#fuck YOU it is NOT christmas time do not do this to me

[motorsportbarbie13]

Christmas Showdown

In which you and Lando run into an ex-boyfriend while you're home for the holidays.

Warnings: talk of abusive relationship (no details though). Established relationship. Protective Lando. This could probably be better and it's pretty short buttttttt I needed to get this out of my head, so enjoy! Pairing: Lando Norris x Girlfriend!Reader Word Count: 1.8k words

Master List

It had been several years since you spent the holidays in your small Midwestern hometown. Usually, your family flew out to London or Monaco to spend the holiday’s with you there, much preferring to leave Michigan’s several feet of snow that was typically on the ground during Christmas. This year was different thought. Your grandmother had been too ill to make the long flight so instead, you came to them. Which was fine with you, you had missed seeing friends that were home for the holidays and missed the nostalgic nights spent around the Christmas tree with your family. The one person who was not fine with it, however, was your boyfriend. 

Lando Norris simply hated the cold. He hated being cold. Hated thinking about the cold. Hated the snow. Anytime the temperature dipped below 50 degrees Fahrenheit ( which also a fight you two had often was how he refused to learn the difference between Fahrenheit and Celsius while also simultaneously refusing to do the same for him.) So you knew he must really be down bad for you when he had agreed (albeit a bit sluggishly) to spend the Christmas holiday with you in your (freezing) hometown. 

There was minimal complaining for the first few days you were at home, mostly because it the weather was fair enough to not be something comparable to the North Pole, but trouble arose the day of your Aunt and Uncle’s infamous Christmas party. The first sign of trouble was your brother’s insistence on a family outing to the sledding hill that was a few miles from your house. Of course Lando had packed several parkas but when he had seen the Canada Goose store in the mall the day before, he had bought the thickest, best cold rated puffer jacket he could find. Despite that and several layers of long johns and sweaters, by the time you reached the sledding hill your poor boyfriend was shivering like your grandma’s ancient chihuahua. 

To his credit though, there was not one single utterance of a complaint or plea to go back to your parents house for a cup of hot chocolate then entire time. Lando happily chased your nieces and nephews around the sledding hill and even went down the hill a few times with you. 

“Okay, folks!” Your dad calls out as the afternoon sun hangs low in the sky. “I think it’s time we all head home and get ready for Judy and Steve’s party tonight. I expect everyone to be at their house by 7pm sharp!” The ‘this reminder is for your benefit’ look that your dad sends you has your already wind chapped face turning even more red. 

“I don’t know why you’re glaring at me! I’m always on time!” You shout, grabbing for Lando’s hand. “We’ll see you guys tonight!” 

Once you get in the Range Rover that Lando had rented for the two week visit, he immediately turns the heated seats on full power and cranks up the heat. 

“Do you want to swing by Starbucks and get something warm before going home?” You ask as Lando pulls out of the park and onto the snowy street. “I feel like I might need to just get you an IV of hot chocolate at this point.” 

Lando gives you a sidelong glare. “I think I have icicles in my nose hairs.” 

Laughter tumbles out of you, quick and light, sending a thrill of pleasure down Lando’s spine. You two had been dating for a few years now and there were still times he’d look over at you and think ‘how the fuck did I convince this girl to be my girlfriend?’. You had come into his life at a particularly challenging time and had been his rock since day one. 

“Starbucks it is, my poor little snowman. There’s one up here in this strip mall. Turn left at this light and then it’s on the right.” 

The parking lot, which is a shared lot with several other big box stores, is an absolute zoo and you can see the line snaking around the inside of the Starbucks before you even go in. To save some time, Lando drops you off at the front door while he goes and finds a spot for the large SUV. 

The line is long when you get inside but you’re thankful to at least be out of the bitter cold. While you wait in line, you mindlessly scroll on your Instagram, which is locked down tighter than Fort Knox. Going private on all socials and not being featured heavily on Lando’s had been one of the things you two had agreed upon when things started getting serious nearly two years ago now. People who were huge Lando fans knew who you were but the casual F1 fan probably wouldn’t have been able to pick you out of a lineup. 

Your casually scrolling, minding your own business, when a deep voice calling your name jolts you out of your little social media bubble. 

“Jeff?” You sputter, surprised to see your college boyfriend standing in front of you in line, huge smile on his face. 

Jeff had been one of the guys you and your best friends had drooled over in high school, having been nearly two years ahead of you when you were teens. You didn’t start dating him until your freshman year of college, when he was already a junior. To say the man was toxic was an understatement. In fact, now that you had a few years distance between the now and the end of the relationship, you could confidently say Jeff had been pretty abusive. 

“Hey, stranger!” He says, leaning in for a hug. You go completely still, totally unprepared to be faced with the man who had caused you so much trauma in the two years you had dated. “I have’t seen you in ages, visiting your family for the holidays?” 

You toss a look over your shoulder, desperately wishing for Lando to come walking in the door. “Uh, yeah. First time in a few years. I usually fly them over to London or Monaco for the holidays.” 

A dark shadow passes over Jeff’s face at the mention of where you live now. “Monaco, huh? You always thought you were too good for us here, didn’t you?” 

Your stomach twists painfully at the look in his eyes and you briefly consider just turning around and walking right out of the Starbucks without your drinks.

Before you can stutter out a response, a strong pair of large hands wraps around your waist as Lando drops his head onto your shoulder. “Darling. Baby. Sweetheart. Love of my life." Lando croons in your ear, not yet picking up on your body language. "I adore you but why the fuck did you have to be born in a place where the air hurts your face?” 

You laugh stiffly despite yourself. “Talk to my parents about that one, love.” 

Lando drops a kiss on your cheek before looking over at the other man. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were talking to someone.” 

Across from you, Jeff had been watching this exchange between Lando and you with an increasing amount of annoyance. Who the fuck was this and why was he calling you the love of his life? 

“Lando, this is Jeff.” You turn slightly, giving Lando a knowing look which he catches onto immediately. “Jeff, this is my boyfriend, Lando.” 

“That’s an interesting name. Only heard that name twice before, once in Star Wars and…” Jeff’s voice drops off as he finally makes the connection. “Wait. Lando…as in Lando Norris?” 

The smug grin that stretches across Lando’s face nearly has you giggling. “That’s me. And you’re Jeff, huh? I’ve heard a lot about you. None of it good.” 

Lando remembered the first time you had ever opened up to him a few months into dating about how you had been in an abusive relationship in college and how much work it had taken to recover from it. He had been your first serious relationship after leaving Jeff, having left the country just to get away from him. Internally, Lando raged at the man standing in front of you two, the protective instinct in him screaming to just lay the guy out right here.

Jeff’s already ruddy face turns red with incandescent rage. You had totally forgotten he was a big Formula One fan and when you remember the fact that not only is he an F1 fan, but a huge McLaren fan, the urge to giggle hits you again. Oh, this was just too good. 

“How’d you…” Jeff stutters. “How’d you manage to bag yourself a Formula 1 driver?” 

The question is a pathetic attempt to rile you up and insult you but both you and Lando see that question for exactly what it is. 

Lando plants another kiss on your cheek and you know he’s doing it to be an asshole. “I was actually the one who pursued her. She turned me down left and right for nearly a year, didn’t you baby?” 

You nod, remembering the way Lando had come into your office at the McLaren Tech Center day after day just to make small talk at first but finally had worked up the nerve to ask you out. You were one of the newer people on the comms team back then and you hand’t wanted to jeopardize the career you had worked so hard for so you had turned him down for nearly a year, insisting that you wanted nothing more than a friendship with the driver. 

“But eventually, he wore me down. He flew me to Monaco and took me out on his yacht for our first date, it was all very romantic.” It had actually been Max’s yacht, but Jeff didn’t need to know that bit. 

You can see Jeff practically seething at this point, knowing that you’re doing so well and he’s still apparently stuck in your hometown. 

“And how are you doing, Jeff? Still working at your dad’s law firm? How is Vance doing? And Laura?” You know it’s killing him, asking about his parents by their first name. 

Jeff just blinks at you for a few moments, realizing you weren’t the little girl he used to push around and take advantage of in college anymore. “Made partner last year, actually.” 

“That must be easy to do when your dad owns the practice, huh?” Lando says, voice nothing but light innocence. 

Jeff’s eyes bounce between you and Lando for several moments before he suddenly reaches into his pocket. “If you’d excuse me, it looks like the office is calling me.” 

“A call from the office the day before Christmas! Gosh, you must be very important, Jeffery.” Lando’s low blow to Jeff’s big ego hits true and without another word, the man scampers out of the Starbucks without a second glance in your direction. 

Once he’s gone, both you and Lando dissolve into giggles, your head finding it’s favorite spot on Lando’s shoulder. “I’m surprised he didn’t try to deck you there are the end.” 

“And mess up his pretty lawyer hands? Honey, I doubt he even knows how to throw a punch.” 

tag list @shelbyteller @formulaal @martygraciesversion381 @longhairkoo @samantha-chicago

[astonmartinii]

day two: i saw mommy kissing santa claus | fernando alonso social media au

pairing: fernando alonso x fem lawson reader (liam's mom)

first he tries to take him out on track and now he takes his MOM?

christmas song: i saw mommy kissing santa claus - jackson 5

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

liamlawson30

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, yukitsunoda0511 and 104,505 others

tagged: yourusername

liamlawson30: a full time f1 driver and i still can't escape the christmas duties

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user1: momma lawson is such a jumpscare every time

user1: a jumpscare in my PANTS

user1: woah why am i blocked by fernando alonso ???

yukitsunoda0511: you're so ungrateful i would decorate anything for momma lawson

yourusername: have i ever told you you're my favourite yuki ?

yukitsunoda0511: hehehehehehe

liamlawson30: huh ???

maxverstappen1: i hate to burst your bubble chicos but momma lawson told me in brazil that I'M her favourite sooooooo

liamlawson: MUM?

yourusername: i can't help my maternal urges i had to tell him i was proud of him !!!

estebanocon: she also told me she's proud of me

pierregasly: and me!

yukitsunoda0511: SHE'S OUR MUM NOW LIAM

liamlawson30: WHAT IS HAPPENING ??????

user2: the f1 grid is so weak sauce - you saw momma lawson and thought maternal figure first and not MILF

liamlawson30: can yall shut the fuck up there's too many of you to block at once

user3: don't have such a hot mum then ???

liamlawson30: HOW IS THAT MY FAULT?

user4: i'd actually be more annoyed if i were you liam because you clearly did NOT get her genes

liamlawson30: mum they're calling me ugly :(

yourusername: you're the prettiest angel in the paddock to me bub

alexalbon: i assume my invite to the lawson christmas festivities is still valid

liamlawson30: obvs and you have to bring lily, mum's rules

alexalbon: we'll bring the sangria @yourusername

yourusername: u guys are stars !!!

liamlawson30: why would we need sangria? that's not very christmassy ?

alexalbon: oh my sweet summer child

user5: what do they know 🤨

yourusername

liked by liamlawson30, fernandoalo_oficial and 82,091 others

yourusername: christmas is serious business in this house

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user6: A MAN???

user7: first of all that could just be liam

yukitsunoda0511: he's no where near that tall

user8: also y/n is a boy mom but not THAT kind of boy mom

liamlawson30: okay 1. the house looks great i can't wait for the christmas break 2. WHO THE FUCK IS THAT ?

yourusername: ummmm language?

liamlawson30: oh i am sorry - whomst is that GROSS ASS MAN WHO HAS HIS GROSS ASS PAWS ON YOU

yourusername: liam, let's not be rude online he's probably reading this

yourusername: let's make a good impression!

liamlawson30: how about we give NO IMPRESSION EVER

user9: oh liam is going through it

maxverstappen1: i for one am excited to meet our new dad

liamlawson30: BACK OFF DUTCHIE

maxverstappen1: that's not very nice liam, i'm telling dad

liamlawson30: you know what i don't want that red bull seat anymore

fernandoalo_oficial: those decorations are definietly fitting for a woman like yourself

yourusername: why thank you nando

liamlawson30: what are you doing here?

liamlawson30: is bothering me on track not enough?

fernandoalo_oficial: you have no idea

liamlawson30: huh ???

user10: my spider senses are tingling

user11: so we all know who the man is right?

liamlawson30: so tell me???

user12: bro is afraid of context cues

alexalbon: leave him it's funnier to watch him try and work it out

liamlawson30: ALEX?

fernandoalo_oficial

liked by carlossainz55, oscarpiastri and 562,095 others

tagged: yourusername

fernandoalo_oficial: call me santa because i found my mrs claus

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user15: i just fell to my knees in a walmart

user16: i don't know which one i'm more heartbroken about losing

user17: don't be dumb it's obvs momma lawson

liamlawson30: EH????

liamlawson30: FERNANDO ALONSO?

liamlawson30: @yourusername YOU'RE DATING FERNANDO ALONSO?

yourusername: yes! are you not happy? i thought you loved fernando?

liamlawson30: I DID?

liamlawson30: like i liked him as a driver? i thought it was cool that he's a world champion? NOT DATING MY MUM

yourusername: well i wasn't going to stay single forever bub

liamlawson30: BUT WHY HIM? EVERYONE CALLS YOU A MILF YOU COULD GET ANYONE

fernandoalo_oficial: liam i think you'll find i am a CATCH

liamlawson30: well i'm not calling him dad

fernandoalo_oficial: for now you can call me santa ;)

liamlawson30: PLEASE FUCK OFF

fernandoalo_oficial: well for that you're on the naughty list

liamlawson30: what are you gonna take me out on track again???

fernandoalo_oficial: i wasn't... but now you mention it

liamlawson30: MUM MAKE HIM STOP :(

yourusername: well that went great!

user18: let me grab my popcorn real quick

user19: this is so messy ... i love it!

user20: poor liam got a full time seat, immediately got on fernando's shit list and now has him a step dad ???

liamlawson30: idk which cosmic entity i pissed off but can they PLEASE STOP

user21: real question is what garage is y/n going to be in for the next race...

user22: oh god...

maxverstappen1: personally i think she'll be in her favourite driver's garage but that's just me...

yukitsunoda0511: both of her sons are in the RB garage?

fernandoalo_oficial: have you ever considered i am sexier than all of you

yourusername: considering they're my KIDS that's probably a good thing ???

visacashapprb

liked by maxverstappen1, yukitsunoda0511 and 329,055 others

tagged: liamlawson30, yourusername & yukitsunoda0511

visacashapprb: we won the momma lawson custody battle

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user23: the way she was never not gonna be in her SONS garage but this is cute tho!

user24: idk but sky constantly cutting to fernando standing outside of the garage blowing her kisses has cracked me up

user25: he's so down bad... ur 42 STAND UP

fernandoalo_oficial: i didn't know there was an age limit on love ???

liamlawson30: LOVE?

yourusername: obviously i would be in my baby's garage :(

visacashapprb: we didn't doubt you momma lawson but we did see you sneaking over to ... them

liamlawson30: mUM?

yourusername: you were in debrief? and the coffee at rb sucks :(

visacashapprb: but we have complementary red bull!

yourusername: do i look like i'm at the age that i can be drinking red bull all the time?

visacashapprb: yes!

fernandoalo_oficial: are you flirting with my girlfriend?

visacashapprb: NO!

yourusername: so you don't think i'm pretty?

visacashapprb: admin is going to have a breakdown i'm logging OFF

user26: even the social media admins have a crush on momma lawson?

redbullracing: well of course

scuderiaferrari: we're not blind?

mercedesamgf1: we're only human <3

fernandoalo_oficial: just how many of you do i have to fight?

astonmartinf1: you may have won the battle but you have NOT won the war

visacashapprb: it's ON

user27: they're on here fighting but do they know that both y/n and fernando are currently live on sky sports with jenson ...

visacashapprb: HUH?

user28: the way jenson roped liam in as well and brother does NOT want to be there

user29: the way fernando had his arm around y/n and liam literally pushed through it to stand between them

user30: this whole lil family are quickly become my faves

liamlawson30

liked by yukitsunoda0511, maxverstappen1 and 204,506 others

tagged: yourusername & fernandoalo_oficial

liamlawson30: her siri play i saw mommy kissing santa claus and then schedule my SUICIDE

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user32: glad to see we're keeping very cool, calm and collected

user33: liam really is the irritable queen representation on the grid

user34: i mean after the last few races if i saw fernando at the bottom of my stairs dressed as SANTA i would also be bamboozled

yourusername: my two favourite boys home for christmas, it really is the most wonderful time of the year <3

liamlawson30: i literally said i want to kill myself in the caption?

yourusername: i'm ignoring that

liamlawson30: well what you can't ignore is the fact i can see fernando putting all of MY CHRISTMAS CHEESECAKES IN HIS CAR?

fernandoalo_oficial: THERE IS NO THREATENING SUCIDE IN THIS HOUSE OVER CHRISTMAS

fernandoalo_oficial: save that for when it matters - holding it over your team!

liamlawson30: okay?

yourusername: see liam - endless advice :)

user35: this endless advice being to threaten to kill yourself anytime your team wrongs you ???

user36: @charles_leclerc please take notes

maxverstappen1: for my own peace of mind i'm going to ignore this also

liamlawson30: i'm not going to kill myself max ?

liamlawson30: i won't give fernando the satisfaction

maxverstappen1: oh i don't give a fuck about that

maxverstappen1: i was talking about momma lawson saying YOU are her favourite

liamlawson30: of course i am - it's FERNANDO WHO SHOULDN'T BE

maxverstappen1: why wouldn't fernando be a favourite, he's my favourite old guy as well

fernandoalo_oficial: why thank you max - you're invited to christmas!

liamlawson30: you can't just invite people to christmas at my house

fernandoalo_oficial: i think you'll find it's my house now

liamlawson30: i'd slash your tires but i actually do want you to leave!

user37: i love how momma lawson just lets them scrap it out in the comments

yourusername: gotta let them get it out over the internet so they're normal in person, like a dog getting their zoomies out

user38: i fear you have the patience of a saint

yourusername: i love them both so much i just got let them get through this phase

user39: how long until you actually get annoyed

yourusername: if they argue through another episode of real housewives of beverely hills the get along t-shirt is coming out

yukitsunoda0511

liked by pierregasly, alexalbon and 304,509 others

tagged: liamlawson, yourusername & fernandoalo_oficial

yukitsuonoda0511: liam may complain but i would NEVER miss a christmas with momma lawson

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user40: oh to be making gingerbread men with momma lawson

yukitsunoda0511: we made the whole grid :)

user41: wait that's so cute

yukitsunoda0511: and we recreated all the crashes this season hehehehe

user42: see this is why i wasn't shocked about her being with fernando - they're clearly just as chaoatic as each other

liamlawson30: it's not cute, she made their gingerbreadselves kiss :|

fernandoalo_oficial: why when she could have the real thing?

yourusername: hehehehehe

liamlawson30: LEAVE ME ALONE

user43: i kinda hope liam never gets over this

user44: well the way that twitter got hopeful after they were talking during the drivers parade but then liam was out there during the race blaming fernando for things lance was doing LOL

user45: convinced he could see a bright ass ferrari and still be like 'fernando is out to kill me'

yourusername: we love having you yuki <333

yukitsunoda0511: you think i'd miss your festive sushi night? over my dead body

yourusername: it's a tradition now :3

user46: she really has been momma bear for so many of the younger drivers i'm so excited to see how many she can pick up now liam has a full time drive

fernandoalo_oficial: do NOT GIVE HER IDEAS

yourusername: but nando they're all so cute

fernandoalo_oficial: i only just got you i don't want to have to share already :(

yourusername: i'm all yours baby don't worry

fernandoalo_oficial: i'm yours forever x

fernandoalo_oficial: also no adopting franco he 100% has a crush on you

francocolapinto: SORRY NOT SORRY XXX

user47: no kick off from liam after those cute comments? progress?

user48: maybe he's finally been defeated by them lol

liamlawson30: i'm tired

liamlawson30: and they don't even listen to me

fernandoalo_oficial: you're 22 years old liam i'm not gonna listen to you when you're stomping your feat in lightning mcqueen slippers

