#finally i could read this beautiful christmas piece

[orchid3a]

A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE. ( zhongli x reader )

╰┈➤ you always believed in christmas miracles, but he took this concept to another level for you.

pairings — zhongli x fem!reader.

warnings — reader and zhongli are single parents before meeting each other, t*xic relationship (not with zhongli), mentions of domestic v*olence and ch*ating, a bit of misogyny and overall prejudice of the society with single mothers, fluff with children and between the parents, sugestiveness at the end.

word count — 5k

notes — this is a repost from the beggining of the year bc i had some problems back then, but this fic was supposed to be a christmas one and for zhongli's birthday. either way, it's now here! reblogs and feedbacks are appreacited <3

you’ve always loved christmas. 

it was a time when everything was magical, especially when you were a child, but such a magic didn’t die when you were growing up — it actually only grew, especially after you had your daughter. her father, your ex-husband, wasn’t the biggest fan of christmas. zandik was a doctor, and a logical one, and he almost spilled to your daughter that santa wasn’t real in the last christmas you three spent as a family, though you couldn’t tell if he was being mean or the idea of santa claus was so illogical that he didn’t comprehend why your daughter should believe it. 

either way, nahida still believed in santa, and you were sure your boyfriend and his children would do anything to keep such magic in your daughter’s life — and you couldn’t be more grateful. 

ganyu and xiao were two sweet hearts, accepting to go shopping with you to buy presents for your daughter and their father. it was a tradition that was passed down from your father to you, always bringing you along when he went to buy presents for your mother and siblings — you loved nothing more than to choose what they would be given, and seeing their eyes lighten up with the perfect gifts you had chosen. you used to take nahida with you, too, when you and zandik were still together, and you knew she loved to see the small smile on her father’s face when he opened his gift and saw the shirt or the new white coat his daughter had chosen for him. 

but that was in the past now, and your ex-husband didn’t want anything to do with nahida now. 

it was a shame, though. despite the bad way your relationship ended — with him cheating on you with one of his coworkers while you stayed at home taking care of your little treasure and doing everything to please him — nahida was still his daughter, a child that he had spent hours and hours talking when she was still in your belly, a child that he had treasured and did lots and lots of plans with you while she laid on his bare chest in a warm night of summer. but ever since your divorce, he hadn’t made any effort to be present in his daughter’s life again, but it didn’t seem like nahida was missing him. 

your boyfriend was a better father figure to her, anyway. 

after your divorce, you didn’t have anywhere to be — your ex husband made you quit your job after you got pregnant, so you could put all your energy into taking care of your baby and raising her the bestest you could. your best friends, cyno and tighnari, offered you a place to stay until you had a job and a good income to be able to live on your own with nahida, and you couldn’t be more grateful to them. if it wasn’t for them, you wouldn’t have been hired in your boyfriend’s company as his secretary and become the neighbor of his younger brother, who played matchmaker for the both of you. 

zhongli was a kind boss, always understanding when you needed to call a sick day whenever nahida needed you, to the point that rumors about your involvement began even before you two were actually together.

apparently, he had always looked at you with a lovestruck expression that everybody saw except you — because, in your head, how could a man as successful as him, as handsome and kind as him, would look at you with love in his eyes instead of pity? with a failed marriage and a little girl to take care of, you had already made up your mind that you would never find love again. but zhongli was stubborn and would do anything to show you that he was different than your ex-husband, his plan coming to fruition when you found a job in your actual line of field, with venti’s and ei’s help. 

you were, at first, a bit hesitant in opening your heart again for another man. but you came to know that you and zhongli had passed by the same situation, a cheating wife that left him for her new affair, leaving two small children for him to take care of. if it wasn’t for venti and ei, in the words of the said younger brother of your ex boss, zhongli wouldn’t be able to raise his children to be such good kids. another thing that made you more prone to open yourself to him was the way he treated nahida, in such a care that you never saw your husband treating her — zhongli always coaxed giggles and giggles from her, and you knew you were in love with him watching him play with your daughter as if she was his own. 

now, after one year of being together and two months of living as a family, it was the first christmas you five would spend together. 

“aunt y/n, do you think daddy will like a new shirt? we can buy it blue to match with my hair!” ganyu’s excited voice took you from your thoughts, and you smiled at the young girl, nodding at her words, like xiao glared at his older sister.  

ganyu and xiao were nine and seven, and the kindest children you ever met. they had accept you and nahida in their lives as if you both had always been a part of it, and the three of them had a very special bond — none of your friends had children on nahida’s age, and it was good to see the sibling bond she was forming with zhongli’s children. she and ganyu became sisters in less than a day, and while xiao was shyer than his sister, nahida was already calling him big brother by the end of the first week you all were living together. you and zhongli couldn’t be happier, being able to be together and watching your children getting closer — he’d always whisper how good of a mother you were while kissing your forehead, making you hide your face on his chest due to embarrassment. 

“i think he will love one.” you agreed, hand messing ganyu's blue curls. “but maybe for his birthday? we need to remember that we need to buy two gifts for daddy.” sometimes it was bothersome the fact that your boyfriend's birthday was in the new year's eve, a date when people were already celebrating, but you tried to make it more special for him — zhongli's birthday celebration started as soon as he wake up, and it went through the whole day. he would turn thirty-four this year, and you wanted to make it as special as you wanted christmas to be. 

“why didn't daddy choose a better day to be born? like us, or nahida!” xiao's complaint was cute, his hand clutching your skirt and his brows furrowed in an unhappy face. 

you smiled at the younger boy, watching as ganyu looked at the dress shirts in the store. “we don't choose the day we're born, little man.” it was cute how he still flushed at your pet names for them, and you wondered if someday he'd grow too tired of them and ask you to stop. you hoped not, because both of them, ganyu and xiao, already had their special places on your heart — right at nahida's, but you feared it was too soon to call them like that.

“hmpf.” he pouted and you giggled, fighting the urge to pinch his cheeks and call him cute. 

“aunt y/n!” ganyu called you, a beautiful blue dress shirt in her small hands. “i'm sure daddy will like this one! it's like my hair!” she proudly exclaimed, a smile full of white teeth adorning her chubby cheeks. but before you could answer, you heard an irritated sound coming from xiao’s mouth, who was still clutching your skirt, narrowed eyes looking at the shirt his sister chose. 

“what about my hair then?” he asked and you sighed, knowing it would take a while to make those two agree on something. 

— 

zhongli smiled seeing the christmas’ lights shining on nahida’s green eyes. 

he had always worried about his relationship with your child, even before you two were a thing — it was embarrassing how much he had daydreaming about being in a relationship with you, a thirty two three old man fantasizing about his twenty-seven secretary, but he couldn’t help himself. not when you smiled so sweetly at him, always making sure that he had a cup of water and coffee with him and that he wasn’t overworking himself. you were zhongli’s dream woman, and he knew he needed to court you properly. 

you first told him about your daughter in a rainy day, after you had received a call from your friends, eyes glossy with tears — you explain that she had a fever through the whole night and you left her with your best friends so you could work, but it seemed like her condition was worse since you left. zhongli didn’t think twice about offering you a ride to your friends’ house then to the hospital, his heart contracting itself seeing your distressed face. you reluctantly accept, and the rest was story. 

that day was the confirmation that you needed that you should accept his moves on you, already searching for a new job so you could fully welcome zhongli in your life. the way he made nahida feel safe, despite the doctors' scaring and the needles in her little body, made the tears you were holding back to fall from your eyes — your ex-husband’s last words ringing in your head, of how much of a bad mother you would be without him and his help.

now, zhongli was walking hand in hand with your six-year-old daughter through the jewelry store, trying to look for the perfect ring to propose to you. 

“what gem do you think mommy would like, nahida?” he asked, his amber gaze eyeing some diamond’s rings on display, hands unconsciously reaching to take nahida between his arms so she could help him choose. she nuzzled between them, sighing contently before casting her green orbs on the rings and gasping softly. zhongli suppressed a chuckle — he missed when his children were small and innocent like her.

she pointed to a gold one with some green details, the diamond shaped in a heart with some emeralds around it. he wasn’t surprised though, as her favorite color was green — even the tips of her hair were dyed green, a courtesy of the day she, ganyu and xiao spent with venti. “that one, uncle ‘li!” she exclaimed, her face lightening up at the thought of your finger adorned with it. “but why are you gifting mommy it, uncle zhongli? my papa used to give her clothes or books.” nahida was the most intelligent and curious kid zhongli ever met, and he knew she’d ask why he wanted to give you a ring — though the mention of her father brought a sour taste to his mouth, he could never be angry at her for bringing him up. 

she was too small to understand how much her father made her mother suffer. 

“well,” he started, smiling at the vendor and pointing to the ring nahida liked. “i want to marry your mommy, and i’m going to ask her with the ring i’ll buy today. do you think she’ll accept it?” 

he didn’t want to admit it, but his heart was hammering inside his chest like he was a teenager once more — nobody knew about his plans of proposing, and zhongli wanted to keep things a surprise to everyone, but he knew he needed to ask nahida’s permission first. she was your entire world, just like his children were his, but he wanted to make a space for himself there, like you and your little girl had on his. and nahida’s acceptance was what he needed to feel confident enough to ask you those three little words. he knew you wouldn’t do anything that would hurt or put her in danger, and he couldn’t blame you. you were a single mother in a world that looked down at you with disdain in its eyes. 

though, nahida’s words caught him by surprise. “you promise you won’t make mommy cry like my papa did?” he looked puzzled at her, though he understood what she meant. “mommy thinks she hides things from me, but i’m not dumb. i remember when papa left us, she cried so much! and i don’t want to see her crying again.” she hid her face on his neck and zhongli sighed, stroking her back. 

“i promise, my sweetness. i will never make mommy cry sad tears, alright?” he almost didn’t notice her small nod, but he felt her small hands gripping the back of his dress shirt tighter. “does that mean i can marry mommy?” 

his heart felt more at ease when he heard her giggles. “of course!” nahida exclaimed while coming out from her hiding spot, a big smile on her face. “does that mean you’ll be my daddy, too?” as much as her voice had excitement on it, zhongli could recognize a bit of shyness, alongside the soft pink dusting her cheeks — but he felt his heart warm, and even though nahida didn’t know that, he already considered her his child, his youngest daughter. and to know that she wanted him to be her father figure was better than any other scenario he could think of. 

“yes, i’ll be your daddy too, my sweetness.” 

—

you looked down fondly at ganyu and xiao, both of them looking at their ice creams as if they were the richest treasure in the world.

at the end, they decided to buy a blue shirt as zhongli’s christmas’ present, and a gold wristwatch, with his black ornaments, as his birthday present. it was adorable to see how dedicated they were to find the perfect gift for their father, debating and arguing to try to find what he would like the most — in the end, you knew zhongli would use his gifts to work, showing his employees how cute and thoughtful his little angels were. 

“this ice cream is so good, mommy.” you smiled, at first, hearing xiao’s words, napkin ready to clean his lips off the almond cream around it — but you stopped dead in your tracks when you noticed how he called you. 

you never wanted to take their biological mother’s place in their lives, though zhongli always said that she never loved them like a mother should — she saw them as a way for him to continue married to her, so she could maintain her lifestyle as a ceo’s wife intact, partying and cheating on him behind his back and leaving his children to be taken care by nannies. once, he admitted to you that his biggest regret was choosing such a woman to be the mother of his children, whispering soon after that what happened to him and her led him to you, and zhongli couldn’t be more grateful. hearing him calling you that, although, filled your heart with warmth and your smile grew wider. 

xiao was more introverted and reserved than ganyu, perhaps because of the so little time he spent with his mother before she and zhongli divorced. you thought he would be the last one to call you that, and you would be alright if he never did — the love you felt for them and the love they felt for you couldn’t be described in just a simple title. 

“you’re getting your mouth all dirty, dummy.” as a good older sister, ganyu scolded him gently, though her mouth was dirty with some of the chocolate toppings of her ice cream. “it isn’t mommy’s job to clean you.” 

you didn’t know if it was influence of her brother or just the mood that made her call you like that too, but you swallowed the lump in your throat. “it is mommy’s job to clean him, baby. it’s mommy’s job to look after the both of you, and nahida, and daddy too.” you tried to explain, napkins ready to clean them both. they giggled and, to any onlooker, you looked like a happy and small family — as you were, though two components of it were missing. 

however, your giggles died down when you spotted familiar curls of light blue hair and a pair of red eyes looking straight at you. 

you could recognize zandik’s eyes anywhere you went — they were sharp and calculating, the emotion shining on them always indecipherable. you used to find them beautiful, especially in the early days of your relationship with him, when they used to shine and sheer adoration, but now they only brought a sour taste to your mouth. but as soon as you noticed his presence there, you returned your eyes to your children, continuing to smile at them. 

“mommy!” before you could say something, you heard your sweet girl’s voice, her small hands waving at you while she was perched comfortably between zhongli’s arms.

“daddy and ‘hida are back, xiao!” ganyu exclaimed, feet already taking her to where her father was standing. you offered your hand to xiao, who took it with more enthusiasm than normal, you two followed his big sister to finally find the two other members of your family. 

though you could still feel your ex-husband’s gaze on your back. 

you sighed relieved when zhongli’s arms embraced your body, burying your face on his neck — his sandalwood scent managed to ease your heart a bit, though you were still waiting for disaster to happen with zandik around. you heard the girls’ giggles and xiao’s little ‘tsk’ at your display of affection, and you could feel your boyfriend’s smile while he kissed your lips. 

“i hope these little rascals didn’t give you any trouble, my dearest.” he spoke, voice deep and soothing, as if he could sense your distress at the moment. you smiled, shaking your head, while ganyu and xiao snuggled themselves in your sides. 

surprisingly, xiao was the first one to speak. “we would never give mommy any trouble, daddy.” you watched as surprise and pure love passed through zhongli’s features, his eyes the warmest you ever saw — it was as if he had dreamed about the day his children would finally acknowledge you as their true mother, despite the blood running through his veins. ganyu nodded and joined her brother’s chorus, nodding. 

“you’re the only one who we give trouble to, daddy!” 

you ruffled their heads. “i hope my little rascal didn’t give you any trouble, my love. i know how curious she can be.” you returned his question to him, hands still caressing xiao’s and ganyu’s hair, winking at your little girl who giggled between zhongli’s arms, that being your favorite sound in the world. she looked so at ease and at her place being nursed and loved by him, as if he was the one supposed to be her father from the very beginning. 

“my fault. she inherited it from her father, i suppose.” 

you didn’t remember his voice being so cold, as if it was the chill of the first snow of the year — it wasn’t fitting no, as your husband hailed from the west, from a place that never snowed. maybe it was the influence of some of his coworkers from the north, but you still remembered when that voice used to be your source of peace and comfort. “zandik.” you greeted him, not bothering to turn around to look at him, more concerned in protecting your children from his venom. they seemed to understand how dangerous he was, clinging to you even more. 

though, the worst part was watching nahida’s expression seeing her father after so long. her eyes were wide, but her lips were trembling and her small hands were clutching zhongli’s shirt with a strength you never saw before. you wanted nothing more than to just take her away from here, but zhongli’s expression told you he was willing to protect her like you would. it hurt you to know that your daughter was aware of the monster her father was, and you felt as if you had failed your mission to protect her childhood innocence. 

he chose to ignore your presence, focusing his attention on zhongli and nahida, as if his ego was hurt by the fact his daughter didn't run straight to his arms. “why a strange man is holding my daughter, y/n?” you turned to face him, instinctively putting ganyu and xiao behind you, hoping to protect them.

“he's my boy—” 

“he's my daddy!” nahida's voice cut you off, leaving everyone speechless. “he's going to marry mommy and not make her cry like you did, papa.” she explained, voice quiet like a feather reaching the ground after failing — though, to you, her words resonated inside your head, for two reasons: she was too young to be worried about someone making you cry. 

and zhongli wanted to marry you. 

zandik answered with a dry chuckle, his eyes shining with the same anger it did back then. “what poison about me did you feed to my daughter, you bitch?” you watched as his hand started to move towards your figure, and you closed your eyes, memories of the day when you confronted him about his cheating played in your head — the screams and the tears, the harsh words and his hands bruising your face. 

though, the impact of his fist in your jaw didn't happen again. 

you opened your arms to see zhongli in front of you, nahida being supported only by one of his arms but looking worried at your shaking form, his other hand holding zandik's arm, fingers squeezing your ex-husband’s wrist — even ganyu and xiao got away from their hiding place, now in front of you, as if they were ready to protect you. 

“do not ever dare to touch my wife like that again, scum, or i will make sure you regret messing with my family again.” zhongli said, voice firm and demanding. “get out of my sight or else nobody in this world will make me stop hunting you for hurting y/n.” 

— 

it pained him to see you like this. 

zhongli could see how strong you tried to look for the children, especially nahida. after the encounter with her father — and his boyfriend now, the same man who zandik had cheated on you with, who was lurking in the shadows until zhongli stepped up — she was visibly shaken up, not leaving your arms until your little family arrived home. in the walls of her safe place, nahida regained her light, and xiao and ganyu seemed relieved, ready to play with his little sister. 

nor you or zhongli touched the subject in front of them, and he was waiting for night time, the only time when he was alone with you in the confines of your shared room, to extract your real feelings. he could see how your smiles didn’t reach your eyes, or how your laugh seemed forced — it seemed like the kids did too, all three of them snuggled in your arms during the movie you were watching, while you were snuggled at his side. he couldn’t ask for anything better than to have the love of his life and his children safe in his arms, though his mind was running miles trying to find a way to make your husband pay for what he made you and nahida go through.

another thing that he wanted to discuss was the little secret nahida spilled. 

he didn’t blame her, of course. zhongli understood it was her way of protecting him and her mother from her father’s words, and he couldn’t be more grateful for her actions — it was a testimony of how well you were raising her, and also a testimony that you both were better without the shadow of zandik looming over you. nahida now had space to grow her opinions and be whatever she wanted, and zhongli was happy that he was able to provide such an environment for her, alongside you. 

the sound of the door opening made him tear his eyes from his book, gentle gaze now focused on your form. you were wearing some pajamas pants and an old t-shirt of his, and he swore you looked the most beautiful you ever did looking like that — perhaps, you in a white dress walking down the aisle to meet him could beat such a sight. he opened his arms and you took no time to just jump between them, face nuzzled on his neck, his warm hands drawing circles on your lower back. you sighed contentedly. “how is she?” he knew you were putting nahida to sleep, being the one who aided you in putting the children in their respective rooms, staying a bit more in her room to make sure she was alright. 

“she’s still a bit shaken up.” you answered, voice muffled by his shirt. zhongli tightened his arms around you, kissing your hair. “i explained to her that zandik will never take her away from us, but she made me promise it at least three times.” your chuckle was a sad one, and he feared you bursting into tears for someone who didn’t deserve it — though, he couldn’t help and feel warm inside by the fact you included him and his children in your family. 

he kept his silence, only humming, knowing you had to say more. “why is he like that? why i couldn’t see how horrible he was from day one?” you seemed defeated, and his blood boiled at the sensation of your tears soaking his shirt. 

zhongli knew very well how you felt. “love normally clouds our senses, dearest.” you took your face from its hiding spot, meeting his amber eyes — gentle and shining with endless love for you, making your heartbeat race just like in the first time you saw them. “but he will never try to approach you or nahida again, do you hear me?” he held your face between his large hands, thumb caressing your cheeks in a loving way. you nodded, giving him a smile that resembled your normal ones. 

“i wish you were nahida’s father from the start, ‘li.” you admitted, a pout on your lips. he pecked them briefly, almost giving you no time to melt into the kiss, kissing your forehead soon after. 

he helped you to get up from his embrace, legs straddling his thighs, while taking a small black velvet box from under your pillow. “if you say yes, i can.” 

you looked between him and the velvet box as if you didn't understand what was happening, but in reality, you couldn't believe it. why zhongli, a man so fine like the most delicious wine, wanted to marry you? a poor excuse of a woman and mother, who still got shaken up with the presence of her ex-husband? you knew he deserved someone so much better than yourself, but you wanted to be that person — but the tears were already glossing your vision and your head came to rest on his chest, his hands holding you close to his body.

you cried like a child, the velvet box between your hands and zhongli's long fingers between your hair. his warmth was almost soothing you, almost whispering that you were made and born to be in that position, between his arms and feeling his love for all eternity. 

your sobs calmed in the same intensity zhongli's love professions became more and more passionately, his words making you see that even if you didn't feel like you were deserving of his love, he felt like you were. and that was enough, you came to realize — zhongli's love was his to give to anyone he deemed worthy of, and he deemed you and your daughter worthy of his endless affections. 

“yes.” you whispered against the pale skin of his neck, now a bit red from the small love bites you gave him after you calmed down. the velvet box was still resting in your hands, and after giving his neck another kiss, you positioned yourself to face him and his amber gaze, eyes already tearing up by the love shining on them. 

zhongli's hands were ready to open it, showing you the most beautiful ring you ever saw in your life — a gold band with a heart shaped diamond in the middle, some emeralds, as the same color as your sweet girl's eyes, around it, making the ring perfect for you. you nodded again, heart racing when he took your hand in his and put the ring on your finger. as soon as you felt the cold band in your warm skin, you cupped his face, bringing his face to meet yours in a passionate kiss.  

“thank you.” zhongli whispered against your lips after he broke the kiss, and you smiled, though not ready for his next words. “thank you for loving me, for choosing this scarred and brute man to be your husband.” you just stroked his face, letting him talk his heart out. “thank you for being the best mother for nahida and now to ganyu and xiao.” his lips soon found your face once again, now caressing your cheek. “i love you.” he whispered with his nose on your cheek, his plump lips pressing a big and sloppy kiss there, his hands now roaming through your body — you knew what he wanted, already grinding your hips against his. 

“you'll make me cry again.” you managed to say between the shaky breaths leaving your mouth due to his wandering hands. “i— ah— love you.”

both of you couldn't wait to be intertwined as one for eternity, expressed by the sounds and movements of your bodies — and the proposal would always be remembered by you as one of your christmas's miracle.

[withleeknow]

wishful thinking. (07)

chapter seven: built to break

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; the gorlies are fighting...?, not much for warnings in this chapter ig word count: 4.3k note: i finally got off my ass and wt is finally back lol. i had a last minute change of plans and thought "oh! you know what would be pretty neat? if we prolong the angst so everyone can be sad for longer!" <3 and this is how i announce that the next chapter is not wt8 but wt7.5 and it's written from his pov <3 merry christmas

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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I’ll hold my breath as I wait for your answer I’ll leave it up to you Tell me whether it’s yes or no Baby, love me or leave me tonight

Love Me or Leave Me - Day6

The warning signs, they're there. You can see them before they materialize. You know your own tells.

Your metaphorical bags are packed, your shoes are already on. You're about to run again, leave a half empty house before it has the chance to become a home. No one has to tell you that you're a flight risk; you're well aware of it yourself.

Wednesday Min: got plans tonight? You: booked and busy with ze old canvas Min: tomorrow? You: same thing probably. sorry Min: u're working hard lately You: yeah this one is just driving me crazy and i need it to turn out decent Min: it'll be perfect. it's u

Thursday Min: running errands at the store Min: want me to bring u anything? that caramel popcorn u like?

Friday Min: don't work too hard. remember to eat

That was three days ago, the last time you'd heard from him after you left him on read. It wasn't a complete lie; this project is driving you kinda crazy and you do need it to end up a decent piece, but you weren't exactly holed up in your apartment to slave over your painting. And you suppose Minho didn't find it all that suspicious because you tend to do this sometimes - disappear for a couple of days and force yourself to focus whenever you had a project to finish, before you come back to everybody again. You've come back to him before; it stands to reason that you'll do it again.

It's been about two weeks since you'd seen him, though the memories of that evening are still fresh in your mind - the evening of the group dinner, when he'd kissed you goodnight and left for his parents' house the following day. True to his words, he did send you pictures of the cats - ones of Soonie wearing a matching hoodie with him, a few of Doongie and Dori napping at the foot of his bed. There was an accompanying text - The kids miss you - along with a frowning emoji, and it made you wonder if what he really meant was I miss you.

You wanted him to miss you, because you missed him too.

The photos brought a smile to your face despite the predicament you found yourself in. A smile that was short lived, a smile that was soon wiped off when you realized your heart shouldn't be swelling with that much affection for him. It shouldn't, but the truth was that it did and you don't know how to live with it.

Love isn't something you've ever learned to hold.

It's beautiful yet full of thorns, and your hands are too clumsy to ever keep it from slipping from your fingers.

You remember when you first met Minho. Freshman year, at some popular senior's house party.

It feels like forever ago when you were just an awkward freshman at orientation who didn't have a single clue on how to make friends. Jess was your first friend in college, and you'll always be grateful that you got along well enough that she adopted you into the group with the rest of the guys.

You didn't cross paths with Minho until you were already acquainted with everyone else. On the night of the party, you remember being enamored with him for those couple of hours, and it wasn't the side effect of too many solo cups of cheap beer. Who in their right mind wouldn't be infatuated with him? He was beautiful, absolutely alluring, and you would always tell him as much.

Back then, he had brown hair, slighter shorter than now but it was tinted with the most gorgeous shade of red. You didn't know much about Minho, only been told that he was pretty quiet and might be off-putting to new people. It was sort of true; that night, you were intimidated by the aura he exuded. Mysterious, couldn't be bothered, didn't seem to give a shit. He looked like a scary little thing, while you were the new kid who was only trying to observe everyone's dynamics, not wanting to overstep any unspoken boundary.

To this day, you're still not sure what really happened, how you two immediately clicked and he's been one of the most important parts of your life ever since.

Maybe it was just him. Maybe it's always been him.

Minho, the one who makes you smile when all you want to do is curl up and cry. The one who makes you laugh when you look for joy but the search comes up empty. The one who grounds you every time you lose your way. Your anchor, the safe harbor you can always return to. The light at the end of a long, long tunnel.

You don't know where you stand, don't know where it goes from here now that everything is changing. He told you so himself, that nothing changed for him, but how could he possibly know that everything is changing for you? And it infuriates you to no end because you don't even have anyone to talk about this with. You're the only person whose world is being turned upside down after all.

You can't tell your friends because they can't know about you and Minho. You can't tell Minho because what would you even say? That you think you're in love with him? That the implications of what it means are devastating to you?

For the first time, you regret everything. Kissing him that night, sleeping with him, becoming whatever this is with him. Letting down your guard and falling for him somewhere along the way and you didn't even stop to notice it. You regret all of the decisions you've made up until now, because they've only led you to the point of no return, the point of losing him. You made bad decision after bad decision after bad decision, until you couldn't anymore. All along, there's been no one else to blame but you.

Maybe it hasn't happened yet, but it's inevitable. You will lose him. You are going to lose him.

There's no other ending, no other alternative that you can imagine. You're going to leave because you're a coward and it's what you do best. You ruin things before they get a chance to hurt you. You leave because if you don't leave then you'll be left behind, and you'd rather not bear the brunt of it.

Now, when you think of Minho, the thought is always accompanied by a painful reminder - Nothing changed for him.

When you get to the cafe, Hyunjin and Seungmin are already seated in a corner booth, three drinks in front of them, one of which they'd ordered for you before you arrived.

You slide into the seat next to Hyunjin, smiling at him appreciatively for the drink. There's still over half an hour before you have to walk to your shared class, over half an hour before Seungmin parts ways with you two to do whatever or whoever it is that Seungmin does on his off days.

"I still think it's Nara," Hyunjin says, casually sipping his iced coffee.

"Nara from your Lit class last semester?"

"Yup."

"Why?"

"I saw them talking at a party once."

"Okay. And?"

"And what? That's it."

"That's... all the evidence you have to back up your claim?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

You wave your hands in front of them. "What are you bozos talking about?"

"He’s still trying to figure out who Minho is hooking up with," Seungmin is the one who answers you without missing a beat, then he turns back to Hyunjin. "Anyway, it can't be Nara. She's dating Jaehyun on the basketball team."

The friend next to you flails his arms like a petulant child, like he couldn't have possibly seen this coming, like he was so sure that he had finally solved the mystery. "Great. I'm back to square one again."

You straighten your back and reach for your drink, tentatively gulping down the beverage as if it'll hide the fact that you've gone stiff the second this topic is brought up. You feel bad about it, sure. These are your friends that you're lying to after all. They don't have to look anywhere far; the answer to the secret is right in front of them.

"We're still on about that?" you ask in the calmest, most nonchalant voice you can muster. You usually consider yourself a believable liar (which, to be honest, isn't really a flex at all), but whenever someone mentions this little arrangement between you and Minho that shouldn't be common knowledge for anyone else, you feel like you're been put under a spotlight for the whole world to scrutinize.

"Duh," Hyunjin says. "You know, I'm kinda surprised that you don't know. You two are like, attached at the hip sometimes."

You give him a thoughtless shrug, your hands fiddling with the sticker on the plastic cup as you avoid looking at either of your friends. "Maybe he just wants to keep private things private, y'know? You wouldn't like either if all of us is suddenly all up in your business. And besides, what if it's just casual?"

Hyunjin scoffs. "Please, I'm an open book. I tell you guys everything. I tell you every time I hook up with someone."

"Yeah, but you see, literally no one needs to know that," Seungmin says.

The taller one only scoffs, waving his hands around dismissively in Seungmin's direction before he turns to you. "If it was just casual, would he save her name as - oh my God, I forgot what her contact name is. Freaking bird person or something."

You make a face. "What?"

"Dude, seriously?" Seungmin rolls his eyes. "You forgot one word? Dove? What is the matter with you?"

Perhaps it's the half-hearted teasing judgment in Seungmin's voice that makes Hyunjin take offense and drop the topic. The conversation veers off course when they start bickering like children in the busy cafe. You suppose it works in your favor, but you can't focus. You drown it all out.

Your hand is still on the cup but the sticker has been left alone and forgotten, half peeled off, half still clinging to the plastic underneath the condensation.

The single word repeats itself in your mind, over and over and over again.

The entire time you're in class, you don't really focus on anything. You can't bring yourself to listen to whatever your professor is saying, not after what Hyunjin and Seungmin told you earlier. At some point, your friend has to nudge your shoulder to bring you back down to earth when usually, you're the one who has to remind Hyunjin to pay attention. Class ends soon enough though; time tends to fly by when your mind is lost elsewhere.

"What's wrong with you today?" he asks with his bag slung over his shoulder, slowing down his steps to match your speed as you walk out of the lecture hall together.

You scratch the back of your neck sheepishly. "Nothing's wrong. I was just tired."

"You wanna grab dinner with me and Felix?"

Any other day, you would've agreed in a heartbeat. But today, you want to be alone. Sometimes, you'd rather wallow in your own misery than settle for a temporary distraction.

You're still stuck on the conversation from earlier, on the small detail that Hyunjin and Seungmin had let slip in the cafe.

Dove.

His dove.

Maybe it doesn't mean anything. Perhaps it's only a nickname that he's assigned to you out of mere platonic fondness, but it makes you conscious about the dove on your own wrist nonetheless, the one that you feel compelled to hide from your friends underneath your long sleeve.

"No, it's okay," you tell Hyunjin. "I'll just go home and sleep it off."

"Okay. I can walk you for a bit," he says. "Just wait with me here. Minho's coming to give me back something he borrowed."

"Minho's coming?" you ask too quickly for it to sound casual. There's a panicked edge that you can hear in your own voice, though you don't think Hyunjin picks it up as he unlocks his phone and types something on the screen.

"Yeah, he was at the library. He's coming over right now, should only be a couple minutes. Then I'll walk back with you."

You shift on your feet uneasily, but you cover it up by rubbing your hands on your arms to pretend like you're just cold. There's no excuse that you could think of that would justify why you can't stand here with Hyunjin for just two more minutes, without giving it away the fact that you're avoiding Minho.

You take in a quiet breath, put on your best brave face. Casual, nonchalant. It's just Minho. Just Minho...

He comes up from behind, where you can't see him. A warm hand gently lands on your shoulder, and it takes everything not to shy away from his touch. It takes even more not to lean into his side.

You've missed it. You've missed him.

"Hey." He smiles at you while Hyunjin only gets a nod in acknowledgment.

"Hey." You return the smile, though you're sure you look a little rigid. You can tell there's an inkling of confusion in his eyes when he senses that your energy is off, but you're thankful he doesn't comment on it, at least not in front of Hyunjin anyway.

You don't notice the paper bag in his other hand until he hands it to your other friend with a simple Thanks, to which Hyunjin just nods along in a silent You're welcome.

"I was going to walk with Y/N for a bit and then meet Felix for food," he tells Minho. "You wanna get burgers with me and Lix?"

"No, thanks. I'm not hungry, I had a late lunch. I'll take the walk though."

You didn't plan on being alone with Minho today, even though you knew you had to talk to him eventually. You just thought you had a little more time, at least until you got your shit together and face him with a brave façade.

Minho's hand brushes yours the entire time you walk, and it's nothing if not confusing. It's unbearable, the way your fingers twitch with the urge to intertwine them with his.

It persists even after Hyunjin has waved you goodbye to you two and turned to head wherever he and Felix agreed to meet. You think Minho would hold your hand now that it's just you and him, but he doesn't. He lets your skin continue to brush, lets you suffer alone and wanting in your sunken disappointment.

It has very little to do with him and everything to do with you, the conflicting thoughts inside your head piling up one by one the more time you spend in his presence.

Dove, the brief display of jealousy at Yeonjun's party, the way he looks at you sometimes that you can't really decipher the meaning behind, how he kisses you so tenderly that it can't possibly be strictly platonic. You want these things to all mean something, and yet...

You want him to hold your hand, but you know you'd wave it off if he tries to reach for your fingers. You want him to stop you right then and there to kiss you breathless, just as he had that night two weeks ago, even though you're sure you'd only dodge his lips and push him away. You want to stay, you want to leave. You're terrified of things changing, but you wish that something, anything, would be different for him; that you aren't the only one who's spinning out of control. You love him, but you wish you didn't.

Eventually, Minho asks, "You okay?"

It's not until now that you realize this is the first time you've ever been this quiet around him. You purse your lips, glancing down briefly at your feet as you keep on treading the rest of the way home. "Yeah, all good. I'm just tired," you tell him, visibly unenthusiastic despite the smile you try to fake. "I just need to sleep it off."

"The project stressing you out?"

"I guess, yeah."

"And here I thought maybe you were avoiding me," he says, half a joke, half inquisitive. "Were you?"

"Was I what?"

"Were you avoiding me?"

You give him a weird look, one that's meant to be dismissive and call his question ridiculous even though you know you've been caught. And maybe it's the over-the-top glance that you throw his way and the way your pitch goes higher when you reply, "Why would I be avoiding you?" that makes him stop walking.

On the other side of the street, there's a couple of kids in high school uniforms, exchanging shy glances and sharing fond giggles.

Minho calls your name softly, and it's like you're just waiting for the ball to drop. You don't want to turn back and look at him, but what other option do you have? What else is there to do?

You can't decipher the expression on his face. He's still calm, but the air has turned serious, the silence of the mostly empty streets surrounding you only serves as the soundtrack of your impending heartbreak. The tender and innocent laughter fades away when young love moves further and further from where you stand. "What?" you ask with faux nonchalance as you look at him, another attempt at stalling. Biding your time even though a few more minutes aren't going to do any good for your case.

Anyone with half a braincell could tell that clearly it's not the truth, let alone someone who has learned to read you better than the back of his hand. He doesn't look like he believes you, though he doesn't push it, much to your surprise.

"Okay," he says after a moment of studying you, and this should be the part where you heave a sigh of relief because he's letting you off the hook for now, but your chest doesn't feel lighter at all. Your head is clouded with dread, with the anticipation that you're only delaying the inevitable.

You walk the rest of the way in awful silence, because you know that he knows something is wrong. You try your best to appear composed, but he sees right through you. You know he does.

You must look like a frightened animal, one that's about to take off running any second now.

When you reach your building, Minho is quick to keep you with him before you can make up a lame excuse and bolt.

"Hey," he starts, his voice so impossibly gentle that it hurts. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Heavier and heavier, it weighs you down until you feel like your chest is going to collapse. The nerves gnaw on you, clawing into you until you feel your heartbeat quicken, the overwhelming dread simmering low in your belly.

"I know," you say, but deep down, what you're really thinking is, Not this. This is the one thing I can't tell you.

"Is everything okay?"

It's the way that Minho's got his gaze set on you with those deep brown irises, the concern so apparent in them that it hurts you. It's the way he looks like he wants to reach out and touch you - a comforting hand on your shoulder or your back like you're so familiar with - but he has to hold himself back or you might slip away.

It's him, how he always puts you first, how he cares about you in ways that you've never been cared about before. He understands you, he sees you. It feels like it could be love if you let the lines blur just enough.

Is love supposed to hurt? Like this?

Maybe it's not that you don't know how to hold love. Maybe it's because you're not meant to hold it at all. Insignificant, unlovable.

And... it's the reminder that cuts through the dread like the sharpest knife.

You leave his question unanswered, because nothing is okay and you can't tell him any of it. You can't lie to him either, because it's the last thing that you want to do to him.

Instead, you ask, "We're good... right? We're okay?"

"What do you mean?"

You gesture between the two of you, though you're not sure what that's supposed to signify. "Just...," you trail off for a second, hesitant. "Nothing's changed, right?"

Minho doesn't answer right away. He looks at you for a moment, searching for something in your eyes that you can't tell if he's able to find.

He nods, seemingly wistful as he says, "Nothing's changed."

He seems unsure about it, at least more than he was just a few weeks ago when he told you the same thing in your apartment with his fingers wrapped around your wrist. The tug between his brows - though barely noticeable - tells you as much.

Is it because something is different now? Or does he only sound uncertain out of concern, because of you and how you're acting?

Then he continues, "For me, at least."

And there it is.

It's the confirmation this time around that turns you inside out so his simple words could cut into you.

You swallow thickly, put on a smile like you're pleased with his answer even though you're trying your hardest to stop yourself from shaking. Whatever energy you had left is instantly drained from you just because of a few words.

Your sentences get smashed together, tangled up like barbed wire and they only make you bleed when you try to pull them apart. All your nervous tics coming out to play despite your best efforts to keep them at bay. A frustrated hand running through your hair, gripping at the roots a little harshly. Your bottom lip pulled between your teeth and your eyes turning glassy for a split second before you blink the moisture away, because you can't let Minho see you like this. See you trying to keep your pathetic heart intact while he's none the wiser.

