#on christmas eve too meant to be

[themusicalsky]

this game is wonderful

[boneless-mika]

Lowkey hoping for an absurd steam sale so I can get bg3 before Christmas

[scoonsalicious]

Like A Fairy Tale

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Dating Bucky Barnes had been like living a fairy tale, but as he distances himself from you and your relationship, you come to the realization that maybe fairy tales aren't meant to come true.

Warnings: Language to make Steve blush, mentions of alcohol use, implied sex, angst with a happy ending.

Word Count: 3.4k This is my very first posted fic, and I am very nervous but I hope you like it! If I've missed any warnings, please tell me so I can add them. Much love and thanks to my bestie @jmeelee for indulging my obsession and dropping everything to read this when I sent it to her <3 Please pardon any spelling/grammar errors.

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3 I write for 18+, so minors DNI. _____________________________________________________________

Once upon a time, being Bucky Barnes’ girl had felt like living in a fairy tale. He was everything your younger self had ever dared to dream of in a Prince Charming– attentive, affectionate, kind, and oh, how he made you laugh! You were the envy of all of your friends, the very definition of #couplegoals, and you thanked your lucky stars every night that the two of you had found one another, despite all the odds.

But fairy tales aren’t real. 

You weren’t sure exactly when it started, but somewhere in the third year of your relationship, after you’d moved into a handsome brownstone in Brooklyn together, after you’d adopted a fluffy white kitten, Bucky started pulling away from you. The steps that took him from you were small at first– he was taking on more and more missions, opting to stay gone for longer periods of time. Days would go by, and they’d turn into weeks, then a month or two at a time would go by where you wouldn’t see him. 

At first, it hadn’t been terrible– Bucky had always made sure to contact you each and every day. A video call whenever he could, a phone call or text when he couldn’t, but slowly, so slowly you barely noticed, the calls stopped coming all together. Sure, he’d answer when you called him… when he could, which wasn’t always possible on a mission, and you hated acting needy and taking him away from his work, so eventually, you stopped reaching out, too. 

When he was home, you were like ships passing in the night. You always offered to take time off of work so you could spend some time with him before he was set to head out again, but he never wanted you to jeopardize your career on his account. Your reunions would always be passionate, but short-lived, a few hot and heavy nights before he took off once more to save the world. 

You tried not to let it bother you. You really, really did. His job was so important. People’s lives relied on him. Where did you get off getting upset over that? So, you kept it to yourself. Until you couldn’t. Not any more.

“Y/N,” your best friend, Lainy, cornered you at her annual New Year’s Eve party, “where’s Barnes? He’s been leaving you to go solo for months now. I don’t think I’ve seen you with him since Mark’s St. Patrick’s Day Party.”

Ouch. “He’s working, Lainy,” you told her, not wanting to admit that March had been the last time the two of you had gone out together, let alone spent more than three days in a row in each other’s company. 

“Yeah, he was ‘working’ over the Memorial Day trip, and the 4th of July BBQ, and Jack and Alice’s wedding, and your aunt’s funeral.” You cringed internally as she applied air quotes to ‘working.’ “And he was ‘working’ on your birthday, and Christmas. Babe, he’s been leaving you alone for almost an entire year. What’s going on? Are you sure there isn’t someone else?”

The worst part was, you knew there wasn’t, or at least, no one individual. When he’d first started distancing himself, of course another woman was the first thing that came to your mind, and you weren’t proud of yourself, but you’d gone through his phone to search for evidence of an affair… multiple times, and repeatedly came up with nothing. And bless Bucky’s heart, but he didn’t have the technological know-how to hide an infidelity from you. Granted, that didn’t negate the possibility that he was randomly hooking up with people while he was away. You’d have to be stupid to not consider the possibility.

You could have asked Steve. You didn’t think Captain America had it in him to lie to you about something like that, but you didn’t want him reporting on your suspicions back to Bucky, nor did you think you could stand to see the look of pity in his eye if he had to tell you that yes, Bucky was cheating on you while you anxiously awaited his return every night. So, you kept the suspicions to yourself. 

Your conversation with Lainy had left you deflated. Here it was New Year’s Eve, and you were alone, the man you loved god knew where– just not with you. How many more holidays and milestones and everyday nights were you going to spend by yourself, waiting for a man who never seemed to want to be home with you anymore? This wasn’t the kind of life you wanted, the kind of life you deserved. 

You made your way to the kitchen to refill your glass of wine. You’d probably already had too many, but you needed to drown the despair that was slowly filling you up. As you poured an exceptionally generous glass, a man entered the kitchen. You recognized him– Harris, a cousin of Lainy’s who had flirted with you relentlessly for years before you had started seeing Bucky. 

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up upon seeing you, “it’s been awhile.” He enveloped you in a friendly hug. “How’ve you been?”

You smiled and exchanged pleasantries, catching up on the overall brushstrokes of your life. 

“I’m sorry about your breakup,” he offered gently, after you’d exhausted the usual small talk.

“My breakup?” you asked, brow piqued.

“Last few events I’ve seen you at, you’ve been alone. I assumed you and Barnes…” he left the thought floating, the implication hanging in the air: Barnes has left you alone, I assumed you broke up.

You huffed out a laugh. God. Was your relationship actually over and you were the only one dumb enough to not see it? 

“If you aren’t seeing anyone,” Harris continued, “I would really love to take you out. You’ve gotta know I’ve been into you for ages, and I figure if I don’t shoot my shot now, who knows when I’ll have another chance.”

You cocked your head and looked at him, taking in his earnest demeanor. Here was a man who genuinely wanted to spend time with you. Why were you waiting on someone who no longer wanted to be around?

“Um, I might have to get back to you on that, Harris,” you told him before excusing yourself. You needed air. 

You found yourself on Lainy’s balcony, the air deceptively mild for the end of December in Manhattan. Alone with your thoughts, you pulled out your phone and dialed Bucky’s number. It went straight to voicemail.

“Someone asked me out on a date tonight,” you said into the recording, your voice choked with tears you didn’t want to shed. “And I think I might say yes, because, honestly Buck, what are we even doing anymore? You’re never here, and I’m always alone. I tried. I tried so fucking hard to not let it get to me, because your work’s important. I know that. I do, and I’m not begrudging you for your job. But… but I can’t keep on like this. I can’t even remember the last time we spent more than three days together. Isn’t that crazy? Three days. Everyone thinks you’re cheating on me. Did you know that? You’re away so much that everyone I know is convinced you’re fucking someone else. Maybe you are, or maybe you already left me, but I’ve been too stupid to notice; if that’s the case, you could have just told me.” 

You kept your composure as you left the message. You weren’t angry at him; you never could be. You were just tired. So tired, and so lonely. 

“All I know is that it’s another night where I’m all by myself, wishing you were here, wanting to talk to you, to feel you, and you’re just… not. You’re off doing something, or someone, more important than me, and I used to be okay with that, but I can’t be anymore. I deserve more than waiting on you, Buck. I deserve to be someone’s priority. I really wish I could have been yours, the way you were mine. 

“So, let’s just call it, okay? Your heart’s obviously not in it anymore, and mine is too tired of being hurt and alone. We’ll have to figure out what to do about the house. I’m keeping Alpine, though. You haven’t been here for her, either, and it wouldn’t be fair of you to take her if you’re never going to be around.”

Inside, you could hear the rest of the party as they counted down to midnight. When they reached zero, the night erupted in fireworks, and you could hear cheers and cars honking their horns throughout the city below you.

“Huh,” you said into your phone, “it’s midnight. Happy New Year, Buck. I hope it ends up being a good one for you, and I’m sorry for whatever I did that made you decide you didn’t want to spend this last one with me.”

You hung up the phone and the tears finally fell as you slid down the balcony railing until you were crouched on the floor. You weren’t sure how long you sat there crying, but eventually Lainy found you, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders and ushering you into her spare room. She helped you change out of your cocktail dress and into a spare pair of pajamas, and helped you wash your face before tucking you into bed. She left you with a glass of water and a kiss on the forehead, promising that tomorrow would be better, that the next best chapter of your life was about to begin, but as you drifted into a fitful sleep, you couldn’t find the will to believe her.

You woke the next morning with a throbbing headache, the alcohol and the tears doing nothing but dehydrating you into agony. You grabbed your phone to check the time, but the battery had died in the night. From the slant of the sun coming in from the guest room window, it looked to be late morning or early afternoon. 

You changed back into your dress, thanking Lainy for her help and making a small joke about doing the walk of shame in your clothes from the night before. You avoided her questions about what had happened, promising to go over it at length at the weekend after you’d had some time to process. You weren’t in the best headspace to get into at the moment.

Fortunately, your best friend knew you well enough not to pry, and you said your goodbyes, plans for brunch on Sunday having been made. You weren’t eager to get back home, to be surrounded by reminders of Bucky, when all you wanted was the man, himself. But he was your ex-boyfriend now, you supposed. You were going to have to come to terms with that sooner than later. Besides, Alpine needed to be fed, and you weren’t going to abandon her.

Your keys clicked in the lock as you opened your front door. “Al, baby,” you called, kicking off your heels and closing the door behind you, “Mommy’s home. You hungry, sweetie?”

You began making your way back toward the kitchen when a loud crash from upstairs got your attention. You rolled your eyes; what had the cat knocked over now? 

But then there was the roar of a body barreling down the upstairs hall and toward the stairs, leaving you frozen where you stood. You cast a glance to where you’d left your phone in your purse by the door. Too far away to reach in time to call for help as the intruder came pounding down the stairs. 

A massive figure rounded the corner, nearly knocking you over.

“Bucky?” You blinked, sure your eyes were playing tricks on you, but no– there he stood, and he looked like shit. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, and his eyes were swollen and red-rimmed. He’d obviously been wearing the same clothing for at least a day, if not more.

“Y/N,” he breathed, throwing his arms around you and wrapping you in an almost bone-crushing embrace. “Sweetheart, I was so worried.”

“What are you doing here, Buck?” you asked him, pulling away from him. God, you wanted to let him hold you, but you just couldn’t. Not anymore.

Bucky cupped your face in his hands, blue eyes desperately searching yours. “I got your message. Doll, it fucking broke my heart. I came straight home, but you weren’t here, and I was terrified that you were gone; that you’d left me for good.”

You scoffed. “I’m not the one who leaves, Bucky.”

He flinched at your words. “I know, Baby. I know, and ’m so sorry. I had no idea. I shoulda known what leavin’ you so much was doin’ to you, ‘cause it was doin’ it to me, too. When I heard you say that people– that you– thought I was cheating on you, that I had neglected you so much you thought I found someone else, that I could ever love anyone else, ever want anyone else– I’ve never hated myself more, doll. I can’t stand that you even had those thoughts in your head for one second, because it’s always been you. There’s never been anyone else. You’re it.”

“Then why have you been gone?” you asked him in a whisper. “If there’s no one else, and I’m it, why don’t you ever want to be with me? Why do you keep leaving?” 

Bucky ran both his hands along his face. “God, it feels so stupid now,” he said with a sigh. “But I was trying to save–”

“Trying to save the world, yeah, I know,” you interrupted him, annoyed. “Trust me, I’m well aware that I can’t compete with that. But I needed to know you thought we were worth saving, too, and you never did.”

Bucky started laughing then, and you scoffed. “Wow, you don’t have to rub it in, Bucky.”

“No, no– Sweetheart, no!” he shook his head. “That’s not it, at all. Hold on.” He went to the foyer and grabbed his go-bag; you had missed it when you walked in. Coming back to the kitchen, he put it on the table, opening it up and extracting a folded piece of paper and handing it to you.

It was a real estate listing for a farmhouse Upstate, with acreage on the Hudson. You and Bucky had talked about what kind of house you would buy if the situation had ever presented itself, and it was almost as if you’d dreamed it up.

You looked from the paper back to Bucky. “I don’t understand,” you told him.

“It needs pretty extensive renovations,” he told you. “I wanted to take on enough overtime to have the money for them and make a good dent on the mortgage, but it needed more work than I originally thought. And, I have to come clean– I haven’t been one hundred percent honest with you about where I’ve been spending all my time.” He looked up at you through his lashes, head bent down in shame.

“But… but, you said there wasn’t anyone else,” you stammered, heart ready to beat out of your chest. 

“Oh god! No, and I mean that! There isn’t, I swear! God, I’ve fucked this up so bad!” Bucky tugged at his hair in frustration. “I’ve been going on extra missions, but sometimes, Sam, Steve, and I go Upstate to do some work on the house, to cut down the costs so I could still make my timeline.”

“You already bought it?” you asked, your voice flat. You were in shock. “You want to move out? Away from me?”

Bucky moaned in distress and drew you to him again. “No! God, I’m doing this all wrong. I want us to move there, together. To make it the perfect house. The perfect home for me, my wife and our stupid fur baby.”

You stilled at his words. “I’m sorry, your what?”

Bucky smiled at you sheepishly as he reached back into his go-bag. “I’ll have you know that I had an entire plan. Was gonna have the house ready by Valentine’s Day. Take you up there as a surprise, ask you properly, but I fucked that up, so…” He brought his hand back out, holding a small burgundy velvet box. He opened it to reveal a vintage engagement ring, a sapphire instead of a diamond. Your favorite stone.

Bucky got down on one knee. “Y/N,” he began as his voice choked up a bit with emotion, “I know I fucked up for the last eight months. I would completely understand if you can’t forgive me, but I need you to know that I love you. I have only ever loved you, and if you let me, I will spend the rest of my life making up for the fact that, even for a moment, I let you think that you weren’t the most important thing in my life, my number one priority. Will you marry me?”

“Buck…” you began, not sure how to phrase what you were about to say. “What about your job? I can’t keep coming in second to the rest of the world, and I get that it’s selfish of me, but–”

“I quit,” he said simply.

“What?” Your eyes were wide with shock at his statement. 

“The second I heard your voicemail, where you said you wanted to call it because I was never there, I told Steve I was done, that I needed to start putting you first. It wasn’t even a question. I’m officially retired.”

Your mouth hung open. You had hoped he would cut down on his missions, but for him to have quit completely… You gently tugged him to his feet, taking the ring box and running a finger across it.

“It’s lovely,” you told him softly. “Absolutely perfect; exactly what I would have picked for myself.” Bucky beamed at you, pleased. “But I can’t accept it.” His face fell as you gently placed the ring back in his hands. 

“Oh,” he whispered, eyes growing glassy. “I… um, I understand. I fucked up, hurt you. I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore.”

“I still want to be with you, you idiot,” you admonished him. “But you did hurt me, and we’ve been apart for a long time. We need time to find our way back to each other again, okay? Ask me again on Valentine’s Day, just like you originally planned. Don’t do it now just because you fucked up.” You leaned up on your tip toes and kissed him. “And if it helps make you feel better, I’m probably going to say ‘yes,’ anyway.”

Bucky grinned at you. “Really?” he asked. When you nodded, he picked you up and spun you in  a circle before pressing his lips to yours as if he hadn’t touched you in months. “I promise you, Sweetheart, I’ll do anything I can to make this up to you, I swear it.”

“Anything?” you asked with a smile. “I think I know where you can start.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked you. “And where’s that?”

“Take me to bed, Bucky Barnes,” you said, kissing him again.

Without a word, Bucky swung you over his shoulder and ran with you up the stairs, your squeals and giggles echoing behind him.

Much, much later, when you lay sated together tangled in limbs and sheets with Alpine snuggled next to your heads, Bucky played with your fingers as you rested your head on his bare chest.

“So, Doll,” he said, kissing the pads of each of your fingers, “you gonna tell me who had the nerve to ask my girl out on a date?” 

You laughed. “Lainy’s cousin, Harris. I suppose I’ll have to text him now and tell him I’m not interested.”

“Hell no, you’re not interested,” Bucky chuffed. “Gonna have to remind that punk you’ve already got a boyfriend. The position has been filled.”

“That’s the thing, though,” you said, planting a kiss on his nose. “I don’t have a boyfriend anymore, do I?”

Bucky’s face fell. “But I thought you said–”

“I’ve got myself a fiance.”

Bucky tightened his grip around you, drawing you even closer to his warmth. “Yeah, okay. I gotta admit I like the sound of that a lot better.”

Your entire relationship with Bucky Barnes might not have played out like a fairy tale, but in that moment, you were more sure than ever that you two would get your happily ever after.

[2hightocare]

TUTUS AND TIARAS!

Synopsis— What Iseul says Jungkook does, besides tutus and tiaras are not that bad…

“Did Iseul lose a tooth? Why is Kook dressed as the tooth fairy?”

pairings: dilf!jungkook x fem!oc

genre: found family! married au!

warnings: just super cute fluff, Jungkook literally doing anything Iseul tells him to do, cuss words, mentions of sex.

a/n: I missed writing their lil family :( welcome Jia to the family!! I love them so much… I hope you guys do too🥹

“Let’s be honest, I look sexy as fuck.” Your husband runs his hand over his body; a snort escapes past your lips, which gets glared at in return from Jungkook who’s in a pink tutu and pink tiara he stole from Iseul.

“Not only is he full of himself, but he’s delusional as fuck as well… great.” Ari shakes her head, as you take a picture secretly beside her with Iseul and Ye Joon clapping their hands happily on your lap.

Jungkook’s Calvin Klein boxers are visible to everyone in the room; the only thing barely covering him is the very small pink tutu that his daughter put on him, and she didn’t have to ask twice; everyone knew anything Iseul wanted she got. The small charm necklace lays tightly on his neck like a choker, shirtless, his tattoos in full display, the tiny tiara sits prettily on his messy hair.

“I can a hundred percent see your balls.” Hoseok sighs, as he rubs a hand through his hair. Giving his girlfriend a small tight-lip smile, which might translate as an apology for dragging her into this little family dynamic.

Jia still remembers meeting all of you on Christmas Eve dinner; to say she felt immediately welcomed was somewhat calming to her. She usually took super long to trust someone and open up, but meeting all of you sent her a sense of comfort whenever she was in everyone’s presence.

“Okay, I feel like I need to warn you before opening the door…” Hoseok softly chuckles, which causes steam to come out of his mouth from how cold it was.

Jia raises an eyebrow, “are they that bad?” She asks.

“Nothing to be scared of; they just love really hard…” He smiles at his girlfriend, who only nods in return, slightly feeling nervous since she knew that whoever was behind that door meant so much to the boy she had fallen in love with. “And besides, they are a little crazy too…” he shrugs before clicking on the doorbell to your and Jungkook’s house.

Hoseok moves the container full of chocolate chip cookies cut into cute Christmas decorations to his other hand, then takes Jia’s hand right after squeezing softly.

The door opens as you stand happily behind it; eyes lighting up when you see the couple in the entrance. “Hi! Happy Christmas Eve!” You quickly hug Hoseok, which he returns, wrapping his arms around your frame giving your back a small pat before separating.

“And you must be Jia, you’re prettier in person.” You open your arms before throwing yourself into a hug without thinking. Without a second thought, Jia hugs back.

“Come in; everyone is already here, we’re just waiting for Seokjin and Lora.” You part away from Jia, who’s smiling back at you before following behind you inside.

“Y/n said you had to share!” A boy throws himself onto the raven boy who’s hovering over the last cookie pack; he has been hiding from everyone. “Okay and? This is the last pack!” He shouts back as they both tackle on the couch, the cookie pack flying onto the floor.

“I’ve got a hundred on Kookie; who’s in?” The blonde girl says as she chews on the cookies from the packet that they’re fighting for.

“Done betting on Jungkook after No Nut November, thousand-dollar mistake. Motherfucker couldn’t last twenty-four hours.” Another guy comes in from the back and sighs loudly as the blonde girl nods before passing the pretty girl beside her a cookie.

Jia couldn’t explain how her body and mind instantly relaxed after witnessing the whole situation unfolding in front of her; she saw how you quickly intervened, separating the two boys before giving the raven boy with a tattoo sleeve a swat before snatching the cookie pack from the two girls’ reach and walking back to her.

She watched as the blonde girl passed a hundred bucks to a boy on her right. Before turning their attention to her.

“Hi, I’m Eunbi!” The blonde girl smiled warmly, “Happy Christmas Eve! I’m Ari.” The other girl beside her says, standing up and coming Jia’s way for a hug. “We’re huggers here!” Ari giggles.

“Taehyung,” He goes in for a hug as well, “I’m Jimin!” The boy who was just hovering over Jungkook smiles softly at Jia, going in for a hug as well.

“Jeon Jungkook, extrovert, DILF extraordinaire.” He says standing next to you, wrapping his arm around your waist. “This motherfu…” You groan alongside everyone. “Here he goes again,” “He’s not allowed to introduce himself anymore.” “Can we throw him away?” All of them mutter under their breaths.

“Please ignore him; I’m y/n and I’m stuck with him for the rest of my life.” You roll your eyes as you motion to the guy beside you.

“You sure as hell are.” He puffs,

“Stop looking at my balls!” Jungkook covers his lower part with his hand before shouting, “Tae come out now!”

That’s when everyone gasps loudly, his wife’s jaw dropping to the floor sending Jimin into a fit of laughter. “And I thought Jungkook’s outfit was bad; I can’t! Someone record this shit right now.” Jimin laughs, throwing his head back as he clutches his stomach.

“Sending this to the family group chat ASAP; I need to see what Lora got to say about this.” You laugh as you take a picture of your husband and Taehyung side by side, Jungkook smiling with two thumbs up while Taehyung holds his balls tightly.

Taehyung stands beside your husband in a pair of pink leotards and sheer stockings a little too small for his large figure and has his two hands in front of his private parts. “It’s up my ass I’m afraid…” Taehyung states which sends the group into a large fit of laughter, the kids who suggested the fashion show are currently giggling and clapping their hands non-stop for their daddies.

“Take it off! I can’t breathe..” Ari clutches her stomach as she presses her legs together, as she’s about to pee herself. A loud ding is heard from everyone’s phones, “Lora said, ‘I didn’t know Tae took ballet classes?’ ‘Did Iseul lose a tooth? Why is Kook dressed as the tooth fairy?” You read out loud laughing between words.

“Oh, she’s so real,” Jia says between laughs as she watches Taehyung waddle away with Jungkook running behind him.

“I can’t believe I’m tied to this family for the rest of my life.” Eunbi fake wipes her tears as she sniffles, before snatching Jimin’s last cookie.

“Dada!!” Iseul says loudly when Jungkook comes back running down the stairs with a new cookie packet, “hi my baby” Jungkook’s eyes widened as he picks Iseul up from your lap and showering her cheeks with wet kisses. Iseul giggles in his arms trying to push him away.

