still regardless.

Grillby paused and his hands retreated. “...Why are you here?” He stood up.

“had a bad breakup,” he said. It wasn't really a breakup since they were never formally together, but they did separate so that word probably applied to the situation.

Grillby’s head briefly flared up. That could mean a multitude of things so he didn't want to bother assuming what it meant.

“GOOD LORD, HE HASN’T LEFT YET?” Papyrus's voice startled the two as he opened the door. Apparently he hadn't left the vicinity yet. “HONESTLY, OF ALL MONSTERS TO WALTZ IN HERE AND GET BLACKOUT DRUNK…DO YOU EVEN HAVE ANYONE THAT COULD WALK YOU HOME?” He remained outside, only peeking his head in through the door to be heard.

Well Horror probably could, but he had no way of contacting him. He did get that phone. He wasn't sure if he still had it on him and even then he didn't have the number or a phone.

That's a no.

Dusk shook his head even though it was hardly visible to the Papyrus.

Papyrus sighed dramatically. “FINE. AS A RESPONSIBLE CITIZEN I SHALL ACCOMPANY YOU TO YOUR ABODE TO ENSURE YOUR SAFETY.”

“i’ll take my chances sleeping on the sidewalk.”

“YOU CAN’T EVEN GET TO THE SIDEWALK ON YOUR OWN.”

“i guess my chances aren't looking too good. my doom is cemented. maybe even set in stone. just leave me here.”

Papyrus groaned at the puns. “I AM GOING TO GO OVER THERE AND PICK YOU UP AND THEN YOU ARE GOING TO DIRECT ME TO YOUR HOUSE, UNDERSTAND?”

“mmmm no.”

Then he was picked up by warm hands. Oh, Grillby picked him up. He walked him over to the door and was handed over to Papyrus.

The second the two were outside, Grillby hastily closed the door.

“the fuck happened to snowdin?” he asked.

Papyrus huffed, “WE AREN’T IN SNOWDIN.”

He took note of the sky. It was sundown. “we made it to the surface?”

“NO.”

“oh.”

“DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHERE YOUR HOUSE IS?”

“shouldn't you know?”

“I’M NOT YOUR BROTHER. YOUR BROTHER IS DEAD. YOU KILLED HIM,” Papyrus said coldly.

Man, his mind was scrambled. For a second he thought there’s been a reset. What timeline was this? No he was kidnapped by Nightmare—and then they were kicked out…Oh yeah. This is the “Hub” or whatever.

He drank way too much.

“i didn't want to…”

“I DIDN’T EITHER! BUT THAT DOESN’T CHANGE IT, NOW DOES IT?!”

He hasn't heard Papyrus get this mad in a while. Wait. “what do you mean you ‘didn't either’?”

Papyrus came to a halt. “IN MY UNIVERSE, I KILLED YOU.”

He may have been drunk out of his mind, but even he knew that didn't sound right. “you wouldn't.”

“WELL, I DID.”

“you can't.”

“CLEARLY I CAN.”

He couldn't even kill the human. How's he supposed to believe he would ever kill him?

“you can't kill the human but you killed me, is that what i’m hearing?”

Papyrus grit his teeth. Despite the conversation, he was still carrying him. “KILLING THEM WASN’T GOING TO STOP THEM. KILLING YOU DID. AND IT WAS AN ACCIDENT.”

“you never have accidents with your magic.”

“YOU DON’T KNOW ME. YOU AREN’T MY BROTHER! YOU CAN’T JUDGE ME ANYWAY.”

“...you can put me down now.”

“YOU’LL FALL ON YOUR FACE. NO.”

Alas, poor Papyrus. It wouldn't matter how much he reminded himself that he wasn't the same Sans. They were so similar to each other's brother.

And he didn't even remember where his new house was. If this turned out to be a torture method that Nightmare came up with, he wouldn't be surprised.

“so what, you're gonna aimlessly carry me around until you happen to find my house?”

“I GUESS SO!”

Of course.

He resumed walking, Dusk decided to accept it. It was an excuse to be lazy. Even though he hasn’t been “lazy” in years.

Then again, he hasn’t been carried by Papyrus like this in years.

[frannyzooey]

It has been a long time since I've been as invested in a story as I was in "Nights Like This One".

It's had me by the throat for days: the kind of obsession that has your phone falling into your face because you keep nodding off while trying to read just one paragraph more, the kind of "read with every spare minute of your day" in between zoom calls and at red stop lights, the kind of story that has you thinking about it when you're supposed to be focusing on everything else.

The pre and post outbreak plot of this story is ingenious -- it scratched an itch I never knew I had. I was so lulled into a sense of safety and calm during the first part - it was so romantic, so tender, so intimate and warm. Their relationship progression was beautiful and realistic, her self esteem progression found through his love had me wanting to weep, and there were so many parts I found myself rereading because they were so impactful: when Sarah asks if she can call her "mom", the mention of "daddy" for the first time (jfc I wanted to die with arousal), the complex feelings she had about her family and how he soothed every insecurity away with his attention and care. The descriptions of her mother's house particularly were so gorgeous and weighted with emotion.

The dates on the top of the chapters....when I saw Outbreak Day, my heart plummeted to my stomach. And when the phone call cut out on him saying "I love you", I genuinely cried.

The fact that you spent so much time and care building up the first half of this story and the slow, easy way you walked us through their love made the transition to the second half of this nothing short of masterful -- a legit fucking masterclass in writing, I'm not even joking.