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo and 124,056 others

tagged: liamlawson30 & fernandoalo_oficial

yourusername: my santa baby remembered i wanted a ring

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user49: holy mother that is a ROCK

user50: fernando said i'm gonna make you mine and i'm gonna make sure people KNOW and are jealous

user51: i always forget he's been an f1 driver since before liam was born and is rich AS FUCK

liamlawson30: okay i'll accept fernando now i guess

fernandoalo_oficial: finally !!! i knew you loved me really liam

liamlawson30: it's mainly because you bought me a car for christmas

fernandoalo_oficial: well i thought it was a nice gift but now i just feel like a weird sugar daddy

liamlawson30: but i guess i also like that you make my mum super happy

fernandoalo_oficial: well i love her so i'd hope so

liamlawson30: i'll still never call you dad even if you're married

fernandoalo_oficial: normal service resumed i see

user52: you know what? i'll call that progress!

yourusername: liam won't tell you guys but he did cry just as much as me

liamlawson30: i'm a tough guy !!!!!

liamlawson30: and also SORRY i am happy for you :(

yourusername: you were just going through your teenage rebellion phase in your 20s were you?

liamlawson30: yes!

fernandoalo_oficial: i have never felt love like this and can't wait to spend forever with you

yourusername: you made me the happiest girl in the world at the happiest time of the year

fernandoalo_oficial: you saying yes is the best christmas gift i could ever ask for

yourusername: there's no way i could ever say no to you

liamlawson30: i can tell - why did you get him a cat for christmas? we're a dog family :/

yourusername: LIAM???

liamlawson30: whoops! 😬 spoiler alert

fernandoalo_oficial: you got me a cat !!!! amor !!!!!

yourusername: well a proposal put my suprise of bruno to shame :( (we're going to pick him up tomorrow)

fernandoalo_oficial: don't talk about my favourite son like that - i love cats and i love you <333

liamlawson30: i was just being nice to you and now i relegated to below a CAT?

yourusername: that's bruno to you sir

liamlawson30: i actually can't win

fernandoalo_oficial: ANYWAY i love you y/n thanks for giving me a furry son and for being with me forever xxx

yourusername: i love you more xxx

user53: is it ever not a rollercoaster in this house

user54: i don't give a fuck this christmas gave us the return of cat dad fernando and y/n lawson-alonso ???

fin.

note: day twoooooooooooo enjoy for the first of december! i had a great day because chelsea won and i got my DREAM f1 podium for qatar xxxx

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼

𝙽𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕆𝕟𝕖: 𝔹𝕣𝕒𝕥 ℂ𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕤

𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚔𝙳𝚒𝚕𝚏!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙱𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

1.4K words

warnings: cheating on spouse (Sofia), age gap (Rafe is her bestfriend’s dad), manipulation, swearing, name calling, pet names, jealous Rafe, choking, spitting, rough sex, pussy slapping, mean!Rafe, ownership kink, degredation

📖 Hooking up with your best friend’s dad only to flirt with Topper at the holiday party, what could go wrong? Rafe will let you know (<- part of the “mr cameron” au but it will be written to be read alone)

Reader’s POV:

“Mr. Cameron, please…” you whine as you crawl closer to him on the hotel bed. “I was only flirting with him to get your attention. What? You can't handle a little teasing?”

“Topper is always watchin’ you, princess. But, you know that. Right? M’sure you do,” he delivers his words in a biting tone, veiled in sweetness that makes the hair on your arms stand straight. Rafe throws his shirt off his toned body, raking his fingers through his hair as your bottom lip pokes out in a pout. “Enough. You’re not gettin’ shit from me,” he clips as he unbuckles his belt.

“I didn’t mean-”

“I said ‘enough!” He shouts, stopping you before you can continue, his deep voice bellowing in your chest, making you shrink. Rafe sinks into his pillow before turning off the light.

“Baby, please…” You whisper as you creep close, resting on top of him, body huddled against his. “I had to watch you all night with Sofia… I just got jealous. I just – I wanted you to see me,” you whisper. “I need you…”

Rafe shrugs you off, bullying you to your side of the bed as heat rises behind your eyes, tears brimming as you try your best not to “cry.”

Stepping off the bed, you slip out of your dress, letting it fall off your frame, exposing your lingerie set.

Sure, Rafe has a jealous streak, but you didn’t think this is how tonight would end. You just wanted to rile him up a little bit… Maybe flirting with his best friend was a little much…

You walk toward the bed, trying your best to change his mind. “Let me make it up to you, Daddy. Please,” you whisper as you reach out for him. Rafe grabs you, forcing you against the mattress, making you gasp in surprise. He tacks your hand above your head, grip tightening as his blue eyes narrow on yours.

“You know what you are to me? Huh? You’re just a hole, my pretty little plaything, a fucktoy that I choose to keep around. I don’t care that you need me. I don’t give a fuck that you want to make it up to me. You made me angry. And now you’re not gettin’ shit.”

You feel a steady pulsing between your thighs as you look into his beautiful eyes, his mouth spitting nothing but vile words. His gaze trails your frame, wetting his lip hungrily, eyeing your breasts, pressed into lacey lingerie, a little garter belt snatched around your waist. “You don’t mean that, Mr. Cameron,” you whisper tauntingly.

“I don’t say shit I don’t mean,” he snarls as his blown pupils match your own. “Suppose you wore this for me. Huh? Thought I fuck this pussy just like you like?” Rafe slaps between your thighs, making you squeak in sensitivity. “Crotchless? Really? N’you wore these to a Christmas party? The fuck is wrong with you? Did you think you’d get lucky, sweetheart? Couldn’t even waste time lettin’ me take ’em off. Wearin’ ’em like the skank you are. Hmm? Good ‘n wet whenever I want it? Such a fuckin’ slut; you’re a mess. M’not gettin’ anywhere near this slut pussy, and neither are you. Understand?”

“Yes…” You sniffle, watching his hardened gaze crack slightly as you get emotional, even if it’s all an act.

“Get to sleep. Leave me the fuck alone. This was supposed to be a romantic night n’you ruined it. Don’t even think about touchin’ yourself. Yeah?” Rafe rolls back to his side again, tucking himself away as you bury yourself in the sheets.

You peer over the covers, listening to Rafe grumble and groan as he battles with his pride, and the rational part of his brain tells him all you want is his attention. He draws a deep, frustrated breath, blowing it out nice and slow.

“Fuck it.” Rafe mounts you fast, spreading your pussy, before pushing inside. You release a breathy cry, filled to the hilt with him; his heavy balls resting against your ass. He buries himself in your neck, forcing himself as deep as he can go. “I don’t fucking share.” He drags his long, thick cock out nice and slow, snapping his hips again, making you wail. “And, I don’t like people lookin’ at what’s mine. You're not lookin’ at Thornton again. Understand? He's not an option for you. I am your only fuckin’ option.”

“M’sorry, baby,” you pant, trapping your plump bottom lip between your teeth as you look up at him innocently.

“You’re fuckin’ soaked. You like gettin’ yelled at? You like bein’ called a little fucktoy?”

“Yes,” you stammer. “M’your fucktoy, Rafe. I'm anything you want.”

“Cock-hungry slut,” he hisses as he pulls out, thrusting rougher, making you moan as you feel his fat cock fill you completely. Rafe wraps his arms around your ass, picking you up, lifting your hips off the bed, rutting roughly into your greedy cunt. The sloppy sounds of your pussy and lewd groans bouncing off the walls.

Rafe slings your legs over his shoulders, pressing himself into you nice and slow. He rocks his dick deep, watching your eyes roll back as he drags out. “You think Top could fuck you like this?”

“No… I don’t. And, I don’t think about Topper, Rafe,” you whimper, voice hoarse and weak.

“Who do you think about, princess?” He drawls as he takes your ankles in his hands, drawing them straight in the air, using them as a pull to fuck you deeper.

“You! Only you, daddy.”

He wipes the smirk off his face, hardening his appearance again. Rafe spreads your legs a little wider, pushing them into the comforter before spitting on your clit; slapping your pussy again.

“Fuck, Rafe!” You scream, making him chuckle wickedly. His body slaps against yours, his other hand wrapping tightly around your throat. You close your walls around him, causing Rafe to throw his head back in pleasure.

“Whose pussy is this?” He moans breathlessly. Your eyes roll back in your head, too cockdrunk to force out the words you both want to hear. “Whose fuckin’ pussy is this?” He snarls, tightening his hold around your neck, an unrelenting cadence as you feel your pleasure near its peak.

“Yours!” You choke, feeling your pulse under his hand as your eyes flutter shut.

“Does my little cockslut wanna cum. Huh? You need it, princess?” You try to speak, but his grasp is too tight. He lets up, delivering a stinging slap to your cheek as you reach for air. “I said, ‘Does my little cockslut want my cum?’”

“Y-Yes. Yes. Please, Daddy.”

“I could stop right fuckin’ now,” He taunts.

“Don’t stop. Please,” you cry.

“Cum for me then. Let me fuckin’ have it,” he grunts, punctuating every word with a slamming thrust as he works his fingers even quicker, pushing you over the edge.

Your body flutters around his cock as Rafe moans your name, flooding you with his seed, panting through jagged breaths as he continues to work you through your climax. His eyes shut heavily as he feels you relax around him.

He wraps himself in you, nestling into the crook of your neck. The two of you reach for a breath, hearts banging against each other. He draws back not soon after, his lust-drunk eyes meeting yours.

“Don’t fuckin’ do that shit again,” he warns. Silence and sex hangs heavy in the air as he waits for you to reply.

“…but you fucked me so good,” you whisper.

He scoffs and sucks his teeth, displeased with your answer. “You’re a goddamn mess. You know that?” He mumbles as he tilts in, kissing your neck, where his big hand had squeezed. “Just ask me to be rough with you, and I’ll toss you around. Aight?”

“But I like when you get angry,” you sigh as your long fingernails scratch down his muscular back.

“Well, you succeeded. You're a fuckin’ brat,” he mutters as he brushes his lips against your ear. “M’serious about Thornton, though… That shit pissed me the fuck off. And it’s not gonna happen twice.”

You draw away, cupping his cheek as you brush his stubble with your thumb. “I know it did,” you whisper. “N’I could tell you I’m sorry. But that would be a lie,” you smile, with a taunting twinkle in your eye that has him rolling his away.

“You’re unbelievable,” he drones. Rafe rolls you on top, his half-hard cock stiffening again at your defiance. He wraps his big, strong arms around your body, holding you close. “You’re mine.”

“For the moment,” you whisper as you meet his soft lips.

“Stop,” he warns, knowing he's never truly in control.

“Make me.”

tags: @loserboysandlithium @rafesthroatbaby @kisses4angels @watchmerora @babygorewhore @buckybarnessweetheart @anamiad00msday @littlelamy @namelesslosers @cades-outsider @romaescapes @starkeysprincess @oxpogues4lifexo @unrealmirrorball @sleepiibunniiii @gri959 @rafesgiirl @daryldixon83 @akobx @hyperfixationgirl @lhhlver @rrafeswhore @slut-4-gojo @lovinqbella @blair-bears-blog @loveesiren

[d3arapril]

[reup] CHAMA | p.b

pairing: paige bueckers x f!reader word count: 2k warnings/tags: MINORS DNI! porn w zero plot, top!paige, mirror sex (ish), paige the eater returns, fingering (r!receiving), spit, language. i think that's it. ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ it took some time, but look at this lil ol' thing i found in the depths of tumblr. happy early christmas :D reblogs & feedback appreciated!

"Come on, look."

Your back is slick with sweat, skin sticking to Paige’s chest as she keeps you pressed against her with a hand on your stomach. She's sat with her back against the wall, pillows haphazardly thrown on the floor and across the bed in a haste to get into position.

You're not sure how you both got here so soon, heated touches quickly turning into something more as soon as you'd entered her room.

"You look good," she'd said, those stupid rizz hands rubbing together as though she was plotting an elaborate plan to get you naked.

Of course, she was successful.

Now, you're forced to be face to face with your dishevelled appearance– eyes blown out wide and chest heaving as you watch Paige's two fingers rub at your clit in slow slow circles which are enough to make your hips shift, ass pressing back into her. Her grip against your stomach tightens, blunt nails digging into your skin.

"Quit moving," her lips are against the shell of your ear, breath fanning over your skin. "or I'll stop."

You struggle to read if she's teasing or being serious, especially given the fact that you've been sat in the same position for the past 15 minutes. Your gaze flickers up to her face and she's already staring at you, brows furrowed as she focuses on making you feel good.

It's always a struggle to see who'll cave in first– if Paige's head will drop between your legs first or if you'll turn to her, straddling her lap as you whine in her ear that you want to cum for her.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No." it's measly, the way the word leaves you. You feel weak but part of you enjoys it– enjoys the way she can so easily take you apart and put you back together again.

The hand on your stomach trails down to your thigh, pushing your legs apart wider and trapping them underneath her own. You're spread out and it's embarrassing but you find it hard to care when Paige's fingers slip between your folds, soaking wet as she rubs her fingers back and forth, back and forth until you can hear how wet you are, see your pussy practically glistening back at you in the mirror.

"Fuck," her lips part as she breathes out, chest heaving against your back as she watches her fingers working you in the mirror. "you're so fucking sexy."

Before you can stop yourself, you're covering her hand with yours as you push her fingers inside you. The stretch isn't too much but she's not exactly giving you the chance to adjust before she's thrusting, fingers curling as her thumb moves to press against your clit.

"Good, huh?" her voice is low, quiet against the back of your ear.

"Mhm," you nod, fingers digging into her thigh beside you as you struggle to hold yourself together. "so good."

She keeps her gaze focused on your cunt, watching as her fingers slip in and out of you. The sound is wet and messy, her other hand is pressed against your thigh and her touch is like fire, burning into your skin and keeping you held open. You're staring at her in the mirror, eyes so wide you feel like they might pop out of your head.

She's starting to sweat, you feel it against your back and see it beading on her hairline. You know she's getting off on this too, probably soaking through her boxers right now; always the giver.

You start to feel that familiar feeling below your stomach, the cord tightening as Paige fucks into you faster, harder, wet sounds practically now echoing around her room as you whine out into the air. The hand that was on your thigh snaps up to your jaw, clammy fingers pressing hard into your skin.

"Sshhh," her lips press against your cheek, soft kisses left against the heated skin. You feel like you're suffocating, eyes screwed shut as you climb higher and higher.

"Look." she murmurs, and you do, nodding as your eyes open slowly.

Your neck is strained, chin jutted upwards from the strength of Paige's grip on your jaw keeping you in place.

You do as she says, eyes heavy as you watch your reflections. Your gaze flickers between Paige's face and her fingers fucking into you, toes curling at the sheer dirtiness of it all. Her fingers slip out of you entirely to opt for solely rubbing at your clit, fingers sliding around messily from how wet she’d made you.

Your thighs start to tremble and you know Paige notices it because you hear her scoff in the back of her throat, knowing. "Y’wanna cum?"

A wrecked sob leaves you. "Yes, yes—"

"Say please."

"Please make me cum, please."

She doesn't utter another word, just rubs tight circles against your clit harder, faster until you’re panting. You catch her face in the mirror; jaw clenched and cheeks flushed and she’s watching your face, eyes hooded and just like that it's over, legs fighting to shut against her hand as you cry out, voice cracking at the sheer pleasure and pussy clenching around nothing as you fall apart.

The hand on your jaw presses against your mouth, muffling your noises as you sob into her palm. Her nose drags against your cheek and you think she’s talking you through it but you can’t hear her over your own cries. Her other hand doesn’t slow, riding you through it with slow circles until your hips are canting up against her hand.

"P," a trembling hand wraps around her wrist, pulse heavy against your fingertips as you look for a reprieve you’re not even sure you want.

"Wan' me to stop?" The light slap she gives your clit makes your breath catch in your throat.

You can't find it in you to say no, not when you look at her in the mirror again and she's looking at you with those eyes. You falter for a second and that's enough for Paige to know you're not done. She slips out from behind you and you whimper at the loss of her warmth behind you.

She settles between your legs, nudging you backwards until your shoulders hit the mattress. Paige spreads you open again, blonde hair cascading over her shoulder as she leans down.

“Look at you,” she murmurs, mostly to herself more than anything, hungry gaze roaming over your pussy and the smeared release across your inner thighs. She bites her lip, a low appreciative moan vibrating in her throat. "look so good.”

You want to say something, respond and tell her she looks good too but the words get stuck in your throat. All you can do is whimper in response, hips shifting restlessly under her gaze.

Then she’s leaning down, body sliding down the bed until she's flat on her stomach. Her hands hook under your thighs and pull you closer, toned arms bracing your thighs open enough for her to dive in.

Her tongue runs flat over you, dipping inside of your pussy and dragging up to your clit, once, twice as though she's licking you clean. She's moaning into you, vibrations running through your body.

You crane your neck up just enough to look ahead in the mirror, almost startled at your own dishevelled appearance. You're soon distracted by the sight of Paige between your legs, blonde hair trailing down her back. You watch her work with hazy eyes, muscles tensing and flexing underneath her skin with the effort of keeping your legs apart.

Your head thuds back against the mattress and you let your eyes slip shut, hands finding home in Paige's hair. "Shit, you're so— fuck."

You feel her chuckle against you more than you hear it and it makes you whimper, hips canting up towards her as she pulls your clit into your mouth and sucks hard, tongue flicking across as she pulls back.

"So wet, baby." she murmurs, more to herself than anything.

"For you." you manage to say, voice shaking.

Good response, she thinks. Her right hand leaves its place on your thigh and slips between your legs, three fingers dipping through your folds and pushing in all the way to the last knuckle. Despite her already having her fingers inside of you earlier it's still a slight stretch, pussy pulsing around her digits.

Paige leans her head on your inner thigh, eyes hooded as she watches herself finger you, pressing and curling inside of you. Your pussy squelches against her with every curl of her fingers, clinging against her digits like she was made to be inside of you.

"Fuck, I love this pussy," Paige's voice cracks as she says it, eyes not leaving the way your pussy swallows her fingers. "she's so good to me."

Before you can register what she's said she's got her lips wrapped around your clit again, tongue circling the bud as her fingers fuck into you harder.

Your thighs start to quiver again, stomach tightening and toes curling as you pull at Paige's roots in attempt to ground yourself. It feels different this time, like your orgasm is going to swallow you whole. "Oh shit–fuck, Paige," you're patting at her head, not certain if you're trying to pull her off you or push her in closer.

The blonde makes that decision for you. She groans against you, knowing, fingers pumping in and out of you as she massages your clit with her tongue. Her eyes flutter open and you're already staring down at her, your expression enough to make her cum alone.

"Don't stop–fuck," your eyes are shut now, the image of Paige between your legs too much to handle. "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum." the words tumble out of your mouth as though you can't get them out quick enough.

You feel Paige’s mouth pull away and panic surges through your chest, lips parting to protest—Why? Why now?—until you hear it; the distinct ptu of her spit hitting your clit. It trails down, mixing with your arousal, sliding over your folds and further down to where her fingers are buried inside you. It drips lower, toward your ass before soaking into the sheets.

Your breath hitches in your chest but Paige is leaning forward again before you can complain at the loss of her mouth on you, finding your clit again with a hunger that makes your head spin. She’s relentless with it, tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, teasing it as her fingers curl deep inside, pressing against that perfect spot. You think you might actually die, hands tightening in her hair as you pull her in. Her head shakes against your pussy, moaning into you and the chord snaps.

"Fu-uck," it comes out as a cry from the depths of your chest, orgasm pulling you under as your back arches and heels kick against Paige's back as she fights to hold you down. “Yeah, fuck—yes, yes, yes,” you chant breathlessly, voice breaking as the pleasure overwhelms you. Tears sting at the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision as your muscles spasm, body trembling from the force of your orgasm.

Paige finally pulls back, her mouth and chin slick and glistening, and she stares up at you, nothing short of amazed. You look completely wrecked—head thrown back, chest heaving as you gasp for breath, your body still shaking. She clambers over you, hands wiping against the sheets as she comes face to face with you.

“Damn, you're a mess,” she murmurs softly, almost like she hadn't been the one to do this to you. Her hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing away the stray tears that streak your hot skin. She's gentle, as though you'll break if she touches you too hard.

