#i want to be loved and i want to be able to love but it feels like the part of me that knew how to love is long gone

[hellokittyish]

★ thinking about nanami who is the type of husband to buy you two wedding rings — one for your finger and one to hang on the end of a necklace purely so that he can watch it bounce between the valley of your breasts whenever he fucks you in missionary.

there’s just something so deeply satisfying about seeing you flushed and panting underneath him, stripped completely bare except for the jewellery he gave you at the altar adorning your soft, beautiful body.

and it never fails to make him go absolutely feral when he sees you reach up with a trembling hand to hold onto the ring around your neck while he fucks you, stopping the necklace from flying all over the place as a result of the sheer force behind each of his thrusts.

so in the blink of an eye he has both your wrists pinned to the mattress above your head with the grip of just one of his big hands, sweaty forehead meeting yours as he grunts out a raspy “don’t hide it, sweetheart. i always want to be able to see that pretty ring while i’m making love to you.”

and when he cums, he doesn’t do it inside you — because as much as he’d like to fill you up and watch his sticky mess trickle out of your puffy pussy like he usually would, he just can’t resist the urge to pull out at the very last moment and finish all over your chest instead, despite your adorable little whines of protest.

because the sight of the large diamond wedding ring hanging from your neck being splattered with his goopy white seed makes for a downright sinful portrait showcasing just how much you belong to him, and he loves it more than he would ever care to admit out loud.

so while you’re busy drifting off into a sated slumber, nanami quietly captures a photo of the lewd visual before him, saving it to the only folder he has, which is aptly named ‘my sweet wife’.

truly a romantic, in every sense of the word.

[lizziesangel]

thinking of rafe cameron helping you to fall asleep

the gentle hum of the air conditioning was the only sound breaking the silence of the bedroom. you lay sprawled on your side, staring at the digital clock on the nightstand. 2:47 am. you groaned softly, turning onto your back, frustrated with your inability to fall asleep for the third night in a row.

beside you, rafe stirred. his golden hair was tousled, and his breathing had been deep and even—until now. his arm slid across your stomach, pulling you closer.

“baby,” he mumbled, voice gravelly with sleep. “what’s wrong? you keep moving.”

you hesitated. you hadn’t wanted to wake him up. “sorry. i just… i can’t sleep.”

he propped himself up on one elbow, concern flickering in his blue eyes even in the dim light. “again?”

you nodded, biting your lip. “i don’t know what’s wrong. i feel tired, but the moment i lie down, my brain won’t shut up.”

rafe frowned thoughtfully, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “what’s on your mind?”

“nothing specific. it’s like my thoughts are just… spinning.”

he sighed, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “okay, let me help. stay here.”

before you could protest, he was out of bed and heading toward the kitchen. a moment later, he returned with a glass of milk and handed it to you. “drink this. sometimes it helps.”

you accepted the glass, smiling softly at his effort. “thanks, baby.”

once you set it down, rafe climbed back into bed and pulled you into his arms, resting your head on his chest. his fingers began tracing soothing patterns on your back.

“close your eyes,” he murmured. “focus on my voice. i’ll talk you to sleep.”

you chuckled softly, though you did as he said. “what are you going to talk about?”

“anything that keeps your mind off whatever’s bothering you,” he replied. “like… remember that trip we took to the bahamas last summer? the sunset on the beach, how you made us walk to the prettiest sight just to get the perfect photo? you looked so happy then.”

the memory made you smile. “yeah, that was a good day.”

“exactly,” he said, his voice low and steady. “think about that. the sound of the waves, the sand under your feet, the warmth of the sun on your face.”

his words painted the scene vividly in your mind, and the tension in your body began to melt away. rafe continued, his voice like a lullaby, recounting favorite moments, funny stories, and little things he loved about you.

before you knew it, your breathing had slowed, and your thoughts were no longer spinning. you felt yourself sinking into the comfort of his arms, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a cocoon.

“rafe,” you whispered, barely able to keep your eyes open.

“yeah, princess?”

“thank you.”

he kissed the top of your head, his hand still stroking your back. “always, sweet girl. just sleep now. i’ve got you.”

and with that, you finally drifted off, safe and sound in the arms of the one person who could always make everything better.

MASTERLIST

[monstersflashlight]

Christmas special: Santa is coming tonight

A/N: Merry Christmas to everyone celebrating! Hope Santa was good with his presents… As good as he is in this story. Here I describe Santa as something akin to a demon, and has magic, just to make it make a bit more sense. Enjoy!

Santa (monster) x fem!reader || (very light) dom/sub, (light) marking, oral sex, breeding, size kink, mentions of body modification, magic sex (?)

When you started dating Santa, you expected a lot of things, but him being an absolute himbo wasn’t one of them.

He wasn’t only a himbo, but also incredibly clumsy, to the point that on your first date he accidentally tripped and send your food (and his) to the ground. Along with the broken pieces of the table and the chair he fell onto. Having incredible strength and a body as big as a wall is not great when you have no control over them, apparently.

He was so lucky the elves had everything controlled and he only needed to show up on the big day and do the things… He wouldn't be able to do shit if it was all his responsibility. And well, you didn’t mind it. You didn’t mind it at all. It made you hot all over that he was so incredibly stupid, but also so incredibly hot.

He was pretty clear since the begging that he was in for all, that he not only wanted to date you, but he wanted to marry you and turn you into a magical being just as he was. So who could have blamed you for running away? That was insane to say to somebody you barely knew.

But you should have known better. He was magic after all…

Also, his dick was so good you could accept everything he said if he asked while he was buried deep inside. You were a simple girl after all: he gave you a good (incredible, fantastic, phenomenal… and all the good adjectives possible) dicking, and you accepted his marriage proposal. It was a good pact, you got good dick and a loving husband, and he got a wife to adore. Perfect combination.

And what you loved most about him… what how crazy he got after Christmas Night.

It was like all the adrenaline and magic high made his body bigger, stronger, harder… And he used it to his advantage, and you… you enjoyed it more than anything.

And this year wasn’t different.

He came home to find you in your prettiest, skimpiest lingerie, the one you made the elves made for you and hugged your curves in the best way possible. In a way that made your boobs stand to attention as your body tingled with anticipation when the siren alerting everyone of his arrival started ringing.

He walked into your room with his face sweaty, his red suit half undone and looking so hot you were salivating. It only took one look at you in your flimsy clothes for him to turn into the demon he was inside. He growled, his fangs elongating and his skin turning the prettiest pattern of red and white. He looked a bit like a candy cane when he got aroused, and weirdly enough, you dig it.

You stared at him as he crossed the room in less than three steps, grabbing you by the hips and hoisting you up until your legs were wrapped around his middle and his hands were groping your ass. He devoured your mouth like a starving man, grunting and scratching your lips with the force of the kiss.

His hands were all over, probing and pinching, groping and caressing until you were a mess of moans and groans on his arms and you could feel his big… Christmas present pressing against your ass. His hand found your pussy over the lace, rubbing against your needy clit, praising you about how wet you were for him already.

He was kissing your neck when he whispered: “You’ve been so good, Santa is coming twice tonight”.

You stared at his bearded face and extended canines, dumbfounded by the stupidest line he ever said to you. And then you busted out laughing. “You did- you did not say that,” you let out, still laughing. To the point where your eyes were teary and your face was probably as red as he was.

“What?” He asked, completely confused at the change in the mood.

That made your amusement die down a bit, only chuckling as you explained. “Honey, I love you dearly, but you can’t say shit like that when you are touching my pussy, it throws the whole mood off.” He looked like a kicked puppy and you couldn’t have that. You hated when he looked like that.

You pulled him down by his hair, making him groan when you claimed his mouth in a possessive kiss, trying to make everything better. He grunted against your lips, and bite down on your lower lip, drawing a bit of blood. That always drove him crazy, and this time wasn’t different.

He pulled back and roared, pushing you back to the mattress and ripping your clothes off, snapping his fingers to make his own suit disappear. (You asked once why he didn’t do that with your clothes and he simply said he liked to rip them out, and you couldn’t argue with that logic).

A blink later, you were laying on the bed, your legs pushed far apart as he drove for your pussy with hunger. He licked and sucked until you were chanting his name, just to push two of his too big fingers inside your tight hole. It was too much, too soon, but it felt so great you couldn’t stop moaning. He grunted against your vulnerable flesh when you started moving your hips, using his nose and his mouth as you pleased, your fingers pulling at his hair in a way that you knew turned him on.

“Just like that, use me for your pleasure, make yourself come, my love,” he whispered inside your head, his voice reverberating inside your brain and making you let out a startled noise. He pulled back for a second, smirking at you with his fangs out before pushing a third and fourth finger inside your pussy.

“Santa, fuck. Klaus!” You screamed as your orgasm took you by surprise, rushing over you like a tidal wave as he rode it with you.

When you came back to your senses, he was over you, holding his weight on his hands, caging your body against the mattress and making you want to bite down on his hard muscles. You did, because you could, causing him to curse and push forward, the tip of his huge dick breaching your already stretched hole.

He cursed some more as he took his time bottoming out. You never got used to how big he was, how wide he stretched you and how deep you could feel him. You knew he must use some kind of magic, because there was no way your human body could take that much dick without permanent damage, but he never said so, and you like it that way. You liked that he used magic on you, that he made your pussy so perfect for himself it drove him crazy every time you two fucked.

He gave you a couple minutes to adjust, breathing hard over you, kissing every piece of skin he could reach until you were giggling and rolling your hips, urging him to move.

And good goddess did he move.

He set a punishing pace, treating you like the naughtiest of girls as he fucked you into oblivion. He moved your legs over his shoulders, fucking you deeper and harder as his thumb found your clit. He pressed down with his palm at the same time he pushed up his dick, the pressure was so intense and so pleasurable you couldn’t hold back a second orgasm, closing your eyes and arching your back as you came messily around his dick.

“Fuck,” he roared. His head thrown back, his white hair hanging over his shoulders and making him look almost ethereal as the tendons in his neck tensed and he let out the loudest cry of pleasure known to man. You bet every part of the North Pole heard him, but you didn’t care at all because he wasn’t stopping.

He fucked you full until you felt his release gushing around his dick. With each thrust you could feel the mixture of juices coming out around his length. It was filthy, it was exhilarating, and it sent you over the edge once again.

He pressed his chest again your back and asked: “I told you I was coming twice, didn’t I?” You groaned and he turned you into your front, fucking you from behind. “By the time the night is over, you are going to get more than one present from Santa,” he promised.

If you weren’t dumb with pleasure and post-orgasm bliss, you might have laughed again, but your brain was too empty to process his words. You could only process the way his hips were bouncing against your ass cheeks, the clap clap sound sending you into oblivion.

Your arms and legs couldn’t hold your weight any longer, so you were flat against the mattress as he rutted his hips against your stretched hole. You could hear the way his come was leaking out as he fucked it back in. It was filthy in the best possible way and your body was reacting to it.

You were so close to another orgasm, your body trembling. And when he pulled you up by your hips, the angle hit you in the best way possible, his dick rubbing against your G-spot as he pounded your pussy until you were drooling over the sheets in pleasure and he was chanting your name like a prayer.

You screamed his name until you were hoarse, and he kept fucking you. He fucked two more orgasms out of you, your body sagging against him, trusting him to take care of every part of you as he pounded into your welcoming heat over and over.

“I’m going to fuck you until you don’t know your own name,” he grunted, accelerating his pace until his hips were barely a blur and your body was trembling with the force of his thrusts. It was the best experience of your life. “Your pussy is so greedy, it won’t stop swallowing me in, clenching over my length… How eager,” his words weren’t even for you, he was talking to himself, but it made your eyes roll back into your head as you orgasmed again, whispering his name because your throat was too sore to scream anymore.

Your orgasm sent him over the edge, and he pushed all his weight over you as he came and came and came. He filled you until you couldn’t hold it in anymore, his come dripping around his shaft inside of you, making a mess of your pussy and the sheets. But you didn’t care. You couldn’t care. You only had thoughts about how good it felt, how full you were and how fucking much you loved every second of it.

And how you couldn’t wait till next year to do it again.

[headkiss]

it’s christmas (this is gonna be a nightmare)

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve puts a little too much pressure on himself to make this holiday a magical one. or: 4 times steve messes up your first christmas together, +1 time it's perfect.

word count: 7.4k

content: established relationship, one injury (no blood!), some kisses, a lot of steve's thoughts, and a love confession <3 fluff all around!!!

a/n: a full length fic!! it's a christmas miracle!! thank you to the anon who sent the ask that inspired this fic and to all of u for being here. i love u, happy holidays <3

⁺̇◍̇̇̇⁺̇̇̇⊛̇̇̇̇⁺̇̇̇◍̇̇̇⁺̇

Steve Harrington doesn’t know too much about what exactly a perfect Christmas looks like. He has his parents to thank for that.

What he does know is that this year has to be just that: perfect. Because this year he has you.

Though you went to high school together, you and Steve properly met in the summer. Right at the beginning of it, where the evenings still have a chill of wind but the sun cuts through it with welcomed warmth. Robin convinced him to take her to the flower shop just outside of town, and you’d been behind the counter to greet them.

Robin recognized you, and she chatted your ear off while you helped her pick a bouquet with the sweetest smile Steve had ever seen and he felt like an absolute moron for never having noticed you before at school. But he noticed you then.

He’d forced Robin to wait for him in the car while he stayed back, bought you your own bouquet of flowers from the store as if you weren’t the one who’d made them, and asked you on a date. Steve fumbled the whole way through, pricking himself with a rose thorn and cussing mid-sentence, but you still said yes.

You’ve been together ever since, and Steve feels incredibly lucky for it. Lucky for how kind you are, how well you fit in with his friends, how much the kids (Max, especially, though he won’t call her out on it) like you. Lucky for being allowed to grab your hand, to kiss you whenever he wants.

And, on the nights you stay over that grow more frequent with each month, lucky to have you fill the space in the Harrington home that usually feels so cold and empty.

So, maybe the holidays make him extra sentimental, maybe he cares a little too much about making sure it’s the best damn Christmas you could have. Maybe, for once, he’s actually looking forward to it all.

Robin startles him into the present — leaning on the counter at Family Video — with a stiff poke to the cheek. “Dude, I can literally tell you’re thinking about her by the look on your face. It’s kinda gross.”

He scoffs at her, even though he probably was making a face. “Sounds like jealousy to me, Buckley.”

“Shut up, if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even know each other! I deserve compensation.”

Steve hangs his head dramatically. Robin is never letting that go. Ever.

“My friendship isn’t enough for you?” Steve says, placing a hand over his heart, “You wound me.”

“You annoy me,” she says, flicking his arm.

“Ow- whatever. You’ll be free of me in like five minutes.”

Steve checks his watch just to be sure. Robin’s closing by herself today, and while Steve would normally just stay and bother her anyways, he’s got plans that involve you and takeout and napping together on his couch.

As if the thought conjures it, you walk through the door, the bell jingling cheerily above your head, Steve’s car keys dangling from your fingertips. (Yes, he lets you drive the BMW.)

“Thank God,” Robin says when she sees it’s you. “Please get rid of him, he’s getting on my nerves.”

You smile and walk towards Steve, who immediately tosses an arm over your shoulders and pulls you in close, stamping a kiss to the side of your head.

You turn your head to the side and look at him, “What did you do?”

Steve gasps, “Me? Honey, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

You send him a wink, and Steve grins. He fucking loves having you with him, being able to speak without speaking. Your hand grabbing his and squeezing says I missed you, his squeezing back says me too.

“Okay, please remove your public displays of affection from the store and leave me alone with the overplayed Christmas song radio station, thank you.” Robin announces.

“Don’t miss me too much, Robs. I know it’ll be tough,” Steve says, guiding you forward.

“Good to see you, Robin!” you wave on your way out.

“You too!” And just before the door closes behind you, Robin’s voice rings out; “You’re my favourite half of the relationship!”

Your smile widens. Steve is the best thing that’s happened to you, and his friends becoming yours is one of the greatest bonuses you could ask for. It’s like his life made room for you as simply as the ocean’s tide pulls in and out. Gentle and certain.

He catches the keys when you toss them to him, and Steve’s mood just seems to lift and lift on the drive back to his place with you in the passenger seat, Christmas lights lining the streets glowing on your cheeks.

Yeah, he thinks, this Christmas is going to be perfect.

-

1.

That weekend Steve calls you and tells you to be ready by noon and to dress warmly. He doesn’t tell you much else besides his usual ‘see you soon, honey’ or ‘miss you’ murmured sweetly through the phone.

As instructed, you’re dressed in a pair of jeans and one of your favourite knitted sweaters, your brown leather jacket overtop and socked feet stuffed into your Doc Martens. Though you feel plenty warm, Steve will probably fuss over you and hold you close for body heat anyways. And, well, you’d never be opposed to that.

Steve’s BMW rolls into your driveway exactly one minute past twelve, and by the time you walk outside to meet him, he’s already standing on the passenger side of the car waiting to open the door for you.

“Always a gentleman,” you say, kissing him quickly on the cheek.

You slide into the seat that’s become yours for the most part, and Steve ducks down to kiss you properly on the mouth before pulling back, “Mm maybe not always.”

He closes your door and you laugh lightly, your face a little warm even though he’s been your boyfriend for months now. You don’t think you’ll ever be unaffected by Steve Harrington’s charm, ever be used to it being aimed at you.

Of course, you knew of him in school, but knowing the real thing, the kind, caring boy who’d been buried under King Steve back then, is probably the greatest gift you’ve ever had.

Steve drives with one hand just above your knee, his thumb running back and forth over the stitching in your jeans. Still, he doesn’t tell you where he’s taking you, his only hint was to “pay attention to the radio station.”

It’s playing Christmas music. Like that narrows things down a whole bunch.

You chat the entire way. Steve asks you how the flower shop is doing (“Poinsettias are flying off the shelves”), you ask him who he got for the group’s secret Santa this year (“Max. I’m going to need your assistance”). It’s so easy to talk to him, to laugh and joke and not have to worry about what you say or how you come off.

You never knew being with someone could be so easy until Steve.

Eventually, he pulls into the long driveway of a farm. A Christmas tree farm, to be exact, if the wooden arch you drive through is to be trusted.

“What are you planning, Harrington?”

He shrugs, his hand squeezing your knee, “Thought we could pick out a tree together. Put it up at the house. My parents aren’t gonna be around — shocker, I know — I figured we’d do it together. Make it our own.”

Steve pats your leg before letting it go and putting the car in park, his palms dragging over his thighs like he’s suddenly nervous.

“Our first Christmas tree,” you say quietly, almost to yourself, a smile creeping onto your face. He really is sweet. “I love it. Let’s go adopt a tree, Stevie.”

He flashes you a smile before getting out and jogging around the hood to open your door for you. You’ve learned to wait for him to do it since you’ve been together. The last time you tried to open your own door he made you close it again just so he could be the one to open it.

Before, you’d never really cared about that sort of thing, but Steve has single-handedly raised your expectations.

He grabs your hand and leads you towards the classic red and white barn, following the signs painted simply with a tree and an arrow pointing you in that direction.

When you turn the corner and see the selection of trees, however, Steve pauses.

There are maybe seven trees left, none of which are very impressive upon first glance. Their branches are skinny and the pine needles leave a lot of space to see through them. It’s safe to say these aren’t the Christmas trees Steve was hoping to surprise you with.

He was sure there’d be something better left, at least. And he’d been wrong. Minus a point on that perfect Christmas, he supposes.

Still, he walks you to the selection, the farm’s employee greeting the two of you as you walk up; “Hey y’all. Good afternoon!”

“Hey man,” Steve starts, “you wouldn’t happen to have any more trees left, would you?”

“Sorry folks, this is all we’ve got. Most people like to get ‘em early.”

Steve’s hope dwindles, and you can see him deflate a little bit.

You, however, don’t mind one bit. You tug on his arm to get his attention, and Steve turns to look at you, brown eyes shining like honey in the sunlight. “It’s okay,” you tell him. “Even the little trees need homes, right?”

He shakes his head with a small smile. It’s cute, he thinks, the way you tend to talk about plants as if they have feelings. You do it when you tell him about the flowers you sell, too.

“Right as usual, honey,” he decides. “Pick your favorites.”

So, you wind up with two small Christmas trees rather than one full one, and there’s a small victory in it when you and Steve strap them both to the top of the BMW without too much of a struggle.

Another victory when you sing along to ‘Last Christmas’ and hold out your fist as if there’s a microphone in your grip to get him to join you. Admittedly, it isn’t a very good rendition, but Steve loves it all the same.

You have a way of turning things around for him, even without knowing it.

When you get back to Steve’s, he brings both of the trees inside and sets them up before bringing down the bins of ornaments and lights from the attic. He only shouted once when a spider crawled over his hand.

Having two trees makes it easy to turn decorating into a lighthearted competition. You both claim one as your own and decorate them with string lights and tinsel and ornaments. Steve’s mom would probably have an aneurysm seeing them used so haphazardly.

Though by the end, your tree is definitely prettier, Steve still feels like he’s won something as you lean your back against his chest and his arms cross over your own, keeping you there.

As a kid, he wasn’t even allowed to do the decorating. Mrs. Harrington had to make everything look picture perfect, and Steve’s hands didn’t help with that. Not according to her.

Today couldn’t feel more different from those memories of his childhood.

“Yours is better,” he tells you, chin perched on your shoulder, his voice low in your ear.

Objectively, it probably is better (your prior experience with arranging plants was an advantage), but you don’t actually care about that.

Today felt like a little glimpse into the future you and Steve could have. It’s easy to picture it: your own apartment, buying decorations you both actually like, setting it all up together every year.

“I think they’re both brilliant,” you say.

And while today wasn’t what he was picturing, wasn’t what he’d hoped for with his ideal holiday in mind, Steve finds that he can certainly live with that. Your adorable little clap when you’d finished decorating was enough to cement it.

It’s only one thing. He’s got plenty of chances to be perfect later, he guesses.

Steve dips his head and kisses the top of your shoulder over your sweater.

-

2.

You stay over at Steve’s that weekend. You’re both off work, and you find yourself spending your days (and nights) off with Steve more and more.

In the morning, you blink your eyes open slowly, naturally. No alarm set, your boy wrapped around you. It’s how you’ll spend every morning someday.

The sunlight sneaks through a crack in the curtains, cutting a line across Steve’s blue bedding. You squint at it, shifting onto your back gently. Steve’s arm remains slung over your waist as you move, his knee against your leg. You roll your head to the side to look at him, a smile creeping over your mouth at the way his cheek is smushed into the pillow, his lips pouting and hair a mess over his forehead.

Mornings have easily become your favorite time to spend with Steve. He’s cuddling you in some way every single time without fail, even when he wakes up. His voice is all low and gravelly from sleep and it feels like an honor to get to be the one to hear it like that. Usually, you spend an hour in bed with him after waking up. Laying together, talking, kissing. Sometimes (often) more.

You’d stay put right now if you didn’t have to pee so bad.

Slipping out of bed without Steve noticing proves a challenge, his arm tightens over you in his sleep, his brows scrunching. You whisper a soft “I’ll be right back.” He mumbles something incoherent, but his arm relaxes and you’re able to sneak away.

On your way back from the bathroom, you pause and take a peek out the window. You gasp happily at what you see: snow. A bright, white layer blanketing the ground sparkling in the sunlight.

You turn back to the bed and let yourself fall to it with a bounce, earning another grumbled protest from Steve, but there’s no way you’re going back to sleep now. You trail a hand up his arm to his shoulder, giving it a small shake, “Stevie, wake up.”

“Hm?” his eyes scrunch before opening. “What happened, honey?”

“It snowed!”

“Yeah?” he huffs a laugh at your excitement, his hand searching for yours in the sheets.

“Yeah, and it’s so pretty. We should go out before it melts.”

“It’s winter, sweetheart. Not gonna melt that fast.”

“Steve.”

“Okay, okay,” his hand leaves yours in favor of wrapping itself around you again, and he uses it to tug you close again. “Just five more minutes.”

His nose is pressed to the top of your head, and he breathes you in, smiling to himself. Mornings are Steve’s favorite, too. Only when they’re spent with you.

Secretly, he’s also happy about the snow. He was hoping mother nature would be on his side so that he could check yet another holiday item off his list with you. Hopefully one that will turn out nicer than the tiny trees you’d ended up with.

It’s definitely more than five minutes by the time you get Steve to get up and out of bed. You attempt to get him outside right away. He stops you with a: “No snow-related activities on an empty stomach!”

So, it’s a rushed breakfast of bagels and coffee provided by Steve, and then you’re gearing up and heading into the back yard.

The cold bites at your cheeks, and the tip of Steve’s nose is pink within minutes, but you love it.

There’s a snowman built together, snow angels made that get ruined when Steve rolls himself on top of you and steals a kiss or five. Naturally, all there is left to do is have a snowball fight.

You start it when you’re still on the ground, a hand sneaking into the snow to grab a handful and pressing it to the back of Steve’s head. He gasps, and you take the opportunity to push him to the side and get up.

“No fair!” he calls. “I was distracted and you went for the hair.”

“Your fault for not wearing a hat, babe,” you laugh.

“Oh, you won’t be laughing for long, honey. You’re in for it.”

And just like that, you’re running around like kids in a schoolyard, hiding behind trees, slugging snowballs at each other and cheering when you manage to not miss.

Steve silently thanks mother nature or the universe or whatever made it snow for the wide smile on your face, your eyes shining with mirth.

At one point, you’re suddenly distracted by something in the trees, and the snowball is out of Steve’s hand before he sees you start to look towards him again.

It hits you square in the face.

A quick “Ow” comes out of your mouth, though it really doesn’t hurt that bad. Your first reaction is just to let it slip, but Steve’s heart sinks to his stomach.

“Shit, honey.” He runs over to you and cups your face in his hands, his mittens soft against your skin as he brushes the snow from your face. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t tryin’ to get you in the face.”

Minus another point, for sure. Perfect Christmas: -2.

“I know, don’t worry,” you tell him, because he clearly is worrying.

“You okay?” he checks. He literally winces when you sniffle, frowns when he sees the way your eyes water. “Honey. I’m sorry.”

“Honestly, Steve, I’m fine,” you reach up and grab his wrists, squeezing them over his jacket. “I’m only crying ‘cause it got my nose. It doesn’t actually hurt.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” you assure him. “Didn’t you used to play sports in school? Thought athletes had better aim.”

“I was a swimmer, baby. No projectiles involved.” He smiles softly when you laugh, but he can’t stop himself from asking one more time. “You’re really not hurt?”

“It’s just a bit of snow, Stevie.”

His eyes run over your face anyway before he nods. Then, he dips forwards and lightly kisses your cheek, the other, the tip of your nose, and your mouth.

“Well now I’m certainly all better,” you say against his lips.

Steve pulls back but doesn’t go far. “I think this snowball fight is over.”

“Buzzkill,” you tease.

He bends down and picks up a handful of snow before shoving it in his own face.

“Steve!” you laugh.

“There, now we’re even,” he says, snowflakes clinging to his lashes.

You let him lead you inside after that, his arm draping over your shoulders, yours hugging his middle as you walk across the yard.

Once you’ve both shed your layers of coats and boots and hats and mittens, Steve takes you upstairs and runs you a bath to warm you up. He apologizes another two times when he looks at your face for too long, and you have to kiss him to stop him uttering another ‘sorry.’

Hell, if it’s gonna make him this sweet on you, you’d probably take a snowball to the face any day.

Eventually, when the bathtub is full, a layer of bubbles over the surface, you coax Steve into joining you. He leans against the side with you between his knees, back settling into its home against his chest, his chin resting atop your head.

Steve runs his hands over your shoulders, presses kisses into your hair. All along he’s reminding himself that the next thing will go right. He won’t be throwing anything, at least.

-

3.

The next weekend Steve calls you again. He asks you to be ready in the evening this time, but still keeps things vague other than the fact that you’ll be outside and need thick socks.

You have a pretty good idea of what he has in mind, but he’d called it a ‘redemption date’ over the phone and even though you truly don’t think he has anything to redeem himself for, you don’t want to spoil his plans, so you play along.

He comes to the front door when he picks you up this time, knocking gently as if you hadn’t been waiting for him by the windows.

“Hi, honey,” he drops a quick kiss to your lips, “had to come and approve your outfit. Don’t want you getting cold and stealing my jacket again.”

He’s lying, really. Steve fucking loves draping his own jacket over your shoulders and seeing you pull it tighter around you. When that happens, he braves the cold, but he figures that probably won’t be smart for spending hours outside.

“Aww, but yours is so much warmer than mine,” you pout jokingly.

Steve simply grabs your thickest jacket from a hook by the door and holds it out for you to slip your arms into.

As suspected, he drives you to a skating rink. He chose one a town over from Hawkins, where they have twinkle lights strung above the rink and rainbow Christmas lights lining the boards. Steve smiles when you gasp lightly in delight at the sight of it. The brightness cutting through the already dark night sky.

Steve guides you over to the skate rental booth first, bumping his hip into yours when you attempt to pay for the rentals. “As if. My idea, my wallet.”

“You don’t even let me pay when it’s my idea, either.”

“Well, that’s just chivalry, babe.”

You roll your eyes at him and thank the man behind the booth when he hands you both your skates. As you walk towards the lockers and cubbies set up nearby, you lean up and kiss Steve’s cheek, his light stubble scratching your lips.