The way you described Joel's self hatred was phenomenal, especially for not showing us exactly what happened during those 15 years. When he kept pushing her away, my heart was breaking -- and when he said "a summer fling", I legit cried. My pillow was w e t with tears as my own heart broke...but then you mended it better with the most amazingly beautiful paragraphs like this:

"He looked at her, and he loved her, loved her so much it burned, like something eternal, something that no amount of time, nor distance, nor the end of the world as they had known it, could kill off. He'd loved her, perhaps, since that first moment he saw her, looking hollow and bereft on the threshold of her mother's house. He loved her in every death, every birth, every reiteration of himself."

It would take me days to compile a list of every passage I loved, and even longer to tell you just how much I loved them and why. My heart is bursting at the thought of their love, so much it hurts.

I am going to be thinking about this for a very long time, and I am genuinely, truly, gobsmacked at how brilliant your writing is.

You are so fucking talented it's insane.

I could never even begin to thank you enough for sharing this with us, and consider myself the luckiest to have read it.

Thank you ❤️

(my masterlist got deleted somehow idk?)

hi, hello - my name is sara and i write depraved things about pedro pascal characters. i'm not super into writing one-shots (love reading them tho) so all my stories are in series format. my DMs are always open, i love talking fics, pedro, tlou, narcos, and anything at all regarding men old enough to be my father.

happy reading, i appreciate you all tremendously <3

To the Light [ joel miller ]

"He was such a greedy fuck, when had that happened? What was it about her that had turned him into this… desperate, frenzied, fucking insatiable man that had stooped to the point of planning his entire day around getting a glimpse of her. It wasn’t just one thing, he knew that, rather it was an amalgamation of everything about her, everything he could see, everything he knew, and the large cavern of things he didn’t know, but wanted to so badly it ate away at him, like a virus, like fucking cordyceps, surging through his body and altering his brain chemistry, his ambitions and intent, so that it was just her, his sole focus was just her."

summary: Joel finds a young woman being held hostage by a group of men while he's out on patrol one day. He brings her back to Jackson, where she's given the opportunity to have something resembling a real life, for the first time. The two of them orbit around each other, destined to crash, if both of their reservations don't get in the way.

pairing: joel miller x ofc rating: 18+ mdni word count: 96.8k (completed)

see tags and warnings on ao3

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Joel finds the love of his life lost in the woods.

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Read insatiable (a To the Light one-shot) here.

Read hearth (a To the Light one-shot) here.

Dawn [ javier peña ]

"It had been wrong, back then, his feelings for her. He'd known that and that's why he'd never let anything happen between the two of them. But he'd always been weak. That first time he'd seen her after Richie had gone off to fight a war just as brutal and useless and the one he'd been fighting out in Colombia, that first time he'd really seen her— just a glimpse as she left the market, bag hoisted up on her hip, long, wavy hair bouncing behind her, shapely legs visible in that little yellow sundress that hugged her waist just right— he'd been a fucking goner."

summary: Javier Peña returns to his hometown after leaving the DEA. He doesn't want the undeserving praise everyone is trying to push on him, he doesn't really want anything at all, beyond a quiet life on his father's ranch, such a stark contrast to the atrocities he'd witnessed over the ten years away. But there's one familiar face that he can't seem to shake no matter how hard he tries.

pairing: javier peña x ofc rating: 18+ mdni word count: 80.8k (completed) a.n. first chapter of my new Javi fic is up! each chapter will be named after a Lana Del Rey song with a corresponding lyric (idk Javi is Lana coded to me). I hope you enjoy <3

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Javier Peña falls for his best friend's little sister.

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Nights Like This One [ joel miller ]

"Joel couldn't resist the tug any longer, finally succumbing to the dull ache at the base of his spine as he turned around and locked eyes with her— bright fucking blue, twinkling animatedly when they met his. Most of the time her eyes looked hollow, devastatingly so, but he'd noticed that when they got into these bickering matches her eyes lightened, and so then how was he ever expected to stop?"

summary: Joel Miller is hired by an elderly woman to fix up her home. However, in the middle of the renovations, she dies and her daughter, Lily, moves from California to Austin to live in her mother's home. Joel continues to work on the house despite the two of them constantly butting heads. Tensions rise and the two are destined to crash whether they like it or not.

(Initially takes place pre-outbreak, story spans through outbreak day, all the way to 2023).

pairing: joel miller x ofc rating: 18+ mdni word count: 142.6k (completed) a.n. hi my friends! a few things: i did change sarah's age because i wanted to, i have creative liberty this is MY FUCKIN STORY!! lol. also i know nothing about construction, so i apologize, watch me make shit up with only google as my guide. please don't hate or be mean to my OC, she's going through some shit and the roles will be reversed later on after outbreak day, so let her be the emotionally unavailable, cold one for now. chapter length will be much shorter than most of my other fics solely because this has so many chapters. i'm writing it more in novel format than fic format, so forgive me. blame my useless, $120k creative writing degree. i hope you enjoy this. i'm having a lot of fun writing it.

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Joel Miller finds the love of his life right before the world ends.

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The Human Condition [ therapist!joel miller au ]

"Joel passed his palm over his mouth, his eyes drifting over to the clock on his office wall for perhaps the fifth time in the last thirty minutes. He dreaded his one o'clock appointment, but not for the reasons that he should. He dreaded it because he looked forward to it far more than was appropriate, for reasons that would surely get him fired."

summary: Violet Wood is lost, thinks perhaps she's been lost since the day she was born.

Joel Miller is a psychiatrist who has experienced a tremendous loss of his own.