Paige leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, but the sensation is slick and sticky. You wince at the feeling, brows furrowing and her lips twitch in a small smile as she pulls back.

“Sorry,” she laughs softly, a breathless sound, before she rubs the residue away with her thumb. “better?”

You nod weakly, still struggling to catch your breath, and a glimmer of amusement dances in her eyes. She licks her lips, a playful smirk forming. “So,” she whispers, voice low and teasing as she holds herself up above you, “out of ten?”

"Maybe a 4?"

"Okay, fuck you!"

@iamsamxo this ones for u. thank u for reminding me this fic existed lmao!!!

[deadpooldomme]

Getting in the holiday spirit 🥰

Having a sweet boy putting out decorations with me and setting up the tree, while I casually get him more worked up as we go. Telling him to put ornaments in certain spots and dropping a good boy when he does as he’s told. Petting his hair and grabbing his waist when I move past him while we set things up. Telling him how cute he’s being today, and how he always follows my direction so well. And just as he’s starting to get too distracted to continue, I tell him we have one more box of decorations. His initial reaction is pouting, but then I watch his eyes light up as I pull out new ropes and ties to wrap him up like a gift. I’d take my time tying him up all nice and pretty, not forgetting the bows and ribbons to really sell his Christmas gift look. When I finish he would look so pretty, especially with the Christmas tree lights reflecting on his puppy dog eyes, that it would take everything in me to not just fuck his cute face while he’s so helpless, but first I have to get some pictures for the Christmas card! You better sit nice and still for me, you don’t want to be naughty before you get your real gift, do you, puppy?

[tan1shere]

Save Me

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: I know I got inspired by something but I can not remember- it mightve been from the show I just finished I dunno BUT I hope you all enjoy this angsty Rollercoaster 😁

Summary: Your life wasn't as colorful as it may seem. When you reunite with an old girlfriend you were finally able to get out of the hell hole. She took you away from all the harm. She, saved you.

Warnings: angst ! - happy ending duhr, abusive partner, ptsd - think that's it, lmk if I missed anything !

Tags (forgot to do this oopsies) @trulyy-yourzz @eilishslut @brat-at-the-disco @iluvapplesxh @chrissv4mp @n0vabug @dollyvuu

Masterlist

"Fine, whatever I'm too tired for this."

Those were your last words as you open the dark brown front door. It was the Christmas holidays so everything was hectic. Your life, family. Your supposed partner. Partners were suppose to be in everything together. You truly wanted to be but Bri, was far from any of that. You have been going out for over 6 years now. First few were wonderful, then the reality kicked in and you saw her for her true self. A fucking bitch. But you couldn't just leave. You couldn't and it was stressing you out. There was two main concerns.

One, she started getting crazier as years led on. So you had zero clue what she might do if you leave. Two, there was a bigger thing in your life that had your main focus. You couldn't, not right now. So you had to suck it up. Three words you despise. But it had to be done. It was another day of arguing, oh joy. This time you just couldn't handle sitting around the house moping because of her harsh words. Her horrid temper. It reminded you all to well of your father. Someone who you had finally got out of your life, only to be replaced with the exact replica. "My mistake." You breathe.

It was cold, you had grabbed the first jacket on the coat rack before you left. You needed something to drink or a place to hide out that was warm. And far away. You open the door to a little Cafe. Heading over and ordering a hot chocolate. One of your favs. You grab it, going to turn around when you were face to face with. "Oh sor- Billie?" Your head tilts, looking at all her features. Yup it was her. "Y/n? Oh my God, it's been years!" She gives you a hug, dipping down just a little. You were shorter than her, than alot of people actually. Maybe that's why you always felt so weak, so inferior.

"I know, how are you?!" You say with such a wide smile, you missed her. You think about her often. But like most high-school relationships they never tend to last. She eventually got famous, being bigger and amazing. She had moved in the process, which you couldn't do. You loved your home town. So ofcourse everything left on good terms. Mostly. You did hurt for months after. She truly was your bestfriend too. So to loose both at the same time, hurt a fuck ton. Maybe you never truly got over it. "I'm actually doing very well. You?" You think for a moment. "Yeah, peachy." Peachy?

You internally face palm. She didn't really seen to pick up on it though. Or maybe she did but she just wanted to leave it. "What's been happening in the years?" You both go to sit down at a empty table to chat. "Well." You start but stop for a moment. What do you even say. Do you mention your girlfriend, your home together. Your daughter. Yeah. That's the 'thing' you've been worried about the most throughout all this. "Well, I uh. I met someone. We've been going out for just over 6 years. We have a place together and yeah." You didn't know if you could tell her. Was it weird? Even if it was some high-school relationship. You and Billie had been dating for about 8 years. It wasn't just some silly thing.

How would she react. Billie was amazing with kids. Even back then she was just the sweetest, silliest around one. It warmed your heart. And that is who you pictured yourself with. Pictured marrying having your own children with. But no, it's gone horribly. Bri isn't great with kids. Never horrible to Carley, near incidents. But you'd never ever let that happen. Sure you let her tread on you, horrible to say but thats who you were. You haven't always been like this. It's her to blame honestly. She ruined you. But you'd kill for your daughter. You two had a special bond, super close. Maybe that angered Bri more.

"How about you? Now that you're massive everywhere. Do occasionally hear your songs from time to time my-" You cut yourself off. "Friends all love it too." She smiles at you. "Things are good, hectic but amazing. I think about you alot you know." You look at her, her eyes. Those same eyes that you fell inlove with. As you do you realize that feeling never left. "I do also, there isn't a day you don't slip my mind." A comfortable silence was in the air for a moment. Something you had missed between the two of you. So soothing.

No screaming, no arguing. You and her kept talking about anything and everything, when your phone starts blowing up. Texts, calls. You hadn't noticed at first until Billie says something. "And I thought I was the famous one." She laughs. But her eyes linger on your lockscreen. It was some child. You quickly pick your phone up. "Just probably emails and such from work." She nods. "Hey, speaking of that. What do you do now?" You smile wide. "Office work at the moment. But, it is leading up to what I want to do." She now smiles. "You always were very driven." - "Wonder who I got that from." You say, still having a smile on your face.

With work. Her and your job. You hadn't felt much recently. Kind of empty. Depressed. It wad hard keeping everything together for everyone else. But not for your own well being. Putting on fake smiles forever. But now, now you were genuinely smiling. Something Billue has always succeeded in doing. Whenever you were sad. Instant cheer up was her. Her hands go to touch yours. "Let's keep in touch this time. Please. I have to go but I'd love to catch up properly next time." You reluctantly nod. "Yes ofcourse. I should probably go too. Get to these texts and such." You both stand going to give one last hug before leaving.

She still smelt the same. God you felt like crumbling, crying. Letting everything out. You cry alot actually. No one sees it. Whether it's a little one at work, or at night while bri is out somewhere. Drinking. Carley had caught it once. You tried telling her it was just a sad movie you had watched. You hated lying but the less she knows the better. She needed parents who loved her. Who didn't fight infront of her. She pulls back putting her hands on your head. "It was good bumping into you." - "Like wise."

Bri.

Where tf did you go.

Get home for fuck sakes. We can sort this out.

And pick up Carley. I'm not doing it.

"I'm not doing it, you do it because you don't do anything all day, while I sit on my fucking ass drinking. Blah blah. Blah." You grip the steering wheel letting out a dry breath. What has this life become. You saw it differently. You had managed to get the dream job. But in reality that wasn't happening. Another thing you lied to Billie about. Your boss was an asshole. Another one in your life. She treated you poorly. Which was interesting because you were the one making the good money, you made a bunch. Bri? She doesn't do anything no job. You then get distracted by the radio playing one of Billies songs. You turn it up.

Scoffing at what one it was 'Lost Cause' "What perfect timing radio." You laugh a little, how ironic. Deciding to clear your mind and sing on your way to pick your daughter up. She was having a little play date with a friend from school. Once you get there she's already out and coming in to see you. "Hi mama!" She says cheerfully. You smile so wide. "Hi pumpkin, had fun!?" She nods, putting her seat belt on. You were so proud when she came home saying she had a friend. Carley is quite a shy girl, like you when you were younger. So it was such happy news when she came to you super excited. "Her mums really nice too, you'd like her, and oh my God they have fun snacks." You smile. "I bet I will, that sounds so fun baby."

You get into the house, afraid. You never ever dreamed of being afraid to step into your own home. But you had Carley. Bri would never ever do anything infront of her. You made sure of it. "Go play love, dinner will be ready soon." She runs upstairs and that's when shit happens. "Where the fuck did you go?" You sigh, going into the kitchen. "I went to go clear my head. You know what that's like." She shakes her head. "For nearly an hour?" You stay quiet, getting things set up. "Answer me damn it." - "Yes for nearly an hour." She stares at you. "I want steak." "Didn't plan on doing that tonight." You mumbled. "What was that?" A quiet sigh leaves your lips. "Yes babe. Steak it is."

That's what it was usually like. You'd always avoid arguments. You couldn't bear it. Not only because you hated being yelled at, but you never wanted Carley to hear. She shouldn't have to hear such things about her parents. Bri goes back over to the couch. God you were miserable, how did you attract such fucked up shit.

Ever since Billie left that day years ago, you'd been a mess. You were blind to everything. She kept you grounded and once that was gone. You didn't know what to do with yourself. Lately you've been sleeping alone. How lovely, sometimes it was. Having the whole bed to yourself. Others, it was just lonely. Tonight you wanted to revisit those times, reminisce on old memories. "Mama?" You hear Carleys small voice. "Yes baby?" She comes over to you, getting on the bed. Or trying to. "I just wanted to say night, whats all this?" She picks up a Polaroid of you and Billie. "Old photos of when I was in high-school." - "Who's this mama?" You look at the photo she had in hand.

"Just an old friend sweetheart." She nods. "She looks kind of familiar." You so wanted to tell her about it. But you just couldn't. Carley actually adores her music and has many merch pieces in her room. Which was what you were going to say to Billie earlier today. "Yeah. She was pretty memorable." She stares at more laid out. "What happened, why arent you friends no more?" You take a moment, getting choked up by one photo. "Uhm, just went our separate ways. She was on to bigger and better things, and I was still figuring things out." You smile at her, motioning for her to come over to you. You kiss her head. "I love you. Go say goodnight to mommy too, yeah?" She nods, going to get down. "Ok mama!"

A few days had passed and you were planning to meet Billie. You got to go home earlier that day so you decided now was the time. You met at some beach, a calm place to take a walk. "So it's the job you always wanted, the one when we were younger?" The sand was warm, calming everything inside you. "Yeah, not yet but I'm close to." Liar. "I'm so proud of you! Gosh, we both got what we wanted." Your eyes look down, it was all lies. Your whole life. "Anyways enough about me. Hows fame treating you?" She laughs a smidge. "Great but alot of the time not. Majority its amazing. The fans are sweethearts but I hate calling them that. They're just- friends I haven't met yet." You loved how warm she was towards everyone. Happy that hadn't changed in the slightest.

"Latest album has been out for months now and it's doing great." You nod. "It's probably a favorite of mine, I love all the songs. They're absolutely beautiful." She gives you a soft smile. "Thank you, it means alot coming from you." You look at her confused. "Why so?" "Because I loved your judgment years ago, you were so creatively smart. So cute with your ideas. I admired it." Your smile was loving. You haven't heard such nice things in a very. Very, long time. "Well I'm glad I could be of service." Her laugh comes back, booming in your ears. God you missed hearing it. "You still look beautiful, different. But still gorgeous." You blush at her words. "Different?" - "Well, we're all older but you just look so, elegant and-"

She chuckles to herself. "Who is this lucky woman, she should be cheering out of her mind." Your demeanor changes. "Oh stop." You then try to hide. Hide your true emotions. "I mean it! She should know how lucky she is." A silence grows. One with hanging questions, lingering. "Who was that on your phone the other day?" You look at her bewildered. "Your lockscreen I mean." Shit, she did see. "Oh, just my friends daughter." Her brows furrow. "You have your friends daughter as your lockscreen?" Nice going. "Uhhh, yeah I'm like her aunt and she's just so adorable." You just hoped she'd move on. The less she knows the better.

You were currently at Billies place. She invited you for lunch getting to see her brother again after all these years too. You were currently sitting on a soft couch, soaking up the silence between one another. Until...

"Who was that really. On your lockscreen." You smile slightly. "I told you-" "Y/n, I use to date you. I know exactly when you're lying." Everything goes still. "Do you have a kid?" You slowly nod. She looks at you. "Why didn't you just tell me?" Her voice was so soft. You hadn't heard a soft voice other than your daughters in a long time. It was just yelling, yelling and more yelling. "I just-" She gives you a look knowing you were about to come up with some pathetic story. "I didn't want you to know the real me." She laughs a little. "I already do. I knew it all those years ago and I still do. But, you have changed. You're more timid." Your eyes move, looking at her.

"Spill, come on." You sigh, shakily. "I'm not perfect, nothing in my life apart from my daughter is. I didn't want you to think less of me." Her face softened. "I could never. I've always seen you as amazing." You smile again, she always brought out the true you. Maybe thats why you haven't been yourself over the years, she was missing. "When can I meet this angel?" You freeze. "Uhm, I dunno. It's just." She waits for a reply. "I don't think that's a good idea." Shes confused. Incredibly confused. "Why?" "I think I should go." You stand up going to leave but she's quick. "Did I say something wrong?" Your head shakes. "No no! It's just getting late I should get back." Something funny was up, she had a feeling.

"Alright.. I'll text you." You hold a thumbs up scurrying out of there. She was going g to find out whatever it was you were hiding. She needed to.

Another day of arguments. Carely at school. Perfect opportunity to scream. "You're fucking stupid." - "Why now, I've got a million-" Her hand lands straight on your face. Shes only ever done it twice and it ofcourse shocks you each time. She was getting worse and it just frightened you. Who knows what could be next. "Are you talking back?" She sounded like some sadistic man. She sounded exactly like him. "Bri." - "That was a question darling." You cringed inside, swallowing. "No.." She hums. "Good. This argument is stupid, just get back to cleaning." You just wanted to scream and shout. She was insufferable. You hated how weak you'd get whenever she'd yell, it brought up your ptsd. And it made you realize why the slapping didn't bother you as much as it should.

Another thing he did. Did he train her or something it was like being a kid again. Your childhood being relived.

There was a knock on the door but the vacuum cleaner cleared that sound out. Carley on the other hand was in the living room right next to it. She gets up, opening it and gasping. "Y- you're Billie Eilish." She was dumbfounded, feeling like she was dreaming. "Sure am, is your mum home?" She blinks. "My mama? She's hoovering. Come come." Billie giggles at the little girls choice of words, following her into the house. "Mama! Billie Eilish is here, Billie Eilish!" You turn it off shocked. "How did you-" "I know my ways." You stop what you were doing. "What're you doing here?" Carely was so giddy it was nearly impossible to ignore. "Well I hadn't heard back, so I decide the one way that I knew I'd get your attention."

"Just showing up at my home?" You laugh a little. "I mean you wouldn't be able to escape." Carely pokes Billies hand, causing Billie to look down at her. You were so thankful Bri was out drinking. Never a sentence you thought you'd ever utter but here we are. "Ms Billie Eilish, I loveeee your music." Billie laughs again. "Shes interesting." You smile. "She's the sweetest, always so polite." Billie smiles more. "You like my music huh?" Carley nods frantically. "How do you know my mama?" Billie looks at you, not sure what to say. You bend down, wiping hair out of her face. "You know those photos I was looking at weeks ago and you saw that little Polaroid? That was her." She looks at Billie. "Woahhh you were friends with her back then?" You nod.

"You said we were friends." You stand back up. "Well yes, I'm not going to talk about relationships to her she won't really understand anyways." Billie gives you a look. "You're hiding something." You grab the vacuum. "Is this why you came over here?" She nods, making you sigh. "There's nothing Billie I promise." Carely then taps her hand again. "Ms-" "You can just call me Billie, angel." She smiles at her. "Billie, can I show you my room?!" - "Well Billie must be going soon." Her brow raises. "Am I now?" "Mhmm, so be super speedy baby." She pouts. "Naww, ok mama." Carley grabs Billies hand taking her into her room.

You prayed Bri doesn't come back anytime soon. But you doubt she would. "I have a little collection of your stuff!" Billie smiles looking at the CDs and necklaces, even a tiny little purfume bottle as that's all she'd need. The cutest thing ever is she never wants to waste it. You stand at the door, watching. "Wow you have quite a collection little miss. I'm very proud!" She giggles. Picking up the perfume. "I always do one tiny spray each day before I got to school." Billie looks at you. "She the cutest thing ever." "I know." You say lovingly. "What do you say about a bigger one? Just from me. I can give it to you in a few days."

Carleys already bouncing up and down. "Oh my God! Yayyy, Billie Eilish is giving me her perfume!" The jumping continues making Billie smile and laugh. "It's ok, really you don't have to do that." - "I'm not taking no for an answer miss thing." She puts a finger up. Making your eyes roll playfully, ending with a smile. "I better get going kid. In a few days yeah?" Carley nods, watching Billie bend down to hug her. It was so gentle and sweet. This, was how it was suppose to go. Exactly like this.

"I'm home!" Bri yells, Carley flying into her arms. "Mommy!" She smiles. "Hi my princess." You come down to see her, surprisingly not as drunk as she usually is. Damn it. You kinda wished she was because- "What's that smell." Shit. "What smell?" She sniffs. "It smells like perfume- strong one too. Nothing that you wear either." Your heart rate escalates. "Hey mommy! Guess who I met today!" Fuck fuck fuck! "Who did you meet?" "Billie Eilish!" Her brows furrow. "The singer? Now where on earth did you meet her?" 3. 2. 1. "She came to the house!" Bri raises her head looking at you. "Did she really?" Carley nods. "Well that's awesome darling, why don't you go up to your room and blast her music for me?" Fuck. "Okay mommy!"

Her little legs sprint upstairs, soon after hearing a slight boom of the songs. You go to speak but a hard slap goes straight to your face. "You said you blocked her." Shes backing you up. "I- it wasn't planned we bumped into one another in a coffee shop-" You back up in the process. "Cut her off." "Bri-" Your back hits the wall making you gasp. "I can't ju-" Her hand grips your throat. Your eyes widening. "Cut. Her. Off." Flashbacks flicker making you panic. "B-bri!" Her grip tightens. "I don't want that stupid bitch in here again, especially while I'm not here." Your eyes water from the impact her hand is causing. "Understand me?" You nod as best as you could. "Good. Dinner." And that was the last thing she uttered, heading upstairs. You fall to your knees catching your breath.

Knowing that's going to leave a nasty bruise at how harsh she was gripping. You try to calm yourself down, you had to keep going like you were fine. But it was getting harder and harder as days go on.

A few days go by, and you had completely ghosted Billie. You were more scared than you were before, that whole incident the other night was mortifying. So you sadly just listened. The bruise was still there not as evident but noticeable. You had put makeup on it to make it even more invisible. Then something you dreaded happened. There was a knock on the door and you go to open it, ofcourse it was Billie...

"What's happening? I texted you but you-" Her eyes wander. Your brows furrow as to why. Her hand goes to touch your neck. "Is that a bruise?" Fuck, water had splashed when you were doing the dishes. "Oh uh- just burned myself? With a straightener." Curse words fly in your brain, you both knew how horrible of a lie that was. "Did someone do this to you?" Your head shakes quickly. "No i-" But there was no point I finishing, Bri was right behind you. "You must be Billie." She looks at her. "Yes! You must be Y/n's girlfriend." Billie sticks her hand out, only for it to stay there.

"Can we help you." Your gaze lowers, hating every second of this moment. "Uh, I was just coming by to drop a few things off for Carley." And in the nic of time there she was rushing to the door. "Billie!" Bris teeth grind together. You Look out the corner of your eye, cringing. "Hey I, got a wholeeeee box load of stuff for you." She gasps, looking at all the different merch items. "Billie, you really didn't have to." She gives you a smile. Knowing things are strange right now. "I'll just head off, nice meeting you." The door was slammed. Making Billies head turn. She was about to leave, but she overhears.

