#for some of the things i agree i guess but

[harrysfolklore]

christ-max -mv1

summary: you invite your boyfriend max to spend christmas with you for the first time, however, your family doesn't quite believe you're dating a formula 1 world champion. wc: 5.8k

folkie radio: HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL OF YOUUUU! i hope you're having the best day ever with your loves ones. this fic ended up being longer than i intended but i hope you like it!

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

You're nestled into Max's side on his couch, wrapped in the soft throw blanket he keeps specifically for these quiet moments together. The afternoon light filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his Monaco apartment, casting a glow across the room. Your feet are tucked under you, and you can smell the lingering scent of the coffee you both made earlier.

The Netflix show you'd put on - some random documentary about deep-sea creatures - has become mere background noise. Max's fingers are threading through your hair in that gentle way that always makes you melt, occasionally stopping to massage your scalp. .

"I can't believe the season's actually over," you murmur, tracing lazy patterns on his arm. "Feels weird not having to plan around race weekends anymore."

Max chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest where your head rests. "Yeah, but now we have to plan around all the end-of-year events instead. Did you see how many galas and ceremonies are coming up?"

"At least those don't involve you flying halfway across the world," you tease, tilting your head to look up at him. His hair is slightly messy, free from its usual styling, and you resist the urge to reach up and run your fingers through it.

"True," he agrees, then glances at his phone on the coffee table. "Speaking of events, I can't believe it's already December. Christmas is going to be here before we know it. Guess time flies when you're busy winning championships."

Your heart skips a beat. This is the opening you've been waiting for. You've been thinking about this for weeks, planning how to bring it up. "Actually… I wanted to ask you something about Christmas," you start, sitting up slightly to face him better.

Max's blue eyes meet yours, curious. "What's on your mind?"

"Well…" you bite your lip, suddenly feeling nervous despite knowing there's no reason to be. "I was wondering if you'd want to spend Christmas with me and my family this year? I know we've kept things private, but I really want them to meet you, and-"

"Wait, really?" Max interrupts, his whole face lighting up with that boyish excitement that made you fall for him in the first place. "You want me to meet your family?"

You can't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "Of course I do. We've been together almost a year now, and they keep asking why I'm always smiling at my phone." You playfully poke his side. "Which is your fault, by the way."

He catches your hand, intertwining your fingers. "My fault? I'm just being my naturally charming self," he grins, then his expression turns slightly more serious. "But are you sure? I mean, won't they be surprised when you show up with, well…"

"With a four-time World Champion?" you finish for him, laughing. "Actually, my dad might pass out. He's been watching F1 since before I was born. He has no idea I've been dating his favorite driver."

Max's eyebrows shoot up. "I'm his favorite driver?"

"Don't let it go to your head," you warn playfully. "But yeah, he's got your merchandise and everything. It's actually kind of embarrassing how much he talks about you during race weekends."

Max throws his head back laughing, and you can't help but join in. "Oh God, this is going to be interesting," he says, wiping at his eyes. "What about the rest of your family?"

"Well, Mom will probably try to feed you until you burst - she's like that with everyone. And my little sister Ruby, she's seven and she's going to have so many questions. She's in that phase where she wants to know everything about everything."

"I can handle questions," Max says confidently, then hesitates. "What kind of questions are we talking about?"

You pretend to think about it. "Oh, you know, probably things like 'How fast have you ever driven?' 'Have you ever crashed?' 'Do you want to marry my sister?'"

Max nearly chokes on air at the last one, his cheeks turning slightly pink. "You're joking, right?"

"About Ruby? Nope, she has absolutely no filter," you laugh, then soften your voice. "But seriously, they're going to love you. Just be yourself - the you I know, not the racing driver everyone else sees."

He pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I'd love to spend Christmas with your family. I can't wait to meet them." He pauses, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Should I wear my race suit when I meet your dad?"

You swat his arm, laughing. "Don't you dare! He'll actually faint." You settle back against his chest, feeling warm and content. "Thank you for saying yes. It means a lot to me."

"Thank you for asking me," he murmurs into your hair. "I love you."

"I love you too," you respond, smiling as his arms tighten around you. The documentary continues playing, forgotten again as you both start planning for Christmas, trading ideas and jokes about how to break the news to your family.

You're sitting cross-legged on Max's bed while he's in the shower, your phone propped up against a pillow as you FaceTime your family. Your mom's face fills most of the screen, with your dad peering over her shoulder and little Ruby bouncing around trying to get a better view.

"Honey, we can barely see you. The lighting is terrible," your mom critiques, and you adjust your position slightly.

"Better?"

"Much better! Now, what's this important thing you wanted to tell us about Christmas?" Your mom asks, while Ruby shouts "Is it presents?" in the background.

You take a deep breath, trying to contain your smile. "Well, I wanted to let you know that I'm bringing someone with me this year… my boyfriend."

There's an immediate explosion of excitement. Ruby starts jumping up and down, your mom gasps dramatically, and your dad's eyebrows shoot up with interest.

"Finally!" your mom exclaims. "We've been wondering when you'd introduce him. You've been so secretive about this boyfriend of yours."

"What's his name?" Ruby pipes up, her face suddenly taking up half the screen as she pushes closer to the camera. "Is he nice? Does he like Disney movies?"

You laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Yes, Rubes, he's very nice. And his name is…" you pause, knowing what's coming. "Max. Max Verstappen."

There's a moment of silence before your dad bursts out laughing. "Good one, sweetheart. Now, what's his real name?"

"I'm serious, Dad. I'm dating Max Verstappen."

Your mom is trying to hold back her laughter now too. "Honey, isn't that the racing driver you and your father are always watching? The one your dad has all those caps and shirts of?"

"Yes, and I'm actually dating him," you insist, feeling your cheeks heat up.

Ruby's face scrunches up in confusion. "The fast car man? From TV?"

"The very same one, Rubes."

Your dad wipes tears from his eyes. "Come on now, what's next? Are you going to tell us you're best friends with Lewis Hamilton too?"

"Dad!" you groan, running a hand over your face. "I'm being serious! We've been dating for almost a year. I'm literally at his place right now!"

"In Monaco?" your dad asks skeptically. "Prove it."

You swing your phone around to show the familiar view of Monaco through the windows, but your dad just shakes his head. "Could be any apartment in Monaco."

"You're impossible!" you huff. "Fine, don't believe me. You'll see at Christmas."

Ruby presses her face closer to the screen again. "Will he bring his race car?"

"No, Rubes, he can't bring the race car," you say, softening your tone for your little sister. "But I promise you'll love him."

After a few more minutes of your family teasing you about your "imaginary Formula 1 driver boyfriend," you end the call with a mix of frustration and amusement. Just as you flop back onto the bed, you hear the bathroom door open and Max walks out, his hair still damp from the shower.

"How'd it go?" he asks, noticing your expression.

You let out a laugh. "They think I'm making you up. They literally don't believe I'm dating you."

Max raises his eyebrows, looking amused as he sits next to you on the bed. "Really?"

"Really. Dad laughed so hard he nearly cried. And Ruby, my little sister, just wants to know if you're bringing your race car for Christmas."

"Sorry to disappoint Ruby," he grins, then looks thoughtful. "You know, maybe we should've waited to tell them in person. The looks on their faces would've been priceless."

"Oh, don't worry," you sit up, wrapping your arms around his neck. "They'll still be priceless. Dad's going to lose it when he realizes all those times he was rambling about you during races, he was actually talking about his daughter's boyfriend."

Max laughs, pulling you closer. "What else should I know before meeting them?"

"Well, Ruby's seven and obsessed with Frozen. She'll definitely make you watch it and probably sing along too."

"I can handle that," he says confidently.

"And recite all the lines?"

"…Maybe not that."

"And act out the scenes with her?"

Max's eyes widen slightly. "What have I gotten myself into?"

You kiss his cheek. "Too late to back out now, Verstappen. You're stuck with us."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," he murmurs, pulling you in for a proper kiss. "Even if it means playing Olaf the snowman."

"Oh no, you'll definitely be playing Elsa. Ruby's very particular about casting."

The look of horror on his face makes you burst out laughing, and soon he's joining in too. As your laughter dies down, you can't help but think about how perfect this feels - being here with him, planning to spend Christmas with your family, even if they don't believe you yet. You can't wait to see their faces when you show up at their door with Max Verstappen himself.

"Hey," Max says softly, breaking into your thoughts. "What are you smiling about?"

"Just thinking about how Christmas is going to be interesting this year."

"Interesting is one way to put it," he grins. "Should I wear my race suit when we arrive?"

"Don't you dare! Dad will actually faint."

"That's kind of the point," he winks, and you grab a pillow to hit him with, both of you dissolving into laughter again.

"Let me guess, another text from 'Max Verstappen'?" your dad teases from his spot at the kitchen counter, making air quotes with his fingers. He's wearing one of his many Red Bull Racing shirts, completely oblivious to the irony.

"Actually, yes," you reply, rolling your eyes. "He'll be here soon."

Your mom chuckles while peeling potatoes. "Honey, you can just tell us who your boyfriend really is. We won't judge, even if he's not a Formula 1 champion."

"Mom, I've told you a million times-"

"LOOK!" Ruby crashes into the kitchen, pointing at the TV in the living room where they're showing highlights from the last race. "It's YN's boyfriend!" She dissolves into giggles, clearly in on what she thinks is a funny joke.

"Very funny, Rubes," you mutter, but check your phone again when it buzzes.

Max: "Just turned onto your street. Nice neighborhood 😉"

Your heart starts beating faster. "He's here," you announce, heading toward the front door.

"Oh, we're still doing this?" your dad calls after you, amused. "Should I get my Max Verstappen cap for him to sign?"

"Actually, Dad, yes, you should," you shout back, slipping on your boots.

"Sweetie," your mom starts in that gentle voice she uses when she thinks you're being ridiculous, "you don't have to-"

The sound of a car pulling up interrupts her. You open the front door and step out onto the porch, watching as Max's car comes to a stop in your driveway. Your family has crowded behind you in the doorway, probably expecting to catch you in your "lie."

Max steps out of the car, looking unfairly handsome in his dark winter coat and scarf. His face lights up when he sees you, and you don't hesitate to run down the steps toward him.

"Hi," he grins, catching you in a tight hug and lifting you slightly off your feet. "Missed you."

You hear a loud gasp behind you, followed by what sounds like your dad choking on air.

"Missed you too," you murmur against his chest before turning to face your family, keeping one arm wrapped around his waist.

The scene on your front porch is priceless. Your dad's mouth is hanging open, his face pale except for two bright red spots on his cheeks. Your mom has both hands pressed to her face in shock. Ruby is the only one moving, bouncing up and down with excitement.

"IT REALLY IS THE FAST CAR MAN!" she shrieks, breaking the silence as she barrels down the steps toward you both.

Max laughs, crouching down to her level. "Hi Ruby. Nice to finally meet you. Your sister has told me a lot about you."

"You're real!" she exclaims, poking his arm as if to make sure.

"Very real," he confirms, looking thoroughly amused.

"I… you… but…" your dad stammers, still frozen in the doorway.

"Hi, Mr. and Mrs. LN," Max says, standing back up and guiding you and Ruby toward the porch. "Thank you for having me for Christmas."

Your mom seems to snap out of her shock first. "Oh my goodness, please come in! It's freezing out here. I… oh dear… the potatoes… I should… more food… I need to…"

"Mom, breathe," you laugh, as Max follows you inside.

Your dad hasn't moved an inch, still staring at Max like he's seeing a ghost. "You're… you're actually… the Brazil overtake…"

"Dad, no F1 talk yet!" you warn. "Let him at least get his coat off first."

"Right! Yes! Coat!" your dad says frantically. "I'll take your coat! And then maybe… could you… would you mind signing my…"

"Collection?" you finish for him, smirking. "The one you thought I was making up?"

Max raises his eyebrows at you, remembering your conversation about your dad's merchandise collection.

Ruby tugs on Max's hand. "Do you want to see my Frozen dolls? And can we watch the movie? Sissy said you've never seen it!"

"Ruby, let him settle in first," your mom calls from the kitchen, where she appears to be panic-cooking. "Oh God, is the food good enough? Do Formula 1 drivers have special diets? Should I-"

"Mom, the food will be perfect," you assure her, then turn to Max. "See? I told you they'd be cool about it."

Max tries to suppress his laugh as your dad continues to stare at him in awe, your mom stress-cooks enough food to feed an army, and Ruby continues pulling on his hand.

"Very cool," he agrees, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Though I think your dad might need to sit down."

"I'm fine!" your dad squeaks, then immediately sits down heavily on the nearest chair. "Just… just give me a minute to process that my daughter is actually dating Max Verstappen and I've been accidentally talking about my future son-in-law during every race and-"

"DAD!" you exclaim, feeling your face heat up while Max chuckles beside you.

"What? I'm just saying… all those times I said 'that Verstappen boy would make someone a good husband someday' and it turns out-"

"Okay!" you interrupt loudly. "Who wants coffee? Max, come help me with coffee!"

As you drag a laughing Max toward the kitchen, you hear Ruby start explaining the entire plot of Frozen to him, your mom muttering about needing to buy more food, and your dad still talking to himself about racing statistics.

"Still think this was a good idea?" you whisper to Max.

He pulls you closer, grinning. "The best. Though you might want to tell your dad to breathe before he passes out."

"Can we build a snowman after coffee?" Ruby calls out.

"Only if Max gets to be Elsa!" you shout back, earning you a playful glare from your boyfriend.

Looking around at your slightly chaotic but loving family, and seeing how naturally Max fits into it all, you can't help but smile. This is definitely going to be a Christmas to remember.

The initial chaos has settled into a cozy scene in your living room. You're curled up on the couch next to Max, who has Ruby practically attached to his side. She hasn't stopped talking since everyone sat down, and Max, to his credit, is giving her his complete attention.

"And then Elsa makes this huge ice castle," Ruby explains, using elaborate hand gestures. "Can you drive as fast as Elsa runs up the mountain?"

"Probably faster," Max answers with a grin, making Ruby's eyes widen.

"Even in the snow?"

"Even in the snow."

Your dad, who's finally regained his ability to form complete sentences, sits in his armchair trying very hard not to bombard Max with racing questions. He keeps opening his mouth, then closing it again when you give him a warning look.

"It's okay, Dad," you laugh. "You can ask him one race question. Just one."

Your dad looks like he might cry from happiness. "The overtake in Brazil-"

"Which one?" Max asks with a playful smirk, and your dad launches into an enthusiastic discussion about racing lines and grip levels.

Your mom returns from the kitchen with a tray of hot chocolate and cookies, having finally accepted that she doesn't need to cook enough food for an entire F1 paddock. "Here we go. I hope it's okay, Max. YN mentioned you like hot chocolate."

"It's perfect, thank you," Max says warmly, accepting a mug.

Ruby immediately reaches for a cookie, then pauses. "Do race car drivers eat cookies?"

"Only the fast ones," Max whispers conspiratorially, making her giggle.

"Ruby, give Max some space to breathe," your mom says gently, noticing how your sister is practically in his lap.

"It's fine," Max assures her. "I have nephews. I'm used to it."

Ruby beams at this information. "Really? Do they like Frozen too?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure they'd love to hear your explanation of it," he says, and Ruby launches into another detailed plot summary.

You catch your mom watching the interaction with soft eyes, all her earlier panic forgotten. She meets your gaze and mouths 'He's wonderful' when Ruby isn't looking.

Your dad has moved on from Brazil to discussing tire strategies, but stops himself mid-sentence. "Sorry, I'm probably boring you. You live this stuff."

"Not at all," Max says sincerely. "It's nice talking about it with someone who understands racing. YN usually just tells me to stop being a nerd when I talk about tire compounds."

"Because you spent two hours explaining the difference between C3 and C4 compounds!" you defend yourself.

"It's fascinating stuff," your dad says eagerly, and Max nods in agreement.

"Oh no, there's two of them now," you mutter to your mom, who laughs.

Ruby tugs on Max's sleeve. "Can we watch Frozen now? Please? You promised!"

"Ruby, let Max rest a bit," your mom starts, but Max shakes his head.

"A promise is a promise," he says solemnly to Ruby. "Should we watch it now?"

Ruby squeals with delight, jumping up to get the remote. Your dad looks slightly disappointed that his racing talk is being cut short, but you can see him hiding a smile at Ruby's excitement.

"Fair warning," you whisper to Max as Ruby sets up the movie, "she knows every word. And she will sing along."

"As long as she doesn't expect me to sing," he whispers back.

"MAX!" Ruby calls, patting the spot next to her on the floor where she's arranged pillows. "You have to sit here! It's the best spot!"

Max obliges, settling down next to her while you stay on the couch, exchanging amused looks with your parents as Ruby starts the movie, already mouthing along to the opening music.

Your mom leans over to you. "I'm sorry we didn't believe you," she whispers. "He's lovely. And so good with Ruby."

"I told you," you whisper back, watching as Ruby explains to Max why Elsa has ice powers.

Your dad joins in the whispered conversation. "Think he'd sign my mug collection later?"

"Dad!"

"What? I'm just saying, Christmas cards would be sorted for the next few years…"

You're about to respond when Ruby shushes you all loudly. "This is the best part!"

Max catches your eye and winks, clearly enjoying himself despite being roped into a Disney movie viewing with a very enthusiastic seven-year-old commentator. Your heart swells watching him with your family, how naturally he fits in, how gentle he is with Ruby.

"Do you want to build a snowman?" Ruby starts singing along with the movie.

"Later, Rubes," you promise. "Let's watch the movie first."

She nods seriously, then turns to Max. "Pay attention to this part. It's very important."

"I won't miss a second," he promises, and Ruby beams at him before turning back to the screen.

Your mom reaches over and squeezes your hand, giving you a knowing look. Even your dad has stopped thinking about racing long enough to appreciate the moment – his youngest daughter sharing her favorite movie with your boyfriend, who happens to be the F1 driver he's been fan-boying over for years.

It's perfect, you think, watching your family and Max together. Different from how you imagined telling them, but perfect nonetheless.

"Shh!" Ruby whispers loudly. "Elsa is about to sing Let It Go!"

Max shoots you a slightly panicked look as Ruby starts to stand up, clearly ready to perform the whole number. You just grin and shrug. After all, you did warn him about the singing.

Later that evening, you finally manage to steal a moment alone with Max. Ruby had fallen asleep during the third replay of Frozen, and your parents took her up to bed before retreating to the kitchen to finish some Christmas preparations.

You find Max on the back porch, leaning against the railing and looking up at the stars. The winter air is crisp, and you can see his breath forming little clouds in the darkness. Quietly, you step out and wrap your arms around him from behind, pressing your cheek against his back.

"Hey," he says softly, turning in your arms to face you. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer. "Needed a little break from being Elsa?"

You laugh quietly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. "You were amazing with Ruby today. I think you're officially her new favorite person."

"She's a sweet kid," he smiles, then adds with a playful glint in his eyes, "Though I didn't expect to watch Frozen two times in one day."

"Just wait until tomorrow. She'll probably want to act it out."

He groans dramatically, but you can see the fondness in his expression. "The things I do for you."

"Mmm, and I appreciate every one of them," you murmur, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him softly.

Max responds immediately, one hand moving to cup your face while the other pulls you even closer. The kiss is gentle and unhurried, full of unspoken emotions. When you finally pull back, he rests his forehead against yours.

"Thank you," you whisper.

"For what?"

"For being so perfect with my family. For watching Frozen multiple times. For not running away when my dad started his racing commentary."

He chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest. "I like your family. Your dad's racing knowledge is impressive, your mom's trying very hard not to mother me to death, and Ruby…" he pauses, smiling. "Ruby reminds me of Victoria at that age."

You snuggle closer, seeking his warmth in the cold air. "I was so nervous about telling them, and then even more nervous when they didn't believe me. But this… this is better than I imagined."

"Even with your dad asking me to sign his entire Red Bull merchandise collection?"

"Hey, at least he waited until after dinner," you laugh. "Though I'm pretty sure he's in there right now planning which items to bring out first."

Max wraps his arms more securely around you, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I love you," he says quietly, and your heart skips a beat like it does every time he says those words.

"I love you too," you reply, tilting your face up for another kiss.

This one is deeper, more passionate, until you hear the back door creak and quickly step apart.

"Oh!" your mom exclaims, looking flustered. "Sorry, I just… wanted to ask about breakfast preferences… but it can wait… carry on!"

She disappears back inside, and you both burst into quiet laughter.

"We should probably go back in," you sigh, though you make no move to leave his embrace.

"Probably," he agrees, but instead of letting go, he pulls you back for one more kiss. "Five more minutes?"

You smile against his lips. "Five more minutes."

In the quiet of Christmas eve, wrapped in each other's arms, you can't help but think how perfectly he fits into your life, into your family, into your heart. Tomorrow there'll be more Frozen, more racing talk, more of Ruby's endless questions, but right now, it's just the two of you, and it's everything.

The winter sun is just beginning to peek through the curtains of your childhood bedroom, casting a soft golden glow across the room. You're wrapped in warmth, nestled against Max's chest with his arm draped around your waist. His steady breathing tells you he's awake before he even moves.

"Good morning," he murmurs against your neck, his voice still rough with sleep. His lips brush against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

"Morning," you whisper back, feeling his hand slowly slide beneath your sleep shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

"Sleep well?" he asks innocently, but his actions are anything but innocent as he presses closer, leaving a trail of kisses from your shoulder to your ear.

"Max," you breathe, caught between wanting to lean into his touch and knowing you should stop. "We can't… my parents…"

"Then we'll have to be very, very quiet," he whispers, nipping at your earlobe. His hand travels higher under your shirt, making your breath hitch.

You turn in his arms, ready to either give in or properly protest - though the way he's looking at you, eyes dark with desire and that signature smirk playing on his lips, makes you lean heavily toward the former.

"You're trouble," you murmur, reaching up to run your fingers through his disheveled hair.

He leans down to capture your lips in a heated kiss. "You love it."

Just as his hand starts to wander again, a voice pierces through the quiet morning:

"IT'S CHRISTMAAAAS!" Ruby's excited scream echoes through the entire house, followed by the thundering of small feet running down the hallway. "WAKE UP! WAKE UP! SANTA CAME!"

Max drops his forehead to your shoulder with a frustrated groan. "Your sister has impeccable timing."

"Welcome to Christmas with Ruby," you laugh, pressing a consoling kiss to his cheek. "I tried to warn you."

"YN! MAX!" Ruby's fists pound on your door. "GET UP! There are presents EVERYWHERE! And it SNOWED!"

"Five more minutes, Rubes!" you call back.

"NO MINUTES! NOW!" she insists, continuing to knock. "Mom said breakfast is ready and Dad made hot chocolate and I SAW A HUGE PRESENT WITH MY NAME ON IT!"

Max chuckles against your shoulder. "I suppose we should…"

"PLEASE!" Ruby calls again. "I promise I'll let you drink your coffee first!"

"That's quite the offer from her," you tell Max. "She usually doesn't allow any delays on Christmas morning."

"We're coming, Ruby!" Max calls out, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. "Give us two minutes to get dressed."

"TWO MINUTES! I'm counting!"

You can hear her dramatically counting down in the hallway, making Max laugh. "She's serious about this, isn't she?"

"Oh, you have no idea."

The living room is a festival of color and chaos when you finally make it downstairs. Ruby's bouncing by the tree in her Christmas pajamas, while your parents are settled on the couch with steaming mugs of coffee.

"Finally!" Ruby exclaims. "I counted way past two minutes!"

"Sorry, princess," Max says, accepting a coffee mug from your mom. "But I'm here now."

"Max, sweetheart, you really didn't have to get us anything," your mom says, noticing the pile of presents he'd arranged under the tree last night.

"Of course I did," he replies warmly. "It's Christmas."

Ruby's practically vibrating with excitement as your dad starts distributing gifts. "Can I open mine from Max first? Please?"

At your nod, she tears into the elaborate wrapping paper, gasping when she reveals a beautiful wooden chest with golden details. "It's like a treasure chest!"

"Open it," Max encourages, smiling.

Ruby lifts the lid carefully, her eyes widening. Inside is a complete collection of princess dresses, each one a perfect replica from different Disney movies, along with matching accessories and a tiara for each one.

"The chest is magical," Max explains, kneeling beside her. "Every time you open it, there might be a new surprise inside. And look at this…" He reaches in and pulls out a small envelope.

Ruby opens it to find a letter with the Disney castle letterhead. "Dear Princess Ruby," she reads aloud, her voice getting more excited with each word. "You are cordially invited to spend a royal weekend at Disney World, where you will have a private breakfast with all the Disney princesses…"

She doesn't even finish reading before launching herself at Max, nearly knocking him over. "Thank you thank you thank you! Can I try on the Elsa dress right now?"

"After presents," your mom laughs. "Let's see what else Santa brought."

Your dad opens his gift next, finding an envelope that makes him pause. "Son," he says, voice thick with emotion as he reads the contents. "This is…"

"VIP passes to the British Grand Prix," Max confirms. "Including garage access, grid walk, everything."

Your dad has to sit down, clutching the passes like they might disappear. "This is… I can't…"

"And this," Max hands him another package, "is just a little something extra."

Inside is a vintage racing jacket from your dad's favorite driver from the 80s, signed and authenticated. Your dad actually tears up.

Your mom opens her gift next, despite protesting again that Max shouldn't have gotten them anything. She unwraps a beautiful pair of earrings.

"Oh, Max," she whispers, "This is beautiful."

Ruby, who has been surprisingly patient, tugs at Max's sleeve. "Can we do my princess breakfast now?"

