#i was supposed to be spending no money at all until after christmas. but they were half price and i'm miserable

[farawaywiththefairies]

i'm getting more fairy pyjamas soon yayayayyyy

[cxrsed-angel]

Once Bitten and Twice Shy

Jackson!Joel Miller x fem!Reader, 18+

summary: Joel is uninterested in holdiday festitvies until he reunites with a familiar face who loves to spread the holiday spirit. Alternatively, Joel the Grinch is reunited with his Martha May Whohiver.

wc: 4k

warnings: Jackson!Joel, unspecified big age gap, smut (unprotected piv sex), fingering, a bit angsty, (sad and lonely old man Joel) the timeline kinda doesn't make sense but its not that important so just ignore it.

a/n: Here's a holiday fic for my last fic of 2024 <3.

Joe hated this time of year. The twinkling of Christmas lights decorated on almost every home and roof in Jackson, lights decorated around light poles, bows around the light poles. The community hosts holiday events for the children, people putting up their homemade holiday decor, and the whole town covered in snow, making it look like a scene from a Christmas movie. It's a time that’s supposed to be joyful, cheerful, and merry, but it was never that for Joel. Not since ‘03, Christmas hasn't felt happy around this time of year. It was always filled with pain, regret, memories he couldn't seem to forget, and mourning the things he’d never experienced.

At first, Christmas and the holiday season, in general, were hard for him after he had lost Sarah. He couldn’t help but think about all the times he had gotten her letters to Santa she had written when she was 3 and 4 or when she was “subtly” hinting at something for Christmas when she got too old for Santa. Or the time she saved up money to buy him a cologne and a new tool belt with the help of Tommy.

After that day, the day he lost her, he ignored anything having to do with the holiday, and this time of year, which wasn't hard to do in QZ, there’s barely any holiday spirit or festive decor, but that was increasingly difficult until he met you. You had gotten paired together for a run because Tess was sick, and ever since then, you were something he couldn’t shake, and you grew closer. For the two and half years he knew you, you had made the Grinch’s heart grow three sizes. He’d never say it, but you'd had let him allow himself to enjoy this time of year.  

You always hung up whatever festive Christmas decorations and winter decor you could find all over your shitty FEDRA apartment. Joel tried too hard to fight it, but the more time he spent with you, the harder that was. He often joked you were one of Santa’s last remaining elves on earth. He spent two Christmases with you. He remembers helping you hang up whatever you couldn’t reach.

“Joel… can you help me hang this nail.. it won't go into this shitty door!… he sees you holding the red, green, and white wreath you had found somewhere, trying to mount it on the shitty, broken, falling apart apartment door. “well I think you need might wreath hanger sweetheart…” he sees confusion flash across your face but only momentarily,” I can't just hang it on a nail…” Joel sighs before taking the wreath and hanging it up. He pretends he doesn’t enjoy your holiday spirit like he doesn't get happy when he hears the records and CDs of whatever holiday music you could scrounge up, like he doesn’t look forward to seeing your festive apartment every time he visits you. 

But that was before. Now, he can't stand the music, the smell of holiday baking, and warm homemade candles. Ellie would joke and call him the Grinch or Scrouge, but that was when Ellie talked to him. Now, he’s lucky if Ellie glances in his direction. But he had no one now, and he could spend time with Tommy and Maria, but since the baby had arrived, it had been hard for him to see Tommy as a dad. Luckily, Tommy knows his brother and tends to give him things to work on to distract himself, especially after he and Elie drifted apart. 

Tommy comes into Joel’s workshop. He sees Joel working, an old Linda Ronstadt CD playing barely audible due to the sound of Joel's woodcutter. Tommy bangs on another table lightly, grabbing Joel’s attention. He stops the woodcutter, looking up at his brother. 

“If it’s about the broken window for Mrs Anderson, I'm working on it,” Joel mutters from behind the woodcutter, starting it again but stopping when Tommy speaks again. 

“No...no, it's not about the window. I need you to do me a favor. Can you show someone to her place? She just got here; it's house #40. I would, but Maria is doing some town stuff, and I gotta watch the baby.” 

Joel sighs, taking off his protective glasses and trading them for his regular black-framed corrective lenses. He moves away from his woodworking table, looking at his younger brother with an unsatisfied stare.

“Now?” Joel grumbles under his breath, obviously annoyed.

“Yes, Joel, now... please,” Tommy asks, begging. He knows that asking Joel to do anything he didn’t want to do after November was a challenge. But Tommy really didn’t have anyone else, and Joel happened to be the closest person to ask for help. 

Joel once again lets out a sigh, once again showing his reaction to being unconvinced. Usually, he wouldn’t care, but now, whenever he's near the front gates, near the most decorated parts of Jackson, it gets hard to breathe. He gets the aching feeling in his heart. He thinks of you more and more, and he wonders if he made a mistake. He starts getting up to follow Tommy out of his shed.

 “Wow got a lady waiting in the snow? Such a gentleman, Tommy.” His voice full of sarcasm as he looks at his brother. 

Tommy lets out a small chuckle, rolling his eyes at Joel’s sarcasm, choosing to ignore it. “After this, you can go back to your woodworking hole for the rest of the day, I promise. It's just one girl; she should be waiting by the front gate. It should take a few minutes. Just be nice and welcoming, and then I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the month.”

“Rest of the damn year,” Joel mutters under his breath, putting on his brown jacket, hat, and gloves, preparing to brace the snow and cold weather. “Gotta be a damn welcoming committee in fucking below 30-something-degree weather,” he mumbles as he walks out of the shed.

Tommy rolls his eyes yet again, hearing Joel's comment, before going in the opposite direction towards his house. As Joel walks down towards the entrance, he sees the decorations filled along Jackson's main road. His thoughts immediately go to you. 

I keep my distance, but you still catch my eye. 

Joel tried his best not to fall for you. He couldn’t love you. Not just because he was afraid of losing you but because you were too young and didn't need his baggage. But that got harder the more time he spent with you, and it worsened around December. Your cheerful smile was contagious. Hope gave him something he hadn’t felt since before the outbreak. Hope. Hope for a future with you. Even if it was in the QZ, you made it look brighter and more positive than it was. It made him love you; if he loves you, it's only a matter of time before he fails you.

One way or another, he can't lose you. Losing Sarah still felt fresh and recent, not 20 years ago. He doesn’t know if he could handle losing you, too, especially because of him. But Joel knows he can't hope, not in this world. It's easier to push you away and make you hate him. When Joel felt these feelings, he did the one thing he knew how to do: create distance. He went from seeing you multiple times a day to maybe once a week. Barely talking to you, he stopped kissing your lips and touched you less, but you still found a way to be around him. You still held his hand, sleeping in the bed next to him. 

“This…ain’t working.” Joel sighs, looking down still. Your back is turned, trying to warm hot chocolate; you managed to persuade him to get on one of his smuggling runs, up on the shitty stove in the QZ. An Ella Fitzgerald Christmas album playing on a CD occasionally having to skip a song cause of its skipping. 

“It's a paper snowflake, Joel. What are you talking about? How hard can it be? If you don’t want to do it, you don’t.” You sound confused but are still focusing on the stove.

 Joel sighed again before looking up at your back. “I ain’t talking about the damn snowflake.” 

It's the tone of his voice that causes you to turn around, the sense of dread in his words, the way he seems almost scared to say them. You turn, looking at him, and he can't even look up to make eye contact.

 “Then what are you talking about, Joel.” 

Joel finally looked up at you, and you knew exactly what he meant wasn't working, "Us. This. Whatever this is, it ain't working.” He got up from the small round wooden dining table.

What do you mean this isn't working? It's been working fine for almost two years, Joel!” 

“Well, it's not working anymore.” 

You look at him before taking the attempt at hot chocolate off the stove, last thing you needed was a fire, but you go back to looking at him for any explanation or further clarification about why this wasn’t working out for him when it felt so right for you. But he never offered one. 

“I can't. It's not….working,” he says slowly, tired. Joel pinches the bridge of his nose. He knows this isn’t easy, but Joel cannot do this anymore. He can't let himself get attached to you. He convinced himself it would be easier in the long run.

He never said anything else. All he did was leave you in your apartment. Leaving you speechless and heartbroken. After that, Joel avoided you, or you were avoiding him, but each day, he saw you less and less until around the first week of January, when he noticed he hadn't seen you around at all. He asked around, even bribing FEDRA guards, and finally, one told him that you had escaped and left town with a group of a few other women. Joel had the realization that he’d probably never see you again. He knew you were strong and capable, especially if you had a group. He wasn't worried about you dying, but he had to kill you off in his brain to move on. Because if you weren't dead, then it gave him hope. 

Losing Sarah felt like strike one for him. The first time he felt his heart became cold and isolated, he lost the ability to smile, laugh, and even care. Until he met you at the QZ, it was hard not to smile around you. For the first time, he felt genuinely happy near you. He enjoyed your presence, the jokes you’d make about his age, and the warmth you brought back into his life. Then he ruined it and messed it up again like he failed Sarah. He failed you and lost it all again. Then Ellie brought it back with her jokes and outlook on life. Then again, he lost it. After that, he decided to give up and live the rest of his life in Jackson, mainly alone. 

Joel finally reached the front gate but didn't see anybody waiting. He looked around until he saw a figure in the barns, near the horses.

 “Tommy’s bright idea of leaving a girl out damn in the cold. Forcing me to be the goddamn welcoming committee, Jackson is small, but it ain't that small. Tommy could've found someone to do this…” He mutters to himself as he approaches the barn. 

Snow crunching under his boots causes you to jump at the sound, accidentally scaring you. He sees the girl turn around and instantly recognizes you before you remember him. He sees your eyes still shining, still young, still….hopeful. Not much has changed physically, but at the same time, he can tell something changed. 

Tell me, baby, do you recognize me?.”

It has been 3 years since you left the QZ since he had broken your heart and made his own even colder. He doesn't know what to say and realizes you don't even recognize him. His hair is longer and grayer now than it was. He has more wrinkles and glasses now. Probably put on more pounds now, having access to meals more consistently, not going on runs,  and having to walk miles every day. He can only imagine your thoughts on why this old man was looking at you in such a way, almost on the verge of tears. 

You reach a hand out to greet him and introduce yourself, hearing your name for the first time outside of his head in years, but he doesn't speak. He knew his voice would give away who he was, and he was scared of your reaction. He didn't know if you would be happy to be reunited or slap him because of the last time you spoke. He takes a deep breath before looking at your hand and then back at your face. Three years later, you didn't change much. You still looked just as beautiful to him as you did those years ago. 

“We…um... have met before.” He speaks slowly, knowing that once you hear his voice, you’ll recognize him. 

The second you hear his voice, you suddenly recognize the man in front of you, and shortly after, all the memories return. Memories of sleeping in Joel’s apartment in the QZ when you would get nightmares, memories of him teaching you how to properly shoot in the woods, memories of the first time you had kissed him. Memories of him ending whatever you two had back in the QZ. It all came back flooding your mind. You didn’t know what to say, react, or feel. You look at him for a bit, unsure what to say, so you say the first thing that comes to mind.

“Joel? You have….um, you have glasses... Now. .” Those were the only words that came out of your mouth, the only sentence your brain could make. He let out a small laugh, happy you didn't slap him and cuss him out. He reaches for the frames. “Yea. It got hard to read tiny fonts, so… found a pair of readers, and there's an old eye doctor here,” Joel says painfully awkwardly, unsure of what to say or do next. A part of him wants to pull you into his arms and apologize for being an idiot all those years ago. More than anything, he wants to kiss you and tell you that he loved you then and never really stopped. 

“Well, um, I can show you to your new place.” He walks you over to the smaller houses since it's just you. 

“So, how long have you been here.” You ask as the two of you continue to walk in the snow. “About not that long, El- um, I had a girl I had to look after, but she’s an adult now and doesn't need me anymore, but it's safe, so I decided to stay.” Joel walks down, noticing the holiday decor. He can't help but point it out. 

“Bet you’d fit right in here and come at the perfect time.” You nod, agreeing, taking in the town's scenery, the lights, the homemade decor, and the children’s drawings, and you smile a bit. 

“Wow, it’s really pretty, much nicer than the QZ. You must be like a Grinch up on top of the mountain around here, huh? " Your joke makes Joel feel at ease. He laughs, looking at you, feeling like no time has passed. He walks further, approaching his house, snow covering the roof, absent of any lights or holiday decorations that the other houses in Jackson have.  

“No, I…join in…occasionally.”  Joel replies very unconvincingly, which makes you laugh as he opens the door, letting you in. 

“Sure, I bet you join all the festivities, Joel.” He leads you into his house, which looks how you would imagine a middle-aged man living alone to look.  You stand a bit awkwardly in his living room, unsure what to do or say, and find it hard to believe Joel was in front of you after all these years. “But if you kissed me now, I know you’d fool me again.”

You don’t know who started it, who leaned in first, who kissed who first. It feels like both lips were drawn to each other like magnets. Joel places his hands around your lower back as you close your eyes. His kiss immediately feels like home, safe and warm. Joel pulls away softly. He looks at you, afraid, like he was dreaming. You look back at him, just unsure. You were half expecting him to say something similar to what he said all those years ago, that he couldn’t do this again, yet your lips clash against each other, messily and desperate for each other. Your hands came to his face, holding his greying beard and pulling him as close as possible. 

He lays you down on his bed, hovering over you, kissing down your neck, pulling your shirt over your head, temporarily removing his lips from yours to take off your shirt. You shift, taking off your old sports bra you’ve had since God knows when. Joel feels what you’re attempting to do. He pulls off it, over your head, before his lips return to yours again. Your hands reach, grabbing up to his brown and grey curls.

“Joel….” you moan on his lips. His hands travel up your chest grabbing, squeezing your boobs, making another moan slip. His hand runs down to your stomach, down to your clothed core, rubbing it slowly.

“Joel, I've missed you so much.” He looks down, nods, and softly raises his hand to your face. He looks at you, and you can still tell he’s hesitated, nervous, even scared. 

“I've missed you too, more than you could know.” He kisses you again, but you pull away, sitting up a bit. He takes off his jacket, tossing it somewhere. His green flannel is next. You start unbuttoning it, but you feel his hands on your wrist, stopping you. Your eyes meet his.

“What…” You look confused as to why he stopped you. He had taken your pants off and wanted to have sex, or so you thought. You look at him, waiting for him to say something, but he never does.

“What, Joel? do you not want to-?” Your eyebrows frown, anxious, worried you had read into something. You had misunderstood. But he cut you off before you could finish your sentence. 

“No, I do. I do. Believe me, I do. It's just been a while since we’ve…since you’ve seen me?” Joel tries to explain, but you still don’t see the problem.

“Okay, but we did have sex back at the QZ….many times, so.. I did see you shirtless. What's wrong?” You sit up fully in his bed. Joel sighs, moving off from on top of you and sitting beside you.

“Yeah, well, that was years ago…when I was probably a few pounds lighter, sweetheart.” You suddenly realize what’s wrong. 

You raise your eyebrows, confused. “Seriously, Joel… you really think I’d judge your body because you're actually getting hot meals daily?” Joel looks at you, and your hands go back to the buttons on his flannel. This time, he lets you. 

“I'm serious, Joel. I really don't give a shit…about any of that.” You reassure him as you push his flannel off his shoulders, seeing the white t-shirt underneath it. Your hands go to the bottom of the shirt. 

“I'm just glad I found you again, and you’re not injured or…” You take a deep breath, thinking about the worst-case scenario. You lift the bottom of his shirt, and he helps you remove it.

He nods as you take his shirt off and kiss his chest. “Just glad you're safe, Joel. I don’t really give a shit if you look a bit different.” 

He lays on his bed, pulling you down on top of him, kissing you, his arm around your waist, pulling you closer against him.

“Glad you’re safe too, babygirl,” he speaks softly in between kisses, his voice is deep.

He reaches between your two bodies, unbuckling his belt and tossing it aside. Your hands goes to his jeans, unzipping them and tugging them off. Joel kicks the jeans off the bed. You feel his cock through his boxer shorts against you. You look down seeing the sizable bulge, you can’t remember if he’s always been this big, but he looks very big. Borderline massive, honestly. 

“Did your dick..grow, or is my memory just that bad?” you ask Joel. He laughs a bit, thinking you’re joking. But you’re not trying to rack your brain to remember if he’s always been this…thick.

 You hear him chuckle a bit. “Last I checked, it was the same, sweetheart.” you reach your hand on the waistband, slowly pulling his boxers down his thighs, watching his hard cock spring onto his stomach.  

Joel's larger hand reaches over yours, guiding it to his cock to jerk him off. You kiss his lips as you move your hand a bit faster. Joel moans against your lips before he moves away. Joel slowly tugs your underwear down your legs, and you kick them off, watching him grab the fabric off, tossing it with the gathering piles of clothes forming onto his bedroom floor.  Joel moves his hand off of his cock 

“Sweetheart, can I fuck you? Please, honey, I gotta be inside you.”

Joel slowly inserts his fingers inside you, feeling the wetness. His fingers curl up, fucking his fingers deep inside. Your head goes back against his pillow, feeling his finger's pleasure in ways yours haven't been able to, reaching places that you haven't been able to reach since you left. His fingers are larger and thicker than yours, making your eyes roll back. You moan out his name, missing the feeling of his name on your lips. You nod repeatedly. 

“ Please. Please. Joel. Please fuck me. I need you.” You moan, grabbing his arm as he thrusts his fingers deeper inside you. 

“Yea? Want me to fuck you.” His fingers slow down, and he presses his nose against your neck. You nod again, letting a moan slip out as he kisses down your neck. 

He moves his fingers, moving you closer and slowly pushing his thick cock inside of you. Slowly pushing the tip of his dick further inside.

You've slept with Joel numerous times in the QZ, he’s fucked you more than he can count, but this was different. You feel him slowly thrusting deeper inside you. Your nails dig into his back as you he fucks you, his cock reaching deeper inside you. This was passionate and slow. The making love you’ve read about. 

” Joel.. Joel. You feel so good.” you moan, feeling him fuck you deep and hard but still slow, like he was savoring, enjoying this moment.

“Missed you, baby. Missed you so fucking much thought I… 'd never see you again.” he looks at you watching your face frown, scrunching up in pleasure. Your eyes close, but he can’t take his eyes off of you. He doesn’t want to miss a moment, miss any more time of being with you, seeing you, touching you. It feels like no time has passed. He still knows your body like the back of his hand. Your moans fill the room. He’s memorized by you. he feels as if he closes his eyes, he’ll open them, and you’ll be gone, that this was a dream.

Your eyes flutter open, and you look up at Joel, pulling him closer. He looks down at you fucking deeper inside, and you feel the pleasure building up until you reach your release gripping onto his shoulders, your moans grow louder. 

“So close. Please, Joel, wanna come. Wanna come with you.” You whine, pleading with Joel as he fucks you deeper, nodding.

“Can tell you’re close, baby. Look so pretty like this full my cock.”

 He reaches between the two of you, rubbing your clit until you cum, moaning, crying out his name loudly. Joel is glad he didn't have any neighbors close enough to hear.

“Joel! Joel!” Fuck!” Joel watches are you come undone on his dick, the prettiest sight he’s ever seen. His thrusts speed up, not far behind you. Surprised he even lasted this long, considering he can't remember the last time he had fucked anything that wasn't his hand. “Where you want it darling,” he grunts between his moans. You barely register what he’s asking you properly fucked out. You whine at the overstimulating sensation of his cock fucking your sensitive hole. You open your eyes, looking up at him. 

“Inside…please, Joel want it inside me.” Joel uses every inch of his restraint to not come to the sound of your words, your begging. He shakes his head no. He had no intention of becoming a father of a newborn again in this lifetime, especially at this age. 

“You know I can't.” You whine, disappointed a bit, minds still a bit foggy from your orgasms. You look at Joel. 

“Don’t care, Joel.” He nods again, thrusting a few more times, moaning more before pulling out, cumming onto your stomach. He breathes heavily, looking at you, and he slowly moves from on top of you going to his bathroom. He grabs a towel, cleaning you off before joining you back in his bed. You instantly move closer, laying against his chest, and he puts an arm around you, kissing your lips once again. He looks at you for a bit before breaking the silence. 

“I love you.” The second he says those three words, you feel the air come out of your lungs. You didn’t know what to say or how to respond. You look at Joel, seeing the vulnerability in his eyes. He was telling the truth. You look back at him, trying to start your brain back up. You smile, nodding, knowing how hard it must’ve been for him to say those words. God knows it’s probably been 20 years since, yet here he was saying it to you.

“I love you too, Joel. I always have. I have never stopped.” You look back at him. He softly kisses your lips.

“I think they’re having hot chocolate and cookies or something in the square, " Joel says nonchalantly, sounding uninterested. Looking at you, he pauses before continuing. Maybe even an old holiday movie or…something like that.”

You can't help but smile widely as he mentions the holiday activity going on in Jackson. Was Joel actually mentioning something holiday-related?

You look at him, still smiling. “If you want to ask me, old man, you gotta say it.” You tease. All he manages is an eye roll before sighing. 

“Would. You like to. get hot chocolate and watch an holiday movie sweetheart.” joel asks cracking a smile as his hands rubs your back softly. 

“I'll give it to someone special.” 

[ieatfanficforbrunch]

People Pleaser Steve

Steve is a people pleaser. Years of living with his parents and their demeaning stares and harsh words have destroyed his sense of self preservation.

"Keep Eye Contact, Steven," his mother would say. "Stop Complaining, You need to make our guest Comfortable." His father would say. Until the age of ten all Steve got was criticism. Constant reminders on how to behave perfectly and how to appease his parents.

