#so sorry this took so long but hopefully it works

[rootedinrevisions]

A Holiday to Remember

SUMMARY: When plans with your family fall through, an unexpected invitation leads you to spending Christmas with Glen - and his lively, close-knit family. You find yourself swept up in the warmth of holiday traditions and the undeniable pull of a connection you never saw coming. Between stolen moments under twinkling lights and whispered confessions, the boundaries of friendship blur, leaving you to wonder if this Christmas could be the start of something extraordinary or just a fleeting holiday dream.

A/N: So I was hoping to have this out before or on Christmas but then I got writer's block and struggled to finish it. And then I got inspiration...maybe too much inspiration. I watched Anyone But You and then a couple Hallmark movies so this definitely has a rom-com/cheesy Hallmark vibe to it. That's also why this is so long because as I was watching those movies I got ideas for moments to add to the story. But hopefully you all enjoy this!

WARNINGS: Some light cursing, maybe? Otherwise I don't think there's any warnings. Just 17k words of cute fluffy wholesomeness.

WORD COUNT: 17.5k (I got a little carried away with this one.)

TAGS: In Comments

The warm glow of string lights hung delicately along the restaurant's windows, casting a cozy hue on the bustling Los Angeles sidewalk. You took a deep breath, smoothing your sweater as you stepped inside, the gentle hum of conversation and clinking glasses enveloping you.

Approaching the host stand, you offered a polite smile. "Hi, I’m here for Glen Powell’s reservation."

The host, a young woman with a sleek bob and a professional smile, glanced at her list before nodding. "Of course. Right this way." She grabbed a menu and gestured for you to follow her through the dimly lit dining room.

As you weaved between tables, your nerves fluttered faintly, though you weren’t sure why. It wasn’t like this was anything new—just dinner with Glen. Something you’d done dozens of times.

The host led you to a table tucked in the back corner, offering a little more privacy from the busy main floor. Glen spotted you almost immediately. He set his phone down and stood up, his familiar, easy grin spreading across his face as he opened his arms.

“There she is,” he said warmly, pulling you into a hug as soon as you reached him. His cologne—a blend of something woodsy and clean—wrapped around you, as comforting as the embrace itself.

“Sorry I’m late,” you murmured against his shoulder before pulling back. “Traffic was a nightmare.”

He waved off your apology as you both sat down, his smile never faltering. “You’re in L.A.—isn’t traffic always a nightmare?” He leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on the edge of the table. “Besides, you’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”

The way his gaze lingered on you for just a second too long made your stomach flutter, but you quickly pushed the feeling aside. It was Glen, your friend. Nothing more.

You picked up the menu and skimmed over the options, even though you weren’t really focusing on the words. Glen sat across from you, flipping his own menu open but still managing to glance your way every few moments.

“So,” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence. “How’s the movie coming along? Are you still filming, or are you finally getting some time to breathe?”

Glen chuckled softly, setting the menu down as he leaned back in his chair. “We wrapped a few days ago, actually. Post-production is in full swing now, so it’s out of my hands now. Now I can take a break and get some normalcy.”

“Normalcy,” you repeated, arching an eyebrow. “For you, that probably means jetting off somewhere, doesn’t it?”

He smirked, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Okay, maybe my version of ‘normal’ is a little skewed. But I’m just going back to Austin for a few days. Nothing too crazy. What about you? How’s work? Are they letting you off the hook at all this holiday season?”

You sighed, your eyes drifting back to the menu as you tried to keep your voice light. “It’s fine. Busy, as always. But I guess that’s better than having nothing to do, right?”

He frowned slightly, studying you with an intensity that made you squirm just a little. “You sure you’re doing okay?”

“Yeah,” you said quickly, forcing a smile. “I’m good. It’s just—work has been hectic, and I haven’t really had time to think about the holidays.”

His brow furrowed. “Wait. Don’t tell me you’re not going home for Christmas.”

You hesitated, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “It’s just… complicated,” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “My family’s so far away, and with work, I just couldn’t make the timing work. So, yeah, I’ll be here this year. But it’s not a big deal.”

Glen’s jaw tightened, and you could practically see the wheels turning in his head. “You’re spending Christmas alone?”

You shrugged, trying to play it off. “I’ll survive.”

“No way,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “That’s not happening.”

You blinked, startled by his sudden intensity. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re coming with me,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “To Texas. You can’t spend Christmas alone—that’s just… wrong.”

“Glen,” you began, already shaking your head. “I can’t just crash your family’s holiday. That’s not fair to them—or to you.”

“They’d love you,” he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And it’s not crashing if you’re invited. Which you are. Officially. Come on, what’s holding you back?”

You opened your mouth to protest again, but the way he was looking at you—earnest, determined, like he wouldn’t take no for an answer—made the words catch in your throat.

“It’s just a couple of days,” he added, his voice softening now. “And I promise, it’ll be fun. Think of it as an adventure.”

You hesitated, your resolve wavering under the weight of his sincerity. Maybe, just maybe, he was right.

“Glen, I can’t just pack up and leave,” you said, trying to keep your tone firm. “I only have a couple of days off for the holiday, and—”

“Perfect,” he interrupted with a grin. “I’m only staying three days anyway. We’ll head out the morning of the 23rd, and we’ll be back by the 26th.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “It’s not that simple. Do you know how expensive last-minute flights are right now? Not to mention the hassle of even finding one—everything’s probably booked solid.”

His grin didn’t falter. “I’ll help you find a flight. Hell, I’ll even cover it if that’s what’s holding you back.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Glen, no. You’re not paying for my ticket.”

“Why not? Consider it my Christmas gift to you,” he said, leaning back in his chair with a casual shrug, as if he hadn’t just offered something outrageous.

You scoffed. “You’re insane.”

“I’m resourceful,” he corrected, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “And if it really comes down to it, I’ll fly you there myself.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking your head. “Now that seems like a gross misuse of your pilot’s license.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” he said with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes, but his determination was starting to chip away at your defenses. “Glen, I appreciate the offer, but I really don’t want to intrude on your family’s holiday. It’s their time with you, and I’d just be—”

“A welcome guest,” he cut in, his voice softer now. “Trust me, they’d love to have you there. My mom’s been asking when she’s going to meet my mysterious ‘friend’ I talk about anyway. This is the perfect chance.”

Your cheeks warmed at that, and you looked away, suddenly very interested in the pattern on your napkin. “I don’t know…”

“Come on,” he urged, leaning forward and resting his forearms on the table. “It’ll be fun. You’ll get to relax, eat some great food, and experience the chaos that is my family at Christmas. What do you have to lose?”

You sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to let this go. “What about the fact that I’ll probably end up sharing a room with one of your nieces or sleeping on the couch? Not exactly my idea of a restful holiday.”

“Wrong again,” he said with a triumphant grin. “We will be staying at my place. I have plenty of space. I’ll even take the couch if you want the nice bed.”

You laughed despite yourself, the mental image of Glen curled up on his own couch making it impossible to stay serious. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re running out of excuses,” he pointed out, his grin widening. “So? What’s it going to be?”

You hesitated, your gaze meeting his. There was something in his eyes—an openness, a genuine warmth—that made it hard to say no.

“Fine,” you said finally, throwing your hands up in defeat. “You win. I’ll go.”

His face lit up, and he reached across the table to squeeze your hand. “You won’t regret it. I promise.”

“You’d better be right,” you teased, though you couldn’t help but smile back at him.

* * * * *

The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow across the Austin skyline as Glen navigated the bustling city streets, the hum of his truck filling the comfortable silence. You sat quietly in the passenger seat, staring out the window at the vibrant murals and quirky storefronts that zipped past. Normally, you’d be chatting nonstop, asking Glen a million questions about the city or teasing him about his questionable playlist choices. But now, your hands fidgeted in your lap, and your lips pressed into a thin line, your mind elsewhere.

“You’re kind of quiet over there. You’ve said about five words since we got here,” Glen remarked, his voice light but tinged with curiosity. He glanced at you briefly, his brows furrowing in concern before turning his attention back to the road. “That’s gotta be some kind of record for you.”

You blinked, his comment pulling you from your thoughts. Turning to face him, you tried to muster a small smile. “Sorry. Just... a lot on my mind, I guess.”

Glen didn’t look convinced. “Uh-huh,” he said, his tone skeptical. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with meeting my family, would it?”

You sighed, leaning your head back against the seat. “Maybe a little.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Relax! You’ve got nothing to worry about, you know. They’re going to love you. I’m the one they’re stuck with, remember?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, but the sound was short-lived. “It’s not that I’m worried they won’t like me,” you admitted. “It’s just... I don’t know. What if I say something dumb? Or trip over the Christmas tree? Or—”

“Hey,” Glen interrupted, his voice gentle. At a red light, he reached over and placed a warm hand on your knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You’re overthinking this. My family’s not expecting perfection, okay? They’re just excited to meet the person I’ve been talking about nonstop for the last couple of months.”

Your eyes widened at his confession, heat rushing to your cheeks. “You’ve been talking about me?”

Glen grinned, the light turning green as he started driving again. “Obviously. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t brag about how great you are?” He paused, then added with a teasing smirk, “Although I may have left out the part where you can’t handle spicy food. Don’t let my mom’s salsa scare you off, alright?”

That earned a genuine laugh from you, and Glen shot you a quick, satisfied look before turning his attention back to the road.

As the city gave way to sprawling suburbs and then the open, winding roads on the edge of Austin, Glen’s demeanor remained steady—calm, reassuring, and lighthearted. He pointed out landmarks along the way, sharing stories about his time growing up in the area and cracking jokes to pull you out of your nervous headspace.

“You doing okay over there?” he asked after a while, glancing at you again.

“Yeah,” you said softly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Thanks for putting up with me.”

“Putting up with you?” Glen repeated, feigning offense. “You think I invited you out here because I had to? Please.”

The sincerity in his tone caught you off guard, your heart skipping a beat. Before you could dwell on it too much, Glen reached over to nudge your shoulder playfully. 

“Seriously, relax,” he said with a grin. “You’ll fit right in. And if anyone gives you a hard time, they’ll have to answer to me.”

You smiled at that, the knot in your stomach loosening slightly. Glen had a way of making you feel like everything was going to be okay, even when your own thoughts tried to convince you otherwise.

When he finally pulled into the gravel driveway of his house, nestled on a quiet piece of land just outside the city, the sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Glen parked the truck and turned to you with an encouraging smile.

“Alright,” he said, unbuckling his seatbelt. “First stop: my place. Let’s drop off your stuff and then we’ll head over to my parents’ house. Sound good?”

“Yeah,” you said, taking a deep breath as you climbed out of the truck. “Sounds good.”

Glen led the way up the front porch steps, his boots thudding lightly against the wood. He unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping aside to let you enter first.

“Welcome to Casa de Glen,” he said with a grin, sweeping his arm theatrically as you stepped inside.

The interior was exactly what you’d imagined—a perfect blend of cozy and modern. Warm wood floors stretched throughout the open-concept space, and the living room featured a large leather couch and a stone fireplace that was clearly the centerpiece of the room. A framed poster of Top Gun: Maverick hung on one wall, balanced by shelves filled with books, photos, and a few sports trophies.

“Wow,” you said, taking it all in. “It’s nice. It feels... you.”

“That’s what I was going for,” he said, closing the door behind you. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

He guided you through the living room and into the kitchen, which was sleek and modern with stainless steel appliances and a large island in the center. “This is where the magic happens,” he said, patting the countertop. “By magic, I mean reheating leftovers and making the occasional breakfast taco.”

You laughed, running your hand along the cool stone of the counter. “Very impressive.”

He pointed out a small office that doubled as a gym, then led you to the back door, which opened onto a sprawling patio overlooking a modest backyard. Twinkling string lights were strung across the patio, and a firepit sat off to the side, surrounded by chairs.

“This is great,” you said, stepping out onto the patio and taking in the peaceful view.

“It’s my favorite spot,” Glen admitted, leaning against the doorframe. “If you need to escape the chaos over the next few days, feel free to sneak out here.”

The offer warmed your heart, but before you could respond, Glen pushed off the doorframe and motioned back inside. “Come on, let’s get your bags upstairs.”

He carried your suitcase up the staircase, which was adorned with simple but tasteful decorations—a mix of family photos, framed movie posters, and a few awards he’d picked up over the years. At the top of the stairs, he turned to the left and opened a door.

“This is the guest room,” he said, stepping aside to let you enter.

The room was cozy, with a plush queen-sized bed covered in a navy-blue comforter, a small desk by the window, and a few decorative touches that made it feel welcoming—a basket of rolled-up blankets, a lamp with a warm glow, and a stack of books on the nightstand.

“This is nice,” you said, setting your carry-on bag down by the bed.

“I figured you’d want your own space,” Glen said, setting your suitcase by the desk. “Bathroom’s just down the hall, and there are extra towels in the closet if you need them.”

“Thanks,” you said softly, meeting his eyes.

He hesitated for a moment, as if debating whether to say something, before giving you a small smile. “Alright, let me show you the rest of the upstairs.”

You followed him back out into the hall, where he pointed out the bathroom and a smaller guest room that had been converted into a second office. Finally, he led you to the master bedroom at the end of the hall.

“And this is where the magic really happens,” he joked, pushing open the door to reveal a spacious room with a king-sized bed, a walk-in closet, and a sliding door that led to a private balcony.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “You and your magic. I’m starting to think you have a pretty loose definition of the word.”

“Hey, I have my moments,” he said with a wink.

He led you back downstairs, where the tour ended in the living room. “Alright, that’s the grand tour,” he said, clapping his hands together. “What do you think?”

“It’s great,” you said honestly. “It feels very...you. Like even if I didn’t know this was your house I could see you fitting in here.”

And you meant it. You’d been to Glen’s place in Los Angeles before. And it was comfortable and fine enough. But it felt more like a bachelor pad. But this house here in Austin felt like him. It felt like home.

“Good,” he said, his smile softening. “I’m glad you like it. Now, you ready to meet the chaos that is my family?”

Your stomach flipped nervously, but Glen’s easy smile was enough to settle you. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” you said.

“Perfect,” he said, grabbing his keys off the counter. “Let’s do this.”

*****

The truck rumbled to a stop in front of the charming two-story house, its exterior painted a warm cream color with dark green shutters. Wreaths adorned the windows, and strings of twinkling lights outlined the roof, giving it a postcard-worthy holiday glow. Glen shifted the truck into park, but before he could even cut the engine, the front door burst open, and a wave of people spilled out onto the porch.

“Here we go,” Glen muttered with a grin, glancing at you. “Brace yourself.”

Your heart raced as his mom was the first to step forward, her arms already open as she made her way down the steps. Cyndy Powell was the picture of warmth, her hair perfectly styled, and her face glowing with excitement. Behind her, Glen’s dad, Glen Sr., stood with an easygoing smile, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. His sisters weren’t far behind—Leslie, the youngest, bounced on her toes with a wide grin, while Lauren, the oldest, followed at a more measured pace, one hand gripping the tiny hand of Glen’s nephew. Glen’s niece trailed behind, clinging to Lauren’s husband.

“Glen!” Cyndy called, waving both hands like she hadn’t seen her son in years, even though he’d assured you it had only been a couple of weeks.

You opened your door cautiously as Glen hopped out of the truck, meeting his mom halfway with a hug. 

“Hey, Mom,” he said, his voice filled with affection.

Cyndy pulled back just enough to cup his face. “You look too thin,” she said, making him laugh. “Are you eating?”

“I’m fine, Mom,” Glen assured her, glancing over his shoulder at you.

You hesitated for half a second before stepping out of the truck, suddenly feeling like every pair of eyes was on you. Cyndy’s expression shifted immediately to one of pure delight as she made a beeline for you.

“And you must be the one Glen keeps telling us about!” she said, pulling you into a hug before you could even respond. “Oh, it’s so good to finally meet you. I’m Cyndy.”

“Hi, Mrs. Powell,” you managed, your voice slightly muffled by the hug. “It’s really nice to meet you, too.”

“Oh, please, call me Cyndy,” she insisted, pulling back to hold you at arm’s length. “You’re even prettier than Glen said.”

“Mom,” Glen groaned, rubbing the back of his neck as he came to stand beside you.

“What?” Cyndy said innocently before ushering you both toward the rest of the group. “Come on, everyone’s dying to meet her.”

One by one, you were introduced—Glen Sr., who gave you a firm handshake and a kind smile; Leslie, who immediately wrapped you in a hug and declared you were “way too cool to be hanging out with Glen”; Lauren, who gave you a warm smile and said she’d heard so much about you; and finally, Lauren’s twins, who peeked out from behind their dad shyly until Glen crouched down to scoop them up in a playful hug.

“Alright, alright,” Glen said, standing with a twin on each hip as he turned back to his family. “Let her breathe, would you? She’s not used to all this chaos.”

“Chaos?” Cyndy said, feigning offense. “This is love, Glen. Pure holiday love.”

You laughed, but Glen caught the way your shoulders tensed, and he stepped closer, his hand resting lightly on your lower back. “You okay?” he asked softly, his tone just for you.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, offering him a reassuring smile. “It’s just... a lot.”

“Don’t worry,” he said with a wink. “I’ll run interference if I have to.”

Before you could respond, Cyndy was ushering everyone inside, rattling off questions about the drive and insisting you must be starving after traveling all day. You followed the group into the house, which was every bit as welcoming as its exterior—soft, cozy furniture, a roaring fire in the living room, and the scent of something sweet wafting from the kitchen.

You shrugged out of your coat and Glen stepped closer, his hands brushing against your shoulders as he helped slide it off. The gesture was so natural, so easy, that it sent a little flutter through your chest.

“Here, I’ll take that.” His voice was casual, but the faint smile he gave you as he carefully hung your coat on the rack was anything but.

As he turned back to you, Cyndy leaned in with a knowing smile, her voice low enough that only you could hear. “He’s been so excited to bring you home. You should’ve heard him talk about it.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the comment, your cheeks warming as her words sank in. “Oh,” you managed, a little breathless.

Cyndy’s hand lingered on your arm for just a moment, her expression soft with unmistakable affection. “You’ll see,” she added with a wink, before stepping away to call to her husband about something in the kitchen.

When you turned back to Glen, he was watching you, his head tilted slightly. “What was that about?” he asked, his tone light but his curiosity clear.

“Oh, nothing,” you said quickly, trying to wave it off. But you couldn’t quite keep the smile from tugging at your lips—or the slight flush from creeping up your neck.

Glen’s eyes narrowed playfully. “Uh-huh. Sure.” He didn’t push, though, instead gesturing for you to follow him. “Come on. Let’s grab something to drink before everyone starts peppering you with questions.”

The moment lingered as you followed him into the house, Cyndy’s words echoing in your mind. The idea of Glen talking about you—being excited to bring you here—was hard to shake. Maybe it was just his family’s charm, or maybe it was something else entirely. Either way, you couldn’t help the quiet smile that stayed on your face as Glen led the way.

* * * * *

With a steaming mug of cocoa warming your hands, you smiled politely as Glen's mom chatted animatedly about the Powell family Christmas traditions. You nodded along, but the flurry of introductions and the cozy chaos of his family had you feeling a little overwhelmed. Sensing your chance for a breather, you leaned toward Glen.

“Excuse me for a minute,” you murmured, setting your mug down on the counter.

He shot you a curious look but nodded, letting you slip away.

You wandered down the hall, grateful for the moment to collect yourself. After freshening up in the restroom, you made your way back toward the kitchen, but you stopped short as voices drifted toward you from the other side of the doorway.

“...she’s adorable, Glen. Seriously,” one of his sisters—Lauren, you thought—said with a teasing lilt.

“And you brought her home for Christmas?” Leslie chimed in, her voice lilting with mock surprise.

Glen groaned, and you could practically hear him rubbing his hand over his face. “Guys, come on. We’re just friends.”

“Right,” Lauren said, drawing the word out like she didn’t believe him for a second. “Just friends, and yet you insisted she come here instead of spending Christmas alone. Sounds like something a boyfriend would do, don’t you think, Les?”

“Definitely boyfriend behavior,” Leslie agreed, clearly enjoying herself.

“You two are impossible,” Glen muttered, though his tone carried more amusement than frustration. “I didn’t want her to spend the holidays alone, okay?”

Your breath caught at his words, warmth spreading through your chest.

“Sure, sure,” Lauren said, her tone sly. “But just so you know, Mom’s already planning the wedding.”

Glen let out a sharp laugh. “There isn’t going to be a wedding. Let’s dial it back a little, huh? She’s nervous enough as it is without you two scaring her off.”

