#or that the people he buried could just like breathe through snow?

[galaxythreads]

Aang, out of nowhere: I can't kill Ozai. It's against the monk's code. :( I need to go on a spiritual journey on a tiger rock.

Also Aang through book 1-book 3 until the last episode at any given opportunity:

[xyywrites]

How to use weather as a mood enhancer in scenes

Weather is more than a backdrop—it’s a tool that can subtly amplify the mood, tension, or theme of your scenes. Done well, it can evoke emotions and foreshadow events without being heavy-handed. 

Melancholy:

The rain tapped against the window, steady and unrelenting, much like the weight pressing down on her chest. She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders, wishing the storm outside could drown out the one inside.

Restlessness:

The wind howled through the cracks of the old cabin, rattling the loose shutters. It wasn’t the kind of wind that swept things away—it was the kind that stayed and gnawed, a restless echo of her own unease.

A Happy Scene with Gloomy Weather:

Rain poured down in sheets, soaking her to the bone, but she didn’t care. She laughed, spinning in the middle of the street, her soaked dress clinging to her legs. For once, the world’s misery couldn’t touch her.

A Tragic Scene on a Bright Day:

The sun was too bright, its warmth mocking the cold numbness spreading through him. People bustled past, smiling under the clear blue sky, while he sat on the curb, clutching the letter that had just ended everything.

In a Chase Scene:

Fog blanketed the forest, turning the trees into looming specters. Each snap of a branch or crunch of leaves felt amplified, like the forest itself was working against him. He couldn’t see his pursuers, but he could feel them closing in.

During a Confrontation:

The wind picked up as they stood in the open field, her hair whipping around her face like a fury she couldn’t contain. Lightning cracked in the distance, illuminating the raw anger in his eyes. Neither of them would back down.

Redemption Arc:

The first snow of the season fell gently, covering the world in white. It felt like a fresh start, even if he didn’t deserve one. He reached out a hand, watching the flakes melt against his skin, and wondered if he could ever be that clean again.

Grief:

The fog rolled in every morning like clockwork, smothering the town in its heavy embrace. It had been that way since the accident, as if even the weather couldn’t bear to let go of what had been lost.

Loneliness:

The snow piled up around the cabin, burying the path and muffling every sound. She’d never felt the silence so keenly before, as if the world had decided to forget her existence entirely.

Isolation:

The heat hung heavy in the air, making it hard to breathe. The cracked earth stretched out in every direction, offering no shade, no solace. She was utterly alone.

Subtle Anxiety:

A bead of sweat slid down her back, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the heat or the unease that had settled under her skin. The humidity pressed in, making the air feel heavier, like it carried secrets she didn’t want to uncover.

Lingering Sadness:

The drizzle wasn’t enough to drench anyone, but it clung to her skin, a persistent chill she couldn’t shake no matter how fast she walked.

Weather isn’t just a backdrop—it’s a storyteller in its own right. Whether it mirrors your character’s emotions, foreshadows danger, or contrasts with the scene’s tone, it can elevate your writing when used thoughtfully. Just remember: subtlety is key. Let weather enhance your story, not overshadow it.

[keferon]

Part 4 of Drift/Deadlock and Hot Rods adventure in the mecha au!

Here comes the Sun do do do do- here comes the Sun at Mach five.

———————————————————————

Deadlock needed to kill something. Badly.

He’d kept it together through Ratchets confession. And he kept a relaxed mischievous banter going from the Hangar all the way to Ratchets makeshift clinic. When they finally arrived in Dead En-

The refugee camp. It was called a refugee camp and nothing else.

Deadlock almost transformed in the fragging middle of a refugee camp.

The memory snuck up on him okay?

Ever since he cracked open that one, tiny, memory from before he was Deadlock, pieces of Drift kept floating to the surface.

He gave Ratchet a quick goodbye, saying he needed something to eat. And sped off before the medic could question him.

He needed violence and isolation. Needed to reset his whole damn processor and banging his helm against a hard-organic-stick-thing? Whatever the fuck. Frag? Ugh. It wasn’t working.

He was shaky, couldn’t focus. His chassis felt like it was put inside a vise and someone who hated him had control of the handle.

Ratchet had been a breath of fresh air when Deadlock hadn’t even known he was buried alive. And since then the medic had been stubbornly digging him the rest of the way out.

It. Just felt good.

Being cared for. Being able to relax around someone. And knowing with absolute certainty it wasn’t just an act.

He got used to it. Comfortable with a certain level of vulnerability. Then Ratchet brought in Hot Rod.

If Ratchet was a breeze that slipped inside Deadlocks mental fortress, then Hot Rod was a Fragging bunker busting missile. None of it felt like he deserved it.

Ratchet laid out his spark for judgement. Because Ratchet, amazing and wonderful and impossible Ratchet, didn’t want Deadlock to be stuck with someone like him.

Something shitty inside him whispered, “What if Ratchet doesn’t want to be stuck with someone like him?”

He ignored it. Pushed it down. He didn’t leak coolant over slag like that. He didn’t need people like Ratchet or Hot Rod in his life. He just really, really wanted them in his life. For completely selfish Decepticon-y reasons.

You’d die for them you know.

Shut up.

Deadlock’s processor wouldn’t stop spinning.

He felt exposed.

He felt like slag.

He felt like Drift.

So Deadlock set out to do the most Deadlock thing he could think of.

———————————————————————

Deadlock fucked up.

Deadlock fucked up very badly.

Snow was getting caught in his optics, melting on contact into a slush that made it that much harder to see.

The fragging swarm of quintesson scouts surrounding him were not having that same problem.

They moved in a pack. Smaller and smarter than the standard issue quints that normally devastated the planet, these things unfortunately had a tiny sense of self preservation which made mowing them down that much more difficult.

Deadlock was forced to constantly turn on his peds to avoid the majority of the quints that kept going after his back. There wasn’t a moment he wasn’t beating them off with the stock of his rifle. He couldn’t switch to any close range weapons because if he stopped fighting them off for even a second, the quints would rush him all at once, forcing him to continue.

Couldn’t stop moving for the same reason.

They kept trying to get behind him. Snapping barbed tendrils at the backs of his knees, the gaps of his armor. Trying to force him down.

If I fall I’m dead.

Deadlocks vents were screaming. A brave little fragger went for his face, Deadlock swung his rifle like a bat.

Distraction.

Shooting pain went through the back of his left knee joint. Something with barbs was forcing it apart. Something tore.

Deadlock immediately brought down the barrel through an eye socket and pulled the trigger. Didn’t have time to register if the quint was dead before another one came at him from the opposite side. His peds dragged furrows through the earth and snow. Spinning. He had to keep spinning.

He was slowing.

If I fall I’m dead.

The quints redoubled their efforts to get behind him. More lashes at his back. Another quint darting the other direction. Didn’t even attack. But Deadlock wasn’t ready for the feint and swung at empty air.

The pack leapt at his back as one.

I’m going to die.

Deadlock wedged his rifle between him and the ground. The quintessons tore into his back but the weight was too much to throw off without help.

I’m not gonna see them again.

The rifle dug into his pauldron.

I don’t want to die.

A tendril wrapped around his neck. He clawed at it.

I don’t want to die like this.

One of them was dragging a ped backwards. Forcing his weight onto his injured knee.

I don’t want to die alone.

Drift screamed.

For a moment, from the corner of his blurry optics, he saw a light growing brighter and brighter.

“Huh”, Drift thought deliriously. “I always figured the last light you see before death would appear in front of you.”

IMPACT against the mob at his back sent Drift and the quintesson scouts scattering across the ground.

He fell.

He wasn’t dead.

Deadlock scrambled into an upright kneel, ignoring the lightning like pain shooting up his knee.

Leaning on his rifle, Deadlock saw another mech. Orange and gold with propane blue lights, he had multiple quints trapped in a bear hug. What hit him the hardest was an EM field overflowing with wild, unrestrained joy.

“HOT ROD?!?”

The mecha pilot only got about half the squirmy, bite-y little scrappers in the hold. The other half were quickly shaking off probable Roddy-induced concussions and began leaping at the nearest, newest prone target.

Hot Rod waved.

“Hey dude! Holy shit, that gun looks awesome!” Deadlock looked on in disbelief as more quintessons piled onto Hot Rod.

“What are you doing?! Rod get up!” Deadlock lurched to his feet, his last few thoughts repeated like a skipping track.

I was going to die. I was going to die. Hot Rod is going to die.

The cybertronian rushed towards the mecha. Hot Rod released the remaining quints who quickly turned to join the crushing mass subsuming him.

Hot Rod raised a hand, “Stop! Stop! Don’t get closer!”

Deadlock stopped just short of where the quints would turn on him. “Are you insane?! I’m trying to help you!”

“Just trust me!” Half of Hot Rod’s helm was covered in blackish tendrils. “And then help me in about five seconds!” Orange and gold disappeared under the writhing mass, the light snuffed out before Deadlocks optics.

He finally subspaced his rifle, switching to duel short range handguns that were both messy and loud. He counted five, fucking human seconds.

Something happened to the mass. The squirming suddenly stopped, and in the gaps of the knots surrounding Hot Rod, Deadlock saw something start to glow.

In the next instance, the quintessons exploded off of the mecha. Partially from the act of fleeing, entirely because Hot Rod was completely engulfed in flames.

“WOO! Now the party can get started!” Hot Rod wasted no time in engaging duel flamethrowers and began chasing after the remaining quints with manic glee.

Deadlock stopped questioning shit and started shooting with a vengeance.

Soon enough, the field around them was littered with the quintesson scouts burned and shredded remains.

Deadlocks vents were finally kicking down from maximum and he finally managed to wipe the stupid slagging slush out of his optics.

For the moment his eyes were offline, Deadlock felt a spike of happy that almost bowled him over. A half second before Hot Rod physically bowled him over.

Deadlock’s overtaxed fight or flight systems just gave the fuck up and let the tackle happen.

Hot Rod had him in a tight enough embrace he wasn’t sure he could have gotten away anyways.

“Holy shit I thought you were going to die.” Hot Rod crushed him to his chassis. The twin waves of Worry and Relief were doing things to his processor again. Deadlock (Drift?) was still feeling the aftershocks of it all. Memories skipped again. I’m going to die.

Dea-Dri- he wrapped his shaking arms around Hot Rod. Later, he could just say his knee gave out. Everything was spinning. Wait. No. Hot Rod picked him up and was spinning with him.

“You’re so lil now!” Hot Rod was ecstatic.

Deadlock was back. “Put me down. Gently.”

Hot Rod acquiesced, but seeing Deadlock nearly fall on his own, took the liberty of slinging one of his arms over his shoulders.

“M’kay. You look like shit. Need help walking back to Ratchets? Or can you drive?”

Deadlocks knee and entire back ached, but it wasn’t so debilitating once he’s had a chance to process it for a click.

“Uh, I think I’ll be okay to drive once I get to a road.” Hot Rod pulled him a little more securely into the supporting hold and started walking in the direction of the nearest road.

“Man, that’s still so cool you can do that. I wish I could turn into a car.”

Deadlock snorted, “Oh I’m sure if you keep practicing you’ll figure it out. Try stretching.”

Hot Rod laughed. It was so weird to think there was just a little guy in there. Sitting in like, a fancy cup holder. He sounded like the real thing. Moved like it too. If Deadlock hadn’t met Hot Rod the human first, the uncanny valley would have tipped him off something was wrong, but teeny tiny guy in a big person-puppet would not be his first guess.

Hot Rod stopped short, snapping his helm toward Deadlock.

“Wait. Do you ever drop off Ratchet at the shatterdome?”

Deadlock rolled his optics at the third near spark attack Hot Rod had given him that day.

“Yeeeah?”

Excitement started bubbling over.

“YOU’RE THE MOB BOYFRIEND?!” Hot Rod was stomping his peds while scream-laughing, probably because he couldn’t go for a run without dropping Deadlock.

“Dude! Dude dude dude. Pharma haaates you!”

Well that put Deadlock in a better mood. Albeit, only due to a “misunderstanding”.

“S’not like that. I just give him a lift sometimes. Make sure he doesn’t forget his lunch. Or to take care of himself. We’re not, you know.” Deadlock was pointedly looking the other direction.

Hot Rods cackled at the confirmation of the rumor, and his field steadily shifted towards mischief.

“Oooh Ratchet!” Hot Rod had begun speaking in a falsetto voice. “I love you sooo much! I’m from space but my favorite stars are the ones twinkling in your eyes! I wanna drive you to every beautiful place on this planet and when we finally come home we can watch Golden Girls while you pet my big bald metal head!”

“I’m going to punt you into a fragging Sun.”

Hot Rod laughed harder. He started making some weird wheezing noise that Deadlock hoped meant the imaginary strangling he was doing was working.

“THE UNICRON DAMNED SUN.”

Deadlock’s threatening was severely undercut by the fact that he was laughing now as well. They’d just about made it to the edge of the forest when Hot Rod asked a question that made Deadlock freeze.

“How’d you piss off so many scouts at once anyways? They’re normally way too spread out to all be grouped together like that.”

There were only two times when a pack of quintesson scouts were all gathered in the same place. When they first get dropped off, and when they gather to get picked back up.

Deadlock unhooked his arm from Hot Rod, turning behind them.

The change in air pressure made his finales tingle. Between the snow and the darkness, it was almost impossible to spot with the untrained optic. The snow had stopped falling. It was being blocked.

“Oooh shit.” Hot Rod checked the fuel levels on his flame throwers, glancing between those and the telltale green bio lights of the fuck off massive quintesson descending like the lethargic offspring of a meteor and a shark.

Deadlock brought out two of his heaviest duty guns. And then a third he handed handle first to Hot Rod. Ratchet had only warned him against encouraging Hot Rod’s stupid ideas.

Hot Rod was now looking rapidly between three points of interest.

“Wha-?”

Deadlock gave Hot Rod a gun.

“Do not tell Ratchet.”

Hot Rod held up the side arm. Focus zeroed in. Pretty nasty piece that looked more intimidating than it was. Slagged range but it packed enough of a punch to be worth keeping. Covered in spikes and blades and heavy enough to act as a crude but very nasty club, it was also one of the most over the top looking things Deadlock owned.

Hot Rod’s free hand started flapping faster and faster. His peds similarly bounced rapidly in place, until Deadlock was certain he was about to combust. Hot Rod was making A noise. One that was steadily rising in both pitch and volume. His field going supernova.

The quintesson broke through the clouds, maw open, carving up the earth before them with the bottom of its jaw. A cliffside of teeth was closing in at speed.

Hot Rod screamed.

And Deadlock followed suit.

Sprinting towards death, guns blazing and voices raised in preemptive victory, Deadlock and maybe also Drift, had a suspicion the he and Hot Rod were friends in every universe.

Much to the terror of everyone else.

———————————————————————

And that’s the soft finale to this tale!

Over the course of writing this, the story kept getting longer, but the two scenes it started with were “Hot Rod Meets Deadlock” and “Hot Rod Saves Deadlock” and then more ideas kept popping in between those two scenes.

There is more I plan on writing for these dipshits as well as Jazz and Prowl now but we’ll see what comes first.

I just wanted to say as well that @keferon you are a very talented writer and you’re the reason I was brave enough to share my own stuff. You fit so many little details into your work that just hits like a hammer down the line.

-SSTP

THE SWEET SWEET COMFORT YESSS THE SHENANIGANS!! ABSOLUTELY. Y E S. PL E A S E fklgjgidowjehrkrndhdof

Oh this is amazing. The dynamic you give them. The enERGY. It's like a candy for my soul I love it so so much ogkfhdgd I'm so happy you decided to share your writing! It's filled with joy and and I-dont-fucking-know purified enthusiasm?? I can't remember the right words rn but hopefully you get what I mean haha

[moonlitwitchdaisy]

Boyfriend!Sukuna was definitely not a shy man.

As someone who had tried every possible way to embarrass him, neither your actions nor your words ever worked. Every time, he’d look at you with the same seriousness—or even mild annoyance. Did you truly believe you could make him blush? It was ridiculous. There was no way someone as towering and unshakable as him would ever feel embarrassed to the point of turning red. It was simply impossible.

But for you, “impossible” was just a word.

You were leaning against his broad chest, sitting in his lap, as the two of you watched the snow falling onto the garden from your terrace. Sukuna wasn’t exactly the touchy type, but when you insisted, there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for you.

“So, you’ve never been embarrassed?” you asked, your gaze fixed on the snow as it blanketed the greenery outside. Your question earned a low grunt from him.

“I was wondering how long it’d take for you to ruin the moment,” he replied, pausing briefly before adding, “Three minutes and forty-one seconds. Congrats, brat, you broke your previous record.”

His words made you laugh so hard your body shook, though Sukuna couldn’t understand what was so funny about his dead-serious comment. You were a peculiar one, that was for sure.

Suddenly, you shifted in his lap, moving to straddle him. His large hands instinctively settled on your waist, steadying you.

Who would’ve thought being held by four hands could feel this good?

As your fingers trailed through his pink, messy hair, Sukuna’s eyes fluttered shut—something he couldn’t help but do whenever you touched his hair. It always brought him an unexplainable calm, a sense of peace he found nowhere else.

“I’m good at breaking records,” you teased, a bright smile lighting up your face. Sukuna didn’t open his eyes, but you caught the faintest upward twitch of his lips—a rare, fleeting moment of softness.

“I can see that. You surprise me more and more every day, you cheeky brat.” The crimson eyes that most people found cursed and terrifying locked onto yours, though you found them utterly irresistible. While he’d never admit it, seeing you smile made everything in his world feel a little brighter.

Slowly, he leaned in, nuzzling his head against the soft curve of your neck. His lips found the sensitive spot behind your ear, and he planted a gentle kiss there, letting his teeth graze your skin ever so slightly.

“Just one touch…” His warm breath sent shivers down your spine. “One single touch is enough to turn your neck red. I’d bet your cheeks are even redder than your neck right now.”

He was right. Your cheeks were undoubtedly burning like wildfire. You knew your face had turned a shade rivaling a clown’s red nose.

“Kuna—”

“I want you right here.” His deep voice resonated through you. “Watching the snow while I bury myself inside your warm, tight little pussy.”

If you stayed like this any longer, everything he said would probably happen. You were already sore from last night. Besides, it was Christmas Day, and you wanted to do something other than just have sex with your boyfriend.

With great difficulty, you pulled his massive head away from you. If he wanted to stop you, he could have, but if he did, he’d probably have to endure you complaining to him for two hours.

Still holding his head, you scolded him, “Nuh-uh. Last night you nearly broke my back.” Furrowing your brows, you let go of his head and stood up. “I’m going to make us some hot chocolate, and don’t even try that ‘I don’t like sweet things’ excuse. I know who ate the Oreo Milka I bought two days ago.”