The morning they decided he was old enough to stay home himself, coincidentally on his 10th birthday, they packed up and started renting an apartment in Chicago to better monitor their Business. They sent him money for food, got him a bike so he could go to school, they even sent a few extra 20s every other month so he could get new clothes as he grew.

Of course, Steve never complained. This was how he kept the peace, how he avoided the cold glare from his parents.

The pattern continued into adulthood, Steve practically raised himself for the last 8 years of his childhood, he only saw his parents when they needed him.

When he (accidently) became the mother of the nerdiest bunch of kids in Hawkins, he made himself a promise, No matter what he'd be there. Every recital, every birthday party, every holiday, and every time they needed a ride; he was there.

When Christmas came around after everything had happened, after Max had recovered and Eddie's wounds had healed perfectly, he decided he would make it the best Christmas they'd ever seen. Just to make them happy.

He decorated the entire house, made enough food to feed his small football team of a group, he got so many presents for everyone that he had to skip out on food three days a week for two months just because he wanted it to be perfect.

The kids came over on Christmas Eve night to spend the night together, slept in sleeping bags he bought special for them. Eddie came to help wrangle the crazies until Robin got back from visiting her grandparents in Ohio.

They ate like they were starving or like it was their last meal. All except Steve, who was too afraid to overstep or take away from someone else to even try one of the many kinds of food he made.

The games died down and the food was gone by midnight. The kids slept peacefully in their sleeping bags. Steve let out a small sigh, a smile on his face as he stood and took empty platters and plates to the kitchen.

He washed the dishes in silence, a baggy crew neck sweater replacing his usual polos. He knew if he wore them the others would notice he had lost weight and he didn't want to inconvenience them. It was rude to burden others with your problems. He honestly thought he had gotten away with it until a familiar Metal head guided him to the kitchen table.

"Ok Big boy, This isn't working for me," He said in a soft voice.

Steve immediately looked up, "I'm sorry, it won't happen again," he whispered, not even sure what he did.

Eddie sighs and says, "Steve, You think you're hiding it so well but you aren't. You take care of everyone and everything all of the time. Let me take care of you."

Steve couldn't move, couldn't respond, How Was he supposed to behave? He didn't know so he merely nodded.

Eddie smiled and immediately made Steve a bowl of cereal, something small and quiet. When he was positive Steve would eat it, he finished the dishes for him.

Steve looked so beat down and tired, the bags under his eyes told so much and Eddie knew that from now on he would do Everything to keep them away.

He took the empty bowl and washed it before walking over to Steve. "I know it's a bit early but...I got you something," he whispers, pulling out a small box from his back pocket.

It was a light blue box with a thin red ribbon and white trim. Steve's thin fingers removed the lid to find a locket in the shape of a guitar pick.

Inside there were two pictures, one with the kids, and one with Steve and Eddie. It was the picture from when Eddie was discharged, the day Steve agreed to get treatment for his wounds. Eddie's arm is around Steve's shoulders, it's the only picture in the world with Steve's Real smile. His eyes swelled with tears. It's the only gift he's gotten since he was 10, since his parents left to run their company, since Everything.

"Shit I didn't mean to make you cry again! I just-" Eddie is cut off with the tightest hug he's ever gotten.

"It's Perfect," Steve whispers.

He's met with calloused hands on the back of his head, gently massaging his scalp.

"Merry Christmas, Harrington."

"Merry Christmas, Munson."

[mqrrstarr]

Hi!! ‘Tis the season! Can I request how Geta and Caracalla (separate please) celebrates Christmas (or really Saturnalia) with you? Any gifts of special moments they’d strive to create? I know they throw one hell of anChristmas party- Tysm !!

A/N: YIPPIE! MY FIRST REQUEST THANK YOU DEAR PERSON!! I’m going to write for my glorious emperor Caracalla bc he’s my precious angel and he’s such a cutie in my eyes who deserves all the love he can get. Will post a Geta version after!! - xoxo mqrrstarr

Christmas With The Emperor (1/2)

Emperor Caracalla x GN! Reader

how Caracalla would celebrate the holidays (Saturnalia / Christmas) with you!

Warnings: not edited, and it’s like half headcanons and half story, also I wrote about it Saturnalia first and then Christmas!!

GO READ GETA’S VERSION!!

Summary: Caracalla spends the holidays of Saturnalia and Christmas with his SO!!

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Caracalla enjoyed spending time with you.

His cherished partner, the one who vowed to love forever. The holidays had come around in Rome, and Saturnalia was all the rage. Outside the palace and in the streets were lines of vendors, performers, and even cooks who were eager to feed the public. Caracalla always took comfort in this period of celebration, and as a devotee to Saturn.

“Darling, are you ready to leave yet? I don’t want to miss any of the activities!”

The man was giddy with excitement, and eager to see you in newly made red, purple and golden clothes, the traditional Saturnalia colors. You nodded and the both of you took off in Caracalla’s chariot with two guards along.

The wheels on the dirt roads guided you to where the main festivities took place, the sacrifices of young pigs to Saturn. Caracalla took your hand as you were his, and smiled as the public bowed down to the both of you.

“See? They bow to the most elite of Rome.”

He kissed you before providing his own sacrifice, a young pig provided by Geta. (Caracalla couldn’t bear the thought of killing his own pig, so hence Geta supplied it.)

Soon after, you left to go to the markets. You noticed how happy Caracalla was, his pale cheeks all rosy and his smile as giddy as a child in a candy store. It was good for him to feel this way. Signs of respect and gifts were thrown your way, and Caracalla eagerly accepted each and every one. You hesitated a little bit, as you did want to financially compensate the merchants.

“I suppose I must, Lord Saturn might ruin the Empire’s farming and harvest. Thank you for telling me.”

He’d give sacks of money to his guards to give the merchants, as he’d want to get home. Caracalla had spent time running around in the road and then wanted nothing but to eat and spend time with you.

“Darling. This was fun. Didn’t I tell you?”

He smiled.

“I’m eternally grateful to the Gods that they gifted me you, and that I live to witness our rule and life until the day it is over.”

He’s absolutely adorable and falls asleep in your arms. A few days later, it’s time for Christmas. The whole month of December was been exhausting. You’ve been busy helping Macrinus choose new gladiators, been meeting with the senate and Geta to figure out tax issues, and studying. On the other hand, Caracalla’s just been doing whatever Caracalla does.

Yet, Caracalla takes the time behind your back to get you the most lavish gifts ever. New robes, a shiny new pair of sandals, golden jewelry, and most importantly; himself.

You’d wake up after him, (which is surprising, as he usually wakes up after you) and he’d been sitting with the gifts under his tree.

(help I don’t think this is time period accurate but whatever)

“Surprise!! All the luxuries you wanted are here! Merry Christmas!”

He’d grab your hand and twirl you around, dancing in the room and kissing.

“I couldn’t ever imagine life without you.”

He paused for a second, clearly trying not to burst into tears. You caressed his face, as he looks up at you in this state and says,

“I love you. I know I am not worthy of your affection, yet you still give it. I thank you.”

You smile and reassure him that isn’t true. You take this chance to pull out your own secret gift for Caracalla and gift it to him. It’s a copy of his favorite childhood book, and a necklace made of both of your favorite gemstones.

This makes him burst into tears, and all you can do is hug him and cherish the moment between the both of you.

(GOD PLEASE HES SUCH A CUTIE 😭)

[diremoone]

written in fine print | r. sukuna

moving to japan to get a breath of fresh air was supposed to be one of the best decisions you’ve ever made. it still may be, but now you’ve got a problem and you don’t know what to do about it. the problem? ryomen sukuna, one of the wealthiest men on the planet, being… enamored with you. you’ve come fairly far with him as “friends” while keeping him at bay, but after you both spend christmas together, you know that things have changed. and come the first day of the new year comes a surprise that forces you to face your bottled-up truth.

[ Ryomen Sukuna Masterlist ] | part three

w — slowburn, age gap, modern au, older man/younger woman, fluff, mild? angst, this time we get reader’s pov bc it’s time ;3, insecure! reader, self-indulgence, A KISS (but just one for now sorry y’all), reader and sukuna lay their feelings on the table (I’m sorry I couldn’t help but finally get to this part), sukuna gets kinda prose-y lmao, slightly unsatisfied with this fic but I hope y’all enjoy anyway, sprinkle of bittersweet at the end

God, have mercy upon my soul.

The dozens of text messages from your cousin have you sitting on the edge of your bed in absolute disbelief. You haven’t even had any coffee yet, or any sort of something in your stomach. It’s sheer willpower keeping you from throwing up the stomach acid in your belly.

But you do need something. You make your way into the kitchen and nab the biscuits you made yesterday from the bag they were in. You shouldn’t, but you eat all four of them anyway. Then you drink something.

You were wondering why everything was going too good, why life had been so… easy as of late. Now you understood why. It was the calm before the storm. It was the universe allowing you to have some semblance of peace before it decided to throw you into the pit of mental and emotional turmoil that you’d been so great at avoiding.

Why in the world did the universe decide to put Ryomen Sukuna into your life?

That’s the question you have been asking yourself over and over again ever since you decided to take him up on the offer of a first date six months ago. Even worse, why did you even think it was a remotely good idea to get involved with someone over ten years older than you? Universe aside, you should’ve had the good judgement to keep Sukuna away. Your good intuition was something you’d always prided yourself on, so why did you decide to even let Sukuna keep coming around?

You go back to your room and get the phone, rereading over the messages. One in particular your eyes stay on:

A benefactor has paid for nana’s care and set her up in a really fancy, upscale care and rehabilitation facility here. They came and got her this morning to transfer her. When I asked about it, someone from registration said it was a gift for you. Who the fuck did you meet in Japan? 5:16 am

And you know, deep within your soul and in your gut that Sukuna was behind this. There’s no one you know that has the money to pull off something like taking your grandmother from where she was to a facility where she’s going to get more constant help, cleaned, proper rehabilitation. No one else but him.

The coffee maker suddenly beeps, beginning to brew a fresh pot of coffee. You almost jump out of your skin from it. You wait until it’s done before digging out one of the banana nut muffins Shoko brought over two nights ago to pre-celebrate the new year.

You truly don’t know what to feel. You’re unsure about everything. Coming to Japan to get a breath of fresh air from the strain your old life was supposed to be one of the best choices you’ve ever made. But now, all it’s become is a whirlwind of even more, even deeper emotional confusion.

Meeting Yuuji was great. Meeting his older brother? The entire source of the emotional confusion.

You lean against the counter and gaze outside. The snow has finally ceased and you’re sure dozers are out clearing the roads. You can’t help but fall into your thoughts.

For awhile, you���ve had… feelings. You’re not quite sure what they are, but you know that they revolve around the older, rich man you’ve befriended. You know that whenever he’s around, you feel more… open, lighter even. You know he makes you feel flustered, to which you’ve learned to seal said fluster inside of a bottle and remain indifferent in his presence. Every time he looks at you or speaks to you, it makes you feel… giddy. Happy, dare you say it.

And it’s something you swallow down and hide every time it bubbles to the surface, fearing that it’ll be nothing more than the same story as your mother: a heart broken by the letdown of not ever being enough, not being what the man actually wanted, and not being genuinely cared for.

The mug of coffee in your hands grows hot, almost scalding against the skin of your palms. It brings you out of your own mind, just in time to hear your phone vibrate with more text messages, all still from your cousin.

Because apparently fate dropped a man in your lap that was more than ready to give you anything and everything you’ve ever wanted: unconditional love on a gold platter; fate decided that you finally deserve a break from strife and grief, that you deserved to stop eating humble pie, because lord knows you’ve done choked and damn near suffocated on that shit; that you deserved to be cherished and loved and made to be someone’s number one in their life.

You know. You fucking know what Sukuna does to you, how he makes you feel inside. You also know how he wants to treat you and the things he wants to do to you. And perhaps with you, if your gut instinct is right and he wants more than a body to warm his bed.

Who are you kidding? You know you’re right.

But it’s unfortunate for you that all you’ve learned to do is bottle up your feelings and act like they don’t exist. Because you’ve never been loved, not romantically anyway. Especially not like this, from someone like this.

How were you supposed to love? What did it really mean to be in a relationship? You’ve never been in one. Not one that ever really was going to go as far as this. Was what you were feeling all temporary? And if you did get into a relationship, what if he didn’t like you when you got comfortable? What if he didn’t like it when you laughed too hard, or any of the habits you have? What if he was just wanting to play savior and ended up leaving you a few months from now?

You toss your head back and groan. Why? Why was this happening to you?

You opt to spend the day inside, rather than go out like you had planned. You have to text Shoko and Utahime, letting them know that you’re not going to be able to participate in their plans of going out and visiting shrines for the new year. The latter is reasonably mad, but Shoko calms her down in the group chat. Although she does make an innuendo about spending the day with someone else “cozied up in bed” rather than them. You send her a side eye emoji in return on her personal thread.

You change out of your pajamas and into some casual clothes — a dark red long sleeve and some black sweatpants, switching to house socks to regular socks — despite not intending to go out for the day. You do end up on the couch for most of the day, switching your attention from the TV and the messages on your phone more than you care to admit. You hardly eat, and don’t realize it until you can feel your stomach against your spine each time.

All day is basically wasted in front of the television, trapped in your own mind. Trapped in the whirlwind that Sukuna has made of your heart and emotions.

You graze through your entire stock of sweets in less than a day, uncaring if it was unhealthy. Dusk settles on the horizon before you know it and you’re anything but tired. In fact, you’re wide awake.

“What do I do…?” you ask into the open air. You feel stupid doing it, but apparently fate has a response for you.

It’s 9:18 at night when several strong knocks rap at your door.

It’s 9:20 when you decide to finally answer the door.

It’s 9:24 when you realize you’ve got a guest at the front door, the very same man who’s been making you question yourself and your whole life ever since coming to this country.

It’s 9:30 when you question to yourself why you let him in. You didn’t think it through, that much you’re sure of. How could you be when he’s thrown your heart all topsy-turvy and mushed it into goo?

Just looking at him from his back floods your mind and makes your heart race, something you hope you’re able to hide by what you hope is a face of indifference and calmness. You can see the tattoos peek out from his turtleneck, and you have to gulp down your nervousness.

The large mug of fruity tea you’ve poured has now chilled, the ice just barely clinking in the glass. You quickly open the cookie jar on the counter and shove two snickerdoodles in your mouth to stress-eat being prepared for what was coming next.

“I…” you begin, and embarrassingly realize you have to swallow the cookies to talk. “I wasn’t expecting you to… show up.”

Sukuna’s silent for a moment, then replies stoically, “Neither was I.”

You gaze at him longer than you intend to. Your attention is mostly on his tattoos, the little bits that are peeking out from the deep crimson of his form-fitting turtleneck. You watch him readjust the watch on his wrist, partially revealing the tattoo inked onto his wrist. To your surprise, Sukuna actually doesn’t like showing off his tats. He used to in his younger years; he’s still proud of them, but he isn’t as much into flaunting them to the world nowadays.

Sukuna’s deep voice cuts through the air. “Have you… gotten my gift?”

You bite your lower lip. You nod even though he can’t see you. “Yeah… If you mean the one involving my grandmother, then yes.”

“I do apologize if I crossed any lines doing such a thing,” he says. “But I don’t regret it.”

“I can imagine you don’t,” you reply, knowing full-well that him regretting anything was a very rare occurrence. “But… Why? Why would you do that? Go through such trouble to help me… and my family? Just… Why?”

His ginormous frame turns to face you to look into your eyes and answer with nothing short of honesty, “Because I want you to be cared for. I’ve seen happiness in your eyes and I want to keep you happy. I want to be the one making you happy.”

“Buying my love will only get you so far,” you say.

“I know. I want to do more for you. I want… to be more for you. Not just… this. Whatever we have going on,” Sukuna admits casually, crossing his burly arms over his chest. But he doesn’t make eye contact. In fact, he keeps his eyes to the floor, away from your gaze. “I know what I want, although I’m not quite sure how to describe everything I feel… when I’m with you and when I think about you. It’s… I know what it is, I’m pretty sure, but at the same time… I don’t.”

“It’s new for you,” you mumble. Surprisingly, he actually hears you and nods. He doesn’t lie. Not with you.

“I’ve been with many women over the years, all for the same reason. I’ve never felt like falling in love or that it would ever matter. I know lust, I know what comes with that. With you, it’s anything but. At first, yes. But your immediate rejection, you continuing to keep your distance from me and your distaste known made me stop and think.”

You raise your brows. “All it took was a girl with some strong boundaries to make you realize you can’t live off being just horny for then rest of your life?”

Sukuna laughs. He actually laughs. A bright smile crosses his handsome face as his shoulders shake with laughter. He tries to cover it up with a hand, but all it does it muffle it into loud chuckles. It takes a good couple minutes before his chuckles finally fall into a simple smile of amusement. That’s when you admit your own truths. If you were going to be hurt, you might as well get it over with.

“In a way,” Sukuna admits. And then he admits even more, opening his heart and putting it on his sleeve. “You’ve reminded me that there is more to life, that I can be genuinely happy beyond office walls and red light districts. You have made me remember what feeling excited, what being on my toes feels like. You make the air lighter… happier, every time I see you. You… I care for you.”

Sukuna’s last words of admission are watered-down and you both know it. Then again, he says he is new to these kinds of feelings. And at this point, you believe him. You wonder if he knows that you’re just like him — exactly the same: that you’re new to the feelings of love, what it means to be in love. It’s confusing, really. You’re not sure where to begin when it comes to saying the things that Sukuna has seemingly had no problem admitting to you. You can’t just say, “Ditto” and make out with him.

Well, you could, but that’s beside the point.

You swallow the frog in your throat and look at him. He isn’t looking at you but at the ground, almost like he’s unsure of himself.

“You’ve made yourself a cozy place inside me, too,” you speak softly. Your hands don’t leave the mug as you set it on the counter. “We’ve only known each other for barely half a year, you know? You make me wonder if what I’m feeling is love, most of the time. I enjoy you; I enjoy your company. I enjoy the thrill you bring into my life. I… enjoy how weightless you make the world feel. I… I like the thought of being… prioritized. I’m just… confused on whether or not these feelings are rooted in love or something else entirely.”

“And I apologize for making you feel that way,” he replies. “That isn’t my intention.”

You’re quick to your words before he can continue. “Don’t apologize. Please. It’s not your fault. I… I’ve never been in a relationship. I don’t know what love is or what it’s supposed to feel like. I’ve never been loved, and I’m not quite sure how to reciprocate it. I’m afraid I’ll fuck up. Say the wrong thing, not do something right.”

Sukuna’s brows furrow. “There is no right or wrong way to be in a relationship — just yourself.”

“I’ve heard that, just as much as I’ve heard otherwise.”

Silence fills your apartment. You tap your nails against the glass mug, little tinks! resounding. You can’t look at Sukuna now. Not after just admitting to having never been in a romantic relationship. Now, you must seem more of your age than you ever have in his eyes.

“Any insecurity you have is not invalid. I would never disrespect them,” Sukuna finally says, sheer conviction making you shiver.

The giant man stands to take his place not even a foot from you. Magnetism draws you to his face and you cannot look away. His hand comes up and brushes his large fingers across your cheek.

And like an open book, he reads you from the front cover to the very last word, reading off your exterior cover and the interior pages you’ve hidden away. “You’ve carved yourself from early maturity, into someone that your loved ones have needed you to be. You’ve never been able to truly be yourself, be free. You’ve always had to be the rock that everyone has needed, when no one has been for you. You desire to be loved, but not at the expense of heartbreak nor sacrificing the person you’ve molded yourself into for the people you love. You desire to be free above all else, not wanting to be loved unless there’s someone who can love you and give you your freedom at the same time.”

You gape, eyes almost as wide as saucers with your eyelids lined with burning tears. You dip your head and sniffle.

“I want that. I want that for you. I want to be the one to give that to you,” Sukuna continues. “The time we spent together not even a week ago, I want more of that. I no longer want to live the way I’ve been living. I want to live with you, do those kinds of things with you. That sounds corny as fuck coming from me of all people, but that’s the truth.”

You can’t help but laugh. His tone of exasperation at himself was just too funny not to.

“And what happens when you give me those things? Will you be done with me? Move on to the next person?” you ask. “Once you’ve played the part of the savior, won’t those feelings end?”

“I’ll never be done with you,” he answers instantaneously, like it was nothing short of law. “You’ve captivated me, all of me. I’ve already tried pulling myself away a multitude of times. But then one little word of anything about you and you’re all I think about for the rest of the day.”

You sniffle again and laugh. “Did you practice this? You sound like a poet.”

“I can be one if you’d like.” You giggle at that. It’s silly, but you feel like Sukuna would oblige you if you said yes. “But I mean it, every word.”

You nod and whisper, “I know you do.” Because it’s the truth. He’ll never not mean anything he says. Brutal honesty is apart of Sukuna.

The emptiness of your apartment is deafening, it’s silence almost palpable to the point where you feel like you might being to suffocate. But large, firm hands cup your cheeks and bring oxygen into your lungs again.

His hands are warm, so warm. The feeling of being touched like this, so intimately, makes all the blood flow to your cheeks to the point where you think you’ll overheat.

“May I kiss you?” he asks, tone quiet, voice deep and baritone that makes shivers roll up your spine. “At least once?”

You can’t help but bite into your lower lip. The suffocating feeling has returned, just for a different reason. But your instinct goes first — action taking the initiative over the brain — and you nod once more, mumbling out a small “yes” that you chastise yourself for being so meek.