You took a step back, considering whether to linger a moment longer, but the sound of chairs scraping against the floor signaled that Glen’s sisters were on the move. Quickly, you stepped into the doorway, pretending you hadn’t heard a thing.

“Oh, there she is,” Leslie said with a grin as she and Lauren passed you.

Glen leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, his brow lifting as you stepped inside. “You okay?” he asked, his voice soft and genuine.

You nodded, though your gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than you intended. “Yeah, just needed a minute. Your family’s really nice, by the way.”

A small smile tugged at his lips. “They’re a handful, but they mean well.”

You walked over to retrieve your cocoa, the rich chocolate aroma grounding you. “They seem really excited to have everyone together.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of their thing,” Glen said, watching you closely. “What about you? You hanging in there?”

You shrugged lightly, a small smile playing at your lips. “It’s a lot, but… in a good way. It’s been a while since I’ve been around a big family like this.”

Glen straightened, stepping closer so his arm brushed against yours. “Well, they already love you.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. His grin widened, but before he could say more, his mom’s voice rang out from the living room, calling for him to help bring in the extra chairs for dinner.

He sighed dramatically, earning another laugh from you. “Duty calls,” he said, but his hand lightly touched your arm as he passed. “Don’t let them rope you into anything too crazy while I’m gone.”

You smiled, watching as he left the room. Something about being here—with him—felt unexpectedly right.

* * * * *

The kitchen buzzed with activity as Glen’s mom and sisters dove into dinner preparations. The smell of roasted turkey and fresh-baked rolls filled the air, making your stomach rumble despite the cocoa you’d just finished. Cyndy was meticulously checking the oven temperature, while Lauren and Leslie were chopping vegetables at the kitchen island.

“Need any help?” you asked hesitantly, stepping further into the room.

Lauren glanced up with a warm smile. “You’re sweet to offer, but trust me, this kitchen is already at max capacity.”

“Speak for yourself,” Leslie said, pointing her knife toward the pile of unpeeled carrots. “Here, grab a peeler. You can help me out before Mom has a meltdown over the timing.”

Cyndy turned from the oven, mock-offended. “I heard that!”

Leslie just smirked as she handed you a peeler and a couple of carrots. “Ignore her. She loves when we tease her. Keeps things interesting.”

You laughed softly and settled in next to Leslie, grateful for something to do with your hands.

“So, how are you holding up?” Leslie asked after a moment, her voice quieter, more personal.

You glanced at her, surprised by the question. “Oh, um… good, I think. Your family’s been really welcoming.”

“We’re loud, though,” Lauren chimed in, pausing her slicing to grin at you. “Hopefully Glen warned you about that.”

“It’s a good kind of loud,” you said honestly, feeling more at ease with them. “I’m just… not used to it, I guess.”

Leslie nudged you lightly with her elbow. “Well, if you can survive the Powell family Christmas chaos, you’re pretty much invincible.”

“Noted,” you said with a laugh, peeling another carrot.

Lauren tilted her head, studying you curiously. “So, how did you and Glen meet, anyway?”

You hesitated, glancing toward the doorway like Glen might walk in and save you. “We met through mutual friends,” you said carefully. “It’s kind of a long story, but we just… clicked, I guess.”

Leslie smirked, clearly enjoying the topic. “Clicked, huh? Like, just friends clicked? Or ‘maybe there’s something more’ clicked?”

Heat rose to your cheeks, and you focused intently on the carrot in your hand. “Definitely just friends,” you said quickly, your voice a little too firm.

“Hmm,” Lauren said, exchanging a look with Leslie.

Before they could press further, Glen walked in, carrying a couple of folding chairs from the garage. He stopped short when he noticed the three of you huddled together.

“What’s going on in here?” he asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as he set the chairs against the wall.

“Nothing,” Lauren said, her voice entirely too innocent.

Leslie shrugged. “Just getting to know your friend.”

Glen sighed, giving his sisters a pointed look before turning to you. “Don’t let them gang up on you. They’re relentless once they get started.”

“I think I’m holding my own,” you said with a small smile, though you were grateful for his presence.

“Good,” Glen said, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. “Because dinner’s almost ready, and if they scare you off before dessert, Mom’s going to kill them.”

The laughter that followed eased the lingering tension, and for the first time since you’d arrived, you felt like you were starting to find your footing amidst the whirlwind of the Powell family.

“Alright,” Cyndy said, clapping her hands together. “Let’s get everything to the table before it gets cold.”

The dining room table was a feast for the senses. Platters of turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and roasted vegetables were arranged in the center, surrounded by bowls of cranberry sauce, rolls, and casseroles. Soft holiday music played in the background, and the warm glow of the chandelier added to the cozy atmosphere.

You found yourself seated between Glen and Lauren, while the twins took turns giggling and sneaking bites of their food despite their mom’s warnings to “at least wait for everyone to get their plate.”

The conversation started casually, with everyone complimenting Cyndy’s cooking and trading jokes about who had eaten the most last Christmas. It wasn’t long before the table was buzzing with overlapping chatter and bursts of laughter.

“So, what’s everyone’s plans for New Year’s?” Lauren asked as she helped her daughter cut her turkey into smaller pieces.

“Will and I are thinking of taking the kids to the park downtown for the fireworks,” Lauren said. “What about you, Glen?”

Glen shrugged, reaching for the mashed potatoes. “Haven’t decided yet. Depends on if this one’s dragging me somewhere” He nudged your shoulder with a playful grin.

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’m not dragging you to anything. You keep inviting yourself to my plans.”

“Semantics,” he quipped, earning a chuckle from Leslie.

Cyndy, ever the gracious host, leaned toward you with a warm smile. “So, what do you usually do for the holidays with your family?”

You hesitated for a moment, caught off guard by the question. “Well, when I can make it home, we usually have a quiet Christmas. Just my parents and my siblings. Lots of food, games, and, uh, my mom’s famous fudge.”

“That sounds lovely,” Cyndy said, her tone genuine. “You’ll have to share the fudge recipe sometime. Maybe we’ll add it to our dessert rotation next year.”

“I’d love to,” you said, feeling a little more at ease.

Throughout dinner, Glen made sure to keep you involved in the conversation, throwing in lighthearted jokes and even sharing an embarrassing story from high school that had everyone in stitches.

“Remember when Glen tried to sing karaoke at the Christmas talent show?” Leslie said, her face lighting up with glee.

“Oh, no,” Glen groaned, burying his face in his hands.

Lauren jumped in. “He thought he could hit the high notes in ‘All I Want for Christmas Is You.’ Spoiler alert: he couldn’t.”

The table erupted in laughter, and even you couldn’t hold back a giggle. Glen peeked at you through his fingers, feigning betrayal.

“Sorry,” you said between laughs. “But I need to hear this someday.”

“Not happening,” Glen said firmly, shaking his head.

By the time dessert was served—a towering plate of Cyndy’s homemade pecan pie—you were full, content, and starting to see why Glen loved spending the holidays here so much.

After dinner, the energy in the house began to settle. The twins had all but fallen asleep at the table, and Lauren and her husband said their goodbyes, bundling their sleepy children into coats before heading out for the night.

“I’ll see you both tomorrow,” Lauren said, pulling you into a warm hug. “You did great tonight. Don’t let these guys scare you off.” She winked, glancing briefly at Glen.

With the house quieter, you, Glen, and Leslie remained behind to spend a little more time with his parents. Cyndy brought out another round of cocoa, insisting on adding an extra dollop of whipped cream for everyone.

The fire in the living room had burned low, but Glen Sr. stoked it back to life, filling the room with a warm glow. You took a seat on the couch near the hearth, your fingers curling around the mug of cocoa as you soaked in the comforting crackle of the flames.

The warmth of the fire helped, but the Texas winter chill still lingered, and you found yourself shivering slightly as you sipped your drink.

Glen, sitting in an armchair nearby, noticed immediately. Without a word, he stood and grabbed a thick, soft blanket draped over the back of the couch. Crossing the room, he carefully draped it over your shoulders, his hands lingering for a moment to ensure it was snug around you.

“Better?” he asked softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You nodded, your heart warming at the small, thoughtful gesture. “Much better. Thank you.”

Instead of returning to his chair, Glen sat down beside you on the couch, the corner of the blanket brushing against his arm as he stretched out. The closeness was both comforting and a little distracting, the ease of his presence pulling you further into the moment.

Across the room, Cyndy and Glen Sr. shared a knowing look, their quiet conversation halting as they observed the two of you. Leslie, seated in the armchair Glen had vacated, leaned over to whisper something to her mom, her expression amused.

Glen Sr. gave a subtle shake of his head, murmuring something you couldn’t quite catch, though his tone held a hint of playful exasperation.

The whispers and exchanged glances didn’t go unnoticed by Glen, who shot his sister a pointed look. “You guys good over there?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Totally,” Leslie replied, a little too quickly, her smile innocent in a way that wasn’t fooling anyone. “Just enjoying the show.”

You glanced between them, confused. “What show?”

“Nothing!” Cyndy said quickly, her tone light but clearly trying to steer the conversation away. “It’s just nice to see Glen bringing a friend home for the holidays.”

You felt your cheeks warm under her gaze, and Glen let out a small sigh, clearly used to his family’s antics.

“Alright, that’s enough,” he said, though his tone was more amused than annoyed.

Leslie smirked but didn’t push further, and Cyndy changed the subject to talk about the Powell family’s Christmas morning traditions.

The room was dimly lit, the fire crackling softly in the background. The evening had settle dinto a quiet calm, with Glen sitting on the couch, his arm stretched across the backrest. Despite your best efforts to stay engaged in the chatter between Glen and his family, your eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment.

Cyndy and Leslie paused mid conversation when they noticed you were asleep. Your breathing was slow and even, your head nestled against Glen like it was the most natural thing in the world. Cyndy and Leslie exchanged a look, both already grinning.

“She’s so sweet,” Cyndy whispered, her voice barely above the crackling of the fire.

“And you’re adorable together,” Leslie added, leaning closer to her mom as if she were sharing a juicy secret.

Glen’s eyes flicked toward them, his lips tugging into a faint, knowing smirk. “We’re just friends,” he said, keeping his voice low to avoid disturbing you.

Leslie arched a brow. “Sure, you are,” she teased, crossing her arms. “Because friends totally look at each other like that.”

“What are you even talking about?” Glen asked, rolling his eyes, though his free hand instinctively adjusted the blanket draped over you, tucking it more securely around your shoulders. You stirred slightly, leaning into him more, and his arm moved without hesitation, wrapping lightly around you to keep you comfortable.

“Like that,” Leslie said pointedly, gesturing at him with a playful smirk.

Cyndy’s eyes were full of warmth as she added, “Leslie’s right, honey. It’s the way you look at her. Like she’s the only person in the room.”

Glen sighed, running a hand through your hair but careful not to jostle you. “I’ve thought about it,” he admitted softly, his gaze dropping to you as you slept peacefully against him. “Probably more than I should have.”

Leslie’s teasing grin shifted into genuine curiosity. “So what’s stopping you?”

“It’s not the right time,” Glen said, his voice low but thoughtful. “My schedule’s insane. The next six to eight months are booked solid with filming, press tours… I’d barely be around. Starting something with her when I know I don’t have the time to make it work or for it to be healthy? It doesn’t feel fair to her. Or to me.”

Cyndy tilted her head, her brows furrowed slightly. “But you’ve managed to keep your friendship going despite all that. You both make time for each other. If you were dating, it wouldn’t be that much different, would it?”

Leslie chimed in, “Exactly. You’ve already proven that you make her a priority, even with everything you’ve got going on. If you really like her—and it’s obvious you do—why not take the chance?”

Glen glanced down at you again, the flickering firelight casting a warm glow across your peaceful face. His arm tightened just slightly around you, as if the thought of letting you go, even metaphorically, was too hard to bear.

He didn’t respond right away, the weight of his family’s words settling in as he watched you. Maybe they had a point. But taking that leap still felt like a mountain he wasn’t sure he could climb—at least not yet.

“I’ll think about it,” he said finally, his voice soft and a little distant.

Leslie opened her mouth, ready to press him further, but Cyndy gave her a gentle nudge and a pointed look. “Let it go, Leslie,” she said quietly. “He’ll figure it out when he’s ready.”

As they turned to leave the room, Cyndy glanced back at Glen one more time, her expression full of motherly understanding. Glen caught her look, gave her a small, grateful nod, and then shifted slightly to settle more comfortably against the couch, his arm still securely around you.

For now, he decided, this moment was enough.

The warmth of the fire flickered softly, casting golden light across the room. Between the gentle crackle of the logs and the soothing rhythm of your breathing, Glen found himself starting to relax in a way he hadn’t in weeks. Your head rested against his shoulder, and the weight of it, combined with the soft rise and fall of your chest, brought an unexpected sense of peace.

Glen shifted slightly, careful not to disturb you, but the movement only made you nestle closer, your arm brushing against his. He glanced down at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. The firelight danced in his eyes as his mind wandered, replaying his mom and Leslie’s words.

She’s sweet.

You’re adorable together.

What’s stopping you?

His gaze lingered on you, and a soft sigh escaped him. He knew what they meant. Knew how easy it would be to let himself fall. Maybe he already had.

The fire crackled again, pulling him from his thoughts. The room was growing quieter, the warmth enveloping him like a cocoon. His head tilted back slightly, his eyes growing heavier with each passing moment. Despite his best efforts to stay awake, the comfort of the moment proved too much.

It wasn’t long before Glen’s breathing matched yours, slow and steady, his chin dipping slightly toward his chest as sleep overtook him. The two of you sat there, heads close, his arm still loosely draped around you while the blanket kept you both warm.

Some time later, Cyndy padded softly into the living room, a smile spreading across her face as she took in the scene. You were still tucked against Glen, your hand now resting lightly against his chest. Glen’s head leaned toward yours, his features relaxed in a way only sleep could bring.

Cyndy stood there for a moment, her heart warming at the sight. She grabbed another blanket from the linen closet and approached quietly, careful not to wake either of you. With practiced ease, she draped it gently over both of you, tucking it around your shoulders before stepping back.

She turned to the fireplace, stoking the remaining embers and making sure it was safely extinguished. The room dimmed as she turned off the lights, leaving only the soft glow of the moon filtering through the curtains.

Before heading to bed, she paused once more, her gaze softening as she looked back at the two of you. A small, knowing smile played on her lips as she shook her head lightly, then whispered to herself, “Just friends, huh?”

With that, she turned and left the room, leaving you and Glen to rest peacefully in the quiet glow of the night.

*****

The soft light of morning filtered through the curtains, casting a faint glow across the living room. Glen stirred, his body shifting slightly against the couch cushion as he blinked groggily, trying to orient himself. His eyes felt heavy, and for a moment, he couldn’t figure out why he felt so warm.

He shifted again, feeling something—or rather, someone—pressed against him. He froze, his heart skipping a beat as he realized he wasn’t alone.

Looking down, he saw you curled into his side, your front pressed snugly against his chest, your legs tangled with his. One blanket was wrapped around you, tucked in as though you’d done it instinctively, and another—one he didn’t even remember grabbing—covered both of you. His arm was draped protectively around you, his hand resting lightly against your back.

Your breath was warm against his neck, soft and even, and he could feel the steady rhythm of your heartbeat where your chest touched his. The realization sent a jolt of awareness through him. How had this happened? The last thing he remembered was sitting upright, with you asleep on his shoulder.

He let his head fall back onto the couch for a moment, exhaling slowly as he tried to make sense of it. Well, this is... comfortable, he thought wryly, though he couldn’t deny the quiet peace that came with waking up next to you.

As his brain started to wake up, he rubbed at his eyes, his other arm instinctively tightening around you as you shifted slightly in your sleep, murmuring something he couldn’t quite make out.

The sound of soft footsteps made him glance toward the archway leading to the kitchen. His parents stood there, his mom holding a coffee mug while his dad held the morning paper.

Cyndy stopped mid-step when she saw the two of you, her lips curling into a knowing smile she didn’t even try to hide. Glen groaned quietly, his free hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck as he looked up at them.

His dad raised an eyebrow, folding his arms across his chest as a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Well, good morning,” his dad said, his tone amused. “Sleep well, son?”

Cyndy swatted his dad lightly on the arm but didn’t say anything, her smile widening as she looked between Glen and you.

Glen cleared his throat, his voice low and rough from sleep. “Morning,” he muttered, trying not to move too much and wake you.

Cyndy stepped closer, lowering her voice. “You looked so peaceful last night. I didn’t have the heart to wake you,” she said, her gaze warm and teasing.

Glen gave her a look, half-exasperated and half-grateful. “Thanks, Mom,” he murmured dryly, though there was no heat in his words.

“You should probably wake her before the others come down,” his dad added with a chuckle, nodding toward the stairs. “Don’t want to give Leslie too much ammunition.”

Glen sighed, his eyes flicking back to you. You were still sound asleep, your face relaxed and peaceful against him. His dad wasn’t wrong—Leslie would have a field day if she saw this.

“Yeah, I’ll handle it,” he said quietly, shifting slightly to try and rouse you without startling you.

Cyndy leaned closer to her husband as they turned to head back to the kitchen, her voice just loud enough for Glen to catch. “I think they’re adorable,” she whispered.

Glen groaned again, though he couldn’t quite hide the small smile tugging at his lips as he looked down at you, still nestled against him.

Glen sighed softly and glanced down at you, his heart doing an odd little flip at the sight of you so peaceful against him. For a moment, he hesitated, not wanting to disturb you. You looked so content, your face relaxed and framed by a strand of hair that had fallen loose.

But his dad was right—he needed to wake you before anyone else saw this and started making jokes he’d never live down.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice low and gentle. He shifted slightly, his hand moving to lightly brush against your shoulder. “Time to wake up.”

You stirred faintly but didn’t open your eyes, your brows furrowing as you shifted closer, burying your face into the crook of his neck. The movement sent a wave of warmth rushing through him, and for a split second, he froze, unsure how to handle the sudden closeness.

“Come on,” he tried again, his voice soft and laced with a hint of amusement now. “You’re going to miss breakfast.”

This time, you let out a soft hum of protest, your voice barely audible as you mumbled, “Five more minutes...”

Glen couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Come on, you need to wake up before the others come downstairs.”

Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of his voice, and it took you a moment to register where you were. When you finally looked up at him, still half-asleep, your cheeks flushed as the realization hit.

“Oh,” you said softly, your voice hoarse with sleep. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to...”

“Don’t worry about it,” Glen cut in quickly, his tone reassuring.

Your eyes dropped to where his arm was still draped around you, and you slowly began to sit up, the blanket falling away as you shifted. Glen helped, his hand steadying you as you moved, though he couldn’t quite hide the slight reluctance he felt at the loss of warmth.

“I, uh... hope I wasn’t too heavy,” you said, brushing a hand through your hair as you tried to smooth it down.

Glen smirked, leaning back against the couch. “You’re fine. But you do steal blankets, apparently,” he teased, motioning to the second blanket draped over him.

You blinked, confused, then looked down at the blanket and frowned. “Wait, where did that even come from?”

“Mom,” he said simply, the corners of his mouth tugging upward. “She came in last night and covered us up. I think she wanted to make sure we didn’t freeze to death.”

Your cheeks reddened further, and you groaned softly, hiding your face in your hands. “Oh, great. So your mom saw us like that?”

“Don’t worry,” he said, reaching out to tug your hands away from your face, his smile softening. “She thought it was cute. So did Dad, for the record.”

“Wonderful,” you muttered, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at your lips now.

Glen watched you for a moment before standing and stretching, his hand running through his hair as he glanced toward the kitchen. “Come on,” he said, offering you a hand. “Let’s get some coffee before Leslie sees us and decides to turn this into a running joke for the next decade.”

You laughed softly, taking his hand as he pulled you to your feet. His touch lingered for just a second longer than necessary before he let go, his gaze flicking to yours briefly before he led the way toward the kitchen.

As you and Glen walked into the kitchen, the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee hit you, immediately comforting in the way that only mornings at someone else's home could be. His parents were already seated at the island, sipping their own coffee, looking up with warm smiles as you entered.

“Good morning, you two,” his dad, Glen Sr., greeted with a grin, his voice low and warm.

“Morning,” you replied softly, moving to grab a mug from the cabinet. Glen’s mom, Cyndy, shot you a look, an almost mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked, her voice friendly, yet filled with a knowing edge.

You nodded, your face flushing again as you took a seat next to Glen. “Yeah, I did. Thanks for the extra blanket.”

