#i did not mean to go on and on in these tags again but my passion for vampire academy is never-ending. sigh

[hs-is-loml]

He's My Favorite. (ln4)

Pairing: Lando Norris x Sainz!Actress!Reader

Summary: fans are speculating who y/n might be dating but it turns out it was in front of their faces the whole time. or y/n and lando are mistakenly considered to only be best friends and people are in for a surprise.

Type: Social Media AU! face claim is Bruna Marquezine!

Warnings: probably a few grammar errors. lots of fluff. drivers standing their ground against neymar jr. because he deserves his own warning. inaccurate timelines but then again this is a fictional smau! UNEDITED

a/n: i'm on a kick rn. nothing can stop me.

all translations come from google! english translations are in parentheses!!

masterlist

twitter

instagram

carlossainz55 just made a post

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, landonorris, and 1,560,937 others

carlossainz55 so proud of this one! but papa did say your head is growing too big after you saw yourself on the billboard...and i agree with him. anyways, go support y/n by watching her new movie Blue Beetle now in theaters!

tagged yourusername

view all 117,342 comments

sainzforlife this family is too talented for their own good-

yourusername papa did not say that.

→ carlossainz55 just ask him then @/carlossainzoficial

→ carlossainzoficial mija, es de lo único que has estado hablando desde que lo viste. (daughter, that's all you've been talking about since you saw it.)

→ yourusername papa, that's not very nice. don't try to pretend like i didn't catch you sending the trailer to all your friends last week...

iamrebeccad beautiful girl and amazing movie!

→ yourusername i love you more than my brother.

→ liked by iamrebeccad and 217 others

xolo_mariduena at least you didn't see her crying when she first saw the billboard

→ yourusername XOLO, NO ONE WAS SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT

→ landonorris send the video.

→ yourusername now, look what you've done. all the drivers are going to see me crying now-

→ xolo_mariduena you'll still take me to the next gp right...?

landonorris just to let you guys know she cried after this photo was taken too

→ carlando4life does this mean lando was with the family for the private screening??

→ 4papaya lando is a part of their family so probably😭

instagram

landonorris just made a post

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, mclaren, and 1,860,657 others

landonorris can't believe this girl is going to be blown up on the big screen coming to theaters near you. jokes aside proud of you and everything you do.

tagged yourusername

view all 99,342 comments

thatonebakucorner this post is so sweet!

yourusername thank you, lan🫶🏻

→ carlossainz55 why did you send him a heart?

→ charles_leclerc yeah, what's that about?🤨

→ yourusername carlos, you're just jealous you didn't get a post from lando

georgerussell63 i never get appreciation posts like this

→ landonorris what do you want me to post about your slideshows?

→ alex_albon it's because you're not y/n

welovey/n LOL not the drivers grilling lando about this post

ln4csforever "proud of you and everything you do" LANDO JUST TELL HER YOU LOVE HER ALREADY

→ paddockfashion please- like lando could pull someone like y/n

twitter

instagram

yourusername just made a post

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, neymarjr, and 1,341,972 others

yourusername such a crazy week but glad i got to spend it with some of my favorite people. thank you for all the love and support you guys have given to Blue Beetle!

tagged carlossainz55 and landonorris

view all 117,593 comments

worldchampionsisaid what is neymar doing here?!?

→ neymarandy/n they need to get back together asap!

→ mywifeisy/n yes because that would be such a good idea even though he cheated on his baby mama while she was pregnant??

oscarpiastri lando is asking if you're serious with the guy in the third photo

→ oscarpiastri apparently, i wasn't supposed to ask you on here so now lando is yelling at me.

carmenmmundt proud of you, love! ❤️

→ yourusername love you, carmen! 🤎

ferraricountyourdays the third pic?? Y/N, WHO IS THAT MAN??

→ y/nismilf she needs to hard launch him already!

neymarjr linda como sempre, amor. (beautiful as always, love.)

→ carlossainz55 no, go away.

→ charles_leclerc wrong post, buddy.

→ georgerussell63 abosolutely not-

→ danielricciardo don't forget what happened last time you tried to contact her.

→ maxverstappen1 move along.

→ fifaandf1crossover do you know you have 30 minutes?

→ y/npleasemarryme love that they always protect her!

shesmyfavactress weird she posted picture with her bf along with one of lando and carlos

→ f1girlies maybe because she's an adult and allowed to be friends with her brother's ex teammate?

fernandoalo_oficial i remember when i used to be your favorite driver

→ carlossainzoficial those were the days

→ yourusername you two are still my favorite of all time.

→ carlossainz55 i'm hurt, y/n.

→ landonorris so was your caption meaningless?

→ yourusername i can't win.

whatacrossover oh, lando and y/n are definitely dating.

yourusername just added to their story

shared post by yourusername and landonorris

liked by oscarpiastri, carlossainz55, anasainzvdec, and 2,493,968 others

yourusername and landonorris just kidding, he's my favorite.

view all 136,975 comments

carlossainz55 that hand is getting a bit low, don't you think?

→ yourusername get over it. you've had years to get used to this already.

→ inmyf1era YEARS you say?

landonorris i get to be with you every day. what a life.

→ yourusername i love you.

→ oscarpiastri you're ridiculous

→ charles_leclerc mate, look what she has turned you into

→ yourusername charles, i will tell alex about this.

→ charles_leclerc I WAS JUST KIDDING. PLEASE NO

lilymhe was waiting for this hard launch!

→ alex_albon i thought lando was going to spill before they could even do one

carlossainzoficial what can i say i love my son so i approve

→ yourusername could've said that you love and care for your daughter's happiness

sebastianvettel actually, y/n forgot who her real favorite is

→ yourusername love you, seb!

→ landonorris back off, old man.

[bandedbulbussnarfblat]

I just suddenly had a memory and had to share. Usually I'm one of those stick to the tags people, but I think this explains the disconnect some people experience entirely.

Once upon a time, I was an elementary school teacher. (I only made it one year before I switched to being a TA instead, and parents like these were part of the reason.) I'm gonna put it under a thingy bc idk how to be concise.

So at the beginning of the year, parents get supply lists. They try to keep them mostly the same throughout grade level, your standard box of #2 pencils, 2 pens, 2 boxes of crayons (bc kids break crayons like crazy) an eraser, 2 glue sticks and some sort pencil box/pouch to keep their stuff in.

First day, kids come in and start unloading their stuff. I start taking up glue sticks to put in the clear container on the counter/cubby. This one dad gets mad, saying that he didn't buy glue sticks for every kid in the class to use. (I'm doing the same thing with the 2nd box of crayons, but I am telling kids to write their names on them using their pens, bc some kids got Crayola and some kids got Rose-Art and that's something parents might get mad over.) I try to very politely explain to him that it's easier to keep them all in one place as the kids tend to lose them, or forget to roll down the glue or put the cap back on, and this way I can check behind them and make sure none of the glue sticks are wasted.

This guy is sure that his precious little princess of a daughter would never forget to put her cap back on her glue stick, despite being like, seven. Mind you, we are in the "waiting area" between three classrooms. It has the bathrooms, and the tables where the kids can be pulled for one on one or small group work. We can't step into the hall bc I have to monitor my students. TAs all have morning duties.

And also, what if she never uses two whole glue sticks? Am I just going to keep it instead of sending it home with her? This man is nearly having a full on tantrum over glue sticks. This was over a decade ago, when you could still buy a pack of 2 for a dollar and change.

I am nervous, bc there is a man who is raising his voice at me, but I am also pissed off, bc there is a man raising his voice in front of my students. So I laugh it off and walk away, telling him most of us don't mind sharing with our friends, "do we?" I get a tiny little chorus of voices that say 'no'. I add that by the time winter break comes, I'll have to go out and buy more myself anyway, like I did with all the other supplies that were already in the classroom. But that donations are always appreciated. Then I just started talking to my students and ignoring him and he left. And I'm really glad bc I may have started crying if he kept being mean to me.

Oh, and his daughter ended up being my student who would threaten to hold her breath until she passed out if she didn't get her way. I think I rocked her entire world when I told her to go ahead; as soon as she passed out her body would start breathing again on its own.

my dad, trying to explain the concept of money to me: say you have a sandwich, and i need your sandwich. but i don't have anything to give you. you're not just gonna give it to me.

me: i would just give it to you.

my dad:

[theorist-fox]

Paint

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Crossposted on AO3

Part 1 >> Part 2 >> Part 3 >> Part 4

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: You and Simon share a cigarette. He slips up, and shares something more.

18+

CW: smut, not explicit. angst. hurt/comfort. miscommunication. mutual pining. sexual and non sexual intimacy. and guess what, my favorite tag, simon ghost riley is bad at feelings.

Masterlist 🦊

𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬

“Need to rest?”

You doubt he hasn’t heard you arrive, even if he’s facing the opposite way. It’s true, you could’ve gotten rid of at least the Kevlar vest or taken off your boots—but being in a safehouse doesn’t mean it’s literally safe, and you don’t like taking risks. Plus, there’s no time for getting dressed if there’s an emergency.

That's why you're sure he's heard you: boots thudding against the floor, the bulletproof vest scraping on the cotton of your uniform, the carabiners hanging from your tac belt, or the gun on your hip that clicks when you walk.

Normally, those sounds are muted; muscles and bulk don’t necessarily mean you move like a bull in a china shop. But you know the beast, now dormant, that is sitting on the floor right at your side.

Fucking bat.

He could move exclusively through echolocation, eyes closed shut; who knows? You wouldn’t put it past him.

You think you should start spreading the rumour, just to watch people shit their pants even more when he walks past. It’s already a sight you swear by, the way their faces pale while you stride beside him, dipping your chin to your chest to hide the quiet giggles—why not add some spice to it?

However, your fun thoughts are interrupted by the man himself.

“S’my turn tonight.” He replies listlessly, eyes locked on the door—armoured, triple-bolted, locked handle, and trip wire at the entrance, courtesy of Soap. He wanted to be safe, he said. Sure—being in a safehouse doesn’t necessarily mean you’re safe, you agree, but Simon always likes to take things to the next level. And Price only feeds that urge, twice as paranoid as your not-so-friendly Ghost.

His watch has started three hours ago, and would you look at that? The door is still there. Closed. Bolted shut. Unexploded. Shocking.

You wonder why the five of you are even bothering with rotations when the place is quite literally a bunker a few feet underground, and if someone were to walk in unannounced, their arse would blow up to bits thanks to Johnny’s intricate wire trap.

But oh well. Simon is like that, and Price is even worse, so you’ll give in to their wishes like Kyle and Johnny did and take it the way it comes.

Then again, sleep isn’t apparently in your plans, and four eyes are always better than two, so you plop on the floor next to Simon, legs outstretched in front of you, mimicking his posture.

You nudge his ankle with the tip of your boot, because he’s freakishly tall, and your foot won’t quite reach his. He bends his knee enough to nudge you back.

“I can take over,” you tell him, knocking the back of your head against the wall. “Can’t sleep anyway.”

You feel his eyes on you, lingering like the muzzle of a gun to your temple, but it’s just a threat—you know he won’t shoot. Though hatred is permanently carved in his eyes—some leftovers of a past life—it feels more like a burning weapon poised to pierce your head, one that never quite follows through.

He’s kinder than he looks.

“Nightmares?”

“No.”

“Go on, then.” Simon says, with a jerky nod of his jaw your way.

“Feel a little restless, I guess.” You reply with a shrug, as if this is your daily routine by now. “Not exactly a comfortable place, this one. Plus, cap snores.”

