#the last text I sent to her (on her birthday no less) she didn’t even respond to and idk if her number is just fucked or smth

[victory-cookies]

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[wandanatsgf]

You Don’t Go To Parties Anymore

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Reader

Word Count: 794

Summary: Kate looks for you at her birthday party and then remembers she ruined the relationship the two of you once had

It’s Kate’s 23rd birthday party. Her stepdad is there. Clint and his wife Laura are there. Lucky is there. Yelena and Fanny are there. Everyone she loves is there except you.

Kate sits down on her couch, despite the joyous occasion, a feeling of sadness overtakes her. The one person she really wanted to celebrate with isn’t here and it’s all her fault. She’s the one who pushed you away. She’s the one who broke your heart, shattering it into a million unfixable little pieces.

So at her own birthday party Kate drowns her sorrows and before she knows it, it’s only her in her apartment. Her birthday has since passed and it’s now 5am. She’s sitting down on her couch, thinking about you and how it all went wrong.

Your relationship had started out great. The two of you were just two college students, having met in a business administration class after being paired together for an assignment. The two of you had hit it off. From there you started going on dates, getting drunk together on the weekends, going on picnics, and doing cutesy little things together.

Then Kate’s life changed. She became the new Hawkeye, her mother went to jail, and she had all of this responsibility thrust onto her.

The two of you had been fighting one day. What once was a rare occurrence in your relationship turned into an everyday thing. Kate normally started the fights, and thinking back on it she’s not sure why.

She loved your relationship. She loved spending her days with you doing nothing but enjoying each others presences. So she’s not sure why she told you differently. She doesn’t know why she had to blow her relationship up the way she did. But she had done it and now she has to live with the consequences.

Sometimes she thinks she just misses the days when the two of you were young and carefree. Maybe she just wanted to blame someone for everything that had been going wrong in her life. Her mom had just gone to jail and she had felt so alone. You just so happened to be there at the wrong time. If Kate could take back all of the mean words she had said to you she would.

“I just feel like I’m drowning and you being here makes everything worse. You’re always here smothering me in attention and loving me. It’s too much. This just isn’t working,” Kate had said, gesturing between the two of you.

“I just can’t. I don’t even know how I feel about you anymore. I think sometimes I resent you. You’re just a constant reminder of everything that I want and can’t have,” Kate said, detailing all her grievances of you. She goes on and on, her words becoming sharper the longer she talks. She was drunk and you both knew it, but it didn’t make her words any less painful to hear. It’s like they say, drunk words are sober thoughts. And if this is what she thought of you, you didn’t want to be with her.

She continues goes on and on, ignoring the tears falling down your face until you finally snap.

“I’m trying to be here for you Katie. I know you’re going through a lot but you’ve been treating me like shit lately. I’ve tried to forgive you, but this is crossing a line,” you sob out.

Kate finally looks up and she sees tears cascade down your face. She goes to get up, to comfort you, but you tell her to not.

“Just leave me alone,” is all you say. You get up and walk out the door to your shared apartment, slamming it behind you.

That was the last time Kate saw you. You had sent her a text the following morning saying the two of you were done. Then a couple days later you had some friends pack up and grab your stuff.

From what Kate had seen on social media you seemed happy. You had a new girlfriend, you were always out with friends and having fun. While Kate spent her days wallowing in self pity all alone. But maybe that’s what she deserved.

Kate spent all of her time alone. She never went out anymore, unless it was to do some super hero work. Or if Yelena dragged her out to a club or a bar. But even then she didn’t enjoy it the way she used to.

As time moved on and Kate went to therapy, she realized she had been projecting her own issues on to you. She had hurt you and now you were gone. So while you lived a happy life without Kate, she wasted away in your once shared apartment.

[btsficsandsuch]

Ps, Is It Okay If I Start Calling You Dad?

You have a daughter from a previous relationship. Yoongi has always treated her like his own. But when BTS becomes more popular he starts having to make sacrifices. Unfortunately, those come at the expense of your daughter.

You: Anna has a surprise for you for your birthday. Remember to be here by 5pm. Okay?

Yoongi: I’ll be there. I’m going to try and leave here by 4:30 at the latest so I’ll be on time.

You: You’re not going to get sucked into working all day and forget right? You promised her and I don’t want her heart to get broken.

Yoongi: Y/N I promise I’ll be there. I’m excited for this surprise. I know she’s been working hard all week.

You were currently sat in the dining room of Yoongi’s apartment reading the conversation from this morning over and over again. Yoongi promised he would be home by 5pm. Your daughter Anna had been planning a surprise dinner for Yoongi all week. She asked you take her to the store to pick out a new flannel for him and she decided on the menu you would cook which was filled with Yoongi’s favorites, she even made him a hand drawn card and on the inside she wrote him a small note but she had said she wanted it to be for Yoongi only so she wouldn’t let you read it.

Her biological father was never in the picture and after many guys rejected you after finding out you had a daughter you were so happy to find Yoongi. You had made it clear from the start that your daughter was part of the picture and would have to be part of his life if he wanted a relationship with you.

You were worried how he would handle idol life and being a father figure. At first things were great and he was able to easily balance everything. He always treated Anna like she was his own daughter. But as time went on and BTS became more popular he was having a harder time. He was beginning to miss dance recitals and basketball games. He missed more and more bedtime stories and wasn’t there the last time she fell and scraped her knee. You understood why this was happening but Anna at just 8 years old didn’t really grasp why Yoongi was all of a sudden spending less and less time with her.

You checked your phone and it was now 7pm. Well past the point of just being late. He had forgotten. You sent him another text but you knew it would go unanswered like the last four,

You: Yoongi where are you? Anna is getting upset.

Your daughter came and sat on the chair next to you, “He’s not coming is he?” You could see her lip start to shake. She was trying to be strong and not cry. “Why doesn’t he love me any more? Did I do something to make him mad?”, she asked letting a tear fall. You couldn’t bare to see her like this any longer and you’d had enough of Yoongi ignoring you. The least he could’ve done was call.

You grabbed your keys and started walking to the car, Anna’s card in hand. When you got to his studio you sat Anna on a couch just down the hall and told her to wait there for you. You were worried that your conversation with Yoongi would get ugly and you didn’t want her to hear that.

You let yourself into Yoongi’s studio using the passcode only you had. It was Anna’s birthday month and day and it made you scoff thinking of how he used to once be the greatest father but now you felt like the two of you were nothing to him. Yoongi didn’t even notice that you had entered the room. He was too busy with his work. You cleared your throat trying to get his attention. He started mumbling, “Not now. I’m busy.” You couldn’t roll your eyes any harder. “Yoongi it’s me. You know, the person you had promised you’d be home to by 5pm.”, you said with annoyance evident in your voice.

Yoongi spun the chair around,” Y/N why are you here? I’m really busy right now.” All you could do was laugh to try and stop the tears from falling. You spoke with a shaky voice, “You promised you’d be home to celebrate your birthday. Anna worked really hard and she’s devastated. She thinks you don’t love her any more and that she did something to make you mad.” Yoongi spins his chair around to go back to work, “That’s ridiculous Y/N. She knows I love her. I’m just busy. Tell her I’ll make it up to her.” You’re so angry you want to rip the headphones right off of his head. Your voice comes out a little louder than you had planned, “Why don’t you tell her Yoongi? I don’t think she knows any more. You’re never there lately. You don’t come home. You don’t go to any of her events.” You could feel the tears of frustration starting to fall, “Yoongi I’m tired of covering for you. I’m tired of lying and trying to make you sound like the good guy so that she doesn’t start to loose faith in you. You’re the only dad she’s ever known and she wanted to do something special for your birthday but you couldn’t eve-“.

Yoongi spins around suddenly cutting you off mid sentence. He walks over to you until he is inches away, “Y/N you don’t think I know that I’ve had to ignore her and miss things. You don’t think that hurts me every time. I have a job to do. A job that I worked hard for. A job I wanted long before either of you came into my life. I’m sorry that she’s hurt but I don’t have an obligation to be anything to her. She’s not my daughter.”

You feel sick. You thought he was different that all those other guys. You had been together for almost six years at this point. This wasn’t just a fling. Yoongi instantly knows he messed up, “Y/N I didn’t mean-“. It was your turn to cut him off, “No you meant it or you wouldn’t have said it.” You turn to leave but then you remember the card in your had. You turn around and shove the piece of paper onto his chest, “Here, your not daughter made you a birthday card.”

With that you turned around and pulled open the door storming out. Yoongi stood there watching. The last thing he saw was Anna standing in the hallway tears streaming down her little face. You took Anna home and tried your best to cheer her up. You ordered pizza and watched all of her favorite movies to try and get her mind off of what happened. You got her showered and into her pjs and you were tucking her into bed when she looked up at you, “Mom are we going to see Yoongi any more?” You didn’t really know what to say. At the moment you never wanted to see him again after what he said but not wanting to upset her any more you just smiled, “We’ll see baby.” Thankfully she accepted your simple answer and nodded off to sleep.

It was early in the morning and Yoongi was just getting home. He opened the door to the apartment and was greeted by balloons and streamers. The dinner you cooked was still sitting on the stove. A birthday cake in the fridge. Yoongi walked over to the table and sat down still holding the card you had thrown at him earlier. He hadn’t had the courage to open it until now. He looked down at the piece of paper. On the front a picture of a cat underneath the lettering ‘Happy Birthday Yoongi’. He opened it and began to read,

“Yoongi, thank you for being there for me and my mom. You make us so happy. I know you’ve been really busy but it’s okay. I know you still love me and I love you too. I think about you all the time and I hope you’re happy every day, not just on your birthday. Love Anna. PS, Is it okay if I start calling you dad? I’d really like to.”

Yoongi was sitting at his table crying. How could he have said those terrible things just because he was tired and stressed and upset because he always had to miss out on things. He knew he had to fix this but he also knew it was currently 2am and you were hopefully sleeping so it would have to wait until the morning.

It was 8am and you heard knocking on your door. Who could it be this early you thought as you swung open the door. You never would’ve guessed it would’ve been Yoongi. He handed you a bouquet of flowers, “I’m sorry Y/N. I didn’t mean any of it. It’s not an excuse and I’m sorry. I promise I’ll never do anything like this ever again.” You crossed your arms after setting the flowers on the counter, “Im not the one you have to apologize to because I’m not the one who spent half the night crying.”

Yoongi’s heart broke at your words. He hated that he was the cause of her tears. He cleared his throat, “Can I talk to her?” “If she will let you but I don’t know if she wants anything to do with you right now.” Yoongi walked back to Anna’s room preparing for rejection. He lightly knocked on her door, “Anna it’s Yoongi. Can I come in?” Silence. “Anna do you want to talk?” Yoongi heard a soft voice, “Go away. I don’t want to see you.” Yoongi didn’t want to push it. He took out a piece of paper he had and slid it under her door. He walked out to where you were sitting, “She didn’t want to talk to me.” You scoffed, “Can you blame her? You’re her world Yoongi. Sometimes I think she cares more for you than me. And you broke her heart. You said she wasn’t your daughter even though you’ve been her dad for the last six years.”

Yoongi sighed, “I know Y/N. I’m the worst. I’m really trying. Now that things are so busy I don’t know how to manage it. But I promise I didn’t mean it. I love you and her more than anything. I just don’t know how to fix it.”

You were about to speak when Anna came running out of her room with tears streaming down her face. She wrapped her arms around Yoongi and continued to cry into his shirt. You were about to get angry at him when you saw the paper she was holding. Yoongi picked her up and held her in a hug while you took the paper from her. The paper clearly had Yoongi’s handwriting on it. The note said,

“Anna, thank you so much for everything. This was the best birthday I’ve ever had. I love the flannel. How did you know exactly which one I wanted? The food was really good too. I ate all of it even though it was a little salty (don’t tell your mom). I loved the birthday card too. I’m going to hang it in my studio so every time I see it I’ll think of you. I’m sorry that I’ve been so busy lately but it’s not your fault. I love you and your mom so much. I promise I’m going to do better because you’re the best daughter anyone could ever have and you deserve the world. Love Yoongi. PS, I’d love it more than anything if you called me dad. If you still want to that is.”

You looked up at Yoongi who was still hugging your daughter. You walked over and joined in. The three of you were now standing in your living room crying. “I better get started on breakfast.”, you said after a couple minutes trying to get things moving. You were mixing up some eggs when you looked up to see your daughter running over and grabbing Yoongi by the hand, “Dad come see my new blanket. I got it a couple weeks ago. It has a picture of Jimin on it.” You couldn’t help but laugh as Yoongi faked disgust. He looked down at your daughter,”Jimin? Really? What about me?” Anna giggled, “You might be my dad but he’s my bias.” Yoongi rolled his eyes as he followed her into her bedroom listing all the reasons she should have a blanket with his face and not Jimins.

[heich0e]

the wake - miya osamu/f!reader (haikyuu!) part 8 in the bff!osamu series word count: 2.5k tags: angst, childhood friends to pining, every miya fic i write is just a thinly veiled love letter to the miya brotherhood and that is very clear here, angst gets worse before it gets better so be nice to me, ps: u ever heard the song vienna by billy joel?

The longest that you have ever gone without speaking to the Miya twins was thirteen calendar days—a single day shy of a fortnight—when the three of you were eleven years old. 

It all happened because you’d invited the twins over to see the brand new lava lamp you’d gotten for your birthday—the one you had been longing for relentlessly, and talked about incessantly in the lead-up to your big day—and, well, one thing led to another (as it often has the tendency to do when Osamu and Atsumu are involved) and the beloved lamp had ended up shattered across your bedroom floor only a few hours after you’d torn it from its pretty purple wrapping paper. 

Neither of the boys had been willing to take responsibility at the time, each pointing an identically vehement finger of blame towards the other, and they both refused to offer you anything remotely close to an apology—lest that somehow imply an admission of culpability. 

Your mother had sent them home after a stern, disappointed talking to and a call to their own mother (which she then echoed in a far less civilized tone when they returned home to her) and then they didn’t hear from you for almost two full weeks. It felt like an eternity back then, when life was small and days were long and just a couple of hours felt like a lifetime. You refused to come to your door when the two of them showed up knocking, didn’t answer any phone calls or instant messages they sent, and outrightly ignored them at school each day—hiding in classrooms on breaks between classes or behind the backs of other girls to avoid the increasingly desperate attempts of the twins to get your attention.