Sukuna’s free arm wraps around your waist and gently pulls you to your tippy-toes. You’re running on instinct, one hand resting on his chest, the other circling behind his neck, eyelids slowly closing as he dives in for the kiss you’ve allowed. And when his hand cradles the back of your head, his lips meet yours, and you swear to everything from heaven to hell that you’re about to explode and die in this man’s arms.

Everything feels like it’s on fire… until it doesn’t. That fire slowly simmers down to a gentle flame, one that brings a sense of contentment.

Sukuna tilts his head, moving your lips and deepening the kiss. You allow it, and it feels like the kiss has sunk to a new depth of desire. Dare you even think or say it be devotion. His lips are warm and sweet on yours; his kiss isn’t one of urgency, but perhaps the desperation of longing. It’s not slow and controlling, not greedy. Whatever this kiss is and all the emotions contained within, you know it makes you at peace and content.

Everything feels perfect.

You both part for air, lips slow to disconnect. You can’t help but feel slightly embarrassed being so out of breath, but hearing the slight heaviness of breath coming from the large man makes you feel less awkward.

“Thought you said you hadn’t been in a relationship before?”

Your reply is breathless, “Never have.”

“Then you must be a naturally good kisser.”

That makes you laugh. You press your head to his chest and giggle away, to which you hear what you think is a chuckle from his throat.

It’s 11:20 at night by the time you look at the clock again. It’s too late for Sukuna to go home. That’s the excuse you use anyway. He’s seemingly more than happy to use the excuse right along with you to spend a night with you.

Come morning, however, things shift back to the way they were before: confusing and lonely. The couch was just as empty as the apartment. Under you was not Sukuna’s body, but a stack of pillows from your bedroom.

The note on the counter about being called in for an important meeting doesn’t do his absence justice either, instead sending every one of your walls back up, twice as high and just as thick as they were before.

Your phone dings with new messages. Utahime and Shoko, both of which declare they’re coming over to drag your ass out of your apartment to go shopping like you should’ve yesterday.

You text them back, telling them you’ll meet them at the mall, that you’re going to get ready and this time you aren’t going to miss out.

You don’t know what to do or what to think. You don’t know if one night of vulnerability means anything more than just being open with another human being. All you know is that you need a break, from yourself, your confusion, from life, and especially from Sukuna.

You need the clarity of a shopping trip and good friends for company, because your hopes for what’s coming next are getting far too high and you’re beginning to really fall in love with Sukuna Ryomen.

taglist: (no longer adding)

@vagabond-umlaut | @poe-daydreams | @heresan @thedovahqueen | @lotus-n-l0ve | @chiyoso | @miraclecherryblossomsblog | @unbreakableblueheaven | @marscatbutler | @vanillabloo | @wo-ming-bai | @visionsofmagic | @tohsri | @yuujispinkhair | @lilacliliess | @bub-ss

[partycatty]

i am so desperate to top dark star!johnny he makes me so horny mad, like someone humble that son of a bitch. it so doesn’t fit him to be topped but 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

UGHHH UR SO ME FR!!!! LMFAOOAAO i love pathetic men!!!! i love projecting my kinks onto my fics — WHAAAT WHO SAID THAAAT????

for those unfamiliar with dark star!johnny

dark star!johnny cage > payback

you have had it up to HERE with the white man's utter nonsense.

warnings: you humble evil johnny sexually. 😀 no but fr this is nsfw, bratty johnny and he hates it, he says "stop" and "no" but we all know he's lying and he loves it (afab reader)

notes: i was so excited to write this i don't even think it's coherent i'm literally barking gnawing frothing foaming i crawled to my pc to boot up the game to make gifs of him for future use bc i know DAMN well i will come back to this clown

masterlist &lt;3

i will microwave him.

part 1* / part 2* / part 4* / part 5* / part 6*

•lord have mercy where do i even begin.

•alright, so let's paint a picture here.

•dark star!johnny may have stupid amounts of money, but he's a fucking idiot. he didn't spend a single cent on you for christmas! he'd argue with you for hours, saying both "i am the gift!" and "i buy you enough shit the rest of the year and now you want more?"

•when you argue to the point of running out of new things to bring up, you decide to angrily drop the topic entirely and move on with life. that is, until you hear johnny's muffled voice call from you from upstairs as you begin to prep dinner several days after the holiday.

•"sweet cheeks, a hand would be nice!" he shouts, a suspiciously evident grin in his tone of voice. you roll your eyes as his persistent cocky nature, but your frown turns into a little gasp when you open the bedroom to your shared door.

•this absolute idiot is sitting face down ass up on your silk sheets, tied down nice and tight with a thick red ribbon. a bow rests on his neck and broad chest. The Coat is discarded on a chair beside the bed, but everything else is still on. he smushes his cheek against the sheets as he desperately tries and cranes his head to look at you.

•"heeeey babe," he'll meekly greet you, shimmying his shoulders. "i, uh. i was going to surprise you. but i kinda fell forward and couldn't get back up. it was supposed to be a sexy pose but i tied my arms down before anything else and i can't prop myself up."

•"you're a dumbass," you reply back with a frown, not entirely amused as much as he is. "you think this makes up for your fuckup?"

•"...yes?"

•"no! and you know what? i'm gonna fucking enjoy this whether you like it or not!" you sigh with exasperation, slapping his clothed ass pretty hard, the sound of contact echoing in your large bedroom. he lets out a whiny shout, trying to tug his hips away from you out of desperation and ending up flopping onto his back.

•"hey! not fucking funny. i hate when you do that," he'll complain with a scowl, but his protests are hard to take seriously when he flips over and reveals an angry boner throbbing against his pants.

•"yeah, that's why you have a raging hard-on," you reply with a dramatic groan, grabbing a handful of his thick shaft through his dress pants. he yelps again, twitching his hips upward as you feel his heartbeat through his cock. "i'm not helping you up, johnny. this is payback. for christmas."

•you climb on top of him, hovering your lips right above his in a sickeningly sweet way. johnny, like the needy whore he is, tries to lift his head up and capture your lips, but you cut the attempt short when you expertly undo his belt in a swift one-handed motion and squeeze his dick through his boxer briefs. his once puckered lips open to let out a deep, strained whine, and you feel a warm wetness in his pants as you milk the pre-cum from his tip with your grasp alone.

•ohhh he is in AGONY. ds!johnny literally HATES when he's not in control, and even though he feels his dick get impossibly harder, he's still writhing at the thought of not being the leader.

•"come on, dollface," he'll try to protest with furrowed brows, but you see the way he bites his bottom lip. "don't play mean. that's not how this was meant to go."

•you don't even reply to his annoyance, you just stick a finger between his neck and the ribbon around it, tugging it and sending a wave of pressure on the sides of his neck. his eyes involuntarily roll back as you temporarily choke him with his own doing.

•"you're gonna take it, aren't you? the torture?" you ask, palming him through his underwear and holding his face close to yours. his expression contorts instantly at your roughness. "how are you gonna fucking like it when i treat you like shit?"

•"you'll regret it," he groans out in an attempted threat, but it ends up sounding more breathy and gravely than intended. "you'll fucking regret crossing me like this."

•he's literally the one that had the genius idea to tie himself up. he's a Grade A idiot for putting himself in the situation to begin with. or maybe he likes it :)

•you hastily tug your own pants off, shaking your leg to throw them aside. once you're free of the fabric, you pull down johnny's pants too, since he hasn't got the ability to do it on his own. sure enough, his underwear is already definitely stained, and yours is getting there. the sight along made a wetness pool in your panties. something about such a cocky, annoying man finally being put in his place was starting to drive you a little wild as you straddle his hips.

•you shove your panties aside and settle them in the crack between you pussy and thighs, and return the gesture to your boyfriend by tugging his waistband down and unleashing his little jonathan (sorry). his pink, angry cock springs free and slaps against your tummy. you giggle.

•"ha, ha. very funny. untie me now," johnny whines again with a frustrated tone, but there's a hint of blush on his cheeks as he looks away from your body on top of his. his anger contorts into needy moans when you wrap your fingers around his dick, stroking at a medium pace and coating himself in his own precum. "ngh, fuck — stop it, i'm not fucking playing around — aah —"

•his back hopelessly arches as you lazily stroke his dick. when you decide he's hot and ready enough for the real thing after he turns into a blabbering mess, you hover above his dick and grab two fistfuls of the ribbons; one on his neck and one on his chest. his pretty lips part as he catches his breath from the sudden movement, eyes darting across your features.

•as he tries to make sense of your bold move, you sink down onto his throbbing cock and fully take him in your walls. he's unable to writhe and squirm as you hold him in place firmly. johnny's eyebrows knit together and he swiftly moves his head to the side, his sunglasses crooked and dropping on his hooked nose. when he finally gets the strength to look down at your pussy engulfing his length, he whines at the beautiful sight and involuntarily bucks up to relieve the strain. you immediately let out a little shout of discipline and pull his upper body toward you.

•"my pace or no pace," you warn through gritted teeth. "don't pull that shit again."

•"or what?" he replies with a cocky grin, his horniness absolutely dripping from his voice. "you don't scare me." as he tries to play right back, you slam yourself down on his cock again without warning, his tip kissing your cervix invitingly. his eyes widen and he yelps out pathetically before turning it into an angry groan. "you're such a fucking bitch. i hate you."

•he starts to spew more utter nonsense about hating you and you being a bitch as you start to actually ride him, for once at your own pace. he's typically fucking up into you but this time he's tied down and taking it like a good boy! you needed this, though, to let out your frustrations with him lately. it's incredibly funny that, yes, he could technically just start bucking his hips into you, but you take note that he's actually listening to your threat and allowing himself to be used. you remind yourself to ask him to top him more often. i doubt he'd say yes.

•your pace becomes a relentless combination of slamming his cock and grinding on it to stimulate your clit, and johnny has now turned into a whimpering mess. his perfect hair was sticking to his forehead and flying out in all directions, his sunglasses were just barely hanging onto the bridge of his nose. all the while, he's still sputtering complains about being used and begging you to stop, but they sound hungrier than disgusted. your deep moans drown out his whines and cries, and you frankly don't really care about how he feels.

•you've officially fucked him stupid. he can't even get a proper word out as he's now trying to literally break the ribbons and give him access to his hands, but he's so horny he can't find the strength he typically has.

•"b... stop — babe — 'm gonna cum if you — aah, oh you fucker —" johnny starts to twitch and whimper, thrashing his head side to side as he gets closer toward release. you don't really give a shit though, as you're now chasing your own orgasm as your grinding becomes increasingly uneven. you grab hold of his neck to stabilize yourself, and the coil in your core snaps, your body sending waves of blissful pleasure through your entire being. you're violently reminded of your boyfriend's impending load when he throws away all command you gave him and starts fucking up into your sensitive pussy, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he pathetically tries to get himself there, too.

•you're acutely familiar with how his cock throbs when he's about to cum, and you use this information to your advantage as you abruptly pull yourself up and away right as he shoots his load. he lets out a damn near cry for help as he makes a complete mess of himself. it shoots up high, painting his stomach and chest as his hips thrust into nothing.

•"YOU FUCKING —" he groans out, eyes clenched shut as his desperation makes him act out. "I WANTED TO CUM INSIDE. YOU KNOW THAT'S MY FAVORITE. AND YOU RUINED A PERFECTLY NICE SHIRT!"

•all you do is return to straddling his hips, sliding your panties back into place and catching your breath.

•"but you look better like this," you reply lowly, taking a flat palm and putting it on his stomach. "all tied down and fucked out. i could get used to it. besides, this was my gift, wasn't it?"

•as his head tilts back to regain his composure, you snap a quick photo of his cum-stained shirt, flushed expression, and weeping dick.

•"consider this payback," you chuckle, wiggling the photo in front of his eyes. "i might just post this everywhere if you don't get me anything for my birthday next."

•"delete that, you cunt," he hisses back, once again trying to free himself. "untie me now. fun's over."

•"nah, i'm good," you reply, your annoying boyfriend being restrained giving you a dangerous amount of confidence. "i think i'll just leave you here. not before cleaning up your cum with your coat, maybe."

•"DO NOT USE MY COAT. IT WAS EXPENSIVE."

[stylesclarified]

Louis Tomlinson “The Communist King” is a liar who exploits his fans—Part I

As promised, this post exists thanks to The Mayor of the Hags and her usual “Louis good, Harry bad” nonsense.

Generally speaking, I don’t have a problem with Louis himself—I dislike him, sure, but my real issue is with his fans. This blog is about providing receipts for a fairer fandom, not defending Harry Styles’ honor (god knows he doesn’t need me for that).

That said, The Mayor of the Hags isn’t pulling this out of thin air. Louis Tomlinson is a shady motherfucker and a liar, so let’s get into it.

INTRO

Before we start, a necessary clarification: Understanding someone’s upbringing and economic status in the UK requires knowing its class system—a deeply ingrained structure that goes beyond money.

Yes, Louis’ family was working class. That’s not up for debate. But so were the other four members of One Direction—the difference is, they weren’t marketed that way.

Initially, Louis wasn’t in control of that image either. 1D’s team assigned each member a persona, and his was the “working-class underdog.” His family history—his teen mom, absent dad, and their supposed struggles—was hammered into fans’ heads.

The 1D documentary reinforced this. His mom spoke about their hardships, Louis talked about sharing his wages, and his role as the eldest helping his siblings was a recurring theme. It wasn’t just mentioned—it was drilled in. And while it wasn’t false, it was exaggerated for a narrative.

And this branding wasn’t aimed at class-conscious Brits. Why? Two reasons:

1D’s fanbase was global, which meant most of them wouldn’t grasp UK class nuances.

1D’s fanbase was also mainly pre-teens, so even British fans—it’d mostly flow right by them.

What fans would understand is poverty. That’s what Louis’ branding tapped into.

All five 1D members came from working-class backgrounds. None were well-off. If they really wanted to highlight financial hardship within the group, the person that actually struggled was Zayn—but instead, they were too busy whitewashing him, erasing his Pakistani father, and branding him as “mysterious” to bother. Emphasizing his economic background would’ve clashed with that strategy.

THE REALITY

Louis’ mom, Johannah, was 18 when he was born, and his biological father, Troy Austin, left when Louis was just a baby—both true facts.

Being a teenage single mom can be tough financially, but what often gets overlooked is that Johannah met Mark Tomlinson soon after Troy left. Mark became a father figure to Louis, legally adopted him, and went on to have four more kids with Johannah.

Mark often shares old photos on his Instagram, like the ones below, showing how long he’s been in Louis’ life. In the first, Louis is blowing out four candles on Christmas Eve 1995. In the second, from December 1994, Mark captions it “Christmas past with Louis & Daddy.” These photos confirm Mark was already a father figure to Louis by the time he was two, spending Christmas together and calling himself “Daddy” before Louis turned three.

Louis had a present father who gave him his last name and was there throughout his childhood. Mark and Johannah married and stayed together until late 2010 or early 2011, by which point Louis was already in One Direction, meaning he grew up in a stable two-parent household.

His eldest sister, Lottie, was born in 1998, and his second sister, Félicité, in 2000—when Louis was six and eight years old, respectively.

Around this time, Johannah attended Leeds University and graduated with a degree in Midwifery in 2002. Leeds University confirmed this, featuring her in an alumni magazine alongside Ben Winston, who graduated two years later

For those unfamiliar with the UK education system, studying at Leeds University can be expensive and is considered one of the top universities in the country (though not quite at the level of Oxbridge). To put its prestige into perspective, it was good enough for the son of a Baron—Ben Winston. His father, Baron Robert Winston, has held a seat in the House of Lords since 1995.

The fact that Johannah was able to attend Leeds while raising three children—presumably on just Mark’s paycheck—suggests they were financially stable enough to support her education, their home, and their kids.

Mark worked as a commercial truck salesman, a well-paying role, especially since commercial trucks typically have higher profit margins than regular cars. After graduating, Johannah worked as a midwife at an NHS hospital, a job that also offers a solid income. By 2004, when Louis was 12, Johannah gave birth to twins, Daisy and Phoebe, who appeared as extras on an ITV show, Fat Friends. Johannah also worked as a chaperone on set, where she met James Corden.

Louis had a few TV roles as well, including an extra part in the film If I Had You and in the drama series Waterloo Road.

In the early 2000s, Johannah likely earned £18K–22K a year as a midwife, depending on her band, plus extra income from her chaperone work. Mark’s base salary would’ve been slightly above minimum wage, so around £15K, with commissions potentially doubling or even tripling that, bringing his total income to £30K–60K+.

Together, their combined income would have ranged from £50K to £82K+ annually.

For context, the median household income in Doncaster in 2024 was around £24K. In the 2000s, that figure was likely even lower, meaning the Tomlinsons' combined income would have easily doubled or even tripled the local average.

This was reflected in their lifestyle. The family regularly went on vacations, and Louis went to France every single year since he was born.

Sometimes twice a year…

Going to France every year, sometimes twice a year, for a big family of seven would be nearly impossible for a financially struggling family. While it's not super expensive for a British family to go to France, the frequency and size of the trips suggest the Tomlinsons were financially comfortable, not struggling.

In fact, Louis even taught Harry how to ski—though Harry was supposed to be “the posh one”... Skiing is definitely not a cheap hobby, further highlighting the Tomlinsons' financial stability.

Louis owned a Clio as a teenager, and his girlfriend at the time, Hannah, confirmed it on Twitter. Although her account has since been deleted, you can still find a link to the tweet.

For Americans, this might not seem that significant, but in the UK, it's much less common for teenagers—especially those from lower-income backgrounds—to own a car. In fact, a 2017 poll showed that only 55% of people aged 18-29 owned any car or motor vehicle (including bikes). And that’s up to age twenty-nine.

In the UK, you can't drive until you're 17. By 2012, only 10% of 17-year-olds had a driver's license, according to the Department for Transport.

This highlights how rare it was for Louis to not only drive but also own his own car. If he was able to sell it when he moved to London with One Direction, then it clearly wasn’t a family car.

Louis also owned a mid-tier smartphone, a laptop with editing software (for uploading covers to his YouTube channel), gaming consoles, and expensive clothes. He took acting lessons and even owned a keyboard.

The Tomlinsons lived in a detached house in Bessacarr, the most expensive part of Doncaster. Detached houses are typically the most desirable types of property since they don't share walls with neighbors. In contrast, semi-detached homes and terraced houses are more common in working-class areas.

A TikToker from the area did a tour of Louis’ childhood home and his grandparents’ house (neither of which are owned by the family anymore). The Tomlinsons had owned the detached house since at least Lottie’s early childhood.

I want to make this clear: none of this means his family was wealthy, nor does it erase their working-class status. The area they lived in, their family history, and the jobs they held were all firmly working class. With such a large family, they likely faced financial difficulties, especially when Louis was younger.

What this does negate, however, is Louis’ repeated claims of severe financial hardship—his insistence that they were a low-income family who couldn’t afford anything.

Louis' constant emphasis on his struggles feels forced, like a strategy to appear relatable despite being a millionaire charging fans—who are actually struggling, in some cases—premium prices. His image is a caricature, and we’ll continue to deconstruct it. He didn’t just exaggerate; he outright lied about some of these claims.

At some point, I may dedicate a post to Harry’s background, but for now, it’s important to note that while he was marketed as “posh,” he actually came from a working-class family, facing many of the same struggles as Louis. Although his family lived in more affluent areas for part of his childhood, his childhood home was a terraced house, described as “humble” in publications.

Before settling in Holmes Chapel, Harry’s family lived in Evesham and above a pub in Northwich, both of which were far less affluent. His parents separated when he was seven, and his mother remarried, only to separate again when Harry was twelve. Both Harry and his sister, Gemma, were latchkey kids due to their mother's long working hours.

Robin, Harry's stepdad, didn’t come into his life until Harry was 13/14, and they didn’t marry until Harry was 19. By then, Harry had been in 1D for years. While Robin was wealthier, he was only a significant presence in Harry’s life for a very short period prior to the band.

So why was Harry marketed as “posh”? Every pop band has a “posh” member. In Take That, it was Gary Barlow. In the Spice Girls, they went all in and literally nicknamed Victoria Adams “Posh Spice.” It’s a strategy to ensure all audiences have someone they can relate to. But since all the members of One Direction were decidedly working class, the closest one to “posh” was Harry—simply by virtue of living in a slightly more affluent area. (Crewe, where Holmes Chapel is located, has a median income just £2K above Doncaster’s, so while property and education were definitely “higher level,” it was nowhere near the vast difference we were led to believe).

Perceptions of British social class aside, Louis and Harry’s financial realities were strikingly similar. In fact, on paper, Louis seemed to live with a bit more luxury—at least until Robin entered the picture.

THE HAMMERING

Louis was marketed by 1D’s team as the “working-class lad,” with a heavy emphasis on financial struggles and his family background. While this wasn’t his responsibility, once he went solo, he fully embraced it, making it a core part of his brand.

It’s normal to mention your background in interviews, but what’s odd is when it appears in every single one of them. Take this one from Noisey (now Vice) in 2017, where he’s introduced as:

The fact that Louis’ background was so average, so relatable, was already inherently part of his appeal. Rather than trying to shrug off his working class Northern roots, he vehemently embraced them. There was nothing about Louis that screamed ‘showbiz.’ He didn’t come from money. He hadn’t been to Brit School.

They then position him as the opposite of the other 1D members, especially Harry. (They even link an article where they snobbishly criticize Harry, but I won’t dive into that here to avoid getting derailed.)

Even today, seven years later, when he couldn’t live a life further from what he grew up knowing, he clings onto his background with an almost commendable stubbornness. While the others from the band—particularly Harry Styles and Zayn Malik, and even Liam Payne to a certain degree—seem to revel in the starry sheen of pop fame by dating other high-profile figures, being seen on the front row at fashion shows or stumbling out of A-list parties and having the sort of meticulously crafted marketing campaigns that are designed to create intrigue, Louis has always appeared to shy away from that side of things; with one foot cautiously dipped into the lifestyle, and the other firmly on the ground.