He snorts. You smile.

“Loud engine, tha’ one.” He comments, returning his eyes to the door.

“You do too, y’know? Well, you don’t snore much, but,” you gesture with your finger at your mouth, “you grind your teeth at night.”

“Ain’t snorin’, tha’.”

“Still,” you purse your lips in a cheeky smile, “Annoying—that.”

You watch him give you the side-eye of the century. The blueprint of it. But it lasts a second before he returns his focus to the door, as if afraid it might run away or something.

"No one’s makin’ ya, y’know?" he drawls. "Don’t have to sleep over—could always jog on after you’re done.”

After you’re done, he says—as if it’s a chore.

You hate when he takes ten steps back after he’s taken one forward. One day he’s all up in your business, worrying his mind and his heart, and the next he tells you to go take a hike after you’re done.

It makes your belly churn and melt like he’s pouring acid over it—you’re in too deep, and you know it. But you're too much of a coward to drag yourself out of the muck of this relationship. You’d rather sink into its depths and be swallowed whole than face the thought of never seeing him again. You’ve already come to terms with that truth—it doesn’t get easier at all, though.

Instead of biting back, you roll your head his way and smile, small and genuine.

“I like sleeping with you.”

His shoulders tighten as if he’s startled by the way you replied so transparently, but he keeps his eyes on the door, giving you nothing else to work with.

“You don’t?” You venture.

No feelings, Sarge—you can practically hear him say in the silence that hangs tersely between you. Simon will die on that hill; you’re sure of it. Even if sometimes he slips and cares, says words you’d never think to hear from his mouth, fucks you too slowly for it to be considered just sex, it’s just the way it is, the way he says.

You know he’ll never leave his shell. Where he’s comfortably lonely, where he’s secure and safe. Whether he cares for you or not, the wall’s too high to climb, too thick to blow.

But the awful person here is not him for behaving the way he does; it’s you for putting your heart through the meat grinder knowing fully well it’ll come out like butchered meat.

If you're looking for someone to hate, Simon isn't the one.

“Negative.” He drawls.

You shift uncomfortably next to him, subtly pulling away a few inches from his leg.

But then he adds, “Toss an’ turn too much. Hog the covers.”

You stiffen and scowl. “I don’t.”

“You do.”

“Well, you could always yank them back,” you reply, sounding a little too petty for your age.

Simon finally turns his head your way, but now it’s you who’s glaring holes into the (shockingly) still unmoving door. His eyes linger on your profile for a second too long, and you’re just about ready to bite back with some snarky comment about him taking a picture so it’ll last longer when he speaks first.

“Don’t have the heart to wake you up.”

You feel something inside you soften and melt. Gingerly, you turn your head his way.

Your eyes lock, and his are creased at the corners—not with a smile, but with tender attention, as if he’s taking in the details of something worth his time, his concentration.

You plaster on a smile that’s both embarrassed and pleased, as your cheeks warm over.

A soft huff to blow out the heat gathered right under your skin, and then you’re nudging his shoulder with your hand. He dramatically lolls sideways.

“That must be the nicest thing you’ve ever told me.”

He nudges you back, and you dramatically flop on your side. He snorts.

“Don’t get used to it.” He says, and gently curls his fingers around your forearm to lift you up.

You’re unexpectedly pulled in until you’re tucked in his side. The team is right behind a thin wall, and the knowledge initially turns your body into stiff marble. While their snores signal that your privacy is safe, you don’t want to repeat past mistakes. No matter how alluring those memories are.

But still—you don’t fight Simon’s hold around you; you don’t dare.

You trust his judgement and progressively melt into him, nestling your cheek on his chest as he drapes his arm over your shoulders. Nice and comfortable, in spite of how hard it is with all this stupid gear strapped on both of you. The Velcro on one of his front pockets scratches your skin, but the rest of you is so cosy that you don’t care. You toss one leg across his, and he doesn’t flinch or pull away.

“Can’t wait for evac to come get us,” you sigh. “I’d kill for a smoke.”

Simon squeezes your shoulder. You decide to take it as a green light to rest; your eyes flutter closed almost automatically, as if he’s pressed a button the moment he pulled you in. Grateful, you bask in this brief show of care—allowing Simon to take that one step forward, fully knowing he’ll just take ten steps back the next chance he gets, because that’s simply how he is.

He doesn’t add anything to your comment, probably registering it as further small talk, and you know he doesn’t care for that. He has a sort of internal threshold about how much mindless chatter he can tolerate in one sitting. You're aware of it, and you don’t mind, instead taking the quiet moment for what it is: a fragment of peace.

His heartbeat is faint to your ear, too many layers between you and his chest for you to hear it clearly. His thumb swipes softly on the fabric of your uniform. And he’s warm, like a furnace rumbling with rekindled fire. Suddenly, sleeping sounds much less of a hassle and more of a treat.

Simon’s chest rises softly under your cheek. The buzzing of the neon lights overhead turns into pleasant white noise, much like the obnoxiously loud snoring coming from the bedroom behind the wall where you and Simon are leaning.

It’s only after a few moments that he shifts—imperceptibly, like the subtle man that he is. But you catch it anyway. Spec Ops and their senses, right?

Yet you trust him, so you don’t bother opening your eyes. You count your blessings, and they are few: Simon holding you to his chest while hostiles run rampant right above your heads is at the top of the list right now, and you won’t let it slip.

But then—a tap on your nose. A featherlight touch of something papery that finely crinkles when it meets your skin. You scrunch your face and force your eyes open to see…

…a cigarette.

You blink yourself awake, though you hadn't fallen deeply enough into sleep for it to be startling.

“For me?” You ask, craning your neck to look up at him, only to find him already gazing down at you.

“If you’re polite ‘bout it.” He replies, tapping the tip of the cigarette on your nose again.

You smile. “Please?”

He hums approvingly and slots it between your lips. Plucks the Zippo lighter from one of the front pockets of his vest. Swiftly flicks it open.

The flame dances before your eyes, blue hues growing into yellows and oranges. You lean closer, allowing the tip of the cigarette to hover right into it, until the white paper burns dark, until it finally glows red.

The first drag you take feels like a warm hug. Not often do you have the chance to sit back and smoke while on the job—the glowing cherry is like a big, fat, neon arrow pointing at your head for eventual snipers. Too dangerous to even try.

But six feet underground (quite literally), inside a windowless, armoured bunker, you’re safe from unwanted scopes and deadly bullets. And your cigarette is your prize right now, so you savour it like you should.

You groan in bliss, smoke leaving your lips in foggy curls.

“Lifesaver,” you murmur, returning your head to his chest.

He squeezes your shoulder. “Easy to please.”

You snuggle closer, and he holds you there in comfortable silence. But he’s incredibly tactile tonight: fingers draw mindless circles on your shoulder, while his other hand has found purchase on your thigh, thumb swiping back and forth along the inner seam of your trousers.

It’s not sexual. You think you’d recognise when Simon’s touch turns into something carnal and covetous. No, now he’s just… touching. Sensing. Testing the softness of the meat of your thigh between his fingers, feeling the curve of your shoulder with his pads. It feels like he’s blowing softly at the cinders of a fire that’s been smothered by the more grievous events of this long operation. It torches your belly; rekindled flames gently lick at your skin, until you feel soft and malleable, warm and weightless.

You smoke peacefully, eyes occasionally fluttering closed. Subtle shivers run through you when his hand travels to your side, right where the bulletproof vest doesn’t cover. 

Three or four drags in, a gloved hand appears before your eyes. He beckons with his fingers.

A breathless chuckle. A fond roll of your eyes. You tap the column of ash off the tip and place the cigarette between them.

Simon uses his thumb to lift the mask off his face until it bunches up on his forehead. You shift enough to sit upright and tilt your head his way.

His cheeks are flushed red, irritated by the continuous rubbing of the balaclava. Slivers of paler skin stretch across his cheekbones and upper lip—knotted scars that have always been there, disrupting the growth of his stubble and the smoothness of his skin. Yet now, after tracing them time and time again, they blend in so seamlessly that you have to focus to even notice them at all. Lost their shock value, they have. Now, they’re just small pieces of a puzzle—insignificant in the grand scheme that is Simon.

He brings the cigarette to his lips. His cheeks hollow as he takes a lungful of smoke. It puffs out of his lips a moment later, as he sighs with the same relief you did moments earlier. Just like that, his apparent tranquillity infuses you with the same peace.

“Don’t finish it.” You murmur, very aware that if he did, you wouldn’t mind.

His mouth twitches, and his pupils swivel down to where you’re nestled in his side. Honey lashes fan his cheekbones, eyelids smeared with black greasepaint that makes the chocolate of his eyes look like the warmest of browns. Dark ripples mottled with gold.

“Learn to share.” He drawls, but contrary to his words, he brings the cigarette to your mouth.

You wrap your lips around the orange filter, brushing briefly with the pads of Simon’s gloved fingers. Another intake of smoke has your shoulders relax, but before you can breathe it out of your system, Simon tilts your chin up with his thumb and leans in dangerously close.

Not that you haven’t been this close before, of course. You’ve had him kissing you silly, mouthing at your skin, or drowning between your legs. But to your poor battered heart, every time feels like the first. A blessing, because you’d never trade this feeling for anything in the world. A curse, because it’s a lonely one.

Smoke billows from your parted lips into tendrils that travel upwards and sting your eyes. You don’t close them, but your eyelids fall a little heavier—though you don’t blame it on the smoke.

He nudges your nose with his, instructing you to tilt your head back.

You do.

His thumb tugs your chin, gently forcing your mouth to part. Your stomach flips and twists, leaving you dizzy and unsure of which way is which. The flames from before are melting you inside out now, burning liquid pooling at your lower belly. It makes you muscles clench, your thighs squeeze.

Simon’s eyes stay on yours as he brings the cigarette to one corner of his lips. He takes a purposeful drag. The burning paper crackles. The sound is ten times louder to your ears.

Your blood pumps madly—you feel it run and collect in the apples of your cheeks, in your head, spinning and spinning, until your thoughts are blurry and disconnected.

The arm coiled around you curves so that he can trace your shoulder, following the outline of your gear, and then his hand settles around the side of your face. He keeps you still, fingers flexed at your jaw and thumb dimpling your cheek. The cold leather of his glove should counterbalance the warmth blooming right under your skin, giving you some sort of comfort, yet it’s such a jarring contrast that it only causes the air to lodge in your throat.

The intensity in his eyes, masked by the usual indolent display, is not lost on you; he makes it impossible, unthinkable, to look away. The air around him is stuffy, almost suffocating, and the haze of the smoke, with its pungent smell, doesn’t help. Yet somehow, it makes him look so unbelievably soft, like everything around him is dimmed and unimportant. Like his eyes are all that matters, or the shape of his lips and the slight crook of his nose.

The hand holding the cigarette goes to rest on your thigh. It tenses under his touch, and he squeezes it until it softens right under his palm.

Smoke leaves his lips, then, billowing right into yours. It travels down your tongue, pungent and hot, even richer in taste after it’s been in his mouth, too.

Something tightens in your belly. Makes your head spin further and your hands tremble, as they lie rigidly at your sides. Tension spreads through your body something fierce, muscles coiled in beautiful anticipation, but the lines in your face are smoothed down when Simon brushes his thumb on your cheek.

You inhale. Nicotine travels down your lungs and inflates them with the earthy notes of tobacco, the subtle hint of mint of a gum he must’ve chewed on before, the humidity of his warm breath.

