#so maybe I can give that to someone else too

[pipthepiper]

You could make a Yandere Virgin Viktor, what he would be like if he were in love with his new assistant, but he hasn't declared himself yet..

( I don't know if you make yandere characters, if you can't do that I understand and I'm sorry for this request )

yandere!virgin!viktor who knows — just knows — you’ll be the one to take his virginity the instant he lays eyes on you.

he’s been waiting. waiting so long for that special someone to show up — the someone who he could give himself to wholly and completely, with absolutely no regrets.

and you are that person. viktor just knows it.

it’s in the soft way you speak to him, the way your gaze lingers on him from time to time, the occasions when you subtly slide against his front to allow your plump rear to graze his cock — you want to take it, it’s so obvious; you want him to completely lose his mind as he buries himself inside your pussy over and over, as he loses every bit of his innocence with each drag and slide. as you take it from him.

you want to be the one to fuck him up entirely. and anyone could see it, right? it’s not just viktor.

he’s sure sky can see it, more than positive that jayce can too — doesn’t miss the way jayce sometimes bristles with jealousy when you snuggle yourself into viktor’s personal space and talk so low it’s like you’re whispering to him (and only him); and viktor doesn’t even try to shake off the satisfaction it makes him feel.

you’re his as much as he’s yours.

and that’s why you don’t pull away when his hand “accidentally” grazes your soft chest as he reaches past you to grab something. it’s why you don’t bring any focus to the way his eyes practically undress you, despite the fact that you’re very aware of it. it’s why you lean into his touch, why you hug him for a fraction of a second longer than anyone else at the end of the day, why you smile and giggle so much when he talks to you.

viktor knows it, but something is holding him back; maybe it’s fear, maybe it’s doubt, maybe it’s his complete lack of experience — maybe it’s all three rolled into one. even the irrefutable fact that it’s destined by the stars fails to give him the courage to act upon it.

but one day, he will. one day he will bury himself deep inside that hot cunt of yours and lose every bit of sanity and innocence within your walls; he’ll fuck you so good that all the waiting will be worth it. he’ll give you his everything until you cry from how painfully deep his love is embedded into your bones.

he’ll make you see the truth.

but for now, viktor will simply fuck his own fist while he fantasizes about you; eagerly biting into his lip and craving the day he can merge your realities together to create one entirely new, entirely unique to just you two.

because that’s how it’s meant to be. viktor knows it.

actually my first time ever writing yandere pls be gentle </3 i actually really enjoyed writing this so thank you so much for requesting! gotta get back to the other drafts i have so many jfc thank you all for reading and i love you so much!

[cometconmain]

I have someone who comes to groom my dog because I physically can't keep up with it. He's extremely good at his job.

He also thinks Trump isn't all that bad a guy, the Democrats are the anti-human rights party, had no idea the Supreme Court was a thing/is controlled by Republicans and that's why so many human rights are being rolled back in America, refuses to actually use his privilege of having a preferential voting system to not have to vote for the two major shitty parties because he insists on believing nothing good has been done despite numerous proving points to the contrary in his own life let alone others' lives, thinks climate change is a hoax and can't wrap his head around why university studies need to be checked for a donor list and a fossil fuel company supported 'study' isn't reliable actually, hasn't even learned the most basic empathy concept of "you not suffering from a problem other people suffer from doesn't make that problem less important/you should care about people whose lives you don't experience", outright said with his full chest that maybe we should racially segregate the Olympics again actually, and a number of other toxic to downright rancid things I would have just written him off and slammed the door in his face for last year let alone a few years ago.

Don't get me wrong. Talking to him is fucking EXHAUSTING and I feel physically disgusting afterward having to just calmly listen to all these things he spouts which have historically resulted in entire groups of people being targeted for genocide and numerous other human rights abuses when left unchecked and allowed to fester at the societal level.

BUT HE LISTENS WHEN I CHALLENGE HIM.

I can see him actually seeing me as a human being worth listening to. He's older than me and definitely been down way too many right-wing rabbit holes for me to pull him onto the surface any time soon. But I'm giving him things to chew on and hopefully if we're lucky I've planted some seeds which will eventually grow into some semi decent human being plants one day. He's really ignorant and clearly under-educated and that itself isn't his fault and biting his head off isn't remotely going to make up for that gap and is only going to drive him further into the arms of whatever fucked up extremist conservative groups he's been listening to.

He is reachable. He's just also a very long project I only get to work on for an hour at a time every 6 weeks.

And some of the things I've said which I think were part of what got through to him involved showing empathy for him being a single father(? I may have mixed that up with someone else but I think he is) with a disabled kid. He shows empathy for disabled people because he's the father of one (and probably is neurodivergent himself I believe but unsupported and doing his best to give his son the support he didn't get from the sounds of it).

But yeah.

Listen: you don't have to take shit to the face if the person is solely malicious and trying to hurt you. No one is obligated to meet that with kindness and anyone saying otherwise can get fucked. There is a limit to how much bullshit someone can cop while the bullshitter acts like any emotional response to their bullshit is unreasonable/out of nowhere and that is valid on the part of the person copping the crap.

However, if you a) can handle coping long enough to break down those walls with unexpected kindness/it isn't dangerous for you to try that method (VERY IMPORTANT. PAY ATTENTION TO THOSE DETAILS. DON'T TRY THAT ON SOMEONE WHO IS ACTIVELY THREATENING/DANGEROUS TO YOU), or b) can tell it's soft bigotry/general ignorance driving the otherwise yuck things being said, do give the compassion and patient education route a try.

I've had numerous instances of me holding shitty ignorant beliefs I had no idea were actually harmful. The people biting my head off didn't get to me. The people who took the time to see I was just ignorant and under-educated on the matter (and hadn't yet developed the empathy for a group I didn't belong to) taking me aside and patiently dealing with my idiocy long enough to explain things to me in a way that got through my skull (and eventually into my heart as well) were the ones who fundamentally improved me as a person. I still have plenty of things I always have to work on. But I can tell you now I would be much MUCH worse without those patient, kind, educational interventions by people who could tell the difference between malice and ignorance.

The same applies to everyone else.

Human beings are human beings. All of us. Re-humanising each other is the last thing any of the politicians and extremist groups want us to do BECAUSE IT WORKS. IT BREAKS THE WARPED MODEL OF THE WORLD THEY PORTRAY AS REALITY TO DIVIDE US AND KEEP US ALL AT EACH OTHER'S THROATS INSTEAD OF CUTTING OFF THE FOOD SOURCE FOR THEIR WEEDS AT THE ROOT.

When we remind a hurting person that we are a person too, not the bogeyman the extremist groups paint us as, it shakes their warped worldview to the core. It makes them think. It makes them QUESTION. It makes them look at the flower the 'evil' Pride-pin wearer gave them because no one gave them flowers when their mother died and their hate begins to crack at the seams.

The things the world teaches men hurts men too. Teaching them they DON'T have to subscribe to that mentality all the way down to the roots of the patriarchy weed is the best and most effective way of cutting that mentality off at the source. Even if you struggle to empathise with men because you've been hurt; ok, valid. But it is demonstrably more effective, sustainable and long term changing to just get rid of all of it by addressing their pain and showing them how much healthier and happier they can be just in their own life let alone others' lives by casting off the system that hurts them too.

I'm pretty sure I'm just rehashing the same points here, sorry, but the concept of deradicalisation as a healing and long term change tool has been my social justice special interest this year so talking it out helps it solidify in my own head too. (And gives me strength to deal with bullshit because it reminds me it's worth copping what I can personally handle in order to get someone to think, change and grow, one exhausting person at a time).

part of the reason i love how bell hooks talks about masculinity is that she shows real compassion towards men suffering from the effects of toxic masculinity. she was conscious of how we need to unlearn the ways we talk about men + masculinity just as much as we need to unlearn the same for women + femininity. so many times ill see someone talking about toxic masculinity like (hyperbolizing here but only slightly) “these FUCKING STUPID BABY BITCHES won’t MAN UP and go to a therapist!!!” and like. i get the anger. but you see feminists recreating patriarchal manhood by only promoting good behaviors through patriarchal frameworks. any use of the term “real men” is bad because it reifies the idea that manhood is a special title you must earn, and it is something possible to fail and fake. & as important as it is to promote sexual equality + the pleasure of non-cis-men, lots of people are essentially still working with the idea that men need sexual prowess to have worth but just shifting it slightly so there is more emphasis on women’s pleasure. but I want cis men to think about their partners’ pleasure because they care about their partners, not because they need to check a box in order to keep their man card. and don’t get me started on small dick jokes– and the absolutely pitiful excuse people will use that “well, I don’t believe it, but misogynistic men get upset when I say it, so it’s okay!”

basically bell hooks is so fucking right. in order to create loving men we need to love men, simply for being alive, whether or not they are performing. as much as we need to actively unlearn misogyny (and we do), it’s equally vital we unlearn patriarchal ways of seeing manhood. we can’t just assume that taking a feminist perspective automatically means there is no work to be done there.

[redeyeyuna]

WHEN THE CAMS ARE OFF

So, Nandor and Guillermo are canonically doing some things when when they're not being filmed. With knowing this, I wanted to recap a few things from the season.

This post will mainly focus on how Nandor in particular handled himself subliminally towards the camera in certain situations. Also, that Guillermo faked to leave the vampires in E11 just for the documentary got me thinking which other things could be made up too. Giving a false view of facts just to make the audience think otherwise or to distract them from something specific... This specific thing they wanted to keep private, and didn't want it to be anyone else's business. Cause they wanted to solve and figure it out for themselves without having it exploited to the full in front of the camera. And this is the relationship development (secret affair) between Nandor and Guillermo that ran its course and has been cooked in the background during the sixth season.

[Sorry in advance for grammar mistakes and typos. English is not my first language]

The first hint is alreay in the first episode!

Nandor necessarily has to emphasize that he hasn’t seen Guillermo since he left, and Guillermo immediately throws in that he is telling the truth. But Nadja seems already to know what’s going on between these two idiots.

Also, Nandor trying to help Guillermo by searching for a flat and then suggest him to move into the VERY NEAR garden shed… A practical temporary solution if you don't want to be disturbed by the other housemates. I can well imagine that Nandor already thought of a better place for the two of them at this time. *Caugh* Secret underground lair *Caugh*

/|\ ^._.^ /|\

What about Nandor having a crush on the Guide?

... did he really ever have that, though?😏 What if Nandor’s crush on the Guide was made up by himself just for the documentary to distract the crew/viewers from himself and Guillermo, so that they don't keep following them to catch some shots? Yes, I know Nandor’s sudden crush on the Guide was at first caused by the sleep hypnosis… But for Nadja, the hypnosis seemed like a dream… Perhaps Nandor also thought he had dreamt that he suddenly had a crush on the Guide (or maybe Guillermo just told him) and Nandor was like: “You know what? That’s perfect! I use this to distract the doc crew and viewers from me and Guillermo!”

Nandor had one or more love interest in almost every season that he had a crush on. Why should it be any different now?

Due to this the film crew weren’t focussed on following them and wouldn’t wondering if Nandor could actually have something going on with Guillermo. Nandor’s crush on the Guide in general seemed very odd and just pretended for the camera/viewers. Over time, it seemed to appear more and more obviously and artificially.

In E4 "The Railroad" before Nandor said goodbye to the Guide, he looked suspiciously over his shoulder before making his flirtatious move towards her. It seemed as if he was aiming at it. Shouldn't he have been eyeing up his crush instead of making sure he was filmed flirting?

In E7 "March Mandess" Nandor looked very obviously into the camera during the scene used for the flashback, while Nandor is talking to Charmaine about the guide.

I also wonder why it was so important to Nandor that Charmaine would keep the thing of him and the guide to herself. Cause it’s made up and he just mentioned that he would has a crush on someone so that the film crew could add flashback? Generally, threatening to kill her in her sleep just because of that felt a bit too excessive, doesn’t it?

When the Guide finally rejects him perfectly in E9 “Come Out and Play” (you go, Girl!), Nandor seemed to fully ignore her destruction she has thrown at him.

He purposely ignored what she said. Even though he is normally so easily outraged. Especially after these true words that his supposedly "big love" said to him, he should’ve been at least a bit upset.  

Just remember how devastated he was, when Gail rejects him, and she had rejected him way more nicely.

And please just directly compare Nandor’s “look of love” towards the Guide with how he looked at Guillermo in E3…

And the Oscar-worthy performance, in which Nandor fell on his knees saying overdramatically that the Baron should take his life instead of the Guide seemed totally forced.

Also, Nandor knew very well that the Baron wouldn't have killed anyone…

In E11 “The Finale” Nandor and the Guide is only a short topic at the beginning of the episode, when Nadja asked him if Laszlo could use some parts of the Guide for the Monster. Nandor didn't seem to be listening anyway with his mind somewhere else.

After it was announced that the film crew wanted to end the documentary, he didn't even flirt or interact more intensely with the guide in the entire episode.  As if he no longer needed to fool anyone now that he knew the movie crew was leaving.

/|\ ^._.^ /|\

What about Nandor still saying mean things towards Guillermo?

I also want to cover up the thing of Nandor remaining to say mean things towards Guillermo and wiping his hand on him after the intense hand clasp cause it was a bit clamy.

I I have read criticism of it in some WWDITS negatively posts. And this opinion is valid, no question. But I could imagine that Nandor only continued to do this for the camera, or it is just a normal thing between them cause they are a very fucked up toxic couple anyway ;)

Look at the slightly unsettled grin on Nandor's face when he gave towards the camera. As if he was worried that this very unusually long-lasting hand clasp could lead to more while the camera is still rolling. So, he had to come up with a quick excuse to end it. This facial expression from Nandor looking directly into the camera is so different from the looks he gave to the camera while interacting with the guide. It is just a short glace towards the lens before he puts his eyes back to Guillermo.

Guillermo looked as if he was sad not to express his gratitude to Nandor the way he would like to (cause of cameras as well maybe?)

/|\ ^._.^ /|\

The Finale

Nandor was so obviously happy that the documentary crew were going to leave. He was excited to shoot B-roll footage all the time and he sassily said this when Nadja told him about Guillermo being sad about the end of the documentary:

Looks like someone was really excited to no longer be constantly followed by the camera so that they could continue to focus on "other things"... Also, this reference to the will they/won’t they dynamic of Nandermo is insane.

Colin and Nadja suspecting Guillermo of having a secret relationship with one of the crew members could be an indirectly hint of a secret relationship with Nandor as well. @barren-heart already did this post about it which has made me to create this summary (hope you don't mind me mentioning you here :3).

Nadja possibly saw Guillermo making out with someone who looks like Nandor and maybe it was actually just Nandor!

She just don’t recognised it that fast cause they might quickly disappeared somewhere OR it was just another hint from Nadja, because she knew. She had become a bit of a nandermo shipper this season ;)

In the last speech of Nandor for the documentary it was so clearly to notice that the lair is only a metaphor for Nandor’s private life with Guillermo after the film crew would be gone...

This directly glance into the camera during the speech pause... As if he explicit wanted to make clear that he wanted to say something different when the cameras would be off.

And Guillermo’s reaction during that scene is so fucking funny. He seemed to have a moment of hope that Nandor would actually reveal their affair, but no it is the superhero lair again.

/|\ ^._.^ /|\

The Final Scene

In the background, there was played the same song that was used in the pilot episode for the post-credits. I like that really much!

🎶“Tonight in the Moonlight” (Morrie Morrison Orchestra)🎶 Tonight in the moonlight When silver blends with blue We'll do the thing all lovers do Lingering on till dawn breaks through Tonight in the moonlight with you

And again that offensive look into the camera from Nandor in the middle of his speech and Guillermo trying to get something specific out of him...

If, by this time, someone still does not consider Nandermo to be canon, then I can no longer help them xD

Subtext is their thing! That's always been the case throughout all the seasons! And in such a way that it was already too subtle to be subtext.

However, even Guillermos love sick puppy eyes and his cute “What about one… one of the other reasons?" didn't caused Nandor to spit it out. He bravely continued to avoid eye contact and was trying very hard not to become weak.

When Guillermo said that he won’t be here anymore after Nandor would wake up, Nandor’s description of their secret lair feels forced, which again supports the thesis of an actual love cave: “But what about us joining forces and fighting crime in a coequal partnership? Operating out of a hidden underground lair accessible exclusively by a top-secret coffin elevator.”

Of course, Nandor believed that Guillermo wouldn't leave and was just putting on a show for the camera. He knows his Guillermo better than anyone else...

And THIS look of Nandor’s face when he wanted Guillermo to sit with him inside his coffin comparing with a confirming deep voicing “Mm-hmm”

Oh boy, as if they are going to do very spicy things in that lair...

Then finally the relevation of Nandor’s masterpiece...

During the whole season Guillermo had a problem with sexual things in front of the camera while Nandor had a problem with expressing deep and meaningful feelings while the crew was filming. And because of that they prefer do both things IN THE SHADOWS!

/|\ ^._.^ /|\

So, this my view of Season 6 and the Finale and also my special tribute to my most favorute show! 🦇♥️

It has become longer than expected. Thank’s to everyone who has taken the time to read it this far!

[antimonyandthyme]

WHAT IF CARCAR REALLY HAD MAGNETS BETWEEN THEM

/or a stuck together au

“It’s like Eat Pray Love,” Carlos says.

“I’ll be honest,” Guanyu says. “Neither of you remind me of Julia Roberts much.”

“Please just,” Oscar massages the bridge of his nose, “point to a place on the map. Any place.”

“Why China,” Guanyu presses. Of course he’s curious. “Why not Spain or Australia?”

“Neutral ground,” Oscar says quickly.

“Ah I see,” Guanyu says. “You can’t agree on a spot, right?”

“I keep telling him,” Carlos says, always with the over-the-top gesticulating. He tries it with both hands first, then realizes Oscar’s being all sorts of petty and weighing his left arm down on purpose where they’re joined, so he continues gesturing eagerly with his right. “Come to Madrid!” He nearly smacks Oscar in the nose with his hand. Oscar scowls. “We have so much good food. I can show you all the things, but no! Piastri will only agree to get sunburned on Australian sand. We have beaches in Spain, too!”

“Guanyu,” Oscar urges, “a place, now.”

“Here,” Guanyu says, index finger plopping down. Like some cartoon scene, both Oscar and Carlos automatically lean in to squint at the map, and bump their heads against each other.

“I hate you.”

“Hard same.”

“Lijiang is actually a famous honeymoon destination,” Guanyu says.

“I hate you,” Carlos says.

“Hard same,” Oscar says.

“Hey.” Guanyu grins like this entire situation is wildly hilarious. Maybe it is, for everyone else. Oscar kinda wants to jump into the sea, but Carlos will only drag him down, their uncoordinated conjoined limbs tangled and thrashing. “You guys asked me to choose. Look, don’t you want to see pandas?”

Carlos makes some sort of shocked noise. Oh, for the love of—Oscar groans. He knows when someone’s just bought something.

“Carlos wants to see pandas,” Guanyu says, sounding far too delighted. “Chengdu’s like a fourteen-hour drive from Lijiang, that’s totally doable.”

They stare at him blankly.

“Oh my god. Chengdu, you know? Research base for giant panda breeding? Panda capital of China?”

Twiddle-Dum and Twiddle-Dee: “Ohhhhh.”

“Yeah, now you got it. In between, you can hit a dozen other places and never grow bored.” Guanyu taps his finger along the map, tick, tick, tick. “So why not? Complete the journey. Transform into Julia Roberts.”

“And break the curse,” Carlos says solemnly.

“Break the curse,” Oscar repeats miserably, but with his left hand, goes to look up flight tickets on his phone.

--

They discover that the only way they can pull on extra layers is if they yank themselves apart with all their might, creating just a sliver of space between their elbows. It’s painful. Oscar never wants to have to do this again.

“Now,” Carlos yells, and in a flurry of movement Oscar gets his coat on before their elbows snap back together.

Ow, ow. Oscar’s eyes are watering. He suspects Carlos’s is doing just the same.

“Okay, okay,” Oscar says. “Now your turn.”

Carlos waves him off. “I’m not cold.”

Oscar opens his mouth to argue, but Carlos is already dragging them off toward a sign with a car on it. The rental cars are left-hand steering, and it dawns on both of them at the exact time that Oscar will be doing all the driving, with the way they’re stuck to each other.

“No fair,” Carlos moans, as Oscar fist pumps the air. It would be too childish to stick his tongue out at Carlos. So he doesn’t.

A part of Oscar’s a spectator to all of this. Watching with his mouth hanging wide open, some disembodied shade looking from outside in, as his own body purchased tickets, packed a luggage (with Carlos in the same room), and boarded a plane. None of this makes sense. Getting into a car with Carlos, firstly. Then with the added condition that both of them have to clamber in from one side, before Carlos can climb over the middle console into the passenger seat. Fourteen hours of this, huh? He’s going to give Guanyu hell when they get back.

If, they make it back. Oscar guesses it’ll be two hours before they attempt to murder each other. You don’t go road tripping with people you can’t stand. It’s the one and only sacred rule of road tripping.

“I think I saw this in Final Destination.”

Oscar, zoned out staring at the road, manages a stupid, “What?”

“You know that pileup where everyone dies?”

“Everyone always dies in Final Destination.”

Carlos rolls his eyes, shakes their joined elbows for emphasis. “The scene where the logs fall off? A lot of screaming? A lot of swerving? All because they were stuck behind a logging truck?”

“Carlos.” Oscar takes one deep, deep calming breath. “Are you asking me to overtake?”

“If you can, yes,” Carlos says, like Oscar’s the one being thick. “Go on. I’ll help you hold the wheel steady.”

Oscar cranes his neck and glances around the side of the truck. The opposing lane seems clear, not a headlight in sight. What the heck. You can take the driver off a track, but he’ll still want to race.

“Woo!” Carlos yells, as Oscar zooms around the steadily plodding truck. A little clumsy, with Carlos almost overcompensating the steer as they merge back into the right lane, but successful, nonetheless. No one dies.

Mismatched hands on the wheel. Adrenaline spiking for just a few seconds of speed. Oscar finds himself wearing a grin to match Carlos’s. Maybe they’ll cut it down to thirteen and a half hours like this.

--

“Guanyu was right,” Carlos says thoughtfully.

Oscar’s got his nose buried in a helpful English guide. A sense of ambitious adventure appears to have overtaken them. He wants to hit at least three lookout points today. “About?”

“Look,” Carlos points in some vague direction. “All the couples.”

“Huh,” Oscar says. “That is a lot of couples.”