“The day when Iseul grows up and doesn’t want Jungkook’s kisses—“ Yoongi tries saying, “I’m not listening, I’m not listening.” Jungkook starts screaming, sending Ye Joon and Iseul into a giggling mess as they both put their hands over their ears, copying him.

You watch with a big smile on your face. You truly had no idea how you ended up sitting on this couch surrounded by the people that you loved more than anything else in the world. You watch your husband with your daughter in his arms as he passes Iseul half of a cookie before going back to arguing with Yoongi about how Iseul will one day grow up, and she’ll be her own person that one day won’t ever listen to her dad ever again.

“In fact, Iseul might grow up before you do,” Taehyung says, patting Jungkook’s back as he walks beside him. The tights and leotard long discarded and replaced with jeans and a shirt before dropping in the middle of you and his wife on the couch, putting his arm around Ari.

“I’m done with all of you! Everyone out!” Jungkook pouts, pointing to the door. “You for real ain’t kicking us out?” Hoseok questions, laughing only to be met with a serious look on Jungkook’s face.

“Out. I’m trying to fuck my wife.” Jungkook says casually, not before covering Iseul’s ears.

And without a second thought, everyone stood up, collected their things, and made their way to the door. “Oh, we’re actually leaving?” Jia asks, confused about why everyone is suddenly in a rush to leave.

“You weren’t here at the time, but Halloween night… let’s just say party, bathroom, Y/N, and Jungkook.” Eunbi shivers from the memory.

And with that, everyone leaves, leaving you on the couch chuckling, and Jungkook locking the door behind them with Iseul in his arms. “Did you just say that so they could leave?” You stand up, making your way to him, wrapping your arms around his neck as he puts Iseul down, and she waddles away with Bam, your guy’s Doberman puppy.

“No, I’m actually trying to fuck,” Jungkook shrugs, leaving a wet kiss on your neck. “Iseul?” You ask, trying to push him away.

“Princess! Nap time!” He untangles himself from you before rushing to get Iseul.

[delusional-day-dreamer]

pretty in pink - p.b

‣ paige bueckers x reader!

‣ wc: 2835

‣‣ synopsis: your longtime (not so secret) girlfriend surprises you by dying her hair your favorite color! takes place before and on july 22nd (aka paige's sneakity peakity live). literally just tooth-rotting fluff and a little kissing!

‣‣‣ a/n: this is the fic that won in the poll (i'm not surprised y'all chose paige) but the next one i have scheduled to release is one of the nika ones! hopefully i'll be more consistent with writing in these next few weeks before school starts.

On your way home after a very successful meeting planning out the beginning of the uconn women's basketball team season, especially with media days and pressers, there was only one thing that could've made your night better. The presence of your beloved girlfriend, Paige Bueckers.

You and Paige had started dating in the middle of her junior year and your sophomore year, but that's not to say the two of you weren't harboring feelings for a while before that. Being one of the team photographers had allowed you to spend a lot of time with the uconn wbb team on and off the court, and you were very close with basically all of the players, especially Azzi.

Being in Azzi's year meant that she was the first person you connected with, having two classes with her outside of basketball definitely helped your relationship as well.

So it was nothing less of a delight to her when she would often catch your gaze lingering on her other best friend, Paige Bueckers, for just a second too long at games or certain practices you were called to take shots of.

As little did you know, she had caught on to the fact that Paige bore a huge crush on the pretty photographer who always got the best shots of her, came to check up on her before both her meniscus and acl surgeries and stayed with her multiple nights afterwards, and to top it all off, always gifting her the cutest bouquets of her favorite purple flowers.

She only put up with the two of you respectively complaining to her about your ever-consuming feelings for three ish months, before finally setting the two of you up to privately confess in your hotel room on Christmas Eve after an easy dub for UConn.

After a few shedded tears, excited giggles, slight teasing, and searing kisses, the two of you made it official, not telling anyone on the team, except Azzi of course, until around Valentine's Day, and still keeping it on the down low from the media, but you often joined Paige as her plus one to events pertaining to and outside basketball.

And unfortunately for the two of you lovestruck fools, you weren't the most discreet when making heart eyes at each other. The fans were not oblivious to the way Paige would look for you before, during, and after games, the fact that majority of your best photography was of Paige, and your friendly, but all too coupley sweet, interactions.

With this shipping, of course, came a huge following and obsessed, loving fan base for you and Paige. Fans ate up the aesthetic posts that graced your instagram feed, your occasional but always viral tiktoks, and your carefully curated list of public playlists on spotify and apple music (some that fans noticed had paige's favorite songs on).

And yet, you never outright addressed the rumors, despite your tiktok reposts hinting at the fact that you were dating someone, and small sly remarks occasionally dropped on KK's live hinting at your taken status, you and Paige had never found the need to publicly announce your relationship, reveling in the privacy you two were able to maintain while (badly) keeping it a secret.

That is, up until about a month ago. With the difficult conversation of whether Paige would enter the draft or stay another year at UConn, the possibility of long distance and what the future of your relationship would look like, you and Paige decided that you would make the most out of the last year you had together at university, and that included being able to publicly love up on your girlfriend.

Though you had never decided when and how to announce your relationship, agreeing that you would just go with the flow when it seemed right, Paige had a different idea in mind at how to hard launch your relationship to the rest of the world.

A random KK Arnold live in the middle of your junior year

"Y/n/n, the live wants to see more of you. They just can't get enough of you girly pop, they in loveeee," KK sang out, knowing the reason you so scarcely appeared on her lives was the fact that you were just a little camera shy, not used to constantly being in front of the media like the girls on the team were.

"KK I'm literally bare-faced in pajamas," you whispered from behind the camera, scratching the side of your face as you glanced at Paige sitting next to her.

"Girl boo, ain't no one care. You look good either way, just come say hi to the fans," she insisted, trying to ease you out your shell. Everyone on the team knew what an outgoing social butterfly you were, but social media had always intimidated you to a certain extent, which is why you preferred being behind the camera rather than in front of it.

You glanced at Paige again, who nodded encouragingly and scooted to the side, opening a space for you to take a seat between the two girls.

You sighed as you made your way to the couch, sitting criss-crossed between the two basketball players as KK's arm immediately swung to rest around your shoulders, happily introducing you to her live.

"Y'all if you don't know Miss Y/N, you should. She's our little camera girl and gets us right, EVERY TIME. I don't know if I can allow her to leave after next year because she's the only person out here that actually gets my angles right. Plus, we all in her little bougie apartment right now, y'all don't understand that she lives better than all of us here," You smiled at KK's rambling, she was one of the younger girls you had a particular soft spot for, and she always referred to you and Paige as her parents with how close you guys were.

"Okay so boom, let's do a little q and a with y/n so y'all can get to know who she is. You ready?" She turned to you, fake holding an imaginary mic in her hand as she got ready to "interview" you.

"Well if the fans want to know, who am I to say no?" You shrugged, loosening up a little with how infectious KK's energy was.

"Okay bars, let's start off with what the people want to know," she scanned over the influx of comments coming in to the livestream, picking out a few before turning back to you.

"Easy one first since apparently no one here pays attention to what I say, who are you and why do you know us?" She side-eyed the camera, pretending to be annoyed that people didn't listen to her explanation the first time. Paige sat silently next to you, doing her best to not stare at you lovingly on camera, knowing how intricately fans analyzed any of your interactions together.

"I'm y/n l/n and I'm one of the photographers for the women's basketball team. Have been since I was a freshman, and I don't plan on leaving anytime soon, so y'all are stuck with me," you proceeded to stick your tongue out at Aubrey, who was all the way in the edge of the live's background, but still visible as she pretended to choke herself at the mention of you staying for the next two years.

"Anyways, hmmm," you leaned in to the camera slightly, reading over the questions to find an appropriate one to answer.

"Oh my favorite color, that's literally one of the easiest questions ever. Pink, no doubt about it. I have so many pink things in my apartment."

"Someone said, you should give a little pink tour, you could show them your like matcha station thing and your bedroom, it's like a unicorn threw up pink in there. Plus all your little stuffed animals," KK joked, making fun of your obsession with the color.

"Maybe next time guys, going straight to the bedroom the first time we meet is crazyyy," you teased, inciting laughter from multiple of the girls lounging around you living room.

"Yo chilll," Paige quipped, gently tapping your knee with the back of her hand as she smirked up at you from her slouched position against your couch cushions.

You raised an eyebrow at her teasingly, giggling as you break off her gaze to return your attention back to the live.

"Which one of your stuffed animals is your favorite? Okay so for the most part they're all Jellycats, or like the weighted dinosaurs from Target, but my favorite by far is my little Jellycat bouquet of flowers, it's the cutest thing I’ve ever been gifted," You smiled, excited to talk about a part of your life that the viewers didn't know was about Paige.

When you first came to UConn, you only brought one stuffed animal with you from your vast childhood collection at home, the little pink bunny from Jellycat. But over the past three years, your college collection had grown solely due to the gifts Paige bought you, knowing how much you loved having those parts of her at night when she couldn't make it for some reason or was at away games you weren't scheduled for.

You continued to scan over the comments, doing your best to bite back a smile at the ones freaking out over you and Paige. You were used to it by now, but the thrill of secrecy never failed to make your heart race.

Back to present

Walking up to the steps of your apartment, you had no clue what surprise Paige had prepared for you, as you weren't expecting her to fly back until tomorrow. But when Brittany had called Paige to discuss the game plan for the teams upcoming shoot with a semi permanent hair dye brand, Paige immediately knew the perfect surprise to greet you with after your long separation due to her “world tour”.

Originally, the two of you were supposed to travel together, using the trip as a hard launch, but after some last minute issues with your time off with work and the busy schedule they crammed onto you, you decided it would be best to stay back while Paige enjoyed her solo tour, even though it was far from easy.

The two of you were constantly texting and calling whenever you found a spare minute in your busy days, and it was the only thing keeping you sane the last two weeks. And when you said constantly texting, you meant it.

And apparently, even Paige's friends recognized how down bad she was without you, after Flaujae exposed her for cheesing at her phone while texting you at the WNBA All-Star game, which you immediately found out about by the influx of comments tagging you, questioning if you were the person responsible. You were, of course, but they didn't need to know that. At least for now, to your knowledge at least.

Opening the door to your apartment, you set your shoes down on the neat rack you had set up, hanging up your keys on the wall above it as you made your way to your bedroom, unsuspecting as to what awaited you.

"Oh my god," you shrieked, processing the sight that greeted you as you reached right outside the door frame, mouth agape as your eyes took in the figure perched by the edge of your neatly made, pink bed, grinning at your shocked expression.

"Paige what the fuck, oh my god. You're here, you're pink, what the hell," you exclaimed hurriedly, rushing into your room to envelop your girlfriend in a tight hug, wrapping your arms around her neck as she encircled your waist.

She couldn't help but laugh at your reaction, angling her head up from your stomach so she could speak directly to you.

"Hey baby, you like it?" She grinned, pleased with the way your night was about to play out.

"You're so pink what the hell, when did you even find time to do this?" You questioned, running your fingers through her freshly dyed pink hair, in awe of the way your girlfriend could pull off just literally any look.

"Right before I left LA, figured if I was gonna dye my hair for the shoot I might as well make it my girl's favorite color yeah? But like, it looks good right?"

You raised an eyebrow at her not so subtle dig at you not answering her question, needing the validation from you to approve her new look.

You thought about your response for a second, going back and forth between teasing her a little, just to pull on her leg for shits and giggles, or just fawning over her the way you've been dying to do since she left the warmth of your embrace.

But, inevitable your longing to shower her in compliments and kisses overpowered any need to pester her, and it clearly showed on your face as your mouth broke out in a wide smile.

"You look so pretty baby. On God. Literally the most beautiful girlfriend ever," you gushed, tucking the front pieces of her hair behind her ears so you could take a look at her new piercings as well.

You had quite a few ear piercings from when you were bored in high school, the glint of gold jewelry along your ear almost always prominent since you wore majority of the earrings 24/7, and Paige would be lying if she said her piercings weren’t slightly inspired by yours.

“And these as well?” You teased, referring to her helix and seconds. “So sexy, truly P,” you nodded at her, grinning wide as you leaned down for a kiss.

You sighed against Paige’s lips, forgoing the teasing demeanor you held as you felt the craving for her subside, eager to finally have her back in your arms. Your mouth moved hungrily against hers, using one hand to grasp at her jaw and the other at the base of her neck, holding her tight in a desperate attempt to re-memorize the taste of her lips.

Paige’s grip on your waist tightened, before one hand left to travel down to your ass, playfully smacking your left cheek before grabbing onto the fat to pull you in closer to her, her intentions to drag you onto the bed next to her clear.

You whined as you broke away from her kiss, resisting her attempt to pull you down as you pouted down at her.

“No outside clothes on the bed Paige, I need to go shower first,” you insisted, rubbing your thumb against her cheek.

“You know lucky for me I have quite a bit of free time right now, and an extra shower never hurt anybody,” she quipped back, unwilling to separate from your presence now that she finally had you.

“Yeah?” You smirked, grabbing her hand as you led her outside your room and into the bathroom across the hall.

The Next Day; UConn women’s locker room (i think?)

You glanced up from your phone, watching as Paige moved around the locker room, posing with Ice, Azzi, Morgan, and Carol, setting her phone lower so the camera couldn't see anyone but her.

She raised her eyebrow at you questioningly, silently asking whether you wanted to be shown on the live from your seat in the corner of the locker.

You nodded at her, beckoning her over to sit next to you as you set your phone down, smiling at her as she made her way over to you.

“Since y’all wanna know why I chose pink, thought it was obvious but apparently not,”

She extended her arm outwards so that both of your bodies could easily fit in the frame of the camera.

“You know I had to make it my girl’s favorite color, now all that’s left is for y/n to do hers purple,” She glanced at you out of the corner of her eye, making sure you were okay with how easily she referred to you as “her girl” in front of the thousands of viewers.

“Just cause you look pretty in pink does not mean I’m dying my hair purple Paige, I can’t pull all that off like you can baby,” you flirted shamelessly, running your fingers through your hair as you smirked at the blush that rose to her cheeks at your very public display.

“Aight not too much now,” She rose from her seat, patting your thigh off camera as she walked over to Brittany, cheesing and blushing hard as she avoided looking down at the camera until she posed with Brittany, smiling as her eyes skimmed over the flood of shocked and astonished comments regarding your relationship.

“Yeah that’s my girl, what ‘bout it?”

Let’s just say following Paige’s live and your respective hard launch posts on instagram, your phone has never and probably will never again experience such a quick and constant rush of notifications over the span of four days.

a/n: hope y'all enjoyed!!

[writingwithciara]

worth the wait ~matt sturniolo~

summary: 5 times matt wanted to tell his best friend he loved her + the 1 time he actually went through with it

word count: 3.8k

pairing: matt sturniolo x best friend!reader

notes: i love the 5+1 fics because they are just so cute. and who exudes cuteness more than our very own matthew sturniolo?

masterlist

december 31, 2013/january 1, 2014: the first time he knew & wanted to express it

it was new years eve and mary lou was throwing a party for her friends and family to celebrate the arrival of 2013.

a lot had gone on that year and she figured the best way to unwind would be to have all her closest friends together under one roof.

y/n was best friends with the matt and her parents were close to his own parents so inviting them over was the first thing that crossed marylou's mind.

y/n walked in like she owned the place and went right to matt and chris' bedroom.

"hey guys."

"what's up?" nick was the first one to greet her, as chris and matt were both occupied with a video game.

"remember how on christmas we were discussing the fact that people kiss at midnight on new years? and then we were deciding who we would all kiss when the clock struck 12?"

"of course i remember. what about it though?" chris set his controller down and the boys all looked at y/n.

"you guys were arguing over who wanted to kiss me at midnight but to settle it, i decided on my own."

"okay." matt leaned forward in his bean bag. "so who's it going to be?"

"you'll find out at midnight." she winked and skipped out of the room. the boys just glanced at each other, trying to figure out who she picked.

as midnight slowly approached, the boys were starting to feel sleepy. y/n had decided on kissing chris at midnight but when she looked over at him, he was passed out on the couch so she shook her head and made another decision.

matt noticed nick passed out too so he gently nudged y/n.

"guess that just leaves you." she smiled through a yawn.

"was i your last pick?"

"yeah. sorry."

"no. it's okay. at least i'm getting picked." he shrugged nonchalantly.

y/n just looked at him and smiled when she heard the adults start counting. "you ready?"

"is this going to be your first kiss?" he looked at his lap.

"nope. kissed donnie ryder on the last day of school before the break."

"oh okay." matt glanced over at the tv screen. "2 seconds."

"1" y/n leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on matt's lips. "happy new year, matty."

he was only 10 years old but to him, the kiss meant everything.

by the time y/n's parents were ready to leave, they noticed she was passed out on the couch with the boys. her head resting in chris' lap. mary lou looked down at the kids and smiled.

"you can leave her ere for the night. she'll be alright."

"are you sure?" y/n's mom glanced back and forth between her daughter and mary loud.

"of course. i'm sure the kids would all appreciate it in the morning."

"okay. thank you mary lou." y/n's parents smiled and headed home, leaving their child in the care of their best friend.

when the kids woke up in the morning, y/n was on the floor and matt's arm was laying across her face. she carefully moved it off her face and he woke up.

"i'm sorry. didn't mean to wake you." y/n looked at the other 2 who were fast asleep before looking back at matt.

"it's all good." he smiled and stretched. "happy new years, y/n."

"happy new years, matty." she repeated the response from a few hours ago and matt admired her for it.

there was something in the way she called him 'matty' that made him realize that at only 10 years old, he was in love with his best friend.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

august 1, 2016: the second time matt wanted to express his feelings

ever since they kissed on new years, matt couldn't stop thinking about y/n. she occupied every vacant thought he had and it bugged him. she was his best friend and he didn't want to be feeling this way.

at his 13th birthday, his brothers had all their friends over and although he loved nathan's company, he was always looking for y/n. he found her after 5 seconds of searching, which he knew was a little odd.

"happy birthday to my favorite triplet." she whispered as she pulled him into a tight hug.

"your favorite triplet? thought i was your overall favorite."

"well if it wasn't for justin, you would be."

"right. justin." matt looked around the room until his eyes landed on his older brother. y/n had revealed to him just last month that she had harboring a crush on justin for the last 2 years and it bothered matt. he understood that girls sometimes had crushes on older men but why couldn't she have a crush on him instead?

"he's so cute." she stared in justin's direction and matt felt the pit in his stomach begin to form.

"y/n, he's 19. ain't that a little too old for you?"

"maybe. but you can't help who you love."

there it was. the one word he wanted to express to her. the one word he couldn't figure out how to say to her. the only word he struggled with.

"no, you really can't." he looked at her briefly before looking down at his feet. "it's not really love, is it?"

"course not. think it's just a phase really. but i can't help it. we grew up with him always protecting us. it's admirable."

"yeah yeah. whatever." matt threw his hand out, gesturing that the idea was nonsense, causing y/n to roll her eyes playfully.

"it's time for cake." nick appeared, grabbing the two of them and dragging them into the kitchen towards the triplets cakes. each one of them was different but so were the boys so it matched perfectly.

"make a wish." mary lou smiled and pointed the camera at the boys as they each blew out their candles.

"i wished for a lot of candy."

"me too." chris smiled at nick and they both turned towards matt. "what did you wish for?"

matt, ever a believer in superstitions, knew that if he told anyone his wish, it wouldn't come true. he glanced to his right and smiled at y/n. "sorry boys. if i tell you, it won't come true."

his wish was to finally be able to be with y/n in the future. he didn't want to screw that up in any way.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

june 1, 2020: the third time he wanted to tell her but couldn't

"i think i want to start making youtube videos." matt sighed as he flopped down on y/n's bed.

they were almost 17 and neither of them had solid plans for after high school.

"i think that's a wonderful idea, matty." y/n sat up and looked at her friend. "what are you going to make them about?"

"well nick, chris and i were talking the other day and we came to the conclusion that we'll just film videos in the car somewhere and come up with random topics each time. or maybe we could do challenge videos every friday. what sounds better?"

"i like the car video idea. but i also like the idea of watching you guys go through challenges. especially if they're one of those gross food ones or something." y/n giggled at matt's expression.

"think the boys will be up for both?" matt sat up straight and looked at his feet. "what if we fail at this? what am i going to do?"

"matthew bernard, you are incredible. you'll figure life out and if the youtube career doesn't pan out the way you want it to, i'll be here to help you figure out your next step, alright?"

"okay." he looked up at her and smiled. "wanna film with us?"

"i don't think your female fans would appreciate that very much."

"we don't have fans."

"not yet. but you will. and you're going to be the favorite. the girls are going to love you."

"you think so?"

"of course i do." she smiled. "just don't forget me when you're famous."

"i could never forget you, y/n."

right then, matt felt like he could lean forward and kiss her. but he didn't. he restrained himself. instead, he brought up the topic y/n was trying to forget about.

"so, how's your crush on justin going?"

when she giggled and hit him with a pillow, he felt so much love for her. it was insane.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

august 1, 2022: the fourth time he wanted to tell her

the triplets had just turned 19 and they were throwing a party. even though it was just their group of friends, matt was feeling anxious. he didn't like crowds and his eyes roamed the group of people, looking for his favorite pair of eyes. when he couldn't find her, he felt his chest tighten. his grip on the cup he was holding began turning his knuckles white.

"hey, matty. wanna go hang out in your room for a bit? how's that sound?" y/n whispered beside him. he looked down at her and nodded slowly. she grabbed his cup, set it on the counter and guided him back to his bedroom. she passed nick on the way and he nodded in understanding.

when y/n sat matt on his bed, he looked at her and smiled softly.

"thank you." he let out a sigh. y/n sat next to him and wiped the lone tear off his cheek.

"anytime." she smiled in return.

the two of them sat in silence for a few minutes before matt spoke up again.

"i know they're my friends out there but i just...i just..." he couldn't form the right words. y/n placed her hand on his and smiled.

"i get it, matt. you don't have to say anything."

"you don't have to stay in here with me, you know? they're your friends too."

"they may be, but you're my best friend and i feel you need the company more."