And so, on the two week anniversary of The Incident, the twins showed up at your door one last time—sheepish but earnestly remorseful—with a new lava lamp in tow. Thus the silent treatment was ended, reconciliation was struck, and there has scarcely been a day that passed since then where you had not been in some form of contact with the twins.

Osamu hasn’t heard from you in 6 weeks.

After the night of Atsumu’s party, he’d waited with bated breath to hear from you. His phone was on, sound at full blast and never too far from his reach. He knew it wasn’t really his place to reach out first. Knew you probably needed time to process things. To forgive him.

That first night he’d barely slept a wink, staring up at the ceiling of his living room, sprawled across the couch the two of you should have been sleeping on together, regretting every single moment of his life that had led him to this misery. He had texted you a simple: Let me know when you’re home safe please. It was a message he’d sent you countless times before, but never with so much urgency—but it went unanswered. It didn’t surprise him, even if it hurt. Even if it only added to the twist of anxiety turning his stomach into knots. More time passed. Seconds bleeding into minutes that turned into hours, each more agonizing than the last. He thought about calling you. Texting you again. Pulling on a jacket and chasing after you like he should have when you walked away from him hours prior. But he didn’t.

Osamu texted Atsumu first thing the next morning, with bags under his eyes and exhaustion in the marrow of his bones, asking if you’d made it back to the party safely. He’d wanted to reach out sooner—he’d had an entire sleepless night to think about nothing else, after all—but he’d waited for the sake of saving face with his twin. 

When Atsumu finally woke up and saw his message, replying back with a frightening ??? didn’t she leave with u?, Osamu’s worst fears were realized. 

After hearing from his brother, Osamu immediately texted your roommate—a girl you’d gone to college with, who might even have been considered your best friend had the twins not beaten her to the punch by about two decades. She and Osamu had always been on good terms, seeing each other semi-regularly over the years by virtue of their shared connection to you. You’d even once implied she had a little crush on him after Osamu had met her for the first time, though he had (for obvious reasons) never acted on the information. He felt no hesitation reaching out to her about whether or not you’d made it home the night before.

Yes.

Her icy reply came through almost immediately—even though it was early in the morning, even though he rarely ever texted her. The message was just three letters and a full stop, but it told him everything he needed to know: you were safe, and she knew what he’d done.

Osamu knew that the very least that he could give you in this situation was space, and he really did try, but he only made it two days of silence before he was reaching out to you again. His text had gone unanswered on that horrible, sleepless night where he had ruined everything, so after two days he finally tried to call.

It went right to voicemail.

His subsequent texts (and eventually calls) over the following days were similarly ignored, and every day that passed without hearing from you felt worse than the last.

Atsumu’s concern took root the day following his party, thanks to his brother's early morning text, and it only continued to grow. You were ignoring him too, the reason for which he had not the faintest idea, and the blonde inundated his twin for details as to what exactly had happened when the two of you had left his apartment that night.

But Osamu couldn’t tell him.

He couldn’t.

So he started avoiding his brother's calls and texts, too.

Osamu’s feelings for you were the only thing he’d ever, ever kept from his twin in all of their shared lifetime. And look where it had gotten him. 

But eventually—inevitably—Osamu finally broke. 

It was to be expected, really. He was hardly eating, scarcely sleeping, and any hours not spent robotically going through motions of keeping his business running were spent holed up in his little apartment. The apartment that now somehow reminded him far too much of you—like you had inked yourself as indelibly into the walls as you had the paint that you helped him apply when he'd first moved in.

Osamu showed up at his brother’s place at 11 o’clock on an otherwise completely unremarkable Wednesday night, still in his Onigiri Miya uniform, and as soon as Atsumu opened the door he burst—violently, spectacularly—into tears before he could even manage a greeting.

It must have been shocking, frightening even, for Atsumu to see his twin in that state. For him to have to help his brother’s crumpled frame across the threshold, over the step in the genkan, and to the couch in his living room—supporting the entirety of his weight to keep him upright. Atsumu had shown up a hundred times at Osamu’s door in not dissimilar states of heartbreak, but that was the first time he’d ever seen his twin—largely credited as the level-headed, rational one between them—like this. He’d always thought Osamu was just stronger than he was when it came to heartbreak; his relationships fizzling out with relatively little fanfare, and no substantial distress, and his exes sort of just faded into the background like they’d never even been there at all.

Atsumu never realized it was because his brother’s heart had never been theirs to break in the first place.

Osamu came clean that night in his brother’s apartment. Confessed to the sins he’d kept locked away in the recesses of his chest for so long, more fully and unequivocally than he had ever voiced the long-held secrets to anyone. And Atsumu listened. He didn’t tease him for his tears. Or berate him for keeping his feelings from him. Or yell at him for harming you and jeopardizing the friendship that the three of you had spent so much of your lives building. 

He just hugged him. Comforted him. Cried with him. Because that was what his brother needed from him more than anything else.

When Osamu calmed slightly, many hours later, Atsumu quietly admitted that he’d suspected there may have been feelings that his brother was harbouring but he’d never really known for sure. I figured ya’d tell me when you were ready. Those were the simple words he’d offered, with a little shrug and a gentle, wobbly smile. And it was the first time in all his life that Osamu realized that his brother had far more tact than he’d ever given him credit for.

Atsumu reached out to you again that night, though his messages to you for the past week had gone unanswered like his brother’s. He put his message simply. He told you that he knew what had happened. That he wanted to talk. That you were his best friend and he needed to see you.

The twins were laying side by side in Atsumu’s bed, neither asleep nor fully awake, when your reply came through.

I need some time, Tsumu.

The brothers shared a look across the mattress of Atsumu’s bed in the dim light of his bedroom, their eyes sore for crying and the harsh glare of the cellphone’s light.

They yielded.

A few day later, you finally reached out again, and agreed to meet Atsumu for dinner.

Just Atsumu.

The evening that Osamu knew the two of you were meeting without him, he was a mess. He burned half the food he tried to prepare at the restaurant, got a nasty cut on his finger when he was chopping carelessly, and almost charged a customer 250,000 yen for their 250 yen purchase. When the restaurant finally closed, he slumped over the counter with his head in his hands and waited.

Atsumu showed up not long after.

“It was weird," his brother confessed, fiddling with an edamame pod but never moving to bring it to his lips—curled down slightly as the corner as he spoke. "But I can’t go between the two of ya like this, and she can’t see me without thinking of you."

“She hates me,” Osamu rasped, a familiar, suffocating tightness swelling in his chest that had made a home there over the past two weeks. 

“She’s just upset,” Atsumu tried to console him, but Osamu could hear the wisp of frustration creeping into his twin’s tone. It wasn’t Atsumu’s fault—Osamu knew how hard this entire situation must have been for him, all as a result of the circumstances for which only he could bear the burden of blame. You’re Atsumu’s closest friend too, as much a part of the elder Miya twin’s life as you are the younger's, and Osamu didn’t take that fact for granted. Atsumu shut his eyes, sighing. “I think she’s confused, Samu. Hell, I’m confused and we shared a womb.”

Osamu’s eyes began to burn with a familiar, unpleasant prickle. He didn’t cry much about it anymore, now two weeks on, like he’d somehow run the well dry. But he’d occasionally get phantom pains behind his eyes, like the precursor to tears he knew couldn’t come. It was almost worse.

“I know,” the dark-haired twin finally muttered, his head hanging dejectedly.

“We’re gonna figure this shit out, but she’s gotta take some time to get things straight in her head first, alright?” Atsumu said softly, nudging his brother’s hand with his own, lending him encouragement in the warmth of their knuckles meeting. “Just give her that.”

So he did.

Osamu gave you another full month of time. 

Of space.

Of absence.

And now he’s here, six weeks to the day since everything went wrong.

Osamu drives home to Hyogo on a whim—the idea of spending another weekend holed up in his apartment, wondering each day if it would finally be the one where you call, is enough to make him feel sick. His apartment has never felt more suffocating than it has in your absence. Never felt smaller than it does without you in it, no matter how contradictory that sounds. It’s been a while since he went home to visit his mother and the boys from high school who stuck around into adulthood, and even though his childhood home is as rife with things that remind him of you as his current one, he can’t help but hope that the change of scenery might do him some good.

The Miya family home hasn’t changed much, if at all, since the twins were kids. As an adult, Osamu takes comfort from this fact—finds stability and familiarity in the walls and windows and roof that endure today in just the same way and in the same shape as they always have. His mother’s car isn’t in the driveway when he pulls in to complete the picture, but he hadn’t told her he was coming so he can’t blame her for not being there to welcome him. 

Osamu grabs his hastily packed duffle bag from the passenger’s seat of his truck, walking up the stone pathway his feet have trod upon so many times, in all their different sizes, to the door. He keeps his mother’s house key on his own keyring, because the last thing she’d said to him the day that he’d moved out—her hands, smaller than his own now that he’d grown so big, clasped around his as they held the little silver key—was that no matter what this would always be his home.

The genkan is the same. The coats in the closet are the same. The air smells the same, though there’s the faintest whisper of citrus in it as Osamu closes the front door behind him and toes off his shoes. His mother keeps two pairs of slippers at the door for him and Atsumu when they visit but his are missing for some reason, so he stuffs his feet into his brother’s designated pair before he pads off further into the home.

He can hear the television—the faint hum of a variety show or something similar drifting through the halls—and he laughs to himself that his mother has never quite been able to correct her bad habit of leaving the TV on even when she’s not watching it. He turns the corner into the living room, the sound of the television having grown louder the nearer he got.

And then he freezes.

The duffle bag he’d held loosely in his hand falls gracelessly to the floor.

And even though the television is right there, he can’t hear it anymore.

Because between him and the LCD screen, tucked under the kotatsu with a satsuma poised in hand half-peeled, is a face he hasn’t seen in six long weeks.

There, in the heart of the place that would always be his home, is you.

[demoneyecandy]

When the Rain Washes You Clean, You'll Know - Pt 1

I’m joining the hallowed fanfic tradition of using song lyrics for titles. Cross-posted to my AO3

Work: When the Rain Washes You Clean, You'll Know WC: 4.3k Relationship: Satan x Reader, Satan x MC AFAB reader, she/her pronouns and some gendered terms for reader Warning: Explicit, Minor Hurt/Comfort

Description:  M/C is having some family issues. Who could understand better than Satan? And if he can take advantage of the opportunity to be with the person he's been pining for, and ruin his brother's day? Even better.

All of this had started when Satan had found her sulking in the library, looking out the window at the rain with a pillow clutched to her chest. She’d made the mistake of not answering with more than a shrug when he’d asked what was wrong – she couldn’t help it, his eyes were just so earnest and he seemed so concerned, lying felt wrong but she wasn’t in the mood to talk about it. Not quite sure why she drew the line at lying to a literal demon, but there it was. She’d thought maybe she’d averted one of the brothers’ standard over the top reactions when Satan left the library, only for him to return shortly with her rain jacket, boots, purse, and his own cartoon cat-covered umbrella. She recognized it as the one she had given him for his last birthday and her heart did skip a little, realizing that he actually used it.

“Satan, this really isn’t necessary” the human had tried to reassure him when he knelt down at her feet to trade her slippers for rain boots.

“Well, I say that it is” he replied in a flat tone, leaving no room for argument.

M/C sighed, resigning herself to whatever he had planned for their day. Grabbing her DDD, she sent off a text to Lucifer letting him know that Satan was taking her out. The last time she had let Satan whisk her away for an impromptu day trip he’d also pocketed her phone to ‘live in the moment’, but when she came back home to the other brothers forming a search party (complete with a full-on dossier including her last known whereabouts), she realized from his smug little grin that he was just messing with Lucifer. He’d had his ‘M/C Privileges’ revoked for two weeks, causing a meltdown of epic proportions.

After he’d guided her arms through the raincoat she rose to her feet and took her purse from the demon. He sent a sly grin her way, flipping the hood over her head playfully. Making an annoyed noise, she flipped it back to see Satan’s elbow out and ready for her to loop her own arm through. With that, she let her demon lead her out through the House of Lamentation and into a stormy Devildom afternoon.

Thirty minutes later they were drying off in a cat café that M/C was 80% certain had been founded for the sole purpose of getting in the fourth-born’s good graces. It totally worked. She cupped her hot chocolate between her sweater-covered hands and took joy in the presence of a little tortoiseshell cat curled up on her lap. The human knew better than to think Satan was going to let what he saw earlier go, but he knew better than to force her… yet. He seemed happy enough with that approach, holding his mug of tea in one hand and using the other to lavish affection on a lucky gray kitten that had hopped up onto the table. She laughed internally at the sight, knowing she was going to have to make sure that cat didn’t get smuggled home in her purse. They each basked in the experience of each other’s company, mostly in silence, until the café closed a few hours later.

It was on their walk home (after M/C caught Satan trying to smuggle no less than three kittens in his jacket) that the demon made his move.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She sighed. “Not really, but I don’t think you’re going to drop it”.

He turned to her and beamed, “Nope, not at all”.

“Fine. You know I don’t really have the best relationship with my Dad. He forgot my birthday again and still hasn’t said anything”.

Satan stopped in his tracks. “Wasn’t your birthday two weeks ago? Wait- again?”

“Yep, third time in a row” she kept walking, wanting to get out of the rain (and away from this conversation) sooner than later. Satan caught up with no difficulty.

“I thought my father was a dick, but that’s just plain rude”.

“Don’t you just prefer to call Lucifer your brother?”

“He’s my brother or my father depending on which is funnier at the time” he smirked.

She couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “Fair enough”.

They walked in silence for another few minutes, side by side, their hands occasionally touching.

“So” Satan began, “want me to have a chat with him?”

She laid a hand on his shoulder and spun him to face her. The human looked up into his cat-like eyes, somehow summoning some sense of authority into her voice despite the full foot he had on her height-wise. “Satan, I cannot be more clear. You do not have my permission to torture my Dad. He’s a shit dad, but not bad enough to warrant intervention by demons, especially you”.

Satan glanced down at you proudly. “That just sounds like you’re acknowledging that I’m the best at what I do”.

She gave him an unimpressed look, not letting him derail her train of thought with his stupid, cute face. He pouted, folding his arms and making a noise. “Fine, but only because you’re cute when you’re serious”.