“Of course,” she said with a smile. “I couldn’t have you freezing to death in here.” She paused, her eyes flicking between you and Glen for a moment. “Though, I must say, it was nice to see you both so cozy last night.”

Glen let out an exaggerated groan, shaking his head. “Mom, please.”

You chuckled softly, looking over at him, your hand wrapped around your mug of coffee. “It’s fine,” you said, offering a reassuring smile. “No harm done.”

His dad chuckled, clearly enjoying the moment. “You’re lucky. I don’t see Glen like that much.”

“I bet,” you responded, teasing, taking a sip of your coffee. “I wouldn’t have guessed he’s such a softy.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Cyndy said with a wink, earning a playful nudge from her husband.

Glen rolled his eyes, then leaned back against the counter, his eyes flicking to you. “So, I was thinking we should head back to my place in a bit,” he said, casually stirring his coffee. “We’ll change clothes, then I’ll bring you back here. Sound good?”

You nodded, sipping your coffee again, grateful for the warmth in your hands. “That sounds perfect.”

Leslie walked in at that moment, still wearing her pajamas, her eyes narrowing in on you and Glen still in the clothes you had on yesterday. “Did you guys sleep here last night?”

Glen groaned again, clearly not ready for another round of teasing. “Leslie, please, not now.”

But Leslie was already grinning, turning to their parents. “They fell asleep and slept on the couch, didn’t they?”

“Mind your own business,” Glen said, his voice half-amused, half-annoyed, as he stood up from the counter. He shot a glance at you, his expression softening. “Alright, let’s go grab some things from my place.

As you and Glen walked toward the door, you could hear Leslie's voice rise from the kitchen, her tone laced with playful teasing.

"I mean, it’s so obvious," she said, her voice carrying easily to where you both were standing.

"I heard that, Leslie!" he called out, his voice a mix of annoyance and amusement. "Knock it off."

Leslie’s laugh echoed from the kitchen, followed by a muffled comment you couldn’t quite make out, though you were sure it was another jab at him.

Glen rolled his eyes and shook his head, but there was a softness to his expression when he looked at you. "Sorry about that," he said, his tone light. "She’s relentless."

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a warmth in your chest at how natural this all felt. "It’s fine," you said, chuckling.

He held the door open for you, letting you step out first, his hand brushing against yours as you passed. The drive back to his place was quiet at first, the hum of the engine and the soft sounds of music on the radio filling the space between you. You found yourself glancing out the window, watching the suburbs of Austin pass by as the sun began to rise higher, casting a golden glow over everything.

Glen’s hand rested casually on the steering wheel, his fingers tapping lightly in rhythm with the beat of the song. Every now and then, he’d sneak a glance at you, a slight smile curling on his lips as if something was playing in his mind. You caught him once or twice, but neither of you said much, content to simply exist in the quiet comfort of each other’s company.

Finally, as you turned onto the street leading to his place, Glen broke the silence, his voice low but warm.

“So, what do you think?” he asked, glancing over at you, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. “You’re not regretting agreeing to spend the holidays with my family, are you?”

You smiled, shaking your head. “Not at all. It’s been… nice. Really nice, actually.”

He gave a small, satisfied nod, then pulled into the driveway of his house. As he parked, you both sat there for a moment, the truck gently rocking as the engine turned off.

As you both entered the house, the familiar warmth wrapped around you, making you feel at ease. Glen led the way toward the stairs, his movements easy, casual—like nothing had changed. But you couldn't ignore the shift, the quiet tension that seemed to have settled between you after spending the night curled up together. It wasn’t awkward, not exactly, but it was different. You both seemed a little more aware of each other than before.

"Bathroom's upstairs," Glen said, breaking the silence as he gestured to the staircase. "You can use the guest bathroom, and I'll take the one in my room."

You nodded, following him up the stairs. The house was quiet now, the early morning stillness hanging in the air. When you reached the top, you stopped briefly in front of the guest room. Glen was a few steps ahead of you, but you caught the way his gaze flickered to you for just a moment. His eyes lingered, and you felt the weight of it—the subtle shift you’d both sensed. He quickly looked away, his lips curling into a casual smile, but it wasn’t the same as before. There was something unspoken now, something you couldn’t quite name.

"Alright," Glen said, his voice a little softer than usual. "I’ll meet you downstairs in a bit. Take your time."

You hesitated for a second, feeling the strange pull between you, but nodded and stepped into the guest room. The door clicked shut behind you, and for a moment, you just stood there, the silence pressing in. It wasn’t uncomfortable—just different. You couldn’t help but wonder if he felt it too, that quiet shift in the air, the one that had somehow made the space between you seem just a little smaller.

You shook your head, trying to push away the sudden thoughts swirling in your mind. This was still Glen—your friend. Nothing had changed, right?

But as you started to get ready for your shower, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had.

The hot water helped clear your head, and you focused on the simple task of washing off the sleep from your body. The shower was quick, just a few minutes of cleansing and letting the steam fill the space, but you didn’t want to take too long. Glen was probably already waiting, and you didn’t want to leave him hanging. You turned off the water, stepping out and grabbing the towel from the hook.

As you dried off, you realized your mistake. Your clothes were still in the guest room, neatly folded on the bed. You hadn’t thought that far ahead, assuming you’d just grab them when you finished. You sighed quietly to yourself, wrapping the towel securely around you, careful not to let it slip.

You checked yourself in the mirror for a moment, making sure everything was in place. Satisfied, you opened the bathroom door and stepped out into the hallway, glancing toward the guest room. It felt strange walking across the house like this—towel-clad, with nothing but the soft padding of your bare feet on the floor to accompany you.

You moved as quickly as you could, trying not to draw attention to yourself, but the slight breeze of the air made you acutely aware of just how vulnerable you felt in the moment. When you reached the guest room, you took a quick glance down the hallway, just in case, before slipping inside and closing the door behind you.

You quickly pulled on the clothes you had set out, opting for something comfortable but still presentable. After slipping on a soft sweater and a pair of jeans, you grabbed the brush and ran it through your damp hair. You added a little product, hoping it would hold up for the day, but you didn’t want to stress too much about it. After all, you were just heading downstairs with Glen—nothing too formal.

You took a deep breath and made your way toward the door, hoping the day would continue as smoothly as possible. But as you stepped out of the guest room, you nearly collided with Glen. He was just emerging from his room, his shirt still in his hand, his chest and abs exposed in the moment before he pulled it on. His muscles were defined, his skin still warm from the shower, and you found your gaze involuntarily drifting down for just a moment.

You quickly snapped your eyes away, trying to ignore the rush of heat that flushed your face. You gave a nervous smile, your heart thudding in your chest, and practically rushed past him. Your steps were quick, almost too quick as you hurried down the stairs, praying to some higher power that Glen hadn’t noticed your lingering glance.

The sound of his footsteps following behind you reassured you that he wasn’t focusing on the moment. You let out a quiet breath, hoping you could push the moment from your mind and keep everything normal.

"So, what do you think? Want to hang out here for a bit? Enjoy the quiet before we head back to the chaos?" he asked, his voice casual, but there was an unspoken invitation in his words.

You glanced toward the living room. The cozy, inviting space was practically calling out to you. The thought of staying here, just the two of you, no teasing, no distractions. The idea of getting alone time with Glen was tempting.

But as you stood there, a tug of guilt gnawed at you. You could already picture Glen, laughing and joking with his family, enjoying moments that he didn’t get to have often due to his hectic schedule. He didn’t get much time with them, and you knew that all too well. The last thing you wanted to do was take him away from that, especially when you knew how much he cherished it.

You had more time with him than they did. You saw him regularly, had long conversations over coffee, shared lazy afternoons together on his days off. They were lucky to have him home, and you didn’t want to be the reason he missed out on these rare moments.

The thought of staying here, just the two of you, was appealing, yes—but not at the expense of his family. You didn’t want to be selfish. They didn’t have the luxury of seeing him every day, and you knew that if you stayed, it would be taking away from that time they had.

Finally, you shook your head slightly, offering him a small, apologetic smile. "I think I’d rather head back over," you said, trying to push aside the selfish urge to keep him all to yourself. "You don’t get to see them much, and I don’t want to take that away from you." With a final glance at the quiet room around you, you gave Glen a small smile. "Shall we?" you asked, your voice light, trying to push the lingering tension aside.

He nodded, his smile softening, understanding exactly what you meant. "Yeah, let’s go."

As you followed him to the door, the weight of the quiet moments you shared earlier in the day seemed to hang in the air, but there was something comforting in it. A subtle shift, one you couldn’t quite put your finger on but couldn’t ignore either.

The cool air greeted you as you stepped outside, and the drive back to his parents' house was peaceful, the car filled only with the sound of the engine and the faint rustling of the wind. You both had your own thoughts, but the comfortable silence made it feel like there was no need to fill the space.

When you pulled up to the house again, the familiar warmth of the lights shining from the windows seemed inviting. Glen turned to you before you opened the door, his gaze lingering a little longer than usual. "Thanks for letting me have so much time with them" he said quietly, his voice sincere. "I appreciate you understanding."

You smiled at him, a quiet understanding between you that didn’t need words. "Of course, I know how important they are to you," you replied, giving him a look that was just as much reassurance as it was a soft acknowledgment of the unspoken bond you shared. And with that, the two of you stepped out of the car, ready to head back inside, where the sounds of family laughter awaited.

* * * * *

The warm scent of cookies filled the kitchen as you worked alongside Cyndy, Lauren, and Leslie, mixing dough and rolling it into perfect little balls. The rhythm of your hands, the soft scrape of the spatula against the bowl, was comforting. The kitchen was a cozy flurry of flour, sugar, and laughter.

As you moved the dough onto the baking sheets, the sounds of laughter echoed from the living room. Glen’s voice was unmistakable, full of warmth and joy, accompanied by the high-pitched giggles of the twins. You couldn’t help but smile, a soft chuckle escaping you as you glanced up.

“Seems like he’s a fun uncle,” you commented, rolling the dough into another ball.

Cyndy and Leslie shared a knowing look before Leslie grinned. "Oh, he’s the favorite uncle, hands down," she said, shaking her head with a teasing smile. “I mean, he’s practically a big kid himself when they’re around.”

You laughed, imagining Glen’s easygoing nature blending perfectly with the chaos and energy of his niece and nephew. It was clear that they adored him.

Lauren continued, her tone light and affectionate. “I think the twins might actually think of him as their second dad sometimes. He spoils them rotten."

After a few moments, Glen appeared in the doorway, slightly out of breath but grinning from ear to ear, his hair a bit messy from wrestling with the twins. His cheeks were flushed from the fun, but as soon as his eyes found the cooling rack of freshly baked cookies, he couldn’t resist. He made his way toward it, trying to sneak a cookie without anyone noticing.

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you saw his move. You grabbed the spatula from the counter and, with a quick swipe, playfully swatted at him.

“Don’t even think about it,” you teased, but before you could even get close, Glen’s hand shot out to grab your wrist, stopping the spatula mid-air.

He chuckled, his grip gentle but firm, his fingers brushing against your skin in the briefest of moments. His gaze locked with yours, and for a second, the playful banter seemed to fade as the space between you both felt charged with something a little different.

“Really?” Glen raised an eyebrow, his voice soft with amusement.

You laughed, trying to pull your wrist free, but his hand stayed in place, still holding you with a steady but warm grip. “They aren’t ready yet,” you said, laughing as you tried to wiggle out of his grasp.

The laughter from Cyndy and Leslie behind you broke the moment, and you both turned, noticing their amused expressions.

“Are we interrupting something?” Cyndy asked with a teasing smile.

Leslie, barely containing a grin, raised an eyebrow. “You two are really cute together, you know that?”

You shot her a playful glare, but Glen gave a sheepish chuckle, releasing your wrist and straightening up. “We're just friends,” he said with a lighthearted shrug, though the hint of something unspoken lingered in his tone. “But I am taking one of these cookies.”

Before you could respond, Glen grabbed a cookie from the cooling rack with a victorious grin. You rolled your eyes in mock exasperation as he happily bit into the cookie, clearly pleased with himself.

“You’re lucky I like you,” you said, shaking your head with a smile.

Cyndy and Leslie exchanged a knowing glance, but neither said anything else, letting the moment hang in the air between you two, filled with warmth and an undeniable connection.

Lauren gave Glen a mischievous grin and, without warning, tossed a small pinch of flour in his direction. The flour puffed up in the air, and Glen let out a surprised laugh, his hands immediately going to his hair and face to brush it away.

“Hey!” Glen laughed, glancing around at the chaos unfolding. “You’re going down for that!”

In an instant, the flour fight was on. Leslie, quick on the draw, took the opportunity to sprinkle flour over Glen’s shoulder. He retaliated with a handful of flour that he flung in her direction, his aim slightly off, hitting the edge of the counter instead. You couldn't help but laugh, your hands covered in flour as you tried to avoid getting caught in the crossfire.

Glen shot you a playful look, and before you could duck out of his reach, he tossed a small pinch of flour at you. It landed right on your nose, and you gasped in mock horror.

“Oh, it's on now,” you said, wiping at your nose. “You’re going to pay for that one.”

The kitchen erupted in more laughter as flour and frosting flew between the family members, and before long, the "fight" ended just as quickly as it started, with everyone covered in flour and sugar but still grinning from ear to ear.

You went to wipe the frosting off your cheek, but as your finger brushed over it, you only seemed to smear it further. Glen, watching you with a teasing smile, leaned in slightly, his gaze softening as he shook his head. “You’re just making it worse.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Got a better idea?”

He didn’t say anything at first, just reached for the kitchen towel. His fingers brushed against your chin as he gently took your face in his hands, tilting your head slightly to get a better angle. His thumb carefully wiped away the frosting from your cheek, and you held your breath, caught in the moment, his touch gentle and thoughtful.

“There,” Glen said softly, his eyes still focused on your face. “All better.”

You met his gaze for a moment, feeling something stir inside you. His hand lingered just a little longer than necessary before he dropped it to his side, giving you a sheepish smile.

Glen’s mom, Cyndy, appeared in the doorway, holding a broom in one hand and a Swiffer in the other. She surveyed the flour-coated kitchen with an amused smile, shaking her head at the mess.

“Start cleaning this up, Glen,” she said with a grin, holding out the broom to him.

Glen, still wiping frosting from his hands, gave her a mock salute. “Yes ma’am,” he replied, his voice teasing as he took the broom from her with a sigh.

Cyndy smiled and turned back to the counter, the familiar, easy banter filling the air. “I swear, uou start a food fight every time we bake cookies around here.”

“Hey, I didn’t start it. I was just defending myself,” Glen shot back, sweeping a pile of flour into the dustpan with care.

You glanced over at Glen, a grin tugging at your lips. It was hard not to notice how much he resembled his mom in that moment—easygoing, playful, and always the one tasked with cleaning up after the fun.

“Don’t look so smug, you’ve got your own work to do,” he teased, gesturing at the counter where the remaining cookie dough sat ready to be rolled.

You just laughed and walked over to help Cyndy and Leslie, trying to distract yourself from the small, fleeting moment you’d just shared with Glen.

The kitchen felt warm with laughter and good company as you all continued to work together, and for a moment, everything seemed perfectly in place. Glen was hard at work, and you were right where you wanted to be—with the people who mattered most to him, helping make new memories.

After the cookies were finished and the kitchen was tidied up, the festive energy of the day shifted to the living room, where the Christmas tree stood, waiting to be transformed. Glen’s mom, Cyndy, had made it clear—no tree decorating until everyone, including Glen was home. So, even though Christmas Eve had arrived, the tree still sat untouched, its branches bare, twinkling lights tangled in a mess of cords.

You and Glen made your way to the storage tote, ready to tackle the daunting task of untangling the lights. Glen grinned as he opened the lid, revealing the well-loved decorations inside. "Every year, this takes longer than it should," he muttered, already pulling out a jumble of strings.

"At least you’re here to help now," you teased, grabbing a section of lights and trying to work through the knots. "I’m sure your family appreciates that."

Glen shot you a playful look as he started to untangle his own section. "Yeah, yeah, they know I’m the official light untangler. No one else can be trusted with this responsibility."

You both worked together, your laughter and conversation mixing with the sounds of his sisters in the living room. Cyndy and Leslie were busy sorting through the assortment of ornaments, laying them out in neat piles to be hung on the tree. The occasional clink of glass and soft chatter filled the space as they talked about the best places to hang each ornament.

The mood was lighthearted, and there was a cozy comfort in the room as the tree slowly started to take shape. You glanced over at Glen, catching the familiar glint of mischief in his eyes as he struggled with a particularly stubborn knot.

"Need help there?" you asked with a smirk, leaning closer.

"Nope, I’ve got it," he replied, his voice teasing but also faintly apologetic. "I’m a professional at this by now."

As he worked on the tangled mess, you couldn’t help but notice how the sight of him—focused and determined, yet still making light of the situation—made your heart flutter in a way that was different from before. You shook it off quickly, telling yourself it was just the holiday spirit getting to you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of struggling with knots and wires, the lights were untangled. You plugged them in to make sure they worked, and sure enough, the tree lit up with a soft glow, casting a warm, comforting light on the room.

Cyndy clapped her hands together with excitement. "Alright, now the fun part! Everyone grab an ornament, let’s make this tree sparkle."

Glen’s sisters eagerly began pulling their favorite ornaments from the piles, each one carefully examined before being placed on the branches. Glen handed you an ornament with a small grin. "I think this one’s for you," he said, handing you a glass star ornament that had a delicate silver shimmer.

As the tree filled with decorations, you couldn’t help but feel the warmth of the moment. It was peaceful and festive, and even with the occasional playful jab from one of Glen’s sisters, you couldn’t deny that it felt right.

Glen stepped back for a moment, surveying the tree as the last few ornaments were added. He gave you a soft smile, and you both exchanged a quiet moment before returning to finish the final touches.

As the final ornaments were being placed, the room seemed to hum with festive energy. The tree was almost done, with the soft glow of the lights reflecting off the glass baubles and tinsel. You stepped back to admire the view when Cyndy, holding the delicate star topper, made her way toward you.

"Here," she said with a warm smile, holding it out to you. "I think you should be the one to put the star on top. After all, you're the special guest this year."

You immediately felt a slight panic. "Oh, no, no, someone in the family should do it," you said, shaking your head, trying to pass the ornament back to her. "This is your tradition."

But Cyndy, always insistent, simply raised an eyebrow and gave you a playful smile. "You’re part of the family now," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. 

Before you could protest any further, Cyndy shot a glance over at Glen, who was leaning casually against the wall, watching with a smile. "Glen, help her up."

Glen’s eyes twinkled mischievously as he moved toward you. "You heard her," he teased, holding out a hand. "Up you go."

You gave him an incredulous look, but there was no backing out now. Glen bent down slightly, motioning for you to climb onto his shoulders. With a deep breath, you carefully moved onto his broad shoulders. Glen straightened up, your legs now on either side of his neck, and you were perched on his shoulders, a little wobbly at first, but he steadied you easily.

"Alright, ready?" he asked, his voice close to your ear, making you feel a little more unsteady than you had been just moments ago.

You nodded, and Glen slowly straightened his back, lifting you higher so you could reach the top of the tree.

With his support, you leaned over carefully, stretching just enough to place the star on top of the tree. You could feel his arms beneath your legs, his grip steady as he held you in place. As you aligned the cord with the top strand of lights, the star clicked into place, and the top of the tree lit up with a soft, radiant glow.

The room seemed to pause for a moment, everyone looking up at the tree as the star twinkled brightly, casting a warm glow over the entire room. You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a sense of pride and contentment as you admired the result.

"Perfect," Cyndy said, her voice filled with approval. "It’s beautiful."

As Glen slowly lowered you back to the ground, his hands slid to your waist, steadying you as you regained your footing. You both stood there for a moment, a shared silence settling over you as you looked up at the tree. The lights glowed softly, casting a gentle warmth over the room, and the star at the top shone brilliantly.

The atmosphere was calm, peaceful. You couldn’t help but feel a small flutter in your chest as you stood close to Glen, the warmth of his hands still lingering on your hips. It wasn’t anything overt, just a quiet moment where the connection between the two of you felt more real than ever. The world around you seemed to fade away for a second, leaving only the soft hum of the Christmas tree lights and the quiet of the room.

You both stood there for what felt like an eternity, neither of you saying a word. The only sounds were the soft crackle of the fire in the background and the distant laughter from the others. And then, without warning, Glen seemed to notice the looks from the corner of his eye. Leslie and Lauren were standing at the other side of the room, their eyes fixed on the two of you, their smiles too knowing for Glen’s liking.

