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hitlikehammers · 3 days ago

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oh golden boy (don't act like you were kind)

part ii: you shined a light on your home

for @kultiras at the ❄️ Winter @steddieexchange 🖤💚

<<< part one

Eddie will not pretend he doesn’t squeak when Dustin bustles past him into the house—a wholly appropriate ranch on the edge of town, with two whole separate bedrooms, no one on the couch anymore, plus a little side room that Eddie thinks probably wasn’t meant as a guest room but can definitely fit about three sleeping bags, four at a push—but yeah, he should have expected Dustin to shove his way into Eddie’s home whether Eddie invited it or not.

He doesn’t have to like it. Or approve of it. Or tolerate it without complaint; without pushing back.

“Hend—” he tries to sound stern, tries to project hand-on-hips-authority like St—

Like some people do. Sometimes. So Eddie’s heard.

“Implied consent!” Dustin cuts him off, voice carrying from at least the living room already, Jesus fuck, this kid; his tone.

Eddie’s glaring hard enough to almost definitely bore a hole through this shithead’s skull, or maybe make him spontaneously combust. If Supergirl was the one glaring, it’d be a done deal.

“You didn’t shut the door, thereby participating in the creation of an entrance,” Dustin’s rambling on and Christ, but he’s such a pompous little fuck sometimes.

“Which is great, and super smart of you,” Dustin tells him earnestly, actually, and wow: if that isn’t condescending, holy fuck; “because the quicker we can address the problem, the quicker it can be solved,” and then he’s turning of his heel and fucking…clapping his hands to together like Eddie’s in goddamn kindergarten.

“So!” Dustin barks with a weird enthusiasm. “Now we can talk about what you did to Steve, and how you’re gonna fix it.”

Eddie blinds at him for a couple couple seconds before throwing his hands up and half-kinda snarling, half-kinda whining:

“What the fuck, man?”

And honestly, Eddie’s torn just now between hurt and angry, indignant and bleeding out a little, because he doesn’t like Dustin accusing him blindly, here, and while he’s long grown past thinking the hero worship was unfounded—honestly, if he’s going to have to think about the man explicitly instead of as the understood ‘you’ that the constant ache of him and his absence has settled as in Eddie’s universe: he thinks what he clocked as hero worship in the beginning probably could have used some bulking up, because…the genuine article was so much more than even the stories Eddie’d refused to believe at the start.

But, back it up: Eddie…Eddie can accept Dustin coming to Steve’s defense—encouraged it, even. But, like, Dustin has stood up for Eddie, too, and just…Eddie didn’t do anything, he’s spent enough cold nights with his arms stretched missing what they’d learned so well to wrap around and hold so close, mourning what’s not there and hell yes, he’s run down every little detail he can think of, where he might have been the one to drive Steve away without ever, ever meaning to, and it boils down the same every time: there’s nothing.

He wishes there was. Because then yeah, like Dustin’s saying—there’d be something to fix. Something to do, to try and salvage what Eddie is entirely aware was very probably the love of his fucking life.

But there isn’t.

“Clearly something is wrong between the two of you,” Dustin gestures broadly in the air, extravagant for no reason but then also it kinda fits entirely because this entire heartbreak of an affair is basically the most devastating thing that’s ever tried to take Eddie down, and he was basically dead in another dimension that one time, so.

That’s saying something, is what he’s getting at.

“And like, I’ve watched when Steve’s been the one to fuck up, man, so like, I can recognize the signs and,” Dustin shakes his head, looks not exactly apologetic but not entirely all-in guns-blazing about pinning the blame on Eddie alone. At least not without giving him a fair shake to explain first.

Which he’d do, if he had any fucking idea what caused them to crash and burn when they’d been the most solid thing Eddie had ever seen, let alone been a part of; got to feel for himself.

“I know Steve,” Dustin says carefully, kinda slow, almost reluctant, which Eddie doesn’t really get until the next part comes out, a little choked, like tears muscled down:

“I’ve never seen him like this.”

Well. Fuck.

Fuck.

“It’s the holidays, man,” Eddie tries to make it sound casual, or at the very least genuine, like his pulse hasn’t jumped for the idea that Steve’s…not okay. Not fucking thriving like he deserves, now that Eddie’s out of the way of what makes him as happy as he should always be. “Sometimes people are just a little down in the dumps, it’s not unheard of,” and he thinks that lands okay, those are all true things, no one needs to know the way his heart’s thumping like a rabbit as his head goes to all sorts of horrible possibilities, and he shouldn’t let himself slide down those pathways anymore, it’s not his business, Steve isn’t—

“He’s not just sad,” Dustin shakes his head; “he’s not,” and he trails off and Eddie’s heartbeat stutters then jackhammers wild for the way Dustin’s face crumples over a fucking interminable stretch of moments that drives every horror possible through fragile arteries not prepared for how much it hurts, laced with the acids at the base of Eddie’s throat and rising, banged around with every beat and—

“I don’t think he’s sleeping,” Dustin says, so quiet, hard to tell if there are actual tears of just the threat of them. “I don’t think he’s eating,” and he takes a shaky breath that gets mirrored in Eddie’s blood, sniffles as he adds on, kinda desperate, fraying at the seams: “Robin can’t even…”

He stops, breathes a couple of times and collects himself—too good at that. Eddie…

Eddie doesn’t even try to do that, for his part. He’s not…strong, like these kids. Like the rest of this little rag-tag-trauma family unit. Eddie isn’t built that impermeable. S’why he’s always had to put on a show, scare people off before they get close enough to see the obvious.

Until…Steve.

And the proof of Eddie’s weaknesses are front and centre right now, so. Case in point.

“I met him right after he and Nancy broke up,” Dustin’s saying after he takes the time to regroup, huffing a breath and furrowing his brows at nothing, until: “after she did the,” and he circles his wrist around again and oh. Oh.

Bullshit.

Eddie’s brow furrows, too, at that.

“I didn’t know it at the time, obviously, and not like I was really paying attention anyway,” Dustin screws up his face a little, like he’s angry at a lot of people for what he’s remembering, and he’s not exempt from his own list; “but you said it yourself, you thought they were meant to be,” Dustin points at him in the sort of way that presses down on Eddie’s shoulders, makes him feel queasy and just…small.

“Unmitigated love, or whatever,” Dustin half-sneers and he doesn’t think that was the word he used but fuck if Eddie’s not transported back to those woods, to those first inklings that his heart was gonna leap and know it couldn’t stick the landing, would less crack and more like splatter, a messy ruin on the sidewalk for trying, for reaching when there was nothing to hook with a grip—

Except there had been, in the end. He hadn’t known it then—just reveled in the way it felt to brush arms against that man, to lean close enough to feel his heat in the frigid deadspace that was the hellscape they were trekking through.

But the end, as it has come anyway, did in fact leave him a fucking spatter-scape on the concrete, exactly the same as he’d feared at the start.

But Dustin fucking Henderson hadn’t been there when Eddie was making eyes at Mr. Former High School Royalty, so—

“How the fuck do you—”

“Doesn’t matter how,” Dustin waves him off like he’s a fucking idiot for asking a question that’s beneath his concern for the topic at hand. “Youthought that,” he rocks forward in emphasis and okay, fine, yeah. Eddie had thought that.

It’d taken a long fucking while for Eddie to stop thinking it; he’s tried not to wonder, now, if he was foolish to ever stop thinking it.

But: no. Of all the reasons Steve got sick of him, he doesn’t think it was because Steve decided to want Nancy. He remembers every word Steve told him about that time, and how Eddie knew it was downplayed for how much Steve took the brunt of her rejection, for how generous Steve was in hindsight to remember how it went down; how genuinely worrisome it was to know Steve actually saw himself as deserving what he’d gotten.

Still. Back in the Upside Down, Eddie had thought it. Told him to get it back. Couldn’t fathom her not seeing the error of her ways even before he comprehended just how egregious her errors ran the first time, just how little even unambiguous signs of love might still fail to deserve Steve Harrington.

But before he knew: he had thought he understood well enough to judge.

Just more reasons for Eddie Munson to quality as an unmitigated idiot.

“So when he lost that,” Dustin’s picking back up again, has got his explaining cap on, trying to map a diagram or some shit, save that it’s Steve and it feels…insufficient in every way, insulting at that, to think Steve could ever be made…simple like that. Cut and dry.

Eddie bristles at it. Maybe he doesn’t have the right anymore, but: Dustin sure as fuck does, and needs to do better.

“He was still okay enough, after that, to fucking join a quest for demodogs and get beat to hell by a psychopath,” Dustin’s saying with the kind of gravity all of a sudden that feels up to reshaping the world; “all just to protect some kids he didn’t even know.”

Eddie can feel where this is headed, can see the lead up to where Dustin’s going to drop them.

He wishes like hell that he couldn’t.

“So if he’s like this, now,” and Dustin sounds…fucking distraught, like all the posturing of pressuring Eddie to reveal what the hell had gone wrong, what he’d done to destroy them, to lose his Steve: the anger and the bafflement was all secondary.

The kid’s fucking scared.

And this kid? Who’s stared down certain death, who’s jumped after Eddie’s stupid ass when the end was imminent, no question?

That…that ratchets Eddie’s pulse up, considerably. For what it has to…mean.

“I have never,” and Dustin’s voice is kind of raspy, kind of too strained and Eddie…Eddie thinks it’d be shitty of him to say that Dustin only sounds like he’s struggling with a fraction of what Eddie’s starting to feel head-on, the bone-deep trembling worry for the unspoken details that must comprise the current state of Steve, piled on top of the wholesale grief and the mourning of both what Eddie’d had, and what he’d been hoping he’d be allowed, be able to keep.

It’d be shitty to say that. So he won’t.

Say it.

“Eddie, I have never seen him like this.”

And it’s all Eddie can do not to whimper, or moan pathetically because the hurt in those words is visceral, and it’s not supposed to be there because Eddie was the problem, he was what was hurting Steve and he’s out of the equation. So what’s causing this much anxiousness, this much concern? How could something have gone to shit so quickly, in just the weeks they’ve been apart—what’s wrong with his Stevie?

(And maybe Steve isn’t his anymore but by god, Eddie is Steve’s, will be to the day he dies, he thinks—no, he knows; no matter where he goes or who he becomes, a part of his heart will belong to Steve for always, whether it’s wanted or not. So that’s his Steve. Where is heart lives. Where is love burns, even as a nuisance. He can’t stop it. He can’t put it out.

It’s with his Steve, and no other.)

“And like,” and Eddie pulls himself enough out of his wallowing, his fretting, the aching in his fucking veins to focus on Dustin as he eyes Eddie up blatantly, the squints a little:

“You don’t look like you’re doing the best, either.”

Okay. Rude.

“Gee, thanks,” Eddie tries to drawl annoyingly, fails miserably; aim to bat his eyes at an attempt at levity that he knows falls flat as hell.

He doesn’t know if he was even trying for it more for Dustin’s sake, or his own.

“Fuck off, man,” Dustin rolls his eyes; “I’m serious,” then he’s gets that grave tone about him again and Eddie hates that these kids have to even know how to be that serious about anything—least of all him, and his…whatever you call the ruins of your everything, when it comes to—

“You might not be hurting like Steve is,” Dustin tells him plain, doesn’t pull punches; “like you’re joyful in comparison,” and okay, ouch—

“But that’s not a healthy bar to clear.”

And Dustin’s eyes are a little narrowed around the call-out, the judgement on so many levels but they’re also…open somehow. Trying to be receptive, and welcoming.

Trying to be a good friend—for Steve and Eddie alike.

“Henderson,” Eddie shakes his head even before his voice strains; “he,” and all the fight goes out of him, drained dry better than the bats ever managed to leave him which is for the best, really, because what he says next, what he admits next is as good as slicing as artery, the way it flays him open to speak into the world:

“He doesn’t want me around.”

He doesn’t want you—

“Oh, right,” Dustin snarks at him with a glare; “definitely doesn’t wilt whenever you come up, doesn’t leave the room or anything,” then it’s Dustinwho wilts a little, somewhere between a pout and concern:

“When we actually get to see him at all.”

“That would be a prime example,” Eddie notes with a kind of…devastated intent, shoving the stabbing sense of worry at the core of him out of the way to make his point: “of what someone does when they don’t want a person around,” and Eddie is right, he’s absolutely right because that’s just natural, that’s a normal reaction and here is clear proof that—

“Not Steve.”

Dustin cuts Eddie’s mental conviction off at its knees with the sheer amount of feeling, of certainty in his tone, like he knows this one thing beyond all the doubt in the world.

It’s that certainty that sours worst in Eddie’s gut.

“If Steve doesn’t want something, he ignores it,” Dustin says, insistent and so fucking sad; “I think it goes back to his parents, like,” Dustin shrugs, and Eddie feels bile at the back of his throat.

“If you’re unwanted, you’re neglected, treated like you don’t exist,” and not for the first time, Eddie kinda-sorta regrets that the murder charges didn’t stick, because then he’d be tarred and feathered appropriately to just go ahead and off the fuckers that made Steve ever wonder if he was somehow anything less than the best person, the most deserving of everything.

“Because that hurts worse,” Dustin says, low, like he gets it. Like he hates it.

“Being invisible hurts the worst.”

Death would be too easy for those fucking assholes who taught Steve that, just because their own hearts were hateful. Eddie…Eddie wants to run to his Stevie and just, fucking, hold him. Make sure he remembers that it doesn’t matter if Eddie’s near or far, his or never close again: he’ll always matter to Eddie. He’ll never, ever be invisible.

“I,” Eddie licks his lips when the silence stretches too long, and Dustin doesn’t seem inclined to fill it this time. “He,” and Eddie’s mouth is too dry, throat still too tight; “we’ve been—”

“You’re together.”

Eddie freezes, heart doing a kind of hard brake thing that shakes him from the ribs on out, and Eddie may not have know where the hell he was going, how he was going to summarize then sanitize what it feels like to give all that you are and be found wanting in the end—but he hadn’t once considered fucking saying…that.

“What?” Eddie chokes, half-assed at best. It’s shock more than it’s denial, save that it should have been past tense, even if Eddie’s whole fucking soul is still with Steve, but he doesn’t think he knows or even fully wants to reel it back.

Ever.

But while they hadn’t hid anything more than in plain sight? They…no one was ever told they’d been dating, and, he, they—

“If even I can see it,” Dustin says, not unkindly exactly but…definitely blunt: “that kinda means it’s an open secret.”

Eddie coughs around the tight shock squeezing at his throat:

“Those aren’t your words,” he manages, because—they aren’t.

And Dustin looks briefly like he sucked on a lemon, knows he can’t fight the obvious.

“Max,” he sighs, admitting from where he’s borrowing uncharacteristic insight; “she told me I was the last to know.”

Any other day, about any other thing, Eddie would feel a much bigger sense of petty vindication in Dustin’s forced humbling.

As it stands? Eddie’s chest hurts too much to fit any kind of twisted delight of the kind getting any sort of foothold in him.

“Right,” he breathes out in an airy, useless kind of sound, doesn’t know where it’s going, doesn’t know what he’s doing.

He feels…actually?

Dying felt less tumultuous than what’s starting to churn through his veins right now, no fucking lie.

“You guys could have told us,” Dustin prods, a little sad, disappointed—hurt that he was left out.

“I,” Eddie’s mouth works around a lot of thoughts, a lot of half-formed feelings because what would it have been like to hold Steve where the people they loved could see, just because they could? To sit in his lap when he got tired, when the scars ached a little from doing too much for too long with the kids. To warm his hands just under the hem of a sweater. To just, just—

“Doesn’t matter now,” is what Eddie lands on, because it’s the honest conclusion of all his wishful wondering; bitter in his voice as much as it is in his chest. “It’s over.”

Fuck. Fuck, has he even said that out loud, yet? Can’t have—it hits too much like whiplash. Like the world ending.

“Doesn’t sound over,” Dustin volleys back like it’s simple; “is it over, for you?”

He asks it, like it’s enough to love with all that you are when it’s got nowhere to go anymore. Like he can strong-arm that kind of feeling through will alone. That one side can make a relationship on their own.

“It sure as hell doesn’t look like it’s over for him,” Dustin stares him down, now, something shifting in his demeanor that screams that he’s done playing games.

“What did you say?” Dustin asks him, something a little pleading in it, but Eddie’s throat won’t work, he can’t fucking speak and Dustin reads it as avoidance, instead of like Eddie’s heart is trying to rip out past his fucking trachea.

“What did he say?” but Dustin doesn’t sound even remotely convinced for his own self that this is on Steve. That it could be on Steve. And…again. Dustin hasn’t been shy about supporting one of them over the other when necessary.

“I,” and how is Eddie even supposed to breach explaining the chain of events that he can parse, leading to where things stand now? Sorry buddy, your ineffably physical and endlessly affectionate brother-slash-babysitter started refusing my kisses and sleeping on the edge of the bed so he barely touched me when he used to be a goddamn octopus to my sloth, grabbing and never letting go until he did, entirely, which is to say nothing of the sex, fuck, did you know your taxi driver is loud as shit in bed, but then all of a sudden if we even had sex he was suddenly silent and if there’s ever a blow to your ego, it’s to fuck your boyfriend and get nothing in response save sometimes tears he doesn’t acknowledge in the aftermath, that really makes a guy feel special.

Yeah, he’s not going to say that. He doesn’t even know how to get across how Steve pulled away, slow and all at once at the same time, overnight as much as it felt like it happened in pieces. But he stiffened when Eddie so much as brushed against him. He barely talked to Eddie. He was always taking extra shifts at work. He didn’t want to be around Eddie. He didn’t want Eddie, outgrew him in the course of weeks, maybe months if Eddie just hadn’t noticed in the beginning, but, it just…they were amazing, one minute. Perfect.

And then they…weren’t.

“He, I mean, it,” and Eddie grabs at his hair and hides behind it, because all of that’s true, all of what he saw and felt and lost in his relationship with Steve before it stopped: it’s accurate.

But then there’s…everything Dustin’s saying. And…Steve was pulling away from him, turning away from him, but did he…was he seeing Robin, or only at work? Was he seeing the rest of the Party?

“He was,” Eddie tries to find a throughway to follow but he’s too distracted because…was Steve sleeping before Eddie stopped coming to bed at all, because everything he tried wasn’t enough, because it was breaking him to keep lying there and not just be ignored, but be actively avoided? Was he…had Steve not been eating regularly, before Eddie left—

Wait.

Eddie…Eddie didn’t leave. He went to Wayne’s, the home that wasn’t the one Steve grew up in, when he needed to get more clothes. It was getting too cold, and since he’d basically moved in with Steve right out of the hospital and never really moved out, he’d been migrating what had survived the old trailer little by little as needed and so he’d…he’d gone to get things.

He’d broken down when his uncle asked him what was wrong, said he looked like someone ran over his cat.

More like his heart, but. Same idea.

And then he’d…he’d been scared. He’d called the house to try and ask Steve when he wanted Eddie to come back, because he’d wondered after telling Wayne everything—and hearing him talk about what it was like coming back from war for some of his buddies—if Steve just needed some space: but the line had rang and rang and rang. Didn’t even grab the machine.

And Eddie had…Eddie had cried so fucking hard he could have sworn he’d busted something in his eye. But…but…

never gonna leave you all alone again

He gasps to himself when the words run lightning quick through his head, and his heart clenches fucking hard.

Did…did Eddie, did he go and…and leave Steve…

Did he leave his Stevie alone?

No. No, it was, Eddie never wanted to keep his distance.

Eddie doesn’t stay awake to all hours staring the the ceiling while his body reels at what it knows it’s missing because he wants to. He doesn’t jolt awake lamenting that emptiness because he likes it, whenever his consciousness drifts in fitful bursts that he doesn’t feel like he deserves, because while he’d maybe been slinking back to lick his wounds when he went to Wayne’s, he would never have even thought to do this own his own, to be estranged.

Though all of those things aren’t without the parasitic leech of a thought on the side: he told you to leave with everything but words, and only that because he stopped taking at all.

But…but Eddie can’t live with Steve hurting. And maybe Steve doesn’t want him, doesn’t love him like that anymore. But Eddie thought of him as his friend, even if they never had a space between where they were just friends and not everything.

And it sounds like maybe Steve could use a friend. Maybe he doesn’t want Eddie for that either, but. Eddie’s kinda in agony at just the thought of the picture Dustin’s been painting.

“It’s Christmas,” Dustin takes that unspoken cue to pipe back up; “like, I just,” and he ends on a note of straight-up entreaty, damn close to pleading:

“Fix it, man.”

And Eddie…

Eddie doesn’t think he’s wanted, in general. Certainly not to be the one who fixes…anything.

But a nice chunk of his heart is with this man who is apparently hurting, and Eddie’s soul-certain love is fixed on him, probably for the rest of fucking time, so.

