#no one has ever asked for this. i just find it fun

[hurlingdown]

                     THE BAAAAD TOUCH!

synopsis. there’s a very thin line between the way animals fuck on the discovery channel and the way you fuck them. featuring shameless, rough sex with the arcane men, and a third secret option at the end. jayce, vander, silco, viktor.

tags. top! reader, sub! jayce, vander, silco, viktor. reader has a cock. rough anal sex, creampie(s), exhibitionism, infidelity, cumslut! jayce, doggy, riding, size difference, huge cock, belly bulge, size queen! viktor, sweat kink, strength kink, breeding kink, implied marathon sex, dirty talk, degradation, praise kink, excessive amounts of manhandling, age difference, established relationships. cock-hungrified men. (lmao)

a/n. inspired by this song from bloodhound gang.

“does she know?” you pant into his ear, grip strong and sweaty on his hips, and jayce feels dirty, the way he’s being mounted like a bitch. “does she know about the way i fuck you? the sounds you make when i fill your pretty hole up?”  

he shudders, shaking his head, nails raking down your biceps as he tries to lift his head, to be less vulnerable in the way you’re taking him, but to no avail. he feels the hot burn of your palm at the back of his neck, and he finds himself back with his cheek pressed against the sheets, back arching with the violence of forcing his body to accommodate both pleasure and pain plowing away at his dignity. 

 “fuck!” he gasps, “let’s not, nnngh! talk about this. not, not right now.” it’s not the first time you’ve brought mel up in a conversation, but hardly ever more than an offhand comment, something to tease, something for fun. this… this was unknown territory. 

“why? you don’t like it?” there’s a strange displacement in your voice, a touch whiny, as though you were pouting at his denial. jayce thinks he’s going insane, because as manipulative as you were, there was no way he could say no to you. not with that look on your face. the one he can’t see but knows it’s there. 

“doesn’t matter,” jayce whispers. “it’s not ri- right.” 

you want to laugh. it’s not right? so it’s all right and just if he sneaks into your bed almost every other night for you to get him off simply because said girlfriend never could—nights of sweat and sinful lovemaking that end with him sneaking out of your room with a limp—but it’s not okay if you want to talk about it? how was that fair? 

“you don’t like her anyway, do you?” you mutter. “you should just get rid of her and be with me.” you tighten your hold on him. you want it to bruise. you want him to go home with your marks on his body. you want mel to ask about them and jayce squirming as he tries to think of a stupid excuse to fool her again. faulty gym equipment. sparring session gone wrong. you know all of his excuses. it’s funny, the way he tries to patch things up. “this is cruel… to the both of us. don’t you wanna get this over with?” 

“it’s- unh, complicated!” jayce moans, but there’s nothing complicated about it, he just doesn’t want to talk. doesn’t want to feel the shame and guilt making his guts tangle and heart pound—the way you fit into him so perfectly, so innately, like you’ve always belonged inside him, a missing piece to his puzzle. 

he bites back a whine as the thick head of your cock pushes against his swollen prostate, and he’s not sure if he can even feel his legs at this point. it’s humiliating, the way you’re cooing nasty words into his ear, handprints branding his hips as you tug him up only to slam downwards against him, pushing him further down into the mattress with every heavy thrust. 

“why? what’s keeping you then? hah. don’t tell me. does she fuck you like this too?” you snarl, sucking hot purple bruises down the column of his neck, salt and iron underneath your tongue making you hungry, and he keens. “so desperate for cock you’d let your girlfriend fuck you, jayce? well? does she fuck you as good as i do?” 

“noo,” jayce slurs, shaking his head, “nothing’s as good. you’re the best. love it. love you.” 

“really?” you bark out a laugh, and he nods dumbly, like his body’s conditioned to respond to your every whim, wanting to please, to serve. “well, i don’t see it at all. only thing you could ever be in love with is my cock.” 

“ah- ah, yeah, that too,” he whines, “love you more.” 

“liar,” you growl, and he sobs out at the way your length drags across his walls, thick and girthy, missing his prostate on purpose. it’s a punishment, jayce knows. he’s sorry. he feels so guilty. “pretty slutty liar. you’ll do anything to get stuffed, won’t you? even if it means cheating on your little girlfriend. you’ll even enjoy it, the moment you break her heart.” 

jayce shakes his head, tears blurring his vision. he can’t even say anything at this point, with the way you’re forcing him to take, fucking the words out of him. he can’t help being addicted to this. it’s too good. mel would understand, wouldn’t she? she would, if only she could have a taste of it. it’s not his fault. not really. 

“you probably think she’ll never know. you probably think she’ll never find out.” you’re talking again, but the sounds buzz by, intelligible. jayce swallows, letting your accusation wash over him. he has been careful, hasn’t he. surely she won’t know. surely she can’t know. “the way you start crying when you’re about to cum. you think she’ll never know about that, right?” 

he doesn’t know what you mean, but it’s so hard to think. there’s wetness on his cheeks and the low flame in his belly has blazed into a forest fire. he wants to cum. he needs it. he needs it hard and rough, bruises on his waist and hips and love bites on his collarbones, hard, heavy thrusts that make him feel dizzy and high and stupid, drowning him in the throes of pleasure that only you can give to him. 

“please,” jayce begs, tears streaming down his face. “i want, ngh… ah, want your cum in me.” 

and before he knows it, there’s the rush of hot cum flooding his hole, the sweaty press of your chest against his back, your hips trembling and bucking against his, and it’s so good it makes him see stars. but you don’t stop. it’s messy and filthy, and pure bliss when he feels you snake a hand into his hair and wrench his head up, rough and careless just the way he likes it. 

his eyes roll back before his cock starts helplessly spurting at the sight of mel standing in the doorway, watching him being bred like a whore.

VANDER

. . . vander thinks he maybe maybe made a mistake, telling you to be rough with him. because this is exactly the kind of rough he likes. 

“oh, fuck, sweetness,” he moans, arousal bleeding into his guttural voice as he arches his back and cants his hips backwards to receive your thrusts, taking you deeper inside, his ass bouncing every time you meet his hips with a wet, nasty ‘pap’. “t-thaat’s it, kid. right there, fuck, harder…” 

he’s clutching his pillow tightly, waves of pleasure shackling him to the bed as you’re pounding away at his hole from behind. you’ve snaked a hand into his hair to wrench his head up roughly, and a low whine pushes its way past his lips, punctuated by a sharp, deadly thrust aimed at his prostate. he’s pretty sure his own cock’s rubbed raw against the sheets, spurting so much pre there’s a sticky, slippery pool underneath him—easing the steamy push and glide. 

there are stars bursting at the corners of his eyes, threatening to consume his vision, and he can vaguely feel his toes curl and thighs spasm at every brush of your cock against his bundle of nerves. there’s sweat dripping down his face, a salty tang on his tongue, and he wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, hearing nothing but his own heavy pants and groans, attuned to the rhythm of your thrusts. it’s too good. almost makes him feel young again. he’s halfway through his forties, and yet you’re fucking him like he’s twenty. 

vander can feel your hands all over him, pressing heavy bruises onto the tender fat of his waist and hips, bodily dragging him back onto your cock every time you ram forward, making sure to put your entire weight behind it. the mattress is letting out horrible creaking sounds, the headboard of the bed slamming into the wall in perfect tempo, and the both of you are going to regret this later, but fuck, he doesn’t care. 

it’s addicting. it’s violent. vander shouldn’t be enjoying this, but he is. 

“fuck, love, y’er gonna make me cum already,” he chokes out, and it’s more of a drunken slur, really — there’s something about the way you’re treating him that makes him dizzy and weak at the knees. his fists are clenched, grasping at the bedsheets every time he feels like snaking a hand between his legs and jerking off to your thrusts. he wants to enjoy it, savour it—the way you’re taking him, pressing him into the mattress like you’re trying to break the bed before you break him, gaze hungry enough to swallow him up in your lust. 

“go ahead and cum, vander,” you drawl, grabbing a handful of his ass before sharply spanking him across, the sting rewarding you with a full-body shiver. “i want you to cum like it’s your last night on earth.” 

who the absolute fuck does this kid think he is, vander thinks, and he quickly buries his face back into the pillow because he knows he’s going to get loud. you’re insane. insanely bad at dirty talk, but your hunger makes up for it. he’s never liked dirty talking that much, but fuck, if you weren’t something different. cum like it’s his last night on earth? he really underestimated how greedy you were. 

“cocky,” he wheezes instead, once he’s caught his breath, “y’er gonna, haah, hafta fuck me harder for that to happen.” it’s yet another bad decision, and he’s digging his own grave, he knows it. as if you aren’t already fucking him within an inch of his life—the bulbous shape of your cockhead digging into his prostate with such immaculate precision, pressing the shape of your handprints into his skin as you fuck him with your eyes, your hands and your cock. 

hungry. intense. unforgettable. vander doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of it. 

before he can even breathe, you’ve hooked one arm under his thigh, tossing him over onto his back like you’re flipping a fucking pancake, and vander’s not a delicate man by all means. without wasting a second, you’re pushing inside him again, groaning shamelessly as his wet, warm cave engulfs you perfectly. vander makes a desperate noise, eyes squeezing shut—there’s no pillow to muffle his cries or hide his expressions from you this time, but he’s far too close to be embarrassed. 

the new position’s got you so deep inside him, and it’s getting harder to breathe, almost as though he could feel you all the way to his throat. it’s uncomfortable and very inconsiderate of his aching back, but the mind-numbing pleasure hammering away at his sweet spot makes up for it. 

“s-so fuckin’ good, kid,” he pants out, arching his back with a moan as you reach down to grope at his tits, the muscles plump and soft with tender age, hole clenching around you tightly every time you tug at his perky nipples. his cock’s all leaky, drooling over his stomach and making a mess, and he’s so aroused it’s almost endearing. “fuck me… god, fuck me.” 

he’s going to cum hands-free, vander thinks, and shit, you’re going to be so smug about this after you’re done with having your way with him. vander sneaks a glance at you—eyelids fluttering, making little grunts of pleasure every time you bully your way into his tight wet warmth. it embarrassingly makes the back of his neck burn, makes him feel all hot and sexy and wanted. 

“yeah? best cock you’ve ever taken, vander?” you purr, and his breath stutters, seizing up with a yell and then he’s fucking cumming with you balls-deep inside him. guess you’ll take that as a yes.

SILCO

silco doesn’t know how long he’s been bent over in that same fucking position, but he doesn’t plan on making you stop anytime soon. 

“darling, not so rough. . .” he gasps out, nails raking down the expensive wood of his office desk while you plow away at him from behind, his hole sopping wet but tight, as though you haven’t cum two times in him already. he can feel his knees knocking into the hard front of the desk with every brutal thrust, the weeping tip of his erection grazing the cool mahogany, the pleasure inside him making his lower belly burn with a flame he hasn’t felt in a long time. 

“why?” you grin, draping yourself over his half-clothed stature, his pants yanked down to his ankles as he’s bent over to take. you shuffle forward, making sure his ass is pressed snugly against your crotch before giving an experimental roll of your hips, always reaching deeper, for more. “worried that they’ll hear?” 

silco presses his lips together in a thin line, tilting his face away from yours, and if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he were sulking. you laughed. it was just too easy to piss him off sometimes. 

“i’m just playing around, baby. your office is soundproofed, no?” you straightened yourself, running a hand over the smooth, sensitive expanse of his back before returning to your firm grip on his bruised hips. he gave a shuddering sigh, trying to relax as you started to rock into him again with strong, steady thrusts. 

“it doesn’t matter,” he rasps, “we’re, hah, being too loud… sweetheart. s-sevika is right outside.” 

“don’t care,” you mutter. “i’m pent up. ‘least you can do is let me fuck you stupid. you’ll let me, right?” 

silco makes a noise at the back of his throat, half from displeasure, the other half from the sharp curl of arousal in his lower abdomen, making his cock twitch and leak. fuck if it didn’t turn him on when you talked to him like this. he settles for burying his face into his arms, preparing himself for whatever you were going to put him through. 

“be gentle,” he whispers, letting out a shuddering sigh. “i’m not so young anymore.” 

you could feel a grin pulling at the corners of your lips. yeah. sure, you were going to be gentle with him. with him looking like that. 

“hngh, r-right there…” silco mewls out, knees buckling repeatedly as he tries not to think about how loud he’s being. he supposes he could gag himself with something, your fingers, maybe, get them warm and wet for you while you use his face as leverage to fuck him harder, but he knows how much his noises spur you on, and right now he really doesn’t want to piss you off. not when you’re indulging him so well. “that’s it… you’re so good… darling.” 

“not so shy anymore?” you hummed, licking a hot stripe up his neck, his gasp twisting into a whine. “think we can make you louder?” 

“sweetheart,” he sighs as he feels your hand wrap around his throat, and he tilts his head back to let you grip it properly. “you already know what i want.” 

“well, i don’t think so.” you smile, leaning down to press your cheek against his, working away from behind with short, firm thrusts that steal his breath away. “remind me. did we use the magic word yet?” 

but just as he’s about to answer with snark, there’s the rap of fists against his office door, and silco feels his heart plummet. not now, when things were about to get good—this was the worst timing possible. “everything alright, boss?” 

“yes,” silco pants, “fuck… yes.” 

you can feel his nails dig into the back of your thigh, warning you not to pull out. you’re thick and heavy, resting against his stomach, and silco feels so fucking good and full. you can’t stop now. not until he’s had his fill. he can vaguely feel your warm seed trailing its way down his perineum in a slow trickle, and fuck, he wants more. wants to feel stuffed even without you inside him, drowsy and content. 

he blinks, brows furrowing as he catches himself fantasizing about you yet again. should he even be having thoughts like these in his forties? was this healthy? sex with you was life-changingly—and now apparently hormone-alteringly good. 

“sir?” sevika’s growl interrupts his train of thought. and yeah, not to mention—his second-in-command is right outside his office, while all he can think about is cock. shit. your big, leaky cock, buried to the hilt inside his hole. he wonders if it’ll be gaping once you’re done with him. and oh. cum. loads of your cum, filling up every inch of space inside him. making it hard to breathe. making him swel— “is someone in there with you?” 

“yes,” silco wheezes dumbly as you roll your hips against him with meaning, forcing him to take you deeper. he trembles, shifting back slightly to fuck himself on your cock, forcing a sharp inhale from you. “we are busy. you’re, oh… dismissed, sevika.” 

the silence is loud, save for the almost-silent squelches of your cock maneuvering inside him with all the cum stored in his belly. 

you can feel his heart pounding from the way your chest is pressed against his bare back. or maybe it’s your own. his walls squeeze around you, sinfully tight, pulling a muffled moan from where you have your teeth sunken into his shoulder. fuck. he’s—silco’s actually into this. you’d have never guessed he would be such a freak, for lack of a better word, but with how things were going . . . you didn’t mind it. not one bit. it drove you crazy with want, if anything. 

“... if you say so, boss.” the sound of retreating footsteps fills you with both relief and disappointment, but before you could even process what that means, you can feel silco gazing at you through his lashes, low and scrutinizing and something needy. 

“did i say you could stop?” silco grunts. “fuck me.” 

you let out a shaky sigh, hips already bucking back into the warm mould of your cock—and the next sound that drives past his lips is a loud and unabashed sob of your name. 

you think you might have unlocked something new in your lover.

VIKTOR

“it won’t fit,” viktor slurs, moans tumbling out of his mouth as he gives a shaky roll of his hips. he’s not quite there yet, with only the tip sucked in, but he’s making good progress. “i’m terribly s-sorry, dear. your… appendage. it’s too big.” 

his eyes flutter shut at the feeling of your hands forming a ring around his waist, strong and firm, a warm assurance that there was a possibility… although slight, that he’d make it. 

“it’ll fit,” you murmur, kissing the sensitive spot at the back of his ear, the one that makes him suck in a sharp breath and shudder. “you’re doing very good, love. just… a little more, yeah?” 

viktor looks down. it’s nowhere near a little more. you’re barely halfway in and he’s already thinking about quitting—has been, since the stupidly huge head of your cock breached his rim, making him feel a stretch that no amount of fingers or plastic toys could replicate. it was something extraordinary. overwhelmingly so. 

“please,” he mewls, forehead dropping to rest on your shoulder. “t-touch me? i think i’ll probably, hah, ease up a little if you would… oh, yes. thank you, dear. thank you.” 

it’s… in simple words, too much. you’re usually very considerate, taking your time with him with your fingers, rubbing on his tender walls until he loosens enough for you to slip another one in. the night would then end with you fucking his thighs, sticky and slick with his own cum. it’s good. it’s enough. that was until he started having thoughts of what it would feel like if you were inside him. 

but viktor would’ve never imagined it would be like this. the difference in size was just… comical. you were so deep inside him already, the impossible girth forming an obscene bulge over his abdomen, making him whine with the fullness. if this is already what it feels like to have you inside, then just what would it feel like to have you spill inside him?

he can’t lie—he’s spent nights waiting for you to fall asleep first so that he could scoop up some of the cum you had missed on the sheets, quietly fingering himself with the cold slickness. it didn’t feel right, even if it was yours. it just wasn’t the same. he wanted, no, needed to feel it for himself. 

it doesn’t help, the way you’re stroking him, ever so gentle with him. your huge palm covers his entire length without having to move much, huge thumb rubbing at his leaking tip, and viktor’s never been so hard before in his whole life. he’s so close already, hole fluttering around you uncontrollably, and it’s almost cute how it looks like it’s going to swallow you up. maybe it is. 

maybe it’ll fit. 

“last few inches,” you pant, fingers trembling slightly where you’re struggling not to press bruises into the cup of his hips. “can i-? please, vik. it’s so good. you’re so good. i just need a little more. please, baby.” 

“yes,” viktor blurts out, before he realises just what he agreed to—but within the next second he can feel something abnormally large pushing its way past his tight walls, faster and rougher than before, even as he tries to clench and hold still—it’s mean and a little too much, but then the back of his thighs meets hot skin and he nearly blacks out with the stretch of it all. 

