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llflorence · 3 days ago

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Can I convince you to fall for me?

Sequel to Did you just -- kiss me? (Human AU, RatedE)

Inspired by this art by @gahellhimself-blog

“Oh, pshh!” Maggie says as she begins her second mimosa. The fine lines around her mouth have cracked as the face mask dries. “He’s not going to judge your sexual prowess on a little chipped tooth.”

Aziraphale glances around at the stylists. They’re all watching where he and Maggie sit, side by side in the massage chairs with their feet in roiling tubs of hot, soapy water. He just knows he’s being judged.

“It’s not so little anymore,” he complains, quiet enough so only they two can hear. “If you hadn’t talked me into eating that toffee —“

Maggie’s natural falsetto voice gets even higher as she lifts the bottom of Aziraphale’s flute toward his face. “Puh-lease. It’s hardly noticeable. It’s like the dimples on your ass, or the ski-jump nose.”

Aziraphale pushes her hand away and immediately takes offense. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

She laughs. The ladies in the chairs to their right look disapprovingly down long noses. “I only meant that it’s cute!”

Before Aziraphale can protest, Maggie downs the rest of her drink. She leans over, conspiratorially like. “It’s not like he’s going to know you can’t afford the dentist because you have no insurance and can barely make rent without help from your mother. Unless, of course, you tell him.”

Maggie is the nicest, kindest, most generous person Aziraphale knows, which is why she’s his best friend. Still, alcohol does tend to make her brutally honest.

She pats his hand and lifts the glass back to his mouth. If this wasn’t their annual pampering girls' day, he’d have refused. As it is, it’s New Year's Eve morning, and he’s way out of sorts. Maybe she has the right idea.

He finishes the mimosa in two gulps and forces himself to withstand the bittersweet fizzing in his nose and on his tongue. If he’d listened to Muriel and postponed this date until after the holidays, he wouldn’t be so miserable.

Well. He’d be less miserable.

Aziraphale lets Maggie pour him another glass from the chilled carafe in the cooler by her side. By the way things are going, he’s going to need it to make it through her advice for this evening.

“Now. You’ve already hired the Uber, right?” Her pretty, plump cheeks are quite pink.

“Yes,” he sighs. “But I can’t even pay for this spa treatment. I don’t know how I’m going to pay down the credit cards —“

“Think of it this way,” she interrupts, swirling her glass and staring off into the distance. The windows are dripping with condensation, obscuring the view of the street. “If you drive Ruby, you’ll be obligated to go take her home, won’t you? This way your handsome devil will have to drive you to his place.”

Aziraphale hasn’t told her about the text messages. He’s certain that Anthony has it in the stars to bring Aziraphale home. The man just doesn’t know what to expect.

(He thinks of Ruby where she’s parked on the street outside his apartment. Two-hundred-and-forty-thousand miles and the Subaru hasn’t failed him yet.)

“Yeah,” he grumps. “And when we get there and I drop my trousers, and all I have to offer is soft-serve ice cream —“

Maggie laughs again. A good-sized splash of orange juice and champagne spills on her sweater. “At our age, that’s the least of our worries!”

Aziraphale is pretty sure she’s never had to deal with a limp dick her entire life.

“This coming from a fifty-one-year-old lesbian whose pleasure button is on the outside .”

This time, the whole row of massage chair inhabitants turns to look at them, from both sides. Aziraphale quickly hides his face in his drink.

Maggie, however, doesn’t get the hint. Her volume is way past annoying, heading for indecent. “Maybe you fifty-one-and-a-half-year-old gays should try using your fingers. Or, better yet, your mouth .”

Mimosa sprays all over Aziraphale’s lap, soiling his clean pants and dribbling down his chin. At least he hasn’t choked this time.

Felicia, his stylist, brings him a towel. There’s a mischievous glint in her eye. “About ten minutes left on the timer. You two need anything?”

Maggie needs nothing, of course. “But Aziraphale is going to need his chest waxed. I’m paying.”

“Aziraphale most certainly does not need his chest waxed!” he says, horrified. Felicia shares a wink with Maggie, and he groans at their sudden partnership.

“Come on!” Maggie pleads. She swishes her feet in the bath and bats her long eyelashes. “Don’t you think you shouldn’t leave anything to chance? Second time around and all?”

His stylist’s eyebrows rise as she lifts and checks under his mud mask. “Got a date, have we?”

Aziraphale closes his eyes and wishes he were anywhere else.

“It’s so romantic,” Maggie coos, and he knows she’s about to tell the whole tale. He inhales deeply and beats her to it.

“A friend of mine and I reconnected after fifteen years. I’m attending as his guest at a New Year’s Eve party tonight.”

Felicia knows Aziraphale almost as well as Maggie, seeing as he subscribes to therapy via hair and skin care. She eyes him head to foot and runs her tongue along the inside of her mouth. “Keep the hairy chest,” she nods. “Run some of that conditioner I gave you last time through it. You’ll thank me. So will he.”

Aziraphale takes her advice as he stands in the shower under what can only be called a ‘stream.’ It’s more like a slow drizzle; he’s called the landlord three times about the clogged shower head. And the busted lightbulb inside the fridge. And the window that’s stuck open in the kitchen. It’s getting to the point where he’s just going to fix things himself. That is, if he knew how.

He waits as long as he can, until goosebumps form on his arms and he’s procrastinated enough. He’s about as clean as he can be, and he’s done everything possible to make himself presentable. Nothing he can do about the tooth, of course.

Aziraphale shaves and dresses and paces in the kitchen as he waits for his ride. The new cufflinks from Muriel look out of place with his not-so-new shirt and suit coat. But at least he’s not wearing something rented; he could never live with himself if he did that.

He smooths out his tie and glances at the phone lying on the kitchen counter. There have been no text messages all day from him. Aziraphale knows it’s because he’s busy. Today was the day Anthony was scheduled to finish up on that very personal business he mentioned last week. And that was none of Aziraphale’s business.

The phone lights up, vibrating as a call comes through. It’s Muriel, and he considers not answering it. They’re probably ringing with more advice. As if he’s not already horribly embarrassed about the whole thing.

“Hey, Dad,” they say, bright and cheery as usual. “Just calling to wish you good luck.”

Aziraphale tries to smile so that it will show up in his voice. “Thanks, Dear. It’s really going to be f –”

“If it’s like, really bad, remember you can call me and I’ll pick you up. Just like you always offered for me.”

It’s going to be a long, long night, he thinks.

The Uber driver sends him a text from the street, and Aziraphale says goodbye to his offspring. He collects his long wool coat, hat, and mittens, and almost forgets the scarf as he pulls the door shut. It gets stuck in the door as he climbs inside, but Aziraphale doesn’t realize it. He’s too busy trying to make his hands stop shaking long enough to send a text.

To Anthony J. Crowley.

On my way!

It’s a short drive through the busy part of downtown. Traffic is horrendous, and Aziraphale watches the time as his ride is forced to slow down to allow revelers to cross the streets. At this rate, he’ll be fifteen to twenty minutes late. Not the first impression he wishes to make, especially if Anthony relates punctuality to sex.

Sex is all Aziraphale can think about. In a matter of days, he’s become obsessed. He worries about how he smells, how he’ll taste, whether he should eat or be eaten. It ramps him up so high that he can’t focus on everyday things, like remembering to turn the dryer on after throwing wet clothes in. Or bringing the garbage and the recycling out to the cans.

So when the car pulls up to a swanky hotel, all lit up like a Christmas tree, he’s adjusting his dick inside the new underwear he bought himself as a gift. He makes the mistake of feeling the tip for wetness, which, of course, is right there. And, god, he hopes it isn’t leaking through to make a dark spot on the front of his trousers.

He pays and thanks the driver, opening the door to find the end of his scarf coated with brown, sandy slush. It’s dripping like mad as he lifts it off the ground, as he tries to close the car door and not step in the salty, puddled mess next to the curb.

The night has already begun with a failure, as he slips on the sidewalk and loses his balance. He closes his eyes as he sees very clearly what is about to happen. He’s going to land on his ass and ruin his night.

But the fall doesn’t happen. Instead, he is rescued. He is rescued by a tall, dark, devastatingly handsome man dressed in a familiar Santa cap. Gold-brown eyes twinkle down at him, and Aziraphale feels his breath catch in his throat.

“Oh!” he manages, shocked and thrilled and a hundred other emotions all at once. Anthony has both hands firmly under Aziraphale’s elbows. And he’s smiling.

He’s smiling.

“See,” he begins, voice six shades of seductive as he steadies Aziraphale on his feet. “I thought maybe I could eventually convince you to fall for me, but this is ridiculous.”

Read on AO3

#Aziraphale #crowley #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #good omens #new christmas tradition

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won4kiss · 3 days ago

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﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ────FOREVER SOUNDS PERFECT.

(🐚) ── 𝓛EE HEESEUNG﹙희승﹚ ꒰ 𝓰. oneshot ៸ fluff ៸ established relationship ୨୧ㅤㅤ WARNiNGS : not proofread ៸ kissing ៸ petnames ៸ ❞ fiance! 𝓁ee heeseung x 𝑓! reader ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ꒰ WC : 0.6K ꒱ SYPNOSiS 𐙚 in the late hours of the night, you and heeseung indulge in a late night talk about your soon to be married future together .ᐟ ── LiBRARY

THE APARTMENT WAS SILENT WITH YOUR THOUGHTS.

the world outside could be heard slightly from the open windows, but now, wrapped in lee heeseung’s arms, everything feels still and perfect.

he’s lying on his back, and you’re curled against his chest, your legs tangled like it’s second nature. his fingers play gently with yours, occasionally spinning the engagement ring on your finger like he still can’t believe it’s there.

“you’re thinking about something, aren’t you?” you say, tilting your head up to catch his gaze.

his lips twitch into a small grin, warm and familiar. “maybe.”

you raise an eyebrow, shifting slightly to lift yourself on your elbow. “okay mr. nonchalant, spill.” ── 𝖱𝖤𝖲𝖳 𝖡𝖤𝖫𝖮𝖶!

heeseung sighed dramatically, letting his head fall back against the pillow with a thud. “i was just thinking about our wedding.”

your feel your heart skip a beat, but you play it cool. “oh? what about it?”

he taps his chin as if he’s deep in thought. “i’m still debating if i should cry when i see you walking down the aisle or just faint on the spot. both feel very in character for me.”

you giggle at his words, hitting his chest lightly. “be serious, hee!”

“i am serious,” he insists, catching your hand and pressing a gentle kiss to your palm. “you’re going to look so beautiful. i’m probably gonna cry a little… just so you know.”

you roll your eyes affectionately, your cheeks pink and insides warm. “good. then i’ll cry too, and we’ll be a mess together.”

heeseung grins and tugs you down so you’re lying on his chest again—his arms wrap securely around you, like he’s afraid you might slip away.

“i was also thinking about our first dance.”

“really?”

“yeah.” his fingers traced lazy patterns on your back. “i don’t know what song we’ll pick, but i know i’m not letting you go, even when the song’s over. we’ll probably have to be dragged off the dance floor.”

you can’t help but smile at the image forming in your imagination. “god—you’re such a sap.”

“for you? always.” he presses a kiss to the top of your head, lingering on your skin.

“and then after the wedding… we’ll go somewhere far away for our honeymoon. somewhere with a beach, maybe. just us, no schedules, just sleeping in, exploring, eating too much good food.”

“sold,” you mumble, snuggling closer into his embrace if possible. “but you know the best part?”

“what?”

“coming home.” you trace small circles on his chest, where his heartbeat is steady and comforting.

“starting our life together. making breakfast on the weekends, falling asleep on the couch watching dumb movies, annoying you until you can’t take it anymore.”

heeseung chuckles, tilting your chin up so you’re nose to nose. “i love the sound of that.”

you grin. “even the annoying you part?”

“especially that part.” his voice softens, feeling the seriousness despite the teasing. “i want all of it. every boring, silly, annoying little moment.”

you lean up and press a soft kiss to his lips. he smiles into it, chasing after you when you pull back like he’s not done yet.

“we’re gonna have the best life,” he says so surely, eyes sparkling. “even if we burn dinner or lose our keys or—i don’t know, accidentally adopt five dogs someday.”

“accidentally?” you laugh.

he laughs too, tipping his head back against the pillow. “intentionally. whatever you desire, baby. as long as it’s with you.”

you smile, settling back into his arms, feeling so impossibly safe and loved. “forever sounds pretty nice.”

heeseung hums contentedly, his lips brushing your temple. “forever sounds perfect.”

NOTE. i love heeseung so much:( i think this will be my second to last fic of 2024!! my birthdays on tuesday that’s the only thing keeping me going rn ☹️ BUT HAIR APPOINTMENT ON THE 30TH GUESS WHOS GOING BLONDE🔥🔥🔥

୨୧ TAGLIST OPEN ‹𝟹 @mioons @nshmuras @suneng @pnghoon @shawnyle @laylasbunbunny @privareum @briefsaladfun @cyjzzl @sol3chu @txtlyn @d-dilemma @deezbin @iluvnikism @rikibwn @wonsprincess @niawonn @pockyyasii @kiss4noo @nineooooo @loves0ft @ancnymcnzjy @dazzlingjaeyun : COMMENT OR SEND AN ASK TBA.

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moody-alcoholic · 1 day ago

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I wanted to write something Ghoap related. Why not continue this weird hurt/ angst kick I've been on.

CW: attempted date rape, non-con drugging, alcohol, violence, blood.

A guy in a bar attempts to 'pick you up' the best boys Johnny & Simon come to the rescue.

Merry Christmas/ happy holidays. <3

You’re mad, she said she wouldn’t do this again, leave you alone at a bar while she went home with some stranger. But here you are yet again alone finishing on your 4th? 5th? drink. Who cares, you signal the bartender over for another.

The fresh gin and tonic went down like a treat numbing your anger and making you relax. You pull your phone out getting ready to send her a long 'fuck you' message. You’ve only just started typing when someone comes up on the stool next to you.

“Hey, can I buy you a drink?” You frown looking up at him. He’s cute black hair, nice casual suit, kind of gives you a sleazy salesman vibe.

“I’m good, thanks.” You say going back to the text.

“C’mon, what is it, vodka tonic?” He asks, you look back over at him almost rolling your eyes. He’s not that bad looking. You sigh, not responding for a second. You don’t want to have to owe this guy. ‘It’s just a drink’ your drunken brain tells you ‘don’t turn down a free drink.’

“Gin and tonic.” You correct him. He smiles, waving the bartender over. You finish your short angry text to your friend and put your phone back in your bag.

“I saw your friend leave earlier.” He says paying for the drinks. You pick yours up and he signals for you to cheers with him. You clink your glasses together before taking a sip.

“Yeah, she went off with some guy.” You say a little more bitter than you wanted to.

“Shit, think she’ll be coming back?” He asks, sipping his drink, coke and something.

“No fucking clue. Probably not.” You sigh.

“Shame, at least the drinks are cheap.” he jokes. You smile at him, getting a better look at him. He’s skinny, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“So you from round here or not?”

“No, only here to see my friend. It's her birthday tomorrow.” You say.

“Wow so she ditches you the day before her birthday for some twink?” He chuckles.

“Yeah.” You scoff, he was a twink. There’s the sound of a crash behind you, a woman screaming. It pulls your attention as you look at the commotion playing out behind you. Two men are squaring up to each other with smashed glasses on the floor. It’s not long before security are running over them, pulling them apart.

The incident has your blood pumping and adrenaline rushing through you. You look back picking up your drink and finishing it off to quell your nerves.

That’s it you’ve had your last drink you should go home.

“Thanks for the drink.” you say to him as you jump off the stool.

“Leaving already?” He asks. You nod. He reaches out and grabs your arm. It makes you uncomfortable and you freeze.

"Yeah. I have to get back to my hotel.” Shit, you shouldn’t have told him that.

“Oh, I can walk you if you want?” He asks.

“No, thank you but I'm okay.” You pull your arm out his grip walking away. The adrenaline from the drunken fight is still pulsing through your body.

“Well take it easy.” He says as you walk away, you turn back, smile and nod at him as you leave.

There is still a line outside to get back into the club as you leave it must not be that late. You pull your phone out to check where you need to go. You’re not used to the busy London streets. You must have drank the last 2 drinks a little too fast as your head feels particularly foggy.

You’re turning down streets using your phone’s maps app to guide you. Your mouth goes suddenly dry, your head swimming more than normal. You sway all of a sudden feeling unsteady on your feet. You stop looking at your phone looking ahead of you trying to regain your balance.

It doesn’t help and you lean up against a sign at the corner of the street. Maybe you’re going to be sick, you drank the drinks too quickly and now you’re going to pay for it.

You retch but nothing comes out, your throat feels dry, your head swims as your legs give way. You fall to your knees. Panic comes over you, this is not a good place to be doing this.

You curse under your breath, you’ve clearly had way too much to drink.

Hands land on your shoulders, the grip is strong then the hands slip under your armpits. The person pulls you to your feet, you try to talk but it just comes off as a slur as your body is pulled into a private parking area behind some bins.

You’re not sure what’s going on, your vision is fuzzy, your breathing picks up. You can feel someone trying to pull your jacket off you, maybe you’re being robbed. You try to talk again but nothing comes out. You try to grip your jacket to pull it back on you but whoever it is, is stronger than you.

You feel someone grip the waistband of your jeans. Panic overwhelms you, you get enough energy to push the person off you. It doesn’t last long before there is a sharp pain on your face. You yelp as your face stings.

“Stay. Still.” A voice says through gritted teeth. You whine trying to build up srength again but nothing happens.

Silent tears run down your face. You hate this, you hate what’s happening. Your head is swimming, you close your eyes still fighting with the hands on your waist. Suddenly the person is gone, your body falls to the floor slumping against the industrial bin.

New hands land on you pulling your jacket back around you. You try to push them off but they grab your wrists.

“Hey lass, it’s okay, you’re okay.” You don’t know what accent that is but it’s not English, maybe he’s Irish?

“Take it easy, what's your name?” He asks, you stop fighting, looking up at him. He’s tall even though he’s crouched down in front of you. He has a mohawk, and even in the dark you can see his deep blue eyes. You’re not going to tell him your name. You stay silent.

“Okay, you don’t have to tell me. We’re going to get you somewhere safe okay?”

We’re?

You look past him, you can see another hulking figure holding someone up by their collar. You see fist meet skin, it makes you gasp. The man-Johnny-pulls your attention back to him.

“How you feeling? You look a little worse for wear, think you can walk?” He asks. You nod and he helps you to your feet. You sway against him but he supports you holding you up as you walk out the parking alcove.

There’s another man, and one on the floor groaning. You see blood, you can smell it in the air. More hands are on you now. You look up at the tall man standing next to you. You feel sick, your head throbbing, your vision blurring. Your legs give way again as your arms start to tingle.

“C’mon lass, can you hear us?” The dark haired man says as you collapse fully to the ground.

“Yes,” You try to say but it just comes out as a slur, it’s barely English. You don’t care, you suck in one last breath of air before everything goes black.

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mrsfancyferrari · 23 hours ago

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Christmas Ball

Summary: CS55 + fake dating for a Christmas party/ball

Song: Michael Bublé - White Christmas

Author’s note: I hope everyone has a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 4.8k

You always found the holidays to be a bittersweet time, a swirling mix of joy and nostalgia that danced through the air like the flurries of snow outside your window. This year, however, felt particularly strange.

The twinkling lights of the city and the festive decorations around your apartment offered a sense of cheer that somehow faded against the backdrop of your best friend Carlos's impending departure from Ferrari.

