#is it that time for christmas spirit already???

[hoonven]

CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS

2K ⸺ a moment of clarity brings you back to your fiancé, flour-dusted and waiting, and somehow, amid the remnants of your champagne problems, you find hope stirring in the winter air

‎PAIRING! fiancé!park sunghoon x female reader

GENRES! fluff, angst, established relationship, hurt/comfort

WARNINGS! mentions of emotionally absent parents, brief mention of food, the reader struggles with overcoming childhood fears, i think that’s it lmk if i missed anything

Park Sunghoon was like snow, a silent beauty in the unforgiving frigid season of winter. He was the joy of building snowmen, the thrill of snowball fights, and the wonder of making snow angels. He was the delicate touch of snowflakes melting on your skin, the serene hush of snowfall blanketing the world. He was the sweetness of gingerbread cookies and the warmth of hot cocoa brimming with marshmallows. He was the comfort of a flickering fireplace, the softness of a fuzzy blanket wrapped tightly around you, the subtle perfume of winter spices from a burning candle.

Park Sunghoon was like snow—pure, ethereal, and timeless. He shone like the star atop a Christmas tree, his presence brought the excitement of a gift waiting to be unwrapped. He was the nostalgia of holiday movies you’ve seen a hundred times, yet never grew tired of.

Park Sunghoon was winter’s magic, a special spirit that blessed the earth in all its glory.

So why did you feel the biting cold?

It was exactly a year ago on Christmas Eve, and his proposal was perfect. The snow-covered gazebo twinkled with string lights, the crisp air carried the scent of pine, and a soft melody of carolers drifted from the town square. His hand, trembling but steady, had pulled a blue velvet box from his coat pocket. He smiled, warm and sure, as if he already knew your answer.

“Will you marry me?” he’d asked. The four simple words spoken in the kind of voice that could thaw an endless winter.

Your heart swelled, your hands shook, and you whispered a quiet “yes.” But later that night, as you laid in bed staring at the ceiling while the world outside froze over, doubt crept in like frost spreading across a windowpane.

Your mother’s voice rang in your ears, in weary resignation. You remembered how she used to sit by the window in the afternoons, staring out at a world she never felt part of anymore. “I gave up everything,” she had said once. “For my kids. For my husband. And look where it got me.”

The memory tightened around your chest like a vice. Sunghoon wasn’t like your father—he wasn’t distant, distracted, or cold. He was attentive, affectionate, and endlessly patient. But still, what if? What if marrying him meant losing yourself, too? What if everything started out great and then slowly got worse just like it did for your parents?

“Talk to me,” he said one evening, his voice soft but firm as he pulled you from the kitchen where you’d been stirring a pot of soup you didn't intend to eat. The engagement ring on your finger catches the light, a reminder of the promise you made but aren’t sure you can keep.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, refusing to meet his eyes.

“You’re lying.” His hands gently rest on your shoulders, his thumbs brushing reassuring circles. “You’ve been somewhere else since last Christmas Eve.”

You paused for a moment, caught off guard. You had almost forgotten how good he was at psychologizing you in the midst of your internal battle. But you lie again—because it's what comes most naturally to you when someone asks if you're okay.

“It’s nothing. I’m just stressed.”

“It’s not nothing. I can see it on your face. Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

His persistence feels like sunlight breaking through clouds, but you’re not ready to let the warmth in. You pull away, wrapping your arms around yourself as if shielding your heart from his. “I just… I don’t know if I can do this. What if I end up like my mom? What if I lose myself in this, Sunghoon?”

The words hang in the air like smoke, and for a moment, his expression cracks—hurt flickering across his features like a candle about to go out. But then he steps closer, his voice steady, gentle. “You’re not your mom. And I’m not your dad. Your mom had dreams, ambitions—things she was passionate about just like you. But the difference is you found someone who loves that about you. I would never ask you to give any of that up.”

“But what if I do anyway?” you whispered, tears stinging your eyes. “What if I forget who I am because I love you too much?”

“Then I’ll remind you,” he said simply. “Every day, if I have to.”

His words chipped away at the icy wall you had built around yourself, but fear is a stubborn thing, clinging even as warmth seeps in.

You suppose that's why you're sitting on a couch, staring at the framed watercolor painting on the wall—something abstract, meant to be calming, but to you, it’s just a swirl of indistinct shapes. Your hands fidget with the hem of your knit sweater as the snow-laden world outside the window reflects your mood: quiet, heavy, and cold.

“Y/N?”

The sound of your name pulls you back. Your therapist, Dr. Hart, leans forward slightly, her pen poised over her notepad. Her voice is soft, patient. “What’s on your mind?”

You blink, feeling the heat of her steady gaze. “Oh, um…” You hesitate, glancing down at your hands. “Nothing, really. Just lost in thought.”

Dr. Hart tilts her head, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Nothing’s rarely ever nothing. Take your time.”

For a moment, the room feels too small, too quiet, but you exhale and decide to speak. “Sunghoon,” you admit softly.

“Your fiancé?”

You nod, feeling a pang in your chest as the word settles between you. Fiancé. It’s supposed to feel joyful, exciting, but lately, it’s felt complicated.

“I love him,” you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. “I really do. He’s kind, supportive, and everything I could ever ask for in a man. But ever since he proposed, I’ve been… scared?”

Dr. Hart doesn’t interrupt, her expression open and encouraging.

“I keep thinking about my parents,” you continue. “My mom gave up everything to be with my dad. She stopped working, stayed home to raise me and my siblings, and over time, she just… lost herself. She used to love winning lawsuits for her clients, but eventually, all she did was clean and cook and wait for him to come home. She became so bitter, and my dad barely noticed. I don’t want that to happen to me. I don’t want to lose myself like she did.”

“And you’re afraid marrying Sunghoon will put you on the same path,” Dr. Hart says, her voice gentle.

You nod, your throat tightening. “I know Sunghoon isn’t my dad. He’s nothing like him. But what if I am like my mom? What if, without meaning to, I give up who I am because I love him too much?”

Dr. Hart lets the silence linger for a moment before speaking. “It sounds like you’ve built a wall around yourself, trying to protect your identity and your independence. And that’s not a bad thing—those parts of you are important. But Y/N, have you ever asked yourself this: is Sunghoon asking you to give those parts up?”

You blink, her question catching you off guard, and you're reminded of your conversation with him a few days ago when he pulled you out of the kitchen. “No,” you admit quietly. “He’s always encouraging me to do what I love. And reminding me to take breaks when I get too wrapped up in work.”

Dr. Hart nods thoughtfully. “It seems to me that the fear you’re holding onto doesn’t come from Sunghoon. It comes from your past—from what you saw in your parents’ relationship. You’ve taken that fear and made it your own, but it doesn’t have to be. You are not your mother, and Sunghoon is not your father. Their story is not yours.”

Her words land like a stone sinking into water, rippling through your thoughts.

“But what if I still mess it up?” you ask, your voice small. “What if I get it wrong?”

Dr. Hart smiles gently. “Every relationship takes work, compromise, and communication. But the fact that you’re here, reflecting on your fears, tells me you care deeply about doing this right. Sunghoon sounds like someone who sees you for who you are and loves you as you are. Maybe the question isn’t about whether you’ll lose yourself but whether you’ll allow yourself to trust you—and him.”

The knot in your chest loosens, her words settling like fresh snow over the chaos in your mind.

“Trust him,” you echo softly, more to yourself than to her.

Dr. Hart nods. “And trust yourself. You are not defined by your parents’ choices. You have the power to create the future you desire.”

For the first time in a year, the weight on your shoulders feels a little lighter. You leave the session feeling like the frost in your heart is starting to melt, warmed by the realization that maybe, just maybe, you can be brave enough to trust in the love you’ve found—and the person you’ve grown to be.

The smell hits you first—something warm and sweet, mingling with the faintest hint of something burning. You push open the front door, stepping into the glow of the tiny Christmas tree you and Sunghoon had decorated last week. Lights twinkle softly, casting shadows that dance on the walls, but it’s the sound of soft muttering coming from the kitchen that makes you smile.

When you round the corner, you stop in your tracks.

Sunghoon is standing by the counter, dusted in flour from his hair to his slippers, poking at a tray of slightly misshapen cookies. He’s wearing the most outrageously festive apron you’ve ever seen—bright red with cartoon reindeer and candy canes, a pair of oven mittens that look like Santa’s hands resting on the counter. His brow is furrowed in concentration as he lifts one cookie with a spatula, only for it to crumble in half.

“Oh, come on,” he grumbles under his breath, shaking his head.

You press a hand over your mouth to stifle a laugh, but the sound escapes anyway, and his head snaps up.

“You’re home,” he says, his eyes lighting up despite the flour smudged on his cheek. “Uh, surprise?”

“What are you doing?” you ask, stepping closer.

He shrugs sheepishly, glancing at the mess on the counter. “I thought I’d try making your favorite holiday cookies. You know, the ones your mom always made? I figured it might cheer you up.” He winces as he looks at the tray. “But, uh, they didn’t turn out as planned. I think I overdid the ginger or… probably everything.”

Your chest tightens, but not with anxiety this time. It’s the kind of warmth that spreads slowly, filling the cracks you’ve been carrying.

You see it then, as clear as the frost on the windowpane: you are not your mother, and Sunghoon is not your father.

Your mother gave up everything, but you won’t. You’ve built a life filled with love, with purpose, with someone who sees you for who you are and encourages you to be more. Sunghoon doesn’t take from you—he gives.

The thought warms you like a fire on a cold winter night.

“Sunghoon,” you whisper, your voice catching.

He frowns, stepping toward you. “What’s wrong? Did something happen at therapy?”

You shake your head, and before he can say anything else, you close the distance between you, wrapping your arms around him tightly. He freezes for a moment, surprised, then melts into the hug, his arms slipping around your waist.

“I love you,” you murmur into his shoulder. “And I'm sorry for being so distant, for letting my fears get in the way. You’ve been so patient with me, and I should’ve trusted you more. Trusted myself more. I should’ve trusted us more.”

“I love you, Sunghoon, and I want to marry you.” You say, the words spilling out like a confession. “I just needed time to remember that I’m not her. And you’re not him.”

His hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, his touch gentle. “Hey, it’s okay,” he says softly. “I know you’ve been through a lot. I just wanted to remind you that I’m here, no matter what.”

You pull back slightly to look at him, tears pricking your eyes. “We’re gonna be okay, right?” you ask, your voice trembling.

His gaze is steady, warm, as he cups your cheek with his flour-dusted hand. “We’re gonna be more than okay. You’re not her, Y/N. You’re you—stubborn in all the best ways.” His lips quirk into a small smile. “And you’re stuck with me, reindeer apron and all.”

A laugh bubbles out of you, light and free. “You look ridiculous by the way,” you say, brushing a smudge of flour from his cheek.

“Ridiculously handsome,” he counters with a grin.

You roll your eyes but lean in to kiss him, a silent promise in the way your lips meet. Outside, snow falls softly, blanketing the world in a quiet peace. And in his arms, you finally feel warm.

© 2024 hoonven, all rights reserved. i do not give permission to modify, repost, translate, or plagiarize my works on any platform

NETWORK! @kstrucknet

[brattyfics]

Not So Secret Santa

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Summary: Eve Dillard’s favorite holiday has lost its sparkle since a painful breakup, leaving her to navigate another lonely Christmas. But when a familiar snow globe from a secret admirer resurfaces, she’s drawn back into the past. The gift leads her to reconnect with Terry Richmond, a high school friend and long-lost crush who’s returned from military service. As their reunion stirs up old feelings, Eve is reminded of the magic of the season and the possibility of rediscovered love.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Holiday Rom-Com Coded

Word Count: 11K+

2024

Christmas had always been Eve Dillard’s favorite time of year.

The cold winter nights were perfect for curling up with a steaming mug of hot chocolate, the scent of cinnamon, nutmeg, and fresh pine wrapping around Eve like a warm hug. Dressed in her favorite cozy pajamas, she'd let the crackling gas fireplace set the mood while losing herself in the comfort of holiday classics. Christmas wasn’t just a season for Eve—it was part of her identity. Her parents had named her after the holiday, and her siblings carried that same festive spirit in their names: Joy, Noelle, and their baby brother, Emmanuelle.

In the Dillard house, Christmas was magic.

Her mother, Diane Dillard, always turned every room into a wonderland, filling it with sparkling ornaments and twinkling lights. The family hosted a Christmas Eve party that felt like a reunion, with friends and family gathered around a table full of treats: rich red velvet cake, fudgy brownies, and the smoothest frosted pound cake you could imagine. Eve and her siblings would stay up late decorating gingerbread houses, listening to the grown folks talk. Those late nights became a tradition that grounded her in the best kind of holiday joy.

But after Eve turned twenty-five, things started to shift.

Five Christmases ago, her on-again, off-again high school sweetheart, Keith, had shattered her heart. She’d tried to move on, ventured back into the dating scene, but each attempt ended in disappointment. With each passing holiday season, dating felt like an even more hopeless endeavor. The men in her age range were either already in relationships or still out here playing games with women’s hearts. Unfortunately, Christmas had become a cold reminder of what she didn’t have. 

Her siblings were all paired off—her two sisters had married solid, loving men and were chasing toddlers around the house. Even her baby brother had popped the question and was planning his wedding. And her parents? Their love was still as strong as ever, evident in the flirtatious teasing and laughter that echoed through the house whenever they bickered. There she was, the odd one out, especially during the holidays, when it seemed like everyone else was wrapped up in their own love stories.

Now, Christmas felt like a series of awkward work parties and forced smiles, nothing like the fun she remembered. If it wasn’t her aunties grilling her about meeting someone new, it was her cousins teasing her about her “bad luck” with men. The office celebrations, planned weeks ahead so coworkers could celebrate before their holiday leave, left the season feeling drawn out and exhausting. By the time Christmas Day arrived, the festivities felt stale, and Eve found herself just going through the motions, making polite conversation while secretly wishing she could fast-forward to January.

This year, things had gotten even more vexing—Eve had drawn Malik from IT for Secret Santa. Malik wasn’t bad to look at, but he spent more time flirting with every woman in the office than actually doing his job. His antics were enough to make Eve roll her eyes, turning the already-dreaded gift exchange into yet another holiday hurdle. Eventually, she settled on a simple set of pens and a plain notebook—safe, practical, and totally forgettable.

Even as she wrapped the gift, Eve felt the weight of monotony. With no new work crushes or dating prospects to look forward to, Eve’s workdays blurred together—endless paperwork, the same beige-gray office walls, and another holiday season passing in a haze of office chatter. It was easy to tune it all out, to just go through the motions. But then the day came—the day for the office gift exchange

“This one’s for Eve!” Ms. Ruby, the vibrant office manager, called out with her signature enthusiasm. At a proud seventy years young, Ms. Ruby was a force of nature, always stepping into the office with bold, jazzy outfits that matched her lively personality. “A gift from my husband, going on forty-something years strong!” she’d say with a wink whenever someone admired her latest accessory. Mr. Charles was forever splurging on a new costume jewelry set or a fresh pair of colorful shoes, each piece a reflection of his love for her style.

Eve rose from her seat, accepting the green gift bag with a polite smile. Maybe she’d never have a husband of forty-something years who appreciated her inside and out, but at least someone had remembered her favorite color. As she pulled back the tissue paper, her fingers brushed against something smooth and solid nestled inside.