Louis would then go on about Doncaster, how his mates kept him grounded, and how he doesn’t like the Hollywood party scene. That’s basically the theme of every interview he’s had since, up until today.

I can’t think of anything more boring than going through all of Louis’ interviews in detail, so I’ll just share short snippets with sources of a few of them instead.

HYPEBEAST - 2023

Many know Louis Tomlinson as a Doncaster lad-turned-pop-icon and part of era-defining boyband, One Direction. But despite his superstar status, the 31-year-old has never lost touch with his relaxed Northern soul. It’s been central to everything he puts his mind to, from music to football… and now, fashion.

That’s how it starts, btw.

FAR OUT MAGAZINE - 2019

His working-class Yorkshire heritage, he told me, is what has made him the man he is today: “You’ve got to be fucking humble where we’re from you know what I mean? Because otherwise you get called out like ‘who the fuck do you think you are?’”. The greatest takeaway from our conversation is that Louis Tomlinson is still that music enthusiast that entered the music industry in 2010 who, despite all the success and fame, has managed to stay grounded.

A music enthusiast who hasn’t learned how to play a single instrument in 15 years and cannot talk about songwriting coherently for the life of him. Sure. Whatever you say.

THE GUARDIAN - 2017

Tomlinson gives the example of how he first became famous. Born in Doncaster in 1991 he was raised by his mother, Johannah Deakin, and later also by her new partner Mark Tomlinson. (...)  And as a self-aware northerner, from a proudly working class family (...)

“Later also,” the wording implies much later, not at TWO YEARS OLD. I also thought they might not mention his family was working class in one interview. Alas.

THE GUARDIAN - 2019

As a child, growing up in Doncaster with his mum Johannah, who raised him alone until she married Tomlinson’s stepfather, he loved performing. “I liked to be the class clown, I liked to make people laugh, to show off, all that.” When his younger twin sisters were cast on TV dramas, he would sometimes go along as their chaperone, earning £30. “Where I’m from, we don’t have anyone who’s been on TV or anything like that, so it was super-exciting,” he says. He ended up picking up work as an extra. “The pinnacle of my acting career was one line on an ITV drama. I don’t even know if they used my scene,” he says with a laugh. When he was 15, he joined a drama group in Barnsley, which his mum would take him to when she could afford it. “I think I was confused, thinking I wanted to act when actually what I wanted to do was perform.”

Once again, minimizing the role of his stepfather to paint this picture of a single mom. Mark raised him for SIXTEEN YEARS. Johannah was a single mom for TWO.

She took him to lessons “when she could afford it.” The constant drilling of these financial struggles drips drips drips from every single word in every single interview. This interview in particular will be brought up later again.

THE GUARDIAN - 2022

I worked at Doncaster Rovers as the guy you bought the pies off. We had a little scheme. If the pie fell on the floor, even foil side up, it couldn’t be sold. I didn’t have a lot of money at the time, so a lot went overboard, because the pies were banging. I’ve not been on a night out in Doncaster for years. It’s a combination of being too busy and the fact there’s always a chancer who wants to give you a slap. I don’t want to get my head kicked in. I’m low-maintenance. I don’t have any major diva requests. As long as I’ve got coffee and cigarettes, I’m sound.

THE TELEGRAPH - 2022

Scruffily unshaven, in gym wear and trainers, the 30-year-old hops up to open a window, while chatting away in a friendly and engaged manner. “I never really chose this life,” he insists, with a strong Doncaster accent (though he lives in Hertfordshire now). “I auditioned for X Factor and crossed me fingers. And now, here I am.”

In. Every. Interview. He has to tack that in. He just has to.

METRO - 2022

“That’s the sound that I would say defined growing up for me. That kind of music is big in the North of England full stop and especially in working class town-forward-slash-just-been-made-a-city Doncaster. I spent a lot of my time as a young lad in this indie bar called Priory, and that’s how I discovered a lot about music that I’ve grown up to love.”

This one is hilarious, because the question was about what type of music he liked and why. He could be asked what he had for breakfast and he’d reply, “Well, as a working-class lad from Doncaster...” To be perfectly honest? I presume he already has said something to that effect.

“UNDER THE TONGUE”, Adidas Documentary - 2024

“We didn’t have a load of money when I were younger, so I didn’t have great boots growing up. Like anyone who didn’t have a pair of Predators, of course I always aspired to have a pair.”

It’s a 2-minute appearance and he manages to sneak that in. Insanity.

This talking point is persistent in everything he does. Even in stuff like his track-by-track commentary, particularly for his second album, FitF.

The man wore hammer and sickle clothes, for crying out loud.

The literal communist symbol. I’m not here to do the meme...

But I am here to tell you that a communist Louis Tomlinson is not. He exploits his fans, especially his most ardent ones, who tend to be the ones who suffer economic hardships the most—the ones he’s trying to be relatable to. The ones who see themselves in his inane discourse. But we’ll get to that.

His whole “anarchy” as an asthetic—particularly as a tattoo— is grating as fuck.

Louis is a multi-millionnaire who hoards wealth through very little hardship and who nowadays makes a ton of money with the least amount of effort. This goes against the very fabric of the anarchist movement.

He’s also a very proud Englishman who even in fucking INDIA pointed to a fan wearing an England shirt in the audience:

Overt nationalism coming from a self-ascribed anarchist, particularly from one who comes from a colony system as cruel and long-lived as the British Empire over India, is the exact opposite of what anarchism stands for.

Remember when he did an entire music video for his main solo single in 2017 in Doncaster:

Whatever, cool, if it wasn’t for the fact that it came with an entire round of press with this as a central talking point. And a behind the scenes music video where the main focus is once again, Doncaster and how working class it is.

He also wrote a couple of songs about this or related to it, particularly Common People:

And with this song, we start the next section.

THE LIES

If he was simply hyper-focused on this upbringing of his—despite the fact that he’s spent about half his life living as a millionnaire already and well, everything else I’ve already covered, it’d be a little comical, whatever, but he outright lies and exaggerates constantly.

The lyrics to Common People... the only reason he gets away with these lies is that he’s not successful enough for non-fans to notice, and his fans would jump off a building if he asked them to.

I came from a good home A house full of terraced dreams That was enough for me You know, you had to see it to believe

You... you didn’t live in a terraced house, Louis. You lived in a quite big detached house in Bessaccar, with a two-income household that doubled (maybe even tripled) the median for the area. WHY ARE YOU OUTRIGHT LYING? You know who lived in terraced/semi-detached houses? ALL OF YOUR 1D BANDMATES. And NONE OF THEM made their working-class background their entire personality!

It’s insidious, the way he lies. In his documentary, he has his grandparents talk about how little money his mom had and how they lived in a little apartment. Then Louis says that his biological dad left him and he was alone with his mom, but that he didn’t “miss the love of a father” because his mom “doubled that.”

Then Lottie talks about how he had four sisters, and Louis takes over and says he loved being “the only lad.” The implication being here that his mother was taking care of five children on her own. That there was no father.

All of this conversation happens over footage of Louis, his mom, and his sisters. He completely erases his stepfather from a huge chunk of his life. A stepfather that was there for him since he was two. There are not even pictures of Mark during this segment, a feat that was probably quite hard to accomplish, considering he was literally there. This was part of an extended trailer for the documentary, meaning the part most people would watch (from 2 mins on).

Of course, you could try to find a way to justify it, somehow. Maybe he’s not on good terms with his stepdad? Maybe his stepdad did something or something happened, and Louis made the operative decision not to include him for that reason? But his stepdad is in the documentary. In fact, he shows up right after this section to talk about Louis auditioning for Grease when he was a teenager.

So, the decision to completely erase his stepdad—the man who adopted him and gave him his last name when he was a toddler—from a huge chunk of his life, specifically highlighting his and his mom’s struggles, is simply glaring. It’s obviously purposeful. It’s trying to rewrite history and present a completely different reality. One could maybe overlook it as a strange decision, but with no ulterior motives, if Louis hadn’t spent the last several years of his solo career continuously underlining his “struggles” every step of the way.

But he does. Victimization is one of his biggest tools, and being “a working class lad” is at the forefront of this image.

He lied when he said that his mom took him to drama class “when she could afford it” considering in other interviews he said he just wasn’t consistent with it.

He talked about not being able to afford expensive clothes, but he... did.... he owned expensive clothes. He didn’t own designer clothes. But he owned expensive clothes. He even tweeted about buying them before joining the band.

He lied when he said that he couldn’t afford the boots he wanted. Louis you had multiple jobs. You were well-off enough to afford a car. Don’t piss me the fuck off. Maybe your mom didn’t think it was a good idea to spend £150 on overpriced boots, when perfectly good ones could go for as cheap as £60 to £30, but that’s called BEING MIDDLE CLASS. It’s not, “we didn’t have a lot of money.”

He’s so detached from reality that he thinks not being able to splash out buying Predator Adidas is somehow a class signifier. LOUIS, MOST KIDS HAD PARENTS WHO WOULD REFUSE THAT SORT OF SHALLOW SPENDING.

The way he frames things, the way he insists on this talking point. He probably has bought his own lies at this point. There are a ton of others, but they’re smaller. Just white lies. It’d take me forever to break them down one by one, but the thing about them is that they add up to create a picture that simply isn’t true.

THE SHADE

He uses this marketing strategy of his to throw shade at... well, at a lot of people. You’ve seen how one of the earliest articles of his solo career positioned him against Harry, Liam, and Zayn. Also against the obscure figure of “the A-list celebrity.” Against popstars.

Mainly, though, his antagonist is Harry. He throws a lot of shade towards Harry, but never with his chest.

Remember that 2019 The Guardian interview that I said would come up again?

“If I went back to Doncaster and I was dripping in Gucci or whatever, I’d probably get whacked. I’m always very conscious of not acting too big for my boots. It’s the people around me who keep me sane and normal, because they give me insight into real life.”

He said that in September 2019, just a couple of weeks after Harry became the most visible Gucci ambassador and the face of their gender neutral fragrance

But shade aside, because that was 100% purposeful, just two years before saying this... he was dripping with Gucci, and Stella McCartney, and Off White... where? Yep, in Doncaster.

And his “mates” were right there...

And no, it wasn’t an isolated event. He wore Gucci a ton of times. He wore Gucci when hanging out with friends, walking down the street, at concerts, etc. It wasn’t that a stylist put him in a brand and he had no idea or anything like that.

The man, to this day, wears a ton of designer clothes. Prada, Alexander Wang, Burberry, Balenciaga, Givenchy, Armani. Dior, Balmain, Ralph Lauren. There’s nothing wrong with that, of course. The problem is that he acts like wearing these clothes would be that he’d be ashamed to be caught doing. As if he was the opposite of everything Harry represents (something that The Mayor of the Hags constantly drones about).

It’s extremely hypocritical because he does the same thing.

Harry just wears cute clothes, mostly. Sometimes trippy. Louis wears sweatpants that cost a fortune for no reason. Which is fine—he’s a filthy rich celebrity. JUST FUCKING OWN IT, MAN.

A few months after Harry’s debut album came out—a concise record that was 10 tracks long and lasted 40:18 mins—Louis was asked if his debut album would have more than 10 tracks, to which he replied:

That... that is not how music works. Music is art. The important part of music is that it’s good, that it moves something in you, that you enjoy it. If anything, the important part of it in terms of value is if it has replay. I’ve legit never seen anyone else say “value for money” in terms of tracks on an album. He’s so fucking try-hard and corny.

ANYWAY, Louis’ debut album, despite the Communist King’s comments, did have more than 10 tracks... 12, to be exact. It was, incidentally, shorter than HS1, clocking at 39:30 mins. So, by Louis’ own definition, I guess that’s... not value for money?

We covered the other instances of shade already, like when he shaded Harry for not taking drugs while he was in 1D. And there are, of course, others, but they’re not necessarily tied to this whole class/money thing—that I can remember! If you have more examples, feel free to send them over and I’ll add them.

His fans do the heavy lifting for him on this topic. Because he has repeated these talking points so many times that they automatically attack Harry with them.

Louis has somehow convinced them that when he pisses on them, it’s rain. Because make no mistake, The Communist King, pisses on his fans. And that’s what we’ll talk about in part II.

THE STANDARD INTERVIEW

So, we arrived at the last part of this post. It’s funny because I started writing it before this interview came out.

[The following few paragraphs are background info on the writer and the publication. If you want to skip to the interview analysis, you can!

It was written by Joe Bromley, Fashion Editor at The Standard. Bromley’s career dates back to ES Magazine, a key publication in cultural influence. He joined The Evening Standard in 2021 and became junior writer in 2023, with a meteoric rise to editor. He’s also contributed to Lampoon Mag, Yahoo UK, and The Irish Independent. The Evening Standard is a reputable publication in its own right.

Of course, Louis’ fans tried to claim that Bromley is “a Harrie” or was paid by Harry’s team to write such a negative piece. The evidence for this? A year ago, he wrote one article about Harry. It’s not overtly positive and has some snide comments and shade, but it leans positive overall. Otherwise, there’s no connection between them. Bromley doesn’t even follow Harry on social media. He does follow Harry Lambert (Harry’s stylist) and Alessandro Michele, but both are designers, so, as a Fashion Editor, it’s his job to follow them.

Naturally, no one can organically be bemused by Louis’ ridiculous attempt at branding. Joe must be on someone’s payroll!

Why would Harry’s team care to do this? Well, The Hags have somehow convinced themselves that, despite Louis’ solo career going nowhere while Harry’s has skyrocketed, Harry (or his team) is somehow very threatened by Louis and his potential. They can’t explain why anyone—let alone Harry Styles—would be threatened by someone who can’t sing, can’t play any instruments, has the charisma of a cardboard box, and takes zero care of his physical appearance. But, you know, if you repeat something enough times, even if you can’t back it up, it becomes reality.]

Louis describes himself as “chavvy.” This isn’t the first time he’s done this—he’s used the term multiple times.

And this, this misuse of the term chav and what it implies, is exactly why his whole persona is so problematic.

A chav is not simply a young person from a working-class background whose parents didn’t allow them to buy Adidas Predators. A chav is a term that implies actual struggle. It implies growing up on a council estate or a deprived neighborhood, not being able to afford food, lacking access to proper education, enduring an unstable home environment, and growing up surrounded by violence. It implies being unsafe and ostracized by society.

Louis faced none of this. He grew up in a stable, two-parent, two-income household that earned double the median income, with access to technology, education, and a supportive family. He lived in a beautiful, affluent neighbourhood. He owned a fucking car. He might have been a little rowdy and couldn’t afford very expensive boots—that doesn’t make him a chav.

A regular person could describe themselves as a chav without “earning it,” and we could have a lighthearted discussion on whether that’s appropriate. But Louis isn’t a regular person. He’s been crafting this persona for years. He’s been building this fake background since he first went solo, and now, as a fucking millionaire, he’s using it as an excuse to sell overpriced apparel to young girls.

To some degree, it’s reminiscent of the conversation about Harry and queerness. So, why is it problematic for Louis to do this and not for Harry? There are three main reasons.

Harry hasn’t claimed an identity that doesn’t belong to him. In fact, he’s deliberately not claimed any. Queerness isn’t something we can physically measure—it’s something inherent that can change and evolve. No one could assert that he’s lying if he did claim it, but the fact is, he hasn’t. Louis, on the other hand, has. Loudly, repeatedly. He slapped the chav label on himself, a label that can be physically measured, and one he decidedly hasn’t earned.

What Harry adopted is an aesthetic. Aesthetics can’t be copyrighted, and there’s nothing inherently problematic about adopting one. In fact, it would be problematic to assume someone is part of a specific community because of the clothes they wear. If Louis had simply adopted a “chav aesthetic,” it might be a little cringe at his 33 years of age, but there’d be nothing wrong with it.

Harry is not ascribing or perpetuating negative stereotypes to queerness or to the aesthetic surrounding it... As you’re about to see, Louis is.

This caricature Louis creates only serves to denigrate and vilify the working class he wants to use for his image. The portrayal of being loud, irresponsible, constantly partying, not dressing up for events, cursing inappropriately, and showing disinterest in culture is rooted in harmful stereotypes. It normalizes them, especially for his global audience, many of whom wouldn’t fully understand what the term even means.

“There’s a very, very chavvy aesthetic in Doncaster, at least when I was growing up. That’s exactly who I am and the kind of stuff that I like.”

This quote highlights exactly what’s wrong with his persona. For most people deemed “chavs” in the real world, it’s not an aesthetic—it’s their lives. It’s their prospects for the future. It’s the violence they face every day, the deprivation, and the pain of broken households. They can’t just put on a “chav costume” and use it to sell overpriced, glorified merch to teenagers, then take it off when it’s no longer convenient.

“I don’t think it’s a bad word, not to me.”

Well, it doesn’t matter what it means to you, Louis. I know it might be hard to believe, but you’re not the center of the universe. What matters is what the term means culturally and the negative connotations it carries. The term chav is generally deemed as social racism. Its connotations are overwhelmingly negative—they have affected entire generations of low-income men and women. And you’re helping prolong the stigma.

“To me it’s about culture. It might mean other things to other people.”

What culture? You know nothing about culture. You’ve admitted you don’t read books, explore cities, try new foods, or listen to other genres of music. In this very interview, you even admitted you can’t name a single thing you like about London—one of the most culturally rich cities in the world, where you’ve lived for almost half your life. You also admitted you wouldn’t even know where to move if you wanted to.

You have no grasp of culture. You’re entitled, privileged, and have the narrowest view of the world. It’s not that “chav” might mean other things to other people—it’s that it does. But you wouldn’t know that, because that would require you to take your eyes off your own navel for two seconds.

Your understanding of the world and what being working class means hasn’t evolved since you were 18. You don’t have an adult perspective on the cultural and socioeconomic struggles that come with being low income and marginalized. It’s why you equate not being able to buy Adidas Predators with “not having money.” You didn’t experience actual deprivation or marginalization as a child, had everything you could ever wish for as soon as you became an adult, and never showed an ounce of curiosity to dig deeper or gain at least an outsider’s perspective.

You’re a fraud. The editor of The Standard saw right through you. That’s why he pointed out your actual height and the fact that you wear concealer. It’s why he implied that you weren’t being genuine when you went on about loving your fans’ invasive attitude. It’s why he demeaned your clothing line and your environment.

Your fans will continue to make excuses for your shortcomings. They’ll keep blaming everyone else for it—your management, your label, your PR agent, your friends, your sisters, Harry Styles, Harry Styles’ team, Harry Styles’ fans—anyone but the real culprit: YOU.

Everyone else sees right through it.

Part II should be up shortly. And, if I dare say so myself, it’s particularly cutting.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA in this friendship? give me a minute here, it's more complicated than it sounds

I'm 19 years old, female. So there's this friend, we'll call her B (also 19F). We've been friends for years, since elementary. We've been good friends for that time, I thought.

But especially during high school, it was hard to spend time with her. She was always convinced the friend group hated her even though all I'd ever hear was that they liked her and were confused/frustrated/hurt as to why she thought that. She's always had a lot of mental illness going on (depression, anxiety, ADHD, etc) so I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. She spent most of her time in another part of the school refusing to spend time with me or the friend group saying she wanted "alone time" even though she was surrounded by other friends.

I knew she was feeling unwanted within the friend group, so I tried to spend time with her when she would let me. But it kind of alienated me from the rest of the friend group so I spent a good portion of my lunches alone. Plus, even though she would say its ok for me to be there, sometimes it felt like she hated me and my presence. But then she would turn around and tell me I was the only one she could be truly honest with, etc, etc.

The reason I tried not to pay too much heed to the idea that she might really hate being my friend is because I also struggle with anxiety pretty badly. I've been working really really hard to just listen to what people tell me, because I can't trust what I'm telling me.

But this feeling continued after high school, and it felt like there was something I didn't know, like she secretly hated me and only put up with me.

Almost every time I would invite her to do something, she would try to invite someone else too. That's fine, but when it happens almost every time... it made me feel like I was unwanted.

I got really clingy. I'll admit that. I texted her often (most days a week) and would get anxious when she didn't respond within a couple of hours, leading to me double, triple texting most of the time. She told me not to text her during work, but how am I supposed to know for sure? She told me her hours once, but I have no record of it and I don't expect her to memorize my schedule so I feel like that's unfair. Plus, if I didn't press for an answer, I often wouldn't get one at all or wouldn't get one for days. Like one time I tried to schedule a time to hang out a few weeks in advance. She told me she would get back to me, but then the day before, still nothing. I texted over and over again, trying to get an answer, until she got mad at me for texting so much and told me she didn't think hanging out would work out. But the point is I got clingy, in a way that I understand made her anxious.

My anxiety got the better of me and I decided to stop contacting her. I held to it for a couple of months, aside from wishing her happy christmas/new years. But my birthday came and went for the second year in a row without a word, and I decided I needed to talk to her about it.

I did, and although she refused to do it in person like I wanted, I thought it was a pretty good conversation. She told me about a couple things I was doing to make her uncomfortable. I promised to work on those and being less clingy. I told her I need her to be honest about the things that bother her, and she said she needed time to work on that skill. She said she was thinking a month, maybe less, so i agreed not to contact her first during that time and she promised to contact me soon.

I didn't hear from her for three months. I finally broke down and texted her, asking to talk it out and telling her this arrangement wasn't working for me. She didn't respond for almost a week. I needed peace of mind, so I said I was done with waiting and I would be open to rekindling the friendship later, but I wasn't going to hold my foot in the door for her any longer. No response again.