As you walked off the terrace toward the kitchen, you called out loudly, “Be a good boy, Sukuna, and maybe I’ll let you have me on the terrace later.”

Magic words didn’t always have to be “please.” After all, the word “please” didn’t even exist in Sukuna’s vocabulary. But if he had to pick one magical phrase, it would undoubtedly be “good boy.”

Those two words were enough to make your supposedly unshakable boyfriend blush furiously and feel his heart race in his chest.

It wasn’t the first time you’d called him “good boy,” but every time you did, he somehow managed to hide his face, avoiding your gaze.

Boyfriend!Sukuna who made others kneel at his feet, who inspired fear with his towering figure and unmatched strength, could turn into a shy mess with just two simple words from you: “good boy.”

a little note: can i get a little commotion for my red ribbon divider 😌

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

[junkdrawerfics]

You're Scaring Me

Jasper Hale X Reader

Summary: Request - Can you write one where the reader does something major told her not to do and he gets mad when he finds out and then jasper tries to console her and she’s jus really guilty and upset and then the major comes back out and they talk it thru.

Word Count: 3558

Warning: Angsty maybe. Obviously some unhealthy anger stuff, but it ends well, I promise.

Note: I liked the idea of doing something with the wolves, but felt Jasper/the Major wouldn't ask you to stay away from people, especially if they were your friends. So I took a route regarding reader's safety, since he'd totally go feral over that.

---

Saying Forks was in the middle of a blizzard would be an under exaggeration.

You’d never seen snow like this. You could barely see past your front porch, it was coming down so hard. School had been canceled, of course, and Emmett had convinced the family it would be fun to try hunting with the added challenge of not being able to see.

Jasper had hesitated to join at first, to leave you alone in this storm since your parents were away, but it only took a little soft convincing from you for him to relent.

On one term, at least

“Please stay here ‘til we get back,” the blond repeats worriedly as he puts on a coat - that he doesn’t need, you might add

“It’s not that bad out, Jasper,” you chuckle, eyes glued out the window.

“Darlin.”

His voice shifts subtly. You blink, glancing back at him over your shoulder. Jasper stares right back at you, eyes narrowed, a familiar intensity burning behind them. Your body figures it out before you do, fine hairs standing on end, pupils dilating. A sharp contradiction to the smile that lights up your face.

“Yes, Major?” You ask, barely missing a beat. 

The man takes a step towards you, hands clasped behind his back, shoulders straight. It’d be intimidating if you didn’t know better.

“You goin’ to listen for me?” He asks, voice low, accent thicker than before.

“Of course, Major.”

The barest flicker of a smile pulls at the vampire’s lips. Such a sweet thing. The way you look at him - all wide, puppy dog eyes, attentive and loving - it makes him feel raw with the need to protect you, even if it’s just from the blizzard.

Tender in a way he’s never been, the Major touches your chin, drawing close enough that he can feel your warm breath stutter against his lips as he murmurs, “Then be a good girl and stay put for me. I don’t want you out in this weather.”

You can’t help but soften, fondness curling in your chest. He really is just a soft teddy bear at his core. 

“You don’t have to worry about me,” you insist, curling your arms around his waist, “I won’t go out, I promise.”

“Good.” The Major closes the small gap between you, lips pressing against yours in an unrelenting kiss. It’s all you can do to keep yourself upright as his hand curls along your jaw, drawing you closer, closer, until your head is spinning from the feeling. You’d think he’s going off to war again by the way he kisses you.

You can barely catch your breath when he pulls away. Heat blooms across your cheeks, and you bury your face in his chest to hide it, which earns a low chuckle from the blond. He presses another kiss to your temple, this one softer, gentler.

“Love you, darlin,” he murmurs, all honey and sweet and Jasper again.

You melt against him, voice muffled by his sweater, “Love you too, Jazz. Stay safe, please.”

“I won’t be long,” he reassures you, “Emmett will give in when he realizes all the animals are hidin’ from the weather.”

You huff a laugh. Perhaps. Emmett is stubborn, reckless, and stubbornly reckless. Once he has an idea in his mind, it’s hard to get him off it, like today. But you’re sure Jasper’s right. He’ll give up once he gets bored.

“I’ll hold you to that mister. I’ll be lonely without you.”

“Well, we can’t have that, now can we?” He leans down, catching your lips one final time. You can feel his grin through the kiss. “Just a couple hours, darlin’. I’ll drag him back if I have to after that.”

He’s still reluctant to leave, but the nagging worries are quieter now, enough that he can drag himself from the comfort of your touch to join his brothers outside. You watch them disappear into the haze of snow, like ghosts, before shuffling back to your kitchen to work on some homework.

It shouldn’t be so hard to stay busy until they get back. Right?

---

That’s what you thought, at least. But one hour quickly turns to two, which quickly turns to three and still no Jasper. By the fifth hour, you’ve finished all your work and find yourself staring into an empty fridge with a growling stomach.

Of course your parents would forget to stock up before going on a business trip.

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you glance outside. It’s still snowing, but not…as bad. You could probably make it to the grocery store and back without any problems. And you’d probably get back before they do, so Jasper wouldn’t even know.

Everything would be fine.

You layer up, tucking a scarf tightly around your neck. It might be a little lighter outside, but it’s still well below freezing. It’ll be quick, though. The grocer is maybe a five minute walk, and you only need a couple things.

Popping your hood up, you grab your house keys and venture out, shuffling the whole way there.

---

“Brave of you to venture out in this,” the cashier chimes, scanning your microwave meal and milk - you figure you might as well get stuff for breakfast too.

“Didn’t have much of a choice,” you hum shakily, teeth still chattering as you hand him some cash, “I’d rather be cold for a bit instead of going hungry.”

“Fair ‘nough!” The cash register dings and he hands you some change. “Stay safe out there, miss.”

“Thanks.” You cast him a smile, “You too. Hope it clears up a bit before you have to leave.”

“God willing.”

You slip your gloves back on and heave the bag of supplies from the counter. 

On the walk back, you’re a little less careful, eyes wandering as you tread through the snow. The journey here hadn’t been so bad. Sure you’d almost slipped a few times, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as you thought it’d be. It was actually almost nice, once your face went numb at least.

Your thoughts wander to the food in your hands, pace picking up a bit as you think about how nice a warm meal will be after this. And well earned after a long day of work and a hazardous journey to get it. Maybe you could cuddle up on the couch and turn on a movie while you eat. That sounds ni-

-and you’re falling.

You screech, boots slipping against the ice as the world tilts wildly. Instinctually, your eyes squeeze shut and you wait for the impact, hoping your layers might be enough to cushion the fall.

They are, thankfully. But they aren’t enough to stop your ankle from twisting as you tumble a bit off the sidewalk.

The pain is instant. It pulses up your leg, sharp and fiery compared to the cold seeping into your bones. You suck in a sharp breath, teeth gritting as you bury your face in the snow. It’s all you can do to keep yourself from crying, that stinging sensation starting in your eyes, a lump forming in your throat.

God, you’re so screwed.

—

“Darlin, I’m back,” Jasper calls out softly, brushing the ice from his hair as he slips into your warm house.

Almost instantly, he can tell something’s wrong. Jasper stops, brow furrowing. Usually you’d be bounding up to tackle him by now, a beautiful smile on your lips, asking how things went. It’s something constant, a custom he enjoys more than he’ll admit.

There’s no greeting this time, though. Even as he stills, focusing on the sounds of the house, he can’t hear a thing. No footsteps, no heartbeat. It’s eerily silent, empty. 

You’re not here.

An uneasy feeling settles in his chest. Jasper speeds through the house, checking each room, hoping his ears are just tricking him. Maybe you’re just asleep or reading in some corner. With each empty room, though, the feeling worsens, gripping him by the throat, unrelenting and violent. He’s spiraling, he knows it, can tell he’s walking along an all too familiar edge, blurred between himself and-

The Major pauses at the door to your bedroom. Empty. Your coat isn’t where you usually leave it. Neither are your boots. It leaves little doubt in his mind where you’ve gone.

You didn’t listen to him. 

The blond takes a slow breath, holding back the anger that washes over him, white hot and smoldering. 

It’s rare for you to not listen to him. You know his none-too-gentle requests are for your safety, they always are. Because while Jasper would rather die a million times than see you hurt, the Major would bring the world to its knees if it meant keeping you safe. He’s never had something as good as you in his life and the need to protect that, to protect you, well - that drives him to his knees. And now you’re out in this storm. By yourself.

The door slams as he throws himself back out into the snow to find you.

---

The snow is picking up, you notice glumly as you carefully flip over in the snow. Even the slightest movement makes pain prickle up your leg, but you can’t lay face down in the snow much longer, not with how you’re quickly losing feeling in your nose.

You sniffle, swiping at your eyes to keep the tears away. What are you supposed to do now? It’s not like you can stay out here. Frostbite doesn’t exactly sound appealing, but neither does the idea of limping home with this pain. You could call…No, no, he’d be so mad. You can’t call Jasper.

Not that fate really cares about what you think.

You squeak when a pair of arms suddenly lifts you out of the snow. The only thing that keeps you from screaming is the familiar cold touch of your captor and the mess of blond hair flickering in the snowy breeze. The fear slowly disappears when you realize it’s just Jasper.

Quickly replaced by a tight, anxious feeling in your chest when you see the tense set of his jaw and how the lines in his neck stand out under his pale skin. He’s upset. He’s upset with you and your ankle is still throbbing and your eyes are stinging again and-

You inhale shakily, an apology ready to spill off your lips, but the look he gives you makes it all die on your tongue. His usually stoic expression turns dark, eyes narrowed with barely restrained anger.

“You open that mouth, sugar, and I promise I won’t be goin’ easy on you,” he drawls, low and heavy, accent dripping off each word.

Not Jasper. You bite your lip, eyes immediately dropping to your lap. Definitely not Jasper.

You can’t bring yourself to break the stifling silence after that. Not when you can practically feel the Major’s anger radiating from him, which does nothing to ease the turmoil swirling inside of you. The soldier is never this open with his emotions, usually so careful to maintain a mask of indifference. With each step, you can feel the tension rising, his grip tightening, and your chest almost hurts from how hard your heart is beating.

It all comes to a head when you make it to the house. The moment your feet hit the ground, and he knows you're safe, the reins of his control slip, an uncontainable rage burning through him.

“I told you not to go out,” he mutters, pacing back and forth in your small entryway. 

He can’t stay still, too scared of what he could do. Every cell in his body desires to pin you against the wall, handle you rough and selfish, make you realize how awful it felt to come back and find you gone. But he can’t. He won’t. That’s not what you deserve, he knows that. Jasper would be better at this, he would be gentle, but the Major has never been good at gentle.

You blink at him, wide-eyed from the door. It’s like watching a lion pace at the bars of a zoo, except there’s nothing between you and him. Nothing to keep you safe except him. He could do anything and you wouldn’t be able to stop him. You’re just a human, after all. And the Major has had his share of violence. Even though you know he would never hurt you, you can’t stop your hands from shaking.

“I wasn’t, I wasn���t going to be out long,” you try and explain, digging your fingers into the material of your coat, “I promise-”

“You promised you’d stay put,” he drawls roughly, hands clenching behind his back.

“I was just goi- going to get food!”

The blond grits his teeth, his usual impassive tone sharpening, “What on earth were you thinkin’?”

“I- I thought I’d be back before you,” you spit out, and immediately snap your mouth shut.

The Major stops pacing, every muscle in his body going rigid. You bite your cheek, pulse racing as he slowly turns to you, those gold eyes burning so dark you swear they almost look red. Like blood. Something tightens in your chest. That was the wrong thing to say.

“So you purposefully disobeyed my orders?”

“I didn’t-”

“You decided to be foolish and risk your life goin’ out in this storm,” he growls, slowly closing the space between you, “without anyone knowin’?”

You shrink back a little, panic clouding your head. The Major stops in front of you, frame towering over yours, making you feel impossibly small. Tears prick at your eyes as you shuffle back against the door, pain shooting up your leg as you put weight on it.

“Answer me, darlin.” He doesn’t relent, eyes burning into you. Waiting.

A lump forms in your throat. You bite your cheek, desperate to keep the tears at bay, eyes glued to his boots. You can’t. You can’t do this.

But the blood drains from your face when a fist slams into the door beside you, practically splintering the wood. You can feel it shake against you before settling into silence.

“I’m not goin’ to ask again, (Y/n),” he murmurs, deadly calm again.

You hold your breath, slowly bringing your eyes back up to the Major, and the look on his face makes your heart drop. It’s drawn into something unnervingly blank, cold. No more anger, just…

“Major-“ A tear breaks down your cheek, your voice unbearably quiet. “You’re scaring me.”

The change is instant.

Like light breaking through the clouds, the emptiness leaves his eyes, filling them back with warmth and concern and love.

And you crumble.

Jasper catches you with ease, arms wrapping around you tenderly as he lowers you both on the ground. You curl into him, face buried in his coat as the tears come freely now. You couldn’t stop them even if you wanted, and you’re just so tired, so hurt. There’s nothing left in you, all you can do is cry and cling to him for dear life.

“‘m sorry, I’m sorry,” you hiccup miserably, and Jasper feels his still heart break. “I’m so sorry, Jazz, I didn’t mean to. I just, I just needed food, and it wasn’t that far, and I thought- I thought-”

He hushes you softly, fingers brushing through your hair as he unwinds the swirling mess of your emotions. You can feel it, you’ve always been able to, the subtle shifts and gentle pulls. Never too much, because he knows you wouldn’t want that, but enough so you’re not drowning in them. 

Eventually you’re calm enough to take a full breath, the air stuttering past your lips as you go limp in Jasper’s hold. He draws you tight against him, brushing his hand down to rest at the nape of your neck, just a comforting, constant pressure. 

“You’ve nothin’ to apologize for, darlin,” he murmurs eventually, voice muffled in your hair. “I’m the one who should be. I had no right treatin’ you like that, no matter how worried I was.”

“But-”

“No,” he cuts you off firmly. “It wasn’t right, darlin. It was my fault for bein’ late. He…He’s mighty overprotective of you, and he- I don’t know how to handle myself well when it comes to you. I hope you can forgive me.”

“I do…” You sniffle, the sound soft and sad, but your grip on him tightens. “But I should’ve listened, then I wouldn’t have slipped and gotten hurt.”

Jasper pulls you back suddenly, brows furrowed in surprise, “What? You’re hurt? Where? Do I need to get Carlisle?”

You laugh weakly, his overwhelming concern easing the tightness left in your chest. The tension drips from your muscles, adrenaline slowing. “No, no, I’m fine. I just, I fell…outside and I think I twisted my ankle, is all.”

“Let me see.”

You squeak as he sweeps you up for the second time today. You wrap your arms around his neck as he carries you to the couch. Every touch is slow, careful, as he sets you down and goes to work on getting your boots off. You wince a little when you have to bend your ankle, and he murmurs a quiet apology.

Relief washes over you though when his cool fingers smooth over your heated skin. It’s like the best ice pack ever. You can’t help but sink into the couch with a sigh, eyes fluttering shut.

Jasper purses his lips. It must have been a bad fall since your ankle is angry and swollen. He should have come back sooner, then this wouldn’t have happened. You wouldn’t have gone out in the storm, you wouldn’t be hurt, and the Major never would have scared you.

His thoughts flashes back to the look on your face. The fear glimmering in your eyes as he leaned over you. It’s burned into his mind, replaying over and over.

“Major, you’re scaring me.”

After a few seconds too long of silence, you peek an eye open. Jasper kneels, statue still in front of you, eyes set on something distant. A frown catches your lips, and you lean forward, touching his chin gingerly. Those gold eyes dart up to you, coming into focus, flicking between their usual warmth and a familiar steeliness. You shake your head fondly.

“Major,” you call, hand resting against his cheek, “come on, let’s talk.”

He straightens ever so slightly, but instead of drawing back like you’d expect, the stoic man covers your hand with his own, turning to skim his nose to the inside of your wrist. He takes a deep breath, eyes closed. You sit there, just like that for a while, watching him quietly.

When he talks, his voice is a low, calm rumble, his lips brushing against your skin, “I’m sorry for actin’ like such an animal, sugar.”

You purse your lips. A part of you wants to just forgive him. Move on from all of this and forget it. But then you remember the sound of his fist hitting the door, the way it resounded in your chest in place of your heartbeat. You’ve never felt like that, and you don’t want to feel like that again.

“I know you were worried,” you start nervously, wetting your lips. The Major doesn’t say a word, eyes set on you patiently, just waiting for you to continue. You take another deep breath, “I know you asked me to stay home and it upset you that I didn’t. I know you want to keep me safe. But…but it scared me, how angry you got, and that’s, that’s not okay.”

“It’s not,” he hums in agreement, thumb brushing soothingly over your pulse.

You nod and feel a little more confident as you go on, “I, I might do something you don’t like in the future, and if I do, you need to talk to me first. Nicely, please. I love you, like I love Jasper, but we’re equals, even if you’re a lot stronger and bigger than me. ” His lips twitch a little in amusement. You shoot him a scolding look, which makes him fall back into seriousness. “I don’t take orders. I listen because I know you care, but you need to listen to me, too. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He pulls your hand back, pressing a brief kiss to your knuckles. It softens you a bit. A small smile draws across your lips. “You have my solemn word, it won't happen again. And my deepest apologies.”

“You’re forgiven,” you chirp. The last of your worries melt away at the smile he gives you, all lopsided and charming. You shake your head with a laugh, “But you owe me, mister.”

“Well, of course,” he concedes easily, desiring nothing more than to cheer you up now, “What can I do for you, little lamb?”

Shifting awkwardly, careful of your ankle, you jab a finger at the plastic bag you dropped by the door, “Make me some dinner! Cause I’m starving and that’s what got us into this mess.”

The vampire laughs, fully laughs. It’s something you don’t get to hear often, so you absolutely love it. Love him and the way his eyes crinkle with mirth as he pushes himself to his feet, tipping a nonexistent hat to you. Jasper.

“It would be my pleasure, darlin.”

“Thanks, hun.”

---

This was SO hard to write! I suck at doing anger, because it's hard to represent the unhealthy relationship stuff. I tried to turn it around cause I believe ultimately he's a respectful man, and that's how I want to portray him.

So I hope you guys like this! Sorry if the pacing's weird or anything, I just wanted to get it done!