"I thought I told you to cut her off." You look at Carley. "Go to your room baby." Her features change. She looked scared, the tone is Bris voice not only frightening you but your daughter. That's the last thing you wanted. Now you were angry. As she runs away you look at Bri. "Cut that out." She looked appalled. "The fuck did you just say?" You look at her. Little did you know this most definitely wouldn't go further. "You promised you'd never act that way infront of her." Bri scoffs. "Yeah well guess what I did. Wanna circle back to what you just said to me?" "Yeah. I told you to quit being a piece of shit, especially infront of our daughter."

This was no slap. Far from it. Her fist meets smack dab in the middle of your face. You tumble back at the impact, tripping and landing on your ass. Smacking your head hard, on a wall. You grab your face, but everything was happening fast. The door swung open. A cry was to be heard. Your mind races to that trying to get up but your being pushed back down. Now you're the one in tears. You knew those cries, and you needed to get to them. Everything blurs, your head spinning in the process. You hear a muffled voice saying something along the lines of 'you useless cunt'

But you couldn't care less, all you were thinking about was Carley. Your vision clears a bit, seeing her run over to you and hide behind you. You grip her hand, trying your hardest to stay as conscious as possible. When more smacks are heard you hide your face, hiding hers with it. You soon feel hands grabbing at you. But you were too scared to even fight it. Grabbing Carely in your arms. But it wasn't Bri who grabbed you. You were half way out the door when you realized it was Billie. She hadn't left. No words were spoken, cries from your daughter and swearing clouded your ears.

You look into Billies eyes feeling hopeless. And that's all before things went black.

Your head stirs, eyes opening a tad. You were on some couch. Your head pounded as you sit up slightly. Where were you.. But it clicks when you hear a female voice. Everything floods back. "Where is she?" You say frantically. Billie pushes you back gently. "Shes fine, she's ok. She's downstairs playing with shark." You relax slightly. But that doesn't last long as tears spill out. She brings you into her arms, holding you securely. "It's ok, you're away. You're here. You're safe." You violently shake as things become intense. Her hand soothes your back as you sink further into her touch, her warmth. This stayed that way for a good minute. Before you calm down just a bit.

"Why didn't you try telling me?" Her thumb swipes under your eye. "It's not that easy.. She was the only one I was concerned over." Billies eyes drop with sadness. "You were miserable babe. You needed to think about yourself too." "She was all that was good in my life." You say, tears silently dropping. "I didn't want to screw anything up." The tears start to resurface. "Hey hey, you didn't you're the best mother ever. She's so loved by you, even if that stupid bitch didn't. She knows she's loved. You've done great." It made you want to sob more. Not because you were hurt by her words.

The complete opposite. You hadn't heard such kind things in a very long time. "I'm here. I want to be in your life again, help you. Help raise her even. I miss you and I've never stopped loving you." Her confession makes your tears turn to happy ones. You leap forward and kiss her sweetly. "I've never stopped loving you either." Your foreheads touch, savoring this beautiful moment. "Mama?" You then hear Carleys small voice. You turn your head, wiping your tears. "Hi baby." You smile. "You're ok mama, you can cry." Your face softened, gesturing for her to come over. "You know I love you yeah?"

She nods kissing your cheek. "I don't like mommy no more. She hurt you." She hugs you tight. "I just wanted to protect you." Carley moves to stand infront of you. Her little hands on either side of your face. "You did mama." You kiss her bringing her in close. "Besides, Billie said she can be like my new mommy!" You laugh a little. "You said that?" She shrugs. "More or less." Billie winks at carley, making her grin.

Things were exactly how they were always suppose to be. You lived with Billie now, Carley having a bigger room. More to choose from. Your job was fully sorted, much to the help of your beautiful girlfriend. You felt such love from Billie. She never let you cook unless you really wanted to. Nights were always warm, sleeping beside you. Kisses for days, never ending. She's incredibly good with Carley too, which wasn't surprising. You were currently watching TV, Billie and her sitting on the floor. But let's face it, you weren't actually watching TV, how could you when the two people you adored were being so cute infront of you. "Nooo!" Billie says in the silliest way, playing whatever it was with her. This was the happy ending you wanted.

Although. So much was to be uncovered. Things left unspoken. The drama was surely not over yet.

- uhm so.. might be a new series ? This was unplanned but my brains BURNING with ideas.

[featherandferns]

day 1/24 - obx christmas countdown

'I want you to know that I'm never leaving' - Sia, Snowman | angst-fluff | jj x fem!reader | keep track of the obx christmas countdown here!

You stir in the night cocooned in blankets. Groaning, you blink yourself awake and squint at the bedside table's alarm clock. The glaring digital letters read three a.m. With another grunt, you roll over and kick off some of the covers. As your eyes slip shut, your body moves to snuggle into JJ’s like a reflex. You always slept on the left of the small double and him on the right. More times than not, you’d end up with all the covers and him with none, but considering he ran like a boiler engine, it didn’t much bother him. But when your hand reaches out to splay on his warm bareback, you frown and open your eyes at the feel of soft cotton sheets. Weird. 

You shove the rest of the sheets off you with a huff. Kildare was warm enough during the days of December so long as you had a hoodie to hand, but at night, when the sun went to sleep, it cooled off. As you step across the creaking floorboards, you grab JJ’s hooded flannel and tug it on as an extra layer. The old house warns of your coming: aching doors and whining floors. It’s dark as you venture through the halls until there’s a cosy golden glow from the living room. One of the lamps is on. You poke your head into the room to find JJ staring out the window into the thick of the night. 

“Hey,” you broach quietly. He doesn’t jump. He must have heard you coming. 

“Hey,” he replies, just as quiet, not bothering to turn. You make your way over and take a seat by his side on the coach. The sleepiness still lingers in your bones so you rest your head against his arm. 

“How come you’re awake?” you wonder through a yawn. 

“Jus’ thinkin’,” he murmurs. Something about the way he says it tells you it isn’t entirely peaceful thoughts. It feels too early to pry and too late to question. You know JJ as well as any Christmas carol; he’ll tell you when he’s ready. “I hate Christmas, y’know?”

“Does one of the J’s in your name stand for Scrooge?” you try to joke. He chuckles silently, his body shaking softly against your cheek. The skin of his arm smells like shea butter soap and sandalwood. “I didn’t know you hated Christmas.”

“Not as much anymore. Just when I was a kid. Reminded me of all the stuff I didn’t have. I don’t know…Guess it made me angry,” JJ drawls. “I mean, you know that I didn’t have all that much growing up. Dad was never around and never made much effort. It just sort’a ended up being another day. Except…”

“Except it wasn’t?” you offer when his voice trails off. He hums. You nod. 

It’s hard to pass Christmas off as any other day when everything around you is screaming about how it’s so wonderful. The songs, the adverts, the windows, the houses, the movies, the people…All of it. It’s like insisting that you’re not hot whilst staring directly into the sun. 

“And I would just count down the days until it was January again and everyone would just shut the fuck up about it, y’know?”

You hum. He sighs and you glance up to see him hang his head. His blonde hair is shaggy from sleep and dangles in front of his eyes. Sitting up, you reach out a hand and comb it back for him. JJ’s eyes are heavy with tiredness when he looks at you. 

“We don’t gotta do anything for Christmas,” you tell him. Nodding your head towards the hall, at the other bedrooms, you add, “the others can do whatever they want but we can just do our own thing.”

JJ shakes his head, smiling smally. “You love Christmas.”

“Meh. I love lots of things,” you shrug with a smile and roll of your eyes. It was true, you did love Christmas, but you loved JJ far, far more. If celebrating was going to remind him of bitter days then you were more than happy to sit it out together. But JJ shakes his head again. 

“We don’t gotta skip it,” he tells you. Your brows tug together. He still sounds deflated, losing his usual glow like a crack in the most stunning tree bauble you’ve ever seen. It must be easy to read on your face, the concerned curiosity. Shaking his head, he looks back out the window. He rakes his hands through his hair. “It’s stupid.”

“Maybe. Tell me anyway.”

Laughing quietly, he takes a breath and closes his eyes. “I…I’m scared to celebrate Christmas with you.”

You frown and try your best not to be offended. “Oh?”

“I just…God, how do I fuckin’ use words…" JJ sighs again, aggravated, and rubs at his forehead. Then, he looks down at you. The anxiety in his eyes makes you want to cry. “Christmas didn’t mean anything to me until you showed up. And now that we’re finally a...we...Well, I guess I’m scared to actual enjoy Christmas cause what if it goes back to being just another day?"

You try to follow his words like footprints in snow. Nodding slowly, you think aloud. “So you’re saying, what if you let yourself enjoy it, and then we don’t make it, and you have memories about Christmas that are actually happy?”

Laughing, he smiles, shaking his head, a little disbelieving. “You can always read my Goddamn mind.” But the smile slips away into sadness. Tears rush to his waterline and your heart cracks. You’ve never heard his voice so feeble, so raw, when he admits, “I don’t wanna lose you.”

Your joy at cracking the riddle is short lived. Sitting up onto your knees, you reach for JJ’s hand and take it in yours. You squeeze, hard. “You're not going to lose me. I’m never leaving, a’right? Ever.”

He shakes his head and closes his eyes, likely willing the tears away. “You don’t know that. Everybody leaves eventually."

“Hey,” you say, firmly, forcing his eyes open into yours. Nodding, sincerely, you affirm, “I mean it. I’m never leaving. You’re my home, JJ. All seasons round - not just Christmas.” 

The moment wraps around you like a blizzard. Your smile is shaky, eyes damp, voice thick as you confide in him. “You’re all I have too, JJ. The only thing that matters to me. The only thing that I truly, deeply, love.”

JJ exhales like he’s been holding his breath for a lifetime. His forehead gently bumps yours as he dips it. “What’d I do to get you?”

Smiling, you lift a hand to cup his jaw. On your thumb that rests on his cheek you feel a teardrop. You wipe it away. Nobody else saw this side of JJ. The quiet, tender, vulnerable side. The times that the child that hid inside of him, safe from his father’s reprimanding hand, crawled out into the glow of moonlight. You’d never let that privilege be forgotten. Pressing a kiss against his lips, short and sweet like peppermint candy, you shrug. 

“I think I'm the one that’s got the best gift of all.”

[kitkat13001]

This event is so cute!! Thank you for doing it!

Tomura Shigaraki + 1 (Tangled Christmas Lights)

ꨄ︎ 𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 | 𝚝. 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚔𝚒

tomura scowls at you from where you’re bent over laughing at him. 

“what the fuck?!” he cries, offended. “are you gonna help me or are you gonna keep laughing?”

he’s answered only by the sound of your wheezing as you struggle to get a breath in through your giggle fit. 

he seethes at you, stewing in his rage,  and utterly immobile. 

“tomu,” you finally manage when you can breathe again, “how the hell did you manage to get this tangled up in the lights? i ask you to help decorate the tree and i come back and you’re kakuna.”

it’s true, he looks like some sort of cocoon pokemon nestled up in all the lights from his neck to his calves. you don’t even know how that’s possible. 

“shut up!” he snaps, but there’s no real malice behind it. his cheeks are too red from embarrassment, and you know although he’d deny it to his grave, he’s asking you for help right now. 

you come over to him, looking over the tangled mess of lights entrapping his body, and rest your hand on his cheek. he leans into your touch, though his face is still screwed up in a scowl. 

“i’ve never done this before,” tomura huffs, pouting like a child now. “how was i supposed to know? they…they sprang out of the box like they were alive and then…”

you give another laugh, softer this time, and start on unraveling the mess that is your boyfriend. “i know, honey. it’s okay, i’ll get you out.”

“my hero,” he scoffs sarcastically. 

“i’ll leave you here like this if you want.”

“don’t! i’ll be quiet now, promise.”

hihi! i hope you liked 🫶 thanks sm for the req! i had fun writing it, this was cute. i enjoy a humiliated tomura. happy holidays! 🩷🩷 -𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢

[honey-flustered]

Kinkmas Day 1: Shared Girlfriend

Steddie x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sharing is, indeed, caring.

Warnings: established relationship, mentions of threeway activities, steve and eddie friendly competition for your praise, college!au

A/N: was in the drafts for kinktober so instead it’s christmas goodies instead 🎄

“Thank you so much for carrying my books for me, Eddie Bear. You’re so sweet.” You say with an adoring smile that immediately makes him putty in your hands.

“Anything for you.” Eddie replies dreamily, a dopey smile on his face while his love-stricken eyes refuse to leave your face. He mindlessly unloads your books into the locker, missing the entrance by a long shot as the books fall to the floor. It doesn’t register to him it seems because he continues to put away imaginary books oblivious to the mess he’s made of your things.

You giggle, shaking your head at him a little bit. “You’re so silly.”

Just as you were about to crouch down to collect the books, Steve swoops in and picks them off the ground for you.

“Allow me, princess, we don’t want you lifting a finger. Especially me.” He shoots you a dazzling smile.

“Funny you say that considering I was the one carrying all the books. Not you.“ Eddie mutters.

“Oh, so carrying her backpack and her lunch means absolutely nothing? My girl needs her #2 pencils and a balanced meal and I was able to protect them.” Steve defends.

“You’re right. My girl does need those things,” Eddie emphasizes by dropping a heavy hand down onto Steve’s shoulder. “Thank you for your service. You’ve been honorably discharged, soldier.”

“I’ll go once I get a kiss from my princess,” Steve shrugs off Eddie, stepping towards you. He bats his puppy-dog hazel eyes and pouts. “May I get a kiss?”

“Of course, baby.” You consent, grinning. Then, you’re leaning in, pressing your soft lips against his own. Fireworks burst behind Steve’s eyelids and he feels like he’s about to takeoff like a rocket.

You pull away, doing your best to wipe the excess of your lipgloss from his lips. Steve licks it instead, savoring your taste.

“Mmm, cherry.” He says, eyes just as dazed and love-stricken as Eddie’s once were. But Eddie’s eyes could only carry anger after the display before him.

The boys had no issue sharing you. Hell, the day they both laid eyes on you they were adamant that neither would back off from pursuing you regardless of their close friendship. Two-in-one confessions later, an intense three-way make out session—among other things—and you three decide to make the arrangement official.

Everything has been great…up until Eddie and Steve became a little competitive when it came to receiving praise from you. They’re BIG on praise. Words of Affirmation and Quality Time are their love languages. So, of course, when one would receive any kind of congratulatory words or praise, the other would go to even greater lengths to receive the attention as well.

Eddie touches his index fingers together, feigning shyness. “I get one too, right?”

You laugh. They’re both so cute. “Yes, Eddie Bear.”

You press your mouths together and both end up smiling into the kiss. When you pull away, Eddie takes a moment to reopen his eyes before they’re boring into yours.

“I love you.” He says with a dreamy sigh.

“I love you, too. Eddie Bear. And I love you, Big Boy.” You say, winking over at Steve then checking the time on your phone. “I have to go. My professor’s a real stickler for being on time and makes it everyone’s problem when we aren’t.”

“I’ll be counting down the seconds until we meet again, princess.” Steve says, taking your hand to place yet another kiss on your skin; his eyes never leaving yours.

“Pretty smooth, prince fucking charming.” Eddie thinks.

But he believes he can do one better. He may not be a gentleman but it’s not like you ever needed that from him anyway. Taking the same hand Steve kissed, Eddie places his lips over the same spot before tracing his lips up along your ring finger. He notices the slight shiver that courses through you, goosebumps rising along your soft skin. A chaste kiss is press along the soft pad of your fingertip, his tongue briefly tasting you.

“That should hold me until your return,” Eddie says, licking his lips before shooting Steve a shit-eating smirk. “Don’t be too long though or I’ll have to come in and get you myself.”

You nod in a daze, reluctantly parting from them while awkwardly stumbling into class; your knees buckling.

“You little devil.” Steve says with his arms crossed.

“Oh, you love it.” Eddie gloats.

[ghostgirl-22]

Somehow the conversation coming up that art doesnt know what he likes or knowing his own body because he always did what he was supposed to and no girl has felt the need or want to touch him because "hes the man and shouldnt need all that" "guys take care of the girl not the other way around" iykwim so patrick decides to help him figure it all out

How much pressure he likes, how wet he likes it, if he like gentle or nipping, gripping or biting.. where his erogenous zones are... kissing the sensitive parts of his inner thighs, what roles he likes to take, how he likes to be spoken to...?

U can ignore this part but Maybe pat asks "You never even tried doing it yourself? Like taken your time and see where your hands go?"

art says how would i be able to figure it out when i dont know where to start or what to do. Pat understands there probably a repression aspect to it aswell aand so they discover art together with pat guiding him through this new world/exploration

Omg! Your ask is literally ten times better than what I wrote but I love you for letting me try it dear nonnie <3

CW: 18+ !NSFW! Explicit

Basically this is just yearning and longing and porn with the thinnest of plots. So Artrick core.

——

It all comes out over holiday break. Art is staying with Patrick, it’s a few days after Christmas and Art’s parents are already busy with fundraisers and meetings. To them it doesn’t matter how Art gets back to Stanford, as long as he gets back so they could care less that Patrick keeps him for a few days.

They’re up too late. Patrick is lying on the floor with his laptop, looking up the scheduled matches for this season and who he’ll likely be playing. Art has taken over his bed, flipping channels on the television, going back and forth between American Pie on TBS and ESPN. Patrick is certain the sex conversation starts because they’re watching American Pie but what starts out as Art trying to get more information about Patrick’s sex life with Tashi leads to Art admitting he’s never really explored what he likes in bed.

“What do you even mean, explore?” Art asks, suddenly self conscious. He’s such a little perfectionist, checked off all the boxes, straight As, Ivy League college, division one tennis player, first girlfriend at the “right” age, lost it (many times) before high school finished. Patrick can tell it’s frustrating him to feel like he missed something. “Do you mean… touching myself?”

That’s really all it takes to divert Patrick’s attention. He shuts his laptop and sits up, gazing at Art. “Yeah jerking off is one part,” Patrick says, “But I meant what do you like?”

“I like having sex,” Art shrugs, “it’s simple. What else is there to explore?”

“Oh come on,” Patrick smirks. “It’s anything but simple. Do you even know your favorite position?”

Art rubs his arm, its so obvious he’s never even thought about it. “I don’t really… I mean um… I like… you know… the usual way.”

“Yeah that checks out,” Patrick says teasingly and Art’s gaze darkens.

”Why? How do you fuck Tashi?”

Patrick grins because he knew it was coming. “Nice try.”

Art huffs an irritated sigh. “Whatever man. Just because I’m not trying every position or whatever. I mean what difference does it make? She still…everybody still leaves happy.” Art picks up the remote and switches channels again like he’s done with the conversation but his skin is starting to flush.

He’s so easy. Patrick decides to push a little more. He shoves Art’s legs over and settles next to him on the full sized bed. Art just sits up, crossing his legs, he rests back on his palms.

Maybe it’s because Patrick helped him with his first sexual experience or maybe it’s because he has some kind of corruption kink but he loves whenever their relationship shifts back around to this show-me-how dynamic.

Art is so good at walking this line of self delusion that he’s this perfectly good straight boy… but when he needs something from Patrick. Usually experience. That’s when the lines start to blur. It’s a fucking mess but that’s exactly where Patrick lives.

“Look dude it’s not even about that.” Patrick continues. “It’s about… you remember when we were kids. You were so scared you’d suck at kissing so I—”

“Yeah I was a dumb kid,” Art interrupts quickly.

“Sure but you practiced…” Patrick points out. “And you’re a really good kisser now,” he says, smirking. Art looks away.

Patrick sighs. “I’m just saying if you play around… and learn what you really like. Sex can be really, really fucking good. Besides that’s half the fun of it anyway, right?”

Art chews his bottom lip and then he sighs. “It’s just… I mean I’m a guy… I thought I was supposed to look things up. I didn’t want to look like I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“What did you look up?”

“I don’t know, how to put on a condom? Only the first time. And like there was this article about unhooking different types of bra straps. Shut up,” he adds, shoving Patrick gently because he can’t help laughing at that.

“Okay how about this?” Patrick says, the ghost of a smile still on his lips. He leans back against the headboard, “Do you like it slow? Or do you prefer going fast?”