He’s sitting here being unwanted already.

Won’t hurt to try; can’t possibly end up worse.

for @kultiras🖤

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melded-galaxy · 3 days ago

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sonic movie 3 stobotnik thoughts:

Watched the third installment earlier today and have a lot of thoughts

Likes:

Stone being confirmed as the protector in their relationship (His action scene in the chao garden restaurant and his plea 'i'm not there to protect you!') was amazing, you can definitely tell Stone had been traumatized after Robotnik got stranded in the mushroom world and then returned only to nearly fall to his death

'I already lost you once-!' 'Unsubscribed blocked and reported.' 'I can't lose you again...' Stone you deserve the world and so much better than Robotnik i'm sorry your hearts deadset on this dickhead <3

Robotnik's first name Ivo being dropped several times and pronounced eye-vo rather than ee-vo. always preferred the eye-vo pronounciation personally, feel like ee-vo is a bit too on the nose and doesn't sound as good.

Robotnik being open enough around Stone at the very start of the movie that he casually mentions that Stone is the only person he trusts and at the very end after he thought he found loving family only to be rejected and betrayed by Gerald admitting Stone was the only one to ever truly care about him my heart can't

More of the weird kinky BDSM shit my beloved - Eggman's reaction to seeing a shirtless tied up Stone 'Do that in your own time you sicken me' sent me as did the frigging shirt snatch and of course that glorious haircut scene

Stone getting to interact with characters that aren't Eggman. Him calling Tails adorable and that short moment where he hung out with Shadow was nice to see.

Again the haircut scene. Stone had zero excuses for straddling his bosses lap and nearly strangling him in a chokehold. Firestarter by Prodigy playing was just the cherry on top.

Stone getting cucked again by Robotnik's own grandpapa. First knuckles now sour gramps smh there's always a damn third wheel

Robotnik finally finding family and just CLINGING to them (quite literally the boot kissing scene was... something.) Ivo was so desperate for Gerald's love and approval, its such a great parallel to Stone's admiration for Robotnik. Honestly it makes sense that Robotnik immediately reacted so defensively when Stone warned him of Gerald and Shadows hidden plan, like Robotnik immediately reacted by attacking Stone back by accusing him of just being jealous because he felt his bond with gerald was being threatened. Robotnik even looked over at Gerald several times while he was chewing Stone out, clearly seeking his approval.

Eggman's announcement dedicated fully to Stone after three whole movies of Robotnik taking Stone for granted and Stone being ditched berated and sidelined. Finally after feeling the pain of Gerald's rejection (that 'You're no Maria' was ice cold) Ivo in his last moments alive makes sure Stone knows he reciprocates and pays tribute to Stone's love and loyalty to him, admitting that Stone was more than just a sycophant, a tool to be used and discarded, Stone was a 'syco-friend'. my HEART

That final 'I love the way you make 'em' the delivery was so heartfelt

Stone's tearful smile after saying goodbye to Robotnik. There's a sort of sad acceptance to it like finally hearing Robotnik admit that he does care about him too softens the blow of losing him and will help Stone to move on post movie. Maybe Stone after Robotnik's death with find someone that truly treats him right. A lot of people speculate that Stone will be the big bad of the next film but I don't know, I think in an interview by Lee he said that Stone just wanted to feel acknowledged by Robotnik and in the end Stone finally got that. I feel like its a good bookend for both Robotnik and Stone's characters arcs and i'd have mixed feelings if they were confirmed to appear in the next movie; while i'd love to see more of Robotnik and Stone's twisted dynamic in the next movie, I feel like it'd sort of undermine Robotnik's final moment of humanity at the end of movie 3. Then again someone has to have made and been controlling the metal sonics we saw in the post credit scene so who knows what the next movie will bring.

Dislikes:

Stone only getting like 6-7 minutes of screen time, I would have like a few more scenes with him interacting with Robotnik Gerald and other characters to flesh him out a bit more, maybe even learn more of his backstory. I felt like this was also a problem with Maria and Gerald; both needed a bit more time to flesh out their characters. It would have been cool to see more of Gerald and Maria before Maria's death for instance.

The movie steering away from the romantic subtext that was present in the second movie (the lattes with hearts, the romantic music playing in Stone's cafe and Stone photoshopping his boss into a maid outfit) in favour of a more platonic or atleast debatable dynamic between them - Stone being sad about not being Robotnik's 'best friend', Robotnik calling Stone his syco-friend and no outright explicit confirmation from either of them was kind of sad to see. Felt like there was potential to openly confirm stobotnik in a romantic if twisted relationship, especially given the two lived together for over a year in their crab mech and were clearly comfortable around eachother, but I guess maybe the producers were too nervous of backlash to do so so they went with a more dubious/platonic angle.

Robotnik immediately treating Stone worse once he connects with Gerald :( I suppose it makes sense; Ivo now has this shiny new family connection,from his selfish perspective why would he need boring old but reliable Stone but it still was sad to see Robotnik completely disregard everything Stone had done for him - staying by his side after leaving the government, doting on him and rescuing/caring for Robotnik after the latter fell from the giant mech in the second movie (not shown in the movie only storyboards but still presumably Stone was the one to rescue Robotnik). Personally i'd have preferred it if there was a bit more conflict from Robotnik's side, maybe have Gerald manipulate him into steadily distructing Stone more and more as the movie went on.

Stone not getting a scene where he snaps at Robotnik/shows a backbone. Yes he tried to to warn Robotnik of Gerald and Shadow's real plans for the world but again that was mostly for Robotnik's own wellbeing. Stone was terrified of losing him. It would have been nice to see after 3 movies of Stone being a doormat for Robotnik Stone finally erupt and stand up to Ivo.

Stone disappearing from the plot at the climax of the film AGAIN, a reoccuring theme in the trilogy lol, Stone disappears from the plot after Robotnik tells him to ready the prototype in the first movie and again in the second, though to a lesser extent, after he was knocked out in the mech. It would have been cool to see him do a little more, maybe aid Robotnik Tails and Knuckles in stopping Gerald in some way instead of merely being a bystander.

Similarly to the second movie I feel like Jimbotnik and now Gerald were a bit TOO zany at times. Like the scene at their first meeting when they both looked at the camera and broke the fourth wall made me groan and god... the Ivo vs Gerald fight was... bad and not even in a so bad its good way way more a killing the pacing and tension way. Like why why put the jim carrey selfspank scene right after Sonic and Shadow had a heart to heart on the moon. Why.

Robotnik's overuse of modern slang also made me wince a bit... didn't like it in the second movie don't like it anymore in the third. I found some of the quips funny like the trauma dumping line but most of the times I felt the jokes were pandering too much to kids and would age badly.

No scene where Wade once again awkwardly third wheels while Robotnik and Stone be weird together again :(

THE FLASHBACK SCENE BEING CUT :'( In the leaked storyboards Robotnik was going to a have a sort of 'feelings realization' moment where he presumably contemplates why he's bothering to save the Earth. A flashback was going to appear showing the scene where Stone gives Robotnik his latte after the latter returned in movie 2, Stone in his GUN disguise rescuing Robotnik after the latter was trapped under the rubble of his mech post movie 2 and a scene where a concerned looking Stone is handfeeding Robotnik soup complete with Robotnik looking depressed in a full body cast. The final storyboard picture showed a wide eyed and concerned Robotnik clearly realizing that Earth being destroyed would mean Stone was going to die as well. The flashback and Stone's life being on the line was what would have prompted Robotnik to try to save the planet. The flashback and feelings realization scene was cut for some reason from the final film :( Think I still have the leaked storyboard images somewhere on my blog but we were robbed.

Well this got longer than expected haha, hope its somewhat coherent.

#sonic movie #sonic movie 3 #sonic 3 #sonic the hedgehog #stobotnik #jimbotnik #agent stone #dr robotnik #dr eggman #eggman #ivo robotnik #sonic cinematic universe #gerald robotnik #my post #sonic movie 3 spoilers

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pasteldreams · 18 hours ago

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loverboy!matt for winter/ christmas...

buys you matching sweatshirts and christmas pjs

would never let you leave the house without a jacket because you might catch a cold

carries your jacket when it gets too warm

has an extra hoodie in his car for when your clothes aren’t warm enough

buys your gifts at least a month in advance

and there’s A LOT of gifts…

that man is spoiling you

remember that one thing you said was cute one time? no? well, matt does and now it’s yours

clothes, shoes, jewelry, perfumes, items based on your interests, everything

if you have pets, he would totally buy them gifts too

“they needed a new toy” “they didn’t need 10, matt…” “baby, i couldn’t pick just one”

asks his brothers if they think you’ll like the gifts he bought

“are you sure she’ll like them?” “dude, you’ve asked us the same fucking question every day for weeks, the answer is still yes” “but she’s so special to me, what if-“ “oh my GOD. we get it, you love her. your gifts are great, now shut the fuck up”

would cry if you gave him anything homemade as a gift

every holiday, matt writes you a love letter that he hides in one of the gift boxes

invites you over to watch christmas movies but just ends up staring at you the whole time

“dude, you’re kinda freakin’ me out” “did you know you’re really pretty?”

would take you ice skating

would probably tear up if you ended up getting hurt on the ice

“why are you crying? i’m the one with the twisted ankle” “i’m the reason you got hurt” “no, baby, the ice is the reason i got hurt”

would pull a picture of mistletoe up on his phone to hold above your heads

“you know what that means!” “i don’t think that’s how it works, sweet boy” “can’t you just pretend? for me? pleeease”

would take you on late night drives to look at christmas lights

“when we buy a house together, can we decorate it for the holidays?” “you wanna buy a house together?” “duh, maybe right before we get married” “married?!” “yeah, you’re stuck with me forever, my love”

would "forget" to turn the heater on at night so that you have to cuddle him for warmth

a/n: just a quick thing i whipped up today, enjoy and happy holidays!

🏷️ taglist: @y3sterdaysproblem

reply/msg/inbox to be added to the taglist!

teddy bear divider by @dollywons and gingerbread divider by @issysh3ll

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #the drawing board 𓂃🖊#matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fluff #lover boy #loverboy!matt sturniolo #fluffmas #christmas fluff #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #dividers not mine

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ifonlyyuweremine · 8 hours ago

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Call of Christmas

Aka the holiday season with 141

COD characters x F reader (One shots!) + smut

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧

Captain John Price smut

You hurriedly raced through chores, much like being put on a continuous autopilot. Throw the tabs of detergent into the laundry while making sure to separate the light and dark clothes. Put the leftover dishes from the sink inside the dishwasher, vacuum up the collecting fuzz that started to gather on the carpet, and so on.

However, the most important task was yet to be done. Pushed to the edge of your to-due list and collect dust.

Wrapping the presents.

Dear lord. Where would you even start, not only was gift wrapping the most tedious task on earth but most of the time it had a 98% chance of going wrong.

How could such a jolly and festive activity as simply wrapping a gift turn into the worst part of the holiday season? In your case, surprisingly easily.

It was a guessing game on your part, to figure out which wrapping paper to adorn a present in (different wrapping paper for different people of course). Cut the perfect measurements for said gift, and wrap it in some way that would look presentable.

Almost every time you would screw up the last two steps, the cutting and wrapping. You would either cut way too much paper or not enough to cover the gift. And when you finally did get an acceptable length the paper would fold every which way and the tape wouldn't hold it down.

Now, why not go with the simple fix of putting it inside of a gift bag? The short answer was that it was the lazy man's way out.

And this year you were determined to make it work. Your husband John always teased you about your passion for the holidays, but what could you say? You were a driven woman.

So you found yourself near the end of the day sitting inside the living room of your house. A diverse spread of gifts scattered around you beside poles of wrapping paper, tape, scissors, and rulers.

The soft thrum of Christmas music playing in the background for motivation. You were especially proud of the gifts you had gotten this year. One for each of your friends, close family, and John. Having a good gift for him was something to behold on its own. Gift shopping for the man was like pulling out teeth.

“Why would I want anything? I pretty much have everything I need…”

“I’m okay love, don't bother with me…”

“I don't want anything, maybe some socks or something…”

John's words echoed in your ear, but you weren't giving up that easily. This year, you landed on a nice silver watch with a leather band. The one he wore was…distressed to say the least.

So, this seemed like a great choice. You smiled down at the small box that held his new watch. John would love anything you got him, even if it was a scrap of metal he would give you his teddy bear smile and shower you with praise.

But this year you were particularly proud of your choice.

And with the newfound motivation you started on wrapping. You did your best to cut accurate ratios of paper to present, fold it as crisply as you could, and tape it down so it stuck. Somehow, by the grace of God, you found yourself getting into a sort of rhythm.

You looked at work after an hour in, in awe of the fact that it wasn't that bad. Actually, it was nearly perfect! These looked like real gifts, like the ones you'd see in those Christmas catalogs sitting under an 11-foot-tall tree.

You smiled, only one gift left to go. Lo and behold it was John’s gift. The small blue box that hid his watch, looked so menial. You sighed and stretched, easy peasy.

Or so you thought.

That little blue box might as well have been possessed by a Christmas-hating demon.

You huffed, silently cursing at yourself as you accidentally ripped the wrapping paper while you were trying to tape it down. This had been your fifth attempt at wrapping his gift, and every time something had gone wrong.

You stared down at it in disbelief, nearly in tears of frustration. There the box sat, laughing at your feeble attempts at wrapping it.

Just as you were about to go for attempt number six, you heard the chime of the front door opening. It was John.

Like a flash, you pushed the box under the couch until it was out of sight. It was a surprise after all. Just as you turned back around John appeared in all his glory. Slack jeans with his cotton t-shirt and his ruggedly handsome face. His eyebrows raised at the scene before him.

“Love, I think you're supposed to wrap the gifts, not get into a fight with them.” He said, bemused.

You felt your already hot cheeks redden, looking at the mess of wrapping paper around you. It did kind of look like a war scene with the addition of glitter and ribbon. Letting out an exasperated sigh you looked back up at him. “Would you believe me if I told you they started it?”

John's lips curved up into a soft smile that raised his mutton chops. And you couldn't help your heart from swooning at the way his mustache smiled with him. He chuckled and stepped into the room, crouching in front of you to slide a hand across your cheek. Pulling you in for a warm, chaste kiss. Your frustration slightly ebbed away, yet the lingering annoyance remained. John seemed to notice it and gave you a funny look as he pulled away.

“What's wrong?” He said knowing.

Curse him, he knew you too well. You knew giving him a bad lie wouldn't do much so you sighed. “It’s the gifts, I was doing so well wrapping everything but I got to yours and it didn't seem to want to cooperate with me. And well, you can see how it played out.” You breathed, nodding to the mess around you.

John raised an eyebrow, “why not just give it to me as is?” He asked, confused. To which you rolled your eyes as his practicality, typical.

“That’s not the point. Making presents look nice is a labor of love, it shows I care to make it look presentable.” You defended your point, making him shake his head and smile warmly. A fondness in his eyes as he looked at you.

“Baby, you know I know that you care about me. I don't need wrapping paper to prove that.” He said, his other hand guiding yours to his mouth to press his lips over your ring.

You pursed your lips in a tight line, trying not to let him melt your resolve into a sappy puddle. “Yeah, but it's still a nice gesture.” You grumbled, eyes darting away from his gaze.

You heard the familiar thrum of his laugh echo in your ears. You turned your eyes back to look at him as he pressed a kiss to your temple, “Thank you for trying love. You know I’d like anything you’d give me. But having you is all I need.” You couldn't help the smile that crept up on your cheeks.

For being such an intimidating person and having the reputation he did, he could really be a sap sometimes. Not that you'd have it any other way. His loving nature was a gift in itself.

You hummed and leaned in to kiss him again, his lips meeting yours in a soft embrace. Slowly you pulled him in, hands snaking around his neck to cup the back of his head. He tasted of tobacco and whiskey, not the bitter kind, but the warm fragrant kind. Almost like a spicy cocktail, one that burned at first sip but settled in your stomach.

It was almost second nature when you kissed him. Like your body craved the feeling of being fitted against his larger form. And when his tongue slid over your bottom lip, practically begging for entrance, you had no choice but to oblige.

The soft hum of Christmas jazz still lulled in the background, dulling your senses like sweet syrup. John’s tongue delved into your mouth, the slow rhythmic motion of his lips turning the thoughts in your head to static. His large hands slowly traveled down to your waist, his thumb pressing against the bone of your hip. Without warning his hands suddenly airlifted you up and onto the couch. You gave a small squeak of surprise, breaking the kiss.

“John wha-” You were cut off by another steaming kiss.

After a minute he pulled away, hot breath fanning against your lips. “You were working so hard, figured I'd give you a thank you.” His sly smile told you everything you needed to know. And if they didn’t, the way his hands slid down to grope on your ass did.

Your cheeks burned, and another type of heat bellowed in your stomach. Sending small sparks across your spine. “It's just wrapping a gift, and I didn't even finish yours.” You said sheepishly.

John rolled his eyes, his head dipping down to trail kisses over your neck. “What was it you said before? That it’s about the gesture or principle of it all?” He murmured, large hands kneading your behind. His words made your lips turn up into a smile. To be honest…you could use a break, and this opportunity was one you’d never turn down.

A small giggle escaped you, rolling your eyes at his persistence. “I guess I’ll take that ‘thank you’ then.”

Turning his head back up, he gave you a wolfish grin. The large hands that previously held your behind slid up to hook the hem of your top. With one fluid movement, he coaxed your arms above your head and slipped your blouse off. Then with just as much sneakiness, he undid the clasp of your bra. Tossing the offending garment somewhere else in the room.

Without a moment to lose, his mouth was on your breasts. You shuddered at his warm wet tongue and the way it danced around your nipple. The scruff of his facial hair tickles Your chest.

Your hands threaded into his hair, pulling and guiding him where you wanted. With every small tug or grasp he groaned, enthralled by the way you led him. From where you were sitting, John knelt at the edge of the couch between your spread legs. Hands gripping at your hips as he suckled at your peaks. “So beautiful baby-” He rasped, “-fucking love this gorgeous body.”

Your lips pushed into a tight line, exhaling through your nose. John’s hands migrated down to grab onto your pants, tugging them down slowly. You helped him slip them off until the only thing covering you was your cotton panties. An embarrassingly obvious wet patch now soaking through its fabric.

John’s thumb gently grazed over your clothed center. Earning a soft moan on your part, the pad of his finger sending a jolt of heat through you. His navy eyes flickered up to you as his thumb slowly circled your covered clit. “Tell me what you want sweetness.” He murmured.

You had trouble processing his words for a moment. “I want your fingers, John.” You breathed, looking down at the man on his knees for you.

The corner of his lip turned up, “Yes mam.” Slowly he pulled your panties to the side, exposing your glistening core. You saw his adams apple bob as he stared at you, like he wanted to devour you alive.

With his middle and ring finger, he dragged them through your lips. Coating the skin in a layer of slick, the lewd sound of it makes your ears turn red. “Look at this wet pussy, so needy.” John gruffed. With no warning, he gently pushed his middle inside you. Your walls constricted around him like a hungry snake.

Your lips fell open in an ‘oh shape, whimpering at the burning goodness of his finger. “Fuckfuckfuck-” You panted, the muscles in your legs flexing as you tensed.

With ease, he pushed his ring finger into you as well. Falling into a slow rhythm of pumping his fingers in and out of you coupled with his thumb brushing over your clit. Your brain felt foggy, like how a bathroom mirror fogs up when you take a hot shower. John watched you like a hawk, studying your every movement to see if you were enjoying it.

“John, need your cock now.” You panted breathlessly, impatient for your husband. He gave you an amused look, keeping his fingers at a steady pace.

“You sure?” He asked, bemused. “-I can wait sweetheart.” But you shook your head, desperate for the stretch of his dick.

You blinked and gave him a look, “I'm not asking.” You replied. Making him chuckle, his fingers sliding out of you and leaving an empty feeling in their wake. He stood up, tugging off his shirt and unzipping his trousers. All the while, you watched like it was your favorite TV show. Your eyes drank in his muscles, he was built for fighting, that was for sure.

His pants shrugged down as he pulled his briefs away with it. His large bulbous cock sprang free, the sight almost making you drool. John smiled at you as he wrapped a calloused hand around it, stroking. “Makin’ me feel special when you look at me like that.” He said, giving his dick a few more pumps of his hand.

He nodded at you, “Go ahead and lay back, I want to look at your face when I make you cum.” He said, the words ringing in your ears. You tried not the let the giddy smile show on your face as you nodded and fell back against the cushions. Hastily, he climbed up on the couch, caging you in with his body. Hands planted on either side of your head.

He gave you a knowing smile before using one hand to guide his cock against your slit. Slowly dragging it up and down, making your breath hitch. Fireworks already going off inside your brain.