"After we finish presents," you laugh. "And maybe we should have real breakfast first?"

"But I'm a princess now," she declares. "Princesses have special breakfast times."

Your mom shakes her head fondly. "How about pancakes fit for a princess?"

"With chocolate chips?" Ruby negotiates.

"With chocolate chips," your mom confirms. "Max, honey, how do you like your pancakes?"

"However they're made is perfect," he assures her, but your mom is already heading to the kitchen, muttering about making sure she has enough chocolate chips.

Your dad finally finds his voice again. "Max, this is too much…"

"It's not," Max says firmly. "You're… you're family now. Or at least, I hope…"

He glances at you meaningfully, making your heart skip a beat.

Later, after pancakes and multiple princess dress changes from Ruby, you manage to steal some time alone with Max in your favorite spot on the back porch. The morning sun has warmed the air slightly, but there's still a crisp winter chill that gives you an excuse to stay close to him.

"Your turn," Max says softly, pulling out a small wrapped box from his pocket.

Your hands tremble slightly as you unwrap it, revealing a velvet jewelry box. Inside is a delicate silver necklace with two intertwined pendants - a heart and a tiny racing helmet.

"Max," you breathe, touching the pendants gently. "It's beautiful."

"Look at the back," he says quietly, his voice carrying a note of nervousness you rarely hear.

You turn the heart over to find an engraving: "You're my biggest victory. -MV"

"I love you," you whisper, pulling him down for a kiss. His arms wrap around you, holding you close as if you're the most precious thing in his world.

When you finally part, you hand him your gift - a wrapped box that makes him raise his eyebrows at the weight.

Inside, he finds a handmade scrapbook filled with your personal moments - sneaky paddock kisses, quiet mornings at home, victory celebrations, and candid moments no one else has seen. The final page holds a photo from yesterday - Max on the floor with Ruby, both laughing during their third viewing of Frozen.

"This is…" he starts, voice thick with emotion.

"Wait," you say softly, reaching into your pocket. You pull out a key on a simple keychain. "I thought… maybe… if you wanted…"

"Move in with you?" he finishes, breaking into that brilliant smile that never fails to make your heart race. "Yes. Absolutely yes."

He pulls you into another kiss, deeper this time, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other holds the key carefully.

"MAX!" Ruby's voice carries from inside. "I need help with my Cinderella shoes! And then we have to build a snowman! A FROZEN snowman!"

You both laugh against each other's lips.

"Duty calls, Elsa," you tease.

"Only if you'll be my Olaf," he grins, pressing one more quick kiss to your lips.

"Always," you promise, letting him lead you back inside where Ruby waits, already changed into her third princess dress of the morning.

Your dad catches your eye as you pass, "If you don't marry this boy," he whispers, "I will."

"Dad!"

"I'm just saying," he shrugs, then heads outside to join the snowman-building committee.

Your mom appears at your other side, wrapping an arm around you. "He's right, you know. He's perfect for you."

You lean your head on her shoulder, watching Max let Ruby direct him on where to place the snowman's arms. "I know," you smile. "I know."

"Best Christmas ever?" she asks softly.

Looking at your family, and Max in the middle of it all, belonging there like he's always been part of it - you smile.

"Best Christmas ever," you agree.

[hottiesforhockey]

dicked down december ⎜q.hughes

🎄pairings: quinn hughes x afab!reader 🎄genre: christmas special ⎜smut ⎜ established relationship⎜ 🎄warnings: dry humping ⎜ fingering ⎜ oral (f! and m! receiving) ⎜ thigh riding ⎜ hair pulling ⎜ doggy style ⎜ blindfold ⎜ shower sex ⎜vibrator use ⎜public sex ⎜ edging ⎜mentions of injury⎜ p in v ⎜ quinn is all about pleasing his girl ⎜pwp ⎜ unprotected sex ⎜ 🎄synopsis: after a rather anti climatic no nut november (on your part) - quinn wants to make it up to you with the twelve gifts of christmas. 🎄word count: 13.4k 🎄authors note:  this is part 2 to no nut november and was highly requested! this took a lot longer then expected to write so I'm really sorry for the delay - i hope everyone enjoys and Merry Christmas!! also I will be posting a small graphic at the bottom of how I fit in the twelve gifts of christmas.

(heavily unedited)

1st of December

“Fuck, Quinn.” You curse, your back arching as his warm hands run up your spine. You let out a long whine as his fingers dig deeper. 

“Baby, it’s just a massage calm down a little.” He chuckles, his knees planted on either side of your hips as his thumbs work on the knots in your back. 

His voice is warm and teasing, but you can hear the smile in it, and it makes your heart thrum. You shift slightly beneath him, the ache in your back melting away as his thumbs continue their work.

“Does it feel that good, or are you just desperate?” Quinn murmurs, leaning down so close his breath ghosts over the shell of your ear.

You huff, trying to ignore the heat pooling low in your stomach. “I didn’t agree with the  whole no-touching thing, remember? That was your idea.”

He hums, his hands pausing for a moment before he leans back up, kneading the tight spot between your shoulders with more purpose. “I know, baby. And I also know you’re really bad at being patient.”

“Maybe because you keep doing stuff like this,” you shoot back, craning your neck to look at him. His grin is maddening, smug and knowing, his dark hair falling into his eyes. He looks way too good for your sanity right now.

“Well,” he starts, his tone casual, “I guess it’s a good thing we’re officially done with all that now.”

You blink, his words catching you off guard. “Wait—”

Quinn sits back on his heels, sliding his hands down to your waist before flipping you onto your back in one smooth motion. The shift knocks the breath out of your lungs, and you can’t help the small gasp that escapes you.

“Gift one, baby,” he says, his voice lower now, tinged with something darker. His hands stay at your waist, his thumbs brushing against your bare skin. “The first of twelve. Think of it as an apology for making you wait so long.”

Your heart skips a beat, your body buzzing with anticipation as he leans down, his lips hovering just above yours. “Twelve gifts, huh?” you manage to say, your voice trembling just a little.

He grins, his lips finally brushing against yours in the faintest whisper of a kiss. “Twelve gifts to make it up to you—and then some.”

You barely have time to respond before his lips press firmly against yours, the kiss slow and deliberate, like he’s savouring every second. His hands trail up from your waist, skimming your sides until they settle just beneath your ribs. His thumbs stroke the sensitive skin there, sending shivers racing through you.

"Quinn," you breathe against his lips, your fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer. He hums in response, deep and satisfied, as if hearing his name like that was exactly what he wanted.

The heat between you builds quickly, each touch, each kiss stoking the fire that had been simmering for far too long. He breaks away just enough to let his forehead rest against yours, his breath coming in soft pants that mirror your own.

“I’ve got big plans for you, you know,” he murmurs, his voice teasing but roughened with desire.

“Oh, yeah?” you reply, tilting your head to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “This your way of saying you’re gonna spend the next month making me regret not jumping you last month?”

“Every few days, like an advent calendar” He corrects, “Can’t have you quitting on me.” His laugh is low and warm, the sound sending a fresh wave of heat straight through you. “Baby, the only thing you’re gonna regret is not asking for thirteen.”

Before you can respond, his lips are on yours again, more insistent this time. His hands roam your body with purpose, his touch igniting every nerve. It’s not rushed, though. No, Quinn is taking his time, making sure every kiss, every brush of his fingers is deliberate, like he’s mapping every inch of you.

As his hands drift lower, his mouth leaves yours to trail kisses down your jaw, then to your neck, where he nips lightly at the sensitive skin just below your ear. You gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders as your body arches into him.

���God, I missed this,” he whispers against your skin, his voice thick with need.

“Then stop teasing me,” you shoot back, your own voice breathy and uneven.

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and filled with mischief. “Oh, baby, we’re just getting started. Gift one, remember?”

The promise in his words sends a thrill through you, and as his lips find yours again, you realise you might not survive twelve days of this. But if this is how Quinn plans to make up for lost time, you’re more than willing to let him try.

+

+

3rd of December

“Quinn this really doesn’t seem appropriate.” You hiss, smacking at his hand riding higher up your thigh. You watch with a smile as Quinn’s parents flitter around you house, the two of them pointing out each of the small decorations around the room. 

"Appropriate?" Quinn whispers, his voice low and teasing as his fingers continue their slow, deliberate ascent.

"Baby, you were the one who insisted on sitting next to me. What did you expect?" You glare at him, trying to keep your expression neutral as his parents continue their animated conversation across the room.

 “I expected you to behave,” you mutter, swatting his hand again, though it doesn’t seem to deter him in the slightest. “I did not think public nudity was this high on your list.” 

“Oh, we’re saving that for gift twelve.” He leans in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I am behaving. You should be thanking me for my restraint right now.”

Your cheeks flush at his words, and you quickly glance toward his parents to ensure they haven’t noticed anything. His mom is holding up a snow globe, admiring it with a fond smile, while his dad adjusts one of the stockings hanging on the mantle. Blissfully unaware.

“Quinn,” you warn in a low voice, but it only makes his grin widen. The mischievous glint in his eye is unmistakable, and you know he’s enjoying this far too much.

“What? I’m just helping you get into the holiday spirit,” he replies innocently, though the way his fingers are now tracing slow circles on your thigh suggests otherwise. You reach under the table and grab his wrist, giving it a firm squeeze.

 “If you don’t stop, your parents are going to see. Do you really want them to catch you acting like this?”

He chuckles softly, leaning back in his chair like he’s completely unbothered. “Relax, baby. They’re too busy with their little Christmas tour to notice anything.”

You narrow your eyes at him but don’t have a chance to respond before his mom’s voice cuts through the room.

“This place looks so festive!” she exclaims, turning toward you with a warm smile. “You two really went all out with the decorations.”

Quinn flashes her his most charming smile, his hand finally retreating from your thigh to rest on the table. “All her doing, Mum. She’s got a knack for this kind of thing.”

You shoot him a look, trying to mask your relief. “It was a joint effort,” you say modestly, though your tone is a little tighter than usual. “Quinn helped me pick out the tree.”

His dad nods approvingly. “Well, it looks great. Reminds me of our first Christmas together, doesn’t it, hon?” He glances at Quinn’s mom, who immediately launches into a story about their early days of marriage.

As they reminisce, you feel Quinn’s hand slide back onto your thigh under the table, and you barely manage to suppress a groan. He gives your leg a gentle squeeze, his expression perfectly innocent as he listens to his parents. His fingers just grazing the edge of your underwear. 

“Quinn,” you whisper sharply, your tone laced with both exasperation and a hint of amusement.

He leans toward you again, his lips quirking up in a small, knowing smile. “Dad, didn’t you say you had that dinner with your old college friends to get to?” His dad perks up at the reminder, glancing to at his watch in surprise before looking over at his wife who nods in acknowledgement, collect her purse from the floor besides the table. 

“The house is looking lovely, thank you for helping my Quinn get his stuff in order.” Ellen says softly as she pulls you in for a hug, her hand patting your head gently as she pulls away with a warm smile. You give her a soft nod and a quiet ‘it’s nothing, really.’ Before walking the parents to the door, bidding them a quick farewell as Quinn closes the door from besides you, his hand pushing the hair off the back of your neck as he leans forwards and presses a soft kiss to your neck. 

“Do you actually have a list of what you’re doing?” You question as he loops his arms arounds your waist pulling you backwards towards the bedroom, his lips spreading into a smile against your skin. 

“No.” He admits, a sigh of relief escaping you as he adds, “It’s an excel spreadsheet.” 

You groan, half in exasperation, half in laughter, as Quinn tightens his hold around your waist, nudging you gently down the hall. His breath is warm against your neck, and the smug grin in his voice is unmistakable.

“An Excel spreadsheet, Quinn? Seriously?”

“What can I say? I like to stay organised.” His tone is casual, but the way his hands slide under the hem of your sweater is anything but. You swat at his wandering fingers again, though with far less conviction this time.

 “Organised is colour-coding the Christmas bins, not...whatever this is.”

“Baby,” he murmurs, steering you into the bedroom, “this is next-level holiday cheer. You should appreciate my dedication.” You roll your eyes but can’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips. 

“If I open that spreadsheet and see formulas, I’m leaving.”

“Too late now,” he teases, spinning you around and pressing you gently back onto the bed. “You’re already committed to the program.” Your retort dies on your lips as Quinn leans down, his hands bracketing your hips, his face inches from yours. The mischievous sparkle in his eyes has softened, replaced by something warmer, more intimate.

“Quinn,” you start, your voice quieter now, less teasing. “What are you up to?”

“Just making sure we keep the spirit of the season alive,” he replies, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His lips ghost over yours, not quite kissing, just close enough to make your breath hitch. “ gift three should be a proper celebration, don’t you think?”

“Does it involve a pivot table?” you manage to ask, your voice shaky with barely contained laughter. He grins, his mouth finally claiming yours in a kiss that wipes away any further attempts at sarcasm. “No spreadsheets tonight,” he whispers against your lips. “Promise.”

You sigh dramatically as he pulls you closer, his weight warm and comforting. “I guess I can make an exception. But if I find a ‘Day 12’ PowerPoint presentation, we’re having a serious talk.”

Quinn chuckles, his laughter vibrating through your chest as he trails kisses along your jaw. “Noted. Now stop stalling. We’ve got a new holiday tradition to uphold.” Quinn’s lips catch yours again, his hands moving up to brace against either side of your head, his body slotting between your legs as he presses his hips to yours. 

“You better make this worth my while.” You say quickly, his hips pushing against yours at an agonising pace, his lips making their way down your jaw till the find the pulse point on your neck, sucking harshly against the skin. 

“It’ll be worth it.” He agrees, his hips speeding up their movements against yours, your skirt riding up to sit against your waist - the zipper of his jeans pressing deliciously against your clit as he thrusts, “But today is not that day.” He groans as he puts away, a soft wet patch on the front of his jeans, your legs falling open against the bed as you let out a long sigh. 

“This fucking edging is going to kill me.” You hiss, watching as Quinn lets out a maniacal laugh. 

“That’s wasn’t on the list.” He says quickly. 

“Oh my god, you actually have a spreadsheet, don’t you?” You groan in disbelief. 

“You don’t even know the extent I’ve gone to.” He says quickly, “We’ve barely even gotten started.” 

+

+

6th of December

You’re elbow-deep in a mixing bowl, trying to salvage the dough that Quinn somehow managed to over-flour, when he appears behind you, his arms looping lazily around your waist.

“Smells good in here,” he murmurs, nuzzling into the curve of your neck. His voice is warm, and the gentle pressure of his lips against your skin sends a shiver down your spine.

“I’m starting to get a trauma response every time you sneak up behind me.” You scold, throwing a playful glare over your shoulder. Quinn just smiles before asking, “What’re you making?” 

“It’s cookies,” you reply, trying to sound unimpressed even as your pulse quickens. “Not exactly groundbreaking.”

“Yeah, but you’re the one making them,” he counters smoothly, his hands slipping beneath your apron to rest on your hips.

“Flattery will not save you,” you warn, squirming slightly as his fingers start to knead into your sides. “You’re still on dough-duty.”

“Hmm, dough-duty,” Quinn muses, his tone teasing as he presses himself a little closer, his body warm against yours. “Sounds like you’re just trying to keep me distracted.”

You roll your eyes, ignoring the way your heart is pounding as you flick a bit of flour over your shoulder in his direction. “Distracted? You’re the one whos turning my kitchen into a war zone.”

Quinn laughs, dodging the flour with ease. “Okay, fair. But you’re not exactly playing fair either, baby. You know this apron does things to me.”

You glance down at the plain, slightly flour-dusted apron and raise an eyebrow. “It’s literally the least sexy thing I own.”

“Speak for yourself,” he replies, his hands sliding lower until they rest dangerously close to the curve of your backside. “I’m a simple man with simple tastes.”

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, trying to focus on rolling the dough out onto the counter. But the moment his lips press a soft kiss just behind your ear, your hands falter.

“Quinn, I swear—”

“Swear what?” he interrupts, his voice dropping into that low, teasing tone that always makes your knees weak. “You gonna stop me?”

You inhale sharply, turning your head to glare at him. But the smug grin on his face only makes your resolve crumble. “Yes,” you say, though it comes out far less convincing than you’d hoped.

“Oh, yeah?” He leans in, his breath hot against your ear. “You sure about that?”

Before you can respond, his hands slide up your sides, his fingers grazing just beneath the edge of your sweater. You let out a soft gasp, the rolling pin slipping from your fingers and clattering onto the counter.

“Quinn,” you hiss, your tone a mix of exasperation and barely contained laughter. “I’m trying to bake here.”

“And I’m trying to make sure you stay properly motivated,” he counters, his grin widening as his hands trail back down, this time tugging lightly at the hem of your apron.

Your retort dies on your lips as he spins you around, pinning you gently against the counter. His hands plant themselves on either side of you, effectively trapping you in place as he leans in, his nose brushing against yours.

“Five days in,” he murmurs, his voice low and dripping with mischief. “Think you can handle seven more of this?”

Your breath catches, the air between you crackling with tension. “I’m starting to think I won’t survive.”

Quinn’s grin turns wicked, his lips ghosting over yours in the faintest of kisses. “Good,” he whispers, his hands sliding to your waist and pulling you flush against him. “Because I’ve got plans for you, baby. Big ones.”

Your heart races as he tilts his head, his mouth finally claiming yours in a kiss that’s slow and deliberate, leaving you breathless. Just as you’re about to lose yourself in the moment, he pulls back, his eyes sparkling with playful mischief.

“Now,” he says, stepping back and grabbing the rolling pin off the counter like he hadn’t just rendered you a breathless, flustered mess. “How about I actually help with these cookies?”

You gape at him, your body still buzzing from his touch as he starts flattening the dough with a look of pure innocence.

“You’re evil,” you mutter, crossing your arms as you try to collect yourself.

“And yet,” he says, flashing you a grin, “you keep letting me in the kitchen.” He continues to tease, spinning you back around to face the counter,  his hand dipping into the waist band of your pyjama pants, his fingers toying with the trim of your underwear before dipping beneath those too. 

“God, the surprising seems to be working.” He snorts, his fingers dipping between your folds, your knees almost buckling beneath you as his free hand splays against your stomach to hold your upright. “You’re soaking, baby.” You can hear the smile on his lips, his finger slipping up and down between your folds, the slick sound starting to feel the air. 

“Quinn, I swear to god if you don’t let me finish, I will turn you into a cookie.” You hiss, your hands stopping their motions to brace against the counter, your head falling forwards as he dips a tentative finger inside of you. 

“As long as you’re the one eating me up.” Quinn retorts, a second finger joining the first as he pumps in and out, your hands digging as far into the counter as they can, Quinn’s hand the only thing keeping you steady as his speeds up his movements, the wet sounds of his fingers filling the almost silent room. 

“Fuck, Quinn.” You hiss, your lips digging into your bottom lip as you throw your head back — “I’m so fucking close.” You feel his fingers start to slow as you clench around him. 

“You better keep fucking going.” You snarl, your hips thrusting forwards against his fingers, “I’m not kidding Quinn.” Quinn lets out another laugh before his fingers speed up again, your orgasm hitting you like a train after his last two attempts at teasing you. 

“I fucking hate you so much sometimes.” You pant, as you leans against the counter, watching as Quinn pulls his fingers from your pants, dipping them into his mouth. 

“Your cookie tastes great, baby.” 

+

+

9thth of December

The living room glows with the soft twinkle of Christmas lights, their reflection dancing in the windows against the dark December evening. You and Quinn are cocooned on the couch, sharing a thick blanket. Empty mugs of hot chocolate sit abandoned on the coffee table, remnants of marshmallows clinging to the rims. On the TV, Elf is mid-chaos, Buddy the Elf wreaking sugary havoc in a department store.

Quinn shifts closer, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders. “Why is it colder in here than outside?”

You shoot him a sidelong glance. “Because someone said turning on the heat ‘dulls the spirit of winter.’”

“I didn’t think I’d need a survival kit to get through it,” he mutters, his socked feet nudging against yours under the blanket.

“You’re the one who insists on authenticity,” you remind him, but you pull the blanket up higher, offering him a grudging sliver of extra warmth.

Quinn doesn’t stop there, though. His arm snakes around your shoulders, and before you can protest, he tugs you closer until your head rests against his chest.

“Really?” you ask, your voice dry as you tilt your head to look up at him.

“What? I’m freezing,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Besides, this is festive. Snuggling and all that.”

Your eyes narrow, but you don’t pull away. “Convenient excuse.”

“Maybe,” he admits, his grin widening. His other hand sneaks beneath the blanket, resting casually on your thigh, the warmth of his palm sinking through your leggings. The movie continues, but you’re barely paying attention now. Quinn’s thumb brushes idly against your leg, a small, repetitive motion that’s impossible to ignore. You shift slightly, but it only makes his grip more deliberate.

“Comfortable?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Very,” he replies, his voice dropping into something softer, more suggestive. “Why? Aren’t you?” You can feel the tension in the air shift. 

“Depends,” you say, keeping your tone neutral as you look back at the screen. “Are you planning to stay glued to my side all night?”

Quinn leans closer, his breath brushing against your ear. “Maybe. Is that a problem?” Your stomach twists, a mixture of annoyance and something harder to admit. You keep your eyes on the TV, but your body betrays you, leaning just slightly into his warmth.

“Only if you start stealing my share of the blanket,” you reply, injecting your voice with faux annoyance to mask the way your pulse has quickened.

Quinn chuckles softly, his lips grazing the edge of your temple in a way that feels far more deliberate than casual.

“Deal.”

For a moment, the only sound is Buddy the Elf shouting about Christmas spirit, but the tension between you lingers, humming beneath the surface.

When Quinn finally speaks, his tone is lighter, teasing, but the undercurrent is still there. “You know, I’d make a great elf. Probably even better than Buddy.”

You snort, grateful for the shift. “That’s bold. I’m not sure you’re up for the sugar diet.”

“I’d find a way to make it work,” he replies, his grin mischievous. “And I know I look good in tights.”

You roll your eyes, shoving at his shoulder lightly. “Delusional.”

“Maybe,” he concedes, his hand giving your thigh a playful squeeze before he withdraws it, much to your mixed relief and disappointment. “But you’d love it anyway.” Your laugh is softer now, the tension between the two of you growing as Quinn makes no moves to take anything further. 

“Quinn, what’s on your spreadsheet for gift three?” You ask curiously as you watch Buddy the Elf and his brother in a snowball fight. 

“Why?” Quinn questions back, a knowing smile growing on his face as he fingers continue their soft stroking against your legs, “You anticipating something?” You shoot him a quick glare before settling back against the couch your arms crossed tightly over your chest.

“Not anymore.” You mumble to yourself, Quinn raising his brow in surprise at your snark, smiling over at your one more time before he dips under the large blanket, sliding off the couch as to the floor in from of you. You shiver as Quinn’s breath ghosts over the damp patch on your panties, the contrast of his warm touch against the cool air setting your skin ablaze. The blanket overhead forms a cocoon, insulating the two of you from the rest of the world, but all you can focus on is the way his hands roam your thighs, spreading you open with a confidence that steals your breath.

“What are you doing?” you ask, though your voice comes out softer than intended, betraying the cocktail of anticipation and arousal coursing through you.

“Gift three,” Quinn replies, his voice muffled but laced with that familiar teasing edge. His fingers slide slowly up the curve of your legs, brushing over your hips as he pushes your nightgown higher, exposing more of your skin to his exploration. You try to maintain some semblance of composure, but the sensation of his touch is magnetic, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

When his fingers hook under the waistband of your panties, dragging them down inch by excruciating inch, you can’t stop the gasp that escapes you. The cool air hits your now-bared skin, a stark reminder of just how exposed you are. Quinn shifts, guiding your legs further apart as he kisses a slow path along the inside of your thigh, his lips soft and deliberate, each touch igniting sparks under your skin.

“Quinn,” you murmur, your voice a mix of exasperation and need. “You can’t just—”

“Can’t what?” he interrupts, his words brushing hot against your skin. “Show my girlfriend a little Christmas cheer?” There’s a hint of a smirk in his tone, but any retort you might have planned dies on your lips when his mouth finally meets you, his tongue making a slow, deliberate stroke that has your head tipping back against the couch.

Your fingers clutch at the blanket above him, seeking something to anchor you as he works. His tongue moves in practiced motions, alternating between firm, focused pressure and lighter, teasing flicks that leave you trembling. His hands remain on your thighs, holding you open with a firm yet gentle grip, grounding you as he explores every inch of you with a devotion that has your chest heaving.

“Oh my God,” you breathe, your hips lifting instinctively to meet his mouth. Quinn hums against you in response, the vibration sending shockwaves through your body. He takes his time, savouring every reaction he pulls from you, his movements both methodical and maddeningly sensual.

“Gift three,” he murmurs between strokes, his breath warm against your most sensitive skin, “is definitely shaping up to be my favourite.

You can’t hold back the soft moan that slips free, your fingers diving under the blanket to thread into his hair, urging him closer. He responds with a chuckle, the sound low and confident, before redoubling his efforts. His tongue moves in perfect rhythm, circling and stroking in ways that leave you teetering on the edge, every nerve in your body strung tight. “Keep watching the movie, baby.” He coos.

Your breathing grows ragged as the tension in your core builds, your legs trembling against his shoulders. “Quinn,” you gasp, his name a plea as the pleasure becomes too much to bear. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even falter, his mouth working you through every moment until the world splinters apart. You cry out, your body arching as waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you shuddering and breathless. Quinn stays with you, his hands stroking your thighs in a soothing rhythm as he presses a final, reverent kiss against your skin.

