#first year with our fake tree

[majoraswrath]

Christmas tree is up 🎄

[andypantsx3]

𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 : 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑖 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑜 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 : 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖𝑖𝑖

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: In order to placate your anxious mother, you agree to return to your hometown to participate in a mating run—knowing full well that betas rarely get chased, never mind betas nearly old enough to age out of the practice. You’ve decided to treat it like a vacation, a chance to visit with your childhood friends, the mating run itself a nice relaxing hike. All in all it’s a solid plan—until alpha Todoroki Shouto, your best friend's little brother,steps in and blows it all to pieces. 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡: omegaverse, no quirks au, alpha!shouto, beta!reader, mating rituals, age gap, best friend’s little brother, older reader, afab reader, some class differences, aged up characters, semi-public sex, slight small town romance vibes, background implied dabihawks for some reason, smut, 18+; mdni! 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ: 5.7k | chapter 3 of 4

Then

“I want to climb trees, this is so boring,” Touya complained, face down on the sofa.

You flung a piece of plastic pizza at him, laughing when it bounced off his back. Touya turned to give you the evil eye, daggers in his gaze.

“Keigo and Rumi will be here soon, can you just wait?” you asked.

On your other side, Shouto made an unhappy grunt, leaning out from behind you to give Touya a narrow-eyed little gaze. “Y/N is busy. Do not interrupt,” he said primly.

Touya grunted. “Y/N isn’t yours, you little shit. Y/N is my friend.”

Shouto puffed up next to you, little hand gripping your shirt. “Y/N is mine, Touya.” His mismatched gaze was intense where it fixed on his older brother, like he was trying to set him on fire with his eyeballs.

You shifted in between them with years of long practice, blocking their line of sight. Brothers.

“I really want to play house, if only someone would stop arguing and play with me,” you said, making sure to sound extra pathetic. That always got Shouto.

As expected, he immediately abandoned Touya, patting you as if to reassure you. “Of course I will play with you, Y/N,” he pronounced solemnly, like he was declaring some oath of office.

You snorted, turning back to Shouto’s kitchen playset with him. It had been Touya’s first, several years ago when you first visited the Todoroki house. Back then he still deigned to play with it, bossing you around like the alpha of the house, though you didn’t quite think he was going to grow up as one. Then you’d gotten too old for it, preferring video games or board games or ranging around the neighborhood, up to little good.

Today was a rare day that Keigo was permitted to come out and run around the neighborhood with you, but you had to wait for him to get here first with Rumi. And so you’d allowed Shouto to drag you over to the kitchen set while you waited, he its final owner.

“What shall I make you, Mr. Todoroki?” you asked Shouto, shifting the little plastic frying pan around on the wooden stove top. “I make a mean sliced banana. Or a sandwich, or chicken.”

Shouto moved to sit next to you, peering at his options. “I want to make it with you.”

You smiled. “You don’t want me to cook it for you?”

Shouto shook that mop of scarlet and white hair. “I want to do it together.”

You laughed. “Alright, then how about you cut up the veggies for our sides and our sandwich, and I’ll cook the chicken.”

Shouto laid out a myriad of plastic vegetables on the counter, levering his plastic knife through the velcro in their center with great concentration. You tried not to reach out and pinch his cheek for how cute he was. You didn’t understand how Touya got so annoyed with all his younger siblings when they were this sweet.

You got to work frying your plastic pile of chicken, laying it out on fake plates across the carpet when you were done. Shouto carefully placed the sliced vegetables next to it, and then the two of you bent over the pieces of a sandwich, layering in the plastic onion, tomato, lettuce, and bread.

“Shall we make you up a plate, Touya?” you asked. Touya just flashed you a rude gesture from the couch.

“This is only for you,” Shouto insisted, pushing your plate at you. You grinned down at him, passing over the fake cutlery.

“Well thank you, chef Shouto. I am honored to be worthy enough of your cooking,” you said.

Shouto’s little cheeks flushed, as if embarrassed. He pretended to take a bite out of his sandwich, and then a swig out of his fake bottle of milk.

“So, how was work?” he asked, out of nowhere.

You blinked at him, then startled into another laugh. Oh, so he wanted to play real house, like you were married. So funny.

You pretended to take a thoughtful bite of your own meal. “Very busy and tiring,” you said. “I couldn’t wait to come home.”

Shouto scooted a little bit closer to you, pushing some of his fake veggies at you, their velcro innards rolling. “You need to eat a lot to keep your energy,” he pronounced. “Until I can make enough money that you do not have to work so hard.”

You grinned. So he thought he was going to be the breadwinner, huh? Not super traditional for an omega, but times were changing. You couldn’t imagine an alpha who wouldn’t want to provide for sweet little Shouto, though, so that was something he and his life mate were going to have to negotiate.

“We’re already rich, idiot,” Touya said from the couch. “Mom said we all have an inheritance.”

Shouto’s eyebrow twitched, like he was annoyed Touya was intruding on this private domestic discussion.

“Then you can have my inheritance,” he insisted to you, though you knew he had absolutely no idea what that meant.

You pretended to think on this.

“What if I use some of it to open my bookstore, and then pay you back the profits?” you asked.

Touya thought your dream of a bookstore was stupid, so you anticipated his annoyed grunt from the couch. But you still liked the idea of it. Ever since you were little, you’d wanted to own one of the brick-faced shops right along the waterfront, somewhere you could walk to from your house. You’d pile it high with thousands of books and plants and string-lights and have all your friends come over after hours to hang out.

You didn’t want to leave your hometown like so many people did. You wanted to make a home right here on the coast, where you could watch over your mom and hang out with Shouto and Touya and Keigo and Rumi.

Though these days you’d become aware that starting a business required upfront money first. Hopefully you would figure out how to get some by the time you graduated highschool. But the Todoroki inheritance would work nicely for your fantasy bookstore.

“You do not have to pay me back the profits,” Shouto insisted. “If we are married.”

You laughed. “Right, right. Then they’re our profits.”

“This is sickening,” Touya said, his voice muffled into a pillow.

You wiggled your eyebrows at Shouto, considering saying something that would bait Touya, but then the doorbell rang. Touya shot up off the couch, rushing over to let in his saviors.

“Looks like Keigo and Rumi are here,” you told Shouto. “Thank you for a delicious dinner.”

Some tiny flicker crossed Shouto’s serious little face, something like annoyance, which you so rarely saw on him. “I want to make it together again.”

You nodded, patting his fluff of multicolored hair. “Yeah, we’ll do it again. Next time we’ll even do dessert, okay?”

Shouto looked momentarily appeased. “And you’ll eat it all. So you have energy.”

You laughed, yanking on one of the strands of his hair fondly. “Absolutely. You take such good care of me, Shouto.”

A pleased little smile turned the corner of his mouth. He placed a hand on your knee as you heard Keigo and Rumi spill into the house, the rustle of Rumi and Touya immediately tussling.

“I will take good care of you always,” Shouto said seriously. “You have my word.”

“I trust it,” you said. And you knew he meant it.

Todoroki Shouto was such a sweet boy, and he was going to make someone a very good not-pretend husband one day. You waved to him as Rumi looped a nut-brown arm over your neck, pulling you outside.

These days, you’d been aware that life was not going to be as stable as you’d always assumed it would be as you grew up. But you hoped you’d still be around to see Shouto grow up too, married and happy like that with his own real life partner some day.

You wondered where you would be when that finally happened.

Now

The next few days proved a test of your resolution to be normal about Shouto.

Everywhere you went, it seemed like Shouto was there—or maybe you were the problem, finding yourself drawn to wherever he was.

You took meals at the Todoroki house a couple more times, eating them out of house and home like you had as a teen—Shouto always stopping by too to eat something on his way on or off a shift. Twice your morning runs had taken you by the fire station, only to see a pair of mismatched eyes tracking you curiously from the engine bay, burning hot on your back as you quickly scurried away, feeling insane.

Shouto joined Touya when he met you and Rumi and Keigo for drinks one evening, Touya looking just as chagrined to have his baby brother tagging along as he had when you were kids.

“Shouto-duty,” he’d growled, the same as when you were little and he was charged with Shouto’s care. Shouto’s face had gone carefully blank, the paragon of innocence, and you’d laughed as he angled himself into the booth across from you.

Of course you’d quickly shut up when he’d pressed his calf up against yours, his long legs unfurling under the table. You’d quickly jerked your leg aside to make space for him, but he stretched out further, an ankle pressing to yours. He didn’t seem to mind, although it made your face warm for some reason.

Shouto had been good company, and had patiently endured Rumi’s hair ruffling and Keigo’s incessant teasing. He’d even walked you home at the end of the evening, like a protective alpha, even though you were not an omega and could damn well take care of yourself. And he’d lingered as you’d unlocked the door, smiling his tiny, careful little smile, and looking almost like he was waiting for something.

You’d bitten out a strangled good night and quickly barricaded yourself inside the house, lest you do something stupid.

That had the unfortunate effect of making you feel even more like a girl returning home from a date, however, and your mother had been almost beside herself with glee when she’d caught a hint of Shouto’s scent as you’d jerked the door closed behind you.

“An alpha?” she’d prompted again, abandoning her soap opera to lean over the couch arm eagerly.

“It’s just Shouto,” you’d explained hastily, waving your arms, a little loose with the drinks you’d had. “It’s not anything.”

Your mother’s eyebrows had gone up. “I thought he was your child bride.”

You hissed, shushing her, casting a stricken glance at the open window. You hoped Shouto had turned around immediately and gotten out of hearing range or you were going to have to kill your own mother.

“He is like my orderly, helping me off the shuttle back into the retirement home,” you said, turning and emphatically shedding your jacket and shoes, effectively ending the conversation.

But that hadn’t been the end of it. You’d seen Shouto a million times more since then, culminating in a final sighting the night before the run.

You’d ducked out to the grocery, intent on gathering up a day’s worth of supplies for the run. For most people it was over within a few hours—omegas had a thirty minute head start but usually went no further than a mile out, the ritual no longer the strict test of a mate it might have been back before things like showers and wifi and nine-to-fives were invented. But you always went to the coast, a hike of at least an hour or two, and you needed to stay up your tree for at least a few more while the more daring omegas who’d come out around you were summarily hunted down and properly bedded.

With the hike back accounted for, it usually took up most of the day, and you’d long learned your time was best spent with a book, a few bottles of water, and several snacks on hand.

You recognized Shouto’s distinctive mop of hair and broad shoulders as soon as you turned onto the produce aisle. He’d seemed somehow to sense you already—though betas were notoriously harder to scent than omegas—mismatched eyes already pinned to you as you rounded the corner.

You startled, your basket jerking in your grip.

“Hi Shouto,” you said, sidling up to him.

Shouto watched you approach, a tiny smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Y/N,” he intoned, peering curiously into your basket. A long-fingered, elegant hand reached out to touch the snacks you’d gathered there, everything but the apple you’d been targeting when you’d turned into this aisle.

“For the run?” Shouto guessed, eyes darting back up to catch yours.

You could feel your face flushing in acknowledgement of the ridiculousness of your participation. “Yes,” you said, dredging up a grin. You were happy to see him. “With any luck, and a heaping dollop of guilt, hopefully my last ever. I’m going all out.”

Something flickered behind Shouto’s eyes, a sort of glint you’d never seen before. For some reason the hair on the back of your neck raised. Maybe an alpha thing.

“With any luck,” he repeated, his voice rich, strangely deep.

You wiggled your basket of snacks at him. “What about you? Making preparations for the big day?”

Shouto’s eyes followed the basket as you dropped it back down to your side. “Yes. I was hoping to make something, for after.”

Your eyebrows shot up, a wave of helpless affection for him rising in you. “For your life mate? To take them home to?”

Shouto nodded, his scarlet and white strands falling into his eyes. He was so, so good.

You couldn’t help but reach out and pinch him, right on his rib cage. “You are too pure to be related to your family.”

Shouto blinked, eyelashes fluttering. His gaze was a little darker where it caught yours again. “I would not be so sure.”

You took a step back, slightly startled by this assertion. Another flush heated your cheeks, and you pinched him again for good measure. “Respect your elders’ opinions, brat.”

Shouto’s gaze softened, and he stepped closer, catching your fingers in his before you could do too much damage. Your heart hammered to a stop in your chest, your hand suddenly burning beneath his.

“Let me make you something,” he said, his tone dipping low again.

A surprised breath escaped you. “Like lunch? For tomorrow?”

Shouto watched you for a long moment before answering. “That, as well.”

“Oh, then you meant like, for dinner tonight?” You frowned, wracking your brain for his meaning, and coming up short.

That wry little smile played about Shouto’s mouth again. “Yes, dinner tonight, too.”

You squinted at him, unclear what he was trying to do here. “Touya says you’re a shit cook and that’s why you come eat all Rei’s cooking.”

Shouto’s face went pointedly blank. “I am passable.”

“I’ve heard conflicting reports.”

“Then perhaps you can help me.” Shouto’s fingers curled around yours more tightly. “I will purchase, and you direct the operation.”

Your mind suddenly flickered back, catching the wisp of an afternoon years ago, bent over Shouto’s fake plastic cookware, a tiny, round-faced Shouto insisting he’d provide for you. Cooking together, you directing Shouto to cut the plastic veggies along their velcro strips while you diligently fried your plastic chicken. Your heart swelled.

“In the interest of you not food poisoning your life mate your first night together, I’m willing to show you a thing or two,” you said, peering up at him, feeling slightly giddy.

Shouto’s mouth quirked. “I will watch carefully.”

You grinned. “Alright. What are we thinking for meals then?”

It turned out Shouto already had a plan in mind—fried chicken karaage, with marinated vegetable sides, and for lunch some jam-packed wanpaku sandwiches to keep your energy up out in the preserve tomorrow. He made a second pass through the snack aisle, seeming to pull in doubles or triples of everything you’d collected in your basket so far. Then he even snuck in two pieces of chocolate cake in the bakery section, crowned with little dollops of fresh whipped cream.

Shouto dumped your entire basket into his as well, holding you off with a strong arm when you made a grab for it, and ignored your protests all the way through checkout.

“Shouto, that’s my lunch, I should pay,” you insisted, getting a little hot in the face again when he was easily able to fend you off with one arm despite your genuine efforts. God, that was—you needed to not think about that.

“I once promised to take good care of you,” Shouto said, leading the way out of the store. You followed, realizing you had no idea where he lived now.

“You were a baby. You also promised me your entire inheritance,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Plus starting tomorrow you are going to have a life mate to provide for.”

Shouto turned to look down at you, eyes dragging down your face. “I will.”

“Okay then we’re agreed,” you said, digging around in your bag for his change. Shouto’s stride lengthened, however, like he was trying to dodge you. You hurried after him, swearing like Touya, and found yourself all but chasing him towards the waterfront, suddenly freezing when Shouto turned onto one of the shop-lined streets, stopping just before a familiar little brick building.

“Shouto—you live above this?” you asked, creeping forward to look in through the window.

The shop stood empty, as it had the day you’d graduated high school, but you could see it was well-maintained, new flooring installed in a warm light wood and windows shined to crystal clarity. “I used to be obsessed with this place, this is where I thought my bookshop was going to be!” you said, unsure if you were talking to Shouto or yourself.

The soft clink of Shouto’s key paused in the door. “I know,” he said. “I remember you telling me.”

You turned back to him, smiling. “That was a million years ago and you were like, barely out of the womb.”

Shouto’s eyes pinned you with an alarming intensity, grey and blue points burning through you. “I remember everything you have ever told me.”

Your breath wooshed out of you, leaving you startlingly vulnerable. You desperately scrambled for verbal cover. “I—you are so full of it. You weren’t even speaking words yet when I met you.”

Shouto’s mouth quirked again, and he gestured you inside. You followed behind him, trying not to admire the way his broad shoulders filled up the breadth of the stairwell, the way his thighs bunched in his jeans as he took the stairs.

No. That way lay danger.

Shouto’s apartment had the same lovely blonde wood across the floors as the shop downstairs, and a huge bay window overlooking the coast where you imagined you could see the sun come up over the water in the mornings. The rest of the apartment was modern in style, though strangely minimalist, as though Shouto hadn’t filled it with very many of his own things.

“My life mate will need room,” he explained, unloading the groceries on the counter.

Your heart twisted at that, and you purposefully set about drinking in your fill of Shouto’s space before someone else filled it in for him. You admired the large, cushiony couch, chosen as if Shouto had imagined a thousand nights cuddled up on it with someone else, what appeared to be a super old but working fireplace, and the neatly arranged rows of hanging copper pots, which you could tell almost never got used.

It smelled like him, his alpha scent everywhere, like sweet campfire smoke on a cold breeze. It made you want to curl up in here and never leave.

“It’s amazing, Shouto. Your mate is going to just die over this,” you said, totally charmed.

You tried hard to ignore the little tinge of jealousy souring your gut.

Shouto’s gaze flashed up to yours, his long fingers arranging the groceries neatly on his countertops. “I would prefer if no one died,” he said solemnly.

You laughed. “You know what I mean.”

“I had hoped you would like it,” Shouto said, something pleased in his deep tone.

“I love it. You’ll have to invite me back over next time I’m in town,” you said.

Shouto’s fingers hesitated over a tomato, and a small, shy sort of smile pulled at his mouth as he peered down at it. “Perhaps even sooner.”

You blinked, mystified. You weren’t going to have time before you left for the city again, not with the run tomorrow, and definitely not if Shouto spent the traditional several days curled up here with his life mate afterwards.

“Yeah sometime,” you said vaguely, trying not to think too hard on it.

You had sort of enjoyed being Shouto’s favorite when you were kids, your time and attention prioritized even above Touya’s. But Shouto was all grown up now and it was time for him to have a new favorite—you probably hadn’t been his since you’d graduated and disappeared into the city to generate parental support money. It had been years.

“Anyway let’s get this stuff prepped, sous-chef Shouto,” you said, coming around the counter to his side. “I’m thinking the old plan of attack—you slice the veggies, I’ll fry the chicken?”

Shouto’s mouth pulled in a wider smile than you’d seen in a long time, a heart-stoppingly handsome flash of white. You gripped the counter carefully.

“I’d like that,” he said.

He set himself up with a knife and a cutting board, and set you up with a few small bowls for breading, flour, and egg. You noticed he sliced his vegetables a little more dexterously than the velcro veggies of years past—though certainly not expertly. The two of you worked in easy tandem as you whisked the egg, then laid all your chicken pieces out as you waited for the pot on the stove to warm.

The peace was only broken when Shouto suddenly leaned over you, bringing with him a puff of that delicious campfire scent. Your breath reflexively seized in your lungs as you froze, hyperaware of him as his hand went to the side of your hip. He gently pulled you out of range of one of his drawers, moving you like you were an expected piece of his kitchen—like his life mate he was long-used to dancing around, pressing close enough that you could feel the heat of him.

Something like electricity spiked across all of your nerve endings. You tried not to shiver with the feeling of Shouto’s soft exhale over your shoulder, the heavy weight of his hand on your hip as he slid open one of his drawers.

It took you a few moments to recover enough that you realized he’d been pulling out plastic wrap. He hadn’t been curled over your back just for the intimacy of it—god, you were such a fucking creep.

You peeled yourself out of Shouto’s hands and beat a hasty retreat to his fridge, scrounging around for the ingredients you’d need to make the vegetable seasonings. The warm kabocha and fried chicken were going to make perfect leftovers for Shouto and his mate to scarf down after a windy run along the coast tomorrow.

Maybe you’d try to make something similar when you made it back to your mom’s tomorrow. Although, come to think of it, you didn’t really want to be reminded of Shouto stuffed up back here with someone else.

A frown pulled at your mouth, and you pinched your thigh, gathering yourself back together. What Shouto did with his own life mate was none of your business. You needed to remember that.

When Shouto finished cutting up the vegetables you helped him arrange everything into two enormous sandwiches, then covered in plastic wrap and stowed in his fridge to set. He watched you carefully as you fried the chicken, hovering closely behind you like a tall, handsome shadow. You fought against some strange impulse to lean back against his chest, watching the chicken burble in the oil with an intense focus. Shouto didn’t seem to mind the sudden quiet, smiling a small half-smile when you turned back to him.

When it seemed ready, you fished the chicken out, setting it on paper towels to absorb the excess. Shouto followed you, taking hold of your face as you turned back to him.

You froze for the second time, pulse racing, as his fingers came up to brush along your cheek, just under your eye. The touch was gentle but firm, and his gaze swept over you assessingly. He seemed to linger for a long moment—until he came away with flour across his thumb.

A weird sense of disappointment twisted your gut as Shouto looked it over. How embarrassing.

“Oh, thanks,” you managed to say, swiping at your face yourself.

Shouto’s mouth quirked softly. “As I said, I did once promise to take care of you.”

Your face went warmer, and you deliberately did not think about how much you liked that. The only person taking care of you was you, and it was going to have to be that way for the foreseeable future. Flour was only flour.

“Again, you were a baby. You needed taking care of more than me,” you accused.

Shouto shifted closer, an intent look settling over his features. “I am not a child any longer.”

That much was upsettingly clear these days. But that was beside the point.

“Neither of us are,” you agreed. “And I assure you, other than the occasional flour mishap, I am excellent at taking care of myself now. You on the other hand, with all these unused pots…”

Shouto’s eyes lingered on your face. To your horror he absently brought his thumb to his mouth, tongue barely flicking out to lick the flour—and that ended the discussion immediately.

Your face immediately flamed, overcome with shit you absolutely should not be thinking, and you shooed him away to fetch plates. Shouto let himself be shooed, looking contemplative.

When he returned with plates, you busied yourself serving up two large portions of rice, followed by crispy golden fried chicken, cucumber salad, and soft, steaming kabocha. It all looked excellent, if you did say so yourself, practically Michelin-starred compared to the plastic meal you’d made together all those years ago.

Shouto led you over to the coffee table and you both took positions on the floor, your back against his couch.

“This reminds me so much of when we were little,” you said, grinning. “Except the couch is mercifully devoid of any complaining.”

The indent at the side of Shouto’s mouth deepened. “I prefer the lack of Touya as well.”

You laughed, biting into your chicken, pleased when it tasted as good as it looked. Hopefully Shouto’s life mate was going to love it. Shouto looked like he liked it too, his long eyelashes fluttering over the tops of his cheekbones as he chewed. Your stomach flipped.

“So how was work?” you asked Shouto, flipping the script on him from when he was younger.