“Thank you for this,” you say.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he tells you. “Though I should warn you that I’m not very good at this.”

“What? You, not good at something? Please.”

“No, seriously. I’m like bambi on ice.”

You laugh and shove his shoulder weakly, “Don’t worry. I’m probably even worse.”

Steve grins. So far, so good. This one will be perfect. Well, as perfect as it can be considering his skating skills.

You sit on one of the benches and Steve puts both of your shoes in one of the cubbies. He ties his own skates first before kneeling in front of you to help you with yours. He knows how to tie them, at the very least.

He helps you slip your feet into the skates first, then tightens the laces on one before peering up at you and checking, “Feel okay? Not too tight?”

“It’s good, Steve. I feel like Cinderella.”

“A perfect fit! She must be the one!”

“Dork.”

“That’s prince dork to you.”

Steve finishes up with your skates, squeezing your ankle before setting your foot down and standing back up.

On the ice, neither of you are very graceful. You hold onto the boards most of the time, and Steve stumbles and nearly falls every few strides, but you’re laughing and having fun, so who cares?

So what if you get lapped by multiple people on the rink, including children? So what if you get some side eyes for being too slow or in the way? Neither of you can bring yourselves to be bothered.

Best of all, Steve keeps a hold on your hand the entire time. He literally saves you from falling with his grip on your hand squeezing and pulling you up straight.

However, your hands being clasped also means that, inevitably, when one of you goes down, you both do.

It happens after a decent amount of laps; your toe pick catches on a dip in the ice and it’s all it takes for you to lose your balance. Steve somehow twists himself to catch the brunt of your fall.

He expected that to come with some pain, a couple bruises, maybe. Instead, his wrist twists painfully against the ice as he falls, as if he’d tried to catch himself with it, and he can’t help the hiss of pain that comes out when he lands.

“You okay, honey?” he asks you.

“Of course I am. I landed on you, Stevie. Are you okay?”

He tests his wrist out by flexing it, wiggling his fingers, and he tries to hide it but he winces when he does, a sharp pain shooting up his arm. “M’fine.”

“Bullshit, I saw that wince, Harrington.” You manage to get back up on your feet and hold out a hand for him to grab, “Up, I’m taking you to the ER.”

“No, no. I’m good.”

“Steve.”

“Baby.”

“Come on, you don’t want to make it worse, do you?” you urge him. “Plus, I’ll only keep worrying and bugging you about it until you let me take you to the doctor. Your wrist is already swelling, babe.”

Mostly because he doesn’t like the thought of you worrying about him, Steve agrees.

When both of your skates are off (your doing, this time) and given back to the booth, you reach into Steve’s coat pocket and grab the keys to the BMW. He doesn’t protest, and that alone tells you he must be hurting more than he’s letting on. You even manage to open your own door for once.

Steve’s quiet on the drive to the hospital, his hand resting limply on his leg. His brows are furrowed, his eyes squeezing shut every so often when a burst of pain comes. You do your best to avoid any pot holes or bumps along the way.

Once there, you make him sit in one of the waiting room chairs, “I’ll get the check in forms and everything. Stay put, yeah?”

“Your wish is my command,” he says, trying to joke. His voice wobbles a tiny bit, though.

It’s at least an hour of waiting before someone can see him (and that’s including your many pesterings to the front desk). You don’t mean to be a bother, but you’ve never seen Steve injured in any serious capacity, and it’s messing with your head.

He took the weight of that fall to make sure you wouldn’t get hurt. The way he pays attention to things like that is one of the many reasons you love him.

You love him. You haven’t said the words to each other yet, but you’ve felt them for a long time already. It’s hard not to love Steve Harrington.

Finally, the doctor takes him back, and you follow. After an x-ray and some prodding, he determines that it’s a sprained wrist and that he should keep it wrapped for a few weeks to make sure it heals. They give him a prescription for some mild painkillers, too, for the first couple of days.

You breathe a sigh of relief knowing it isn’t broken, but Steve’s shoulders are still slumped.

He’s in pain, sure, his wrist now wrapped up in a tensor bandage, but really he feels defeated at messing yet another thing up. Third strike.

Steve lets you guide him back to the car and drive back to his place. You’ve decided you’re staying the night to take care of him, and as much as he hates looking weak or feeling useless, he’s glad to have you around.

You dote on him back at home, grabbing an ice pack from the freezer after making sure he’s settled on the couch, throwing a frozen pizza in the oven, bringing him meds and water.

“Honey, it’s just a sprain. Please stop fussing and sit with me.”

His brown eyes shine a little, and you could never say no to him when he looks at you like that.

You sit beside him and he drops his head to your shoulder, your hand coming up to play with the strands at the nape of his neck, scratching his scalp gently. His uninjured hand rests on your thigh and squeezes.

“Best painkiller ever,” he says.

-

4.

Steve has convinced himself that nothing could possibly go wrong this time around.

His plans for today involve staying at home, just you and him, no outside forces to deal with or avoid. So much less potential for failure. That’s what he thinks, at least.

Steve knows nearly every piece of you, so, obviously he knows you like to bake. You’d made him a cake for his birthday, and every so often you bring him other treats from home. Naturally, that meant that there was no way he was leaving out Christmas baking.

He’d considered doing gingerbread houses, and then remembered that the last time he tried that in a competition with the kids, his house was nothing more than a messy pile of gingerbread slabs. One with a bite taken out of it.

So, considering his past failures this holiday season, he’d settled on something that he thinks — hopes — is really hard to mess up: sugar cookies.

His mother’s collection of cookbooks had never been used for more than decoration until now. Steve searched through them until he found a recipe, wrote down the ingredients, and bought them at the grocery store to make sure he had everything.

In school, he never did much studying, but he reread the hell out of that recipe in order to get at least this one thing right.

The tensor bandage is still wrapped around his wrist, which is fucking annoying, really. He has to adjust it every day, and it’s hard to do with a single hand. He much prefers when you do it for him, sealing it with a featherlight kiss.

Worse, the thing still hurts, and you refused to let him drive and put more strain on it than necessary, so you took the bus and walked the rest of the way to his house.

He’s got all of the ingredients and tools laid out on the island when you ring the doorbell. “Hurry up, Harrington, it’s freezing!”

Hurry he does. He lets you in and helps you unwrap yourself from your bundle of a scarf and hat and mittens and jacket. Steve dips in to kiss your cheek, your skin cold against his lips. “Wouldn’t have to freeze if you let me come get you.”

“I don’t want you hurting yourself for no reason, I’m fine,” you grab his uninjured hand and kiss the pads of his fingers, “and I like these hands.”

He smiles at your words, smug, “Yeah, I know you do, honey.”

You shake your head at him, but you’re smiling all the same, “I take it back. Your ego is getting too big.”

“Nooo, it’s just the right size,” he winks.

“Don’t you have plans, Steve?” you ask, changing the subject. “Getting a little off track, aren’t we?”

“Later, then,” he says, taking your hand with his good one and leading you to the kitchen.

You pause at the entryway of the kitchen, scanning over the things on the island, two aprons Steve must’ve dug up from somewhere hanging from the knobs of the cabinets.

“Tada,” he says, “we’re making cookies.”

“This might be my favourite one yet, Stevie.” You walk over and grab one of the aprons, leaving the other (a pink floral number) for Steve. “I’m in charge, though.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says, taking the other apron without a complaint. “This is your kitchen today, chef.”

“Mm. That has a nice ring to it.”

“Chef honey,” he says, planting a kiss where your neck meets your shoulder, breath warm even through your shirt.

You get started after that. Predictably, you make a mess with flour on the island and mixing bowls strewn about the surface. You get distracted with a bit of a flour war somewhere in there, Steve smudging it onto your cheek, you onto the tip of his nose.

When it’s time to roll out the dough and cut out the cookies, Steve grabs a handful of cookie cutters from one of the drawers, setting them onto the counter with a small clang. They’re all holiday themed. Candy canes and snowmen and Christmas trees.

“Someone’s prepared,” you say, bumping your hip against his.

“I run a serious establishment here, baby.”

“I thought I was in charge.”

Soon enough, after sneaking bites of raw cookie dough and cutting out as many cookies as you could manage, they’re placed into the oven, the timer set.

You end up in the living room, a random channel playing on the TV while the cookies bake. It starts innocently enough, just sitting next to each other, shoulders and thighs pressed together.

Then, Steve’s good hand wanders, starting above your knee and moving up and up until he’s squeezing the top of your thigh, tracing patterns with his thumb. When he speaks a husky, “Come closer?” how could you ever say no?

So, somehow, you’ve ended up straddling Steve’s lap, his injured hand resting loosely on your waist, the other pressed in between your shoulder blades to keep you close. Yours are in his hair, running through the strands, tugging even.

It grows heated fast, and all of a sudden you’re making out like a pair of teenagers, Steve urging you to press further down in his lap, to writhe there while his mouth works yours until it’s all you can think about. All you can feel.

The room feels warmer, Steve’s jeans tighter over his lap, your chest bumping against his, hearts racing. Even just kissing him feels better than anything you’ve ever had in the past.

He kisses you like he’s starved everytime, sometimes a ravenous hunger, like now, or, when he’s gentler, something tender and soft. A sweet tooth.

The cookies are long forgotten. The timer sounds and nobody hears it. You would keep going forever, if you could. But then there’s the smell that hits your nostrils. The smell of something burning.

“Steve?” you say against his mouth.

“Uh-huh?” he breathes.

“Do you smell that?”

He pulls back, and it’s immediately after you say the words that the alarm goes off, piercing through the air, killing the mood, much to your dismay. Even more to Steve’s.

“Fuck,” he groans.

You’re both rushing to the kitchen then. You, fumbling off his lap, him beating you to the kitchen and frantically taking the baking sheet out of the oven and turning the thing off. You grab a towel from the counter and start fanning beneath the alarm to get it to go off, and when the cookies are dealt with, Steve joins the efforts.

Eventually the thing stops beeping, and you both rest your arms. The room still looks a little cloudy, the cookies black at the edges.

Steve doesn’t say anything, only rests his elbows on the island and slumps his head, defeated.

He’s so frustrated with himself. Not for kissing you. No, he could never be mad at that, but at the outcome of his final attempt at a holiday date going south again.

You frown at him, walking over and placing a hand on his back, rubbing gentle circles. “Steve? You okay?”

“I just- I messed it up again.”

“Hey, I’m as much to blame as you are. It takes two to tango, as they say.”

He huffs a weak laugh, picking his head up and twisting to look at you. Your pretty face, eyes nothing but kind. Fuck, he loves you, and he just wanted to show you that. To make Christmas as magical as it's supposed to be.

“I really wanted it to go well, you know?”

You realize then that he’s not only talking about today. That he’s been putting this pressure on himself all month to make plans and something has happened every time. You don’t blame him for that, if anything, it makes your heart ache with adoration.

“Steve, it doesn’t matter to me. Things happen, it’s okay,” you kiss his bicep lightly. “I’d rather things go a bit wrong with you than to have them go right with someone else. You are the best part.”

“I-” love you, he almost says. But he doesn’t want the first time to be like this, in a room that still stinks. “You’re the best part for me too, honey.”

You decide that next time, it’s your turn to do something for him.

-

+1

Steve comes home from work on Christmas Eve, eyes tired and feet hurting despite having worn relatively comfortable shoes today.

He’d tried to get the day off, tried to be able to spend it with you in bed for hours and hours and not getting up until the afternoon. Keith had other plans for him.

He even tried to dramatize his wrist injury. Still, he was forced to go in.

Walking up the driveway, Steve sees the glow of lights inside filtering through the curtains. He’s fairly certain he hadn’t left any on, but he also knows he’s often wrong about these things, so he shrugs it off and goes inside.

There’s noise coming from the living room. Crackling of the fireplace that he barely ever uses, music playing quietly, and then he hears you humming along.

“Honey?”

“Yup, it’s me!”

You know where the spare key is, Steve’s the one who told you the information and encouraged you to use it, but you’ve often been too nervous to do so. Not today, it seems.

While Steve was at work, you’d set up your plan for him.

He follows the sound of your voice without much of a thought, a moth drawn to a flame. When he turns into the living room, he stills.

There are strings of warm white Christmas lights hung about, the fireplace is actually housing a fire, and in front of it is a fort made up of red and green and white blankets and pillows. Some plaid, some with snowflakes, all Christmas themed.

“Did you do all of this?” he asks, walking slowly to where you stand by the fort.

“Figured it was my turn to organize a date, don’t you think?”

“Baby. This is all really sweet, but wha-”

You cut him off, “Uh-uh. Let me explain.” You reach for Steve’s hands, and he meets you in the middle willingly. Suddenly nervous, you shift your weight on your feet. “I thought we could do presents a little early.”

His brows scrunch, “But Christmas is tomorrow.”

“Please?” you ask, squeezing his hands once.

And, really, Steve would never say no to you. Especially not when you’re saying ‘please’ all sweet and delicate like that.

“Okay,” he says. “Yours is in my room. I’ll go grab it. And change; I smell like Family Video.”

“‘Kay, Stevie.”

You kiss his cheek before he goes for good measure.

Steve is confused the entire time, wondering what it could be that you’re up to, but he does as he said he would. You’d been wearing a set of pyjamas (one he loves on you; a soft baby blue pair of shorts with a matching sweater), so he goes for one of his pairs of plaid pants and a plain t shirt before grabbing your messily wrapped gift bag from where he’d hidden it under his bed.

Back in the living room, he finds you now settled on the ground of the fort, which you’d lined with fuzzy blankets and the biggest of the pillows. His gift is sat beside you, a gift box wrapped in a lovely bow. Your skills of wrapping bouquets are transferable, he’s learned.

He joins you, sitting across from you, but close enough that your legs tangle and knees bump.

“You go first,” you tell him.

“Okay,” he scratches the back of his neck, handing you the gift bag. “Let me explain it before you say anything.”

That grabs your attention, but your plans aren’t about his present to you, really, and you know you’ll love it no matter what because Steve knows you better than anyone.

You lift out tissue paper first, uncovering multiple different things inside the bag, also wrapped. It pieces together as you go. A toothbrush, toothpaste, a hairbrush, your entire skincare routine, a couple of pyjama and underwear sets.

“It’s so you don’t have to bring an overnight bag every time you stay over now. I, um, cleared out a couple of drawers in my dresser and the bathroom.”

“Steve,” you look at him, heart squeezing. It’s so thoughtful, so him, and you surge forward you wrap your arms around his neck and breathe into his skin, “I love it. Thank you. It’s perfect.”

Perfect.

“You really think so?”

“Of course I do,” you sit back into your spot. “You know I hate carrying things.”

“I never let you carry anything, honey.”

“Exactly,” you nod. Now, you hold out his gift for him to take, “Your turn.”

You watch Steve’s hands as he tugs the bow undone, then lifts the lid of the box.

Nestled inside are four delicate ornaments. A Christmas tree, a snowman, an ice skate, and a plate of cookies. One for every date he’d planned for you.

Steve frowns at them, not because he doesn’t like them, but because he doesn’t quite understand where you’re going with this.

“I thought it was time we started collecting our own ornaments. For our place, one day,” you tell him.

“They’re lovely, but honey you- you really wanna remember these things?“ he shakes his head, more at himself than you. “I messed ‘em all up.”

“There’s one more thing in there,” you say quietly.

The thing you're nervous about. A thing you’ve never said out loud before.

Steve finds it beneath one of the ornaments, a small piece of paper folded up. When he opens that, his heart stutters in his chest. Written in your handwriting are three words: I love you.

He blinks away from the paper to look at you, though his thumb continues to trace the words absentmindedly. “Honey-”

“I love you, Steve. Okay?” You shift closer, kneeling at his side, your hands coming up to frame his jaw, your fingers kind against his skin. “I don’t care that things didn’t go how you planned. I mean, I would rather you didn’t require an ER visit, but the point is that I don’t need things to be perfect. And I know you’ve been hard on yourself trying to make them so.”

He lets go of the paper and reaches up to grasp your wrists, his thumb finding your racing pulse. His uninjured hand holds on tighter than the other.

“Thank you for trying for me,” you continue, “for caring. But no matter what happens, things are perfect for me. Because I get to do them with you. Got that, Harrington? You’re perfect, and I love you, and-”

He shuts you up with a kiss. It’s a simple but firm press of his lips against yours, but it says enough.

“I fucking love you too, honey,” he says, his forehead against yours, lips only a breath apart. “You saying all of that it means — you mean a lot to me.”

“Yeah, well, I meant it.”

“I know you did,” he nods. Steve pulls back the tiniest bit to be able to see your face fully, his sweet brown eyes locked on yours. “I wanted our first Christmas to be perfect, and I didn’t wanna let you down, but you’re right. They were perfect, because you’re here. And I love you for bein’ here.”

“As long as you’ll have me,” you say. You push his hair off his forehead before letting go of his face and sitting back, “Why don’t you give those ornaments a try?”

“On those trees?” he asks, eyebrows lifted, voice joking.

“Steve.”

”Okay, okay.”

He picks up the skate first. Surprising, considering that one had ended in a physical injury for him, but you say nothing and watch him walk over to your little trees by the window. You join him, sitting on the arm of the couch nearby while he scans over the tree.

“Pick a spot, handsome,” you encourage. “There’s really no wrong answer here.”

He goes to hang the first ornament, hand wavering before setting on a branch.

“Well, maybe not-” Steve tackles you onto the couch before you can finish. You dissolve into giggles as he pokes at your ribs, his head on your chest.

Steve’s done keeping score.

Perfect Christmas. That’s it.

⁺̇◍̇̇̇⁺̇̇̇⊛̇̇̇̇⁺̇̇̇◍̇̇̇⁺̇

thank you so much for reading!! if you enjoyed please please consider leaving a comment and/or a reblog and letting me know what you thought! it would mean a bunch of<3

[novelistwriter]

The Ancient One

DP x DC Prompt

The Ancients, beings of concepts that are believed in. Also, pieces to become a being known as "The Ancient One," a being of untold power, able to do anything to their hearts content. The Ghost King is the one to become "The Ancient One." Pariah couldn't be that being. He was too corrupt and tyrannical. But Danny? He is the perfect candidate.

Danny was alone. He had no family or friends to be with him, but the Ancients began to spend time with him. They treat him as a child, unlike the ones he wanted to treat him as such, but he's getting a family again.

Then, one by one, they began to disappear, and Danny got their powers. First, it was Frostbite, the Ancient of Medicine, who had played with him in the snow all day before he disappeared, and then Danny got the knowledge of many medical practices the next day. Next was Vortex. The Ancient of Weather had watched the stars with Danny the day before he disappeared, and the next day, Danny could control the weather, but it wasn't tied to his emotions like last time. Undergrowth was next. The Ancient of Plants had shown Danny his personal garden, the first and last time it would happen, as the next day, Undergrowth's personal garden appeared outside Danny's keep, and he could hear the voices of the plants.

Danny began to worry. His family was slowly getting smaller and smaller, so he went to the rest of his family to ask them where the rest of the Ancients were. He was devastated to learn that they would just become memories, that Danny would be the only one left again. He tried to protest to keep the rest of his family again. But Nocturne, Pandora, and Clockwork still vanished, with a last sticky note from the Ancient of Time for Danny to read again and again.

"Danny, I am sorry, little ghost, but this must be done. There is nothing more I would do to be with you longer, but we have to cease to be. The Ancient One must be made, and you are the perfect one to be that being. We Ancients have loved you as our own little one, and it hurts us to part with you. May you thrive for as long as you exist.

Love, Clockwork"

Danny holds (his) Clockwork's staff in one hand and (his) Pandora's shield in the other. His once happy demeanor has now become one of sadness. He has lost his family, twice, and is constantly being summoned by cults, fanatics, and others to either grant them power or conquer a world. He doesn't want to do those things. He just doesn't want to be alone again.

Maybe the man clad in all black in his recent summoning will be able to give him a family again.

[corkinavoid]

Hey, @confused-they, this is for you and for everyone else who wanted more of this AU. Merry Christmas.

DPxDC Ring of Rage? More Like Ring of Engage [pt. 4]

[<- part 3]

[Written to 'Tantrum' by Ashnikko]

TW: mentioned mild gore (some inside parts become outside ones, nothing graphic)

Tim can't breathe.

Joker's mad laughter is ringing through the darkness of the warehouse, echoing in his head, the screeching sound straight out of nightmares. Hood should be nearby - as in, somewhere in this darkness along with him - but Tim can't think about that, his own maniacal giggles bubbling in the back of his throat, a grin tugging at his lips.

He has to get up. He has to stand, he has to fight, and it really shouldn't be this hard.

But he can't breathe.

Tim clutches his fingers on the fabric of his suit on the chest, distantly wondering if this is how Danny feels when he is more human than ghost. Probably not, he mentioned that breathing is only optional.

He really wants his boyfriend right now. His fiance. Whatever, he wants Danny, he wants his cold hands on his cheeks and the faint, humming purr of his core that Tim finds nice to fall asleep to, and-

Maybe later. He can't exactly summon him now, not in the middle of a fight, especially not in the middle of a fight with Joker of all people.

There's an angry growl somewhere to Tim's left, staticky through the voice-modulator. Then several sounds of gunshots and a gleeful, taunting yell of the madman.

Hold on.

Tim snaps his eyes open - not that anything changes, everything is still pitch-black around him - and blinks.

Why not?..

It's not like Danny is a civilian. Tim tends to pay little attention to the fact since the King of Infinite Realms doesn't hang out with the whole superhero convention on principle. But Tim is pretty sure he won't mind it this once.

Besides, Tim is so done with Joker that it's not even funny.

A few breathy chuckles escape his throat as he lets his body fully slump back on the floor and brings his left hand to his face, placing a quick kiss on the Ring through his glove. He doesn't need to do that, not really, but it's kind of a ritual at this point, and the gesture somehow makes him feel better.

"Danny," he whispers.

For a long moment, nothing happens.

Then, there's a soft, popping sound, and his beautiful boyfriend is floating right over him, faintly glowing and a little sleepy. Tim is momentarily distracted by his bare feet and pj pants with tiny rockets on them.

Danny yawns and tugs the hem of his t-shirt down as it starts to float. "Whas'sup," he mutters, rubbing his eyes and clearly not fully awake, and Tim's heart melts instantly. He loves Danny. He just... He loves him, okay? He loves that Danny didn't question his summons for a moment, he loves that he came even though he was obviously sleeping, and he loves that Danny is wearing a tee he stole from Tim.

Unfortunately, before he is able to get his shit back together, another sound of gunshot ripples through the air, and Danny startles, blinking himself awake and looking in the direction of it. Then, his eyebrows shoot up, and his mouth makes a soft 'O' shape before he turns back to Tim and tilts his head in question.

"You want me to deal with him? The clown, I mean, not your brother," he asks, and it's so casual and off-handed that Tim actually huffs a laugh.

"Sorry, I was just- I'm really tired of his ass," Tim should probably sit up, this is not a talk they should have while he is lying on the ground. On the other hand, Jason is somewhere out there, and he has guns and doesn't have a clear visual around him, so maybe Tim shouldn't sit up.

Danny hums, "Is that a yes?"

Tim just nods. He is pretty sure Danny can see him despite the darkness. "I promise it's a one-time thing, I don't plan on calling you every time one of local lunatics acts up. I just... I fucking can't with him," he admits with a defeated sigh. But, before he can spiral any further into the abyss of unworthiness, Danny's cold hands are cupping his cheeks, and his icy eyes are looking right into Tim's sky blue.

"Love, I don't mind getting rid of each and every one of your Rogues. Granted, it would probably fuck up the timeline, and Clocky would be mad, but I'd do it if you want me to, no questions asked." His voice is quiet, and Tim has never been more grateful for his domino mask, because he can feel his cheeks heating up and he doesn't want Danny to see the exact effect his words are causing.

"I- Okay," he quietly agrees, and then blinks, backtracking, "Wait, no, don't fuck up the timeline. Just deal with the laughing bitch this once, and that's it. We can handle the rest."

Danny is smiling at him in that adoring way Tim recognizes as 'I really want to kiss you, but it's not the time or place'. Then, he nods and lets go of Tim's cheeks, straightening up in the air, and his clothes shift all at once, like a magic trick.

Gone are the stretched out t-shirt and the pants with rocket ships. In their place, Danny's body is head to toe covered in stars and galaxies that hold the vague shape of armor, and there's a slightly shimmering, blueish-green translucent cape over one of his shoulders.

The Crown over his head, the sentient artifact much like the Ring on Tim's finger, appears from nowhere, and, after a brief pause - Tim swears it was debating on whether or not the situation is worth the effort - promptly sets itself on fire. Blue flames cast long shadows on Danny's, no, King's face, making him look older and his cheekbones sharper.

Before, the boy was only faintly glowing, and, evidently, the others present in the warehouse were too distracted to notice him.

But now, with the flaming Crown casting dancing shadows on the walls of the warehouse, it's really hard not to see the otherworldly being making an appearance.

"Holy fuck," Tim hears Hood's quiet, astonished voice, and almost cracks a grin.

Yeah, he wants to say, that's my boyfriend. Although he suspects he and Jason are having vastly different reactions to Danny's presence. Because Tim kind of wants to take all his words about dealing with Joker back and take Danny home, straight to bed.

...He is going to have to strangle Jason in his sleep if his reaction is similar. No, that's a wrong thought, this is so not the time for it.

"Who are you, flying glowstick?" Joker sounds rightfully pissed off by the interruption, "Does Batsy employ alien kids now?"

Danny chuckles, the starry freckles on his cheeks glowing brighter, "Okay, just because you compared me to an alien, I'm not going to completely erase you from this plane of existence."

Tim snaps his head up.

"Wait, no killing," he reminds, not because he actually cares but because B would throw a fit. Danny brushes him off with a wave of his hand.

"No worries, he'll stay alive," he smiles at Tim, and to everyone else, it probably looks like stuff of nightmares, sharp, pointy teeth and lips stretched out far beyond human capabilities. But Tim sees it for what it is: a face of mischief.

"Do I get a vote in this?" Jason's deadpan voice comes from somewhere on the other side of the warehouse at the same moment as Joker screeches in rage, "Who the fuck do you think-"

"Nope," Danny pops the 'p', and Tim is not sure if he is answering to Hood or refusing to listen to the clown's monolog by it. Maybe it's both. It's probably both.

The next moment, Danny is gone, disappeared from the place he was floating at, and Tim hears a wet, very unpleasant sound followed by Joker's scream of pain.

"You see this?" He hears Danny's nonchalant, unfazed voice above the clown's pained cries, "This is your rib, bitch- Hey, quit whining and listen to me, it's important."

There's a slap, a rustle, and a sound of ripping fabric, and Joker's voice becomes muffled, like someone put a gag in his mouth.

"You're like Adam now, you know, lacking one rib," Danny continues, "Only I'm not making you a girl out of this one, I'm pretty sure you don't deserve to reproduce. Anyway, going further down that metaphor, I'm the God almighty in this situation, so if you want to keep the rest of your ribs - and the rest of other things that are supposed to stay inside of you - to yourself, you gotta do a thing for me, okay?"

There's some muffled groans that Joker makes in response, then an enraged growl, a sound of a struggle, another slap, and then that same wet, disgusting squelch.

"Two ribs, wow, okay, you're really being difficult about this!" Danny sounds so innocently dumbstruck about it that Tim suppresses a laugh. "Are you listening now?" There's a quiet, choking wheeze that answers him, and Danny sounds quite pleased when he says, "Great."

Tim debates if he should look. He doesn't exactly want to since the sounds provide enough context, but it might be somewhat cathartic for him.

And then the air around him inexplicably shifts, becoming cold and oppressive, weighting Tim down like a heavy blanket and pushing him into the floor. The dancing shadows and the blue light of flames on the walls twist and churn, like taking aim, and Tim doesn't know what Danny looks like right now but he knows he is as far from human as possible, his voice coming with a staticky, echoing whisper, a threatening hiss slithering inside Tim's ears.

"Play your little games all you want, Fallen Jester, but know that you can not win. The punchline to your joke is long overdue, and your soul has belonged to me for quite some time now," his words are cold and uncaring, and in all the time Tim has known his boyfriend, he has never heard him speak like this: with a sense of lazy power, like he is only humoring the people around him.

Like they mean nothing to him.

"I will not kill you, or at least not here and now. My Guiding Star doesn't want to see my hands dirty with your filthy remains. Besides, death is only a moment, and you don't deserve only a moment of suffering," he huffs a short, humorless chuckle, "But, luckily, I am the Eyes of the Universe, the Titan's Bane, the King of the Dead, and everyone will meet me once their eyes fall shut for the last time," there's a smile in his voice now, full of cold and merciless anticipation. Tim feels a shiver run down his spine.

"So just you wait, Jester, and I will meet you on the other side. Then we'll see how whatever is left of your soul is going to spend an eternity."

Tim's ears are ringing with the pure, somehow gleeful hatred that laces those last words. He didn't know he could literally taste the disgust and the promise of pain, and yet, here he is, with a hint of something sour on his tongue.

And then, the heavy, weighted air that has been charged with power is lifted, the shadows and bright blue lights are all gone, and Danny, wearing his pj's and smiling, is standing over him. His feet are planted on the ground for once, and the Crown is gone without a trace, but his t-shirt is still trying to float up. The boy tugs it down again, offering a hand to Tim.