“Like that,” he breathes hoarsely, abandoning the effort of sounding even remotely unaffected.

You blink slowly, exhaling a fleeting cloud of smoke back into his mouth.

“What?” You ask, so quietly you can’t even hear it over the sound of your own heartbeat.

The cigarette is presented right next to your face, once again. The column of ash at the tip is longer than the portion still available to smoke. As Simon brings it to your lips, you see it crumble onto your trousers in your peripherals. You don’t care.

“Learn to share,” he repeats hoarsely. “Just like that.”

And he nudges your lips open by slotting the filter between them. His gaze falls on them like it’s inevitable, like his eyes are metal and your mouth is a magnet.

You take a slow drag, watching his face with hooded eyes. Simon follows raptly the way your cheeks sink, how your lips curl. He’s lost his subtlety now, more obvious when you notice the heaviness with which his throat bobs.

Gingerly, you raise a hand to hook your fingers at the shoulder straps of his vest, pulling him in. He slowly follows your lead, inching closer once more.

Smoke flows from your mouth to his, a wave of soft grey tendrils that tethers Simon to you. And he breathes it in, breathes you in, closing the gap.

His lips meet yours in a kiss that couldn’t be considered one for how faint it is. But his arm, still curled around your shoulders and holding your face steady, tightens just a fraction.

Simon brushes his nose with yours. His head cocks sideways, and he presses his mouth to you again.

You feel like every nerve ending that’s being touched is set ablaze, synapses overriding in the poor attempt to concoct a thought, a word, a breath. Nothing leaves you, if not a trembling sigh that stings with nicotine.

Simon pulls back. You whine pathetically, and you don’t care, as your eyes flutter open—you hadn’t even noticed you’d closed them at all. You trace a path from his lips upwards, studying intently the lines in his face and the way the camo paint hasn’t managed to settle in the wrinkles around his eyes, in the furrow between his brows.

Pinched, they are. As if that kiss has worried him more than any bit of sex ever could.

Your heart clenches at the thought. Writhes pitifully, as if it could talk him out of his spiral, bring him back to you, burn his lips to yours until they merge into a single fucking entity that’s impossible to tell apart.

But he nods softly, then. Your chest unravels, lightens. You nod back.

The cigarette in his hand falls forgotten on the dark concrete floor. His palm lands on your waist, fingers delicately tugging at the bulletproof vest.

His lips find you again. Softly, like he’s testing waters he’s already more than navigated—conquered, even. Mouths slot perfectly like they’ve been trying to do this thing all this time, all along.

You return his kiss with the same caution, trying to quell that fire ignited in your belly. Soft pecks echo in the quiet room, drowning the sounds of your teammates sleeping just behind the wall, the flicker of the lights overhead. Focusing on Simon’s lips, on his taste, and the slight twitch of his brow pressed to yours.

You busy your other hand by hooking it around one of the front pockets of his vest, where a magazine sits. His chest rises heavily under the press of your palm.

Without ever breaking apart, you shift until you’re on your knees, gaining the rare advantage of height. Simon tilts his head accordingly, resting it back against the wall. Your hands initially settle on his shoulders, then on the slopes of his neck, thumbing gently at each side.

He holds you uncharacteristically tender, a hand on your waist and the other on your thigh, where he pats once, twice, until you’re following silent instructions and end up straddling his lap.

Simon’s kiss never stops, nor does it deepen. He teases your lips with his own, leaving gentle pecks that have your stomach erupt in butterflies, your throat tight and suddenly parched.

You wonder if this is the moment in which he slips one hand under the waistband of your trousers, like he always does. Whether he’ll settle on teasing the blooming wetness on your knickers until he’ll feel merciful enough to travel past the cotton and plunge his fingers into you. Or if he’ll simply skew the gusset of your panties to the side and touch you, formalities set aside.

He does none of that.

Instead, his hand settles at the back of your head, the other one on your waist. You flutter your eyes open, only to find his completely shut—and if Simon Riley dares to look so peaceful, you’ll allow yourself that blessing too.

You lose yourself in him, sharing unhurried kisses only framed by the ripping sound of velcro being unstrapped—his fingers working deftly with your tac vest at your sides. You help him out, lifting your arms so he can take it off.

Simon tosses it behind you. Pulls you back down to him again, with long fingers keeping you still by your nape, while other hungry ones untuck your shirt from your trousers so they can feel your skin. Your stomach ripples when he touches it.

His palm explores, follows the curve of each fold, of each line, tracing a path that warms up under his hand and pitifully freezes when he leaves it unattended. Until the tips of his fingers reach the underline of your bra. You sigh softly in his mouth.

“Yes?” He breathes.

“Yes.” You reply.

It must make something tick in his brain, because his painfully obvious tent pressing up to you twitches under your weight.

Simon kisses you slowly as he palms at your breast right above the cottoned bra, causing your sex to flutter around nothing, yet not in a way that feels unfulfilling.

He spares no more seconds to hook his fingers around the central seam of your bra, pulling down.

He cups one of your breasts as it spills out—feeling its weight in his hand, thumbing softly at the nipple until it hardens, until you feel just enough out of breath.

You think you feel him tremble when he leaves your mouth to travel with featherlight kisses down your jaw, nipping right under the bone, where your flesh is plumper. You shiver and tilt your head to give him more room to work with, offering your neck to satiate his appetite.

His kisses are open and wet, but no less patient, as if he thinks he has all the time in the world to savour you until he’s content. He doesn’t; you know it, but you can’t summon the courage to remind him of where you are, of the possibility of onlookers.

No, because he’s tender, he’s kind, he’s bordering on reverent, as he kisses your neck, as he touches your chest.

His hand follows the indent of your spine, settling at the base of it and toying with the hem of your shirt only to lift it up and brush your skin. Hairs all over your body stand on end. You breathe heavily and slow, steadying yourself with your hands on his shoulders—your fingernails digging in as if that might help you quiet down.

“Y’ taste good," he whispers to your skin.

Your lips twitch in a smile.

“Haven’t showered in days,” you reply just as quietly.

He bites into your neck. Your spine arches in brief shock, and he keeps you from falling backwards with his palm at your back.

“An’ yet,” he drawls, pulling back just to lift those dark eyes at you, “Sweet as a peach.”

The softest grin spreads on your lips almost reflexively.

“Flattery will get you—”

“Anywhere,” he interjects, lifting your shirt to expose your chest until the fabric bunches right above your breasts.

You let him, perhaps proving him right. Even so, you cup his cheeks when he eases in closer, leaving open kisses at your sternum. The paint over his eyes transfers to your skin, leaving darkened streaks of sweat and black grease.

You briefly wonder if your neck looks the same, or if there’s any residue left on your face. If he’s unknowingly marked you in such a spontaneous way, simply because it was meant to happen. The quiver in your chest becomes easier to understand then—a sense of belonging in the shape of messy grease marks left in Simon’s wake.

He murmurs something you can’t quite place, hushed and lost in the haze that has been building in your head, in the thunder of your heartbeat. You hum inquisitively, brushing your hand through his dampened hair.

He repeats himself. You hear him now. You do—quite clearly, actually.

“Missed you,” he says.

The poor thing that’s your heart cracks fiercely. You wish it were a neat fracture, easier to piece back together, but it’s jagged and dangerously sharp instead.

“You didn’t,” you whisper. It’s a plea, because there are only so many lies you can take in exchange for a fuck.

His hands connect with each side of your waist, grasping at the flesh to keep you still. He doesn’t use that grip to grind your hips to his own, he doesn’t use it to relieve the tension of his hardened sex.

He uses them simply because he can. Because he wants to. Wants to feel you, touch you, sense where you are, while his lips explore somewhere else, where your flesh is softer and plumper, more sensitive.

“I did.” He insists breathlessly, careful not to raise his voice. “Fuck—I did.”

You push at his shoulders, but he doesn’t let up.

“You didn’t,” you repeat through gritted teeth. Tears build in your eyes much too rapidly, fuelled by the frantic beat of your heart.

He latches on to your nipple. You choke on a whine as he tugs at it softly, grasping it between his front teeth. His arms come to hold you entirely, wrapped like vines around your middle. Slowly, you surrender, ceasing your futile attempts to push him away. 

But you cry. The sting in your eyes finally finds relief as you allow fat tears to roll down your cheeks. Simon doesn’t look up at you, maybe because your sorrow translates into his guilt. However, he stops tasting you with a weary sigh, gently resting his forehead on your chest as he holds you steady.

“I did,” he croaks. "I do."

You hold him too, encircling your arms around his head and resting your cheek on top of it. His hands go from still to hesitating until he is the one who gives in, this time, and brushes them soothingly down your back.

You stay like that for what feels like hours, but judging by the lack of movements from your teammates behind that thin wall, it’s probably been only a handful of minutes. Regardless, Simon holds you through all of it. Until he feels the soft stutters in your chest quell, the sniffles abate.

Only then does he lift his head. Only then does he cup your face in his hands. Thumbs brushing your cheekbones, collecting dried-up tears. They glide on smoothly, which makes you think that maybe his greasepaint has transferred onto your skin there as well.

It shouldn’t, but your heart flips at the thought anyway.

“I'm not a good man, love.” He murmurs, eyes dark and unusually sad. “But I'm no liar.”

The earnestness in his voice almost makes you choke up again. 

You swallow it down. Inhale.

Recollect yourself. Exhale. Lean your cheek in his hand.

Your eyes are downcast, staring at the dark streaks of camo paint fading and blending on your chest.

“I know,” you croak, unsure but wanting to believe him. Almost needing to.

Simon’s hand leaves your cheek. It’s so much colder now that the air brushes your damp skin, but the ice sublimates suddenly when he taps your chin.

You lift your head and lock his eyes. They shine with something unshed, perhaps tears, perhaps words he can’t place, ones he can’t say.

“No lies.” He subtly shakes his head. “Not to ya, ya hear?”

You nod softly. “No lies.”

"Missed ya," he says again, his voice cracking in a way that makes you think this is harder on him than it is on you. "You gotta understand that. There ain’t a day goes by that I don’t."

You swallow thickly. Throat dry, tongue stuck to your palate. Eyes fixed on him, once again unthinkable to look away, but for different reasons entirely. Perhaps this is more than one step forward; perhaps this is a whole new path from which he can’t backpedal. You don’t raise your expectations, you don’t dare—but hope is as much of a bastard as it is beautiful, and it flickers back to life.

“Okay,” you reply, not feeling like you can say it back, not feeling like it could stand in front of the way he’s said it—so viscerally that it ripped at your heart.

He kisses you again, soft like before. His hands return your bra to its place, your shirt down to your hips.

You kiss for a moment more, saying everything your voices can’t, as touch returns to be the only language you both understand.

He helps you off his lap. No more words are exchanged as he dresses you up—tucking the shirt back in your pants, putting the vest around you again, making sure it fits just right when he tightens the straps at your waist.

Wordlessly, Simon invites you back to where it all started, that night. Next to him, with his arm around your shoulders, your leg across his own, and your head on his chest. His eyes on the door, focused. His watch is not over yet.

You fall asleep, coaxed by the soft brushes of his hand on your shoulder, the rise of his chest each time he breathes.

Your hand in his own, his paint on your cheek.