An electric blue eye cut sideways towards you, like he remembered too.

“Very busy and tiring,” he repeated, almost an exact parroting of your words, if you remembered correctly. “I could not wait to come home.”

“You really do remember a lot,” you said, impressed.

Shouto took a mouthful of squash, chewing neatly. Was it normal to look that pretty when eating?

“As I said,” he said, something slightly smug in his voice.

You rolled your eyes—Todorokis—and took your own mouthful of food, chewing thoughtfully.

“You’re so similar and yet so different,” you informed him when you’d finished. “I’m sad I missed you graduating school, and the academy. You’ve really grown up into an amazing person, Sho.”

Shouto’s chopsticks wavered over his plate, and a pink flush stained his cheeks.

“I had always wanted you to think so, when we were younger,” he said slowly, eyes fixed on his plate.

You smiled. “You were so cute. I was always going to think so. Even when I thought you were going to grow up an omega and had no idea what career you might have wanted. You were just good, I think.”

The tip of Shouto’s ear went red, almost matching the left side of his hair.

You couldn’t help but continue, warmed by how much the praise clearly meant to him. “Touya was my best friend but I liked spending the time with you, even though you were that much younger. I am sorry I haven’t been able to stick around and spend more of it with you.”

Shouto took a deliberate bite of rice, like he was calming himself.

“Your job in the city,” he said, when he finished. “Do you like it?”

You shook your head, snorting. “It’s fine. If I had a say I’d be running that storefront just below us, but my job is at least guaranteed money for mom. I don’t mind, though I do regret not coming back here enough.”

Shouto seemed to take a moment to think on this. “But you would quit it, if you could,” he said.

You nodded. “Yeah, I think so. But like I said, it’s not so bad. And it’s pretty good money for a single income if I do say so myself.”

Shouto turned to watch you. “It would be easier if you had your life mate,” he said.

You paused, considering the weight of this statement. “Well yeah. But as you know, not everyone finds theirs. And as a beta I’m sort of stuck waiting for my life mate to find me—I’ve sometimes wondered if any of those alphas I hid up a tree from were actually it, all those years ago. But something tells me no. So I’m doing my own thing in the meantime.”

“Do you hope to find your life mate, this time?” Shouto asked, pinning you with an intense look. He’d abandoned his food it seemed, watching you with singular focus. It was slightly unnerving.

You wondered how best to answer without making him pity you.

“I’ve always hoped, but I’ve never counted on it,” you said. “But one thing is for certain—I wouldn’t accept just anyone. I’m not going to end up like my parents did.”

Shouto’s fingers shifted on the table top, and he seemed to be holding them out to you. You carefully placed your hand in his, gratified when his hand closed over yours, thumb smoothing your skin.

“You are not,” Shouto said, sounding sure. “You will have a life mate who has cared for you and will care for you his whole life.”

He sounded like he meant it. He was so sweet all these years later.

You flushed, embarrassed by his declaration. “Okay. I’ll—trust you on that.”

Shouto looked satisfied, letting your hand go so you could return to your food. You both scarfed down the rest of your meals, like the two of you were storing up enough energy for tomorrow, and then Shouto pressed a slice of chocolate cake on you, too, insistent.

He watched you eat it with the supervisory focus of a mother—or an alpha with his omega, a thought that you immediately put back out of mind.

You let him feed you too much, happy for the extra time in his company, laughing and chatting and reliving shared memories. You insisted on helping him with the dishes, too, washing everything as he packed up the leftovers, and then sorted out your prepared sandwich and the snacks he’d purchased for you. He didn’t let you out of his sight even as he did so, moving in front of you to block your access to your bag when you remembered you owed him money.

Shouto kept hold of it on the way to the door, too, so you couldn’t dig out cash and fling it before running out—he really did know too much about you after all these years.

Once he surrendered your bag to you, he leaned forward, fingers finding the side of your face again, cupping it and turning it up to his.

You went perfectly, embarrassingly still in his hold, breath coming short. His thumb smoothed across your cheek, and a private little smile pulled at his mouth.

“I will see you tomorrow,” he promised, his tone rich and dark, like the chocolate cake you’d just had.

You barely resisted a shiver, having to manually kickstart your lungs again, breathing in and out deliberately.

“Only if your life mate goes so far,” you said. “I hope for your sake they keep things easy.”

Shouto’s smile widened a bit. “They will not.”

You tried not to be too irritated at whoever it was. Only an idiot would make it so hard for an alpha like Todoroki Shouto.

“Well then, good luck,” you told him. “I’ll be on the lookout for you from my tree. And I’ll have snacks if you need them.” You rattled your bag.

Shouto’s eyes roved over your face, something warm in his gaze. “You will see me,” he said. “Though I do not plan to need any luck.”

Okay that was—he was not allowed to be that confident. That damn omega had no idea how lucky they were.

It took everything you had to wrench yourself away from him, only the knowledge that he was meant for someone else carrying you away. You made yourself salute him, smiling. Then you bid him good night, promising to text him when you got in, and scurried off to your mother’s house, trying to put yourself on the right track again.

You scolded yourself as you readied for bed, dropping a kiss on your mother’s head as you passed her asleep on the couch. You would not be a weenie about this. You were, at least, glad that Shouto was going to find his happiness tomorrow.

Even if you envied them even more tonight after seeing the life Shouto had built for them to share. Even if you wished, despite all odds, that you could find a life mate to share yours, too.

[stellewriites]

Part Two

Summary: When John gets an unexpected invite to his ex-wife’s wedding, he scrambles to find a suitable date to take with him to ward off old ghosts from his past.

Notes: trans John, fat reader, subtle transphobia from minor characters

John was sat in his flat watching a Match of the Day rerun for a football game he’d missed while away when his phone buzzed on the kitchen counter.

His head swivelled over to it to see if it buzzed again, determining it unimportant enough to ignore for the time being when it stayed silent. Kate always called, so it wasn’t work and anyone else that was texting him after 9pm could wait.

It buzzed a second time, then a third and a fourth in quick succession and he felt curiosity twinge at the base of his skull. He pushed himself up, ignoring when one of his knees popped, and grabbed his phone.

Your name flashed up on the screen and he opened the chat without hesitation.

>> the photos from today, don’t forget to swap them out :)

He flicked through the photos you’d sent before picking one at random to save.

John sat back on his couch and agonised over swapping his lock screen.

It was currently an old photo of Charlotte from their honeymoon, and it had stayed that way this entire time in spite of the divorce. He had kept her there even when he’d removed her photos from his desk and was unable to put any up in his new flat. His little secret. Though he knew Kate had seen it despite his best efforts to leave his civilian phone at his flat or turned off during his office hours.

But now…

He felt almost queasy as he selected the new photo. It felt like the first of many final nails in the relationship’s coffin that John would have to deal with over the next month in the lead up to Charlotte’s big day.

It felt like he was mourning a relationship already six years dead.

---

John adapted quickly to seeing your face on his phone screen at the end of the day over the next two weeks, even if he did miss seeing Charlotte’s cheery smile, and found it just as easy to accept seeing your name pop up more and more frequently when you messaged with a new question you’d thought of regarding the wedding or your fake relationship.

It was easy to talk to you, he found. Easy to let his guard down just a tinge and to try and bury the hurt he felt.

>> what’s a childhood story you’d have told me about a couple months in?

<< I fell out of a tree when I was 12, was meant to be grounded at the time so I had to walk home with broken ribs and a scraped up arm and leg. Tried to pretend nothing had happened when my mum got back from work, but it didn’t fool her.

>> i broke my arm climbing a tree too, maybe one of our dates should’ve been at a forest climbing adventure place lol

<< You wouldn’t have wanted to be wined and dined?

>> sure but it can get a little boring

>> you wouldn’t have wanted to hypothetically stare at my arse cinched in climbing gear?

>> were there food options for the wedding? like on planes? i’m not a veggie so you dodged a bullet if you chose a main with meat but i do love pasta if we’re able to swap last minute

<< Everyone loves pasta.

<< And no, think it’s an open buffet.

>> i’ll bring a doggy bag for snacks on the way home then

>> waste not, want not

<< Say that in front of my dad and he might just add you to his will.

>> this is the dress I have in mind, what do you think?

<< Good choice.

>> glowing praise, john, i’ll take that as it won’t cause a scandal among the locals

<< Don’t think you’ll be the one causing a scandal, Sunshine.

It was in a rare occasion he’d texted you first that you arranged to meet up a second time. He’d asked about the plans you’d mentioned a few days back and was currently waiting for a reply while he tried to slog through his own work.

>> was super excited for the play today but I think I might have to cancel my tickets, my friend was driving us there but her kid has gotten sick so she can’t go now :/

<< Where were you going?

>> it’s at a park on the other side of the city with the outdoor stage, i could grab a couple of buses but i don’t know if i’d make it in time

John put down the dry sandwich he was eating and looked at the meeting reports he’d been ignoring for the last ten minutes while texting you.

<< I’ll come pick you up.

>> really??

<< Sure. Send me your address and I’ll be there soon, Sunshine.

John had barely parked up outside your house before you were opening the door and giving him an excited smile and wave.

“I love stuff like this anyway, but this community group have put on some amazing portrayals of Shakespeare’s plays over the years despite their low budget and they make it so accessible with cheap tickets and the outdoor venue. It’s cut down so the teens performing have a better chance at remembering their lines, but it’s always one hell of a forty-five minute show. I think it’s Othello this time, but honestly I’d watch anything,” you rambled as you buckled your seatbelt. “It’s always good to support local art.”

“So we’re seeing Shakespeare?” John confirmed.

“It’s at the open air theatre inside the park.”

“Been a while since I went to the theatre, longer than that since I’ve been in a park.”

“What do you do in your off time?” You asked with a snort.

“Don’t get much off time,” John said easily, unbothered. It was him after all that had decided work would become his priority.

“Well then I’m glad we’re getting to see this together,” you said. “I’ve had a pretty long week too.”

“Hm?”

At his inquisitive hum you fell into complaining about your managers and the long, tiring shifts you pulled.

It didn’t take you long in the car to get to the park however and you were soon jumping out. You gaped a little when John got out and joined you at the front of the car.

“Holy hell you’re tall, shit a brick,” you said, staring. You’d noticed he was broad at the café and he seemed to fill the cab of his pick-up, but he’d been slumped and seated both times so you’d assumed he was maybe creeping just below 6’ and the rest was his attitude that made him seem all encompassing. Looking at him stood up to his full height now was something else, even as he tucked his chin down and slumped his shoulders to speak with you. “I think we’ll have to sit at the back for this or someone might complain.”

John rolled his eyes but you saw the hint of a smile play at his lips as he agreed.

You led him eagerly to the crowd you could see gathering at the entrance of the outdoor stage; the front four rows of the small open air auditorium had been unfolded for the event, suggesting the size of the crowd expected. You both elected to take a seat on the back row as others started to head to the front, but he nudged you fondly when he saw you shift excitedly waiting for it to start.

John pulled out his phone when he felt it buzz in his pocket, but put it back when he saw it was just a reminder to sort out his tux for the wedding.

“Cute pic,” you said with a sly smile when you caught his lock screen. “We should take another, might be more convincing if we have more than one photo of us doing stuff together, right?”

John leant into your side and hesitantly wrapped his arm around you, stiff where it draped over the back of your seat, for the photo.

You were no better, your smile suddenly tight at the corners as you took a quick snap. You held your breath until he moved back, his aftershave surprisingly enticing and the warmth and weight of his arm too inviting.

It wouldn’t do for you to become attracted to John, not that it was something you could control, you knew. But maybe if you just wished it hard enough it wouldn’t make the weekend away with him more difficult than it had to be; falling for a man still blatantly in love with his ex never ended well for anyone.

You smiled a little weakly at him when nudged you again, nodding at the community group making their way onto the stage in front of the clapping crowd.

Maybe attraction would be fine you decided, already knowing how impulsively forgetful and weak-willed you got when your vibrator was between your legs - you could already imagine his name slipping through loose lips, and you couldn’t blame yourself for it as you sneakily took in his side profile - just as long as there were no real feelings from your side.

---

You’d graduated from texting to calling when John mentioned one night that he found it hard to multitask while at work. You’d offered to leave him alone and talk to him once he was done later but he’d been quick to interrupt, said instead that although he couldn’t text and write at the same time, he’d be fine talking and writing.

It’s how he found himself sat at his desk with his phone propped next to him on speaker, listening to you complain about the shitty restaurants near your work.

“I need to get back into meal prepping, or at least start buying something nicer pre-made to bring for lunch. If I have to eat another Greggs meal deal I think I’ll throw up, John,” you bemoaned.

“There’s a new place just opened up ‘round the corner to you, you know?” He said, checking over his team’s reports before signing them off. At your interested hum he continued. “Greek place I think. The sergeants went the other day, said it was a good menu and they’re usually quite picky about where they spend their free time together.”

“That sounds perfect, I’ll meet you there in twenty?” You asked rhetorically, already gathering your stuff to take your lunch break. “I can order for us both in case it takes you longer so it’ll be served by time you arrive. See you in a bit, bye!” You didn’t wait for him to confirm or reply in any capacity, too excited for a delicious lunch.

John stared down at his phone where the screen fell black through lack of use at the ended call. He took a moment to recount the conversation and where he’d gotten mixed up before reluctantly dropping his pen and grabbing his coat and keys.

He stopped by Simon’s office on his way out.

“I’m heading out for a quick lunch, won’t be back in time for that meeting with Laswell after all so you’ll need to take notes.” He waited for Simon’s nod before knocking once on the doorframe in thanks and leaving.

Sure he could’ve just sent you a quick text to correct you, or rang you back to explain it was just a recommendation and he didn’t have the time to join you.

But he didn’t want to. He wanted to go eat Greek food with you until you were humming happily and rubbing your soft stomach, comfortably full on more than a lukewarm pasty and sad looking iced donut. He wanted to hear about your day at work so far and what you’d been up to with your friends on Saturday evening when your replies had slowed down.

He wanted.

It had been a long time since John had felt that way. Given most of the people he’d consider friends were people he worked with and kept their personal lives close to their chests, it wasn’t often he wanted to do much more than spend a couple hours in a pub after a rough mission with them.

You were quickly solidifying yourself a space in John’s life as a friend, whether you knew it or not. Whether you liked it or not. And as a result, he didn’t want to leave you to eat on your own knowing you to be a social butterfly, even after such a short time. John was known to be protective - some had said possessive - of those he considered his. And being his friend meant that you would given the same effort of care and consideration that he gave his team, it just needed to be applied differently.

It wouldn’t be through proud shoulder pats after a mission well-done or through unshakeable confidence and trust when he put his life on the line stood side-by-side with the 141.

No, it would be pulling up to hole in the wall restaurants last minute so that you could spend your lunch a little happier than you were when you were sat at your desk.

He found you sat at the back table, the seat facing the front windows and door left free for him to take with silent appreciation.

The food was as good as Gaz and Soap had promised it would be and the sight of you scarfing down baklava before you had to head back to work had him grinning into his glass.

“Christ, I might have to get a to-go box of this for tonight,” you groaned lowly.

“Big plans?” John asked, clearing his throat.

“Just some DIY I’ve been putting off around the house, figure if I entice myself with a treat for after it’s done I’ll be more likely to actually do it.” You go to take your last bite before pausing and pointing at John. “And before you say it, I realise it sounds like how you train a puppy.”

John snorted, but a frown pulled low on his brow. “What needs fixing?”

“My front door is scraping low when I open it, hinges are loose I think. Nothing major but I’d rather not fuck it up, you know? But if I leave it any longer then I’ll need to pay someone to deal with some real damage,” you sighed. “So I’ve borrowed my neighbour’s drill.”

“I’ll do it for ya,” John offered out of nowhere.

“What? No, you don’t have to, you’re busy,” you declined.

“It’s fine, I’ll pop by later tonight. Just let me know when you’re home and I’ll swing by and sort it.”

“I, uh, ok. Sure, thanks, John. I appreciate it,” you said with a grateful, if not bemused, smile.

---

As soon as you opened the door that evening, John noticed how the bottom caught.

“Hi, do you want a drink? A tea?” You offered as you let him in.

“I’d love one, thanks, Sunshine.” He stepped inside and placed his drill case by the doorframe.

“Oh, you brought your own drill? You didn’t have to go home for it, did you?” You fretted as you headed towards the kitchen. “Did I not mention I’d borrowed my neighbour’s?”

“You did. But this was in the back of the truck from Simon borrowing it, it’s not a big deal,” John lied. He’d stopped off to grab it after your lunch together. “Wasn’t sure what your neighbour’s drill was going to be like, but I know this’ll get the job done proper.”

You bit back an amused smile and hummed your assent down the hall as you waited for the electric kettle to boil.

“Thanks again for helping out, John. I can get by doing my own DIY usually; not to brag but I’m kind of a pro at assembling IKEA furniture. Sometimes though it helps having a second person look it over too.” You walked back to the front door as you spoke and held his tea for him as he set up the drill to match the screws in the door.

“It’s no hassle,” he said before setting to work.

A quick three minutes later your door was once again in full working order, no longer sticking when it swung open and closed.

“Good as new,” he said. You passed him his drink, still hot, and grinned, leading him to sit on the couch for a moment. “If y’need anything else fixing up or looking at, just let me know. I’d be happy to help.”

“Opened the floodgates with that offer. You’ll be regretting it soon enough,” you said with a laugh. “This place is a bit of a fixer-upper, ‘s why I could afford it in the first place.”

“You’ve done a good job with it,” he said earnestly, looking around the cosy living room. Would be better if you weren’t alone, he thought suddenly, unbidden. He took a deep sip of his drink and avoided eye contact. “I like being useful, you might as well take advantage of it since no one else is at the moment.”

You smiled softly. “That’s all the permission I need.”

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he slipped it out to see a text from his mum.

>> Make sure your date isn’t wearing white, luv. I’m sure she’s a lovely girl, but we wouldn’t want to spoil Charlotte’s day would we? xxx

<< Her dress is green, nothing to worry about mum. xx

>> Green is a bold choice, must be quite the lady to pull that off! Give her my love. xxx

John sighed as he put his phone down and caught your eye in his peripheral.

He smiled tiredly to ease your worried frown.

“Just my mum checking in, she gives you her love,” he said.

“Mm. She gives you a headache,” you pointed out. “Wedding shit still?”

“It’s her prime focus right now. It’ll be done soon.”

“You want a paracetamol? I’ll top up your tea.” You reached forward for his empty cup.

“Got something stronger?” John asked hopefully.

You winced. “I’ve got a gin ‘n’ tonic in a can that my friend left the other day? Can’t even offer you a strong coffee because it’s decaf.”

“Jesus,” he groaned through a laugh. “Another tea it is.”

---

The morning of the wedding came sooner than you’d expected. The dress that you’d carefully hung on your wardrobe door to avoid creases all those weeks ago would finally be put to use.

You got up early enough to get yourself ready, nervousness unsettling your stomach enough that you stuck to only a slice of toast for breakfast with a strong coffee.

>> Setting off now, I’ll be at yours in 20.

<< you mean you’ll be here by 0900 🫡

>> Funny.

>> See you soon.

You chuckled to yourself as you grabbed your things so you were ready to go when John arrived and double checked everything was locked up for the weekend.

The knock on your door had your heart jump and pound double-time in your chest before you shook your hands out and told yourself to fucking chill. It was just John.

“Hi, you ready to— oh, you look, uhm…” John trailed off as he took in the flowing silk dress you’d bought. He’d seen it before, of course, but now seeing you in it and the way it clung to your curves and highlighted your plush tummy and wide hips had his tongue heavy and lost in his mouth. He swallowed thickly as he looked back up to your face, trying not to linger on the plunged neckline and what it did for your tits, and felt his cheeks redden when he noticed your own flustered, wide-eyed look as you stood and watched him. “You look very nice,” he finished lamely.

“Right, good, thanks.” You tried to force a laugh but your throat felt too dry, even as you grinned at his red cheeks. “You clean up pretty well too,” you said instead and reached your hand out to brush against the neatened trim of his beard, his muttonchops less pronounced.

He stiffened at the unexpected touch, not disliking it, but a memory of Charlotte doing something similar had him flinching back. Charlotte, he remembered, would usually only rub at his beard with a frown and ask when he was going to go clean shaven again.

You didn’t know that however and you snatched your hand back to your side as you felt a chill drop from your chest down to your toes like a bucket of cold water. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” you apologised.

“No, it’s fine. Just caught me off guard,” he said, trying to ease your suddenly tense shoulders and cursing himself for getting lost in old memories.

He led you to the car and held open the door for you, smiling when you thanked him and tucked in your dress to avoid its long length getting trapped in the door.

Once he was sat in the drivers seat he hesitated for a moment before turning to face you.

“‘M glad you like it,” he said with a quick gesture to his beard. “I was thinking about shaving it off for the occasion.”

You winced reflexively at the thought, teeth gritted and bared as you tried to picture him without facial hair. He let out a deep rumble of a laugh, throaty and unfiltered, as you tried to square your face back to a neutral expression, though your eyebrows wouldn’t pull back from their frown.

“I’m sure that would’ve looked… sweet,” you hedged carefully.

John only snorted.

You huffed and rolled your eyes. “Ok I’m a terrible liar,” you started, glaring when John muttered an amused, you don’t say. “If you want to shave and like how it looks, then we can detour back to yours and I’m sure you’ll look just as handsome in whatever photos you’re forced to pose for. But if you’re asking for my opinion? Then I think this suits you better, it’s more distinguished. You’d have looked too much like a banker if you’d shaved and wore a suit,” you said with an exaggerated shiver.

John hummed a chuckle, his shoulders shaking with it. “I’m sure the word you’re thinking of rhymes with banker, Sunshine.”

It was your turn to snort a laugh at that.

“Your words, not mine, John.”

“Cheeky. Put your bloody seatbelt on,” he huffed, a smile pulling at his lips as he started the car. “Suddenly thinking this drive might feel ten times longer than usual for some reason.”

You rolled your eyes and didn’t dignify his jab with a response. Tried not to focus on your pulse racing in excitement.

masterlist

[leah-lover]

Royal support final part.

Jenni Hermoso x Alexia putellas x royal!reader.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

You could cut the tension out with a knife. With the future of our relationship at stake neither one of us dared to talk about it. 

“ How about we eat something first. Are you hungry?” asked Jenni with the sweetest expression on her face. 