At his teasing M/C’s face turned bright red and she sped off towards their home, as though putting space between them physically would do anything to prevent him from realizing how flustered she was. She heard his laugh behind her and her heart beat even faster at the sound. She was so busy trying to somehow fast-walk away from her own feelings that she didn’t notice the crack in the pavement up ahead. The same crack that she successfully avoided daily on their walks to and from school, every weekday for who knows how long, but that she wasn’t able to successfully avoid this time. One second M/C was scooting through the rain and away from the demon that occupied her daydreams, the next she was face-first on the ground and that demon was by her side, checking her over for any injuries.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his face suddenly serious.

She couldn’t do anything but laugh at her own mistake, surprising Satan. His confusion morphed into a fond smile as he realized she really was okay, and he joined in. The human shrieked and laughed even harder as she felt herself be lifted up into his arms, grabbing onto his shoulders.

“Hold this?” Satan handed her the cat umbrella and shifted to get a more solid grip on his human. He quickly worked up to a jog to get them both home quickly, the rain seemingly not affecting his speed or agility at all.

Despite a brief stop in the front hall to ditch their rain gear the two of them somehow made it up to her room without being stopped by any of the other brothers. M/C was thankful, not sure she would’ve survived the embarrassment. Satan bumped the door shut with his hip and placed her on the ground. Before she could thank him for the day out and send him on his way so she could lick her wounds (literal and metaphorical) in private, he started digging in her closet for her towels.

“Go warm up in the shower, I’ll be back soon with a first aid kit to make sure nothing gets infected. Rainwater can be full of bacteria and pollution”. Once again, no room for argument. She took the towel he’d pulled out for her from his arms and headed into her bathroom, locking the door behind her.

M/C took what some may call a gratuitously long shower, but she’d had a long day - let her enjoy herself. The showers in the House of Lamentation were second only to the showers in the Demon Lord’s Castle – the water pressure and temperature was unreal. She didn’t know how she was going to adjust back to living in shitty apartments in the Human Realm, but that was a problem for future M/C. Hopefully very far in the future. Fully refreshed, she had almost forgotten that Satan hadn’t left for the night. If she wasn’t so used to strange demons coming into her room at all hours she might have been more startled to see Satan sitting on her bed with a first aid kit, waiting for her. What did startle her however was the fact that she could see Satan’s hair was unkempt and damp, and that he didn’t appear to be wearing more than a white towel wrapped around his hips. She dropped her dirty clothes into the laundry hamper, except for her bra which she hung to dry and planned to wash separately. It was one of her nice ones, she wasn’t going to let their washing machine eat up the lace.

“I was wondering when you’d be out. Did you have a nice shower?” M/C didn’t trust her voice to respond, so she just nodded when he turned to face her. He patted the bed next to him and smiled expectantly. She made her way over and sat down, clutching her towel closer to her chest. He gestured to her arm, and she swapped the hand gripping her towel so she could give him the arm closer to him to examine. Painstakingly, Satan examined both of her arms to disinfect and bandage the scrapes from her fall. He moved to the floor between her legs, kneeling before her. She tried to close her legs, but he put his hands between her knees to prevent them from shutting.

“Can I make sure there’s no injuries on your legs?” he asked in a calm tone and made eye contact with the human, almost like he was trying to calm an animal that seemed ready to bolt. She paused for a moment – she knew he would stop if she told him to. But… should she ask him to stop? To give her some space, leaving out the part about how him being between her legs gave her unholy thoughts? Satan was arguably the most trustworthy demon she knew. Not to mention her not-so-little crush on him. Honestly, that was what gave her pause. What if she made it weird? What if he just saw her as a friend? Well, she was already in the Devildom. If she died of embarrassment she wouldn’t have to go far. So, she took a deep breath, and as she exhaled she spread her legs to give Satan room to work. He thanked her under his breath and went to work, focusing on the scrapes on her knees. When he cleaned the knee that took the brunt of the fall she inhaled sharply at the sting of the disinfectant, only for one of his hands to find hers for comfort. The human looked down and saw the care in the way he touched her. It was almost funny for the personification of wrath to be so concerned with inflicting the slightest bit of pain on her and it only softened her heart further.

When Satan looked up, he saw the blush on his human’s cheeks and the affection in her eyes and decided to take a chance. He smiled and got up to throw away the trash and place the first aid kit in the bathroom for her to have supplies to change her own bandages later if necessary. He came back to the bed and sat beside her, taking both of her hands in his.

“I need you to know why I’m so upset on your behalf”. He spoke tenderly. It brought him no shortage of amusement that he could see his human’s eyes tracing a stray water droplet as it trailed down his neck, over his collarbone, down his chest and past his towel. Her eyes lingered on the pronounced V of his hips and he could swear he saw her lick her lips subconsciously, as though she wanted to lick his skin dry. As he began to speak, her eyes jumped up to meet his entrancing green eyes.

“You are so wonderful. You’re kind, smart, and thoughtful. I’m always laughing when I’m with you. I can’t imagine being in your life and taking you for granted. I don’t want you to think that you’re not absolutely everything. You’re our everything here. You’re my everything”. She felt her mouth gape, not having any clue where this was coming from. Did she crack her head open when she fell? Was this a coma dream? She was pretty sure those were a thing, but she wasn’t a doctor. Before she could spiral any further, she felt his hand come up and gently cup her jaw.

“M/C, will you let me worship you tonight?”

Before she could spend too much time thinking about the right way to respond to something so romantic, she heard an almost too enthusiastic “Fuck yes” leave her mouth. And before she could panic about that, she felt his lips on hers. Gently at first, to test the waters. He moved his lips against hers reverently, like she was a sacred place and he was a pilgrim at the end of a long journey. Her hands came to lay around his shoulders and Satan’s free hand laid on her thigh, gripping it lightly. The more time went on the more they began to melt into each other. At the first breathy moan that left M/C between kisses, it was like a switch went off in Satan. He redoubled his efforts, pressing against her with more insistency and his hand moving from its grip on her thigh to her waist, gripping even tighter through the layer of her towel. Their gasps filled the air alongside the sound of their lips meeting.

“So fucking hot” he moaned, tightening his grip to the point it almost hurt.

“Please, Satan. I need more” she begged. Not wasting any time, he twisted them around until her back hit the bed and he straddled her waist. Her kiss-bitten lips and lust-filled eyes sent chills up his spine. Every naughty fantasy he’d ever had of the two of them came to the forefront of his mind and he tried his best to sift through them all, trying to choose the best one to show her the depths of his passion. Before he could decide, he felt the towel at his waist begin to slip. He shifted his weight to his knees to catch it, but he felt a human-sized hand grab at his wrist.

“Please?” her voice was softer than it had been, showing some hesitancy, like she wasn’t sure how far she could push this.

“Anything for you, sweetheart. My heart and my body are yours”. M/C could practically feel her own face heat up at the term of endearment. It felt like she was in a romance novel the way he expressed his devotion so whole-heartedly. Her hand stayed on his wrist as the other came up to untuck the towel from his waist.

“Holy fuck Satan, how were you hiding this in your pants?”, she almost sounded indignant. The demon burst out laughing, glad he wouldn’t have to second guess if she liked the way he looked underneath his clothes. He threw the towel into the laundry hamper near the bed, eager to get it out of the way now that he’d been given the go-ahead. He wasn’t scarily long – it seemed proportional to his height, but he was much thicker than any of the humans she’d been with. She almost wanted to ask if this was normal for demons or if he was particularly well-endowed, but she didn’t want to risk him thinking she was asking because she wanted another demon, so she decided to save that question for her and Asmo’s next self-care night. Preferably after he’d had enough demonus that he was unlikely to remember.

Breaking free from her thoughts, she took him in her hand. Half exploring and half trying to stroke him to full hardness, she tried to get a feel for how he liked to be touched. The breathy moan she earned through a hard grip and slow strokes hinted she was at least going in the right direction.

Through his growing haze Satan asked, “Can I see you too?”

M/C nodded, using the hand that had been wrapped around his wrist to untuck her own towel and toss it carelessly to the floor, pulling him back to her to kiss him hard. Wanting to see her but making use of the patience honed through the millennia of his existence, he let her take control of the kiss and instead tried to focus on the feel of her tongue in his mouth and her hand on his cock. If he had ever been in the Celestial Realm as his own being, he would imagine that this was what it felt like. To be enveloped in the love of his human as they tried to learn each other’s bodies, the sound of the storm still audible against the window panes. He was often envious of his brothers, but not this time. They’d experience this particular heaven over his dead body. Satan felt his possessive streak flaring up and he knew he would do whatever it took to keep his human in his arms until the end of his days. He was brought out of his head once again once the human shifted their focus to teasing the head of his cock. Unable to hold back the moans, he pulled back from the kiss only to shift to leaving marks down his lover’s neck. Sharp nips and sucks drew breathy moans from her, and satisfied sighs when he gently soothed the sting with his tongue.

He spent extra time on her collarbones, obsessed with how easily the red marks bloomed for him just on the edge of where they’d be visible in her usual attire. In his head he could see them at breakfast the next morning. M/C would be wearing her usual weekend attire. Of course, she’d cover her neck with makeup or maybe a scarf, but maybe she’d assume her collarbones would be covered by her shirt? What if she were to move just-so and the hem of her neckline shifted, showing off the marks he so carefully left for her to appreciate? Of course Asmodeus would notice, he never missed an opportunity to stare at her tits. No way he wouldn’t make a big deal about it, drawing the attention of the others. He could practically taste how lovely it would feel to feed on his brothers’ wrath. It also had the added bonus of making sure the others knew she was his – always had been and always will be.

Content with his little daydream, he continued downward to his human’s chest. Her fingers grasped at his hair to ground herself as he teased her nipple to hardness with his tongue, stimulating the other with gentle circles using his thumb. Cupping them in his hands, he took the opportunity to lean back and appreciate M/C. His eyes scanned her nude body for the first time, appreciating every curve and dimple, committing every scar and freckle and mole to memory. From her flushed skin to her messed up hair, she looked absolutely wrecked. He moved his hand to tease the marks he left all over her neck and chest, tracing each one.

“Satan, please, don’t make me beg. I want you inside of me.” she was surprised how pathetic she sounded to herself and possibly more surprised at how Satan’s eyes dilated and his smile grew at the sound, like he was a fox that had spotted a hare.

“But you sound positively sinful when you beg, and you know how us demons love to bask in sin” he replied.

Rolling her eyes, she grabbed one of his hands to drag it down her body to her core. Not willing to pass up an opportunity to be a little shit, kept moving downward until he landed at the underside of her knee.

“Seriously?”

“Shush, I’m a romantic, let me enjoy our first time together. I said I wanted to worship you, didn’t I?”

“Fine. You’re lucky you’re cute”. M/C huffed.

“Thank you for indulging me, your graciousness knows no bounds”. Before she could bite back another response, Satan parted her legs and descended on her inner thighs. Kissing and biting, he cut off her smartass reply and it was replaced by the loudest moan he’d gotten all night. The way he held her legs in place was as delicate as when he had been checking her over for wounds, providing a lovely contrast to way he attacked the soft flesh of her thighs.

“Sensitive?”

“I will end you if you don’t touch me where I want you right now, you ridiculous little furry”. This was the kind of shit that made him fall head over heels in love with her. She wasn’t afraid of him, she saw him as more than his sin. She saw all of them as more than their sins, but right now he was only concerned with the two of them. He didn’t think his smile could grow any wider without becoming distinctly inhuman, and while he was pretty sure she’d be into that, today wasn’t the day to drop that on her. Instead, he hooked her legs over his shoulders and dove between her legs with an enthusiasm he hadn’t felt for sex in centuries, if ever.

Her thighs locked around his head and her hands threaded through his silky blonde hair, throwing her head back and screaming his name. The sound was muffled by her legs covering his ears, but she was loud enough that he heard it loud and clear. It motivated him to show her just how agile his tongue was, to ruin her for human partners and other demons alike. He focused his mouth on her clit, rubbing her hips with his thumbs to soothe her as he overwhelmed the human’s senses. Satan’s tongue felt unbelievably long on her sex, somehow seeming to simultaneously cover her entirely and focus in on the spots that made her buck her hips involuntarily and grind down onto his face. She had never felt so overstimulated before and couldn’t help but continue to moan as he brought her closer and closer to climax. She was helpless to do anything but vocalize her pleasure as he ate her through her orgasm and beyond, her body tensing and twitching as he lapped up her release. When her noises of pleasure turned to noises of discomfort, Satan managed to make his way out from between her legs, stroking the outside of her thigh and using a gentle voice to guide her back into her body.

“Holy fuck. Where did you learn to do that?” she panted as she tried to catch her breath. She caught his eye, appreciating how his face was shiny with her slick. She felt her arousal returning against all odds as he grinned wickedly and licked it all off of his face with a tongue that looked different from usual - too long for his mouth, but lined up more with what she felt on her sex.

“I’m Satan, remember? What kind of great corrupter of mankind would I be if I couldn’t eat pussy?” He flopped down next to her as they laughed, basking in the afterglow.

“I’m still pretty sensitive, but I can touch you in the meantime if you’d like?”

“No, let’s just stay like this for a bit. I want to cum for the first time inside of you, if you’ll allow me”.

Her eyes grew large and she felt herself almost salivating. “Yep, yep, sounds great, good, let’s do that”.

Her demon laughed again, loving how awkward and enthusiastic she was even after it seemed like he’d given her an out-of-body experience.

“Oh, wait, can you let Lucifer know that we’re back? I don’t want you getting in trouble for ‘stealing’ me again”. As M/C curled up on her side and drew the covers up over her, Satan paused. His eye caught the lacy black bra hung on the doorknob of her closet.

“Of course, love”. He was the co-chair of the Anti-Lucifer League. He couldn’t pass up this opportunity. So, before he curled up into her side to be her big spoon, he decided to snap a picture of the bra hanging there. He opened up his DDD, holding it in one hand and stroking her arm gently with the other. It conveniently showed a notification that Lucifer had texted him about half an hour ago.

Lucifer: Have you and M/C returned? The weather is getting worse and it is almost time for dinner. Lucifer: M/C is not answering her DDD. Will you please update me on the situation once you see these texts? Lucifer: Satan. If this is a repeat of last time I will make you wish that I just strung you from the ceiling like Mammon.

Perfect.

Satan: Don’t worry big brother, M/C is inside and safe from the storm.

The eldest brother responded almost immediately.

Lucifer: It took you long enough to respond. I will be speaking to you about this after dinner. I hope you’ve made sure she’s eaten, it’s past dinner time and I can’t guarantee that Beelzebub has not gotten into the leftovers. Satan: Don’t worry, she’s having a great time.