He's fine. And unlike you, he's going to be okay when this is over.

Unavoidable and inevitable, the end will come whether you like it or not. You're the only one who won't make it out unscathed, and it will only shatter you into more pieces the longer you drag this out.

Just rip the bandaid off. Salvage whatever you can. Stop digging the grave even deeper for yourself.

One second, then two, then three. You don't speak until you have enough faith that your voice is even enough to carry out a few sentences.

"Okay, uhm... I think I need some time for myself. We should..." But it isn't, and you crack halfway through. The sound is deafening to your own ears. "We should take a break. We should stop this."

Minho doesn't question if you mean the secret between the two of you, or your friendship entirely. Instead, he asks, "Why?"

"I told you." You clear your throat. "I need time for myself."

You can't tell what he's thinking, but the knife twists inside of you nonetheless.

He takes a step closer, you take a step back.

You watch as his face falls, and the same feeling mirrors itself within the confines of your ribcage. Your heart drops at the sight of his eyes, deep brown irises stained with a little confusion, then a little hurt though it lasts for only a few seconds. The slight slump of his shoulders, the absence of the familiar playfulness he always sports when he's with you.

He blinks.

"Time for yourself, or time away from me?"

You say nothing.

You don't address his question directly, and your reluctance to do so is a loud enough answer in and of itself. "Why does that matter? What's the difference?"

"It matters if I did something to upset you."

"You didn't."

"Okay. So?"

This is confusing, because he's not letting you rip the bandaid clean off and you don't know why. "Nothing's changed, right? If it didn't mean anything to you, why can't you just drop this?"

Minho is quiet for a beat. His eyes are searching again, but this time, you think he finds something.

Everything is still and you hate it - the silence of the streets, the scrutinizing orange glow of the streetlights as if they're watching the scene unfold, even the innocent cat that's sitting by itself on the balcony on one of the floors higher up. You hate all of it.

"I never said it didn't mean anything," he tells you.

It makes you a little angry for some reason, and there's enough red to cloud your vision because his words are contradicting and you're tired, you're so exhausted that you can't focus on what it is that he's really saying.

"So you lied to me?"

"I've never lied to you."

"I asked you before and you said nothing's changed. Now you're saying whatever this is didn't not mean anything. Make up your mind."

It gets redder when he keeps his eyes fixed on you, still so calm despite the frown that has returned to its place between his brows. Still so collected, while you're being pulled apart at the seams.

The ball doesn't drop the way you expect it to. It keeps falling so insufferably slowly, hanging over you like it's mocking you for being stupid, like it's milking every second of suspense to make you implode.

Until Minho speaks next and suddenly, it feels like the air has been sucked out of your lungs. His voice, still so soft and tender. His eyes, reading something in yours that you can't bear to admit out loud.

"You really don't see it, do you?"

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 24.06.2024]

[writingstoraes]

merry and bright 🎄

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!reader

type: instagram imagine, social media au

notes: aaaa i really missed writing here! it's been months since i last posted but since i have a short holiday break, i thought why not get back into it! sooo here's a small holiday piece! hope you're all having a nice holiday so far 🤍

about: christmas shenanigans with charles!

yourusername

liked by joris__trouche, arthurleclerc, wags4eva, and 205,283 others

yourusername someone's finally home for the holidays 🎄missed you beyond words, my love!

lecslover MY PARENTS

scuderiaferrari Happy holidays, Y/N and Charles! ❤️

charles_leclerc Brb, putting mistletoe in every corner of the house 😅

hamilwhattt HES SO????

charles_leclerc

liked by carlossainz55, alexalbon23, maxverstappen, and 670,294 others

charles_leclerc 'Tis the season

yourusername why didn't you post your very beautiful gingerbread man cookies? 🤔

arthurleclerc Beautiful???? pierregasly Come on Arthur, it's Charles - of course Y/N is being sarcastic charles_leclerc I do not wish any of you a Merry Christmas 😑

maxverstappen Tell Y/N Penelope misses her baking!

lecssainz55 if you zoom in on the tree you can see me on top of the star about to jump

yourusername and charles_leclerc recently added to their instagram stories!

yourusername

liked by lilymhe, racingthusiasts, lorenzotl, and 321,242 others

yourusername freezing cold these days... thanks for keeping me warm charles_leclerc 😘

charles_leclerc Only put in this world for your thermal purposes, amour

lestappenz THERMAL PURPOSESHWBHW

hotcars need me someone to keep me warm too 😣

charles_leclerc

liked by maxverstappen, scuderiaferrari, arthurleclerc, and 832,394 others

charles_leclerc The best gift I could ever ask for 🎁

yourusername is???

charles_leclerc You, obviously 😘

pierregasly Happy holidays, lovebirds 🎄

alexalbon23 Merry Christmas, Charles and Y/N!

danielricciardo Soulmates are reunited I see...

riclaren OHH daniel is a charles and y/n enthusiast???

yourusername

liked by lorenzotl, wagslove, scuderiaferrari, and 203,294 others

yourusername best time of the year 🎄 hope everyone is feeling merry and bright 🤍

tagged: charles_leclerc

lilymhe Happy holidays my loves ❤️

isahernaez happy holidays, y/n and charles! meet up soon xo

wagstuff THE RING??? IS THIS???? AN ANNOUNCEMENT

yourusername merry christmas, user wagstuff :)

-------

notes: wishing everyone happy holidays! hope you're all surrounded by loved ones :) tysm for reading and pls don't be shy to let me know what you guys thought of this!

tagging: @slytherheign, @honethatty12, @siovhanroy, @fdl305, @iloveyou3000morgan, @cxcewg, @sassyheroneckgiant, @ang3licho3, @pitlanebabe, @riverdalexvixens, @msliz, @boherahpsody @storminacloud @leclercdream (if anyone else wants to be a part of my taglist or if i forgot anyone that asked to be tagged, pls lmk by replying or sending me a message hehe)

[pitinthelanepages]

La Route Vers Toi

summary: moments where charles leclerc found himself having questionable feelings for his best friend, you, since he was seventeen.

pairing: charles leclerc x best friend! reader

word count: 4.5k

genre: romance, angst, drama

a/n: please be aware that this piece of writing mentions death but it isn't the focus of the story. it is mentioned to show how the characters deal with loss and the grief and sadness that comes with it. if it's upsetting to you. i advise you not to read it. thank you!

gif credit to @countingstars-17

Charles was seventeen when he had realised something was awfully wrong with him. It was a Friday night, and he was sitting on the couch with his best friend, you, watching a low-budget Christmas movie. The main reason to do that was so that both of you could point out the mistakes and get a good laugh out of it. Just like how you did once in a while when you finally had free time.

However, on that particular night, his eyes kept wandering to you, who was sitting next to him with your legs tucked under you. He couldn't help but notice the way your long lashes brushed against your cheek when you laughed, or the way your full lips curled up in a smile.

It was then that he realised he had been feeling this way for a while. He had always thought you were beautiful, which, of course he would think because you were his best friend. He couldn’t just think you are not beautiful but now he found himself drawn to you in a way that he couldn't explain and now, it’s not out of the reason that you were his best friend. He just didn’t know what that meant, not yet.

He couldn't stop noticing the small things about you, like the way your jet black hair fell in soft waves around your face or the way you absentmindedly twirled a strand of hair around your finger.

As the movie continued, Charles found himself growing more and more restless. Instead of pointing at the screen of the TV before him and bursting out in laughter before saying something awfully mean about the movie, he went still, as if he was frozen. 

He tried to focus on the movie and ignore the flutter of his stomach when you placed a hand on his arm, but it was impossible. He found himself studying your hand instead, how it’s so much smaller than his. How it would fit perfectly in his-

A hand appeared in front of his eyes before he heard the fingers snap. “Charles? Are you even listening?” you asked, a frown taking over your features.

Charles snapped out of his thoughts and looked up at you. "Uh, sorry. What were you saying?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

"I said this is so bad it's good," you said with a chuckle, pointing at the screen.

"I can't believe they even made this," Charles replied, shaking his head in amusement but also relieved that he could finally distract himself from thinking about you.

"Look at that CGI," you pointed out as the poorly rendered reindeer flew across the screen. "It's like they didn't even try."

Charles snickered. "And the acting! It's like they picked up random people off the street and put them in the movie."

You couldn't help but giggle at his comment. "I bet we could do a better job than this."

"Definitely," Charles agreed, a mischievous glint in his eye. "We should make our own Christmas movie."

You couldn't help but grin at the idea. "With reindeer that actually look like reindeer?"

"And actors who can actually act," Charles added with a chuckle.

At one point, you paused the movie and got up to make some popcorn. Charles watched you as you moved around the kitchen, admiring the way you moved with such grace and ease.

When you returned with a bowl of popcorn, you plopped down on the couch next to him and resumed the movie.

As the movie went on, the jokes and laughter continued. Charles found himself feeling more and more comfortable in your presence, like he could truly be himself around you. He couldn't help but think about how lucky he was to have you in his life, as both his best friend and someone he was starting to feel more for.

Finally, the movie ended, and both of you collapsed on the couch in exhaustion from laughing so hard. Charles turned to you, a wide smile on his face.

"That was so bad," he said, shaking his head.

"I know, right? I can't believe we actually watched that," you replied, giggling.

Charles leaned in a little closer, feeling a rush of courage. "You know what wasn't bad though?" he asked, his eyes locking onto yours.

"What?" you asked, looking at him with a quizzical expression.

"This. Just hanging out with you. It's always the best part of my tiring weeks of training," he said, feeling his heart pounding in his chest.

You smiled at him, and for a moment, Charles thought he saw something more in your expression. But before he could fully process it, you leaned in and gave him a warm hug.

"I feel the same way, Charles. You're the best friend I could ever ask for," you said, squeezing him tightly.

Charles felt a pang of disappointment, his face falling. But he pushed it aside, what mattered is having you beside him for now. The two of you stayed on the couch for a while longer, talking and laughing until the late hours of the night.

Charles was nineteen when he had lost the most important person in his life, his idol, his father. The world had come crashing down on him, leaving him in a sea of grief and sadness. It was as if someone had pulled the rug from under his feet, leaving him stumbling in the dark.

Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, but the pain never went away. To the world, he was a strong young boy who had won the Formula 2 race in Baku just four days after his father’s demise. However, the grief had become a part of him, a constant companion that he couldn't shake off. Everywhere he went, he saw reminders of his father. The sound of a car engine, the smell of gasoline, the sight of a racing track, all brought back memories of the times they had spent together.

Charles sat on his balcony, his eyes fixed on the distant skyline. The sun had just set, casting a golden glow across the city. He didn't move, didn't speak. He just sat there, lost in his thoughts.

As you approached him, you could see the sadness etched on his face. You placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, and he turned to look at you, his eyes red-rimmed from crying.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to be so distant."

You shook your head. "It's okay," you said, taking a seat beside him. "You don't have to apologise."

Charles sighed deeply, and you could feel the weight of his grief pressing down on him. "It's just...it's hard, you know? Losing someone you love."

You nodded, knowing that there were no words that could ease his pain. "I know. But you're not alone, Charles. I'm here for you."

He looked at you then, his eyes searching for something. "Thank you," he said softly. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

You smiled, reaching out to take his hand. "You don't have to do anything alone. That's what friends are for."

Charles leaned his head back, his eyes closing as he took a deep breath. "I know," he said. "It's just...sometimes it feels like the weight of the world is on my shoulders."

You squeezed his hand, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. "You don't have to carry that weight alone, Charles. I'm here for you, always."

He looked at you then, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "Thank you," he said again, his voice choked with emotion.

You sat there with him, the two of you watching the city lights twinkling in the distance. You knew that you couldn't take away his pain, but you could be there for him. And in that moment, that was enough.

In those dark moments, when Charles felt like he had no one left to support him, you were there. As his best friend, you stood by him through thick and thin, offering a shoulder to cry on and a listening ear whenever he needed it. You never judged him for his tears or his anger, but rather held him close and whispered words of comfort and encouragement.

It was in those moments that Charles realised just how important you were to him. You were his rock, his safe haven, his confidante. Without you, he didn't know how he would have made it through those dark days. You gave him hope and reminded him that he was not alone.

Charles is twenty-five years old and things aren't exactly going his way. Actually, things are only going downhill. The 2022 Formula 1 season started off well for him, but lately, everything seems to be going wrong. His car has been malfunctioning, and he's had to retire early from the last few races. His team wasn’t exactly the best at their job, in fact, they were nowhere near descent and his confidence is at an all-time low.

Adding insult to injury, his girlfriend recently broke up with him. They had been dating for a while, and Charles thought things were going well. But then things somehow didn’t work out for them. They were adults with two very different lives and priorities after all but Charles couldn’t help but be devastated. It’s like the world was punishing him for some godforsaken sin he had committed without knowing. 

He's been feeling lost and alone, with no one to turn to. You have been busy with your own life and job, and he doesn't want to burden you with his problems. But as he sits on his couch, staring blankly at the wall, he can't help but feel like he needs someone to talk to.

Just then, his phone buzzes. It's a text from you. "Hey, how are you doing?"

Charles hesitates for a moment before typing back, "Not great, to be honest. Can we talk?"

You reply immediately, "Of course. I'll be there in 20 minutes, let me finish this meeting."

And you do keep your word. You arrive at his apartment in about thirty minutes, the apartment door opening to reveal a Charles who has lost the glow of his face. You can sense the pain through his eyes. 

"Hey, what's going on?" You ask, concern evident on your face as you frown.

Charles takes a deep breath before starting to speak. "My season's going terribly. My car's malfunctioning, I keep crashing, and my girlfriend just broke up with me. I don't know what to do," he shrugs, doing a terrible job at playing nonchalant because you know him too well and can see through his facade before anyone else.

You nod, sighing. "I'm sorry, Charles. That must be a lot to handle." 

"I just feel so lost," Charles says, his voice cracking. "I thought things were going well, but now it feels like everything's falling apart."

Honestly you have a lot to say but Charles doesn’t seem to be in the mood to take advice so you place a hand on his shoulder, knowing what he needs at the moment is comfort. "I know it's tough, and what I am about to say is gonna sound toxic but you can't give up. You're a talented driver, and more than that, you have worked too hard to be where you are right now, Charles. You know I have witnessed you going through it all, don’t you?"

"But it feels like nothing's going my way," Charles says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm so tired of all of this."

You look at him with concern. "Have you talked to anyone on your team? Maybe they can help you with your car."

Charles shakes his head. "I don't want to seem like I'm not capable of handling things on my own. Plus, they are the last people I would wanna talk to right now knowing how they’ve been recently." He mumbles, his head on his palm. 

"Charles, you don't have to do everything on your own," You say firmly. "It's okay to ask for help when you need it. You have people who care about you and want to see you succeed."

Charles looks at you, his face softening. "What would I do without you?"

You smile at him. "You don't have to worry about that. I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

Both of you sit there in silence for a few moments, with your arm around Charles' shoulder. The only sound is the ticking of the clock on the wall.

Finally, Charles speaks up again. "I'm sorry for burdening you with all of this. You have your own life and your own problems."

You sigh, here he goes again. “Charles, please. Why do you have to make things awkward by saying these, huh? I’m your best friend for a reason. Stop saying sorry,” You huff, looking annoyed to which he chuckles, his voice resonating in the living room of his quiet apartment. 

“There you go.” You say, smiling as you poke at one of his dimples. “Here is the actual Charles who is back.”

Charles rolls his eyes before pushing you by the shoulders, playfully. “You’re so cheesy, eww.”

Later that night, Charles lies in bed staring at the ceiling, his mind racing with thoughts. The conversation with you had helped him feel better, but it had also brought up some confusing feelings.

He has always known that he cares about you deeply. You have been best friends since forever, and you have been there for him through his good and bad times. But now, he wonders if there could be something more than just friendship between you two.

As he lies there, he can't help but wonder if you ever thought of this possibility. He has never been good at reading people, but he has always thought that there is something more between you two.

He shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. This is not the time to be thinking about this. He has enough on his plate as it is.

But no matter how hard he tries, he can't shake the feeling that something has changed. He can't stop thinking about the way you had looked at him earlier, the concern evident in your eyes. He can't help but wonder if there is something more behind that concern.

He sighs, turning over onto his side. He knows he should talk to you about this, but he is scared of ruining the friendship you two have built over the years. He doesn't want to risk losing you, but at the same time, he can't keep these feelings bottled up inside forever.

As he drifts off to sleep, his mind still filled with thoughts of you, he knows that he will have to confront his feelings sooner or later. But for now, he will try to push them aside and focus on getting his life back on track.

Charles is sitting on his couch, lost in thought, when he hears a knock at his door. It's late, and he isn't expecting anyone, but he gets up to answer it anyway. As he opens the door, he sees you standing there, completely drenched from the rain, tears streaming down your face.

Despite the tears streaming down your face, Charles can't help but notice how beautiful you look in that moment. The rain has matted your hair to your face, your nose and lips are red and swollen. The vulnerability in your eyes makes his heart ache, and he wishes he could do something to take the pain away. He doesn’t remember the last time he has seen you like this before, so raw and exposed, and it makes him want to wrap his arms around you and hold you close.

Without a word, he pulls you inside and closes the door behind you. You collapse onto his couch, still crying, and Charles sits down next to you, unsure of what to say.

"Hey, it's okay," he says, brows pinched together in concern, placing a hand on your shoulder. "What happened? Why are you crying?"

You take a deep breath before answering. "It's him," you say, your voice shaking. "He's left me for another girl. I don't know what to do."

Charles feels a pang of anger and sadness for you. He knows how much you care for this guy and how much you have invested in the relationship. But he also knows that he hasn't been the best friend to you lately, too wrapped up in his own problems to notice yours.

"I'm so sorry," he says, squeezing your shoulder. "That's terrible. Do you want to talk about it?"

You nod, wiping away tears. "I just don't understand how he could do this to me. We were so good together. And now he's just gone, with someone else."

Charles listens as you talk, offering comfort and support where he can. As you speak, he realises how much he has taken you for granted as a friend. He has always known that you are there for him, but he has never fully appreciated just how much you have given to him.

He stares at you, noticing yet again how even with tears streaming down your face and your clothes drenched from the rain, you still look so breathtakingly beautiful. 

"I'm sorry," he interrupts you, voice laced with guilt. "I should have been there for you more. I've been so wrapped up in my own stuff that I haven't been a good friend to you. And that's not fair."

You look up at him, surprised by his words. "What are you talking about?"

"I mean it," Charles says, looking you in the eye. "I should have been there for you more. You've always been there for me, and I haven't done the same for you. And I'm sorry."

Tears well up in your eyes again.. "Thank you," you say, leaning into him for a hug. "I don’t think that’s true but saying that means a lot to me."

Charles wraps his arms around you, holding you close. In that moment, he realises that he doesn't just care about you as a friend. He cares about you as something more, something deeper. And as he holds you, he wonders if he will ever muster up the courage to tell you about it.

But for now, he will focus on being the friend you need. Because that's what you deserve, and that's what he should have been all along.

Charles doesn't know how to react when he finds his phone buzzing at the odd hour of 3 am. He rubs his eyes and squints at the caller ID. It’s you. He can’t help but frown. You have always been the more responsible one out of you two. What could have caused you to call him this late at night?

"Hello? Are you okay?" Charles asks, his voice deep and hoarse from sleep.

"Chaarlessss!" You slur into the phone. "Dude, I am at this stupid club… and I have no idea where the exit is," you giggle into the phone as if it’s something funny.

Charles’ brows pinch together in concern, his heart sinking at the sound of your voice. He can tell from the background noise that you are drunk at a club and making little sense.

"Okay, turn on your location so I can come find you," he says patiently, trying not to sound disappointed. How down bad did you have to be for a man to react like this? He can’t help but let the wave of sadness wash over him. You must’ve liked the guy a lot.

You do as you are told, and Charles quickly gets dressed and heads out to the club. When he arrives, he can hear the thumping bass from outside. He soon finds you sitting slumped against a wall, looking lost and dishevelled. And yet at a time like this, he can’t help but notice how pretty you look, even in your current state. Your hair is a mess, but your eyes glimmer in the dim light of the club.

"Hey," he whispers, gaze softening, kneeling down next to you. "Let's get you out of here."

He helps you up and leads you out of the club, shielding you from the flashing lights and thumping music. He carries you in his arms at one point to settle you into the passenger’s seat safely, and gets into his Ferrari before speeding back to his apartment.

You are still talking nonsensically, but Charles tries to listen only to fail because he can’t understand a single word coming out of your mouth. His chest feels tight at witnessing the person who usually gave him words of encouragement and strength, being a mess herself.

Once he arrives outside his apartment, he turns to find your eyes barely open. "Hey," he says, nudging you gently. "You alright?"

You mumble something incoherent again as your eyes are unfocused. Charles sighs, realising he has to carry you again.

"Come on," he whispers, crouching down beside you. "Let's get you to bed."

You don’t seem to have the energy to protest as Charles carefully lifts you into his arms. He can feel the weight of your body against his chest, and he adjusts his grip to make sure you are comfortable. He walks to his apartment with calculated steps and then to his bedroom, being careful not to jostle you too much. You lean against his chest, your head lolling to the side during the process of him carrying you.

Once he arrives in his bedroom, he carefully sets you down on the edge of the bed as he kneels down in front of you before gently beginning to remove your shoes, one at a time. He can see that you are struggling to keep your eyes open, and he knows that you could fall asleep any moment.

With your shoes off, Charles stands up to run his fingers through your hair in an attempt to untangle the mess. He has known you for long enough to know you are a control freak who would hate waking up with tangled hair, and he wants to make sure you are comfortable. He can feel the softness of your hair against his fingers as he gently brushes through the knots.

Finally, when your hair is smooth and soft, Charles gently guides you back onto the bed, pulling the covers up to your chin. You look up at him with bleary eyes, a small smile on your face.

"Thanks." you hum, before your eyes close.

As he is about to leave, he feels a hand wrap around his wrist. He turns to find you looking up at him, a sad smile playing on your lips as you struggle to keep your eyes open. 

"He told me I have been in love with you and not with him, that I don't know," you mumble, your words slurring together.

Charles's heart skips a beat as he stares at you, frozen in disbelief. He has always suspected that his feelings for you ran deeper than just friendship, but he has never allowed himself to entertain the thought that you might feel the same way about him.

"What?" he whispers, leaning in closer to hear you better.

Your eyes turn glassy with tears as you shake your head slightly. "Do you know how mad I was? I was more mad than upset because I knew he was right the moment he said those words. Him leaving me for another woman feels deserving," you say, your voice filled with emotion.

"Hey, it's okay," he says softly, reaching out to wipe away your tears with his thumb. "You don't have to worry about him anymore. You're here, with me."

You look up at him, your eyes shining in the dim light of the room. You reach out and touch his cheek, your fingers warm against his skin.

"I know," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "And I'm glad I am."

A warm sensation spreads through his chest. He can’t believe that this moment is finally happening, and he wants to savour every second of it.

"Me too," he whispers, kneeling down before he runs his hand through your hair gently. He contemplates for a moment as he stares at your long lashes to your plump lips, wondering if he should kiss you or not.

“What?” you frown, pouting your lips in the process. “I know what you’re thinking. What’s stopping you?”

He smirks, amused at your growing confidence. “That you’re drunk…? And that, you might not remem-”

“Shhh. I am drunk enough to confess but not drunk enough to forget all of this by tomorrow. This is done purposefully for a reason,” you place a finger on his lips while winking at him. 

He gasps, “Oh wow! Amazing! Elaborate what that means or you’re not getting the kiss.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re so annoying. What I mean is that I knew I would never have the courage to confess to you unless I am drunk but not blackout drunk so that I’d forget everything by the time I wake up. Happy? Or do you want me to say I love you again?”.

Without hesitation, Charles takes your face in his hands and leans in to kiss you. His lips soft and tender against yours. He can feel you responding eagerly to his kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer.

Your tongues tangle as his hands slide down to your waist, pulling your body against his. He can feel your curves press against him, and he savours the sensation of your warmth and softness.

As you kiss, Charles can’t help but feel like he is finally where he belongs. He has spent so many years pining for you withouting even knowing, hoping and praying that you would one day see him the way he sees you. And now that you have, Charles feels like he is on top of the world.

He deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring the depths of your mouth, and he feels you moan softly in response. The sound sends shivers down his spine, and he knows that he never wants this moment to end.

But eventually, you pull away, your breaths coming in short gasps. Charles gazes down at you, his eyes sparkling with love and desire.

"I never want to let you go," he whispers, his voice husky with emotion.

You smile up at him, eyes crinkling to signal how happy you are. "You don't have to," you reply, your hands still resting on his shoulders.

Charles leans down to kiss you again, his lips tracing a path down your neck as feels you shudder. You have waited so long for this moment, and now that it is here, Charles knows that he is never going to let it slip away.

[eviesaurusrex]

ꜱᴜɴꜱʜɪɴᴇ ᴋɪꜱꜱᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏᴄᴇᴀɴ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜᴇꜱ | ʜ. ꜱᴛʏʟᴇꜱ

GIFs not mine!

»kinda pt. 2 to this little request but it’s not required to read this now«

summary: After getting rid of every contraception method they ever used, Harry and YN finally start trying for a baby while enjoying their time in Australia.

word count: 7.3k (whoopsie)

warnings: +18 content, MDNI (I mean it), oral sex (both receiving), p in v, fluff, sweet lovemaking, loads of praises, some dirty talk, Harry has a breeding kink, and they’re both a bit possessive (not even sorry), sweet, fluffy aftercare, mentions of anxiety and future talk, mentions of pregnancy tests and being pregnant, pov always kinda jumping between YN and Harry because I obviously can’t stick to one, not 100% proofread

author’s note: This is my first ever full-on smut piece, so be gentle with me. I’m trying my best, okay? But I just couldn’t help myself, so I had to write this. Plus, I saw the pictures and gifs of Harry during his Australian shows, and he looks so damn happy there, so that certainly was another reason to write this. I don’t use the taglist this time because of the prominent 18+ topic.

»ᴍᴅɴɪ«

***

Impatiently, YN sat on the edge of the ridiculously large king-size bed their hotel suite was practically dominated by, eyes jumping between the door to the grand bathroom, in which Harry took a well-deserved shower after another exceptional show, and the phone in her restless hands, showing their shared cycle tracker. Ever since their lengthy talk right after Christmas about their future and the family planning they might wanted to start sooner rather than later, YN had abandoned every protection method in use and had gifted Gemma the several unopened packs of condoms waiting on their bathroom shelves and in their nightstand drawers.

What could she say? Harry and her always heavily indulged in the passion as soon as it came upon them—they probably had fucked on every possible surface in their shared homes. Even the floor of the several rooms they owned wasn’t unscathed.

A grin tucked at her lips as YN thought about the many risky escapades they continuously had found themselves in after a glass of wine too many in the hours prior to them, and almost fell off the bed as the door suddenly opened without warning, letting a steamy Harry back into the bedroom. The woman, already dressed in a too-large, on-her-body-hanging t-shirt of his and ready for a cozy night in bed with some Netflix, jumped from the edge she had been perched on the entire time since her phone had alarmed her of the day right after turning off the Do not disturb mode she always used during his shows. Wide eyes looked over to an only barely dried-off man, steam evaporating behind him into the warm air of their shared suite, the balcony doors widely opened to let in the fresh breeze of a beautiful Sydney night, the salty smell of the ocean mixing with the heavy scents of his favorite shower gel and shampoo.

YN couldn’t press a single word out of her abruptly constricted throat, her vocal cords twisting at the delicious, quite unexpected sight in front of her. Her eyes jumped from his handsome as-ever face over his exposed broad chest and chiseled abs, down over his veiny arms to his sexy hands—she was a weak woman, and she adored his hands to an unhealthy extent—in one he held his phone, showing the same screen she had faced for over fifteen minutes of agonizingly building anticipation of what might come tonight.

Harry’s eyes had already settled onto her own hand, holding her own phone before jumping back up to her face, cocking one perfect eyebrow before a lazy, teasing smirk made its appearance, letting him seem even more handsome than he already was. “You should’ve joined me in that shower, love,” he stated, turning off the light behind him. He walked through the room, his feet making almost no sound on the stone floor, coming closer and closer to her already overheating body. With a dry swallow, YN softly shrugged her shoulders. “Thought you could use the downtime, y’know?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, and she felt her heartbeat picking up, jumping even as Harry finally stopped right in front of her, right in arms reach. He cocked his head to one sight and watched her closely, eyebrows now gently furrowed in loving worry. “We don’t have to do this tonight, darlin’. We can easily wait for next month, or the month after, or even the month after that one if you think we should wait a bit more. I’ll do whatever you’re most comfortable with, y’know that, don’t you? I would never pressure you into this, no matter how many alarms we’ve set in the past because we thought we’d be ready.” His voice had lost the teasing, almost feral undertone and only left space for the man who would always put his woman first, no matter what.

Stretching her hand out, YN took the phone out of Harry’s and threw both devices onto the armchair next to the bed where her concert outfit lay, entirely forgotten, and letting her hands cup his face tenderly. He wrapped her into his arms straight away, pulling her body flush against his, and watched the woman he loved while she watched him just as closely. She let her fingertips glide over his skin, gently caressing his cheek, his neck, before burrowing them in the short, curly hair at the nape of his neck. Instantly, she could feel something twitch against her stomach, and with a small grin, YN tucked at his hair a second time, tickling a silent groan out of him.

“I know you would bring me the stars if I ever asked for them, but tonight, I want you to ravish me. I want you to fuck me as hard and best as possible. I only want to be able to moan your name because that’s the only thing on my mind,” YN whispered, lips barely touching, and moaned as Harry pressed them together, kissing her with a moan escaping himself. She could feel his strong, long fingers wandering from the curve of her hips over her spine to wrap them around her neck, letting her soft strands glide between them before gently winding them around his fist. With already heavy breaths escaping them, Harry ended the kiss by pulling his head jerkingly back and exposed YN’s soft neck with all the tender spots he had learned to know like the back of his mind, pulling softly at her hair still wrapped around his fist and bent his head impatiently.

With a deep, satisfied moan escaping them both, the man littered the skin soft like silk with even softer kisses, nibbling at the one spot right under her chin, definitely leaving his first mark for the night on her, before moving his lips to the next spot he knew she loved. “Fuck,” YN whispered into the void of their suite as Harry bit her neck right underneath her ear, feeling how the wetness between her thighs pooled even more in her already soaked panties—just as always when Harry had his hands, and lips, on her. “Feeling good already, darlin’?” The woman felt his whispered question more than she heard it and nodded, desperation clear in that one, quick movement, her fingers tucking urgently at his strands, moving his mouth off her neck and back to her own, hungrily awaiting his lips. With the other hand, YN reached for his, still resting on her hips where his fingers pressed into the soft flesh and the fabric of one of his shirts to move it right where she needed him most.

His chuckle was deep and held the familiar sound of utter satisfaction, and it was almost embarrassing how her body reacted to that sound.

“Oh, love,” Harry mumbled into the next kiss, but YN interrupted him with her fingers gripping between his thighs, wrapping them around his hard member and giving him a few short strokes before she got way too agitated and pulled at the white towel resting lowly on his hips. She giggled at the sound of Harry’s groan as soon as she wrapped her hand around his hard cock again, a thumb teasingly nudging the leaking tip, while she could feel his own fingers moving between her thighs. He knew how to play her body like a symphony, so it wasn’t a surprise as one of his long fingers slid through her wet folds, parting them to gain better access to all the right spots before putting more and more pressure onto her aching clit and tickling whimper after whimper out of her mouth. “Yeah, I know, love. S’feels so good, doesn’t it? Already so warm and wet and ready for me, darlin’. What a fucking good girl you are for me.” She really tried to bite back on a few of her desperate-sounding moans, but Harry’s relentless finger, teasing her clit without pause, even pushed her to only hold onto his cock without moving an inch, preventing anything like that. “Nah, don’t do that, love,” he grinned and nudged YN to stare into his pretty eyes through heavy lids. “Wanna hear every single one of those sweet sounds you only make for me. You know what you’re doing to me with them, making me fucking feral for you, always. Wanna hear how good I make you feel, can you do that for me? Yeah?”

With another breathy whimper, YN nodded, head almost floating in the pleasure. Harry smiled at the short movement and kissed her deeply before moving his hands to cup her ass and lift her up as easily as a feather, carrying her to the soft mattress. He sat her back on the edge and peppered YN’s face with kisses while his hands swiftly picked up the hem of his shirt and threw the annoying piece of fabric onto the ground in his back, his eyes already wandering up and down over the body of this living artwork right in front of him. YN leaned on her elbows, breasts heaving with every labored intake of breath, thighs rubbing against each other to release the still building-up tension. Harry sank to his knees, eyes never leaving her pretty face, hands gripping her calves and spreading her legs, gaining access to where he wanted to be just as badly as she wanted him there. “Always so beautiful for me.” Words were mumbled against the skin of her left knee from which he worked himself upwards—kissing every inch of soft exposed skin until Harry was faced with the most soaked panties he had ever witnessed since their first night together in her small apartment in London, surrounded by too many candles to still be save.

YN’s scent enveloped and invaded his senses entirely, and Harry couldn't contain the deep in his chest rumbling moan slipping over his lips as he pressed featherlike kisses to the drenched fabric he adored on his woman in every shape and form possible. He could feel the flood of precum dripping over his tip and running down his thick, veiny shaft at the first taste of her. “Fucking soaked for me, darlin’. Someone is eager.” Another set of kisses followed these words, tickling whimper and moan after whimper and moan out of YN, and he couldn't wait for a second longer before he pulled down the wet fabric covering her delicious pussy he intended to devour whole.

His cock twitched at that thought.

Putting both her thighs over his broad shoulders, the singer hummed in deeply felt pleasure as the tip of his tongue started to move between her lips, slowly opening for him, inviting him, luring him in. And he was a weak man when it came to the woman in front of him, spread open and vulnerable, only for him to see her in that state.

Even after years, Harry didn’t take it for granted, and it fueled him with utter satisfaction and something more… primal.

“Fuck, you taste so good for me, darlin’. Always so fucking sweet,” he praised her with his tongue still between her opened lips, tasting her and drinking her in. He never got enough of her—not of her taste, not of the sounds she made, not of the way her body moved for him. “But it’s different today, isn’t it? Even sweeter. All ready for me and my cock, aren’t you? So eager to get fucked and filled up.” Those last words were muffled by her soaking pussy because Harry dove right into it, his need to make her feel even better too urgent, too all-consuming.

Tongue licking from the bottom of her lips up to that little, hidden pearl he may love more than YN did, or maybe not, according to the sounds she suddenly let out as his lips wrapped around it after teasing it for only a second with the tip of his eager tongue. His mouth sucked and tasted her, his tongue nudged and teased, his teeth nibbled and tortured her until the cock between his legs ached and begged for just a tiny form of release. But he wasn’t able to move, even if Harry wanted to, because YN’s thighs had wrapped around his head and held him right where he was. He wouldn’t have left until she had experienced her first of hopefully many orgasms tonight anyway. Harry was nothing but an eager pleaser for his girl, just as YN was for him, and the prospect of one of her otherworldly blowjobs with those delicious lips made him moan even louder around her pulsing clit, while two of his fingers slowly buried themselves into her leaking and twitching pussy.

“Tha’ so good, darlin’? Yeah? Letting all those people out there know who you belong to, hm? Haven’t even properly started taking care of tha’ sweet, little cunt of yours, love. Bu’ keep goin’, lovie. Keep being a good girl for me, and enjoy yourself on my fingers and tongue. Y’love tha’, don’t ya? C’mon, baby, let me hear how much y’love it.”

He could sit in front of her and talk dirty to her without even touching a single inch of her body, and YN knew she would cum on the spot. But this, this was so much better.

With a breathy moan, one of many, she pushed herself slightly back up on her arm, stretching a hand out for him, and buried her fingers into his soft locks. Her eyes were heavy from lust and the impending orgasm she already felt building up slowly, but still, she locked eyes with Harry, moaning again at the tasty sight in between her thighs.

Only mere hours earlier, he had sung for every single one of his fans, but now, he only belonged to her. It was an exhilarating thought and almost pushed her over the edge.

Wetting her lips with her tongue, YN sucked in a shaky breath as Harry sucked harder on her aching clit and made her feel every tuck of his mouth through her entire body. “Feels so good, H, so fucking good. You’re the only one w-who makes me feel this good, makes me so wet, turns me into a mess. Fucking hell.” She let her head fall back, eyes closing, and moved her hips against his mouth, increasing the pressure on her clit, pushing his perfect fingers deeper inside her. “’m only yours, H. Was ever only yours, from the first moment, from the first time you said my name. Oh god, don’t stop, don’t fucking stop. Right there, fuck.” Turning her into an incoherent mess was an easy task for him, YN knew that, and still, it always amazed her. She looked back down at him while moan after moan left her mouth, couldn’t rip her eyes off him, not even when he started to suck harder on her clit. He between her legs, eating her out, was nothing more than a piece of art. “Cum for me, love. C’mon, make me proud and cum for me,” Harry whispered between sucking and thrusting his fingers deeper and faster into her tight pussy, angling them just right to hit that spot over and over again. YN didn’t know where upside and down were as the orgasm that had built up ever since Harry had started his delicious torture finally snapped like a rubber band inside of her and turned her into a moaning mess while her ears still picked up on the words he spoke between softer licks and kisses and in between moaning his name for the world to hear. “That’s it, good girl. C’mon, just a bit more. Yeah, that’s it. Bloody hell, y’did so well for me. My perfect girl.”

After a few moments, YN could feel how her legs got softly opened, unwrapped by his loving hands, and felt the mattress dip right beside her as Harry climbed into bed, pressing his body right against hers as she still came down from the otherworldly bliss. Kisses were pressed against her shoulder and onto her face, fingers gently caressing over slightly damp skin, letting goosebumps return once more. Blinking, the blissed-out woman looked up at the man next to her and returned the smile with the same intensity. “Back with me, darlin’?” A nod followed the question before YN rolled on Harry and kissed him, letting her tongue glide over his full bottom lip while she felt his rock-hard cock pressed against her thigh, desperate for some attention. “’m not the only eager one, am I?” She grinned, and Harry chuckled but gasped for air as her fingertips slowly glided from the base of his shaft to the wet tip of his cock, feeling it twitch against her skin. YN kissed him once more and wrapped her hand around him, only barely able to reach around with her fingers, and hummed, satisfied, at the deep moan Harry let out into the kiss. “Wanna make you feel good, baby,” she whispered between soft pecks of their lips, nearly whimpering at the thought of pleasing him. “Wanna make you feel so fucking good. Is that okay?”