I remembered I owed her money and asked her when would be a good time to drop it off (it was not like five bucks, it was a fair amount of money so I didn't want to like leave it on a doorstep or something). No response again for a day. I told her if I didn't hear from her in a couple of days I was going to keep the money.

She finally responded a day later, saying she didn't have the energy for a "high maintenance" friendship and to leave the money in her mailbox.

I don't know who was at fault here. I mean, I was clingy and I ended the friendship, but she didn't give me a chance to change and didn't stick to her word. But I don't know if contacting her again after those three months was clingy? I really don't know, and the end of this friendship has been tormenting me. I just want to know who was at fault and then I can deal with it, but I honestly don't know.

Also, WIBTA for contacting B again and trying to rekindle the friendship?

Please do not ask multiple questions in a single submission. It just confuses things and makes it hard for people to vote in the poll.

[whorekneecentral]

Bubbles

Thiago Alcantara x Fem!Reader

Warnings: husband thiago is sooooo real, super cheesy and in love couples, bubble baths, thiago has wandering hands, grinding (sorta?), penetrative sex (p in v), cream pies, surprise ending, thiago is so unserious at the end for a second lmao.

Word Count: 1,700 (I love when this happens, so satisfying)

Author's Note: this pic of Thiago has nothing to do with this, he just looks so !!!

merry smutmas series

--

You find yourself aching from all the holiday prep and your husband being the good man that he was, makes sure you’re feeling okay after a long day. 

The holidays are a big thing in your family, it's the one time of the year that all of you, and I mean, all of you are together. You rotated through the houses over the years and this year was your year to host the Christmas festivities.

Thiago was left at home with strict instructions on what to do, you had left him with the giant box of lights to untangle and put up around the house and the yard.

You, on the other hand, had gone out to pick up various gifts for your nieces and nephews.

After what felt like a million years, your feet were surly swollen and the trunk and back seats were full, you headed home.

Your husband was coming off the ladder when you pulled into the driveway, the man rushing over to open your door. "How was shopping, baby?" He asks, his hand in yours as you get out of the car.

Shrugging, you hand him your car keys. "Exhausting."

Thiago smiles; he often joked that spending his money was one of your favourite pastimes, which was true but in moderation of course.

"Be a darling and bring in the bags?" You asked him and he nodded, opening the trunk. You give your husband a kiss, making your way into the house.

You followed your husband up the stairs to the guest bedroom, Thiago sets what he brought in with the rest of the stuff you had put in there. Though it was a guest room, you used it for whatever you wanted, during the holidays it became your space to wrap your gifts and hide them until it was time to put them under the tree.

He notices your hand on your lower back, rubbing it softly. "Something wrong, mi vida?"

"My back's just sore, too much walking I suppose." You wave him off, knowing he worries far too much. Thiago's brows pull together, a small wrinkle developing on his forehead.

"We can't have that, can we?" He says, his hands reaching for you.

You aren't sure what he's up to but it's typically some sort of no good mischief. You don't get a chance to escape your husband, the man picking you up and over his shoulder you went.

This was a usual between the two of you, Thiago swings you around like a sack of potatoes and you're a giggling mess as always.

He carries you into the bathroom, setting you down on the counter before turning around to fill the bathtub. The hot water creates a cloud of steam, Thiago pours in the lavender scented bubble bath into the water. As that forms into a mountain of bubbles, Thiago helps you off of the counter, stripping you off until your clothes are in a pile on the floor.

"You don't have to do all this," you tell him, the man holds your hand and helps you into the tub.

"I want to, you deserve some relaxation before everyone gets here." He tells you, bending down to give you a kiss. You hum, letting the warm water relax your body.

Thiago smiles, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "Let me know if you need anything, princesa."

Your hand stretched out, grabbing his. "Stay, please." You scoot forward, making space for him to get in. Who was he to say no to you, especially when you were the picture of beauty?

"Of course."

He undresses, his clothes joining yours on the floor before he gets into the tub, settling in and is now sandwiched between you and the porcelain of the tub. His arms wrap around you, letting you rest against his chest. "I'm not squishing you, am I ?"

"No," he chuckled, "Kos tackles me all the time, this is a walk in the park, corazón."

You playfully rolled your eyes at the mention of the Greek player. "How dare you speak of your husband while you're with me."

Thiago can't help the laugh. "Right, sorry. I forget how jealous you can be." He whispers, nibbling at your ear softly. You hum, giggling.

"Speaking of him though, what are you getting him for Christmas? I saw the cutest sweater that I know he'd love but I wasn't sure if you had anything in mind?"

Your husband hums, listening to you prattle on about what gifts you bought for who, suggestions on gifts for his teammates and he tunes out at some point, finding a much more interesting past time.

His lips find your neck, trialing up and down with soft kisses. The week old stubble scratches at your skin, surely leaving behind a red mark.

"T.." you mumbled, a hand reaching back to rest on his jaw.

He hums into your shoulder, pressing a kiss to it. "What, mi amor?"

"Behave."

"How am I meant to behave when you're naked on my lap?"

You roll your eyes at this response, Thiago was like a teenager sometimes; handsy and annoying. Regardless, you loved him with your whole heart.

It takes you a second, shifting to face your husband. You straddled him, arms over his shoulders and you can feel Thiago's hands slide up the curve of your spine. Your eyes meet his, his eyebrows go up as he waits for your next move.

"You're such a sweet talker."

He hums, a proud smile on his face, "it's true."

Rolling your eyes, you let him pull you flush against him. Thiago closes the gap, his lips meeting yours and you instantly melt, giving yourself over to him.

You were putty in his hands.

Your hand cups his jaw, kissing him or rather making out like teenagers, all messy and entangled, not sure where you end and Thiago starts. His thumb brushing over your skin softly. He smiles at you, wondering how he got so lucky.

Not everyone gets to have someone they love in their life and he was lucky enough to find that in you.

His hands rest on your hips, rocking you on his lap; back and forth very slowly. His head leaned back and he lifted his hips buck slightly. The sudden change caused you to slide forward, clit rubbing against the tip of his cock.

The sound that left your mouth was like heaven on earth to him.

“Que linda,” (how cute) he coos, pushing your hair back off your shoulders. “So good for me.”

You nod, pushing down on his thigh a little harder. “Let me hear all those pretty sounds, you don’t have to be quiet, mi vida.”

It only spiralled from there; hands all over each other, you’re both impatient, wanting more than you can get too at the moment. 

Thiago scoots you back on his lap, letting you position yourself properly before you sink down onto his cock.

He bucks his hips and your nails drop down from his shoulders to the scratches along his back. He lets out a groan, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

"Oh god," you mumble, thighs on either side of the man as you roll your hips, arms over his shoulders. The water ripples with each bounce, the floor soaked and the bubbles slipping over the side of the porcelain.

One of your hands tangles in the hair at the nape of his neck, giving it a solid tug; you're thanking whatever god convinced him not to get a haircut, his curls thick enough for you to grab onto. He tilts his head back, a soft groan slipping from his lips when he feels your own lips meet his skin.

“Fuck, do that again.” He mumbles, feeling you clench around him. 

Soon enough he can feel your hands on his shoulders, letting you set your own pace, bouncing on his cock as your nails dug into the back of his shoulders; surely leaving behind red marks. 

“Thiago,” you whimpered, forehead pressed to his.

He nods, kissing you softly. "I know, amor, I'm here."

He feels you clench around him, your hips stuttering and he knows you’re close. Thiago's hand moving from your mouth to between the two of you, fingers rubbing circles over your clit and your head falls onto his shoulder, biting down to muffle the sounds slipping past your lips. 

You both knew the other was equally as close, orgasm on the verge of happening. His hand shifted to grab your chin, pulling your focus back to him. “Look at me when you cum.” 

His words were enough to push you over the edge, Thiago following quickly after you. 

You fall flat against him and he lets you sit on top of him for a bit, his hand rubbing around your back softly, fingers tracing random shapes into your skin.

"The water's cold," he whispers after a few moments, most of it was on the floor to be fair.

You hum, taking that as you signal to get up and get out of the tub. Thiago helps you out carefully, holding your hand so you don't slip on the spilt water.

The towel's warm, wrapped around your body as Thiago leans down to wipe away the water on the floor.

"I'm pregnant," you tell him.

Thiago turns around so fast, he nearly falls over. "What? I don't think it happens that fast, babe." He jokes, referring to the activities from moments ago.

"No jackass," you huffed, rolling your eyes playfully. You reached into the drawer of your vanity to pull out the test, the positive pregnancy test. "Confirmed it last week, I'm 2 months along."

You watch his face as he looks at the test in disbelief, there's a million emotions on his face at once. You're chewing at your bottom lip nervously before you see a smile on his face.

"You're pregnant?" He asks, setting the test on the counter.

You nod, "I'm pregnant."

Thiago picks you up, squeezing you tightly but already being cautious of your tummy. "This is the best Christmas gift I could ever wish for."

"You see that as if you asked Santa for a baby." You joked, leaning on your husband.

The man smiles, "almost did." He tells you, pressing a kiss to your temple.

--

for my fellow thiago lovers - @curiousthyme and @percervall

taglist: @nosugarallspice  @evieepepi08 @mimithepooh @koufaxx @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @topguncultleader @molliemoo3 @aisharmi @mamako23 @ac3may @lewislcver @miahgonzalez16  @books-and-netflix-pls  @wibi96 @bwddermilch @pedrisgatorade  @clarasenchant @sainzluvrr // @trentsfav @trentsmyfave @noturbabe22

[cloveroctobers]

rust — 11. Bode Leone ~ [Winter Prompts]

A/N: My newer pieces for bode don’t get as much attention so I’m writing this quickly in the sense of HC (notes I guess? my form!) s/o to the snow storm for giving me the motivation to write this 🩵

WARNINGS: childhood fears, freak accidents, and slight language?

PROMPTS ARE FROM HERE & I’m using: ACTIVITIES — Skiing & Taking pictures in the snow + SITUATIONS — Holidays in the hospital.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ᨒ↟ 𖠰. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ᨒ↟ 𖠰. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ᨒ↟ 𖠰. ݁₊ ⊹

Here is where you should have listened to your instincts and not have let your guard down.

Being back at these slopes was a triggering manner and everyone would have understood if you backed out but you didn’t want to break tradition.

You lost your (adopted) older sibling up on these slopes that the both of you snuck into during a brewing storm.

It wasn’t your idea and you were reluctant but your sibling—who was always the daredevil—convinced you that they knew these slopes well (they were dating the kid of the owner) and always did this once the colder weather came in.

They were so sure that everything would be fun and fine, despite the fact that a storm was coming in.

You told them they should have called their friends to hang out with instead, since you were not the biggest fan of snow and wasn’t the most athletic like your sibling but they chose spending their quality time with you that evening.

They were a senior, you were a sophomore and what was supposed to be, just kids being kids ultimately led to your siblings’ tragic passing.

It didn’t bother you as much until you all pulled up to the slopes and you got a good look at it. That’s when yours knees started to buckle, stomach cramped, palms sweaty beneath your thick gloves, and your chest felt tight.

“Hey, you okay?” Bode questions after his mom nudged her head in your direction, you were slowly pacing from the opposite side of the car, doing breathing exercises while the Leone family carried a conversation.

A humorless laugh slipped through your lips, “Never better, can’t you tell?”

Although you attempted to model out your all white fit in a funny manner, Bode saw right through it as he watched your elbow shake while you had your hand on your hip, with a weak pose.

He immediately grips your forearms, “You know there’s no pressure right? We’re just here to have fun and we’ll take it easy but if it’s too much…you let me know and we can get into something more chill instead.”

You simply smile, knowing this was a repeat of last night’s conversation as you lay in bed together, with Bode trying to see where your head was at. There was no way you were going to be the only party pooper and stay back at the cabin…alone.

Especially since you and Mrs. Sharon forced everyone to watch The Bodyguard last night and that scene with Niki always gave you nightmares.

You were sensitive to things like that, which is why you could never go into the medical field, although there was a time where you wanted to major in it—it ultimately did not work out in the case of your mental.

Snow tubing became more of your snow activity as you found the courage to take pictures with your new camera (that Bode surprised you with on Christmas! You hated that he spent this kind of money on you when he was just building his income back but he didn’t want to hear your concerns, he just wanted to see you smile) of Eve and Jake on their snowboards on the opposite route before you scrambled to stabilize yourself on the slope as it got bumpy towards the middle.

Everyone took turns keeping you company on the tubes but ofc the real action was with the skis and snowboards. Something you once liked participating in although you weren’t the best, you once enjoyed the freeing feeling of being on those slopes.

After browsing the photos you managed to get of Mrs. And Mr. Leone, Eve, Jake, and Bode, just examining their faces through the pictures reminded you of the feeling the slopes used to bring back when you were a child and back when your sibling was still alive.

That photo of the both of you cheesing at the end of the slopes, arms tossed over each others shoulders, that your adopted father snapped of you still sat in the entry way of your family’s home. They only came out to the slopes once a year to honor your sibling but it was no longer a place where they spent the winter anymore either.

“Wait up, I’m coming this time.” You say as the remaining faces turn to you at the lift.

Sharon and Vince were already up on the lift unaware of this decision, while Eve and Jake shared a glance and Bode waved them on to go ahead.

He waited for you as you locked up your camera and he was patient as he helped you into your skis. Exhaling your eyes meet the lift where a few were waiting in line for the next.

“Are you sure?”

“I have to,” you state meeting Bode’s sparkling eyes, “Not just for them but for me too. I can’t keep living in fear over what was lost.”

Bode gives you a slow grin, “There’s my girl. And you know I’m right there with you…if you need me that is.”

“Of course I do. I wouldn’t want anybody else beside me.”

Bode smirks, “Aw.”

“Shut up and help me.” You roll your eyes as Bode gently squeezes the back of your neck, “I haven’t been on these in ages.”

Bode laughs a little as he takes your hand, “Yes, ma’am.”

And just like that you’re above the slopes together, with you squeezing the life out of Bode’s knee but he squeezes yours back, timing it all for when it was time to let go.

In more ways than one.

Once you regain your balance on the snow, which you had to do pretty fast, you’re gliding down the slopes and although Bode can definitely pass you like you know he’s itching to, he keeps pace with you just like he promised.

It’s when there’s tears in your eyes and a carefree laugh that escapes your lips, that you realize that you found your courage again.

Bode loves to see it, encouraging you and relishing in the joy that’s on your face. It’s happy tears although you still miss your sibling, terribly, you knew this was something they always loved to do. Their bucket list was to conquer all the winter sports and you honestly believed that one day they truly would.

That joy becomes short lived as you bring your glance back over to your boyfriend, watching in horror as he stumbles over a uneven terrain, his attempts to recover from that don’t go unnoticed as he soon slips over some undercover patch of ice that sends him failing around, unable to keep his balance.

The first roll and impact, you can hear something crunch along with a crack and it isn’t the skiis. Bode keeps on tumbling and you can feel your heart struggling to beat.

Your screams are as loud as ever, catching other skiers attention and drawing the attention of his parents and your shared friends at the bottom of slope.

You’re spooked for a few seconds but bring yourself out of it as other skiers race to help.

“Bode!” You’re on your knees as you scoop his head into your arms, reminiscent to when you held your sibling’s broken body in your lap as the blizzard planned to bury you both.

He’s sweating after he tossed his insulated face mask to the side in an angry manner but he puts on a grimace of a smile as he takes in your tear stained face, “I’m alright. I—

“Don’t you dare say you promise to me right now!”

Emergency services manage to arrive about a minute later before the rest show up to strap bode in before assessing his injury.

Let’s just say the amount of blood and bone was not for the weak!

“Don’t go blamin’ yourself alright,” Jake says to you as you all stood at the car, “Bode’s strong and he wanted to be there with you when you were ready.”

Jake tried to provide you comfort before climbing into the driver’s seat but it was as if he hadn’t spoken.

Vince is in the passenger side, stressed but received the look Jake sent him, knowing that he would have to step in once you all arrived to the hospital.

The drive was certainly quiet enough compared to the initial ride up here and Eve was just happy enough to gain some feeling back in her hand once you let go.

Sharon didn’t even give the option to let you ride with Bode, which was another reason why you felt like it was your fault but she’s immediately apologetic once she gets a good look at you in the waiting room, embracing you and also taking Bode’s words into account on the ambulance ride.

“Mom, I don’t want her taking everything to heart. She’s just as scared as you, maybe even more and we got to make that right.”

Sharon’s never seen Bode love as hard as he did when he’s with you and the glint in his eye and the reassurance he had more for you than himself said enough.

“I could have responded better back there, gave the option on who should have rode with Bode here.”

You’re understanding, already knowing what the Leone family lost before as well.

“I’ll never hold that against you,” you say in Sharon’s arms, “It was probably best anyway…considering I almost upchucked as soon as the ambulance doors closed.”

“Oh yeah,” Sharon nods, “Still don’t have the best stomach huh?”

“Not in the slightest but I don’t know if I would have been able to keep it together enough for Bode so…no hard feelings.”

“Of course not, honey!”

Then you’re all in the hospital room where they’re just keeping Bode comfortable after running some tests and x-rays until the next orthopedic surgeon is available.

“Damn, Bode! I never thought I’d see the day where you would look like shit, dude.” Eve comments, earning a nudge from Jake and a glare from Sharon while Vince just shakes his head.

Bode scoffs, “Yeah, thanks Eve. Love you too.”

You’re right beside him but you won’t touch him, afraid that you’ll make it worse. Your eyes are lingering over his bandaged and covered leg and you can’t get the image out of your head.

“Hey, I’m going to be fine.”

“You don’t know that yet.” You whisper, “you’re all clammy and probably running a fever. Which I feel like…isn’t good sign.”

“That’s just my body trying to recover.” Bode shrugs although Sharon and Vince both share that knowing parent glance.

Vince leaves the room while Sharon tries not to interfere.

Bode can see that you’re not convinced and holds out a hand, “Holding your hand always makes me feel better, though.”

You scoff, “Uh uh, I’m keeping my hands to myself.”

“Please.”

At least he wasn’t too proud to beg!

You sigh, quickly slipping your hand into Bode’s clammy yet warm hand.

He gives your hand a squeeze and lets out a sigh himself as he shifts slightly uncomfortable on the bed before croaking out, “Ah, that’s better!”

Shaking your head at him, you can’t help but to brush his now curling hair back and press a quick kiss to his forehead.

It’s not long after that, the doctor comes back into the room with Mr. Leone right behind him.

He shows the x-rays up on the wall, informing that Bode experienced an open fracture and he’s definitely at risk for infection, which doesn’t settle the feeling in your chest or stomach. It’s determined that he’ll need surgery and you don’t hesitate to let them know that Bode doesn’t look the best, that he feels feverish.

The doctor takes his temperature again and checks his notes to see that his temperature has increased significantly since he got here, which never feels like a good sign.

It’s when he checks on the fracture that you all see that there’s significant swelling and it’s warm to the doctor’s touch. Immediately he’s calling on the nurses and once they arrive he tells them surgery cannot wait another hour or more. He wants to take care of it right away.

The nurses are quick at prepping and the doctor is talking in hushed tones outside the room with Sharon and Vince.

“Why don’t you take a picture?” Bode suggests now with a cap covering his hair.

Eve shakes her head and mutters to the friends, “Yeah man’s lost his mind for sure.”

Jake shrugs his shoulders, knowing what Bode is getting at as your eyes are wide with fear again.

“Are you insane?” You hiss at the foot of his bed now as the nurses work, “Sorry… it’s probably the fever rotting your brain.”

“Ouch.” Jake laughs as he stands beside you, already holding your camera for you.

Bode echoes a laugh, “I’ll take your snark anyday, baby. I mean a picture before I get rolled away into surgery is a badass story I’d love to tell our kids one day…Plus I’ll look much more cooler now than when I’m in a stupid cast.”

Your breathing hitches before you feel your own body fill with warmth. Although you and Bode took forever to get here, being an official couple, and you’ve known each other since you were kids yourselves…this was the first time kids were brought up in your relationship.

You decide with a warning in your eyes, “…Fine but just one.”

“That’s all I need,” Bode jokes while Eve groans and you match her annoyance with a roll of your eyes.

With shaky hands you take the camera from Jake. He gives your shoulders a squeeze before stepping out of the way to give you space.

Bringing the lens up to your eye, you close the other one, zooming into one focal view. Bode looks pale, forehead glimmering with sweat, body slumped, yet there’s crinkles by the corner of his sparkling eyes. He’s smiling but it’s mostly for you and it’s not a wide one by any means but it’s enough as he folds his bulging arms, showing he still has fight in him.

He was right, one picture is all that you needed.

And you find yourself staring at it for a long time while you all wait for him to get out of surgery.

It’s the hope of your lingering shared kiss in the hallway that keeps you going.

“I love you and I’ll see you when you get out. Don’t be diffcult in there.”

“Who me?” Bode smiles against your clasped hands that he brought up to his lips, “Never. I love you too, baby.”

“Until rust?”

“Until we rust.” He recites followed with a wink, giving your hand one last squeeze as you step out of the way, waving at him and hugging yourself as you watch Bode keep his eyes on you until he can’t.

Vince is the one who takes the role of steering you to follow the rest back to the waiting room.

You secretly vowed to never do this shit again but you knew the longer you stared at the photo you took of Bode and ended up showing to Vince and Sharon (Vince got a good chuckle out of this while Sharon scoffed and scolded the boy through the camera but still found herself grinning) and once Bode was well enough to fight fires again, he would be trying his damn hardest to come up with a skiing competition just between you two.

That brings a crooked smile to your face as you slouch in the chair, leg crossed over the other and you toss your head back to stare up at the ceiling.