*one image attached*

Lucifer: What. Is. That. Satan: Sorry, I’d assumed you’d seen a woman topless before. Silly me. That’s a bra, it’s a type of undergarment women wear to support their breasts. Lucifer: I know what a bra is. Why do you have a picture of what I can only assume is M/C’s bra taken from inside her room? Satan: Oh, I think you know, brother.

He nudged the human beside him, who was enjoying the skinship and starting to drift off to sleep.

“Hey, wanna mess with Lucifer?”

“Always”

“Can I take a picture of you in bed? You can cover as much of your skin as you want”.

She took a moment to think. “Sure, why not?”

He knew he loved her for a reason.

[libra-stellium]

Pluto in Aquarius - 12H Transit

Reflecting on Friendships

The last time pluto was in aquarius was March 23 - June 11 2023 and during that time was when a friend of 8/9 years ghosted me in early March and I tried to mend things during that 3 month period and the last time we had a conversation was June 10 2023 lol (we did tell each other happy birthday and thank you in Sept and Nov after that but no actual conversation)

Then this year pluto goes into aqua again on Jan 20 2024 and I tell a couple friends about how my TikTok FYP gets sooo many of her reposts about fake friends and hating people who aren’t confrontational and how nobody knows how to communicate lol so I liked one of them and they stopped! Then like 2 weeks later there’s a repost about getting confronted about reposts and how you can’t take anything online seriously 😂 but there’s been 0 reposts since so I think it worked 🤷🏾‍♀️

Then on Jan 29 I had a dream that I was in a groupchat with her and other people who I used to be friends with in college but my friendship with them didn’t make it past that so I guess they ended like 5 years ago? We would sometimes do group things but it quickly died down. They’re all still friends tho I think. Anyway so in this dream one girl sent a longgggggg ass message about all the things she hated about me �� (my dreams are always dramatic lmfao) and that girl who ghosted me was hearting the messages within seconds like she was right there when it was written!! Lmao message received!! I don’t think they actually hate me to this extent irl but I’m a Pisces rising so my dreams don’t lie 🤷🏾‍♀️

And this entire week I’ve been thinking about what I actually want out of friendships and that friendship wasn’t bad but it also wasn’t completely what I wanted in a friendship and I think I was holding on for longer than necessary bc nothing had happened between us so why end a friendship you know? And towards the end right before I was like “she ghosted me” I remember thinking why do I feel like I’m begging ? Lmao bc I would type a message and erase it like I felt she wouldn’t care about what I had to say. Which is weird bc I wasn’t saying anything out of the ordinary 😭 and I should’ve listened to that feeling more lol

I definitely want friendships with more care involved. I have a few friends I can have deep conversations with and who didn’t mind listening to me vent to them about what my narc mom was doing to me that week and I let them vent too. But like…while I was going through that no one asked me if I needed anything or if I needed help with anything it was just like yeah that sucks 😕 and that’s it. I was sick recently and one of my friends I told I was sick never responded to my message and then I go on IG two days later to see she’s on vacation with her bf and then she calls me when she gets back a week later and not once asked me if I was feeling better but immediately started talking about a situation with her bf 🙃 like okayyyyyy

So I think that’s def going to be a major Pluto in aqua theme for me. I just need to actually sit down and figure out what I want my friendships to look like.

I feel like I already do for them what I’m looking for so I know I’m not asking for a lot! And I did think about my people pleaser tendencies and it wasn’t even about that like someone sharing an achievement and me going “we should go here to celebrate!” But me sharing an achievement and just getting the congrats text with confetti and if I want to celebrate I gotta say I want to go celebrate let’s go here like 😀 and even for my bday last year I was fresh off no contact with my mom obviously distressed and no one offered any options for my bday when it was less than a week before and I was saying I literally have no idea what to do I’m overwhelmed they just kept asking did you plan it yet? So I ended up just picking a random place for brunch lol but it felt like too much to be like “can someone plan my bday for me?” 💀 my take on it is very if they wanted to they would

It’s 4:44

I think it relates to my family too bc from the way their lives have turned out I have this fear of not having any friends bc they don’t have any friends in their 50s 60s and continuously tell me how lonely it is and to make sure that never happens to me and to make sure I keep all my friends lol no pressure! But tbh the reason they don’t have any friends is bc I don’t think they were friends with those people to begin with they were just in proximity and they did not actually care about each other.

I wonder what’s going to show up between Sept 1 - Nov 19 2024 when Pluto goes back into cap and reenters aqua for the next 20 years bc my bday happens in that gap and there’s always something surrounding my bday!!

[humanransome-note]

Unfortunately, my father is still alive after a workplace incident left two men dead.

I know this because after not contacting me since Boxing Day, he suddenly texted me claiming I left a large wad of cash at his home that he “suddenly found”.

I doubt this is what happened for multiple reasons, including but not limited to, I haven’t been to his house since sophomore year of high school, and I would’ve never left that much cash at his place, as I never wanted to be there so I would’ve never left a reason to go back. The name on the envelope is also spelled wrong, a common thing with that name, but considering he didn’t get my birthday right for 18 years, I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t know how to spell it either, even if it is also his sister’s name. (The sister he resents for having gone to medical school and becoming a doctor, he feels that her success impeded his own and he was denied his full potential. Not the sister he berated after the funeral of the closest person she may ever have to a son.)

After claiming I wasn’t home and telling him to just put the envelope in the mailbox if he was already heading this way. He texted me this:

“Family ask about you did not want to say you don’t communicate with us and I am tired of trying to make you look all good so I will just give them your number you are no longer a child and will be 24 this year I am confident you can speak to them for yourself because they did you no wrong “

I never asked that he try and “make me look good” in regards to his half of the family, that’s something he did of his own volition and likely benefit. (when he probably started doing it I was still a minor and he couldn’t tell his mother he hadn’t seen me in months because she’d likely tear him a new one.)

At least two people I know for certain are in contact with his mother have my phone number. If she asked, one might give it without protest, the other might try to at least get in touch with me first. And if his mother had it, they’d all have it. Also, I have had the same phone number for almost 10 years, and the last time it changed I sent a mass text to every number I had saved. If they want to talk, they have my number, it is not my job to drag everyone together no matter how much he intended for that to be the case.

As an adult I can chose to speak to them, and frankly, I’d likely chose not to. But they haven’t even tried contacting me, so I haven’t even been in the position to make that decision.

“They did you no wrong…” me and several therapists would have to disagree with that.

They were a massive motivator for my insecurities regarding my body, I would starve myself whenever I traveled with them because it was less stressful than being nagged about my food choices. They regularly and openly spoke about me like I was an investment, that they were waiting out my “ugly duckling” years and one day I’d metamorphosize into some sort of femme fatale.

Since I could toddle they’d talk about my hypothetical future love life, and when I’d mention not being interested in the idea of settling down and having kids, they’d start reminding me I was the end of this branch of the family tree, they thought of me like a fucking failing brood mare.

Btw, that sister he resents? She had unresolved grief from several miscarriages, and while I feel sorry for her in the abstract sense, the fact is when she found out I existed, she started projecting the sort of child she wanted onto me, and was obviously disappointed when I would visit and shatter those ideas she had of what a good daughter should be.

I’m also confidant that my father likely gloated about the fact that he had a child (that he didn’t even really want) and she couldn’t have one she was desperate for, considering his behavior after the funeral, I would not be surprised.

And he didn’t even come around, I checked the mailbox at midnight and no suspiciously convenient envelope.

Piece of shit bastard

[leafs-lover]

Too Far Gone - Part Forty Seven

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Eating of raw cookie dough (don’t come at me, I did it as a kid and turned out fine) and some Christmas fluff. Mentions of drinking and maybe a swear word?

Word Count: 12000

Over the last few years Christmas started to become less important to Auston. Not the concept of spending time with people you love – but the actual day, the traditions. With his family in Arizona, and their celebration occurring around his schedule and sometimes weeks later, it didn’t hold the same value as it once did.

Getting the boxes out of storage, decorating the condo, decorating a tree, baking cookies and building a pre-made gingerbread house that would never be eaten, it didn’t really interest him because he knew afterwards there’d be bowls and mixers to wash and decorations shove back into boxes and put back into storage. It never seemed to be worth the work.

Then came Taylour.

He loves Christmas, its arguable his favourite time of the year, but it is to most three-year-olds. Every day after his birthday party, all Taylour could talk about was Christmas, and Santa, and snow, and puppies. He could always talk about puppies. After the first snowfall he dragged Auston outside to ‘make a snowman’ even though there was less than two inches of slush on the ground. There was no way Auston could say no, his beady brown eyes were reason enough, but it was the joy in his voice when the snow first started to fall that lead them to get bundled up. For his next visit Auston pulled a few decorations from storage, a couple nutcrackers, stockings and Christmas pillows and watched Taylour’s entire face light up.

Taylour’s excitement was the Christmas magic Auston thought he’d lost.

Apart from the friends and family skate, there was very little time where the three of them could partake in Christmas activities as a family. Auston was on the road a fair bit and had multiple charity events with MLSE – visits to Sick Kids Hospital and other organizations. Tia was busy wrapping up the semester, working at the store and trying to find time to work on her own designs. It baffled Auston how she managed to do it all. He didn’t know how she found time in Zurich and that was before an energetic three-year old was needing to show her something every five seconds.

A part of him worried that she once again was burying herself in work, creating a distraction from the outside world, but unlike last time there's no indication she was stressed or overworked. And Auston looked for it when he was with her, listened for it when on FaceTime, and read then re-read every text for any sort of hint that she was drowning. He found nothing that would explain why the hairs on the back of his neck were tingling.

He isn’t convinced.

Something is on her mind and Auston is going to find out what. With Celeste’s store and the NHL shutdown for a few days, Tia and Taylour are coming to his condo to spend the holidays together, and with almost three days together Auston will find out what is going on.

After a wild and high scoring 2pm game Auston drove over to Tia’s where a very excited Taylour was waiting at the door. He had on reindeer antlers and a Christmas sweater, and was bouncing off the walls, telling him how in two sleeps Santa was coming. He already told him when the FaceTimed that morning, and Tia sent him a snapchat of Taylour reciting those words, but he had to tell him in person too.

The drive was slow. Torontonians were driving home from last minute shopping, others headed out of town for the holidays The fan blows warm air across their faces, Christmas music plays softly over the speakers and a thin layer of snow has sprinkled the roads only adding to the brake lights, but they didn’t mind. Taylour was in the back seat rambling on and on about Santa and the letter he wrote, the cookies they had yet to bake and what he was going to leave out for the reindeer - because as Auston had learned, they ‘get tired too.’

The second Auston’s door opened Taylour was dragging Tia into the living room with her boots still on. He walks by Santa’s village on the table, the lights and stockings that hang from the fireplace, the large nutcracker and snowman Auston has tucked in the corner and the various other decorations that scatter the condo because he has one thing in mind. The tree.

She has seen over FaceTime four times, seen the countless pictures Taylour made Auston take, hung the picture he drew of it on her fridge, but he still has to show her every single ornament in person.

“Look Mommy, look!”

He points to a spot higher than his little body can reach. Instantly knowing what he is trying to show her, Tia picks him up and sets him on her hip. Letting the lights glisten off his soft brown eyes, Tia smiles, and pulls the plastic ornament off the tree.

“Is this Marshall?” she gasps.

“Yeah,” he giggles, “he is Rudolph.” He references the reindeer antlers that have replaced the usual fireman’s hat.

“What else do you and Daddy have on here?” She returns Marshall to the branch and starts slowly walking around the tree. “The Grinch?” She fakes a gasp and turns towards Taylour with a gaping jaw.

“The Gwinch is Daddy’s favourite,” he explains to Tia as if she didn’t already know.

“Yes, it is,” Tia nods.

“SpongeBob!” Taylour points to a yellow figurine wearing a Santa hat with a candy cane in his hands. “SpongeBob is daddies favourite!”

“Daddy has a lot of favourites,” Tia grins.

“Mhm.” He nods, as his eyes begin to wander, further scouring the tree for the next ornament. “Look Mommy, look!”

Tia and Taylour continue to circle the tree, pulling off ornament after ornament, the Paw Patrol ball, a Toronto Maple Leafs ball, even the Frosty the Snowman he made in daycare – almost identical to the one he made for Tia. The construction paper top hat is mishappen and about twice as long as it should be, the eyes are crooked, and instead of being white there is a colourful crayon mess covering the body. The first of what will hopefully be many homemade decorations on their trees.

“Look!” His joyful voice radiates, a large, curved grin presses to his lips as he points to the ornament. “Santa!”

Auston has the presents and stocking stuffers tucked away in his closet and Tia’s bag is tucked inside the door to his third bedroom - the bedroom he recently furnished specifically for Tia and her short visit, solely because he wants her to be comfortable.

A queen-sized bed is centered along one wall with a simple cream coloured headboard, on the adjacent wall hangs a gold circular mirror over a small dresser. He even ventured to Winners and asked for help getting throw pillows and blankets because he knew it was the kind of thing she’d like. Only problem is he had no idea what to do with them, how to make them look like as though they are meant to be there. He spent way to long looking at pictures online, trying to get them to look just right, and the result is something that looks like Taylour did – which is what he will tell her if asked.

Once back in the living room he see’s Tia, still holding Taylour as they investigate the tree. She doesn’t notice him at first, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest silently watching ,just kind of staring as the lights sparkle off their faces. Tia continues to look at Taylour, smiling as he spoke with such enthusiasm about everything on the tree, then her gaze eventually fell on Auston.

She had a peculiar look at first, noticing the way he was carefully watching them, taking in every detail. He didn’t even know he was doing it at first, something about them and the warm glow of the twinkling lights captivated him. It wasn’t until he saw her grin, and warm milk chocolate eyes beam back at him did a faint blush begin to creep up over his cheeks. They hold the others gaze for a second, and as a smile begins to appear on his lips as well Taylour chatters about pin her arms. Tia almost wishes Auston would have said something when he had the chance, before the rare moment of vulnerability shattered around them.

“You want to make a fort?” Tia swallows the dryness in her throat and forces her gaze to Taylour while simultaneously burying whatever she had been feeling.

“And watch Frosty!” He enthusiastically tells them.