"thank you. i really appreciate it." he scooted up the bed until his back was against the headboard. y/n mimicked his actions and rested her head on his shoulder. he placed a kiss to the top of her head and lingered for a few extra seconds.

a few seconds he felt came off as a little more than platonic. but even if y/n noticed, she didn't say a thing. matt knew she was thinking about it though and he knew she didn't bring it up because she didn't want to make him uncomfortable & he couldn't love her more for it.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

february 14, 2023: the fifth time he wanted to tell her but couldn't

valentines day was a day mainly pointed at couples or people who wanted to spend a lot of money to get someone to love them. most of the time, it worked.

but for matt, it didn't.

he spent the past 5 months trying to get over y/n. after the birthday party, he figured that after almost 10 years of being in love with her and not being able to find the courage to tell her, he would just give up and try to focus his love elsewhere.

it resulted in multiple one night stands that never left him feeling as good as y/n did when she was around. he was too far in love with her to forget.

so when valentine's day slowly approached, he devised a plan to tell her how he felt. he bought her favorite flowers and bought her favorite food since she didn't like the traditional chocolate and roses. he also bought her balloons because he knew she liked the way the helium sounded. he knew it was ridiculous to spend money on someone but y/n was worth it to him.

he set everything up in his bedroom and waited for her arrival in the living room.

it was over an hour of waiting before she came through the front door, using the key he gave her.

"i am so sorry i'm late. i know we were supposed to hang out today but work was crazy swamped and my boss asked me to stay after my shift to help clean up the dinner rush."

"it's okay. we're not on any schedule." matt stood up from his spot on the couch and approached her. she smiled at him and let him guide her back to the couch. "you can pick the movie."

"i always pick the movie though. don't you want to pick just this once?"

"no. this is your day. i'm letting you pick. besides, i enjoy it when you pick. it always makes you happy."

"you're the best, matty." she kissed his cheek and rested her head on his shoulder. she pressed play on 'tangled' and even though they had watched the movie together about a hundred times, matt enjoyed it because y/n did. it was her favorite movie and he knew that.

halfway through the movie, the doorbell rang. y/n groaned in protest when matt removed his arm from around her shoulder and stood up.

"it's the food i ordered. be right back." matt ran down the stairs and grabbed the food, handed the driver a $20 tip and went back up to the living room. "happy valentine's day." he set the bag down and y/n opened it.

"you ordered my favorite meal?"

"of course." he smiled and watched as y/n began eating the food. she offered him a bite but he shook his head and she continued eating. when she finished, she looked at matt and he swore he felt his heart skip a beat. she had some sauce on the corner of her mouth and matt thought it was oddly attractive.

"what are you staring at, weirdo?"

"you got a little something right here." he grabbed the napkin and dabbed her lips gently. her eyes briefly closed at the contact and matt took this second to admire her. he slowly pulled the napkin away and stood up quickly.

"you alright?"

"i almost forgot that i set something up in my room for you." he started walking to his room but stopped. "are you staying the night?"

"yeah. i'm too exhausted to drive home and i don't want to bother you for a ride since you already do so much for me." y/n approached him and smiled. "now let's go see what you have set up for me."

when y/n's eyes landed on the balloons, she gasped. then she saw the vase of flowers on matt's beside table & it was like she was in heaven.

she stood there in silence for a little too long so matt grabbed her hand. she was startled but she looked up at him with nothing but adoration in her eyes.

"you are so perfect, matty. and when you do this for a girl for real, she's going to love you endlessly."

he felt like shouting 'this is for real. why can't you see that?' at her, but he didn't. he wanted to tell her he loved her but he had no idea how to prove it.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

march 1 2024: the one time he was finally able to tell her

matt had been silently pining for his best friend for over 10 years and he knew that he needed to face his fears and finally let it out. he wanted to tell chris and ask him for help but he knew that would be a lost cause.

nick was almost no better than chris but he knew that at least with nick, he wouldn't get some bullshit back.

he slowly approached nick's door and knocked. "hey. it's matt. can i ask you for some advice?"

nick opened the door and looked at his brother. "what's up?"

"i need your advice on how to express your feelings for someone."

"just tell y/n how you feel. don't be too grand with the gestures because she hates those. make her favorite meal and jsut tell her everything."

"how do you know who-"

"please, matthew. it's been 10 years. i almost told her for you on her birthday last year but she was pulled away by chris just in time so you're lucky. and if you don't tell her soon, she's going to end up with some loser asshole and she'll be out of our lives forever. you don't want that, do you?"

"absolutely not. i can't let her out of my life." he smiled and went to turn away but a thought went through his mind and he frowned. "what if i tel lher and she freaks out? she'll be out of my life then too."

"she's not going to freak out. she may not like to admit it but she's been in love with you for the last 5 years at least. and before you ask me how i know, i'm attentive. i see things most people don't. but you need to tell her today before you lose her for good."

"why today?"

"she's got a date with simon at 6 and if all goes well, then you'll have lost your chance."

"fuck." he checked his phone and ran down the stairs quickly, throwing in and "i gotta go." on the way down. he grabbed his keys and ran to his car. fearing that he could lose y/n, he felt the car speeding up and when he pulled onto the familiar street, he got nervous and looked at the clock

4:58 pm

he parked in her driveway and knocked on her door. when she answered it, she smiled.

"oh hey matt. what's up?"

"we need to talk." he gently pushed himself past her and went to her kitchen to grab a root beer from the fridge.

"okay. and i repeat. what's up?"

"why didn't you tell me you had a date with simon?"

"what do you mean?"

"nick told me that you had a date with simon tonight. at 6. why didn't you tell me about it?"

"that was last night, matt."

"oh.

"and it wasn't much of a date." she sighed and opened her own bottle of root beer. "it was nice at first but after dinner, we were in his car and he kept putting his hand on my thigh. i told him to quit and he did. at first. but then he kept doing it and each time, his hand went further up." matt watched as y/n's sighed. "i freaked out on him and he called me a prude, then left me on the side of the road. so i walked all the way back here."

"why didn't you call me? i would've come to get you, you know that."

"i was embarrassed and i didn't want you to see me like that." she sighed. "i just felt so.... not good enough."

"okay, no. you don't get to feel that way after defending your own rights. it's ridiculous. he should be the one feeling like shit for the way he treated you. and i swear to god. if i ever see him out in public, i'm kicking his ass."

"matt, relax. it's fine now." y/n set her bottle down and put her hand on his arm. "the fact that you're here is enough to make me feel better."

"good." he looked at her. "for the record, you're more than good enough. he was the one who wasn't good enough for you. i don't think there's anyone alive who deserves you. you're too good of a person."

"well i want to find love eventually, matty." she sighed and looked down at her feet. "i don't want to be too good that nobody deserves me. and i have so much love to give but if nobody deserves me, then who am i gonna give it to?"

"give it to me."

"huh?" she looked up with wide eyes, not believing the words she had just heard.

"give your love to me. i know i am far from worthy but i can definitely do better than simon or any other guy in your life. i've built up so much love for you for the past 10 years and not being able to express it has been killing me. you are the single greatest thing in my life and i don't want anyone else to be with you."

"matt, are you serious?"

"100% serious." matt placed his hand gently on the side of her face. "god, i have loved you since i was 10 years old and you were my first kiss. new years day of 2013 was a life changer for me. it awakened love that i didn't think was possibly so young. and when i was going to tell you, you told me you had a crush on justin. not gonna lie, i cried that night. it sucked so bad." he chuckled. "but i've struggled to come up with a good way to tell you how i've been feeling. it sucked having to watch you with other guys for 10 years."

"matt, i love you. so much. your stupid face. your stupid smile. your stupid tattoos. even though none of you is actually stupid." y/n smiled. "i've loved you since your 9th birthday. and on new years when you asked if you were my last pick for the kiss, i lied. you were my first pick but i didn't want to seem too eager. and i also lied about kissing donnie ryder before break. all he did was kiss my cheek and wish me a merry christmas. you were my first real kiss."

"i hated donnie ryder for years because of that." matt chuckled. "but im glad i was your first."

"we may have been 10 but if i recall correctly, you were the best kiss i've ever had. and i've kissed a lot of guys since then."

"okay, i didn't need to know that. i just confessed my love to you and you're telling me there's been many guys as if i didn't know already." matt smirked. "but i do like that i was the best one."

"i think i need a new sample."

"oh is that so?" matt looked down at y/n as she inched closer. "if a new sample is what you want, then it's what you'll get.

he pulled her in and placed his lips on hers gently. she kissed back immediately and when she smirked into the kiss, matt wrapped his arms around her hips and deepened the kiss.

more than 10 years of feelings was being poured out into the kiss and it was the best kiss either of them had ever had.

"since i was your first kiss, can i also be your last?" matt asked in a low whisper as he pulled away slowly.

"yes. absolutely. a thousand times yes." y/n smirked and kissed him again. and again.

they couldn't get enough of each other and their unspoken commitment to each other was all they needed.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

taglist: @worldlxvlys @fearfam69691

[freedomfireflies]

Better Not Pout*

Summary: The one where Harry isn't leaving until he gets what he really came for.

You.

Word Count: 10.6k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, violence, guns, gunplay, exhibitionism (This one-shot is a bit darker, so please only read if you feel comfortable! 💞)

December 24th, 1945.

The streets of Chicago are cold. Windy. Dark. Everyone is either at home, visiting loved ones, or spending their Christmas Eve at the one place they know they’ll be welcome.

The Bees Knees – the renowned, underground speakeasy – is rather sparkling tonight. The customers continue to bustle in, some here for the booze, some here for the atmosphere and warmth, and some for the entertainment.

You.

You’re one of the establishments best performers, three nights of the week. Employed by none other than Johnny Winters himself to sing for the lost souls of Chicago as they drown their worries in a bottle of whiskey.

You quite like your job, and the people you work with. Milton, who tends the bar, always has a compliment to lend, offering you engaging small talk between sets or any new mixes he might make.

And Johnny isn’t so bad. But perhaps you’re a bit biased, seeing as he is your fiancé. But more than that, he’s one of the most powerful men in all of town. And considerably wealthy, which you suppose doesn’t exactly hurt.

But he’s also kind. Giving. And so very attentive. He spends every second he’s not working with you. Doting on you, showing you off to all of his friends. And having such a handsome man on your arm is certainly not the worst thing.

Tonight, however, Johnny is nowhere to be found. Which you don’t consider to be too terribly odd, given how much work he mentioned he’d be catching up on. 

Even still, he hates to miss your performances, and insisted that you keep a part of him with you as you take center stage tonight in the small bar.

That part happens to be in the form of a stunning red, silk dress that was gifted to you for this very occasion. It sits on your frame like it was always meant to be yours, hugging every desirable curve, and showcasing just enough skin to taunt the imagination of those in the audience.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt so beautiful, and you walk up the steps tonight with pride. Shoulders back and painted lips poised with your first song.

The few gentlemen scattered across the main floor holler when the spotlight finds you, and you offer your signature smile.

“Evening, gentleman,” you call as the pianist begins behind you. “How are you all doing tonight?”

A few whistles are offered that make you laugh, and just like that…the show begins.

Santa Claus Came in the Spring is always a favorite, and you croon the festive lyrics while the live band follows your lead.

And even though the crowd is rather dull and distracted, you have a blast. You feel comfortable in this role and in the way their eyes drink you in. Even if their attention drifts between you, their drinks, and the cigars.

In fact, you get so swept up in your act that you hardly notice the door open or the tall, lanky stranger that slinks in from the cold.

But when his head lifts, and his eyes find yours, you feel a hitch in your throat.

Unfortunately, he looks away all too quickly, pulling off his trench coat before moving along the shadows toward the far end of the bar.

He goes unnoticed by those around him, yet your attention follows him all the way to the booth that he settles in. And it stays even after he’s leaned back, gotten comfortable, and pulled a cigarette from his rather expensive looking suit pocket.

But even though your focus has drifted, you don’t miss a single beat of the song. After all, you could sing it in your sleep, and this habit serves you well as the intriguing stranger finally shifts into the light and allows you a better look at his face.

He’s…stunning. Absolutely beautiful, with his slicked back curls, sharp jaw, and pointed nose. And he’s lighting the end of a cigarette with what you can only call practiced precision before perching it between his two, crimson-colored lips. 

Rings adorn his fingers as he holds the nicotine to his mouth, inhaling a long drag before exhaling the dark smoke from his lungs.

Yet unlike the other patrons in the bar, this man seems to be rather put together. He’s not missing any teeth, his skin isn’t stained with dirt or grease, and his clothes appear to be rather new. It’s quite the upgrade from the usual appearance you’ve grown used to, and you can’t help but feel rather relaxed.

And it’s now that you realize that this striking stranger seems to be watching you much like you’re watching him. Studying your dress, your silhouette, the way you grip the microphone stand. He takes in each detail presented before him with what looks to be wonder, and your cheeks instantly grow warm.

Still, you carry on with the ballad, making your way through the final chorus and the last few notes as the band plays you out with a flourish.

The few men in front of the stage clap, and you smile gratefully as you nod your thanks and call out your appreciation.

Jingle Bells is next, and a few more people join in on the fun this time around. They clink their glasses together or belt out the lyrics a few seconds too late and wildly off-key.

Even still, it’s rather fun as you continue on with your set before finally wrapping it up with a high note that’s accompanied by a rather lively trumpet solo.

And once it’s all over, the room bursts into applause. You wave to the growing audience, taking a quick bow before gesturing toward the band. Offering them their due praise which the crowed quickly obliges.

But you notice the man in the booth keeps his expression indifferent as he continues to watch you exit the stage and make your way to the bar. He doesn’t applaud your performance or even offer a smile of encouragement. He merely takes another hit of his cigarette and throws his arm over the back of his seat. A position you imagine is intended to display dominance more than it is to find comfort.

Truth be told, you find it rather unnerving. He doesn’t seem to be here for the alcohol or the company. Perhaps he’s only here to get out of the cold or perhaps he’s avoiding his home.

Either way, his focus stays only with you, and you feel a sharp chill run down your spine as you turn to the counter and flag down Milton’s attention.

You ask for a drink and request that he tell Johnny that you’ll be waiting in his office until he arrives. 

He quickly agrees, preparing the beverage for you before jutting his chin toward the silent stranger.

“Want me to have him escorted out?” he asks, but you only smile as you shake your head.

“No need, I’m sure he’s harmless.” You take the crystal glass and tip it toward him in thanks. “Besides, the attention is rather nice.”

Milton nods his understanding and you leave it at that, taking your drink toward the hallway just off the corner of the room.

You sip leisurely as you stroll to Johnny’s office, picking up the edge of your long gown so it doesn’t drag on the floor. The sounds of the crowd grow quieter and quieter with each step you take, and soon, it’s nothing but silence.

After retrieving the key Johnny insisted you keep on you at all times, you slip open the door, and make your way inside.

It’s quite dark, given the time of night and lack of lighting. He’s only got three lamps in the room, one by the window, one on the shelf, and one on his desk.

Right beside a photo of you.

Getting your photograph taken is quite the privilege, but Johnny insisted he have a vision of you in his office at all times. And you couldn’t help but indulge him, allowing him to dress you up and place you in front of the large contraption one Sunday afternoon in spring.

It’s his favorite thing in the entire world, and he mentions it constantly. Commenting on your beauty or your ethereal outfit. You know he’s only trying to embarrass you, but it’s still rather flattering to hear.

You grin to yourself as you take a seat in the large chair behind the wooden table. Downing the rest of the contents in your glass before setting it down and taking a glance around the large space.

Vaguely, you hear footsteps approaching just outside the door. Echoing through the hall as your grin grows a bit wider. 

And as the knob turns, you expect to see the handsome face of your Johnny.

What you don’t expect, however, is the green-eyed devil and his quiet charm.

He’s followed you. You assume this immediately, and your heart leaps into your throat as he steps inside…and shuts the door behind him.

A tense silence settles between you as you slowly sit up and force in a quiet breath. “Hello,” you call quietly.

The sound of your unsteady voice seems to amuse him, the corner of his mouth curling up as the burning cigarette sits tucked between his lips. “Hello, mama.”

You feel your lashes flutter. “Can…can I help you?”

“I’m looking for your fiancé,” he says, and his voice is low. Deep. And you believe you catch just a hint of an English accent. “This is in fact his office, is it not?”

You hesitate, unsure whether or not to disclose such information to a stranger. “It…yes. Yes, but he’s not here right now. Perhaps you could come back later?”

“Later,” he repeats, almost thoughtfully as his head tilts. Then, he tsks. “See, I’m afraid later just doesn’t work for me. I need to speak with him right now. It’s quite urgent, and I’d like to finish this up and be home to my lover by midnight.”

“Oh…” You shift a bit in your seat and hope he doesn’t notice how nervous you’ve become. “Well, I would love to help, but I don’t believe I know when he’ll be in.”

He considers this for a moment before striding further into the room. Eyes tracking every tremble of your fingers and heave of your chest. “Can I tell you a secret, mama?” he murmurs, placing both hands on the desk and leaning closer.

You nod.

“Your boy Johnny owes me money,” he whispers. “And I’m here to collect.”

And now you understand. Now you know why he’s here. Because even though his tone is friendly, it can’t disguise the threat you know lingers underneath. 

“Oh,” you whisper back, and he hums.

“Exactly. And I’m a pretty reasonable guy. Decent. So, I’ll make you a deal.” He begins to smirk behind the cigarette. “If he’s not here within the next five minutes…you and I will find another way.”

The truth is, you don’t really know too much about the financial side of Johnny’s affairs and business. You know he has plenty of money, but you don’t know what he does with it. Or where he keeps it.

And if this alluring stranger seems to think you’ll be his key…you’re afraid he’ll be mistaken.

“Problem, Doll?” He seems smug, and it makes your skin crawl. “M’not scaring you, am I?”

The answer is obvious to you both, but you force yourself straighter and attempt to appear calm. “Not at all, sir. I only want to help.”

"Mm? Good girl,” he mumbles, eyes flicking down to your painted red lips. “Knew you’d behave for me.”

Your heart is hammering inside of your chest. You’re unsure what to do now. Do you ask him to leave? Do you scream for help? Do you call the police?

And where the hell is Johnny?

He should be here by now, especially after promising to wrap up his meeting early in order to catch your last performance before Christmas. He’s always here. One of your biggest fans and greatest protectors. 

The only thing you can truly think to do now is attempt to call him. You figure the police won’t get here in time, but at least if this gentleman can be assured that Johnny is on his way, he won’t be as inclined to act rashly.

However, the moment your fingers lift from the desk in order to reach for the phone, the stranger reaches for something, too.

In a matter of seconds, he’s wrapping his hand around the barrel of a gun, pulling it from his back pocket, and aiming it straight at your head. Cocking it loudly as you gasp and withdraw your arm as quickly as possible.

“What are you doin’, hm, mama?” There’s a haughty condescension in his sneer, laced with just the faintest disappointment. “Thought you were gonna be good.”

“I…I was just going to call him,” you stammer. “I know you’re in a hurry.”

The stranger studies you now, that familiar smirk beginning to fade as his attention flicks across your face. Perhaps he suspects a lie or perhaps he merely doesn’t trust you, but truth be told, you know better than to try and pull a fast one on him. 

Finally, he plucks his cigarette from between his lips before tossing it to the floor and nodding at you. “Yeah? Go on, then,” he instructs, reposition the barrel at your chest. “Call your little pretty boy. Tell him he’s got a visitor.”

With a racing pulse, you once again slowly reach for the telephone, eyeing the gun carefully as you scoot closer.

You’re careful not to make any sudden moments. Hesitant to even look at him for fear of upsetting him, but your timid demeanor only entertains him further.

He simply chuckles as he slowly makes his way over to your side of the desk. Snatching up the phone just before you can reach for it and handing it to you almost cockily.

Curious, you glance up. That soft green in his eye is almost alluring, even despite the circumstance. Still, he reeks of nicotine and expensive cologne, and you lean back in an attempt to put as much space between you as you can.

He smiles. “I’m gonna watch you dial,” he tells you calmly. “Make sure you keep your word. Okay, Doll?”

Posed like a question, although you both know you don’t exactly have a choice. And you'd likely point this out if you were just a touch braver, but nevertheless, you nod. Agreeing to his terms as you take the phone and begin to dial.

As the seconds go by, you feel him watching you closely while the line rings. Leaving you to desperately await the sound of your sweet Johnny’s voice. A sound you’ve never needed more than in this moment.

Yet his voice never comes, and your heart sinks to the cold floor blow as you return the phone to the desk.

“He…he must already be on his way,” you murmur, and the man hums.

“You think so?”

You nod weakly.

He takes a seat on the edge of the desk, just inches from your arm before leaning closer. “How much are you willing to bet, hm?” His brow raises. “How sure are you that your precious fiancé will actually save you tonight?”

You feel trapped by him now. The closer he moves, the faster your heart pounds. You have nowhere to run, no personal space to disappear into. 

But you only have to hold on for just a little longer. Johnny will come for you. He always does.

“Incredibly sure,” you respond, ignoring the slight waver in your voice. “He said he would be, so he will.”

The man considers this before clicking his tongue. “All right. Then how about I make you another deal, yeah? For every minute he’s late, and for every minute he leaves you here unattended…I’ll put an extra bullet through his head.”

A sharp chill runs down your spine, skin growing hot and prickly, but you force your expression to remain unfazed. “And why would you do that if you need him so badly?”

The gentleman laughs now. A sound that would almost be charming if he weren’t so vile. “Because I don’t need your precious Johnny,” he answers calmly. “I just need what’s in his safe.”

And despite the danger you’re in and despite your better judgment, your features scrunch into a grimace as you scoff, “Oh, how pathetic.”

Your reaction loosens his smile.

“Truly, how incredibly pathetic to come all the way down here at this time of night – and on Christmas Eve – just to break into his safe,” you huff. “Honestly. He won’t give you a damn thing. And you have absolutely no business to come storming in here and—”

You don’t get the chance to finish the rest of your furious scolding before he’s suddenly standing to his feet and wrapping his fingers around your arm.

Instantly, you’re yanked from your chair and shoved against the bookcase just behind you. Hard enough to knock the wind from your lungs as he traps you there, leaning in so close, his nose nearly brushes your own. 

“I’d be careful how you fucking speak to me, mama,” he seethes quietly, yet even still, there’s just an air of pleasure. “Because you might not get the chance to do it again.”

He’s desperate to scare you. Desperate to see you cry, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction.

Instead, you suck in a sharp breath, and do the one thing you can think to do:

You spit.

The collection of saliva just misses his eye, landing on his cheek with a rather wet splat until the amusement fades and fury takes its place.

His fingers leave your arm and find your throat, curling around the delicate skin and forcing your head up as he begins to chuckle darkly.