When she lifted the delicate snow globe, Eve’s breath caught in her throat. Inside was a Black princess, a tiny crown perched on her head, surrounded by glittering snowflakes—just like the one she’d had as a child but lost during her senior year of high school.

"Oh my god!" Eve exclaimed, her voice filled with surprise and joy. She looked around the room, eyes sparkling. "Who got me this? I love it!" Her gaze swept across her coworkers, but everyone just shrugged, their smiles barely containing their amusement. Eve's eyes locked with Ms. Ruby’s, who wore a knowing smirk, as if she were in on some secret.

Whoever had chosen this gift had clearly gone to great lengths—it hadn’t been made in nearly twenty years. Who knew her well enough to find something so perfect? Who cared enough to hunt down something so meaningful? She dug through the bag for a card, hoping to find a name, but there was only a blank tag.

She shook the globe, and her eyes lit up as the snowflakes swirled around the princess. But then, tucked underneath it, a flash of highlighter pink caught her eye. She picked up the sticky note, the handwriting oddly familiar, but she couldn’t place it right away: 

I hope you like this gift. It was difficult to find, but seeing you smile will be worth it. From your secret admirer.

Eve scanned the room again, but no one said a word—not even Malik, who was wearing that same smug grin of his. Have I ever seen his handwriting? she wondered, cringing at the thought of him being her secret Santa. Still, the gift was too thoughtful to dismiss, and she couldn't help but feel touched. “Whoever did this, thank you so much,” she said, her voice sincere. “This is honestly the best gift I could’ve gotten.”

The mystery lingered with Eve throughout the rest of the day. She couldn’t help but keep glancing around, half-expecting someone to fess up about being her Secret Santa, but no one did. Eventually, she wandered over to Ruby’s desk, hoping for a clue.

“That defeats the whole point of Secret Santa, baby,” Ms. Ruby said with a laugh, shaking her head as she shuffled through some papers.

Eve leaned casually against the back of Ruby's ergonomic chair. "It's only a secret 'til the gift’s out the bag, Ms. Ruby," she teased. “You already went and told everybody else’s Secret Santa. What’s so special about mine?”

Ms. Ruby glanced up from her stack of paperwork, her eyes twinkling with mischief before she moved quicker than Eve could have expected, swatting her lightly on the behind with the pile of papers.

“Ms. Ruby!” Eve yelped, jumping to the side, a surprised laugh escaping her lips.

“I told you to leave me be so I can get some work done!” Ms. Ruby shooed her away, her lips curling into a mock-serious frown. Eve didn’t have to look twice to know the older woman was more about looking busy than actually doing any paperwork. Working was just her way of staying active—keeping her mind sharp, like the rest of her.

As Eve turned to walk away, she grinned, rolling her eyes. “That woman’s a whole mess,” she murmured under her breath, her lips curling in affection despite herself.

Thoughts of her mysterious Secret Santa stayed with Eve the whole way home, nagging at her while she threw together a quick dinner and cleaned the kitchen. She couldn’t help but replay the moment she’d opened the snow globe, trying to figure out who had picked it out for her. But by the time she’d showered and got comfortable for the evening, her mind had wandered to other things—like what outfit she was going to rock on Christmas Day. She was ready to stunt a little, show her cousins what being childless did for her pockets and her closet.

By the time Eve got to work the next morning, she’d managed to push the mystery to the back of her mind. That is, until she sat down at her desk and spotted another sticky note with that same, familiar handwriting:

I’m glad you liked the gift. I knew it’d bring that beautiful smile of yours to life. If you're wondering who's behind it, I’d love to show you. Meet me for lunch at 1:00 PM—there’s a new spot two blocks down, and I’ve got us a table. Hope you can make it, Eve.

Eve bit her bottom lip, torn between caution and curiosity. Meeting someone like this, all wrapped in mystery, didn’t exactly feel safe or smart. Why all the secrecy? Why leave notes instead of just saying it out loud? How did they know about her smile without even being there? Could her Secret Santa have been watching from the shadows all along, without ever revealing themselves? The thought sent a chill down her spine. But in the end, curiosity won out.

Eve made sure to let Ms. Ruby know where she’d be and when to expect her back. Ms. Ruby’s knowing smile eased her nerves just enough as she stepped out into the brisk winter air, the chill nipping at her cheeks. 

As she walked to the restaurant, Eve quickly texted her siblings the details—just to be safe. She wasn’t taking any chances, especially with the mystery hanging over her head.

When she stepped inside the restaurant, her gloved hands folded nervously in front of her, she took in the cozy ambiance. Soft R&B holiday classics played in the background, and the space glowed with candlelight and pine-scented garlands. Couples leaned in close, lost in their own world. Eve hesitated, feeling self-conscious standing alone at the entrance, until a young waitress approached her with a warm, welcoming smile.

"Are you Eve?"

Eve blinked, startled for a moment. "Yeah, that's me."

"Come on, I’ll show you to your table."

With a mix of curiosity and just a touch of apprehension, Eve followed the waitress further into the restaurant. “Where are we headed?” she asked, doing her best to keep her nerves in check.

“There’s a private area in the back,” the waitress replied with a friendly smile, leading her behind a velvet curtain. Despite the uneasy flutter in her chest, Eve pushed her doubts aside. She wasn’t about to turn back now after coming this far.

On the other side of the curtain, a single table was set up in the center of a cozy, golden-lit room. Sitting there, dressed in a crisp button-down shirt and slacks, was a man she hadn’t seen in what felt like ages. His rich honey-brown skin practically glowed in the soft light, and those blue-green eyes of his, sparkling with that same familiar warmth, made her heart skip a beat.

“Terry?” she whispered, the disbelief clear in her voice.

He stood, tall as she remembered, and before she knew it, she was in his arms. She jumped up, and he caught her easily, holding her close as she clung tightly to his neck

“It’s been way too long!” Eve exclaimed, her excitement bubbling over as Terry lifted her off her feet, giving her a playful shake before setting her back down. The little girl inside her couldn’t help but squeal.

"Far too long," Terry agreed, his eyes softening as he met her gaze, holding her just a moment longer than necessary before gently lowering her back to the ground.

Eve slapped his arm, still grinning. "What are you doing here? When did you get back?"

“You haven’t changed a bit, Eve—still running that mouth a mile a minute,” Terry teased, his grin wide as he motioned for her to take a seat. Eve sank into the chair, but her gaze stayed locked on him, still struggling to believe he was really here.

They’d been close since childhood, but after graduation, Terry had enlisted in the Marines, and keeping in touch had been impossible. First, it was radio silence during boot camp, then sporadic updates as he climbed the ranks. Meanwhile, she’d dived into her studies, focused on finishing college and earning her degree, though thoughts of him had never been far from her mind. Every time she tried to reach out, something always got in the way.

Eve found herself momentarily frozen, taking in the scent of his cologne and the sharp look of his neatly styled short Afro. "You look good, Terry," she said, though the word "good" didn’t even come close to doing him justice. He’d filled out in all the right places, his frame broader than she remembered. It was clear the Marines had only made him more disciplined, more focused. The tall, lean teenager she remembered had transformed into a man who was clearly all grown up, his muscular build a testament to the years he'd spent shaping himself.

"You look even better." His gaze swept over her, making her pulse race. Eve couldn’t help the flutter in her chest, but she quickly shook it off. She’d grown into her own as well—filled out, gotten more comfortable in her skin, and her acne-prone days were long behind her. But this was Terry. He didn’t see her that way, and she was far too grown to be stuck on an old crush.

"So, for real, what brings you back home?" she asked, forcing herself to focus on the present.

"I'm done with the service now. Retired," Terry said with a shrug. "Figured it was time to come back home, settle down, and start a new chapter. Everyone I care about is here, so it felt like the right place to make it happen."

"Your mama must be over the moon!"

“Over the moon is an understatement,” he chuckled, the edges of his voice softening. “She wanted to throw me a big welcome-back party, but I told her I’d rather reconnect with folks one-on-one.”

"Well, I’m glad I made the list," Eve grinned. "I ran into your mom a few weeks ago, and she didn’t say anything about you coming back!"

Terry smirked. "She didn’t know yet. Can’t give her too much notice, or she’ll have the whole block—and probably folks from here to California—waiting to meet me at the airport." He chuckled, the sound rich and familiar, making Eve feel that comforting pull of home she didn’t even realize she’d been missing.

Eve burst out laughing. "My mama’s the same way! I hear her on the phone all the time, talking about me like, ‘Evie’s still single, y’all; I guess she’s waiting on Jesus.’" She mimicked her mother’s voice so spot-on it had Terry cracking up.

“What happened with ol’ boy—what was his name again?” Terry teased, pretending to forget. Eve shook her head, rolling her eyes.

“You mean Keith? We called it quits a while ago.”

“What happened? I thought y’all were gonna be the next Barack and Michelle?”

Eve laughed, the humor hitting her differently now. “Life happened. It just wasn’t meant to be, and I’m good with that.” She wasn’t about to dive into the gory details. She’d healed and moved on. Keith was a chapter she’d closed long ago.

“You were way too good for him, anyway.” Eve’s heart skipped a beat, and she wasn’t prepared for the warmth that spread through her at his words.

She raised an eyebrow, suddenly piecing everything together. “Wait a minute—don’t tell me you were the one behind those secret admirer notes?”

“Guilty as charged,” Terry said with a grin. “Figured I owed you a snow globe after all these years.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “You took my snow globe? I looked everywhere for that thing!”

“I didn’t take it,” Terry admitted, a guilty grin tugging at his lips. “But I did break it.”

Eve gasped, her hand flying to her chest as though he’d confessed to a grand crime. “You broke it?”

“It was an accident!” Terry quickly added, his chuckles softening the blow. “Your dad called you downstairs, and I got a little too close to the shelf. Next thing I know—glass shattering, glitter flying—everything was on the floor.”

Eve laughed, shaking her head, already picturing her younger self stomping around in frustration. But now, the whole situation seemed almost too ridiculous not to laugh about. “How’d you manage to hide it from me?”

“I cleaned it up quick and grabbed a towel from your bathroom. It was fine—except for the glitter. That stuff was everywhere—on the floor, on my hands. But since you never said anything, I figured I got away with it.”

“Terry Richmond,” Eve said with a playful squint, “You’re a whole mess!”

“But I made it right, didn’t I?” His smile was a slow, satisfied curve, his blue-green eyes sparkling with the joy of being so close to her again. “And when I saw that look on your face—”

“Wait, hold up,” Eve interrupted, her eyes narrowing playfully, “You were there yesterday?”

"Guess I forgot to mention it. We're coworkers now. I’m the head of security," He leaned back, his eyes locking with hers. "Been around, making sure everything’s tight," he added with a half-smile. He didn’t mention how he'd been keeping an eye on her from the cameras, just to make sure she was safe from all those corporate threats: staples, paper cuts, and heavy boxes…you know, the dangerous stuff. "It might sound crazy, but I couldn’t come at you until I knew I had made things right between us."

“That damn snow globe,” she mused, a smile tugging at her lips. Who would’ve thought her favorite childhood trinket would be the thing that brought her favorite person back? She reached out, taking his hands across the table. “I would’ve been glad to see you, no matter what.” He squeezed her hands, remembering the nervous flutter in his chest when he’d placed his bid on that snow globe. He wanted her to have it, and he didn’t hold back. “I know. But you deserve that—and so much more.”

Eve rolled her eyes playfully, though there was a flicker of something else in her gaze. “Cut it out with the compliments,” she teased, leaning back in her seat. “I’m gonna be walking around with a big head at this rate.”

“You already got a big—”

“—Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Terrence.”

They slipped into a comfortable rhythm, their banter flowing like it had never skipped a beat. It felt like no time had passed at all, like he’d never left and she’d never hidden the soft spot she’d always had for him. It was clear he still didn’t realize how deep her feelings for him ran. Still, something told her this Christmas was going to be one she’d never forget.

“We should do this again sometime,” Terry suggested as they walked back to the office, his tone casual but the hint of something more lingering in the air.

“Definitely,” Eve replied, but her thoughts drifted back to the past, to all the things she’d buried. The what-ifs. The could-have-beens. For now, though, she was content. Whatever this was, it was enough—for now.

“How about tonight?” Terry surprised her, his voice bringing her back to the moment. “We could grab some dinner, or I can bring something over. You still love that fried rice from Gogi Grill, right?” He grinned, already knowing the answer. Eve had always been a creature of habit when it came to good food. She stopped in her tracks, a smile spreading across her face. “I can’t believe you remember! Of course I still love their fried rice.” She stressed the word love, making sure he heard it loud and clear. “And the—”

“—vegetable spring rolls. Yeah, I know.”

“That sounds so good.” she grinned, feeling a spark of excitement.

“What time works for you?” he asked, already getting his phone out. “I’ll bring it all.”

“Eight?” she replied, figuring that gave her just enough time to get home, unwind, and freshen up.

“I’ll be there at eight. Let me get your phone so I can save my number, and you can text me your new address.”

They walked back toward her desk, and Terry promised to see her later. The rest of the afternoon dragged, Eve barely getting any work done as her mind wandered, fixated on what was coming next. The second five o'clock hit, she nearly bolted out of the office. At home, she was a whirlwind—tidying, organizing, putting everything in order. By the time the doorbell rang, she had just slipped into a comfy graphic tee and yoga pants. No need to impress him—this was Terry.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” she greeted with a grin, stretching her arms wide as Terry’s gaze swept over her. She almost convinced herself she was imagining it.

“Feel free to bring the food to the living room. I’ve got plates and bean bags set up if that’s cool with you.”

“Works for me,” Terry replied, setting down the bags of food. As he dished out their plates, she grabbed a bottle of wine from the fridge, uncorking it and pouring them each a glass.

“You still watch those cheesy romance flicks?” Terry teased, flipping through the channels with a smirk.

“No,” she replied a little too quickly, though, she definitely did.

He raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You don’t have to front for me. I know you too well.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes. “You’re right. Can’t hide anything from you.” They eventually landed on a BET romance about a doctor secretly in love with his best friend, and Eve couldn’t help but notice the irony of it all. She thought about asking him to change the channel but decided against it, instead letting out a long sigh, a wave of longing she couldn’t quite explain washing over her.

“What’s wrong?” Terry’s voice softened with concern.

“Nothing,” she said quickly, trying to brush it off, but his eyes told her he wasn’t buying it.

“Something’s on your mind,” he pressed gently. “Is it the food? Or something else?”

“Definitely not the food,” Eve answered, “I guess I’m just not feelin’ the movie. It’s... a little too cheesy, even for me.” Normally, these kinds of stories made her feel all warm and fuzzy, but tonight, it just hit differently—like a reminder of the things she might never have, especially with the man she’d always wanted sitting right next to her, still oblivious to her feelings.

“Really? I think it’s kind of sweet,” he said, and Eve froze mid-bite.

“Sweet? What’s gotten into you?” she teased, her eyebrows arched.

He shrugged, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “When you like it, it’s romantic. But when I do, something’s gotta be wrong?”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Man, every time I made you watch one of these back in the day, you complained the whole time,” she teased, her smirk growing.

“That was a long time ago. I was just a kid then. I’m a grown man now,” he shot back, his eyes glinting with a hint of mischief.

She looked him over, feeling the weight of his words in a way she hadn’t expected. “Alright, grown man,” she teased, trying to mask the sudden shift in her chest. “Guess it just threw me off, that’s all.”

“Why’s that?” he asked, his tone a little more challenging now.