No one pays them any mind. They haven’t been recognized since they stepped foot here. For all intents and purposes, they could just be another one of those peaceful couples, milling about.

Well. Peaceful, would be a bit of a pipe dream.

“YOU CAN PLAY GOLF AT JADE DRAGON SNOW MOUNTAIN.”

“Carlos,” Oscar hisses. “Quiet.”

“You can play golf,” Carlos repeats, softer but no less excited, eyes larger than two sparkling coins, “at Jade Dragon Snow Mountain!”

Oscar snatches the guide back from Carlos’s hand. “I’m pretty sure I just read that the mountain’s considered holy.”

“They let people play golf on a holy mountain,” Carlos says for the third damn time. “I love it here.”

“We’re not playing golf,” Oscar says.

“Oscar,” Carlos says, dismayed.

“You have one hand, remember?” Oscar wriggles their stuck arms, a reminder he didn’t even know Carlos would have needed.

“Riiight,” Carlos says, shoulders drooping.

“We can still see the mountain though,” Oscar says, is alarmed at the tiny skip-hop going on in his chest when Carlos brightens again. Doesn’t take a lot to keep this guy happy. That’s, good for him. That’s good.

They decide the cable cars up are too much hassle, with the queues already stretching out for hours. The mountain’s basically viewable from anywhere, so Oscar steers Carlos toward Old Town. Where he discovers that Carlos is terrible at haggling. Absolute nightmare. He hands over money to anyone who so much as gestures him over. The singular tote bag Oscar brings starts to get filled with random trinkets, from fans to calligraphy pens.

“What’s this,” Oscar says, when Carlos shakes his head as Oscar prepares to pack away two wooden charms in the shape of a very rotund cat.

“Not for keeping,” Carlos explains. “They’re for wishes. We hang them up in the temple.”

“Oh,” Oscar says. Carlos had gotten one for him too. “I didn’t think you believed in these things.”

“I don’t,” Carlos says quickly, before looking away, like he’s afraid Oscar will laugh at him.

Oscar chews at his lip. He didn’t mean to suggest it was silly. It’s a little unfair for Carlos to think so lowly of him. If they could, this is where they’d walk their separate ways and browse different shops, long enough for the awkward tension to diffuse. Come back refreshed and recharged for more time spent in each other’s company. No such grace, here.

The stream whispers as it flows by the stone-paved path. The wooden house clusters look as if they’re linked, hand to hand, a never-ending line all the way to the top. Everything here’s older than Oscar, older by years and years and years.

“I keep an amulet in my helmet,” Carlos says. His eyes wander around like he’s sightseeing. “I don’t know why I lied.”

“A little belief can’t hurt,” Oscar blurts out, just so Carlos would stop looking so wounded. “That’s what I always say.”

Carlos nudges him. “You never say that.”

Above them, a thousand colorful prayer flags blow gently in the wind. Wooden charms as numerous as the birds adorn the roof of the temple. Wishes for health, prosperity, family. Oscar tries to peek at what Carlos is writing, only for Carlos to shove him away so violently that they both fall over.

Oscar laughs as Carlos strains to keep his charm out of prying reach. No easy task, both of them being joined and all.

May the new year bring surprises and joy. For my family and friends, good health always. For myself—

Oscar wrenches his gaze away. Some things aren’t for anyone else to know.

He watches Carlos hang his charm up carefully. And then Carlos waits, back turned as much as he can, for Oscar to write his own wish. It’s simple. Fast car, many wins. Happiness. Oscar ties his somewhere near Carlos’s. Closes his eyes and listens to them jangle together.

--

For myself, patience.

--

Oscar’s pretty sure he’s dying. He’s pretty sure this is what dying feels like.

“I thought,” he gasps, in between gulps of warm tea that only makes things infinitely worse, “I told her not spicy?”

Carlos is cackling like the unhelpful asshole he is. “This is not spicy.”

When you explore some place new, local recommendations for food are a must. Oscar’s seriously reconsidering Travel Tip 101 when he gets fed hotpot that turns his tongue worryingly numb.

“Well, it is a little spicy,” Carlos concedes. “But nothing I can’t take.”

“Isn’t Spanish food not spicy?”

“It’s not,” Carlos says. “Actually, I wasn’t good at taking spice until after I started driving.” He fans exaggeratedly at Oscar’s overheated mouth, like that could even help an iota. It’s so Carlos it’s endearing. Shit. “I only started putting hot sauce on all my trainer’s meals because everything tasted so bland.”

Oscar coughs, wiping at his leaking nose. “It burns,” he moans.

“There, there,” Carlos says, mock sympathetic. “Don’t cry.”

“Seriously.” Oscar blinks rapidly, is it affecting his eyeballs too? His pulse thuds like the hoofbeat of a runaway horse. “How are you not even sweating?”

Carlos winks at him. “They don’t call me chili for nothing.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Aw,” Carlos says, and finally puts himself to some use by waving down a server, and sweettalking her into bringing a pitcher of iced water over.

Oscar calls first dibs on the shower, claiming the need to wash the spice out of his pores. Carlos rolls his eyes but acquiesces, gallant about it for once. They force themselves not to make it awkward. Pull apart for just long enough to slip their clothes off, eyes everywhere but on each other. Carlos stands outside the curtain as Oscar tries to shampoo and soap himself down in the narrow tub with one hand.

When it's Carlos's turn: “Oh my god,” Oscar says. “Carlos, are you using soap for your hair?”

“I’m trying to be quick,” Carlos says, voice disembodied even though he’s right next to Oscar. Separated by the thinnest sheet of translucent nylon. The shadow of Carlos is unmistakable in the light. The broadness of his shoulders, the tapering of his waist. “So you do not stand outside for forty-five minutes like I did.”

“I didn’t take forty-five minutes!”

Carlos laughs, the cackle now almost familiar. “And how are you knowing I’m using soap? Are you peeking?”

“I hate you,” Oscar says, waits for Carlos to return with a Hard same like they’re in on the same joke. Waits and waits until Carlos emerges from behind the curtain, not fifteen minutes later, lips still sealed together like withholding some secret.

--

As designated shotgunner, with no say in the matter, Carlos is in charge of the GPS and the AUX cord. After the second album of Enrique Iglesias, Oscar relegates him to Captain of Pointing Out Exit Signs Only. Carlos pretends to pout about it, but he reclines his seat, as far back as their joined elbows will allow. Closes his eyes, limbs loose, all relaxed. He looks so good like that, when he’s as easy as easy can be.

Oscar swallows the click in his throat back down.

“I feel bad,” Carlos murmurs, sounding like he’s close to drifting off. “You’re doing all the work.”

“I don’t mind,” Oscar says. He’s getting real good at one-handed maneuvers now. Hah, maybe this will be beneficial on the track. “I hate getting driven. I rather do it myself.”

“Control freak,” Carlos says.

“Yeah,” Oscar admits. “A little bit.”

When Oscar dares to look over at Carlos, there’s a smile curving his lips gently up. They didn’t magically learn how to talk to each other. But it’s a start, trading little morsels of information like passing notes in school.

One of Guanyu’s other suggestions had been Emei Mountain, boasting an altitude of over three-thousand meters and some ridiculous number of stairs.

(Sixty thousand, to be precise. Oscar had opened his mouth to complain, but Guanyu had responded with a report of the monkeys that lived in the mountain. There came that dazed, excited noise from Carlos again, and Oscar knew it was a lost cause.)

Jet-lag’s working in their favour, and they’ve arrived before the tour buses can deposit too many people for them to stomach. Ambitions are dampened when they realize climbing’s harder when surgically joined by some unknown force at the elbow. When Oscar lifts his left leg, his right arm wants to go, which means Carlos’s left arm needs to go, which means Carlos’s right leg needs to lift. They clunk around clumsily for the first chunk of steps, griping and critiquing each other’s technique. The fog rolls in and laps at their ears, and for a while, there’s nothing much to see.

An elderly lady pressures them into an early lunch, and Carlos gives in effortlessly, like always. It ends up being the best thing Oscar’s eaten since coming here. They fight over the last slice of barbecue pork, and Oscar wins, by virtue of being slightly better at using chopsticks.

By the time they’re halfway up, they’ve got climbing down to an art, limbs moving like clockwork around the constriction. Carlos takes advantage of their newfound skill to increase their pace to a march.

“Carlos,” Oscar’s not ashamed to beg. “Please, won’t you stop and look at the monkeys.”

Carlos laughs at him and calls him slow. Because Carlos is crazy, he’s taken off his light sweater even in this weather, and the threadbare white shirt he’s wearing leaves little to imagination. Chest hair, nipples. Oscar looks away before he can be caught staring. The fog’s given way to some amazing views. Rich vegetation, more trees than Oscar’s brain knows what to do with. Beautiful things all around.

Carlos’s face swims into view. “Come on.” The tugging at the elbow doesn’t hurt as much as it did before. “To the top! There are giant golden statues!”

The statues are indeed golden. And they are indeed giant. The largest one weighs six hundred and sixty metric tons, according to the pamphlet. Larger, surely, than the feeling expanding in his lungs.

“Look, Oscar!” Carlos points with their joined arms, all delight.

“Yeah,” Oscar says. Quickened pulse from the strenuous activity, and he wills it to settle. Control freak. “I’m looking.”

--

Designated phone time on the bed is an hour long. Oscar uses it to text his mum, sift through photos from the day. With how close they’re forced to be, it’s hard to get a picture without a body part of Carlos making its way in. Oscar finds he doesn’t quite mind. He’s got one of the cloudless, blue sky, the backdrop for the Leidongping cable car station. Carlos is pointing at something again, his finger situated artistically right in the middle of the lidless eye of the sun.

Guanyu’s the one who got them into this mess, so he probably deserves a photo update. Oscar sends it over WhatsApp and receives an O-M-G!!! in return, along with nine panda emojis.

No pandas, we’re not at Chengdu yet, Oscar types.

Honestly, I’m surprised you even made it this far, Guanyu says.

Wow, thanks

Oscar squints, rereads Guanyu’s message.

Wait, you were the one who gave us this itinerary!

Hahaha, is all Guanyu says, followed by multiple peace sign emojis.

加油!

Oscar has to google translate that, learn that it means to add oil. To go for it. Go for what?

“Teto says he wishes he was here too,” Carlos says sleepily, looking up from his phone.

“Teto’s out of luck,” Oscar says, ignoring the flash of something hot and possessive down his spine.

He plucks Carlos’s phone out of his willing fingers. Reaches over Carlos for the pull chain of the lamp. Beneath him for just a second, Carlos shifts, comfortable, cozy. Oscar gets the ludicrous notion that if he were to collapse down, right now, Carlos’s body would welcome him.

Shit. How long until they come apart?

Click, off go the lights. Meekly, Oscar makes his way back to his designated side of the bed. Carlos mumbles a soft Good night. More intimate than he could ever mean. Oscar mumbles something back, and satisfied, Carlos closes his eyes. He likes sleeping on his side. Coincidences of coincidences, so does Oscar. Carlos falls asleep faster though, and it gives Oscar a lot of time to stare without accusation. Trace the planes and slopes of Carlos’s face before he drifts off himself.

--

At long last. Chengdu panda base.

After jostling with the crowds to watch the pandas tumble around for their food, then tumble around to play, then tumble around to sleep, Oscar turns to Carlos.

“Well?”

“Eh,” Carlos makes a see-saw motion with his hands. “It’s a little anti-climatic.”

Oscar barks out a laugh. A joined body part, three shared showers, thirteen and a half hours in a car together later, and Carlos still surprises him. He really doesn’t do Oscar well on a neurochemical level.

“Isn’t this what you came here for?”

“I thought it was,” Carlos says. It’s no longer only their elbows touching. Now it’s bicep to little pinky, pressed up against each other like puzzle pieces which fit slightly crooked. One long, unbroken line of heat. “I thought—”

Carlos tapers off. Oscar waits.

“Well, it’s the journey that counts, right?”

“Uh huh.”

“They’re very cute, too.”

“Uh huh,” Oscar says. “Pictures or Guanyu’s never going to believe we made it here.”

Oscar takes one of Carlos with a sleeping mama panda in the background. He’s halfway through checking if it’s any good when Carlos grabs the phone.

“Come here,” he says.

It’s not easy arranging themselves together and catching a panda as well, but heck, didn’t they climb sixty-thousand stairs with some careful coordination? Carlos holds out the phone with his right hand, smooshes their cheeks together. The scrap of Carlos’s stubble against his skin—that’s, there’s a new sensation, in every way possible.

“Say panda,” Carlos says.

“Panda,” Oscar says, the same way he would say, Alert, or Danger, or Abort. His cheeks are going to show up pink in the photo. And Carlos will notice and say something completely asinine—

“Hee hee,” Carlos says. “Your eyes are closed, Oscar.”

--

Once they get enough panda souvenirs to shower the grid, the rest of the day passes in the laziest of fashions. They’ve hit their goal now, so there’s no need to rush. Oscar actually bothers to look through Yelp for restaurant options, and after all his hard work, gets yanked by Carlos into some random alleyway with plastic stools to eat hand-pulled noodles.

Meandering like leaves on an easy stream down the folk and culture street, the promise of a hot shower eventually calls to them. Oscar, gentleman that he is, lets Carlos go first.

Oscar stares unblinkingly at a water spot on a tile as Carlos hums and soap himself, as easy and as relaxed as if he weren’t stuck with Oscar listening to the way the water hits his skin. The first time in the shower, when Oscar had unwittingly brushed his hands over his dick, he’d jumped, then stood still for a whole minute, waiting for Carlos to call him out on it. It’d felt forbidden, with Carlos standing not two inches away.

To Carlos’s credit, he doesn’t punch Oscar when the curtain is pulled back, with a force that can only be described as resolution. He only yelps like a little pup, clapping his free hand over his chest, before the hand trails self-consciously down.

“I’ll help you shampoo,” Oscar says. “It’s faster this way.”

“Well,” Carlos says, “if it’s faster.”

They’re staying at the Shang this time, and there’s fancy shampoo smelling like bergamot and orange. Oscar douses Carlos with half a bottle, squeezing too much out by accident. He keeps bumping his hand into Carlos’s while they attempt to scrub. The lather gets into Carlos’s eyes, and Oscar has to try and hide his smile while Carlos whines piteously. It’s not actually faster in any way.

“There, there,” Oscar says, in a similar tone as to when Carlos had observed Oscar leaking copious fluids over hotpot. “Baby.”

Carlos makes a face and pretends to start crying again, and something terribly fond constricts the entirety of Oscar’s ribcage.

Towelling each other dry is a whole new learning curve, just like putting clothes on, and driving one-handed, and climbing stairs. They’re looking at each other this time, too. That’s also new. Huh. Carlos is very, very gentle as he dries the back of Oscar’s ears. The kind of gentle that speaks of someone having done this for him before, resulting in an insistence in getting this right. Oscar gets all warm, even with the water cooling rapidly on his skin.

“Phone time?”

“No need,” Carlos yawns.

It’s Carlos that leans over this time for the light switch, even though Shang’s posh enough to have light switches at both sides for easy access. Carlos hovers over Oscar for a suspended moment, and Oscar sucks in a breath, straining with anticipation. The head pat is unexpected, but enough for now.

Satisfied, Oscar closes his eyes.

--

“Hey!” Carlos exclaims. “Oscar, we’re free!”

“Whuh,” Oscar says blearily. He’ll never acquire Carlos’s habit of waking up at eight.

“Look, look,” Carlos says, all childish delight. He waves his arms in front of Oscar’s face. Both his arms.

“Hey!” Oscar says, shooting up, suddenly awake.

“Yeah!”

“So all we needed was a shower?”

“Oscar,” Carlos says disapprovingly. “It wasn’t just a shower. We wrote this on prayer cards.” Oscar doesn’t point out neither of them wrote this on a prayer card. “We climbed a mountain. We saw pandas!”

“And took a shower,” Oscar says.

Carlos sniffs. “Have it your way.”

“Fine, fine,” Oscar says. It’s too early to be feeling all warm and crumbly, like the center of a freshly baked pie. “It was the journey that counts, yes?”

“Yes,” Carlos nods. “Maybe. Maybe it was something I—we had to learn. In preparation for. For—”

May the new year bring surprises and joy. For myself, patience.

Their hands are no longer joined, but Oscar takes Carlos’s, and presses a quick, dry kiss to the backs of his knuckles. Carlos is so surprised he lets him.

“Ah,” Carlos says, voice trembly and a little hopeful. “What happens now?”

Oscar looks down at their hands. Going through all of this to separate, only to choose to stay touching. There’s something about a journey being full circle, but Oscar doesn’t want to finish that thought for fear of actually transforming into Julia Roberts. And anyway—

“Now we drive back.”

They’re not near done, yet.

[misaerabl]

What's Your Christmas Wish?

Younger ellie X Older Reader

SUMMARY: Life in a small town is simple—until Ellie Williams comes along. At 21, she’s charming, persistent, and entirely too good at testing your resolve. For a year, she’s made her feelings for you abundantly clear, despite your insistence that the age gap is a dealbreaker. But on Christmas Eve, amidst the glow of fairy lights and the warmth of a town gathering, Ellie’s determination might just prove harder to ignore. As snow falls and boundaries blur, you’re left to wonder: is it the holiday magic, or has Ellie been right all along? WARNINGS: age gap, (Ellie is 21, no specific age mentioned but reader is in middle-late twenties), fingering, oral sex, top ellie, bottom reader, she calls you nurse sunshine, beautiful, etc.

December 22.

The warmth of the clinic wraps around you like a blanket as you organize patient files, the occasional Christmas jingle playing faintly from your phone. You’ve always loved this time of year—the crisp snow, the twinkling lights, the quiet hum of a small town preparing for the holidays.

But Ellie, well… Ellie loves to make this time of year something else entirely.

The bell above the door jingles, and you look up to see her strolling in, cheeks pink from the cold, auburn hair peeking out from under a wool hat. She’s carrying a tray of steaming hot cocoa in one hand and a bag of pastries in the other.

“Ellie,” you say with a sigh, knowing exactly what’s coming. “You can’t keep showing up like this.”

“And you can’t keep pretending you don’t like it,” she retorts, setting the tray on the counter. Her grin is nothing short of shameless, the same one that’s been chipping away at your resolve since the day you met her.

“Ellie—”

“Relax. It’s Christmas,” she interrupts, sliding one of the cups toward you. “Consider it my gift to you, Nurse Sunshine.”

You give her a pointed look at the nickname, but she only shrugs, unbothered. This has been her game for the past year: showing up unannounced, delivering food or drinks, and throwing out lines that would’ve worked on someone less resistant. But you know better—or at least, you tell yourself you do.

“You’re a college student,” you remind her for the hundredth time. “Shouldn’t you be out celebrating with people your age?”

She leans on the counter, a playful glint in her eyes. “Maybe. But why would I waste my time with them when I could be here, convincing you to finally say yes to dinner?”

Your laugh escapes before you can stop it. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“Only because you’re worth it,” she shoots back smoothly. Her confidence is infuriatingly endearing, and you have to look away before she notices the faint smile tugging at your lips.

“Ellie, this… whatever you’re doing—it’s not going to happen,” you say, trying to sound firm. “There’s an age gap, and—”

“I’m 21, not 16,” she interjects, rolling her eyes. “You act like I’m some clueless kid.”

“And you act like you don’t understand what I’m saying.”

There’s a beat of silence before she speaks again, softer this time. “I understand. But that doesn’t mean I’m giving up.”

You shake your head, exasperated but oddly touched. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re beautiful,” she says without missing a beat, her grin returning. “But hey, I’ll leave you to your work. Just wanted to drop these off.”

She winks, grabbing her coat and heading for the door. Before she leaves, she pauses, glancing over her shoulder. “Merry Christmas, Beautiful. I’ll see you around.”

The bell jingles as she disappears into the snow, leaving you with a tray of cocoa, a bag of pastries, and a heart that’s just a little too warm for comfort.

Ellie doesn’t make it easy to focus on your work after that. You sip the hot cocoa—it’s perfect, annoyingly so—and glance at the pastries, neatly arranged in their bag like a gift you didn’t ask for but can’t quite refuse.

She’s persistent, you’ll give her that. Every time you think she’ll finally take the hint, she bounces back with another clever line, another charming grin, another gesture that makes your heart waver just enough to frustrate you.

It’s late by the time you leave the clinic, the streets quiet under a blanket of snow. You’re halfway home when you see her again, this time standing by the town’s massive Christmas tree in the square. Strings of colorful lights cast a warm glow on her face as she fiddles with her scarf, pacing like she’s waiting for someone.

You hesitate. Maybe you could slip past unnoticed. But as if sensing your presence, she looks up, and her face lights up in a way that makes escape impossible.

“Hey!” she calls out, jogging over. “Leaving work so late?”

“It’s part of the job,” you reply, pulling your coat tighter against the cold. “What are you doing out here?”

“Waiting for you, apparently,” she says, falling into step beside you. “Thought you might need some company on the way home.”

You roll your eyes. “Ellie, I’m perfectly capable of walking home alone.”

“Sure you are. But where’s the fun in that?”

Her tone is playful, but there’s a sincerity in her eyes that makes your chest tighten. You’ve spent the past year trying to ignore the way she looks at you, the way her words linger in your mind longer than they should. It’s easier to focus on the reasons why this can’t happen than to acknowledge the part of you that wonders, just for a moment, what if?

“Ellie,” you begin, your voice soft but firm. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, waving a hand dismissively. “The age gap, the professionalism, all that. I get it. But, come on, it’s Christmas. Can’t we just… enjoy the moment?”

You stop walking, turning to face her. She looks up at you, her auburn hair catching the light from a nearby lamppost, and for a second, you hate how easy she makes it to forget all the reasons why you’ve been saying no.

“This isn’t fair, you know,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“What’s not fair?” she asks, her tone softer now, almost vulnerable.

“The way you make me feel,” you admit, surprising even yourself. “You’re young, Ellie. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. You don’t need to waste it on someone like me.”

“Someone like you?” she echoes, a hint of disbelief in her voice. “Do you even hear yourself? You’re incredible. And if you think I don’t know what I want, you’re wrong.”

Her words hang in the air, heavy and unyielding. She steps closer, her breath visible in the cold night air.

“I’m not asking for forever,” she says. “I’m just asking for a chance. One chance.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, the weight of her gaze almost too much to bear. You want to say no, to give her the same answer you’ve given a hundred times before. But something about the way she looks at you—like you’re the only person in the world who matters—makes it harder than ever to walk away.

“Ellie…” you start, but the words catch in your throat.

“Just think about it,” she says softly, stepping back. “That’s all I’m asking.”

