#but i got one gift from a gift exchange we did at work and that’s it

[fakeoutbf]

.

[saintrosalyn]

JAILBIRD

Ghost becomes pen pals with an inmate before deciding that he wants to adopt his little jailbird.

Word count: 4.1k

Tw: inmate reader, reader is kept as vauge as possible but is implied to be younger than Ghost, violence, stalking, ghost is a perv, p in v, oral (f! Receiving), creampie, spanking (once), orgasm denial if you squint, unprotected sex, NOT edited we die like men.

Edited to Add: Part Two is posted :)

Notes: Baby’s first fanfic, please be gentle. Let me know if I missed any trigger warnings or if you want to see more! I have an idea for a second part but I don’t know if anyone wants it, right now it’s tucked away safely in my drafts. Enjoy! :)

P.S. I’m thinking about making an ao3 account and publishing an edited version of this on there. I’ll link it if I do! I’ve already spent too much time procrastinating finals but christmas break is around the corner so who knows.

The letter came with the top serrated, already opened, as all your letters came. You mostly ignored them. There were a couple of programs that allowed people to become pen pals with prisoners but you’d been there long enough to know what they often contained. 

Many of the women milked poor losers on the outside. Money given and sent. Promises of butterfly kisses and blowjobs whispered over the phone. Exchanges. Some were even able to sweet talk their honeys into giving bribes. Money passed into hands of guards, currency that was then exchanged for cigarettes, which were much more valuable on the inside than the bills used on the outside.

You don’t know why you read this letter. It certainly wasn’t the penmanship, a scrawled handwriting that lay between cursive and print. Maybe it was the blue pen, you’d recognize a Bic anywhere, or maybe it was the fact that it smelled a bit like top-shelf liquor. 

It was rather blunt. But not in an obscene way. Simple and straight to the point as if constrained by an unknown word count. It wasn’t memorable, but what else was there to do? Pace your cell back and forth and wait for zoochosis to settle further in your bones. Close your eyes and remember what freedom tasted like before it dissolved in your mouth.

The pen they gave you was cheap, the paper even cheaper, but you were used to making things work. Your reply was shorter than his, than Simon’s, but it got the job done. If he wanted to write back he would. If he didn’t, well, the new prison guard was starting to get rather handsy with you. The time will pass no matter what.

___

His replies came in strange patterns. Some weeks you’d get eight in a week, other times you wouldn’t hear from him for a few months. It took a year for the first phone call of which lasted less than a minute and consisted mostly of him grunting on the other end and a schlick sound you pretended not to notice. It was his fourth phone call that he finally said a few words in a voice so low it made the phone buzz against your ear, tickling like a lover's breath. Eventually, you had some semblance of conversations, even if they were interrupted by a recorded voice warning you of the time you had left. 

He told you he was a soldier and at first, you planned on cutting the whole penpal idea off. Even before you got arrested you hated bootlickers more than anything. But Simon grew on you, and your friends all suggested you get in his good graces to see if he could pull some strings. You would’ve felt guilty if he was anything other than glorified government property. Both of you were.

The first thing he gave you was a book, The Yellow Wallpaper, which was thicker than you remembered from the time you read it in school. It was only when you cracked open the spine did you find a pack of cigarettes inside, the pages carved out so your real present could be placed inside. You couldn’t help the smile that split your lips as you pressed one between your lips, not noticing the tiny S carved into it.

You thank him for the gift by whispering his name into the phone. A mantra, a prayer, it didn’t matter as long as you kept your voice breathy. He promises to get you more and you learn not to refuse him. At one point, you notice that little robotic voice doesn’t time you anymore. The guard who couldn’t keep his hands to himself was replaced with a woman, hair pulled back into a military-style bun. And you got an extra cookie with your meals.

It took a year for him to visit. You knew it was coming eventually, men are only fine with their imagination for so long before they crave something tangible. Hell, even you were curious about the man who wanted to sink his teeth into you. It almost felt like getting ready for a date. Butterflies dropped like lead in your stomach as you tried to tidy your appearance as much as you could. You smelled, but there wasn’t much you could do about that. The whole damn prison smelled like a county fair bathroom. The lack of air conditioning in the heat of summer just added a sweet BO tinge. 

The first thing you noticed about Simon was his size. You had never met a man as big as he was. The next was the thick scar tissue that marred his face. Though, even without the scars you would be hesitant to ever call him handsome.

Intimidating.

That was what came to mind staring at the thick cords of muscle that covered his arms and the broadness of his shoulders wasn’t just genetics. And he just stared at you. You glanced at the phone that connected to his on the other side of the glass and back at him but decided against it.

You offered him a small smile and an awkward wave. It unnerved you. The focus and attention pinned you in place. Normally you kinned yourself to a tiger you saw at a zoo when you were a child. One that paced back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. A habit you understood all too well. But sitting in front of your pen pal you realized you were rather off. 

Simon was the tiger and you were the bird that caught his attention.

It took far too long for the guard to come and collect you. For once you were grateful to retreat back to your cell, so much so that in your retreat you failed to notice the nod your warden gave Simon.

___

After that Simon met with you in person as often as was allowed. He never said anything and neither did you. Eventually, the novelty of him wore off. Humans were rather adaptable creatures, and you could only be scared of the man for so long before your body adjusted to him. Despite your silence, Simon didn’t appear displeased with you. In fact, it was almost the opposite of it. More gifts arrived.

A pillow, high-end shampoo, a toothbrush (that you had a strange suspicion was used before being given to you), nail polish, and more cigarettes. Some of the women were jealous of the attention given to you, others tried to get with you to share your bounty. Somehow you dodged most of the conflict. But you can only run so long while trapped with so many women.

When you showed up to your meeting sporting a bruised cheek and split lip the air quickly changed. Before you thought Simon looked like a predator. 

You were wrong.

Fear coursed through your veins and you recognized the look in his eyes. Every woman in the damn place knows what a hunger for violence looked like. Slowly he reached out an arm, the sleeve of his hoodie riding up slightly showing off tattoos, before grabbing the phone and pressing it to his ear. With a shaking hand, you did the same.

“Bird.” His voice was somehow deeper in real life than over the phone.

“You should see the other guy.”

His lips twitched.

There was something uncanny about his eyes. They weren’t brown, they were black. Obsidian. You realized that before, the first time you met him, he wasn’t trying to scare you. Though, you were pretty sure it wasn’t directed at you.

“Just a little spat is all Simon. Everything sorted itself out.”

All over a bottle of nail polish. Tempers run short in prison. You spend most of your days in a cell, and what little free time you get surrounded by the same insufferable bitches, it’s a mystery there isn’t more violence. For the most part, things were settled with words. The more physical an inmate gets the more time spent in your cell. There were some weeks where you spent twenty-three hours a day in that little room. 

Simon let out a sigh as if dealing with you was the most insufferable part of his day.

“Did ye’ get medical attention a’ least?”

You nodded your head.

He gave a grunt.

That seemed to be his preferred method of communication with you. Caveman grunts and growls, the occasional moan over the phone he couldn’t hold back. You figured it had something to do with his job. He was quite tight-lipped about it, but you gathered he has co-workers (his squad? Platoon? What was the proper lingo?). Despite this, you were under the impression he spent the majority of his time alone. He always seemed more primal after those month-long stints of silence.

You always wondered how you would feel if he never contacted you again. Went out and didn’t come back. Would you assume he was dead? That he moved on to prettier things that aren’t locked away? Would it make a difference to you? 

No. It wouldn’t.

Even now you got letters upon letters from other men. Though none were as giving as Simon was.

It was back to silence and staring contests that you were used to. The both of you slipping into a familiarity. He never put the phone back. Even when your warden came and escorted you back. You didn’t glance back at him. 

Tucked away in your cell you didn’t get to watch Simon slowly rise out of his seat, chair creaking from the shifting of his weight. You didn’t see Simon lurk in the back as the inmates met with their loved ones on the out. Didn’t see him take notice of a particular girls with nails painted the same shade as his gift to you. The same shade as the tip of his cock.

___

The girl was transferred. For a singular moment, you thought Simon had something to do with it. Then laughed at the idea. Simon may be in the military, but you highly doubted he had anything to do with the bitch who got transferred. At least you got your nail polish back. It was a strange shade, and the idea of a man as big as Simon standing in an isle trying to pick out a shade made you chuckle, it was the thought that counted.

Time marched on. Penpals came and went but Simon stayed the consistent part in your life. 

Eventually, the possibility of parole was on the horizon. 

Freedom. 

So close you could practically taste it.

Unfortunately, that meant a laundry list of to-do items. Court hearings, lawyers bankrolled by Simon, arranging for transportation and housing. Simon handled most of it. By now, the lingering guilt of using your soldier fiance had long left you. He seemed like the kind of man who needed to learn lessons the hard way, and entering a relationship with a felon was a lesson most didn’t need to learn. Still, he had been putting in quite a hard amount of work. He deserved a treat.

And after years of forced celibacy, you needed it bad.

The two of you would enjoy each other for a week or two. Simon would realize he made a mistake moving you in. He would kick you out. You’d pawn the ring he’d give you and use the money as a cushion as you landed, getting back on your feet. The two of you would go your separate ways and never see each other again.

Being in prison taught you a lot of things. Despite everything, patience wasn’t one of those lessons. The day you were gaining your freedom passed was the slowest part of your life. The checking, double checking, retrieving your stuff, checking again, until finally,

Finally,

You were outside. You were outside in something other than a uniform that stunk of sweat, there were no handcuffs. Anxiety crept everywhere. You wanted to get as far away from the prison as you could, if you breathed wrong a warden would drag you back. A pair of arms snatched you.

You looked up and couldn’t help but laugh, pressing your lips against his scarred ones.

“Fucking Christ your tall.”

He chuckled against your lips before taking them again, hands digging near painfully into your ass. The two of you somehow managed to walk back to his car peeling off one another before Simon peeled away, hand clutching the fat of your thighs as he drove.

“Never pictured you as a reckless driver.” You giggled.

The adrenaline and giddiness of being free hadn’t worn off yet. If anything it seemed to slowly be morphing into a different beast entirely. You pressed your lips against his bicep causing him to groan. You glanced up at him, watching as his jaw clenched weaving in and out of traffic in a way that was certainly not legal. You would’ve been worried about being pulled over if he wasn’t driving a military vehicle. They answered to a different police, or so he told you.

Eventually, he pulled into the yard of a house with an honest-to-God white picket fence. You smiled as you got out, curiosity creeping in about what his house was like. Simon opened the door for you, which would probably should’ve made you swoon at his gentleman-like behavior, but truthfully it was how he hauled you out of the card and dragged you inside that got your heart racing. 

Impatient.

The door barely closed before his body was pressed against yours and his lips were pressed against your jugular. One of his rough hands slipped up your shirt, grunting when he found a clear path to your tits instead of meeting the edge of a bra. The other dipped into the waistband of your pants, running over your clothed cunt, no doubt feeling the wet spot against your underwear. Your hands slid over his arms, squeezing at the muscle, before slowly sliding them up and up, going to the back of his neck, a hand threading through his short hair the other cupping his face to kiss yours. 

A large thumb found your clit, only the thin cotton stopped him from rubbing directly against it. He pressed down hard on it, causing your breath to catch in your throat, his thumb moving down your slit. The seam of your mouth parted in a moan and he used that to stick his tongue down your throat. 

The kiss was obscenely wet, beastly as his spit passed from his mouth into yours. Before prison, you would’ve pulled away with a grimace. Too much tongue, too much teeth, too much. But your whole body was on fire, years of pent-up orgasms made you desperate for it all. For someone to press against you, to be inside you.

Simon was oh-so-convenient. 

You tried to pull away, lungs burning enough to convince you that air was in fact a need, but the door stopped you. Pressed between it and Simon you had no escape. You whimpered against his mouth, again and again until he finally got the hint and pulled away, a string of spit connecting your mouths as if it too was reluctant to pull away from you.

“Bedroom?” You panted, though if he took you here against the door you would die happy.

Simon threw you over his shoulder and took his stairs two at a time before tossing you on his bed making you laugh. The caveman and his prize. Simon took the moment of being away from you to pull at the collar of his shirt. You watched in appreciation as it lifted higher and higher until it was discarded on his carpet. 

His body was marred in scar tissue, muscle, and a layer of fat that made for a solid fine specimen of the male species. His pants were discarded next, and either he pulled his underwear down with them or he just wasn’t wearing any to begin with. You didn’t have much time to ponder that thought distracted by his hard cock.

Jesus Christ.

Big was an understatement, monster was the word that popped into your mind. It crossed the territory between delicious into scary. Large and thicker than you thought possible. You swallowed and for a second hoped he would forget about the blowjob you promised him after he gave you a pillow. 

“Yer’ wearin’ too many clothes Birdie.” 

Quickly, though not as quickly as Simon was, you wiggled out of your pants, shrugged off your shirt throwing it in the same pile as his clothes. He stepped closer to you, one large hand grabbing your ankle before retching you towards him.

He leaned down, mouthing at your bare tits, slobbering over them. The soft press of his tongue flicked over your nipple before he moved to the other and grazed his teeth over it. His hands were everywhere. He was everywhere. Impossibly big and pressed against you everywhere. Until all your senses were filled with him. As if Simon was the only thing that mattered in the world.

The artificial sun in your glass cage.

His mouth moved lower, nipping at your skin before he moved between your legs. He settled his body in between them, the calloused palm of his hands pressing your legs further and further apart until the stretch burned in the muscles where your legs met your pelvis. Quickly the pain faded into the background as he pressed a kiss against your bare clit, before taking it in his mouth and sucking. You felt the rough pad of his fingertips press against your hole rubbing against it but never quite dipping inside. Again and again, he moved it against you but never in you. 

It was maddening.

You tilted your pelvis against his mouth, trying to coax his fingers into your welcoming body. He growled against your clit, removing his mouth causing you to whine. A sharp sting met your ass cheek and you yelped.

He spanked you.

“Behave.”

You never took the man to be hungry for anything other than missionary, but it seemed he had learned a few tricks over the years. He did have a few on you, you were sure of it. Your thoughts leaked out of your ears as he moved back up, slotting his hips in between your legs. Liquid lust ran through your veins at the sight of him rubbing his dick against your mound, a mess of your slick and his pre dragging along your pussy and up to your belly button. Your poor hole clenching around nothing at the image of how deep he was about to be in you.

You took a deep breath, mesmerized as he pressed the tip against your entrance, catching it before pressing himself inside. He went slowly, and you couldn’t help the moan that left you as he finally began to sink home. Throwing your head back you closed your eyes as he stretched your body out.

You weren’t a virgin before you were locked away, but years of celibacy made you feel born again. Hell, with the size Simon was even if you had fucked him before he would’ve made you feel virginal with the way he was splitting you open.

When you opened them again you caught his gaze, he stared at you watching your expression pinch as he gave small thrusts, working the last of him inside you. When his balls pressed against your ass you let out a shaky breath. You had passed your limit two inches ago but somehow Simon had managed to coax your sweet pussy to take the last of him inside. The pain of him had taken you away from the edge of an orgasm he was working you towards, but when his hand found your clit again you knew you weren’t going to last long.

If his shaky breaths were anything to go by Simon wasn’t going to last long either. 

He kissed you again, this time it was softer. Sweeter. Made your stomach turn in a moment of guilt. It was replaced when he drew out of you, slowly letting you feel inch after inch leave your body, before slamming back in.

He moved again against you. And again. Building up a punishing rhythm. You couldn’t help the small ah ah ah’s that left your lips as he rutted in you. Your hips pushed against his, working with him as you both chased your highs. 

His hand never left your clit, as if glued to it working in tight fast circles. His other hand traveled along your body as if he couldn’t get enough of you. Squeezing at your tits so hard you thought it might bruise, running up your bare skin, constantly moving and feeling. As if he couldn’t believe that you were real. That you were out of your cage and underneath him panting his name in his ear instead of against the end of a phone. 

Your own hands wandered. Moving over his arms, God’s gift to you, his chest. But mostly they moved down his back, feeling his muscles move and contract under your hands. Before you left you would convince him to put a mirror over his bed, so you could watch his shoulders shift and move as he thrust inside you.

It was too much. The feel of Simon, the stimulation on your clit, the thick cock pistoning like a machine inside you, pressure built and built inside you. Your nails dug into his back, dragging down as he pushed you off that ledge.

Simon’s thrusts stuttered as he felt your walls fluttering around him, suckling at his cock, coaxing him. He came with a groan soon after you, painting your walls with thick globs of his cum.

You panted as he rested against you, letting his cock soften inside you as you ran your nails over the nape of his neck and caressed his short hair. It was oddly soft, comforting to run your hands over.

Simon began to untangle himself from you, slowly as if reluctant to part from your embrace. He moved to what you now realize was the on-suite connected to his bedroom. You could feel his cum start to drip out of your cunt and down your asshole, shifting at the uncomfortable feeling. You couldn’t find the energy yet to move, not even sure if your legs could support you right now. Simon came back to you, wash-cloth in hand, and began wiping up the mess he made.

“We’ll have to get a Plan B tomorrow.” You murmured as he crawled back into bed next to you.

Simon didn’t say anything, but he had always been a quiet man. He maneuvered the both of you until you rested under the covers, your hand running along his bare chest. Tracing his happy trail before moving back up, not ready to go again.

The adrenaline from before had worn off, leaving you suddenly exhausted. Sated and free you dozed off against him.

When you woke up again it was darker outside. Not yet the full black of night but rather the soft blue that came after the sun had only just dipped out of sight. Simon wasn’t in bed next to you. You rolled over with a sigh, sitting up and smoothing your hair. Thirsty you threw the covers off your body and padded across out of his room entering into a small hallway. There was a door directly across his room and with a shrug, you went into it. 

It wasn’t snooping if you lived here now too. Even if you were only going to stay for a little bit.

The handle turned easily but the room was darker than you expected, no windows to let in any natural light. Your hands patted at the wall until you found the edge of a light switch, with a click the room was bathed in a soft glow.

Your breath hitched.

The room was bare except for a small desk and chair, the walls were covered in photos. Photos of you. Old photos, from before your prison stint. Mugshots. But what made your skin crawl were photos of you in your cell. You sprawled out on your uncomfortable cot. You sitting cross-legged across from your cellmate. Images of you in the cafeteria. Images of you in the yard. 

You took a step back, then another, and another.

You flicked the light back off and slowly closed the door. You took a shuddering breath and yelped when you felt a chest pressed against yours. 

Simon’s hands dug into your hips, pulling you tight against him.

“You look like you’ve seen a Ghost, Birdie.”

Poor little bird, trading one cage for another.

___

Part Two

[goldsbitch]

That one night stranded

There is good sex...and then there is good sex. And when you know and love someone, it's very easy to tell when they fall into an anxiety trap and try to fuck it out.

Lando is determined to have good sex only for the rest of his life.

Or - Lando and Y/N get stranded in between flights. accidental 7k epilogue p.2 to That one Christmas flight, but can be read as a stand-alone

warning: angst, shit family, smut, p in v, oral, minors DNI, typos, couple therapists - please leave, i'm not ready for your judgement

//

There were two very different text message chains happening in the hotel lobby, where the young couple stood, waiting for the receptionist who was coding they key card.

Lando's phone was bursting up with family photos, taken the day before. Lots of smiley faces, tables overflowing with food and pictures blurred up, because the person taking the photo was most likely laughing too hard to stay still. And even better - most of the messages were words of praise his family had for his no-so-new girlfriend. He knew well enough his family was proud of him nevertheless. Somehow, bringing home someone who fit in right easily, laughed at the same jokes and earned a sincere approval, filled up a hole he had no idea was present in his heart.

This one night they'd "earned" by the delayed flight felt like a reward. They'd done great together. Alone time was a rare luxury, especially when it was unexpected and not planned out for weeks. He glanced over to her, glued to her phone in a similar way that he was. Only difference being the furrowed brows.

The other text chain was Y/N and her mother. Right when the reality sank in - the fact that no plane would be able to fly to Japan with these weather conditions - her heart did too. She'd somehow hoped it would be different. That her mother would save the snarky comments. Yet she found a way to make this all seem like Y/N's fault.

You should have taken an earlier flight.

She knew it was irrational. But yes, if they had opted for the earlier flight, they'd be in the air by now. Funny, how only parents know the exact formula to make one’s brain switch off the rational part. It was the hidden undertone in the text messages. Her mom would usually save those for phone calls. The last thing Y/N wanted to do at the moment. You're too reckless. Not organized enough. Being late is your fault. Bad planning. Do you even care about seeing me? I took a day off from work to spend time with you. Are you sure about bringing the racer boy over here?

Guilt filled up her stomach and her eyes were glued to the phone, hoping for more letters to appear. Something along the lines like "have a safe flight". Or "I'm looking forward to finally meeting Lando". Words she knew would never appear. She felt her boyfriend's arm embrace her as he exchanged few final words with the receptionist. The specific info got lost on her, but the tone spoke on it's own. Even a stranger could pick up on his unmasked joy and comfort. He didn't mind they were stranded for few hours. She wished for that kind of peace of mind. His family had been incredibly lovely to her. Accepted her the way she was and gave her enough space to express herself. She was ready for "double checking" or some sort of acceptance tests. Expected to have to prove herself to them more. None of that came. Part of her was secretly infuriated by that. There was no way in hell Lando would get the same treatment. Y/N wished she could provide that comfort for him too. It resembled the same feeling she had when he came to her apartment for the first time and she forgot to put away all the mugs overflowing the nightstand. Like something that was her responsibility to fix, clean up before he even knew this was a thing.

"Look at me, honey," he said in the elevator, his finger pulling her chin up. His eyes scanned her with a look she grew to love. Pure, unfiltered adoration. "Feels like we got gifted a night only for ourselves. I can't think of anything better to receive." She smiled as best as she could, trying to get on his level of ease. But one thought sat in her brain, unwilling to make space for anything else. Today's bliss for tomorrow's misery.

"You're right, as always," she replied, trying to convince herself maybe more than him. The kiss she gave him afterwards was to divert his attention from looking at her, because she knew from experience, he'd soon see right through her.

"Have you texted your mom that we'll be late?" he asked, unaware of her bubbling anxiety.

"Yeah, yeah," she mumbled, trying to dismiss the situation.

//

Who cares that mom thinks he's just a reckless celebrity. Would an immature asshole who "can't possibly care about me in the longterm" be say things like that? It was pure fire running through her veins. Maybe it really was a gift, these few hours they got extra. The reality was that even if they'd arrived on time, fresh and dressed up as a cookie cutter loved up couple, her mom would still find something wrong to drill about later. Screw that. Last few moments of solitude.

She was standing in a hotel room bathroom, looking into the mirror, trying to calm herself down.

This worked perfectly into Lando's favor, him still being completely high on the good Christmas vibes. The minute she excused herself, he got on the phone with the hotel concierge and offered to throw any amount of money at them if they'd manage to follow up on his impromptu request. By some miracle, the trail with cold champagne, strawberries and few roses arrived before she returned from the bathroom. When his lovely girlfriend entered the room again, he greeted her with a dramatic spin, rose in one, a tall glass in the other hand. His interpretation of an angelic smile plastered on his face. The plan of catching her off guard worked. She stood there for a moment, taking the scenery in.

"Lando..." she said, speechless enough to muster anything more.

He winked at her and stepped closer. "It is technically our anniversary..." he said, like an open invitation.

Y/N stared at the loved up guy standing in front of her. Mother's voice still ringing in her head. All composure she managed to gain by staring at herself in the mirror gone in a second. How can anyone, ever and anywhere think that Lando, her Lando, is anything but a perfect boyfriend. How can her mother feed her with words like reckless, immature, wild and careless...without ever even meeting him in person. Her phone dinged with the sound a text message and she just knew it was her mom again. She didn't even bother looking at the notification.

"You're perfect, you know that?" she blurbed slowly. Once again, as if more to herself than to him.

His smile grew wider. "I try my best," he noted with a tone that could only be described as playful.

"Many people forget anniversaries..."

"To be fair, it is easier if it's pinned to annoyingly recognized holiday..." he joked and handed her the glass. "Do not ask me when we actually got together, because I don't think there is enough champagne around here for me to apologize for not knowing that date."

She smirked and accepted the glass.

"You did kind of just admit that yourself, you know..."

"I know, but, you didn't ask, so it doesn't count."

He knew her well enough to know that she was about to ask exactly that just to tease him, so interrupted her before she had a chance to even breathe in.

"Toast! To us! To the best outcome a desperate secret meeting at Honda could ever have!"

Giving up on teasing him, she clinked her glass with his. "To the Christmas champagne tradition."

He leaned in and kissed her before tasting the champagne. If it weren't for the symbolic gesture, he'd order anything else. Champagne had a weird undertone of podiums and that was something he hated to get reminded of during off season. But that was not something he needed to tell her.

She gulped the whole glass, happy have something to take the edge off.

"How bizarre, we managed to make it here," she remarked, courage building up.

"Wouldn't have it any other way, honey."

That's it. He was being the ultimate boyfriend, while she was there, barely participating. No more of that. She grabbed the glass from his hands and downed the liquid he barely touched anyway. Surprised Lando only raised his eyebrows and watched her put both of their glasses away.

"Bed. Now," she ordered him, changing the tone of the conversation.

Fascination overruled Lando's facial expression and he obeyed, without a single word. Usually, he was the more dominant one in their sex life. He couldn't help himself, forever horny teenager. But, sometimes, out of nowhere, she whipped up her bossy side. He often fantasized about that when he was alone, racing around the world.

She waited for him to absentmindedly kick his shoes to the corner only to sit at the edge of the bed. Shook her head and nodded toward the pillow. He obeyed and pushed himself further to the back. His eyes were literally inviting her, encouraging her to continue.

With full determination, she took her shirt off, following by swiftly removing her bra. Then she climbed over to him, never breaking eye contact.

Lando wanted to say something, anything, but he was worried that would somehow break the spell. He followed her every move, tuning in. They had spent few days in the family circus and they were about to enter another one. It's been the longest they'd gotten without sex while being in the same timezone. Even though he was not demanding or expecting anything, he was craving it like a starved man.