“ngh,” viktor keens, trembling with exhaustion as he tries to settle into your lap comfortably with such a large intrusion within him. “soo full…” 

you sigh in pleasure, hands going back to his hips where they belong, pushing him down until you’re satisfied that he’s properly taken everything you’ve given him. it’s not a demand, viktor thinks, more like a comfort. telling him that you’ve always known he would’ve been able to take you in the first place. that this is where he belongs, filled to the brim with you and you only. 

he lets out a shuddering moan when you start to slowly bounce him on your lap, lifting him up with ease a good inch or two, before rolling your hips to meet his, pushing yourself deeper. “shit, vik…” you groan, and he cries out with every brush against his prostate, the sheer size of you making it impossible to miss it. “you’re so tight, baby… so perfect. i’m right here with you, okay? easy now, you’re doing so good.” 

you’re so good to him as always, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, but it’s different this time, and fuuck. viktor thinks he’s dying with how good it feels. he tries to steer his hips, to actually ride you instead of having you manhandling him up and down your cock, but there’s hardly any friction left now that he’s properly stretched, and any attempt results in him collapsing back to his knees, the pleasure making him weak. 

he settles for hanging onto you, arms wrapping around your neck and choking out little whimpers as you rock upwards into his waiting hole again and again, toes curling and nails scratching red trails down your back with the all-consuming pleasure.

it’s driving him crazy, the fullness, the simple thought of you pumping your seed and sperm into him, of making love with you. it’s nothing like the way it was written in the textbooks he had spent nights researching—it’s beyond anything he would have ever imagined. 

“please,” viktor sobs out, feeling strangely empty every time you pull out halfway, as ironic as it was—as though there was a chance you would leave him fully. the thought of it hurt. if only you could fit inside him forever. if only. “stay…” he cries, “cum inside. m-make me yours.” 

you lean forward, pressing your lips against his in a hurried kiss, at the same time grinding so deep viktor thinks, for a split of a second, that that might be you he’s feeling in his stomach. the broken wail he gives is loud and muffled, and you lap up the drool on the side of his face, watching as your lover’s eyes flutter shut at the feeling of being filled, properly this time, to the brink of spilling.

masterlist!

[fanfic-reading-challenge]

The 2025 Fanfic Reading Challenge

Welcome to another year of the Fanfic Reading Challenge (FRC)!

I won't bore you with the history of the challenge, this year, but I will welcome you to check out past posts that do explain some of it, as well as include a brief overview of what, exactly, this challenge is, though it does change year to year. (Essentially you read fics to complete goals and win bragging points and an artsy badge.)

This year is especially different, as I had the extreme pleasure of having @noxsoulmate as a partner in crime in keeping me hostage on track to completing this year's FRC. Another valued member of the mod team is @jandjsalmon and speaks for all of us if you need questions answered!

As for the challenge....

This is, indeed, a challenge. Of course.

First of all... you must obviously read fanfiction. As if you don't already!

You also need to download and make your own copy of the spreadsheet, which can be found here, as well as below in the important links section.

To participate in the challenge, you read fics that match the tasks in the challenge. An example of a task can be: "read a fic with a title containing the word purple in it." Should be easy! Of course, there are harder ones.

Which is why there are different modes of challenge to the FRC. These are as follows:

Participation (Complete 1 task)

Regular Mode (Complete 80 tasks)

Hard Mode (Complete 150 tasks)

Extreme Mode (Complete 220 tasks)

Complete (Complete 250 tasks)

The challenge lasts from January 1st, 2025, to December 31st, 2025.

There are badges that go with the modes completed, and even a secret 6th badge that will be fairly obvious if you look at the spreadsheet! Doesn't mean it'll be easy to complete though. *smirks* (Blame Noxy)

Most important of all: this challenge operates on the honour system. We don't check your work, or your reading logs (see below), so I mean, I guess if you want to be slippery with the rules, you do you, and that's on your conscience, but honestly it's so much fun to see how much you can get done by following the letter of the law/tasks! You can be slippery even with following the tasks fully. It's great fun. ;D

I think that's enough for an intro, really, maybe too much.

Important Links and Reading Logs/Trackers

As there is a component of the FRC that includes tracking numbers of words read, most of us use a reading log/tracker to keep count of how many fics we read, including data such as words, of course, chapters, month completed, ship, author, title, fandom, link to the fic, and such. It's a great place to mark what fics you want to read in the future as well!

This year we have FOUR trackers on offer, quite different from one another, so take a look, play around with them and check out their "intros", and choose according to what you think will work best for you!

Fic Tracking Sheets

Juulna's 2025 Reading Log

Noxy's 2025 Reading Log

2025 Jandy's Fic Tracker

Taru's Fic Tracker 2025

Discord

We have a blast on Discord. From general chatter to sharing pet pics to being there for each other during the tough times to forming lasting friendships and making friendships you’d never make in a ship- or fandom-specific Discord, to asking for help ‘rolling the dice’ (pick a number between 1-10!) to choose the next fic to read, to finding some of the really challenging task fills in fandoms people might not have ever read but are willing to try, or finding fandoms someone has never read and is very tentative about stepping out of their box, but they’re being 100% supported and know they don’t need to complete the fic for it to count for the task, stepping out of their comfort zone… we’ve formed a very odd group of, if not friends, then companions (but there are definite friendships that have formed!! Just ask the people who have started watching NHL and NFL together in our off topic channel!).

In any case, our Discord is not necessary, but it is a worthy and tactical element to completing many of the tasks of this challenge. 💙

And.... without further ado....!

The 2025 Fanfic Reading Challenge! (link)

There is an info/rules page as the first sheet on the spreadsheet that should fill in any further questions you have. It also has more contact info than just this page if you have any further questions and perhaps need a more immediate answer for your needs.

*Occasionally you will run into something that looks like an error, and it may in fact be one! Let us know if you see it. It's hard not to make a mistake on as large a spreadsheet as this.*

Please, first of all, have fun and just read fanfiction that you enjoy! I (Juulna) did that last year and didn't even come close to completing the entire challenge, and I still had a blast because I was enjoying what I was reading and rereading. Others took the challenge right to the completed end. Others forgot about it halfway through but still had fun, and some even went back and filled in the sheet for a really good showing! The challenge is what you make of it, what you want from it. So... just have fun. Read fic. Smile. Enjoy. :)

Second of all... well, we would love if you signal boost this post!!!!

Third of all, we do have our pinned post that includes a link to this page and that will include a link to our Discord and all our trackers as well, including past links for memento and informative purposes.

Thank you, and a blessed 2025 to all!

[katsu28]

snowfall

pairing: lando norris x best friend!reader

summary: when plans with your family fall through at the last minute, lando invites you to come home with him for the holidays. (3.8k)

a/n: the big finale!!! lando is so best friends to lovers coded, i couldn’t resist. does it snow in the uk in december, probably not but it’s for the plot so bear with me pls <3 happy holidays everyone!!

“Yeah, of course. Yes, mum, I understand. No, I’ll be fine, I promise. Okay. Okay, I love you too. Cheers, see you when you get back.” 

You end the call with a heavy sigh, tossing your phone away from you on the sofa.

That was your mum on the phone, telling you that her and your father wouldn’t be home for Christmas this year. You’d planned on going home to celebrate with them like you always do, but for the first time ever in your life, it looked like you were going to be spending Christmas alone. 

It was bound to happen sometime in your life, really. You’re an adult now, still trying to find your place and your people in this world. 

Speaking of your people, Lando has just made his way into McLaren hospitality, head on a swivel until his eyes land on you. He takes notice of your downtrodden demeanor immediately, marches his way over to where you are with gusto and plops down next to you, bumping his shoulder against yours. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks bluntly, dark brows furrowed in concern. 

You inhale a deep breath, forcing a smile onto your face to respond. “Nothing. How was testing?” 

“Fine. Seriously, what’s going on? Why do you look so sad?” He demands, but not unkindly or rudely. Just simply how Lando is with you, direct and to the point. It’s one of many ways he is around those he cares for. 

“I was planning on going home to spend Christmas with my family, but my parents aren’t going to make it home in time,” You confess. Your finger picks at the loose thread of your sweater sleeve, a welcome distraction from the lump threatening to form in your throat. 

Lando frowns. “Oh. M’sorry to hear that. That sucks.” 

“Yeah. Looks like I’ll be spending the holidays on my own this year.”

“What? No, you can’t spend Christmas alone. That sounds so sad.” 

“I’ll be fine, Lando,” You chuckle, patting his knee. It does indeed sound sad, but you won’t have Lando all worried about you when he should be celebrating with his loved ones. He’s got a lot to celebrate this year, and you don’t want your situation to take away from any of it. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“Come spend Christmas with me.” 

For a moment, you’re at a loss for words. Lando is one of your best friends, sure, but joining him for something like this seems too imposing of you. Despite being close with his family, you can’t do this to them so last minute. After a long year, this is their time with Lando. 

You shake your head immediately, wrinkling your nose. “No way. I wouldn’t want to barge in on your family time.”

“C’mon, you wouldn’t be! My family loves you.” He shrugs. “I mean, you’re basically an honorary Norris already at this point, and I think my sisters might love you more than they love me.” 

That makes you laugh. “Shut up, no they don’t!” 

“Uh, yeah they do.” 

“Okay, maybe they do. I’m just that easy to love.” 

“Yeah, you are,” He says, smiling softly. Your head cocks to the side at the pure warmth in his tone, and it seems to make him snap out of whatever trance he’s in, because he gives his head a subtle shake. “Seriously, come home with me. It’ll be fun. Way more fun than just sitting around at home watching those boring home improvement shows you seem to like so much.” 

“Hey! Those shows are fun!” You huff, swatting him on the thigh. 

“Sure they are,” He says, still unbelieving. “So what do you say? Christmas with the Norrises, how ‘bout it?” 

You let out a breathy chuckle, nodding. “Okay. Yeah, that sounds lovely.” 

“Mint! I’ll go let my mum know.” He beams, bouncing to his feet. “Better let Flo and Cisca know too, they’d kill me if I brought you round and didn't tell them ahead of time.” 

“Lando?” You call after him. He whirls around with an arched brow, phone already in hand. “Thank you.” 

“Of course. I’d never let you spend the holidays alone.”  

Looks like this Christmas might not be so bad after all. 

-------

The first thing you hear when you climb out of the car at Lando’s family’s house is a shout of your name. 

Before you can even register who might be calling you, a little body crashes into your legs, arms wrapping around your knees tightly. Now you know who it is, and you grin. 

“Why hello, miss Mila!” You chirp, kneeling down to be at her level. She giggles loudly at the finger you boop against her nose, throwing her arms around your neck as best she can, and you lift her up onto your hip. “Are you excited for Christmas?” 

“Christmas!” She cheers. Lando wanders over to the two of you from the boot of the car at that moment, and the second Mila spots him, she grins even wider than you’d thought was possible. “Lala!!!” She squeals, reaching out for him. 

Lando takes her into his arms, swings her around a little bit, beaming brightly at the peals of laughter that escape her with every swing. “My goodness, you’ve grown! You might be almost as big as me now!” 

Lando’s brother, Oliver, emerges from around the house now with his other daughter nestled in his arms, raising his free hand in greeting as he makes his way over. 

“Guess my brother finally gathered the nerve,” He says cheerfully, clapping Lando on the back. Lando not-so-subtly steps on Oliver’s foot, garnering a hiss of pain from the older Norris. “To…make it home when it’s still bright out! Yeah, he usually doesn’t come around til the girls have gone off to bed.” 

“It’s nice to see you too, Oliver,” You chuckle, pushing aside your confusion as you give a small wave to the toddler in her father’s arms. She waves back shyly. “Thanks for letting me join you guys this year.” 

“Please, you’re welcome here anytime,” Oliver replies, sounding more than sincere. “C’mon, let’s head inside. Mum and everyone’ll be stoked to see you.” 

Mila wriggles out of Lando’s arms to come hold your hand, dragging you towards the house excitedly. You don't notice Lando and Oliver dropping back, nor the hushed conversation they have that is definitely about you. 

Much like both boys have said, the rest of their family welcomes you with open arms.

His parents tell you how good it is to see you again, and that they’re happy you’d decided to come home with Lando, Flo and Cisca glue themselves to your side immediately to catch up with you, even little Athena starts to warm up to you the longer she watches her older sister play with you. 

You feel right at home with all of them like you always do, and it makes you start to forget about spending your first Christmas without your own family. Though, in a way, Lando’s family is starting to feel like yours too. 

-------

It’s Christmas Eve and you can’t sleep. You’ve been at Lando’s house a few days now and everything’s been great—the food, the company. Lando. 

You’re used to him being a little forward with his affections towards others, because that’s just the way he is. So when he pulls your legs over his lap while you’re watching a holiday film with the whole family, or rests his head on your shoulder during Monopoly, you don’t think anything of it at first. He likes cozying up to friends and being close to them. But as the days go on, it starts to feel different this time. 

At first you just assume it’s because he doesn’t want you to feel awkward, but then you catch him staring at you a few times in a way you can only describe as pure fondness. While you're on the sofa cuddled up with Mila and Athena watching one of their shows. As you're helping Cisca figure out what to wear for her next date with her boyfriend, or helping his mum in the kitchen. 

It could be platonic, but it feels a little too intimate to be so. 

You don’t want to think too much into it, though. It wouldn’t do you any good to get your hopes up about the possibility of something more with Lando when it could just be all in your head. 

Sitting up in bed, you scrub your hands over your face. Too many thoughts run their way through your brain for you to fall back asleep, no matter how tired you may be. You glance out the window beside you, and suddenly your attention is captured at the scene outside. 

It’s snowing. 

Sure, it’s an ungodly late hour, but seeing snow makes you want to go outside. Doing your absolute best not to wake anyone up as you swing yourself out of bed and creep down the hallway, you make your way down the corridor to Lando’s bedroom. 

You knock on his door quietly, listening for anything that could give away whether or not Lando was up. For a few seconds, there isn’t a sound. Then you hear the clacking of a keyboard and the faint sound of him talking, and you know he’s awake. He probably didn’t hear you knock. 

Pushing open the door slowly, you pad into the room to see him slouched over in his gaming chair with his back towards you.

“Yeah, mate, I’m gonna tell her—no, I’m not! Fuck off,” He says. There’s a lengthy pause—whoever he’s on call with is talking, you assume. “I’m just—I’m waiting for the right time. Like, I’ll know when it comes, won’t I?” 

Your heart gives an involuntary pang in your chest and you sigh, having already had enough eavesdropping on this conversation. 

You pad towards Lando, going for a gentle tap on the shoulder. Your hand just barely touches his arm, but he jumps about a foot in the air, flinching so hard you think the poor boy might’ve given himself whiplash.

“Jesus! What the—don’t sneak up on me like that!” He yelps, pushing one side of his headphones above his ear. On the screen, you can see he’s playing Tarkov again. Alway playing Tarkov instead of sleeping, that boy. 

This time, it works out for you. Now you can drag out into the snow with you. Not that you weren’t going to do it anyways even if he was asleep.

“You couldn’t hear me! What was I supposed to do?” You huff. Squinting at the other username on screen, you smile, pushing into Lando’s space to reach his microphone. “Is that Max? Hi, Max!” 

Lando’s voice sounds a bit strangled when he relays Max’s response a few moments later. “He says hi.” 

“What else did he say?” 

“What? Nothing,” He replies quickly, swallowing hard. “Why?” 

“That was such a long pause, there’s no way he just said hi.” 

“Well, he did, so…it’s whatever. What’s, uh, what’s up? Everything okay?” 

Now you remember what you came here for. Grinning, you bounce on the balls of your feet. “There’s snow outside!” 

“No way!” He says earnestly, cocking his head to the side. He abandons his game in favor of shuffling over to the window and peering outside, letting out a pleased little noise when he sees that it is indeed snowing out in the garden. “That’s wicked.”  

“Will you come outside with me?” 

He exhales sharply, giving an amused chuckle. “Yeah, right. I’m not going outside.” 

“It’ll be fun!” 

“Don’t see what’s so fun about freezing my ass off in the cold,” He grumbles, but you can tell he just needs a little more convincing. You jut out your lower lip, giving him the pout of yours that he can never seem to withstand, and his resolve starts to crumble. “No, don’t do that. Stop that right now. I’m not going outside with you at this time of night.” 

“Please, Lan?” You plead, taking his face into your palms so he can’t look away. For a split second, his gaze seems to flicker down to your lips, but before you can process the tiny movement, he’s squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Oh my god, fine,” He groans, shoulders sagging. You beam, wrapping your arms around him in a quick hug. “Let me go tell Max I’m being held against my will and then we can go.” He crosses back over to his desk and mutters something into the microphone that you can’t quite make out. 

As you’re pulling on layers to guard yourselves from the cold, he pauses, turning to you with one shoe on. “You didn’t, erm, happen to hear anything when you came in to get me, did you?” 

“No, why?” 

You’re not sure why you choose to lie about what you’d overheard, something about Lando telling some girl something at the right time. He hadn’t told you anything about having a crush on anyone, but then again, these past few weeks have been hectic. 

“Oh, nothing. Just wondering.” He pulls the front door open right then, suddenly seeming so eager to get outside despite his previous grievances. Something in his tone hints that it might not be as nothing as he says it is, but you won’t push. 

You traipse out into the garden after him, making careful sure to close the door behind you so the cold doesn’t seep in. Fresh powder crunches underfoot as you make your way further out. 

The falling snow has already begun to coat everything out here in layers, and you drag your finger through it, smiling to yourself at the clean cut line it makes.

It feels like another world out here. In a life that is so often always hustle and bustle all the time, the quiet of this time of night in the countryside seems deafening, but in the best way. Peaceful can only begin to describe how you feel right now. 

“Why is it so fucking cold out here?” Lando grumbles, burrowing deeper into his three scarves. Along with the two jumpers and thick coat he’d shoved himself into before even stepping foot outside, he looks well freezing.