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, Ellie steps back with a small smirk. “Just think about it,” she repeats softly.

But instead of turning to leave, she takes a step forward, brushing past you and walking ahead toward the direction of your house. She glances back over her shoulder, her hands stuffed into her jacket pockets. “Come on,” she says, tilting her head toward the road. “It’s cold, and I’m not letting you walk home alone.”

You blink, caught off guard by the shift, but she doesn’t give you much choice. The snow crunches under your boots as you follow her, her pace casual but her presence anything but.

“You know,” you say, catching up to her, “I thought you were all about dramatic exits. What happened to leaving me with some cryptic line?”

She grins, her breath visible in the frigid air. “I figured walking you home might make a better impression. Besides, I didn’t feel like saying goodbye yet.”

You sigh, shaking your head, but there’s no denying the warmth in your chest—whether from her words or the fact that she’s still here, you’re not sure. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

“Persistent or charming?” she teases, her tone light. “Be honest.”

“Borderline annoying,” you counter, though the smile tugging at your lips betrays your words.

She laughs, the sound rich and genuine, and for a moment, the world feels a little brighter despite the winter chill. You walk in comfortable silence for a while, the snow falling gently around you, the quiet of the small town wrapping you both in its peaceful embrace.

As you near your house, Ellie slows, falling into step beside you. “I’m serious, though,” she says, her voice softer now. “I get why you’re hesitant, and I respect it. But… I really do like you, [Your Name]. More than just some crush.”

Her words hit you harder than you expect, and you glance at her. She’s looking ahead, her profile illuminated by the glow of a streetlamp. There’s no trace of the usual playfulness in her expression—just sincerity and a hint of vulnerability.

You stop in front of your house, the warm glow of the porch light cutting through the night. Ellie stops too, turning to face you. “I’m not asking for an answer now,” she says. “I just want you to know how I feel. And that I’ll wait… as long as it takes.”

Her words hang in the air, and for a moment, you’re not sure what to say. But the way she looks at you—like you’re the only thing that matters—makes it impossible to dismiss her entirely.

“Thanks for walking me home,” you say finally, your voice quiet.

Ellie nods, her lips quirking into a small smile. “Anytime.”

You unlock the door and step inside, hesitating for just a second. She stays on the porch, hands back in her pockets, a soft smile still lingering on her face.

“Goodnight, Ellie,” you say, your tone gentler than before.

“Goodnight, Beautiful,” she replies, and with one last look, she turns and heads back down the snowy path.

You close the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment. Your heart feels unsteady, caught between logic and the pull of something you’re not sure you can keep ignoring.

And as you glance at the tray of cocoa and the star ornament Ellie left earlier, you can’t help but wonder if maybe—just maybe—she’s right.

December 24, christmas eve

The Anderson house was stunning, wrapped in glowing lights and adorned with wreaths and garlands at every corner. It looked like something out of a holiday movie, with the laughter and chatter of nearly the entire town spilling out into the frosty air. You stepped inside, greeted by the warmth and the unmistakable aroma of mulled wine and fresh pine.

You spotted Jerry Anderson almost immediately, his booming laughter unmistakable as he entertained a group near the fireplace. His daughter, Abby, wasn’t far off, standing tall and commanding attention effortlessly. She waved you over when she saw you, her bright smile as inviting as her father’s hospitality.

"Hey! long time no see,” Abby greeted, her voice warm and confident. She towered over most people in the room, her broad shoulders and easy posture making her presence impossible to miss.

“Abby, hi,” you replied with a smile, grateful to find someone familiar in the crowd. “How’s it going?”

“Busy, as usual,” she said, gesturing for you to join her by the side table laden with appetizers. “But I’ve been home for a couple of weeks now. It’s nice to have some downtime.”

You nodded, picking up a glass of cider as she continued. “What about you? How’s life at the clinic? Still saving lives left and right?”

You chuckled. “Not quite as dramatic as that, but yeah, keeping busy.”

Abby leaned against the table, genuinely interested. “You must have some stories, though. Come on, give me the juiciest one.”

You shook your head with a laugh. “Patient confidentiality, remember? But let’s just say, small towns definitely keep you on your toes.”

The conversation flowed easily from there, diving into topics of medicine and health. As a soldier, Abby had seen her fair share of injuries and medical emergencies, and her insights made the discussion lively and engaging. You found yourself enjoying the back-and-forth, though oblivious to the way her smile lingered a little longer on you or the subtle warmth in her voice.

Across the room, Ellie spotted you. She froze mid-conversation with a group of her friends, her eyes narrowing as they landed on you and Abby. Her jaw clenched when she noticed how close Abby was standing, the way her hand casually rested on the back of your chair as you laughed at something she said.

Ellie’s friend nudged her. “You okay?”

“Hm?” Ellie snapped out of it, forcing a tight smile. “Yeah. Just… thirsty. I’ll be back.”

She excused herself, weaving through the crowd with a cider in hand but no intention of drinking it. Her steps slowed as she approached the area where you and Abby stood, unnoticed by either of you. She leaned against a nearby pillar, her lips pressed into a thin line as she watched Abby lean in closer, her voice dropping slightly as she said something that made you smile.

Ellie’s grip tightened around her cup. She wasn’t sure what was worse—the way Abby looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky or the fact that you didn’t seem to notice.

Ellie lingered by the pillar, her knuckles whitening around the cup as Abby leaned closer, whispering something that made you laugh softly. The sound lit up the room for Ellie, but not in the way it usually did. Tonight, it felt like it was for someone else entirely—and that someone wasn’t her.

Her chest tightened as Abby straightened up, glancing toward an older woman waving her over from across the room. Abby’s face briefly soured before she plastered on a polite smile and turned back to you.

“Looks like my dad’s trying to set me up again,” Abby muttered, her voice low but just loud enough for you to hear.

You raised an eyebrow. “Set you up? With who?”

Abby tilted her head toward a tall, broad-shouldered man standing stiffly near her father. “That guy. He’s a doctor, apparently. Or at least that’s what my dad’s been bragging about all night. Like that’s supposed to impress me.”

You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, the corners of your lips curling upward. “What, not your type?”

Abby smirked, leaning just a little closer. “Not even in the same galaxy as my type. But Dad’s already waving me over, so I guess I can’t avoid it.” She glanced at you, her eyes glinting with humor. “Wish me luck?”

You chuckled. “Good luck, Abby. Don’t be too mean to him.”

She winked before standing up straight and heading toward her father, muttering under her breath as she went.

Ellie saw her chance and took it. She pushed off the pillar and strode toward you, her steps deliberate and purposeful. By the time you noticed her, she was already sliding into the chair Abby had vacated.

“Hey,” Ellie said casually, though her eyes betrayed her tension.

You blinked in surprise. “Ellie? I didn’t even see you there.”

She shrugged, setting her cider down on the table. “You seemed pretty… busy.” The edge in her tone was subtle but enough to make you pause.

You tilted your head at her. “Is something wrong?”

Ellie shook her head quickly, her expression softening slightly. “No, just thought I’d say hi. It’s Christmas Eve, after all.” She leaned back in her chair, her usual confidence returning as she added, “Figured I’d rescue you from whatever overly charming nonsense Abby was throwing your way.”

Your lips quirked up, but you shook your head. “Ellie, we were just talking. It’s not like that.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow. “Not like what?”

You rolled your eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“Sure,” Ellie said with a small smirk, though her eyes lingered on you a moment longer than they should. “Anyway, Merry Christmas, Nurse Sunshine.”

She picked up her cider and raised it slightly in a mock toast. You couldn’t help but smile at her, despite the slight tension still hanging in the air.

The room buzzed with excitement as the countdown to Christmas neared its final moments. People gathered closer together, their faces lit by the warm glow of twinkling lights and the gentle flicker of the fireplace. You stood among the crowd, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you watched the joy radiating around you.

As the countdown hit ten, you glanced up at the ceiling, noticing the delicate greenery of a mistletoe hanging just above you. The realization made you chuckle softly. Of course, Jerry Anderson would have mistletoe.

“Didn’t think I’d find you standing here,” a familiar voice said behind you, warm and teasing.

You turned, already knowing who it was. Ellie stood there, her hands in her jacket pockets, her green eyes glinting with a mixture of mischief and nervousness. Your gaze flickered upward again, realizing with a slight jolt that she was standing directly beneath the mistletoe with you.

Ellie followed your line of sight, and her smirk widened. “Well, would you look at that?” she said, her tone light, but there was a softness in her eyes that made your heart skip. “Guess this is what they call fate, huh?”

You laughed softly, trying to deflect the weight of the moment. “I think it’s just poorly placed holiday decor.”

Ellie took a small step closer, her expression more serious now, though the smile still lingered on her lips. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s exactly where it’s supposed to be.”

The countdown reached five, and the crowd’s cheers grew louder around you, but it all seemed to fade as Ellie’s gaze locked with yours.

“Four…”

You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but no words came.

“Three…”

Ellie tilted her head slightly, the playful confidence giving way to something more vulnerable.

“Two…”

Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

“One…”

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t.

And then Ellie closed the distance, her lips brushing yours in a kiss that was soft, tentative, and full of all the things she’d been holding back for a year.

The room erupted into cheers and laughter, but for a moment, it was just the two of you, standing beneath the mistletoe as the world blurred around you.

Ellie pulled away slowly, her breath mingling with yours in the quiet space that lingered between the two of you. Her eyes searched yours, soft and vulnerable, the playful spark now gone. The weight of the moment hung heavy, and you could feel your heart racing in your chest, a steady beat that seemed to echo in the air around you.

The world outside the bubble you shared felt far away. The warm glow of the lights, the hum of voices and laughter, all faded into a distant memory. It was just the two of you, standing beneath the mistletoe, and the silence between you was as intimate as any words could be.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Ellie whispered, her voice barely audible above the sounds of the room, but to you, it was the only sound that mattered.

You swallowed, your mind spinning with emotions you hadn’t allowed yourself to fully feel. “Ellie…”

She smiled, her fingers brushing against yours, tentative yet familiar. “I know. I know it’s been complicated. But tonight… I couldn’t let it pass by without telling you. Without showing you.”

Your chest tightened, a mixture of emotions flooding your veins. It was like a slow-burning fire, growing warmer with every second that passed. The tension that had been building for so long finally cracked, and in its place was something softer, something fragile, yet full of promise.

"You've never stopped making me feel..." you began, the words coming unbidden. "Like maybe you were right all along."

Ellie’s eyes softened, as if hearing the truth she'd always known. She took a small step back, the tip of her nose grazing yours as she let out a breathless laugh. "I was hoping you'd say that."

The clock struck midnight, and the room burst into applause, but neither of you moved. The world outside was celebrating, but here, beneath the mistletoe, it felt like time had stopped. A single moment that would be etched into your memory, like the twinkling lights above, a reminder that sometimes, love finds its way through the smallest of things.

Ellie’s hand slipped into yours, the simple contact grounding you, pulling you back into reality as her smile softened. “I meant it, you know. I’ve been waiting for you. Just… let me wait a little longer.”

And in that quiet exchange, amidst the noise of the world, you realized that you were no longer standing alone. You were standing with Ellie, beneath the mistletoe, but more than that, you were standing together, and somehow, that made all the difference.

The crisp winter air bit at your skin as you walked side by side with Ellie, the soft crunch of snow beneath your boots the only sound filling the silence. The lights of the town slowly faded behind you, leaving just the glow of the moon and the stars above. Despite the cold, you found yourself warm beside Ellie, the weight of the kiss still lingering between you like a soft, unspoken promise.

Ellie kept her hands stuffed in her jacket pockets, but every now and then, she'd glance at you, her eyes bright, as if she was trying to memorize the way you looked tonight—the way the snow caught in your hair, the way the streetlights cast shadows on your face.

When you reached your doorstep, she paused, her gaze falling to the ground. "I guess this is where I leave you," she said softly, a hint of reluctance in her voice.

You hesitated, the pull of her presence undeniable. The night had been full of quiet, unspoken moments, and you didn’t want it to end just yet. "Ellie..." you began, your voice tentative but sure. "Do you want to come inside for a bit?"

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, you could see the hesitation in her—like she wasn’t sure whether to take that step forward or hold back. But then the corner of her mouth quirked up in that familiar, confident smile, and she nodded.

"I’d like that," she said softly, her voice warm with something that felt both new and familiar.

You stepped aside, letting her in, and as she entered, the warmth of your house seemed to wrap around you both, pushing back the cold of the night. Ellie kicked off her boots by the door and shrugged off her jacket, hanging it on the hook with careful ease.

The soft hum of your house felt soothing, and as you moved into the living room, you gestured toward the couch. "Make yourself comfortable. I’ll grab something to drink."

Ellie settled into the couch with a deep sigh, her eyes glancing around the room. "It’s nice in here," she said, her voice soft, but her gaze was steady, like she was taking in every little detail.

You nodded, making your way to the kitchen. The silence was peaceful, not awkward, just comfortable in the way only a few people could ever manage to make it feel. You returned with two mugs of tea, the steam rising from them like the warmth of the moment you’d shared only an hour before.

You sat down beside her, the space between you smaller than it had ever been before. As you handed her a mug, your fingers brushed lightly against hers, and for a second, the world outside the room felt miles away.

"I’m glad you came inside," you said, your voice softer than you intended, but it felt right.

Ellie smiled, her gaze flickering toward you for a brief moment before it shifted to the mug in her hands. "I’m glad you asked me to." Her voice held something deeper this time—a quiet sincerity that made your chest tighten with a warmth you hadn’t expected.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The soft crackle of the fire in the corner was the only sound, filling the space between you with its comforting rhythm.

But then Ellie broke the silence, her voice just above a whisper. "I don’t know what happens next... but I’m okay with figuring it out, if you are."

You met her gaze then, feeling the weight of everything unsaid between you. You nodded, your heart beating faster now, in a way that felt right, in a way that made everything fall into place.

"Yeah," you said softly, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "I think I’m ready to figure it out."

The quiet between you and Ellie lingered, comfortable and filled with the soft glow of the moment. The warmth of the house, the scent of tea, the flickering light from the fireplace—all of it wrapped around you like a blanket, but nothing compared to the way Ellie’s presence filled the space. It was gentle, but undeniable, like she was the missing piece you didn’t even realize you’d been waiting for.

As you sat there, her eyes kept flicking to you, her lips pressed into a small smile, but there was a tension in her gaze, a quiet intensity. You could feel her wanting to say something, or maybe do something, but the words and actions were both suspended, hanging between the two of you like the very air you breathed.

Then, without warning, Ellie shifted closer. She leaned in, her breath warm against your skin. Her gaze dropped to your lips for a moment, and that subtle movement told you everything you needed to know. The hesitation, the uncertainty, it was all gone. The distance was gone, too. She was right there, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from her body, the softness of her touch that you had learned to crave.

Her lips brushed against yours softly at first, like a question, like an invitation. And this time, there was no hesitation from you. You melted into the kiss, your hands moving instinctively to her face. The moment her lips met yours again, something in you shifted—flooded with warmth, with a deep sense of longing that you hadn’t fully realized you were carrying.

Ellie’s hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer, her body aligning with yours in perfect rhythm. You could feel the way her heartbeat quickened, the way the world outside seemed to fade away entirely. She was the only thing you could focus on, her warmth, the way she made you feel alive, the way she made everything feel right.

Your hands cupped her face, pulling her closer, as the kiss deepened. Every movement between you felt instinctual, raw, like the way the earth moves without thought. Her lips were soft and sure against yours, coaxing and gentle, as if she knew exactly how to make you feel everything without saying a word.

The world around you faded as you both melted into each other, the kiss a slow dance of longing, of closeness. Time lost meaning as the pull between you intensified, and all you could think about was how perfect it felt to be here, with her. Ellie, the girl who had quietly found a way into your heart without you even realizing it, was now pulling you into her world, and for the first time, you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

In that moment, nothing mattered except the feeling of her touch, the warmth of her embrace, and the quiet promise in the way her lips met yours.

Ellie's eyes sparkled with mischief as she gently pushed you back onto the plush couch. Despite the chill outside, the room felt warm and cozy. She crawled on top of you, her body pressing against yours through layers of winter clothing."Mmm, you feel so good," Ellie purred, her lips brushing against your ear. Her hands slid under your sweater, fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

She shifted, straddling your thigh as she captured your lips in a deep, hungry kiss. Her tongue teased yours as her hips began a slow, sensual grind against your leg. Even through your pants, you could feel the heat emanating from her core."God, I want you so badly," Ellie breathed, her voice husky with desire. She tugged at the button of your jeans."Can I touch you? Please?"

"Yeah… You can," you breathed, your body arching into Ellie's touch. 

Ellie's fingers deftly unbuttoned your jeans, sliding the zipper down slowly. She leaned in, her lips brushing against your neck as her hand slipped beneath the waistband of your panties.

"You're so beautiful," Ellie murmured, her fingers gliding through your slick folds."Does this feel good, baby?"

Her thumb found your clit, circling it gently as her other hand pushed your sweater up, exposing your bra. Ellie's eyes darkened with lust as she gazed down at you.

"God, you're beautiful," she whispered, lowering her head to place open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone. "I want to taste every inch of you."

Ellie's fingers continued their sensual exploration, causing waves of pleasure to ripple through your body. Her touch was electric, igniting every nerve ending."You feel amazing," you gasped, your hips rocking against her hand. "Don't stop..."

Ellie's eyes locked with yours, a wicked smile playing on her lips. "Oh, I'm just getting started," she purred. 

Her fingers dipped lower, teasing your entrance before slowly sliding inside. You moaned at the delicious stretch, your inner walls clenching around her digits.

"That's it," Ellie encouraged, her voice husky with desire. "Does that feel okay?"

She began a steady rhythm, her thumb still circling your clit as her fingers curled inside you, hitting that perfect spot. The couch creaked softly beneath you as your body writhed in pleasure.

"Ellie," you whimpered, your hands gripping her shoulders. "Oh god, Ellie..."

Ellie's fingers continued their passionate exploration, her movements becoming more intense as she felt your body responding. She curled her fingers inside you, hitting that perfect spot that made you see stars."Fuck, you’re gorgeous" Ellie groaned, her breath hot against your ear."I love how wet you are for me."

Her thumb pressed harder against your clit, circling it with quick, precise movements. The dual stimulation was overwhelming, pleasure building rapidly in your core.

"I want to taste you," Ellie whispered, her voice dripping with lust. "Can I use my mouth on you?"

Without waiting for an answer, she began kissing her way down your body. Her free hand pushed your sweater up further, exposing your breasts. Ellie's tongue flicked over your nipple through the fabric of your bra, making you gasp."Ellie, please," you whimpered, your hips bucking against her hand.

She grinned wickedly, slowly withdrawing her fingers from your pussy. You whined at the loss, but Ellie quickly shimmied down your body, positioning herself between your legs.

"I've got you," she purred, hooking her fingers into the waistband of your jeans and panties.

Ellie slowly tugged your jeans and panties down, her eyes darkening with desire as she revealed your glistening pussy. She licked her lips, her hot breath teasing your sensitive flesh."God, you’re beautiful," Ellie murmured, her fingers tracing light patterns on your inner thighs."You’re perfect."

Without further preamble, she leaned in, her tongue flattening against your slick folds. You gasped at the sensation, your hips instinctively arching up to meet her mouth. Ellie moaned appreciatively, the vibrations sending shivers through your body.

Her tongue explored every inch of you, alternating between broad strokes and focused flicks against your clit. Your hands tangled in her hair, guiding her movements as pleasure built within you.

"Fuck, Ellie," you whimpered, your thighs trembling. "Feels so good..."

Ellie's response was to redouble her efforts, her lips wrapping around your clit as she sucked gently. Two fingers slid inside you once more, curling to hit that perfect spot as she pleasured you with her mouth.

The dual stimulation was overwhelming.

All the things that had consumed your thoughts—the age gap, the judgment you might face, the whispers in a small town where everyone knew everyone’s business—faded into nothingness. You, a nurse in your late twenties, admired and respected in the community, and Ellie Williams, a 21-year-old college student with ambition and fire in her eyes. For so long, the idea of being with her felt like a risk too great to take.

But now, as you sink into the couch, all of that worry dissolves. Her touch is a balm to your overthinking mind, her presence grounding you in the here and now. Every careful brush of her fingers, every dance of her tongue, reminds you of how alive she makes you feel. And as she continues to lavish you, the world outside ceases to matter. All you can think about is her—Ellie—and how effortlessly she makes all your fears disappear.

She continued her relentless exploration, her free hand gliding up your chest with purpose before squeezing gently, igniting a trail of warmth in its wake. Her tongue, soft yet commanding, danced against you, pulling you deeper into the moment, leaving no room for anything but her.

She doesn’t stop, her fingers pumping inside, her tongue making your pussy feel good, building you up until you finally come undone, breathless and trembling. 

Ellie catches you effortlessly, her hold firm yet gentle, pulling you close against her chest. The glow of the Christmas lights dances across her face as she looks down at you, her eyes soft with adoration.

"God," she murmurs, her fingers brushing through your hair. "You’re so beautiful. You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this."

Her words are a balm, soothing every doubt and fear you’d held onto. “The whole year, you know? I’ve been waiting for you to give me an answer. And you were worth every second.” She presses a kiss to your forehead, her lips warm and lingering.

Her arms wrap around you tighter, pulling you further into her embrace. "This... this is all I wanted for Christmas," she whispers, her voice full of raw honesty. "You’re my Christmas wish come true."

You let out a soft laugh, your chest still heaving as you lean into her warmth. She tilts your chin up, her eyes sparkling with something deeper than desire. "So," she says, a playful smirk tugging at her lips, "what do you say we make this official? A proper date. Just you and me. No hiding, no excuses. What do you think?"

[maskedbyghost]

Hiii I just read your stalker!reader and simon fic it got me hooked. I just wanted to ask if you don’t mind, what if reader was just obsessing simon because reader thought he wouldn’t care and once simon cornered reader they would pull a “I don’t like you anymore” which drives simon crazy

Anyways feel free to ignore this!! It’s just a thought💗💗💗

this idea had me laughing so hard, i just had to write it. the thought of simon losing it over a 'just kidding, i'm over you' moment? priceless. here's my take, hope you enjoy! ❤️

part 1

it wasn’t supposed to end like this: you, pinned to the wall of a supply closet, simon standing way too close, his hands braced on either side of your head, glaring at you through his mask.

you hadn't planned on blurting that of all things. but there it was.

i don’t like you anymore.

the words were still fresh in the air, and if the sudden twitch of simon’s eyebrow meant anything, it had definitely hit a nerve.