She wanted to feel hot. Determined to prove that she is a good girlfriend. Swung her leg over his, practically sitting on him. Their lips crashed together in a messy kiss, tongues fighting for dominance. Lando sighed when she parted them. But she was on a mission now. Knowing well enough Lando was a boobs man, she pulled his face towards her nipple and he didn't think twice about what to do next. She watched him suck and pure physical relief washed over her. All will be well soon.

She grabbed him over his jeans, pleased to find that he was already getting hard. Abandoning the kiss, she moved over to gain access to his crotch. Locked eyes with him while opening his zipper, almost violently.

"Take this off," she ordered and boy, did he do as he was told.

The air was heavy with anticipation on both parties.

With thick determination, she knelt over and took him into her mouth. He grew in her instantly, reaching full erection almost immediately.

Wasting no time, she started to move, up and down and suck him off. One hand called over to help at the bottom of his shaft, the other used as a support for her to lean on. She quickly got lost in the rhythm and continued, almost like someone dead set on completing a task. She had to prove herself. He was a great boyfriend and she needed to be the best girl he had. Because tomorrow, only ugly judgemental looks from her mother would await. No warm family welcome, this bliss they lived in for the past few days would be long gone. She could almost see it already happening, Lando desperately trying to impress her mother and her just dismissing him, because she had already made up her mind about him.

But he was perfect and Y/N was head-over-heels in love. With her eyes closed, she kept on moving, barely reaching for breath, ignoring the growing pain in her back, because the pit of despair growing in her stomach was louder anyway. It was all worth it for making her lover happy. Because who knows how it will all look tomorrow. If she could back down from the trip, she would. Her mom does not deserve to criticize someone so perfect like Lando.

Out of nowhere, felt his hand reaching over to her shoulder, somewhat bringing her back to Earth.

"Y/N," he moaned, with an unusual undertone. She took it as a sign to speed up her movements.

"Stop," he continued instantly. She froze, not quite sure what had happened.

"Ok, ugh," he pulled away unwillingly. "I can't believe I'm about to interrupt...Whatever amazing thing is happening right now."

She swallowed her own saliva. Got up a bit, slightly mortified. Why did he stop her. What has she done wrong? He never complained before? That's it - this connected with the treatment her mother had prepared instead of Christmas dinner would be the final straw ending their lovey-dovey period. Her thoughts were tripping one over another, making up an incoherent mess.

Once again, he pulled up his finger and arched her chin up.

"Is everything alright?"

Silence followed. He gave her a questioning, puzzled look.

"I thought you liked my blow jobs," she said with a stern look stripped of any emotion.

"Believe me, I do," he said with a heavy sigh. He couldn't believe himself, never expected himself to pause a perfect blow. "But something feels off about you."

She failed. She failed at going with Lando's flow and ruined what was suppose to be a nice romantic holiday evening. Giving up, she threw herself on her back, lying 90 degrees next to him, eyes glued to the ceiling. If they hadn't been so comfortable with each other, she'd feel very small, lying there like that, him with his dick out and her topless.

Lando had hoped his intuition was wrong. But sadly, he recognized the signs correctly. Without knowing this emotion had pained her ever since the plane got delayed, he felt his own anxiety pile up. Only years of mental preparation for his overly demanding job had helped him to avoid jumping into conclusions too quickly. Even though, deep down, he was terrified that her sudden mood change was due to the fact she didn't love him anymore. It was always the first thing he thought about, no matter how much he tried to work on it. But - years of mental training - he was going to cash that in.

He watched her, hoping she'd look back at him. When she didn't, he reached his fingertips towards hers. Her own hand responded instantly and their fingers tangled together.

"What happened...Did I do something wrong?" he opened with, reaching for any clues.

She kept her stare up the ceiling and chuckled. How cute it was, finding him so unaware.

"No. Lando, you're amazing. Annoyingly so, lately."

He took that as an invitation and shifted his body over so that they shared the same angle and joined her at the "staring at the ceiling" activity.

"I hope that is not the problem - I have hard time not being like that," he joked, hoping it would diffuse the tension a bit. The Lando she met a year ago would probably run away in a situation like this. Or maybe even ignored the obvious distress of his sex partner and let he blow him to his release. But not the Lando of today.

Her lips curled into a small smile.

"Oh, if only all of us were like you," she couldn't help but comment sarcastically.

"You know that you're more than perfect to me, right?" There was no lightness to be detected in his tone. She shifted, a wave of uncomfortableness washing her over.

I may be, but not my family.

"Yes, but I need you to know...I need you to understand, that I truly love you and I am totally mesmerized by you. To me, you are perfect. Even when you irritate me to heavens," she admited, making sure to highlight the words of praise. Scared that if she didn't build enough foundation today, there will be nothing to stand on once the challenge comes tomorrow. She'd tried to warm him about the meeting, but it always seemed to go through his ears.

It was like she was speaking in riddles. "Why do you need me to understand that now?" he asked, eyes now fully glued at his girlfriend, searching for some clues.

She felt his eyes on her and out of nowhere felt very naked. "Because...." ...Words were hard.

"Go on, I'm not backing away from this," Lando insisted, trying to get them both on the same page.

A loud sigh. "We had such a great time with your family..."

It was like she was speaking in a language he was not yet fluent in. "Don't divert the conversation," he hissed, eyes on her like she was some sort of target.

"I'm not!" she gasped, almost offended.

Lando was still not following. "My family is basically in love with you, I have messages if you need proof."

"Yeah. And that's the problem," Y/N smirked bitterly.

He leaned closer to her. "I think we should look up a definition of the word problem..." he joked.

She was still burning holes in the ceiling with her look. "We missed the flight. It's another bullet to my mother’s gun." Stupid, stupid mistake.

"Who is she planning on shooting?" Lando asked softly.

"Us, I'm afraid." She finally met his look and the only emotion he was able to read in her eyes was concern.

If this relationship had taught Lando anything, it was that the hard way is sometimes the only way. So, he finally allowed himself to ask the one thing that had been on his mind for a while now. "Does she not like me?"

Deep down he was suspecting this might be one of the reasons why his girlfriend is acting sketchy. He just hoped it was something more trivial. "She's never met you," she whispered, as if she was defending him for something he hadn't yet committed. So far, there had been only one moment when her mom Facetimed her when he was right next to her. One greeting, awkward wave and a smile that was not reciprocated. He made up some excuse to leave them alone promptly after that, feeling like he was intruding on a private conversation.

"I wondered when you were going to tell me that," he remarked, ready to go full on. He was just now allowing the thought that his lover's parent might have been feeding her bitter doubts for some time now enter his brain.

The obvious change of Lando's expression made her stomach turn, kind of like drinking milk that's gone off does. But, they'd vowed to be fully honest with each other after their first big fight. Deep breath. "She um...It's not like you can say she is exactly on board with all of this,“ she gestured between them. 

And there it was. The confirmation he feared. He did his best to remain as calm as possible. "Don't worry, I figured, you sort of hinted at that few times before. And I'm planning on charming the hell out of her. After all, you do share genes. Some of my tricks gotta work on her." It was more of a plea, lacking his general playful confidence. When she studied his look, it reminded her of the times when he was hiding his real emotions in front of hungry reporters.

He told her once he wanted her to be blunt, rather than deceptive in difficult times. The words started to leave her mouth without much of a filter. "But, what if it does not work. She has this habit of making her mind up before I have any chance to affect it."

Somehow, the fact she voiced it, made it easier for him to react. "Honey, don't take this the wrong way. But, I only care about your opinion. It would be great to have your mom on our side...However, I'd like to believe it's not the base of our relationship."

"No, it's not," she said quickly, silently hoping it was going to be enough for them to survive this challenge.

"So, tell me. What does she think about me?" he asked, suddenly craving to know it all.

She bit her lip. "Lando, don't make me say things like that."

Wow. That bad. "I'm used to getting hate from thousands of people who don't know me. I can cope. The more specifics I know, the better I can prepare...Come on, spill it," he countered, trying to convince her that he can handle it. However, it wasn't like he himself was completely sure of that. Her face was expressionless and he nodded to confirm it nonverbally.

"She thinks you're reckless," she spoke slowly, skipping few heartbeats. She was used to being on the other side, praising Lando when he doubted himself. This place, where she found herself at, was not one she liked.

He analysed it for a moment. "Well, I do get into a car every week to purposefully drive it as fast as possible, so I can she from which angle she might be coming from. Nothing new."

"You're a party boy," she shot back faster than she could think.

And he shot right back at her. "You're a party girl, but I assume your mom has no idea, huh."

"No...," she admitted. For some reason, this calmed her down a bit. She finally took another breath.

"What else," Lando's stared at her, following his internal feeling they hadn't arrived to the end yet.

No point in holding back now, she figured. There was a weird ball of tension in her chest, almost asking daring her to push him to the limit. "She googled you. A lot. And she made sure to tell me names of all your model exes. Then proceeded to tell me I look nothing like that," Y/N deadpanned.

Lando knew this was probably the one thing that stung her the most. But, the thought of someone she held so dearly voicing it her was making him extremely angry. "That's just fucked up-"

She continued, before he had any chance to react more.

"And, she thinks you'll affect my school. That the lifestyle around you is shallow and only attracts bonehead people."

Now, this was finally getting to Lando. Of course, he could not let Y/N know that, not in this moment.

"Do you think that too?" he asked, because he craved to know the truth. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, when the world around felt silent and his mind had time to roam freely, he found himself thinking about this. He never really studied and was never going to. His life was based on different approach. He loved it. But that didn't stop him from feeling a bit inferior from time to time.

He expected anything, but a laugh. For a moment he figured she was mocking him. Only once she reached to touch his face he realized just how still and stiff he became throuout out their conversation.

"I think it's shallow and bonehead to assume that. I've met some amazing people in your team, smart people who have dedicated their lives into the sport I'd grown to love while watching get so passionate about it."

There was an unspoken question hanging in the air. Lando dared not to say it outloud.

"And, no. I don't think you deserve to be called any of those words. Only when you're looking in the mirror, because that smug face deserves to be punched one day."

He chuckled. It would take him few moment to truly let her words sink in. "You didn't seem to think that one time in Abu Dhabi." That time when he fucked over a bathroom sink and made sure that she watched them the whole time. Lando watched with joy as her face started getting some color again. He couldn't fight his urge to get closer to his partner, break the tension even further. So, he rolled over to bury his nose in her neck. It was almost automatic at this point. None of his previous girlfriends were this understanding of his overly touchy needs. Words were important, but they grew more on meaning when he could feel her skin, explore her light shiver, watch how her body reacted. When he felt her pushing towards his touch, he swung his arm over her, with the notion of providing some heat to her naked chest.

A more comfortable silence fell upon the hotel room. Both of them lost in their own thoughts. Lando was taking in all of the newly found information. It was a heavy burden, not because of the substance, but because it was coming from someone Y/N held dearly. It was hard not to feel a little injustice of it all. But more than that, he was grateful that she was able to avoid internalizing all of that what was fed to her from her mom. He approached all of this as he would any strategy meeting before a difficult race. Find the strengths, capitalize on them and try to minimize the advantage "the opponent" might have. But truth be told, he'd rather not have to have this sort of competition.

"Thank you," he whispered into the crease of her neck. "Thank you for not giving into it all." He hoped, prayed, that was he as saying was true. It was not just about her mom. It was the press, some of the overbearing fans and anyone who dared to challenge them without having any real insight in their relationship. "I know it must be really hard and not exactly what you might have signed up for."

What did I sign up for? 

She reached over to embrace him, mindlessly drawing circles on his back. The pit inside her stomach was growing smaller. Without really intending to, signed up for a partnership, exciting love affair that got out of hand. Anyone who came before him was redundant. He outshined everyone. 

"I’m pretty sure I must have bribed faith in my past life to have you thrown in my life." 

"Aren’t you my little smart poetic girl," he murmured approvingly and started to cover her skin with kisses. Few moments flew by. "We could order some food, put on the show you like and drift away. How does that sound?" 

She understood his intention. It had been a long day and another one was coming. Her emotions were clashing from one end to another and as much as she tried to hide it all, Lando was proving to be hard to fool. And no - she did not want to chill in. Burning all of it out sounded more fun. To be held for a moment, stuck in the timelessness only lightheaded orgasm created. 

He was still trailing her neck with small pecks, arm locking her in. The untamed curls almost tickling like small feathers. Everything was heightened, as if his skin was loudly calling her in. His words of initiating a calm wind down not matching his action. 

"Please, no more of this PG fun. It’s been days."

He stopped all of his movements. "Well then, pray tell, what do you have on mind?"

The next words flew out of her mouth before she could filter them. "Are you in the mood to fuck me?"

"Am I in the mood to fuck you," he repeated, in his signature sarcasm dripping style. He was having trouble processing how his sexual partner could ever arrive to this question. Unsure whether to address her clumsy dirty talk first instead of the absurdity of the question, he arrived at a simple "Charming…".  Of course he was in the mood. Always, anytime and quite literally anywhere.

"Well it's just, it's been quite a tense talk..." she hinted back carefully. To her surprise, his face went into smirk mode. 

"I will ask you the same thing next time you're hyperventilating about school and you come in begging for stress release," he jested, once again making her eyebrows shooting up. 

"I am never begging," she defended, unwilling to give into his narrative. 

And then he shot back, with his signature you-don’t-have-any-chance-to-resist look. "I said what I said."

Blood ran boiling in her veins. If oil had been in such abundance as his audacity, the world would be able to run cars freely for centuries. "Tell me one example of me begging for sex with you."

Lando turned his head slowly. Oh. Oh, it was on.

Very quickly she realized her own mistake. She ran into that one like a fool. "No, Lando, don't-"

"You know, it has been indeed quite a long day, I think I'm gonna hop in the shower and get a healthy dose of beauty sleep," he declared dramatically, sat up and removed his t-shirt. She rolled her eyes as high as humanly possible. No way would follow through with this premise. "Fine, Lando. I’ll be here, munching on strawberries, naked and horny, all by myself," she tried to tease and leaned over to grab one of the bright red fruits from the trail. Eyes locked in with him as she shamelessly sucked on it. There was a glitch and a twinkle in his look. Almost got her thinking she had this one in the bag. He stepped closer, noses almost touching as he whispered: "Have fun, honey," gave her a little peck on the cheeks while having the nerve to grab her exposed breast. His tone was teasing, daring her to dare a little more. It was annoying in a typical Lando fashion.

"Lando, you gotta be kidding me right now," she sighed, impatience getting the better of her. 

"Few magic words and you get exactly what you want from your reckless racer fuck boy,“ he mocked everyone who ever doubted them. "Oh, sorry, forgot to add, very good at taking your edge off. Am I right?"

His presence was more intoxicating than usual. As if he radiated some hormones making her feral. All the complicated emotions leaving the conversation one by one. Nothing but the two of them left in the room. His hot breath on her cheek, fingers circling over her nipple and his body heat reminding her of each time she wrapped her arms around him as he pushed into her. 

"Yes, that you are," she responded mindlessly and searched for his lips with her own. He allowed her a small peck, like a chef would at a tasting menu. Enough to hook, but not enough to fill up. And with that thought in mind he broke their kiss. "Come on, say it. I want to hear it."

Few moments of silence, her breathing heavy and his almost undetectable. Two ego’s fighting a battle so pointless it was almost amusing. She couldn’t just give in like that, no matter how dizzy her head was getting. 

"Fine by me, honey. Your choice," he danced away, letting her hanging. There was something infuriating about how nonchalantly and elegantly he smiled, knowing well enough her was winning this battle. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes as to prevent herself from watching his tone back. 

This. This was her Lando. Always pushing her into a direction she had no idea she wanted or needed to go. Never the same thing twice, somehow, he always dug up something new. 

She sat on the bed, dumbfounded, playful anger replacing all the anxiety she had felt just moments ago. Was this his plan all along, or did he just have a natural talent at steering her mood into a place where she’d happily go and give into anything he’d suggest her to do?

He was grinning all the way coming to the shower. It was a statement, a game and something to ease the tension. Once the water started, he’d allowed himself do a light check-in with his own feelings. It wasn’t easy to hear all those things. In fact, some of them hit a little close to home. Lando made sure to separate what he had heard from Y/N as a person. She wasn’t the author of these thoughts. Someone else was. A person who he had not yet even met. There wasn’t a single cell in him that would doubt that everything she stared had been said by her mother at some point. 

He closed his eyes and aimed his face directly under the shower head. Images of him and Y/N all coupled up at his family house started to come in, like a set of developed photos. So natural, calming and most of all - honest. Comfort memories he knew he’d be reaching for once the new season and it’s challenges catch up, when the distance and loneliness hit. But at that moment, there she was, right next door and probably still a bit fired up by his uncharacteristic postponing of sex. His hand slid over to his crotch, squeezing himself casually and switching up the mental images to less family-friendly moments. He was sort of expecting her to come and join him in the shower. But no, of course not. Not when he set her up like that. They were all too similar for their own good.

When he stepped out of the bathroom, towel purposefully hanging dangerously low, he couldn’t stop himself from simpering. Once he got a look at her, sitting under the covers, phone in her hand and too stingy to pass him more than two looks. But, she did come for the second one and that betrayed her, aiming directly to where his tower barely covered his waist. 

To prove his point, he shuffled his wet hair, sudden movement making her glance once again. It felt really addictive to know he was the centre of her attention, despite how much she tried to hide it. 

Smugness and water dripping from him, he landed shamelessly on the bed, towel giving up on trying to participate. Her reaction was to frown, making her pet peeve of people getting into the bed wet known, once again. Something Lando became aware very early on. He used this information only when the situation required it. No words were said, as he leaned over her, making sure to leave some remaining water drops on her, and grabbed a moisturizer. 

Then he proceeded to slowly plump it and rub it on his body. The unreasonably loud sounds of him doing that were cutting the silence of the room like a knife. 

His partner sitting next to him hummed quietly. "Whatever this is, it’s not working."

He replied, elegant as ever. "I don’t know what you’re insinuating." He pretended to be as focused on his activity, the same way as he did when doing PR bullshit. "Ah, honey. Would you be so kind and help me reach to my back?" Lando asked overly nicely. Y/N watched him, almost admiring just how bad his acting skills were and how he proceeded with his act without any remorse. He was reaching over to his back, unable to do so, and making it look like the biggest tragedy human kind has ever experienced. And with puppy eyes, he decided to go for a low blow. 

"Please, baby," he said in a tone so insincere it wouldn’t fool a child. This was yet another provocation. 

"You know it irks me when you’re wet in the bed."

He let out a chuckle. She was so bad at keeping herself in check. It was adorable. She just sat there, pretending to be scrolling Instagram, little lines around her eyes forming from how tense her eyebrows frowned. "I do. And we seriously have to get your accidental innuendos under control. Can’t have you walking in public saying these things." He wiggled the moisturizer in front of her face. 

Finally, she snapped. "You are the most annoying and immature guy I’ve ever met. You’re impossible." Lando looked at her, like one would at an angry puppy that’s trying to jump a little too high. 

"One would almost say a miracle, huh."

Once again, he shook his bottle of moisturizer. Having had enough, she snatched it from his hands and put it back on the nightstand.  "It’s a miracle I haven’t killed you yet."

Without missing a beat, he shot back. "And how will we celebrate?"

She let out a sigh so loud the people in the next room must have heard it. Sitting there, not knowing what do with her hands anymore. He wished they were pulling his hair. 

"Are you seriously gonna make me say it."

He simply nodded, arching himself up. If her mind had been clouded before, it was now full on can't-see-further-than-my-nose type of situation.

He leaned over even closer, getting up all over in her personal space. As if that was even a thing anymore. 

Somehow, for some reason he would have yet unpack, his heart was beating like crazy. Say it. 

Accepting that he won what ever this was, she gulped and finally whispered. "Please."

He gave her a questioning look, as if he didn’t hear her. "Hm? Sorry?"

Still debating whether she should smack him or not, she repeated herself. "Please."

"What, do you want me to put the cream on you too? Hydration is important for the skin,“ he teased, enjoying himself immensely. 

"Lando."

"Y/N."

If he were to be completely honest, he was extremely proud of himself to withholding this long. Also, not sure how longer he could go on, given the fact his erection has entered the chat. 

To make it more complicated, she sat up and put her mouth almost onto his. He could smell her aroused energy. Almost taste her on his mouth. And that as even before she licked his lips lightly with her tongue.

"Say it," he mumbled, unable to make it not sound like a plea. 

It was different than what they’d usually do. Many couples dabbled in talking during sex, they never really did. Then something hit her. Like a secret wavelength he was sending her way. Maybe he needed her to talk today. So, finally, she broke in. 

"Lando, please, fuck me.“ 

All those times, he waited for the five red lights to go out only for him to smash the pedal, paid off. Like opening windows in a stale room, he let the fresh air in. Ripped the duvet covering her off, he grabbed her legs to pull her into a laying down position, not even giving her time to gasp. His moves were quick and oh-so-sure of himself. 

"Tell me what you need, love,“ he ordered, while he traced the line of her neck with his tongue. 

He wasn’t certain if she was finding the idea of talking as hot as he did. But he sure as hell hoped. It wasn’t like he needed any guidance at that point. Had every inch of her body mapped out already. But he longed to hear it from her mouth. Towering over her, he nibbled on her neck, one hand running through her hair and the other squeezing her hips, keeping her exactly where he wanted her. 

He noticed she stopped her breathing and locked him with her arms, holding on for dear life. 

"You, I need you, Lando,“ she let out, suddenly all uncertain and shy. It was the vulnerability in her tone that got him. He moved his lips a little lower, so that he could leave a mark on her collarbone, without fearing she’d regret it tomorrow. 

His body was moving on its own. Brushing on her upper thigh, opening her legs up and positioning himself between her. All the blood left his brain. 

"I want you to touch me. I want to walk with marks made from you in public, a secret only you will know.“ 

He was only now realizing how good of a fuel this was for him. Lightheaded, he folded her legs and pushed them to her stomach, making as small as possible. So that she would be completely in his control. 

To grand her wished, he left one mark just below he collarbone and moved to leave a second one on her breast. She let out a heavy breath. 

"Lando, please. I need you inside.“ 

He was almost getting too dizzy not to comply immediately. His erection throbbing into her leg. 

Then, out of nowhere, he flipped them both. 

"Get over me, baby,“ he hummed and positioned himself on his back. She gave him a questioning look and knelt above his dick. 

But he shook his head and grabbed her hips once again. "Up here.“ 

His hungry look must have encouraged her, so she moved until he stopped her, ending up directly above his mouth. "Sit down.“ 

His statement was followed by his strong hands literally pushing her down on his mouth. 

Eyes finally locked again, he smirked for the last time, before he buried his mouth in her. 

Lando wished he knew what he looked like from her perspective. Squished between her, licking and sucking, letting her move in the exact way how she wished. He felt her legs tense up with each move his tongue made. This all got even more intense when he squeezed her nipple between his fingers. 

He twirled his tongue through her folds, circled around the clit, which had her melt. 

"More,“ she demanded and positioned herself so that he could only access. 

Saliva and her juices were mixing in his mouth, the smell of her arousal hitting his nose and making him high. 

He upped his pace and went for the moves he already knew from the past would work. Watching her crumble, barely being able to keep herself up, to the point where she had to balance herself against the wall, was probably becoming his definition of heaven. His tongue moved in a fixed rhythm, exploring every possible place she had to offer. 

"Lando..." she moaned, completely lost due to the moves his tongue was making. 

He felt the urge to stop and take a breath, because judging by the slight movements of her thighs, she was getting close. 

And only moments later, her first release came. Wetter than ever, she held on dearly and with one high pitched sigh, she collapsed almost completely. He had to stop her from crushing his face. 

"Sorry," she let out mindlessly, unable to give him more reaction. 

Amused, he helped her back down and rolled her over on her back. 

Wasting no time, Lando pushed two fingers in her immediately, not giving her any time to calm down or rest. 

Wondering in which dimension he managed to send her off to, he watched, as she squeezed her eyes shut with every little twist her made. As her moans target to get intense again, he shut her off with a kiss. His tongue matching the movements of his fingers. He waited patiently, before he felt like she was getting lost in the same haze as bare minutes ago, only to remove his fingers and stop kissing her out of a sudden. 

Confusion and mild anger washed over her. 

"What-"

"I can’t hear you, baby," he teased and hovered his wet fingers above her mouth. "What was it that you wanted from me? Must have slipped my mind."

The look of pure desperation she gave him was the hottest shit he’d ever seen. 

"Lando…"

"Let’s made a deal, sunshine," he proclaimed and slowly shoved his wet fingers into her mouth. Like the good girl she was, she sucked on them without hesitation. „I’ll stop anything we’re doing, the moment you shut up. Ok?“

They were so close to each other with every possible body part. But it was not enough. It would never be enough. She nodded and he pulled his fingers out, slowly. 

"Deal, Norris."

A lightning shot through his body and nearly split him in half. She never used his last name before, ever. Why was that, out of all the things, doing it for him. She must have picked up on his momentary relapse and gained more confidence with that. "Stop fucking around, I want you inside. Now.“ 

He was already almost touching her entrance with his dick. Eye locked, he reached for her hand and intertwined their fingers. 

"Please,“ she said, loud and proud, making it sound like a demand.

When he finally pushed into her, it was like anything else stopped existing. He belonged there and nothing else mattered. 

"Oh my God, yes,“ she whined, keeping up at her promise. "This is the best shit ever.“ 

Lando’s autopilot kicked in as the last braincell was truly gone. He started to move in a steady beat, finding it incredibly hard to keep himself from literally pounding into her immediately. 

„Faster,“ she encouraged as she held his shoulder with her other hand, to help her find balance. 

Lando was lost, in the best way possible. In her body, in his mind, in the fact that having sex was something completely different when you absolutely adored the person you’d be lying on top of. The built up energy finally finding its release, after days of dancing around. With each thrust, he lost touch with reality more. Only pure pleasure and reminiscence of her voice finding their way in. 

"Oh, God, baby." "Yes." "I need you." "It’s only you." "Shit, you’re so good."

Lando figured a long time ago that, for the lack of better comparison, their bodies must have been made for each other. Different shapes fitting perfectly into each other. They shared their sense of rhythm. It was never too short or too long. She scratched the itch before he got the chance to mention he had one. Lando felt almost sad for anyone who did not get to experience that. 

Somehow, their sex got better every time. 