"Wanna go out for a burger since I'm already here in Gotham?"

Tim had never breathed easier in his life. He laughs a little and reaches up, taking his beautifully unhinged boyfriend's hand and standing up.

"I thought you'd never ask."

[yeagersss]

Sukuna x f!Reader

In which Sukuna brings home child Uraume — 2

<— previous

It was your scream piercing through the forest that had Sukuna dropping everything and speeding up his steps.

He was coming back from a hunt while you and Uraume were walking through the woods, foraging for ingredients.

It's been a few weeks since Uraume joined you both and since then, you had showered them with nothing but love and affection. Like the child you always wanted.

Sukuna, on the other hand, was teaching the kid how to properly control their technique. It wasn't something he would ever do for anyone but he has grown to... have a soft spot for Uraume.

But when he dashed through the woods and arrived at the scene, Sukuna would never admit the way his heart sank at what he saw.

Ice.

Ice everywhere.

With you slumped against a tree, shaking uncontrollably while Uraume was next to you in tears, screaming and crying as they apologised profusely. Half of your body was covered in ice.

"No! No! My lady, please! I—I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do this! It was an accident—!" The child wailed. Memories of the frozen corpses of their parents rushing through their head.

It was just like that time.

"What have you done?" Sukuna's angered voice had Uraume backing away in fear as he got closer.

Your husband was by you in an instant, taking you in his arms. His eyes raked over your body to assess the damage. He quickly used his RCT to heal you. His heart was in his throat and he didn't stop until color returned to your face and your breathing was even.

You were going to be okay.

You were going to be okay but Sukuna was not going to let this go so easily. You... His everything... was harmed. Had almost brushed against the brink of death.

But when he looked up at Uraume with a rage of a furious storm, he paused.

The child was bowing deeply against the forest ground, body uncontrollably shaking from sobs and their little fists digging into the dirt as they repeated the same thing over again.

"I'm sorry! Please forgive me! I didn't mean—I-I didn't mean to hurt her—!"

And those words stirred something inside Sukuna. A memory. A memory he had buried deep into his mind and vowed to never look back upon ever again.

Of a small, deformed child who had just discovered his dangerous technique.

"How could you do this?!"

"Please, I'm sorry!"

"Do you think sorry will fix this?! Will fix the damage you caused?!"

"I didn't mean to! Mother, I swear—"

"Stay away from me, you wretched thing!"

"Monster!"

"Four eyed demon!"

"He'll bring a curse upon our village!"

"Kill that deformed thing! Kill it—"

"Enough. Stand up and let's go."

"B-But my lady is—"

"She's fine."

The walk back to home was quiet. Uraume had expected their punishment the moment they stepped into the house. But after Sukuna had gently laid you on the futon, the punishment never came.

Instead, the King of Curses placed his large hand on top of the child's head and scowled disapprovingly.

"Brat, did you not get what I taught you? Focus on a single damn point and breathe. That way you'll be able to control your technique. Now—"

Sukuna lead Uraume outside again and stopped a few feet away from a deer and a fawn.

"Kill the fawn and only the fawn." The man ordered.

Uraume was in disbelief. They had fully expected a punishment for what they did but when they looked at Sukuna, there was no malice in his eyes. Instead, impatience clouded those bloodied rubies as he tapped his large foot on the ground, waiting for the moment the child would do something.

With an impossibly warmed heart Uraume turned to the fawn with a smile and followed the malevolent king's instruction.

--

You awoke a few hours later, eyes blinking up at the ceiling as memories of what happened slowly came back. Your heart sank and you tried to get up.

You had to find Uraume. The poor child!

But then you felt small cold arms secured tightly around you. Uraume was curled next you as they slept.

You calmed down and smiled tenderly, running your fingers across their snowy locks.

"They refuse to leave your side."

You looked over to see your husband leaning against the door frame. Your smile widened and you reached out to him.

Sukuna didn't hesitate, pushing himself off and walking over to you. He sat down next to you on the floor and took your delicate hand in his large one.

"I'm surprised they're even at my side."

Sukuna grunted. "They can control their technique now. So expect the brat to be glued to you more often."

You laughed softly. "Oh? And does that have something to do with you, my lovely husband?"

Of course it did because he simply refused to look at you and gave you a mere shrug. He was embarrassed. You could tell.

"My lady...?"

You turned your focus to a sleepy Uraume, gazing at you with an apologetic look.

"My lady, I'm sorry..."

You shushed them, stroking their hair affectionately. "Hush now, little one. It wasn't your fault. Sleep, okay? I'm here..."

Sukuna looked on at you and Uraume quietly. You, his beautiful wife, whispering soothing words to the child who, moments ago, was nothing but terrified of who they were.

And then he thought back to the little deformed boy with four eyes and arms running away with a tear streaked face from a mother who begged the villagers to kill him.

He knew that boy was at peace now.

<— previous

[kazusys]

— kissing under the mistletoe.

kissing genshin men under the mistletoe! / fluff / no cw / other: you’re not dating in all scenarios! (❕) a/n: i did NOT proofread. but this took me a bit… hope you guys enjoy nonetheless! happy holidays! :)

characters included: albedo, childe, cyno, diluc, kaeya, kazuha, lyney, scaramouche, tighnari, wriothesley, xiao, and zhongli.

wc: ~4.4k words

“relax, it’ll be fine!” he said. “just lead her to the mistletoe when you two are chatting at the party; after all, you both are probably going to stick together the entire time anyways.”

that was kaeya’s advice. of course albedo took it, considering the probabilities of it working due to his insane roster of people fawning over him for just existing. of course he’d be more educated in this area.

but how would he be able to enact said advice if the guy who gave the advice in the first place was busy taking up all your time at the stupid party?

albedo was ready to just head home at this point. there was no point in waiting for you if he was most likely going to chicken out in the end anyways.

a boisterous laugh from kaeya brought albedo out of his little slump as he looked over, watching as the guy pushed you lightly his direction. you seemed… almost bashful. it was cute.

you shuffled through the people dancing and walking around before stopping in front of him.

“hey, ‘bedo.” you smile.

“(y/n), it’s good to see you here.” albedo returned, realizing that besides the initial hello you two shared before you were whisked away elsewhere, this was the first time he’d been able to talk to you tonight.

“good to see you too, i was thinking— there’s this place i wanna show you outside of the party, would you want an escape for a bit?”

he followed you immediately.

the spot was serene. the backdrop of all the constellations and the hanging moon in the sky were in full view, a couple trees here and there adorning the already pleasing landscape. albedo wished he had brought something to paint with, but a mental remembrance would have to do for now.

“it’s… stunning.” he murmured out as you continued walking. you went over to a tree whose leaves leaned forward just a bit, providing some shade. you sat down under it, patting the ground next to you.

this was his sort of paradise. the cool breezes, the quiet atmosphere, the world seemingly frozen as you two sat so close that one movement would have your arms brushing together.

he made that one movement.

you gave him a glance before seemingly staring at the sky. “look up in the branches of the tree.”

he did so without a word, his eyes zeroing in at the singular, small irregularity amongst the greenery of the tree.

mistletoe.

a light blush spread across his face, his eyes widening as they faced yours, which were already staring at him. he forced his expression to go back to being as neutral as he could manage, before cupping your face with one hand and bringing you in for a kiss.

needless to say, kaeya was a good matchmaker.

the holidays have always been a heartwarming time with ajax’s family, not to mention that ever since you joined him, he waits twice as excitedly to see them again.

he loves the domestication of you with his younger siblings, his parents, him; in a warm house with snowflakes floating down amongst the scenic landscape outside and everyone inside away from the troubles of the world. all his loved ones, together, in one place, safe.

taking your hands and spinning you around, he lets go of one to hold your hand as you both sprint to the house ahead. you love how his eyes shine as he knocks on the door, his younger siblings tackling him and squeezing you tightly to the ground with his parents reprimanding them and herding them back inside.

you’re grateful for the warmth of the house as you shed off your winter gear and help ajax get off his as his siblings spout off with questions for him that they couldn’t fit in the letters sent back and forth between them.

at one point, they bring their big brother in to whisper something in hushed voices. ajax chuckles as they scurry off, shaking his head and smiling brightly at you. he almost seems like a kid again, the way his smile reaches far and he looks like he can’t get any happier.

you see teucer poke his head out from behind a wall and beckon ajax over. he goes over, but not without a glance to you showing off the mischievous glint in his eyes.

you wait in anticipation with a smile as you hear everyone with him giggle and push him out with a newly acquired headpiece, a headband with a string attached to a mistletoe.

a few seconds go by with your laughter before ajax teasingly says, “so, are you going to come over here, or?”

you be sure to give a thumbs up to his siblings before tackling him in a hug and bringing him in close for a smooch or two.

“stay still,” you softly chided, “i’m not going to be able to get all this sand out if you don’t.”

“sorry.” cyno replied, glancing back at the ceiling. of all methods…

this was purely tighnari and collei’s doing. they’re the only ones who know cyno’s preferred place to sit as you “help get the bits of persistent sand in his hair” even though he knows that he can do it himself.

when had they placed that there?

cyno quietly sighed as you finished with the ends of his strands, carefully taking off your gloves and putting down your brush on the towels beneath you both.

“alright, then— good night, cyno.” you say as you get up, although hesitant. you wanted to spend more time with him, but with his narrow schedule, you don’t mind putting his rest before your own desires. you wait for him to stand and get off the towels, which he does, before cradling them in a way so that the sand on top of them won’t spill. you give a small “bye, sleep well,” before turning to leave.

you feel his coarse fingers delicately wrap around your upper arm, a gasp leaving your lips as he pulled you back with a force that you’d be able to escape from if you wanted to.

“cy—”

“look up.”

you do as told.

as soon as your eyes meet the red and green symbol, you feel the same fingers that pulled you to him hold your chin, bringing your focus to him.

he speaks through the meeting of your eyes, and you allow him with a response of your lips against his.

he separates after a bit before diving back in. after such a small taste of paradise, he can’t help but want more.

of course someone put a mistletoe above the doorway of the tavern. and of course he didn’t remove it incase you came by today. and of course kaeya teased him for it.

no matter how annoying, he’d go through it if it meant you’d come to him at the end of the day.

and that you did.

you rushed past the door in excitement to tell him about your hectic, but interesting, day as diluc ignored the knowing stare he got from the calvary captain.

with a small smile, you two stayed talking until midnight, when diluc finished cleaning and closed up the tavern.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, ‘luc.” you smile, as he does the same despite his diminishing hope at being able to kiss you under the protruding plant that you two were still standing under.

just as he came to the conclusion that he’d have to be the one who’d initiate the kiss, you leaned in close to place a kiss on the corner of his lips. “you’re obvious when you want something, you know that?”

he chuckled a bit after he recovered. “you just know me well.”

he put a hand on the side of your face and pulled you in again.

“your office is so… bland. for someone like you, i expected at least some interesting decorations especially during this season.”

“‘for someone like you’?” kaeya rose an eyebrow, eyeing the box you set on his desk. “and furthermore, i haven’t had the time to decorate for the season! i’m always busy with work or spending time with you.”

“or at the tavern,” you pointed out, taking items and sorting them out across the floor from the box. “hmm, red or blue?”

“both. and what if i was just waiting for you to come in and help me since we both did a pretty good job last year?” it wasn’t a total lie. he was waiting for you, but only to be able to spend more time together.

“straight line or dips? then i think that’d be a lie,” you countered, “after all, your office was as brightly adorned as the outside all those years back before i came in to help.”

“on the walls? straight would be easier. dips would look good on the desk, though.” kaeya said as he adjusted some of the ribbons he fluffed out. “i like your company.”

a smile creased your features as you stayed quiet at the thought for a few seconds before replying with a “i like yours, too.”

eventually, you both stepped back to revel the sight. you sipped the last bits of the now lukewarm drink kaeya brought for you earlier. you remembered the way your fingers brushed against each other and the small spark that you hoped he shared.

you felt him brush a piece of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

when did he get so close?

he tilted your head up to the ceiling, your heart beating fast and resounding in your ears.

and then he kissed you, soft and delicately.

amidst the glowing lights and cheery decor, nothing could’ve matched the high spirits you and kaeya were feeling right then and there.

kazuha's observant. he always has been. so he’ll always know when you’re not giving yourself as much love as you should be. case in point…

“i know that i am not the most perfected in this art…” says the guy who can make cussing sound flowery and sweet sounding, “but i made this small book for you. it’s full of haikus and other forms of poetry containing everything i find attractive about you.”

you take the quite hefty book full of papers and some apparent trinkets sticking out of some of the pages (like flowers that remind him of you and such) with care. its title is (y/n), my muse and eternity.

you can’t seem to find your words. “kazuha… this is…”

he smiles at how happy you look.

he knows that insecurities are far from that of the like of small insects and the such, in which you can just kill them with a little flick or small press of a youth’s finger.

insecurities are plagues, brought from hell itself to block out what objectivity sees.

he knows that his words won’t be enough to quell your troubles permanently, but he’ll damn well try just to see that smile and see you free from what’s trapping you in that moment.

he flips the pages to the end where papers face you devoid of ink. he gestures above, where a small plant glistens amidst the dull space where you two are seated. you swear that wasn’t there when you walked in.

you feel him slowly trace your arm, as if asking permission to pull you closer. you lace your fingers together, relishing in the warmth of his presence as you let yourself come closer.

his lips meet yours, soft as his appearance but as passionate as his dreams and ambitions.

and when you two come apart, he takes ink and a quill from a nearby table and fills in the blank page with new words, swiftly getting the mistletoe from above to tuck into the pages like a bookmark.

lips—

with the snow falling

in the slumber of the world

Heaven-sent are they

with warmth to my days

with feelings of home in you

paradise is found

“a private show right now?” you softly laugh.

“exactly! and you’re in for a treat today— i picked up a book per someone’s recommendation about the significance of different flowers and their meanings! and i will incorporate that in the trick i’m about to show you!” he spouted excitedly, bowing in front of you as he usually does before a performance.

“well then, let’s see what you’ve got for me today that’s different than all the other shows you’ve already shown me!” you say, sitting in the chair he prepared ahead of time.

he smiles. taking his hat off again, he swirls his fingers over the opening.

“oh, it seems there’s something stuck; give me a second…” and with a yank, out he pulls a bouquet of rainbow roses. he offers them to you with a warm grin.

you take it with wide eyes, holding it close to you as you relish in how your fingers brushed against his and the remembrance of the meaning of these flowers.

taking advantage of the proximity, lyney brushes back a piece of your hair, reaching behind your ear and pulling out a piece of mistletoe with small buds blossoming on the branches.

you feel your face become unbearably hot.

he leans in to whisper. “this part isn’t a trick, by the way… these flowers represent my feelings rather well, i think. do you accept them?”

you can feel your heart pounding as you nod, his lips reaching yours as soon as you do. it’s passionate, just as the flowers represent.

once you both pull back, he says, “how do you rate your performance?”

“i’ll rate it ten out of ten if you kiss me again.”

he does. 10/10!!

what a stupid touchy feeling tradition. absolutely stupid. absolutely not worth his time setting up just because of your stupid romantic fantasies.

well, i guess that makes him stupid, then.

if all goes wrong, he has at least five back-up plans ready. so there’s nothing to lose, right?

except maybe possibly hopefully the norm of friendship you two have changing into something more.

but, he knows that if his hopes are set too high, they can come crashing down more hurtful than falling from a fifty-story skyscraper.

so he settles for stomping out his icky hopes and dreams for this encounter in favor of not going insane. at most, you were probably going to just peck him on the cheek as a ‘friendly gesture’. or slap him altogether.

it was still a good ten minutes or so before your designated meeting time, so he closed his eyes and waited beneath one of the shady areas of the forest hangout you both discussed on, listening for the sound of your footsteps. to his mild surprise, he heard them coming just a few minutes later.

you emerged from the trees, your eyes widening a bit before smiling to seemingly cover it up. “scara’! sorry, did i make you wait for long?”

he shook his head, eyeing the basket you were holding before meeting your gaze. “you’re fine. i just arrived.” which was a lie, he came extra early to prepare.

“that’s good to hear. i met with the traveler a few days ago, and he taught me a few new recipes. i was wondering if you’d like to try them out?” you say, taking a small picnic blanket out. scaramouche offered to take it as he spread it out under the tree he was leaning against.

“sounds good, your cooking’s always something i look forward to.” he replied, throwing that compliment in for good measure.

you laugh softly, opening the basket and setting out the dishes. he can’t help but notice a certain small plant in there as well for a brief second before it’s gone, covered by a few napkins shifting around as you arrange the food and utensils.

ah. well…

he stops you momentarily, gently moving your hands off the basket as he brings it closer to himself, knelt down as he rummages through it and pulls out the small piece of mistletoe inside.

you’re quick to talk. “oh, that’s… that’s just a lucky charm i carry around. i… a friendsaidthat it’s supposed to bring good luck! and fortune! and i brought it to ensure that you wouldn’t uh—get food poisoning or something, y’know? or so that i won’—!”

you’re startled by scaramouche pulling you to your feet, a smirk on his face as his hands trail up to your face. his thumbs trace the sides of it as he says, “if you look up, i’m sure you’ll find something very confidence-boosting.”

you do.

he slowly leans in, like he’s seen other couples do. and he swears you’re something else and that something zapped his lips and spread through the rest of his body, because the moment your lips met it felt as if a small electrocution was taking place in each part of his being.

it’s almost so overwhelming that he also swears that he can feel his own heartbeat in there. what did you do?

a small paradise of his own, and he plans on never losing it.

(also something ate a portion your food— it wasn’t you or scaramouche— but hey, at least that means that he can spend time with you cooking that same dish again!)

sleeping out in the forest can be difficult, but for people like tighnari, you just get used to it.

however, that’s not the case this time around with the only sound that his ears seem to be registering being the sounds of you outside your tent, sitting on a stump, writing in your plant/personal(? he thinks?) journal, and very much awake after he told you to rest up for tomorrow.

he sighs, getting up. he’s not letting you do this.

you immediately turn your head to the sound of him exiting his tent, knowing you’re in for an earful about taking proper care of yourself. you know he cares, but at least wait until you’re finished writing these last few words…

“i told you at least an hour ago to head to sleep. you’ll need the energy for tomorrow.” he walks closer, ending in front of you with a hand on his hip, which he drops as soon as you look up at him.

“i know, but…”

“you can fill in whatever you want to fill in tomorrow. come on.” he gently ushers you to your feet, taking your hand and confiscating your notebook.

“tighn—!”

“i’ll give it back tomorrow. i don’t trust you not to write in it in your tent.” he leaves no room for complaint, evading all your attempts in retrieving the book until you eventually give up with a more than devastated look.

you reluctantly lie down, tighnari watching you till you put your covers over yourself.

“good night, (y/n),” he gives a small smile, “tell me if anything nearby irritates your senses. i won’t mind being waken up for that.”

and with that, he leaves.

he spares a glance at the notebook in his hand, still open to the page you were writing on. he had no intentions of reading it, but when your name’s written down in someone’s time, you’re bound to be curious why.

𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘰𝘦

𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺

— 𝘴𝘺𝘮𝘣𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴, 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥…

you’ve certainly done your research. after swiftly skimming through that portion…

𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴

— 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘪 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴? 𝘢 𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵: 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘺. 𝘪 𝘥𝘰𝘶𝘣𝘵 𝘩𝘦’𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩, 𝘣𝘶𝘵

that’s where it ends. in the book, a small mistletoe plant is nestled in between the pages. tighnari can feel his face heat and his tail jerking around excitedly behind him, prompting him to take a deep breath to calm down. it’s no use, really.

you like him?

he can’t help the smile that flutters up, taking the plant out and dropping off your notebook in his tent.

he goes over to yours, knocking his foot against the rocks outside as a sort of doorbell. he knows you’re awake.

meanwhile, you’re panicking and on the verge of running out and taking your chances in the dangers of the forest in the dark. you hear his knocking.

“you read it.” you manage from behind the curtain like doors. “i’m sor—”

“may i come in?”

he hears you inhale deeply. hesitant footsteps make their way over, opening the entrance to him.

immediately, he takes your hand. lifting his other arm, the mistletoe he has a hold of dangles above you both.

“i would,” is all he says before his lips press against yours.

both of your worlds spin, and every other noise in the avidya forest blurs away.

when you separate, he’s the first to speak with rosy cheeks decorating his features.

“mistletoe is also categorized as a parasitic plant, meaning it depends on other plants to survive by drawing nutrients from them. be sure to add that to your journal.”

“tighnari.”

he kisses you again in apology.

“your knuckles are all bruised again…” you mutter, taking his hands into your own. you brush your thumbs over the especially calloused areas.

“it’s really no big deal…” he murmurs, thinking you to be sweet for caring so heavily about him.

you get your bandages out. “are there any other places that are injured that i should know about?”

he shakes his head no, but then answers verbally realizing that with your eyes focusing on his hands, you probably didn’t see.

a couple minutes later and you’re done, a lot sooner than wriothesley would’ve wanted.

“flex your fingers.” he does so. you take the hand you just bandaged to fix one loose end. “i think that’s it…”

he subconsciously holds your hand in his. as per tradition— a sort of inside joke between you two— you bring his fingers to your lips and kiss his bandaged knuckles with a smile.

when you do the same to the other hand, he chuckles. you look at his head tilted upwards, looking up at the ceiling. you trail up as well, your eyes widening for a moment.

“it looks like sigewinne must’ve slipped in and done some decorating for me. we don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

you recall her words from a few days ago to you. “well, if you don’t make a move soon, don’t be surprised when i intervene.”

you meet his eyes. he looks… bashful? embarrassed?

you gather up your confidence before it evaporates and move up to kiss him.

He stiffens before melting into the kiss, bringing you closer with the hand not holding yours on the small of your back and the other intertwining your fingers.

he chased your lips after you separated, and well; you both didn’t leave his office for a bit.

you definitely made sure to hug and give sigewinne a new sticker sheet afterwards.

you thought up the idea a while back, but never acted on it. xiao was… well, xiao. you simply didn’t think he’d like it, especially if he didn’t like you in that way. that’d just be awkward.

so you never did it, until one day after you consulted zhongli.

“it seems he does feel the same way, after all the talks we’ve shared of the topic being you, to whom he speaks very highly of.”

you smile at the thought now as you sit beside xiao, explaining the topic of mistletoe, which apparently he overheard from some people walking past that he wanted to learn about. what he heard you don’t know, so you prompt to start from the very beginning from its origins all the way to its tradition.

he stays quiet with a few questions throughout your speech, seemingly deep in thought.

you think that’s a good sign.

when you’re done, you look at him only to find him already staring at you.

“would you want to do that with me?”

your eyes widen at the sudden sentence before you throw out a response. “yes, i would.”

“i’ll be right back.” and before you can say anything, he vanishes. he comes back a few minutes later with something in his hand. a small mistletoe.

you stand up to his level, eyeing the blush beginning to spread across his face.

you smile serenely, taking his hand holding the plant and raising it above your heads. you then take the lead and lean in to kiss him.

in all of his years of being alive, xiao thinks he’s never felt so… actually alive. it’s always like that around you. you take him away from the automatic responses he gives and seemingly endless monotony that is slaying monsters and the sort. you give him some sort of essence he can’t describe that he’s been lacking all these years, decades, centuries, millenniums.

he loves you so dearly.

and when you separate, he finds himself seeking more, pulling you closer and kissing you again.

it’s his sort of reward for suffering for so long without this, he supposes.

“it’s rather late,” zhongli glanced over at the night sky, “shall we get going?”

you nod. “thanks for accompanying me today; though, i still feel guilty for taking up your time…”

he gives you a reassuring smile. “it is of no concern. i was not particularly busy, and any time spent with you is never wasted.”

you smile back. “you flatter me too much.”

“it is not as if you do not deserve it.” he responds. you can’t help but widen your smile. he continues speaking. “you’re staying over at the baiju guesthouse for now until your renovations are completed, correct?”

“i am! it’s been pleasant so far, and the decorations adorning the building for the season are definitely a sight to wake up to!”

a good amount of talking later, and finally at around midnight, you both arrive.

“i’m afraid i now must apologize for taking up your time, you ought to rest for tomorrow. shall we meet up soon?” his expression is soothing, but if you look a little deeper, a small glint in his eyes shows a bit of hopefulness and something else.

“of course, and…” you trail off, glancing up at the archway you two are standing under in front of the guesthouse. “happy holidays, zhongli.”

you quickly kiss him on the cheek before hurrying away, leaving a stunned zhongli in your wake, hand to the place where you kissed him, seemingly in awe.

he says your name delicately, like a sacred word meant to be worshipped. you stop your hand on the door, turning your head over to see him reach for your hands and spinning you around.

a small intake of air leaves you as he walks you both back under the mistletoe above that you spotted earlier. he then leans in close.

“may i?”

and you close the distance.

happy holidays indeed.

©️kazusys — 24/12/24; do not plagiarize/steal, repost, translate, and/or claim any of my works as your own.

[sxorpiomooon]

How do men view you? A pac reading

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Pile 1-

They see you as a damsel in distress also this pile is too smooth with their words and I wanted to say that it's almost as if they lure men in and that was the exact moment this whimsical siren tuning started playing somewhere and this is the vibe that I'm getting. Almost all of the time you are telling men something they know it's bullshit and you are manipulating them but they just let it be😭😭 I see them just sort of not caring. This pile might also be very good with their mouth. LMAOOOO pile one let me tell you, alot of your male friends are only your friends because you do not want anything more or have not indicated anything more yet. None of these guys want to be your friend and I see them waiting for their chance and the moment they get the opportunity they are going to grab it. For some of you, these men might be trying to manipulate you if you are going through a hard time by portraying as they are supporting you but they just have ulterior motives so be careful of those men who support you too much even when you are wrong they just want to go to bed with you the exact words I'm hearing

Pile 2-

ooooo you challenge them and piss them off. This is mainly through word exchange and debating. You challenge men alot and they find you mentally stimulating this pile might have or will have rivals to lovers/ enemies to lovers with someone. Men find you complex and appealing and find themselves drawn to you even when they despise you. You might at times find men starting debates with you over the most silly reasons but it'll just be their own way to talk to you. It's almost as if they are doing all that because they know they won't be able to get you to talk to them normally in other ways. They think you are very high standards too men might restraint themselves from directly confessing to you bc men are scared by women like this usually. They are very attracted to you tho pile two trust me perhaps some of you might have never been in a relationship before it's not because men don't like you it's because they know they can't handle all that

Pile 3-

Alot of men that seemed to or are supposed to have given up on you HAVE not. It's surprising to me to see how men are just waiting for their chance. Alot of men are not your boyfriend simply because you've not yet given them the chance to it's like everyone's waiting for their turn. Are you someone who believes in concepts like fate karma or soulmates alot? I think if yes men might even try to manipulate you into thinking that they are the "one" for you. Men think of you as someone who's cold and sexy I'm also hearing intimidating. Some of you do that latina makeup or that tiktok makeup and they find it very sexy I'm seeing boys teasing each other over your names. You might have alot of rumors about you or misconceptions but girl it's jus bc ur pretty and everyone's talking about you always. Idk if you know this or not but men fight for you alot too or might want to show themselves as heroes in order to get your attention. Men from the same friend group might like you.

Pile 4-

Extremely feminine, if you don't dress extreme feminine and by extreme I mean quite literally extreme you act like it alot. I'm seeing bows, coquette etc anyways men might see you as someone who's very very divine feminine therefore very attracted towards you. They might constantly want to surrender themselves to you oooo this pile is good. You know the game pile 4🙏. Men also see you as someone who is very innocent dainty and deer like. They might also get the illusion that you'll save them this pile has pisces cancer placements I'm also having visions from the love witch it's something similar to that and I keep seeing lana del rey again and again I'm also seeing a deer. Men want to surrender and sacrifice themselves to you completely and might be ready to do alot of things for you😭 you also attract alot of crybabys who might want you to nurture them.

[pomegranatesarchive]

not so secret santa

pairing: max verstappen x redbull!reader

part of redbull!reader

summary: secret santa has never been your favorite holiday tradition; in fact, you’ve always found it more stressful than fun. but this year, it’s somehow even worse—because out of all the people you could have drawn, you ended up with your teammate, max. [3.4k]

warnings: JOS VERSTAPPEN!!!! oscar piastri and his existential thoughts (and mental breakdown) fluff, reader having a breakdown over gifts. reader and daniel riccarido content. reader has 'she/her' pronouns. (yn) used once.

.

"Can't I skip it this year?" you grumbled, watching as the F1 social media admin walked up to you, a phone in one hand, and a Christmas hat in the other.

The woman frowned behind the camera, shaking the hat slightly, "You love Christmas." she pointed out.

You nodded, pocketing your phone in your back pocket, you were on your way to the garage before you were stopped by the last person you wanted to see.

You had no problem with the admin, on the contrary, you found her delightful, but she was making the round of secret santa, and that's why you were hoping to avoid her.

"Christmas and Secret Santa are not the same." you quipped, reaching your hand into the hat and swirling around the tiny slips of paper. You took a deep breath, grasping one before pulling it out, the camera following your every movement.

You leaned by, opening the slip away from prying eyes, "Shit." you cursed, quickly trying to put the paper back into the hat.