Neither of them are expecting each other.

pairing: joel miller x ofc rating: 18+ mdni word count: 26.4+ (ongoing series - 5/10 chapters up) warnings: extreme trigger warnings for suicidal behavior/attempts, mental health discussion, EDs, self-harm, depression, anxiety a.n. i have been thinking about this forever, and i'm really excited to start sharing, albeit slowly. hope you all enjoy <3

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The Joel Miller Therapist AU

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Sanctuary [ javier peña ]

"She glanced over at him, her lips hinting at a smile as his pretty brown eyes locked on hers. She wanted him to tell her something now, not that she had taken him here as a greedy means of give and take, even though that’s all their relationship was. Give and take. Just sex. If she couldn’t know his last name or why he had scars all over his chest, then she wanted to know what he thought was beautiful, what he thought was ugly, what existed in both spaces for him."

summary: Takes place after the third season-- Javier moves to San Francisco to escape what he'd witnessed in Colombia over the past several years. The DEA is desperate to get him down to Mexico to help take down the Guadalajara Cartel, but Javier isn't so sure he wants to continue down that path. His decision only becomes increasingly more difficult when he meets a bartender named Emma, whose commitment issues seem to mirror his own.

pairing: javier peña x ofc rating: 18+ mdni word count: 93k (complete)

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Javier Peña meets his match in the form of a little bartender in San Francisco.

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[bitingdrivers]

👔 2 times max saw daniel without his suit (a very loose definition of the word ‘without’) and one time daniel saw max in one. bones au, maxiel, 1.4k words. also, there's a smallest vaguest mention of death and viscera, be prepared!

1

Max makes his way through the floor, passing agents who are going home after a long day. Without people the floor looks empty yet cluttered at the same time – dozens of identical desks covered in papers, files, and dirty mugs. 

The office is dark when Max finally reaches its glass doors, an old lamp painting the room with orange light. 

Daniel is sitting at his desk. His suit jacket is draped over his chair, the shoulder holsters are a stark contrast to his white shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. 

He is drinking. The whiskey looks like amber in the warm light of the lamp. 

“Daniel,” Max says as he enters the office. “Are you okay?” He tentatively moves further into the room. 

Daniel looks up at him and breathes out “Yeah. It's just...harder. When it's a kid.” His voice is hoarse. 

Max nods before sitting down in the chair opposite him. “Yes, I understand–” 

“No, it's-” Daniel groans, rubbing his face. “I have a niece and a nephew. They are close to the age the victim was. It was just…hard. Seeing his skeleton. So small.” His voice is barely a whisper at the end.

Max didn't know Daniel had a niece or a nephew, but he supposes it's normal. Maybe he would be an uncle too, if he still talked to his sister. If he knew where she even was. 

He looks out the window. It's so quiet he can hear the sounds of the street below.

“I-I was at Waco. Branch Davidian compound. I helped identify children who had been killed in the fire. 17 of them,” Max says watching headlights pass by like shooting stars.

“Are you saying you get used to it?” Daniel says. His knuckles are white from gripping the empty glass.

Daniel’s collar is unbuttoned, his tie a little loose. Max looks back out the window. 

“No. I'm saying you'll never get used to it.”

The reflection of the lamplight in Daniel's eyes looks like the stars as well.

2

“How long will this take?” Daniel is sitting on the table in the bone room. His suit is covered in pieces of flesh, cartilage, and bone. 

“As long as it takes to remove all the evidence.” Max helps him remove the jacket and puts it in an evidence bag. 

Daniel moves to start unbuttoning his shirt, but Max stops him. “Don't touch anything, Daniel! You might compromise the evidence.” Max loosens and takes off Daniel's tie. It has honey badgers printed on it. It's not completely ruined by the viscera, so Max hopes Daniel will get it back. 

“So. Uh. Do you think it was suicide? The guy tries to rob the bank, but it doesn't work. He blows himself up to escape the jail?” Max can see Daniel's throat bobbing as he unbuttons his shirt. 

“Carlos said the bomb was triggered via two-way radio. He probably had an accomplice,” Max says as he takes off Daniel's shirt. “Maybe we can track the sig–Oh.”

“Wh-what? Is there goop on me?” Daniel jumps off the table and swivels his head around to check his back. 

“No, no. It's just, I didn't know you have more tattoos,” Max is used to seeing the three on his pinky and the rose on his thumb, and sometimes he catches a glimpse of “free,” “love,” or the cupid inked on his forearms. Now Max sees Daniel's tanned and muscled torso, his smooth chest and, more importantly, his tattoos.

“Oh. Yeah, I had a lot of fun in my youth.” He looks at the astronaut on his left shoulder with a fond smile. 

“You say it like you're an old man,” Max chuckles and drops to his knees. He is about to undo the belt when Daniel jerks back. 

“Woah–uh. Wha-what are you doing?” Daniel stammers, looking down at Max. His eyes are big.

“There's more evidence on your pants. I of course need to remove them too,” Max explains. Daniel pauses, looking into Max’s eyes. Then he nods and looks away. 

Max quickly makes work of Daniel's belt and the pants fall down. There are more tattoos – colorful and big – wrapping around his thigh. 

Max wants to ask more about them when he looks up and. “Daniel. What?” 

“Huh?” Daniel looks down at him. Max can see the tensed muscles of his thighs. Daniel's knuckles are white from gripping the edge of the table. 

“Why do you have… Bring pink?”

Daniel looks at his boxers. Then he exhales and his face relaxes. “Oh. Yeah. These are my… favorites. Don't like to be boring, you know?”