One of his hands nestled into the curve of her neck to press a hard kiss to her lips, swallowing the moan escaping him again. “Please, fuck, yes, whatever you want, love.” Another small grin stretched over YN’s face, covering his chin and neck in tender kisses before moving lower and lower, working her way over the expanse of his chest, tucking at one of his nipples with her teeth and giggled as Harry arched his back a bit. She felt his hand clench and unclench, still resting on her neck, his thumb softly stroking over her skin. “You’re so pretty, love,” YN mumbled against the skin of his stomach, following the mountains and valleys of his abs with the tip of her tongue, alternating between licks and kisses. “You’re the most handsome and loving man this earth has ever seen, and I’m the lucky one to call you mine,” she continued, kissing his left hipbone before moving to the right, but leaving out the angry red tip of his cock stretching its way towards her. “I’m the luckiest woman on this planet, y’know tha’? Only because you chose me over all the others. Never gonna take that for granted, my love. I’ll cherish you forever and ever.”

Gently, she bit into the skin of his pelvis but couldn’t move further because suddenly, Harry pulled her up as he sat up, legs spread deliciously wide, and kissed her deeply, his tongue invading her mouth and conquering every part of it. Fingers clung to one another, burrowing and holding, caressing and gripping. “Bloody hell, I love you so much,” Harry breathlessly whispered, making YN smile softly. “Just as much as I love you,” she returned with another tender kiss. “Can I continue now, though? I finally wanna taste you. Wanted tha’ since I saw you in the dressing room in those tight jeans. You have such a pretty ass, baby. Wanted to bite it and push my hand in the back pocket, so everyone could’ve seen that I’m the only one allowed to touch you like that.” YN meant every single word, not only because Harry always looked like the tastiest snack on earth but also because she expressed her love primarily through acts of physical affection. Gladly, Harry was just the same.

“‘Been checking me out, baby?” Harry grinned, but the grin soon disappeared as his mouth parted in utter bliss. Her hand got a tighter grip around his cock, his skin burning against hers, and while she felt that one thick vein pulsing heavily against her palm, YN moved back to one of her favorite spots—right between his legs, her eyes never leaving his.

She held his gaze captive like a goddess at her first arrival on earth, captivating every living creature. Her eyes alone made him moan softly, his hand wandering back to her, cupping her cheek. Harry didn’t even let his head fall back into his neck as her lips touched his aching cock, even though he felt the urge to revel in that feeling—but watching YN was much better and almost made him cum on the spot.

He watched how her lips pressed open-mouthed kisses from his heavy balls over the entirety of the underside of his shaft, feeling her tongue play with the prominent vein running alongside it, observing her tongue as it got more and more visible the closer she got to his leaking tip. Harry couldn’t contain a single moan leaving his mouth, his thumb started to caress the skin over her cheekbone lovingly, his lips parted and his breath hitching in his throat at the moment of her kitten-licking the underside of his sensitive mushroom tip. Groaning, Harry let his head hang down and took a deep breath in but kept watching YN, entirely mesmerized by the view in front of him. She started gently sucking on him, and he moaned just as much as she did as he felt the vibration of her sounds echoing through his cock and his entire body, teasing and working him up even more. His hips jerked upwards, and Harry felt as if he would lose his mind with more of his cock covered by her warm mouth and the pressure of her perfect lips wrapped around his member, pushing him to whimper quietly.

“YNN…,” he couldn’t stop from moaning her name in that desperate tone. Instantly, he felt her sucking stop and opened his closed eyes, looking down at her again, locking gazes with her. Harry let the pad of his thumb stroke over her cheek and chin again. “Don’t tease me, don’t stop, don’t torture me. Barely can stop myself from jus’ taking you, l-love.” He wasn’t able to finish his sentence before YN started sucking again, harder and deeper this time, swallowing almost every inch of his impressive length, her stroking hand taking care of the few inches she couldn’t quite fit. But it didn’t matter because Harry reveled in the warm and wet, literally perfect feeling of her sucking mouth, the alternating pressure of her lips when she moved up and down his thick, demanding cock, the swirl of her perfect little tongue around his messy head, leaking precum all over it. Her moans gave him the rest every time she tasted the salty drops trickling out of his slit to which she tended special care, always letting her tongue kitten-lick it, letting her lips close around it to suck the living daylights out of him. Harry was a moaning mess underneath her magic mouth, thrusting his pelvis up into her mouth and apologizing with deep, rumbling but breathy whispers when he made her gag around his cock by mere impatience and thoughtlessness.

Only a few more of her sucks was he able to endure before Harry pushed his hand into her neck anew and roughly pulled her with a deep “Bloody hell, woman” up, straight to his lips. They crashed against each other, and Harry was fast to grab her soft hips with both hands, pulling her closer to him and only stopped when he finally felt her peaking nipples pressed against his chest and her dripping pussy hovering over his cock, already teasing the tip with those perfect wet lips, hugging him.

“You want that, love? You wanna get filled up by me? Filled up by my cock and my thick cum? Wanna get all full and round with my babies, pretty girl? Wanna finally make me a daddy?” His voice sent shivers down her spine, deep and husky with all the lust and feral need he felt, and embarrassingly, YN felt how her pussy dripped down onto his mushroom tip, soaking him with her own need. All she could do was nod quickly and jerkingly, already losing the ability to move her body. But Harry couldn’t leave it at that. YN felt how he gently took her chin between his fingers and forced her to look at him, moving their foreheads apart. “C’mon, love. I know you can be my good girl.” She felt how a soft whimper left her lips and wanted to hide her face at his neck for being so needy and whiny, but instead, she cupped Harry’s face with both hands and moved her hips slowly to tease his cock right underneath her. “Need you to fill me up. Need you to fuck me full of your cum, so I can carry your pretty babies, Harry. Want to make you a dad, wan’to have all your babies, fuck, want to spend the rest of my life with you, love.” YN felt as if she needed to cry in a few seconds with all the emotions bubbling up inside her, but Harry pulled her flush against his chest again, forcing their lips to crash against each other, and entered with one quick thrust into her, stretching her so good and deliciously that she didn’t want to hold back the screaming moan.

The opened windows weren’t on their mind any longer.

His moan in her ears was better than every song he could ever write for her. How he let his head fall backward with closed eyes and parted lips was more beautiful than any sculpture of the old masters combined.

She couldn’t get enough of him and the noises he made because of her, so she started to move on top of him, both arms tightly wrapped around his shoulders and neck now, letting her hips circle his cock, stretching herself further and further with every deeper hitting thrust. Harry’s hands wandered over her body and grabbed her hips again, supporting her thrusting movements, pulling her even further down until he was buried with every inch inside her warm, him tightly gripping pussy. “Tha’s it, love. Fuck, you feel incredible. Gosh, so fucking good. So tight and warm around me. Didn’t want me to leave that tight cunt again, don’t you? Holding onto me like a damn vice, bloody fucking hell.”

With that, Harry switched their position as easily as getting up from a chair, pressing YN down into the mattress, and wrapping her legs around his waist again. Her hands rested on his abs while he started to fuck into her—every thrust grew bolder and harder before he slowed down again to let his hips circle and his pelvis rub against her clit, letting YN arch her back against his body. “I love you, love you so much, H. More than anything,” she almost sobbed through the fog of pleasure, hands gliding over his chest and clasped them behind his neck, her fingers tangling into his soft locks and pulling him down to her, kissing him with every ounce of love she held for him. “I know, darlin’. God, you’re the best thing in my life, y’know tha’, right? The best fucking thing. Making my days always so bright and joyful, letting me feel like floating on a freaking cloud, baby. Can’t wait to call you my wife, the mother of my children. Oh god, you’re everything.” YN moaned at his lips as he stilled, deep inside her, feeling his cock twitch once, twice, before he moved again, so much slower this time.

His hand on her neck and his thumb caressing her jawline made her open her eyes again, moaning and whimpering softly as he hit that spot perfectly, over and over again. And with that came another building-up orgasm, making her clench around his throbbing, thrusting cock, pushing her to wrap her legs tighter around his hips, her fingers burying themselves deeper into Harry’s soft strands, tucking gently at them and making him choke on another moan. He grunted above her, eyes never leaving hers or her face, always staring down at her, taking her in. With every kiss, they drank each other in before Harry turned his attention to her breasts, still fucking her slowly into the mattress, his lips gently wrapped around her right nipple and started to suck and softly bite on it. “They’ll be so full, m’love,�� Harry whisper-moaned between kisses. “So full after I’ve cum deep inside and bred you, lovie. Can’t fucking wait for it.”

With every word leaving his mouth, every syllable whispered against her skin, YN grew wetter and wetter, arching in his direction, pressing her hips into his, following his thrusts. “I’ll keep you pregnant, darlin’ because I already know I’ll love every second of it. Will worship you even more than I already do, praising the ground you’re walking on, never letting you out of my sight because I’ll be fucking obsessed with you. You’ve already bewitched me, love, how is this even possible, fuck.” YN had to giggle between a whimper and a moan, making Harry chuckle against her right breast as well before he came back up and kissed her longingly, nudging her lips apart with his eager tongue, teasing hers, moaned into her mouth as he buried his cock as deeply as possible in her clenching and twitching pussy.

A hand wandered from her neck over her breasts, down over her stomach, and right between them. Fingers started teasing, gently circling her clit, and letting YN throw her head back into the pillows, gasping for air as the impending orgasm came closer and closer. “I want you to cum for me again, darlin’. Want you to cum for me so I can fill your tight little cunt up with my thick cum. Let me breed you, love. Let me make you a pretty mommy. C’mon, lovie, c‘mon. I know you want it. Y’want it just as badly as I do.” Harry didn’t let go of her and continued to fuck into her, never letting go of her clit, always teasing more out of it. “Oh, shit,” YN whimpered, one hand gripping the pillow next to her while she pressed the other onto her mouth, screwed her eyes shut, and let her head fall back once more. It only lasted for a few seconds because she needed to see him, needed to see his face when he’d finally released inside her, realizing that they might have made a baby together.

“Please, Harry. Fuck. Please,” she whimpered against his lips after he had bent down to her again and pressed loving kisses to them, begging him for everything she wanted. “Use your… fuck… use your words, baby,” he moaned above her, steadying himself with a hand right next to her face, using the perfect angle to hit as deeply as physically possible. “Please—oh god—cum inside me, Harry. Need you to cum inside me and fill me with your cum, need t-to carry your babies. ‘s all I ever wanted.” YN could feel how his thrusts became harder and more uncoordinated with every passing moment after her whimpered pleads, how his finger moved a bit harder and faster on her slightly overworked clit, pushing her to feel the orgasm rolling towards her like a breaking wave. “Good girl. My good, pretty girl,” Harry breathlessly mumbled against the corner of her mouth, their foreheads touching and their eyes locked into one another. “Need you to cum for me, darlin’. I can barely hold it any longer. Wanna cum deep inside you, but I need you to cum first, okay, love?”

Only mere heartbeats later, YN felt her second orgasm approaching and screamed his name for everyone to hear, begging him to keep going, to stop, to get her pregnant, she wasn’t sure. She only remembered the expression on his face as her cunt clenched around him, gripped onto his twitching cock, and as he filled her with a deep, almost feral-sounding moan and kissed her like a man possessed.

***

“There you go, love.” Harry’s voice and tender touches pulled YN back out of her trance after orgasm number five. He knelt between her legs, a warm, wet washcloth in hand, and gently cleaned the remnants of their third—and last—round off her thighs. He pressed a kiss to her knee after he had made sure that nothing sticky was left but got a hold of her left hand where he had put his ring. “I know you’re probably worn out”—YN raised a brow at that and tickled a soft laugh out of him—“but I think it would be better if you’d come with me to the bathroom. Just a quick wash under the shower, nothing long, maybe a quick go to the loo. Sounds lovely, doesn’t it?”

Sighing, YN let Harry pull her up to her feet with both hands and leaned tiredly into his still-naked side. “Bu’ only because you’re pretty and because I love you,” she mumbled and closed her eyes at the feeling of one of his forehead kisses she always craved. “Sure thing, darlin’. Thank you.” His voice was barely above a whisper as he led her into the bathroom and prepared the shower while she indeed used the toilet before joining him under the refreshing stream of water. With Harry in her back, YN felt his hands sneaking around her body and resting them on her lower stomach, a thumb gently caressing the wet skin there. With a soft smile, she covered them with her own before intertwining their fingers, and she accepted the many kisses pressed onto her shoulder, up her neck, and to her cheek. “‘Think we made a baby today?” Even though he tried to ask it casually, as if it wasn’t something he craved and wanted somewhere deep in his heart, YN knew him better and heard the anxiety creeping up in his voice.

Turning around in his arms, she cupped his face and gently shrugged her shoulders. “Don’t know, love. Maybe. Maybe no’. It won't be the end of the world if I get my period next month. Would I be disappointed? Hell, definitely. Bu’ that’s part of the process. You know how long Emma and Jean had to try for a baby.” It still pained her to think about the long and painful journey of one of her best friends. And Harry knew that, so he only nodded and kissed YN’s forehead again. “We will get there, eventually. Someday, my period will be late, and we will take a test, and it will be positive. We just have to wait and be patient and leave that nasty bitch duo named anxiety and stress out in the rain. Okay?” Again, Harry nodded at that, a deep sigh leaving his body and his tense shoulders slowly relaxing. “Okay,” he whispered in agreement and kissed his woman tenderly, which soon turned into an unexpected new last round under the warm water of the shower.

***

Nervousness crept up on her as she continued to stare at the several at-home pregnancy tests she had made in the last three hours. It had been a struggle throughout because the instructions had been all in Japanese, and she most definitely didn’t speak that language. Even Google translator had been a constant pain in the ass, leaving her metaphorically standing in the rain. At least Jeff had been so kind and had helped her find someone in the team who could speak Japanese and who swore an oath to keep silent until YN could be sure about it.

“It’s too good to be true.”

That’s the sentence she mumbled to herself ever since realizing that her period had been late—incredibly so. And that’s usually not her thing, so the hope of a fucking miracle had spread its roots inside her and didn’t let go. In order to be alone, she even lied to Harry to get some uninterrupted hours to herself while he performed another wonderful show and was adored by all his fans. She knew it was stupid to lie to him instead of just coming clean about her suspicion, but… she just couldn’t do it. She didn’t want to get his hopes up, only to see them crushed when the tests all came back negative. It was enough that her hopes would get destroyed in a matter of seconds.

The alarm of the timer on her phone scared her almost to death, and after taking a deep breath to steady her shaking hands, YN stretched them out towards the lid of the toilet in front of which she sat crossed-leg. She hadn’t moved since she had started taking them one after the other, and not a single one was turned over.

“You bloody headless chicken. Do it.”

And with that last bit of self-esteem she somehow owned, YN started to turn them all over, one after the other, without taking a closer look at the several displays. Only after another deep breath, to keep the nauseous feeling in check, did she glance from one test to the other, remembering what one of the assistant stylists had told her about the different result displays.

In the first few seconds, shock settled in her body, freezing her on that stupid spot on the bathroom floor. Her heartbeat picked up, and she heard every single beat in her ears, the blood rushing through her veins. Instinctively, a hand had made its way to her stomach, covered by one of Harry’s Pleasing hoodies he had worn during their shared breakfast and which smelled like him. It had kept her sane and safe and comforted in the past hours, filled with anxiety and stupid hopes.

The sound of an opening door brought life back into YN, and with a scream, she jumped up, grabbed a handful of tests, and hurried over into the suite. Harry was already on his way towards the bathroom after he had heard the sound, worry on his face, and they almost collided in the middle of the room, his hands the only thing that kept her from tumbling to the ground.

“What’s wrong, love? You still feeling sick? Has it gotten worse? I should’ve taken you to the doctor’s this morning already instead of listening to you and keeping you alone here, fuck—“ But he stopped himself as YN held up several white-pinkish and white-bluish sticks, seeing her teary eyes, taking in her flushed cheeks. So, he scanned them but didn’t understand a single word written on them, furrowing his brows. His head only slowly caught up to it, and with a whispered, unbelieving No, he cupped her cheeks with both hands, staring into her wide eyes with a similar expression.

“Is this real? Is this really happening? Does it mean what I think it does?” He got several nods as answers, and still, he couldn’t believe this luck, this bliss.

He had been anxious all day long, first because YN had told him she didn’t feel quite well and would sit out tonight’s show and then because he had taken a glance into the cycle tracker, realizing that she hadn’t had entered her first day of period almost a week ago. Of course, he had gotten his hopes up, especially after Jeff had been weird all night long, and now, his hopes wouldn’t be crushed? It took a while to get this knowledge into his brain, a bit too long for YN’s liking, because she started fidgeting on the spot.

“I’m sorry if this isn’t how you thought it would be, and maybe you now think it’s way too early and that we should’ve waited, or that I should have made a big announcement thing out of it or—“

YN didn’t end her anxious rambling because Harry gripped her waist and lifted her off the ground, pressing her against him. Out of surprise, she let the pregnancy tests tumble down onto the hotel room floor and wrapped both arms around his neck, feeling how the happy tears slowly trickled down her cheeks. Harry grinned widely, tears of his own in his eyes, and spun them around, laughing and crying, breathless from excitement and utter joy. “We’re gonna be parents!” He shouted it through the suite, the people walking past the door probably hearing every single word, and YN couldn’t contain the laugh bubbling out of her any longer.

Cradling her face in both his hands after he had put her back down, Harry stared into her eyes with astonishment and mild wonder. “We will really be parents,” he whispered and covered her face in kisses. “Thank you. Thank you so much. You’re incredible, my love. I love you so much,” he continued and made YN cry even more—from happiness and joy. “It’s only possible because of you, H. Because you chose me and decided to spend the rest of your life with me and make me the bloody happiest woman on earth.” With a smile, she wiped off the tears off her cheeks, and Harry erased the remnants with his tenderly stroking thumb. “We will raise wonderful children because they’ll have you as their dad, H, and I can’t wait for it.” He smiled down at her and pecked the tip of her nose. “Don’t forget yourself, darlin’. You’re this incredibly strong woman, always fighting for what’s right. Our children won’t have anything to fear.” Softly, he nudged her chin lovingly and kissed her smiling lips before suddenly dropping down to his knees and getting a hold of YN’s hips.

She watched him intently, one hand covering one of his on her hip and the other slowly and tenderly running through his silky locks. But then, her hand stilled in its tracks as Harry bent forward to press slow kisses all over her lower abdomen and took his time with it. “Hey there, little baby,” he mumbled against the fabric of the hoodie, continuing to kiss YN’s stomach. “It’s your dad, but you can call me whatever you want. Your mom and I are incredibly thankful that you’re with us now, and we’ll love you to the moon and back. Just… please, be gentle to your mommy, can you promise me tha’? She’s this wonderful and strong woman, and I know that she’ll handle anything like a champ, but I don’t want her to suffer too much. Can we agree on tha’, sunshine? Yeah? Perfect. Love you so much.” That little monologue was followed by another kiss, leaving YN speechless and stunned, and she only could let the tears spill out of her eyes, watching him as Harry stood up again. “You’re too good for this world, H,” she whispered between two sobs and let him envelop her with his body, feeling its warmth seeping into her, calming her. “Nah. ‘m just that dude who is entirely whipped for his soon-to-be wife who just gifted him the best present of a lifetime,” he grinned down at her and let her wrap both arms tightly around his waist. “Gosh, don’t remind me of the hassle of finding you good enough birthday gifts now.”

A chuckle left them both before YN looked up at Harry as he hummed. “Wanna take a bath together? I could use some time with that gorgeous woman who’s obviously stupid enough to marry me.” Giggling, the woman nodded. “The stupid woman would love that, but we have to tidy up some… stuff first.” Following Harry with slower steps, YN watched him as he took in the chaos still dominating the bathroom floor, with several ripped-open test boxes and instructions lying all over the place. He turned and cocked a brow in question. “How many of these did you do, woman?” Shrugging, YN stepped closer and picked up the first few boxes to throw them away. “About seventeen? I’m not sure anymore because I think I wasn’t entirely there. With my head, I mean. I may have spiraled a bit while I sat here and drank one bottle of water after the other.” She heard him laugh softly under his breath before getting a hold of the paper and cardboard in her hand and dumping them back onto the floor. “Silly woman.” Kissing her, he turned the faucet of the bathtub open and started to pull the hoodie over YN’s head. “Forget about these. I’ll do that later. Now, I want to have a nice bath with my baby momma.”

***

The end sucks (probably like the entire rest), but here it is! I hope y’all liked it at least a bit, and as usual: Reblogs, comments, and likes are much appreciated

[sturn-wrld]

🏮christmas gift

pairing: chris x reader

summary: where chris buys reader a christmas present that is great for the both of them

genre: SMUT!!! if that makes you uncomfortable dni! warnings: unprotected sex (before you get silly, wrap that willy), nicknames (babe, baby, ma, mamas)

a/n: last day of smutmas. i actually really like this. i have no idea what i'm going mg to write now but i'm thinking a little more fluff. happy holidays to everyone no matter what you celebrate 🫶

masterlist

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you open your eyes, adjusting them to the bright sunlight by beaming through large window infrared front of the bed you and your boyfriend, chris currently occupy. the realise hits, it's christmas.

you had loved christmas for your whole life. you didn't know what it was about christmas that you liked so much because very year it changed. when you were five it was opening presents. when you were ten it was the music. when you were fifteen it was gifting presents. but now as a twenty year old it was a mixture of all it, plus the time you can spend with loved ones around you.

you look down to your beautiful boyfriend, laying on your chest and slowly start shaking him. "baby, it's christmas" you cooed not wanting to abruptly wake him. "five more minutes ma" you looked at him rubbing his face deeper into your chest as he fights away the waking up sensation and give in. "okay. five more minutes" after what seemed forever you finally woke him up. "okay it's been five minutes, wake up now. it's christmas" you said emphasising the fact that it's christmas. "alright let's wake up the other two then" chris stated trying to rid the sleep from his eyes.

as you both clawed your way put of bed there was a sudden bang at the door followed by nick and matt slamming their ways into the room. "WAKE UP ITS CHRISTMASSS!" nick said definitely more excited than the other people in the room. you smiled in response turning to chris, "told you to wake up" chris just chuckled as he slowly trudged out of the room. "what a grouch" nick said snarling at him "i know right" you added standing next to him.

as you made your way up the stairs towards the living room area followed by nick and matt, chris was sat on the couch with a. sudden change of demeanour. "let's open presents" nick said excitedly walking towards the sparkling tree in the corner.

as you all finished all the gifts from each other, you split your seperate ways to move presents into designated rooms and clean the house before guests started arriving for the day. as you and chris walked into your shared bedroom, he walked straight to the wardrobe pulling another gift from under a pile of laundry sitting in the closet. "what's this?" you asked walking towards and starting to play with the blue bow tied around the red paper. "it's for you. open it." he said moving to the bed sitting and placing it on your lap. as you ripped open the paper you noticed a familiar pink stripped box. once the box was bare you read the logo guessing what it could be. "victoria's secret" you said looking to your boyfriend, who was smiling so wide. "open it" he said prompting to the box. you lifted the top of the box to reveal a lingerie set. one you had been looking to buy for a while. "thank you baby" you said looking to chris kissing him on the cheek, picking up the lacey piece. "do you want to go try it on?" he said biting his lip, you nodding and moving to the bathroom to change.

you observed yourself in the mirror feeling the lace under your fingertips. "i'm done" you called from the bathroom, your boyfriend on the other side of the door waiting for you to walk out. "show me mamas" he instructed you walking out as he finished his words. his jaw dropped to the floor. "you like it?" you asked travelling your hands up your thighs and walking towards chris as he stood. "like it? i love it. it looks so much better than what i could imagine" he said gripping your waist looking you up and down. "your thighs look so nice and your boobs. don't get me started on your boobs" he blabbered out, causing a giggle to escape your lips.

he looked at your lips and then your eyes, licking his lips. you then leaned into him starting to kiss soft kisses to his lips. with that chris deepened the kiss, causing you to lightly moan into his mouth as he sat down pulling you onto his lap. he started kissing down down your jaw and neck as you felt him become harder under his sweatpants. as he marked your lower neck and chest you started grinding on his now tight sweatpants needing more friction. he traveled his hands from your ass up to the back of your bra unclipping it and throwing it somewhere you didn't care about in this moment. he started massaging your tits as you grind harder against him. he lifted you slightly, now able to slip his pants down revealing his hard cock, slapping against his stomach. he slowly starts traveling his hands down from your boobs back towards your ass and aching core. he starts slipping his fingers through your dripping wetness. "your so wet mamas" he said as you start releasing whining moans. "all for you baby" you said whipping your head back moaning at his movements.

suddenly he slams his fingers into you, stretching your tight hole, rubbing your clit with his other hand. "i need you to fuck me baby" you said whining for him. "anything for you my baby" he said flipping mg you over so you were now below him. he runs his tip down your folds before slamming himself into you causing you to both moan at the feeling. "oh fuck mamas your so tight" he said continuously pounding you at an animalistic pace. "holy shit baby i'm already so close" you said the pleasure building in your stomach. "play with yourself for me ma" he said wanting to push you towards your finish as fast as he was arriving. you starting toying with your clit the pleasure already becoming too much. "i'm going to come baby" you said as he started pounding deeper into you chasing his high "me too" he said as you let go riding out your high. he piled out before he came, continuing the motions with his hand as he came all over your stomach and chest.

he flipped himself down next to you, huffing and puffing.

"that was probably the best christmas gift ever"

taglist

@ermdontmindthisaccount @frozenvegitableoil @its-jennarose @ilovemattsturn

[lucywritesagain]

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Last updated: August 8th 2024 Navigation

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟SERIES◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

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Loki’s first Christmas

Creating a family: You and Loki are trying to have a baby, but it’s harder than it seems.

Ordinary Life for an Ordinary Prince : As a former prince of Asgard it is hard for Loki to adjust to his new lifestyle which consists of working and being tired all the time. Thankfully, you are there to make things better.

Forever?: You and Loki have been together for two years. Are you willing to make it forever?

Kintsugi: Every scar has a story, but does it mean you should hate them?

Exquisite: When your insecurities show up Loki is there to remind you of your beauty

Please forgive me:Loki wants to keep you safe but you don’t like their methods

Welcome to Asgard: You visit Asgard and meet Frigga who quickly notices the way Loki looks at you

True colors: As a healer your job was to take care of the staff in the palace but when the younger prince comes to you in the middle of the night a secret is revealed and bad choices are made.

Best friends fur-ever: Loki brings home a tiny cat who quickly steals both of your hearts

Jackie and Wilson: Loki used to hate Midgardians but something changed when he met you

Silent love confessions: Loki says something they didn’t mean for you to hear.

Ace of hearts:  Loki invited you to her apartment to celebrate the day of love, hoping to take your relationship to the next level but your date went in a different direction.

Querencia:  After months of hard work you have finally achieved what you dreamed of. Loki is happy because of your success but how do you explain a god that you don’t quite share the enthusiasm?

The only one that matters: It’s a party at the tower and Loki can’t help but to feel insecure about your relatiomship with them.

New year, new love: Your boyfriend left you for another woman but Loki is there to pick up the broken pieces. During that time your crush on the god becomes something more but your own insecurities won’t let you make the first move.

While I breathe, I hope: You were sent on a mission with Loki as your partner but things didn’t go as planned.

Battlescars: Loki knocks on your door, bringing with him a sense of urgency. Something has gone wrong. What is it? How do you handle it? Is Loki coming to you first, or are you the last resort.

The beginning of something great: You and Loki celebrate the god’s birthday and you have a very important question to ask them

A lesson in ice skating:  We have read so many times about Loki teaching the Reader how to ice skate but what if this time it’t the god of mischief himself needs help. In other words you take Loki ice skating and it resolves in, well, you will need to read it to find out <insert wink face>

Halloween: Loki agreed to go trick or treating with Peter and finally starts to believe he deserves to be called a hero

Broken mirrors: During one of his depressive episodes Loki wonders if someone like him would ever be worthy of you. Will your love be enough to keep him alive?

My Silly Midgardian:  Loki’s friend/crush has the flu. Loki having no knowledge  about midgardian diseases panics and tries his best to make her feel better.

Sunflower: Loki couldn’t understand what was so spacial about sunflowers. Why you found them so beautiful and magestic. After all it was just a plant, wasn’t it?

The one with the pillow fort and lovestruck God:  You and Loki decided to build a pillow fort

Could a human love a monster :  Loki is again in a spirale of negative thoughts but can your feeling for him change the way he sees himself

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Coffee scented love: After a long day at work you come home to your favourite trickster

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[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Sebastian's Offer (AKA Demand) | Sebastian Sallow x OC #13

buckle up this is a long INCREDIBLY TOOTHROTTING FLUFFY ONE.

Summary: Hogwarts empties for the winter holiday, Evangeline finds herself spending Christmas at Sebastian’s cozy cottage in Feldcroft after he surprises her, insisting she shouldn’t be alone. Their time together is filled with simple joys—exploring the snow-covered village, exchanging thoughtful gifts, and sharing quiet moments by the fire as they each struggle to keep their growing feelings in check.

Words: 12,922

Tags: FLUFF. BIG TIME FLUFF. Slow Burn, Friends To Lovers, Christmas, Romance, Soft Moments, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love

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The bustling halls of Hogwarts had grown quiet, a peaceful stillness settling over the decorated common rooms and candlelit corridors as most students left for the holidays. Only a few remained, their footsteps faint echoes in the castle’s vast, snow-dusted expanse. Ominis had departed for London to spend the holiday with Anne, Sebastian had returned to Feldcroft, and Lysander had left early that morning.

For Evangeline, saying goodbye to her boyfriend should have been a moment to savor—a culmination of the closeness they’d been building over the past months. The night before, he’d surprised her, guiding her up the winding staircases to the Astronomy Tower for a private exchange of Christmas gifts under the stars.

She’d climbed the final stairs to find a picnic blanket spread across the stone floor, flanked by candles glowing warmly in the dark. A basket waited, filled with sweets and cocoa, and the faintly twinkling stars above cast a gentle light over them. The whole setup had been undeniably thoughtful, even romantic in its intention, and she’d felt a flutter of gratitude at the effort he’d put into planning it.

They’d settled in together, sharing quiet laughter and the soft clinks of cocoa mugs in the chilly air. Evangeline had given him her gift, a carefully selected book on magical creatures that she knew he’d wanted, and he’d thanked her warmly, brushing his fingers against hers in a soft, unhurried gesture before reaching for his own gift to her.

“Open it,” he’d said with an eager smile as he passed her the elegantly wrapped package. She’d carefully peeled back the layers of paper, revealing an ornate, glimmering necklace resting within a velvet-lined box. It was a beautiful, extravagant piece that sparkled with intricate stones and delicate, twisted chains.

“Oh, it’s…wow,” she’d murmured, running her fingers over the gemstones. It was dazzling, but so far from her style that it almost felt like someone else’s necklace entirely. She tried to imagine wearing it, the heavy gleam of the stones catching the light, but it felt too bold, too ornate.

Lysander’s eyes had shone with satisfaction, clearly pleased with himself. “I knew it was perfect for you the moment I saw it,” he’d said, leaning in to press a warm, brief kiss to her cheek.

She’d smiled back, the gratitude sincere, though there was a strange twist in her heart as she admired it. It was an undeniably generous gift, and she didn’t want to seem unappreciative. But try as she might, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the necklace was a little too extravagant, almost gaudy, for her taste. She wore jewelry sparingly, preferring simpler, understated pieces, and this necklace—stunning as it was—felt almost like it was meant for someone else.

Still, she’d thanked him, appreciating it nonetheless. This was a gesture of his affection, after all, and she chided herself for her own sense of dissatisfaction, for not simply being grateful for his thoughtfulness. Surely she could get used to it, she’d told herself, even enjoy the grandeur of it over time.

After the picnic, he’d walked her back to the Gryffindor Tower, his arm around her waist as they strolled through the emptying castle, her gift clasped carefully in her hands. When they reached the portrait hole, he had kissed her goodnight, the familiar warmth of his lips against hers a soft, reassuring presence. He’d whispered goodbye with a warm smile, his fingers grazing her cheek, “Have a lovely Christmas, Evangeline. I’ll be thinking of you.”

The moment should have left her glowing with contentment, the perfect close to their budding romance. But as she watched him walk away, a faint ache gnawed at her heart, an uneasy feeling she couldn’t ignore. Her mind drifted, unbidden, to memories of the Ball, of Sebastian’s steady hand in hers, his eyes searching hers as they’d danced.

It was wrong, she knew, to linger on thoughts of someone else while Lysander had gone to such lengths to make the night special. And yet, that ache lingered, that same gnawing, confusing pull toward thoughts of Sebastian that she couldn’t quite push away.

And this morning, while Evangeline sat on one of the plush couches, the last few students trickled out of the Gryffindor common room and the castle settled into its winter quiet. In the silence, she told herself she’d be fine spending Christmas alone, that she’d stay busy. She had plenty to do, after all—a Potions project to finish, a stack of library books waiting by her bed, and, tucked away in the bottom of her satchel, a book she’d impulsively bought on her last visit to Hogsmeade.... One of those intimacy books Sebastian had told her was stocked at Tomes and Scrolls.

The memory of that day in the bookstore came back to her vividly. She’d slipped inside, praying she wouldn’t be noticed by anyone she knew. Her face had burned as she’d picked up the thin, nondescript book, thumbing through its pages just long enough to confirm it was indeed filled with all the “detailed” advice Sebastian had hinted at. She hadn’t dared meet the shopkeeper’s eye as she’d purchased it, her cheeks hot as she mumbled a thank you and stuffed the book into her bag. She’d tucked it away when she got back to the castle, unable to summon the nerve to actually open it.

But now, with the castle empty and her only company a restless feeling she couldn’t shake, the book seemed like a good distraction—something she could read without interruption, maybe something to satisfy her curiosity. Taking a steadying breath, she reached into her satchel and pulled it out, the cover plain and unassuming. The title was innocent enough, “Intimacies and Affections: A Guide to Healthy Romances.” She ran her fingers over the smooth cover, her heart beating a little faster. Even though no one was around, she still felt self-conscious, as though someone might walk in at any moment and catch her.

Steeling herself, she wrapped herself up in blankets, stretching her toes towards the fire. She stared at the book for a long moment, and part of her was worried about what she’d find—if it would be embarrassing, if she’d feel foolish for wanting to understand more about things people like Sebastian seemed to know so effortlessly.

She was about to turn the first page when a loud banging sounded at the portrait hole.

She froze, her fingers gripping the edges of the book tightly. The banging continued, loud and insistent, echoing through the empty common room. Her heart leaped, and she quickly stashed the book behind a cushion, her face flushing as though someone had caught her red-handed.

The banging grew louder. Whoever it was wasn’t about to give up.

With a quick glance at the hidden book, she took a deep breath and crossed the room, pulling open the portrait hole. She hadn’t expected anyone she knew, least of all Sebastian Sallow, to be standing on the other side.

His face lit up the moment he saw her, shaking snow from his hair and his coat, his eyes glinting with a determination that almost startled her. “Evie,” he began, his voice a mix of insistence and a rare softness, “you’re not spending Christmas alone in this drafty tower. Pack a bag.”

She blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “What? Sebastian, what are you doing here? I thought you went home?"

He crossed his arms, a determined glint in his eye. “I came back to get you, Sterling. You’re not staying here alone.” His tone softened, though the conviction remained. “Come to Feldcroft with me.”

The sincerity in his voice, the way he looked at her, took her by surprise. Her stomach twisted in a way that felt all too familiar. “Sebastian, I… I appreciate it, really, but I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Lysander…”

“Lysander’s gone home for the holidays, isn’t he?” Sebastian’s gaze didn’t waver. “It’s just Christmas with a friend. No harm in that.”

She hesitated, glancing over his shoulder as though searching for an excuse, but found none. The castle was empty, the quiet pressing in around them, and the thought of spending Christmas without anyone made her heart sink. And despite the conflict churning inside her, Sebastian’s warmth and the earnestness in his eyes made it hard to refuse.

“Come on, Evie,” he murmured, his voice softening, almost pleading. “It’s Christmas."

His gentle insistence broke down her resistance. She knew there was no way she could truly say no—not to Sebastian, and not when he was standing there, offering her a holiday break that was more than just her and a stack of unread books.

With a quiet sigh, she nodded, her heart pounding. “Alright. I’ll go pack.”

She turned to leave, letting the portrait swing behind her, but Sebastian called after her, leaning casually against the edge of the opening. “Are you really going to leave me standing out here, Evie? Do you need me to admit that I’ve always wanted to see the legendary Gryffindor common room?”

She paused, turning to give him an amused, slightly exasperated look. “Sebastian, I’m pretty sure you know that’s against every rule we have.”

He shrugged, unfazed. “Rules, schmules. The way I see it, if they didn’t want Slytherins sneaking in, they should've made it harder to find the entrance,” he said, smirking. “Come on, you Gryffindors are always bragging about how cozy it is. I think it’s time I get a look for myself.”

She rolled her eyes, suppressing a smile, but stepped aside to let him through. “Fine. But if you tell anyone I let you in here, I'll hex you into next year."

Sebastian’s grin widened, clearly thrilled by her concession. “I’ll take that risk,” he said, stepping inside with the same casual confidence that seemed to accompany him everywhere.

The warmth of the Gryffindor common room enveloped him immediately, a stark contrast to the cooler, shadowed ambiance of the Slytherin dungeons. The fire crackled cheerfully in the hearth, casting a soft, golden light over the plush armchairs, the scarlet-and-gold tapestries, and the mistletoe that had been charmed to float just above the fireplace.

“Not bad at all,” he murmured appreciatively, his voice softened with something almost reverent. “It’s… different up here.”

Evangeline watched him with a mix of amusement and curiosity. She couldn't deny she quite liked seeing him in her world, here among the soft glow and rich colours that had become as much a part of her as her own heartbeat. She found herself smiling, despite herself, at the sight.

Sebastian caught her gaze, “What?”

She crossed her arms over her chest, chuckling, “It’s just… unusual, seeing you in here."

His smirk deepened as he moved closer, letting his fingers trail over the arm of a red armchair, as if savoring its plushness. "It's definitely a change from the Slytherin common room, but I admit, there’s something very cozy about it. It suits you.”