You wiped your tears away by the back of your hand and noded in agreement. 

“ What do you say to a grilled cheese and smoothie?” Asked Alexia while her hand caressed your cheek. 

“ Only if I get to watch you two make it for me.” 

“ Of course princess.” 

The tree of you headed to the kitchen where you sat on a stool near the counter and watched as your girls made and plated your snacks.

“ Careful it's hot.” Warned Jenni but it wasn't fast enough. You had already burned your tongue slightly. You fake cried which led Alexia to come to your side and blow on your tongue to alleviate the pain. You took her lips in for a searing kiss like you did earlier in the night. 

“ You can't leave the royal family. It's everything you have ever known. We can't have our relationship weighted by such a heavy burden.” Said Jenni from the other side of the counter 

“ I know how much you guys love football so I can't ask you to leave that either.” you add. 

The air was filled with sadness. Neither one of you dared to speak of the third option. 

“ I can't imagine my life without the ability to taste you again. I love you carino.” Added Alexia with a look of sadness you have never seen before. 

You thought to yourself for a moment. What could you possibly do to contain this relationship? You have a duty  to  your country and to  your people. You are the heir to the throne. You are required to have heirs and uphold the status quo the family kept for so many years. You are required to rule and be present. You can't keep sneaking from the palace to see your lovers who are now prominent public figures. 

“ Five years.” You say. “ Five years is the amount of time left in your careers right?” 

They both nod in confusion.

“ We prioritize our professional lives for 5 years. And once you two retire and escape the limelight and craziness of fans, you live near the place, become friends of the crown, we can live, travel together, have lunches and dinners without anybody suspecting a thing. Just two women who have been long term friends with the queen hanging out with her. You would have fulfilled your dream career and I wouldn't make a big sacrifice.” 

They both look at you puzzled. You can't understand their expression or what is going on in their mind. 

“ But If you are the queen you need to marry and have children.” Said Jenni. 

“ I will sort that out, a marriage for appearances. We would only sleep together to have one baby.” 

Alexia suddenly turned very possessive. 

“ You are mine.” She said, 

“ I am yours and Jenni's and nothing is going to change that. I will only sleep with you and come on your terms.”

“ Will we see each other in these five years?” 

“ Yes but not as often as we do now. Just think about it please?” 

Each one of you spaced out in their own world and not another word is spoken for a long time. 

—-------------

Seven years later. 

“ Her Majesty the queen has announced that she is now on holiday when she spoke to the media on her last appearance at the butterfly foundation this afternoon. She has stated that  after 2 years of being queen of Spain a holiday is in order so that she can be present with her husband and her  5 years old son Alexis.” Said the article given to  your secretary which You just approved. 

You then leave your office. 

“ Ale, come on we need to go.” You semi yell to get your child’s attention. 

Once he joines you, you make your way to the car where Antonio is waiting for you. 

“ king fredric is already in the albeniz palace your highness.” said Antonio. 

“ Good, take me to my lovers then.” 

La mareta was a mansion far away from the palace and it was where your girlfriends were waiting for you. The 2 time world cup champion, 5 time ballon d’or winner Alexia putellas turned Alexia putellas Hermoso after she married her teammates and long time partner Jenni Hermoso who has now turned Jenni putellas Hermoso 5 years ago., was at near the pool with a laptop on her lap writing her long time awaited book when you entered the mansion. 

“ amor I am home.” You announced as you made your way inside the house. Your son ran to find Alexia while you spotted Jenni and ran towards her too. You locked her lips with yours as soon as you got to her, her hands were on hips while yours were on her shoulders. “ I missed you amor.” You say when you broke off the kiss. “ You won't feel like that ever again “ she responded before kissing you again. 

Your kiss was interrupted by sounds of laughter coming from the pool so you two went to check it out only to find Alexis in the water with a fully clothes Alexia. 

“ Mama, I didint mean to push mummy in the pool.” Pleded your son. 

You were surprised when Jenni pushed you too and jumped in herself. And in a  pool of laughter you greeted your other lover with a kiss. 

“ Welcome home.” She said when you two separated. 

She was indeed true because from that point on you found a sense of stability in your relationship. Your son grew up and when he was old enough you step down from your duties making him king while you lived the rest of you days at la mareta with your wives. 

[papercorgiworld]

Christmas saviours

Blaise, Draco, Enzo, Theo and Mattheo

A bit of an angsty beginning because of some Christmas loneliness, but you need not worry our most handsome Slytherins will save Christmas Eve with fluff and kisses.

Warning: only kisses and maybe some suggestiveness

Not proofread, feedback always welcome.

I planned on finishing another fic, but ended up writing Christmas fluff. I hope you enjoy it! I wish you all a wonderful Christmas and for those who don’t celebrate Christmas, I wish you a most wonderful day.

Christmas, you loved it! Every year you celebrated with your family and created some lovely memories. Although you knew this year would be different, you were confident that also this year you would manage to create wonderful memories.

You had only recently moved to the UK and this was your first year at Hogwarts. You were definitely the odd one out. Everyone in your year already knew each other for years and then there was you: new and permanently lost in the castle. You had made some friends, but also weren’t gonna win any popularity contests any time soon.

The news that your parents had to work this Christmas made your stomach turn and your heart physically hurt. However, you were already in the Christmas spirit so you were hopeful that you could still figure something out. You consoled your parents by telling them that it would be good to spend Christmas at Hogwarts to make friends.

And that was the plan. You invited everyone you had ever talked to at Hogwarts and also everyone from your year. And you learned a lot, like some people really need to learn how to say no in a polite way and most people go home for Christmas. Now Christmas eve was only a day away, two people had confirmed they were coming and there were two people left on your list who hadn’t responded. Possibly four people would show up, worst case scenario two.

Being hopeful and in full Christmas spirit you did your shopping, preparing everything for an unforgettable Christmas eve. On your way from Hogsmeade one of your invitees came running towards you. “Hey (y/n), so glad to catch.” You smiled brightly. “Here to help me with the groceries?” Your friend smiled. “Uhm, no, but I’ll help.” You’re pleased you can let go of some of the heavy bags. “I was actually looking for you, because I got great news, my parents made it back in time after all. So, me and my brother are leaving in half an hour. I'm really sorry we gotta miss out on your Christmas dinner.” Your smile fades, but you immediately force a fake one onto your lips.

Walking into the room of requirement you finally fall apart. You watch as Hogwarts conjures the most picturesque Christmas scene you’ve ever seen. Tears softly make their way down your cheeks, but you don’t sob, you try to ignore your misery. With shaky hands you put everything you bought in its designated spot. When you kneel down to set the four small Christmas gifts you bought under the tree you finally admit to yourself that you’ll be spending tomorrow evening alone, unwrapping your own gifts. After your moment of self pity you make your way down to your dorm.

The next morning you decide that there is still hope! Though the chances are slim, there’s still a chance one of the two who haven’t responded yet will show up or maybe both. You try and find them throughout the day, but fail. Around 5 you start dressing up. Around 6 you light the candles for your grand Christmas eve party.

Your heart twists and turns as it's hurting terribly, like it would rather stop beating than suffer another minute of agonizing loneliness. You stuff your face with delicious snacks. “What was I thinking? Like someone was gonna show up. I watched too many mushy Christmas movies. Christmas is overrated anyway! I’m turning into the grinch! Uh, I’m talking to myself! I’m going insane, might as well steal everyone’s Christmas next year.” You stop ranting and grab a plate, ready to start cleaning up and go to bed at 7.

Blaise

Suddenly the door opens and you stare in disbelief as Blaise Zabini walks in. “I was in the neighborhood, though I would stop by.” Like a deer caught in headlights you stand still. “Early? Aren’t I?” He looks around the empty room and continues. “If you want I can help you prepare.” You look down at your feet wondering what to say. “You look absolutely stunning, by the way.” “Thanks.” You put down the plate you were holding and manage to gather enough courage to be honest. “Everything is ready. And you’re not early. No one showed up.”

Blaise seems shocked by the news and makes his way around the table to you. “What? That’s horrible. All your effort.” His hands rest on your arms, giving you comfort. “I’ll live.” You say playing it down, but your glassy eyes betray you. “But why are you here? I expected everyone to be at their respective parties.” Blaise’s lips formed a line and you could see he was in deep thought for a second. “I am.” You looked confused at the Slytherin in front of you. “I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.” You frowned and smiled at the same time. Happy with the news but not quite sure what to think about it.

“So… what’s for dinner?” You wanna question everything he’s doing, but his excitement distracts you and you start telling him about all that you had prepared. You two have a lovely dinner together. Blaise is his most charming self as he wants nothing more than to make you forget that no one else showed up. To any outsider it would look as if you two had planned to spend Christmas together. But you kept wondering why he was here. You had to ask. “Why were you in the neighborhood?” A lot of stutters escaped a normally always easy talker, which made you question whether he was in the neighborhood at all. “There was no reason for you to be here, was there?” Realizing it was pointless to come up with excuses, he confessed. “I know I told you I wasn’t coming to your party but I have a little something and that’s why I stopped by.”

You found his choice of words odd. “A little something? Like a gift?” Blaise thought for a moment. “No, not really. Stand up for me will ya?” He got up and you did the same as he requested. He signaled you to come closer and when you still stood too far away he gently tugged your hand until your chest almost met his. He smiled a little goofy and only after a moment did you realize he was nervous. Blaise reached for something in the inner pocket of his jacket. You watch him carefully pull out a branch of mistletoe. He held in between the two of you. “I brought mistletoe.” You laughed as he stated the obvious. “Isn’t it supposed to be above the person you wish to kiss?” He nodded and reached for his wand.

Casting Levioso made the branch float above the both of you. Blaise reached for both your hands and you in return took a step closer. You were now pressed against one another. “Merry Christmas, (y/n).” He leaned in. “Merry Christmas, Blaise.” You whispered against his lips before kissing him.

Draco

The door slams open and you’re shocked to see Draco Malfoy of all people. Is he lost? He looks around smugly, one hand in his pocket and a smirk on his face. “Quiet the party, new girl.” Gesturing towards the empty room. “Trust me the atmosfeer was great until you came in.” You immediately snapped back. He simply huffed and walked towards the table examining all the different dishes. “So where are you guests?” He asked sincerely but without looking up from the food. “I guess everyone had other parties to attend. Understandable.” Your voice was so soft and defeated it made Draco look up at you worried that you might start crying any moment.

He wasn’t really good at situations like these so he quickly made his way over to the drinks. “May I?” He asked politely, gesturing to a bottle of champagne. You nodded. “But it’s probably too cheap for your taste.” Draco gave the bottle one look, shrugged, and opened it anyway. “I’ve already had expensive champagne and cheap company today. Got bored. So I decided to come here for cheap champagne and better people.” You take the glass he offers you. “I’m sorry, it’s a ‘cheap champagne and no people’ kinda party.” He takes a rather large swing from the glass and looks at you with a softness you’ve never seen before. “I’ll take you and your cheap champagne over my family’s horrible Christmas party anytime. So, will you have me as your guest?” You nod with glittering eyes. You quickly explain all the different options your table offers.

He tastes everything and overflows you with compliments. His table manners are exquisite and he even teaches you some little details of fancy dining. But most of all you spent your time laughing at all the ridiculous parties his family organizes. It helps him vent and your laugh makes him heal, like it’s all alright now that you agree it’s just as absurd as he thinks it is. After you’ve finished dining you turn to the tree and the gifts underneath. “If you still have time I’ve got four gifts under the tree. It’s just little trinkets, but to leave them unopened just feels horrible.” The Slytherin stares at you with wide eyes as you make your way to the tree to pick up one of the gifts. When you turn around with a gift in your hands he gets up from his seat in a hurry. “I can’t stay.” Is all he says as he picks up his scarf.

“Just one gift.” Your voice is almost a whisper and Draco closes his eyes for a moment. “It’s just, I have nothing for you. I come barging in, eating all the food and now gifts, while I have nothing to give-“ “You showed up! You saved my Christmas. You’re like my hero.” Draco feels like he’s going to burst with emotion at your words. He… a hero, it made him feel like a whole different person. “Truth is, (y/n) you saved me and not just my Christmas, all of me.” Only now you realize how close together you are with only the gift between you two. He looks so fragile and that’s probably why you suddenly felt the courage and need to go in for a soft kiss. He was shocked for a moment with eyes wide, but surrendered to your warmth and kissed back, his hand reaching for the back of your head to deepen the kiss.

“Will you now open a gift?” You ask again when you break the kiss. He smiles sheepishly. “Yes, anything for my princess.”

Enzo

“I’m here!” You stare at energetic Berkshire as he comes through the door announcing his presence. “Might have nicked something fancy that might just save your Christmas.” He holds a bottle of expensive firewhisky up. “What are you doing here?” You asked, confused by his presence and enthusiasm. His smile softens and he puts the bottle down on the table. “I had a suspicion that the new girl’s Christmas party wasn’t going to be a great success.” You felt horrible hearing him say the obvious. He walked around the table towards you.

“I’m here to keep you company.” You huff at his offer. “I don’t need your pity. I’m sure you have plenty of other places to be.” Enzo grabs your hand as you try to turn away from him in an attempt to hide your misery. “You need my pity, this is a pitiful party.” You try to force your hand out of his grip but he has a surprisingly tight hold of you and you end up closer to him. “And also, there’s nothing for me at the other parties, because the cute new girl isn’t there.”

You look in his gentle eyes wondering if he really means it. “You want to spend Christmas eve with me?” You ask, almost afraid of the answer. He nods and an adorable smile tugs at your lips as you no longer can contain your happiness. During dinner Enzo catches you up on all the latest gossip. But after a while you get worried if people gossip this much at Hogwarts then for sure they will talk about your lame party. It’s this concern that leads you to ask for a favor. “Uhm. Enzo, about my party… could you not tell anybody. Like I can just say that I canceled it. I mean.. I really don’t want people figuring out about my lame Christmas party.”

“Can’t.” You stare at him as he swallows a bite of his desert. “If your party didn’t happen then where was I. I can’t have people thinking I was alone.” “But telling people you were at the new girl’s lame party won’t do your reputation any good either.” Enzo shakes his head and gets up from his seat opposite of you to take a seat next to you. “Darling, this is not a lame party. It’s a lovely party. We’ve got amazing decorations, delicious food, firewhisky, gifts under the tree and each other. Are you not happy?” You turn to him, feeling a bit embarrassed that you were so caught up with what people would think rather than when you think. “Of course, I was being stupid. This is a lovely Christmas, thank you Enzo.”

His smile turns cheeky. “Yeah, I kind of saved your Christmas eve. Didn’t I?” You nod and give him a kiss on the cheek. “Yes, yes you definitely saved my evening.” Enzo licks his lips in a mischievous way. “A kiss on the cheek?! That's all a guy gets for saving Christmas?” You laugh at his dramatics. You fake a scoff and get up from your seat. “Enzo, have you no shame.” Suddenly he grabs you pulling you into his lap, a giggle escaping your lips. “No.” He states and wiggles his eyebrows. “Fine.” You kiss him softly and bite his lip softly while purposely pressing your chest against his, giving him more than he bargained for. The kiss deepens and his hand slips to your thighs resting there and gently squeezing. “I definitely know some guys who’re going to be jealous when they hear about this party.” “Shut up, Enzo.” You say playfully before kissing him again.

Theo

Theodore Nott? Unbelievable? To avoid any snarky comments you decide to diss yourself before he gets the chance. “Welcome to the most boring Christmas party ever.” Theodore simply snorts at your fake enthusiasm. “Pretty sure, I just came from the world’s most boring Christmas party.” You huff. “Wow, I suck even in organising lame parties.” Theo looks around. “Pretty sure this doesn’t qualify as a party.” You narrow your eyes, how does he manage to always have the last word.

“What are you doing here, Nott?” You ask as your frustration with Theo beats the sadness over your party. “If I remember correctly you said my Christmas enthusiasm was as overrated as my academic skills.” Theodore can’t help but roll his eyes. women and their need to remember every stupid thing he says. “Sounds like me, probably was me. But clearly I’m desperate… so, do you take in strays?” Your attitude disappears as you look at him, he was in his way sincerely asking if he could stay.

“Of course. You’re very welcome.” Your voice comes out with a little more doubt than planned, but Theo takes your welcome anyway. You both sit opposite of one another. “You must be really desperate if you came to my party?” You ask softly, no snarkiness in your tone. “You must be really desperate for a guest if you let me in, after all I’ve not been my kindest self around you.” You look at the food on your plate. “I’m really desperate, since obviously no one bothered to show up aside from you. But also I can see the humor in most of the insults you throw at me.” A warm smile appears on the slytherin’s face, feeling understood and a little less bad.

For the most part your evening is filled with humorous insults and snarky comments, but as time passes your rivalry ebbs away. The conversations get more serious and Theo almost exclusively has words of endearment for you. His softness envelopes you and your Christmas joy finds its way to Theodore. After lounging on the couch for a while you pull yourself back up. “Gifts? I’ve got four and they’re all for you.” He growls gutturally. “I don’t like gifts, plus I don’t have one for you.” You frown. “Who doesn’t like gifts? You absolute weirdo.” Theo laughs at your unfiltered opinion of him. He pushes himself to sit straight and watches you pick out the first gift. You don’t see how fragile he looks as he watches your gentleness.

When you go sit next to him and joyfully present him the gift he looks in your eyes. “Come on.” You urge like an impatient child. “Fine, but me first.” You frown and purse your lips. “You said you didn’t have anything.” Out of his pocket a fumbled piece of paper appears. “It’s not something I wanted to share, but it’s Christmas right, so why not.” He nonchalantly pushes it to you, waving the paper impatiently, like he wants to be rid of it. When you take it he looks away avoiding your confused gaze. You ignore his bizarre behavior and gently unfold the paper, revealing a sketch of you: you paying attention during class, probably transfigurations.

Theo’s still looking at anything but you. You shuffle closer to him and cup his cheek, turning his face to meet yours. “You drew this? I love it. Thank you.” “You’re a bit of a distraction during class. Probably why I’ve been picking on you.” A soft laugh rolls over your lips when you hear his confession. “And how do I distract you? As you can see all I do is pay attention like a good student.” You hold the sketch up to him as proof. “You do a lot more than that, (y/n). You get me thinking.” You can’t contain your smile. “I get you thinking? How awful of me.” He hisses at your mockery, but when he closes what little space there was between the two of you, your confidence fades. “You have me thinking about doing this” His lips catch yours, he kisses you with so much passion your whole body goes crazy for him in an instant. When he finally releases you, your head feels hazy. “What’s that all about?” Theo grins, enjoying the obvious effect he has on you. “This is my Christmas spirit, I’m feeling generous.” Is all he says before he pushes you to lay on the couch and continues to kiss you with unrelenting passion.

Mattheo

You hear noise at the door and turn to look at it slowly open. You hold your breath, still holding the plate as Mattheo Riddle walks in. Holding flowers in one hand and a gift bag in the other. He looks at you, but you just stare quietly and then he looks around the room. “Oh, I’m too late. I’m so sorry.”

Mattheo Riddle, Slyhterin bad boy, Slytherin trouble maker, son of the dark lord, most handsome guy in your year - maybe even all of Hogwarts - show up to your lame Christmas party with flowers and apologies. Weird. You had indeed invited him, when you announced that everyone was welcome during potions class but you were pretty sure he was among the people making fun of you.

You snapped out of your thoughts, someone was here, you were in no position to be picky about who it was. “No, you’re not late.” He looks confused at the empty seats. “Then where is everyone?” You look around feeling exposed, but look back up at his questioning face. You bite your lip, trying to think of a lame excuse but finding none. “Uhm, no one showed up, except for you.” You eventually manage to say, eyes getting glassy. Mattheo makes a soft ‘oh’ sound and you quickly try to get rid of the awkward situation.

“There’s plenty of food if you wanna stay. And also four gifts for you, since you know no one showed up.” Mattheo stays silent for a few seconds. “But you don’t have to stay, this probably isn’t your ideal Christmas eve.” The slytherin simply shrugs. “It’s not like I have anything better to do and the food looks divine.” You can’t help but chuckle as the awkwardness ebbs away. “Flowers for the hostess.” He offers you the lovely winter bouquet he had been holding. A blush creeps up to your cheeks as you take them and conjure a vase.

Dining together has you feeling like you’ve known Mattheo your whole life. You’re surprised by so many things he tells you, but most of all by how easy it is to talk to him. After the desert you make your way to the couch near the Christmas tree. With the table between the two of you gone things feel different and you both fall silent. “You were actually the last person I thought would show up and yet here we are. I hope you’ve enjoyed yourself so far. Because I definitely have.”

Mattheo stares at you fondly but doesn’t say anything. “Anyways let’s start with the gifts.” As you stand up to reach for one of the gifts Mattheo pulls you down. You now sit so close that your hips are touching and he’s still holding on to your wrist. “This whole evening has been wonderful. You’re wonderful, (y/n).” It sounds like a love confession and you hold your breath. “And at the risk of ruining this evening, I would like to kiss you. Is that okay with you?” Your heart melts, you can’t believe this and no one at Hogwarts will ever believe this. You nod softly, insecure about what you’re getting yourself into.

His hand holds your cheek and you lean in as his lips reach yours, light as a feather his lips brush yours. Ever so slowly Mattheo deepens the kiss, making you go crazy with desire for more. When you lay your hand on his leg for support he sees it as a signal that you are comfortable with him and snakes an arm behind you to pull you closer. Only when the kiss ends do you realize you’re laying in his arms. “When I said let's start with the gifts I didn’t know one of the gifts was wrapped up with a tie and good looks.” You joke as you undo his already loose tie. He smirks as he watches you all comfortable and confident in his arms.

His free hand reaches for your leg urging you come sit on his lap with your legs on either side of him. He pulls you in for another tender kiss. “I did actually bring a gift for you. So if you really want to unwrap-“ You cut him off by slamming your lips into his with passion and eagerness. He complies and pulls you closer into him until there’s no space left. “And here I thought you were all innocent and cute.” Mattheo says, clearly entertained by your enthusiasm. “I’m, I’m just being a good hostess by making sure my one and only guest is having a good time.” Mattheo’s face lights up with genuine happiness. “No doubt you’re a good hostess, pretty sure you would make a wonderful girlfriend as well.”

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Rest Had Seemed The Sweetest Thing.