After returning from a road trip Auston went to get Taylour a drink and realized he had nothing in his fridge. He had butter, milk (which was a day from expiring), eggs, condiments and salad dressing, but he had no fruit, vegetables, yogurt, cheese strings – nothing that would be suitable for Taylour’s snacks. Instead of bundling his son up to go to the grocery store he messaged Fred to watch him while he shopped. When he returned home an hour later every chair was in the living room – some flipped upside down - blankets were draped over them, pillows and couch cushions on the floor and Taylour’s laugh trickling out from the mess. Since then, making forts has been his new favourite activity.

“Okay,” she continues to speak softly, unable to use the full weight of her voice. “Go help Daddy get some blankets.”

**

Auston hoped Christmas Eve would be simple. They were baking cookies. That’s it, it’s all they had to do. Beyond that he saw them drinking hot chocolate, watching Paw Patrol Christmas specials for the 50th time and listening to Taylour’s excitedly ramble about Santa. It was supposed to be an easy and relaxing day – or as relaxing Christmas Eve with a three-year old can be. Auston set the bar too high.

Taylour came barreling in at 5:59 shrieking that it was time to make cookies. How Taylour was energized and ready to go after staying up until almost 9:45 making a fort that consumed Auston’s entire living room is a shock in itself, but there he is, excitedly jumping on the bed.

“Daddy, get up!” Taylour grabs his hand and tries free him from the tangled mess of sheets. Auston keeps his eyes closed and provides no help, his arm becoming dead weight. Taylour tugs harder and harder until he loses his footing and lands on the mattress. “Daddy it’s cookie time!” he whines.

“It’s still dark out,” Auston mumbles through a groggy haze. “That means it’s still sleep time.”

“Noooo,” Taylour whines, louder than before. “Mommy said you have to get up and make coffee before we do the cookies,” Taylour huffs.

Popping one eye open, Auston reaches out and pulls him tight to his chest. “Oh, she did?” He chuckles at the realization Tia sent Taylour to him because she craved more sleep.

“Yeeees,” he drags out his response, the whine so loud Auston hears Tia chuckle in response from her room. “Please get up so we can make cookies,” his arms smack against the bed in defeat while he releases a heavy huff.

After a sigh, Auston forces both eyes open. The soft glow from the hallway light hits Taylour’s face and there is a mixture of eagerness and disappointment on his face. “Alright, but we have to have breakfast before making cookies.”

“Okay Daddy!” His head cranes towards Auston, a large grin covering his face and he nods.

Auston releases Taylour and sits up on the side of the bed. When he stretches out his arms, Taylour jumps onto his back and wrap his arms around his neck. Auston easily grabs his two hands with one of his and puts the other under one of his thigh for support and hoists him on his back.

“Can you do me a favour?” Auston softly asks Taylour and instantly feels him nod.

“Tell Mommy it’s time for breakfast and she needs to get up .” Auston’s knees crack as he bends down in the doorway to set Taylour on his feet. “She won’t be mad if you do it.”

**

Before turning the coffee grinder on, Auston heard Taylour repeating everything to Tia, telling her Daddy said to get up for breakfast and that they needed breakfast before making the cookies.

With the hazelnut coffee slowly wafting into the air, Auston had breakfast well under way when Tia finally made her appearance. Sleep was in the cracks of her eyes, dark and heavy bags underneath and her hair was thrown into a very messy bun with a few fallen strands framing her face. She glared slightly towards Auston and shook her head, but the sternness soon fell and they were both smiling at one another.

With the dishes from breakfast stacked in a pile on the counter, a task for later because Taylour could not wait, Tia begins opening the fridge and pantry for the ingredients required to make the sugar cookies.

“What are you two doing?” Tia asks, having heard soft whispers and giggling for the last ten seconds.

Not wanting to cook two types from scratch, she tasked Auston with getting the Pilsbury chocolate chip cookies from the tube and onto the cookie sheet. It should have been a simple task, but she knew they would find a way to get into trouble, they always do. Taylour was constantly coming home with jokes or pranks to show Tia, something either Auston or one of his teammates had taught him. Baking cookies proved to be no different.

Taylour’s tiny legs are dangling over the island, Auston has a look on his face, the same one she saw countless times in Zurich. The one he’d give her right before doing something he knows he shouldn’t.

“Nothing,” Auston smirks, reaching into the tube of Pilsbury cookie dough he pulls a piece out and hold it up for Taylour, which he is quick to accept.

“You’re eating all the cookies,” Tia teasingly scolds them and shakes her head watching Taylour reach in for another handful.

“You’re making two types of cookies, I think we can eat a couple now.” Auston explains with a shrug. Tia shakes her head and let’s go of a soft laugh when Taylour shoves a chunk overflowing with chocolate chips between Auston’s lips. She should have known not to leave him in charge.

Fifteen minutes later (and only after Tia took control) the chocolate chip cookies were in the oven. Auston set a timer and Taylour made his way to the other side of the island where Tia was about to begin the sugar cookie recipe.

“No Mommy, I do,” Taylour promptly tells her when she tries to measure the flour.

“You want to do it?”

“Yes!” He nods and reaches out for the flour.

“How about Mommy helps you?” Auston quickly speaks up, remembering the mess every time he has tried to “help” in the past.

“No Daddy, I big, I do it,” he explains to them.

Taylour reaches into the bag and finds the scoop and begins filling the measuring cup. Following every scoop, the pile of flour on the counter grows larger and larger and by the time it’s full Auston is convinced there is more on the marble than in the measuring cup.

“Okay, put it in the bowl now,” Tia directs him, nudging it closer in hopes of preventing some spillage.

It doesn’t.

There is more on the counter and his thighs than in the bowl, a large plume billowing out afterwards. It’s a mess, his entire kitchen is a mess, with batter behind his ears and on his cheek, Taylour too is a mess.

**

“This one,” Taylour holds up the Santa head cookie cutter. All he wants to make is Santa cookies, has no interest in the ornaments, the tree or bell shapes, he only wants Santa.

“Another Santa?” Auston chuckles and grabs a different cookie cutter. “What about the elf?”

“No Daddy,” he adamantly shakes his head, “this one!”

Bringing the cutter over to the dough Taylour presses it down softly, but not hard enough to fully break through the dough. Auston brings his hand over and places it on top and pushes down until it touches the counter, then begins shedding the excess.

Using a spatula to peel it from the counter, Auston sets the cookie on the baking sheet then turns to Taylour, “I don’t think we can make anymore, not enough dough left.”

“Oh no,” he pouts. Not wanting it to be over, he looks to small pieces of cuttings left behind and sighs.

“It’s okay,” Auston rolls the batter into a tiny ball and holds his hand out for Taylour, “just means you can eat it.” Beaming widely, his tiny hand reaches out and accepts the dough and shoves it all in his mouth at once. “That good?” Auston queries?

“Mhm.” Taylour grins with a large nod.

Auston caught Tia shaking her head from the corner of his eye, but he just leaned in and kissed Taylour’s cheek.

“We decorate them now Mommy?” Taylour scratches at a few small pieces of dough that are stuck on the counter. He suggested she make extra for this exact reason.

“No, they have to finish cooking and then cool down before we can decorate them,” she explains while rubbing a dampened cloth along his face.

“Oh. Okay. We play now?”

“Mommy has to clean up,” she tells him. “But Daddy can.”

“Okay,” he nods.

“T, it’s my –“

“It’s fine, go play with him.”

It’s not that Tia would rather clean than play with Taylour, or that she is worried about dishes not being cleans properly or put in their correct location, it’s not even her kitchen. She has a pie to make. She can’t make an apple pie when the kitchen looks this way.

Full of sugar and dough and covered in even more, Auston scooped Taylour up and took him to his bedroom to change out of his flour-soaked clothes while Tia began to clean. Some of the dishes were placed in the dishwasher, but anything she was going to need Tia set out to hand wash. She had barely begun when the sounds of ministicks clattering and little feet scurrying against the wood was heard.

It was distracting.

Not just Auston’s booming growls and Taylour’s shrieks as their ministick game turned into more of a wrestling match than anything else, but just watching what was unfolding. In Zurich, Tia pictured days spent like this (obviously in the future) and once Taylour was born she found herself wishing for this exact thing. And now she has it. Her boys, loud and playful, terrorizing the house with the same devious grins on their faces. It was what eighteen-year-old her used to imagine, and twenty-two-year-old her finally has it. Well almost.

“What?” Auston turns to her with Taylour thrown over his shoulder as he prepares to body slam him against the couch.

“Uhm,” she shakes her head free of the thoughts, and speaks through a cracking voice. “Where are the apples?”

“Apples?” He repeats. That wasn’t the only thought she had.

“Yes, for the pie.”

“Oh, that’s covered.” Tickling Taylour’s sides, he elicits a large screech while flipping him onto the couch.

“Again Daddy!” He hurls himself into Auston’s waiting arms.

“Again?” He pretends to act shocked. Taylour would let Auston body slam him into the couch all day if it was an option.

“What do you mean it’s covered?” Tia finally has some strength in her words.

“It’s covered.” He reiterates and slams Taylour against the couch and leans down and blows a raspberry in the area where his shirt rode up.

“Aus –“

“You don’t have to worry about it.” He tells her and resumes tickling Taylour.

If Tia has learned anything through years of dating but also being a mother, is that when a boy tells you not to worry about it, it means the opposite.

“Auston. Taylour. Matthews.” Tia emphasizes every syllable and watches both of their heads whip in her direction with matching expressions – worry. Taylour for his part doesn’t know that his name is Auston’s middle name, and thinks he is in trouble, but Auston knows she means business. Never has she full named him, in fact most of the time she calls him Aus, dropping the second syllable from his name.

“Be right back,” Auston tells Taylour and saunters into to the kitchen.

“I don’t like it when you full name me,” he mumbles, almost to himself.

“Don’t give me a reason to then,” she retorts, still in her stern motherly tone.

With sunken eyes, Auston sighs and opens the freezer and pulls out a box. Store bought. She should have known.

“Auston,” Tia groans and lets her arms fall to her sides. “We are not bringing a generic, grocery store brand apple pie. If you went to a bakery or a farm and bought a fresh one, maybe, maybe we could bring that, but we are not showing up with that.”

“We can bring some cookies if you want to do homemade,” Auston softly tells her. “I just thought this would be easier and that you wouldn’t spend Christmas Eve making a pie.”

“I appreciate the thought,” she exhales, “but I’m not showing up tomorrow with this.”

“Tys and Vic won’t care,” he counters.

While it’s true, Tia is anxious about spending Christmas with one of Auston’s teammates and his wife - especially given her limited interactions with the WAG’s haven’t always gone well – her aversion to a storebought pie has little to do with making a good impression and more to do with it being a courtesy. The Barrie’s invited them over and are cooking an elaborate and time-consuming dinner with multiple sides, the least they can do is make a homemade dessert. If they went over to Becks or Abby’s for dinner Tia would have made a pie from scratch, this is no different.

“Can we just buy a pie dish and put this in it?” Auston protests, the look on Tia’s face being answer enough.

**

The store was packed.

Everyone was in a rush ,grumpy and bitter over the lines were long and large crowds. Tia knew it would be like this, which is why she sent Auston a list days ago to avoid this.

It’s barely 11am and she is ready to be home, have a shower and snuggle in back in her Christmas pyjamas, but alas, she only had the ingredients bought. And if she thought the grocery store was bad, walking into Stokes to buy a deep pie dish and hand mixer on Christmas Eve made her question every decision she has ever made. And she still needs to go to the liquor store.

Auston thought Taylour might nap once Tia left. Even though naps were becoming more infrequent, he hadn’t slept very long the night before and had an eventful morning. The recipe for a nap, or so he thought.

Wearing only his underwear, socks and a Santa hat, Taylour ran around the condo. He had his toy plane in hand and pretended to make it fly as he jumped from couch to couch. There was an impromptu dance show (which reminded Auston more of Mitch on the dancefloor than anything else), and countless laps around the apartment. Auston was dizzy watching him but was confident something would tire him out, but he never seemed to find his off switch.

Drained, and in need of a few minutes of quiet, Auston put on Paw Patrol’s Christmas special and hoped for the best.

Taylour must have been quiet, because Auston fell asleep. He didn’t mean to. He knew Taylour was running hot with sugar and the last time he left him unattended a picture was drawn on a door. He wasn’t even comfortable on the couch. His arms were crossed over his chest, and neck awkwardly kinked into the corner, a plastic toy is jabbing into his spine, but he fell asleep.

“Daddy!” Taylour lets out a loud shriek. Auston’s eyes bolt open and he dashes off the couch, full of terror. “Daddy help!”

In under five strides Auston finds Taylour. His heart is pounding heavily, expecting to find blood, broken bones or some injury to his son, instead he is sitting on the kitchen island. His feet are swinging over the ledge and he has crumbs on his shirt and chocolate smeared around his lips, all evidence of the trouble he has found himself in. His mom always told him a quiet toddler is a dangerous toddler.

“Daddy, I’m stuck!”

“What are you doing?” He asks, noting the chair that’s tipped on its side – likely the method Taylour used to get on the island.

“Daddy I’m stuck!” Taylour repeats.

Walking over to him, Auston sets his hands on either side of his legs and peers down at him. “I see that,” he hides the smirk that is fighting it’s way through. “Why are you on the counter?”

Taylour huffs in response, “I wanted a cookie.”

“What did I say?” Auston quirks an eyebrow.

“No cookies until lunch,” he mumbles, refusing to make eye contact. “But daddy I wanted one now.”

“But I said you had to wait,” Auston explains to him with a firm tone. Turning on the sink he reaches for a cloth and wets it, then brings it up to Taylour’s face to wipe away the evidence. “Now you don’t get any cookies after lunch.”

“Noooo!” he whines.

Pursing his lips, he huffs while moisture floods his eyes. The pout on his face remains and his lower lip trembles making Auston sigh. He hates seeing Taylour cry, and regardless of fake or real tears, it will always be his soft spot as a dad.

“Alright,” Auston sighs. “You can have cookies with your lunch, but you can’t tell your mom about this.”

Poking his stomach slightly with a grin, Taylour chuckles whilst eagerly nodding. “Deal daddy!”

“Okay.” Helping Taylour down Auston turns around and sees Tia, in the doorway with her arms crossed just shaking her head at him.

“Mommy!” Taylour squeals. Running over to her, Tia bends down and opens her arms for a much-needed hug. She quirks and eyebrow to Auston while pressing a kiss to Taylour’s cheek.

“Hi baby, I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he beams. “Daddy gave me a cookie.”

“Wh- You took a cookie,” she hears Auston mutter bitterly.

“Was it good?”

“Mhm.”