”Both,” Art says. “I like whatever she likes to do.”

“You don’t have a preference? What about when you’re touching yourself?”

Art plays with his tongue, rolls it back and forth in his mouth as he’s thinking. “Slower.” He says after a while. “Like… when I get the chance I like it…” He glances at Patrick and then looks determinedly back at the tv. “Slower.”

Patrick takes a breath and tries to slow himself down too but he can already feel his cock starting to fill up. “Okay what about touch? What makes you feel good? What gets you up?”

Art frowns. “I um… I don’t—- what about you? Where do you—” he sighs and then shakes his head. “Patrick, this is ridiculous.”

“No it isn’t, what’s ridiculous is you really don’t know what you like.”

Art is gripping the remote too tightly. “I know what I like,” he says.

“What?” Patrick gazes at him.

“Lots of stuff,” Art says.

“Like?”

Art rubs his thighs, Patrick looks down, following the anxious movement.

“I know something you like,” Patrick says after Art doesn’t say anything for a minute. “You want me to show you?”

Art starts playing with his tongue again, he takes a deep breath and nods and Patrick sits up so he’s close.

“You like it when someone kisses you here,” he brushes his knuckles along the junction between Art’s neck and collar bone and he shivers, pulling his shoulder up towards his ear. Patrick considers going in for the kiss but getting Art in a headspace is a delicate thing. It can lead everywhere and nowhere depending on how Patrick handles him.

And he knows Art… fuck… apparently he knows things about Art’s body that he’s not even aware of. This messy little “friendship” is gonna drive him crazy.

“Can I—“ Patrick lets his fingertips settle along the nape of Art’s neck where his curly hair is fine and baby soft. Art closes his eyes momentarily and takes a little breath.

”You like that too,” Patrick says.

“Yeah,” Art says softly.

Patrick licks his bottom lip to keep himself from licking at the flush on Art’s throat. “Do you like being on top? Or on the bottom?” Patrick asks, carefully.

Art opens his eyes and bites his lip again before taking a deep breath. “I think I prefer it when she… when she’s on top.”

“What do you like about it?”

“I don’t know… it’s hot. I mean…” he looks at Patrick. “I like looking at her tits when she….” He looks down shyly. Such a stupidly, pretty boy.

Patrick smirks. “So you're a boob guy.”

“So are you,” Art says, like he’s been caught doing something bad and doesn’t want to be the only one to get in trouble.

Patrick shrugs. “I love everything. I’m more of an ass man. But if you want to kill me show me a great pair of legs… I mean… fuck.”

Art rubs his thighs again. “I really like Tashi’s legs.”

“I bet you do,” Patrick smirks, leaning in. “What about you? You ever let her touch your chest?” He teases his fingers over Art’s t-shirt where his pecs are. Art gasps lightly as Patrick pinches just the right spot and the nipple starts to harden immediately. Patrick circles it lightly and Art shifts on the bed, pressing one hand into his lap and pushing Patrick away with the other. “Fuck no. That’s weird right?” Art asks, his voice a little pitchy.

God he fucking loves it. Patrick wants to push him down on the bed. But he sits on his hands to make himself behave. “What’s weird about it?” Patrick asks.

“I mean… I’m a guy. Why would she want to touch my… my nipples.” Art huffs a nervous little laugh.

“To make you feel good,” Patrick says softly.

Art licks his lips idly and lets out another breath.

“What about grip… do you like it soft?” Patrick asks.

Art nods. “Yeah.”

“This?” Patrick grips his wrist gently. “Or this?” He asks gripping a little tighter. “Or?” He grips tighter still, until Art squeezes his eyes shut.

“The… the middle… the second one.”

“Just right,” Patrick lets up on his grip. “What about here?” Patrick trails his fingertips…slowly… down Arts tummy.

“Stop,” Art breathes as Patrick’s fingers reach the elastic of his boxers.

Patrick shrugs, letting go of the elastic and smirking. He could do this all night. Touch and poke and prod and feel. He knows it’s turning Art on. He’s flushed so fucking beautifully, worrying his lips all red, squirming on the mattress.

“What about…” Patrick sits up on his knees and plays his fingers into Art's hair. Art looks up at him eagerly. Eyes fully dilated, lips parted, breathing shallow.

God.

Such a fucking pretty, pretty boy.

All Patrick wants now is whatever the fuck he can get away with. “Can I kiss you soft?” He asks as he presses his lips to Art’s mouth. Art nods and opens up, sliding his tongue into Patrick’s mouth right away, wanting it. Even though they’d only ever kissed a handful of times, ever since the first time their lips touched Patrick could tell that for Art kissing would be a Thing with a capital T. Patrick caresses the side of Art’s throat and feels it as he shivers. He listens to the way Art’s breathing. So aware of how Art’s body is moving. He’s opening up, he’s uncrossed his legs, knees pulled up, he’s grabbing at Patrick’s t-shirt trying to pull him closer as Patrick starts to deepen the kiss. Pressing his tongue more firmly into Art’s mouth. Art really likes that. He starts gasping, nibbling on Patrick’s lip before pushing his own tongue back in. When he starts moaning Patrick pulls back. His heart is railing against his ribcage and he’s losing himself. His hips are pressed in between Art’s legs feeling everything. Certain Art is feeling everything.

”Fuuckk,” Patrick breathes. He flops onto the bed resting his head on his pillow. If he were with Tashi right now he’d probably be halfway inside her already. Everything with her is impatient, horny and desperate. Everything with Art is pleading, anxious and pretending he doesn’t want it as badly as he fucking does.

Art is breathless, lips kiss swollen, he scoots back to get distance. “This is… so…”

“You like dirty talk?” Patrick interrupts.

Art smiles a bit and shrugs. “Kinda.”

“What’s kinda?” Patrick asks.

Art kicks his legs, lightly. “I like… I like when she tells me how she can’t wait for me to fuck her…”

Patrick sits up on his elbows. “Like I’m so wet for you baby, can’t wait to feel that big dick inside me?” Patrick says softly.

”Jesus Patrick,” Art says, covering his face.

“What?” Patrick says, smiling slightly at the reaction.

“You don’t have to say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you're wet,” Art whispers.

“So what do you want me to say?” Patrick says, he gets up again, abruptly crawling back into Art’s personal space. Art reacts at the sudden movement by opening his mouth… Patrick can see his little pink tongue, desperate for another kiss.

Art is gazing at him, pupils so large the rings of blue are barely visible. They’re so close, their lips are almost touching when Art licks his mouth. A horny little mess, if Patrick tried it now he thinks Art might let him fuck.

Patrick smiles and then leans against Art’s ear. “Can’t wait till you fill me up and fuck me good baby…” he murmurs softly.

“Yeah,” Art says quietly. “I can fuck you good.”

Patrick thinks he’s gonna go insane.

Art’s breathing starts to pick up again.

“Can you fill me up and stretch me… fuck me so hard I can feel you for days…” Patrick whispers.

“Mmhm,” Art hums eagerly, he starts lapping and sucking along Patrick’s throat, it’s so fucking yummy.

Patrick rubs his hand lightly along the inside of Arts thigh, trying to graze his knuckles along Arts cock. Art hitches another breath.

“That feel good?” Patrick asks gently.

“Yeah,” Art says breathlessly.

“You like it when she goes down on you before you fuck her?” Patrick asks.

“Yes, mm, yes,” Art says eagerly, shifting on the bed so Patrick can get between his legs. It’s so slutty the way he opens up so quickly, knowing what Patrick wants to do. Patrick presses a kiss along the inside of his upper thigh.

“Mm,” Art whines, and Patrick’s sure he’s just found another sensitive spot. He kisses it again, this time sucking at the skin there and Art moans properly. Patrick grins and starts palming him through his shorts. His own cock feels so fucking heavy. He’s thought about fucking Art since the first time he watched him nut all over himself but right now he feels like he’ll die if he doesn’t get this.

“You gotta tell me how you want it to feel,” Patrick says looking up at him. “Can you talk me through it?”

“What if your… what if we get caught?” Art whispers.

“Everyone is asleep by now I promise,” Patrick says.

”Are you sure?”

“Fucking yes.” Patrick says impatiently, though if he’s honest he wouldn’t give a fuck at this point if they were all right outside his bedroom door. He can’t help himself, he tugs Art’s shorts down to see it.

He’s still barely got any hair there and he’s definitely still blonde everywhere. He’s so hard, his cock is so pretty and pink and full to the tip, pearls of cum dripping. Patrick laps it up and Art hisses.

“Talk to me,” Patrick whispers. “You like it wet?”

“Fuck,” Art breathes. “I mean yes. Yeah I want it wet. Oh god.”

Patrick fills his mouth.

“Oh— oh— fuck—-“ Art groans, he’s so loud. His hips stutter but Patrick holds him down, swirls his tongue around, doesn’t swallow anything, just drools all over it. Arts toeing the bed, trying to push up. “Mm fuck your tongue can you… can you do it faster…” Art moans. So Patrick moves his tongue faster.

He doesn’t ask, maybe because he’s too far gone but he teases his fingertips up along Art’s entrance and the sounds that Art makes in response, make Patrick shiver.

“Patrick,” Art gasps, his body is practically vibrating. Patrick presses his fingers in a little deeper and he moans like the boys do when Patrick’s on those websites in the middle of the night with the volume down low. But Art can’t be quiet… and Patrick doesn’t want him to stop.

“Patrick! Patrick I can’t—- I think I’m gonna—I’m gonna fucking cum— holy shit—“ Art wasn’t even done saying Patrick’s name when Patrick’s mouth started filling up. And boy does it fucking fill up. Patrick’s swallowing, and swallowing and swallowing. He’s so greedy he doesn’t want to waste a single drop of it. Art is whining breathlessly when Patrick finally lets it drop from his mouth, still so shiny and red and wet, twitching helplessly. Patrick just stares at it, dizzy for a minute before he drops onto the bed next to Art and reaches between his legs and starts touching himself.

Art sighs and pulls his shorts up properly before rolling over. He puts his hand where Patrick’s is and starts helping. “What about you? Art asks softly. “What do you like?”

A/N: Sorry this took hundreds of years my love. I wanted to do better but unfortunately got lots to catch up on so it shall be good enough <3

[f4y3w00d5]

Niyx Raedon

"I'll always be with you, Kitten, for as long as their are stars in the sky" Niyx has been my all time favourite character for 4 years now, ever since I'd first read the Medoran Chronicles. Because of Niyx Raedon, I got Quotev, then Wattpad, then Discord, and now Tumblr.

Basically, he's a super hot immortal, and. Just. fuckin. crazy. He's flirty in a fun way, complete tease, and ive gone back and read all these books over and over just to read him again. He's just like - goddamn. Cos of him, Faye has black hair and purple eyes ^^

Morpheus

“You cry for him yet bled for me. One must wonder which is more powerful. More binding. I suppose we shall one day know.”

Been a while since I read this - altho rereading it now! Morpheus is fun, similarish vibes to Niyx but he aint platonic. Hes described as the 'classic bad boy trickster type' and hes just eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee and pretty!!! and he has a cockney accent lol

Albion

Considering as the person who made this one shall be tagged. this shall be. embarassing. but like ough his writings so goodddd Doesnt rlly do enough dialogue to take a quote but eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

anyways PROPOGANDA FOR HIM

hes a CANNIBAL HES A FUCKIN CANNIBAL ISNT THAT FUCKIN EPIC????????? I LOVE CANNIBALS!!!!!!!! AND HIS ATTITUDE THE WAY HE ACTS EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

definitely the type of character id go read fanfiction abt-

Benedict

pretttttttty sure thats his name? he appears like three times in the book lol hes a vampire and hes so vibeyyyyyyyyyy like MWAH

Ellis Haley

"Dont you ever wish you could go back? To some other time, when things were a little wilder. When the rules were less clear."

Shes lesbian. Shes an author. I cant really say more without spoiling this amazing epic beautiful book-

Like shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit yall. Ellis!!! Shes!!! So!!! Cool!!!! I hate her!!!!!!!!! But also!!!!! Kissing her on the lips!!!!!!!

Alaska

"She smiled with all the delight of a kid on Christmas morning and said, 'Y'all smoke to enjoy it. I smoke to die.'"

Alaska!!!!! What else can I say!!!!!!!!! Alaska!!!!!!!!!!! Fuck did i love that book yall Made me cry in the time where i could barely bring tears

@tams-tism-talks @im-an-anthusiast @irishfry @gobodegoblin

@akronus-the-redeemed @monsterfucker-research-wizard @saphi-everything @ibuildblasters

Blorbo Poll

Rules: make a poll with five of your all-time favourite characters and then tag five people to do the same. See which character is everyone's favourite.

Tagged by @powersuitup. Probably very predictable picks for anyone who knows me but whatevs.

NP tagging @tweetthang96, @coolnerdyrn, @kayliemalinza, @raaorqtpbpdy, and @thephilosophersapprentice.

[harrygoeswest]

Secret Santa

At your yearly Secret Santa draw at work, you draw Harry's name.

Terms and conditions (TWs): a lot bit sweet and a little bit spicy. Penetration not included.