“Don’t be such a grinch, Lan. It’s snowing!” 

He scowls. “It’s freezing.” 

“C’mon, at least try to have some fun! You’re killing my vibe, mate,” You huff, bending down to scoop up a loose handful of snow to chuck in his direction. It scatters into the air before it even makes it to him, but hey, at least he’s laughing now. You turn to say something else, but you’re immediately stopped in your tracks. 

A snowball explodes against your forehead before you can say a thing, spraying bits of icy snow everywhere. 

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry!” Lando yelps, nearly tripping on his own feet in his scramble towards you. You’re too stunned by the snow dripping its way down your face to even register his words. “I wasn’t aiming for your face, I swear! Are you okay?” 

You blink owlishly at him, at the concern and horror mixing in his expression as he takes you by the shoulders to check you out. He uses his teeth to pull off one glove, tossing it off to the side as he reaches to brush the snow from anywhere he can reach.

“For a professional athlete, you really do have shit aim,” You huff, playful annoyance in your tone. 

Lando’s teeth dig into his bottom lip, eyes crinkling happily at the corners as he giggles quietly. “I know. S’terrible, innit? Good thing my job doesn’t require me to do any throwing.” 

“Good thing,” You echo. 

His palms cup the expanse of your cheeks, the pads of his thumbs brushing across your cold skin delicately, and he’s looking at you in that way again, the way that makes you feel like you’re the only other one in the world. Blue-green eyes like sea glass flit around your face, thick brows furrowing ever so slightly as he inches forward. Slowly, like he’s giving you a way out if what he’s about to do isn’t what you want. 

You’re holding your breath as he gets closer, closer, closer, until—

Fireworks. 

As if kissing your best friend isn’t cliche enough, all you can describe of the feeling of his lips against yours is fireworks, bursting in your chest like little explosions. 

“Wait—” You breathe, splaying a hand across Lando’s chest to push him back a bit before the kiss can go on any longer. Despite how much you want it to continue. He makes some sort of displeased noise out the back of his throat, pink lips turning down into a pout. “What about the other girl?” 

That gets him to pull back a little more, head cocking and nose scrunching in genuine confusion. “What other girl?” 

“I lied. I did hear you talking when I came into your room, you said something about waiting for the right time to tell her something. You can’t be kissing me if you like someone else, Lando!” You exclaim incredulously. 

He regards you blankly for a few seconds. Then he starts to laugh. You’re trying to save his ass and he’s laughing at you. You scowl at him. “Why the fuck are you laughing?” 

“Oh! Oh, that was so good! That was gold, really,” He splutters, tears in his eyes. You swat indignantly at him and he holds up his hands in surrender, doing his best to catch his breath. “There is no other girl, you muppet! I was talking about you.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah, oh. Guess this is the right time then, huh?” He says, chuckling nervously as he rubs at his reddened nose. “So, here goes it. I think I’m in love with you.” 

“Why?” You ask, disbelieving. It’s a blunt response, you’re fully aware, but you want to know. 

“What d’you mean, why? Have you met you?” He scoffs, like he’s astonished you even have the nerve to question him. “You’re amazing. You’re kind and funny and so smart, and you make people happy—you make me happy, even when I’ve had the absolute shittiest day, I know everything’ll be fine as soon as you find me. You know what I need, even when I don’t know what I need.” 

You’re at a loss for words hearing all this now. How has Lando been in love with you all this time, with you none the wiser? 

“Why’ve you never said anything?” You ask softly.

Lando smiles almost sadly, letting his hands drop back down to his sides. “You’re one of my best friends. I’d rather keep my mouth shut if telling you meant losing you. Losing what we have because you didn’t feel the same way.” 

That, you understand. The fear of ruining your friendship with Lando is one of the reasons why you’d kept your feelings for him secret as well. So to both of you, it was better to ignore your feelings and stay this close than to let the other know and possibly lose one of the best things in your lives. 

“We’re idiots,” You sigh, closing your eyes. 

“You’re not an idiot,” He says immediately. Then he frowns. “Wait, why would you be an idiot? I know I am, but why you?” 

You grab Lando by the collar of his puffy jacket, pulling him into a firm kiss. If he’s surprised, it only shows for a split second before he’s kissing you back fervently, drawing you flush against him by the hips. His nose against your cheek is much colder than before, but the warmth that spreads from your chest down to your toes is more than enough to remedy it. 

“Please tell me that means you do feel the same way,” He pants, looking entirely dazed when you pull away. 

You raise an amused brow at him. “No, I just kissed the living daylights out of you because I don’t feel the same way—what do you think?” 

“Best Christmas gift ever, is what I think.” He smiles warmly. Then he shivers, blowing out a sharp breath. “Now can we please go back inside? I can’t feel my face anymore.” 

Once you’re inside and have shed your coats and shoes and anything else wet with snow, Lando nudges you towards the kitchen. “I’ll make us some hot cocoa.” He murmurs, quiet so as to not wake anyone in the house. You pause, causing him to look back at you. “What?” 

“The package kind or the real kind?” 

“What sort of question is that? The real kind, of course,” He snorts. “With milk and everything.” 

“Oh, you do love me!” You say gleefully.

Lando rolls his eyes playfully, giving your hand a firmer tug that has you sliding right in under his arm on your socked feet.

Despite all his moaning and groaning about being cold, he’s pleasantly warm, and you sigh, nuzzling in closer. He welcomes your closeness, dropping a kiss to the side of your head as he shuffles his way towards the pots and pans cupboard with you latched onto him, not even trying to wriggle out of your grasp.

It feels natural because you’ve always been close. Though now, things have changed. Now, you can kiss him if you want to, instead of wondering what Lando would do if you did it. You’re not just friends to each other anymore. 

You press your lips against his quickly as he’s piling marshmallows on top of two mugs of hot cocoa, pulling back right after just to see his reaction to the impromptu kiss.

As expected, his mouth curves into a grin, dimples on full display. He flicks a marshmallow at you, and you reciprocate, tilting your chin up at him in challenge.

Soon enough, now you’re both chucking the tiny white sweets at each other, trying and failing to catch them into your mouths. The first of you to catch one of them is you, and you cheer, flinging your hands in the air. 

“Oh my god, shush, you! People are sleeping!” He breathes, lunging forward to press a hand over your mouth as you’re mid-shout.

Your eyes widen in comical realization and it makes him laugh, which makes you laugh. His hand falls from your face as you both fall apart in quiet giggles. 

You’re laughing because he’s laughing, he’s laughing because you’re laughing, and neither of you can stop until your sides hurt. 

“C’mere,” He murmurs, stepping in close and sliding a hand around the back of your neck. His gaze flits all around your face, taking in the sight of you with eyes that twinkle with happiness even in the darkness of the kitchen. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Lan." You smile.

He kisses you then, long and sweet and with such gentleness that it makes your stomach do somersaults. 

In the morning, you’ll need to figure out how you’ll play things with Lando’s family, and then everything after. But not now.

For now, you’ll watch the snow fall outside while you snuggle up on the sofa with the boy you love and a mug of not so hot cocoa. 

So maybe this Christmas hadn’t gone exactly as you’d planned, but really, you aren’t too sad about it anymore. You wouldn’t have it any other way. 

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[feministfang]

I am not even anti-billionaire when it comes to rich women. Women deserve to be ultra rich and live however we want; having financial freedom, real independence, enjoying luxury, not owing our time and energy to anybody, and being impossible for men to exploit us cause we don’t need them for anything. I myself am working hard to be rich enough that i don’t have to work hard anymore and so i can enjoy my life while fulfilling my desires that are far beyond my basic needs. If i ever become as rich as Taylor Swift, i'd love to have my own private jet as well and use it to travel everywhere while leaving the carbon emissions on every jealous hater’s face to make them feel suffocated so they can shut their mouths for once!

These low-life, chronically online, judgmental freaks who talk about caring about humanity or the environment only do their judgmental shit talk when they have to target or blame a woman. Meet them irl and you’ll see they are just jobless, miserable nobodies sitting behind their phones all day scrolling and pointing fingers at other women thinking they can bring them down to their level. Sigh!😮‍💨 And they fail every time. You will never find these people actually doing something nice for the world themselves because they think hating and blaming women automatically puts them in the "good people" category and gives them the validation of everyone else pretending to be a good person on the internet! They are so horrible they even defend cyberbullying rich successful women with comments like:

“but she’s a billionaire she deserves backlash”

“oh she’s so rude and obsessed with herself she deserves all the hate”

“oh but she has never donated her money to charity she’s so selfish”

The so called angry liberal activists, including some of the radfems, go in all their way to pass such stupid ridiculous comments; no wonder so many women are leaving feminism because what we want is freedom, rest and to own our lives. We are not here to carry the burden of everything y'all like to put on our shoulders. Feminism is only about our liberation from men and patriarchy so put your focus on that, whatever we do other than that is none of anyone’s damn business. Stop expecting feminists to solve every humanitarian crisis as we are not here for that! Stop asking women to cut off our expenses and make sacrifices for the sake of others. No we won’t do that! Cope and cry! And do it yourself if you care!

And to the women who often get guilt-tripped by these miserable insecure losers for wanting a rich luxurious lifestyle, ignore them all! They are not at your level for you to be wasting your energy on them. You are the only one working hard for yourself to gain these privileges, money, and freedom. You deserve to cherish it however YOU want, and not according to these low-value people who didn’t put an ounce of effort in your life but have the audacity to tell you what to do with your blessings. They all didn’t support Taylor Swift in 2016 when she was cancelled, didn’t care about how she was feeling, refused to acknowledge her existence like cowards to be on the safe side of the internet, and also participated in cyber bullying her all over the internet just for fun. Now when she’s a self-made prospering billionaire, all of a sudden she exists in everyone’s mind as a horrible person because she is not living her life the same miserable way as theirs.

Always keep in mind that they don’t even hate you, they hate themselves, they hate their lives, they hate everything about themselves so what they direct at you is just the projection of their own insecurities and they always do it in the form of gaslighting. If Taylor Swift did it while enduring the entire world hating on her, so can you! Stay evil and selfish while sipping on your fav wine in your private jet and let them cry about it because nobody is important when you’re lost in having fun, let alone their opinions. I am proud of you for choosing to upgrade your life, instead of suffering in the same shit! Cheers! 🥂

i will always be anti-billionaire, but it pisses me off when people talk about Taylor swift likes shes the literal spawn of Satan. sure, she does have a very big impact on the environment, but I see males harassing her about her carbon footprint but don't bat an eye at elon musk or any other male billionaire. if you're going to target a billionaire for their impact on the environment maybe focus on all billionaires, not just a woman lmao. don't claim to be doing this to "help bring awareness for the earth" when you literally only talk about taylor

[kookygranger]

Blue Christmas

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Aka Fairytale of Hawkins: Part Three

Summary: The town of Hawkins calls for you once again this Christmas, but with sugar-laced memories of a certain metalhead tainted by a recent breakup your stance on the holiday season has returned in full force.

Warnings: angst with fluff ending (it's a Hallmark Christmas!), casual holiday drinking, exes to smitten, reader and Eddie are in their late 20s/early 30s, swearing

Word count: 6.8k

Author's note: It's been a year since we were all here in this little corner of the world so I would just like to say – whether there were more moments of accomplishments, love, gratitude, euphoria, or just more of the same as these past few years seem to have presented so many of us – I hope you find some form of joy and a moment to breathe at the end of another year, or at least that it comes to you soon. You are not alone in this feeling; we keep on moving.

Part One | Part Two

8 weeks ‘til Christmas

“I’m gonna book my flights tonight, do you want me to do yours too?” The blank stare you give Robin is reciprocated when she looks over at your silence. “The price will just go up if we wait.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Booking flights. For Christmas. To Hawkins.” Your frown deepens with every additional sentence she pushes out. “We talked about this last month.”

“You thought I was serious?”

She shifts her body to face yours on the sofa, tucking her leg in. “When I asked if you were coming you said, oh sure!”

“Robin, it’s called sarcasm. I thought you were fond of the language.”

She frowns back at you, “You’re not coming for Christmas?”

You shake your head, “You can’t be serious.”

“Everybody’s expecting you.”

“I’m pretty sure they’re not.”

“You had so much fun last year–“

“Robin.”

“–Max and El want to go ice skating with you, and Steve’s already making plans–“

“Robin!”

“What?!” She throws her hands in the air, her shoulders meeting her ears.

“Eddie and I broke up.”

She nods once, “I know.”

“Okayyy, so what makes you think I could ever go back to Hawkins?”

“You’re being a little dramatic.”

“I can’t crash your Christmas are you kidding?! I’m the ex-whatever now. I’m the outsider again.”

She rolls her eyes, “Except you’re not. You’re a part of the family. Everyone’s so excited to see you.”

“Uh, I don’t think Eddie is.”

She breathes out a huff, “I think if the two of you saw each other this whole thing would just blow over.”

You tuck your legs towards your chest, focusing back on the TV.

“I’m not having this conversation again. Eddie was very clear about what he wanted. He doesn’t want to see me, and I’m never ever going back to that town. Especially, not for Christmas.”

***

7 days ‘til Christmas – Hawkins, Indiana

“Are you just gonna stand there pouting the whole time or are you gonna join in?”

Robin’s voice snaps your attention from Frank Sinatra crooning from the open window of her parent’s house. You frown, looking down at the string of lights wound around your hands then up at Steve as he balances on the ladder, placing the lights along the gutter and brushing the snow away as he goes.

You peer around the ladder at Robin, holding her own bundle in the warmth of the house. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Try looking a little less like you’re being held against your will.” She shouts through the window.

You’re about to tell her that’s exactly what’s happening, thinking back to a couple of days ago when Steve had shown up out of the blue at your shared apartment, telling you he was going to drive Robin home for the holidays before suggesting you all go out for something to eat before they left. It had taken you 28 minutes to ask where on earth Steve was going, initially distracted by his detailed update of Dustin’s last year of college. You clocked the shifty look he shared with Robin in the front seat at the same time you realised you were about to turn onto the highway.

But Steve interrupts your bitter reminiscing with his own interjection, “Jesus Rob, leave her alone. I don’t see you out here freezing your ass off.”

You thank Steve as Robin rolls her eyes and resumes decorating.

“Anytime. We kidnapped you ‘cause we love you, you know that right?” He looks down in between the gap of his arms with an apologetic smile.

“Yeah, I know.”

He nods, “It’ll be alright.”

You give him a barely reassuring nod in return, ignoring the stinging at the back of your eyes while Frank sings about glistening treetops like the snow-capped ones lining the suburban street. You sniffle and wipe your nose quickly, hoping Steve thinks it’s just the cold and has nothing to do with how you wish it was his roommate who was comforting you instead, and the pain of knowing he was so close but wouldn’t care anymore.

You focus on unwinding more of the lights as Steve descends the ladder to move it over.

How the hell did you get dragged into this again?

***

I’m twirlin’ a cane made of peppermint

Uh huh (uh huh), uh huh (uh huh)

Nice sticky hands, sticky peppermint

Uh huh (uh huh) uh huh (uh huh)

Spun sugary cloud I’m floatin’ on

The fresh fallen snow melts into the tyre tracks left by traffic along the main street. You watch it through the frosted glass of the diner, one hand cradling the warm mug on the table in front of you.

“Gosh, you’d think they’d give the Christmas songs a break every now and then.”

“I actually kind of like this one.”

Nancy watches you watching the outside world, checking over her shoulder to see if Robin is still occupied in the bathroom before leaning in across the table.

“So, how are you feeling about seeing him? Have you two talked about it yet? Are you both going to be at everything together or are you taking turns? We could totally do something separate if you’re not feeling up to it–we could go shopping, just us two!”

You turn to smile at her, “Jeez Nancy, you should be a reporter or something.”

She shakes her head with a smile, “Sorry. I just know things can feel a little overwhelming coming back to Hawkins with everybody here. I don’t want you to feel left out or uncomfortable or anything.” She glances over her shoulder again, “And Robin kind of seems–“

“She’s not really accepted it, I think. Keeps saying it’ll all blow over.”

“Could it?”

Your attention is caught by a man ringing a gold bell in a Santa suit walking past the window before it falls on Nancy again, with her look of quiet hopefulness. She’s smart, defiant, and effortlessly beautiful. Even in your brief encounters with her, you’ve always been in awe of her strength. You think about Steve and wonder how long it took for the pain of being around her to turn into gentleness again. You think about asking her how you can be strong and vulnerable in love at the same time.

“It just didn’t work out. I’m sure he’ll find someone better for him soon enough. If he hasn’t already.”

“Oh, n–“ Nancy flinches as Robin slaps her hands on the table, before sharing a knowing smile with you at her proclamation.

“I just had the best idea!’

“In the toilet, Rob?” You laugh, “Can’t wait to hear this one.”

She slides into the booth seat next to you, bumping your shoulder gently with hers. “I think we ditch the civilized lunch, go home, get changed and meet back at the bar for a grown-up girl’s night. Whaddya think?”

You shake your head, “I don’t think grown-ups actually call themselves grown-ups.”

“They refer to themselves as adults,” Nancy nods knowingly, “and they pronounce it a-D-ults.”

You turn your head towards Robin, “Plus our last trip to the watering hole in this town didn’t really end well for us.”

“He won’t be there if that’s what you’re worried about. Steve said he works late at the shop on Fridays.”

“Robin.” Nancy’s warning glare is enough to make you feel flushed, but Robin only shrugs dramatically.

“Why does everybody keep looking at me like that?! This is my best friend,” her arm squeezes around your shoulders and you giggle when she pinches your cheeks together, “and I’m always looking out for her, which is why she is here and why we’re getting festively hammered tonight at the Hideout. No boys allowed.”

***

The Hideout is exactly as you remember. All sticky tabletops, dim lighting, and gruff patrons (with the exception of a few young home for the holiday-ers). Robin wastes no time in ordering shots, keeping both you and Nancy on your toes, until you’re very much not.