“So, that’s how you wanna play, hm, Doll?” Another tsk. “You wanna be bad? Wanna test my fucking patience?”

You squirm a bit in his hold, yet for some reason, you don’t feel as frightened as you did before. Because there’s this look in his eye – this hunger. And even though his grip is tight…you feel oddly safe.

“Better find a way to keep this pretty little mouth shut,” he says next, head cocking to the left almost curiously. “Or I’ll have to shut it for you.” 

His attention returns to your mouth, fingers slowly slipping up toward your chin until he can brush is thumb over the painted fibers of your lips.

Just enough to taunt you yet startle you all in the same second. 

“Maybe,” you finally breathe before jerking your head away from his cruel touch. “If you knew how.”

The cocky grin widens as his hand immediately returns to your neck. “Still disobeying me, hm?” he nearly purrs. “Guess I could always just squeeze this sweet, little throat to keep you quiet, yeah? Feel your pretty pulse beneath my fingertips. Feel the life drain from your body…watch the light go out in your eyes.”

You take in a strained inhale, and he makes a sound that almost sounds like a groan.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, moving in just a bit closer until his lips are ghosting across yours. “Or maybe…I could put my gun in your mouth. See how chatty you are then, yeah, mama?”

Your chest heaves anxiously, but you find just enough confidence to whisper, “But without your gun, how will everyone know what a tiny cock you have?”

And you’re so proud of yourself. So endlessly pleased with the way you’ve managed to make his smug expression waver, even if he keeps his smirk in place.

“Oh, you think that’s funny,” he snorts as you attempt to bite back a laugh. “Well, you wanna know what I think is funny? I think it’s funny that you said Johnny would be here…and he’s not.”

“He will be,” you retort, a bit firmer. “He will.”

“See…you keep saying that,” he muses, placing one hand on the bookshelf beside your head. Truly trapping you beneath him. “And yet…your noble fiancé still isn’t here to save you.”

You tilt your head back in an attempt to appear stronger, but it doesn’t seem to fool him. 

“Are you afraid?” he whispers, chest brushing against yours. “Are you afraid your Johnny won’t be able to keep you safe from the bad man?”

It’s almost hostile, the way he goads you. And yet you can hear just the slightest concern beneath his question.

“Or maybe you’re afraid he can’t pay up,” he continues. “Maybe you’re afraid he’ll have to find another way.”

Suddenly, the grip on your throat constricts. Recapturing your attention.

“Are you gonna be my other way, mama?” he exhales. “You gonna be my consolation prize?”

You feel dizzy. The room is spinning. And you aren’t sure if that’s because of the hold on your neck or the way he’s speaking to you. 

However, before you can decide if you’re actually intrigued by his intimidation tactics…the sound of footsteps echo outside through the hall.

Johnny.

It has to be him. You almost need it to be him, and your shoulders unwind as the man glances toward the closed door curiously before finally leaning back.

Then, he grabs onto your arm for a second time, and flings you back toward the chair. Shoving you down and keeping you still.

“You’re gonna sit here and you’re gonna keep your fucking mouth shut,” he hisses softly right as the door swings open. “And then maybe…I just might reward you.”

But you don’t even mind this malicious threat because then you see him. Your fiancé, smiling brightly as his eyes find you before they flick to the man to your right.

For a moment, he seems surprised, seemingly assessing your position and the situation before his grin widens. 

“Ah, Mr. Styles,” he calls as he strides into the room, quickly removing his hat and coat. “What a pleasant surprise. Did we have a meeting tonight?”

He seems relaxed. Almost too relaxed, as though he doesn’t view this man as a threat, and you aren’t sure whether to feel relieved or wildly confused. You hadn’t exactly expected him to grab the mysterious guest by the collar and throw him out the window, but you also didn’t expect him to welcome him with open arms. 

A strange man is alone with his future wife, in his office, in the middle of the night, and that doesn’t seem to concern him even a little?

Perhaps Johnny is far too friendly for his own good.

The gentleman, in turn, straightens up while subtly slipping the gun behind his back. Tucking it into his belt just out of view before Johnny can catch it. “Not quite,” he says coolly. “I’m here to discuss a bit of unfinished business.”

Your heart sinks, yet Johnny merely nods. “Ah, I see. Well, is there any way this can wait until after Christmas? It’s been a long night, and I’d like to be getting the lovely lady home.”

Now, both of their stares turn to you, and eagerly, you begin to rise from the chair. Grateful for the opportunity to leave this unsettling stranger behind.

Yet before you can even find your footing, the man’s hand is coming down in a firm smack on your shoulder to force you back down.

“I’m afraid the lovely lady isn’t going anywhere,” he replies, and you catch Johnny’s expression fall. “And neither are you. Have a seat.”

Johnny begins to frown. “Look, Harry, whatever business we might have, I’m sure it can—”

“I said, have…a seat,” the man – Harry – repeats a bit brasher. “Yeah? Or things will get a lot worse for your darling fiancé.”

Johnny hesitates, eyes flicking to yours. But he must notice the panicked look you wear because he finally sighs and does as instructed. Taking a seat in the chair just in front of the desk before glancing toward Harry.

Harry nods, almost proudly. “There you go. S’not so hard, is it?”

Johnny’s figure slumps but his lips purse together. “What do you want?”

“Oh, I just want to talk,” Harry says, his smirk returning. “And lucky for you, your schedule just cleared up.”

“Harry—” Johnny begins, leaning closer as though getting ready to stand.

But instantly, Harry is reaching back behind him for the gun, pulling it free, and aiming the barrel straight at his head.

Johnny quickly leans back, eyeing the weapon hesitantly while you gasp and glance up at the stranger pleadingly.

Harry only looks at Johnny. “See, I’m running out of fucking patience. Eight goddamn months I’ve had to listen to you go on and on about this special fucking shipment you got. And now…it’s time to collect.”

Your sweet fiancé understands now. Realizes why this man is here and how real the threat is, and glances back at you almost apologetically.

You merely mouth, “It’s okay.”

Johnny’s eyes flick back to the gun. “I’d be careful waving that thing around. Somebody might get hurt.”

The man merely hums. “Oh, I’m fucking counting on it.”

Now, the office grows quiet. A tense, charged sort of energy that filters between the three of you as Harry begins to walk around the desk.

“So,” he continues, grabbing onto the other free chair in order to spin it around and sit in a straddle, “where’s the safe, Johnny?”

Johnny’s brow raises, but his Adam’s apple bobs with a thick swallow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do. Down at the club, you said you just got a brand new, fancy safe to hold everything from your latest shipment. Practically bragged about it to the whole goddamn bar, yeah? So…where is it?”

With piqued interest, you look between the two men curiously as you await Johnny’s answer. You’ve never really been sure where he gets all his money. You assumed most of it came from the bar and alcohol sales, so you’re rather stumped by what sort of shipment they might be referring to.

However, Johnny isn’t so quick to divulge all his secrets. “And what is it you’re expecting to get out of my safe, Mr. Styles?”

There’s another heavy pause as Harry rests his arms over the back of the seat and whispers, “Everything.”

Instantly, Johnny scoffs. “You think you can storm into my office on Christmas Eve and threaten my fiancé? Threaten me? That you’re entitled to anything you damn well please?” A bitter scoff as he leans back. “You’ll be arrested before morning, and you’ll never see a red fucking cent.”

 His retort dangles between them for only a moment as a breath catches in your throat. Pulse racing as you watch the stranger’s reaction closely.

Yet the mystery man doesn’t so much as flinch as he suddenly repositions the gun into the air, aims it just to the left of Johnny’s head, and fires.

The sound is deafening, much like your sharp, shrill shriek as the bullet flies through the air – just missing Johnny’s ear – and lodges into the wall behind him.

Johnny immediately flinches, eyes screwing shut and muscles recoiling before he seems to realize that he remains unharmed.

And once he does, he takes a deep breath, and begins to smirk. “You missed.”

“Did I?” Harry runs his tongue over his bottom lip before re-cocking the gun. “No, see…I never fucking miss. That was your first warning.” 

Johnny simply snorts. “Yeah? Well, eat my shit.”

Things move quickly from there.

Harry is instantly on his feet, tossing the chair aside rather angrily before he’s turning to you once more. And you don’t even have a moment to think before you’re being yanked from the seat for a second time and immediately tugged to his chest as he presses the barrel of the gun into the side of your temple. 

“Where’s the fucking safe, Johnny?” he says again, and you notice Johnny’s face pale.

“Styles,” Johnny murmurs, “you don’t have to do this—”

“The safe,” he seethes. “Where is it? Or do you need a little incentive, huh? Need to see her pretty little brains all over your goddamn floor? Is that what it’s gonna take?”

Poor Johnny doesn’t know what to do. He looks from the gun, to your face, to the arm keeping you hostage.

And you almost feel bad for him, yet you aren’t even afforded the chance for empathy before Harry furiously growls and shoves you in Johnny’s direction.

You stumble across the wooden floor until Johnny can quickly take you into his embrace, keeping you safe from the bad man as you begin to sniffle.

“My love,” he whispers, tightening his hold on your trembling frame while turning you away as if to protect you. “It’s gonna be all right, I promise.”

With a quick nod and a hiccup, you look up and slip your hands around his neck for comfort. “I know.”

He smiles.

It’s Harry’s disgusted sneer that brings you attention back. “Fucking pathetic. Really, mama? This is who you choose to save you?”

Your features fall ever-so-slightly while Johnny begins to pull you behind him, shielding you from the aggravated aggressor. “If you need money so badly, there are plenty of other ways.”

“It’s not just about money,” Harry retorts calmly. “It’s about your money. Yeah? So where’s the fucking safe.”

“None of your goddamn business—”

The reply no sooner leaves his mouth before there’s another gunshot fired into the air. 

One of the paintings on the wall falls with a crack and you jump almost two feet into the air, nails scratching down Johnny’s nice shirt.

“Johnny,” you whisper faintly, refusing to let this go on any longer. “Johnny, tell him. Tell him, please. I don’t care about the money; I don’t care about any of it. I just want you. I love you, and I can’t lose you.”

The office falls silent as you request hangs in the air, and you feel Johnny take in a deep breath.

“Yeah, Johnny,” Harry adds in a condescending murmur. “She loves you. Don’t make her watch you die. It’d be such a shameful waste of her tears.”

Johnny looks to you, and your expression softens. “It’s okay,” you tell him. “It’s okay, I promise.”

Finally, he sighs. “Under the desk.”

Harry’s head whips toward the large table curiously before he frowns. “Where?” he murmurs before repositioning the gun at Johnny’s chest. “I promise you don’t wanna lie to me.”

However, Johnny’s indifferent expression remains. “Under the desk,” he repeats while thrusting his chin toward the massive piece of furniture. 

And now Harry seems to understand, although it does little to relax him as he suddenly reaches for you again and yanks you from your lovers’ arms.

“Show me,” he hisses, keeping you hostage again while ushering Johnny forward with the barrel of the weapon. “And don’t be dense.”

And Johnny can do nothing but obey, seemingly defeated while sending you one last remorseful look. Finally moving to lift the desk and pull it back.

The sound of wood scraping against wood is heavy, and it takes him quite a while to relocate the table beneath the window by himself. 

But once it’s out of the way, you notice a particular part of the flooring juts out. The rotten board almost askew.

You and Harry lean closer, both magnetized by intrigue as he bends down in order to wrench the board up, revealing the hollow hiding place underneath.

And there you find it. The large, black box with a gold dial in the middle.

He glances up toward Harry, perhaps looking for permission – which Harry quickly gives him – before reaching down to put in the correct combination.

And after a couple seconds of clicking and turning…the door swings open.

Truth be told, you were hoping to find a secret gun that might help you out of this situation, but it seems there are no weapons to be found as Harry shoves you back in order to get a better look.

He no longer seems concerned about Johnny or the possibility that he might attempt to attack because Johnny seems to have given up. 

All your dejected fiancé does is straighten up and motion you back to him, watching Harry bend over and reach inside the safe almost uninterestedly. 

Your heart aches for him, yet you can’t help feeling relieved. You’re a few steps closer to this wretched night being over, and perhaps once Harry has what he came for, you’ll be able to leave.

“Are you all right?” Johnny whispers to you now as Harry begins to unload the contents in the floor. 

You nod quickly, clinging to his strong frame as though you’re scared you might be taken again. “Yes, I’m all right. Are you?”

“I will be once I know you’re safe,” he says, and your heart sinks.

Once everything inside the safe has been shoved into a bag, Harry turns to the two of you. “That was a good start, Winters. Now where’s the rest of it?”

Johnny frowns. “I don’t know what you mean. Everything I have is in there.”

But Harry only tsks as he sets the items down and begins to stride closer, making you curl even further into Johnny’s embrace. “Come on, now,” he mumbles almost tauntingly. “You know what I really want. And you know that you’re gonna fucking tell me. Isn’t that right, mama?”

He looks to you for only a moment as you swallow. 

Johnny begins to seethe. “No. No, you can have everything else, but you won’t touch that.”

“Johnny,” you try, unnerved by the sudden look of warning in Harry’s eye. “Johnny, please…just give it to him. Whatever it is, I don’t care, just…just make him leave.”

“Smart girl,” Harry adds. “Come on, Johnny boy, your darling fiancé is scared. Don’t you wanna save her?”

Your lover simply grows stiff, eyes narrowing at the faux sincerity in the stranger’s voice.

“Johnny,” you mumble again. “Johnny, please, he’s right. I’m scared and I don’t care about what you have or what you don’t have. I just want you. And I want him to go away.”

Still, Johnny wrestles with his decision. With the choice he’s being forced to make, and as the seconds go by, Harry’s patience reaches its limit.

He grabs for you – again. Forcing the weapon under your jaw this time around as Johnny’s muscles tense and his fingers curl into his fist.

“God, look at him,” Harry whispers to you now, lips ghosting up the shell of your ear while forcing your eyes on your fiancé. “Fucking look at your pathetic excuse for a man.”

You attempt to remain indifferent – appear unafraid – but he sees right through you.

“D’you really think he cares about you, Doll?” he murmurs. “Do you really think he’ll choose your life over his own?”

“Let her go,” Johnny barks, yet it only forces the barrel even further into your skin.

Your chin is tilted up, a sharp inhale getting caught in your throat until Harry begins to chuckle.

“How about this,” he says. “I’ll let you choose, mama. I’ll let you decide if he gets to watch me kill you…or if he gets to watch me take you. All for myself.”

“Fucking piece of shit—” Johnny hisses, but Harry simply tsks.

“So, what do you say? What’ll it be? Either way, I’ll have him on his goddamn knees by the end of the night. And then we all win, yeah?”

“Enough,” Johnny yells, and a strangled silence splits the air. “Fine. Fine, I’ll tell you. Just let her go.”

Harry’s arm begins to lower but not very far. “Once it’s in my hand, she’s all yours.”

And you want to resent these men for treating you like you’re some sort of object to be traded, yet you’d happily be given back to your lover if it meant you could leave this nightmare behind.

No matter the cost.

Johnny rolls his shoulders back and flicks his unrelenting stare back to his desk. “There. The picture.”

You feel your eyebrows raise while Harry slowly begins to loosen his hold on you.

“Get it,” he instructs, and with an aggravated sigh, Johnny obliges.

He retrieves the golden frame from the table before pulling open the back and removing the picture inside.

The picture of you.

It almost breaks your heart, the look on his face. Like he’s absolutely gutted to be defiling this memory of you both, and you ache to comfort him.

Once the photo has been plucked from the glass, you catch the faintest sparkle in the soft light of the moon, and hear yourself gasp.

There, sitting snug inside the small frame, is the biggest fucking diamond you’ve ever seen.

It’s…stunning. The most gorgeous jewel you’ve ever been privileged to lay eyes on, surrounded by what you can only assume to be hundreds of tinier diamonds and rubies arranged in a delicate but intricate pattern. 

Altogether creating the most breathtaking necklace you’ve ever seen.

It has to be worth hundreds of dollars – thousands, in fact – and Harry reaches over to take it from the frame with the biggest Cheshire-like grin you’ve ever seen.

This is what he came for.

“You have it, all right? You have it, now go,” Johnny calls, already attempting to reach for you. “You got what you want.”

With an agreeable hum, Harry studies the necklace a moment longer before finally looking to you. “You’re right. We did, didn’t we?”

You both smile.

Instantly, you raise the gun that Harry had discreetly and secretly slipped into your hand only moments ago and aim it at Johnny’s chest.

Three.

Johnny’s expression shifts, eyes widening as he begins to piece together what’s really going on. Why Harry looks so proud and why you look so relieved.

Two.

His lips part. Ready to speak to you, whisper your name, ask for an explanation. And a part of you can’t help but wonder if you’ll feel any remorse for the deception you’ve put him through these past few months.

But as you stare at him now…you feel nothing but liberation.

One.

The third and final gunshot echoes through the air. Louder and far more permanent. Resolute.

Johnny stumbles back, unable to catch himself before he goes tumbling to the ground. A dark red stain expanding like watercolor across his chest, ruining the clean white shirt underneath.

You’d bought him that shirt.

And as the look of life slowly leaves his eye, you feel your muscles unwind, and your shoulders droop.

It’s over.

Harry’s got his arms around you before you can even release the deep breath you’ve been holding onto for so long. 

“Oh, good fucking girl,” he nearly groans, pressing his lips to yours for the first time in months as you sling your arms around his neck. “Fucking hell, I missed you, mama.”

If Harry had had it his way, Johnny would have been dead months ago. He never liked this plan – not because he thought you couldn’t handle it, but because the idea of going without you for so long nearly killed him.

But it was the only way to gain Johnny’s trust. And to find his true weakness. He never would have given you the location of the safe or the necklace if you’d simply held him at gunpoint from the get-go.

No, he needed a reason to cave, a reason to put his possessions on the line in order to save something else he truly cared about.

And that’s where you came in.

Sure, it was hard to be without Harry, but you knew it had to be done. Getting these items would set you up for years. You’d never have to work in sleazy bars again. You could simply be with him…forever.

And perhaps pretending to be a stranger to him and appear frightened of his intentions wasn’t quite necessary, but you happen to like the roleplaying aspect. 

The way he threatened your life as though he wouldn’t do everything in his power to protect it. The way he taunted you, teased you, scared you…when he knew deep down how much you fucking loved it.

You can still feel his fingers around your neck. The pressure of his hand against your throat, holding you still, keeping you close. You hadn’t felt it in months and a part of you wanted to keep the game going for just a bit longer if it meant you could have him.

You weren’t able to run into his arms and kiss him the way you can now and it’s…perfect. Absolutely perfect.

“Did he hurt you?” he whispers, leaving a trail of kisses along your jaw. “Did he fucking touch you—”

“No,” you’re quick to assure him. “No, never. He wanted to, but I never let him.”

“Good.” He takes hold of your hip and gives it a firm squeeze. “Good girl, knew you’d be on your best behavior, yeah?”

You grin. “Of course. Only ever thought about you.”

“Is that right, doll?”

“Mhm.” You tuck your lip between your teeth and nuzzle your nose to his. “How could it ever be him?”

His lashes flutter, and you can see the edges of his frayed sanity coming loose. He’s had to pretend for far too long, and you don’t imagine he can do it much longer.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, nearly clawing at your dress. “Then, maybe I’ll—”

“What…did you do?”

The sound of Milton’s confusion pulls you apart instantly. He’s standing in the doorway, eyes wide, expression horrified. Looking from his boss, to you, to Harry, and back.

He sees the necklace on the desk, sees the gun in your hand, sees the bag of gold and cash lying at Harry’s feet.

He understands, and your heart almost sinks. Milton was one of the good ones.

Quickly, Harry takes the weapon from you and points it in Milton’s direction.

Milton only leans back with a soft inhale while you turn to your lover and whisper, “No. No, not him.”

Harry’s pursed lips and furrowed brows never waver. “What?”

“Not him,” you repeat, as firmly as you can.

And he hesitates for only a moment before dropping the weapon and nodding his chin at you. “Grab the bag and go out the window.”

You nod your understanding before stealing one last glance at the bartender by the door.

He’s heartbroken and terrified…but his features grow softer as he finally mumbles, “…five minutes. I’ll give you five minutes.”

And you can’t help but smile.

You rush to grab what you came for and hurry to the window, with Harry right behind you. You don’t have a lot of time. Once Milton makes the call to the police, you’ll need to be far enough away that they can’t find you.

You know they’ll be looking. Know they won’t stop until they find you both – after all, they’ve been searching for you for years.

But you don’t mind a life that’s on the run, as long as it’s with him. 

And the pleased smile he offers you now only confirms this.

You quickly lift the hem of your dress and begin over the ledge, with Harry right beside you to help. He takes your hand for support, keeping you steady until you can safely drop to the ground outside before he’s following suit.

The moment his feet hit the ground, you both run. The Chicago air is cold – frigid. You don’t have enough clothes to truly cover you and your feet are sore from having to wear these outrageous shoes all night.

But you somehow feel…alive. Invigorated and so very free. You have everything you’ve ever wanted.

You have him.

You both slip along the shadows as you make your way through town, leaving the speakeasy and Johnny Winters behind. After a minute or two, you hear the sirens in the distance, and the stakes are raised. They grow louder and louder the closer they get, and it’s then that Harry recaptures your hand and tugs you into a dark alleyway for cover.

This is where you stay until the cars have zipped down the street and proceeded without you. They don’t even think to look for you here and you’re rather impressed with your lover’s quick thinking.

Harry, however, isn’t as quick to revel in the success. Continuingly peeking around the corner in order to watch for anything unusual. Ignoring your amused laughter and giddy grin of accomplishment.

He’s on edge. Alert. Ready to run again if need be, and while you rather admire his practiced precision, you hope to put it to better use. 

You drop the bag near the wall and make your way for him, palms quickly finding his cheeks in order to pull his attention to you.

He grunts. “What?”

But you don’t answer with words. You answer with a kiss. A kiss that makes your stomach flip and your mind grow fuzzy.

And this seems to be explanation enough as he groans with approval and wraps his arms around your middle to keep you against his chest. Nipping and licking at you as though his life depends on it.

Perhaps it does.

He shoves you back against the brick after only a few seconds, finding the leverage he needs in order to deepen the kiss and truly claim you. In a way he’d been desperate to the moment he saw you sitting in that office in such a beautiful dress.

“Trying to distract me, hm?” he murmurs, and you can’t help but smile. “Yeah? Or did you just need me that badly?”