The admin laughed, leaning back, "No switching!"

You groaned, "C'mon please!"

She laughed, shaking your head, "Nope! Show the camera."

You grumbled, slowly turning the paper, Max Verstappen.

The woman laughed, delighted by the odds, "Okay. You remember the rules?"

"Don't tell anyone." you grumbled, pocketing the slip of paper, "I never know what to get!" you whined, as much as you loved Christmas the gift-giving part was something you despised, you always second-guessed yourself, and could never pick out what you deemed a 'good gift.’

"You have until two weeks from now." she beamed, before walking away, no doubt on her way to find her next victim.

.

Later that day you had a list of those who could help you on the hunt for the perfect gift. The first person on your list for help was, unfortunately, out of all people, Jos Verstappen.

Truly he was the last person you would ever want to talk to, but you thought that if anyone could be able to help you with picking out a gift, it would be Max's dad.

You would've gone to his mother, or even sister first. But they rarely visited the garage, much less when Jos was around, which you entirely understood.

"Get him something for racing," he spoke simply, you stood near him awkwardly, this was only your second one-on-one conversation in all the years you've been racing with his child, and moments like these reminded you why you avoided him, "Gloves."

You blinked, "You don't think I should get him something more personal? I mean I've known him for a while now."

"You've known him for a while and still don't know what to get him?" he sent you a look, and you resisted the urge to snap back, taking a deep breath.

"I'm bad a gifts."

"Then don't get him anything," the man shrugged like it was the most reasonable thing, "He hasn't been doing good enough to deserve a good Christmas." he scoffed.

"He's leading the championship." you laughed in amazement, truly not understanding how a father could say such things about his own child.

Jos' eyes snapped over to you, "Norris is catching up, he's not doing good enough."

"Not good enough?" you gaped, taking a step back, deciding to let it go and not start an argument in the middle of the garage, "Nevermind. Nevermind. Thank you for your…help.” you didn’t bother giving him a fake smile, turning on your heel quickly and walking out of the garage.

“Asshole,” you whispered to yourself, walking quickly with eyes on the ground.

“My dad?” you stopped abruptly, looking up to see Max in all his glory standing in front of you.

“Hm?” you blinked, staring up at him.

He pursed his lips, hands on his hips, “You were talking to my dad.”

You nodded slowly, debating whether to lie or not, “…I was.”

He hummed, left eye slightly twitching, “Okay. Why?”

Your mind went blank, thinking of any excuse you could use, “Um…”

Max eyes you, nodding along with you, “Um…”

"I just wanted to catch up."

In hindsight, you definitely should've come up with something more believable.

Max shot you a very telling look, letting you know that he didnt believe an ounce of what you were saying, "Catching up? With Jos?"

"Yes?" you squinted up at him, tone not as believable as you wanted it to be.

"You don't catch up with Jos. You don't like Jos."

You tried to look offended, "I can catch up with Jos."

Max let out a short laugh, eyes glancing behind you, no doubt to his father, "No. You don't like him." he repeated, "Most people don't like him."

You stared up at him with a blank look before letting out a deep breath, "You're right, I don't like him."

Max nodded once more, an amused look on his face, "So why were you talking to him?"

You balled your hands into a fist wanting nothing more but to tell him that you were on a search for the perfect gift, but you resisted, "I wanted to catch up with Jos but then he opened his mouth and reminded me why I stay away."

Max said nothing, simply staring down at you, a certain look in his eyes, you sighed, "I promise."

Finally, Max let up, giving you a smile, and patting your shoulder before walking towards his father.

With a grimace you quickly spun on your heel, catching Jos's eyes, you pressed a finger to your lips, hoping you would get the hint—it appeared like he didnt by the way he looked at you in a mixture of disgust and confusion.

You watched them anxiously for a moment, before scurrying away, choosing to not see the moment Max realized you had lied to him.

Back with the Verstappens, Max was eyeing his father oddly. He knew you had just lied to him, your anxious tone and the way you balled your hands into fists told him you were lying, he just didnt know about what.

"You two were catching up?" Max voiced his disbelief, the last thing he expected was for his father to continue you lie.

"Yes, Max." his father sighed, already annoyed by the talk you and him just had, and now he had his son asking him the same question over and over again.

"About what?" the exasperation in the racer's voice pulled a smile to Jos's face.

He turned to his son with his arms crossed, "Win this race, and I'll tell you."

Max blinked, truly that was the last thing he expected to come from his father...and it made him mad. Years of winning and winning, and the man couldn't tell him this one thing? When had he ever asked for anything from him?

Max scoffed, rolling his eyes before walking away, ignoring his father's calls behind him.

.

There was something so intimating about Oscar Piastri and his blank face. Maybe it was because of how calm cool and collected he was, while at the moment you were the exact opposite. Either way, you were cursing Secret Santa for putting you in this position.

It was the day after your pick when you ran into him in the hotel reception center, he was sitting on a couch, eyes and face blank.

You contemplated walking away multiple times, but you knew you needed all the imput you could get to get Max the perfect gift.

"Hey Oscar..." you sang awkwardly slowly sliding down to the spot next to him.

He blinked slowly, turning to you slowly, "Hey." he mumbled, before turning back and facing straight, no doubt creeping out some of the people walking by.

You argued with yourself mentally, trying to build up the courage to talk with the man next to you, "So uh.. who'd you get for Secret Santa?" you tried, cringing into yourself.

"I'm not supposed to tell you."

"I'm won’t tell anyone."

"You'll tell Max." you didnt bother trying to defend yourself, knowing he was right, you would've definitely blurted it out to Max.

"Yeah.." you mumbled slowly, prusing your lips.

"You got him right—Max?" he asked simply.

You snapped your head over to him before looking around the hotel reception room crazily, "Shh!" you whispered and shouted, "He could hear you."

Yesterday after Max's conversation with his father, you were sure he was going to come back and let you know that his father had spilled the beans, teasing you over not being able to keep 'secret' Santa a 'secret' for longer than 24 hours.

But he never did. Instead, he complained about Jos for almost a full hour, not once did he bring up the gift situation.

"Yes. Because I'm sure he can hear me from the track...from here."

You shrunk slightly in embarrassment, you were not aware he had left the hotel, "You never know." you scoffed, rolling your eyes, "So uh.. you're good at gift-giving, right?"

Oscar tilted his head in thought, "I mean, I don't think it's something I'm known for."

"But like, you're good at it right?" you tried leaning towards him.

"Yeah, I guess so."

Happily, you slightly bounced on your spot, "Great!" you paused, "So like, hypothetically, if you got Max for Secret Santa," you saw a small smile spread on Oscar's face, "Hypothetically, what would you get him?"

Oscar hummed, "Hypothetically..." he dragged the word out, he paused before seeming stumped, "I don't know.."

"Oscar!" you groaned, slumping in disappointment.

"I seriously don't know," he whispered to himself, seemingly distraught, "Wow...I don't know."

The room's tone shifted as Oscar kept mumbling to himself.

"It's okay Oscar," you smiled awkwardly, "I don't know, I don't know, I don't know..." he muttered to himself, avoiding eye contact.

"It's okay.." you patted his arm, noticing more and more people were glancing your way, yet he didnt stop mumbling to himself.

You laughed awkwardly, slowly getting up, "Yeah okay." you mumbled, looking around before walking away, leaving him with his mumbles.

You circled around the hotel lobby for what felt like hours (it was three minutes) continuously taking peeks at Oscar, who continued to look in horror at a revelation that he, did not know.

After a few more circles, you thankfully spotted the next person on your ‘help with gift’ list, Lando. He was exiting the elevator, a concerned look on his face as he started heading towards Oscar.

You took off in a quick jog, cutting him off mid-walk, he stumbled on his feet trying to not bump into you, “Hey!” you greeted gleefully, blocking his eyesight as they trailed back to Oscar.

"Hey." he blinked, shooting you a quick smile before his eyes inevitability trailed back to Oscar, who had a deep frown on his face.

"I need your help," you pursed your lips, Lando looked down at you in confusion before looking back to Oscar, contemplation clear on his face. You decided to clear the air, "Oscars fine. He just's...thinking, about what I'm going to ask you actually!"

It took a second before Lando nodded in acceptance, "Okay? What’s up?"

"I got Max for Secret Santa, and I want to get him something super good, but you know I'm bad at gifts right? Yeah, I got you for Secret Santa last year and it sucked," you rambled as Lando nodded with a frown, recalling when you got him a replica of his helmet, like his own helmet, it would've been thoughtful if it wasn't, his helmet, "And I asked Jos and he was no help, so then I asked Oscar but I think.. I think I broke him."

Lando looked down at you blankly, opening his mouth and closing it a couple times, before finally, he took a deep breath, "Okay.." he dragged out, "Why don't you try anything racing-related?"

"That's what Jos suggested."

Lando jumped back in disgusted, "So let's not get him anything racing-related."

You nodded in agreement, "I was going to get him a new cat but that seems like a big commitment."

Lando hummed in agreement, "Especially because he just got one, what's its name? Donatello?"

"Mhmm."

"What if you don't get him a cat, but get him something for his cats." He rose up a brow.

Your face lit up before it slowly dimmed, "But isn't that like getting his cats something and not him something."

Lando shrugged, a small frown appearing on his face, "That's all I got."

You groaned throwing your head back, "No! Lando no!"

Lando laughed, his eyes crinkling in amusement, "I'm sorry!"

You moved to his side, putting your head on his shoulder, "What'd you get Zhou?"

Lano beamed, "A pillow of his cat, Sweetcorn."

You gasped, an open-mouth smile on your face, Lando quickly cut in, "No you cannot use that idea!"

You faltered, looking up with a glare, "Have I told you how much I hate you?"

Lando looked down at you with a cheeky smile, "Many times, yes."

You grumble to yourself, slight smaking him on the shoulder before turning and walking away, onto the next and final person on your list.

.

You had lost Daniel Ricciardo's phone number. That was a big problem seeing as he was the last person on your 'quest to find Max the perfect gift' list.

You had gotten a phone two months prior, actually, Max got you a new phone, claiming that your old phone was 'deteriorating.'

During the process of switching phones, all of your contacts were deleted, a problem that was solved as you went around the track asking for all the phone numbers you could get, the problem was that Daniel was no longer at the track. You told yourself that you would get to it eventually, but you never did.

And now you were in this horrible situation, you had to somehow get Daniel's phone number from Max, without explaining why you needed it.

You could've gone to literally any of the other drivers, but they all seemed to be strangely avoiding you. (Little did you know Max had figured out the next part of your plan and told everyone to ‘hide’ from you so you had no choice but to go to him.)

He was sitting next to GP, pointing at something on the screen his mouth moving widely. You snuck up behind him, giving GP a look, hoping he would take the hint. Thankfully he did. He only took a couple seconds patting Max on his back and walking away.

Quickly you slid into his seat, shooting Max a smile.

His eyebrows shot up instantly, "You're done avoiding me?"

You laughed fakely, looking around the garage, "Me? Ignore you? What? Outrageous Max, just—outrageous."

The driver shot you a look, making you clear your throat awkwardly, "Do you have Daniel Riccarido's number?" Stupid question, of course, he had his number.

"I do." Max nodded simply, you winced you had hoped that he would just offer it on the spot, but of course is it really Max if he isn't difficult?

"Great!" you nodded enthusiastically, "..Can I have it?" you added quickly.

Max smiled to himself, turning his body toward you entirely, his head leaning on his palm, "Why do you want it?"

You faltered, swallowing thickly, "Why?" you stuttered, trying to think of a great excuse.

"Mhm. Why?"

You stared at him, "Because he's my friend. And—and I miss talking to him."

Max's smile got wider, "I got you a new phone two months ago, you haven't said anything about talking to Daniel?"

Shit. He was catching on. "I want to ask him out!" What?

You blinked, shocked at what had just come out of your mouth, Max on the other hand looked more amused than ever, "Oh?" he tilted his head, "Really? You and Daniel?"

You nodded painfully, "Yeah—yeah, um I've been thinking about it for a long time?...and this just seems like the right moment, ya know?"

Max was beaming ear to ear, "No, I don't know."

"Okay well, you don't need to get it. I just—I need his phone number please."

Wordless, Max handed you his phone, watching as you opened it and sent yourself Daniel's number, you hopped off the chair, giving him one last awkward smile, "See you later!"

Max watched you go with a fond smile, shaking his head. God he couldn't wait to see what you would get him for Secret Santa.

.

"I'm surprised to hear from you!" was one of the first things Daniel said when he picked up the phone. You were currently in the bathroom with five minutes to spare before ths race started.

"I lost your number!" you defended yourself, peeking under the stall to see if anyone had entered the bathroom, thankful nobody had, "I need your help."

"How may the wise Daniel Ricciardo help thee?"

You pulled a face, shaking your head, "What should I get Max for secret santa?"

"Easy. Get him something family-related."

You got a hear a pin drop. Easy. Something family-related, of course! Max loves his family!

"You are a fucking genius, Daniel."

"So I've been told." you could hear his smirk through the phone. Unfortunately, you didnt have time to hear him continue, "While I have you, how has your season been—“

"Sorry Daniel, can't talk, thanks for the insight! Oh and by the way, if Max or anyone asked I declared my love for you on this call and you very kindly rejected me? Okay? Okay!" before he could splutter out anything, you had already hung up.

.

Max stood in front of the camera crew, a smile on his face as he shook the small envelope, "So it's not a new cat?" he quipped.

The people behidn the camera laughed, the social media admin shrugged with a grin, "It still could be."

Max shook his head as he started to slowly and carefully open the envelope, "I don't think she could manage to fit a cat in here." nobody picked up on the 'she'

Max hummed as he peeked inside the envelope, "I see a note, should I read that first?" he looked at the admin, who shrugged.

"Okay.." he dragged out, pulling out the note, he cleared his throat as he started to read, "Happy Holidays Max! I hope you're reading this after you've opened the actual present..." Max paused, slowly turning up to the crew who were shaking in laughter, he shook his head deciding that it was too late to stop, "Getting you a present was very very, very difficult, but after some help, I was able to make my choice, I really do hope you enjoy the vacation with your mom and sister," he paused before continuing, "And don't worry about booking hotels or babysitters, I got it all done, Merry (early) Christmas Maxie, with love—your secret santa."

With a huge smile, Max placed the letter onto the table, before excitedly reaching into the envelopes, and pulling out three plane ticks, "Wow." he gasped, turning the tickets and showing them off to the camera, "It's three tickets to Greece for me, my mom and sister," he beamed, examining them further, "I've always wanted to go." he whispered to himself.

The camera crew smiled to themselves while the social media admin leaned in with her eyebrow raised, "Any idea who your secret santa was?"

Max nodded almost instantly, laughing slightly, "It's (yn) I recognize her writing."

The admin laughed, shaking her head, "That's cheating Max!"

Max shook his head, pointing at the woman, "It's not my fault I'm good at this!"

The admin waved him off, "Okay! Okay, you were right, it was her."

Max smirked, "I knew it," his eyes unfocused, wandering over to behind the group of people in front of them, curious they all trailed their eyes over to where he was staring, "I guessed right! You can come out now!" Max yelled out, the camera crew gasped as you peeked out of a thick pillar, hopping over to them with a smile.

"She was there the whole time?" the mic man whispered to the cameraman, who shrugged, mouth open in surprise.

"I don't know...but that's slightly scary."

You walked over to Max with a smile, letting out a small squeak as he pulled you into a tight hug unexpectedly, "You guessed so quickly" you groaned, feeling him press a kiss on your head.

"I found your list," Max whispered in your ear, laughing as he felt you tense up.

"Like the list?" you groaned, feeling embarrassment flood your system.

"The list," Max confirmed as you two pulled away.

You winced avoiding eye contact.

Max laughed, reaching over to squeeze your hand, "Thank you. Really. I love the gift."

You smiled proudly, before turning to the admin who was watching the scene with a small smile, "I'm warning you right now that I am never doing secret santa gain."

The woman giggled, a cerstain gleam in her eye, "We'll see about that."

.

a/n: truly impressed with the writers who write 4k words and UP fics, this one is 3.4k and it took me well over two weeks to write (which is why its being uploaded after christmas) anywhoo i hope you guys enjoyed!!!

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ me & my husband ]❜

ft. the salesman (gong ji-cheol) x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ you don’t need your husband to be perfect, you just want him to be honest┊3.3k words

contains: written before s2 came out!! probably ooc or inaccurate, angst with spots of fluff & a bittersweet ending? reader’s pov mostly, suspicions of cheating, lack of communication, mentioned age gap, random inaccurate lore for the salesman

➤ author's note: yeah, i saw the sudden uptick in notes on that gong yoo post i made and realized season 2 came out which i completely forgot about. i intend to watch it soon as possible and write fics for it as well as (probably) add new characters to my writing list, but for now, please be content with this!!

₊˚ʚ 💌₊˚✧ this fic was heavily inspired by “emotionally intoxicated” by aurasaurora!

gong ji-cheol is the poster image for the ideal husband. he’s always been like that from the moment you met him, and you can’t help but feel like you’re the luckiest woman in the world when he calls himself yours. he’s tall and handsome, someone who catches everyone’s eye despite his only being focused on you. he’s wealthy and hard-working, able to call a luxurious mansion your home, and willing to buy you anything your heart desires as long as you ask for it. he spoils you rotten with that money, gifting you expensive things even if you didn’t ask if it reminded him of you. he’s doting, always sure to smother you in affection with kisses and cuddles whenever together to make it known how much he adores you. the sex is great too, he makes you feel wanted and desirable without ever leaving you unsatisfied. 

most importantly though, you love him, and he loves you. the last two years of marriage have been so blissful, and there isn’t a single thing you would change.

at least that’s what you believe most of the time.

you like to think you know a lot about him, and in a way, you do. you know his favorite color, how he likes his coffee, what he usually orders at restaurants, the type of wine he prefers over beer, the exaggerated shocked fasces he likes to make, how his favorite chore is folding the laundry, how his least favorite is doing the dishes because he doesn’t like getting his hands dirty, the name of his childhood pet, what positions he likes to cuddle or fuck in, the names he’s thinking of giving to your child when they are finally born— there are so many little details you know about him, yet at times you feel like you don't know anything at all.

you don’t really know much about his childhood aside from a few random stories, he claims there’s nothing really notable and that it was as standard as can be. you don’t know who his parents were or what they were like because he said they died when he was young, but surely that’s an important loss which must have impacted him and made youth difficult in some way? you don’t know about his past partners if he even had any, but you doubt you were his first as he was yours with a face like his. you don’t know any of his secrets, like an embarrassing moment or something sinful he might have committed in the past. 

he knew all of these things about you and the little details of your life, so why don’t you know any of the most basic things regarding your own husband?

these periods of uncertainty are few and far, but once the icy tendrils of doubt creep in, it’s difficult to shake them off when you realize you only know these things through observations and not him actually telling you. it’s a miracle your stupidity allowed you to make it this far in falling head over heels for him, getting married, and carrying his child (not that you completely regret it, you still love him, but you wish you had given it more time).

they say there are no such things as stupid questions, yet the main question you have is exactly that as it’s something every wife should know even before the marriage. it would be impressive how long you’ve been clueless about this matter if it weren’t for how often and how skilled he is in managing to evade your curiosity and steer the conversation elsewhere. you didn’t want to press on it since he seems to shut it down every time the topic is brought up and you don’t want to fight over something you technically didn’t need to know, but it weighs on you and presses into your chest with the knowledge you were being kept in the dark. 

what did your husband do for a living, exactly?

his schedule is always unpredictably changing with little rhyme or reason and it confuses you. sometimes you’ll go an entire few days without seeing him, sensing him wake up in the morning before the sun is even up, feeling him kiss you on the cheek before getting ready, and not coming back until long after you fall asleep with no communication aside from a note on the table telling you he’ll be gone for the day along with a wad of cash for you to treat yourself while he’s gone. other times he’ll be chilling at home for an entire week, waking you up with aggressive cuddles (or morning sex), making you breakfast with the morning news on in the background, and taking you out to wherever you want to go on his card in his rare casual clothing and messy wavy hair rather than the typical fancy suits and hair styled with gel. 

as far as you’re concerned, he’s a businessman of sorts, although you don’t know what company he works for or what position he has in terms of hierarchy or how an occupation of that type allows such flexibility in hours or anything at all. 

“what if he’s having an affair?”

you paused for a second before continuing the motion of slicing the cheesecake with a fork and savoring the taste in your mouth. “that’s ridiculous,” you stated simply after swallowing. “he loves me very much, and it doesn’t explain his weird schedule either.”

today was spent with some friends you met back in high school, but honestly, you were only attending out of politeness and tradition since you honestly feel like you’ve disconnected from these girls long before the current. still, you treasure the memories shared in your more formative years and wouldn’t ever say no to them if they wanted to hang out like old times. ji-cheol doesn’t bother to hide his distaste for them, calling them a miserable lot who try to drag you down at every opportunity out of jealousy for your happiness. you laugh it off, but you know deep down he’s right and yet you’re still sitting here at the cafe with them with bright smiles like their words don’t cut deep. 

“maybe he’s dating the boss— a sexy office siren type— she gives him plenty of days off and he stays with her at her beach house at jeju island or something to keep her company, and then she gives him lots of money in exchange.”

“oh my god, could you imagine?”

“can you be realistic? it sounds like you’re just writing a plot for a new drama,” you giggled, not allowing the feeling of a twisting blade in your abdomen to show on your face or the venom to drip from your words at the mere thought of the man you loved being stolen away a faceless woman who was everything you wished you were more of: more beautiful, more wealthy, more experienced, more intelligent—

“you don’t know because he’s your first love or whatever— and you’re so lucky to have been able to marry him— but men are dogs, and i don’t see why he would be the exception.”

“but he treats me so well—”

“maybe he only treats you well because you’re pregnant— he probably just feels guilty. i mean, when i was pregnant and had my first, my husband wasn’t attracted to me anymore and demanded a divorce unless i lost the baby weight.” she shrugged like it was so simple, so common, like the notion of marriage wasn’t something so deeply important and could be thrown away so easily.

“we aren’t suggesting you get a divorce, but we’re just saying you should keep an eye on him— you know? a handsome guy like him was always bound to get a lot of attention…” her laugh was shrill and high-pitched, making goosebumps erupt on your skin.

“right… thanks guys…”

that night, you couldn’t stop twisting and turning on the large sectional couch with thoughts rushing through your head of your husband with some other woman. the jealousy from these fictional scenarios without evidence of existence plagued you. it made you want to vomit up the negative feelings and go back to the person you were a few hours ago without the images of him cheating planted in your mind, which didn’t go unnoticed by him and caused him to ask what was bothering you as it wouldn't be good for the baby.

you hesitated for a moment, “could you tell me about your exes?”

“why are you suddenly curious about that?” he chuckled, knowing damn well that it was because of those stupid snakes masquerading as people (it truly takes one to know one) running their mouths again, but still feigning obliviousness for your sake. 

“just wondering,” you muttered. “i mean, you’re the first person i’ve fallen in love with, but you’re a bit older than me so…”

“and i hope to be the only one too,” he smirked confidently, making you laugh as he plopped down on the ground and rested his head on the cushion next to yours. 

it was such a casual setting in such a vast space, bringing you back to the days in your little apartment inviting him over for chicken and beer before you knew about your immense wealth and got embarrassed over your cheap dates when he was so used to expensive restaurants. he found it very endearing though, knowing you liked him for him and not his money.

“well, if you’re so curious…” he trailed off, but you weren’t quite sure if it was because of hesitation or because he simply didn’t know where to start. you can’t remember the last time a conversation like this was held to learn more about him since it was usually about you, maybe back when you first started dating and briefly discussed his late parents.

he started with his crush when he was in middle school since that was his earliest recollection of feeling love, who didn’t really count as a girlfriend or love because nothing was established and because of their age, but she was his first kiss that he ran away from right after because of how nervous he was, and it was never addressed again. apparently it was his second girlfriend who taught him everything he knew before he met you, saying she basically “trained him like a dog” to create a gentleman out of an inexperienced boy who still wasn’t quite sure how to treat a woman like a queen. she was a bit mean though, and he didn’t realize he dodged a bullet until later after realizing she was unnecessarily cruel to him for no reason multiple times if he didn’t do things exactly her way.

you suppose you always knew your husband wasn’t always the suave charmer you know him to be, but the image of younger him being clueless on matters of romance made you burst out laughing because of how you could hardly picture it.

he reached over to pinch your cheek affectionately, “are you of all people really making fun of me when you were too scared to hold my hand for me to escort you out of my car?”

“oh my god, that was on our first date, i can’t be blamed! i was shaking like crazy on that day— you had to tell me that you didn’t bite.”

“i was actually thinking about calling off our date last minute because of an emergency at work,” he confessed, “but i’m glad i didn’t and met the love of my life instead.”

“aw, you flirt.” the memory made you smile and feel all giggly inside, all the fears you had about him possibly having an affair falling away, yet there were still some lingering at the back of your mind with the mention of his job. “what happened at work?”

“nothing that important,” he said instantly like clockwork. “just some boring business things.”

you didn’t push it, not wanting to ruin the mood, but once again, your curiosity was just itching to ask more questions about his work life even if it was truly as boring as he says. you wanted to know every mundane detail whether it was what his office looked like or what the annoying co-worker did on a daily basis, anything to satiate your need to know more about this mysterious man you had made life-long vows with.

it all came to a head one night while you were cooking dinner, you heard the doorbell ring a dozen times in quick succession and answered it to find an older man with fiery red hair that seemed to match his temper. when he addressed your husband by name and verified your relationship with him, he began spewing all kinds of insults about the blood he had on his hands by luring innocent people to their deaths and you felt your heart drop. you tried to reason with him that there must have been some sort of mistake, barely able to get your words out in a fit of confusion and surprise at the absurd accusation, but he wouldn’t hear you out and pointed a finger in your face, asking if you had any idea what gong ji-cheol was doing behind your back. 

at that very moment, he was suddenly seized by two anonymous men in all black, causing him to yell out in panic as they dragged him away and stuffed him in the back of a car before quickly driving off into the night without a trace. it all happened so fast, you just stood there with your mouth open in shock, wondering if you should call the police on what looked like an abduction. 

then your husband comes running up the steps with his locked briefcase in hand, shouting out your name, asking you if you’re okay, pulling you back inside the comfort of your shared home, and checking you all over to make sure you aren’t harmed in any way. when you ask about who that man was and what he was talking about, he simply told you he was some crazy customer who was dissatisfied with the company, was looking for someone to blame, and promised to tell you the details later. 

you didn’t tell him that you didn’t believe him, just pursed your lips and furrowed your brow for a second then let go of the topic like you always do, taking his coat off his shoulders with a peck on the lips asking how his day was. he reciprocated the kiss, said it was fine without anything special, and that he would shower before having dinner, something he didn’t really need to say since you already knew but stated anyway as per evening routine. 

as he headed up the stairs and disappeared from sight, you stared at the locked briefcase resting crookedly on the little entryway table and paused for a moment. if you did this, it would be a breach of privacy and a sign of growing distrust in your husband, but it could also answer all of the questions that never cease. 

your hands wouldn’t stop shaking involuntarily as you felt the cold black metal underneath your fingertips, marveling at the smooth material clean of any scratches or dents. fidgeting with the built-in combination lock, six number sequences started rushing through your mind as you started to hastily run through your options with a focus on dates. you were determined to only do this three times since you had no idea if an alarm would be set off or if it would close off permanently.

his birthday?

an electronic beep went off indicating you were incorrect, making you nervous.

your birthday?

wrong again, you only had one attempt left. you swallowed, shaking the accumulating sweat off your hands.

the date of your wedding?

you gasped as the locks suddenly flipped open and lightly knocked against the briefcase. it was undone, you could open it at any moment now and see it all.

and yet you still hesitated during this golden opportunity. was it the fact that the passcode to his most secret possession was the day you got married? was it guilt for going behind your husband’s back for answers instead of directly asking him? was it because you were afraid of what you would find if you discovered the red-haired man was telling the truth?

whatever it was, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and locked it again, leaving it looking untouched and went back to playing dinner.

there was a heavy tension present at the dinner table that night, the only conversation present being him interrogating you about what the red-haired man talked about word-for-word. not really interrogating since his tone of voice was still calm and gentle as he asked questions, but you could see him fidgeting with his fork and not leaving much room for any other topic until he was sure you told him everything. he then sighed and claimed the man was insane, a gambling addict who was too deep in debt to afford treatment and was trying to drag him into his misery after meeting at the subway station. 

“ji-cheol?”

he froze for a second, not used to hearing you use his real name rather than a pet name. “yes?”

“what do you do for a living, exactly?”

a pause, you watched him fidget with his chopsticks and shift the grains of rice around. “you know, business stuff— nothing you need to concern yourself about—“

“but i don’t know! that’s the thing!” you felt tears starting to well up behind your eyes, letting two years of frustration trickle through. “i know it doesn’t seem that important for me to know, but is it really so important that you leave me in the dark about it for the three years we’ve been lovers? and now some guy comes to our doorstep and tells me about how your job is playing games with people at the subway station to make them participate in death games?!” you took a deep breath, calming yourself down, “please, be honest with me, that’s all i want…”

“i-i…” that was the first time you’ve ever heard him stutter, and if the situation wasn’t so tense, you would be proud you finally got one-up on him. “i can’t say… it’s for your own safety and mine.”