When he finally emerges from beneath the blanket, his hair is deliciously tousled, his lips glistening with evidence of his handiwork. That signature smirk is firmly in place as he climbs back onto the couch beside you, pulling you into his arms as if nothing unusual had happened.

“You’re ridiculous,” you murmur, your voice soft and shaky as you bury your face against his chest, the warmth of his body grounding you.

“And yet,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple, “you’re the one who puts up with  me.” You huff out a breathless laugh, your cheeks still burning as the festive chaos of Elf continues to play in the background, the two of you breathing a little harder as you turn towards him. 

“So is that it? You just eat me out and then we pretend like nothing happened?” You question, your brows furrowing as you lift your hand to swipe the moisture of your boyfriend’s mouth. 

“Yep.” He just smiles, leaning forwards to take your wet fingers into his mouth, sucking them off with a pop before leaning forwards to press a kiss against your cheek. “Don’t worry too much, gift four is going to be for both of us.” 

+

+

12th of December

The morning arrives with a soft dusting of snow blanketing the world outside, the frost glinting like powdered sugar on the windowpanes. Inside, the warmth of the living room is a stark contrast to the chill, the faint smell of pine from the Christmas tree mingling with the remnants of coffee and toasted bagels. Quinn stands at the kitchen counter, his hair still a little messy from sleep, as he fiddles with his phone.

"You’re on that thing again?" you tease from your spot on the couch, bundled up in an oversized sweater and fuzzy socks. "Plotting world domination or just reorganising your already over-planned spreadsheet?"

Quinn glances up, grinning that lopsided grin that always gets to you. "Neither. Just checking off ‘make girlfriend coffee’ from Day Nine’s list." He sets the phone down and gestures toward the steaming mug on the side table next to you. “I have to do some readjusting to make up for the road trips coming up.” He explains with a smile. 

You roll your eyes, though your lips twitch upward. "Convenient. What's next? Snow angels in the yard?"

"Not quite," he says, crossing the room with a deliberate saunter that makes your heart stutter. “Gift four is a bit more… hands-on."

You arch a brow, setting your mug down as he stops in front of you, his grin widening. "Hands-on how?"

Quinn doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reaches out, his fingers threading through your hair in a way that feels casual yet charged with unspoken intent. He gives a gentle tug, tilting your face up toward his, and your breath catches.

"Something like this," he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave as his thumb brushes against your jawline.

Your pulse quickens as the air between you grows thick with tension. "You’ve been watching too many rom-coms," you quip, though your voice wavers slightly.

"Maybe," he admits, his grin softening but his hold on your hair remaining firm. "But I don’t think Hugh Grant ever did this."

Before you can retort, Quinn leans down, his lips hovering just above yours. The moment stretches, electric and teasing, until he finally closes the distance. His kiss is slow but insistent, the kind that leaves you breathless and clutching at his shirt to stay anchored.

When he pulls back, he tugs on your hair just enough to make your head tilt back further, exposing the curve of your neck. “Gift four,” he says softly, his lips brushing against your skin, "is going to be hard and fast.”

Your laugh is shaky, a mix of nervousness and anticipation. "Is that your way of saying I should be worried?"

Quinn chuckles, his breath warm against your collarbone. "Not worried. Excited."

Quinn’s lips curl into a teasing smile as he pulls back, his fingers still gently wrapped around a strand of your hair. You feel a spark of both irritation and excitement at the way he’s controlling the moment, making it feel like time is stretching just for the two of you. His grin never falters as he studies your face, waiting for your reaction.

"Excited, huh?" he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "I guess you’ll find out soon enough."

You swallow, feeling the heat crawl up your neck. There's something about the way he's looking at you—like he's already imagining every moment ahead.

"You’re insufferable," you retort, trying to sound more confident than you feel. "You can’t just drag me into this with vague promises."

Quinn chuckles softly, but there’s an edge to it. He’s enjoying the control, the way you’re practically trembling under his gaze.

"Oh, I think I can," he replies smoothly. "Because when it’s number four, the rules are a little different." He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he stands up, extending a hand toward you with a look that is half challenge, half invitation.

"Come on," he says, his voice dropping just a little. "Let’s take this somewhere a little more... private." Your heart skips a beat, the mix of nerves and curiosity making your pulse race. You hesitate for a moment, but then the sight of his unrelenting grin has you pushing off the couch, your hand slipping into his. He leads you through the kitchen, his fingers intertwined with yours, the tension palpable with each step. The rest of the world seems to fade, leaving only the soft sounds of your breathing and the weight of Quinn’s touch. As you reach the bedroom door, he pauses. His thumb brushes over the back of your hand, sending a shiver up your spine. He looks at you, his eyes searching yours for a moment, as if checking that you’re ready.

"Are you sure you want to keep going?" he asks softly, but there’s no mistaking the way his words hold an edge of amusement.mYou swallow, fighting the urge to back down. There’s something magnetic about him right now, something about the way he’s drawing you in with such ease, making you feel like you’re walking toward something inevitable.

"Just get in here already," you snap, the teasing now on your lips. Quinn’s smile deepens, and with one smooth motion, he pulls the door open, guiding you inside. The quiet of the room feels charged, as though the moment itself is holding its breath, waiting for what comes next. The door clicks shut behind you, the sound echoing in the stillness of the room. You turn, but before you can say anything else, Quinn is right there—close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him. His hands find your waist, pulling you toward him with a force that makes your breath catch.

You look up at him, your heart pounding as you meet his eyes—dark and intent, full of a desire that makes the air between you feel thick and heavy.

“You wanted to know what your gift is all about,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, barely above a whisper. Before you can respond, he’s kissing you, his lips crashing against yours with a desperate hunger that takes you completely by surprise. There’s no teasing this time, no games. Just the raw, urgent need that’s been simmering between you both.

His hands roam, one settling at the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair as he pulls you even closer. You feel the firm press of his body against yours, the solid warmth of him that makes it impossible to think straight. Your back meets the wall with a soft thud, but Quinn doesn’t stop—his lips moving over yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless, your hands instinctively gripping at his shirt.

You tilt your head back, gasping for air as his mouth moves down to your neck, his kisses hot and urgent, like he can’t get enough. His free hand traces the curve of your body, his touch leaving trails of fire wherever it lands. It’s almost too much, but you don’t want it to stop.

“Quinn...” you breathe, the name slipping from your lips in a mix of desire and need. He groans softly at the sound of your voice, his teeth grazing your skin as he leaves another trail of kisses along your collarbone. His hand moves lower, finding the hem of your sweater, pushing it up slowly, deliberately, as if giving you time to pull away, but you don’t. You stay frozen, your heart racing as the tension between you grows thicker.

His lips find yours again in a desperate, needy kiss, as if he’s finally giving in to something he’s been holding back. There’s no softness now—only the heat of the moment, the weight of everything you’ve both been holding back crashing into the space between you. His body presses you harder into the wall, the raw intensity of the kiss leaving you breathless and craving more.

“You’re so damn distracting,” Quinn murmurs against your lips, his voice rough with barely restrained hunger.

“You started it,” you manage, a teasing note in your voice despite the pounding of your heart. He chuckles darkly, the sound vibrating through you, before his lips find yours again, hungry and fierce. There’s no space between you now, no thoughts beyond the electric pull between you.  

“I need you as wet as possible.” Quinn murmurs against your, his hips pressing against yours as you try to grind against him wanting any relief you can find. “I want to be able to slip in easily.” His words are hot against your skin as he reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a soft strip of black fabric. 

“I was going to save this for gift five but I think we can push it forwards a little.” Quinn says quietly as he steps away from you, your throat bobbing at the sight of the blindfold “Do you want it?” He asks an eyebrow raised as he watches you glance between him and the blindfold, you nod slowly Quinn breaking out in a broad smile. “Get on the bed then.” He says quickly, your oversized shirt swaying against your thighs as you shuffle over to the bed, perching on the edge. 

“Hands and knees, baby.” He corrects, your head just nodding as you climb further onto the bed, settling into the position. Quinn slips behind you, reaching over to pull the blindfold across your eyes. You let out a stuttered breath as your eyesight is taken from you, your fingers gripping the bedsheet beneath you. 

“Do you think you’re wet for me?” He asks softly, your head nodding as your words escape you. “How wet?” He questions. 

“Dripping.” You respond, your teeth clamping down on your bottom lip as you feel Quinn hands slide up your sides, dragging your t-shirt up and over your ass, exposing your definitely damp underwear to him, your back arching slightly as his warm palms dig into your sides. 

“I think you’re ready.” He agrees, his hands smoothing back over your ass before roughly ripping your underwear, ripping them down your legs till they sit at your knees, your bare ass and pussy exposed to him. “Perfect.” You hear him mumble as you hear further ruffling of fabric, and the sound of plastic being ripped open. “Tell me if you’re getting overwhelmed.” He whispers, one hand rubbing up and down your spine as you feel his cock poke against your entrance, sliding through your wetness a few times, a soft groan leaving you as he slides inside. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He groans, both of his hands digging into your hips as he pulls out and pumps back in, his movements slow and precise. “I’ve missed being inside of you.” He adds, your body shivering as his speed increases slightly. 

“Me too.” You hum, your teeth gritting as you feel one of Quinns hands leave you hips, the fingers just barely grazing up your back before the fiddle with the ends of your hair. 

“Am I not pleasing you enough, princess?” Quinn asks, his hand grabbing a chunk of your hair, wrenching your head back, as he leans over your body, his hips pausing in the movements, bottomed out inside of you. “Say it again.” He grumbles, littering soft kisses against your neck as he waits. 

Dominant Quinn was never something you were used to. Your boyfriend usually preferring to keep your intimate moments soft and gentle - apart from the occasional angry fuck. “I said I miss you being inside of me.” You repeat with a little more conviction, “It feels so good.” You add quickly, seeming to please Quinn as he pulls himself back into a standing position his hips slamming into you at a furious pace as he wraps your hair around his hand, keeping a tight hold as your arms collapse out from under you, soft whimpers leaving you as his free hand wraps around gently rubbing against your clit, your pussy clenching around him desperately as you ride out your high. 

Quinn comes soon after, his body falling on top of yours as he whispers soft praise in you ear, pressing kisses against your hair before pulling out and discarding the condom. “I’ll only be gone for a few days and then the twelves days of christmas will be back.” Quinn jokes, pulling your shirt back down over your hips as you roll to face him, a light smile on your face. 

“That’s not what I’m going to miss.” You coo, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before sliding off the mattress, retrieving your underwear from the floor, “But maybe one more round before you have to go?” You tease, Quinn wasting no time in leaping off the mattress. 

+

+

17th of December

“Yeah I’m on the way to the arena now to pick you up.” You say into your speaker - the phone currently connected to your car’s bluetooth - Quinn’s voice carrying through. 

“Okay they said the bus should be there in about thirty minutes.” Quinn says with a long sigh - the Canucks had lost their game earlier today and to say Quinn was disappointed was an understatement. “So, mr spreadsheet do we have anything on our agenda for tonight?” You say quickly, trying to switch the attention to something other then the loss they had earlier in the night. You clock said it was around 2am in the morning as tired as you were you knew Quinn would be ten times more exhausted. 

“I did have plans but the high stick might change somethings.” Quinn huffs, his words mumbled more than usual. 

“Quinn we don’t need your mouth to have fun.” You coo, as you can almost see the smile spreading across his face as he lets out a soft chuckle followed by a sharp hiss. “How bad is it?” You ask next, you had watched the game and has seen the blood splattering on the ice after Quinn’s high stick to the face - he had been messaging you from the locker room while they stitched him up, telling you not to worry but the furious expression on his face when he returned to the game was enough to tell you that it hurt. 

“I have to go, coach is about to give us a speech.” Quinn chuckles lowly into the phone, and you promise you’ll be waiting once the bus arrives at the arena. The two of you hang up, your car beginning to play your music again as you make the short drive to the arena, parking in the underground lot where the bus usually dropped them off after a road trip - scrolling through your phone as you wait for your boyfriends arrival. 

It wasn’t long before the bus pulled into the lot, its tires hissing against the pavement. You glanced up from your phone just as the doors opened and the team began filing out. A few players waved at you as they passed, murmuring tired goodnights. Then, finally, you spotted Quinn.

He moved slower than usual, his bag slung over one shoulder, his other hand tucked into the pocket of his jacket. His head was down, the brim of his hat shadowing his face. As he approached the car, you got out to meet him, your heart squeezing when you caught a glimpse of his swollen, stitched-up lip.

“Hey,” you said softly, trying to keep your tone light. “How’s my favourite spreadsheet nerd?” Quinn’s gaze flicked up to meet yours briefly before darting away. 

“Still in one piece,” he muttered, his voice quiet and a little raspy. You reached out to take his bag, and he hesitated before letting you, his fingers brushing yours for a moment. He stood there awkwardly, his shoulders hunched slightly, as though he were trying to make himself smaller.

“Quinn,” you said gently, stepping closer. He looked up at you fully then, and the vulnerability in his expression nearly broke you. “Let me see.”

“It’s fine,” he mumbled, tugging his hat lower.

“Quinn,” you repeated, a little firmer this time. You raised a hand to his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly against his skin. He stiffened at first but didn’t pull away. “Please?” He sighed, a quiet, resigned sound, and let you tilt his face toward the faint glow of the overhead lights. Your heart clenched at the sight of the angry red stitches running along his top lip.

“Oh, babe,” you murmured, your voice soft and full of concern. “Does it hurt?”

“It’s not that bad,” he said, but the way his eyes shifted told you otherwise.

“You don’t have to play tough with me,” you said, your thumb now tracing the line of his jaw. “You’re allowed to say it hurts.”

Quinn’s ears turned a little pink, and he ducked his head, clearly embarrassed. “It’s just...ugly,” he muttered. “You don’t need to look at it.”

Your heart melted at his words. “Quinn Hughes,” you said, stepping even closer, “you could be missing a tooth and have a black eye, and you’d still be the most handsome guy I’ve ever seen.”

A small, reluctant smile tugged at his good side of his mouth. “You’re just saying that.”

“I mean it,” you insisted, your hand moving to his hair, your fingers brushing softly through the strands. “But we can clean you up when we get home. Deal?” Quinn finally met your eyes again, and though he still looked a little self-conscious, there was a warmth there that made your chest feel light. “Deal,” he said quietly.

You smiled, leaning up to press a feather-light kiss to his temple, careful not to jostle him. “Come on, let’s get you home.” The drive home is almost silent, Quinn sitting in the passenger seat, his head pressed against the cool window, his hand gripping yours as the radio sings soft christmas carols, the snow falling outside the car. 

“So what was going to be your plan for gift eight?” You ask, your fingers squeezing against Quinns as you pull the car into your parking spot - the two of you releasing each other to slide out of the car and make your way to the elevator. 

“Nothing I could partake in tonight anyway.” Quinn sulks, his hand finding yours again. 

“You’re right, maybe you’re better off not participating in anything at the moment.” You laugh and Quinn huffs a quiet laugh, the sound a little muffled by his injury. “You’re right. Probably not my smartest move.”

The elevator dings, and you both step out, heading toward your apartment door. Once inside, the warmth of the space envelops you, chasing away the lingering chill from outside. Quinn sets his bag down by the door, his movements slow and deliberate, and you can see the exhaustion settling over him like a heavy blanket.

“Go have a shower, I’ll pack up your stuff.” You say quietly, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek before pushing him towards the bathroom. “I’ve got it.” You reassure him.

Quinn hesitated for a moment, glancing over his shoulder at you as he made his way toward the bathroom. "You sure you don’t mind?"

"Of course not," you replied with a soft smile. "Go on, I’ll be right here when you’re done."

As the sound of water began echoing through the apartment, you busied yourself tidying up the small messes Quinn had left in his usual spots—his sneakers haphazardly kicked off near the door, his coat draped over the back of the couch. You stacked his belongings neatly and set out a fresh pair of sweats and one of his soft hoodies on the bed. But as you finished, the quiet worry bubbling in your chest drew you toward the bathroom.

The steam wafting out from under the door carried the faint scent of Quinn’s body wash, and you knocked softly.

“Baby?”

"Yeah?" His voice was a little clearer now, though still tired.

"You doing okay in there?"

There was a pause before he answered. "Yeah, I’m good." But you knew him better than that.

Without waiting for an invitation, you pushed the door open a crack. The warmth of the bathroom enveloped you, the mirror fogged, and the sound of water pattering against the tile filled the air. Through the frosted glass, you could make out Quinn’s silhouette, his shoulders hunched as he stood under the spray.

"You sure?It’s been like half an hour?” you asked, stepping inside and closing the door softly behind you. The faint click of the latch drew his attention, and he turned his head slightly, just enough to see you through the glass.

"You don’t have to—"

"I want to," you interrupted gently, already peeling off your sweater and jeans. He watched you for a moment longer before nodding and turning back to the water. When you slid open the door to step in, the warm water hit your skin, making you shiver slightly before you adjusted. Quinn glanced at you over his shoulder, his eyes soft but tired. You reached out to brush a hand lightly over his back, feeling the tension there.

"Hey," you said softly, your voice barely audible over the water. “Give me the loofa.” He didn’t protest as you grabbed the bottle of body wash and worked it into a lather, your hands gentle as they moved over his shoulders and down his back. He let out a small, almost imperceptible sigh, the tightness in his posture easing under your touch.

Quinn lets out a soft sigh as he leans his head forwards against the wall, letting you works the suds over his body, your fingers replacing the loofa on occasion to push against the tight muscles, blossoming bruises in random spots on his soft skin. “I know something that might make you feel better.” You coo, stepping back as Quinn turns around a frown on his face, the warm water running down his chest. 

“What do you mea— oh, oh.” Quinn stutters as you drop to your knees. Quinns eyes are wide as he watches you reach upwards, your hand slowly grazing over his semi hard cock as you wrap your hand around it, pumping it slowly as it hardens fully. You glance up at him as you take him into your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks until you feel him touch the back of your throat, his hand bracing on either side of the shower as he lets out a string of curses. 

“Fuck.” He curses as you bob your head on his dick, your mouth coming off with a pop as you glide your tongue up the underside, Quinn thighs trembling slightly as you take him back in your mouth. You hand brace on his thighs as you take as much of him as you can fit into your mouth before pulling back and repeating the process. “Your mouth feels so good.” He groans, his green eyes flashing as he watches your hand wrap around his cock, pumping in the same way your hand was, the shower still running over his back as you glance up at him. 

“Come in my mouth, Quinn.” You whisper, letting your mouth fall open, as you pump him faster, his hips stuttering forwards as the precum begins to leak from his tip, your thumb collecting it as using it as lubricant as your squeeze the base of his dick, Quinn letting out a low groan as his hips jerk one more time, his cum landing on your tongue as you leans forwards to clean him up. 

“You know Santa is watching as I think that would put you on the naughty list.” Quinn jokes with a tired smile, wincing once again as it pulls on his stitches. You smile back, pushing yourself up from the floor, Quinn’s hands reaching out to steady you. 

“Well I guess you’re going to have to write him a letter about how super duper nice I’ve been this year.” You tease back, stealing the still soapy loofa from besides him to wash of any remnants of your showering activities. “Feeling any better?” You ask, with a quirk of your eyebrow, Quinn’s head nodding quickly. 

“So much better.” 

+

+

20th of December 

“We just need one more thing for your brothers and then we’re done.” You say quickly, glancing down at the shopping list you were holding. “Luke still requested the apple headphones.” You stifle a laugh as Quinn lets out a long groan, his hands tightly knotted in the back of your sweater as you make your way to the Apple Store. 

“I don’t understand why he wants them for christmas, he makes enough money to buy them himself.” Quinn complains, and you nod in agreement but find Lukes innocence around christmas refreshing compared to the rest of the families requests. 

“Yeah but we know how Luke is with money, he prefers to pretend it doesn’t exist because it just makes him nervous.” You explain, nodding a quick hello to the worker at the entrance as you drag your boyfriend over to the display of headphones. “He said he wanted the blue?” You say, reaching towards the metallic coloured headphone looking over them before comparing them to the photo the youngest Hughes has sent. 

Quinns hand tugs on the back of your sweater as the shop worker approaches, his free hand making quick work of pulling his hood up and over his head, pulling the cap he was wearing further down to hide his face better. 

“Hello, is there anything I can help you with today?” The worker asks quickly, his gaze shooting between you and your now criminal looking boyfriend. 

“Uh, we were hoping to get a pair of these sky blue AirPod max, it’s for my brother-in-law.” You explain quickly the workers eyes lighting up as he nods quickly, moving to punch some buttons in the tablet in his hand. 

“I’ll make sure we have one out the back for you.” He says quickly, hovering silently as he waits for the response on his iPad. “You know your boyfriend seems really familiar.” 

You freeze for a moment, Quinn’s hand tightening on the back of your sweater, pulling you slightly closer to him as if that could make him blend into the surroundings. His posture straightens, and he ducks his head a little more, eyes narrowing at the worker.

“Oh, uh, yeah. He’s a—” You start, but Quinn’s quiet voice cuts you off.

“Can we just get the headphones?” His tone is polite but curt, and it’s obvious he’s trying to avoid attention. The worker, however, seems not to pick up on Quinn’s discomfort, his eyes still flicking back and forth between the two of you.

“Sorry,” the worker continues, his voice a little too loud now, “it’s just, you really look like Quinn Hughes. The hockey player, right?” Quinn’s face tightens slightly. He doesn’t say anything at first, his eyes flicking to you quickly for a silent moment, before turning back to the worker with a small, forced smile. You can see him trying to mask the irritation behind his eyes, but it’s clear he’s not in the mood for attention today.

“Yeah,” he says flatly, rubbing his hand over the cut on his lip absentmindedly. The large, red gash across his upper lip is still healing, and it’s clear he’s not thrilled with the idea of having it photographed or discussed.

“Oh wow, that’s so cool! Can I get a picture with you? My girlfriend’s gonna freak out when I show her!” The worker says excitedly, completely missing the discomfort radiating off Quinn. You feel Quinn stiffen beside you. He shifts his weight uneasily, glancing briefly at the worker before looking back at you. He’s clearly trying to avoid drawing any more attention to himself. The large cut on his lip is still fresh, and the last thing he wants right now is to have a picture taken that could end up all over social media.

“Umm. now is not really a good time.” You say quickly, “with the high stick and everything he’s a little shy.” You whisper as you lean towards the worker, the worker nods quickly tucking his phone back into his pocket sending Quinn an apologetic smile. 

“My bad, your headphones should be up at the counter when you’re ready.” The worker says quickly rushing away as you turn to Quinn, who’s pouting as he had been all day. 

“Suck it up princess, we’re almost done.” You say, dragging him towards the counter, the man saying nothing but passing you his credit card as the cashier rings up the present.  Quinn doesn’t say anything as you finish paying for the headphones, but his posture stays tense, his lips still curled into a faint scowl. The cashier hands you the bag with the carefully wrapped headphones inside, and you shoot Quinn a sympathetic look. 

“Almost there, I swear,” you mutter, gently tugging on his sleeve as you make your way toward the exit.

Quinn grumbles in response, but it’s softer this time, and his hand loosens from the back of your sweater. He looks over at you, his brow furrowing just a little. “Why do we even bother with these shopping trips? You know I hate them.” You laugh, shaking your head.

 “Because it’s Christmas, and you're stuck with me. Besides, it’s part of the whole thing—giving, shopping, the stress, the fake smiles.” You nudge him playfully. “And you do love getting gifts for people, deep down.” Quinn hums in thought, but doesn’t argue as you both make your way toward the next shop on your list. His hand slips into yours, his earlier discomfort forgotten as you settle into the rhythm of your shared Christmas errands. The next store is a local record shop, which Quinn had insisted you add to your list despite the fact it was not part of the original plan. As you enter, the familiar smell of vinyl and incense hits you, and Quinn’s eyes light up, his earlier frustration momentarily forgotten.

“There we go,” he mutters to himself, as if the entire world had righted itself with the simple presence of music. You roll your eyes with a smile, watching as he gravitates toward the “New Releases” section with that spark of genuine interest that only comes with a record store visit.

“Just one album, right?” You call after him, hands on your hips. He turns, offering you a small, sheepish grin. “Maybe two,” he says innocently, but you know him well enough to understand it’ll be more like five by the time he’s done browsing. After a few minutes, you find yourself scanning the racks with him, picking up random albums you know you won’t buy but enjoying the process all the same.  You finally pull out a few albums that you think Luke might appreciate and hand them to Quinn, who takes them without question, his brows knitting together as he examines each one carefully. 

“This one’s good, right?” You ask, holding up a record by one of Jack’s favourite bands. He shrugs noncommittally, though his smile grows a little. 

“Could be worse,” he replies dryly, before he adds, “Jack’s not hard to buy for. He’ll love it.”

You beam. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

“I guess,” Quinn murmurs, slipping the vinyls into a bag and leading the way to the counter. By the time you’re both done, it’s dark outside, the streetlights casting a golden glow over the snow that’s started to fall more heavily. You loop your arm through his as you step out into the cold, making your way toward the car.

“So,” you start, glancing at him with a mischievous smile, “now that we’ve officially survived the shopping trip, I’ve got one more question.”

Quinn’s eyes flick to you, narrowing slightly. “What’s that?”

You glance at the bag of headphones in your hand, then back at him. “What are you getting me for Christmas?” Quinn shrugs his shoulders, as you both slide into the car, doing up your seatbelts before Quinn pulls out of your parking spot. 

“Why? My gifts so far haven’t been good enough?” Quinn questions teasingly, “I might have one you can open a few days early?” He suggests, your face lighting up in excitement, Quinn had learnt early on in your relationship to prepare a gift for you to open early to help you get through the Christmas Day without snooping. Last year he had let you open a box set of the book series you had been talking about for weeks - it kept you occupied all the way to christmas. 