He spins you around, pressing your cheek to the cold blocks of clay before dancing his fingers down your spine. Indulging in you.

It makes your insides twist.

You feel the hem of your dress gather in his fist as he finally gets a proper look at what he’s been missing for months. And the sound he makes goes straight to your cunt.

“You filthy fucking thing,” he whispers, rather delightedly while moving in to trail his mouth along your neck. “Look at you. Look at how perfect you are.”

His fingers find your pussy, stroking over your covered slit once or twice before plucking the covering from your hips and dragging it down your thighs. 

“Just dripping for me, yeah? All fucking night.” He drags his palm up the inside of your leg. “Power makes you weak, doesn’t it, mama?”

You nod desperately, unable to answer with words.

But he understands, smirking to himself rather deviously before his hands are tangling in your hair in order to yank your head back. Just to hear you choke on a whine. “I’ve waited months for this. Yeah? M’gonna take my time with you…gonna make it worth it.”

And you don’t doubt that you will.

You nod again as the sound of his leather belt coming undone echoes between your ears. You’re trembling with anticipation, body aching for the feel of his cock. It’s been far too long, and you’ve nearly withered away without him.

You imagine he feels about the same, already fisting himself in one hand and readjusting your dress in the other. You hear him mumble something under his breath – you’re not quite sure what. But you suppose it doesn’t matter. He can say whatever he likes as long as he gives you what you need. 

Normally, he’d take his time. He loves to make a show out of ruining you, but there’s no chance for that tonight. No patience. So, he kicks your feet apart, grabs your hip, and eases himself in all before you can take a breath.

And it’s perfect. Exactly the way you remember. The stretch, the scratch, the desperation. Nobody feels the way he does, and you both know it.

He’s still for a moment, merely pushing himself in and watching your pussy swallow him whole. As if so overcome by the sensation that he can’t do much else. As if losing control over his own body.

So, you push against his chest to remind him you’re here while your fingers reach back for his hair in order to tug it softly.

You feel him smile against your cheek. “All fucking night,” he whispers the moment he’s buried to the hilt. “Knew exactly what you were doing, didn’t you?”

You grin as well. You’re rather happy he noticed.

“Spitting in my fucking face,” he continues. “Challenging me. Acting like a fucking brat. S’all cause you were so fucking needy for me, wasn’t it, mama?”

“Maybe,” you can’t help but retort. “Maybe I knew you’d like it.”

He laughs now. A low, deep, sadistic sound from the back of his throat. Using his hold on your scalp to force your head into his shoulder. “Is that right, hm?”

You only nod.”

“Yeah? Then say it,” he hisses. “Tell me you missed me. Tell me you missed my cock. That nobody fucks you like I do—”

He accompanies this request with his first, sharp thrust. Pulling back only to drive himself in so hard, the air is nearly knocked from your lungs.

“Because they can’t, can they?” he coos, yet it’s angry. Fingers moving from your hair to your neck. Squeezing until you gasp. “Nobody knows how to treat this little pussy like I do. Do they?”

You fall mute. Going limp in his hold as the pleasure begins to build.

“You love it when I fuck you like this.” His nose presses to your cheek as he breathes, your delicate throat a plaything in his touch. “Love it when I kill for you. Love it when I make you mine—”

You gasp at the ecstasy, hardly able to hear him, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You love me,” he murmurs, and you just about disappear into his embrace.

“I do,” you gasp, almost too loudly. “I do, Harry, please—"

“Quiet,” he hisses, glancing now toward the street in order to make sure the police haven’t found their way to you. “You know better than that. You’ll take me and you’ll do it quietly. Understood?”

Your only response is to whimper pitifully while your nails scratch down the brick walls of the alley.

In turn, he grasps onto your jaw, forcing your head to the side until your eyes can meet. “I said, is that fucking understood?”

“I thought you said to be quiet,” you can’t help but retort, and he hums.

“Oh, is that how you wanna play it?” He releases your throat only to take hold of your hips once more and spin you around between thrusts. Quickly returning to his place between your thighs before lifting one of your legs and hiking it around his waist.

“What…” you begin, chest heaving as the tip of his cock drags down your clit. “What are you—” 

“Had to see you,” is his gritted response. “Had to see this pretty, bratty face as I ruined you.”

You imagine you’d smile if you weren’t so close to coming apart, but he understands. Pressing his forehead to yours before reaching up toward the top of your dress and ripping the fabric down to reveal your chest. 

You can tell he’s been wanting to do this all night. Know he’s been ogling your tits from behind the expensive fabric since the moment he walked in, and truth be told, that’s the real reason you wore it. 

Not because Johnny loves you in red.

But because Harry deserved to look at something pretty.

The cold air meets your skin with an unforgiving fervor, and you squirm against the brick as Harry’s eyes fall to the tattered fabric lying so pathetically on your chest.

Instantly, his head dips, mouth leaving open and sloppy kisses to the beautiful pair before him. Tongue stroking the hardened nipples rather respectfully, all things considered.

In turn, you run a hand through his dark curls as he does this to you. As you watch him take whatever he wants. Feeling the way his hair moves like butter between your fingers. The way he hums against you. The way his lashes flutter.

You’ve missed this.

Then, your grip tightens, and you yank his head up until his lips can meet yours. And you take. Take the taste of him, the taste of you, and the taste of victory.

His palm comes up to rest against the wall beside your head. Steadying himself as he works to find that perfect rhythm again. Over and over and over.

And all you can do is move your anxious kisses to his throat as he fucks into you. Whispering, “Nobody, baby. Nobody feels like you do. Nobody.”

Your fingers trail down his strong back, feeling each muscle that dips and flexes as he moves. The way he grunts when you scratch your nails down his spine. The way he consumes you and succumbs to you all at once.

Johnny was beautiful, but Harry is a beast. You’ve never seen a man like this before – never felt a man like this before. Every curve of his body is ethereal. Every detail, every touch.

Your touch continues to move lower and lower down his strong frame until you find something at the base of his spine.

And it makes you grin.

You slip it from his belt with ease, feeling the way it sits firmly in your hand as though it were made for it.

Harry doesn’t seem to notice. Or perhaps he just doesn’t care with the way he’s so deep into you. Emotionally, physically.

But he’s quickly pulled from his pleasured trance the moment he feels the familiar, cool touch of his gun sweeping across his jaw.

He stills. Straightening up ever-so-slightly, eyes finding yours.

But you’re too busy gazing at the barrel that dances across that beautiful face. 

After all, he got to have his fun this evening.

Now it’s your turn.

You bring it to a stop just under his chin, tilting his head up exactly the way he’d done to you earlier as he releases a deep breath.

“Mama…” he warns, but you only hum.

This isn’t the first time this deadly weapon has made this an unofficial threesome, but it is certainly the first time you’ve been the one to wield it.

You hate guns. You do. But you love Harry’s. The way he holds it. The way he handles it. The way he uses great care and great power.

Because there’s something about seeing him with it. Seeing the way he controls it, controls the room. The way he holds someone’s life in the palm of his hand…

Perhaps you should be concerned by how enamored you are by it. By him.

But not tonight. Tonight, you simply enjoy.

And from the look in his eye, he seems to be enjoying it, too.

After all, you know he loved watching you use it on Johnny. Know he almost had you right then and there, on Johnny’s desk, before the mission was even through.

He’s endlessly pleased with you, and you can’t help but use this to your advantage.

So, with the weapon still taut to his clenched jaw, you lean forward and ghost your lips over his. “What’s the matter, Daddy? Does power make you weak?”

The twitch of his cock is answer enough.

You go in for the kill. With your fingers dancing over the trigger button, you lean back and dip down before dragging your tongue up the length of the barrel.

His eyes nearly roll back, and the sound that leaves his chest is euphoric. You think you might just kill him.

Because you’re slow. Meticulous. Licking every inch of the weapon until you finally reach the tip still tucked just beneath his chin.

Then…you kiss him.

And he’s so overwhelmed that he growls into your mouth, no longer threatened by the gun at his throat. Instead grabbing onto the back of your neck in order to squeeze it tight and keep you close. Devour you the way he’s been so frantic to.

You don’t even realize that you’ve begun to lower the gun until you feel it snatched from your grasp.

And pressed tightly to your clit.

The cold surface of the weapon against the warmest part of your body has you arching your back with a whimper. He has the upper hand once more, and he’s certainly not about to waste it. Mouth curling up into a satisfied, smug grin at the way your expression has gone hazy.

You’ve never looked at another man the way you look at him and he knows it.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asks softly, adding just enough pressure to make you whine. “All fucking night? The moment you saw me? Saw my gun? Wanted me to fuck you with it?”

Your nails meet your chest, scratching down the frigid skin in a desperate attempt to find something to ground you.

His only response is to drag the tip of the weapon down just a bit further. Until he can watch it glisten in you.

“Fucking looking at you,” he muses beneath a strained exhale, enamored by the way you subconsciously begin to grind on it. “So desperate to feel it. To be fucked by it. And what if I do, hm? What if I fuck you with my gun right here in this alleyway?”

You only whisper his name and an airy, “Please…”

“I thought about it,” he continues quietly, nose brushing yours as he slips the soaked barrel back up your cunt. “Thought about ripping off this pathetic little dress and fucking you right in front of your precious fiancé.”

You wish he had.

“You’d have liked that, wouldn’t you, mama?” His fingers drum against the handle. “Yeah? I know you would. Would have loved to watch him watch me.”

And he’s not wrong. He hardly ever is when it comes to your darkest fantasies, and it’s just one of the many reasons why you love him.

“But I had to wait,” he tells you now, finally pulling the gun away from your dripping clit until you nearly crumple to the cold concrete below. “Because after all this time…I’m the only thing that gets to fill you tonight, yeah?”

You simply nod again as he brings the gun back to your mouth with a proud grin.

And you know exactly what he wants, swiping your tongue all along the barrel and tasting every drop, every indication of your need for him. Swallowing it all as he watches proudly.

The moment you’re finished, he takes the gun and returns it to his pocket, tucking it away safely. Because he’s right again, and you need to feel him far more than you’ve ever needed anything else.

So, you grasp onto his face and bring his lips to yours, allowing him to pick up right where he left off.

Because as much as you love the power…you love being weak for him more.

At least in moments like this.

He fills you and fucks you until you’re dizzy. Until you can taste the pleasure and the unraveling. 

You make a show of it. A way to apologize for all the time lost. Trailing the tips of your fingers along your own chest and down your sternum until you notice you have his attention.

He watches you take your tit into your palm before you’re tweaking the hardened nipple with a soft whine. Allowing your head to drop back into the wall while you do it again and again.

And he’s an angry sort of infatuated. Groaning almost pitifully before kissing you again and easily swatting your hand away in order to do it himself.

But that’s still not enough. So, you play your ace, and move your touch down to your clit in order to pinch it exactly the way he likes.

And it’s beautiful. The most exhilarating feeling, and this is what sends him over. The feel of your pussy clamping down on his cock, the sight of your fingers against your clit, the sound of your pathetic whimpers and pants as you cry out his name.

He fills you before he can stop himself, kissing you quickly as he releases into your aching, abused cunt. 

Claiming you in more ways than one until you have no choice but to follow.

It rips you apart in the same way he ripped the dress. Until you see stars, and your back arches, and your toes curl. And everything makes sense.

He works to make it last for as long as he can, and once it’s all over, there’s a soft, tender moment of silence as you work to catch your breath.

You forget about everything else. The sirens, the lies, the deceit. Even Johnny. You forget about it all.

Because you got more than a diamond necklace tonight.

You got Harry back.

After a second or two more, you lazily reach up to sweep some of his rogue curls from his forehead. Wanting to really see his eyes as he holds you tonight.

“Harry?” you whisper into the cold, dark alley.

He hums. “Yes, mama?”

“I love you.”

And you’ve never seen him so happy. “I love you more,” he breathes, kiss you again as if to cement this vow.

Eventually, the moment comes to pass, and you have to drop your leg back down to the floor and part from him. You find that your muscles are sore, and just a touch achey, but you don’t even mind. Because it’s somehow just as deliciously pleasurable.

Harry works to readjust your dress and keep you covered; despite the way he’s ruin the expensive fabric. He offers you his jacket – insists on it. Wrapping it around your shoulders before you can even argue.

You smile as you snuggle into the warm material, feeling calmed by the familiar smell of him.

“There,” he says as he looks at you before his head tilts. “Just missing one thing.”

Curious, you watch as he slips his hand back into his pant pocket in order to fish something out.

The necklace.

He hadn’t told you about it before the mission. Only about the safe, and now you think you’re beginning to realize why.

He places it around your neck and readjusts the clasp until it can sit comfortably over your heart. 

And you both look down as it sparkles from your chest, smiling together as though you truly can’t believe it’s real.

“You like it?” he whispers.

You grin so wide, your cheeks hurt. “I love it.”

He kisses you again, and it’s perfect.

Everything. All of it.

Him.

Suddenly, a loud toll echoes through the small town. The sharp chime coming from the clocktower in the town square.

Once, twice, three times. 

Midnight.

“It’s Christmas,” you realize aloud as you and Harry both glance toward the clock. 

His expression softens, and it makes your heart soar. “I guess it is.”

And then…you feel it. The first drop of something cold on your cheek. And then another. And another. And another. Gathering in your hair, getting stuck on his lashes.

Snow.

With a gasp, you look up into the dark sky as it dances down onto the quiet Chicago streets.

A rather perfect ending to a perfectly imperfect day.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

With a soft giggle, you curl yourself under his arm and press your lips to his cheek. “Merry Christmas, Harry.”

He laughs, and you’ve never been so happy.

“Merry Christmas, Mama.”

I'M SORRY THIS ONE GOT A BIT DARKER, IT WAS FUN BUT MOSTLY JUST FOR THE ERA ASPECT!! Thank you for reading if you did and letting me write something a little weirder 😭💞

~ Main Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs

[lucyandalexiafan]

Hopeless | reader x Alexia Putellas | part 1

Summary: you’re alone, even though you were part of the Barça team, you were alone. You thought being part of it meant feeling supported, liked, maybe even part of a family, but that wasn’t the case.

Warnings: angst (and fluff in the end)

Words: 4.4k

It's thanks to @muffinpink02 that this fic is seeing the light. When months ago I wrote the first part I was scared to send it to you because I thought it was boring or repetitive, but, from the beginning, you supported and hyped me during the writing process, suggesting ideas and correcting them every time I sent you even just three sentences. I'm so grateful you helped me so much 🫂

You had never really felt part of something.

Of any group.

Of any friendship.

It was as if the people around you found their people, their friendships, their relationships, but not in you.

You were motionless, with nothing and no one.

Football had been a good relief valve.

A tool useful to not think about it.

To not think about how lonely you felt.

About how everyone seemed to treat you as extra, as not necessary.

About how everyone seemed to exclude you when you were least needed or at the first opportunity.

It had been painful at first, you cried and wondered what was wrong.

Why did it always happen?

And it happened in football too, with every team you played for.

With the boys from the team when you were just a kid, who included the other girls but not you; with the first girls’ team and with the first youth teams.

You always seemed to be extra.

To be too much.

You felt too much.

Except on the field.

On the field you were good.

You were really good at football.

You had poured out every bad thought, anxiety, resentment, and self-hatred on the field, chasing those balls and perfection, trying to achieve the best possible performance and the best teams.

The possibility of changing cities, maybe countries, pushed you to play better and better. The hope of finding your place, the hope that that place was elsewhere but findable, had driven you to give your all.

And this had paid off when the Barça talent scout contacted you.

Your parents didn't care much, you were of age, you could do what you wanted. So shortly after, you boarded a plane to Barcelona, a suitcase of clothes with you and many hopes.

But it had been difficult.

Your young age had mainly put you in contact with the youngest of the team, but they seemed so carefree and spoke so little English that you felt out of place.

With the older ones, you were out of place because what did you have in common with them? With the great Alexia Putellas, with Fridolina Rolfo, what could you possibly have in common? They were so perfect, and talented.

So over time, you ended up isolating yourself, reveling in the same loneliness that had always accompanied you, in that awful but familiar feeling of not being in the right place.

You lived alone, so you could drown every tear in the pillow every time you came back from training. You could cry undisturbed at any time of the day, every time you saw your teammates' stories of them going out together and not being invited, having dinners and not being invited.

It was an endless whirlwind you had fallen into. You isolated yourself by refusing any contact, always feeling like too much, and people stopped trying.

In the end, you were good at football, your performances were excellent, and you behaved perfectly during training. What more could they want from you?

Maybe you had hoped that, seeing how they were all so closed off, they would include you, they would fight harder to help you and include you.

But it hadn't happened, or at least you hadn't experienced it that way.

You had spent Christmas alone in Barcelona and so was New Year's Eve. No one to celebrate within your hometown, no one to celebrate with in Barcelona; your parents traveling who knows where happy not to have to spend money on you anymore.

You had burst into tears, into a panic attack, a few days after training started.

Everyone talked about their holidays.

Family dinners.

Family games.

Friends reunited.

New Year's parties.

You avoided those questions, avoiding the conversations as soon as holidays were mentioned.

What were you supposed to say?

You would have just seemed pathetic, lonely, useless. You already felt that way, you didn't need them to know.

Then, the umpteenth time they tried, they managed to ask you what you had done during the holidays.

You lied.

You said you had gone home and everything was quiet.

Then, as soon as lunch was over, you ran out of the room and took refuge in a small gym in an isolated spot in the sports center.

You put on your headphones and started punching the boxing bag.

The music in the headphones and the tears on your cheeks.

Why weren't you like them?

Why was no one with you?

Why were you so alone?

You were wasting so much time of your life because of loneliness that it almost felt like living the same days over and over again.

The same identical routine, the same cycle of actions, every day, all days.

You collapsed to the ground, your body flooded with sobs, your throat contracted by moans of pain.

You felt pathetic, there on that floor crying over a fate that seemed to be yours, crying over a plot already written.

Then the door of the room had opened and you had stared at it in fear.

Alexia and Mapi had entered, a sigh of relief escaping their mouths when they recognized you.

"You're here! Dios we looked for you everywhere! Do you know what- are you crying?"

You huddled against the wall.

Her angry tone, that angry captain's tone that you had only heard once in the locker room, terrified you.

If you were already insignificant to the team, what would happen now with her that is mad?

You tried to please her, to at least feel accepted by her.

You shake your head as you stand up, your hands immediately wiping your cheeks.

Mapi takes you by the shoulders.

“What happened? Are you injured?"

You shake your head again, you move in an attempt to free yourself from her grip.

The only thing that mattered to them about you was football. It was that you could play, that you made the right passes and the perfect assists.

What did they care about how you really are?

"Then why are you crying? - you try to leave, to get away - No, stop! I said stop!"

You freeze in place, eyes fixed on the floor.

That low, angry, warning tone, almost daring to challenge her.

"Now you tell us why you're crying."

You looked at her.

Should you tell the truth?

Admit to the two of them what you really felt?

That storm of dissatisfaction and sadness?

That feeling of loneliness and apathy that hung over your life?

"Can you hug me?" You whispered looking at her, tears covering your eyes, in an attempt to receive, at least once, the love you were seeking so much.

Mapi's arms wrapped around your body without hesitation. Her strong arms held you close to her, your cheek against her shoulder, your hands gripping the edges of her shirt, tears wetting the fabric at shoulder height.

"I'm sorry" you whisper "I'm pathetic."

Mapi hugs you again.

"Don't say that, it's not true. Do you want to tell me what's going on?"

You bite your lip, your eyes now fixed on the window.

"I didn't spend Christmas and New Year's Eve at home, but in Barcelona."

"Did your family come here? Why didn't you-"

"Alone, I don't know where my parents were and I had no one to celebrate with."

There's silence.

An embarrassing, humiliating, silence.

You feel even worse.

Even more pathetic.

Even more stupid.

Why did you admit it?

For what reason -

"What do you mean you had no one?"

"I don't have friends" you answer flatly.

It was true.

You had no one.

"You could have asked us, we-"

"What? Would you have taken a burden like me to celebrate with at your home? - you laugh sarcastically - Don't lie, you're indifferent to me. Whether I'm there or not doesn't change anything for you, just like it doesn't change anything for anyone on the team."

"Don't even think about it" Alexia's voice is dangerously low "You matter to the team-"

"Oh yeah? I see it. You go out without me, you don't care about me, I'm useless if not on the field."

Silence.

Deaf, powerful, silence.

What could they say to deny what you said?

It's true.

They go out without you.

They have fun without you.

They party and celebrate games.

“Listen - you close your eyes to Alexia's voice - I'm sure the situation isn't-”

“Have you saved my number in your contacts? - she looks at you, her eyes widening - do you see it? We've been playing together for months, we're in at least three WhatsApp groups together, and you've never saved my number. Why should you? Like I said, I don't matter, why would you ever feel the need to contact me? And I'm not talking about social media, following me on Instagram or anything, but my phone number, and you're my captain, aren't you?”

You shake your head frustrated.

You know you could pay the consequences for this behavior in the future. You're yelling in the face of Alexia Putellas, your captain, in front of another person. Alexia has made your teammates run entire training sessions for far lesser things than this lack of respect.

Maybe you don't care.

Maybe you want her to make you run because it means that someone, somehow, noticed you.

You leave the gym, leaving the two women completely still, thinking.

After that discussion, you went to that room for another technical meeting. As always, you sat at the back, a notebook on the desk and a pen in hand, pretending to be attentive and the chance to keep your head down.

A part of you had hoped that by talking about it, by angrily spitting out how you felt against them, they would do something.

That they would take a step towards you.

That they would include you.

But it didn't happen.

As usual, at the end of the first part of the technical session, you went to get a coffee from a coffee machine, in complete loneliness, and no one approached you.

You went back inside, and sat at your desk, headphones in your ears, until you resumed the meeting.

You usually put your phone on "Do Not Disturb,"

You usually put your phone on "Do Not Disturb," trying to convince yourself that the lack of notifications meant you were unreachable, but in truth, no one was looking for you.

No one wrote to you.

No one invited you out.

You left it on without "Do Not Disturb" all day.

You obsessively checked your phone for any pretext.

The time.

The schedule of university classes.

Exam dates.

Training times.

Making sure that the next day was a day off.

Anything to try to find a notification.

But nothing.

Complete silence.

Had you been wrong to shout how you felt, to open up for once?

You had been pathetic, you knew it, but you couldn't stand this feeling anymore.

This feeling that eats away at you from the inside.

Of this acid that was melting you from the inside.