[honeyhae-svt]

sorry kisses (mwuah)

hwang hyunjin x gn!reader

genre: romantic comedy, domestic fluff, light angst warnings: minor argument/conflict between characters, slight miscommunication, excessive amounts of kissing (if that counts), playful teasing, mentions of surprise, planning and gift-giving tags: hyunjin x reader, romantic comedy, domestic fluff, soft boyfriend hyunjin, miscommunication trope, apology scene, reader insert, light angst with fluff, relationship drama wc: 931 a/n: random drabbles cause its cannon that hyunjin hates it when he's being called by his full name lol (lazy drabbles cause im a little tipsy)

the slam of the kitchen cabinet echoed through the apartment as you stood by the counter, arms crossed tightly against your chest. hyunjin paced in the living room, running his hand through his hair for the third time in the past five minutes. the tension between you both was sharp enough to slice through the air.

“i told you i didn’t mean to forget, okay?” his voice was low, tinged with frustration, but his eyes softened, betraying the guilt he was trying to hide. “it’s not like i did it on purpose.”

“not on purpose? seriously, hwang hyunjin?” the moment his full name left your lips, his head snapped up, his expression a mix of surprise and irritation.

“oh, come on! don’t call me that,” he snapped, stepping closer. “you only use my full name when you’re mad, and it’s weird. you’re my girlfriend, not my mom.”

“well, maybe if you acted like a responsible boyfriend, i wouldn’t have to sound like your mom,” you shot back, your tone biting.

he let out a dramatic groan, throwing his head back. “this is so unfair. you’re making it sound like i don’t care about you when i literally spent all day yesterday planning that stupid surprise.”

“wait, what?” your arms dropped as confusion replaced your anger.

his cheeks flushed pink as he avoided your gaze, scratching the back of his neck. “y-yeah. that’s why i forgot to pick up the thing you asked for. i was trying to… you know… make you happy. but clearly, i suck at it.”

your heart softened at his confession, though a small part of you remained stubborn. “you could’ve just told me that instead of letting me think you didn’t care.”

“i was going to! but then you called me ‘hwang hyunjin’ and it all went downhill from there.” his pout was almost comical, but you bit back a smile.

“you really hate it that much, huh?”

“of course i do,” he muttered, his voice quieter now. “you’re supposed to call me something cute, not make me feel like i’m in trouble.”

despite yourself, a small laugh escaped. “okay, fine. i’ll stick to cute nicknames. but only if you promise to communicate better next time.”

his lips twitched into a sheepish smile as he took a tentative step closer, his hand brushing against yours. “deal. just… no more full name. it’s terrifying.”

you let him intertwine your fingers, the warmth of his touch easing the last remnants of your frustration. “fine. but if you mess up again, all bets are off.”

he leaned in, his forehead gently bumping against yours as his voice dropped to a whisper. “guess i’ll just have to make sure i never mess up again.”

you barely had time to react before his lips found yours. the kiss was soft at first, an unspoken apology that made your knees weaken. his hand came up to cradle your face, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, leaving no room for doubts or lingering anger.

“so… am i forgiven?” he murmured against your lips, a teasing lilt in his voice.

“maybe,” you whispered back, capturing his lips in another kiss before he could protest. his hands moved to your waist, holding you as if afraid you’d pull away.

“you know,” he said between kisses, “if this is what happens every time i mess up, maybe i should do it more often.”

you pulled back, playfully swatting his chest. “don’t push your luck, jinnie.”

his grin widened at the nickname, and he quickly pulled you back in, pressing his lips to yours again, this time with more urgency. “i really am sorry,” he murmured, his kisses trailing to your jaw and down to your neck. “just wanted to do something special for you.”

“you’re lucky you’re cute,” you mumbled, your hands tangling in his hair as he continued peppering your skin with kisses.

“lucky? no, i’m just smart. distracting you with kisses is a foolproof plan,” he teased, his lips finding yours once more.

the next evening, you returned home to find the apartment dark except for the soft glow of fairy lights strung across the living room. a faint, familiar melody drifted through the air, and as you stepped further inside, hyunjin appeared from behind the couch, holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

“what’s all this?” you asked, though your voice had already softened.

he smiled shyly, holding the bouquet out to you. “my apology. properly this time.”

you took the flowers, your heart swelling at the sight of him—all awkward yet so endearing. “you really went all out, huh?”

“of course,” he said, stepping closer until he could brush a strand of hair from your face. “i wanted to remind you how much i love you.”

your cheeks warmed, and you leaned in, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was sweet yet demanding, a silent reminder of everything you both felt but couldn’t always put into words. he responded instantly, his arms wrapping around you as the flowers fell to the side, forgotten in favor of the moment.

“so,” he said when you finally pulled apart, his voice breathless. “does this mean i’m forgiven?”

“we’ll see,” you teased, tugging him down for another kiss. this one was slower, deeper, as if to say everything words couldn’t.

by the time you finally settled onto the couch, tangled together under a blanket with snacks and a stack of movies waiting, you couldn’t help but smile against his lips. “for the record,” you murmured, “you’re not allowed to mess up just to get out of trouble like this.”

he laughed softly, kissing you again. “duly noted.”

and as the night unfolded, filled with kisses and quiet laughter, you couldn’t imagine ever staying mad at him for long.

a/n: tenchu for readinggg ! first stray kids fanfic <3

[parfaitblogs]

winter wonderland ❀ s. reid x reader

in which it snows, you have a vision for a snowman, and spencer reid is all too easy to convince. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: fluff tags: established relationship. brat enabler!spencer reid!!! pathetic corny potentially tooth rotting fluff. they kiss a lot.  word count: 1k a/n: wrote this for margot because i mean she did request it… lol… brat enabler spencer reid is prevalent but i mean that's just the parfaitblogs' spencer reid on the reg…

❄︎ advent calendar masterlist

If Spencer Reid were ever to pursue a prosecuting career, he'd hope to God you are never his opposition. 

Too many of his firm personal rules held no weight when they challenged your own, and his ground almost always dissolves under his feet the second you disagree. 

Like going out in the snow. 

One minute he was appreciating the grey skies and white sheet covering the ground, and the next, he was pulling boots and winter clothes onto his body to cover up.

An argument that he so sorely lost, that began with you asking him to go out into the snow with him. 

His response had been, "No, there's still snow falling—" not really "—and it'll be freezing."

"That's what warm clothes are for!" 

And even if he wanted to back himself up and not give in, you were handing him a scarf and a sweater, regardless. Never mind the fact that you had already dressed up ready for the snow, looking warm and so pretty, and Spencer was but a man ridiculously in love with you. 

So, he let you drag him out to the snow without any more complaints. 

And you had agreed on a snowman. A simple, normal snowman with a carrot nose and pebbles for his buttons. The only compromise made was Spencer agreeing to you using his purple scarf to wrap around the snowman's neck, instead of a typical red one like he was imagining. 

Truth be told, making a snowman with you was proving to be very difficult. 

His first battle began with you refusing to wear mittens out of the house, claiming you needed the extra grip for the snow to make the perfect shapes. A fifteen minute dispute was what it took for you to reluctantly cover the skin of your hands. Even then, he caught you trying to remove the fabric from your fingers time and time again.

The second battle lay within the design of the snowman. You begging to make something fun, and Spencer reminding you of the agreement to make a normal snowman until you gave up. 

And yet, somewhere between the collection of the snow, rolling it into balls, and putting the snowman together, it developed from a regular shaped snowman, to one with ears strangely resembling a bunny. 

You had conned Spencer Reid, and made a bunny snowman. 

"How did this happen?" he mumbles, almost exasperated, as you grin proudly at the snow creation presented before him.

Mind you, he knew exactly how this happened. 

Your lips had found his in the short period of time between picking up the carrot and carrying it to put into the snowball head, and truly, he is unable to focus when you are that close to him. Which should not be held against him.

A gentle kiss that parted with the fog cloud of your two breaths mingling, the cold nipping at your lips, rendering him thoughtless and confused for half a second too long. That was when the carrot had disappeared. 

Then, as he was placing the pebbles over the lower half of the face for the snowman's smile, you had turned him around to face you, coaxing him in for another kiss that he — this time — had enough willpower to say no to. 

Your response was to shove a fistful of snow into the crook of his neck, encouraging a snow fight he had been trying to avoid this entire time. 

"You do know that smothering my neck and face in snow can cause frostbite. Or hypothermia. The cold can encourage heart attacks and—" You threw another snowball at him. 

"It's a snowball. It wont kill you."

Really, he should've picked up on your distraction techniques sooner. Usually, he did. You were easy enough to read once he had gotten to know you, and your antics were a regular enough occurrence that he could tell when you were in a specific mood. 

But still, you had deceived him, and he hadn't suspected a thing. 

"Do you like her?" you chirp from beside him, a large grin on your lips. 

"A snowman. We agreed on a regular snowman."

"It is a snowman," you protested, albeit weakly, staring at the crooked, bunny resembling pile of snow. "She's... unconventional."

"It's a bunny."

"But isn't she cute?" you press, staring up at him with widened eyes. "Say yes. Please say yes."

He huffs, his breath painting the cold air just past his lips. His resolve is seemingly incredibly easy to dissipate when you stare at him like that. "Yes. She's cute." 

You grin at his agreement, standing on your toes to peck his cheek. 

Though, he's quick to catch your waist and tug you closer, melting cold lips against your own. Out of shock and maybe too much glee, you laugh, and you feel him smile against your mouth. 

Fingers lift to your hair and thread through it, and you're grateful the two of you had decided to play with the snow in your backyard. You aren't sure if he'd kiss you like this out the front of your home. 

"Can we compromise and make another regular snowman?" you ask him, the second his lips part only a fraction from yours. 

He pauses, his eyes searching your face, inevitably for a hint of you trying to deceive him once more. Certain he finds none, he nods his head. "Yes. We can."

You happily smile back at him, your head turning to the side so you can look at your bunny snowman once again. "She's growing on you, though, right?"

"I guess," he turns his own head. "She kind of looks like you."

Your eyebrows furrow. "Oddly shaped and on a lean?"

"Cute," he clarifies with a laugh, locking eyes with you once more. "Be kinder to yourself."

"I am."

You're met with a pointed look, but he's an expert at picking his battles with you, for he sighs, then simply says, "Just start rolling more snow."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[unpopularly-opinionated]

Almost every week, for the last maybe 2-2 1/2 years or so, I (27) have been going out to different bars with the same group of people, all of whom are at least twice my age or more and I honestly couldn’t recommend it more for younger people.

I mean to get the bad aspects out of the way upfront, I did (and sometimes still do) have a minor insecurity about being the “annoying child of someone in the group that everyone has to pretend to tolerate”. My stepdad is the one who initiated the hangouts originally, and I initially was just tagging along for free food and booze. No one’s ever done anything to make me feel that way mind you, they are always SUPER accommodating, almost too much sometimes. Sometimes they’ll straight up change topics if they’ve noticed I checked out because I wasn’t interested in what they were talking about. It’s just my own irrational insecurity that crops up from time to time. I also struggle sometimes with explaining this friendship to other people, often referring to them as “my stepdad’s friends” even though we’ve been out together so many times that I could and should very reasonably consider them my friends too. Again, this is a me thing, nothing against them.

We started out doing it with a purpose, we were doing bar trivia every week and having a blast. But over time, we grew kinda bored of the trivia, the format kinda changed, and it started pretty late into the evening, and we ultimately just realized that we actually were just cool hanging out and chatting without needing to have an excuse to be there.

But being the youngest among them, I just find them very interesting to talk to. They’re always talking about their jobs, the good, the bad, and the ugly of them all. Most of them are managers of several people, and they’re the type of managers who care more about their employees than the businesses, so I always feel like I’m hearing a fair assessment of whether an employee is being completely insane, or if the company is screwing them over somehow, or what not. And just how the working world works from their perspective. Not to mention how they got to where they’re at. One went to college and has a masters, one went to college but dropped out and taught himself to code, another just worked his way up from the bottom to the top (yes, they all work in the tech industry lol).