“so he was right?”

he remained silent, trying to think of some way to counter what seong gi-hun had told you, but if you didn’t believe the elaborate lie he already told you and wanted to learn more, then he knew this was the end of the road. 

“i-i need some time to think…” you looked defeated and it broke his heart. “i’m going to my mom’s house tonight, i’ll be back tomorrow—“ you got up, not bothering to pack anything aside from your phone and your wallet.

he had prepared for you to start screaming and crying (not that he would blame you, i mean, who would willingly stay with a man who was complicit in mass murder), demanding a divorce and packing your things to shut the door for him never to be seen again with your unborn child. the strangely calm reaction was both a relief and extremely unsettling to him.

“i won’t be mad if you decide not to come back” he stated plainly, defeated in a state you’ve never seen him in before. “whatever choice you make, i’ll support you, just know i love you— more than anything else in this world.”

you stared at him blankly through the open doorway. perhaps your husband isn’t the perfect man you believed him to be, but he was as honest as he possibly could have been with you regarding the matter, and that’s enough. 

“i love you too, i’ll be back in the morning.” that’s how you feel at the moment, but you don’t know if you’ll feel the same way tomorrow morning when it sinks in.

[absurdthirst]

The Christmas Auction {Joel Miller x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 11.5k

Warnings: No Outbreak AU, no Ellie AU, Sarah Lives AU, possible age gap (never mentioned), gruff Joel, grumpiness, snarking and bickering, Christmas auction, date auction, awkwardness, chivalry, drinking, mentions of gun violence, flirting, making out, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), cum eating, sweetness, Joel is a gruff love bug.

Comments: You hate going to Miller Bros Hardware, sparring with hot, grumpy Joel Miller over every damn thing you buy for your DIY renovation project. What you don't realize is that he is just making sure you aren't getting in over your head. When you come up on stage for the Christmas Picnic Date auction to fund the park vegetable patch, Joel is conned into bidding on you. Sending you both on a date for the holidays that will change everything.

🎄🎄Merry Christmas Everyone! We wanted a sweet and sappy Christmas love story for Joel!🎄🎄

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Joel Miller MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Motherfucker.” You curse as you kneel down, flashlight in hand as you look under your sink to find a pinhole leak coming from the p-trap. Your new home - built in 1920 - is beautiful. A project for sure, but its original wood floors sold you on it. You didn’t anticipate how much of a project it would be. You’re a handy girl. Able to do minor jobs but this house has proven itself to be a challenge. You won’t give up and you’ll be damned if you hire someone to do something you can look online and find. Luckily, there’s a hardware store down the street from the house and you sigh, turning off the water after cleaning it up and once you have a bucket under the sink just in case, you grab your keys and make your way to the hardware store down the street, 'Miller Brothers'.

You walk into the store, glancing at the counter and he’s not there. “Thank God.” You murmur, hoping his brother is here, and you find the plumbing aisle. You bite your lip, trying to find what you need, and you scan the items, a frown on your face when you aren’t sure what you need. “Can I help you find something?” His voice makes your spine straighten and you turn to look at him, “nope. I’m good.” You quip, not needing another one of his pity searches for what you need.

Fuck. Joel Miller. The grumpy, handsome, surly, opinionated hardware store owner. You heard he used to own his own construction company down in Texas, but you don’t really care. You try not to care at least, because it seems like he has no great opinion of you renovating your house yourself. He frowns at you, that fucking disapproving set to his brow as glances at the section you are in. “Got a leak?”

You sigh, turning to look at him, and you hum, “nothing I can’t handle. Just need a new p-trap.” You explain and Joel clicks his tongue. “You could just foam it.” He counters and you shake your head, looking at him, “I want to replace it. It’s old.” You trail your eyes along his form, “seems to be how things are around here.”

Joel frowns, feeling insulted by the obvious insulation that he’s old. “Yeah.” He grunts, his arms folding over his chest. “Well, figure it out, I guess.” He huffs before he turns away to walk back to the front. “Let me know when you need help.”

You can watch him watch off and you turn back to the parts, biting your lip as you scan for what you need. You sigh, glancing down the aisle to where he’s restocking something and you are worried that you will have to ask him for it until you turn around and it’s there. “Aha!” You silently cheer and make your way down the aisle to make your way to the cash register.

Joel takes his time coming back to the register, slightly amused by the way you are sighing quietly as you wait. He looks at the part and lifts a brow, glancing back at you. “That all?”

You nod, opening your purse to pull out your card. “Yeah. That’s it.” You say and he punches the amount into his ancient register. “We don’t take American Express.” He says, glancing at your card, and you huff, “fine.” You reach in to grab your Visa card and he smirks, “I gotta add 3% if it’s a credit card. Fees and all that.” You roll your eyes and nod, handing him the card. “Should’ve just driven to Lowes.” You mutter when he hands you back the card and the bag with the part in. You don’t say goodbye as you leave, knowing you’ll likely have to return to the store. The big stores are about a 45 minute drive from your home and you don’t have time to be driving there for every little thing you need.

Joel watches you walk out of the door, wondering when you will figure out that you need some plumber’s glue for your DIY project. He snorts to himself and shakes his head before he walks back to the shelves he had been stocking. Maybe you’ll go to Lowe’s this time, if you do he won't be able to learn what happens.

You wake up a few days later and curse, the house is freezing. You shiver, trying to layer up as much as possible, and you go downstairs to inspect the furnace. “Fuck.” You hiss, guessing the pilot has gone out, not relighting no matter how much you curse it and you shake as you get ready to make your way back to Miller’s, knowing you need the part before you freeze to death in this damn house. You exhale in relief when your car is hot and toasty after the heating kicks in and you drive to the hardware store. You enter looking frazzled to see Joel standing behind the counter. “Back so soon?” He smirks and you scoff, “emergency visit.” You don’t explain as you walk down the aisles, trying to find what you desperately need.

You are completely vexing to him and he watches you disappear before he sighs and pushes off the counter to walk around and follow you. Prickly and abrasive since the very first time you walked into his store. He finds you on the aisle where he stocks furnace parts and he frowns. “You having problems with your heat?” He asks and you snort. “What gave it away?” You mutter sarcastically as you search the shelves. “Furnace repairs are tricky, especially if you have a gas furnace.” He lectures. “You can have a carbon monoxide leak and if you don’t have a detector, you can fucking kill your self.”

You roll your eyes, “I am freezing my ass off. I need this fixed right away and I - I can’t afford to have someone come over and fix it.” You confess, biting your lip as you stare at the parts to avoid his eyes. The house was left to you by your aunt who didn’t do anything to maintain the home. You’re not sure if you’re going to sell the house or not but you can’t afford expensive repairmen coming in to help you. “I can handle it. It’s just the pilot.” You murmur, reaching for the part you need.

“Here.” Joel knocks your hand away from the part that is not exactly the best quality and reaches over for the better part. It’s a few dollars more but it will last twice as long. “This is the one you want.” He grunts. “Better components. Buy this one and I’ll send Tommy over to put it in for you.” He offers, lifting a brow when you open your mouth to protest. “No charge.” He huffs, knowing you will argue about things all day if you could.

You huff, “I don’t need help. I’m fully capable of doing it.” You argue and Joel raises his eyebrows in disbelief. You swallow harshly and sigh, “I, uh, that would be nice. Thank you.” You murmur, taking the part from his hand.

“Don’t mention it.” He doesn’t think that this is some kind of bonding moment, so he just turns and starts towards the front counter again. “You should use your fireplace too.” He knows your house, he helped your aunt clean out a bird’s nest from the chimney a few years ago. “It heats up the living space pretty good.”

You raise your eyebrows at how he knows that and you nod, “thanks for the tip.” He nods and guides you over to the register so you can pay for the part. “I’ll be home all day. Just send Tommy when you can.” You say, knowing that the older brother wouldn’t dare come to your home. He’d probably soon face a zombie apocalypse. “Thanks.” You say after you pay and take the bag, making your way out of the warm store with a shiver, knowing you’ll put a fire on when you return home.

**** 

“Why don’t you go do it?” Tommy’s smirk makes Joel want to punch him as he leans against the counter. “Because I can make you do it.” Joel snorts as he looks up from the inventory sheet from the delivery. “I’ve got shit to do.” He adds. Tommy grins, leaning against the counter and watching Joel. “You know, I’ve noticed that you seem to help her out more than anyone else that comes in here.” He says. His younger brother is annoying and it seems like he’s more annoying now than ever. “Because she’s obviously in over her head.” He shoots back. “Why don’t you go fix her furnace and leave me alone?” Tommy chuckles and raises his hands in defeat, “okay, okay, I just thought maybe you were ready to get back into the saddle after Tess.” Joel frowns immediately at the mention of her name and sighs but he doesn’t say anything. Tommy hates that he still blames himself, there was nothing he could do about her infection. He had told her to go get a tetanus shot, but by the time she had gone to the doctor, she was septic. 

“So, uh, you going to the fundraiser?” He asks, changing the subject. Joel groans and shakes his head. “Why?” He demands, “I’ll just donate some money. Why do I need to go to the damn thing?”

Tommy chuckles, “it’s for a good cause and Maria is the chair of the fundraiser this year. Gotta pay for that new park vegetable patch.” Tommy says and Joel scoffs, “like we are in a damn commune. Go on, get out of here.” Joel motions with his hand and Tommy chuckles as he grabs his tool box. 

**** 

“You tried doing it before I got here?” Tommy asks and you bite your lip as you shove your hands in your jeans. “Yeah. I’m impatient and, uh, I lit the fire so I wasn’t freezing. I like to try it first before I call someone out.” You tell Tommy and you have some cash you can give him but a $200 call out like you got quoted for any job around here is way too much to pay out for.

“Well, don’t worry about it.” Tommy promises, sending you a reassuring smile. “Why don’t you go upstairs and make something hot to drink and stay by the fire so you can warm up.” He tells you. “Joel told me to make sure you were fixed up right so you stay warm this winter.”

You frown, “he did?” Tommy nods and you soften a little, wondering if the asshole who is always questioning your abilities is not as bad as you thought. “Didn’t know he had it in him.” You murmur and make your way upstairs to boil the kettle.

Tommy smirks as he watches you walk up the stairs before he pulls out his phone and sends a text. Maria had been right and tonight was going to be interesting.

You sip your tea until Tommy comes upstairs to check the thermostat and nods, "all done." You sigh in relief, "thank you so much." You reach for the cash and hand it to him but he shakes his head. "I can't accept that." He says and you hold it towards him, "please. I insist." 

Tommy shakes his head, "I don't want your cash but...you can come to the fundraiser tonight. My wife is hosting and she needs more women." You frown, "more women?" Tommy nods, "yeah. It's, uh, it's a Christmas Picnic Date. We are raffling off dates with local women and she needs one more girl." He reveals and you chuckle, "sounds awkward." Tommy snorts, "don't worry. It's usually their friends and family who bid to get them out of a date with old man Jenkins." You furrow your brow when he says "you'd really be helping her out." You bite your lip, knowing you need to meet more people and also pay Tommy back for his help. "Sure. What time?" You ask and Tommy grins, giving you all the details.

**** 

“Why the hell do I have to be here?” Joel nods to Maria when he sees her and wishes he was at home. Maybe Sarah would call tonight. He hadn’t talked to his daughter in about a week, her finals brutal and he hadn’t wanted to distract her from studying. “Oh shut up, you old bastard.” Tommy shoves his shoulder playfully. “Liven up and have some fun.”

Joel grumbles but nods, crossing his arms as he watches Maria prepare the girls on stage. “Isn’t this a little, uh, dated?” Joel asks, unsure if men should be making bids on women. Tommy snorts, “it’s just a dinner. No one is fucking or anything…unless they want to. It’s for a good cause and the girls all agreed to it.” Tommy says and the music plays as Maria introduces the girls. You brush down your dress, walking across the small stage set up in the community center, and your eyes widen a little when you see Joel standing there with Tommy. Since when did he get involved in anything in the community? You wonder who he will try to get a date with. Maybe Helen, the pretty girl who runs the flower shop.. You had put in some effort with your dress tonight, wanting to raise as much money as possible for Maria who has been nothing but nice to you since you moved into town.

Joel shifts uncomfortably and bites his lip as he looks around the room. It’s a good turn out and everyone here seems excited. You are here, that’s surprising, since it seems like you don’t get out much. Or maybe it’s because he doesn’t get out much so he doesn’t see you. 

“Everyone knows why we are here tonight, so let’s have fun and raise as much money as possible!” Maria reminds everyone before bringing the first girl to the center stage to auction off a date with her. “Oh, are you going to bid on a date with Helen?” Tommy asks beside him teasingly. “I always see her making eyes at you.” Joel huffs. “Shut up.”

You watch as Maria calls out for the first girl whose boyfriend eagerly bids on her and wins. She beams and walks off stage to kiss him. Young love. You shift from one foot to the other as another girl is auctioned off. “And now we have Helen.” Maria announces and you clap, your eyes scanning the crowd for Joel to see what he is going to do. Helen said before the event that she wants Joel to bid on her and you scoffed and asked why she’d want to go on a date with such a miserable bastard.

“You should bid.” Tommy continues to annoy Joel, making him frown even harder as the bidding starts. He can tell that Helen wants him to, seeing her glancing over at him as old man Jenkins bids on her company. He crosses his arms over his chest, and shakes his head at his brother.

No one wants old man Jenkins. He talks about the Vietnam War and how the government has been out to get him ever since. He’s a little creepy and no one has a bad story but no one wants to be the one to get one. Helen is saved when one of the firefighters, Jack, bids on her. He’s younger than Joel and has a crush on the florist. She blushes as he bids higher to earn her date and when the final bid is called, he’s beaming and she is flustered at the attention. You are up next and you inhale deeply, prepared to get the lowest bid. No one really knows you apart from you inheriting your aunt’s house. You shift from one foot to the other while Maria calls out for a bid and you silently groan when old man Jenkins is the first to make a bid. “Anyone else?” Maria asks, looking at Tommy who is standing next to Joel.

Tommy elbows Joel hard in the side, making him gasp out a loud “hey!” and Maria beams. “Joel Miller with a bid!” She calls out, making Tommy chuckle and Joel looks up in shocked confusion. “Anyone else? Anyone else want a date with this gorgeous young woman?” She asks the room and several other men quickly start bidding on you.

Your heart pounds and you watch the men bid until Mr Jenkins tops the bid and the other men falter. Your smile falls and you glance around, wanting anyone to help you out of a date with the old man.

“You aren’t going to make her put up with Jenkins, are you?” Joel had watched the bidding with a sense of relief that his own bid had been overridden and now he knows that Tommy had done it on purpose. “You’re a fucking asshole.” He hisses, but he lifts his hand. “Here.” He calls out, bidding the old man up again.

Mr Jenkins wants company and you are the last option. His hand goes up and he bids, “$800.” Your eyes widen and you choke. The most money anyone has bid by tenfold and you can’t believe you’re going on a date with the old man.

Tommy nudges Joel again and he sighs, rolling his eyes. “$1000!” He calls out, glowering at the old man and daring him to challenge his bid. His brother grins. “Sold!” Tommy shouts out, making everyone laugh.

Your eyes widen and your heart pounds, you wonder if it would’ve been better to deal with old man Jenkins instead of dealing with Joel Miller. Maria claps and you bite your lip with worry as you make your way off the stage to approach Joel. Tommy makes a swift exit and you step in front of the grumpy owner. “I, uh, thanks for doing that. I, um, I owe you. I don’t really have $1000 right now but I can pay it back to you weekly.” You say, unsure of why he even bid on you to save you.

Joel frowns at you, wondering if you would have preferred that he not bid on the date with you. “No.” He grunts. “Was gonna donate to the community thing anyway.” He shrugs. “You’re not paying me back.”

You glance around and notice everyone getting ready to head off on their dates. “Wow. Uh, that’s really generous. What do you - you can just go home if you want.” You add, unsure what he wants from you, but Maria comes over with an envelope. “Included in the date is a gift card to the steak house. Everyone got a different place for the date…you guys got the best since Joel bid so much.” Maria winks at her brother in law, “so off you go. Date time.” She claps her hands and you look at Joel who shrugs, “I could eat a steak. Hard to turn down a free dinner.” You nod, agreeing with that. You’ve been putting so much money into the house that you’ve been surviving on Ramen and what you could muster. “Sure. I can eat.” You offer him a small smile and he scratches his neck, “you wanna get your coat?” He asks since it’s freezing outside but Tommy appears with your coat and purse, “here you go. Have a good time kids.” He teases and Joel snorts, shaking his head as he shrugs on his own coat. You struggle with your purse and the coat so Joel takes it from you, holding it up so you can slide into it. “Thank you.” You murmur, uneasy at this nice side of the grumpy man. He guides you outside and you glance at your car that has literally enough gas to get home and Joel doesn’t hesitate to open the door to his truck. Your teeth chatter as you slide into the passenger seat and after he gets in, he cranks up the heat.

“Turn the vents towards you.” He instructs when he notices how cold you are. “She heats up quick.” The best thing about his old truck is how warm the cab will get. “Soon enough you’ll be as warm as your house now that the furnace is working.”

You rub your hands together as the cab warms quickly and you stop shaking. The radio plays ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You’ while Joel drives to the steakhouse and you are starving. You don’t say anything until he parks the truck and opens the door after cutting the engine. You already have your door open and he huffs when he rounds the truck, “can’t let anyone do anything for you.” He mutters and you narrow your eyes, “sorry. Am I supposed to expect chivalry from you?” You ask, raising your eyebrows.

Joel snorts and shakes his head, reaching for the door and pushing it closed behind you before putting his hand on your back to guide you towards the cheerfully decorated steakhouse. “Forget about it.” He grumbles, mainly to himself. “Let’s just get something to eat.”

You let him guide you inside and your stomach growls at the smell of the food. “I’m starving.” You groan and Joel asks for a table for two. The waitress is a girl that went to high school with Sarah. She guides you to the table and Joel pulls the chair out for you.

He can see your surprise and it stings. He’s not that bad, is he? You thank him and once you are sat down, he settles into the chair opposite to you. “Do you want a beer?” He asks before he shrugs. “Or wine if that’s more your speed?” He knows he could use a shot and a beer, but he doubts you would approve of him ordering a double Blanton’s.

You scan the menu, “beer sounds good. And I could really use a shot.” You groan softly and Joel smiles, “you read my mind.” You lower your menu and raise your eyebrows in surprise, a smile on your face as you look at him just as the waitress comes over to take your drinks order.

“Two beers.” He orders, pointing to the draft that he prefers and hums. “And two, two fingers glasses of Blanton’s.” He knows the whiskey is pricy, but everything here is pricy and it’s a good bourbon.

The waitress nods, “sure thing, Mr. Miller.” You raise your eyebrows at his taste but the man just spent $1000 and he has a nice gift card for this dinner. “Good choice.” You tell him and he hums, scanning the menu. “Have you been here before?” You ask, curious since the waitress knows him.

“Only once.” Joel shrugs and looks back at the waitress as she walks away. “Jamie went to school with my daughter.” He tells you with a shake of his head. “Makes me feel old, but I remember the screaming karaoke sessions in my living room while they talked about boys.” He smiles at the memory and looks down at the menu again.

You chuckle, “how old is your daughter?” You ask, knowing you’ve never really had a discussion about anything other than DIY parts and you gotta admit you’re intrigued. “She’s in college. Shit. That makes me really old, huh?” He snorts and you shake your head, “wiser not older.” You reason, “and you seem to have your shit together.”

“Yeah.” He flashes a frown for just a second, guilty about being on a date with you - even if it is a charity event - settles over him for a second. “It’s been a long time since I moved to Wyoming.”

“Where are you from?” You ask and he taps his fingers on the menu, “Austin. When Sarah - her mom left us when she was two and I decided it was time for a change when Sarah nearly died. She was, uh, shot during a robbery in a gas station and she survived. I had to get her out of there and Tommy had been researchin’ and found this place. Then he met Maria and the rest is history.” He says and your eyes are wide, “wow. I’m so glad Sarah is okay. Shit. You must’ve - I can’t even imagine.” You can see now why he’s a little gruff. “I needed to move from the city. Work was killing me. My ex wanted me to keep working more to help pay the bills while working out, cooking, cleaning, making sure I looked like a damn model. It was exhausting and when my aunt died and left me the house, I left it all behind. I had to escape.” You reveal, “left everything behind and put all my money into the house.”

“It’s a good house.” He sits back and wonders what kind of idiot you had been with. “Good bones. Solid.” He watches your brows shoot up in surprise. “Your aunt had me come in about two years ago to give her an estimate on upgrading it.” He reveals. “She got sick right after that, so we didn’t get around to it.”

Your heart clenches at the fact that your aunt was alone when she died. “That’s why I want to restore it. Finish what she wants. It’s what she wrote in her letter to me she left in her will. I want to do it right and that’s why- it’s why I want to do so much by myself. I can’t afford a big renovation so it’s gotta be done bit by bit.” You sigh, “and I am trying to do it myself to save money so I can pay for materials.”

“You can’t do it all yourself, though.” Joel points out. “Some of that shit is heavy, believe me. She’s got a fucking cast iron tub in that downstairs bathroom. That bitch is easily eight hundred pounds.”

You narrow your eyes, “so you don’t think I can do it? I’m not capable?” You scoff and roll your eyes, “of course. That’s why you question me every time I buy something in your store, huh? You don’t think a woman like me can do it all?”

Joel frowns, completely caught off guard by the accusation. “No, that’s not what I- fuck, sweetheart, it would take me, Tommy and at least one other guy to muscle that fucking tub out of the bathroom.” He huffs. “And we used to build houses.” He shakes his head. “I question you because I was trying to make sure you were getting what you needed.” He hates how defensive you are and knows this was a bad idea. “Waste your money from now on, shit.”

You are taken back by his concern and you lean back, mouth agape as you stare at him. “I- you - you were trying to help me?” You ask and he nods, “that’s all I was trying to do.” You swallow harshly and look at the table cloth, feeling guilty. “I’m - shit - I’m sorry. My ex - he didn’t think I could do anything but go to Pilates and cook pasta. Didn’t think I was smart enough to do anything ‘difficult’ and it’s a hot button for me. I’m sorry Joel.” You murmur, “I can, uh, go if you want to enjoy dinner alone.”

“You want to leave me to eat by myself?” He makes a face at that and shakes his head. “No thanks.” He leans forward and interlace his fingers on the table as he looks at your embarrassed face. “I know that you don’t have a lot of experience with renos.” He chuckles. “You can always tell when you’ve worked construction and when you haven’t. So when you’d come in for stuff, I’d just- I’d make sure that it was what you needed for what you wanted to do.” He looks down at his own rough hands. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel like I thought you were incompetent.”

You lean closer, reaching out to place your hand on top of his. "I'm sorry. I didn't - I thought you were being condescending and I guess I am sensitive to being told what to do. I'm sorry, Joel." You say softly, "I'd like to start again. If you want...I'd like to have dinner with you." You pull your hand away when he doesn't respond right away.

Joel shifts in his seat, looking up at you and wondering why you would want to have dinner with him. “What kind of steak were you thinking?” He asks. “The sirloin is pretty damn good. They have a surf and turf if you like seafood.”

You hum, picking up and scanning the menu, “sirloin sounds good. I like a New York Strip too.” You murmur and he nods, “good choice. Tell me you ain’t one of those women that has it well done.” He tilts his head and you scoff, “hell no. Medium rare.” He clicks his tongue, “good girl.” Those words make you shift in your seat, seeing him in a new light now that you know he was trying to help you and not mock you.

The waitress brings the drinks and Joel thanks her, sliding your whiskey glass over to you. “Blanton’s goes down smooth.” He warns you. “But don’t drop it in your beer. That’s a sin.”

You chuckle and nod, picking up the glass, “to renovations.” You toast and he nods, lifting his glass up until he takes a sip. “That’s some good shit.” You gasp after you swallow the sip. Joel smirks, “I told you.” The look on his face has your stomach twisting and you realize that he’s more than handsome. He’s sexy. You glance down at his hands and wonder what they are capable of.

“So, you moved here because your aunt left you the place?” He asks, setting the whiskey down and picking up his beer. He wants to talk since you seem to be warming up to him. At least the glances you give him aren’t hostile. “And you want to renovate it to, what? Sell it? Keep it?”

You set your glass down, “I want to keep it. She was so happy here and it’s beautiful. It’s freezing cold but I love it. I want to stay, settle down.” You confess, “I want to relax and enjoy the fresh air.” You sigh and pick up your beer, taking a sip. “I want to make it my forever home.”

“It’s a good house.” He agrees, although he wonders if you want to start a family and raise kids there. “The sewing room she had off her bedroom, that was originally the nursery.” He tells you. “She said she changed it when she realized having kids wasn’t in the cards for her and her husband.”

You tap your fingers on the table cloth, “I was thinking about making it a library. Since I doubt kids are in my future, either. A nice library with a bench in the window to watch the world go by while I’m reading.” You smile softly at the thought, knowing the summer will be beautiful and you are excited to see the blue skies above and the flowers blooming when spring arrives.

He’s surprised by that, lifting a brow and humming. “It’s got nice natural light.” He concedes. “And if you wanted to, you could easily change the hearth into a doubled sided one.” He had always thought that would look good in a house. “The fireplace in the bedroom warms that space, but I’m sure it would nice to see the fire crackling while you are reading.”

You tilt your head, liking his idea, "maybe you do know what you're talking about after all, Miller." You tease and he snorts, "spent enough time earning my stripes." He retorts and you nod, noticing how his hands look worn and worked. Your stomach twists again and for a brief moment you wonder what his fingers would feel like on your skin. "Maybe one day. Right now I just want the place to be liveable. Bless her, she didn't maintain anything. It's been a mess to tackle but I am getting there."

“Yeah.” He winces slightly, aware of the hurdles you have in order to completely restore that old house. “Well, you know, now that you are aware that I’m not mansplaining home improvement, you can always ask me for help.” He smirks slightly, using a term Sarah had taught him. She had huffed when he was talking about the craftsman era houses after they had finished flipping their first house in Jackson and he was talking to the people who bought it at the open house.

You chuckle, "maybe you could come over sometime? Help me figure out a game plan to get it to where it needs to be?" You ask and he nods, "sure thing, sweetheart." The nickname warms you and you look at the whiskey. Surely you aren't tipsy off two sips. The waitress comes over to take your order and you order your meal first and watch Joel as he orders his steak. He's sexy. His graying hair and scruffy beard makes your stomach twist again and you pick up your glass of whiskey to have a sip.

“Rare.” He nods when she confirms it. “The mashed potatoes and gravy with onions and mushrooms.” He looks over at you. “You want some of that spinach au gratin? It’s pretty good. We could split it.”

You nod, “that sounds good.” You are starving and this is the best meal you’ve had since you moved to Jackson. The waitress adds that to the order and smiles before she walks off. “I still can’t believe you paid a thousand dollars to go on a date with me. I seriously thought you would’ve paid five hundred not to go.” You giggle as you pick up your glass and take a sip of it, loving the burn as it slides down your throat.

He chuckles. “Even if I hated you, I couldn’t let Mr. Jenkins ramble on about his gout and this weird fungus that developed under his arms.” He smirks. “Swears it’s a byproduct of Agent Orange and then will give you a rundown of his entire two months in Vietnam.”

You wrinkle your nose, "I knew he was bad but not that bad. God...I owe you. A lot." You say and Joel scoffs, shaking his head, "you're new in town. You don't need that shit." He says and you smile, "didn't know you cared that much. I like it."

Joel is a sarcastic son of a bitch, it’s gotten worse over the years. Tommy says he’s become a grumpy old bastard and he almost comes back with a sharp retort. Until he sees your smile. A shy, almost hopeful thing that makes your eyes brighten and his stomach twists in response. “You do?” He asks, almost as hopeful and he swallows nervously when you nod. “That’s- that’s good.”

His tone makes your heart flutter as his dark eyes flick over your face as if he’s reading your expression. You keep a soft smile on your face and the waitress brings some bread. You both reach for the same piece at the same time, his fingers brushing yours and you pull your hand back, “you take it.” You insist and he shakes his head, nudging the basket towards you. You smile and take the roll, nudging the basket back towards him while your fingers tingle. You have no idea what happened but you feel attracted to him.

There has been a shift in the atmosphere, a welcomed one. Even if you seem to be hesitating to talk, the silence is not tense. It’s almost anticipatory. As if both of you are waiting for some cue from the other. “Did the house heat up?” He asks. “Tommy said he got you fixed up.”

“It is warm and toasty. Thanks for sending Tommy over. I really needed the heat back in the house. I was wearing two pairs of pants and socks to try and keep warm overnight.” You confess with an embarrassed whisper.

“Why didn’t you use the fireplace?” Joel frowns, hating the thought of you freezing your ass off last night. He knows how cold it can get without heat up here. It can be deadly.

“I, uh, couldn’t find a lot of wood around town.” You confess, “and I’m not the kind of woman to be out there chopping down a tree…no matter how determined I might be.” You chuckle softly, “I was fine. I survived.”

He huffs slightly, making a mental note to have a cord of wood delivered to your house tomorrow. It’s not good to just rely on the furnace here when the temperature gets down into the negative numbers. Besides, he thinks you will enjoy a fire in the bedroom.