“Oh, is it something fun?” You ask.

“You could say that.” He agrees, quickly adding, “Its small and pink and goes buzz.” He lets out a soft chuckle at his own inside joke your head spinning with ideas until it hits you. 

“Quintin Jerome Hughes, did you get me a vibrator for christmas?”  Quinn lets out a startled laugh, nearly swerving the car as he tries to compose himself. His eyes flicker to you, wide with a mix of amusement and embarrassment.

 “What? No, I—” He cuts himself off, glancing back at the road, and you can practically hear his thoughts racing. “I didn’t get you that... but maybe I did get you something that could buzz, if you know what I mean.” You raise an eyebrow, unable to suppress your smirk. You know that tone. The mischievous, half-embarrassed one that only shows up when Quinn's being playfully coy.

“Quinn Hughes, did you really just say that?” You lean forward, eyes narrowing in teasing disbelief. “Are you telling me that the early Christmas gift you’ve been hinting at is… a vibrator?” Quinn’s cheeks flush a deep shade of red, and he makes a hasty glance at the rearview mirror, then back at the road.

 “I—uh—I mean, I didn’t say it was that, but you’re not exactly wrong.” You burst into laughter, head thrown back as you catch a glimpse of his sheepish smile. He’s trying, and failing, to act casual. The tension in his shoulders tells you all you need to know—he’s definitely embarrassed, but he’s also clearly enjoying the effect his little tease is having on you.

“Quinn, I swear.” You laugh, nudging his shoulder playfully with yours. “I never would’ve guessed. I thought you were going to be all romantic and give me something sentimental—like, a photo album or something sweet. But no, you’re giving me a buzz-worthy surprise.”

“Hey, I am being romantic,” Quinn grumbles, though you can hear the hint of a smile in his voice. “It’s just… well, it’s a practical gift. You’ll see. You will appreciate it, trust me.”

“Uh-huh.” You can’t help but giggle, the idea of Quinn Hughes—this big, tough hockey player—giving you a vibrator as a Christmas present making the entire situation even more entertaining.  Quinn shoots you a quick glance, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter.

The rest of the drive is filled with light-hearted teasing and jokes, both of you trying to stay serious but failing miserably in the face of the absurdity of it all. Finally, Quinn pulls into your apartment building’s parking lot, his hands still gripping the wheel.

“Alright,” Quinn says, glancing over at you. “Before you get too excited, I need you to promise me something.”

“What’s that?” you ask, your curiosity piqued, your mind already racing with the possibilities.

“No spoiling it, okay?” He lets out a nervous chuckle. “I want you to really open it without expecting anything else. Just... let it be a surprise.” You smile sweetly, though your mind is already a whirlwind of teasing ideas. 

“Fine. I promise. But you know, I am really curious now. It’s hard to wait when you’ve already dropped that kind of hint.”

Quinn’s posture relaxes slightly, though you can tell he’s still not entirely sure if you’re going to let him get away with it. You both exit the car and walk toward the door, the tension between you playful, electric. Once inside, Quinn quickly heads to the kitchen, pulling out a small gift bag from behind his back. The pink tissue paper peeking out from the top is unmistakable. He hands it over with a careful smile. 

“Okay, go ahead,” he says, his voice a little quieter now, like he’s finally letting go of the buildup. “Merry early Christmas.”

You take the bag, a mix of amusement and anticipation buzzing through you. You peek inside, feeling something smooth and compact, wrapped in soft tissue paper. Your fingers trail over the shape, and you pull it out slowly, eyes widening as you pull the vibrator from the bag. 

Quinn’s cheeks flush again as he watches your reaction. “I swear, it’s not as weird as it sounds. I thought... you’d enjoy it. It’s a good one. I—uh—did my research.” You glance down at the vibrator in your hand before looking back up at your boyfriend. “It’s supposed to strap to my leg so you can— you know.” He begins to explain, pointing to the straps on the toy before down to his thigh, his muscles bulging through the fabric of his jeans. 

“Quinn, what was your plan for me to use this?” 

“I just thought maybe we could do something a little out of the ordinary?” He explains, rubbing the back of his neck, his curls falling in front of his forehead as he reaches forwards and snatches your new toy out of your hand. “If you don’t want it then don’t use it.” He says, the famous Hughes pout back on his face. 

“Who said anything about not wanting it? I just never thought you’d buy a vibrator for christmas, it’s just a little out of the ordinary.” You chuckle, stepping towards him your arms rising up to hang over his shoulders, tilting your head up to capture his lips in a long kiss, his hands immediately finding their usual spot around your waist, his lips chasing after yours as you pull away. 

“Show me how it works.” You whisper against his mouth, the firm material of his stitches rubbing against your lips. You pull away further from him, your hands trailing down to intertwine with his. "After all, you went through all the trouble to pick it out, didn’t you?”

Quinn's breath hitches slightly, and you catch the faintest flicker of a grin tugging at his lips. He sets the small toy back onto the counter and gives you a look—a mix of playful exasperation and genuine affection. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

You shrug innocently, your fingers brushing against the edge of his hoodie. “I mean, you’re the one who said it was practical,” you counter, your voice dripping with amusement. “I’m just trying to see if you really know how to use it.” His cheeks redden even more, and he bites back a laugh, shaking his head. 

“Alright,” he mutters, grabbing the vibrator again and fiddling with the straps. “Let’s just figure this out together. But if you start laughing too much, I’m taking it back.” You stifle a giggle as Quinn reads the tiny instruction booklet that came with the toy, his brow furrowing in concentration. His serious expression as he tries to decipher the diagram is endearing, and you can’t help but lean into his side, resting your head on his shoulder.

“You’re really committed to this, aren’t you?” you tease softly, your laughter breaking through when he gives you a mock glare.

“Of course I am,” he replies, a faint smile playing on his lips. “I told you—I wanted to do something different this year. And, well...” He trails off, holding up the vibrator with a slight smirk. “Mission accomplished?” You burst out laughing, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him closer. 

“Definitely accomplished. And for the record, I love it. You’re full of surprises, Quinn Hughes.” He ducks his head, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before glancing back at the toy. “Alright, let’s figure this out. But next year, I’m getting you something less... complicated.” Quinn works out the instructions quickly, strapping the new toy to his thigh, the purple silicone starting to look more tempting by the second. 

“Quinn.” You say softly as he continues to read through the instruction manual. 

“Hmm.” He hums in response, his eyes not leaving the small plastic booklet. You start by pulling off your shirt, shuffling your leggings down your legs next, your underwear remaining in place as you tap on his shoulder, his gaze shooting up at you the booklet dropping from his hands. 

“Go sit on the couch.” Quinn doesn’t hesitate making his way over to the couch sinking into the cushions as he watches you approach, his legs opening slightly as you stand in front of him — your hands slowly pulling your panties down your legs as you lift your legs to straddle his left thigh, sitting down ontop of the silicone now strapped to his leg, the cold of the toy making you shiver in delight. 

“Show me how it works, Quinn.” You say softly, bracing your hands on his shoulders, as his eyes lock on yours, your boyfriend clearing his throat before looking down at the app on his phone, fiddling with the screen until he finds the on button. 

“It had ten speeds.” Quinn says softly, the soft vibrations almost instantly melting your body as they tease along your slit. “They recommend riding the toy.” Quinn coughs, one hand gripping his unlocked phone the other gripping the front of the couch cushion. You nod at his instructions slowly moving your hips back and forth along the toy as Quinn bumps up the vibrations by two levels. 

Quinn watches you ride the toy for a few moments before bumping up the speed again, his legs tensing as you let out a soft groan. “Shit, that feels good.” You whisper, your nails digging into Quinns shoulders as you throw your head back, your breathing becoming heavier, your tits pushing towards Quinns face. 

“Can you —” Quinn hesitates, his throat bobbing around the lump, “Can you take of your bra?” He asks softly, almost embarrassed. 

“You’ve got hands” You hiss as he bumps the speed up again, your hips starting to loose their rhythm. Quinn takes your response and runs with it, his phone dropping to the couch besides him, his hands reaching for the back clasps of your bra, pulling the fabric away from your chest as fast as he can manage letting your tits falling free, as you glance down at your boyfriend you can see the ways he’s drooling over watching you move against him. 

“You can touch them you know - this isn’t a hands off month or anything.” You snark, smiling as Quinn wastes no time in latching his mouth to one of your nipples, sucking on the sensitive flesh as his other hand reaches up to cup the lonely one, his lips leave your nipples pressing kisses along your chest before latching onto the next one, your fingers digging into the hair at the base of his neck as you let out a long moan. 

“Speed it up Quinn.” You grumble, yours hips moving frantically now as his kisses make their way up your neck, his hands fiddling with his phone, pressing the screen a few times as the vibrator maxes out. 

“Oh god save me.” You hum, your eyes squeezing shut as your move your hips desperately, Quinns fingers pinching your chin as he lowers your head down to his, his lips capturing yours in an antagonising and slow kiss. Both his hands helping guide your hips agains his thigh as you moan against his mouth. 

“Fuck, I’m so close.” You grumble against his mouth as he kisses you again, his leg bouncing slightly as your grind against it, a small squeal leaving you as your orgasm hits, Quinn’s hand holding you down against the vibrator as you try to escape, the feeling overwhelming as your let out another high pitched moan trying to break free of Quinn hold. 

“God can’t find you now.” Quinn teases as he slowly lowers the vibrations on the toy until he turns it off completely, your wetness running down to toy and soaking into his jeans - your body collapsing into his chest as you let out ragged breaths. “Maybe switching things up wasn’t such a bad idea after all.” 

+

+

25th of December - Christmas Day

“Merry Christmas everyone!” You cheer as you and Quinn walk into the house - the Millers holding the annual christmas get together for those without a larger Family to see over the two day break. You drop the presents you had bought for Quinn’s teammates by the tree before rushing into the kitchen to give quick hello’s to the hosts of the day. 

“The matching shirts are amazing.” You say to Natalie as you take in the small family in their christmas outfits, the same ones they had worn on the christmas card they had sent out the friends and family. 

“What about you and Quinn looking great as always.” Natalie coos right back, Quinn and JT giving each other a quick hug and a grumble ‘merry christmas’ before joining the two of you near the counter. 

“Merry Christmas,” Quinn murmurs, leaning in to kiss the top of your head as you chat with Natalie. The warmth of his affection makes your cheeks flush, though you’re quick to hide it behind a laugh.

“Alright, let’s see this spread,” Quinn says, stepping away to inspect the food table, and JT follows with a knowing smirk.

Natalie gives you a wink. “You two are adorable. Don’t let him get too caught up with JT’s nonsense, though. Last year, they spent half the night debating hockey stats instead of mingling.”

You grin. “I’ll keep an eye on him.” As the party flows on, you and Quinn find yourselves swept into small conversations—catching up with friends, laughing at old stories, and enjoying the cozy chaos of the Miller household. The sound of Christmas music and the hum of happy chatter fill the air, but your focus keeps wandering back to Quinn. Every shared glance and subtle touch sets your heart racing, and you can tell he feels it too.

At one point, you catch him standing near the Christmas tree, looking at you with a soft smile that sends a shiver down your spine. He nods subtly toward the hallway. Your pulse quickens as you follow his lead, slipping away from the crowd unnoticed.

Quinn takes your hand, guiding you down the hall and into the small, dimly lit bathroom. The door clicks shut behind you, and before you can say anything, his lips are on yours—warm, urgent, and full of everything he’s been holding back all evening.

“You’ve been driving me crazy all night,” he murmurs against your lips, his hands resting on your hips as he pulls you closer.

You smile against his mouth, threading your fingers into his hair. “I was wondering how long you’d hold out.”

His chuckle is low and soft as he leans back to look at you, his gaze filled with affection and mischief. “Merry Christmas, baby,” he whispers before kissing you again, his hands roaming your back as the world outside the bathroom fades away.

Time seems to stop as you lose yourselves in the quiet, stolen moment—just the two of you, tangled together in the warmth of your love, while the party hums on outside.

Quinn’s hands slide up your sides, his touch firm yet careful, as if he’s savouring every second of having you this close. The kiss deepens, his lips parting yours in a way that sends sparks racing through your veins. You feel his breath hitch when you tug gently at his hair, and the soft groan he lets out only fuels the fire growing between you.

Without breaking the kiss, he moves his hands down to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly onto the bathroom counter. The cool surface contrasts with the heat of your body, making you gasp against his lips.

“Too much?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, his forehead resting against yours for a moment as he searches your face.

“Not even close,” you whisper, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw before pulling him back in. His hands grip your thighs firmly, spreading them just enough so he can step closer, his hips pressing against yours.

The kiss grows hungrier, more desperate, as if the world outside has completely disappeared. His fingers tease the hem of your dress, his fingers tickling the soft skin of your thighs. The sensation sends a shiver up your spine, and you press yourself closer to him, your legs wrapping loosely around his hips.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he breathes against your lips, his hands roaming higher under your sweater.

“You started this,” you tease, your voice shaky but filled with a grin.

He chuckles, leaning down to kiss along your jaw, then your neck, his lips and teeth sending shockwaves through you with every touch. Your head tilts back against the mirror, your hands clutching at his shoulders, desperate to keep him close.

A sudden burst of laughter from the party beyond the bathroom door jolts you both back to reality for a moment. Quinn freezes, his lips still pressed to your collarbone, his breath warm against your skin.

“We’re being way too loud,” he whispers, though his smirk suggests he’s anything but sorry.

You laugh softly, biting your lip to keep from making a sound as his hands tighten on your hips. “Then maybe we should stop…”

“Not a chance,” he says, capturing your lips again in a kiss that leaves no room for argument. His fingers continue their way under your skirt before grazing lightly over the centre of your panties, pulling away quickly as you let out a sharp gasp. 

“Fuck it, we’re doing it.” Quinn hisses. His hands making quick work of his belt buckle and yanking his pants open, the material falling to his knees as his cock springs free. His finger slide back under your skirt pushing your panties to the side before pulling you to the very edge of the counter, lining his hips up with yours. “You need to stay quiet.” He whispers as you let out a moan, his hand slapping over your mouth as he slides inside of you. 

You nod quickly, digging you teeth into his palm as he speeds up his movements, his teeth digging into his own lip as he keeps you steady with a hand on your hip, one of your own hands bracing against the sink as you lift two fingers up to Quinn’s mouth.  “Help a girl out here.” Your words are still muffled by his hand, he nods, letting you dip your fingers into his mouth, his tongue swirling around them before releasing them with a pop, your fingers quickly dipping under your skirt rubbing against your clit as Quinn’s hips stutter. 

“Keep going.” You beg, your pussy clenching around him, trying to milk him of his orgasm as his hips thrust slower and harder, the two of you panting as you both reach your high, Quinn leaning forwards to dig his teeth into your shoulder, letting out a grunt as he pumps into you one more time, his hot cum spurting inside of you, the sensation overwhelming as you whine against his hand. 

“We just fucked in your teammates bathroom, on Christmas.” You say into his palm, letting out a choked laugh as Quinn joins you his dick slowly pulling out of you, Quinn pulling away to gather some toiler paper, cleaning himself off before tucking everything back into his pants. His hands on your hips help you back off the counter, a stack of wet paper towel finding their way between your legs cleaning any leaking mess slipping out of you before he repositions your underwear, pressing a chaste kiss against your lips as he gives you a sly smile. 

“I just couldn’t help myself.” He says quietly, pecking you again as he smooths out your skirt. “I hoped you enjoyed your twelve gifts of christmas.” He laughs, your hand finding his as you pull open the door to the bathroom, peeking around the corner before walking out into the hallway. 

“Oh, it’s going to be a new tradition at this point.” You say, not giving him any time to respond and you join the party again. 

[starboye]

starring: alexander "konig" kilgore x male reader

request: just thinking about innocent naive reader getting corrupted and not even noticing a single thing because he just want to be a good friend. . .

warnings: smut + angst, yander!konig, kinda obsessive, handjob

konig was such a good friend to you, he would never do anything to hurt such a pretty thing like you and plus you were both best friends so nothing was ever kept a secret between you two, so imagine konigs' face when you announce you have a date with some guy.

watching his face crack into a soft smile and telling you how happy he is for you but behind those eyes he was mad as hell, i mean who does this new guy think he is to try and take you from him, and it gets even worse when you come back from the date the next night and tell konig about how you loved it so much with the biggest smile on your face.

as much as he wants to feel happy for you he just cant imagine anyone else stealing him from you so he makes up a lie "i don't know about him y/n" he blankly making you question him "what do you mean" you ask him "i just have a weird feeling about him" he continues looking at you with the most beautiful eyes "well what if you just get to know him" you try to give an idea but konig pipes up with "you know my gut feeling is usually always right"

and he was kinda right i mean there was that one time you had feeling for this one guy and it turned out he was actually arrested for murder, or at least that's what konig told you (he pulled some strings at the police station and got what he wanted) "well then yeah i guess i can stop seeing him" you say and within seconds konigs arms are wrapped around you and he's thanking you for trusting him.

and queue the constant run of you finding a good guy and konig coercing you to stop seeing them because he has a 'gut feeling' and you trust him, but really he just wants you all to himself, making you depend on him more and more as time goes on by telling you if you ever need help with anything to call him and you do, calling him for even the littlest inconvenience.

whether that be helping you fix something or letting you cry on his shoulder when you get layed of from your job (after he pulled a few more strings and made it seem like you were a bad employee) and offering you a room at his place since you were short on money and couldn't pay your bills.

with you moved in now he can be so much closer to you, sneaking through your things at any chance he could and whats this it seems like you need some new clothes since all yours seem to be gone (he used all of them to jerk off and now they're ruined with his cum) so he takes you to the mall, carrying all your bags as you go to every store getting all the things you want, but hm it seems you need some help trying on those pants why doesn't he help you.

"you sure you're okay with that" you ask him "yeah it's what friends are for" he says helping you but on the jeans that hugged your ass so well, it was no surprise he got a boner, it straining so hard in his pants he just needed some release "fuck baby i need your help" he groans "what's wrong konig" you asked and he moved your hand to the aching bulge in his sweatpants "please just this once" he pleaded and after some consideration you agreed, i mean it was just a one time thing between two friends right.

pulling his pants down his thick cock flops out and you immediately work on fixing it for him, his grip tightening on the top of the dressing room door, your hand rubbing back and forth on his achingly hard boner, this was like his dream, he had thought about this exact thing so much, jerked off to the thought and feel of it but the real things is so much better than he hand.

"fucking shit y/n" he muttered before cumming on your hand, thick load messing up your hand as he let out shuddering breaths, and after that it became a regular thing, konig being all needy and asking you to come help him get off since you did it best (in reality you weren't the best at it but don't worry he'll train you soon enough).

and time after time it seemed you liked it more and more to the enjoyment of konig, maybe just a few more times and you'll tell him how you've had feeling for him to right?

taglist:@mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09 @znerac

[iris-qt]

𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛

ᴛʜᴇᴏᴅᴏʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴛ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

❆ ᴀᴄᴀᴅᴇᴍɪᴄ ʀɪᴠᴀʟꜱ | 2.4ᴋ

❆ ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ᴀ ʙʟɪɴᴅ ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ʀɪᴠᴀʟꜱ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴏᴅᴏʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴛ, ᴛᴜʀɴꜱ ᴄʜᴀᴏᴛɪᴄ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴀ ꜱɴᴏᴡꜱᴛᴏʀᴍ ᴛʀᴀᴘꜱ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ, ꜰᴏʀᴄɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏɴꜰʀᴏɴᴛ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʙɪᴄᴋᴇʀɪɴɢ. ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢꜱ. (Warning: cussing)

The rusted bell of the Three Broomsticks chimed as Theodore Nott strode into the pub, snowflakes following him in as his trenchcoat billowed around him.

Count on Nott to make a grand entrance.

It was dinnertime and quite packed with travelers and regulars. 

Even some Hogwarts students here and there who had either snuck out or were of age, therefore allowed to leave the castle on weekends.

Theodore nervously cracked his frozen knuckles as he slipped off his trenchcoat, leaving him in a soft cashmere turtleneck, as he took a seat in a cozy corner of the bustling yet cozy pub.

He swore to Merlin he’d hex Mattheo and the rest of the lads silly if this was some sort of prank or setup. The truth is, Theodore Nott had felt quite lonely as of late: not that he minded.

Like at all.

He loved his solidarity.

But his dear old friends had been taking it the wrong way, thinking their new, bustling social life with their romantic partners, internships, and extracurriculars or whatnot had pushed Theo away. 

After much begging and persuading (and Mattheo offering to pay for the date), they had finally gotten Theo to agree to a blind date with a girl they found that they claimed was ‘perfect’ for Theodore. 

He doubted it.

Well, if the girl came with a mute button and plenty of cigarettes to share, then perhaps. But Theo wasn’t oblivious, he saw the way girls treated him, always talking his ear off trying to charm him by faking interest in books he read or operas he adored. 

He didn’t mind talkers.

I mean his best friend was Mattheo Riddle for Merlin’s sake.

But he hated fakers.

And then he also hated people that thought they were better than him

Like Y/N Y/L/N.

Ugh.

Ok, maybe she sometimes got better grades than him, but did that make her better than him?

Fuck no.

The rusted bell of the Three Broomsticks chimed again, and Theodore glanced up from his untouched butterbeer, only to freeze mid-sip.

Speak of the devil and she shall appear.

Clad in a fluffy red scarf and beanie, no less.

Y/N Y/L/N, your scarf loose around your neck and your cheeks flushed from the cold, scanned the room with sharp, intelligent eyes. Your perfectly pressed coat betrayed not a single wrinkle, and your boots clacked against the wooden floor with unnerving precision.

His stomach sank like a poorly cast Levitation Charm.

"Of course," he muttered under his breath.

You spotted him almost instantly, brow furrowing as your gaze flicked between him and the bar. Then, you made your way over, every step radiating purpose.

"Theodore Nott," you greeted, voice dripping with suspicion as you slid into the seat across from him. "What in Merlin's name are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Y/L/N," Theo replied coolly, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "But I’m guessing you’re not here for a pint and a philosophical debate about Arithmancy theories."

Your eyes narrowed. "Are you... waiting for someone?"

Theo hesitated, a dawning sense of horror creeping over him. "I might be. Why? Are you waiting for someone?"

You pulled off your scarf, setting it on the table as you glared at him with an incredible intensity, he wondered how your furrowed eyebrow creases weren’t permanent at this point. "You’re kidding me."

Realization hit them both like a rogue Bludger.

"Wait," you began, your voice dangerously calm. "Are you my blind date?"

Theo groaned, rubbing his temples. "No. No way. This has Mattheo written all over it. That git."

You let out a sharp laugh, equal parts exasperation and disbelief. "Unbelievable. Your friends set you up with me? Are they trying to ruin your life?"

"Clearly," Theo drawled, his tone dry. "I mean, of all the girls at Hogwarts, they pick the one that thinks she’s smarter than me"

Your jaw dropped dramatically. "I don’t think I’m smarter than you, Nott. I am smarter than you. You just can’t handle the fact that I’ve beaten you in every subject except Potions."

"Oh, please," he scoffed. "You only beat me in Charms last term because Flitwick is clearly biased."

"Biased?" you threw your hands up. "I wrote a twenty-four-inch essay comparing historical uses of nonverbal magic to modern applications. What did you write about, Theo? Oh, right. You didn’t write anything because you were too busy sulking after losing the chess tournament."

"I wasn’t sulking," Theo snapped, cheeks flushing. "I was... reflecting."

You smirked, clearly enjoying yourself. "Right. Reflecting with a scowl so deep it could rival Draco's pockets"

He rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t help the corner of his mouth from twitching upward. "You’re insufferable."

“Aw Theo, you can do better than that..” You pause to scan the menu as you steal Theodore’s butterbeer, much to his chagrin as he mutters something under his breath. “What was that?” you smirk, bringing your eyes up in a teasing manner. “Tryna hex me there, Theodore Nott?”

He purses his lips as you reach out to shake snowflakes out of his hair with a snicker.

Did your eyes deceive you or did he blush? Nah it was just the biting cold.

“Let me guess. Silently judging what I’m about to order?” you scoff, trying to distract from the awkward silence after your intimate gesture.

"Only if it’s that ridiculous concoction with extra marshmallows," he retorted.

"Fine," you said, lifting your chin. "Then I’ll take two extra marshmallows just to annoy you."

Theo chuckled despite himself, shaking his head. "Merlin help me, this is going to be a disaster."

"Oh, it already is," you quipped, raising a sarcastic toast with Theo's butterbeer you stole earlier. "But don’t worry, Nott. At least you’ll have something to sulk about for the next month."

He shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. "And you’ll have a great story to tell everyone about how you drove me mad in under an hour."

"Wouldn’t be the first time," you muttered with a smirk of your own.

And as the tension between them slowly gave way to reluctant amusement, neither of them noticed the group of grinning faces peeking in through the pub’s frosted window.

The iced window of the Three Broomsticks provided just enough visibility for Mattheo Riddle to squint through, his nose practically pressed against the glass.

“Move over, Mattheo,” Pansy hissed, shoving him to the side. “I can’t see a thing with your massive head in the way.”

“It’s a normal-sized head, thank you very much,” Mattheo muttered, but he shifted slightly to let Pansy peer through.

Behind them, Draco Malfoy stood with his arms crossed, looking every bit the reluctant participant. “This is ridiculous. We’re grown wizards. Spying through pub windows is beneath us.”