“what did you just say?” his voice was quiet, but you could feel goosebumps all over your body.

you crossed your arms over your chest, ignoring the heat crawling up your neck. “you heard me. i’m over it. totally done. moving on.”

for a moment, the closet fell silent—save for the faint hum of the overhead light. then, simon tilted his head slightly, his body still leaning uncomfortably close.

“so… after all that—bumping into me after missions, conveniently forgetting your jacket in my gear, death-glaring half the team for talking to me—you’re suddenly done?”

“yup.” you nodded, refusing to let the panic slip through. “done like burnt toast.”

simon blinked.

“burnt toast,” he repeated, voice utterly deadpan.

“well, yeah.” you said. “toast burns, it’s done, right? i’m the toast in this scenario.”

something like sheer confusion flashed in his eyes. he stepped closer, closing the gap.

“you’re lying.”

“i’m not!”

“uh-huh.” his sarcasm was evident even behind the mask. he crossed his arms, looking almost annoyed now. “so you just ‘got bored’ of stalking me one day? that’s your story?”

“i wasn’t stalking you,” you huffed.

simon raised a single finger in rebuttal. “you memorized my coffee order and put it on my desk unprompted four times this week.”

“you drink black coffee!” you exclaimed. “that’s not stalking—it’s paying attention. for example: you’re six feet tall, brooding, and you skip breakfast unless someone makes you coffee!”

“sure, sherlock,” he muttered.

your face heated, but you doubled down. “well, it doesn’t matter because i. don’t. care. about. you.” you punctuated the words dramatically, pointing a finger on his chest.

simon simply tilted his head again, staring at you like you suddenly grew three heads. finally, he sighed.

“fine.” he shrugged casually, stepping back just enough to pull his gloves tighter. “you’re not into me anymore? that’s great. guess i can start chatting up jessica. she’s been awfully nice lately—”

“like hell you will! the woman who puts ketchup on scrambled eggs? sir, i thought you had standards.”

“so you’ve been keeping tabs on her now, too?”

“…no! i just noticed! once!”

his gaze was practically sparkling with smug victory. “thought you didn’t care anymore.”

“i—” you faltered, realizing you’d just obliterated your own argument. “i don’t! i was just… hypothetically!”

simon snorted, the sound far too smug for your liking. “you’re terrible at this, love.”

you glared up at him, your dignity hanging by a thread. “you’re impossible.”

“maybe.” he took a step closer, his broad frame crowding you once more. “but i think we both know who the liar is here.”

you groaned, slapping your palms over your face, earning a low chuckle from him.

“burnt toast,” he repeated, still chuckling as he stepped aside, giving you just enough space to escape the supply closet and your embarrassment. “you’re something else, love.”

and from the teasing sound of his voice, it was very clear simon wasn’t letting this go anytime soon.

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

@daydreamerwoah @blackhawkfanatic @consciouscarrot

[rhiannonsknife]

perhaps a scenario where jackie is so overwhelmed by her loneliness on a particularly bad night that she seeks us out for once.

maybe it’s the first time she’s came to us for more than just sex. she just needs a break from the world and the only one she feels that understands is us, no matter how much she wants to pretend we don’t.

she doesn’t go too deep into her feelings because jackie taylor would rather die than be honest about herself, but we at least get to see a more vulnerable side of her for more than a split second.

(also jackie taylor who yearns to be touched in a way that’s out of love rather than lust. jeff touches her all the time but never in the way she wants! he’s always sexual, always defensive over her, always pushing for more. his touch feels more violating and constricting than loving.)

- 🦔

hurt/comfort in the secretly hooking up with jackie taylor universe?? can you believe it??

jackie taylor showing up at your door in the middle of the night is not something you’re used to. not like this, anyway. normally, it’s you sneaking into her bedroom after a party, or sneaking out of it again when she has decided that she’s had enough. it’s her waiting in her car at the end of your driveway, the both of you chasing something thrilling, that neither of you should be doing at all.

tonight is different.

tonight, when jackie knocks, it is soft, hesitant. when you open the door, she stands before you in an oversized sweatshirt that doesn’t belong to her, with her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

her makeup is smeared, and her usual perfectly curated image is cracked.

“jackie?” you say, your voice still groggy from the sleep she’s interrupted. “what are you doing here?”

she doesn’t answer immediately, her eyes darting past you like she’s scanning the hall for someone watching. when she finally meets your gaze again, she asks: “can i come in?”

you step aside without hesitation, closing the door behind jackie as she moves past you. she doesn’t take a seat, doesn’t remove her shoes. instead, she lingers awkwardly in the middle of the room, fidgeting with the sleeve of her sweatshirt.

“i just-“ jackie stops herself, biting her lip like she’s regretting coming here out of all places. “i needed to get out of there”

“out of where?”

“the house. away from jeff. from everyone. it’s just…too much”

you take a careful step closer. “jackie, what’s going on?”

her jaw tightens, and she looks away, her chin trembling slightly. “it’s nothing, okay?” she says quickly. “i don’t know why i came here!”

you do know why. even if she won’t say it, even if she’ll fight it with all that she’s got. jackie has always been good at wearing masks, at pretending she’s got it all figured out. tonight, she’s raw, exposed in a way she probably hates. and instead of running to jeff or shauna, she came to you.

“jackie,” you say again, taking another step closer. “you don’t have to explain. just…sit down, okay? you don’t have to be anywhere else right now”

she hesitates, still not looking at you, but eventually she sits on the edge of your couch, her posture stiff, like she doesn’t know how to let herself relax. you sit beside her, careful to give her space but close enough that she can feel you there.

for a while, neither of you speaks.

then, slowly, as you give jackie the time she needed, her shoulders slump, the tension seeping out of her frame. she leans back against the couch, her head falling to rest on your shoulder. when you move your hand to hers, gently lacing your fingers together, she doesn’t pull away. jackie exhales a shaky breath, her thumb brushing against yours in slow circles.

“you’re different,” she murmurs after a while. “you don’t…want anything from me”

“what do you mean?”

jackie closes her eyes, her face pinched like she’s warring with herself. “with jeff, with…everyone, it’s always about them. what i can give them. what they need me to be…” her voice cracks, and she pulls her hand away, gripping her knees instead. “with you…it’s different. you don’t push. you just-“ she stops, shaking her head as if saying any more might break her.

you reach out again, resting a hand gently on her knee. “jackie,” you say softly. “you don’t have to be anything for me. i just…i want you to feel okay. that’s all.”

“do you mean that?” she asks quietly.

“of course i do,” you tell her, your voice steady. ypu won’t let this chance to prove yourself to her slide. “you don’t have to pretend with me, jackie. not tonight”

or ever, you want to say, but you don’t want to scare jackie off.

her breathing hitches anyway. she doesn’t cry, not yet, but you can tell she’s close to the edge of a breakdown she’s too proud to let you see.

she avoids your gaze as she tries to keep it together. “this is so stupid,” she mutters, her voice barely above a whisper. “i’m fine, okay? just- just forget it”

you couldn’t ‘forget it’ if you tried.

“come here,” you say gently, brushing your thumb over her knuckles.

jackie hesitates, her brows knitting together. “what?”

“come here,” you repeat, softer this time, tugging her hand lightly. “let’s just…lay down for a bit. you don’t have to talk. just let me hold you, okay?”

her face twists, expression caught somewhere between defiance and embarrassment. “i don’t need-“ jackie stops, swallowing hard.

“you don’t have to need it,” you tell her, your voice steady but warm. “just let me do it anyway”

there’s a long pause where jackie seems to weigh her options. then, finally, she exhales, a shaky, broken sound that makes your chest ache. she doesn’t say anything as she nods, just barely, but it’s enough for you to guide her gently to the couch, lying down first and opening your arms for her.

for a second, she lays unmoving before she curls into your side, her head resting against your chest. as you run a soothing hand down her back, the tension slowly begins to ebb away.

“this is…” jackie starts, her voice muffled against your shirt. she trails off, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve. “i don’t know how to do this,” she admits after a moment, so quietly you almost don’t hear her.

“do what?” you ask softly, your fingers tracing gentle patterns on her shoulder blade.

“this,” she repeats, gesturing vaguely. “just…being close to someone like this. without it meaning something else”

it’s not hard to imagine what she means; jeff, with his hands always possessive, always wanting more. people who only ever see her as a trophy, as something to take rather than someone to cherish. time and time again, the fact that you could be somebody to do better for her has broken you. now, for the first time, a part of her had known that. the part that made her show up to your doorstep in the middle of the night.

“you’re doing fine,” you tell her, pressing a light kiss to the crown of her head.

as the minutes pass, jackie’s breathing evens out, the rise and fall of her chest syncing with your own. you keep your arms around her, your hand stroking her back in a steady rhythm until your hand grows too heavy to move it, until your lashes flutter shut. the quiet comfort of her warmth against you lulls you into a sleep you didn’t even realize you needed. the first sleep with jackie to your chest.

when you wake up, the sunlight is streaming softly through the curtains. you blink groggily, your fingers searching for the warmth of jackie’s body on the couch cushion by your side. that’s when you realize she’s gone.

the space beside you on the couch is empty, but the blanket draped over your shoulders wasn’t there before. you sit up slowly, the ache of disappointment impossible to ignore, but then your eyes catch something on the coffee table.

a note.

it’s written on the back of an old receipt, the ink smudged slightly at the edges, but the handwriting unmistakably jackie’s.

i’m sorry i left early. i didn’t want to wake you. thanks for last night. for everything. - j

at the bottom, there’s a tiny heart drawn hastily next to her initials. it’s small, almost insignificant, but it makes your chest ache in the way only jackie taylor ever could.

it’s not a grand gesture or a declaration of love. it’s subtle, restrained. so jackie. still, it’s enough. it’s a reminder that even if she keeps running, even if she never fully lets you in, she sees you. jackie needs you, in her own way, even if she’s too scared to say it outright.

you set the note down gently, brushing your fingers over the paper. for one fleeting night, she let herself be real with you. for one night, she couldn’t hide how much she wants to be loved.

the hope that maybe, one of these nights, she’ll stop running altogether, is exactly why you stay.

[l0v3r666]

YOU BACK :D!

Hopeless in love Ace and Deuce, but both are in love with MC. I can already imagine the disaster that would be.

wait isn’t this what the game is about??

Hopeless!Adeuce is insufferable with their crushes- but the thing is Ace knows Deuce likes you (and vice versa) but neither of them are aware of their OWN feelings,, they’re much too preoccupied with the icky sensation of seeing you with someone else, (100x worse if it’s not either of them) it’s excused that he’s feeling that way because he covets your friendship and doesn’t want to lose you. But when they do realize their feelings that’s when it gets real.

Hopeless!Deuce loves you loyally. He wants a life with you after he achieves his goals, and definitely thinks you’d suit a neat suburban life (maybe with a couple kids?). But he’s way too scared to admit it :( what’s he supposed to do if you reject him? All the class time he’s spent thinking about you would be wasted!!

Hopeless!Deuce thinks Ace is a total sleaze. Sure they might be friends (maybe), but that doesn’t mean he deserves to have you! Deuce would much rather protect your peace than lose to Ace, and it’s only a little awkward when Deuce shows up at your dorm even though Ace insists on hanging out alone. Deuce is only second to Grim when blocking your love life, and neither of them are very good at it <3

Hopeless!Ace doesn’t even chance thinking of life after school. Why’d he trash brain power on something that cheesey when he’s just looking for a little fun? He may want you to watch his games and give him good luck kisses, but it’s not like he LOVES you. Maybe just.. advanced liking.

Hopeless!Ace gets downright devious with how he sabotages Deuce, to the point that nothing is off the table anymore. From hiding important assignments to turning off his alarm- he’s evil about it, and so annoying. That’s what tips Deuce off that he has competition.

Hopeless!Adeuce can’t do anything right without their favourite prefect, so show them how it’s done! Alternatively, you do have pick of the litter and some of the other freshmen’ll cause less headache.. Please let them show you the “loveable scamp” is worth sticking around for!

[rayshippouuchiha]

The Lone Wolf Dies

End-Class Princess: the Other Assassin

In which Takeshi looses the plot, Kurokawa Hana ends up dragging him along with it anyway, and a dog starts to revert to a wolf.

—

The first day of middle school, Takeshi hears some classmates sniggering about a prank they played on Sawada-Chan. They seem so pleased with themselves, at the reaction that Hibari-Senpai will have when she makes it to school tomorrow. Takeshi frowns slightly. Sawada-Chan is nice. She didn’t deserve that. He resolved to try and be extra nice to her when she came back.

—

Takeshi is restless. Sawada-Chan hasn’t been at school all week. They’d had a test already, and everyone had laughed about his low scores, saying that at least he had baseball. It stung worse than usual, turning his head slightly and not seeing a distressed pair of brown eyes and wringing hands. He hadn’t realized that he kept an eye out for her, or noticed that she worried about his grades. It’s been a week, surely she’s not sick? Hibari-Senpai has been rougher than usual too.

—

It’s a month into the new school year, and it feels like he’s the only one who’s noticed that Sawada-Chan hasn’t shown up. Everyone else seems to be forgetting about her altogether, except Kurokawa-San. She occasionally glances at a particular empty desk and frowns.

—

Takeshi squints his eyes shut to hide his irritation, flashing a toothy grin. To be honest, it feels more like he’s baring his teeth. The baseball team is getting on his nerves. Before, he’d been able to work it out on the diamond, the sheer physicality and camaraderie of the team pulling together soothing him. But as the weeks drag on, it works less and less. The team favors him as a star player, but they seem to be pulling less of their own weight.

He tells himself he’s just being overly sensitive. This year has just been unusually stressful. Once he adjusts to middle school, it’ll get better.

(He glances at an empty desk, than away. He accidentally locks eyes with Kurokawa-San doing the same. Maybe he should see if she wants to talk.)

—-

Kurokawa-San seems to be the only other person who’s noticed that Sawada-Chan hasn’t been to school once. Even Sasagawa-Chan just brushes it off with a vague, “who? Oh, Dame-Tsuna! Do you think she had to go to another school for extra tutoring?” She’s nice about it, at least.

Kurokawa-San is surprised when he points out no one has seen her in town either.

“I didn’t think you paid her that much attention,” she stated. “Huh. I suppose even a monkey like you can tell what would happen if you asked her out.”

It’s not that. It’s just. He didn’t realize how much the glimpses of her had settled him down before. Right now it just feels someone is rubbing sandpaper on the inside of his skin. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling, it always happens over the summer. Usually it goes away when school starts up and he can play baseball. But baseball isn’t working like it usually does. Sawada-chan’s mysterious disappearance gives him something to focus on so he doesn’t use his bat like a shinai and makes the second string players run faster.

His dad would be upset if he did that.

—-

Takeshi realizes intellectually that he should be proud to be playing an away game in his first year of middle school, even with his less than stellar grades. He’s more distracted by imaging all the ways he could really hurt people. Kurokawa is helping, a little, ever since she noticed his struggle to keep his smile up.

“Stop pushing yourself around me, like some sort of stupid monkey,” she said bluntly. “I know you’re a wolf, try not to go rabid.”

He’s pretty sure people are starting to think they’re dating, the way he seeks her out. She mostly doesn’t care, and uses it as an excuse to get away with physically grounding him. The desperate rasping inside him is growing worse.

If this keeps up, they’re both worried he’s going to kill someone. And not even Hibari-senpai is paying enough attention to notice.

(She would have.)

—-

Takeshi whips his head around as they’re escorted to the sports field. Had that been, Sawada-Chan? What would she be doing here?

—

After the game, the coach lets them wander around the market a bit, as a reward for winning. Takeshi takes him up on it, managing to shed the usual hangers-on that he has after a game. The sandpaper and chisels that have been steadily working away inside his skin are joined by anxious jangling bells. He can’t figure out what’s wrong with him.

“Yamamoto-kun?” A familiar voice rings out, puzzled.

He turns and the bells go silent, the chisels drop away from his bones, and the sandpaper pauses. Sawada-Chan is staring at him, pale amber eyes meeting his properly for once, a cloth bag slung over her shoulder. Takeshi beams at her. Oh. So this is why Kurokawa called him a wolf.

“Sawada-Chan! How have you been? Kurokawa and I have missed you,” he comes up to talk to her without hesitation. He’s almost dizzy as whatever has been clawing at him finally quiets down.

—

Eventually, he manages to convince her invite him back her place. She leads him to an apartment, tossing him concerned looks from the corner of her eye. Takeshi feels something in him preen in pleasure. He’d never noticed her do that before, but the feeling is very familiar. She has worried about him, and not because of his baseball skills.

She looks good, her shoulders held back and her gaze steady. He had never noticed her eyes were so light before, almost the same shade as fossilized amber. She’d always had her head down before. Takeshi likes it.

“I texted Rika-Chan, she said it was alright to lend you her slippers,” Sawada-Chan pulled out a pair of guest shoes for him.

They were still a little stiff, but he was too distracted by how many pairs of shoes were tidily tucked into the shelves of cubbies by the door. While she’d been gone, she’d become close enough to a lot of people, close enough to have guest slippers. He ruthlessly suppressed the urge to mess them up. What if she got mad at him and threw him out? He wasn’t ready to face the noise yet.

—

Her apartment was small, but cozy. There was a beat up old kotatsu where she was putting some tea for him, and a faded couch. There were little touches everywhere that called to mind comfort. (He liked the amateur ink painting of a puppy of some kind, tripping over its paws chasing a ball.) Takeshi was seized by the desire to roll around the whole place and never leave. A plate of dumplings, lopsided and mismatched, found themselves next to the tea.

—

Eventually, he has to go, but he managed to spend several hours talking to Sawada-Chan. She’s bolder than she used to be, but still doesn’t say much. Takeshi is pleased with himself when he manages to get her to forget to be wary and snark back at him. She even let him take a nap on her couch while she did homework leaning against it.

No wonder she’s in Kunugigaoka now. He doesn’t even know where to start, and she’s flying through the worksheets.

—-

There’s a slim hand nudging his shoulder. It’s not Kurokawa, and it’s not his otusan. His hand snaps up, snake quick, to latch onto the wrist. He misses. It’s so unusual, that he actually pauses before remembering where he was.

“Oh, sorry, Sawada-Chan!” He grins desperately. “I didn’t recognize you!” Please don’t send him away. He doesn’t want to have her shrink away from him again. He doesn’t know what he’d do if she flinched from him. Kurokawa is getting better at genuinely not flinching, even when she gets cut by the edges he can’t hide anymore.

“It’s fine,” he almost collapses as she waves it off. “But the buses are going to stop running for the night, your otousan has already called you.”

—

He gets her number before he lets himself be ushered out the door, nearly running into her neighbor who eyes him suspiciously. Not even Takeshi’s best sheepish grin erases the unfriendly look in the man’s eyes. It, probably didn’t help that he was disheveled, and still smelled a bit sweaty from the baseball game earlier. It didn’t look good, a teenage boy walking out of girl’s apartment looking like that.

Takeshi avoided his gaze and hurried to the bus depot. His otousan had been pleased that the reason he’d gone missing was running into a friend and loosing track of time, and not something, else. But he’s heard the warning to make it back tonight, and so had Sawada-Chan. She’d all but thrown him out the door, tugging on a worn pair of running shoes to lead him to the bus depot in time to catch the last bus to Namimori.

As the bus tumbled into the night, he wonders when he can make time to come back again, and how many times it will take before his shoes have a space in her entrance.

[numberonetacostan]

ONE HEADCANON FOR EVERY II CHARACTER!

Hello everyone!!!!!^^ For a little holiday season special, I’ve typed out a little headcanon for every character!!! By character I mean contestants + host + assistants!!!!! Sorry to all the Nick Le fans out there, he is not included. Since everyone is here, there are characters I may not know as well as my main roster, so if I get anything like, objectively wrong, feel free to let me know!!!^^ Please enjoy!!! (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ

Apple- Her favorite song is Pink Pony Club by Chappell Roan. She doesn’t really understand the lyrics but she really likes ponies!!!! I also think she’d start misspelling her name as “Appell” pretty often after she finds the song. 

Balloon- The first thing Suitcase does with her prize money is buy him a poetry book. He is so very moved by this and writes her dozens of poems with various styles he sees in the book within a few days. He’d read from the book and his own works to Suitcase every night before they go to bed. Some others could join in for a nice bedtime story :). 

Baseball- Once, while the hotel was under construction, Baseball fell down the stairs. And then kept rolling. And rolling. And bouncing. And rolling some more. Overall it set construction back two weeks and Paintbrush broke their leg trying to help stop him. Baseball was banned from the hotel until the elevators were finished. 

Bomb- He can’t eat spicy food. As in he’s banned from eating spicy food. If he gets too hot, he can accidentally set himself off, so despite his claim that he has a great spice tolerance, he is not allowed anywhere near the hot sauce. He doesn’t complain about the ban anymore post-canon, too risky, yeah? 

Bow- She watches so very many makeup tutorials, but being a ghost, can’t practice any of it on herself. That is, unless she possesses someone, like Marsh who would be very easy to put makeup on relative to other objects!!! She’d probably get pretty good at it, after some time, and Marsh would have some lovely new eyeshadow looks every day! 

Knife- He has a longer ghost tail than Dough and Bow do, so I propose him wrapping said tail around people and things he likes!!! Wraps around Pickle when they’re standing next to each other, wraps around Suitcase’s handle when they’re together, etc.!!! He’d get rather flustered if anyone called him out on it. 

Lightbulb- Gives incredible hugs. Incredible. How does an object made of glass and metal give such cuddly, warm hugs? Nobody knows. Sometimes she’ll turn herself on during the hug to make it extra warm!! As long as the person she’s hugging closes their eyes, it really elevates the already sacred experience of a Lightbulb hug. Luckily for everyone else, she is always happy to give one!^^

Marshmallow- She’s still pyrophobic after having been burnt all those years ago. As a very flammable marshmallow, fire would be scary to her anyways, but after having been roasted it’s a whole other story. She’d rather freeze than get close to a fire, but that’s not a problem since there’s a certain fruit always willing to warm her up with a hug <3!!

Nickel- He became very, very, very nervous to give his apology to Suitcase after she blew up Cobs and ate his corpse. He was planning to apologize either way, but clearly Suitcase could absolutely obliterate him if she wanted to do so, which means this apology has to be quite good or else. He has a serious amount of respect for her now. An upgrade, I’d say. 

OJ- His favorite Pokémon is Charizard. It’s orange, it’s very popular, OJ loves it. I know Justin has made a list of the contestant’s favorite Pokemon, but I have not read it in a while so Charizard it is!!!