She felt a warmth rise to her cheeks at his words, brushing it off with a playful scoff. “Now you’re just trying to charm me. Be careful, or you’ll start thinking you actually like it here.”

He laughed, glancing around with a look that was almost fond. “Maybe I do. You Gryffindors might be onto something with all this… red and gold,” he admitted, “Certainly feels a lot more alive than the dungeons. But anyway, enough stalling, Evie. Go on—pack your things."

Evangeline chuckled, a warmth spreading through her at the teasing authority in his voice. With a playful eye-roll, she turned and hurried up the stairs to the dorms, her heart beating faster than it should as she grabbed her travel trunk and hurriedly tossed in clothes and essentials, too aware that Sebastian was still waiting below.

In record time, she was back down the stairs, breathless as she maneuvered her trunk into the common room. But she stopped short, her heart dropping as she took in the sight before her.

Sebastian was sitting comfortably on one of the couches by the fire, legs stretched out and posture relaxed, with her book resting in his hands. His brow was raised, lips twitching with the beginnings of a smirk, and his eyes danced with unmistakable mischief as he looked up at her.

Mortification spread through her, her face flushing hot. “Sebastian!” she sputtered, rushing over and snatching the book from his hands. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He bit back a laugh, holding his hands up defensively. “Just reading the dedication page. Didn’t think you went in for this sort of literature.”

She hugged the book tightly to her chest, her eyes narrowing in embarrassed exasperation. “I can’t believe you—do you know how rude that is?”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, "I'm the one who told you these books existed in the first place, Evangeline." he said, her name rolling off his tongue with a kind of playful insistence that made her stomach flip.

He rarely ever used her full name—only when he was either trying to make a point or when he was deadly serious. Each time he did, it sent her heart into a confusing tailspin, as if he was reaching past her defenses to tug on something deeper. Now was no different; hearing Evangeline instead of the casual Evie threw her off balance, adding to her already burning embarrassment.

Her cheeks warmed, and she struggled to hold her ground, clutching the book tightly to her chest as if it might shield her from his gaze. “That doesn’t give you permission to just pick it up and read it,” she replied, her voice coming out higher than she’d intended. “It’s private.”

Sebastian’s expression softened, the smirk fading into something almost understanding, though the humour remained in his eyes. “Alright, alright,” he conceded, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I get it—private. But you know,” he added with a grin, “I’m actually impressed. Didn't think you'd be brave enough to buy it.”

Her cheeks burned even hotter, and she fumbled for a response, her thoughts scattered. “Sebastian Sallow,” she muttered, trying to keep her voice steady, “if you ever bring this up again, I’ll—”

“—hex me into next year, yeah, I know.” He chuckled, leaning back against the couch with a satisfied grin.

Her heart did another strange flip, but she fought to ignore it, shooting him an exasperated look instead. “Enough of that. Are we going or not?”

With one last, unrepentant grin, Sebastian stood and grabbed her trunk, his hand brushing hers briefly as he hoisted it up. “Of course we’re going. As long as I'm around, you'll never spend another Christmas alone.”

As they stepped out of the Gryffindor common room and into the quiet, candlelit corridor, Evangeline let herself breathe a little easier, her cheeks cooling as the familiar, teasing banter with Sebastian settled into a comfortable silence. He kept her trunk balanced effortlessly, his stride purposeful as he led her toward the nearest Floo connection, his quiet confidence making her stomach flutter despite herself.

They reached the nearest fireplace, and he extended a hand, gesturing for her to go first with a slight smile. “Ladies first,” he said, his voice warm and steady, as if they weren’t about to make an impromptu trip halfway across the country.

With a soft laugh, she tossed the powder into the flames, calling out, “Feldcroft!” She stepped in and felt the familiar rush of spinning green flames before stumbling onto a cobbled street in the little village. The chilly winter air greeted her, and she wrapped her cloak tighter around herself, glancing around.

To her surprise, the usually quiet village had taken on a festive charm for the holiday. Garlands hung between the street lamps, twinkling softly with enchanted lights, and small wreaths decorated the shop doors. The air smelled faintly of pine and something sweet, perhaps from a nearby bakery. It was simple but charming, and a smile crept over her face as she took it all in.

Sebastian appeared beside her in a swirl of green flame, and he noticed her smile, a hint of pride flickering in his eyes. “Nice, isn’t it? The locals put in a bit more effort around Christmas,” he said, glancing around.

Evangeline nodded, genuinely touched by the quaint scene. “It’s lovely. A bit different from Hogsmeade’s bustle, but it suits the place.”

Sebastian returned her smile, then nodded toward the familiar little cottage he called home. “Come on,” he said, his tone softening.

As they approached, Evangeline’s eyes drifted over the cottage. It looked to be in better shape than she remembered from her last visit. The old stone walls seemed newly cleaned, the windows freshly painted, and a soft glow emanated from within. She couldn’t help but feel a flicker of admiration—Sebastian had clearly put effort into maintaining it, something she hadn’t been sure he’d do.

“Have you been keeping it up on your own?” she asked, glancing over at him.

Sebastian shrugged, a casual smile tugging at his lips. “Well, it’s mine now. Didn’t see much point in letting it fall apart.”

Her heart warmed, a surge of affection rising in her chest as she looked at him. “You’ve done a wonderful job.”

He held her gaze a moment longer than necessary, his smile softening. After a moment of fishing out a key and fiddling with the lock, he pushed the door open and stepped back to let Evangeline enter first.

She crossed the threshold, and the sight that greeted her left her momentarily speechless. The once-small, simple interior had been magically expanded, and a warmth filled the space as though it had been expecting her. What had once been a cramped sitting room was now a cozy yet spacious area with a wide hearth crackling with a welcoming fire, casting a golden glow over plush sofas and thick rugs in deep, warm tones. Strings of garlands and holly adorned the walls, twinkling with soft lights, and a small Christmas tree sat in the corner, decorated simply but beautifully with sparkling ornaments and a silver star on top.

She turned to look at him, her eyes wide. Sebastian grinned, clearly pleased with her reaction, "You like it?"

She stepped further into the room, taking in the small, thoughtful details—the knitted blankets on the back of the couches, the set of mugs by the hearth, and the scent of pine mingling with the faintest hint of something sweet, maybe mulled cider.

"Like it?" She laughed, her voice filled with genuine delight as she spun around to take it all in. "Sebastian, I love it. It’s perfect. When did you do all this?!"

He rubbed the back of his neck, his grin softening into something almost bashful as he watched her take everything in. “Well, yesterday. I wanted to get it done before I brought you over."

She looked at him, her eyes bright with a mixture of admiration and disbelief. “You did all of this just for… me?”

Sebastian’s gaze softened, and he shrugged, though she could tell by the faint color rising to his cheeks that he was genuinely touched by her reaction. “Well, I couldn’t let you spend Christmas alone in that empty castle,” he replied, his voice quieter, more sincere than usual. “Besides… it’s not really Christmas here without some company.”

Her heart gave a little flutter. The room was beautiful, yes, but it was more than that—it was thoughtful, filled with small, intentional touches that felt warm and welcoming, like he’d crafted a space just for her.

“Well, I think you might be better at this Christmas thing than I am,” she teased gently, her voice laced with affection. “You’ve really outdone yourself, Sebastian.”

He let out a soft chuckle, his usual smirk tempered with something softer as he looked at her. “I’ll take the compliment… though I have to admit, seeing you this happy is already worth all the effort.” He glanced away briefly, almost as if he were embarrassed by his own words.

Evangeline’s smile lingered, and she took a step closer, feeling the pull between them as natural as the crackling fire beside them. “Thank you,” she said softly. “This really means a lot to me.”

For a moment, he looked as if he wanted to say something more, his gaze searching hers, but instead, he just held out his hand. “Come on. Make yourself comfortable. I have everything we need—including your favourite biscuits,” he added with a wink.

She laughed, slipping her hand into his, feeling the warmth of his touch spread through her. With a gentle squeeze, he led her to the armchairs by the fire, and she settled into the plush seat, savoring the comfort of the moment.

Sebastian returned moments later, a steaming mug of hot chocolate in each hand. He passed one to Evangeline, who took it gratefully, letting the warmth seep through her fingers. She inhaled, catching the faint hint of cinnamon mixed with chocolate, and smiled as she took her first sip, the rich sweetness flooding her senses.

“Just the way you like it,” he said with a satisfied grin, settling into the armchair across from her. He set down a small tin of her favourite biscuits on the table between them, the top half-open in a silent invitation.

Evangeline’s gaze drifted to the old, familiar chessboard on the side table, and Sebastian’s eyes followed hers, his grin widening. “Fancy a game?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “I seem to remember you’re quite terrible at Wizard’s Chess, but I’d be more than happy to teach you a thing or two.”

She narrowed her eyes, smirking. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you?”

“Well,” he replied, shrugging casually as he set up the board, “I did just transform my whole cottage to make you feel at home. I think I’ve earned a little self-congratulation.”

She shook her head, laughing, and took another sip of hot chocolate. “Fine, I accept the challenge. But don’t get too smug—I might surprise you.”

Sebastian snorted, setting his pieces in place as she mirrored him, and the game began. Within minutes, her poor strategy had led to her queen being unceremoniously smashed to pieces by one of his knights. Sebastian’s laughter filled the room, light and teasing as he rested his chin on his hand, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

He shook his head, laughing, “I did warn you, didn’t I?”

“Oh, don’t you start,” she huffed, glaring at her remaining pieces as though they’d betrayed her.

Despite her efforts to focus, she lost the first game in a matter of moves, much to Sebastian’s delight. And yet, she insisted they keep playing, his teasing grin never faltering. They played round after round, and although her skills didn’t miraculously improve, the warm, playful banter that filled the room was worth every crushing defeat.

Between games, they chatted about everything and nothing—school gossip, upcoming exams, and rumors of pranks planned by Leander and Garreth that had left half the Slytherins looking over their shoulders.

Hours passed, and the cottage grew darker, save for the flickering firelight. As the evening wore on, Evangeline grew more comfortable, tucking her feet under herself as she leaned back in her armchair, finishing the last of her hot chocolate.

Eventually, she sighed, eyeing the board as another one of her knights crumbled under his rook’s relentless attack. “I think I officially surrender,” she laughed, raising her hands in mock defeat. “There’s no coming back from that.”

Sebastian grinned, leaning back with a contented sigh. “Well, it only took you… what, ten games?” He reached for the biscuit tin, offering it to her.

“Ten games and far too many of my pieces sacrificed in battle,” she replied, accepting a biscuit and nibbling on it, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of playfulness and gratitude.

“So, tell me,” he said suddenly, adopting a mock-serious tone, “how much of that book have you actually read?”

Her cheeks flushed as she fumbled with her biscuit, nearly dropping it in her lap. “I—um—” she stammered, trying to downplay her interest.

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Didn’t seem like you’d gotten too far given how I found it. By the way, your hiding skills could use some work.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, feigning indignation. “Excuse me, how did you even find it in the first place?”

“Because,” he replied, his tone matter-of-fact. “The moment I walked into the common room, it was obvious where you’d been sitting—blankets thrown everywhere, that very you-shaped cocoon.” He chuckled, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “And then I spotted the book sticking out from the cushions.”

Evangeline groaned, covering her face with one hand.

“Oh, come on, Evie,” he teased, nudging her shoulder. “You can’t expect me to resist when it’s so… conveniently placed.”

“Curiosity?” She shook her head, her lips twisting into a smirk. “More like a complete lack of boundaries.”

“Boundaries are for strangers,” he replied smoothly, leaning a little closer, his voice lowering. “And we’re hardly strangers, are we?”

The warmth in his voice sent a shiver down her spine, but she forced herself to stay collected, giving him a mock-glare instead. “I’ll make sure to hide anything ‘private’ next time you’re around, then.”

Sebastian chuckled, leaning back with a look of pure, unrepentant amusement. “You can try, but I have a talent for uncovering secrets. Especially yours, Evie.”

Her face flushed, both at his words and the way he seemed to be enjoying this. She wished she could deny it, but he was right: he was far too good at reading her. His perceptiveness had always unnerved her, especially when it came with that sly grin and those knowing eyes that seemed to peel back every layer of her defenses.

“Fine,” she huffed, crossing her arms in an attempt to look stern, though she was sure the effect was undermined by the lingering smile she couldn’t quite suppress. “Maybe I’ll just start keeping my books locked up.”

“Oh, now where’s the fun in that?” Sebastian leaned in closer, the flickering firelight casting a warm glow over his face. “Besides, I already know what you’re reading. So… was it helpful? Any earth-shattering revelations?”

"I'd barely had the chance to open the cover before you were pounding on my common room door." She said, raising an eyebrow at him. "So any ‘earth-shattering revelations’ will have to wait until after you’re done dragging me around Feldcroft.”

Sebastian chuckled, leaning back with a look of mock disappointment. “Oh, the tragedy. Here I was, thinking you’d have all sorts of interesting theories to share. Guess I’ll just have to wait.”

“Well, if you hadn’t interrupted me, maybe I’d be a little more enlightened by now,” she shot back, folding her arms in mock indignation.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Interrupted? I was saving you from Christmas boredom.”

Sebastian raised his mug, savoring another sip of hot chocolate as he watched her with a glint of curiosity in his eyes. After a comfortable silence, he set his mug down and tilted his head thoughtfully, the firelight casting shadows across his face.

“So, did you and Lysander exchange gifts before he left?” he asked casually, though the way his eyes lingered on her hinted at something more than idle curiosity.

Evangeline’s smile faltered, and she attempted to look pleased as she nodded. “Oh, yes. We did… a little something up in the Astronomy Tower before he left.” She tried to keep her tone light, as if recounting a perfectly pleasant memory, but there was a hesitation she couldn’t quite mask.

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed, picking up on the subtle shift in her expression. “What did he give you?” he pressed, leaning forward with an intensity that was both endearing and a little unnerving.

She hesitated, feeling the warmth rise in her cheeks again. “Well… he gave me a necklace,” she said slowly, glancing away as if studying the intricacies of the room. “It's beautiful, really ornate, elegant—"

"You hate it," Sebastian interrupted, his tone matter-of-fact, though his eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and something else she couldn't place.

Evangeline’s mouth opened to protest, but the words faltered, and instead, she let out a reluctant laugh. “I don’t hate it,” she insisted, though even she could hear the weakness in her own voice. “It’s a lovely necklace. Just… a bit much. And maybe… not exactly what I would have picked for myself.”

Sebastian looked at her for a beat, his gaze steady, as though something had just clicked in his mind. Without a word, he pushed himself up from his chair, crossing to the small Christmas tree in the corner. He crouched down, reaching for a small box wrapped simply but neatly in red and gold, and then straightened, turning back toward her with a thoughtful expression.

Evangeline watched him, her curiosity piqued. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer immediately, just walked back to her and held out the box, “Might as well open it now.”

She glanced between him and the box, her heart beating a little faster. “Sebastian… what is this?”

“Just open it,” he said softly.

With a hesitant smile, she carefully unwrapped the box, peeling back the paper to reveal a plain black velvet case. She glanced up at him, a question in her eyes, but he just nodded, urging her to continue. Taking a steadying breath, she lifted the lid.

Inside was a simple gold necklace, delicate yet sturdy, with a small garnet pendant gleaming in the center. She reached out to trace the charm with her fingertips, her heart swelling with warmth as she took in the intricate yet unassuming design. She could tell at once that it was crafted with care—its simplicity made up for in the precise detailing around the edges of the pendant and the fine, golden links of the chain. It was the kind of piece she knew would feel right in any setting, a bit of elegance without the weight of grandeur. And it felt so personal, as though Sebastian had somehow managed to capture something essential about her and turn it into this gift.

She glanced up at him, her voice barely a whisper. “Sebastian… this is beautiful. You didn’t have to-"

“Don’t even finish that thought,” he interrupted softly, a faint smile curving his lips.

“But it looks… it must have been expensive,” she continued, her fingers still resting on the pendant, marveling at its perfect simplicity. “This isn’t just… a little something, Sebastian. This is…"

He shrugged, looking a bit bashful now, rubbing the back of his neck. “It just… it reminded me of you,” he admitted, his gaze steady, even as a faint color rose in his cheeks. “You don’t need anything over-the-top or flashy. And when I saw it… I just knew.”

“It’s perfect,” she whispered, looking down at the necklace again, touched beyond words. “Thank you, Sebastian. Truly.”

He shifted a bit, a softer smile replacing his usual grin. “I’m glad you like it.” After a pause, he reached forward, meeting her eyes. “May I?”

She blinked, realizing he was offering to put it on for her. She nodded, unable to speak, and turned slightly, lifting her hair to the side as he took the necklace from the box.

His hands brushed lightly against the back of her neck as he clasped it, sending a gentle warmth through her. When he finished, his fingers lingered just a second longer than necessary before he pulled away, and she turned back to face him, her fingers drifting to the pendant now resting just below her collarbone.

He took a step back, his eyes lingering on her as though committing the sight to memory. “Looks perfect on you,” he murmured, his voice low.

Evangeline’s mind raced, her thoughts spiraling as she touched the pendant lightly. This gift, from Sebastian of all people—her best friend, the one she’d been trying so hard to suppress feelings for—felt so achingly perfect that it was almost painful. The necklace was everything she hadn’t known she wanted, simple yet thoughtful, understated but full of meaning. And it hit her, uncomfortably, that this was a better, more personal gift than the one Lysander, her actual boyfriend, had given her.

She swallowed, the reality pressing in, mingling with the warmth of Sebastian’s gaze, and a flutter of guilt twisted in her chest. She shouldn’t be comparing them, shouldn’t be reading into what was surely just a gesture of friendship from Sebastian. But then, why did it feel so… significant?

In an effort to distract herself, she cleared her throat and managed a shaky smile, hoping he didn’t notice the slight tremor in her voice. “So, it’s only fair I return the favor, right?” she said, forcing a lightness into her tone as she moved toward her bag. “I have something for you, too… well, a few things, actually."

Sebastian’s brows lifted in surprise, a smile curving his lips. “You do?”

“Of course I do,” she replied, glancing back at him with a softer smile, grateful for the change in focus. “You didn’t think I’d come here empty-handed, did you? But don't get too excited, we're only spoiling one. gift”

She rummaged through her bag, pulling out a small bundle wrapped in emerald green paper and tied with a simple black ribbon. It was unassuming, not grand or flashy, but she’d spent ages thinking about what to get him this year. As she handed it to him, she caught herself holding her breath, anticipation prickling at the edges of her nerves.

Sebastian took the package, his expression softening as he glanced from the gift to her. “Should I be nervous?”

She laughed, feeling some of her tension dissolve. “I’d say no, but you’ll just have to open it to find out.”

Sebastian unwrapped the gift with an amused smirk, but as he lifted the lid of the small box inside, his brow furrowed. A simple, elegant compass rested there, its polished surface catching the light of the fire. Yet as he picked it up, he noticed something odd: the needle wasn’t pointing north—it was pointed directly toward Evangeline, steady and unwavering.

He tilted his head, glancing at her in mild confusion. “A compass? And it’s… pointed at you? Are you secretly magnetic or something, Sterling?”

She laughed, “Maybe the compass is just pointing to the center of the cottage.” She gave a nonchalant shrug, "It's enchanted."

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Enchanted how?”

“It’s charmed to always point toward wherever you feel safest or… most comfortable,” she explained, her voice softer now, a hint of nervousness slipping into her tone. “I thought it might come in handy if you’re ever… lost.”

Sebastian’s gaze flickered back to the compass, “So… it points towards home,” he murmured, his voice soft as he felt a faint, steady warmth spread through him. Of course, it was pointed directly at Evangeline. There was no need to question it, not really. But Merlin was he glad she brushed it off, chalking up the needle’s direction to the center of the cottage rather than toward her specifically.

She nodded, a little shy now. “Exactly. For… whenever you need it.”

Sebastian’s throat tightened, and he swallowed, the depth of the gift hitting him all at once. He closed his hand around the compass, and looked back at her, his eyes softening. “Evie… I don’t even know what to say. This is so thoughtful. Thank you.”

Evangeline’s cheeks flushed under the warmth of his gaze, and she quickly looked down, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Well,” she murmured, trying to sound casual, “I know how you get yourself into trouble, so it seemed… practical.”

Sebastian chuckled, the sound low and filled with something that almost felt like gratitude. “Practical, sure,” he replied, his voice gentle. “But more than that.” He thumbed over the compass once, the weight of it settling into his hand like it belonged there. “It’s… perfect, really.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the quiet filled only by the soft crackling of the fire. For once, Sebastian didn’t rush to fill the gap with humor or a smirk. Instead, he kept his eyes on the compass, a look of peacefulness crossing his face as he considered the small but meaningful charm she had placed in his hands.

The moment stretched, each of them acutely aware of the other, of the small but powerful significance of the gift between them. Then, with a soft smile, Evangeline gently nudged his shoulder, breaking the spell. “So, where's the guest room in this new-and-improved cottage?"

Sebastian blinked, his thoughtful expression breaking into a grin as he tucked the compass carefully into his pocket. “Ah, tired already are we?" He stood up, gesturing for her to follow him down the narrow hall. “Your room is this way,” he said, leading her to a small but cozy room on the left. “It’s nothing grand,” he added, opening the door to reveal a room with a neatly made bed and a small nightstand holding a softly glowing lamp. A window overlooked the snowy fields beyond, a view softened by a sheer, lacy curtain.

Evangeline stepped inside, taking it all in. The space felt warm, personal—he’d even left a few books on the nightstand, ones she recognized as her favorites. She turned to look at him, surprise and gratitude in her eyes. “My room?”

Sebastian leaned against the doorframe, his grin softening as he took in her reaction. “Well, I couldn’t let you spend Christmas feeling like a guest." He shrugged, attempting to play it off with his usual nonchalance, though she noticed the faint color rising to his cheeks. "You'll always have a home here, Evie."

She shook her head, swallowing the lump in her throat as she turned to him, her eyes bright. “Sebastian Sallow, who knew you had such a sentimental side?”

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck as he tried to appear unfazed. “Don’t go spreading it around, Sterling."

They shared a quiet smile, the moment stretching comfortably between them. The crackling fire in the distance, the gentle warmth of the room—it all made Evangeline feel like she’d been given something truly precious, far more than just a place to stay. It was a reminder of just how well he understood her, even the little things she often didn’t realize mattered.

“So, settled in?” he asked, breaking the silence with a softer tone. “Anything else you need?”

She shook her head, clutching the compass gently in her hand. “No… it’s perfect. Thank you, Sebastian.”

For a moment, he looked as though he wanted to say something more, his gaze lingering on her face. But instead, he nodded, giving her one last warm smile before he turned to go. “Well then, I’ll let you get settled. But I’ll be just down the hall if you need anything… or if you feel like getting thrashed in another game of Wizard’s Chess.”

As he left, she couldn’t help the smile that lingered, her fingers drifting down to the necklace resting against her chest.

~

The morning sunlight filtered through the soft lace curtain, spilling gentle warmth over Evangeline as she blinked awake. The room was peaceful, and the quiet of the cottage—so different from the lively bustle of the Gryffindor dormitories—made her feel as though she’d woken in some forgotten, secluded world. After a moment, she slipped from bed, careful not to make a sound as she pulled on a robe and crept into the hallway.

The cottage was still, and from the quiet, she knew Sebastian wasn’t awake yet. Not that it surprised her—she couldn’t recall the last time he’d risen before her. A faint smile crept over her face as she wandered through the cozy space, curiosity urging her to explore the changes he’d made to his home.

The hallway extended further than she remembered, leading to a new room she hadn’t noticed last night. She pushed the door open and was greeted by the sight of a neatly furnished guest room, with soft shades of blue and dark wood furniture. It was spacious yet personal, with familiar touches—like the old record player Ominis adored—that made it clear he’d designed the space specifically for his friend.

Her chest tightened, warmth blooming at the realization. Sebastian hadn’t just expanded the cottage for himself—he’d done it to create a home for those he cared about.

Continuing her quiet exploration, she discovered another newly added door that led to a small office. Inside, the desk was scattered with neatly organized notes, spare quills, and a book on advanced defensive magic that looked well-thumbed. She could practically picture Sebastian poring over it late into the night, always striving to outdo himself.

She wandered back down the hall, stopping when she reached the last closed door—Sebastian’s bedroom. The urge to peek in tugged at her, her hand hovering by the doorknob as her curiosity wrestled with her better judgment. It was just one look, she reasoned, but even as she thought it, a familiar pang of guilt twisted in her chest. She’d been so careful, trying to keep her feelings for him buried. Spending Christmas here was already pushing the boundaries, and she knew Lysander would be hurt if he ever found out. With a sigh, she took a step back from the door, scolding herself for even considering it.

She moved to the kitchen, eager to occupy her thoughts with something practical. As she surveyed the cabinets, she chuckled under her breath. For all his meticulous preparation, Sebastian had somehow forgotten to stock the basics. She’d seen a bakery on the way in yesterday and decided to make a quick trip. Pulling on her coat, she slipped out quietly and crossed the village square, the early morning air crisp and quiet.

The bakery was a charming little spot, its interior warm and inviting, with rows of freshly baked bread, pastries, and other morning treats on display. Evangeline breathed in the comforting scent, her eyes scanning over the assortment before settling on a loaf of crusty bread and a few sweet rolls. She couldn’t resist adding a couple of flaky pastries to the basket—knowing Sebastian would appreciate them.

As she moved toward the counter, she noticed shelves along the wall stocked with basic necessities: fresh eggs, small jars of jam, even a few pints of milk and bundles of herbs. She picked up a dozen eggs, milk, and a jar of strawberry preserves. Her basket quickly filled, she approached the shopkeeper, who offered her a warm smile as he wrapped each item in brown paper.

With her arms full of fresh supplies, she stepped back into the crisp morning air, a sense of contentment settling over her as she made her way back to the cottage. The quiet village, dressed in snow, felt like a scene from an old storybook, each step crunching softly beneath her feet as she followed the little path back.

When she reached the cottage, she nudged the door open with her shoulder, stepping inside to the warmth and soft crackle of the fire. She set her bounty on the counter, unwrapping the items and setting up a small workspace as quietly as she could. But, just as she cracked the first egg into a bowl, she heard soft footsteps behind her and turned to find Sebastian leaning in the doorway still wearing his pyjamas, his hair a tousled mess and a sleepy smirk on his face.

“Didn’t know you were planning to sneak off on me,” he murmured, his voice warm with a hint of amusement as he noticed the spread on the counter.

She smiled, pulling out a loaf of bread. “Well, it turns out that in your grand plans, you thought of everything except breakfast,” she teased.

Sebastian smirked, clearly unbothered. “I never said I was perfect,” he replied, pulling out a chair settling down at the dining room table. “But it seems you have everything under control.”

Evangeline rolled her eyes, amused as she cracked another egg into the bowl. “Lucky for you,” she replied, whisking the eggs with a bit more flair than necessary.

He chuckled, stretching his long legs out under the table, watching her with that lazy, satisfied grin she was far too accustomed to. “You know,” he said, his voice still thick with sleep, “I could get used to waking up like this."

Her heart skipped, and she quickly focused on the skillet, pouring in the eggs, though she couldn't stop herself from asking, "Waking up like what?"

Sebastian’s smirk faltered just a bit, realizing he’d nearly let slip more than he intended. He cleared his throat, sliding back in his chair and stretching as if suddenly fascinated by the cabinets. “Oh, you know,” he drawled, shifting his gaze to the kitchen counter, “waking up to the smell of breakfast. Speaking of, we’re missing a key ingredient: coffee.”

Evangeline raised an eyebrow as he headed for the kitchen counter, watching him rummage through the cabinets.

Moments later, he set two mugs on the table, a fragrant steam rising from the freshly brewed coffee. He settled back into his chair, his usual confidence restored as he watched her transfer the scrambled eggs and toast onto plates.

“Looks impressive,” he said, raising his mug in a sort of approving toast. "Didn't realize you were such a chef."

“Guess growing up in the muggle world had its benefits,” she replied with a grin as she placed his plate in front of him.

They ate while exchanging stories and laughter. He listened with genuine interest as she recounted memories of growing up, the small traditions and quirks of her world that always felt a bit different from life at Hogwarts. And she found herself caught up in his tales of the antics he and Ominis would get up to in the Slytherin common room, and their half-hearted schemes that sometimes ended with the two of them nursing their bruised egos.

Sebastian looked around the room, taking in the morning light filtering through the cottage windows, his gaze eventually drifting back to her. “So, what’s the plan for the day?”

“Well, since we’re officially in the middle of nowhere,” Evangeline began, setting down her knife and fork, “I thought we might venture out a bit, maybe see some of these haunted woods you mentioned last year. You wouldn’t be afraid, would you?”

“Afraid? Me?” He rolled his eyes, mock-offended. “Sterling, please. I’m practically the very picture of courage.”

“Oh, of course,” she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “A Slytherin known for his bravery.”

Sebastian grinned, clearly delighted. “But yes, I’ll take you up on that ghost hunt,” he said, "I'm surprised you remember me mentioning that."

Evangeline felt a small, knowing smile tug at her lips. “Of course, I remember. You went on about it for nearly an hour that day in the Three Broomsticks,” she said, looking over at him with a spark of amusement in her eyes. “You painted quite the picture—how you and Anne would sneak off into the woods, convinced you’d find something no one else had seen.”

Sebastian’s grin softened as he recalled the memory, leaning back in his chair. “I may have exaggerated a bit,” he admitted with a chuckle, “but in our defense, we really did think those woods were haunted. Every little sound felt like some dark creature lurking in the shadows.”

She laughed, picturing a younger, wide-eyed Sebastian creeping through the trees with Anne by his side. She could almost see it, the two of them finding excitement in the unknown, each noise adding to the thrill. There was a certain innocence in the way he told those stories—a rare glimpse of the boy he’d been before Hogwarts, before everything changed.

“And yet,” she continued, a mischievous look in her eyes, “I don’t remember you ever mentioning that you two actually found anything.”

Sebastian shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Perhaps we will today."

~

The days leading up to Christmas Eve drifted by in a quiet, comfortable rhythm, each one blurring gently into the next as Evangeline and Sebastian settled into an easy companionship. They filled their time with simple joys—wandering through Hogsmeade’s snow-dusted streets, taking the Floo into London to explore shops adorned with twinkling lights, and, on occasion, heading out into the Highlands for a bit of exploring.

And when they were back at the cottage, their days continued in that same, effortless cadence. She’d found herself brewing tea for both of them in the afternoons, adding cinnamon and a dash of milk because he liked it that way, while he’d taken to fetching wood for the hearth and setting it alight in the evenings, his face flickering in the warm glow as he joked about having a “natural talent” for lighting things on fire.

It was strange, she realized, how easily they’d fallen into a routine as if they’d been doing this for years. And the more time she spent with him, the harder it became to ignore the insistent tug in her heart. She could feel it with every small gesture, every look they shared across the room—she was falling, deeper than she had ever expected or wanted to. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to pull away, not even with the nagging guilt that occasionally pricked at her when thoughts of Lysander surfaced.

But whenever that guilt began to claw its way up, it was quickly brushed aside by the overwhelming sense of rightness she felt here, in this little world they’d created. She hadn’t missed Lysander, not really, and the realization was almost as startling as it was inevitable.

Christmas Eve arrived with a hushed, magical stillness, and that evening found the two of them curled up on the couch in front of the fire, noses buried in books, each lost in their own worlds yet entirely aware of the other’s presence. Outside, snow had just finished falling, casting a gentle white sheen over the world beyond the window.

Evangeline stretched out on the couch, her feet finding their way across Sebastian’s lap as he absentmindedly shifted to make room, neither of them needing to say anything as they settled in. She glanced over her book at him, watching the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the firelight casting warm shadows across his face.

And in that quiet, stolen moment, she felt the weight of everything settle over her—how deeply she cared for him, how easily they fit together, and how strange it felt to think about returning to Hogwarts, where everything would once again be complicated by the presence of others, by the reality of her relationship with Lysander, by the fact that she and Sebastian weren’t meant to be anything more than friends.

But here, with him, it was impossible to feel anything but a gentle, aching happiness.

Sebastian looked up then, catching her gaze. A soft smile curved his lips. “Getting bored?” he asked, his voice a gentle murmur that sent warmth curling through her.

She returned his smile, shifting her feet slightly as if that could somehow diffuse the tension that had thickened between them.

“Not at all,” she replied, her voice softer than she intended. “Just… thinking.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, setting his book aside as his gaze softened. “Dangerous business, that. What’s on your mind?”

She hesitated, glancing away for a moment, but there was something about the quiet warmth of the cottage, the way he looked at her, that made her want to answer honestly. “Just… how easy all of this feels,” she admitted, gesturing to the cozy scene around them. "Six months ago, I wouldn't have thought this possible."

Sebastian’s expression softened, his gaze searching her face as he absorbed her words. “Six months ago, I wouldn’t have thought so either,” he admitted quietly. His voice was steady, but there was an underlying vulnerability that she wasn’t used to hearing from him. “Feels strange, doesn’t it? How everything changes and yet… some things feel like they’re exactly where they’re meant to be.”

Her heart beat a little faster, her eyes meeting his as his words lingered in the quiet. “Yeah,” she murmured, feeling a warmth settle in her chest. “Exactly like that.���

Sebastian glanced toward the window, his gaze shifting to the faint starlight peeking through the frost-lined glass. A small smile crept onto his face, thoughtful and a little mischievous. “How about a walk?” he suggested, his voice light. “The sky’s clearing up—maybe we could get a proper look at the stars.”

Evangeline’s eyes lit up, but she hesitated, glancing down at her feet. “I’d love to, but my last pair of dry socks got soaked this morning.” She shrugged, chuckling softly.

Sebastian’s grin widened as he rose from the couch, brushing off her concern with a dismissive wave. “Lucky for you, I have plenty of socks to spare.”

He disappeared down the hall, returning a moment later with a thick, woolen pair in hand. “Here,” he said, holding them out to her. “They'll be a little big, since you've got fairy-sized feet, but they’ll keep your feet warm.”

Evangeline took them, her fingers brushing his as she did. “Thanks,” she murmured, slipping them on and feeling the cozy warmth spread through her toes. They were indeed oversized, but somehow that only made them more comfortable, as if she were taking a small piece of his warmth with her.

Once they were bundled in coats and mittens, they stepped out into the crisp night. Snow blanketed the ground, a fresh layer glistening under the silver light of the moon. The world felt hushed, as though all of nature was holding its breath, and the stars overhead shone with a fierce clarity, illuminating the sky in a way that made her heart ache with wonder.

They walked side by side down a winding path that led through the trees, their footsteps muffled by the snow, the silence between them thick with a sense of shared tranquility. Occasionally, Sebastian would reach out to steady her on an icy patch, his hand lingering just a moment longer than necessary before letting go.

Eventually, they reached a small clearing where the trees parted, revealing a perfect view of the heavens above. Stars scattered across the sky in brilliant clusters, and Evangeline tilted her head back, her breath forming small clouds in the cold air as she took it all in.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he murmured, his gaze shifting from the stars to her face, as if he were searching for something in her expression.

She nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen them like this. It’s… like they’re closer somehow.”

Sebastian gazed up at the stars for a moment longer, then raised his hand, pointing to a particularly bright constellation. “See that one?” he murmured. “Canis Major. It’s supposed to represent the loyal hunting dog of Orion.” He traced the shape in the sky with his finger, drawing her attention to the bright star in its shoulder, Sirius. “That’s Sirius, the Dog Star. It’s the brightest star in the night sky. Legend says it represents loyalty and guardianship. Protectiveness.”

Evangeline followed his gaze, surprised he'd paid so much attention in Astronomy class, though her eyes traced the lines he’d pointed out. “A protector,” she said softly, glancing at him. “Seems fitting for you.”

He chuckled, though there was a touch of something serious in his expression. “Think so?”

She nodded, tucking her hands deeper into her pockets to shield them from the cold. “I do. It suits you. You’re… protective.” A faint smile tugged at her lips. “And a more than a bit stubborn."

Sebastian laughed softly, shaking his head. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is one,” she replied, her gaze lingering on the constellation. After a beat, she added, “Actually, I wouldn’t be surprised if your Patronus was a dog of some sort.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “A dog?”

She shrugged, smiling a little. “Or maybe a wolf. Something loyal and fierce, the type of animal that sticks by the people it cares about, no matter what."

He shrugged, a slight smile playing at his lips. “When you put it that way… maybe I don’t mind being compared to a dog."

They continued walking, slipping into an easy rhythm as they wandered further down the moonlit path. The silence that followed was comfortable, each lost in their own thoughts as they took in the beauty of the snowy landscape around them. But eventually, Evangeline began to feel a shiver run through her as the cold seeped past her coat.

Noticing, Sebastian stopped and turned to her with a faint grin, unwinding the Slytherin scarf from around his neck. “Here,” he said, reaching out to drape it over her shoulders. “We can’t have you freezing before we’ve even made it back.”

Evangeline’s hands moved to protest, but the warmth of the scarf, and the scent of Sebastian clinging to it, was too inviting. She pulled it closer around her neck. “Thanks,” she murmured, her cheeks warming despite the chill in the air.

Sebastian crossed his arms, looking entirely too pleased. “I’d say green suits you.”

She rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips as they resumed walking. “Only a Slytherin would think that.”

They shared a quiet look before he nodded toward the path, his eyes glinting in the starlight. “Come on, then. Let’s get you back before I have to start carrying you.”

Once back inside the cottage, warmth quickly enveloped them, a comforting contrast to the frigid night air outside. Evangeline unwound Sebastian’s scarf from around her neck, but hesitated before handing it back.

Sebastian, already shrugging off his coat, didn’t seem to pay much attention as she tucked the scarf under her arm, a small, guilty smile tugging at her lips. He must have plenty of scarves, she reasoned. He wouldn’t miss one. And the thought of having a piece of him nearby—a small memento—felt comforting, like carrying a bit of this shared evening with her.

Sebastian shot her a quick grin as he sauntered down the hall. “Going to change."

She nodded, her cheeks still warm as she slipped into her room as well to pull on her pajamas. The soft cotton and fleece were a far cry from her outdoor layers, and she sighed in relief, reveling in the coziness. She slipped Sebastian’s scarf in her bag, smoothing it out and letting her fingers linger for a moment over the fabric before she turned back toward the hallway.