You couldn't live it anymore.

So you had hoped that by opening up things would change, but, like that day, the next one there were no messages.

No notifications.

No calls.

You had locked yourself in the house.

The fetal position on the bed, the nausea that closed your stomach.

How could you have been so stupid?

Why should they ever do anything?

You had remained curled up since you woke up until dinner time.

Nothing at all.

No notifications.

No calls.

The only time your phone rang, you jumped up on the bed.

The hope that someone had contacted you, the hope of counting.

The hope that what you had done had made sense.

But it was the Barça staff warning you that there was no training the next day.

For the rest, nothing.

No sound filled that emptiness of the apartment, of your body.

Yet you couldn't stop looking at the phone.

Hoping to receive a message, a call, or a like on social media.

Anything.

Any sign.

You fell asleep like that, motionless and in the same position as when you got up.

The emptiness inside that had engulfed you and the whole apartment in a black hole of sadness, resentment, nausea, and fatigue.

What was wrong with you?

The next day you forced yourself to get out of bed, make coffee, and eat something.

Anything to feed that exhausted body.

You struggled to swallow the food, to chew it, to tolerate its taste.

Everything bothered you.

Every taste made you want to vomit.

Every sound irritated you to the point of plugging your ears.

The emptiest, most useless, days of your life.

The bottom that you had finally reached. You had crashed into it, actually, with such an impact that it didn't allow you to move even a finger, not that you wanted to, move it.

The next day you forced yourself to get up, knowing that you had to reach the sports center to go to the airport to play the match.

You didn't want to go there, you didn't want to leave the house, you didn't want to see anyone, let alone play.

But you forced yourself to put on the usual Barça tracksuit that you once were excited to wear and to pick up the bag, the apartment keys in the other, and close the door's house behind you with a dry sound that echoed in the empty corridor.

Had it always been so empty?

You got on the bus with less strength than you had at the end of a strenuous match.

You sat in the same place, always alone and always near the window. The feeling that, as always, no one would sit next to you was strong, it exploded in your chest like your desire to cry, to scream that you were hurt, that you didn't want to continue to live in this way.

And so it had been.

No one had sat down.

On the opposite side of the pair of your seats were, as always, Marta and Caroline. You avoided looking at them, because this would have meant contemplating their silent and shy love, their reserved way of showing love.

Their intertwined hands.

The barely hinted smiles.

The shared headphones.

It was too much.

That love so sweet, so reserved, was too much to observe from afar, from the outside.

It seemed so unrealistic for you, for your life, that seeing it come true for someone else burned inside, wore you out.

Then you had arrived at the airport, got on the plane and got off. Someone from the staff had sat next to you, but no one to whom you attached much importance.

"Okay, the rooms are doubles."

Your nightmare.

The thing you hated most was the double rooms.

You wanted to cry in the shower, groan as the water ran down your cheeks and along your chin, and lean your back and head against the wall in an attempt not to suffer too much from the sobs.

Double rooms prevented you from having that privacy, that vital space, during away matches.

Those matches that until the first week, you had so excited about, so wanted to play, but which now had turned out to be just your worst nightmare.

A mixture of anxiety, anger, and sadness.

“Lucia and Maria, Ingrid and Ona.. you two seem to be the last - Jona had said, the tone almost bored, as he gave the key to your room to Alexia - The rules for away games are the same, double rooms or not. Please.”

Alexia had clapped her hands telling everyone to go to the rooms.

You had followed her with your head down, the whole team in front of you and you behind her. She seemed relaxed, her pace calm and her shoulders relaxed, one hand holding the trolley handle, her hair tied up.

You entered the room, she first, and you followed.

“Which bed do you want? - you look at her silently hoping she expresses a preference - you usually sit facing the door, so I suppose this one is better because from here you can see it”

You stare at her.

Wide-eyed.

How does she know?

When did she notice?

“So? - she chuckles - Is this okay?”

You nod cautiously, hesitantly, looking at the bed. A part of you thinks she'll sit on that one, telling you that she'll take it then, that she'll do it to punish you for what happened.

But she moves to the other one and puts her suitcase in it.

You look at her confused.

"Are you not taking off your backpack?"

You blink a couple of times, getting out of your thoughts and moving towards yours, turn your back to her, and lay it on the bed. 

You don't know what to do. 

You hear her opening and moving things around. 

How many things did she bring with her? 

Usually, when there are double rooms, they put you with someone from Barça B, what do people like her do during away games? 

Does she go to bed early? 

Does she eat in her room after dinner? 

Does she watch a movie? 

How should you behave?

"Hey - you turn abruptly - it’s okay for you if we talk?" She asks, her voice cautious. 

You don't answer. 

You just look at her. 

Talk about what? 

How she'll get you out of the team? 

How pathetic are you? 

Talk about what?

She sits on her bed slowly, legs crossed, hands on her feet. 

You are standing, arms along your body, hands open on your thighs. 

You both remain silent. 

She looks at you, trying not to show it, but she's nervous, she's agitated. 

You already want to leave. 

Turn towards the door and exit from this room. 

The claustrophobia explodes, and the air seems not to enter your lungs.

Months ago you would have jumped for joy knowing you would share the room with her, with Alexia Putellas, two Ballon d’Or and one of the best players in the world.

You wouldn't have been able to contain your excitement at the thought of spending time with her, even if spending time alone with her. 

Now all you want to do is disappear, to escape as far away as possible from her.

"Where do you want me to sit?"

"Wherever you want, on your bed or mine - you look at her, not knowing what to do - Why don't you sit next to me?"

You nod hesitantly, even though you know it's a rhetorical question. 

She moves towards the headboard of the bed, legs crossed. 

You sit down facing her, legs crossed, hands on your thighs. 

You don't look at her. 

You feel her hesitate, sighs that seem to suggest several times that she tried to say something but stopped before making a sound.

"Have you ever been to the Canary Islands?" - you shake your head - "Perfect, what do you think about going out for something to eat together?"

You look at her, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Cap-Jona said that... the rules are the same and we can't go out," you respond hesitantly.

Why is she asking you? 

Does she want you to break the rules? 

Does she want a reason to kick you out? 

Does she want a reason to punish you, to get back at you for three days ago? 

You clench the fingers of one hand into the other.

Why is she doing this? 

What does she want from you?

She shrugs. "Being captain has its advantages - she smiles a bit cocky, a bit hesitant - No one will find out, I promise," and she moves her pinky towards you.

You look at her confused. 

You understand the reference to "Cross my heart," but you can't believe she's actually doing it. 

It's also a bit comical, the great Alexia Putellas moving her pinky toward you, swearing that no one will find out if you break the rules. 

Never in a million years did you think it was possible.

She withdraws her hand, palm against her thigh. "I know a good place that does street food, you know, fish and chips but also burgers, and they also do vegetarian food and I know you're vegetarian. If you feel like it, we can go."

Her voice is hesitant, and calm, her posture stiff.

Should you trust her? 

Not that you have many options and you would do anything to get out of this room, out of this hole surrounded by four walls that you're forced to share with her. 

And outdoors she can't do anything to you, right?

You nod hesitantly. "I'd like that."

Almost a whisper, a faint combination of timid and frightened words.

She smiles.

"Do you have casual clothes? Like a hoodie and pants - you nod - Great! Then put them on and let's go."

You watch her as she stands up.

Do you really want to eat with her? 

How long has it been since you went out with someone? 

You feel the tears in your eyes as you dress. 

You put on a simple shirt and baggy jeans, an attempt to hide, to not be visible. 

Are you really that alone?

Probably yes, you can't remember the last time you went out with someone. 

That you did something other than going to training, games, or grocery shopping. 

Why is your life so empty?

If you didn't work, would you have opportunities to leave the house? 

Reasons to do it? 

People to do it with?

You try to think about it, to think about the last time you went out because you wanted to, because you had to meet someone, but your mind is empty. Your thoughts run through the narrow paths of the labyrinth of your memories, but nothing refers to outings.

You close your eyes.

You can't cry.

Not now.

Not with her.

Not now that maybe you're going out with someone.

Not now that someone has invited you out, has asked you to do something together.

No matter the reason, you know she asked you to talk about what happened, but at least you'll do something together.

When was the last time you ate out with someone?

Has it ever happened on occasions other than team or class dinners?

You bite your lip and walk to the bathroom.

You wet your face with cold water, the vain attempt to freeze the sadness, the anger, the bitterness.

How to erase it?

How can you stop these feelings?

You're wasting your life.

You dry your face, almost scraping it with the towel, almost wanting to scrape away that feeling, that self-hatred.

You leave the bathroom with your head down, still doubtful that Alexia really wants to go out with you breaking the rules.

"Ready? - you nod - Perfect, then let's go."

You put your phone in your pocket and follow her out the door, she closes it and then swipes the magnetic card on the lock.

Are you really going out together?

Is this really happening?

Where's the trap?

"Shall we take the elevator, is this okay for you?"

You nod, your voice seems to have disappeared, left in the room.

She hesitates, looking at you, then turns to the right side of the corridor and walks towards the end of it; you walk behind her, the blue of her jeans the only color in your field of vision besides the awful red of the carpet and white walls.

What will happen?

Was she serious?

You hear a metallic noise and see her walking into the elevator box, you follow her and she presses the zero button.

"Do you do this often, go out during away games?" you ask, your voice little more than a whisper as you watch her adjust her hair in the mirror.

"Usually I leave this opportunity to Irene, when her family travels to the cities where we have games, so she can spend time with them. But sometimes it happens, also because Marta just cares to spend time with Caro, it doesn't matter where they are."

She finishes fixing her hair and inside you the question of 'who do you take with you' is inflamed with curiosity.

Who does she go out with?

How many times does she do it?

The image of that rock-solid captain, rigid with rules and obsessive with timings is suddenly softened by this cocky, rebellious version.

"When María got injured, I went out with Ingrid a couple of times, she was scared of leaving her alone at home and walking was helping her - she smiles when she sees we are almost there - And when Jenni used to play with us, we usually went out to dinner together, but that’s a long time ago now."

You open your mouth, your eyes wide.

So it’s true that they were-

"Come on, let's go before we get caught," she ends the conversation before you can actually speak, a smile on her face knowing she has finally drawn out a reaction from you other than fear, doubt, or anxiety.

She walks quickly to a back exit.

"Can you ride a bike? - you nod - Okay, then let's take these bikes to go to the place I told you about. You're a vegetarian, right? The local tourist guides say it’s the place with the best vegetarian burgers on the whole island."

You bite your lip.

Where did she find out?

You never told anyone, only the staff knows, but you rarely eat in the canteen with them and when you do it’s so rare that it doesn’t arouse suspicion that you eat vegetarian.

"Do you like it?"

You nod while you struggle even to eat a fry.

But it really seemed good, and there were so many flavors and types of burgers, sandwiches, and condiments.

Did Alexia really think of you?

Did she really look it up to bring you here to eat?

You’re sitting on a pier, a somewhat hidden part of the beach, away from the road.

Just you and her.

Alexia had placed your dinner on the cold, damp wood, had taken out the two packs of baked fries and Coca-Cola and then placed them on the paper bag.

You watched her as she did it, the embarrassment of noticing the time she took to do everything precisely.

Is she always like this?

Then she asked you to sit in front of her so you could eat facing each other.

You hesitated but complied.

Then, as soon as your eyes met hers, your appetite, the desire to taste this amazing hamburger, disappeared.

That smell that until a moment ago seemed like the aroma of a great dinner, now only made you nauseous.

You grab the Coca-Cola and try to swallow a few sips, hoping the nausea will go away.

Alexia paid for dinner, fifteen euros and seventy cents each, she didn’t even let you take out your wallet.

You have to eat.

What will she think otherwise?

That she wasted money?

That you’re ungrateful?

You have to eat.

You try to eat another fry, your taste buds sending signals of disgust to your brain as soon as they come into contact with that flavor.

Is it anxiety?

Panic?

Fear?

"How do you feel?" She asks.

You freeze.

How do you feel?

Bad? Good? Sad? Angry? Hurt?

You don’t even know how you feel. That torment, that gurgling, in your stomach doesn’t stop, that flow of negative thoughts and anxieties doesn’t stop attacking you.

Maybe you should tell her you’re fine, that you’re nervous for the game but that everything is fine as always.

Even though nothing has been fine for as long as you can remember.

When has something ever gone well?

When was the last time you felt good?

Maybe when Barça signed you, when you got on that plane thinking another life would begin.

You close your eyes, you can’t cry.

But it’s true. Maybe that was the only happy moment after years of feeling nothing different than a constant state of apathy, of emptiness.

It was the only moment when you thought things would change, the last moment, the last time you let yourself hope.

So maybe that’s why you feel so bad now?

"Fine, you?" You answer mechanically.

The same response you always gave the medical staff, the training staff, those few journalists who found it interesting to interview you.

But you don’t look at her, you know she would realize it’s not true.

Empty eyes, rigid shoulders, clear signs of the effort it takes to lie again, for the umpteenth time.

"Can we skip the part where you pretend everything is okay?" She asks, the tone bored, irritated.

You clench your eyes as soon as your mind registers that the tone of voice is angry by your attempt to lie.

What should you say then?

What does she want you to say?

You sigh.

It’s a dead end, isn’t it?

You and her alone on a pier, at night, far from the hotel.

There’s no way out.

"Why do you ask?" You ask, your voice uncertain, a whisper.

"Because I care."

You laugh sarcastically by instinct, unable to control yourself.

That’s what your parents always say when they call you after months of silence, telling you that you’re ungrateful and that they care about you.

Then they don’t call for weeks.

Is there anyone who really cares about how you are?

Who really cares about you?

You don’t think so.

In the end, you’ve lived in many cities, met many people of different ages, experienced things with them.

Did any of them ever really care about you?

No.

Did anyone really want you in their life?

No.

You were just a pastime of the moment, the lady-in-waiting, the entertainment.

"Anxious for the match."

Another excuse, the umpteenth.

Another lie, the thousandth.

You don’t look at her face, you know that if you did, you would cry.

You try to take a bite of the hamburger, but you have to chew it for a long time to find the strength to swallow.

"Why? You’ve been playing as a starter since the beginning of the season."

You know she doesn’t believe you.

Why is she playing along?

You shrug.

"I always feel this way before matches."

"You never told me."

"You never asked."

There is silence.

You bite your tongue.

Couldn’t you keep quiet?

"Sorry," you whisper, scared.

Will she yell? You don’t want her to yell, to get even angrier.

She says nothing, you hear her drink the Coke.

"I get anxious playing with you because you’re the best in the world," you reply.

It’s a partial truth, you’re scared to play with them, not being up to par.

But the reality is you’re always anxious because you know you’re worth nothing to them, so you’re afraid that at the first mistake they will kick you out, bench you forever.

"You don’t have to, you’re really good."

You don’t answer, a compliment thrown to the wind.

She doesn’t really think that.

If she did, you would feel part of the team, right?

If you were that good, they would have included you, you would be part of the group, and not just a marginal ornament.

You eat in an awkward silence almost half of the food.

You don’t speak, she doesn’t speak.

You don’t look at her, she doesn’t seem to look at you.

What should you tell her?

She sighs. "Look at me."

You raise your head but avert your gaze into the void next to her head, pretending to see her without looking at her.

"My eyes are here," she reproaches you, the captain's voice, that gently authoritative tone.

"I would like to talk about what happened, but I know I can’t force you -"

"Yeah, exactly, maybe it’s better not to, forget it," you interrupt her.

You know she hates it when you interrupt her.

She hates being interrupted.

You see her put the sandwich down on the box.

You close your eyes.

"Okay, we can’t continue like this."

You don’t answer.

What should you say?

You don’t understand what she wants.

You don’t understand why you’re here.

You don’t understand anything.

"We need to talk"

"Why? Because we have to sleep in the same room? If you wanted to talk to me you would have done it sooner” you spit angrily.

You attack her.

You don't care about respect, the fact that she is the captain, that she is Alexia Putellas.

What might interest you if you have already hit rock bottom?

What depth can you still reach, that they stop talking to you?

Why, do they talk to you?

Alexia is silent.

A silence so punishing, so tense, it makes you want to cry.

Why doesn't she scream?

Is she bored already?

Do you want to go back to the hotel?

“Maybe we'd better go,” you continue, while placing your hands on the pier in an attempt to get up.

"Sit down"

“Otherwise, what do you do? – you reply bitterly, in the end what do you have to lose? – will you put me on the bench? Will you hit me?”

You laugh sarcastically.

Alexia is silent, so you continue in your attempt to get up.

“I took a few days to think about what happened, about what you said to me and María - she sighs - I asked her not to tell anyone about what happened, so only we and probably Ingrid know, given that María cried all night"

You tense up.

Cry?

Why did she cry?

Does Ingrid know?

Does she really believe you believe her?

Days to think?

“I asked Jona to put us in the room together because I wanted to talk to you but I didn't want to make you uncomfortable and talked to you about two days ago in front of the others, but then I thought it would be embarrassing to do it in the room”

You do not say anything.

What does she want to tell you?

That you're out of the team?

Are you pathetic?

You don't look at her, your eyes fixed on your mismatched socks visible due to your pin-hole shorts.

Anything to avoid looking at it.

“We should have figured it out, how you were doing, what was happening. Instead, we were focused on winning, on the matches, this year the only new player besides you was Ona, but she knew all of us, and we didn't think about the shock and difficulties that playing with us could bring, that moving to Barcelona would cause - look at her - We all made mistakes, me first, and I don't know what to do to improve the situation"

Honesty surprises you

“Sit down, please”

[pascalispretty]

Old Holiday, New Traditions

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: cowgirl sex, unsafe sex, Joel mouthing off during sex, established relationship

Summary: Safe in Jackson, Joel celebrates his first New Year's Eve in decades. (ao3).

Notes: My Secret Santa gift for @bluebeary-jay! Merry Christmas! My thanks as always to @misscharlielulu for her support.

Joel had never been one for a big celebration on New Year’s Eve. There had been a few parties with Sarah’s mother when he was younger. Later, he rang in the New Year with Sarah – sitting her on his shoulders to watch fireworks, or moving clocks forward to feign the moment of midnight for her.

After Sarah, he’d had no desire to celebrate. It was just another marker of time, the yawning gulf opening up in his life between her past and his present.

All the New Year meant to him was another year without his baby girl.

Yet somehow, between their arrival in Jackson in the spring and the approaching winter, Ellie had gotten him to look forward to it. She spoke excitedly of the party held in Jackson to kick off the new year. It involved weeks of preparation, and almost everybody in town pitching in to help. Slowly, the promise of the New Year was no longer something he dreaded.

And then there was you. You, who’d been in Jackson for longer and filled Ellie’s head with stories of New Year’s celebrations past. You, who’d somehow worked your way into Joel’s bed, and then his heart. He’s hard pressed to explain how you – bright, tender you, who still got upset when your neighbours’ cat left small carcasses on your doorstep – had taken to him so quickly.

Between you and Ellie, you convince him to attend his first New Year’s Eve in decades.

****

It’s late by the time the two of you head back to Joel’s place. It’s almost one in the morning, but the party in the Tipsy Bison isn’t showing much sign of slowing down. You’d left Ellie giggling in a corner with Cat, the two of them no doubt thrilled to have pulled one over on Joel about being ‘just friends’.

The snow crunches under your feet as you make your way home, your hand tucked into the crook of Joel’s elbow. The sound of the party carries far down the street, almost every resident of Jackson still inside. Only those on patrol, and those too sick to get out of bed, would miss it. It’s a celebration of surviving and thriving for another year.

“Make any resolutions this year?” You ask Joel teasingly. The air is cold enough to make your breath mist, and you shiver despite your warm clothes.  

“Yeah. Stop lettin’ you ‘n Ellie talk me into stuff,” he huffs.

“Oh come on. You had a good time.” You had caught him smiling at one point, watching Ellie dance with some of the other teenagers.

“Wasn’t terrible,” he says eventually. “Ellie looked like she had a real good time.”

“Yeah, she did,” you agree. “All the other kids seem to really like her.” Cat in particular, though you don’t say that aloud. It had been sweet to watch the two tiptoe around one another with all the hallmarks of an adolescent crush.

“It’s good for her. Bein’ around people her own age, bein’ able to have friends.”

“I still can’t believe Dina managed to get her to dance.” A smile tugs at the corner of Joel’s mouth again. His smiles aren’t frequent, but it’s a huge change from the intimidating, scowling man who had first arrived in Jackson over a year ago. Slowly but surely, you think Jackson is becoming his home.

In just the same way, his home is becoming yours. You’re spending fewer nights at the house you share with Dina and Rebecca. Ellie no longer reacts with any surprise when she finds you having breakfast at her kitchen table. You even keep a change of clothes tucked in the bottom of Joel’s dresser. You’d never ask Joel to put a label on whatever you are, but you’re not sure you need him to. As if to prove your point, he doesn’t even ask if you’re coming home with him; he just carries on walking right past the turn that leads to your house.

The noise of the party has long faded by the time you get to Joel and Ellie’s house; your boots crunching through the snow is the only sound you can hear. You and Joel stomp your feet to shake off the loose snow, and unlace your boots standing right next to the front door so you can step inside in your socks. Joel had imposed the rule about not tracking snow inside after Ellie had gone flying on the wooden floor left slick by snowmelt, and you’d both readily agreed. Joel takes your boots with him, doubtless to put them with his in the kitchen to dry off as you start taking off your many layers.

In just your jeans and a tee shirt, you make your way upstairs to Joel’s bedroom. The heat is on; it doesn’t take long for the warmth to come back to your feet and fingers. Turning into Joel’s room, you don’t turn on the main light. Instead, you light the candle on the bedside table, casting the room in a soft golden glow.

The candle lit, you move over to the record player in the corner. There’s a vinyl already waiting, so you simply switch it on and lower the needle. Soft, Spanish guitar fills the room. You’re flicking through the crate full of records when Joel’s strong arms loop around your middle. You can’t help smiling to yourself, resting your hand on his as he kisses the side of your head.

“Music, candles, you got me drunk…you tryin’ to seduce me darlin’?” He whispers against the shell of your ear.

“Tommy was the one who got you drunk,” you remind him. Joel grunts in acknowledgement, squeezing you a little tighter.

“My mind ain’t on Tommy right now.” He turns you in his arms, those dark eyes of his unfathomable as he looks down at you. “I’m more concerned with how I can thank my girl.”

Before you can respond, he leans in and kisses you. It’s a soft kiss, barely more than a peck. It’s still enough to send the first sparks running through your veins. Joel brings one of his hands up to cup your jaw, his large palm warm against your skin.