Max is glad to see Daniel’s big smile is back. “You remind me of this bird–” Max tugs at the pants pooled at Daniel’s ankles so he can step out of them, “–Cinnyricinclus leucogaster.”

Daniel makes a confused noise.

Max stands up and moves to put away the pants. “Violet-backed starling. The males have this bright violet plumage to attract mates.”

“Hah, yeah. I'm all about attracting mates.”

When Max turns around, Daniel is looking right at him. 

+1

The building is mostly empty as Daniel makes his way to the lab. This case was not the easiest one, so he is glad that it's finally over. He spent the last few hours going through all the paperwork to make sure the guy will be locked in prison for the next 15 years. 

It has become their tradition to go for a drink after closing a case and Daniel is excited to get himself a beer and listen to Max explaining to him the details of this case as if Daniel is hearing about them for the first time. 

Daniel is just rounding the corner to the glass doors of the lab when he notices Charles talking to someone. Daniel can only see the back of the man – his broad shoulders hugged tightly by a black suit jacket and long legs clad in matching trousers. The man is nodding to Charles’ words when Charles notices Daniel and says hi to him. 

The man turns around and – it's Max. His hair is gelled back, the crisp white shirt is unbuttoned in the collar. Daniel can see the hollow of his throat.

Daniel has never seen Max in a full suit before. In the lab he usually wears a pair of tight jeans and his blue lab coat paired with a basic t-shirt underneath. And outside of the lab he just swaps the coat for a black bomber jacket.

The one time Max had to testify in court, he simply put on a blue shirt that Charles produced seemingly out of thin air. Daniel thought he looked good in blue and even told Max that. Max thanked him and then said that an attorney told him once he should always wear blue when testifying because it disposes the jury from his, apparently, “cold and unpleasant personality.” Daniel hopes this attorney loses every case she gets. 

“Hello Daniel.” Max’s voice brings him out of his thoughts, and Daniel notices an expensive-looking watch on Max’s wrist when he lifts his hand in a little wave. 

“Bones! You look smart tonight.” Daniel tears his eyes away from the way Max’s jacket hugs his waist.

“I thought I always look smart?” Max asks, tilting his head. 

“No-uh. I mean yes. It's just a figure of speech. Means you look good.” Daniel has to loosen his tie a little bit. Maybe they already turned off the building's air-conditioning for the night. Probably so, Max looks a little flushed too. “Should we go somewhere fancy instead of the Founding Fathers then?”  

“Oh. I am sorry Daniel, I can't go with you tonight. There's a party with the university's sponsors and Lewis made us all go,” Max says, looking something between annoyed and sad. 

“Yeah, he threatened us with taking away our parking spots. Very authoritarian of him,” Charles huffs, rolling his eyes.

Now that Daniel is looking, Charles is also dressed in a suit.

“Oh. That's fine, I can survive one night without a glass of beer. Probably better for my liver, right?” Daniel chuckles and rubs his neck as Max furrows his brows. 

Daniel opens his mouth to say something else, although he's not sure what exactly, but Lewis’ voice interrupts him. 

“Alright, everyone ready? The car will be there in 5, we should move.” He claps his hands and moves towards the exit. 

“Have fun tonight, Bones,” Daniel smiles at Max, takes one final look at his suit and turns away. 

He will still go to the bar, but now he won't be listening to Max’s chatter and he definitely will be drinking something stronger than beer.

[grapejuice32]

I hate you, no really, I do

Rafe Cameron x Pogue!reader

Masterlist

Prologue << Part 1 >> Part 2

The first time the two of you hooked up had been at a party at Tannyhill, you had attended it alone, the only reason you had gone being that there would be expensive alcohol present. Rafe had spotted you before you managed to even get onto your second drink and accused you of 'crashing his party' to which you merely scoffed and told him that you didn't see a guest list keeping track of who was and wasn't there so it didn't count as you crashing it.

What you had expected was for him to throw an insult your way, something about you being a Pogue, or just an antagonising comment to try and provoke you. But instead, he laughed, like actually laughed and said 'touche'. Now obviously that surprised you, but what surprised you more was when he asked if you wanted to join him was he pointed to the empty balcony on the second floor of the house. You weren't sure why you nodded, but you did and followed him through the maze like halls of his house till you reached the balcony.

The two of you had stayed up there for the rest of the night, watching as the crowd slowly dispersed as it got later and later, yet you still didn't leave. At the start of the night, his hand had laid next to yours on the railing of the balcony, then his arm was slung over your shoulders, it was then wrapped around your waist and by the time everyone had cleared off he had his hands placed on your hips, slowly drawing you in towards him. As he pulled you closer, you'd trailed your hands up his chest to rest on his broad shoulders, both of you breathing heavily as he'd leant down to press his lips to yours. It had escalated, he pushed your back against the balcony railing as he trailed open mouthed kisses down your neck, nipping at the skin and leaving marks that you found the next day, but despite the both of you clearly wanting more, making out was as far as you'd gone. The next morning you'd woken up next to him in his large bed, he had an arm thrown around your waist and his chest was pressed to your back. It was that morning when you joined him in the shower that you had properly hooked up for the first time, he'd pressed your back against the cold, wet tiles of the shower an-

You shook your head, clearing the thoughts from your mind as you washed the conditioner out of your hair and turned the handle on the shower, turning it off. After stepping out and wrapping a towel around your body, leaving your hair as it was to let it air dry, you unlocked your bathroom door and padded your bare feet along the wooden floor of your house towards your bedroom. You turned on your lights and jumped as you saw a figure sat on your bed, "Jesus, Rafe. What the fuck?"