Caught in the moment, Glen quickly pulled his hands from your sides, his fingers brushing against your skin just enough to send a small shiver down your spine. He cleared his throat and turned toward the others, trying to act nonchalant.

“Alright, alright,” he said, chuckling awkwardly.

Leslie grinned and gave him a playful wink, but it was Lauren’s knowing smile that lingered in your mind. You and Glen shared a fleeting glance before you both turned to rejoin the others, the moment still hanging between you two.

* * * * *

Later that evening, after the lively chaos of dinner had settled, you found yourself stepping out onto the deck of Glen’s house. The crisp air of the winter evening wrapped around you as you leaned against the railing, a cup of warm tea cradled in your hands. The steam curled up into the cool night, and the soft hum of the distant streetlights was the only sound you could hear. It was a peaceful contrast to the laughter and chatter that had filled the house earlier, and you welcomed the solitude.

As you sipped from your cup, your thoughts drifted back to the night’s events. Glen’s family had been warm and welcoming, and though you could see how much they all cared for him, you couldn’t help but notice the way Cyndy had spoken earlier. It lingered in your mind, that softness in her eyes when she spoke of how much happier Glen seemed since you arrived. It made your chest feel tight, both in a comforting and nerve-wracking way.

The door behind you creaked open, and you turned just as Glen stepped onto the deck. He moved toward you with that familiar easy stride of his, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. For a moment, he stood beside you, silent, just taking in the night air with you. The way the soft glow of the house lights reflected off his features made him seem almost impossibly handsome in the moment.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low and gentle, as if he knew that his family’s energy could be overwhelming at times. “I know they can be a lot.”

You offered him a soft smile and took another sip of tea, the warmth of the cup soothing against your palms. “I’m enjoying myself, really,” you assured him. “Your family’s great. It’s just... nice to have a little peace and quiet for a moment after everything today, you know?”

Glen gave a small, understanding nod, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than usual. The comfortable silence stretched between you both, but then, as if on cue, a gust of cool air swept across the deck. You couldn’t help but shiver slightly, the chill catching you off guard.

Before you could react, you felt a warmth at your shoulders. Glen’s arm wrapped around you instinctively, pulling you closer to him, the solid feel of his presence comforting against the cool night. His touch, the gentle weight of his arm around you, made your heart race for reasons you couldn’t quite explain. It felt natural, like he was just trying to make sure you were okay—but there was something else there, something unspoken that hummed beneath the surface.

For a brief moment, you thought he might lean in, maybe say something that would break the quiet tension between you. But he didn’t. He just stood there, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him, but not close enough to cross that invisible line.

The silence stretched on, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence where two people simply existed in each other’s presence, the world around them fading away. Still, something about the stillness between you and Glen made you aware of the subtle shift in the air. You glanced up at him, catching the thoughtful, almost distant expression on his face.

“You okay?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it. There was something in his demeanor that made you wonder if something was on his mind, maybe something he wasn’t sharing. He seemed more serious now, the playfulness from earlier replaced by a quiet vulnerability you couldn’t quite place.

Glen turned his head to look at you, blinking as if he had been lost in thought, and then he let out a low chuckle, brushing it off. “You don’t want to know,” he said, his voice light but guarded, as if the answer to your question was something he wasn’t sure he wanted to share.

You raised an eyebrow, a playful grin curling on your lips. “Try me.”

His gaze flickered to yours, and for a second, you could see the flicker of hesitation in his eyes. It was a small thing, but it was there—a brief moment of vulnerability that he quickly masked with a deep breath. He didn’t say anything at first, just looking out at the dark sky, the stars twinkling above.

“I’m just…” He trailed off, then ran a hand through his hair, clearly unsure of how to continue. “I don’t know. Just... thinking about how much things have changed recently.” Glen sighed again, letting out a breath like he was releasing something heavy. “I guess... it’s just been a lot. Work, family... and now you. It’s all good stuff, but it’s a lot to juggle sometimes, you know?” He paused, his words becoming slower as if he were processing something in real-time. “I don’t want to mess things up. With my family, with you...”

The air between you and Glen felt thick with unspoken things, so you did the only thing that felt natural. You shifted slightly, closing the space between you until you were pressed against his chest. Instantly, his arms wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you in, and you rested your head just beneath his chin, feeling the steady rhythm of his breath against you.

For a brief, fleeting moment, you thought you might’ve felt something—something soft and sweet, maybe even a kiss. But when you lifted your head to look up at him, you realized it wasn’t that at all. He’d just rested his chin on the top of your head, his touch warm and gentle, like a quiet reassurance that you didn’t know you needed until now.

You pulled back a fraction, just enough to tilt your head and meet his eyes. Your fingers brushed against his chest lightly as you took a breath, wanting to say something—anything—that would keep this moment from slipping away.

“You couldn’t possibly mess things up with me,” you assured him, your voice steady but filled with a quiet confidence. You didn’t know why you said it, but you meant it. The last thing you wanted was for Glen to feel like he was doing anything wrong by simply being himself.

Glen laughed softly, though it was a little unsure. “Don’t be so sure about that,” he teased, his voice still carrying that hint of vulnerability beneath the humor. He didn’t let go of you, though—his hands resting lightly on your shoulders, almost like he was grounding himself to you in this moment.

You couldn't help but smile at the mix of playfulness and seriousness in his tone. It was typical of him—strong and self-assured, yet still somehow uncertain when it came to matters of the heart. But the way he was holding you, the way his arms had wrapped around you so naturally—it told you everything you needed to know.

“You’re not as big a mess as you think you are, Glen,” you said, your voice soft, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “At least not when it comes to me.”

Glen smiled back at you, the warmth of it reaching his eyes. The distance between you two, both physically and emotionally, was narrowing with every second.

Another breeze stirred the air, cool against your skin. It caught a strand of your hair, whipping it across your face. You instinctively reached up to brush it away, but before your hand could meet your face, Glen shifted. His fingers grazed your cheek softly, his touch warm as he gently tucked the errant strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered there, resting along your jaw for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

You looked up at him, and in that moment, the world seemed to slow down. His eyes, dark and unreadable, met yours, searching, almost like he was wondering what you were thinking—if you were feeling the same pull he was. His breath caught slightly, the air thick with everything unsaid between you two.

For a long, fragile moment, you were certain neither of you wanted to break the connection, but it was like the world was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. Glen’s fingers lingered on your face, his touch almost electric, and you could feel the heat rising between you.

He parted his lips like he was about to say something—anything—but then stopped. Something held him back, that same hesitation that had kept him quiet, kept him at a distance all evening. His breath faltered, but you could tell he was fighting himself.

The words left you before you could even think twice about them. Soft, barely a whisper, just enough for him to hear: “Kiss me.”

You weren’t sure if he caught it at first. It was so quiet, almost too soft for him to hear. If he didn’t want to, he could easily dismiss it, pretend he hadn’t heard and let the moment pass. The uncertainty and the weight of the words hung between you, like a fragile thread.

But then Glen’s tongue darted out to lick his lips, and the gesture was enough to make your heart race. Without another word, he closed the distance between you, his lips pressing against yours in a kiss that was soft but full of promise. There was no hesitation now, no second-guessing.

The world melted away, and all that remained was the warmth of his mouth, the sweetness of his breath mingling with yours

The world melted away, and all that remained was the warmth of his mouth, the sweetness of his breath mingling with yours. You could taste the hint of his cologne, feel the heat radiating off his skin as his lips gently moved against yours, a quiet but insistent promise.

You reached up, your hands trembling slightly, and grabbed onto the fabric of his shirt, as if grounding yourself in this moment. His touch was everything—strong, steady, and a little desperate, like he was holding on to something precious. One hand found its way to the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair as he gently pulled you closer, his lips urging yours to open. The soft pressure was almost a question, and you answered it without hesitation, your lips parting as his tongue slid in, exploring you with slow, deliberate movements.

The kiss deepened, and everything else faded. His free hand moved to your waist, pulling you against him, making you feel the undeniable heat of his body. The way he held you tightly, possessively, ignited a spark inside you that set your skin on fire. You felt every inch of him, the strength in his arms, the warmth of his chest pressed against yours, his heart racing in time with yours.

Without breaking the kiss, he gently pushed you back, guiding you until you were pinned between his solid body and the railing behind you. You could feel the cool metal against your back, the contrast of it to the heat radiating from him, but it only made the moment more intense, more real.

His mouth never left yours, and you were lost in it—lost in the way he kissed you, in the way he made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered in that instant. His tongue moved against yours, a slow, sensual dance that sent shivers down your spine. He was patient but relentless, as if he couldn't get close enough, as if he wanted to drown in this feeling, in the taste of you.

For a moment, you lost yourself completely in him. The kiss became everything—the way his lips molded to yours, the heat of his body pressed against yours, and the deep, almost desperate need that surged between you. It was as if nothing else in the world existed but the two of you.

When he finally pulled back, just enough to let you both catch your breath, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath ragged. He didn't let go, his hands still on your waist, his body so close you could feel the warmth of him seeping into you. His eyes searched yours, almost like he was asking for permission, or maybe trying to figure out what this meant.

Glen took a slow, deliberate step back, his hands lingering for just a second longer than necessary on your waist, as if reluctant to let go. His gaze locked with yours, still heavy with unspoken words and that same intensity that hung thick in the air. His lips parted slightly, as if he might say something, but the moment lingered—unsaid, just like everything else that had passed between you two.

He reached down, his fingers brushing against yours, and when he grasped your hand, it felt grounding, but at the same time, like a promise. He gently pulled you inside, his touch still warm against your skin, the heat from the kiss still lingering between you.

You stepped closer to him, his hand never leaving yours, and the world outside seemed to fade away once more. The air was different inside—charged in a way that made everything feel more intimate, more real. Glen glanced at you over his shoulder, a subtle smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, his eyes dark with something unreadable, something that only added to the tension building between you.

And then, with a quiet, almost playful tug, he led you further into the house, closing the door softly behind you. 

* * * * *

You stirred slowly, the warmth of the bed and the soft, rhythmic press of Glen’s lips against your shoulder coaxing you out of sleep. His gentle kisses trailed up to your collarbones, each one sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. The sensation was soft, tender—like he was savoring the moment, as if he didn’t want to break the stillness of the morning.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, your eyes fluttering open just enough to catch the sight of him—his face only inches from your skin, eyes closed in quiet reverence. His arm tightened around you, pulling you closer as though you were the only thing anchoring him to this moment. It felt so natural, so right, that you could almost forget it was Christmas morning.

With a soft sigh, you rolled onto your back, the bed creaking slightly as you shifted. You turned your head, your gaze meeting his. He hadn’t noticed you were awake, his lips still lightly grazing your skin, his breath warm against your neck.

A small, sleepy smile tugged at the corners of your lips, unable to hide the happiness bubbling up inside you. It was a moment of peace, of simplicity, and you knew it was one you’d carry with you for a long time.

When Glen finally met your eyes, his expression softened, a quiet tenderness in his gaze that made your heart flutter in your chest. He leaned in again, pressing a kiss to your lips, brief but full of meaning. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered, his voice low and rough from sleep.

“Merry Christmas,” you whispered back, your fingers gently brushing against his cheek, the moment feeling so intimate, so perfect.

Just as you were starting to drift back into the peaceful warmth of the moment, Glen’s phone rang, breaking the silence. He groaned and reached for it, clearly annoyed by the interruption. "Not now," he muttered, glancing at the screen and seeing it was Leslie calling.

"Seriously?" you teased, raising an eyebrow. "She can’t let us have five more minutes?"

Glen chuckled, though it was laced with mock frustration. "Guess not. She probably wants us to hurry up and join the rest of the chaos." He answered the call and put it on speaker, letting out another groan. "Leslie, it’s Christmas morning, cut me some slack."

You heard her voice, cheerful but insistent. "Yeah, I know, but you need to get over here! We’re all waiting for you to start the presents."

Glen rubbed a hand over his face, looking over at you with a grin. "Alright, alright. We’ll get up and head right over."

But Leslie, ever the sharp one, picked up on the tone in his voice. "Wait a second," she said with a teasing smirk in her voice. "You said ‘we’ll’ get up? So that means... you’re both still in bed?"

You felt Glen stiffen, his eyes locking onto yours as the corners of his mouth twitched. Before he could respond, Leslie continued, sounding far too smug for 8 AM. "And she’s with you, huh? In your room?"

Glen groaned dramatically, putting a hand to his forehead. "Leslie, it’s too early for this," he muttered, clearly embarrassed by the line of questioning.

Leslie wasn’t letting up, though. "Oh, I get it," she said in a sing-song voice, a little too amused for her own good. "I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’"

Glen looked at you, mouthing, "I’m gonna kill her."

He sighed, sitting up on the bed, clearly trying to change the subject. "Okay, okay. We’ll be over soon, alright? Stop prying."

"Sure, sure. Just don’t take too long, or I might have to send Mom in there to drag you both out," Leslie teased before hanging up with a cheerful goodbye.

Glen, still looking mildly exasperated, dropped the phone onto the bed. He laughed and leaned back against the headboard, stretching his arms over his head. "Alright, guess we should get up and face the madness."

You and Glen exchanged sleepy smiles as you both began to rise from the bed. Glen stretched his arms overhead, letting out a long yawn, before he slipped on his slippers and headed toward the bathroom. You turned toward the guest room, mentally running through the few things you had to do to get ready for the day.

As you dressed, you couldn't help but replay last night in your head—the kiss, the closeness, the way it felt like the world had just slipped away, leaving only the two of you. But now, in the cold light of morning, you couldn’t shake the uncertainty that lingered. What did it mean? What were you to Glen after everything that had happened? Your heart raced as the thought crossed your mind. Was this something you were supposed to talk about? Or would it be just another fleeting moment, like so many others in the past?

You finished getting dressed, smoothing your shirt and running your fingers through your hair, trying to calm the nerves that had appeared out of nowhere. When you stepped out of the guest room, you found Glen already ready, his jacket on and his keys in hand. He was standing by the door, waiting for you.

He gave you a soft smile when he saw you. "Ready?" he asked, his voice warm but with an edge of hesitation that matched how you were feeling.

You nodded, trying to brush off the unease. "Yeah.”

You followed him to the truck, your mind still racing with questions. The drive was quiet at first, the hum of the engine filling the space between you. As you passed the familiar landmarks, your eyes wandered to Glen, who was focused on the road. You wanted to ask him everything, to know where the two of you stood after everything, but you didn’t want to make things awkward.

Finally, Glen broke the silence. “I’ve been thinking,” he started, his voice steady but quiet. He glanced at you for a moment before turning his focus back to the road. “About last night. About us.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Yeah?” you prompted softly, unsure of where he was going with this.

He let out a breath, his lips curving into a faint, almost self-conscious smile. “Look, I know my life isn’t exactly… simple. My schedule is a mess, and I’m gone a lot. I don’t want to pretend like that’s not going to be a challenge. But,” he paused, his voice growing more certain, “I want to see where this goes. With you. If you’re willing to, that is.”

For a moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you. You could hear the nervous edge in his voice, the way he shifted slightly in his seat like he wasn’t sure how you’d respond.

You let the weight of his words settle over you before you replied. “I’m willing to,” you said, your voice soft but sure. “I wouldn’t have let last night happen if I wasn’t.”

A flicker of relief crossed his face, and he smiled—an honest, open kind of smile that made your chest feel warm. He reached over, his hand finding yours where it rested on your lap. His touch was gentle but firm, like he was grounding himself in this moment.

“Okay,” he said, his thumb brushing lightly against the back of your hand. “Then we’ll figure it out. Whatever it takes.”

You squeezed his hand, your heart lighter now, but the lingering uncertainty still hung between you. “So, what do we do about your family?” you asked, tilting your head toward him. “Do we tell them, or…?”

He sighed, his lips quirking in a wry smile. “That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” His fingers tapped against the steering wheel, his mind clearly turning over the possibilities. “Part of me thinks it’s better to just get it out there. But another part of me… I don’t want to make today about us when it’s supposed to be about family.”

You nodded, understanding his hesitation. “We don’t have to decide right now,” you offered. “Let’s just see how the day goes.”

Glen smiled again, his gaze soft as it flicked toward you. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan.”

The rest of the drive was filled with a sense of quiet anticipation, the air between you lighter now but still charged with the potential of what was to come. Glen didn’t let go of your hand the entire way, and you couldn’t help but feel that, no matter what, the two of you were in this together.

Glen stepped inside first, his hand still firmly clasping yours as he guided you over the threshold. The sound of laughter and conversation spilled from the living room, filling the house with the unmistakable hum of family.

Glen paused just inside the door, turning to face you. His hand lingered in yours for a moment before he gently released it, reaching instead to help you shrug off your coat. His fingertips brushed lightly against your arms as he slid the thick material off your shoulders. You glanced up at him, catching the faint smile tugging at his lips.

"Thanks," you murmured, offering him a small smile of your own as he hung your coat on the nearby rack.

He gave a slight nod. "Anytime," he replied, his voice low and quiet, just for you.

With that, you made your way toward the living room, Glen trailing close behind. The sight that greeted you was as welcoming as the sounds and smells: his entire family gathered around the tree, mugs of steaming coffee and hot cocoa in hand, their laughter blending with the soft crackle of the fireplace.

"Well, there they are!" Leslie called out, her grin widening as she spotted the two of you.

At her words, all eyes turned to you and Glen. You felt a momentary flush of warmth—not from embarrassment, but from the sheer warmth of the welcome in their gazes. Glen’s mom was the first to rise, crossing the room to pull you into a gentle hug.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” she said, her voice as soft and kind as ever.

“Merry Christmas,” you replied, smiling as you returned the hug.

Glen hung back for a moment, his gaze sweeping over his family before it landed back on you. When his mom released you, he stepped forward to exchange his own hugs and greetings, his presence grounding you in the lively room.

As you settled into the living room, Leslie’s sharp eyes darted between you and Glen, a knowing glint lighting her expression. “You two look cozy,” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

Glen shot her a warning look but didn’t rise to her bait. Instead, he placed a steadying hand on your back as he guided you toward an empty spot on the couch. “It’s still too early for your commentary, Les,” he said dryly, though there was a faint smile tugging at his lips.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly as you sat down, feeling Glen’s hand linger for just a moment longer than necessary before he joined you. The family resumed their chatter, and you felt yourself relax into the warmth of the room and the easy dynamic Glen had with his family.

There was an unspoken understanding between you and Glen as the morning unfolded. Whatever the day might bring, you were in this together, and that made everything—his teasing siblings, the bustling energy, the unrelenting sense of closeness—feel a little less overwhelming and a lot more like home.

The morning carried on with a joyous rhythm, the room buzzing with laughter and the crinkling of wrapping paper as Glen’s mom began handing out gifts from beneath the tree. One by one, brightly wrapped packages found their way into eager hands, and the sound of tearing paper soon filled the room.

You found yourself nestled comfortably on the couch beside Glen, warmth radiating from his side. At some point, almost without thinking, you leaned into him, resting your head lightly on his shoulder. His arm instinctively came up to wrap around you, pulling you just a little closer.

The moment felt effortless, like breathing, and you let yourself savor the comfort of it.

Unfortunately, it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Ohhh, would you look at that?” Leslie’s voice rang out, her tone dripping with mischief.

Your head snapped up, a blush creeping up your cheeks as you realized all eyes were now on you and Glen. His parents exchanged exaggerated grins while his older sister’s gaze softened with a mix of joy and curiosity.

“Well, this is new,” somebody teased.

Glen let out a long-suffering groan, running a hand over his face. “Can we not make this a thing?” he muttered, though there was no real heat in his voice.

Leslie was undeterred, her grin widening as she leaned forward. “Oh, no, this is absolutely a thing. Care to share with the group, Glen?”

He sighed, glancing at you. The flush on your cheeks deepened, but there was no judgment or pressure in his expression—only quiet reassurance.

Finally, he turned back to his family, his shoulders squaring as if bracing himself. “Fine. Yes, we’re… seeing where things go,” he admitted, his voice steady but soft. “And that’s all you’re getting out of me right now.”

His mom clasped her hands together, her face lighting up like the tree behind her. “Oh, Glen,” she said warmly, her joy unmistakable.

The teasing and comments came in waves after that, a mix of playful ribbing and heartfelt congratulations. You felt your face grow impossibly warm, but Glen’s arm around you tightened, grounding you.