“And yet,” Blaise Zabini drawled from where he leaned lazily against the wall, “here you are. Standing outside in the snow like a commoner.”

Draco huffed. “I’m only here to witness the fallout. I give it twenty minutes before one of them storms out.”

“Fifteen,” Blaise countered, pulling out a pocket watch. “And they’ll start warming up to each other.”

“I’m saying ten,” Pansy whispered, squinting through the fogged glass. “Shit, look at Theo’s face. He already looks like he’s plotting her demise.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Mattheo said, grinning as he craned his neck to get a better view. “He’s clearly smitten.”

Pansy snorted. “Smitten? He looks like he’d rather be dueling a Hungarian Horntail than sitting across from Y/N.”

“Well, Y/N doesn’t look thrilled either,” Blaise noted, smirking as he caught a glimpse of you animatedly gesturing at Theo.

“Doesn’t matter,” Mattheo interjected, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, a wicked grinch-like grin on his face. “This is going exactly as I planned. The tension, the banter... it’s perfect. By the end of the night, they’ll either be snogging or plotting a joint murder spree.”

“Optimistic of you,” Draco muttered.

“Shut up, Draco,” Mattheo shot back. “You’re the one who said they’d ‘never even stay for the date.’ And look! There they are. Sitting. Together.”

Pansy tilted her head, watching as you leaned forward, your hands waving in exaggerated frustration. Theo responded with a slow, deliberate smirk, clearly enjoying riling you up.

“Is it just me,” Pansy whispered, “or does Theo look like he’s having fun?”

Draco leaned in to take a look, his silver eyes narrowing. “He’s smirking. That’s usually a bad sign.”

“Not this time,” Blaise said, his grin widening. “He only smirks like that when he’s impressed. Y/N must have said something clever.”

“I told you,” Mattheo exclaimes triumphantly. “They’re perfect for each other.”

“Or they’ll duel right in the middle of the pub,” Draco muttered, though even he couldn’t hide his curiosity.

“I still think it’s sweet,” Pansy said with a satisfied sigh. “Even if Theo’s too stubborn to admit it, he needs someone who can keep up with him. And Y/N is the only person who ever has.”

The group fell silent for a moment, watching as you mockingly raised your hot chocolate, your eyes sparkling with sarcastic delight. Theo rolled his eyes, but there was a trace of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Look at that,” Blaise said softly. “He’s smiling.”

“Smirking,” Draco corrected.

“Close enough,” Mattheo said, clapping his hands together. “Operation Set Theo And Y/N Up is officially a success.”

“It’s been fifteen minutes,” Pansy noted, glancing at Blaise’s watch.

“Pay up, Draco,” Blaise said smugly, holding out his hand.

Draco scowled but reluctantly reached into his pocket, pulling out a handful of sickles. “This is the last time I bet on Theo’s love life.”

“Shush!” Pansy hissed. “They’re looking this way!”

The four of them ducked down in a comically uncoordinated scramble, huddling against the frosty wall.

Inside, Theo’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, his gaze flicking toward the window. “Did you see something?” he asked, turning back to you.

You raised an eyebrow. “What, like your dignity? No, I don’t think so.”

He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Merlin save me.”

Outside, Mattheo stifled a laugh. “They’re going to kill us when they find out.”

“Worth it,” Pansy whispered, grinning.

The frosted glass of the Three Broomsticks didn’t do much to shield Mattheo and the others from the biting wind, and after an hour of spying, their enthusiasm had significantly dwindled.

“Alright, I’ve seen enough,” Draco announced, brushing snow off his shoulders. “They’re bickering like usual. This is going nowhere.”

“Give it time,” Mattheo said stubbornly, though his teeth were starting to chatter. “Theo plays the long game.”

“You’re the only one playing a game,” Blaise said, adjusting his scarf. “And I’m freezing. Let’s go before Pansy turns into an icicle.”

Pansy glared at him. “I’m fine, thanks for asking. But for the record, if I get frostbite, I’m hexing you all.”

As if to punctuate her point, a sharp gust of wind whipped through the alley, sending a flurry of snow right into their faces.

“Alright, fine,” Mattheo grumbled, reluctantly stepping back from the window. “Let’s go before we all catch dragon pox.”

“You mean frostbite,” Draco corrected.

“Same thing,” Mattheo muttered, trudging away.

The group disappeared into the swirling snow, their laughter fading as they made their way back to the castle.

Inside the pub, Theo watched the window suspiciously, his brows furrowed.

“Dude, what are you looking at?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you sipped his butterbeer you stole and your hot chocolate in turn, just to annoy him.

“Nothing,” Theo muttered, shaking his head. He was sure he’d seen movement, but it was probably just the wind.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Right. Because glaring out the window like that is completely normal behavior.”

“I don’t expect you to understand,” Theo shot back, leaning back in his chair. “Not everyone walks through life oblivious to their surroundings.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said with mock concern, resting your chin on your hand. “Should I be worried about the snowflakes plotting against us? Or maybe it’s a herd of rogue unicorns coming to rescue me from this disaster of a date?”

Theo rolled his eyes, taking a deliberate sip of his butterbeer as he dragged it away from you. “If only they’d hurry up.”

Their exchange was cut short when the door to the pub opened, letting in a fresh gust of icy wind. A group of travelers stumbled in, bundled in layers and dusted with snow, their voices loud and cheerful. The sudden influx of cold air sent a shiver through the room, and you tugged your cloak tighter around your shoulders.

“It’s getting worse out there,” one of the newcomers said, stamping snow off their boots. “Could barely see five feet in front of me.”

Madam Rosmerta appeared from behind the bar, her expression turning serious as she listened to the chatter. She glanced toward the windows, where the snow was now falling thick and fast, sticking to the glass and obscuring the view outside.

Theo followed her gaze, frowning. “Looks like we’re in for a real storm.”

“Brilliant,” you muttered, leaning back in her chair. “Just what we needed.”

Before Theodore could fire back a response, Madam Rosmerta clapped her hands, drawing the room’s attention.

“Listen up, everyone!” she called out, her voice cutting through the hum of conversation. “I’ve just received word from Hogsmeade Station. The storm’s picking up faster than expected. Roads are closing, and it’s not safe to travel. If you’re here, you’re staying until it clears.”

A collective murmur of concern rippled through the pub.

You blinked, sitting up straighter. “Wait, what does she mean by ‘staying’?”

Theo groaned, rubbing his temples. “She means we’re stuck here, Y/L/N. Do try to keep up.”

Madam Rosmerta walked over to their table, her usual warm demeanor tinged with apology. “Sorry about this, dears. It’s for everyone’s safety. We’ve got spare rooms upstairs if you need them.”

You stared at her, mouth slightly open. “You mean we’re stranded together?”

“Looks like it,” Theo muttered, looking like he was already mentally preparing to endure the ordeal.

“Wonderful,” you said flatly, sinking back into your seat. “Truly the cherry on top of this perfect evening.”

Theo shot her a sidelong glance, his lips twitching with a reluctant smirk. “Cheer up, Y/L/N. It’s not every day you get the privilege of spending the night in my company. Imagine how jealous the others will be when you tell them”

“If I had a wand right now,” Y/N muttered, “I’d turn you into a snowman and leave you outside.”

The storm outside howled louder, sealing their fate as the pub doors were bolted shut.

@animatedglittergraphics-n-more for divider

Part 2 perhaps…

[bloggerspam]

Merry Christmas Eve! We're in the home stretch now. :)

===

"Alright Ghost of the Here and Now,"

Jason grumbles with false bravado, "Lay it on me. What are you gonna show me? Bruce yelling at me? Alfred's disappointment? Dickie's New and Exciting Life?"

Danny simply stares at him in silent disappointment. The ghost is floating, his legs gone and merged into a ghostly tail. He's floating this way and that, humming as he observes Jason slumped on his bed.

Jason huffs, impatient after his ordeal with Dani, and decides to be a little shit. "Do you change sizes too? Like the one in the book does?"

Danny considers him for a moment, before smiling. Jason blinks, and suddenly Danny is gone.

He straightens up, looking this way and that for the ghost. He couldn't have just..left, right?

A little chirrup freezes him, looking down at his lap towards the source of the sound.

Danny, apparently, can change sizes.

He looks exactly the same, just miniature now, in his lap. Ghostly tail a little longer, face and eyes a little more rounder, hands little paws.

Just a little guy.

"Huh." Jason cradles Danny in his palms, bringing him up to his face, "Cool. Can you talk like that too? Or just the chirping?"

Baby Danny grins, tiny teeth sharp, as the miniature medallion on his chest begins to whir. He reaches up and boops Jason on the nose, causing him to blink against not just the action but also the sudden flash of green.

When his eyes open up again, Jason is sitting on the ledge of an unfamiliar building overlooking an unfamiliar city.

"This is Jump City." Danny's voice startles him, almost making him flinch off the building. Thankfully, his bat-training kicks in so he doesn't fall.

"Think happy thoughts." Not so thankfully, Danny, now back to human size, pushes him off the building anyway.

He screams, hands automatically reaching to grab for a grapple gun that isn't there. Fuck.

Fuck!!!

Jason tries to look for a ledge, anything to break his fall, when suddenly and abruptly his fall stops.

A moment of vertigo later, he realizes he's been grabbed by some unknown force and is floating.

"You didn't think happy thoughts." He looks around and notices that Danny is below him, looking up with a shit-eating grin.

"O-only psychopaths," Jason breathes out through his sheer panic, "Would think happy thoughts when they're falling off a fucking building."

Danny chortles out a loud laugh, eyes crinkling in amusement.

"Besides," Jason gulps to get his heart back in control, "You're not Peter Pan."

"You're right." Danny floats around and above him, Jason's body floating to follow, "But much as we joke about it, I'm not the Ghost of Christmas Present either."

"I guess it would be pointless to show me something I already know." Jason surmises, finally getting his heart in control. Danny must have some kind of telekinesis, different from Dani.

"I'd argue against that," Danny shrugs, "But I have a feeling you're good at twisting things."

"I resent that." Jason huffs, "I see what I see."

"Debatable." Danny huffs back, finally finding the building he was looking for and touching them down on a very large T-shaped building. "Besides, I've got something you won't be able to finagle your way out of."

"Finagle," Jason scoffs, "Whatever. Where even are we? Weird fucking shape for a building."

"It's Titans Tower." Danny smirks, walking up a set of stairs to the helipad, "You know, your brother's home?"

Jason jolts, looking around more closely. He hasn't been to the Tower yet, though Dickie promised he would bring him Christmas Break. It's….

"Really in your face huh?" Danny chuckles, "And I thought my house was obnoxious."

"It…sure is something." Jason agrees, wondering what Bruce thinks about all this.

He must know, right? Bruce ‘paranoid is my state of being’ Wayne couldn't have been okay with this. Titans Tower is glaringly obvious, on its own little island just a little bit away from the city. Was this Dickie's idea? Rebellion? And Bruce just lets him?

Then again, Dickie is the golden child. Can't do no wrong, even now he supposes.

But Dickie can't be serious, right? Like, he's just got his superhero base just….out there. For all and sundry to just. Know.

How can Dickie even sleep at night?

Danny grabs his hand suddenly, pulling him off to the side of the helipad and putting a finger to his lips. Jason nods, knowing the deal by now.

A second later, they go invisible just as the noise of an aircraft enters the sky.

They wait as the aircraft lands, watching as the Titans empty out in an exhausted jumble. They jostle each other, ribbing and bantering and familiar. Jason recognizes them from Dickie's pictures, feeling a pang of something go through him at how comfortable each and every one of them are with each other.

"Rob." Cyborg suddenly jolts up, frantically tapping at something on the computer on his arm.

"It's Nightwing, Cy." Dickie, in his Nightwing uniform, chuckles as he emerges from behind the pack to step onto the roof. "Robin is my darling brother now, remember?"

Jason bites his lip, to prevent any noise from coming out. Danny squeezes his hand and he realizes he's stepped forward a bit, towards Dickie.

He looks…the same, but different. His hair's reaching his butt, for God's sake. He always kept it long, but it couldn't have been that long, right? It was at his shoulders or something the last time he saw his brother. His uniform is a little different too: he's got padded gauntlets to go with his utility belt now.

He looks haggard, tired smile and slumping shoulders and all.

"Dick." Cyborg's voice is grave, making Jason tense. What happened? "Comms are back online."

Dickie straightens up, exhausted playfulness suddenly alert and serious. He pulls out a communicator from his utility belt and scans the multitude of messages he seems to be receiving.

Jason watches as the other Titans do the same, all reacting in staggered effect as they each have varied amounts of notifications.

It's Starfire's reaction that makes Jason pull against Danny's grip. A hand covers his mouth, the other arm coming around to grip at Jason and keep him still as he struggles.

Starfire has a hand covering her mouth, dropping the communicator and frantically going over to Dickie who is, who's…

Something breaks in Nightwing's hands. His communicator? Jason didn't even know he was that strong, didn't know that was possible. But no, it seems to be fine, just cracked to all hell with a missing antenna—

Nightwing presses some buttons, Starfire fretting around him, hovering as the others stand tense and ready to start…start what?

What the fuck is going on? Jason bites at Danny's hand, but Danny doesn't even fucking flinch. What the fuck is going on!

"Batman." Nightwing's voice is a growl, causing shivers through his spine, stilling him in fear. He's never seen Dickie this mad.

"Why the fuck," Nightwing clenches his fist, body coiled tense like he's about to strike, "is the Gotham Gazette saying my little brother is dead."

A pin could be dropped 3 miles away, and Jason would be able to hear it.

"It doesn't fucking matter that I was off planet, he's my little brother!"

Jason can't breathe. You'll meet her, Danny had said, And then you'll die.

"YOU HAD HIS FUCKING FUNERAL WITHOUT ME, BRUCE!" Nightwing is screaming, pacing back and forth like a caged lion. The rest of the Titans huddle together, watching warily.

Jason can't fucking see anymore, things are blurring. He's never seen Dickie this distraught, and he can't believe Bruce would do that. He can't—He really did die.

Somehow, even when told point blank, Jason didn't actually think about what would happen after his death.

Some part of him thinks it wouldn't have mattered much anyway, a street kid like him.

But Dickie is screaming hoarsely into the communicator at Bruce, and Bruce held a funeral for him.

Even though Jason knew they would, at least to a certain extent, it still surprises him.

It's a conflicting feeling, this trust and fear.

It feels like ages, with Dickie's rage acting as white noise, before Jason can get a grip.

He's being held, he thinks, can feel the way Danny's chest rises and falls against his back. The hand over his mouth is gone, migrated to his chest and pushing lightly as if to coax Jason into breathing. A makeshift CPR.

The other hand is being gripped by Jason's hands against his stomach. Jason almost lets go, or at least wants to, but realizes he can't bring himself to.

He stares at where Dick is crumpled on the ground with his teammates surrounding him and doesn't know what to think, how to feel, what to do now.

He just watches as Dickie grieves.

Grieves him.

"I'm going to fucking kill him." Dickie finally mutters to the ground. The rest of the Titans wisely say nothing.

His brother gathers himself up and marches back into the aircraft they came in on, growling out a "I'm going to Gotham. Cyborg's in charge."

Starfire reaches out to him to place a hand on his shoulder delicately. Dickie holds it for a moment, breathing, but shakes his head with a whisper. Jason is too far away to hear it, but Starfire nods with a crumpled expression and lets him go.

Soon, the aircraft lifts up and the Titans vacate the roof.

"Why did you show me this?" Jason croaks out.

Danny makes them both visible, getting them both floating up into the sky. Unlike Gotham, there is no smog to hide in here at Jump City.

It's clear blue skies and good weather days Jason's not used to seeing. Danny lets them hover there, making a sort of glowing green platform for Jason to sit upon. It's grounding, tethers Jason to something so he doesn't float away emotionally either.

"You see what you see." Danny answers with a shrug. It should sound smug, the way he throws Jason's words back at him, but all it sounds like is exhaustion. "You ever think about what you don't?"

"No point," Jason’s voice is small, a facsimile of confidence, still shaken by this side of Dickie he's never known. "They don't wanna show me, then it's not for me."

"Street Kid logic." Danny hums as he floats lazily around Jason on the platform. "Mind your business, and nobody minds you."

"Nothing's free," Jason agrees, "Even love comes at a cost."

Danny's nose wrinkles as he flips to float on his stomach, as if he's just rolling around on a bed and not in the middle of the sky. He lays his cheek down on the cross of his arms, feet kicking behind him like a teenager looking bored.

Danny is around Jason's age, so maybe he is bored. But he highly doubts it with the way Danny's eyes run over him like sharp knives running down his skin along the face of the blade. Not quite cutting, but the danger is there if you move it the wrong way.

"My little sister was an experiment," Danny says, apropos of nothing, "She was brainwashed and groomed by her creator."

What the fuck do you even say to that? Luckily, Danny doesn't seem to need Jason to say anything.

"His one downfall was that he allowed her to read books." Danny smirked, "Got her smart. When she was sent to kill me, I talked her out of it by giving her information. She didn't really believe me at first, but eventually, she learned for herself. She asked questions, she saw with her own two eyes. She grew,"

Danny sits up in the air, crisscross applesauce, sitting gently across from Jason on the platform.

"You wanted to know who your birth mother was." Danny shrugs, "So she showed you."

Danny reaches over to pry Jason's hands apart. He'd be digging his nails into his palms without thinking. Danny looks over his hands, blowing a cold breath over them to soothe the ache.

"You focused on Sheila abandoning you. You saw how similar you were to a broken-down Willis. You took in the way Catherine deteriorated, the way the drugs made her chase the high instead of staying with you."

Danny's glowing green gaze sears into Jason, making him feel small and unimportant in the way that the stars make you feel. The enormity of space condensed into deep black pupils.

"You should have focused on the more important things: Willis’ love for Sheila, unanswered but enduring. Catherine choosing you, time and again, when she was just a stranger—when she didn't have to, until she couldn't anymore. Dick grieving you with the kind of anger that burns a whole world down."

Danny sighs, the medallion clicking into a spin, whirling at a speed that blurs.

"I'll ask you again: You see what you see, Jason Todd." Danny lifts a hand, snapping his fingers. "But do you ever think about what you don't?"

The platform below them hollows out, the sound of a snap echoing, before they fall in a glowing green light.

Jason doesn't really have time to scream when he tumbles down onto cold linoleum flooring.

"What the fuck?" Jason spits out, instead of thinking about Danny's words, "Where are we now?"

"Place called Nanda Parbat." Danny's voice floats above him, and when he looks up Danny's scanning their surroundings. It makes him tense up, joining him as he straightens up.

They're inside a room of some sort. A lab, maybe. There're a couple of large tubes, pods? The pods are all white, with only a small window high up to show what's inside.

"Why are we here?" Jason whispers as Danny floats towards one in particular.

"Damian Wayne was created using the DNA of Bruce Wayne and Talia Al Ghul, the daughter of the Demon Head of the League of Assassins." Jason lifts, no doubt Danny's telekinesis, to peer into the window Danny is gesturing to. "He is artificially aged up over the course of 2 months until he is developed enough as a toddler to undergo training as the heir of Ra's Al Ghul."

Through the window, Jason can see a baby floating in the glowing green water that fills the pod. It's a boy, with black hair and darker skin, pudgy hands clenched like fists. He looks about 2 years old.

"He'll be about four years old when he's let out," Danny continues, "And when he turns approximately 12 years old, his life at the League is threatened so he is sent to Gotham."

"Bruce has a kid?" Jason breathes out, thoughts racing in a loop. He has a kid, a real one. What will happen to Dickie? What will happen to him?

"He has several," Danny smiles, Jason can hear it in his voice even if he can't tear his eyes away from the baby floating before him, "But yes, Damian will be the only blood son."

"Dickie is one thing, but I don't count." Jason winces, "Not…not anymore."

Danny clicks his tongue, making a face. He grabs Jason and that tingling feeling washes over him again as they walk through several walls and floors until they're peeking through a floor to watch what looks like a training session from the ceiling.

It's a girl, he thinks. Short bobbed hair, black as night, skin pale just like Jason's. She looks about his age and is being harshly trained by a man who shares the same eyes.

They watch for only a minute or two before Jason feels the need to beat the shit out of the guy, Danny yanking him up and floating them through to the building's rooftop.

"Cassandra Cain." Danny explains, "born and raised as a weapon for her father, for the League. Eventually, she comes in contact with Bruce. The rest, as they say, is history. She's your one and only (legal) older sister."

The medallion whirs again, a portal opening up that Danny wastes no time pulling them through.

Jason is getting whiplash.

They step onto another rooftop, the air tasting familiar. Looking around, Jason recognizes the Narrows.

Danny points to a lit-up window, where they can see a small family having a raucous dinner. A man and woman, African Americans, sit across from each other pointing forks and laughing at each other. There's an equally dark-skinned toddler slapping at his high chair, smile wide and messy with baby food.

"That baby, Duke Thomas, goes through a war." Danny explains, "He carries the Robin mantle in the way that soldiers carry cigarettes, and becomes a beacon for Gotham. Bruce brings him in when his parents are unable to."

Danny grabs his hand once more, dragging him into a run across almost familiar rooftops.

He stops them and points at a dimly lit window, where you can just see a desk lamp lighting up the room.

"Stephanie Brown, by her own volition, never gets adopted." A girl opens the window to look out, crossing her arms and laying her head on them. Her blonde hair falls over her shoulder, blowing into the breeze as she searches the sky for stars hidden in the smog. "But her Robin brought a little bit of laughter, a little bit of fun, after years of hurt and pain."

Jason watches as Stephanie seemingly gives up, huffing a little and shutting the window before the light is summarily turned off for the night.

"You still haven't answered me," Jason whispers, volume just above the now humming whorl of the medallion hanging on Danny's neck. "Why are we here?"

Danny still doesn't answer, pulling them through the new portal to a rooftop. One that Jason is intimately familiar with from a different angle.

Jason looks to his left, to a rooftop just three buildings away, where his favorite gargoyle sits sentinel over Gotham. The sky is clearer than before, a different night from the Gotham they just stepped away from, ever-present smog no longer crowding the night sky.

The stars are still far away, but the moon is bright, like a spotlight highlighting Jason's favorite refuge.

"That's—" Jason starts to say, but Danny's arm stops him. He's pointing to the right, to a rooftop across the street.

It takes Jason a moment, several in fact, before he sees it. Before he sees them.

There's someone hiding in the depths of the shadows, small and eerily still. Jason wouldn't have been able to see them, if not for the reflection of a camera lens.

"Timothy Drake Wayne." Danny drops his arm, stopping Jason from taking any steps further out of the shadows they're hiding in, "Is too smart, too self-sacrificing, too self-deprecating, and too numb to the world."

"He takes Robin with a clenched fist, takes the brunt of a lot of hits, and honestly?" Danny chuckles humorlessly, "If it weren't for him, Batman would have been dead several times over."

As if his name summoned him, Batman grapples onto the scene, stopping just beside the gargoyle.

Jason flinches. He doesn't know how he knows, but this Batman is different from his Batman.

There's something desperate and…almost threatening about this Batman.

Like a hurt animal.

This must be after Jason's death, he didn't know that Bruce knew he had a favorite gargoyle, but he wouldn't be surprised.

Apparently, this Timothy character knew, so why wouldn't Batman?

Jason feels like he should be more surprised, or at least disturbed, that some random civilian knows this much about him. If Timothy knows Jason's favorite gargoyle, he must have been following them for a while.

He doesn't know what to feel, the whiplash cocktail of feelings swarming through his system. The truth about his parents, these future Robins and siblings, Dickie's rage and grief, and now he has to combat an apparent stalker turned sibling and a grieving Batman.

It's almost too much.

"After your death, Batman gets a little…violent." Danny's voice pulls him back, tugging him out of the shadows through another portal, away from the visage of a brooding Batman, too far away to hear the clicking of a camera.

"Tim asks Dick to come back first, having known your secret identities for a while now." They walk through a large hallway, similar to Wayne Manor, but without any of the personality Alfred works so hard to maintain. "But Dick refused, so Tim took it upon himself."

This mansion is sterile, straight out of a magazine. The paintings are impersonal and expensive, the decor is sparse but tasteful, and everything looks so…slate.

There's none of the warm wood tones Wayne Manor has, each book and decoration modern and cold and empty.

Danny brings his finger up to his lips to signal the need for quiet as they once more go invisible, phasing through a nondescript door.

It's a bedroom, a little cluttered and slightly messy, with more personality than the entirety of the rest of the Mansion.

Not that that's saying much.

The room is still way cleaner than Jason's, by virtue of just…a lack of things.

There's a bed, unmade crumpled, and a nightstand that houses a single alarm clock and lamp. A skateboard leans against the bookshelf, crammed to the gills with a variety of textbooks and nonfiction novels. A small pile of clothes crowds a half-full hamper, and Jason almost trips on a pair of shoes tossed at the closet door carelessly.

Nothing hangs on the walls, and the colors of the room range from blue to blue to blue.

The desk has a computer on it, with a screensaver being a newspaper clipping that Jason is intimately familiar with: The one single blurry photo of Batman and Dickie's Robin the Gotham Gazette managed to get. An empty mug stained with brown sludge sits on the corner of the desk, right next to what looks like two spare high-end cameras.

Someone lives here, clearly, but it still feels so…empty. Only hints of a person in a Mansion that screams of loneliness.

Danny tugs them over to stand near the desk, floating them up slightly at a good vantage point just as a door, different from the one they entered through, swings open.

A boy, dark-haired and blue-eyed just like Bruce. He's small, pale, and so concentrated on the strip of film in his hands that Jason's surprised he doesn't run into anything as he beelines to his desk.