“Good.” She releases him from the hug. “I’m going to make the pie then we can decorate the cookies.”

“Okay Mommy!”

When Taylour prances off to the living room, Tia turns to Auston and just shakes her head. “How much of that did you hear?” he asks, flames having erupted on his cheeks.

“All of it,” she grins, with her eyes narrowed. “So, how many things do you two hide from me?”

“Nothing,” he quickly replies, cleaning the crumbs from his counter. “How can I when he snitches two seconds later?”

Taylour occupied himself with his toys while various Christmas specials filled the room as background noise. Auston found himself peeling and slicing apples, then getting yelled at for making them too big or too small. He tried to remind Tia that this was his favourite pie and of the two of them he would know more about what was required, and she constantly reminded him that she was the one making the dessert and he should listen to her.

**

“You ready?” After dinner Auston emerges with Taylour, both of them in warm track pants and matching hoodies, holding a pair out for Tia. 

“For what?” Tia quirks an eyebrow but continues wiping the island of the mess generated from cookie decorating.

While her station was kept relatively tidy, the same cannot be said for Taylour and Auston. Tubes of green, blue, black and red icing were left scattered around the island, sprinkles were caked to the counter thanks to the globs of icing that have oozed out. Both of them smeared the icing with their fingers leaving fingerprints and smudge marks across the counter. She knew decorating would be messy, she just didn’t anticipate the mess being equivalent to the baking process.

“The Christmas lights mommy!” Taylour enthuses, bouncing on his heels. 

One of Tia’s favourite Christmas traditions is looking at Christmas lights on Christmas Eve. It can’t be days or weeks in advance, it has to be on Christmas Eve.

It was something Kylie made Paul do, and he couldn’t say no to an eight-month pregnant woman. When Tia’s first Christmas rolled around, she was teething and incredibly fussy, Paul had tried just about everything when he buckled her into her car seat and placed a warm blanket over her. By the time they drove past the second house she had stopped crying and by the fourth he was smiling, completely in awe of the lights.

Going forward Paul took her out every Christmas Eve to look at lights. One year they had moved less than a week prior and were still living out of boxes. None of their decorations had arrived, they didn’t have stockings or a tree but she and Paul still went out to look at the lights.

It was no surprise on Taylour’s first Christmas when she could barely afford food let alone decorations and gifts that she bundled him up in a snowsuit and tucked multiple blankets in around him then ventured to a few areas she had seen lights on while travelling to work or school. They weren’t the big extravagant houses her and Paul would scout, more so the neighbourhoods that were safe to venture into at night but also easily accessible from a bus stop. It wasn’t quite the same experience because Taylour slept the entire time and some houses were very basic with just one or two strands, others didn’t even have any hung at all, but it brought her to ease. For that hour Tia forgot about the building stress, she forgot that Auston didn’t know of his son and wasn’t sharing in that experience. For that hour every worry she had faded away, and she knew her and Taylour were going to be okay.

“The Christmas lights?” A smile starts to grow on her face and she sets the cloth in the sink.

It wasn’t an easy task finding the perfect place to visit. There are lights at the Christmas Market, Casa Loma, Nathan Phillips Square and countless other locations around the city, but her tradition was looking at houses and Auston was committed to keeping that tradition. Any time he googled it the results only came back with events or individual houses not entire neighbourhoods. He didn’t want to risk going to one of the houses only for them to be the anomaly, the only decorated house around. He resorted to asking guys on the team before finally settling on Hyde Park.

“Daddy says there are lots of lights, and some have snowmen and reindeer!”

“Snowmen and reindeer?” She tries to match his enthusiasm.

“Yes Mommy. Go get dressed so we can go,” he pushes on her thigh, trying to direct her down the hall.

Tia collects the handful of clothes from Auston and ventures down the hall to put on his clothes. They were the same pair he leant her when they watched Legally Blonde, the same pair she “borrowed” countless times during the weeks he spent at her house. The same pair that she hasn’t seen him wear since she first did, as if they have been reserved for her.

“Daddy says we’re getting hot chocolate,” Taylour exclaims, tightly grasping her hand in the elevator. 

“Yum!” she gives his hand a squeeze. “I love hot chocolate.” 

“Me too! I want the candy cane one Daddy!” Taylour turns his gaze to address him. 

“Candy Cane?” Tia turns to Auston and teases. “What are you turning my son into?” 

“One with taste,” Auston retorts as the door dings open. 

**

With a not-so-quick stop to Starbucks, the three of them were entering Hyde Park, full of lavish, expensive homes, one of which belonging to John Tavares – the one who recommended this location. Following the parade of brake lights, Auston stops the car and finally cracks the lid of Taylour’s now cool drink then passes it back to him. 

“Thank you, Daddy,” he smiles. 

“You’re welcome, Taylour.” Auston smiles back through the rear view, then glances over the centre console to Tia whose hands are tightly clasped on her lap and eyes locked ahead, waiting as the first house slowly comes into view. “You did a really good job with him.” 

“Thanks,” she keeps her eyes but Auston can see the edges of her lips beginning to curl.

The car slowly inches forward while warm air hits her toes and the heated seats warms her entire body. Even though the car is warm, Auston brought a fleece blanket specifically for Tia because she is always cold, and she has it draped over her lower body.

“I don’t know if I say it enough, or at all, it has been wild year,” he pauses and lets out an airy laugh at all they've gone through. He then reaches over and his thumb finds a spot on her wrist. At his soft and gentle graze, her fingers release and instantly lock with his, bringing a warmth to his heart. “There is no one else I’d rather do this with.” 

“Same,” she somehow smiles wider, so wide it could hurt. “I couldn’t do this without you.” 

“Wow! Daddy look it’s Olaf!” Pointing out the window, Taylour’s face is brighter than all of the lights around them. 

“Yeah, I see,” Auston muses. “And look, he’s with Santa!” 

“Woah!” His voice almost drops to a whisper as he becomes too overwhelmed to speak. 

“I don’t know,” Auston turns his attention back to Tia, who, like Taylour, is completely encapsulated by the lights, “you did it for two years without me.” 

“Because I had to,” Tia quickly informs him. “And it fucking sucked,” she says, not worried about Taylour noticing anything besides the lights. “I have zero desire to do that again.” 

Instinctively, Auston squeezes her hand while bringing it up to his lips for a kiss, watching as her head rolls towards him. They don’t say anything, mostly because they both know nothing else needs to be said.

**

Getting Taylour to bed proved to be a bigger ordeal than Auston imagined. He thought the car ride would have at the very least tired him out, if not put him to sleep, but when parked in the garage Taylour was still rambling about all the lights, the Minions one house had, SpongeBob at another and the movie one home had projected. He was bouncing off the walls.

Tia had him sitting on the vanity while she helped brush his teeth. With his little legs kicking against the door, he was beaming from ear to ear, but the second she helped him onto his feet he took off running. A bolt of blue and black plaid blew by Auston and dodged his attempt to scoop him up as he tore into the toys Auston had put away for the night.

“Taylour,” Auston sighs, watching Taylour hit the buttons on his firetruck, setting off every sound and light imaginable. “It’s time for bed, lets pick out a story.”

“But I see Santa Daddy,” Taylour protests innocently. Pulling the firetruck back, he releases it and watches as it drives forward a few inches crashing into the side of the coffee table. A slew of giggles ensuing.

“Santa can’t come if you’re awake.” Tia explains for the tenth time.

“But I see Santa Mommy. I give him his cookie.”

“No, you have to be asleep or he can’t come. His magic doesn’t work if you’re awake.”

“Fine,” Taylour huffs and drops the toy, the plastic smacking heavily against the wood. Sulking, he takes a few steps and clasps his hand in Auston’s letting him guide him down the hall.

“What story do you want?” Auston asks him as he climbs on the bed, only to be met by a shrug. “This one?” he grabs a book from the nightstand and shows him, earning the same response.

He looks up and finds Tia in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest, grinning as if to say ‘this attitude came from you’ but Auston would argue it came from her.

“What about this one?” Tia picks up a Paw Patrol Christmas book, and smirks when Taylour tries to act frustrated but can’t help smile. She hands the book to Auston and climbs onto the one side of the bed while Auston nestles in on the other. By the end of the story Taylour wasn’t asleep, but his eyes were heavy and he was full of yawns. They both placed a kiss on his forehead and left him in the room, hopeful the heaviness would take over.

“You gonna do this, or should I?” He asks of the cookie as soon as they are in the kitchen.

“You can’t, not yet,” she quickly replies, her heartrate beginning to accelerate.

“T, he is basically asleep.” Auston chuckles softly and reaches out for the glass of milk when he hears the slow creak of a door. Taylour’s door. Walking over to the hall he catches Taylour right as he tries to pull his head back in to avoid getting caught. “Taylour?” Auston calls out.

“No,” he giggles. The sound of his feet quickly pattering towards the bed is followed up by the squeak of bed springs.

“I got it,” Auston sighs, and drops his head.

Thirty minutes and two more stories later, Taylour was asleep. Auston finally returned to the living room and found Tia on the couch, watching a Christmas episode of The Office.

“I didn’t think it would be this hard,” Auston laughs, grabbing himself a well-deserved beer.

“Really?” Tia just laughs and turns the volume down.

“I knew he’d be excited, but that was ridiculous. He tried to get out of bed two more times,” he adds, subtly noticing she changed to her pyjamas but found her way into his closet for another one of his sweaters. “Was it like this last year?”

“He didn’t quite understand the concept of Christmas and Santa,” she tells him, shifting to create some space for him to sit. “When he woke up and saw the presents he was excited though.”

The two of them it on the couch, her feet buried under his thick thighs for warmth and watched two more episodes. Once they are both convinced Taylour was out for the night – significantly later that his usual bedtime they got to work. Auston ate the milk, cookies and carrots, while Tia set up the stockings.

As she made the couple trips to and from the bedroom, she couldn’t help but laugh at the curse words and grumbles coming from Auston as he tried to assemble Taylour’s present from Santa. The Paw Patrol tower.

At almost three feet tall it blinks, has lights, a trap door, a working elevator and zipline, even a button where Ryder will provide missions to be completed. It’s full of tiny pieces of plastic, multiple stickers, not the kind of toy designed for those with thick fingers and waning patience.

“This is stupid,” Auston presses on two pieces trying to force them to go together. “There are a million pieces, how the fuck are we supposed to get this assembled?”

Tia laughs, “we have time. Besides,” she picks up the instructions Auston has yet to open, “I feel like these might help.”

“I need a drink.” Auston pushes off the floor and ventures into the kitchen to make himself a generous rum and eggnog.

“No wonder you can’t figure it out,” Tia laughs and picks up the base of the tower. “You’re supposed to start with this.”

**

4:38.

Taylour plows through his door shrieking at 4:38. The sun had yet to make its way over the horizon, only darkness was protruding through the windows. But Taylour was up at 4:38.

Auston and Tia said they were going to be the parents who kept Taylour in bed until 6. They were going to set that time now when he was young, as he grew up and learned to tell time he would have to wait in his room until 6am before coming to find them.

No way that was happening today.

“Daddy, we have to go see what Santa brought!” He tugs at his arm, trying to drag him out of bed.

“Taylour,” Auston reaches up and grabs his son and forces him down on the mattress, pining him against his chest in an attempt to drown him in cuddles. “It’s too early, we have to go back to sleep.”

“No daddy,” he adamantly protests, “we get up now.”

Bringing up his hand, Taylour attempts to pry open his eyelids and groans when Auston doesn’t cooperate. “Daddy, puh-lease!”

“Taylour –“

“Thought we agreed on six,” Tia mutters groggily. Lifting up the corner of the duvet she crawls in on the other side of Taylour.

“We did. He did not.” Auston smirks to Tia, his voice heavy with what feels like gravel in his throat.

“Daddy,” he tries to squirm free without success. “We have to see what Santa brought.”

“Taylour,” Tia’s voice is soft and mumbly. “We’re going back to bed.” It’s a hollow attempt. She knows there is no way Taylour is going to sleep. He might lie in bed for ten minutes before anticipation becomes too much and starts protesting further. Even that is a long shot.

“Noooo Mommy,” Taylour’s voice cracks, not an indication of tears but his burning frustration. “No more sleep.”

Auston and Tia share a glance, both of them faintly shaking their heads.

“Alright. You stay here, I’m going to go see if Santa came.” Auston sighs and throws the blanket off the duvet, leaving him in just boxers, evidence he was hot last night.

Tia sighs in response – not loud enough to be heard, then reaches out for Taylour who squeals in excitement. Auston sits on the side of the bed and yawns, then slowly begins to work his way out of the bed in search of some pants.

“Mommy, do you think Santa came?” Taylour’s soft voice provides a distraction from Auston’s boxers that are far too tight.

“I’m sure he did,” Tia forces herself to look away, and finds Taylour – wide eyed and full of joy. “You were pretty good this year.”

“I was very good,” he enthusiastically nods back.

“Do you think I was good?” Tia asks Taylour.

“Yes! You’re a very good Mommy!”

Tia knows that he meant in a ‘you were good and Santa brought you presents’ kind of way, but her heart swells hearing him say that. She immediately wraps her arms around Taylour and pulls him in close for some snuggles and starts peppering his cheeks and forehead with kisses.

“Merry Christmas Taylour,” she says gently.

“Taylour.” Auston pokes his head back in, two mugs of steaming coffee in hand and Taylour’s eye’s immediately dart to the door. “Santa came.” His eyes bug out of his head and he becomes too excited to speak, his jaw dropping in the process. “You want to go see?”

Taylour didn’t need to be asked twice. He threw himself over Tia, his foot digging into her stomach along the way and hurdled himself off the bed and sprints down the hall. Tia barely has a chance to sit up before they hear him squealing “woah!” from down the hall.

“Don’t touch anything,” Auston hollers after him. He holds out a mug for Tia, but they both know they need to get in there before his excitement overpowers reason.

When they both walked into the living room Taylour was sitting on the floor beside the Paw Patrol tower, pressing some of the buttons that set off lights and various sound effects. “He couldn’t wait for us,” Auston laughs.

“He waited ten minutes this morning,” Tia sends him a look, “that’s a lifetime on Christmas morning.”

“What should we start with?” Auston asks, with a hand on his hip he glances around the living room.

Three overflowing stockings are on the couch, 15 to 20 presents are under the tree – mostly for Taylour, and its abundantly clear which presents were wrapped by Auston given the overuse of tape, loose corners and lack of ribbons or bows. But front and centre of it all is the toy they both know Taylour wants most.