This isn’t even mentioning the fact that my grandfather is there with us as well, and he’s retired now but he had been an electrician for 60+ years prior, and being the oldest of our group, he has like a whole extra generation’s worth of experience to add to the mix too. It’s really great because it kind of adds that extra layer that makes me feel more comfortable in the group (like yeah, I’m the clueless youth compared to most of these guys, but they’re all youths to him too).

I can’t really explain it too well, but I feel like I just absorb life experience by hanging out with this group of people. It’s not all just work talk either, they talk about their personal hobbies, trips they’ve been on or are going on, their kids, food, alcohol, sports, politics, lots of politics, social media nonsense, etc. No one ever gets worked up over things, even when talking politics.

TL;DR: I recommend befriending people much older than yourself. It’s not creepy or weird, and you could learn a lot, even if you might not think so. Just sitting there and absorbing it all I think would benefit a lot of younger people.

I need you people to realize that you can be friends with people older than you. like, much older than you. like, decades older than you. you can be friends with these people. regular friends, just like anyone your age. it is possible.

[legalmente-loca]

A Car For Christmas

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: Dean doesn't seem to want to be there for Christmas, but it seems that it was quite the opposite

Word Count: 984

A/N: Merry Christmas and Merry Holydays, everyone! This is my @spnfanficpond Secret Santa gift for @spnbabe67! I hope you like it and let me know!

Tags/Warnings: 18+, smut, angst, sex in a car, Christmas is here, established relationship

“I just don’t understand why you don’t want to celebrate Christmas. You’ve always wanted to.”

“We have a hunt, I’ve told you.” He said as he packed his things into his bag.

“I know, but… Dean,” You held his arm. “It’s Christmas…”

He sighed and turned to look at you.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You shook your head.

“No, you’re not.”

He frowned and turned his body towards you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What you heard. It seems like you’d rather hunt a creature that any other lone hunter could than spend Christmas with your brother and me.”

He stared at you and you noticed his jaw tense.

“That’s not true.” He murmured.

“Then prove it.” You looked at him pleadingly in the eyes. “Stay.”

He sighed and shook his head. He wasn’t going to stay.

“I’m sorry, really.”

He walked past you, leaving a kiss on your head before leaving.

A week had already passed, today was Christmas, and you were alone in the bunker. The tree you had decorated with the boys seemed dull, lifeless from the absence of the place.

You had been stirring the coffee in front of you for about twenty minutes. The energy you had been saving for this day was nowhere to be found. But a noise made you raise your head.

Maybe it had just been a normal noise in a bunker that was years old, but you got up anyway and followed the noise.

“Damn… Thing...” You heard a growl coming from the room you shared with Dean.

You peeked through the door and looked in confusion at the back of a man as he fixed something on the bed.

“Dean?”

He turned around in surprise and ran a hand through his hair.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

You raised an eyebrow and tried to look behind him.

“What are you doing here? And the hunt?” You asked as you walked towards him.

But he stood in your way, his hands on your arms.

“Well, you said it yourself, sweetheart. It’s Christmas.”

“What’s that back there?” You tried to look behind his shoulder again.

“Hey, hey.” He laughed nervously. “It’s nothing. Why don’t you go to the library for a while?”

“What’s that back there?” You repeated.

“Nothing, nothing.”

Dean tried to move you back, but you managed to get out of his grip and walk past him, seeing what was behind him.

It was a half wrapped box.

You heard him sigh behind you.

“It was supposed to be your Christmas present. But I realized I’m really bad at wrapping these things.”

You turned to look at him slowly, a smile making its way onto your face. Suddenly, you jumped on him, Dean immediately holding you up as you placed kisses all over his face.

“Whoa, hey, hey!” He looked surprised. “You haven’t even opened your present yet.”

You got off of him as you laughed.

“Okay, okay.” You said as you turned around and began to open the box.

When you opened it, you noticed a video tape. You took it and read what was written on it. The Best Lana Del Rey Songs.

You shook your head in amusement.

“Now I can listen to Lana del Rey in your car.”

“Or yours.”

You turned to look at him and he was holding up car keys.

“No… You didn’t.”

“Oh, yes, I did.” He nodded. “I built you a car.”

“Oh, my God…” You slowly placed the tape on the bed. “I can’t believe it.”

“I can show you, doll.”

He took your hand and grabbed the tape before leaving the room. He led you through the bunker until you reached the garage.

You let out a gasp of amazement as you saw a red car next to his Impala.

“Oh, my God, Dean.” You jumped up and down in joy as you walked over to your new car. “You did it? By yourself?”

“Of course I did.” He walked over to stand beside you. “You like it?”

“Do I? It’s the best Christmas present anyone’s ever given me.”

Dean obviously liked that comment. A smile appeared on his face. He really had tried hard to give you a good present.

“You know?” You bit your bottom lip, running a finger down your car before looking at Dean. “I think we should get it new.”

Dean’s mind was working in such a way that he understood your double meaning.

“Oh, I think so too, sweetheart.” He said as he left the tape on top of the car.

He didn’t even wait two seconds as he held you. You wrapped your legs around his hips and he opened the back door of the car, climbing in with you and leaving you on the seat face up. Your clothes quickly came off of your bodies.

“Baby, we'll get this car dirty before you even drive it.”

He entered you and you moaned loudly, your nails digging into his back and earning a growl from him as he started a steady pace, gaining satisfaction from checking out your expressions of pleasure. He buried his head in your neck and began nibbling on your skin.

“God, Dean, harder.”

He picked up speed, the car windows thickening as it swayed in rhythm with Dean’s thrusts.

“Merry fucking Christmas to me.” He mumbled as he pushed you deeper into the seat.

The car seats were starting to get damp beneath you in a mix of sweat and cum.

“You feel so good, Dean.” You sighed.

“Yeah? You like my cock in your pussy, baby?”

“Yes, I do.” You whimpered.

Your eyes rolled and you clenched around him as you came, sending him straight into his own orgasm and leaving his seed inside you, which slowly began to leak out and spread across the seats.

“God…” He huffed. “Merry Christmas, baby.” Dean whispered in your ear before placing a kiss there.

“Merry Christmas…”

Dean Winchester One Shots

Dean Winchester Masterlist

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[cheeseceli]

Under the mistletoe

Pairing: Yang Jeongin × Gn!reader

Genre: fluff, friends to lovers

Warnings: reader is lowkey oblivious but not really, that's it?

A/n: so this is my Christmas post 🙂‍↕️

Daily click

"Questions can be saved for later, just follow me" with that, you had absolutely no chance to talk back as he was already walking away, expecting you to actually follow him.

You were at the boys' Christmas party, celebrating the holiday with your closest friends - including Jeongin - but this specific person seemed to have other plans. Ever since he laid his eyes on you, he had been trying to get you to talk to him alone and, preferably, outside. Now, he was succeeding.

"What are we going to do on the balcony?" you asked, trying to keep up with his pace "It's freezing out there."

"I said no questions for now. Just trust me, okay?"

Once again you weren't able to respond, as he was already opening the door for you: "after you."

And so you did. Outside, it was in fact cold, snow slowly falling down. When you looked at Jeongin you expected to see him either shivering because of the weather or with a mischievous grin, that would explain the reason as to why you're far from the party. However, you notice him nervous.

That's odd.

"Jeongin? Are you okay?"

He seems to be lost in thought, his gaze nowhere near where you were, looking up instead.

"Yeah, yeah." Basically a synonym to no.

"Are we here for a reason...? You seem to be a little-"

"Oh yes, actually" he replied rather quickly, walking to the spot he was looking at before "Come here, there's something I want to show you."

You followed his lead, getting closer to the view. Though he wasn't looking ahead, so you didn't know if that was what he truly wanted to show you, you couldn't help but be awestruck. You had seen that scenario a few times before, every time you visited the boys' dorm, but never had it felt so magical.

"Is that what you wanted to show me?" You slowly look at him, your eyes not wanting to leave the beautiful sight ahead of you "it's beautiful."

"I mean, that as well." He looked up quickly, and you almost didn't realise this small gesture "but there was this other thing..."

As his voice died out, you looked above only to finally notice what this all was about:

"The mistletoe" you smiled. He was waiting for you to see it. You look at him, his eyes not exactly meeting yours just yet "What? You brought me here and aren't even going to kiss me?"

With this last statement he finally looked at you, a bit of excitement and hope shining on his eyes. Your smile didn't seem to falter anytime soon, as it was growing even more with his reaction.

"Can I?" he quietly said, afraid of doing anything that could ruin the moment.

You smile, barely believing it. You had been waiting ages for something like this: any opportunity, any moment that would give you the chance of becoming something more with Jeongin. And then he, during the holiday season, simply makes a whole plan to give you that chance.

It was adorable, to be honest. How he was so determined to bring you under the mistletoe, but still let you silently know that whatever you wanna do from now on is up to you. He's letting you choose. And no matter when, either on Christmas or on any other normal day, you would always choose him. And so you did:

"We cannot break a tradition, can we?"

Masterlist I you'll probably like: Christmas with skz

Reminder this is just fiction!! I'm not trying to portray real life and you shouldn't believe that this is how the member actually is. This is just for the vibe and the delulu!

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @dandelions-143 @sleepyleeji @jinnie-ret @sheraayasherrecs @rockstarkkami @urlocalmultigroupfan (couldn't tag in bold)

Divider by: @enchanthings-a | Images 1, 2 and 3

[chunibyo-x-sorcerer]

Daichi is ready to fight until Eito chirps, letting him know that the spirit, or rather spirits are not hostile. The flame sorcerer lowers his hands.

"Hold on! You're...on the posters. The missing kids!" Daichi said. The children nodded before the boy speaks,

'Ummmm.....please don't be scared.....we....we wanted to say something before we went to rest for the last time......' the boy said but he saw the other kids looking at them.

'We...We wanna say thank you again..for setting us free. It was scary after that meanie...did to us but...we are all now free and being watched over by Mr. Choko. He said we would find you guys here....to say thank you...'

Daichi blinks to which Eito tweets. "I see. I'm glad Mr. Choko is there for you guys." He smiles.

'Though...we...he said we will be taking a long nap and maybe go to a better place after....we all can't wait to go somewhere new....but....a good nap does feel nice.....' he said before hugging his plushie.

'We even said sorry to your friends.....we didn't mean to cause trouble for you all....we were scared...but we are sorry for it..' a little girl said hiding behind the boy. 'We hope you can forgive us for scaring and hurting any of you....we didn't mean to. That's why we are saying sorry to you to show we didn't mean it. I just hope we didn't scare the others...though, the pink haired man with tattoos on his face was really nice. He was even kind to read us a story when we visited a few hours ago..'

Pink-haired guy with tattoos. Wait...Sukuna?!

"And there's a lady with tattoos as well. She plays tag with us with her big cat wolves ." That sounds like Kinie Ger. "She told us to talk to you guys in your dreams so that way you will stop having bad dreams about what happened." Said the boy as the kids nodded with a smile.. But then the boy turns sad, "Though...I did see my parents but I want to see them one more time before I go.."

Daichi kneels down hearing this, "I will tell your parents..." He said as he went to pat on the Zilla plushie, "Thank you for coming here and telling us that. I-" He has no words what to say to them. "You didn't scare us. We were scared but not because of you. We were scared of the bad things that meaning was doing." He said, referring Meko to as the meanie. "Now it's over, your nightmare is over." He said. "That said, thank you." Daichi smiles. "I think that place you're going to is going to be better place than here."