“I can’t even tell which is stripes and which is…the other one.” Nancy drops her pool cue on the green table. “’M calling Jonathan.”

“I’ll call Steve!” Robin follows her to the payphone on the wall.

“But we can fit one car.” Your slightly slurred voice of reason is waved off by Robin and it’s not long until you’re waving at Jonathan’s retreating car, feeling her head slump against your shoulder, your breath leaving you in clouds.

“I don’t feel good.”

You pat her gently on the head, “Steve will be here soon.”

“No, I really don’t feel good.”

“Are you going to throw up?”

She mumbles something that sounds like a yes into your shoulder and you move swiftly to turn her body away from you and support her off to the side of the bar where there’s shrubbery. She spits a couple of times first and you think it might be a false alarm before she’s vomiting all over the bushes.

“Okay, there we go.” You pat her on the back, holding her hair away from her face.

There’s a slam of a car door echoing across the small carpark that makes you turn your head, hoping it’s Steve. When you hear another one followed by girlish giggling your attention turns back to Robin, finally starting to shiver from the cold as the alcohol begins wearing off.

“C’mon Steve.” You mutter.

The hand that’s rubbing circles on Robin’s back freezes when you hear a familiar voice cut through the giggling behind you.

“And then the car just sprays the hell out of him with oil.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

You glance over your shoulder with a hammering heart; one that feels like it drops to your stomach when you see those familiar curls and his dimpled smile when the pretty girl he’s with reacts to his story. The girl who has her hand tightly clasped around his leather jacket as they walk across the close-to-icy pavement. Your head snaps back around when they get closer, and you’re thankful for the poor lighting keeping you mostly hidden until Robin’s hacking up sick again.

“Gross.”

Your eyes screw shut at her words, your body stilling until you hear the front door of the Hideout close behind them both. You’re saved moments later when Steve pulls up right beside you.

“Jesus Christ.” Steve helps you get Robin standing upright again, grimacing at the way her head lolls as you both shuffle her into the passenger seat.

“Pretty sure it was the decision to switch to spiked egg nog to keep the “debauchery festive” that did it.” You sigh, then smirk at Steve’s perplexed look, hands on hips and head shaking. “Just remember you’re moving in with that.”

He winces, “Yeah, you forget the intensity of Robin when you’re not around it that often.”

“You two are going to have so much fun.”

Steve looks at you, eyebrows raising, “I thought it was us three? You change your mind?”

You shrug, biting your lip as he watches you with confusion, “I don’t really know anymore.”

He just nods slowly then, “Okay, that’s–okay. I wasn’t gonna start looking at places until the New Year, so you have a bit of time to decide. We can talk about it later.”

There’s a momentary silence that’s interrupted by Robin mumbling something about getting fries.

“No, we’re going straight home.” Steve shuts the passenger door and squeezes you on the shoulder before walking around to the driver’s seat. You look back at the bar, expecting to see him walk through the door with a cigarette prepared in between his lips, but you quickly get into the car before you get caught.

***

6 days ‘til Christmas

The screaming kid being dragged down the aisle away from the candy does nothing to soothe the headache you’re currently enduring. Nor does the slightly flickering and dim fluorescent lights of the small grocery store, as you struggle to make a decision in front of the potato chips.

You hadn’t slept much, despite your heavy limbs and swimming head when you slipped under the covers on the sofa bed. You couldn’t get the image of him smiling at another girl off your mind.

It had only been a couple of months did he move on that quickly?

Did he know her while you were together? Was she just waiting in the wings? Did something happen between them while you were–no, Eddie wouldn’t do that. But maybe developing feelings for someone else was the catalyst for him breaking it off. God, she was pretty.

Needless to say, your brain is a little fried from the tossing and turning and struggling to make a decision about snack foods. It even takes a moment to register the questioning call of your name behind you.

You turn around.

“I thought that was you darlin’. What a surprise.”

You smile, taking in the worn flannel and pristine trucker’s cap of the older man in front of you.

“Hi, Wayne.”

He embraces you briefly, the scent of a familiar brand of cigarettes stirring a pang in your chest.

“Ed never told me you were coming back for Christmas.”

“Oh, well I didn’t know until about two days ago myself. I’m not sure if he did either.”

“Robin wear you down, did she?”

“Kind of.” You offer him a small smile.

Wayne rubs the grey stubble on his jaw. “You’re welcome to come over again on Christmas day. Whatever happened between you two, you’re always welcome.”

You frown, “That’s really sweet Wayne, but I don’t think he–“

“Hey old man, you want the creamed corn or the regular–“

You make eye contact at the same time. Eddie walks down the small aisle holding up his options, his sneakers squeak when he comes to an abrupt stop.

“Shit. I mean–hi.” He shakes his head quickly.

Wayne crosses his arms, “Christ son, what kind of greeting is that to a lady.”

You burn under the attention of the two, the situation not what you had anticipated when you entered the store. Damn small towns. You didn’t get a good look at him last night, but he looks well. His hair is freshly washed and a little shorter than the last time you’d seen him. He must’ve gotten that trim he kept putting off. But there’s no dimpled smile. Just a look of uncomfortable shock.

“Um, I should get back to Robin,” you hold up the basket in your hands full of sugary hangover food and boxes of Kraft mac and cheese, “she’s feeling a little rough this morning.”

“You two been celebratin’ early?” Wayne smiles.

“Uh,” your gaze flickers to Eddie briefly, “just went to the bar for a few drinks last night, which Robin couldn’t exactly keep down.” You see the realisation hit him in real time, his brows creasing before his eyes widen, turning your attention back to Wayne as he chuckles.

“Well, you better get home quick then.”

“I will. Have a Merry Christmas Wayne.” You hope he doesn’t take offence to the almost grimacing smile you give him, but you can’t muster up anything better given the situation. “See you later, Eddie.” You turn without another glance at him, feeling embarrassment wash over you when you hear a light thump and Wayne’s grumble at Eddie’s complaint.

“Ow.”

“You better get your tongue untwisted next time, son.”

***

He watches the windows of his van frost over quickly after he cuts the engine and the warm air off. They said to expect heavy snow any day now, continuing into the new year. Eddie can’t move his hands away from the steering wheel.

He thought this would be the first time you’d see each other when everyone gathered at the Buckley’s for a Christmas movie night to kick off the festivities. He’d been preparing himself for this moment, even going as far as washing his hair this morning, which he was kind of thankful for given he’d run into you at the grocery store earlier.

You stole his words from him.

Not that you were wearing anything particularly flattering, he’s sure you actually had pyjamas on under your thick coat, in fact you looked a little tired. But, fuck. You always looked beautiful.

And Eddie wasn’t expecting to see you yet, especially not last night at the Hideout. He shakes his head, of course you saw that. He’s sure if there’s some higher power out there controlling his ill-fated life they had a good chuckle about that shining moment.

This was where you were supposed to be reunited, in a controlled environment around friends flowing with the holiday spirit – just like last time. He was going to find a quiet moment to talk to you, to apologise, to explain his cowardice.

Now he couldn’t work up the courage to leave the van.

It’s the banging on the window next to him that startles him out of his trance.

“Dude, what are you doing?”

Despite the teasing, he can’t help but smile at the smirking, still youthful but grown faces of his younger D&D cohort.

“I bet he’s crying to a sad pop song.” Dustin nudges in beside Mike, the window framing them along with Will and Lucas as they all push up against the glass, the condensation not enough to hide their taunting looks.

The door creaks as he opens it, pushing the group away with a wave of his hand and a faux snarl. “Get inside, you little Gremlins.”

He’ll never tire of hearing their collective laughter, even if it’s at his own expense.

He follows the kids up the icy path to the house, ending up in a half-hearted wrestle with Dustin when he asks if it was Joni Mitchell he was listening to. He’s choking out a rendition of River when they tumble through the door with Dustin in a headlock under Eddie’s surprisingly firm biceps.

Your eyes are wide when they stop right in front of you.

“Can I take your jackets?”

Eddie straightens up quickly, his face flushed while the colour quickly drains from Dustin as his air supply returns.

“Uh, sure.”

You hang everyone’s coats up on the hooks in the hallway, and Eddie swears there’s a zap when your fingers brush his as he hands off his leather jacket. You’re wearing a cute Christmas sweater. Not one of those garish over the top ones, just a simple forest green and white knitted thing that makes you look cosy and makes him miss the feeling of your arms wrapped around him. You join the others in the living room off to the side of the hall without another word, leaving him standing there with his party.

“Well that was weirdly formal.” Lucas pats him on the back as he brushes past and the others follow his lead. Eddie sighs, wanting to just turn on his heel and bolt, but more determined to talk to you and encourage you to start looking him in the eyes again.  

You’re separated from him by the group crammed into Robin’s parent’s living room. Bodies spread out across couches and cushions scattered on the floor, some innocent cuddling and even more innocent squabbling. You’re only a few metres away across the other side of the room, but it feels like you’re unreachable to Eddie. He still manages to steal glances at you, laughing along to the conversations, your pretty face lit up by the Christmas tree and the company.

After what feels like hours, he finally gets his moment near the end of the film, his attention drawn to you in the dark as you stand up and make your way to the kitchen alone.

He waits a minute, praying nobody else decides to join you, before rising slowly from his seat nonchalantly walking in the same direction.

He finds you at the sink with a glass of water, looking out the window at the Buckley’s backyard.

“They say it’ll probably snow overnight.”

You jump at his voice, the water in your glass spilling over onto your hand.

“Shit, sorry.” Eddie holds out his hands as if trying to calm a wild animal when you turn around.

“It’s okay, I was just…somewhere else.” You give him a weak smile, drying your hands on a nearby tea towel. He steps a little closer to you when it looks like you’re going to move away.

“I know we have a lot to talk about, but I wanted to clear the air about last night first.”

“We don’t have to talk about anything.” You shrug, still not catching his eye. “It’s not any of my business.”

His chest puffs up under his maroon sweater (the one you like) before he sighs, “She’s the receptionist at the shop. She keeps pestering me to get after work drinks with her.” He scrambles to get to the point when he notices you step towards the door, “She won’t get the hint every time I say no, and she stayed late last night just so I wouldn’t have an excuse. I was just tryna’ get it over with. Show her that we probably have nothing in common and let her down nicely I guess.”

“Eddie, you don’t owe me an explanation just because I saw you.” You smile, finally looking up at him and he hates the insincerity of it, the clouded over eyes that look straight through him. “You can see whoever you want, it’s none of my business.”

He shakes his head, reaching out to you, “I’m not seeing anybody, of course I’m not sweet girl–“ That gets a reaction out of you, and the anger, the lowering of your walls gets Eddie’s heart racing.

“Don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me that anymore.” You’re looking at him now, really looking at him, eyebrows pinched in indignation.

“I want to apologise.”

3 months ago

He felt it coming from a mile off. The way you had an excuse every time you were supposed to come down to Hawkins. The way you switched subjects on the phone whenever he brought up future plans, concerts happening next year, a pay rise that meant he could afford a decent place when Steve inevitably moved out. No matter what everyone would say about his intelligence, Eddie Munson could read the writing on the wall.

So, when you finally caught up after weeks of dodged calls and visits, he had his mind set. Get out before he was pushed out. Be the breaker not the broken.  

“So, Robin and Steve moving to Indy huh?

“Mhm.” He hums in reply as you try to stir up conversation from the kitchen. There’d been an awkward silence ever since he’d walked through the door of your apartment. You watch him sitting on the edge of your couch, a dark cloud hanging over him you were trying to shoo away.

“Didn’t think them being separated would last much longer,” you breathe out a laugh through your nose and he only nods, still distant. Your hands are clammy with nerves, a slight shake to your voice he doesn’t seem to notice. “You know actually, my lease is up next month, I was thinking of moving in with Robin for a while.”

“Your place is nicer.”

You tip your head back and forth, “Yeah, but she has an extra room since her roommate moved out.”

“What are you gonna do when she goes?” His leg starts to bounce, and it’s like his mouth is moving but his mind is elsewhere.

“It’s not until next year…I was thinking maybe, well not maybe, I was just thinking that I would–“

“This isn’t working, right?” His head snaps up and it takes you a moment to answer him under his furrowed gaze.

“It’s…what?”

“I mean, I’m exhausted from all the travelling back and forth and I know you are. Why the hell would you wanna spend your weekends in Hawkins?”

You take a deep breath, “Well, I wanted to talk to you about that–”

“Great let's talk. You can’t keep coming to Hawkins.”

“I–“

“And hell, it’s not exactly like I would move here.”

Oh.

He wouldn’t do the same for you.

“Wayne’s only getting older, and Steve well he’s gonna move to Indy but it’s still close, and Robin will be there, and the kids when they come home. And I can’t just quit my job, you know I’ve got a good steady thing going, and of course you can’t so you know…where does that leave us?”

It leaves you with moving with Robin to Indianapolis. Saying fuck it to your job because you can always find another one. It leaves you with moving in with Eddie because he can find work and still be close to Wayne.

At least, you thought it did, but now…now you feel like a fool in love. Rushing into something unreciprocated, because it hadn’t even been a year, why would he be willing to move away from everything familiar for you?

“Right.”

He sighs, rubbing his face before standing up and walking over to you. “Sweetheart I just don’t see how this can work anymore.”

You try to swallow the dryness in your throat away, “Right.”

“I don’t know how to…” he shakes his head and looks to the door, “Should I go?”

“If you want to.”

“Fuck.” He rubs his face harshly, “I’m sorry. I’ll just go.” He starts to walk away, pivoting quickly to give you a barely there peck on your temple then walking straight out the door with a slam that makes you flinch.

You’re left standing there, shocked into immobility. That wasn’t how you thought that conversation was going to go, but maybe you should have prepared for that. This is what happens when you leave yourself vulnerable.

You wish he’d left a more lasting kiss where you could feel the imprint of it.

“I shouldn’t have left like that. I should’ve called you and properly talked. With you and not at you. I’m so sorry. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it.”

“That’s nice.”

“Sweet–“ he corrects himself and with a breath says your name instead, “I want to apologise.”

You shrug, eyes glazing over again. “It’s whatever Eddie. Maybe I should thank you for having the guts to rip the band-aid off. To say how you felt before–before I made an idiot of myself.”

He frowns, “What do you mean?”

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s just move on and have a good Christmas with everyone.”

Eddie’s shoulders deflate as you walk out of the kitchen.

Maybe his fuck up was truly irreparable this time.

***

Three days ‘til Christmas

The day after movie night had been a girl’s day. Ice skating with El and Max in the centre of town, a light dusting of snow catching on your tongues as you giggled and listened to them gush about their independent lives away from home and the ever-present homesickness this time of year, even when they were with their families. Nancy had met you all after, driving you to the mall for some last-minute Christmas shopping. You’d pulled Dustin’s name for Secret Santa this year and found him some albums on cassette you’d thought he like based on what Eddie had told you he’d enjoyed of his musical teachings.

You waited up for Robin later, who’d spent the day with Steve and Eddie.

The next day, there had been a gingerbread house making competition at the Byers residence. Joyce, her two sons, El, Hopper, Robin, Mike and Steve were all there fighting over the best candy decorations and cheering over the collapse of each other’s creations. The rest were with Eddie at the mall.

Nobody had mentioned it explicitly, but it was clear that everyone was working around the issue of you and the boisterous metalhead by taking it in turns and whispering about who’d be where when. And so it was, that most of your week in Hawkins had gone by without seeing Eddie, except for the run-ins at the Hideout and the grocery store and the awkward conversation at movie night.

You were worried you were bringing the mood down. You’d tried to be comfortable around him for everyone else’s sake, but you mustn’t have been hiding your emotions very well.

So, you’d excused yourself from today’s activities – Christmas tree chopping and decorating at Steve and Eddie’s apartment – feigning a scratchy throat and headache that could only be cured by staying in and resting.

You’d actually ended up leaving the house to find the cute bookstore in town in search of something to keep you company. You’d browsed for over an hour, the comforting smell of the fresh pages of paper, the occasional jingle of the bell above the door as shoppers flowed through the store and the quiet hum of Christmas songs from the radio on the counter all enveloping you in this space of temporary peace.

By the time you leave the store, paper bag weighing one arm down as you button up your coat again, the snow that had been threatening to fall for days had well and truly blanketed the town.

“Oh.” Your voice is carried off in the wind, with the snow that’s falling down sideways. The streets are significantly quieter, the sky darker and the pavements covered.

You’d walked into town from the Buckley’s. It wasn’t particularly far but it seemed like miles in these conditions. You turn around, briefly considering calling someone from inside the store, when the shop owner flips over the sign to closed. Giving you an oblivious wave and smile which you return.

Walking it is then.

***

“I’m an idiot for thinking I could just cut and run. I hate not being able to talk to her. She’s angry, and she deserves to be, but she won’t even let me see that. I just want her to talk to me, be angry at me, yell at me. She’s not her when she’s around me anymore and it kills me. I just–I just want…I don’t know.”

Steve munches on popcorn from the bowl in front of him, while he waits for the fresh batch to stop popping in the microwave. Eddie is holding a bowl of cranberries, slumped against the kitchen table, laughter spilling through from the other room.

“Sounds like you want her back.”

“Not just that,” he shakes his head, “I still think she deserves better I just wish we could still be in each other’s lives.”

Steve crosses his arms, truly ugly Christmas sweater bunched up by his elbows. “What do you mean she deserves better?”

“I couldn’t be there for her most the time. Our relationship was over the phone, I couldn’t hold her back anymore. I spent half my life dreaming of leaving this stupid town and now I’m too chicken shit to do it. She should be with someone in her league you know. At least someone who lives in the same damn city.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Steve waves his hand around. “Are you telling me you broke up with her because of the distance?”

Eddie looks at him and shrugs, “Yeah. You knew that.”

“No, I didn’t. Anytime I tried to talk to you about it you just kept saying it didn’t work out.” He imitates a deeper, grumpy voice.