He missed when she came for the second time, as he was too lost in his own release. His thrusts got more uneven, his body completely arched and then finally - like the slap in the face, pure bliss washed over him. He felt it in what seemed like every muscle, every strain of hair and in every inch of his lower stomach, spreading like nice hot drink in the middle of winter. All was good. There were no problems, only good things. She was perfect. 

He had a hard time recalling what were the exact words they’d share right after he came. The haze started to clear few moments after, when he found himself next to her, puddle of his cum in the middle of her stomach, noses touching each other and light kisses being left like little presents. 

As the heavy breaths grew lighter, he returned back to Earth.

"All good, baby?“ he asked, the sweetness in his tone coming naturally. Searched for any sign of discomfort in her face. He had hoped that she got exactly the kind of release she deserved. 

And many signs pointed towards that. The smile of her disbelief, red flushed face, sensitive skin that reacted to each light touch as if it was a strong grip. 

"I, um. Yes. More than good. Thank you.“ Most people would barely understand with they way she mumbled.

He chuckled. "You don’t have to thank me, ever.“ 

"I was taught that after every please comes a thank you, so pick you battle. All or nothing," she shot back, teasing as ever.

He didn't have to think much before replying. "Well, all of that then.“ 

She nudged him with her nose. "You seemed to enjoy me begging. Though begging might be a strong word. I would never do that." 

Even though she said it in a light tone, he knew it was intended seriously. "Maybe I just really needed to hear it today. That you want me. Need me.“ 

"What I love about this all is that we need each other. Both for different reasons, but that just makes it work even more.“ 

There was comfort in her answer. A realization, an answer to a question they never asked before. 

"I’ll be there for you tomorrow. We’ll crush it, as a team.“

[holylulusworld]

How to cure a grump (2)

Summary: You’re losing your job on Christmas.

Pairing: CEO/Boss!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, grumpy Bucky, awful boss, mistaken identity, kinda fake dating trope, snowed-in trope

How to cure a grump (1)

How to cure a grump masterlist

James Buchanan Barnes, or Bucky to his friends, prides himself on not being a petty man. He believes in second chances. So, when storms toward his private jet, he tries not to be too angry.

One day before Christmas he must fly across the country to find a missing employee. Or rather, ex-employee.

Bucky grits his teeth, barely acknowledging the petite blonde welcoming him with a French accent. He always had a thing for French women or women in general.

Today, he doesn’t care, too angry at you for spending Christmas with your parents and not waiting for his call.

“That woman! The audacity! How dare she block my number!” He’s fuming. If this was a cartoon, steam would come out of his ears.

Bucky barks orders at the pilot and the stewardess before sitting down. He hates Christmas and everything that comes with it. From the cheery attitude to exchanging gifts. James Buchanan Barnes is the Grinch in flesh and blood.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” Bucky loses his temper for a second, or like, ever. He glares at the poor girl telling him there’s only one left at the car rental. “I wanted an SUV, not a fucking truck.”

“Sir,” the girl sniffles, “I reserved the best car for you. It’s the Christmas season, and it's difficult to even rent out a car. We are booked out for months.”

“I don’t care! Is that how you do business?”

“Sir, I must ask you to lower your voice,” the owner of the car rental steps in. “We did our utmost to find another car for you. It’s the only one left. Take it or leave it. If you want to walk, it’s fine by me.”

Bucky grits his teeth. He’d love to go at the man like a missile but doesn’t have the time. If he wants to find your house, get the password, and leave within two hours to fly back to New York, he must swallow his pride and accept one defeat for today.

“Fine,” he growls at the man. “I’ll take that one.”

Bucky is beyond pissed. No one in your sleepy little hometown wants to tell him where you are living, or rather your parents. On top of all, his feet are hurting from running around town for hours.

He cracks his neck before entering the bakery, his last hope.

Bucky opens the door, forcing it to swing open. The little bell above the door rings, catching the other customers' attention. Your former boss, in his expensive slacks, coat, and slippers, sticks out like a sore thumb.

“Good day, Sir,” the owner chirps. She’s a short woman in her early fifties, wearing a brown mini dress shaped like a gingerbread man cookie, with icing details and colorful candy accents. It has a slightly flared skirt and appears to have a tulle underskirt. “What can I do for you?” We have a special offer for Christmas-themed cupcakes and muffins. Or do you prefer classic gingerbread cookies?”

“I’m looking for someone,” Bucky cuts her off. “Y/N Y/L/N. I think she’s at her parents’ house.”

“OH! OH! You must be the handsome fiancé she was hiding for so long!” The owner rounds the corner to wrap Bucky in a hug. He stiffens, not used to unwanted affection from strangers. “But… didn’t you come with her?”

“I—I,” Bucky stammers. If he tells the owner the truth, she’ll not tell him where your parents are living. “Work kept me busy last minute.”

“���and now you came here to surprise her,” she concludes, and Bucky doesn’t correct her. What else can he do? “Wait, I’ll write her address down. And, oh, you must take some of the cupcakes and cookies with you. They are on the house.”

All the women in the bakery sigh. They believe the handsome man in his expensive clothes came to surprise you on Christmas.

Well, in a way, he will surprise you.

“Mom, I’ll go and pick up the things you ordered. Do you need anything else?” You call for your mother, already halfway out of the house. “Mom?”

“Can you bring some cupcakes and cookies from Aunt Y/A/N’s bakery? Bread too. We don’t need to bake it this year. She offered to bake mine at the bakery!”

“Sure thing, Mom. Anything else? We don’t want to forget something, especially with the approaching snowstorm.”

“No, I got everything else, Munchkin. We will survive for at least three weeks or more with all the things in the pantry. You can stay for months if you want to.”

“Mom,” you sigh. Since you told her about your boss and that you lost your job, she offered you half of the house. She already talked to people in town. Within not three hours, you got four job offers. “We can talk about it after the holidays.”

“That’s not a no,” she coos. “You know, I’d love to have my Munchkin back at home.”

You smile because your mom means well and loves you unconditionally, but you know moving back home is not an option. After the holidays, you will attend a few job interviews. You already had a look at a few free positions and applied to them.

“I’ll be back soon, Mom. Call me if you need something else.”

“Coming,” your mom coos as someone impatiently rings the doorbell. She carries a plate with cookies toward the door, assuming it’s one of the neighbor’s kids. “What can I do for you?”

She opens the door, meeting stormy blue eyes. Bucky looks her up and down, humming as she’s the spitting image of you. “Mrs. Y/L/N,” he clears his throat, “I’m looking for your daughter, Y/N. I know it’s a busy time, but I need to talk to her.”

“Wait—” Your mother sizes Bucky up while trying to remember the picture you sent her some months back. The one of you and the guy you dated for a few months before he broke things up with you. “You must be…” She struggles to remember the name you gave her too.

“James,” Bucky offers, and holds out his hand. He chuckles as your mother is still holding a plate with cookies in her hands. “Sorry, can I help you with that?”

“Where are my manners!” She gasps. “It’s freezing, and you are standing on my front porch. Come in and get warm. Y/N is picking up some groceries for me. She’ll be back soon. Do you want coffee, tea, or hot chocolate?”

Bucky reluctantly enters your mother’s house. He looks around before taking off his coat. His hands are ice cold thanks to the lack of hand gloves, and he cannot deny that he doesn’t feel his feet any longer.

“Yeah, the weather caught me cold,” Bucky and your mother chuckle at his bad wordplay. He takes off his shoes to wiggle his toes. “I didn’t expect the snow to be so…persistent.”

“We get lots of snow at this time of the year,” your mother says while preparing a hot beverage for Bucky. “Do you want some cookies too, or a sandwich maybe?”

“That’s too kind,” Bucky says. He doesn’t want to risk getting kicked out of your mother’s house. He’ll be waiting patiently for you to return, get the password, and be on his way.

You hurriedly get inside the house. The snowstorm already arrived, and you barely made it back to the house. “Mom, I’m back,” you call for your mother. “I guess we won’t be able to get in town anytime soon.”

“Munchkin,” your mother calls from the living room. “We have company. Can you come here?”

You frown. The last thing you need after fighting your way through snow masses is neighbors wanting to catch up with you. You love them, but explaining that you lost your job is something you don’t want to do again and again.

“Coming,” you take off your boots, coat, scarf, and hand gloves before walking into the living room. You suck in a breath watching your former boss get comfortable on your mother’s couch, a cup of hot chocolate in his hands.

“Look! He came to see you for Christmas.” Your mother gets up to give you and your “boyfriend” time. She still doesn’t know he’s your boss, or now ex-boss, not the guy breaking up with you weeks ago. “You can catch up while I take care of the groceries you got.”

Speechless, you watch your mother leave the room. “What are you doing here?” You spat at your former boss the moment your mother was out of sight. “How dare you come here to bug my mother!”

“She invited me in,” he dares to say. Bucky shrugs as you look at him, murder in your eyes. “I think she confused me with some other guy. She mentioned a boyfriend or fiancé.”

Huffing, you cross your arms over your chest. “Not even close,” you snap at him. “I was seeing someone, but my mom knows that it didn’t work out. What did you tell her? Did you lie to her?”

“Whoa, calm down,” he slowly gets up. “I’m here because you forgot to reset the password. I cannot access the files.”

“What?” You cock a brow. “I left my current password and the PIN to reset the password along with my keys. I gave them to the security, as suggested by Mr. Rogers the day I left.”

“Mr. Rogers—” Bucky huffs. “That punk! That goddamn motherfucker let me fly down here to get the password and knew you left it?”

“Problem solved,” you grunt and point toward the door. “If you’d leave me the fuck alone now. It’s almost Christmas, and the last thing I need is for my mom to believe you are the guy I dated!”

“Munchkin, will your boyfriend stay for Christmas? Do you want the guestroom to have more privacy?” You love your mother dearly, but right now, you’d love to tell her to shut up. “Y/N?”

“No!” You say. “He will fly back and spend Christmas in New York.”

“Oh, Munchkin, I don’t think he can,” your mother says while walking back inside the living room. She shows you her phone. “See, all airports are closed, and the streets are, well, you know the streets in winter. “I think James is stuck here.” She smiles softly while you start to sweat.

“I think he’d prefer a hotel!” You are quick to reply. “Right, James.” You clear your throat and furrow your brows. “You want to sleep at a hotel.”

“Nonsense,” your mother insists. “We have more than enough space. Let’s get his luggage inside before it gets even colder. I’m sure he’s tired and needs a rest.”

“Mrs. Y/L/N, I appreciate the offer, but I’ll go to a hotel,” Bucky jumps in, wanting nothing more than to get out of your mother’s house.

“All hotels are booked up. I talked to Mrs. Brock yesterday. There are no free rooms left. Your boyfriend can sleep here,” your mother chuckles. “I know you are all grown, Munchkin.” She kisses your cheek before leaving the room.

Awkward silence spreads through the room. You look at your boss, the man ruining Christmas and your career for you within a few seconds. “Why didn’t you tell her?” He asks.

“Why didn’t you tell her?” You throw your hands up. Dropping another bomb at your mom is the last thing you want. Maybe she forgot that you told her about the breakup some weeks ago.

“Uh—you know, I wanted the password and feared she’d kick me out getting to know I’m your boss.”

“Ex-boss,” you point out. Putting your hands on your hips, you huff. “Okay, we will survive one night. You’ll sleep in the guestroom, and tomorrow morning we will find a way to get you out of my hometown.”

“Good,” Bucky mutters.

“Good,” you snap at him before storming out of the room.

How to cure a grump (3)

More tags in reblog.

@cjand10, @nofingjustaninchident, @pettyjayy

[ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit]

Yuu has the audacity to ask a question. It leads to some interesting moments  

Jade Leech, Rook Hunt, Vil Schoenheit, Floyd Leech

Jade Leech 

“Jade, can I ask you a question?” It’s not often that the library is so packed that you end up sharing a table but if it had to be with anybody, at least it was Jade.  

Jade wasn’t naturally academically smart. He took a lot of notes and studied in order to come out in the middle. There were folks that thought he was simply keeping his head down, but Yuu found out by accident. She knew Jade was incredibly street smart and people savvy though, no matter what grades he got. It worked in her favor though, as Jade let them copy notes from last year in exchange for not sharing the information anywhere. Not that Yuu planned too, but they weren’t going to pass up such an opportunity either.  

“Of course, I will assist in anyway I can.”  

“Do you have any books that you would recommend for scavenging for local flora and fauna in the woods back at Ramshackle? I’ve tried searching through the library but it’s a bit too vague for what I need.”

If Yuu had blinked, they would have missed the brief surprise and delight on his face.  

“Well,” he sets his pen down, “As the president of the Mountain Lovers club, I’m sure we could discuss that during our meetings. If only you were a member.” he sighed  

“If only Crowley would allow me to join any clubs.” Yuu muttered, “I know it's a requirement for first and second years to be involved in at least one, but he says I have far more to offer as his unofficial assistant. Unpaid is more accurate but what do I know.”  

Jade smiles, the one that matches his brothers. Wide and full of teeth.  

“Leave Crowley to me, dear Prefect. You just meet me in the morning behind Ramshackle. Bring a basket and your camera, oh, and dress warm. It'll be cold for you.”  

He writes some extra instructions on a slip of paper and collects his things, turning left at the library doors. Damn, that was straight to the headmasters’ office too. Jade really doesn't play around when it comes to the Mountain Lover's club.

While Yuu isn’t able to attend every meeting, the Mountain Lover’s club apparently includes trips to other countries, recipes cooked in the Ramshackle kitchen as well as appreciating cultures and crafts made by various peoples which slowly starts to decorate the rickety dorm into something interesting and unique. Jade becomes a different person as a traveler and seems to find joy in just exploring and discovering all the different ways that people create and eat and live.  

After he graduates, Yuu gifts him the book that the two of them created, with pictures and descriptions of all the Night Raven College fauna and flora, their uses, if they are edible, and different recipe and potion ingredients, the regions it comes from, and even snippets of stories and memories they share.  

Jade is not an emotional man, but when he asks you to come with him on his next expedition, his smile is full of joy.  

Rook Hunt

“Rook, can I ask you a question?”  

Rook looks down from his spot in the tree, a camera perched in his hands. “Amazing eyesight, Mon Trickster! I did not anticipate being found. Ask away, but be quick, less Roi de Lion suspects me.”  

“Are there any plays or poetry books that would be good for a beginner? I read a lot back home but I know there is cultural and historical context I'm going to be missing-” 

“I am so happy!” he practically drops the tree, taking both of her hands to kiss the knuckles, “I would be happy to help you. Come, come!”  

Oh, they are going to the library now. Right now. Ok, Yuu should have expected that.  

Rook is always excitable, but he’s mindful as well. Picking out smaller volumes at first, and adding some reference materials, putting a few back as he asks questions about what she has already read or what she typically enjoys. He also writes out a list for audio books and radio performances. Thank the Seven that Crowley finally got them a phone and they could excuse the data usage for school.  

“I have the films I would be willing to lend, but I would ask you be incredibly careful.”  

“Oh, I don’t have a TV or any type of DVD player at Ramshackle. We try and keep the places as authentic as possible. It helps when the ghosts come to visit on Hallow’s eve.” They don’t have wifi either and their electricity runs off a backup generator, but Yuu doesn’t mention that. They are distinctly aware of how rundown Ramshackle is, but they try not to advertise how badly.  

“What dedication you have to your dorm and the history of Night Raven College. We may do so in Pomefiore!”  

And that’s how they end up having movie night basically every Wednesday night, sometimes with other Pomefiore members or even Vil himself refreshing on the classics. Rook would sit close by, quietly explaining certain contexts and even joining Yuu on reading through some of the poetry books. His passion comes out more with his knowledge than his speech in those moments, and it’s...nice. Normally Rook is the most reserved person she knows. He’s family is still a mystery, but she’s learned more about his beliefs and insights into how he perceives life in general. 

“This is how I met Roi de Poison, you know. He enchanted me at first sight, but his mind...he understood my passion for theater, music and beauty. He respected me, once I proved that I loved him for more than his looks and roles.”  

Crazy fan he might have been in the past, it was definitely more of an equal relationship once you saw past the surface level. Yuu eventually started picking a few habits and fashion tips, slowly becoming a bit more refined. Elegant even, she might say.  

When she hesitantly asks for help with other things, it's easier each time. Help with skincare routines, or experimenting with make-up, what colors work best and how silhouettes come across. It’s never been this fun to experiment with her style. It helps that Rook, while thinking certain things definitely work, will be gentle in the things that aren’t.  

“They do not enhance your beauty,” he says, sounding like Vil, “And you are already magnifique.”  

He is the first person that she shares her book of stories with, the precognitions that she has  

“Do you think fairy tales are fiction?” He asks her, quietly skimming over the passages of Snow White. The Fairest Queen is barely mentioned, but without her, there is no story.  

“Living here feels like a fairy tale, but if it is, you’ve made it a wonderful dream.”  

Rook looks at her, a surprised chuckle slipping out. Before he can hide it, his nose crinkles, a smile wide enough to show his gums, and Yuu thinks it enhances all the best of him.  

Vil Schoenheit 

“Vil, may I ask you a question?” 

“At least somebody paid attention when I went over manners. You may.” Vil says, as he adds in some sort of lilac powder. Normally, they wouldn’t have any classes together, but with Yuu acting as an ‘assistant’ towards the teachers to make extra cash, they got to see the second and third years more than even the other first years in their dorms.  

“How do you make time for it all? Between the acting jobs, getting good grades in school, indulging in potionology and homebrew makeup in your limited free time, it seems like you get so much done with just as much time as the rest of us.”  

“Thank you for noticing.” Vil says, looking up from his potion work. “And yes, I do keep a very organized schedule. Every minute is planned and my down time is spent decompressing efficiently.”  

“Is there any articles or techniques you would recommend? Or a template you used?” 

“You could just ask me for help, you know.” he retorts, huffing a bit.  

“I know I could, but I also want to be respectful of what you have on your plate.”  

“Ah, potato...I have plenty of time, especially in this season. I don’t schedule anything this close to finals. Come sit with me this evening for dinner and we will talk goals and progress markers. There is more to this mentally than most people think.”  

Vil is a bit less than impressed when he sees just how much Yuu accomplishes for Night Raven College with no credit and makes a note to talk to the teachers and Crowley about getting her properly compensated or at least. But overall, it goes well, making time for exercise, hobbies, studies and even some time with him. Telling her about the techniques he used and actually practicing them were two different things, and some things are just easier to show rather than tell.  

“Alright, let’s start here.”  

Mindfulness, ironically for somebody outside Scarabina, is important to Vil. Sinking fully into the experience of his daily life, looking at all the colors, enjoying his foods with no screens, or just enjoying the quiet while he removes makeup. His decompress is like a valve that he releases in minutes throughout the day, not hours at the end of it.

“This takes practice. Don’t discourage yourself if you don’t get it every time, eventually it will come more naturally.”  

And it does. Over the months, Yuu feels more productive than ever, even finding time to wonder about her own style. It is a bit embarrassing when Vil enters Ramshackle to use the Guest Room to study and sees her hastily trying to wash off eyeshadow. 

“Oh, spudling, not your color. No, no, here.” He sits, and teaches, a bit harshly at times, but he wouldn’t be Vil if he wasn’t direct. Much like Riddle, he fully believes that people can reach his level, and sees no reason why they shouldn’t. And while Yuu will never be Vil pretty, she certainly feels more beautiful and confident now than she ever has before.  

It isn’t until Vil is reviewing one of his performances that Yuu makes a comment, some offhand remark about the script not quite matching the vernacular expected for the period, that he invites her to sit and review more.  

Yuu doesn’t think it’s anything spectular, it’s kind of obvious, but apparently it wasn’t to the rest of the audience.  

Vil sits at thier usual tea table in the Night Raven Gardens, and slides a ticket over to her.  

“If you have time. I know you recently picked up a few photography jobs in town that would be a shame to miss. Rapport with clients is key, you know.”  

It’s the red-carpet event to a 5th year anniversary movie he did as a child. All glitz and glam, showing just how much they have grown as actors and people since their debuts. It’s a milestone even for Vil, the first and only role where he was played a supporting role that wasn’t a villain or antagonist.  

“What colors are you wearing? I might have something that compliments.” Yuu asks, already going through their mind for anything suitable in Ramshackle.  

“Well,” Vil preens, opening his laptop. “We will just have to buy something together to ensure we match, won’t we? When are you free?” 

It’s so small Yuu almost misses it, but hidden underneath his painted blush is a heated blush, quiet and pink and delighted.  

Floyd Leech

“Floyd, can I ask you a question?”   

Floyd doesn’t even bother looking up from his spot at the table, “Better not be a boring question Shrimpy, or I’ll squeeze ya~” 

“Where do you go to get your shoes repaired?”  

His head snaps up just a bit, left eye brighter than usual.  

“Ace had mentioned that your sole had torn during practice,” Yuu continues, feeling like they have to explain themselves with how intensely he was staring, “But the next day it had been stitched back on like new. There are some fantastic leather boots from the old NRC uniforms that I'd love to use, but I’m trying to find somebody who won’t butcher them or tell me they aren’t repairable just cause there old or out of style, you know?”  

Floyd nods, eyes still searching before ultimately just shrugging his shoulders. “Hmmm...at least it wasn’t boring. Meet at Monstro Lounge at 6 lil’ Shrimpy, bring the shoes!”  

He walks away before Yuu can even say that they have to meet with somebody else, but that really isn’t a possibility when a Leech brother has demanded your attention. Looks like you’ll have to reschedule with Deuce.  

The Monstro Lounge is fairly steady, though Yuu has never seen it slow. Always some sort of deal or exclusive that sets these rich bastards running through the doors, even if it’s just so they don’t have to deal with the lines in the cafeteria or cook their own food.  

Jade waves you in, taking the box from your hands in a gentlemanly manner, and leading you to the side. Floyd is quick to intercept, mumbling a thank you before his long strides leave you almost jogging.  

“Alright, let’s see what we are working with.”  

The dorm is clearly shared between him and Jade. Crisp white walls, a seashell and sea motif on the desk and headboard and some floating shelves that look vaguely like drift wood, exactly what she expected from Octanvinelle. But that’s about all the two sides have in common. Jade’s is organized, of course, but notable is the terrariums on the shelves and a stack of geology books tucked into the corner, along with photos of places he may have been or plans to go.

Floyd’s half is a mess, yes, but it’s organized chaos, like looking at Ace and Deuce’s dorm. High protein snacks are tucked on the shelves, completed 3D puzzles, and...fashion magazines? Huh, he did say that merpeople didn’t really have a reason to wear clothes so land peoples being so obsessed with it would be interesting, especially in different regions or cultures. And the trends are constantly changing. It actually started fitting, the more Yuu thought about it.  

Floyd set the box on the desk, picking up the shoes and bending them this way and that, pressing on the heel or pinches the toe.  

“You’ve taken good care of them,” He says, “The stitches are loose and the nails need to be hammered back in, but the leather is clean and strong. I’d get some new leather laces though, the wax on these has completely frayed from misuse. How old are these?”  

“They're from back when Ezra and the others went to school, but they don’t have a great concept of time.” Floyd raises an eyebrow. “Oh, the ghosts at Ramshackle.”  

“Huh, no wonder it felt like the place was trying to kick us out.” Floyd walks over to the walk-in closet and Yuu has to double take. She would have mistaken the closet for Jade’s! On the left, the clothes are hung neatly on the rack except for the everyday items like the basketball or school uniform which have their own spots hung neatly on the door itself. Below that are clear boxes that seem to hold all sort of tools. Are these hobbies that Floyd has picked up and gotten bored with?

But the right side of the walk in closet is just racks and racks of shoes. Wing tip dress, loafers, even a few kitten heels and red backed stiletos. All perfectly shined and displayed.  

“Floyd, you repair your own shoes?” Yuu taking the box he hands her.

“When you are as tall as me and Jade, you end up having to customize and fix a lot of your own clothes, unless you wanna pay some stupid prices, and standing there while they pin and stuff is boring. I’d rather just do it myself.” He takes out a wicked looking needle and a stand, securing it to the desk with a flick of a lever. “Which pair is your size?”  

“Oh, these.” she says, picking up a pair of loafers and ankle boots. “I can’t afford for you to do this for me Floyd. I don’t have the funds right now.” 

He just leans against the table with a laugh, “Oh, I aint doin’ it for free. Your gonna pay me by letting me keep a pair, specifically those.”

He points to the bottom of the box, a pair of thigh high riding boots from what she can tell.  

“Those are the ones in the worst shape?”  

“Oh, I won’t be able to get them to their original form, but I can lengthen the sole and toe area a bit, add a heel, and have a wicked pair of thighs high stilettos that’ll have even Betta fish jealous~” 

“With your legs, you’d look really good in a skirt.”  

They both blink.  

“Shit, sorry, my mouth ran-” Floyd laughs, something softer than usual.  

“Your damn right Shrimpy.” He smiles, “I do look damn good in a skirt. I prefer dresses though.”  

He takes a seat, motioning for her to take the other side, sets the shoe inside the stand, and starts explaining the process. It doesn’t always make sense but he’s clearly passionate about it.  

This might be a truer version of him, Yuu thinks, seeing him carefully take out a rusted nail to pull out a fresh silver one from an even smaller box. One that isn’t bored or moody, but just...getting able to do something that actually interests him.  

“Hey Floyd. Do you want to go thrifting with me and Kalim on Sunday? I think you’d have some interesting things to say about some of the finds, especially the clothes mart. They literally have a bin of vintage pieces for a dollar a piece.”  

He leans back, and does that smile again. All teeth but his eyes relax, all boyishly charming.  

“You got all the audacity in the world, don’t you?” He chuckles, “I’ll get my shift covered.”  

[moonstruckme]

I remember seeing you say a little while ago you would take holiday requests so if this sparks some inspo for you…. How about best friend!Steve being reader’s secret Santa and giving a gift that is so sweet and personal and kind of a confession of his feelings (like Jim’s gift for Pam in the office)

Thank you for requesting!

best friend!Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 984 words

Steve’s afraid his wrapping is a dead giveaway. 

He tried his best, but gift wrapping is a new skill for him. There’s an overabundance of tape and plastic bows covering up a hasty patch job. Nancy laughed when he gave it to her to put under the tree for the secret Santa exchange. She called him sweet for trying with a weird look in her eyes and a little smile. 