But his lip didn't curl up in amusement as it usually did, instead he just remained sat with his shaved head resting in his palms, his elbows leant on his spread knees. "Rafe?" You asked softly, slightly concerned, "Did something happen?"

" 'S jus' my dad, you know?" he began, not looking up as you walked to stand in front of him, resting your hands on his shoulders, "He's jus' hassling' me, callin' me over n' over, orderin' me around, tellin' me what to do, 's if it's not me that's been handlin' things. 'S me that's been takin' care'f things, not Rose." He still didn't look at you as he continued but he moved his hands to rest on your hips as he rested the top of his head against your stomach, "And he's jus' goin' on and on 'bout Sarah, 's always 'bout her for him, no matter how many times she jus' fuckin' screws us over for John B."

"Rafe." You warned, hating when he he spoke like that about Sarah and John B when he knew they were your friends.

He didn't verbally acknowledge you, but he went silent before he mumbled, " 's just frustrating', you know?"

"I know," you sighed, the two of you had been hooking up for long enough for you to have heard of all the many times that Ward had picked Sarah over Rafe. You constantly tried to tell Rafe that Ward was using him because he knew that Rafe wanted to prove himself, but he wouldn't listen, insisting that Ward was just hard on him because Rafe would take over the company. The both of you went silent and your mind drifted to the cross, you pressed your lips together and looked up at the ceiling, contemplating if you should bring it up, but you did anyway, "Rafe, why won't you give it to us, it belongs to Pope's family." You didn't need to name the object for him to know what you were speaking about.

His grip on your hips tightened and he scoffed, " 'm not fuckin' going talking' about this again. I found it, okay? Me."

"No, we found it first. You know that." You spoke bitterly.

"Yeah, and you left it lying on the fucking floor." He reminded, standing up, his figure now towering over yours as he ran his hands over his head in annoyance.

"Pope was dying Rafe, dying. Of course we fucking left it there! But it's ours, it's his!." You continued to argue, not wanting to let it go. Not after you'd ended up stranded on Poguelandia for that cross.

"Well, 's not my fuckin' fault he was dying is it? Besides, didn't seem like it mattered all that much to him when he was gonna let it get lost in the ocean, did it?" He taunted, not phased when tears of frustration lined your eyes, " 'm not talkin' 'bout this anymore tonight."

You nodded, more to yourself than him, biting the inside of your cheek as you willed the tears not to fall. "Get out."

" 'scuse me?" His voice raised in shock.

"You heard me," you spoke sternly, "I don't want to be around you right now."

He chuckled dryly, " 's right coming' from you. But fine, 's not like I wanna stay in this shit hole longer than I have to. 'S fuckin' disgusting, not that I should've expected any less from a Pogue."

You smiled sarcastically as a stray tear rolled down your cheek at the insult, "Off you go then."

Guilt briefly flashed through him at the sight of you crying but he pushed it away and gave you a tight lipped smile, "Don't need to tell me twice."

That was the last thing he said before he stormed out, slamming your bedroom door behind him, causing you to flinch as you stood there in silence still wrapped in your towel as you listened to the sound of your front door slamming behind him and the sound of his car starting up and driving away. You exhaled a shake breath, your fingers brushing under your eyes to wipe away the tears that had managed to escape. You let your towel drop onto the floor, pulling on underwear and a t-shirt before you climbed into bed and drank from the warm, unfinished beer that you'd started earlier and lit up a joint, prepared to numb away the feelings from the argument. Not that you would admit it had upset you so much, not when you were supposed to hate him, and not when you were sure that he hated you.

Please lmk what you guys think, I'd love to hear from you! I'll also be happy to try and write any requests you may have <3

[ask-the-crimson-king]

The thing is, Magnus very nearly took that fate.

From Fury of Magnus:

But it never came.

The Legions reached the edges of the galaxy, and Magnus swelled with pride as Horus Lupercal and his Sons of Horus raised the Emperor’s lightning-bolt banner on the last world to be brought to compliance.

This never happened, he said, his mind one with his father.

+No, but it should have. It so very nearly did.+

Magnus’ mind flew back to Prospero, and he saw the world he knew and loved, its people flourishing, even passing on what they knew to visitors from all across the Imperium. His mind circled the planet, seeing fresh cities and arcologies, wonders he had never known, structures that bore all the hallmarks of Perturabo’s wondrous designs.

Where am I? he asked, not finding himself within the Pyramid of Photep or any of the other cities of glass and gold.

+Look to Terra,+ said his father.

Back to the birthrock he flew, and there, deep in the heart of the world, Magnus found himself in the great cavern of machines, sat upon the same Golden Throne upon which he had so recently seen his father.

Fear touched Magnus as he remembered seeing a vision of this, his physical body ravaged and husked out by the unimaginable cost of maintaining the portal.

I have seen this, he said. It will kill me.

+Look closer, my son.+

The vast doors before the throne were open, and a beatific light issued from what lay beyond. This was not the vision of his doom he had been shown, for here his face was serene and vacant, merely a vessel of flesh and blood. His subtle body was entirely absent. His father felt his confusion.

+Your spirit is by my side, as it is now. We fly the Great Ocean as explorers of the furthest reaches of consciousness. Masters of time and space. As we always dreamed.+

Why show me this? It never happened, and only twists the knife of regret deeper.

+The past is set, but not all futures are lost, no matter how broken they appear. This future, or at least a version of it, can still come to pass.+

The Emperor then goes on to explain to Magnus that a vision of the future, where things are mostly happy, is still feasible. Magnus only needs to come back to the Emperor's side, and do one last thing:

To have meaning. That was the last missing piece.