[mackandcheezy]

Beneath the White Sheets (Young! President! Coriolanus Snow x Reader)

​​A/N: A simple domestic fluff turned slightly sensual hot, slightly crazy, boyfriend who can’t keep his hands to himself. For my lovely anon who just wanted something less depressing than the typical hunger games fic

People are utterly stupid. At least that’s what Coriolanus had been telling himself for the past two hours. Being made president of Panem was everything he had ever wanted and more but he couldn’t stand how much conversation it involved. He could never stand to fraternize with those less intelligent than himself and that seemed fo be all this was comprised of. Though it all was worth it to come home to you. 

You had met in school, what felt like such a long ago. Started as enemies as all good lovers do, competing to mentor the best tribute for the 10th hunger games. Yours had died before even making it to the arena, a fact Coryo never quite let you forget, or the fact that his won. But you were always quick to remind him that he cheated so it didn’t count. The same small frown would appear on his face at the mention of Lucy Gray. 

You knew they had a history, but you also knew that nobody could ever love you the way he did. On a fundamental level she would always resent who he was, how he was raised, his “kind.” You on the other hand knew what it meant to work your way up from the bottom, to have drive and passion. You were one in the same in that way, but you kept him in check, able to dull some of the red that always tinted the edges of his plans. 

The moment he bursted in the door you knew it had been a bad day even before he started ranting. 

“I can’t BELIEVE these people, it’s like they think the world runs on expensive fabrics and tiny foods.” Coryo threw his suit jacket into the corner of the room, the white coat crumpling like a piece of paper. Running a hand through his hair he finally took the time to look at you properly. 

His eyes raked your form, taking in the way your freshly washed locks framed your face. Your eyes were focused on him, that same worried look ever present on your face, it brought a warm flush to his cheeks. Even a year into marriage it never ceased to surprise him that everyday someone could care. That even after seeing him, the real him with skeletons in the closet, you still loved him— still forgave him. That simple fact was enough to make the stress of the day melt from his body. Shoulders dropping just the tiniest bit, jaw coming unclenched for the first time since he’d left at six am that morning. 

He watched as you shuffled out of bed, in that same night dress that was just sheer enough to hint at what was underneath but not enough to satisfy his desires. Your pebbled nipples poking out just enough to make him want to do nothing more than to take one into his mouth and taste the sweet comfort of home. The thought of the taste of your skin already bringing a burning desire to his mind. 

But you could simply fuck anytime, right now was for something more pure. 

You floated across the room and wrapped your hands around his waist, burying your face in his chest, “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too. I should fire everyone and replace them with you instead, you’re more intelligent that all of them combined,” he placed a greedy kiss to your lips before pulling away, “and much sexier too” his hot breath on your lips making you flush. 

You allowed him to change his clothes wordlessly. Basking in the presence of your lover, Coryo doing the same. Your relationship was built on comfortable silence, if something needed to be said it would, but for now all either one of you needed was to feel the other. 

Like a well rehearsed play you both flowed back to the bed, allowing the cool sheets and soft mattress to absorb your bodies until you met in the middle. Coryo wrapped every open limb around you until you were one. With your ear on his chest you listened to his heart beat. The rhythmic thumping grounding you, this was reality, white sheets and curly blonde hair. 

“I’m scared” that statement sent chills through your body. Never had Coryo admitted to something so-- human in all the time you had known him. 

“Do we have something to be scared for?” 

“The thought of this being temporary fleets my mind often these days, that one day I will have nothing to provide to you anymore” The statement broke your heart. Deep down you knew he cared, even if he tried to convince himself he didn’t. Yet her he was the very thought of letting you down was terrifying. 

“I don’t need anything but you,” You felt the held breath ruffle the strands of hair at the top of your head. “You are enough Coriolanus Snow, I promised myself to you because even a poor beggar I would want nothing more in this life than you” 

“I have never wanted anything more than you” The confession surprised you in a sense. You knew you were an important part of the puzzle, but Panem always seemed to come first. 

You allowed yourself to reflect on that as you watched the sun drop below the skyline of the Capitol, a warm orangey-pink engulfing the room. Allowing yourself to relax in the strong embrace of your husband, and give in to the sleep pulling at your eyes.

[greengoblinswifey]

A Christmas To Remember—Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— Nicholas is away filming and tells you he’s flying to his family for Christmas, leaving you alone. But when you’re on the phone, crying over spending the holiday by yourself, he shows up at your door at midnight, determined to make this Christmas one to remember.

warnings— slight angst, crying, unprotected sex, praise kink, creampie, fluff, perfect christmas ending <3

a/n— lmk if you guys want to be on my nicholas tag list cuz I just tagged people I thought would be on it!!

It was Christmas Eve, and the air was colder than usual, both outside and in your heart. The phone was pressed to your ear as you sat curled up on the couch, the soft glow of the Christmas lights doing little to comfort you. Nicholas’ voice came through the line, warm but distant, just like he was.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he said gently, regret in his tone. “I’ve never spent Christmas away from my family before. It wouldn’t feel right not seeing them.”

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “I get it, Nick. I really do.”

But you didn’t. Not entirely. You understood his love for his family, but this was supposed to be your first Christmas together. You’d envisioned mornings spent in pajamas, unwrapping presents under the tree, and nights filled with laughter and love. Instead, he was across the country, and you were alone.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” he added, his voice hopeful.

Your voice cracked as you replied, “It’s okay. Don’t worry about me. Just- just have a good time with your family.”

Nicholas sighed. “I love you. You know that, right?”

You closed your eyes, tears spilling over. “I know. I love you too.”

The call ended, and the silence in the house became unbearable. You tried to hold it together, but the loneliness hit you like a wave. You buried your face in your hands, sobbing quietly. Your family was out of state, and it was too late to book a trip to see them. This was supposed to be a joyful holiday, but instead, you felt completely alone.

Hours passed, and midnight came. It was officially Christmas, but the weight in your chest didn’t lift. You wiped your face, deciding to head to bed when a knock at the door startled you.

You froze, your heart racing. Who could possibly be here at this hour? Another knock came, louder this time. You slowly approached the door, hesitating before unlocking it.

When you opened it, your breath hitched. Standing there, suitcase in hand and snow dusting his coat, was Nicholas.

“Merry Christmas, gorgeous,” he said softly, his lips curving into a sheepish smile.

“Nicholas?” Your voice was barely above a whisper. “What—what are you doing here? I thought you were—”

He stepped inside, setting his suitcase down and wrapping you in his arms before you could finish. The cold from his coat bit at your skin, but his embrace was warm and safe. “I couldn’t leave you alone,” he murmured against your hair. “I thought I could, but the moment I hung up the phone, I knew I made a mistake. I caught the last flight out.”

Tears welled in your eyes again, but this time, they were tears of relief. You pulled back slightly, your hands clutching the front of his coat. “You’re really here?”

“I’m really here,” he said, his hands coming up to cup your face. “I didn’t want you to spend Christmas alone. You’re my family now too.”

A sob escaped you as you threw your arms around his neck. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

He chuckled softly, brushing your hair back as he looked into your eyes. “I think I do.” Leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, then to your lips, slow and tender, filled with all the love he couldn’t express over the phone.

You pulled back, laughter breaking through your tears. “Your mom is going to kill you.”

“She’ll get over it,” he teased, kicking the door shut behind him and shrugging off his coat. “Right now, this is where I’m supposed to be.”

Taking your hand, he led you to the couch, pulling the blanket over both of you as he nestled close. “Come on,” he said with a soft smile. “Let’s do Christmas the right way—together.”

The two of you sat there, wrapped up in each other as the Christmas lights blinked softly around the room. The ache in your heart faded, replaced by a warmth you hadn’t felt all night.

Nicholas glanced at you, his hand lacing with yours. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

“Merry Christmas,” you whispered, leaning into him. For the first time all night, everything felt perfect.

Nicholas adjusted the blanket around both of you as the two of you nestled closer together on the couch. The twinkling lights on the tree reflected in his warm brown eyes, and his hand found yours, holding it tightly.

“You’re really here,” you murmured again, still trying to process it.

“I’m here,” he whispered, brushing his lips softly against your temple. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re so beautiful,” he added, his voice low but full of admiration.

“Nick,” you said as your breath caught.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in the softest kiss, like he was savoring the moment. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“You’re everything to me,” he murmured. “I can’t believe I almost spent Christmas without you.”

Tears stung your eyes again, but this time, they were tears of happiness. “You’re going to make me cry again,” you teased, your voice trembling slightly.

He chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “Then I guess I’m doing something right.”

The kiss deepened slowly, his hands gently finding your waist as he pulled you closer. You didn’t stop him, feeling the heat of his touch and the love in every movement. The weight of loneliness and the ache of missing him melted away entirely, replaced by warmth.

Nicholas pulled back slightly, his lips hovering just above yours. “You okay?” he asked, his voice filled with concern and love.

You nodded, your hands resting on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “More than okay.”

He smiled, leaning back against the couch and guiding you to rest against him. His arms wrapped around you protectively, and for a while, you simply lay there, enjoying the comfort of being in each other’s presence.

“Can we stay like this forever?” you whispered, your cheek pressed against his chest.

“I’ll stay here as long as you want me to,” he promised, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “But—” He paused, his voice dipping into a playful tone. “Maybe we should make this Christmas a little more special.”

You looked up at him, your brows furrowing in curiosity. “What do you mean?”

He smiled, his hands sliding to your hips as he lifted you slightly, adjusting your position so you were straddling his lap. His gaze softened, full of adoration. “This is your chance to tell me to stop if you don’t want this,” he said quietly, his thumbs brushing small circles on your sides.

Your cheeks flushed, and you buried your face in his neck, suddenly shy. He chuckled, tilting your chin up gently with his fingers.

“Hey,” he whispered, his tone serious but tender. “Look at me.”

You hesitated, then met his gaze, your heart racing.

“Tell me what you want,” he said softly, his lips brushing against your forehead. “I need to hear you say it.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper as you finally said, “I want this.”

His eyes darkened slightly, but his smile widened. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

He stood, lifting you effortlessly into his arms as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “Let’s take this upstairs,” he murmured, kissing your forehead as he carried you to the bedroom.

He set you down gently on the bed, your legs still loosely wrapped around his waist, and pressed a tender kiss to your lips.

“Are you sure?” he murmured against your mouth, his hands steady on your hips.

You nodded, your heart racing as your fingers slid into his soft hair. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

He smiled, his forehead resting against yours as he whispered, “Then let me show you just how much you mean to me.”

He eased you out of your bottoms before he kicked off his, the heat from both your bodies creating a warm, intimate moment. You bit your lip in anticipation as he stroked his hard cock, spreading the pre cum that oozed from the tip. He dragged it along your folds, collecting your wetness and spreading it as your pussy quivered.

“No teasing Nick,” you whined, “I need you right now, I’ve missed you so much.”

He smiled and put your legs over his shoulders, lining up the tip of his cock with your entrance.

“Ready baby?” he asked and you nodded in response.

Slowly, he eased into you, his cock already making you feel full and he was barely in. You groped your boobs, lost in pleasure as his cock bucked inside you and he finally began rutting into your pussy, steadily.

“There we go, you’re taking me so well, princess,” he whispered, kissing your foot on his shoulder.

Your back arched from the bed as the head of his thick cock slammed against your g spot and making your toes curl.

“You’re so beautiful like this, taking it so well, baby,” he said.

He increased his pace, bringing down your feet to wrap around his waist. He leaned down, kissing you all over your face as your body jolted upwards from the new intensity of his pace. Nicholas took his time, making sure you felt cherished in every moment. He praised you endlessly, calling you beautiful, perfect, and everything he’d ever wanted. The intimacy wasn’t just physical, it was a deep emotional connection that solidified just how much you meant to each other.

“Oh my God, baby, I need you to cum with me, please,” he gasped as he felt your pussy clamp around him.

You nodded frantically, wrapping your arms around him as an intense orgasm took ahold of you, causing your entire body to shake. You felt him fill you up at the same time, his warm cum making your pussy flutter and throb.

“Good girl, that’s my beautiful girl,” he cooed, pressing kisses all over your face.

By the time you finished and he had cleaned you up, you both lay tangled in the sheets, your head on his chest, his arm around your waist and nothing but love surrounding you. Nicholas kissed the top of your head, his voice soft as he said, “Merry Christmas again, baby.”

You smiled sleepily, tracing circles on his chest. “Merry Christmas, love.”

You woke to the smell of hot chocolate and the faint sound of Christmas music coming from the living room. For a moment, you stayed under the covers, savoring the warmth of the bed and the realization that Nicholas was really here.

Curiosity got the better of you, though, and you slipped on one of his oversized sweaters and padded into the kitchen. There he was, standing at the stove in plaid pajama pants, humming along to Last Christmas. His messy hair and focused expression made you smile.

“You’re cooking?” you asked, leaning against the doorway.

Nicholas turned, grinning when he saw you. “Good morning, beautiful. And yes, I am. Don’t look so surprised.”

You laughed, crossing the room to peek over his shoulder. “You making pancakes?”

“Attempting to,” he admitted, flipping one with surprising skill. “It’s not going to win any awards, but I figured you deserve breakfast in bed.”

“You’re already winning awards for effort,” you teased, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind.

He turned his head to kiss your forehead. “Sit down. Let me take care of you for once.”

You sat at the table in the corner of the kitchen, watching him plate a surprisingly fluffy stack of pancakes. He set them in front of you, along with hot chocolate and syrup, looking far too proud of himself.

“Taste test,” he said, sitting down across from you. “Be honest.”

You took a bite and smiled. “Nicholas Chavez, you’ve officially passed the boyfriend breakfast challenge.”

He smirked, reaching out to steal a piece. “Told you I could pull it off.”

After breakfast, the two of you settled by the Christmas tree you’d put up weeks ago. Nicholas sat on the floor, his legs stretched out, while you curled up on the couch, your hands wrapped around your mug.

“Okay, gifts time,” he announced, pulling a small box from behind his back. “This one’s for you.”

You eyed the neatly wrapped package, already touched by the care he’d put into it. “You didn’t have to get me anything, Nicholas. You being here is already the best gift.”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “I’m not letting you win this argument. Just open it.”

You unwrapped the box slowly, your breath catching when you saw the delicate gold bracelet inside. The charm dangling from it was small but meaningful—a tiny, intricate star.

“Nicholas,” you whispered, your fingers brushing over the charm. “It’s beautiful.”

“I saw it while I was filming,” he explained, his voice soft. “It reminded me of you. A little star, shining brighter than everything else around it.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you let him fasten it around your wrist. “I love it. Thank you.”

“Okay, next one,” he said, pulling out a larger box.

Your brows shot up. “There’s more?”

“Of course,” he replied.

Inside the box was a gorgeous, plush blanket in your favorite color, embroidered with your initials in gold thread. “For all those nights when I can’t be here to keep you warm,” he said, watching your reaction.

You couldn’t stop smiling. “This is perfect.”

“And one more,” he said, sliding a smaller package over.

You unwrapped it carefully, revealing a hardcover book with a handwritten title on the front, Our Story. You opened it to find pages filled with photographs of the two of you, ticket stubs from your first date, and little notes he’d written about the moments you’d shared.

“You made this?” you asked, tears threatening to spill over again.

Nicholas nodded. “I wanted you to have something to remind you of how special you are to me. Every page is another reason I love you.”

You threw your arms around him, holding him tight. “You’re incredible.”

“Well, don’t cry just yet,” he teased, brushing a tear from your cheek.

You reached behind the tree for the stack of gifts you’d carefully wrapped. “Okay, this first,” you said, handing him a small box.

He opened it to reveal a sleek black watch. “Wow,” he murmured, running his fingers over the face. “This is beautiful.”

“I noticed your old one was scratched up,” you said. “I thought you could use an upgrade.”

Nicholas leaned over to kiss you. “You’re amazing. Thank you.”

“Wait, there’s more,” you said, grinning.

Next, you handed him a framed photo of the two of you from your first trip together, laughing and holding hands. “I figured you could take this with you when you travel,” you explained.

“This is perfect,” he said, his voice soft.

Finally, you pulled out a handmade scarf in his favorite color. “I knitted this,” you admitted shyly. “It’s not perfect, but I—”

He cut you off with another kiss. “It’s perfect because you made it. I’m wearing it everywhere.”

You spent the rest of the day curled up on the couch together, watching Christmas movies and sharing the cookies you’d baked. At one point, Nicholas pulled you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around you as he buried his face in your neck.

“I don’t ever want to spend Christmas apart from you again,” he said, his voice muffled.

You turned to look at him, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “You promise?”

He nodded, his gaze earnest. “I promise. Wherever you are, that’s where I want to be.”

Later that evening, the two of you bundled up and went for a walk through the snow-covered streets. The Christmas lights strung along the houses sparkled like tiny stars, and Nicholas held your hand the entire time, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

When you stopped under a particularly festive display, he turned to you, his expression soft. “Thank you for making this Christmas perfect,” he said.

“I didn’t do anything special,” you replied, smiling up at him.

He shook his head. “You’re wrong. You’re the reason it’s perfect.”

As he leaned down to kiss you, snow began to fall, blanketing the world around you in quiet magic. It was a Christmas you’d never forget.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

Taglist: @blackynsupremacy @hoffmansgirl @nicholaschavezslut69

[dustpages]

Satang wears Prada

Note: please this is all just a fantasy for reading, if you don't like my previous work, please simply don't read.

Black obsidian flickering, archetypal, platonic forms rendered and brute cartography.

Grace and elegance rendered in stark colourlessness, the form unified, undivided, eternal, the flashing now, always.

My silhouette, my image, my person has been all over screens, monitors, magazine covers, and newspaper clippings for over ten years, but I still got excited when invited to present at such an event like the Prada Fashion Show.

The crowd at the Haneda Airport was surrounding me and the few members of my staff; I felt like I was being swallowed by a sea of humanity. The noise of the crowd, the clicking sound of the cameras, the flashes that lit my eyes, the sound of people screaming my name, was like a huge wave that hit me directly at the centre of my chest.

“Sana! Sana! Sana!”

The screams of the fans were loud and deafening.

The security managed to create a safe corridor, in between two seas of people, for me and my staff to pass through. Kaori, my personal assistant, was holding hands with the most precious treasure in my life, my son. I had him seven years ago using the assisted insemination procedure; I had kept his existence a secret from my fans and the public's eyes. Only the people who I trusted knew about him, and they were very few. 

Once in a secluded area of the VIP lounge, he ran to sit on my lap, wrapping his little arms around my neck, hugging me tight. I could feel his heart beating like a wild bird trapped inside his chest. I felt like I would burst out crying.

“Mum, do I have to sit on your lap on the plane?" he asked, looking nervous.

"Yes." I answered, "The seat is too big for you, and you are still small."

I ruffled his messy hair, making his blue eyes roll into the back of his head in a cute manner that made my heart melt like the sun touching the snow. I stood up, and he stayed in my arms like a monkey, hugging my neck.