Bucky's slowly learning that love isn't a finite resource. aka, Bucky's first Christmas.

pairing - bucky barnes x female reader

warnings - none!! just tooth rottingly sweet fluff <3

word count - 1.7k

author's note - based on these two requests!! i'm also trying a new post format... what do we think?? I promised you i'd get a couple of xmas fics out before the 25th... I lied. apologies!! forgive me. title taken from the poem The Owl by Edward Thomas.

as always, if you enjoyed, please reblog!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics. thanks, angels <3

masterlist. inbox.

He whispers the words, timid and reserved, directly into your ear as if he's worried someone else will hear. It's only the two of you sat on the couch in your shared apartment, but Bucky's nervous.

Your head whips around in shock, trying to play it cool. Failed.

"Are you... are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

You grin, big and blinding, the beams of it radiating into Bucky's bones. It settles into his muscles, eases the tension from his shoulders.

You try not to make a big deal of it, try to keep your excitement under wraps. But you've been waiting for him to say those words for almost six years.

"I want to do Christmas this year."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

He hates the cold.

No, he's traumatised by the cold.

Years spent frozen, genetically modified and locked in a glorified freezer. Every gust of wind, every flake of snow reminds him of the darkest days with no light to be seen. His blood may run hot, but he feels like his heart is yet to thaw. He debates moving to the desert at least ten times a day.

Then he looks at you. How happy you are when winter comes around. The way your face lights up when it snows. And he figures that if it brings you this much joy... maybe he can tolerate it.

He bites back the chill, grits his teeth at the icy breeze, ignores the shudder of the cold all the way down to his bones. He grins and bears it, because you love it. He thinks you don't notice.

You do.

You've known ever since you met him. His demeanour changes when the winter comes around. He gets a little tentative around the autumn time, as if he's preparing himself for the worst. And then the first snow falls, and he's different. Guarded. Careful. Reluctant. He puts a fake smile on his face and pretends, but you're nothing if not completely in tune with everything Bucky Barnes.

You never asked, never pried. Just stood steadily by his side, regardless of the walls he'd placed around himself. Around his heart.

He broke down one night, wrapped up in bed with you. A chill had blown through your old apartments rickety windows and unearthed old memories, ice running into his veins. He was sure his tears were frozen as they dripped down his face.

You understood him better, since that day.

You've tried to suggest moving in subtle and not so subtle ways, but he won't have it. He knows this is your home. He knows you like it here. He knows he can stay, if he works a little harder on himself.

So, he tries. Every single day, he tries. And that's all that matters.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Okay, so... ground rules. Hit me, Buck. We do this on your terms."

He thinks for a moment before turning to face you.

"I want it to be just us. No one else."

"Done."

"And I don't wanna do the whole Christmas dinner thing. Feels like too much all at once."

You fight the urge to burst into tears at how easily he's communicating with you, how effortlessly he's enforcing his boundaries. You've come a long way.

"Done. Agreed, by the way. Fuck Christmas dinner. We'll do our own thing."

He grins at you, leaning in to kiss you slowly, tenderly, leisurely. Like you have all the time in the world.

"I want to get a tree. And lights. We don't have to do all the ornaments and stuff, but lights would be nice."

"I have an artificial tree in the back of the storage closet... is that okay?"

"Perfect. I don't want to stand on all the pine needles, anyway."

Laughing, you shift closer to him, tangling your legs together on the couch.

"And no gifts for me."

"But Buck-"

"Angel. I don't want anything. I have everything I need sat next to me."

You roll your eyes, but you can't wipe the smile off your face.

"This isn't fair, suddenly."

"It's plenty fair. You stress too much when you buy gifts, and this is going to be a stress free Christmas. Understood?"

He hooks his fingers under your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"Understood," you whisper, swinging your knee over so you're straddling him. "Stress free."

Bucky tilts his head up to kiss you, gentle at first, then firmer when you roll your hips into his. He's a little distracted, admittedly. He got you to promise not to get him anything, but made sure you wouldn't ask the same. His mind runs a mile a minute, trying to wrack his brain on what kind of gift to get for the love of his life, the person that saved him and continues to save him every single day.

He comes up empty, but lets you kiss the thoughts away for a little while.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"My mom taught me this specific way to hang lights on your tree. Look, grab this end and I'll show you."

You're both still in your pyjamas, fire roaring, a jazzy Christmas melody playing from the radio. You decided you wouldn't put up your tree until the day before, to save Bucky from feeling overwhelmed. It's worked, so far - he looks plenty relaxed as he chuckles and rises from the armchair.

"You're tall, so hold this above your head so they don't tangle."

You work diligently, bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you concentrate. Bucky's happy to watch you, fighting the smile off his face every time you sigh in exasperation. Eventually, you step back and admire your masterpiece, satisfied and content.

"It's beautiful, baby," he whispers, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

He presses a kiss into your neck, then another, then another. Your eyes slip closed, and you sink into his embrace, feeling more at peace than you ever thought possible. You spend the evening by the fire, lying on the rug, room illuminated by the lights on the tree.

It's perfect in every way.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Merry Christmas, angel."

"Merry Christmas, Buck."

His hand finds yours under the duvet, pulling you in close. You tangle yourself around him like lights on a tree, all encompassed by his warmth.

"What's the plan for today, Sergeant?"

He presses a kiss into your temple, propping himself up on his elbow so he can see you properly.

"I say we make some breakfast, spend all day on the couch, and then maybe make some dinner? I know we said we wouldn't do a traditional Christmas dinner, but it'd still be nice to take the time to cook something."

"That sounds perfect."

In the kitchen, you make pancakes with copious amounts of maple syrup, strawberries and pieces of banana strewn across your plates.

"My Mom made us pancakes every Christmas morning, you know."

"You've never told me that."

"I know. I kind of refrained from ever talking about anything festive, because I didn't want you to feel guilty."

"For making you miss out for so many years?"

"I haven't missed out, baby. I chose not to do Christmas because I love you. And that love takes precedent over everything else."

Bucky kisses you then, across the kitchen table, full and golden and so full of love you almost fall off your chair. He tastes like blueberry jam and syrup and coffee, and you wish you could bottle it up and stick a little under your tongue when you get homesick.

"What changed?"

"Hmm?"

"Why now? I would have been content to never do Christmas again, if it made you happy."

"Because I realised something, a couple of months ago. We were sat in the park, and you were laughing at that dog chasing the boomerang. The sun was making you glow, like some sort of angel, and I just knew. I can do anything with you by my side. I can't put my future on hold because of my past."

You're fighting back tears as you look at him, so happy and content. You never thought this was possible, when you first met him.

And here you are.

Celebrating Christmas, showing him your childhood traditions, making pancakes like your Mama used to. You're sat at the kitchen table as the snow falls outside and the warmth that Bucky's love brings is keeping the chill at bay.

It doesn't get better than this.

"I got you something," he murmurs almost sheepishly.

"Bucky-"

"Don't yell at me! I know it makes me a hypocrite, I know I said no gifts, I know."

You roll your eyes, but watch his every move as he gets up and leaves the room. You finish your breakfast and put both of your plates in the sink, turning on the tap so they can soak. When you turn around, Bucky has returned.

He's on one knee.

There's a ring between his fingers, glinting in the winter sun. You're both still in your pyjamas, warm and full, not quite having shaken off the heavy embrace of sleep just yet.

It's perfect.

"Maybe it's cliche to propose on Christmas day, but... I want to replace all of my old memories with new ones. Memories like this."

You walk over to him, kneeling down in front of him so your eyes are level.

"You've taught me what love is, baby. And I can never repay you for that. But I can certainly try. Every day, I can try."

There are tears dripping down both of your cheeks, Bucky's grin matching yours. The two of you are overwhelmed in the best way, unsure of how to process the gravity of what you're feeling.

"Marry me, baby. Let's do this forever."

You lunge forward and smash your lips to his, laughing into his mouth.

"Yes," you breathe when you pull away. "God, yes. A million times yes, Buck."

His arms wrap around your middle as he picks you up, twirling you in circles around the kitchen, both of you shrieking with joy.

Bucky slips the ring onto your finger when he puts you down, both of you tilting your heads to admire it.

"I love you," you murmur, leaning up to press your foreheads together. "The cold can't touch you now, baby. This love will warm us forever."

The cold can't touch him now. Love will warm him forever.

@lizzystuffsthings <3

[skeletonsloverockcandy]

Man, each year I get to it, I love the May 5th entry and what it means. I take something new from it each time. Like last year I noticed the sacrifices and efforts the Driver and the other passengers made to try and save Jonathan, a stranger to them, by showing up early, by giving him gifts, by blessing him, despite the danger that puts them in. Especially when Dracula, as the driver, points it out to the Driver of the first coach, what he was trying to do, and scares him by pointing out what he said (despite it being heard far out of normal earshot and over the sound of horses galloping).

This year though, I notice that, but I see some of the smaller details too. Like how the mountains are full of blooming fruit trees, and how we are so used to the “gothic” aesthetic we almost forget it’s Spring. How Jonathan takes notice and comfort in the view, despite the growing unease he feels because of the people around him. He is trying to distract himself from how scared he’s getting based on their warnings. Warding him from the Evil Eye.

"No, no," he said; "you must not walk here; the dogs are too fierce"; and then he added, with what he evidently meant for grim pleasantry—for he looked round to catch the approving smile of the rest—"and you may have enough of such matters before you go to sleep."

I also take notice of this from the driver, as it’s almost a morbid gallows humor that he clearly knows to expect the wolves, and knowing what happens later, I’m sure the people here have a horrible fear of them, knowing what Dracula can do…and what he does to that poor mother later.

There were dark, rolling clouds overhead, and in the air the heavy, oppressive sense of thunder. It seemed as though the mountain range had separated two atmospheres, and that now we had got into the thunderous one.

We also get here what might be our first indication that the Count can control the weather to an extent.

They were driven by a tall man, with a long brown beard and a great black hat, which seemed to hide his face from us.

All I can imagine is Dracula in a fake beard now lol.

"You are early to-night, my friend." The man stammered in reply:—

"The English Herr was in a hurry," to which the stranger replied:—

"That is why, I suppose, you wished him to go on to Bukovina. You cannot deceive me, my friend; I know too much, and my horses are swift."

But God, this must have been terrifying for the driver and the passengers. What would Dracula do to punish them for trying to escape him? Would he dare make an example in front of the Englishman right now, or would he grant them mercy to say nothing else as Jonathan is unsuspectingly led to his doom, so they think.

"Denn die Todten reiten schnell"— ("For the dead travel fast.")

The strange driver evidently heard the words, for he looked up with a gleaming smile.

It feels like they’re all in on some sick joke that they know the punchline to, but Jonathan doesn’t, so with the dramatic irony, it feels like we the readers are the same peasants, trying to do anything to save or warn Jonathan but it’s already too late.

I also notice how quickly Dracula tries to shift the power dynamic with Jonathan, and have him doubt his sanity so soon, and he’s not even in the castle yet.

He drives him in circles to try and disorient Jonathan and make him feel even more lost, also keeping him out for far later and making Jonathan question if he’s dreaming or if what he’s seeing is real. I’d also bet more than anything that wine he offer Jonathan on the coach that Jonathan didn’t end up taking was drugged. Because it’s far easier to disorient an unconscious passenger in the dark than it is to disorient a conscious passenger. But he still does a pretty darn good job.

Then there’s the blue flames, which Jonathan doesn’t know how to react to as they seem supernatural and he doesn’t know how to rationalize it yet, so he takes it as if he’s dreaming.

This gave me a sort of shock, for I suppose the general superstition about midnight was increased by my recent experiences. I waited with a sick feeling of suspense.

Jonathan also has already felt the fear and nerves associated with the supernatural and superstition after what all of the townsfolk have told him, and later he tries to brush this off and rationalize again, try not to get too scared, but a part of him already realizes something is wrong.

Then a dog began to howl somewhere in a farmhouse far down the road—a long, agonised wailing, as if from fear.

I also want to point this out, as it’s right before the wolves surround the coach, but it’s the second time a “dog” has been mentioned howling in the night, and with this evidence, I bet Dracula uses the wolves as a threat to keep the peasants and townsfolk in line, as he can’t munch down on everyone. But it shows how powerful he is and what a threat he poses. I wonder who the wolves kill in the night.

Also how Jonathan, as an Englishman where there were no more native wolves, can’t even imagine that’s what they were and thinks they are dogs.

And it makes sense now that earlier when Jonathan was getting out his good ol’ polyglot dictionary, how the two words mean the same thing.

"vrolok" and "vlkoslak"—both of which mean the same thing, one being Slovak and the other Servian for something that is either were-wolf or vampire.

As Dracula, as we see later, can transform into a wolf himself, and so there is probably less distinction between the two in this culture than we have tried to establish in the modern day.

Once there appeared a strange optical effect: when he stood between me and the flame he did not obstruct it, for I could see its ghostly flicker all the same.

Ah, I wonder if this is an early indication that Dracula cannot be depicted through traditional means? Like how he can’t be seen in the mirror. Certain lights just, pass through him.

I shouted and beat the side of the calèche, hoping by the noise to scare the wolves from that side, so as to give him a chance of reaching the trap.

We also see Jonathan taking an active and proactive approach, in this manner trying to be helpful and aid his (what he assumes human) driver. With these sorts of actions already, I can see signs of the man who will pick up a shovel to try and do what needs to be done. Who takes a knife and vows action, not hesitating.

He is polite right now, he’s on business. He doesn’t know what’s coming. But regardless, that person is still in him, and he’s capable of taking great action and doing great things for the sake of survival and doing what he thinks is right.

And Dracula commanding the wolves to stop as the driver, and the cloud passing overhead, I feel is like a subtle display of power and threat to Jonathan. He’s still playing pretend, but when Jonathan does figure out he was the coach the whole time, and he plays coy, the Count knows Jonathan will remember this threat, and it feels that much more sinister.

Jonathan still questions and thinks he fell asleep, as he doesn’t see how he’d have missed the approach of the castle otherwise, but I think he was awake because it was dark, and the count was intentionally taking him a winding and confusing path under a lot of fear. Though if he did fall asleep, I’m that much more terrified about how Dracula was driving him about, now secure in the knowledge that Jonathan would be thoroughly isolated and lost.

And the thing that nearly gives Dracula away twice as the driver is the strength of his grip on Jonathan’s hand, also lacing a subtle threat.

through these frowning walls and dark window openings it was not likely that my voice could penetrate.

Well this is just scary knowing how trapped Jonathan becomes later, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hear the outside world, and how the outside world might not be able to hear him, and how he’s already acknowledging that.

The time I waited seemed endless, and I felt doubts and fears crowding upon me. What sort of place had I come to, and among what kind of people? What sort of grim adventure was it on which I had embarked?

He already is expressing doubts and fears, he isn’t ignorant of what situation he might be in, and it’s only later when he tries to rationalize with the count and is given the comforts manipulation of food and sleep, that he tries to dismiss these fears and take the Count at his word.

Was this a customary incident in the life of a solicitor's clerk sent out to explain the purchase of a London estate to a foreigner? Solicitor's clerk! Mina would not like that. Solicitor—for just before leaving London I got word that my examination was successful; and I am now a full-blown solicitor!

Okay, this is just really cute. Mina said You passed the Bar, you Deserve to call yourself a Solicitor Jonathan <3

Also explains a lot that Jonathan is a fresh faced baby lawyer who just passed the bar and needs this assignment. He’s probably hoping that after this pay day he can marry Mina and have enough for them to start making a life together. Also says a lot for Dracula’s strategy to him to get someone young, inexperienced, and unfamiliar with the area, who might be seen as “expendable” so that Jonathan’s sudden “disappearance” might go unremarked by those in charge (though Mina would notice).

I began to rub my eyes and pinch myself to see if I were awake. It all seemed like a horrible nightmare to me, and I expected that I should suddenly awake, and find myself at home, with the dawn struggling in through the windows, as I had now and again felt in the morning after a day of overwork. But my flesh answered the pinching test, and my eyes were not to be deceived. I was indeed awake and among the Carpathians. All I could do now was to be patient, and to wait the coming of the morning.

Again, those early signs of doubt and fear from Jonathan, showing his unease already at the situation. We did not deserve to be clowning on him so much when this book club first started. It’s not his fault he’s not genre aware 😔 I’m sorry Jonathan.

And when Drac does show up to open the door:

"Welcome to my house! Enter freely and of your own will!" He made no motion of stepping to meet me, but stood like a statue, as though his gesture of welcome had fixed him into stone.

I wonder if he’s like that because he needs to be invited into places to be there, so if it’s almost like a supernatural hold of importance for him to offer the same thing. Almost like a subtle joke or curse with the knowledge that after Jonathan enters, he won’t be allowed to leave of his own will

holding out his hand grasped mine with a strength which made me wince, an effect which was not lessened by the fact that it seemed as cold as ice—more like the hand of a dead than a living man.

I also like how all the clues are there, and since Jonathan has written them down and taken note of them, the expression on them must be some of the things he’s piercing together about his own fears as well that he’s afraid to voice aloud or in his journal, because if he voices his suspicions, they might become more real to him.

The strength of the handshake was so much akin to that which I had noticed in the driver, whose face I had not seen, that for a moment I doubted if it were not the same person to whom I was speaking

See? He knows what’s up, he’s just afraid to say it.

I also didn’t pick up that Jonathan’s room is octagonal for some reason. I wonder if there’s any reason for that or symbolism with the 8 sides?

Also the letter from Mr. Hawkin’s feels very ominous in retrospect knowing what’s coming and how Dracula will treat Jonathan:

"I must regret that an attack of gout, from which malady I am a constant sufferer, forbids absolutely any travelling on my part for some time to come; but I am happy to say I can send a sufficient substitute, one in whom I have every possible confidence. He is a young man, full of energy and talent in his own way, and of a very faithful disposition. He is discreet and silent, and has grown into manhood in my service. He shall be ready to attend on you when you will during his stay, and shall take your instructions in all matters."

I feel like Dracula knew to take advantage of that, and also this feels like him basically reading the menu for an ideal victim once his business is said and done, so I get shivers, brrrrr.

Hitherto I had noticed the backs of his hands as they lay on his knees in the firelight, and they had seemed rather white and fine; but seeing them now close to me, I could not but notice that they were rather coarse—broad, with squat fingers. Strange to say, there were hairs in the centre of the palm. The nails were long and fine, and cut to a sharp point. As the Count leaned over me and his hands touched me, I could not repress a shudder. It may have been that his breath was rank, but a horrible feeling of nausea came over me, which, do what I would, I could not conceal.

I also like that while Jonathan is describing Dracula, he notice his hands. And I am also struck with how little it is brought up that he has hair on his palms, and I can see the more wolf-like nature of this vampire mythology. I wonder if Bram Stoker intended for werewolves and vampires to be the same thing in his novel? They are certainly compared and have similar powers and weaknesses, so it’s possible I guess.

Also Dracula has corpse-breath lol. Nasty.

I saw the first dim streak of the coming dawn. There seemed a strange stillness over everything; but as I listened I heard as if from down below in the valley the howling of many wolves.

Ah ha! Also the first foreshadowing we get for the importance of dawn and dusk in the novel, as we know later how important timing becomes for our protagonists, so seeing its affects already make me smile at the recognition of the signs so early.

"Listen to them—the children of the night. What music they make!" Seeing, I suppose, some expression in my face strange to him, he added:—

"Ah, sir, you dwellers in the city cannot enter into the feelings of the hunter."

And ah, an iconic line. Though I just get second hand angry and uncomfortable at Dracula’s insistence that he’s a “hunter” 🤢. God I just hate him haha.

I am all in a sea of wonders. I doubt; I fear; I think strange things, which I dare not confess to my own soul. God keep me, if only for the sake of those dear to me!

And literally Day 1 of being in the castle and Jonathan is already questioning his sanity and piecing things together he’s afraid to even voice in his journal. This is the second time in as many days he has already wished that those around him find this journal and laments should anything bad happen to him. It creates the impression of one who knows they’re walking into danger but must go on anyway.

But I love Jonathan so much, and I definitely really like the May 5th entry, and it does so much work to set up what happens later.

[thefreakandthehair]

@steddiemas day 1: deck the halls | wc: 1.2k | rated: m

Robin Buckley loves Christmas.

Like, really loves Christmas. If she could convince Steve to put the tree up in their little shitbox apartment the day after Halloween, she would. In fact, she'd tried last year but Steve reminded her that a live tree would be a needleless fire hazard by Christmas Day and she refuses to entertain the idea of a fake tree.

Absolutely not. Live tree or bust.

And this is how Steve ends up at the Christmas Tree Farm the day after Thanksgiving, dragged around with a fond if not tired smile as she checks tree after tree, pulling their branches, checking their strength and health.

"It has to be a Blue Spruce to hold those heavy ornaments from my parents, and none of these are Blue Spruces!" She bemoans, whipping her head around to glare at Steve. "Are you even helping?"

He rolls his eyes and sips the hot chocolate that warms him from the inside. "I'm here as moral support and to cut the thing down when you find it." Steve wiggles the little saw he'd been handed and nods her on.

Robin scoffs and marches back towards him. "I think there are some Blue Spruces in the lot towards the back."

Without a question, he turns on his heel and follows her. This isn't their first Christmas Tree Hunt so he knows the drill. No matter how much he actually hates Blue Spruces because the needles are sharp and stick him when they hang the lights, he'll never say a word. Not when it makes his best friend this happy.

Eventually, they make the trek through muddy grass and Robin does, in fact, find a Blue Spruce that makes her eyes light up in the hidden away lot.

"This is it," she beams. "This is the one."

"Perfect, here, hold this--" Steve hands her his mug and starts to lean down, only for the tree to start shaking.

A man in ripped jeans and Reeboks lies beneath the tree, his own saw just beginning to make its mark in the stump of the spiky, healthy Spruce.

"Hey! Hey, what are you doing? This is our tree." Robin says, reaching through branches to hold it steady. "We were just about to cut it down, back off."

Steve sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. It's not that he won't defend Robin's honor and get into a fight in a Christmas Tree Farm for her, he'd just really rather not.

The mystery man pokes his head out from under the tree with furrowed brows and two needles sticking out from the top of his head, dirt on his denim jacket that protects what looks like a red and black flannel. Steve's definitely been watching way too many Hallmark movies with Robin lately because holy shit, he's cute.

"Listen, my best friend wants this tree, and I don't even wanna be under here but if she doesn't get this Blue Whatever-The-Fuck, someone's halls are getting decked and it'll probably be mine. So, sorry." He shrugs and returns to his place under the tree. 