Then why do I hesitate?

‘There’s a price, isn’t there?’ he said at last. ‘No matter what the poets say, forgiveness isn’t free. It always comes with a price.’

‘It does,’ agreed the Emperor. ‘And it is a heavy price, but a necessary one. Your mind and body are still your own, but the warriors of your Legion are damned. In truth, they were damned the moment the first signs of the flesh change became manifest. Their bodies carry the seeds of their own destruction, and no gene-craft of mine nor the Selenar can undo it. You can come back to me, but your Legion cannot.’

Magnus felt a cold hand squeeze his heart, but his father was not yet done.

‘But I will build you a new Legion, a mighty host of warriors greater than any now living. Plans are already in motion to bring about their inception. Soon, you will command warriors the likes of which the galaxy has never seen, whose flesh will be flawless, whose fists are steel and whose hearts are armoured in adamantium!’

‘You would give me a new Legion?’

‘I would, and they will be the pride of the new Imperium.’

Magnus said nothing, picturing this fantastical new future, one in which his Legion sons were free of corruption, free of the fear that dogged their every step. Free from the dark shadow within them all that threatened to consume them.

[. . .]

It was all he had ever wanted… And yet…

‘How could I fight at your side, knowing I had condemned my sons to death?’ he said. ‘I would look upon these new warriors and see in them the faces of my betrayed Legion. What kind of father would I be were I to forsake them? How could you ask this of me?’

‘It is the only way, Magnus. In truth, your sons are already dead. Within no more than a few years rampant mutations will overtake even the strongest of them. One way or another they will die.’

‘I… I cannot abandon them, father,’ he said, his hands clenching into fists. ‘Their fate is not yet set. I will find a way to save them. I must.’

‘Please, brother,’ said Vulkan, taking a step towards him. ‘Come back to us, I beg you.’

[. . .]

Magnus turned back to Vulkan and said, ‘Would you sacrifice them [the Salamanders]? Would you betray even one of them for your own desire?’

‘I could not,’ he said, his deep tones heavy with grief and his right hand sliding down to the warhammer Urdrakule at his belt.

Magnus felt the end of his staff transform, becoming a bladed spear-tip once more.

‘Then why would you believe that I could?’ he roared.

They moved at the same instant. Magnus’ arm drew back to cast his staff at the Emperor. It was the perfect throw, his aim true and deadly. All his fury was bound into this strike.

Fury that his father had put this awful choice before him. Fury that He believed it was an offer Magnus would ever accept. But most of all, it was fury that he almost had.

So, he nearly did take up the position on the throne, in the name of a better future. I agree that people saying this is selfish are being kinda. I don't know. Lame? About the complexity of the situation surrounding his choice, but ultimately he chose to stay with his Legion and his Sons.

‘If I must be damned with my sons I will be full damned, brother.’

(◔_◔) "Magnus was selfish, he could have sat on the golden throne and rule humanity!"

The wonderful fate set by the emperor in question:

free png for reaction image purpose:

[luviwon]

my pretty princess ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

to sunoo, you’re more than a person—you’re his perfect doll, delicate and untouchable. his love is as beautiful as it is suffocating, wrapping around you like silk ribbons, tight and unyielding. in his carefully crafted world, you’re his princess, too precious for the outside, too fragile for anyone but him. and he’ll do anything to keep you safe in his arms—even if it means keeping you locked away forever.

pairing: kim sunoo x female reader

warnings: obsessive behavior, possessiveness, themes of isolation, implied confinement, unhealthy relationships, emotional manipulation, yandere themes. nothing explicit, but please read with caution!

wk: 1,5k ❔

the silk bow felt tighter now, digging into your waist as you shifted slightly in the chair. sunoo knelt before you, his hands trailing over the folds of the pink dress he’d dressed you in that morning. the soft fabric shimmered in the dim light of the room, casting a faint glow over his sharp features. he looked up at you, his dark eyes wide and shining, like he was looking at something sacred.

“you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, almost breathless. “like a dream. my perfect princess.”

his fingers brushed against your wrist, cool and gentle, as if he were afraid you might break under his touch. you didn’t flinch. you never flinched. not when he kissed your hand, not when he pressed his forehead to your shoulder and murmured things you didn’t fully understand. it was easier that way—staying still, staying quiet. the stillness made him happy.

“do you know how much i love you?” he asked, his voice trembling with emotion. he stood slowly, his hands sliding up to rest on your shoulders. “do you feel it? how much i need you?”

you nodded, the motion small and automatic. his grip tightened, not painfully, but enough to remind you of how much larger he was, how easily he could hold you in place if he wanted to. not that he ever had to. you never tried to leave.

the room around you was soft and warm, filled with things he’d chosen for you—lace curtains, pastel furniture, a vanity covered in delicate bottles of perfume you never touched. the only window was covered, its heavy drapes drawn tightly shut. you didn’t know what was outside, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to.

“you’re so quiet,” sunoo said, tilting his head as he studied your face. his fingers brushed your cheek, and you felt the cool metal of the rings he always wore. “sometimes i wonder if you’re happy. are you happy, princess?”

his question hung in the air, heavy and expectant. you hesitated, the faintest flicker of something—doubt, maybe—crossing your mind. but then you saw the way he was looking at you, his eyes filled with something so desperate it almost hurt to meet his gaze.