Eventually, Glen turned to his family with a pointed look. “Okay, you’ve had your fun. Can we get back to the presents now?”

Leslie laughed but relented, reaching for another package beneath the tree. As the room shifted back to its lively rhythm, Glen leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. Are you?”

His eyes softened, and he gave a slight nod. “Yeah.”

And as the morning carried on, the lively chatter and laughter of his family surrounded you, filling the room with warmth. Glen’s arm stayed comfortably around you, an anchor amidst the joyful chaos. For the first time in a long time, you felt at ease—like you belonged, not just in this house but at his side.

Whatever this was, whatever it might become, one thing was clear: this was the beginning of something worth holding onto.

[temporarywelcome]

12 Fics of Christmas Day 10 - James Patrick March

"Early Celebration"

Summary: James is ready for reader's favorite holiday.

A/N: sorry we're ending at 10 instead of 12 fics... next year I'll be more prepared and hopefully won't get uber depressed lmao

____

“James, what are you doing?” 

He looked up, his usual dazzling smile forming on his face as he placed down the ornament, “What does it look like I’m doing, dearest?” He held out a hand, which Y/N slowly took. 

“Sorry, I’m just…” she paused, eyeing the large Christmas tree placed dead center in the lobby of the Hotel Cortez. A long ladder was placed next to it, the only way to get to the top. “...shocked.” Why would she be shocked? This was James Patrick March here, who has proven time and time again that he would do anything for his woman. 

A Christmas tree was nothing. 

“Oh? Have I not been spoiling you enough?” he questioned, turning her hand over. He then placed an ornament onto her palm. “I picked the finest ornaments for you, my dear. Should I have gotten bigger? More flashy?” 

Y/N shook her head, looking down at the ornament that was now in her hand. A dark burgundy color, sparkling in the light of the chandelier above them. “No no, you spoil me greatly. I just did not think holidays were something you took seriously,”

“Oh, I don’t,” her husband replied, guiding her closer to the tree so she can place the ornament, “However, my lovely wife adores the holidays, so now I must take them seriously,” 

Her face brightened at his words, turning from the tree to face him, “You’re doing all of this for me?” her eyes wandered behind him, looking over his shoulder at all of the working staff putting up reefs and garland, the red and gold furniture covers. 

The Hotel Cortez was ready for the holidays. 

“It’s not even December yet,” she giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck. Why did he always look at her like that? Like she were the one to hang the stars in the night sky every night? Like she was everything?

Well, to him, she was. 

“And? You like Christmas. Let us have a spectacular Christmas season!” One arm went around her waist as he snapped at a staff member, “You! Fetch me some champagne and two glasses. We must celebrate the coming of December!” 

She could always count on James to make a big deal out of everything involving her. Her favorite holiday. Her birthday looking like a national holiday on its own. Even small things like her favorite foods and clothing. James made it known he paid careful attention to all of her interests. “You don’t have to, James-”

“Nonsense,” he squeezed her side playfully, before pressing a loving kiss to her temple, “If I can, why wouldn’t I?”

___

don't settle guys tags: @envy-of-greed @bohnerrific69 @loveofcherry

[madibyrd]

[ @yazziem ]

It was easy for Madi to get sucked right into her work, and what was easier more than anything was getting lost in work at the apiary. She needed to move several hives that day and, probably thankfully, she was very late in the process when she noticed an unknown person walking around, getting closer to her and the hives.

“Hey, be careful, especially if you’re allergic to bees,” Madi called out, just to alert the guy - he looked more lost than anything else, really, and Madi placed the hive cover back in its place and moved over to him. “You’re-- you’re new around here, right? Well, new to the beach. Or, well-- new to the beach currently. Have you-- you know, just arrived to the island? Or gotten out of the jungle or the cave or some other part of the island? It’s sometimes hard to tell.”

[seyaryminamoto]

Fic-to-Art #38: Ozai carries Azula to the physicians' wing

This has been done for A WHILE now, but I didn't post it because the past days have been chaotic and not just on a personal level. For one thing, I really wasn't eager to drop this when people were losing their shit massively over the liveaction and its recontextualization of Azula and Ozai's dynamics, I didn't look forward to releasing this just to be told that whatever I've done in my story is somehow wrong, sooooooooo... that held me back, for a few days.

Then? The AI-Tumblr deal started to be talked about and I may or may not have freaked out about that too. Sooo... this is the first glazed and nightshaded piece of my creation, as consequence. The original, clean and proper version is available in my Patreon. Is this me being a dick to Tumblr-only people? Unfortunately, it very much isn't, I'm not trying to say that if you want the best iterations of my art, you should pay me for it... this is squarely, entirely, at staff/the CEO's feet. Obviously, there's the insecure side of me that goes "what makes you think they'd steal YOUR art when there are so many better artists out there!" but ultimately? AI is about taking everything en masse. It isn't a matter of developing a criteria about who makes the better art... it's just taking EVERYTHING and trying to repurpose it in whatever twisted way it needs to. Therefore? I think my choice is more of a matter of caution than anything else. Once AI bullshit dies out (and I really hope it does), we may just return to the same level of quality across all my accounts. For now, it is what it is.

ANYWAY! Point is this artwork is very much what my Patrons happened to vote for this month, a very shocking scene where Ozai reacted in the least foreseen way to Azula being attacked. Azula's confusion/terror comes from a place of not knowing what to do and being powerless to stop her father even if she doesn't feel comfortable with his help... but for once, Ozai isn't making a dreadful choice that will only devastate his daughter. He's actually worried about her health... and feeling genuine guilt over what landed her in the situation where she was in danger in the first place. Yes. I like me my complex Ozai who finally learned actions have consequences. He bores me to death otherwise :') if anyone STILL doesn't know that this whole situation is Gladiator-specific, then I shall clarify fully: this is artwork based on my fic. It's about a story that has been developing these characters for ALMOST ELEVEN YEARS now. It has nothing to do with whatever's going on in canon or in the liveaction, the scene in question was written almost two years ago and the artwork proposed and voted for several days before the liveaction aired. Ergo: there is no connection between this and that. Nor am I saying through this piece that Ozai is a good father. He is not. He can still be an interesting character to work with on a narrative level anyway :')

Alright. With that out of the way, hope you guys like this piece! The big one I haven't posted is ALSO finished, also glazed and nightshaded, but I think I might just end up posting it on the 26th if I don't have time to do anything big for our eleventh anniversary... yep, I'm so busy I don't even have a huge project in mind this time. Also? I have a lot to write and I'm finally happily writing it, and I would like to continue doing that...

Anyway! If you would like to be part of the creative process behind this piece, as well as see it in its proper, OG, less color-bleeding clunky version? A $1 Patreon pledge gives you the chance to join in suggesting prompts, voting for them and reading Gladiator snippets 6 days before a new chapter is released!

[analogwriting]

The Other Side of Paradise

Chapter 6: Season 2 Episode 3

Killer x gn!reader word count: 3.1k first|next a/n: i swear that's a song title

As the party began to wind down, you found yourself on the couch in the garage. Dive was sleeping with her head in your lap. Killer was next to you with his arm around you. You were fully leaning into him, trying not to fall asleep yourself. 

“Killer, come do one last shot with us! Close the night out.” There were people scattered about, passed out in various places already. Some people were keeping the party alive and going.

He looked at your half sleeping form, shaking his head. “I think I'm good.”

“You should do it, babe,” you mumbled, sitting up and pulling away from him. “This is gonna be the last time you see some of them for a while.”

“But I'm also leaving you, too. I want to-”

You kissed him softly, smiling. “Yeah, but you still have all of tomorrow and Monday morning with me. Go. Have fun with your friends.”

He looked at you for a long moment with fondness in his eyes but otherwise an unreadable expression. “God, I love you. I don't know what I did to deserve you,” he mumbled, kissing you again before getting up. 

“You were born. Now go. I'll be fine.” You waved him off before settling back into the couch and falling asleep. 

--

The next morning, you wake up pretty early despite being up so late. It was always like this. No matter when you go to bed, you always wake up early. A blessing and a curse.

You yawned, moving a bit before realizing that Dive was still in your lap. You wiggled out from under her, trying not to wake her up and celebrating quietly when you succeeded. You do a few stretches, yawning. Your body feels stiff, probably from falling asleep on the couch in a weird position with someone in your lap.

People were passed out all over the place. You moved strategically, trying not to step on anyone or bump into them, picking up some trash as you went. You knew you had a whole morning of cleaning ahead of you. As people woke up, you’d probably have them help if they didn’t have anywhere to be immediately.

“What are you doing?” You jumped, turning to see Killer standing in the doorway to the kitchen. 

“Cleaning up a little bit.”

The two of you were always the first ones up - as always. 

“You should be resting.” You rolled your eyes at his words, waving him off. “Oh hush. I'm just fine.” You threw away everything you had in your arms before grabbing an empty trash bag. 

Killer came over, pulling the bag out of your hands. You looked up to protest but his lips found yours immediately. You had gasped slightly, giving him a chance to deepen the kiss. You couldn't help but moan into him as your arms found their way around his neck. He pressed you into the counter slightly. 

Before it could get too far, you pulled away from him. “Hold on, babe. People could wake up at any moment,” you mumbled against him. 

“It's still early. We're fine. Besides, I still need to punish you for telling Hop and Bubblegum the news beforehand.”

You couldn't help but giggle a little as a shiver ran down your spine the lower his voice dropped. “But that's not my faaaault.” You fake pouted, unable to suppress a grin.

He kissed you one more time before finally letting you go. 

“Fine. I'll get you once everyone leaves.” You bit your lip, unable to contain your grin. “Promise?”

Then you took the trash bag back from him. “Promise.” He shook his head, letting you go start picking things up. 

As the morning progressed, people slowly woke up, helping you clean up the massive mess that was left over. You’d probably do some deep cleaning after everyone left - if your boyfriend let you, that is. Might have to wait until he leaves. After all, you’re going to need to give yourself something to do to distract yourself.

 Killer was already working on making a huge breakfast for everyone. He knew that everyone would be awake by the time he finished cooking. His food could honestly wake the dead just from their aroma.

Once you have enough people picking up trash and the house, you head outside to get the tables all set up once more. Hop joined your side, helping you. The two of you made idle chit chat as you did so.

It wasn't long before everyone was outside once more and dining off delicious food. It was noisy, which isn't a hard feat; not when there were so many of you. There were so many different conversations going on. 

Slowly, people made their way out. Some of them right after breakfast, some stuck around to mingle. Your boyfriend was mostly busy saying goodbyes. He had tried to stick with you again but you'd waved him off. 

You two would have plenty of time for goodbyes later. 

--

Finally, most people are gone. Heat and Wire head out as well, both needing to start packing their things. You were cleaning up breakfast when you felt Killer lift you up into his arms. You yelped, falling into laughter. 

“Now we have some alone time.”

“Not completely. Don't be gross and loud,” Kid shouted from the living room. 

The two of you laughed. “We're just going to rest. Don't worry.” Killer headed up the stairs with you, Kid just grumbling something neither of you could understand. Probably calling a bluff or something along those lines.

Killer tosses you onto the bed and you fall into fits of laughter as he crawls in after you, kissing you before collapsing next to you, pulling you in close. 

“Now we're alone,” you mused, turning to him and kissing him softly before resting your heads together. 

“I'm going to miss you,” he mumbled. 

Your heart hurt a bit, but you let out a pained smile. “I'm going to miss you too, love,” you said, voice low. 

The two of you laid like that for a moment, just enjoying each other's company. Who knew when you’d be able to just…coexist together again.

“I'm going to fly you out as soon as I'm able.”

You look up at him, chuckling. “Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I gotta finish up my degree anyway.”

“I can provide for us. You don't have to worry.” He frowned. 

“Well, even when we get to that point, I'm going to get bored just doing nothing. I might as well get a job. Give myself something to do when you're touring and stuff.”

“You'd come with us at that point.”

“You don't ha-”

“But I want to.” 

You looked at him for a long moment, observing the determination in his eyes. Your own expression softened.  “Well, someone has to take care of the house, especially if it’s a mansion like Kid wants.. And you need time with your buds. And I think Kid wouldn't allow it anyway.” You snorted, listing off the reasons on your fingers.

“He cares about you more than you think. He was also incredibly bummed he couldn't bring you along initially.” 

Your face warmed up. You knew your own cousin cared about you, that was a given. It was still weird to hear aloud though. It was also nice, knowing that you were cared for.

“You're our honorary fifth band member, after all. And Kid still wants you to sing for us.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “In his dreams.” You just couldn't stand the idea of being on stage in front of thousands of people. 

“Maybe one day,” he mused, rolling over and pulling you on top of him. 

You sighed, yawning. Killer said something else but you couldn't make it out as everything caught up with you and you immediately fell asleep. 

-

You woke up some time later, seeing that several hours had passed. You noticed Killer wasn’t in bed and you grumbled for a moment, feeling the bed for him as you processed that he was missing. You were also struggling to properly wake up - still mostly asleep.

You heard movements, looking over to see Killer at the closet. Ah, he must be packing. You slowly sat up, stretching. You didn’t realize just how hard you had slept; you were pretty sure you even drooled a little. 

“Have a nice nap?” Killer’s voice made you jump as you were wiping up the dried drool from your face. You looked over to him as he was folding up a shirt, setting it in his suitcase. You stared at him for a moment, processing once more. 

“I should probably check everyone’s luggage,” you mumbled.

“Huh?”

You scrambled out of bed, tangling yourself in the blankets and started tumbling to the floor. Your boyfriend caught you with ease. “Slowdown there, partner. What’s the big rush? You’re not even awake fully yet.”

You mumbled something that you weren’t sure of and with the look on his face - he wasn’t either. You took a moment, just sitting there in his arms as you adjusted. Waking up and immediately going after napping that hard was apparently a bad idea.

“I…” You looked up at him, smiling. “Am going to double check everyone’s suitcases. Just to make sure they have all the essentials. I don’t trust any of them as far as I can throw them.” 

Killer stared at you for a moment before laughing. He nodded. “Alright. Sounds good.” He kissed your forehead, letting you bound out of the room.

You stopped at your cousin’s room, seeing his suitcase opened and things haphazardly tossed in, but he wasn’t anywhere to be found. “Tungsten?” You called - no answer. Huh.

Curiosity had the best of you, making you walk in to check his suitcase. “Hey, the fuck are you doing?” You nearly jumped out of your skin as Kid came into his bedroom, pulling his headphones off. 

“Making sure you’re packing decently.”

“I’m not a child.”

“The last time I let you pack your own bag, you didn’t pack any underwear or a toothbrush.”

“I was younger then!”

“Tungsten, that was literally last month.”

He went quiet, narrowing his eyes at you. “Who needs underwear,” he mumbled.

You rolled your eyes, looking through his clothes. “Fair point, but you still need to brush your teeth at least.” 

He walked over to you, watching over your shoulder as you went through his things. Everything was dumped out, for starters.

“Hey-”

“Don’t backseat pack. If you’re gonna hover - zip it.”

Kid grumbled, folding his arms and pouting like a child; living up to his name. As he did so frequently, but so did you. Truly related.

You resumed what you were doing, folding things and putting them in the bag neatly so more could fit inside of it. “You need to make sure you’re folding things nicely. You’ll fit more that way.”

“Now, go grab your toiletries, I see you have forgotten them again.”

“I can just get new-”

“Go get them.”

“Alright, alright. Fine.” Kid grumbled, mumbling things under his breath as he left the room once again. You continued to pack his suitcase, making sure he had plenty of outfit combos, his important accessories, and once Kid came back, his toiletries.

Kid looked at the bag once you finished opening his mouth when you held up a hand. “Use the smaller suitcase I have for your tools, alright?” He immediately closed his mouth, pouting slightly because you beat him to the point. You knew he wanted to take his tools as he loved tinkering and building things in his downtime. Whether it was his car or their instruments, it didn’t matter. That’s why it was important he took his tools.

They’d be able to get more things once they get settled in, but you weren’t sure how long it would take for them to be able to do that. That’s why you were determined to make sure they had adequate packing. You knew Killer would be fine, but it was mostly just Kid you worried about. Maybe Heat a little bit, but he’d survive.

Now that you thought about it, last time the four of you went on vacation, Wire had only brought his knitting things. Maybe you should just check everyone’s - just in case. Haha…like suitcase.

“What are you grinning at?” You looked over at your cousin, shaking your head. “Nothing.”

You closed everything up, looking at him. “Well, it’s all good to go. Guess I’ll double check and make sure you have everything in the morning.”

Kid looked at you for a moment, his expression softening slightly. “You sure you don’t wanna join the band, Bigs? You’d be able to go with us.”

Your own face softened at his sudden change of mood. “I’m positive. Stagelife isn’t for me, Tungsten.” You put your hands on your hips to face him. “You just work hard and get that big house and then I’ll move in and we’ll be one big happy fa-”

You were cut off as he suddenly hugged you tightly. You patted his back awkwardly for a moment before returning the sentiment once you fully processed what was going on. He wasn’t exactly one to show affection like this, but you weren’t about to embarrass him about it. This kind of thing could be hard.

He pulled away, sniffling and turning from you. “I’m gonna go back to cleaning out the van. Don’t bother me.” With that, he put his headphones back on and headed out of the room.

--

Heat and Wire came over a little later with their things. You checked their luggage as well, scolding them and sending them back to properly pack. Heat had barely brought anything at all and Wire had forgotten to include pants of any kind.

How they were going to survive without you - you had no idea.

You were in the garage, double checking that the equipment was properly packed up when you felt Killer slide his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. “Everything checking out, manager?” 

You rolled your eyes, grinning at his little joke. You turned around, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him softly. “I’d say so,” you mused. 

“I checked everyone’s luggage, the equipment, and made sure that Kid will actually have the van cleaned out by morning. Everything is going as scheduled.”

“Good. That means-” He stopped, picking you up and carrying you inside. “It’s time for bed.”

Once more, you fell into fits of laughter as he picked you up and carried you to the bedroom. It wasn’t long before the two of you settled down.

“I almost don’t want to go to sleep. I don’t want to miss a moment with you.” He looked at you as the two of you laid in bed, brushing his knuckle on your cheek. You smiled at him, taking his hand and kissing his palm.

“You’re always so sweet, Killi.” You shook your head. “But, you need to get plenty of rest. The lot of you have a lot of driving to do. I know Kid is taking first shift, but someone has to make sure no one gets lost.” Kid would take way too many detours and it would take them a week to get there if someone didn’t keep him focused.

“I know, I know. We’re going to try to do it all in one go. With the four of us taking turns driving, it should be relatively easy.”

“Call me as soon as you get there?”

“I’ll probably call you as soon as we leave the driveway.”

You laughed, flattered by his response. “As much as I would love that, I know it would annoy the boys. And you’re driving through plenty of dead zones, so I doubt your service will be reliable in the least.” 

He sighed, frowning deeply. “That’s true. But I’m going to text you every chance I get.”

You smiled up at him. “And I’ll answer whenever they come in, okay?”

After a few more reassurances that everything would be fine, the two of you fell asleep together for the last time.

--

The next morning, everyone was up just as the sun was peeking over the horizon. It was early. Killer was already making breakfast, you were helping everyone else pack everything into the van. It was like tetris, which you were amazing at. Everything fit like a glove when you took charge of it.

“Breakfast is ready!”

All of you headed inside, eating the hearty breakfast killer made. They needed their energy for their trip and you were just hungry.

After breakfast, you did one last check, making sure everyone had everything and everything was packed. It wasn’t like when they did shows an hour or two away and you could run something to them and they could do without. They were going to be across the damn country.

Everything was packed, loaded and ready to go. As you all walked outside, Bubblegum and Hop pulled up. They knew everyone was leaving and you were about to be alone in a large house for the first time ever so they were there for support. 

You were at the passenger side window where Killer sat, doing one last verbal checklist. “Alright, Bigs. We got everything. If you check one more time, something will end up missing on purpose.”

You held up your hands. “Fine, fine.” You looked at them, smiling. “I’m so proud of you boys, don’t forget that.” Killer smiled, gently taking your face in his hands and pulling you in for one of the most passionate kisses the two of you had ever shared. Probably the best, honestly. 

You pulled away, breathless and everything was spinning. “Make sure you call,” you mumbled against him before pressing another kiss to his lips. You felt the car begin to move, jumping back, startled.

“Tungsten!”

“Sorry, but if I let you two keep going - it’ll never end!”

You rolled your eyes, waving goodbye to them. “Drive safe! Love you! And good luck!”