The air was thick with anticipation, and you couldn't shake the feeling that something big was about to change.

"Carlos, are you sure you want to do this?" You asked, trying to hide your concern behind a playful smirk.

It was the day before the big Christmas party, and Carlos had approached you with an unusual proposition: to be his fake girlfriend for the event.

He leaned back against the wall of your small kitchen, arms crossed, and gave you that charming grin you could never resist.

"Come on, you know the guys at the team will never let me live it down if I show up alone. They've been teasing me for months about being single. I can't go in there and give them the satisfaction."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help but chuckle. Carlos was right; the engineers and team members could be relentless. It was as if they took pleasure in reminding him that he was one of the most talented racers in the world but somehow couldn’t manage to keep a girlfriend.

"But a fake girlfriend? Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, your family will be there too. They’ll want to know more about me."

“Exactly! You know them already. You’ll fit right in.” He took a step closer, and his expression turned earnest.

“Please, I can’t do this alone. It’ll just be for one night. Just act like we’re a couple, and we’ll get through it. I promise you won’t regret it.”

You hesitated, glancing around your kitchen as if the utensils might offer some clarity. “What if they ask us about our ‘relationship’? You know, like how we met or something?”

He waved his hand dismissively. “We’ll figure it out as we go. I trust you. And you’re good at this kind of stuff. Remember that time we pretended to be a couple at my cousin’s wedding?”

“That was one time! And we were twelve!” you exclaimed, laughing at the memory of young Carlos and you dressed up in ill-fitting suits and dresses, giggling as you attempted to dance.

“Exactly! And we pulled it off!” His voice was filled with enthusiasm. “You’re the only one I trust to do this with me. Plus, it’ll be fun! Just think of it as an adventure.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his infectious excitement. Deep down, you knew you would never say no to him. The truth was, despite the outrageous nature of the request, you found the idea of pretending to be his girlfriend strangely appealing.

Maybe it was the excitement of the party itself or perhaps the thrill of being in such close proximity to someone you cared about so deeply.

“Fine. But only for one night. And don’t think you can make me wear a silly outfit or anything.”

Carlos clapped his hands together, his eyes sparkling with delight. “Deal! You’ll look amazing no matter what you wear. I'll pick you up, and we’ll go in style.”

The night of the party arrived, and you stood in front of your full-length mirror, adjusting the shimmering red dress that hugged your curves perfectly.

The color reflected the team’s colors, a deep and vibrant shade that made you feel festive but elegant. The twinkling lights decorating the streets outside seemed to echo the excitement thrumming in your heart. It was a night meant for glamour, and you couldn’t wait to step into that world—especially since Carlos would be your partner in crime.

You glanced at the clock. He was late, and you felt the familiar flutter of nerves in your stomach. Was it silly to feel anxious? This was supposed to be fun.

You had agreed to play the role of Carlos's fake girlfriend for the evening, a little charade to help him navigate the intricacies of a farewell party filled with fans, colleagues, and those who were eager to get a word in about his future.

Just as you were beginning to worry, you heard the sound of a car pulling up outside. Your heart skipped a beat. Moments later, Carlos knocked on your door, and the sound reverberated through your chest.

“Hey! Ready to steal the show?” he called out, his voice filled with that familiar charm that always made you smile.

You opened the door to find him standing there in a crisp black suit, his dark hair styled just right, and his smile wide enough to melt anyone’s heart.

The sight of him took your breath away. “Wow,” he said, eyes widening as he took you in. “You look incredible.”

You felt your cheeks flush at his compliment, the warmth creeping up as you looked down at your dress, then back up at him. “Thanks. You clean up pretty well yourself.”

Carlos stepped inside and took your hand, his grip warm and reassuring. “Shall we?”

He led you to his car, opening the door and helping you in with a grace that made your heart flutter. The drive to the venue was filled with light banter about the party.

“I can’t believe how many people are going to be there just for me,” he said, his brow furrowing slightly with stress.

You squeezed his hand, trying to ground him. “You’ll be fine. I’ll be right beside you,” you assured, your voice steady.

“Thanks, cariño,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile. “I picked the right girlfriend,” he joked, and you laughed, the sound mingling with the excitement in the air.

When you finally arrived at the event, Carlos helped you out of the car, shielding you from the flashing lights of the paparazzi. “Let’s go and show them how it’s done,” he said, offering his arm.

You looped yours through his, the gesture feeling surprisingly natural, as if you had done this a thousand times before.

As you entered the building, the atmosphere enveloped you like a warm embrace. A crowd of important people milled around, dressed in their finest, and the air was filled with laughter and conversation. You felt a mixture of nerves and excitement; it was hard to believe you were part of this glamorous world for the night.

Carlos greeted guests with confidence, exchanging pleasantries and smiles, and you stayed close by his side, waiting for the moment he would introduce you or for someone to inquire about who you were.

“Carlos!” a voice called, and you turned to see Charles approach, his face lighting up at the sight of Carlos. “Mate, we’re going to miss you.”

Carlos laughed, patting his friend on the back. “Thank you! I’m excited for the new adventure, but I’m really going to miss you guys.”

“Who’s this?” Charles asked, turning to you with curiosity.

Carlos glanced at you, a playful grin on his face. “This is my girlfriend. We’ve been together for a few months now.”

You felt a slight thrill at being introduced, even if it was under the guise of a relationship that was more a performance than reality. “Nice to meet you,” you said, offering your hand.

“Likewise! Good to see Carlos has someone like you by his side.” Charles winked and moved on, leaving you both with a hint of laughter in the air.

Carlos leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “That was easier than I expected.”

You smiled, “Just wait until the press gets a hold of this. They’ll eat it up.”

“I know,” he said, a hint of worry crossing his features. “I just hope it doesn’t get too out of hand.”

You straightened your shoulders, ready to support him. “We’ll handle it together. I’ve got your back.”

The night progressed, and you moved from one conversation to another, Carlos introducing you to various people, and you feigned familiarity, playing your role well. There were moments of laughter, shared stories, and even some touching tributes from his friends that made your heart swell with pride for him.

“You’re doing great,” Carlos said, glancing at you with a reassuring smile. His dark eyes sparkled with a mixture of excitement and nerves. The way he looked at you made your heart race a little faster.

“I’m just trying to remember my lines,” you teased, nudging him playfully. “What was it again? ‘I’m so proud of my boyfriend’ or ‘Carlos is going to take the racing world by storm’?”

“Definitely the second one,” he laughed. “But you can’t forget the part where you look impressed by my driving skills.”

“Of course, I’ll be your biggest fan tonight,” you replied, adjusting the elegant dress you wore.

Finally, you spotted them. A cluster of warm, welcoming faces, all gathered around a beautifully decorated table. Carlos’s mother, Reyes, a woman with an infectious laugh and a penchant for elegant scarves, was the first to notice your approach. Her eyes lit up as she stood, arms wide open, ready to welcome her son.

“There you are!” she exclaimed, pulling Carlos into a tight embrace. “We’ve been waiting for you! And you must be the lovely girl I’ve heard so much about.”

“Yes, I’m—” you started, but Carlos cut in.

“This is my girlfriend,” he said with an air of confidence, placing a gentle hand on your lower back. “You remember what I told you, right?”

“Of course! It’s wonderful to finally meet you,” Reyes said, turning her attention to you. You couldn’t help but feel her warmth radiating towards you. “Carlos has told us all about you, and I must say, he’s been smitten ever since he met you.”

“Mamá, come on,” Carlos chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as a slight blush crept across his cheeks. “You make it sound like I’m a lovesick puppy.”

You stepped forward, extending your hand for a handshake, but Reyes pulled you into an embrace instead.

The sincerity in her touch gave you a sense of comfort. “We are so excited for you both! We want to hear everything.”

Carlos’s father, a distinguished man with salt-and-pepper hair, stepped forward next. “And what is your name, my dear?”

“It’s Y/N,” you replied, a bit shyly.

“Ah, Y/N,” he repeated, his gaze warm. “Carlos has been lucky to have you by his side. A good partner is invaluable in this world.”

“Thank you, sir,” you replied, feeling the weight of his words. You felt a mix of pride and anxiety; you wanted to impress them but also felt like you were stepping into a role you hadn’t fully prepared for.

Just then, Carlos’s sister, Blanca, chimed in, her curly hair bouncing as she approached. “So, how did you two meet?”

“We’ve actually known each other since childhood,” you explained, your voice steadier now.

“Oh, that’s where I’ve seen you before! You two were always together when you were little,” Reyes added, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Yeah,” Carlos chuckled, his arm subtly wrapping around your waist. “We’ve been through a lot together. It only makes sense for her to be here tonight.”

As the evening progressed, you found yourself in a whirlwind of conversations and laughter, with Carlos’s family treating you like one of their own.

Each kind word from them built your confidence, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of being a little out of place.

Later, as the string quartet shifted to a slower melody, Carlos leaned closer to you, his voice low and conspiratorial. “You’re doing amazing,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. “I think my family is starting to really like you.”

“Thanks,” you replied, a little breathless. “But you’re the one who’s charming them.”

He chuckled, and you noticed the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, a sign of genuine happiness. “I’m just glad you’re here with me. It would be a lot more nerve-wracking without you.”

You glanced at him, and for a moment, it felt as if the world outside had faded away. You both stood on the periphery of the dance floor, the couples moving gracefully in the dim light, laughter mingling with the sweet strains of music.

“Carlos,” you said softly, “are you really okay with this whole… fake girlfriend thing?”

His expression turned serious, the laughter in his eyes replaced with a warmth that made your heart race. “Honestly? It was supposed to be just a simple arrangement, but I’m enjoying this way more than I thought I would.”

A pang of hope swelled in your chest, but you quickly brushed it aside. “Me too,” you admitted. “But it’s complicated, right? I mean, you’re about to leave for Ferrari, and I—”

He interrupted, his tone earnest. “But I don’t want it to end. Not like this.”

Before you could respond, his sister Blanca waved you over. “Y/N! Come dance with us!”

Carlos gave you a gentle push toward the dance floor. “You should go; they’re waiting for you.”

Reluctantly, you stepped onto the floor, finding a place among Carlos’s family. They welcomed you with open arms, laughter and joy surrounding you as you twirled and swayed to the music.

You felt the weight of your worries lift, if only for a moment, and lost yourself in the rhythm of the night.

You danced freely, letting the music guide your movements. You could feel Bianca’s infectious energy beside you, and together, you lost yourselves in the moment, giggling and twirling under the stars.

From a distance, Carlos watched, his heart swelling as he observed you. You were radiant, carefree, and completely lost in the music. He leaned against a wooden pillar, taking in the sight, when a familiar voice cut through the noise.

“You picked a good one,” said his father, standing beside him with an approving nod. Carlos turned to his dad, a hint of surprise etched on his face.

“Yeah, she’s amazing, isn’t she?” Carlos replied, trying to mask the hint of admiration in his voice. It was true; you had a spark that drew people in, and Carlos felt lucky just to know you.

“Do you really like her?” his dad asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’re going to need a good woman by your side when you start this new chapter. You can’t always be the charming bachelor.”

Carlos chuckled lightly, the laughter fading as he thought about the question. Did he like you? It was more than that. You were a friend, but there was something else simmering beneath the surface—a warmth that ignited every time you smiled at him or when you laughed at his jokes.

“Yeah, I do,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s complicated.”

“Life is complicated, son. You don’t have to have it all figured out. Just enjoy the moment,” his father advised, clapping him on the shoulder before drifting away to chat with other guests.

Carlos returned his gaze to the dance floor, watching you sway with Bianca. The two of you were the picture of joy. You glanced over, catching his eye again, and this time, you blew him a kiss, teasingly.

He couldn’t help but laugh and shake his head, his heart skipping a beat.

“Your sister is very energetic,” you said, returning to Carlos after the dance. You brushed a few errant strands of hair from your face, a little breathless from the whirlwind of dancing.

Carlos chuckled, his deep voice reverberating within you. “That’s one way to put it. She’s been practicing her dance moves for weeks, all to show off at my farewell party.”

“Looks like she’s succeeding,” you replied, glancing back at Bianca, who was now attempting an exaggerated salsa move with one of the other guests.

The sight made you laugh. You could hardly keep up with her energy, but you loved how infectious her spirit was.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, the party transitioned from laughter to a more subdued warmth.

You felt a slight shiver, not from the cool evening air, but from the warmth radiating between you, a connection that felt both exciting and unnerving.

“So,” he began, his expression shifting slightly as you settled beside him on the bench, “how does it feel to be my fake girlfriend for a night?”

You paused, considering your response. “Weird but natural, if you know what I mean.”

You glanced back at Bianca, who had just twirled around, her skirt flaring out, and you couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm.

“Natural? Really?” Carlos raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “What’s so natural about pretending to be my girlfriend?”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I don’t know, it just feels… comfortable? We’ve known each other long enough. It’s not like I’m pretending to be someone I’m not.”

Carlos chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, I feel it too.” He leaned against the wall, folding his arms.

The way the dim lights of the party cast shadows across his face made him look almost ethereal, and your heart did a little flip that you tried to ignore.

“Okay, but you have to admit this is ridiculous,” he continued, still grinning. “We’re just two friends pretending to be in love. What if someone takes us seriously?”

You took a sip of your drink, feeling the coolness slide down your throat. “Who cares? It’s just for tonight. And honestly, I think it might be a little fun.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Fun, huh? So you’re saying you wouldn’t mind me throwing an arm around your shoulder, or maybe… a kiss on the cheek?”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a mock-serious tone. “What if I’m a terrible kisser?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a grin. “I’m sure you’d be fine,” you shot back, teasingly. “And if not, I’ll just call it an act.”

“An act that could end badly,” he replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “But I suppose I could get used to having my ‘girlfriend’ on my arm tonight.”

As the evening wore on, the laughter and chatter of the party swirled around you. You found yourself slipping into the role with surprising ease.

You chatted with Carlos about everything from childhood memories to your mutual love for terrible rom-coms.

With each passing moment, the line between fake and real began to blur, making you acutely aware of the warmth emanating from him, the way he always seemed to be in tune with your thoughts, the subtle glances that lingered just a second too long.

“Look, we need to act like a couple now,” Carlos said suddenly, his tone shifting as he glanced at a group of partygoers who were eyeing you both. “Hold my hand.”

You raised an eyebrow, taken aback. “What? Now?”

“Just do it!” He reached for your hand, his grip warm and reassuring. You took a deep breath but found yourself lacing your fingers with his. It felt… nice. Comforting, even.

“Wow,” you murmured, unable to hide your surprise. “This is weird.”

“Weird but natural, right?” he quipped, echoing your earlier words. You shot him a glare, but it was half-hearted.

Carlos led you into the crowd, and you could feel the eyes of the party on you. The thrill of being ‘together’ ignited a strange mix of excitement and nervousness in your stomach.

“Just follow my lead,” he says, his voice low and full of playful confidence. You nod, unsure of what to expect.

As you reach the dance floor, the music shifts to a slower rhythm. The lights dim slightly, creating an intimate atmosphere. Carlos’s hand glides to the small of your back, guiding you closer.

You can feel the heat radiating from his body as he locks eyes with you, a spark of something electric passing between you.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his eyes never leaving yours. “It’s just dancing.”

Your hands find their way to his shoulders, and the world around you blurs into a sea of motion. It’s just you and him, swaying together. You feel the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the steady beat of his heart mirroring your own.

“See? Not so bad, right?” he asks, a teasing lilt in his voice.

“Maybe,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. You’re both smiling now, caught up in the moment. “But I still can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“Neither can I,” he admits, his expression softening. “But it feels right, doesn’t it?”

Your bodies move in sync, flowing with the music as if it were a language only you two understood. His eyes search yours, searching for a sign, a signal that this isn’t just an act. In this crowded room, the two of you have created a bubble, a space where everything else fades away.

Just then, he dips you, his grip firm yet gentle, and your heart leaps into your throat. You trust him, allowing your body to lean back, supported completely by him.

You can’t help but laugh breathlessly. “Okay, you’re showing off now!”

“Maybe I am,” he grins, bringing you back up slowly. Your faces are so close, your lips almost touching. The air around you thickens, and suddenly, you’re acutely aware of every detail—the warmth of his breath, the way his gaze flickers to your lips and back up to your eyes.

“Carlos,” you start, your voice barely a whisper, the question hanging between you two.

“I know,” he says softly, the playfulness fading. “I feel it too. But… this is fun, right? Just for tonight?”

You swallow hard, the tension rising in your chest. “Yeah, just for tonight,” you confirm, but inside, a part of you is desperate for more.

His hand moves to the small of your back again, pulling you closer, and the world around you fades even further. You lose track of time, caught in the rhythm of the music and the warmth of his presence.

"Do we have to go back?" you murmured, your gaze lingering on his warm brown eyes, the softness of his expression making your heart flutter.

Carlos chuckled softly, the sound sending a warm thrill through you. "I mean, I’m not the host, but I think we’re kind of required to. Speeches and all that," he replied, reluctantly breaking the closeness between you.

He took a deep breath, his fingers lingering on your waist for just a moment longer before he stepped back.

You nodded, feeling a mix of reluctance and excitement. You had entered this arrangement as a favor—a way to help Carlos navigate the complexities of family expectations.

But now, with every shared glance and playful touch, the line between pretend and real began to blur.

As Carlos's father stood up to give his speech, you could see the pride etched on his face, the way his chest swelled with love as he looked at his son.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, his voice rich and steady. "Today, we gather to celebrate not just Carlos’s achievements, but the man he’s become. He has faced challenges with determination, embraced every opportunity with an open heart, and today, I stand before you, proud to call him my son."

A wave of emotion washed over you as you listened. You raised your glass with everyone else, your heart swelling with a mix of pride and an unfamiliar warmth.

Carlos caught your eye, and in that moment, you felt a connection that transcended the confines of your agreement. You were more than just a façade.

You were becoming someone significant in his life.

“To Carlos!” everyone toasted, their voices a harmonious blend of joy and affection. You clinked your glass against his, the sound a sweet reminder of your bond, however unconventional it may have been.

As the applause died down and conversations picked up once more, Carlos turned to you, his expression shifting from celebratory to serious.

"I know this is all a bit pretend, but…” He hesitated, searching your eyes for understanding, the sincerity of his tone causing your heart to race. “I don’t want it to end when the party does."

You swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond. The party was a façade, sure, but the emotions swirling between you felt real. "What do you mean?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I mean, this—us,” he gestured between the two of you, “it’s more than just an arrangement for me. I enjoy being around you. You make me feel… I don’t know, alive?”

His brow furrowed slightly, and he looked genuinely vulnerable. “I don’t want you to go back to being just Carlos’s friend or fake girlfriend. I want to see where this can really go.”

Your heart raced at his words, the gravity of the moment pressing down on you. “Carlos, we’ve always had chemistry, haven’t we? It’s just been… complicated.”

“Complicated,” he echoed, his gaze intense. “But it doesn’t have to be.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, breath hitching in your throat.

Carlos leaned in slightly, his voice low, “I mean, maybe we don’t have to pretend anymore. Maybe we could explore whatever this is between us.”

The thought sent a thrill through you, but fear followed closely behind. “What if it gets complicated again?” you asked, trembling slightly.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, a hint of uncertainty crossing his features. “But isn’t it worth finding out? I don’t want to leave without knowing what this could be. What we could be.”

You felt the warmth of his hand brush against yours, a spark igniting where your fingers met. The warmth was both electrifying and comforting, and without thinking, you leaned closer, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Okay,” you whispered, your breath catching as his thumb traced over your knuckles. “Let’s see where this goes.”