He huffs and you tear off a piece of bread. "The only way it would've been better is if I had someone to warm me up." You murmur without really thinking about it, popping a piece of bread into your mouth and glancing around the restaurant.

Joel grunts and picks up his beer for another drink. “Didn’t think I outbid a boyfriend.” He comments. “So I don’t think I’m stepping on someone’s foot, but you have someone in mind?” He also knows that if you were with him, he wouldn’t let you be trying to do all that remodeling by yourself. He just couldn’t.

You tilt your head, seeing him in this new light, and fuck, you like him. You are attracted to him. You tear off another piece of bread and look at him under your eyelashes, "maybe...there's this grumpy hardware store owner that I've had a change of heart about lately."

Joel’s eyes widen, nearly choking on his whiskey as he was just taking a sip. “Yeah?” He slaps his chest and swallows before he smirks slightly. “You think you like him?”

You shrug, “I’ve only just got to know him but I like what I see so far.” You smirk back after popping the piece of bread into your mouth to chew. “But I don’t think he likes me. Felt pity for me. I don’t think he feels the same way.”

He chuckles, amused by the tactic you are using. “That so?” He asks, leaning back in his chair and feeling somewhat at ease with the flirting that’s happening. It’s been a long goddamn time since he’s done that, but he can try. “Damn shame if he wasn’t interested.” He hums. “Me? See, I watch this cute little thing’s ass that comes in my store all the time.” He admits. “Half the reason I follow her around. Other half is because she doesn’t have a clue what she’s doing.” He’s teasing you, so he sends you a small wink.

His words make your face heat up and you giggle, leaning closer to rest your forearms on the table. “I kinda know what I’m doing.” You defend yourself and Joel raises his eyebrows until you sigh, “sometimes…you really look at my ass? Didn’t even notice.” You confess, “but I like that. I’ve stared at your hands.” You admit, “wondered what they’d look like at work.”

“You’ve got a nice ass.” He compliments, shrugging slightly. “Depends on what kind of work you want them doing.” He tells you, knowing whatever happens is up to you. “Maybe you want me to spend the rest of the date fixing that leaky faucet you keep buying Plumber's putty for.”

You hum, "I'd like you to fix my leaky faucet but I was imagining what I think about when I'm cold in bed and trying to warm up. Your big hands touching me, warming me up and - and creating a new leak." Your cheeks are burning but you feel emboldened by the look on his face.

He smirks, knowing that you have to have at least found him attractive when you were snarking at him to think about him in your bed. “I’m pretty good at tearing things apart and putting them back together.” He admits.

You shift in your seat at the thought and you are about to retort but the waitress comes back with your food. Joel settles back in his seat and you groan at the smell of the steak. “God, I’m starving.” You confess and pick up your knife and fork.

He watches as you cut into the steak with gusto. Wondering if you just don’t cook at home much. He wouldn’t blame you, he rarely cooks for himself. It’s either a microwave meal or Maria taking pity on him. “I know I’m looking forward to this.” He chuckles. “I get tired of those Hungry Man dinners.”

You snort, knowing he would definitely be the kind of man to have a Hungry Man meal. "Ramen has been my saving grace. I love to cook but I don't have the money or time with fixing up the house." You confess and groan as you put the steak into your mouth, the flavor hitting your tongue.

Joel frowns, not happy that you have been living off of instant noodles in order to keep your house from falling down around your ears. “Maybe we could work out a trade.” He offers with a grin. “I could do some remodeling in exchange for home cooked meals?”

You nod, scooping up some mashed potatoes, “I wouldn’t mind that trade.” You smile before you take your bite and you appreciate that Joel is wanting to help despite you being rude to him when you’ve been in his store. “So you used to be in construction?” You ask and Joel begins to tell you about how he worked with Tommy back in Austin. You watch him as he speaks, large hands almost too big for the cutlery and you find yourself more attracted to him. The annoyance at him mansplaining fades and you are glued to the spot listening to him.

“So this asshole is walking all over my construction site, poking around and I ask him what the fuck he thinks he’s doing.” Joel tells you. “I’ve already had the coils out of the AC and the water heater stolen, so I’m ready to beat this guy with a pipe wrench.” He rolls his eyes. “It’s the fucking inspector- two hours early.” He takes a sip of his beer. “I had to kiss a lot of ass to make sure that house got signed off on after scaring the shit out of him.”

Your eyes widen and you throw your head back to laugh at his story, “oh my God. I can just imagine you trying to kiss his ass.” You giggle and Joel grins, his fingers gripping the neck of the bottle as his chest shakes with his chuckle. The waitress comes over with the check and you have to admit you’re a little disappointed until you look around and see they are closing up the restaurant.

“Damn, we stayed longer than they expected us to.” Joel lays down the gift certificate and then reaches for his wallet. He knows that the certificate wasn’t for the entire bill, since you both ordered drinks and he doesn’t want you to feel obligated to contribute.

You reach for your purse but Joel shoots you a look that tells you not to argue. “Thank you.” You offer and he winks at you as he hands the cash to the waitress, “keep the change.” “Thanks Mr. Miller.” She beams, “it was nice to see you.” She walks off and you reach out to squeeze his hand, “thank you for dinner.”

“I had a good time.” He admits with a smile. You are charming when you aren’t defensive and the smile - a genuine smile - makes you stunning to look at. “Amazed by that fact, right?”

You snort, “if you had told me this morning that I’d be on a date with Joel Miller you could’ve knocked me over with a feather.” You confess and he chuckles. You stand up and his hand hovers against your back while you get your coats from the front. He takes your coat, much to your surprise, and helps you into it. His fingers brushing your neck as he adjusts your collar. He puts his coat on and you are soon in his truck after he opened the door for you, and he’s sliding in to yank on the heat. He drives you home with Christmas music playing and you are humming along until he pulls up outside your new home. “I really enjoyed tonight.” You murmur when neither of you make a move to open the doors.

“Oh shit.” Joel frowns for a moment. “We completely forgot about your car.” He laughs at himself and sighs. “I don’t want to drive you back to get it.” He admits with a grin.

You giggle, “me neither. I completely forgot about it. I can get it tomorrow. I’ll try and get a ride from someone.” You say and Joel shakes his head, “I can give you a ride to get it.” You smile at his offer, “then you’ll be driving home to come back here in the morning unless…” You trail off and shift a little closer to him, “unless you want to stay the night and warm me up.”

“You want me to stay?” He asks softly, wanting to confirm and when you bite your lip and nod he hums in agreement. “I’ll stay.”

You smile, stomach twisting and you reach up to cup his stubbled cheek, leaning in to softly kiss him. He is stiff under your touch and you sigh, leaning back from him, but he cups the back of your neck to drag your mouth back to his.

It’s been so long since he’s kissed someone, forgotten how good it feels to have a woman’s lips slotted against his own. Groaning, he takes control, angling your head with his as he deepens the kiss in the cab of his truck.

You never imagined that you'd be kissing Joel but right now, you moan into his mouth and tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging him closer while ‘Let It Snow’ plays on the radio.

He’s always loved having his hair pulled, growling into your mouth and pulling you closer for one last lick at your lips before he breaks away. “Fuck.” He hisses. “We need to go inside. It’s too cold to fuck you in the truck.”

You reluctantly pull away, scrambling to unlock the door of his truck and he doesn’t come around to open your door because you are already rushing to the front door, cautious of the ice and snow, and you fumble to unlock it with your key, sensing Joel coming up behind you after locking his truck.

“In a hurry, sweetheart?” He’s amused and flattered. Also fucking relieved because he’s already straining at the zipper of his best pair of jeans from just that kiss. Now that he’s been allowed to acknowledge the attraction he has for you, he’s pressing against your back as you try to slip the key into the hole. “Not eager, are you?” He rasps in your ear, breath close to your skin. “Don’t know how many times I imagined fucking you in one of the aisles of my store.”

You nearly drop your keys at his confession and he chuckles, the sound vibrating against your skin and you almost cry in relief when you get the front door open. “You’re a pain in my ass, Miller.” You retort, shrugging off your coat as he shuts the door behind him. His eyes meet yours, his brow furrowed in worry that he’s pissed you off and he should go but you surge forward to wrap your arms around his neck, dragging you down to kiss him. “Fuck me.” You demand, needing him like you need heat.

He starts to pull his own jacket off as he kisses you again. Already addicted to the taste of you and happy that there are fewer layers between you. He drags you towards a door frame, certain it leads to the stairs and breaks away to kiss down your neck. “It’s hot in here.” He teases as he nips your skin. “Maybe you should strip.”

You giggle, loving how he is now that you’ve gotten over your silly feud. You reach for the hem of your dress, pulling it over your head along with the shirt underneath, your boots abandoned by the door, and you leave your bra on as you fumble with the buttons of his shirt, needing to feel more of him under your palms

Joel lets you start to strip him, but he’s not passive. His hands slide down your hips to start grabbing your ass. “Fuck.” He hisses when he feels lace instead of something sturdy and warm. “You wear this for you, or were you hoping to get lucky with old man Jenkins?” He teases as he squeezes.

You moan at his squeeze, his calloused fingers digging into your flesh, “no. It’s - I need to do laundry. Washer is broken, so down to sexy ones.” You confess and push his shirt from his shoulders so he has to let go of you.

He chuckles, the sound filthy as he flicks open the buckle of his belt. “Naaaah.” He drawls. “It just means you’re a present.” He tells you. “One for me to unwrap. It’s almost Christmas, after all.”

You giggle and watch as he pushes down his jeans after unzipping his boots. He’s sexy in a gruff way and you love it. You moan when he pushes his pants down along with his boxers and his cock springs free.

He doesn’t mind the way you eye him. Like he’s a treat, some kind of special dessert. It’s been a long time since someone’s looked at him that way, Tess, and it makes him twitch as he reaches for your panties. “Am I gonna fuck you right here against your front door?”

You shake your head, wanting him in your bed, so you take his hand and guide him to the stairs that have a step that needs to be repaired. He grabs your waist, spinning you round and he drags you close to kiss you as you try to walk backwards up the stairs.

It’s passionate and a bit playful as you giggle because of how you stumble back. He holds you tighter, keeping you from falling as you both tumble up the stairs. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” He groans, sliding one hand up to cup your breast. “Don’t know how I fucking got so lucky tonight.”

You moan, pressing your lips to his and his tongue slides against yours as he hovers over you on the stairs. You feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh and you slide your hand down to squeeze him, loving how big he feels above you.

Joel has to stop himself from pressing you against the door and lifting your leg to push inside you. He wants you bad enough that he doesn’t care where, but you deserve better than that.

You finally make it to your room, kisses pressed against his lips until he pushes you down onto the bed. You can’t believe how the tables have turned but you are dripping for him. “God, Joel. Please.” You beg when he stands at the foot of the bed, reaching down to squeeze his cock in his fist. You scramble onto your knees, batting his hand away so you can take him into your mouth.

“Fuuuuuck.” He hisses, even as his eyes blow wide in surprise. He hadn’t expected you to suck his cock. “I can’t- fuck your mouth, baby.” He groans, reaching down and caressing your cheek. “You can’t do that for long.” He confesses. “Or this will be over way too soon.”

You moan around him in protest but understand, pulling off his cock and you look up at him. His hand caresses your cheek again until he pushes two fingers into your mouth. You suck on them and he groans, cock twitching until he’s pulling them from your mouth and grabbing your arms to push you back onto the bed as he kneels on the end.

“Do I need-“ Joel doesn’t have a condom, but he would stop and go get some but you cut him off. “It’s safe.” You promise breathlessly. “I’m clean.” He nods and groans at the thought of feeling you around him without a barrier. “I am too, baby.” He promises as he shuffles between your thighs and spreads them wide. He hovers over you on one arm as he notches himself at your entrance and starts to push into you slowly as he kisses you.

He stretches you but you don’t say anything as you enjoy a little pinch of pain with the pleasure. You moan into his mouth, caressing his shoulder as he settles deep inside you. “Fuck.” You pant against his lips, “you feel incredible.”

He hums, although he is feeling that way about you. You are tight and hot around his cock, like a velvet glove. “So good, baby.” He Praises softly. “You feel so fuckin’ good around me. Just like I knew you would.”

He shifts back a little and you watch him as he starts to move inside you. Your hands slide up to squeeze your tits and you love how his jaw is clenched almost like he’s already on edge. “Never thought you’d be fucking me tonight.” You confess, “but now I’m so glad you are.”

He grunts in agreement, sure that you wouldn’t even agree to the charity auction date, let alone letting him slide between your thighs. He twitches inside you and shuttles his hips forward. “Me too.” He huffs. “Wouldn’t want to have someone else fucking you.” He would be jealous as hell.

You caress his chest, loving how his heart thumps under your palm. “Could’ve been old man Jenkins.” You tease and he groans, “don’t. You want me to stay hard?” He asks and you giggle, clenching around him. He thrusts harder and you gasp, tilting your head back and moaning when his lips find your skin.

It’s intoxicating. He’s tasting your skin as he rocks into you. Pushing both of you closer to the edge every time the ridges of his cock scrape against the sensitive walls of your pussy and makes you clench around him. “Gonna cum for me baby?” He grunts out. “Yeah. You’re gonna soak me, ain’t cha?”

You cling to him as he rocks into you, nodding as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. “Yes baby. Shit. You’re gonna make me - oh Joel.” You pant as you clamp down on his cock, back arching under him as your nails bite into his skin.

He feels the moment that you start to shake apart. The way your body stiffens and your walls clamp down around him. Making him grit his teeth as he bites off a curse, thrusting harder to fuck you through it. “Fuck, baby, that’s it. Cum for me.” He groans.

Your cry is choked as you soak his cock that feels like it's in your throat. He looms above you and you love that. Your nails dragging down his back until you are squeezing his ass. "Need you to cum for me, baby." You whine, "wanna feel it." You beg, "fill me up."

“Fuck.” Even though his back is aching and he wants to slow down, he can’t. He’s too close. His hips snap forward again and again until he is pushed so deep he doesn’t know where huh begin and he ends. Growling out your name as he stiffens, cock throbbing as he paints your walls with hot ropes of his cum.

You pant as he fills you up, rocking his hips as he works himself through it, and you sigh, closing your eyes. The feud you had with him is gone and you are certain that you could fall for him. “Joel.” You murmur, caressing his back until you cup his neck, dragging him down to kiss him.

He hums against your lips, collapsing into your arms because you obviously want his weight on you. He doesn’t mind, completely relaxed and blissed out as he slowly kisses you. “That was fucking amazing.”

You hum in agreement, smiling against his lips, and you are happy to have him pressing you into the mattress while he softens inside you. “I want to do that again.” You murmur and he chuckles against your chin, “not eighteen anymore baby. Gonna need some time.” You giggle, “I mean later. Not right now.” You promise and he pulls out of you, flopping down beside you until he drags you into his side. You rest your head on his shoulder and caress his chest, “I want to see where this goes.”

“It’ll go wherever you want it to, sweetheart.” He promises. “I’m not easy to fucking get along with, but I’m loyal.” He chuckles softly. “If you can put up with my shit, you never have to worry about a goddamn thing.”

You nod, kissing his chest as you appreciate his honesty. "Hopefully we are over the worst between us. Besides, you know I can give as good as I get." Joel snorts at that and stretches his legs. "I need to clean up." You murmur, feeling his cum dripping from you and you shift away from him but he grabs you, bringing you back to the bed. "Let me clean up my mess." He smirks and your eyes widen as you spread your legs so he can see the mess he left between your thighs.

Joel has never had any problem with oral after sex, although you seem surprised when he lowers his shoulders and slides down to press between them. Settling down as he wedges himself happily in to inspect his work. “That’s a pretty sight, baby.” He smirks as he massages your inner thighs.

You moan at the dark look in his eyes as he leans closer and he slides his tongue through your folds. Your fingers run through his salt and pepper hair and you whimper when he flicks the tip of his tongue over your clit. “Fuck baby.” You whisper, watching him with fascination.

He chuckles, his dark eyes fixed on you as he starts to slowly taste the combination of your fluids. Groaning at how responsive you are and how your hips roll up to meet his mouth when he pulls back.

“Joel.” You whine and he chuckles, hot breath puffing over your wet cunt, and he slides his tongue again, quick laps that have your chest heaving. You tug on his hair and he groans into your flesh, cleaning you with sloppy swipes of his tongue into your pussy.

He loves the way you pull his hair, demanding more as he devours you. He’s still not hard, but you are moaning his name like he’s some kind of sex god, making his softened cock twitch in interest. Fingers digging into your hips to hold you in place.

You pant as he works you up with sucks and swipes of his tongue. Your free hand squeezing your own breast and you whine as he pushes you higher and higher until finally, you fall apart for him again. “Joel!” Your cry echoes in the bedroom and your thighs squeeze his head.

You press his head harshly and he loves it. Groaning into your flesh as he works you through it with slow swipes of his tongue, enjoying the way you jump and shiver.

You caress his head as you relax, lowering your thighs and you sigh in bliss, feeling warm throughout your entire body. “Come here.” You order and drag him up your body so you can kiss him. He kisses you, the taste of your fluids on his lips but you don’t care as your tongue slides against his. He pecks your lips, nudging his nose against yours as you caress his back.

He shuffles to the side, pulling you against him. “Warm enough?” He asks with a soft chuckle. You hum sleepily, curling up on his chest in a move that makes his heart thump. “I am.” You murmur softly, closing your eyes. “Stay.” You beg, making him tighten his hold on you. “I’m staying, baby.” He promises, holding you as you drift off to sleep. 

Joel doesn’t sleep much. So when he wakes up, he carefully slips out of the bed and gathers up his clothes to get dressed. You are still dead to the world, sleeping peacefully and he smiles at the vision before heading downstairs to see what he needs to do.

You wake up, your body aching a little but you love it. You look over and see the spot where Joel was is empty. Your smile falls and you sigh, wondering if he skipped out on you. You get up and head into the bathroom to clean up, desperate for coffee so you make your way downstairs after wrapping yourself in your fluffy robe. That's when you see him in your kitchen, under the sink, stomach on display as he stretches to fix something. "Joel. You're here." You declare in surprise and he shifts from under the sink. "Of course. I don't sleep a lot so figured I'd let you get your sleep and I'd see what needed fixin' around here. Your sink was leaking." He says, holding the wrench, and your heart thumps. "Thank you." You didn't know a leak had started under there. "Made eggs and coffee. Only two things I can make." He says and you giggle, shifting to kneel beside him so you can lean in to softly kiss him. "Thank you." You murmur again, "for everything."

“You’re welcome.” He grunts, accepting the kiss, but uncomfortable with the praise. He’s not doing it for you to be thankful, but because you need the help and he can. “Go get you some coffee and eat.” He had noticed how little you had in your fridge and had decided later on he would go get some groceries. “Got a cord of wood being delivered in about an hour.” He tells you. “Gonna have it stacked right next to the back door, but I gotta go to the store to get some tin to put that roof back right.” He tells you before diving back under the sink. “Wanna ride with me and get your car then?”

You shift off the floor to grab yourself a cup of coffee and watch as he works on fixing your sink. His muscles flexing and you are distracted until he asks again. “Yes. That’s good. Thank you.” You say and he snorts, “stop sayin’ thanks. I wanna do it.” He promises and you nod, taking a sip of your coffee. “I have other ways I can thank you anyway.” You smirk and set your coffee down, waiting until he’s done to straddle him. “What you doin’?” He chuckles and you bend down to kiss him, making him groan into your mouth.

Joel chuckles softly, but he doesn’t stop you. Blindly setting down the wrench to grab your waist. “You ready for round two right here on the kitchen floor?” He asks when you start to kiss down his neck. “Don’t mind, but you’re gonna have to ride baby, or this floor will kill my knees.”

You grind down onto him, “fuck. I can do that.” You promise, shifting back to work on his belt. “You look so sexy fixing my sink.” You murmur and he twitches under the denim he’s wearing. “If this is what gets you going, I’ll fix anything you like, sugar.”

**** 

“Are you coming over to the house tonight?” Joel asks as he turns the last quarter turn of the wrench and leans back to grin. “There we go. A bathtub, newly fixed.” It still needs to be taken out and refinished, but that shit can wait until it’s warm outside. You hadn’t been able to take a bath and soak since the drain was leaking and the water heater needed replacing. Your new water heater was hooked up yesterday and Joel just finished fixing the drain so it will work properly. “Sarah’s gonna be here at six.”

You bite your lip as you look down at him, “are you sure you want me to meet her? We’ve been dating a few weeks.” You say and he nods, “trust me, baby. She will be happy her old dad has found someone who will put up with his grumpy ass.” You giggle and nod, caressing his cheek, “I’ll come over.”

“Good.” He winks at you. “She wants to drink boozy eggnog and listen to Christmas carols as we decorate the tree.” He tells you. He’s got a tree but he told you he couldn’t decorate it without Sarah. It was a tradition, and now he wants to include you in that tradition. “And eat Chinese.”

You grin, “that sounds incredible. Are you sure you want me there?” You ask, grin faltering a little and he nods, “absolutely.” Your grin returns and you lean down to kiss him. “Now, you wanna try out the tub?” You smirk and he chuckles, “insatiable.” 

**** 

You are nervous as you walk to Joel’s front door, ringing the doorbell as you prepare to meet his daughter. She’s everything to him and you love that about him. You’ve fallen for him in the past few weeks and you are praying his daughter likes you.

“Daaaaaaad!” A woman, probably twenty-five, with gorgeous skin and frizzy ringlets of hair, lights up when she sees you. A grin curving her lips. “A beautiful woman that is waaaaaaaay out of your league just walked through the door!” She calls out, cackling as Joel huffs from the kitchen. “Be nice!”

You giggle and she pulls you into a hug, “I’m Sarah and I’ve heard so much about you. My dad isn’t much of a talker but he’s not stopped telling me about his new girlfriend.” She smirks and Joel makes his way from the kitchen. You hope she approves and she squeezes your arms, “I’m so happy he’s found someone to deal with his grumpiness.” She says and you chuckle, “it’s a challenge sometimes.”

Joel snorts and rolls his eyes. “This grumpy ass does plenty of wonderfully nice things.” He defends himself, crossing his arms over his chest. “Don’t I build you a fire every night so you can drink your wine and feel cozy?”

You grin and lean in to softly kiss him, “you’ve definitely been my hero.” You reassure him, nudging your nose against his jaw and Sarah beams, happy to see her dad so happy after Tess. “Come in. I have mulled wine ready to go and we are set to decorate the tree.” She takes your coat and you set your purse down on the side before she drags you into the living room to begin decorating.

Every year during this time, Joel watches his daughter in awe. Reflecting on the wonderful woman that she has become. The path that she has taken to get where she is. Laughing and talking with you, she is showing you all the special family Christmas decorations that he had dragged down from the attic this morning in anticipation of this moment. Now, you are added into the mix by complete chance and he couldn’t be happier.

The tree is soon decorated, Chinese food consumed and Sarah excuses herself to her room leaving you and Joel by the fire, your head resting on his shoulder. “I’m really happy you bid on me in the auction.” You murmur and he smiles, tilting your head to press a soft kiss to your lips. “Me too. I, uh, I love you.” He confesses and your eyes widen, a grin on your face, and you lean in to kiss him again. “I love you too.” He smiles and drags you into his lap, deciding to show you just how much he loves you. 

**** 

“He bid how much?” Sarah exclaims, asking her uncle who grins and repeats himself, “$1000 to have a date with the woman who was, and I quote, ‘a pain in my ass’.’” Sarah giggles, “must’ve had a crush on that pain in the ass, right Dad?” She asks and Joel snorts, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as you all sit around the table after dessert has been eaten over at Tommy and Maria’s house. “She caught my eye. Mainly because she couldn’t DIY for shit.” He teases and you slap his chest, “I can figure it out.” You say and Joel raises his eyebrows playfully. You scoff and he chuckles, leaning closer to press a soft kiss to your lips, “worth every damn penny.” He promises and you grin, caressing his cheek, “love you too.” Maria looks over at Tommy with a smirk. Her master plan had worked. Joel had gotten what he never knew he wanted for Christmas: you.

​​

[hyunsvngs]

𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚, 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 - han jisung x fem!reader

wc: 2.4k

a/n: pwp based off of two images i saw of jisung's boobs in concert and then i went haywire and wrote THIS... MERRY CHRISTMAS !!! 🎄🎅 please read the warnings! 18+ SMUT MDNI!!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: ROLEPLAY where jisung is santa for no particular reason, nipple play (m rec), oral (m rec), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie (i’m having a white christmas!), dirty talk, overall kind of not extreme but maybe a bit of d/s dynamics (both switchy)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

you don’t know what game you’re playing tonight.

jisung’s due back home any minute now. he’s been gone a few hours, last minute christmas shopping with friends, and he claimed he had a surprise for you. you asked to go with, claiming you needed to get a few things too, but jisung had simply told you he had a plan. it’s unusual behaviour for him, but he’s always doing sweet things for you - this could just be another one of those times.

still, you’re bent underneath the tree placing presents in nothing but your nightie and some fuzzy socks. you’ve had to light the fireplace to warm yourself up, but jisung always likes it when it’s cozy anyway. you expect that he’ll arrive home tired, but wanting, from the infrequent texts he’d sent you about missing you. there’s nothing you like more than snuggling with your favourite person on your favourite holiday, even if he does get a little too warm too quickly and ends up being more of a human radiator than anything else. 

once you’ve finally found places for all of the gifts, you’re able to wriggle yourself outwards. with the multicoloured lights on and the fireplace lit, along with your many other trinkets… well, it may look like christmas has exploded in your living room. still, you’ve always loved christmas. you adjust a little santa ornament on your fireplace and allow yourself to lay on the couch, pulling a thick blanket over your body. it’s comfortable.

unfortunately it may be a little too comfortable. you appear to have dropped off, because when you wake up it’s a little darker outside. you hear the click of the lock, the sound of the door swinging open and heavy boots stomping in. you sit up, drowsy with sleep but ready to greet your boyfriend. 

a few hums are heard from the door, soft and melodic, and you smile. it’s nice. you push yourself up, padding over to the front door, and- oh. 

santa’s here.

sure, he looks a little different. under the fluffy white beard and velvet red costume you can catch glimpses of him. a snippet of black ink across honey toned skin when he moves, the sight of his chain dangling beneath the fabric - it’s him, your santa claus, you know it, and suddenly it all makes sense.

“santa!” you grin, walking over to wrap your arms around his middle. he lets out a small ‘ooph’, pretending he’s winded, but two toned arms wrap around your frame right back. “you’re here! early, too.”

“i had to be early for my favourite girl,” you feel the rumble of his chest when he speaks against your ear, and you nuzzle the fabric of his suit. over the time you’ve known your santa, you’ve learned he can be a little sleazy - you’re pretty sure he’s making his voice deeper on purpose, and his fingertips are already tugging up on your nightie to check if you have panties on. it doesn’t surprise you. “why don’t we go take a seat?”

you’re guided back over to your sleeping spot with a firm palm on your back, and you realise he’s got his gloves on too, black faux leather that you can feel even through your nightie. you stumble a little and santa catches you, using the position to sit down and pull you down with him.

one of those sinful gloved hands come up to push your hair out of your face. it feels a little fucked up you’re getting aroused over this, over fucking around with someone who isn’t really your boyfriend, but he meets your gaze with his own. the look in his eyes lets you know that it’s all intentional. “have you been nice this year, baby?”

“i’ve been so nice this year, santa,” you wiggle onto his lap, legs splaying over the side. you receive a gummy smile in return and the feeling of his hand moving up your thigh. it’s sleazy, and you’re slicking up already. it smears against your thighs. “don’t you remember? just last week, i fingered your asshole until-“

“al-right,” he stammers. “doing naughty things isn’t very nice, y’know?! it’s actually the polar opposite. hah, polar.”

his facade is cracking, and you giggle, letting your hands run over his chest. you can feel the muscles beneath his suit. “i thought it was nice, santa. you seemed to like it. a lot, actually, if the noises were telling at all.”

“u-um, you’re not- this isn’t how this is meant to go,” his eyes are wide and ever so brown, the multicoloured lights bouncing off of them. he looks so earnest, almost innocent - if you’re pretending you can’t feel his cock hardening underneath your ass. “i’m meant to- you’re- baby.”

you’re already moving, swinging your legs back over to kneel on the floor in front of him. despite his protesting, he’s letting you, always pliant. his arms fall to his sides and his knees kick apart. his boots make a heavy thud on the wooden floor, the same platform boots you thought he’d retired years ago, and you want to ask him about them but he’s moving your hands to his cock. 

while your santa is pliant, you are too, and you give in.

you pull his trousers down, letting the waistband snap just underneath his balls. the pressure pushes his cock upright for you, hard and plump and leaky, and you engulf it with your mouth without a further thought.

“this is why y-you’re my favourite,” he gasps shakily, thighs spreading further. with a flick of his hand, the red velvet jacket falls open, and you’re met with the tattooed honey skin you’ve been craving all along. he’s built, chest plump enough to make your mouth water, and he rubs his thumb over his nipple while you suckle on his cockhead. “that’s it, my sweet baby. suck santa’s cock, just like that.”

your jaw aches already, head reeling from how fast everything is going. you pull off with a wet pop, and with your spare hand you stroke the shaft erratically, your spit acting as lubricant. it’s all too wet for him and his hips buck upwards into your grip. a sharp whine leaves his lips, preceding the heavy breaths that he lets out. 

you can’t help but let your other hand move down to his balls, running over the taut skin there. his thighs shake, and you pump harder, squeezing deliberately to watch how precum forms on the head.