Eddie rolls his eyes, “Whatever, man. What difference does it make?”

Steve scoffs, “Indy’s like an hour and a half away, you couldn’t just hang on ‘til she moved?”

“She…what? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Eddie!” Robin rushes into the kitchen, causing him to straighten up with the look of panic on her face. “You need to find her.”

***

Cold. Cold. Cold.

Never has anybody been this cold in the history of life itself. Cold doesn’t even begin to touch what you’re currently feeling – or not feeling, like your fingers. How long does it take to get frostbite?

You thought you were closer to the Buckley’s, but now all the snow-covered suburban houses looked the same. It didn’t help that all you could think about was the cold! Practically wading through the thick snow as it continued to pelt you side on, your feet burning with blisters or chilblains, you weren’t sure.

Cold. Cold. Cold.

The tyres slip a little as Eddie pulls quickly to the side of the road, easily being able to make out your form despite the blizzard-like conditions camouflaging everything. You were wearing that pink beret you looked adorable in.

He leaves the engine running as he jumps out, almost slipping on a patch of ice when he grabs you by the arms. He has to yell over the wind, your body trembling underneath his gloved hands, not even able to speak.

Eddie gently maneuvers you back to the van, helping you up into the passenger seat. He blasts the heat even more once he’s behind the steering wheel, reaching behind him and procuring a blanket which he tucks around you, rubbing your arms for good measure.

“Just sit tight sweetheart, I’ll get you home.”

He peels off slowly from the curb, wipers screeching in complaint against the window as he struggles with visibility.  

“It’s l-like we’re d-d-destined to repeat this scene ovver again. You evver see the movie g-groundhog day?”

His head snaps to you and he smiles, happy to hear your voice.

“I’ll always be there to find you in the snow.”

“It’s probably best I just stop coming all together.” You’ve thawed enough to stop chattering now, shifting to tuck yourself further into the blanket.

He frowns, “Don’t say that. Everyone wants you here.”

“I’m just making it harder for you to be with your friends.”

He shakes his head, eyes flicking between you and the road. “That’s not true.”

“Then why is everyone trying to keep us apart?”

“I think they were just trying to help you feel comfortable sweetheart.”

“Wouldn’t you rather I wasn’t here?”

Eddie looks at you in disbelief, before the van lurches and his attention pulls back in front of him.

“Shit, shit, shit.” The engine stutters as he rolls to the side of the road and cranks the handbrake.

“What’s going on?”

He sighs, “We’re out of gas.”

“What?!” You lean over the middle, peering at the dashboard and the blinking red light. “How can you be out of gas?”

“Because I was supposed to fill up the next time I went out and I’ve been driving around looking for you!” You shrink back into your seat. “Sorry, it’s not your fault.”

“I know it isn’t. What grown man leaves it until the light comes on.” A smirk pulls at his lips which grows even wider when he catches you mirroring him.

“This idiot.” He points two thumbs at himself.

“Should we find a payphone to call a tow truck?” You peer out the window, unable to make out much of your surroundings.

Eddie groans and hits his head repeatedly on the steering wheel.

“What?”

“I’m the one on call tonight,” he mumbles.

“Oh. You probably should’ve just brought the truck then.”

“Yep,” he leans back in the seat, rolling his head to look at you. “I wasn’t really thinking things through. You scared me, sweetheart.”

“Sorry,” you whisper, and he offers you a small smile. “How did you know I was out here anyway?”

“Robin called her parent’s house to check in on you. Her dad said you’d gone out for a walk, but you hadn’t come back since the snow started.”

“Right. Thank you for finding me.”

He shrugs, “Like I said. I always will.”

You watch each other for a moment and Eddie’s eyes drop to your lips making a shiver run through your body.

It breaks him from his trance, “Sweetheart, we need to stay warm.” He looks over his shoulder at the back of the van, unbuckling his seatbelt and squeezing between the gap in seats. “C’mon.”

You follow him unquestioningly and he helps you with a hand on your arm. He notices the look on your face when he brings out another blanket and some pillows from a picnic basket among a small mess of boxes and junk he’d thrown back here without thought.

“They’re still in here from that time we went to Lover’s Lake. Haven’t used them since, obviously.” You offer a nod, taking the pillows and arranging them next to each other. Eddie throws the other blanket over the both of you, “Uh, we’re gonna have to get kind of close to–to stay warm.”

“Okay.”

He opens an arm out, waiting for you to slot in and pulling you both down to the floor. You breathe in his scent, a musky cigarette and peppermint enveloping you. Pure, Eddie. You’re both quiet for a while, the steady drum of his heartbeat against your ear. He sighs, and his breath shifts your hair a little, followed by his hand when he notices something.

“You’re wearing the earrings.” His hushed voice vibrating in your head makes you close your eyes.

“I love them,” you whisper back. “They make me feel a little less alone, which doesn’t make sense I know.” You feel Eddie’s lips press against your hair.

“I’m sorry sweet girl. I made a huge mistake.” Your arms squeeze him tighter, and his hand strokes the side of your face.

Eddie begins humming a tune, featherlight at first but the vibrations from his chest warm you up further.

“It was Christmas Eve, babe

In the drunk tank

An old man said to me, “Won’t see another one”

And then he sang a song

“The Rare Old Mountain Dew”

I turned my face away

And dreamed about you”

“Don’t make me sing the duet. You know I can’t sing.” You feel his smile against the side of your head.

“Then just whisper it back.”

You sigh, “You were handsome.”

“You were pretty, Queen of New York City. When the band finished playing, they howled out for more.”

After a while Steve eventually found you. Pulling up in his new truck and bursting the bubble with a loud honk. He took you both back to the apartment where everyone fussed over you, bringing hot chocolate and a hot water bottle as they finished off decorating the tree. After Eddie placed the star on top, he led you to his bedroom to find dry clothes.

You turned his gaze back to you when you undressed, kissing him once he helped you into one of his t-shirts; his Slayer one he so loved to see you in. You swayed back and forth for a moment before returning to the mayhem, the snow still falling heavily outside the window.

“Merry Christmas, sweet girl.”

He kissed your eyelids.

“Merry Christmas, Eddie.”

***

Christmas Eve

You’d actually fallen ill after that night, the snow-soaked clothes and below zero conditions culminating in a cough and a sore body. Eddie kept you in his bed and brought you cups of tea and soup.

Steve filled in for him when he went to tow his own van, and you threw a pillow at him when he said, “Aren’t you glad we dragged you down here now?”

By Christmas Eve you were feeling a little better, able to join in on the Secret Santa shenanigans, tucked under Eddie’s arm on the sofa. Dustin loved his tapes and gave you an awkward pat on the knee in lieu of a hug that could transfer germs. “I can’t afford the time off from school!”

You’re watching everyone’s interactions with each other, showing off presents, sharing stories, when Eddie untucks a red envelope from his back pocket.

“Merry Christmas.”

You beam at him, opening the card. Something falls into your lap. You pick up newspaper clippings with a confused furrow of your brow Eddie wants to kiss away.

They’re listings, for apartments in Indianapolis.

“Thought I’d beat Steve and Robin and steal you for myself. What do you think, roomie?”

You kiss him in response, leaning away when neither of you can keep your smiles from growing.

“Oh, I left your gifts at Robin’s.”

Eddie tilts his head, “You got me something?”

“Just some things I came across and put aside throughout the year. A couple of records, and this book I think you’ll like, and a new notebook ‘cause you’re always losing pages out of that black one.”

“You brought them with you?”

You shrug, “Yeah, well I figured I could just leave it under your tree and you’d think someone else got them.”

“I’d know it was you.” He smiles.

“Probably.”

He presses a kiss to your jaw, a bright flash distracting you behind your eyelids.

“Got ya.” Robin snatches the Polaroid from the camera’s slit, shaking it a couple of times before handing it to you with a wink.

It’s the perfect moment of contentment. Sharing a blanket on the sofa, eyes closed in peace, framed by the Christmas lights hanging on the wall.

It’s the first photo to be pinned on your fridge in your shared home.

Tagging: @bettyfrommars, @storiesbyrhi, @allthingsjoeq, and from last year @eddieslooneymoonie, @micheledawn1975 and @skrzydlak just in case x

[sleepyparalysisdmon]

SVT doing your makeup

Requested? Yes!

Request: ‘i love all your svt reactions!! could i request a fun one where svt gets asked to put makeup on their partner? who do you think would take it seriously and do extremely well? who wouldnt even know what half of the items are? i think the members would also find it fun to do hahahah’

Cannot help but do badly - Seungcheol, Jun, Woozi, Vernon

He really does his best when you ask, but he would prefer not to wear much for himself, so he’s not particularly skilled. You can tell that he’s not happy with anything that he does because he’s grimacing, particularly when he gets to the eye makeup, where the finer details matter. But he’d never turn down the opportunity to do something with you, even if he’s totally deflated when he’s done. He’ll sigh deeply and apologize while handing you the mirror. It’s… not great. But it’s cute that he tried. He can’t wait to help you clean it off, though, ready with the makeup remover and face wash. 

Purposefully makes you look like a clown - Jeonghan, DK, Chan

You feel like things are going well until he spends way too much time on the blush. Then you get a glimpse of the colors that he uses on your eyes, and you kind of wonder why you even have them because they don’t compliment you in the least. He’ll slyly grin when he announces that he’s done, presenting you with a mirror. Will absolutely snap a picture before you can stop him, giving you a big smooch on your lips that are painted in a color that does not work for you. When you glare and tell him you regret asking for this, he’ll relent, helping you clean it all off. I’m so sorry; he’ll never delete that picture. He has backups of it. 

Really tries and does decently - Hoshi, Wonwoo, Seungkwan

The epitome of focus. Picture them being inches from your face for the little details, tongue poking out in concentration. Then, he’ll pull back to look at his work and go back to perfect it. He gets the concept of all of the products and figures out how to use them relatively quickly. Does a little bit at a time to not overdo it. He agreed to this because he likes being close to you and spending time with you. But if you look pleasantly surprised by how great he did, he’ll scoff and say that he can’t believe you doubted him. 

Better at it than you could ever be - Joshua, Mingyu, Minghao

Are you kidding? You don’t do your own makeup half the time, anyway. If you grumble about doing it when you guys are getting ready to go out, he’ll sit you on the counter and do it for you from start to finish. If your eye makeup isn’t blending just right or your eyeliner is uneven, he simply takes the brush or the pen from you to help you with it. He does it with such a quick and careful precision that puts your own skills to shame. And throughout the day, if he notices something is smudged, he’ll delicately fix it for you. (As someone who loves the look of makeup but hates putting it on, this would be a dream.)

[sir-fenris]

Aw, thanks for tagging me @floral-comet-whump and @paingoes 🌟

(I'm a big fan of saying all you need and want to, so forgive me for the big comments)

@paingoes thank you for always indulging my analysis of your works, taking the time to answer them all so thoroughly, just as you answer asks in such a detailed and considerate manner. Your story is amazing and has a permanent place in my headspace. Also, thanks for reposting my arts, I know many people just met my works because of that exposure <3.

@floral-comet-whump thank you for letting me use your prompts! I still didn't use all of the ones I saved because the end of the year is a busy time, but your prompts are really good and perfect for the writing training I am putting myself through. Also, thank you for interacting so frequently with my posts; it puts a smile on my face every time I get the notifs and I really appreciate it <3.

@friendlylocalwhumper , @just-horrible-things and @whump-sprite , thank you for writing your stories, it was my first big universe in whump reading, and I really had a long, thrilling fun with all of it. It was the first time I had to create a tag for a universe/work specifically because I reblogged too many stories of it XD. Hope you always find happiness in writing more, your works are truly amazing <3.

On that note, @whumpitisthen thank you for your story too! I usually can't sit through long writings, especially not very descriptive ones, but your story was simply too good not to read until the end XD. Thank you for being my starting point for meeting so many blogs too, my early phase of finding whump blogs pretty much started with yours <3

@teine-mallaichte , thank you for answering my ask game and for interacting with my posts, I am still reading your works, but they're awesome <3

@thewhumpcaretaker , @melpomenelamusa , @cepheusgalaxy , @bilightningwhumper , @inhurtandincomfort and @doumidas-whumps thank you guys for interacting with so many of my posts <3 I see and really appreciate it :D

Gosh, I thanked a lot of people, right? Well. One more won't hurt :). Thank you to everyone who has ever interacted with any of my posts and sees this. All the interactions I've gotten on my posts (comments, reblogs, silent reblogs, likes, and so on) make me giggle like a teenager with happiness. Putting my work into the world and receiving even the smallest response from someone who enjoyed it will never lose its sparkle of joy :D <3.

-

Saw someone do this. Thought it would be fun!

End of year important people list (whump community edition!)

Reblog and tag all of your favorite whump creators, friends in the whump community, anyone in the whump community really, and let them know how much you care about them!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

How do you feel about aromantic idia

As a headcanon? I love (jokingly) bullying Idia for being a socially awkward and sexually repressed otaku, but personally I also like the idea of him being aromantic. He doesn't like attention focused on him and generally seems to prefer fictional characters (ie his waifus/j) to interacting with real people. However, I think it goes deeper than just that. There's many lines in his Suitor Suit card that hint at Idia being repulsed by romance (even if you remove the context of him being kidnapped and forced to wed a ghost):

"There's no reasoning with people who lose their minds over every little infatuation. Like, just keep your head down and focus on school!" (He prioritizes other things, such as school and dismisses things like crushes.)

"I could never swear my eternal love. There's no such thing, and I'm nothing if not honest." (Here, he denies the existence of "eternal love".)

"Love is just chemicals in your brain. And people call that fate? They're all nuts, if you ask me." (He describes the feeling of love in a cold, scientific manner when this isn't something most people would think that deeply about.)

"Don't leave me. Stay with me forever. ...Oof, these emo lines are killing me. I'm gonna steer clear of proposals for the rest of my life." (He makes fun of typical romantic lines and then outright states he doesn't ever want to propose to anyone.)

"Do whatever you want with me. Just get it over with!" (Idia conveys distress and wanting to quickly be done with the kiss/general romantic circumstances.)

"If you want to talk romance, I'm your guy. I'm familiar with all the popular fan ships in video games and manga. You might even call me an expert." (He diverts the topic of real-life romances to his hobbies; aromantics, contrary to popular belief, can still enjoy romantic media without being attracted to or having limited attraction to real people themselves.)

Beyond his Suitor Suit lines, Idia has expressed upset at romantic love being viewed differently than platonic love. In 6-76, during his post-OB flashback, Idia shows off Ortho to Styx researchers, who are appalled by what he has done. "Wait... You built your late brother?! But that's wrong, Mr. Shroud!" they tell him. To that, Idia says, "So it's romantic when a hero rescues his ladylove from the Underworld, but when I do the same for my brother it's wrong?" He's frustrated that the story about Hercules diving into the Underworld to save Megara is praised, but him going that same extreme distance to revive his loved one--an act of platonic love--is denounced.

Idia is also consistently a character that has been shown to enjoy optimization and efficiency. He doesn't like anything that overcomplicates what can easily be done or made easier by machines. For someone like him, who was raised in isolation and has to bear the guilt of potentially dooming a future partner to the Shroud family curse, I think he'd just say "fuck it" at some point and decide it's ultimately not worth that hassle. It could read like a justification for him if others ask why he never looked into finding a spouse, S/O, etc. Like he'd tell them it isn't worth his time or something to get them off his back.

Of course, this is just my personal headcanon and you're free to agree or disagree with me on it! (I support all you Idia yumes and shippers out there 😉) Let's remember that we're all here to have fun and to not take these things too seriously.

[enemiestolovershoe]

hey :) .. i‘m in desperate need for a very fluffy fic with chris and bsf!reader where reader went to the triplets house earlier that day and ever since she was off. she crashed on the couch and as chris went to the kitchen to get some pepsi he saw that the lights are still one and reader is still up. crying. he askes whats wrong (you make something up) and chris is comforting her in the end and they end up cuddling falling asleep on the couch. :) thank you so much

Shattered Trust

Christ Sturniolo x bsf!reader

Summary: After Y/N’s world shatters from betrayal, Chris offers her comfort and support, helping her navigate the painful path of healing and rediscovery.

Words: 5k

Warnings: Angst, Cheating, Emotional Hurt, Mild swearing, Crying, Emotional Distress, Betrayal

The glowing screen of your phone illuminated your tear-streaked face as you typed out a message. Your hands trembled, but you forced yourself to hit send:

Hey, Chris, are you busy?

It only took a few seconds for the reply to pop up.

Not at all. What’s up?

You hesitated, debating whether to tell him the truth or to brush it off as nothing. The thought of sitting in your room, replaying the betrayal over and over, was unbearable. You needed a distraction, somewhere to go, people to be with—people who felt safe.

Can I come over? you finally typed.

Chris’s reply came faster this time.

Of course. We were just about to pick a movie. You coming over for our movie night?

You blinked at the screen. You’d completely forgotten tonight was one of your monthly traditions with the triplets. Normally, the thought would’ve excited you, but now it just felt like a lifeline.

Yeah, movie night sounds good. Be there in 15.

Chris stood in the living room, holding his phone with a faint smile. "Y/N's coming over," he announced to Nick and Matt, who were sprawled across the couch, arguing about which movie to watch.

"Finally," Nick grinned, tossing a piece of popcorn at Matt. "I was about to call her myself. It’s her turn to pick the snacks anyway."

Matt raised an eyebrow. "You sure she doesn’t just want to escape from her crazy family? Remember that time she showed up because her mom and sister were having a screaming match over hair dye?"

Chris shrugged. "I don’t care why she’s coming. She asked, so she’s welcome."

As you drove through the quiet streets, your mind drifted back to the moment everything shattered.

Your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend, you corrected yourself—had always been charming, maybe too charming. You’d never questioned his late nights or the way he sometimes avoided your gaze when your sister was around. You’d trusted him completely.