His eyes lit up with a mixture of relief and excitement. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you said, unable to suppress your own smile. “But no salsa dancing. I can’t handle that level of energy.”

Carlos laughed, the sound echoing into the hall. “Deal. I’ll save the salsa for my sister.” He leaned in, his breath warm against your cheek. “But I can offer something much better.”

You held your breath as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours softly. It was tentative at first, as if he was gauging your response. You kissed him back, the warmth of the fire fading into the background as everything else fell away.

In that moment, everything felt right. The chaos of the party, the looming specter of his departure for Ferrari, and the uncertain future melted away, leaving just the two of you, wrapped in a bubble of shared hope and newfound possibility.

As you pulled back, a breathless smile crept across your face. “So, how does it feel to have a real girlfriend?” you teased, feeling a surge of joy.

Carlos grinned, his eyes sparkling. “I think I could get used to this.”

“Let’s just enjoy the moment,” you said softly, echoing his father’s words.

“Yeah, let’s do that,” he agreed, and for the first time, you felt like everything might just be okay after all. . . . .

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smallgodseries · 4 hours ago

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“Are you doing Secret Santa this year?”

“Yeah, but I got Chloe, and you know she never likes what anyone gets her, and she always comes in under the dollar amount by as much as she can get away with. That wouldn’t be so bad, except she brags about it. You were supposed to be getting me a Christmas present! Why is it appropriate to tell me that you saved seventeen dollars out of a twenty dollar budget? It’s like, come on, Chloe, read the room.”

“At least you don’t have to put too much effort into whatever you get for her.”

“True. It’s just going to wind up at next week’s White Elephant party no matter what. Ooo, maybe I should get some of that bodywash I like!”

“Isn’t she allergic to that?”

“Show me where I care.”

Santa—true Santa, Santa prime, Santa in the sky with reindeer—is not a small god. Santa will insist that he isn’t a god at all, but he carries the hopes and prayers of children, monuments are built in his honor, and priests garb themselves in replicas of his raiment to grant absolution. He is a god, like it or not, and he is not a small one. He stands outside the purview of our chronicles.

Krampus, while he once had a shot at the big sleigh, lost that bid thanks to a less than marketable image and a fondness for stuffing naughty children into his sack, and has since settled in to a slightly narrower sphere of holiday cheer. And while he still does all the traditional Krampus things—lots of respect for tradition at the North Pole—his main sphere of influence is a little more adult in nature.

When you think “I could pocket half the budget” or “I don’t like Becky from HR enough to get her anything good,” Krampus is there. Putting you on the naughty list, remembering your name. When you think “peanuts are delicious, who cares if she’s allergic, maybe she’ll give them to me,” Krampus judges you even if no one else can.

Judges, but doesn’t stop. Because there are many ways to punish the naughty, and they don’t all end with childhood. He can’t truly live as he desires unless you sometimes misbehave.

Disappoint Krampus. Be a good Secret Santa this year.

His sack is waiting.

#small gods #lee moyer #smallgodseries #seanan mcguire #icons and stories

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vanteguccir · 1 day ago

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── ୨୧ !　CHRISTMAS BLURB

dad!matt sturniolo x reader

Y/N and Matt set up the house on christmas eve after their daughter goes to bed 🎄🎅

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The warmth of the fireplace crackled softly in the background, a cozy contrast to the chill of the snowstorm outside. Y/N and Matt sat together on their plush red-ish couch in the living room, their Christmas tree glowing brightly with a rainbow of twinkling lights and ornaments they had collected over the years. The scent of pine mingled with the faint sweetness of cookies left out on the table by their daughter just hours ago, complete with a small glass of milk.

Their daughter, Ava, had been bubbling with excitement all evening, her little voice ringing out as she read her letter to Santa aloud for them one last time. She had written it a week ago, complete with adorable misspellings, before carefully sealing it in an envelope addressed to the North Pole. After she had set out the cookies and milk, Y/N had carried her upstairs, humming a soft Christmas carol until she drifted off into her holiday dreams.

Now, the real magic began.

"Okay, so step one." Matt whispered over the gentle hum of the Alexa speaker on the kitchen counter, softly playing "Silent Night", leaning over the coffee table with a pen in his hand.

He grabbed the paper they had carefully tucked away earlier and began drafting the reply from Santa.

"What should Santa say to her? I don’t want to disappoint her, but I also don’t want to sound too over the top."

Y/N laughed softly, leaning over to look at what he’d written, her hand finding home on his hair, turning it messier than it already was.

"Matt, she’s six. Over the top is the bare minimum for Santa Claus."

"Right, right." Matt muttered, tapping the pen against his pouty lips in thought. He scrawled a new line in his handwriting. "How’s this? 'Dear Ava, Thank you so much for your beautiful letter! Mrs. Claus and I loved reading about all the kind things you’ve done this year'."

"It’s good." Y/N said, nodding with approval. "Make sure Santa says how proud he is of her for being such a good big helper to us. She loves hearing that."

Matt grinned.

"Got it. Santa’s totally her biggest fan." He finished the letter and held it up for Y/N to inspect.

She read it aloud, her voice soft.

"'I hope you enjoy the surprises I left under your tree. Remember to keep being the amazing, kind, and thoughtful little person you are. Merry Christmas! Love, Santa'." She smiled at Matt. "You’re good at this. Maybe you should moonlight as Santa’s secretary."

"Don’t tempt me." Matt joked, folding the letter and slipping it into a red envelope.

Next, they set the floor. Y/N carefully grabbed the glittering bag of artificial snow from their Christmas stash and handed it to Matt.

"I love this part so much."

Matt crouched by the fireplace, dusting a liberal amount of snow on the hearth, making it look like Santa had just stepped through the chimney. Then, he stood up, sliding his Prada boots on and stepping into the snow. He left a trail leading the fireplace to the table with the cookies and milk, and finally to the tree.

Y/N shook her head at his exaggerated movements, smiling.

"You’re such a dork."

"Well, you married me." He teased, winking at her, straightening up and looking at his work. "What do you think?"

"It’s adorable." She said, crossing her arms in front of her red sweater. "Now, the cookies. Don’t forget to leave a bite."

"Right." Matt agreed, grabbing a cookie and taking a large, exaggerated chomp. He replaced the bitten cookie back on the plate and downed the milk with a long gulp. "Santa’s full. And he’s gotta go deliver more presents."

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes.

"Was the cookie good?" She asked, briefly looking at the slightly deformed cookie they baked earlier with Ava.

"It was delicious." Matt smiled softly, pulling her close for a quick kiss before they got back to work.

Together, they placed the beautifully wrapped presents under the tree, making sure each one was strategically positioned to create the illusion of Santa’s careful delivery. Y/N made sure to add a few extra bows to the larger ones, while Matt adjusted the smaller ones for maximum effect.

As they stepped back to admire their work, Matt sighed, draping an arm around Y/N’s waist.

"Do you think she'll believe it? Like, really believe it?"

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with the glow of the Christmas lights.

"Of course, she will. This is magic to her, Matt. It’s magic to me, too."

Matt smiled, his heart full.

"I can’t wait to see her face tomorrow morning."

They sat on the couch for a moment longer, basking in the peacefulness and stillness of the house - something they rarely experienced these days. Y/N broke the silence with a quiet laugh.

"Chris and Nick are going to lose their minds when they see all this tomorrow."

"Chris is going to leave the whole house covered in fake snow." Matt said with a grin. "And act like it’s my fault."

"And Nick will probably try to eat all of Ava’s cookies." Y/N added, shaking her head while looking at the plate full of cookies above the kitchen counter.

They both chuckled, imagining the chaos of Christmas lunch the next day, but for now, the house was quiet, and everything felt perfect.

Matt squeezed Y/N’s hand.

"Merry Christmas, sweetheart."

"Merry Christmas." Y/N replied, leaning her head against his shoulder. They sat together, the glowing tree casting a warm light over the room, as snow continued to fall softly outside.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

merry christmas, lovelies ❤️

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caroldantops · 20 hours ago

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baby, it's cold outside

ship: dark!agatha harkness x female!reader

summary/request: darkfic; you're invited to agatha's christmas party, but you're afraid to make a move. lucky for you, agatha is more than willing to take things into her own hands.

word count: 3396

dead dove do not eat - this fic contains dark elements including rape/non-con, drugging, hints of victim blaming. proceed at your own discretion.

other warnings: non-magic au, smut (18+), top!agatha, praise, fingering (r receiving), oral (r receiving), light pain play (agatha slaps reader's body once), i think this qualifies as whump, pet names (darling, good girl, baby, and a couple more)

(I genuinely feel like I'm missing some important warnings so let me know if you think there's something i should add here)

masterlist | ao3 link

The wind practically knocks you over as you try to climb up the few stairs up Agatha’s porch. Christmas lights twinkle in the darkness, illuminating the snow that’s gently falling. Your mittens do little to block the cold, hands shaking as you reach up to knock on the door.

The fog from your breath hangs in the air as the door swings open. Alice greets you with a sweet smile. “Hey, you! You made it! Come in, come in, it’s freezing out here.”

“Thanks,” you smile, stepping in and sighing with relief as warmth envelops you. “I like your sweater.”

“Fun, right?” Alice closes the door behind you, posing so you can see her sweater in full. It has a cute silhouette of a witch on a broomstick, being pulled by a group of reindeer. “Kind of a mash-up of holidays. Speaking of outfits, you look amazing tonight.”

“I think I’m overdressed, to be honest,” you laugh as you shed your coat. You definitely regretted asking Jen of all people for outfit comparisons - she always overdressed for any occasion, and it made you lean towards a velvety black dress. Like Alice, it seems like the other guests milling around are dressed more casual. “Maybe I should just grab my sweatshirt from my car or something.”

“Don’t you dare,” Jen says as she approaches you. Seeing the sparkly, emerald green dress she’s wearing gives you a bit of relief. At least you don’t stand out the most here. Flying under the radar was usually your go-to. The only reason you even dared come to a party hosted by someone you barely know was from Jen and Alice convincing you that it would be fun.

Jen soon gets distracted by gossiping with Lilia, but Alice is kind enough not to abandon you. The party is actually pretty nice, despite your initial hesitance to even show up. There’s not very many people crammed into the house - just enough that it feels cozy and chatter fills the space.

The weather outside starts getting worse through the night, unbeknownst to you as you’re tucked into the cozy library with a few others who prefer the quieter atmosphere.

Though the night is still young, people have started slowly leaving, claiming that they want to get ahead of the inclement weather. You start to wonder if maybe you should leave a bit early as well, but Alice assures you that if it gets particularly bad, you can stay at her place since she’s much closer. So, you put that thought aside and just enjoy your evening.

While you’re telling Alice about a weird customer that keeps showing up at the coffee shop you work at, your eye catches a glimpse of the host for the first time tonight as she waltzes into the room.

Agatha Harkness. The older woman is dressed in a blood-red sweater and simple dress pants, some elegant rings and necklaces sparkling under the light. She’s talking to Jen and Lillia, the former of whom being the reason you even knew Agatha. You’d only talked a couple of times when Jen would drag Agatha along on a coffee run, but you’d always been a bit enamored with her beauty.

You weren’t even really sure what she did for work - and if your friends knew they’ve never filled you in. All you knew is that she was a very powerful woman, with very powerful connections. Even Jen, who was frankly unintimidated by most people, had to admit that Agatha was a bit scary.

What Agatha wanted, she got. And if something tried to stop her, there would be hell to pay.

Alice nudges you, giving you a knowing look.

“What?” You roll your eyes at her.

“You’re painfully obvious, you know that right?” Alice raises an eyebrow, a playful smile on her face. “Go say hi.”

“Well, I don’t want to interrupt their conversation…” The end of your sentence trails off as piercing blue eyes meet your gaze. Instincts tell you to look away, but some unknown feeling overrides that.

Time seems to stand still as you mull over how little you know Agatha and how much you’d like to know. She regards you, blatantly ignoring the conversation she’s supposed to be participating in. Eyes scanning you, calculating.

Maybe even hungry.

With that thought, you’re the first one to break, pulling out your phone to fake distraction. With your gaze now averted, you miss Agatha’s lips quirk up in a smirk. She watches as you turn back to Alice, clearly flustered, and clearly not intending on making any sort of move.

Lucky for you, she’s more than happy to take things into her own hands.

“Alice,” Agatha’s booming voice cuts through the noise of the party. Alice looks up as Agatha struts over, boots thumping on the floor with determined purpose. “Would you be a dear and keep those two from starting a karaoke session? They’re both about one glass of red away from breaking into Mariah Carey, and frankly I’d rather risk walking across a frozen lake right now.”

Alice rolls her eyes, but gets up to go make sure the others behave. Agatha sighs, plopping into the now empty seat next to you. Her nimble fingers trace the rim of the wine glass she’s been nursing. “Jen said you’d be coming.”

“Oh, she did?”

Stupid. Of course she did, she told you she would. In your nervous fumble, you reach for the drink Alice got you earlier. It’s remained almost untouched so far, but you’re desperate for an excuse to not talk.

And, in a true feat of spectacular coordination, you manage to knock it into your lap.

“Shit!” You groan.

“Oh, dear,” Agatha juts her lip out in sympathy. “On such a pretty dress too! Come on, I’ll help you clean up.”

You take a couple of napkins and blot ineffectively at the stain. “It’s okay, this is enough to dry it at least…”

“Nonsense,” Agatha scoffs, putting her own glass down and standing up. You look at her, puzzled as she just stands there, before you realize she’s expecting you to follow. She starts leading you through the house, down the halls that no guests were allowed in. “We don’t want that to leave a stain, I have a couple of things that should help.”

“Thank you, Agatha, really,” you say, trying not to analyze all the decor and photos that you pass as she leads you.

You end up being led down to the basement, carefully descending the creaky wooden stairs. The dwindling party can be heard above you, muffled music and footsteps reminding you that you’re not completely alone with Agatha.

Agatha shuffles some stuff around, looking through the bins near her washing machine. “Dear, do you have your phone on you? My eyes aren’t great in this darned dim basement light.”

You turn on the flashlight on your phone and pass it to her, waiting patiently as she rummages around. “Aha!”

Her grin is illuminated by the light of your phone, and you can’t help but smile - it’s infectious. She motions for you to come closer, turning on the nearby sink.

“Alright, give me your dress for a second.”

“What?” Your smile fades, and you recoil back in surprise.

“Your dress, it’ll be easier for me to clean if you just take it off,” Agatha says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. She analyzes your face, and you practically see the thoughts turning in her head as your own brain fumbles for what to do. “Here, one second.”

She grabs a couple of things from a laundry basket - a t-shirt and some sweatpants - and hands them to you. “Switch these out, and then I’ll clean your dress off.”

You nod, taking the clothing and changing as fast as you possibly can. Your head gets stuck in the shirt for a moment, and you miss the way Agatha’s eyes rake over your bare torso and lacy bra. As your head pops out, she quickly turns her attention to your dress, rinsing it and applying some cleaning product, rubbing the fabric gently in her hands.

“Ugh,” Agatha groans suddenly.

“What’s wrong? Not coming out?”

“No, the stain came out fine, but I think I wet it too much. It’s soaking, you can’t go out in this. I’ll hang it up to dry, but it’s gonna take a while,” Agatha ponders as she grabs a hanger. “You’re more than welcome to just keep those clothes for now.”

“Oh, okay,” you say, playing with the end of the shirt. You’re resisting the urge to rub your nose against the fabric - even after having been washed it seems to smell like Agatha. “Thanks again.”

“Of course, sweetheart, I’m happy to help,” Agatha beams. “I’m going to get this dress set up to dry, you go back upstairs and enjoy yourself. I’ll be right behind you.”

When you get back upstairs, you realize that most of the guests have left. In fact, it seems like it’s just your friends left. Even the neighbors who live just down the street have retired for the night.

Alice spots you approaching and sighs with relief. “There you are! I was trying to find you. I’m going to need to take Jen and Lilia home. They’re in no state to drive. What are you wearing?”

“Oh, I spilled my drink, Agatha’s hanging up my dress to dry,” you say, clearly embarrassed. Alice, the saint that she is, does not take the opportunity to tease you for being in Agatha’s clothes.

“Gotcha.” A loud thump comes from the other side of the room, and you both look over to see Jen picking Lilia up off the floor, both of them drunkenly giggling. Alice sighs, “You’re good to drive, right? They live on the opposite side of town from my place, so if you do need me to pick you up on my way back, just call me okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” you assure her. “I didn’t get a chance to drink anything before I spilled it on myself. I’m just going to thank Agatha for helping me out and then probably head out.”

“Okay, be safe. And seriously, call me if you need anything.”

“I will, I will,” you instinctively reach for your phone to see that it’s charged enough, but you realize you must have left it downstairs. The trio leaves in a whirlwind, and suddenly you’re left alone.

Well, not completely alone.

“Good grief, did everyone decide to do an Irish goodbye?” Agatha returns from the basement and immediately makes her way to the kitchen to make herself a drink. She sees you standing awkwardly and nods at the sofa. “Take a load off, honey. Your dress will probably at least be dry enough to wear comfortably in a little while. Might as well enjoy the fireplace while you wait.”

You hear her humming to herself from the other room, and you gaze contentedly at the crackling fire, curling your legs under you. The wind outside rattles the windows. You gasp as you look outside for the first time in a while. It’s started snowing so hard that it’s hard to see, and you can tell that it’s piling up on the streets.

“Shit, I should really try to get home,” you start to stand up, but a firm hand is placed on your shoulder, and a warm mug is shoved in your hand. You give Agatha a confused look as she sits next to you, a steaming mug in her own hand.

“Honey, it’s getting real bad out there. Alice said you live across town, yeah?” Agatha says, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “I think it’s a bit too late to try to start driving. Good thing is, the other ladies probably made it at least back to Lilia’s place by now. They’ll probably huddle up there for the night.”

“Yeah…How am I going to get home though?” You look at the drink Agatha handed you, realizing it’s not alcohol but hot chocolate, the top foamy with already melting whipped cream. You take a sip, sighing as the warmth fills your body.

As you ponder your options, you take a few more sips. Agatha wipes the whipped cream that catches on your upper lip with a napkin, and you’re suddenly acutely aware of how close she is. You kind of want to shift away, but your body feels heavy, and the way she’s looking at you has you paralyzed.

“Stay here,” Agatha whispers, breath dancing against your skin. “You can drive home in the morning once they clear the streets.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” you shake your head, taking another big sip of your drink, frowning as you realize you’ve almost hit the bottom. “I can figure something out…”

“Doubt any cabs are out tonight.”

“Seriously, Agatha, I appreciate the offer, but I should probably go,” you start to stand up, but are hit with a sudden dizziness, and immediately sit back down. “Woah…”

“You okay, baby?” Agatha asks, but her voice doesn’t sound concerned. Or surprised.

Your stomach churns a bit. The room feels like it’s spinning, and the lights all suddenly feel way too bright. “I don’t know. Was there alcohol in this drink?”

“Not a drop,” Agatha answers.

“I dunno what’s wrong then,” you mumble, your words are slurred. Desperately, you try to put the pieces together and figure out what’s wrong, but everything feels muddled now.

“Maybe you ate something bad earlier? Here, lay down on the couch, baby.”

When did she start calling you that? You try to respond, but the words come out too muddled to understand. Agatha guides you onto your back, your head resting on a throw pillow. All of your muscles feel simultaneously heavy and weak, and you need Agatha to guide you down so you don’t just flop like a fish.

“Agatha,” your word comes out as a strangled whine. “What’s happening?”