“come and kiss me,” he orders, pushing your hand away to replace it with his own. he looks the image of debauched, cockhead ruddy red and sensitive, and he pulls you upwards impatiently to his mouth. you’re laying over him like this, tits pressed against his through your nightie, and he finally leans up to press his lips against yours. immediately, the kiss is filthy, his tongue pressing into your mouth with the deep moans and muffled noises he lets out at the feeling of his own grip. 

it’s not long before he’s pushing the same gloved hand past your nightie again, wet from your spit and his precum, finding that you definitely are not wearing panties. he moans into your mouth again, digits finding where you’re wet and aching for him. his lips clack against yours messily as he pushes two fingers inside of you - it’s just a precaution, not meant to be anything more than a quick stretch. still, when your fingers scrabble for purchase on his chest and your nails dig into the plump flesh, he finally pulls away from the kiss and sinks a third finger inside of you. the faux leather is warm from his natural body heat, and you gasp, hips grinding into his palm rhythmically. 

“f-fuck, that’s- you’re stretching my pussy out so good, santa,” you keen, keeping your words filthy because you know how he likes it. as you expected, he groans, head tossing back against the sofa and causing his hat to slide onto one side. his cock aches, pressing against your thigh. you can’t help but rub against it just to be cheeky, and his thumb comes to your clit as a punishment. “o-oh! oh, santa, please, will you give- give me more? i want your cock, please!”

“yeah, of course, my baby, of course, just- get this off? get it off,” he’s impatient, gripping at your nightie and pulling it each and every way until you finally sit back and yank it off of your body. instead of wasting any time, your santa is shifting forward, letting his fingers slip from your soaked hole. 

he slides inside at the same time his pouty lips envelop your nipple. he’s always been engrossed with your chest, just as much as you are with his. while he’s letting you adjust, his hands move to your ass and squeeze the flesh, eyes fluttering shut as if he’s sated just being inside of you - you know him better than that, though. once you’ve readjusted the red hat on his head, you start to move your hips.

“oh, that’s it,” it’s muffled against your chest, but you hear it, along with the deep groan that leaves his chest. he tries to remain in control, hips moving against yours. “this fuckin’ pussy. been needin’ it all day, baby, you don’t even know.”

“that’s why you came early, santa, right?” you say shakily. the trimmed hairs at the base of his cock rub against your clit in a way that has your eyes watering, and you quicken the pace, pussy clenching down on his shaft. “needed your baby’s pussy too bad. it’s here now, santa, why don’t you just take it?” 

“fffuck,” he leans back on his forearms, nodding, eyes scrunched shut. you can tell he wants to take, to force your pussy to take his thick cock, but the feeling of it all is too pleasurable to think. he’s always been a bit too sensitive. you can tell it’s not going to be a long one already, and your hand snakes down to rub fast circles on your clit. “ah, it’s so- it’s so wet, baby, so wet around my cock.”

you moan, moving like a woman possessed, hips rutting into a fast bounce that has him pistoning in and out of you. it’s then that he takes a little more control, grip moving back to your ass to bounce you on top of him. his cock hits deeper like this when he’s pulling you back and forth, and your toes curl in your socks, nose scrunching at the wet sounds reverberating throughout the room. it really is so wet, and you only have your santa to blame.

your hand slaps over your clit just after he opens his eyes, and they narrow, fixating on your pussy. his chest is heaving, and then in a split move, he’s pushing you down flat onto the sofa.

“keep rubbing it, keep- keep going, i need to cum,” he babbles, shaking his head. he’s out of it, and both gloved hands pin your hips down so he can take it from you. his hips move erratically, balls slapping against your skin, and with one hand you do exactly as he said, rubbing the little bundle of nerves until you’re wailing into his neck. the other hand splays against his stomach, almost as if you’re pushing him back, but he’s too strong for that. “it’s- me, now baby, talk to me. talk to hannie, my baby, c’mon.”

“h-hannie,” you hiccup, tears biting at your eyes. “‘s so good, jisungie, baby. i think i’m gonna cum.”

“yeah? why don’t you cum for me?” jisung questions. the white pom pom of his hat swings in front of his eyes, but jisung’s fed up by now, ripping the fabric from his head and tossing it to the side. it’s nice to see him properly, his face unobscured by taunting red fabric, and he gives you a gummy smile.

the sincerity of him, your boyfriend, your one true love is ultimately what does you in. your gummy walls clench around him, finally letting go, and your fingers slide messily across your clit until you’re finished crying through your orgasm. jisung isn’t far behind, and his lips come to kiss your forehead as he holds you close and pumps you full of his cum.

unceremoniously, jisung collapses with another ‘ooph’, sweaty chest pressing against yours. you know it’s intense for him to cum so quickly, and you run your nails up his back underneath the jacket to soothe him. he hums and wiggles his hips around in glee, as if he’s not still inside of you.

“so,” you yawn, letting your nails run down to scratch over his ass. jisung’s hips buck into you this time. “where did the santa idea come from?”

jisung leans back and rubs your nose with his, giggling. “no idea. it wasn’t even the original plan.”

“it wasn’t?” you gasp, attempting to sit up. “then what was it?”

“what was what?” jisung furrows his eyebrows. you groan.

“what was the original plan, jisungie?”

“oh, that!” he slides out of you, and you try not to giggle at the way he surges off of the sofa with his dick still out. “i’ll show you, just wait there!”

you really do giggle when he runs out of the door, tripping over his trouser legs. you think he’s going to return with the surprise, but then he pokes his head round the door, that same wide grin on his face. 

“merry christmas by the way, my baby. i love you.”

[demonic0angel]

Christmas + Gotham City Spirits

Bruce sipped at his coffee, reading through the recent reports of a case a few days ago. The coffee blend was faintly peppermint-flavored because due to the holiday season, Stephanie had replaced everything in the coffee making station with Christmas themed items.

It tasted good, so no one complained too much.

The chatter in the cave was calming, a distant lull with the sound of his loved ones’ voices. None of them had gone on patrol yet, although they were all dressed in their vigilante suits. Dick and Jason were arguing over the movie they wanted to watch on their semi-weekly Movie Nights, and Cass and Steph were egging them on. Tim and Damian were gone, having left using the Batmobile to pick up something.

They would be back any minute now—

Tim and Damian drove into the Batcave in that moment, and although their parking was gentle, they both flew out of the car like it was on fire. Damian was holding an ice cream cup, despite it being the only a day from Christmas, while Tim was holding a milkshake.

Bruce looked back down at the reports, unconcerned after seeing no blood, limping, or drugs.

“The Batmobile is haunted!” screamed Tim, and Bruce paused in reading his papers. He looked up again and watched as the others approached, confused murmurs and questions filling the air.

“Huh?? What happened?!”

Tim and Damian were trying to explain the events that led up to this moment. Damian was standing next to Tim, who was ranting up and down about what happened.

“Okay, so I was taking Damian for ice cream,” cue some coos from Dick and Steph, with Bruce mentally joining in, “when we were arguing in the car. I hadn’t realized that I had taken my eyes off of the steering wheel until Damian pointed it out. The car was driving on its own! And the autopilot wasn’t turned on!”

Bruce resisted the urge to smack his forehead.

Of course this was how they were discovered. He could almost sense the awkward guilt coming off of the Batmobile from the distance where it was parked in the cave.

“So… you think it’s ghosts?” Steph asked, raising an eyebrow.

Tim and Damian shared a look and then nodded.

“Ghosts?” Jason snorted. “Are you kidding? I bet you’re seeing things.”

“It was real, Todd! Just because you’re brain damaged doesn’t mean the rest of us are—“

Dick interrupted him, “Well, I mean Deadman and Gentleman Ghost exist. Who’s to say that the Batmobile isn’t haunted?”

Jason opened his mouth to argue some more, but Tim spoke up then. “Bruce? You don’t seem surprised.”

Bruce paused on taking a sip of his coffee. All of his children turned to stare at him.

It was Cass who said, “He knows something.”

More than just knew.

Bruce had met and befriended the ghost that haunted the Batmobile. And the Batcomputer. And the gargoyles in Gotham. And the parks. And Arkham Asylum. And Crime Alley. And Blüdhaven. And Gotham City itself.

The point was… Bruce had more than just knowledge on the ghosts haunting the things around him.

————

It had first begun when Batman had started appearing within the city. He had just started working as a vigilante for a few months when one day, he had noticed odd circumstances happening around him.

It happened sporadically, almost randomly enough that he hadn’t gotten suspicious for awhile, but when a pattern was beginning to form, he began to notice.

Whenever he could’ve sworn his hook wouldn’t attach properly to the building, it seemed as though something moved and made it fit perfectly, allowing him to swing to his destination. Whenever he thought that he had lost a criminal, a new alleyway that he wouldn’t be able to recognize would pop up and allow him to block the runaway’s path. Whenever he felt like his computer wouldn’t be able to calculate something or find new information, it would miraculously give him data that he knew for sure that a mere computer could not find.

The most prominent evidence was with the Batmobile. At times, it would speed up on its own, even when he was extremely controlled in how he used the brakes and gas. At others, it would have minuscule but noticeable changes such as adjustments to seating and temperature inside of the car. At one point, Bruce distinctly remembered the car turning and sliding unnaturally past danger, which helped him avoid crashing into a narrow street’s wall when he was dodging gunfire. It had been strange because he was sure that he was going to scrape the car against the wall, but it never happened.

Bruce had personally worked on it with Alfred’s help, so any signs of tampering were impossible. There was no explanation for it, no matter how much Bruce dismantled the car and remade it over and over again.

Even Alfred had that strange look in his eyes now, as if wondering if Bruce had delusions from one too many concussions.

Bruce scoured his library for information, looked up anything on the internet, and even asked informants and help from the few contacts that he knew.

They had a few answers, but none of them made a lot of sense.

In the end, Bruce decided to just confront the problem head-on.

On a lonely summer night, Bruce entered his car and sat in the driving seat, breathing out slowly. Usually, the car did not act out everyday, but today, Bruce had been driving in order to dodge the police that wanted to capture him, and he had seen how the car moved without his turning of the wheel to drive past sharp corners. This had earned him a few precious minutes necessary to throw the police off his trail and allow him to get away.

All this told him was that the car was of help to him, but nothing else.

He started the car, allowing the familiar rumble of his car warm him up. He allowed the Batmobile to run as he thought of what to say.

When he formalized his speech, Bruce cleared his throat and stared at the inside of his car, sleek and polished all over.

“I-I’ve been noticing a few things lately. Strange things happening. I think that you’ve been helping me. I’m… thankful. Thank you for helping me away from the cops today. I appreciate it.”

His voice reverberated inside of the empty car.

“However, I want to meet you. If you’re there. Are you… sentient?” He asked.

The car did not speak.

Well, of course, it couldn’t speak.

He flushed with humiliation as he mentally berated himself. Was he so paranoid, so tired that he was now believing that a car could respond back to him? No wonder Alfred was thinking he was insane.

But in the next moment, he ate his thoughts as the car gave an answering rumble without him revving the car or doing anything.

Bruce stared. Then he said, “Make something move if that was real.”

Another moment of silence. Then there was a click and the windshield wipers began to turn on, swiping across the glass.

Bruce’s breath caught.

“You’re sentient!” He cried, unable to believe it. The air around him began to chill and he watched as the temperature of the air conditioner dropped rapidly until it was low, making his breath come out in vapor. He shivered and looked around frantically.

“Yes,” a soft voice said, “I am.”

Bruce turned to the side, where the voice appeared. A small girl, who looked barely even five, stared at him with wide eyes through a domino mask and a suit that wasn't unlike his. She was tiny, with a black ponytail behind her head and a cape attached to her neck.

He stared and watched as the fabric on her body sparkled with a metallic sheen and her hair flowed in a nonexistent breeze within the enclosed car.

"Are you... a ghost or something?"

The girl smiled. "Kinda." She kicked her feet and giggled. "I'm the spirit that haunts this car. But if you had a plane or a boat, I could haunt those too." She paused and then eagerly asked, "Could you get one? I think it'd be really cool!"

Bruce couldn’t help but smile. “I… I’ll try. What are you, exactly? Can you tell me more about yourself? What are you here for?”

Perhaps he could’ve asked more questions. Maybe he should’ve asked whether or not she was good. She was an unknown variable in his long-term plans, but he couldn’t muster up the animosity needed to interrogate her, not while she looked at him and like him in similar clothes and a smaller form.

���I’m a ghost, and my haunt is your vehicle,” she replied blithely. “I was brought here because my family is also here. They’re also ghosts, and there’s a lot of them around. I think all of my siblings are awake, and so are our friends. A few are still asleep, I think… but I promise we mean no harm. We’re supposed to protect life, as beings who have already crossed to the other side and made a deal with Lady Gotham and Lady Blüdhaven.”

Bruce stared at the ghost in his passenger seat.

“Pardon?”

She explained in more detail. Several centuries ago, Gotham City and Blüdhaven were the haunts of two powerful sister spirits who protected the city and powered it via the emotions of their citizens and their own strength. However, something had befallen them, and they had asked for help from the Ghost King. He had agreed to take over for them, and in one final sacrifice, both city spirits had died and then tied their cities to the Ghost King and his family, who he had asked to assist him.

They all separated and formed their own haunts via some time shenanigans that she would not elaborate on. And thus, several ghosts haunted both cities. There was supposedly one city spirit in Blüdhaven, since it was a much smaller city, and over six in Gotham.

She, ‘Dani’ as she called herself, was one of them.

“We’re usually asleep and we don’t really have awareness or sentience like a normal person most of the time. So it’s difficult for us to age too.” She yawned at this moment. “I’m a weaker spirit, so I have a really small haunt. My big brothers all have a city to themselves, but the rest of us get smaller stuff.”

Bruce asked, “Are you tired?”

She rubbed at the mask that covered her eyes irritably before nodding with another yawn. “I’ll try to come back,” she said, “but I’m usually not “out” like this, so it’s tiring. But the more you take care of me and Gotham, the stronger I’ll get, like my siblings.”

A hand seemed to clench at Bruce’s heart.

More people to depend on him. Another cause to be stronger, faster, and smarter. Further reasons for him to be better, so he could help his city.

“Oh.”

She smiled at him, and it brought a little warmth back into the chill surrounding him. “But I’ll help you. No matter what, we spirits are on your side, Batman.”

Bruce returned the smile. “Thank you.”

It was almost unbelievable, but the amount of details in her explanation proved her right and the way she explained things made sense. No wonder he had so much success as Batman. No wonder it felt like he could run forever on Gotham’s streets and catch criminals all night. No wonder it felt like the city called for him like a beacon, even without the Bat-Signal.

She nodded and in the next blink, she was gone. The temperature increased back to normal. The car was silent and so was Bruce, as he sat in the plush, leather seats and thought to himself. In the end, there was nothing else to do but harden his resolve to do better and help Gotham City.

He met her a few more times, and they officially formed a team, where she would help accelerate the speed of whatever vehicle he was using to get to fight crime and help victims quicker. In return, he would care of the vehicles and allowed her to do what she needed to do without interference.

As time passed, Bruce met the rest of the city spirits.

There was one in Crime Alley, sweet and tall for the age that she looked and laden with bloody pearls that made him avoid looking at her, who was kind and clever. She told him that she had awakened when his parents died, but her gentle condolences did not infuriate him like others did. ‘Jazz’ was her name, and she told him that she would watch over the children in her domain.

He traveled through Gotham City knowing that she would take care of Crime Alley whenever he couldn’t muster up the strength to enter.

There was one in the parks of Gotham, thin and oddly goth, who was stubborn and cool and extremely opinionated. She was even younger than the spirit in Crime Alley, and had a lot of opinions on garden care and vegetarianism. ‘Sam’, she wanted to be called, and she told him not to call her Samantha or she’d make him trip over roots.

He spent money on maintaining the parks in Gotham, and Alfred noted how his own personal gardens in Wayne Manor never seemed to die or wilt.

There was a growing spirit in the computers of the Batcave, gangly and quick-witted and mischievous, who was the same age as the park spirit and grew slowly with advancing technology and only appeared when Bruce was in a rush or desperate. He was named ‘Tucker’, and he liked helping, but only when it was interesting or when he was really needed.

Bruce carefully developed new software and installed better tech every opportunity he could, and the Batcomputer never failed him.

There was another in Arkham Asylum, stern and strong-looking, who was confident and hot-tempered and the same age as the Batcave spirit. She was brave and strong-willed, hating the more murderous patients of the asylum, but had all of the forgiveness and patience needed for the more misguided ones. Her name was ‘Valerie’, and she promised to hold back as many escapees as she could.

He captured runaway patients for her and visited her personally to thank her every time he heard of a failed escape attempt.

There was also a spirit that haunted the gargoyles of Gotham, wily and observant, who traveled from each stone statue for information. He liked investigating things, but hated injustice and lies, and he promised to help Bruce whenever he could find the strength to manifest. ‘Call me Wes’, he had said, before launching into a rant about how annoying the Gotham City spirit was.

They would occasionally exchange information every now and then, with Wes offering blackmail and details for every case he needed.

Bruce had only met the spirit of Blüdhaven once. He was aggressive and murderous, but when Batman had visited the second time for a case, he recognized all of the signs of a spirit’s protection, even though he also attempted to throw him off a few buildings. The Blüdhaven City spirit was hateful but not unreasonable, and although Bruce was encouraged by the other siblings, he decided to just leave the city alone because this ‘Dan’ did not like leaving his domain.

Bruce largely did not bother him. In the future, he would make more frequent trips and bring news of the spirits in Gotham. At least falling beams didn’t drop on him anymore.

He had already met Dani, who haunted the vehicles inside of the Batcave. She loved driving and flying and racing through any part of Gotham. When needed, she could transport herself into any and all vehicles owned by Bruce and his associates, and then power it to be even faster through the strength given to her by Gotham City and the determination of the driver. She was small in size but big in personality, and her carefree, fun-loving personality gave him much relief whenever he needed her as he traveled to wherever needed him most.

He took care of all of his vehicles and crafts, and she pushed him to help quicker.

And lastly, the most impressive and unimpressive spirit of all was the spirit of Gotham. He was a small thing, slender and unassuming, dressed in ragged clothes in his human form with the sharp, haunted eyes of a child from Crime Alley. His name was ‘Danny’, and although he seemed unnoticeable at first, he was noble and kind. When he wasn’t dressed in the starry veil of his spirit form, he was out and about on the streets, helping others as a homeless kid. He helped the forgotten, the downtrodden, the poor, and sick as best as he could.

Unlike his siblings and friends, who were weak and could not be out as a human for long, Danny was not the same. Looking like a small pre-teen, he helped his citizens as much as he could by offering shelter, an extra hand, some random change, and a careful warning.

He supported Bruce in any way that he could, and Bruce wanted nothing more than to make him proud by helping the city.

Time passed.

The spirits, having now awakened with Batman’s debut, began to grow up.

Bruce did not allow himself to be left behind. He grew and learned and trained and did better for his city. The spirits did not appear often, but whenever they were truly needed, they never let him down.

Only a few years into being Batman, he adopted Dick Grayson.

When Dick became Robin, he had been worried about the reaction of the spirits, but they had not appeared angry and even seemed approving, with the way they protected Dick more than Bruce.

He could’ve felt jealous, but really, it was just cute. With how old Dick was and how some of the spirits looked, they could’ve been the same age.

Barbara Gordon soon joined their crew as Batgirl, and the trio helped Gotham by running through its streets for a few more years.

When Bruce had fired Dick in hopes of him retiring and living a peaceful life without harm, Dick had changed his identity of Robin to Nightwing and moved to Blüdhaven.

Bruce nearly had a heart attack from the thought of it, but Danny had laughed and reassured him that Dan had readily accepted him and chosen him as a champion.

“A champion?” Bruce had asked. “What’s that?”

“A champion is a specific hero that a spirit can support and defend. You’re my champion,” Danny smiled, tapping the little batarang-shaped brooch near his heart. “That means I support you. Dan will support Nightwing. He’s possessive, so rest assured that Nightwing will be very, very protected by him.”

And so Bruce breathed a sigh of relief, let him go, and tried not to worry.

Not that long after, Bruce met Jason Todd, who was also quickly adopted.

Jazz had seemed particularly happy, always at the edge of Bruce’s vision whenever she could as he and Jason soared over Gotham roofs.

“Is he her champion?” Bruce had asked Danny. “Since he’s born and raised in Crime Alley?”

Danny chuckled, but he seemed tired. “You’ll see.”

Bruce did not see, because Jason had presumably thrown someone off of a building and then ran off to find his mother, getting killed in the process. By the time Batman had arrived in a plane with its engines nearly combusting from going so fast, it had been too late.

Jason, his son, was dead.

He would no longer smile and make quippy remarks. He would no longer help Alfred in the kitchen. He would no longer fall asleep on the manor’s library, an open book on his lap. He would no longer fly over Gotham and be his partner.

Red, yellow, and green would no longer be by Batman’s side.

Because Robin was dead.

The grief nearly consumed him. He blamed himself. He blamed the Joker. He blamed Jason. He blamed Dick.

He blamed the spirits.

Anything and everything was a target of his sorrow and rage.

He couldn’t help it.

He had already lost family once and became a vigilante to fight crime.

He didn’t know what to do now that he had lost family again, when the cause of death was vigilantism.

Gotham City wasted away as the spirits and Batman mourned for the little Robin who would never fly again, buried in Gotham soil.

Bruce mourned and hated everything in equal measure.

"It's your fault!" He screamed, as Danny stared at him blankly. He was dressed in his extravagant and otherworldly spirit form, his face and eyes covered by a long veil train covered in stars. His clean, neat form only seemed even more infuriating as Bruce felt like he was dissolving from his own madness. "If-If Jason hadn't been— if he had— if only—!"

Danny responded to none of his words until he insulted Jazz, the Crime Alley spirit, for Jason's death. It had been an irrational statement from grief, but they cared not one whit. All hell broke loose as Bruce was kicked off of the roof. He narrowly got away by using his grappling hook, but after that, things began to go badly.

Computer malfunctions, never ending pop music in the Batcave, engine failure, vehicles that refused to open or work properly, tree branches that deliberately slapped him or roots that tripped him on every step, sirens of the Arkham Asylum wailing every day and night, gorgoyles that would move and bat away his grappling hooks— the spirits began to turn against him in petty revenge and pranks.

It had not resulted in deaths of innocents, as even they knew limits, but they never failed to make his life even more miserable or inconvenient than ever.

It wasn't until Batman, in his exhaustion, nearly fell off of a roof and became a splatter on the ground in Crime Alley, and was picked up by the neck like a scruffed kitten by a disgruntled Crime Alley spirit, did it all stop.

"I see you haven't been having a good time," Jazz said. She looked like a teenager now, with her hair in ironed curls and a blindfold around her eyes as she frowned at him.

"... yes," Batman said, because he almost never apologized in his life and in his depression, felt like it was unfair that she got to act out while he could not.

"Batman," she said, her voice stern. "We mourn with you. After all, Jason is one of our own too. He came from my domain and I allowed you to meet him. Danny accepted him as a protector of Gotham and he flew alongside you for years. It was Dani that tried to get you to him faster. It is Danny's soil that he is buried in. His brother lives in Dan's domain as his champion. We all mourn for him, Batman. That does not give you the right to unnecessarily take your anger out on us or any of Gotham's citizens."

"I am meant to protect Gotham," he spat. "I was chosen as his champion!"

"And yet you're breaking limbs for petty crimes. You're terrorizing the streets like a madman. You're making the citizens scared. You are a symbol of redemption and change in this city, Batman. You are not a sign of fear or hatred. Get your act together. Batman is still needed."

Then she dropped him on the roof and left.

Bruce went back into mourning, licking his emotional wounds, but none of the spirits pranked him anymore.

They seemed... pitying.

Bruce apologized to Jazz and blamed it on grief. She forgave him easily, and his world was nothing but gray again.

He tried, but it was hard. Dick did not care enough to come help, lost in Dan's city and his own mourning for his little brother while Barbara had been forced onto the sidelines from her paralysis, which left Bruce on his own, adrift and untethered, unable to blame anyone and unable to unleash his anger. Alfred was there, but like always, he was only a stony pillar in his life. The spirits refused to handle his rage, so all that was left was just an ache for a lost son and a mindless need to run himself to the ground to perhaps quicken his journey to join his family again.

It was the spirits who helped him once more.

Danny subtly nudged Timothy Drake in his direction, and he soon became another Robin with Stephanie Brown and Cassandra Cain joining his team.

Bruce got better, but he was not perfect. He was still angry and hurt and ever-so-slightly lost. But he continued on.

After all, if he quit now, then what was all of this suffering for?

The spirits continued to assist him, along with his family. They were powerful, not omniscient, but no matter what, everything they did was for the betterment of Gotham City.

Time passed with Tim as his Robin, when Jason came back.

With a hunger for revenge and to test Bruce's love for him.

Bruce was so, so, so tired.

He loved his sons. His daughter(s). He loved his family and his duty and he loved Gotham City, but sometimes, it felt as though it was pulling him apart.

Danny and the other spirits (especially Jazz and Valerie) had always lectured him on taking breaks and knowing when to rest, of knowing his limits and being willing to quit when necessary, but Bruce always found it difficult.

As he watched Jason almost self-destruct in his rage and hatred, Bruce wondered if they would blame him if he quit here and now.

But he didn’t.

Things changed. Jason had changed from that sweet, intelligent, charming boy into a young man with a short fuse and an even quicker urge to kill. He beat up Tim, killed dozens of people, and took over the underworld, all to spite Bruce.

In a way, he was proud and so disappointed.

It was Jazz who approached him on the nights that Danny usually spent with him.

Bruce looked up at her, lovely and beautiful and so hauntingly tall that she looked like a monster, just like the domain she haunted, both dangerous and amazing all in one.

She bent down and shifted into her civilian form, one with black and white formal wear, her hair straightened into its natural state as she smiled with bright, turquoise eyes. This way, she looked soft and gentle, a little different from her cold and strict persona as a city spirit of the most violent part of Gotham.

“I can help you with Jason,” she said, when he turned to look at her. When his eyes widened, she continued, “I was going to do it anyways, but I want you to know what you need to do as well.”

“… what do I need to do?”

Jazz smiled. “Just try to welcome him back? It will all work out.”

“Both Jazz and I will help you,” Danny then spoke, from Bruce’s other side. When he turned, he saw Danny, dressed in a ratty hoodie and scuffed up sneakers. Danny smiled teasingly. “I can’t let my champion go without his family, right? Jason has been chosen as Jazz’s champion. You don’t have to agree with his methods, but that is a problem of Jazz and Jason.”

“And I don’t care,” Jazz said tonelessly. “I don’t like it, but it has proven effective. Do not try to stop him too much, Batman. He needs to learn for himself.”

Bruce scowled, hating the fact that both spirits condoned murders, even if they were the deaths of criminals and drug dealers, but Gotham City and Crime Alley had spoken and he had learned his lesson before in rejecting their advice and going against them.

They were not his enemies.

They did not have to agree with him, and he was not beholden to their beliefs either.

They trusted him, and they were his closest and longest allies.

He sighed. “I understand.”

Jazz smiled, patted his arm, and then disappeared back to her domain. Danny stayed behind and they chatted for a long while before he too, had to leave before coming back for the next meeting.

It was frustrating at times, how the spirits could not always be there, but Bruce knew that they could not help it. They still had not gained enough strength to appear constantly, and they tried their hardest to help him even in their passive states.

Bruce sighed and moved on to try and coax Jason into a healthier, less murderous lifestyle with a lot less lecturing and judging, which seemed to shock Dick and Jason. (He pretended not to be offended by this.)

When Bruce saw Jazz next time in her spirit form, he felt a little emotional and sentimental when she appeared with a symbol of Jason's Red Hood on her chest, tying her fur coat together as a brooch, not unlike the brooch on Danny’s chest that looked like Batman’s signal.

Jason got the help he needed from Jazz (Bruce wasn’t entirely sure how this was done since neither of them nor Danny said a word about it to him and Bruce knew that Jason had never met any of the spirits), and soon, he began to integrate himself back into the family. Tim was a little resistant at first, but things were looking up.

But this was life, where the chaos never ended.

Soon, Damian joined the team and tried to kill Tim. Bruce barely held himself back from shipping him straight back to the League, but Danny and Dani knocked some sense into him, and even Jazz came to scold him heavily. Bruce was lectured day and night by disappointed city spirits and eventually, he taught himself to be patient and kind to his youngest son, who had been torn away from a life he knew into one that was very, very different.

Damian was insufferable at times, but Bruce found that he truly did love his son. He grew up kind and honorable, and in the end, it felt worth it.

Bruce wished that life would become sunshine and rainbows, but this was Gotham City, covered in smog and clouds and haunted by a teenage ghost who was friends with a tech geek spirit and a goth spirit. Things happened one after another and although the spirits prevented some things from happening, it was inevitable that they could not help him when he was not on Gotham or Blüdhaven soil.