Word Count: 7,999

A/N: Hello hellooooo. Look at me posting a Christmas fic on the 1st December! I've been feeling very Christmassy this year so if I can get my shit together there will hopefully be another, totally unrelated, one in a couple of weeks time. Love you all, and thank you for always coming back when I decide to post something <3

~~~

“Alright, everyone gather ‘round.”

I look up over the top of my cubicle to the common area. Charles, the office manager, is standing on the coffee table—that is unlikely to hold his weight for much longer—with a plastic bowl in hand and a cheap Santa hat on his big bald head. It’s not even the end of November yet.

And yes, we do have to call him Charles. Not Charlie, because ‘adding one extra syllable is stupid and unnecessary for a nickname’.

“It’s that time of year,” he says, grinning like a buffoon.

Trying to shove down my sigh, I push away from my desk and wander around the other cubicles to where the rest of the team is congregating by Charles.

“Are we all here?” he asks impatiently.

We’re not a very big office—ten of us total, including our illustrious leader, and a supervisor.

Looking around, it seems the supervisor himself is the only one missing.

Izzy, my partner in crime in this corporate hellhole, nudges my hip with her own from beside me. I bump her back.

“Are we doing secret Santa?” she asks.

“Certainly looks like it,” I mumble, and start picking at my nails.

“Why are we only nine,” Charles muses, doing another head count. “Oh—Harry! Come on!”

“Sorry!” Harry, the missing supervisor, calls back from some hidden place in the office. 

“Time is money, mate!”

I rub a hand down my face, failing to hide my weariness.

A second later, a lanky frame hurries to join the group, wearing form-fitting pressed grey trousers and a black cable knit jumper. Something is different about him where he stands a head above the rest of us. Something I’m trying to hide my shock at.

“Oh my God, Harry—,” Izzy blurts, “where’s your hair?!”

The group titters with laughter at Izzy’s shrill horror. Even I let out a snort.

Indeed, Harry’s once voluminous curls have been shorn to a neat buzz cut. Annoyingly, while I never would have pegged him as a sexy bald, he wears it well. What I’m struggling with is why he’d choose to do it in winter.

“I’ve made a hairshirt out of it,” he deadpans.

From the practical cricket noises following his declaration, I’ll assume no one in our office knows what the fuck a hairshirt is.

hair shirt

in American English

NOUN

1. a garment of coarse haircloth, worn next to the skin as a penance by ascetics and penitents

2. self-imposed punishment, suffering, sacrifice, or penance

“It’s now hanging pride of place in my lounge.” Charles grins. “Anyway, we’re doing secret Santa for our Christmas meal this year, which is on the fifteenth of December. Times are tight, I know,” spoken like a man who has never known what it’s like to be clawing his way to payday to make ends meet, “so the cap is a tenner. It’s just a bit of fun, alright? Let’s go.”

He holds the bowl out, and one by one we pluck out a folded scrap of paper. I’m not last, which means there’s still a selection of three by the time I get there. I pick one at random, sure to hate whoever I get.

I know I won’t be lucky enough to draw Izzy again like I did last year, but I suppose as long as I don’t get Charles, I’ll be satisfied.

HARRY

Motherfucker.

I’ve already started moving back to my desk so I can’t feign innocence and try and swap the name. The second-worst name I could’ve drawn—that of the supervisor. And a more-than-occasional object of my affection.

Is it inappropriate to have a crush on your supervisor? Not really. I’m sure lots of women fancy their seniors in the workplace. I’m all for women in senior positions, but there is something inherently attractive about men in power—not including Donald Trump. Ew. Add to the fact that said man is already hot shit and (I’m talking about Harry again), well, it’s a lost cause. Never mind the fact that we were both asked to interview for the supervisor role when the last one left and I turned it down.

Harry and I used to be cubicle neighbours who shared coffee breaks and threw scrunched-up notes to one another over the wall. Once we had a cat GIF email chain going that spanned 134 emails over twelve days. Now he sits at the other side of the floor in a private office where the door is always closed and we don’t make coffee for each other anymore. We definitely don’t send endless cat GIFs to one another.

I add the slip of paper with his name on it between a document I’ve finished with, and stick the whole thing in the shredder.

~

Later that afternoon, around three o’clock—when I hit a motivational wall and have to take a walk around the office for a change of scenery—I’m standing at the photocopier scanning an abhorrent amount of paper. I really wish the people who worked here could learn to be a little greener.

“So, who’d you get?”

I look up from my scanning to find Harry leaning over the printer, looking boyish and handsome all at the same time. There’s a delighted little gleam in his pretty green eyes, and I have to wonder when I last saw him looking so… mischievous.

“Wouldn’t telling you defeat the entire purpose of a secret Santa?” I retort.

“Yeah, but this is me. I can’t keep secrets and I’m bursting to tell someone mine.”

“Please don’t tell me who you have, Harry. Not again.” Because he told me who he’d drawn last year and then Izzy also let slip who she had as well, and by the end of the day I’d worked out who everyone had. “Also, if you’re so rubbish at keeping secrets, I’m definitely not telling you.”

He pouts. “You’re no fun anymore.”

I try not to let it show how much that comment bothers me. Especially that it came from him. “Apparently not.”

“Is it me?”

“No.” I say as calmly as I can manage. Of course he’d choose himself first, and the name I happen to have picked out.

“Izzy again?”

“No.”

Harry then proceeds to list off every name in the office, to which I pointedly reply with no, each and every time.

“But I’ve said everyone’s names.”

“Exactly.”

He sighs. “Fine. Do you know what you’re going to get for yours?”

“No.” And it was a painful truth. A year ago, if I’d have picked Harry’s name out I would have been over the damn moon. Now, it feels awkward and weird to be buying for the good-looking supervisor who used to be my friend. “Do you?”

“I have a few ideas for mine.” He grins.

Lucky for some.

“Well, that’s good,” I answer noncommittally.

I start to move away from him, but I’m stopped by a hand around my elbow.

“Hey,” he coaxes, and I meet his frowny gaze. “You good?”

If this were my friend of a year ago, I’d tell him it’s Friday, I’m bored and want to go to the pub to start my weekend early. But because he’s my supervisor now and I don’t know where to draw the line, I decide to keep the line very low and say, “All fine. Just tired.”

His frown doesn’t ease when I make a poor attempt at a smile. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, yeah?”

Nope. “Yeah, of course.”

“Alright,” he releases my arm. “Well, if you’re really stuck on what to get your secret Santa person, you could look in the magazine I’ve left on your desk.”

I raise a brow at him and he grins again, all white teeth and dimples.

Ugh.

“Is it inappropriate?” I ask, feeling nervous.

He feigns offence. “Of course not, that would be very wrong.”

I narrow my gaze but start to move back to my desk again. “Yes, it would. But I appreciate the help.”

“Any time!”

In my cubicle I find a company magazine on my desk, tabbed two-thirds of the way back. The page opens to a website specifically for Secret Santa gifts. With a sigh, I follow the link and start mindlessly scrolling through the options. There’s everything from oversized mugs to slippers and swear socks, whiskey cubes to coffee table books, candles and incense to bath sets and body creams. I am not short on options.

None of this really feels appropriate for Harry.

Still, since I’m bored out of my mind and have nothing better to do, I waste a good thirty minutes more scrolling mindlessly. Even though I’m struggling to find something for Harry, I do manage to find a present for Izzy—bed socks with cats all over them—and for my mother—a Lazy Susan.

I’m about to give up my search for something fun for Harry and think I’ll just stop by the crafty beer place down the road from my flat—he said he liked a certain one once—when I spot it: The Holy Grail of Secret Santa gifts.

I don’t even hesitate, adding it to my online basket before I can talk myself out of it. It’s only a couple of quid, so I can get him something else as well.

I spend the rest of the day feeling oddly smug, and when five o’clock rolls around I snatch my things up and head straight for the shop that sells the craft ale Harry likes. Then I walk to the pub to meet Izzy.

~

Our office Christmas meal is held in a tapas restaurant around the corner from the building we work in a couple of weeks later. I’ve never particularly cared where we eat—I’ll always find something—but I do struggle to marry up Spanish cuisine with the festive period. Apparently the general consensus was that no one really wanted a traditional Christmas dinner because they’d be getting that on the 25th December. I’ve always just thought of it as a roast dinner on acid but what do I know?

Our dress code for this year is ugly Christmas jumpers, so our table is crowded with colleagues wearing everything from traditional 70s muted-tone cable knits to Charles at the head of the table in a bright red jumper with a light-up Christmas tree on it. I do have a little giggle every time I look at him. It’s awful.

I’m somewhere in the middle of the long banquet-style table, sandwiched between Izzy and Craig, the new guy in marketing. He only started on Monday, has spent the entire week looking like a startled otter, and is already dangerously close to crossing the line from tipsy to drunk. He doesn’t look old enough to be tipsy but I keep that to myself. I’ve been subtly adding more food to his plate anytime it looks close to empty and I don’t know if he genuinely hasn’t noticed or is too polite to say anything because he just keeps on hoovering it up. Also, the dangerous thing about tapas is you always think you’ve eaten more than you actually have, and end up hungry again when you get home. Or, I do, anyway.

“Are we all about finished?” Charles’s voice booms from the end of the table.

There’s ten of us here in all, so his volume also attracts the attention of every other patron in the restaurant.

As if we’re not raucous enough already.

A chorus of mumbled yeses echoes around the table.

Charles claps his hands together. “Excellent! Harry, bring the bag.”

Pink-cheeked, Harry manoeuvres his way out of his seat directly opposite me—I’ve been avoiding looking at him for most of the night in favour of Izzy—and locates the bag with everyone’s Secret Santa gifts inside.

When we got here, Charles was waiting by the door with a large gift bag—you know the ones children get on Christmas morning? This one’s got Peppa Pig on it, which was comical in itself—that we were promptly instructed to leave our gifts inside as subtly as possible. 

Harry places Peppa Pig on Charles’s chair and waits like a faithful servant for his next instructions.

The next five minutes are spent watching Harry flit up and down either side of our long table as he drops presents into laps, a true Christmas elf. 

“Nicely wrapped,” he comments as he places mine in front of me.

I pull a face while Izzy chuckles beside me, and inspect it for a moment. It’s two presents taped together—one tiny and solid, no bigger than a credit card. Hey, wouldn’t that be a nice gift. The other is bigger and heavier—a cubic box. I desperately want to shake it but it feels like it could be breakable.

Izzy just has one—short and cylindrical and, again, heavy. But it’s slightly smaller than mine. I don’t know why that makes me smug. Bigger doesn’t always mean better. In most circumstances anyway. I’m not sure anyone has ever said that about a penis.

“Alright everyone,” Charles barks when the last gift is given out, “start unwrapping.”

A little shiver runs down my spine.

Here’s the thing about me—I love getting presents. Whoever decides to marry me one day needs to be a giver, because I get a little thrill any time I open up a gift. I think I’m equally as generous, but this is exciting for me.

What’s not exciting is that attention keeps flicking around the table. I don’t like being the centre of attention. A hard line to balance. Basically, I’m sitting here slowly picking apart my gifts while trying to keep the joyous little smile my lips are itching to make off my face.

I open the big present first, which seems to be the opposite of what everyone else does. I’m also trying to be subtle about watching Harry open his gifts.

God, this is torture.

The big present evokes a barking laugh out of me.

It’s well-known in the office that I’m a lover of Tesco, in any form. Primarily a Big Tesco or a Tesco Meal Deal. The big gift is a mug that just says ‘Tesco Value Secret Santa Mug’ in the supermarket’s old branding.

“Nice,” I mumble. I’m grinning like an idiot. I genuinely love that mug.

“Someone knows you well,” Izzy says with a nudge. 

She’s already opened her gift—a candle that apparently smells like mashed potato.

It’s disgusting.

“Someone doesn’t know you at all,” I say, nodding at the glass jar with a cork lid in front of her.

“Or they know me well enough to know I hate these candles and find it funny,” she retorts.

I snicker and pick open the wrapping on my smaller gift. I tug it out from the opened end, and with every new inch revealed, my mouth opens a little further.

I look up at Harry, whose expression is the mirror image of mine.

“You are joking,” Izzy says, and follows it up with a loud cackle.

~

Approximately 1 Year Earlier…

“Are you sure you don’t have me for Secret Santa?” Harry asks, pouting at me around the edge of our cubicles.

“Yes, Harry, I’m sure.”

I picked Izzy this year, who is the best person I could’ve possibly got as my favourite work colleague. Harry is a very close second, but I’d never tell him that.

“But you know who does have me,” he says matter of factly.

I do. In an office of ten people, I have managed to work out exactly who has who, only because Izzy told me who she has, and Harry has already told me he picked out the woman in Human Resources. I’ve deduced from there everyone else’s picks, including that I must be Charles’s. I suppress a shudder at the thought of what he might give me.

“Why does that matter?”

“Because I know what I want from them and I need you to subtly suggest it to them.”

“Oh, Jesus,” I mutter. “What is it?”

Harry rolls his chair around the cubicle partition, phone in hand. “Funny you should bring up Jesus, actually.”

He puts his phone on the desk in front of me, and at the same time he rests his chin on my shoulder.

He.

Rests.

His.

Chin.

On.

My.

Shoulder.

I try not to outwardly react to it, even though it’s setting off every single butterfly living in my stomach. I haven’t had sex in far too long if the simplest thing has me heating up this way

Christ.

Anyway, I finally look at Harry’s phone, and it makes me laugh.

Hysterically.

Honestly, I can’t stop.

I’m crying by the time I recover.

“Grow Your Own Jesus?” I sputter out, still tittering.

“Yeah!” He sits back and grins.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I kinda feel I’m lacking a little faith in my life.” He shrugs, but that toothy grin is still all there, along with his dimples and shiny green eyes.

How this man is single, I don’t know.

“Shut up, Harry.”

“Just drop a hint for us, yeah?” He starts rolling away, but not before he drops me a little wink.

A wink.

I’m in so much trouble.

~

I stare at the ‘Grow Your Own Jesus’ in my hands, then at the matching one in Harry’s.

“You remembered?” Harry asks, clearly fighting a smile himself.

“So did you,” I accuse.

“Well, I just kind of hoped if you didn’t want yours that I could have it.”

I gasp and hold the small cardboard box to my chest. “No. He’s mine.”

“Wait,” Craig pipes in from beside me, “did you two get the same thing?”

“They got each other the same thing,” Izzy corrects. “The same weird thing.”

“It’s an inside joke—you wouldn’t get it.” Harry pretends to flip his now non-existent hair.

Izzy sticks her tongue out at him.

“I’m going to grow him in my Tesco mug,” I decide.

Harry quips, “At work, I hope.”

“Obviously. Pride of place on my desk.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” he says proudly.

“And what about yours?”

“Oh,” Harry pats the box on the table, “he’s coming to bed with me.”

A laugh bubbles out of me.

“Ew.” Izzy’s nose wrinkles.

~

After dinner is settled, we head out of the restaurant and to a pub near Soho Square. A couple of people drop off and head home, but Craig is still soldiering on, bless him. He’s more stable when in motion than when stationary, and as soon as we find a group of tables together, we shove him in the corner.

Charles offers to buy a final round before he heads home for the night, and when Craig asks for another beer, I make sure Charles comes back with a non-alcoholic one.

“Why are you so protective over the new kid?” Harry asks as he sandwiches himself between me and another colleague.

“I’m not,” I retort. “I just don’t trust anyone else to look after him if he’s too plastered to get home by himself.”

“That still seems quite protective,” he argues.

“Well, put yourself in his shoes for a second. It’s your first real job, you’re young, you have one too many drinks on a night out with your new colleagues and you’re left to your own devices when everyone decides to call it a night. Maybe you take a walk along the river to sober up, and the next thing you know, you’re toppling over the wall and drowning in the Thames.”

We’re silent for a moment. Harry is just…staring at me, probably wondering where that came from. To be honest, so am I.

“That escalated quickly,” he says after a bit.

“But am I right?”

“I doubt it.”

“Ugh, go away.”

“I don’t want to go away.”

“Well, don’t ask stupid questions. We should be looking after him as the newbie. He won’t come back if we treat him like shit. You, as the supervisor, should recognise that.”

Harry lifts his hands in defence. “Alright. Point taken.”

“Are Mum and Dad fighting?” Craig asks loudly, sitting on the other side of Izzy now.

Izzy pats his arm. “I’ve heard Mum and Dad fight, Craigy-boy, and it doesn’t sound like this.”

“We’re not fighting,” I assure him, although I’m not sure how I feel about being referred to as Mum next to Harry’s Dad. “We’re having a discussion.”

“Sounds like you’re fighting,” Craig mutters and sinks further into the corner of the bench we’re crowded on.

 I take a sip of my drink just to keep my hands and mouth busy. Harry nudges me with his elbow, and when I meet his gaze he winks at me.

Winks.

At.

Me.

I’m not sure if the dreams that wink is sure to feature in will be welcomed, or if they’ll be nightmares.

Charles eventually calls it a night, with a shiver-inducing parting comment that he “needs to give his wife the good lovin’.” The rest of us thankfully don’t dissolve into chaos—I’m not drunk enough to be patient over making sure multiple people make it home alive and safe.

It’s only just gone midnight by the time I decide to call it quits. It seems no one else has been keeping an eye on Craig’s drinking habits, because the poor kid can barely stand or keep his eyes open.

“Alright, Craig, where’s home?” I ask as Izzy and I bundle his lanky frame into a particularly nice wool coat.

He mutters something inaudible and I let out an impatient sigh. “Say again?”

He repeats himself, and I think he says Lewisham. “Lewisham?” I clarify.

Craig nods.

“Couldn’t be a little closer, aye?” I grumble.

“You’re not taking him home, are you?” Harry asks, a little tug between his brow.

“I’m not leaving him by himself, H,” I remind him. “I wanted him to sober up and no one else listened, so yes, I’m going to make sure he gets home safe.”

“How? The tube is closed and the bus will take hours.”

“Well, I’ll just have to get an extortionate taxi and deal with it on Monday, won’t I?”

“Don’t you live in Tulse Hill?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“Lewisham is farther out of the way than Tulse Hill.”

“Not really,” I argue.

“I’m coming with you.”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t be daft.”

“I’m not being daft,” he insists. “By the time you manage to find a taxi willing to take you that far and actually get there, it’ll be close to two o’clock. And then you’ve got to get home from there. That’s pushing three in the morning. And while I admire your determination and independence and your incessant need to help the new kid, I am not willing to let you travel around London alone on a Friday night, whether you like it or not.”

We’re all quiet for a second—I actually think Craig is asleep on my shoulder now—and then Izzy very quietly whispers, “Damn.”

Sensing defeat, I release a pent up breath. “Fine.”

“Fine,” Harry concedes, “I’ll search for a taxi, shall I?”

“If you want,” I mutter.

We start walking, if only to find somewhere for Craig to sit down while he snoozes, and then say goodbye to Izzy, who’s boyfriend is waiting nearby to pick her up.

It’s cold and a little windy tonight. My cheeks feel frostbitten and my nose is painfully numb. I pull my woolly hat down lower to cover my ears and my scarf up higher to my nose, so all that’s visible is my eyes.

I catch Harry’s gaze, and he offers me a tentative smile. I smile back but I’m not sure if he can tell.

A taxi pulls up some minutes later, and we wake Craig up only so he can tell the driver his address. He falls straight back to sleep again, head pressed against the window.

I’m sandwiched in the middle back seat between the two men. Harry is somewhat bulkier than Craig. I can feel his thigh against mine. It’s warm, which is nice. I feel like I need the body heat.

The drive is relatively quiet, except Harry makes light conversation with the driver while I am also trying not to pass out on someone’s shoulder.

When we finally arrive at Craig’s house, the streets are eerily quiet. Harry makes me stay in the car while he wrangles Craig into his home. I move over into Craig’s vacated seat and watch out the window, a little entertained by the sight.

“Am I dropping you off somewhere else, love?” The taxi driver asks, breaking the quiet.

“Yes, it’s in Tulse Hill, is that okay?”

“No problem at all.”

“Do you know approximately how much it’ll be? And do you take card?”

“By the end of the journey, when I’ve dropped your friend off in Battersea, it’ll probably be over a hundred. But your mate has settled it already.”

“Wait, you’re taking Harry to Battersea?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I don’t know what to say to that. I thought Harry lived in Brixton. Battersea is an even longer journey.

I rub my tired eyes.

Harry slides back into the backseat and eyes the empty middle seat now I’ve moved over, but he doesn’t say anything.

“When did you move to Battersea?” I ask quietly once the car is moving again.

Harry clears his throat, “Few months ago.”

“Do you like it?”

“It’s okay.”

“Just okay?”

He turns a look on me that I can’t decipher, so I decide to let it go. He obviously doesn’t want to talk about it.

We’re quiet again, and I decide this time around I hate the silence in the car. I hate that Harry and I don’t talk about our lives with each other anymore now that he’s in a more senior role. I hate that he doesn’t really feel like my friend anymore. And I especially hate that this is mostly my fault because I don’t know where the boundary line is.

I lean forward and ask the driver, “How long will it take to get from my house to Harry’s?”

I can feel Harry’s eyes on me but I ignore him.

“Another half an hour, probably?”

I can’t help it, I grind my teeth together as I slump back into my seat. I’ve been avoiding looking at the time, but I look now, and it’s nearly half-past two. 

My bones feel tired.

“It’s fine, you know,�� Harry’s voice is like whiskey when he speaks, all low and honeyed.

“It’s not fine. You could be home and in bed by now.”

“So could you if you didn’t have the need to mother everyone.”

I don’t know what possesses me to do it—whether it’s the weariness or the level of alcohol in me—but I don’t retort with words.

I just stick my tongue out at him.

Harry laughs and shakes his head at me, turning that smile on his lap.

It’s that smile that forces me to say it, because no matter how much we bicker, I can never really be mad at him. “Why don’t you just stay at mine and go home in the morning when the tube is open again?”

His gaze snaps to me again. “Seriously?”

I don’t know where my confidence has come from. “Do you think I’d offer if I didn’t mean it?”

“But…your flat is tiny. Last I remember, you don’t even have a sofa.”

“I don’t,” I admit. “But I have a king bed. I can erect a pillow wall.”

He gives me a funny look. “I am not sober enough to listen to you use the word erect right now.”

I snort. “Seriously though. It’s so late and I’m tired and I don’t like this already, and for the sake of all our bank balances, just…just stay.”

He stares at me for a while. “I don’t have anything to wear to bed.”

I look at him, in his silly jumper and slacks and woolly hat. “I’ve got a big t-shirt I wear on my lazy days. You can borrow that.”