You and Steve are sitting together as always. Sometimes he wonders if it’s more habit at this point than anything else. You walk into a room and you just go to him, unthinking, like a magnet. Steve does the same thing, but, well. He knows why he does it. 

So far, Eddie’s gotten a large pack of socks without holes in them, Robin’s gotten a Bangles album, and Steve has gotten a t-shirt with the words Big Dick printed on it that he’s sure Eddie—it had to have been Eddie—thinks he won’t wear, and so he will wear solely to Corroded Coffin shows, out of spite. When it’s your turn, you find Steve’s gift with your name under the tree and your eyes move between your friends suspiciously. He’s not sure whether to be relieved that you don’t immediately guess it’s from him. 

It’s painful to watch how carefully you unwrap it. You peel back layer after layer of tape, unfolding without ripping, the paper crinkling gently. 

“Come on!” Eddie jokes. “That’s not the spirit of Christmas. You’re supposed to tear it up.” 

“No!” you laugh. “Someone put a lot of effort into this. Look at all the bows!”

“Look at all the tape,” Robin mutters. She’s got Steve dialed, for sure. 

The box underneath the wrapping is plain cardboard, found in Steve’s basement. Your lips part as you open it. 

“Oh, my god.” You lift a large ceramic mug from the box. “This is—it’s my mug. Steve?” 

Steve fights a smile as you look at him, eyes wide and happy. “Can we say?” 

Robin makes a derisive noise. “Like she doesn’t already know.” 

“Steve,” you say again, stretched out and sweet like taffy. Your face softens as you reach around him for a hug. “This is so cool. Where’d you get this?” 

“Well, they didn’t only make one,” he jokes. He’s working hard to contain the full scope of his smile. God knows Eddie would never let him hear the end of it if he saw. “I found a lookalike.” 

Behind you, Robin makes a face, widening her eyes at her girlfriend dramatically. Steve is sure Nancy’s heard all about how Robin was dragged from thrift store to thrift store, town to town, one long Saturday until they found the right mug. He’s glad when she doesn’t launch into her tale of complaint again now. 

“Harrington got you your own mug?” Eddie asks, perplexed. “Did he, like, steal it from you and give it back?”

“No,” you laugh. “No, it’s…” You turn, your eyes meeting Steve’s. 

The mug is from a coffee shop you and Steve used to go to. You went together for years, starting back in school when you wanted a place to study and Steve was willing to pay three bucks for a cup of coffee to talk at you while you worked. It had become your regular spot. You had a couch you always sat on, and the baristas recognized you, so eventually there was a mug your drink order always came in, too. It was wide and green, curved with a thick lip. Plain enough, Steve thought, but you loved it. Maybe it was more that you loved having a regular drink order at a place that felt like yours, but for some reason the mug was special to you. The coffee shop closed down last summer. Steve couldn’t get you your couch (he thought about it, but it wasn’t sure where you’d put it and it seemed like a bit much), so he got your mug. 

“It’s from this place we used to go,” you say to Eddie. Your thumb brushes across the smooth ceramic, still looking at Steve. “Thank you.” 

“Yeah, sure.” He shrugs, leaning back against Nancy’s couch and trying not to look too obviously pleased with himself. “It wasn’t a big deal.” 

Robin makes a half-suppressed guffawing sound. Steve sends her a look to tell her to zip it. 

⋆⁺₊𖠰₊⁺⋆

You lean into Steve’s side, and Nancy watches his face turn into something so tender she almost wants to grab her friend’s heart and keep it safe for him. But she thinks it’s safe with you. 

Anyway, there’s no saving Steve now. He’s been looking at you that way for years, practically since he’s known you. It’s only that now you might be starting to see it. 

You’re speaking to him quietly, holding your new mug between your hands like it’s the most precious thing you own. Your legs are nearly in Steve’s lap. He says something back to you, and you smile, bright and beatific. Your eyes stay glued to him like he's the center of your world. 

“Still can’t believe it took a whole Saturday to find a green mug,” Robin mutters, too low for anyone else to hear. She’s stolen Steve’s Big Dick shirt and put it on over her long sleeve, the large fit comical (and adorable, if you ask Nancy) as she tucks one of her knees up under it. 

“I don’t know,” Nancy says, leaning sideways so their shoulders rest together. “I think it’s sweet. It obviously means something to her. Don’t you think that’s sort of worth it?” 

Robin makes a soft sound in the back of her throat, but she softens when Nancy turns her eyes up to hers. “I guess so,” she sighs. 

On the other side of the couch, you erupt in laughter at something Steve’s said. He lights brighter than the Christmas tree.

[captainsophiestark]

A Very Dagger Christmas

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: Top Gun

Summary: Jake's down bad for his SO in a way his friends have never seen before, and they want to make sure his SO knows it.

Word Count: 2,015

Category: Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"You cheated! I saw you bump the ball, don't try to deny it!"

"I did not cheat! You just suck at pool!"

"Pilots! I will ban pool for the rest of the night if I have to. Don't test me."

"Sorry, Penny..."

I watched the unfolding drama around the pool table of the Hard Deck with a smile as I sipped the last of my hot chocolate. Penny had closed the whole place for a little early Christmas celebration between her, Amelia, Mav, and the Daggers, and as the partner of Jake Seresin, I'd been invited along this year. The atmosphere, food and drink, and free entertainment all combined to make this my favorite Christmas party attended so far.

"Hey."

I looked up to see my boyfriend, Jake, crossing the room towards me with a big smile and two mugs in his hands. I shifted over a little on the cushy loveseat Penny had moved in for the evening's party, giving Jake room to settle in next to me.

"I brought you another cup of hot chocolate," he said, leaning in to kiss my forehead as I took the mug from him. "Not spiked, although I still don't know how you're putting up with all these idiots sober."

I laughed. "I love your friends, Jake. And I want to remember all the embarassing shit they pull clear as day, so I can use it against them later."

"And that's why you're the best. Amazing." Jake leaned in to punctuate his statement with a kiss, this time on the lips. I smiled into the kiss, then snuggled into Jake's chest once we broke apart. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, holding me closely, and the moment was one of absolutely perfect peace and comfort despite the chaos continuing around us.

"Thanks for inviting me along to this, by the way," I said, my voice low as I curled into Jake, more relaxed than I'd been all week in the leadup to this party. Jake hummed, and I could feel the vibrations all through his chest.

"Thanks for agreeing to come. I've been to a few of these now, and this one's already a lot better with you here. A lot." I leaned even further into Jake, squeezing his thigh gently with my free hand. After a moment, Jake continued. "Although, honestly, you might want to wait to thank me until after we play Dirty Santa."

I let out a long, heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of my nose.

"Babe. I hate it when you call it that. You live in California now, it's White Elephant! Dirty Santa sounds like something much different and much worse than a fun gift exchange."

"Worse?" asked Jake, a familiar grin and note of mischief in his tone as he leaned down to whisper in my ear, his arm wandering from my shoulders to my waist. When he spoke again, it was nothing more than a low growl in my ear. "Or better?"

I considered for a moment, then shook my head and leaned back as much as I could in the small loveseat.

"No. The delivery and everything normally would've worked, but not for the phrase 'Dirty Santa', and not at the non-blood-relative family Christmas party. Nice try, through."

Jake just smiled and shook his head. He leaned in again, pulling me towards him like he was about to double down, but before he got the chance, we were interrupted by a few of his friends shouting from the pool table.

"Hangman! Get over here, we need some fresh blood at this pool table!"

Jake just rolled his eyes and waved the guys off, but they refused to take no for an answer. After a moment, I leaned up and kissed Jake on the cheek and gave him a little smile, then moved his arm from around my shoulders myself.

"Go," I said. "You've got honor to defend in pool, and you should probably get a game or two in now before Penny inevitably has to ban it."

Jake grinned, but he didn't move from the seat next to me.

"...Are you sure? I don't want to abandon you."

I just waved him off. "I'm fine, I like all your friends, and I already know most of them pretty well. No risk of abandonment here, I promise."

"Great." Jake leaned in to give me a quick kiss, then pulled back with a grin that spelled trouble. "Then I have some people who need to get their asses kicked in pool."

With that, he hopped up and took off to join the group at the pool table. I watched him with a fond smile, a warm glow sitting in my chest. He was absolutley ridiculous, but he was also absolutely wonderful.

While I was busy watching Jake, Natasha wandered over and took a seat in the chair next to me. I gave her a little smile, then turned back to watching Jake. After a moment, I heard her huff a little laugh, and I turned my attention back to her with a raised eyebrow.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's just... I've never seen him like this."

I frowned, trying to figure out what she was talking about.

"Nat-?"

"Hangman. It's been... nice, but really weird to see him like this."

"Nat, like what?"

She shook her head, her attention drifting to where my boyfriend was in the middle of trash talking at the pool table. She huffed another laugh, then turned back to me.

"He's wearing an ugly Christmas sweater. That matches with yours. Do you know what happened the last time someone tried to get Hangman to do that?"

"...No..."

"He dumped the one Coyote tried to force him into in a pool of oil from the planes."

I snorted, my hand flying to my mouth to cover a disbelieving laugh. I kept waiting for Natasha to smile or something to let me know she was joking, but her expression stayed dead serious.

"...Really?"

"Yes, really! And you're the first partner he's ever brought to more than one of our events, the first one he hasn't given a bunch of shit to for not drinking with him, the first one in years any of us have bothered to learn the name of. He's in a good mood, he's clearly just as happy to sit with you over here as he is to be in the middle of the pool game over there. Even right after he and Rooster get into it, he smiles at you two seconds later and it's like nothing even happened. Do you know how long those stupid moods of his usually last?"

I huffed a laugh and shook my head. Everything Natasha was saying had my heart racing, but I didn't want to let my imagination run away from me. Surely I didn't have that big of an impact on Jake, no matter what Natasha seemed to think.

"Hey guys," said Mickey, coming over to join the two of us with a smile. "I needed to get the hell out of that pool game while I still could. It's about to be a knock down dragout between Mav, Rooster, and Hangman. We're taking bets on how long it'll be before Penny bans pool and who's going to be the final straw to cause it if you guys want in."

"...What are the current odds?" asked Natasha, leaning forward. Mickey quickly walked her through the bet layout as it stood, then continued with a grin before she could stake anything.

"There's one other rule you should be aware of: no one's allowed to send our newest extended family member into the fray to influence the odds."

He nodded towards me when he said it, and I raised an eyebrow, but Nat almost shot out of her chair in indignation.

"What? Come on, where's the fun in that?"

"The fun is that we can actually take bets without a win card in everybody's pocket that can keep the game going all night."

Nat threw her hands up and flopped back in her chair, which was my cue to lean forward.

"Mickey... what are you talking about?"

"Hangman's one of the three live wires over there that's going to get way too competitive and ruin the game. If you go over there, you're gonna calm him down and totally ruin the fairness of our bet."

I laughed and shook my head, copying Nat and flopping back in my chair.

"I think you guys are seriously overestimating my influence on Jake's fundamental personality. We've been together long enough now that I think I would've noticed if he was a completely different person around me."

"Okay, first of all, no you wouldn't have," started Mickey. "If he were a different person around you, you'd only ever see the person he is around you, because you're necessarily around him when you're seeing him. And second, we're not saying he's a totally different person."

Nat hummed like she might disagree, and Mickey gave her a little nod.

"Okay, at least I'm not. What we're really trying to say is... he's obviously pretty committed, and very happily tied down. It's made him more grounded in a way that I honestly never thought I'd see. But it's nice, and it's definitely because of you."

I just hummed, processing Mickey's words. Jake and I had been dating for a few months, and although we hadn't really sat down to talk about it, we were clearly getting pretty serious. At least, I was. And it was nice to know that Jake's friends seemed to notice the same thing coming from Jake.

I stayed in my seat chatting with Natasha and Mickey for a while longer, until pool was eventually called off with Amelia having won the bet, to no one's surprise. Everyone wandered over to join Nat, Mickey, and I to begin White Elephant, and Jake settled into the loveseat next to me again.

"How was pool?" I asked as he handed me another mug of hot chocolate, further defending his position as my dream man.

"Fine, until Rooster started cheating. And then he has the nerve to call me on it when I started doing it to, to level the playing field!"

I just laughed and curled further into Jake's chest as he shot Rooster an aggressive stink eye. Luckily for all of us, Rooster didn't catch it.

The rest of the night passed much more peacefully sans pool table, even though White Elephant was as explosive as Jake had been expecting. Still, once it was over and we'd all settled in to relax together by the fire, any of the negatively chaotic moments of the night were long forgotten.

I laid my head on Jake's chest, listening to the soothing rythm of his heartbeat as Jake ran his hand gently up and down my arm. I was honestly on the edge of drifting off to sleep when Jake's voice drew me back. He was speaking quietly, right next to my ear, so softly that I wasn't sure he even meant for me to hear him.

"I love you. So fucking much."

I shifted just enough to meet Jake's eyes. He seemed surprised to find me awake, but a determination I usually only saw when I got to visit him on base was shining in his eyes.

"I love you," he repeated, louder this time. "And it's okay if you aren't ready to say it back or don't want to or whatever. But... I need you to know. I love you more than I've ever loved somebody before."

I smiled, my heart melting as I leaned up to kiss Jake. I ran my hands through the hair on the back of his neck, then pulled back just enough to meet his eyes again and whispered against his lips.

"I love you too, Jake. More than anyone or anything. So, so much."

His face lit up like the sun. His arm wrapped tight around my waist, and he pulled me closer to him than was probably appropriate for our current setting. He kissed me, hard, and I kissed him right back. I'd been in love with Jake Seresin for a while now, but it was nice to finally say it out loud. And even nicer to hear it back.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen @misshale21

Top Gun Taglist: @elenavampire21

[goldfades]

★ RIZZLER P ─── PB⁵ (part 2/2)

౨ৎ ─ summary | part one -> y/n is a youtuber and on the cancelled podcast, she reveals she has a crush on paige bueckers. y/n gets invited to her first game of the season and they have a lot of fun! part one!!!!!!!!!!!

─ warnings | literally nothing but banter and fun, slight paige slander (but its from kk and ice so its ok), idk what else. oh brooke and tana being protective but its in a sweet way. also i love this mini series i loved it

─ ev's notes | sooo im trying out a semi-new format, lmk if yall like it!!!!!!!

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my wcbb masterlist!

Paige 💕 (paigebueckers) started following you.

Paige 💕 wants to send you a message. Hey, I heard you were into D1 basketball players? 😉

The message stuck out to you, your stomach dropping as you read the message request. You couldn't help but grin as you read her playful message, the nervous energy in your stomach now morphing into a thrilling anticipation. With shaky hands, you tapped on the message request, your heart pounding in your chest.

You couldn't believe Tana's advice had actually worked ─ talking about them on a podcast was the best rizz, apparently.

With trembling hands, you typed out a response, trying to come across confident despite the fluttering of nerves in your stomach.

Y/N 🎀 hi, you saw the episode?

Y/N 🎀 god i'm so embarrassed, sorry if you keep getting bombarded with questions from my fans lol. they mean well i swear 😫

You exited out of Instagram and tapped on iMessage, quickly getting into your group-chat with the girls.

we ❤️ white claws

y/n | GUESS WHO DM'D ME

tana | PAIGE BUECKERS???????

brooke | it better be paige or ur just blue balling us atp

y/n | yes it was paigeeee! *sends screenshot*

brooke | omgggg she's flirting with you!!!!

tana | what did i say bro?? what did i say?????

y/n | tysm tana ur literally the fucking best

As you were typing out your message to the groupchat, your phone buzzed. You looked up at the message, a smile spreading on your lips.

Paige 💕 Haha, yeah, I saw the episode. Don't worry about it, it's all good :)

Paige 💕 And no need to apologize, ur fans are really funny lol

You closed your phone, shutting your eyes as you swallowed a squeal of excitement.

The thrill of talking to Paige was almost overwhelming, but in the best possible way. You'd thought she was attractive since you'd first gotten into basketball back in high school (yes, it was because of your ex but that's besides that point), and it was surreal now that she was not only talking to you ─ she was hitting on you.

──

It had been a few weeks since you'd began talking to Paige and since then, you'd exchanged phone numbers and were talking every single day. She was sending you good morning texts, she made sure to do an fit check every morning, and you found yourself eagerly awaiting each message from her. The thrill of talking to Paige hadn't faded; if anything, it had only intensified as you got to know her better.

However, you knew since the season was beginning she wasn't going to be as free as she was before. You didn't mind, of course ─ you were just happy you were able to talk to her at all. These last couple days had been busy for her and you hadn't been able to talk to her, but this morning you'd gotten something in the mail that you were sure you didn't order.

You ripped it open to reveal Paige's jersey, and it was even signed at the bottom. You couldn't believe it, your heart swelling with warmth at the unexpected gesture from her. Holding the jersey in your hands, you couldn't help but smile at the thoughtfulness behind her gift.

As if on cue, your phone began buzzing in your pocket and you pulled it out. You quickly accepted the Facetime, a grin on your face as you answered.

"Oh my god, you're insane."

"What? You got the jersey?" Paige feigned shock, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she grinned at you through the screen. "I have no idea how that got there."

You chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief. "Yeah, I got it. Thank you so much, Paige. It's... it's amazing."

Paige's smile softened, her eyes warm with affection. "You're welcome. I just wanted to show my appreciation for you, you know?"

You felt a swell of warmth in your chest. "Well, it definitely made my day. Thanks, P. I really mean it."

Paige smirked as she took you in through the Facetime. "So, I guess you'll have to wear it to my games now, right? You can't let this signed jersey go to waste."

"Is that an invitation, P?" You teased, raising an eyebrow playfully as you grinned at Paige through the screen. The idea of attending Paige's games in her signed jersey filled you with excitement, and you couldn't wait to cheer her on from the stands.

Paige chuckled, her smirk widening. "Yeah, you down? You know our first game's on Thursday night, I'll get you floor tickets and everything."

You didn't think she was serious but the more you thought about it, the more you realized she might actually be serious. The excitement bubbled up within you at the thought of attending Paige's game, especially with floor tickets.

"Are you serious?" you asked, a hint of disbelief in your voice.

"Well, uh. I know it's a long flight but I wanna see you. I'll fly you out, I'll show you around and we can spend some time together, and stuff." Paige's usual confident demeanor was replaced with a touch of nervousness, her eyes searching yours for a reaction.

"Paige, are you sure?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The idea of spending time together in person was both thrilling and nerve-wracking, and you couldn't believe that Paige was offering to fly you out just to see her.

Paige nodded, a shy smile tugging at her lips. "Of course, I would. I mean, if you want to."

"Yeah, of course I would. You're sure?" You spoke softly but earnestly. Flights were expensive, especially when they were as last minute as this.

Paige let out a dramatic sigh as she nodded. "Yes, bro. Yes or no?"

"Yeah, of course. Gosh, so impatient." You teased as Paige laughed through the Facetime.

Paige chuckled, her laughter filling the screen as she rolled her eyes playfully. "Okay, good. Now show me how my jersey looks on you, put it on for me."

You blushed slightly as you nodded, taking the jersey as you walked up the stairs of your house. You couldn't believe it ─ you were flying out to meet Paige in less than a week. You were going to meet Paige Bueckers in less than a week.

──

"Y/N L/N is flying out to see your ass?" KK's voice sounded shocked as sat up on the bed, her eyes wide and her jaw slightly dropped in disbelief.

Paige kept her eyes on her phone as she nodded slowly, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. She tried to keep the whole nonchalant thing going up but her friends could see right through it.

Paige couldn't help but smirk at KK's shocked reaction, though she attempted to maintain an air of nonchalance. "Yeah, she is," she replied casually, her fingers tapping away on her phone.

"She's coming to watch us play, like on Thursday?" KK repeated slowly as she tried to process the information, her eyes still wide with astonishment. "Seriously?"

Paige shrugged, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Yeah, seriously. Why is it so hard to believe?"

Ice, who had been lounging next to KK, chimed in with a smile. "Sounds like you're getting serious, P. Bringing her to a game? That's basically a relationship milestone."

Paige rolled her eyes playfully at Ice's comment. "It's not like that, Ice. We're just friends."

"Does she know that? You're such a fuckboy, Paige." Ice rolled her eyes as she exchanged a look with KK.

Paige couldn't help but laugh at Ice's teasing, though she couldn't deny the warmth spreading through her chest at the thought of you. "Trust me, Ice, she knows. And I'm not a fuckboy, I'm just... being a good friend."

KK chuckled, nudging Ice playfully. "Come on, Ice, let's not scare Paige away from the relationship talk."

"Bro, fuck off," Paige groaned as she sighed, leaning back in the gaming chair.

Paige knew she liked you but at this point, she'd only been texting you for a month and before she could be official with you, she'd have to spend time with you in real life. Plus, you lived in California and long distance was not the ideal for her.

"Are we getting those live show tickets or..." KK began as Paige sent her a glare. She put up her hands in defense as Ice let out a small laugh, shaking her head in amusement.

"Don't worry, we can ask her Thursday," Ice teased as she leaned back in the bed, her grin widening.

"Bro, you better leave her alone-"

"Ooo, she's getting possessive already. You have to remember it's Y/N, bro, she's definitely going to have some fans too." KK laughed, joining in on the teasing with a playful smirk.

Paige rolled her eyes at her friends' banter, though she couldn't help but feel a hint of amusement at their antics. "Guys, come on. Let's not make a big deal out of it."

KK chuckled, nudging Ice with her elbow. "Oh, come on, Paige, we'll behave."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Paige retorted as the girls laughed.

──

Y/N 🎀 posted on her story !

You were incredibly nervous and the noise of the crowded stadium didn't do much to calm your already frayed nerves. It was your first time meeting Paige in person, and the anticipation had been building up inside you since the moment you boarded the plane to Connecticut.

The plan was to originally go to a pre-game dinner but it didn't really work out because of the traffic and the hectic schedule leading up to the game. Instead, Paige suggested meeting directly at the stadium, where she would give you a tour and introduce you to some of her teammates before the game started.

As you made your way through the crowds, your heart pounded with nervous excitement. Thoughts raced through your mind, wondering if Paige would like you in person as much as she seemed to over text, if you would have enough to talk about, and if you'd be able to keep your nerves in check. You were a nervous wreck, your stomach twisting in anxiety.

You couldn't help but feel a knot forming in your stomach as you scanned the crowd, searching for Paige among the sea of faces. Suddenly, you spotted her standing near the entrance to the court, her eyes scanning the crowd with a look of concentration. Your breath caught in your throat as you made eye contact, and a wave of relief washed over you.

God, she was even more attractive in real life. Her hair was in her signature braided ponytail and had worn some light make-up, her lashes long and her cheeks pink with blush.

Paige's face lit up with a bright smile as she caught sight of you, and she began weaving her way through the crowd towards you. Your nerves melted away as she drew closer, and before you knew it, her arms wrapped around you in a light embrace.

She was even taller than you expected ─ she practically towered over you, but her embrace felt warm and comforting. As she pulled back, you couldn't help but admire the way her eyes sparkled with excitement as she scanned your outfit.

"You're wearing the jersey!" She exclaimed as her eyes took you in, she had no shame in the fact she was checking you out. You didn't miss the way she bit her lip and how her eyes lingered, your face flushing with warmth at her gaze.

"Yeah, I wanted to show my support," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady despite the fluttering of nerves in your stomach. "Plus, it's pretty comfy."

Paige grinned, her smile widening at your response. "Well, you look amazing in it. Maybe even better than I do," she teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

You couldn't help but laugh at her teasing, your blush deepening as you looked up at the taller girl. "You're such a flirt,"

Paige bit her lip as her head fell back as she laughed, her laughter filling the air around you and sending a shiver of excitement down your spine. "Nah, I wasn't even trying that time."

Before you could reply, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned around to meet the gazes of two girls and a boy, their expressions nervous and excited. "Oh my god, we are such big fans!"

You smiled instantly as you turned your attention toward them. "Aw, thank you, guys. That means the world, would you like a picture?"

The trio's faces lit up with excitement as they nodded eagerly. "Yes, please!" one of the girls exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement.

"Can she take the picture?" One of the girls asked as she gestured toward Paige. She looked like a deer caught in headlights, her hands in her pockets as she exchanged a glance toward you.

"Uh, sure."

You and the fans gathered closer, posing for the picture as Paige stepped back to frame the shot. With a quick press of the button, the photo was taken, capturing the moment. As the fans thanked you both and walked away, chatting animatedly amongst themselves. You glanced toward the blonde as she began laughing, shaking her head.

"What?" You asked as she drew closer to you.

Paige shrugged. "I just kinda forgot you're like famous, or whatever. It kinda gives me like... an ego boost, not gonna lie."

You couldn't help but laugh at Paige's comment, her candidness adding to the lightheartedness of the moment. "Why?"

"You're like this really pretty girl who's super funny and has like, a whole fanbase. And you flew out to see me, you told everyone on your friend's podcast that you had a crush on me and now you're here, just casually hanging out with me, wearing my jersey like it's no big deal," Paige explained, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.

You laughed at her explanation, feeling a warmth spread through you at her words. "Well, to be fair, you're also this incredible basketball player who's basically taking the WNBA world by storm. And you invited me to your game, so I'd say we're pretty even."

"You're boosting my ego even more though, I hope you know that," Paige replied with a playful grin, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

You chuckled, feeling a sense of ease settle between you. "Just returning the favor," you teased, nudging her playfully.

"Okay, I'ma let me show you around now," Paige grinned as she gestured for you to keep walking. Her hands found your waist and began guiding you through the halls, her touch unexpected but undoubtedly welcome.

You couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement at the contact, her touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. With Paige's arm around your waist, guiding you through the busy stadium corridors, you felt a sense of intimacy that was both thrilling and comforting.

──

As you sat in the stands, surrounded by cheering fans and the energy of the game, your heart raced with excitement. You stole glances at Paige on the court, marveling at her skill and grace as she played. Despite your nerves, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride knowing that you were there to support her.

She was so attractive (even while running around and sweating), she reminded you how much you loved hoopers. The way she moved, the intensity in her eyes as she focused on the game, it all captivated you. Even in the midst of competition, she exuded a confidence and poise that was undeniably attractive.

Your eyes stayed on her the entire game, not paying much attention to anything else. You were so enamored with Paige that you hardly noticed the passage of time. Every movement she made seemed effortless, every shot she took seemed destined to find the net.