Bruce got knocked into the timestream. Danny traveled with him and throughout the different timelines, several other city spirits appeared, even Dan, and they helped him survive and get back to his family.

And finally, when Bruce was reunited with his family, with his sons and daughter and mentally adopted daughter and butler, he could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

————

Things had been relatively peaceful now, with no major fights or violent disagreements between any of his children or family. Even the city had been calm for awhile, most like in preparation for the holidays.

Bruce snapped out of his memories when his children all turned to him, staring intensely for answers. He blinked as they all stared at him with wide eyes.

"B?" Dick asked, raising an eyebrow, "what do you think?"

Bruce was quiet.

He hadn't meant to keep the secret for so long, but he just could never find an opportunity to bring it up.

Eventually, as his children all stared at him with growing concern, doubt, and confusion, he said, “No, it’s true. Both Gotham City and Blüdhaven are haunted.”

There were gasps and then cries of confusion and demands for answers. Tim looked at him for clarification, as Damian gloated over the fact that he and Tim already knew. Bruce’s lips twitched in a smile before Jason suddenly asked, “Wait a minute! If it really is haunted, then how do you know and not us? Did you meet them before?”

Bruce tilted his head as his children turned to look at him again. Then he said, “I knew them in my first year of being Batman.”

“That was before I adopted,” Dick muttered to himself, but everyone only looked even more interested.

“So you met them? The ghosts or whatever? Can we see them right now? Are they in the car?” Stephanie rambled.

Bruce thought about it. The spirits did not mind being outed (in fact, they had protested to being kept a secret and Bruce was constantly nagged about his poor habit of doing so), so they wouldn’t be angry if he brought the entire family to meet them now.

It was high time his children met the spirits of the city.

Bruce nodded. “I can take you to meet them. I have to give them their Christmas presents anyways.”

They all cheered again and burst with more questions. Bruce ignored them, even Dick who was climbing him like a tree and whining to know more, as he collected the presents that he had gotten for the spirits. He went to the Batcomputer, still ignoring Dick and Cass who were now hanging off of him, and typed a short message into a document.

‘Meet up at Amusement Mile in 10 minutes.’

He left it open, as Tim then asked, “You can communicate with the ghost through the Batcomputer? Are they actually ghosts?”

“You’ll see,” Bruce said, as Dick and Cass were now attempting to choke him for answers. He collected a few more presents and a laptop. He tossed his kids off of him and dodged another attempt by Steph to catch him before he whistled.

He threw a pair of keys to Jason, who looked at it, confused.

“Take that bike, will you?” Bruce asked, pointing to the shiny new black adventure bike. “You can follow after the car.”

Jason whistled as he finally recognized the new bike. “Damn! When the hell did you get this beauty?”

Stephanie raised a hand enthusiastically. “Can I come with?!”

“Hop on, blondie. Can we go now?”

Bruce resisted the urge to sigh.

For a moment, he was unsure of himself.

For so long, the existence of the spirits were solely his. No one around him knew that they were there.

And now, both sides, his family and the spirits, would be officially meeting for the first time.

He shook off the thoughts and got into the Batmobile, where the rest of his team followed. He made sure that all of them were wearing the appropriate gear and uniform, since it was already winter and only growing colder. Damian complained but Dick was able to wrap a scarf around his neck.

Bruce didn’t fully close the door again when Alfred walked into the cave and asked, “When will all of you expect to be back, Master Bruce?”

He paused. Then he said, “Do you want to come with, Alfred?”

“Oh dear. Whatever for?”

“To meet the ghosts!” Damian spoke up for Bruce. “Come with us, Pennyworth. It’ll surely be interesting.”

Alfred sighed, though there was a touch of fondness before he also entered the Batmobile. Cass easily surrendered the passenger seat to him, slipping into the back.

Jason, from the new bike, laughed and crowed, “Hell yeah! Now it’s a full party!”

Bruce couldn’t resist a smile as he patted the steering wheel. The Batmobile began to purr and soon enough, they all sped out of the cave and through the streets of Gotham. The sun was starting to set, casting the world in orange hues. His children were all in the backseat, chattering and making theories as Jason and Stephanie joined in on their own comms. Both he and Alfred sat together in companionable silence as Bruce idly drove.

Then, as they reached a good spot, he let go of the wheel and said, “Dani, your turn.”

The car swerved out of control and just as Tim and Dick yelped loudly, the car steadied itself, straightening, and then immediately went into overdrive, zipping through the streets. The view outside of the windows passed into a colorful blur too fast to see as the engine rumbled like thunder.

“Holy Batman!” Dick screamed with a laugh as they swerved and turned crazily, narrowly dodging a sharp corner.

Everyone in the car tilted dramatically before Dani righted the car again and they all dropped back into their seats.

“Good heavens!” Alfred cried, hanging onto his chair tightly with wide eyes as the car continued accelerating into impossible speeds.

Bruce just smiled, sitting still while his kids were all squealing from the rapid maneuvers of Dani. They all looked like they were having fun though, and Bruce just held tightly onto the presents as Dani approached Amusement Mile.

After nearly jumping over the gates, she immediately slowed down to a smooth halt in front of an empty food court in the abandoned theme park.

“Oh my god, I think I’m dizzy,” Tim complained.

“You’re so weak,” Damian snipped back, although he looked a little dazed himself. Meanwhile, Cass and Dick were beaming wide smiles, looking as though they wanted to do that again.

“The autopilot wasn’t on, so was that one of the ghosts who controlled the car?” Dick asked cheerfully.

Bruce nodded, avoiding Alfred’s sharp glares. “You’ll meet them all today.” He left the car, helping out Cass and Tim. Jason and Stephanie arrived moments later.

“B! What the hell?! Why were you going so fast?!”

“It was the ghost!” Tim said. “He was controlling the car.”

“‘She’,” Bruce corrected. “It’s a she that’s controlling the car.”

When everyone turned to look at him critically for more answers, he turned his face away and opened up the laptop that he took from the Batcave. He opened it and placed it on a table placed in the outside food court. It turned on with a blink and Bruce put in the password.

“… did you just type 696969?” Stephanie asked, sounding extremely amused.

Bruce sighed as his kids all snickered like preteen boys.

The place around them was empty and dusty. His children, after observing him for a moment as he typed away on the laptop, silently found seats around him at the tables of the food court, all seated close to each other. Alfred remained standing, looking around in a slightly confused fashion but unwilling to say a word. Bruce looked down at his feet, where grass and weeds were growing in the cracks of the neglected cement.

Then he focused on the laptop again and pressed a few buttons on the laptop before taking a step back.

His kids all perked up. Even Alfred straightened the tiniest bit.

There was a crackle.

And then—

“Batman!” A voice called.

Everyone turned to look at the car, where Dani was sitting on top. She was dressed in her civilian clothes, a pair of jeans and a regular sweater. She waved happily, lovely and warm like sunshine. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail and when she hopped off of the roof of the Batmobile, it bounced around her face in wild waves.

She approached and everyone but Bruce stared in confusion and fascination.

“I thought I’d finally come out since you didn’t say anything,” Dani explained to Bruce. She turned to his kids and waved. A few waved back.

A new voice appeared. “Ugh, what took you so long to bring me here?”

Tucker stretched. He was also in his civilian form and he wiggled his fingers playfully when the others whipped their heads around to gape at him. He sat down at a table and said, “You took forever to bring me out. When is everyone else coming?”

“Already here,” Sam said, bored and in full goth, stepping out of a patch of grass to sit next to Tucker. “Wassup, Bruce.”

Bruce acknowledged her with a nod.

“We’re here,” Wes said, coming out of the walls with Valerie by his side. Both were also dressed casually. “Sorry, are we late?”

“We still have the other three,” Sam said. “B is introducing us to his kids.”

“Finally!” Valerie snapped, sitting down with a huff. “We’ve been telling you to tell them for so long!”

Bruce said, “I know, but none of them figured it out until now.”

“Hey,” Dick complained, “How are we supposed to know? They’re ghosts!”

Bruce gave him a level look. “Through observation and careful inspection. You should’ve—“

“Lay off of them, Bruce,” Sam interrupted with a small smile. “We kept ourselves hidden from them because it seemed like you didn’t want them to know.”

At this, everyone glared at Bruce, while he just sighed. Dani spoke up and said, “It was because I was careless today that they noticed. Don’t blame it on them.”

Another figure stepped out of the shadows and Jason startled, standing up. “Wolf?” He blurted, and Bruce looked over to see Jazz walking to them, a black helmet over her head and wearing a bodysuit. She paused when she saw Jason, gave a small wave, and then sat down next to Dani, who cheered when she saw her.

“Jazz!” She said, tackling her in a hug. “I haven’t seen you in forever!”

Jazz laughed. “What are you talking about? We saw each other the other day, remember?”

The five spirits burst into excited chatter, since it was rare that they ever met up like this, all together at once. Usually, it was only a few one-on-one meetups and Bruce knew this, so he stayed silent as did his family, giving the spirits the space needed to chat while also allowing his family to observe. Jason looked moody, but didn’t say a word.

Out of nowhere, Dan dropped in from the air, dressed in a stained bartender’s uniform. He scowled at Bruce.

“Couldn’t you have chosen somewhere closer to Blüdhaven? I had to travel over the entirety of Gotham City just to get here!”

Bruce bowed his head in apology. “I’m sorry. Next time, I’ll make sure it’s closer.”

Dan scoffed. “You better,” he snapped, before he made a complete 180 and beamed at his sisters. “Jazz! Dani! You’re looking lovely today!”

Bruce’s family stared between him and the Blüdhaven city spirit.

“Are there… more?” Stephanie asked, after sneaking over to him while the tables of spirits chatted.

Bruce nodded and raised a finger for one.

Tim also slid over and said, “They don’t look like ghosts.”

Damian, having crept alongside Tim, muttered, “They don’t look important or powerful either. Father, what is going on?”

Alfred sighed. “Young masters, please sit down and stop standing around and whispering.”

They sat down. Tim and Steph shared a seat, both hanging on via a buttcheek as Damian had pushed Tim off of his. Bruce didn’t say a word, though he was inwardly exasperated and already regretting this entire meeting.

Dick was staring at Dan critically, while Jason was staring at Jazz with a frown. They obviously knew each other, but Bruce still didn’t know how. Cass was just looking between all of the spirits, looking slightly confused.

Finally, the last guest arrived. Footsteps sounded from nearby and Danny jogged over to them with an easy smile.

“Sorry, am I late?”

“Yes!” All of the spirits shouted, glaring at him.

Danny just grinned and then looked over at Bruce. “Hello. Finally showing us off?”

Bruce nodded. Then he stood up and said, “Everyone. Meet the city spirits of Gotham City and Blüdhaven.” He began to gesture to them as he gave introductions. “This is Dani, the spirit of the Batvehicles. She controls all of the Batvehicles in the cave. This is Tucker, the Batcomputer spirit. This is Sam, spirit of all plant life in Gotham City. This is Wes, spirit of Gotham City gargoyles. This is Valerie, the Arkham Asylum spirit.”

This earned several shocked looks and gasps. Valerie gave a polite nod with a hint of pride. Bruce moved on.

“And this is Jazz, the Crime Alley spirit.” Jason’s expression twitched. “This is Dan, the city spirit of Blüdhaven, and this is Danny, the city spirit of Gotham City.”

Danny smiled at them.

When he finished, there was a burst of noise and confusion. Bruce endured it all for a moment before he raised a hand, quieting everyone, and then said, “Let me explain.”

Bruce talked about how he noticed them in his first year of being Batman (he got a very strong glare from Alfred for keeping this from him), then how he met Dani and befriended all of the other spirits. He talked about how they helped him, how they accepted the Robins as protectors of the city alongside Batman, how they taught him and assisted him in vigilantism, and how they were fundamental in protecting him and the city.

He went on to explain what and who they were in more detail, and when he described Jazz and Danny, everyone stared in a mixture of disbelief and awe. When it was done, everyone just stared at him with bafflement on their faces.

Bruce shifted uncomfortably. Alfred’s gaze was especially cutting.

“Wait… so… you’re saying that these all-powerful spirits look like… this?” Stephanie asked, clearly trying not to be rude as she gestured to them all.

Tucker snorted. “This isn’t our real form. It’s just our civilian one, so we can interact with you guys.”

Tim asked, “Could we see it? Your real forms?” He turned to look at Bruce questioningly, who just looked at Danny.

Danny shrugged with a smile and waved a hand in front of his face. In an instant, a veil slid over his head and back, inky black with twinkling stars lighting up the inside. He wore a formal vest and cape tie, with his coat shoulder robing him. His brooch shone brightly over his heart.

The air began to chill even further than the winter night.

Jazz took off her helmet and her red hair fell down in curly waves, her bodysuit exchanging for a dark fur coat and a long, blue dress with black gloves. Pearls circled her throat and wrists, dripping with blood. Her brooch flashed and Jason straightened his back at the sight of it.

Dan sighed and his bartender uniform melted away into a dark blue policeman uniform, formal and distinct. His skin turned translucently green and his hair bled white. His hat covered his eyes as he leaned back in his chair slowly. His brooch, cut in the shape of Nightwing’s symbol, was bright against his dark clothes.

Tucker waved his hands and his casual ware was exchanged for a high-tech suit that wasn’t dissimilar to Batman’s own appearance. However, there was no cape and the color was more gold and brown than black and gray. The white eyes were exchanged for a visor that flashed.

Sam brushed a hand against her skirt and her outfit turned into green and purple, something like what Poison Ivy would wear stretching and growing over her skin. Leafy clothes and flowery details covered her body until she could’ve blended into a garden perfectly. Flowers began to pop into existence beneath them all.

Wes shook his head and everything about him turned into granite. His clothes became formal, like a suit from the 1800s, and horns and wings began to grow from his head and back stiffly. He sat in his chair, unmoving and still.

Valerie flicked her hair behind her head and her yellow clothes began to bleed into white with red stains. She wore a uniform that looked like the combined versions of both a nurse and a doctor, with a cloth covering her mouth and red goggles over her eyes. Her curly hair seemed to have grown even messier.

Dani was the last to show off her form, and she spread her arms and her clothes transformed into that unique style she had developed not too long ago, something that looked like a cross between Batman and Robin. It was all black and gray, with yellow, green, and red accents. She had a bright yellow belt and a long cape that glimmered with holographic shapes.

“Ta da!” She cheered. “What do you all think?”

The air had become bone-freezing cold, frost appearing on Bruce’s eyelashes and his breath turning into white clouds. It was cold before, but now it was blood curdling. There was a pause where the spirits all looked at each other before they switched back in an instant, and the temperature flew up, warming them immediately.

Everyone sighed from the relief, and Bruce handed Alfred his cape, who sighed before taking it begrudgingly. Then in that moment, his kids stood up and approached the spirits as they immediately went to chat with one another, completely ignoring Bruce.

Dick ambushed Dan, who didn’t seem unhappy with him as he was immediately pulled into an animated conversation with him. Bruce recalled how Jazz and Dani talked about how much Dan liked his eldest son, so it was no surprise.

Dani was chatting with Stephanie and Cass, waving her arms exaggeratedly as she talked. Steph looked at her like she was the cutest thing on the planet, while Cass stared at her like she was an interesting, but endearing bug underneath a magnifying glass.

Damian and Tim were chatting with Valerie, Sam, and Wes in a serious conversation. They seemed to be debating something, with Damian and Valerie mostly doing the talking with Tim and Sam interjecting every once in awhile. Wes looked as though he was trying to instigate an argument, however, as everyone glared at him whenever he talked.

Jason had already pulled Jazz into a corner of the building, and they leaned against the wall and talked quietly, shoulders pressed together.

It looked… intimate.

Bruce almost wanted to march over there and pull them apart, but he barely held back when Danny and Tucker approached their table. Tucker immediately pulled Alfred into a conversation about the maintenance of the Batcomputer, mostly with the both of them complaining about how the kids were so messy around the keyboard.

Danny sat next to Bruce and said, “So why did you call us here?”

Bruce blinked, pulling his gaze away from his son and the spirit of Crime Alley. “What?”

“Why’d you call us here? You usually don’t summon us all at once.”

Bruce said, “Dani accidentally revealed herself to Tim and Dami. I thought it was high time that I introduced all of you.” Danny looked back at his siblings, all who were deep into their conversations.

Bruce followed his gaze, watching his kids have fun and make friends with the spirits.

He felt satisfied, looking at them. He wanted nothing more than for his children to be happy, safe, and protected. The spirits had helped him many times when he was still starting out as Batman, giving his advice and narrowly saving his life multiple times.

Now, hopefully, they would help his children too.

Bruce continued, “And it’s Christmas.”

Danny didn’t turn to look at him, only humming, “That’s true. It is the holiday season.”

“I got you and the rest of the spirits presents,” Bruce said, and Danny perked up.

“What?! Are you for real?!” Danny cried excitedly. “Can I see? Please? Now?”

Bruce laughed. He presented the gift to him, and when the other spirits took notice, they also approached, pulling away from their conversations. Jason and Jazz were the last to come over.

“Ooh, what is it?”

“Open it!”

“Do we also get one?”

Bruce passed out their gifts as his kids also crowded around and heckled them into opening it.

One by one, they all opened their gifts.

Dani received a bucket full of (human) treats and snacks, with a bottle of motor oil at the bottom. She cheered when she saw it and immediately opened a bag of gummies to share with everyone else.

Sam received several packs of the seeds of poisonous flowers and plants. She happily took it as the people around her took a wary step back away from her.

Tucker received a Bluetooth speaker. He declared that he would use it to annoy Bruce and Tim into sleeping whenever they stayed up too late, and everyone but Bruce and Tim cheered.

Wes received a high quality camera. Tim offered to help him use it efficiently, and he accepted, with both of them leaving the table to chat about it.

Valerie received a tube full of anesthesia. Like Sam, everyone took a step away from her as she hugged the capsule to herself.

Jazz received the bike that Bruce had asked Jason to bring. She jumped up and down and thanked him profusely and for some reason, Jason glared at him for it.

Dan received a photo album. He took a peek and then closed it tight, smiling to himself as he refused any questions asked. Bruce knew it was a photo album of the few times he was able to take pictures of the spirits, as well as an entire horde of Dick’s photos.

Danny received the deed to a new building built in Gotham City, an observatory tower for the stars. When he saw it, his face split into a beaming smile like a miniature sun and when the other spirits saw it, they also congratulated him, especially Dani who wanted to see it as well.

“It’s still being built,” Bruce explained, but Danny didn’t seem to care.

“Thank you so much!” He said happily, admiring the deed to the building in his hands.

Bruce felt various eyes from both spirits and humans on him. He didn’t mind. He smiled and enjoyed how much they all loved the gifts they got from him, gifts that they deserved. As all of the spirits admired their presents and chatted with his children, Alfred turned to him.

“If I recall correctly, I believe that you have mentioned them before. They must have been the friends you mentioned a long time ago, hm?”

Bruce nodded. “They’ve been with me since I first started.”

Alfred hummed. “They seem like good children.”

Bruce smiled and nodded again.

The hours passed and eventually, Sam and Valerie couldn’t handle the strain anymore. They disappeared back into their domains, signaling the end of the reunion. More and more spirits began to leave, with waning enthusiasm as their strength was being drained from being out too much. The car and laptop were left behind by Dani and Tucker when they disappeared. Only Jazz and Danny seemed relatively fine, as the rest began to leave back to their haunts. They still looked tired though, and Jazz politely excused herself.

“You’re leaving already?” Jason asked, as Jazz straddled her bike.

She nodded, her helmet covering her face once more.

“We’ll talk more later?” Jazz said, and Jason gave a firm nod.

“At 2. At the usual place.”

She nodded and left, fading into shadows.

Danny was the only one left. He held the deed in his hands and smiled sweetly. “Thank you, Bruce. You should go home now. Spend some time with your family. We appreciate the gifts you’ve given to us, champion, and do not worry, we will watch over the city and your family.”

Bruce gave a nod.

Danny reached over and put a hand on his shoulder. The weight of it was heavy and significant, but it also spread a warmth through Bruce’s body.

It was an extra blessing for the night.

Bruce gave him a minuscule dip of his head. Danny just smiled and like a cloud, dissipated.

Bruce released a small sigh of relief.

Truthfully, he wasn’t sure what he had felt about his kids and the spirits meeting. He wanted the spirits to protect them. He wanted his kids to accept them. He was just… scared. For some reason.

But everything had gone well.

The spirits had always loved his children, and his kids were never probably not able to offend them. After all, they were also vigilantes of Gotham, and all of them risked their lives on the daily to help the city.

It was no shock that they got along like a house on fire.

The blessings of the spirits meant a lot.

His children would now have extra help by their side to keep them safe if he wasn’t able to.

It was Cass that spoke up and brought him out of his thoughts.

“B? Home now?”

Bruce nodded.

He felt… strangely full. Like eating a full meal. He felt satisfied and content.

He smiled, then. “Shall we go do some last minute Christmas shopping?”

Alfred sighed, as the kids cheered, enthusiastically agreeing since they now wanted to open their own gifts after watching the spirits. Bruce couldn’t help but laugh as Cass stuck by his side and Damian insisted on picking another fight with Tim with Jason instigating as always.

Bruce blinked and looked up as he felt something cold fall over his face.

Snowflakes drifted down, bright against the dark sky.

Alfred hummed. “It’s snowing. Master Bruce, shall we go back into the Batmobile?”

Bruce smiled.

“Yes. Let’s go.”

It was Christmas Eve. And with his family by his side and the blessings of the spirits, Bruce had nothing else to worry about for awhile.

“Wait, B! We’re not patrolling today?”

Bruce shook his head. The spirits had agreed to patrol for him, so he could spend the entire day with his family. They all looked surprisingly hopeful at him, even Jason.

Yes, it was a good day today.

Tomorrow would be even better.

“Nope. Today and tomorrow are days all to ourselves!”

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||

Merry Christmas (Eve)! I hope you guys enjoyed this fic. It’s scary how the year is already starting to end. Ty to @meditating-cat for betaing my fic for me!

Me: *writing a Bruce-sympathetic fic*

Me: Is this character development (for me)?

This fic is meant to be comical and fun, so I tried to breeze past the sad parts as best as I could.

At one point, Danny was acting too mature and this fic was starting to look like a Spirit Halloween ship fic, so I had to quickly change things up :,/

This fic is inspired by this idea specifically, but also about the Gotham City spirit Danny AU on my blog here. (Look at the tags for more).

Wolf is Jazz’s vigilante name and she is part of my assistant!Jazz AU.

[punkrockisafulltimejob]

I literally grew up below the poverty line. My income, as soon as I had a job, went to supplement the household, and with a disabled father my income was the secondary income. We were still below the poverty line. "New" was a novel concept to me and my siblings, because nothing we ever got was new.

I have been blessed with opportunity, I got a full time job, a husband with a stable income, and a third income via my MIL. We just bought a condo, and we were able to spend some money renovating (out of necessity, rather than desire), but we are still firmly lower class. All three of our cars were used when purchased. Mine is 20 years old, and I'm at least the third owner. I'm currently ignoring my check engine light because I cannot afford the repairs I know my car needs. We are basically going to be scraping to pay the mortgage and our bills for the next several months while we attempt to build up a savings again, but more likely than not we're going to be back to living paycheck to paycheck for a while, especially since I can no longer work full time because of my declining health.

The life I live is one singular step up from the poverty I was raised in. When I was a kid, we juggled which bills we'd pay that month. As an adult, I'm using every single penny I have to pay my bills, and even then sometimes I miss a payment on something because I have to wait for my next check to get deposited.

I am poor. I am lower class. Unless something drastic happens in my life, I will always be lower class. This is not a luxury lifestyle by any means. If you try to tell me how "good" I have it because my husband and I, as well as my MIL, have a three income household and can pay the bills, I will eat you. I've lived the lowest of the low, and this is barely above that.

I would (figuratively) kill for a middle class lifestyle. I would love to be able to pay off all my bills and debt and have the automatic payments come out without me obsessing about it it'll put me in the red. I would love to be able to buy books whenever I want them, and not think twice about telling my husband we need to buy another book shelf to hold them. I would love to be able to quit my job and live solely off my husband's income so I can be the house spouse I want to be. I would love to turn my long weekend birthday trip to the beach/fave used book store into a week long adventure, and not have to use the cheapest motel in the area for two nights. I would love to have my hobbies be hobbies and not something I need to monetize in order to make ends meet. I would love to be able to go out to dinner and a movie once a month with my husband, cover the bill for my friends at lunch, buy a new laptop when I need one instead of praying my decade old computer pulls through just a little bit longer. Being able to bring my car to the shop when needed and not having to scrape to pay the mechanic would be amazing. Any of that would put me at *maybe* lower middle class. Not even firmly middle class, lower middle class.

I am not middle class, and I am not your enemy. People who are middle class are not your enemy. People living a life of luxury as celebrities aren't even your enemy. It's the billionaires who profit off of your labor without regard for the fact that you're a human being who deserves to live that are your enemy. Eat the fucking rich.

Ive noticed recently that my generation has... no concept of what the various economic classes actually are anymore. I talk to my friends and they genuinely say things like "at least i can afford a middle class lifestyle with this job because i dont need a roommate for my one bedroom apartment" and its like... oughh

You guys, middle class doesnt mean "a stable enough rented roof over your head," it means "a house you bought, a nice car or two, the ability to support a family, and take days off and vacations every year with income to spare for retirement savings and rainy days." If all you have is a rented apartment without a roommate and a used car, you're lower class. That's lower class.

And i cant help but wonder if this is why you get kids on tumblr lumping in doctors and actors into their "eat the rich" rhetoric: economic amnesia has blinded you to what the class divides actually are. The real middle class lifestyle has become so unattainable within a system that relies upon its existence that theyve convinced you that those who can still reach it are the elites while your extreme couponing to afford your groceries is the new normal.

[mattslolita]

˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧

"psst, y/n...y/n, wake up!"

your eyes fluttered as you stir, before gaining composure and slowly opening your eyes; your best friend is crouched down beside you, a big grin on his face as he stares down at you. "chris, what time is it?"

"it's already past midnight," he whispers to you, nodding his head towards you, "c'mon, we have to go before we wake everyone else up!"

"chris, i-"

"come on, y/n!"

a small groan leaves your lips as you get up as quiet as possible from your blanket spread on the floor next to nate. nick and matt had successfully been able to sleep on the actual bed, and you're pretty sure nate had rolled off and fell next to you. chris volunteered to sleep next to you on the floor, claiming you'd get "lonely" by yourself down there; all of your friends knew chris just wanted an excuse to be near you at all costs.

you rub the sleep from your eyes, smoothing out your pajamas that you had worn to sleep. you and chris wore your matching set of snoopy pants, whilst you opted for a white tank top.

a shiver ran down your spine at the exposure of the chilly wind that seeped inside from the window. you turned to see the window slightly cracked open, small dribbles of snow pattering softly against the glass. chris tossed you a hoodie of his, which you gratefully accepted as you threw it on your shoulders.

"what are we even doing up this early?" you giggled to him, as he grins while taking your hand.

you both tip-toed to the kitchen, careful not to wake everyone in the house up. two steaming mugs sit on the countertop, filled to the brim with hot chocolate; marshmallows decorate the top, the heat making fun swirls as it circles around the coffee mugs.

"i wanted to make snowmen," chris shrugs, causing your eyes to widen and then narrow at him.

"boy, are you kidding me?" you seethe, hurrying to your own mug as you let the heat encompass you. "i was trying to sleep!"

"but you love the snow!" chris pouts, causing you to roll your eyes, "an' i didn't wanna make them alone."

after a few sips of hot chocolate, putting your hands on your hips and giving chris an exasperated look. "fine, i'll make them with you. but you owe me."

"deal, m'lady," chris agrees, wriggling his eyebrows, "let's go!"

he takes your hand in his, the both of you walking towards the front door of the cozy home. once outside, you're immediately greeted with the beautiful scenery of snow falling from the sky. a small gasp leaves your lips at the sight, watching as it falls slowly to the covered streets of boston. the streetlights illuminated an icicle that covered nick's bedroom window from upstairs, and you couldn't help the grin that spread across your face.

"hey kid, y'done gawking at the icicles?" chris suddenly whispers in your ear, to which you elbow him slightly.

"i bet i can make mine before you!"

"you're on!"

whilst the rest of the city was fast asleep, you and chris littered your street with giggles and laughs as you built snowmen with each other. you loved christmas with the sturniolo's. when your house didn't feel Iike home, they always welcomed you with open arms, treating you as their own. especially your best friend, chris; most of all, he felt the most like home.

the beautiful white crystalline snow continued to fall upon you guys, laughter filling the quiet and making you feel like a kid again. that was the effect he seemed to have on you; he healed and bought out your inner child again.

your heart was filled with nothing but a pure joy as you wagged your arms up and down whilst in the snow, creating a snow angel. you looked up at the sky, smiling as you reveled in the comfort of the people that felt like home.

all the while, chris's gaze never leaves you; he watches you with nothing but pure admiration lining his features, drinking in the sight of your happiness. and he had yet to know he was one of the many reasons that caused it.

you turned to look at him just then, your heart hammering in your chest as his lips slowly upturn into a smile. "merry christmas, m'lady."

"merry christmas, chris."