“It’s okay, I’m right here,” Agatha says, her voice deep. She’s hovering over you, and you feel a shudder run through your body as she hits you with that hungry look again.

Wait.

The only thing you’ve drank tonight was what Agatha made you, but…she wouldn’t have.

Right?

If your eyes didn’t feel so heavy, you’re sure they would’ve looked up at her wide in sudden realization. Nevertheless, it seems like she reads the change in expression on you, the shift from confusion to sudden fear. Agatha laughs, low and menacing.

“So cute. I was almost worried that I wouldn’t even get the chance. But thank god for the others leaving early, hm?” The shirt Agatha gave you is tugged up, and her thumb catches your bra as well, pulling both articles of clothing over your chest in one motion. You try to wiggle away with what little strength you have, but Agatha shifts quickly, straddling your thighs and keeping you in place.

“Pretty tits,” Agatha says, and you don’t know if she’s speaking to you or herself.

“Ag’tha.”

“Shh, darling. Just let it happen,” Agatha’s face hovers over yours, her pupils blown out and dark, and your stomach twists as you realize how much this is turning her on. Drugged and delirious, you’re at her complete mercy. And she couldn’t be happier. “I’m going to take such good care of you. I don’t break my toys. Not permanently, anyway.”

Agatha’s lips press against yours, and she doesn’t even care that you’re too weak to reciprocate. She grips your chin with one hand to keep you in place, her soft lips peppering your face with kisses. It would be sweet, in any other context. You’re sure that her shiny red lipstick is all over your face, and that it’s leaving a red trail as she drags her lips down your neck.

Her teeth sink in, and you give up your feeble attempts at fighting it. Agatha must feel you go completely limp (well, more limp than you already were), because she chuckles against your skin as she soothes the bite with her tongue.

“Good girl. So good when you let me give you what you need.”

The drugs in your system make it hard to register what’s happening. Agatha’s hands are on you, but you’re unable to keep up with every pinch and grope as she explores your body. A sharp tug of your nipples is enough to give you a jolt of awareness, and you moan pathetically in response, your body betraying you.

“Oh, you like being hurt?” Agatha tugs again and gives your tit a sharp slap as well. You groan, drool starting to drip from your lips. “Dirty girl. Bet your pussy is fucking wet too.”

She slips her hand under the waistband of your pants, nimble fingers finding your damp cunt. Her mouth opens in a dramatic gasp. “I was right! You like this, huh?”

You babble nonsense in response, your no’s coming out incoherently.

“What was that? You love it? Aw, baby, you flatter me,” Agatha kisses you again, not caring about the trail of drool on your cheek. She pushes her fingers into you, meeting some resistance as you’re not quite wet enough to take her so quickly. Your hips twist as the feeling of her fingers dragging against the walls of your cunt makes you flinch. “Take it, take it like a good girl for me. This is what you wanted, right? You were so obvious, with all that staring and how nervous you got around me. You were practically begging for this.”

“Don’t…”

“Found your voice again, it seems. Probably not for long.” Agatha clicks her tongue, shrugging as she shuffles down your body, tugging your pants down enough that your cunt is exposed. She kisses down your mound, groaning as she reaches her prize. Nose nudging your clit, she inhales your scent and moans, the vibrations close enough that your clit throbs in response. “Fuck.”

All the sensations are reduced to vague feelings as Agatha starts to lick you in earnest. Warm. Wet. Feels good. Darkness clouds your vision as you start slipping in and out of consciousness. Fingers again, prodding at your hole. Thrusting in, curling, working you better than anyone ever has. When did she slip a third finger in?

“Come on, baby, want you to cum all over my fingers,” She mumbles against your clit before flattening her tongue against it, fingers curling against your sensitive walls again.

Your body shudders, but you can’t even tell if it was an orgasm. The woman you’ve been lusting after is fucking you through climax, and you’re not even going to remember it. Maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll forget this whole thing. Or at least enough to deny it.

Because as fucked up as it is, some pathetic, yearning part of you still wants Agatha. She’s drugged and taken advantage of you, yet there’s a part of you hoping that this isn’t a one time situation, that she’ll still want you when you’re fully awake and able to enjoy yourself.

God, there’s not enough therapy in the world to even start to tackle that, you think.

Suddenly you realize you’re crying, salty tears hitting your tongue as you breathe heavily. Agatha crawls back up your body, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Baby, it’s okay, it’s okay. We’re done. You did so, so good for me.”

“Good?”

“Yes, very good,” Agatha kisses the tears from your cheeks. She rearranges your clothes so that you won’t get cold, and pulls a blanket off the back of the couch to drape over both of you. The position is awkward, since you can’t really move much, but she manages to squeeze herself into a space where she can hold you. “C’mere, darling. You took that so well. Let me hold you, pretty.”

“Aggie,” you mumble against her skin when she pulls you against her chest, unable to conjure her full name.

“Yes?” Agatha hums, stroking your hair.

“Why?”

Silence falls over the two of you for a moment as Agatha lets the question hang in the air. You can feel her heart thumping, feel the way her hands stroke soothing circles into your skin. The last thing you hear before you finally fall into a deep sleep is her voice.

“Darling, I always get what I want.”

#agatha harkness x reader #darkfic #dark!agatha harkness #rape tw #noncon tw #drugging tw #c: agatha #silver writes #merry christmas everyone have a rape fic #is this the heaviest ive written? i think it is #maybe the uhhh nancy fic i wrote for one kinktober is similar in intensity

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cyberhughes · 2 days ago

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— 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ jack hughes

chapter 6: jealousy, jealousy.

last chapter | next chapter

*:･✧* 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: jack hughes x fem!oc

*:･✧* 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: ANGST, swearing, jealousy jack raising his voice at naomi (FUCK YOU JACK!!), drinking to number the pain, jack just being the worlds biggest asshole tbh

𝓐𝓾𝓽��𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮: i’m so sorry for whats about to happen in this chapter lmfao😞 but thank you all sm for the likes and reblogs and overall support!! i love you all sm and it makes me happy to see that you guys are enjoying the series so far🫶🫶

series masterlist + character intros

anxiety bubbled up in naomi’s chest as she stared at herself in the mirror, applying her blush as she got ready for trevor’s party. thoughts of the other night with jack overwhelmed her mind, and while yasmin had told her it seemed fine, that she didn’t wreck anything, naomi had a strong feeling that she had affected hers and jack’s friendship.

she replayed his laughter and shock as she asked him if they could truly be a couple. hell, it wasn’t like the constant flirting was one sided, so why did he react as if it was completely out of the question?

after that night she immediately started to overthink everything, thinking that maybe her and jack’s friendship was too much, and that she was preventing him from finding someone he could really love, without feeling ashamed.

“babe, you okay?” yasmin had already finished getting ready and was sitting on naomi’s bed scrolling through tiktok when she noticed the girl being more silent than usual. naomi looked up at yasmin through her mirror, nodding and immediately smiling, not wanting her friend to be concerned. “yeah, i’m just locking in, my makeup needs to look really good.” yasmin knew better than that though.

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“WHATS UP FUCKERS!” naomi and yasmin and barely stepped through the door before being greeted by an already drunk trevor. “dude, what the fuck are you wearing?” naomi snickered as she eyes trevors choice of clothing, or lack thereof. he was sporting a pair of blue shorts with a rubber duck pattern all over, a cowboy hat, and an upside down pair of sunglasses, no shirt of course.

“my party fit, duh.” he ruffled both of the girls hair and they swatted him away. before they could continue a conversation, he was being called by a group of guys further into the house. “duty calls, drinks are in the kitchen i’ll see you hoes later!” and without any further delay he ran off hollering. “my god he is so cooked.” the two girls giggled before making their way to the kitchen to get a drink.

“hey so did you end up inviting james?” yasmin cocked a brow as she poured a mystery drink from the punch bowl into red solo cups for the two of them. “uh yeah, i told him and he said he might swing by for a bit.” yasmin nodded at naomi’s words before finishing off the drinks and handing one to her. taking a sip, naomi scanned the house, looking for one person in particular. before she could finish looking around her phone dinged from inside her pocket. yasmin peered over her shoulder, letting out a small chuckle as she read the name on naomi’s screen. “speak of the devil.” james had arrived to the house and was waiting outside, nervous about going in by himself. “you go get him, i’ll go find luke or something.” naomi nodded as they split up.

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“looking good james.” naomi approached him on the front yard and he smiled. “hey, sorry i was nervous about going in, i don’t really know anyone.” he blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “you’re good. cole is actually really excited to see you again.” she laughed and led him inside the house.

“oh wow, it’s packed in here.” he stood in shock as he observed the amount of people that filled the house, similar to those parties that would only happen in movies. they weaved their way through the groups of people, trying to find the rest of naomi’s friends. “oh i see them, come on let me reintroduce you to them.” she grabbed his hand and walked towards them.

“JAMES MY GUY!” cole had the widest smile as he stepped towards the boy, going to dap him him. “what’s up cole?” he laughed. “guys this is james, he was at my birthday.” she gestured towards the boy as they all gave their greetings. “this is yasmin, quinn, luke, i think trevor is playing beerpong, and uh…” she trailed off when she noticed that jack wasn’t there. “oh. where’s jack?” she looked towards his brothers. “i think bathroom.” quinn shrugged and luke nodded in agreement. yasmin looked over at the unease on her best friends face and opted to switch the topic. “so! who wants to go watch trevor lose at beer pong?”

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jack was making his way to the backyard after going to the bathroom, some random blonde following right beside him and yapping his ear off. he originally had left to clear his head because his brother’s and trevor had been bugging him about naomi. the conversation mostly consisting of the other guys calling him an idiot while he sulked in embarrassment. he felt really bad about the other night, he hadn’t even reached out to naomi because he was scared he could make things weird.

he had bumped into this girl on the way out of the washroom, muttering a quick apology but she stopped him from walking away, “hey, you’re jack right? I’ve seen you around.” and she’s been following him around since.

he thought his head might explode if he listened to her talk about how she was super into guys that played hockey. he felt relief as he spotted trevor and cole playing beer pong, aching to get away from this girl. “hey listen uh…” he racked his brain trying to remember her name. madison? malorie? fuck if he knew, he just wanted to make an excuse and get out of there.

as he stalled trying to remember her name, his gaze shifted onto naomi who stood beside quinn and…james? she actually invited him? he felt a slight twinge of jealousy as she watched naomi hold onto his bicep to stable herself as she laughed at the game that was going on in front of them.

“uhm, jack what were you saying?” his attention turned back to the blonde beside him. he looked back at naomi and saw that she seemed to be having so much fun with james and so he sighed, facing the blonde again. “do you want to get a drink?” he offered, not sounding very enthusiastic but the blonde ignored his tone, nodding her head. clearly she only wanted one thing from him.

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an hour or two had passed by, and naomi had yet to see jack. she was currently standing in the backyard with james, catching up on a few things and talking about their interests. naomi had learned that her and james actually had quite a lot in common, from the foods they enjoyed to their favourite movies. the conversation had taken a comfortable pause, the two simply just people watching, a habit they also shared. as she analyzed the different groups of people, imagining what their conversations could be about, her eyes fell through the kitchen window and spotted jack…talking to some girl she had never seen before.

her stomach churned, the girl was beautiful. she had her platinum blonde hair curled—not too perfectly, just messy enough. she had the perfect tanned skin and cutest outfit and naomi could feel herself frowning. she watched as jack let the girl caress his arm and whisper something in his ear. a small smirk on his face as he sipped his drink.

she turned her attention back to james, and he was already staring at her. “sorry,” he grinned at being caught admiring her. “you’re just pretty.” she smiled at his compliment, saying a small thank you. “you know, as much as my aunt is a pain, i’m glad she introduced us.” he admitted and naomi nodded in agreement. “yeah, i’m glad too.” was all she said as she noticed how his eye’s flickered to her lips. maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the fact that jack was currently in the kitchen being felt up by a random girl, but she found herself leaning in, mirroring james. her eyes fluttered closed as they made contact, his hand reaching up to hold her face. her heart banged in her chest, but it wasn’t beating with any passion. the only thing that crossed her mind as she kissed james was, jack.

she didn’t know when she had fully come to the realization that her feelings for jack had extended deeper than a friendship. sure she’s said some suggestive things but he reciprocated them, always in a joking manner. she didn’t want it to be a joke anymore, she wanted him.

“i’m sorry…” she pulled away and tears welled in her eyes. james eyes widened as he watched her expression turn into one of sadness. “i can’t, i’m sorry.” she took a breath, trying to figure out what to say next, not wanting to hurt james. “jack.” he spoke for her and she bit her lip, nodding. “that’s okay, i kinda had a feeling there was something deeper there.” he watched the tears reach the surface and fall onto her cheeks. “hey, you’re okay come here.” he pulled her in for a hug, smoothing her hair with his hands. her breathing was jagged as she spoke, “i’m sorry, i don’t know why i’m crying. i think i’m just scared.” scared of what exactly? that her feelings were real, meaning she could get her heartbroken? james hushed her, telling her she didn’t need to explain. “it’s okay, don’t cry. you just gotta tell him, i don’t know how he could ever turn you down.” he pulled away, hands on her shoulders as she nodded, gaining her composure. she’d go and tell him, for real this time.

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jack had been entertaining this blonde for the past thirty minutes, surprisingly finding a few of her jokes to be a little funny, but was now starting to get fed up when she got too touchy. he didn’t want her hands on him, he wanted naomi’s.

“okay, fuck sorry but i gotta go.” he didn’t wait for a response before ditching her to go find naomi. he weaved through the groups of people, asking if any of them had seen her. after getting very useless responses, he found cole and trevor and they had told him they saw her in the backyard with james. his stomach churned at the thought of her being with james, and he pushed his way to the backyard.

he scanned the yard, seeing yasmin and his brothers chatting with some people. the backyard was a mess. red solo cups everywhere, chips scattered and people running around like headless chickens laughing at god knows what. his gaze finally fell onto naomi and he felt his breathing stop.

was that really her? he took a small step closer, feeling his heart shatter as her features became clearer. there she was, being kissed by someone that wasn’t him. his friends had been wrong, she really was joking this whole time. she didn’t want him, if she did she wouldn’t have her lips locked on someone else. as his mind raced with thoughts, his sadness turned into anger. he ran his hands through his hair before walking back into the house, shaking his head. how could he be so fucking stupid?

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after her conversation with james, naomi had ran into the house looking for jack. she was going to tell him she was tired of pretending, tired of the jokes, and that she wanted to be with him. she spotted him in the kitchen pouring himself a drink and she sighed with relief, approaching him.

“hey jack!” she jogged up to him and he looked up at her. she flinched when he locked eyes with her, a look in his eyes she had never seen before. cheeks flushed from the alcohol with a look in his eyes that could have been mistaken for hatred. “are you okay?” she paused her initial thought to confess, to question why he had looked like that. “just peachy.” he gave a fake smile and her stomach dropped. “what’s wrong with you?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper. “whats wrong with me? what’s wrong with you?” he let out a dry chuckle and her eyes widened with shock.

quinn, luke and the rest of their friends had been standing not too far away, their attention turning to the kitchen as they heard jack’s question laced with venom.

“don’t look confused naomi. i saw you.” he rolled his eyes and took a sip of his drink. she furrowed her brows, racking her brain for what he could have seen her do. then it clicked. he had saw the kiss. panick set in as she stammered trying to explain the situation. “no, it wasn’t-“ before she could even start explaining her cut her off. “wasn’t what? tell me. did you kiss him and then tell him you were joking? did you lie to him? cause you’re pretty fucking good at that, naomi.” tears fell from her eyes, she felt sick. why wouldn’t he let her explain? “why are you being mean?” her lips quivered and he ran a hand through his hair, letting out a laugh. “and i thought you wanted me. that whole thing in the car? i thought you were hinting at something. i guess one guy isn’t enough for you huh?”

“hey what the fuck is your problem?” quinn didn’t let him continue, marching towards his younger brother. luke, trevor, cole and yasmin following right behind

jack didn’t pay any mind, and continued spewing venomous words out of his mouth. “i thought you wanted me but i was wrong, because now that he’s here, you didn’t waste a second before you tried to fuck him—“ he was stopped by quinn grabbing him by the collar of shirt and pushing him against the wall. “don’t.” was all quinn said, the glare in his eyes saying far more than words ever could. jack’s eyes fell back onto naomi. eyes red and a river of tears flowing down her cheeks. then it sank in, what the fuck was he even saying? it felt as if all the poison that made him act the way he did had been drained away from his body after seeing the pain in her eyes. “fuck you, jack.” she spat before running out of the house. oh god, what did he just do?

do you guys hate me or what LMFAOOO

#jack hughes #jack hughes fanfic #jack hughes x reader #luke hughes #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #quinn hughes #jack hughes fanfiction #nhl imagine #cole caufield #trevor zegras #jh86

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liveyun · 2 days ago

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die with a smile | jjk

pairing. Jeon jungkook x fem/gn reader

genre. neighbours au, fluff, slice of life, light humor, slow-burn

rating. pg

warnings. late-night karaoke, mild annoyance, OC being conflicted and awkward, unspoken feelings, lots of staring at Jungkook (because who wouldn’t), implied military enlistment, OC lowkey simping (let’s be honest), “english isn’t my first language,” + not proofread, yearning . . .

wc. 1.7k +

🎧 die with a smile | bruno mars and lady gaga

The third night of incessant singing is where you finally draw the line.

You sit at your tiny kitchen table, surrounded by papers, half-drunk cups of tea, and the beginnings of a tension headache.

From the apartment next door, his voice—smooth, clear, and . . . warm — reaches you in a wave of melodies. He’s been singing for nearly two hours now, moving seamlessly from upbeat pop songs to heart-wrenching OSTs — with such ease and precision, you nearly feel both envy and frustration at how good he is and how he’s giving you his free performance at 3 AM.

You would’ve been impressed if you weren’t one sleepless night away from filing a formal complaint.

Your walls are thin. Your apartment is small. Every belt, falsetto, and perfectly sustained note crashes into your eardrums. You’ve stuffed pillows over your ears, slammed doors, and even loudly coughed against your shared wall, hoping he’d get the hint — but the man next door seems tireless . . . like a karaoke marathon champion who’s going to audition for the next survival show over some drinks at a restaurant.

Tonight’s song finishes with a flourish, and you hear a muffled sound of giggles — his own, perhaps — through the walls.

“Unbelievable,” you mutter under your breath, aggressively thumbing through your phone. Your irritation fuels you as you type up a complaint email for the building management, every sentence laced with righteous annoyance. You don’t think you’d care if they have any errors. You pause for a moment, fingers hovering over the send button.

“Maybe it’s just one of those guys. Moved in a month ago, right?” The voice of the kind old lady with her cute cat from the next block pops into your head. Earlier that day in the park, she’d casually informed you that your mysterious, musically obsessed neighbor was on a brief four-day vacation. “Poor boy — been serving his time in the army and just came to rest a little. He sings, you know. A real singer.”

You’d blinked at her words. “Wha. . . singer? Like… famous?”

The lady had shrugged. “Famous or not, his voice is beautiful.”

You remember standing frozen on the sidewalk, feeling guilt bubble in your chest.

That’s why you don’t send the complaint.

The clock reads 3:49 AM when the familiar, too-loud melody begins once again.

This time, you snap.

Throwing on your cardigan, you march to your front door and storm into the dimly lit hallway. Standing outside his apartment, your fist hovers above the door, second-guessing yourself for a beat. But then you hear him laughing — a soft, boyish laugh — and irritation wins out. You knock twice, firm and loud.