But a week ago, you’d come home early from a canceled lunch with friends, only to find the two of them tangled up on the couch. The image was burned into your memory, along with the sound of their voices stumbling over excuses.

"Y/N, it’s not what it looks like," he’d said, his voice dripping with guilt.

"Seriously?" you’d spat, unable to even look at your sister. "How long has this been going on?"

Your sister had said nothing, just stood there, avoiding your eyes. That silence had hurt more than anything he could’ve said.

Pulling into the Sturniolos’ driveway, you wiped your eyes and practiced a smile in the mirror. The triplets didn’t know what had happened, and you weren’t ready to tell them. Tonight needed to be about something else, anything else.

Chris opened the door before you could even knock. "Hey, you made it!" he greeted, pulling you into a quick hug. "You okay?"

You nodded, forcing your practiced smile. "Yeah, just needed some company."

"Well, you’re in luck," Nick called from the couch, waving the remote. "We were about to watch something, but Matt refuses to watch anything fun. Save us."

"Hey!" Matt protested. "At least I pick movies with actual plots."

"Sure, if by 'plot,' you mean boring dialogue and depressing endings," Nick shot back.

Chris rolled his eyes. "Ignore them. You want something to drink? Snacks? Or just want to settle in and pick the movie?"

You hesitated, but the warmth of their familiar banter started to thaw the icy weight in your chest. "I’ll take snacks and the remote," you said with a weak laugh.

"Now that’s the Y/N we know," Chris said, his smile softening as he led you into the living room.

You flopped onto the couch with a sigh, curling into the corner as Nick and Matt argued over yet another movie choice.

"Okay, but why would we watch Inception right now? It’s like three hours long, and my brain’s not ready for all that," Nick said, waving his hands in exasperation.

"Because it’s a good movie," Matt shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Yeah, but good doesn’t mean fun, and I’m in the mood for fun," Nick retorted.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, your first real laugh in what felt like days. "How about The Hangover?" you suggested, cutting through their debate.

Three pairs of eyes turned to you.

"Classic choice," Chris said with an approving nod.

"Finally, someone with taste," Nick said, glaring at Matt.

Matt rolled his eyes. "Fine. At least it’s better than whatever Nick would’ve picked."

"Excuse me, my taste is immaculate," Nick replied, throwing a handful of popcorn in Matt’s direction.

Chris handed you the remote and stood. "I’ll grab some snacks. Pepsi okay?"

"Perfect," you said, your voice soft but grateful.

A few minutes later, Chris returned with a can of Pepsi and a small bowl of your favorite chocolate. He placed them on the table in front of you, giving you a brief, searching look.

"You good?" he asked quietly, his voice low enough that Nick and Matt wouldn’t hear.

You nodded quickly, not trusting your voice. "Thanks, Chris."

He didn’t push further, just gave you a small smile before sitting down next to you.

As the opening credits of The Hangover rolled, you settled into your corner of the couch. Nick had sprawled out on the floor with a blanket, Matt took the recliner, and Chris sat beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours.

The room quickly filled with laughter as the movie’s chaotic antics unfolded. For the first time in a week, you felt a little lighter, the ache in your chest dulled by the comfort of their company.

"Okay, but how does no one realize there’s a tiger in the bathroom until it’s too late?" Nick asked between bouts of laughter.

"Because they were all blacked out, genius," Matt replied, tossing a kernel of popcorn at him.

"Still. I would’ve noticed a tiger," Nick said with mock seriousness.

You smiled, shaking your head. "No, you wouldn’t. You’d be too busy freaking out over a missing tooth."

Chris chuckled beside you, his gaze lingering on your face. When you glanced over, he quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the screen.

It happened again a few minutes later during one of the movie’s funniest scenes. You caught Chris watching you out of the corner of your eye, his expression soft, almost worried.

"Chris," you whispered, leaning toward him slightly.

"Yeah?" He looked at you, his face unreadable.

"You don’t have to keep staring. I’m okay," you said, forcing a small smile.

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. "I wasn’t staring."

You raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, maybe a little," he admitted, his voice lowering. "I just… You seem different tonight."

Your stomach twisted at his words, but you quickly shook your head. "Just tired, that’s all."

Chris hesitated but nodded, letting it drop. "Well, if you need anything, just let me know," he said softly.

"Thanks, Chris," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

As the movie continued, you tried to focus on the humor, on the familiar warmth of being with the triplets. But Chris’s quiet concern lingered in the back of your mind, making you wonder if maybe—just maybe—he saw through the smile you were trying so hard to keep.

As the credits of The Hangover Part III rolled, Matt stretched with a dramatic yawn and stood up.

"Alright, I’m done," he announced, rubbing his eyes. "If I watch one more scene of Alan’s nonsense, I might lose my mind."

"You lost it a long time ago," Nick quipped, earning a glare from Matt.

"Whatever. I’m going to bed. Night, Y/N," Matt said with a small wave before disappearing down the hall.

Nick was quick to follow, gathering his blanket and pillow. "Yeah, I’m out too. Y/N, make sure Chris doesn’t make you watch some artsy indie movie if you guys stay up," he said with a wink.

"Goodnight, Nick," you replied with a soft laugh.

As their doors closed, Chris turned to you. "It’s pretty late," he said, glancing at the clock. "You sure you’re okay to drive? You could crash here if you want."

You hesitated, but the idea of going back home, back to the empty room where every corner reminded you of betrayal, was unbearable. "Are you sure? I don’t want to bother you guys."

"Y/N," Chris said firmly, his eyes meeting yours. "You could never bother us. Stay."

You nodded. "Okay. I’ll take the couch, then."

Chris got up and grabbed a blanket from the hallway closet. He draped it over you carefully, his hand lingering on the back of the couch for a moment. "If you need anything, just knock on my door, alright?"

"I will. Thanks, Chris," you said quietly.

"Goodnight," he murmured, his voice softer than usual.

"Goodnight."

As soon as he was gone, the silence of the room felt overwhelming. You curled up under the blanket, the warm fabric doing little to shield you from the cold ache in your chest.

You pulled out your phone, hoping for a distraction, but the sight of an unread message made your heart sink. It was from your sister.

Why are you ghosting me? We need to talk.

Your breath hitched as the words blurred on the screen. She had the nerve to text you, to act as though everything could be fixed with a conversation. Fresh tears welled up, and before you could stop them, they spilled over.

You pressed your hand to your mouth, trying to muffle the sound of your sobs. The last thing you wanted was for the triplets to hear. They didn’t know, and you weren’t sure you could bring yourself to tell them.

In his room, Chris lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Something about tonight wasn’t sitting right with him. You’d been quiet, more than usual. The message you sent earlier had been short, almost hesitant, and now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen or heard from you all week.

Chris frowned, running a hand through his hair. He hated seeing you like this—guarded, distant. It wasn’t like you to pull away, not from them.

He turned onto his side, closing his eyes and willing himself to sleep. But it was no use. His mind kept replaying little moments from the night—the way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes, the way you flinched when he asked if you were okay, the way you seemed to deflate the second Matt and Nick left the room.

Something was wrong. He didn’t know what, but he was sure of it.

Back in the living room, you wiped your face with the sleeve of your hoodie, but the tears kept coming. The betrayal, the pain, the gnawing guilt of not telling the triplets—it all felt like too much.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block it all out, but sleep wouldn’t come. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw your sister’s name on your screen, her message taunting you, demanding an answer you couldn’t give.

You wanted to tell Chris, Nick, and Matt everything. You wanted to spill it all, to let them comfort you like they always did. But the words felt trapped in your throat, too heavy to say out loud.

And besides, they were probably asleep by now.

What you didn’t know was that Chris wasn’t asleep. He was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, still thinking about you. And something told him he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t sleep tonight.

Chris tossed and turned in his bed, staring at the ceiling for what felt like the hundredth time that night. Sleep just wouldn’t come. His thoughts kept drifting back to you—your forced smiles, the way you’d seemed a little too quiet all night. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

With a sigh, he gave up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand, noting the time: 2:37 a.m.

"Great," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

He decided a Pepsi might help, so he padded quietly out of his room and into the kitchen, careful not to make too much noise. The kitchen and living room were joined, and he didn’t want to accidentally wake you.

As he opened the fridge, the faint sound of a muffled sob reached his ears. Chris froze, his hand hovering over the soda can.

He turned his head toward the couch, his brow furrowing. The room was dim, but he could see your figure curled under the blanket, your shoulders trembling.

"Y/N?" he called softly, stepping away from the fridge.

You stiffened, biting your lip to keep any more sounds from escaping. But it was too late—he’d already heard you.

Chris approached the couch slowly, his heart sinking at the sight of you trying to hide your tears. Without a word, he sat down beside you, the couch dipping slightly under his weight.

You turned your head away, wiping at your face furiously, but Chris wasn’t having it. Gently, he laid a hand on your head, his fingers threading through your hair in a soothing motion.

"Hey," he said softly. "What’s wrong, hm?"

"Nothing," you whispered, your voice cracking.

"Y/N," he said firmly, though his tone remained gentle. "Please. Tell me. We both know something’s hurting you. You can tell me anything, I promise."

You shook your head stubbornly, clutching the blanket tighter around yourself.

Chris sighed but didn’t pull away. "Okay," he said after a moment. "How about this? If you don’t want Matt or Nick to know, I won’t tell them. Whatever it is, it’ll stay between us. I swear."

You hesitated, his words making the weight on your chest feel just a little lighter. Taking a shaky breath, you sat up, letting the blanket fall to your lap. Chris stayed close, watching you carefully, his concern etched across his face.

Your eyes fixed on the ceiling as you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "Jason cheated."

Chris blinked, his jaw tightening. He opened his mouth to say something, but you held up a hand, stopping him.

"And it wasn’t just with anyone," you continued, your voice breaking. "It was with my sister."

The words hung in the air, heavy and raw. Chris stared at you, his eyes wide with shock, his mouth slightly open as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard.

You looked down at your lap, your fingers twisting in the blanket. The silence felt suffocating, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

Finally, Chris found his voice. "Y/N..." he started, but his words trailed off, as if he didn’t know where to begin.

Chris sat there for a moment, stunned into silence. His mind reeled at your words, trying to process the betrayal you’d just revealed. But as he looked at you—your trembling hands, the tears that streamed down your cheeks—his shock quickly gave way to something else: protectiveness.

Without hesitating, Chris moved closer, sliding an arm around your shoulders. His touch was warm and steady, grounding you even as your emotions threatened to spiral.

"Y/N," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t even know what to say… but I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve that. Not from him. And definitely not from her."

His words broke something loose inside you, and the tears came harder, pouring down your face and soaking the neckline of your shirt. You buried your face in your hands, your body trembling as you let out the sobs you’d been holding back for days.

"How could they do this to me, Chris?" you choked out between sobs. "My own sister… she knew everything—everything Jason and I had been through. And she still—" You couldn’t even finish the sentence.

Chris felt a sharp pang in his chest. Seeing you like this—completely broken—made his blood boil. He wanted to storm out, to confront Jason, to demand answers from your sister, but he knew none of that would help you right now. Right now, you needed him here.

"They’re both selfish," he said firmly, his voice steady despite the anger simmering beneath the surface. "They didn’t think about you at all, and that’s on them. That’s not your fault, Y/N."

You shook your head, tears still streaming. "But it feels like it is… I keep thinking, ‘What did I do wrong? Was I not enough?’"

Chris grabbed your hands, gently pulling them away from your face. "Hey, stop that. Don’t do that to yourself," he said, his tone more intense now. "Jason cheated because he’s an idiot who doesn’t know how to value someone amazing when he has them. And your sister…" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "She’s the one who betrayed you, not the other way around. You’re not to blame for any of this. Not even a little."

You tried to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. The weight of everything—the betrayal, the heartbreak, the shame—was too much.

Chris seemed to sense that. He didn’t say anything more, just pulled you into a hug, wrapping both arms around you tightly. Your head fell against his chest, and he rested his chin lightly on top of your hair.

"Just let it out," he murmured, stroking your back in soothing circles. "I’m right here. You don’t have to hold it in anymore."

The dam broke. You clung to him as if he were the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely, your tears soaking into his shirt. Chris didn’t flinch or pull away. If anything, he held you tighter, his hand continuing its steady rhythm on your back.

"It’s okay," he whispered, his voice soft but firm. "Cry as much as you need to. I’m not going anywhere."

And he didn’t. Chris stayed there, holding you like you were the most fragile and important thing in the world. Even as your sobs wracked your body, he remained calm, offering the kind of quiet strength you desperately needed.

Minutes passed, though it felt like time stood still. Slowly, your crying began to subside, your breaths becoming less ragged. But Chris didn’t let go, not until he was sure you were ready.

The warmth of Chris’s embrace began to steady your breathing, though your body still felt heavy with exhaustion. Slowly, you pulled away, your hands resting in your lap as you avoided his gaze. Chris leaned back slightly, giving you space, but his concern didn’t waver.

Your eyes were puffy and swollen from crying, your cheeks streaked with drying tears. Chris reached out, his thumb gently wiping a stray tear that lingered.

He gave you a small, reassuring smile. "Let’s try and get some sleep, okay?" he said softly, his voice warm and steady. "It’s been a lot tonight, but it’s going to get better. I promise."

You nodded wordlessly, lying back down on the couch and pulling the blanket up to your chin. The headache from crying so much throbbed behind your eyes, and you couldn’t deny how tired you felt.

As you settled in, you expected Chris to stand and head back to his room. But instead, he surprised you. Without saying a word, he shifted to lie down behind you, sliding in close and wrapping an arm protectively around your waist.

You stiffened for a moment, startled by the gesture. "Chris… you don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to," you protested, your voice soft and hesitant.

Chris’s hold didn’t falter. He rested his chin lightly against the top of your head and hushed you gently. "Shhh," he murmured. "I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. We’ll get through this together, okay? You don’t have to do this alone."

His words, spoken with such quiet determination, made your chest tighten. You felt tears prick at your eyes again, though this time they weren’t from sadness.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you, Chris." Your voice cracked slightly, but you meant every word.

He gave your waist a small squeeze. "Always," he said simply, his tone carrying a weight of sincerity that made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t in days.

The steady rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of his arm around you, and the comfort of knowing he wasn’t going to leave finally allowed your body to relax. The headache and emotional exhaustion took over, and before you knew it, your eyes fluttered shut.

Chris stayed awake a little longer, watching over you as your breathing evened out. He held you close, his heart breaking a little as he thought about everything you’d gone through. But more than anything, he was determined to be there for you, no matter what it took.

Finally, a small, tired smile crossed his lips as he rested his head against the pillow, letting sleep claim him too—right there with you in his arms.

The morning light crept through the blinds as Nick shuffled groggily into the living room, his eyes barely open. He stretched with a yawn, heading toward the fridge for something to drink. As he turned toward the couch, he froze mid-step.

At first, he blinked a few times, convinced he was still half-asleep. "What the…" he muttered, rubbing his eyes dramatically. The sight before him—Chris curled up behind you on the couch, his arm draped protectively around your waist—was not something he’d ever expected to see.

"Am I dreaming?" he asked aloud to no one in particular. After a moment of staring in disbelief, he turned and bolted down the hall.

"Matt!" Nick hissed, bursting into his brother’s room.

Matt groaned, burying his face in his pillow. "Nick, if this isn’t an emergency, I swear—"

"It is!" Nick interrupted, shaking Matt’s shoulder. "You need to see this. Like, right now."

Reluctantly, Matt sat up, his hair a mess and his expression sour. "This better be good," he grumbled, throwing the blanket off and following Nick back to the living room.

When he caught sight of the two of you on the couch, his annoyance vanished, replaced by wide-eyed surprise.

"Is that…" Matt started, leaning closer to get a better look.

"Yup," Nick whispered, his tone somewhere between shocked and amused.

"Did he finally make a move?" Nick asked, tilting his head.

"I don’t know," Matt replied, scratching the back of his head. "But… doesn’t she have a boyfriend?"

Nick frowned, looking at Matt. "Yeah, she does. At least, I think she does. So… what’s this about?"

Matt shrugged, his brow furrowed. "No clue. But they look pretty cozy."

Nick pulled out his phone, biting his lip to keep from laughing. "Should we ask them? Or should I just take a picture for evidence?"

"Definitely a picture," Matt said, smirking.

Nick nodded, holding his phone up and aiming the camera. Just as he was about to snap the shot, his fingers fumbled, and the phone slipped from his hand.

The loud clatter of the phone hitting the floor echoed through the room, and both you and Chris stirred.

Chris blinked awake first, squinting against the light and taking a second to register what was happening. He glanced down at you still in his arms, then up at Nick and Matt, who were both frozen like deer in headlights.

You woke up a second later, groggy and disoriented. "What’s going on?" you mumbled, sitting up slightly and noticing Chris’s arm still loosely around you.

Nick recovered first, quickly scooping up his phone. "Uh, nothing! Morning! Just… you know… didn’t mean to wake you guys!"

Matt, however, wasn’t as subtle. "So… are we gonna talk about this, or…?" He gestured between the two of you, his brows raised.

Chris rubbed his face, clearly trying to think of a way to explain. "It’s not what it looks like—"

Matt snorted. "Really? ‘Cause it looks like you two were cuddling all night."

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "Can we not do this right now?"

Nick crossed his arms, a mischievous grin creeping onto his face. "Oh, we’re definitely doing this right now."

Chris’s body stiffened as he quickly sat up, his expression suddenly serious. His protective instincts kicked in, and he shot a sharp look at Nick, his voice firm. "No, Nick. Seriously. Drop it. It’s not the time."

Nick froze, blinking in confusion at the sudden change in Chris’s tone. He wasn’t used to hearing his brother so... intense. But before he could ask anything more, his gaze shifted to you.

You had your face hidden in your hands, your shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. That’s when it hit Nick. It wasn’t just a casual morning moment between friends. Something was wrong.

Matt’s playful smirk faltered, and his eyes softened as he noticed the tears trailing down your face. His teasing nature immediately gave way to concern. "Y/N…?" he began, but Chris cut him off before either of them could say anything else.