“You looked pretty when you were dancing, baby,” he murmurs, his thumb stroking your cheek. A derisive snort escapes you.

“I looked like an idiot.” Dina had pulled you in to dance, some variation on a jig that had both of you collapsing into breathless giggles by the end.

“You looked happy.” Joel kisses you again, a little deeper this time. The simple statement fills you with a different kind of warmth, and you make a contented sound against his full lips. You loop your arms around his neck, trying to get as close to him as you can. He holds you tight, and not for the first time you’re struck by the contrast in his sheer strength, and the gentleness with which he handles you.

The hand at your waist creeps below the hem of your shirt, sliding up to cup the weight of your breast. Even over your bra, his touch makes you shudder.

“Off,” he huffs impatiently, breaking the kiss to pull your tee shirt up and over your head. You start in on the buttons of his flannel shirt, doing your best to concentrate as Joel brushes your hair back over your shoulder and starts kissing your neck. His stubble prickles at your delicate skin and his lips immediately kiss away the sting.

The heat of arousal floods through your body, your fingers skittering over the small buttons. It takes you longer than it should to get the navy shirt off him, followed swiftly by the soft grey tee shirt he had on underneath. You can feel his cock starting to stiffen against your belly, and it only adds to the tingling sensation under your skin as your nerve endings set alight.

Joel steers you both back towards the bed, the two of you shedding your remaining clothes as quickly as you can. He settles himself into bed, leaning back against the headboard as he helps you into his lap. You sigh softly as you settle on his thighs, one of your hands curling around the wood of the headboard and the other finding Joel’s shoulder.

 “You’re so pretty, baby,” Joel murmurs, his hands warm on your hips. He pulls you closer so your hips are flush with his. His cock, hot and hard, bumps against your middle, trapped between your bodies. He crushes you close in a deep kiss, tilting his head to slot his mouth against yours. One of his hands slides up to caress your breasts again, touching you with increasing impatience.

When you break apart, he leaves you gasping for air. Precome smears across your belly as you press closer to him. It’s not enough. You feel uncomfortably slick and devastatingly empty; you let out a soft, longing sound.

“Need you,” you whine, your fingertips skating over his stomach to grasp his cock. The weight of it in your hand makes you shiver. Joel uses his grip on your hips to encourage you up, rising up on your knees enough to be able to notch the broad head of his cock against your entrance. A hiss escapes through Joel’s teeth.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” He exhales a gasp into the side of your neck, his breath hot on your skin. He bites into the soft skin as you start to sink down on him. You inhale the scent of his hair, the soft curls tickling your face as he trails kisses and nips down your skin.

“That’s it,” he mumbles against your throat. “That’s it, good girl, take it just like that…” His hands help you move. As wet as you are, he’s so much that you can’t take him all in one go. You have to sink down slowly, impaling yourself with gradual flicks of your hips. Every thick inch of him strains your muscles, but the feeling of fullness is glorious.

“Oh, fuck, Joel-” you manage, breathless. He makes a hushing sound, smoothing one hand down the line of your spine. It’s meant to be a soothing gesture, but it only serves to wind you up even more, your nerves fraying at his touch. He flexes his hips, somehow driving himself in even deeper, and you whimper into his hair.

Joel coils one strong arm around your waist, his nose pressing against the hinge of your jaw. He lets you catch your breath. When you give your first, halting twist of your hips, he stutters an inhale, the fingers on your hip tightening.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he says, his voice tight with need. “Ride me, go on.” He starts to move with you, meeting every slow stroke of your hips. Every pass of his cock stokes the fire in your belly higher. You cling to him, needing to be as close as physically possible. The room feels suddenly stifling, your world shrunk down to just your bodies on Joel’s bed.

Your pace had started slow, but Joel is beginning to move with growing insistence. The hand on your hip presses between your bodies. When his searching fingertips find your clit, you drop your head back like a puppet whose strings have been cut. It opens you up more to Joel, giving him easier access to the sensitive bundle of nerves at your apex.

“Need you to come,” he grunts, his thumb stroking across your clit. “Wanna feel you come on my cock.” With every thrust of his hips, he works his thumb across your clit, setting you alight from within and without. Every shift and touch pulls you closer towards the edge. He mouths at your neck, your eyes fluttering closed as you writhe on his lap.

You start to move a little faster, chasing the high of your climax. Joel matches your pace, the obscene sound of your bodies meeting filling the room.

“Like that, that’s it, sweetheart,” he croons. “Good girl, baby, take what you need…”

“Joel,” you whine. “Joel, Joel, Joel-” You say it like a prayer, chanting it over and over.

It’s not long before he sends you hurtling over the edge, your orgasm hitting you so hard that you barely manage to hold yourself upright. The tension that’s been coiling in your belly snaps, sending molten fire pouring through your body. You feel him covering your face with kisses, the sensation of it far away somehow as you come back to yourself slowly.

His thumb keeps stroking circles around your clit, dragging out your climax. It threatens to push you into oversensitivity, and you whimper pathetically. Your cunt clenches around his length, the muscles unsure whether they want to pull him in deeper or push him out. The fluttering of your walls must get him there; before your brain can catch up to what’s happening, he’s pulled out of you.

It only takes a few desperate strokes of his hand before he’s coming all over your stomach. You feel ruinously empty, your primal need for Joel not helped by the ragged groan he lets out as he comes. He sits back against the headboard, and you watch the rise and fall of his broad chest as he struggles to catch his breath.

“Sorry baby,” he mutters, his thumb catching a pearlescent bead of come before it can drip down onto your cunt. He reaches for the stack of rags he keeps in his bedside table for this purpose, carefully wiping away his spend. You’re too tired to wash properly; instead, you simply let yourself fall onto the bed beside him.

Joel presses a kiss to your forehead before rolling over to blow out the candle. Taking advantage of the movement, you curl up behind him, spooning him. For once, he doesn’t grumble and protest and claim he doesn’t like it. He just rests his hand atop yours, and lets you snuggle closer.

You look down to see if he needs help as he draws the blankets over you both, and you notice the window for the first time since you came home.

At some point while you were having sex, it started snowing. It’s coming down thick, the world outside the window only visible in shades of white and grey. Tomorrow, everything will look fresh and new, the perfect start to a new year.

“Joel?” You whisper softly.

“Yeah?”

“I really am glad you agreed to come.” You rest your head against his back. It takes him a long moment to reply, and you almost wonder if he’s fallen asleep on you.

“I’m glad I went. It was my first good New Year’s in decades,” he says eventually. You snuggle closer, his back warm against your cheek.

“Happy New Year, Joel.”

Taglist:

@avengersfan25 @misscharlielulu @apenny4thots @its-nebuleuse @irishavengersassemble

[eternally-racing]

meet me at midnight | lando norris

pairing: lando norris x reader

wc: 1k

summary: even though you're sick, new year's eve is definitely a night you and lando want to remember.

----

“You have to go, Lan, everyone’s expecting you” you say while attempting to hide the congestion in your voice. It’s all futile though, since your ruby red nose and all too evident fever are giving you away. 

It’s New Year’s Eve and the two of you had planned on spending it together in Bali. It was a compromise of sorts. You got your quiet Christmas at home, while Lando was so excited to show you all his best DJ moves to close out the year. The only hiccup in the plan so far is that you had come down with one of the worst colds you’d experienced all year, leaving you absolutely cocooned under the blankets of your shared hotel room. 

Of course Lando wants to stay with you, he’s a gentleman after all. The two of you are still trying to keep things quiet with your relationship;  that means no joint entries into the paddock, no lavish vacations on a yacht, and most of all trying to keep things looking as “business as usual” in your personal social media accounts. People were already starting to question things, and Lando not making an appearance with his besties while everyone knows he’s in Bali would definitely raise too many red flags. It’s only when you threaten to get out of bed and iron his button down shirt yourself (it’s your favorite on him, and he knows that), does Lando come to terms with the fact that he’s leaving you behind to go party. It makes him feel a little sick in his stomach and you can see him almost change his mind at least half a dozen times before he makes it out the door, and it’s only after a mountain of air kisses and a promise to come back the minute you text him that you need him that he finally walks out the door. 

You’re not sure how long he’s been gone, but you can definitely still hear the party booming just miles away from your room. The toxic combination of advil and dehydration has left a pounding in your head that’s only compounded by the bass booming through your sheets, and the amount that you’re writhing in bed is almost enough to have you text Lando to come back. The minute you pick up your phone you see a cute video Martin sent of your man in the DJ booth looking like he’s having the time of his life, and that’s enough to make you change your mind. Seeing Lando happy made you happy enough, and if he was here the only thing he would do is probably just get himself sick. 

After drifting in and out of consciousness for a while you feel the side of the bed dip next to you and a pair of warm arms circle around you. Lando’s giggling a little to himself as he presses his face into your shoulder, and the ticklish feeling is enough to bring you further out of your slumber and roll over towards him. You can tell that Lando is still wearing the same shirt as you grasp at the buttons. He has that soft smile on his face that you just love seeing, his eyes fluttering open and shut as he tries to fight off sleep to look at you. On a normal night you would definitely chastise him for not brushing his teeth or changing his clothes before getting into bed, but it is honestly so nice to have him back and you tell him exactly that. As a response Lando only tries to bring your bodies even closer to each other, burying his head into your neck as he entangles your limbs together.

“Lan, baby I love you but you reek of tequila right now” you groaned as you stretched your back out slightly. The smell itself is enough to make your nausea return and you keep your nose shut with your fingers while you lift his head away from your body,

All of a sudden you feel Lando’s roaming hands freeze on your body and it immediately has you worried something’s wrong. You reach out to touch his cheek again but instead it looks like your boyfriend has seen a ghost. 

“You…love me?” Lando whispers out.

Shit. this is absolutely not how you meant for this to happen. I guess that's what love is like - perfectly imperfect and never how you expect it. The words had been on the tip of your tongue for weeks now but you just didn’t know the right moment to say it, but it looks like while your brain was overthinking it your heart had decided to blurt it out. 

You can feel your own face start to heat up, and this time it’s not from your fever. “Yeah, I love you Lando” You can barely keep eye contact with the blue-eyed boy across from you as you say it. 

There’s barely a beat of silence between you two and you’re about to launch into a mini rant about how he shouldn't feel any pressure to say it back and that it kind of slipped out when Lando scoops you into his arms. Before you know it he’s laughing and he’s kissing you and there’s fireworks happening between you two that can’t even be rivaled by the lights show that you can see streaming in through your window. 

“Can I show you how much I love you, baby?” is all Lando has to ask before you give in, all goals of trying to keep your distance to stop him from getting sick having gone out the window. 

And when Lando wakes up with a cold the next day, you’re right there next to him taking care of him. He’s the one you love, after all.

---

author's note: fun fact this was the very first formula 1 fic i ever wrote! it's making an appearance today because i've been so crazy busy this week and haven't been able to write a ton of new stuff :( so excited to get some more writing done this weekend! Love you all, thank you so much for reading! Until next time - Em <;3

[unreliablesnake]

So… I was wondering if you could request how König and/or Simon reacting to their s/o just getting up and being able to walk decently after they had sex? I’ve been thinking about this a lot recently and idk why but i think both would be shocked in some kind of way. Please and thank you!!!

Note: I wanted to write König too but I'm sick so it's a surprise I managed to write this piece. I hope it doesn't suck 😊

Ghost

Ghost placed kisses on your shoulder, his arm wrapped around you so tightly that your back was pressed against his body. He loved these moments; the quiet, blissful hours after the two of you made love.

He could be rough, he knew that. This time wasn't any different, he had been away for too long to be able to hold back and behave in bed. He knew that you needed time to recharge, to gain enough strength to even be able to get out of bed on your own.

But today you didn't seem tired. You kept talking, your hand on top of his on your stomach as you told him about the Christmas card your friend had sent you from Australia where she was spending the holidays. He listened to every word despite not being a fan of this friend of yours, a mutual feeling you never really caught on.

"Wait, it's easier if I show you," you told him before slowly prying his hands off your body.

"Later," Ghost murmured into your ear. "You need to rest."

You turned to look at him and rolled your eyes. "I'm fine."

And with that you got out of bed, almost running over to the living room. He let out a surprised hum, wondering how you could do that. When you returned, he raised on his knees, grabbed you by the waist, and pulled you in his lap.

With his face burried in the nape of your neck, he said, "I see you can still walk. I must be out of practice," he noted as he kissed your neck. "Let's see if I can make sure you don't leave bed until the morning."

You let out a laugh and put a hand on the back of his neck. Ghost watched you in awe. The fact you could move around so effortlessly after he fucked you like this made him wonder if it meant he had trained you well.

Either way, you were handmade for him and he didn't feel like ever letting you go. In fact, he was beginning to wonder if he should do what he had been planning to do on new year's eve. So he leaned back and opened the drawer of the nightstand to get something he had hidden there earlier.

You watched him with a questioning look that was replaced with a look of shock the moment you noticed he had a little blue box in his hand. First you opened your mouth, no sound leaving your throat as you tried to pull yourself together.

"I didn't want to give you this so soon, but I can't wait anymore," he said quietly before opening the box. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes!" you squealed happily before kissing him, hands wrapped around his body so tightly he felt like you would never let him go again.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: A New World {1}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: With the season over it's time to turn over a new leaf as you start your next adventure outside the Red Bull family. Warnings: 18+ only, sexual themes, fluff, periods, blood, vomit WC: 2k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World One || Two

Christmas Eve 2022 “I could get used to this,” you murmured happily. The sun was warm on your skin, the waves gently rocked the boat and you were with your favourite people in the world. 

“What, unemployment?”

You dared to open your eyes against the bright sunlight just to glare at Max as he stood on a paddleboard a few feet away from the edge. “Relaxing, you asshat.”

Lando rolled over at the disturbance but his eyes didn’t open before he settled back on his side and draped an arm over your stomach. “She’s got a job,” he mumbled half-asleep. “Lady of the House.”

“Lady,” Max snorted. “Good one.”

You sat up and stretched before getting to your feet, much to Lando’s displeasure. “Water looks nice.”

Max scanned the beautiful blue sea, spotting Charles kitesurfing where the wind was stronger beyond the lee. “It’s a little cold.”

“Even better.” You ran and leapt from the back of his boat, tackling him around the waist and knocking him off the paddleboard and into the frigid water. You were laughing as you resurfaced and found Max looking like a drowned rat as he tried to scramble back onto his board. 

“Fuck off,” he shivered as you shook the board everytime he got on it, Lando’s loud laugh upsetting the gulls that hung around hoping for scraps. 

“Nuh-uh, not until you admit I am a Lady.” You grabbed the board again and shoved it about. “Earthquake!”

“Sweetheart, stop harassing poor Max.” 

“Poor Max?” You echoed as you gave him one last push before tipping your head back to float on the surface. “I can’t believe my mum’s favourite child isn’t even her own.”

“I don’t have a favourite,” she said as she set down a tray of baking at the outdoor table, P quickly following as she smelt the fresh cookies.

“You should, since you only have me, your numero uno.”

She rolled her eyes at your dramatics and you wondered if that's how you looked when you did the same thing. “Come and eat, honey. Now that you have no job there’s no need for those strict diets.”

You pulled yourself up the steps off the back of the boat and Lando held your towel open for you, wrapping it tightly in his arms so you were bundled inside. “I have a job,” you said with a laugh as Lando’s drying tickled you.

“That’s not a job,” Max reminded as he stepped onto the boat and dragged the paddleboard onto the deck.

“Obviously. But, seriously, you are looking at an Aston Martin pilot.”

“That’s a bit of a risk,” Max said with a frown at the news. “Lance’s father is always going to put him ahead of you.”

“Well as long as he doesn’t try to kill me then it’s already an improvement,” you said with a small laugh.

Max sat heavily on the padded bench and dropped head in his hands. He was still struggling to accept that Jos had tampered with your brakes and taken the fuse for the water pump before your last race. He had been obsessed with having the Verstappen name on the winners trophy. 

Apparently he hadn’t tried to kill you, he was just trying to slow you down so Max would get the points he needed to win the championship. The brakes were meant to work too well, not stop working entirely. It didn’t change the fact that your own father had nearly been the death of you. 

“That’s not funny, love,” Lando muttered in your ear, his arms tightening around you as he remembered the crash and the fear he had felt that day. 

“No, but if I don’t laugh about it I will cry, and that’s not pretty.”

“I think you’re pretty,” Penelope said with a mouthful of chocolate chip cookie.

“Thanks, P, but no one is as pretty as you,” you replied and laughed when she smiled at the compliment.

“Mouth closed when we eat,” Max reminded her with a grimace at the sight of mushed food between her teeth.

You joined her at the table, grabbing a muffin from the tray and ruffling her hair. “I’m going to miss you tomorrow but I hope you have a good Christmas with your dad.”

“Do you think Santa will find his way? My stocking is at home.” She frowned and placed her cookie down. “What if I don’t get any presents?”

“Have you been a good girl this year?” She gave you a small nod after thinking for a moment. “Then he will find you wherever you are.”

Christmas Day 2022 The palatial mansion had gone quiet as everyone went their separate ways for the evening after the banquet. There was no way any one family could have hosted the Christmas get together since there were just too many people but the island destination worked perfectly. Charles’ family had arrived on his boat while Lando’s family had flown in on Max’s plane and they were all spending the next few days celebrating the end of the year with you.

“I never want to move,” you groaned as Charles rubbed your full belly. “I shouldn’t have had that last yorkshire.”

“Maybe it was the two bowls of dessert,” he teased.

“Or the bottle of wine,” Lando added, his hands massaging your feet that rested on his lap. 

“I didn’t eat that much,” you huffed as you looked at your bloated midriff that seemed to dispute your words. “Where were you two planning on sleeping tonight? I’m sure there is a dog box somewhere on the island.”

“But then who would do this when your stomach hurts?”

You groaned as a sharp pain stabbed your abdomen and sat up. “Fuck.” Pushing off the couch you rushed to the bathroom and crumpled in front of the toilet, emptying your stomach of everything you ate before flushing the evidence away. 

“Baby?” Lando nudged the door open and frowned you as curled your knees up and groaned in pain. “You didn’t eat that much…”

“It’s not the food,” you whimpered as the cramps grew stronger and Charles arrived looking worried at your condition. “Can you run the shower?” You could feel the blood running down your thighs beneath the dress and groaned at the timing. 

“Should I call for a doctor?” Charles asked as he helped you to your feet while Lando warmed the shower. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m fine,” you said, squeezing his hand as you doubled over in pain. Lando blanched as he saw the red streaks running down your legs and you saw the panic in his wide eyes. “It’s just my period.”

“What do we do?” he asked. “What do you need us to do?”

You would have smiled at the rushed words if you weren’t being crushed from the inside out. “Hot shower, clean clothes, painkillers, pads, cuddles and death.”

“You mean chocolate,” Lando corrected as he pulled his shirt over his head and kicked his pants off before stepping into the shower. 

Charles didn’t give you the option to walk yourself in after, carrying you straight under the rainfall of steaming water. The heat saturated your dress and the water turned pink as it swirled around the drain at your feet.

“You guys don’t have to be here for this,” you murmured as you felt a hand dragging the zip down your spine.

“Silly Spitfire,” Lando chuckled as he reached for the special shampoo made for you, lathering it up in his hands while Charles released the updo you had styled for the dinner party. “We promised to take care of you, didn't we? So let us.”

Max grunted a good morning to Charles as he entered the kitchen on Boxing Day and made a beeline to the coffee maker. Everyone knew Lando would sleep as long as he was allowed but Max frowned when you didn’t follow Charles in, his eyes lingering on the empty doorway expectedly.

“She’s not feeling very well,” Charles said as he placed his cup under the espresso maker. Though there wasn’t the comfortable atmosphere they used to share, they were on friendly terms after finding equal footing in their support of you and how your season ended. They were friends, just not best friends.

“Ah, goodluck, mate,” Max chuckled, returning to his half empty coffee and his phone he was checking the news on. “There’s some spare rooms if you need some space.”

“Why would we need space?”

“I love my sister, but you are going to be in for hell.” He winced at the memory of spending the holidays with you when you raced for AlphaTauri. “Happens every year.”

Charles snorted and took his mug with a shake of his head. “Thanks for the concern, but we’re good.”

You woke to the smell of coffee and found Charles sitting up beside you, reading something on his phone, while Lando snored softly in your ear. You had fallen asleep with their body heat easing the ache in your muscles and they were better than any heat pack you had used before.

“Good morning, ma chérie,” he said as he placed his phone down, noticing you were awake. After helping you to sit up against the headboard he grabbed a plate from the bedside table and placed it on your lap before grabbing a glass of juice. “Plain toast and iBuprofen.”

“Breakfast of champions,” you murmured sarcastically before taking a bite and smiling softly. “Thank you, babe.”

Charles kissed your temple before handing you the tablets and drink. “It’s just because it says not to take these on an empty stomach. Once Lando is awake we can get you anything you desire, even if one of us has to pop over to the mainland.”

“I’d rather just have you.” The words had slipped out before you even realised it and you shoved another piece of toast in your mouth. “Sorry, hormones.”

Lando’s dark lashes twitched where they fanned across his cheeks before they fluttered open and he stretched as he rolled onto his back. “What about me?”

You looked down at him in confusion as he rubbed his eyes. “What about you?”

“Would you rather have me too?” he asked with a lopsided smile as he used your thigh as a pillow.

“Are you always just pretending to sleep?”

“No, I just wake up when I hear something sexy.”

 Charles laughed as he combed his fingers through the wild mess of curls. “Why does that not surprise me, mon cher.”

“Well you can go back to sleep,” you said as you passed the empty plate back to Charles. “I feel disgusting, probably look worse, and don’t even try to tell me otherwise or I will cry.”

“Agree to disagree,” they said at the same time, sharing a small laugh. 

“I still think you are the most beautiful woman in the world, love.” 

“I can see that,” you teased as you looked down at the thin sheet that covered Lando’s lap. “You know what would make me feel better? You did promise me anything.”

Charles shifted beside you and his cheeks flushed pink as his mind ran wild with tempting thoughts. “Anything at all.”

Your tongue rolled across your bottom lip at the thought and their eyes darkened with each passing second. “I want to watch you two.”

“You sure you don’t want to join us?” Lando asked as his fingertip drew small circles on your thighs.

“Isn’t that gross?” you asked as you crinkled your nose and your legs closed tighter.