The door opens.

You’re unprepared for the man on the other side.

He’s wearing a black beanie, tugged low over his forehead, and an oversized black T-shirt that falls to his elbows. Tattoos trail like brushstrokes down his arm, stark and beautiful against his skin. His large eyes blink at you in surprise, framed by lashes so unfairly long they could sweep the floor. The corners of his lips lift into an easy, almost mischievous smile, deep dimples appearing like magic.

You falter.

This isn’t fair. Someone who sings like that should not also look like this. He looks. . . cute. Boyish. Innocent. But so undeniably attractive that you have to clear your throat because now you’re hyper aware that this man is nearly towering over you.

“Uh…” Your frustration stutters as you search for words. “Hi. I, uh—I live next door. And it’s 4 AM.”

“Yeah?” His voice, now spoken rather than sung, is just as soft and warm as you imagined. He tilts his head, curiosity dancing in his expression, his eyes wide like boba. “Something wrong?”

You blink at him, feeling ridiculous now that you’re standing here. “It’s just…your singing. It’s, um, loud.”

“Oh!” His eyes widen, and he steps back as though caught red-handed. “I didn’t realize. I’m so sorry.”

The immediate sincerity in his voice makes you feel like you’ve kicked a puppy.

“It’s fine,” you add quickly, backpedaling. “It’s just…the walls here are thin, and I’m not. . . uh, I’m not really used to it.”

His smile returns, shy. “I get it. I’ve been singing too much, huh? I just…” He scratches the back of his neck, sheepish now. “I haven’t had time to unwind in a while. Didn’t mean to bother you.”

His honesty throws you off balance. You glance past him into his apartment, catching a glimpse of his karaoke setup—a small mic stand surrounded by crumpled lyric sheets and snack wrappers. And a big. . . calculator. . . .? The space is much bigger than yours but still homely, lit warmly in contrast to the sterile hallway.

“You…you’re really good, though,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

He looks surprised for a moment, before the edges of his smile soften. You don’t even know this guy, but his smile seems genuine. Sincere. “Thanks. . . That means a lot.”

Silence stretches between you. You’re suddenly acutely aware of how he’s gazing at you — like he’s studying you just as much as you’re studying him.

“You know,” he says at last, teasing but gentle, “I could sing quieter if you have any requests.”

You snort involuntarily, the tension breaking. “I think I’d rather you not sing at all.”

He laughs at that—a full, bright laugh that tugs at something in your chest. “Fair enough.”

. . . ♡ 🐰 ♡ . . .

To your surprise, he sticks to his word.

That night, his singing drops to a near whisper. You can still hear it faintly through the walls — although, the song is more of a soft rock, but his voice is soothing. Sweet. Strangely, it doesn’t bother you anymore.

If anything, you find yourself listening a little too intently, sleep now long forgotten as you find yourself smiling so widely that your cheeks hurt.

I, I just woke up from a dream

Where you and I had to say goodbye

And I don't know what it all means

But since I survived, I realized

The next morning, as you head out for coffee, you bump into him again in the hallway.

This time, he’s wearing the same beanie and a plain hoodie, duffle bag slung over his shoulder. He grins when he sees you, lifting a hand in greeting, but his grin doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Oh,” you say, stopping in your tracks. “You’re leaving?”

And there it is—that faint smile, shy yet playful, tugging at the corner of his lips. Except this time, he’s fidgeting with it, thumb grazing the skin as though he’s used to something being there. A piercing, maybe. Did he have one before? You hadn’t asked but for some reason, the gesture makes him look a little younger, a little more uncertain.

“Yeah,” he says softly, adjusting the strap of his bag. “Heading back.”

His voice carries none of the energy that used to spill through the thin walls, none of the stubborn joy that once kept you awake at night.

And somehow, it bothers you more than the loud singing ever did.

You shift awkwardly, trying to think of something to say—anything that doesn’t sound as silly as it feels in your head. “That’s… soon. I mean, it’s only been a few days.”

He chuckles lightly, the sound soft and self-deprecating. “Time flies, huh?” His thumb is at his lip again, a nervous habit that seems almost out of place on someone like him. “Guess I didn’t get to bother you enough before I left.”

“I didn’t hate it,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. Your voice falters, quieter now. “The . . . singing, I mean.”

He looks at you then, really looks at you, his dark eyes catching yours in a way that makes your breath hitch. You try to read them, but you can barely even look at them — thanks to his beanie pulled low.

“Well,” he says after a pause, his voice low and warm, “I’m glad to hear that.”

He nods — and turns slightly, as if to leave, and your chest tightens. You open your mouth — hesitate — and then, before you can think twice, the word slips out.

Wherever you go, that's where I’ll follow

Nobody's promised tomorrow

“Wait.”

He stops immediately, turning back almost instantly with a flicker of hope in his gaze, like he’d been waiting for you to say it. His eyes seem to sparkle, a boyish anticipation lighting his features, and you feel your stomach twist.

Your hands feel clammy as you extend one awkwardly. “Uhh, I— I never introduced myself. I’m ____.”

He stares at your outstretched hand for a moment before breaking into the kind of grin that crinkles the corners of his eyes. The kind of grin that could make you forget the world for a moment.

“Jungkook,” he says simply, taking your hand in his. His grip is warm, firm, and entirely too brief, but it leaves a strange warmth spreading through you. His hands are slightly rough - but they feel pleasant. “Hi again.”

You nod, feeling a little silly but unable to pull your gaze from his. For a second, your chest tightens with an inexplicable urge to step closer, to wrap your arms around him. . .

Wait. Where did that come from?

So I’ma love you every night like it's the last night

Like it's the last night

But before you can really think of what you’re thinking — he lets go of your hand, stepping back with another small smile.

“Well, I should go,” he says, voice soft but final. His grin lingers, playful but tinged with something else, something quieter. “Take care, ____.”

He turns, and then he’s really gone. Leaving you standing in the hallway with your hand still half-raised, the warmth of his touch lingering like a ghost against your skin, the muscle near your left eye twitching and a weird feeling wrapping around your chest.

When you finally retreat to your apartment, the silence feels impossibly loud.

You sink onto your couch, hugging a pillow to your chest, and wonder if his hand had felt as warm as yours had—or if it’s just your imagination playing tricks on you.

If the world was ending, I’d wanna be next to you

If the party was over and our time on Earth was through

I’d wanna hold you just for a while and die with a smile

If the world was ending, I’d wanna be next to you

#jungkook fluff #bts x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts fluff #bts fanfic #jungkook romance #bts romance #bts x you #bts au #bts fics #jungkook x you #jungkook imagine #bts imagines #jungkook scenarios #bts #btswritersclub #illuminated ocean.net

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suzukiblu · 2 days ago

Text

Day twenty-three of “Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it” behind the cut. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“I realize I am not letting this one go, but what do you think, are you more into the barbell look or should we put a ring on it?” Bernard muses, giving both his nipples a meaningful pinch as he does, and then a tight little twist. Kon isn’t actually sure if it’s more embarrassing to have someone pay so much attention to a part of his body that most of his other partners haven't, or if it’s more embarrassing how affected he is by the attention. How affected he is by the idea, even.

“Told you I was the kept boy type, man, c’mon,” he says, trying for a laugh as he says it, and Bernard grins at him and cups his pecs and pushes them up a little bit again. Kon tightens his grip on his ass like–a reflex, maybe, or maybe more like a response–and lifts his cheeks a little bit more too. Bernard probably doesn’t, like, see that or anything, but–but it’s kind of embarrassing to realize, and he knows, like–obviously Tim saw, but since he’s straight behind him maybe he didn’t realize it was, like–like why he . . .

“Yeah, so what if we kept you?” Bernard asks, his grin turning sly, and Kon stops overthinking because he is suddenly literally just incapable of thinking. That–that is–

It doesn’t help that he heard Tim’s heartbeat accelerate when Bernard said that.

“Just saying, libido like yours, you’d do better if you were doing the kept boy thing for a couple,” Bernard mentions casually, since it’s apparently blatantly obvious that Kon is likelier to fall off his dick and also the bed than string together a coherent reply right now. “Or, you know, just getting regularly gangbanged by an entire superhero team, but that seems harder to arrange on the daily, you know? Like, more a special occasions kind of thing.”

“I–you–” Kon attempts, face blushing and gut burning as his hips stutter, and Bernard just keeps up the light, easy chatter like he’s not literally on the guy's dick right now.

“Like normally I’d suggest the Birds of Prey or just any Amazon expats, obviously, but right now I guess you’d be more into . . . I dunno, Young Justice’s always seemed pretty femme-heavy and I feel like Tim would have some weird feelings about letting Batman Inc borrow you, so maybe see about meeting yourself a few nice Titans?” Bernard suggests, squeezing his pecs again; rubbing and massaging at the muscle for a few moments. Kon is pretty sure he’d be boiling in the literal vacuum of space, hot as he suddenly feels. “Or maybe check if anybody in the Green Lantern Corps has some job-related stress to work out? Or like, what’re the Outsiders up to these days, actually, that’s also–”

“Please,” Kon half-chokes, not even sure what he’s asking for, and Bernard takes his hands off his chest to wrap an arm around his waist and tug him in closer against himself, which isn’t even something the guy’s actually physically capable of doing but also isn’t something Kon is any kind of capable of not letting him do, and then wraps his other arm up around his neck to grip the back of it, and Kon somehow ends up less riding the other and more just–just rocking a little bit in his lap, pulled down fully onto his cock and just–just full of it. All of it. Just–all of it, while Bernard coaxes him into just–just barely rolling their hips together over and over and . . .

“How’s that, boy?” Bernard asks, scruffing the back of his neck again. “Comfy?”

Five seconds before the first time Bernard fucked him Kon would absolutely not have had any concept of having a dude’s entire dick up his ass be something that could count as “comfy”, but right now . . .

“Don’t pull out,” he half-pleads, half just begs, and Bernard tugs his head down just enough to let him press a kiss against his temple and squeezes the arm around his waist again; rolls his hips up again. Kon stifles a whimper.

“Naw, not gonna,” Bernard promises. “Not ‘til you’ve come again, at least.”

“Not even then,” Kon half-mumbles, feeling a little bit–dizzier, kind of, every time Bernard’s nails scritch the back of his neck; slumping down heavier into him without really meaning to or anything. “Please? Please just lemme keep it a little longer? Feels so–feels so good, makes me feel like you want me.”

“Aw, of course I want you, boy,” Bernard coos, and then just starts petting him outright. “You’re super cute. Super fun to pet-sit, too. And I already told you you could cuddle my cock if you wanted, didn’t I?”

“Wanna,” Kon pleads, feeling all warm and melty and heavy and barely remembering to roll his hips in counter to Bernard’s; barely remembering to keep his hands on his ass where the other put them. “Wanna–lemme cuddle it, lemme cuddle you, I’ll be a good boy, promise, promise, promise–”

“‘Course you will, boy,” Bernard hums, rubbing a flat palm up the underside of his fade. “Robin told you to be, didn’t he?”

Kon melts.

#timberkon #konbern #timkon #timbern #kon el #conner kent #bernard dowd #tim drake #superboy #dc robin #wip: think pink #dom/sub

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maxybabyy · 1 day ago

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an unfortunate habit of sleeping with the elves is absolutely sending me im giggling so bad

happy holidays to you and yours, anon 😘

Inspired by the tags on this post.

Maxiel: Dirtbag Daniel, twinky Max, mature, 957 words

“It’s just two of you this year, but I take it that’s fine with you,” Seb says and shoves the suit into Daniel’s arms. Red and sweaty with an under-note of alcohol that probably shouldn’t be around kids. “Try not to fuck the elf, will you? Or at least don’t do it on company fucking property.”

Daniel tuts, “Learned from the best, mate.”

Seb shoots him a glare like the two of them didn’t make Christmas come early for Mrs. Claus three years ago.

“Just, please,” Seb stresses, and Daniel thinks maybe the promotion was a mistake after all. There’s too much tension in his shoulders now, wrinkles where they shouldn’t be. And there’s no fucking way Lewis will look at him twice if he loses more hair. “Anyway, it’s a guy this time, so maybe that will stop you.”

Daniel hasn’t really dabbled much with guys outside the occasional handjob when a threesome had gone wrong, so it does put a damper on his plan but Seb doesn’t have to know that. He could have changed in the past years, sucked a cock or fucked that twink who always blushes when he comes by to unclog his mother’s drain. Probably wouldn’t go over well with the mister, fucking both his son and his wife. But like, Daniel could have done it.

“And happy fucking holidays to you too, Sebastian,” Daniel tells him and pushes open the door to the changing room. “See you on new years.”

There’s the whoosh of the door closing behind him and then -

“Oh, hello,” someone says, halfway down the bench. “I am Max. I will of course be your elf.”

Daniel doesn’t move, stays rooted in his spot by the door as he watches Max stare up at him with a wide smile.

He’s young, way too fucking young, and that’s not usually a problem for Daniel, but this is just fucking indecent.

His face is all sharp angles, the recent loss of baby fat obvious, and the fatness of his lips makes him look obscene, tongue poking out to leave behind a sheen of spit.

It probably does nothing for how fucked up his lips are, cracked from the wind and cold weather, and Daniel has half a mind to throw him the menthol lip balm Michelle makes him carry around. Instead what he wants is to run his tongue over his lip, suck it into his mouth until whatever energy drink he probably gargled down before coming here is soaked into his taste buds.

Max is still bent over the bench, one foot shoved into the same sheer tights of green and red that Daniel has diligently peeled of the other elves before he fucked them. The same thigh-length dress has been thrown to the floor with no considerations for Max’s obvious dick-situation, which -

“No underwear mate?” Daniel blurts out.

He has a side view of Max, but it’s so fucking obvious how cheeked-up he is from the lack of boxers. The pale skin of his thighs and ass is dusted with fine, blonde hair, and Daniel is almost sure the carpet matches too.

Which, you know, still begs the question of why the cradle-robbee is fucking naked in a mall locker room.

“What?” The kid says and straightens up, both feet dropping to the ground. He looks ridiculous like that, Donald Duck-ing it in his Stanford varsity soccer shirt and nothing else. “Oh, you think -“

Daniel drops down to sit on the bench, hands held up placatingly, “Hey man, you do you, yeah? Just, we’re gonna be around kids, so.”

He’s not the one catching a case if his ass falls over. Seb’s gonna be livid, but that’s not -

Max hikes his shirt, bunched up under the swell of his pecs to show off a distressingly small waist, moles scattered across pale skin. His stomach is flat, trim muscles with just the tiniest curve to his hips, and even if it hadn’t been for the shirt, the yellowed knees are clear signs of his time on the field.

But that’s not -

There’s a band around his waist, just the tiniest slip of cloth over his dick, and Daniel almost thinks he’s wearing a thong, but matching pieces of elastic frame the swell of his ass on either side.

It reminds Daniel of high school varsity sports, of communal showers and coming down the drain when everyone but Scotty and him had left.

Because the kid is wearing a fucking jock strap, and Daniel doesn’t think his mouth has ever been this dry.

“With the tights, I thought of course it would be better like this,” Max says and turns around, shows off his ass and how his shirt falls over it. “Always you cannot see the lines like this.”

He pulls the fabric tight over his ass, and like, the kid is right, but like, Daniel is so clearly not looking for the seams of his fucking underwear like this. His hands twitch in his lap to keep himself from reaching out, touching the swell of his ass.

Daniel thinks, maybe if he curves his palm just right, he could probably hold a cheek in each hand. Fingers spread wide so his thumbs would fall just on the insides of his thighs, barely a slip away from being inside Max.

“Cool,” Daniel says hoarsely.

His knees creak when he stands up but he’s too busy staring at the kid staring back at him to care. So obviously looking for something else, something more, that Daniel doesn’t know what he is supposed to do but reach out and slap his ass.

Max’s breath hitches, the skin of his ass turns scarlet, and Daniel burns with it.

“Well done, kid.”

#maxiel #maxiel fic #max/daniel #I wrote this on the train home so there’s no betaing done #happy holidays #my writing

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just-a-sewer-goblin · 7 hours ago

Text

Collars Of Duty 4

MalinoisHybrid!Simon x reader

- Chapter 3 - (Chapter 5)

Simon's gone and you're left to deal with his sudden absence. But maybe it's not all over yet.

~ 8,3k Words

Content (might contain spoilers): reader being mean to themselves in their thoughts, hybrid AU, mention of past injury, hints at past attack, mentions of therapy, biting, blood

A.N: I messed with the COD timeline here. I know that some of the things I mention don't happen during this time and don't fit with the canon but it's my AU so shush. Curious if you lot catch the cameo. Have fun. Also not my best chapter but I poured a lot of heart, time and effort into it.

It’s been almost a week since Simon’s transport back to England. A week that you’ve spent at home again. The day you arrived at work to find Simon gone you went back to medical leave. Now as you sit on your couch and look out through your living room window you wonder if that was the best decision.

Simon’s sudden absence left you hollower than you anticipated. You spent barely a week by his side, most of which he was unconscious. So how come you care so damn much already?

You go through your usual routine. Making food, going outside, meeting friends, attending therapy, working on your mind and body. You do everything you did the past few weeks that helped you get back to your feet after Phillip but the worry for Simon won’t fade. It’s always there in the back of your head, a nagging feeling that leaves you thinking about him way more than you probably should.

Is he okay? Are they taking good care of him? Do they take it slow and take his trauma and needs into consideration? Does he have a handler that knows how to help him? How are his wounds?

You feel silly for caring so much about the large hybrid but another pitiful part of you whispers that it might prove that you’re a good person. Caring so much about someone you barely know surely proves that you have a good heart.

Then there’s another part that admonishes you for thinking that. No truly good person would think about whether their actions or thoughts make them a good person and you grow ashamed again. You try to shove all those thoughts somewhere in a corner of your mind where you don’t have to hear them constantly. The back and forth driving you insane without coming up with any conclusive answer.

You worry about him. That’s how it is. You care There is nothing you can do to change that except try not to think about him so much. But honestly you don’t want to stop thinking about him. Something about Simon struck your heart and you feel the need to figure out what.

You sigh as you nurse your mug with your favourite hot beverage in it, taking another slow sip savoring the taste. Has Simon ever had a drink like this? You sigh. Here you go again, thinking about the malinois hybrid without pause.

You let your head fall back against the backrest of the couch, staring at the ceiling. When did your home start feeling more like a self inflicted prison? There’s a restlessness growing in you. It’s starting deep in your stomach and spreads its way through your limbs making you bounce your knee until you almost spill your drink jerking your head back up to safe it at the last second.

Why did you go back to medical leave? You had been more than willing to return for Simon’s case. But as soon as he left you went back home like a snail hiding in it’s shell. You rest your elbows on your knees and let your head hang forward the muscles of your neck stretching uncomfortably.

You’re a damn coward. Resting at home. It doesn’t feel like healing anymore it feels like you’re running away. Running from the center and all the hybrids it houses. You hate it, hate Phillip for ruining all dog hybrids with just one attack. Why does he have the power to make you afraid of all of them. It’s not fair.

Do the others think you’re a coward as well? Hiding at home again after you came back for a week. What is management thinking? That you could return for an emergency but not for the relative calmness of every day? What will happen if you don’t come back quick enough for them? Will you lose your job? Would they actually fire you over something like this?

Just like that sitting at home feels like wasted time. Every minute spent on your couch is a minute you could be working and trying to get over your fear. And suddenly your certain that you have to return to work if you want to make further progress.