He leaned back a tad, using his other free hand to stroke your thigh, patting it lightly. “Come on, raise these for me love, want them on my shoulders.” You did as you were told, hiking your legs up on his shoulders. His head was encased by the meat of your thighs and the tip of his cock pushed against your aching hole.

With John’s guidance, he slowly pushed into you. The entrance of his thick cock fills up every crevice in your walls, making you moan. He was right there with you, “bloody hell-” he grit out. His voice was strained and thick like syrup.

“Tell me-” He panted, “-Tell me I can move. Please.” He breathed, voice barely above a whisper. You swallowed, your body burned and ached, yet it felt so good at the same time. And you craved more of it. So much more.

You nodded, “Yes, please.” Per your request, John slowly started to move his hips. His hands are placed on either side of your head and your thighs are locked around his head. The further he pushed into you the more you felt like being folded in half.

Slowly, his cock dragged in and out of your walls only to plunge back in. You moaned and threw your head back into the cushions, a shivering running through you. Every time his thick tip pressed against the spongy bundle of nerves deep inside you, your walls tightened as if to hold him in.

“Fuck, that's it- so tight and wet, like this pussy was made for me.” John groaned, steadily increasing the speed and force of his thrusts. Every time he pushed himself back in you felt like seeing stars. The delicious pleasure of feeling his girthy dick drag against your walls and stuff you full was something you could never get used to. Every time it felt a new shade of amazing.

Soon, his thrusts had gone from slow and drawn out to fast-paced slaps of skin against skin. Your hands dragged against his back, leaving trails of red lines in their wake.

A familiar coil began to burn in your stomach, tightening by the minute. Your head was swimming as you let him mold you to the shape of his cock. “John- can’t hold it, I'm gonna cum soon.” You sputtered.

His response was to only increase the force of his thrusts. Snaking a hand down to your clit and rubbing his thumb in circles around the sensitive bud. You jolted, clamping down around him which in turn caused him to twitch and pulse. “S’okay love I know, I'm right there with you. Let me make you cum, cum on my cock.” He moaned.

The white-hot pleasure turned to burning magma as he played with your clit. Waves of euphoria crashing down on you like a violent tide. Your pussy spasmed and your body went taunt like a bow. John fucked you through it until his orgasm took hold of him. His cock twitched and his hips stuttered, flooding your walls with thick ropes of cum. After a few more forceful thrusts he let up, holding you still as you both came down from the high.

A few seconds later he slid out of you, carefully lowering your legs off his shoulders. “Merry Christmas love.” He breathed with a wolfish smile, a hint of humor in his voice. You hummed, blinking your eyes open just as he pressed a warm kiss to your temple.

A soft chuckle escaped you, still caught in the afterglow. Your hands gently carded through his slightly tousled hair, “Merry Christmas John.”

He smiled, raising his head to look around. Unsurprisingly the room was still a mess of wrapping paper and ribbon. “Guess it falls on me to clean this up eh?” He said knowingly.

You smiled back, “Yep.”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧

Simon Ghost Riley Hurt-comfort

For most, Christmas time was a season of giving. It meant spending time with the ones you loved and putting the cheer back into the more depressing months of winter. It also meant engaging in bonding activities like ice skating or decorating the tree for Christmas, maybe even baking cookies.

For others, including Simon Riley, Christmas was a bitter reminder of what they lacked. It wasn't a cookie-cutter checklist for everyone, but the brunt of it was a lack of Christmas cheer, connection, or lack of loved ones to spend the holidays with. And for Simon, it was all three.

Out of every holiday, Christmas was a loathsome one. It felt as if everyone in the world was brimming with happiness while he was cast out into the dark. Like dangling a shiny new toy in a dog's face knowing that said toy would never be given to it.

So what did he do? What he does best. He closed himself off from the world. During the holiday season, Simon often felt more Ghost than he felt like Simon. After all, it was easier to disassociate and pretend he was Ghost again than to face the bitter memories that Simon went through.

But this year was different, why? Because this year he was spending Christmas with you.

It took a lot of convincing on your end, but he eventually settled for spending the week through Christmas at your flat. Which for him, was a big step. He had stayed over multiple times and vice versa, but considering he never spent Christmas with anyone was saying a lot.

It wasn't even until a year ago that Simon told you the whole story of why he disliked Christmas. By that time both of you had mutually understood that your relationship had shifted from casual dating to a more long-term and serious one.

So now you were determined to make this Christmas a good experience for him. Which turned out to be no easy task. But for your boyfriend, there wasn't anything you weren't willing to do.

It started with small festive activities like taking him to a park to see the Christmas lights. Or letting him pick out the shirt that he had been eyeing as an early gift. Your personal favorite had been getting him to help set up and decorate the small Christmas tree you kept in the living room.

Slowly but surely, he was beginning to assimilate with the Christmas spirit. You had even managed to get him to sit down and watch Home Alone!

Things were finally starting to look up…until now. Christmas Eve.

It was as if all the progress you had made vanished in an instant. Almost like he turned into a Ghost. He had barely said a word to you, didn't want to go out, wasn't eating, and was avoiding you. Simon was hauled up in your room and had been there for most of the day. The only time he had gone out was to smoke from your doorstep. Despite your comments about not liking his smoking or coming inside and eating he brushed it off with a grunt.

He had effectively barricaded himself in his mind. And you were sick of it, sick of the secrets, the going non-verbal with little to no explanation, and sick of the fact that he didn't trust you enough to tell you what was going on in his head.

Enough was enough, so you walked up to your bedroom door and knocked a few times. As expected there was no answer, so you pushed it open. Greeting you was Simon, sitting on the edge of your bed, looking down at his skull mask. You had only seen it a few times, not wanting to invade his privacy. Simon was a large proponent of keeping his work and personal life separate.

And why wouldn't he? His work was violent, it was the worst of what humanity had to offer. And you were none of those things. He mentioned to you once that his mask allowed him to be someone else, so that way when he did come back from deployments Simon wasn't the one with blood on his hands.

In other words, to your understanding, the mask was a mentality. A place holder that could do things that the Simon you knew couldn't.

You bit down on the inside of your cheek, carefully making your way over. You climbed up on the bed behind him, till you were knelt facing his large back. Gently you slid your hands around his waist, pressing the side of your face to his spine in a soft hug. You swallowed, an underlying nervousness boiling deep inside you.

“Please talk to me, I can't know how to help if you don't tell me.” You whispered into him, a soft plead.

He didn't respond for a good minute, and a part of you feared that he was just going to brush you off like before. Eventually, he did respond, except it wasn't the response you wanted. “I think I should go back to my place in Manchester. Just for a few days.”

You frowned, this wasn't what you wanted. Not at all. You had been making such good progress too, you didn't understand how it could all reverse in a second. “Simon that's not fair, you at least need to tell me why. You've been silent all day and now you want to leave? You promised you'd stay until Christmas was over.”

Simon turned a bit to look at you, shrugging your hands off of him. The warm look he always had when he looked at you now long gone. “I know what I said. But I told you that I don't spend the holidays with anyone, you knew that.”

Your hands bawled on your thighs, “But- just yesterday you were fine. I don't understand what changed.” You said eyebrows knitting together.

His eyes narrowed, “Then have you considered maybe I just don't want to be around you?” He said, his tone harsh and unforgiving. A knife to your heart. You stared at him in silence, shocked that he would say something like that so brazenly.

Your lips pursed into a thin line, trying to regain your composure. “If you don't want to be around me then tell me, don't ignore me for half the day like a child.” The hands that held his skull mask tightened, bunching up the fabric in his grip.

“Alright, I'm sorry. Happy now?” Simon couldn't have been less sincere even if he tried. Yet another stab to your chest.

You shook your head no, “Of course I'm not happy. You're not telling me anything, I’m trying to listen and understand you but you're just shutting me out. It's like you barely trust me at all.” You said sternly.

Simon pinched the bridge of his nose. You watched how his face scrunched in irritation, the bags under his eyes sticking out like a sore thumb. “I do trust you, but…I’m just not ready.” He said irritably.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “Not ready? Not ready for what?”

“For you, for this-” Simon snapped, gesturing to the air around him. “-fucking caring about somebody. Because every time I have it’s ended up like shite, I don't even know if I can. Or if I ever will.” He said, his voice brimming with a flurry of emotions. Ones you couldn't decipher, but you were still hung up on the meaning of his words. You knelt there, a cold wave washing over you that felt like ice.

He went on, “You shouldn't even want what I am [Name]. I know you think you do but you don't.”

You shook your head, a lump developing in your throat. “Yes, I do-” You tried weakly, your limbs starting to numb up and grow cold.

Simon stood up, turning his back to you. Walking over to the large overnight bag he had packed, kneeling, and started to take clothes that were scattered near it and shove them inside. You felt your stomach drop, clambering off the bed to stop him. Grabbing onto his suitcase and ripping it away to keep it behind your back.

“Simon tell me what’s going on.” You demanded, your voice suddenly raw.

Simon's eyes were wide, the brown pools of warmth replaced by a dark abyss. Looking up at you with surprise and anger. He stood up, towering over you with his massive frame. Almost like an intimidation tactic. He looked scary.

Slowly he outstretched an open palm, deadly silent. “I'm not going to ask you again, give me my things.”

You shook your head, taking a few steps back until you were pressed against your closet door. Blinking away tears into the back of your head, “No. Tell me what’s going on.” Your hands holding his suitcase with an iron grip behind your back.

His eyebrows furrowed, jaw working in frustration. The veins in his neck tensed for a moment. Almost without thinking his outstretched hand seized forward to grasp your arm, yanking you away from the wall with an alarming force. The suitcase dropped on the floor as he tore you away and you stumbled forward.

You made a noise, one akin to the sound a small animal would make before it was eaten. His grip on your arm was hard by any means, but the minute you made eye contact with him again he broke off. His hand released you like he had been burned by a hot iron, terror written across his face.

He looked more horrified than you did, looking between you and his hand like it was somebody else’s. The silence between you was so loud it rang in your ears.

You felt something wet trail down your cheeks. When did you start crying? You didn't know. You looked back at your boyfriend, he had looked so big before but now he only looked scared. You raised your hands as if you were approaching a wild animal. “Simon-” You breathed, “-It’s okay. I'm okay, you didn't hurt me.”

He didn't say anything, basically frozen in time. You walked up to him, praying he didn't walk back. Thankfully, he didn't. Gently, you cupped his face, forcing him to look down at you. “Please.” You pleaded, “-Tell me whats going on. That's all I ask, if you still want to go after, you can.” You breathed hoarsely.

You watched his face, how it was so full of uncertainty and fear. His bottom lip quivered lightly, “I’m so sorry.” He said, “-I didn't mean…I wasn't thinking.”

You gently rubbed a thumb over his cheek, trying to soothe him to the best of your ability. “I know you didn't mean to, you're not your dad Simon. I'm not worried about that, what I am worried about is you just getting up and leaving because you decided that I don't matter to you anymore.” You said, trying to remain firm to the best of your ability. Even when your voice was quivering and you felt like sobbing.

Simon shook his head, “What? Of course, you matter to me.” He breathed, shaky hands still at his side.

“Well, that's not what it looks like from my perspective. You just said you wanted to leave, you said you didn't think you could ever fully care about me.” You said, looking up at him.

His eyes scanned your face, “I know I'm sorry- I'm… fuck love, I'm scared. I'm scared of caring about you as much as I do, whenever I do it just…” He swallowed, “My mom, and Tommy…they're gone and I can't get them back, and if you leave I have nothing. Because you took everything,” He breathed.

“-You already have me, every part of me that I wanted you to see and every part of me that I don't. And that scares the shite out of me, and I try to keep pushing and pushing but you keep coming back to me.” You felt his hands on your face, large calloused palms warm against your cheeks. “Because that's just how you are, you're good. And I thought by creating more distance you'd see that.”

You opened your mouth but he cut you off, “-And this week you worked so hard, just for me. To give me a good experience,” Simon laughed bitterly. “And here I am, barely keeping my shite together.”

You frowned, “Simon.” You cut him off, your voice stern. He stopped, looking at you. “You don't tell me what I can and can't do, nobody does but me. So if you think you have any chance of convincing me to leave you're mad. I want this, I want you. No matter what baggage you come with.”

There was a moment of silence, filled with a thick tension that you could cut with a knife before he pulled you in. Pressing your face against his chest, cradling your head against him. Holding you tight as if you'd disappear if he let go. Your hands wrapped around his back, digging into the cotton of his shirt and inhaling his scent. One of cigarette smoke and pine. His face pressed into the top of your head.

It was intimate, emotions running high, and the force of his embrace. For a while, you stayed that way, grounded by the large arms that held you to his chest. “I’m so sorry, I should've told you from the beginning.” He whispered into the top of your head, his voice that of genuine remorse.

You knew that this wasn't the end all be all of his problems. Just because he addressed things did not mean everything was magically solved. But it was a big step in the right direction. You maneuvered your head up to look at him, chin pressed against his chest.

“I told you that I wanted to make this a good Christmas, for both of us.” You said, “-If you'll let me, I think we can still make the most of it.”

Simon stared at you, his lips settling in a relieved smile. “Yeah.” He breathed, “I wouldn't have it any other way.”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧

Kyle Gaz Garrick Fluff

Your room was a complete mess. Clothes were thrown about like a tornado had taken your closet and dispensed its content for everyone to see. But the state of your room was the last thing you could focus on. Because you had thirty minutes until your neighbor two doors down would pick you up for a date.

You felt your cheeks just redden at the thought. A date! Especially with your very hot and very out-of-your-league neighbor Kyle.

You groaned, tossing yet another shirt on your bed. Nothing seemed to fit as it should've, what was one even supposed to wear on a date? It was December so obviously crop tops and shorts were off-limits. You nervously chewed on your nails, cursing at yourself immediately after for forgetting they were painted.

As you slipped on something acceptable (a nice pair of jeans and a coat), you made a beeline for your bathroom. You looked in the mirror, taking a few minutes to look over your makeup for the umpteenth time. Then moving over to fix your hair, tweaking it here and there, and maybe smoothing out the few strays.

You didn't even understand how you got into this predicament, it was all a blur. Kyle had just gotten back from deployment, a normal occurrence, and being the good neighbor you were, you brought him food. (Who wants to cook after they just get home from a long trip anyway?) And being the gentleman he was, he invited you inside. However, due to your inability to act normally around hot men, you panicked and refused.

Swearing up and down that he was probably exhausted and didn't need you to disturb his peace and quiet. You cringed just imaging how red your face must've been.

Instead of taking the hint like a normal person, he doubled down.

“Oh, okay then, why don't you let me take you out sometime as a thank you?”

After that, you were too stunned to say anything so you just shut up and nodded your head. And now you're here, standing in front of the mirror fretting over your appearance like a teenage girl.

You had zero idea where he was taking you. Which, in theory, was cute. But you were so anxiety-ridden that you couldn't find the time to look into it. And just as you were clumsily slipping on your shoes you heard the dreaded knock on your front door. You whirled through your apartment, opening the door with a little (a lot) too much force.

Standing there like a male supermodel was Kyle. Clad in worn-out jeans that he somehow pulled off, a flannel, and a jacket. He smiled, his perfect teeth adding to his handsome charm. “Hey,” He said, looking at you up and down. “-You look great as always.”

You wanted to die, just looking at him was like staring at a beacon of light. But for the sake of your social skills, you forced yourself to respond. “Thanks-” You breathed, trying to smile as normally as you could. “-Uhm you look great too.”

Kyle smiled, the dimples in his cheeks growing more prominent. “Thanks, I appreciate it, love.” He said, looking behind you and then back to you. “-I’m ready when you are, but take your time. We’re not in a rush.” He said casually, hands in his jean pockets.

You nodded, “Oh right- let me just grab my purse.” You breathed, doing a 360 to run back to your kitchen counter and swipe your bag from off the surface. Quickly making a run back towards him, stepping outside “Ready!” You said, trying to work up as much confidence as you could. To which Kyle chuckled, reaching behind you to close the door.

After the initial stress of stepping out the door, Kyle led you out of the complex. To which the subtle awkwardness faded into a comfortable conversation. It was easier with him than with most, it had always been. You'd always had an underlying crush on him but you never actually thought it'd go anywhere. You were more comfortable just looking and making friendly small talk than actively perusing.

After a few minutes of conversation and walking about the town he stopped a few feet away from a large tent. Christmas lights strone about and small lines of people waiting to get inside. And it instantly clicked what he was taking you to do.

“Ice skating?” You asked.

Kyle gave you a boyish grin back, “Yep.” He said confidently, “-thought it matched the Christmas spirit.”

You laughed, to be honest, you hadn't stepped onto an ice rink in a while. You'd never been terrible at it but you weren't exactly a pro either. He gently nudged you with his shoulder, “Scared?” He asked you.

Shaking your head, you smiled back. “You wish Garrick. I think I can hold my own on an ice rink.” You bantered.

Kyle’s shoulders hiccuped as he chuckled, “Alright then. Let’s get in line.” He said leading you over to one of the lines of people. It wasn't a terribly long wait, maybe twenty or fifteen minutes before you made it to the front. And of course, he insisted on paying for your skates even though he had been the one to buy the tickets.

You continued to talk as the both of you laced up your skates. But when it came time to actually get on the ice you found yourself apprehensive. Kyle had already gotten on with ease and was now waiting for you at the small gate entrance.

“Need any help there?” He asked, amused. To which you shook your head, determined to prove to him that you could do it on your own.

“All good.” You breathed, holding onto the gate as you stepped on the ice. “-just uhm, getting my footing.” For some reason, under his gaze, you felt your whole body begin to malfunction. Like you were getting performance anxiety.

You sheepishly let go of the gate, standing statue still. And Kyle simply stood there, an amused smile played across his lips. Arms crossed in front of his broad chest. You swallowed, taking a shaky step forward. And because your life seemed to be one large cosmic joke, you felt your skate slide out and you fell forward.

You tried to put your arms out to catch yourself, shutting your eyes tight with a small squeak before you felt something take hold of you. You blinked as you realized that your face didn't collide with the hard surface of ice but with something else.

Kyle’s arms had caught you just in time, your face pressed up against his warm chest. Large arms encircling your waist, you heard him whistle. A red blush crosses your cheeks from embarrassment. “Careful there, thought you said you could hold your own?”

You were mortified, you had practically thrown yourself at him! (not intentionally of course, but still)

He helped you stand back straight as well as fix your coat. You swore you could almost feel steam coming out from your ears. “I’m sorry, that was an accident I swear.” You babbled. He didn't seem to mind, however, simply holding his hands up and giving you a soft look.

“Hey, it's okay love, I know. Happens to the best of us.” He reassured. Once again you tried to brush off the pet name so as not to implode. Kyle held his arm out to you, “-Why don't you hang on to me for the first couple of laps yeah? Just to be safe.”

You looked between him and his outstretched arm. “I-uh yeah. Sure, sounds good.” You said, taking hold of his arm for more support. He flashed you a smile before slowly skating forward. You tried your best to keep up, and with his support you did.

The two of you did loops around the skating rink, people-watching, talking, and laughing. The thing was, your arm still held his, even after the first couple of loops, he made no effort to detach from you. And neither did you, but that was neither here nor there. You actually learned a lot about him, about his family, his interests, and even a little about his work. Which in his words was “Nothing that you should ever have to hear about.”

You managed to open up to him as well, sharing more of your life with him. Eventually, your time at the rink ran out. But the conversations between you and Kyle still kept up. By the time you were walking back to your complex with him, his hand had managed to sneak its way into yours. Some part of you was still in disbelief that it was even happening, however.

You swallowed, glancing at him from the corner of your eye as he walked shoulder-to-shoulder with you. “Thanks, by the way. It was really nice of you to take me out like this. But you really didn't need to, it was just a meal. A thank you would've sufficed.” You commented.

Kyle glanced back at you, raising and eyebrow. “You think I asked you out just cause you cooked me dinner?” He said, making you stop.

You looked at him, eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. “…yes? What other reason would there be?” You asked, utterly lost.

At that, Kyle fully turned to face you. Staring at you for a few seconds, his face trying to deduce if you were joking or not. When he realized you weren't kidding, his face broke into a smile. “[Name], I've been trying to ask you out for weeks.”

You blinked, his words only confusing you more. “What? No, I would've picked up on it.” You said.

He chuckled and shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yes actually, multiple times,” Kyle said. Looking at you with an expectant gaze.

You tried to dive back into all of your memories with him, searching for a time that would've counted as him asking you out. But, you came out empty-handed. “Give me an example then.” You said, brow furrowed.

Kyle raised his eyebrows, “What about the other day when I invited you inside to eat dinner with me after you brought me food?”

“Well, that doesn't really count. That's just something people say to be polite. How was I supposed to know?” You challenged.

He continued, “…Or about that time I told you I had an extra ticket to a football game if you wanted to go?”