A flight attendant led us toward the business class where a private suite had been reserved for us.

Once inside, I set him down in my lap and put on my seatbelt; he was so tiny compared to me, and the seat looked too big for him, like a giant bed. I had to hold him close to me so he wouldn't disappear somewhere in the huge space of the seat. The flight attendant smiled kindly at us as she offered us a drink.

My son nestled his head in the crook of my neck and yawned. “Mum."

“Yes." I answered.

"Are you sure that the flight will be okay?" he asked me.

I opened my eyes and looked at him; his blue eyes looked worried. He was still a little kid, and it was cute to see him concerned for no reason.

"Yes, I am.” I replied. "Do you want to rest your head on my boobies?" 

I was well aware that he had a thing for them; he often hugged me or laid his head on them. I was not embarrassed by it at all. I found it funny and sweet; my son loved me a lot. 

He nodded, and I lowered the top of my dress to expose my cleavage. He buried his face in the valley in between my tits.

"So soft.” he purred adorably. "Your boobies are so big.” he added.

I giggled and caressed his head. He was the sweetest person I knew. "Baby, do your thing and try to sleep." I locked the sliding door of our cabin and fully exposed my breasts for him; my nipples were hardening under his hot breath. His small hands cupped both of them, kneading them and playing with my nipples.

My pussy was getting wet, and I was feeling myself getting turned on by my son's actions. I closed my eyes to avoid looking at him and moaned softly. I didn't want him to know that he was turning me on like that. But I liked this kind of playtime. 

His mouth opened, and he sucked at my nipples; the suction felt good against my skin. He latched on to them, sucking one nipple after the other.

"That feels good." I moaned.

My son looked up at me and smiled. “Excellent." he stated. "I always do my best to please you." 

He went back to sucking at my tits until he fell asleep. His mouth was still attached to them, his hands cupping them.

My make-up artist peeked inside, and I waved at her. She smiled and shook her head before closing the door again. I chuckled at her reaction; she loved him a lot.

I let my son sleep on my tits while I rested my eyes. I wasn't falling asleep; I was just resting a little bit. I was still tired, but I didn't mind. I loved spending time with my baby.

After a few hours, my son woke up and looked up at me. "Hi, Mum.” he said, smiling.

"Hey." I greeted him back.

He kissed my lips before pulling away from my tits. I felt cold without his warm mouth on my skin.

"I need the loo.” he announced before standing up.

I nodded at him and watched him heading to the toilet of our private cabin. I took a blanket to cover my legs given my revealing outfit, not really the best choice for the winter season.

My son came back after his business and took his place back on my lap. He yawned before resting his head against my breasts again.

"Are they still soft, baby?" I asked.

He nodded, "They are, Mum."

"Can you play with them again? It feels good." I asked, hoping to get a repeat of his previous actions.

“Yes." he answered before cupping my tits and kneading them slowly. My nipples were hardening as soon as he touched me. I was getting wetter and wetter as he played with my tits. His fingers were rolling my nipples and making me squirm in my seat.

I orgasmed silently, biting my lower lip to stop any sound from escaping me. My pussy was soaked; I felt the dampness between my thighs. My son looked up at me, and his eyes beamed with joy.

I pulled him up to kiss his lips. "Thank you, baby.” I said before releasing him.

He sat beside me and leaned his head against my shoulder. "You're welcome, Mum.” he whispered before falling asleep again. I put my arm around him and caressed his hair, letting him rest. I was glad that I was able to keep his existence a secret; I was grateful that my career had allowed me to give him everything he wanted. I just hoped that I could continue to provide for him and keep his privacy intact.

In a few hours we landed in Milan; the security of the airport led us towards a secondary entrance to avoid any kind of problems with the press. My car was already waiting for us; my son took his place beside me at the back of the car; he hugged my waist and laid his head against my chest.

The drive to the hotel was quick and uneventful; the city was not as busy as it usually was. We arrived at the hotel where I had my room reserved and took a private lift to access it.

My son had his crib in my room; he liked sleeping with me, but he also liked to have his own space. I got undressed, keeping only my underwear on, a thong and a lace bra. My tits were bouncing free from any restraint; I loved how they jiggled when I walked.

My son watched me taking off my dress and undressing myself; he was sitting on the sofa in our suite watching me with hungry eyes. He had a huge crush on me, and it felt flattering; I felt so desirable. He got up from his position and went to hug me.

"Mum, can I touch your boobies?" he asked.

I smiled; his innocent tone was sending shivers down my spine. I nodded and wrapped my arms around his head to pull him closer to me.

He cupped both of my tits and squeezed them with a sigh. "So soft, Mum.” he said.

I felt his hard-on pressing against my thigh; I moved my leg up and down his crotch slowly.

"You're so hard." I affirmed, caressing his hard cock through his pants. His blue eyes were looking up at me with a pure form of desire.

I hoisted him in my arms and kissed him passionately. I wanted to fuck him so bad that I was surprised by my desire. But I was aware that he was not ready for this. He was too young for sex.

"Baby." I moaned against his lips. "I want you so badly."

He moaned as well, his lips parted, and I slipped my tongue in his mouth to deepen our kiss. His cock was rubbing against my belly, making me wetter and wetter. I licked at his lips before breaking apart from him.

"Mom, I trust you with whatever you want." He promised me, his blue eyes shining with love and trust.

I smiled and kissed him again before settling him in the bed. My bathrobe fell open, exposing my naked body to him. I sat down on the edge of the bed and motioned for him to come closer.

He straddled my legs and cupped my tits, playing with them and sucking at them. I moaned at the feeling; his mouth was making my pussy dripping wet. 

"Suck harder, baby." I instructed him.

He obeyed and sucked harder, making my back arch against his mouth. "That feels so good." I gasped. "Use your teeth." 

He did as I said and nibbled at them. His teeth were pinching me in a way that made me want to scream out in pleasure. I moaned loudly; my pussy was throbbing with pleasure.

"Oh shit." I moaned when he bit at one of my nipples. "Fuck." 

I moved to lie on the mattress with my baby on my tits; he started sucking again, pinching and nibbling at my skin. My pussy was aching so much that I wanted him to touch me there. 

"Baby, please." I begged him.

He moved down from my tits to my pussy; he spread my legs apart and slipped his hand in between them. His fingers parted my lips and rubbed at my clit. I gasped at the pleasure it caused me; he knew exactly how to touch me. 

He kept rubbing at me until I came. He didn't stop even when my orgasm had hit me; he continued until I was coming again. I cried out his name while my body was trembling with pleasure.

I felt like I was dying, but in a good way. I closed my thighs around his head, keeping him buried into my pussy. I moaned and bucked against his mouth, trying to get more pleasure from his touch.

Once I came down from my high, I pulled him into my arms. We made out like crazy; my nails were digging into his back, and his hands were cupping my tits. He broke our kiss to look at me.

“Mum." he whispered against my lips. "There's something going on in my underwear." His voice seemed worried. 

I rolled us over to have him on his back and pulled his pants down to look at his underwear. The fabric was stretched and wet; a bulge was visible under the fabric.

I smiled; I knew what it meant. "Are you sure?" I asked him, "I don't want to force you."

He nodded, "Yes, Mum."

I pulled down his underwear and gasped when I saw his cock. It was bigger than I was expecting, and it looked like it was aching.

"It hurts.” he whispered.

"Let me help you." I offered. I licked my hand and started stroking him; he gasped at my touch. His cock was smooth and soft under my fingers. I tightened my grip on it and started moving up and down.

His hands gripped the sheets, and he threw his head back. "Ohh," he gasped. 

I smirked, knowing the effect I had on him. "Baby, you are going to feel even better now."

I enveloped my lips around the head of his cock; he moaned loudly when I started sucking at him. His cock was salty and sweet at the same time.

I sucked and licked at him, making sure he was feeling as much pleasure as I was giving to him. He thrust into my mouth, hitting the back of my throat. I gagged a little but kept sucking. 

"Oh, Mum.” he gasped again. "I can feel something going on inside of me." 

I moaned around his cock and sucked harder. I knew that he was about to come soon. His hands were clutching at my hair, and I was getting turned on more and more.

"Shit." He cursed when his cock started jerking in my mouth.

I bobbed my head with more velocity; I wanted all of him. When I felt him coming into my mouth, I swallowed every single drop of his cum.

I licked his cock clean and looked up at him; he was looking at me with love. "I love you.” he whispered.

I crawled on top of him, pressing my tits against his chest. "I love you too, baby."

We kissed again before I went to take a pair of black stockings I had into my suitcase. I knew he had a kind for them; I approached the bed and rolled them on my legs slowly, deliberately. His gaze was following my every move; I knew I was turning him on. Once I had them on, I stood up in front of him and hoisted one of my legs on his chest.

My pussy was exposed to him, and I could see that he was turned on by it. He licked his lips, and I could tell that he wanted a taste of me. 

"Do you want a taste, baby?" I asked him.

He nodded eagerly, and I lowered my pussy to his mouth. He sucked at me with hunger, making me moan loudly. I had never seen him like this before, his face buried in my pussy and licking at me like he wanted to taste every part of me. My hands were clutching the wall behind me, and my body was shaking with pleasure. 

"Baby." I cried out. "I think I am going to come again."

I bucked against his face, and he sucked harder at my clit; I cried out his name when my orgasm hit me again.

"I'm going to ride you, daddy." I exclaimed, driven by my lust and my love for him.

He nodded, and I climbed on top of his lap and impaled myself on his cock, moaning loudly at the feeling. His cock was filling me in the best way possible. I started bouncing on his cock, making him gasp under me.

He pulled my tits together and sucked at them while I was riding him. His hands were digging in my ass cheeks, and he was helping me move. I leaned in to kiss him passionately.

I was moaning on his lips, my pussy was clenching around his cock, making him feel the pleasure too. We moved together in perfect sync. My tits were rubbing against his chest, and our bodies were slick with sweat.

"Daddy, you are going to make me come again." I gasped out. 

He pounded me in the earnest, getting me to squirt all over his cock. I screamed out his name; my body was trembling and shaking. He kept pounding me through my orgasm, getting me to come again and again.

I leaned in to kiss him again; our tongues were entangled and fighting for dominance. My son was fucking me in a way that I had never experienced before; he knew exactly what I needed.

"Daddy, I love you." I moaned into his mouth.

He moaned back. "I love you, Mum."

"I'm going to make daddy cum now." I giggled. 

I leaned back and bounced on his cock faster and harder, driving his dick to bottom out inside at every stroke. He moaned loudly and clutched at my ass cheeks. 

"Daddy needs some kinky words," he taunted me. "I need something dirty."

I grinned; my tits were bouncing in his face, and I knew he loved this kind of view. "Daddy, you are so dirty." I giggled.

He groaned at my words; his cock was getting harder inside me. "Yeah, daddy loves fucking his slutty Mum," he growled. "She is so tight and wet for him."

I giggled; his words were driving me crazy. "You like her pussy, daddy?" I taunted him. 

"Yes, I do," he grunted. "It is so good, and it drives me crazy every time."

"Oh yeah." I moaned. "And I love riding daddy's cock." 

His cock twitched inside me, making me gasp. "So good, daddy."

I moved faster and harder on his cock until he cried out. His cock started jerking inside of me, and I felt his cum filling me. I kept riding him, milking every single drop from his cock.

I collapsed on his chest, panting heavily. I rolled off him and looked at him; he was smiling and looking happy. 

"How was it?" I asked him.

His smile grew even wider. "It was amazing," he promised. "I never felt so good."

I smiled and pressed my lips to his forehead, kissing him. "I loved it as well."

We cuddled all night long, entangled in each other's arms. My son was sleeping peacefully against me, and I couldn't be happier than that. I loved him so much, and I would give anything for him to be happy. I was glad that he had enjoyed our first sexual experience. I knew it was just the beginning of many nights we would spend like this. I would make sure to teach him everything he needed to know about sex and pleasure. I would guide him every step of the way. He was mine, and he would stay mine forever. I loved him more than myself, and I would protect him until my last breath. 

My thoughts were interrupted by someone knocking at my bedroom door, "Sana, wake up." Kaori's voice echoed through the room.

I stood up and covered myself with a bathrobe. I opened the door and waved at her to come in. She looked surprised when she saw my baby lying on the bed naked. I grinned; she knew that I would have taken his virginity soon and that we would be lovers from now on. She was open-minded and respected our choices; she was the best friend anyone would dream to have.

"It's 9 am," she announced. "Your first interview is at 10 am."

"Okay." I nodded. "Where are the clothes?"

She handed me a black dress and a pair of heels; I thanked her and went into the bathroom to change. I dressed myself quickly and styled my hair in a simple ponytail. I applied some light makeup to not look too tired; I was feeling exhausted, but I was not going to show it.

I went back to the bedroom and smiled at my son, who was looking sleepy and cute. "Hey baby." I greeted him.

"Hey, Mum.” he mumbled, yawning. "I am so sore."

I giggled knowing that he must be sore after the sex we had last night. "Do you want some cream?"

He nodded, and I handed him a jar of cream to apply on his sore ass. He thanked me, and I kissed his lips.

"Have a good day, baby." I said before leaving the room with Kaori.

My son was still sleeping when we came back at the hotel after a long day of interviews and photoshoots. I smiled and climbed on the bed beside him. He opened his eyes and smiled at me.

"Hello," he greeted me. "I missed you."

I giggled and pressed a kiss to his lips. "Me too," I admitted. "Did you sleep well?"

He nodded and yawned. "Yes, I did." He stretched and sat up.

I followed his lead and sat up as well, making him sit on my lap. He wrapped his arms around me and buried his face in the crook of my neck.

"Did anyone try to hit on you?" he asked me, sucking on my neck. 

His mouth was driving me crazy, and I knew that I needed to stop him; otherwise, I would end up fucking him again. But I didn't want him to be sore.

"No." I lied, "It's late. We should go to sleep."

He didn't buy it. "It's impossible that no one had tried anything with how sexy you are.” he affirmed.

"You are right," I admitted. "The famous Korean actor Cha Eunwoo had asked me for a dinner."

"Did you accept?" His voice was cold and deadly.

I nodded, "Yeah, I did. It is a good opportunity for me to be seen with someone more famous than me; my career will be boosted by that."

He sighed and pulled away from me. "My girlfriend is already planning to cheat on me."

I laughed, "No, baby. I am not going to cheat on you."

He pouted and crossed his arms on his chest. He looked cute and childish; I pulled him towards me, smashing my lips to his. He opened his mouth, and our tongues met again. My hands roamed his back and cupped his butt cheeks. I pulled away from him and grinned.

"How about we forget about this and have fun?" I suggested.

"Sounds good to me.” he agreed; his voice sounded sexy.

I stripped out of my dress, and he helped me to get rid of my bra and panties, leaving me completely naked. He ogled at my body and licked his lips.

I smirked and settled him on the bed before crawling on top of him. His mouth found mine, and we made out again. My tits were rubbing his chest, and my hands were roaming all over his back. 

His cock was hard against my thigh, and I knew what was going to happen. "Sure you can handle me, baby?" I taunted. "I know you are sore."

He grinned and flipped us over to be on top of me. "Trust me, Mum.” he promised.

I nodded and opened my legs to welcome him between them. He kissed me again before trailing kisses down my neck and to my tits. His mouth latched on to them, sucking at one nipple while playing with the other. 

I moaned; his mouth felt so good on my skin. His fingers found their way to my pussy, rubbing at my clit, making me gasp out in pleasure.

"Yeah, baby." I moaned. "Keep going."

He smirked and kept rubbing at my pussy until I came, crying out his name. I was still trembling when he settled himself between my legs. He pressed his lips to mine, and I parted them for him; our tongues fought for dominance, and I felt him pushing inside of me.

I moaned again; he was big and stretching me. "Fuck." I gasped.

He moaned on my lips and started thrusting inside of me. His cock was moving inside of me with a slow rhythm; he wasn't fucking me as hard as he was the previous night, but it still felt good.

"Baby." I gasped, "You feel so good."

He smiled against my lips before deepening our kiss again. His tongue was dancing with mine, and his cock was moving in sync with it. I could feel another orgasm building inside of me, and I knew I wasn't going to be the last one. 

"Daddy, you are going to make me cum again." I moaned on his lips.

He grunted and pounded me harder; I came again and again, squirting on his cock. He kept going until he came inside of me, his hot cum filling me and making me feel satisfied. 

I pulled him down to lay on my tits, and we cuddled there, panting and sweaty. His lips found mine again, and we kissed again.

"I love yo.” he murmured on my lips.

I grinned and kissed him back. "I love you as well, baby." 

We made out until we fell asleep in each other's arms again. The next day was going to be crazy given all the interviews and photoshoots I had to do.

I left him alone in the bed; my schedule for this last day was packed, and to top everything, I had the dinner planned with the Korean actor.

I had never been interested in dating anyone famous, but he seemed to be nice, and it was a good opportunity for my career. I wasn't sure if I could trust him at all; I was still deciding.

I reached the restaurant where our dinner was supposed to happen and spotted him already there. He smiled and waved at me. He was handsome; I had seen his movies, and he was a really good actor.

I walked towards him and smiled at him. "Hi." I greeted. 

"Sana-san, I am glad you came.” he bowed to me.

I nodded in response and let him guide me to the table. We ordered something to drink and started talking about our jobs, movies we had made, and everything. He was charming and nice; I couldn't help but feel drawn to him.

After a while, he started touching my knee under the table and rubbing it with his hand. His eyes were locked on mine, and I could feel the heat radiating from his body.

"Sana-san," he whispered. "You are so beautiful and sexy."

I giggled, feeling flattered. "Thank you." I said, blushing.

He grinned. "Would you like to join me for the night?" he suggested. "I promise that we will have fun."

I was tempted by his offer; my pussy was getting wet, and I needed someone to fill me. My baby was at the hotel sleeping alone. I could go back to the hotel and fuck him again, but I didn't know if he was ready for another round.

"I am not sure; is your dick big enough to fill me?" I teased him.

His eyes widened, and he licked his lips. "You are dirty.” he exclaimed. "I would love to fuck a dirty bitch like you." 

He stood up and paid for the dinner. He took my hand in his and led me out of the restaurant. The paparazzi were waiting for us outside and started snapping photos of us. I smiled and waved at them, holding his arm.

We entered a cab, and I turned to Eunwoo. "Flirting with you has been fun, but I already have a lover." I informed him. 

His demeanour didn't change; he just smirked. "I don't care about it.” he stated. "I want to fuck you tonight, and I am going to do it."

I laughed; he was confident, and I liked it. "I like your attitude, but there is a condition."

"What?" he asked. "I want you so badly, Sana." 

"My lover has to be there and be okay with thant." I said. "I have a special relationship with him, and I don't want to hurt him." 