“Because you were never the romantic type,” she said, but even as the words left her mouth, her heart couldn’t help but wonder if that had changed.

“How do you know that?” he shot back, his question hanging in the air like it meant something more. Eve felt a small pang in her chest. Maybe it was silly, but Terry always had a way of getting under her skin.

“I guess I don’t know, Terry,” she admitted quietly. “You’re right. I wouldn’t know what kind of romantic you are. You’ve always treated me like family.” The last words came out with a little more weight than she intended, a quiet bitterness lingering at the edges of her voice. She didn’t want to admit it, but it still stung.

Terry leaned in a little closer, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity she wasn’t used to. “Only because I didn’t know how to be romantic back then,” he said, his voice dropping to something more vulnerable. “Didn’t know how to flirt, didn’t know how to say what I felt.”

Her breath caught, a sudden heat creeping up her neck as he continued, his voice lower now, more serious. “I treated you the only way I knew how. Walked you home every day, carried your bag, made sure to save some of my mama’s fried dumplings for you. It might not have been flowers or poems, but I thought I was making it clear.”

Eve blinked, feeling the floor beneath her shift. “Terry, what are you saying?” The question slipped out before she could stop it, but her mind was already racing—was he really saying what she thought he was?

“I always liked you, Evie. Always,” he said, his voice low and steady. “But I thought... I thought you didn’t feel the same.”

Her cheeks flushed deep, a rush of heat flooding her face at his words. The weight of the confession hit her in waves, stirring up feelings she'd buried for so long. "That’s not true. I was into you, too—really into you."

Terry’s eyes widened with surprise, a small smile breaking through as he processed her words. “But you were with Keith. You got engaged.” He’d seen the engagement photos on social media, and it had torn him up inside. Took everything not to call her phone and tell her she was making a mistake. But he’d convinced himself that the right thing to do would be to step back and let her find happiness without him.

She exhaled slowly, her throat tight with emotion. "He asked me to be his girlfriend... and later, to marry him. At the time, I thought it was what I was supposed to do. You were gone, and I didn’t think I’d ever get a chance to tell you how I really felt," she said, her voice quieter now, as if the words were heavy. "I convinced myself that if I just moved on, I could forget you."

“Are you telling me,” Terry’s laugh was low, almost incredulous, but there was a warmth behind it—like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, “that we both felt this way all along, and I just didn’t see it?”

Eve let out a breath, trying to steady herself. “Yeah, Terry. I think we both did.”

“Evie,” he began, his voice soft, almost reverent. His hand reached across the table, his fingers brushing hers—a touch so light it made her heart stutter. “All these years…” Her breath hitched. She didn’t pull back, but she wasn’t sure how to step forward either. 

Memories flooded her mind, sharp and vivid as if they’d happened yesterday—walking home together in the rain, Terry draping his jacket over her head to protect her crown. Splitting a basket of wings at the local chicken spot after school, making do with whatever change they could scrape together. His loud, carefree laugh always chasing away her bad days, like he could make the world feel right again without even trying. Those moments weren’t just the past, they were the foundation of everything they’d ever been. Terry had always been there, steady as sunrise, holding it down in ways she didn’t know how to name back then. 

His thumb brushed the back of her hand, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing the feel of her skin. He leaned in just a little, his gaze searching hers, the air between them thick with longing. “Evie,” he whispered, his voice gentle but heavy with desire. “Can I kiss you?”

Her eyes flickered down to his lips before she gave a subtle nod. 

With a tenderness that made her heart race, Terry cupped her face in his hands and leaned in, pressing his lips to hers. They were softer than he’d imagined, and she let out a breathy sigh that sent a wave of warmth through him. His hands slid down her sides, settling on her hips with a gentle squeeze as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. She tasted sweet, like dark chocolate and candy canes—the kind of holiday goodies she loved, and now he couldn’t help but love them, too. Pulling away slowly, his gaze softened, serious now. “Evie, I’m not looking for something temporary. I want something real. Something lasting. Not just for the holidays or a good time.”He let the words hang in the air, searching her face for any sign of hesitation. “This—us—I don't want it to be just another chapter in my life.”

"Terry," Eve whispered, her hand resting gently on his chest before sliding up to cup his face. "This is a lot… all at once. Before we go any further, I need to know we’re really on the same page." Her voice trembled slightly, her guard creeping back up. It wasn’t easy learning to trust again, to let her heart stay open after everything she’d been through. And with Terry... there was no way her heart wouldn’t get tangled up in this. As much as he hated the idea of stepping back, Terry understood where she was coming from. She wasn’t wrong—they had too much history to rush into something without thinking it through. Their lives were intertwined in so many ways: mutual friends, their parents practically family. He nodded, his voice steady and sincere. “I hear you, Evie. I got you. We’ll take this slow—whatever feels right for you.”

In the days that followed, Terry found any excuse to be around Eve. He’d joke about “checking the perimeter” at work, but really, he just wanted to be near her—catching glimpses of her at her desk, looking effortlessly stunning in those blue-light blocking glasses and preppy business casual outfits. He’d leave her little treats—those chocolate “kisses” she couldn’t resist—and sticky notes filled with jokes or random facts to make her smile. And sometimes, he'd offer to grab office supplies for her, like highlighters or paper clips, even though she could easily pick them up herself. It was his way of staying close, of showing her that he was there.

His presence didn’t go unnoticed. The women in the office—Ms. Ruby especially—seemed to flock to Eve’s desk, trying to catch a glimpse of Terry, pretending they needed something just for the chance to see him up close.

“I’m gonna tell Mr. Charles on you,” Eve teased Ms. Ruby one morning, grinning.

“What he don’t know won’t hurt him, baby,” Ms. Ruby shot back with a wink, fanning herself as she smirked. “I’m just lookin’. Ain’t no harm in that.”

Eve and Terry started syncing their lunches, making sure to carve out time outside of the office to be together. Eve introduced him to her favorite local deli, where he quickly became hooked on the sandwiches and pasta salad. One afternoon, they shared a plate of injera at an Ethiopian restaurant while Terry told stories about an Ethiopian guy he’d served with, their laughter filling the space between them as they reconnected and deepened their bond. Throughout it all, Terry was the perfect gentleman—opening doors, pulling out her chair, and offering her bites of whatever he was eating, especially when they ordered different dishes. It was those little moments, the simple kindness in his gestures, that made her heart swell and open to the possibility of a real future with him.

Even though Terry was crashing at his mom’s place until he found his own, most evenings, he was at hers. They’d curl up on her couch, the TV left forgotten as they lost themselves in each other—kissing, cuddling, fingers tracing over bare skin. No distractions, no rush—just being together. On those nights, Terry shared more stories from his time in the service, each one peeling back another layer of the man she was just beginning to rediscover. In return, she recounted the ups and downs of her college years—laughing over the good times and the challenges. She filled him in on her sisters, Joy and Noelle, and how they had both started families of their own. They laughed about how her brother, Emmanuelle, still couldn’t resist sticking his nose into everyone’s business, despite being engaged to the woman of his dreams.

Terry told her about his mom—how much she’d been enjoying having him back at home. She’d been lonely since his dad passed, and had tried to fill that void with "friends" who never quite measured up to Terry Sr. Eve could hear the love and concern in his voice, the way he cared for his mom’s well-being, even as he juggled his own life. Life hadn’t slowed down while they’d been apart, but now, with Terry back in her life, everything felt like it was falling into place.

Moving forward together felt just right, so Eve invited Terry and his mom, Gloria, to join her family for Christmas. It had been three whirlwind weeks since the Secret Santa exchange, but she couldn’t imagine celebrating her favorite holiday without him. Her mom was overjoyed to hear that Terry was back in town, and her dad—true to his warm, welcoming nature—was all for it, always saying, the more, the merrier. Gloria didn’t hesitate to accept, admitting it had been far too long since she’d seen the Dillards and even longer since she’d enjoyed a big family Christmas.

When Christmas Eve finally arrived, the doorbell rang, and Eve opened it to find Terry standing on the porch, holding a foil-covered pan in one hand and shrink-wrapped sweet potato pies in the other. He looked as handsome as ever, dressed in a cream-colored cashmere sweater and navy blue slacks. Beside him, his mother, Gloria, was glowing—decked out in a vibrant red outfit with jingle bell earrings that softly jingled as she smiled warmly.

The sight of them, so full of the holiday spirit, made Eve’s heart swell with warmth.

“You didn’t have to bring anything, Ms. Gloria!” Eve said, smiling brightly.

“I always bake too many pies, baby, you know that,” Gloria replied with a wink. “At least they won’t go to waste this year.”

Eve chuckled, stepping aside to let them in. The moment the door swung closed, a mouthwatering scent filled the air, rich with the familiar, savory spices that brought her back to her childhood. Her eyes landed on the pan in Terry’s hands. “And what’s that?” she asked, voice filled with eager curiosity.

“What you think?” Terry grinned.

“Fried dumplings?”

“Fried up just the way you like them—crispy and golden,” he confirmed.

Eve couldn’t help herself—she did a little happy dance right there in the doorway, which sent Gloria into a fit of laughter.

“I made them just for you, sweet girl,” Gloria said, grinning. “I remember how much you loved these back in the day.”

“You’re the best, Ms. Gloria,” Eve said, pulling her into a tight hug. “Not a crumb of this is going to waste, I swear.”

Before Gloria could respond, a loud, familiar voice rang out from deeper inside the house. “Richmond!” Eve’s brother, Emmanuelle, appeared in the hallway, grinning wide. He made his way over to Terry, pulling him into a big, tight hug and giving him a friendly slap on the back. Terry adjusted the pan in his hand, leaning into the embrace. “Man, where you been at?”

Terry smirked, taking in the scene. “Right where I’m supposed to be, I guess.”

“Well, good to see you back, bro. Ain’t nobody here that can keep up with me on Uno except you.”

Emmanuelle’s loud greeting drew the rest of the family in like a magnet. Within moments, the entire Dillard crew had swarmed around Terry, wrapping him in hugs, back slaps, and warm greetings from every direction. Eve’s dad pulled him into a big rocking hug, her mom gave his shoulders a quick, affectionate pat, and her sisters squeezed him between chasing their toddlers, who zipped around the living room like little caffeinated elves, clearly hyped up on holiday treats. Terry soaked it all in. The Dillard house had always been full of life, and it was a relief to see that hadn’t changed. Some things were different, sure, but the love and warmth that mattered most were just the same.

“Let me take that off your hands, bruh,” Emmanuelle said, reaching for the pan. “I’ll put it with the rest of the food.”

“Uh-uh!” Eve cut in, snatching the pan before he could touch it. “You’re not slick.”

“Slick?” Emmanuelle raised a brow. “Girl, you that greedy? You can’t even trust me to take a pan to the kitchen?”

“I can’t trust you, period,” Eve shot back. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she leaned in close. “Especially when I know you helped break my snow globe.”

Emmanuelle’s face twisted as he tried to recall what she was talking about.

“I know it was you,” she added, her eyes narrowing.

He smirked and turned to Terry. “You told her, man?”

Terry chuckled, shaking his head. “I didn’t say a word. You just outed yourself.” He hadn’t revealed that he was shoved into the shelf, choosing to shield the younger man from being implicated in the "crime."

Emmanuelle shook his head, laughing. “That’s foul, sis. You really out here holding on to something from ten years ago just to call me out? You oughta be ashamed. All this over some food? You that greedy?”

“I have to be!” Eve shot back. “I’ve been dealing with you my whole life. Ashley, I don’t know how you handle this man. He’s been eating entire meals by himself since he was ten.”

Ashley, Emmanuelle’s fiancé, strolled by, tossing her husband a look. “Girl, I just cook double and call it a day.” The room erupted into laughter as the family buzzed around them, settling into the lively chaos that made Christmas at the Dillard house unforgettable.

An hour later, everyone gathered around the table, plates piled high with Christmas Eve dishes: smothered chicken over rice, cabbage cooked with bacon, buttery rolls, and generous helpings of Ms. Gloria’s Carribbean spiced dumplings. The real feast—the honey-glazed ham, collard greens, mac and cheese, cornbread, smoked turkey, and sautéed okra—was waiting for Christmas Day. But tonight, this was more than enough. They joined hands and bowed their heads as the family prayed, offering blessings for their health, happiness, and the year to come.

“So, Terry, when’d you get back, bruh?” Emmanuelle asked, already halfway through a second helping of chicken and rice.

“Been about seven weeks. Almost two months now,” Terry replied, taking a sip of sweet tea.

“What?” Emmanuelle looked up, fork in midair. “Why ain’t I seen you yet?”

“I’ve been laying low,” Terry said. “Getting used to civilian life again.”

Emmanuelle turned to Eve with a mock-serious expression. “Evie, why didn’t you tell me my boy was back?”

She shrugged, trying to sound casual. "I didn’t even know he was back until a couple of weeks ago."

From the corner of her eye, Eve noticed her sisters straightening up, ears clearly tuned in. She knew that look—they smelled tea brewing. When she didn’t respond right away, Emmanuelle leaned in, fanning the flames.

“How’d y’all reconnect anyway?” he asked, eyes narrowed playfully.

Eve cleared her throat, keeping her tone light but firm. “We work together now.”

That should’ve been the end of it, but she could see her brother’s curiosity growing. The last thing she needed was for her family to get too nosy about her and Terry. It wasn’t that she was hiding anything, but it was still too early for outside opinions to complicate things.

“Oh, okay, so you saw him at the office,” Emmanuelle said, smirking. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why are you grilling me, E-Man?” Eve shot back, raising a brow.

“Grilling? I’m just asking questions!”

“Terry, what are you doing at the company?” her mom, Diane, chimed in, cutting through the sibling banter.

“Security,” Terry replied, pausing to wipe his mouth. “Keeping the building safe and making sure everything runs smooth.”

Joy, one of Eve’s sisters, leaned back with a sly smile. “Didn’t know the corporate world was so dangerous,” she teased, sipping her spiked sweet tea. “Bet all the ladies in the office are feeling extra secure with you around."

Eve shot her a warning look, but Terry didn’t flinch.

“It’s not really about danger,” he explained. “It’s more about protecting sensitive info. Everything’s a target these days.” He paused, letting his words settle as he caught the curious looks around the table. “But it’s a good change of pace from the military. I like it. Plus, I’m saving up to start my own private security firm someday. I want to give other brothers coming out of the service a chance to transition into something solid. Help them find their footing again.”

The table went quiet for a moment, the weight of his words settling over them.

“That’s solid, bro,” Emmanuelle said, giving a nod of approval. “We need more folks doing that. Respect, man.”

Eve caught herself smiling at him, a quiet pride swelling inside her as she watched how effortlessly he commanded respect from everyone at the table. She’d seen it in the weeks since they’d reconnected—the way his presence shifted the energy in any room. People either stepped aside or flocked to him, drawn to his quiet confidence. He set the tone, and it was so damn attractive. Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice how the affection lighting up her face hadn’t gone unnoticed by the rest of the room.

“Well, are you single, Terry?” her father, Ed, asked without missing a beat. He’d always had a feeling there was something between his little Eve and the Richmond boy. He’d sensed it even back when Terry was still too young and unsure to act on it. But the man sitting in front of him now was someone he could respect—someone he could trust with his baby girl.

“Dad!” Eve protested, her face flushing. But before she could say another word, Gloria, Terry’s mom, jumped in with a playful grin.

“He sure is!” Gloria chimed in, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Terry shot his mom a look of surprise.