“yes,” you said softly. “i’m happy.”

his face lit up instantly, his smile boyish and bright, as if you’d given him the greatest gift in the world. “i knew it,” he said, his voice trembling with relief. “i knew you loved being here with me.”

he pulled you to your feet, his hands never leaving your shoulders. his touch was firm but careful, like he was guiding a doll to stand. “you’re perfect,” he said again, almost to himself. “my perfect princess. no one else could ever be like you.”

you glanced toward the door—painted white, always locked. it wasn’t that you wanted to leave. you just… wondered. what was beyond it? the thought flickered briefly in your mind before fading as seonu cupped your face in his hands, forcing your attention back to him.

“stay with me forever,” he said, his voice low and pleading. “promise me, princess. promise me you’ll never leave.”

“i promise,” you whispered, because you knew it was what he wanted to hear.

he smiled again, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. “good girl,” he murmured. “you’re all i need. just you and me. nothing else matters.”

and as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead, you wondered if he was right. maybe nothing else did matter. maybe this was all there ever was.

[numericalc4t]

Levi birthday!!

Modern au

Warnings: uh not proof read and fluff

Day one: Happy birthday Levi

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When I open my eyes I noticed the left side of the bed was still warm. I looked and saw Levi fast asleep in bed. Today was one of the rare days that I woke up before him. I stared at his features for a moment. When he wasn’t wearing a scowl he looked very soft. His lips were slightly parted as he breathed softly. I smiled softly knowing he felt safe enough to sleep like this around me, to show his vulnerability. After staring at him for a moment I silently and carefully slipped from the bed. I stepped into my slippers and walked down the hall yawing. When I flicked on the kitchen light I saw that Levi had cleaned up last nights mess from dinner. My heart swelled at the sight knowing he was just as tired as I was yet he still cleaned up. I walked over to the cabinet and took out some of his tea, setting on the counter while I set some water to boil. While waiting for that I began to think of what I should make for breakfast, he really liked the biscuits I made the other day. I began to grab the stuff for the biscuits and set them one the counter, I had to scroll though my phone for a bit before finding the recipe.

The water was finally done boiling and I turned the stove off and poured the hot water into two cups. I left the tea to steep while I mixed together the ingredients. I had to work fast because Levi only stayed asleep for a shot amount of time after I get up. I managed to make the filling pretty quickly and I already had the dough from the other day, I threw some of the dough on a pan and into the oven to bake. It only took 15 minutes to bake so I hoped he would stay an asleep till then. I took the tea bags out the tea and set the cups on the table. While the treats baked I washed my dishes and mess so he wouldn’t freak when he woke up. I heard the door handle to the bedroom begin to jingle and knew Levi must’ve woken up. The timer went off at the same time so I quickly took the food out the oven and ran down the hallway to keep him there. When I got to the entrance of the hallway I was greeted by a shirtless Levi and I couldn’t help but notice the scratch marks on his shoulders, causing me to blush slightly. He looked at me tiredly and I walked down the hallway so I could be closer to him. When my face was mere inches away from his I whispered against his lips “Merry Christmas, my love.” He placed his hands on my waist and leaned down to press a tender kiss to my lips, I smiled against his as I kissed back. When he pulled away he just looked into my eyes for a moment before pulling away from me entirely. “I have to go shower since Hange and Erwin will be over.” He turned away from me and walked back in the room to proceed with his morning routine.

While he started the shower I was busy rushing to fill these biscuits. It’s funny how when you need something done fast it’s takes longer than it usually would. I managed to finishing filling and plating them by the time he was opening the door. I placed them onto the table and sat myself in my chair. When he came into the kitchen his face contorted into a confused look when he saw the breakfast. He knows I don’t usually cook because um I’m not very good at it but he was grateful nonetheless. Wordlessly he sat down in-front of his plate and took a sip of his tea. The sounds of drinking and chewing filled the room, no words needed to be exchanged for him to understand. He knows this is sort of a nonchalant way of me saying happy birthday without the words. He expressed to me that he never really liked his the idea of his birthday since he didn’t see a point. He said when he was a kid his birthday was just like any other day to him and didn’t wish to celebrate it now. I hated the thought of doing NOTHING for him on his birthday so instead of huge gifts and what not I decided to do little discreet things to help out.

When we both finished I grabbed the plates and began to wash them before I felt Levi press his chest against my back and place his hands on mine stopping my movements, “you don’t have to do this love, I can do it myself.” I smile softly to myself and turn around to look at him. His eyes are filled with nothing but warmth and appreciation, “but I want to. Because I love you.” I placed a gentle kiss to his lips before turning around and continuing the dishes. He let go of me sighing and walked into the living to tidy up a bit(not that it was a mess anyways) before hange comes and messes things up. I finished the dishes and when I turned around I saw Levi reaching for the broom much to my dismay.

I sighed knowing he was going to clean something and there was no use in trying to stop him. I went to the room to shower and freshen up since he already did. I took a quick shower so I could have time to do some makeup(or not if you don’t like makeup). I just put on some light eyeliner and mascara and got dressed. Walking out the room I found Levi relaxing on the couch drinking tea, I smiled softly at the sight. I took out my phone to take a photo but he spoke up startling me,

“Don’t you know I don’t like photos.” I sighed placing my phone back into my pocket. I walked over and sat in the couch with him and before I could fully relax. A loud ding on my phone announced I had gotten a message. I glanced down to see who it’s was, it was the repair store. I quickly turned off my phone and made sure Levi hadn’t seen it.

“Hey Levi are you okay if I head out to the store for a few minutes? I need to pick up some things before later.” He looked at me as I got up and followed suit.