“It’s just blood,” Lando chuckled. “And red is Charles' favourite colour.”

You rolled your eyes but had to give him a little laugh as he eased the tension and Charles kissed his way down to your collarbone. “There’s nothing about you I would ever call gross. And you never have to be embarrassed with us, mi amor. We just want you to be comfortable.”

You swallowed at the sincerity in his voice but still shook your head. “I’m not brave enough today.”

“Okay, love,” Lando said with a kiss to your thigh before he sat up. “Then we will have to put on a show just for you, a late Christmas present.”

Click here for the next part.

[what-even-is-thiss]

I’ve been on one date in my entire life and we got coffee and walked around the neighborhood just talking about our lives. We were both transmasc, both asexual, looking to get started in life. I texted him merry Christmas on Christmas eve and he said “You too, man.” and I never got another reply again.

What a strange thing. A strange moment. To find someone whose world aligns with yours so cleanly to have such a nice evening and then they just never call you again. It would probably mean less if I’ve had a hundred dates in my life but I’ve just had the one. So it’s the only one that there is to haunt me.

That was two years ago. I wonder how he’s doing now. If that thing with his job worked out. I wonder who he wonders about. I wonder if I would’ve liked him still if we’d had a second date. If we would’ve kissed or hugged, because we didn’t get to it on the first one. I’ll never know. I shouldn’t wonder, but he’s the only one I have to wonder about because his eyes were brown right next to my blue ones. Same height as me. Binder poking out from under his shirt. Vaping cotton candy out into the wind. I’m sure it meant almost nothing in the grand scheme of things but again, I’ve got limited things to dwell on.

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Ravel

A Seams Christmas special oneshot | Moodboard

{ Part IV: Notch | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: T

Summary: Joel swings by yours with a little something before Christmas dinner at Tommy and Maria's.

Warnings: Unapologetic fluff and softness, inspired by this ask from @casssiopeia from the beginning of the year, no use of Y/N, very lightly edited

Word count: 2k

Notes: I'm so proud of writing up this little drabble. I've been in such a weird place with my writing, I'm just happy to end the year on a creative high. Obviously, I'm a few days late to Christmas, but better late than never!

There is a voice in my head telling me that this isn't good enough, that it doesn't hold up to what I was writing earlier this year. But I need to rewire my brain. There is no such thing as 'good' or 'bad' when it comes to fanfiction. All fanfiction is good fanfiction. This is our hobby, not our jobs, and we need to be kind to ourselves.

I am posting this at 11:59pm on New Year's Eve. Happy new year y'all, I hope Joel and Pin can bring you some festive cheer ❤️

Joel is this close to have a fucking breakdown.

He would measure out how close this is between his thumb and index finger if they were not currently tangled in webs of yarn, rapidly unravelling from from the bottom of what is supposed to be a sweater.

Your sweater.

The book that Lucy lent him months ago lies on the table before him, the pages yellowed and dogeared, open at the the easiest pattern of the lot to knit - a simple pullover in chunky yarn, in your favourite colour.

Well, it was supposed to be easy, anyway.

Despite Lucy basically holding his hand throughout the whole project, he’s had far less time than anticipated to work on it. Too many nights he finds himself at Tommy and Maria’s, elbow deep in dirty baby’s clothes and diapers, making himself useful for whatever needs to be done around the house. 

Even Ellie chips in without being asked, often bringing back food from the canteen and making sure the severely sleep-deprived adults are eating, if not well fed. Joel honestly doesn’t remember how he did it with Sarah as a clueless twenty-something, with an even more clueless younger brother.

As he attempts to free himself from the quagmire of wool, he grimaces at the stiffness all over his body, feeling it especially in his back after sleeping in an armchair all night with a rapidly growing two-month old.

He’s too old for this shit - but there’s no saying no to the little rascal with Tommy’s nose and Maria’s eyes.

The knitting needles clatter to the floor when he jumps at the front door opening and slamming shut, a frustrated fuuuuuuck slipping past his gritted teeth. 

Ellie’s voice rings out loud and clear as she scampers up the stairs, getting progressively louder until she’s outside his study. ‘Hey! Did you remember to put the potatoes in the oven? We have to leave for Tommy’s in an hour - dude, what the fuck is happening?’

‘What do you think is happenin’?’ he growls.

Crossing her arms, Ellie leans against the doorframe wearing a far too amused expression. ‘Maria said no gifts.’

Joel rolls his eyes. ‘It’s not for Maria.’

The teenager squints, perplexed, at the bits of wool in his hands. ‘What is that meant to be?’

‘... A sweater.’

Ellie bites her bottom lip, holding in a poorly concealed giggle. ‘I think a sweater is meant to have sleeves.’

‘You think?’

‘Want me to go get Lucy?’

With a heavy sigh, he mutters, ‘Fine.’

At the arch of her half-eyebrow, Joel adds begrudgingly, ‘Please.’

Ellie grins, sneakers skidding on the floorboards as she takes off. ‘Hang in there, old man!’

Despite the cold, his palms are sweaty, sticking to the kraft paper wrapped haphazardly around the even more haphazard package clutched tightly in his right hand. 

The night air mists before him in puffs of white as he shuffles a path through the falling snow. His ears are tingling from the cold, and flexing the stiff, frozen tips of his fingers, Joel knows he should’ve worn his gloves. They weren’t in their usual place by the door though, and he was so frazzled that he barely got his shoes tied up before dashing out the door, sending Ellie ahead with the potatoes (that are definitely undercooked) to his brother’s.

Your cottage glows yellow and orange in the darkness, and your stairs no longer creak when he trudges up them, having fixed them just in time before the first snowfall.

He hears your footsteps come from deep within this house when he knocks. Your eyes are wide when your door cracks open tentatively, but then your lips curve into a smile - the smile that he takes with him and keeps him warm when he has to leave Jackson for days-long patrols.

‘What are you doing here?’ you ask, ushering him inside, not batting an eye at the snow he tracks inside. ‘I thought we were meeting at Maria’s.’

Pressing a kiss to your lips, he softens at the way you lift your face towards him to catch it, careful to keep the parcel out of sight behind his back. ‘Yeah, we were, but thought I’d see if you need a hand with anythin’.’

‘Such a gentleman,’ you tease. 

A low fire burns in the hearth, the wood he chopped for you in the fall stacked in a tidy pile next to the mantelpiece. Sweeping his eyes across the living space, he spots the book with the cracked spine that he reads when he’s here on the coffee table, next to yours. On the other side of the couch is the Christmas tree that he cut for you, and he watched you dress it up in tinsel and fairylights one night after a quiet dinner and before hot cocoa under thick blankets.

He likes seeing himself at your home. In the things he does for you; in his things, casually scattered around - like they belong in your space.

‘The pies are in the kitchen, could you please put them in a bag?’ you ask. ‘I’ll just grab my coat and we can go.’

‘Sure, sweetheart,’ he answers, waiting until you’ve disappeared into the bedroom before setting down the present under the tree.

He’s leaning against the back of the couch when you pop back in, a few layers deeper than when you left him, the pies nestled safely in a carrier bag by his boots. 

‘Shall we?’ you ask brightly.

Joel hesitates, wondering if he should wait until after dinner to tell you about the present. It only takes his eyes darting to the foot of the tree for the briefest moment for you to catch on. The slow smile that stretches your cheeks and lights up your eyes warms him from the inside out.

You cock your head to one side, playing coy. ‘What’s that, Joel?’

He shrugs, feigning cool. ‘Why don’t you go ahead and find out?’

His chest physically swells at the way you dash towards the tree, landing on your knees in uncharacteristic recklessness, the impact only softened by the rug underneath. You cradle the lumpy package to your chest like something precious. ‘You got me a present.’

He settles on the end of the couch next to you, his heart beating harder in his ribcage than he’d like to admit. ‘Don’t get your hopes up, sweetheart.’

You frown at him. ‘Why?’

‘You’ll see, but I wanted to give it to you anyway.’

You open the package carefully, as if it was wrapped in the fancy paper people used to buy at the shop. Joel holds his breath when you peel it away to reveal what’s inside.

He’s far too inside his own head to hear your inhale that sounds a lot like wonder. You pick up the sweater gently, shaking it out, and Joel winces when he sees it in the flicker of the firelight.

Disastrous doesn’t begin to cover it. Lucy managed to connect the sleeves to the shapeless body in a last-ditch salvage attempt, but one is clearly longer than the other. The stitches are untidy, some have obviously caught onto something and pulled loose. Rough around the edges is putting it kindly.

Joel wants to reach out, grab it, chuck it into the fire and let the flames swallow it whole.

Finally, the silence gets the better of him, and he blurts out. ‘I’m sorry.’

You stare at him, stunned. ‘What?’

Under his whiskers, his cheeks flush in embarrassment, and he rambles, ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinkin’. You deserve better sweetheart, here, let me -’

You almost lose your balance keeping the sweater out of his reach. ‘Don’t you dare, Joel Miller.’

Confused, he watches you rise to your feet, shucking your outer coat and another layer. ‘What are you doin’?’

Grabbing the sweater, you slide it over your head and thread your arms through the sleeves. The soft knit drapes over your curves, too big over your shoulders and the hem falling unevenly, higher on the right side than the left. One sleeve is long enough to cover half your hand, while the other sits right on the wrist.

And yet. 

You’re beaming like you just picked up something at Bloomin’dales or whatever the fuck those department stores were called back then. 

‘I love it,’ you declare, no trace of irony in your voice, as hard as he’s trying to find it.

He scoffs in disbelief. ‘C’mon, sweetheart, you’re just sayin’ it -’

You surprise him, grabbing him by the scruff of his collar and dragging him towards you to plant a firm kiss on his lips. 

��I love it,’ you repeat slowly, with conviction, as if willing him to believe you. ‘Thank you.’

He doesn’t quite still, but he smiles and kisses you back. ‘Merry Christmas, sweetheart.’

‘Since we’re doing this -’ you trail off, sliding out of his grip to reach around the back of the tree, pulling out a neatly wrapped gift. ‘This is for you.’

Joel pauses. 

For him.

For the longest time, nothing had been for him unless it was soul-crushing grief and pain.

And yet here it is - his name on the tag written in your neat handwriting. Something he can hold in his hands. For him.

His fingers tremble when he reaches out. The package is soft, and the paper crackles under his grip. He all but tears it open, uncaring of the way the wrapping falls to the floor.

A laugh bubbles out of his throat, and you look relieved at his reaction. ‘You like it?’

It’s not quite a Santa hat. It’s a chunky dark red beanie with a white brim folded back, and topped with a white pompom. 

‘My ears were so cold walkin’ over. It’s perfect,’ he says, pulling it over the crown of his head. Of course, it fits just right, sliding soft and warm over his ears. He adds with a wink, ‘Y’know what, I might just shimmy down some chimneys after dinner.’

‘As long as you shimmy down mine too,’ you retort, not hearing the euphemism.

Joel quirks an eyebrow at that, one large palm squeezing your backside through the layers. ‘That an open invitation, sweetheart?’

You duck your head, more out of habit than actual shyness, with mischief in your smile. ‘Don’t be so crude, Joel Miller.’

Adjusting his new hat so that it sits comfortably, he points at the pompom and jokes, ‘Shame I can’t wear this on patrols.’

Right on cue, you hold up a finger. ‘Funny you should say that.’

He chuckles when you pull out a second, plain black beanie, as if out of thin air. ‘You really thought of everythin’, sweetheart.’

You shrug playfully. ‘I’m smart like that.’

‘I know you are,’ he smiles.

‘Merry Christmas, Joel.’

His lips find yours again in a slow, lingering kiss that has you leaning into him for more when he pulls back. ‘Thank you. For everythin’.’

You hold his gaze - heavy with meaning, light with joy. It wouldn’t take more than a tilt of the head towards the bedroom to derail your evening plans, and you both know it.

In the end, you’re the one who stays strong. Taking one step back from his warmth, you reach for your coat. ‘We’re late, we should go.’

His eyes widen. ‘Wait - you’re not wearin’ that to dinner are you?’

‘Of course I am,’ you say, buttoning up your coat over the sweater.

‘You don’t have to, sweetheart,’ he almost pleads with you.

You grin, heading for the door, blowing out candles as you go. ‘Too bad, I’m never taking it off.’

Joel shakes his head with a wry huff. ‘Well, I hope not never -’

You have one foot out the door when you suddenly remember. ‘I almost forgot - you left your gloves here last time. They’re in the cupboard by the door.’

Ah, that’s where they went. He opens the drawer and pulls them on, one after the other, the leather, worn smooth with age, creaking as he wraps his fingers around the handles of the carrier bag.

Joel is about to follow you out the door when he pauses over the threshold. Glancing down at the black beanie in his grasp, he reaches up and hooks it on the coat rack, nestled among your clothes.

He hopes that when the time comes for him to wear it for the first time - maybe on a patrol that will take him away from you for a few days - it will smell like you.

Gorgeous dividers by @firefly-graphics ❄️

More notes: I hope I will return to the main series in the new year. I've missed these two lovebirds, I hope you enjoyed this little interlude! ❤️

[rs-hawk]

Kinkmas: Day Six

The Father, The Demon and The Church

Slipping into the church wasn’t hard. All he had to do was make up a few documents and dress the part. With a few tweaks thanks to illusions, no one would be able to tell that he wasn’t a priest, except for you. You could feel something was off about the way he smiled at you during mass, or how he always asked you first about confessions, but you just bottled it up. He’s the Father. You don’t have to worry about him, right?

During Christmas Eve Mass, you had wandered outside for a bit of air. It was hot and stuffy inside, and the whole “eating the body of Jesus” thing always made you queasy. You never understood why it had to be phrased the way it was. Just as you had let the cool air cool your hot face, there was the sound of the heavy church doors closing behind you.

“Hello there. Slipping out a little early tonight, aren’t we?” his familiar voice came from behind you.

Your face flushed again as you turned to look at the Father. “Good evening, Father. I just needed a breath of fresh air is all.”

“I’m sure you did,” he mused as he walked over to you, his short black air catching the candlelight pouring from inside. It looked almost oil slicked with a multitude of different colors, but that was gone in an instant.

He sat beside you on the stairs, making you feel a bit self-conscious. Was your skirt too short? Your top too tight? You pulled your jacket closer around you, hoping to rid yourself of those thoughts. You always dressed nicely at church. You were just being paranoid due to the extra attention.

The Father set a hand on your knee, making you jump slightly. He chuckled, leaving it there. “There now, you’re not scared of me, are you?”

“No Father,” you says automatically, though you didn’t look at him now. He slid is hand further up your leg, making you flinch away. “What are you-.”

“Shh, I’m just testing something out that you told me during confessional,” he whispered in your ear, finally gripping your inner thigh.

Your breath hitched, and your mind flashed back to the confessional where he had encouraged you to be completely open with you. You admitted that you lusted, and had wanted to be taken in public without anyone knowing, but where anyone might find out. Is that what he meant? Why would he be testing that?

“You can’t,” you said with a breathy whine, but he already had pushed your panties aside and was teasing your lips with his finger.

Before you could protest further, he slipped a finger inside of you, making you let out a soft whine.

“I can if you keep quiet,” he insisted, a hissing undertone to his voice.

Before you knew it, your legs were wrapped around his hips as you rocked back and forth on his fingers, him pumping them in and out of you. When someone opened the church doors, you hid your face in his chest, but he remained calm as he continued to play with your pretty little cunt.

“Yes? Can I help you?” he asked, only turning his head slightly.

“Will you be coming back inside soon, Father? I’m just worried about you getting cold. Father Jones is doing an amazing job, of course, but…,” the man trails off awkwardly.

“I’ll be back in soon. I think I just am a little under the weather and the fresh air is helping,” he replied, curling his fingers inside of you. You had to bite the corner of your cheek to keep from crying out.

The man apologized and wished the Father well before heading back inside. As soon as the door was shut, the Father adjusted you, grinding your dripping cunt against the bulge in his pants. That’s when you really noticed the change. His eyes were dark as night, and his skin seemed… off. Too tight fitting. His teeth were unusually sharp when he smiled at you.

As the realization dawned on you, it was too late. He was able to pull down his trousers and bury his enormous cock inside of you in seconds. All you could is cry out in pleasure as he pumped you up and down. You knew you shouldn’t like it as much as you did, and later you’d blame the demon, but no. You wanted this. Maybe more than you’d wanted anything.

You whined and begged for more in his long, pointed ear. Your lips found every inch of his skin you could manage, only nipping him when his claws dug into your soft skin.

It felt like he would split you open with the way he was moving you up and down, like you weighed nothing and were just a toy for his pleasure. He yanked you down roughly, coaxing a loud moan from your lips. That was when he placed a hand over your stomach, a light tease at how deep he was inside of you.

“What a good girl,” he mused as you were painted in the light pouring from the stained glass.

“Thank you, Father,” you panted, barley able to get it out before he went back to using your soft, human body.

[katszumi]

as the year was coming to a close, it also meant christmas was coming closer.

you were quite fond of this time of year. you were entranced of the green, red and white lights that spread throughout the city. trees decorated with all sorts of ornaments being found at every corner of the streets. how could someone not be enamored of the christmas spirit?

or at least, you knew one person.

bakugou katsuki wasn’t the most spirited person and everyone was aware of it too. but as his assistant, you were given the idea of doing a secret santa with those that worked in his agency.

you were expected to be greeted with one of his usual explosions but surprisingly he agreed without hesitation. quickly you left his office before he could take it back and began the preparations for it.

since you had organized the event, you were aware of who each person had. of course you had to pair mei, the accountant, with her crush, shin’ichi. there wasn’t another perfect way to confess her adoration for him.

weeks had passed for people to prepare gifts for their secret santa and suddenly, the date crept up on them. christmas eve was here, the final day people were in office, so the reveal of secret santa had dawned on them.

since everyone had different schedules, everyone wouldn’t be able to meet at the same time. instead, everyone was told to switch their gifts with another person so that person could place the gift on the designated persons desk, so then no one really knew who had who.

the morning of, the agency was filled with utter surprise and excitement. usually the atmosphere in ground zero’s agency was dim. either the work was piling up or it was too early in the morning to be so chipper. but with the magic of christmas, the spirits were lifted.

you ambled to bakugou’s office, a hum emitting from you. he had to have open his gift by now considering it was nearly noon. you wondered if he would like the gifts that you purchased for him.

you knew it was selfish to put the person you also adored for your secret santa. but you figured it didn’t matter since you went through all of the planning for it, so you had the right to choose whoever you wanted, right?

you knocked on his closed door twice before entering.

“good morning, katsuki.” you greeted him with a small smile on your face.

bakugou sat at his desk, his brow furrowed in confusion. your eyes scanned the area; there were journals and papers sprawled around in a mess. his desk was messy.

it was an eyesore to look at.

but it was an even more eyesore to notice that the gifts you personally placed on his desk were sitting in the corner unopened.

“secret santa is today,” you mentioned as if he didn’t know. “why didn’t you open your gift?”

gruffly, he responded, “too much work to get done.”

“opening and appreciating a gift takes less than two minutes.” irritation was clearly laced in your voice. fortunately, it didn’t go unheard from bakugou. he peeled his eyes off of his work and looked at you.

the male loosened his grip on his pen, giving you all of his attention. the sudden urge to slip away from this situation purged through your body, but you strengthened your legs, demanding yourself not to back down from his immense stare.

“is this gift that important to you?” it felt like he was teasing you. surely he couldn’t know you were the one that had him for secret santa when he didn’t even open his gift!

masking a strong look, you cleared your throat, “just want you to enjoy yourself on this christmas, bakugou. you deserve to have fun and not be consumed with work all the time. allow yourself to appreciate those around you and what you do have.” bakugou slowly nodded. “now, i must go to my office if that’s alright with you.”

bakugou chuckled to himself, a small grin forming. “granted.” was all he had to say. you turned on your heel and left him be.

meanwhile on the walk back to your office, you murmured under your breath. you were angry that you spent so much on him just for him to not even be curious of the gifts that were beautifully arranged on his desk.

how much of an asshole did he have to be? he couldn’t even open a gift for two seconds to appreciate the thoughtfulness someone put in for him. you scoffed, that was definitely the last time he would be included for a secret santa.

once you made your arrival to your office, you noticed the way the door was ajar. it had reminded you that someone still had you for secret santa.

removing bakugou’s impertinent attitude from your memory, you pushed the door open.

your eyes fell on the christmas floral bouquet that was on your desk along with a box. immediately you rushed over to look at what resided inside the box. your eyes made out a heart-shaped necklace that had your initial graved into it. next to it was a candle, one that was your favorite scent. instinctively, you began to open the candle to get a whiff of it.

you didn’t remember putting this on the secret santa list, so how in the world did someone manage to get your favorite scent spot on? only those who had been in your apartment before would’ve known.

and the only person that has been is..

inside the candle was a note. you whipped it out, unraveling its trifold.

i’m not the best at shopping but tonight let me show you i’m a better cook than doing things like this. i appreciate you a lot. you’re a good assistant or whatever. also, i knew you had me for secret santa from the get-go. you’re not the best at keeping secrets.

— katsuki

“he KNEW?” you yelped. you had one job and you completely blew it. but your mind transferred to the thought of having dinner with your boss later tonight. the ground zero. heat crept on your face, your heart beginning to stammer.

you wondered if he also managed to find out about your complete utter crush on him as well.

EXTRA

“you owe me three dollars and a hour of my time.” kirishima sat in front of bakugou with a scowl on his face.

bakugou rolled his eyes, “you barely even did anything.”

“you made me run around town to find a specific roll of wrapping paper so you can rewrap a gift you’ve already opened?! did you know only one store had that wrapping paper?” kirishima whispered yelled, not wanting any of the employees to hear the dispute.

“yes and i told you i appreciated it.”

kirishima opened his mouth to spew another insult, but instead he snapped his mouth shut. he was right. bakugou never said anything related to that, so he must’ve really meant it. instead, kirishima folded his arms and sat back.

“i don’t even know why you rewrapped the gift. you should’ve just thanked her while she was in the room.”

“i was red when i opened the gift. i’d probably be red and probably dead when she’d smile all in my face asking if she did a good job.” bakugou’s words were hushed from embarrassment.

“awe, you really like her don’t you?” bakugou could tell kirishima was teasing him, but he didn’t mind. maybe you were right. there was some sort of magic that happened during christmas time. why were your words so influential on him?

bakugou didn’t hide the smile that tugged on his lips.

“maybe.”

-

happy holidays guysss!!