“Really?” Diane, Eve’s mom, asked, raising an eyebrow. Meanwhile, Eve’s siblings were doing their best to hide their snickering. Eve’s little niece sat on Noelle’s lap, eyes wide, watching the exchange with interest.

“You know, Evie’s single too,” Diane added with a knowing smile, leaning back in her chair, clearly enjoying herself.

“Mommy—”

“I’m just saying, baby,” Diane said, holding her hands up in mock innocence. The room fell into an expectant silence, all eyes locked on them.

Eve shot Terry a look, shaking her head. Their families just couldn’t resist stirring the pot. She thought, Black folks and their matchmaking. Terry grinned and casually draped an arm over the back of her chair, giving her a look that said, Forget it. Might as well lean into it now. Several sets of eyes snapped in their direction, keen to catch every little moment.

Eve and Terry exchanged a quiet glance, a wordless conversation passing between them before she finally decided to rip the Band-Aid off. “Well, since you’re all in my business,” Eve said with a sigh, “Terry and I have been seeing each other. Just a little while, though. We’re taking it slow.”

It was like a buzzer went off at a championship basketball game—everyone erupted with hoots, hollers, and excited chatter.

“I knew it!”

“Talking ‘bout I’m not slick– girl, you not slick!”

“That’s why she been dodging my calls!”

Terry’s mom elbowed him playfully, her face lighting up with a grin. “Why you didn’t tell me, baby?” She’d suspected something was up with all the late hours he had been keeping, but she’d kept quiet, not wanting to push him too fast. Now, though, seeing the joy on his face, she couldn’t help but be happy for them. 

Terry looked at his mom, his expression softening as he took in her beaming face. It had been too long since he’d seen her this genuinely happy. He gently covered her hand with his own. “We’re still getting to know each other again, Mama. Taking it slow, ‘cause we want to do it right. Didn’t want to tell anyone too soon, or get your hopes up, just in case.”

“It’ll work out,” Gloria said with a smile that was both warm and knowing. “You’re just like your daddy—considerate, kind, protective, dependable. You’re a good man. Anybody would be lucky to have you in their life. And Eve, she’s a great girl. The best, if you ask me. She knows you for who you are, flaws and all. She’s solid, knows herself, and she’s the kind of woman you want by your side. Y’all can make it work, if you both want to…”

Terry’s gaze drifted to the back of Eve’s head as she laughed and talked with her family, fully in her element. It was magnetic. He couldn’t help but think, She’s the one.

“…and I suspect you do.”

Eve caught snippets of the conversation between Terry and her mom, her own voice blending with the chatter around her. “Yeah, mama, we’ll make it,” she heard Terry say, his voice steady, confident.

“You calling it a night after this? Heading home?” Eve asked when her family finally gave her a break from answering questions.

“That wasn’t really the plan.” Terry smirked, his gaze steady on hers. 

Bet, she thought, fighting the urge to grab his hand and tell everyone they were out.

After dinner, they exchanged Christmas Eve gifts with the family. Eve had gotten Terry a new tactical backpack for his camping trips. He’d mentioned before how much he loved getting away to the woods, disconnecting from the world, and reconnecting with nature. She also picked out a cute elephant trinket for his mom, a nod to Ms. Gloria’s sorority, representing strength and resilience. In return, Terry had gifted her parents a beautifully wood-burned sign that read Dillard Family Home. Her parents adored it, and her dad wasted no time putting Terry to work, hanging it up above the door.

Her nieces and nephews tore through their gifts from Uncle Emmanuelle, too big for them to manage on their own, immediately enlisting the adults to help set up toys, insert batteries, and get the noise blasting from their new gadgets. Eve played the dutiful auntie, pitching in to help get the kids settled before she attempted to make a quiet exit, a little earlier than usual.

Her sisters weren’t letting her off that easy, though. They cornered her near the foyer while Terry helped his mom put on her shoes. “No you don’t, girl,” Noelle whispered, with a mischievous grin, while she and Joy surrounded Eve like two sharks on the hunt.

Eve tried to play it cool. “We need to get Ms. Gloria home before it gets too late.”

Joy leaned in close, her voice dripping with teasing. “Girl, please. We already know what’s up. After you drop Ms. Gloria off, you’re gonna be right back with Terry. I been sneaking around long before you even started.”

Eve rolled her eyes, trying to keep it moving while they giggled behind her.

Terry quickly helped his mom settle into her house while Eve sat in the car, fidgeting in the seat, trying to calm the flutter in her chest. When he stepped back outside into the crisp evening air, she reminded herself to get it together. It’s just Terry. 

The whole ride felt charged, the air between them thick with unspoken words, teetering on the edge of something both of them were ready to step into. Eve caught herself stealing glances at Terry, her stomach flipping each time his fingers drummed on the steering wheel or his lips twitched into a half-smile. By the time they reached the family home and she slid into her car, she could barely keep her composure. The drive back to her place was a blur of thoughts, her heartbeat drowning out the soft hum of Christmas music on the radio. Enough. Enough holding back.

When Terry knocked on her door a little while later, she didn’t hesitate. She opened it, grabbed his hand, and pulled him inside. Without a word, she led him to her room. The space was warm and inviting–signature seasonal scents wafted through the air, and a small four-foot tree twinkled in the corner. Low, sultry R&B Christmas classics filled the room, the perfect soundtrack for everything she wasn’t saying.

“Sit,” she murmured, her voice soft but sure, gesturing to the bed. She opened her bedside drawer, pulled out a small gold-foiled packet, and placed it on the comforter beside him. “I know what I want. I want you. I want us.”

She stepped between his legs, loving the way his strong hands explored the curve of her back and sides as their lips met.  She’d had a quick sip of wine while waiting for him, just enough to quiet her nerves. The lingering warmth of it heightened every sensation, making her feel energized and bold. She gently cradled Terry’s head against her chest, her breaths coming soft and uneven as she tried to steady herself.

“I’ve been all in, Eve,” he said, his voice low and unshakable. “Always.”

She let her fingers trail along his warm skin, grounding herself in the reality of him—not just the fantasy she’d kept alive in her mind. Terry was the dangerous kind of handsome, the kind that should come with a warning label. He kissed her softly at first, but his touch grew more demanding and insistent as she shed her clothes. Eve straddled his lap, moving closer, spurred on by the way he held her—like she was precious, worth cherishing, and meant to be kept all to himself.

“You’re safe with me,” Terry promised, his lips brushing her ear. “Always.”

And she believed him. She melted into his touch, surrendering to the intoxicating thrill—and the quiet fear—of letting herself fall. Of trusting. Of daring to believe this could be the start of something real, as he effortlessly flipped them so that he was on top. "Thought about you like this," she admitted softly, helping him lift his shirt over his head to reveal the firm contours of his abdomen. "On top of me, just like this."

Terry's gaze locked on hers, dark and intense. 

“Tell me what else you thought about,” he said, his voice low and coaxing. He wanted her to let whatever she was feeling spill out. Eve was usually guarded, always careful with how much she gave, but now, with him, she didn’t hold back.

She reached down, her fingers curling around his dick through his boxers. "I’ve been thinking about this," she whispered, her voice thick with desire. "What you’d feel like... what it would be like to have you inside me. I’ve waited so long... I almost don’t want to ruin the fantasy." She teased, biting her bottom lip, a playful spark in her eyes. She could feel it—the way that set him on fire. Terry felt his control slipping. Every part of him was primed, ready to unleash it all on her. "Pull it out and see for yourself." 

Eve wrapped both hands around him, her touch slow and deliberate, as her fingers explored every inch. She gasped softly at how hot and heavy he felt, even thicker she had realized. "God," she whispered, feeling her body respond to the sensation of him in her hand. Her mind raced with thoughts of him slapping that fat tip against her clit. She imagined how he’d feel inside her—wondering if he’d be slow and methodical, or more rushed and rough. Either way, she knew she wouldn’t mind.

Above her, Terry’s breath caught as he tugged his boxers down, guiding her hand to him more firmly. His chest rose and fell as his mind tried to stay clear. She glanced up at him with a wicked glint in her eyes. Spitting a thick glob into her hand, she spread it over him with slow, deliberate strokes. Her eyes never left his, watching him unravel under her touch. His face was tight, eyes flickering between her movements and the ceiling as he groaned softly. The sound stirred something deep inside her.

"You want me to take you in my mouth?" she whispered, her voice soft and sweet, as if she were asking the simplest question in the world.

Terry couldn’t respond immediately. His mind was lost in the heat of the moment, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to hold on. But when her fingers traced over his balls, kneading them with a slow, firm touch, he couldn’t stop the groan that slipped from his lips. She leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to the head of his dick, her puckered lips gliding sensually over the slick skin. “It’s so beautiful, baby. Thick, too.” She giggled, enjoying the way his hips stuttered when she tongued the leaky tip.

“You’re actin’ up,” Terry groaned, his breath shaky. With one swift movement, he shifted onto his knees, lining himself up with her mouth. “Open up,” he urged, his voice low with desire. He couldn’t wait any longer. Terry fed her his length, hissing loudly when her mouth closed around him, hot and wet. “Mmm... That’s exactly what I want.” 

Eve surprised him by staring into his eyes as she worked her mouth around his length, brown eyes captivating him like a spell. Her hands moved over him, soft yet taunting until he was powerless under touch. 

"You’re gorgeous, you know that?"

"Yes, baby, keep working those hands—just like that."

“You’re perfect, Evie.” 

Terry groaned, his blue-green eyes locked on her. He could hardly believe he had the girl of his dreams under him, ready and willing to please him. "Nobody’s perfect, but I’ll take the compliment." Eve paused, her hands gently running over him as she caught her breath, wetness gathering around the corners of her mouth.

Terry tugged at her bra strap, his voice low with need. “Take this off.” She shifted, unhooking it, and letting it fall to her lap. He stroked himself, remembering the night she let him play with her titties on her couch. He was worked up from all the kissing with no follow through, and she offered to help him release some of that tension. He kissed her breasts while she sighed and worked her hips against him. He tasted her nipples and she arched her back for more. He teased them with his fingers and his mouth, pinching and tugging until she was rocking back and forth in his lap. She panted while he held her in place, thrusting his dick up into her clothed core until they were both coming in their clothes. He almost stayed that night. She clung to him afterward, silently pleading for him to end their self-imposed misery. It took every ounce of restraint for him to leave, but he couldn’t let her body make a choice her mind wasn’t ready to make. Now, he had no more reasons to resist.

“Lay back,” He ordered, shifting to straddle her waist. The new angle had him right where he wanted to be. Close enough to stroke himself against her soft skin and watch the way she responded to him.

"You want to let it all out, don’t you?" She licked her lips, watching his dick twitch in his hand. "I can see it in your eyes. Looks like it's killing you." The tip was an angry red shade. His balls were drawn tight. Her clit pulsed with desire. “You ain’t gotta hold back with me. I want everything.” She promised, her voice soft and alluring, as if she could sense his every need. Terry’s breath hitched, his control slipping. Every part of him was drawn to her. 

“You’re gonna make me lose it, baby.” Terry’s voice was low, a growl in the back of his throat. He couldn’t think straight, especially when she took him into her mouth again, the heat sending him into a frenzy. Her hands slid over her own body, teasing her breasts the way he liked as she felt the fire building in her. The way he reacted, panting and whimpering pushed her even closer to the edge. “Hold up–” He started, but she was insistent, forcing her throat down his length until she was gagging. Terry’s body jerked above her, and he spilled warm cum into her mouth and then onto her plump breasts without warning. “Fuck, Evie,” He groaned as she chased him with her mouth. He’d meant to warn her, but that greedy little mouth of hers was too tempting. He fell into place next to her, catching his breath. She didn’t seem to care about the mess. In fact, she looked pleased with herself, giggling as he apologized lowly. She told him there was no need. 

"You know we don’t have to pretend with each other, right?" She asked, sensually rubbing his seed into her skin. He watched her slow, seductive movements, wondering how he got so lucky. 

“You’re wild.” He felt his dick stirring to life again. “Sit on my face,” he ordered, guiding her to squat above his head. 

"This position is new for me," she confessed, feeling a flutter of excitement in her belly. “You don’t have to do anything but relax,” Terry hooked his arms under her leg and held her in place. “Leave the work to me,” Terry pulled her down, keeping a firm grip on her legs as he licked between them. At first, it was tentative, a slow exploration as he took his time learning her body, what made her sigh and moan. But soon, desire took over, and he became more urgent, more greedy. She ran her hand over his head, experimenting with the sensation of moving her hips. 

“That feels so good,” She whimpered, loving the leverage the position gave her. Terry seemed perfectly attuned to her every reaction, adjusting his moves based on what made her shiver or sigh. She shut her eyes and quickened her rhythm, breathing heavily with pleasure. With a smirk, Terry took a moment to tease her. “You like when I lick your pussy like this?”

“Yes!”

“Keep grindin’ this wet pussy on my face.”

Eve whimpered.

He encouraged her to move her hips faster with soft taps to her ass. She trembled, unable to focus on anything other than the way his tongue felt. Her eyes drifted down to the sight of him between her legs. “Don’t stop–please don’t stop,” She mewled, no longer in control of her own body. It felt like watching a train wreck, knowing something earth-shattering was coming, but being powerless to stop it. “Terry, please!” She gripped the sheets as hard as her fists would allow, crying out as she reached her peak. 

Terry spoke, his voice a low hum as he repositioned her, but she was too dazed to make sense of anything, still floating back down to Earth.

“You good, Princess?”

She blinked, trying to focus as his face came back into view. "Huh?"

Terry chuckled softly, and she buried her face in his neck, letting her body relax against him.

"Evie?"

She felt his hands slide over her back.

"Hmm?"

"You ain’t about to pass out on me, are you?"

"I’m trying not to..." But he kept gently coaxing her, luring her toward sleep with tender kisses and soft whispers. “But you’re tempting me.” She warned, feeling his dick harden against her stomach all over again. 

She sat up on her knees, rubbing her eyes as she looked at him. "How do you want me?" 

"You’re too cute." He said, patting her bottom softly. “Come get in my lap.”

Terry kissed her sweetly, his dick hardening and prodding at her backside. She reached back to touch it, feeling that it was hard as steel and slick, all over again. “Wow,” She laughed softly between their kisses, feeling the intensity of his desire. “You can't get enough of me, huh?”

“You have no idea.” He looked at her with an expression she couldn’t quite read, the playful tension turning into something more serious. “I want you to know I thought about you every day I was gone. Couldn’t get you out of my head. Imagining you like this... all mine.” He gently smoothed his hands along the sides of her hair, trying to tame the wild curls that had grown bigger with all the sweating and rolling around. “I’d lie on my cot, seeing your face in my mind. Every night.”

"Terry… you really shouldn’t say things like that," she said, her voice soft with sudden shyness.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He challenged. Eve swallowed, feeling the weight of his gaze. Terry had a way of making her feel seen, like all her walls had been torn down, yet she was safe. She took a breath, reminding herself that she could let her heart lead with him. 

"Because I'm falling for you and when you say things like that, it makes it so much harder for me to keep it together."

“Why are you acting like you gotta fight this, Eve?” He tilted his head, his eyes never leaving hers. “It’s us.” He took her hands in his, stilling them. 

“What if I told you I feel the same way?” She could hardly believe he was saying the words she had wanted to hear over a decade ago. Even if this was some strangely vivid dream she’d drummed up as a result of her Christmas Blues, she wanted to soak in every word, every moment. “I love you, Eve Dillard. I’ve loved you for a long time. I’m sure of it. More than anything else in this world.”