Waiting…

You were deeply in love with Bode Leone and it was so sickening!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ᨒ↟ 𖠰. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ᨒ↟ 𖠰. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ᨒ↟ 𖠰. ݁₊ ⊹

Read my final winter anthology prompt here.

[creedslove]

Mari!

I'm watching my husband Dave York in Equalizer 2 while I'm wrapping Christmas presents 🎁🎅🎄

Imagine waking up to Dave York in Christmas morning 😩🥵

Dave York x f!reader

A/N: Merry Christmas besties!!! 🎄

• okay so if you don't have kids in the house, say his girls are spending Christmas with their mom, you can be sure waking up to Dave on Christmas morning will be erotic af

• he will start by groping and caressing your body gently, feeling you up until you're half awake, his cock will be already hard for you and you will most likely find him between your legs once you look down

• the important thing is that the minute you are conscious on Christmas morning, you will be given pleasure by Dave, because he's a dedicated man to his queen, which is you

• he will do anything he can to make you happy, because I'm sure his love language is spoiling you with anything really

• so once you both enjoy your time in bed just to get the day started, I guess Dave would either make you breakfast or he would go out to buy you some, in order to make things special; he would definitely find your favorite donuts, mini croissant sandwiches, and all the waffles or pancakes you'd like

• then after your great breakfast, it's time to check the Christmas tree and see what's underneath it and let me tell you: there's plenty boxes and bags for you

• as stated before, Dave likes spoiling people he loves, he's got the money, and I'm also sure he's got a good taste, which means he will surprise you with clothes, shoes, bags and jewelry, they'll all be beautiful and suit you

• but he can spoil you with simpler stuff that you'll enjoy, whether we're talking about books, gardening material, a painting kit, decoration items, pretty much anything you might enjoy due to your hobby or your personal passion

• Dave also enjoys the domesticity and he'll be glad if there's relatives coming over, or if you and him are going over someone's for lunch, he'll have fun just the same, but he cannot lie about preferring to spend a special day just by yourselves

• he'll help cooking and cleaning up because he doesn't want to make you exhausted on a day that's supposed to be about you both enjoying each other's company

• in the afternoon, if he's feeling lazy he'll suggest you both snuggle up on the couch watching something (fun fact: Dave will either use this time as an excuse to finger you under the blankets or he will be able to watch five minutes of the movies before falling asleep)

• or if he's feeling playful, he'll suggest going outside and playing in the snow for a bit

• in the evening you will both have the leftovers for dinner and have a warm bath together, then he'll wait for you in bed while you put on your christmasy red lingerie for his enjoyment

• and he will make sure you have fun with a final present: Christmas sex toys, which features a candy cane themed butt plug

• he loves Christmas because he gets to spend it with you, and well, you are his favorite person after all

____

[twignotstick]

Mud Dogz - A Very Muddy Christmas 🎁

Warnings (if there's anything I should add here, tell me please!): None! All festive fun!

Words: 8,658

Summary: The holidays are a time to show how much you care. But, for your first time, it's hard to make sure you do everything right.

Notes: Welcome to the Mud Dogz holiday special! This special does take place further down the timeline, but I've tried to make everything make sense even without the context. Enjoy!

----------------------

Twas the day before Christmas, and all through the house,

The Mud Dogz felt excitement that couldn't be doused!

But the biggest of all felt underprepared,

For he didn't know how best to show that he cared…

~*•○●○•*~

At this time of year, one may expect every home to be filled with excited children and the smells of gingerbread and sugar. In the apartment of the Mud Dogz, no one knew how to make any kind of baked goods that would make such a pleasant aroma. That didn’t stop the boys themselves from enjoying the season.

Save for HG. It was Christmas Eve, and he was sitting in his room, mulling over the impossible choice of what gifts to get for his new friends. Not entirely new; they had been living together for a few months. That didn't help with his predicament, of course. This was the first time he had ever been able to celebrate Christmas. He never even knew about the holiday until he started working at the hotel, and even then, he wasn't involved in the celebrations. This was his first real Christmas, and he didn't want to get it wrong.

So far, he had absolutely no ideas. Christmas presents were supposed to be meaningful, and HG didn't know how to do that. He had been saving up money all month, but he just didn't know where to spend it. Was he supposed to spend the same amount on every gift? If he spent more on one, would that mean the rest weren't good enough?

Mickey had tried to explain the holiday to him multiple times, but it didn't fully click. Everyone was supposed to get gifts to show that they cared about the people around them. This should have been a great thing, since HG was exceedingly scared that they didn't know how grateful he was for them saving him from the life he had been leading. But in reality, that only worsened his fear, since if he got the wrong gifts, they might not want him to live with them anymore. They might go back to believing him to be a monster.

HG was snapped out of his anxious spiraling by a knock on his door. He opened the door to find Mickey sitting in his lop-sided wheelchair, with Christmas lights bundled uncomfortably in his lap and around his chair. He was wearing a sweater with an ugly cat on it that said “Meow-y Christmas”, and blankets were piled over his tail to keep him warm.

“Hey, big dude!” Mickey greeted cheerfully. “I'm doing some last minute decorating, and I can't reach the top of the cabinet where I need these to go. Feel like helping?”

Nodding instinctively, HG followed as Mickey led him into the kitchen, where he was trying to hang lights from the cabinets. HG took the strand and began hanging them, but he couldn't quite get the wire to hang on the handles right. He was handling the cord with great care, keeping his claws away from them as much as he could, but he couldn't get a good enough grip on the cord while doing so.

Mickey must have noticed, as he leaned forward to try and see what was taking HG so long. “You got it, buddy? I can get someone else to help.”

HG huffed, signing a quick ‘No.’ Another part of Christmas was being kind to others, and Mickey needed help. He was going to help. Despite his determination, after getting the cord hung on the first handle, he accidentally unhooked it while trying to get the second. His tail whipped in frustration, tapping against the side of the kitchen counter.

Unbeknownst to HG, Danny walked into the kitchen and started watching him in pity. He silently asked Mickey if he should help, only to earn a hesitant shake of the head. He had a sweater on as well, as Mickey had managed to get everyone except for HG in one. His was purple and white, with snowflakes across it.

HG turned around after a few more attempts, startling and knocking his tail against the counter, nearly dropping the lights in his hands. Danny waited for a second so HG could calm down before speaking.

“Do you want some help with that?” He asked, grabbing the end of the cord. “I understand it might be difficult with your… hand situation.”

Pursing his lips, HG relented and handed the lights to Danny. The rat was able to hang them up quickly, with little struggle. As the lights were hung, Mickey’s seating situation got much more comfortable, and he became less squished in his chair.

“Thanks, Dan!” Mickey said with a grin.

“You know,” Danny said to HG, “you don't have to worry about ripping them. They don't all work anyway, I'm assuming.” He turned to Mickey. “Where'd you find these ones anyway?”

“In the dumpster a couple blocks down! And no, you can't rip them!” He said the latter part in a whiny tone. “I'm gonna fix them!”

“Really? That's what you said last year.”

“Well… I'm really gonna do it this time.”

“Whatever you say, Mick. Look, HG,” he turned again, “you don't have to worry about it.”

‘But,’ HG signed, his tail slowly sweeping back and forth, ‘Christmas? Nice?’

“Christmas?” Danny paused, trying to understand what HG meant. “Oh, no, just because you weren't able to help doesn't mean you weren't being nice. The fact that you tried at all means that you were being nice. Are you worried about Christmas?”

HG wrung his hands. ‘Maybe.’

“Oh, I know that one!” Mickey said, rolling a little closer. “Why would anybody ever be worried about Christmas? It's supposed to be fun, and a time to show you care. It shouldn't be stressful!”

HG shrunk into himself. ‘Presents,’ he signed hesitantly.

“Oh, I'm sure whatever presents you have are lovely, HG,” Danny assured.

‘No,’ HG signed frustratedly, ‘no presents. Have no presents.’

“You're going to have presents, HG, we aren't that mean-”

‘No, I have no presents.’

Danny looked puzzled, but Mickey lit up in understanding. “You don't have any presents for us yet, do you?”

HG nodded. Danny looked at Mickey, almost offended. “You know sign less than I do?!”

“I know people, dude,” Mickey said with a grin. “We can do some last minute shopping, right?”

“I guess,” Danny said. “But we should ask Leonard if he wants to join, too. Knowing him, he probably doesn't have all of his presents yet, either.”

“I’ll get him!” Mickey’s chest puffed with gusto, and he rolled as fast as he could into Leonard’s room with his lop-sided wheels. Moments later, both he and Leonard emerged from the room, with Leonard already pulling on his torn winter coat. His sweater was gray and red, and had a spaceship on the front- Mickey had picked it out for him because of his favorite show, The Aluri. In all honesty, it was the favorite show of the whole household, and HG had even taken a strong liking to the main character, Red Fox.

“So, we’re getting presents?” Leonard asked as he grabbed Mickey’s jacket and tossed in the eel's face. “Very exciting, though I don’t have any presents to get, no way.”

Danny chuckled as he reached into the pockets of various coats hanging near the door, searching for something. “Yeah, sure- hey, have any of you seen my good gloves? I haven’t been able to find them in weeks.”

“Nnnope!” Leonard chirped, grabbing the one coat that they had scavenged that was just big enough for HG and helping him put it on.

Danny sighed, tossing his hands up and settling for wearing sub-par gloves. “Guess I can just get a new pair while we’re out.”

“Hey, they’re probably around here somewhere.” Mickey said, uncomfortably shuffling the layers of blankets in his lap to have the best insulation and pulling a beanie onto his head. “There’s no need to go wasting your Christmas money.”

“Fine, I guess,” Danny conceded. “I’ll get new ones after Christmas, when the sales are on.”

“Great! Now that that's settled…” Leonard finished helping HG as he finally tugged the second sleeve of his coat on and fastened his trapper hat on his head. “Ikou, my friends! To frosty fun!”

“Booyah!” Mickey cheered, leading the group out the apartment door.

~*•○●○•*~

So off to the market, the rascals did fly,

In search of what goodies were out there to buy.

The streets of the city brought fun new intrigues,

As townspeople cheerfully filled them in leagues.

~*•○●○•*~

The streets of the Hidden City were bustling with last minute shoppers, ready to make use of sales. Mystic snowfall apparated from the ceiling of the vast cavern, covering the streets and letting children try to catch the snowflakes on their tongues. Yokai kept shoveling their storefronts to welcome prospective shoppers in. A quiet jingle of holiday music rang through the air, from no specific point of origin in particular.

Mickey had to stop propelling himself in favor of Leonard pushing his chair, since getting through the snow and across the paved streets was difficult. Despite the setback, Mickey kept a chipper mood and pointed out every bright decoration or detail to be sure HG saw.

“And all the shops will have music playing, and it's always so nice to get inside and feel the warmth of the heaters-”

“Mickey, you might be overwhelming him.” Danny patted Mickey's shoulder gently, looking at HG to make sure he was doing okay. HG had already been stared at by plenty of people in the few minutes it took to walk into town, and Danny had to swipe away a couple phones to keep people from taking pictures.

“Oh, right, sorry!” Mickey apologized, reaching out to grab HG's hand with his fin. “You're gonna love it, that's all I'm tryna say.”

HG was infinitely grateful for Danny’s observation. It was all very exciting, but a lot. All at once. The beauty of the snow alone was overwhelming, let alone the twinkling lights and laughter. And the pretty storefronts. And the crowds of people. And the bells. And-

“Away we go!” Leonard shouted, grabbing onto Mickey’s wheelchair handles and rushing him away.

HG blinked, watching the pair vanish through the clogged street. He nervously turned to Danny, who looked almost as stunned as he was.

“Well,” Danny said, clasping his hands together, “Guess it's just you and me, big guy. Ready to do some shopping?”

‘Yes,’ HG signed. ‘For what?’

Danny started to stroll down the street, and HG slowly followed. “Well, for gifts! If you have ideas, we can look there first. Don't tell the guys, but I still need to get something for Mickey too. That's further down the street, though, so you might find something before we get there.”

HG's tail swished in the snow behind him as he walked, taking careful steps with the single pair of shoes they had been able to find in his size. ‘What presents? What to get?’

“Oh! Well…” Danny contemplated. “There's no real wrong gift. It’s just supposed to make your giftee feel… loved. As long as it's something that they will find some joy in, it'll work. And not something that they can't use. Like, don't get Mickey shoes, or Leonard weak deodorant.”

HG huffed, the closest thing he could muster to laughter. As the pair walked across the powder dusted streets, he leaned to look into every brightly lit storefront and gawk and the beautiful displays. His tail's slow sweeping gradually sped up as he became more interested and excited.

“I guess you can put some parameters in place. Rules.” Danny spun on his heel to start walking backwards, causing HG's attention to whip over to him. “Rule one: pay attention to the person's interests and hobbies, and get something related to that. Think about TV shows they like, or movies, or books, or whatever. It's a pretty safe bet for a gift. Oh, maybe like this-”

Danny stopped at the sight of a shop next to him; a video game shop. The store also advertised selling merchandise for various nerdy interests, from gundams to magical girls.

“The perfect place to browse for our resident dork,” Danny said, walking up to the store and going inside. HG quickly followed. “Well, the biggest dork.”

HG started looking at the options across the racks and shelves, admiring the shiny pins and intricate patches for franchises he had never heard of. He stayed as far away from the expensive gaming consoles against the walls as he could, for fear that he would knock something over with his tail by accident. Danny browsed next to him, pointing out certain characters he recognized.

After searching for a while, HG found a rack that had some merchandise for The Aluri. There were pins, patches, t-shirts, and hats, all representing the various characters in the main cast, and even a few of the more obscure side characters, like Jupiter Jim. However, the item that caught HG’s eye was a bandana, with a pattern portraying chibi-fied characters alongside the spaceship itself. He took the bandana off the hook as delicately as possible, tapping Danny’s shoulder to get his attention and show him.

“Oo, great find!” Danny took the bandana, feeling the fabric to check its quality. “This’ll be perfect for Len. Great job, HG!”

The tip of HG’s tail wagged contentedly as he listened to the praise. For his first ever Christmas present, he never would have expected to find such a good pick. Maybe this intimidating challenge wouldn’t be so challenging after all?

As they walked up to the checkout, Danny rambled a little more about the ways of gift-giving. “This is a really good present, actually,” he said, “since Leonard just can’t help hiding his receding hairline. It’s multipurpose, it shows how obsessed he is with TV, and he’s likely to wear it!”

After giving a quick “thank you” to the cashier, the boys resituated their layers and stepped back out into the cold.

~*•○●○•*~

With their nice newfound ‘kerchief, and newfound belief,

HG carried on feeling greatly relieved.

They passed by the shops with their discounted prices,

As the kaiju learned more of gift-giving devices.

~*•○●○•*~

As the pair carried along the street, HG took closer note of the people walking alongside them. He saw happy couples holding gloved hands. He saw children tossing snowballs at each other and squealing. He saw parents struggling to keep their kids wrangled together. One such parent, a mother who resembled an alpaca, was grabbing her kid’s arm as he tried to run out of the doorway of a shop.

“Arin, you need to put that back,” she reprimanded, holding a hooved hand out for a small toy the boy had in his hands. “Stealing will put you on the naughty list. You want Santa to bring you gifts, don’t you?”

The boy gasped, seemingly filled with sudden guilt at the possibility his mother had proposed. “Yes, I’ll be good! I’ll put it back!”

The boy and his mother both walked back into the store, respectfully returning the toy back to where it belonged. HG couldn’t help but watch them in confusion and wonder. He tapped Danny’s shoulder, getting the rat’s attention so he could sign.

‘Bad list?’ He signed hesitantly, not knowing if it would make sense. ‘S-A-N-T-A?’

“Uh- oh, you don’t know about Santa, do you?” When HG shook his head, Danny nodded slightly. “Well, Santa Claus is a figure related to Christmas. In human culture, he is often depicted as a large, white bearded man wearing red. However, in the yokai world, (AKA the real depiction,) Santa is an eldritch force that is able to observe every living yokai at all times for the whole year. At the end of the year, Santa duplicates its presence to enter into every home and give gifts to those who have done good deeds throughout the year.” Danny sighed heavily. “We won’t have any gifts from Santa, unfortunately. I learned as soon as I ran away that leading a life of crime disqualifies you from being on the nice list.”

HG listened attentively, nodding along. ‘I’m bad. I get presents?’

“Of course you do! Santa’s judgment is much too harsh, in my opinion. Mickey didn’t get any presents during our first Christmas together, and he was hardly an accessory to crime!” Seeing that HG was still not understanding, Danny explained, “We’re allowed to get presents for each other, no matter what Santa decides. What matters is that we care about each other, and we show it.”

HG mulled over this new information. He had never received presents from this “Santa”. That must mean he never had a year where he was good. It made sense in the later years, but there were years where he tried, when he was younger. Much younger. If this figure was so important in holiday culture that parents would keep their children in line with the threat of its decision, then surely its opinion must be important.

Danny must have noticed his spaced out expression. “I think you’re a good person, HG. You’ve been really nice to all of us ever since we met. Well, for the most part, and when you weren’t it was deserved. I’d be willing to bet that if you hadn’t been so nice to help us with our heists, you would have been on the nice list.”

There was no way that was right, HG thought, knowing what he had done before they met. He didn’t want to argue with Danny, though, so he signed a small ‘Thank you.’

“Alright, now gift-giving rule two: pay attention to the things that person actually needs, even if they don’t realize it.” Danny gestured in the air as he continued to explain. “Christmas gifts are all the better when they have a practical use, especially in our situation. Sometimes people struggle to come up with ideas for what they want, even when they have so many things that they need.”

As HG nodded along, Danny approached the storefront he had come out to visit. A toy shop, with brightly colored shelves and things for all ages. There were some parents with their children walking around inside, browsing the various shelves. Danny led the way inside, glancing at the shelves as he went through. Just before he headed to where he was aiming for, his attention was grabbed by a bookshelf.

“They have The Night Before Christmas?” Danny gasped, grabbing a children’s book from the shelf. “This is classic surface Christmas literature! And with beautiful examples of human poetry structure and artwork-” Danny shook the book in his hands just a bit, before sighing and putting it back. “Not a rule, but a piece of advice: resist buying for yourself while gift-giving. Spending your money on yourself puts the important gifts at risk.”

Watching Danny’s excellent show of personal restraint, HG got an idea.

Danny approached a corner that was dedicated to tabletop games. There were actually many that HG recognized, much to his own surprise, all thanks to playing such games with Mickey. The rat kneeled down, looking across the displays for one thing in particular.

“Here they are.” Danny picked up a velvet bag, rustling with items inside. “Replacement stones for Mickey’s Mancala. Now which color combo to pick…”

As Danny browsed, HG walked back over to the bookshelf. He grabbed The Night Before Christmas, happy to find that it was the last copy they had left. Sending one more glance to make sure Danny wasn’t looking, he carried it up to the register.

“This all you have, si-”

HG frantically waved at the feline cashier, holding a finger up to his mouth to tell him to keep quiet. When the cashier looked concerned, he pointed silently to Danny, then back at the book.

“Ah, I see ya.” The cashier silently took HG’s money, forwent putting the book in a bag to make the deal even more quiet, and put the receipt in the cover of it. “Oh, to make sure you don’t get found out-” He ducked under his counter, coming back up with another copy of the book. “I needed to put this return back up there, anyway. Could you do it for me?”

HG smiled as widely as his stiff face could and happily obliged. He stuffed his purchase under his coat and into a pocket on the inside, happy for once about his own size because the pocket was big enough to hold the book securely. Fortunately, he was able to do all of this just before Danny made his decision on Mancala pieces and walked up to the cashier himself to make a purchase of his own.

Happy with his choice, Danny walked up to HG, none the wiser that one extra gift had also been purchased. “Got him some nice blue ones, which he can even mix with his incomplete set. I’m sure he will, just for the sake of combining the colors.” Shaking the plastic bag with the bag of stones inside, Danny happily left the store, taking a quick last glance at the book still on the shelf.

HG huffed, pleased that Danny couldn’t tell the difference.

~*•○●○•*~

Two gifts out of three, the kaiju did acquire,

Fully sure they were things that his friends would desire.

Though the final gift would prove HG’s greatest test,

Since, for his closest friend, this one must be the best.

~*•○●○•*~

“So, that still leaves two gifts for you to get, right? Any ideas?”

‘No, no,’ HG signed carefully. ‘One. For Mickey.’

“Oh, really?” Danny said, furrowing his brow for only a moment. “Got it. You shouldn’t feel pressured to get a gift for everyone-”

‘No. I have a gift,’ HG interrupted.

“Oh! Well, good for you!” Danny commended, patting HG’s shoulder firmly. “That reminds me of another thing; don’t be afraid to give things you’ve had for a while if they’ll suit nicely.”

After humming quietly in response, HG went back to looking at shops. Despite the wide array of options, nothing was catching his eye. For Mickey, HG wanted to make sure his gift was perfect. While all of the Mud Dogz had shown him plenty of kindness (save for the beginning with Leonard), Mickey was the one who truly wanted to befriend him. He got HG to play board games with him, indulged in HG’s interest in cooking, and tried to talk to him whenever he could, even if he was rusty on sign language. He had even tried to communicate before HG had figured out that sign was an option for him. It was such unexpected nice behavior that HG had begun looking forward to every simple conversation they would have at breakfast.

A scream broke HG out of his daydreaming. He turned to look at the opposite side of the street and watched as a yokai with a hood covering their head ran away from a stall selling sewn goods, carrying a metal money box in their hands. The shopkeeper- a witch with long, graying blonde hair- was calling after them, saying, “Thief! Burglar!”