"Look, this is serious," Chris said, his voice still low and full of emotion. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself as he turned toward Nick and Matt. "You guys don’t know what happened."

Nick looked at him, unsure. "What happened?" he asked, his voice quieter now, sensing the weight behind his brother’s words.

Chris glanced over at you, his heart breaking as he saw how upset you were. He didn’t want to push you, but he also knew you needed support. "Y/N gave me permission to tell you guys," he said softly, then turned to face Matt and Nick fully. "Jason—her boyfriend—cheated on her. With her sister."

The words hit like a punch to the gut. Matt and Nick both looked at each other in stunned silence, their eyes wide with disbelief.

"Wait, what?" Nick whispered, shaking his head in confusion. "He… cheated on her with her sister?"

Chris nodded, his jaw tight with anger. "Yeah. And I know she’s been trying to keep it together, but it’s been eating her up. She didn’t deserve any of this." His voice cracked slightly, the weight of what you were going through becoming even more apparent as he spoke.

You wiped at your eyes, feeling the sting of their stares but too drained to care. Chris’s hand remained on your back, offering what little comfort he could, but you could tell this was a lot for Matt and Nick to process.

Matt was the first to speak up again, his face hardening. "That’s messed up," he muttered, clearly frustrated. "She doesn’t deserve that." He glanced at you, his expression softening. "Y/N, I’m sorry."

Nick nodded in agreement, though his voice was still filled with disbelief. "I… I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell us sooner?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

You sniffed and looked up, finally meeting their eyes. "I didn’t know how to. It hurt too much. I didn’t want to drag anyone into it." Your voice trembled, but you tried to hold it together. "I just needed some time to figure out what to do."

Chris gave your back another reassuring rub, silently telling you it was okay to let them in. He looked up at Matt and Nick, a heavy sigh escaping him. "She needs our support right now, not questions. So please… just… give her space if she wants it."

Matt nodded solemnly, his usual teasing nature now completely gone. "Yeah, of course," he said, his voice softer than before. "You’ve got it, Y/N. Whatever you need."

Nick hesitated for a moment, then gave you a small, almost apologetic smile. "We’re here for you. You don’t have to go through this alone."

You nodded weakly, still feeling the sting of everything that had happened. But for the first time in what felt like days, you felt a small flicker of hope. With Chris, Matt, and Nick by your side, maybe things would start to get better.

Chris’s arm tightened around you once more, offering the quiet comfort of knowing that, for now, you weren’t alone in this.

The room fell into a quiet calm, the weight of the conversation lingering in the air. Matt and Nick gave you the space you needed, no longer pressing you with questions. Instead, they offered small, reassuring smiles, letting you know they were there—ready to support you however you needed.

Chris, still sitting close beside you, rubbed your back comfortingly, his presence a silent promise that he wouldn’t leave your side. The warmth of his touch brought a small, but much-needed sense of peace.

After a few moments of silence, you took a shaky breath and finally looked up at Chris. "I don’t know what to do… or where to go from here," you admitted, your voice still thick with emotion.

Chris met your gaze with understanding in his eyes. "You don’t have to have all the answers right now," he said gently. "We’ll figure it out together. One step at a time."

You nodded, feeling the truth of his words sink in. Maybe you didn’t have the answers yet, but you weren’t alone. With Chris, Matt, and Nick by your side, you knew you had the support to get through this.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice breaking again, but this time with gratitude.

Chris smiled softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Always, Y/N. You’ll never have to go through this alone."

As the day began to unfold, you and the triplets spent the rest of the morning together. No more talk of Jason or your sister—just the comfort of knowing you were surrounded by people who cared. Slowly, the pieces of your heart that had shattered started to heal, one moment, one breath at a time.

And for the first time in a while, you felt a spark of hope for the future, knowing that with time and support, you’d find your way through the pain.

[fluentmoviequoter]

The Best Present

hot cocoa bar celebration🧤❄️🎄

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!(implied cop)!reader

Summary: You want to ask Tim to be your date to a Christmas party, but he's going with another woman. When you're caught under the mistletoe together, you give Tim more than a present.

Warnings/Word Count: fluff, brief angst. 1.2k+ words

“Tim!” you call as you exit the locker room. When he stops and turns toward you, you smile and ask, “Can we talk?”

Tim begins to nod but is interrupted by Angela reminding everyone of the Evers-Lopez Christmas party tonight. As she tells the surrounding officers about the gift exchange, food, and fun she and Wesley have planned, your eyes stray to Tim. It has taken over a week to convince yourself it isn’t a terrible idea, and now you’re ready to ask Tim to go with you to the party. Your fingers tap nervously against your hip, though you’re oblivious to Tim’s repeated glances at you.

“Who’s bringing a date?” Angela inquires. “I need to make sure we have enough food.”

“And mistletoe?” Nyla guesses.

“I don’t even know what that is,” Angela deflects. “Dates? Timothy?”

“Yeah, I’m bringing someone,” Tim answers.

Angela’s jaw drops as you and everyone else swing your head to look wide-eyed at him. She had been kidding when she called him out specifically and certainly didn’t expect him to say he had a date. Tim says her name and where they met, but you can’t hear anything over your heart pounding and a week’s worth of doubts swirling.

“You said you wanted to talk?” Tim remembers as the surprise diminishes and people begin leaving the station.

“Yeah…” you answer. “It can wait, though. Enjoy your date.”

You could’ve still asked him or told him the truth of what you wanted to talk about, but it’s easier this way. You’ll be at the same party. Tim with his date and you with what’s left of your Christmas cheer and a heart crushed like peppermint.

Tucked into a corner with one of Lucy’s Christmas cookies, you watch the party from a safe distance. Tim’s date is gorgeous, as you expected, and you fight to keep your attention away from them.

“Hey,” Lucy greets as she approaches your safe haven. You send her a close-lipped smile, and she lays her hand on your shoulder. “What’s up?”

“Nothing worth talking about,” you say. “These cookies are amazing by the way. Peppery ginger snaps, who knew?”

“My aunt. But, seriously, if you decide you want to talk, you know where to find me.”

“I do. Go enjoy the party.”

“As long as you do, too. I’m getting your gift during Dirty Santa and if Tim even thinks about stealing it, I’ll tell Angela about his bad attitude last week.”

“I think I’d like to see that.”

Lucy sends you a heart with her hands, and you finish the last bite of your cookie. Walking through Angela’s house to either get another or throw away your plate (you’ll decide when you get there), you keep your eyes down until your shoulder bumps into someone.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, looking up.

“You’re on a mission,” Tim muses. “There’s no more cookies, but if you’re nice to Nyla, she might tell you where she’s hiding them.”

“I could just get something else,” you murmur, thinking it would be easier to get someone else, but you want Tim.

“Uh, guys?” Nolan interrupts. “You’re under the mistletoe.”

Tim tips his head back and spots the green leaves hanging sneakily above a doorframe. You shake your head at Nolan, but he waves Angela over despite your protests.

“It’s tradition!” she argues. “You have to!”

“Yes!” Lucy agrees when she realizes where you are. “Kiss!”

Several of your friends cheer, and you shake your head again.

“Don’t be such a Scrooge!” Lucy tells Tim.

“I knew you were going to say that,” Tim complains.

“Tim, you’re here with a date,” you remind him softly.

Tim clicks his tongue, then raises his hands to the sides of your neck and jaw. “We have no choice,” he points out.

You let your eyes flutter shut as you lean in and kiss Tim. The noise of the party fades as you grip Tim’s waist and move with him. When Tim pulls back, you notice that the crowd beside you has dissipated.

“Where’s, uh…” you begin.

“My date?” Tim guesses with a barely contained smile.

“Yeah.”

“She left ten minutes in, decided this wasn’t her scene – her words.”

“How is a Christmas party not someone’s scene?”

Tim shrugs, and you apologize for his bad date.

“It worked out,” Tim replies.

“Gift time!” Angela yells from the living room.

You find a place on a small loveseat by Tim and watch as the white elephant gift exchange begins. After the moment beneath the mistletoe, a feeling of magic lingers within you. You must tell Tim about your feelings for this to go beyond Christmas.

“Don’t get attached to that,” Nolan says as Wesley opens an expensive tool set.

Laying your head on Tim’s shoulder, you don’t feel him freeze beneath you. He watches you laugh with his friends, content in an environment – his environment – when his date couldn’t even tolerate walking past the cookie table. As Tim relaxes, welcoming you into his space, and feels the same warmness he had while kissing you, he unknowingly gives you his heart. You give him yours in return, and it’s the best gift exchange you’ve ever participated in.

Lucy opens your gift and squeals before tucking it under her sweater.

“I’m stealing that, so make it a little easier to get to,” Tim warns her.

“No!” Lucy exclaims. “Angela, Tim yelled at me last week.”

“She can’t save you now,” Tim tells Lucy. “I need that one.”

“Why?” Angela asks, raising her eyebrows as she glances toward you.

“You’re a detective, Lopez, figure it out.”

“Let me give you a ride home?” Tim asks in your ear.

You nod and accept his hand as you stand. After receiving hugs and gifts from a few friends, you follow Tim outside, and a soft white powder falls from above to greet you.

“Is that what I think it is?” Tim whispers.

Extending your hand, you catch some on your fingers and raise it to your nose. “Only if you think it’s powdered sugar.”

“Chen!” Tim barks. “What are you doing?”

“What?” Lucy asks from behind him. “Is that snow?”

“It’s close enough!” Nyla answers.

“Nyla?” you ask, stepping out into the powdered sugar snow. “Wade?!”

Tim follows you onto the walkway. His eyes widen when he sees his watch commander perched on the roof and spreading fake snow through a sieve.

“Act like I’m not here,” James adds, pouring more sugar into his shaker.

Nyla rolls her eyes and looks at Tim to demand, “Just kiss her again and put us out of our misery before New Year’s.”

You don’t have time to question her command before Tim pulls you in. The door clicks closed as you taste the powdered sugar on Tim’s lips, and you smile against him as the fine confectioner’s treat covers your clothing.

“I was going to ask you to come with me,” you admit, leaning your forehead against Tim’s as his arms wrap around your waist. “Like a date.”

“Raincheck for New Year’s Eve?” Tim suggests.

“Will it be like this?”

“I hope not.”

Nyla scoffs, but you kiss Tim in the makeshift winter wonderland rather than replying. You have been in love with Tim Bradford for longer than the duration of this party, but learning that he loves you too is a Christmas present that will never be topped.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

Along the Chimney with Care

Prompt Day 24: Stocking | Word Count: 550 | Rating: T | CW: None | Tags: Future Fic, Established Relationship, Learning New Skills, Teamwork Makes the Dream Work

"What are you doing?" Eddie asks, as he leans over Steve's shoulder as he sits at the dining room table. 

"Practicing," Steve answers, as he looks at the scrap of fabric in front of him at the sewing machine that he's dragged out of the deepest recesses of some closet.

"Practicing what?" Eddie asks, because it just looks like a bundle of tangled up threads.

Steve flips it over. 

It's a kind of badly done embroidered version of Eddie's name, but it makes him smile. It might not be anywhere near perfect, but he likes the effort Steve's clearly tried to make. Steve could have ordered them custom-made from somewhere else, or even gotten iron-on letters, but instead he's chosen to do it this way, for better or worse.

"What's this for?" Eddie asks, smiling.

"Stockings for Christmas. I mistakenly thought this looked easy. It is not easy," Steve says, and Eddie sits down.

"Let me help," Eddie offers, even if he has no idea what that will entail. But surely they can figure it out together. They've always been able to figure anything out, as long as they've done it together. Two heads are better than one, and all that shit.

Not to mention, Eddie can sew. In theory. By hand, for sure, and Wayne had an old machine Eddie used a few times while making vests and other shit. He's never made a stocking, but he's willing to try.

"It keeps tangling on the back," Steve laments, and Eddie slides the practice piece of fabric towards himself, so he can look at it more closely.

"Is there a manual?" Eddie asks, and Steve shakes his head. 

"Not that I've ever seen," Steve answers.

"Hmm," Eddie says. He understands the basics, maybe, but he's not sure he can do much by way of troubleshooting.

But he bets he knows who can.

"Joyce says to check the bobbin," Eddie says from the kitchen, holding onto the phone. 

"What's the bobbin?" Steve asks, standing up and looking at the top of the machine.

"What's the bobbin?" Eddie repeats.

Joyce laughs in his ear, "Oh, dear."

But she walks them through it. They take it out, rethread it through the machine, and then test it out.

It's better. It's definitely better.

"That fixed it!" Steve says, pumping his fist in the air, hollering, "Thanks, Joyce!"

"He says thanks," Eddie repeats to her over the line. 

She heard him. The whole block heard him.

Eddie sits on the couch and watches Steve hang the stockings along the chimney with care. They aren't perfect. Far from it. But they do have their names on them, and Steve made them. He also let Eddie sew patches on them, which makes them even more personal to each of them.

A joint effort. Eddie loves them in all their slightly wonky glory, and he hopes they use them for years to come. 

"Okay. They're Santa ready," Steve says, and Eddie grins. 

"I can't wait to see what Santa brings me," Eddie declares, rubbing his hands together in anticipation, and Steve just smiles like he has the biggest secret. 

"Coal, probably," Steve teases, and Eddie laughs, big and bright.

Steve's got something planned, something up his stocking, as it were, and Eddie can't wait to find out what.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun! 🧦

[zanazirafanfic]

What Charles Would Do To Micah

I sent @noshirdalal the following question on Cameo: "Since Charles was denied the chance to flatten Micah's face in the Epilogue, I would love to see him roast the hell out of the rat. Be as mean as you would like. (All in good fun, Micah is my favorite villain and I love Peter too.) Happy holidays!"

This was his response (transcript below the video.) Y'ALL. I was not ready for how amazing this was. Rather than roast Micah, he opted to burn him to a crisp and scatter the ashes. Very cathartic. It is very, very lucky for Micah that Charles wasn't up there on the summit beside John, because neither Micah nor Dutch would've even been able to open their mouths before it was just over.

PERFECT. Poignant. Believable as hell. As much as Charles cautions John against seeking vengeance on Micah, I don't think he'd reserve any of that same caution for himself. I think, like Sadie and Arthur, he considers himself more ghost than man. In another universe (where John didn't have to make a decision that would lead the Pinkertons to kidnap his family in RDR1) I can definitely see Charles and/or Sadie striking out on their own to take down Micah. John had more to lose, and Charles wouldn't (and didn't) want him risking himself when Arthur's dying wish had been to keep John and his family safe.

Thank you as always, Noshir. Your takes on these questions always exceed anything I'd imagined!

Transcript:

Zana, hey. You always ask interesting questions. "Since Charles never got to beat the crap out of Micah in the Epilogue, how would he roast him?"

I'll always be honest with you guys, so I think, uh... I'll just be as honest as I can be. If at any point in the Epilogue Charles encountered Micah, there would be no roast. There'd be no jokes, there'd be no games. He killed my best friend, and broke apart the only family I've ever had. And maybe that would've happened with or without his push, but he was definitely a big part of it.

I would hunt him. If he tried to go to ground, I would give him no ground to go to. If you're a friend of Micah's and you come to his aid, you are a dead man. If you have family, then at some point you walk off into the woods and disappear and your family never sees you again. But if you're a snake like Micah, well then the... The local sawbones probably rates that they died of fright, or from asphyxiation from the rat feces shoved in their mouths.

It would become known that Micah is hexed, that anyone near him for any period of time comes to a horrible end. And I would keep this up for a long time, until he has absolutely no one. And I would slowly guide him away from civilization and into the wilds.

I would liberate his horse, and then from there on in, he would never get a peaceful night's rest. His fires would always go out in the middle of the night. His food would spoil. He'd hear people at the edge of the campfire but find no one. And I would keep that up until he really started to break.

And then, I'd make myself known, carrying nothing but my bow, arrows, and my hatchet, and we'd play a game of cat and mouse, until he expends all his ammo. And then I would close on him, subdue him, but try not to hurt him. And I would take an arrow and push it between his ribs, and puncture his lung. 

And then I would let him go. And I'd give him bullets. I want him to run, and gasp, and drown on dry land, like my friend. And then I'd watch him waste his rounds trying to keep the wolves away, and let them tear him to pieces. And I'd let him see me watch.

That's what I would do to Micah Bell.

[thevegandarkelf]

Joshua "Scud" Frohmeyer NSFW Alphabet

A deal was made with @francisofthespook, and here's my part of the deal. She agreed to write Daryl's NSFW alphabet if I wrote Scud's, so here it is! Massive kudos to @dixons-sunshine for proofreading my work, as always, and to @francisofthespook for proofreading as well (I proofread yours, so it felt fair for you to proofread mine lol). I hope you enjoy it! To my general taglist people, I'm sorry if this isn't something you'd normally want to be tagged in. I figured I would just add y'all anyway lmao. This is hands down the filthiest thing I've ever written and I had to stop several times to fan myself.

Also these are MY OPINION. If you don't agree with something, that's fine, but please play nice.