When she re-emerged, Sebastian was already in the living room, his dark pajama shirt and trousers a relaxed contrast to his usual attire.

“Comfy?” he asked as she approached.

Evangeline nodded, crossing the room and settling into the armchair by the fire, its warmth immediately enveloping her. She pulled her knees up, curling into the chair as Sebastian took his usual spot on the couch while the silence settled between them, comfortable and familiar.

Evangeline watched him quietly, her gaze lingering on the details she scarcely allowed herself to fully appreciate. The firelight danced over him, illuminating the slight scruff along his jawline and the lines of his face that seemed a bit more defined than she remembered. Somewhere along the line, he’d begun growing up—she realized with a soft pang. She noticed how his pajama sleeves, once a perfect fit, now rode up just slightly on his wrists, revealing the lines of his forearms and the faint shadows of veins that ran along them. The hint of adulthood in him, subtle yet unmistakable, made her pulse quicken.

Sebastian, seemingly oblivious to her gaze, leaned his head back against the couch, his eyes half-closed. A soft sigh escaped his lips, the sound almost melting into the warm crackle of the fire. He looked peaceful.

And then suddenly, the clock on the wall chimed, the soft notes echoing in the stillness. Midnight. Christmas.

Sebastian’s eyes opened, meeting hers, and a slow smile spread across his face as he sat up a little, his gaze softening. “Happy Christmas, Evie,” he murmured, his voice low and warm.

“Happy Christmas, Sebastian,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper as her heart raced. She kept her eyes on his, feeling her cheeks grow warm under his steady gaze.

Sebastian rose from the couch, his movements casual yet purposeful. He wandered over to the small Christmas tree in the corner, kneeling to retrieve a couple of gifts wrapped in deep greens and silvers, each tied neatly with white ribbon. His back was to her, but she saw the faint hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"Alright," he murmured, glancing back at her with a glint in his eyes, “time to make it official. Let’s see if Father Christmas stopped by after all.”

Evangeline blinked, jolted out of her reverie. She’d been so caught up in simply watching him that she’d nearly forgotten about the gifts she’d brought. Feeling her cheeks warm again, she quickly pushed herself out of the armchair and hurried to her room, rummaging through her bag until she found her carefully wrapped bundle of gifts. She’d spent ages choosing each one, thinking of things that might hold meaning for him, but now, with the quiet magic of the moment still lingering in the air, she suddenly felt nervous.

When she returned to the living room, she found Sebastian already settled back on the couch, his gifts neatly stacked on the small table between them. He looked up as she approached, his eyes softening at the sight of her with her bundle in hand.

“Thought you might’ve forgotten about me there for a second,” he teased, his voice low, though his gaze held nothing but warmth.

She managed a smile, sinking back into her chair and setting the gifts down beside her. “Never."

Sebastian reached for one of the green-wrapped gifts, holding it out to her with a playful grin. “Ladies first.”

She carefully unwrapped the paper, peeling it back to reveal a small, leather-bound journal with her initials embossed in gold on the cover. The pages were thick and cream-colored, and a small quill was tucked inside. She traced her fingers over the letters, her breath catching slightly. “Sebastian… it’s beautiful.”

He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, though there was a hint of satisfaction in his expression, "It's a forget-me-not journal... charmed so that it always returns to the owner’s side when they need it," He explained, his gaze softening further as he watched her flip through the first few pages. Then, after a moment, he gestured to the gifts by her side. “Go on then. Let’s see what you’ve got up your sleeve.”

She picked up one of her carefully wrapped gifts, her heart pounding as she handed it over. Sebastian’s expression grew curious as he tore away the paper and opened the box, revealing a small, elegantly stoppered vial filled with a swirling, golden liquid. He turned it in his hand, the shimmering contents catching the firelight, his eyes widening as he recognized what it was. “Evangeline… is this—?”

“Felix Felicis,” she confirmed, a bit shyly. “I know how much trouble we got into last year trying to find a vial. So… I thought maybe you’d like your own.” She laughed softly. “I spent months trying to get it right, following every rule— it was quite the endeavour, if I'm honest."

He was silent for a beat, his thumb brushing over the vial, visibly awed. “You made this for me?”

She nodded, biting her lip nervously. “I thought… if you ever need a bit of extra luck. Merlin knows you find enough ways to get yourself into trouble.”

Sebastian’s eyes softened, and he carefully set the vial down before looking at her with an intensity that made her heart pound. “You didn’t have to go to all that trouble,” he murmured, his voice lower, as though he were struggling to find the right words. “But… thank you."

He held her gaze a moment longer, and then, as if realizing he’d almost said too much, he looked away, his cheeks faintly pink. “Alright, my turn,” he said, picking up another of the gifts and holding it out to her.

Evangeline took it and carefully peeled back the green paper, her fingers trembling slightly as she revealed a small, elegant satchel with a soft, worn-in leather texture. She looked up at Sebastian, a mixture of curiosity and surprise in her eyes.

“Wow, Sebastian... this is such a beautiful bag,” she breathed, tracing her fingers over the smooth surface.

Sebastian grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “Not just any bag. Here, watch."

He leaned over, taking the satchel from her hands with a glint of excitement in his eyes. “Let me show you,” he said, and in one swift motion, began picking up random objects around the room—a few books, a teacup, even a throw pillow from the couch—and tossed them into the satchel.

Evangeline watched, half-amused and half-baffled, as he kept adding things, the bag barely bulging under the growing weight. When he was done, he handed it back to her with a triumphant smile.

“Now, think of something you want from the bag,” he instructed, gesturing for her to give it a try.

She took a breath, humouring him with a skeptical smile as she thought of one of the books he’d tossed in. Almost instantly, her fingers brushed against it, and she pulled it out, marveling at how easily it had appeared.

“Oh, Sebastian, this is incredible!” She ran her hand over the bag’s smooth leather, the realization dawning on her that this was no ordinary charm. “It’s like it knows exactly what I’m looking for.”

Sebastian’s grin widened. “Because it does. No more endless digging for whatever you need; just think of it, and there it is.”

She stared at the bag, overcome by how thoughtful—and genuinely useful—the gift was. “How did you even think of this?” she asked, her voice full of wonder.

He shrugged, trying to look casual but clearly pleased by her reaction. “I noticed how you’re always carrying around way too much stuff. Figured it might help you actually find what you're looking for,” He paused, a hint of softness entering his voice. “Besides, if you’re going to be off getting into all sorts of trouble, you’ll need to be prepared.”

Evangeline chuckled, a warmth spreading through her chest as she glanced down at the bag, feeling a surge of gratitude for his thoughtfulness. “Well, it’s perfect. Honestly, I don’t know how you thought of something so… exactly what I needed.”

Sebastian’s expression softened, his gaze holding hers for a long, unspoken moment. Finally, he reached for another small bundle, handing it to her, “Alright,” he murmured, his voice almost shy. “Last one.”

She took the gift, her fingers tracing the delicate edges of the wrapping before she carefully peeled it open, revealing a small candle encased in a glass holder, the wax a soft shade of purple. Her brow furrowed in curiosity, looking up at him.

“A companion candle,” he explained, watching her reaction closely. “It’ll light up whenever the person you’re thinking of the most is also awake.” He rubbed the back of his neck, as if trying to brush off the vulnerability in his voice.

"How lovely," She murmured as she reached for the candle’s lid, lifting it with a faint tremor in her fingers. The moment it came free, the wick flickered to life, as though it had been waiting for her touch. Its soft glow filled the room with a warm, golden light, and the scent of vanilla and lavender drifted between them.

Sebastian watched the flicker of the flame, casting its soft glow across her face, accentuating the warm curve of her smile and the gentle sparkle in her eyes. He couldn’t help but wonder, for the hundredth time since he bought the candle, who the it might connect her to—was it him, right now, as he sat here beside her? Or could it be someone else entirely? The thought twisted uncomfortably in his chest. It could even be Lysander, he supposed, and that thought made him hesitate, his gaze flicking to the flickering flame.

But before he could dwell on it, Evangeline’s soft voice pulled him from his thoughts. She held the candle close, watching the flame with a tender smile as she murmured, “Well, I guess now I'll always know… if you’re up causing trouble at odd hours.”

Sebastian’s heart stilled, her words sinking in slowly, their meaning filling him with a quiet thrill and palpable relief. His mind raced, replaying the words in his mind. The candle had tied itself to him—of all people. It was him that Evangeline thought of most often, him sparking the candle’s flame.

He felt his lips curve into a soft, almost bashful smile, trying to cover the swell of happiness by brushing off the comment with his usual humour, “Trouble?” he echoed, feigning innocence. “Me? I’m practically a model citizen.”

She gave him a playful, knowing look. “Uh-huh, sure,” she teased, rolling her eyes. “You’re practically a Slytherin saint.” Then, with a gentle smile, she reached for her own final gift, retrieving a small box, “For you,” she said, her voice a soft murmur.

He chuckled, but there was a softness in his gaze he couldn’t quite hide as he took it, his gaze lingering on her face for a moment before he carefully peeled back the wrapping, uncovering a smooth, dark case.

Inside, nestled in velvet, was a delicate glass vial, its contents swirling with a faint, silvery shimmer. Sebastian’s breath caught as he looked up, meeting her gaze with a mixture of surprise and wonder.

“Another memory,” she explained, her voice barely above a whisper. “One I... thought you might want to hold on to."

He smiled, tilting the vial gently as the memory swirled within, "I can't wait to see which one it is this time."

Evangeline’s lips curved into a soft smile, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “Well I'm not going to ruin the surprise,” she murmured.

With a smile, Sebastian slipped the memory back into its case, his fingers brushing over the smooth velvet with a reverence that made her heart ache, and before she could stop herself, she reached out, gently pulling him into a hug. Immediately, his arms were around her, strong and sure, wrapped her in his warmth. His hand pressed gently against her back, his fingers splaying as if he wanted to memorize the feel of her there. She relaxed against him, letting herself melt into his embrace, her cheek resting against his shoulder.

Sebastian’s chin brushed the top of her head as he held her close, his heart pounding in a way that felt unsteady, vulnerable. He could feel the softness of her against him, every breath in sync with his, and for a fleeting moment, he let himself hope—let himself feel the way she fit perfectly there.

He knew he should pull away, that he shouldn’t linger like this, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to let go. His fingers found their way to her hair, brushing a soft strand away as he pulled back, just enough to look down at her. Her hazel eyes met his, and Sebastian could feel his unspoken feelings clawing their way up his throat in the quiet.

Their faces were close, close enough that he could see the faint reflection of the candlelight in her eyes, feel her breath warm against his cheek. A heartbeat passed, and then another, as though the whole world had narrowed to just this moment, just them.

But finally, with a gentle squeeze, Sebastian forced himself to pull back, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Happy Christmas, Evangeline,” he whispered, his voice low, holding a softness that was just for her.

Her own smile mirrored his, warm and steady as she whispered, “Happy Christmas, Sebastian.”

~

Late into the quiet hours of the night, Sebastian lay on his bed, his room dimly lit by the soft glow of his own companion candle, still flickering on his nightstand. He watched the flame closely, feeling a slight tension in his chest as he waited for it to go out. His fingers traced the edge of the memory vial, its delicate glass smooth under his fingers, while his thoughts drifted to the scenes it might hold.

He’d been so tempted to view the memory earlier, but something about doing so while Evangeline was still awake felt too revealing, too personal, and the last thing he wanted was for her to somehow sense his presence in her thoughts. So when the candle flickered out… when she’d fallen asleep… then he’d be free to let his curiosity slip into her memory, to see this moment she had chosen to share with him.

It felt like it took ages before the flame wavered and went out, leaving the room in near darkness. A mix of relief and anticipation fluttered in Sebastian's chest as chest he took a breath, steadying himself as reached under his bed for the pensieve she had gifted him.

Setting it on his bedside table, he poured the silvery contents of the vial into the pensieve, watching the memory swirl and settle. His heart pounded, a blend of curiosity and anticipation making his movements careful as he leaned forward, letting himself be drawn into the memory Evangeline had chosen for him.

As the memory sharpened around him, he found himself in the grand hall of the Solstice Ball, every detail vividly brought back to life: the sweeping, ornate decor, the glittering chandelier casting soft, romantic light, and the quiet murmur of distant voices blending into the melody of a slow, stately waltz. For a moment, anxiety twisted in his stomach, worried that the memory she’d chosen to share might show something he wasn’t prepared to see. A memory with Lysander, perhaps, or a glimpse of her feeling genuinely at ease within the stiff rituals and grandeur of pure-blood society.

But then, she and Ominis materialized before him, smiling at each other as they finished their dance. And then, he saw himself approaching from across the room and the breath she held in her chest as he drew close. It was then that he noticed how Evangeline's gaze lingered on the finer details—the slight, self-assured smirk he wore, the uncharacteristically intense way he looked at her as though he were seeing her for the first time.

As the memory continued, Sebastian found himself captivated by the way Evangeline had experienced their dance. Everything beyond their shared space was muted, softened into indistinct shadows. The vastness of the grand hall, the elegance of the other guests, even the opulence of the Solstice Ball decorations—all of it had faded into a hazy backdrop in her memory. It was as if, in that moment, she’d seen nothing and no one but him.

He watched himself dance with her, his touch at her waist light but firm, his gaze lingering on her face with an intensity he now knew she’d noticed, even in those fleeting moments. The small gestures he’d made—the way his thumb traced over the back of her hand, the slight pull to bring her closer—were magnified in her memory, each touch and glance recorded with perfect clarity.

Her focus shifted as he leaned closer, her attention drawn to his smile, the curve of his mouth, the way his eyes softened whenever she met his gaze. Sebastian felt a surge of warmth realizing she had noticed these details so closely.

And then, as the final notes of the second dance began to fade, he saw himself pause, his reluctance to let go as apparent as her own. They lingered together, the air between them thick with the unspoken, but eventually, he watched himself step back, forcing himself to let her go.

Sebastian expected the memory to end there, his heart already heavy as he watched himself turn and walk away. But it didn’t. Instead, the memory lingered, holding steady as he watched Evangeline’s form move toward Lysander. And just as she neared him, something unexpected happened: she hesitated. Her steps faltered, her body shifted, and before she fully reached the Ravenclaw, she cast a glance over her shoulder.

Sebastian’s heart stilled. In that fleeting, tender look, she followed his retreating form, her gaze lingering on him in a way that felt unguarded, searching, almost reluctant. She had turned to Lysander as he had expected—but her focus had remained on him.

In her memory, Lysander’s figure was blurred, an indistinct silhouette against the brightness of their dance. Sebastian had been the only one fully in focus, as if even then, even after stepping away, he was still the one who held her attention.

The memory’s edges began to blur, the ballroom fading until Sebastian found himself once more sitting sitting alone in his room. He let out a long, shaky breath, his heart full of emotions he hadn’t expected. The memory had held more than he could have hoped, more than he could have ever guessed.

Setting the empty vial gently back on his bedside table, he allowed himself a smile, the ghost of hope flickering within him.

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

[heygerald]

Falling Without A Harness - Chapter 5

AU where Tom Ryder is still an asshole, just not a psychotic one. When he has good news, but no one to share it with, Parker invites him along to her brother's birthday party. A moment of weakness, or a moment for him to prove he's more than just his Hollywood ego?

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"—and Jody said she was going to wear something simple, maybe jeans and a t-shirt, but I'm not really sure I want to match that vibe or go for something a little more, you know, fun. Maybe I could finally break out the bucket hat tonight," Colt's voice droned on from the phone tucked indelicately into the crevice of her neck and shoulder. Parker was only half listening, as was the usual when it came to her brother's incessant rambling about anything related to the pretty blonde camerawoman, and while he talked, she made work of slowly peeling strips of painters tape from the freshly painted wall. The ball in her hand was nicely sized by this point of the conversation. "So, anyway... uh, wait, what was the point?"

"Was there a point?" she mused aloud. "I stopped listening when you started talking about some pony she rode once at her twelfth birthday party."

She heard him snap his fingers. "Right—the birthday party."

"Hers or yours?"

"Mine! Listen, I know that you all put a lot of work into planning this shindig—"

"Shindig? God, you're old!"

"—but I would really appreciate if you told me what to expect tonight. Just a hint will do. I'm not trying to show up wearing dress shoes to a disco if you know what I mean."

Parker stuck another piece of tape onto the ever-growing ball with a blithe snort. "I never know what you mean."

"Park," he whined, much like a child, and not the thirty-something year old man that he was. Was this year number thirty-seven or thirty-eight? She should probably figure that out before putting candles on his cake. "Come onnnnnn. Just tell me. Just a hint!"

"And ruin the surprise? No way, Jose."

"But it's my birthday surprise! You can spoil it for me. I mean, realistically, no one would blame you if, maybe, you accidentally let the surprise slip. It'd be expected coming from you, actually."

She frowned. "What do you mean it would be expected coming from me?"

"Well, you know, you can't keep a secret to save your life."

Parker tossed the ball of tape into the trash and picked up the broom with an indignant scoff. "Excuse me, I am a very good secret keeper."

A long winded and high-pitched whine followed, and she winced at the volume of it. Parker switched the phone to her other ear, certain that between her brother and Melissa she had permanent hearing damage.

"Oh, so now all of the sudden you're a locked vault!" he blathered on. "Where was this dedication to silence when I got sick at Macy Lindwigs wedding and you spent the entire evening telling everyone you could find?"

An image of Macy Lindwig, dressed to the nines in a beautiful handmade wedding dress, staring in horror as her brother puked in an azalea bush three minutes before the ceremony started came to mind.

"Oh, I totally forgot about that," she snickered, the memory almost too sweet to ignore now that it had been brought back up. "You ruined her heels that night, you know. What was I supposed to do? Not tell everyone?"

"For starters. Or, at the very least, you could have refrained from blabbing about it at Christmas," he muttered petulantly. "Grandma never looked at me the same way again. She still won't let me near her rose garden."

"Cause and effect," Parker chirped. "You drank one too many tequila shots the night before, and thus, you have to suffer the fate of Grandma judging you every Christmas Eve."

"Miami Vice premiered the night before!" he argued, shouting, in what she suspected was a deranged manner. Parker hoped he was somewhere public; perhaps a grocery store or laundromat. "Just another example of how you can't keep a secret for the life of you, not even when your brother's good name is at stake. Your only true sibling, might I add."

"And here I thought I was an orphan found in a box."

She could hear Colt kicking something, palm clasped over the speaker as he whined, before he was back. "You're worse than Judas, you know. You ruin lives just for the fun of it, no silver needed."

"Are you offering silver?"

A cough. "Uh, I mean, I'm a little tight on silver at the moment. I think I have a free sub from Publix somewhere around here."

"A coupon. Wow. So generous."

"It's a punch card, and those aren't easy to fill out, you know," he huffed indignantly, obviously put out that Parker wasn't going to accept his lackluster offer. "What if I say pretty please?"

"Ha! Nice try. I happen to like Jody, so even if I wanted to tell you what we're doing tonight—which I don't—I'm not going to. She was really excited to help me plan this year."

Some spluttering followed her resolution, before he was kicking something again. Apparently, whatever he kicked was harder than he thought, however, and the next moment her brother was wheezing in pain.

"Jesus, take it easy, alright? You're going to need your toes for tonight."

In a breathless voice, he weaseled, "tonight at...?"

But Parker was no novice when it came to keeping secrets from her brother, and so she didn't fall for the trick. "Ha, nice try," she snorted while stooping to sweep her pile of dust and paint chips off the ground. Shades of green and white stained her hands, but she didn't bother to clean them off. It would be a pointless endeavor, after all, considering what they had planned for Colt's birthday party later that evening. "I'm trying to stay on Jody's good side."

"Both of her sides are good sides," was his immediate response, something wistful coloring his tone. "She's gorgeous. If you haven't noticed."

"Trust me," Parker deadpanned with a blithe glance at her own disheveled appearance, "I've noticed."

"Do you think I should bring her flowers?"

"To your birthday party?"

"Girls like flowers. Plus, she's planning the whole thing."

"I helped!"

"I'm not bringing you flowers to my birthday party, Park. It's not about you, you know."

"Right, of course, how could I have forgotten?" she deadpanned. However, despite his disinterest in showing her any gratitude, Parker smiled at the concept that there was a man out in this world so infatuated by a woman, that he not only spent all his time talking about her, but he also wanted to bring her flowers for no good reason. If only she could find someone like that who wasn't her brother. Wishes and wants, she supposed. "As nice of a thought as that is, don't bring her flowers tonight. They'll end up wilted by the time she gets back home from the party. If they aren't totally trashed first, that is."

His tone pitched higher, eagerly. "Trashed? Why would they be trashed? Are we doing some floral vandalism tonight? Oh!" Colt cried, hands clapping together. "Are we going to a wreck-it room? I've always wanted to do something like that. You know, somewhere that wasn't on a set, anyway, where I'm being beat up for a living with props."

Parker covered the speaker of her phone to curse at herself. While she hadn't ruined the surprise, Colt was like a dog with a hambone, and was not likely to let it go anytime soon.

She cleared her throat and attempted indifference. "Not even close," she said, but it didn't sound super convincing, and with an exasperated huff, she threw her hands up. "Jesus, Colt, you're going to get me into trouble! Just chill out. Jody should be picking you up soon, anyway."

"Picking me up soon for...?"

Colt's whining was interrupted by the tinkle of the front bell, and as she switched her phone back to her right ear, Parker took a moment to scoop up the paint-splattered tarp sprawled across the floor.

Melissa had been on to something with her suggestion to repaint the store, and while they had only gotten the walls finished over the past two and a half weeks, the mossy green color with gold accented picture frames really gave some life back to her shop. It still had that musty smell, as well as a pair of flickering lightbulbs from the janky electrical sockets, but they were definitely taking a step in the right direction. The color made everything feel cozier, and once they coated the bookshelves with shades of blue and yellow and replaced the overhead fluorescents with something warmer, she thought it might look like an entirely new store for the price of a few gallons of paint.

Not to mention the color stood out from the recent tan and brown trend that had swept across Hollywood hills. Win, win.

"Ugh! Stop trying to spoil your own surprise and let it happen, alright? You're going to love it," she pacified half-heartedly while booting a stool out of the way. Too deep of a breath had the smell of laquear and paint fumes killing off some braincells, and Parker dropped the tarp along with the rest of the paint materials with a cross-eyed huff. "Plus, it was all Jody's idea, so if you hate it, I would keep that to your..."

Parker paused halfway up the aisle.

On the far end of it, a brown and black colored dog sat patiently wagging its tail at her. Its tongue was sticking out of the side of its mouth, but despite Elon Musk's predictions about the existence of intelligent life in the galaxy, she was pretty sure that the local population of Hollywood mutts had yet to grow opposable thumbs capable of opening a door.

She blinked at it.

"Er, listen," she muttered into the phone, gaze darting past the dog, but not seeing its owner. "I have to go. There's a dog situation that I need to take care of."

"A dog? I've been asking you for years to get a dog, and now you finally decide to get one on my birthday! That's so totally fu—"

Parker hung up before he could complain any further, and slowly tucked her phone into the back pocket of her jeans. The dog barked at her, as if excited to finally have her attention.

"Er—hi. Did you—how did you get in here?" she asked.

It responded by tilting its head to a ninety-degree angle. She stared, waiting, as if the language barrier would suddenly disappear.

Unsurprisingly, it didn't. The dog barked a second time.

"I don't have any treats on me," she said again, not sure else what to say, but certainly feeling like she should say something. It trotted towards her, and though it seemed friendly at first, when it stuck its head into her crotch to take too deep a sniff for comfort, Parker jumped backwards. "Ah—fuck! Buy a girl dinner first, huh?"

She sidestepped the dog, hands splayed out in front of her like she was a robbery victim, and did her best to avoid being felt up as the dog followed her towards the storefront. It nosed her rear end, and Parker let out an undignified squeak.

"Jesus! I know the humane society is underfunded and all, but this is a little ridiculous, don't you think?" she asked it.

The dog darted in front of her, nose going right back for the crotch, and Parker just barely managed to leap onto Melissa's sunken reading chair when an increasingly familiar head of blonde hair stepped out from behind one of the bookshelves.

"Talon, Jean Claude," he said, and as though the dog hadn't just been harassing her, it plopped down onto the floor right beside him. Dog and owner blinked at her in bemusement. "Don't seriously tell me that you're afraid of dogs."

Parker shot him a disgruntled glare in response, but Tom didn't seem to mind the heat packed behind it. Instead, he smirked at her, crossed one arm over the other, and languidly leaned back against the front counter.

It was obvious he was laughing at her, and not with her, and Parker added it to the list of all the things she couldn't stand about Tom Ryder. Worse though, she couldn't help but subconsciously smooth a hand over her hair, because where Jody was effortlessly gorgeous, Parker required quite a bit of effort not to look awful. And right now, with paint-stained pants, a half-assed pair of dutch braids, and miscolored converse, she was certainly not showing him her good side.

If she even had one, that is.

"I should have known you would have a pervy dog," she said while looking down her nose at him. Literally, too, considering she was still standing on the chair. Parker flushed a bright red at the realization and none-too-glamorously clambered down onto her feet. "And French, too. I think that's stereotyping, Ryder."

Despite the distrustful look she shot the dog, he seemed a whole lot less pervy and rabid now that she knew he had an owner, and when she approached it, its tail flapped back and forth excitedly.

"Insulting an entire country?" Tom harrumphed as she started to scratch the dog between its ears. "Maybe you should sit through PR training with me next time Gail hosts a session."

She blew a bland raspberry as she read the dog's name tag.

Jean Claude. Huh. Cute.

He let out a low whine when she hit a particularly sensitive spot, and in delight, he rolled onto his back with half-lidded eyes.

"Is this the one you were talking to the other day, or do you have any other expat mutts that I should know about? I can only be felt up so many times before I file a harassment complaint."

"Jean Claude isn't a mutt," he corrected her, disdain at the very idea of owning a mutt. Parker supposed adopting a kennel-dog was likely below him, being a superstar and what not. "He's an Australian Kelpie, pure-bred, and he certainly wasn't fucking cheap. His parents are award winning cattle dogs in the Australian circuit."

"That's an award category?"

"Hmph. Laugh all you want, but I'd bet he's better trained than you are. He's even trained to attack someone in the balls on command."

"So am I," she sassed while making kissy faces at Jean Claude. "Oh, he's cute. Yes, you are. Yes, you are," she cooed.

He ate it right up, tail flapping in every direction, and when she spared Tom a glance, she could feel the jealousy rolling off him that someone else was getting more attention. Dog or not. Parker snickered.

"Sorry you're stuck with this one," she added, jerking a thumb over her shoulder to gesture in Tom's general area. "But trust me, you're way cuter, and probably lower maintenance than he is."

Tom cleared his throat. "Are you done?"

"Jealous?"

"Of a dog?" he deadpanned, rolling his eyes beneath a pair of expensive Ray Bans—not at all disproving the theory—and Parker smiled at her private joke. "Hardly."

She leaned closer to Jean Claude, and spoke in a stage whisper, "I think he's jealous."

And—yup—that seemed to do it.

Tom pushed off the counter with a sharp huff, unamused by her teasing, and make a command in French. Jean Claude bounded onto his feet, trotted to where Tom was, and curled up between his legs.

Parker stood and planted her hands onto her hips. "Real mature."

"I can always show you his attack command," Tom threatened. "I doubt you'll find him as adorable when he attacks you. It's always a hit at parties, watching someone get their balls bitten off."

"I think I'm missing a critical component for that trick to work," she pointed out with a dry smile. "But, anyway, what are you doing here? If you came to return my books, they're yours, considering how much you paid for them the other day."

He shrugged. "Maybe I want my change."

"You came all the way here, through traffic, to get your change?" she echoed, clearly disbelieving his piss poor excuse. Under her stare, Tom shuffled uncomfortably on his feet. "Hm. I thought I was supposed to be the penny pincher between the two of us."

"Maybe it's not the money I care about. It's the principle of the whole thing."

"Ha! You expect me to believe that you have principles?"

Tom huffed, but she caught the crooked upturn of his mouth. Still, he played the victim—always acting, this one. "You're right. I don't just deserve change. I should get a full refund, considering how awful your book recommendations were. Not to mention the books practically fell apart when I touched them. Clearly, you sell cheap products."

"Clearly," she muttered, while flipping the sign on the front door from OPEN to CLOSED. There wasn't much going on outside, anyway, and she doubted she would be missing any customers by taking the day off early.

"You want to tell me what you're really doing here? Because we both know you liked my recommendations," she said matter-of-factly, moving to the cash register now. She had made a few sales throughout the day, more than a typical Friday, and so she carefully began stacking her receipts. "I mean, who wouldn't? Those are good books I gave you. Contact is in my top ten."

Tom leaned on the counter. "Books I bought."

She waved him off, stack of receipts in hand, as she locked the lower cabinet. Tom could complain all he wanted, but she did know that he liked her book recommendations. He had finished them all within a week, when he likely should have been spending more attention devoted to practicing for his audition. Granted, it was a sci-fi movie he was auditioning for, but—

She startled.

"Oh, duh!" Parker sprung to her full height with a curious look. "Did you get the part?"

Tom smirked.

It wasn't bashful or pleasant or soft like authors typically described their tall, dark, and handsome characters, but it was so very him that she hardly minded it. In fact, Parker sort of liked it. It crinkled the soft lines by his eyes, loosened the tension in his shoulders, and made him look younger. Nicer. Cuter.

"Of course I did," he sassed. "I told you I was going to get it."

She ignored his blatant peacocking to punch him in the shoulder. The action seemed to shock him, and Tom clutched the spot with his other hand—as if she had done some real damage—while Parker grinned. "Holy shit, that's great! I mean, sure, you were a shoo-in or whatever, but this is a big deal. Right? It's a big deal? You must be jumping off the walls right now!"

Tom gave a bemused huff, eyes darting over the length of her face, and nodded. "Biggest movie I've gotten yet," he said. "My first sci-fi film too, so, that's going to get my name out there even more than it was. I mean, if I thought I was well known before... after this, everyone will know who Tom Ryder is."

"That's awesome!"

Tom rolled his eyes at her enthusiasm, clearly not buying into it, and though Parker was so excited on his behalf, Tom seemed like he was fighting off indifference to the news. "Yeah, well, a role's a role, you know."

"Well, yeah," she hedged, waving a hand at him, "but this is your first sci-fi role, and it was one that you even told me you wanted to get. You must be at least a little excited for it. Sci-fi is so interesting, I bet filming it is gonna be a ton of fun."

"Sure," he echoed dryly. His smirk had returned, and though she wouldn't necessarily classify what his face was doing now as a smile, it was certainly close. "Fun. That's what I'm aiming for in my career: fun."

"Oh, please," she clucked her tongue at him, receipts shoved hastily into their folder. "You can be a huge movie star and still have fun doing it. I mean, isn't that the point? Doing something you love and all that. I'd imagine it's going to be a whole new experience for you, stepping into a sci-fi set."

He hemmed, mouth twisting between a smile and a frown. "I guess."

He didn't sound all that convinced. In fact, when Parker thought about it, she seemed to be far more excited about the role than he did. She tilted her head at him suspiciously. "Alright, well... what are you doing to celebrate?" she asked. "A vacation? Buying yourself a new car? Oooh—Legoland?"

He furrowed his brows at her in surprised. "Legoland?"

"It's what I would do," she shrugged. "Probably, anyway. I've never been because the tickets just don't seem worth the price, but if I had just landed a giant role in a giant blockbuster, I think buying a ticket would be the least of my worries. You could probably even write it off on your taxes."

He blinked at her. "Poor people are so sad to me."

She stuck her tongue out at him, and took delight in the way that he huffed in amusement. "Well? Come on—make me jealous—what are you doing?"

Tom shrugged. "Gail's throwing a big party next week to announce the role. She always does that. Invites her producer friends and talent agents and that sort of stuff. There'll probably be some sort of attraction, singers or a zebra or something."

"Casual," she snorted.

"She has a weird thing for exotic animals, I don't know."

"Seems like it. But that's what she's doing, what are you doing?" she needled further. "I mean, I assumed you would do a big party with your friends before then. You know—cops get called, party crashers—the whole scene."

Tom hesitated to answer, and when he did, he didn't sound all that much like himself. "Well, I can't really do that—she controls when I make go public with the news—has the whole timeline figured out, and manages all the press for it. She doesn't let me tell people ahead of time."

"I'm people."

He rolled his eyes. "You're a nobody," he said. Not to be mean; no, Tom was very clear in his words when he intended to be mean. Instead, he had said it nonchalantly, as if it was a universal truth that everyone understood. And, in all honesty, Parker got it. "I mean, who are you going to tell that would care, you know?"

"Okay, ouch," she muttered still, before barreling on. "Don't you have any non-work friends that you can go get drinks with?"

"All my friends are work friends."

"What about people that don't know Gail?"

Tom huffed and waved a hand at her. "That's the same thing, you know. She introduced me to everyone I know in the industry. Other than some set hands, we have the same circle."

Parker sank onto her heels, feeling slighted on his behalf, but knowing that she didn't really have a right to. Surely, Tom Ryder would have stood up to Gail if he didn't like her hands-on, helicopter parent approach to managing his life. And clearly their work relationship was beneficial to them both. He certainly didn't need a nobody like her feeling sorry for him.

And yet, she did.

Because, as she listened to him talk, it felt like he had to give up everything just to be a somebody in Hollywood. And while it might have been the norm for him, it was absolutely not the norm for everybody.

Did he even realize that?

"Fuck that," Parker said before she could think better of it, emotions getting the better of her. Colt always joked that she had a bleeding heart, but she had never thought there was anything wrong with that. "Come hang out with me, then."

Tom arched a brow at her, mouth parted dumbly. "...what?"

She shrugged, feeling a little like a specimen beneath a microscope, and struggled to explain herself. "I mean, you just said that Gail doesn't want you telling anybody that matters, and I only hang out with people that don't matter in the grand scheme of Hollywood politics. I'm getting ready to head to Colt's birthday party after this, and if you're not doing anything else, you may as well come with me. It won't be a celebration for you, obviously, but... it'll be fun."

He blinked at her slowly, surprise written in the fine lines of his face.

"We're not going to murder you," she huffed indignantly.

"I—I never hang out with Colt or those guys."

"Yeah, for good reason. They all sort of hate you for being an asshole on set to them. Like, all the time. I wouldn't want to hang out with you outside of work either, if I was them."

He scowled. "Oh, well, when you put it like that," he huffed. "Obviously, they're not going to want me to come. And, I may be an asshole, but I try not to gatecrash birthday parties."

She waved his concern away with a paint-stained hand. "First off, you won't be gatecrashing, I'm literally extending an invite. And secondly, they only hate you because you're a prick on set. What better way to prove that you're not a prick, by coming to Colt's birthday party, and—you know—actually being nice for once. Just don't be a dickwad. Or an asshole. Or any sort of thing that you usually are on a normal day."

"I think the saying is 'always be yourself'," he deadpanned.

"That absolutely doesn't apply here."

"Smartass."

Parker nudged him in the shoulder with an exasperated look. "Come on! What else are you going to do? Do some irresponsible spending and buy everyone a round of drinks. I bet they'll think differently of you after everybody is a few beers in."

Tom didn't seem too convinced with her logic. "Crashing his birthday party doesn't seem the best way to get on Colt's good side. I didn't even know it was his birthday."

"Now you do," she shrugged, as if it wasn't a big deal. And—well—her brother was probably going to bitch about Tom's presence at the party, but Parker also believed that after a few shots of liquor, everyone would get over the issue fairly quick. Not to mention the party itself was designed for stress relief. Bringing Tom may actually make the night. With a conniving wiggle of her brows, Parker tried again. "I know for a fact that there's room for one more. Jody and I planned the whole thing together, and if she's allowed a plus-one, so am I. Jean Claude can even come. Colt loves dogs."

Tom seemed to sway a little further with her reasoning, and with a slow nod, he finally agreed. He certainly didn't look happy about it though.

Parker punched the air. Oh, Colt is going to love this.

"Awesome! Give me a minute to lock up, and then we can go."

"Fine," he huffed, not too unlike that of a sulky toddler. "But I'm driving."

Parker smiled. Her car was a piece of shit that barely worked on a good day. She was going to insist he drive in the first place. Plus, now, she could get really drunk.

"Fine by me," was all she said, not eager to give away that piece of information just yet. "Just promise me you won't be an asshole. I won't be able to keep my reputation of favorite sister if you ruin the night."

"I'm not going to ruin the night," he snarked with a petulant glare. Parker shrugged, grabbing her things, as he asked, "...wait, I thought you were his only sister?"

"Exactly. Now, come on, I want to get there before they start assigning teams."

The bell rang as she stepped outside, Jean Claude trotting with her, and Tom hesitated for a brief moment before what she said caught up to him.

"Wait," he called, jogging after her. "What do you mean teams?"

---

Tom's presence did not go unnoticed. In fact, it had taken a mere three minutes before Jody was elbowing her to the side, a stern, disbelieving look furrowing her brows. She had let it go in a huff, however, when Parker pointed out that Tom had promised to be on his best behavior, as well as promised to buy the first round of drinks once the game was over.

That had been a lie, of course, but she supposed she could deal with that tantrum later.

Colt, on the other hand, hadn't been so easily placated, and as the twenty odd players stood in a circle, listening to the instructor drone on about safety, he weaseled next to her with a glare.

"I can't believe you brought Ryder," he hissed for the third time that night, hot breath on her face. She would have shoved him away if the instructor hadn't already reprimanded then twice for being distracting. "I mean, seriously Park, I can't stand the guy."

"Oh, really? I couldn't tell."

"Really!"

"Well, I'm sorry," she shrugged, although the apology was half-hearted at best, and Colt seemed to know this as he narrowed his eyes at her irritably. She huffed. "What was I supposed to do? Leave him behind?"

"Yes," Colt whisper-yelled. Dan glanced over his shoulder at the pair, and in perfect Seavers' sibling unison, they plastered fake smiles onto their faces with a friendly wave. He shook his head at them, but likely didn't think they were worth whatever trouble they caused, and faced forward once more. "That's exactly what you should have done!"

"It's not that easy," she argued, hissing as well. "He looked so sad! Like a little abandoned puppy dog that had just been kicked. It was a moment of weakness!"

"Oh, really?" Colt drawled. Together, they glanced over at Tom to find him ignoring everyone in the group with his head stuck in his phone. When a fly buzzed too close, he swatted at it with an icy glare. "That? You couldn't say no to that?"