You felt your cheeks get a bit rosy. That one did sound a bit more like asking you out when you thought about it. “I- I was under the impression that you were just giving me a ticket. I didn't realize you meant together,” You flushed.

Kyle kept going. “And that time I caught you coming back from a bad date and I said I could show you a better one?”

Okay yeah, you were seeing it now. You bit down on your cheek, trying to stop yourself from melting into a puddle. “I thought you were just being nice.” You said lamely. You saw his mouth open to respond, but you held your hands in front of his face. “Okay, but yes, I get it! I realize now that there might have been some signs.”

You heard him chuckle, he gently lowered your hands. You sighed, feeling your cheeks burn red from embarrassment. How could you be so clueless!? “I'm sorry for not noticing that you were trying to ask me out.” You murmured, trying your best to avoid his eyes.

You then felt his warm hand slide over your jaw, cupping the side of your face to raise it. Your eyes met his, mirth swimming inside his dark brown irises. “It's okay love, you're worth the wait.”

You felt your face burn, realizing the significance of what was happening. His eyes darting between your lips, the way he held your face, the utter cheesiness of it all. And God you were eating it up like your own personal rom-com. But to your dismay, nothing was happening! Like you two were frozen in time. Kyle had been the one to ask you out, to make the first moves, so maybe it was only fair you did this small thing.

Throwing your timidness out the window, you leaned forward. Shutting your eyes and locking lips with him. It only took a moment for Kyle to press back against you, tilting his head and sliding his hand over your cheek to cup the back of your head. It was pure bliss.

You stayed like that for as long as you could, letting yourself get lost in the feeling of his lips. Yet all good things end as you still need oxygen, so you did eventually have to pull away.

Your eyes were wide as you stared at him, face flushed. He looked a little better, but it was cute the way he looked post-kiss. Kyle’s lip turned into a boyish grin, “Does this mean I get another date?”

You couldn't help but laugh, “I guess so.”

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Jhonny Soap McTavish Smut

Curse your boss for putting you on the late-night Christmas shift. What kind of fucker does that? A greedy one, you supposed. It wasn't like you didn't have plans, not with family, no, but with friends.

But no. He just had to schedule you for Christmas night.

Bartending for a group of sad, lonely, old men wasn't what you had in mind when you thought of Christmas. And even though you tried to get out of it, (bribing every co-worker and staff member you could and asking them if they would cover your shift) you still ended up behind the counter.

You grimaced, dish rag in hand as you cleaned the sticky countertop. It was pretty dead, but not enough that you were free for time. A few regulars sitting at the bar, and others were scattered about the place. Some talking or watching the different channels projected on the TV. Overall, it was a quiet evening. Though some part of you felt a little bad for wanting everyone to leave, after all, some people here didn't have families or friends to go home to.

You heard the doorbell chime as somebody walked inside. You didn't bother looking up, more concerned about the patch of mystery substance that wasn't going away. You furrowed a brow, working your muscles to press into the surface and scrub.

Heavy boots creaked across the wood, getting closer with each moment. Yet you still hadn't made any progress on the counter. With a heavy sigh, you rolled your eyes and looked up. A frown that could scare off any customer played across your lips.

“Jesus, Bonnie, Christmas shift that bad aye? Y’look like you're about to kill me right where I stand.”

You halted. Standing before you was Johnny McTavish, or Soap, as his other friends christened him. (don't ask, you didn't know why either) He was a part of the semi-regular military group that came in a few times a month. There was a large base a few miles away, so it wasn't abnormal to get your fair share of soldiers now and again. However, what was abnormal was the fact that he was here alone.

Normally, Johnny came in with three other guys. Gaz, another more gruff man who they referred to as ‘Cap,’ and a big scary-looking bloke who always wore a balaclava.

You stared at him for a good few seconds.“I uh, sorry you caught me off guard there.” You breathed. “-And no, it’s not bad in here, just prefer not to be working on Christmas night.”

Johnny hummed, walking up the the counter and pulling out a stool right in front of you. His large arms settled against the wood, “Too bad. Bossman put you on the shift, did he?” He asked, apparently very amused by your grim attitude.

You rolled your eyes, throwing the rag under the counter. “Yeah, I even tried to bribe everyone to cover my shift but nobody would take it.”

He smiled, shrugging his broad shoulders. “Well then maybe this was fate.” He joked, “-Anyway, since it is Christmas, would you mind pouring me a glass? Y’know, as a present?” He said, grinning at you.

You felt your heart stutter a little.

Oh yeah, the other thing about Johnny was that you may or may not have the biggest crush known to man on him. It wasn't even your fault, he charmed his stupid way into your heart. With his ridiculous mohawk, (which wasn't even really a mohawk) pretty blue eyes, and his huge biceps. Very annoying. Not even to mention his rough voice with that thick Scottish accent.

To say you had the hots for him was a giant understatement.

You breathed out a laugh, “Alright, coming up.” You turned around to grab the bottle of vodka, fixing together a Cape Codder. Then sliding the glass over to him. He gave you a funny look, concussion written across his face.

“This isn't my usual.” He pointed out, still taking the drink nonetheless.

You flashed him a smile, winking. “Merry Christmas doll face.” You said sarcastically. To which he simply took a sip. You eyed him as he did, “Where are the rest of the guys?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Johnny cleared his throat, setting the glass down and leaning forward. “Gaz and Price are back at base, everyone had drinks earlier and they wouldn't make it. Ghost’s not the biggest fan of Christmas so he didn't want to go out either.” He said casually.

You nodded, “If you had drinks earlier than why are you back here?” You asked.

Soap smiled, his jaw working in a way that made you swallow. “Never said I did, the others drank, but I held off until now. Thought I'd be better if I got shit-faced here where you could see it.”

You laughed, leaning against the back counter. Your arms crossed over your chest. “And you were just betting on me working tonight?”

Jhonny shrugged, taking another sip. “I had an inkling.”

You breathed out another small chuckle, walking back over to grab the towel you'd thrown before. “Y’know, I'm only giving you a free drink because it’s Christmas. Can't pull that trick on anybody else, so be grateful you got me.”

He nodded, licking his lips. His eyes followed you as you walked around. “Trust me Bonnie I am, not every day I get you all to myself.”

Your train of thought stuttered a bit, Jhonny was a flirt, yes. But for some reason, it felt different. His tone had changed, and the way his eyes were tracking your every move felt more real. You glanced back at him as you scrubbed the countertop. “Who says that all my attention is on you?” You quipped with a smile.

Jhonny grinned, shaking the ice in his glass. “You know what I mean.” He set in drink back down on the table. “But for the record, I don't see you givin’ any attention to the other blokes here.”

You shot him a look, trying to hold in your laugh. “Unfortunately, half of the people here are either probably married or well above the appropriate age bracket.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Too bad, here I was thinking I’m getting special treatment. Better think of a way to get on your good side, I suppose.”

You cocked an eyebrow at him, intrigued at the sentiment. “Yeah? What did you have in mind?” You asked.

“Depends.” He said, staring at you with way more intensity than you were prepared for. “-What do ya’ want Bonnie?”

You stared back, at a loss for words. There were many things you wanted, or more specifically, things you wanted him to do to you. Your throat suddenly went dry, your train of thought ruined by a barrage of filthy images flashing in your mind. It wasn't until another minute went by that you remembered you were supposed to be responding to his question.

You cleared your throat, “I uh- a solid cash tip would be nice. Or maybe you could cover my shift.” You joked, trying to play the silence off.

“S’not what it looks like to me.” He stated, throwing his head back as he downed the last of his drink.

You halted again, caught off guard. Furrowing your brow in confusion, “Excuse me?” You asked.

He put the drink back down on the table, leaning forward on his arms. His signature impish smile on his stupidly pretty lips. “That's not what it looks like to me.” He repeated, enunciating each word. “Nobody looks at somebody like you just did to me, then makes a joke about covering a shift.”

You felt your heart speed up, so he had noticed your stare? You forced a frown, keeping a skeptical face. Placing a hand on your hip, “I wasn't looking at you like anything.”

“Oh yes, you most definitely were Bonnie.” Fuck that stupid nickname he always called you. It only weakened your resolve.

You rolled your eyes, “And how exactly was I looking at you?” You said, frowning at him.

Johnny’s smile twitched up a little, something akin to hunger flashing in his eyes. “Like you wanted to shag me.” He spoke casually. “-Can’t say I'm not guilty of’tha either though. The drinks here aren't the only reason I'm always stoppin’ by.”

If your face wasn't red before, it definitely was now. You looked around as if somebody was listening in on the conversation. You looked back at him, wide-eyed and flushed. “I-what? I wasn't-” You cut yourself off from stumbling over another word. “You…want to fuck me?” You said slowly, skepticism leaking through your tone.

Without a beat, he nodded. “Yes.”

You stood statue still, absolutely floored by his lack of filter. For a few moments, you didn't know what to say. What could you say? ‘Yeah, I do too now let's have sex right now.’ Yeah right.

…

Well maybe.

You looked around again, there was barely anyone in the bar. They probably wouldn't notice if you disappeared for twenty minutes, right?

You looked back at Johnny, “Meet me behind that door one minute after I go inside.” Without another word, you turned on your heel and marched your ass into the back room behind the drink display. The heavy door shutting with a thump behind you.

You blinked, holy shit. You had just told Johnny to meet you in the back room. What the hell were you doing?!

Just before you started panicking, the door swung open and Johnny marched straight in. “What the hell? I thought I told you a minute later.” You whisper shouted at him.

He chuckled, “Sorry, but I don't think waltzing in here a minute after you would make what we're about to do any less obvious. It was a nice thought, though.” He said, almost patronizingly.

Suddenly, his strides had backed you against one of the back walls that were lined with cardboard boxes. You bit down on the inside of your cheek, “You're such a-” You cut yourself off, sighing heavily. “For the record, I'm only doing this because I'm pissed off about working and I need something to fill the time.” a lie.

Johnny’s large hands slid against your waist, holding you there. “Sure, Bonnie, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Just as you opened your mouth to argue back his head dipped down to capture your lips. You let out a surprised noise but quickly adapted, your hands snaking around his head and pulling him closer. He groaned into you, pushing his hips against yours as his tongue slipped into your mouth.

The kiss was needy, desperate even. Like he wanted to consume you whole. Every moment seemed to heat the tension between you as he slowly ground himself into you, letting you feel the hardening tent between his legs.

He gently nipped at your lip, causing you to gasp. His large hands made quick work of your top by sliding it over your head. As soon as he saw you in your bra, he groaned, “Fuck, this is what I've been thinkin’ bout’ for the past few months.” Without another word, he reached behind you to unclasp your bra. Groping and pawing at your chest like a cat.

You tried your best to keep your sighs and moans down. “You've been thinking about me?” You breathed.

“Every day Bonnie.” He said, kissing a trail up your neck. Red hickeys blossoming in his wake that would undoubtedly remain for the next few hours. But you couldn't find it in you to care, at least not in this moment.

Without warning his kisses began to drop until he slid down between your legs. Kneeling before you like he was ready to worship the ground you stood on. You looked down at him, surprise in your gaze. However, he paid you no mind as he undid your pants. Pulling them down your legs until they pooled at your ankles.

You swallowed, “Johnny you don't have to-”

“I want to.” He cut you off. His breath fanning against the material of your panties, blue eyes staring up at you with haze. His hands gently pulled down the elastic of your underwear until you stood bared to him. “-Fuck, you gorgeous thing.” He breathed, in awe of you.

His mouth was on you at a moment's notice. His hot tongue licking circles around your clit. Your hands immediately went to grab at his hair. Curling around the short locks of brown hair, your other hand slapped over your mouth. Muffling the puffs of air and moans falling from your lips.

It was almost like he was enjoying it more than you were because the way he ate you out was akin to a starving man desperate for water. Johnny moaned into you as he sucked and licked at you, hands holding your hips, keeping you in place.

You panted, absolutely lost for words as he delved into you. You'd never had any man desperate to taste you, so this took the cake. And the way his stubble scratched into your skin made you dizzy. This man had ruined you for anybody else in a few short minutes with his tongue alone.

“Jeez, Johnny- you're gonna make me cum if you keep going like that.” You panted out through your moans.

He detached for a second, looking at you. His cheeks flushed red, his eyes glazed over, and his mouth slick with your juices. “Good,” He panted. “Means I'm doing my job right.”

Before you could say any more he went right back at it, flicking his tongue over your clit. Your hands squeezed his hair tighter, pushing him further. Johnny moaned, letting you guide his face for your pleasure. One of his hands slid away from your thigh to your pussy, pressing a finger into your hole.

You let another moan slip, not being able to hide it as his thick digit pushed into your walls. It was too much, the pressure of his finger curling inside you as his tongue worked against your clit.

“Holy shit- m’gonna cum. M’gonna cum.” You panted, voice going up an octave as your body tightened. A burning heat sending shocks through your spine.

Johnny groaned in response, working his finger faster inside you. You threw your head back with a silent cry, legs shaking as you came. Heat burning down your body and lighting fireworks inside your stomach.

After a few more seconds, he slid his finger out of you, leaning back on his knees. His breath was almost as heavy as yours. Your mind was still hazy but somehow you found it in you to look down at him, gently carding a hand through his hair. “Fuck, McTavish, you surprised me.”

He grinned back at you, practically pussy drunk. “Yeah? Does that mean I get another free drink?” He asked, amused.

You smiled, helping him to his feet. “I’ll do you one better.” You murmured, feeling the fog of your orgasm slowly fade a little.

He raised an eyebrow, his mouth opening in question as you switched your position. Now in front of him and sliding down to your knees, eye to eye with his bulge. Your hands palmed over him, making his head tilt back with a soft groan. “Fuck- [Name], eating you out like that already did a number on me.” He panted, “M’not gonna last long if you do anything to me.”

You smiled, gently unzipping his pants and pulling apart the fabric. Jeez, he was practically tearing a hole straight through his boxers. “I can live with that.” You said teasingly, sliding down his briefs to let his dick spring free.

Your eyes drank him in, pleasantly surprised to find out, yes, he was big. You gently took hold of him, his cock sticky and beading with milky precum. His head fell back against the wall. “You really know how to make a guy feel special, don't you?” He half laughed, half moaned.

You hummed in acknowledgment, licking a stripe up his cock. Then swirl your tongue over the reddish tip, lapping up the fluid like syrup. His dick twitched, making you smile. Slowly, you took the head of him into your mouth, inching your way down.

Johnny cursed, his hand reaching down to grab your hair. Holding you as you slid down his dick, your throat wrapped around him. “Bonnie, I told you I wasn't gonna last long.” He moaned, his breath heavy and hard.

You moaned in response, bobbing your head up and down his cock. Letting the tip hit the back of your throat. Your eyes locked on his face scrunched up in pleasure as you sucked him off.

Soon, he was practically whimpering at nothing. His hands held your hair with a vice grip as you bobbed up and down on his dick. “Fuckfuckfuck- that's it, keep going. You're so gorgeous, just taking my cock like that.”

You moaned, feeling his cock twitch again in your mouth. With another curse, he came down your throat, painting your mouth a milky white.

Slowly, you detached from his softening dick. Swallowing the fluid, it was salty, kind of earthy too. Not bad though, thank goodness. Johnny stared at you, looking wrecked. You probably didn't fair that much better.

“Was that better than a free drink?” You chuckled, wobbly standing up.

Johnny laughed, nodding. “Way better than a free drink.”

There was a moment of silence before he spoke up again.

“…so, you free after your shift?”

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Merry Christmas or Happy holidays!

Or if it is the day after Christmas then happy late Christmas. Anyway, just a collection of a few one-shots for the festive season :)

This isn't my usual content, it’s normally more long-form stories but I hope it was okay!

Not too much to say other than thank you for reading and all your support, I love each and every one of you.

And don't forget to like or repost, maybe even leave a comment if you so choose. Toodles!

( ✧≖ ͜ʖ≖)

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67 notes · View notes

marciaillust · 3 days ago

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hey, i hope you're doing great! i feel this may be unorthodox, but i really wanted to reach out to extend my engagement?— awe?— solidarity?— (some variant of those, anyways) with your most recent "workposting" art. i don't normally do this. I've maybe sent 3 asks in my whole life. there's no pressure to respond to this, as i mostly just wanted to cheer you on. also, I'm really sorry this is so long.

i only just recently landed my very first freelance art job, at a start-up company dedicated to making comics + DND inspired art content. I've always felt that "Its nothing to call home about", and so i really resonated with your feelings regarding your work for Brawl Stars. I felt kind of ashamed of my job, that its just a small start up— that I'm not enough and that i should be trying harder, or something like that. Specifically i resonated with your comment of "presenting brawl stars art feels like showing my anime girl oc to an art teacher" and i don't think i could have solidified any better.

Anyways. all's to say. I really found your work quite jaw-dropping. I was shocked when i read it was for Brawl Stars. I didn't know anything about it, but when i did some research i was even more amazed. they're really, really compositionally beautiful... i mean, i know its just "work" to you ultimately, but it really does feel lively, and everything about it makes it feel like you care. I think sometimes you're just able to tell when an artist genuinely cares about their work; about its end outcome. there's so many intricacies. and a lot of attention to detail. you kept the style that was necessary of you but i also can feel the warmth and the care of the artist behind it— its not corporate, or stale, it doesn't come across as "just work".

since you mentioned League, i genuinely do think it serves an equal purpose and weight to what League of Legends would produce. from a biased standpoint, i would actually value your work more. Its not even that its "more obtainable"/"more realistic" but that there's genuinely more feeling to it. Compositionally/artistically, yeah, League makes great stuff, but occasionally, the feeling or the sense of warmth and care from the creator of the art is lost along the way. I value seeing the artist within their own art a lot, which is why I've admitted to a degree of bias. either way. what you put out there is really gorgeous, and crazy impressive.

I know a stranger with a dumb, fandom-oriented art blog cant solve the self-indited art elitism (you and me both, man💀) and that you've already received plenty of love/reblogs saying similar things, but i wanted to extend my feelings anyways. Its really heart-warming, i guess. It brings me hopefulness, and deep adoration for the craft. I'm not very good with words. Anyways. don't undersell yourself. seeing your work meant more to me than you can imagine. I'm obviously nowhere near your skill level, but it meant more to me as an aspiration. i think that regardless of who you work for, your work is really valuable and downright incredible. because you bring that sense of warmth, care, time, and patience regardless of the media it portrays. and you're able to do that while being objectively talented— utilizing great compositions, colour pallets, shading, characterization, mood, etc. That is more valuable. That is much much cooler than working for Riot. imo.

Initially, i also wanted to ask you some questions about how you assembled your portfolio, if you went to school, (if so) what it did/didn't provide for you going into the art field, and just how you landed the job in general. But i respect you and your time, and wouldnt want to be a burden or anything. If you ever have time for it, i would love to ask them, among others, and we can chat in DM if you'd prefer. Absolutely no pressure. Im happy just watching from the sidelines. I dont anticipate anything from you to begin with! I just hope youll know how influential your post was to read & see, to someone like me!

Oh man. I. How. Where do I even start except

This is one of the most uplifting, touching and encouraging messages I received in my life. I read it thrice. And I still can't believe how full of love it is. This is such high praise, I want you to know I will cherish it and carry it with me for a long long time. It's not often that an artist gets to learn how their art is perceived, not to mention in such a positive light. It really means a lot to me.

It makes me so happy to hear that my work illustrations retain a piece of me that is visible to others. I myself can't see it, but I imagine my closeness to the matter at hand heavily impacts my ability to see objectively at all. There was a time where I was worried that work was overriding the me that makes my art mine, that I was becoming a corporate rendering machine and that what I did at work (the shape language and style) was bleeding into my personal art. There is a part of me that is now breathing easier after reading your message. I would love to answer any questions you have, it's the least I can do to repay you! Feel free to send an ask or even an email, I'll try to be as thorough as I can be with my answers. I wish you happy holidays! Take care! And again thank you so much for taking the time to write this message!

#straight up had to pause a few time while reading your message to put my head on my knees and not. let a tear escape

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maretinelli · 3 days ago

Text

FATAL ACCIDENT

Oscar Piastri X driver!fem!reader

Summary: When Oscar goes to watch Y/n's last race, the last thing he would imagine was that his girlfriend's car would start to roll over in the last laps.

Words: 7K+

Warnings: Established relationship, Oscar and Y/n pilots, accident, blood, bruises, injury, hospital, anguish, coma, but happy ending.

Author: English is not my first language, there may be mistakes, I'm sorry. And that's it, cry a little while reading.

MASTERLIST

Y/n was inside her motorhome, trying to close the back zipper of her racing suit while staring at the mirror, but with a concentration on the memories of yesterday.

The zipper resisted, as did the knot that insisted on tightening her chest. Every time she tried to take a deep breath, it felt like the air was getting stuck in her throat. Her hands were shaking, something she couldn't let show on the dance floor.