“This one,” Taylour points at the tower. “I want to start with this one!”

“How about we start with the stockings?” Tia suggests, knowing there are a few vehicles and figurines inside there that go with the tower.

Taylour huffs and gives the tower one last glance. “Fine.”

**

Taylour was over the moon excited about every present. He thought it was the greatest thing ever until the next one came alone. He tore into them all with the same enthusiasm and joy. If it was a toy, he wanted it out of the box and batteries in right away, if it was a book or puzzle, he gave it a once over and set it down on the floor, and when it was clothes, he tossed it aside without a second thought.

The thing was most of his gifts were books, puzzles or clothes. Apart from the new hockey stick, the Paw Patrol accessories that accompanied his tower, and the two Transformer trucks everything else fell into things he needed or would help with his development. There was Play-Doh, crayons, stickers and lots of other art supplies, dozens of books, magnetic numbers and letters, all the things that while bright and exciting weren’t loud toys with flashing lights. He was still thrilled to open them, but once he realized it didn’t fly, drive, go in the bath or explode, he lost interest.

The gifts under the tree slowly began to dwindle until all that remained was Taylour’s gifts to his parents. There wasn’t one to each other because they agreed not to, or rather Tia made Auston agree.

He didn’t like it, in fact he fought her on it more than once. She tried to sell it as “it’s not easy to buy gifts for your ex” but Auston knew that wasn’t the real reason, which is money.

She used the money from her paycheck to help pay for the Paw Patrol tower and accessories. Auston told her not to worry about it, but from the day Tia saw the price tag all she could do was worry about it. She wanted to use her own money to buy the gifts, not the money Auston has been giving her and that gift alone was more than what she planned to spend. Ans that is just the gift from Santa it didn’t include her gifts to him, the stockings, or the gift Taylour had to get for Auston. It was quickly adding up and Tia could see her credit card bill already.

Auston thought it was ridiculous to not give each other gifts, and he fully intended on getting her something anyways. Christmas is about giving and what’s a few hundred dollars when you make almost 12 million? But when he made a not-so-subtle comment about not caring if she got him anything (which is 100% true) it almost brought her to tears. And that’s when Auston realized just how much of a struggle Christmas was on her.

He knew it had been in the past, but Taylour was so young and didn’t understand the concept of Christmas. This year was different. He came home from daycare talking about Santa, he understood that Santa brought good boys and girls presents, and what the implication of getting nothing would be. She never planned on giving Taylour such expensive gifts at Christmas, if Santa only brought books and puzzles, he’d never be the wiser. Then Auston and his eight-figure salary came waltzing into their lives, and while she loves knowing Taylour will grow up with a dad, she hates the pressure it puts on herself.

Auston agreed to not give her a gift, and then agreed to the limit she set on Taylour’s gift to them, solely because he didn’t want to add any additional stress to Tia. But if he had his way there would have been more than one gift under the tree for her.

Tia took Taylour to the mall and they ventured into a few stores, she gave Taylour free reign to pick anything within their budget. Every single thing was carefully selected at the hands of a very eager three-year-old. As Auston pulls every single item out, Taylour is three feet in front of him, explaining every single thing.

“That’s for your stick,” Taylour beams about the hockey tape.

“That’s because you drink Gatorade after hockey,” he tells him.

When Auston isn’t retrieving the items fast enough, Taylour takes matters into his own hands and reaches in with both hands and pulls something out and shoves it in his lap. “It’s for this,” he giggles and runs a hand over Auston’s upper lip.

“My moustache?” Auston grins.

“Mhm. To brush it.”

With a quick nod he reaches back into the bag and pulls out Paw Patrol dress socks and tie, then smiles. “They match Daddy!”

“Look at that, they do match,” Auston smiles back at him.

“Merry Christmas Daddy!” Taylour launches himself into his arms for a big hug.

“Merry Christmas.” He welcomes the embrace and places a kiss to his cheek. “Should we give Mommy her present now?”

“Yes!”

Taylour walks over and grabs the plain green gift bag from under the tree and drags it over to Tia. There are a few sheets of red and white tissue paper shoved messily at the top, which Taylour quickly removes for her, revealing a stunning white cashmere cardigan.

“Because you’re always cold Mommy.” Taylour grins at her and dives back into the bag not giving her the opportunity to process the item, then starts pulling out various brightly coloured bath bombs and bubble bars. “And you like to take baths!”

“I do like to take baths,” she smiles, knowing Taylour picked out every single one. None of them are soft and calming scents like eucalyptus or lilacs, they are vibrant colours, full of glitter and fun shapes like a duck or unicorn. All the things that would capture a three-year-old’s attention in a store.

“Thank you, Taylour,” she softly runs her finger over the cashmere, knowing Auston went over their budge with that alone.

“There’s one more Mommy!” Pulling out a clumsily wrapped box that is overloaded with tape, he hands it to Tia, but starts tugging at the corner to remove the paper for her. Tia lets him open the gift, drawing her gaze over to Auston with a ‘how could you look’ to which he tactfully shrugs away.

When the paper is finally removed there is no indication of what it is, just a plain, brown cardboard box. Tugging off the lid, her breath catches in her throat as she stares down at the Christmas ornament inside.

“Daddy said Rudolph is your favourite.”

Rudolph always was her favourite Christmas movie. Paul used to tell stories of young Tia, shrieking when the Abominable Snowman appeared on the screen and jumping into his lap, letting him keep her safe until he was gone. As she grew up the Abominable Snowman stopped scaring her, but Rudolph remained her favourite, and she would watch it at least six times a year.

Auston knew this. Four years ago, and barely a week into December they had watched it twice. So, when he and his mom were walking the streets of Zurich and he spotted an ornament in a window he didn’t even think twice about buying it.

“It is,” her eyes well up.

Picking it up by the string she holds it out and carefully examines every part of it, it’s identical to the one he gave her four years ago. Instead of it just being Rudolph, it’s Rudolph and his girlfriend Clarice – which Auston told her represented them. The two reindeer are nuzzled in together, their noses almost touching. Flipping it over, she flicks the on switch, letting his nose illuminate back at them.

“Can I put it on the tree?” Taylour beams.

“Of course,” she hands it to him, watching him skip away. Standing on his tippy toes, he reaches as high as he can and finds and empty branch to display it.

By the time they finished Auston’s living room was scattered in wrapping and tissue paper. Tia stumbles around the living room collecting every shard of paper and piece of tape she could find while Auston set out to open every single toy for Taylour, because they all had to be opened. Even the toys that were going to Tia’s apartment had to come out of the packaging.

When Taylour finally had all the figures and cars for his tower out of the packaging he sat on the floor and began pressing the buttons and sending the characters down the zipline, laughing as one would crash into the other.

“Merry Christmas T,” Auston walks up and wraps his arm around his shoulders, pulling her back against his chest while placing a kiss to her temple.

“Where did you get that ornament?” she quietly asks.

“Halmark store in the Eaton –“

“No.” She quickly turns around, eyes brimming with tears while his arms fall to his sides. “It’s not new, it’s the one you gave me four years ago.”

“I –“ he tries to counter.

“It says 2015 on the bottom,” she tells him of the inscription on the bottom in her writing, along with a heart beside. It is THE ornament he gave her in Zurich.

She didn’t even think to grab it when packing for Toronto because it was June and they hadn’t spoken for almost four months. She left it, and for four years it sat in a box collecting dust in the basement. She didn’t even think about it until a couple weeks ago when Auston made a comment after Taylour showed him their tree.

“Where did you get it?” She chokes out.

Auston takes a sharp exhale and chalks his hand through his messy dark brown curls, then brings his gaze up to her. “You wouldn’t let me buy you anything, but I knew how much you loved it. So, I reached out to your dad and he brought it when he visited a few weeks ago.”

“You saw my dad?” Tia almost chokes on the air in her lungs as her eyes shut, no longer willing to let him look into her eyes.

“I…yeah I did.”

“You saw my dad?” she repeats, still processing everything.

It wasn’t the most comfortable experience Auston had recently. He would have rather had lunch with Clarie, Amy, Betty, Corrie, Michelle and every other woman he had slept with over the last three years instead of spending ten minutes awkwardly standing in his doorway with Paul. But he did it for Tia.

She told him of all the struggles throughout the years – from buying a broken tree off Kijiji that had burnt out lights and broken branches, to buying most of Taylour’s presents at thrift stores that often times were missing pieces or didn’t work once batteries were put in. He wouldn’t remember his first Christmas where she could only afford Geoffery, but she would. She would never forget that and all the struggles Christmas seemed to bring.

Auston wanted to remind her of what Christmas could be.

“Yeah.” Auston nods. His arm wraps around her back and she nestles her head against his chest. Like so many times before, they are both brought to ease by the familiarity of the others touch. “He is your dad, Taylour’s grandpa. He may not my favourite person by any means, but I’m not going to be the reason they don’t know each other.”

“Thank you.” Tia sighs softly, listening to the slow, rhythmic beating of his heart. She knows how difficult it must have been for Auston to not only reach out, but to see him, and it makes this gift all the more meaningful. “I’m not ready to introduce them yet.”

“Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be okay with it.”

“Daddy come play!” Taylour beckons from the living room.

“I have to make breakfast.” Auston puts his chin gently on the top of her head and lets out a simplistic sigh. He always loved how Tia perfectly fit inside his arms, as if she was meant to be there.”

“Daddy, come play with my tower pleeeeease.”

Tia tilts her head and they both share a laugh. “I can make breakfast,” she tells him, earning a soft squeeze from Auston. “But you have to do the dishes.”

“Ugh,” he sighs. “Fine.”

Auston let go of Tia and before he had even taken two steps Taylour was pressing the yellow button, Ryder’s voice echoing “Chickaletta is in trouble” through the living room.

“Oh no!” Taylour picks up Marshall and connects him to zipline and sends him down. “We have to help him, Daddy!”

“To Save Chickaletta!” Auston quickly exclaims, falling onto the floor beside him.

Setting the vehicle in the garage, Auston waits as the tiny dog swings around the tower and lands on the trap door. As Taylour is reaching for the lever to open the door, Auston presses the button and launches the car without him and Chase lands on the ground.

Tia kept getting distracted from the kitchen watching them play. She loved the boyish grins and ridiculous voices Auston made up, the crooked smiles from their son and the never-ending bouts of laughter She loved everything about watching them together.

**

Tia was about to lose her mind.

She knew about this almost two weeks ago, Christmas dinner with the Barrie’s. Auston asked and explained it would just be the five of them, a small, casual dinner. He mentioned it would be easier to share in a dinner with others than prepare an entire meal themselves, and he was right. Even if they didn’t have turkey, it should be something special to mark the holiday, and Tia really didn’t want to go through all that trouble. It's only two people and one dinner. If she can handle the entire team and significant others at a skate, surely this dinner would be a cake walk.

Obviously, she was wrong, because she has nothing to wear. How this happened is beyond her. She is a fashion major, has her own line that is set to launch in a matter of weeks that packed an excessive amount of clothes given the short trip - a mix of things she has bought and made - not to mention the stunning cardigan Auston bought her. Yet she has nothing to wear.

Every single thing from her bag is on the bed, strewn about as she tried every combination of top and bottom imaginable. She has nothing to wear.

“T,” Auston sighs and walks into her room, trying to ignore the fact that she is still wearing pajama’s.

“I can’t…I’m sorry but I can’t go.”

“T, it’s dinner with my teammate not the Queen of England.” He rolls his eyes and tosses the cashmere sweater her way. “Just put on a shirt.”

“Why would the Queen have dinner with me?” She quietly questions, catching the shirt but making no effort to move.

“I got Taylour dressed, don’t make me dress you too,” he offers, but Tia can hear the playfulness in his words.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” Tia snaps back, grinning as pink begins to flush his cheeks.

“If you’re not dressed and at the door in five minutes you’re going in your pyjamas,” Auston tells her, shutting the door a little too forcefully behind him.

“Wow,” Auston thinks out loud when Tia emerges six minutes later – she always one to test him. When Tia stares at him with a slow growing smile his cheeks erupt with flames. “You look pretty, you always look pretty, but you look really pretty,” Auston fumbles over himself.

Her brown hair was blow-dried and left framing her face, the ends is loose curls. Her makeup was basic and effortless, a slight shimmer on the cheekbones when she smiled the only evidence, she had any on. Wearing jeans and a bright cherry red satin tank tucked in, she had the cashmere cardigan thrown overtop. She was absolutely stunning.

“Thanks,” Tia grins sweetly, the glimmer in her eyes the same their first date. “You boys ready?”

“We’re going to see Ralph!” Taylour slips his right foot into the left shoe and tugs at the Velcro then stands up with a proud smile on his face.

**

Auston could tell she was nervous without even looking.

The entire drive her ankles were crossed to stop her foot from bouncing, but her fingers kept taping against the glass pie dish in her lap. Michael Bublé, Mariah Carey and other Christmas music played quietly over the speaker but it was largely muffled by Taylour’s excited chatter in the backseat.

“It’s gonna be fine T,” Auston leans in tight to her ear while pressing the button in the elevator. “You’re going to be fine,” he tries to settle her anxiously tapping foot. “I promise, Tys and Victoria are nice, you’ll like them.”

“Yeah,” she swallows the lump in her throat. With a faint nod, she turns her head up toward him and tries to smile through her brewing anxiety.

“If I genuinely thought you wouldn’t get along, I wouldn’t have brought you here,” he offers. His right hand finds her back and softly swirls in circles while his left is tightly clasping Taylour’s. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“I know,” she nods at him, turning her gaze away as the elevator doors ding.

Auston doesn’t pull his hand back. Partially to guide her in the right direction, but also reassuringly, trying to reiterate that everything will be okay. Victoria and Tyson are two of the most easy-going people he has met, drama rarely accompanies their names.

“What the fuck am I doing here?” Tia thinks to herself as the door flings open.

“Hi,” a brunette with a similar stature to Auston greets them. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas!” Taylour cheers excitedly.

“Oh, Merry Christmas Taylour.”

He crouches down and welcomes the child’s eager embrace, but it’s short lived, because within a second the sound of nails clicking on the hardwood captures his attention. His posture extends and a wide smile hits his lips.

“Ralph!” He giggles loudly.

“Take your shoes off first!” Auston calls out, but he is already gone, running down the hall. “Sorry.” Auston hangs his coat on the rack. “I’ll be right back.”