"I said I was sorry!"

Parker's voice hitched higher than she intended, and the instructor paused in his speech to glare at the duo. She gave him a weak smile in return, mouthing, a guilty, sorry!

The man only got two words back into his speech, however, before Colt started whining again.

"Look, I'm totally stoked about the surprise party, okay? You did a stand-up job on it and the guest list. So how could you fuck it all up so close to the finish line?"

"What the hell does that even mean?" she asked in bewilderment. Parker shook her head. "Seriously, you need to update your sayings."

"Update my—?" Colt bit off a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose to take a long, overdrawn breath. "Why was he even at your bookstore? Since when did you two become friends? What happened to the whole—asshole, asshole, asshole—bit you had going on?"

"I still think he's an asshole," she shot back. But, well, when she caught Tom's gaze across the grass, she faltered. Did she think he was an asshole at his core? Or had he simply become someone she was beginning to understand—a dog that lashed out when someone got too close? Parker rubbed circles into her temple. "And we're not friends. And, even if we were, you have no one to blame but yourself."

"Myself?" he echoed in disbelief. "What do I have to do with this?"

"You're the one that gave him my phone number."

Colt snorted, shaking his head at her. "Fat chance of that," he said. Parker, thinking he was joking at first, fell silent when he caught the look in his eye. But, if Colt hadn't given Tom her phone number, then who had? she wondered, mentally counting down the list of people it could have possibly been.

Bigger fish to fry, she reminded herself when the list made her go cross-eyed.

"Whatever. We're not friends or buddies or whatever you think we are, so you can stop worrying about that."

Colt snorted. "Oh, sure you're not. He just happens to hang out around your bookshop and you share recommendations and, oh yeah! You bring him as a plus-one to my birthday party!"

Parker scowled. "I made the guest list, I think I have a right to bring someone along with."

"Sure, someone. Not Jaws over there."

She frowned at him, thrown off by the random insult. "Jaws?" she echoed, crinkling her nose distastefully. "What does a shark have to do with this?"

Colt sighed. "No, not the shark, the James Bond villain."

"That's a stupid name for a villain."

"I didn't write the damn thing."

"Okay, well, maybe he has the arrogance of a James Bond villain, but at least pick one from this century."

"Silva?"

"Nah. Whose the the one with the weird eye?"

Colt hummed thoughtfully, gaze darting over towards Tom. "Le Chiffre?"

Parker snapped her fingers and pointed at him. "That one!"

"Yeah, alright, I'll give you that," he conceded, nodding. "He does give off Bond villain vibes with the sunglasses and hair-do."

"Right? Oh you should have seen these glasses he was wearing last time. They were huge, and yellow tinted; like Tony Stark would wear. They were so ridiculous."

Colt snickered for a moment, enjoying mocking Tom with his sister, before realizing that he was currently mad at her. He threw his head back with a subtle groan. "Stop doing that! I'm still mad at you!"

Parker gave her brother a blithe look. "I think you're looking at this all wrong."

"Wrong? What other way should I look at it?" he snarked. "With my eyes closed?"

Resisting the urge to smack him, Parker instead gestured to their instructor, the paintball gun in his hand, and then towards Tom. "You literally get the chance to chase down and shoot, Tom Ryder, bane of your existence or whatever. Shoot him. Think about all the welts and whining and, maybe, if you're lucky, the tears you can get out of this experience. Legally. Without getting fired or arrested. What's better than that, huh? It's your very own personal rage room."

Colt considered all of that silently. He swept his gaze from the large pile of paintball guns set off to the side, to the acres of arena in front of them with inflatable obstacles, and then to his blonde alter-ego sulking at the edge of the group.

He slung an arm around Parker's shoulder with the boyish grin. "Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

Parker snorted, amused by his mood swings. "Not nearly enough. It's all Jody this, and Jody that anymore."

Jody, having finished listening to the instructor's demonstration, peered around Colt's shoulder to blink at the siblings. "What about me?"

Colt and Parker shared a silent look.

"Nothing," she said, whilst he cooed, "just talking about how pretty you are."

Jody blushed a bright rouge instantly, and Colt obviously took pleasure in that when he slung his other arm around her shoulder. Taking a deep breath, he let out a happy sigh. "My two ladies. Paintball. The smell of tears and blood on the horizon. What better way to spend a birthday?"

Parker glanced at Jody, expecting her to roll her eyes, but the camerawoman instead just smiled with something soft in her eyes.

Parker responded by wiggling out of Colt's reach. "Ew, blegh, that's disgusting. They say cooties are contagious you know."

"What on Earth are cooties?" Jody asked.

"An STD," Colt replied, only half joking, and though Jody appeared mildly disturbed by his joke, Parker had known her brother long enough to appreciate his odd ball sense of humor. "And they're not contagious if you have a shot."

Jody, not wanting to know if he was serious or not, let it go as the group slowly filed forward to get their guns, face masks, and coveralls. They followed shortly after, snickering like kids the entire way through.

In the end, Colt and Jody both got white, while Parker and Tom were given black ones.

Karma, she supposed, is that she wouldn't be able to shoot the asshole after all.

"Somehow, this is a step up for your usual clothes," said asshole chirped, pinching the baggy material hanging at her waist between his forefinger and thumb. Parker swatted him away, only for Jean Claude to bark at her. "Easy, you want to get taken down before the game even starts?"

"Please, you're lucky we're on the same team," Parker teased. He didn't seem to buy it if the blithe look he shot her was anything to go by, and she huffed at him. "I bet I could have gotten the first hit on you if we weren't on the same team. I have mad skills at paintball, Ryder. Seal Team Six type stuff., you don't even know."

Tom rolled his eyes at the same time that Colt reappeared, face mask propped on the top of his head, looking just a tad too comfortable in his onesie. Jody and Dan flanked him, and Parker didn't like their smiles one bit.

"What?" she asked.

"You suck at paintball," Colt egged. "Remember Tallahassee? You were covered in welts for weeks!"

Tom snorted, and Parker considered him the greater threat considering the fact he was standing closer to her than Colt was. She glared at him to state, "I'm not joking. I could literally take you out. Any of you," she added with a stern point of the finger sweeping through the group. "All of you!"

Not a single person believed her.

Tom went so far as to snicker at her. "I don't buy that. for a second. You're a total klutz."

She gasped. "Am not!"

Colt raised a hand. "Are too. Remember when you broke your ankle trying to play hopscotch?"

"Just—stay out of this!"

He did not, in fact, stay out of it. "What was it you said, Park? Cause and effect? You suck at sports, and the effect of that, is you're about to go down on the course."

She blew a rather wet raspberry at her brother. "Please, if you and Tom were on the same team, I would smoke both of you."

They bickered for a moment, amusing some, but boring Tom, and the A-lister broke up their argument with a long-weary sigh. "Oi! Whose to say either of you could get a shot on me?" he taunted.

The siblings turned to face him.

"Is that a challenge?" Parker asked, hands planted on her hips, whilst Colt raised his brows.

Tom shrugged, unconcerned.

"In fact, I bet I'll make it a whole round without getting shot once," Tom tacked on, ego puffing his chest out as he smirked at the group standing around. Dan rolled his eyes, while Jody coughed into her hand to hide an obvious laugh at his showboating. "I'm serious. First one to hit me gets five hundred dollars—"

Thwack! Thwack!

Tom gaped at his chest, now dotted with one yellow and one blue splatter. Parker and Colt stood in front of him, guns still smoking, and while his eyes widened in anger, the pair of siblings were more concerned with claiming the prize to notice.

"First!" Colt cried.

"What? No fucking way," Parker argued. She waved at the yellow paint splatter haphazardly, almost taking out Jody as she did so. "I was so first. Tom! Tell him!"

Tom, now even more unamused by their bickering, blinked in wide-eyed disbelief at them both. "Are you fucking serious?" he shouted. "The game didn't even start yet!"

"But you just said—"

"I meant during a match. Christ, Parker, we're on the same team," he blustered, attempting to wipe off the paint, but only managing to smear it further down his chest like a bad Jackson Pollock painting. "Fuck!"

Colt, sensing a blow-out was coming, swung his gun behind his back with a wide eyed, innocent look. "Hey man, it was all her," he started. "Totally uncool. And immature. And, really, if you need me to smack her around a little after this I totally can."

Tom glared at Colt, effectively shutting him up in seconds, before turning to Parker. Everyone watched in baited breath, nervous what he might do, and while Parker hadn't been on set long enough to know what his meltdowns looked like, the ones most familiar with Tom were left stunned by his reaction.

Or, really, how utterly tame this one was to the hundred others they had seen.

"Are you happy now?" he asked.

Parker hemmed and hawed for a moment before deciding that honesty was the best policy. "I mean, I'd be happier if you gave me my five hundred dollars."

"I'm not paying you shit."

"Oh, come on," she rolled her eyes, popping a hip as she did so. "It's not like you're cash poor or anything. You're just upset that I shot you."

Tom gaped at her in disbelief. "No shit!"

Parker, shifting her gun over her shoulder, waved the other at him blithely. "You'll get over it once the game starts. It's—heh—surprisingly therapeutic."

"Shooting me is therapeutic?"

She paused, caught up in her own statement. "Er, well, not you exactly. Just someone, in general, you know." Parker swallowed when Tom continued to stare at her. Awkwardly, she laughed. "Just... wait till you get out there, and you'll see."

Tom remained silent, blinking at her for a long, tense, moment before he rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh. And—

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

His gun went off before anyone could stop him, and Parker gaped at the trio of yellow paint that was now splattered across her chest. "Fucking ow!"

Tom smirked at her, blowing the muzzle of his gun for extra flare, before swinging it over his shoulder. "Huh. I guess you're right. I do feel better."

"Asshole!"

"Yeah, well, takes one to know one, right?" he snarked.

And—oh.

She could kill him. Really, seriously kill him.

But, well, the longer she stared at him and he stared at her, eyebrow cocked and a daring smirk in place, Parker realized above the hatred simmering in her chest, she felt something kindred and wanting flutter like butterflies. Something amused by the curve of his smirk, flushed by the scorching burn of his gaze, and—dare she think—understanding at the retaliatory strike. She had, afterall, shot first.

He had only lowered himself to her level; played by her rules.

And with a strong suspicion that Tom Ryder wasn't so much an asshole as he was just looking for someone to understand him, Parker's only response to that was to throw her head back and howl in laughter.

Despite this, no one else moved for a long moment, too busy darting their gazes between Parker and Tom in case they needed to intervene, but in an even more surprising turn of events, he laughed as well. Not so outright, and not nearly as loud, but he did. Prompted by his positive reaction, it wasn't long before Colt started to laugh, and then Jody, and then suddenly everyone was knelt at the waist in laughter.

It wasn't until their instructor honked a blow horn at them, none too amused with the pre-game warfare, that they calmed down. He honked the horn a second time at Parker and Tom, threatening to kick them out if they kept breaking the rules, and while they managed to stay straight-faced, the moment he turned his back on the group, they shared matching grins.

Maybe, she thought as they got into place, it hadn't been such a bad idea to bring him along.

And maybe, her brother thought at the exact same time, Parker and Tom being friends wasn't the end of the world.

[idyllcy]

from one admirer to another : poached

pairing: leon kennedy x reader || masterpost: from one admirer to another

synopsis: from one admirer to another, an online penpal service, allows for two people with common interests to write to each other without ever revealing their actual address! Luckily for both you and Leon, you get matched up! What do eggs and Christmas even have in common anyway? sure hope it's that modeling business and NOT that Ada Wong addiction.

Dearest beloved,

sol de mi vida, corazón de mi alma, Je t'aime.

I don't think it takes a genius to know when a fool is in love, so it comes as no surprise that I'm in love with you. We've been on a handful of dates since we first met, and I think I've only grown fonder of you. There is just something so beautiful about you. You claim that you're plain compared to your friends, but I think they'd agree with me if I told them that you really aren't. You're lovely, and dare I say it, you're much more vibrant than the rest of them.

What use are stars if the sun shines the brightest?

Thank you for your sweet surprise when it was announced that I would be taking the position of supermodel as well. You really didn't need to gather my friends to celebrate, but I'm thankful you did it nonetheless. I understand how you might be annoyed that you'd have to move from Raccoon with me if you do, but I like to think that you're excited for a new adventure. I know you were excited to finally void that modeling contract with our agency. I look forward to what wonders you bring now that you are free from the contract.

I think I've changed a lot since I first met you. Of course, I've aged, but alongside that, I find that rather than Ada's biggest fan, I've become your biggest fan. I love seeing photos you take of me while out on a date, and I love reading bits and pieces of your writing, your letters a common pastime of mine now. You write beautifully, you know that? Though, despite your wonderful words, you yourself are still much more lovely. I fear there will never be another that is as wonderful as you are.

I've grown better with my own words too. I find that it's much easier to write like this to you now. I love you a lot. Do you know that? I love you just as naturally as I breathe, and I love you just as happily as anyone could. You are worth so much, and you are so wonderful, you know? I love you so much. I think I never could quite be as in love like this ever again.

I must have been the luckiest guy in the world when two and two clicked and it was revealed that you were the one I was pining after the whole time. I'm sure it was visible on my face when you had written that letter. My manager scrapped the no-dating clause almost immediately when I brought it up. "It's good for your image to be in love" or something. Do you agree? I do. I think it suits me to be in love with you. There is no other situation I would rather be in, and there is no other kind of love I could ever experience like this now that it has come to this.

So, in the same fashion that we started, I love you. Will you do the honors and go out with me? It would make me most happy.

eternally your admirer, Leon S Kennedy

Leon's nervous to mail the letter out.

The boxes in his place have grown over the weeks, and plenty of carefully packaged items. Sunshine's too large for a cage now, so he's stuck in the front seat of a minivan that you help him load up, ruffling his fur as you tell him to stay put for Leon.

He's sure if he really wanted to, his agent could have found a way to move him the same way they moved Ada, but he doesn't want to leave anything behind. He's over the vast majority of his past, and Raccoon City had been a nice period of his life.

In your words, he's ready to move on to bigger things.

"Are these the last ones?"

"You know, you could move with me." Leon offers, tilting his head as you reach up to pinch his cheek. "My bed is big enough for us both."

"Flattered, Leon, but not yet." You hum. "I'll see you in a bit. I promise."

He huffs, pouting as you give his hands a good squeeze.

"Promise to write to me?"

"I have your address. Of course I will." You hum. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too." He leans down with a pout, and you thread your fingers through his hair, ruffling it. "Love you."

You send him off with a pretty smile and a wave in his rearview mirror.

prev post : masterlist : next letter

[agoracactus]

Golden Crush - Heimdall

i just have to write something since i saw that one beautiful pic of heimdall reading, i dont have the pic nor do i remember which lovely ppl posted that sorry

also merry christmas!!

also's also idk whats wrong with me having the urge to write every time when its super late and my eyes half closed fml

Pairing: Heimdall x reader

Word count: 1545

Warning: no proofread goodnight!

<Your POV>

He's the most beautiful god you've ever seen.

You're not sure how you started to feel this way, but it's too late now- not like you're looking to change your mind anyways.

You love staying away and stealing glances when he's around, knowing he's either feeling bored, or enjoying belittling someone, or trying to impress the All-father. You tell yourself this works out perfectly- having a crush on a god with a stick up his ass that absolutely no one likes- means you won't fall in love with him. You don't need to fall in love, there are things far more important like, life, and living one.

You were tasked to clean up Odin's hall that afternoon when everyone was out training. So you went, pushed open the heavy door with your back, with your arms full with a half-filled bucket, a rug and a broom, humming a tune you made up.

You froze when you saw him sitting by one of the tables, reading.

The golden sunlight poured in and he bathed in it. You watched his braids shimmering in the light with his slight movements, purple eyes focusing on the pages, slender fingers breaking a piece of cheese next to him and gently pushing it between his thin lips-

"Ahem."

You blinked.

Those eyes were looking right at you.

"These tables aren't going to clean themselves." he had a slight frown on his face.

" -! Yes, sorry." you quickly averted your gaze and rushed to the tables furthest away from him, flustered.

Did you stare for too long? How long? Did he get a read on you? Did he know?

Your mind was such a mess that you didn't even know if you were doing your job right. You tried to focus on what you were doing with your back turned towards him, but you couldn't help but feel the burn on your back.

You didn't know if you want to take as long as possible to clean this side of the table- risking him putting his attention on you and getting scolded again, or getting it done as soon as you can- and move on to the table he's sitting at and risk getting his attention again. But all cleaning has to come to an end.

You squeezed the cloth dry and took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself to move on to the table he was at. You turned around- someone was standing right behind you.

Water in the bucket splashed out with your sudden stopping, drenching your shirt.

He of course was right out of the zone of dirty cloth water.

"Indolent and clumsy, tell me, who decided that it would be wise to let you clean for the All-father?" he took a disgusted glance at the dirty puddle at your feet.

"I, I'm sorry..." You panicked, quickly kneeled down to clean up the mess you made. He crouched down, watched for a second, then snatched your wrist. You weren't sure what was the purpose of that, did you do something wrong again?

Before you could form a reaction, he suddenly leaned in and pressed his lips upon yours.

Your eyes widen, frozen in place, staring back at those sparkly purple eyes.

<Heimdall's POV>

At first, it was simply curiosity.

He was passing through the training ground, and felt something different. He had to do another glance-around to figure out where it came from, then saw you quickly turned away.

He wasn't sure what it was. Usually people's intentions towards him were very clear, it's either fear, frustration, jealousy or any sort of hostility. This was something new.

He started doing his own little experiments. Taking paths he didn't normally take, engaging in activities he didn't have to take part in, putting himself in the center of the attention, or hiding away in the corner... Then he was finally confident to come to the conclusion that you only have that weird emotion when he's around, and you only react to him.

Of course he had read it before, sometimes from teenagers hiding away in the back side of the houses, sometimes in the hall between some einherjars... Never towards him. Which intrigued him even more.

He felt your presence immediately when you pushed your way into the hall. He felt you staring. And somehow it became very hard to suppress a smile. He couldn't pay attention to what he was reading anymore, instead he kept listening to what you were doing. He found himself getting impatient at how slow you were cleaning that one row of tables.

He didn't even fully comprehend what happened when he's been shoved and fell backward onto the ground. He heard you running away and the door of the hall closing behind you.

What went wrong? Did he read you wrong?- No, impossible, he is the God of Foresight, he'll never read anyone wrong. Confusion soon turned into anger. Did you just reject him? How dare you?

He wanted answers. But you were nowhere to be found. For days, he patrolled everywhere he had seen you, but he couldn't find you, not even sense you.

It was at a huge drinking party where he found you- in the corner, serving people.

A sense of success washed over him before he swiftly parted the crowd to stand before you- and the somewhat cheery feeling slid away when he saw your warm smile turned into an awkward grin.

What's the intention he's getting now?

He heard you mumble something before slipping away into the crowd, eyes never meeting his.

And what's this feeling in the pit of his stomach?

<Your POV>

You've been avoiding him since the day he kissed you.

You still weren't sure what happened, a part of you thought it was all just a dream. Perhaps you thought about him too often. It couldn't have been true, no, it would be more likely that you approached him and assaulted him... On second thought, it could be exactly that. You took advantage of the Asier god and twisted the memory in your head...

Most likely he already knew your feelings towards him. That's why. He's always been a jerk, he just wanna make fun of you. Or perhaps you did something and that's his way of punishing you?...

Either way, it's better that you keep your distance.

It took you a lot of effort to stay out of the way. You saw him showing up at all the places you had to be, and had to take a hard turn and duck out of his sight. But you couldn't run forever.

You found him outside, at the back of the drinking hall, drunk.

It got you worried because he was never drunk. But he was, here, slouching against the wall.

"...Heimdall?" you approached carefully.

"...Look who's here," he raised his empty mug, "Pour me another drink!"

"You're quite drunk." you tried to take his mug away. "Aren't you here to serve? Serve!" he raised his voice, swatting your hand away.

You stood there, staring at him.

"...What is that?..." he squinted his eyes, "Is that pity?... How dare you..." he tried to stand upright, but the moment he left the support of the wall he started leaning right. You quickly step forward, held onto his arm, and helped him lean back against the wall.

"...How dare you change your mind..." he mumbled. "I'm sorry?" you gently took the mug from his hand. "You!" he frowned, "Don't you like me?"

You nervously gripped the mug with both of your hands, "...So you do know..." eyes fixed on the rim of the empty mug, "...Did you, kiss me just to mock me?"

"..."

You waited, but there's no response. You raised your gaze and met those purple eyes.

"...Your eyes are beautiful." he said, almost in a whisper.

"...What?"

"...Don't change it." he took a step towards you, wobbly. "...Change what?" "What you feel, towards me." he leaned forward, putting his arms around you, "It's quite nice..." resting his head on your shoulder, "...And stop running..." his words ended up slurred. You froze, feeling his weight on you.

"...Heimdall?"

No response.

He already fell asleep, standing.

<Morning>

You woke up with a pleasant sigh, eyes closed, feeling the warmth of the sun caressing your face, hearing the chirp outside the window

And a low chuckle.

Your eyes shot open.

The Aesir god was laying next to you, one arm supporting his head. The morning sunlight gently fell upon him, on his golden braids, his perfect skin, leaving sparkles in his purple eyes.

"Mornin' sunshine."

...Is this a dream?

"Who knew y/n would seduce a drunken god-"

Your hands reacted faster than your thoughts, pressing firmly over his mouth, "Nothing happened! You fell asleep! I can't just leave you there!" you quickly explained.

"Tell yourself whatever you want." he gently pulled your hands down, "It's too late now."

"...What?" you couldn't take your eyes off of him, as he was bathing in the swirling golden particles.

"I will let the whole Asgard know, that y/n got me drunk to lay with me." "-! That's not true! I-" He smirked, gave you a soft kiss on your forehead.

He whispered against your skin, "Now you can never run away from me."

[maracujatangerine]

The Gift Exchange

CW: institutionalised slavery, pet whump, dehumanisation

“Miss Lydia, Miss Lydia, what do you think about this?.”

Coriander jogged into the kitchen, brandishing a roll of wrapping paper patterned with abstract swirls in silver and dark green. The silver accents glittered in the pale winter morning sunlight falling in through the windows.

“It is really pretty!” Miss Lydia smiled, brown eyes warm. “Good choice, Cory!”

The blonde pet ducked his head, but smiled back from underneath his bangs. He wore a soft, green sweater with leather patches on the elbows that matched his chestnut trousers.

Lydia was dressed in a dark grey, knitted dress with red leggings. She leaned over the table to move the pot with the red and white amaryllis out of the way.

“Should we wrap everything into one present, or should we wrap each gift separately, do you think?”

“T-this pet thinks we should w-wrap one gift for Colton and one for Linden, b-but that all their gifts can be wrapped together.”

“That’s a good idea, let’s do that.”

Coriander spread out several seed packages on the table and studied them thoughtfully. Closest to Lydia was a packet with a picture of lush, green sugar snap peas labelled: ‘Mangetout, pea seeds 'Norli' ORGANIC’. Then, there were two packets both marked ‘Thunbergia alata, Black-eyed Susan’, the first one called ‘African Sunset’ in shades of red and apricot, the second one ‘Alba Oculata’ in brilliant white. The final was a handwritten envelope simply marked in Cory’s neat handwriting: ‘Chili, mix’.

“Are you happy with those seeds?”

“Y-yes, Miss Lydia. C-Colton will be able to grow them on the balcony, and i-it will be fun that we both can try to grow the same seeds. P-perhaps we can compare notes.”

Cory gathered the seed packets and tied them together with a neat red bow. Meanwhile, Lydia grabbed a hardback book. The blue dust jacket had brightly coloured leaves scattered all over the cover. The title stood out in bright white: When we were birds, by Ayanna Lloyd Banwo.

Opening the book, she wrote on the inside of the cover. ‘To Linden. Merry Christmas and best wishes for the new year.’ Signing it, she handed it over to Coriander to add his name too.

“‘It is a bit of a risky gift,” she admitted to Cory, “since I haven’t read the book yet, but it seems so good. I got a copy for myself too, and I hope I will get the chance to read it over the holidays.”

They added two bags of homemade butterscotch candy in green paper cups, and two reused milk cartoons filled with gingerbread cookies, the result of last night’s baking spree.

Lydia and Cory put their joint efforts into wrapping the gifts into two neat packages. The dark, red ribbon a nice contrast to the green and silver wrapping paper.

“Let’s go for a walk and send it off this afternoon.” Coriander nodded.

“Y-yes, Miss Lydia.”

*

Linden wiggled the pen between his thumb and index finger, deep in thought. Leaning back in his kitchen chair, he looked over at Colton, who was working diligently at the end of the table. With wholly unbroken concentration, he was pulling strips of sellotape from the dispenser and sticking them in a neat row along the table’s wooden edge. When Linden had done the altogether far more fiddly task of wrapping a gift up, Col could pluck a pre-cut piece of tape and stick it in place. It was, as Linden had said about fifty times, excellent teamwork.

“Hey, Col, have you ever seen this before?” Linden asked, lifting his hand for Col to see. With the pen held right in its middle, Linden wiggled it gently, until it looked as if the pen was bending at the edges.

Col’s eyebrows twitched, and for a beautiful second Linden thought he was going to burst out laughing. Instead, his mouth curved upwards into a tiny smile. “Yes, Sir. I have.”

“Ah, not too impressive then. Haha, no matter.”

“Do you need any tape for the envelope, Sir?” Col asked, eyeing the Christmas card laid out in front of Linden.

“In a second… I’m just trying to figure something out.”

“Ah, okay, Sir.”

Col took another breath, as if to speak, then stopped himself. Linden prided himself on reading Col well enough by now to know that it was because he wanted to ask a question. Probably what are you trying to figure out?

“I’ve written my part of Lydia and Cory’s card, but I’m not sure how to do yours. I’m not going to make you try and hold a pen. I was thinking - do you want to just dictate it? It doesn’t have to be much, just a little festive greeting sort of thing. I can be your text-to-speech robot.”

Linden was always cheery around Christmas time. Something about winter setting in, dark and long and rainy, and then being cut through by glittering lights, gifts and music. Today, he felt like he was on a veritable warpath to make Col smile.

“That sounds good, Sir… I can do that.”

“Great!” Linden said, overjoyed that Colton hadn’t taken issue with the idea of ‘dictating’ something to his owner, hadn’t overthought any possible rule-breaking that could come with speaking and forcing his Master to write it all down. “And instead of you signing the card the normal way, I thought you could do a fingerprint?”

“That’s a good idea, Sir, thank you for c-”

“Wait, no!” Linden said, making Col flinch. “Sorry, I’m sorry love. I just realised. We’ll both do our fingerprints. That’ll be nice. Then we’re the same.”

There it was again, the coveted half-smile. Col’s cheeks glowed. “Thank you, Sir, that’s really kind. I think- I, uh…”

“Go on,” Linden said warmly. “I want to hear what you think.”

“I think Lydia and Cory will like that, Sir.”

“I agree. Now, here’s what I’ve written.”

Linden pushed the card over. He’d written a short message making light of the strange way they first crossed paths, saying how glad he now was to know the both of them, wishing them a peaceful and happy holiday. He waited patiently as Colton gave his message some thought, then wrote it down exactly as dictated on the left hand side of the card.

Linden found some stamp ink in the back of a drawer, and the two of them rolled their index fingers in it until they could leave two bold prints, one below each message.

Once the card was sealed, it was time for the gifts. Lydia’s gift was a specially-made book embosser, which had EX LIBRIS - LYDIA WINTERTHORPE printed onto it. The embosser itself was a satisfying, weighty thing, and Linden hoped she’d get great pleasure out of stamping all of her most beloved books.

Cory’s gift was also a bespoke item: a brass door sign with his name, Coriander, printed on it. It had ornate rounded corners which gave the thing a rustic, rather stately look, and although Linden had never seen Lydia’s house he guessed it would fit right in. He had run the gift idea past Col first - would a pet such as Cory be okay with claiming the bedroom as his in this way? Col had given it a fair share of thought, ultimately telling Linden, in a way that sounded more like a sinful confession, that Cory would like it very much.

The two men performed their well-honed wrapping ritual, with Col sticking down the final piece of tape with a flourish.

*

This is a collaboration between @whumpzone and @maracujatangerine.

We would like to wish you all a Merry Christmas!

*

Tag List Part 1: @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-em @wh-wh-whu @neuro-whump @carnagecardinal @cowboy-anon @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @haro-whumps @eatyourdamnpears @bloodsweatandpotato @pinkraindropsfell @whumptywhumpdump @theydy-cringeworthy @whump-in-progress @whumpsy-daisy @nicolepascaline @whumpcreations @briars7 @shiningstarofwinter @whumppsychology @alex-ember @miss-kitty-whumptastic @whumpy-writings @in-patient-princess @youtube-fandoms-bands @goblinchildindabog @mazeish @distinctlywhumpthing @inpainandsuffering @canniboylism @icannotweave @incoherent-introspection @kim-poce @broken-typewriter @the-monarch-whumperfly @whumpers-inc @grizzlie70 @lil-whumper @writingbackwards-blog @sunflower1000 @wingedwhump @thecitythatdoesntsleep @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @onlybadendings @rabass @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning

[steddie-island]

For A Good Cause

@steddiemas day 19: Steddie as parents | WC: 1562 | Rating: G Read full list of tags on ao3

It’s for a good cause. It’s for a good cause. Do it for Claudia, it’s for a good cause.

Eddie had been repeating that to himself for two weeks. It was the only thing that got him through not only wearing the stifling red suit and beard but through the parade of kids. Sure, some were well-behaved, but then some were throwing a tantrum and others were terrified– he blamed it on the beard and not on the ring through Santa’s nose.

He was starting to question whether this was worth making Claudia happy, though, as he took a break to untangle a candy cane from his beard– and not for the first time. “They’ll never end, man. One wave leaves, another comes through five minutes later.” Jeff adjusted his prosthetic elf ears and put his hands on his hips. “Why are we doing this again?” “‘Cause Claudia asked us to and we can’t tell her no.” Eddie adjusted the fake belly beneath his shirt. “Because she’s a fucking angel who cooks for us.” Gareth kicked his legs where he sat perched up on the counter. “You mean you can’t tell Claudia no, and you asked us and we can’t tell you no.” Eddie grabbed scissors to cut the piece of candy cane out– he would just have to style around it, there was no untangling the sticky mess from whatever material the beard was made from. “Because you know I’ll kill you,” he said, grinning. 

Gareth flipped him off. “C’mon, Santa. Your adoring crowd awaits.”

The day only got worse from there. A set of twins threw a fit as their parents made them both see Santa at the same time– Eddie still wasn’t sure if they were mad that they didn’t each get their own turn or if they didn’t want to be there at all. Another kid pulled his beard down to reveal the fact that he wasn’t really Santa, which sent the next several kids in line into meltdowns that Eddie had to try to fix. 

With how busy they were the day should have passed by in a blur, but each kid just seemed to make the seconds drag out longer and longer. When they finally got through the last kid in line, Eddie was sticky and tired and beyond ready to go home. “That’s a wrap, folks,” he said as he stood and flipped the sign around to read “Santa is out” in Christmas red glitter. “Thank god.” Jeff shook his head and moved to remove his ears. “This was the longest fucking day of my life.” “Of your life? Did you have any kids sneeze directly on you?” Eddie asked. “No, I don’t think so. You had it easy. But now we can kick back, relax, and–” “Wait!” Eddie looked towards the voice and groaned softly. A man with chestnut hair was practically sprinting across the mall with a puffy pink bundle in his arms. “Wait, don’t leave–” “Oh, shit.” Jeff snapped his ears back into place as the man got closer. “Listen, buddy, Santa’s already out for the night, you’ll have to come back.” “Please, we’ve been to three other stores and all of the Santas were gone for the night,” he begged. “I promised that we would get to see Santa today. You wouldn’t make me break my promise to a kid, right?” Eddie had to give it to the guy, he knew how to play on the heartstrings. He turned with a sigh and stopped– he hadn’t been able to tell from far away, but the man was fucking beautiful. He had beautiful golden skin dotted with moles that Eddie found himself very much wanting to map like goddamn constellations, the warmest brown eyes made even bigger by the round frame glasses. 

The guy was talking to him. Eddie could see those beautiful lips moving, the guy was looking at him, clearly he was addressing Eddie, who had been so busy staring that he hadn’t processed a single goddamn word in at least the last thirty seconds. “Huh?” he asked. The man smiled a little and gestured to the pink bundle– which had moved and pushed her hood down, revealing those same wide eyes, looking at him with all the hope in the world. “Think you can squeeze one more kid in? I would owe you big time…” God, that crooked smile was like a punch to Eddie’s stomach. He would burn the mall down if he could get another smile like that. Eddie adjusted his hat, turned on his heel, and walked back to the throne. “What kind of Santa would I be if I said no to a request like that? Let them through!” Gareth watched Eddie with confusion and then delight. “Right this way!” he said, and he moved the velvet rope so the little girl could be carried through. 

Her big eyes glowed with wonder as she took in the glittering piles of snow and the decorated trees that were set up behind the throne. “Daddy, so p’etty,” she said. Her gloved hands, which had been clinging to her dad’s shirt, loosened up, and she began squirming in his arms. “Down, Daddy, I wanna see Santa!” “Okay, okay!” He laughed and put her down, so she could do the toddler run the rest of the way to the chair. “Hello, little girl!” Eddie said with his big, booming Santa voice as he helped her up onto his lap. “I’m so glad you made it! I was waiting around just for you!” “You were?” she asked, awed – though her r made more of a w sound. “Yous not the weal Santa, how did you know?” “You bet I was!” Eddie smiled at her, then up at her dad. “Has your dad here explained how mall Santas work?” When she nodded her head, making her little pigtails bounce, he smiled all the wider. “Then you know I’m not the real Santa, but I work for the real Santa. And he told me that a pretty little girl and her handsome daddy were going to be a little late, but that I needed to stick around because that little girl is on the nice list.” She gasped. “I am?” “What’s your name?” Eddie asked her. “Ashwey Hawwington,” she said. “And hims my daddy, Steve.” It sounded more like Steef, the way she said it. “Then yes, I was waiting for you!” Eddie booped her nose with his finger, making her giggle. “The real Santa told me that you’ve been a very good girl this year. Is he right?” “Yes!” Ashley nodded enthusiastically. “I was vewy good.” “Is that right, dad?” Eddie turned to Steve, who looked like he was ready to melt as he watched them. “Yeah.” Steve rested his hands on his hips and gave a warm smile. “She’s been a really good girl this year.” 

“See? I towd you.” Ashley wiggled excitedly. “So Santa’s gonna bwing me a pwesent?” she asked. “It sounds like it!” Eddie smiled at her. “Why don’t you tell me what you want, and I’ll make sure Santa knows about it?”

Her face lit up and she clapped her hands. “I want a kitty!” “A kitty?” Eddie looked towards Steve again for a moment. “Have you been good enough to get a kitty?” “Yeah!” she said. “I only weaved my toys out a few times, an I didn’t cwy when Daddy taked me to school. I was good!” Eddie and Steve laughed together at her insistence. “We’ll make sure Santa knows, okay?” 

“Okay.” She hugged him tight, then made to wriggle out of his arms. “Wait– don’t you have something to say to Santa?” Steve asked. “And don’t you want a picture?” “Oh yeah!” Ashley grinned wide at where Jeff held the camera. Eddie wasn’t sure what was more precious, the gap on the bottom row of her teeth, the way her parka absolutely swallowed her up, or the way Steve watched her with clear adoration on his face. 

Picture taken and candy cane given, Ashley hugged Eddie and gave a rushed “thank you!” before running back to her daddy. Steve scooped her up and smiled at Eddie again. “Uh– thanks. You made her night,” he said. “I was happy to do it.” Eddie smiled at her as she tore into the candy cane wrapper. “It’s not often I get a direct request like that from the big guy up north.” 

Steve grinned and adjusted his grip on Ashley. “I guess me and the big guy both owe you one.” He reached out, offering Eddie his hand to shake. “Maybe I can make it up to you sometime.” Eddie gave his hand a quick shake, and when the handshake broke he was left with a scrap of paper in his palm. “See you around, Santa.” Steve winked, turned, and made his way towards the mall entrance. Eddie was so busy watching Steve leave (and, frankly, having thoughts that would get him put on the naughty list) that he nearly forgot about the paper. When he unfolded it, there was a phone number and Steve. It had clearly been written hastily– Eddie wasn’t even sure when he’d stopped watching Ashley long enough to write it at all. 

“What’s that?” Jeff asked. Eddie tucked the slip of paper away and headed for the backroom. “My Christmas bonus.” 

Dividers and banner by @cafekitsune ❤️

[chimivx]

ghosting ↠ txt

now playing ↠ pulling teeth • green day

He left you with letters. Envelopes that took you five years to finally read, acknowledge. They take you back through your past, forcing you to make moves not only for yourself, but for your family, for your children… His children.

part five of six ~ masterlist

word count ↠ 6036 warnings ↠ (same for all parts) 18+. mentions of drugs, alcohol, smoking. swearing. explicit sexual content. these people have kids, there’s family talk, pregnancy talk. absent dad, messy family ties. stepsib shit, stepcest. infidelity. if any of these things bother you, please keep scrolling . if i missed anything PLEASE let me know!! a/n ↠ if you are new to this story, don't start here! please go to the masterlist! major thank you to everyone who's read this story. cannot believe it's almost done... <3 xo posted ↠ 6/17/24 ~ 2:50 pm est.

~ february 2024 ~

Sitting on the plush carpet of your mothers living room, a beautiful bouncing baby boy sat between your outstretched legs. Munching on his fingers with a grin on his face, he watched his big brothers as they spun around to the rock music playing from Taehyun’s brand new record player on the glass table in the center of the room.

Across from you, laying on his stomach on the floor with his chin in his hands was Minho, smiling at his cousins trying to dance to the unsteady beat of Nirvana. The kid was almost a month away from turning ten, and though you just saw him a little over a month ago at Christmas right here in this very house, he had seemed to mature so much. He and his father, who sat beside the coffee table to your left, had both got haircuts, and the color of Taehyun’s was back to normal. 

Since Christmas the two of you have been talking more, texting more, letting the kids video call with one another, and things were going really well. The patching up of that relationship, the closure you both gave one another that was ten years overdue was needed, and it had helped immensely. Now you could carry on with a friendship, and be friends, something the two of you struggled with outside of one another.