“How big?”

“Like, triple-XL.”

He purses his lips. “Maybe.”

“Come on, Harry. I’ll put it in the dryer real fast to warm it up, and I’ll even make you breakfast in the morning.”

His mouth twitches again, nostrils flaring as he wards off another smile. “Why are you pushing this so hard?”

“Because you didn’t have to come out all this way with me and you did it anyway.”

“Of course I did, I’m not leaving you alone with a drunk kid and a taxi driver.” He glances at the driver. “No offence, mate.”

“None taken,” he replies.

“Is there still a charge if we cut the journey short?” I ask him.

“No, you’re on a meter. If it helps make your decision any easier, I’m going home straight after this job.”

“See!” I gesture at the poor bloke in the front who we’ve subjected to this torture. “Let the man go home to his family, Harry.”

I can see the driver’s shoulders shaking, but he never says a peep.

“Alright, alright. Fine. I’ll stay at yours.”

“Good.”

Great.

Excellent.

Harry is staying the night at my place. 

In my bed.

I hope I didn’t leave the flat in a mess.

~

By the time we’re dropped off at my flat, I’m a practical zombie.

I let us inside, feet like lead, and Harry follows with just as much enthusiasm. Locking the door behind us, I dig through my drawers for the t-shirt I promised and toss it in the dryer for a few minutes. I clean my teeth, and then give Harry the t-shirt. While he changes in the bathroom, I quickly change into a matching festive jersey pyjama set. Feeling sexy is the last thing I’m trying to achieve. If anything, I just want to be warm—the flat is freezing.

Once changed, I set about making that pillow wall I promised.

When Harry emerges, I’m midway through taking my makeup off.

Looking at him, I can’t help but giggle.

“When you said you had a triple-XL t-shirt, I thought you just meant a plain one. Or, like, one with some generic wording on it. Not this,” he points at his chest.

I admire him in my pink t-shirt, which depicts Salem from Sabrina the Teenage Witch surrounded by cake and the words ‘I eat when I’m upset’. “I think pink suits you.”

Harry’s eyes narrow at me, and he moves around the bed to the side I’m not perched on. He studies my pillow wall for a while. “Do you think I’ve got the lurgy or something?”

“The lurgy?” I chortle. “No, I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“I don’t think it’s me we need to worry about being uncomfortable here.”

“I’ll be fine,” I insist with a grin as I finish the last of my makeup removal, “as long as you stay on your side of the wall.”

“I would also be fine. I don’t think we need the wall at all.”

“And why is that?” I ask, tossing my used wipes in the small bin next to my bed. I slip under the covers, and Harry, with his hairy, toned legs, does the same. It’s still weird seeing him with a buzz cut.

“Because it’s half an inch tall. You couldn’t stop an ant from getting over it.”

I gasp, and reach over to smack his arm. “How dare you. Ants can vertically climb.”

“Are you sure?” Harry retaliates by smacking me too, except he completely misses and ends up whacking my boob instead.

“Ow.”

He’s already pulled his hand away and is covering his mouth, eyes wide with shock. “I’m so sorry.”

“You should be!” I hiss, rubbing the assaulted breast in question.

“I didn’t mean to. I was aiming for your arm.”

“Well, your aim is terrible.”

He rolls onto his side, giving me his best puppy dog eyes. “I really am sorry.”

“Sure you are.”

“I am! But this does prove my point that the wall is useless,” he reasons.

“Fine.” I snatch the cushion at the top of the pile and toss it at the foot of the bed. “Collapse the wall if you must.”

He grins, all pretty and green-eyed, and tugs the next pillow down the row up underneath his head. “Much better.”

Sighing, I say, “Go to sleep, Harry.”

“Yes, boss.”

I shut my eyes, burrowing into the pillows, and wait for sleep to claim me.

And I wait. 

And I wait.

Unfortunately, I am far too aware of Harry’s presence beside me.

I’m thinking about the fact that he’s currently wearing my favourite t-shirt and the shameful part of me probably won’t wash it for ages. Maybe an even worse part of me will put it on as soon as he leaves my flat tomorrow.

Fuck this crush.

Why did I think it would be a good idea to let him stay here? In my bed? In my t-shirt?

I really hate myself sometimes.

“I can hear your brain whirring,” Harry says into the silent space between us.

“It worked overtime today, the fans are cooling down.”

He snickers, and then it’s quiet again. “Can I tell you a secret?” He asks after another minute.

I open my eyes to find him watching me. It’s a little unnerving but I can’t say I hate the attention. “A secret?”

“Yeah. I haven’t told anyone yet.”

I study his face in the dark room. “Okay.”

He wets his lips with his tongue first. “I gave my notice today.”

“What? You’re leaving?”

“Yeah.”

“When?”

“End of January.”

I can’t be sure, but I think I might be about to enter crisis mode. Harry is leaving. Harry, who I’ve seen almost every day for three years, is leaving.

I let him tell me about this new job—how it’s the same position but more money in a bigger company with better benefits.

For a second I don’t know what to say, but I eventually manage to come up with, “Well, congratulations, H. Sounds amazing.”

“Thank you.” He smiles. “Are you going to miss me?”

I pretend to think about it. “No, probably not.”

He gasps. “How rude.”

I giggle. “Of course I’m going to miss you.” Probably too fucking much. Like, crying into my cornflakes every morning for the foreseeable future. That much.

“Good. I’m gonna miss you, too.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I have missed you.”

I frown. “What do you mean? We see each other everyday.”

“It’s not the same, though.”

I know what he means, but I’m too much of a wimp to admit it. Or maybe I just want to hear it come out of his mouth, because it’s been swirling around my head for months and months. “How?”

“We used to go out together, you know, me and you and Izzy and her bloke. We had a good friendship going, right? And I think I kind of fucked that up by taking that supervisor role this year.”

“Yeah, but your career is your career, Harry. You did what was right for you.”

“Maybe, but I still hated knowing I’d drawn a line somewhere.”

Funny. I thought I was the one who’d drawn the line. “Well, we’re not going to see you at all now.”

He frowns. “Don’t say that. We can still have Friday night pub time.”

“I’m not sure, H,” my tone is teasing, “you’re joining the big boys now. You’re more important than we are, you’ll forget about us in a month.”

“Don’t,” he whines, throwing me that puppy look again. “I won’t.”

“Sure.”

“I’d never forget you.”

“I’m sure you say that to all your old work friends. Soon it’ll be new ones with new pubs to visit on a Friday night, and we’ll just be a minor blip in your career path.”

“Stop iiiiit,” Harry growls, and the next thing I know, he’s reaching across the divide we made and wrapping himself around my waist, his face in my neck.

I don’t know how to immediately react, stunted into stiff silence.

“You are not a blip,” he insists, squeezing me closer to him.

“You say that now,” I mutter.

“You’re not,” he snaps, then a second later asks, “Why aren’t you hugging me back?”

Tentatively, I loop my arms around his shoulders. I don’t know where to put my hands initially, but one ends up on the back of his neck and the other between his shoulder blades.

“Better,” he says, face still shoved into my neck.

We’re back to silence again for a moment, but my mind is racing. This is not how I expected to end my night at all. Not with a man in my bed and definitely not hugging said man. Who I’ve happened to fancy for far too long.

I can’t help but wonder if it’s a good thing that Harry is leaving. Maybe now I can take time to get over the stupid crush I have on him and start behaving like a normal woman in her late twenties, rather than the perpetually single saddo that I’ve become.

Yes. I’m determined to turn it into a positive.

There will be no crying into my cornflakes.

“This is nice,” Harry whispers.

“Yeah,” is all I can come up with.

“You’re very comfortable.”

Seriously? I want to roll my eyes. “Thank you.”

“I don’t want to move.”

Don’t panic. Don’t panic. DON’T. PANIC. “You don’t have to.”

“Yeah?”

I swear there’s something blaring in my head. “Sure.”

With that ringing endorsement, he snuggles closer and pulls me flush against his front.

This is fine. Absolutely fine. Nothing to worry about here. No siree.

Except, then, his hand finds the back of my thigh, and he pulls it over his. With a pat for good measure, he lets out a satisfied sigh.

“This might be the most comfortable I’ve ever been.”

Great. “That’s nice,” I squeak.

And it is nice, in a way.

It’s nice to be held in the embrace of another warm body.

It’s nice not to spend the night alone.

It’s nice to feel someone else’s breath on my neck that isn’t just my own reverberating back into my face from my pillow.

The tantric tickle of Harry’s fingers on the back of my legs is nice, too.

Really nice.

It’s so nice, in fact, that I…

I fall asleep.

~

I wake up plastered to Harry’s chest. Harry’s chest, that is still covered in my favourite t-shirt. God, that’s pleasing.

It’ll smell like him now.

#winning

I think I’m the first one to rise, which means I have the opportunity to sneak off and start breakfast, but then I feel a warm palm against the skin of my lower back, circling, and I realise I’m not the first over the finish line into consciousness. I also feel a slight chill against my sternum and I think one of the buttons on my pyjama shirt might have popped open, which means there’s definitely the potential for a peep at some boobage.

“Morning sleeping beauty,” Harry’s voice sounds like gravel.

“Hi,” I choke out.

“Sleep well?”

I slept amazingly. Dare I say it’s the best sleep I’ve had in weeks. Maybe even months.

Fuck it, it’s the best sleep I’ve ever had.

But all I actually say is, “Yep. Did you?”

He hums, his hold on me tightening. “Like a baby.”

I like that far too much. “That’s good. How…did we get like this?”

“You on top of me?” He asks and gives me another squeeze. “No idea.”

“I am not on top of you.”

“You kind of are. But I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“You’re comfortable?”

“I couldn’t move even if I wanted to. It’s like when you have a cat on top of you—you don’t move the cat.”

I look up at him for the first time, then. He’s still sleepy-eyed, but he’s more awake than I am and he looks so soft, and so happy. “Do you need me to move, Harry?”

“Absolutely not.” He follows this comment up with a lazy grin that has my insides turning to mush. He’s always been a little bit infectious, like a good drug, and so I can’t help but smile back at him.

He lifts a hand to my face then, still holding my gaze, with his finger under my chin while he gingerly wipes his thumb in the corner of each of my eyes in turn. When I throw him a questioning look, he responds with a simple, “Eye goo.”

I want to be disgusted by that, but I’m not. Not in the slightest. If anything, it’s making this crush I was so determined to get rid of yesterday even worse. And, because I can’t help myself, I gingerly reach my hand up to his face and do the same thing, wiping the dried moisture from the corners of his eyes.

We stay like that, staring at each other with lingering touches on each other’s faces. I don’t know what we’re doing. I’m terrified and nervous and excited all at once.

My heart is telling me he’s into this the same way I am, but my head is telling me I’m overthinking it and it doesn’t mean anything.

Now, call me fucking crazy, but people who aren’t into each other don’t touch one another the way we are.

I tell my head to shut the fuck up.

Tipping my head back slightly, it causes Harry’s light grip to adjust, until his hand all but swallows my cheek.

He lowers his head, and I know, I just know I’m not imagining the pull between us anymore. My breathing becomes laboured, chest heaving with every inch his mouth gets closer to mine.

When our mouths meet I’m dizzy, but I hold onto the shred of sanity I have left, if only to enjoy the moment while it’s here.

It’s exploratory at first—a simple taste of one another. Harry’s mouth is soft and gentle. He takes his time, like he’s learning me. His hands are doing the same thing, cautiously roaming my face, my arms and my back.

I don’t know what to do with my hands, because I want to touch him everywhere. Start with his chest, and for the first time ever I wish for the absence of my damn t-shirt on him. Move to his arms just to trace the definition of his muscles and the lines of his strong veins.

He’s so…delicious. Always has been, hair or no. And the permission to touch him in any capacity has me feeling drunk. I feel more out of sorts now than I did last night.

Harry’s grip moves to the back of my legs, and he drags me over his body so that I’m straddling him.

The new position has trepidation rendering my limbs frozen, and I have to force myself to move, to keep touching him. I can feel his length between my legs—not completely hard but certainly working its way there.

“Is this okay?” Harry asks against my lips, voice hushed but still loud in the quiet room. His hands dance over my hips and thighs, like he wants to touch other places but is worried of crossing that line.

“Yes,” I breathe in answer. 

He resumes his ministrations, becoming braver now with the use of his mouth, and in turn I do too.

My hands finally slip underneath the cotton t-shirt to feel the taut skin of his abdomen, fingertips following every dip and curve. In return, Harry slides his up my shirt, taking the weight of my breasts in his hands.

“They’re so soft,” he comments, and for some reason I like that so much that I kiss him deeper.

Our tongues are involved now, licking and nipping and tasting the other where we can.

“I want to take your shirt off,” I admit.

“You mean your shirt?” He teases, and moves into a sitting position with absolutely no effort.

“Both,” I tell him.

He grins, kissing me again while I ease the cotton up his body, until we have to break apart so I can remove it completely. 

Harry’s body is…perfect. I knew it would be—toned lines, masculine, pronounced muscles. I want to lick it.

I’m kissing him again, if only to stop myself from lapping at his golden skin.

I’m kissing the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen—ever known.

I can feel him toying with the buttons on my pyjama top, slowly coaxing each one free. When the last one is done, he slips the garment over my shoulders until we’re in matching states of undress. His large hands cup my boobs, thumbs rubbing against my nipples.

A sharp bolt of pleasure zips through me, straight to the pulsing core between my legs. With an involuntary rock of my hips, I moan into his mouth.

“Oh, shit,” he groans, “did you like that?”

I can only nod, and then whine when he does it again. Helpless to the taste of him, I loop my arms around his neck. Our bodies are flush together, tongues tangled, and my centre is lined up right over his cock. His cock that is now fully hard.

I start rocking my hips in a rhythm if only to find some friction for the need growing in my lower belly.

Harry’s grip moves from my tits to my arse, squeezing tightly and encouraging my movements. “If you keep doing that I’m going to embarrass myself and make a mess in my boxers, but I don’t want you to stop.”

“Please don’t make me stop,” I beg.

“You better not stop.”

So I don’t. I keep rocking, keep kissing, keep touching.

Every roll of my hips is ecstasy and I can feel the bubble growing inside me, pushing to the surface. The heat in my body expands, not just inside me but across my back and my arms and my chest. I haven’t had any physical contact for a while, and the intimacy of this, with Harry, is setting off every single one of my nerve endings.

“I want to see you come,” he tells me.

I grip the back of Harry’s neck, and for the first time since we started kissing, he moves his mouth. He kisses my cheek, then my neck, my throat, my chest, and then he finally pulls my nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking while squeezing my breast, and, well…

I go off.

My orgasm crests in the least subtle manner—loud and hard. My core is pulsing and my legs are shaking. My body is on fire—in fact, I’m sure I can feel a bead of sweat dripping between my cleavage.

Harry’s mouth is on mine again, warm and wet and sultry, and I cling to him like I’ve got nothing else in the world.

“You’re so pretty,” Harry whispers against my lips.

My face flushes, as if I’m not already burning up, but I still manage to say, “So are you.”

He kisses me hard but chaste. “I’ve wanted to see you like that for a while.”

“Like what?” I ask, still panting.

“Undone. By me, specifically.”

I swallow the sudden lump in my throat. “What?”

He laughs, and his thumb strokes my cheek, “I’ve always thought you’re sexy as fuck.”

“No you haven’t.”

“I bloody have,” he insists. “I thought you knew that.”

I scoff. “No, I didn’t know that.”

“Well, I’ll keep telling you until you believe me. Now, I’m pretty sure I was promised breakfast?”

I give him a questioning look. “But what about…you?” I ask, and throw a pointed look at the space where our crotches meet.

“I don't believe in transactional pleasure,” he tells me, then kisses me again. “I just hope we can do this again.”

“What, sleepover?”

He laughs. “Sure, if that’s what you want to call it. But I was also hoping there might be some dating involved.”

I gawk at him. “You want to date me?”

“Indefinitely.”

Well, shit.

[inkdrinkerworld]

Tactics

Pairing: hockey!sirius x reader (established relationship) (wc: 1.4k)

Cw: reader is slightly bratty, SMUT, MDNI 18+ ONLY, brat!reader, degradation (slight), p in v penetration (unprotected but he does pull out), hair pulling, fluffy ending. I think that’s it but lmk if I missed anything

You’re riding Sirius’ every last nerve as you stomp around the house with a pout in full effect. It’s not so much that you can’t be upset, it’s that you’re doing it for his attention and he’s not giving you the satisfaction.

He’s busy this weekend, which you’d known, but so what if you feel a bit needy and want him to pay you some mind.

God damn Sirius for turning you into this.

He’s going over strategies for the game in a few days, his hockey coach drilling all sorts of tactics into his head as enforcer and all that.

You sigh for the tenth time and Sirius bites the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from saying anything.

“Siri, can’t you take a break? We can pop into the Christmas market before it gets too busy.”

He rolls his eyes, you’d been to the Christmas market two hours before and gotten everything you’d wanted.

Sirius knows your tricks, which is how he accurately predicts that due to his lack of response you’d flip yourself on the settee next to him and drop your head into his lap.

“Sirius.”

He looks down at you, grey eyes nearly blue. “Poppet, we spoke about this. After tomorrow I’m all yours.”

He pats your cheek and goes back to his iPad reading through the opposing team’s strategy and trying to see potential lineups and who he can best agitate tomorrow night.

You huff again, “You never have time for me.”

You know you’re being petulant and whiny but it’s not your fault.

Sirius has been gone nearly two weeks and he’s off again tomorrow with a week off. It’s that week off that has your body thrumming with excitement and nerves and Sirius looks good.

He always has but all the training and the games have toned him ridiculously.

Hence your attitude not being your fault.

“That’s not true.” Sirius frowns at your words.

“It is true. You’ve hardly called,” not true- Remus was telling him he’s just as bad as James was while they were away, not that Sirius cared. “And when you’re home you’re always on your iPad.”

You’re starting to push his buttons; your words are exaggerations and you both know it.

“Poppet, just give me till tomorrow.” His words have a bit of bite to them and it sets your mood in cement.

“Oh yeah? And then tomorrow night after your big win and you’ve busted up your nose again, I’ll have to tend to you and then you’ll want to go see your friends and go to the pub, and-“ your rant is cut short by Sirius gabbing your jaw and applying just enough pressure that your cheeks swish and you gasp a little.

“You’re itching for a row and I’m not having one with you. Cut it out.” His grey eyes narrow, watching as yours widen like saucers. When he releases your face with a quick peck your resolve doubles.

“Or what? You barely even have time right now for a kiss.”

Sirius chuckles and sets his iPad to the side. His hands are strong and firm where they pull you to sit in his lap and face him.

“Is this the hill you want to die on, poppet?” Your shoulders rise just as Sirius shakes his head. “Think about what you’re gonna say, baby.”

You’ve thought about it and it’ll get you exactly what you want. Sirius can almost taste the words before they’re out of your mouth.

“Am I wrong? This is the most attention I’ve had from you since you came back from Coventry.”

It’s the snark in your tone that has your boyfriend’s hand sliding round your neck, a gentle hold but a hold nonetheless.

“Such a smart girl but you just can’t help trouble, can you?”

You shrug and that solidifies the type of night you’re about to have.

Sirius’ hand tightens around your neck, his lips pressed beside your ear. “You’re such a fucking brat,” his lips create a trail from your earlobe to your collarbone, bites and kisses interchanged and left over on your skin till he reaches your lips.

“Kiss me.” You grumble as he brushes his nose against yours but never meets your mouth.

“I shouldn’t even give you one. Don’t deserve a kiss.” He bites the hinge of your jaw just as you’re about to complain.

“Siri.” You get out, rocking your hips into his as his other hand dips beneath your shirt.

“No you don’t get to decide how tonight’s going poppet,” he kisses just between the valley of your breasts before taking off your shirt. “You could’ve if you’d waited. But you’re just so impatient, just so needy. Just so depraved.” Sirius licks a stripe up your chest on the last word.

Goosebumps immediately erupt on your chest and stomach.

His other hand releases your neck, sitting further back into his spot as you rock your hips faster.

“Please touch me.”

Sirius grins, wicked and impish. “Now you have manners, go figure.” He doesn’t move a hand to help you and in your frustration you bang a fist against his chest.

His grin is gone but you don’t see what takes its place because Sirius has you leaning over the back of the settee and your shorts around your ankles.

“Silly needy thing.” He mutters, the slap he delivers to your bare bottom echoing through your quiet apartment. “Can’t mind your tongue at all can you, poppet?”

He’s goading you now, wanting to see how far you’re willing to go.

“It’s not like you don’t like it.” Your words end in a sharp gasp, your hands clutching the back of the settee tightly.

“Can’t help yourself at all today,” you hear him shuffling behind you, his sweatpants falling around his ankles. You feel the head of his cock and lean forward a little more, a much more severe arch to your back.

“Please don’t tease.”

Sirius snickers, moving his tip between your folds before slipping in and then back out.

“This what you needed?” He asks, wrapping a hand in your hair and pulling so that your chin is tipped upwards.

“Yes yes!” Your words preface him slamming right into you, your nails gripping the sofa as Sirius sets a brutal pace.

“Fucking brat,” he grunts, the hand in your hair wound tight and the one of your waist slips to your thigh and pulls it up.

The angle shift sends him deeper into you and tears spring to your eyes.

“Sirius.” You croak, turning your chin a little to see him but the tears cloud your vision. “Oh god, right there.”

He smirks, leaning down and crowding your space but never pressing his lips to yours.

“Terrible at asking for what you want so you just have to poke and get a rise out of me hm?”

You nod, “You never fuck me like this if I ask.”

Sirius chuckles, nipping at your cheek. “Liar.” His words are punctuated with a sharp thrust and a choking gasp from you.

It doesn’t take long before Sirius has you keening and crying as he fucks you, his hand sneaking from your thigh to your clit and you shake against Sirius’ chest.

“There,” you whine, your hands on his wrist to get him to apply more pressure. “I’m close.”

Sirius does, your back bowing as you come around him. He isn’t far behind you but just as he’s about to reach his own orgasm he pulls out and thick white ropes of him cover your lower back, just above your ass.

You fall into Sirius as he catches his breath, chin resting on his slick chest. “Can I have a kiss now?”

He smiles, pushing back some of the wet strands of hair that have stuck to your face. “Course doll.”

He peppers them all over your cheeks before slotting your lips together, the kiss far more tender than he’d been just a couple seconds earlier.

“C’mon, let’s go get in the shower.” He whispers against your lips, using his discarded shirt to clean up your back.

“Then we can watch Christmas movies?”

Sirius sighs, kissing your forehead. A tinge of guilt piercing his heart. “I’ll be in the room with you but I really do have to finish going through the tactics, poppet.”