"Yeah, what's up?" Daichi looks over to see something. Eito tweets as he notices this too. He looks over to see the Zilla plushie that looks pretty old and it was set down.

"Uh...did I bring a Zilla plushie here by accident? I think I did, right?" He asked Megumi. Eito tweets. "Wait...are you saying there's something with Zilla and there is some cursed energy in it?"

"..I..don't think you did. Didn't they give you guys new ones?" Megumi said remembering.

Then he blinks to see Zilla tilt his head, "What is that?"

The Zilla plushie didn't move before some energy was showing around and growing now. Megumi was about to summon the rabbits to stop whoever it was. Maybe a curse was lingering around them. Was it a danger?! However, he got his answer seeing a little boy. It seems to be holding the Zilla plush but he saw the Rabbits to bend down looking at them. The Rabbits blinks looking at the spirit before the little boy waves at them.

".....Wait....isn't that one of the kids?" Megumi asked but saw the boy look at Megumi and Kisho while hugging the Plush. That's when a few more shows up showing the other kids. Some boys and girls.

"?!?"

'Ummmm.....please don't be scared.....we....we wanted to say something before we went to rest for the last time......' the boy said but he saw the other kids looking at them.

'We...We wanna say thank you again..for setting us free. It was scary after that meanie...did to us but...we are all now free and being watched over by Mr. Choko. He said we would find you guys here....to say thank you...' he said softly. His brown eyes were dull but the others were nervous.

'Though...we...he said we will be taking a long nap and maybe go to a better place after....we all can't wait to go somewhere new....but....a good nap does feel nice.....' he said before hugging his plushie.

'We even said sorry to your friends.....we didn't mean to cause trouble for you all....we were scared...but we are sorry for it..' a little girl said hiding behind the boy. 'We hope you can forgive us for scaring and hurting any of you....we didn't mean to. That's why we are saying sorry to you to show we didn't mean it. I just hope we didn't scare the others...though, the pink haired man with tattoos on his face was really nice. He was even kind to read us a story when we visited a few hours ago..' she said speaking of Sukuna.

[cjlouwho]

Twelve Christmases

chapter tags: discussions of a burn victim (nothing graphic), discussions of suicide and mental health, very brief mentions of things that happened in past chapters (Tommy's mom, military, red handkerchief, implied noncon), anxiety, depression, background character death, Tommy calls the crisis hotline

read below or on ao3

Day 10: 2022

“I'm calling Roberts in early, you can go home.”

“Captain Marks-”

“No, Kinard! What you did out there was careless. You could've gotten yourself killed.”

“And if I'd done nothing, that man would be dead.”

“He's gonna wish he were dead if he ever wakes up! He's got third degree burns on over seventy percent of his body! I don't mean to be harsh, Tommy, but you risked your life for a dead man walking!”

“So?” 

Marks took a deep breath, sitting back in his chair. “I'm gonna pretend I didn't just hear you say that. I know emotions are high right now, but you know as well as I do I can't have a pilot that isn't concerned about whether they live or die.”

“That's not-”

“Stop talking, Kinard,” Marks warned. “You're on the ground for five shifts, I'll reevaluate things myself after that. If I have any hesitation, for even a moment, about your intentions here, you're getting a psych eval. That'll put you on the ground forever. You understand me?”

Tommy pursed his lips, nodding his head. “I understand.”

“Good. Now, go home, enjoy the rest of your Christmas, come back next shift with a clear head.”

*****

By the time Tommy got home, it was nearing ten o'clock at night. His brain was a jumbled mess. It didn't seem to matter how many times he hit the punching bag in his garage, it was never enough.

After a quick shower, he thought about laying down.

But even the idea of that made him want to crawl out of his skin.

So, he began to pace.

He paced, and paced, and paced, with his hands on his hips. From the living room, to the kitchen, down the hall, and back again.

It all felt like too much. He wasn't just thinking about today. He was thinking about his mom. He was thinking about the military. He was thinking about the red handkerchief. He was thinking about waking up in a stranger's apartment with no clue what happened the night before.

He was thinking, thinking, thinking, pacing, pacing, pacing, and he needed it all to stop.

Just stop!

So he did something he never thought he'd do.

He wasn't even sure what made him do it.

All he remembered was pulling his phone out of his pocket and dialing the number.

988.

“988 crisis lifeline, this is Penny. How can I help you today?”

He froze.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

He swallowed. Closed his eyes.

“I'm here.”

“Oh, good. May I ask who I'm speaking with?”

“Tommy,” no attempt to try for a fake name.

“Hi, Tommy! I'm Penny. I know I said it before, but I like to make sure the people I speak to heard me. Tommy, ca-”

“I'm not... I don't wanna kill myself,” Tommy interrupted, needing to make it clear. “I just needed someone to talk to.”

“Okay.” Her voice was soothing, familiar almost. A voice that Tommy hadn't heard in years. “That's what I'm here for, Tommy. What's on your mind?”

He tried to think of what to say. Tried to figure out the perfect way to start the conversation.

He was usually so put together.

But everything felt off.

“I hate Christmas.”

He wasn't sure why that was the first thing that popped into his brain at this moment, but it was out there now.

“A lot of people have complex feelings about holidays. It can be tough sometimes, no doubt about it.”

The tiny admission seemed to open a floodgate for Tommy. “My mom was thirty-eight when she died, and I'm thirty-eight now,” he explained. He was sure the words coming out of his mouth were just as jumbled as the thoughts in his head. “And she- she didn't die around Christmas. She actually died in June, so I don't know why I keep thinking about her today of all days, but I do. Not just her; I'm thinking about a lot of things. But it all sort of leads back to her at the end, I guess.”

“Was Christmas important to her?” Penny asked.

“She loved it when I was really little. Always liked looking at the lights and taking me to the mall to pick out things I wanted. I think my dad ruined Christmas for her though.”

“He wasn't big on the holiday?”

“He wasn't big on family. Looking back, I can see how being with him changed her. I didn't recognize it back then.”

“You were young. She probably didn't want you to recognize it.”

Tommy sighed, giving himself a moment to gather his thoughts. “She didn't get thirty-nine Christmases, you know? And that doesn't really seem fair. Because I'm here for my thirty-ninth Christmas and I don't even like the damn day. She deserved more. She deserved better.”

“It's never easy to understand why the people we love get taken from us too soon. It can be especially difficult when we lose them as a child.”

Tommy let out a humorless laugh. “She didn't get taken from me,” he bit out, “she left me.”

There was a pause on the line, then, “I'm sorry?”

“Yeah, she uh, she made that choice to leave herself. Stuck me with my dad, who never really gave a crap about me in the first place, and she... she was just gone.”

“I'm sorry about that, Tommy. That's a lot to have to deal with as a kid.”

“I don't ever talk about it, about her. I don't really have anyone to talk about it with. My dad never cared for emotions, so I just plaster a smile on my face and put my shoulders back and keep going.” Tommy shook his head, clearing his throat and wiping away the tears that were pooling in his eyes. “That's not why I called though. Not because of her.”

“Okay,” Penny replied. “Tell me why you called, Tommy.”

Tommy rolled his shoulders, trying to rid himself of some of the tension running through his body. “I did something stupid at work today, and I knew better. I just didn't care.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“I work for the fire department. I'm a firefighter pilot, but today I was on the ground. We were called to a fire at this house- well, more like a mansion- and we thought we had the place cleared. Then the daughter started yelling for her dad. I headed back inside and found him, um,” Tommy paused, taking in a shaky breath.

“It's okay, Tommy. Take your time.”

“He- He was at the source of the fire. A fairly large space heater exploded and the fire had spread quickly. The house was about to collapse, and I was being told to get out, but I stayed. Long story short, I was able to get the man out right before the structure collapsed. He was severely burned though. If he makes it, and it's a big if, he's going to wish he hadn't. My captain won't let me fly for a while now. Sent me home early.” He let out a humorless laugh. “I wasn't even supposed to work today. I took the shift because I hate this damn holiday.”

“You've mentioned that three times now,” Penny noted.

“What?”

“How much you dislike Christmas. Tommy, do you think that maybe the risk you took today had something to do with the fact it's Christmas? Emotions were already high, making you take risks you wouldn't usually take?”

“Hm,” Tommy hummed. “Maybe? I don't really know though, because I feel like I'm ready to take those same risks any day, anytime. I said it before, and I meant it, I'm not trying to die. I just... I don't think I care if I do. It didn't matter to me if I didn't make it out. We're all gonna die someday, you know? That's what I always figure. What's it matter if it's now?”

“I think it would matter to the people who love you. The people who care about you.”

“I don't think I know anyone well enough for them to be affected by my death.”

“Well, it would matter to me,” Penny replied matter-of-factly, and Tommy couldn't help but let out a laugh.

“I dunno, I can be kind of a bitch sometimes.”

“Thank God for that, I'd hate it if you were too perfect.”

“Well, I never said I wasn't perfect. Perfect and bitch can go together, right?”

“I think it's a great pairing.”

A smile lingered on Tommy's face. He couldn't remember the last time he spoke to someone so openly. “Penny?”

“I'm here.”

“Would you stay on the phone with me until Christmas is over?”

“Honey,” she answered, Tommy softening at the name, “I can honestly say there's nowhere else I'd rather be.”

Penny stayed on the phone with him until 12:01. She was willing to stay on the line longer, but by the time Tommy had watched the clock strike midnight, he was ready to go to bed.

He felt better. A little lighter than he had in a while.

He'd been in bed for about fifteen minutes, and was just dozing off when his phone buzzed.

It was Captain Marks.

The man from the house fire died on the operating table.

I know you wanted to save him, Tommy.

Unfortunately we can't save them all.

Tommy stared at the texts for a good ten minutes before switching over to the phone app and dialing 988 again.

[mattsbows]

nurse!reader. . .is comforted by matt after losing a patient ♡

as soon as you stepped through the front door of your and matt's shared home, you tossed your belongings to the side, sliding down the door until you were crumpled in a small ball, sobs wracking your chest.

you knew matt was somewhere in the house, but right now, you didn't have it in you to care. losing patients was part of your job; you'd known that since you first hit the "apply" button for nursing school. but that didn't mean that it didn't destroy you when lost one, especially working in a children's hospital. you were so caught in your emotions that you didn't even hear matt enter the foyer, his soft voice tainted with worry.

"sweetheart? what's going on?" matt asked, kneeling down to be at your level.

you said nothing, opting to crawl into his arms. your tears began to soak through matt's soft, black shirt, leaving a wet patch in your wake. your partner said nothing, simply rubbing your back and humming softly to you. matt knew you'd talk when you were ready.

"i...i lost one today." you mumbled after a few minutes, your voice weak and shaky.

"oh baby," matt sighed gently, kissing your head. "i'm so sorry, darlin'."

"it's not fair!" you sobbed. "she was so young. she was only three, matt."

"i know, honey. it's not fair at all, is it?"

"her heart transplant didn't work."

matt felt his heart twinge with sympathy, unable to imagine a parent losing their child that young. "i'm so sorry, baby. but you know what?" he asked, tilting your chin to look into your teary eyes.

"hmm?" you asked, nose runny.

"she got to spend the last of her time on earth feeling so, so loved because she had the best nurse in the world."

"but i couldn't do anything. i could've saved her." you mumbled.