Killer was leaning out of the passenger side window, looking back at you and waving as the van headed down the street. The two of you waved at each other as Bubblegum and Hop joined your side, shouting until they were out of sight.

NEXT

[that-was-anticlimactic]

"can you stay?" + atsushi & kyouka

"can you stay?"

atsushi's voice trembles as they speak, and kyouka freezes.

"nevermind."

atsushi laughs almost immediately, blinking away the impending tears and wavng their hands in front of them. "sorry. you don't... that was stupid of me to say. i'm-"

"stop apologizing."

kyouka slides beside them, curling up against their side. she head plops on their shoulder.

they're warm and shakey, and kyouka feels soft on atsushi's neck.

"i don't mind staying."

honestly, she wanted to stay. no matter how many times she watches atsushi - her sibling by everything but blood - get stabbed, the more she fears for them.

it's a little foolish, she knows; she's been familiar with blood and death and gore since her parents died. limbs being torn off and blood slowly oozing out of the body doesn't scare her.

but it does when she sees it happening to atsushi.

(and she doesn't say anything, but atsushi isn't the only one who gets nightmares - she's just better at keeping them quiet)

"you're just a kid..." atsushi mumbles, breaths shaky and uneven. "you shouldn't have to-to comfort me."

even so, kyouka soon feels the cool pads of their compression gloves rubbing her wrist.

"doesn't matter," she says, because she knows you're still a kid, too only upsets them more.

"okay."

they whisper it so quietly the only reasons kyouka hears it is because of her assassin training.

good.

she snuggles closer still and listens to their heartbeat. it starts off quick, but gradually falls until it's steady.

and kyouka is able to fall asleep with the reminder that her sibling is still alive.

(send me a sentence (+ a ship/character) and i'll write the next five sentences)

[majouartings]

PLAYABLE ZELDA PLAYABLE ZELDA PLAYABLE ZELDA PLAYABLE ZELDA PLAYABLE ZELDA PLAYABLE ZELDA PLAYABLE ZELDA *inhale* PLAYABLE ZELDA PLAYABLE Z

[usermoon]

beginning / previous / next

[fallinglikemagic]

hoppin on the redraw bandwagon

[ashmcgivern]

My last two artfights from a while back! Totally forgot to post them, sorry about that lads.

Cascis belongs to ApparentlyCascis on Artfight and Ingway belongs to @shinkoscribbles!

[floral-hex]

wowwy wawawa. was worried about seeing a new psychiatrist, but any doc that gives me a month of ativan is okay in my book.

so anyway, I got that and also starting something called remeron after the weekend is over (going out of town for my brother’s 2 day chess tournament and don’t want to deal with side effects during it). Let’s be hopeful.

[dangerous-advantage]

If you want, a disaster twins hurt/comfort drabble? Maybe even cuddles? You don't have to if you don't want to.

(cws: heights/references to falling from heights, discussion of canon-typical trauma, cursing)

Lightning flashed through the cover of clouds, exposing their rain-swollen underbellies. Leo counted the seconds between the latest strike and its corresponding rumble of thunder.

One, two, three...

He kicked his legs to the rhythm of his thoughts, concrete bruising his heels. The sting was grounding. Up here, above the city lights and conversation, Leo could use all the grounding he could get.

A fat droplet of rain smacked wetly on his arm. He looked up, just as the sky growled warning and unleashed it's downpour.

Leo closed his eyes and pretended not to breathe.

The rain had been worse this year. The last three days had seen scattered showers and an endless, overcast sky.

Leo liked the rain. God knows the city needed it. It made him feel cleaner than he had in a long time. Like New York was finally washing its hands of the events earlier that summer.

If he let himself, he could almost pretend everything was back to normal. That it had never been un-normal.

But the rain also brought new and unfortunate side effects. His time in the prison dimension left him scarred. Several months removed, he was still recovering.

The rain ignited his deepest aches. He'd lay in bed, clenching his jaw to stifle his whines of pain as the muscles in his legs cramped and spasmed. His shell ached, too, the cracks in his carapace lit up like a live wire. He'd popped three ibuprofen the day before, but this time, it didn't save him.

He'd hoped fresh air would do him some good, but his thoughts were as raw as ever.

If he had the energy for it, or maybe someone to tell, Leo would've joked about it. But his dramatics were never entertaining in his own head, and they weren't meant for him, anyway.

He tipped his head down and sighed out a breath. Cold rivulets cascaded down his face, tracing his jawline. They fell to his lap in scattered droplets, refracting the city lights as they rebounded.

He was starting to get a bit too cold for comfort. They weren't fully cold-blooded, seeing as they were part human, but they were still susceptible to temperature changes, especially Leo.

He didn't want to deal with a cold on top of everything else.

Leo gathered himself, shifting into a crouch. His body protested as he came to a standing position, retrieving his katanas from where he'd set them.

His bandana was soaked, say nothing of his bandages. He'd need to change them before his brothers awoke. He'd better dry off his katanas, too-- he didn't know if mystic weapons could rust, but he'd rather not find out.

Retreating away from the edge of the roof, Leo could feel his heartbeat start to settle. Heights didn't bother him, exactly. It was more about potential. Sitting on a precipice, seconds away from what could be your last breath.

It was the ultimate test of arrogance. Would you really test your luck, lean over the edge to catch a glimpse of what lay below? Just a cursory misstep and you would be sent plummeting, with only moments to contemplate before you were crushed against concrete.

Adrenaline was an effective tool for alleviating the worst of the pain. It probably wasn't a healthy practice, but what worked, worked.

Summoning his ninpō, Leo slashed a katana through the air, flinging rainwater with the sweep of his blade. The air rippled, a pool of blue reflecting in the puddle beneath him.

With barely so much as a thought to serve as a directive, the connection stabilized, pulling at his gut. Leo stepped through, shutting the gate behind him.

He emerged in their bathroom, water dripping off his disheveled form to the floor. Glancing up at the clock, he frowned. Had it really been three hours?

Leo set his katanas on the counter and foraged through the cabinet for a towel. He discarded the first two he grabbed on account of their worn texture, tossing them to the ground behind him.

His fingers closed around plush, white material, and Leo pulled out a newer-looking towel. It would do nicely.

He set to work drying his katanas with fastidious motions, guiding the towel into the crevasses where excess rainwater might accumulate. He dried his first katana once, and then a second time, before doing the same to the other.

When he was satisfied, he turned back to the cabinet and rifled through it, looking for a first aid kit. He'd had Casey restock recently, given how much of their supply had been damaged in the Kraang invasion. He didn't remember if anyone had put them away-- they might still be on the kitchen counter, for all he knew.

Leo gave up, nudging the cabinet shut, and carried his katanas to his room. His body was really starting to hurt again. He perched on the edge of his bed, tensing the muscles in his body.

He let his eyes flutter shut. His body felt washed out and faded like an old t-shirt, washed one too many times. Maybe he should just try and rest while he could, before the pain returned in full.

But the medic in him eschewed the idea. Not to mention, his brothers would kill him if he risked infection by something so careless.

Heaving a sigh, Leo abandoned his bedroom, making his way to the train car that housed their kitchen. To his surprise (and wariness), the lights were on, curtains drawn.

Had Mikey forgotten to turn off the light? That wasn't like him.

(Which meant he probably hadn't.)

Leo procrastinated by the entrance, killing time locked in an internal dialogue. Somebody else was up, or had been. Most likely scenario, it was Casey, being a light sleeper.

He was also the only person that knew about Leo's midnight escapades. He'd confessed that knowing Leo was gone set him on edge. Often, Leo would return to find him sitting in his room, eyes on a distant memory.

Shaking off his indecision, Leo pulled himself up into the car, grimacing at the jolt of pain that ran up his shell. He stepped inside and froze, stomach dropping to his knees.

Donnie sat on a stool at the counter, thumbs flicking over his phone screen. An empty bowl and spoon sat in front of him on the otherwise clean surface, evidence of a midnight meal. There was a cutting board in the sink and a stockpot on the cooktop.

Donnie looked up from his phone, eyebrows slightly smudged. They knit together in confusion as he took in Leo's waterlogged state.

Leo shifted his weight. "I didn't know you were up."

Donnie raised an eyebrow. "Went for a midnight swim?" he deadpanned.

Leo moved past him, toward the opposite counter. "Something like that," he mumbled. He withdrew one of the first aid kits from a plastic grocery bag stowed on top of the fridge.

His thigh dissented, muscles contracting, and he gasped. He bent over, resting his forehead on the fridge, eyes squeezed shut.

A stool creaked, sliding back. "Leo?"

Leo gritted his teeth. A bead of water slid down his face and fell from his chin like a teardrop.

"Just sore," he groaned. "I'm fine."

He could feel Donnie's presence as he approached. He stopped a few feet behind where Leo was standing, back bowed.

"You don't look fine," he pointed out.

Leo hadn't "looked fine" since the prison dimension. He choked on a laugh at the thought, unable to smother it. He couldn't see Donnie's face, but he could imagine the expression it displayed with ease.

The tension between them grew. When was the last time Leo had talked one-on-one with his twin? He didn't remember it ever being this awkward.

The cramp in his leg let up a little. Leo gingerly placed it on the ground, testing his weight. The sooner he could get out of this situation, the better.

"I should go," Leo said finally, straightening. He turned. Donnie's arms were crossed over his plastron, examining him with narrowed eyes. Leo stepped around him, gaze avoidant.

He got halfway across the kitchen before Donnie spoke.

"How long were you out?" Donnie asked. "Your bandages are soaked."

Leo recognized the trap laid out in his brothers' casual demeanor.

"Not long," he replied, matching Donnie's tone. "Just needed some air."

"Hm, is that so? Because I've been up since midnight, and it's now--" He checked his com band. "--two thirteen, so unless you magically gained the ability to be quiet, I'm not sure your story holds water."

Leo resisted the urge to make a pun. "Hey, I can be quiet!" he protested.

His brothers (somehow) hadn't realized just how accurate Leo's ninpō had gotten in the previous months. He would prefer it stayed that way. (Raph definitely wouldn't be too happy to find out how much time Leo spent overlooking foreign cityscapes instead of sleeping.)

"Don't change the subject, Leo, I know what you're doing." Donnie placed his hands on his hips. (Did mutant turtles have hips?)

Leo held his hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. Fine." Prime example of a battle he refused to pick. "I lost track of time, sue me."

Donnie blew out a breath, and Leo knew they were entering safer waters. Works every time, he thought.

"Just tell me you didn't go far?" Donnie asked wearily. "Raph would freak."

"I didn't," Leo assured him. It wasn't a lie-- compared to his usual destinations, his trip to downtown New York was a novelty. "You aren't going to tell him, are you?"

Donnie hesitated. Leo's expression grew shuttered.

"No," he sighed. "Just-- next time you go out, could you at least leave a note or something? That way, if you get kidnapped by pirates again, we'll know where to look?"

"That was one time," Leo argued. Donnie sent him The Look™. "...Okay, two times, but can you really blame me?"

"Yes." Donnie stated the word without hesitation.

Leo hid a smile. It was easy, falling back into their familiar banter. He had missed this.

His legs gave a throb of pain and he winced. "I should go," he said reluctantly.

Donnie blinked, caught off guard. His gaze took on a hint of concern. "Oh. Uh. Right." He shifted uncomfortably. "Here. Do you... I can carry that for you." He gestured at the first aid kit.

Leo wanted to refuse, but he'd officially run out of luck. At that moment, his legs gave out beneath him. He crumpled, carapace smarting at the sudden movement.

"Leo!" Donnie knelt next to him, eyes dark with worry. "Are you okay? What's happening?"

"It's nothing, I'm fine," he groaned out. His leg gave a traitorous pulse, and he yelped.

Donnie stood. "I'm getting Raph," he decided.

"No!" Leo cried. "Honestly, Tello, I'm fine."

"Is that why you're laying on the kitchen floor?"

Leo swatted weakly at Donnie's calf. "No," he groaned. "It's just... the rain. Makes all my scars ache, and stuff."

"Oh," Donnie said. He returned to a kneel. "I... didn't think of that."

"'S fine," Leo grumbled. "Just need to re-wrap my bandages." Something he was not looking forward to.

His muscles slowly untensed, leaving a dull ache of pain in their wake. He let out a miserable sigh, closing his eyes.

In a moment, he'd need to get up and make his way to the bathroom. Though, he could probably get away with a few more minutes on the floor. Donnie had seen him through worse.

To his surprise, he could feel an arm slipping under his shoulders, helping him up. He cracked open an eye to see Donnie on his left side, bracing his arm on the wall as he helped pull Leo to his feet.

"Okay, come on," he groaned. "Let's get you to the bathroom before you forget how to walk again."

"Ugh, rude," Leo said, accepting his support. "You'd say that to an injured man? I'm on the cusp of death here, Dee."

"I'd say that to a dead man."

"What, was that a threat?"

"No, but it can be."

Leo snorted, then winced as they made their way down the steps. Donnie was careful, but not smothering, letting Leo lead. They limped their way to the bathroom, where Donnie set him down on a stool, flicking on the light.

"Thanks for leaving fucking puddles everywhere," Donnie said, lifting up his foot and shaking it. "Did you really not dry yourself off at all?"

"I dried my off my katanas," Leo defended. Donnie rolled his eyes and mumbled something beneath his breath. He turned and began rifling through the cabinet for a towel.

"Just use one off the floor," Leo said, kicking at the towels he'd discarded earlier.

"Those ones are shit," Donnie said, emerging triumphant with a fluffy, dark purple towel he must have hidden somewhere in the back. "Do you really want a sad, dirty floor rag? Not that it wouldn't fit you, but..."

Leo snorted, hiding a grin in the back of his hand. Donnie leaned over and swaddled him in the towel, wiping off his plastron with quick motions.

"What are you, some kind of towel elitist?" He leaned away, grabbing the towel for himself and pulling over his carapace. "smh, can't believe you were holding out on me." He rubbed his hand over the plush fabric. "I might be stealing this."

"Did you just say 'smh' out loud?" Donnie asked. "And absolutely not, I will destroy you."

"Then you gotta tell me who your dealer is, at least." Leo buried his face in the cushy material. When he spoke again, his voice was muffled. "This is exactly the kind of wasteful bullshit I need in my life."

"Frivolous luxury would suit you," Donnie mused.

Leo simpered up at him. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"Do you even know what that word means? And don't fucking simper at me."

Leo simpered even harder.

Donnie grabbed one of the towels from the floor and threw it at him. Leo raised his hands with a laugh, shielding his face.

Donnie snatched his purple towel back. "Shh! You're gonna wake the others."

"I'm not the one who decided to commit a hate crime." Leo took off his mask and placed it on the sink.

"I threw a towel at you," Donnie deadpanned. "How is that a hate crime?"

"Because you were being mean to me." Leo wore his best pout.

"That's not a hate crime."

"It is if you hate me."

"I don't think you know what that word means, either." Donnie opened the first aid kit, setting it on the sink. "Okay, sit tight."

Leo stuck his tongue out, but kept quiet as Donnie leaned over him, inspecting his bandages. Neither of them spoke as Donnie took one in hand and carefully began to peel it off. He grimaced as it exposed the puckered scar beneath, gently dabbing it with a clean pad of gauze.

Leo didn't bother to wince at the soft prick of pain. It was so minuscule compared to everything else he'd gone through.

The thought was a depressing one, draining the small amount of humor he'd managed to recover out of his chest. He slumped a little, studying the floor.

Donnie seemed to notice the change. He paused for a minute, thinking. Leo could nearly hear the gears in his brain turning as he puzzled out what to say.

"...I hope the rain stops soon," he finally settled on, cautious.

"Yeah," Leo sighed. He glanced at the wall, his jaw working. "I used to like the rain."

"Yeah? Oh, that's right," Donnie remembered. "You would always beg papa to take you up to the surface when it rained. And then Raph."

Leo nodded mutely, turning his thoughts over in his head.

"Its... I just..." Leo glared at the wall. "It makes me angry."

Donnie replaced one of his bandages with a new one and started re-wrapping his shoulder. "The rain?"

A sudden wave of emotion rose in him, and Leo's hands clenched. "No. The Kraang. That they-- that they took that from me." He glared at the floor willing his mouth to not wobble. Damn it.

Donnie didn't speak, but he rested his free hand on Leo's shoulder.

"It's just-- it's so stupid." Leo tried for a bitter laugh, but it came out wetter than he'd intended. He sniffed, trying to get a hold of himself.

"It's just fucking rain. But it's like-- every time it rains, I'm not gonna be thinking about how much I like it, or drag you guys out to stand in it. 'Cuz all I'm gonna be thinking about it the stupid fucking Kraang."

Donnie had gone still, but his hand remained on Leo's shoulder, a silent show of support.

Leo swiped a hand over his face. "And it's stupid, because-- we got rid of them! The Kraang are supposed to be gone, or whatever." His voice broke on the word 'gone,' but he persisted.

"But they're still here. Everywhere I go in the city, I'm reminded of them. They're like... a shadow, or something, looming over me. All the things I like, they've infected." He barked out a wet laugh.

"I mean, did you know the reason I gifted all my Jupiter Jim comics to Mikey is that I can't read them without thinking about the Kraang? And it's-- so stupid because I love Jupiter Jim. But now I can't even watch our favorite movies, because every time it feels like a punch to the throat!"

Leo was about to cry, something he really didn't want to do right now. He took a tremulous breath. "I mean-- isn't that stupid? I know it's stupid." He let out a shaky laugh.

"...I don't think it's stupid," Donnie offered quietly. He returned to his previous task of changing Leo's bandages. "I think it makes perfect logical sense. We went through something traumatic. Of course it's going to affect us negatively."

Leo laughed, sharp and bitter. "Yeah." He glared at the floor.

It was quiet for a long moment.

"I get it."

Leo looked up, confused. "What?"

Donnie worried at the edge of his mouth, intent on his task. "Do you remember when I took control of the Technodrome?"

Leo swiped a hand across his face. Guilt twinged in his abdomen. "Mhm."

"In order to create a connection, it had to--" Donnie cut himself off. "Um. It had to. Physically connect to me."

Leo froze. "Like... how?"

Donnie tapped a repeating pattern on the edge of his shell, before reaching for the medical tape. "It was... through my shell."

"Oh." Leo said. Then, "Oh."

"Yeah," Donnie sighed.

Leo scuffed his feet on the floor. "Shit, Dee, I'm s--"

Donnie flicked him firmly on the forehead. "Don't."

"Hey!" Leo cried, rubbing at the spot.

"If you're gonna apologize, apologize for something that was actually your fault." The words were spoken with the tone of one who is used to speaking them. "And anyway, it was my choice."

"You wouldn't have needed to choose it if--"

"Nardo, oh my god, I will smack you." Donnie pulled back. "I am trying to empathize with you here, why are you making this so hard?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Leo mumbled.

Donnie sighed. "It's-- well, it's not fine, but. It's a topic for another time."

Leo nodded.

"As I was saying," Donnie continued, "It was not the most pleasant experience, going into it. And-- well, I didn't particularly enjoy the hasty removal, either.

"But... I didn't mind it, being in there. It's just... it made me realize how much I'm missing. How weak I am, with my shell." Donnie rubbed an absentminded hand over the strap of his battle shell. "Sometimes I'll wake up, and I'll..." His voice dipped into a whisper. "I'll miss it."

He paused as if waiting for Leo to react. Perhaps with disgust, or anger. Leo did neither, covering Donnie's hand on his shell with his own.

"I know it's not a perfect correlation, but. It makes me... feel. Emotions. Things I don't like." Donnie rummaged around in the kit for another piece of gauze. "And I just. It's. Ugh."

"'Ugh.'" Leo agreed. "That's a pretty good word for it."

Donnie scowled at him.

"I'm being serious!"

"Ok, enough being nice to you," Donnie announced. "I'm leaving. Suffer."

"But Dee," Leo whined, dragging out the 'e'. "You didn't finish wrapping my shell."

"Urgh, fine." Donnie rolled his eyes. Leo resisted a smile, secure in the knowledge that he wouldn't have actually left.

They lapsed into silence again. Far above, Leo could hear the rain slowing, the downpour giving way.

Donnie finished wrapping his shell. He pulled back, considering. There was an edge of hesitation to his expression. Leo knew that look.

“What’re you—”

Donnie leaned down and pulled him into a hug.

Leo tensed for a moment, caught off guard.

Donnie was very particular about touch. He didn’t like casual touch, unless he was the one to initiate it. That, plus with the invasion, had made him even touchier about it than usual. Well, less touchier.