“Terry Richmond...” She started, almost at a loss for words. Hearing him declare it so openly made her feel like she was floating in the clouds. “I love you too.”

“Yeah? You sure?” He teased. 

“Uh huh,” She hummed, feeling his fingers splay across her thighs.

“I wanna show you how much. Can I?"

She nodded.

“You want me, Evie?” 

She nodded her head. 

His hand landed firmly on her ass, and she let out a startled whimper as she lurched forward in his arms. The sound shot straight to his dick. "You gotta let me know, sweetheart." 

“Yes, I want you, Terry. All of you.” 

Eve didn’t know what was possessing her, making her so open and submissive. She told Terry he was everything she’d ever dreamed of and that she couldn’t imagine a future without him. He told her she didn’t have to. She kissed him deeply, tasting herself as he alternated smacks on both sides of her ass until he was satisfied and lining himself up at her entrance. Her mouth fell open as he pushed his way inside. “Fuck,” Terry cursed as she clutched his arms with that shocked look on her face. He kissed her lips and then her jaw, all tender and sweet. “You’re okay. I got you,” He promised, groaning when she began to open up for him. His large hands slid down her body, settling over her hips as he began lifting her up and down on his dick. Eve buried her face in his neck, biting her lip as Terry slammed into her. He grunted his satisfaction as she dripped down his length and made a mess.

“You feel so good, Evie.”

“Squeezing me so tight.”

“All mine.”

“Give it to me, Princess.”

His words pushed her closer to the edge until she could hardly breathe, gripping his neck and shoulders like he was her lifeline. “You’re drivin’ me crazy!” She moaned into his ear, her walls squeezing around his dick. “Good,” Terry grunted, “That's how I want you. Crazy about me and this dick.” Her eyes rolled back as he pumped his hips harder, the strain in his voice evident. “You were made for this dick, just like I was made for this perfect little pussy.” He poked something inside of her that made her holler. But Terry was shushing her, holding her tight to his chest and cooing in her ear. "Let it happen, baby. I got you. I know what you need. You can take it."

She placed her hands flat against his chest. His grip on her hips were still iron tight. "C’mon now, Evie. Be good to me. You wanna make me feel good, don’t you?" His words worked the way he intended. She surrendered, laying her head across his shoulders and holding on for dear life as he worked her over. "That’s it, baby. I told you you were perfect. How you feel now?"

She dug her nails into his skin and concentrated on keeping her eyes from crossing. You know how it feels, you bastard! She thought, but the only words spilling out of her mouth were sweet and agreeable. She told him how good he felt, how no one else had ever made her feel that way, and that she wanted him to make her feel that way for the rest of their lives. He told her that he loved her and she was the only one for him. She cried, warm teardrops spilling over his skin as she came, yelling his name. Terry held her in place, capturing her lips in another long kiss as he finished, wishing there was nothing in between them.

Eve’s head rested against Terry’s chest, her body limp from exhaustion. Breathless and completely satisfied, they stayed close for several minutes, catching their breath. Slowly, Terry began to stir, pressing a soft kiss to her damp forehead.

"You good, mama?"

“Mhm,” She mumbled, nuzzling into his neck. “I'm just...worn out." She said, her voice heavy with exhaustion.

“Me too,” Terry admitted, his hand caressing her back softly. He never wanted this moment to end. When she opened her eyes again, his gaze was on her, focused and intense. It took her breath away.

“Why you looking at me like that?” 

“Take a guess,” he murmured, his voice low and husky.

She didn’t need to guess. Everything between them—every unspoken desire—was no longer hanging in the balance. It had all become real. Her thoughts wandered to the future—wedding rings, little feet running around. “You want to marry me and have five babies?” she teased, the words slipping out before she could stop herself.

Terry raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “You think that’s funny, huh?” She shrugged, her fingers gently tracing his jawline, “Guess I’m funny and fine.” His smile widened, his gaze filled with something unreadable. “Be careful what you wish for.”

Her fingers gently caressed his mustache, her voice a soft whisper as she murmured, "I love you, Terry. I really do."

"I love you too, Evie.”

2025

Christmas Eve had always been special, but this year, Terry was determined to make it unforgettable.

Eve turned away from the window where she’d been watching the snow fall gently outside. It was a rare sight in the South, a phenomenon that only happened once or twice a decade, and she cherished every second of it. Terry had left her by the window, disappearing into the bedroom, only to return a few moments later, standing by the gas fireplace with a small, neatly wrapped box in his hands.

“What you over there scheming?” she teased with a curious smile.

Terry looked over at her, his voice steady, though his eyes betrayed the nerves he was trying to hide. “Come here, babe.”

Eve took a step closer, her curiosity piqued. “What’s this? You acting all secretive now?”

Terry extended the box to her, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Just open it and see.”

Eve carefully untied the ribbon, peeling back the wrapping paper to reveal a delicate snow globe. She lifted it, tilting it slightly to watch the glittery snow swirl around the two tiny figures inside. At first, she thought it was just a beautiful decoration, but as she took a closer look, the details caught her eye: the woman inside wore a dress that looked remarkably like the one she had worn the year before on Christmas Eve, and the man was down on one knee.

“Hold up... is this us?” Eve gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as tears welled in her eyes. She looked up at Terry, her heart pounding. “Terry! Where did you even find something like this?” She knew it wasn’t something you could just pick up at a store. It was clearly custom-made.

Terry stepped closer, his deep brown eyes searching hers with a quiet intensity. “I wanted you to have something special, something that showed you just how much you mean to me. Every detail, every piece of it... is us.”

Eve’s tears spilled over as she held the snow globe close to her chest. “Terry…” 

He gently took her free hand, sinking down on one knee in front of her, mimicking the figurine in the globe. She stared at him, her breath catching, as he pulled a small black velvet box from his pocket.

“Eve, you’ve been my everything from the moment I met you. It took too long for me to face that, but now, I can’t imagine my life without you in it. Will you marry me?”

She nodded, tears spilling over before she could even speak. Her voice was thick with emotion as she whispered, "Yes, baby, yes."

Terry stood, pulling her into his arms as she laughed and cried at the same time. The snow globe rested safely in her hand, the tiny figures inside capturing the essence of their love—timeless, unwavering, and entirely their own.

A/N: Happy Holidays! Divider by firefly-graphics. The themes included were for storytelling purposes only. The holidays can be enjoyed with family, friends, or even on your own.

Tag List:

@nayaesworld

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes

@sageispunk

@megamindsecretlair

@blowmymbackout

@kindofaintrovert

@avoidthings

@zillasvilla

@insidefeelingofanadult

@theereina

@slutsareteacherstoo

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@rosaaverse

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@blackchickinthedesert

@thevelvetwhispers

@teeresaresa

@cocoagadgetsworld

@daddiespamm

@virgosapphire79

@invisiblegiurl

[anomalyaly]

The Nut Cracked

Summary: Sebastian Sallow doesn't understand muggle holiday traditions. But this one, he could get on top of.

OR, a spoof of 'The Nutcracker', but make it feral.

NSFW. ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+. MINORS DNI.

AO3/Wattpad

3k words. Written for a NSFW discord server event: The Naughty List.

This is NOT canon to the 'Secrets' universe hahaha or is it

Tags: Explicit sexual content, objectophilia if you squint, seventh year, orgasm denial, Sebastian has blue balls and doesn't know how to handle it

Sebastian didn't understand muggle holiday traditions.

The brightly decorated Ravenclaw girl presented him with a small parcel that he had initially been excited to unwrap. But, as much as he loved seeing the look on Elsie's face as she handed it to him, he couldn't understand why, out of all the gifts she could have chosen, she had picked out an odd-looking wooden doll.

"It's a nutcracker!" She beamed. "My parents can never be bothered to figure out what to get me or my siblings, so they usually send us a whole slew of stuff."

"And...you saw an old man doll and it reminded you of me?" Sebastian turned it around in his hands questioningly. He tried his hardest to seem grateful, but truthfully, he was utterly confused.

She scoffed. "It's not an old man doll. It's a traditional gift that originated in Germany to ward off evil spirits and –"

"Evil spirits?" He laughed. "The only evil spirit we have to worry about during this time of year is Peeves."

"Well, if you don't want it –"

He abruptly yanked his arm away from her and held the wooden figure closer to himself. "I never said I didn't want it. I just think it could be more...appealing."

She tilted her head, her brows furrowed in confusion. "How so?"

Sebastian grinned slyly and picked up his wand, waving it in front of the nutcracker and transfiguring it to look like a girl with wavy, dark hair and freckles dusted along her nose and cheeks. He held it up proudly. "There. Much prettier to look at."

He was met with an eye roll as she stood from the couch and stretched. "If you say so."

Sebastian hadn't been particularly secretive about his feelings for Elsie in recent months. In fact, he thought he was being blatantly obvious, doing everything short of outright telling her due to her relationship status being a bit complicated. Even so, he did his best to hide his irritation every time she brushed off another one of his comments as a sarcastic quip.

It certainly hadn't helped that the other day, she had trudged back from another one of her adventures in the Highlands sopping wet from the snow, the already thin material of her blouse nearly transparent as it clung tightly to her form, her nipples peaked from the cold. He had spent half of the night restless, the other half with his hand wrapped around his cock every time the tantalizing image replayed itself in his mind.

The castle was nearly empty as the two of them spent Christmas at Hogwarts together, and all he could focus on was how frustrated he had felt.

"I should turn in for the night," Elsie sighed, glancing at the time. "I promised Lydia that we would still leave milk and cookies out for Father Christmas. She's very adamant about keeping to tradition."

Sebastian bit the inside of his cheek as he forced himself not to beg her to stay with him for the night. It wasn't like the prefects or professors cared to parade the halls during the holiday with so many students gone. But she likely didn't see him that way. His streak of terrible luck would have him falling for someone he couldn't have.

"Alright," he murmured, hiding the disappointment in his tone. He held up the wooden doll. "Thanks for the, uh...gift?"

She grinned. "Have no fear. We'll exchange our actual gifts tomorrow. But," she tapped the nutcracker's brunette head, "I suppose now, you'll have the nutcracker version of me to help keep you safe."

Sebastian's eyes followed the sway of her hips as she headed toward the gate of the Undercroft. He quickly averted them when she turned back to look at him. "Happy Christmas, Sebastian. See you tomorrow?"

He nodded. "Yeah, see you. Happy Christmas."

She gave him one last soft smile, and the gate clanged shut behind her. Sebastian sighed. Guess I ought to head back to my common room for the evening. He grabbed the tiny doll and sauntered back to his dorm, feeling even more tense than he had been hours before.

It was going to be a long two weeks.

~

Sebastian awoke the next morning, exhaustion creeping in. He needed to get control of his thoughts before he –

"Good morning!"

A light, feminine voice chirped at him from his bedside. The rest of the dorm room was noticeably empty — Sebastian assumed Ominis had left for breakfast early, not wanting to wait while he slept in.

It still didn't explain why Elsie was standing by his bed on Christmas morning. She would never sneak into the Slytherin common room without good reason, let alone his bedroom, even with how often he had teased and prodded her to spend time with him there.

He rubbed his face, his eyes still bleary. "Elsie? What are you –"

The words died in his throat once he finally took a proper look at her. She was smiling coyly at him, her raven hair free and cascading down her back. But what surprised him the most wasn't the expression on her face or the loose, dark strands that curled along her freckled, pink cheeks. It was what she was wearing.

Instead of a Christmas jumper, like she had promised she would have on, Elsie donned the bright red uniform reminiscent of the nutcracker she had gifted him the night prior. It was loose on her small form, barely hanging on to her shoulders, and short enough that it hardly covered the creamy skin of her thighs. He knew he should look away, or at least tell her that she was far too exposed for her liking.

"You're uh..." He cleared his throat. "What...what are you wearing?"

"Oh, this?" She playfully slid the top further down her shoulders. His hungry gaze followed the line down her collarbone and towards the curve of her breasts.

This wasn't like Elsie at all. The girl he knew wouldn't have been dressed like this in his presence, especially because they hadn't so much as kissed yet. She would be flustered, finding anything she could to cover herself up, and likely avoiding him afterward for days out of sheer humiliation.

"Why so shy?" She asked. It was definitely her voice but with a sultry tone. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

Sebastian swallowed. How could she have known that? "W-what do you mean?"

Elsie shrugged. "You made me. I heard your wish, and I'm here to grant it."

He blinked. Made?! "If this is some sort of muggle holiday prank, Elsie, it's really not funny."

She chuckled and sat next to him on the bed, draping an arm over his bare chest, and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "It's not. I'm your nutcracker, silly."

Oh. Oh.

The nutcracker he had mindlessly transfigured last night to look like Elsie had somehow become sentient. And now, Elsie, or at least a perfect copy of her, was practically on top of him, half-naked and promiscuously alluring. It was something he had only dreamed about in the darkest hours of the night, alone in his bed with a silencing charm cast over him.

His thoughts were racing wildly as he drank in the sight of her. She was close enough now and leaning in at just the right angle that he could see entirely down her top, and his breath caught in his throat as he realized that, underneath, she was completely bare. He shifted on the bed as he felt his erection press tightly against his pajama bottoms, quickly losing any scrap of restraint he had left, which hadn't been much to begin with. This was wrong, wasn't it? He couldn't deny how badly he had wanted this – wanted it for months now.

Moments later, her lips and tongue were tracing a hot trail of kisses along his neck, and as she lightly grazed his pulse point with her teeth, the last thread of his control snapped.

In one swift move, he took her face in his hands and fiercely captured her lips with his own, the sensation nearly enough to send him over the edge. Months of pining - of gentle, innocent touches and cuddles that the real Elsie had naively passed off as what two good friends would share - had made him ache with need.

For an imitation, the nutcracker-Elsie felt wonderfully authentic.

His fingers snaked in her hair and tugged lightly, eliciting a soft moan from her that had him shivering. Realistically, had it been their true first experience together, he would have wanted to savor every moment, taking his time as he mapped out every sensitive plane and curve of her body that would make her writhe with pleasure underneath his touch.

But, since this was his Christmas wish, he was going to be self-indulgent and take exactly what he wanted, just as he had imagined doing for so long.

A soft brush of her hand against his very hard and throbbing erection nearly sent him into a frenzy, and he let out a mewl so pathetic he would have been embarrassed had he not felt so ridiculously desperate. His hands scrambled to tear the baggy nutcracker uniform off of her, and as he ran his hand along her inner thigh and traced his fingers along her core, he realized without a doubt that she was soaking. For him.

Happy fucking Christmas to me.

Sebastian groaned as he practically dragged her into his bed and flipped her onto her back. His body vibrated with anticipation when her fingers tugged at his pajama bottoms and yanked them down abruptly. His cock sprang free, already aching with desire, and he melted into a moaning mess when she wrapped her silken hand around him and stroked.

"F-fuck...so good, Elsie —" The way she held him, so expertly gentle and firm at the same time, was better than even his wildest imaginations could conjure. His hips bucked into her touch while he stared down at her through hooded lids, understanding that he needed to take every second to memorize her body in case he never had an opportunity like this again.

Her face was flushed, the smattering of freckles along her nose and cheeks standing out, just the way he liked to see them — one of the reasons he would purposely try to make her blush. His hands followed his gaze as it traveled further down, past her parted pink lips and onto her voluptuous breasts, and he couldn't help but lean forward and take one of her pert nipples into his mouth.