"Who is he?" he asked.

I smiled and told him the whole truth. "He is my son and lover." 

I could tell that he was surprised by my confession. But I didn't care about his reaction; I loved my son and our special bond. 

He nodded. "Okay, I am fine with it."

I nodded as well and leaned in to kiss him. Our tongues met again, and I felt myself getting wetter. His hands were roaming my back and clutching at my butt cheeks.

We reached the hotel and went straight to my suite; my son was lying on the sofa watching a movie. He stood up when he saw me entering the room and frowned when he saw Eunwoo with me. 

“Mum." he called me. "Who the hell is he?"

"This is Eunwoo." I introduced him. "He asked me to spend the night with him."

My son's face fell; he looked upset. "Kick him out; I don't share anything of mine." 

I giggled at his possessiveness. "My baby doesn't want to share me." I taunted. "Eunwoo, I reckon you'll get blue balls tonight." I laughed.

He looked at me a bit shocked. "Are you refusing me for a kid?"

I nodded. "Yes. He is my kid, and he is mine in every way possible." 

My son's eyes got softer; Eunwoo scoffed and turned on his heels and left. I was alone with my son, and his expression changed from upset to hungry. 

"You are a nasty girl to have brought that man here," my son commented.

I removed my coat and threw it on the armchair; my brown dress was revealing my curves. "I do know." I bite my lower lip. "I'm going to make it up to you."

I descended from my heels, and my son peeled his clothes in a hurry, letting them pool on the ground. My pussy was dripping wet when I saw him naked. 

"Spin for me, daddy." I taunted him."Show me your ass."

He smirked and did as I asked; his back muscles were visible, and his ass was round and juicy. I licked my lips, wanting to bite it.

I came to him and turned him to face me; my hands went to cup his ass cheeks. "Daddy is so hot." I whispered. "I want to eat his ass." 

"Then do it, Mum.” he asserted, blushing.

I led him on the bed, and I settled him to sit on the edge of the bed while I proceeded stripping out of my clothes; my baby was looking at me with lust in his eyes. My tits were swaying in front of him, and my pussy was wet and dripping.

He got the hang of what I wanted to do; he went in the middle of the bed and lay with his bare ass up in the air, his legs spread apart for me.

I kneeled on the bed and came to him; my hands parted his ass cheeks, and I licked at his hole. It tasted like heaven under my tongue, so sweet and salty. I ate him like a pussy; his moans and grunts were making me feel good. I wanted to taste every inch of him.

I buried my finger in his ass and fucked him with it; he cried out my name. "Ohh, Mu.” he moaned.

I smiled knowing that he liked it; I added another finger and started sucking at his arsehole. My baby's cock was dripping precum; he looked ready to explode at any time. His moans were driving me crazy; seeing him trembling under my ministrations was hot.

"Fuck, Mum.” he cursed. "You're gonna make me cum."

I got more aroused by the second, and I withdrew my fingers and dove my tongue inside his hole. He cried out, "Mum!" His orgasm hit him, and I felt him shudder under me.

I kept eating him until I felt satisfied that he was done cumming. I looked at him; his cock was soft, and he was panting hard. "Mum, you are the best.” he panted.

I chuckled and licked my fingers. "I can tell you enjoyed it." 

He nodded and turned on his back; I leaned on his chest, and he wrapped his arms around my back. "I was so upset when you came with him.” he admitted.

I kissed his lips with passion; he didn't even try to fight my tongue, letting me taste him. I broke away from him and looked in his eyes mischievously.

"You gotta make me cum a lot tonight, daddy." I dared him. "I had refused a hot man for you." 

He smirked. "And what if I don't?"

"I'll call him to fuck me." I giggled. "You won't share me, but I am free to do anything I want."

My words got him fired up, and he flipped me on my back; his mouth found my pussy and sucked at it like he wanted to taste my soul. His hands were clutching at my thighs and keeping them apart.

His tongue was licking at my clit, making me moan out loudly. He was sucking at me in a way that was driving me mad.

My orgasm built up inside of me and hit me hard; I screamed his name while trembling in pleasure. 

He came to lie on my tits; I wrapped my arms around his back and held him close to me. I could hear his heart beating against mine and feel his hot breath on my skin.

"That was good," I praised. "Now we are even." 

He laughed and buried his face deeper into my cleavage. "You are something else.” he murmured.

I kissed him, and we made out lazily for a few minutes. His cock got hard again against my belly; I needed him inside of me as soon as possible.

“Daddy." I whined. "Fuck me."

He chuckled and looked at me; I could tell by his gaze that he was already thinking of new things to do with me.

He flipped us over again, making me straddle his thighs; his cock was hard and big, waiting for me to take it. His hands went to my hips and guided me to impale myself on him. I moaned when he entered me, stretching me.

He felt so good inside of me, filling me in the best way. I started moving up and down, his hands clutching at my tits and squeezing them. My pussy was clenching around his cock, making him feel the pleasure as well. He thrust up inside of me, matching my rhythm.

My baby was fucking me like a professional, and I loved it. "Yeah, daddy." I encouraged. "That's good."

I rode him as fast as I could manage; his dick was buried deep inside of me. I knew I was going to come again; his cock felt phenomenal. 

"Daddy, I'm gonna cum." I moaned.

His thrust became faster and more erratic. I released my juice, drenching his cock; my body was trembling with pleasure. My orgasm was making him lose his control; he came inside of me a few seconds later.

I collapsed on top of him, panting hard and sweaty. Our chests were rising and falling in sync. "Did you have enough?" he breathed out. "I am getting tired."

I giggled; my baby was so cute and adorable. “No." I admitted.

"Really?" he asked, looking surprised.

"I'm sure to say that Eunwoo could have taken a lot more time fucking me than you did." I teased him. "I need someone who can fuck me until I am done."

He huffed and stood up; he looked pissed off. “Fine." he stated, "I will go get him for you."

I stopped him by holding his hand and pulled him back against my chest. "The only one I want is you." I assured him. "You should be more relaxed; I was only fooling you around."

He looked unconvinced; his arms were still crossed on his chest. "You need to prove it.” he told me stubbornly. 

I chuckled knowing that he was still mad at me. I stood up as well and started making out with him again." Daddy." I purred. "Let me show you how good I am." 

My hands roamed his chest and pinched at his nipples; he gasped and moaned. His cock was getting hard again under my touch. I turned us around and pushed him down on the mattress before crawling down his body and swallowing his cock.

I sucked and licked at him until he was hard as steel. "Baby, you taste terrific." I complimented him.

I settled myself on his thighs and lowered myself on his cock, moaning loudly when he filled me. "So good."

My hips were grinding on top of his cock while my tits were bouncing in his face. His hands cupped them and squeezed them hard, making me gasp in pleasure. He was so talented at making me feel pleasure. 

"Yeah, baby." I moaned again. "That feels so good."

I moved faster and harder on him, feeling myself getting wetter and wetter. " Daddy." I moaned louder. "I, you, are going to make me squirt." 

His fingers rubbed my clit and made me lose my control, squirting all over his cock. He fucked me through my orgasm, getting me to cum again and again. I collapsed on his chest, panting hard.

I looked at him; he was looking up at me and smiling. "You okay?" he asked. "You look exhausted."

I nodded; my body was aching all over but in a good way. I sealed my lips on his again, and he wrapped his arms tighter around me.

In our last 24 hours in Milan, I showed him around wearing a disguise. He acted like the sweetest baby boy on the planet, holding my hand and making sure I was okay. 

He was so attentive and caring that I could not believe how much he got head over heels for me. He didn't throw a tantrum when some of my fans noticed me, and I took some photos with them. 

"Sana, we got an invitation for the Ralph Lauren event in Melbourne during the Australian Open." Kaori informed me while we were packing our suitcases to go back home.

I scoffed; even though I was the ambassador for Ralph Lauren Japan, I didn't see why I had to attend a sport event I couldn't care less about.

"I don't want to go; it's been a bunch of hectic days here, and the idea of travelling to the other side of the planet is stressing me out." I argued.

My assistant sighed and crossed her arms on her chest. "Sana, you got to understand that this is a good opportunity to promote yourself and Ralph Lauren; the brand is paying you a splurge of money," she explained.

I was about to refuse again when my son spoke up. "I want us to go, Mum."

I frowned; I hadn't thought about what he wanted. "But why?"

"Because I have never been to Australia," he affirmed. "And I want to see you working."

I rolled my eyes; my baby wanted to see me working like a model. It made no sense.

"But baby." I started, "It is a long trip, and it's not healthy for you."

He crossed his arms on his chest as well. "I don't see why not, Mum." 

I sighed; he was being stubborn, and I was not ready to argue with him. "Fine, we are going." 

I pouted; I knew he was going to win every argument we would have. I loved him too much and couldn't deny him anything. 

The trip to Australia was managed smoothly by my manager; we arrived two days early so we all could adjust to the local time zone and the excessive heat in Melbourne. 

"I despise this kind of weather," my son complained while swimming in our infinity pool. 

I looked at him from under my sunhat. "Well, you wanted to come." I reminded him.

He was a spoilt brat. When he wanted, he got out of the pool to come and lay down on the sunbed beside me. His body glistened under the sun, making him look like a bronze god. 

"That's true, but it is not because of that I have to like it," he pouted. "It is so hot, I feel like melting."

I chuckled and stood up from my chair. I went to him and leaned down to press a kiss on his lips. "Maybe you just need something to cool you off." I suggested.

He nodded, eager to get any kind of attention from me; he didn't realise that it would end with him being naked and being used like a slut by me. I giggled inwardly at the thought of how he was going to react when I was finally done with him.

My hands were roaming his body, and I started kissing and licking at his neck. He moaned, "Mum." 

"Hush, baby." I shushed him. "Let me make you feel better."

I trailed kisses down his chest; my lips found his nipples and licked at them, making him moan louder. My hands went to his swim shorts and pulled them down his thighs, exposing his already hard cock.

I grinned; my baby's cock was so hard for me. I took a bottle of lotion from under my sunhat and poured a generous amount on my tits. They were already glistening in the sun, but the lotion made them shine even more.

"Mum, what are you doing?" he asked me, confused. 

I smirked and hoisted myself to straddle him on the sunbed. "What does it look like?" I replied, "You are going to make me feel good."

His hands were clutching at the sunbed sheets, and his eyes were fixed on my tits rubbing his cock. I moaned; his cock was so hard against me. I bounced on top of it, making sure he was coated with my tits' lotion.

He moaned as well; his breath was getting heavier. "Fuck, Mum." 

"You want it?" I asked him, "You want your mum's tits?" 

He nodded; he was already panting like a dog in heat. "Please." 

I lowered my tits to rub his cock with them; he moaned even louder when I squeezed them together to enclose his dick. I moved up and down on his cock, making sure he got a good feeling. His precum was leaking all over my tits. I licked at my lips, wanting to taste him.

"Is it good for you?" I asked.

He nodded again; his eyes were closed, and he looked like he was about to cum. "Very good." 

"Want more?" I teased.

He nodded eagerly. "Yeah."

I grinned and bent forward to lick at his cockhead. He gasped when I took it in my mouth. "Oh fuck."

I sucked and licked at his cock until it was covered with my spit. I stood up and grabbed a towel to wipe my tits clean.

"Are you going to fuck me?" he asked hopefully.

I smirked; I didn't want him to cum that easily. "Not yet, baby." 

I started teasing him again with my tits, rubbing them on his cock and balls. He moaned and tried to push me down to ride him, but I kept denying him. He was about to beg for me when I decided that it was enough. 

I hoisted one of my legs on the sunbed and sat on him. My pussy was already wet and ready for him; I took his cock in my hand and rubbed it against my entrance.

"Baby, you gonna take your Mum?" I taunted.

He nodded and thrust up inside of me, making me cry out. His cock was stretching me and filling me so good, I started bouncing on top of him while clutching at his shoulders.

His hands cupped my tits and squeezed them, pinching at my nipples, making me scream in pleasure. "Baby, that feels so good." I cried out. 

He grinned; he loved when I was in pleasure. His hands went to clutch my hips, helping me bounce on his cock. Our bodies were covered with sweat, and we were moaning loudly.

"Mum, I think I am about to cum," he gasped. "You feel so good."

I smirked, knowing that he was close. "Come for me, baby; fill me with your cum." I encouraged him. 

His thrust got more erratic; he was moaning louder and louder. I could see his abs tensing under his skin. 

I leaned in to kiss him; he came while we were making out. His cum filled my pussy; I kept riding him, lost in pleasure. 

I came, stimulated by his jizz overflowing in her cunt, but I didn't mean to stop. I went on grinding until he was hard again; I got off him and lay on my side.

"Baby, shove your dick into my cunt.” I ordered.

He was sweating profusely; he was panting, trying to breathe. "Mum, I'm still too sensitive.” he whined.

I reached back and guided his cock inside of me, making him thrust and groan loudly. "Good boy." I praised.

He stilled; his hot breath on my skin was turning me on even more. "If you are not going to move, I'll take charge of it." I dared him.

I twerked  my ass on his cock and he cried out. "Mum." 

I giggled at him being so sensitive; I knew I had won again. His hands clutch at my waist, and he thrusts up inside me with a slow rhythm. 

I moaned and leaned back against him; I wanted him to kiss me. His lips found my neck and sucked at it, making me feel all kinds of pleasure.

"Harder, daddy." I ordered.

He complied and pounded me harder, making me gasp with pleasure. I came again, and he kept fucking me through it. My pussy was getting sore, but I was in heaven.

"Ohh daddy." I moaned. "I am going to cum again."

He groaned at my words; his cock was pulsing inside of me, and I could feel that he was going to cum soon as well.

"Come for me, daddy." I taunted him. "Fill your Mum with your cum."

He grunted. "You are going to be the death of me." 

I giggled and rocked my ass on his cock harder. "Stop speaking; I want your cum." 

I kept grinding on his dick. "Please, Mum, I'm too sensitive."

I kept going; he was almost at the edge. "Take it." I ordered. "Take my pussy like a good boy."

“Mum." he cried out again.

"Obey. You are privileged to be the one fucking me; there are plenty of other cocks that would have been happy to replace you." 

That sentence was enough to trigger him. He sank his teeth into my shoulder and thrust his dick deep inside of me. "You are a nasty bitch," he groaned. "You're gonna make me cum."

His cock started jerking inside of me, his cum filled me, and I felt my pussy overflowing. I kept grinding until I came again.

We collapsed on the sunbed, both panting and sweaty. He buried his face in my neck and moaned again.

"Mum, you are killing me," he grumbled. "You have to stop it."

I laughed and turned to face him. His face was flushed, and he was covered in sweat. "Why would I stop?"

He sighed, "Because I don't have enough stamina for you." 

I grinned at him. "Well, I am going to make you stronger as time goes by." 

We spent the rest of the day cooling down under the cool breeze of the AC unit. 

 We got out of bed at 6 pm to get ready for the event.

"You look stunning, Mum," he complimented me. "Like a goddess."

I was wearing a white sleeveless shirt tied under my boobs; my toned midriff was exposed, and the bottom part of the outfit was a long and wide skirt with blue and white stripes. It was showing my legs every time I moved. 

"You are not bad yourself." I replied. "Handsome as ever."

He was wearing a white T-shirt with his jeans and black boots; he looked so hot and cute in that outfit. His hair was messy and tousled like he just got out of bed.

I giggled knowing that he had taken a shower and had spent 20 minutes combing his hair. He looked like a cute little boy, and I couldn't help but tease him.

"Baby, you look cute like this." I stated. "Like a young boy playing dress-up."

He glared at me, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. We made it to the tennis court and took our places in the VIP area. I got immediately spotted by the media, and they started taking pictures of me.

The match was starting, and my son was getting bored. He had never watched a tennis match in his life, and he didn't understand the rules. 

He leaned against me and whispered in my ear, "Mum, this is too monotonous."

I laughed and leaned closer to him. "Your Mum predicted you could get bored." 

He pecked my cheek. "What do you have in store for me?"

I smirked; the naughty side of me took over. "Do you trust me?"

He nodded, and I signalled him to kneel in front of me; my skirt was covering his head, but I could still see his eyes looking at me under it. I leaned back and opened my legs wider, letting him crawl in between them.

I lifted my skirt and exposed my thighs; he licked his lips when he saw me wearing a tiny thong. His hands reached my legs and caressed them slowly. I moaned inwardly; my baby was so good at making me feel pleasure.

I let him bury his face between my thighs; my pussy was wet and ready for him. He sucked and licked at it through my thong; I was trying to keep my moans silent, but it was difficult. The crowd was too loud, and the music playing for the break time was masking my noises.

His fingers pumped inside of me, and he was sucking at my clit; I felt myself getting close to cumming. He knew my body so well and was making me cum easily.

"Baby." I breathed out. "I am going to cum."

He kept going until I came crying out his name; I was trembling, and my pussy was overflowing with my juice. He cleaned my pussy with his tongue, making sure to not waste a drop of my juice.

I came down from my high and pulled him out of my skirt; he was grinning at me and licking his lips. 

Thankfully, the crowd was focused on the first set coming to an end to give attention to our little affair.

I sat him on my lap, his head resting on the crook of my neck. I stroked his hair and he kissed my neck.

"You smell good," he murmured. "Like vanilla."

I chuckled, "That's the new perfume I am advertising." I informed him.

The rest of the match was uneventful for us. He stayed snuggled in my arms until the end. When we were about to leave, the paparazzi surrounded us. 

"How was your first experience at the Australian Open?" they asked me.

I smiled and waved at them. "It was wonderful and exciting." I lied. 

Kaori and security came to rescue us. We were escorted out of the venue and went directly to the hotel to pack.

We got on the plane and took off to Tokyo; he slept in my arms during the flight. I was happy and satisfied with how our first trip abroad had gone. I found out that I could trust him not to say anything to anyone about our relationship.

I was well aware that he was still young and that I would have to prepare him to deal with all the hate he would get when I decided to reveal our relationship to the world.

But for now, the world could wait. 

[mariasont]

hi 🫶🏻 i was thinking maybe you could write spencer x reader inspired by taylor's I look in people's windows? for the plot it could be something like they were really close friends and reader was obviously in love with him but then he met meave and distanced himself from her, or maybe that he blames the reader for meave's death and is avoiding her, idk, whichever you prefer!!

i love your works, you're so good at writing!!