As the game reached its end, with the score neck and neck, Paige seemed to rise to the occasion, her determination shining through in every play. And when she sank the winning shot in the final seconds of the game, the crowd erupted into cheers, the sound reverberating throughout the stadium.

You couldn't help but leap to your feet, cheering along with the rest of the fans as you watched Paige celebrate with her teammates on the court.

As the crowd began to disperse and the energy of the game slowly subsided, you made your way down to the court, eager to congratulate Paige. As you approached her, a wide grin spread across her face, and she pulled you into a tight hug, the euphoria of the win still palpable in the air.

Paige didn't care if people took pictures or if people decided to gossip about it later; all she cared about was you being there in that moment.

"You looked really good out there," the words came out of your mouth before you could really process them. Paige pulled out from the hug with a laugh, her arms still around your shoulders.

"And you looked really sexy in the stands, wearing my jersey." Paige smirked playfully, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she teased you.

"I felt like a NBA trophy wife, I was clapping all cutesy cause I knew people were taking pictures of me," you quipped, feeling a rush of excitement at Paige's playful banter. Her laughter was infectious, and you found yourself grinning in response.

Paige chuckled, giving you a playful nudge with her shoulder. "Well, you definitely looked the part," she teased, her tone affectionate as she leaned in closer to you.

You laughed along with her, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort in her presence. "Guess I'll have to start practicing my trophy wife wave for next time," you replied with a playful wink.

"Ooo, next time? Does that mean you'll visit me again?" Paige teased, raising an eyebrow playfully as she looked at you.

You couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for her at her words. "Of course," you replied, your voice filled with sincerity. "But only if you make me a WNBA wife, P."

She squinted as if she was thinking about it, earning a playful shove from you. "I'm just playing, you're the only girl."

"I'd hope so," you scoffed as you playfully rolled your eyes, unable to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

Paige grinned, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, lucky for you, you're my favorite girl," she replied, her tone soft and affectionate.

"So there are other girls?" You teased as she groaned playfully, earning a laugh from you. "I'm just your favorite-"

"That's not what I meant, you're the only one who's wearing my signed jersey, that I sent directly to your house and you're the only one who gets good morning texts and fit checks." Paige countered, her playful smirk widening into a genuine smile.

You couldn't help but laugh at her response, feeling a sense of warmth and happiness fill your chest. "Yeah, I guess you're right," you replied, your tone light and teasing.

Before Paige could reply, she saw Ice and KK approaching from behind you. She sighed as you turned around, meeting their excited gaze.

Paige sighed playfully as she turned to greet Ice and KK, who were clearly eager to join in on the conversation. "Hey, what's up, you two?" she greeted them with a smile, her eyes flickering with amusement.

Ice and KK exchanged a knowing look before KK grinned mischievously. "So, are we interrupting something here?" she teased, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

Paige rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide the smile tugging at her lips. "Y/N, this is KK and Ice. Don't worry about them though, they're just stupid freshman who think they're the shit-"

"Bro, says you!" KK shouted as you laughed, exchanging a smile with Ice.

"I know who you guys are, P talks about you a lot," you said, offering a friendly smile to KK and Ice. "Nice to finally meet you both."

KK's eyes lit up with excitement. "Oh, really? What does she say about us?" she asked eagerly, leaning in closer with a playful grin.

Paige let out a groan, shooting you an amused glance before replying, "Only good things, I promise."

"Yeah, she loves you guys." You smiled as you glanced between Paige, KK, and Ice. "Always talking about your antics and how you keep things interesting."

"She talks about you too, like nonstop." KK began before she earned a shove from a very flustered Paige.

Ice continued, "We thought she was lying until we watched your episode with Tana and Brooke, then we were confused cause you like Paige?"

"Why are you saying it like that? Paige?" Paige mocked Ice, earning a laugh from you and KK.

"Cause Y/N's like a whole baddie, like a 20/20 and you're just like... mid at basketball," Ice explained as Paige sent her a playful glare. "People are gonna be really confused until they see how much you make, then they'll be like ohh,"

"Shut up, bro," Paige replied, but there was a fondness in her tone as she exchanged playful banter with Ice. "It's not about basketball skills, it's about the person."

"Sure, sure," KK chimed in with a grin. "We all know you're a catch, Paige. But hey, if Y/N's into it, who are we to judge?"

You laughed at the girls banter, exchanging a smile with Paige as Ice and KK did the same. "Y/N, we have a question."

"Oh no, bro," Paige groaned as KK nudged her slightly, telling her to be quiet as you nodded, laughing softly.

"Can you get us tickets to Tana and Brooke's shows? Please, we really really wanna go," KK asked, her excitement palpable.

You couldn't help but chuckle at KK's eagerness. "Sure! I'll reach out to them get you guys some," you replied with a smile, already mentally making a note to message Tana and Brooke about it later.

Paige rolled her eyes playfully. "Great, now you're getting my girl to do favors for you," she joked, earning a laugh from both you and KK.

"Your girl?" Ice responded as she raised her brow. "Okay, I see you P, already locking it down."

Paige's cheeks flushed slightly as she playfully nudged Ice. "Shut up, Ice. You know what I mean."

KK leaned in with a mischievous grin. "Oh, we know what you mean, Paige. You're just too scared to admit it."

"Okay, well. Thank you so much, Y/N, you're even more stunning in person. I'll leave you guys to it, now," Ice smirked as she grabbed KK and began walking off the court, toward the team.

Paige let out a sigh before she turned over to meet your eyes, a softness to softness to her expression that made your heart flutter. "Sorry about them, they're like that all the time," she said with a chuckle.

You shook your head with a smile, feeling a sense of contentment settle over you. "No, no, they seem really sweet. They remind me of Tana and Brooke though," you laughed as Paige nodded.

"Uh, sure!" Paige teased as you shook your head in amusement. "I need to go take a shower but um, maybe you can come over?"

Your smile widened at the request as you nodded. "Yeah, sounds like fun."

Again, her hand found the small of your back as she led you toward the team. She was soon reminded of a team celebration they were planning on doing later and the girls insisted on bringing you, she realized that you had become their favorite, too.

But she couldn't blame them, you were perfect.

──

tana mongeau (tanamongeau) started following you. Brooke (brookeschofield) started following you.

tana mongeau wants to send you a message. hurt her and you die, got it blondie ?? not joking btw

Brooke wants to send you a message. Heard you & Y/N had a fun time this weekend! You seem like such a sweet girl, would love to have you on the pod sometime. Promise we'll keep it PG 🤗

Brooke Oh and go huskies!!!! 😁

Paige glanced at her phone with a slight groan, shaking her head. "Oh, you've gotta be kidding me,"

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[jyoongim]

Alastor loves his mother, he protected her from his father and went on a killing spree on all horrible men.

So it only makes sense that he falls in love with single mother reader yeah? Like she killed her husband to protect her child and they both ended up in hell? And Alastor just obsessing with mother reader and her child.

I haven’t written anything in a while so this might be a little wonky but i hope i did ok

———————————————————————————

Alastor hated men that treated good women terribly.

Especially if there were children in the home.

He had lived with his mother, who put up with his father’s abuse for his sake.

Until Alastor had had enough of seeing the woman he loved abused by her husband.

Despite his mother's protests.

His mother always loved his father despite how he treated them.

Love works in mysterious ways Is what his mother use to say.

He didn’t understand what that meant…

Until he met you.

The pretty doll with a tot.

From the grapevine he learned that no one had seen a husband around or a band on your finger. 

He thought it was impossible; you were a catch!

Why was a sweet thing like you without a husband?

“Would you care to stay for dinner my dear?” Alastor asked as you got up ready to go home. You had came over to give him a fruit basket, a welcome gift as you were his neighbor.

You looked at the time surprised at how long you had stayed chatting.

”Oh Al i would hate to intrude and its past this one’s bedtime” you said gesturing to the child, who had fell asleep in your arms.

Alastor hummed. He had grown quite attached to you and the little one, he had hoped you would take his invitation and stay the night.

Soon. 

You gave him a soft smile and went home.

Alastor was the most eligible bachelor in town. All the ladies swooned after him, though he never cared for the attention, but it was different with you.

He went about his evening routine when the sound of shouting could be heard.

interesting.

From the window of his kitchen, he had a perfect view into your home.

A man was standing in your living room, hands moving animatedly.

He scowled. Ah that must be your estranged husband.

You had told Alastor a bit about the man you were married to and how much of a bastard he was.

You were frowning and standing between him and your child.

The man advanced and Alastor thought to go over but to his surprise you gestured for the child to go to their room and got in the man’s face.

The two of you exchanged words and the man raised his hand and hit you. You stumbled back, seemingly shock and looked at him with disbelief and something else.

You grabbed a nearby by lamp and smashed it against his head. The man went down and you jumped on top of him, slamming the lamp down over and over until you stood back up and there was blood on your clothes.

You covered your mouth, panic set in and you ran from the room.

Alastor’s lips turned into a smile and he made his way over.

He knocked at the door, basically bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement.

You opened the door, now cleaned “A-Al? What are you-”

He feigned concern “Heard a ruckus and came to make sure you and the tot were ok” You looked back into the house and then back at him.

”We-we’re ok” you whispered.

His brows quirked, head tilting “You sure Cher?”

You bit at your lip before opening the door to let him in.

Alastor’s eyes landed on the battered body of your husband and turned to you.

You were obviously distressed “Al he-he threatened me and then hit me and I didn’t know what else to do” you approached him,  almost pleading

”Please don’t report me. Pretend you saw nothing and keep. This between us”

Alastor approached the body. He nugded it with his shoe and smiled “Oh my dear I would never.  In fact, why not leave this mess to me hm? You look worn for wear ”

You nodded and sat on your couch and had a meltdown.

You just killed a man.

Your husband.

But you had no choice.

———————————————————————————-

“So you’re telling me that you been with Smiles ever since” Angel asked shocked.

You smiled “I mean it ain’t every day a man takes care of your dead body. I knew from that moment that he was the one for me”

After the death of your husband, you and Alastor started seeing each other more intimately. 

He had let you in on his true identity and the bond between the two of you had grown stronger.

He was an excellent father to your child. The little tot had even started calling him daddy.

But fate was cruel and after many years you died, ending up in Hell for the murder of your husband.

You had found Alastor and reunited, he led you to the hotel, where the two of you lived as a couple.

”She’s full of surprises I assure you” a radio-like voice said and you turned to see Alastor entering the lobby with your child in tow.

Yes. Full of surprises. 

For he would have killed the man himself if you didn’t.

it was only right that you were now his

[lostloveletters]

Something Borrowed (Michael Corleone x Reader)

Summary: Michael Corleone is the last person you expect to see at your best friend Connie’s wedding, and the last thing you expect to happen upon seeing him again after so many years is spending the night together. Maybe, it'll turn into something more.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. No hate to Kay, she’s my girl, but wedding scene Michael drives me crazy🤭 She’s off living her best life elsewhere in this. Also, it was a lot of fun writing pre-everything Michael. Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Sexually explicit content involving unprotected sex. Light play fighting.

Champagne and giggles overflowed at Connie Corleone’s wedding to Carlo Rizzi. Plenty of red wine was passed around in pitchers for the old guard, of course. For you and the other women conscious of not staining the rainbow of cocktail dresses and flowing gowns that dotted the backyard, you opted for lighter fare in tall flutes that sparkled in the early autumn sun. 

Perhaps you were a bit too enthusiastic about the drink offerings, having already exchanged three empty champagne glasses for ones filled to the brim with glittering gold when the bride engulfed you in a hug. With a delighted laugh, you returned the gesture, kissing her cheek.

“I wanted to say thank you one more time for coming!” Connie exclaimed, her cheeks flushed pink from the excitement of the day. “God, it breaks my heart we couldn’t have gotten you a bridesmaid dress in time, but you look gorgeous.”

“Me? Connie, you look like a princess.”

“I feel like one,” she giggled.

“When you see your gift from me—I’m sorry it’s not more, I haven’t—”

“Stop it!” she scolded. “You came all the way from Europe just to be at my wedding. I couldn’t ask for a better friend.”

You didn’t bother correcting her. Her version of events sounded much nicer than you just got lucky with when the Red Cross put you on a boat home. “Anything for you.”

“I won’t keep you. This is probably the first time you’re eating real food in years. Mama, Sandra, and Theresa made most of it.”

Connie was right. You tried to savor your plate, packed with pasta drowned in homemade sauce, antipasto and crusty bread, and sandwiches that towered with fresh cold cuts. The Corleones knew a thing or two about good food, and had the means to pull the strings for the unfathomable ration books such a feast required.

A familiar yet unexpected voice startled you when your fork pierced a piece of mozzarella. “Is this seat taken?”

“Michael,” you practically gasped, taken aback by his even attending the wedding in the first place, but also how good he looked in his uniform. Cap tucked under his arm, medals and decorations on his chest, the photos you’d seen in the magazine didn’t do him justice. Finding yourself again, you gestured to the empty seat across from you. “Go ahead.”

“I can’t remember the last time I saw you, but you look great,” he said, his gaze fixed on you as he set his plate and glass down. He took you in, the girl he’d grown up seeing around the house and at school, now, without a doubt, a woman.

“You too, Captain,” you said, nodding toward the double bars on his uniform.

He snickered at your little joke, making you feel a bit more at ease in his presence. “I’m surprised you aren’t in the wedding party.”

“Honestly, I wasn’t even sure I was going to make it until a few days ago. I only just got back to New York on Thursday,” you said.

“You volunteered with the Red Cross, didn’t you?”

You nodded. “I was in England, and then France after the liberation.”

“Clubmobile, right?”

“Did Connie tell you?”

He shook his head, smiling the slightest bit. “All the pretty girls worked the Clubmobile.”

A mortifyingly girlish giggle escaped your lips. You quickly brought your glass to your mouth, though the champagne in it was likely the culprit of your embarrassing reaction to Michael’s compliment. Averting your eyes to the dancing guests, you tried to ignore the warmth that spread across your face.

You allowed yourself to look at him again a few moments later, relieved to find he was still sitting in front of you, amused, maybe even endeared, by you.

“You’re such a jerk, Michael,” you mumbled, only because he was your friend’s older brother, and when you were younger and starry-eyed and figuring out what it meant when your heart wouldn’t quite beat right around a boy, it was him who those tender emotions were kindled in secret toward—until you had your first real boyfriend.

He grinned at your remark, and the two of you ate and caught up in between his various family members stopping by the table to say hello. You weren’t sure what to make of his seeing you before any of them—flattered, a bit confused as well, but he laughed at your jokes and moved his seat closer to yours, so you must have been doing something right when he finally asked, “Do you want to dance?”

“I’d love to,” you said.

The chaos from Johnny Fontaine’s unexpected arrival and impromptu performance subsided when Michael led you out to dance. He held you close, the way soldiers had at the dances the Red Cross put on for servicemen, all to boost morale, or, as the war went on, to offer a break from reality. Among the many rules meant to be followed—and typically broken in one way or another in the haze of war—was to keep some emotional distance from the enlisted men, for your sake and their own, but with bodies so close together, tender touches and soft whispers over songs of twilight and moonbeams, it was tough not to be caught up in romance’s alluring snare.

Even then, with the war behind both of you, something about being in Michael’s arms made you truly understand why some girls risked their assignments for a man. There was something in how he looked at you, different from your childhood together, even from a few minutes prior. You felt breathless despite the slow song you swayed along to.

“Did you like Paris?” he asked quietly, throwing you for a loop.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Paris?”

“You were in France, weren’t you?”

“Not Paris.”

“Where in France were you slinging doughnuts, then?”

“Little villages a few miles out from the front, mostly. More cows than people, but nice enough once the fighting stopped, and it was finally quiet—as quiet as it could get, anyway,” you said. “When Connie wrote you’d been wounded, I couldn’t help but think the worst. Plenty of guys out there—well, that article sure put me at ease. All the girls were jealous when I said I knew you.” You smiled. “I’m glad you’re alright, Michael.”

He glanced at your lips, and for an aching moment you were sure he was going to kiss you, but instead he gave you a smile, one that was real and made your heart flutter nevertheless, but left you disappointed.

“Where are you staying since you’ve been back?” he asked.

He seemed familiar with the hotel you were staying in when you mentioned it, offering to drive you back after the reception ended, and Connie and Carlo left for their honeymoon. 

“It’s only until I can find a boarding hotel that has space,” you said. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be the Barbizon, but I’m not moving back in with my parents.”

“Here’s to that.”

The rest of the day and into the evening, Michael hung around you, unless he was pulled away by members of his family, each instance an annoyance to him. You knew they weren’t exactly supportive of his enlisting, but the situation couldn’t have been that bad, not since he was home, safe and sound at his sister’s wedding.

The Corleones, though endlessly kind to you, always been an odd family, and you learned through your friendship with Connie not to ask too many questions.

But Genco Abbandando was dying, and Vito insisted Michael go with the rest of the Corleone men to pay his respects to the elder. When you offered to take a cab back to your hotel, Michael promised the visit wouldn’t be long, suggesting you wait at the house with his mother until he returned to drive you into the city.

Your foolish desire to spend more time with him led to your waiting in the Corleones’ kitchen for a little over an hour, when you likely would’ve been showered and in bed in your hotel room by the time he arrived back for you, in one hell of a hurry to get you into his car and presumably get away from his family.

“Do you ever think about leaving New York?” he asked when the house was out of view.

You laughed. “Michael, I only just got back.”

“That’s not what I mean. The war—it wasn’t going to be forever, but it let you see what life could be like away from all of this, didn’t it?”

“Of course it did. I’m honestly not sure what I’m going to do with myself now,” you said. “How about you? Are you going back to school? Dartmouth, I mean.”

He nodded. “I start again the spring semester.” At a red light, he glanced over at you. “New England’s nice. Better than French cow country.”

“And do you suppose I could study in the department of pouring coffee and serving doughnuts?”

“You’re smart. I think you have a real future,” he said, the sincerity in his voice startling you. “All of that back there, that’s not for us. It never has been.”

You were silent for a few moments. “I guess you’re right.”

The city lights twinkling in the distance took the place of the stars they blocked out from the sky, growing larger as Michael crossed the bridge into Manhattan, the center of the universe. You’d never tell a soul how you cried just a few days prior upon seeing it again for the first time in years.

Besides his talk of the future, Michael kept the conversation light, and you could’ve sworn he was flirting with you. Working the Clubmobile, you learned quickly how to pick up on it, some men laying it on thick while others were irresistibly smooth. Michael could’ve easily just been teasing you, the way a friend’s older brother would, but when he pulled up to your hotel, either your ego or curiosity prompted you to invite him up for a drink.

You sobered up on the drive into the city, enough to remember you didn’t have any drinks in your room. The two of you would have to go to the hotel bar for that, but then you and Michael wouldn’t be alone, not how you wanted, anyway.

To your relief, he agreed.

With Michael in uniform, few questions would be asked by hotel staff as to why you suddenly had a man with you when you checked in on your own. It would have been easy to lie, claim he was your fiance who had only just gotten back Stateside. But you supposed you and Michael already looked the part, walking arm-in-arm through the lobby without an issue.

Your confidence soared on the elevator ride up to your modest room, which you let Michael into, knowing he wouldn’t judge the state of your accommodations.

“Mind if I make myself comfortable?” You didn’t wait for his answer, pulling your blouse from where it’d been tucked in your skirt. Slipping out of your heels, you sighed softly in relief.

“It’s your place,” he said, setting his coat over the chair in the corner and loosening his tie.

You grabbed his cap from where he set it down and placed it on your head, tilting the brim over your face a bit and posing in front of him with a hand on your hip. “How do I look?”

He sat down on the edge of the bed, giving you a once over, “I swear I saw you pinned up in some guy’s tent looking just like that.”

You laughed, taking the cap off and flinging it aside. “Oh, I don’t even know why I invited you up here!” Your laughter faded as something in your stomach turned sour, the situation feeling achingly too good to be true. Alone in a hotel room with Michael, the two of you entirely capable of making your own mistakes on the off chance he wanted you too. “Or why you even agreed to come up.”

“I didn’t come up here to drink.”

“No, you did it to be nice, because we’ve known each other for so long…” You sighed, sitting next to him. “I always figured you thought of me as your kid sister’s annoying little friend or something.”

He shook his head, saying your name softly in either protest or reassurance. His hand cupped your face as he turned it toward him, his thumb rubbing soft circles in your cheek. “Not for a long time. Especially not tonight.”

You kissed him, hands gripping his shoulders, closing your eyes as you melted in his embrace. Your skin feverish at his touch, you shuddered when his hand slipped up your untucked blouse until his fingertips reached your bra.

To say you hadn’t fantasized about Michael would have been an unconvincing lie to anyone who dared ask, but even in your wildest dreams, it was never quite like this, so bold and irreverent in the face of the tradition the two of you had just spent the day celebrating.

“I came up here because you’re beautiful,” he confessed against your lips, “because you’re the only familiar face I saw at my sister’s wedding that didn’t make me wish I were somewhere else.”

Silencing him with another kiss, your fingers raked through his soft black hair as your body pressed flush against his, unsure if you could withstand hearing more of his tender words without falling to pieces. You couldn’t, not so early in the night, but his desire grew difficult to ignore when he pulled you onto his lap. The pressure against your pussy made you moan, and with a hasty desperation, you shimmied out of your panties as he unbuckled his belt, freeing his hard cock within a few moments.

You slipped a hand between the two of you, pumping his length, feeling the way it twitched at your touch and gasping when Michael’s hips bucked. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, a whisper of an intent to devour you.

“I need you, sweetheart,” he groaned. “Need to feel you.”

Lifting your hips, you whimpered upon feeling his head brush your clit as you positioned yourself, slowly lowering as he filled you, cock throbbing against your walls that clenched around him. He assuaged the pain of taking all of him with a gentle kiss and soft praises, urging you to take your time, that you had all night together.

All night. The promise he would stay, at least until the morning, sent a teasing wave of pleasure through you. Gripping his shoulders, you tried to keep a steady pace as you rode him, wanted to show him that staying would be worth his while. He’d been right in the car, you wouldn’t be a virginal, wedding white bride. The both of you had seen and experienced too much to be considered innocent any longer, but it was something you shared, that no one else from that day would have understood.

Your thighs ached as you neared your climax, desperately chasing it despite the exhaustion that was creeping up on you. Crying out in frustration, you buried your face in the crook of Michael’s neck.

“I’m close,” you whined. “Michael, I—”

“I’ve got you,” he assured you, his hands making their home on your hips. 

Your eyes fluttered shut as you let him guide your body, his thrusts doing most of the work while you rocked against him, seeking the friction against your clit that would bring you to release. It caught in your throat, a broken groan from your lips to his ears as you came, clenching around him, pleasure rolling through you, rattling your body like thunder. You barely caught your breath when he came, shuddering against you, practically cradling you against him as he filled you.

With a whimper, you lifted yourself off of him and rolled back onto the bed. Placing your hand on your chest, you felt your rapidly beating heart beneath your fingertips, focusing on it as it slowed the following minute or so and ignoring the stickiness between your legs, the evidence you slept with your best friend’s older brother. 

Michael leaned over, brushing back the hair that stuck to your face. “What are your plans tomorrow?”

“Looking through the classifieds for a job,” you said honestly.

“Wanna put it off for a day?”

“With what money, Michael?”

“I’ll give you a line of credit.”

You grabbed one of the pillows from behind you, throwing it at him with a laugh. “Jerk!”

He grinned, pushing it aside to grab for one of your arms. You put up a weak fight, your breathless laughter giving away his almost certain win.

Having pinned you down beneath him, he pressed you for an answer. “So?” He kissed you. “What do you say, sweetheart?”

You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself. “I guess I can clear my schedule for a dashing war hero like you.”

“Dashing, I like the sound of that,” he murmured, bringing his lips to yours again, softly, with a tenderness that promised more for tomorrow, and even the day after, if you’d have him. 

You smiled. “Me too.”

[penkura]

Christmas Gift

Summary: You and Zoro exchange your Christmas gifts for each other.

Note: I had to write Zoro of course, and this ended up being a little more self indulgent than I originally planned lol. But I hope you guys enjoy it. :)

Christmas with Zoro has always been your favorite time of year. Of course your birthdays are fun, but the holiday season makes things feel different when you two exchange gifts. He always acts like it’s a pain but the gifts Zoro has given you are always appreciated and more thoughtful than you expect, especially from someone who says it’s annoying to go shopping.

Your favorite thing each year is to see how flustered you can make your boyfriend. Even though you’ve been together for several years, Zoro never expects anything much from you, yet you always outdo yourself and cause him to feel like his gifts aren’t as good.

They always are to you, but Zoro still feels like you do better with the whole gift giving thing.

It's no different this year, when you two meet up once again, though it’s the last year you’ll be doing this as a dating couple since you’ll be getting married next year, as long as everything works out.

The earrings Zoro gives you this year match the three he wears, it’s the first time he’s giving you something like this (ignoring your engagement ring), but you love them all the same. He almost forced you to open your gift first, it was that important to him this year, for the two of you to match like that. You were so excited to see them that you hugged Zoro briefly before running off to the bathroom to put them in with a grin, making him roll his eyes with a smirk before he follows you.

“Figured you’d want a set since you got that third piercing.”

“Of course I did! That’s part of the whole reason I wanted them!”

Once you’ve gotten the earrings on and checked them out, you turn around and hug Zoro again, which he returns.

“You’re the best~ I love you~”

“Yeah, yeah,” he might roll his eyes again, but there’s a real smile there, “Its just some earrings, nothing that special.”

“But they’re special to me since we match now!” you pout while Zoro laughs, before you remember, “Oh!! You need to open your gift, Zoro!”

He tries to stop you when you grab his hand and drag him back to the living room, but doesn’t fight you on it. Zoro let’s you take him back and make him sit on the couch before you drop the gift bag in his lap.

“Now your turn!”

Zoro really does hate the whole gift giving thing, but the excited nervousness you have every time is cute. You’re always hopeful yet anxious that he’ll like the gift you’ve picked out for him, this year is no exception. You keep watching while he pulls the tissue paper out and eventually the gift, giving you a slightly confused look before you start to explain.

“So, you never wear a hat or gloves when it’s cold—”

“I don’t need them.”

“—but,” you let out a sigh but still smile, “I thought maybe a scarf wouldn’t be a problem, so I made you one.”