Amongst the phone calls and messages there was a day spent together without kids, without Soobin, just you and Taehyun. You went for lunch, somewhere quiet in Sicuro knowing damn well you’d be too uncomfortable to go any further or into any other town. Soobin didn’t want you too far either, and you couldn’t blame him. You’d prefer it if he was always within a few miles radius of you anyways.

Over lunch, where the two of you spent hours, you shared conversation like you had over Christmas, dipping into details of life that either of you had shut out, or had been too intoxicated to piece together correctly. Your teenage life was mapped out before you, the two of you with blushing cheeks trying to work out your shared trauma.

The further you delved into the timeline the more you could tell Taehyun was trying his absolute best to stay present. His sober eyes, awake and alert, his chest taking in deep breaths to the slow count of four… Something you knew all too well. With a reassuring nudge of your foot against his underneath the table, he’d smiled, knowing that you were with him, that you were there for him. He wasn’t alone, and you vouched from then on that he never would be.

You’ve healed enough to not hold his past against him, knowing that you yourself were not a perfect person.

He apologized for the summer night at the club years back, appearing teary eyed as he fought the words out of him, every other sentence broken, his eyes finding it near impossible to look into yours. But, he did. He reached for your hand, held it gently, and apologized. And you cried, because he remembered it all. Every detail. Every feeling. He had never told another soul, he had kept it all inside, not even talking about it with the friend you once shared.

The one who turned into the next topic of conversation on hour three of you sitting in the booth in the back of the restaurant.

Things had gone quiet, after the apology was shared and Taehyun had spoken his peace, neither of you knew what to say. 

At Christmas, the letters were given to you, by Taehyun himself. Envelopes you didn’t have the guts to open, but your husband did.

You had told Taehyun very little of what you felt, what you experienced. So you laid everything out there, filling in the blanks for him, telling him how it all went down, how it happened, how you wound up with your beautiful boys who were the light of your life, but beginning to worry you with their behavior. 

And though tears slipped down your cheek while you spoke of your history with him, with Beomgyu, you knew you were where you were meant to be, and you admitted that to Taehyun, the once questionable fate you had succumbed yourself to, and he too agreed, Soobin was where you were meant to be. Something he’s mentioned to you before.

Pieces of past Christmas were funny, some parts making you question whether or not your certainty was correct. It’d been brought up multiple times, from two different mouths, and then, in the end, the bomb had been dropped.

The twins belonged to Beomgyu, he was their father. In your timeline, in your math, he was their father. You never had to question it, you never had to double check, you were certain. However, those many years ago there had been two of them, both boys, and they overlapped before the nights turned into one. You had no reason to question until Christmas, when your twins seemed to take to Taehyun a lot quicker than you and Soobin had anticipated. Even though the boys looked like you, looked like Beomgyu… Taehyun and Beomgyu both had the eyes, the wide, beautiful, galaxy filled, warm brown eyes. And, so did your twins.

After your mother assumed she knew who really fathered the twins, when up until that day she had seemed to believe you when you told her it was Soobin, you knew you needed a definite answer, one on paper. If not for your own confirmation, but for her. To tell her you didn’t have Taehyun’s children while he was married to another woman with two kids of their own. To not give her the satisfaction of being right, like she always wanted to be.

The kids weren’t his, and though you never spoke to her about it after, the need to prove your mother wrong persisted.

It sucked admitting it to Taehyun. It was entirely humiliating to ask him to do what you needed him to do, but he obliged. Quietly, barely uttering any other sound, he understood, and he assured you that you had no reason to be ashamed. Even he was sure that the boys weren’t his, though his thoughts were somewhat swayed over the holiday weekend because of his step-mother.

That evening after spending an incredulous amount of time out with him, he accompanied you back home where he spent a few more hours with you, Soobin and the kids, Mina sitting on his lap while he filled out some paperwork and swabbed the inside of his cheek. His kids were with Sana, the two still sorting out custody and dealing with judges and court dates.

Within the single evening he spent with your family, Soobin’s opinion of Taehyun had changed entirely, and by the end of it all he even walked him out to his car, leaving him with information and details on how to handle his situation, details you couldn’t even begin to understand. Details you wondered if you’d ever have to deal with…

Sitting here on the floor of the house you grew up in, with your kids giggling up a storm, and a piece of paper folded up in your back pocket, those same thoughts still lived in your mind. Custody, judges, court. A month later and he was still living it. Sana was relentless, she’d never give up.

Especially since over lunch that day Taehyun had told you that she’d found out about you. All of you. The time you shared. All of it, and that she had known for a long time, before divorce was even an option. Aside from the love affair you shared for half of your life, he very blatantly had cheated on her and had been content getting away with it until he grew the balls to file. It went without saying that Sana was pretty content with him getting away with it as well, as long as Taehyun kept bringing home the paychecks.

Now that they were divorced, and she was only getting a still decently sized cut for child support, she had the ability to keep the kids away from him, possibly for a very long time since she knows he’s currently fighting to stay sober. Another reason tacked onto the never ending reasons to despise Sana list.

Leaning backward, toppling onto your thighs, Wonwoo smiled up at you and cooed, his tiny hands reaching upward. Folding in half, covering him completely, you smother his cheeks with kisses and giggle along with him, the sound echoing through the room over the music. One of the twins whipped around, Chan, and dropped to his knees between your legs, one of his joints landing straight on top of your own.

Your gasp of pain, which was really just a reaction to the collision, and the way you gripped your knee over your jeans made Chan freeze for only a moment. Placing a hand over yours he scooted closer to you.

“Sorry, Mama,” he said, studying your expression, searching for the right answer. It was an accident, truly. He knew this, you knew this. Over the last few months however, these accidents have been more frequent. Keeping track of them all, keeping in mind that he was only a five year old boy, the moments of outbursts, tantrums, and accidents like this- happening to more than just you- have been too many to count.

His brown eyes, wide, waiting for you to say something, they made you gulp. Pulling Wonwoo into your arms, situating him over your left side, you nodded at your son and took his hand into your own. “It’s okay, it was an accident, right?”

“Right,” Chan said, his gaze traveling to his brother on your hip chewing on his fingers. “Can Wonwoo play?” He bounced on his knees, brushing his hair out of his eyes. It was too long, he needed it cut, both twins did. The usually straight, thick dark locks were nearing their shoulders, edging the base of their neck. The longer their hair got, and the older they grew, the more it seemed to wave at the ends. Covering their ears, bangs teasing their lashes… You didn’t have the heart to cut it off.

You hadn’t seen him in years, and yet here he was, sitting in front of you.

“Wonwoo can’t play right now,” you said, tucking some of Chan's hair behind his ear, smiling as he shied under your touch. 

Scooching closer to you he sat on your other thigh, cradling his chin in his hands as he watched his little brother. “Why?” 

“Because he’s getting sleepy, it’s almost time for him to go to bed.” From your left you could feel Taehyun’s eyes on you.

Chan stared at the baby. His gaze unresponsive for all of two seconds. “But he can play at home?”

You gave him a smile, placing a hand gently on his back. “He can play at home, you do big kid things here, he isn’t a big kid yet. At home Daddy and Mama can watch you with him, but there’s so much going on here.” Your five year old thought to himself, still eyeing Wonwoo content on your side, not an ounce of eye contact made before he spoke again.

“But, why?”

“Hey, Chan,” Taehyun’s clear, deep voice called over to your son, his little head lifting to look over at his uncle sitting criss-cross on the carpet. “C’mere.” He waved a hand toward himself, Chan leaping off of your leg with a shout, running toward him.

Groaning, you started, “Tae, hold out your-”

But, your warning was cut short with another shout, a high pitched shriek startling Wonwoo. Chan jumped onto Taehyun, and, maybe it was dad reflexes, but he caught him. Pulling him into his chest, holding him tight, rocking him back and forth as they laughed, your step-brother shot you a look over the little one's shoulder.

“Hey, I want to play!” With folded arms Sunoo watched his brother and uncle. The smallest pout was forming on his lips. Taehyun smiled at him and waved another hand, shifting Chan over to one side, catching Sunoo with his other side as the child launched himself at him. Between laughing fits, you caught Taehyun’s eye once more, the two of you sharing a smile.

“Minnie?” Taehyun questioned, glancing at his son who watched him as well, entertained by the children attempting to tackle his father to the ground. “Wanna take your cousins upstairs?” 

Minho leapt to his feet and sighed, but not with discontent, with preparation for what he was signing himself up for. Taehyun nodded toward him, then with both hands grabbed the collars of the twins' shirts and peeled them off of him. The boys, finding it funnier than anything else in the world, tossed out their little hands trying to either hit Taehyun or grab onto him.

“Minho wants to show you guys something,” he said, dodging flying hands. 

“Boys, we don’t hit,” you spoke up, moving onto your knees, keeping Wonwoo on your hip. Neither twin spared you a moment. “Boys!”

“Go upstairs with him, he has something fun-” 

Chan made contact with Taehyun's cheek, his palm no bigger than half the surface he’d hit. It wasn’t hard, he didn’t hurt him, but he still hit him. Sunoo was the only one to react to the sound, until their father set foot in the room, their little sister propped on his hip.

“Choi Chan!” The sound of Soobin’s raised voice spun them both right around. Taehyun dropped his hands and pulled them into his lap, sending a look your way. Your eyes apologized to him, for the smack and for what was about to happen. These moments of parenting, of reprimanding, of learning, they were becoming a wildcard, so much so that even Soobin was having a hard time figuring out how to deal with them. 

A shit eating grin lived on Chan’s face as he gazed up at his father, one incredibly jarring the first time it made an appearance. Gripping the denim of his jeans, Chan bounced his knees and let out the quietest laugh. Sunoo beside him, the complete opposite.

It would be one thing if both twins were the same, if they both acted the same, and though sometimes they do, in moments like these their ways were completely different, making the parenting, the learning, so much harder.

“I don’t think anyone here found that funny,” Soobin said, his voice returning to a normal volume. Taehyun reached over to the record player, turning the volume down. The movement caught Chan’s attention. “Look at me, please.”

Sunoo was a rock, his brown eyes glued to his father. Chan however, watched Taehyun sit back in his place, and then he bounced on his toes and tried to walk back over to him. Reaching in front of you, you were able to grab onto his wrist and maneuver him back, keeping him where he needed to be. The five year old looked at you, whined, then turned back to Soobin. On his hip in a fuzzy blue footed onesie, Mina pointed at Taehyun and smiled, flashing her gappy little teeth. Her uncle pointed back to her and grinned, subsequently making Chan try to turn again.

“Chan, we don’t hit.” Soobin hadn’t moved an inch.

Your son wriggled his wrist out of your hold. “It was a accident,” he said, looking at you, then Soobin. “A accident.”

“I know you were playing,” Soobin said. “But, I saw you trying to hit Uncle Tae, and then you did.”

Chan clenched his hands into fists and stomped a foot on the ground. Covering one of Wonwoo’s ears you pressed his other against your chest, holding his head there. Even Sunoo knew what was coming after the stamp, he covered his own ears.

“ACCIDENT!” Chan screamed, covering his eyes with his hands, the tears following soon after.

Trying to take one of his hands again, he swatted you away and fell onto his knees. Sighing, Soobin put Mina on her feet and she toddled over to Taehyun, falling into his lap. Your girl wrapped both hands around one of his fingers.

“Soobin, he’s very tired,” you said to your husband quietly as he approached the fallen twin, brushing a hand gently over the hair of Sunoo still standing, hands clamped to his ears. “We’ve been here all day, no nap. That makes it worse.”

Looking at you he crouched down, laying a hand over Chan’s back. He knew what little sleep did to the boys, how it affected their behavior, they were kids. When kids were tired, exhausted even, they tended to misbehave, or throw tantrums such as this one. Chan was different. This type of tantrum happened no matter how tired he was.

Making choices as a parent was possibly the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do in life thus far. Each decision impacted your kids and had an effect on their future and the people they’d grow up to be. With Chan folded over on the floor sobbing into his hands, you weren’t sure whether to let him cry or try to get him to stand back up. Half of you wanted to pick him up and tell him it was okay, just to keep him from feeling upset, but then the other was telling you that there were consequences to his actions and he needed to learn from them.

You know, so he didn’t grow up to be someone who punched holes into walls.

Even then, with how differently his brain worked from other children, how exactly were you supposed to do that?

“Chan, when you’re ready to talk to us we’re right here.” Soobin leveled his eyes on his son, tracing a reassuring circle over his back. At a loss, feeling your own tears seconds away from spilling, you trained your gaze on your husband and took a deep breath. 

His calm, gentle giant-ness was how. He was how you’d make it through, he was how you’ve made it through the last six years. He’d be able to get you through many more.

Behind the twins Minho had snuck over to Taehyun, sitting beside his father and Mina, keeping the two year old occupied. Taehyun bounced her on his knee as she traced Minho’s features with a single finger, her cousin leaning into her with pouted lips. The little girl had such an attention to details even at her small age. You were certain she’d grow up to be as smart as her father.

“Everything okay in here? Where’d my granddaughter go?” Your mothers voice was heard before she was spotted. Soobin, closing his eyes, took a short breath, and you and Taehyun seemed to do the same. Your step-brother held in his laugh, catching a glimpse of Soobin’s dismay.

Turning into the living room with her husband close behind, Joy, dressed in a strapless black jumpsuit that bunched at her ankles, leaving room for her strappy black heels to be tied there, looked over the scene on her floor, then tossed her hands out at her side.

“We’re good, Mom,” you said, grilling her from where you sat. Her tendency to get involved with parenting your children happened more often than the tantrums from the boys. She never had the chance to do it with Taehyun’s kids, so you took the brunt of it all. Another reason to be jealous of Sana.

Jin placed a hand to Joys shoulder and smiled at you, the man knowing how his wife would act. “Let them do their thing.” Joy gasped and whipped around to tap him on the chest of his blue polo.

“Mom,” you sighed, finding that Sunoo was watching them, seeing his grandmother hit his grandfather right after the start of a no-hitting lecture. Joy whirled back around with wide eyes.

“What!” Her laugh made both Taehyun and Minho cringe.

“Just… please, don’t,” you said. Seeming to catch on after scanning the room, Joy pressed her glossy lips together and cocked her chin back. Her eyes landed on the twins, scoped over Soobin’s back, took Taehyun in for a few seconds before she glared at you. For a second her lips parted and your heart sunk through the million dollar floor. “Don’t,” you spat, quickly.

“I’m bringing out the cake,” she muttered, then spun on her toes and led Jin into the kitchen.

At the mention of dessert, Chan poked his head up, his crying having ceased a few moments ago. Sunoo removed his hands from his ears and tilted his head to check on his brother, crouching down like Soobin was. The boy would always try to mirror him.

Subsequently, they both spoke to Chan at once, saying, “Feel better?”

Soobin withheld a smile, but glanced at you before taking his hands around the boy's torso, tugging him onto his lap. Chan curled up, slinging an arm around Soobin’s waist.

“Are you ready to talk?” Soobin asked. Hesitating, it took Chan a few seconds to answer with a head nod. “Can you say the word, please?”

Chan took a breath. “Yes,” he said, voice wobbly.

“It’s okay to be upset,” Soobin kept his focus down, his full attention on his son, no matter how many other people sat in this room. “You’re feeling some really big emotions and I know they’re hard for you to understand right now. Is that right?”

“Yes,” Chan whispered. His eyes found his twin.

“Are you able to tell me what you’re feeling? Can you name your feeling?”

Sunoo said, “Sadness.”

“Sunoo, let Chan answer, okay?” You popped in momentarily, giving the boy a small smile. “That was a really good answer, but let’s hear what your brother wants to name it.”

Soobin didn’t look away from the boy in his arms, not until Chan mumbled, “Anger.”

“Thank you,” Soobin said, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “You’re feeling red, and like you want to yell?” Chan answered with a nod that Soobin allowed. “What happened to make you feel that way?”

Your son hesitated again, this time shrugging his shoulders, mumbling, “I dunno.” Waiting for anything else to come out, Soobin shut his eyes after Chan said, “Because of Daddy.”

“Because I told you not to hit?”

Another nod.

Soobin took a deep breath. “What do you think Daddy felt when he saw you hit Uncle Taehyun? When you know you aren’t supposed to be doing that?” Chan hid his face, muttering something only for Soobin to hear. “Sadness and Anger? Blue and red? How come?” Inaudible mumbles came from your boy. “Right, it’s not okay to hit somebody, and it makes Mama and Daddy upset when you do.” Unburying his face, Chan sat up and rubbed his eyes.

Sunoo put a hand on one of his brother's knees. “I felt Sadness.”

“When I hit?” Chan asked him, and Sunoo bobbed his head. “I am sorry.”

Soobin nudged the boys back. “Go tell who you need to tell.”

Rising to his feet, sniffly as ever, Chan took his time approaching Taehyun’s side, putting a hand gently to his shoulder. Eyes darting around like mad, your son pushed out a quick, “I am sorry I hit you,” and then took two steps backward.

Taehyun, new to the whole idea of how you parent your children, gave Chan a small smile and bowed his head. Chan put his hands over his chest and tilted his head.

“Uncle Taehyun, you say that it’s okay,” Sunoo said, standing to his feet.

Soobin took Sunoo by the hand and shook his head. “Sometimes it doesn’t work that way,” he started, and both twins eyed him curiously, this being the first they’ve heard of the concept. “Sometimes… When we hurt people it affects them, and even though sometimes we say sorry, it doesn’t take away from the fact that we’ve hurt them. Some people will accept your apology, and some people won’t.”

“What if somebody hurts you and they don’t say sorry?” Sunoo asked.

Taehyun met your glance, the power within it blazing hot.

Soobin thought to himself, carefully reading the room, analyzing every energy, old and new. “Then, you have to learn to forgive them yourself, and move on, to heal. Otherwise, you’re stuck with a wound,” he scrunched his nose, “an ouchie, that can hold you back from great things.”

Chan faced Taehyun, his uncle ripping his eyes away from you to look up at him. “Do you accept my… Apology?” The five year old sounded out the word, bobbing his head as he did.

Taehyun seemed to study him, your boy with fluffy hair and sappy eyes. He was about to smile, you could see it ghosting his lips, but he waited, his mouth slightly pulling downward as your boy waited with a patience unknown to his begetter. 

He could see him. 

“I… I do.” Taehyun’s voice was so low it was almost a whisper. “I accept your apology.” He finally smiled, shifting his eyes to you before looking down at Mina gazing up at him.

“She thinks you are pretty,” Sunoo said, getting a laugh out of you, your step-brother and his son. Mina had a habit of staring at things, whether they be right in front of her, on a screen, if she found them enticing.

Soobin let out a harsh, breathy laugh, then stood up with, “No thank you, Sunoo.”

Darting his eyes to Soobin, Taehyun wore a cautious smile, one that grew into fruition, spreading across his cheeks as your husband smiled back, in understanding, a sight you’d never thought you’d live to see.

“Come on,” Soobin held his arms open for Mina who wobbled to her feet and rushed into his fathers hold. The twins stood on alert, eyes full of respect for their father. Once Mina was situated on a hip, her hands grabbing onto Soobin’s t-shirt, he bounced her once and said, “Let’s go sing Happy Birthday to Uncle Tae.”

About an hour after the kids climbed onto Taehyun somehow, scream-sang their birthday song to him, blew out his birthday candles, you found yourself standing around the kitchen island with Soobin and Taehyun. Wonwoo sat on the edge of the counter in front of Soobin, your husband's hands holding his waist while the little one kicked his legs and learned to hold his balance on his own. The other four took off to the second floor, most likely messing with whatever they could find in yours and Taehyun’s old bedrooms.

Jin and Joy were up there with them now, your mother with Mina attached to her hip thankfully, you and Soobin both knowing your two year old would not be left unsupervised with any of the boys. As much as they were airheaded parents, they sure were wonderful grandparents, ever since Rose was born. Even before she was born. Even now that she’s missing her own fathers birthday celebration with his side of the family, cooped up with Sana somewhere down in Avida. They loved her. They loved them all.

Squishing leftover icing on a small ceramic plate on the counter you all stood around, you eyed Taehyun and his full-of-life grin while he spoke with Soobin about Minho and the stuff he’s currently dealing with in school, how fourth grade seemed to be much harder now than it was when the three of you were in elementary school. His eyes sparkled, his eyebrows moved with a calculated ferocity. He was present. He was here, in the room with you, fully.

“Can’t believe you’re thirty-three,” you said once their conversation died down. Taehyun blew a raspberry on his lips and Wonwoo’s head whipped toward him.

“You’re not far behind.” Raising a brow he shot you a look before poking your son's cheek, getting a smile from the little one. 

Smiling at him, you said, “No, I’m not, but at least I’m the last one to get there.” Soobin huffed a laugh, shaking his head. He hit thirty-three first, back in December.

Taehyun gripped the edge of the counter with two hands and cocked his chin backward, in thought, like he was struck with the same realization you were. By the first of April you’d be thirty-three, a while away from the beginning of February, Taehyun’s actual birthday happening last weekend. There was someone meant to fall between you two. The thirteenth of March, the date he’d reach thirty-three, joining Taehyun, leaving you behind.

Soobin’s voice broke through the comfortable silence. “Taehyun, when was the last time you spoke to him?” It was gentle, the question asked in the softest way possible, Soobin’s volume staying within the three feet of space you shared.

Air was knocked from your lungs at the sudden inquiry, not that Soobin never spoke of it before. The two of you planned to ask him, but you weren’t prepared for it to come from your husband's mouth. With one of Wonwoo’s hands wrapped around his finger, Soobin looked at Taehyun with a confidence, one that he’s worn in his eyes since the day he asked you to marry him. One you used to wonder if it was fueled by anything other than pure love.

Taehyun took a long, deep breath, his eyes dancing all over the kitchen. They landed on you for only a second, your own begging him to tell you, to speak to you, to speak to Soobin. It was common for him to shove everything into a box at this point, swallow the pain away, act as if it didn’t have any effect over him. 

But, that was the old Taehyun.

He gulped, sinking into himself for a moment, somehow talking himself out of the hole he was ready to burrow under.

“On my birthday.”

You didn’t mean for your sigh to be as heavy as it was, but it made him close his eyes. “That’s last week.”

He nodded, opening his eyes a bit to stare at the marble under his fingers. “Yeah, he… He called me. But, before then I hadn’t really spoken to him since before Christmas.” He hesitated before adding, “Was nice to hear his voice.”

Clenching your fingers into fists, you brought your bottom lip between your teeth and bit down hard. Across the counter from you Soobin gave you a look so intense it had the power to calm you down without saying a word. With a tiny nod toward your step-brother, Soobin encouraged you to ask him what you needed to ask, tell him what you needed to know. 

“Tae,” you started, voice the smallest it’s ever been. He couldn’t look at you, but he tried. “We… we tried calling him. After you came over that night. Well, it took two days for me to grow the balls to do it.” Soobin nodded along as you spoke, eyebrows pulled to the center of his forehead, feeling everything you were feeling. “We don’t know if he has a new number, or if he was just… busy, because…”

Soobin tilted his head, stretching his free hand across the marble, barely reaching you. Intaking a shaky breath, finding Taehyun's full attention over you, you whispered, “Because I haven’t spoken to him in five years.”

“I know,” Taehyun’s voice was as loud as yours, a whisper, a secret to keep.

“We had a night, after processing a lot,” you nodded with Soobin, the two of you remembering the two days after your outing with your step-brother and how hard it was reliving everything. “And, we decided-”

“You decided,” Soobin cut in for only a moment, always telling you that it would be your choice whether or not to move forward with anything. He’d never let you forget that.

“I decided,” you looked back at Taehyun, “That I… Maybe felt ready to just… contact him and see what happened. Catch up for a second. Check in.”

Whatever emotion struck him across the face was unreadable. “He’s not… No, he can’t. You can’t.” Silence fell. Nobody moved, not even Wonwoo.

Years ago you’d have shouted at him to tell you more, to keep going, to not bottle everything up and keep it to himself. It was the most exhausting way to live, to have nothing but half assed explanations and lazy reasons as to why things were the way that they were. It was his coping mechanism, you’ve learned. He despised confrontation, he’d do anything to avoid being completely honest, because everything hurt him as much as it hurt you.

Now, two grown adults who were no longer sloppy children, you didn’t want to shout. You didn’t want to fight. You also didn’t want to push him away, knowing that if you ever did you’d be putting him back in that horrible place he fought so hard to get out of. So, you waited, for as long as he needed.

And, after a few minutes, Taehyun said, “He doesn’t use his phone, but he has the same number. It’s with Jungkook, all of his stuff is. Up in Soro, he still lives there with Chaeyoung and Tzuyu.”

“Jungkook does,” you clarified, and he nodded. 

“You don’t know anything that’s happened, do you?” His question struck your heart. A sharp, twisting pain you haven’t felt since your twins were born.

Reaching a hand into your back pocket you slid the piece of paper out and unfolded it with shaking hands. Laying it flat on the marble you pointed to a 0% beside the words probable paternity. Taehyun swallowed hard, touching the edge of the paper, sliding it closer to him.

“I know one thing that’s happened,” you said. “And so do you.” He gave you a look, your stomach twisting in knots at the teal-green emotion within his eyes your kids would be able to name. “Thought this would be a nice birthday present.” He attempted to wipe the look off his face, but he was unsuccessful. “Now we know for sure, and if Joy has some shit to say we have proof.”

Soobin didn’t bother to clock your bad word. Not right now.

“Taehyun,” you whispered, eyes darting back and forth between his beautiful brown gaze. “Where is he?”

10/7/2023

…I don’t know why it’s so scary when the scariest part of my life so far has been becoming your dad. Knowing that I was struggling, knowing that I was so unhappy, it was what I had to do. She needed to go back, I know that. There wasn’t anything left for her here, nothing I could give her so she could live her best life. That’s why I admire him so much. Soobin. That’s a good man. That’s the man you need to grow up to be. To step up when a loser rolls over and runs away. To love someone unconditionally. To protect the person you love. It’s something I could never do, I just brought harm. I brought pain, and even when I had the chance to do something about it… I ran away. I don’t want to blame my brain for it, I really don’t, always hated doing that ‘cause it’s not an excuse, but… It’s my life. I know what I’m like, even though I'm not always there. My brother always told me I was really good at being self-aware and suffering because of it. So here I am. Suffering because of it. I’m not saying any of this for pity, because trust me it feels wrong to be writing any of this down. Self-aware. I’m saying this so you know the truth. So you know who I am, who your dad was. In case anything happens, in case I don’t ever get to meet you. I love you both, and I love your mom. I love her so much. Listen to her, listen to Soobin. Take after him, take after the good men in your life. Grow up strong, and smart, and kind hearted. Love your friends, love your family, love yourselves. Do good things, be good. I want nothing more than for you to have the most wonderful life…

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thank you so much for reading. <3

[dovithedarklord]

Age of Monsters - Chapter Fourteen

Pairing: OFC x Simon "Ghost" Riley, OFC x König

Tags: Slow Burn, Slow Build, Enemies to Lovers, Alternate Universe, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, POV First Person, Not Beta Read, Medical Inaccuracies, Military Inaccuracies, AFAB OC

Trigger Warning: The story will contain violance, blood and smut in detail. Please, keep that in mind!

⚠️MDNI⚠️

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Author's Note

New developments are revealed, and the small team gets involved in interesting new adventures.

Hello!

A little late, but Merry Christmas to you all!

I have a few trigger warning for this chapter! Detailed description of blood, violence and injury.

Have fun! :D

I.M.L. – Infected Mammal Lifeform I.H.L. – Infected Humanoid Lifeform

if you're interested you can find the story on AO3: Chapter Fourteen

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The soft ringing of the communicator fills the silence that settled between the walls of the office with a deafening sharpness, and with each passing second, the urge to smash the wretched device against the wall grows more and more. As I glance at the two Hunters standing next to me on my periphery, I can immediately identify that they are also raging with the exact same helpless fury and astonishment that is driving my consciousness towards a complete nervous breakdown. There is no denying that our little trip started rather unluckily, and ended with such a surprise that helps us slowly sink into a mess from which it's not certain that we will be able to climb out anytime soon. And although the burglars ransacked the whole place quite skillfully, we were left with enough clues to piece together what the hell could have happened in the slaughterhouse that the facility had become. After our little research, at Alejandro's suggestion, we made our way back to the base, and I had the opportunity to admire what kind of crumbs we managed to collect, and the fact that I became a naked, shredded nerve fiber is an understatement. Life has dragged many fools into this world from the womb of their mother, but Alviar surpasses all of them, with which the only non-negligible problem is, that we bear the brunt of his stupid god-role-play. Or rather, humanity.

Suddenly, the blue hologram appears from the device, and in the small window of the call our two friends forgotten at home take shape, who presumably retreated to Price's office and were already waiting for us on the edge of their seats to finally give word about the progress of our investigation. And it doesn't take the captain's keen eyes more than a few seconds to realize that something is very wrong, because as soon as he sees our trio and the gloom sitting on us, then any hopeful expression with which he might have joined our chat disappears from his face in a blink of an eye.

"Is there a problem?" Price inquires cautiously, and although his voice comes through the communicator crackling, I can clearly make out the seriousness in his tone. And judging by the way his eyebrows slowly meet on his forehead in a troubled grimace, it's evident that he's already started making theories in that sharp brain of his, wondering what we might have discovered during our hike in the mountains that helped us put on this gentle, ominous radiance in such beautiful unison.

"We're in some deep shit." MacTavish says almost immediately, perfectly summing up the conclusion of the clues we found with this one sentence. There is no mistake in my Scottish friend's statement, because as soon as we shared what we came across in the maze of the research institute, we quickly realized that the fucking chaos we experienced on the city mission was just a friendly little party compared to what the good doc cooked up in the basement of his humble residence. Because Alviar's handiwork has the potential to make us think back fondly to the experience that we enjoyed in or failed mission.

"To say the least." I add, pulling the corner of my mouth into a sour line, and as the very fresh sight of the strange corpse discovered in the lab pops up in my head, I don't try to stop the frown that moves to my face from the nervousness that has moved into my head. And this is enough for the two men waiting at the other end of the call to put on the well-recognizable features of confusion, now probably burning with the desire to finally have someone blurt out what the hell could have happened.

"What did you find?" The bearded Hunter asks, and even in the faint glow of the hologram, I can see doubt creeping into his blue eyes with insidious certainty, as he slowly realizes that we haven't contacted him in the company of the fantastic developments he was hoping for. At the beginning of our little adventure here, even I had the foolish hope that maybe fate would be kind and throw a complication in our path that we are able to iron out. But now I've learned that I shouldn't beg for karma, because every single time the bastard proves that it can and wants to show me surprises that make me lose my mind.

"The research institute is destroyed. Someone got there before us and killed everyone." My Scottish friend begins to elaborate on the events, and I catch it only from the corner of my eye, as his mouth presses into a thin line, and his unfocused gaze settles on the table, as if he wandered off to somewhere else in his mind for a moment. And I have a inkling that he is projecting the victims of the senseless bloodshed on the canvas of his consciousness again, as if he is looking for more motivation to brace himself for revenge, which he is no doubt considering. What a shame that we are once again left without a culprit, so there is no one to vent all the creative tricks of his brutality out on.

"Alviar created a mutant-human hybrid." I share this little tidbit with the captain quickly, leaving no time for him and Garrick to react to the first unfortunate incident. Because this is the detail that, in addition to the tragic silence of the facility, contributed to the tension inside me, which slowly helps my stomach shrink to the size of a tennis ball. And it seems that I'm not the only one who is filled with a sufficient amount of anxiety by the new information, because when the two Hunters on the other side of the line understand what I have shared with them, the icy shock of recognition appears on their faces with definite outlines. Because they also know very well that this is a catastrophic turn for us even in the best-case scenario.

"What?" The surprised question breaks out from Price, and I could swear that I have never had the pleasure of seeing the man so astounded. For a moment, the self-confident calmness slips from his face, and if the situation weren't so terribly serious, I would surely enjoy watching his mouth open in astonishment, like fish washed up to the shore, starving for oxygen. But now, even my witty little mind doesn't want to dwell on this, because the stress dancing on my nerves helps to direct my thoughts back to the topic immediately.

"Based on the notes found in the lab, he created a serum from the DNA of multigenerational mutants, which is capable of creating a lifeform from humans that is more intelligent than an I.H.L."  I summarize the knowledge of the myriad of documents I found, and this very simple fact sounds even more impossible when said out loud. I wasn't mistaken that I managed to stumble upon a whole gold mine on the computer, because I got my sly little hands on every single research and experimental log, observation record, and other similarly interesting tidbits created up to that point. And among the data I found in these documents, I had plenty of options as to what I wanted to be more horrified by. Alviar bit off more than one could chew with his entire work, because the virus that subverted humanity was too fast-changing from the beginning to even be able to make a vaccine against it. Although it became obvious after the appearance of I.H.L.s that the human body is also a suitable host for the pathogen, my dear colleague soon realized that he wouldn't be able to achieve results different from the original course of the infection if he tried to play with the virus itself. And even I can't deny what a brilliant idea it was on his part to use multigenerational mutants, because the changes of the infection in their genetic material remained stable enough for the doc to be able to work with it. The doctor made an amazing breakthrough, but it doesn't change the fact that only a full-blown idiotic fool would do something like that if he knew there was even the slightest chance of shit hitting the fan. And it did hit the fan, big time. "According to the test records, their physical strength and endurance is similar to that of other infected lifeforms, but in the case of hybrids, their cognitive abilities remain completely intact." I continue my not-so-rosy explanation, laying out the most important pieces of information in broad outlines, because I have a feeling that no one is interested in the exciting scientific details, but rather in the shit we are sinking deeper and deeper into every day.

As the shock on the faces of the two men freezes for a frightening moment on the projected image, it occurs to me that maybe technology is playing a cruel joke on us, and the connection with the home base has been lost. It's only then that I realize that only my little presentation has been too effective, when Garrick pushes himself away from the table with some colorful curses rolling off from his tongue, running his palms over his head in an angry motion, as though he wanted to test that he was really in reality and not just in some morbid dream. And I can sympathize with the existential crisis he must be going through, because even my brain had a hard time accepting that there are indeed such ambitious but extremely single-minded people who are willing to risk the fate of the world for the sake of their powerful friends and a fat credit or two.

"Bloody hell..." Garrick mumbles his insults under his breath, slowly clasping his hands behind the back of his head, directing his dark eyes to the ceiling, maybe looking for an answer there to those troubling doubts that are surely already filling his consciousness with ever-increasing enthusiasm. "But why?" The very legitimate question emerges from him, as he finally turns back towards the conversation and spreads his hands wide, channeling all his frustration in this one movement.

"They want to replace us." Riley also joins the conversation, and his voice reaches such dangerous depths that I can almost feel the poison raging inside him, hidden behind his mask of indifference, on my skin. His anger is understandable, because we were faced not only with the fact that my colleague cooked up a catastrophic new danger in the darkness of his basement, but also with the reality that with this thoughtless experiment, they also wanted to reshape the system that had been standing on an unsteady ground, to begin with. "There aren't enough of us, and there are more and more of the I.M.L.s."

From this one statement, the face of the Hunters on the other side suddenly turns into something quite scary, and the somber mood creeping into Price's features inevitably awakens the instinct of flight in me. Even though we are separated by thousands of kilometers, even through the image from the communicator, I can feel every single spark of hatred burning in those pair of bright eyes, which tells me that the doctor is almost lucky that someone else blew a hole into his head, because I suspect it was a still kinder death, than what the bearded man would want to give him after what he had heard.

"Based on the research data, they wanted to create artificial soldiers akin to the Hunters. But since they had no luck synthesizing the DNA of the Hunters, when they saw that during the new evolution of the virus, humans could also survive the infection, they thought they would give it a shot." I attach my explanation next to the masked Hunter's grim comment, briefly outlining the quite logical, but no less spineless and immoral solution, with which Alviar wanted to remedy the problems that have arisen in recent years. There is no doubt that the doctor started his work along a very real and pressing issue, no matter how much he went astray on a path full of dangers and moral questions. I also don't argue with the fact that with the spread of the virus and the interbreeding of the I.M.L.s, the amount of beasts to be exterminated has greatly multiplied, compared to which the Hunters, unfortunately, didn't manage to be born in sufficient numbers, of course. Several decades ago, with highly questionable reproduction experiments, the government already tried to create Hunters in a natural way, practically forcing both male and female Hunters to mate with each other. Of course, they realized the problem very quickly, because sadly both the Hunter and the Healer genes showed recessive inheritance, so although, with a sour taste in their mouth, the authorities were forced to leave the right to create their little butchers to nature and luck. And it seems that after many years the attempts have started again, first with the DNA of the Hunters, then after the failure, with that of the mutants. The goal was obviously to increase the number of people fighting against mutants with this new invention, and to create a species with whom there is no need to fear that they erase half a colony without regeneration. And this would indeed have been a very tempting solution if Alviar hadn't completely ignored the fact that the basic properties of the virus include not only the boosting of physical strength, but also aggression for its easy spread. Of course, this didn't stop my colleague from trying to make the new superweapon since the appearance of the first I.H.L.

"Nothin' is enough for these fuckin' bastards." MacTavish hisses from between his clenched teeth, shaking his head resignedly, and his voice is filled with such bitter anger that it makes me feel sorry for him for a fleeting moment. He feels betrayed, and even I can admit that he is right. He and his companions have put their whole lives on the line so that the people can live out their days in safety within the walls of the colonies, without having to worry about a beast gutting them alive. The same peace is enjoyed by the upstanding member of the government, who rest in the warmth of their offices, behind their desks, in the peace that their loyal dogs create for them by wading in blood. All this so that they can reach for the first solution, weak even as a hypothesis, with the greatest peace of mind, which may bring even more tamed fools to their feet to serve them. One might think that they do this out of love for their people, but only morons are so naive. The government knows too that a new tool is needed against the growing threat, so why not create something whose mental stability is not tied to conditions and can be sacrificed, because they can produce a new one to replace the dead at any time? They don't have to spend years and huge resources on their training, but with a tiny ampoule of miracle medicine, they can turn anyone into a weapon. It's just a bonus that they managed to get a large number of subjects for the experiments from the many law-breaking prison inmates. How fucking smart.