Paintbrush- Experiments a lot with their image after season 3, mostly by dyeing their bristles with paint!!! Lightbulb helps :3!!! And by helps I mean makes it silly and very fun. Maybe she puts a little dot between Painty’s eyes to give them a “nose”. I think they’d try a solid color first, then maybe a fade, and eventually dye the nonbinary flag into their hair!!! They slay it of course. 

Paper- Pickle once wrote “Property of OJ” on Paper’s back and he didn’t notice for three days. No one told him it was there. When he asked everyone why in the world they would not inform him they said it was because they all thought OJ had written it and he was keeping it because he liked it. OJ did not know why Paper avoided eye contact with him for a week that one time but he did not like it. 

Pepper- Hotel OJ head chef. Yeah you heard me. Let me cook by letting her cook!! Salt wouldn’t like cooking, too much work, so this is something Pepper could enjoy on her own!! And it would be the sole reason that OJ has not yet kicked Salt out of the hotel- if he does than Pepper might be too sad to cook, and with the depressingly low amount of hotel residents that can make food, and the even smaller amount who are willing to make enough food for everyone, they need her. And, if Payjay help out, they can spend more time with her and get to know and enjoy her presence without Salt ruining it!

Pickle- With some help from Tea Kettle and Pepper, he makes Knife a new Dora doll post-finale, since it vanished with the rest of the stuff made by MeLife. He lets Knife possess him if he wants to hug the doll, but it also gets possessed by Knife so he can hug Pickle. Ah shit sorry my Knickle got all over the headcanon dang it. 

Salt- I headcanon her as the only cisgender, straight, alloromantic (I think that’s the right term?) member of the cast. Basically the only one who isn’t queer at all. But uh an actual headcanon for the ~60 or so Salt fans out there, both she and Pepper sleep with those little hair bonnets on to keep their salt and pepper from falling out of their heads in their sleep. 

Taco- This one is fitting for the winter season!! Taco is afraid of snow. Like, straight up terrified. I think she would grab a bunch of blankets and hide in the vents of the mansion whenever it snows, so she can be inside of the inside, as far and safe from the snow as she can be!! Having been homeless for years, she’s had some miserable experiences with hypothermia after it snows, and now that she has a home to live in, she’ll be staying inside until all the snow has melted. 

Mephone- I think he should have a pet bug post-canon. A little beetle or something that just chills on his head and feasts on the many crumbs he gets on himself while he eats. An intelligent one, like Baxter!!! Since we know Mephone will be stepping up into the more ‘big brother’ sort of role for 3GS, I think the bug would be a good outlet for Mephone to talk about his more intense feelings, specifically revolving around Mepad and the contestants. I also think, following his very creative naming of the contestants, the bug would be named Buggy. 

Box- I think she would be an insomniac. After years and years of living in an empty, timeless void-space thing, she’d have a lot of trouble getting to sleep!! She’d definitely need the whole works, warm milk, cheese, lullabies, etc., etc., just to get to sleep, and even then she probably wouldn’t sleep for very long. A lot of nightmares on this one, yeah? 

Cheesy- I think he’d actually quite enjoy eating cheese, as long as it’s not a chunk like he is. He’ll eat nachos, pizza, mozzarella sticks, grilled cheese, etc., etc., but he will not eat cheese cubes. He’d make approximately 5 cannibal jokes every time he does this, and this average goes up to 8 if Pickle is around. 

Cherries- They give Toilet their old Mepad mask post-canon, to try and make him feel better. Toilet might hang out with them a bit more after this- they can do some drawing together!! The more prank-buddies, the merrier, yeah? 

Dough- He eventually did get the recording of Bow saying that he was her brother!! Was it a cut-off version of her denying it yet again (though this time more playfully than anything)? Yes. Does that make him any less happy about having it? No. 

Fan- Out of everyone, he’s the most upset about II ending, and wants to find a new special interest!! He’d try a whole bunch of things, games, music, movies, TV shows, art, and I think it would be funny if he settled on the ii-universe equivalent of Survivor, since it was such a big inspiration for II!! He’d also occupy himself with being very interested in whatever Test Tube is doing and cheering her on!!! Also being a good Dad to Bot!!^^

Microphone- Has, on occasion, accidentally had her volume button pressed in her sleep and woke not only herself but everyone in the vicinity up with her snoring. The first time it happens post-canon it takes her a half-hour to get a very startled and scared but very sleepy and confused Taco to come out from her hiding spot under the bed. 

Soap- Her soap is french vanilla and rose scented!!! She’d find her own scent rather pleasant, yeah? I think being empty for her would have a similar effect on her as it does on objects like OJ and Test Tube, though if she’s in a real pinch she will use her own soap to get clean!! Letting someone use her soap would be a sweet gesture of love/appreciation from her!!!

Suitcase- Balloon would write her a lot of poems once they’re back together post-canon, and she’d keep them all inside of her!! She’d keep a lot of special little gifts from important people inside of her. The stone that Knife set beside her the first time they spoke on the docks, a dried flower bracelet from Box, whatever suits her fancy! (Get it? Ge- ‘cause she’s a suitcase? okay ill leave).

Test Tube- I think she would make phones for everyone post-canon!!!^^ It’s a big island, yeah? And they really need to be able to contact each other in case of emergency, with them being able to truly die now. She could make a functioning rocket out of a vending machine, I fully believe she could make however-many functioning phones out of what she can find on the island. (Or even better, Mepple HQ. I think they all should loot it.)

Tissues- He likes coding :) I personally hate coding, because I sucked at it in school and never want to look at one of those evil “easy kids coding” websites ever again. HOWEVER coding is something he could still do while he’s feeling sick, most of the time!! And we have quite a few gamers living in the hotel, so it would be a great way for him to connect with others!!!

Trophy- He always enjoyed photography as a hobby, but very much threw himself into it after being freed from the elimination closet. After months of seeing nothing but the snotty closet walls, he had a lot more appreciation for scenic and natural photographs. He’d hang a lot of them on the wall of his room to look at as he sleeps, since the rooms don’t have windows. 

Yin-Yang- This one is from my partner @galacticrain!! Because I consider them my resident yin-yang expert^^ Yang isn’t actually gluten free, like he says in season 2 episode 5, he just knew that Yin would confess to the eating of Dough if he put any ounce of pressure on him to tell the truth. 

Mepad- Another cold weather hc! As a Mepple device, he doesn’t really get cold! However, during their first winter together, Toilet worries that Mepad has no winter clothing!!! He buys Mepad one of those super fluffy, pink cases. Mepad does not take it off for months, until his systems start to overheat because of it. 

Toilet- I think he would be rather curious about what having limbs is like. He wouldn’t be particularly upset about his own lack of limbs, just curious!^^ He would ask Mepad about his legs, (try to) ask Mephone about his arms, and maybe make a little doodle of himself with a lot of limbs. A biblically accurate Toilet, if you will.

Blueberry- I like to think his white eyes glow a bit. He functions best in pitch-black darkness, yeah? So imagine you’re walking in the dark and two white eyes are staring at you from the depths. He would love scaring people with it, I think. 

Bot- Hanging out with everyone post-season 3 finale and even more so post-canon, they discover that they really do love videogames, similar to what they told Cabby!! They would absolutely dominate in fighting games, and would main R.O.B. in Super Smash Bros.!!! A fellow robot with a 3 letter name? Sign them UP. 

Cabby- She is endlessly fascinated by how Taco’s arms work. They just…go back in? How? Could she pull them out backwards? Both on the same side? Could she reverse them? Taco does not know either, and the two of them spend a full day together just trying to figure out how they work. Cabby gets a lot of new info about them, and Taco in general, after that :). I’m projecting but I think Cabby would be curious too.^^

Candle- Her meditation training post-canon is what keeps like half the cast from losing their minds after everything that happens. She is very very much needed after… all that. Meditation would help her too, of course, in the way that it usually does, but being so helpful would probably make her feel better than that. 

Clover- She was once blown across the entire island because someone dropped a penny on the ground. It was a particularly shiny penny, though, and the year was one her many, many lucky numbers!!

Goo- My little fella!!! Uh obviously he and Bot would make comics together. They like to draw, he likes to write, it’s perfect!!!! They could help him condense his writing down into a comic format as well!!! They could also make fanart and fanfics together!!! Goo would be a shipper I think he already ships Silver and Painty if you sit that little guy down in front of Steven Universe he will explode. 

Lifering- With everyone losing their immortality post-canon, he quickly becomes one of the most popular among the contestants. Twisted your ankle? Go see Lifering. Migraine? Go see Lifering. Ate the mushrooms that Taco very clearly told you were poisonous? Hurry to Lifering!! He’s happy to be of so much help, but gives some long and rather informative lectures on proper safety checks. 

Silver Spoon- Fills his room with candles. Particularly purple ones. And ones scented with lavender and chamomile. He’ll go on and on about how much he loves candles. Particularly purple ones scented with lavender and chamomile. No one can tell if Candle is trying to politely turn him down or really hasn’t noticed. He progressively gets more and more obvious with his candle collection and nearly sets a building on fire. 

Tea Kettle- #1 Nickloon shipper. I’m serious. Whether they get together or not, she ships it. I don’t think she’d be pushy about it, insistent that they get together if they’re interested in other people, but… we know silly Nickel, always chasing a Balloon. And if he needs a little help catching it, TK will be there in a flash!!!! She’d make them a little romantic picnic complete with hors d’oeuvres! 

The Floor- My guy The Floor still visits Mephone almost daily post-canon. I really don’t see the guy being super upset or holding a grudge over Mephone having made him. He’s pretty cool, if he does say so himself!!^^ And they’re buddies, anyways, so Floory would want to check in on him after his abusive father killed everyone and then was exploded!!!! He might even befriend 3GS while he’s at it :).

[wilhelminyard]

compilation of nice/sweet things the foxes said to neil because even though they're a bunch of assholes who'll insult anyone in their vicinity they all just love him so damn much (part 1) :

WYMACK :

"if your parents are a problem for you, we'll move you to south carolina early."

"foxes are foxes for a reason and they know we wouldn't sign you if you didn't qualify. that doesn't mean they know specifics. it's not my place to ask and I'm sure as hell not going to tell them."

"it's about second chances, neil. second, third, fourth, whatever, as long as you get at least one more than what anyone else wanted to give you."

"I have never, ever hit someone without provocation and I'm sure as hell not going to start with you. you hear me?"

"I'll take care of this. you take care of you."

"do you have any idea what could have happened to you between here and there? what were you thinking? you should have called me"

"any of us would have come and gotten you"

"it's not your job to take care of yourself anymore. it's your job to play, and mine and abby's job to look after you."

ANDREW :

"oh you might actually turn out to be interesting"

"you be something. kevin says you'll be a champion. four years and you'll go pro. five years and you'll be court."

"curious that a man with so much potential, who has so much fun, who could 'be something' wouldn't want any of it"

"a liar who practices occasional honesty. clever."

"are you going to tell kevin?" "don't ask me stupid questions"

"oh neil, as unpredictable as he is unreal"

"what would it take to make you stay?"

"I'll stand between you and the moriyamas"

"you gave your game to kevin. give your back to me."

KEVIN :

"neil is exactly what the foxes need right now. his inexperience is inconsequential. we went through a hundred files looking for a striker for this year, but neil is the only one we approached. we knew as soon as we saw him we needed to sign him. we're just lucky we got there before anyone else did"

"our primary concern was keeping neil safe"

"*to riko* leave him alone."

MATT :

"are you bleeding anywhere?"

"coach says [neil's] got potential. andrew says you're fast. [...] andrew bets you can outrun everyone on this team."

"seriously are you okay?"

"I'll owe you one" "you won't owe me anything"

"you be careful, okay?"

"I'm fine" "you say that a lot. I'm starting to think you don't know what it means."

"coach says stupid but I say you have balls of steel"

NICKY :

"neil, you clean up good"

"andrew is keeping you, same as he kept kevin. it means you're part of the family now. [...] family means something different with us because it has to. it's not about blood. it's not even about who we like. it's about who andrew's willing to protect."

"that makes you invaluable to andrew"

"you're one of us, which means we'll never push you further than you're willing to go"

DAN :

"are you okay?"

"coach said you hitchhiked your way back here. I'd yell at you for being stupid but coach said he handled that already"

"we didn't let him [in]. he didn't make it further than the front door."

"neil? you don't have to do this, you know"

ALLISON :

"looking fancy"

SETH :

"maybe you're not as stupid as I thought"

AARON :

(I know it surprised me too but it's probably the only compliment he gives neil throughout the entire series and they literally just met at that point)

"at least you're not going to completely drag us down. it'll take most the season to get you where we need you to be but I can see why kevin picked you"

[winchesterwild78]

Merry Christmas, Dean Winchester 

Master List

Characters:  Jensen x Reader, Dean Winchester x OC Wife, Jared, Eric Kripke, Robert Singer, Sam x Eileen 

Warnings: Fluff, Smut!, more fluff

A/N: Final Story in my holiday fics. I hope you’ve enjoyed this short series. I was really excited about it. All work is my own, please don’t take it. Reblogs and likes are welcomed. 

This is a work of FICTION. Jensen is divorced from Danneel. If you don’t like that, then don’t read it. Sorry, but shit happens in life, and this was a story that popped in my head to round out this Christmas Series. 

This one is a combination of Jensen and him stepping back into the role of Dean one last time. I hope you enjoy it. 

Written fast and edited fast, please overlook any errors. 

Minors DNI 18+

Jensen sat in his office on the phone with Eric Kripke and Robert Singer. I knew what the call was about. They wanted him to step back into the role of Dean Winchester one last time. 

Jensen had previously said he wanted to do at least one more season, maybe not 22 episodes, but at least a couple more. 

Jensen had always felt Dean deserved better. I always felt he and Dean deserved better. 

I had been a fan of his and the show well before we got married. After his divorce from Danneel we met and things progressed between us. We got married and I’ve been by his side ever since. 

Jensen came out of the office with a smirk on his face. “What’s so funny?” I asked him as he snaked his arms around my waist. 

“I think we are finally moving forward. I’m going to help write the season and direct a few episodes.” I smiled, turned and put my arms around his neck. 

I kissed his lips, “I’m so happy for you baby. You’re going to do amazing.” 

“Yeah, now we have to see how to get some of our cast back. I’m sure Jared will be on board, not sure how we can write Misha back in, but we will figure it out.” 

“I know the fans are going to go wild.” He nodded. “Yeah. I can’t wait. Eric is planning on dropping hints on Instagram once we get the green light.” 

I smiled because I knew how the fans were going to react. 

I touched his face, “Does that mean you need to practice the “Dean” voice again?” I giggled. Jensen smirked, placed his lips close to mine and in his best Dean Winchester voice he said, “You better believe it sweetheart.” 

Then he walked away. I gasped, “You’re such a tease.” He turned and grinned, crossed the room and grabbed me by the waist and placed his lips on mine. 

I moaned and melted in his arms. Jensen smiled against my lips, “Still got it.” He winked as he pulled away. 

I playfully rolled my eyes, “Jensen Ross, you better get back here and give your wife a proper kiss.” He smirked and walked up to me, grabbed me by my waist and placed his lips softly on mine. His plump lips pressed against mine as his tongue darted out and licked my lips. I parted them and he deepened the kiss. His hands moved to my hair and pulled me further into him. Our tongues moving in tandem with a familiarity. 

When he pulled away our breathing was fast and shallow. My lips were on fire. Jensen rubbed his thumb across his bottom lip, “Damn baby. I’m glad I came back.” “Me too.” 

Over the next few weeks Jensen worked with Eric and Robert to secure cast and writers for the show. Jared was on board and so was Misha. The other cast members were willing to come back for an episode or two, so Jensen worked with the writers to bring people back or figure out some way to make it all make sense. 

The season was going to be 10 episodes long and the final episode was going to be a Christmas episode. The consensus online was Dean and Sam deserved a normal holiday if they got nothing else. Jensen agreed. The decision was made to leave Sam and Eileen together, married and having a son, but the writers and Jensen wanted Dean to survive and have someone too. 

Jensen spent the next few months helping write and rewrite episodes. Then came time for shooting. Off to Toronto we all went. Jensen and I went ahead and found a place big enough for his kids to come. Jared and Gen moved up temporarily with the kids. They still had their place and just found it easier to live there than for Jared to fly back and forth. 

The first day of filming arrived and Jensen was visibly nervous. All the way to set his leg bounced in the car. I placed my hand on his leg, “Hey, you’re going to do great. It’s like riding a bike. Dean is part of you and will always be. You know how to play him, and you’re finally getting to give him the proper send off he deserved.”

Jensen leaned over and kissed me, “Thank you, sweetheart.” I smiled and nodded. 

When we arrived at set Jensen got out of the car and we walked hand in hand to his trailer. 

Hanging in his closet was Dean’s costume and his boots. Jensen smirked and took a deep breath. I touched his arm, “You’ve got this baby. I’ll be here every step of the way.” 

Jensen changed and stepped into the living room and we were transported a few years back. He was Dean Winchester and never looked so good.

He went to get his hair and makeup done while I waited in the trailer. When he came back it was time for him to go to the set. “You ready baby?” I asked and he nodded. 

The first few episodes were great. I couldn’t wait to see how fans reacted to the show. Eric, Jensen and Jared had all dropped hints online and the fans were rabid about it. Not to mention the carefully leaked photos of Jared and Jensen on set in their “Sam and Dean costumes”. 

Eric wanted all the episodes filmed before they were released and we were approaching the final few. The hunt was on for a wife for Dean. The idea was to do a slight time jump and have her and Dean get married with flashes of the wedding during an episode. 

The search for an actress who was believable for Dean was proving difficult on such a short notice. So Eric and Robert cooked up an idea. 

I sat in the trailer reading when there was a knock on the door. Opening it I saw Eric and Robert. “Hey guys. What’s up?” Eric stepped in first, “We have an idea. We want you to play Dean’s wife.” I laughed, “You can’t be serious. I’ve never acted.” “We are serious. You and Jensen have incredible chemistry and that will work well for the show. I’m sure you could do it.” 

“How about I try. If I’m crap we will find someone else.” They were excited and nodded. I was handed a script and told to be in wardrobe in 2 hours. 

I was incredibly nervous. Jensen came in and looked exhausted. He noticed how nervous I was. “Hey, Y/N, what’s wrong baby?” “Um, they found the person to be Dean’s love interest.” 

Jensen looked confused, “Okay, who is she? Why are you so nervous about it?” I took a deep breath, “it’s me.” I said softly. 

Jensen’s smile grew until it reached his eyes. “Really?! I get to act alongside you as my love?” I nodded “I’m not an actress, Jensen. I’m so nervous.” 

He cupped my face, “Baby it’s going to be fine. It will be just like any normal day we’re together. You’ll just have to call me Dean. I see we have a love scene coming up too.” He wiggled his eyebrows, “Now that’s going to be so much fun.” 

I blushed. “Should we run some lines or practice?” “Sure darlin’, let’s go into the bedroom and practice that spicy scene. You know, just so we can get it right.” 

I laughed as he chuckled, taking my hand and he led me to the bedroom. 

We made love over and over again. Each moment made me feel less anxious. 

There was a knock on the door, “Y/N, you’re needed in wardrobe and Jensen you’re needed back on set.” 

We got up and got dressed. He kissed me one last time as I walked to wardrobe and he left for set. 

On set I took my mark. My character was meeting Sam and Dean for the first time. I was Jody’s niece and I came to help her on a case, thus meeting the boys. 

“Okay everyone, you all know Y/N, Jensen’s wife. She’s going to play Dean’s love interest. Alright, places and action!” 

“Hey boys! It’s so good to see you two. It’s been far too long.” Jody hugged Sam and Dean. “You two know almost everyone here, except my niece, Ashley.” I spun around, making eye contact with the boys. Extending my hand, “Hey guys! Nice to finally meet you two. Aunt Jody has talked about the famous Sam and Dean for years.” 

Sam shook my hand and then Dean. We were supposed to look each other in the eyes and pause for a moment, but of course Jensen had to improvise. “Hey sweetheart, you helping us out on this case?” I just ran with the improv, taking his advice to heart. 

“No, I figured I’d just stay here in the kitchen and wait by the door with a drink in hand until you returned.” Laughter ripped through the set. Jensen smirked his famous Dean smirk and I went weak in the knees. 

Dean stepped closer to me, lifted my chin, “Well Ashley, as much as I’d love that I’d much rather have you by my side on the hunt.” “Oh would you now? Dean, tell me something. Does that line ever work?” 

Sam laughed. Jody stepped in “Alright you two, leave the flirting for later. We have a job to do.” 

Before too long the director was calling cut. Everyone congratulated me and told me I was a natural. Jensen walked over, pulled me in a hug and kissed my lips. “Damn baby, you were incredible.” “Oh Jens, I was so nervous. Are you sure I did okay? When you started to improvise I almost lost it.”

“Darlin’, you were great! Come on, let’s get ready to go home. We’ve got some more practicing to do.” I giggled as he pulled me towards the trailer to change. 

The next few days on set were long and grueling. I messed up a couple of times and got so frustrated with myself. Jensen was directing the episode today so it made my nerves worse. I honestly felt like I was going to throw up. 

Jensen sat behind the camera and I was delivering lines to Sam. I fumbled because I was so nervous. “Cut!” Jensen’s voice boomed causing me to jump. 

Jensen walked up to me and took my hand, “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? You seem off.” “I’m just really nervous today and it’s making me nauseous. I’m sorry.” 

Jensen cupped my face and pressed a soft kiss to my lips, “You’re doing great baby. For someone who’s never acted, you’re doing an amazing job.” 

I nodded and took a deep breath, “Okay. I’m ready.” 

We continued shooting and Jensen finally called cut for the last time of the day. I was mentally and physically exhausted. 

Jensen had some things to do before he could leave the set, so I went back to the trailer, took a shower and curled up on the bed. Before too long I had fallen asleep. 

Jensen walked in and saw me asleep on the bed and smiled. He was used to these long shoots. He knew I was not . Slipping out of his boots and down to his boxers he climbed in the bed with me. 

Wrapping his arm around me, I moaned and snuggled closer to his warm body. “Mm, baby should we go home?” I whispered. Jensen tightened his arm around me, “No, let’s just stay here tonight.” I nodded and fell back to sleep. 

The next few months were filled with shoots and reshoots. Long days and early morning calls. Dean and Ashley’s relationship was taking shape on the show and the leaked information seemed to be met with excitement. The fans were rabid for more information. Eric was very careful with what was released. 