Additionally to your sudden urgency to just do something instead of sitting at home and licking your wounds the thought of everyone secretly judging your return to absence makes you feel itchy. But it’s your own judgment makes you the most uncomfortable. You can’t escape your own thoughts that remind you how cowardly you’re behaving. How you’re wasting away thinking about a hybrid who never even was your charge.

Thinking about a hybrid who you foolishly put a lot of hope into.

It makes no logical sense that you feel like Simon was your way back to working with hybrids. You had been sure that working with a problem hybrid would be the worst thing that could happen to you. You had been sure it would make you feel worse and undo everything you’ve achieved in therapy so far.

Now it feels like anyone other than the problem hybrid will hinder your recovery.

For a moment you feel selfish for wanting to gain something out of helping a hybrid. How can you think like that? Even if working with one stops your progress it would be worth it if you could help them. It’s not their job to help you. You’re supposed to help them, that’s what you’re being paid for, dammit. Helping them without gaining anything should be all you want.

Still it would be the best case scenario if working with one would also allow you to slowly get used to them again. It would be nice if the hybrid could help you too. And you decide that you can allow yourself that little bit of selfishness.

But even if that best case scenario were to happen. Before you can get anyone elses help you’ll have to want to help yourself.

The days of peacefully sitting on your couch letting the world outside continue to turn while you exist in your own little reality that consists of your home and the doctors office are over. You’ve had enough time off. It’s time to return to work. If you don’t your own thoughts that continue to run in circles will drive you insane.

No matter how often you dissect what happened with Phillip it won’t change what happened and maybe it’s time to accept that.

It’s probably best if you go back to the center today, before you lose your drive. And what better way to return than just going for lunch. Nice and casual. Nothing scary. At least that’s what you’re trying to convince yourself of as your palms immediately begin getting sweaty.

It’s tiring always being scared and even if it scares you more to go back, at least you’re doing something. You can’t take another second of sitting at home waiting to feel better while doing nothing.

A sudden burst of energy has you rushing all over your home while you get ready and sprint out of your front door before your nerves catch up to you.

You try your hardest not to second guess yourself as your unsteady hands hold the access card against the entrance of the compound. It opens with a beep and you rush through. When you stand in front of the main building you freeze. Your hands are shaking and you will yourself to breathe deeply.

There will be a lot of hybrids at the cafeteria, and suddenly your feet wont take another step. Flashes of teeth, dripping with vicious saliva, snapping and tearing at you appear in your mind. You’re certain that there’s an aggressive hybrid growling behind you but when you turn there’s no one there. Wincing you wrap your arms around yourself, trying to make you feel some semblance of safety.

You’ve already managed to come here and turning around to go back home feels like defeat. You can already taste it’s bitter tang just from thinking about not going through with your plan. For a moment you chew on your lower lip, indecisive then you look up at the building. Liz should be working right now. Maybe she’s willing to have her break with you.

Taking two steps at once, you rush up the stairs hoping you don’t meet anyone, especially no hybrid before you reach Liz’ office. Your heart pumps hectically while you strain your ears to make sure you’ll hear approaching steps over your harsh breathing. You’re lucky, getting there without running into anyone and you quickly slip inside without knocking.

Your heart swells at the way Liz positively beams at your appearance. It should not surprise you as much as it does when she immediately takes her break so she can go to the cafeteria with you. The way she links her arm with yours is so easy and natural that it makes you gulp suppressing the strong urge to hide behind her.

You grow more and more tense the closer you get to the cafeteria. Liz chattering fading to the background even if it’s her attempt to distract you. There are two hybrids and their handlers joining your direction. Luckily they’re concentrated on their handlers and the promise of food after training. The two of them don’t even give you any attention besides a quick glance.

When you realize that they won’t attack, you relax minutely. Everything is okay, you’re okay. The hybrids at the center are all friendly. Usually.

Aggressive Hybrids are very rare and they’re usually kept on leash. There’s various reasons why a handler might decide to keep their charge on a leash and none of the handlers here would let an aggressive hybrid roam free.

You almost manage to gain some control over your fear until you hear a sudden bark behind you. It’s loud and startling and you can feel your heart jump painfully in your chest.

You rip your arm away from Liz, whipping around. Fear clogs your throat and you can feel your eyes watering in sheer panic.

A golden retriever hybrid is running at you his steps slightly uneven. Where his left leg should be is a prosthetic attached but it does nothing to slow him down. His handler is further down the hallway and from the leash that loosely hangs from the hybrids collar it’s evident that he ripped himself free from his handlers hold.

His ears are perked up and flop with every step, his face lit up with obvious joy but it doesn’t help the terror that floods through you at the sight of him running at you. A very faint voice reminds you that you know this hybrid and he wouldn’t hurt you, but that voice is easily silence by the dread that overpowers everything.

He stretches his arms out to the side and Liz takes a step forward.

Before he reaches you, or Liz can step into his way you thrust out your hand out in front of yourself in sheer desperation.

“STOP!”

Alex skids to a halt like he just ran against a wall, having to shift his weight so he doesn’t fall. The prosthetic makes an awful screeching noise as it scrapes over the floor. His ears droop and his tail halts mid wag, uncertain what just happened. You’d feel bad at the obvious hurt in his expression if you weren’t so desperately harnessing your fear to shove it back into the dark corner it crawled from.

Panic squeezes your lungs and denies you access to your own breaths. You think you hear Liz tell Alex’ handler to wait when he goes to grab Alex’ leash but you concentrate on regulating your wheezing breaths, your hand still outstretched to halt Alex.

The golden hybrid looks at you and takes a few small steps on the spot he’s glued to. His nostrils flare and he cocks his head at you.

“You’re afraid of me?” He half asks half states and the devastation in his voice rips your heart right in two. A whine makes its way from his chest and you shake your head. You panic retreating at the need to reassure and calm the hybrid. He did nothing wrong and here you are, hurting him by panicking.

“No! I’m not scared of you.” You say even if you’re not sure whether that’s true. But you need to say something, anything to stop the hurt in his eyes. He cocks his head at you in question.

“Just got spooked from the way your ran at me.”

He visibly perks back up at that, his tail slowly starting to wag again even if it’s decidedly less enthusiastic than before. Then it slowly gains momentum, getting quicker and stronger until his entire body wriggles with his joy and the sight steals a small smile from you.

“I only wanted to hug you. I haven’t seen you in forever. I promise I won’t rush. May I hug you?” He asks with so much hope in his voice that you can’t say no.

Briefly you scan his body language, finding nothing but excitement and restraint so you nod even if the way your blood rushes through you is almost painful.

Alex stays true to his word, slowly steps forward, opening his arms for you and waits until you mirror the gesture. Then he wraps his bulky frame around you, squeezing you to his chest. Immediately he pushes his face against you and takes a deep breath, smelling you. His mustache tickles you and you squirm giggling inadvertently.

He rumbles deep in his chest, huffs in displeasure at your movements which only makes you giggle and squirm more. Your fear slowly retracts its claws from your chest, hissing in displeasure at your entire being remembering Alex as safe.

You can feel him relax right along with you. Until all that is left is warmth and contentment. The close contact to him after weeks of staying away as far as possible from any and all hybrids fills your chest with warmth choking you up slightly. After you allow yourself to bask in his hug for as long as you deem acceptable and after you swallow your tears back down, you step back and shake your head at him fondly.

“You know that this is exactly why you’re still on leash. Always so easily distracted rushing off to investigate whatever scent you caught. Although I’m honored I’m the distraction this time.”

He folds his ears back and the chuckle of his handler reminds you of his and Liz presence. The man, Chad, steps forward and gently cuffs the back of Alex head. The hybrid playfully snaps in the direction of his fingers. You nearly flinch until you remind yourself that this is Alex and he’s just playing.

“Lucky for him we’re not training right now and you’re a very special distraction. It’s good to see you again.”

You remember the day you left Alex as his charge, a mixture of pride and pain in your chest. You’d worked months with Alex after he lost his leg in an explosion during a mission. You’d helped him regain his agility and confidence and it was only normal that you developed a deep bond with the hybrid.

It was always a happy occasion when a hybrid got to go back to having a work handler and you shake Chads outstretched hand with a warm smile. As you make your way into the cafeteria you try to concentrate on Alex and his handler, who’s taken his leash in hand again.

“We get to go back to the real work next week.” Alex tells you puffing his chest and pride blooms in your own chest. You know how much his work means to him and it will be great to see him leave the center after a year and a half of working hard to get back in shape. Still the thought stings a little.

You’ll miss him. He’s been one of your favorite charges and even after you left him in Chad’s capable hands - so they could work and train to become a team while Alex fully regained his abilities - it was nice to meet him in the hallways and outside on the training grounds.

You try to concentrate on the joy instead. He’ll get to go back to doing what he loves and you wonder when you’ll be able to do the same. With the way you currently need to check every hybrid around you for any sign of aggression you don’t see any possibility of you taking on a new charge soon.

With Simon it had been easy. He’d been an emergency which left not enough time to think, to doubt, to get lost in your fear. Now that he’s gone you have too much time to cook up all the worst case scenarios in your head again.

While you try to have lunch without always looking around like a spooked rabbit you get to watch Chad and Alex interact and their easy camaraderie and banter makes you jealous. It makes you overly aware of the fact that you’re unable to interact with a hybrid like that at the moment.

But you love this job. You love working with them and helping them and developing all these bonds. Harshly you stab your fork into the food. Even if it takes forever, you will be able to do it again.

As if to mock you the scar on your shoulder throbs at the aggressive movement and you subconsciously reach up, pressing against it. Alex turns his head towards you from his place besides you. You give him a small tight lipped smile.

He says nothing, but under the table he moves his leg until his thigh touches you and you stare down at the contact.

The next day you join Alex and Chad while training at their insistence the day before. They’re all too eager to show off their hard work to you and it’s almost mesmerizing the way they clear the obstacle course together.

The centers agility course is a jungle of platforms that are raised over the ground with obstacles in between. The platforms vary from the size of your hand to a square meter and some are slanted to test the balance.

They can be roughly divided into two heights one being a few centimeters above the ground while the second level is mostly at two meters with platforms of varying heights in between. There is no designated path through the course which allows a handler to challenge a hybrid with new angles at already well known obstacles.

The slight tugs Chad gives on the leash help Alex to find the right footing while he concentrates on sniffing out the hidden object. You.

You’re crouched behind an obstacle that’s on the second level, keeping out of sight. You peek at the pair of them moving through the course stopping at a point where you doubled back to confuse Alex.

The single minded focus of the hybrid is admirable but also dangerous out in the field. In the field concentrating on nothing besides what he’s supposed to sniff out means running into the line of fire, stepping onto a contact mine or whatever other horrible things wait for them in the field. That is why he’s connected to Chad with the leash.

You almost shout a warning, your heart leaping into your throat, when Alex lifts his head to track your scent not watching the small platforms under his feet. You can already see his foot miss the next platform but Chad gives a gentle tug and Alex rights his direction without looking down.

His foot finds the platform and you exhale heavily with relief. You can only continue watching in awe. You’d known that Chad was a good handler. While working with Philip you had often seen the two of them train but you always had your own hybrid to concentrate on so you never got to appreciate the incredible team these two make.

Alex finds you easily while Chad watches over him, clearing his path, making sure he doesn’t get hurt while he concentrates on his work and when Alex finds you in record time, you can’t help but clap and holler in excitement.

Chad ruffles Alex hair and the golden retriever hybrid beams with pride. His tail wags a mile a minute and when you’re all back down on the ground he does a few silly circles on the spot giving an excited bark which makes Chad laugh.

A deep feeling of peace settles over you. This is what it’s supposed to be like. A soft smile sneaks onto your lips. Watching Chad and Alex is weirdly healing, reminding you of what a healthy hybrid handler relationship looks like. You have been able to build one with every charge you’ve had besides Phillip. And with him it wasn’t because you didn’t try.

For the first time fear isn’t the first emotion bubbling up when you think about Phillip. This time it’s sadness. In his chase for his independence he sold his soul to someone else. But you don’t think that the proud hybrid realized that. He probably didn’t realize that the gesture of attacking you was empty considering the reasons for it. It proved jack shit. But hey at least he got what he wanted in the end.

Even that thought doesn’t chase the sadness away. So you concentrate back on Chad and Alex and you realize you’re a little less frustrated with yourself when you go to bed that evening. You got to work with a hybrid again and it had went well. Things will get better after all.

After the day you spent with Alex you come back to work for good. You do not have your own charge at the moment but you try to be useful in every way you can. Instead of working with a hybrid you start helping with the equipment, running errands and giving the other handlers advice that you feel not qualified to give considering how long you’ve been absent and the reason for your absence.

The way you try to avoid running into hybrids makes you feel ashamed of yourself once more but you don’t have it in you to just casually cross paths with them. It’s so stupid, the way one hybrid ruined every hybrid for you. You’re determined to change that, to not see a threat in every hybrid but maybe… maybe not today.

You duck around the corner as you spot a hybrid walking down the hallway with her handler and press yourself against the wall counting down from ten to calm yourself. It’s frustrating as hell that interacting with Alex didn’t magically heal you.

Why could one hybrid not heal the wounds of one other hybrid? Your pulse still jumps at every hybrid you see. You still try to hide instead of normally passing them. And you grow frustrated with yourself. Healing sucks. It’s hard to understand why books and movies always seem to picture it as this magical beautiful journey when most of the time it feels like running in circles and standing in your own way.

How would things be if Simon was still here? Would you walk the hallways unafraid with his large form looming next to you? Maybe if he’d become your charge you would feel better already.

You shake your head. Thinking about that doesn’t help you, you try to remind yourself. Simon’s in England and there isn’t anything you can do.

You peek around the corner, seeing that the hybrid is gone you continue on your way, glad that the tiles help you hear when someone’s approaching. You look at the stack of papers in your arms and almost scoff at yourself. Running errands instead of doing what you actually get paid for.

But with Simon gone you don’t know how you’re supposed to jump into the deep end and take the position as a handler again.

You should have known. You should have known it would come back to bite you in the ass that you didn’t sign the handler agreement. Maybe with that you could have been transferred with Simon and stayed by his side for the time it will take for him to be able to go back to active duty.

Apparently the Doc had asked for the papers that prove that Simon is your charge so she could have you called to the center before he left. When she called the office they had to tell her that no such papers were signed.

You’re lucky that the Doc hasn’t told anyone that you lied to gain access to his medical report. At least you don’t think she has or someone would have approached you about it by now. It still might happen and you’re unsure whether you should talk to her about it before you possibly get a lawsuit.

Thinking about that does nothing to calm your racing heart and you almost flee inside Liz’ office when it comes into view as if her presence will shield you from your own thoughts and feelings as well.

You drop the stack of papers on her desk and she sighs, pushing up her glasses and meets you eyes.

“I should probably thank you but honestly, how dare you bring this to me instead of accidentally spilling coffee all over them.”

Hearing Liz who enjoys the office work say something like that startles a laugh out of you and she grins.

“One of those days?” You ask and she nods, stretches her arms over her head and groans when her back audibly pops.

She takes her smoothie and slurps it through her straw. “You know I looked into it for you. But there is no way for us to obtain any information on Simon’s well being. I’m sorry.”

You plop down into the empty chair before her desk and crane your neck until you’re staring at the ceiling. “Yeah. I already expected that. If only I had signed those damned papers.”

You catch Liz shrug out of your peripheral vision. “Well with the English laws being the way they are it’s not certain that would have done anything either.”

Lazily you let your head roll forward. “Hm?”

“Ah, right. You only do the hands on work. The hybrid-handler laws in England demand the hybrid to sign an agreement too for the handler-hybrid relationship to have legal effect. So your signature alone would probably not give you any information on him anyway.”

“Oh.” You think about it. You know the English laws are different but you never looked into it since they don’t concern you, at least they never did until now. Either way you will never know what’s become of Simon and it frustrates you.

“Well, it is what it is.” You say resigned and put your hands on your knees to push yourself up. If only you could mean that. “Back to running errands I go.”

Before you can leave the room Liz’ voice stops you. “You have to take on a charge again at some point.”

You half turn to her smiling, even though you don’t feel like smiling at all. “Exactly. ‘At some point.’ That point is not now. It’s barely been a few days of me being back.”

She shakes her head at you and you’d be embarrassed or angry at her disappointed expression but you know it’s because she cares. “Why are you so damn hesitant? You were fully ready to take Simon as charge?”

You purse your lips in thought, turning to her fully. “With him it was easy. I didn’t have time to imagine all the things that could go wrong. Just ‘bam here’s this hybrid you have to take care of’. Now that he’s gone I have too much time to think about what it means to take on a new charge.”

Liz clicks her tongue. “Maybe I’ll just drop a hybrid at your doorstep so you don’t have time to think.”

You gasp in mock offense. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.” She says dryly and you’re not sure if she’s still joking. So you laugh it off while fleeing her office before she decides to make any more valid points.

That better have been a joke or you’d strangle her. And then thank her because thinking about it - dropping a hybrid at your doorstep might actually work. Your close the door, turn to walk back down the hallway and almost walk into Meg from HR.

“Oh good. I was looking for you.”

You gulp. Oh no. Did the Doc rat you out after all? Would they fire you? Shit. You rub your palms against your pants. Did you do anything wrong? What if she knows you lied to get the Doc to talk about Simon? Would they file a lawsuit because of something like that?

“Follow me.” She says curtly and you nod, too startled and scared to get a simple yes out. Walking behind her through the hallway makes you feel like you’re walking to your own execution and you thank whoever is listening that you don’t run into any hybrids. You’re not sure your heart could handle any more anxiety.

The clicking of her door closing while she indicates for you to sit down at her desk sounds like a threat and when you sit you rub your sweaty palms against your thighs.

She sits down on her side of the desk and clicks something on her computer then she looks at you seriously and you feel like you’ll be in serious trouble in a few second. Hopefully you won’t cry, that would be embarrassing.

She sighs. “Do you remember the aggressive hybrid you were called in for from your leave?”

You nod and this time you manage to weakly say: “Yes.” Oh no. Oh no no no no. Pleas no.

She taps a pen against her chin and studies you. “You know we really hoped you could take another charge soon so management isn’t the happiest about it but we were promised a substitute and compensation so we decided to leave it up to you.”

Is she doing this on purpose? Dragging it out? What substitute? What the hell is going on?

“We got a request for you from the center in England he is currently at. They want you to work there with him for however long it takes to get him back on his feet. You’re one of our best even if you’re currently not exactly fitting your job description. I heard you got along well with him.” Something in her gaze softens at her last statement and you release your held breath a heavy weight dropping off your shoulders.

She doesn’t know about the papers. It feels like your heart can finally get a break. But then everything she said hits you and you start nervously bouncing your leg. They requested you? You’re sure they have more than enough handlers at the center he’s currently at. Surely they have competent personnel?

“Why… did they request me?” You carefully ask, not sure you’re allowed to ask any questions. Which is absurd if you think about it because of course you’re allowed to ask questions if she specifically called you to her office to give you a choice.

She purses her lips and twirls the pen in her fingers. “Apparently he’s giving them trouble. They don’t know what to do and found out he was more comfortable with you. Usually they would just give a problematic hybrid like him a medical discharge from his duties but apparently he’s a big enough asset for them to reach out to us.”

You nod trying to understand. What happened? Things hadn’t looked that bad. What had happened that Simon is once again deemed a problematic? Are you willing to go to England for an unknown amount of time because they ask you to? It might be months until he’s rehabilitated.

Your thoughts return to the few moments you had with him. You remember him in the bath, the way he’d let you dry his hair. The way you felt like you might overcome your fear with him. Maybe you don’t have to try with another hybrid. Maybe Simon is meant to be your charge so you can both help each other. This might be what you’ve been waiting for without knowing.