You shrug, far more amenable to the idea now. “S’long as we can cuddle.”

“I can do that, baby.”

[ladykailitha]

The Good Elf Part 1

Hello, it's December so that means Christmas!! For the next four weeks, I'm going to be posting two chapters a day until the Sunday before Christmas. And if it stays the eight chapters I'm planning it should be all out on time. (fingers crossed, it is going smoothly soo...)

Summary: Steve is a business man charged with planning his dad's company Christmas party. Christmas has never been a good day for him, so he's a bit of Scrooge as far as the holiday is concerned. So when he meets tree farmer Eddie Munson, the man decided to show Steve what Christmas means. And maybe with a little Christmas magic Steve will find more than just a love for the holiday, he'll find love for Christmas too.

~

On October 31st, I gathered my best elves and explained my problem.

Dear elves, it has come to my attention in the light of recent events Christmas cheer is down nearly a thousand percent. There aren’t that many of us, so Mrs. Claus and I have come to the conclusion that we should send out ambassadors to places that need it the most. You don’t have to turn the whole town, just one person. Because that one person will have a ripple effect that will spread to others.

These are the list of places we think you’ll do the most good:

I listed off all the towns and I turn to the last elf in the line.

“I have something special in mind for you.”

“Me?” the elf squeaked.

“Yes, I’m sending you to Hawkins, Indiana. I think you’ll do well there.”

“Am I being punished?”

I let out a jolly laugh.

“No little one, not everyone is fit for every job. This is to see what you can do and if this doesn’t work out. We’ll find something else.”

~

It wasn’t that Steve hated his job. No, of course not. He hated that his boss was his dad and everyone shunned him for it. Even though he had gone to school for it same as they had, but nope. Just because he was the boss’s son, it was nepotism. He hated the long hours. He hated the way they were only surface level do-gooders. Paying only lip service to causes like cancer research, the environment, and the queer community, all the while the bosses lined their pockets with bigger and bigger bonuses, while his coworkers and his, yes his, wages stagnated.

But most of all he hated the way the company did Christmas. All talk about food banks and giving to the poor, while throwing lavish parties and big giveaways to the employees.

So no, he didn’t hate his job. He just hated everything about it.

“Steven!” Mr. Harrington boomed, throwing open the door to his office. “I’m going to need you to throw the Christmas party this year. Dolores is out with COVID again and won’t be able to set everything up.”

Steve bit back a groan of annoyance. He sucked at planning.

But before he could launch a protest that sure she could do it from home or find someone else to do it, Mr. Harrington’s phone rang out loudly in the room.

Mr. Harrington held up a finger to shush him while he checked his message.

“Well, damn,” he grunted. “I’m going to have to find a new secratary. That was her husband. Her funeral is on Saturday at 10am. I’m sure you’ll do great.”

He wandered off muttering to himself, wondering if he could get a hot blond this time and whether or Steve’s mother would even notice.

Steve buried his face in his hands and let out a muffled scream. He pinched himself and even picked up a paper to see if he could read it. But alas, he was not dreaming. This wasn’t a nightmare.

He was in actual fucking hell.

~

“Steven!” Mr. Harrington bellowed, storming into his apartment two days later. “One of the IT guys, Milton, Morris or something–”

“Mitch?” Steve asked with a raised eyebrow.

Mr. Harrington snapped his fingers. “That’s the one! He managed to get into Delores’s computer and get a list of the vendors and things for the Christmas party. I had him email it to you.”

Steve wandered over to his phone and picked it up. Sure enough there was a very detailed list of everything from decorators and caterers, to budgets for each. It was very well organized.

“Yeah, everything looks good,” he murmured and set his phone back down. He pulled out a vest and suit coat and began putting them on.

“Just one small change,” Mr. Harrington said. “The board wants three of those ‘rent a tree’ deals instead of one big one.”

Steve frowned. “A what now?”

“It’s very eco-friendly,” Mr. Harrington said. “Basically you rent the tree and then give it back for them to be used again the next year, then after they reach a certain height the get planted in the forest.”

“Okay.” Steve wasn’t sure there was anything else he could say to that.

Mr. Harrington blinked at him. “Where are you going so dressed up on a Saturday? You got a meeting I didn’t see on your schedule?”

“I’m going to the funeral, Dad.”

“Whose funeral?” Mr. Harrington asked, his brow wrinkling in confusion, bordering on anger.

Steve paused in pursuit of his nicer dress shoes and turned to him slowly as if he was trying not spoke a predator into attacking.

“Dolores Gardener, your former secretary,” he said just as slow as he turned. Part of him wanted to hold his hands up in a show of submission, but he wasn’t sure how well he would react to that.

Then Mr. Harrington’s face cleared. “Oh, so you drew the short straw. You poor bastard. I already sent them flowers so don’t bother on that front. You mother is demanding your presence at dinner tomorrow. Seven o’clock, sharp. You know how she gets when you’re late.”

He left as loudly as he came, and Steve sat down hard on the bed. He buried his head in his hands. This was going to be a long winter.

~

Steve supposed that the best part about doing the Christmas party was that he was not only given a blank check for all this shit, but that he had been given the time off needed to get it all done.

He didn’t have to show up in the office for anything until the 24th, unless he needed a signature for anything.

He started his hunt for the trees first, mainly because the place the board wanted to use closed up two years ago and they had only picked the first name that came up on a Google search.

He found a rent-a-tree place in nearby Hawkins and decided to take a look.

Steve got into the back seat of his father’s company car and tapped on the roof, to let the drive know he was in and ready to go.

“This seems like quite a distance to get a Christmas tree,” Murray, the driver said, looking at Steve in the rear view mirror.

Steve let out a long sigh. “Yeah, but it’s what Dad wants...”

“And whatever Clint Harrington wants, he gets,” Murray agreed, resigned and pulled into traffic.

They passed in silence as Steve looked up Hawkins. He found out that the town were really big on Christmas each year. Complete with a Christmas village, Santa reigning supreme on a red velvet throne; an ice skating rink set up in the middle of town, though you could ice skate on either of the nearby lakes as well; ice sculpting contests; huge hills for sledding; sleigh rides. Like the whole town transformed into the North Pole from Nov. 1st to Dec. 31st. Two whole months of Christmas.

Steve thought that would have been his own personal hell.

He tossed his phone on the seat next to him and looked back up at Murray. “Oh, I meant to ask, did you get that dog you were looking at?”

Murray’s eyes lit up. “I did.” And began to tell Steve all about the mad cap adventures of Scamp, the corgi.

Finally they were pulling up to the tree farm. In bright festive letters were the words Munson’s Nursery and Tree Farm.

Steve stepped out of the car and looked around. There were so many trees of various types of fir and suddenly he was instantly overwhelmed. He started wandering around and soon he was lost. Not just his direction but what he was supposed to be looking for. He felt like Charles Brown. Like he was going to pick the wrong tree and Christmas was going to be ruin.

His eyes started welling up and he just wanted to go home. He turned around suddenly and bumped into someone who had been coming up behind him.

“Shit!” the man cried out as Steve yelled, “Sorry!”

Then the man’s arms came up to steady him. “Hey are you okay?”

“No,” Steve said with the shake of his head. “I’m supposed to get three trees for the company Christmas party and the person who usually does it, passed away recently and my dad picked me to her place but I’m so overwhelmed!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” the man murmured, rubbing Steve’s arms slowly. “Take a deep breath there, sweetheart. You’re hyperventilating.”

Steve took a deep breath and then another until he could see straight. And in the light falling snow the man in front of him cast an ethereal figure. He had long dark curls and dimpled grin and the biggest brown eyes Steve had even seen.

“There you are,” the man said gently. “I’m Eddie. My uncle runs the nursery, so lets find him and we can talk about what you need and for how long, okay?”

Steve took another deep breath and nodded. “Thank you. I’m Steve.”

“Come follow me, Stevie,” Eddie said cheerfully.

He turned a corner and spotted a volunteer. “Hey, Robbie, did you see which direction Uncle Wayne went?”

She peered around the area and then pointed. “Last I saw him he was in the Douglas firs with Mrs. Click.”

Eddie grimaced. “I wonder if she’ll trying grade him for his ‘knowledge’ of trees.” He shook his head and bid Steve to follow him.

They turned a couple of corners and there was a nice older man with thinning hair and a soft smile talking with what Steve assumed was pickled lemon come to life. Everything about her was pinched and yellow. And angry.

Very, very angry.

“Uncle Wayne!” Eddie said cheerfully. “I have a doosey for ya. This gentleman needs three trees for his work. I’ll take over for you if you want to help him out?”

Wayne smiled that same crinkle-eyed, dimple smile his nephew had and turned to Steve. “First time buy a live tree?”

“First time buying any tree,” Steve admitted dryly. “Not much of a Christmas person really.”

Eddie whipped around. “How can you not love Christmas?” he said, scandalized, holding his heart in his hands. “It’s only the most magical day of the year!”

“Young man, are you going to help me or not?” Mrs. Click hissed. “I’m looking for a Douglas fir and these aren’t Douglas firs!”

Wayne led Steve away as Eddie looked around himself in confusion. “Ma’am, these are Douglas firs. Maybe describe what you’re looking for and we see if we have it...”

Steve turned to Wayne. “Is he going to be okay with her? She reminds me of my mom and not in a good way.”

Wayne threw his head back and laughed. “He’ll be fine. He’ll play dumb until either they figure out what she wants or she goes elsewhere. Happens every year.”

Steve looked behind him, worriedly, but followed Wayne to a nice little hut in the center of the maze of trees. Wayne unlocked the door and sat him down.

“All right,” Wayne said sliding over an info-graphic that had roughly a dozen or so different trees. “We don’t have every tree on that list, but if you like one of the ones that isn’t I can try to find you something close enough.”

Steve pulled the nicely drawn poster closer to him. “Wow, I didn’t realize that there was so many.”

“That’s fair,” Wayne grabbed the poster and slid it off to the side. “So lets narrow it down. What’s the tree going to be for? Inside or outside?”

“Inside,” Steve said quickly. “The ceilings are fifteen feet.”

Wayne nodded in approval. “That’s good that you know that. Most people don’t and try buying a fifteen footer when they only have ten foot ceilings. Is it going to be lit? Decorated?”

Steve nodded. Another answer he knew right away.

“Will there be presents under it?” Wayne asked warmly.

“No,” he said with a small, fragile smile. “It’s for an office.”

Wayne pulled out a piece of paper and started jotting down Steve’s answers. “Right, any other requirements?”

Steve chewed on the skin around his nails. “Do you have the rent-a-tree program? My fa–I mean my boss was hoping to go green this year.”

Wayne’s eyes narrowed at the slip up but said nothing. Instead he pulled out a list from the top drawer of the desk. “These are the trees that are available to be rented out. Most of them are Douglas firs, like the ones where you found me. Though we do have a lovely trio of Fraser firs that are about six feet tall.”

Steve pulled the poster over to him again and then nodded. “I’ll take all three.”

Wayne blinked at him for a moment. “This will be an office, I’m assuming. Do you have house keeping that can water the trees?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve said. “We have other live plants year round and I have already cleared it with the head of housekeeping before coming here.”

Wayne nodded appreciatively. “Sounds like you’ve got everything figured out. Why were you so nervous before?”

Steve ducked his head and blushed. “It’s my first year doing it and I’m not really into the whole holiday. I was worried I’d get it wrong, especially since I really don’t care, but the people I’m buying for do.”

Wayne nodded again and started pulling up the paper work for the trees. “If you can write the name of the company, the address, and the date they need to be delivered by, I’ll ring you up a bill of sale.”

“Great.”

He started filling out the information and was almost done when Eddie walked back in with a wide grin and a check in hand.

“That saucy minx tried to get me to tie the tree to her car before she paid,” he said easily. “Can you believe it?”

Wayne chuckled. “Yes. Does it every year. Would you move our rentable Frasers, our friend here will be taking all three.”

Eddie’s eyebrows wagged. “Friend indeed! I’ll be right on it.” He got this grin on his face as Steve pulled out the checkbook from his briefcase. “You said you were planning your work Christmas do, right?”

Steve handed the check to Wayne who then gave him a receipt in return, then he turned to Eddie. “Well, sure. I’ve got to buy all the decorations and lights and all that jazz. Why do you ask?”

Eddie licked his lips slowly. “You see, I’ve got friends who might be able to help you out with some of that stuff.”

Steve blinked at him for a moment. “What do you get out of it?”

“Let me show you the fun side of Christmas,” Eddie said with an even bigger grin. “You get everything you need, my friends get your company’s business, it’s win/win/win for everyone. What do you say?”

Steve snapped his briefcase shut and stuck out his hand. “I think you’ve got yourself a deal.”

Eddie could barely contain his glee. “Just wait until I tell Robin, she thought for sure you’d say no!”

Steve threw his head back and laughed.

~

Part 2

The italics are Santa, if that's not quite clear.

Tag List: TEN SLOTS REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[sodamnradd]

“Uh… Pans?” Harry pinches the air, missing his moving target. “Why’s there a branch floating above my head?”

“It’s mistletoe for the party.” She admires her charm work. “It wilts for some, blooms for others, and for the right kiss—” she kisses him, and the plant vanishes, “—it disappears, fulfilled.”

An hour later, Hermione enters the party with Roger Davies. Their mistletoe is black and crunchy, deader than dead. Only two other guests sport a dead mistletoe—Malfoy and his date, a witch Harry has never seen before. Malfoy swats the crispy plant like a pesky pixie, but it dodges him and snaps right back into place.

“Pans,” Harry corners her in the corridor, “should we scrap the mistletoes?”

She arches a bejewelled brow. “For giving Draco and Granger the wake-up call they so desperately deserve?”

He glances in Hermione’s direction with a bad feeling in his gut. “She hasn’t had the easiest go of things—”

“And Draco has?” Pansy rebuts. “Granger broke up with him.”

“Because he refused to admit he was dating her.”

“To save her from public scrutiny.”

Harry shakes his head vehemently. “He was ashamed.”

“He wasn’t.” Pansy’s eyes narrow. It’s an argument they have had countless times. “He’s pathetic without her.”

“He should’ve realised that before acting like a total di—”

“Look.” Pansy yanks him to the side, hiding behind one of the dozen Christmas trees erected around the house.

Hermione and Malfoy stand a few feet away. Pansy gives Harry a pointed look as the mistletoe above their friends blooms with the plumpest berries Harry has seen all night. He gulps, not liking it.

Hermione points to the mistletoe. “Did you do this?”

Malfoy’s gaze lifts and his brow furrows, noticing their rejuvenated stalker. “Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know. You’re angry I dumped you.”

Harry bites his lip to keep from laughing at Malfoy's outraged expression.

“If anything, this is the sort of manipulative spellwork you would conjure to drive a point,” Malfoy drawls, a razor-sharp edge in his voice. “If you wanted a kiss, Granger, all you had to do was ask.”

“I beg your pardon?” Her voice goes up an octave. “I have a date.”

“So do I.”

“Oh, please.” She rolls her eyes. “You hired an escort.”

Pansy snorts, and Harry claps a hand over her mouth.

Malfoy goes beet red. A vindictive snarl curls his lips. “And Davies has been staring at her tits the entire time.”

Hermione stiffens. She begins to walk around him, but Malfoy blocks her path. “Kiss me.”

“Sod off.” She tries to side-step him again, but he follows.

“Kiss me and the enchantment will go away,” he says, staring at her with some other emotion in his eyes. “Or are you worried Davies will start a fight?”

Hermione shakes her head, trying to skirt him, but Malfoy doesn’t let up. 

Pansy’s nails pierce Harry’s arm, warning him not to interfere.

“You’ve broken my nose once,” muses Malfoy as if it’s a fond memory. “At least this will be for a worthy cause.”

Some of the fight leaves Hermione’s body.

“Kiss me,” he inches forward, “and I’ll broadcast my feelings to the whole of the Wizarding World to make you believe me. I’ll put a ring on your finger and give you my name.”

She retreats a step, voice small. “You’re just saying that.”

“Kiss me,” urges Malfoy, closing in on her. The mistletoe follows diligently. “Find out for yourself.”

Fascinated and dubious of this version of Malfoy, Harry wonders whether Pansy has been right all along or if Malfoy is a master manipulator. Both are viable options. But if the mistletoe enchantment is as accurate as Pansy claims…

Harry watches, scandalised, as Hermione fists the front of Malfoy’s shirt and kisses him with shocking verve. The wall thumps as they land next to the tree. An ornament shatters on the floor, knocked by Malfoy’s elbow as he ensnares Hermione between his arms, sighing, “Fucking missed you.”

Smiling smugly, Pansy mouths, “Told you.” Flitting off to rejoin the festivities without being seen. Harry slips out after her, groaning when another meddlesome branch appears. This one targets Ron and a newly betrothed Daphne Greengrass. 

Across the room, Pansy sends Harry a devilish wink.

(708 words, prompt from the blue november prompt creator i made, cross-posted from bsky)

[talesfromawannabejournalist]

Leathery Love

@things-arent-what-they-seem66 here's part one, hope you enjoy

and @lilacwriter07 enjoy your early Christmas present

Lilith: I'm leaving you Lucifer

After twenty years of marriage never did Lucifer ever imagine those words ever being uttered from the love of his life's lips. Especially not on the day of their wedding anniversary.

Lucifer: What?

Was all he could say to Lilith who looked both tired and disappointed with him as she sat at the table with her arms crossed. They were supposed to be eating a meal together, drinking some wine, then watching a movie. They were at home at Lilith's insistence from a few days ago. She said she wanted to spend the evening with just him. No one else was to see what she wished to do.

He just thought she wanted to try something new. Not break his fucking heart in private so no one can see him cry.

Lilith: I said I'm leaving you Lucifer, I want a divorce.

Lucifer felt his heart start to pace as his breathing slowly turned erratic.

Lucifer: But, but, but I, I don't...why Lily

Lilith bristled at the nickname for a moment before answering.

Lilith: Because I no longer wish to be in a relationship where I fell out of love with you years ago. I swore that when Charlie moved out, I would finally bring myself to get out of a place that has only brought me misery.

With that she stood up and headed upstairs. Lucifer was still reeling when about five minutes later she was coming back down with two bags full of her stuff. Her stuff. Lucifer's eyes widened at the sight of them. It meant,

Lucifer: Lilith please, I beg of you don't go! Please! Lilith

He ran to her when she got to the doors. She stared him down as he stood in front of her exit; however, Lucifer could only stare up with tears starting to stream out onto his pale cheeks.

Lucifer: Lilith...please my darling I'm sorry for whatever I did wrong.

Lucifer then proceeded to do something he'd never thought he'd do in his lifetime due to the man's humungous pride and ego.

Beg

He fell on his knees, clasped his hands together, and begged for her to change her mind. Never did Lucifer ever felt so pathetic in his entire existence. He thought that it would get Lilith to at least think about doing something other than divorce. However, the thirty-eight-year-old singer had already made up her mind a long time ago.

Lilith: I'm sorry Lucifer, but I don't think you were ever meant to be mine.

With that she stepped aside, threw open the doors of their large, grand home and walked out. Never to step inside her former home again. All while Lucifer kneeled on the ground in total despair. It was only when he heard a car engine turning on did, he turn around and saw Lilith pull out of the driveway with her purple convertible and proceed to drive away did he close the door behind him to let out the anguish sob that had built up in his throat.

--

(Two months later)

Lucifer felt like his life was slowly falling apart. Ever since Lilith left, she had been sending him papers and been talking through her lawyer to him. Lilith had been one the most shining aspects of his life. In the entirety of their marriage, he devoted to making her happy. Including to working hard to provide for the both of them. So that way she could work on her music career. He bought her anything she wished for; heck he'd buy her the greatest diamond in all the world to make her happy.

In the end he guessed it just wasn't enough. When she sent him the final paperwork to sign off on their divorce completely shut the once proud, strong man down. Lucifer hadn't been out of the house in weeks and had mostly been taking to moping around the house. Or just laying all day in his bed, not sleeping, just staring up the ceiling, wall, or even occasionally the tv in his room that he put on for white noise. He didn't even go to the office.

Which would have been worse if Lucifer wasn't the boss of his toy company. Even if lately, he's been having his brother/partner Mammon and his assistant Moxxine take care of his work for him. Speaking of family, his brothers, sisters, and even daughter had seen how bad his depression had been and wanted to help him. Especially his daughter Charlie, who went to her Uncle Ozzie and begged for her to find a way to make him feel better. Since him and Ozzie have been the closest out of all seven siblings. Oz had an idea, but he didn't know if it would work

Lucifer: A sex dungeon?!

Lucifer sat across from his brother in his living room while in his robe. Oz noticed he also had deep, dark bags underneath his eyes. His hair looked a bit oily, and he appeared to be growing some hair around his muzzle. However, despite his shaggy appearance his body was rigid, his stark blue eyes wide awake as he took in what his brother just suggested.

Ozzie: Hun, please I know this might seem a lot and too soon after...

Lucifer: I don't care about ugh her. Look Oz even if I wasn't hung up over losing my wife, I don't think it would be right to go to fucking prostitutes!

Ozzie: But that's the thing though I really think these girls or boys can help you, Luci!

Lucifer: How!? How in the hell can they help me!?

Ozzie: By helping you get over Lilith. If you're with one those bad guys down, there soon Lilith will be nothing more than a distant memory. Plus, I distinctly remembering you telling me about this one domniatrix porno you kept watching. You kept telling me how you wish you could be Lilith's naughty boy. Well now you can do that! Just you know not with her.

Lucifer: I told you about that. Since when?

Ozzie: Since that time at that barbeque back in July where you got drunk and confessed to me.

Lucifer must've been hard hammered drunk to have told his brother about that. Since usually Lucifer was extremely private when it came to what happened in his bedroom. The blond man opened his mouth to once again reject his brother's offer but then stopped to think about it. It had been so long since he'd been in the warmth of someone's arms in the bed. Even before Lilith left, she had been distant from him for quite some time.

It actually was the reason for Lucifer looking up on those sites in the first place. He knew no love would be with the person he'd be with; he still wanted to forget about his heartbreak. Even if it was for only one night. Taking a breath, he looked straight at his expecting brother and said,

Lucifer: Alright, I'll go.