Yesterday was a tense day for the women at the Formula 1 Academy. One of the drivers ended up flipping her car during her qualifying session, forcing her to end up in the hospital due to her injuries. Not to mention that after that, Yin's teammate had crashed into the wall, but luckily, she came out unharmed.

In her mind, the image repeated itself in a cruel loop: Hillary's car rolling, the tires burning against the asphalt, the dry sound of the impact on the wall. Then, silence. The kind of silence that chilled the blood.

"Hey, my dear? What's going on in your head?" Oscar comes up behind his girlfriend, helping her close her jumpsuit and placing his chin on her shoulder, so he can see in the mirror.

"I was going to say nothing, but...the scene of Hillary spinning on the track yesterday haunts me." She says with a sigh, turning to face her boyfriend.

Oscar gives a small smile and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I don't know how to explain it...but I don't feel well today, maybe because of everything that happened yesterday...I don't know..." she says softly, with her arms on Oscar's shoulders.

Piastri hadn't seen the accident on the track yesterday, his flight had been delayed and he only arrived at dinner time. But as a Formula 1 driver, he knew very well how his girlfriend felt. The fear of it happening to her too.

"I understand you, and you don't need to pretend that everything is fine. I know how much an accident can affect us," Oscar tries to reassure.

"I just wanted to try to forget that scene for a little while... The sound of the crash, her car crushed and her not responding gives me chills." Y/n sighs and closes her eyes, laying on her boyfriend's left shoulder. "...I'm just scared...I'm scared it'll happen to me too..." she says in a muffled voice.

Oscar shudders.

"Hey, honey! That won't happen to you. I know how great of a driver you are and I know you can dodge any problem that comes your way." He kisses her shoulder. "And what's more! I'm here, I may not be on the track with you, but I'll be protecting you just the same." Oscar pulls Yin to look into her eyes, she smiles in relief.

Having Oscar there was like Y/n was on cloud nine and was on a sedative. She felt safe with Oscar around. And well, Oscar is Oscar. Calm, serious, centered. He's the perfect man for anyone.

"I love you!"

"I love you more!" Oscar pulls Y/n into a kiss before they can leave the motorhome to go to the garage.

The kiss was soft, but full of meaning, as if Oscar wanted to convey a calm that he himself did not have.

When the youngest arrived at the garage, about three engineers started talking at the same time about her car, she just let go of Oscar's hand with a shy smile, he just whispered 'you can go, I'll be here!' before smiling sweetly and watching Y/n from afar, the impeccable overalls hugging her body as she gestured and listened attentively to the mechanics.

Oscar was tense too, but of course, he wouldn't tell Y/n and make her more nervous than she already was. But in the last week, four nights in a row he dreamed about his girlfriend flipping the car too, but the only thing different in the dreams was the setting, each day she was in a different place. Track, road, highway and on the street that gave access to their apartment. All horrible dreams that made Oscar wake up scared and check if Y/n was okay, while she slept soundly next to him in the shared bed of their apartment in Monaco.

He was still lost in thought when Yin came up beside him smiling, "Hey, did you ride the train of thought?" She poked his chest and he laughed.

"Just thinking about where to take you on a date after you win the race," he teases, holding her waist. She blushes shyly, making Oscar laugh. "After all these years you still blush at my flirting?" He teases again.

Y/n rolls her eyes laughing. "Of course, Oscar Piastri, McLaren Formula 1 driver is flirting with me!" She jokes, making them both laugh.

The time had come, the chief engineer of Y/n's car alerted her, asking her to get ready to get in the car and go position herself on the grid. She felt her heart race and Oscar noticed when her smile fell, he moved his hands to her cheeks, making his girlfriend look.

"It's okay! You're going to rock it like always. And I'll be here to celebrate with you in a few hours." He smiles, kissing her forehead.

Y/n took a deep breath, but her fingers trembled slightly as she adjusted her gloves. The balaclava felt tighter than usual. Her ear muffs were too small that day, as if every little detail wanted to remind her of the pressure of the moment.

Piastri takes her helmet and holds it, waiting for his girlfriend to finish putting on her equipment. As soon as he sees her with everything ready, he approaches and takes the helmet to her, Y/n smiles with her eyes. "Thank you, love."

Y/n puts on her helmet and gets into the car, before any engineer could put the steering wheel in place, Oscar leans over and kisses the top of her helmet.

The kiss on the helmet was a ritual of theirs, a kind of silent amulet that seemed to guarantee that everything would be okay. The muffled sound of the touch echoed in her ear, bringing an inexplicable comfort. To Oscar, it was his way of promising that he would always be by her side, even when she was alone on the track.

He bends down: "Don't worry!! Nothing bad will happen and if it does, I'm here!! I'll always be here for you!" Y/n holds his hand, a little tighter than usual.

Oscar smiles and gives the mechanics permission, already putting his headphones on.

Within seconds, Y/n was pulling out of the garage. Oscar stood in the driveway, arms crossed and staring at the car as it drove away. He felt a pang of emptiness as her figure disappeared around the bend. The roar of the engine sounded like distant thunder, mixing with the pounding in his chest. He knew that now all he could do was wait and hope that his nightmares wouldn't come true.

Y/n was lined up in P3 on the grid, watching intently as the red lights went out, until an alarming sound signaled them to start. The youngest had a flawless start, taking P2 on the first corner.

"Hey Y/n, good job!" His chief engineer says over the radio and Oscar who was standing in front of the monitor, smiles proudly at his girlfriend.

But he still had a twinge of nervousness in his chest, he also knew how unpredictable that sport was.

Over the next few laps, Y/n began closing the gap on the leader, waiting for the perfect moment to attack. On lap ten, as they entered the main straight again, she used the slipstream to gain speed and made the pass on the edge of the corner. The move was clean and decisive, and the team radio exploded with celebration.

"Leadership!! Leadership!!" One of them exclaimed energetically over the radio, making Y/n smile inside the car and Oscar in the garage.

As the race progressed, Y/n began to open up an impressive lead. At 20 seconds behind the second-place finisher, she seemed uncatchable.

The people in the garage were bursting with happiness, while Oscar, with his arms crossed tensely, watched his girlfriend's every move on the television screen. He was happy with her position, but flashes of his dreams began to appear more frequently in the pilot's mind.

Now with only fifteen laps to go and the lead in her hands, Y/n began to feel something strange in the car. At first, it was a slight vibration in the steering wheel, almost imperceptible. She pressed her lips together under her helmet, ignoring the discomfort. But the vibration got worse, especially as she made the turn, feeling the car skidding on the track.

Apparently the engineers hadn't noticed anything wrong, but Oscar, more than experienced in this matter, frowned and tried to alert the garage staff.

"Hey, did you guys see that? Looks like she's having some trouble with the car."

The engineer shook his head, checking the numbers. "Everything looks normal here, Oscar. Maybe it's just steering adjustment."

"No. It's not normal." He pointed at the screen, his tone growing more tense. "Look how unstable the front of the car looks. She never takes turns like that. Something's wrong, you need to tell her."

Oscar was right and before any engineers could make any decisions, Y/n began trying to communicate via radio.

"There's...something...with the car..." Her voice cracks over the radio.

Oscar immediately tried to press the headphones tighter into his ears, thinking that maybe he hadn't heard correctly.

"Y/n, repeat, we're having audio difficulties," the engineer said over the radio, trying to remain calm.

"Something...car..." the voice came out broken again.

Y/n began to feel the car shake uncontrollably, evident on the monitors, and the steering wheel that had previously seemed firm in her hands was now vibrating violently.

"Damn it!" She screamed, trying to steady the car.

Now with only 10 seconds of difference to the second placed rider, Oscar started to get more tense, nervous and sweating cold. It was as if his worst nightmare had come true.

He quickly turns to the chief engineer: "Tell her to slow down..." he tries to warn. "NOW!!"

Most turn to Piastri, seeing the boy turn pale.

"We're trying, Oscar, but she needs to confirm the problem first." The engineer says, pressing the button to try to communicate with Y/n inside the car. "Y/n, can you hear us?...Y/n??" She doesn't respond.

Oscar saw it before anyone else. He straightened, his heart racing. "She's going to lose control!"

Sweat began to trickle down Y/n’s forehead, mixing with the adrenaline pumping through her veins. Something was wrong. She knew it. But she couldn’t explain it, couldn’t articulate the words over the radio. It was as if the car itself was collapsing under her control.

"Guys...FUCK!!" The only things they hear on the woman's radio.

That's when it happened. The car swayed violently on the straight, from left to right, before reaching the curve and hitting a wall. The impact was brutal. The metallic sound of the beat echoed through the headphones and across the dance floor. The car bounced off the barrier and, in an instant that seemed to last an eternity, began to roll over. Once, twice, three times, before stopping upside down, with parts of the fairing scattered across the asphalt.

It all happened too fast. Y/n’s world turned upside down—literally. Her seatbelt held her in place as the car rolled over. The sound of metal twisting and glass shattering was deafening. Each roll seemed to knock the air from her lungs as she fought to stay conscious.

Oscar froze. The world around him seemed to move in slow motion as he watched Yin’s car spin through the air. The scream caught in his throat, his eyes fixed on the screen as if he could stop the inevitable. All he wanted was to hear her voice. To know that she was okay.

The garage fell silent. The sound of the crash still echoed through everyone's headphones, and the air felt suffocating.

"Y/N?? CAN YOU HEAR ME? The team leader tries again, but nothing but a hiss comes from the woman's radio. Oscar can feel each second dragging by as they wait for news.

Some engineers dropped their headphones, putting their hands on their heads when they couldn't hear the pilot's voice.

The red flag was waving and paramedics were rushing to the scene of the accident, carrying fire extinguishers and rescue equipment. And that's when Oscar came to his senses, when Y/n didn't move or give any sign that she was okay. The radio was silent, and the broadcast camera showed his girlfriend's helmet tilted. Oscar felt his heart stop.

Quickly ripping the headphones out of his ears — almost breaking them. Piastri starts walking quickly to get out of the garage, until someone grabs him by the shoulders.

"Hey, hey, hey!" One of the engineers holds him back. "You can't go there, let the doctors help!"

"I can't just stand here when my girlfriend is between life and death!" He says angrily because they won't let him leave.

"You don't..."

"YES I CAN!!!" Oscar shouted, running away from there.

The curve that Y/n crashed into was not close to the pits, so Piastri ran for several meters until he managed to get close to some suspicious movement on the track.

Oscar arrived at the scene with his lungs burning and his heart racing. The scene in front of him was a nightmare, the dreaded nightmare he had had in those times: Y/n's car, destroyed, with paramedics and the rescue team struggling to remove her from the wreckage.

For a moment, everything passed in slow motion in Piastri's vision, the seconds seemed like hours and it seemed like people didn't move to help his girlfriend in the middle of those irons.

He comes back to reality when someone runs past with the stretcher and bumps into him.

"Sorry!"

Oscar runs a little further to the accident site: "Y/N!! Y/N!!" he screams, feeling his lungs burn more.

The air burned in his lungs, but he didn't even notice the pain. His legs felt like they were about to give out at any moment, but he couldn't stop. He wouldn't stop, not while she needed him.

The moment he approached, Y/n was being pulled out from under the car and placed on the stretcher. When they took off her helmet, Oscar saw his girlfriend's entire face, bloody, pale and with drops of sweat.

Piastri felt tears fall and his knees give out as he tried to get closer.

One of the paramedics saw Oscar and tried to get him to stay back. Meanwhile, the people in the stands were completely silent, some were crying, others were sitting with their hands on their heads and others left so as not to see the state of the driver.

"Hey, see! I need you to stay back, we're removing her and this could complicate her case!" The doctor says sympathetically.

Oscar shakes his head and tries to walk forward. "She's my girlfriend!"

The paramedic's eyes widened slightly and exchanged glances with the rescue team.

"Well...let's tell the truth then! She is in a very critical condition, but fortunately she is alive. She may have multiple fractures and a concussion." The doctor is sincere and Piastri can feel the ground open up a little more under his feet.

With that, her helmet fell from a stretcher and rolled across the floor until it came to rest at Oscar's feet. The personalized design—her number next to a drawing of her favorite constellation—made him feel a stab in the chest.

He bends down and presses the object against his chest.

A little further ahead, they put the oxygen mask on the woman and walked to the ambulance, Oscar started running again, leaving the paramedic talking to himself.

“Y/N!”

The rescue team holds him by the shoulders. "Hey, hey!" Oscar stops, still watching them carry Y/n unconscious.

"I have to go, it's my girlfriend. IT'S MY LIFE!"

"I understand. But you can't go with her in the ambulance, we need space because of her critical injuries. We're taking her to the nearest hospital." One of them says and Oscar nods in agreement. "Just be careful driving..." The team warns, as it was obvious that Oscar would find a way to get there.

The ambulance doors slam shut with a loud bang that rings in Oscar’s ears like a gunshot. He stands still, his eyes fixed on the siren as it rapidly retreats, until silence envelops him like a suffocating current. He finally moves, stumbling toward the car Y/n had rented for them for the weekend.

The key was in her trailer, along with her purse. Oscar takes everything on impulse and runs out to drive to the hospital.

During the journey, tears ran violently down the driver's cheeks. At each red light he stopped at, memories of Y/n and him flashed through his mind: The sweet smile she gave when Oscar said he fell in love with her every day, how her eyes shone when she was inside a racetrack, their conversations in bed late at night. Everything flashed through his head.

The hospital was lit coldly and impersonally, a cruel contrast to the chaos and heat of his mind. He nearly knocked over the objects on the reception desk as he approached, his words coming out in a rush and jumble: "My girlfriend... accident... Y/n... Is she here yet? Please, I need to know."

He clutched Y/n's bag to his chest as if it were an anchor to reality, leaning on the counter to communicate with the nurse.

"Accident at the racetrack?!" A nurse asks and he nods in agreement. "Yeah, it was about five minutes ago. They took him straight to the operating room." She looks at the system and then back at Oscar. "Is he her husband?"

Oscar hesitated for a split second. He wasn't her husband, but her boyfriend... her boyfriend for years, the man who knew Y/n meant everything to him. Still, this wasn't the time for technical corrections. He nodded quickly, his words choked out in a rush.

"Yes, I am."

"Okay! You can wait in the room next door," she said calmly, while Oscar was shaking and sweating coldly. Before he walked away, she looked at the bag underneath him. "Hey... do you have her documents with you? Just to register them in the system faster!"

Oscar nodded and, with trembling fingers, opened Y/n's bag. He rummaged through it until he found her wallet and the necessary documents. He handed them along with his to the nurse, who quickly entered them into the system. She handed the papers back to him with a comforting smile that he didn't even notice. Her gaze was fixed on the floor, her hands still shaking.

"That's right. Thank you."

Oscar mumbled a thank you, tried to smile, but failed miserably. He walked away, heading for the waiting room she had indicated.

The room was white and cold, making Oscar shiver as he sat in one of the hospital chairs. The space was reasonably large, with a space for children to play while they waited for appointments, doctors, and tests. Oscar lowered his head, looking at his girlfriend's bag on his lap.

Trying to distract his mind from the agonizing wait, he opened his bag, thinking about organizing it or looking for something that could help. That's when he saw it.

First, a small folded envelope with her name written in her handwriting. He pulled out the paper and opened it with trembling hands. It was one of the little letters he wrote himself and left for her when he left the apartment early.

"Good morning, my love. I know today is going to be a busy day, but I just wanted to remind you how lucky I am to have you in my life. You make me want to be better every day. I can't wait to see you tonight. I love you - Osc."

Oscar pressed his lips together, holding back the sob that threatened to escape. His hands shook as he flipped through the items in his bag, and he could feel cold sweat trickling down the back of his neck. The air felt heavy, each breath labored, as if fear were squeezing his chest.

Deeper in his bag, he found a Polaroid of the two of them. The photo had been taken at a random moment, on the couch at her mother's house. He was holding her by the shoulder, smiling shyly, while she made an adorable face with her tongue out. On the back, a note written by Y/n: "Our favorite moment: together."

He ran his thumb over the photo, tears falling uncontrollably now. He didn't even try to hide them.

Finally, he found her phone. The screen locked with the wallpaper of a photo taken on a trip to the snow, in which Y/n kissed him on the cheek while he smiled, red from shyness and cold. It was a sweet reminder of how she always made him feel loved, even in the simplest moments.

He leans on his knees and lets the sobs escape his body, while tightly holding the things Y/n kept from them.

"Please...stay with me...stay with me" He said between sobs.

From the counter, one of the nurses gave him a worried look. They were used to seeing suffering there, but something about the young man’s vulnerability struck them. An older nurse approached with a bottle of water, but stopped halfway, hesitating, respecting his space.

The seconds seemed like minutes, minutes turned into hours and the hours didn't pass. Oscar had been in the waiting room for about 5 hours, he had already given news to his family, friends and team, and now he prayed that a doctor would come to bring him good news.

Finally, a man in pajamas and a surgical cap appeared in the large room, looking around and seeing only a young man sitting there. When Oscar noticed, his body sat up straight in the uncomfortable chair.

"Y/n Y/s's companion?" The doctor approaches Oscar.

"Yes, me!" He says, standing up and leaving her bag on the chair, greeting the doctor with a firm handshake.

The doctor took a deep breath before answering, and Oscar felt the ground shake beneath his feet, as if the fate of his life depended on his next words.

"First of all. Mr Pias... Piastri right?" The doctor looks at the file and Oscar nods. "I mean your girlfriend is alive!"

Oscar felt the air leave his lungs at the speed of light. But that crushing sensation was still there, there was something else for the doctor to say and Oscar knew it.

"She is in critical condition. She suffered multiple fractures - arms, ribs and one of her legs and had a severe blow to the head, which resulted in a traumatic brain injury." The doctor said seriously and Oscar felt tears coming back to his eyes.

"Trauma? Is... is it serious? She... she'll wake up, right?" He asks in distress.

"Right now, she's in an induced coma. This is to stabilize her body and allow us to treat her injuries more safely. The good news is that her vital signs are stable, and she's responding well to the first procedures." The surgeon places a hand on Oscar's shoulder, causing the younger man to sigh and release a sob stuck in his throat.

"But she'll wake up, right? She'll be okay?"

The doctor sighs, not wanting to give him false hope, but also not wanting to make him worry.

"It's too early to predict. An induced coma is a controlled procedure, but we need to wait to assess brain damage. Each case is unique, and recovery time may vary. The important thing now is to give her body time to recover."

Oscar nods in agreement, letting the tears fall.

"I know this is very difficult to hear, but the important thing to remember is that she is alive and responding well to the procedures already performed. We will monitor her closely!" The doctor smiles and Oscar wipes away tears. "And a crucial medicine for her is emotional support! She will need you by her side!"

"Of course, of course! I wouldn't dare leave her alone here," Oscar says quickly.

"She is in good hands. The hospital itself is a reference. We will take good care of your little girl."

Oscar held his breath at those words. His little girl. He felt a rush of emotion so strong it almost made him falter. A small, shaky smile escaped his lips after hours of pure tension. Even in the midst of chaos, hearing that felt like a promise that there was still hope.

"She's in a room in the ICU, but we can let you stay with her." The doctor says softly, placing a hand on the pilot's shoulder again, as a gesture of comfort.

Oscar nodded quickly, clutching her bag tightly to his chest as if it were a lucky charm. He stood up, ready to follow the doctor.

The white walls seemed to close in around him, the sound of his footsteps echoing along with the distant murmurs of nurses and monitors. He had his bag slung over his shoulder, gripping it tightly as he stepped out of the elevator and walked behind the doctor. The scenes of her car overturning still made a point of playing in his mind on a loop.

"Here we are. I'll leave you alone. If there's anything, just call a nurse using the button next to her bed, or go to the nurse's station here at the end of the hallway," the doctor says, pointing to the place and leaves, leaving Oscar paralyzed for a moment in front of the door of the room where Y/n was.

He took a deep breath, feeling a mixture of fear and relief. Finally, he opened the door and stepped inside.

The sound of the heart monitor filled the room immediately, the steady rhythm almost reassuring, though he felt each beat like a punch to his chest.

There she was, lying on a bed that seemed enormous around her frail body. Oscar stopped suddenly, the air escaping from his lungs in a silent sob. She was surrounded by wires, tubes, and bandages. Her face was pale, with small cuts and scratches visible, but clean of the blood from before, and her arm and leg were in a cast, supported by a suspended frame.

But it was her. It was still her.

He dropped his bag on the armchair and walked a few steps until he stopped next to her bed, letting the tears fall.

Piastri lightly touches his girlfriend's hand with his finger, afraid of hurting her. "Hey, love..." He whispered, his voice shaking, trying to sound strong, even though he felt like he was falling apart.