“Ooh, yeesh,” Danny hissed, watching the criminal run away. “Real rude move.”

Something in HG’s mind flipped, and, without much thinking, he turned to follow the thief.

“Uh- HG?!”

His mystics kicked in and he grew in size, making sure not to get too big so as not to hurt anyone around him. His coat and shoes kept him from doing so, anyway. As he ran down the streets, various people stopped and watched him. Some cheered him on; a sound he had never really thought would be intended for him. The culprit heard the booming footsteps approaching behind them and turned around, slipping and falling backwards into the snow. The money box tumbled out of their hands as they looked up at the giant figure behind them.

“Take it!” They pleaded. “Take the money, man! Just let me go!”

HG growled lowly at them, letting a quiet roar escape as he grabbed the box in his palm. The thief scrambled away as he turned around, shrinking back to normal size and going back to the stall where the box belonged. He checked over his clothes, finding that he had ripped the sleeve of his new coat.

Danny was already speaking with the proprietor of the stall, explaining that despite HG’s growling methods, he was trying to do good. As he got closer, HG began to examine the sewn together items that were for sale, trying to figure out what they were for. Danny and the owner watched HG approach, and as soon as HG was close enough, the witch stepped around the stall and bowed to him as a show of her gratitude.

“Thank you so much, sir.” She stood back up, happily taking the money box back from HG’s hands. “You have no idea how much this helps me and my daughter. Who would have known my busiest day would be right before Christmas?”

“Well, we did come out shopping today, so we could have guessed!” Danny gleefully responded, patting HG’s forearm.

“Oh, really?” The shopkeeper brightened. “Well, I must offer a reward of some kind. I can pay you a hundred, at least. Or, if you want some free merchandise?” She gestured to the sewn goods. “They’re supposed to be for older people, such as myself, if you had anyone like that you needed to get gifts for.”

HG signed, and Danny interpreted for him. “What are they for?”

“They’re pockets you can fit onto your chair’s armrest!” As she explained with a grin, she looked right at HG, despite him being unable to fully respond. “My daughter sews them herself. They can be used to hold anything, really. Snacks at the table, power cords for your electronic devices, mystic devices. My daughter started making them when I picked up knitting again. Having all that yarn takes up a lot of table space, so she made one for me, and we decided to make it a business. She makes them in her free time all year so we can sell them when it gets colder. When people are inside more, you know.”

“...do they work with wheelchairs?”

“Oh! Well, I guess that'd depend on the type of wheelchair you have. The straps to secure it onto the chair have to go around the armrest. But as long as the armrests are detached, sure!” The owner looked to HG with a motherly smile. “Do you have a friend that might like one?”

Seeing HG hesitate with the signs he didn't know, Danny elected to explain. “We have a roommate that's an ambulatory wheelchair user.” He furrowed his eyebrows in question at HG. “You want to get this for Mickey?”

‘Yes.’ HG's tail swayed nervously. ‘Wheelchair doesn't have space. Mickey can't sit comfortably. This will help him carry things.’

Danny's eyes widened and he grew an excited grin. “You're so right! See, you're a natural gift-giver!”

HG's tail swayed slightly faster. He turned back to the store owner. ‘How much?’

“Oh, no HG- she said it was free.”

‘No.’ HG shook his head firmly, staring at the owner. ‘How much?’

“I'm sorry, what is he saying?”

Danny sighed exasperatedly. “He's asking how much they cost.”

“Uh, well, if you're curious, it depends on which kind. I have cheaper ones for forty or forty-five, with less pockets. The expensive ones are usually seventy-five, but I have them marked down to sixty since I'm almost done for the day and won't be selling for a while after the holidays. They've got more pockets, zippers, and cushions to add onto the armrests. But, again, you don't need to pay. You already saved me hundreds in profits.”

HG nodded as she spoke. “We'll look at your fancier ones,” Danny interpreted.

The woman brought their attention to the right side of her stall, where the more expensive options were folded nicely. There were plain color options, but what drew HG's attention was the floral ones. One design had orange and red flowers, with beautiful curling petals and emerald leaves with a bluish tinge to them. He hesitated to touch it, not wanting to rip anything, but Danny seemed to notice and picked the piece up to investigate the various pockets and zippers.

“Very well made,” Danny commended. “Your daughter is very talented.”

“Oh, yes,” the witch chuckled.

Content with what he could see, HG reached into his coat pocket and took his money bag out. He poured out its contents, then signed ‘Thank you,’ and grabbed a second piece to go with the first that Danny already had.

“What?” The woman asked, baffled. “You- no, sir, I can’t accept your money.”

‘Thank you,’ HG signed again, more firmly.

“Oh.” The shopkeeper took the money delicately, smiling softly. She handed over a bag for the boys to put their new purchases in, as well as a business card. “Thank you so much, sir. You’ve done so much for me and my daughter. I hope we can meet again so I can repay you. And that your friend likes their gift!”

HG nodded. Danny took both pockets and put them in the bag, taking note of the information on the card for the future. “I know he’s gonna love it. HG’s just a master at picking gifts. Thank you so much, ma’am.”

“It’s no problem. Thank you.”

The boys waved goodbye, content with their shopping for the day. Danny stuck the two smaller bags from the other shops into the larger one, then turned to HG. “It’s real lucky you had 120 left, huh?” He asked, walking closely beside HG toward where he had messaged Leonard to meet.

‘150.’ HG signed.

“...what?”

‘150. I had 150.’

“Hold on.” Danny stepped in front of HG, stopping him in his tracks. “So not only did you save that woman’s whole earnings for the day. But you also demanded to pay when she offered free merchandise, and, when she told you it was being sold at a discount, you paid full price?!”

‘...yes.’

Danny blinked. “How were you ever worried about being on the nice list?”

The kaiju’s brow furrowed. ‘What?’

“You just did so many good things. That earned you some serious good karma! If anyone in our place is going to get gifts from Santa, it’ll be you!”

HG didn’t quite understand. Had Danny forgotten all the terrible things he had done? Even just the ones he had done after meeting? He had experienced a whole year of doing terrible deeds. There was no way he could be considered good by anyone. Right?

“Let’s get home so we can get these gifts wrapped up, shall we?”

Timidly nodding, HG’s tail continued to wag as they both went to find their other friends.

~*•○●○•*~

The boys returned home, with presents aplenty,

And hurried to get the festivities ready.

Before the night fell, HG went to his buddy,

Since his technique of wrapping was still a bit muddy.

~*•○●○•*~

“What do you need, big dude?”

HG stood awkwardly in Mickey’s doorway, holding Danny’s present and a roll of wrapping paper. He awkwardly stuffed the roll under his arm to sign, ‘Need help. Can’t wrap.’

Mickey asked for HG to repeat the signs slower, then comprehended. “Oh!” Mickey excitedly pulled HG inside his room. “Of course!” He looked at the book in HG’s hand and gently took it, gasping softly. “Oo, this is so cool! Danny is gonna love this. Uh, this is for Danny, right?”

HG nodded. ‘He wanted it, but didn’t get it.’

“Really? Great pick!” Mickey flopped to the floor, gesturing for HG to roll out the paper. “I’m sure all your gifts are as awesome as this.”

‘Hopefully.’

“I know they are.” Mickey started wrapping the book, taking care to not get any tape on the book itself. “Because you're one of the coolest, nicest people I've ever met. And it doesn't matter what you got. We’re gonna love them.”

Sitting down on the floor next to Mickey, HG mindlessly gnawed on the end of his tail. ‘But what if the presents are bad? Not good for you?’

“It doesn't matter what you got me, GiGi. I'm just happy you got me anything.”

HG took a pause. ‘But… but if you don't like it? You can't use it?’

“It doesn't matter to me!” Mickey finished wrapping the book up, finding a marker and handing it to HG to write Danny's name on the gift. “I gave Leonard and Danny mismatched socks that didn't fit for three years, and they still loved those. At the time I thought they were really great gifts, but still. Besides,” Mickey scooted across the floor to lean against HG's side, “you already gave me the greatest gift ever this year.”

HG's tail slowly fell to the ground, then subconsciously wrapped around Mickey, holding him close. ‘I gave you nothing?’

Taking a second to recognize the signs that HG had just done, Mickey's smile grew wider. “You gave me you. I mean, technically, we saved you, but you stayed. So now we have a new person in the apartment, and you can cook way better than any of us, and you can actually reach the top shelves, and most importantly-”

Mickey moved to sit right in front of HG, holding one of his hands in both fins.

“You gave me a new best friend. And another big brother, even though the others won't admit that they’re my brothers too.”

As the tip of his tail softly patted against the floor, HG finished writing Danny's name on his gift and gave Mickey a quick hug. ‘Thank you for saving me,’ he signed.

“Ahh, it was no biggie.” Mickey chuckled, mimicking pulling HG to his feet despite not actually being able to. HG stood anyway. “Now we've got to get to bed, or Santa can't come! Though, I don't know if he will, especially since we robbed a police station this year… Well, there's always a chance!”

HG snorted, but went to bed as he was told after putting his present under the dilapidated top-of-a-tree-attached-to-a-base. Thoughts of the next morning weighed heavily on his mind, but he forced himself to sleep.

Just in case.

~*•○●○•*~

The night passed by calmly, as quaint as could be,

With twelve perfect gifts laid around the small tree.

Across the city, an ominous creature appeared

To give presents to those who had been good that year.

~*•○●○•*~

“Merry Christmas!!!”

Leonard knocked on every bedroom door, opening them slightly as another incentive to get out of bed. HG grumbled and rubbed his eyes, contemplating staying in bed out of principle, but then he remembered.

It was Christmas.

HG climbed out of his comparatively small full size bed, his tail wagging excitedly. He walked out, nearly bumping into Mickey's chair as he flew down the hallway. When he noticed who he had passed, Mickey reversed and grabbed HG's hand to drag him along. “Come on, dude! It's time for presents!”

As Danny trudged out behind them, HG and Mickey hurried along into the living room. Anxiously, HG waited to see what presents would be there, and he saw Leonard already looking through.

The ogre ducked around the sort-of-tree, then sighed. “No dice. Santa proves to be a narc once again.”

HG's shoulders lowered, and he wilted. Danny patted his shoulder as he walked up from behind. “I told you its judgement was harsh. You shouldn't feel bad.”

“Who cares?! It's present time!” Mickey hopped off of his wheelchair and passionately smacked the large bean bag next to him for HG. Once HG had plopped down in the seat, Mickey went over to the tree and started divvying up the presents to their respective giftees. HG was shocked and pleased to find that he had three; one from each of his friends.

“Nose goes!” After dropping into his own seat, Mickey smacked a fin over his nose and reached over and grabbed HG's hand for him to do the same to his own.

Leonard and Danny took their places on the sofa next to each other and met each other's eyes, shrugging in unison. “I'll go,” Leonard said.

He reached down next to him and grabbed his first present, a small flat box. “Mickey's first,” he said, peeling back the wrapping paper and opening the box within. He took out a small, ring bound yellow sketchbook, with various stickers laid in the box as well.

“I know you kept stealing Danny's notebooks to doodle in, so I thought you'd like your own sketchbook! And I looked through the stickers I had to find some you’d like, too.”

“This is very nice, Mickey! Thank you.” Leonard put the gifts back in the box and to the side on the floor, as HG noted. He wanted to make sure that, when his turn came, he did everything right.

Leonard glanced up, catching HG’s nervous stare. “How about yours next, big guy?” He reached down and grabbed the gift from HG. HG’s tail started swishing beside him rapidly in anticipation as Leonard pulled the tissue paper out of the bag and looked inside.

“Oo! This is niiice!” Leonard showed the bandana off, making sure Mickey and Danny could see the pattern. In the process, he got a better feel of the fabric, silently gawking at it. He took the cardboard packaging off and pulled off the red and green bandana he was wearing, replacing it with his new gift. “How do I look?”

Mickey chuckled. “Like a dork. A cool dork!”

“A title I will wear with pride,” Leonard beamed. “Thank you, HG.” 

HG’s tail wagged even faster as he felt his expression tighten in an attempt to express his happiness. His gift had been a success! He had made a good choice! And he even put it on as soon as he could!

“On to the rat man,” Leonard said as he leaned down once more, narrowly dodging a swat to the head from Danny’s tail. He picked up the small box and examined it judgmentally. “Cute wrapping, though your folding job is a little subpar…”

“Oh, just open it already, string bean.”

“Jeez, I’m just saying,” Leonard said sarcastically. He unwrapped the box and opened it, pulling out a brown, wooden switchblade with gold engraving. He flicked out the blade to show a silver comb, polished and shining. “Oh, thank you, Danny. I can never have enough of these.”

“Flip out the other side, Leonard,” Danny said knowingly.

“Other-”  Leonard spun the handle around, flicking out the other side to see a real, polished, sharp knife blade. Leonard gasped. “This is so cool! How did you get this thing?!”

“Some persuasion, some threats, a really nice discount, you know…” Danny leaned away as if it was nothing, but the happy swaying of his tail showed otherwise.

“You criminal.” Leonard leaned into Danny’s face, shoving a finger at his nose. “Open your presents before they get confiscated.”

Danny rolled his eyes, but reached down to grab a gift anyway. “I’ll start with HG’s, since I’ve been dying to know what it is.” Mickey leaned over and patted against HG’s arm excitedly as Danny ripped the paper. Once the cover of the book was uncovered, his eyes widened and he quickened his unwrapping. “You- how did you- when did you get this?!”

‘With you,’ HG signed smugly. ‘You didn’t see.’

“See, I told you that you were too good at this!” Danny opened the book and began examining the pages, closer than he had at the shop.

“Can you read it to us, Danny?” Mickey asked sweetly.

“It’s called The Night Before Christmas, Mickey. It’s the morning of Christmas.”

“We can make an exception,” Leonard said, leaning back on the couch, “Can’t we?”

Danny rolled his eyes, but smiled. “I guess. But only tonight! Not right now. We’ve got more presents to open. Thank you, HG.”

As Mickey fistpumped, HG sighed and relaxed in his seat. Another good reception. Two of three.

Danny reached down again, grabbing the bag from Mickey. He reached in and took out a dark, burgundy bow tie. He looked at it with curiosity, then up at Mickey.

“It matches the new hat you got!” Mickey explained.

“You’re right!” Danny said, recalling a new burgundy fedora he had recently found. “Now I won’t look like a fashion tragedy when I try to wear it. Thanks, Mick.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” Mickey said as he giggled.

Danny reached down and opened his final box, at which he got an even more confused expression. “Leonard,” he whispered aggressively, “why are my gloves in here?”

“Because I needed them,” Leonard said, sickly sweet. “There’s more, look under!”

Danny scowled, but with a little more convincing from Leonard, he looked deeper in the box. “More gloves?!”

“I made them, based on your old ones. Since they were the only ones that fit your freaky hands-”

“HEY-”

“I used them as a pattern to make new ones with nicer fabric, and reinforced fingertips so your claws won’t rip through. Now you don’t have to use crappy, ripped up ones!”

Danny groaned in defeat. “Alright, thank you Leonard. I’m sure these nice new gloves will make up for you stealing my old ones.”

“You’re very welcome, rat man,” Leonard said smugly. He got a tail to the face in return.

“Okay, my turn now!” Mickey squealed. “You get to go last HG, since it’s your first time.” He picked up his first gift, a sloppily wrapped box. Opening it, he grinned and picked up a screwdriver and wrench from within. “New tools! Thank you, Len!” He put the tools in his hands down and picked up another from the box, his eyes getting teary for no apparent reason. “And a new hand drill, too?”

“That’s right, little man,” Leonard said with a nervous grin. “Don’t… cry about it or anything. You haven’t even gotten into your other gifts.”

Mickey thanked Leonard again, miming hugging him since he didn’t want to stand up, then grabbed the second gift, from Danny. He examined the velvet bag suspiciously, shaking it around, then opened it up and squealed. “New Mancala stuff! Is this a whole set?”

“Sure is,” Danny answered proudly. “I bought them new.”

“Oo, this is gonna be so good! I’ll get to show you what a real game plays like, HG.”

“And walk all over us for longer?” Leonard asked, smugly.

“I’ll go easy on you guys, I promise,” Mickey said, though everyone knew he didn’t mean it. “So that’s just yours left, HG. I can’t wait!” The eel leaned down and grabbed the last gift, the biggest out of all of the ones so far. The paper was ripped in places, as HG had insisted he had to wrap it himself, but Mickey couldn’t care less. The excitement in his face was unmatched as he opened the package, taking out its contents with care.

HG hesitated to do anything as Mickey looked at the hardware and stitching on his gifts. When he said nothing, HG signed slowly, ‘For your chair. So you can carry things.’

“Wait, they’re for my chair?” HG nodded. Mickey frantically hopped out of his seat so he could get into his wheelchair, then strapped the new pockets onto his armrests. To HG’s relief, they fit perfectly, not obstructing his wheels at all. Mickey started investigating all the pockets and zippers, gushing about what he could use it for. “My tools can fit in here, and it’ll be so much easier to bring my games around the apartment, and I can stuff snacks in here- AH! This is so cool!!!” He rolled over to HG, then hopped out of his chair to give him a tight hug. “Thank you so much!”

HG’s tail somehow began wagging even faster, moving around the stuffing in his bean bag musically. He hugged Mickey just as tightly, more proud than he could have ever imagined. He did it! He got good presents! He was nice! They still liked him! And Mickey liked his gift the most!

“Just wait until you hear the story about how we got those,” Danny said.

“That can wait, it’s time for HG to open his presents!” Mickey plopped back into his wheelchair, still staying beside HG.

Having nearly forgotten that he had received any, HG picked up his first gift, the one from Leonard, carefully. Fortunately, it was in a bag, so he was less worried about damaging its contents. Placing the tissue paper to the side, HG found a large rubber ring sitting inside.

“It’s something you can chew on,” Leonard explained, “so you don’t have to chew on your tail. It’s made for yokai, too, not pets, so it’ll last for a long time. And I bought it, so you know it’s clean.”

HG timidly gnawed on the ring, pleasantly surprised when he couldn’t rip it with his fangs, but it still gave a little. ‘Thank you. I like it,’ he signed.

“Glad you do, big man.”

HG grabbed the second gift, which he could tell was from Danny from the amazing wrapping job. Symmetrical tape, perfect creases, everything. He clawed at the paper carefully, trying to not touch what was inside at all. He discovered it was a book, just like he had gotten for Danny. Unlike Danny’s, this was a cookbook, with pastries and cookies across the cover. Mickey leaned over to see.

“I noticed you didn’t have any recipes for baking,” Danny said. “I thought you might enjoy some. There’s even a few in there for festive sweets, like cookies.”

“Cookies?!” Mickey clapped his fins together. “Can we make some? Oh, we might not have the ingredients… We can check what we have when we eat breakfast. If you want to, of course..?”

HG snorted. ‘Yes. Thank you, Danny, I like it.’

“You’re very welcome, HG.”

Perhaps the most carefully, HG picked up the last gift. It was the biggest box of all the ones that anyone had, though lighter than expected. Mickey’s tail bounced in his seat, anticipating HG’s reaction. Not wanting to leave his friend waiting, HG unwrapped the gift swiftly.

Within was a large plushie, which resembled some sort of green reptile. It had a cute face, with plush teeth and an opened mouth, along with large, chunky limbs and clawed toes. There were green spikes lining its spine, reminding HG of his own red spines. HG scooped the plushie out of the box under its stomach, seeing how its long tail flopped around and limbs fell to its sides.

“He looks like you!” Mickey said gleefully. “He’s got your teeth, and your cuddly-ness, and all the important stuff, y’know?”

With Mickey’s perspective, HG looked at the plushie more closely. But where was the scary grimace? The constant fear? The grimace? What about this precious gift could possibly remind Mickey of him?

Where was the monster?

The tears gathered in the corners of his eyes without his knowledge.

Mickey frowned, nervously standing up and sitting in the bean bag next to HG. “Do you like it? I was calling him Leatherhead, but you can change the name if you want. A-and if you don’t like it, I can just go put it back in the bin I got it from and get you something else!”

HG hugged Mickey closely against his chest, squeezing his eyes shut and whimpering softly. He put his face as deeply as he could into his friend’s shoulder, happy to feel Mickey’s arms wrapping around his back as much as they could. He kept the plush held tightly in his hand; loose enough to make sure he didn’t hurt it. He didn’t want to hurt this. To hurt him. He had a name.

“I love you too, GiGi.” Mickey whispered, leaning his head against HG’s. “I’m really glad you like him.”

HG forced himself to lean back enough so Mickey could see him sign shakily with one hand. ‘Love him. I love him. Thank you. Thank you so much.’

Mickey grabbed HG’s hand, holding it tight to his chest. “I’m so glad you do. I was really worried about it.”

All the stress and confusion in HG’s head melted away. The whole process of getting gifts, the worry about if things would turn out right, the wish to convey his gratitude, it was as if none of it ever existed. Mickey, the one who had been confident enough to give socks that didn’t fit as a gift and knew he would get kindness in return, had been worried about this gift. This gift, the one that told HG that he wasn’t a terrifying beast to be scared of. The one that told him he was kind. The one that told him he was gentle and soft.

It told him he was loved. All of the gifts did.

HG hugged Mickey to his chest for just a little longer. Mickey pulled back and hopped over to his wheelchair, happily adjusting his new pockets, and looked back to HG with a goofy grin. “Mind if I take your new cookbook for a minute? I wanna start looking in the kitchen to figure out what we can make.”

HG nodded, and Mickey swept up the book and rolled away. Danny nodded to HG approvingly, then stood up to follow. Leonard watched them go, then stood and walked over to HG, crouching down next to him.

“Take as long as you need here, big guy,” Leonard consoled. “They can wait.”