When was the last time they’d just. Hung out? Slung an arm over the others’s shoulder?

Leo closed his eyes and let out a shuddery sigh. He melted into the embrace. God, he was tired.

Donnie pulled back. He placed a hand on the back of his neck, mouth hanging open as if he’d had something to say, but had forgotten it.

“You’re bandages are done,” he said finally.

Leo glanced down. “Oh. Thank you.”

Donnie nodded stiffly, and backed off. “We should turn the lights off before anybody else wakes up.”

Leo nodded in agreement. He was surprised Casey hadn’t woken yet. He made to stand, the full-body ache in his limbs intensifying. His feet landed in a puddle of water.

"Hold on, I have to clean the water off the floor," Leo said, reaching for a towel. Donnie intercepted him.

"I will clean it up," he contended. "It's time for you to get to bed."

"Don't act like your sleep schedule is any better than mine," Leo returned, but silently, he was grateful.

Donnie switched the lights off behind them and walked with Leo to his train car. It wasn't necessary by any means, but Leo didn't mind. The sick, weary feeling in his gut had been replaced by something warm and safe.

He paused at the steps to his train car, turning back. "I think I can go to bed by myself," he joked.

"After tonight, I truly doubt that," Donnie said drily, but Leo could hear a hint of fatigue in his voice. No doubt he was bone-tired.

Leo shuffled his feet. "Um, sorry. I didn't mean to keep you up."

Donnie stared at him, letting the silence stagnate long enough for Leo to remember their earlier conversation.

"Please go to bed," he said finally, exasperated.

"If I must," Leo sighed, putting on an air of melodrama.

"You must," Donnie deadpanned. Leo stuck his tongue at him again.

With little fanfare, Donnie turned and began to walk away. Leo watched him go, mentally preparing himself for the strain of getting up the steps into his train car.

“Oh, hey, and Leo?” Donnie looked back.

Leo frowned in confusion. “What?”

Donnie smirked at him. “I changed my mind. I’m not cleaning the floor.”

Leo gasped, adopting a scandalized expression. “Liar! How could you?”

Donnie smiled evilly and disappeared up the steps into his train car.

Leo went to bed smiling.

In the morning, he checked the bathroom floor and found that it was clean.

[signs-of-the-moon]

Moon High: Chapter 18

The moon was nearly at its peak in the sky by the time Treeclan reached the Gathering Clearing. At the front of the chosen cats, Blazestar stood, with a stern expression fixed on his face. Clearly he had something on his mind, something he'd soon come to make everyone else's problem too. Moonpaw wasn't too far from him, seeing the anger blazing in his eyes as the orange tom turned to dismiss his clan. Moonpaw crouched a little as she passed him, not wanting to be caught in his path and bother him. She followed the tail of her elder friend, Badgerface, moving up to his side to match pace with him as he mixed into the crowd. 

"So what happened to the Moon after the argument with the ocean? I have to know!" Moonpaw insisted, wanting Badgerface to continue a story he'd been telling on the way to the Gathering. 

“Ah. Well, you see…” the elder started as they walked. 

Moonpaw nodded along to the old tom's words, searching the clearing with her eyes as they padded along. Slowly, Badgerface's fable faded into background noise. Soon, Moonpaw realized she'd drowned it out entirely. She was too occupied looking for Hazepaw to focus. She was eager for the white tom to pop out and surprise her–like he'd done at the last full moon meeting. Though many white pelts mingled through the clearing, none belonged to her dear friend. Disappointment began to worm its way into Moonpaw's chest. It must have shown on her face, too, as Badgerface gave pause.

“Moon, I think you should go mingle with some cats your own age now," he meowed, resting his tail on her back. 

A pang of guilt suddenly gripped Moonpaw. She parted her jaws, ready to apologize for losing interest in the elder's story. Then the crackly mrrrp of another cat split through the air. A trio of old warriors appeared a bear-length ahead. Oh, perhaps it wasn't her sullen expression that had made Badgerface stop speaking. Instead, the arrival of his friends must have prompted him to set the task aside, for now. A golden tom, a long haired spotted molly, and a white mangled faced tom trotted up to Badgerface. Moonpaw looked at them in awe as they greeted her elder friend. Their pelts were littered with scars, which spoke of battles Moonpaw would love to hear tales of.

Badgerface laughed with sarcasm as one of the elders quipped at him. Something about bothering young apprentices with helping him get around in his old age. Then Badgerface moved to cuff the old she-cat over the ears. Afterwards, he pushed the golden tom to the ground playfully, displaying how capable and strong he still was as a counter-argument. The scarred white tom simply shook his head with a smile at the display.

Moonpaw mrrowed with laughter as she watched the old cats tussling as though they were kits. It made her heart feel warm to see them so lively, even at their age. But it was clear Moonpaw wouldn't fit in with this group, so she allowed Badgerface to go on ahead without her.

Moonpaw's gaze flitted over the throng of cats, still looking for that familiar pelt. One did emerge, but it didn't belong to Hazepaw. Instead it was Deerpaw, Tigerpaw's brother. He looked a little skittish with enemy warriors pressed around him on all sides. 

Despite being a moon older than Moonpaw, this was Deerpaw's first Gathering. He'd been too nervous to attend his first few. But he swore he could handle going this time around. Moonpaw could practically smell his fear. Clearly, Deerpaw had lied. It was sad to see him in such a state. So Moonpaw made her presence known to him, gently pressing her flank to his. Though he jolted a little, the tom instantly relaxed, realizing a clanmate had come to his aid. Moonpaw urged him to follow her to a less crowded part of the clearing, where he could feel more secure. Upon receiving the space he so desperately craved, Deerpaw heaved a sigh. He sat back on his haunches, then looked to Moonpaw almost teary eyed.

"Thanks," he murmured before wrapping his fluffy tail around himself. 

"It's no trouble." Moonpaw twitched her ears. "Are you sure you were ready to be here tonight, chipmunk? You know you could always go home."

Deerpaw lowered his ears. "Don't want to..." 

Moonpaw tilted her head curiously. Deerpaw looked as though he were ready to pass out with so many strangers around. Why did he push himself to deal with such anxiety?

"I'm too grown to be scared of Gatherings. That's what Tinypaw said. I want to be braver, to make her proud," Deerpaw elaborated.

Moonpaw nodded, understanding his choice now. Tinypaw was his favorite littermate. It made sense he'd want to face his fear for her. Especially so they could enjoy Gatherings together, like tonight.

"Deerpaw!" 

Moonpaw swung around when she heard the high pitched mew of the pale tortoiseshell molly. Tinypaw came bounding over to them. Relief washed over her features when she saw her brother safe. Her tail raised in greetings as she got closer.

"There you are! I was starting to worry about you." Tinypaw rubbed her muzzle against Deerpaw's. Then she turned to Moonpaw. "Thanks for guiding him from the crowd. I'm sure the stupid furball was getting overwhelmed by the amount of cats around."

"...don't like strangers..." Deerpaw pouted and slumped his shoulders. Tinypaw moved closer to him, licking the tom over the ears. She was exactly his height, when he was sitting. 

“It really was no trouble,” Moonpaw assured with a tail sway, left ignored as Tinypaw fussed over her brother. Though she wished to carry on a conversation with her denmates–perhaps to distract herself from looking for Hazepaw more–it was clear she wouldn't get much out of the pair. After trying and failing again to catch Tinypaw's attention, Moonpaw padded back into the crowd. 

She mewed small "hellos” to cats she passed as she went back to searching for Hazepaw. Along the way she walked by Nightpaw, who was standing beside Wolfheart. Moonpaw's father was boasting about the apprentice to some of his friends, praising her quick wit and skills. Nightpaw was practically glowing with pride as her mentor spoke of her accomplishments. She looked up to him, it seemed, as she added in how good Wolfheart was as a teacher. Moonpaw had never seen the she-cat so happy before. 

Not far away, Nightpaw's mother, Darkfire, was standing beside two other tough looking warriors. Her claws were unsheathed as she told them about a recent Oceanclan skirmish she'd helped win. A close by sand speckled warrior had his eyes narrowed at her, clearly agitated by her recount of the event. 

There were others from Moonpaw's clan nearby as well, and cats she recognized from patrols and the previous Gathering. But none of them were Hazepaw. For a short while more, Moonpaw continued looking for him. But it did not seem like he was present tonight. Defeat weighed down Moonpaw's heart like a heavy stone. He promised he'd make it to the Gathering. Has something happened? She wondered. 

Moonpaw paused to look at Split Rock. Four of the five leaders were present atop the ancient cracked boulder. They'd be calling the gathered cats together soon, for sure. It looked like they were waiting for Brightstar to arrive. Moonpaw supposed she could wait in her place alone until the announcements began. It was a good spot to listen and be out of everyone's way. Then, someone called out to her;

"Hi, Moonpaw!"

For a heartbeat she perked up, turning around to see who'd called. Yet disappointment greeted her again as Sunpaw stood in front of her. 

"Oh, Hi Sunny.” Moonpaw deflated.

"You look a little down." Sunpaw blinked. Moonpaw gave a shrug. "Is it because you're lonely? I could keep you company, if you'd like?" 

Moonpaw thought for a heartbeat. Though she'd like to stay where she was, in case Hazepaw finally decided to show his face, she had to admit she was feeling lonesome. Perhaps spending time with Sunpaw could cheer her up. 

"I would like that, actually," she admitted. 

Sunpaw lit up. "Great!" He made a small hop. "Come with me!" Before Moonpaw could say anything about going elsewhere, Sunpaw was leading her through the crowd. 

Near a fallen branch, a few other cats appeared to be waiting for them. Moonpaw glanced at Sunpaw, confused. He seemed excited to meet with these other cats, his tail held high as he led her towards them.

"Hi everyone!" He chirped. 

“There you are, Sunpaw!” Purred a longhaired tabby with the scent of the mountains on her pelt. Beside her sat two Oceanclan mollies, sand dusted fur. Sitting opposite of them was a young muddy Marshclan warrior. And next to her were two slender Grassclan she-cats. They all mewed various greetings to Sunpaw, a couple stepping up to touch noses with him. Gee, Sunpaw's really popular with she-cats, Moonpaw discovered as she observed his group of friends. 

“‘Bout time you showed up,” grunted the only tom of the group, sitting off to the sidelines. Moonpaw couldn't pull her gaze from him once she looked over. Something about the tom seemed familiar to her. When she sniffed, his scent brought her an odd sense of nostalgia; the same way thinking about Skunkpaw or Rainkit did. But that was silly! How could she feel that way about a cat she'd never met? Was it a crush? Certainly not! But Moonpaw's head felt fuzzy the more she stared at the stranger. It was as if she'd met him before; like the tom had come from a dream. But Moonpaw was sure she'd never seen him until now. 

“I found my clanmate sitting by herself. Otherwise I would have been here sooner.” Sunpaw's voice drew Moonpaw out of her thoughts. Then his head tilted in her direction. “Everyone, this is Moonpaw. Moonpaw, this is Pinepaw of Mountainclan, Stemflower of Marshclan, Otterpaw and Whisperpaw of Oceanclan, and Heatherpaw, Quailpaw, and Rabbitpaw of Grassclan,” he introduced, pointing his muzzle to each named cat. 

Moonpaw nodded her head respectfully to them. “It's nice to meet you all.”

“So you are the fated moon spoken of so often.” Whisperpaw stared, her voice hushed and monotone. It was almost eerie, the way that she spoke.

“Does Sunpaw talk about me..?” Moonpaw blinked curiously, the fur on the back of her neck rising slightly.

“Sometimes he doesn't shut up about you,” Rabbitpaw snorted. Sunpaw's pelt bristled at the lynx point tom's comment. While Heatherpaw jabbed her denmate in the side with her elbow to be quiet. Moonpaw looked to Sunpaw, seeking an explanation. But he refused to give one, instead opting to lick down his chest fur. It was if he were trying to wash away the flustered feelings he was experiencing. Moonpaw resisted the urge to giggle. 

"Anyways! Uhm, last time we met up, Stemflower was telling us about what it's like to be a warrior," Sunpaw mentioned, trying to change the subject. 

"That's right." Stemflower flicked an ear, motioning to Rabbitpaw. "Rabbitpaw said he was interested in the duties I've taken up. I chose to be a Spy and a Gardener."

"What's a Gardener?" Quailpaw, a light brown tabby molly asked. 

"They grow plants on the dry land Mountainclan gave to Marshclan, in the pine tree forest," Pinepaw explained.

"I've never heard of such a job." Rabbitpaw swayed his tail.

"Us either," Moonpaw added while Sunpaw nodded in agreement. 

"I don't think the other clans are taught what Gardeners are. Considering they aren't needed out on the meadow, or in the forest," Stemflower told Pinepaw. 

"Why do Gardeners grow plants?" Sunpaw wondered. 

"For our medicine cats, mostly," the dark gray tabby she-cat responded. "Some herbs have a difficult time growing in the marsh. So we need to cultivate them ourselves. We also like to have plants for our dens; for construction and decoration. And we occasionally like to mix herbs in with our prey." 

"Mixing herbs with prey?" Otterpaw wrinkled her nose. 

Nasty! Moonpaw stuck out her tongue. She could almost taste the bitterness of the plants as she thought about having to eat them with her meals.

"Herbs can have nutritional value, besides those for healing," Rabbitpaw spoke up, "or so my sister, Mistypaw, says. So I guess cats are told to eat them to help make Marshclan's warriors stronger, right?"

Stemflower purred, looking amused. "Something like that. The plants we eat also happen to taste good with the prey we catch. Brightstar isn't ordering us to take herbs so we can be stronger than normal warriors, in case that's what you're implying."

Speaking of the Marshclan leader, Moonpaw began to scent the strong odor of mud and saltwater beside her, as the flame point she-cat walked passed. Her shoulder brushed against Moonpaw's accidentally, catching the Treeclan apprentice's attention. Brightstar turned for a heartbeat and flashed an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, 'Paw, didn't mean to bother you. Just have to get past to start the meeting!" 

Moonpaw smiled and stepped aside. "It's alright! I understand." It was almost awe-striking to interact with a clan leader besides her own. Most leaders would not mingle among the crowd for long after arriving at the Gathering clearing. But Brightstar seemed different. Though her clan was usually on time, she was almost always late to join her peers on Split Rock, it seemed. Moonpaw supposed she liked to spend time with her outer clan friends first. Or perhaps she liked meeting random cats, the way she was right now.

"It's an honor to meet you, Brightstar!" Moonpaw couldn't help but blurt out. 

Brightstar blinked, then let out a small mrrow of laughter. She flicked her tail with good nature, receiving a respectful head dip from Moonpaw in return. The other apprentices with her mimicked her motion. Moonpaw noticed her new friends looking just as excited as she felt when meeting Brightstar. 

Stemflower, on the other paw, nodded curtly to her leader, who brushed her tail along the warrior's shoulder. Then the Marshclan leader scurried off, taking her place beside Blazestar and the others.

"Let the Gathering begin!" Fogstar declared, looking down at the cats who gathered beneath Split Rock. Moonpaw made herself comfortable in a spot beside her new companions, tilting her head back to listen to the news of the evening. Sunpaw settled himself at her side, pressing their flanks together while they listened for news. 

Fogstar glanced between the other leaders seated beside him. They nodded, granting him the opportunity to speak first, once the crowd settled. 

"Welcome, everyone," he greeted, sounding as though he were in a better mood this moon than the last. "I come with much to report from Mountainclan. Firstly, my son, Darkpaw, has been accepted by Starclan, and will be training under Hawkfern as a medicine cat. Meanwhile our Code Keeper, Rockfall, has taken on Skypaw as his successor. Mountainclan welcomes these new apprentices, and hope Starclan will guide their paws on their journeys to become high ranking members of society." A pause was given so cats may call out the names of Darkpaw and Skypaw in celebration. Then, as silence returned, Fogstar continued; "Secondly, one of our warriors, Briarleaf, will be moving into the nursery after tonight. Her kits should come as Greenleaf arrives, and we are thrilled to welcome them into our ranks. Finally, Talonstrike has chosen to retire. He has served Mountainclan as a warrior for many years, and we are honored to care for him now, as he has cared for us. That is all I have to share this evening. Brightstar?"

Next, Brightstar stepped up to speak. "Marshclan also has big news to share, although not as joyus as yours, Fogstar. Coyotes have been spotted on the marsh. They're usually careful around clan cats. But this new bunch seems to be more tenacious than other families we've seen." Brightstar gave a moment of pause to allow cats to quiet down their murmurs of concern. "They also appear to be seeking territory to claim. My warriors have been doing their best to drive them out, so they will not stake claim on our land. But I believe this may push these beasts onto other territories in the Land's Star. So I urge you all to be cautious." Then Brightstar turned to the other leaders. Her expression shone with regret. But none of her peers seemed too upset by what she'd determined best for her clan.

"Which clan are they headed towards?" Blazestar decided to ask, his expression calmer than the other leaders'. Treeclan was the furthest from Marshclan. Moonpaw was certain that Blazestar was unbothered by the news of these unusual predators. Still, he seemed to care enough about the wellbeing of others to ask that question anyways.

"They'll likely turn to Mountainclan territory. With the upcoming warm weather, they'll probaby enjoy the cool air the higher altitude provides," the flame point she-cat answered

Fogstar grunted. "In that case, Mountainclan will increase it's border patrols." 

Another murmur broke out among the crowd. Moonpaw glanced between all the cats around her, gauging their reactions. Not too far off she saw Nightpaw. Her eyes were narrowed with interest, ears pricked and eager to hear more about the coyotes. Moonpaw then looked beside her to Sunpaw, who seemed to also have noticed their clanmate. He looked concerned for a heartbeat. Then he blinked and his expression settled. Moonpaw decided she'd ask him his thoughts later. 

Brightstar nodded. "Beyond that startling news, Marshclan has fared well this moon. Prey has increased, our clan is strong, and we look forward to Greenleaf. That's all I have to report." 

Following her, Blazestar stepped up to share whatever had been bothering him all night. "Treeclan is strong and continues to thrive as Greenleaf makes it approach. Though last moon we lost Skunkpaw, one of our apprentices. Twolegs kitnapped him. Our efforts to bring him home have yielded no results, but Treeclan remains hardy in the face of this tragedy. We've also been handling the pressures at our borders with diligence, and will continue to do so as long as Grassclan and Oceanclan keep pushing."

"What do you mean by that?" Oceanclan's leader, Wavestar, challenged. Whitestar of Grassclan nodded along. 

With a tail lash, the blazing orange leader continued; "Grassclan and Oceanclan scents have been caught beyond our borders. The stench of Grassclan has come particularly far into the forest. While Oceanclan remains close enough to the edge that they seem to be trying to act sneaky, still. But rest assured, my warriors are aware of your trespassing."

Dread struck through Moonpaw like lightning. Had some of her clanmates caught Hazepaw's scent on the Rubble Path from their meetings? Had they noticed hers there as well? Moonpaw's heartbeat quickened. She looked up to Blazestar, checking if he was eyeing her. But his focus was being held up by the enemy leaders instead. We'll have to be more careful from now on, she decided. Sunpaw pressed into her more, sensing her discomfort. 

"It's rich of you to accuse my cats of trespassing." Whitestar's ears narrowed. "Have you seen any of my warriors on your land? No? Because we've certainly seen yours on our territory! A warrior caught a Treeclan apprentice prowling around the Forest Patch without cause, just today!"

Gasping, Moonpaw whipped her head, looking around for her denmates. Sunpaw was of course the first apprentice she saw. His pelt was bristled and he shook his head at her, silently swearing he was not the guilty cat. Next, Moonpaw looked over at Nightpaw. The black she-cat appeared unbothered, busying herself whispering with Wolfheart. Then, Moonpaw spotted Tinypaw and Deerpaw in the distance--right where she'd left them earlier. Tinypaw was standing protectively in front of her brother; her body too small to act as a proper shield. Closer-by was Magpiepaw, who sat with some of her own cross clan friends. She was crouched, ears lowered a little. She looked frightened, guilty even. Was it her? Moonpaw wondered, finally returning her attention back to the leaders.

"There were other Treeclan cats with her," Whitestar continued, "all fully grown warriors. What do you have to say about that, Blazestar?"

Fury burned in Blazestar orange eyes. He grit his teeth, clearly holding back a growl. Then he shut his eyes, lowering his head a little with a slow shake. When he looked up again, he seemed calmer. "My warriors were only carrying out their duty to mark the border, nothing more. I will speak with all of Treeclan's apprentices, to ensure no border crossing occurs again. But I will not correct the cats who knew what they were doing."