You’re a bit unsettled by how quick you’ve come to your decision. You should probably think this through more but you’d sign the handler papers in a heartbeat. That reminds you…

“What about him? Don’t the laws in England demand that he agrees with me being his handler?”

She nods, rifles through a stack of paper on her table and finally finds what she’s looking for. She folds the stapled stack of papers open on the last page and slides it over her desk towards you. At the bottom two lines for signatures sit.

“He already signed signed.”

You stare at the line where his name sits in neat block writing. You can’t help yourself but run your finger over it. Your heart thumps hectically in your chest. He already agreed to you being his handler. All you have to do is sign as well. You try to come up with all the logical questions and things that should make you hesitate.

“What about housing and stuff?” You hate how you say ‘stuff’ like you don’t know what you’re talking about. Your thoughts are rushing. You have a hard time getting a hold of them. Taking care of contracts and the whole organizational stuff was never your strong suit. Your strong suit is working with hybrids, at least you thought so until Phillip. But the fact that Simon apparently wants you as his handler makes the smallest bit of confidence grow.

They want you in England because whatever happened makes them think you can help him. Whatever he said makes them think you’re who they have to turn to. You can do this. This is also what the hybrid wants. What will happen to Simon if you refuse?

Meg rips you from your thoughts. “They board and lodge their staff if they chose to live on site.”

You nod and then hold your hand out for the pen.

“Are you sure?” Meg asks and hesitantly gives in to you. You scribble your signature on the line next to Simon’s.

“Yes.” You say. Actually you aren’t sure at all. It’s probably stupid to sign so quickly when you haven’t asked a lot of important questions but if you don’t sign now you’ll think about it and then fear will claw at your chest and prevent you from going for it. Maybe it’s stupid and reckless. But it feels right.

Meg shrugs and takes the paper with your signature back. “Alright. Simon Riley is officially your new charge. They want you over there as quickly as possible so you should take the earliest flight you can. We’ll prepare your papers and request your substitute.”

Liz is gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles are stark white. Your knee is bouncing again and she glances at you from the corner of her eyes every now and then. She insisted on driving you to the airport and you’re very thankful despite arguing at first that she doesn’t have to.

“What is it?” You ask and now both your legs are bouncing.

Her hands shift on the wheel before gripping hard again. “Are you sure about this?”

You sigh and put your face in your hands. “No.” You mumble. She has the audacity to laugh at that. You shoot her a look and then start laughing too. What the hell are you doing? You’re about to fly to a whole other continent for a hybrid you don’t even really know.

She shrugs but her hands relax. “We can still cancel it all. I’ll kidnap you, no one will ever know that you tucked your tail and ran.”

That makes you laugh harder and you shake your head resting it back against the headrest. “I feel insane for this but I couldn’t say no. Maybe I’ll end up regretting this but maybe… Maybe everything will work out? What if this is what I need? A problem hybrid in a whole other country who wants me as his handler.”

Liz purses her lips. “I don’t know. I’ve never known you to be so impulsive but if you feel like you have to do this I won’t stop you. But if I receive word that you want to come back and don’t want to do this after all, I’ll terminate the contract and personally come get your ass back to the US.”

You snort at that but something in you calms down. Despite her joking tone you know that she means every word. You look at her for a while and it hits you that you don’t know how long you’ll be in England. Who knows when you’ll be in the same room as her again.

“Thank you.” You say quietly and Liz just nods.

The rest of the ride is comfortably quiet.

At the airport she squeezes you tightly and helps you with your luggage. Before you know it you’re on the plane and taking off. Your whole body starts getting jittery with nerves. You breathe deeply remembering one of the exercises your therapist gave you. She offered to keep holding your sessions online and you’re incredibly thankful for it.

You manage to calm down during the flight and even sneak in a nap, waking up with a racing heart to the announcement that the plane is on approach. As soon as you touch ground and have permission to use your phone you text Liz to let her know that you landed safely.

Half an hour later you’re in a cab going for the rehabilitation center you’ll stay at for an unknown amount of time. You wipe your hands on your pants thankful that the cab driver doesn’t try to make conversation so you can look out the window at the darkness of the evening.

It’s weird to think about how much more of the day Liz has left while it’s already very late evening here.

The street lights illuminate parts of the road and you feel like you’re dying inside from all the uncertainty of what is to come. You wish the drive would never end so you can’t arrive at the center. Alternatively you’d be happy with a concise list of what exactly will happen and who exactly you’ll meet. You get neither an endless ride nor a list. Sooner than you’d like the cab stops and you’re left with your gigantic luggage on the sidewalk.

You sincerely hope no one watches the awkward waddle you do while dragging your heavy bag with you to the front gate. Your wishes go unnoticed because someone approaches you quickly and you straighten up your heart jumping into your throat.

When the person is finally close enough for you to make them out clearly your breath hitches and you can’t help but look at him with wide eyes. He’s a snake hybrid. You’ve never seen one before and even if you’re aware of how rude it is you can’t stop staring.

“Welcome! You’re the handler from America, right?” He greets you and you gape at him nodding. He has a split tongue. The street lamps illuminate him dimly and if you aren’t mistaken the faint outline of scales is visible at his temples and his jaw.

He waits a moment and then slightly squirms under your scrutiny. “Ah. Am I your first snake hybrid?”

That manages to shake you out of it and you nod mumbling an apology. He easily hoists up your baggage onto his shoulder and opens a door in the gate with a key card.

“Don’t worry. I get that reaction with most people. We’re all really happy that you’re here. Simon has been… difficult to say the least.” The snake hybrid goes on and you can’t help but wonder how he knows so much. Who is he? Is he the companion hybrid of one of the handlers here?

You’re staring again while you follow him and his shoulders tense. “Oh! I forgot to introduce myself. How silly. I’m Nathair but please call me Nate.”

You give him your name in return and he stops for a moment to extend his hand for you to shake before continuing his way towards a large building. Before you can get a good look at the way it’s structured Nate leads you through the entrance door and towards a reception desk.

Smoothly he slides behind it sorting some papers and putting them in a folder then he gets a key card and stands again. He extends the folder to you and you take it before Nathair rounds the desk again, takes up your luggage once more and makes his way down a hallway. You hurry to follow.

“Those are some papers we need signed, some information like a map and the rules of our center. I also included Simon’s file.”

Suddenly your interest is piqued. “Where is he?”

Nate turns down another hallway and you already know it will take a while before you’re comfortable with the layout of the center. Thank god for the map.

“He’s being kept in a safety room where he will stay until he is ready to join you.”

“Join me?” You have to jog a few steps to keep up with Nate’s quick pace and when he notices he slows down. Here in the light of the building you can get a good look at him.

He’s magnificent. Broad shoulders, copper coloured hair and a dusting of dark reddish brows freckles that get denser towards his temples and fade into a few scattered scales. His skin is pale and along his jaw fading down his neck you can make out some more scales.

His eyes are big and round and something about them is slightly off. You can’t say exactly what it is though. The hands which are holding up your luggage are strong but slender and on the back of them you can once again see reddish brown scales disappear under his sleeves.

“Yes. Join you. Hybrids and handlers share their rooms here but with Simon being the way he is we didn’t deem it safe enough to bring him to the general housing wing yet. “

Suddenly you feel stupid again. You really agreed too quickly without enough information. You didn’t even know about the rooming situation. You straighten your shoulders. It’s too late now and it’s not like you would decide differently if you were given the choice again.

“This one’s yours.” Nate finally stops in front of a door. Right on the door, engraved in a small plastic plate, is your name. You swallow nervously as Nate unlocks it and puts your baggage down inside against the wall next to the entrance.

You walk in and a small smile blooms on your face. It’s cosy. Not so small that it feels cramped but not big enough to make you feel lost in it either. The curtains are drawn over the windows and there is even a small kitchenette cramped into the corner next to one of the windows.

On the right side nestled into a corner is a decently sized desk and on the left opposite to it is the bed pushed against the wall.

You walk in looking through an open door on the right side at the end of the room. It’s the bathroom. At the far end of the tiled room you see another door. Once you’ve scanned every corner you turn back to ask Nate about the door and you catch him with his split tongue out. He blushes a brilliant red under his freckles and lifts his hand to rub the back of his head.

“Ah… sorry. I was just smelling the room.” He sheepishly admits and you cock your head at him in curiosity.

“I smell better with my mouth and tongue than I do with my nose and I wanted to get your scent.”

You laugh at the embarrassed expression on his face and he turns even redder which makes you shake your head and put your hands up. “No, no! I’m not laughing at you!”

You take a step in his direction. “Nate, I work with dog hybrids for a living. I’m used to being smelled.”

He seems taken aback by that then he grins. “Do you mind then?”

You shake your head and Nate takes a step closer his split tongue testing the air for a few moments before he steps back and nods. “Thank you. Not knowing how someone smells feels like I don’t fully know who they are. Like I never saw a their face.”

You nod. “If I say I understand that I’d be lying because I obviously do not experience these things like you do. But it makes sense, no need to be embarrassed.”

He seems happy with that and looks around the room. His eyes settle on another door in the middle of the right wall. He steps towards it.

“Through this you’ll get to Simon’s room. It’s exactly the same as yours just mirrored. His room also shares the bathroom with yours.”

Ah that’s the other door you noticed in the bathroom. Curiously you open it and look into Simon’s room. Just like Nate says it’s a perfectly mirrored version of yours. But it’s empty and suddenly you can’t stay a moment longer here without having seen Simon. You need to make sure he’s okay.

“Nate. Where is Simon? Can I see him?”

The snake hybrid once again scratches the back of his head. “It’s already late.”

“Please. I need to know he’s okay. I came all this way specifically for him.”

Nate looks at you for a long moment and whatever he sees in your expression makes him sigh and relent.

Your ribcage hurts from the violent beats of your heart as you follow Nate through the building. He leads you down so many turns that you’re sure you won’t find your way back on your own.

The fact that all the hallways look basically the same doesn’t help your orientation but all you think about is seeing Simon again. He’s probably mostly healed by now. Will he be excited to see you? After all he signed the agreement first.

Nate leads you down the corridor to a seeming dead end but when you get closer you see that there is actually a door at the end. You both stop before it and the snake hybrid gets his key card.

“Would you like me to go in first and make sure he’s calm?” He asks and you immediately shake your head.

“It will be fine.”

Nate presses his lips into a thin line but nods and unlocks the door. You wipe your palms on your pants the excitement of seeing him again almost overwhelming you. You’re here and he is here and everything will be fine.

The door opens and you step into the room. Simon’s on his feet at the other end and oh, he looks spectacular. You’ve been separated long enough that his health noticeably progressed during that time.

His ears perk forward and Nate slips into the room besides you, closing the door.

Seeing Simon standing on his own without any struggle fills you with relief and your eyes with tears. Physically he already looks so much better than you remember him and the joy of that realization almost makes you shake.

“It’s you.” He rumbles and you cannot restrain yourself anymore taking hasty steps in his direction. Giddy that he’s alive and on his feet and looks well. Everything will work out after all. You’ll take care of each other.

You realize your mistake too late, blinded by the happiness. Time seems to almost slow to a halt. For a moment Simon’s eyes widen, then his tail bristles and his ears press against his head, his lips peel back revealing his dangerous canines.

Your heart stops but you’re mere steps from him and before you can stop the malinois hybrid charges the last steps that separate you.

“No!” Nate shouts somewhere behind you but you barely hear it over the ringing in your ears.

Simon barrels into you, throwing you to the floor and your head cracks against the tiles making pain explode all over the back of it. Simon’s honey coloured eyes are narrowed in aggression and his growl rattles your bones. His big body presses you against the cold hard floor uncomfortably. Every bone aching from the fall.

His teeth flash and you barely have the time to throw up your arms, crossing them in front of you to shield your face and neck. His fangs sink into your forearm. The intensity of the pain almost makes you cry out and you grunt.

Your eyes widen as you look up at Simon’s expression, nose scrunched as he grinds his teeth deeper into your arm until you feel like he’ll break right through your bones. He’s growling like he wants to kill you. His broad shoulders block out the room behind him. All you can see is his vicious snarl and angry eyes.

For some reason it’s the trickle of blood running down to your elbow that catches your attention. How funny, you think, that your own blood can tickle you like this.

#the sewer writes #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #gn!reader #ghost x reader #simon x reader #hybrid au #hybrid!simon x reader #handler reader #hybrid simon

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loveergirll · 1 day ago

Text

141 boys as Christmas songs

Credits to the many people on Pinterest for these pics

Authors note: felt inspired while listening to some classics this morning enjoy!

Warnings: uhm…none really except for soap being flirty and dramatic as always and Ghost being clingy

this fic includes Price, Gaz, Soap, and Ghost. If you want a part 2 with more people lmk!

John Price: Let it snow!

Oh, the weather outside is frightful

But the fire is so delightful

Since we've no place to go

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow

I see Price as the kind of guy who loves to be cozy. He’s definitely one for naps with you cuddled close to his chest midday, this man can fall asleep anywhere. I mean ANYWHERE.

So imagine, there’s a snowy blizzard going outside, and he’s got the fireplace burning. He’s making you some tea/coffee (whatever your preference) as you get settled in bed and turn on a movie of your choice.

He don’t care about the snow that’s raging outside, just lay on his chest and let him play with your hair, he’ll be happy :)

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick: Winter Wonderland

In the meadow we can build a snowman,

Then pretend that he is Parson Brown

He'll say: Are you married?

We'll say: No man,

But you can do the job

When you're in town.

I think Gaz would enjoy a good hike with his partner. Especially when the seasons are changing. Take him on a walk in the snowy woods, hold his bicep as you walk and talk the afternoon away. Maybe have a little picnic while you’re out, he’d love it. But really, Gaz would love doing anything with you. Like just imagine making a snowman with gaz while in the wood and it turns into a mini snowball fight.

“Love he looks a little…lopsided”

“Leave him alone Kyle!”

“Just saying he could do with a bit of-“

And just like that he’s met with icy cold snow to the face.

“Oh you’re on love”

The day will end with both of you at home by the fireplace, warming up after a long day in the snow. He’ll keep you close as you both defrost, placing soft kisses to your hairline as you sip some tea or cocoa.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish: Baby it’s cold outside

There's bound to be talk tomorrow

Think of my life-long sorrow

At least there will be plenty implied

If you got pneumonia and died

I really can't stay

Get over that hold out

Baby, it's cold outside

God Johnny is be a menace when it’s cold out.

“Cmon Lass, you’ll freeze your pretty ass off out there!”

“Bonnie, it’s too cold outside, just let me keep you warm lass, come lay with me”

I had no doubts when I put this for Johnny. The drama he ensues when you try to leave his arms…just good luck babe.

“Johnny my parents are waiting for me-“

“Cannae believe you’re tryin’ ta leave me Bonnie!”

Sigh. “Maybe just…one more drink”

Yeah you’re not going anywhere when he gives you his puppy dog eyes and soft pout.

Simon “Ghost” Riley: Love to Keep Me Warm

I love the winter weather

So the two of us can get together

There's nothing sweeter, finer

When it's nice and cold

I can hold my baby closer to me

And collect the kisses that are due me

I love the winter weather

'Cause I got my love to keep me warm

Simon is also another guy who loves to be comfy and cozy with you. I could totally imagine simon and his partner just cuddled up on the couch all day watching Christmas movies. He probably wont let you get up for awhile. He’s just keeping you warm lovie! It’s too cold for you on your own, even if you’re just going to the bathroom…

“Simon I have to pee”

“Ok”

He’ll pick you up and set you on the toilet, still cuddled up to you.

“Simon-“

“Jus’ keepin’ ya warm lovie”

And when he’s so sweet like this, you just can’t be mad at him.

#cod #soap x reader #cod fanfic #cod fluff #simon ghost riley #simon riley #task force 141 #cod x you #gaz cod #john price x reader #john price #kyle gaz x reader #kyle garrick #johnny mactavish #soap call of duty #loveergirllwrites

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estellesdoll · 4 hours ago

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31 𝒅𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓 | 𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

⊹. 𝒅𝒂𝒚 25 : 𝑯𝒐𝒍𝒊𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 𖧧 . ָ࣪ ִֶָ

𓄹 ࣪.𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𓄹 ࣪.𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 𓄹 ࣪.𝒏𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𓄹 ࣪.𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 : The holidays bring warmth and love, but also unresolved family struggles, as Rafe defends your place in his life while embracing fatherhood.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 : (soft) dad!rafe cameron x pregnant!reader

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 : fluff, angst, family tension, pregnancy themes

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 : 2k

The Cameron household was filled with the warmth of the season. The scent of roasted turkey mingled with the sweet aroma of cinnamon and pine.

The Christmas tree sparkled in the corner, its lights twinkling as you sat nestled on the couch, wrapped in a cozy blanket.

Your hand rested on your growing belly, your thoughts drifting to the life you were about to bring into the world.

Rafe was nearby, making sure everything was perfect for you. His love and concern for you during your pregnancy were unwavering, though there was a nervous energy in the air.

It wasn’t from him; it was from the dynamic with his family, and today felt like it was all bubbling to the surface.

Sarah was nearby, teasing Rafe about becoming a dad, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “I still can’t believe you’re going to be a father,” she teased, her voice light but affectionate.

Rafe rolled his eyes but smiled at his sister. “Why? You think I’m not capable?”

“Of course you are,” Sarah responded quickly. “I just think it’s weird, that’s all.”

You laughed softly, shifting your position to make yourself more comfortable. "It’s weird for me too," you admitted with a grin, earning a chuckle from both Rafe and Sarah.

Wheezie, who was sitting on the floor with her toys, looked up. "I think it’s cool," she chimed in. "I get to be an aunt."

"Yes, you do," Rafe agreed, his voice warm. "And you’re going to be the best one."

As the conversation continued, you noticed that Rose and Ward, who were quietly sitting at the table, hadn’t said much.

You could feel the tension simmering in the room. Rose caught your eye for a moment, offering you a soft, understanding smile. But Ward was different.

Ward’s eyes were cold, distant, even as he tried to hide it. He didn’t quite seem to approve of everything that was happening.

You couldn’t quite place it—maybe it was because Rafe had chosen to bring you, someone outside of their world, into their family or maybe it was because of your pregnancy.

Either way, it was clear Ward wasn’t fully onboard.

As the meal continued, the tension between Rafe and his father only seemed to grow. Ward’s forced smiles and clipped words were getting harder for Rafe to ignore. You saw the way his shoulders stiffened, his eyes darting nervously between his father and you.

"I think I’ll go get the dessert ready," you said, standing up, trying to break the tension.

Rafe grabbed your hand before you could walk away. His touch was gentle but firm. "You okay?" he asked quietly, his voice filled with concern.

You smiled, nodding. "I’m fine. I just… need a minute."

He seemed to hesitate, then pulled you in for a soft kiss on the forehead. "Don’t let him get to you. I’m right here, okay?"

You nodded, but the tight knot in your chest didn’t loosen. You could feel Ward’s disapproval creeping into the air, and it hurt to think that this—this moment—was what Rafe was still trying to work through with his family.

Later, after dinner, the family dispersed. Sarah and Wheezie went to the living room to watch Christmas movies, and Rose started cleaning up the table. Ward stood by the window, staring outside as if trying to make sense of everything.

Rafe joined you on the couch, pulling you into his side. He held you close, his hands resting on your belly. “I wish he’d just… accept it, you know?” His voice was filled with frustration, the words he had been holding back all evening finally spilling out.