Robin looks at Steve, bewildered and frazzled simultaneously. Do something, she mouths. 

Like what? He mouths back, scrunching his face and contorting his mouth. 

She widens her eyes and jerks her head to the side, desperate. 

He should’ve known Robin would be responsible for his demise. 

“C’mon, man, we’ve been here for two hours looking for a tree.” Steve gets no response, just a few grunts that shouldn’t go straight to his crotch but what can he say? It’s been awhile.

He steps forward and lies down beneath the tree with the Tree Thief. “Is she here with you? Your best friend who seems as fucking rabid as mine is here about these trees?” 

Steve watches as the man focuses on the tree stump, rhythmic back and forth motions of the saw moving his torso along the ground with his tongue poking out between his lips. “Maybe I can talk to her? Or send Robin? She’s… convincing?” 

“Chrissy wants this one, dude. Hate to break it to you.” 

“Ah, okay. Robin and Chrissy. Well, I’m Steve, and you’re…?” 

The sawing stops as he catches his breath. “Eddie. I’m Eddie. And unless you’re gonna help under here, you might wanna move. I don’t wanna drop this on you.” 

Steve pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and takes a chance. Reaching out, he places one hand on top of Eddie’s. “Can I make you a deal?” 

Eddie startles, eyes flickering back and forth from the space where their hands touch on the rough bark of the tree up to Steve’s gaze. 

“Depends on the deal, I suppose.” Maybe Steve imagines the flush to his cheeks and the playful grin that blossoms across his lips. All he knows about Eddie is that his best friend’s name is Chrissy and that he has the most beautiful brown eyes Steve’s maybe ever seen. 

Not maybe. Definitely. 

“Uh,” he shakes his head, trying to pull himself out of whatever Christmas romcom he thinks he’s living in. “What if we help you and Chrissy find another tree and I help you cut it down? I’ll even carry it to the car for you.” 

“What are you, some sort of lumberjack?”

“Nope,” he lowers his voice conspiratorially, joking as he leans closer, like an idiot. “Just desperate not to get my halls decked.” It earns him a genuine smile and surprised laugh punched from Eddie’s lungs. 

“Alright,” he taps the saw on the trunk and smirks over at Steve, mere inches apart beneath a Christmas tree. Close enough for the faint scent of Eddie’s cigarettes and Old Spice cologne to permeate the strength of the resinous spruce. “You help us find another tree, lug it to the car, and then meet me for coffee after? Seems like the least you can do, all things considered.” 

Trading numbers with the guy he met while bargaining for Robin’s dream Christmas tree isn’t the weirdest moment of his life, but it’s certainly on the shortlist. As is plucking rogue needles out of his hair when they come up from beneath the tree.

He ends up lugging two Blue Spruces to the parking lot an hour later in two trips— Robin chatting with Chrissy in front of them and Eddie at his side, gravitating closer and closer until their arms nearly touch. 

“You know, you didn’t actually have to do this,” Eddie says, moving away from Steve and to the other side of Chrissy's sedan to help tie the tree to the roof. “You’re not like, actually obligated or whatever.” 

Steve finishes tying his end of the knot and looks across at Eddie, finding him standing with hopeful eyes and a piece of hair drawn in front of his face. 

“Oh, I know.” He smiles and shrugs. “But I want to. Especially the coffee-with-you-after part.” 

“Not until we get this thing up and decked, Munson!” Chrissy pops up next to Eddie at the same time Robin appears next to Steve, both of them practically bouncing on their heels and grinning ear to ear. 

Robin nudges Steve in the side and he looks down to see her phone held out, Chrissy’s number typed into her contacts with a tiny pink heart to it. He gives her a subtle, excited thumbs up from below Eddie and Chrissy’s view beneath the car. 

Eddie slings an arm across Chrissy’s shoulders and ruffles her hair before she fixes her ponytail, indignant. 

“Alright, alright,” Steve laughs. “I’ll uh, I’ll text you?” 

Eddie nods and turns himself and Chrissy towards the front of the car. As he gets in the passenger seat, he looks back at Steve with a mischievous wink most likely emboldened by Steve’s brash flirtation. 

“The sooner, the better.”

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Scoot over

frat boys x reader x Ruhn Danaan

a/n first time writing for cc don’t come at my neck.

summary: you had a long and shit day and come home to your friends ready to take care of you. One in particular.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You parked your car by the house entrance. Noting the two cars already parked there. Light was streaming through the downstairs windows. A sense of ease instantly washed over you. The day had been long, and you would be lying if you tried to deny that you hadn’t been looking forward to seeing your stupid roommates. Yet you stalled for a moment. Giving yourself an extra minute for composure, you breathed out a deep sigh before stepping into the cold night.

The bickering caught you by the entrance. And even if you couldn’t see it, you could tell that it had to be serious. The view you were greeted with was far from what you imagined, however. Here they stood. Declan was nose-deep in his phone, ordering Flynn around as the male tried to stir whatever that was sizzling in the pan. Even if this felt more like an unsupervised toddler discovering cooking.

“What are you two doing?”, you asked, crossing your arms over your chest. A string of curses rang through the room. The two must have been seriously invested if they didn’t hear you come in. “Urd spare me," Dec sighed, placing a hand on his chest. “Fucking hell, I could have burned myself, woman," Flynn grunted, reaching for the spoon that had found its resting place in the sink. "Sorry, sorry, I thought you were solving world hunger, with all that noise and not trying to tame a house fire," you said, finding it endearing that the two even tried to make food when it had been your responsibility for a hot minute.

“You look like shit," Flynn pointed out bluntly, and Dec was quick to wack him on the back of his head. "Geez, thanks; you do know how to flatter a lady," you sighed, lifting your bags onto the kitchen island. “He’s been single for ten years; don’t expect him to still know what a lady is," Dec chirped, rounding the table to walk closer to you. “Fuck off, you have been single for way longer, dude," Flynn grumbled back, making you let out a slight chuckle.

But it was Declan’s amber eyes that pierced through you now. “No, seriously, what’s up?” A guy might be head first in his technology, but nothing ever slipped past him when it came to his friends. But it didn’t hurt to try, right? So you plastered on the best fake smile you could. “Nothing, nothing; you need help with that?” You pointed to the stove. Earning a loud no from Flynn. “First of all, rude. We can handle a pan. Second of all, you do know that we see through your bullshit?” You simply nodded, biting the inside of your cheek. Dec had become somewhat of a brother to you over the years together. There had always been something special about him. Something that screamed home.

“Do we need to call Ruhn?”, he asked softly, already reaching for his phone, but you stopped him with a shake of your head, “Will you vouch for our balls because I don’t want them on a Christmas tree?” His words managed to get a slight chuckle out of you, but you knew that it didn’t reach your eyes.

“Leave your shit here," Dec said, yanking the bags with food over the table. “Yeah, go upstairs and take a bath or something," Flynn chirped in. You knew that even with his back turned to you, he could sense the shift in you. “A support hug before you go?” Dec extended his arms out to you, and you instantly felt the same burning sensation rising. So you shook your head no, quickly wiping a couple of the tears away as you muttered, “I might start sobbing if you get close.”

Ruhn had been in a piss-poor mood all day. There wasn’t a single thing that hadn’t made him annoyed. His father, of course, graced him with a cherry on top as he sent Ruhn to the other side of the town to finish some of his dirty work. Yet all he wanted now was to smoke himself into the oblivious. Lay down, and not move for days. A sharp pain shot through his eyes as the sound of his phone ringing filled his car.

“What?”, he grumbled the moment he picked up. He was hoping the two hadn’t gotten into any trouble because he would probably leave them to their own devices just because he was in a piss-poor mood. “Y/n got home," Flynn’s voice was barely audible through the sizzling. "Great!", Ruhn grunted, but he already knew it. Had seen the notification of your car passing through the gates. “And she’s not feeling well." That was enough to make all the racing thoughts halt for a moment. “What do you mean?”, Ruhn asked, already starting his car. That last meeting could get fucked, for all he cared.

There was some grumbling on the other line until a much-smothered voice filled Rhun’s ears. “I think something really upsets her, or she’s just in one of her sad moods," Dec muttered, “She nearly cried, and she doesn’t cry." That same tightness clenched Rhun’s chest. Why today, when he was by the outskirts? When he couldn’t get to you fast enough. “I’ll be back as soon as I can," he tried to say, sounding unfazed. As if this only concerned him because you were roommates. But if he had managed to slip past Flynn’s radar, Dec had been on him for years. "Dec," Ruhn called out right before hanging up. "Yeah," his friend muttered. “You look out for her till I get back," Ruhn’s voice was barely a whisper, as if, by saying it any louder, he would chase it away. As if someone would wish bad will on it. “You got it, prince," Even if he couldn’t see it, Ruhn was convinced that Dec had the stupidest grin on his face. “Fuck you," he added before hanging up.

You didn’t bother to go downstairs. The bed was practically calling to you. Dec and Flynn found you between the sheets. And to your luck, neither one commented on the fact that it was Ruhn’s bed that you were lying in and not your own. After forcefully feeding you their noodle concoction, that wasn’t half as bad for the first attempt. The two had taken a guard dog position on either side of Ruhn’s bed. Talking about the most random stuff and, even without your noticing, chasing away all the bad thoughts one by one.

“So then I told him to fuck himself sideways," Flynn was on his fourth story for the night. Debriefing the last meeting he had. “I bet he loved that," Dec snorted, his hand absentmindedly moving up and down your ankle. “The old fuck just went on a rant about how that would be impossible to perform," Flynn huffed with a laugh.

And then, as if on cue, the energy in the room shifted. Growing heavy before it faded away. The sound of the rushed footsteps was hard to miss. You had barely managed to turn your head towards the it when the door to the bedroom swung open. “Out you two," the voice filled your senses even before Ruhn’s frame came into view. The two males snorted. "Okay, daddy issues; don’t yell," Flynn muttered, earning a middle finger in return. Dec gave your leg a couple of taps. “You finish that," he said, pointing to the bowl that still had some pasta left. “Will do," you muttered, giving him a slight smile.

As soon as the door was closed, Ruhn’s eyes met yours. "Hey," he breathed; he was breathing way heavier than usual. So he had either ran or been worrying ever since the two snitches told him about you. "Hi," you muttered in return. Watching him quickly undo his shirt before he yanked it over his head.

“Oh wow," you said, “you’re undressing quickly today." Ruhn let out a snort as he reached for his belt. His hands didn’t even tremble as he undressed. “You never complained about my speed before," he shrugged with a smirk. Reaching for his discarded clothes before throwing them across the room.

“Scoot over," he said, gently nudging your shoulder. “Get in from the other side," you grumbled. You had already warmed his side of the bed. “Scoot your cute ass over," he said, more like an order, and you knew him too well to not obey. It didn’t matter where or in what shape you two were. He was always sleeping on the side closer to the door. Even in his drunken or high state, if you two ended up in the same bed, this thing of his never faltered.

“My shirt?”, he chuckled as he moved closer to you. The territorial male inside him was clapping hands from joy at the sight of it. The warmth of him already making your body shiver in anticipation. His scent wrapped you in a cloud of happiness, followed by his strong arms that snaked around your middle. Fingers reaching just slightly beneath the material to meet your naked skin.

“I just wanted to feel you; it’s stupid," you breathed out as he nuzzled closer to you. Leaving a tender kiss on your shoulder blade here and there. “You should have called me," Ruhn said firmly. “You’ve been busy," you said quietly, turning just a bit so you could see his purple eyes. “Never too busy for you," he said. He didn’t miss a beat with his words, and you knew that they came straight from the depths of his heart. If there was one thing that he was great at, it was looking over the people he cared for.

“Do you want to talk about it?”, he asked after a moment of silence. "No," you said. “But do I need to kill somebody because...", Ruhn pushed slightly. “I'm sure those two downstairs are waiting for that too, so get in line," you breathed, reaching out to brush your fingers over his tattoo. Let your brain get lost in him. The warmth of him. The beat of his heart. The breathing. You didn’t even feel the tears running down your cheeks, just the way Ruhn’s arms tightened around your middle, bringing you even closer to him.

“It’s okay, let it out," he muttered against your ear. “I’ve got you gorgeous," his lips brushed against the side of your face. “It’s just a bad day," you hiccuped silently. “We all have those, baby," he said tenderly, his fingers moving to brush through your hair, massaging your scalp softly. Slowly dragging you into the tired, slumbery space. Your hold on him had loosened before you flinched slightly, wrapping your arms around him once more. “Will you stay with me?”, you turned back at him once more, your heavy eyelids drooping. A warm smile spread on Ruhn’s face, “I won’t move an inch, baby”, he muttered, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead.

[smooth-perceval]

“Do you like the tree?”

Charles leclerc x reader

Summary: the reader decorates the house, Charles wasn’t expecting it but appreciates why the reader decorated without him.

Warning: Fluff, Google translate, no proofread!!!

Key: Y/N (your name) Y/L/N (your last name)

Word count: 607

A/N: sorry it’s it’s late by like 10 mins- my hands hurt from wrapping- hope you enjoy, sorry it’s short!

“Last Christmas I gave you my heart-” gasping I reached into the bag grabbing the red bauble that I had custom made for Charles back when we got together, it had an outline of the Ferrari and his name in gold letters.

I thought it was very sweet, Charles was very proud of it putting it straight on the tree whilst opening the rest of our gifts.

Humming happily to the music, I attached the bauble right at the front where Charles would place it. Quickly glancing up at the clock, expecting him any time soon.

“This year to save me from tears I’ll give it to someone special-”

—

After another half an hour I officially declared myself done with decorating, the windows were smothered with fake snow, every surface of the house had a Christmas light or decoration, the bedding was changed into our Gonk set we brought last year, any small cushions were changed into their Christmas covers. And me myself? I was caked in fake snow, little foam balls, glitter- tinsel you name it! It was guaranteed stuck to me.

“Bébé, qu'as-tu fait?!” (Baby, what have you done?!)

Spinning on my heels, there was my Charles bags in hand clearly had been Christmas shopping once again- and the smell of pizza engulfing my senses, I smiled happily- this man’s way to my heart is definitely with food.

“I decorated!”

“But we normally do that together?” Frowning a little he stepped more into the room, looking around.

“I know… I’m sorry- just you have a lot on your plate over Christmas I just thought I’ll make your life a little simpler- besides I quite enjoyed myself!” Smiling apologetically I bounce over to him helping him with all the items in his hands.

“I can see- you basically have the tree stuck to you-” laughing a little he looked down at me, giving me one of the bags, before I took another few- his eyes still wandering the room.

“It looks beautiful mon chéri.” (My darling)

Placing a kiss to the top of my head, he placed the pizza down on the coffee table looking up at the tree.

“Do you like the tree?” Fiddling with my fingers, the tree was the only approval I wanted from him the rest can go stuff.

“There’s no star this year?” Confused he looked over at me, reaching his hand out and pulling me in close.

“That’s the only job for you…” smiling goofily, my arms looped around his neck pulling him down slightly.

“What a chore-”

“As if!” Laughing a little, I bounced up onto the tips of my toes placing a peck to his lips. “Let’s eat first though- I am famished.”

“I know- your stomach rumbled about 2 minutes ago” laughing also, he pulled us both down onto the sofa. “Thank you, mon chéri” (my darling).

“What for?” Brows furrowed I leant forward picking up a slice of pizza.

“Making my life easier” gesturing at the decorations he also picked up a slice of pizza. “Thank you as well.” His brows now furrowed in response. “What for?”

“The pizza.” Smiling teasingly I tapped my pizza against his before taking a bite.

“Feeding your heart is always a pleasure.” Rolling his eyes, he had that stupid smile on his face that makes me want to kiss him all over.

“I love Christmas.” Nodding my head in agreement to him, I then sighed happily, falling back into his arms, both watching the tree twinkle in the dimly lit room.

I really do love my life with Charles in it.

Christmas time just makes our love extra special…

[pickingupmymercedes]

Under an Ipê tree - Lewis Hamilton

The three times your annual visit to Senna’s tomb brought something different

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Senna! Reader

warnings: mentions of death, mourning, AD 21', Lewis at Ferrari (rubbing salt into every open wound apparently)

wordcount: +1k

a/n: Not gonna lie, started this one with something in mind and it took a life of its own. I know Senna! Reader isn't everyone's cup of tea, so please, proceed with caution, because there is mention to real events and real emotions envolved with mourning. Also, AD 21', I'm sure as hell not over that, so here's another trigger warning.

a/n. 2: Those trees are how pink Ipês look in blossom, I know Brasil is not known for its colder months but those beauties come alive after the few cold weeks.

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Like most traditions it started without any intent on actually becoming a thing. You and Lewis would take a couple hours off on Wednesdays before the Brazilian GP every year, the destination a known one to everyone in the paddock. It was a journey you used to do by yourself until Lewis had been the brave, and first one, to ask you if he could tag along. He’d been to Senna’s tomb before, you knew that much, but the respect and adoration he held for your late father had you deciding he should be good company.

_______________________________________

“I swear I had never seen my mom angrier. Can you imagine her with the speaker at Interlagos shouting to everyone with an ear that I shouldn’t be racing and if anything happened Ayrton was to blame cause I wasn’t even old enough to be there” You told a laughing Lewis while remembering when your father faked an ID so he could sneak you to the track and teach you how to race in your brand new - Mclaren themed – kart. A Christmas gift he went out of his way to get to the famous Brazilian track circuit in time to open day.

“You know, my favorites snippets of his life are the ones you talk about, Sundays at the pool, ice cream dates, kart running without your mom knowing. Whenever someone talks about him it’s always about his wins, his hardships, his cars and battles … it’s almost as if he didn’t exist beyond formula 1, like we froze just a fraction of him and forgot all about the rest.” 

You smiled at him, you liked how Lewis never questioned your feelings towards f1’s out of this world idolatry on your father, mainly because at the end of the day, to your 8 year old past self, Ayrton was first and foremost “pai”, the dude that thought you not to be afraid by throwing you into the ocean when no one was looking, the one that cooked instant noodles for dinner in spite of your mom’s pleads, the one that constantly tried to show you that love is a feeling we should act upon in the present and never wait for a so promised tomorrow.

“He would’ve liked you I think… would’ve hated to race you, for sure. But as a person, he would have probably seen you as one of the good ones, pointing out bullshit, fighting fia every chance you get, protecting the guys back at the garage, focusing on racing and not talking, looking out for everyone.” You answered truthly, as he respectfully held his hands behind his back looking at the tomb stone, while you casually sat in the edge of the stone, almost too comfortable around the place from all the visits you’ve done over the years.

“I think you should meet Galisteu someday, she’ll have way more interesting stories about him to tell you than I do.” You absentmindedly noted, remembering all she’s told you about your father, this other side to him you never got the time to see.

“Nah… we’re our truest around kids, his best version was the one you got to see. Now, what was that time he sneaked a stray dog onto your apartment?” he asked while reaching for your shoulder so you both could walk along the path back to the car awaiting to take you both back.

_______________________________________

“I don’t think I really remember the sound of his voice” you sighed looking up at the Ipê tree just beside the tomb. You had shown Lewis a photo of what it looked like once in full blossom before, in the Brazilian winter, and he promised you he would eventually find the time to come see it in its full glory in late June.

The walk in the cemetery, the light hearted banter, him opening his heart on dreams and the future and the confessions you would eventually make to Lewis about Ayrton were part of the annual occurrence you had both unspokenly agreed on, but that one line seemed to have hit him hard enough he just motioned you to go on, no answers or remarks. 

“I mean, I know what his voice sounds like because there’s a thousand and one interviews with him, but I don’t think I can truly remember what he sounded like in real life … how he talked to me.” You explained it further, now looking at the Briton.

He engulfed you in a hug, the kind only he knew how, your tears leaving marks on his shoulders. You would rarely cry over anything related to your father, at least not in front of people anyway, but Lewis was… well, Lewis. You and Niki were the one who pushed, like hell, to sign him to Mercedes back in 2014 against everyone’s better judgment, and while you knew he would be every bit the driver and phenomenon he was, neither of you anticipated the friendship that came out of seeing him almost every GP you attended. A relationship that had crept its own way into your hearts, slowly allowing to see each other as something more than just good friends.

“He’s proud of you, wherever he is. I know that much” He whispered, leaving a soft kiss to your temple and bringing you even closer to his body.

_______________________________________

“He would’ve crashed into Verstappen back in 2021, wouldn’t he?” He prompted out of nowhere, gazing seriously at the tomb as you observed him pondering over the possible outcomes of a race that, like a ghost, had been following him nonstop, specially with the São Paulo GP fast approaching and with it his chances of securing his 8th title, two races before the end of the season.

“Start another Senna vs. Prost ?! ” You thought out loud, trying to read into his expressions and mannerisms, a talent of his you weren’t quite as good.

“Maybe I should’ve done it”

“You’re not like that Lew. You’re you and no one, not a single person, wants someone else” Your exasperation clear in your voice, hands reaching for his chin as his eyes locked into yours and he nodded, an unspoken agreement between the two of you, one you had to hammer into his head from time to time, that he may have Ayrton as his idol but he was just as much of an icon to the sport, and to a million of kids out there.

“On Sunday you’re going to reach that top step in your red suit, fulfill Ayrton’s dream and claim a championship for Ferrari. You. Not him, nor anyone else” and come the end of the race, he did just that. Smiling down at the sea of people in a mix of old Mercedes merchs and new Ferrari ones, dedicating his trophy to all the other people who believed in the impossible with him. 

[thewritergx]

Nympho Sam Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: Sam, Dean, and y/n go on a witch hunt. Things take a wrong turn when Sam unknowingly becomes cursed.

Warnings: Guns, Knives, Blood, Sex Pollen, Rough Smut (no mercy, squirting, choking), Dom!Sam but still needy.

Word Count: 5K

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Please feel free to like and repost. Click here if you’d like more stories from me

I had been hunting with Sam and Dean for about a year now. I met them on a ghost hunt in Texas, where we both showed up to the same house. I was thankful they showed up when they did, saving me from getting blown in the head by a spirit. After the hunt, we kind of just clicked and they decided to take me in. Sam said something about not “letting you leave to die alone on some stupid hunt”. Dean agreed. Honestly, they needed the touch of a woman in the bunker, lighten up the mood some. Sam and I often did research together, finding new monsters and ways to kill them. While Dean and I mostly drank beers and played first person shooter games. Call of duty was our favorite. I was thankful they gave me a permanent place to stay. For The first time in my life I had my own room and the closest thing to family. Bobby quickly became like an uncle to me, helping anytime I needed him. 