The boy carefully starts to cut the film into negatives, placing them into a box he pulls out of a safety deposit box that had been hidden under his bed.

The box is full of negatives but in the dark Jason can't even hope to guess what's on them.

The boy then gets up to go to the bookshelf, pulling out a Textbook to reveal a second layer of what looks like photo albums behind, taking one and bringing it to the desk.

When he opens it, Jason is surprised to see most of the pictures are of him.

Of Robin, the second.

Holy shit.

Holy shit, he suspected but he didn't—This is Timothy Drake Wayne?

"What happened to you?" Timothy whispers to the Jason in the photos, "What really happened? Nightwing won't come back, and Batman…I have to do something."

Jason wants to say something, but he doesn't know what. He leans forward but is pulled back up through the ceiling once more.

"He's…just a kid." Jason says into the Gotham sky. He seems to be up here a lot, on this ghost adventure.

Jason realizes, for as much as Robin flies through Gotham, he's never really taken the time to just enjoy the sky. He's not sure he's in the right mind to do so now, but maybe when this is all over…

"You're just a kid." Danny points out before his voice goes low. "He's only two years younger than you."

That doesn't make sense. Jason is average-sized for his age, having bulked up under Alfred's care for the past year or so.

Timothy's a Drake, Jason recognizes the name now. They're…They're neighbors. For a given definition of neighbors when there’re acres between their mansions. 

Is that how the kid knows about them? Timothy is smaller than Jason was when he was still living on the streets.

"What time is it right now?" Jason asks as Danny conjures up another platform for Jason to lay back on. It's both harder and softer than he expected.

"Hmm…" Danny drifts around him once more, circling and circling. "I'd say about 9pm."

"…I don't think I've ever seen the Drake Mansion lit up, despite being neighbors." Jason keeps his volume low, maybe hoping for his words to get lost in the breeze.

"Well, there is a lot of space between Wayne Manor and the Drake residence." Danny reasons.

"It's 9pm, Danny." Jason's voice rises, slowly but steadily in heated reprimand. "It's 9pm, and his mansion is cold with no sign of any adult. He's two years younger than me. Where are his parents? Fuck, big house like that, where's the fucking babysitter? Or, or—or a fucking servant, whatever rich people fucking do!"

Jason pants, angry and tired and wrung out like a used towel. Danny lets him get his breathing together, the silence percolating like blood spilled from a ragged wound.

"I never liked Batman, y'know. Not really." Jason is getting real fucking tired of Danny's subject changes.

"Child soldiers, all of you." Danny continues, ignoring the way Jason hisses and rearing up for a fight, "And I was never much one for billionaires in the first place."

Danny drifts closer, coming to sit beside an irate Jason trying to keep his breathing even.

"But Tim?" Danny huffs out a little laugh, "I get Tim—I get the neglected parents, and feeling responsible for things beyond me, bigger than me. I get having unending curiosity and restless bones. I even get taking your mentors by the collars and shaking sense into them."

"I get taking the brunt and blame and the short end of the stick and still getting back up." Danny looks up to the sky, still so oddly clear, and sighs. "I get being the little guy."

Jason laughs humorlessly and disbelievingly. "Tiny Tim."

Danny snaps, pointing a finger at him with a cheeky smile. "Tiny Tim. Funny how it works out huh?"

"Does Tim…" Jason carefully asks, "Does Tim die in my future?"

"He doesn't—no rest for the wicked I suppose." Danny shrugs. "Not for lack of trying, you and Damian try to kill him at least once. Steph even tosses a brick at him."

Jason sputters.

Danny laughs, loud and raucous, before settling down and wiping a stray tear away. "He lives, all who come after him fail." Danny suddenly becomes very grave. "There are worse things than Death, Jason Todd. Take it from me. But whilst Tim may be self-sacrificing, he's always enjoyed the little things."

“Very poetic.” Jason sits up, bringing a knee up to lean his arm on. “Thematic too.”

Danny smiles, leaning back on his arms to continue watching the night stars barely visible through the city light pollution. “You asked me why we’re here. You’ve asked us who we are and how we know these things, and I told you the truth.”

Jason opens his mouth to say something, but is stopped by Danny’s glowing green eyes. “We’re ghosts, of a sort. Living, breathing ghosts here to show you a different way of life for the benefit of one specific individual.” Danny smiles sardonically, “The chance to ‘prevent your death’ was purely incidental.”

 Jason, for some reason, relaxes at that. He remembers Danny’s words from earlier in this long, long evening.

Your death, in the grand scheme of things, doesn't really affect much of anything at all.

Emotional whiplash be damned, he’s got a choice.

He has the power. 

“I wanted to show you what you would be losing if you started over.” Danny continues, “If you still decide to chase after Sheila, to die and come back remade, your memories of tonight will simply fade away.”

Danny starts to float, holding out a hand for Jason to take. He does so wordlessly.

“If you take the chance, then these people are what you will be losing.” Danny smirks, medallion humming as it starts to tick, “These people are the people you’ll have to find again.”

This time when they fall through the portal, it’s a familiar place and they’re already invisible.

Jason takes the cue and keeps his mouth shut as they float through Commissioner Gordan’s apartment to a familiar bedroom. 

Babs is sitting on her bed, legs tucked to the side to make room for Dickie, who is slumped kneeling on the floor beside her.

He’s using her lap as a pillow, resting his arms on her thighs and—and crying.

“I miss him too.” Babs is cooing at him, petting his hair, muttering nonsense and shedding tears herself. 

Jason feels a heat pooling in the back of his eyes, a sticky feeling clogging up his throat as he bites his lip to keep from making sounds. 

He’s shaking as he's pulled through the window, taking a familiar route back to the Manor. Danny keeps them invisible, gentle mercy as Jason sniffles and rubs at his face. 

“If–” Jason stutters out, “Did…did it have to be me? Couldn’t—couldn’t you guys have offered it to Dickie? Or Babs? Fix her legs?”

“She’s not broken, Jason.” Danny’s voice is soft, but firm. “Legs or not, Barbara Gordon endures and chooses her path. Batgirl might be retired, but it’s a mantle that can be picked up, and Oracle will live on to watch over Gotham.”

Cowed, Jason stays silent as they arrive at the Manor. 

They drift through the entrance of the Cave, and Jason’s about to ask why they’re entering this way when he’s interrupted by a sudden crash!

“Take it down!” Bruce’s familiar growl is yelling. “You had no right—”

“I will not allow you to forget, Master Bruce.” Alfie’s voice is smooth, cold. 

Bruce is breathing heavily, barely restraining himself. Alfie stands tall and stoic, as usual, against him, right in front of—

Is that his uniform?

It’s—it’s tattered and ruined.

Put up in a macabre display of a fallen soldier, a memorial of a battle lost.

Sometimes, Jason forgets that Alfie used to be a military man.

Before Jason can even fully understand the situation, they phase upwards, turning this way and that before he’s gently deposited onto his bed once more.

Jason, true to form, falls back to starfish on his bed again. 

“That was shitty of you.” Jason rumbles, “You didn’t have to—you didn’t have to show me that.”

“I did.” Danny argues, “Otherwise you’d try and say something stupid, like ‘Bruce doesn’t care’ or ‘I’m not actually his kid’ or whatever bullshit you think with that backwards brain of yours.”

“Hey!” Jason tosses a pillow at Danny. 

Danny, the asshole, lets it fall through him to hit his bookshelf.  “Bet you’re thinking something like I’m not even worth it.”

Jason wisely does not say anything to that, opting to curl up under his sheets.

“Dani gave you what you wanted to know. I gave you what you don’t know.” Danny sighs, a mechanical whir following it at an almost distant pace. 

“I guess Dan’s just gotta show you what you should know. Or maybe what future you already does know?” Jason stills at that, curling the blankets around him tighter and rolling himself into a little cocoon.

Danny chuckles mirthlessly when he realizes Jason won’t answer. “I thought it was the whole Red Hood thing you had going on, but you’re really just like that huh? No wonder Dan relates to you.”

“I resent that.” A low rumbling voice cuts in. Dan.

Jason peeks out from his blanket burrito to watch as Danny goes up to the larger man with a wide grin. 

“Dani did a number on him,” Danny reports with the kind of shit-eating tone only younger siblings can have. “And I didn’t help.”

Dan rolls his eyes. “Figures you guys would leave me to clean up your messes.”

“Refreshing isn’t it?” Danny’s grin goes sharp as he takes off the medallion, “To be on the other side of the equation.”

Dan groans, but obligingly bends down so that Danny can place the medallion around the older man’s neck. 

Danny then switches places with Dan, stepping halfway through the portal with only his upper body peeking out as his older counterpart floats down to stand next to Jason’s bed. 

Danny waves, changing his voice into this dramatic tone, theatre-like, “And now I leave you with the Ghost of Christmas yet to come!”

“You mean the future?” Jason chuckles tiredly, “Must I?”

The portal pops out of existence, Danny’s laughter echoing just a little bit with it in answer.

A Christmas Carol AU

Inspired by a prompt found in the @haunting-heroes-creative-games :) (i.e. back on my shit again)

When a 15 year old Jason, pissed at Bruce for taking Robin away from him, finds his birth certificate he realizes Catherine Todd is not his real mother.

Just as he resolves to go out and search for his birth mother, Jason finds himself accosted by three ghosts in his room, talking about A Christmas Carol of all things.

===

"So, what? We're gonna Christmas Carol him?"

Dan scoffs, crossing his bulky arms with an unimpressed look. "We hated that movie."

"I didn't." Dani chirps, disturbingly cheery, "I didn't see it!"

"We hate Christmas," Danny corrects, "But the movie was alright, and the logic is sound."

"I don't hate Christmas," Dani once again interjects cheerily, "I've never participated!"

"Sound my ass," Dan growls over her, throwing his hands up. "We don't even know this guy!"

"Minor detail." Danny insists, "Tuck can look him up."

"He's a fucking Bat, Danny." Dan scrunches up his face, pinching the bridge of his nose just like Vlad does when he's disgruntled with any of Dad's shenanigans.

"He's a Robin, actually." Dani pipes in, "And he's just a kid. How hard is it gonna be to pretend to be this kid's Ghosts?"

"You're a kid," Dan reminds her, crossing his arms, "And you didn't believe me when I told you sticking a fork in the outlet would shock you."

"I believed you," Dani sniffs haughtily, crossing her arms and pointing her nose up with a snooty voice, "The warning simply did not deter me from doing it anyway."

"We don't have to convince him we're his Ghosts, or even that we knew him before," Danny reasons, needling, "We just have to convince him that we're…"

He hums, pointing at Dani. "Past."

He points at himself, "Present."

He points at Dan, "Future."

Dani does a little cheer, arms up and twirling into the air before landing with her legs over Dan's shoulders, hands and head settling atop Dan's fiery, but harmless, hair. It flickers, before going limp into long white strands that Dani messes up by gently scrunching up the strands and running her fingers through them.

Dan lets her, huffing and looking weirdly like a downtrodden, wet cat. "Why am I future?"

"Because." Danny doesn't continue, because he knows it makes Dan annoyed. True to form, his scowl gets worse, like sucking on a lemon. They all know why anyway.

Dani grins, triumphant and knowing, letting her voice go real deep, "The future," she intones into Dan's hair, "is here."

"The future is now," Danny corrects her, but doesn't lose his smile, floating up to tuck a strand of her hair back behind her ear.

"The future is already here," Dan mumbles his correction, or is it a follow-up? "It's just not evenly distributed."

"How about you distribute some of those muscles, Gibson," Danny sighs, shaking his head "Waiting for puberty is such a drag, and we both know you didn't get the mass from Vlad's side of the family."

Dan makes a moue of disgust, but it serves him right. The consequences of his own actions, and whatnot. He looks up at Dani, who simply shrugs. "I think you'll do great." She leans down to give him two pats on the arm.

"So how's acting out A Christmas Carol gonna help us stop this Jason guy from blowing up?" Dani fiddles with Dan's hair, tongue poking out as she attempts a braid, "Will he even see us? Ghosts in this dimension taste funny."

"He'll be able to see us, it's magically rich enough for some ghosts to maintain a semblance of themselves," Danny explains for the third time. Dani and Dan hum at different pitches, and even though Danny is the common denominator he kind of hates that Vlad has more of a lasting impression on them. "The ectoplasm here is scarce and mostly corrupted, though, so it's rare."

"So there's lotsa bad ghosts here?" Dani eyes the messy braid she's made, proud, even as Dan's silky hair immediately causes it to fall apart, "Or 'mentally unsound' or whatever Frostbite called it."

"No," Dan grumbles, annoyed and indulging all at once, "Corruption begets ecto-rot, but the scarcity means they're not strong enough to actually retain their sense of self enough to rot."

"Shades," Danny explains when Dani looks even more confused, "There's lots of shades."

"Is this one of the Olympian dimensions?" Dani groans, flopping over Dan's shoulder as he sits down on the sofa, "I love Pandora and all, but if I see Zeus again I'm gonna lose it."

"It's one of the hero dimensions," Danny hums, taking over braiding Dan's hair the way Jazz made him when they were little, "There's a couple of Amazons walking about, but on the whole no Olympians."

"I don't know why he didn't just dump me in a Norse dimension." Dan leans back and closes his eyes to their ministrations. "Especially with my current occupation."

The three of them are sitting in Dan's apartment, a large loft studio located somewhere in the UK of the aforementioned hero-dimension. Alber-something, Danny can't remember. Doesn't need to, it being a different dimension from his anyway.

Dan doesn't have a lot of things: a sofa and TV, a bed in the corner, a decent but small kitchen. They're still trying to figure out decorations, but Dan on the whole is a minimalist so it's been slow going.

He's working as a bartender these nights, whiling away his odd existence now that his form has stabilized.

And wasn't that a trip? Learning that hey, adult lightning halfas shouldn't really be mixed with teenage ice halfas, actually!

Apparently, ectoplasm can become corrupted if you try to combine incompatible sources.

Apparently, side effects include (but are not limited to) unmitigated violence and a devastating need for vengeance.

Sound familiar?

"This dimension has a lot of time continuity errors," Danny reminds him, "Dropping you here gave the least amount of pushback."

"Yeah, yeah," Dan flaps a lazy hand, "Praise be the speedforce and flashpoints and whatnot."

"Plus," Dani adds softly, absent-minded as she watches Danny finish up the braid, "Lotsa heroes to help out if you relapse."

Dan heaves a slow, controlled sigh. Danny and Dani both pretend they don't notice.

"Is it bad?" Dan doesn't open his eyes, his voice is so low Danny can only hear him by virtue of his ghost powers, "Like me levels bad?"

"No." Danny shakes his head, leaning into his older self, his older brother of sorts, "He decapitated eight crime lords, killed a couple of assassins, maybe an innocent or two depending on your definition of things."

"Past tense?" Dan scrunches his nose. They all hate how confusing Time Shenanigans are.

"He's living as Red Hood, right this very moment."

"Red Hood?" Dani questions, "That his hero name?"

"Crime lord alias." Danny corrects her, "But he's more of a vigilante these days. Has a bat on his chest and everything."

"But it's bad enough to warrant a trip to the past." Dan points out, "Bad enough for us to try and persuade him. Does he relapse?"

"Not…exactly." Danny scrunches his face, not wanting to explain Clockwork's ambiguity.

Dani floats to spread over Danny and Dan's laps, sprawling out and purring like a cat. Self-soothing, though it's more for their benefit than hers.

"Like Dani said, there’re lots of heroes here, and he doesn't have powers." Danny continues, petting at Dani's soft hair, "The world doesn't end. He doesn't have the means to, even with the ecto-rot."

Danny pauses, and chooses his words deliberately and carefully. "And deep down, Jason Todd is a hero through and through. Relapse would be…difficult. His Obsession is similar to yours."

Dan lets that sit for a moment, but nods, Danny moving a little with the motion. The tension slowly bleeds out as they wait like that, enjoying each other's company.

"If the world doesn't end," Dani whispers, "Why is Clockwork sending all of us?"

Danny thinks on that, on his meeting with Clockwork. The Ancient's voice when he explained what would happen.

He thinks about Jason Todd, about Bruce Wayne, and Catherine, and Sheila. He thinks about Batman, and Robin.

He thinks about Dick Grayson and Tim Drake, about Damian Al Ghul, about Cassandra Cain, and all of Jason's Outlaws.

He thinks about a tattered uniform that stays up in a glass case for a long, long time.

Most of all, he thinks about Dan.

He thinks about regrets and one bad day away.

And then he stops thinking about it, because sometimes the past is the past, and other times, it's the future that never happens that haunts you instead.

"You know, Dani." He settles on, "I'm not sure. He probably has his reasons."

Dan leans heavier onto him, and they lean together like that, with Dani in their laps.

Ghosts of decisions made, unmade, and never to be.

Follow the story on AO3 here!

[chrystal-ink]

Shadvent calendar Day 24

Shadow x GN Reader

Mistletoe

Shadow was never one for PDA. in fact you two barley held hands whenever other people were around if he could help it. however, tonight the cocktails were flowing and the spirit of Christmas was in the air.

The two of you had managed to miss each other all night. getting wrapped up in conversations with other people, giving out gifts, and avoiding the mistletoe hung ever so delicately in the living room for all to see. You were consciously avoiding it knowing that Shadow did not want to kiss in front of a room full of his closest friends, coworkers, acquaintances, and sonic.

Still he looked so nice in his tux and you knew that he had been eyeing you all night. but attraction or not you were going to respect his boundaries, you would just have to make up for it later.

Shadow on the other hand was craving the touch of your lips right about now. Denied their rightful place upon his earlier in the evening his distain for witnesses was thrown to the wind. You looked incredible tonight and the world needed to know that you were taken, that your lips were for his and his alone.

unfortunately he was caught up in a meaningless conversation with one of his coworker's and he could not get out of it. he had to do something and quick. signaling to Rouge he requested her to get him out of there.

Luckily they had been working together for so long that she understood immediately what he was trying to communicate. Not wasting a moment Rouge swooped into the conversation ending it with grace.

"What do you need Hon?"

"I need to get over to Y/N, I have a matter that needs addressing"

"Is this about those lips you've been staring at all night?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business bat, but yes."

"Fine, I'll help you, but you have to do it over there." She pointed to the mistletoe hanging in the center of the room.

"What? Why?"

"Why? well you two have been together for so long and yet I've never seen the two of you give each other more than a peck. I just want to make sure you're doing it right, for Y/N's sake."

"You are a pain you know that right?"

"Just looking out for you doll."

Shadow weighed his options for a moment, if he tried to make his way across the room he was sure to run into more people and have to engage in more meaningless conversations. it would take at least an hour to get to you, and even then he would have to wait for your conversation to end before he could even attempt to kiss you.

Still to kiss in a crowd was one thing, to do it with everyone watching was another.

He gritted his teeth it wasn't like him to shy away from anything and he wasn't about to start now. He needed your lips and fast so reluctantly he agreed.

"You wont regret this, I promise." Rouge responded happy her little negotiation worked. She took out her phone and texted everyone her plan, all they had to do was get you under that mistletoe by any means necessary.

❄️

You were mid conversation with Amy when her phone went off.

"That's weird who could be texting you right now? everyone we know is here."

"Don't worry about it, it's nothing." she reassured quickly putting her phone away. "Say, why don't we look for some more of those delicious crab puffs I think I saw some over there."

"umm okay, I guess we could."

But before you could actually turn to go the opposite direction Sonic interrupted your conversation.

"Hey Y/N How's it goin? Say, is that cocktail for me? Thanks!" He took your drink and bolted across the room before you even had the chance to react.

"Hey!" you whined before following after him, it was a confined space and with all the people there he couldn't have gotten too far.

You followed him almost to the center of the room before he stopped turning back to you your drink still in his hands.

"What's the big idea? you can't just do that at a party."

"I had it under control Sonic" Amy called finally catching up to the both of you.

"Yah, but I was faster."

"What's going on you two?"

"You'll see." sonic replied "Sorry about this" He gave you a gentle push. Stumbling backward you almost fell thankfully, a pair of hands steadied you before you could reach the floor.

"Hey." shadow looked down at you giving you a handsome smirk.

"Shadow? thanks, but how did you-"

"Everyone! looks like we have our first two lovebirds under the mistletoe!" Rouge announced "Why don't you give them a round of applause?"

You looked up and saw the offending branch right above where you and Shadow were standing.

"Oh no, we don't have to if you don't want. I know you don't really like this stuff." you apologized.

"Don't be ridiculous, It's tradition." Shadow said grabbing you by the chin. "And besides with the way you look tonight I want everyone here to know you're mine."

And with that he kissed you it was passionate, full of love and devotion. he was getting the touch he so craved and he didn't care who saw it.

Once your lips had parted and crowed died down a little you looked into his crimson eyes and smiled.

"You know, you could have just asked for a kiss my love."

"Yes, but I wanted to make this one special."

You giggled placing your hands on his chest.

"Well then love, You accomplished your mission"

You gave him another kiss each of you smiling against the other's lips before rejoining the party hand in hand.

[biancadoes1]

The pic with the two drinks seems to be from her getting ready for that photoshoot in NYC. People don't show up gussied up for those things, simply showered and in clothes that are easy to take off for styling. We know he was with her for that because he took pictures of her getting her pictures taken lol. An assistant probably ran out to grab her some coffee and something to eat, she had a packed schedule. It really isn't that deep.

Imo the real story here is Antonia single white femaling Jade by buying the same clothes 😬

Let’s not give Antonia that much credit.

Also, I agree. The pic of her with the coffees is from, what I guess to be, NYC in October.

We all know who I think was on that trip 😏

[lavnderwonu]

book lovers | wen junhui

pairing: bookish!jun x bookish!fem!reader

genre: college au, strangers to lovers, fluff, smut

rating: mature

summary: working at your campus library and attending classes gets kinda lonely, until someone comes along and changes that.

warnings: contains smut (!!!), meet-cute, jun is tooth rottenly sweet (yes! that’s a warning!), semi public sex (in a library), unprotected sex, kinda sorta a quickie(?) idk its sorta rushed, bigdick! jun, size kink, oral sex (f. receiving), multiple orgasms.

mini playlist 🎵: into you by ariana grande, little bit by lykke li, feel you by okayceci

word count: 2.3k

author’s note!: AHHHH this was so much fun to write. i literally spent so much time daydreaming about this whole plot & the characters. im a little women enthusiast & a classic book lover, i know im a nerd! also i will always always find an excuse to write fluff. i just love love love writing cute shit! im sort of a sucker for it. THIS WAS IN MY DRAFTS FOR SO LONG TOO LMAO but as always, i appreciate any feedback, & i hope you enjoy! 🩷

click here to join my taglist!

“So… you’re assignment is to read the passage, then write a minimum 3 page essay whether you agree or disagree with the author’s viewpoint.”

Your professor gestures to the board behind him, emphasizing how important it is to acknowledge.

“Due by Monday, I won’t be giving any extensions. Class dismissed.”

“Y/n.” Your friend nudges you, as you currently have your face buried in your book, totally ignoring the lecture. “C’mon, class is over… did you even hear what the assignment was?”

You shut your book, Little Women, a book you’ve read numerous times but you never got sick of. It was a million times more appealing than hearing your literature professor ramble during a lecture.

“Yeah… some three page essay.” You remark, tossing the book in your bag. “I gotta hurry, I have a shift at the library for a few hours. Text me the assignment, okay?”

She nods. “Yeah, of course. I’ll see you later.”

You quickly grab your binder & notebook and walk out of class, headed for the library.

You’re about halfway there, until someone passing by bumps your shoulder, knocking your things to the ground.

Crouching down to pick them up, you hear somebody shouting sorry! in the distance as you mumble under your breath, “Doesn’t anybody watch where they’re going? Jesus…”

You’re gathering up some papers that fell out of your binder, until you spot an extra set of hands suddenly helping you, and a voice saying, “Let me help you with that.”

You look up, eyes locking with a tall, cute brown-haired boy, whom was now handing you your papers and notebook.

“Sorry, I couldn’t just walk by and not help. People can be so rude.” He smiles sweetly, handing over your papers he picked up. “I’m Jun, I’m in your literature class.”

“Y/n, and thanks, it’s what I get for not paying attention in lecture I guess.” You joke, finishing putting your stuff away as you both stand.

“How is Little Women?” Jun asks.

“I’ve read it before, it’s one of my favorite— wait how did you know that’s what i was reading?”

He laughs. “I saw you reading it in class, you have an incredible attention span. Quite impressive actually.”

“Last week, you read Jane Eyre, and during lecture Soonyoung came in late and the professor got mad, then they both got into this whole big argument, but you didn’t look up once, just kept reading. I’ve been watching you.

“Watching me?” You must have a confused, creeped out look on your face, cause the way he responds next makes you laugh.

“No, No, I don’t mean that in a creepy way like I’m watching you, I just mean that I noticed you, that’s all.”

You couldn’t help but blush, avoiding his gaze for a moment.

A cute boy like him noticed you?

“Laurie proposes to Jo and she says no, even though she’s still in love with him!” You exclaim, explaining your favorite book to Jun, as he holds it in his hands. “I cannot believe you never read it before.”

He shrugs, “I don’t read all that much.”

“We’ll, I think you’ll love it. The story is very enjoyable, and it’s not hard to read, which is surprising since it was written so long ago.” You continue.

“…Would your love for this book have anything to do with the fact that in both movies Laurie was played by Christian Bale, and Timothee Chalamet?”

“No,” You fail at attempting to hide your grin. “But it’s an added bonus. Christian Bale is a very underrated Laurie in my opinion, by the way.”