Really he’s surprised you haven’t made him anything like this until now, though he should’ve expected it by now, especially with how badly cold it’s gotten.

It’s a very simple scarf, he’s not sure about if it’s crochet or knitting since he’s not good at telling the difference, but you found what seems to be the perfect mossy green yarn and included black in it. Nothing fancy or intricate, you were probably worried the whole time you made if he’d even wear it anyway.

You’re still nervous obviously, starting to bite your lip because you think Zoro doesn’t like it, until he finally puts it on, causing you to grin once again when he looks at you.

“Well?”

“Hmm,” there’s no problem with the colors, you made sure of that, but you do adjust the scarf to where it’s wrapped around his neck once, “Now it’s perfect!”

Zoro throws an arm around your shoulders and pulls you against him, kissing your head and making you giggle at him.

“Thank you, I do like it.”

“Good! …will you wear it to my parents’ house tomorrow??”

“Seriously?”

“Please???”

You might have to promise him several things to get him to wear the scarf the next day, but Zoro does agree to it eventually. Giving gifts and having to deal with your parents talking to him all day is still a pain, he’s only willing to deal with that part of the holidays because it’s you.

[darkstaria]

Yandere Superfam - Happy Father's Day!

It was Father's day semi recently, so I wrote this. Note: it is very important to me that every one who reads this understands that I didn't actually write this on Father's Day. I swear!

Oh, and I updated the soul animal au Taglist again, so hopefully I got everyone!

----

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead!" A voice sung to you, dragging you from the depths of oblivion you found solace in. The sound of opening curtains cut into you like a knife.

"Mmmghhh..." You attempted, keeping your eyes firmly closed against the rising sun blaring into your eyeballs. Couldn't he just go away? You stared blearily. Clark Kent, or rather, Superman was smiling, a beaming ray that burnt into you.

"Come on now, Sunshine. It's Father's Day! Aren't you excited to spend it with your dad?"

No, is what you wanted to say. But you bit the comment down as you often did. It never helped, not with Bruce, not with Clark. How unfair.

"You couldn't have let me sleep for a little longer?" You tried, almost whining. First they use ‘medicine’ to get you to sleep, then they force you to wake up early.

"Sorry but that won't be happening. We only have limited time with you today! We have to enjoy as much time together as we can before you go to Bruce's." He looked apologetic, but you doubted it. He never truly was.

Your life with Superman was an endless spiral of apologies, a litany of white lies hidden by a brilliant smile. A sun that shone so brightly, you almost forgot the burns.

You gave a little sigh, but acknowledged the futility of your actions. A few years of this and you let go of resisting the little things. It made things easier.

You got out of your bed, doing your best to ignore the fervent eyes that traced your every movement. You reached under your bed, pulling out his present from under your bed. It wasn't much of a hiding space, given that it was known by every person that lived in the house, but you appreciated that they let you have little things like this. Or pretended to, anyways.

“Here you go.” You thrust the present towards him, wanting to get it over with.

“That’s Bruce’s present.” He replied, with a slight smirk.

“Eh.. how?” You mumbled, looking down. “You peaked, didn't you!”

“No I didn't not. I just know the difference between your wrapping, and Alfred’s wrapping.”

You glanced down, noticing the immaculately decorated and wrapped present in your grasp. Whoops.

With a swift movement, you reached under your bed and grasped the other present, exchanging the two with a quick action. There was a visible difference in the two, Clark’s being much more shoddily wrapped.

“Forget about that.” You demanded. Trying to get him to ignore it, you pushed his actual present in his direction.

“Woah, hold on there.” He smiled. “Jon’s been waiting downstairs to give me his present too, you two have to do it together, remember.” He patted you on the back. “Come on!”

With your frustrated affirmation, the two of you went downstairs, immediately meeting the excited gazes of both Lois and Jon. Jon in particular was bouncing in his seat, clutching onto a bunch of gifts.

“Happy Father’s day!” He shouted, a beaming smile on his face. Clark chucked, patting Jon’s hair.

“Thank you Jon.” The two began a conversation about Jon’s gifts, and you swiftly became bored. Your eyes strayed away from the table, until you accidentally locked eyes with Lois. She smiled at you, a soft image of happiness. She was definitely the most subtle of the family. It even took you a few escape attempts before you realised she wasn't your ally. After that it became difficult to see her the same way.

“And what about you, sunshine?” A hand ruffled your hair, Clark interrupting your musings with a single gesture. You bit back a flinch.

“Ah yeah, this is my present… Dad.” You attempted to sound jovial. Judging by the smile on his face it had worked, but you weren't entirely sure if that was a result of your actions skills or his delusions.

“Thank you! Let’s see what you've made this year.” Clark took no time in unwrapping the gift. “Ah, another mug, and just look at this drawing, you get more creative every time.” He beamed. You felt like living in this household half the time entitled you to sunglasses.

Your gift wasn't anything fancy, just a simple mug with a terribly drawn face on it. The words ‘happy dad’ were written under the face, in sloppy handwriting.

Clark walked over to a cabinet, opening it up. In the cabinet lay another mug, this one lacking any drawing at all. Instead, it had the name Clark written on and drawn out, and the word Dad swiftly smudged on instead.

That mug was actually one of Clark’s old mugs, you had just stolen it upon learning that they had actually expected a gift from you on Father’s Day. You originally wrote Clark down, but soon realised that would be a mistake, crossing it out and writing Dad. Somehow, he loved it.

In all honesty, you couldn't complain. If you set the bar this low, you could easily up it the next year without having to put in much effort. As long as you were ‘creative’ Clark accepted anything, if it was from you. Maybe next year your mug drawing would be two drawings, instead of one. You dreaded the time when you'd eventually have to put actual effort into gifts. Surely, you'd have escaped before then.

“Come on kids!” Clark called out, drawing your attention back to him. “Let’s enjoy today as much as we can, before Sunshine has to go to Wayne Manor later.”

Jon pouted. “Do they really have to go? They went last year too. They already spent half their time at Wayne Manor as is.” He grumbled. Jon was more obvious in his possessiveness, something that occasionally ruffled the feathers of the Batfam. The tug of war between Jon and Damian was far too frequent, the memory of it making your shoulders ache a little.

“Now now Jon. Bruce is Sunshine’s father just as much as I am.”

Considering neither of them were your father, his statement was a little infuriating.

“What game are we going to play this time?” Your question was both an act of masochism and genuine interest. Feigning injuries never worked against two superhumans who could look into your very bone structure. Instead, you had come to find some enjoyment in watching Clark and Jon bumble about, trying to play fair in a competitive game wherein they viewed you as both weaker and fragile. It was actually a great method for venting your anger, as long as you weren't too overt about it.

If you accidentally hit them with a hockey stick a few times, or aimed a basketball to their face a little too much, it wasn't your fault! It's not like they could feel it anyway.

“It'll be tennis today.” Clark declared, receiving an excited Ooh in response from Jon.

Ah, tennis. A little harder to use, but very much still workable. If it was golf you'd be screwed.

Oh, wait but..

“How are we playing tennis with three people?” You questioned. Lois tended to stay out of your games, preferring to watch.

“I'll play against you and Jon. If any of Bruce’s family show up early again, then one of them can join in too.” Clark spoke cheerfully, but you knew it always bothered him a bit when they arrived too soon.

Clark and Bruce’s ‘shared custody’ of you wasn't always so amicable. At one point it was downright violent. Honestly if it weren't for the effects their efforts were having on you they'd have probably escalated into a war. They had come to an agreement since, but it always bothered them whenever it was infringed on in some form.

“Time to get going Sunshine! Jon’s already waiting for you!” An abrupt push to your back jolted you forward, giving you a small jump of shock. Ugh. You glared at Superman as he responded to your surprise with good natured laughter.

You slowly walked out into the field, Jon handing you a tennis racket, his smile gleaming like the sun.

You could only hope that Batman was a little calmer on Father’s Day.

[emeritusemeritus]

hi hun, i have a story idea for you, reader and fred weasley if that's alright. reader is pregnant and is due to have her baby on new year's eve but she goes into early labour alone after an argument with fred and gives birth on christmas eve just as fred arrives to make up with her⁷

Hi Anon! Wow when I tell you this has consumed me for days, it’s taken so long to write but I just couldn’t stop! Side note, the name of Fred and Reader’s child is a name I’ve loved since I was a kid and finally got to use it in a fic where it fit perfectly. Hope you enjoy! 🖤

Warnings: pregnancy and childbirth. Graphic descriptions of pain and labour but not of actual birth. Fast labour, precipitous labour. Reader has the pregnancy emotions. arguments and shouting, minor swearing. Reader hits Fred in the arm. Molly Weasley being the OG midwife. I may have some unresolved birth trauma of my own apparently. Happy ending I promise. Not beta read or spell checked.

Word count: 5.5k

Hark now hear the angels sing [Fred Weasley]

"And... that is the last one, we are officially ready for Christmas!"

You beam as you turn towards Fred, having tied the last bow on the last gift you had to wrap. You look at the pile of gifts and smile, partially because it meant that you no longer had to wrap a single other thing but mostly because it was a stack of gifts for your loved ones. You'd be going to the Burrow tomorrow for Christmas Eve to spend a big family Christmas back at the Weasley home and had made sure that not a single person would be missed in the gift exchange.

It was December 23rd and you couldn't be more excited for the holidays. It had snowed overnight making everything seem so much more magical and it would be the last Christmas as a couple before the little one arrived.

With one final proud look towards your pile, you gather the scissors and tape into the little bag to store them and tried to stand up from your place on the floor, realising quickly that it probably wasn't the best idea to wrap the gifts on the floor at 39 weeks pregnant. You wince at the sharp pain that runs down the length of your back at any form of movement and momentarily swallow your pride as you call out your husband.

"Little help?" You asked Fred who was sat on the sofa in your little home, tinkering with a string of lights that just didn't seem to want to work. He looks up and starts chuckling at your pathetic attempts at getting up and stretches his hand out for you to take. He lifts you with ease, something you're very impressed by factoring in your current size and giggle when he places a delicate kiss onto your nose. His hand wraps around your waist, his palm pressed against the curve of your belly with his thumb stroking the stretched skin through your T-shirt.

"Did we wrap anything for Fred jr?" He asks, smirking at you with those mischief filled eyes that you love so much.

"No. Mainly because there is, and will be, no such person."

"Oh come on sweetheart, don't you want a tiny little me running around?" His eyebrows jump up and down for effect, fingers still lovingly stroking your bump.

"I'm hoping for a George," you deadpan, breaking into a laugh when he suddenly pulls you gently towards him by tickling your side. "Anyway, she's a girl."

"Oh yeah? Mother's intuition?" Fred teases, his eyes gazing over your bump as if he's trying to see something that's not there, like an obvious clue of what gender your baby will be.

"Something like that," you smile, reaching up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his smiling lips.

Suddenly, you pull away from Fred with a brief push to his chest, showing your panicked face and the tears that are starting to well in your eyes, all glimmer of happiness gone.

"Princ-."

"I didn't get her anything!" You suddenly cry out, cutting Fred off as he notices the rather sudden change in your demeanour, your voice trembling as the feeling of complete grief consumes you. "What if she comes early and we didn't get her anything? She'll think that we don't love her! Or she'll think that Santa forgot her!"

Tears are streaming down your face now, your breaths coming quicker and quicker as guilt and shame fill your mind. What kind of mother doesn't buy her own baby a Christmas gift?

"Between the cot, the pram and the clothes we've bought for them, plus not to mention the entire house we bought after finding out they were on the way, I'd say they've had enough."

The glare that you shoot at Fred is enough to silence him instantly, the venomous look in your eyes rivalling his own mothers as he quickly realised this is not a time to make jokes.

"This little one isn't due until after Christmas," he says with a much gentler tone now, placing his hand back onto your bump. "They don't need a Christmas present, they'll already have everything they need when they pop out." He regrets his choice of words the second your eyes shoot up to his, knowing that 'pop' made it sound like an easy thing to do, which he'd been warned from almost every female member of his family that it was far from easy.

"When our baby's born," he says, trying again. "They'll have me and their beautiful mummy. And a whole family that loves them, what else could they need?"

Surprisingly, his words do offer comfort and a wave of relief washes over you as you feel calmed by the idea that the baby really did have everything they would need.

"Sorry," you say, feeling a fresh wave of shame taking over you at your slight overreaction, but Fred steps in again to give you a tight squeeze.

"Already the best mum," he whispers, rocking you gently as you stand holding each other, the Christmas lights illuminating the room in a magical display. You feel a little wiggle in your tummy and smile to yourself, your hand slipping down to cradle the spot where you could feel your little one stretching and rolling.

Everything was set for your arrival at the Burrow in the morning, the suitcase was packed with a mixture of your clothes and Fred's, everything down to your spare toothbrush. The gifts were wrapped and the cookies you'd baked earlier that mornings had been placed into a cute metal tin with a bow, placed on the table beside the front door so that you wouldn't forget them.

"Want me to load the car now?" Fred asks, poking his head around the bedroom door.

"I can help," you offer, only to be shut down a moment later by your husband.

"You will do not such thing," he says firmly, though his eyes are soft. "You are going to park your gorgeous little bum down onto the nearest, softest surface and rest."

"But."

"Doctor's orders princess," he winks, making you smile and relent, though you were hardly going to turn down the offer of sitting down for a while before bed, knowing you'd have an early start in the morning. Your back was twinging with discomfort, a crampy feeling radiating between your pelvis and your hips that made you curse yourself for the stupid idea of wrapping presents on a hard floor.

You walked downstairs to grab a warm drink and sit on the sofa with the hope of a warm fire and a Christmas film, stopping to peek out of the Christmas light filled window to watch Fred trying to fit all the presents in the boot of the car. Since you were so far into your pregnancy, almost every magical transportation option was now deemed unsafe, leaving you with only a handful of options for reaching the Burrow. Percy had very graciously secured a ministry car for you to borrow over the holidays, a fact that he was insistent upon repeating whenever it was even vaguely mentioned in conversation, including the precarious nature of securing the car during the ministry's busiest season. Regardless of your brother in laws self importance, you were thankful for his gesture and though the drive would be long, you were actually looking forward to it. You'd prepped snacks, both muggle and magical, had ensured to the point of obsession that the radio was fixed upon the muggle Christmas station so that your entire drive down would be filled with only the cheesiest Christmas songs and you'd even prepped some hot chocolate for the drive, placing two matching Christmas travel cups beside the kettle ready to make just before you left.

A loud crash pulled your attention right back to Fred as you watched him scrambling onto his feet, an array of once neatly wrapped packages on the floor around him. He looks around nervously before catching sight of you in the window, eyes widening, before he attempts to pick up the dropped presents.

Instantly you were moving to the door, your mind spiralling at the idea that they might be broken or wet from the snow, or if Fred was hurt in the skirmish.

"Are you okay?" You ask slightly breathlessly as you scramble to the door, trying to place your shoes on as quickly as you could.

"Sweetheart stay inside, it's icy and you're not coming out here until I can clear it," he says holding up a hand, eyes fixed on your bump as if you accentuate his words.

"What happened?" You ask, trying to steal a glance around his body to look for any damage to the presents that he was slowly picking up, stacking them high in his arms as he attempts to talk to you through a vision blocking stack of presents.

"Well I was trying to balance these ones and the bottom one slipped."

"You can't stack that many! No wonder they bloody fell!" You say, anger simmering under the surface as you watch more and more presents dangerously wobbling in his arms, swaying with the wind and from every movement he makes. "Stop stacking them so high."

"I can do it."

"Obviously you can't!" You snap, feeling the anger rising now from his obvious lack of care to the gifts that you had so painstakingly picked out and wrapped. "What if they're all broken?!"

"They're not all broken," he snarks.

"All? You mean there's broken ones?!" You exclaim, hardly able to push down your anger anymore. You and Fred hardly every argued, but when you did it was almost always a big one that lasted no more than five minutes before you were making up, sometimes longer if he was in the mood to sulk. Uncaring about the ice, you step outside and rush over to the back of the car where Fred continues to pick up the last of the presents from the ground, cringing at what follows when he picks up the very last one.

The telltale sound of damaged box fills your ears at a painfully ironic moment, the sound so obviously being something broken, shattered with the pieces rattling about inside. You gasp as you look upon the misshapen box, seeing the distinctive green wrapping paper all torn and wilted from the snow, knowing instantly what was inside, undoubtedly shattered beyond repair.

You're completely heartbroken at the sight before you and more angry with Fred than you ever remember being.

"You stupid git!" You say, hitting his arm as he turns to you with a look of apologetic shame, though you don't even remotely fall for it, too enraged to give a single thought to his feelings. "I told you that you couldn't carry that many! Now look what you've done!" The box falls from his hands again and lands in a heap on the floor, an ominous rattling crying out all the way down until it crashes upon making contact with the snow.

"It's just a present," he mumbles, trying to downplay the situation as he turns back towards the car, away from your body. His words and aversion to the situation only fuel your anger in the moment, seeing visions of his younger self so uncaring for the consequences of his actions even if it both directly and indirectly affected others.

"It's not just a present you git! It was Fleur's only Christmas present! You have no idea how long it took me to find it," you say, tears welling up in your eyes again as the anger turns to sorrow.'you knew how much she adored snow-globes, something from her childhood that she'd told you about in great detail one night at the Burrow. You'd gone searching around muggle antique stores for something within the brief and had been completely overwhelmed by the beauty of the snowglobe you found for her. It was a little over the budget but you didn't care, knowing how much she would love the beautifully ornate pink and gold filigree on the side, the tiny carousel horses inside that spun around with fine gold glitter covering the beautiful scene. It was decadent and beautiful, and now shattered in a box on your front drive, the glittery water leaking out of a large crack in the box and onto the snow.

"Just give her one of Ginny's," he says defensively, the hint of a shrug ghosting his coat-covered shoulders.

"Oh yeah perfect, because I'm sure she'd love a mug that says Mrs Potter to be!"

You march away from him in a foul mood, stomping your way back into the house as you close the door with a resounding slam, the wreath on the door quivering with the force.

It was the evening before Christmas Eve, you didn't have anything else to give her and you certainly couldn't show up empty handed for only one person, especially one that had become a good friend to you and who had admittedly struggled to fit in with the family at first. You felt wretched and suddenly wanted to stay at home, the idea of going to the Burrow now making you feel physically sick.

You winced as the pain in your back suddenly increased, making you grab ahold of the table beside the door for support as you felt it radiate through your back and settle into your pelvis.

"Look, why don't we just drop by somewhere on the way to mums? See if we can get a replacement." Fred says as he steps through the door, inevitably trailing snow throughout the hallway. You straighten up, recovering from the cramps and turn to him in disbelief, fresh annoyance consuming you again.

"It can't be replaced it was antique!"

"Well something similar then," he mumbles. You don't even fight his words, realising that he didn't have any semblance of idea of how hard you'd worked to make everything perfect for Christmas.

"You haven't even apologised," you huff, kicking off your shoes and wandering towards the kitchen, cringing at the pain that still remains in your lower back.

"What for?!" He asks, sounding mystified. "Hardly my fault I slipped, ice is icy funnily enough."

"Oh piss off Fred, you know it wasn't the ice," you spit out, reaching for a mug as you flick the kettle on again.

"I've had enough of this," he says angrily, marching right back out of the hall towards the front door that slams shut behind him. The silence that follows is almost suffocating as you stand looking at the place he stood only moments before.

The tears flowed freely now, though the gut wrenching sobs had stopped eventually. It had been around half an hour since your argument with Fred when you walked over to the door to attempt to reconcile, not wanting the stupid argument to ruin the last night in your home before tomorrows journey. It was getting late and you wanted to go to bed, exhausted both physically and emotionally and knew that stopping off somewhere tomorrow for a replacement gift for Fleur would only make your wake up call earlier. You sucked in a sharp breath when you stood up from the sofa, feeling a sharp pain shoot right up your pelvis and down your leg right to your toes, the cramping immediately resuming. You let out a few steady breaths and grabbed hold of your bump as if to help calm the pain and waddled towards the door.

When you saw that the car was no longer outside, with no sign of Fred anywhere and only tyre marks in the snow as proof, you knew instantly that he had left. Tears began to prickle at your eyes and you closed the door slowly with a weak shove, the tears coming once again. Fred had never left during an argument, had never just upped and decided to flee. You felt miserably guilty for your overreaction, even if it did seem deserved, and wished more than anything that you could just fix it and go to bed.

You went to make another cup of tea, needing the warmth and the comfort from the drink, the fire having long since died and the room feeling uncommonly chilly. A sharp pain suddenly radiated through your lower abdomen, like a crushing pain that tightened around your hips like a belt that was too small and you gasped, clutching hold of the counter as you waited for it to disappear. During your scramble to reach out for something solid to rest upon, the mug had been knocked to the side and you watched as your favourite mug tumbled to the floor, splintering at your feet into little ceramic shards.

The pain was increasing rather than disappearing and you felt the tightness all over your bump now. When it finally began to abate after a few seconds, your legs felt wobbly and you felt shaken, heart pounding and breathing unsteady as you tried to calm yourself. You barely managed to make it over to the sofa when the pain started again, radiating through your body with increasing intensity that felt like a wave slow building until it crashed upon the sand. You gripped the arm of the sofa as the apex of the pain consumed your body again, this time lasting even longer than before.

When the pain peaked, forcing you onto your hands and knees on the floor in front of the sofa, you realised with a sheer sense of panic that you were completely alone. You couldn't use the floo, couldn't apparate and now you also had no car to get you anywhere or to anyone. Your owl was delivering a message to the Burrow and still hadn't returned, clearly having flown to Wheezes instead, leaving you owl-less. You took long steady breaths when you could, relishing in the few moments of relief that came between your pains. It couldn't be labour, it just couldn't, even though logically you knew that it was more than possible as babies came when they were ready, not when you wanted them to.

You sighed when you felt another wave of pain starting in your extremities, rapidly increasing to a crushing pain around you back and in your last parts. The pain made you breathless and you could hardly believe how quickly things had escalated as you knelt on the floor trying to keep yourself calm but failing miserably in the middle of what you absolutely would not believe, but logically knew, was labour. You choked on a sob when you thought of Fred, that he'd left you at your most vulnerable time, that he'd miss the birth of your child and that you'd have to do this all alone. The plans you'd made for your birth were now completed ruined and you would no longer have the support of Molly, who had been overjoyed at being asked to support you. She was more than just your mother-in-law and after birthing seven children, there was no one else you trusted to guide you through labour. But now completely alone and trapped at home, would you survive? Women died in childbirth all the time, especially when birthing alone. What if the baby didn't survive? What if the cord was around their neck and you didn't know?

Almost like a switch had gone off in your mind, you focused on the task at hand, pushing all fear inducting thoughts out of your head and focused instead of what would be needed if you were going to do this alone. Warm towels, water, somewhere comfy for you to labour, somewhere warm and soft for the baby, baby clothes and a multitude of blankets. You looked towards the stairs and took a deep breath, trying your hardest to time yourself so that in the brief moments of reprieve you could climb the stairs to fetch what you'd need.

It took much longer than expected to collect everything you'd need, having to stop multiple times to cling onto the nearest surface and ride out the wave of pain that you could tell was getting worse and closer together. You'd barely made it down the stairs when another wave of pain hit you, making you stumble down the last step. You cried out at the searing pain that shot through you at the inadvertent step you'd taken, a lighting bolt of agony coursing through your pelvis, around your bump and settling deep in your groin. Your breath was shaky as you tried to recover from the pain but it didn't wane this time and instead focused purely in the centre of your pelvis. You notice by chance that it's past midnight now, the jingle of the little Christmas-themed muggle clock taunting you as to the announcement of a new day. Christmas Eve and you were alone, left to give birth entirely alone.

It takes everything you gave no to cry out, focusing instead on taking deep breaths and emitting a low groan as a way of vocalising your pain. You eventually make it back to the sofa, surrounded by all the things you'd need and allow yourself a little sob as you look at the equipment surrounding you, like an ominous scene of foreboding. Whatever motivation and strength you had previously momentarily slipped away and you allowed yourself to cry, both for the unrelenting pain and for your heartbreaking situation.

You let out another cry when a pain much stronger and more direct than before hits you full on, a crushing feeling from the inside that makes you feel lightheaded. You scramble to look down when you suddenly feel something wet beneath you, bringing your hand up to your legs to try and decipher what had caused it. You fight through another pain to pry off your wet bottoms and cast them aside, praying that you don't see any blood between your thighs. It's clear, the liquid that drips down your thighs, small sudden gushes turning to small drops as you battle to get a towel underneath you.

You're on all fours again, trying your hardest to take stabilising breaths when you hear the sound of the front door open.

"Fred!" You cry out in hope and desperation, the wail that falls from your lips an accumulation of the physical and emotional pain. It's the scream that you had wanted so desperately to let out as your body burns internally.

He's beside you in seconds and couldn't have been quicker if he'd apparated between the door and the living room. Your head falls forward as another contraction takes over, the sudden need to push consuming every instinct within you.

"I'm here sweetheart, I'm here it's okay," he coos, his hand instinctively reaching for your lower back as you circle your hips, trying desperately to bring relief.

You look up into his eyes and can see that he looks completely torn, eyes washing over your form as his mind whirls trying to formulate a plan. He looks completely overwhelmed under the surface, as much as he's pretending to be calm, panicked by the sudden chance in circumstances.

"Look sweetheart, I need to fetch mum, I'll be back in five minutes tops, I'll apparate right there and right back, can you handle that?"

He barely gets the words out before you scramble to reach out for him, clutching the bottom of his shirt desperately as you cringe from the movement of your torso.

"No please Freddie, please don't leave me alone again," you beg, already crying from the thought alone as you cling into him, tears streaming down your face. You're terrified of being alone again, desperate for him to stay by your side. You're scared and in pain, unable to think clearly.

"I won't leave," he says with a nod, trying to calm you, his brows knitting together as he tries to think of a backup. It's too late to drive you to St Mungo's and there's no way to side along apparate with you safely, especially now that labour had begun.

He does the only thing he can think of and pulls out his wand to cast his patronus, watching with a dwindling sense of hope that it would reach its destination quickly.

He pockets his wand again and turns his full attention back to you, trying to push some pressure into your back to relieve the pain in anyway he can, gently reminding you to take slow and deep breaths. There's so much that he needs to say to you, to apologise for, but that can wait until later, knowing that his focus had to be on you right now.