After a few hours of driving, we made it to a quiet town outside Charleston. Over the past few weeks there have been a number of strange deaths. A man choking on tens of razor blades, supposedly in candy. A woman drowned while bobbing for apples. It was clear a case was here. Sam and I had hit the books hard, studying a few different monsters that fit the case profile. When we got to the town, a short interview with the man’s wife resulted in many answers. While Sam and I spoke with the widow, Dean without any struggles, was able to find a hex bag behind the fridge and air vent. Clearly, we were dealing with a brave witch. One with a good amount of power. After a few hours of different interviews and flash in our fake FBI badges, Sam was able to locate a house where we presumed the witch dwelled. The perfect hiding place for her curses and magic. It was a lone house in the middle of a field, abandoned for years.

I sat in the back of the Impala as Dean drove behind the house, concealing the car behind a row of thick oak trees. The yard was overgrown, tall dead grass covered the back steps of the house. A fog had rolled in and the wind was blowing like a tornado. The steps to the house were made of cracked cement, gravel-covered and brittle. Inside, the walls were painted a cool brown, but many patches of the paint had piled away, revealing the bare walls underneath. The color, once lively, had turned to a dust dull shell of itself. Huge windows revealed the moonlight. Their wooden panes were broken. Glass was completely missing out of a few while others looked like rocks had been thrown into them, allowing the wind to hiss through. 

The air was thick and musty, dust seen flying with the naked eye. As we stepped, the floorboards creaked, a hiss echoing throughout the house's empty frame. Broken glass and trash littered the floor. We walked through the living room, Sam close behind me with his gun drawn. Symbols of red, maybe blood, were painted along the entrances of door frames. Some I recognized to keep out demons and angels. Dean made his way through a short dark hallway, lit only by the flashlight he carried.  

“Guys, over here”, Dean called out. Toward the end of the hallway was a locked door, which stood out from the lack of dust on the handle bars. 

“Someone has definitely been in here”, Sam whispered. Amongst the rest of the house, the door looked brand new. Dean swiftly kicked the door open, revealing a steep set of stairs descending to the ground. Sam went first, his tall frame obstructing my view below. I went next while Dean traveled close behind. The wooden steps creaked with every movement we made, reverberating all around us. I gripped the handrail, feeling the old rotted wood slightly crack under my grip. We finally reached the bottom of the steps, revealing a big dark room with cluttered boxes and left behind furniture. I searched for a light switch. It was freezing, and I could barely see the walls throughout the darkness. The ceilings were short, Sam almost having to bend over in an attempt to not hit his head. 

“Alright, watch your step”, Sam whispered. Dean and I nodded our heads, trying to step through the piles of old boxes. 

After searching the walls and ceiling, I found a string hanging in the center of the room. I pulled it and a dimly lit light shined. It wasn't bright but it was enough to add light to the space. With more light, we were about to see a corner of the room previously hidden. This corner was different from the rest of the space, less dust and no clutter. Sam approached the corner, finding a broken-down table filled with various items for a spell. It was dark oak, covered with a thick black cloth. It seemed to be a makeshift space for spells and curses, animal bones dangling from the filling above. In the center of the table a bronze bowl sat. A single human heart inside. Blood riddled the table, red drops aligning the bowl. A slightly opened box set next to the bow, filled with stones and various herps. It looked like a mixture of dried roses, egg shells, and a thick white paste I couldn't recognize. There were numerous candles, the wax was still dripping down. Whatever was here was still close by.

“What the hell?” Sam sounded perplexed, trying to figure out what spell the ingredients might be for. He knew he had seen this before but couldn't recall its purpose. Dean and I stood behind him, observing the scene. Each of us gripped our guns, witch killing bullets inside.

As we stood with our backs turned to the rest of the space, the light began to flicker and candles laid out on the table lit themselves. The air grew even colder and a loud scream like cry was let out. The three of us turned around quickly. Shadows advanced across the room as a woman dressed in a long worn-out cloak appeared. Her hair was long and matted. Silently, she brought up her hand, revealing long black nails and unleashing a force that knocked Sam over, onto the table. Sam let out a painful grunt as he crashed into the table. The bowl of blood and the heart spilled over him, and he quickly threw it off him. He laid for a second, turning his back and wincing. Sam let out a gag as he tried to wipe the blood away, remnants stuck to his shirt and hands. 

The witch began to chant something in Latin. A few words I made out were “desiderium, opus, flamma”. Her voice rang out and Dean began to get impatient. Dean shot several rounds, but she’s able to deflect them. She threw the gun from Dean’s hand, sending it flying across the room and landing hard on the floor. With her magic, she lifted Dean and I into the air, choking us as our feet left the ground. Sam was quick to stand, shooting back at her as he pulled himself off the table. It was a good distraction as a couple of bullets flew past her. She vanished, dropping Dean and I onto the floor. I sat, gripping at my neck as I tired to catch my breath fucking witches. She appeared again, grabbing Sam in a chokehold as she gripped tightly across his back. Dean quickly reached behind him, pulling out another good from the holster attached to his belt. The witch was smart, not giving Dean a good angle to shoot her that wouldn't hurt Sam too. In my pocket I pulled out a small hex bag Bobby packed for us. Back to the basics I guess.  I searched the room for a bowl, eyeing the one Sam threw off him a couple feet away. With the witch focused on Sam and Dean, I was able to run and grab it, blood sticky on the outside. The witch began whispering in Sam's ear. He trashed, trying to get her off him. He was able to knock her loose a bit. Dean took his chance to run at her, using the butt of his gun and slamming it against her head. She let out a groan and knocked Dean to the floor. I pulled out a match from my shirt pocket, striking it quickly as I threw the hex back into the bowl. I threw the match into the mixture and chanted the incantation Bobby taught us, “Furor divine virtute in infernum eam detrude” and threw the ingredients on to her. A thick cloud of black smoke engulfed her and blood began to pour from her eyes and mouth. She screamed and flames came from the ground, leaving ash as she quickly vanished to nothing. 

“Glad I practiced that,” I laughed. Sam grabbed Dean off the ground. Dean patted dust and a few spider webs off his pants.

“Dude, you reek”. Dean laughed as he looked Sam up and down, blood covering his shirt, hands, and a bit of his neck. 

“Take me home.” Same frowned, unbuttoning his flannel shirt and throwing it on the ground. 

I took a few pictures of the ingredients used on the table and the heart Sam threw by a mess of boxes and old junk. “For our research,” I explained as the boys asked what I was up to. “Never seen that before,” I mumbled mostly to myself. 

The boys and I made our way out of the darkness of the house, a creepy vibing causing me goosebumps. When we got back to the Impala, Sam quickly unbuttoned his flannel, throwing it in the truck of the Impala. He dug through our duffle bag of supplies, pulling out multiple bottles of water. He poured them onto his chest, trying to wash away as much blood as possible Without any access to soap or a shower. I tried not to stare but it was honestly a great sight to see. 

“Sammy, come on. Ain't staying out here all day”. Dean called as he got into the driver seat, Baby purring out as he turned the key. 

Sam let out a disgusted moan and climbed into the back seat. 

“No one is hurt, right?” I questioned, looking back at Sam and over at Dean. I sat in the shotgun seat, inspecting my body for any cuts. 

“I'm good, just stinky” Sam huffed out. 

“Stinky is an understatement”, Dean shot out. Luckily our hotel wasn’t too far away. Only about 25 minutes out. 

Dean turned up the radio, blasting Metalica. 

“What the hell was that witch saying anyway?” Sam asked. “I didn't recognize those sets of ingredients at all.”

Dean drove with one hand, tapping the steering wheel to the music. “Whatever it is, she's dead now. I say good riddance bitch” he smirked. 

Sam nodded his head, his eyes suddenly heavy. After a few minutes, he was slumped over in the back seat heavily breathing and lightly snoring.

I shot an eyebrow at Dean “he’s tired,” I laughed.

We drove for a few more minutes, finally arriving back at the cheap motel we all shared a room in. I was exhausted. I swear Dean almost passed out on the road a few times himself. Although our fight wasn't much, the day as a whole was long and drowned out. I Knew I wouldn't get much rest tonight, my adrenaline too high to let my body relax. Sam was still knocked out, his body heavy and worn. 

“Sammy, Sammy…” I lightly pushed against him, shaking his body awake. 

Sam opened his eyes, blinking a few times. He rubbed his eyes with his palm, adjusting to the lights of the Impala shining above. 

“We’re here already? Guess I feel asleep”. He mumbled. His voice was always so thick when he woke up. I tried to ignore it and focused on grabbing our stuff out of the car.

Dean parked the car just outside the room. Could never sleep too far from his precious Baby. Sam dragged his body out of the impala. He was a sweaty mess, dragging his finger through his long brown hair. He stumbled as he got out of the car, missing his first step.

“Wow, you okay?” I asked as I grabbed him by the shoulders.

Dean shrugged his shoulders walking closely behind us. 

“I just feel really really hot. I’m nauseous as hell.” Sam took another step forward. I could feel his body shaking. His breathing was unsteady and fast.

“Maybe you got car sick, let's get inside and I'll see what we have”. I held my grip tight on Sam, scared he was going to fall over. 

I supported as much of Sam’s weight as I could as I walked him up the few steps to the door, his big hand gripping tight around my waist. 

“Dude, what happened to you?” Dean asked, opening the door and throwing our bags down on the floor. 

“I don't know, I'm just so hot. Like my skin is crawling on fire. I need a fan” Sam's face was balled up uncomfortably. He kicked his shoes off, throwing them in the corner of the room. I led him to one of the beds, trying to set his heavy body down as softly as possible. 

“Here, just sit. I'm gonna get you something. Try to relax”. I hurried to the kitchen area grabbing some aspirin I sat on the counter earlier and a cold water bottle out of the fridge. 

Sam groaned as he laid face down in the fetal position, waiting for me to get with the medicine. 

“Here take this,” I leaned down, gently placing the pills in his hands and undoing the cap of the water bottle. 

“God, Sam. Your forehead is hot as hell. You need a shower,” I smiled slightly but I tried my best to take the situation seriously. It was clear he was in a lot of pain.

“Okay, okay. I'm gonna go.” Sam dragged his big frame up painfully, his hands close to his lower stomach. “I’m gonna throw up,” he mumbled as he rushed to the bathroom. 

“What the hell is going on with him?” I asked Dean, who had already made his way to the fridge pulling out a beer and a cold pizza. 

“I don't know. I mean he was fine before left that house…” Dean thought for a moment. “The witch. I saw her whispering something to him. You don't think, maybe it's still affecting him?” He had a bit of concern in his face now.

As we spoke, I heard Sam’s groans coming from the bathroom and water starting from the shower. 

“Let me see those pictures you took,” Dean rushed over. He grabbed my phone, scrolling through the pictures. 

“I don't recognize this at all. Seems like a pretty unique spell.” I whispered in an attempt to keep Sam from hearing. 

I listened closely as Sam continued letting out painful groans and heavy breathing from the bathroom. 

“Call Bobby, I'm gonna check on him.” I stood, knocking on the bathroom door. 

“Y-yeah, c-come in.” Sam crocked.

I walked in slowly, steam filling the small bathroom. “Sammy, I thought you were hot. Probably want cold water” I stated confused.

“God, my skin is itching. I need like, I don't know. I need…pressure”, Sam blurted out quickly.

“Pressure?” I asked confused.

“Yeah. I-I don't know. Something is seriously wrong with me. Feel like I'm gonna burst into flames but the hot water is helping.” Sam stood in the shower, his arms out, pressed against the wall to balance him. He tilted his head down, the water bouncing off his long hair and onto his body. As he looked down, he noticed another problem. He was hard. Like harder than he’d ever been his whole life. His dick was bright red and the sound of my voice ringing out across the room made it jump with every word I spoke. 

“Y/n, I-I need you to uh, need to to get out,” Sam’s voice was like a whimper. Pain and need thick from his throat. 

“Oh, okay. Just call my name if you need anything.” I tried to sound pleasant even though he just kicked me out when I was trying to help. 

When I walked out the bathroom, Dean was pacing back and forth. “Okay, well. Hold on, y/n is here now.” Dean put the phone on speaker, Bobby’s voice ringing out.

“Okay, y/n tell me everything you remember.” Bobby spoke.

“Well, there was a human heart, a lot of blood. Some herbs that looked like different flowers. Red roses maybe. There were like fifteen candles. I think they were pink. And she whispered something to Sam. Before that she spoke a few words. I think desiderium, opus, and flamma. That was all I could make out. Honestly, not sure what any of them mean.” I tried to recall as much as the events as I possibly could. 

The door to the bathroom gently opened a crack. “Y/n, could you uh, hand me some clothes?” Sam mumbled. He stood in the doorway, water dripping down his tanned skin. 

I quickly dugg in his bag, pulling out a pair of black boxers and a loose t-shirt. I handed it to him as he poked his hand out slightly through the door. “Here you go.” I smiled. My fingers brushed against slightly and Sam let out a whining sound. Not really like he was in pain, more like he needed something. 

I walked back to the phone, listening for more information from Bobby. “I mean, the roses made me think it’s gotta be a love spell. But the heart? That would be so, etching for intense power. I’m gonna do some research, call you back as soon as I find something.” I heard books opening as Bobby hung up the phone. 

Sam walked out of the bathroom, his hair shaggy and wet. He looked like a mess. 

“Sammy, you good?” Dean asked, meeting Sam’s eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah. I feel a bit better.” He lied, laying back down on the bed. 

“Listen, I'm going to find a gas station that's still open. Get you some tea or some shit.” Dean spoke fast. “Call me if anything changes. Won't be gone long.”

Sam nodded his head, too strung out to answer.

I sat on the edge of the bed offering Sam a smile. He forced one out in return but I could tell it wasn't genuine.

“Can you turn on the Tv, need a distraction?” Sam’s head was tilted back, leaning against a pillow and the bed frame. He closed his eyes tight, and pulled the covers over him. 

“Of course,” I replied, grabbing the remote and flipping to the first free channel. A documentary about space played, “Seems relaxing,” I stated. 

Sam nodded, not really paying any attention to what played. “I'll be right back okay, just stay here.” I walked to the bathroom grabbing my back. I changed quickly into a big shirt, a graphic T with a photo of Star Wars, ditching my sweater and bra on the bathroom floor. I pulled my jeans off and underwear off, replacing it with a pair of black Nike shorts. I was so ready to be out of those sweaty clothes. 

Sam stayed still, counting down the seconds I was gone. Every step I took away from him caused a shoot pain to ring out through his body. He was craving me, his dick still has hard ever, even after trying to jerk off in the shower. He brought his hand down to his member, snaking it under his shorts and pumping up and down a bit. It provided a bit of relief but he needed more. Needed you gripping onto him. 

When I walked back into the room, Sam was in the same position. His face was a bit more constricted than before. He looked at me, his eyes half opened. “That's my shirt,” he mumbled.

“Sorry, it was the first thing I grabbed when we left the bunker.” I smiled, climbing back in the bed next to him. “Need anything?” I asked softly.

“Yeah, I think. I um…not sure how to say this but I think I need you” Sam looked into my eyes, pleading.

“Well, I'm right here. Just tell me what you need me to do.” I sat up more, meeting his eyes.

“No. I mean like. God…My head was killing me but the closer you get, the better i’m feeling. It’s like my body is aching for you.” Sam’s face was serious but gentle.

“I don't understand what you mean“. My cheeks turned a bright red.

From across the room, my phone rang out, a high-pitched melody playing. I jumped up, grabbing it from the bar. “It’s Bobby”.

“Y/n? Think I found something…Something weird. Real weird. Bobby's voice rang out as I put him on speaker.

“Well, spit it out, Bobby. What are you waiting for?” I asked impatiently.

“Okay, okay. I think Sam is under a nympho spell.”

“Nympho spell? What the hell is that?”

“Well from what I'm reading, it's a sex spell. Kind of like what a siren uses. Lowers men into a witch's trap so they are more easily seduced.” 

“What? So it's like viagra in a spell? How do we fix it?” I looked over at Sam, his face hit and flushed.

“Well, the lore says men who fought off the spell but die from an intense fever. So as nicely as I can say this, Sam needs a piece of ass.” Bobby sounded a bit grossed out by that. 

“Okay, but the witch is dead? What am I supposed to do, stand on a corner and wait for a lady to offer herself right up?”

“No, no. The spell is focused on one person. You just need to figure out who that is.”

I thought for a moment, taking in Bobby’s words. “That makes sense…Bobby, I gotta go.” I hung up the phone quickly, meeting Sam’s eyes from across the room. He brought a pillow up to his hips, gripping it tight.  

I grabbed the phone again and called Dean.

“Hey, is he good?” Dean spoke.

“Talked to Bobby and um. Well, he basically told me Sam has a sex curse that can only be cured if we…ya know…do it.”

Dean was quiet for a moment before he started laughing. “So y'all gotta, what, just fuck?” He blurted out. 

“Listen, just don't come back to the room. I'll see if this works. And Dean?…I never want to speak about this night ever again.” I whispered.

“Alright alright, just be careful. Don't do anything you don't want to. I'll get the room next door.” 

I hung up, placing the phone back on the counter and walking over to Sam. I swallowed deeply. It's not like I haven't thought about it before, just thought it would happen differently, I guess. 

“Sammy, I think you’re right. Think you might actually really need…me.” I approached him slowly, kind of afraid of what my words might do to him. Sam was gripping the sheets under him, biting his lip so hard I think he might have drawn blood. 

“I think you're under a spell, sammy. One I can help with, if you’ll let me.” I stood at the foot of the bed waiting for his answer. God, okay. Please, Please. Just need to make this go away. Please.” He sounded almost drunk, slurring and groaning at each plea. I can't lie, it was making me go crazy too. 

“Okay, I will. I promise this will work”. I hoped it would anyway.

I swallowed and made myself more confident. I can do this. I will do this. Besides, I couldn't just let him sit here and die like this. I climbed up the bed, sprawling myself on top of Sam. My hips lined up with his. I immediately noticed Sam became relaxed, the grip on the sheets loosen and his eyes finally open. 

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Sam spoke, his voice calm now. His hand immediately reached for my waist, pushing me down on top of him. “I don’t know if I can stop if you let me start. I swear I never felt a need like this before.” Sam's eyes pleaded with me. 

“It’s okay… I just want to make you better. Just do whatever you need. I’ll be fine.” I met Sam’s eyes, smiling a bit. I was nervous and I knew he was right. He wouldn't be able to hold back at all. 

Sam looked me in the eyes before quickly slamming me down on the mattress, hovering over me. “I’m so sorry y/n but this is gonna hurt.” Sam spoke before pinning my arms above my head and crashing his lips against mine. 

He let out a groan at the kiss, bucking his hips into me for any sort of friction he could manage. He tasted like mint and smelled like fresh pine. I tried to keep up with the kiss as he sucked my bottom lip, dancing his tongue around mine. 

I roughly ended the kissing, ripping my shirt shorts off and throwing them across the room. The air sent a cold chill through me. Sam placed a string of kisses down my neck, sucking hard leaving a trail of dark purple bruises after every touch. A part of me loved that they would stay for days. 

Sam quickly pulled his own short off, his cock free. I watched as he grabbed his thick member, pumping it roughly. He had the biggest dick ive ever seen in person. Probably around eight inches and at least an one and a half inches thick. God, would that even fit? I guess it made sense, seeing as how the rest of his body was so big. 

Sam brought my legs up, putting him around his shoulder and lined his cock up with my entrance. I brace myself as he slammed into me without any warm up. No mercy. 

He dragged himself through me, slamming into my cervix so hard I would feel it for days. “Fuck sammy, feel you in my stomach.” I screamed.

“Be a good girl for me, give me that tight pussy.” Sam growled loudly, ripping through me with so much force I was already coming. A thick clear liquid leaked out of me, onto the base of Sam’s cock. 

Sam showed no signs of stopping, no care that I was already a creaming mess under him. He kept his pace fast and rough. “Fucking clench that pussy around me. Such a good little girl.” Sam growled. 

He brought a hand to my neck, gripping it tight. It was the perfect pressure at first, but he gripped down tighter, making all the air escape me. I tried to get him to stop but my words only came out as interrupted whines. He gripped harder, causing my yes to fall a bit. The room spun and I began seeing black. I swear I actually passed out before Sam finally let go, pumping into me harder and harder. 

“Sammy, please. It's too big, too much.” I did my best to get him to slow down. 

“No, it’s not. Be a good girl and take it.” He replied back. 

I felt myself go over the edge again, digging my nails hard into his back. I knew my nails would leave marks. Sam showed no signs of pain, in fact I think he liked it. 

“Tried to warn you, baby. Told you it would hurt.” Sammy mumbled, “Open your mouth little girl.”

I followed his instructions, a bit scared what he would do if I didn't. Sam leaned down, holding my cheeks and spitting roughly in my mouth. It was hot and thick as I swallowed, causing me to gag a bit. 

“Such a good girl. I love you, you know that?” Sam finally slowed his pace for a moment, meeting his eyes with mine. “Fucking love you so much, swear I always have.” He pressed his lips onto mine again. This kiss was different, slow and gentle. 

“Oh fuck, Sammy. I’m gonna cum again. Please. I can’t. I can't” My words were like cries as the head board slammed against the wall of the hotel.  

“Mmh, I know you can baby. Know you have more in you. Don’t give up on me now.” He mocked me, using a bit of a whining voice. 

His cock was driving me crazy. I could hardly keep my legs on his shoulders anymore. 

Another orgasm ripped through me. I started feeling like I was going to pee, a sensation I never felt heavy in the back of my pussy. “Sammy, Plea-”.

Sam cut me off as he quickly pulled his couch out, sending mu juices out like a water hose. “Fuck baby, got you fucking squirting for me already.” Sam bragged. 

I screamed his name, my back arching off the bed as he slammed back into me over and over. Tears filled my eyes as I begged him to cum, wet streaks falling down my face. He whipped them away with his thumb and brought it to my lips. I parted them slightly and began sucking. “That’s it baby. Just relax, let daddy do his job.” Same whispered deep in my ear. The name echoed through my thoughts. Didn’t expect him to like that. 