He finally let his hand rest on hers, cold to the touch, but still alive: "You're here! You're alive!" Oscar sobs. "I was so afraid of losing you..." He kneels beside the bed and cries. A cry that seemed to have been kept for years.

He let his feelings take over.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Oscar and Y/n were in the office of their apartment, with the computers in the French class and books and notebooks on their desk.

"I want a... umm... croissant and coffee?" Y/n reads with a serious expression.

"You're ordering coffee and croissants like it's a life or death mission." Oscar laughs, holding a book in his hands as well.

The video lesson was already ending, while Oscar and Y/n were still trying to pronounce the first sentence the teacher said.

"Alright, my turn now!" Oscar says and chooses a sentence in the book, he reads it mentally and looks at his girlfriend to try to pronounce it. "Je suis... une baguette?"

Y/n burst out laughing.

"You just said it's a baguette!"

"Well, I'm Australian, I can be whatever I want. Including a baguette." He says amusedly, with a smile on his face as he watches his girlfriend laugh at the next table.

"If it depends on our French, we will die of hunger in Paris.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The Piastri house was radiant with Christmas decorations. The yard was lit up, the garlands on the windows, and even Thilly's house, the family's golden retriever, was decorated with lights and a giant red bow on the roof.

In the kitchen, Y/N was helping Nicole, Oscar's mother, prepare dessert for dinner. She was stirring a pot on the stove while Nicole organized the ingredients on the counter.

"So, Y/N, how are you dealing with both of your busy calendars? It must be crazy." Oscar's mom asks.

Y/n smiles "It's busy, but it's worth it. Especially since we make a point of visiting each other whenever we can. We understand that our schedules are tight" she smiles more, looking at her mother-in-law as she walked past her daughter-in-law and placed a hand on her shoulder .

"Hey, I heard something about me!" Oscar walks into the kitchen, grabbing a soda from the fridge.

Nicole laughs and Y/n rolls her eyes smiling, as she turns off the stove.

"I was just saying how terrible you are in the kitchen," Y/n jokes, placing the pan on the table and looking for a serving dish.

Oscar laughs, leaning against the counter,

"But you know, Nicole...he makes up for it with flowers and dinners" Y/n says shyly, looking at her mother-in-law. Who watched the scene in wonder.

Oscar walks up to his girlfriend and hugs her from behind.

"You know what else I'm good at? Choosing an amazing girlfriend." He kisses his girlfriend's neck. "And also..." he whispers something in her ear, making Y/n turn red as pepper.

"OSCAR!!!" She says loudly, afraid his mother might have heard. "Your mother is here!" She hits her boyfriend on the chest and he smiles.

"I didn't see or hear anything!" Nicole raises her hands as she walks around the kitchen, making the couple laugh.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was a quiet night in Y/n and Oscar's apartment. They were on the couch, curled up under a blanket, watching a random movie. The low light in the living room created a cozy atmosphere, and the sound of the rain hitting the window completed the perfect setting.

Y/n had her head resting on Oscar's chest, while he absentmindedly played with the strands of her hair. The movie seemed to be far from holding both of their attention, but neither of them wanted to leave.

"Did you know you snore when you sleep on the couch?" Oscar breaks the silence with a mischievous smile.

Y/n lifts her head, pretending to be offended. "I DON'T snore!"

"He snored last week when he slept here after that long flight. I even recorded it..." He takes out his phone, ready to prove it.

"Oscar Piastri, if you recorded it, I swear I'll make you sleep on the carpet!" Y/n laughs, trying to grab the phone from his hands.

He turns away and pulls her closer, hugging her sideways. "Okay, okay. Maybe I overreacted... But you're adorable even when you're snoring."

Y/n rolls her eyes but smiles. "You're insufferable, you know that?"

"And you're stubborn, but I think I love you anyway." The sentence comes out unpretentiously, but the weight of it hangs in the air for a few seconds.

Y/n freezes, looking at Oscar. He looked relaxed, but there was a slight tension in his smile, as if he was waiting for her reaction.

"Do you... love me?" She asks, with a shy smile and her heart racing.

"I do. Quite a bit, actually." He laughs nervously, running a hand over the back of his neck. "I thought it was kind of obvious, but... now it's there, I said."

Y/n feels her cheeks burn, but she can't hide the happiness written all over her face. She leans in to kiss him lightly, before whispering, "I love you too."

Oscar smiles like a kid who just won the biggest prize in the world. "You know, now you can't complain when I prove you snore."

Y/n laughs, hugging him again. "You ruin all the cute moments, you know that?"

"Ah, but you love me anyway."

They kiss again, while the movie continues to fade into the background, as does anything else that wasn't the two of them at that moment.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

They were at a racetrack while Oscar was training with the McLaren team. It was the end of the day, and only the team was in the garage. That weekend Y/n managed to travel to see her boyfriend.

"Hey, do you want to train with me?" Oscar asks, holding out a helmet in front of her.

She widens her eyes and smiles.

"But with what car?" She picks up her helmet, excited about the idea.

"You can go with mine, Lando lent me his!" Oscar says smiling.

"So, ready to get your ass kicked?!!" Y/n smiles, putting on her helmet.

"Keep dreaming, princess!" Oscar sighs and kisses her helmet. "I'm a Formula 1 driver."

"Honey, you may be an F1 driver, but I'll be your boss here on the track when I win." She smiles mischievously.

After deciding to do three laps and complete them, Y/n arrives first at the garage, getting out of the car and laughing, while taking off her helmet and waiting for Oscar.

30 seconds later, he arrives in the garage behind her.

"Who really got beat up?? OSCAR PIASTRI!!! She screams, standing next to the car as Oscar gets out of his teammate's car.

"Calm down, honey! I was going slow so as not to hurt your ego." Piastri smiles, approaching his girlfriend.

The engineers began to put away the equipment and cars.

"Of course, of course! And I'm the Queen of England!" Y/n jokes, tossing her hair back.

Oscar rolls his eyes with a smile, placing his hands on his girlfriend's waist and pulling her in for an unexpected kiss.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was an F1 Academy event, where the Y/N team invited McLaren to promote the partnership. Oscar and Y/n crossed paths for the first time, in the hallway near the stage, as they were preparing to go into an interview with the teams.

"Hi, you must be Y/n Y/s, right? I've heard a lot about you!" Oscar comes up behind the woman, making her turn around and smile, while adjusting the microphone in her ear.

"Hey, I do!!" She sighs and shakes the hand Oscar had extended. "I hope I heard good things!" She laughs.

"Yes, only good things," he smiles. "By the way, Oscar Piastri!"

"I heard about you too. Great race last time, and congratulations on winning the GP. It was amazing" she smiles, seeing some people asking for them to come on stage.

"Thanks. But from what I've seen, you're not far behind either. The F1 Academy has a rising star."

Y/n smiles shyly, while picking at her fingernails.

"If that means you'll be nervous competing with me one day, I'll take the compliment."

Oscar looks at her with a twinkle in his eye: "We'll see who gets nervous. But I think I'll enjoy following your journey."

"Only if it doesn't get in your way." Y/n lets out a small laugh.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The weeks had passed, and Oscar was still by Yin's side in the hospital. Nicole had taken a flight a few days ago to help with her daughter-in-law, telling Oscar to rent a hotel room to rest while she took care of the young woman.

Oscar was a little doubtful at first, but he trusted his mother a lot and knew that whatever happened to Y/n in the hospital, she would call him immediately.

At the moment, he was walking down the hallway to her room, after having spent a few hours in the hotel room trying to rest and taking a hot bath.

He had some of Yin's clothes in the suitcase he had brought, along with some take-out snacks he had bought at the market next door. When he opened the bedroom door, he saw that there was empty, without Yin's bed with her and without his mother. He began to panic, until Nicole came out of the bathroom.

"Mom?? Where's Y/n?" He says, placing the suitcase on the armchair and feeling his heart race.

"Calm down, son," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder, trying to convey calm.

"The doctors came to get her to run some tests. They said she's responding well to the medications and procedures and..." She hesitated, but a slight smile lit her face. "They said she could wake up from her coma at any moment."

She was going to wake up. Certainty took hold of Oscar, making him sigh in relief and let a few tears fall.

They stayed in the room talking, while they waited for the doctors to bring Y/n back. And when they arrived, they brought good news for the family. Y/n no longer needed so many tubes attached to her, and the fractures were progressing well. Oscar smiled, when he saw that his girlfriend now only needed an oxygen tube to help her breathing.

All those wires attached to her made Oscar's stomach turn.

"I'm going to rest a little and call her family to tell them the good news. If there's anything I'll be downstairs at the reception." Nicole said smiling at her son, while Oscar pulled the armchair as close as possible to Y/n's bed.

"It's okay, Mom! Thanks for staying with her...for everything, really..." Nicole reaches over and kisses the top of her little boy's head.

"Anything for you guys, I love you," she says, walking out the door and closing it.

He turned to look at her face. For the first time in weeks, Y/n looked at peace. Her face, once marked by bruises and swelling, now had only small, almost invisible scars. He smiled, taking her hand and caressing it.

"I heard you brought good news, you know?" he began in a soft, almost whispered tone. "I can't wait to see you awake and tell you how much I love you... But you already know that, right?" He chuckled, remembering how she always made fun of his nervous manner.

Oscar sighs deeply, before starting to talk to her. Even though she didn't answer, he knew that Y/n was listening to everything around her.

"You know, I was remembering the bedtime conversations we had... There was one time when you started talking about kids. At that moment, I almost panicked, thinking you wanted them now. You laughed so hard at my expression that I almost cried with relief." He smiled as he remembered. "You said it was something for the distant future, but you liked to plan things. And then you asked me if I liked the idea of having little knots running around. I said yes. That was the day I fell in love even more for you. That smile you have... sweet and bright... makes me want everything with you." He looked at her face. "Remember that day?"

For a second, he felt pressure on his hand. As if someone had squeezed it. His eyes widened and he looked at his girlfriend's hand, which he was holding.

"Y/n?? Honey!!" Oscar says, now feeling and seeing her hand move. "Honey, I'm here!! I'm waiting for you!" She squeezes his hand again, making tears fall down Oscar's face.

That was when she coughed, breaking the silence. The cough was weak, but the sound made Oscar jump up. The oxygen tube was in the way, and she looked uncomfortable.

Oscar acted quickly, running to the door and calling for the nurses and doctors, his heart racing with excitement and nervousness. The room began to fill with professionals, while Oscar stood in a corner so as not to disturb them, feeling that from that moment on, everything would be fine.

Y/n was awake while the neurosurgeon did some tests and questions to her, and she answered with the right answers. Before leaving, the doctor looks at Oscar, smiling friendly and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, she's awake!"

Oscar lowers his head, smiling and hiding his tears. "Yeah, she's awake!" He smiles. "Thank you," Oscar thanks before the doctor leaves the room with the nurses. He approaches slowly, as if he still can't believe she's there, awake. A living, breathing Y/n, looking at him.

The youngest sees the pilot approaching her bed with a smile, taking her hand, the one who had moved in the coma moments before.

"Hey honey!" He smiled, letting the tears fall.

Y/n, always the jokester in the relationship, frowned and pulled her hand away slightly, stifling a laugh. "Who are you?"

Oscar froze. For a second, the world around him seemed to disappear, and he felt his breath catch in his throat. His mind went into a panic, searching desperately for something on her face—some clue, some sign that this was a joke.

Until he heard it. A faint, drawn-out laugh, but so familiar that it made his heart stop for another reason.

"Hey, honey, I do know you. I was just messing with you." Y/n smiled, now squeezing his hand tighter, her eyes shining with a humor that only she had.

"Do you want to scare me to death?" Oscar let out a deep sigh as he smiled and squeezed her hand.

She smiled tiredly: "Oh stop, I knew you could handle it, Piastri."

Oscar can't stop smiling, approaching and placing a hand on her face.

"You have no idea how scared I was all these days. Your voice cracking on the radio, your car flipping over countless times, the doctor's news that you were in a coma. I thought I was going to lose you... I was so scared..." He whispers, his voice thick with tension, but relieved that she was okay now. "I stayed by your side every day for the past few weeks... I was afraid that I would go to rest and you would be gone..." Oscar cries, lowering his head.

A few tears fell from Y/n's face as well.

"That's why you have that zombie face, you haven't slept in days!" she says to lighten the tense atmosphere between them.

Oscar lifts his head and laughs, "Yeah, I couldn't sleep peacefully while you were here!"

Y/n smiles without showing her teeth. A tired smile, but that same sweet smile that Oscar loved.

"It all happened so fast..." she begins telling her story. "The radio started to fail, the steering wheel wasn't as stable on the straights and suddenly I found myself face to face with the curve, I tried to brake but when I realized it, the car was already in the air and flipping over. I only had a few more seconds before I passed out, and in that time I could only think about you... I could only think about how to get back to you. And then everything went black" She says, crying softly and Oscar caressing her cheek, and wiping away the silent tears.

"But hey, you're here now. You found a way to come back to us."

Y/n smiles, nodding in agreement.

"But, you know... even when I was unconscious, I heard you. Every day. I heard you calling me, telling me that I was strong, that I was going to be okay."

Oscar's eyes widen, smiling excitedly: "Did you hear me?"

"Yes. I heard you telling me about all the moments we spent together, and how you wanted me to come back so I could continue living by my side." She smiles, now holding her boyfriend's face. "And you know... I also remember that night when I brought up the subject of children!" She smiles, making Oscar laugh.

"Always scaring me half to death" Piastri smiles.

A little light in Oscar's mind turns on, signaling that now was a good time to reveal what he had been thinking for so long.

"Y/n... I don't think I've ever said it in so many words, but... I love you. Not just in a simple way, but in a deep way, that takes my breath away and makes my heart ache just thinking about losing you." Without realizing it, he puts his hand in his coat pocket, holding a small velvet box. "And after everything we've been through these weekends and in all our relationship history, I don't want to wait anymore, I don't want to wait for the right moment, I don't want to spend even one more second away from you..." he places the ring box in front of his girlfriend, Y/n feels her breath catch in her lungs, almost asking for the oxygen tube again. "I've been carrying this in my pocket for about 5 months, every time we travel and go out together, thinking that there would be the right moment to ask, but here and now, I feel like it's the best moment we have, because I don't want to be away from you anymore. Y/n Y/s, will you marry me? Be my partner in all the curves of life, in all the ups and downs?" He kneels down, opening the box and showing the engagement ring.

Y/n felt the tears fall from her face, if it was the coma, she didn't want to wake up. Because it was the most beautiful dream she could ever imagine having in her life, until Oscar entered her and messed everything up for the better.

"Oscar... do you have any idea how much of an impact you have on my heart? Literally, because right now I think it's going to need a defibrillator." Oscar laughs at his soon-to-be-engaged girlfriend's comment. "Now, seriously... proposing to someone while she's got her arm in a bandage, her hair in a bird's nest and she's on a life support machine? Is that how you want me to remember this moment?"

Piastri smiles with tears in her eyes: "I want you to remember how much I love you. Because even so, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. And because I can't go another second without knowing that you will be mine forever."

Y/n takes a deep breath, letting the tears fall: "Oscar Piastri, you are completely crazy... and I accept it. Of course I accept to marry you!"

The pilot feels the air return to his lungs, smiling broadly and carefully approaching to place a soft kiss on the bride's lips. Then, he lovingly slides the shiny ring onto her finger.

She looks at the ring, and then at her fiancé, with a genuine smile on her face before saying.

"You know you're going to have to ask me again when I look halfway decent, right?"

Oscar laughs, "Okay. I promise to ask you every day, just in case."

#fanfiction #y/n #romance #lovers #marriage #imagines #one shot #imagines oscar piastri #oscar piastri #formula 1 #formula one #drive

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abbysimsfun · 2 days ago

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Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 115 (Getting Cozy With New Friends?)

The events of this post occurred after New Year's Eve at the Salty Paw (Generation 2 Pts. 106 and 107).

After an eventful holiday season, Heather Nesbitt phoned her youngest sister on New Year's Day. Hazel checked the call display and forced a smile. "Hey Big Sis, what are you up to?"

"Hey, Little Dandelion. Just watching the Holiday Yule Log on repeat (totally autonomously) before I do some bookkeeping for the clinic. Helps me focus, and they haven't taken it off the air yet this year. How are you doing?"

"Pretty awful," Hazel admitted. "I'm sorry we just left without saying goodbye last night. We were too busy giving each other the cold shoulder all the way back to Henford."

"Don't apologize. I'm glad you got home safely, but I know things between you aren't okay. I think we all hoped things would get better after you talked on Winterfest Day."

"We didn't really talk. We skated and went home and just didn't fight for a few days."

Heather frowned. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Hazel shook her head. "Not right now. I want to have a nap and then get out of the house for the night. It's weird being here surrounded by her family all the time. I feel like her mother and brother are constantly judging me."

"They love Nicola like we love you," Heather said. "But she shouldn't talk to you like she does. You don't deserve it. I'm willing to bet that a lot of what she's going through isn't even really about you."

Hazel sighed. "I just make it all worse."

Heather loved her baby sister and would always support her, but she never would have advised Hazel's next move.

To end a New Year's Day where Hazel spent as much time avoiding Nicola and her family as possible, she found herself drinking screwdrivers at the pub that night. She was alone, again, until she met Suri Romeo and flirted over drinks until well after midnight.

When the pub closed, they continued with a stroll along the River Bagley. The place near the village green, which had earlier that day been packed with locals for the annual Polar Bear Swim, was devoid of any lamplights, but Hazel could still make out Suri's smile in the light of the moon. "Are you happily married, Hazel?"

She didn't want to answer and pulled Suri in for a kiss. It felt electric - nothing like the kisses she shared with her wife. Not now, and maybe not ever.

But she thought of Nicola back home, probably asleep and snoring a little. Her wedding vows meant she wasn't supposed to do this, and she pulled away with a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry," she said. "My wife."

Suri nodded with an understanding smile. "I'm living with my grandparents at their farm in Old New Henford. Call me when you figure out some things."

But Hazel called Suri long before she had anything "figured out," inviting her to the first Finchwick Fair of the new year. "I have to be there with Mayor Varner, but it's really a great opportunity for you to live like a true Henford local," she told Suri, and they met outside the village green on a sunny winter afternoon.

"Did your wife not want to be here?" Suri wondered.

"She's grading papers and the Finchwick Fair isn't really her thing. She loves gardening, but she hasn't done much of it lately." Nicola recalled the woman she used to know with some regret before quickly brushing it away and returning her focus to Suri. "Here, I saw this video that made me think of you. It's a cat, but he's a chef. It's called ChefCat!"

They were interrupted by friendly Mayor Varner, who was happy to meet anyone in his town at any time. "Hello there! I'd never miss a new face!"

"Mayor Varner, this is Suri Romeo. She's just moved to town to learn to be a great chef from her grandmother, Clara Bjergsen."

"Ah! The Bjergsens are wonderful citizens! And your grandmother's baked goods are the reason I'm out of shape."

Suri smiled. "Hopefully one day I'll be just as good as she is."

"You'll have a wonderful mentor. Welcome to town, Miss Romeo!" He turned to a starry-eyed Nicola. "How are those new year's reports coming, Hazel?"

"I should be done this week, sir. It's a lot of information to put together."

He frowned. They both knew he'd expected those reports on his desk last week, but the work was a drag, and he'd given her too many previous extensions. She forced a smile for her boss.

When it got a little cooler, Hazel and Suri went inside the pub to warm up. They danced to some holiday music still playing on the in-house stereo, before Hazel pulled a sprig of mistletoe from the ceiling. "Laura must've forgotten to take this down with the rest of the Winterfest decorations," she mused, but she held it playfully over her head anyway. Suri laughed, leaning in to kiss her quickly on the lips.

Hazel glanced around. The bar was mostly empty with most patrons enjoying the fair outside, but they knew they shouldn't be spotted doing what they were doing.

They continued to see one another in secret, hanging out at the community garden in Old New Henford to get to know one another. Suri told Hazel about life growing up in an apartment in San Myshuno with her parents and brothers, and about visits to Henford to see her grandparents and aunts every summer. She even told her about her mother's cousin Olivia, who was a basketball star at Foxbury Institute.

Hazel was happy to talk about her family - her parents, her sisters, her brother, all her in-laws and nieces and nephews - but not her wife. And she knew her friendship with Suri was dangerous. She wanted Suri all to herself and didn't want her wife to know anything about her.

As the snow melted beneath her jacket, Hazel would cloudgaze (even in Henford's mild, sunny winter climate) and imagine herself with Suri. Not Nicola.

She knew marriage counseling was the best course of action, but when she looked at Nicola, she didn't want to do it. When Suri entered her life, she could finally admit to herself what she'd tried to mask for years. Hazel was no longer attracted to her objectively beautiful wife, and no amount of counseling would bring her feelings back.