"Fred I need to push," you say with staggered breaths, a thin sheet of sweat covering your forehead.

"I know sweetheart, just a couple more minutes okay?" He says, still squatting down beside you. He prays to Merlin and to anyone else that might be listening for this to go well, for his patronus to have worked and failing that, for it to be an easy birth. He wasn't prepared for this, just a prankster turned businessman that had no knowledge of women's bodies beyond putting the baby there... getting it out was a completely different matter. 

"That's it sweetheart, you are doing so well, I'm so proud of you," he says, pushing back your hair that had stuck to your sweaty head, reaching for one of the little hand towels towels and enchanting it so that it was wet and cool before rubbing it softly over your forehead. You moan out and he hardly knows if it's because of the cooling sensation or because of the pain, but when you pull his washcloth holding hand back up to your forehead, he's pretty sure he has an idea.

"You are so strong princess, you're doing so well," he coos, trying his hardest to support you in your time of need. Truthfully, he was baffled how your body was doing this. You looked like you were in excruciating pain but yet you still carried on for the sake of the baby, your strength and resilience astounding him.

He jolts when he hears the telltale roar of flames in the fireplace and his heart leaps at the thought, had his patronus worked?

"Where is my, oh my dear!" Molly Weasley steps out of the floo induced flames of their fireplace and directly into the living room, giving herself a good shake as she spots her daughter in law on all fours in obvious labour. She pulls out her wand and casts a spell over herself that cleans off any sign of fireplace soot, then blasts the fireplace so that the regular flames resume to heat the home.

"Oh my dear," she rushes over, moving to kneel beside her daughter in law whose face scrunched up in pain, a silent scream of anguish falling from her lips.

"You should have got me sooner!" She points an accusing finger at her son who looks equal parts guilty and mortified as she strikes your hair out of your face, her eyes flicking between concern and anger between the two of you.

"I... I told him it wouldn't be yet," you stammer, hardly able to form the words. "I need to push!"

"Fred make yourself useful! Just like your father sat idly about, fetch some more towels and pillows from the bed, honestly you men." Molly surges into caring mode and for once Fred does exactly as she says without any backchat or hesitation. Her very presence is reassuring to you and you feel instantly calmed just by having her by your side.

"Well I have to say it, you do make beautiful babies," Molly coos as she looks at the three of you huddled together on the bed. Fred looks tired but peaceful, his arm wrapped protectively around you as your new baby stays latched on to your breast, bundled in soft blankets that her grandma had knitted especially for her. You're exhausted but overwhelmingly happy, and perhaps a little bit shocked by how quickly everything had progressed throughout the day and night.

"Right I'm off, as long as you're all okay? Oh I can't wait to tell your father he'll be overjoyed! I'm only an owl away if you need anything and I mean that, yes?"

"Thank you, for allowing me to experience this. I have a feeling this little one will be my favourite yet," Molly smiles as she leans down to glide her fingers across the little one's cheek lovingly. She looks up to you and smiles warmly, leaning down to give you a kiss on top of your head. "And very well done dear, you did brilliantly."

Fred walks his mother out, knowing that she had never liked apparating and would be using the floo to get home. You can hear their voices as they go downstairs but you can't hear what's being said and you look down at the cooing baby in your arms, watching her closed eyes and quick but steady breaths. She really is perfect, her little button nose, long lashes and tuft of distinctive red hair that was currently hidden beneath her little hat. 10 fingers, 10 toes and a striking resemblance to her dad that after the intense labour you'd just endured felt like a hilarous but tiny smack in the face.

When Fred returns, he's beaming. He pauses, leaning against the doorframe as he looks at the sight before him, his girls.

"How are you feeling sweetheart?" He asks, gently climbing onto the bed beside you.

"Exhausted," you say with a laugh, trying hard not to jiggle the little one too much with your laughter. "But I'm happy."

"Me too. Here, let me take her so you can get some rest."

You want to protest but you're worried your eyes will close at any second even though you're trying your hardest to keep them open, your body just too exhausted. You hand Fred the sleeping baby, passing her over gently like she could shatter at any moment from being so fragile and within moments of your head touching the pillow, you're out like a light.

"Wait till you meet your uncle George, and auntie Ginny, and uncle Percy, and Ron, and Charlie and Bill... there's a lot of them to remember I know, but it's mainly uncle George and Auntie Angelina you have to remember kid. Don't even get me started on the others, aunt Hermione, uncle Harry, auntie Fleur and then there's your granny and grandad."

"Trying to bore her back to sleep with your family tree?" You smile, noticing Fred and your little girl cuddled together in the little armchair in the corner next to her bassinet. He huffs a laugh, turning to you with so much adoration in his eyes that it momentarily leaves you breathless.

"Just getting her up to speed," he smirks, reaching down with his hand to grab her hand gently, "you going to say good morning to your beautiful mummy?" He gently manipulated her hand so that she gives you a little wave and you laugh, sitting up in bed with a slight wince.

"So I guess Fred Jr is off the table now eh?" He says with a wiggle of his eyebrows as he stands up from the chair, bringing your daughter over to you, her face a perfect picture of contentment.

"It was never on the table," you say with a smirk, greedily reaching for your daughter.

"Well you surprised us little one," Fred says to his daughter as she begins to stir. "Thought we'd be naming you something new yearsey, but you're a little Christmas Angel."

As if the concept of time and days had just returned to you, you realise that your daughter was born on Christmas Eve, your own little Christmas miracle.

"Holly?" Fred suggests, your nose scrunching up at the suggestion, not liking how obvious it was.

"What about Evangeline?" You ask, looking down at the sweet face, trying to weight up what name suited her the most. "Nickname Eve or Evie?"

"Evangeline Weasley..." Fred muses, as if trying it out for himself, "I love it." He beams, as if the missing puzzle piece has just slotted in to place.

"Merry Christmas little Evangeline," he coos, watching as she yawns, her eyes opening with a little squint as if by some miracle, answering to her name. Fred kisses you and you're happier than you've felt in a long time, the heartbreak of yesterday long forgotten and forgiven as you celebrate your first Christmas together as a family of 3.

[tkwrites]

Meet Me At The Mistletoe - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Video from @fallinallincurls

Title: Meet Me at the Mistletoe

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts

Summary: Based on the song of the same name by Dave Barnes, Quinn and Sarah prepare for and host a team Christmas Party, including shopping on a very special but inconvenient day. 

Warnings: Grief. Talk of dead parents and honoring traditions. Some sex is alluded to, but nothing described. A tiny bit of praise kink stroking. 

Word Count: 8,000

Comments: I'm back with my first ever Christmas fic! I’ve been waiting to write a song based on Meet Me at the Mistletoe by Dave Barnes since I first heard it three or four years ago. It has such a great story and evokes a specific feeling I felt like Quinn and Sarah were especially suited for. When Cici from @thedevilrisen reached out to me about joining a Christmas fic event called Ho Ho Hockey, I knew this had to be the story I wrote for it. 

If you enjoyed this, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. Sending all the love your way!

Meet Me at the Mistletoe 

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

“Will you help me plan a Christmas party?” Quinn blurted, trying to catch his breath. 

“Hu?” Sarah asked, struggling to keep up with the abrupt change of subject.

 Upon getting home from work, she’d practically jumped him in the kitchen. They’d made it as far as the lucky couch before desire consumed them both. He’d been on a roadie for the past few days, and though he got back the evening before, she’d been asleep when he arrived, so they weren’t able to welcome each other home properly. 

Now, she lay beside him, wedged between the back of the couch - cushions had been tossed aside in their frenzy - and his body, feeling sated and satisfied as her head rested on his chest.

“I have to plan a Christmas party for the team,” he explained, knowing he couldn’t put it off anymore. Even though they still had a few months, he knew she would appreciate the advanced warning and that it would only make it easier if they started now.

“Why do you have to do it? I’d think that would be something the coaching staff would do.”

“It’s for players only. We have another one with coaches and staff. It's kind of tradition for the captain to plan it.”

Her lips pressed together, “I don’t know how much time I can dedicate to party planning in December. That’ll be right around finals.” She didn’t have as many traditional classes this semester, but there was still plenty to do. 

“That’s why I’m bringing it up now, and it doesn’t have to be huge,” he rushed to explain. “Last year, JT and Natalie just had people over for drinks, and we did a gift exchange.”

“You want to have it here?” 

“I thought it would be nice.” Now that Sarah was here, the apartment felt more homey and like the kind of place he wanted to show off. 

“So cocktails and gifts?” 

“Yeah, or whatever we want it to be. I think they had some food last year.”

“Okay,” she said. 

“So you can help me?” Quinn asked. 

“Yeah. I don’t know that I’ll have time to go to tastings or anything like that.”

“Tastings?” 

“For food?” 

He laughed, “I figured we’d just order from De Beppe and set up a cocktail bar.” 

“Oh,” it seemed like he didn’t even need her help. “That sounds nice and easy.”

His hand snuck down to cradle the curve of her bottom, “you know I don’t like to make things overly complicated.” 

“It’s just for adults?” she confirmed.

“It was last year,” he said. “Why? Do you want kids to come?”

She shrugged, “not necessarily. Just if they do, we’ll need to host it somewhere else. Our house isn’t really kid proofed.” 

When he didn’t respond, she glanced up to find him looking at her with a goofy smile on his face. 

“What?”

“You said our house.”

“Hu?” 

“You said our house,” he repeated. “Before you’ve always said your house,” he pointed to himself, “or the house.” 

“Oh.” 

Slipping his arms around her waist, he pulled her a little tighter against him, loving the feel of her soft curls as they crushed against his hip. “I’m just glad you’re feeling more at home.”

A pocket of calm silence enveloped them.

“We’ll need to decorate,” Sarah said after a few minutes. 

Quinn agreed. When he thought about hosting the party, the house was always decorated for Christmas, but he’d never thought about what it would take to get it into that state.

“We can figure that out later,” she murmured, laying her head back on his chest, allowing his steady heartbeat to lull her into the state of calm that always came over her when he was home.

They spent another hour there, snuggled up together, only moving when Quinn went fishing for a blanket and had to lean halfway off the couch to get it. 

They didn’t get up until Sarah’s stomach grumbled loudly. 

“Did you eat today?” Quinn asked, his tone accusing. 

“I had a smoothie for breakfast.”

“Sarah,” he admonished. She never ate as well when he wasn’t home. Not just in quality, in quantity.

“I know,” she said, looking down sheepishly. “I even had a salad in the fridge at work, I just got so caught up in stuff. I did eat a protein bar on my way home,” she remembered. 

Deciding he’d tackle the issue of her nutrition later, Quinn traced his fingers up the curve of her spine. “What should we have for dinner tonight?” he asked as he mentally prepared himself for the inevitable exit from their cozy cocoon.

She mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, “I don’t care. Just feed me.”

He laughed. “You got it,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Why don’t you go get changed, and I’ll scrounge up something for us to eat.” 

Are you free November 9th?

When Quinn sent this message, she didn’t think anything of it. They were both so busy that it was normal to schedule things three weeks in advance. 

Yep, what's up that day?

Just wanna take you on a date before the game.

The purposeful vagueness and his wanting to do something on a game day raised her eyebrows. Game days were usually reserved for napping and chill time at home before he had to go to the rink. 

Okay. It's in my calendar. 

He hearted the message, and Sarah went back to work. 

Pick you up at 11 out front, okay?

Though it was a Saturday, and she was off, Quinn knew Sarah would be working on her thesis and he needed to catch her before she got too absorbed by it, no longer concerned with looking at her phone.

For what?

We have a date, remember?

Oh, right. She’d mostly forgotten about the whole exchange, despite looking in her planner that morning and finding (heart) Date (heart) written in the sparkly blue ink she used to denote all things Quinn related.  

What should I wear?

Usually, when he called something a date, it meant dinner out, but this was the middle of the day, and she knew it wouldn’t last terribly long.

Whatever - jeans are fine.

Now, she was really intrigued. Okay. See you then. 

Wondering what on earth he had planned in the middle of the day on a Saturday, on a Saturday game day, no less, Sarah went back to her studies. It was hard to focus, though. Quinn was definitely up to something. They were even playing the Oilers that evening. Something fishy was definitely going on. 

All the same, at 10:30, she changed out of her pajamas, pulled half of her hair up, and put on some makeup before walking down to the lobby. 

Quinn was right on time, parked right in front of the front door. 

“Thanks, Reece,” she said as he held the door open for her. 

“Have a good day, Ms. Roberts,” he said with a nod. 

She slid into the seat of Quinn’s posh new car. She’d learned by now that most players leased a new car at the beginning of every season. Instead of the Jeep, Quinn now had a sleek and luxurious new Porsche SUV. Most of her hated that it was so expensive when there were perfectly good, reliable options that were half the price. Each time she got in it, though, she had to admit: it was extremely comfortable, and the features really were something else. She found a small measure of comfort that at least it wasn’t some ridiculous sports car. 

“So, where are we headed?” she asked as he pulled back into traffic. 

“You’ll see,” he said with a little smile as he reached across the console for her hand. 

Although he had a destination programmed into the car's GPS, she wasn’t entirely sure how the thing worked and didn’t want to accidentally get them off course by fiddling with it. 

They went out of the city, which surprised her. He was bothering to take her to Richmond when they had to get back in time for the game? Not that the 30 minute drive was outrageous, but it seemed a luxury to her when they didn’t have all that much time to begin with.

“We needed to come all the way out to Richmond to go to Costco?”

“It’s the second Saturday of the month,” he said quietly, “and this one's bigger than the one by home. I’m sorry we couldn’t go tonight.” 

“Oh,” her breath hitched as his intention settled on her. She’d stopped mentally marking second Saturdays about a year after her dad died, so she hadn’t even known.

The hiss of his seatbelt retracting brought Sarah out of her daze, and she reached for him before he could get out of the car. 

“Thank you,” she said, feeling both a swell of gratitude as well as a tightening in her chest. 

He beamed, glad he’d pulled it off. “I’ve been trying to get here, but you were so busy with the start of the semester, and then I was out of town…” he trailed off. 

“This is really sweet, Quinn.” Holding his chin, she leaned over the center console to press her lips to his.

He’d wanted to set up this date since she’d told him about her family’s monthly Costco adventures. “Ready?” he asked, nodding toward the store. 

She took a deep breath, letting it sigh out before nodding, “yeah.” 

When she rounded the car and he took her hand, she tried to blink the tears from her eyes. 

“I haven’t been back here,” she said quietly, wanting to explain, just in case she burst into tears. That hadn’t happened for a while, but she could never quite rule it out, especially now that the ache of doing this with him, but without her dad, was freshly torn open. That, mixed with the gratitude she felt at his want to do this for her, especially on a game day, brought up a swirl of so many emotions. Quinn was so incredibly thoughtful. 

He stopped in his tracks, “is this your first time back since your dad died?” he asked. 

“No, I went with mom whenever she or I was visiting, and we all go whenever I’m in town,” she said, “I just don’t think I’ve been without my siblings since she died.”

“Are you okay? We don’t have to go.” He was such an idiot. He should have asked her about it instead of just springing this on her. 

“No, I want to go,” she assured, giving his hand a squeeze. “It just makes me a little nostalgic, that’s all.” 

Before they got to the doors. She tugged him back, “this is really thoughtful, Q.” Why hadn’t she said it before? “Thank you. I feel really cared for.”

The big, genuine smile that took over his face made her heart swell.  

“So what are we looking for?” she asked, grabbing a cart and following him inside. 

“I kind of thought…” he trailed off, lifting the cap off his head, trying to smooth his hair down. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a mother turn her pointing little girl away.

“Hm?”

“I thought we could get some Christmas decorations. Like, obviously, we need a tree, but I didn’t know if you wanted a real one, or…” he trailed off. 

“Isn’t it a little early to be decorating for Christmas? I figured you were a strictly after Thanksgiving kinda guy.”

He laughed, “I mean, I am, but this was the only second Saturday I’m in town before January, so I figured we could shop and then decorate later.” 

A smile beamed over her face, and a sigh unknotted some of the anxiety coiling in his chest. They’d talked, well argued, a little about Christmas. He wanted her to come to Michigan with his family, but it was her siblings' year to be together, so she wanted them to go to Nevada. He was just about ready to fly everyone to Vancouver. It was their first Christmas together. He didn’t want to spend it apart, but he didn’t want either of them to miss out on time with their families. 

“I’ve never had a real tree,” she mused. 

“Really?” 

“My mom always said she hated the mess.” She paused for a moment, remembering, “well, I guess that’s not quite true. Trav and Trev had a real tree the year I lived with them, but it wasn't really my thing. I went back to Nevada in mid-December, so I didn’t help decorate or anything.”

“Okay, so we’ll get a real tree,” he agreed, glad to have that sorted. “You should get to experience it at least once.”

“Okay,” she agreed, a light coming into her face he usually associated with her while she was talking about her research.

The smile Quinn gave her in response - large and happy and indulgent - made her stomach flutter. 

“What do you think  the theme should be?” she asked.

“Hu?” 

“The theme,” she repeated, “like red, or blue or, like, snow?” 

“I don’t…know?”

“Is there anything you really like?” 

“I hate the flocking,” he said. 

“Not what I asked, but still helpful,” she said with a cheeky smile and a wink. 

Quinn felt himself blush. “I don’t know…I feel like I’m bad at this kind of stuff.” 

“What kind of stuff,” she asked, guiding them to the decor aisles. 

“Decorating and stuff.” 

She pshawed, waving her hand, “my mom always said if you like what you come up with, design is never bad. It might not be someone else's taste or style, but it’s not their house.” 

Right, her mom was an interior designer. 

“What do you like?” he asked, stopping to look at a display of dancing elves. They were sort of horrifyingly kitschy, but he couldn’t look away.

“I like classic things. Like red and green, or blue and white. Or, one year, my mom did this really pretty floral design. That doesn’t really match our vibe, though.”

“Did she design a new tree every year?” 

“Sometimes. It all depended on what set her off. She’d sometimes find something like a tartan ribbon, and she’d spin a whole design off of that. We had another little tree in our basement that all of our homemade ornaments went on. We always put presents under that one.” 

“Do you want two?” 

“Trees?” 

“Yeah, one upstairs and one downstairs.”

“Do you?”

He shrugged. “We could put one by the lucky couch.” 

The lucky couch being the suede couch. She’d jokingly called it that after their escapades when the Canucks clinched into the playoffs, “I feel like all I do on this couch is get lucky,” and the name had stuck.  

“Do you want that?” she asked now, looking at him seriously. 

Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine what that would be like. Ultimately, he shrugged, “wouldn’t hurt.” 

She laughed a little. “How about we sort the theme first?” 

He nodded, glad that she had some kind of a plan. 

“Why don’t we split up for a minute? We’ll each find a few things we like, and hopefully, a theme will come out of that.” It was something her mom often did when working with clients. It brought out shared styles. 

“Okay.” 

Sarah wandered off with the cart, heart so full she felt like it might just push into her mouth. 

After five minutes, when Quinn didn't come back, she went looking for him. She found him on one of the fringe aisles, locked in a conversation with a star struck fan. 

He glanced up when she rounded the corner. 

When it became obvious that the person currently holding his attention wouldn't let up anytime soon, he waited for them to finish their thought about the upcoming game and then started to excuse himself. “It was nice talking with you, but I need to be going.” 

“Oh,” the guy seemed to remember they were standing in Costco, “of course. Thanks for chatting, man.” 

They shook hands, and Quinn stepped around him to join up with Sarah. 

“Did you find anything, or did you immediately get bombarded?” 

The smile he sent her way was indulgent. “I got a bit of a look.” Taking the other end of the cart, he pulled her down one of the decor aisles and pointed out some different shaped gold glass ornaments. 

“I liked those, too, but I liked the silver better.” 

“We could get both,” Quinn suggested, lifting a box of each color into the cart. 

“You want to go metallic?”

One side of his mouth twisted. 

“So, no,” Sarah laughed. “What do you think instead?” 

“I don’t know. I just think only metallic is kind of weird.” 

“Okay,” Sarah turned to another section of baubles and started putting them between the silver and gold. 

They discussed the combinations but couldn’t agree on what colors looked better together. 

“Why don’t we just do two trees,” Quinn suggested after having the same circular conversation twice. 

Sarah agreed, glad he brought it up again.  

“Do you want two live ones?” 

“I think we should get one fake one. I’m already a little worried I’m going to forget to water the one.” 

“Do we have to water it?” 

“I’d imagine so. It’s a living plant, isn’t it?” 

He’d never thought about it. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Didn’t you have real trees growing up?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, before sheepishly adding on, “but my mom did all of that.”   

Just as he expected, Sarah snorted. “I can’t believe your dad made your mom take care of something for a holiday she doesn’t even celebrate.” 

“She celebrated Christmas,” Quinn argued. “It’s not like she was against it or something.” 

“It’s the principle of the thing.” 

He smiled indulgently at her. 

They spent another hour wandering around Costco, deciding what to buy. Sarah tried not to wince at the price when it totaled on the checking screen. It was their first year, after all. These things would always be basics they could use over and over again. 

After loading it in the back of his car and starting for home, Sarah spoke again. “Quinn?”

He glanced at her, worry etched onto his face. 

“I just wanted to say thank you again,” she assured, reaching for his hand. “This was so thoughtful and kind.”

A  smile spread over his face, “you don’t need to thank me, Sarah. “I like when I can do something special for you.” 

It wasn’t a strange thing to her anymore, to be with such a caring partner, who not only remembered things about her, but put them to use. Just the other day, he’d brought a set of playing cards home from Seattle after she mentioned wanting to use some different ones in her research with Walter. 

Quinn let her pull his hand into her lap, glad that he’d pulled this off and that she’d enjoyed it so much.   

When the day of the party arrived, Sarah was feeling remarkably calm. 

While they were planning, she felt the weight of hosting the team as the Captain’s girlfriend like a physical thing she had to uphold. Not only did she want everyone to have a good time, she felt it was partially her responsibility to represent Quinn well. Not that he couldn’t do that on his own. He could. It just felt like another mantle she had to uphold and worried she would somehow fail or let him down.

After sharing these fears with her therapist, she helped her to remember that while her fears were understandable, there wasn’t really any basis for them. She’d already spent time with the team with the title of the captain’s girlfriend. The only difference now, as Jenny pointed out, was that she and Quinn were living together. “Which,” Jenny told her, “really only solidifies your relationship. If the team had any issues with Quinn dating you, they would have brought them up a long time ago.” 

Now, as she got ready, hosting their first party together felt like a cementing step in their relationship. It felt a bit like something out of a fairy tale. 

Pulling at the skirt of her dress until it fell the way it was meant to, she smoothed her hands over her hips as she smiled. It’d been a ridiculously long process to find the right dress, but now that she was on the other side of it, the final result was well worth work.

After going shopping with Bella and Katelyn, she came home empty handed.  Everything they'd found was too…much. Too frilly, or too plain. Nothing fit correctly, or it didn’t cover what she wanted covered or didn’t flatter her body. She didn’t even have an image in her head of what she wanted to wear (she rarely did), but nothing they found felt right. 

She’d be lying if she didn’t acknowledge that dress hunting had, at least partially, been so hard because she felt more than a little frumpy and even a little bit fat standing next to both beautiful women. Not that either of them did anything to make her feel that way. They were kind and nice, and two of her best friends among the wives and girlfriends. Still, anytime she tried on a dress, on top of it not being right, when she stood next to them, her eyes were automatically drawn to her hips and stomach, which were so much rounder than either of theirs. 

Generally, body image didn’t bother her - she knew she was attractive and knew Quinn found her attractive. Even knowing that, she had a hard time turning off that comparison part of her brain when seeing herself reflected back next to the two thin women she was with. 

So, while both of them walked away with beautiful party dresses, Katelyn in a short, delicately sewn green frock, and Bella in a sparkly blue sweeping number, Sarah was forced to go hunting for the perfect dress online. Knowing she was running out of time, she bought fourteen, figuring she would return what she didn’t like.

Of course, it was the last one - which arrived only a week before the party - that finally sang to her. Even Quinn commented on it when he saw it hanging in the closet, telling her, “I like this one.”

“Yeah?” 

He’d nodded, offered her a cheeky smile as he said, “I can't wait to see what it looks like on you.”  

At the time, she’d laughed and shaken her head, but with the way he was looking at her now, she knew he hadn’t been lying. 

“Wow,” Quinn said, eyes scanning up and down her body when Sarah walked out of the walk-in closet.

The sparkly fabric cradled her curves as if it had been made for her. He especially liked the way it just barely cupped her ass before billowing down to the floor. He’d never seen her in something so fancy - they’d never had the occasion to dress up like this. 

Thoughts of past prom and formal dates skipped through his mind, and he decided she was the prettiest date he’d ever had. Especially with the way the dark red color turned her eyes a stormy blue.

She gave him a teasing, little smile, “you like it?” 

Scoffing, he gave up fighting the impulse to grasp her hips. The fabric was smooth and surprisingly soft under his palms. He’d expected the tinsel-y shine to be scratchy. Whoever made it knew what they were doing. 

“I don’t know how I’m going to keep my hands off you all night,” he said as his eyes drank in her figure one more time. 

Slipping her arms around his neck, she gave him a seductive smile and a wink, “lucky for you, I think we could arrange for you to take me home tonight.” 

“Really?” he teased, one hand sliding around to cradle that curve of her butt he’d been admiring earlier. 

“Play your cards right, and I think you just might.” 

“I might have to corner you under the mistletoe before then.”

“I thought you hated mistletoe,” she said, rolling her eyes. He'd been mildly horrified when he found she'd hung two sprigs of it in the apartment – one in the front hall and one in the doorway to the kitchen. 

“I don’t know that I’d hate it with you,” he said, voice soft as he caressed her hips again. “I hated when people would try to corral me under it with some girl they wanted me to date,” he explained. “If it means I get to kiss you, I’m going to take advantage every time I can.” 

Thinking of past Christmases and failed mistletoe attempts, Quinn was so struck by her. His life from a year ago had been turned totally upside down. All in good ways, but it was still startling to glance back at how lonely he was last Christmas in comparison to the joy, love, and contentment he felt this year. 

 “You’re going to be the prettiest girl here,” he said, unable to stop himself from looking her over again.