“Fuck, daddy. Please. I can't cum anymore. Daddy, please cum. Please cum inside me.” my arms fell by my side, no strength to keep them up anymore. 

“Fuck y/n so nasty for me. Want me to fucking cum? Breed this tight little pussy, huh?” He was condensing, slapping his balls against the base of my pussy like a maniac. 

“Please, Daddy. Just want you to cum.” I moaned weakly. 

Sam growled as he sped up his pace, moaning my name over and over again. I felt a warm liquid shoot into me as he began slowing down, dropping his body weight on top of me. 

I moaned and cried as I felt him go soft inside me, only pulling out when rolled over. 

Sam turned to me, placing soft kisses onto my lips and dragging me onto him in a hug.

“Y/N, you okay? I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to hurt you? What do you need?’ Sam rambled as I shook on top of him, a mess of juices. 

“Let me clean you up.” Sam stood walking to the bathroom and running warm water under a rag. He softly spread my legs a bit, whipping up and sign of him. I moaned, closing my legs to try and stop the sensation and pressure on my clit.

 Oh Fuck, I, bruised you. I’m so sorry y/n. Let me see.” Sam spoke as he moved my hair away from my neck, a string of hickey and bruised from his finger bright red.

“I-I’m okay. Just need you here with me” I moaned. 

Sam gently sat back on the bed, caressing my back and letting out quiet “Shh’s”.

“I did mean it. When I said I loved you,” Sam quietly spoke, placing soft kisses on my shoulder. 

“I know. Love ya too, Sammy”.

[plzfeedmebread]

Hold My Hand and Never Let Go

word count: 3360

Pairing: Jake Sully x Female! Omatikaya! Reader Tags/Warnings: adults only, smut, sex, mating, bonding Summary: Older sister of Neytiri, younger to Sylwanin. After Jake successfully becomes one of the people, you take him to visit the Tree of Voices. All the while battling your feelings for him.

Author's note: The scene in Chainsaw Man where Makima and Denji lewdly hold hands inspired me to write this. Was originally gonna be reader and Lo'ak but I wanted to make it lewd, so Jake it is! This is not proof read so apologies for any mistakes! I'll fix em up later~

When Neytiri first brought Jake Sully before the clan, like everyone else you were shocked beyond belief. You offered to cut him down where he stood, had she forgotten the sins of Demons and the Sky People? What they did to Sylwanin?

But by Eywa’s Will he is granted sanctuary amongst the clan. And much to your dismay, your mother, the Tsahik, puts you in charge of training this would be warrior.

Many moon cycles you spend together. It became excruciatingly clear how difficult the path ahead would be. But you persevered, powered by sheer determination and spite; Tsu’tey’s constant dismissal and antagonizing being the driving force.

Though he was future Olo'eyktan, and you future Tsahik, the two of you were not to be a mated pair. It was an unusual situation, but not entirely unheard of. Your parents knew all too well how much the two of you butted heads, always getting on each other’s nerves one way or another.

A compromise then; he would be mated to your younger sister Neytiri. She accepted, noting that he was a great warrior and a promising future leader; Sylwanin always spoke so highly of him.

You put him to the back of your mind, your only focus being Jake and his lessons. Slow at first, especially with the language, he eventually finds his rhythm.

And when he passed his Iknimaya, you were overjoyed beyond words. It filled you with such pride watching him fly his ikran as though he was a natural born Na’vi. Eywa must have truly blessed this man. The two of you giggled like fools as you flew side by side, teasing each other with fake collisions.

Neytiri laughed at your antics, while Tsu’tey merely rolled his eyes, deeming you two a bunch of children.

You couldn’t stop smiling as you painted him in white intricate swirls. And when father declared him one of the people, you smiled brighter than you thought possible. Watching everyone gather around to join hands upon hands, excepting him, you weren’t ashamed of the tears in your eyes. Your gaze briefly met Graces’, the two of you letting out soft laughs noticing each other’s tears.

The day was filled with merriment and celebration. Every artisan of the clan wanted his attention now, showing him their workings, honed by years of trade. Then day bled to evening, filled with feast, song and drink. And when evening bled into night, you stealthily pulled Jake away from the clan, wanting some alone time.

---

Hurriedly you pull him along, your footsteps leaving light trails in the earth. This was your most favourite time, the night, when Eywa was at her most beautiful. Even when the sun eclipsed, She never left her people in the dark; lighting the world in a brilliance of colour.

You giggle when you feel Jake playfully tug on your tail as you arrive at your destination; the Tree of Voices. The grove is awash in soft violet and pink hues, almost romantic in a way.

“This is a place for prayers to be heard, and sometimes answered.” You explain as you grab some of the tree. You connect your kuru and smile softly.

“We call these trees, Utral Aymokriyä, The Tree of Voices. The voices of our ancestors.” You watch as Jake connects to the tree, his pupils dilating for a brief moment.

“I can hear them…” He looks shocked, almost like a babe connecting to Eywa for the first time. You suppose that perhaps that was true in his case.

“When our energy is returned, we live on within Eywa.” He nods and disconnects himself. You touch your hands to his broad chest.

“You are Omatikaya now. You may make your bow from the wood of Hometree…” You hesitate for but a moment, turning from him you hold your hand out to an atokirina.

“…And you may choose a woman. Or man.” You smirk over your shoulder at him. You giggled at the disgruntled face he makes.

“Woman. Definitely woman…You’re unmated too, right? Can I ask, how come you never chose anyone? You must’ve completed your iknimaya long before I came around…”

He is of course right. There is a pang in your chest as you think on it. Once upon a time you would have been mated to Tsu’tey; but your clashing personalities made such a pairing disastrous. So by your own hand, you sabotaged your own future.

You could have chosen another man, but the fallout with Tsu’tey left you with such a strong impression, you couldn’t bare the thought of Eywa rejecting another union; least of all if it were to be your fault.

You curse yourself then, for the feelings burning inside you. As you stare into Jake’s golden eyes, you know with utter certainty, that you desire him. Your heart yearns for him, aches for his touch. He makes you feel comfortable, safe. Like you can express yourself in ways you wouldn’t to others, and he wouldn’t judge you for it.

You explain to him then, the falling out you had with Tsu’tey, and how it made you feel thereafter. Your heart beats fast in your chest, anxiously you search his gaze for anything close to disgust, almost waiting for an upturned sneer.

But it never comes. He simply smiles down at you, something akin to adoration in those eyes. It fills you with renewed confidence.

“And now…I think I am ready to choose a mate once again…But, he must also choose me.” You grab a hold of his hand, holding it to your face as you stare up at him once more. You watch as realisation slowly takes over, his eyes widening in shock.

“Me?”

You nod, leaning into his hand with closed eyes.

“Yes you…” You whisper into his palm. When you open your eyes once more, you don’t expect to see his face drenched in conflict.

“Jake…?”

“[Y/N]…Of course I choose you, but…”

Oh Eywa no, here comes the rejection. You curse yourself once more, you should have known better, should have kept quiet.

But he doesn’t say anything more. You notice he is looking at his own hands, once pinching the palm of the other. He’s grimacing, lost in his own thoughts.

“The people accepted me, and I’m grateful, really I mean that, I couldn’t be happier…But a part of me still feels, because of my demon blood, can I really be true Na’vi? And, what if something happens to this body? Or, or what if something happens to the link bed I’m lying in? Are you sure you wanna risk being with someone who could drop dead at any second?”

You heart breaks. You had no idea he had been harbouring such thoughts, such insecurities. You grab his face in both your hands, pulling him to meet your eyes once more.

“You are more Na’vi than you give yourself credit for. Eywa saved you in that forest from my sister, and it is by Her Will, that you stand before me. Do not ever doubt yourself like this, you hear me? The man I see before me is not his past, but the future he needs only to reach out and grab with both hands.”

Jake’s lips quiver slightly, but he swallows his would be tears and instead smiles down at you. It feels like the sun kissing your skin. He hands move to grab your face in turn. He says nothing, but slowly leans forward. You tilt your head as you lean closer to him. He stops just shy of touching you, as if to give you one last chance to back away.

Not a fucking chance.

You close the gap without a moment of hesitation.

When your lips meet, you can’t help but inhale sharply. The feeling of his soft lips on yours, it is as though something burst inside you; flooding you with a calming warmth. It seeps into your very bones, bringing an unexpected relief, and a sense of Home.

Tentatively, he moves his mouth against yours. Each move slow and meaningful. His thumbs gently caressing your cheekbones. You press yourself harder, deepening the kiss. He moans into your mouth when you do, and he feels you smirk against him.

Cheeky.

He licks your bottom lip, and when you squeak in surprise, he wastes no time invading you with his long thick wet tongue. Your legs feel weak as he explores every part of your mouth, from the tips of your fangs, to the slick of your own tongue. The two of you tangle in each other, tasting, lapping up each other, until the need to breath becomes too much.

Slowly you pull away, laboured breath mixing with one another. He rests his forehead against you, his eyes search yours, though you know not for what. You kiss him lightly on the nose, giving him the reassurance he so desperately seeks.

You take a step back, grabbing his hand in yours as you lower yourself to the ground. When the two of you are knelt before one another, you hold his hand up to yours.

“When Na’vi mate…It is a life long bond. We connect our kuru, our queues together. Through it, you will feel what I feel, and I you…Na’vi are taught from a very young age, how sacred this bond is. It is the most spiritual way you will connect with someone, other than Eywa herself. So it cannot happen, until you find your one true mate…It is also, very, very erotic…Or so I’m told,” you can’t help the blush that adorns your face.

You notice though, that Jake doesn’t seem to be shy at all. He looks at you with such reverence. But there is also something behind his gaze, you dare say, almost predatory. As you he would devour you given the chance. The thought alone excites you, a spark igniting a warmth deep within your loins.

“So you tellin’ me young Na’vi teenagers don’t fool around?” You let out a short laugh at his question.

“Some do. But not always. The urges of the body can take over, but tsaheylu will always be sacred. And for some, they would rather share their first time with their mate.” He nods at your explanation.

“So have you ever…?” You shake your head in response.

“Have…you?”

“…In my Sky People body, yeah…” You nod in understanding; the revelation doesn’t surprise you. His people had different cultures from yours, and you mostly chose to remain untouched due to your own fear of rejection.

“Are you nervous?” He asks and you nod.

“But…It’s something I’ve thought about for a very long time…” Your fingers graze his palm, before you slide your fingers between his and gently hold his hand.

“I believe, mating, having sex, the better you understand the other person, the better it feels…I often wondered what my mate would look like…How long, would his fingers be?” Up and down your lithe fingers stroke the space between his own.

“Would his palm be warm, or cold?” You gently grasp his hand, bringing it to cup your face.

“How would it feel, to have him caress my ears?” You press his fingers around the tip of your ear. You bring his other hand to your mouth, gently taking his thumb between your teeth.

“How would it feel, to have him in my mouth? Taste him on my tongue?” Slowly, you let your tongue glide over his digit, sucking him into your mouth. Jake audibly gasps as you, you hear his tail swish behind him excitedly.

You remove his thumb slowly, pressing a kiss to the tip before you move his hand back down. He gulps audibly.

“You, sure you haven’t done this before?” His voice is anxious, and you revel in that fact.

“I am sure…Now, come. Let us mate before Eywa, ma Jake.” You move your queue to the space between you to, and he mirrors your actions.

You watch with baited breath as the pink tendrils seek each other, slowly entwining in brilliant white.

The feeling that floods you is near indescribable; a euphoria done little to know justice from words alone. It is as though you have lived your life as but a portion of a whole being, suddenly made whole through the bond. You feel his heart beating fast in his own chest, but also reverence he holds for you; as though you were the one to paint the stars in the sky, or hold moonlight in your hands.

He pulls you to him, burying his face into the crook of your neck. He bites and licks at the sensitive flesh, eliciting soft moans from you. The unexpected pleasure he feels through the bond pulls a low moan from the back of his throat.

His hands are on you, exploring you, every inch of skin set alight as his fingers glide over you. His mouth trails kisses down to your chest. He gives your nipple a teasing lick, before taking the bud into his mouth. He sucks and licks until it perks, then moves to do the same to the other. Your fingers thread through his hair as he does, short gasps leaving you as he does.

The pleasure travels down into your loins, the warmth slicking your walls.

Once he’s satisfied, he sits up to press his mouth to yours in a bruising kiss. He is far less gentle this time, mouth dominating your own for control, tongue lapping and invading your mouth without warning.

His hand travels down to your sex, gently cupping you through your loin cloth. You moan shamelessly into his mouth as you feel him gently stroke you.

The pleasure is soft and gentle, with a promise of something grand in the distance. But this friction is not enough. You whine when he grazes your clothed clit, and it’s all the indication he needs. He tugs at the hem and you hurriedly undo the seams.

His hand his on you again, fingers gently prying into your aching core. When he feels the wetness of you, he moans and breaks the kiss.

“This all for me baby? You’re so wet already and I’ve barely touched you,” he nips at your lip. You gasp as he coats himself in your juices, then gently start stroking your clit.

“J-Jake…” His name feels like a prayer from your lips.

Slowly he moves into you, pressing one finger into your throbbing pussy. He moves his thumb to rub your clit, all the while he pumps that singular long digit in and out of you.

Your cunt sings with a pleasure you never thought possible, your walls becoming wetter with each deft stroke. The pleasure spreads to every inch of you, ecstasy dancing on every nerve. The pleasure only grows when he inserts a second finger. The coil inside you tightening, the promise of orgasm growing ever closer.

Your hands wrap around his shoulders, pulling him as close to you as possible. You can’t help but grind yourself against his hand, your body demanding more friction.

“Yes, yes, yes ma Jake!” Your voice sings his praises and he quickens his pace.

“That’s is baby, you’re so close I can feel it. Cum on your mate’s fingers,” He moves his mouth to your ear and bites down gently. With one final pump of his fingers you cry out loud as your orgasm hits you. Your walls clentch tightly to his fingers, all the while his thumb gently strokes you as you ride out your pleasure.

When the sensation becomes overwhelming, you whine and tap in on the shoulder. Thankfully he relents, and slowly removes himself from your core.

But the night’s not over yet, and you feel as though that was but a taste of the whole meal.

You can feel his hardened cock aching through the bond.

Instinctively you lay on your back, pulling him with you. You spread your legs as wide as you can, and he nestles between. He removes himself from the constraints of his clothes.

Slowly he rubs his member up and down your slit, lubricating himself as he pumps his hand up and down.

His eyes find yours. Your hand rests beside your face, and he threads his fingers with yours. He squeezes and you squeeze back, nodding your head.

Slowly he starts pushing himself inside you. The feeling is strange and unfamiliar, perhaps even a little uncomfortable. He takes his time though, and you feel the strain of his willpower to move at such a pace. Once he is buried to the hilt, he lets out a shaky breath, resting his head beside you. His laboured breath tickles your ear.

He’s waiting for you to get used to the feeling, giving your body a moment to adjust to the stretch. The uncomfortable feeling from before doesn’t take long to subside, and is instead replaced with a soft pleasant feeling.

You kiss his check, and gently grind yourself against him, encouraging him to move. He groans into your ear, the deep guttural sound of his voice tickling your stomach.

He slowly removes himself, just before the tip, before slamming right back into you. The pleasure that hits you is so sudden you can’t help the loud moan it rips from your throat. He doesn’t wait this time.

With reckless abandon he’s pounding into you, his cock moulding itself into your throbbing walls of your needy pussy. Each thrust makes the most lewd squelch of wetness and flesh you have ever heard. It arouses you even more.

Faster he fucks you, the coil of pleasure tightening once again, threatening to snap at a moments notice. His moans are low and breathless, curse words sprinkled in between as he rides his pleasure within your centre.

Your legs wrap around his waist, allowing his dick to hit a place even deeper than before. Your eyes shut tight as the pleasure nearly overwhelms you. You feel his other hand cup your face, the other still holding your hand tight.

“Open your eyes, [Y/N], please. I wanna see you when you cum.”

With some effort, you open your eyes to lock your gaze with his. The feeling in your heart explodes a million times over as you feel his love for you through the bond, and the joining of your sex. It brings tears to your eyes.

“I love you Jake—my mate—my Jake—forever! I’m so close! Please! Don’t stop!”

He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I love you too [Y/N]…Cum for me again baby, let me feel you one more time.”

The cord snaps and your orgasm hits you hard. The moan from your lips burgeoning on a scream. Your cunt squeezes his cock for all it’s worth. The pleasure burns pleasantly from your clit to the tip of your kuru.

Jake continues his brutal pace while you ride out your orgasm. The sensations that flood him through the bond are enough to bring him to his own release.

“[Y/N]!” With your name on his lips, it only takes a few more thrusts before his burying himself as deep as he can, your pelvis bone aching, as he paints your walls with his seed.

He gives you a few more hard thrusts as he rides out his orgasm.

Finally he collapses on top of you, both of you well spent.

He rolls himself onto his back, pulling you with him. He doesn’t remove himself from you, nor does the bond release.

You lay on top of him then, head reasting on his chest. You listen to the rapid beating of his heart; it fills you again with the feeling of home.

Your hand idly traces the glowing stars on his chest. You are both warm and sweaty. Sticky from your exertions. The air is thick with the scent of mating. But neither of you mind.

One arm wraps around you, securing you to him. He brings his other hand to yours, entwining your fingers in a tight embrace.

“I love you, [Y/N]…”

“I love you too, ma Jake. Hold my hand, and never let go.”

You squeeze his hand, and he squeezes back.

[mariacallous]

Imitation caviar invented in the 1930s could provide the solution to plastic pollution, claims Pierre Paslier, CEO of London-based packaging company Notpla. He discovered the cheap food alternative, invented by Unilever and made using seaweed, after quitting his job as a packaging engineer at L’Oréal.

With cofounder and co-CEO Rodrigo García González, Paslier and Notpla have extended the idea, taking a protein made from seaweed and creating packaging for soft drinks, fast food, laundry detergent, and cosmetics, among other things. They’re also branching out into cutlery and paper.

“Seaweed grows quickly and needs no fresh water, land, or fertilizer,” Paslier explains. “It captures carbon and makes the surrounding waters less acidic. Some species of seaweed can grow up to a meter a day.” Best of all, he says, packaging made from seaweed is completely biodegradable because it’s entirely nature-based.

Paslier noted an amazing coincidence—Alexander Parkes invented the first plastic in Hackney Wick, the same part of East London that, 100 years later, Notpla calls home. Since Parkes’ first invention, waste plastic—especially tiny particles known as microplastics, which take hundreds or thousands of years to break down into harmless molecules—has been wreaking havoc in ecosystems across the world.

Plastic pollution is proving especially damaging in the marine environment, where tiny beads of plastic are deadly to the vital microorganisms that make up plankton and which sequester 30 percent of our carbon emissions, “without us having to build any new fancy technologies,” Paslier says.

Notpla’s plans to replace plastic began with a drink container for marathons. This is, in effect, a very large piece of fake caviar—a small pouch that contains juice or water that athletes can pop in their mouths and swallow when they need rehydration. “We wanted to create something that would feel more like fruit; packaging that you could feel comes more from picking something from a tree than off a production line,” he says.

Paslier showed pictures of two postrace streets—one where refueling came in plastic containers and one where it came in edible Notpla. The first was littered with plastic bottles; the second completely waste-free.

The next step was takeout food containers. Even containers we think are cardboard contain plastic, he says, as grease from food would make plain cardboard too soggy. Working with delivery company Just Eat, Notpla has pioneered a replacement for the per- and polyfluorinated substances (PFAS), the so-called “forever chemical” plastics that currently line cardboard takeout containers. It has even found a way to retrofit its solution into the old PFAS plant, so there was no need to build new factories.

The company is developing soluble sachets for detergent pods, ice-cream scoops, and even paper packing for cosmetics. And there’s plenty of seaweed to experiment with, Paslier points out. “You don’t realize it’s already available massively at scale,” he says. “It’s in our toothpaste, it’s in our beer, it’s in our reduced-fat products—so there’s an existing infrastructure that we can work with without having to build any additional processes.”

[hoes4lino]

A Love Letter I wish It Didn’t Exist 💌

A/N: I been doubting to post this, since this story is an adaptation on a real letter I made about my first love. Hope you guys enjoy! (This is also written in first person)

Genre: Romantic, First love, Angst, Suggestive

Word count: 5k

Reading Time: Approx 18 min

Pairing: Reader x Minho

Warnings: Mentions of substance, Reader can’t express emotions, some suggestive content nothing too explicit, happy ending? is as happy as real life can get.

Do you ever wish to fall in love? Hold someone’s hand in the cold breeze of autumn as the leaves fall. Be someone’s lover as the flowers bloom in spring. Be someone’s warmth during the freezing temperatures of winter? Be someone’s shadow on the strong sun rays of summer?

Yeah, well this doesn’t work for me.

Why you may ask, Ever since I was a child I was spoiled with love from my family and friends, growing up I wondered what I did in my past life to deserve such love.

As I went through my teens I started to despise such attention, why? I wish I knew. Growing up I didn’t have any crushes at all, just people I admired. I would often hear my friends babble about boys, fantasies I wished I never heard, and rant about their love life.

Though I never understood why, why couldn’t I be like them? Feel such a desire to love someone and have that feeling reciprocated.

Faking crushes became part of my life during middle school and high school, I felt like an outcast whenever my friends spoke about love, they were all experienced, yet I barely knew how to love myself.

I started dating a boy, not because I was in love but because I felt I had to, everyone I knew was experienced, yet I kept turning down boys.

I craved to get that tingly feeling my friends always talked about. I wanted to know what was the big deal about, and why people found it so addictive.

What is wrong with me?

This is the phrase that would haunt my mind every time I stared at couples walking on the cold breeze of autumn. ———

My high school years felt like something experimental, I went to parties, drank alcohol, did some weed, and hooked up… not because I was into those things but because I wanted to feel. I wanted to care about something. Yet I never felt anything but regret.

Why can’t I express my emotions? I know they are there. It’s as if they are locked up in a box inside of me.

On the first day of college, I was in a room filled with strangers, not a single familiar face, I felt like an outcast. Everyone is sitting next to someone but me.

As I sat at the back of the class next to a window, my eyes followed the leaves that fell from the trees announcing the beginning of fall.

My mind drifted into a peaceful scenario, everyone’s voices being muted by my brain as I took in such a beautiful scene. My chest felt heavy with emptiness, I would usually have a friend to share this moment with, yet here I sat alone.