"baby," matt said gently. "you are the best nurse and the smartest girl i've ever met. i know she felt so loved. sometimes the universe has plans that don't make sense, but i know you did everything you could."

you nodded softly, your tears beginning to slow. "yeah."

"she's always gonna be looking out for you, baby. i know she loves you and is so grateful for you."

you nodded at matt's statement, resting your head against his strong chest. "thank you. i needed that, i think."

"you're welcome, sweetheart," matt kissed your forehead softly. "if you want to, we can do something to honor her soon, yeah?"

your heart practically swelled at just how kind matt was. he had never even met the little girl, yet here he was wanting to honor her. you had never met such a loving, genuine man in all your life. but then again, matt was one of a kind.

a note from the author: i hope you all enjoyed! i know this blurb was a bit heavier, so if you need support, my inbox/dms are open<3

❁ tags: @mattsdemi @purpledragon222 @slxtarchive @natashad0627 @quinnysnursery @tyummyz @colorthecosmos444 @lockettesroom @mattyblover07 @marrykisskilled @beautyloves @nicksbestie

[entitled-fangirl]

Patiently wait.

Ragnar Lothbrok x wife!reader

Summary: Ragnar is soon leaving with Bjorn for the annual meet with the Earl. Based on S1 E1.

Warnings: making out, sexual comment

A/n: Farmer Ragnar is so peak

Masterlist

.......................................

"Do not ruin my boy," Y/n warned her husband, half a joke, half serious.

Ragnar grinned and ran his hand through Bjorn's hair. "I would never." The twinkle in his eye said differently. 

"I mean it," she warned again. 

His head lulled to the side. "You worry too much." He stepped to her and cupped her face, laying a heavy kiss on her lips. Now close, he could lower his voice. "I can think of something to help that." 

When his head ducked down to kiss her neck, she playfully pushed him away. "Not now." Ragnar tried again, succeeding a little further this time. His hands gripped her hips. She giggled, "Ragnar!"

"Can I not love my wife?" He teased, his lips brushing just under her jaw.

"I am still here," Bjorn grumbled.

"And you can go outside if you hate it so much," Ragnar offered over his shoulder. 

"Wait, Bjorn-" his mother tried but he was gone. She patted Ragnar's chest. "Perfect. And now he is angry."

"He is a boy," Ragnar shrugged. "Boys are mad at everything." His tease didn't last long, as he made an attempt to once again kiss her neck.

She let him for a while, tipping her head up to give him space. His hand wandered up her body slowly until it came up to her cheek. His kisses ventured higher until they came to the corner of her lips. 

He kissed her deeply. It pulled a groan from her, and she pulled him closer by his hips. Ragnar's kisses were all-consuming. They were weighted and soaked attention in. His tongue delved into her mouth, beginning to explore like he so often did.

She pulled back and his lips chased hers, though they didn't connect again. "Ragnar."

His head tilted back in acknowledgment, though his eyes focused on her lips.

"Promise me you'll care for him. For Bjorn. He's my boy. Don't let him see executions..." Her eyes roamed the room, "and... and no public examples-"

"-What kind of father do you take me for?" He whispered with a cheeky grin.

"Ragnar."

He held a hand up in surrender. "Alright." His eyes took her in from head to toe. "He's my boy too."

"He has a gentle heart, Ragnar Lothbrok."

His head tilted down as he looked at her through his lashes. "I will guard him with my life. You know that."

"I do." She leaned into his chest and trailed a hand up his face and to his hair, tracing the braids at the top of his head. She knew the patterns by heart at this point. "I'm just not ready for him to be a man yet."

"It all comes in time."

"Doesn't mean I like it," she whispered, bearing her soul to her husband.

He cupped her cheek with one hand, running his fingers through her hair with the other. "It's only a little while. He will still be your boy when he comes back."

She sighed. "And you?"

He smiled. A grin from Ragnar is like having your every thought known inside and out. He leaned in, brushing his lips with hers. "I always come back. Don't I, my love?"

"Always."

"Yeah. Always." 

Another kiss.

She'd patiently wait for their return, each day feeling like a lifetime.

.............................................

I'll make a tag list for Vikings stuff if anyone wants!

[potpigu]

Wahoo I get to join in something fun again :D thx @kosmas-posts (Though I think I may have already joined .>. soguanufjds I mean some of my answers changed.)

Last song:Flowers by Miley Cyrus

favorite colour: colours found in crayon boxes.

Last book:I don't even remember :0 (But for finished books then fourth wing, but that book wasn't my jam I have no idea how I powered through it...)

Last movie: fnaf movie :)

Last show:Digital circus

sweet/spicy/savoury:Sweet and savoury (never ever gonna survive spicy😔)

relationship statues:Single Pringle :D👍

Last thing googled :Bored button (probably should do that more often instead of asking to draw others ocs only for it to take forever cus I procrastinate tooo muuuuuchhhh.....)

Current obssesstion :art in general, my ocs (Always gonna be bias for my goobers), others ocs (What can I say there fun to think about time to time), trying to learn a different language in general even though that shits never gonna work since I forget a lot of the important things and hell talking is going to suck with how shitty I talk in English lol, Not much obsession for anything else recently though .

looking forward to : Any fun game that catches my interest (Like there is one but I didn't realize trying to download the game would be so hard- I should probably look for a play through, others ocs (There all silly fucked up goobers, All of them!),FINISHING THE AMOUNT OF THINGS I SAID "YA I'LL DRAW THAT!" Like I know there's no need to pressure myself cus it's free but I think I get to be pissed over myself for taking so long even if the holidays are the only time I got a chance to even start >:[ damn why does time have to go by so fast?

no pressure tags :D (Sorry if it turns out ya'll did this already cus honestly I forgot, so not that many tags this time) @elysiiawrites @kitab00m101 @girlwholikestodrawalot @sheepyphi @zithergiltscorner

Ten People I’d Like to Get to Know Better

tagged by: @orphiclovers

last song: It’s all been Christmas retail crap or if you count the radio on the drive home playing Avril Lavigne

fav color: this pale seafoam green for things or white for clothes

last book: Eclipse by Wilder (poetry)

last movie: Deadpool & Wolverine

last show: N/A

sweet/spicy/savory: sweet and savory 

relationship status: 4 people proposed to me this year. 1 meant it fr 🥹 (engaged irl) otherwise I have a harem on AO3 going.

last thing i googled: how big is a wintermelon?

current obsession: cooking and Infinity Nikki

looking forward to: I’m planning a road trip with the girls later this week!!

Tagging: @auuwmk, @ssunfish, @ajhaijma, @stoneclaw, @quiteboared, @kiwiandmint, @dgeneralacc, @rex44201, @readingdreaming4951, @thottykunikida

[steddieas-shegoes]

still believe

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'santa'

all of my holiday drabbles will be from the bear hugs universe. many of them could probably be read standalone, but will make the most sense and be enjoyed best if you read that first!

rated g | 985 words | no cw | tags: established relationship, mall santa, fluff

🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻

The line is wrapped around the building, which is exactly what Steve warned him about.

Steve insisted they go the first week that Santa was at the mall, but Eddie insisted they wait. It didn’t feel right to see Santa before December even started.

Then they got so busy with hockey practices and the baby and-

“How much longer?” Rory asks. She isn’t quite groaning yet, but Eddie knows she doesn’t have much more patience.

Steve is bouncing Sawyer in his arms, raising his brows at Eddie. The I told you so doesn’t need to be said out loud for him to know that’s what he’s thinking.

He tried to time it perfectly between Steve getting off of work, Sawyer’s next feeding time, and their own dinner time, but now…

They’re looking at a catastrophic failure on his part.

Sawyer’s only four months old, and he’s on a very strict schedule. He’s a perfect baby, sleeps almost entirely through the night, only cries when he needs to be changed, and loves when Rory holds him. But if he doesn’t eat on time? Everyone suffers.

They have at least an hour in this line still and they have roughly 20 minutes before Sawyer’s due for a bottle. They have them in the diaper bag, of course, enough formula already measured out for two bottles and a bottle of water just in case.

“Can’t we go to another Santa?” She asks when no one answers her.

“What do you mean? This is the only Santa.” Steve stops bouncing as he speaks, and Eddie feels sweaty all of a sudden. They both thought Rory still believed in Santa. Sure, she was a little old for it, but last year she’d gotten into a fight with a kid at school because she still believed.

“Dad.” Rory gives him one of her be serious looks. “Every mall has one. The real Santa has to stay in the North Pole.”

Steve’s shoulders relax, but Eddie feels another moment of panic. Rory does still believe in Santa. It’s fine, it’s actually great. But a small part of him hoped that maybe she’d just casually stopped believing. Maybe then it would be easier for Steve to accept that their little girl isn’t so little anymore.

“Right,” Steve smiles at her. “But we’re already in line here, so we should just stay.”

Rory sighs, but doesn’t argue.

Sawyer coos in Steve’s arms. Steve smiles down at him and bounces him again.

“You can’t wait to meet Santa, huh buddy?” Steve asks him.

Sawyer’s way too young to understand what he’s asking, but he still gives a gummy smile. He’s got Chrissy’s nose, but it’s a perfect combination with Eddie’s everything else. They all joked that Eddie might as well have carried and birthed him for how much he looks like him already.

“Does Santa already know that Sawyer’s been good?” Rory asks.

“Babies are always on the nice list until they can walk and talk. Then, they have to behave just like all the bigger kids,” Steve explains. “Santa already knows Sawyer’s good.”

“But what if Sawyer was bad?”

“Well, do you think he’s been bad?” Eddie asks, taking Sawyer from Steve to give him a break.

“He did puke on my shirt last week,” Rory’s face twists with disgust. “And he pooped through his diaper that one time and it got on the car seat.”

Eddie’s doing his best not to laugh. “Those are accidents, though. It doesn’t make him a bad kid.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Rory sighs. She looks around the people in front of them as they take a few steps forward. “Maybe we can skip Santa this year? Since he knows we’ve both been good.”

Steve shakes his head. “We wanted to get a family picture, remember?”

“But it’s not even the real Santa!” Rory exclaims, loud enough that the people in front of them turn and scowl at them. Steve sends them an apologetic look and kneels down so he can get on Rory’s level.

“Listen green bean, you remember when you were really little and thought this was the real Santa?” She nods. “A lot of these kids still think that and we can’t ruin it for them. Plus, they’re handing out candy canes, look!”

One of the employees dressed as an elf is walking down the line offering candy canes. A perfect distraction for kids growing impatient in line.

Sawyer gurgles and then lets out a tiny whine. Eddie checks the time on the phone and gives Steve a look.

Steve wordlessly opens the diaper bag to get the bottle ready and Rory rocks on her feet as she waits for the elf to bring her a candy cane. Eddie pokes at Sawyer’s cheek, and his tummy, and his arm, making him let out little bursts of noises that are nearly giggles.

“Not too much longer,” Eddie whispers to the baby in his arms, hopeful that he’s right.

****

Nearly an hour later, they have Sawyer propped in Santa’s lap and Rory standing next to him, talking a mile a minute about her list. They manage to get a great picture– a small miracle considering Sawyer was due for a nap– and head out, not wanting to hold up the line more than it already has been.

As they leave, Rory tugs on Eddie’s jacket and comes to a stop. Steve is too busy babbling at Sawyer to notice.

“Daddy, I lied,” she says and Eddie’s gut clenches. “I know Santa isn’t real. But dad loves Christmas and it would hurt his feelings. And now Sawyer can believe in Santa so I have to pretend.”