When the Swallows Come Again - S.R

a/n: hi my lovely you just know me tooooooo well. a swiftie plot line you ask? i am at your service

no but fr thank u so so sooo much for requesting i love YOU! 🫶🏼

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x gn!reader (im pretty sure pls correct me if i added any use of pronouns)

summary: spencer blames you for maeves death…or so you thought

warnings: angst! (happy endings, yes ik im feeling gracious), talk of death, blood, guns, usual criminal minds stuff

wc: 2.5k

The asphalt beneath your boots felt gritty, the sound muffled by the thick blanket of snow. With one hand, you tried to guard your face from the snowflakes that seemed determined to kiss your skin. They might seem pretty from inside, but out here, they were just another reminder of your inadequate clothing against the biting cold.

The first rays of the sun began to stretch across the concrete, painting long shadows in its wake. Although you could have found your way in the pitch black if needed. Most places were still closed, but you knew that a coffee shop you used to love would be open. It wasn't your top choice, mainly because of the fact that you might bump into--

Him.

You knew it was him before you even saw his face, the hairs on your arm standing at attention as you stopped dead in front of the window.

It was Spencer, unmistakable even from a distance, his distinctive curls made into a celestial crown by the cafe's soft light. Your heart stumbled, plummeting down to your shoelaces. A thousand emotions crashed around you, a vortex happening to quick to untangle. These were feeling you had buried down, far deeper than six feet, hoping they'd never resurface. But that, you realized, was just wishful thinking.

You watched from behind the glass, feeling like a stranger to the world that Spencer now inhabited--a world where you once had a seat at his table. Now, you were the outsider, the unwanted observer. The sound of his laughter, which once was a comforting sound, now seeped through the door's crack, a mocking reminder of a severed tie. Your friendship was one that had bloomed like the first flowers of spring.

But flowers wither, and seasons change.

With Spencer out of your life, a subtle death crept over you, eroding you piece by piece. It was a death characterized by the loud allegations, the quiet of words left unsaid, and a friendship that had crumbled because he blamed you for Maeve's death.

Not just blamed, he hated you.

He hated you because you had tried to save Maeve, but you just weren't quick enough, because you couldn't beat the onset of gunfire, because you went in instead of him. You knew the cost: if he went in, he wouldn't have come back out. You didn't regret that choice. He's alive and breathing, and that's worth any cost--even if it means he never spoke to you again.

But there he stood, living and breathing--just as you intended, and suddenly your body seemed to malfunction. Your feet might as well have been part of the pavement, the snowflakes assaulting your face just as Maeve's blood did that day. Your heart threatened to burst, racing with a ferocity that set your veins on fire. You were scorching alive, and it was 17 degrees. 

In the aftermath, Spencer had taken himself off the grid, locked himself in his apartment, and you didn't take it to heart because his withdrawal was all- encompassing. He was avoiding everyone. But then he came back, and it was as if you alone were invisible to him. You tried, with every fiber of your being, to bridge to gap, for him to let you be his best friend again, but your attempts were met with biting remarks and thinly veiled jabs.

It was exhausting. But he was grieving so you felt like he deserved a pass. He had been through so much, more than anyone on the team. Surely, if anyone deserved a pass, it was him. However, even the most generous pass has an expiration date, and six months of disregard made it challenging to keep validating the same worn-out ticket.

So, you submitted your transfer papers to the narcotics unit. You wanted to say a proper goodbye, but you weren't sure he'd care. So, you didn't. You waited until the office was empty, then disappeared without a trace. 

But it didn't hardly matter that you weren't physically around him because you found yourself searching for signs of him in everything you did. 

When you pulled on your socks, memories of his mismatching habit surfaced, and the way he'd cheekily taunt you for your staunch preference for matching white ones. When you went to the grocery store, you'd unintentionally wander to the aisle with the dark chocolate almonds, his favorite.

Every time a swallow flitted across your path, you were reminded of him. "Swallows return to the same place every year, but not the same partner," he had once explained.

The thought always stuck to you, like gum on the sole of your shoe, because now it was a poignant parallel to your own stupid, fractured bond. Connections were never meant to endure. You knew that now.

It was too late to reverse course when he spun around, catching you red-handed. Your mouth flapped open, a fish out of water, as you willed your feet to moved forward. The need for coffee paled in the comparison to the need to leave. But his reflexes outmatched yours, and the door swung open before you could make an escape.

He said nothing, just stared, and you came to a near-instant stop, narrowly avoiding a collision. The frosty air of your breath fogged the space between you, briefly distorting your view of him, softening his edges into the Spencer you once knew.

Now that he was within arm's reach, you could discern the finer aspects of his face. He looked good, tired, but good. He always looked good, but time had sculpted his features into something more profound. His hair had grown out, curling at the ends, and a stubble now sketched the contours of his face. 

"Hey."

Had you not been so captivated by the shape of his mouth, the faint sound would have been swallowed by the buzzing in your ears.

"Hey," you whispered, but even that was too much for your shaky voice, breaking mid-greeting and leaving you exposed before him. "I'm sorry, I had no idea you'd be here. Um, I should probably just--"

You maneuvered around him, pushing down the vomit of words rising in your throat, consciously fighting the impulse to catalog every line of his face, cognizant of the fact that it might just be the last time you'd see him.

His hand clasped your wrist, and you were suddenly you were the newest member of the BAU again, rubbing elbows with the boy genius, telling him all your secrets with the exception of one. How madly in love you were with him. Were? Are? Past tense? Present tense? You tried not to think about it.

You were frozen in time—not solely from the physical restraint but from the searing sensation of his touch, a feeling you hadn't known in ages, as if igniting your skin through your sleeve.

"Wait, please," he pleaded, the desperation is his voice anchoring you to the spot. You turned back to face him, finding your faces nearly touching. You shifted, intending to create space, but his grip on your arm didn't drop, so you didn't move. "How have you been?"

The question threw you off guard, and it filled your stomach with an irrepressible swarm of butterflies, a feeling so alive against the biting cold that stung at your nose.

Your fingertips were going numb.

"I'm okay, you?" A complete lie.

You racked your brain for the last time you felt okay. Perhaps it was before Spencer had started talking with Maeve. You didn't even know about it at first, that might have been the worst part. He was your best friend, and he had omitted such a significant detail of his life from you.

He just started to distance himself, forging a gap between the two of you that seemed to rival the expanse of the Grand Canyon. Perhaps it was an overstatement, but as the events unfolded, the comparison felt justified. 

The change began imperceptibly, almost cruelly gradual. You would have preferred a quick yank of the Band-Aid, but it was a prolonged, painful peeling. The first sign was him not jumping at the chance to be partnered on cases like he usually did. Then, it progressed to him choosing seats away from you on the jet, and finally, it escalated to him leaving the room all together when you were in it.

It was an achy feeling, an all-consuming soreness that infiltrated every inch of your being. You didn't understand, didn't know what you did wrong. It wasn't long after this you found out about Maeve.

And then, as if fate had dealt its cruelest hand, she died, and suddenly it was your fault. You became the villain in his eyes, condemned for your hesitance, and because you refused to let him die. Maybe it could be seen as selfish, but without him, you would be nothing.

Yet here you were living without him all the same.

His inspection was more thorough than you were ready for. It stirred an urge within you to shrink away, to sprint into the anonymity of the dark streets, but your feet remained rooted to the spot.

"I've been better," he admitted, eyes shining with something you couldn't quite place.

"Oh," you begam, the syllable suspended in the frigid air, but before your thoughts could coalesce into words, Spencer cut through the silence.

"Why did you leave?"

Your brows pinched together, your mouth agape as a singular heartbeat was lost--and then several more. "You can't be serious."

He looked confused. "What? No, Hotch never really told us your reasoning."

The taste of a bitter laugh lingered at the edge of your lips. "Spencer, we don't need to do this whole act, okay? We don't have to pretend that I left for any reason other than you."

"Because of me?" His hands glided upward, pausing on your shoulder, and you loathed the part of you that wanted to lean into him. "What are you talking about?"

"Are you kidding?" The words tumbled out, blinking away the tears of frustration that threatened to spill. "Spencer, I'm not stupid. I know you hate me. I know you blame me for what happened with Maeve. And I get it, you were grieving, and you had every right to be mad, and I just couldn't work there anymore."

"That's the most absurd thing I've ever heard," he cut in, his tone was sharp, yet somehow not unkind. "God, I don't hate you. I could never hate you."

"How can you stand there and say that?" you countered, your voice hurt and incredulous as you took a step away, the cold seeping into your bones and setting your teeth on edge. "You treated me like I was nothing, Spencer."

"Here," Spencer said, handing you his jacket. "You should know, prolonged exposure to cold weather can actually weaken your immune system."

"Oh," you said, slightly startled, feeling the warmth take hold in your cheeks. You rubbed your nose before pulling the jacket over your shoulders. It smelled just like him.

"I don't hate you, you know that, right?" Spencer's voice was soft, like he was whispering even though you were the only two on the street. "I'm sorry if I made you feel insignificant. You're far from it. You could never be nothing. But I was mad, and I let that get the better of me."

"But I tried, Spencer," you choked out, voice wavering, emotion thick in your throat. "I tried to save her. Maybe if I had more training, more experience... I know you wish I had let you be there instead, but I couldn't risk it, not with what I knew. And now our friendship is ruined and I--,"

"Hey, whoa, slow down," Spencer interjected, cupping your cheeks, thumbs brushing away tears you hadn't even noticed. "You think I blame you? Oh, my god, no, sweetheart. I was angry, yes, but it was because you were willing to step in front of a gun."

"You don't blame me?"

"Of course I don't," he breathed out as if he couldn't believe this is what you thought. "I'm so sorry for giving you that impression. It was never my intention."

Your emotions bubbled over into a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob. "I really missed you."

Spencer's heart seemed to shatter than mend in an instant as he drew you against him. "Can I kiss you?"

Giggles spilled out through chattering teeth, punctuating the air as a wide smile graced your lips. "You want to kiss me?" 

"I want to kiss you."

The idea almost seemed to sweet to be true.

"Okay."

He kissed you, and with each snowflake that settled into your hair, Spencer drew you in closer. In a way that you had only dreamed of. The biting cold was there, but it paled in comparison to the blaze that was now ignited through your body. 

It was perfect, everything you had imagined and more--real, warm, and grounding. 

He pulled away slowly, blinking the same speed, snowflakes dusting his lashes like delicate frost.

“I know I’ve been… difficult,” he said, his voice rough, his breath wanting your frozen cheek at the same time.

You pressed a hand to his chest. “Spencer, you don’t have to explain.”

A moment passed, as if he were thinking about your offer, then his gaze found yours, piercing and profound, as if the solid ground you stood on was suddenly fragile.

“But I need to,” he said, the raw need in his voice pulling your straight back into the orbit of his words. “I was angry, yes, you almost got yourself killed. But I pushed you away because it was far easier than facing the fear that I might lose you too.”

The beats of your heart echoed loudly—thump, thump—in its bony cage as your fingers curled tightly into his shirt.

“Every time I looked at you, I saw what I could have lost, and that fucking terrified me.”

Spencer cussed, this wasn’t unusual, but the intensity behind it made you frown. His words, so honest, seemed pull you in, invading his personal space in an effort to get rid of yours.

“You’re not going to lose me.”

The sun was shining now, casting golden rays over the snow and Spencer’s face, framing him just as he was in your mind.

“Then let’s not waste anymore time.”

You love him. Present.

For a second you thought Spencer might be wrong because maybe, just maybe, swallows could return to the same place, and the same partner after all.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf

[nebulablakemurphy]

What’s in a name?

Summary: Haymitch Abernathy x Reader set in the moves & countermoves universe. Y/N is currently pregnant with their second child and they need a name.

Warning: 18+ ONLY MDNI (Smut)

They struck gold with Everest, the child and his namesake. The people of Panem loved the grandiose nature of the name Everest.

The novelty of his existence dwindled over the years, in the public eye. But to his parents, he becomes more perfect each day. By the age of three he possesses luxuries other children his age could only dream of.

Y/N and Haymitch are more than happy with just him. The thought of another child rarely crosses their minds.

Y/N is reading to Everest on the living room couch when Haymitch receives the pristine white envelope stuffed through the mail slot. He skims over the letter three times, painting on a smile as he returns to his wife and son.

Y/N knows him well enough by now that she can feel his distress. Waiting until after Everest is tucked into bed to whisper, “Haymitch, what’s wrong?”

“Snow wants us to have another baby.”

“Ok,” Y/N takes the blow better than she had the first time. “We knew this was coming.”

Haymitch curls his fist around the open bottle of liquor on their bedside table. He gulps it down, unwilling to admit how much he hates the way she isn’t surprised. Even when she cries or screams or throws things, she is fighting. This time she doesn’t fight at all, doesn’t resist in the slightest and it breaks his heart.

He takes it out on her two days later, without meaning to. Instructions from Snow come, sentencing them to the “room” in Y/N’s house with the cameras.

Madge stays with Everest at their house, oblivious to it all.

Before long Y/N is face down, fisting her pretty hands in the sheets as he fucks her.

Haymitch can’t see her face, perhaps that’s why he positioned them this way. He doesn’t deserve to see it.

Her fingers search for his, longing to entwine them, but his mind is far from here, far from his body and her. Going through the motions.

“I love you, Haymitch.”

No, his hips falter. Not that, anything but that. He runs a hand along her spine, her sweat damp skin. “Turn around,” he pulls out, rocking back on his heels to give her room.

Y/N turns to face him, catching her breath. Watching with worried eyes. They don’t switch positions during a recording unless it’s been requested specifically. The goal is always to finish as quickly as possible.

Haymitch closes the space between them, leaning onto his forearms as he eases himself back inside her. “I love you so much.” He murmurs against her ear, causing Y/N to shiver. “I love you.”

Y/N nods, burying her hands in his hair. Understanding how hard those words are for him to speak. “I know.”

“I love you.” A plea, an apology.

“I love you too.” Y/N holds him to her, kissing any part of him she can reach.

————————————————————————-

Haymitch wastes no time, the minute the test is positive, he is on his knees. Talking to their sweet baby, kissing Y/N’s belly, telling them stories. The way he feels about his wife hasn’t changed much since her first pregnancy, he just knows how to communicate it better. He knows what she likes and what she doesn’t, he knows the extent of reassurance she needs to feel safe.

As her belly grows, Y/N comes to him often, seeking comfort in the form of physical intimacy. He welcomes her with open arms, makes her happy. Makes her laugh. Makes her cum. Doing everything he wishes he would have while she was pregnant with Everest.

“Do you think it’s another boy or a girl?” Y/N wonders, watching her husband trace patterns across her belly.

Haymitch smiles, “girl.”

————————————————————————

A few months later his suspicions are confirmed, they are expecting a daughter, announced via Caesar Flickerman and a slew of pink confetti.

Everest squeals in his father’s arms, until Haymitch sets him down so he can dance under the falling pink glitter.

Y/N turns to her husband, with a knowing smile.

“I told you so.” Haymitch cocks his head to the side.

Y/N is in his arms a moment later, silencing him with a kiss.

————————————————————————-

“Is there a name you like?” Haymitch asks; she gets first pick.

Y/N shakes her head, “this one’s all you.”

Finding a name suitable for this child takes months.

“Can’t you just tell me, kid?” He whispers to his unborn child. “What’s your name?”

Y/N chuckles.

“Help me out here.” A swift kick to his nose tells Haymitch that he’ll just have to keep looking.

He searches high and low for a name. In books from the hob and passersby on the street, until finally he passes over the third page of the potential names again.

Arista.

‘The name Arista has its origins in the Greek language and signifies 'Best.’

“Arista,” he murmurs.

“That’s pretty.” Y/N smiles, passing a hand over her belly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

[shouyuus]

(from prev blog) anon asked: Happy bday!! This is my first time using tumblr so idek if this is the right place to ask or if it’s too late! But I was wondering if you could write a Zayne x reader drabble for your 30 event 🤍 I saw someone make a rose out of snow by pressing snow on a card and wrapping it around a stick; I think it’d be so cute for Zayne to do that for the reader while they’re walking back home or smthing (even tho he could use his evol this is cuter 😭)

一翦玫 (one cut rose)

zayne; fluff; i rly said fuck the word limit with this one whoops

─── 黎深 THE MORNING DAWNS in a painful, world-swallowing blue, not a wish or whisper of clouds in sight, and Zayne knows that it’ll be cold enough to blister. He can always feel the winter creeping into his bones, twining between his muscles till they ache for something, for anything.

You’re bleary in his arms when he shakes you awake, and the way you peer up at him through sleep-heavy lashes makes his entire world shimmer down to the size of this bedroom, of your tiny groan as you try to bury your face in his pillow and swat him away.

“C’mon. I’ll walk you,” he says, voice indulgent in the way it only is when he’s speaking to you.

The snow crunches fresh and true underfoot, and he watches as you bloom beneath the robin’s egg sky, head tilting back, your breath twisting up in a thin spiral of white mist as you let out a long breath.

“It’s so beautiful out!”

“Careful, or you’ll slip,” he admonishes, tugging you off a small snowbank back onto the sidewalk. You pout up at him even as he adjusts your scarf.

“Killjoy…” you mutter, and Zayne scoffs, tugging on his own turned up collar.

You pass by an old man selling flowers on the street corner, and you skip ahead to press a bill into his hand, telling him to keep warm even as he smiles and hands you a flower. Zayne watches, a tender happiness threading up his throat as you turn back to hand him the flower.

“For your desk,” you say, “to add some color, or else people are gonna think you’ve got no personality.”

Zayne takes the flower and studies it, a rose in shocking lemon-rind yellow. He brings it up to his nose.

“Thanks.”

You grin up at him, looking pleased and mischievous both.

“Now you owe me a flower too!” you say. Zayne regards you with a contemplative sort of look before turning and continuing down the street. You pout, jogging after him.

“Fine, fine — you don’t have to give me a flower — I was just —”

“You’ll get one,” he says, reaching into his pocket for a credit card. Stooping down towards a mound of untouched snow, he scoops up a thin layer on the card and begins his work, pressing each layer around the previous one, using the heat of his hand to melt the “petals” till they curl into one single snow-white rose.

You gasp as he finishes his work, dusting his hands off on his jacket.

“It’s… beautiful! But… how am I gonna carry if there’s no stem?”

At this, Zayne tsks, summoning his Evol, and you watch with bright eyes as a crystaline stem forms from the base of the rose, extending out, glimmering leaves unfurling in ice as he hands the flower to you. You take it between delicate fingers and smile as you lean in to take a whiff.

“It won’t smell like a rose,” Zayne says, tucking his hands back into his pockets, watching as you stare down at the miraculous flower, “that’s not something my Evol can do just yet.”

But your smile is brilliant as a winter’s morning as you turn back towards him, clutching the flower to your chest, “It’s okay — it smells like winter!”

“Does it now?” Zayne asks, amusement twinkling behind his eyes, “And what exactly does winter smell like?”