“Okay, I’ll read it,” Jun gives in, examining the book thoroughly and thumbing through it. “When do you need it back?”

“Whenever,” You say. “I don’t need it back by any certain time so you can take your time with it, and really enjoy it.”

“Oh, I know I will.” Jun smiles.

“Make sure you put these all away before you close up tonight,” Your library coworker tells you, as she gets ready to leave for the night. “Apparently the boss said she wants them out on display up front for tomorrow.”

“Okay, I’ll do it right now, before I forget,” You reply, retrieving the small stack from the counter. “I have to run those returns upstairs to reshelve.” 

You walk over to the front table just as you hear the door open. 

“We close in thirty- oh! It’s you.” Your coworker says, making you turn around to see who it was. 

It was Jun. “Y/n! Your boyfriend is here.” 

You smile at him as he walks over to you, “What are you doing here?” 

“I wanted to see if you wanted to do something tonight, maybe dinner… a movie?” He says, as he now towers over you & kisses your forehead. “You’re already dressed cute,” he makes note of your outfit. “I like that skirt.”

“I’m working right now…” You sigh.

“That’s okay, I can wait. I only have…” Jun checks his watch. “Oh, twenty five minutes now.” 

“Whatever,” You smile as you chuckle at him. “Just go sit at the desk, don’t mess up anything.” 

“Oh, before I forget, I brought your book back.” Jun starts as he sits down, reaching into his book bag. 

“There’s no way you already finished it. I gave it to you yesterday.” 

“I just wanted to leave you some notes in the margins for you.” Jun says, handing the book over to you.

You flip through the book, seeing how it’s littered with sticky notes and tabs, marking the different pages.

“You’ve read this before…” You glance over the notes written on a page. 

“A few times.” He smiles as your eyes meet his.

“I thought you didn’t read much?” 

“What is much…?” 

You lean in closer to him, kissing him. “You’re unbelievable.” You smile.

“You liked it? I was wondering if you’d be mad if I nearly defaced your book.” He says, with a chuckle.

“No, no, I couldn’t be mad,” You smile, playfully running your fingers through his hair. “Besides you didn’t actually write in it, if you did, that might be a different story.”

You kiss him one more time, “Well I have some stuff to finish really quick, wait here?” 

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine. I’m sure I can find something to keep me entertained for a few.” Jun remarks, picking up a book that was in the return stack on the counter.

You finish up the rest of your display, and the returns you had to put away (…even unfortunately stealing the book that Jun was occupying). Your coworker had left for the night and it was time to close up.

“Okay, that’s it for the night.” You announce to Jun, starting to gather up your things. 

“All done?” 

“Yeah, I think that’s- shit!” You realize you still had stuff to put away upstairs. “I forgot to put these ones upstairs.” You grab the few books.

“Come with me?” 

“You won’t be okay by yourself?” He asks, obviously joking with you.

“Cmon, it’s eerie when it’s so quiet, just cmon.” You grab his hand and nearly pull him to the elevator. 

“These few go over here,” You lead him over to the fiction section. “And these go… over here…” You start walking to the next aisle over.

You reach up to attempt to place the last book on the highest shelf, but you’re just a little too short.

“Can you help me?” You laugh, turning to the 6 foot man standing close to you. “I’m too short for this.”

Jun laughs with you, grabbing the book from you. “Where’s it go?” 

“Right next to that one, with the red cover.” 

He places it on the shelf, “Is that the only one?”

“Yeah, that’s all of them.” 

Jun moves to stand in front of you, conveniently trapping you between him and the bookshelf behind you. You mentally thank whoever designed the floor plan in the library to make the aisles so small.

He moves closer to you, nearly pressing himself against you, so close you can smell the cologne he has on.

“You know I can’t help but realize… we’re all alone here.” 

“Yeah… I know, it’s almost-“ You start, as you're cut off with him kissing you.

You moan against his lips as his hands slide up your cardigan sweater, and he trails kisses down your neck.

“Jun…” You moan, fingers tangling in his hair.

“Is this okay?” He whispers, kissing your lips again.

“Yes, very much.” You whisper, his face still close to yours. “But we can’t do this here…”

“Why not? There’s nobody here…” Jun whispers, as he kisses your neck a few times.

“The cameras, there’s cameras around here..” You say, then you grab his hand. “Cmon, in here.” You lead him down the hall down to one of the study rooms. 

You enter the dimly lit room, and shut the door behind you, but not before realizing how secluded and somehow intimate these rooms somehow are. Okay… mentally noted.

You sit on the table as Jun slots himself between your thighs, he’s kissing on your neck as he’s pulling your sweater off your body. He pauses to pull his sweater and t-shirt off of himself. 

Jun kisses your lips again, more fervently this time, as you’ve both become more eager.

“Lay back for me.” Jun whispers against your lips.

You kiss him again, tangling your fingers in his long hair as you lean back on the table, and you try not to giggle as his lips trail from your chest, and down your stomach, tickling you a little.

“God, you’re so pretty…” He mumbles into your skin, in between kisses.

You smile as you run your fingers through his hair once more, and you feel Jun’s hands side up your thighs underneath your skirt.

“Can I take these off?” Jun asks, eyes meeting yours as his fingers tug on the waistband of your underwear.

“Yeah…” you speak, lifting your hips to give him better access. You start to take your skirt off, but he stops you. 

“No… leave it on.” Oh. You can feel your face get hot.

After many times being in these study rooms, you couldn’t ever imagine that you’d ever be in here… like this, with a gorgeous boy as he’s taking off your clothes, yet here you are.

“Jun…” You sigh, as his hands are pulling you to the edge of the table, and pushing your thighs apart.

“This okay?” He questions, as he’s putting your legs over his shoulders.

“Yeah…” You breathe, nodding, as your hands find the edge of the table to grip it with anticipation. Afterall, you can’t see him with your skirt in the way… hmm, suppose it's all part of his plan.

“God, you're so wet and all I did was kiss you…” Jun says lowly, kissing your thigh gently as his breath fans over your core. 

You don’t even have a chance to respond before he’s bringing his thumb to your clit, circling it slowly a few times, making your breath hitch at the contact.

“Jun, please…” You whine, aching for more.

“Alright baby…” He all but mumbles back to you, and you feel his tongue slide over your clit, and you throw your head back at the feeling.

“Fuck…” Your brows furrow as your eyes flutter shut, focusing on the feeling. He groans against your clit as he slides two fingers inside you, making you arch your back and practically grind your hips down on his hand.

“Shit, baby…” You whine, as his fingers effortlessly reach your sweet spot repeatedly. “Right there… I’m gonna fucking come…” 

“Go on baby,” Jun pulls back, kissing your thigh a few times, all while his fingers don’t let up “C’mon…”

You practically cry his name, as you feel the orgasm rush over you, leaving your chest heaving as you catch your breath. 

“Are you ready, baby?” Jun whispers to you, as you hear rustling and the clink of a belt buckle as he’s undoing his jeans. 

“Yeah…” You whisper, finally catching your breath, but your breath hitches in your throat as he’s suddenly dragging the tip of his cock through your wet folds, the tip bumping your sensitive clit as you’re hinted at the mere size of him.

He slowly sinks into you, the stretch making your nails dig into his biceps. 

“Fuck…” Jun curses as he hovering over you, kissing your neck as he bottoms out, his thrusts shallow so you can get used to him.

“Jun… shit,” You moan, your fingers threading through his hair. “You’re too big.”

“You can take me.” His lips softly graze your collarbone, just as his hand trails lower and lower, until his fingers find your clit.

You whine his name, suddenly your senses are overwhelmed with the feeling of the pressure on your clit and his cock inside you, hitting spots so deep it almost has you seeing stars.

A particularly hard thrust nearly pushes you further up the table, making you nearly cry as you’re already on the edge.

“Shit, I’m already gonna come…” You cry, arching your back as you already feel the familiar tingle spreading through you, making your toes curl.

“C’mon…” Jun grunts, as his fingers find your clit again, and it feels divine with the way he’s pounding into you. “Come for me… give me one more…”

Your legs shake as you come with a loud cry of his name, he keeps going until he’s coming too, slowly rolling his hips to fuck you through your high.

You both say nothing for a few, catching your breath, until you fully register what you just did.

“Oh my god…” You say as you’re getting dressed. “I cannot believe we just did that…” You cover your face as you blush, but also can’t help but laugh.

Afterall, who would've thought?

“Why are you laughing?” Jun notices you trying to hide the fact that you’re blushing, pulling your hand away. “You didn’t like it?” He already knows the answer. 

“Yeah… but I never thought I’d do that, you know… here.” You smile right before you kiss him. 

“But that doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t do it again…”

tags: @chiefjunlover @cosmojinyoung @wonuwrites @aaniag @jenoslutie

[darthdaddi]

Kissing Santa

Warnings: MDNI, fluffy, smutty thigh riding, sweet kisses, slight food play (if you squint), Hayden is dressed as Santa Claus, short lil drabble :)

A/n: Eeee, I was thinking about writing a fic for Christmas and I came up with the idea with @bimbo-baggins17 🌚 I hope you enjoy the sweet and smutty story. Merry Christmas to those who celebrate, and happy holidays to all (*´∀｀*)

This is your third year as a little family with Hayden and your daughter. The two of you had the idea of dressing him up as Santa and record him being "caught" for your kid, Christmas magic of course.

Hayden came out with a displeased look on his face, fake gut under the suit comprised of pillows. "This feels ridiculous, damn beard is itchy.." he grumbled, pulling away the elastic beard away from his face to stratch the stubble underneath.

You giggled and leaned against the armrest of the couch, "You agreed to this Santa, plus it's only for a few minutes. Just take a bite of the cookie and drink some of the milk, put some of her presents under the tree and I'll have it recorded. It's not that bad."

Hayden rolled his eyes and smirked subtly, plopping down on his recliner across from you, "Yeah, yeah..." He muttered, eyeing the cookies and milk on the side table. They did look damn good, his wife was always a good baker.

He had this glint in his eye, watching you in that damn silk nightie you wore for bed, already feeling that familiar strain in the cheap crushed velvet fabric. "And what would you like for Christmas, little girl?" Hayden asked, putting on a hearty fake voice with a small chuckle of amusement.

"Really, Hay?" You murmured and giggled with a head shake, walking over to him and perched yourself in his thigh.

"Really." Hayden confirmed and nodded with mock seriousness, pulling down the white beard. "Because I could think of one thing I'd like for Christmas..." He muttered and pulled you down by the chin, capturing your lips in a soft kiss.

Happily obliging, you returned the kiss, but not without snapping a picture on your phone. After the pull back, you laughed softly, "I guess mommy really did kiss Santa Claus."

Your husband rolled his eyes at that one. Yeah he was usually corny, but that was just bad. "Well... Mommy can do a lot more than that..." Hayden trailed off, grabbing you by the hips as he began grinding your cunt against his thigh.

With a gasp, you were pawing at him with a slight whine in your tone "Hayden, no! We are supposed to be catching Santa Claus!" You'd protest in a hushed voice, but to no avail, Hayden had a smug grin and goal to meet.

"C'mon, it's just a lil break..." Hayden insisted, his grip unmoving. He could already feel the warmth emitting from your core, he wasn't dumb.

You feigned surrender, but let's be honest, you wanted some alone time just as much as he did, even with the Santa get-up. After a moment of reluctance, you began to shift your hips to the rhythm Hayden had already set.

"There ya go... Just let me guide you, that's it." He murmured, bringing his lips to your neck and leaving soft kisses in their wake. "Definitely on the naughty list.." he joked in a whisper, taking breaks in between kisses.

That earned a giggle from you, hands rested on his broad shoulders. It wasn't until when Hayden started bouncing his knee that you'd bite your bottom lip down to mask any noises you may let out.

The man smirked, looking over to his left to see the plate of cookies left out for the man in red. He grabbed one and brought it to your lips with a slight chuckle, "Open." He simply stated, nudging the delicious baked good at your lips.

You furrowed your eyebrows together in confusion, but opened your mouth anyway, just to have the cookie shoved into your mouth. "There, that'll keep you quiet..." Hayden snickered, making sure you were really ground down onto his thighs in slow, deep motions.

"Hay... I-.." was honestly the only thing you could conjur up as your tummy knotted up, fingers gripping at the red fabric of the costume. Hayden just sat back and watched you begin to unfold in front of him, keeping the rhythm he set for you.

Through the muffle sound of the cookie gag, you came undone quickly, moaning and groaning in satisfaction. "Merry Christmas, sweetheart." Hayden murmured and chuckled as he looked at the clock, 12:01, Christmas day. And he was just getting started.

[corvidexoskeleton]

Its extremely funny and mildly irritating seeing so many people get disgruntled about emmrich's approximate age vs. his appearance, because nobody can seem to agree if he looks younger than he should, if he looks his age, or if he looks older than he should

It mainly highlights something I was discussing with my sister the other night, which is that a lot of people don't have an especially good idea of what people tend to look like at different stages of life or ages. Part of this is definitely because of modern beauty standards, as well as social factors, expectations, and trends that differ from place to place

That being said, genuinely I think a lot of people just seem to forget that there is a LOT of variation when it comes to how fast or how well someone ages, and it can be influenced by your genetics, environment, stress, and countless other factors. You can't always tell how old someone is just based on their appearance, attitude, or how they act. Sometime it's possible to get a good idea or guess, but there's always going to be people who age very well and look much younger than they are, and also people who age poorly and look much older than they are

Whether or not you believe the bioware devs and ms. Sylvia with regards to emmrich's age, I think you have to keep in mind the fact that he works and essentially lives in an underground city-sized crypt and probably doesn't get a lot of sunlight. He's fastidious and extremely particular about his appearance, and probably his health, too, given his thanatophobia. And he's a busy guy! He's a researcher, a scholar, a teacher, and has his own fair share of responsibilities around the necropolis. I think these are all extremely relevant factors that some people don't seem to be taking into consideration when it comes to discussing if he "looks his age" or not

And about him being overdramatic about his age and acting like he's on death's door... I think some people are genuinely overstating the case based on a few interactions in game. But I also do think that him being a diva about his age is entirely in character, because his entire thing is that he has a severe fear of dying. It doesn't matter if he gripes about his age constantly (which he doesn't) or if he only brings it up on occasion (which he does), because the entire point is that he's terrified of dying, and people notoriously DIE when they get older

Does emmrich look his age? Do the people at bioware not know what people in his supposed age bracket look like? Do the people claiming he doesn't look his age know what people in his supposed age bracket look like? Does it really matter if he "looks too young" or if he "looks too old"?

Can you really not imagine a scenario where someone like him could theoretically look and act the way he does at his age?

[mihachansstuff]

So I finished reading a danmei novel for the very first time (it's SVSSS)

Spoiler Alert

(And incoming rant...)

So I just finished reeading the volume 4 of SVSSS, and even before i finished it i knew i have to talk about it and let my thoughts out somehow and here we are. My danmei journey started not too long ago with MDZS donghua before i found myself buying physical copies of SVSSS. Although my first novel was 2ha but I read till volume 6 to keep it on hold and finished this one instead.

Now that i am done, before i make it too long i will just leave some snippets of audacious thoughts here which may or may not be agreed upon -

I really wanted to like LBH, but in the end I just couldn't, some parts and traits of his character just don't sit well with me. I mainly hate his manipulative part, and I just don't understand why someone like Shen Yuan/SQQ falls for it again and again.

Zhuzhi lang is indeed a lovable character, but I just can't forgive him for killing Gongyi Xiao. The only time I shed tears while reading this novel was when we hear about his death and how SQQ was then remembering how GYX told him he would visit his peak after everything is over. (I was still holding on to that hope that he will be miraculously alive *sob*)

I found Tianlang-Jun to be a decent character, even more decent than his own son. I mean, yeah LBH went through traumatic periods but TLJ also went through miserable times while sealed. But in the end he just let all of it go while his son kept getting jealous and vicious towards every human being close to SQQ.

SQH and MBJ is a good ship. I would love to know more about them I need more Moshang content (this everyone will agree i know)

In that one interview chapter at volume 4 SQH's comment about Bingqiu being the kindergartner and his teacher, I can't agree more. Also his comment about how dating LBH must be exhausting and annoying was so true that I just don't understand why SQQ accepts all this 😭😭

I wish I could learn more about Liu Mingyan's thought process while writing Regrets of Chunshan.

I saw a Youtube comment that said - "In SVSSS, almost every character can be shipped with SQQ" and I couldn't agree more! SQQxYQY, SQQxLQG and etc. all are good ship material.

I felt like there were more background plots that could be explored (like what happened to Huan Hua Palace after, or how TLJ was doing, or some more info and background about certain characters etc). In this way I feel like Shen Yuan, heh

The novel art is pretty, but the way LBH was described about his looks and beauty, I somehow didn't feel it through the art. My fav character ranking according to art would be Tianlang Jun→Mobei Jun→SQQ, even though I really like curly hair.

At this point people might think I am a LBH hater, but really I am not, or at least I don't want to be. But I just really think SQQ deserved a better peaceful life at CQ Mountain, around his disciples and sect brothers that really adore him like a family. I really hated the ending in Vol 3 where SQQ left the mountain with LBH in this respect. Well at least in vol 4 it said that the two come to the mountain from time to time so I guess I can calm down a bit.

I really, really like Shen Qingqiu. He's a diva. But I just don't understand...some of his choices. But I guess I will just leave it at that.

This is my first time finishing a danmei novel as I mentioned already, so please go easy on me, even though I may have said things that might spark an argument. Overall I think it was a good experience and I'm looking forward to reading more novels. Feel free to give me some recommendations!

[nuggeteri]

hello hello i see you are a flower ranchers enjoyer, i am The flower ranchers guy would you like to talk abt them :>

Oh my god I was writing you a one-shot and my fucking website just fucking glitched and erased all of it. Welp. Back to writing I go (another concept though because I am not rewriting the same shit twice)

Also my DMS are open if that's what you meant :333

.

"Are you sure?" Jimmy asks, looking from right to left---almost worried to be getting caught.

Scott doesn't know why he even bothers. They're in the BamBunker and it really wasn't that big. It could all be seen from one look. He guesses it only emphasized on how anxious Scott was about the idea.

Scott doesn't think it should be against the rules if it's his power. He nods.

"Well, okay, but you can't say I gave you permission, alright?" He warns and Scott knows that Jimmy wouldn't do anything even if he didn't listen. Scott agrees anyway. "Yup. Sure. Now let me."

With only minimal sounds of protests, Jimmy turned around, back facing Scott, which the shirt the blond was wearing having two rips, allowing golden small wings to pass through.

Scott knows he could've stolen Grian's wings. They were bigger and would probably get him more success. Pearl would've let him without a second thought. He could probably coherse Martyn. While Lizzie's were fake, they could certainly do the job. But if he chose anyone other than Jimmy, then they wouldn't be getting all red, hot and bothered and Scott having his hands in their wings.

"You've grown some blue feathers." He remarks as he passes a hand through them. Jimmy hiccups, gasps and chirps before managing to answer him--- "Yeah..- I guess? I mean, look at me! Still standing!" He wasn't a canary anymore,Mumbo and Skizz are indeed dead. Scott can give that to him. "Proud of you, Petal."

He passes his hand through a few more of the new feathers before activating his powers. He's not even entirely sure if it would work, but at least, trying it gave him an excuse to pass his hands over Jimmy's soft wings.

It does work. It's not painful, per say, more of uncomfortable to have his back torn off to let wings pass through, but oh well.

It also ripped his shirt and jacket--oh well. He could always ask Cleo to sew it back together afterwards. She wouldn't say not to her soulmate.

"Did it work?"

Scott chirped---it didn't come as a surprise for him, he remembered how being an Avian was from Empires season one-- and it was all Jimmy needed to get his question answered. He chirped back, and oh gosh, not only had Scott missed these Avian instincts, but it made him feel fuzzy to have his partner respond.

He doesn't show it, though. That's Jimmy's thing, as he got redder and redder by the second.

"Aww, Jimmy, are you flustered?"

"Go and catch Tango!"

Right--- because this was also what it was all about. While Scott wanted to run his hands through his boyfriend's unused wings, he also wanted to catch up on his other boyfriend who had been running all around the server not to get caught.

He knew, logically, that Tango would stop for him if he asked. After all, he was still green, and therefore not allowed to attack him. However, that wouldn't be fun.

"I'll send kisses from you his way, then!" He says before flapping his new wings and getting out of the bunker without using the ladders--which he could hear his boyfriend complaining about.

He doesn't care--- he has a mission. Find Tango.

It's not that hard. The Bamboozlers' mountain already gave a good overall view of the server--flying slightly higher made it incredible.

Tango was running circles around Spawn.

Scott dipped and glided all the way over there.

"Hey, snowbug!" He called out.

"AAAH!" Tango screams---a little loud, which makes Scotts newly obtained head wings flap back in surprise, but other wise, doesn't hurt a fly.

"Since when have you gotten wings?" He asks, flabbergasted.

"Jimmy gave them to me. Powers, remember? I can steal people's hybrid status."

"That is---amazing! Oh my, can you become a blaze hybrid?" Tango proposes and---well, it's not like Scott hadn't already considered it. There were cultural and biological traditions he and his partners couldn't practice. Like wrapping someone around a wing for Jimmy, or have flames intertwine for blazes. He wanted to try all of that. But not right now.

"Later, bug," he informs him, "You've already stolen from me!"

Tango's fire seems to spark at Scotts words---something that he finds absolutely adorable. They were all excited.

"How so?" He still manages to get out.

"Ice is my thing. It's the second time you steal it!"

-

I did get lazy towards the end soryyyy it's soon to be four AM....but flower ranchers

[sagegreenconverse73946]

Analysis of Would You Fall In Love With Me Again

No no because you don't understand . . . .

There's like 3 ways I look at Penelope and Odysseus's reunion in Would You Fall in Love with Me Again

One:

Odysseus is pleading with her, begging her to understand that he is not the same man she married. He's done horrendous things, he is void of mercy and compassion. He. Is. Not. Odysseus. And that's why he's asking her if she would fall in love with him after knowing all the things he's done. He thinks she will have to fall in love with a different person. And hearing this instead of Penelope going like, " I don't care about what you've done; you're home now. That's all that matters." She instead asks him "What have you done?" she knows that he just has to get it out there, and once he does, once he thinks he's cemented to her that he's not Odysseus, Penelope's response is that "If that's true, if your not my husband, if your nothing more than a monster and not Odysseus, than do me a favor to bring me some peace and move our wedding bed away from here." And we've established that the wedding bed, the olive tree, is a symbol of their love, so Penelope's really asking, "If that's true and you're not my husband anymore, then destroy our love and cast it away." AND WHEN ODYSSEUS GOES, "How could you say this? Do you realize what you have asked me? The only way to move it is to cut it from ITS ROOTS!" which translates to "How could you say this? Do you realize you have asked me to destroy our marriage? The only way to move it is to KILL OUR LOVE!!"

AND ITS SO IMPACTFUL BECAUSE PENELOPE IS PROVING TO HIM THAT EVEN IF HE HAS CHANGED, HE IS STILL HER HUSBAND BECAUSE HER HUSBAND WOULDN'T DARE TO DESTROY THEIR LOVE AND CUT ITS ROOTS, AND THE MAN IN FRONT OF HER DOESN'T DARE EITHER, IN FACT HE'S ENRAGED THAT SHE'D ASK HIM TO FORSAKE THEIR LOVE, TO DO THE IMPOSSIBLE. BECAUSE IF HE TRULY WASN'T ODYSSEUS ANYMORE HE WOULDN'T HOLD THAT LEVEL OF LOVE FOR PENELOPE ANYMORE. AND THAT'S WHY SHE SAYS

"Only my husband knew that, so I guess that makes him YOU!!"

Penelope dismantled his whole argument. He asked if she would fall in love with him again, the new monstrous man that holds Odysseus's face. Penelope proved she didn't have to fall in love with him again, since he is still the man she knew, because if he wasn't the man she fell in love with, than that monster would have been able to destroy their wedding bed, and cut the roots of their love. But he is, because the man she married can't destroy their love, ODYSSEUS can't destroy their love,

their love is such a vital essence of his being that no matter what, if he still holds love for Penelope he is still Odysseus.

AND PENELOPE STILL SAYS SHE WILL FALL IN LOVE WITH HIM OVER AND OVER AGAIN

Two:

More Odyssey-accurate, I think. (I haven't read it through yet so I might need to eat my words)

Penelope asks, "Is that really you?" and it could be that she thinks its a trick at first, someone's disguised themselves as Odysseus mortal or god so she tests him. She asks him to do something only Odysseus and her knew was impossible, because for one man to cut down an Olive tree embedded into a palace alone is, quite literally, IMPOSSIBLE. If he had agreed and failed, mortal disguised as Odysseus. Succeeded? God.

Flabbergasted that she'd ask that of him? Odysseus.

Three:

EPIC Odysseus is the #1 Wife Guy, so when his wife asked him to do something that he physically COULDN'T, he broke down because GODS, NO, I'M A HORRIBLE HUSBAND BECAUSE I CAN'T FULFILL MY WIFE'S WISHES AND BRING HER SOME PEACE BUT PENELOPE WTF HOW COULD YOU ASK THAT OF ME AND EXPECT ME TO ACHIEVE IT?!?!?!

But yep, how I interpret those lines, honestly, I think its a mixture of all three MAINLY of perspective 1, a little bit of perspective 2, but l think despite Penelope's brain being like "We have to make sure." every essence of her being already knew it was him, and a slight hint of perspective 3 because it's funny.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk!!!