"So you admit that you sent your cats to mark further into the Forest Patch than they should?" Though Whitestar's voice was calm, it held sharp accusation. 

"I've said no such thing!" Blazestar snarled. "My warriors know where Treeclan's territory is!”

With an indignant hrrumph, Grassclan's leader lifted a paw to lick. "See to it that they know what land rightfully belongs to Grassclan, as well. Or we will be forced to remind them ourselves." After glaring at Blazestar a heartbeat more, Whitestar faced the crowd. "Grassclan is and will remain strong despite the adversity. We have Cricketsong's newly named kits, who are quickly growing each day. We also have many strong apprentices; two of which will soon join us as full warriors. That is all I have to say this Gathering. Unless you've something else to accuse my clan of, Blazestar?"

Blazestar bared his teeth but bit back his tongue. He forced himself to sit further back onto his piece on Split Rock. Then he tucked his paws beneath his waggling tail. "No," he finally growled. 

Wavestar stepped forward. "Then I suppose I should speak my news," he decided. "Oceanclan is doing better, now that the Newleaf storms are subsiding. We've begun venturing back to the beach. We are also reconstructing our original camp, which was wrecked by the waves in the bad weather. I believe within the next moon, Oceanclan should be moving back to the Twoleg Settlement Bridge. That should bring you some peace of mind, Blazestar."

"I'll have peace of mind when your clan stops fighting for the Rubble Path," the ginger tom hissed. 

"I won't promise anything," Wavestar grunted. 

Blazestar snarled at him in turn, moving to get in the silver and white tabby's face. But Brightstar butted in, piping;

"It seems that's everything that needs to be said at this Gathering!"

"Yes," Fogstar agreed, "let's end this now, before you lot break the full moon truce."

Though the two toms appeared ready to continue their quarrel, they agreed. With a nod, the leaders went their separate ways, weaving through the crowd to gather their warriors. 

Sunpaw and Moonpaw took a short while to say farewell to their friends group before following each other to the edge of the clearing, seating themselves at Blazestar's side. Blazestar paused for a moment to rub against his son before calling to his gathered cats. He led them out of the Gathering Clearing and into the forest, but not before shooting a challenging glare over his shoulder towards Oceanclan. Moonpaw knew that tensions were high. But she hoped that things settled soon. 

[sexynetra]

1 16 19 and 29 for rawnsyf, please

1. What’s their love languages?

Okay so Anetra (like me) is CLEARLY gift giving she loves giving gifts it’s a way for her to show how much she cares about someone without having to actually verbally express her emotions. Marcia on the other hand I think is a combination of quality time and physical touch. Obviously everyone has some aspects of all 5 as far as I’m concerned but I think Marcia is really grounded by just being together and having that security that the tangible reminder of physical touch can provide.

16. What’s their favorite “domestic bliss” moment? Do they cook/clean together? Do they like to go out shopping together?

Marcia is a terrible cook, but when they eventually live in a place with a kitchen, Anetra starts teaching her, since Anetra grew up as an eldest daughter in a religious home and has a ton of cooking experience. Marcia really enjoys baking together especially but she loves to be a kind of sous chef for Anetra. They do (obviously) shop together, although it’s mostly Marcia dragging Anetra along and asking her opinion on everything she tries on even though Anetra says she looks amazing in everything (because she does)

19. How do they silently/subtly express their love for each other?

I think a lot of Anetra’s expression of love comes in the quieter more subtle ways. I think she’s a really good listener and she lets Marcia vent and rant and express herself as much as she needs and holds her hand through it and is there to comfort her or whatever she needs. I also just think showing up to every performance Marcia has, bringing her flowers, being the one cheering loudest for her. Marcia likewise goes to any performance where Anetra is dancing, or anywhere she’s showing her art. Marcia also shows her love by not so much toning herself down but being patient with Anetra, and allowing Anetra to have the quiet solitude she needs in order to open up and be comfortable. But likewise she brags to every single person she meets about Anetra’s accomplishments

29. What is something they can never agree on? How do they meet in the middle?

Uh. Is everything an answer 😅 they are very very different people with very very different personalities and opinions. Honestly I’m not sure they really meet in the middle ever they just bicker until it turns into making out

[famdommcfanface]

Masterpost

Previous post

“Whitesea? Good lord, no. You were heading for that backwater little town? Sounds like you really would do better with me. No, we’re going to Wolfrock, and if you think otherwise you have another thing coming.” Something dark enters his voice then, his posh accent slipping briefly, and you shiver. “Don’t look like that,” he says, his genial disposition returning. “I have... friends in Wolfrock, we could both do well there.”

“Fine,” you say, having no other choice. For now, at least.

“Very good. You’re not so stupid, then. Now, Ebony, it is time to get to work. These first few hours, everyone finding their way around the ship, luggage getting lost... they are invaluable. In order for my little ruse to continue, I must have sufficient funds, you see? And a gentleman really can’t be seen doing his own dirty work...”

You fix him with a hard stare. “You want me to get you money?”

“Primarily, yes. Gold, jewellrey will do well too, but nothing too recognisable. We are going to be on this ship with your... victims for about a week, remember. I do not want this traced back to me, and I doubt you want to spend your week in the brig.”

"I suppose not."

“We will have to do something about clothes at some point, but no need to worry about that now. So, go out. Find some coin.”

[goforth-ladymidnight]

16) 18) and 21) for brilin? I was thinking that they can be combined into one, but you could also choose one or two out of them. I do however demand them cuddling (if you feel like writing it ❤️ obv haha)

From this prompts list: 50 Reasons to Share a Bed

16) Because I prefer your heartbeat as my sound-soother,

18) Because I prefer your weight to my weighted blanket, and

21) Because you feel most protected with me.

I shared part of this story back in February wow has it been that long?! *checks calendar* Holy hell this ask was submitted back in January. Welp, and now I'm finally sharing it after months and months of stressing over the ending... I'm trying to embrace the mantra: "finished, not perfect", so I hope you like it!

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Title: Stay the Night

Pairing: Tamlin x Briar

Rating: Mature. Some spice, nothing explicit; references to past abuse and torture, but nothing graphic

Word Count: 3k

Summary: After finally sleeping together in her bed, Briar wakes up to find Tamlin is reluctant to stay the night after she has a nightmare, because he's afraid he'll make things worse. A direct sequel to "Love Bite" (also on AO3)

Read "Stay the Night" on AO3, or read on below:

The hounds were coming, and there was nowhere left to run. Naked except for the rags hanging from her bruised and battered form, Briar shivered as she stood near the edge of the cliff overlooking the King of Hybern’s war camps. A sharp wind blew at her back, whipping her hair around her face and threatening to send her over the edge. It was a long drop to the dark river below, but surely a less painful death than being torn apart.

The man who had freed her from the wooden rack by the king’s bonfire had promised someone would come for her. But as the eastern sky turned gray and the stars went out, she realized that the only ones coming were those serpent-faced hounds. Their unearthly howls, baying for blood, made her fall back a step. Loose rocks skittered beneath her bare feet and made her heart seize with fear as she toppled backwards over the edge. Her voice was so raw from smoke and screaming that she couldn’t even cry out as she fell. And fell. And fell.

Briar jerked upright with a hoarse cry. The water—no, the room—was pitch black, and she was alone. Alone and naked and drowning in an empty bed. Her legs were tangled in the sheets, and her cheeks were wet with tears.

“Briar,” a familiar voice said nearby.

She could have wept with relief, but her throat was too tight. “Tam,” she croaked.

The bed dipped as Tamlin sat beside her and gathered her into his arms. “I’m here,” he soothed. “It’s all right.”

She gratefully buried her face in the crook of his neck and fisted her hands in his shirt as she sniffed back more tears.

“Nightmare?” he murmured.

She managed a nod, but nothing more. It was only a nightmare, she realized, but the wisps of it still clung to her, making her skin clammy and causing her heart to race.

He began rocking her, gently, and pressed his lips to her hair. His spring forest scent chased away the memory of bonfire smoke and burning flesh, and she sighed. He had been there that day, she remembered at last. Someone else had come for her at the edge of the cliffs while a great golden beast fought off the hounds, giving them enough time to escape.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked softly.

She managed to uncurl her fingers and loosen her grip on his shirt as she began, “It was the hounds,” then froze as an eerie howl echoed through the night.

As more howls joined the first, Tamlin sighed, then pressed another kiss to the top of her head. “You must have heard the wolves outside. They’re just passing through the forest. They mean no harm.”

They sounded so similar to the cries of the serpent-faced hounds that haunted her dreams… “How can you tell?”

She thought she heard a smile in his voice as he replied, “Because they told me so.”

It was his forest after all: the High Lord of the Spring Court, the Golden Beast of the Woods.

Still, she was not entirely convinced as she pressed her ear to his chest, but she let the slow, solid rhythm of his heartbeat soothe her own. His arms tightened comfortably around her as he rested his cheek on her hair. After another minute or two, the last howls of those wild beasts—whether they were mortal wolves or faerie hounds—died down, and the night was peaceful once again.

She let out a relieved sigh, then turned her head to rest her chin on his strong shoulder. Running her hands over his broad back, she asked softly, “What time is it?”

He pressed his smooth cheek to hers and said, “Somewhere between midnight and early morning.”

Her gaze flicked toward the open window over his shoulder. Late enough for the moon to set, it seemed, but not early enough for the sun to rise. She pulled away and tried to make out his face in the dark. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” he murmured. His hand moved to gently brush the loose hair away from her cheek—for faeries could see in the dark—as he continued, “I didn’t sleep.”

“Even after…?” Making love, she wanted to say, but they had only done it once. Was sharing a bed with him the same thing? After all, if he hadn’t slept, she couldn’t call it sleeping together, and if he was already dressed, then she didn’t know what to call it. “…W-what we did?” she finished meekly.

He lowered his hand from her cheek. “It’s different for faeries,” he said quietly, and her heart sunk.  

She felt for the sheet pooled at her waist and lifted it over her bare breasts. “Is that why you’re already dressed?” she mumbled.

He at least had the decency to sound guilty as he replied, “I just thought I’d go into the forest for a while. I didn’t think you wanted to sleep next to me if I…”

He fell silent and stood.

She shivered in the night air breezing in through the window, and blindly reached for his warmth. “If what?” she prompted, finding his sleeve and gripping it.

He let out a long, weary sigh. “If I turn back,” he admitted quietly. Into a beast. “I dream about the naga-hounds, too,” he went on. “And the king, and the war, and…”

“So do I.”

He gently extricated her curled fingers from his sleeve. “You don’t grow claws when you do.”

“I’m not afraid of your claws, Tam,” she insisted, holding onto his fingers.

“You haven’t seen the state of my bed,” he replied evenly.

She blushed. “Well, I—You never asked—”

“For good reason,” he growled.

As she imagined it, what it must look like if he grew claws in his sleep, everything suddenly made perfect sense. It had nothing to do with her and everything to do with him… and the beast he was when she first arrived. There had been progress in the months since, but many rooms were still filled with broken and shredded furniture.

When she remained silent, lost in thought, he made to walk away, but she gripped his hand.

“Tam, please… Stay.”

“And risk tearing your bed apart, too?”

“If you don’t have a bed, that’s all the more reason to stay.”

He hesitated as he seemed to consider her offer. “This is your room, Briar. Your bed,” he said carefully. “You’re safe here… I don’t want to hurt you and ruin that.”

She couldn’t help her growing blush, or the shy smile that touched her lips. “I told you before… I liked it.” She could still feel his bite marks on her neck and breasts and thighs, and the delicious soreness between them.

He was quiet for a long moment, then he broke the silence by letting out an amazed laugh. When he was through, he sat back down and sighed. “You are a strange one, Briar Rose Greenwood,” he murmured, reminding her of their first meeting.

She smiled. “And you are rather thoughtful, for a beast.”

He leaned in, with his broad shoulders and quiet strength, bracing his hands on the mattress and sinking into her ready embrace as his mouth found hers in the dark. As his lips parted hers, she slid her hands beneath his shirt, seeking skin.

He shuddered beneath her hands, but he chuckled. “You’re cold,” he murmured against her mouth, and she grinned.

“Keep me warm, then,” she whispered, then pulled him down to the bed.

Sometime later, he sighed, and his breath was strangely refreshing against the damp sweat on her breast. “If I didn’t know better,” he said without moving, “I would think that you were using me as a blanket.”

The real blanket was somewhere on the floor, along with his shirt and trousers. With his head resting on her chest, and his legs tangled with hers, the comfortable weight and heat of his body protected her from all but the coldest of breezes still coming in through the window. Even so, it was more refreshing than chilling against her sweat-dampened skin.

She smiled up at the dark velvet canopy above them and began to play with his hair. It was like silk between her fingers. “So, what if I was?”

His answer was a low, rumbling purr that she could feel in her bones. “I suppose it’s only fair,” he said after a while, nuzzling his face between her breasts, “considering what a delightfully soft pillow you make.”

She chuckled, then laughed aloud as he gave her a playful nip. As he rested his chin upon her chest, she thought she could see him smile.

“I still find it difficult to believe that you aren’t afraid of me,” he murmured.

Her fingers paused in his hair. “It’s because I feel safe with you,” she mused aloud. “Even before I met you, you protected me from the hounds of Hybern. I’ll never forget that.”

He shifted his weight to look down at her, and traced one of the bite marks on her left breast. “After everything you endured,” he said softly, “I can’t imagine why you would enjoy this.”

She shifted beneath him, face flushing, and mumbled, “I don’t know… It’s different with you.”

She could feel him studying her, and she could imagine his pained frown.

She shrugged a shoulder and looked away. “I guess it’s because I know you’ll stop if I ask you to…” She blinked back tears as she remembered the smoke in her eyes, the flames, the pained screams, and the jeering laughter. “But in the camps… no matter how much I begged them… they never stopped hurting me.”

Tamlin shifted his weight off of her and rolled onto his side, pulling her against him, then kissed away the tears that threatened to fall. “I wish I could have saved you sooner,” he whispered, cradling her head and wrapping his other arm around her waist.

She slid her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder, unable to speak.

He hadn’t been there when the Children of the Blessed were brought before the King of Hybern, and for that alone, she was eternally grateful. If he had tried to set them free when the king demanded entertainment, the serpent-toothed hounds would have brought them back, bloody and swollen, paralyzed by venom, and unable to scream. It had happened before her very eyes, when one of the other Children tried to run.

“Do you still worship us, even now?” the king sneered as he forced them to watch their Brother’s torture. It didn’t end until nightfall, and even though she cursed the king’s name, she still thanked the High Mother when darkness came…

Tamlin brought her back to the present by pressing his lips to her neck, and she sucked in a sudden breath, grateful for the distraction as he laid her on her back.

She swept her tousled hair up and out of the way, then reached for him as he knelt over her, ready to forget about the nightmares for a while longer…

But he caught her hands, then pressed a kiss against the inside of one wrist. “Let me heal you,” he breathed, then bent his head and brushed his lips across the bite marks on her shoulder. “Let me do this for you.”

“Oh, Tam,” she murmured, reluctant to agree.

The faerie healers had done their jobs well that day, when Lady Viviane took Briar to the Winter Court camps after her rescue. They had healed her bruises, her burns, leaving her skin perfectly whole and pretty, washing away the scars as if nothing terrible had happened… but even magic couldn’t heal her dreams.

And now Tamlin wanted to do the same. A bite mark wasn’t the same as a burn, but at least it meant that she wasn’t broken, that she could still experience pleasure as well as pain… and even find pleasure in the pain. And he wanted to take that away.

He pressed his lips to the hollow of her throat, coaxing her. “Let me prove that I am more than a beast,” he whispered. “Please.”

His please melted the last of her resolve, and she found herself nodding. “All right, Tam,” she whispered, letting her hands fall to the pillow above her head. “I’ll let you.”

Whether it was his magic or his mouth, her skin tingled as he slowly kissed his way down her body. She gripped the pillow as his lips skimmed the tips of her breasts, but he didn’t linger. Her back arched with a surprised, hopeful gasp as his fingers slid over the soft hair between her thighs, only for that deliciously sore feeling inside to magically dissipate into mere memory. To her dismay, tears stung her eyes, and she let out a whimpering cry before she could help herself.

He withdrew his hand, and he stretched out beside her to cradle her face. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, but I—” She sniffed, but the tears kept coming. “—I wish you would,” she whispered hoarsely.

He huffed out a bewildered chuckle, and wiped away her tears with her thumbs. “Why?”

“Because—” She couldn’t hold back a sob. “—Because if you’re hurting me…” She tried to cover her face, truly horrified at her tears now. “Then they’re not.”

Gratefully, he didn’t try to soothe her or stop her crying. He let her roll away from him and curl up to cry, no matter how confusing it must have been for him: A human girl crying like a child because her lover refused to leave his bite marks on her skin.

After a minute—an eternity, really—his hand slowly stroked her hair from her damp cheek, and his gentle touch helped her catch her breath. She didn’t resist when he slowly curled himself around her and wrapped an arm around her waist to hold her close against his chest.

She sniffed, then was startled from crying when he gently nipped at her neck.

“There now,” he murmured, then nuzzled his face into her hair. “They can’t hurt you anymore.”

She closed her eyes and sighed, then pulled on his hand so that she could kiss his open palm. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Humans heal so slowly,” he explained gently. “I just didn’t want you to be in pain.”

She pressed her cheek to his palm and whispered, “I know.”

“Are you in pain now?”

“No.”

He was silent for a while, and she was grateful for the time to gather her thoughts.

As a Daughter of the Blessed, she had been taught that faeries abhorred ugliness. To be selected as a faerie bride or bridegroom, one must strive to be as perfect as their future partner. Scars and blemishes were covered up and smoothed away by special ointments and lotions. Therefore, she should have been grateful that the healers had made her skin so perfect after her rescue… but she wasn’t. And it ate away at her, from the inside out.

Tamlin gently turned her head and asked her, “Do you think you deserve pain?”

She blinked up at his starlit silhouette, shocked.

“Because you lived, and the others did not?”

She bit her lip as fresh tears threatened to fall, but, as she realized the truth in his words, she managed to nod.

Instead of chiding her, he gently brushed the hair back from her brow and went on, “You’re not the only one who feels that way, you know.”

She swallowed hard and rolled onto her back to face him, but she didn’t trust herself to speak. Not yet.

He propped himself up on his elbow and reached out with his free hand to gently trace her cheek with a single finger; she could have sworn his nail was the tip of a claw. “I never wanted to be the Heir of Spring,” he said softly. “In one night, I lost everything that mattered… and the only one left was me. I’ve never forgiven myself… and it’s been centuries.”

“Oh, Tam,” she whispered, and reached out to cup his cheek.

His warm lips brushed against her palm. “I thought I was easing your pain,” he murmured, then sighed. “My heart was turned to stone once, and I used to wish someone—anyone—would come along and curse me one more time, just so that I wouldn’t have to feel anything ever again.”

Overcome with emotion, she moved closer and pressed her lips to his. “I’m glad no one did,” she whispered against his mouth.

 He pressed his forehead to hers, and she heard a smile in his voice as he whispered, “As am I.”

His free hand moved from her cheek to her neck as he parted her lips with his own. She slid her arms around his shoulders and pulled him down on top of her as their kisses deepened.

When his lips moved to her jawline and down her throat, she took a deep breath and swallowed the taste of his kiss. “Thank you,” she whispered.

His mouth paused in the hollow of her throat. “For what?”

“For this. For healing me. I… I shouldn’t have gotten so upset.”

He breathed a heavy sigh against her neck before lifting his head to look down at her. She could just make out his strong features in the dark. “There is no need for you to apologize,” he said gently, running the back of his fingers down the curve of her cheek. “I’m the one who should—”

“No, don’t apologize,” she said quickly, covering his hand with her own. “You needed to heal me; I understand that now. You needed to heal me, just like I needed you to bite me.”

He curled his fingers around hers as he chuckled. “They’re hardly compatible,” he said wryly. “At least you wanted me to bite you, although I still don’t understand why.”

She smiled. “Maybe I can help with that,” she murmured, then gently nipped at his knuckles.

His playful growl was the only answer he gave before kissing her fiercely and pulling her on top of him.

When the sun rose, the great Golden Beast of the Wood was nowhere to be found. Instead, Tamlin, High Lord of the Spring Court himself, slept soundly in Briar’s arms and in her bed. And as for her nightmares… he helped her to forget all about them.