NSFW alphabet template by @the-coldest-goodbye, dividers by @anitalenia

18+ below the cut, minors DNI

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He’s big into aftercare! The cleaning up, the cuddling, the pillow talk, he loves it all. I think it’s one of his favorite parts of sex. Basking in the afterglow all cozied up under the covers with you, your bodies tangled together…God, he lives for that shit. After your first time doing something new, he’d want to talk with you about how it was, how much you liked or didn’t like it, and if you’d wanna do said thing again.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

For his own, I wanna go with the obvious and say his dick, but I think (and hear me out) that his stomach would also be one of his favorites. He thinks his scars are cool and are proof that he survived something he probably shouldn’t have, and I think he loves that part of himself. For his partner, he’s a boob guy, easy. He doesn’t care what they look like or how big or small they are. They’re yours, and that’s all that matters to him. And if you have any insecurities about them, he’ll be sure to show you how much he loves them.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He loves to be inside you when he comes, whether that’s with a condom or without. He loves the faces and sounds you make when he’s twitching inside you, riding out his high. If you allowed him to come inside you without a condom, he’d be thrilled, but he’d still check in with you the whole time up until he comes to make sure that’s really what you want.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

This might seem like a cop-out, but he doesn’t have any dirty secrets. He doesn’t have any shame in what he likes in the bedroom, so there’s no secrets between you two. If he likes something or wants to try something, even if it’s something other people might find strange, he’s going to tell you/talk to you about it. If he expresses he’s into something and you’re not down to do it, he’s not going to feel ashamed for asking. Like I said, he has no shame in what he likes.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s very experienced & absolutely knows what he is doing. He prides himself on being able to make his partner feel good, and all the skills he’s acquired over the years will aid him in pleasing you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Cowgirl and doggystyle, both for different reasons. Cowgirl so he can watch you bounce on top of and fuck yourself on him. Especially when he’s high, he loves to lay there and just let you go to town again and again. Looking up at you through hazy, half-lidded eyes would make him crazy. Doggystyle (specifically facing a mirror) so he can watch you watch yourself take him. He’d lean over you and dirty talk into you ear, telling you to look at yourself in the mirror so you can see how beautiful you look taking him. Both positions are also great for him to be able to circle your clit.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Very humorous. He never takes himself too seriously, and that include in bed. Sex is supposed to be fun, and he definitely brings that. He needs someone that can joke around with him during sexy time. If he were to get more serious at any point, it would be when either of you are close to coming.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Yes, the carpet matches the drapes. He doesn’t care about grooming, though. He’s not bothered by body hair, both on himself or his partner. If you asked him to clean up a bit, he certainly would, but otherwise, he doesn’t care. He’s not unhygienic though, he just isn’t bothered by it enough to do anything about it. For you, though, he’d do anything.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

That depends on our little angel’s mood. Sometimes, he just wants to lay back and let you do the work, but he’d still praise you and tell you how good you’re making him feel. If he’s releasing some pent-up frustration, he’d still be soft with you, but he might not be as giggly or romantic as usual. For special occasions, like your birthday or anniversary, he’d really ramp up the romance, adding sensual touches like lighting candles and putting on music.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

This one feels obvious, but he thinks about you when he jacks off. Thinks about your taste, your scent, all of the sounds you made during your last sexual escapade. He drools a little when he comes, specifically when he comes from masturbating. He’s so deep in the thoughts of you while he’s touching himself that he can’t be bothered to make sure he isn’t drooling.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He loves having his hair played with/pulled. When he’s going down on you, he lives for having your fingers tangled in his hair and gently tugging while you buck up into him. He also loves to be praised (because who doesn’t?) (it would send his ego to the moon) and give praises as well, telling you how good you feel/how beautiful you look/how good you’re doing.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Somewhere where you’ll both be comfortable, like in bed or on the couch. But if it’s a quickie, he’d take you in the shower, over the kitchen counter, even the floor as long as you’re comfortable. He’d even take you over his work bench if it didn’t risk you two getting caught.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He gets easily turned on, especially when he’s in love. He loves seeing you in lingerie, and of course that turns him on, but he gets really turned on when you wear his clothes. Your bare breasts against the inside of his jacket, your core on the inside of his boxers, he loves it all. He’d have a hard time keeping himself together the next time he wore something of his that you had on, picturing you in it instead.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He’s turned off by anything non-consensual, he’d put his foot down at that. Even if it was something you wanted to try, he wouldn’t allow it. He’s into gentle biting and giving hickeys, but biting to the point of drawing blood is a no. Anything else that would cause either of you harm (something that would cause bruising that isn’t a hickey, leave welts, etc) is a no.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He loves both giving and receiving, but he prefers giving. He’s in heaven with your thighs clenched around his head and the taste of you coating his mouth and tongue. His skills are next level. When he’s high, his skills somehow get even better, bringing you to orgasm faster than you could’ve imagined.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Sex with him is for sure soft and giggly. He’s a goofy bean, and that personality of his certainly transitions into the bedroom. If you asked for something a little more rough, he’d obliged, albeit hesitantly at first, until he sees how much you’re enjoying it. However, that wouldn’t be often, as he prefers to be soft and slow and take his time with you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He prefers to take his time with you and savor every second. He may have a high drive and be DTF a lot of the time, but it’s still special because it’s with you. When there’s not time & you’re both so fucking desperate and needy for each other that you can’t wait, a quickie will suffice, but he’ll be longing for more. And he’d make sure the next session after the quickie was extra special.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Yes yes and yes. He’s willing to try just about anything, and if he isn’t, he’ll let you know. He won’t shame you for any ideas you bring up or anything you might be embarrassed about wanting to experiment with. He’d be flattered that you felt safe enough with him to ask to experiment in different ways.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Depends on the type of sex. If he’s high, he’d only be able to go for one round, wanting to cuddle up and fall asleep shortly after (post-aftercare ofc, I can’t stress enough how much he loves that). If he’s had a stressful day and/or it’s been a while since you two have been intimate, he’d be able to go a few rounds, wanting to stay in the throughs of pleasure with you for as long as possible.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He would certainly use toys on you if you asked. He prefers to do the work himself and get you off with just his touch, but he knows toys are friends, not competition. If you did the deed and he was too sleepy after to go another round but you wanted more, he’d lay there and watch you get yourself off with toys, watching your eyes roll back while he knows you’re thinking about him the whole time.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He loves to tease you until you’re a squirming mess & can’t take it anymore, whining & begging him to do what you’re asking. If you express that you like to be teased, he’d be delighted and draw out the teasing for as long as he possibly could until neither of you could take it anymore.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Our little stoner is definitely vocal in bed. He makes a variety of sexy grunts, groans, and moans, all of which sound like music to your ears. When there’s privacy, he’s loud. He doesn’t hold back at all in expressing how good you’re making him feel. If you’re ever in a situation where you might get caught or others are within earshot, he can hold back the noises, though he’d struggle to hold back the closer he gets to coming.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

This may be a hot take, but he is not a whimpering mess of a sub. A switch? Sure, I can see that. A whimpering mess that’s begging you and calling you mommy? Absolutely not, and that’s a hill I’m willing to die on.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s average-sized, maybe a little bigger than average. He’s an average-heigh guy, so it would make sense that his package reflects that. There’s a couple of veins that bulge when he’s got a boner, and they add to the pleasure you feel when he’s inside you. There’s also his scars. He loves when you give them attention, kicking and licking down them slowly as you position yourself to suck him off.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He’s got a high sex drive, especially when he’s in love. After the first time, he can’t get enough of you. Your scent, your taste, your touch…he dreams of it.  He’s so in love with you, he’d get distracted at work thinking about all the things you did the night before. And the second you’re both home, he’d be pouncing on you, ready to devour you again and again.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

That depends. If it was sleepier sex while he was high, he’d pass pretty shortly after (post-aftercare of course, once you were both snuggled up under some blankets). Otherwise, he’d want to stay awake and enjoy some pillow talk with you, admiring how beautiful you are post-orgasm and savor the moment of you two wrapped up under the covers.

General taglist: @raddydaddydude @lovenormandixon @angeldemoncrowley @negansbestie @holdmytesseract

GIF made by me

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[flwrkid14]

Omg for ur Jason Todd: Dad Mode Activated post, imagine how Jason would react if Tim gets injured during patrol or try to encourage Tim to take an interest in a few hobbies like cooking/ reading or what about how Jason helps Tim with some possible insecurities like a few neck scars

I absolutely love this ask!! I love adding and world-building for literally all of my posts!!!

I can totally picture Jason constantly carrying around a travel med kit for Tim, just in case something goes wrong. He’d try so hard not to go full helicopter-parent mode, but Tim’s always getting himself into trouble since he's so used to not having any kind of supervision!

As for the hobby thing, I think it would be fun if Jason pulled Tim into all sorts of random activities, not necessarily to get him into a hobby, but just to try things together!

Tim shows up at Jason’s safehouse one day, expecting a mission-related problem, only to find Jason sitting on the couch with a basket of colorful yarns and his laptop pulled up to a “Beginner’s Guide to Crocheting.” He'll say something casual like, “C’mon Timbo, Lian’s birthday’s in three months. Let’s see who can make the better stuffy.”

He'll pull Tim into the kitchen to teach him how to cook, or just be an extra pair of hands when he’s preparing something. He'll drag him to the library to pick out a book or just browse the shelves, sitting together while they read. He'll sign them up for a painting class or take Tim rock climbing after work, then convince him to join a cooking workshop where they make their own lunch (Jason only signs up because Tim refuses to go to any of these without him now).

But It’s Jason’s way of trying to teach Tim something new that he can implement into his personal life, without it feeling like a forced obligation. He makes sure to do these things with Tim, so it’s more about sharing the experience than pushing him into anything.

And as for the insecurities… wow, this could get heavy. I can totally imagine Jason slowly realizing that Tim’s insecure about his neck, not because Tim ever said anything, but because Jason’s been watching him more closely lately. He notices how Tim always covers his neck—wearing turtlenecks even in summer, buttoning up shirts all the way, hiding it as much as possible. That’s when it hits Jason: the scars are his. He’s the one who put them there. And suddenly, he feels this wave of guilt and nausea hit him. He doesn't push Tim to talk about it, though. Instead, Jason quietly apologizes. Deeply, mournfully, with a few tears in his eyes. He doesn't beg for forgiveness, but he reassures Tim that those scars don’t define him. They’re proof of how strong Tim is. That he’s endured so much and is still here. And Jason will make sure that no more scars ever mar Tim’s skin—at least, not while Jason’s around.

It doesn’t fix Tim’s insecurity overnight, but it’s a start. Tim might not feel strong all the time, but with Jason’s words in his head, he knows that the scars don’t make him any less of a badass. And as much as he still struggles, he knows Jason will always be there to take care of him, even when he doesn’t feel as strong as Jason makes him out to be.

Tim comes to the conclusion that Bruce and Jack will never come close to what Jason has become in his life.

[shashapato]

Nevermore High School AU

For @cerealman ‘s 🤫🤫🤫🤫…secret santa present…😱🤫😬

(Merry Christmas!!!! Hoping this will make your day!!!)

HIGH SCHOOL AU

Lenore is a huge chemistry lover. She and Duke would be neutralising acids and bases at the back of the classroom then betting a ridiculous amount of money that the other won’t drink it. (Pluto has just given up stopping them and just began quietly handing Duke whatever he needs while half-listening to the lecture half-trying to make sure his friends don’t die.)

The misfits (COUGH COUGH Lenore COUGH) have probably set a fire by accident while teasing each other. 🥰 They all got in trouble.

Berenice wants to see blood under the microscope, but uhhhh, no one wants her cutting herself (or someone else).

Eulalie refuses to do dissections. FROGS ARE FRIENDS.

Prospero and Annabel make the BEST notes and Ada is begging for them at the end of class. (Annie gives it, of course.)

Will takes notes for Monty, and when desperate, Ada asks (DEMANDS) for them. (Will says no. 🥰)

No, but Prospero would wash his hands maybe ten times when in the lab, whether it’s touching chemicals or organs or anything. (Germaphobia, yes. 😭)

Montresor is OBSESSED with dissections. He finds it super fascinating and of course, loves feeling mushy organs and blood on his hands. (When Prospero is paired with him, he forces Monty to wash his hands.)

Dodgeball when it’s boys vs girls, Lenore is protecting all the shy unathletic girls from getting hit, becoming a sort of ‘saviour’. All of them fall heads over heels for her. 😔

Berenice and Lenore are the power duo.

Duke and Pluto WISHES they could be half as good bruh.

Eulalie looks like she’s unathletic, but she is FAST.

Annabel insists she shouldn’t play dodgeball because her nails will get in the way. (She tosses a ball at Monty’s head later for being misogynistic about that.)

Ada in PE is WILD. She and Will are the most competitive unathletic goblins ever. While Will uses his thin stature to sneak around opponents, Ada straight up tackles him, using the excuse “Oh, but we’re playing football, aren’t we?” “Not American football, god’s sake!!!”

I’m sorry, but Monty playing football (idc which football) AHHHHHH. He and Will joined the school team together of course. (William Wilson only joined to be in the changing room with Monty.)

Morella is Ada’s personal shield, because Ada has ZERO awareness of her surroundings when she’s focused. Morella has to run and block balls from hitting her.

Annabel in English class writing ramblings about how much she loves Lenore, but plays it off as only ‘fiction’. (I’ve done that once, IT WORKS!!!)

Lenore takes French so she could communicate with Duke in secret. Pluto attempted to, but backed out after a few failed exams.

Pluto now takes Japanese and Eulalie is his tutor. 😔

Monty is the kind to refuse to learn any language other than English, because it’s the ‘superior language’. (He takes German lol, I can see him speaking German...but like he knows only random words and shouts them to feel smart.)

Ada sucks at foreign languages, but thinks she is fluent. She’s the student that yells out answers with the strangest accent. 😭

Ada and Monty are the couple that’s ALWAYS kissing, but they broke up like ten times then got back together so everyone’s just confused.

Annabel and Lenore pass notes in class and when asked to read it out, Lenore EATS THE PAPER.

Poor Will tries to make friends and always fail.

Duke and Pluto are the gayest ‘straight guys’. (People assume they’re straight, but… 👀)

Eulalie is the weird kid that when you get to know becomes your best friend.

Merry and Mourn are kind of the weird teachers. 😭 They give you detention for no reason and can be strict.

Anygays, thank you! :DDD This has been fun!!!

[dreamyelectronicmusic]

🎄 Hallmark Christmas Movie AU Part 4 - The End 🎄

(part 1) ❄️(part 2) ❄️(part 3)

Boris and Göran were looking forward to teasing Wille about not spending the night in his own bed, but when Wille gets back with red-rimmed eyes, they know this isn’t a time for jokes. Wille doesn’t even want to go see the play in the evening, but eventually they convince him to go since he worked so hard on the flats. Wille thinks it’s probably his last chance to hear Simon sing, so he agrees.

The play is a smashing success. Everyone loves Wille’s work and especially the changes he made. He’s very proud but it’s marred by how sad he is about Simon. He would hate for their last interaction ever to have been a fight, so he finds him after the show.

“I’m really sorry, Simon. I never meant to hurt you.”

“I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have snapped.”

“I just want you to know you’re the furthest possible thing from inconsequential. I’ll never forget you.”

Simon watches him with sad eyes. “I hope you have a nice Christmas.”

Wille won’t, but that’s beside the point.

“Thank you, Simon. You too.”

And that’s it. A sad ending to the best days of Wille’s life and it’s all his fault, but what can he do? A car is waiting to take him back to Stockholm. He has to go back to his real life.

Only the staff are there to welcome him when he gets back to the palace. His parents and brother are at some function that Wille was allowed to get out of, but that ends now. Official royal engagements are all his life is going to be. The hope of escape is too distant to be of any comfort. It’s almost worse than before, now that he knows how nice life can be. He can’t sleep, tossing and turning in bed. He thinks of Boris and Göran’s quiet domesticity, his conversations with Boris, the way he feels when he’s painting. And Simon. Simon, Simon, Simon.

He dreams of him, too. When he wakes up, he can’t believe he let his chance at happiness go without a fight. It suddenly seems obvious what he has to do if he ever wants to be happy and that he has to do it now, not at some indeterminate, uncertain point in the future that may never come.

He goes to see his mother.

“Why aren’t you getting ready?” she scolds.

“Because I’m not going,” Wille says firmly. He’s not going to the gala, he’s going back to Bjärstad. He’s finally learned what it feels like to be alive and he’s not letting that feeling go. He’s going to withdraw from royal work and relinquish his titles. Yes, he’s serious, and there’s nothing she can say that could sway him. They can discuss the details after the holidays, but his decision won’t change.

Then he walks out of her rooms, grabs his coat and goes to the garage to get his own car. He doesn’t drive often, not since Erik was in an accident that could have ended very badly, but the Queen could stop the royal drivers from taking him, and more importantly, he doesn’t want to arrive like a prince.

The roads are busy and it’s snowing heavily, so the journey takes twice as long as it normally would. It’s dark by the time he gets to Simon’s house, and Simon isn’t home. He must be at his mother’s place already. Wille doesn’t know where Linda lives and has to ask locals for directions. It’s a full-on snowstorm by then and the streets of Bjärstad haven’t been ploughed, so Wille leaves his car where it is and makes his way to the other side of the town on foot.

Linda’s living room is softly lit and full of Christmas decorations and plates of cookies. Simon and Sara are there, as well as Linda’s new husband and his children and Boris and Göran, who are there for end-of-movie reasons. The atmosphere is warm and cosy. The only one who isn’t joining in the fun is Simon, who’s struggling to take part in the conversation. When the doorbell rings, he welcomes the opportunity to get away for a minute and goes to open the door.

He doesn’t know what he expected, but it definitely wasn’t Wille, shivering and nearly covered in snow.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came back. I changed my mind.”

“What about the gala?”

“I’m not going. I’m not doing any of it anymore, Simon. I’m done. I just told my mum.”

Simon is stunned. “What did she say?”

Wille shrugs. “She’ll come around. I hope. But it doesn’t change anything if she doesn’t. I’m done.”

“Did… did you do it because of me? Because I didn’t mean to ask that of you, I don’t want to be the reason why you –”

But Wille is shaking his head vehemently. “No. I did it for my own sake. You were right. I don’t want to do this to myself anymore. I want to have a life I actually like. And I… I’d like you to be part of it. If you’ll have me.”

Simon’s heart is beating so hard he thinks Wille must be able to hear it. “What the hell do you think?”

Wille honestly has no idea, but he’s saved from any doubts by Simon throwing himself in his arms and crushing their mouths together. They kiss in the swirling snow, relieved and happy and so in love they barely feel the icy wind.

“Why are you letting the cold in?” Sara calls from the doorway. “You can do this inside!”

And so they do.