You twirl the white rose between careful fingers before shooting him a truly heart-stopping wink —

“It smells like you.”

final wc: 604 || be part of my taglist!

a/n: a few words of explanation -- the trend that anon is asking about can be see here, its rly very cute. also, the title of this fic is a "play" on the popular 一剪梅, aka the "xue hua piao piao" song LMFAO, where i changed the "梅" meaning "plum" from the song title to “玫" from '玫瑰" or "rose" since both 梅 and 玫 are pronounced "mei3". i thought it was a fun little thing to do and the actual song itself is about winter and snow so! :)

taglist: @yaoduriaa @queen-serena88 @stunies

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 37

part 1 | part 36 | ao3

cw: depression, ptsd, references to canonical death and horror

Chapter 9

December

The smudged feeling comes back.

Which sucks, if he's being honest.

Despite the new thing with Eddie and the breathing room in his budget; despite everything going fine with Robin and work and the kids, his good moods never seem to hold. They keep getting muddied up, can't shine through the grubby handprints that threaten to blot them out.

And sure, it's not like he expected one great make out session to change his life (and it was a great one, to be clear; a great make out session and an even better handy later that night in Eddie’s van), but he just…

Shit.

He doesn’t know.

He thought it might feel easier. Life, adulthood; everything. Like the lightness and warmth he felt that night might carry over, might drift through to fill the cracks in him like a blanket of fresh snow.

But they don't, because they can't.

They can't touch the fact that he has no clue what he’s doing. That Steve Harrington's got no purpose, no direction and no point.

Most mornings he's got nothing but his creeping paranoia and a bone deep sense of dread.

The new year closes in like a wet tongue up the back of his neck; hot breath of a drooling grizzly getting ready to take a bite, and the long winter shadows around his house are growing fangs, rows upon rows of razor teeth in petal mouths.

His nightmares tastes like rot and lilac. Something heavy in the air.

And in the mornings he feels stupid when he wakes up shivering in cold sweat, foolish and young and alone. He clutches at his nail bat and peers through the cracks in the blinds, and he feels like a lunatic because there’s nothing out there. Nothing abnormal. Nothing wrong-side up. Just the shadows and the strays; the scurrying of house mice and the skitter of dead leaves.

It’s over now, they told him. It’s over, kid. We won.

They said it all three times.

—

"Uh...”

Eddie's standing in Steve's doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms loosely folded over his chest, a weird smile on his face like he's deeply fucking confused by what he's seeing but is trying so hard to be cool about it.

Which, like. Fair.

It's mid-morning on a Sunday and Steve is crawling on hands and knees in his gutted disaster of a living room — ripping up the edges of his terrible burnt orange carpet without even pausing to say hello — and the kids will be here any minute to help put up the Christmas tree, and he hadn't meant to do this; knows he looks completely manic, sweat dripping into his eyes, knuckles bleeding from the tack strips, but he woke up trembling from another nightmare and decided that everything had to go.

The nightmare felt too real. Long claws and sharp teeth, squelching muck and snaking vines; a flash of Chief Hopper bloody and shorn in a frozen wasteland, but the chief is dead and everyone's dead and Steve is so tired of being haunted by their ghosts, and in his shaken, post-dream haze he convinces himself that it's this place.

This place is the fucking problem.

This godforsaken tin can with spirits crawling in the walls.

They're clinging on like static just before a thunderstorm. In the floorboards, in the rug. Steve can feel them with each step. How many footprints buried themselves in these worn fibers? How many exhausted treks to the fridge and frenzied rushes to the phone; how many angry late-night pacers and visitors overstaying a welcome?

"Stevie?" Eddie clears his throat.

Steve just wants them all gone. The whole haunted circus — wants to strip it to the bones, start fresh with something new.

So far all he’s done is make the place smell like his nightmares. Like dust and death and lilac as he pulls the carpet up. There’s an oily stain on the subfloor from where he smashed his mom’s perfume, and a green-black mystery splotch by the kitchen that could be water damage, or it could be the remnants of a liquified rat. Or a person; so many people, melted meat monster smashing through the city blood and gore in a demodog's jowls the walls pulsing with membranes like some fucked up rotten womb and—

"Hey." Eddie's boots come into view. Calm commandment in his tone, stepping right into Steve's space. "Look at me," he sighs.

Steve sits back and wipes his brow. The sweat stings his cut-up hands, and he wishes he weren't so busy being a nutcase, because Eddie looks good like this. Standing over him, petting a hand through his damp hair. Making him kneel down at his feet. It’s hot. They could do something with this. Steve could—

"You want to tell me what you're doing?"

Tears prick up in Steve's dumb eyes.

What's he supposed to say? There were ghosts in the fucking carpet?

He shakes his head and sniffs, and Eddie steps in a little closer; moves his hand to cup Steve's jaw. "No?" he lifts a brow.

Outside, tires crunch over the gravel, the kids making a racket as they pour out of the Wheelers’ car. Goddammit.

Steve huffs and gets to his feet; lets Eddie steady him. They share a look. The kids are shouting on the lawn. "Can you take us to Home Depot?"

—

part 38

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added tomorrow please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[lookinghalfacorpse]

long overdue cdream seizure drabble for @icecreamvi. dream is finally healthy enough to fight again, but seizures still hit at inopportune times.

/dsmp /rp

It was good to see Dream fighting again.

In all fairness, this fight in particular was a bit annoying. Technoblade and Dream were on their way back home after some errands when they were ambushed in the forest. Techno learned over the years that people who got lost in that enchanted forest, designed by the Goddess of Death to disorient and confuse, grew desperate quickly. They were little more than petty thieves, but even stray dogs are dangerous when they're hungry.

And their archer was infuriating.

Dream raised his shield a bit above his head, stopping an arrow before it landed in Techno's shoulderblade. With his shield occupied, Dream held his opponent at bay while blocking with his axe. "You couldn't afford to watch your back a bit more?" He joked.

"Eh," Techno replied. He was more interested in tossing one of the swordsmen into a tree. Humans are too easy to throw around.

Dream wasn't anywhere close to his former strength, but he could hold his own in battle, and he still overpowered most opponents. It was impressive to watch. He was quick and clever, and he knew how to use his bodyweight as a source of power, even after all the weight he lost. He was quick to disarm the swordsman that opposed him, and while the poor soul scrambled back to his feet and scanned around him for options, Dream stepped forward and smoothly raised his axe above his head--

--when suddenly his shoulder shuddered, and the axe dropped to the snow.

Dream gasped as air was forced out of his lungs, a hand raising to his chest in panic. Techno was familiar with the warning signs of a seizure. He's helped Dream endure countless seizures, both in the Vault and outside of it. He heard the creak of the archer's bow and bolted over to Dream just in time to guard him from an arrow. Instead of landing in Dream's skull, it sunk deep into Techno's mid-back.

Techno tried not to react to the sting. "Hey, Dream--"

Dream made a pained sound as the seizure took hold, his knees giving out and his shoulders spasming. His right shoulder twisted backwards while the left trembled uncontrollably. He fell fully into Techno's arms, his moans giving way to silence as he ran out of breath.

A second arrow hit Techno's shoulder. A third near the base of his neck. The swordsman, seeing his opening, lunged towards his blade.

They needed to run.

Techno gathered Dream's body in his arms and sprinted for the forest. With any luck, its disorienting effects could lend them an advantage. Dream's hands clawed into the fabric of his shirt, pulling it at odd, uncomfortable angles. Techno had to keep adjusting his grip as the young man squirmed and seized, desperate not to hold him too tightly and risk hurting him.

As soon as he couldn't hear arrows fly anymore, Techno ducked behind a large tree and set Dream on the ground, hunching his body protectively over him. If that damn archer found them again, he'd see nothing but piglin.

"Breathe through it," Techno instructed, his own breath heavy from the exertion.

Dream met his eyes. Sometimes he seemed lucid throughout the seizure while other times he seemed more unconscious. This time, his gaze was watery and heartbroken, but intelligent. "Te-- Tech-- Tech--"

"I said breathe, not talk, nerd." Techno placed a hand on Dream's shoulder, rubbing along the fabric of his jacket slowly. "Relax."

Fully encompassed by Technoblade's body, half-buried in snow, and surrendering to a seizure, Dream looked so small.

"You're--bleeding--" Dream coughed, his voice strained as his jaw tightened.

"And you're seizin'. I'd say we're both doin' pretty great."

"I'm--"

"Dream. Hush."

"I'm--sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorr--"

Techno bowed his head until their foreheads touched, letting his eyes fall closed. They'd ride this out together, like they always did.

"--sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

[writeforfandoms]

Who Wants To Live Forever

Find my Ghost masterlist

It doesn't matter how many lives you've lived, you always find your way back to him.

The reincarnation au nobody asked for and my plot bunnies yeeted at me anyway! I have a lot of thoughts about this one that didn't make it into the fic. Like. A Lot.

Warnings: Swearing, past violence, blood, injury mention, canon typical violence, idiots in love, this is just for fun, I wrote this for me but you can read it too.

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

Word count: 2.9k

The dreams started when you were small. Your parents at first attributed them to an overactive imagination and too much television. 

But as you got older and the dreams didn't go away, you wondered. Your parents got squirrelly about them, started muttering about things like psychiatrists and not normal and worried. 

So you stopped mentioning them. Pretended you didn't dream at all most nights. 

Reality couldn't be farther from the truth. 

You dreamed. Every single night. In some you were part of a village, living a harsh life by the sea. The men would go off to hunt and raid, and the women stayed behind to mind the village and raise the children. Those dreams always left you cold. Even in those dreams, though, dream-you noticed the beauty, the way sunlight glinted off snow, the magical lights in the sky, the blue of the sky after a storm. 

Some nights you dreamed of being a nurse, tending wounded soldiers in tents and buildings. Those dreams were always full of screaming and crying and horrors. Men wheezing, coughing up blood. Limbs shattered and mangled beyond repair. A stench like you couldn't describe. But there were little moments, moments of kindness. Holding a man's hand to comfort him through his last breaths. The way the sunrise broke through some of the haze of pain surrounding those places. The way a doctor or fellow nurse would sometimes thank you, buy you a drink, share scant meals with you. 

Sometimes you were a school teacher in a rural village, gently scolding children and keeping watch as they frollicked at break times. Those dreams were full of small joys. A flower one of your students brought you, bashful smile blooming into a grin at your thanks. Sunsets from the comfort of home. Warm meals at the table, often shared. With him.

He was a constant presence. Through all of your dreams, all of those times, he was always to be found. He didn't always look the same - skin tone changed, hair color changed. But you always knew him by those brown eyes. 

Sometimes the two of you married. Sometimes he was married before you met him. Sometimes you were married first. But you always, always found each other. In every time. In every life. 

By the time you were out of school, you had notebooks dedicated to your dreams, to the times, to the man. You kept them hidden away, for your eyes only. Just as a way to help you keep everything straight. 

As more time passed, you became more and more sure that these were glimpses into the past. Your past. Past lives, you'd guess. From the way the dreams felt… it always felt like you. No matter how many times you put pen to paper, you could never accurately describe why. 

But you knew. They were all you.

And they were all him. 

Which made you wonder… when would you find him in this life? You'd found him in almost all of the others. It seemed reasonable that you'd find him again. 

(Nevermind that you had no name, no description, no way of knowing what he'd look like or where he'd be.) 

Knowing that he was out there somewhere made it easy to bury yourself in work. Oh, sure, you had friends. People who knew you. You were well-liked at work, known to get things done. 

But you didn't date. You didn't look for people who weren't him. 

Everyone else, you knew, would pale in comparison. 

All the lives accumulated in your head did make it hard to relate. It was easier, sometimes, to sort of… float through life. You knew what was expected of you. You'd known people from every walk of life, just about. You knew a lot about people, could do well in social situations without working at it. 

But it did make for a rather lonely life. 

You started dreaming of him more often. Of the times the two of you lived together. Of the long talks the two of you had. Of the walks, along the sea, along a grass-lined lane, along a lake. Of the times he was just out of reach, your eyes meeting again and again through crowds and dinners and company. 

Of the time he died in your arms, blood staining the both of you. 

You were tired when you got on the train. This was just a little holiday to a new place. 

Or. Well. You hadn't been here in this lifetime, at least. 

It was busier than you remembered the area being, more built up. Your lips twitched - that's what happened over time, after all. 

Nothing stayed the same for long. 

You didn't pay any mind to the people around you as you walked, taking your time. You didn't mind walking to your hotel from the train station. Gave you a better chance to look around and plan where you wanted to go later. 

Your eyes met brown through a coffee shop window.

You froze. You knew those eyes. You knew those eyes. 

He blinked, just once. You couldn't look away. 

The noise of the coffee shop finally registered when you stopped in front of his table, the chinking of mugs and flatware, the hiss of the machines, the babble of unimportant voices. 

“Hi.” You were a little surprised at your own voice, quiet and a little awed. 

He eyed you, black face mask obscuring most of his expression. For a moment your heart plummeted. Maybe he didn't recognize you? Maybe… he didn't remember? 

Then his lips twitched. 

“Took you long enough.” 

“Took me long enough?” You tried for outrage but probably fell short, humor and elation buoying your heart. “And what about you, hmm?” 

“Been busy.” He nodded to the seat across from him, and you could just see the corners of his eyes crinkle with his smile. 

“Oh, busy. Yes, how silly of me to not think of that.” You dropped into the seat, your bag landing at your feet a little harder than was probably advisable. 

“Holiday?” His gaze dropped briefly to the table, to where your bag was now hidden. 

“Yes.” Some of your elation faded at the dose of reality. “You?”

He paused, holding your gaze. “On leave.” 

“Ah.” You smiled a little, sliding one open hand across the table. “Going well this time, then?”

He didn't say anything for a long moment, staring down at your open hand. His fingers twitched. “Not particularly.” 

Your heart plummeted. “Oh.” 

“S'fine.” He shook his head once, short and sharp. “You want anything? Tea, coffee?” 

“Coffee is fine.” You started to stand but he waved you back into your seat. 

“Wait here.” 

You huffed out a breath and watched him go, broad shoulders easy to track up to the register. You finally had the attention to note other details about him. He was dressed casually, all in black, with his hood pulled up. You'd caught blonde hair under his hood. 

Taller than you could remember him being. Broad shoulders. 

It was just… so good to see him again. To see him now. With your own eyes, in this life. 

It would be nice to make more memories, for next time. 

The clink of a mug being set in front of you brought you out of your own head. You blinked at the mug and then at him as he sat across from you again. 

“How long are you here?” He folded his hands in front of him, gaze fixed on you. 

You shrugged. “I had only planned for a few days,” you admitted. “But I can make it longer.” 

He grunted once, thumb tapping against the side of his hand as he considered something. Then he nodded once. “Meet me here tomorrow,” he said, abruptly moving to grab a pen and a napkin. “1200.” 

You blinked once. “Tomorrow?” You couldn't quite keep the disappointment from your voice at that. 

“Got some things to take care of before then,” he said, barely glancing up at you as he finished writing on the napkin. “Got some people for you to meet, too. If you want to know me better this time ‘round.”

You swallowed against the lump in your throat. He'd married already. That was the only thing you could think of. He was already married and you were too late. “I see.”

“No. You don't.” He pushed the napkin to you, tapping it twice with one large finger. “Here. Tomorrow.”

“1200,” you repeated dutifully, mustering up a wan smile. “Yes. I remember.”

“Good.” He pushed back to his feet abruptly, and you startled a little. He was just so tall! “If you don't show, I'll assume you don't want to meet again.” The words were flat, even, but his eyes… his eyes hid pain. 

You nodded, too startled for words by all of this. In a moment he was gone, striding out of the coffee shop and away from you.

Every fiber of you longed to go after him, to beg him for answers. 

Instead, you sat and sipped your coffee with trembling hands, staring at the napkin until the blocky letters were burned into your memory. 

The walk to your hotel was a bit of a blur. You barely paid attention to the social interaction, though you must have done well enough. 

You ended up sitting on the bed, bag on the floor, staring at your hands. 

He'd been so close. So close. 

But he hadn't taken your offer. He hadn't touched you. 

You thought you might finally be going a little insane. Was this what insanity felt like? Was this some kind of fever dream? Had you finally lost all sense of reality?

But no. You had the napkin in your pocket still. You'd seen him. You hadn't learned his name this time around, hadn't learned much of anything really, except that he had people he wanted you to meet. 

People. He'd said people for you to meet. 

The words finally sank fully into your brain, and you weren't sure whether to laugh or scream. People. People to meet. As in more than one person.

As in he was not only married but had a family…

…or something else entirely. Something new. 

Even after so many lives, the world still had a way of surprising you. A lesson hard learned over time. 

You forced yourself to breathe through the weight of history on your shoulders, staring back at all the lives where things had gone wrong. 

And then you forced yourself to find some dinner, shower, and read for a while before bed. 

Not that you slept very well. Not with anticipation and dread wreaking havoc on your heart. 

You arrived at the meeting spot ten minutes early, a little cafe on a square with a fountain in the middle. You stood outside, hands in your pockets, unsure what to expect. 

“You’re early.”

You swallowed once, heart thudding hard against your ribs as you turned to look at him. “Didn’t want to be late,” you quipped, only to falter. 

He wasn’t alone today.

Three other men stood with him, all of them looking at you. You lifted your chin a little, meeting the gaze of the closest man. You had just enough time to note how blue his eyes were before the memories slammed into you. 

A quiet life working the land, out beyond the edge of the “civilized” world, a husband with a rare but kind smile, eyes so blue you could drown in them. Rare trips to the nearest town gave you glimpses of your brown-eyed man, but no more than that. Cold winters and muddy springs and indomitable shoulders to lean on through it all. 

And a slightly less quiet life of some wealth, with a husband whose work often took him from home. But you’d had friends that time, your own societal duties. Dances. Events. Hosting. That life had not been devoid of its fun and beauty. 

“Oh.” You blinked at him, eyes wide. 

His lips twitched under his facial hair (muttonchops - unusual choice for this day and age) and he held out a hand to you. “Captain John Price.”

You gave him your name and shook his hand, holding his gaze for a moment longer. If he was like the him you’d known, he was a good man. Time would tell if and how he had changed. “I married you before.”

He grinned for a moment, so close to the man you’d known that your heart ached. “Twice, but don’t hold it against me,” he joked before he stepped aside. 

The next man to step up also had blue eyes and a big smile. You knew him immediately - you’d seen him before, too. A few times in the shadow of your brown-eyed love, once or twice on his own. The last time you’d seen him, he’d been standing over the bed of one of his men, half-covered in blood and muck. 

There had been nothing you could do, then. 

Now you smiled. “Good to see you again.” 

“Ye look better this time.” He chucked you gently under the chin with two knuckles, grinning. “John MacTavish, call me Soap.” 