HG thanked him, sitting up a little straighter. ‘Your gift was nice, too. I didn’t mean to cry.’

“Ah, it's fine. I’ve cried over presents before too, I get it.” Leonard stood, putting his hands on his hips. “You did really good with all those gifts. I know all of this is new, so don’t be afraid to dip out if all the festive-happy-Christmas-time is too much. Mickey likes to go all the way.”

Standing and wiping the remaining tears from his face, HG signed, ‘I will. Thank you. All of it is nice.’

“That’s great to hear! We’re excited to include you if you’ll let us.”

HG’s chest swelled with a tingly feeling. This powerful feeling, one of belonging, was so new, and so foreign, but he was so happy to have it. It felt so right.

“HG!” Mickey shouted from the kitchen. “WE CAN MAKE SUGAR COOKIES!!!”

HG and Leonard both looked toward the kitchen, then back at each other. “Ready for the holiday chaos?”

As his tail wagged behind him, HG nodded, more confident than he had ever been before.

~*•○●○•*~

That Christmas, the Mud Dogz kept most things the same,

With one more companion to play in their games.

They baked up their cookies, and shared all their presents,

Though they knew the best gift was each other’s presence.

And as the day waned, all the rascals grew tired,

Even Mickey, who usually still would be wired.

They put up their things, all ready to rest,

Awaiting just one gift yet to be expressed.

Elsewhere in the city, a woman alone

Laid reading a Christmas book all on her own.

With no children to hug and no foreheads to kiss,

She wondered if next year would be just like this.

Two times, Mickey cried, “Read the book! Read the book!”

Which earned him from Danny a judgmental look.

But still, he obliged, and as the rat read,

He spoke of the meaning of all the words said.

The story was long, and the rhyme scheme did lumber,

And the trio soon found themselves starting to slumber.

With a smile, Danny read to the rest, snuggled tight;

“Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.”

○●○🎄○●○

Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! And thank you for reading to the end of this massive fic. I've been developing this one all month, and I'm very happy to say it is done. I'm going to take a nap now

[moiravim]

I Miss When We First Met: Chapter 7

YN Potter falls in love with Draco Malfoy. Along with that, her relationship with her brother, Harry begins to fall apart as she was sorted into Slytherin. Will Harry find out about the relationship between his enemy and his sister?

IMWWFM: Masterlist

By the time it was winter, very little had changed. You were planning on spending the holiday at Hogwarts.

Neville had invited you to spend the break with him and his grandmother, but you didn't want to get in the way of him and his life.

"YN, really... She said she'd love to meet you! Your my best friend." He tries to convince you.

"Neville, I want you to go and spend time with your grandma for the holidays. I'll be fine here." You respond, stubbornly.

He nods, responding; "okay... You'll be alright? I really would prefer if you came with..."

You started to feel guilty. He probably thought you didn't want to spend the holiday with him. Realistically, you were just anxious.

"Hmmm... I'll think about it". His face immediately lights up as you say this.

Neville spent the rest of the day trying to convince you, until you finally said yes.

You were horrified, but never continue to reassure you everything would go great.

And it did go great. When you got there, the atmosphere was very calming. It was completely different than the Dursley household.

You felt bad for not celebrating Christmas with the Dursleys, but you knew you'd be happier here. You also heard that Harry was staying at Hogwarts with Ron so that made you feel better.

Neville's grandma had been very sweet, and seemed extremely happy that you came which made you thankful you did.

You made sure to go shopping for gifts before Christmas. You found some things that could help him with his plants. After that you had bought plenty of expensive clothes and accessories, one of them being a golden lion pin.

You had plenty of money and wanted him to feel special this Christmas, as he was your only friend.

You debated buying something for Draco, but in the end decided not to. If he couldn't respect Neville, he didn't deserve your respect.

On Christmas day, Neville was completely overwhelmed by all the gifts you got him. He almost begged you to return some of it, but you responded by saying; "it's nothing. I have lots of money and nowhere to spend it. It'd be a pleasure to spend it on you".

The whole week had been nothing but fun, and you didn't want to go back.

On the first day back, you had seen Neville wearing one of his nice school uniforms you had bought him, as well as the golden lion pin clipped onto his tie.

"You look great!" You say as you walk to the Great Hall with eachother.

Although technically you were supposed to be sitting at the Slytherin table, you often sat at the Gryffindor table with Neville.

When your not sitting with Neville, your sitting near Draco. You feel the same safety eating by him than you did in the common room a few weeks ago.

[seldomscilence16]

Alright so this all started with a lego set at work, turned into a long ass intro, then its 11 on Christmas Eve and I decide to just do the Christmas snippet and finish the rest/context later.

So please ignore spelling 😬 and Happy Holidays all! Also TW for a bit of Racism at one point, theres a bullying scene but a short one. "Well if it isnt..." is where it starts and "there a problem here." Is where it ends.

Hope you enjoy this snippet! Stay safe everyone and thank @autisticlancemcclain for the Bug boy Lance!

...

Lance could kick himself.

He knows better than this. He knows what happens, he knows that once they get what they want, they'll leave.

And yet, here he is, spending hard earned money, on four classmates. Sure he'd saved them for last, focusing on his families gifts first and foremost- its the main reason he got the job, part going to saving for emergencies, the rest to spend on Christmas- but he was doing the thing he'd sworn off.

No people. People hurt and use and lie and tease. Lance was supposed to he strong until college, his fresh start, but then these four had to go and be NICE and do their part and- yeah the bar was really low...

"This isnt going to end well." He mumbles, the hustle and bustle of the mall overwhelming with holiday traffic and leaving him worn out before he even enters an actual store.

He scans aisle after aisle, berating himself for putting so much thought into something he wasnt even supposed to be doing. His eye catches something green and he comes to a halt. Its legos, one of those collectors sets that costs an arm and a leg, but Lance hadn't even known Lego did THIS.

'The insect collection'.

"Blue Morpho Butterfly, Hercules Beetle, and a Chinese Mantis." He breathes in awe, eyes scanning every detail.

"Well if it isnt Mclame."

His head snaps up, a group of classmates before him, most of which are his very reason for his No People rule.

"Still a freak about bugs I see, surprised you havent married one yet- maybe even they dont want you!" He snorts when he laughs, a strange noise from the back of his throat that remind Lance of a Donkey or Pig.

"Not like he could even afford it, if you want you can have your mom come clean my house." One girl taunts from the back, Lances blood boiling at the blatent racist remark despite Lance's CUBAN heritage.

"If you do have money to spare you should buy me lunch instead, for having to be in your vecinity for this long." Another boy plugs his nose, like he showers every day. Lance sits behind him in English, and he does not.

"There a problem here kids?" A man in the mall security uniform eyes them all carefully, eyes giving Lance a once over that makes him uncomfortable.

"No sir." He replies polity, deciding another store may hold better finding anyway- at least better company.

....

Lance's budget was low to begin with, but eventually he comes up with ideas for the four.

It starts with Hunks treats. The things that get them through their library sessions when the projects blur. And Lances job allows him access to plenty of people who would love to share things with anyone who will listen. So painstakingly, Lance translates recipes to paper as the older generations he enteracts with give him a little baking show.

Shiro's, surprisingly, comes next. A single comment about how much he hates ruined shirt sleeves, as they get caught on his prosthetic port. Its winter, and tank tops simply wont do, so Lance finds himself knitting in his spare time. Doing hours of research to see what possibilities will be the most comfortable, with of course a very lame joke on the front.

Pidge's was an accident. Lance's bike- sabataged it would seem- leaves him crashing off path in a ditch on his way home from work. He ends up limping his way through thick folliage, dragging a broken bike in the late hours of the afternoon. The little squeak is almost ignored, the second one however, well its Lance.

The little thing is a puffball, Lance was almost sure it was a toupé, until it moved and blinked at him. He thinks its a dog, no idea what kind, but its tiny and fluffy and following him home. Lance has three allergic family members, but Pidge mentioned a family dog who had sadly passed away and nearly broke Lances heart. The green eyes tell him this little thing will be a lovely match.

Keith is the hardest. Lance honestly almost buys a knife, because the guy is a conspiracy theorist and gets into way too much trouble not to have a few knives on him. But it doesnt seem right.

But Lance see's how often he doodles.

Freakin gorgeous doodles.

Then he finds the brand 'Keff Artistry' and its too close to 'Keef' for Lance to pass up.

...

He almost tells his family to simply lock him up and burn the gifts, but then they'd be worried and he's trying to avoid that thank you, hes been doing an excellent job masking his turmoil thus far.

So, the day before Christmas Eve, Lance gathers his gifts in trembling hands, and slips out of the house unseen. If this turns into a mess, he'll deal with it himself this time. He has to grow up eventually, he cant keep crying about bullies to his family, its not a big deal anyway.

"What the heck happened to your face!?" Pidge's incredulous tone has everyone eyes snapping towards said face.

"Its nothing, bike accident." Lance shrugs it off, as he'd done when he'd come home with it, he had too little proof anyway. Anyone could have carved 'McLame' into the side of it.

"Accident huh?" Its mumbled by someone, but Lance cant place it and decidedly ignores it anyway.

"I uh... have gifts... for you guys." He changes the subject, directing the attention to the bags he carries.

"For us?" Hunk asks, eyes wide and sparkly, "You know you didnt have to buddy."

Well, supposedly.

"Yeah, its not much, but uh, here." He hands them out carefully, extra careful with Pidge's.

"Guess its a good thing we brought ours to you then." Shiro says, pulling a wrapped box from the spare chair.

Lance's eyebrows furrow, staring at the box in confusion, perhaps with a little trepidation,

"You guys got me something?"

"Yeah! We all pitched in!" Pidge grins at him, something she does sparingly- grin that is.

He takes it with clammy hands, still shaking ever so slightly. He holds it to his chest as he watches the others open their bags, watches their faces carefully.

Hunk holds the hand bound book tenderly, eyes shining as he flips through the pages carefully.

Shiro stares in awe at his sweater, a chuckle escaping him as he runs his fingers over the soft material.

Pidge squeaks, as the small dog bumps its head against her face, cold nose sniffing excitedly. She holds the animal close, the dog snuggling up like he always belonged there.

Keith is staring at his gift. The art set held half out of the bag, as if he hadnt been expecting it. He turns wide eyes towards Lance, and the cuban can see the emotions there.

This is one of Lance's favorite parts about giving. When he did good in the eyes of the reciever, when they LIKE what he gave, genuinely. No matter its monetary value.

"Lance, this is amazing." Shiro breaks the silence, turning wide eyes his way, smile big and bright and real.

"I cant imagine how long this took, this is amazing! I havent even heard of some of these!!!" Hunk is tearing up, book hugged to his chest, grinning at Lance like he'd been given a great treasure.

"I cant believe you got me a dog! He's just a little puff!" The excitement is so nice to hear, its practically contageous.

"I... havent recieved something this nice from anyone but family before. Thanks Lance." Keith is downright shy as he admits this little fact about himself, and Lance could cry.

"I'm... really glad you guys like them."

"Now open yours!" Hunk encourages quickly, sitting to watch him intently, practically vibrating.

Lance could almost feel scared, but....

He allows himself a little hope.

He opens the paper gingerly, savoring his first gift from anyone outside of family. A corner is revealed, familiar for some reason, another inch-

Lego Ideas The Insect Collection.

"What-" It comes out choked, shock clear on his face.

Is it a joke? Are they mocking him? It was expensive, theres no way they'd spend that much on a joke right?

"Its the one you wanted right?" Pidge asks, a slight pinch to her brow.

"We only saw you from across the mall, so we didn't know- You're crying oh Gods, whats wrong Buddy-" Shiro Panics, quickly kneeling by the chair Lance had collapsed into.

"I don- Why- I can't- "

"Breathe! Come on-" Hunk exagerates his own, encouraging Lance gently to follow as he chokes on tears and air and spit alike.

"Its not a joke right?" He finally gets out, looking pleadingly to the group, running a reverant hand across the box, "You did this to be nice?" He can hear the vulnurability in his own voice, but he's about a second from breaking completely.

"Yes, yes, of course! All 1,111 pieces are inside!" Shiro assures quickly, rubbing a soothing hand over his shoulder and arm.

It gets a wet chuckle from Lance, as he pulls the box to his chest once more.

"No ones... thank you so much, I can't... can't tell you how much this means." He wipe at his face, "I'll repay you, I promise-"

"Hey, its a gift Lance." Keith says, voice softer than ever, "We wanted to get it for you."

"Merry Christmas Lance."

"Merry Christmas."

[kyleraynermybeloved]

Blanket Fort 🎄-Day One

Pairing: Kyle Rayner x GN!Reader Summary: What's the best way to spend a cold and tiring day? Building a blanket fort of course!. Warnings: Christmas mention but not focused, fluff. Word Count: 1,153 A/N: The first fic of the 25 Holiday Event is here!!! 25 Day Holiday Event Masterlist | Masterlist

The sound of the small space heater filled the air as you sat curled up on the couch with a book, bundled in blankets to fight off the cold air.

The furnace had broken days earlier, a call to the H-VAC company told you they wouldn’t be able to get anyone out until the end of the weekend, they were having some maintenance problems that had them closed for the week. So you had Kyle purchase some electric space heaters that rotated around the home to keep most areas warm.

The two of you found the living room stayed the warmest and had nestled up there every night. It was a good thing Kyle had talked you into purchasing the more expensive couch because it was definitely worth the money spent.

The front door opened with a chilling breeze, grabbing your attention as you watched Kyle shut it quickly behind him, face rosy and hair disheveled from the cold wind. You felt your cheeks heat up as he spotted you from the doorway, instantly giving you a loving smile, one that you returned after a moment to take in his appearance.

“Was your day alright?” You asked, setting down your book which was long forgotten.

“Yeah, it would have been better if I had brought more layers. The studio was colder than outside, I don’t even know how that was possible.” He shrugged off his coat that was almost soaked through from the slushy snow. The idea of having to traverse outside made you inwardly cringe, you knew he had to be freezing and uncomfortable.

“Why don’t you take a warm shower and I’ll put on a movie for us when you get out.” You suggested.

He kicked off his shoes by the entrance and walked to you, leaning over the couch to give you a kiss. “That sounds like a great idea, I won’t be too long then.”

You hummed happily as he walked towards the bedroom. Hearing the bathroom door close and the water turn on, you came up with an idea that would help him relax. That idea required lots and lots of blankets and pillows, you knew your large blanket collection would come in handy one day.

You walked to where you had stashed your blanket hoard and grabbed everything you needed, setting them on the couch. You stood with your hands on your hips, glancing around to figure out where it would be best to start.

It would make sense if the large couch was the main structure but you wondered if it would be better to use the floor and have the couch serve as extra back support instead. After a few more moments of contemplating you decided on abandoning your thoughts and began on setting up the fort.

If you couldn’t choose between the two, why not just do both? That way you’d have more space to use when you would start feeling too cramped in one area.

You didn’t hear Kyle come back to the living room when you were halfway done, freshly showered and bundled up in warm pajamas.

“Woah! This is incredible!” Kyle expressed in wonder, his hands found their way around your waist pulling you in a hug. You turned in his arms so you were facing him, tightening your own hold.

“You weren’t supposed to be out yet, it’s not done.” You said with a pout. He laughed before giving a peck on your nose.

“You’ve already done an impressive job, it looks amazing. But now that I’m here I can help.” Kyle replied.

The floor was covered with thick blankets, each strategically placed to provide more cushion. The pillows were arranged as a makeshift border surrounding the area; larger and thinner blankets had been used as the fort’s canopy.

“The only thing left to do is to bring more space heaters and get the thicker blankets and we’re all set.” You said with a nod. “Would you mind doing that while I change into my pajamas? I don’t want to be left out of the comfy train, not while you’re leading it.”

You felt more than heard the deep hearty chuckle Kyle let out. “Yeah, of course. Go change party pooper.”

By the time you changed and came back Kyle had turned off all the lights, save for the ones on the Christmas tree, and had chosen a movie to put on.

It was honestly a breathtaking sight to see. Kyle had been laid out on the couch, one arm positioned behind his head in support while the other lay over his midsection. The dim glow of the lights on the tree had painted Kyle in a radiant light that you swore rivaled that of one of the wonders of the world, it made your heart beat faster seeing him like this.

“Don’t you look comfortable.” You cleared your throat.

“I will be once you’re curled up next to me.” He moved farther back into the couch to give you room in front of him. You rolled your eyes in mock annoyance, smiling to yourself.

You crouched down to walk into the blanket fort, settling into the spot next to him. Kyle pulled one of the many blankets over the both of you, wrapping his free arm around you, pressing play on the movie.

The tv light brightened up the blanket fort around you, creating a soft atmosphere that made you drowsy. It felt like the world had been cut off and the only thing that existed was this little bubble you created.

“Thank you for this, I really needed it.” Kyle whispered. You would have missed it if he wasn’t right next to you.

“For you, anything.” You replied sleepily, it was getting harder to keep your eyes open. If it were even possible he pulled you closer against his chest, lazily tracing shapes on your arm. “Plus it beats sleeping in the cold, it’s doing a good job at keeping us warm.”

He let out a yawn, slumber calling to him as well. “I really hope we get the furnace fixed soon, otherwise I might just have to take things into my own hands.”

That would not end well. Kyle is not the best guy for maintenance, last time he tried to fix something it had been the stove, and the place nearly went up in flames.

“Kyle, I love you but there is no way I’m letting you touch that thing.” You said through your own yawn. You did not have to look at him to know he rolled his eyes, you could practically feel him doing it.

“Go to sleep you big meany,” He huffed out. “And I love you too.”

The two of you stayed like that, making comments on the movie that was nearly forgotten, wrapped up in each other's presence that was amplified in the small fort. Whispering until eventually sleep took hold.

[leasstories]

Lea’s advent calendar day 25 - A “fake” date

@writerthreads writing prompt for Christmas (2022), prompt 18 :

[fake dating for a Christmas party/ball]

Eddie x fem!reader

No trigger warning

WC: ≈ 0.8K

December 18th, 1987

Your university decided to organize a Christmas ball during the first week-end of the holidays, one problem: all of your friends have a date except you, so the first person who comes to your mind to have a fake boyfriend is your childhood best friend Eddie.

Eddie is currently still living in Hawkins and works as a bartender at the Hideout. You really hope Eddie doesn’t wrk tomorrow because you don’t feel like you’ll be capable of going to this ball alone. You’ve already have had a hard time adapting to the life of a university student and didn’t really made friends, so you really have no one to go the ball with.

You take a deep breathe before dialing Eddie’s phone number, Eddie answers right away.

“Sweetheart!” Eddie exclaims

“Hi Eds” you tell him nervously.

“How is life at university?” He asks.

“It’s good” you lie. “About that… I have a request, if you’re free tomorrow of course” You tell him, anxiously fiddling with the phone’s cords.

“Anything Sweetheart” Eddie answers.

“Would you accept to be my fake date at the university’s Christmas ball?” You ask nervously fidgeting even more with the phone’s cord.

Eddie takes a deep breathe. “You know I hate those kind of crap”

“I know” you say already disappointed.

“But if I’m your only solution, I can make an effort for you” Eddie continues.

“Oh my god! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You tell Eddie excited.

“You’re welcome Sweetheart” Eddie says, chuckling at your excitement.

As soon as you hung up with Eddie, you rushed to the closest store and bought a long red dress, yo bought, according to you, the prettiest one within your budget.

The next day, you wake up all nervous and excited at the same time, and I can assure you it’s not a good combination. Thank god you do not have a roommate because you woke up super early and you’ve been so excited that you can’t help but be active. Once you know the hairdresser from the corner is open you rush downstairs and go spend some of your spare money on. More elaborated hair style. Even if you pretend not caring about what people think of you, it isn’t true, besides you also want to impress Eddie.

After your trip to the hairdresser, you spend hours trying different make up combinations until you finally found the one. You finish at 4pm and put on your dress. Eddie is supposed to arrive at 5:30 pm and the ball starts at 6:30 pm. You’re so nervous.

You hate this fake dating thing with Eddie. Not because of people’s opinion, no. But because you have had a crush on him since the two of you hit puberty. But apparently this crush is unrequited and Eddie considers you like your best friend and that’s all. You would rather have him as a best friend than lose him altogether so you’ve been keeping quiet about it for years now.

But deep down, you hope that maybe, seeing you all pretty will make him realize that you are indeed attractive. You jump from your bed when you hear a knock at your bedroom door. You rushes to open it, and there, stands Eddie Munson, in a suit!

“Hello handsome” you say smiling.

“Hello beautiful” Eddie answers.

“Come on in” you say, once Eddie came into the room, you close the door.

“Okay so do we have a backstory?” Eddie asks.

You shrug. “High School Sweethearts?” You say but it sounds more like a question.

“Yeah cool. Best friends who started dating?” Eddie asks.

“Yep” you say, popping the “p”.

A little while later, Eddie and you go to the room in which the ball takes place, when you and Eddie enter the room, all eyes are on you and your boyfriend for the night.

Every time someone goes talking to you and Eddie (well they are mostly talking to Eddie), you have to pretend you’re a stupidly happy couple. It hurts to know that all of this is just pretending, that Eddie isn’t *really* in lobe with you.

It’s time for the slow dance. You wrap your hands around Eddie’s neck and he wrap his around your hips. You slow dance like this for four songs and at the beginning of the fifth, Eddie leans closer to you. You know what is going to happen and you don’t even care if its just pretending, yo want to know how Eddie’s plush lips will feel against yours. Eddie kisses you breathless and when you part, he admits.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

“Me too…” you confess.

“We’re so stupid” Eddie says chuckling before kissing you again.

What started as fake dating blossomed into really dating.