Elsie's sighs and moans as he swirled his tongue around it were music to his ears. He reached out with one hand to cup her other breast while his other slid between her legs once more and lightly circled her clit with his thumb while he pumped two fingers inside of her. The sounds she emitted were delightfully sinful, and he decided that he didn't want to wait any longer. He had waited long enough, trying his damndest to be a gentleman all this time and letting the real Elsie take whatever their relationship was at her own pace.

He had earned this. It was bloody Christmas, and she was his present, and he fucking deserved it.

Sebastian slotted himself between her thighs and pulled back to look at her again. The unbridled need on her face mirrored his own, and he momentarily wondered if he should have spent more time making sure she was ready for him before taking her. After all, if it were the real Elsie, he would have made sure she felt good and reached her release many, many times before he had even attempted to fuck her.

All reason and logic flew out of his brain as he fitted the sensitive head of his cock at her entrance, her slick coating him completely. The needy cry that she let out at the feel of him was all the encouragement he needed to know that she was as desperate for him as he was for her.

"S-Sebastian," she moaned, the sound so erotic he hadn't thought it possible for it to have come from her. "Please — please fuck me. I — need...inside me — please."

Elsie begging. As if he couldn't come undone anymore.

"Anything for you, Princess."

With one abrupt motion, he pushed his hips flush against hers, sliding inside her easily and simultaneously letting out a disgustingly pitiful whimper. He was internally grateful that Ominis had decided to go to breakfast early — he would never have let him live down the sheer humiliation of the chorus of wanting coming from his lips.

Though the doll had been made of wood only moments before, the tight heat of her cunt felt very, very real. It was her body, her silken skin under his fingers, her normally elegant hair mussed and tangled against his bedsheets, and, best of all, her voice crying out his name as he fucked her relentlessly.

"S-Sebastian! Don't — don't stop!"

The high-pitched squeals she refused to hold back egged him on further as he roughly snapped his hips against hers, releasing a low growl as her legs wrapped tightly around him and pulled him deeper into her. The heady scent of her filled his nostrils — the distinct smell of vanilla and jasmine that had so often intoxicated him now enveloped him, and he tucked his head into the crook of her neck to allow himself to be consumed by it.

"Fuck, Elsie. I'm so fucking close."

It was happening too quickly, his release approaching dangerously faster than he would have preferred had this been the real Elsie. He teetered on the precipice of wanting to slow down and make it last longer, to enjoy every sound and feel of her as much as possible, or rewarding himself with what he had been dying to have for so long.

Fuck it — it was Christmas.

She dug her fingernails into his back and muttered a terrifyingly incoherent string of expletives in his ear, but somewhere within them, she was encouraging him to let go.

He was right there, so bloody close now — only a few more thrusts as he selfishly chased down the reality that she was finally, finally his.

"Sebastian!" Yes. Say my name again.

"Sebastian, please!" Just like that, almost there —

"Sebastian, wake up!"

Sebastian's eyes flew open as he sat up abruptly, blinking furiously in an attempt to gather where exactly he was.

Elsie, fully clothed in a Christmas jumper and trousers, her hair in its normal, elegant plait, stared at him from the side of the Undercroft couch, her brows furrowed in concern.

"Are you alright?" She asked worriedly, and her hand softly stroking his arm was almost enough to drag another pathetic groan from his throat. "You were making all these noises in your sleep. It sounded like you were having a nightmare."

Sebastian rubbed his face as reality came crashing down on him like a bucket of ice water. He had been too tired to head back to his common room last night and had fallen asleep in the Undercroft after Elsie had left.

As if to confirm his misfortune, the nutcracker she had gifted him was gingerly tucked under the crook of his arm, still transfigured to look like the girl who currently stood in front of him eyeing him curiously.

He would have laughed at the idea that she referred to his wet dream as a goddamn nightmare had he not still been so fucking hard, left to wrestle with the infuriating ache of incompletion.

Sebastian cleared his throat and muttered a thank Merlin to his last night's self that he had thought to cover himself with a blanket, lest she be subjected to his current state when she had only been trying to check on him and make sure he was okay.

"Uh, yeah. A nightmare," he grumbled, lowering his gaze to hide the heat that was beginning to creep up his neck and along his cheeks. "That's all. M'fine now."

She raised an eyebrow skeptically, and he knew she had good reasons to wonder if he was telling the truth — especially considering he could barely look at her. Not without imagining all of the unholy acts that his dream self had been moments away from —

"I guess the nutcracker didn't help ward off the evil spirits after all," she teased.

The nutcracker. His face reddened further at the memory of Elsie's desperate cries that would forever be branded into his memory.

"Are you sure you're okay?" She reached out to brush her hand along his forehead. "You're looking a bit flushed –"

He smacked her hand away, one touch further from losing himself right in front of her. "I-I'm fine! Just...got a bit warm down here, is all."

It was a blatantly obvious lie, considering he had slept in the Undercroft, which was always perpetually cold. Thankfully, she didn't question him further.

"Well, if you're alright, then get up soon," Elsie said, interrupting his immensely impure thoughts as she turned on her heel to leave. "Ominis is meeting with us outside the Great Hall to exchange gifts." She wagged a finger at him in mock warning, the sly smile on her face reminding him all too much of his dream, and he suppressed another shudder. "And don't be late. A bad back from sleeping on the couch is not a good enough excuse to miss Christmas."

He only offered a curt nod in response.

When the sounds of her footsteps receded, Sebastian flopped back on the couch, once again left alone with his miserable frustrations. The 'Elsie' nutcracker still lay on the couch next to him as if to taunt him, reminding him of what he had been so close to enjoying and what he could never have. He angrily batted it to the floor before grabbing one of the cushions, bringing it to his face, and smothering a mortified, unending scream.

Happy fucking Christmas to me.

[fernsensei]

i now whole heartedly believe that gabriel doesn't wear anything but skirts

kinda suggestive under the cut

ᵐʸ ʰᵃⁿᵈ ˢˡᶦᵖᵖᵉᵈ

[phagodyke]

damn I rly have another 4 weeks of holiday this year huh. I should start making some plans

[goldensunset]

the brain demons are telling me to play final fantasy 7 as if that’s a good idea for me

[going-ferals-art]

Happy December Everyone! NOW I can indulge in the Christmas spirt! Thank god😮‍💨

[snowflop]

[lissdiary]

during the holidays, it was tradition to participate in secret santa with the class. you reached into the basket, picking a folded piece of paper with one of your classmate’s name on it. you hoped it was katsuki’s name, but unfortunately it wasn’t. it was mina’s name on the paper, and while you absolutely adore her you had hope it would’ve been him.

you noticed denki handing the basket to katsuki to grab a paper. he unfolded it and hid in his pocket, you couldn’t help but wonder who’s name was on his paper. you had a crush on katsuki for a few months now and when your friends began teasing the both of you, it lead to you slowly getting to know another. you both grew a close bond, causing your crush on him to grow more and more. that same night, you were walking to your dorm when you noticed katsuki opening his door, leaving it slightly open. it was a sign for you to come in, a common thing the two of you do when you wanna talk to each other.

you knock twice before you opened the door, spotting the blonde cleaning his desk. “hey kats, whatcha doing?” you walked up behind him, catching him off guard. he jumped to the sudden question, putting whatever was on his desk away. “nothin, nun of yer’ business.” he closed his drawer, turning around to look at you. “didn’t look like nothing to me, was that for your secret santa?” you teased him, causing him to roll his eyes and sit on his bed. you followed, sitting beside him. “tch, no. i’m not doin’ that.” he spat out. you knew katsuki wasn’t the brightest or most spirited person, but you had hope he would’ve participated if your name was on his paper. guess not.

the next day, you asked katsuki to accompany you to go shopping. you wanted to grab a few things for yourself, but also for mina. you instantly knew what to get her, a gift she’d happily accept. katsuki followed you around like a pup, putting on an act as if he didn’t enjoy it.

you stumbled upon a store that had cute fashionable clothes that appeared to look like mina’s style. you grabbed a couple shirts and skirts and went upfront to pay. at the counter, there was a display of phone charms. you already had one but the color was wearing off and it was hanging on by a thread. you grabbed one of the phone charms to look at it closer, but ended up putting it back since you already have one. katsuki took a mental note of this, looking at your phone charm then looking at the new more detailed one. he knew you liked stuff like that, plus it was time for a new one. after a while, you both decided to head back to the dorms in order to prepare mina’s gift.

katsuki notices everything about you, your favorite coffee order, the way your perfume smells, whether you prefer gold or silver, your favorite flower, and your favorite season.

as christmas came by, your gift was nicely wrapped topped with nice lacy ribbon. you sat on the couch, waiting for secret santa to commence. you noticed katsuki was sitting across from you with his hands in his pockets, a slight angry pout on his face. when it was your turn, you grabbed your gift and walked over to mina. “merry christmas!” she took the gift in her hands, opening it excitedly. she squealed, “aw thank you soo much, yn! i love it!” she stood up from her seat to give you hug. you sat back down and waited for your gift.

after it was over, you realized you didn’t receive a gift this year. “oh, yn doesn’t have a gift? did someone forget?..” you thought to yourself, maybe someone had forgotten to get a gift, or forgotten to put your name in the basket. you went upstairs to your dorm, teary eyed at the fact that someone forgot about you.

you noticed katsuki’s door was slightly open again, you knocked twice before entering. katsuki was sitting on his bed, a gift basket beside him. he still had his typical angry pout on his face, but this time he looked nervous. “merry christmas”, he mumbled looking away from you. “kats? what is this?” you walked up to the basket, quickly noticing how it was filled with everything you love or recently mentioned to him. “ts for you, idiot. i was your secret santa.” you looked at him with tears in your eyes, giving him the biggest hug.

you felt so relieved to know that someone got you a gift, that katsuki had gotten you a gift. “thank you, kats.” you got off of him to look at the basket, you immediately noticed the phone charm. “did you seriously go back just to get this for me?” you picked it up, removing the old one to replace it. “tch, noticed yer old one was all worn out, thought it was time for a new one. yer welcome.” your heart jumped, you never realized how much he truly payed attention to you. katsuki had went out of his way to get everything for you, on top of that decorating it to your liking. “thank you kats.”

“yea whatever.” he mumbled.

christmas couldn’t have gotten any better.

sweet request from @teddi1423 ♡!

— sorry if i’m lagging on reqs, i’ve been so busy this whole week & will continue to be until next week ! i promise to publish soon !

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt: Valentine's day spirit. Superbat edition.

When Phantom sets foot on the Justice League base many years later, he expects anything but not Flash pointing finger at him and screaming about "legendary child who made Superbat canon".

~~~~

Being in Metropolis because of a ghost hunt right in the middle of a battle between Lex Luthor and Superman was not the best outcome, especially considering that Jack had his three-year-old son with him. But without such a combination of circumstances, they would never have found out that "Ghost!" "Daddy, no!" Ectoblast that Jack shot at the target of their hunt touches Superman and..really hurts him.

There were two sides to Danny-the ghostbuster's son and the astronerd. It is clear which half of him did not have a chance to win.

Danny threw his space rocket toy aside and grabbed father's arm. In the next second, boy had already sunk his teeth into Jack's fingers, forcing him to drop weapon. Youngling quickly jumped off and picked up ectoblast and then ran towards Superman. "Fly away! I'll hold him!" Danny stood up to try to cover up ghost (or alien?) in case Dad took not one but a whole bunch of shooting things with him again.

Jack: Get away from my son, ghost. Superman: Sir, I'm sure this is some kind of misunderstanding, I'm not a ghost. Jack: Danny, come to me, he's trying to hide his identity and manipulate us. Danny: No. If the heroes are being attacked, then someone must protect them too. Jack: But he's a ghost.. Danny: Alien or ghost is not so important, Daddy. He's in pain, and he's protecting this city, not haunting it. It's wrong to try to catch him for experiments. I forbid you to do that. Jack: Danny, champ, you're wrong.

Lex: Hah, what an interesting substance. Despite the other aggregate state, or rather its absence, it is so similar to kryptonite. Superman: Lex, is this a portable lab? Now is not the time, in case you haven't noticed. Lex: There is always time for science. I think my colleague will agree, right? "Similar to kryptonite?" Jack muttered to himself.

Jack: So Superman wasn't my target. And we are not colleagues. There is only one insanely rich man with questionable moral values with whom I am ready to do work, and your surname is clearly not Masters. Lex: It's a pity, but still, if you want to carry out the delivery of your wonderful weapons or exchange experiences, then call this number. Luther quickly shoves a business card into Fenton's hand. Jack*throws it away*: Come on, son, let's go back to the hotel, you've skinned your knees.

~~~The Evening. The Roof of the mentioned hotel~~~

"My friend Sam is also very frightening. And she also likes dark.“ The boy paused for a minute of thinking. “You want to kiss your goth friend?" "W-What makes you think that, kid. We’re colleagues, I respect him very much and.." "So you want to. It’s okay, I’d like to kiss Sam too but I’m afraid she’s gonna hit me. You have the same problem?" "It’s a little more complicated for adults." Kal begins to explain but stumbles upon Danny’s completely unimpressed look. Yeah, this boy apparently has heard 'kids would understand when they grow up' lectures at least thousand times. "But you’re basically right."

~~~~

When Batman himself comes to their hotel the next day as a representative of the Justice League to make sure that Mr. Fenton has no desire to harm Superman in the future and to tell that Superman is not going to press charges because of the ectoblast that injured him, Danny refuses to leave the room.

Jack: Oh, Danny, I thought you dropped your space rocket yesterday, it's a good that Alicia's Christmas present isn't lost. Danny: Well, dad, I left it on the roof of a bad bad man, yeah, but Uncle Kal returned it last night and we talked for a while. Jack: About what? Space, my little star? *Father immediately assumes that Danny would like to ask about everything real alien*. Boy*blushes and shakes his head negatively*: No, not about it.

Jack: Then what it was about? Danny: Secret superhero things. I can't tell you. I agreed to withhold that information as part of a pinky swear. Batman: And what about me, young man? You can tell me, right? Batman couldn't resist talking with such a cute kid. The boy thinks only for a second before hurriedly trying to push his father out of the room. Danny: Dad, come out for a minute and don't eavesdrop. I'll tell you when you can come in. The big man laughingly obeys. Lil child checks the reliability of the closed door and runs up to Batman. Danny: And so, Mr. Batman, first promise not to laugh or hit Uncle Kal. Batman: I promise? Danny: Good. This is very important information. Batman: I'm listening.

Danny: He thinks you're terrifying and wants to kiss you. And since he is afraid that you will hit him for this, I recommended him to appease you with a pie cooked according to his mother's recipe. Well, you know, since you love sweets and his parents' farm has the most wonderful apples in all states. He rarely cooks himself, but he will try for you, so even if he doesn't succeed, pretend that you liked it, please. Batman:...

Batman: Would you like to work in intelligence for the Justice League when you grow up? Danny: Actually, I want to be an astronaut. Batman: Our base is located in space. Danny:

Danny: Hmm, then I'll think about your offer.

Batman: Great. It's a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Fenton. You can count on a job recommendation from me. Do you want anything as compensation for your consultation? Danny: Actually, yes. Mr. Batman, tell me honestly, are you a bat on a frugivorous diet like Giant golden-crowned flying fox or you are a Vampire Bat? Sam says that such a big bat can only be a vegetarian and uncle Kal said your son was more than happy to steal strawberries from his garden with Superboy but..