“Soap?” You raised one extremely unimpressed eyebrow. 

He laughed. “A story for another time,” he promised, winking at you before he stepped back. 

The last man looked at you, nerves in the pinch of his mouth and the corners of his eyes. Darker skin and a ballcap met your quick perusal. 

You only had to meet his gaze for a moment before you threw yourself at him, hugging him as hard as you could, breath stuttering in your chest. 

“Hey, hey,” he cooed, arms immediately settling around you, one hand cupping the back of your head. “It’s alright, we’re fine.”

“You left,” you grumbled, hands fisting in the back of his shirt. “You’re not allowed to do that to me again.”

“Promise,” he muttered, voice low, just between the two of you. “I won’t.”

You sniffled, just once, before you pulled back to look at him. “I missed you,” you admitted before gently whapping his arm. “And if you disappear on me again I’ll hunt you down next life.”

“Yes ma’am.” He grinned, not even a little abashed. 

“So, what ridiculous nickname have you gotten this time?” You smiled, finally taking a half-step back. 

“It’s not ridiculous,” he scoffed. “Gaz. Kyle, this time ‘round.”

“Gaz.” You tested it out slowly before shrugging. “Not the worst.”

“Oh? And what would be?” Soap snuck up next to you, looking eager for mischief. 

“Story for another time,” you shot back at him with a smile. You finally turned your gaze to him again, to your brown-eyed man. The only one who hadn’t given you his name yet.

“Simon,” he finally said, as if he’d read your mind. 

“Simon.” You smiled. “How did you…?” You made a helpless motion between the three men. 

“Price,” Simon answered with a little shrug. “Found all of us.” 

“Came across ‘em,” Price said, arms crossed over his chest. “Knew I had to keep ‘em close.” 

You nodded, a little ache in your heart. “It’s a good thing you did.” But your gaze didn’t stray from Simon, too busy basking in the sight of him, here and whole in front of you.

“He’s no’ married yet,” Soap said in a stage whisper. When you glanced at him, he was grinning. “Unattached. Available. Free to a good home.”

“MacTavish,” Simon growled, brows twitching in annoyance. 

But you? You grinned. “Well, that’s good, because it’s your turn this time,” you teased, chin tipping up and to one side. 

Simon’s gaze snapped back to you, eyes a little wide. “What?” 

“I asked you last time,” you said patiently, trying hard to not grin. “Almost kissed you in front of your fiance, too.” 

“Almost,” he agreed, eyes warm as his gaze swept the length of your body. 

“I spotted you yesterday, too,” you pointed out, completely reasonably and not at all like a little gremlin. (You liked that word a lot and had incorporated it as much as you could once you’d caught airmen using it during World War II.) 

“So, ‘s my turn?” He took one step closer to you.

“Mmhm.” You bit the inside of your lip hard to keep your grin to yourself. 

His eyes narrowed at you, which was the only warning you had before he pulled down his face mask and kissed you. Vaguely, you heard Soap cheering and Price grumbling. But everything fell to the back of your mind.

Everything that wasn’t Simon. 

A little piece of your heart clicked into place. 

When he finally pulled back, both of you were a little out of breath, holding each other tight. His lips twitched in a tiny smile and you all but beamed in response. 

And then yipped when someone yanked you away from Simon.

“Best friend dibs,” Kyle announced, already starting to walk you away. “Mine for now, I’ll give her back in a day or two.”

You cackled at the look on Simon’s face, like he was torn between murder and laughing along with the joke. 

“There’s no rush,” you couldn’t help but tease. “We’ve got this entire life, now.” 

Simon met your gaze again even as his long strides caught him up with you and Kyle. His mask was back in place now but his eyes were warm, smiling at you, even as his hand twined with yours. 

Finally. 

[nemisuki]

Winter Breeze

Highschool AU | Waking up late was never unusual for you. It was a bad habit for sure. You're often running hoping to catch the next train to make it in time for school. But one day when you spot a certain white haired individual, you're in for a surprise. Perhaps being late brought one good thing into your life. 

᧔o᧓ || gojo satoru x f!reader, no manga spoilers, no nsfw, 1.3k word count

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

Of course you're late.

When are you not? 

As you swiftly maneuver through the crowded train station, you mutter apology after apology whenever you accidentally bump into somebody. You try to ignore the stares and occasional glares from the passing civilians as you finally reach the turnaisles. Quickly tapping your phone on the scanner and rushing to the station. 

Your eyes dart to the screen hanging down from the ceiling near the escalators. 1 minute for the next train. 

Seriously? Okay then… What about the one after that-

20 minutes.  

Y/N doesn't miss a beat, already used to the delayed arrival of these trains on the daily. With haste she rushes to the escalator and speed walks up the moving steps, zig-zagging through people. Hopefully she can make it intime. 

She finally makes it to the last step and takes a deep breath. Sighing with relief at the sight of civilians still waiting for the upcoming train. 

That's when she spots him. 

In order to avoid a crowded cart, she walks further down the platform where less people are waiting. Y/N pauses in her step when she sees a specific figure in her peripheral vision. Turning her head slowly, her eyes land on the stranger. He's on the opposite platform waiting for a different train, leaning against the wall as he scrolls through his phone. 

The boy isn't doing anything flashy, just listening to music through his wired headphones. Yet he has such a unique appearance that it's almost impossible to look away from. She had to do a double take. He was that gorgeous. Y/N has never seen someone even look remotely close to him. White hair as pure as snow. Tall. Fit. Is he even human? 

Y/N wasn't close enough to see the color of his eyes but it didn't matter. She just knows they are beautiful. She just stood in the middle of the platform and admired him from across the train tracks, she definitely had not seen him before. She would have remembered if she did. 

Her heart skips a beat as he slowly raises his head almost as if he sensed someone staring. However before he spots her, the train zooms into the station. Blocking their line of view and bringing Y/N back to earth. She shakes her head trying to focus and gets on the train before the doors close.

Thankfully she finds a seat near the windows and plops down, putting her school bag on her lap. Out of curiosity, her head attempts to subtly turn and take one final glance at the boy. Surely she won't ever see him again after today. Too many possibilities were in the air. 

Perhaps he's a foreigner here on vacation. Maybe he doesn't live in this district. Who knows? 

So her eyes land on him once again. Once again staring at his phone with nonchalance. Until his eyes lift to meet hers, like he was expecting it. An unreadable expression on his face when staring at her. Immediately she quickly avoids eye contact and looks back down at her lap. How embarrassing, he caught her staring. 

The train slowly starts moving and Y/N sighs as she takes one final peek back at him. His eyes never left hers as his lips slowly curve upwards and….. he winks. She didn't have time to react as the train sped off. 

Leaving her to bury her head in her backpack. Her heart is beating so fast that it rivals the speed of the train.

Y/N was so lost in thought about the significance of the wink that she ended up missing her stop for school. 

All she could think about was their interaction and…….. blue. His eyes were crystal blue. 

She was in fact late to the first period. Nothing new. 

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ NEXT WEEK ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ 

“He's here again!” she mumbles under her breath as she spots him in the same spot as last time. Embarrassingly, she tried to show up around the same time for a few days now but has failed to see him. Today she decided to show up a bit early and it worked. If he winked at her that is a good sign right? 

Now he's there. Yet she's too nervous to do anything. I mean what can she even do when he's across the tracks? She never has even taken that train before. He seems to be taking the train to school as well. She can tell by a school bag he's carrying. 

Well she's not gonna keep staring like a creep….. She has to say something! 

Y/N takes a deep breath to calm her growing nerves. Her stomach feels all queasy and the hands hidden within her winter gloves are sweating. She doesn't have much experience with romance. But if she doesn't try now then she may not ever get another chance. 

With that in mind, she walks directly across from him on her platform and her hand slowly lifts up. It takes all of her courage to not chicken out and her cheeks already feel warm. Her hand starts waving towards him trying to grasp his attention. Thankfully after a few seconds, the boy notices and looks over at her. 

Oh. Oh shoot. 

Her heart flutters and she doesn't know what to do. I mean he cant hear her unless she screams. Her eyes darted around and the station was crowded as usual at this hour. What was she thinking?! In a matter of seconds he swiftly puts his phone in his coat pocket. Giving her all his attention. So he does remember her. 

Her brain short circuits and she slowly mouths that first thing she can think of. 

“I…. Like…. Your….hair!” 

….

….

….

She wants to die. 

Oh my god this is so embarrassing. She's never talking to any boy again. Goodbye world. He probably thinks she’s lame and awkward. With those looks he’s definitely popular at whatever school he attends. As Y/N is having an internal crisis, she watches as he likely thinks about her words. Honestly she hopes he didn't understand her. That will save her the embarrassment she brought upon herself. 

She watches as he tilts his head to the side and he smiles. 

Y/N swears she can hear her own heartbeat in her ears. He's pretty but the way his face brightens up when he smiles is just extraordinary. She didn't understand, it was in the middle of winter yet she felt hot to the touch.

“I…. Like…. Your…. Face” he mouths back to her as he pushes himself off the wall to stand up fully. Confidence radiating off him from that one line. 

Huh? Wait, did he just…

Before she had time to process this, his train zooms into the station and stops for passengers to get on. It blocked her view of him, thankfully erasing his view of her flustered state. It was short lived as he appeared near the window and continued staring at her with a smile or smirk, she couldn't quite tell. 

She saw as he lifted his hand and waved bye to her.

Y/N was so dazed at his responses that she didn't respond right away. But as the train slowly moved about to leave the station. Her hand quickly shoots up and waves bye. A look of awe in her face. 

“B-Bye……” she mumbles out loud as if he could hear her. Maybe it was her flustered face. Maybe it was the way her body was stiff as a rock. Maybe he saw her mumble something under her breath. 

Because after her little awkward wave to him, his lips curved upwards more and he started chuckling a little at her. Straight after that, the train zooms and exits the station in a flash. The cold breeze from the train's departure makes her hair sway in the wind. It's freezing out here, yet her body felt like it was on fire. 

She stood there frozen like winter air got the better of her. 

Already planning to come to this station at the same time tomorrow. 

And for the first time in a while Y/N was early for school.

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[vilevenom]

This idea slapped me in the face this morning and wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it down, so here you go.

This is Just a Hiccup

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog (movie universe)

Pairing: Sonic & Shadow (sonadow, if you squint)

Summary: It was nearly Christmas. Sonic should be excited to finally spend it with his family. But he couldn't help but think about someone who wasn't there... WARNING: MILD SPOILERS for Sonic 3

Sonic sighed quietly as he watched snowflakes gently swirl and float through the air through the living room window, his breath momentarily fogging up the glass. It had been snowing for nearly a week straight, coating Green Hills in a thick layer of soft white. While it gave the rest of the town a festive appearance, with the way the frost covered trees in town sparkled like glitter, Sonic couldn't help but feel like the it made the yard look desolate and unwelcoming. Everything felt quiet and cold to the blue hedgehog, mirroring his melancholy. It was rapidly approaching Sonic's first proper Christmas with his family, and by all rights he should be ecstatic, but he just couldn't find it in himself to muster up his usual exuberance.

"Hey, Sonic!" Tails chirped, hopping up onto the window bench next to the blue hedgehog, his namesakes waving behind him happily, "Maddie said the cookies are almost cool enough to start decorating. Are you going to come help?"

"Hmm? Oh, uh…nah. Last time I tried to help Maddie ice cookies I squeezed the tube too hard and it exploded everywhere. I should probably stick to just eating the results," Sonic hummed, turning to his little brother with a tiny, only slightly forced smile.

Tails frowned at him, his tails drooping as he eyed Sonic. "…Are you thinking about Shadow again?"

Sonic blinked in surprise, not realizing just how transparent he'd been. Though, in retrospect, he supposed sighing sadly every few minutes while staring forlornly out the window wasn't exactly what most people would consider 'subtle'. "I've been pretty obvious, haven't I? Sorry. I don't mean to be a bummer."

"You're not a bummer. I'm just worried about you. Ever since we got word from the doctors that Tom would be okay, you've been…mopey. I didn't want to bring it up in front of the others, because I know it's not really your style to talk about feelings, but…Are you okay?"

"I mean…Okay as I can be," Sonic sighed with a shrug, shifting around on the window bench to properly face Tails, "I guess I just…regret how our interactions went. He was the first hedgehog I'd ever seen, and we just wound up butting heads every time we met. And then with Tom getting hurt, and my Super rampage, I…We did talk a bit, and I never would've been able to divert the eclipse canon without him. But then…he died. He sacrificed himself, and I'll never get to tell him that I'm sorry for what happened to him. That I'm sorry he felt like he had no one else in the whole world, and that…that I couldn't save him. I know it's been months now, but it just keeps circling around in my head."

"Sonic," Tails murmured, his ears pressed back as he scooted into his brother's side, wrapping his arms around him in a tight hug, his tails blanketing them in soft fur, "I'm sure he knew you would've done more if you could."

"Yeah," the hedgehog sighed, returning the hug and half burying his face in the tuft of fur on the top of Tails' head, "You're probably right."

The peaceful moment lasted a minute or two, with the snow still falling to the ground outside the window, and Knuckles and Maddie's conversation quietly filtering into the living room from the kitchen, before it was shattered by the doorbell ringing, and Ozzie's sharp bark at the unexpected sound. Sonic groaned at the noise, echoed by Tails grumbling into his shoulder.

"I've got it!" Tom's voiced came from the hallway, shortly followed by his hurried footsteps towards the front door.

Sonic sighed at the sound of the door opening, gently pushing Tails away with a soft smile. "Thanks, bro. I think I needed that," he hummed, ruffling Tails' fur tuft with a lopsided grin. He snorted as the fox swatted at his hand and jumped off the bench, shooting Sonic a quick, brilliant smile.

"Anytime, Sonic," Tails chirped, before he trotted off into the kitchen to join Knuckles and Maddie. Sonic moved to follow when Tom's voice cut through the rest of the noise in the house.

"Sonic? There's a…visitor to see you."

Tilting his head curiously, Sonic's shoes squeaked against the floorboards as he swiftly shifted the direction he'd been walking, trotting towards the front door instead of the kitchen. "A visitor? Could it be one of the many fans of Blue Justice?" His chuckled died in his throat as he saw Tom's pensive face, and the person in the doorway came into view. "Agent Stone?!" Sonic immediately shifted into a defensive stance, quills bristling and a scowl on his face, "What're you doing here?"

"Relax," Stone sighed, rolling his eyes at Sonic's low growl, "I'm only here as an escort."

"Escort?" Sonic echoed curiously, relaxing his stance and standing straight, "To who?"

With that, Stone stepped to the side, revealing a familiar black and red hedgehog, though he was swaddled in a black puffer jacket and deep red scarf to fend off the winter chill, making him look smaller than he was. His gaze was focused to the side, while a small white box was clutched in his hands.

"Shadow?!" Sonic couldn't help but shout in surprise, a wave of confusing emotions crashing over him as tears welled in his eyes. "You're alive!" He rushed forward and crushed the other hedgehog in a hug, heedless of the box the other held. Barely a moment passed, however, before Sonic swiftly stepped back with another scowl on his face. "You're alive?!" he snapped, "It's been months! You just left me hanging?!" And before either Stone or Tom could react, Sonic reeled his fist back and punched Shadow in the shoulder, causing the dark hedgehog to flinch and take a stumbling step back.

In a flash, Sonic found his view of Shadow blocked by the long black jacket that Stone wore, the former Agent letting out a low growl at Tom. "Control your kid," he snarled, before he swirled around and crouched in front of Shadow on the front doorstep, worry blatant on his face. Sonic was utterly flabbergasted as Stone's hands fluttered near Shadow, only touching when the dark hedgehog gave a near imperceptible nod. At that, Stone bushed his hands over Shadow's shoulders, the hedgehog's gaze fixed resolutely on the ground. Sonic was fairly certain that if he didn't have above average hearing, he wouldn't have been able to hear the hushed conversation the two then had. He was quite confident that Tom couldn't.

"Are you okay?"

"I am uninjured."

"That's not what I asked. Remember what we talked about? Even if you're not physically injured, it doesn't mean you aren't hurt. Now…are you okay?"

"I…will be."

"Alright. Well…did you still want to deliver your gift?"

Another near imperceptible nod from Shadow, and Stone stood back up, shooting the blue hedgehog a glare. Sonic couldn't help but shrink back slightly, feeling similarly to how he did when Maddie or Tom scolded him. He flicked his attention back to Shadow, who stepped forward once more, this time holding the small, now slightly crushed white box out towards Sonic, his red eyes fixed on the doorframe, rather than on the reception of his gift.

"Oh, uh," Sonic gingerly took the box, watching as Shadow quickly stepped back again, his fingers curling anxiously into the sleeves of his jacket, "Thanks?" He glanced up at Tom, who simply shrugged at him and gestured towards the box. Tentatively Sonic opened it, revealing a small, somewhat smushed and obviously homemade cake, with 'I'm Sorry' written in wobbly blue icing across the top. He stared down at the cake for what was probably longer than strictly necessary, momentarily lost in another swirl of confusing emotions.

"Sonic? It's usually polite to say 'thank you' after receiving a gift," Tom's voice broke through the thoughts swirling in Sonic's mind, the blue hedgehog quickly shaking his head.

"Right, yeah," Sonic breathed, looking up to find Shadow's piercing gaze finally focused on him. He swallowed thickly, for once at a loss for words as green met red and they stared each other down. "Thank you," he finally mustered after far too long, his voice weak.

Shadow simply nodded, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "You're welcome," he murmured in return, turning on his heel as if to leave.

"WAIT!"

Stone was already at the bottom of the stairs, while Shadow was halfway down, both pausing to stare at Sonic after his shout. He swallowed, frantically looking up to Tom, who was of no help as he arched a curious brow at Sonic.

"Uh…Maddie just made cookies, and we were going to decorate them! And then, after dinner, Knuckles, Tails and I were going to go look at Christmas lights around town. Can…Do you want to join us?" Sonic quickly rambled, clutching the little cake box to his chest. He looked up to Tom once more, desperation on his face, "Can they stay for dinner?"

Tom snorted quietly, reaching down to gently ruffle Sonic's quills. "Sure, bud. I'll go let Maddie know," he hummed, striding off towards the kitchen, leaving Sonic alone with Stone and Shadow.

"…May I?" Shadow asked, turning towards Stone, who looked mildly surprised.

"I don't see why not," Stone said after a moment with a short shrug, turning to walk back up the stairs, "If you want to."

"I…Yes. I do."

Sonic couldn't help the beaming grin on his face as he stepped aside to let the two surprise guests into the house, now knowing without a doubt that this Christmas was going to be the best one he'd experience to date. He'd make sure of it.