Jensen was sitting on the couch at home, pencil in his hand and a furrowed brow. He tapped his pencil on the paper and let out a long sigh. “Jens, are you okay?” He looked up, his green eyes red with exhaustion and full of frustration. “Yeah, I’m just trying to get this ending perfect. Dean deserves it, so do the fans.” 

I moved closer to him, took the pencil and paper out of his hand and straddled his lap. “Honey, take a break. It’s going to be perfect no matter what you write, because Dean isn’t the only one who needs this ending, you do too. Come on, let's get you nice and relaxed.” 

He smirked and his hands grabbed my hips, he leaned forward and kissed me. His hands slipped up my back and held me tight. I could feel the arousal settling in my core. “Jens, take me to our room, please.” I breathed out in a soft moan. 

Jensen took me to our bedroom and laid me on the bed. His hands slid up my thighs and to the waistband of my pants. I nodded and lifted my hips. He unzipped my pants and pulled them down with my panties. 

Jensen threw them to the side and let out a low growl as he stood up. I sat up and pulled my shirt over my head and Jensen unhooked my bra. “Damn baby, I am one lucky man. Look at you.” 

I blushed. “Jens, you’re over dressed.” I smirked. He pulled his shirt over his head and I clenched my thighs together at the sight of his toned body. 

I bit my lip as he removed his pants and boxers. 

Jensen’s fingertips brushed up my thighs as he climbed in between my legs. I felt the bed dip down as he positioned himself. Jensen leaned forward and kissed my lips soft at first, then full of need. His hands found my folds and his fingers delicately pushed past and to my entrance. “Damn baby, you’re soaked.” 

I moved my hips as his fingers pushed inside me. He hooked them up, pulling a moan from my lips. The sound his fingers made pushing in and out of me, and the moans from my lips filled the room with the most pornographic, erotic sound I’d ever heard. It turned me on more. 

“Mmm, that’s right baby. Cum for me. Let me hear how good it feels.” “Jens, I’m so close. Oh god baby!” I felt myself getting closer to my release. He was the only one who could ever make me cum as quickly as he does.

Jensen’s fingers moved faster and he started rubbing my clit. “Come on baby, let go. I’m right here.” My body responded to him and I came hard. My body was squeezing his fingers inside me as he helped me ride out my release.

My heart was beating fast and my legs felt like jello. Jensen smirked, leaned down and kissed my lips. “Jens, I need you, now!” I growled against his lips. 

“Yes, ma’am.” Jensen pumped himself a few times, lined himself up and pushed his engorged cockhead past my glistening lips and into my waiting core. His head dipped into the crook of my neck as he bottomed out. 

Lifting my legs up he pushed in deeper. His movements were steady and slow. Leaning down to kiss my lips and kiss down my body. 

The bed squeaked with every thrust. Jensen and my bodies tangled together and moved in perfect harmony.

My fingers dug into the flesh of his shoulders as he picked up the pace. Each thrust pushed us both closer to the edge. “Jens, don’t stop…fuck! Yes! Just like that..” “Yes baby! Oh fuck, Y/N. I’m going to cum.” 

My second release hit as Jensen’s thrusts picked up. My release pulled his out with a grunt. His seed coating my insides white.

Jensen held onto me as he emptied inside me. He leaned down and kissed my lips softly, “God I love you. So much, Y/N.” I smiled against his lips, “I love you too, Jensen.”

He got out of bed and grabbed a washcloth to clean us both up. After we were clean he pulled the blanket over us and held me tight. 

“Jens, why not give Dean a baby? The fans would eat that up. They’ve always wanted Dean to have a wife and a child.” Jensen laid in the bed, quiet. I could tell he was thinking. 

“I tell you what, let’s write it out and see how it looks on paper and if we could make it work.” I nodded.

As he tried to get up, I pulled him back down. “Absolutely not, Mr Ackles. You’re staying right here with me for a while. I’m not some cheap floozy you can bang and then leave.” I smirked. 

“Oh believe me, you’re not cheap. Far from it sweetheart.” Jensen smirked and I gasped. I feigned hurt. “Aww sweetheart, I was only kidding.” “I bet Dean Winchester wouldn’t treat me like that.” I stuck my tongue out and Jensen laughed. “No, he wouldn’t, but your husband loves to banter with you and would do anything to make you happy, even give you a baby.”

My eyes shot up and I looked at him, gasping softly. “What?” “Sweetheart, I know you want a baby, our baby. Maybe after we wrap, you and I can try.”

“Jensen, are you sure? I know you already have 3.” 

He cupped my face, “Yes, I’m sure. What do you say?” I kissed his lips, peppering his face with kisses, “Yes, Jensen! Yes, I want to try.” 

The next few weeks the finale was written and Jensen seemed satisfied with it. The shoots and reshoots were really starting to take its toll on me. 

Jensen would often find me curled up on the couch or the bed in between shoots. Today was no different, except I had a cold that was making the exhaustion worse. 

I didn’t have any scenes today, so I stayed in the trailer. Around lunchtime I walked to craft services to get something to eat. I grabbed a little of everything and carried it back to the trailer. Sitting on the couch I ate my fill, grabbed the blanket and fell back to sleep. 

About an hour later Jensen came in for his lunch break and saw all the food. He laughed, “Hey sweetheart, looks like you’ve gotten your appetite back.” I stretched and rubbed my eyes, “Yeah, I wasn’t sure what I wanted so I grabbed a little of everything.” He chuckled, “Looks like it. How are you feeling?”

“Still really tired. I have a doctor's appointment this afternoon, I really hope I don’t have the flu. I have an early shoot tomorrow.” Jensen looked up, “Do you need me to go with you?” I shook my head no, “I’ll be okay. Besides, you have an afternoon shoot.” 

The afternoon appointment provided answers, ones that brought even more of a challenge. Arriving back on the lot I went to the set to see how filming was going. They had just wrapped for the day and Jensen was meeting with Eric and Robert about the finale. 

Jensen saw me and motioned to me. “Hey baby. How was your appointment?” “It was good. So, how did you two like the finale writing?” 

“It was great! What do you think?” I placed my hand in Jensen’s, “I think it’s perfect.” 

“Great, we start shooting the last episode in about a week. You rest and take care of yourself.” I nodded, “I will, doc said it’s nothing bad and it will pass.” 

The day to shoot the final episode was here and I was so nervous. Jensen had gone to set early and I was meeting him there. I grabbed my stuff and headed to set. 

Changing into my costume I walked to set. Jensen and Jared were already on set when I walked in. “Hey baby. You ready?” I nodded, “Yep, let’s do it.”

Robert took his place behind the camera, he and Jensen were directing the final episode, but because Jensen was in this scene he was in the hot seat. 

“Alright, places! Action!” 

“Come on Dean, Sam, Eileen and their son will be here any minute. I need you to help me set the table.” “In a minute, sweetheart. I’ve got to finish wrapping this present.” 

Ashley sighed. Hearing him fight with the paper and tape had her giggling. “Knock, knock. Dean, Ashley, we’re here.” “In the kitchen, Sam.” Ashley yelled from the bunker kitchen.

Sam and Eileen walked in with Sam Jr. in her arms. Ashley smiled and held out her hands for the baby. “How is the cutest nephew in the world?! Auntie Ashley missed you so much.” Placing a kiss on his head, she handed the baby back. 

“Okay, y’all go make yourselves comfortable, dinner is almost ready.” Dean walked into the kitchen and snaked his arms around her waist. “Need any help, baby?” “No, go spend time with Sammy, your sister in law and your nephew.” 

He nodded, walked over to the plate of cookies and swiped one. “Dean Winchester! You’re going to spoil your dinner.” He laughed and walked out, popping the cookie in his mouth.

After dinner and dessert everyone gathered around the Christmas Tree to exchange gifts. Ashley and Dean bought Sam a new briefcase, because he was headed back to law school. “Guys, this is awesome. Thank you!” 

Other gifts were exchanged and Ashley had one more for Dean. She walked over towards Dean with a small box in hand. Taking a steady breath she handed it to him. 

Dean’s green eyes sparkling with excitement, “What’s this?” Ashley smiled, “Just open it.” Dean carefully pulled the paper off and opened the box. In the box was a picture frame, and in the picture frame was a black and white photo. Dean’s face contorted with confusion. “What is this picture of?” 

“Dean, look closely at it.” I tried to keep my voice steady, but I was so nervous, because this wasn’t just a gift for Dean, it was meant for Jensen too. 

Dean looked closely at it and realized it was a sonogram. “Wait, does this mean you’re pregnant?” I nodded, “Yes Dean, you’re going to be a daddy.” Jensen was confused because this was not part of the script. He looked closer at the sonogram and saw my name on it. His eyes shot up to mine as the realization hit him. He whispered as tears filled his eyes, “You’re pregnant?” 

Tears filled my eyes and they started to fall, “Yes, we’re having a baby, Merry Christmas, Dean Winchester.” Jensen leaped out of the chair and threw his arms around me, pulling me into a kiss. 

“And Cut! Perfect you two!” We were too wrapped up in the kiss to pull apart. Eric and Robert came up to us and as we parted congratulated Jensen and I.

Jensen’s eyes went wide, “You two knew?” “Of course we did. How else do you think it got written in?” They laughed. 

Jensen and I walked back to our trailer, his hand on the small of my back, his other holding the sonogram. I was so nervous. “Y/N, are you okay?” I nodded.

“Jens, I know we talked about waiting until later, but I guess fate had other plans. I’m sorry.” 

He cupped my face, “Shh hey, no. This is amazing. We’re having a baby! I can’t believe it. Dean’s getting the ending he deserves, with a beautiful wife and a baby, and I get to have a baby with my beautiful wife. Everything is perfect.”

“I love you, Jensen so much.” “I love you too, Y/N, (he placed his hand on my belly) and I love you too.”

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[hjvi]

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𝘜𝘯𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯, 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘈𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘠𝘰𝘶

⚠︎  mdni, heavy smut, eating disorder (anorexia), overall mature subjects, and more

⤷ A gentle reminder: If my content ever feels overwhelming, please take care of yourself and step away. Anorexia is a key theme in this story, and as someone who understands its weight, this fic is deeply personal to me. I want to remind you that you're never alone in your journey.

Sending love and healing to all. 🩷

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𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 2: 𝙎𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙖 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩

The sound of skates carving through ice echoed in the quiet rink, but it barely registered in my mind. I was too focused on the way Chris’s hand felt in mine. The warmth of his fingers, the way they gently squeezed as if trying to anchor me to this moment, to him. I wasn’t sure if it was the silence of the rink or the chaos inside my head, but there was something in the air—something thick with unspoken words.

Chris and I stood side by side, staring out at the empty ice, both lost in the gravity of everything that had been said. He had apologized, confessed his love to me, and promised to help me heal. His words hung in the air between us, fragile and uncertain. I had told him I was willing to give us a chance, to give him a chance. But I wasn’t sure if I believed I deserved any of this.

I glanced down at our hands, our fingers still intertwined. And that’s when I saw it.

His eyes dropped to my bruised hands. The skin was discolored, darkened from the impact of fists, marks left from someone who should have loved me. The edges of his expression tightened for a fraction of a second before he quickly glanced away, like he couldn’t stand looking at them anymore. His jaw clenched briefly before he let out a shaky breath.

“Hey, uh,” Chris started, his voice tight as if he were trying to sound normal. “Do you wanna come over to my house? I have something I want to show you.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t know if I was ready for more of his kindness, for more of his attention. But I nodded slowly, almost instinctively. What else could I do? I wasn’t sure how long I could stand there, the weight of his unspoken questions pulling me under.

We left the rink, and within minutes, Matt—his only triplet brother with a license—pulled up in their old, beat-up car. The ride was silent, the kind of silence that feels louder than anything. Chris, normally so animated, so full of energy, sat beside me, his eyes flicking to me every few seconds as if he were studying my every move, trying to make sense of the distance between us.

I could feel his eyes on me, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. The silence stretched on, thick and heavy, pressing down on me with every passing second.

When we finally arrived at Chris’s house, I shuffled behind him up to his room, his footsteps quick and purposeful, as if he wanted to show me something important. My heart thudded painfully in my chest as I took in the walls of his room, decorated with rap posters, old vinyl records, and the familiar scent of his cologne and something else—comfort, maybe. It was all so him, yet I felt so out of place.

“You okay?” he asked, concern in his eyes as he glanced over at me. He had been looking at me like that all day—like I was something precious that he couldn’t bear to break.

I nodded stiffly, offering him a weak smile as I dropped my eyes to the sleeves of my hoodie. They were covered in dried tears, remnants of mascara streaking down my face from the few times I had wiped away my tears, trying to keep it together. I wasn’t even sure why I cared.

Chris noticed, and without hesitation, he moved to his closet, pulling out a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants. “Here,” he said, holding them out to me. “You need something clean. You can change in the bathroom, if you want.”

I accepted the clothes reluctantly, feeling an odd wave of guilt rise in my chest. I didn’t want to take anything from him. But his kindness felt almost overwhelming. And when I inhaled the scent of his hoodie, it was like an old memory wrapped around me, one that made me ache for a time I hadn’t realized I had lost. The familiarity of it made me feel both comforted and strangely distant.

“I’ll wait outside,” he said, stepping out of the room and closing the door behind him gently.

I walked into the bathroom and shut the door. The room was silent except for the hum of the fluorescent light above me. The mirror reflected a version of myself I didn’t recognize. I stood there for a long time, staring at myself. I unzipped my hoodie and slipped it off, throwing it on the floor, before pulling at the waistband of my low-rise jeans, stepping out of them with shaky hands. I was all too aware of the hollow feeling in my body, the emptiness that came from not eating, not caring.

As I reached for the hoodie Chris had given me, I slid my arms into the sleeves, feeling how much too big it was. The fabric hung off me like a curtain, too large for my frame. I felt the fabric stretch and tug, the empty space inside me made all too clear.

I lifted the hoodie, my fingers grazing the sharp outline of my ribs. I swallowed hard, fighting the rising wave of panic. I could feel the hollow hollowness inside of me, the bruises left by years of self-doubt and the echoes of my father’s words.

I stared at myself in the mirror, not realizing how much time had passed. Minutes slipped by like hours.

I couldn’t take it. I yanked the hoodie off, the fabric crumpling in my hands. My skin prickled with a familiar discomfort—the kind of vulnerability that I hated, the kind of vulnerability I had never been allowed to show.

There was a knock at the door.

“Are you okay in there?” Chris’s voice was muffled but full of concern.

I wanted to answer, but the words wouldn’t come. Before I could say anything, the door creaked open just a fraction. And then Chris stepped inside, his eyes immediately catching on my bare skin, my sweatpants hanging off my frame, and the rawness of my vulnerability.

He froze. “Oh God, I’m sorry,” he stammered, his face flushing in embarrassment. But he didn’t turn away. Instead, he stepped back, his eyes not leaving me.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came. Instead, I sank down onto the floor, my knees buckling beneath me as my body began to tremble. The sobs came in waves, uncontrollable, and I couldn’t stop them. I just sat there, breaking apart in front of him, unsure how to stop the flood of emotion that had been building for so long.

Chris, to his credit, didn’t try to rush over. He sat down next to me slowly, careful not to overwhelm me. He gave me space, but his presence was steady, like an anchor holding me together when I was slipping away. His hand hovered near me, unsure, but it was enough.

“You don’t like the hoodie color?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood with a joke, but I couldn’t even muster a smile.

“I feel so weak, Chris,” I cried. “I feel so skinny, like I’m fading away, and I can’t stop. I’m just… I’m so broken.”

His hand finally found its way to my back, gently rubbing circles over the fabric of his hoodie. “You’re not weak,” he said softly. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. And you don’t need to feel insecure. I love you. I’ll help you through this. You don’t have to fight this alone anymore.”

His words—gentle, so full of love and compassion—were a balm to the raw wounds inside me. I buried my face in his chest, not caring about how vulnerable I was, how exposed. For the first time in a long time, I let myself cry freely, knowing that someone was here to help me piece myself back together.

When the tears finally started to subside, Chris pulled away gently, his fingers brushing my hair out of my face. “How about a bath?” he suggested quietly. “A vanilla bubble bath. I’ll set it up for you.”

I let out a shaky giggle, feeling a hint of something lighter for the first time that night. “That sounds nice.”

“I’ll get everything ready,” he said, his voice soothing as he helped me stand. “You just… take all the time you need.”

As he went to his brother Matt’s room to give me some privacy, I stood there for a moment, lost in the quiet of the bathroom. I reached up to wipe away the last of my tears, but the weight of everything still hung heavy on my shoulders.

When I walked back into Chris’s room later, towel in hand, I overheard him talking to Matt in hushed tones, the conversation I had been dreading.

“Do you think she’s too thin?” Matt asked, his voice quieter than usual.

“I don’t know,” Chris replied, a tone of sadness in his words. “She’s just… so fragile, Matt. I don’t know how to fix her. I just want to help her.”

The words crushed me. I turned on my heel and fled back to his room, sinking down onto the floor with my back against his bed. It wasn’t about fixing me. I wasn’t some broken thing to be fixed.

I wiped away my tears, quickly swallowing down the rising wave of self-doubt. When Chris entered the room, he froze when he saw me sitting on the floor. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, kneeling down beside me.

“I don’t know, Chris,” I whispered, the weight of it all crashing back down on me. “I don’t know how to wash myself… I hate seeing my body.”

“Hey,” he said, lifting my chin gently, “it’s okay. You don’t have to do it alone.”

He reached under his bed and pulled out a small, weathered box. He opened it slowly, revealing photos of me, my hair ties, old bracelets, small trinkets I had long forgotten about. My breath caught in my throat.

“I kept everything because I can’t live my life without thinking about you,” Chris said softly, his eyes filled with something I couldn’t quite understand. “You are so beautiful. I hate seeing you do this to yourself. But I’ll be here. I’ll always be here, and I won’t leave you.”

I stared at the box, unable to speak for a moment. His words hit me harder than anything. He cared about me, but why did he talk about me like I was something broken, something that needed fixing?

I didn’t know, but I had to find out. And for the first time in so long, I was willing to try.

Chris sat beside me, the silence in his room hanging like a heavy blanket. He’d shown me the box, full of my old trinkets—little pieces of me that I hadn’t even realized mattered to him. But now, staring down at the photos, the bracelets, and the hair ties I had long forgotten about, something inside me was starting to crack.

“I—I didn’t even know you kept these,” I whispered, my voice trembling as I ran my fingers over a photo of me from years ago. It was from a school trip, one where I had laughed so hard my stomach ached, my eyes crinkling with joy. I couldn’t even remember that girl. She felt like a stranger now.

“I couldn’t let go of anything that had you in it,” Chris murmured, his voice low and serious, as if the weight of his words mattered more than anything else. “You’ve always been on my mind. Always. Even when I was… too stupid to realize it.”

I felt a swell of warmth in my chest at his words, but a sharp pang of guilt followed right after. He kept these things because he couldn’t forget me. But I had been so lost, so deep in the dark that I couldn’t remember who I was before all the pain.

“You always knew how to make me laugh,” I said, swallowing hard as I fought against the rush of emotions. “I used to laugh all the time. And now, it feels like I’ve forgotten how.”

Chris didn’t answer at first. His hand, gentle but firm, found mine. His fingers wrapped around my wrist, pulling my gaze back to him. His eyes were so earnest, so full of concern, like he could see right through the walls I had built around myself.

“You haven’t forgotten, though,” he said softly. “You just haven’t had a reason to laugh in a while. But you will again, I promise.”

I looked away, tears gathering in my eyes, and Chris squeezed my hand, the contact grounding me, reminding me that I wasn’t alone in this.

“Chris… I—I’m scared,” I whispered, barely audible. “Scared of what’s happening inside me. I don’t know how to fix it.”

His face softened, and he slowly pulled me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me. I rested my head against his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of him—the cologne, the faint smell of laundry detergent, and something uniquely Chris, something that felt like home. His embrace was warm, enveloping, and for a moment, the world outside his room, outside of everything I had been through, seemed so far away.

“You don’t have to fix anything,” he whispered into my hair. “I’ll help you, step by step. But you don’t have to fix it all on your own. You don’t have to carry this burden alone. Not anymore.”

I nodded, my breath catching as I allowed myself to lean into him, feeling something shift within me. The heaviness that had weighed on my chest for so long was starting to lighten, piece by piece.

There was a long pause, where all we did was hold each other, not saying anything more. And then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Chris pulled back slightly, his hand moving to my cheek, lifting my face to meet his eyes.

“You want to take that bath?” he asked softly, his voice coaxing yet gentle.

I hesitated for a moment. I hadn’t planned on doing anything like that. The thought of getting clean, of scrubbing away the remnants of the past, made me feel exposed in ways I wasn’t ready to face. But something in his gaze softened the edges of my fear.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “I think I do.”

“Good,” he said, his crooked smile tender as he brushed a lock of hair from my face. “I’ll get it ready for you.”

I stepped into the bathroom a few minutes later, the soft sound of Chris’s footsteps fading into the background as he prepared the bath. The room was bathed in warm light, the kind of soft glow that felt like it could cradle me in its embrace. He had already filled the tub with bubbles, the scent of vanilla wafting through the air.

“Here,” Chris said, handing me a fresh towel and a pair of his old slippers, the kind he wore around the house. “I’ll give you privacy to change. Just… take your time.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice to speak. The thought of washing away the layers of pain that had accumulated over time felt almost foreign. But Chris was right—this was part of healing. I could start small. I could start with something simple, like the warmth of the water surrounding me.

As I stripped off my clothes and stepped into the bath, the water felt like a second skin. It was soothing and gentle, yet the bubbles seemed to bring everything to the surface. I leaned back, letting the warmth seep into my muscles, trying to breathe deeply, trying to calm the storm that raged inside my head.

But it was still there. The emptiness, the ache. The feeling of being too small, too fragile, too broken.

Chris knocked on the door softly a few minutes later, his voice muffled. “You okay in there?”

“I’m… I think so,” I called back, my voice barely above a whisper.

He pushed the door open a crack, just enough for his head to peek through. “Do you want me to come in?” he asked, his eyes soft with concern.

I hesitated. A thousand thoughts swirled in my head. But in that moment, I needed him. Not in the way I had needed someone before, but in the way that felt raw and real.

“Yeah,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Please.”

Chris stepped into the bathroom, his presence so calming it was like I could finally breathe a little easier. He moved with quiet care, making sure not to intrude, not to overwhelm.

He sat on the edge of the tub, his hand brushing lightly against my hair, careful not to disturb the bubbles.