“Why wouldn’t I be? Am I not coming?” I smiled internally at him. He had the look of a lost puppy and I almost felt bad for leaving him on his BRITHDAY but I knew I had to.

“No levi I have to run these alone.” His brows furrowed a bit,

“why?”

“Levi, just, because I have to. I’ll only be a few. I promise I’ll go as fast as I can.” He gave me a bitter look but nodded internally understanding. He sat back down and the cat came trotting down the hallway, finally awake. “Look the cats here to keep you company.” I smiled softly and he just looked at me disinterestedly. I leaned down to give him a quick kiss to his lips and when I pulled away I turned around to leave. I grabbed my jacket off the hook and took off out the door. As soon as I closed the door I opened my messages to text back the store. My feet hit the snow covered pavement creating little footprints in my wake. Snow was falling softly as I made the walk to the store. When I walked in the scent of strong cleaner, and what other chemicals were kept here, hit me. They guy at the register looked up from his phone and with bored tone greeted me,

“hi welcome to [insert name of store]. Did you need help with anything?”

“Um hi, yes I’m here to pick up a tea set. It’s should be under the name [your name] Ackerman.” He scanned through the names on the computer for a moment before getting up to grab it from the back. When he brought it out I nearly cried. It looked stunning. He gently handed to me and I handed him my card to pay. While he processed the transaction I carefully picked it up out of the box and inspected it. They had made it look brand new and I softly gasped at how well they replicated every detail. I set it back into the box as the guy handed me my card back. I thanked him and left, holding the box with extra care. I headed to the store across the street to pick up some other things for Hange and Erwin so Levi wouldn’t be suspicious of the box. By the time I was done in there the snow fall had begun to pick up a little bit. The icy air nipped at my cheeks and I hurried home wanting to warm up. When I checked my phone it read 1:30. Crap I took longer in that last store than I wanted to. Just as I was about to turn into our street I realized I forgot to pick up ingredients for dinner. Mentally cursing myself I turned around and hurried back to the grocery store.

By the time I finally had gotten back home it was 2:40. I walked in and set the bags down on the counter, hiding the box in one of the gift bags. I began getting to work since by the time I was done Hange would be here already since I was starting late on dinner.

As soon as I had taken off my apron I heard a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it.” As Levi got the door I played the food, setting it down on the table. When Hange came into my view i smiled and strode over to her to give her a hug. She hugged back gently and when I let go I moved to giver Erwin one as well. After a moment we separated and sat in our respective spots. I sat next to Levi and Hange across from me. 

“This looks amazing [your name].” Erwin was always so respectful. My cheeked flushed and I thanked him. Hange on the other hand had already begun digging in without a second thought. We all ate while chatting about what we’ve been doing and how the holidays have been.

As we finshed our meals they all shifted over to the living room and when I finished cleaning up the table I moved to join them. We sat around chattering about random things, Hange occasionally getting curious and touching. It was nice to be able to sit around like this and hang out.

“I’ll be right back.” I excused myself from the room and paced over to my room. I grabbed the gifts I had prepared off my dresser and when I came back Hange was fighting Levi to try and see ‘what would happen if she stuck a hotdog in the light bulb socket.’ I giggled slightly at the sight. When Hange noticed my presence she calmed down, especially when she saw my hands filled with bags. Levi guided her back to the living room to sit down and I followed suit. I passed out the gifts I got to Hange and Erwin and I held Levi’s. They shot my a confused look but I payed no mind to it.. when Erwin opened his gift he took a moment to look at it before looking to me with caring eyes while giving me a quick ‘thank you’. Hange opened hers next and nearly passed out. I had gotten her a titan ugly sweater from the museum and a diy explosive kit. She thanked me a bunch before shoving it messily back into the bag. Erwin had gotten me a new baking set since he knew mine were old. I thanked him and Levi opened his. Erwin had gotten him a big box of tea and cleaning supplies. I giggled softly and when Levi flipped it over it had a 50 dollar visa attached. Figured Erwin wouldn’t actually get him just that. I opened mine from Hange and saw it was some sort of sciency baking kit, it looked really cool. I smiled at her and thanked her a bit as well. Levi opened his to find earl gray tea and a 20 dollar visa. Levi is hard to shop for so it was expected that he would get gift cards. I didn’t want to give Levi his actual gift until after the two left so I handed him a holiday card with money in it. He shot me a confused look but took it nonetheless. After about an hour or two Hange and Erwin bidded their goodbyes. When the got out the door I sighed finally able to relax.

“Levi I um.. I have your actual gift right here. I didn’t wanna not give you anything infront of them but I wanted to save this for just us.” And raised and amused eyebrow as I handed the box. He handed me a bag and told me to open it first. Upon opening I could see that it was a beautiful necklace. It had mine and Levi’s name engraved into it a gorgeous gold chain. I teared up a bit at how much it must’ve cost. He gestured for me to come over so he could put it on. I shivered as the cold metal hit my skin. I turned around and gave him a kiss and told him to open his. I stood there standing anxiously as he unboxed it. As soon as he could see what it was his eyes widened, swirling with so many emotions. He carefully took out the tea set and when he noticed the tea cup wasn’t broken anymore tears welled up in his eyes. He carefully set it down on the table and quickly strode over to me give me a tight hug. He pulled back a bit and smashed his lips against mine. After a few moments he pulled away and rested his forehead against mine.

“Thank you.” His tone was soft and filled with love. I squeezed him close to me and whispered back,

“Merry Christmas, Levi.”

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HAPPY HOLIDAYS YALL!!