She grew increasingly careless in her time spent with Suri. She told Suri she wanted out, but conversations with Nicola these days always ended in tears. She didn't tell anyone what was going on because she knew they'd tell her to be better. To talk to Nicola, to end things with Suri before they went too far, to be a bigger person. She'd lost her will to care about any of it.

On Sportsball Sunday, Hazel wanted to go to the Gnome's Arms to watch the game. River had invited her to her childhood home, but Suri would be at the pub. She was getting ready to go when her girlfriend surprised her at home in the Bramblewood.

"What are you doing here? I was just leaving."

"I came to tell you my little cousin Jada heard at school that you and I are seeing each other."

Hazel froze. If kids at school were talking about Mrs. Moody-Nesbitt's wife having an affair, then... Sure enough, Nicola met them in the yard with a churlish grin.

"Oh good! You're both here, so I only need to get mad once before I forget either of you and leave while Hazel packs her things."

Hazel was quiet, letting Nicola unleash a torrent of disappointment at her affair. "It kills me Hazel. I wanted a family with you. It's all we talked about for years, but then I lost my dad and you cheated. And I found out at work, which is so embarrassing! My schedule was never the problem when it came to counseling. I worked the same schedule every day, I came home - you're the one who always had somewhere else to be."

Hazel was defeated and ready to leave, and she apologized for embarrassing her. "I shouldn't have been with Suri behind your back, but what are we really salvaging anymore, Nic? I'm sorry."

Nicola scowled. "Oh, you're done? Hazel, I already got the divorce papers from the courthouse. Sign them and get out of my house."

Though Nicola put on a confident facade while she took the initiative to end their union, they both left the marriage with regrets. They could have tried harder, if they were really meant to be. But more than anything, they could have waited to get married. Maybe then they'd never have married at all, and their differences wouldn't have been so hard to take.

And now, with the sunny weather betraying their broken hearts, Hazel Nesbitt and Nicola Moody-McMillan had shared their last cozy celebrations together.

How would each move on from here? ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

The answers to that question! Nicola's next chapter begins here as a contestant on Dating Deanna, a reality TV series debuting in January by @changingplumbob, where dozens of contestants will compete for the heart of beautiful bachelorette Deanna York.

Hazel lives with the Nesbitt-Gordons for now, so we'll follow her story with Heather and her crew in Sims In Bloom!

This was hardly cozy, but I've written a couple surprise bonus posts for tomorrow/my Christmas Day that are much more fun, and they finish off the reward event with a lot less angst and drama!

NOTE: For the record, I believe in working on a marriage, but Hazel and Nicola's compatibility was awful once Lovestruck patched in. They truly grew apart, not at all together, and didn't have enough desire to put in the work to save their short-lived marriage. Then Hazel met Suri and they were flirty and got along so much better, so I figured she and Nicola might both be happier without each other and they divorced.

While Hazel has a potential someone, I was trying to think about what to do with Nicola when Dating Deanna was announced. I thought this was perfect because now I don't have to plot her next chapter, and if she doesn't win Deanna's heart she'll return with new lore and backstory to write for.

I know she has few fans these days and that's fine! But when she's with the right person and not cheated on (entering a bachelorette competition could really test her), Nicola will put in the work. She's too good and family oriented not to. Hazel, on the other hand, should possibly reckon with why she chose to cheat and not leave...

#sims 4 #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 legacy #sims in bloom #ts4 #ts4 gameplay #ts4 legacy #ts4 screenshots #sims 4 story #ts4 story #legacy challenge #sims legacy #ts4 legacy challenge #gen 2 #henford on bagley #cozy celebrations #cassandra goth #kim goldbloom

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the-odd-shu · 2 hours ago

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Fluffy scenarios for clear skin

Another Lab Illustrator Reader installation!

Masterlist

Characters: Jayce, Viktor, Gender Neutral Reader (Reader uses they/them pronouns)

Established: Jayce/Viktor/Reader (POLYCULLLEEE)

Reader to Jayce: Do you ever look at Viktor when he's thinking and want to kiss every inch of his face?

Jayce taking a slow sip from his hot drink: No. I think he would bite me if I tried.

Reader: Maybe. But whenever he pouts, his eyes go all thoughtful and distant, and I can hardly control myself.

Jayce: Please continue to control yourself. I don't want to have to write an accident report because you lost a nose.

Reader sighs again: Would you bite my nose off if I kissed every inch of your face instead?

Jayce no-rizz Talis then proceeds to choke and nearly perish on his drink.

In summary, Reader's partners sometimes give them cuteness aggression.

Just the image of Viktor doing that adorable pouting face, and Reader calmly setting down their pen, getting up, crossing over to Jayce's desk to get rid of their cuteness aggression via kisses on poor Jayce instead.

I kind of like the idea of them doing this instead of crowding Viktor when he's clearly trying to think. Whereas Jayce is just constantly on the look out for touch and validation, so it works out great for him. He melts under the attention, more than happy to put his notes aside for a moment in favour of a rather lovely excuse for a break.

They're quiet about it, but sometimes the movement will pull Viktor out of his musings regardless, and he'll just frown at the pair of them acting like idiots.

And if he insinuates he's feeling a little left out, you bet Reader is going to calmly drag him close and touch temples with him - a deeply personal Zaunite display of affection - which would have a whole new adorable expression appearing on Viktor's face and would send Reader IMMEDIATELY into going back to attack Jayce instead of smothering to poor, overwhelmed man.

In a similar vein of thinking, it would definitely be manadatory for Reader to give into it, just once.

Maybe Jayce is conveniently out of the room, and maybe Viktor is just RIGHT THERE, PLAINLY in sight. And maybe, just this once they SIMPLY CANNOT contain themselves. Viktor is right there and they're not getting any work done because they can't tear their eyes off him.

So they give in, and pepper Viktor's adorable pout with kisses. And the man is just BAFFLED! It takes him a moment to understand what is happening, and then he's letting out flustered strings of words in both his mother's tongue and Piltovern Common, and he's shoving them away by their cheeks.

Reader of course isn't deterred, and just ends up grabbing the hand to kiss his knuckles. Viktor glares down at them with a look of resignation and burning red ears.

Jayce comes in like: what did I miss.

Reader: Turns out he doesn't bite.

Viktor: Not yet. Don't tempt me.

Jayce is rewarded with a forehead touch for simply existing that time round - the significance is not lost on him and he feels touched.

Viktor's that choatic boyfriend that hears you complaining about a colleague one too many times, and then proceeds to inconvenience them in the most subtle and irritating way known to man, all whilst giving you a shit-eating little smirk as he sits back and watches the world burn.

"That fucker giving you trouble Darling? No worries, I stole all of his left socks and buried them in the staff room plant pot after hours."

"They said what about Jayce?" A beat of silence.

"Viktor?! Where are you going with that washing up liquid."

"Nowhere." Very obviously makes his way to the kitchen.

Said co-worker that was talking shit then begins complaining that every cup of coffee they make tastes like soap!

Someone talks shit about their partners:

Jayce 'can we talk about this' Talis: "here is a thirty page essay as to why you're wrong, and I have a PowerPoint slide prepared with additional evidence if you will please take a seat and allow me to reeducate you."

Viktor who will resort to psychological warfare to get his point across correcting them, whilst also blatantly gaslighting them into believing that Jayce and Reader can do no wrong, and they were in fact crazy for insinuating such cruel things about either of them to begin with.

Reader who stabs first with their artist-grade scalpel, and asks questions when they're incapacitated and bleeding out on their floor: "Say that again, to my face this time. Go on, I dare you."

(There is a reason why Jayce and Viktor ((the pacifists)) do not teach Reader how to use any of the hextech devices. They will commit murder and refuse to regret it whilst Jayce sweats bullets and Viktor stares on, mouth aghast by the sheer brutality of said murder).

"He deserved it," Reader will explain simply.

And Viktor will go, "perhaps, BUT YOU COULD HAVE LEFT HIS HEAD ATTACHED!"

Jayce who's trauma raises its head when his partners are cold. Blankets. Warm drinks. Heating on full blast. That snow storm did a number on him and he HATES the winter because of it.

Are you shivering? Is Viktor? No stress, he shall simply have to BECOME the blanket to keep you both alive and well. It is as sweet as it is heartbreaking.

Viktor who's upbringing in Zaun sometimes makes him precious with food. Not because he was starving, but because sometimes he couldn't have as much food as he wanted, simply because money was tight growing up.

Maybe he has a sweet treat, and ends up breaking it into threes to share with you and Jayce.

Maybe there's only one tea bag left, so he settles for water, despite having REALLY wanted that cup of warm tea.

Maybe he's waiting for seconds for dinner, but there's only enough left for two more portions, so he says he's not hungry anymore.

Viktor who will sometimes feel the gnaw of hunger but make a hot drink to soothe his stomach instead of actually eating something, because its only so far into the day, and if he doesn't eat now, then he won't be as hungry later-

Safe to say, his partners notice. And Jayce keeps the kitchenette well stocked with drinks and snacks alike, whilst Reader will stop by a bakery or cafe in the morning to bring him a proper breakfast, as well as breakfast for themselves and Jayce so he doesn't feel like he HAS to share.

#arcane #arcane season 1 #arcane jayce #arcane viktor #jayce x viktor x reader #jayce x reader #jayce talis #jayce x viktor #jayce league of legends #viktor x reader #viktor arcane #chaotic scenarios #they're TOO cute #A little bit of an exploration into their potential dynamic #I like to brainstorm potential scenarios these three could get up to

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earlycuntsets · 8 hours ago

Text

"mikey way

"me and gerard, we're the best friends in the world"

Once again, we meet Mikey Way. But this time this guy talks soooooo much. Hi hi hi! Never thought Mikey could be this chatty!

Long coat and black jeans, that's the outfit worn by Mikey Way when he met W at the Malia Hotel, Thursday afternoon, January 31, 2008. Wow, he looked really neat. But when watching MCR's concert a few hours later, it turned out that Mikey was also wearing the same costume, he he he. It's very clear that his long coat and all-black jeans are not just a style but an important part of his identity.

Anyway… Mikey looked relaxed as he shook hands with W. As a small talk, W of course asked him what he thought about Jakarta. He answered honestly. "So far, great. But I haven't been here long. Only 12 hours, only half a day. So, you know." He said as he took a large white plastic cup of coffee from the table in front of him. His hands looked a little shaky.

Gosh, Mikey, the conversation has become so serious, huh, he he he. W reminds me that the name My Chemical Romance was taken from one of the books Mikey read when he was still working at Barnes & Noble bookstore, namely Ecstasy: Three Tales of Chemical Romance by Irvine Welsh. mentioned by Mikey, here. Wow, it seems so funny to imagine Mikey being a bookworm, huh? Apart from Gerard being the vocalist and frontman of My Chem, he is still Mikey's 'big brother'. So, let's just start asking about Gerard, shall we?

Mmm, maybe we can start with a question that's not too direct, huh…

What's the most annoying thing about Gerard?

"Him? There's nothing bad about him. Even if there's something annoying, it makes me love him even more. Ha ha. Even if there's something bad about him, it's endearing. Gera is a very talented and admirable individual."

What is the annoying side of you in Gerard's eyes?

"Me? Well, I don't know. Ha ha. Maybe you guys better ask Gerard directly, haha ha."

Have you two ever fought?

"We have. It's natural. But not too often. In a few years maybe."

Can you tell us a little bit about how you and Gerard are actually brothers? what kind?

"We're the best friends in the world. We always hang out together. We always talk. Especially when we're on tour, we always share a room in a hotel. only once we fought, ha ha ha. We barely fight."

Do you still have time to read a book?

"Yes, I still am. Right now I'm reading Needful Things by Stephen King. This is actually my second time reading it, he he he."

Wow, you really like horror stories, huh?

"Ha ha ha, yes. I like horror novels and also horror movies. Stephen King is a great horror writer. Many of his books are horror themed. I really like Stephen King."

From early on, it seemed like Gerard did most of the talking.

"I only talk when necessary. Not only me, Frank, Bob and Ray have also. But more often than not we have to take care of our own musical instruments, so we leave that responsibility to Gerard, he he he."

Totally agree, Mikey Unfortunately, Gerard isn't there, hu hu hu!

On stage, Gerard is the same. Have you ever joined in the conversation with the audience?

"Well, yes sure. I have."

Anyway, really happy to chat with you. Lately, MCR has been using piano players a lot at concerts, huh?

"We do everything like other big bands do."

Are there plans to make James Dewees a permanent member of MCR?

Oh, James. He's already become My Chem family member since ama. Even though he is not a member of MCR, he is our friend. We have also known him for a long time. Besides, we like the sound of our concert piano. So, we keep using it.

Why, the hell, is the sound of the piano so important to MCR?

"Piano is the basis for all music. Since we know a cool piano player like James Dewees, we might as well include him in the line-up. Unfortunately, James is currently at sound check, so he can't be here."

My Chem, that's how Mikey shortens the name My Chemical Romance. Frankly, W also knows nothing, he he he. When asked when My Chem (yikes, I'm following Mikey) will release a new album, Mikey said it would be around early or mid 2009. Wow, that's still quite a long time away, huh. When W asked about My Chem's three previous albums, this guy remained enthusiastic, cas cis cus.(?)

Tell us about the metamorphosis from the first to the third album…

"Sure sure"

Album: Bullets

"We were still very young. We were in our early 20s and we had only been in the band for about 10 months. Every song that was created at that time was indeed in accordance with our condition at that time. If you listen to it, you will definitely feel the nuances of My Chem now. The songs on the first album are like 'the younger brother of The Black Parade,

Is the creative process different?

"Let's see… The first album, / was really green, he he he. Gerard was also very young. We felt more spontaneous. The second album, Three Cheers… was more mature, more aggressive. The longer it went on, the clearer it became in The Black Parade. The difference was probably with the presence of Bob on drums. He is one of the phenomenal drummers. Many people say so. Because of Bob, The Black Parade seemed touching on many musical genres."

What if someone says that The Black Parade sounds smoother than previous albums?

"Technically, yes. The first album was made in the basement. The sound was rough. But eventually we had a bigger studio and had more time to prepare the material."

adhika annisa, marti photo: yudha

08/2008 kawanku (indonesia) from mcrhollywood

english translation done by google translate

#english translation by google edited by me #mikey way #2008 #black parade era #black parade is dead era #my chemical romance #mcr #not my scans at any time #mcrhollywood #mcr scans #gerard way #ray toro #frank iero

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silencesscreams · 17 hours ago

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hiii, idk if ur still active but I love ur writing and I was wondering if u could maybe do a james smut with a Christmas theme! tyyy💓

Merry Christmas, I miss you

james potter x f!reader

summary: you and James have been broken up since Halloween. Until he calls you on Christmas Day after finding out that you both were spending the evening alone. (muggle+modern day au)

warnings: use of y/n, reader is shorter than James, swearing, smut (MDNI!), afab reader, nipple sucking, oral/fingering (f receiving), praise!!!, penetration, multiple orgasms(2), slight dom!james, reader has hair long enough to be stroked, kind of make-up sex tbh, unprotected + use of the pill, creampie, not proofread at all 😭

a/n: thank you so so much for requesting! I immediately thought of this song, hope you like it <3

You hated spending Christmas alone.

When your family was getting plane tickets two months ago, you said you’d spend Christmas with James, who also cancelled his plans with his family, just for him to break up with you two weeks later.

There was no one you could spend the end of year holidays with, all of your friends were with their families or together.

James absolutely hated the silence in his apartment.

Sirius and Remus were spending the holiday together at cabin they found online and Peter had gone home to his family.

James hated having brought this upon himself.

Were you with somebody else out there? Were you meeting their family? Were they in your apartment?

It was killing him.

What he hated most of all was breaking up with you during a stupid fight which he didn’t even remember the reason why it happened. He just remembers being drunk and stupid.

So he called Sirius, because that was what he usually did when things went to shit, and also because Sirius was close to you and he would probably know what James had been asking himself for the past hour.

The phone rang about six times until he finally picked up.

“What do you want?”

“What do you think y/n is doing right now?” He heard Sirius groan.

“Why do you care about what she’s doing?” James didn’t answer. “She’s alone at her place, don’t call her.”

“You think I should call her?” He decided to ignore any advice that went against whatever he wanted.

“God, he’s so fucking confusing.” he heard Remus say.

“Moony, do you think I should call her?”

“James, you’re going to do whatever you want, aren’t you?”

“Always, but that’s not the point.”

“Do what your heart says and leave us alone pleeeeaseee!” Sirius said and hung up.

James dialed your number on his phone, he memorized it so there was no real meaning to why he deleted it a while ago.

When you read the name on your phone’s screen once it started vibrating you thought you’d faint.

You wished that he had butt dialed you, or that maybe he called the wrong person. You knew you were wrong.

“James?” You said as you picked up and paused the TV in front of you.

“y/n. Hi, merry Christmas.” He sat up straight on the couch. “What are you doing?”

You couldn’t believe him.

“What?” You asked, even though you heard him clearly the first time.

“What are you doing tonight?”

So he was booty calling you on Christmas, was that it?

“I’m currently watching every single sitcom Christmas episode I can think of. You?”

“I’ve been staring at the ceiling for the past three hours. Are you by yourself?”

“Yes.” You replied, almost whispering. You couldn’t understand him.

“Me too. Can I come pick you up? We could maybe watch every single sitcom Christmas episode together. I have some food here.” He was already getting up and putting on his shoes outside of the apartment.

“Sure.”

You sighed after hanging up, what could go wrong? You’d go, you’d eat his food, you wouldn’t hook up with him and you’d be home by midnight. It was fine. Everything was under control.

Until you got into his car.

Until you felt his smell, the three in one shampoo that had the sweetest smell a three in one shampoo could ever have.

“Hey, you look great.” He said, looking at you as you put on the seatbelt.

“Thanks, you too.”

“Did you change your hair?” James asked, starting to drive.

“Kind of, yes.” You looked out the window and then back at him. “You look the same.”

He let out a small laugh. “I do.”

It was usually a 10 minute drive from your apartment to his, in which you awkwardly played with the hem of your skirt and made small talk.

“I have some frozen pizza at home, we could make popcorn too if you like, I bought one of those air popping machine things a few weeks ago. Actually, Sirius got that.” He said as he parked the car on the empty street in front of the apartment complex.

“I’d like that.”

Maybe you believed everything was still in control until you entered his apartment, the floor was cold and you left your shoes at the door. He locked it behind you.

“You remember the place don’t you?” You nodded. “There’s a few blankets and a sweater on the couch and you can turn on the TV if you want to. I’ll take the pizza out of the freezer and get the popcorn machine ready.”

You decided on starting with The Office’s season two Christmas episode, then you watch the other eight. Or you’d move to New Girl, then maybe Brooklyn 99, possibly Seinfeld.

“Bad news!” You heard James say from the kitchen. “Theres no corn to pop” he said, coming out and looking at you sitting on the couch.

“It’s alright, how about we watch this one and then I can help you out with the pizza?” You moved to the right side of the couch, inviting him to sit on your left.

You did realize you had no control over anything once he sat and instinctively wrapped his left arm around your shoulder. That might’ve also been when he realized he had no control.

“What are we watching?” He asked as you covered your legs with the blanket on the couch, he pulled some of it to himself and shared with you, your knees touching under it.

“I thought we could start by the office, we obviously won’t watch all of them, so we can move to New Girl afterwards, then maybe we could do Brooklyn 99 or Seinfeld because I know you like those two.” You looked at him and he hummed.

“That’s a good plan.” You smiled at him and started the episode.

When Micheal started talking about the Yankee Swap, James took his left arm from off your shoulder and put it under the covers to scratch his calf. You missed the feeling of him over your shoulders, until he rested his hand on your upper knee.

You felt your entire body go hot until the end of the episode, when he took the blanket from off you both and supported himself on your thigh to get up from the couch, ‘accidentally’ giving it a light squeeze. You thought you were about to go insane and paused the TV, maybe it really was a Christmas booty call.

“I only have pepperoni, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t.”

“Can you put it in the oven? I’ll get us something to drink.”

“Sure.” He brushed his hand against your waist as he moved behind you to open the fridge.

“There’s Diet Coke, wine and orange juice.” He looked back at you.

“Wine.” You answered, watching him take the bottle out along with a can of Coke.

“Aren’t you going to drink with me?” You grabbed two glasses from the cupboard and moved next to him.

“I have to drive you home.” He smiled at you.

“Maybe you shouldn’t.” You smiled back at him.

“I can’t let you walk or uber home.” He put your hair behind your ear.

“I could crash here, if there’s space for me.” You almost whispered, looking at him doe eyed.

“There’s always space for you in my bed.” He stated, his voice low as he poured wine into both of the glasses.

He watched you take a sip and realized you were holding back a laugh.

“What is it?” He smiled.

“This sucks.” You giggled softly. He took a sip from his glass and made a face.