“Do you need help?” he asked, his voice a soft murmur.

I shook my head, feeling a lump rise in my throat. “I don’t know if I can… do this,” I whispered.

Chris took a deep breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was unwavering. “I’m here. I’ll help however I can, even if it’s just sitting here with you.”

And so, he did. He sat by the edge of the tub, his hand gently resting on my arm, a grounding presence.

I finally closed my eyes, letting the warmth of the water, the comfort of his touch, and the gentleness of his voice wash over me.

The warm water enveloped me like a second skin. The steam rose in gentle swirls, filling the bathroom with the soft scent of vanilla bubbles, calming me just enough to breathe deeper. But as I sank further into the tub, I couldn’t shake the heavy weight pressing down on my chest. The scars, the bruises, the emptiness inside—it was all still there, lingering like a storm inside me.

The soft clink of a bottle being opened echoed in the quiet, followed by the sound of Chris’s voice, calm and steady, like he was trying to anchor me.

“Is the water warm enough?” he asked, standing just outside the tub, his voice soft and considerate.

I nodded, though my eyes were shut, a futile attempt to block out everything. I hadn’t expected this. I hadn’t expected him to stay close, to offer to help. It was overwhelming in a way I couldn’t explain. But still, I felt the faintest stir of relief in my heart. Maybe this was what I needed. Maybe this was how I could start to heal.

Chris, sensing my hesitance, didn’t rush. He waited, patient and gentle, until I nodded again, finally allowing him into the space I had, until now, kept so tightly guarded.

“I’m right here,” he said, kneeling beside the tub. His hand reached out, his fingers brushing softly against my shoulder as if to reassure me. He was so close, and yet he gave me space, the quiet comfort of his presence enough to settle my nerves. “Do you want me to help you wash?”

The words felt strange on my tongue, and I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. But part of me wanted him to stay close, to be the one to help me through this—this vulnerability that terrified me. So, I swallowed my pride and nodded, unsure of what else to do.

Chris’s voice was low and steady, a constant reassurance as he reached for the body wash, the soft scent of lavender and vanilla wafting through the air. He poured it into his hands, lathering it gently before turning his attention back to me.

“I’m just going to start with your arms, okay?” he asked, his eyes soft but filled with something more—something that felt like a promise.

I swallowed hard, afraid of what I might see if I let him in too much, but I couldn’t find the strength to pull away. There was something about his kindness, his unwavering patience, that made me feel a little less fragile.

His fingers gently cupped my wrist as he began to wash the skin of my arms, his touch tender, careful not to overwhelm me. The sensation of his hands gliding over my skin was almost too much to bear, yet it was strangely soothing, like he was washing away pieces of the hurt that had accumulated for so long.

“Let me know if it’s too much,” Chris murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper, a tenderness in his tone that made my heart ache. His touch was light as he moved down, past my elbows, moving to my forearms, the lather turning into a soft foam as it slid across my skin. His touch was careful, as if he could sense the weight of my past, the scars, both seen and unseen, that I was trying to bury beneath the surface.

I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the feeling of his hands. Trying to let it soothe the growing discomfort in my chest. But with every gentle sweep of his fingers, the floodgates seemed to open, and my chest tightened. The moment felt too intimate, too raw, but still, I stayed.

“You’re doing great,” he whispered, his voice steady like a beacon in the storm. “I’m right here.”

His hands moved to my shoulders, the pads of his fingers tracing over the skin of my upper arms with gentle care. As he reached the back of my neck, his hands hesitated, and I could feel the heat of his gaze, though I refused to meet it. I could feel the weight of his concern pressing against me, like he wanted to do more, wanted to somehow fix what had been broken for so long.

But he didn’t push. He simply washed, quietly, steadily, as if he was trying to reassure me that nothing would change in this moment—he wouldn’t rush, he wouldn’t push me beyond what I could handle.

Slowly, I felt his hands move to the small of my back, washing down the length of my spine. His touch was so gentle, so unhurried, as though he had all the time in the world to make sure I felt cared for. His hands glided over the small curve of my back, and even though I felt exposed, raw, I felt something stir within me—a longing for comfort, for healing. I closed my eyes, biting back the tremors that threatened to overtake me.

“You’re okay,” Chris said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re safe.”

I felt the tears well up in my eyes again, threatening to spill over, but I held them back, clenching my fists in the water, willing them to stay.

His hands moved to my ribs then, slowly, as though he was afraid of hurting me. The touch was so tender that it made my heart ache in a way I wasn’t prepared for. His fingers brushed over the skin of my side, and I stiffened involuntarily, the memories of being touched without care, without kindness, rushing back to me.

Chris noticed instantly. His hands froze for a moment, as though he was waiting for me to pull away. But I didn’t. Instead, I leaned into his touch, trying to let it soothe me, trying to remind myself that I wasn’t broken beyond repair. Not yet.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice trembling with emotion. “I just… I just hate how I look. How I feel.”

Chris’s voice softened, filled with an emotion I couldn’t place. “You’re beautiful,” he said simply, the words steady, unwavering. “You’re beautiful just the way you are. Don’t ever forget that.”

I closed my eyes tighter, not sure I could believe him, but the warmth of his hands on my skin, the way his fingers moved carefully over me, told me he wasn’t lying. He saw me. The real me. Not the broken pieces I tried to hide.

His hands moved to my stomach, gently lathering the soap along the curve of my waist. I could feel myself wanting to shrink away, but I stayed, breathing in deeply, trying to let myself relax. I had to remind myself that this was Chris. The same Chris who had made me laugh in ways I had forgotten. The same Chris who had been my friend, my constant, long before everything had gone wrong. And now, he was still here.

“Almost done,” he said, his voice quiet, soothing. His hands moved slowly, methodically, as though trying to memorize the feel of me, as though he needed to make sure I was taken care of.

I nodded again, my throat tight with emotion, but the discomfort started to ease just a little. His hands felt like safety, like protection, and I let the warmth of the water, of him, wash over me.

When he finished, Chris gently pulled his hands away and grabbed the towel from the nearby rack. His fingers worked quickly, drying my skin with soft, deliberate motions. His touch, while gentle, was insistent, as if he was trying to remind me that I was still here, still whole, even if it didn’t feel like it.

“Come on,” he said, his voice soft, a smile tugging at his lips as he helped me out of the tub. “Let’s get you cozy.”

As he helped me into a pair of his old sweatpants and a loose hoodie, I couldn’t help but notice how his hands lingered over the soft fabric. It felt so… normal. The simple act of being cared for, of being seen, was something I hadn’t allowed myself to feel in a long time.

When he finished, he tucked me into his bed, the soft covers enveloping me like a cocoon. He sat on the edge, just watching me, his eyes full of something I didn’t know how to name.

“I’m here,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “Whenever you’re ready to talk, or not talk, I’m here.”

I nodded, the exhaustion of everything that had happened weighing heavily on me. But for the first time in a long time, I felt like I wasn’t drowning in it all. Chris was here, and I wasn’t alone.

And for now, that was enough.

“Chris,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, “I never meant for any of this to happen. I never meant to let myself get this far.”

“I know,” he replied softly, his fingers brushing through my hair. “But it’s not your fault. You’re not to blame for the things that have happened to you. You’ve been through more than anyone should have to go through.”

I sighed deeply, the weight of his words sinking into me. I closed my eyes, a tear slipping down my cheek despite my best efforts to hold it in. I could feel his hand on my cheek, wiping away the tear.

The room felt heavy, the silence between us thick with unspoken things. I had shared the worst parts of myself with Chris—the parts of me I had been hiding, the parts I hadn’t dared to look at in years. But as the words left my mouth, I realized how much more there was to say, how much I had buried beneath the surface. And now, with Chris here, his steady presence beside me, it felt like the dam inside me had broken open.

Chris didn’t speak immediately, but I could feel his anger simmering beneath his calm exterior. It was there in the way his jaw tightened, in the way his fingers gently squeezed mine, as if he were trying to hold me together while trying to contain the fury building inside him.

“You’re safe now, (Y/N),” he said softly, but there was a strain in his voice. “But I want to know more. I need to know what happened… all of it.”

I looked up at him, the room dim in the evening light, but his eyes were bright with the weight of his emotions. “I don’t know if I can…” My voice wavered, as if speaking the words out loud might make them more real, more permanent. “I don’t know how to tell you.”

He didn’t rush me. He just sat there, steady, waiting. “You don’t have to do it all at once, but I’m here, and I want to hear it. Whatever you’re ready to share.”

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat like a stone that wouldn’t budge. It was too much, too overwhelming. But his patience, the way he was just there—unwavering—made me feel like maybe, just maybe, I could say it.

I inhaled deeply, trying to steady my shaky breath. “He’s… he’s still hitting me.” The words slipped out like daggers, sharp and jagged, and I couldn’t take them back.

Chris’s face twisted in disgust, his eyes blazing with something darker, something I couldn’t quite place. His grip on my hand tightened to the point of pain, but I didn’t want him to let go. “What do you mean, still?” he spat, his voice trembling with anger. “What the hell do you mean, still hitting you? After everything? After all these years?”

I flinched, the pain of his words stinging more than I expected, but not in a bad way. Chris was angry—for me, for the things I had endured—and I needed that anger. It was the first time someone had ever been angry for me.

“He doesn’t care. He never did. He doesn’t care that I’m his daughter.” I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes again, the tightness in my chest making it hard to breathe. “I don’t know what to do. He’ll always come back. He won’t stop.”

“God, I’m so fucking mad at him right now,” Chris growled, slamming his fist down on the bed between us. “How could anyone do that to you? I don’t care if he’s your dad—no one should ever lay a finger on you. No one.”

I could see the pain in his eyes, the rage that burned there, but it was mixed with something else too—something softer. Concern, protectiveness, the desire to shield me from all of it.

I shook my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips as the tears started to fall. “He just… he can’t stop, Chris. He gets drunk, and then it’s like he doesn’t even see me anymore. He just sees someone to hurt. And I don’t know how to make it stop. I don’t know how to get out.”

I could feel the panic rising in me again, that familiar, overwhelming sense of suffocation creeping in like it always did when I thought about the fear of being stuck, of being trapped in that life. The life where I wasn’t safe, where I wasn’t even allowed to feel like I mattered.

Chris’s voice became softer, almost a whisper, but it was full of resolve. “You don’t have to go back to him, (Y/N). You don’t have to live like that. I won’t let you.” His hands gently cupped my face, as though he were trying to steady me, trying to pull me back from the edge I felt myself teetering on. “You deserve so much more than this, and I swear to you, I’m going to help you get out of this. We’ll figure it out together.”

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that things could be different, that I didn’t have to go back to the house that had been my prison for so long. But the doubt gnawed at me, a constant voice in the back of my head telling me that it was all just a dream, that things would never change.

“I don’t know how,” I whispered, my breath catching in my throat again. The panic was slowly building inside me, and I couldn’t stop it. My hands began to shake violently, and I felt like I was drowning in the tightness in my chest. The room began to spin, and I couldn’t seem to catch my breath.

“Chris,” I gasped, clutching at his shirt, “I can’t breathe…”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re okay,” Chris said urgently, his hands moving to my shoulders, pulling me closer to him. “Just focus on me, okay? Focus on me. You’re safe. You’re safe with me.”

But the panic didn’t stop. My chest felt tight, my heartbeat erratic, and I couldn’t seem to calm down. Every breath I took felt shallow, as though the air wasn’t getting into my lungs. I could feel the walls closing in again, just like they did every time I let myself think about what my dad had done to me.

I began to tremble uncontrollably, my hands like ice against his warm skin. My head felt light, and I had to fight the overwhelming urge to collapse.

“Chris, I can’t…” I whispered between gasps, feeling the world slipping away from me. “I’m scared. I’m scared of what will happen if I can’t get away. I’m scared of him coming after me, of never being free.”

Chris’s eyes were frantic now, but he was still holding me steady, his voice unwavering. “You’re not alone in this, (Y/N). I won’t let you go through this alone, okay? You’re safe now. You’re with me. We’ll figure this out, I promise.”

He moved his hands down to my back, rubbing slow circles as he whispered over and over again, “Breathe. Just breathe. In… out… You’re okay. You’re going to be okay. I won’t let him hurt you again. I won’t let him hurt you anymore.”

I tried to focus on his voice, to let the steady rhythm of his words ground me, but my body wouldn’t stop shaking. My breath was still shallow, and I felt like I was drowning in the memories, in the fear of my dad’s hands on me, of his voice shouting at me, of the pain I’d felt when he told me I wasn’t worth anything.

But then, slowly, my breath started to steady. The panic began to recede, and I was left trembling in Chris’s arms, my chest heaving, but the overwhelming tightness starting to fade.

“You’re okay,” Chris said softly, brushing his thumb across my cheek. “You’re here with me. You’re safe. I’m not going anywhere.”

I closed my eyes, clinging to him like he was the only thing that could keep me from falling apart. But as much as I tried to believe it—tried to believe him—there was still a part of me that felt like I was trapped. Still a part of me that didn’t know how to escape the life I’d been born into.

But with Chris’s arms around me, his warmth seeping into me, I felt like maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something different.

The room felt quieter now, the oppressive weight of my panic slowly lifting as Chris’s steady presence calmed the storm inside me. His arms, strong but gentle, still wrapped around me, and for the first time since I’d entered his house, I felt a sense of calm begin to settle deep in my chest. The world outside might still be chaotic, but here, in this space with him, I was allowed to be broken. I didn’t have to hide. And for once, that thought didn’t scare me—it comforted me.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered again, my voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to freak out on you like that.”

Chris shook his head softly, pulling me a little closer. “You don’t ever have to apologize for that,” he said quietly, his voice calm but firm, as if wanting to erase the guilt I felt. “You’re allowed to feel whatever you’re feeling. I’m just glad you’re here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

I leaned into him, feeling his warmth seep through the thin fabric of my hoodie. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my ear was grounding. It was like listening to the sound of something real and tangible, something that wasn’t connected to the chaos that always seemed to follow me. His love, his presence—everything about him was real, and it was one of the only things I felt I could rely on.

The minutes stretched on, and gradually, the shaking in my body slowed. My breath deepened, and though I still felt raw, the sharpness of the panic attack had dulled into a more manageable ache. It was as though, piece by piece, I was learning to breathe again.

“Are you feeling better?” Chris asked after a moment, his voice low and careful, as if afraid to disturb the delicate balance we had found. He pulled back slightly to look at me, his eyes searching mine for any sign of distress.

I nodded, but my voice still trembled. “Yeah… just a little… dizzy. But better. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Chris murmured, wiping a stray tear from my cheek with the pad of his thumb. “I’m just glad I could help. You’re not alone, (Y/N). You never will be again.”

I swallowed hard, trying to suppress the lump in my throat. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “You’ve always been there for me, Chris. Even when I didn’t deserve it.”

“Stop saying that,” he said firmly, his tone soft but resolute. “You’ve always deserved it. You deserve every bit of love and care in the world, (Y/N). You deserve to feel safe. You deserve to heal.”

His words lingered in the air between us, and for a moment, I felt a wave of gratitude rush over me. It was hard for me to accept that kind of love, to believe I was worthy of it, but I didn’t want to push him away anymore. Not when he was trying so hard to give me something I’d never had before.

We sat there for a while, neither of us saying much, just being in each other’s presence. It felt like time had slowed down in the most comforting way possible. The panic that had felt suffocating now seemed like a distant memory, and I realized, with a twinge of bittersweetness, how much I had missed moments like this. Moments where I didn’t have to pretend to be something I wasn’t.

Chris cleared his throat after a while, breaking the silence. “You know, I’ve missed this,” he said quietly, his fingers gently tracing the back of my hand. “I’ve missed having you around. I missed having you sleep over.”

My heart skipped a beat at his words. The memories of spending nights at his house, hiding away from the world, were so much clearer now. There was comfort in those late-night talks, in the sound of his brothers’ laughter echoing through the house, in the feeling of being part of something that wasn’t broken. Something that made me forget the things I had to escape at home.

“I missed it too,” I replied, the words escaping before I could stop them. “It was the only time I felt like… like I had a family, you know? Like I was safe.”

Chris’s gaze softened, and for a moment, I could see the tenderness in his eyes. “You are family, (Y/N),” he said. “You always have been. You’re just as much a part of us as Matt, Nick, and me. Don’t ever doubt that.”

I felt a lump in my throat at his words. It was hard to accept that kind of care, but somehow, with him, it didn’t feel as impossible. It felt like it might actually be real. “You guys were always the closest thing to family I had,” I said, my voice quieter now. “When I stayed at your house, it was like everything else faded away. Like I could breathe for the first time in so long.”

“I know,” he said, his voice soft, yet tinged with an almost protective edge. “That’s why I want you to come over more. And stay as long as you want, okay?”

I nodded, the idea of having a constant refuge growing more and more appealing. “I really appreciate you, Chris. More than you know.”

He smiled then, a small, soft smile, but it was enough to make my heart flutter. “You don’t need to thank me,” he said, reaching over and squeezing my hand gently. “You’re worth it. You’ve always been worth it.”

The words hung between us, and for a moment, I let myself believe them. I had spent so long thinking I wasn’t worthy of love, of care, but with Chris, it felt like I might just be wrong.

Chris then leaned back, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I was thinking… if you’re comfortable with it, you could sleep over tonight. We have a guest room, but if you want, you can sleep in my room too. Whatever makes you feel more comfortable.”

The thought of sleeping under the same roof as him, of being so close to him, made my heart race in ways I didn’t quite understand yet. But the idea of being in a space where I could truly rest—without the constant tension and fear of home—sounded like a dream.

“I… I’d like that,” I said softly, the words barely leaving my lips before Chris’s face broke into a smile.

“Good,” he said, his voice warmer now. “It’s settled, then. You’re staying.”

I smiled back at him, feeling a surge of appreciation flood through me. “Thank you. Really.”

Chris leaned in to kiss the top of my head, his breath warm against my hair. “You’re welcome. Now, go get some rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

The night was quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the air conditioning, the occasional creak of the house settling, and the faint sounds of traffic from outside. The room was dimly lit, soft moonlight streaming through the curtains. I stood by Chris’s door, my fingers tracing the edge of the frame, unsure of what to do next.

Chris had already prepared the guest room for me. The bed was neatly made, the pillows fluffed. But as I stood there, I realized something—something I hadn’t admitted to myself until now: I didn’t want to sleep alone. Not tonight. Not after everything that had happened.

I glanced over at Chris, who was sitting on the edge of his bed. His eyes were soft, yet filled with that familiar protectiveness I had come to rely on. He’d given me the option of sleeping in the guest room, but he didn’t press it. He just watched me, waiting for me to make up my mind. And somehow, that quiet patience made everything feel a little easier.

“Are you sure?” he asked gently, his voice low. “You don’t have to if you’re not ready.”

I nodded slowly, swallowing the knot in my throat. “I want to stay with you,” I whispered. The words felt vulnerable, like I was admitting something I’d been too afraid to admit even to myself. But as I looked at him, something in me softened. I didn’t have to be afraid here. Not with him.

Chris didn’t respond right away. He just smiled a little, that soft, comforting smile of his, the one that always made me feel like maybe everything wasn’t so broken after all. He patted the bed beside him, a simple invitation. “Come on then. Get comfortable.”

I hesitated, standing there in the middle of the room, still holding the hem of my oversized hoodie, feeling a strange mix of relief and anxiety. I had spent so many nights alone in my own bed, trying to sleep through the memories of my father’s anger, the shouts, the pounding fists, the feeling of being trapped in a house that never felt like home. But tonight, I wasn’t alone. Not really.

I crawled into the bed, my body feeling stiff, not quite sure what to do next. Chris kept his distance at first, settling in on his side of the bed, turning on his side to face away from me. His back was to me, but I could feel the space between us. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t the closeness I longed for either. I needed something more than distance, more than just his presence across the room.

I reached out tentatively, my hand brushing the edge of his shirt, and in a soft whisper, I said, “Chris?”

His body tensed for a split second, but he didn’t turn around. Instead, his voice was low, a little rough. “Yeah?”

“I… I don’t want to be alone tonight,” I said, barely able to form the words. The truth was, I was scared. Scared of the nightmares that might come, scared of the darkness and what it might bring. But more than that, I was scared of being vulnerable, of needing someone and not knowing how to ask for it.

Chris’s response was immediate. He turned around slowly, facing me, his expression soft, understanding. He didn’t say anything right away, but instead, he reached out, gently guiding me toward him. “You’re not alone, (Y/N). Not anymore,” he whispered, his voice full of conviction.

It wasn’t like I was scared—no, that wasn’t it—but there was a strange sense of comfort in being this close to someone who truly cared. Still, the distance between us remained for a moment, and I couldn’t help but feel a little unsure of myself.

Chris didn’t press, though. He just stayed where he was, pulling the covers up around him. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but I found myself inching closer, seeking the warmth of his body, the connection I had been craving but too scared to ask for.

And then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him moving toward the small dresser by the bed. He started to unbutton his shirt, unaware that I was watching.

The suddenness of it made my heart skip a beat. My gaze followed his every movement, captivated by the way his body moved as he shed his shirt. He wasn’t being flashy or deliberate; it was just natural for him, the way he carried himself with a quiet confidence that made my stomach twist in the best way. I could see the muscles in his back shift as he pulled the shirt over his head, his toned body now exposed to the dim light of the room.

I hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected the moment of stillness where I could appreciate him in his simplest form. He wasn’t trying to impress me, wasn’t posing or playing it up. It was just him.

And for the first time, I truly saw him. The sculpted shoulders, the defined muscles along his arms, the way his skin seemed to glow under the soft light, the gentle curve of his back. Everything about him was perfect. So perfectly human, so real, that it almost overwhelmed me.

Chris turned toward me then, his chest now bare, and I quickly looked away, my face flushing as I realized I had been staring. But before I could feel embarrassed, I caught him looking at me, that mischievous smile curling up at the corners of his lips.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice teasing but with an underlying softness. He knew exactly what I was thinking.

I swallowed, trying to find words. “I, uh… you look perfect,” I mumbled, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

He chuckled, not at all fazed by my awkwardness. “You’re the only one who thinks so.” He reached for the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling them down with ease and slipping into a fresh pair before sliding back into bed beside me.

But there was a softness in his movements now, a tenderness that came with his willingness to let me see him—let me in. He wasn’t just showing me his body, but his trust. And that meant more than anything.

As he settled back into bed, he turned toward me, the space between us finally closing as he reached out a hand. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked again, his voice so gentle that it made my heart ache.

I nodded, this time more certain. “I’m okay. I just… I missed being close to someone. To you.”