(pls discuss this with me if you want in the comments, guys I'm going insane)

[cinnaleaf]

「 Fall For You | A Very Merry Footballer Ficmas 」

summary: your crush takes you to santa’s hometown where he falls for you on a skating rink – literally.

warnings: really, really cheesy fluff, dominican slang, language 🎅🏾: even the best gifts come with a little falling | pt 5 of my ficmas series wc: ~2.7k

You weren’t sure why you agreed to coming to a Christmas themed village to ice skate with Alejandro. It could’ve been the way his eyes lit up when he suggested it, or the fact that he was really good at convincing you to do things you wouldn’t normally do because of his dazzling smile. Either way, you were here now – lacing up your skates and standing on the edge of an ice rink that looked like it was a set piece to a Christmas movie.

The two of you were visiting Rovaniemi for the weekend as a last minute trip he planned to escape Barcelona during the holiday break. The snow fell lazily and settled on wooden poles that were glowing with Christmas lights crisscrossing above the rink. There were families and couples circling the rink with all different levels of skill. Some were gliding around like ice fairies while the others were wiping out everytime the skate touched the ice. The stalls on the sides of the market sold mugs of mulled wine, spiced gingerbread, and waffles slathered in chocolate. It smelled like the epitome of Christmas – cinnamon, sugar, chestnuts roasting on an open fire, and frosty air biting at your nose.

Alejandro stood beside you, fumbling to pull his knit beanie lower over his ears. He stared at the ice curiously. “You know I’ve never done this before, right?” he asked, side eyeing you with a small smile that didn’t really mask the nerves he was trying to hide.

“That makes two of us then” you replied, nudging him with your elbow. “You wanted to come here though. Don’t back down now.”

Alejandro rolled his eyes and muttered something in spanish that you didn’t catch because you were too distracted by a little girl skating on the ice. She wore a pink beanie with a fuzzy pom pom on top paired with a pink glittery scarf as she zipped through the ice. She did a little spin and grinned at both of you, then skated off before you could process the type of skill she had for such a tiny body.

“Oh, she’s showing off” Alejandro said while shoving his hands in his coat pockets.

“Maybe..but it can’t be that hard to skate on solid ice.”

“If you say so....”

The rink wasn’t super big, it was cozy enough to feel magical, even if you lacked the skating ability threatening to ruin the picture perfect postcard illusion. You heard chatters of a group of older women handing out skates while sipping mugs of hot chocolate as you entered the rink.

“Do you think they have insurance...like if someone breaks a leg or something?” you asked.

Alejandro snorted and grabbed your hand while both of you shuffled to the edge of the rink. “Only one way to find out.”

Alejandro stepped on the ice first, still gripping your hand like it could save him from falling. You followed shortly after, gripping onto the rail with your free hand as your skates wobbled underneath you.  The moment his skate touched the icy surface his body jolted forward and he froze, flailing his arms out to balance himself. He looked over his shoulder at you with wide eyes like he was betrayed.

“So...they don’t do balance conditioning in training I guess…” you joked, stepping onto the ice with what you hoped was a lot more confidence than what you felt. The ice was...solid. But it was also slick and unforgiving to anyone who didn’t know to coordinate properly with the slipperiness of it. Your ankles wobbled instantly, and Alejandro tightened his fingers around yours.

“Don’t make any sudden movements” you said, mostly to yourself because you were too scared to move.

Alejandro laughed. “Are you the police? It’s just a skating rink.”

“No. This is a disaster waiting to happen. Look at us.”

The two of you inched forward and Alejandro’s free hand gripped the rail so hard his hands were cramping. A younger boy skated past, showing off as he hopped to one leg, making Alejandro’s hand twitch in response.

“You better not” you warned, knowing exactly how competitive he was.

“I wasn’t going to do anything” he lied while side eying the showoff who couldn’t have been older than 10 years old.

The snow picked up and flurries brushed up against your cheek while also settling onto his beanie. He looked over at you, grinning despite the chaos of neither of you knowing how to ice skate. “This is fun though...right?”

“Yeah. If you have a humiliation kink.”

Alejandro’s laugh echoed across the rink. “You’re so dramatic.”

Before you could reply, his skate slid out from under him and he instinctively reached out for you in the process – meaning both of you went down like a pair of dominos. The ice was cold and wet against your knees when you landed on the ground. You were mortified, yet Alejandro thought it was hilarious.

“Are you good down there?” an older man called out in a thick Finnish accent from off to the side. “That one looks like it hurt!”

“We’re fine!” Alejandro yelled while waving the man off, his other hand was still gripping yours as you both tried to regain a semblance of dignity. “Ay coño (oh damn), are we really that bad at this?”

He started laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe, tipping his head back as he sprawled on the ice in a snow angel position. You weren’t doing much better. Your hands were pressed against the freezing surface and your knees were tucked as you tried to push yourself up. But every time you moved, your skates fell under you and sent you sliding sideways.

“I swear you’re useless” you huffed, but you were slightly smiling.

“Me?” he shot back, propping up on his elbows. “What did I do?”

“You dragged us here knowing damn well neither of us know how to skate.”

“I thought it was a good idea.” he said between chuckles while still trying to get off the icy floor. “We’re bonding. It’s romantic.”

“This is not romantic” you argued, flopping back onto the ice as your legs wobbled again when you tried to get back up. “We look dumb. No one else here is struggling this much! I can’t even get up!”

Just then, the pink scarf girl gracefully spun past you, twirling on her skates like she was a ballerina on ice. Alejandro scoffed, not believing his eyes. “Yeah, she’s doing that on purpose. That little girl is a paid actor.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the blooming warmth in your chest from how handsome he looked, even if he couldn’t skate and looked like Bambi right now. His beanie was crooked and there were snowflakes dusting over part of his curls that weren’t covered. 

Alejandro shifted to sit up just as the girl executed another flawless spin. “She’s pissing me off” he jerked his chin toward the little girl. “Is she practising for the winter olympics or what?”

“She’s like 8 years old” you contested, wiping your damp hands on your coat while glaring at the skates as if it wasn’t your terrible coordination keeping you on the ground. “You’re beefing with a literal child.”

“I’m not beefing” he answered way too defensively for someone not beefing. “She’s just making us look bad.”

“Um, no. We’re making ourselves look bad” you deadpanned, bracing your hand on the ice to try and stand up again. That was a mistake. A big one. The moment you shifted to move, the skate slid out and you went down again with a dramatic thud. Alejandro started laughing so hard he started wheezing and rolling on his side like it was the funniest thing he ever saw. “You’re not as graceful with your falls like I am.”

“Shut up and help me!” you snapped, but you really wanted to laugh too.

“Alright! Chill out on me, don’t yell.” He got up and scooted toward you in a penguin shuffle type movement. “I’m coming to the rescue.” He reached out again, tightening his fingers around yours like he was about to get it right this time around. For a second you thought it may actually work....until his other skate slid and gravity pulled both of you down again. You both hit the ice with a thud, tangled together in an awkward mess.

“You are sooo bad at this” you wheezed, clutching your stomach because you couldn’t stop laughing.

“Me?” Alejandro’s head shot up with a grin full of teeth and mischief. “You keep bringing me down every time!”

“You literally dragged me down first” you shot back, swatting at his arm playfully.

“You could’ve stayed up!” he argued, gesturing wildly. “There’s railing all over. You’re supposed to hang on to that and be my support system!”

You squinted at him, trying to hold back your laughter and failing miserably. “How am I supposed to support you when you can’t even stay upright for 5 seconds?”

Alejandro’s jaw dropped and he shook his head. “That’s not true. I’m athletic.”

“Maybe on the pitch but definitely not on ice.”

Alejandro side eyed at you, offended. “Tu si hablas mierda (you’re chatting shit)” he muttered under his breath while shaking his head.

“Say it again louder so I can hear it” you challenged, sitting back on the ice like you had all the time in the world.

“Nah” he said while grinning. “You don’t need to hear it but it’s the truth. You’re talking nonsense.”

You rolled your eyes and let out a groan. “Ale..you’ve been on the ice for less than 20 minutes and you’ve been on the ground for most of them.”

“Damn” He placed a hand on his chest like he was so hurt. “Tu ves? (kinda like ‘oh yeah?’) This is why I can’t take you anywhere. Always coming for me.”

“You dragged me here! I wanted to do the reindeer safari instead!”

“Yeah but I thought this would be cuter” He gestured toward the snow falling gently around you. “The lights and the snow...it’s romantic, no?”

“No. We literally look like two penguins who’ve never been on ice before.” you scoffed, trying to shuffle back onto your knees but it was no use, you were failing miserably.

Alejandro threw his head back and started laughing at you. “Nah, chill. Penguins are elegant. We’re a lot worse. We look like those inflatable things at car dealerships.”

“Well...you’re not wrong about that” you bit back your grin as he reached out for your hand to try and help you up, but you didn’t trust him at all.

“If you make me fall again I swear…” you warned while eyeing him suspiciously.

“Relaxxx. I got you. De verdad. (forreal)”

You reluctantly let him pull you up to your knees and it seemed like you may actually be able to get up for once, but then he lost his footing again and he yelped, toppling forward to take you down with him again. Alejandro groaned dramatically, sprawled on top of you like he was so done with life. “Maldita sea, pero esta vaina me quiere matar! (damn this shit is trying to kill me)” he muttered while shaking his head.

“Aww” you giggled while trying to pull him off, but he was too busy pouting about his latest fall. “Are you okay?” You were trying to sound serious and be helpful but the fact that he literally couldn’t get up without falling over again had you in stitches. 

“No.” he grumbled, lifting his head just enough to glare at you while also pouting like a child. “This shit hurts.”

You rolled your eyes and brushed some snow that had accumulated on his curls due to his beanie falling off in the process of the fall. “Awww pobrecito (poor baby). Sana sana colita de rana (heal heal little frog)” you started a nursery rhyme meant for children when they got hurt in a teasing tone, rubbing your hand over his shoulder like you were fixing his imaginary injury.

“Yo stop. That’s for little kids. You’re making it worse!”

You ignored him, finishing the nursery rhyme just to piss him off. “Si no sanas hoy, sanaras mañana (if you dont heal today you’ll heal tomorrow).” you sang softly while still rubbing his imaginary wounds, though it was mostly his pride that was injured.

He smirked at you as his pout twisted into a smile. “Tu ere mala loco (you’re crazy). You know that, right?”

“I’m helping!” you gasped in shock.

“Nah tu ta pasa (you’re doing too much). You’re embarrassing me.”

You kissed your teeth at his dramatics, poking his shoulder dramatically. “No. You’re embarrassing yourself and I’m trying to soften the blow. You’ve been on the ground more than you’ve been on your feet. Just get up without thinking about it too much.”

Alejandro huffed and braced his hands on the ice as if he was preparing to get up, but he was still very clearly thinking about it too much. “Aight. I’m about to get up this time. No overthinking.”

“And probably no balance either.” you teased, reaching out to brush your hands over the earring in his ear. “How can you dribble in rain during a match but not manage a single step on ice?”

“Different terrains. And grass isn’t this slippery.” he contested, tilting his head a little so your fingers would brush against his skin.

“Mmm..sounds like an excuse to me but okay,” you muttered while still playing with his earring.

“Keep playing with my ear like that and I’m staying down here on purpose.”

“Don’t tempt me” you replied, smirking while giving his earring a flick.

The corners of his eyes turned into a smize as he widely grinned at you. “Nah you’re a distraction.” He shifted around to push himself up again. “Watch this. I’m about to–”

He fell again. No grace, no coordination or balance at all. He came crashing down right back onto you and you bursted out laughing again.

“You’re so bad at this. The reindeer safari was a safer option.”

“This ice is just plotting against me” he complained, but he wasn’t all that mad judging by the grin on his face.

“No..that’s all you.” You wiped away the water from the melted ice on his face, but this time he leaned into your touch a little more. Neither of you said anything else as the skates whizzed past and the laughter from the rink carried through. The only thing you were focused on in that moment was how close your faces were and the sight of your breaths in the cold, frosty air. Alejandro’s eyes flicked to yours, meeting your gaze.

“You have snow on your lashes” he murmured, reaching up to gently brush the flakes away with his thumb.

“So do you” you whispered back.

A single snowflake drifted down from the sky and landed directly on your bottom lip. Alejandro’s gaze followed it, his breath visible in the cold as he leaned in.

“I got it,” he said softly. His lips brushed against yours, melting the snowflake while also stealing the breath from your lungs. The kiss wasn’t anything awkward or rushed, it was perfect and warmed you in the best way despite the cutting chill of the finnish air. Alejandro pulled back just slightly, licking over his lips but still close enough to steal another kiss if he really wanted to. He was widely grinning now. “Dime princesa (tell me)” he murmured in a teasing voice. “Is this romantic enough for you now?”

You giggled softly, shaking your head as your fingers brushed over his cheeks, still damp from the melting ice. “I think you made your point.” Your cheeks were hurting from all the laughter and smiles but you couldn’t deny this was sort of romantic...in a really bad, cheesy rom com sort of way. “But do a little research next time so we can have romance without all the bruises.”

Alejandro chuckled as he shifted to lay back on the ice, neither of you getting up as you both stared at the snow fall from the sky. There were a lot more skaters circling around you now as they zipped past in their own little world.

“Alright. Reindeer safari next time. But you have to admit this was worth it for the kiss..”

You smiled, flicking a bit of snow off his nose. “Maybe…. but you really should work on staying upright though.”

Alejandro smirked, leaning in to melt away another snowflake that landed on your lips. “Nah. I’m okay with falling. Especially if it’s for you.”

[backseatsoldier]

Let It Snow

Pairing: Valeria Garza x Reader/You CW: OOC Valeria (I've never written her before, I'm sorry-); bar fight; sweet things Author's Note: Happy holidays, @demothers-empty-blog! Thank you for letting me feed your brain worms over König things - they always make me smile. <3 (I'm sorry this took so long </3)

This bar is going to make a shit ton of money tonight, that's for damn sure. An entire bar getting snowed in? Yikes for the patrons; great for business, though.

Valeria sips her Dos Equis while seated at the bar. Mobile service is basically nonexistant and the wifi is down. Not a shock, really - it's a really bad storm. And it showed up out of nowhere.

So the bar fight happening right now comes as no surprise. Alcohol and being snowed in? Recipe for disaster.

Valeria watches the bartender hop over the bar. When she reaches for the shirt of the guy who started for the fight, Valeria also jumps into action. Between the two women, they manage to separate the drunk guys.

The insigator of the two currently has his hands pinned behind his back and has his face shoved against the wall.

"I said stand down," the bartender hisses at him. Then she drags him to a corner booth and pushes him in. "Stay here. You're cut off and if I catch you anywhere near another patron again tonight, I'll lock your ass up in the cooler in the kitchen."

While that all goes down, Valeria has the other guy on his knees waiting his turn. When the bartender makes her way back over to them, she locks eyes with Valeria and nods before looking down to the guy.

"You good, Vinny?" she asks in a still stern but gentler tone.

"Yeah. I'm good," he slurs slightly but otherwise seems to have calmed.

"Jack on about her again?"

Vinny nods solemnly and hangs his head. The bartender looks back up to Valeria and motions for her to let him go. Slowly, Valeria releases the man. The bartender leads him to the bathroom then returns with a heavy sigh.

"Thank you for the back up. It's not always easy to break those two up when they get going like that."

"It was no problem," Valeria nods. "Not like I was really doing anything else right now anyway," she adds with a chuckle.

The two wander back towards the bar, bartender taking place behind the bar again and Valeria settling back on the stool.

"Can I get you anything? On the house, as thanks. Shot of tequila maybe?" the bartender offers.

"Tequila because I'm Mexican?" Valeria smirks.

The bartender's face turns bright pink and Valeria can see the panic filter in.

"Fuck- No, I- shit. That wasn't- I'm sorry," she finally settles on the apology.

Valeria breaks out into a true laugh and shakes her head.

"I'm just fuckin' with you. I'll take a fresh beer, though."

Immediately, the bartender fishes out another Dos Equis and pops the top off before gently placing it in front of Valeria. As the night continues, the two share lighthearted conversation between the bartender serving drinks. It starts a bit awkward, from the bartender's lingering embarassment, but eventually turns to good conversation.

"I've not had a white Christmas before," Valeria says at some point.

"Guess the weather decided it needed to catch you up on all that missed out on snow, huh?" the bartender chuckles as she cleans up a few glasses.

Valeria's eyes drift from the bartender to the front window - which is currently half-covered in snow - and nods with a smile.

"Guess so. I don't think I mind, though. Got to help break up a bar fight," she pauses, "and have good conversation with a beautiful woman."

The bartender nearly drops one of the glasses as that cute pink color returns to her cheeks.

"I'd have to... agree. Tonight's been wild, but good." The bartender's tone is soft and genuine as she turns back to Valeria. "Will you be around for the New Year?"

"I will be," Valeria nods. "Have a date for the big party they're throwing for it?"

"Depends on if you're also free and plan on going."

That cute pink color is lingering in the bartender's cheeks and it's all Valeria can see. Pink, adorable, and soft.

"Count me in," she smirks, watching the bartender's smile grow.

CoD Christmas (Meet) Cuties Masterlist

[laundrypause]

AU where no one's a driver. One of Logan's friends signed him and Oscar up for a Lineup video as a joke. They both didn't want to do it cause why willingly participate in putting yourself out on the Internet when they could just do it themselves? But they agree to go in the end because they're going to get compensation if they participate. (It's 20 bucks shared between the two of them) This episode of the lineup is couples edition so guessers would have to guess who's dating who from a lineup of people. Sounds harmless enough right?

Wrong. When has anything ever gone without complications in the Life of Logan™? Oscar's ex is there too. As in the ex which Oscar had dated for two years. As in the ex who had to move back to the UK after graduating college, which led to the both of them deciding to end the relationship off. As in Lando freaking Norris, in the flesh, being on the same set and about to participate in the same video as him and Oscar. But it's fine, no, it totally is. Because they've been over for awhile now and now Oscar is with him so he shouldn't do the whole jealousy thing. It's unbecoming.

When the filming starts, throughout the whole shoot, Logan's been paired with multiple different women. But get this, who has Oscar been paired with the most? Gee, Logan wonders. It can't possibly be Lando could it? Of course it was, because the universe likes jokes and Logan just happened to be the the jester they've chosen for their court. One after another, guesser after guesser, they somehow end up paired up together. One even said that they're confident that they would be the one couple they'd get right.

Oscar has asked one of the guessers why they'd paired him and Lando together, possible trying to befuddle them, making them second guess their pick.

"I saw the way he was looking at you. Absolutely no way that that was platonic."

And to put even more salt in Logan's wound, someone had asked if Lando and Oscar could stare into each others eyes for a bit, wanting to check out their 'vibe', whatever that meant. Tell him why he felt they were legitimately vibing. The moment they made eye contact, it was like they were two planets sharing an orbit and instead of colliding, they became one and Logan was the telescope forced to tune in. Too much? Well too bad because Logan was spiiiralllingggg.

Logan always thought movies and shows were over-exaggerating how the main character felt when they see their significant other with an ex. Like, chill. They're an ex for a reason and now they're with you. Calm yourself. Now that he's in their shoes, maybe, perhaps, there could be a slight possibility that Logan now understands where they're coming from.

"Look at them, they look like they belong with each other. Literal perfection"

Okay, let's maybe tone it down a bit. Fine if you think they look good with each other but ever think you could be wrong and their actual partners are there, you know, having to stand and listen to you saying all this? Logan wonder how Lando's partner, Alex or something, is feeling right about now. Logan knows how he's feeling and it's nothing nice. Maybe he should've just let those twenty dollars go... In this economy, he should've only caved for at least a hundred dollars. Each.

After a gruelling three hours of filming, they were finally wrapping things up and revealing the real couples. It went...great.

"I just didn't think you looked...you know" One guesser had commented when he and Oscar were revealed to be a couple.

And it got even better when one guesser had pulled the landoscar lore from Oscar and had jokingly (it didn't seem that way) asked them to get back together.

"Maybe there's still some love left there?" They had said while doing that weird air elbow nudge.

You'd think the end of filming would be you know, the end of it. But Logan likes to torture himself so he goes scrolling through the comment section when the video is finally uploaded.

Username1 @ username1

First!!! Can I please get a pin please 🙏 🥺

Username3 @ username3

Y'all can't tell me Oscar is over Lando. HIS HEART EYESS??? THAT IS NOT SOMEONE OVER HIS EX

Username7 @ username7

Lando and Oscar are so right person, wrong time coded oml

Username13 @ username13

can yall stop saying that lando and oscar belong with each other? theyre both literally in committed relationships. its disrespectful to not only them but their partners too

↳ Username4 @ username4

I think the only disrespectful thing here was the way Lando was eyeing Oscar. Downright FILTHY

What's worse is Logan sees what they see, what apparently everyone sees. Lando and Oscar, lost lovers who found their way back to each other. Circumstances forcing them apart but fate bringing them back together once again in the most unexpected of places. Story for the ages. Why would anyone think Oscar would be with him. Exactly, there's no reason. Logan wants to be possessive, to show everyone that Oscar was his. To prove that it's not Lando, but him who should be with Oscar. But how can he, when Oscar was never really his in the first place? Logan was merely a placeholder and while everyone could see it, he chose to look away to continue believing that he had Oscar's heart. Why wouldn't he when Oscar had Logan's?

A few months pass after the video and Logan felt nothing when their eventual breakup happened. Nothing ever really felt the same after the video. Instead of talking to Oscar about it, he just left his feelings to stew. Let his insecurities and emotions overwhelm him, pushing Oscar further and further away until the connection between them, in time, snapped. They barely talked, their breakup only being a few short words exchanged, Oscar doing the talking and Logan just agreeing to...whatever. Logan was honestly just really tired. Seeing Lando and Oscar together a few weeks after their breakup didn't even make him feel anything. He's surprised Oscar waited so long but he was no short of a gentleman, that Logan knew. He wonders when Lando broke up with Alec- or was it Albert? Alden?

When one of his friends invited him to golf to stop him from wallowing in his self pity, Logan decided why not?

"Holy shit!"

That was why not. Logan had almost run over someone with his golf cart when he was too preoccupied thinking about a certain someone that rhymed with Moscar. And that someone just happened to be Alex Albon. You know him, Alex's ex is now dating Logan's ex. Fun!!

This now leads to them acquainting themselves with each other because apparently Logan wasn't the only one who saw what he saw that day while filming. Ha! So he wasn't crazy. Just a bit sad....maybe a lot sad. They become kind of friends who grab lunch with other. One day, on said lunch grab, Alex had left the table to use the restroom. Enter the happy couple. Being all lovey dovey. Barf. (They were actually super cute) Oscar had seen Logan and had gone over to him. They exchange pleasantries and when Oscar had asked how he was doing nowadays, Logan had burst out saying he was dating someone.

"Oh! That's- that's great, Logan. Who's the lucky-"

"Alex! Alex Albon. You might, well Lando might know him actually"

Stupid, stupid mouth with no filter. Why? Why the hell did he say he was dating Alex? To save face? Alex then chooses that exact moment to walk right back in. Logan wraps an awkward arm around Alex's midsection, trying to will the panic away from his eyes. He's in too deep now. Logan surreptitiously whispers to Alex to play along and play along he did.

Alex whirls on Logan when Oscar and Lando leaves, demanding an explanation and Logan spills the whole story. They end up trying to fake a relationship as like an indication that they've both moved on from their respective ex, that they both don't still have feelings for them even though they both definitely do. They go on double dates, a lot of double dates because apparently Lando and Oscar have decided that it's cool to bring their exes who are now apparently dating on double dates now. Which it isn't, just to clarify but Alex and Logan are the ones always agreeing to them so...

Alex invites Logan to this gala thing in the UK he has with his parent company because apparently it's useful for networking and he doesn't want to go alone cause it's super boring and doesn't Logan want to get out of the sticky heat and go somewhere cooler. Naturally, Logan agrees and they get to to the UK but guess what. The hotel room they booked? Only one bed. Great. Just great. The hotel was fully booked too since so many people flew in for this gala and Logan and Alex just have to deal with it. It was awkward, Alex suggested he took the sofa while Logan could take the bed but Logan insisted Alex should take the bed. They end up sharing but they did build a little pillow wall to avoid any more awkwardness. The pillow wall was useless though because in the morning, Logan had ended up wrapped around Alex, feet entangling with each other and his head on Alex's chest. It was felt really domestically intimate. Alex was warm, comfortable too. Logan liked Alex. Wait, Logan liked Alex? Unfamiliar with the current feelings washing over him, he disentangled himself from Alex, trying his best not to wake him. Logan needed a walk.

Logan's feelings come to a head when Alex had driven them to the gala and had firmly told Logan to wait in the car. Logan was confused before Alex had practically run to his door side, pulling his door open. It wasn't that that had made him realise the full extent of the feelings he was harbouring for Alex but when Alex had taken his hand, smoothing his fingers on the back of Logan's, saying how beautiful he looked. Logan thinks he's fallen in love. With Alex. Shit.

After that day, Logan kind of toes around Alex a bit but after consulting his counsel (his boys), he decides that he's going to confess. He's going to do it. He calls Alex up and coincidentally, Alex has something to tell him too. They plan to meet at the park and Logan's excited. He's planned a picnic, a spread of foods he'd come to learn was Alex's favourite. His plan was in motion and nothing was going to foil it. Hear that world? Nothing. At. All.

"Logan"

Logan turns, not expecting Alex for another half an hour. Maybe he was just really early? Unusual for the Alex Albon to be early but perhaps he was just as excited to meet Logan as Logan with Alex.

"Hey, I wasn't expecting you till la-" Logan cuts himself short.

Oscar was standing there.