“Oh my god,” he laughed “you have to blame Remus though, I don’t think I bought wine more than once in my entire life.” You smiled, remembering the bottle he brought to your house on your third date. He moved closer to you, resting his hands on your waist.

“I’m sorry about the wine.” He whispered and you felt his breathing against your face, you hummed and looked up at him, moving your hands to the back of his neck, gently stroking his hair.

“Fuck.” He whispered, looking into your eyes. He slowly leaned in, you could feel your heartbeat as he got closer to you. You felt his lips brush against yours and then his phone’s alarm went off, scaring the both of you.

“The damn pizza” he muttered, turning off the oven but not taking the food out. You leaned against the counter and looked at James, who put his hands on your waist again, asking you “Where were we?”, making you laugh for the first time in a while.

You threw your hands over his neck as he hugged you so tightly that you thought maybe you both could merge into one.

“I missed you.” You whispered into his ear.

“Yeah?” He teased you and you hummed. “I missed you so much, love.” He started kissing your neck, holding you tightly by your lower waist.

“I’m so sorry. For everything.” He pulled away, looking into your eyes. “Let me make it up to you, please.” You nodded.

He brought his lips to yours and kissed you quickly.

“Use your words.” He muttered against your mouth and your breath hitched.

“Yes, please.” You replied and he brought his lips back against yours, this time you parted your mouth and he let his tongue slip into it. His lips moved hungrily against yours, the hands on your waist quickly moving to cup your ass firmly. Before you knew it, you were moving against him, glad you’d chosen to wear a skirt as breathy moans slipped from your lips against his.

All of a sudden James pulled his lips away from yours,

“Go to my room, I’ll be there in a second.” He said, pointing to the corridor.

You left the door open and sat on his bed, waiting for him. Everything was the same, except for the photograph of the both of you he had framed and left on his desk, which was now nowhere to be seen. He came into the room with something behind his back.

“I got this for you in November, in case we saw each other today. I know it’s not much but it reminded me of you.” He handed you a black corduroy box, which had a gold necklace with a small heart pendant.

“Oh James, this is so pretty.” You looked at him smiling and closing the box and putting it on his nightstand “I’ll put it on later, thank you so much.”

“Let me make everything up to you, I truly am sorry.” He said, taking off his glasses and sitting in front of you on the bed. You put your hands behind his neck and pulled him in, kissing him gently as he moved closer to you, his knee between your legs.

You laid down and his mouth started to make its way to your neck, giving it soft kisses then gently biting and sucking, making sure to leave a few marks. Meanwhile, his hands trailed their way to your breasts, going under your already loose bra and playing with your nipples. He quickly helped you take off your shirt, also removing his own.

James quickly kissed your mouth and started to trail small kisses from it to your right nipple, which he brought to his mouth and sucked on, nipping at it with his front teeth every once in a while, meanwhile his left hand stimulated your other nipple.

Your hands moved to his hair, stroking it and tugging on it every once in a while, leading to groans that would send vibrations to your breasts.

Suddenly, he pressed his knee against your damp underwear as you desperately tried to get more friction from it, until he held down your hips.

“Let me help you, baby.” he hummed against your chest. “I’m going to take care of you, don’t worry.”

He helped you take off your skirt as you raised your hips, tossing it next to the bed and kissing your tummy, making his way down to your underwear, lowering it and kissing the skin right above your slit, almost where you needed him the most. He started to kiss your inner thighs, going up to your clothed core, pressing another kiss right on top of your covered clit, making you moan as he took off your panties, carefully placing them on top of your skirt on the floor.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered, his breath fanning against your pussy.

He started slowly at first, licking from your entrance to your clit, sucking it in the most careful way he could. Until you couldn’t hold back your moaning and you remembered how James Potter gave head like a starved man.

He held your thighs open as he sucked on your sensitive bud and fucked two fingers into you, making your back arch and causing you release the most incoherent sentences from your mouth, a mix of swearing, the word god and his name, but really, in that moment, the later two were probably the same to you.

Your hands tugged onto his hair as you reached your high, he looked up at you and kept stimulating your clit with his thumb, inserting a third finger into your hole.

“Cum for me, honey.” He said, sensing you were close to your high and going back to sucking your bud.

Your eyes rolled back in pleasure as you moaned out his name, squeezing his head in between your thighs as he carried you through your orgasm.

Once you were finished, James moved up to kiss you. His mouth moving hungrily against yours.

“I want you.” you said as you pulled away, looking into his eyes.

“You already have me, sweetheart.” He smiled, getting up to get something to clean you up with. You pulled him back by the wrist.

“No, I want you in me. Please. ‘Need more.” You said lowly, giving him a quick peck.

“You sure?” You knew he wanted it too, he just wanted to make you feel good and forget about himself for the rest of the night.

“Yes, please James.” You replied, pulling him by the wrist again once he went to reach for a condom in the nightstand drawer. “I want to feel you. I’m on the pill, please.”

He smiled, taking off his sweatpants and going on top of you, his knees pressed against the mattress next to your thighs as he kissed you, tilting your head to deepen it.

He started kissing your neck, giving soft pecks on the marks he had left behind earlier, while taking his length out of his underwear and lining himself up against your entrance, teasing you with his tip as you practically begged him to get inside of you.

“Patience, baby.” He muttered, slowly starting to thrust into your needy hole whilst pulling your right leg up and bending it, almost making your leg shin touch your thigh as he tried to go as deep as possible.

You couldn’t help but moan out his name once he started thrusting and kept hitting the most perfect spot he could whilst stimulating your bean with his thumb. You clenched around his cock as he started to thrust rapidly into you.

“That’s it baby, you’re doing so good.” He’d whisper in between grunts in your ear while you scratched his back in pleasure. “So- mhm so good for me, baby.” He said, his mouth clashing against yours, his tongue entering your mouth as you opened it. You clenched your pussy around him and you both can’t help but moan into each other’s mouths, his thrusts getting faster and his grunts and moans only louder, showing you how close he also is.

You felt your second orgasm building up as he pinched your clit and you squealed onto his tongue, your teeth clashing, causing him to pull away and smile against your mouth, his teeth against your lips.

“Are you close, princess?” He whispered and you replied with a nod, your nose against his cheek. He thrusted quickly and made circular motions on your clit at the same pace. “Hm, cum for me baby, cum on my cock.” He commanded as you reached your second high, pulling him in by the back of his neck to kiss you again. The kiss was sloppy as he shot his load into you and you clenched around him, his thrusts faltering.

He collapsed right next to you, grabbing his glasses on the bedside table to look at you properly.

“You’re so beautiful.” He praised you, smiling as he stroked your hair. “Thank you for picking up. Thank you for being here. For everything.” He whispered.

“Thank you for calling.” You smiled.

“The pizza’s probably cold.” He muttered, looking at his bedroom door.

“I don’t care.” You gave him a peck. “Merry Christmas, James.”

“Merry Christmas, love.”

#lila writes #silencesscreams #james potter x reader #james potter #james potter fic #james potter x y/n #james potter smut #james potter oneshot #james potter fanfiction #james potter x you #james potter imagine #james fleamont potter #James potter x reader smut

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xoxoavenger · 1 day ago

Text

Let It Snow

pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

summary: Y/N and Sam aren't very close, but having to share a cold room could change that.

word count: 3176

warnings: canon typical violence

I'm so sorry this is so late I am trying to get the last 12 days fic out today!!

12 Days of Christmas masterlist main masterlist

Y/N isn't sure how she ended up with the Winchester brothers. She was a good hunter - a great hunter - but they had saved her from a hairy situation with a Rougarou. She felt stupid as soon as it happened, but it did happen and she couldn't go back in time and stop herself from stepping into the trap. Of course, the Winchester brothers had come to save the day.

Dean she didn't mind as much. She wasn't particularly fond of his 'save the damsel in distress' attitude, but once she got closer to them and realized it was clearly his coping mechanism for losing his mother so young, for feeling like he had no control, she could handle him a lot better.

Better than his little brother, Sam, who she wanted to punch at least once a day.

She lived in the bunker with the brothers, since it wasn't like she had a home to go back to and she had been with them when they got the keys. Dean had insisted there was plenty of space, but apparently Sam didn't like this plan. He had rolled his eyes, asked Dean to talk in a different room, but she had still heard the yells from down the hall where she was trying to block it out. She chose that room, the one at the very end of the hall as her own, and Sam had chosen the room Dean vacated after their fight as his. Complete opposite sides of the hallway, Y/N tries her hardest not to run into Sam. He clearly didn't want her here, so she doesn't eat dinner with him, she doesn't watch movies, research in the library, anything. She either takes one of the old cars and spends a couple days God knows where (giving Dean a heart attack every time by the way he blows up her phone) or she spends her time with the mountain of books in her room, taken and returned to the library when Sam's out on hunts.

Which is another problem that makes Dean want to rip out all his hair - the three of them can no longer even go on hunts together. It's always Dean and Sam or Dean and Y/N. And Dean loves to hunt, alright? It's in his blood. But between Sam and Y/N each finding cases, he's exhausted. He can't say he's surprised when he gets sick.

"Dean, I can't just let these people die." Sam says bitchily, and Dean wants to slap his brother. He would, if he wasn't shaking under the mountain of blankets he's piled on his bed.

"I told you to go with Y/N." Dean says. He wants to kill his brother for dragging out his thing with Y/N. She's a sweet girl, and she deserves better than Sam's emotionally inept abuse that he doesn't even realize he's giving.

"She hates me." Sam says with a sad face that rivals a puppy.

"Sam, I'm going to throw up on you right now if you tell another lie." Dean says, and he truly means it.

"Dean!" Sam screeches, moving out of range. "I'm being serious! She avoids me at all costs! She'll have meals with you and watch movies with you, but the second I walk into the room she suddenly has to leave? You tell me what that means."

"I am way too sick for this." Dean groans, because usually he's not the one who has to explain things to his brother like a toddler. "Have you ever thought that maybe she does that because the first day we were here you threw a tantrum about her staying with us?" He asks, head flaring in pain. He closes his eyes and turns, because he doesn't want to ever listen to his brother's voice again.

"But," Sam starts to say, and Dean actually has to tamp down the urge to scream as he pulls the covers his face.

"Sam, leave my room right now and go on this hunt with Y/N. And please, for the love of God, do not text me or come back to this bunker until you have talked through your shit." Dean's voice is deadly, and Sam knows he has to comply. He leaves with an annoyed 'get better soon' and goes to his own room, because he doesn't want to go to Y/N's room.

She's reading in her room, some sort of fiction that she's been waiting for free time to read. Sam knocks on her door, and she figures it's Dean, because Sam has never been in her room.

"Come in!" She calls, putting her book down and watching the tall ass man walk through the door.

"Hey," Sam says, and Y/N chokes down the urge to tell him to fuck off and leave. He looks so out of place, eyes flitting around her room because he can't look at her for some reason.

"What do you need?" She asks flatly, leaning back.

"There's a case in Minnesota." He explains, voice low. He still isn't looking at her.

"Minnesota in January? You've got to be out of your mind. Ask Dean." She goes to grab her book again, and Sam sighs.

"He's sick." Sam finally meets her eyes when she looks up, and they're both silent for a moment. "Please, I can't do this alone." He is practically begging, and he knows how pathetic it sounds.

"Fine." She agrees, taking a deep breath. "When do we leave?"

They realized that maybe they should have left this case to more local hunters the second the heating in the old car they had decided to take went out. Sam had gotten out and tried to fix it while Y/N stayed bundled in the car, wondering why she decided this would be a good idea when she doesn't like Sam and he doesn't like her and it's minus degrees and snowing. Even the coats she stole from Dean aren't doing much, so when they get to the hotel after a car ride of silence Y/N is ready for sleep. They had chosen a fancier hotel than they normally stay at, because they needed a room with heat.

"Two rooms, please." Sam says, and Y/N resists the urge to roll her eyes because of course he can't just share the room with her.

"We only have one available." The lady says, and Y/N suddenly thinks that maybe Sam wasn't being too overreactive. Just the thought of sharing a room with him makes her want to drive all the way back to Lebanon.

"What?" Y/N can't resist saying. "How do you only have a single room left?" She asks.

"There's a wedding here tomorrow, and half the town lost power. I'm surprised we have the one room left." She shrugs, and Y/N wants to yell at her. She knows there's no use, however, because this receptionist can't magically make another room available.

"That's fine. We'll take the room, thanks." Sam hands her the fake card Charlie programmed along with the matching fake ID, and then he's given the keys.

"You'll be on the fourth floor, room four twenty-eight." The receptionist tells them, and the two smile at her before walking to the elevator.

When they get to the room, immediately Y/N knows something is wrong. She pauses in the door, and Sam runs into her back and causes her to stumble.

"We need to go back down." She says. "This is wrong."

"Oh," Sam says as he looks over her shoulder. "But there are no more rooms left." He says it so simply, she wants to hit him.

"There's only one bed." She says, as if Sam can't see this himself. He squeezes past where she's still stuck in the doorway, and goes over to the thermostat.

"It's freezing." Sam changes the subject, because there's nothing they can do about their sleeping arrangements. They know it's too cold to go out and find a new hotel room, which may not even have room since the receptionist said that half the town didn't have power.

"Well, turn the heat up." She can't help but be bitchy, because the year she's spent on the other side of the bunker, avoiding him at all costs, has made her unable to even be in the same room as him.

"It's not working." He grunts, fiddling with it even while he understands the truth.

There's no heat in this room.

"We need to find another fucking hotel." Y/N mutters. She goes to grab her stuff, but Sam grabs her arm.

"The snow is coming down too hard. We don't even know where another hotel is, and we're going to freeze in that metal ice cube." He gently lets go over her arm, but she can feel the tingles from where his hand was.

"We're going to freeze here." She says, but she knows that even this cold room is better than the way the car felt.

"The water is probably warm." He tells her. She rolls her eyes.

"Great, so we can get wet and then freeze our asses off as soon as we're not under the water." She says, and he just blinks.

"If we run hot water, we can create steam and hopefully it'll give off some heat." He explains, and now she feels stupid.

"I'm gonna go downstairs to see if there's any extra blankets." She tells him.

And of course, there's only one.

"I'm so sorry." The lady says, like she genuinely cares that Y/N is going to have to share the bed with the man who hates her in a room that feels like it's below zero. "If anyone leaves, or as soon as someone checks out, I will call your room." She promises, but Y/N knows it's a lost cause. No one is leaving, at least not tonight. Y/N and Sam are stuck without power, and only one extra blanket.

When she gets back to the room, the shower is running, steam coming out from the open door. It isn't until she sees Sam's naked back that she realizes that they have to keep the door open to heat up the room.

She turns to the bed, feeling her cheeks heat.

"I'm back!" She calls, putting the extra blanket on the bed. It does feel slightly warmer with the steam, but she can't help but wonder how long it'll last.

"The water is nice and hot!" Sam calls out, and she can hear him getting out of the shower but not turning it off. She is grabbing her own stuff for the shower when Sam walks out, wearing only a towel around his waist. "I figured we should keep it going for a long as possible, since it's the only thing heating the room." He tells her, and she just nods as she looks at his eyes and his eyes only, ignoring everything else (like the tattoo on his toned chest, the water rolling down his abs where a trail of hair leads under the towel).

"Sounds good," She manages, then goes into the bathroom. It's then, as she turns toward the room, that she realizes they need the door open to let the heat out.

Sam is out of the eye line, so she quickly strips and gets in the shower. The glass is now fogged, so she can't see much of the room and he can't see in. Still, she showers quickly and gets out, not getting her hair wet so she doesn't have to deal with being in the cold room with wet hair. She towels off, then changes as quickly as she possibly can so that Sam can't see anything. But his back is turned the whole time, now with pants and a long sleeve on to sleep. She's glad she brought a hoodie (which may have been Dean's at one point) so she won't absolutely freeze.

"How long should we keep it running?" She asks, walking into the room and putting her old clothes back into her bag.

"I guess until it goes cold." Sam shrugs, and then it goes back to silence. She grabs her book, going to read in the bed before sleeping. When Sam, all six feet five fucking inches of burly man, gets in next to her, she wants to start crying. He takes up over half the bed, and she just knows how this is going to end.

It's going to be a long night.

"We woke up cuddling!" Y/N whispers into her phone while Sam talks to the victim's family. She had stayed in the car, deciding to research more since they hadn't been able to look at each other all morning, much less talk to each other.

"That doesn't surprise me." Dean tells her honestly, making her groan. "And not just because I already heard about this." Of course Sam told his brother about the cuddling incident.

"How am I supposed to go back tonight!" She cries, knowing she's being dramatic but also knowing there's nothing worse than Sam, who already hates her, not even being able to talk to her.

"I'm sure it was just cold. I mean, you slept fine, right?" Dean asks, and she can tell he's eating and talking with his mouth full.

"I slept like a fucking log, Dean. That's the problem! And your brother hates me, so I don't even know why he would cuddle me in the first place!" She tells Dean as she skims the book in her lap, not finding anything remotely related to their case.

"He doesn't hate you." Dean tells her, and she just shakes her head.

"I'll just have to take your word for it, since he avoids me like the plague." She mutters. She looks over and sees Sam walking out of the house, so she says her goodbyes and gets off the phone.

"I think we're dealing with some sort of spirit, not a demon. It seems to be haunting the barn, drawing people in." Sam informs her. They had known that the abandoned barn had been a part of the case, but they had thought it was a demon due to the nature of the killings.

"Like the spirit of George Hanover, the kid that was killed there during a hazing ritual in the eighties. We can go a library and see if the deaths match with the way he was killed, maybe interview people who knew him." Y/N suggests, and Sam nods.

The ride, of course, is quiet.

It's late at night and freezing cold when George finally shows his face in the barn. Y/N and Sam just needed whatever he was tied to, because they didn't want to burn down the entire barn. If it came to that, however, they were prepared.

What they were not prepared for was George to put up such a fight, and Y/N is thrown into a snowdrift headfirst. She doesn't move, but Sam doesn't have time to check on her. He has to dig through the dirt covered things in the corners of the barn while dodging attacks until he finally finds a jacket, which he hopes is George's. Once it's burned and the spirit is taken care of, Sam is instantly on his way to Y/N.

"Y/N!" He yells, digging through the snow that she was buried in. He finally gets her out, unconscious but breathing, face flush from the cold. He touches her face with his bare hand, and he knows she is way too cold.

He picks her up and carries her the short distance to the car, then puts it in gear and drives as fast as he can through the snow to get back to the hotel. He blasts the heat, but Y/N doesn't move the entire ride and her face doesn't return to its natural color.

"Come on," He says to no one, carrying her to the room and putting her on the bed. He takes off her shoes and jacket before putting her under the blankets, then grabbing a small towel and running it under warm water. He puts it on her forehead, then kneels at her side, unsure of what to do.

He waits five minutes, then takes the towel off and throws it to the ground. She still isn't awake, but her face seems less pale and her hand, which is in his, is less cold. He tells himself it's to keep her warm, make sure she's not cooling down, but he knows why he's holding her hand.

"I'm sorry." He whispers, not knowing why he has to confess. He just feels the need, even if it won't help, even if she won't hear it. "I'm sorry I made you think that I hate you. I don't, I could never. In fact, I care about you more than I should. It's why I try not to talk to you, try not to get your attention. I don't want to get attached, in case something happened. I didn't think I could stand it if you didn't feel the same, or if you did feel the same but something happened. But now, something has happened, and I've wasted all this time ignoring you. I've wasted months of our lives because I was scared, and now I'm more terrified than I have ever been and it's all my fault. If we were able to talk to each other, if I had been able to at least be nice, maybe I could have prevented this." He's crying, and he can't believe he just poured his heart out to this unconscious woman. He feels so stupid, but just as he takes his hand away her's squeezes his fingers. His head whips to her face, where her eyes are finally open.

"Nothing could have prevented that." She tells him, and he can't help himself from hugging her tight. She hugs back, and when he leans away he has to ask.

"How much did you hear?" He's not sure what he wants the answer to be, not sure if he's prepared for it.

"All of it." She tells him honestly. "Well, everything after you saying that I hate you, but I think that was all of it. Which is wrong, ya know. I don't hate you." She smiles, scooting over. The room is a little chilly as Sam toes off his shoes and takes off his coat, sliding into bed next to her.

"That's good to know." He says, trying not to freak out. She puts her head on his chest, letting his arms come around her the same way they were when the two of them woke up that morning.

"I care for you a lot too. Even though I thought you hated me." She says, and he squeezes her.

"Yeah, let's not do that." He says, kissing her on the forehead. She nods, feeling warm in his arms even in the cold hotel room. The snow outside has started to turn into a storm, but neither of them could be bothered to care, too wrapped up in each other.

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @one-sweet-gubler @theoraekenslover @lyarr24

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #supernatural fanfic #sam winchester fanfic

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