And then, he opened his arms.

I didn’t hesitate this time. My heart pounded in my chest, and with a mix of relief and hesitance, I scooted closer, curling up against his chest. The warmth of his body was comforting, a quiet reassurance that I wasn’t in this fight alone. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me in, his embrace tight but not suffocating. I felt his breath on the top of my head, steady and rhythmic, like a heartbeat.

For a moment, everything felt safe. The chaos of my mind, the pain of my past, all of it seemed to fade away as I listened to the sound of Chris’s heartbeat, the steady thrum of life that was so different from the anger and fear I’d been accustomed to. He was here, and for tonight, that was enough.

I let out a long, shaky breath, feeling my body relax in his arms. But I still couldn’t help the thoughts that crept into my mind—the way I felt so small in his arms, how much I had lost, and how little I had ever felt cared for. But then, as if sensing my discomfort, Chris moved slightly, adjusting his position so that we were closer, my head resting on his chest. His hand gently began to stroke my hair, his fingers threading through the strands in a slow, comforting rhythm.

His fingers continued to gently play with my hair, and I could feel the soft, steady rhythm of his hand. It was so soothing, the motion familiar in a way I couldn’t explain. It felt like home, like something I’d been searching for without even knowing it. His scent, that familiar cologne mixed with the clean scent of soap, enveloped me, and for the first time in so long, I felt like I could breathe.

His hand reached for mine then, his fingers lacing with mine in the quiet dark of the room. The simple connection was grounding, and as he pulled me closer, I felt something shift. I had been running from the past for so long, so afraid of what was behind me that I hadn’t realized how desperate I was for the present. For someone who cared.

“Your hair smells so good,” I said quietly, a small smile tugging at my lips. I had never noticed how comforting his scent was before. It was like a reassurance I hadn’t realized I needed.

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and genuine. “It’s just shampoo,” he teased, but I could tell he was pleased by my words. He continued to play with my hair, the action so tender that it almost made me feel like I was someone worth caring for.

“It’s not just shampoo,” I said softly, lifting my head a little to look at him. “It’s you. You’re… comforting, Chris. It’s like… I feel safe when I’m with you.”

I leaned my head against his chest, the steady beat of his heart beneath me calming the frantic pulse of my own. His arm wrapped around me as I settled more fully against him. I could feel his breath on the top of my head as he shifted, pulling me just a little closer.

“You know, I could get used to this,” I said, the words slipping out before I could fully process them. “I missed sleeping over at your house… when I could just escape home for a bit.”

Chris stiffened for a moment, as if processing my words. Then, he ran his fingers through my hair gently, his touch so soft that it almost felt like he was tracing the contours of my soul.

“I know,” he said quietly. “You’re welcome here anytime, (Y/N). Don’t ever feel like you can’t come over. It was never about just ‘hanging out,’ you know? I care about you. I always have.”

My chest tightened at his words, the weight of them sinking deep inside me. I closed my eyes, trying to take in the comfort of his embrace, trying to let myself believe him. I could feel the warmth of his body against mine, the quiet strength that emanated from him, and it made me feel safe in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time.

The words settled in my heart like a balm, soothing the wounds that had never quite healed. I felt his fingers moving slowly through my hair again, and this time, there was no rush. Just us, wrapped in the quiet security of knowing that we didn’t have to face the world alone.

As the night stretched on, I felt myself relax more, his steady breath and gentle touch lulling me into a peaceful stillness. He kept playing with my hair, his hand brushing over my forehead, smoothing out any lingering tension. The rhythm of his movements was comforting, and I found myself drifting, my eyelids growing heavier as I rested against his chest.

“I don’t ever want to leave,” I murmured, my voice barely a whisper now, sleep creeping in.

“You don’t have to,” Chris replied softly, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “Stay as long as you need.”

And with that, I let myself fall into the warmth of his embrace, the first true rest I’d had in what felt like a lifetime.

“I don’t deserve you,” I whispered, the words barely escaping my lips, but somehow, they felt true.

Chris pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt my chin up so I could see his face. “You deserve everything, (Y/N). More than you know. Don’t ever forget that.”

I felt a lump form in my throat, but instead of pushing it down, I let it rise. Tears welled in my eyes as I looked at him, my heart aching with the need to express how much his words meant to me.

“You’re too good to me,” I said, voice breaking. “I don’t know how to repay you for all of this.”

He smiled softly, brushing a stray tear away from my cheek. “You don’t need to repay me. Just… let me be here for you. That’s all.”

His voice was so steady, so comforting, and as he pulled me back into his chest, I felt everything fall into place. For the first time in years, I didn’t feel so alone.

With Chris by my side, I had everything I needed.

A/N: Hey, loves! 💖 First off, thank you so much for making it this far. Your support honestly means the world to me, and I can't thank you enough. I know this chapter feels a little more low-key and maybe even rushed—life’s been a bit chaotic on my end—but I really wanted to take the time to dig deeper into the characters and their emotions. A special thanks to @bernardsbendystraws for being such an inspiration to this fic. You’ve truly helped shape the direction of this story!

This chapter touches on some really heavy topics, especially around eating disorders, and I hope it gets recognition! It's a difficult subject to navigate, but it's so important to shed light on it. I appreciate all of you who stick with me and support these moments in the story. You all keep me going!

If you or someone you care about is struggling with anorexia, please reach out to the helpline at [National Eating Disorders Association Helpline: 1-800-931-2237 or text "NEDA" to 741741]. You are not alone, and there is always support available when you need it.

taglist: @swagalicious260 @watercolorskyy @coquettechris @lovesturni0l0s @christmastreecake @ellbowmacaroni @blog-luvdance @sophand4n4 @meg4-matt44

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[sinister-sincerely]

hi sin... :3c ... >:3c

we care youuuuuuu 💜💜💜

much sillies!! & much lovely art!! from @midnight-mourning @luckyyyduckyyy @soupdweller @wyervan & i, for you!!! 🫵

we hope that you are doing well! and that you are taking care, giving yourself grace through the highs & lows alike. it's not always easy, but you're not alone. hopefully this gets a laugh for ya to enjoy 💜

& in the future, if you'd like to draw together, or simply chill ambiently... the offer is always open!

... In full disclosure this took me a wretched amount of time to pull myself together to actually respond to.

(Its a long one, just a heads up. I do think its worth it though)

To say I was floored~ moved~ touched~ The words pale in comparison.

I believe the saying that a measure of someone being a good person is how they treat those that can do nothing for them.

And here I am, a stranger, being shown a kindness that I am not so sure I deserve but am grateful nonetheless.

To think that anyone, let alone all of you, amazing writers, artists, … people I respect and admire thought of me for even a moment to do something like this.

Depression- it holds me back a lot of the time.

It convinces me, like I am sure it does MANY of those readin' this, that your absence in this community, in this world, would not be felt.

There is a reason that I am a part of this community.

Its because it has a way of pulling together some of the most wonderful people I have ever had the pleasure of getting to know.

Now. I wanna return some of that kindness and talk specifically about the ones that pulled together to do this for me. (And also a few that are never far from my mind too)

@divinit3a

You are one of the only people I know that can just be there and your presence felt. Charismatic in the most brilliant way, I love the way your personality shines through everything you interact with (whether that be your writing or something as simple as a Tumblr post)

There is a reason that when you entered the community that people were drawn to you. You have an ability that is both captivating as it is striking in how powerful that magnetism is.

I am so grateful I get to know you, and I am so excited to see what else you create whether that be in this community or elsewhere.

I will always be a supporter, a fan, and most importantly a friend.

Read their stuff!

@midnight-mourning

Sometimes I get caught up in the fact I actually get to speak with the person who has wrote one of my favorite works on AO3.

I first stumbled upon your fic the day it was published and immediately fell in love with the snarky depiction of Sun (and the beautiful mysterious Moon) that you created in a world that has so much more left to be uncovered.

You manage to balance your life along side updating which in of itself seems like such a superpower that I envy to the core.

You also floored me with the kindness you've shown through out us chatting back and forth. Sometimes I feel just in awe that I can say we know eachother…

@luckyyyduckyyy

Talk about someone I've been actively following for awhile- Lucky, your ANE fanfic was one of the very first I read when stumbling upon the DCA community! It inspired me to take a chance at writing myself and posting it for the first time.

If I hadn't come across you- well, I wouldn't be here now… How do you even begin to pay that back?

I have no idea how I can thank you enough for doing that for me, let alone thank you for doing the above for me…

Its my hope that I get to continue to be friends with you, learn more from you and maybe one day manage to give back a fraction of what you've given me…

@soupdweller

AHH! Hi! So- I have no words but thank you.

I've admired your art for a very VERY long time and its such a cool, (and a bit) intimidating (but in a good way) gesture to have this coming from you too.

Your rendering is beautiful.

The way you laid out the DCA's internals still give me steampunk vibes in the BEST way with the colour palette~ I can gush forever but I also wanna seem cool and somewhat mysterious in that 'kinda quiet way'…

… I'll cut that out for now ^^

on a serious note, thank you, you don't know me very well but you still did this and what I mentioned before about the measure of being a good person- that describes you.

@wyervan

… Would it be weird for me to say that anytime I think of the DCA as humans I can't for the life of me not picture the AU forms that you created that has single handedly metamorphosized into a community Slasher Y/N multiverse?

That is an amazing talent, I am just in awe at what you've managed to not only do, but also how you've brought so many people together!

I have so much to say, and yet I don't wanna put my foot in my mouth by actually following through with the amount of admiration I wanna express.

Thank you for taking part in this for me, we don't really know each-other much just yet but I hope that changes. You seem like such an amazing person, I'd love to gossip about skinny, scrawny, somewhat unhinged guys with you sometime.

-

I have a few people I wanna shout out too

@amarynthian-chronicles:

Thank you for always supporting me, even when I don't think I deserve it. You've been an amazing person to me, and I hope I get more opportunities to return the favor

@gniteruirui

Gosh. You've been such a beautiful person to get to know this past year or so. Your artwork gives me life, and seeing your name pop up in all the ways it does makes me smile.

@lets-zofifi-stuff

I hope you continue to have more good days vs bad- I hope the sun shines on you and you always find random luck whenever its needed.

You were one of the first people I made friends with here on Tumblr… I may have also looked back and saw that you even made a post about me when I left Tumblr the first time.

@bubbiethesaur

I don't have enough words to express how much I adore you for just being you. Thank you, I hope I can be a friend that deserves you.

I just wanted to tag you- You are so talented, wonderful, and kind.

Something about you just makes me smile whenever I see your username come up. I've always wanted to get closer to you, friendship wise, but I also get scared because you're so cool.

I've been working on it.

Just know that our conversations in Qwille's discord have always been some of my favorite moments in this community.

@maldefekt

Thank you for reaching out to me- even that most recent time when you saved me from something I know would have haunted me forever!

I am looking forward to getting to know you more

[elizabethsnuts]

could you write something about hotchniss!reader on Christmas Day 🎄

Christmas Day

Hotchniss x Daughter!Reader

Summary: A look into the night of Christmas eve and Christmas morning for the Hotchniss family.

A/N: I was worried I wasn’t get this out on time but I did! Sort of, it’s the night of Christmas eve right now. Merry Christmas!!!!

———

It was finally that time of year, the time that every little boy and girl looked forward to, a morning full of presents and joy, the time when Santa Claus made his annual appearance. You were a bit too little to fully understand the concept of Christmas, only really knowing that supposedly someone was going to come during the night and drop off a bunch of presents. On the other hand, Jack was so excited he could barely sit still, he could barely wait for Christmas morning.

Aaron was currently cleaning up after dinner, loading the dishes into the dishwasher. Jack came running in excitedly, jumping up and down energetically. “Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Look at my PJs, look, look! Emily got them for me and I’m matching with Y/N!”

Aaron looked over his shoulder, seeing Jack rush in quickly, followed by Emily with you on her hip, wearing the same Christmas PJs as your older brother. “Oh look at those PJs! They’re definitely fit for Christmas Eve.”

You just saw all the excitement, wanting to join in on all the cheer. “Yayyy! Jammies!”

Emily laughed, stroking your hair softly, she knew you didn’t exactly know who Santa Claus was. “Yes, N/N, jammies! Are you excited for Christmas?”

You nodded at your mama, not even understanding what she was asking. “I ‘cited.”

Jack quickly chimed in, noticing it was getting darker outside. “We need to put out the carrots for the reindeer, Daddy! And give Santa his cookies! We have to, we have to, we have to!”

Aaron laughed, closing the dishwasher drawer and drying his hands off with a nearby towel. “Don’t worry, we’ll have time for carrots and cookies, we aren’t in any rush! It’s only 6:00!”

Emily and Aaron took the two of you outside so you could drop the carrots on the grass for the reindeer. You were not cooperating with putting your coat on, trying to stop Emily from putting it on you. “Mama, no coat.”

Emily sighed, still trying to wrangle your coat on your tiny frame. “Y/N, sweetheart, we can’t go outside without your coat, it’s too cold.”

Jack huffed impatiently, putting his hands on his cheeks. “N/N! You gotta hurry and put your coat on so the reindeer can eat tonight.”

You grumbled loudly when Emily managed to get you into the coat, zipping it up so it kept you warmer. Emily gave you an amused smile. “Why the grumpy face? That’s not the Christmas spirit, baby!”

You didn’t even care about the coat anymore, you gave Jack an eager smile, trying to match his. You took a bite of the carrot in your tiny hand, more interested in it being in your belly than giving it to the reindeer.

Jack laughed and tried to take the carrot out of your hands. “N/N, you can’t eat the carrots. They’re not for you! Emily she’s trying to eat all the reindeer’s carrots!”

Emily chuckled, standing up to grab a new carrot for the fridge. “It’s alright, Jack. We’ll get a new carrot out so Y/N can enjoy that one.”

Aaron smirked and opened the back door, taking your tiny hand in his. “Never seen a toddler willing eat carrots.”

You and Jack put out the carrots outside, going back inside and putting some cookies and milk on a plate out for Santa before watching Home Alone upon Jack’s adamant refusal to watch anything else. After lots of patience, pleading and soothing, maybe even a little bribing, Emily and Aaron had put Jack to bed. You were easier to put to sleep if that was possible, you weren’t squirming in excitement like Jack was and your crib kept you contained. Emily and Aaron were exhausted by the end of it.

The next morning, Jack was awake at the crack of dawn, running into Emily and Aaron’s room and jumping on their bed to wake them. “It’s Christmas! It’s Christmas! It’s Christmas! Wake up!”

Aaron let out a tired groan and reached up to catch Jack mid-jump. “Good morning, Buddy! Merry Christmas, maybe we could sleep for a little longer?”

Jack shook his head and laughed. “Merry Christmas! We can’t wait, we have to open them now!”

Aaron and Emily finally got up, Jack was already waiting downstairs in front of the Christmas tree. Emily gently woke you up, rubbing your tiny chest.

“Hey… it’s time to wake up sweet girl, it’s Christmas. Want to open some presents?”

You yawned tiredly and smiled, sitting up slowly. You giggled softly when you were reminded what day it was. “Christmas.”

Emily laughed, picking you up out of your crib and setting you on her hip. “Yeah, it is! Merry Christmas, gorgeous girl. Let’s go see what Santa brought you.”

Emily walked down the stairs, sitting you down next to Jack on the floor and sitting back on the couch. “Look at all these presents guys!”

Jack let out an excited squeal, almost not able to believe that it was Christmas. “Look! All these presents!”

Aaron chuckled, handing a present to you and Jack. “You guys must have been extra good this year.”

You grinned and held the present up. “I good!”

Aaron smiled and kissed your cheek. “Yes you are, you’re a very good girl.”

Jack immediately tore the wrapping paper off his present, letting out an excited gasp as he saw an action figure of his favourite superhero. “It’s Spiderman! Santa got me Spiderman!”

Aaron knew Jack would love that gift. He ruffled his son’s hair and smiled. “Ah look how cool that is, buddy! You’re a lucky boy!”

Emily was helping you unwrap your gift, peeling off the sticky tape for you. You immediately gasped when you saw what was inside. Emily grinned, looking down at you to see your face. “What did you get, sweetheart!?”

You giggled and pulled the wrapping paper away more, exposing the gift fully. Your face was filled with pure excitement. “Baby!”

Aaron chuckled, helping you take the doll out of the box. “Did you get a dolly, N/N?”

You nodded eagerly, standing up and cuddling the baby doll. “Baby!”

The rest of Christmas morning was filled with opening gifts, having gingerbread shaped pancakes for breakfast and singing Christmas songs before going out to lunch to celebrate the rest of Christmas with the BAU. Although not being able to fully understand Christmas, you still felt all the joy of everyone around you.

[bridgyrose]

Neo couldnt help but watch as the new girl to Lady Brownings was being bullied by a few of the older girls. It was a normal hazing process, but something about the girl kept her intrigued. Maybe it was her silver eyes or how young the girl was compared to everyone else. Either way, she wasnt going to watch the girl be bullied anymore.

She got up and made her way over to the girls and pushed them away from the new girl. She put herself in front of the girl and glared at the others. 

“And what are you going to do about it, Trivia?” one of the girls asked. 

Neo raised a fist, then lowered it with a smirk. The smirk changed to a smile as she stuck out her tongue as she made a snipping motion with her fingers as she stared at the girls. 

The lead girl scoffed and walked away. “Freak.” 

Neo stopped and lowered her fingers, turning to the girl that she had just saved. It was almost like looking at a mirror and seeing her younger self. Scared, weak, out of place… needing someone to step in and help. 

She knelt down and pulled out her scroll, typing quickly before showing the girl her question. “Are you okay?” 

The girl flinched before looking at the scroll and gave a nervous nod. “I-I am. Thank… thank you for helping me.” 

Neo nodded, erased her message, and typed a new one. “It gets easier.” 

“I’m not sure it ever does. Its not the first time someone bullied me because of my eyes. They’re strange enough for the color.” 

A frown crossed Neo’s lips, familiar with what the girl had been going through. She still wore the contact to give her pink eye a brown color because of her parents, but hearing that another person was going through the same torment… this wasnt something she could allow slide. Instead, she’d be the person this girl… no, her younger self, needed. A mentor. A friend.

She offered a hand to the girl and signed to the girl. “What is your name?” 

“Ruby,” Ruby answered as she took Neo’s hand. “Ruby Rose.” 

Neo flashed a smile at Ruby, her fingers moving slower “I would like to be your friend.” 

Ruby smiled. “I’d like that.” 

Neo helped Ruby up and started to walk her to the dorm. 

The weeks went by and Neo and Ruby became practically inseparable. Neo helped Ruby study, train, get used to the etiquette classes… everything that she needed to succeed. A smile crossed her lips as she watched her pick up on her lessons quickly, and even more proud as she found Ruby quickly becoming top of her class. 

She lowered her weapon with a smile as she panted, glancing at her aura. Ruby had done better, bringing her aura down into the yellow and starting to see through her tricks. She started to sign, her fingers relaxed. “You’re improving.” 

“It doesnt feel like I am,” Ruby said as she picked herself up. “I still didnt win and you’re still wiping the floor with me.”

“I’ve had some of the best tutors to train me when I was younger, but you’ll get there.” 

“Then maybe I’ll get you next time.”

Next time. Neo paused and looked at her scroll, her fingers shaking as she held it. When would next time be? She was only here until she could find the time to leave and to help Roman. And then there was Lady Beat and that room she seemed to disappear to… so many questions that needed answers. 

Ruby put a hand on Neo’s shoulder. “Everything alright?” 

Neo nodded and gave her a smile. “I’m not sure when next time will be. I will be going out tonight-” 

“Then let me come with you.” 

Neo paused. “Come with me?” 

“Yes, I can come with you. And then we can train when we have time-” 

“You’ll get in trouble if you follow me. And besides, what I’m going to do tonight will be dangerous.” 

“And I dont want to be left alone again!” 

Neo lowered her hands for a moment as she took a good look at Ruby. There was a sadness in her eyes that she hadnt noticed until now, not too unfamiliar to what she’d seen in her own eyes before meeting Roman. She signed once more, trying to understand. “What do you mean ‘again’?”

Ruby looked away as if she wanted to hide the pain she felt, her body trembled as she held her arm to her chest. “Dad… wasnt given a choice. Someone from the village we lived in called to check in on my sister and I while he was at work. It wasnt something he did often, but this time was different because of grimm sightings nearby. Yang had been attending Signal and was trained to start fighting grimm, but that didnt matter. In the end, it was either we were to be  sent to boarding school or taken away from him. So, he chose to send us here. Until Yang fought back. She was taken away and I… I was sent here. To keep me out of trouble.” 

Neo nodded as she listened to the story, her own heart felt like it was starting to break. While it wasnt the same reason she was sent to Lady Brownings, it certainly hurt to hear what Ruby had gone through. She walked over to Ruby and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder to comfort her, a smile crossing her lips. 

Ruby wiped a few tears away from her eyes. “Please, let me come with you.” 

“We leave tonight. But first, I have something I need to check,”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Everything had happened so quickly, and yet, she had never felt so… satisfied. A year had passed since her family’s manor had burned down along with her parents inside of it, Lady Browning’s Preparatory Academy had been shut down, and now she was free to be with Ruby and Roman. And yet, even in that satisfaction, she couldnt help but feel like something was missing.

“Roman told me I’d be able to find you here,” Ruby said as she sat down on the rooftop next to Neo. “We were supposed to train tonight.” 

“I’m sorry I missed it,” Neo signed as she kept her eyes towards the city. “I needed to think.” 

“Think about what?” 

“What I want to do.” 

“I thought you already knew what you wanted to do. Its why we’re still with Roman, isnt it?”

Neo shrugged and looked over at Ruby. She had dragged her into a life of crime, and yet, Ruby didnt seem to look disappointed in it as long as it meant trying to find her sister. But as she stared into the eyes of her friend, of the girl she was starting to love, the doubts had started to fade. 

Ruby smiled and got up. “I know what’ll make you happy. There’s a dust shop not too far away that we can go rob with Roman’s help.” 

“Are you sure?” Neo signed slowly.

“Of course. And I can get some stealth practice like you keep asking me to.” 

Neo smiled and nodded. “Sure.” 

“Great! I’ll go get him!” 

Neo couldnt help but watch as Ruby jumped down the building, red-lined black cloak fluttering in the wind before she turned into a flurry of petals. Her heart fluttered and she stood up to look over Vale once more. There was nothing more that she wanted in this world than to be with Roman and Ruby, no matter what it was that they wanted. She shattered piece by piece with her own semblance, ready to meet her partners on the street.