~~~

Batman tries to behave naturally for a week. However, the sweet tooth inside him still makes him clamp Superman in the corner and question him. "Where the hell are the pies you promised to cook for me, Clark?"

[textmel8r]

[ DRABBLE ] 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 ! ( fourth installment ) in which you are forced to plan a corporate event with your office enemy .

୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven.

୨୧˚ incl; kento nanami

୨୧˚ cw; smut (?) , dub-con , alcohol consumption , profanity

( flashback; ) Wreaths and holly plants decked the usually barren, white walls of the seventh floor office level, and soft Christmas music looped on the overhead speaker in attempts to induce a jolly spirit. Colleagues conversed, discussing plans for December break over plastic cups of spiked cider. Everyone seemed in high morale; even Gakuganji, who donned a cheaply made Santa suit, still wrinkled from its time being folded in a package. Your first ever office party was about as much as you expected–not the worst time, but certainly not the best time, either. It didn’t help that you were still technically the “newbie” despite having been a member of the company for a few months at that point. Man, it was hard to make friends in an office full of stoic suits.

You remain near a far wall, slumped against the oversized copy machine with a drink in hand. Nobody had even appreciated your dress; a modest crimson thing with white, cottony trims to mimic Old Saint Nick. Figures. You pout into your cup, knocking back a heavy swig.

“Woah-ho, you sure went all out.”

The dialogue was unexpected and you sputter on a swallow of liquor, startled. A preemptive hand pats your back, something like a mother trying to burp a newborn. You swallow your spit at last, recollect yourself, and whip your head up to follow the source of the voice that nearly killed you. There stood a man tall and spindly in his stature with the most beautifully long, goldish hair drawn back into a ponytail. He is dressed down, wearing a simple pair of dark jeans and a sweater in favor of the suits nearly everyone else sported. 

“You shouldn’t sneak up on ladies,” comes your meager reply. Your free hand smooths down the skirt of your dress, and you clear your throat. “You scared the shit out of me.”

The man smiles apologetically. “Ah, I noticed. My bad.”

“It’s okay. Just… just don’t do it again.”

“Roger that.” He has his own drink, and you manage to catch a glimpse of it over the rim of the solo cup. It’s a dark, murky color, much more amberish than the cider that was being served. “I haven’t seen your face around before, it made me curious.”

“I secured a position here during spring.” Now that you think about it, he was unfamiliar to you as well. You would have definitely remembered that ponytail. “Are you–I mean, do you work in this building?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, they got me holed up in the Shibuya location,” he winks, leaning in. “I make it a habit to come to all the office parties, though. I can’t resist a little holiday cheer.” Two bony knuckles move to brush delicately against the trim of your dress. “I’m Haruta Shigemo, and you’re…?”

“Not interested.” 

Shigemo juts his bottom lip out. “C’mon, don’t be like that. I can’t know your name?”

Holding an index finger to your chin, you pretend to think about it. “What will you give me in return?”

A smirk worms its way onto Shigemo’s thin lips. He angles his hip toward you and pulls up the hem of his knitted sweater, gesturing to the uncanny flask half sticking out of his jeans’ pocket. “I brought good stuff,” he sings quietly, away from prying ears, and suddenly you understand the reason for his drink being a couple shades too dark. “And I’m good at sharing.”

Yeah, maybe it wasn’t the wisest decision to accept unknown liquor from a virtual stranger, you should’ve really considered all of the possible outcomes to this situation. You’d already had a little over two cups of warmed cider, rotating on the axis between tipsy and full on drunkenness. Your foggy brain didn’t care much to think about how some of this so-called “good stuff” would only lead to an inevitable, total inebriation. Or, a less likely but just as concerning scenario, Shigemo’s flask could be chock full of poison. Either way, you were itching to turn a less-than-okay party experience into a fun one.

“Y/n L/n,” you said finally, and Shigemo looks pleased. Strategically as to not give away the secret, he stood before you and widened his shoulders to create a makeshift cover while he poured a solid few glugs from flask to your cup. Immediately, the booze reeks of something strong like industrial glass cleaner. Your nose wrinkles as the stench singes the hair from your nostrils. “Smells fucking rancid.”

“Maybe you’re just not used to top shelf liquor?” Was that a dig? You’ll show him that you’re plenty accustomed with expensive booze (you’re not. not at all).

So you drank it. The taste of piss mixed with vinegar nearly made you retch, but after your second glass and an assload of determination, it started to taste… good? Maybe this Shigemo guy wasn’t too bad. The rest of the night was a blur of silly dancing to dumb Christmas songs, ugly laughing at the horse calendars pinned to the wall, and… well, the bathroom.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” Your tone was breathy, a cross between giggly and pure apprehension. There in the men’s restrooms, you were perched up on the sink counter. That festive dress was slipped up around your hips by two slender, greedy hands, and a tiny waist worked between your thighs. Shigemo kissed you into silence.

“Why not?” He kisses you again, fumbling with his belt buckle. He’s nipping down your neck, whispering, “The risk is so fucking hot.”

And oh goodness, was he a man on a mission. Tearing the collar of your dress down beneath your breasts, fingering holes into your sheer stockings, stuffing a fist inside your panties… You were in no state of coherence to stop him.

Had it not been a professional obligation on his part to attend this year’s Christmas party, Nanami finds himself fantasizing about all the ways he’d much rather be spending this brisk winter evening. Probably soaking in his tub, nursing a glass of red wine and working on that book he’d been putting off thanks to the ungodly amount of work on his plate as of late. Then, he’d exercise those cooking skills he seldom had time to use and prepare a meal that had much more to offer than these feeble, sugary snacks at this party. Seriously? Cookies and cake? They were adults for goodness sake.

The floor was stuffy and claustrophobia-inducing. Everywhere he turned, Nanami was accidentally bumping somebody with his shoulder or his elbow or some other limb he lost track of. And the conversations were abysmal. Nanami has always been good with his words—he had to be in a profession like this—but Christ, talking to his zombies-for-coworkers was a worse fate than death itself. They drone on about office assignments, about deadlines and paperwork with no hint of light behind their eyes. Is that what he looks like to others? A worrisome thought, that Nanami was just as much of a slave to the corporate world as they were.

The deep train of thought is cut off before it spirals when red catches his eye. A dress red as rubies sticks out like a sore thumb among the sea of blacks and blues and grays of suits. You’re dressed in a silly get up, like those Mrs. Claus actresses in the malls that take pictures with children. Y/n L/n, Nanami recalls your name. He knows you, the newest employee in the office. He’s had very few chances to speak with you, and when he did it mostly consisted of him relaying orders from Mr. Gakuganji. But even in those brief instances, Nanami saw it plain as day: you were different. The first lively fool he’d seen in a while, eyes still glinting with the prospects of optimism and naive hope for the future. Foolish indeed, but he couldn’t bring himself to hate it. You were a breath of fresh air, but Nanami knew that it was only a matter of time before you were beaten and battered into another mindless cog in the corporation's machine.

A strange urge bloomed within the hollows of the man's chest; an urge that told him to initiate communication with you. Perhaps just a "hello" at the very least, seeing as you were his direct subordinate. It was the polite thing to do, right? Or maybe that was just a weak excuse he convinced himself of because Nanami didn't want to admit that you intrigued him in every sense of the word. You would provide an interesting back and forth, something Nanami desperately craved in the throes of this tedious party.

Golden eyes scanned the room. But no matter how long and meticulous he stared into the mass of bodies, Nanami could not locate the shade of red that had incited this search to begin with. There was a muted pit of disappointment the settled heavy in his stomach when he came to the realization that you simply were gone. He didn't doubt the probability that you ditched, no, he'd commend you for doing something he could not. Nanami sighs under his breath, lets his shoulders droop, and takes the last swig of his drink (water of course, the spiked cider was much too sweet for his tastes) before maneuvering through the crowd towards the bathroom. A five minute breather alone in a stall sounded like Heaven on Earth.

He shouldered through the metallic door, eyes closed, fingers tugging the knot of his too-tight tie as he stepped inside the restrooms. Only the sound of a feminine gasp was what pried his heavy eyelids open.

All three bodies froze: Nanami by the entrance with a slack jaw and wide eyes, a man he vaguely recalls from the Shibuya district stood between a pair of opened legs with his jeans tugged down to mid-thigh, and you. You, with your stupidly red dress in disarray, the neckline dipped below your bare breasts and the lower hem bunched up around the curve of your waistline. There you were, sitting up on the sink completely exposed... God, that bastard's hand was still buried down the front of your panties.

As if time suddenly unfroze, said bastard rips his hands away from your most delicate parts in favor of pulling his jeans back up. Nanami blinks once before cocking his head to the side at the unnatural speed of light, focusing on the faux plant in the corner, the uneven tiles beneath his dress shoes, the cracks in the eggshell paint on the wall... anything besides your indecent self.

"Whoops, would ya' look at that?" Shibuya fucker laughs halfheartedly as he fumbles with the button on his jeans, flustered and giggly. "Guess we got a little carried away there, my bad man!" He slinks towards the door, towards Nanami, but pauses. "Hey, you're Nanami Kento, right?"

"Yes." It's a cold response. Nanami doesn't look to the other man, instead he keeps his eyes trained down as to not get another eyeful of you.

"Aha right! Well," Shibuya fucker sweatdrops, clasping a hand over Nanami's shoulder. "Let's keep this a secret from the higher ups?"

The elder grimaces. "Please don't touch me."

The hand is ripped away. Shibuya fucker shows his palms in sort of a defensive stance as more anxious chuckles erupt from his throat. "Good seeing you, then!" And with that, he slips out of the bathroom leaving you high and dry. The prick didn't even bother to stay and help you get recollected.

"I'm decent." You sound meek, a tone Nanami has yet to hear from you thus far. It sounds small. Humiliated. "You... you can look now."

So he does, only to regret it. There you are, hopped off the sink and standing before him in a pitiful display. Your slender neck was tainted with love marks, darkened bruises bit into flesh with little artistry. Your stockings were shredded carelessly, bits of plumpness squishing through the holes. Your hair was mussed, forehead sweaty, lipstick smeared and... why was Nanami so irritated by the sight?

"What..." He starts, trying to find the words. "What is the matter with you?"

You gawk. "Nothing."

"Nothing." Nanami scoffs, hands pressed to his hips. "How careless could you possibly be? Fucking at a work event? I mean, for fuck's sake Y/n."

"I'm sorry, okay?" Your words are clipped. As if you have any right to catch an attitude with him right now.

"Sorry doesn't change the fact that you..." His sentence trails off into a tiny, frustrated growl scratching from the back of his tongue. The man takes his nose bridge between his thumb and forefinger. "The door was unlocked. Anyone could've walked in and saw you like that!" Exposed. Bare. Vulnerable.

"I don't know what else you want to hear other than sorry." Nanami doesn't miss the microscopic vocal crack in the word sorry. You hug yourself tight, forearms crossed over your chest. Your shoulders stutter, and your lips are sucked between your teeth to hide the wobble in them. "I'm... sorry."

You dress strap hangs off your shoulder. Nanami can't peel his gaze away from the strip of fabric. He takes a slow step in, gauging your reaction to it. You don't show any signs of discomfort, so he advances closer. The red strap is dainty against his rough fingers, so he cautions himself to be extra gentle when slipping it back up into place.

"Thanks," you sniffle.

He shushes you. Nanami isn't done yet, far from it. You still look disheveled and sad and weepy and he can't fucking stomach it for some ungodly reason. So he gets to work, first wetting a paper towel in the bathroom sink—the same one you'd been getting groped on a mere few minutes prior—and gingerly swipes away the smeared makeup from your kiss-swollen lips. Then, he's taking it upon himself to straighten out your hair. You let him stroke down your baby hairs without pushback, limply letting him rearrange your appearance as if you were some sort of life sized doll.

Nanami steps back to admire his work. The evidence of foreplay was nearly gone, save for the dreadful state of your stockings and those ugly teeth-shaped indents down the side of your neck. “Take those stockings off before you leave the bathroom,” he utters. “They look…” Slutty is the word that comes to mind first, but he’d never say it aloud. So he leaves it at that.

You’re looking at him with an unreadable expression. If anything, Nanami discerns a little concern in the way your brows turn upwards. “Are you going to tell anyone about this?”

He wants to oh so bad. To be the lame tattletale and snitch to Mr. Gakuganji because fraternization is wrong, and fraternization in the workplace is double wrong. “I should report you,” there’s a pregnant pause, “but I won’t.”

Why? He asks himself.

You seemed to have read his thoughts. “Why?”

Nanami doesn’t have an answer to that. Where is this slice of mercy coming from? All he knows for certain is that staring at the trembling woman in front of him any longer will have him blow a fuse. “Go home, Y/n.” It’s the last thing he offers before turning on his heel and walking back out into the Christmas function, swallowing down each and every confusing feeling swirling around his brain.

likes and reblogs are appreciated !

tags . • @justbelljust @amnmich @ti-mame @silkija @maddietries @vyntagei @ebrysteria @aesukuni

[rebelspykatie]

Steve’s never had anyone show any genuine interest in the things he likes. Robin rolls her eyes when he brings up sports or silly movies that don’t have a bigger plot or character work. Even though she played soccer, she doesn’t care about it in the same way that Steve cares about basketball or football. 

The kids make fun of everything from his taste in music to his choice in snacks for movie nights. Mike calls him a little housewife for baking one time and he never shows up with cookies again. They’re never intentionally mean spirited, or at least he doesn’t think so. He knows he can give as good as he gets when it comes to catty, sarcastic comments, but he tries to steer clear of personal attacks on someone’s identity these days. He learned that lesson with Jonathan. 

But even before the party came along, it was like that. His parents never stuck around long enough to find out what he was up to, never attending a game or meet, and certainly in the dark about what he might be up to outside of school. Tommy only ever cared about himself and Carol, only following Steve around for clout, popularity by association. If he asked him right now, he’d bet a lot of money that Tommy doesn’t even remember his favorite food or the movie he used to watch when he was sick. There was a point where he thought he could share things with him. Until he realized mid ramble about sports cars that Tommy wasn’t even listening to him. He was staring at Carol and nodding along with a vacant expression. 

So he stopped sharing. Stopped caring if people knew anything about him because they never asked. People always made assumptions about him anyway. The girls he slept with only wanted one thing. The kids were happy to let him chauffeur them around with no questions asked. Robin was the only one he let in, the only one that cared about digging deeper. But, and she never said in so many words, he could tell that she thought his interests were mundane, and clearly not something that sparked any enthusiasm from her. She couldn’t even keep up with the girls he slept with, giving him the same bored stare as Tommy. 

Even now, after a few years, Steve’s reminded that they never would have become friends if not for trauma and the secret inner workings of the Russian’s within Hawkins. He’s lucky to have her, but he doesn’t think she ever would’ve chosen this, chosen him. And that’s fine. He’s used to not being chosen. His parents didn’t choose him when they started leaving him alone at age 12. Tommy and Carol chose each other and the reign of a new king when Steve fell from his throne. Nancy chose Jonathan. 

He doesn’t think he has a lot to offer. 

Well, at least until Eddie comes along. He’s taken by surprise when Eddie asks after the song that’s playing in his car. He’d assumed Eddie only liked metal music, and yeah he pokes fun at the genre of music Steve seems to stick to, begging him to give metal a shot, but he doesn’t say a word about how lame it is. When they’re having a movie night, Eddie notices that Steve gravitates towards coke and brings him one without Steve asking.