I must have been too distracted cause I didn’t notice when he sat next to me, my body slightly jumping at the sudden appearance of the boy who sat next to me.

He was rather handsome, sharp nose, cat-like eyes, dark brown hair, and plump lips. He didn’t say a word though I know he must have felt my eyes on him, maybe he was trying to not embarrass me or maybe he was waiting for me to say something, yet I didn’t.

Once I was done staring I went back to stare at my window, noticing him shifting to look at it too, I couldn’t help but feel some warmth.

Why did I feel like that? He is just a stranger looking at the window… but why out of all these strangers he somehow make me feel at ease?

Freshmen year of college passed by, and I didn’t talk to this man, god knows what’s his name, but for some reason, he felt familiar, as if we had some type of bond. Maybe I’m crazy.

Our interactions that year went from walking to class together to sharing a couple of words when needed during class, it wasn’t until the last marking period that I realized I spent most of my time with him yet we were never close enough.

I felt weird. It felt weird.

Like imagine spending 70% of your day with the same guy for an entire school year and yet you don’t know his name or talk to him at all.

What’s crazier to me is that I feel like I got to know him through that silence… is this feeling what my friends call delusional? Is this real at all? Is it all my head? Can he feel it too?

Summer depression hit me like a truck, I’m not a sad person why do I feel this way? Empty… it’s like my body is craving something yet I don’t know what. I started getting frustrated, I thought spending time with friends and family would fix it, yet it didn’t… I’m missing a part… something.

During summer I went to a bunch of places, all of them filled with hundreds of people, yet my mind seemed to look for one each time… is it… him? ———

Sophomore year of college… I was too excited for my liking, I am usually terrified of new school years, afraid for what awaits me, but today my heart seems to beat faster than usual and it's not because I am nervous, it feels as if I'm waiting for something and I can’t wait to see it.

My day went by pretty fast, I went to my first two classes my heart filling with disappointment each time I scanned the room. At that moment I didn’t exactly know what I was looking for, I never really felt that way before.

The cold breeze was hitting my face as I sat in my business class, my mind focused on whatever I was working on.

“Is this seat taken?”

His voice sent shivers down my body, and my ears immediately recognized his soothing voice.

I look up to glare at him, the breeze coming from the window slightly moving his hair. I could feel my heart beating fast, my tummy doing backflips in excitement… I felt happy… but why?

“No, you can have it” I could feel my voice trembling as I spoke. As soon as he sat down I could only think of one thing.

Should I talk to him? What if I annoy him?

These thoughts consumed my head until the slight shift of his gaze moved toward me, my head immediately snapped to look at him.

“It's been a while,” He said softly with a thin smile on his face, I am not quite sure how I looked at that moment but I felt so self-conscious as I could see his eyes looking at me.

I nodded in response not quite sure what to say to that, I had a million thoughts running through my head, why do I feel this way around him?

“Minho” He continued, it must have been the way my eyes blinked in confusion as he slightly laughed “I figured you didn’t know my name, since we never really introduced ourselves last year” He explained. I wish the earth could eat me whole at this moment, I’m being too awkward. Say something y/n. SAY SOMETHING.

“uh oh,” I chuckled nervously, jesus christ why do I feel like imma puke right here “I’m y/n” I smiled, my gaze moving back to my computer. I was not too fond of the way I was feeling, It felt unknown and that scared me a lot.

Like why am I craving his attention but at the same time I wished he could disappear and leave me alone?

From that day on we became good friends, We would often greet each other and have casual conversations during class.

How much I loved your attention Lee Minho, yet you were clueless about it. If I had to name something I loved about him, I would stay and talk for hours.

“Y/n you are clearly in love” Those words repeated over and over in my head as my friend's voice muffled in the background. Love? “Y/n?” Is this how love feels like? “Y/N!”

I turn to look at my friend as she nudged my shoulder “All you talk about recently is about that damn boy, maybe you are finally catching feelings”

That night I stared at my ceiling, my eyes feeling heavy. Even when I was half asleep I would think of him. It wasn’t until I was almost asleep that I realized I was smiling hard at the thought of seeing him tomorrow.

I quickly sat on my bed, the darkness of my room surrounding me. Is this what love feels like? On one side I felt warm, but on the other side, I felt cold and afraid… what if he doesn’t like me? what if he does? Am I confused? Do I like him? Why him out of everyone? Why now and not before?

The next day I was so excited to see him, waking up a little earlier than usual to look good for him. I made my way through the lengthy hallways of our college when I spotted him. I felt nervous as I walked up to him, my heart falling to my stomach as I spotted him next to this beautiful girl.

She had long black straight hair, she was short and had a fit body, her curves were out of this world… and her face… don’t get me started.

I turned around with heavy feet, immediately searching for a bathroom.

I locked myself into a stall, it was 8:36 am.

Rule #3 don’t cry. Ever since I was a child I learned that crying doesn’t solve anything and that crying makes things worse, therefore I always hold my tears no matter how big the urge to cry.

In all my years of living, I never felt such an urge to cry as I did at that moment. I sat on the toilet concentrating on my breathing. The number of thoughts filling my mind was suffocating, I needed fresh air. Why do I feel like this? Why does my heart feel so heavy?

I left the stall to go to my business class, seeing him that day felt different, I was mad at him for some reason. Why? Is it because of the girl? He can have friends, is not like we are something, I remind myself.

That day I rushed to get home, the intrigue to know who this girl was, eating me alive.

I should have stayed curious.

Jasmine Kim, president of the architecture club, Asian student union, business manager of the robotics club, Academic weapon, and athletic.

How come have I never seen her before?

“ouuuu seems someone is jealous” My friend teased me through the phone, making me even more mad. I called her seeking help not to be made fun of. Ever since I did an FBI-type research on this girl I can’t help but compare myself to her. I never knew how to love myself, and this… this brought me to my lowest.

I hate feeling this way. I wouldn't say I like it. But no matter how mad I was, I couldn’t hate him.

Sophomore year went flying by, Minho seemed to grow close to Jasmine, and as much I wish I could say that didn’t affect me… it did. I decided to distance myself, after all, it was all a one-sided thing and it was for my well-being… right?

He had no clue about my feelings, so it wouldn’t matter if I suddenly disappeared from his life.

I felt selfish during this time, selfish of the way I treated him, I would ignore him during class or even his texts and he wouldn’t know why. He didn’t deserve this treatment, he didn’t deserve to be affected by my own emotions. ———

It’s the last summer days of 2023. Junior year started and it feels like it’s about to end. This year I haven’t seen Minho at all, my heart dies to see him but we have no classes together and my tight schedule keeps me busy from thinking of him.

“Remember Minho, The guy you had a crush on” My friend spoke on the the phone as I was too concentrated doing homework “What about him” I asked as I felt a knot forming in my stomach. I hated the way his name could get under my skin.

“He just joined my division in the robotics club and let me tell you that man is a complete dickhead” For some reason I felt the urge to fight back, defend him, and ask for an explanation; but I was too embarrassed for feeling this way I ignored her words “He is a man after all” Is all I managed to say, the curiosity eating me alive as I tried to not seem interested on what he could do to upset my friend.

After I found out about him being on the robotics club, I found myself going to the club often, I wasn’t part of it but I would make excuses to go and get glimpses of him.

The way he looked with his goggles on and thin layers of sweat on his skin. That man was dreamy no matter what he did.

No matter what I did to forget him, he would always be on my mind. In every room with hundreds of people, he would be the one I would look for.

“Excuse me” I raised my gaze to be met with a blond guy, he was the opposite of Minho, blond hair, a soft innocent face, freckles, and light brown eyes.

He was indeed pretty, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in knowing who this man was “I’m Felix” He said cheerfully.

I couldn’t help but compare him with Minho, unlike Minho he was friendly and straightforward “I’ve seen you around and I would like to get to know you”

To this day I feel so selfish for what I did. I thought that having someone's attention would make me forget you, yet you would still live rent-free on my head 24/7. I would often catch myself thinking about you. How was your day? Why do you look tired? Did you eat anything?

How much I wished I could get you out of my mind Lee Minho.

Putting him to the side, I and Felix spent a lot of time together, we had an art history class together, so we often met at the library to finish our projects.

“Would you like to go out for some beers with me and my friends?”

How much I wish I would of said no that day, maybe, just maybe that would have changed the track of things now. ———

I showed up, wearing my favorite cargo pants and a cute lace top, I had my favorite jewelry on and I went for a half-up hairstyle. I didn’t wanna go full-on dress up but I wanted to look classy and comfy at the same time.

How much I wish I would have worn something else.

I could feel my heart dropping to my stomach as the first person I spotted was him.

There are at least 100 people in this bar, yet there he is, sitting under the dim neon lights of the bar, he is wearing a full-on black outfit, his shirt unbuttoned showing a bit of his chest.

Talk about a man whore.

I jolt as I feel the warmth of a hand on my waist, turning around to be met with Felix. To this day I remember all this crystal clear, detail to detail.

I could tell he already had a couple of shots by the way he would slur his words.

“This is my homie Minho” He patted his back as he introduced me to him “We have known each other since high school, he can be our best man at our wedding”

I tried my best to not scoff at his words, wedding? We not even dating. I can tell Minho didn’t like this comment either by the way his posture became stiff and sat properly.

“Damn Felix, already feeling drunk,” He said in a tone that I can’t decipher to this day. It sounded annoyed but at the same time playful.

Minho stood from his chair and let Felix take it, he ordered him another drink and took me to another table.

“So you and Felix huh?” He sounded annoyed. At that moment I felt like I had to give him an explanation “We are not dating” I said briefly, why did I say that? That’s not his business.

“I see,” he said shortly. I remember the way my heart would pound, my hands were sweaty and I could feel my stomach doing backflips. I have never been so nervous around him till this day.

Maybe it was because it was our first time alone outside of school hours… or the shot of tequila I had was hitting.

As we both sat at a table away from our friends I could feel the way his eyes would travel around my body, I felt self-conscious.

The way his eyes would burn my skin is a feeling I miss with my whole heart. The chokehold you have on me Lee Minho.

“I love your necklace” He leaned to take a better look, his hand hesitating to grab the little Swarovski swan that hung on my neck.

His breath tickled my neck and I could feel myself shiver. I'm not sure if he was doing this on purpose but he was driving me crazy.

“Thank you, It’s my first ever expensive necklace,” I said as I tried to ignore the warmth of his breath on my neck “I bought it for myself on my birthday” I smiled as his gaze moved to look at my eyes.

“You gifted it to yourself?” I nodded “It’s expensive, I didn’t expect someone else to get it for me” I’m not sure if I was tripping but by the look on his face I could tell he wasn’t pleased with my answer.

His eyes looked at me with a million expressions written in them, the soft neon lights of the bar shone like a galaxy in them.

“I would treat you like a princess if you were mine”

I hate you.

How can you say that to me and then leave Lee Minho?

To this day I can hear your voice saying those words to me at night. It’s like if you engraved it on my brain so that every time I'm about to go to sleep I can hear it.

After he told me those words, I felt him getting closer, his hand on my hand as his eyes begged me for permission.

“May I?” His voice was as soft as the singing of an angel. Next thing I remember his plump lips were against mine. It was a sincere kiss.

There was no way he liked me back… I mean… I saw the way he treated Jasmine. This had to be a sick joke. I gently pushed him away, his face pouting as my lips left his.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped” He backed away, as he was getting ready to leave. I panicked. I didn’t want him to leave.

I grabbed his wrist out of instinct “What’s your relationship with Jasmine?” My impulsive thoughts got the best of me. He looked at me with a puzzled look “Jasmine?” He chuckled.

“Answer me,” I said coldly, no expression on my face. I was trying to not crack in front of him. I wanted to hear the answer I craved for months.

“She is a mutual childhood friend, she is captain of my robotics subdivision, so we keep in contact” His words lingered in the air as I tried to fit the pieces together in my brain.

Does that mean he likes me? Why he kissed me?

“Is that why you pulled away?” He asked softly as if he was trying not to scare me away. On the other hand, I was embarrassed, I didn’t have the guts to say yes so I simply nodded.

He chuckled one more time.

If he only knew how much I adored his laugh, the way it would fill my heart with joy. His laugh was like listening to my favorite song for the first time. How much I miss it.

He sat down again and leaned closer, his hand cupping my cheek as he stared at me with soft eyes. How much I wanted to kill him in that moment, why would he ever look at me with such a gaze?

“That was my first kiss” My world stopped. What? No way… he was playing games with me.

Before I could even talk he stood up from his chair and offered me a hand.

“Would you dance with me?”

That night we danced under the neon lights of the bar, without a single worry of the world. I was shy but with him, I felt like the most confident person in the room.

This was the beginning of an intoxicating relationship. ———

Maybe our story didn’t last long but the time we spent together is something I will treasure my whole life.

Dating Minho was like walking by the shore late at night. It was peaceful, too good to be true. I was too drunk on his love I wished it would never fade away.

I'm grateful for the amazing experience he gave me those years we dated. I learned to love, but most importantly I learned to love myself.

“You look beautiful” I opened my eyes to see him laying next to me, eyes in awe as he moved my hair away from my face. “Ur lying” I giggled trying to cover myself from his gaze. It was 8am, this man was definitely blind in love if he thought I looked beautiful in the morning.

That day something felt off, he was not the type to speak his mind, he talked through gestures not words. Yet today he was too talkative. Complimented me every chance he got.

It was around 7pm, he was in the kitchen cooking dinner while I was in our bed scrolling through TikTok mindlessly. I heard a notification coming off from his phone. Im not the type to check my boyfriend’s phone but the notifications weren’t stopping.

I stood up to pick it up from his desk and go leave it to him, whoever was texting definitely had something to say; however as I saw who was texting him, I couldn’t help myself but take a peek.

‘Minho you need to tell her now’

‘Don’t make this harder for yourself’

‘Think about her happiness’

I was puzzled as I read the texts, it was Jasmine who was sending them… what she meant by that… I was startle when he called me name “y/n dinner is ready”

I placed his phone down. Anxiety consuming me, tears threatening to fall, thoughts suffocating my mind.

As I sat in the dining table I contemplated whether I should confront him or not, he looked happy. What was he hiding.

“If someone ever asked me what I love the most about you” His words brought me back from my thoughts. I looked at him, my face had no expression, I didn’t know how to feel. “I would say your eyes” I could see the way his face lit as he spoke about me, his cheeks flushing as he giggled like a teenage girl in love.

I couldn’t help but smile, this was something I loved about him, he always knew how to make me smile. “What is this compliment for?” I knew he had something to say, I looked directly into his eyes, trying to make him crack. Reveal his secret.

“Nothing special, I have always loved your eyes but I was too shy to say it” He said vaguely while he ate his pasta “And why say it now?” I never took my eyes off him, I saw the way his eyes looked at me nervously, he was definitely hiding something.

He didn’t answer my question, he just smiled “Would you love me even if we were kilometers far away?” His tone was serious, I felt shivers running down my spine as I felt the coldness from the question.

“Of course I would silly, why?” I said trying to kill the tension that suddenly sparked in the room. He remained quiet but then he shook it off and offered me a smile, though there was something off about it.

We were preparing to go to bed, I was already changed into my nightgown while I brushed my teeth. Minho was taking a quick shower before bed, although he was taking longer than usual, so I decided to wait for him in bed.

About an hour had passed my eyes felt heavy, debating whether I should check on him or try to sleep, His behavior today kept worrying me, he was acting weird and he wasn’t getting off the shower. I didn’t like the tension that has been lingering since dinner.

I entered the bathroom, the shower was still on, the hot water causing the mirror to fog “Honey?” I said softly, the water turning off at the sound of my voice. He took his towel and dry himself vaguely, wrapping it around his waist.

He stood in front of me, hair wet, eyes glossy and lips parted. Im not quite sure if it was steam trapped in the bathroom or his breath taking appearance that made it hard to breathe.

Without notice he kissed my lips, his body pushing me towards the counter, I gasped as he picked me up so I would sat on the counter, he kept kissing me, so desperate so passionate. Something was off.

Minho was the type to take things slow yet today he was kissing me like it was his last time. That’s when my stomach dropped, the texts flashed in my head, his glossy eyes, the long shower, his question during dinner.

He was leaving me.

I placed my hands on his shoulder, gently pushing him, my heart shattering into pieces as I saw his tears rolling down his cheeks. I was quiet. Should I say something? Should I let him talk first?

He just stood in front of me, his gaze on my chest. I took a deep breath, a breath that held back my emotions, I know Minho and the last thing he would want to see is me crying for him.

I gently placed a hand on his cheek, ever so lightly like I was touching his fragile soul, and slowly I leaned to kiss his lips.

“I love you” I muttered in his lips, his hands moving to wrap me into a tight hug. This was the first time in three years of our relationship I ever said ‘I love you’ ———

The next morning I was cradled in his arms, my fingertips gently rubbing the scratch marks I left from last night.

I looked up to see him in a peaceful slumber. I looked at his plump lips I was busy kissing last night, I heard his stable heartbeat that brought peace to my mind, and I felt his warm skin touching mine. I wish I could capture all this in time. In all our years of knowing each other, that day felt like we truly got to know each other.

“I’m leaving to study abroad” My heart stopped. His words repeated in my head, tears threatening to fall “I’ll go wherever you go” My body betrayed me as tears rolled down my cheeks.

“Y/N” He hugged me as I tried to push him away “Your life is here, you can’t just abandon everything for me” He started crying as he hugged me tighter. I kept fighting back I wanted to push him away and look him in the eyes.

“You are my everything Minho” I screamed into his chest, my words being muffled. I could hear his heart-stopping, and that’s when I realized he was equally heartbroken as me.

I stopped fighting to hug him back, breaking into an inconsolable crying, he cried with me, our bodies dropping to the floor as we never separated from each other.

I had to let go. ———

A year passed after our break up, our memories playing vividly every time I walked by our favorite restaurant or the park he took me on our first date.

It was a cold day in the fall of 2023, I was making my way into the subway. I was listening to our shared playlist. I always listen to it when I have a bad day, it brings me comfort, and our memories warm my heart.

That’s when I saw him. My eyes must have been playing with my heart, I didn’t have time to process it when I found myself running towards him.

“Minho..” I said shyly, I hadn’t seen him in a year and now he dared to appear. His expression when he saw me copied mine. We were both equally stunned to see each other.

He hugged me without saying a single word, though I’m not surprised he spoke through actions, not words.

However, this is not a Disney fairytale where everything has a happy ending. We caught up with each other’s life, we had a great time together, and our connection didn’t fade away although we spent a year with no communication; however, it was time to say goodbye again.

It’s up to fate if our future is meant to be together, but something we both left clear is that we will always love each other.

So in conclusion. Lee Minho I hate you for stealing my heart but at the same time the love I profound you is a light in my heart that will never turn off no matter what the Universe has planned for us.

A love letter I wish it didn’t exist.

The end

A/N: The amount of tears I shed writing this is astonishing- anyway hope y’all liked it, the timeline in this is very inaccurate and my brain kept messing up, so if something looks off please tell me. Thank you <3

[starry-hughes]

baby’s first christmas (quinn hughes)

day 20 of star’s ficmas

sawyer tkachuk x quinn hughes (au)

Sawyer Tkachuk and Quinn Hughes were tied together by an invisible string. It probably tied them together long before they met, long before Quinn made friends with Brady Tkachuk, and long before the two realized they were in love.

Sawyer hadn’t found passion in hockey like her family did. She’d rather paint her brothers on the ice, not be on the ice. The sad part about it all, was that she wasn’t always met with support. Quinn once showed up to an art show when no one else did. He was always there.

The two had eloped, Ellen Hughes being the sole witness. They didn’t need anything big or special, just them. Sawyer’s family felt a bit upset that they weren’t in attendance but Sawyer didn’t care. She was happy and that’s what mattered.

Months after the wedding, Sawyer was pregnant. And then the couple spent their New Years Eve in the hospital, thirty minutes before January 1st, they welcomed Poppy into the world. Watching the fireworks from the window as they soaked in their first hours with their daughter.

Poppy was almost a year old when Christmas came around. Sawyer was a bit sad that Poppy wasn’t a baby for the holiday, but she was still excited to have Poppy to celebrate with.

Quinn had put the tree together before leaving for morning skate. When he came home, there were ornaments decorating the tree. Poppy hadn’t mastered walking yet but she sure did know how to pull herself up on things. Out of fear for injury, Sawyer had put a baby gate around the tree, just in case Poppy wanted to try using the Christmas tree to pull herself up.

“Hi my girls,” Quinn greeted as he entered the living room. Poppy happily crawled over to her dad before he picked her up. “Hi bubba, did you help mommy decorate?”

“Daddy has to help to put up the star, right Pop?”

Sawyer happily watched, videoing as Quinn held Poppy on his hip and lifted the star to the top of the tree. “Yay Poppy!” Quinn cheered as if the baby did all the hard work.

Colorful lights illuminated the room as How the Grinch Stole Christmas played on the TV. Due to the fact that the Canucks played the day before Christmas Eve, the three of them would be spending Christmas in Vancouver. Poppy had her pacifier in her mouth, sleeping peacefully halfway through the movie. “I’m going to put her down,” Sawyer whispered to Quinn, who was almost asleep.

On Christmas Eve, Poppy had been good. She sat happily through mandatory phone calls with both her grandparents and uncles and aunts. “Is Santa visiting you tonight Pop?” Matthew Tkachuk cooed over the phone, resulting in a quick nod from Poppy.

Poppy had tried yanking down her own stocking but was stopped by Quinn who placed her in air jail until she stopped her fake crying. “I think someone is ready for bed,” Quinn said.

Sawyer sat with Poppy in her arms, Quinn next to them with a book, The Night Before Christmas. “‘Twas the night before Christmas…” Quinn started.

In her Christmas pajamas and her favorite pacifier, Poppy rested in her crib. As soon as she was asleep, Quinn and Sawyer worked to get all the gifts wrapped and under the tree. Quinn shoved cookies into his mouth and made sure to leave crumbs from Santa. “Quinn,” Sawyer began as she wrapped a drum set Luke was insistent on getting Poppy, “she’s going to be almost two years old next Christmas.”

“She’ll still be our baby.”

Quinn was awoken by soft babbling emitting from the baby monitor. He rolled over, kissing and waking Sawyer. “Merry Christmas,” he mumbled. Sawyer happily retrieved Poppy from crib, Poppy’s full head of hair was curly and messy. “Look Poppy! Santa came!”