Eddie loves this girl. She has always been wise beyond her years, which is why her believing in Santa at this age seemed ludicrous to him.

He hugs her tight and kisses the top of her head. “You’re a good kid, little one.”

[chimggukchim]

https://www.tumblr.com/chimggukchim/770049627903901696/but-it-will-not-and-cannot-be-what-it-was-before?source=share

First thing first i saw another anon say this anon is a tkkr who's sneaking in jkk space when i can very well tell anon is just a jkkr who has seen difference in jikook over the chapt2 era. Just because one jkkr doesn't agree with another doesn't mean they HAVE to be from another ship. And Tkkrs don't talk about jkk the way anon talked because it's hard for Tkkrs to even address the things jkk did together Especially GCFT so anon is definitely not a tkkr.

Second idk in which spaces YOU were because the whole jikook tag was clogged with very much negativity during AYS Especially after 1st,2nd ep because everyone was Feeling the difference in the way jk talked to anon because we have never seen them bicker this much after their debut self. over these past few yrs we have seen them very much be sweet towards e/o and not really bicker atleast not to the level of AYS and it was maybe because we never had full hrs of just jkk only so we're seeing their raw self so maybe jkk have been this way towards e/o for long time but we just never got to witness it before and hence why it was kinda shocking for many jkkrs and yes there was very much negativity. talking about how jk said "Jimin is dead" and laughed when jm was sick because some jkkrs didn't like that because they haven't seen jk talk like that etc etc. If you need @ of the blogs who's seen this negativity ask me and I'll definitely provide it in next ask (I'm not doing in this one because I don't wanna disclose their @ to other anons who might attack them).

Yes the 1st ep looked awkward maybe because they haven't hangout together for some time and when they're doing they're in front of cam so they don't know how to act, It happens when you're meeting s/o after some time and haven't exactly planned things you're doing or you haven't thought it thoroughly. They Started loosening up at the end of 2nd ep. And if anyone talks about their physical closeness as why would they be close like that when they are awkward then ITS taekook is good example of that why or how.

anon didn't lie when they said that jk didn't bother showing up for jm anywhere because that's true. he was at hybe for CK most probably saw jm is practicing stopped there and went home exactly like how he showed up at one of hobi's filming during JITB because the set was in hybe. That time jm specifically asked jk to come to show support to him more and jungkook didn't come again. we saw jm's practice BB and jk wasn't there again and when jk asked when was jm's next music show jm also told him that jk has already seen his dance during practice so it's normal to assume the practice was last one. yes he might have came for another practice but given we haven't seen I'll chose not to make up that "he came to the practice again" because if everyone just start assuming things with nothing to back up there's no difference them and Tkkrs.You remembered what jm said what during serendipity recording then how did you forgot what jm said During festa 2022 when jk was whinning about jm not showing him his songs along with other members?? let me tell you jm said "Well i told you, asked you all to come and see me work" so didn't jm give open invitation here to ALL members including jk? so did he go or not? i guess not if we go by the whinning he was doing over jm not showing him his song, we have also seen jk watching jm doing filter practice so I'm sure coming again for jm's other practices or MV sets to "show support" shouldn't be so hard given jk went to dream movie premiere, and a musical of tae's frnds to show support or wtv it was. plus given how jk traveled to Hawaii when tae said he missed jk so the hybe building (hobi saw jm there working as well so the pdogg house wasn't the only place jm worked) and before you wonder how new i am it's my 5th year in the Fandom. not as old as you but old enough to have known all of their contents.

Jimin talked about him talking with jk about music for hrs and said that he'd tell jk what he learned so i think he was talking about the time AFTER they shot in NYC for AYS. jm talked about going to vocal lessons when he was working on muse(in his live) so I'm assuming he talked with jk about music after NYC trip where he also heard "Who" for the very first time. my personal assumption which I'm pretty sure of is that jk wasn't aware of what's going on with jm when he was working on FACE and the live jk did after face dropped was him just catching up with what's jm doing. I mean he didn't even know when jm was doing his music shows etc etc. my personal assumption tho.

There's no need for jkk to lie to us and say "you didn't call me when i was free and i didn't call you when u were free" because they simply could have not said anything rather than lying. I'm definitely not a tkkr who spin their words to fit my narative so I'll take things as it is said to us when I don't see any reason for them to lie to us.

Yes having e/o in military is a comfort for them but I'll ask u if u get an option of enlisting alone OR u can Enlist with ur friend whom you know for a decade now what option would u chose? won't u wanna go with ur frnd if U actually have an option? given the status they have it's obvious more comfort for them that they have their frnd with them so I believe any normal human would chose to go with their frnd than alone with given option. and jkk do have visible tattoes so they obviously have limited options that don't mean they have to go with e/o BUT why not go with ur frnd than go alone? it's very natural doens't have to be "they can't live w/o e/o".

And just like Taekook changed jikook changed as well. many have hard time beliveing it but that's what how atleast some of us see it. have some points to add for this topic as why but it's already too long so I'll stop.

Thank you, anon, for the oh so detailed read.

And for also proving my point that some people on here actually believe that the only times jikook have ever interacted in their entire lives is when they film content for us.

Bravo!

I was going to just leave it at that but I've got some time so why not write more?

Anon not being a tkkr? Yeah, okay. It is true that not all jikookers have the same opinion. Some support, some simply ship and can become very insecure because they don't actually see jikook as two actual people in an actual relationship. But I actually have working braincells and can very easily spot tkkr rhetoric as opposed to insecure jikooker rhetoric. Anon was a tkkr clearly trying to gaslight. I can actually point out very specific phrases used if you'd like.

Jikook have never bickered before AYS? Really?! REALLY?! You stated you're five years into this fandom so my assumption is your consumption of content begins at 2019. Because there is NO WAY that anyone could have seen jikook interactions since 2013, and claimed they have only ever been 'lovey-dovey'.

If there was any awkwardness at the very beginning of filming (which I still have yet to see), do you know why? It's because Jimin and Jungkook DIDN'T HAVE A CLUE WHAT THEY WERE FILMING! They didn't even have a frigging name for the show! To the point that they, along with the staff said on multiple occasions that they didn't even know if this even would be released. Not because they were awkward with each other but because they were just going with the flow for the first time. And as entertainers, they needed to feel out the situation to provide content for us. Guess what? That takes a bit of time.

And your whole essay on JK not being there for Jimin? I'm not even going to go into detail because clearly the only time Jimin and Jungkook interact is when a camera is rolling.

Finally the military thing. You know what would have been more comforting than each other? Being assigned to an area that wasn't the most dangerous and active. And visible tattoos have nothing to do with anything as a lot of persons have posted about. It may have barred them from a select few, but certainly not all other avenues. And Jungkook could have just as easily chosen Taehyung to enlist with. But he didn't. And I hardly think he tossed a coin or that Jimin was the second option. The apparently indigestible fact remains that jikook actively chose each other.

You claim that jikook changed, just like Taekook, and that's just how some of 'you' see it. Fine. Everyone's entitled to their opinion. And I would actually genuinely be interested in those 'whys' you mentioned.

But please, when you do, make sure you can clearly reference from the beginning.

Because I can also do that to show how jikook's relationship has changed over the years. Only, it's not going to be the change you see.

[ladykailitha]

Howlin' for Yule

Hello and welcome to my Christmas AUvent Calendar! Every day from now until the 24th I will be posting a ficlet that is 500-1500 from an AU I've done over the years.

All stories will be marked with the tag #12 aus of christmas so you can follow along as I will only be tagging my permanent list for this (it would get too confusing otherwise).

The next one on our list is: Werewolf verse. You can read the story here. All links will be to the first chapter, but the chapter itself will have links to the rest of the story.

Do you know how ridiculously proud I am of that title? Do you? Because I am so damn proud of that title. Also welcome to the one that got away from me. I could have kept it short. They dance, they schmooze, and they go home.

But I wanted to write more with this one and when I realized if I wanted this to end on the 24th, I should have started on the 13th, instead of the 12th, I figured I could extend this and post it Christmas Eve.

Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5 Day 6 Day 7 Day 8 Day 9

~

Eddie stood in front of a mirror and fussed with his tie. He usually got a chuckle from seeing his reflection in a mirror because according to Wayne that one only became a myth recently with them no longer using silver to back them anymore. But not even that thought could bring a smile to his face.

Because he had to look super nice for his boyfriend’s big Yule Tide ‘do up at the new vampire coven’s place. After the Creel house had almost burnt down when Jason attacked, Chrissy thought it would be better to move the coven somewhere safer. Closer to civilization so that if that happened again, they could get help faster.

They had bought a beautiful mansion in Loch Nora that was able to house all the remaining members of the coven comfortably. It even had a large room just for balls. Which is what this most certainly was.

When Chrissy suggested it back in October, she had merely suggested party including the vampires and werewolves as a way to foster peace between them. But Steve, the beautiful big brained and even bigger hearted had suggested a Yule Ball for all the supernatural beings in Hawkins.

So that meant that all Eddie’s friends were going to be there and he had to look nice.

“You look like you’re going to a funeral,” Wayne groused from behind him. “Probably your own judging from the sour expression on his face.

Eddie whirled around in shock. Wayne was standing there in early 18th century clothes in golds and browns. He looked amazing. “Why can’t I look like that?!”

Wayne looked down at his attire and then back up. “Would you like to?”

Eddie cocked his head to the side. “I mean we really don’t have much time to make me something like that.” He waved at Wayne’s outfit. “Because I don’t think your clothes will fit me very well.”

Wayne chuckled. “Oh ye of little faith. You take that monkey suit off, and I’ll play fairy goduncle. Go on.”

Eddie raised a questioning eyebrow but did as he was told. He hadn’t been gone two scant minutes when he came back and all the clothes were laid out on his bed. Silks, velvet, and lace all in black. He would cut a dashing figure for sure.

He hurried to get dressed and then rushed out to the front to the kitchen and poured out a bowl of milk, placing it on the windowsill.

Wayne chuckled from the living room. “She owed me a favor, but I’m sure she will appreciate the treat anyway.”

Eddie shook his head. “It’s just good manners.”

Wayne nodded solemnly. He had raised this boy right. Not just in the ways of the supernatural, but in the ways of being a good human, too.

Then the sound of horses arriving, clattered outside their window and they both exited the trailer to see an elegant coach and four black horses.

“Your boy sure has a flare for the dramatic,” Wayne huffed as he was helped into the carriage by an actual footman. Something that Wayne had never experienced in his long life.

Eddie could only agree. In the last light of the shortest day of the year, the driver and footman seemed to glimmer as though they had a glamour placed over them to look vaguely human.

They pulled up to the coven’s new home and Eddie let out a wolf whistle. “The new Dominus seems to have her own flare for the dramatic.”

“Nah,” Wayne said as he exited the carriage, “that just comes from being a vampire.”

They were shown into what Eddie could only call a ballroom. It was massive. It was currently setup with long mahogany tables with little nameplates in front of every placement. The eating utensils were gold, the glasses were crystal, and plates were fine china.

It screamed opulence and once Eddie would have turned tail and ran. But not anymore. Being a vampire changed that, for sure, but what really cinched the deal was the man, standing next to the Dominus in a beautiful red and gold outfit similar to what Wayne and Eddie were wearing.

Steve Harrington, Roane Pack Alpha.

~

Day 11 Day 12

NOW WITH PART TWO!

I could have waited until the 23rd to post this one, but there was something symbolic about posting it on the day of the winter solstice. The longest night.

Tag List: CLOSED

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