After Eddie sees his bedroom, Steve gets a pack of hot wheels for Christmas. Eddie jokes that he should give one to each of the kids as their new ride, since they seem to be ungrateful little twerps. Steve places them right under his posters on his dresser and Eddie grins at them every time he comes over. They lay in bed and pretend to drive them on the ceiling like they’re kids again. It shakes something loose in Steve’s chest. 

Eddie hates sports, but he invites Steve over on Mondays, when Wayne is perched in his chair for football. He quietly works on his campaigns while Steve and Wayne watch the games. Eddie somehow worms his way into Steve’s heart, digging deeper and deeper with each new thing, like he wants to know more. Steve’s history is a minefield, but Eddie expertly navigates through it, leaving who they were behind, building something new together. Steve’s already halfway in love with him before he even realizes that Eddie is something that he likes. 

He expects to freak out a bit more, but who is going to stop him? Who is going to care if he wants to be with this boy? He’s spent so long ignoring parts of himself for others that he wants to cherish this fragile thing, to cradle it in his hands, make sure no one can ruin it for him. When he kisses Eddie, it feels like coming home, like he’s finally found that place he’s been searching for his whole life. It’s a kind of devotion that Steve’s not used to, born of love and not obsession or jealousy or anger. 

He’s not sure he deserves it, but he’ll do everything in his power to keep it.

[zaynveir]

Doing Christmas stuff with the Lads boys ⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺

Pairings : zayne/xavier/rafayel/sylus x reader

-its only november but i needed to write something festive

-So I’m new to tumblr and this is my first time writing a post like this so please be nice 😭 if you have any feedback please share!

🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖

Zayne

- you guys would definitely go to the local Christmas markets together and spend so much money on overpriced food.

- Because of Zayne’s sweet tooth, you would be checking out the stalls that would offer pancakes/waffles/churros that would have lightly dusted sugar or tons of nutella dripping from it.

- While walking around you would spot something but not buy it, Zayne would notice this and get it later as a gift.

- You would find a big Christmas tree and take a selfie with him and he would use it as the background for his phone.

- I would imagine there would be a street performer playing music and you would just stop and take in the beautiful song and just stand close to one another taking in the moment, hands intertwined.

- He would pick out an ornament to hang on the tree to remember that day.

Xavier

- okay so I think you and Xavier would go see the Christmas lights and walk through them.

- He would hold your hand the entire time and would wrap your scarf around you before giving you a warm smile.

- He would say things like “why does that reindeer look like that?” Or “that tree wasn’t decorated very well” which would make you laugh at how clueless he is.

- The different lighting would make him look even more pretty than he already does and you would capture it in so many photos.

- He would point out his favourite decorations and be so engrossed in the twinkling lights, that he wouldn’t even notice the cold air of the season. He would be so happy to share this evening with you.

- At the end of the night you would get hot chocolate and head back to his apartment, cuddle up in your matching pjs and watch some classic home alone.

Rafayel

- you can’t tell me that Rafayel wouldn’t take you ice skating in the winter months. He’d persuade you into going by saying things like

- “Cmon!…it will be an exercise to see how good your reflexes are from fighting all those wanderers.”

- He would try to be poetic and say “I would love to see you gliding around like a swan”

- You would be careful at first but you’d get the hang of it only falling on your butt 3 times, but Rafayel would surprisingly be clutching onto the side railings for dear life. You’d have to come over to him and teach him

- When you both got more comfortable it felt like the world melted away and it was just you two sharing a smooth dance

Sylus

- I think you and Sylus would do something like decorate the christmas tree together.

- “you don’t have a Christmas tree?! Do people in the N109 zone not have the Christmas spirit??”

“Sweetie I think people have bigger things to worry about than…a tree.”

- You would meticulously place ornaments only for him to place them somewhere else just to get a rise out of you.

- You would creep up behind Sylus and place the tinsel around him only for him to retaliate by chasing you to do the same to you.

- Mephisto would also take part placing the tinsel or decorations around the tree.

- At the end Sylus would lift you up to the top and you would place the star completing it.

[vampireimiko]

crying cause i can feel myself slowly going into writers block

[writersdrug]

The Good Friend

Chapter 1. A New Hobby

Summary: Johnny regularly checks up on Ghost after he sustained a bullet to the hip on their most recent deployment. It's already too late for him to escape, once he sees what's kept his beloved lieutenant so occupied over the past few days.

Warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, kidnapping, implied violence, restraining, psychotic behavior, blood, forced to help in kidnapping, obsessive behavior. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THESE TOPICS. By clicking "Keep Reading" you are consenting to be responsible for the media you consume.

A/N: The people have spoken

Simon on medical leave: a disaster and a headache for the rest of the 141.

There's a daily text along the lines of "Let me know when we get shipped out next." It never mattered how many times Price responded with "You're not joining us for a while. Find a hobby, Simon." He was persistent in coming back to work as soon as possible - shattered hip be damned.

Price had given Soap the job of checking up on the poor brute. "Maybe he misses the usual company." He'd say. "Go see 'im, check in with the muppet."

Soap was a good friend, but there was only so much grumbling he could stomach from Simon. Those "check-ins" would turn into a pity party, with Simon saying "I should be out there, helpin' you lot. Only wastin' away in 'ere. Losin' my head." And it was true - every time Johnny visited, there was an open can of beer on the coffee table, or a glass of whiskey in his hand. The bottle of prescription, opioid pain killers on the kitchen table. Some ill-advised coping mechanism within arm's reach.

It hurt Johnny to see it, it really did. He cared about Simon, missed him, would do anything to get his beloved L.T. back on the team. But he knew the man needed rest and recovery, despite how much it was sending Simon into a spiral. Johnny offered to help clean up his place, but Simon angrily denied the offer. "Don't need a bloody caretaker." He spat.

Just tryin' to be a good friend, Soap wanted to say, but instead he answered with a slam of Simon's front door and a hushed "feckin' bastard."

Johnny was tired of it. When the fuck was this medical leave supposed to end? Apparently, in two weeks ("thank the feckin' lord") -

But, Soap soon discovered, Simon had requested more time off.

Price stated he'd said something about "still not feeling right", which immediately had Soap confused. That old bawbag would've been back in the game the second the bullet was out of his hip, if it wasn't for regulations. It festered in the back of his mind all day: why would Simon do that? What could possibly hold his attention more than the task force? More than Johnny?

There was only one way to find out.

Soap stands in front of Simon's door, knocking loudly against the dark wood. An unexpected visit, which Simon might be frustrated by - but Soap is dying to see what's got his lieutenant so preoccupied. Hopefully, he hasn't fallen into a pit of depression, choosing to drink himself to death, rather than come back to the team.

However, after just a few moments of standing on his porch, Simon answers it rather quickly. And he looks happy. Delighted, even.

"'Bout time, Johnny." Simon says, stepping aside to let him in. "Was wondering if you got lost."

"Was wonderin' if you'd gone crazy." Soap banters back, kicking the door shut behind him. "Cap said ye want more time?"

Simon chuckled quietly, locking the deadbolt behind Soap. He shoves his hands - gloved hands - into his sweatshirt pocket. "Took his advice. Found a hobby."

"Lemme guess: knittin' me a Christmas sweater?"

"You fuckin' wish."

It's good. It makes Soap sigh with relief (internally), seeing Simon in such good spirits. He tosses the pack of blems onto the coffee table and follows Simon into the kitchen. The smell of rubbing alcohol hits him before he sees the counter; bandages, gauze, bloody gauze, hydrogen peroxide, and an open suture kit.

He stops in the doorway to the kitchen, his teeth bared in a wince. "Shite, Ghost- ye reopen tha' bullet wound?" he says, lifting up one of the bloodied pieces of gauze.

"Hm?" Simon turns to face him, then looks at what he's holding. "Oh- nah, I'm fine. Luvie here bumped her head."

Johnny looks up, confused, following Simon's back with his eyes as he makes his way into the dining room - his mind goes blank when he sees the poor, bloodied thing, tied to one of the chairs.

You're staring back at him, hair messed and blood dried against a nasty gash on your forehead. Fabric is stuffed into your mouth, with a strip of duct tape securing it around your head. Your eyes light up with hope as they take Johnny in; you're heaving, poor thing, breaths more like whines as you fight through the delirium of your concussion. Your right ankle is swollen and a nasty shade of purple. Blood all over the chair, your thighs, and now, Johnny finally notices, Simon's hands.

"Dinged 'erself pretty good on my bookcase." Simon says, too calmly, his broad frame standing behind the chair you're strapped into. "Slippery lil' thing, she is."

Simon rips the duct tape off - your voice immediately fills the room, echoing inside Soap's head with your begging and pleading, please please please get me out of here, please help me, he kidnapped me, he's a monster, please-

Johnny has to look away - there's too much noise, too much going on - his eyes trail down the dark hall and into Simon's bedroom. The bookshelf is toppled over, volumes strewn about the floor, a lamp shattered on the ground and casting an eerie angle of light through the room. He hears the sound of his own blood pumping, his chest and throat feel tight, mind racing a million miles a second. Did his LT do this? His Simon?

"Johnny."

He turns back to you. The duct tape is back in place, and now you're weakly thrashing about as much as you can - which really isn't much. Ghost is staring at Soap, one of his hands wrapped around your shoulder, knuckles white with how hard he's gripping you; which is most likely what's making you cry so much.

"Need ya to help stitch 'er up." Simon says, his eyes cold. It's an order. "'Fore she bleeds out on us."

Johnny feels like he's going to vomit. He needs to stop thinking, to stop shaking, and do something. His lieutenant's kidnapped a bloody civilian, for Christ's sake. Why? And what the fuck did he do to her?

"Won't let me touch 'er. Hard to stitch the wound when she's throwin' a fit - damn near stabbed 'er in the eye. I'll hold 'er while you do th' job."

Johnny finally inhales after holding his breath for so long. He stumbles backwards into the kitchen, remembering where the front door is, thinking he should have been in his car and on the phone with the police by now. If he does, though, Simon will be gone forever. Locked up in prison, far away from Soap. How can he save this? How can he save you, and him? "Simon, ye- ye can't be serious, mate-"

"If you walk out tha' fuckin' door I'll kill 'er before you reach it."

That ruffles your feathers. You're whimpering again, screaming against the gag - at him? At Ghost? He freezes where he stands, trying to remember his training. Act first, think later. Do what keeps the most people alive in the moment. That's what Simon had taught him. The same man who was threatening to kill you, ironically, based on what Soap decided to do.

"Get the sutures off the counter." Simon ordered, apparently sensing Soap's inner turmoil. He knows Johnny wouldn't leave you there, not after the threat.

He couldn't.

Soap exhaled heavily through his teeth, forcing his muscles to move. He snatched the suture kit off the counter and stormed back into the living room. He heard Ghost hum in approval as he slapped it down on the table.

"You do it." he said, his voice low and full with grit. "Ye stitch 'er up, I'll help ye take her to the hospital. We come back n' clean up-"

"Shut the fuck up-" Simon growled out to Soap, gripping your chin in his large hand and yanking your head back against his abdomen. "Get to work. Don't let 'er die on me, now."

Die. Die. You had a concussion and a headwound, but you weren't dying - still, he knew that wasn't what Ghost meant. If Soap didn't help, you would die, one way or another. He had to think of this differently, for the time being. He was helping you. He'd take this little by little - first, patch you up. Figure out what the fuck to do with you later; also, how to keep this from ruining Simon's career, because he couldn't leave the task force. Soap wouldn't let that happen.

So, he took the needle and sutures in his hand, and knelt on the floor, between your restrained legs. Ignored the way you screamed and thrashed, only held still by Ghost's meaty paws. Didn't focus on Ghost's satisfied grin. He was doing this to save your life, you'd understand that later. He was doing this to save Simon's career.

Like a good friend.

Next ->

Taglist: @a-sadmilky

Ghost photo credit to @chatskaja

[ssahotchnerr]

A holiday criminal minds fic would be so cute! Like, Hotch’s wife decorated the office while they’re gone for a case. They have secret Santa and Rossi dresses up as a reindeer idk 😭 I just think it would be adorable!

making spirits bright

hehe had to slip some girl!dad aaron into this <3 cw; fem!reader, domestic fluff

upon entering the bullpen after returning to quantico, aaron was anticipating action reports, concluding paperwork, following up with the precinct to ensure the case was settled properly - a long afternoon, so to speak.

but there you were, sitting in jj's chair patiently waiting. he had called you before the jet had taken off that morning, sent you a quick text when they had landed, and had been already calculating the minutes until he made it home. needless to say, he hadn't needed to count very long, his shoulders instantly relaxing at the realization.

your eyes brightened at the sight of him, quickly getting to your feet.

"hi sweetheart," aaron's face softened, his hand finding your waist momentarily to pull you in for a kiss hello. he was pleasantly surprised, but his brows still furrowed briefly in confusion at your unexpected presence. "this is a nice surprise, what are you doing here?"

"don't be mad," your eyes were nothing short of mischievous; a fiery, excited glint to them - you had been up to something. after offering a quick wave to the team as they too trailed in, you grabbed his hand, not wasting a second to pull him up the few short stairs, "i sorta 'broke' into your office."

"alright..." he went willingly, but spoke with a touch of hesitancy - not knowing what he was about to walk into. the possibilities were endless, especially when it came to you.

you flicked the lights on in his office, and it was just how he had left it a few days prior. the only difference now, a small christmas tree was set in the corner near the window. it was adorned with multi-colored lights, a star perched on top, and handmade ornaments - made of paper, felt, accompanied by a few pipe-cleaner candy canes. they were messily made, as they were created by a seven year old, but each special in their own perfect way.

the two of you neared the tree, and you waited a second before speaking, allowing time for aaron to soak it in.

but even with the moment of silence, aaron was still lost for words. he turned to you, a quizzical yet awed expression plastered on his face.

"jack worked on those for about... a month i believe? while you've been away and whatnot. i'm a bit surprised he didn't slip up and spoil the surprise, he was really excited." you laughed softly, your expression simply lighting up more.

"oh and this," you reached out, touching a circular, clay ornament. one that featured the tiny hand of your daughter, only a few months old and about to experience her very first christmas. "courtesy of baby girl. there's also one on our tree back home too - with jack's baby handprint - but i thought you'd might like one here as well."

aaron laughed breathlessly, the smile on his face widening.

"what do ya think?" you shyly asked as your arms wrapped around aaron's middle, peering up at him eagerly and cutely.

"what do i think?" aaron tossed his go-bag onto the couch, allowing him to wrap both his arms right back around you. he was still a bit dumbstruck, his eyes continuing to scan the tree, finding something new at each glance. "this is... i truthfully don't even know what to say."

"i- we just wanted to bring some christmas cheer to your office," you said, turning back to his surprise, the lights illuminating you softly. "i know it can be dreary and depressing and it just feels so cozy at home with our family tree. but you miss it when you have your long days, so this way, you're not missing out."

"this is exactly what was needed." aaron kissed your temple, and then your lips once in reach as your face lifted towards him again. "thank you. i love it."

"good, i'm glad." you grinned, your hand grazing his torso before finding his tie, your fingers playing with the length of it gently.

"but, we do have a problem."

your face pulled into a sheepish yet witty look, pulling on his tie the smallest amount, "that i broke into your office?"

"no," aaron laughed, shaking his head. "you're welcome to break in any time. the problem is, now i'm going to have a tree in here all year round. how can i possibly take this down?"