"And what about the I.H.L. from the city? Is that a hybrid too?" Garrick suddenly speaks up, thus diverting the conversation to another interesting component, which caused me quite a headache at first. Because the hybrid found in the morgue and the mutant-rider I.H.L. have very visible differences between them. While our friend observed in the city remained surprisingly human, it was disfigured in the same way as the rest of its species, although it hadn't turned into a grotesque, lanky creature, as unsuspecting victims do after being bitten. But the hybrid... It's a different story. Alviar produced a spitting copy of a full-grown, at least S-class Hunter, except for the abnormal sharpness of the teeth, the characteristic whiteness of the eyes, and the sickly paleness of the skin. That creature, with one or two negligible differences, is a human, not a degenerate monster.

"Oh, no. That one was bitten by a hybrid." I give this very simple answer, and as a wry smile makes its way to my lips, my two friends appearing on the hologram know as well that this isn't a joke. "The bite of the hybrid only affects humans, and the infection creates a less intelligent lifeform. Smart, but just enough to obey the hybrid and be able to attack in an organized manner. Only an improved I.H.L." I further elaborate on this subtlety, deepening the gloom of our companions listening to us in our small home, because this is certainly a fact that brings the mess we've fallen into full circle. If the existence of the hybrid itself were not enough, which according to the data easily rivals a Hunter in terms of physical strength and endurance, then we also have to face the fact that the bastard is also able to make its own little minions, thus creating an entire deformed army for itself. And the icing on the cake is that, unsurprisingly, the hybrid gets along very well with the other members of its little mutant family, and is able to play the role of the leader if it feels like it, thus bringing the diverse multitude of infected lifeforms under its power.

"If the hybrid was in the research institute, how could it bite anyone?" Garrick continues his quizzing, leaning on Price's desk with his palm, and it seems that his brain, stimulated by stress, is pouring out better and better insights, one after another. And I'm not surprised, because my little fan boy's mind is sharp as a knife, and he immediately put together the rather small detail that I couldn't grasp with my mind either, until we found the embarrassingly simple answer to it. "And how did that I.H.L. get this far?

"Easily. Because the hybrid was made-to-order."  Riley answers, spitting the words with contempt, and although he seems to be a model of composure and coolness even after such serious discoveries, I only need to observe the furrows slowly appearing around his eyes and the strong line of his jaw clenching under the material of the mask to know that it's not as easy to restrain his anger with an iron fist as it seems.

"What are you talking about?" Price frowns in confusion, and it seems that this statement fills him with a sufficient amount of foreboding to hold on to his desk and look for a way to ground himself. Although I suspect he guessed as well, that Alviar didn't choose this very interesting field of research out of pure passion, after we learned that the new threats were created by the hands of humans. With many years of experience behind his back, he knows all too well that in this wretched world, only the things that the authorities know about can be executed in the greatest secrecy. Because it's in their interest to hide problematic elements.

"I found Laswell's report in Alviar's office." MacTavish gets to the juicy bit of information he found in the doc's extravagant grave. As it turned out later, I was indeed not mistaken about the poetic sense of fate, because Alviar was executed in his own neat hole of an office. Based on the Scottish man's clever reconnaissance, the intruder probably killed the good doctor with a well-aimed shot after he conjured up the serum hidden in his safe. And I could pat myself on the back for my flawless intuition again, but it would be tasteless to make fun of the dead. His pathetic death is shameful enough for him even in the afterlife. "They wanted to deliver the final product to the customer a month ago, but a little whoopsie happened on the way and the bastard got out. Before he was captured, he bit two guards, one was killed on the spot, and the other was brought home so that the doc would have somethin' to examine."

After the Scottish Hunter shared the content of the report with us in the car, several of our burning questions were answered quite easily. The I.H.L. was able to travel thousands of kilometers undetected to the neighbor of Colony No. 17, because they were traveling there with what was able to create our mutant-riding friend in the first place. Alviar believed that after much effort, he had finally succeeded in creating the perfect specimen, which he could finally show off to his customer. However, he was quite ignorant about how sophisticated the hybrid he created was able to communicate, and he forgot to take into account the very small detail in his big experiment, that the mutants are also able to contact each other with pheromones. So why shouldn't a hybrid be able to perform such a magic trick? So, when the mutant intended for a weapon released its small chemical signals in the wild and the rescue army arrived in the form of monsters, the well-laid plan was overturned. Although the threat was defeated, the hybrid broke free and gleefully munched on two guards, who underwent a transformation so rapid, compared to what had been observed so far, that it was quite impressive. Under normal circumstances, it would take a few days for the changes to kick in, but here the two victims began to mutate very quickly in a matter of minutes. One was shot dead immediately, but Alviar insisted that the other to be saved, so that his sneaky hands could get closer to him. So the tattooed man survived the entire ordeal to turn into an experimental subject, and the one, who was believed to have been left behind to die, easily healed himself with the abilities he developed from the virus and set off to the nest where we later met him. It's a real fucking bedtime story.

"Who was the customer?"  Comes the question from Price, and by the sinister curve of his mouth, it's quite clear that although he wants to hear it with his own ears, he has a candidate who is so reckless as to commit such a despicable act. And before, I would have made fun of the man for so blindly ignoring the many small steps that led up to this point. Because there could have been a whole series of subtle little signs that the sharp-eyed captain should have noticed much sooner. But the fact that fate has once again confirmed another theory of mine doesn't fill me with joy, because my soul aches from the bitter lines of betrayal slowly settling between the Hunter's features.

"Shepherd." Riley shares the name that rests next to Alviar's signature on every single research document, his deep voice filled with a piercing loathing that makes it painfully obvious how much he feels stabbed in the back. It's impossible not to notice the way his broad shoulders tense up as his hands clench into fists, as if he wanted to keep chaining his body to immobility with this, before the anger that burns beneath the surface with the heat of slowly bubbling lava erupts.

The masked man isn't the only one who is disturbed by this development, because the room is enveloped in stunned silence as the two Hunters on the other side of the hologram fall quiet upon hearing the shocking information. And I suspect that the fact, that the hand of the leader of Colony No. 17 reaches so deeply into this slow-boiling, bloody upheaval can be enough to make anyone sick. The very person who decided to manufacture disposable replacements was the one who entrusted the unit with the noble task of cleaning up his dirt. Of course, it makes sense why the colony leader entrusted the small team with the task of eradicating the nest, and why he wanted to end the case as quietly as possible. He probably knew what made the I.M.L.s befriend their humanoid counterparts from the moment that wretched footage of the merchant's attack surfaced. He was well aware that the frenzy of his new toy had created the fuckup into which he was most happy to send us to erase, along with every little trace of his crime. The only thing the old man didn't consider was what would happen when his loyal subjects started asking questions, when they found themselves face to face with the terrible mess he had managed to create with the doc. Shepherd was conceited enough to think he didn't have to fear the bites of his loyal dogs. And most of the time it's this presumptuous stupidity that causes the fall.

"That fuckin' scumbag." Garrick snaps in disbelief, filtering the words between his teeth as his expression slowly turns into a snarl of rage. And he isn't alone in his indignation, because I suspect, that the only thing that keeps the Scottish Hunter and his threatening bosom friend in a transient state of calm is that it wouldn't be their own equipment on which they would vent out their anger, should they decide to let the ire pulsing through them in sure waves take control over them.  But unfortunately, it's not the time for legitimate resentment, because we have to face a much more urgent complication than the grievances of Unit 141 against the colony leader.

"The hybrid was eliminated after that because it was found to be too dangerous. But the serum was very much preserved. And someone found it long before us." I sprinkled this tiny little nothing that gives me far more cause for concern now than Shepherd's and Alviar's questionable business dealings. For although there is no evidence that the serum was stolen by those who turned the whole facility upside down with such great enthusiasm, it doesn't take more than a few working brain cells to realize what could have been so terribly valuable, that made them visit the facility at all. This drug contains a myriad of horrible possibilities if it falls into the wrong hands, and surely the person who ransacked Alviar's nice home was aware that there was a market niche that he could serve with it.

"We need to find out who took it." Price states almost immediately, formulating the obvious next step for our little team. Because there is no doubt that the culprit needs to be found before they have a chance to pass on the goods. Once we lose the trace of that serum, I have a feeling that the next time we have a chance to catch up with it is when someone has already destroyed half the world using it.

"The bastards tricked the security system, but they weren't thorough enough." Alejandro joins the discussion of the clues, who has been following our increasingly tense discussion silently from a small corner of his office. With determined steps, he gallops closer to our little trio to conjure up from the depths of his pocket the one small object what's existence equals the light at the end of the long, dark tunnel. "We found this." He raises the insignia in front of the hologram, on which a rather morbid skeleton-like creature announces the sign of the organization whose brave members have wandered into the research institute for a bloodshed-filled holiday. Although the perpetrators were resourceful enough to temporarily disable the security system in some clever way, they probably didn't have enough brainpower left in the middle of the rampage to not leave one of their dead comrades behind with the clear marking that Alejandro can now show off from his gloved hand to the two men on the other side of the call. Very stupid from the scumbags who had time to play tag with the poor staff of the research institute.

"It doesn't look familiar to me."  Garrick comments, shaking his head in confusion, after squinting at the symbol embroidered on the emblem, giving voice to the not-inconsiderable dilemma that crushed our joy in two. Because we found this precious little thing in vain, if none of my fellow knowledgeable Hunters even have the faintest idea about who it belonged to. However, it can be a very organized team if they have produced such a scout badge for themselves.

"Neither to us. But there is someone who knows everyone." Alejandro notes, bringing up the juicy bit of information he shared with us not long ago, giving us a possible way out of the rather hopeless situation in which we found ourselves. "El Sin Nombre. A lowly criminal, but might know who this symbol belongs to." He explains, and his mouth curls in such a sour scowl that it is clear that the unknown villain was involved in enough quastionable deals to establish the Hunter's dislike.

"Catch the bloody arsehole." Our captain issues his firm instructions, giving us the starting push for our next action. "Until then, we make sure that Shepherd won't have another peaceful night." He assures us, and there is an edge to his voice that I can hear from what painful threat he has in store for the colony leader. Because the dark expression that slowly spreads across the face of the bearded man instills that icy temper in his eyes, that promises nothing but revenge and suffering. As I turn my gaze to the unfriendly pair of MacTavish and Riley, I know that they are quite inspired by their captain's drive as well, because even though they can't personally approach the leader of our colony for a little chat, there is someone else they can let out their frustration on. And the poor fool has no idea what kind of storm is approaching.

⃰

Booming music fills the peace of the night, and the flashes of colorful lights from the building not far from us announce what kind of fun is taking place within its walls. And even I think, that it's quite brave that anyone dares to party so cheerfully in the orange zone, even if they are criminals. Of course, I understand that such people have to keep up the act of coolness when they are passing the time behind god's back in the middle of important business negotiations, but I doubt that these tough guys would feel so peachy in pieces if this ruckus encouraged a mutant to join in the fun. And it doesn't matter how many traps they have set up around their little hideout, if anyone can disarm it with playful ease. Although it could also be true that only my Hunter friends have such unique skills, with which they eliminated the tricky little surprises that greeted us when we came to them in a pitifully short time.

Although it must be said that the run-down building in the middle of the wilderness is, if not from the point of view of the mutants, in a perfect place for hiding from the authorities. Just far enough from the colony to avoid prying eyes, and just close enough to return to the walls for a leisurely business meeting at any time. And while one would think that the patrols would easily find a dilapidated structure in the middle of the forest, according to Alejandro's information, this misled them many times so far. Dozens of such crumbling piles of bricks lie in the jungle surrounding the colony, and these cunning little thugs move from one to another so quickly that by the time the authorities get wind of where they hide, they have already done a disappearing act, leaving behind nothing but empty ruins. So terribly sly.

And maybe that's the reason why it took Alejandro two full days to find any kind of usable clue, which told him where this scoundrel named El Sin Nombre wanted to show up again. He'd had to break quite a few noses to get the coordinates of our date tonight out of someone, but I wasn't wrong about him being able to get anything if his fiery drive pushed him to act. Because although it took time, he led us to the abandoned warehouse, where we now lurk under the cover of night like a pack of wolves on the hunt for prey.

The bass drifting away with the wind fills me with an almost nostalgic feeling, because it instantly reminds me of those carefree times, when I didn't have to kneel in the mud, behind a bush and hide without a sound, but I scouted my dinner for the day to a similar rhythm. Those were indeed the easier times when I roamed the streets of the colony as I pleased, but now that life is nothing more than a fond memory left behind. Because for some reason, I don't regret for a minute that I can indulge in the umpteenth excitement of the last few days together with my small team. My eyes automatically search for my two companions, and although I see nothing but shadows moving in the distance and the fleeting flashes of two pairs of glowing red eyes, I know that not far from me they too are following with the same intense attention as I am, how Alejandro and his men slowly sneaks closer to the building.

The Hunter and his soldiers tiptoe between the cars parked in front of the crime den with such invisibility that even I have to concentrate to spot the metallic glint when the knife of one of the men dressed in black sinks into the tires of one of the cars. And suddenly, Alejandro's teaching, which he shared with me while improvising today's action plan, dawns on me. Or there is only one way to catch pests. They have to be smoked out of their nests, so that they then voluntarily run into the outstretched arms of the predator waiting for them. And I have to admit that even I was impressed by Alejandro's slyness, with which he invented the details of our mission, after the interrogated moron finally got chatty enough to spill the info after the unit leader’s rather forceful nagging. And if I take into account that this method also works on mutants, why wouldn't it work on a couple of bandits who will flee the moment the ground gets even a little hot under their feet.

The infiltrating team eliminates the guards lurking around the building with ruthless efficiency, and their victims have no chance to defend themselves, because the soldiers ambushing them appear and cut their throats as quickly as a snake attacking its prey. And when, after a few minutes, the last guard is on the ground, they all gather in front of the entrance of the warehouse, ready to begin the part of the operation where they make the rabbit jump out of the bush, which has no idea how dangerous guests wandered to the threshold of its humble abode.

"Victor 1-1 here. We're moving in " Comes the announcement of the head of the unit on the radio, and my hands automatically wrap tighter around the grip of my pistol, as the adrenaline awakening in my body prepares me for action. The two soldiers hiding not far from me ready themselves for the fun as well, and through the scope of their weapons, they are looking for every small opening that serves as a possible exit from the building, so that they can immediately pounce on anyone who dares to show up from there.

"Copy. We're ready." Riley answers, and as the cruel calmness hiding in his voice creeps into my ears, the excitement in my stomach also stirs up. I could have gotten used to how quickly the man gathers his cool composure, but I'm more and more impressed by the icy purposefulness that fills his thick-accented baritone when he takes on the role of the fearless Hunter. And that makes my heart rate go up, and excitedly pumps the energy ready for action in my body, which makes all my senses suddenly become a thousand times sharper. Because now that I finally don't have to fight for my survival, and I don't have to worry about my own bodily integrity, I can enjoy this adventure a little more.

Alejandro only hesitates for a minute, and in the dull light coming from the building I see him slowly counting down on his hands, so that when he gives the starting push with a wave, he opens the huge door with a single kick to throw the smoke bombs into the crowd inside, and taking advantage of this sudden surprise, pushes into the warehouse with his men. The sound of gunshots mixes with the melodious sound of music, almost providing an undertone to the rapidly developing chaos. Loud shouts penetrate the noise, as the flash of the firing weapons breaks through the colorful dance of the rhythmically changing lights, and the startled members of the crowd caught in the act appear as dark silhouettes on the dirt-obscured glass of the windows. The leader of the unit was indeed right, because although one or two of the more reckless gang members start to fight the soldiers, the others decide to escape ridiculously quickly. As soon as the first window is broken, and a figure dressed in a tacky shirt jumps out to start running toward the depths of the forest, then a rifle is fired from among the trees, and the man falls to the ground, like a sack of flour. This part of our plan may even seem cruel, where we take down all those who try to escape one by one, strictly avoiding to cause a fatal wound if possible, but I have no doubt that if the roles were reversed they would be more than happy to send a bullet into the skull of any of us. We need only one person, and only she must stay alive.

"Take down everyone except the woman!" The noise of the slowly unfolding disorder is interrupted by the yelling of the masked man on the radio, reminding everyone of the most important task of our small group waiting in ambush, and upon hearing the order, the soldiers kneeling next to me aim at the figures rushing out of the building without hesitation. It seems that we may have disturbed a very important party, because each of the thugs, emerging from the structure like frightened birds, are loaded with jewels and weapons that are way beyond the reach of ordinary people. And they start a headlong rush immediately, taking off with pathetic terror for being big-shot criminals. There are a few halfwits among them who jump into their cars to try to get away, but they soon realize that our sly team deprived them of the chance of this escape route a long time ago. And when they become aware of this, they decide to seek cover behind the vehicles and try to target us with their guns instead, but all in vain, because they cannot find any of us, hidden by the protective cover of the bushes and trees.

"The target has disappeared! She left the building!" Alejandro's infuriated yelling disturbs my tense observations, and this is enough information for everyone to get nervous all at once. It's no wonder that everyone tenses up in the blink of an eye, and I hear my Scottish friend's angry swearing in my ears, because this is not good news at all. Because the criminal, which we threw this whole party together for, according to the plan, should have been caught inside by the intruding team already. Since, according to Alejandro, the woman has a bad habit of fleeing as soon as there is even the slightest chance of escaping, and she vanishes again and again just when she is within arm's reach. And if we lose sight of her, we lose the chance to find out who stole our serum.

And this fills my body with just enough adrenaline to turn towards the firefight unfolding in front of the warehouse with intense concentration. But slowly it becomes impossible to make out which new unknown thug burst out of the building, who are the ones who are running and speeding towards the thick of the forest, or who are the ones who are bold enough to try to fight back against their invisible attackers. Suddenly, everything turns into a cavalcade of raining bullets, inarticulate yelling, and shadow-like figures, and it becomes more difficult by the minute to make out anything in the upheaval.

Maybe it's due to my sharp eyes, or the universe is finally smiling at me, because as my gaze darts around in the madness of the fight, for a moment I catch a slender figure on my periphery sneaking almost imperceptibly between the barrels lined up behind the warehouse. A single cry is heard in my brain almost immediately, and it echoes in my skull that I must not let the lowlife escape. My body moves on its own, and almost without thinking, I jump up to back away from our hiding place, ignoring the soldiers who look up in confusion from their weapons, keeping my eyes on the target. Someone is throwing rushed Spanish words at me, probably trying to figure out what the hell I'm doing, but it's muffled by the sound of gunshots. They don't have the chance to react, because I start running with such hasty steps that by the time they come to their senses, I'm already gone.

My legs nimbly carry me through the ground of the forest teeming with roots, and I don't pay attention to the attack of the twigs cutting into my face, because the momentum of the stress hormones raging in my muscles drives me forward instinctively. And as I emerge from the underbrush and bolt forward, avoiding the thousand and one rust-gnawed junk lying on the edge of the battlefield, left behind by the people who worked here perhaps decades ago, then I continue to sprint, embraced by the background noise of the gunshots, like a predator that has caught a scent. Maybe the enemy also sees me, and I feel something whizzing past my ear, but luck seems to be on my side, because not a single bullet hits me, and suddenly a cold determination takes over me that allows me to focus on just one thing. On the woman heading toward the trees, who rushes forward without caring about the turmoil unfolding behind her, leaving each of her accomplices to their fate, like a real cowardly scumbag. But I won't let her disappear.

As soon as I get close enough, I aim my pistol at the gangster who reaches the tree line, and even though I know that my skills are nowhere near sophisticated enough, I pull the trigger before I can talk myself out of it. And I'm even amazed at how close I came to hitting her, because it was only because of the woman's sudden movement that the bullet pierced the trunk of the tree instead of her shoulder. But unfortunately, this is enough of a warning for her to realize that she is caught, and when she flashes her irritated eyes at me, I know that I have to hurry, because from now on I won't be able to surprise her. I start firing again, taking advantage of the opportunity while I still find her in my field of vision, and when she suddenly disappears in the darkness of the forest, I only suppress the colorful words that climb to my tongue and increase my already fast speed.

Without hesitation, I throw myself between the trees to immediately follow the woman's trail, but I can hardly get inside, when suddenly out of nowhere a stick the size of my forearm swings towards me, and it hits my hand clutching the pistol with such deadly accuracy that my fingers involuntarily release their grip due to the force of the blow. I halt with a gasp, as the pain radiates through my arm, and I know from the slow throbbing ache in the back of my hand that I will collect a nice little bruise from this. My gun lands in the leaves with a soft thud as it slips out of my grasp, and I don't have enough time to get over my surprise and reach for a new weapon, because my attacker steps forward from behind one of the thick tree trunks, and unlike me, these few seconds were enough for her to prepare for the fight.

The hunting knife clutched in her gloved hand glints metallically in the light that penetrates through the foliage, and it's only thanks to my sharp reflexes that she doesn't slits my throat as the blade swings towards me, when she charges at me without further hesitation. But she doesn't let up, she strikes again almost immediately, and I thank Price for every punch, kick, and injury, because it's only due to his skillful and consistent teaching that I have any chance of escaping the woman's onslaught. Perhaps it's this muscle memory that allows me to parry her attack long enough to understand that she is far too practiced for me to compete with her abilities. Her movements are like those of a cat, light but deadly, and each of her moves can be the result of years of hard work, which she probably showed off successfully even against more professional opponents than me. And as I hastily back away from her, it becomes painfully obvious that this confrontation can have two very simple outcomes. She either slips away or kills me. And while I'm able to patch myself up, if she manages to drag me off my feet here for long enough, then she will vanish without a trace. And I can't let that happen.

And my brain goes through my options in a minute, and it soon becomes clear that I have only one option to get close to her and handle her with my own technique. And the fiery energy raging inside me doesn't allow me to doubt even a little bit that my plan will work, because I don't have another shot. It's either now or never.

My enemy seems to sense that something is wrong, she takes advantage of my hesitation almost immediately, and when she lunges at me, thrusting her arm forward, I prepare myself for the counterattack, grounding my feet. The knife cuts through my vest like butter, and as the blade sinks into my stomach, only the sensation of dull pressure reaches my brain. I don't give myself time to be shocked, but I suddenly grab the woman's arm holding the weapon so that my free hand reaches towards her with the speed of a venomous snake. And it seems that I finally manage to startle her too, because she doesn't have a chance to react when my hand clamps down on her face and my dull nails dig into her delicate skin. The energy surging inside me rushes along my hand with impatient speed, and as it reaches her, her eyes almost roll back into her skull in surprise. It takes only a moment, and I let go of her arm to let her fall limply to the ground like a rag doll.

When I realize that I have succeeded, the adrenaline racing through my veins begins to dissipate, and suddenly the fact that a blade punctured my stomach reaches my brain. Blinding pain pierces my insides, and I stagger backward groaning, as my body slowly sinks into the shock caused by the agony. All of a sudden, all the strength escapes from my legs, and I fall to my knees, panting, as every single nerve gets paralyzed by the suffering spreading inside me, and my hands just manage to support me, before I too fall face forward in the dirt next to the woman. The quiet little voice in my brain cuts through the screams of misery buzzing in my head and warns me that I need to signal where I am before I even attempt to treat myself.

With trembling hands, I reach for the many devices resting on my vest, and when, after a few moments that seem like decades, my fingers find one of the signal flares trapped in a narrow little loop, I yank it out, crushing the ache that ripples through my body as I pull the blasted thing out of its place. I clumsily snap off the small cap, and gritting my teeth, I push myself off the ground to sit on my heels to keep the signaling device away from me before I even collect a burn injury on top of my existing torment. And as I pull out the cord, and the bright red, sparking flames burst out of the tube, I throw it further away and, taking a deep breath, gather all my remaining concentration to find my radio to inform my little companions about my fruitful private stunt.

"This is Viper... I caught the target."  I speak up as soon as I find my voice, focusing with every cell on the movement of my mouth, instead of the heat of the blood soaking the fabric of my shirt. "I'm at the signal flare..." I add, suppressing the painful moan that is bubbling up in my throat, because I don't need the whole team to witness my torture, which I voluntarily caused to myself.

Even if there is an answer, I can't understand it clearly, because I can't make out the crackling hum that comes through the radio over the noise of my ever-accelerating heartbeat drumming in my ears. I can feel how the shock is slowly taking over my limbs, and I, falling back into the dust, try to gather all my remaining strength, because I have to overcome the pain that paralyzes my muscles. Squeezing my eyes shut, I take one deep breath after another, but with each breath, the tension of the blade penetrating my stomach only grows stronger, and I have the stray thought that I should finally start healing myself before I bleed to death here after the successful completion of the mission.

"Woods!" The roar of a familiar voice penetrates the fog that has descended on my head, and the pounding of heavy footsteps only faintly reaches me, with which the one who came to save me gets closer to me. And as I feel a large, warm palm on my arm, my eyes slowly open to look to the side, and it takes a few seconds for me to recognize MacTavish crouching next to me, his face distorted by worry. "What the hell..." He would begin his speech, as his eyes glowing in crimson find the weapon wedged into my stomach, but before he can sink into his shock, I weakly gesture forward with my head.

"Take the woman... I'll handle this..." I hiss clenching my teeth, trying not to let too much of the pain radiating through my every nerve ending leak through. Because even through my greatest suffering, I know that there is no need to give way to my weaknesses, because they only draw the attention of those around me to the fact that I'm vulnerable. And even though my hazy consciousness is aware that the man would probably not take advantage of my defenseless situation, it's difficult to overcome old habits, especially when my survival instincts guide my every action.

The Scottish Hunter only spares one glance at the woman lying unconscious not far in front of us, but instead of doing as I tell him, he just wraps his fingers more firmly around my arm, as if to help me find my balance. And I don't have the strength to argue with him anymore, so I surrender myself to the action and search for the handle of the knife with my hand, finding the courage to pull it out after a few shaky breaths. No matter how hard I try to stifle the scream that creeps up my throat, a tortured whimper escapes from my pursed lips, making me look like a wounded, whining dog. Dark spots suddenly swim in front of my eyes from the burning pain, and I try to blink away the dizziness that slowly settles into my head, when finally the last inch of the blade leaves my body. The knife falls out of my hand, but it doesn't bother me, because with an almost instinctive urge, I smooth my palm over the wound, my fingers carefully digging under the material of the torn shirt. Closing my eyes, I look for the panicked energy pulsating in me, and it obeys my pleas and starts its slow journey towards my injury, so when I feel the first cooling waves, as they begin to weave together the torn tissues, I can let out a relieved sigh. It takes a few minutes for my clever little ability to restore my body to its undamaged state, but with each moment my head becomes clearer, and when the last mangled layer of skin closes, I push myself up onto my knees. 

"Woods, ya scared the livin' shit out of me!" MacTavish breaks the tense silence, and now I have the free brain capacity to study how his eyebrows are furrowed in disapproval, and the reprimanding curve at the corner of his mouth, which makes it look like he's considering congratulating or scolding me after my stunt. And I'm quite moved by the knowledge that I managed to arouse such concerns in the Hunter, even though I know that I should be ashamed of myself after my little performance. Although I don't think that anyone who throws themselves, without thinking, in front of the enemy for the sake of protecting others has the right to look at me in such a reproachful way.

"As long as they don't aim at my head, I'm fine." I soothe him, putting a small sly smile on my face, graciously allowing him to finally help me up to a standing position. "Don't worry, MacTavish, I won’t kick the bucket so easily!" I assure the man that, contrary to appearances, it's not nearly as easy to send me to the afterlife, merely noting to myself as a side note that our target would have managed to come close to this if she had had a little more time to show off her skills. And as I turn my gaze to the woman immersed in her beauty sleep, I realize that we didn't come across a simple criminal, because I doubt that she would have acquired these amazing moves during the mandatory school training. And something tells me that she didn't manage to hone her skills so effectively during his illegal games either.

"It's not me ya have to convince."  The Scottish Hunter announces, gesturing behind my back with his head, and it would be impossible not to notice the line of the faint nasty smile appearing on his mouth, with which he leaves when he finally decides to comply with my earlier request and collect our prey.

And I, confused, tear my eyes away from the man slowly gathering the unconscious woman into his arms, to turn around to find who the hell he could be referring to so mysteriously. Almost immediately, I find Riley standing in the shadows with the stiffness of a statue, his gaze fixed on me almost motionlessly, not paying attention to his companion, who just saunters past me with a wide grin, patting my shoulder absent-mindedly, as tough he wanted to wish me good luck. And for a moment, I don't really understand what the problem could be, because my brain is unable to find a fault in the series of actions that led me up to this point. But as the masked Hunter stalks towards me with measured steps after we are left alone, like a cat about to break the neck of a small bird, I understand that my stunt did not please him nearly as much as I thought. And suddenly I can't understand what got his knickers in a bunch, because for once I didn't disobey orders, I may have improvised a bit, but I did exactly what I was supposed to do.

"It's stupid to risk your own physical safety." He remarks, and his voice sounds unreasonably harsh to my ears, as if the fact of the extremes I'm willing to go to in order to achieve my goal would really bother him. Of course, I know that I don't reach the final destination with conventional means, but without his superpowers and experience, I'm forced to use sneaky tactics. Because these were the solutions that got me out of trouble all my life and were at my service. Obviously, my current idea wasn't very smooth, but it was the only logical step that my brain could create. If I stopped the attack she would have run away, if I continued to fight her she would definitely do more damage to me. Getting stabbed was the smallest collateral damage I could suffer as the result of the situation. "There will come a time when you won't be able to heal yourself." He informs me, and as I see his flaming eyes narrow, I sense the irritation in them, and I just tilt my head to the side in interest, because I'm seriously starting to lose track. He is undoubtedly right about this detail, which Price has already pointed out to me a couple of times as well. There will indeed be times when my sly strategies won't work, but so far they've served me well. All my life I had to take care of such unpleasant problems by myself, and every single time I solved the complications that life threw me into. And since I could never count on the help of others, I quickly learned that there are situations where you have to take realistic risks in order to succeed. Like, for example, in order to prevent the shitstorm threatening the whole world, I'm unfortunately forced to allow someone to stab me. And luckily for me, the blessed ability of my kind always supported my cunning tricks.

"Are you worried about me, perhaps?" I raise one of my arched eyebrows, twisting a lazy, cheeky smile on my mouth as I slowly immerse myself in the smoldering gaze intertwined with mine. And when he settles, just a few narrow steps from me, I feel the pulsation of heat emanating from his body, which makes the warm tingling under my skin come alive with reflexive speed, further encouraging my brave little teasing. Despite the fact that we buried our differences, and even though during our outing at the research institute, he showed me how beneficial it is for me if he turns to me with goodwill, I'm unable to resist the temptation to poke a little at his feelings swirling under the surface. Because every time I see another emotion flash in those eyes, and his undivided attention is directed at me, I'm filled with satisfaction. And maybe sometimes I don't even want to fight the feeling.

"I prefer to see you alive." He states simply, but my heart skips a beat excitedly from the breath of tenderness in his tone, and I try to guide my pulse back to its normal rhythm with a small swallow, before the stupid thoughts that start in my head divert me into questionable side streets. Even though he has already stated covertly that he cares about the fate of my survival, but now that he is finally voicing this openly, I'm unable to banish the evil little joy that flares up inside me, which settles in my chest contently. Because this terrifying man is genuinely concerned about my pretty little body, and this is a development in our relationship that I would never have been able to predict.

"If I evoke such deep emotions in you, then maybe I should get injured more." I take another reckless step towards him, almost masochistically enjoying the tiny glint of danger in his eyes. Slowly, perhaps, I could start to get over the fact that something is not right in my head, because it's more than worrying, as the burning tremble wakes up in my stomach, when he leans down and gets temptingly close to me. And I have to force my hands to stay still, so they don't reach for him, because my fingertips start to tingle almost desperately to touch him.

"You've been a good girl so far, Woods. Don't make me change my mind." He warns, and I can almost feel his voice resonating along his chest, as it suddenly deepens in a delicious way, as if a big cat were just starting to purr. But I'm much more surprised by what he wants to convey to me with his words, because I doubt that I only imagine the praise disguised as scolding, which he gifts me for the first time since our complicated acquaintance. To others, his little statement might not mean anything, but I'm getting more and more accustomed to seeing behind his dubious comments. It's almost ridiculous how my mouth dries up from these two sentences, and it's downright desperate how quickly the excitement rushes through me, as I replay in my head how guilty it was to hear "good girl" from his mouth. And I don't think he used this wording by accident. Because every little move of this man is intentional.

And this quite simply encourages me to let my guard down for a fleeting moment and give in to the damned little voice lurking in my head, which wakes up again and encourages me to play with fire just a little, just this once. And as my fingers slowly crawl up between the many holsters and pockets of his vest, and settle at the edge to look for a grip there, I only reach up on my toes and pull myself closer to him, tracing the parting line of his lips through the dark material of the mask with my hot breath.

"I'll be a good girl for you, Riley." I tease and let the intensity of the flames dancing under my skin make my voice even more lustful. And I know it's not just a hallucination when I see his pupils slowly absorb the scarlet glow shining in his eyes. "Pinky swear."

When I see one of his gloved hands move in my periphery, I just back away from him with a wicked little grin, enjoying the way a very interesting hoarse growl emerges from his throat. And as I walk past him and head towards our small group, I can almost feel his gaze burning the back of my neck. It may not be time to entertain myself in the shadow of this new threat, but sometimes I can afford to have a little fun. Especially when it's the easiest way to silence the tangled thoughts swirling in my head. Because this is really not the best time to figure out what to do with my attraction for the man, which I can no longer deny. This is the problem for future Leona.

[natashxromanovf]

omg for ur sweater weather sleepover!! what about a cosy christmas night at the gryffindor common room, eating sweets and playing chess with the marauders. And like (bare with me i haven't thought this through😭) sirius finally decides to FESS UP and confess :D

Peacfully messy evenings

sirius black x gn!reader

wc: 906

warnings: mentions of food, it might not be gender neutral reader but i’m pretty sure it is, not proofread

a/n: i got a little carried away, i’m sorry haha. but i really loved the request, thanks for sending it in🤍 i hope you like this <33

"Check," James says as he moves his figure, a look of disappointment appearing on Peter's face.

"How do you do this every time?" he whines, his shoulders dropping.

"C'mon, it's not over yet, you can still win," James encourages, giving the last bit of hope to Peter.

You're currently seated between Sirius' legs, your back pressed to his front, your head resting on his shoulder. You're half watching the chess game unfolding before your eyes, half fighting the urge to sleep. The position you're in is very comfortable and the temperature in the room is just perfect. There's a piece of your favourite candy in your hands and you're trying to gather the strength to lift it up and place it in your mouth.

"You know, if you don't want to eat it, I can," Sirius jokes, making you look up at his face.

"No, no, I got it," you laugh, finally taking the last bite of the sweet treat.

"Shame, I would have happily done it," he says, earning a chuckle from you. "I love that sound," he mutters, and you look at him weirdly.

"What sound?" you ask, confused.

"Your laugh," he simply replies. You sweetly smile at him, trying to calm down the butterflies in your stomach that erupted at his statement. You hate that you get this feeling whenever he's with you. He's your best friend and that should be it. No feelings, no longing for more. Yet, there's no denying it, you like him. Maybe more than like, but that's a problem for another day. And sometimes, especially when he says something like this, you think the feelings might be mutual but it could all be in your head. After all, Sirius does flirt with everyone for fun.

"Oh, just get a room already," Remus murmurs out of nowhere, making the both of you look at him like he just said the most unbelievable thing ever. He doesn't even avert his eyes away from the words on the page of a book he's currently reading, just adds a "you heard me" to his previous sentence. Sirius quietly coughs, trying to get rid of the weird atmosphere that suddenly appeared in the common room. Let's just say his attempt wasn't helping.

"I won!" Peter then screams, a hint of surprise in his voice. "I won!" he repeats himself, abruptly standing up. "I won!" he once again exclaims, looking at the two of you for confirmation.

"Good job, Pete!" you smile, giving him a high five. His face is still caught in complete shock when he turns around, being met with a big grin playing on James' lips.

"Congratulations, mate," he genuinely praises, urging Peter to sit down for another game. He does so, putting the figures back in their original place.

"Do you think James let him win?" you question, forgetting about the previous awkwardness momentarily.

"Oh, definitely. Maybe not really, but at least a little bit," Sirius whispers, taking a look at the grinning Peter. When he looks back down, he's met with your shining eyes and for a moment, he just stares deep into them. "You know, you look very beautiful tonight," he confesses and you release a breath you didn't even realise you were holding.

"Please stop. You can't just say something like that and expect me to not feel anything. I know it's something you do, it's your thing. Flirting and making people giggle, it's fun to you. But it's not fun for me, especially when you know - and I know you know - that I'm so into you," you finish, fighting the tears that are bound to escape. You can't believe this peaceful evening just turned into this mess.

"But what if it's genuine with you?" he starts and you close your eyes, preparing yourself for what he's about to say next. "What if I actually mean it when I say stuff like this? Because I do, Y/N. I do think you're beautiful and not just tonight. You're beautiful when you wake up, you're beautiful when you make that face in class when you try to really focus on something, you're beautiful when you smile and you're beautiful when you cry. You're beautiful every minute of every day, and I mean that." he utters, making you look up once again. You somehow still expect to see a joking expression when you do finally look up, but all you see is honesty. He's telling the truth right now. Sirius black actually likes you.

"You- you really mean that," you state. Not a question, a statement. Because you know that now.

"Yes, Merlin, I'm surprised how you haven't figured that out yet," he chuckles, which makes you chuckle.

"You mean it," you laugh, absolutely drunk on happiness.

"Finally!" you hear James cheer and when you look around the room, all eyes are on the two of you. Even Remus looked up from his book.

"You were listening this whole time?" you question, giving them an "are you serious" look.

"Well, you weren't really whispering so it was kind of hard not to," Peter shrugs, returning to the chess game without another word.

"But we are happy for you," Remus finishes, turning his attention back to the book. You just shake your head and smile, because what else could you do? They might be idiots but they're your idiots. And one idiot is especially yours now.

i hope you enjoyed this! don’t forget to like, reblog and/or comment, it really help writers with motivation <33

tags: @yoongisbiwife @sexysirius @pregnant-piggy @lilylovegood @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts @justreadingficsdontmindme @leossmoonn @msfandomfreak @pottahishotasf @velvetcloxds @johnmurphyisqueer @fairydxll @lovelyjj @cauliflowertree (let me know if you want to be on here please) @cupids-crystals @eichenhouseproperty @sheraayasher @liltimmyst @marauders-babe @alexxavicry @uwiuwi @ell0ra-br3kk3r

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