Though she smiled, she snorted and rolled her eyes. 

“You will be,” he insisted, pulling her against him. He couldn’t fight not touching her more. 

Deciding she was too tired to push back against his compliments, Sarah leaned in to press her lips to his. With her heels on, he was just an inch taller than she was. Kissing Quinn was never difficult, but she did enjoy the easier access their closer heights allowed for. 

He mumbled a noise, his other hand coming up to cup the back of her head to intensify the kiss. 

As she broke away, he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “are you not wearing any underwear?”

Her eyes fluttered open. “What?” she asked, a laugh splitting her mouth into a natural, pretty smile. 

“I can’t feel anything,” he explained, running his palm over her bum again. 

“Strictly speaking? No.” 

His eyes grew round with shock. 

“But I have shape wear on, so it’s kind of worse. Harder to get off.”

An almost relieved smile crossed his face. 

“Why?” 

“I just…I was gonna have a real hard time tonight if you weren’t wearing anything under this dress,” he admitted as his palm slid up the curve of her body.

“I don’t think I could face a party with your teammates without any underwear on.”

“Too bad,” he tsked, “then I really wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you all night.” 

“Be a good boy,” she admonished, moving his fingers from where they were sneaking under the straps.

Licking his lips, Quinn looked into her face, his expression eager. 

She held his gaze, letting the tension build between them. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket, vibrating against her leg. He didn’t look away.

“That’ll be the food,” she said, breaking the spell. “You better go grab it.”

“Yeah.” Shaking his head gently, Quinn reminded himself they were heading into a party and now was not the time for him to start fantasizing. “I’ll be right back.” 

“Those pants still look super hot on you!” she called, following him. 

A few weeks before, she’d first told him she liked them by sending him a Canucks Instagram story that showed him walking through the arena parking garage, along with the message, got me drooling over your thighs in this suit. The gray fabric was cut close, making his legs look deliciously thick and muscled.

His laughter echoed off the windows as he jogged down the stairs. “I’m wearing them just for you!” he called back before the front door shut. 

Making her way down to the kitchen, Sarah surveyed the apartment on the way. They had decided to put the second tree next to the lucky couch, which only served to make the spot more romantic. Since it’d gone up, they’d spent at least one night a week curled up together reading by it’s light. It was decorated in silver and green, while the larger, fresh tree was decorated in classic red and gold, including some geometric diamonds her mom used in their last family tree. Sarah had asked her sister, Rachel, if she could send them to her. It was nice, having that little part of her mom in the house at a time they both loved so much, nice to see pieces of Quinn mixed in with everything. 

Other than the trees, there were no other holiday decorations besides a Christmas Village that had belonged to her dad, which was set up on the sideboard in the living room. 

An hour later, almost everyone was there, dressed in their holiday finery. 

Quinn had an incredibly soft, dark green cashmere sweater on over top of a white dress shirt. He’d almost worn the bomb cufflinks Sarah had given him, but at the last minute, he decided it would be more practical if he rolled his sleeves up.

The way Sarah’s eyes lingered on his forearms when he had told him he made the right choice. 

Sarah had insisted the men needed to wear slacks, “if the women are putting on dresses, it’s the least you can do. No dude gets to show up in jeans when women have to wear shape wear.” 

He said he saw her point and dropped the bad news on the boys the following day. 

“Oh my God!” Bella gushed, walking into the house. “It looks gorgeous in here!” 

“Thank you. It was really fun to decorate together for the first time.”

“Huggy helped with this?” Brock asked dubiously, walking up and slipping an arm around Bella’s waist. Sarah swore they both could wear head to toe hunting orange and still be the most beautiful couple she’d ever seen. Seeing them dressed for the season was like looking into a catalog, two perfect people in exactly the perfect clothes, matched to perfection. If they stood by the tree, she was pretty sure she could submit the picture to any department store in the world, and they’d put them in an ad without question. It was quite stunning, really. 

“He did,” Sarah said, beaming. “We decided on the theme together and got decorations, and we put up the trees before you guys left over Thanksgiving.” 

“Brock never helps with stuff like that,” Bella teased. 

“I offered!” Brock corrected. “She said she doesn't trust my taste,” he told Sarah conspiratorially before dropping a kiss to Bella’s cheek and announcing, “I’m going to get us drinks.” 

“Oh my god,” Bella exclaimed once he was gone, “where did you find this dress? It’s, like, perfect!” 

“Its from this Australian company called Blackmilk. It was the last one to arrive,” Sarah said with a roll of her eyes, “of course.” 

“Well, it was worth the wait. You look killer. Your ass looks insane.” 

Sarah laughed, “the spanx have a lot to do with that.”

Bella shook her head, “no. You have a great ass. I wish I had curves like yours.”

Glancing down at herself, then at Bella’s petite frame, Sarah wondered who it served for women to be pitted against each other this way. The beauty industry, probably. Whoever invented spanx. 

“That's sweet, thank you.” 

Bella hooked her arm through Sarah's and demanded a tour of the apartment with everything decorated. 

Watching from across the living room as Sarah opened the door, looking comfortable and every part the hostess, Quinn smiled, glad to see her feeling so at home. 

He was only a little surprised to see the Millers on the other side of the door. He’d invited them, but didn’t hear anything back.

“I’m so glad you could make it!” Sarah gushed, accepting the box of chocolates Natalie offered, before wrapping her in a hug.  

There had been some debate whether or not the Millers would be able to attend - it was their first team function in quite a while - but Sarah was extremely glad they were here. It wouldn’t feel like a team party without them. 

“Come in, come in. We have cocktails and mocktails and lots of food,” she said, turning to embrace JT.

He smiled, uncharacteristically quiet. 

Natalie stayed by Sarah’s side as he wandered into the party, getting progressively louder as he bro-hugged and took some ribbing from his teammates, jibing them in turn as if no time had passed. “Thank you for not making a big deal of this,” she said. 

Sarah shrugged, “I’m just glad you’re here.” 

The other woman gave her a watery smile, and Sarah took her arm to pull her into the house, “what can I get you to drink?” 

The one thing Quinn hadn’t counted on when planning this party was how much he’d be separated from her. When they attended parties in the past, they were often together, or at least not apart for long. Now, with the role of hosts, they had people to talk to and drinks to refresh, and it felt like everything was pulling them away from each other, rather than closer together. 

As the night went on, even though they were still separated, Quinn found he always seemed to know where Sarah was. Not just from her laugh, which he did hear in abundance, or from glimpsing light glinting off her sparkly dress, which occasionally flashed in the corners of his vision. No, it was that same magnetic force that pulled him to her the first time he saw her, still in full effect.

He was talking with Conor when he felt that longing hook in his navel, nudging him in her direction. 

When he looked up, however, he couldn’t see her. It only took a moment for her to reappear, walking from the kitchen, smiling at something Meghan was showing her on her phone. Probably photos of Quint, he guessed. She had a new bottle of Perrier in one hand and a bowl of ice in the other. 

As if sensing his gaze, she glanced up. 

She winked, and a ridiculous, cheesy smile took over his whole face. 

Once their eyes met, their connection followed suit, snapping into alignment as they held each other's gaze. He was on the other side of the apartment, in the living room, but for a brief moment, it seemed everyone else fell away and they were alone in the house again. 

They’d taken pictures in front of the Christmas tree at the beginning of the night as soon as Elias and Katelyn had arrived and could hold the camera. Sarah wanted to send them to her family. He’d smiled when the photo had popped up in the chat she had with his family. His mom had almost immediately hearted the photo and gushed over how beautiful Sarah looked in her dress. 

You look nice too, Quinn, Luke had quipped. 

That had been the last time he had his hands on her, and watching her chat with Meghan as she tipped fresh ice into the metal bucket, he was itching to touch her again. 

“So, what did you think of that video session today?” Conor asked. 

“Hu?” Quinn murmured, unable to tear his eyes from Sarah as she started to laugh. 

Conor followed his sightline. “Oh god, you’re hopeless,” he murmured. “Go get your fix, then come talk to me,” he said, tone only half joking as he pushed Quinn’s shoulder in the direction of the kitchen. 

“Can I borrow her for a minute?” Quinn asked, throwing a smile in Meghan's direction as he walked up to them. 

Not waiting for an answer, he took the bowl from Sarah's hand, setting it on the bar cart and leading her back in the direction of the kitchen by a loose grip on her upper arm. 

“Quinn, what's wrong?” she asked, glancing back to make sure Meghan didn't feel abandoned. Thankfully, Natalie had taken her place in the conversation.

“Nothing wrong,” he said, stopping to lean in the kitchen doorway. 

One of her eyebrows raised, “you just needed to come hang out in the kitchen?” 

A snort of laughter escaped his mouth before he pointed up. Sarah followed his finger to the little sprig of fake mistletoe she’d hung there. “I thought you were joking,” she said, her eyes coming back to his face. 

“About this dress?” he asked, slipping his hands over her hips and around to hold her bum. “Or about wanting to kiss you under the mistletoe?” 

She glanced back to the party, hoping no one caught Quinn groping her so openly. “I don't know. About the cornering bit, I guess.”

A smile crept over his face, “how else was I supposed to guarantee we'd end up here together?” 

Sarah tried to roll her eyes but ended up smiling instead. It was nice to feel so wanted. 

“I missed you,” he said, nudging her to step toward him by tightening his hands. 

“Quinn, people can see,” she admonished, even as she moved closer. 

“So?”  

“So you have your hands all over my ass in plain sight.” 

“I don’t think anyone would blame me for wanting to touch you in this dress,” he said.

A thrill spiked in her chest. She’d never had this much pull over a man. “And what were you hoping for under this mistletoe?” she asked.

“Just need a minute to tide me over until the party ends,” he murmured, leaning in. 

His lips brushed over hers. 

Deciding she didn’t care if people saw, Sarah sighed into him. Everyone knew they were dating, after all. More than dating - they were living together. They were throwing a party together. No one would be shocked to see them under the mistletoe. 

Allowing herself to sink into the kiss, she opened her mouth and welcomed the sweet, tangy taste of his tongue. He must have just drunk some of the cranberry punch she made. 

 A contented noise escaped his mouth, and Quinn leaned a little closer, savoring the hint of chocolate liqueur in her mouth. 

The knowledge that his entire team and their partners were in the house caught up to him, and Quinn pulled back. He didn’t really want to, but he also didn’t want the ribbing that would surely come his way if it went any farther.  

He just needed to make it to that evening anyway. 

Pursing his lips together, he met her eyes.

Her smile told him she was looking just as forward to the end of the party as he was. 

The anticipation of it spiked in his stomach, making him feel giddy. 

The laughter and drinks kept flowing long after the gift exchange wound down.

 In an effort to do something different from the year before, they’d proposed a white elephant type exchange, but each gift had to be worth at least 100 dollars and something nice, not jokey. 

The most fought over gifts were a bottle of imported Irish Whiskey Dakota brought and a diamond necklace Sarah had found in a vintage shop along her regular route home.

Quinn ended up with a pair of tickets to a cooking class with a local chef, while Sarah ended up with a ridiculously soft cashmere scarf. 

Though Sarah expected that everyone, with their rigorous travel schedules, would want to get home as soon as possible, it seemed they all were savoring the time together without their kids and without the pressure of practice or a game. 

It was nice to see all the guys casual and carefree in a way that didn’t happen very often. She rarely saw the whole team so relaxed together. 

When it became evident that everyone would be staying much later than anticipated, Sarah started to readjust her expectations for the evening. The way things were going, they’d be too tired to do anything but do a quick clean of the apartment and flop into bed when the night wound down. 

Quinn was chatting with Lankinen in the kitchen, looking so effortlessly handsome in his sweater and slacks. Those slacks really should be a crime. his thighs looked good enough to bite. And then he’d gone and rolled up his sleeves. He had strong wrists and forearms, and when he wore shirts like this, she always felt a strange surge of attraction to them. 

As she continued to stare, just as she expected would happen, he looked up to meet her gaze. 

She gave a subtle head tilt toward the entry hall and raised her eyebrows. 

A smile crept over his face, and he nodded. 

Trying to be casual, she made her way to the front door. She’d hung mistletoe in the entryway, imagining kissing each other hello and goodbye at the door, even though that rarely happened in their everyday life. 

By the time Quinn was able to make his excuses and follow Sarah to the front door, she’d been there for several minutes, He found her leaning against the wall, with her head tilted back, seemingly savoring the time alone. 

He was just wondering if he should leave and come back when she glanced over. 

A smile immediately spread over her face, and she straightened.

“You okay?” he asked, closing the distance between them. 

“Yeah.” Her voice was quiet, just for him. 

Slipping her arms around his neck, she met his eyes. Even in the dim, entryway light, she could see how the color of his sweater brought out the green in his eyes, making them a mottled, foresty color.

“You should wear green more often.”

The left corner of his mouth tipped up. “I should?” 

“Yeah.” Her fingers wove themselves into the curls at the base of his skull. “It brings out the color in your eyes.” 

He fluttered his lashes, and she giggled. “Can you just learn to take a compliment?” 

A blush flashed over his cheeks. 

“You’re just really handsome,” she said, almost as if it was a confession. 

Quinn resisted the urge to deflect the compliment and busied himself with running his hands over the smooth fabric of her dress. “You should wear this all the time.” 

“All the time?” she repeated. 

He nodded. 

“Even at the aquarium?” 

A laugh chuffed out of his mouth. “Okay, maybe not all the time,” he continued before she could cut in, “you just look really beautiful in it.” 

She knew how Quinn felt about this dress, he’d made that abundantly clear throughout the night - checking her out each time she entered the room and with his little stunt in the kitchen - but hearing the sincerity in his voice now made it burrow home with a bit more force. 

It was her turn to blush. 

“You’re doing okay?” he asked. “I can start telling people they need to leave.” 

She shook her head, “You don’t need to do that. I’m having fun. Just wanted you to myself for a minute.” 

Quinn felt a ridiculously big smile spread over his face. “Always happy to do that,” he said, leaning closer. 

As their mouths melted together, Sarah thought she heard shushing but pushed the whispers out of her mind, relishing the stolen moment alone. 

She didn’t think about it for the rest of the night, which lasted well into the next morning. By the time everyone left, after Natalie and JT stayed late to help them clean up, it was past two. 

Glancing at her phone for the first time after loading the dishwasher, Sarah was surprised to see she had a message from Katelyn. When she opened it, she found a dimly lit photo of her and Quinn in the entryway, kissing under the mistletoe. His hands were on her waist, and hers were in his hair. Through her editing magic, Kate had blurred everything else in the background, making the photo look just like Sarah felt in that moment – as if she and Quinn were in their own little bubble. 

Caught you guys under the mistletoe. It was too cute not to take a pic. Hope you don’t mind. Thanks for a great party. E was telling me on the way home how happy Q’s been since he met you. Anyway, just glad this crazy world brought us together. Love you, girl. 

 Love you too. Thank you for the beautiful picture. 

Katelyn hearted the message, and when Sarah showed it to Quinn, he said, “that one should go in the launch deck, don’t you think?”

Sarah nodded, her movement slow with sudden fatigue.

“Come on,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and leading her away from the kitchen and the dishes. “We can finish this up in the morning. Let’s get to bed.” 

Too tired to argue that they really should just get it all done now, she let him lead her upstairs. 

They got ready for bed, and as he pulled her close, Quinn whispered, “I love you, you know that?” 

“I know.” It took a sleepy minute for her to continue, “I love you, too. I’m glad we did this.”

Tucking his nose into her hair, Quinn breathed in her familiar scent. His voice was dim when he thanked her. 

She turned, pressing her nose into the divot of his collar bone so he felt and heard her next words. 

“I’m glad this Christmas is with you.” 

 “I wouldn’t want it with anyone else.” 

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[engie-ivy]

949 words

Sirius Black is known as the office Grinch, so what has suddenly gotten into him?

You Make It Feel Like Christmas

You Make It Feel Like Christmas - Gwen Stefani

“You're delusional.”

“I'm not!”

“You must be.”

“No, I swear,” Benjy hisses.

“Well, maybe you misheard,” Hestia offers.

Benjy huffs. “You think I would not recognize ‘Jingle Bells’?”

Emmeline shakes her head. “Anything is more likely than Mr Black humming that song.”

“He was in front of me at the coffee machine,” Benjy says. “And I swear I heard him do it!”

You see, the reason why the mere idea of Sirius Black walking around the office humming ‘Jingle Bells’ is so preposterous, is because Sirius Black is known as the office Grinch.

The man dislikes everything that's even remotely related to Christmas.

When Mary and Dorcas were hanging the Christmas lights, Mr Black commented on energy savings for the office and the necessity of cutting down on the electricity bill. In his opinion, Christmas was a huge waste of energy in its entirety. No one actually knew if he was still talking about electricity.

When the first Christmas song was played on the radio, Mr Black pointedly put on his noise canceling headphones. Plus, he actually has no idea who Mariah Carey is, which is shocking in its own right.

When Edgar came to work wearing his Christmas jumper, Mr Black reported him for inappropriate work attire (though luckily Lily from HR simply told him to get over it).

Moreover, Mr Black constantly complains that Christmas Day is an obligatory day off, instead of him being able to save his vacation hours for, in his words, ‘when he actually needs them’.

He has also called Christmas markets a trick to sell junk no one needs, he's known to think that a gift certificate makes for the best Christmas gift, and that black coffee tastes better than any hot chocolate ever could.

“Okay, I'm actually getting really worried,” Caradoc whispers as they convene at the coffee machine.

“Me too,” Edgar replies in a concerned voice. “Maybe he's come down with some sort of illness?”

“Did you guys hear what he said when he saw the little Christmas tree on my desk?” Mary hisses. “He said it looked ‘nice’. Nice! No eye roll, no sarcastic undertone. Just nice.”

“I almost had a heart attack when I saw his tie this morning,” Emmeline says faintly. “I mean, tiny snowmen?”

Dorcas bites her lip. “Could it be some sort of brain disease?”

“Or maybe he hit his head and he has a concussion?” Benjy offers.

“Should we like… take him to the hospital or something?” Fabian asks.

“Gosh,” Hestia says. “Why are you all so negative? Maybe he just finally caught the Christmas spirit!”

“Excuse me?”

Everyone pauses their work to look at the man who appeared in the doorway to their office. He's got floppy, honey-coloured hair, is wearing a rather tattered coat and is carrying a box with a bow tied around it.

“I'm looking for-”

“Remus!” Mr Black jumps to his feet. “What are you doing here?”

A light colouring appears on the man's cheeks as he looks at Mr Black and he smiles a little sheepishly. “I hope I'm not disturbing you?”

Mr Black closes his laptop without giving it a second look. “Not at all! I can always make time,” says the man who once almost made Gideon cry because he dared ask him a question while he was in the middle of an Excel sheet.

“Great,” the box-carrying man, Remus, grins, and despite the scars on his face, it makes him look strangely endearing. “My mum and I baked Christmas cookies, and we, of course, made way too much for just us, so I thought I'd drop by your office to bring some?”

“That's so sweet of you!” Mr Black happily takes over the box. “I absolutely love Christmas cookies,” says Mr Black, who has never even touched any of the cookies Caradoc baked for the office.

“I see you're wearing the tie I gave you,” Remus says.

“Of course,” Mr Black replies. “It's my favourite.”

“That's good,” Remus smiles softly.

They both just look at each other for a moment, while the rest of the office exchanges looks.

Then Remus averts his eyes and looks down at his shoes. “You know, I was wondering…” He begins. “Would you like to go and look at the Christmas lights together tonight? It may sound cheesy, but they're actually really pretty and it's one of my favourite Christmas activities to-”

“I would love to!” Mr Black replies a little breathless. “I've been really wanting to go and see the lights.”

Mary makes an indignant sound, but both men hardly seem to notice there's anyone else in the room.

“Great!” Remus looks up and beams at Mr Black. “And I was thinking that maybe we could visit the Christmas market and drink some hot chocolate together?”

“I love the Christmas market,” Sirius replies without skipping a beat. “And I'd love to drink hot chocolate with you.”

“Good. Great. Perfect,” Remus says. “So, it's… it's a date?” The colouring on his cheeks increases.

"It's a date,” Mr Black agrees.

Both men stare at each other for a long moment, having completely forgotten there's a room full of people looking at them, people who start shifting uncomfortably in their chairs.

Remus is first to snap out of it. “I… I

I should let you get back to work.”

“Work,” Mr Black repeats, like he's trying to remember what the word means. “Right. Work.”

“See you tonight?” Remus asks.

“Can't wait,” Mr Black replies.

As Remus leaves and Mr Black turns back to the room, everyone immediately turns to their computer, pretending to be working.

Hestia exchanges a look with Emmeline.

Sirius Black definitely caught something alright, but it ain't Christmas spirit.

[snoopyhq]

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ eres mi regalo mejor, querido

type: viktor x reader

summary: viktor with a reader whose love language is gift giving

word count: 1250

First of all, why?

Not that he’s ungrateful or anything! Far from it, in fact

See, he just isn’t used to receiving gifts “just because”

Growing up in Zaun, moving to Piltover, and now dedicating his life to Hextech meant that he doesn’t exactly have time to enjoy the little things. He has no desire to be speaking in front of crowds. His comfort zone is being in the lab, his focus on his latest passion project, and he has control over what he’s doing and what he knows

Also, he’s not used to surprises. Didn’t reckon he would ever be fond of them

And I’m totally projecting here, but Viktor is also one of those people with the really awkward reaction to receiving gifts. He doesn’t know what to do or say that would seem appropriate enough, you know? He’s extremely touched that you thought of him and not just that, but saw it fit to get/make him something

Over time, accepting that he’s loved through the means of gifts becomes easier

He’s not the best at it to start with, because most his purchases have strictly been on a “necessity” basis

But he isn’t one of Piltover’s brightest minds for nothing

Babygirl’s hypothesizing, observing, and applying. Got that scientific method approach when he’s getting you gifts

Overall, you’re both doting on each other now in your ritualistic exchanges of presents

It’s a mix of hand-made and bought, and both forms of acquisition doesn’t matter when the thought behind the choice is explained with such love 💕

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ DRABBLE TIME !!!

While the holiday season was a time of rest and relaxation for most people, things within Piltover's labratories were in complete mayhem. The department's end of season party was quickly approaching, which meant Viktor and Jayce were consumed with decorating the halls. That was their assigned task, and they were determined to do a good job.

Sky had went home to her family a week earlier. You and the boys had bid her a sweet farewell, sending her home with a collaborative handmade stopwatch. It had a GPS built in (thank you, Viktor), a widget for the weather and traffic predictions (shoutout Jayce), and you had drawn up the blueprint for its internal mechanics.

Viktor returned home a little after 6:00 PM today. It was well beyond dark outside, even with the lamps lighting up the streets. This was the last breather before the actual event in about three hours.

"Here, eat something," you encouraged, handing him a bowl of soup you'd made earlier.

"Thank you. You always know just what I need," he smiled wearily.

While he got to work on the meal, you went about getting ready. You were Viktor's plus-one, and while most of the department knew your name and face from your frequent visits to see your beloved, you were still nervous. Even so, you were determined to enjoy yourself, and hopefully Viktor would too.

He wasn't too fond of crowds, and for the first time in your life, you found yourself the people person in a duo. That was working out well. You have slowly gotten better at getting out of your shell, and Viktor too, began to pick up on your mannerisms when around others. He has now talked to a handful of people of his own accord, an accomplishment you were extremely proud of, and him pleased.

"Oh, and before we go! Our gift exchange," you piped up. That caught Viktor's full attention.

Right! Your gift exchange was today. He was nervously excited, despite himself. He had put in much thought and effort into your gifts, and while you would never have a negative reaction, he couldn't help the small anxieties that repeated in his mind. But it would be alright.

You went first. Handing him a deep green paper bag with white snowflakes around the border, you waited with bated breath.

"This was the color you said looked good on me, yes?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Yep! Ok, now open your gifts," you encouraged.

He did, eyes widening in delight. There was a clothing set, made in soft, fine material that felt like flowing water between his fingers. There was a rich, brown dress shirt, with forest green silk vest, a black leather belt with silver gear buckles, and brown pants to match the dress shirt. While those articles were commissioned from a local tailor, you had added in a handmade lapel in the shape of narcisscus. The flower for his birth month.

That wasn't all. You had included a candle scented with coffee and a muted hint of pine. Then there was a copy of a philosophy book, writtern by an academic you knew he was fond of. The author had done a recent meet and greet at one of the bookstores downtown, and you had made sure to clear your schedule that day in order to attend.

"Look on the inside!"

He did, and nearly cried. There was a note in the author's handwriting, signed off too.

To Viktor,

I was heard that you were fond of my works. I hope this latest volume of mine brings you as much joy as I felt knowing I had such a devoted reader like yourself. Best Wishes!

"How did you even- I mean, the event was all booked when I tried to get a spot," he laughed breathlessly.

"Why did you think I stayed up all night?" you grinned.

"All of this is so much," he whispered. "God, I feel so...,"

"No, none of that now," you chided. "Whatever you got me will be just as wonderful because it's from you. Don't compare your hard work to mine, Viktor."

He took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

"Thank you. Will you open your presents now, love?"

You were more than ready. The bag he handed you was a simple brown one, belying the efforts within. The first thing you got was a copy of a newly released book, one you had been eyeing for ages. Not only that, there were stickers and tabs throughout, and when you opened to a random page, you were met with his familiar handwriting, meticulously annotating in the margins with his commentary. It was a dream. You basically get to read this treasure alongside his thoughts. You've mentioned on multiple occasion how you wanted to start annotating your books, but never quite found the time. Now Viktor had went above and beyond.

"Viktor. Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

Not waiting for his response, you reverently set the book down and went to open the rest. There was a custom CD! The tracklist was accompanied by another note, explaining that he wanted to chronicle the love he has for you through music. Jayce, Mel, and Sky had been great helps in finding him some of the songs and getting it all burned and made into a disk.

And then there was his letter. Beautiful swirls and some words crossed out, the multi-page declaration of adoration was something you couldn't wait to sit down and read fully.

You were pulled from your thoughts when you felt Viktor's hand around yours.

"Before we go to the party tonight, I want to tell you that you will always be my greatest gift. I may not be perfect at showing it to you quite yet, but I have found myself more and more at ease in this love we share. Happy holidays, moje miláčku."