“I know,” you whispered. “I know it’s hard, but we have each other. You’re doing great, Rafe.”

He squeezed you tighter, his chin resting on your head. "I’m trying. I really am. But I want him to see you the way I do. To know how much I care about you and our baby."

You kissed him softly on the cheek. "He will. It just might take some time."

Rafe’s voice wavered slightly. "I don’t want you to feel like you’re not welcome here. I never wanted you to feel that way."

“I don’t, Rafe. But I know it’s not easy for you. I can see how much it hurts.” You pulled back slightly to look into his eyes. "But I’m with you, okay? I’ve got you."

He swallowed hard, looking away for a moment, trying to fight back the vulnerability that crept into his expression. “I’m sorry if I’ve made things harder. I just wanted this Christmas to be perfect. I wanted you to feel like part of the family."

You cupped his face gently, making him meet your gaze again. "I do feel like part of the family. But don’t carry all the weight of this alone. We’re in this together."

Just then, Rose appeared in the doorway, her expression soft as she observed the two of you. She stepped closer, her voice quieter but warm. "I think Ward just needs some time, Rafe. He’s not always good at showing it, but he does care. I’ve seen it."

Rafe looked up at her, a mixture of frustration and hope in his eyes. "But he can’t just pretend everything’s fine, Rose. He can’t act like he’s okay with all of this."

Rose sat down beside you both, offering a reassuring smile. "No, but that doesn’t mean he won’t come around. Your dad’s a work in progress. It’ll take time, but he does love you, Rafe. And he’ll love your child. He just… doesn’t know how to show it yet."

Rafe nodded, but you could see the lingering doubt in his eyes. You reached over and squeezed his hand.

"You’re doing everything right, Rafe. And we’re here with you. This is our family now, and we’re going to be just fine."

The fire crackled softly in the background as the three of you sat in quiet reflection. Rafe was still tense, but he seemed comforted by the support from Rose and you. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of the house and the love you shared, the weight of the world didn’t feel so heavy.

Rafe shifted slightly, his hand still resting on yours. The warmth of his touch was grounding, and the way he leaned into you, seeking comfort, spoke volumes about the weight he was carrying.

He had always been the one to shield others, to put up a tough front, but in moments like these, you could see the cracks. He was human, vulnerable, and trying to balance his love for you with the expectations of his family.

Rose smiled gently, understanding the quiet, unspoken bond between you two. “You know,” she began softly, breaking the silence, “Rafe’s always been the stubborn one, but underneath all of that, he’s got the biggest heart. He’ll figure this out. And so will Ward, in his own way.”

You nodded, grateful for Rose’s comforting words. She had always been the pillar of calm in the family, the one who could offer perspective when everything felt chaotic. You had no doubt that she was right. It would take time, but Rafe’s family would come to see the depth of his love for you and the baby.

Rafe sighed, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “I just want everyone to be happy. To feel like this is right. I don’t want you to feel out of place. And the last thing I want is for you to feel like you’re not welcome here, especially during Christmas.”

You reached over and cupped his face, lifting his chin so that his eyes met yours. “Rafe, I don’t feel out of place. You’ve made me feel more at home than anyone ever has. I’m just as nervous as you are about all of this, but I trust you, and I trust us. We’ve got this.”

He leaned into your touch, his forehead resting gently against yours. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he whispered, his voice low and raw.

Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps approaching interrupted the quiet moment. Sarah entered the room, her eyes lighting up when she saw you and Rafe. “Hey, I think dessert’s almost ready, and Rose’s calling us to get the rest of the food on the table.”

Rafe gave her a small nod, his hand still resting protectively on your belly. “Thanks, Sarah. We’ll be there in a second.”

She looked between the two of you, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “Don’t stay in here all night, you two. I’m sure you have plenty of other family to see, too.”

Rafe laughed softly, standing up and offering his hand to you. “You heard her,” he said with a grin. “Let’s go have dessert with the family.”

As you got to your feet, you took a deep breath. Despite the underlying tension, there was a soft warmth settling in your chest. The holiday season had a way of making everything feel a little brighter, even in the midst of uncertainty.

You walked into the dining room, where everyone was gathered around the table, chatting and laughing.

You felt a shift in the air as you entered, a subtle change, but one that made you feel like you belonged. You could sense that Rafe’s family was trying, in their own way, to make you feel included. Ward still hadn’t spoken much, but you could see the faintest flicker of acceptance in his eyes as you sat down beside Rafe.

The night wore on, filled with light conversation and the warmth of shared moments. While the tension hadn’t fully dissolved, you couldn’t help but feel hopeful. Rafe was right there with you, his hand gently resting on your knee beneath the table, offering quiet support whenever you needed it.

As dessert was served, Sarah leaned over to you with a mischievous grin. “So, any ideas for baby names yet?”

You laughed softly, turning to Rafe, who immediately raised an eyebrow. “We’ve talked about it,” you said, trying to hide your smile, “but nothing’s set in stone yet.”

Sarah smirked, teasing you both. “Well, you have to tell me when you’ve decided. I’m going to be the best aunt ever.”

Wheezie piped up from the other side of the table. “I want to help pick the name!”

You chuckled, your heart swelling with affection for the little girl. “We’ll definitely need your help, Wheezie. Don’t worry.”

The evening carried on with laughter and chatter, the tension gradually dissolving as the night wore on. Rafe’s hand remained in yours, and you knew that, despite the obstacles ahead, this—this love and connection—was something worth fighting for.

When the time came to leave, you stood up, feeling the weight of the evening settle on you. You looked over at Rafe, who had been quieter than usual but seemed at ease in your presence. “Ready to go?” you asked softly.

He smiled, his hand gently rubbing your lower back. “Yeah. I’m ready. Let’s go home.”

As you left the warmth of his family’s house and stepped into the crisp night air, Rafe pulled you close, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “No matter what happens, you and our baby will always be my priority. I’ll make sure we’re okay.”

You smiled, your heart full. “I know, Rafe. And I’ll always be by your side.”

Together, you walked through the snow, the quiet of the night surrounding you, and the promise of your future together ahead.

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 : @gemzyy @e

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@estellesdoll

#estellesdoll #estellesdoll : 31 days of winter 2024 #rafe cameron x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe x pregnant!reader #dad!rafe cameron #dad!rafe #dad!rafe x pregnant!reader #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks

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sugdenlovesdingle · 1 day ago

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Happy Christmas @strandnreyes !! Here is your very late gift from your secret santa!

I had a plan, it was going well, and then I wrote myself into a corner and couldn't figure out how to fix it... and went with plan B at around 6PM yesterday. But I'm pretty happy with the result and I hope you are too!

written for @tarlos-santa for the prompt: roommate’s best friend AU

---

Strickland holiday special (AO3)

“December 24th, 7pm, dinner at my place. Bring yourself and your holiday spirit.” Paul announced when he sat down at Carlos’ table in the bar they’d agreed to meet for a catch up after work.

Carlos was thrown off guard for a second but then shook his head.

“Can’t. Nochebuena with the family. My mom will kill me if I miss that.”

“And you don’t want to spend the holidays with your best friend?” Paul asked, fake hurt, and took a sip from the beer Carlos had ordered for him.

“You’ve met my mother... and she likes you now… but if you keep me from coming to mass with her and the rest of the family, she’s going to put you on her naughty list for next year.” Carlos replied, only half joking. He wasn’t especially excited to spend the holidays with his entire extended family, but it usually was nice to catch up with cousins he only ever saw at birthdays and family gatherings.

Only this year he also had to avoid his sister and her interest in his love life ever since she set him up with a friend of a friend a few months ago.

“Ah but if I promise to feed her boy, even Andrea Reyes will forgive me.” Paul told him and Carlos had to admit to himself he was probably right. “Come on man, it’s just dinner with some friends. Some people from work, and you’ll get to meet Asha for real.”

“I’ve already met her!”

“Outside McDonald’s in the middle of Saturday afternoon shoppers doesn’t count.” Paul argued. “Come on, you know you want to say yes. I’ll make my famous chilli.”

“Well in that case I’m definitely not coming, you chilli heathen.” Carlos joked and Paul good naturedly rolled his eyes.

“If I allow you to assist me in the kitchen, will you come? I’ll even let you disgrace my chilli with your nachos.”

Carlos laughed.

“Ok, fine, you can be my sous chef. Maybe I’ll even let you stir something.”

“You keep telling yourself that, Reyes.” Paul replied and clinked his beer bottle against Carlos’. “Oh and my roommate can help us out too.”

“Roommate? Since when do you have a roommate?”

Paul shrugged.

“A few weeks. The new guy at work I told you about.”

Carlos frowned, trying to remember any new guy Paul had mentioned.

“Tyler. From New York. He’s not going home for the holidays and he doesn’t really know anyone in Austin yet.” Paul clarified.

“Right. And you take in strays now?”

“He was living in some shitty backpackers hostel! I couldn’t let him stay there. The place is a health hazard. And I have a spare room anyway.” He shrugged. “It’s just until he’s found a place of his own. He’s a nice guy. Cleans up after himself. A lot of wrong opinions about pizza though. Come to think about it, you two would probably get on great. You can be wrong about food together!”

“Are you trying to set me up with your new roomie?”

“No, but you might like the guy. You both could do with some new friends.”

“I have friends!” Carlos protested and pointed his bottle at Paul. “I have you.”

“And if you and Tyler hit it off you could have two friends!”

Carlos shook his head and took a sip of his drink.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Oh no. No, I know what ‘I’ll think about it’ means in Carlos Reyes speak. It means ‘no but I don’t want to say it to your face.’”

“No, it means I’ll think about it. I might have plans… with Marco.”

“Oh the boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Carlos insisted. “We’ve only been out a few times… I barely know him. Luisa set me up with him.”

Paul nodded.

“I remember. And you like him?”

Carlos pulled a face like the thought of admitting anything of the sort to Paul was causing him physical pain.

“I don’t know… He’s alright… He keeps asking about my job.”

“That’s what people do when they’re getting to know each other don’t they?”

“Well… yeah… but it’s all he talks about. I don’t even know what he does for a living.”

“So ask him.” Paul said simply and Carlos gave a huff in reply.

They spent the rest of the night talking about Paul’s party plans, and carefully avoiding the topic of Carlos’ love life. Which he was more than grateful for.

By the time the 24th came around, Carlos had struck a deal with his mother. He’d promised her he’d go to midnight mass with her and the rest of the family, and then spend the entire Christmas at the ranch with them, so he’d be able to go to Paul’s dinner party and help him cook in the afternoon.

They’d decided on a menu together, agreeing to stay away from any controversial dishes and just focusing on putting a nice meal together for their friends.

Carlos had managed to wrangle the guest list out of Paul, and he knew most people that would attend. All but one. The mysterious Tyler.

Paul had mentioned he’d be helping them prep and Carlos was curious about the guy. Apparently he’d moved to Texas after a break up, but Paul either didn’t know the details or didn’t feel like it was his place to share and hadn’t told him anything more.

Not even a last name, which meant Carlos couldn’t even casually run him through the system.

He parked his car outside of Paul’s building and grabbed the supplies he’d picked up from the backseat before making his way to the front door. He tried to shift the bags in his arms so he could ring the doorbell without dropping anything when someone jogged up to him.

“Wait, wait, wait! Let me get that for you.” The person said and reached around him to open the door with a key.

“Thanks…” Carlos mumbled and walked into the building, up to the elevator. The person followed him and pushed the button for him.

“What floor are you headed?” the guy asked when they stepped into the elevator.

“Uh four.”

“Me too. Do you need a hand with those bags? I can carry one for you.” The person offered. “I promise I won’t run off with them.”

Carlos chuckled and shifted one of the bags so the person could take it from him. He hadn’t been able to get a good look at them yet, just a flash of a silver grey jacket and brown hair, but when he moved the bag out of the way, he came face to face with easily the most beautiful man he’d ever seen.

“Thanks.” Carlos managed to say and the beautiful man smiled at him, making him even more beautiful.

“No problem. Do you live in this building too? I only moved in a couple of weeks ago, I don’t really know the neighbours yet.”

“Oh uh no… I’m just… visiting my friend.” Carlos stammered, mentally kicking himself for not being able to keep his cool around a cute guy. “He lives at number 425.”

“No way.”

“Uh…”

“You’re Carlos!” It was a statement, not a question.

“Uh…”

“I’m TK.” The beautiful man said as the elevator doors opened and they walked onto Paul’s floor. “Paul mentioned you would be coming over to help prepare for tonight.”

“I… oh… you… you work with Paul…” Carlos stammered.

“Yeah, and he lets me crash in his spare room until I’ve found my own place. You don’t happen to know of any apartments for rent that don’t cost a small fortune, do you?”

“No… sorry.”

“That’s too bad.” The beautiful man stopped outside of Paul’s door and put his key in the lock. “Hey, look who I ran into downstairs.” He called out to Paul when he walked into the apartment.

“Oh, great, you’ve already met. Saves me the introductions. Now let’s get to work, this meal won’t cook itself.” Paul said, clapping his hands to spur his friends on.

Carlos was put on chopping duties and did his best to focus on the task at hand. The three of them chatted a little while they worked, with mainly Paul and TK swapping work stories.

“Chicago FD could take NYFD.” Paul insisted and Carlos had no clue what they were talking about. “Hell they could take NYFD and AFD.”

TK laughed.

“Sure, sure.” He popped an olive into his mouth and Carlos was absolutely mesmerised by him. The way his eyes sparkled with mischief, the smile that never seemed to leave his face, the curve of his lips… the way they would feel against his own… the –

“Ow! Shit, shit, shit, damn it!” Carlos swore and sucked his finger into his mouth. “The knife slipped.”

TK wiped his hands on a dish towel and carefully pulled Carlos’ hand away from his mouth.

“I’m a paramedic.” He told him. “Let me see.”

“I’ll go get the first aid kit from the bathroom.” Paul announced but neither man even so much as acknowledged him.

“It’s nothing.” Carlos insisted.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” TK told him and guided him over to the sink to run his hand under the tap. “I don’t think it’s very deep.” He said after taking a closer look at the cut.” “I think a simple bandage will do.”

“Right… ok.”

“One first aid kit!” Paul said a little too loudly, dropping the box onto the kitchen table. “It cost me a small fortune so it better have everything you need.”

TK nodded and grabbed a paper towel, pressing it to the cut in Carlos’ hand.

“Keep pressure on that while I get some gauze to wrap it up.”

“You really don’t have to go through all this trouble for me… it’s just a small cut. It’ll be fine.”

“Reyes will you just let the medic treat that damn hand instead of bleeding all over my kitchen?” Paul sighed. “Your boyfriend won’t be happy if we let you bleed out on the onions.”

Carlos winced and he saw TK freeze up for a few seconds.

Damn it.

“You have a boyfriend?” TK asked, trying to sound casual, not looking at him but digging through the med kit instead.

“No!” Carlos said, a little louder than strictly necessary.

“Oh no, we’re not allowed to use the B word.” Paul said, exasperated. “They’ve just been going on dates for like three months. That’s not boyfriend behaviour at all.”

“We broke up.” Carlos blurted out, almost desperate to see TK’s reaction.

“Oh, I’m sorry man.” Paul replied, giving him a sympathetic look.

“It’s fine. He… I… we uhm… it just wasn’t working. We wanted different things.” Carlos told them. He didn’t want to go into detail, but at the same time needed TK to know he did not have a boyfriend.

“Well at least you found out now and not during a romantic dinner with an engagement ring in your pocket.” TK said, removing the paper towel from Carlos’ hand and carefully putting a gauze pad on it.

“Y-yeah.” Carlos agreed, sensing there was a story behind TK’s comment but not wanting to pry.

TK wrapped up Carlos’ hand with the care and precision of someone treating an arterial bleed, when they both knew a simple band aid would have done the trick.

“How’s that?” he asked when he put the last piece of tape on the bandage. “Not too tight?”

“It’s perfect.”

They managed to get through the rest of the afternoon without any more injuries, and Carlos had managed to compose himself and function more or less like a normal person by the time the other guests started to arrive.

He knew most of them through work and in Nancy’s case from high school math and science. He enjoyed catching up with them but still his eyes were constantly drawn to TK.

And maybe he was imagining things, but it looked like TK was looking at him too.

“Hellooo, earth to Carlos.” Nancy waved a hand in front of his face. “I asked you a question.”

“What? Sorry… I kind of zoned out for a minute there.”

“Uhuh, I noticed. I was talking about the red vs blue baseball game.”

“What about it?”

“Are you playing? Who is on the APD team? I’m trying to scope out the competition.”

“I don’t know. It’s months away.”

“She’s got a whole file with stats on everyone on the FD team on her computer.” Marjan cut in. “And she’s trying to find out who’s playing for PD so she can put together the same kind of file for them.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being prepared! I just want to win next time.” Nancy argued. “TK, do you play baseball?”

“I was in little league. I was pretty good.” TK replied. “Well according to my mom and my step dad anyway.” He laughed a little and took a sip of his drink.

“Good enough for me. We’ll have to get you to the batting cages in the new year so I can see you play.” Nancy decided.

“Who died and made you coach of the FD team?” Paul asked and the two of them got into an argument that snowballed into a debate where somehow Paul’s girlfriend Asha ended up as some kind of referee.

Carlos however could only focus on TK. He was sitting on the other side of the table, leaning back in his chair, drink in hand and an amused look on his face. He’d gotten changed before dinner and he was wearing a dark sweater with stripes across the chest and a diamond stud in his ear.

Carlos’ mouth had gone dry at the sight of him and he’d felt severely under dressed in his simple button down shirt and jeans.

“Who wants dessert?” Asha asked the group, trying to steer the conversations to a safer topic.

“I’ll get it.” Carlos said quickly, happy to be able to escape the madness for a few minutes and get his head together.

“I’ll help.” TK said, getting up from the table too and following him to the kitchen. “How’s your hand?” he asked as Carlos started pulling bowls from the kitchen cupboard.

“Oh, it’s fine.” He flexed a few times. “I barely feel it.” He smiled. “You’re a great doctor.”

“Paramedic.” TK corrected him. “It’s not the same. But thank you.”

Carlos desperately wanted to keep talking to him but didn’t know what to say. He tried to scoop some ice cream into one of the bowls but barely managed to get anything out of the container and only ended up bending the spoon.

“I guess we should have remembered to take it out of the freezer earlier.”

“Yeah… I guess so.” TK agreed. “If you run the hot water and hold the spoon under it, it’ll be easier to scoop with.” He suggested. “Or… we could just wait.”

He stepped closer to Carlos in the tiny kitchen and his eyes flicked between the other man’s eyes and lips.

There was laughter coming from the living room and someone, probably Paul, had put on some music.

“Yeah, we could… do that. I don’t think they’re really desperate for that ice cream.”

TK smiled.

“I don’t think so either…”

The two of them stared at each other for what seemed like hours until they suddenly moved at the same time.

TK grabbed a fistful of Carlos’ shirt, while Carlos’ hands were on TK’s neck, pulling him into a desperate kiss.

He felt TK’s tongue running along his lips and Carlos happily opened his mouth for him.

They kissed, and kissed, and kissed and neither of them wanted to stop.

Carlos’ hands were firmly in TK’s hair, and TK had managed to undo some of the buttons on Carlos’ shirt. They were both breathless by the time they had to come up for air.

“I’ve wanted to do that all day.” TK admitted. “I was gutted when Paul said you had a boyfriend.”

“Don’t have one of those.” Carlos insisted. “I’m very single.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

“How would you like to change that?”

#911 lone star #tarlos #tarlos fic #tk strand #carlos reyes

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