Without an introduction Auston is down the hall and around the corner, leaving Tia awkwardly lingering at the door.

“I swear I taught him manners,” she quietly murmurs.

“He’s a kid on Christmas,” Tyson grins. Holding his hand out Tia graciously hands the pie over and begins to shake off her coat. “This looks amazing.”

“Just wait until you taste it,” Auston sneaks back down the hall holding Taylour’s jacket and shoes.

“I don’t know if I can,” Tyson laughs, the cinnamon and apples once again wafting into the air.

“Yeah, not surprising,” Auston teases.

Tyson smirks but shakes his head. “I’m Tyson.”

“Tia,” she sweetly smiles, trying to disguise the panic surrounding her heart.

“Please, come in,” he urges, stepping off to the side. “Contrary to what he may have told you, we’re actually very nice.”

Once again Auston’s hand found her back and he steered her down the hall, not that it was hard for Tia to determine where to go, Taylour’s laughter was indication enough. Tyson was a few steps behind but detoured into the kitchen to set down the pie.

“Thought I heard voices.” A stunning blonde walks into the room, her smile is bright and she has on jeans and a blue knit sweater, tiny snowflakes intermixed in the fabric. When she spots Taylour in an animated match of tug-o-war with Ralph, she grins and turns to them. “You must be Tia.”

“Yes, I am,” she replies.

“It’s so nice to meet you, I’m Victoria.” Tia reaches her hand out for a shake but is caught off guard when she hugs her instead. “We hug here,” Victoria laughs at her surprise then opens a cupboard and pulls out four wine glasses. “Heard you’re a sauvignon girl.”

“I am.”

**

“So, you’re a fashion major?” Tyson asks as if Auston hasn’t mentioned it twenty times that season.

“Yeah, at Ryerson,” Tia nods and takes a seat in the couch, Auston landing in the space beside her. “Going into my last semester.”

“You must be so excited to be done. I remember by final year I was just ready for it to be over.” Victoria smiles gently over her glass.

“Yeah, it’s been a journey. A bit longer than I planned,” Tia returns the smile. “But I finally see the finish line.”

Auston hears the certainty in her words and notices she is beginning to relax, which only makes him calmer too.

“And what is waiting at the finish line?” Tyson asks.

The sound of Ralph’s excited bark and Taylour’s soft yet devious giggle catches all their attention for a second, but when they see the two take off running, Taylour in front holding a toy sloth and Ralph behind they all laugh and return back to their conversation.

“I currently work at a store, Celeste’s, it’s a small boutique in town. The owner is a designer I interned with, so I’m hoping to stay on there after and get back behind the scenes to learn more from her.”

“You work, raise a child and go to school. How do you have time for that?”

“She also has her own line,” Auston adds, a hint of pride in his voice.

“Really?” Victoria lights up. “Would I have seen any of your stuff? Is it at Celeste’s?

“You don’t need more clothes,” Tyson teases, taking a slow sip of his rum and eggnog.

“Oh hush,” Victoria playfully smacks his knee.

“Actually, I haven’t launched yet,” she sends Auston a look.

“She is soon though,” Auston interjects and sits upright. “She has five pieces so far, a couple shirts, a blazer and pair of pants, she’s working on a dress but she hasn’t let me see it yet. A bunch of her friends are photographing in them this week and…what?“ Auston trails off when he notices three sets of eyes staring widely at him.

“You’re rambling,” Tia tells him.

“Oh,” he says through an obvious blush but makes no attempt to stop. “I’m just proud of you.” His hand slips to her shoulder and he gives it a soft squeeze, her face turning into a colour that resembles the red of her tank top. “Some people never accomplish what you’ve already managed, and you did it while raising a kid. It’s pretty incredible.”

For a moment it feels as though time stands still. The air that surrounds them is light and warm, full of hope long ago forgotten. Trying to ignore the flutter in her chest and the silent exchange of the Barries, Tia quietly whispers thank you and shakily brings the glass to her lips.

“So, what did Santa bring you Taylour?” Victoria changes the topic.

She knows that there is history between them, more than two people who used to date. Even if Steph hadn’t told her everything, and Fred didn’t tell spill to Tyson after one-to-many whiskeys, Victoria could have picked up on their electricity a mile away

**

Dinner was a little chaotic. Serving of food, stepping over each other, Taylour accidentally dropping turkey on the floor for Ralph and whining that he didn’t want to eat his cauliflower, wine glasses that never seemed to empty. Once it was over and only a heap of dishes remained, Taylour was once again gone in the living room with Ralph.

“You’re playing hockey with Justin Bieber tomorrow?” Tia’s jaw is stuck open and her eyes dart between both men.

“Yeah, he came to a game and just slid into my DM’s,” Auston tells her.

“Justin Bieber just slid into your DM’s?” She doesn’t mean to sound so shocked but there is no way this is real life.

“Yeah.” Auston shrugs dismissively, as if everything about this is a normal part of life for him. “He even told me he likes my mustache.”

“Oh really?” Victoria snorts over her wine glass.

“Well, someone has too,” Tia teases.

“Taylour does and his approval is all I need,” Auston winks.

“Right.” Tia laughs and stands up, beginning to collect the dishes from the table and carry them to the sink. Victoria is hot on her heels, telling her not to worry, but there was no way she’d leave the mess, she was raised better than that.

Tyson and Auston set out to clean all the food from the plates and put leftovers in the fridge. The smiles and laughter from earlier don’t stop, instead they just migrate toward the sink. Tia doesn’t know why she was nervous about meeting them, in the few short hours together she felt as if she’d known them her whole life.

The four of them got along so well nobody seemed to notice the lack of noise venturing from the living room, neither Taylour nor Ralph making a sound. It wasn’t until Victoria once again had topped up Auston’s glass with wine (Tia had long ago stopped drinking to drive them home) did she notice it, and she all but melted at the sight.

Barely managing to set the bottle down she quietly walks into the living room and snaps a picture of Taylour asleep and cuddling on the couch, tucked under a warm blanket. Ralph who is equally tired from the child’s energy, is curled under his arm, both of them gently snoring.

“Doesn’t this just make you want more kids,” she coo’s, walking over to show everyone the picture.

“One day,” Tyson shakes his head and grins. He’s long known Victoria is the woman he wants kids with, wouldn’t have married her otherwise, but he’d like a bit more time before making the jump from dog-dad to human-dad.

“Yeah,” Tia sighs softly, feeling her heart melt.

“Just so cute,” she turns the phone back towards her for another glance before showing it to Auston.

“Yeah, I don’t want anymore,” Auston states, drawing the eyes of both Tia and Victoria. Tia would never judge someone for not wanting kids, but she and Auston had many conversations about their future. They both saw big families, lots of kids and a dog running around, so to hear him say he only wants one catches her off-guard.

“Really?” Victoria asks, her tone now neutral.

“Yeah,” he replies, offering no explanation. There just isn’t a good way to say I only saw myself having kids with her and not sound helplessly in love. He brought it up to Morgan and he reminded Auston that he could feel that way about someone else one day, and it only made him realize people won’t understand his reasoning. And that’s fine, they don’t have to because they are his reasons.

“So,” Auston clears his throat and straightens his back, trying to steer the conversation in another direction. “I think it’s time for us to head out,” he explains, nodding to Taylour.

With Taylour nestled on his shoulder, Auston found everyone by the door and began to step into his shoes. Tia pushed her arms through the sleeves of her jacket, and held Taylour’s belongings in her hand, no point putting them on just for a car ride.

“Thank you for tonight.” Tia wraps her free arm around Victoria. “It was a really good night.” 

“Of course,” Victoria squeezes her back. “You’re welcome here anytime, especially if you bring this cutie.”

Taglist: If you are in this list you have expressed interest in the series (either through likes/reblogs or by asking). If it’s crossed out your tag didn’t work. If you would like to be removed or added to the list send me an ask:

@youtxbemusic @nicoleloveshockey @emsully2002 @hockeypuckspottspot @ashleymarine @albal321 @b34ut1fulb4st4rds @biznastysloneshift12 @burkylover @c-tangerine @canadian-girl87 @crazzyfann @dana-hqy @delighttfulll @evawest5 @every-beautifulthing-thereis @greendragonzz @heatherawoowoo @hockeybabe87 @hockeyinaussie @hockeyisit @hockeypuckedmeup @je-ne-regrette-rien @jakekisska @partypoison00 @princesscameston @puccbunni @queenmarvel21 @sixmapleleafs @starswin @trashforbarzal @0kikina0 @1-fuzzy-squirrels @janeydeaux @stuff4me2do @callsign-denmark @monnbc @simpgirl-lat @huneyjojo221 @idfan21 @elly-dx @samanthasgone @holyalfalfasprout @lwstuff

[etherea1ity]

Hello! I’m going through something very similar with my ex best friend so I thought of sharing it with you, maybe to make you feel less alone and maybe to try finding answers, I don’t know. She’s lived far away from me for years and we used to talk/text each other EVERY DAY. She was the only person I felt like talking every day, and then suddenly last year it started to change. It wasn’t every day anymore and then one time I sent her something I had written (a story I wrote in English and then translated it for her to read in our own language, something very important to me that she ignored and never said anything concrete about) and she just… ghosted me for a month or longer ??? and I think I was the one to reach out ?! I’m not sure but even if it was her she made it seem as if I was to blame for the time we spent without messaging each other too. I just didn’t want to bother bc she gets in these moods where nothing I say helps. Then it became the new normal, waiting for very sparse replies. To this day I miss her, but when we speak she acts normal and then ghosts me for more months. Last time I messaged her I was talking about how I was feeling and I was in such a sad place mentally, reading that she had seen my message and decided to not reply for this long broke my heart. Next week is her birthday and I honestly feel so bad about it. I didn’t want to message her, it’s like I try to be part of her life and I want to know what’s going on, to support her, but maybe nothing is going on and she’s just happy without me. If she missed me as much as I miss her she wouldn’t do this. I think of not sending anything on her bday but that’s so not me, and then I also don’t want for her to feel obligated to reply or to talk to me just bc I sent her a nice message, you know? This type of situation is the worst and I’m sorry you’re going through something similar. I hope you can feel better about it, I mean, it’s pretty lame when friendships end up becoming these sporadic interactions on birthdays but what can we do? At least we feel sorry about it… Good luck to you! Xxx

im so sorry you're going through this love 🫂 the hard truth is that if she wanted to keep contact with you the way you want to keep contact with her, she would've reached out too and you shouldn't have to make this much effort :// since we're both in the same situation here, i think it's time for both of us to move on and stop wasting our energy here! you're not alone on this ✊️

[3-lavender]

Guys I need genuine advice. Please PLEASE just give me advice. I don’t know what to do.

So I “dated” this guy off and on for four months. It was more of a situationship but like as serious as a situationship can get I think. He told me he loved me, he talked about our future and asked if I’d eventually want to move in with him, he talked about telling ppl we met at 17 and how cool that would be when we’re older. He bought me a really nice and expensive phone for my birthday. Everything we took a break it was only about a week long and it was usually because I brought up something that was hurting me and he’d cry and say he had commitment issues and ask to just be friends but then a week or so later he’d kiss me and we’d be good for about a month. The last time I brought something up, it was over text because I hadn’t seen him in a few days or called him either and I didn’t know when I’d see him again. He also stopped saying I love you. I sent a text explaining that I felt lonely in our relationship and how it felt imbalanced effort wise and how the main thing was that I just really really missed him. And then, he didn’t answer. He just didn’t answer. It was like everything he said f before didn’t matter anymore. I sent him a message two days later asking if he was okay, and then another on the fourth day of not hearing from him in anyway. I told him it hurt that he was ending things by ghosting me and that he could’ve just told me if he was done or found somebody worse or something. He answered hours later telling me he was sorry and that he just needed to think and that he was deciding to keep to himself because he couldn’t keep putting me through the off and on again. He told me that no he hasn’t found somebody else and that there probably wouldn’t be someone else for a very very long time. I answered him by asking to at least say goodbye in person. A day later he said he wanted to but he just couldn’t and that he was going through so much but he was going to see me again (because we met at work and he loved stores but still came to mine occasionally to grab stuff or give us stuff) and that he just couldn’t do this right now. After reading that I told him I was here for him and that he needs to take care of himself and that no job is worth his happiness. He hearted that message and we haven’t talked since. In a few days it’ll have been three months since we last talked.

Here’s the thing, i started thinking about him less and it stopped stinging as much when another day would go by without him saying goodbye or he’d come in the store and not even look my way. But then, i checked his Spotify and i found he was following a girl named Lizzie. She was the only person he was following and she was following him back. I did some stalking and found out she’s going to the college in the town he works and I remembered that she worked at his store at least four months ago. I broke down after I found all that. He’s really particular in who he follows. In everything. I feel like puking and it’s just brought me back to the beginning. Did he stop saying I love you because of her? Why her? Did all of it mean nothing? It hurts. And idk I want to send basically a goodbye message. I just want to say goodbye and be over it. I want to tell him how much I loved him and how much everything hurt and how I don’t have any anger towards him and how I want him to be happy and how I know I was a part of the reason why it didn’t work out and how he will always be my first love and how I believe or love was imbalanced. I want to tell him. I want him to know it’s still affecting me. I want to ask him if all of it meant nothing? Why he always getting things off when I brought something up instead of fully talking about it. I want to tell him that I was always ready and willing to work through everything and it broke my heart every time he ended things. I just want a real goodbye. I want real answers, and I want him to KNOW. To know that it wasn’t just a little fling for me. That it meant so much.

But here’s where the advice comes in, is it a good idea to send this message. Or what should i put in it if so? Should I bring up Lizzie? Or just alewd to there being a girl. Should I tell him he really hurt me? Should I tell him even though he really hurt me I feel pathetic because I still would do anything for him? I feel crazy with all this inside of me. I know part of me just wants to talk to him again but another part of me feels like it would help me move on. I want this constant pain to end. But if he doesn’t answer, will it make it worse? Can someone please just give me advice? He’s my first love and even though it was a toxic Relationship I still loved him so much and I still do as much as I hate it. Please help me. I feel trapped. I feel so hurt.

[lovemelikeastarfish]

I can’t think of one reason to go on living. There is no one in my life that actually cares about me or my feelings. I literally have no one left. Not one soul.

I have no job, I have no friends - I lost them all one by one until they have all gone. I am completely misunderstood by everyone I do know - my in-laws, my basically ‘estranged’ husband. They chose to make me stay home alone on Christmas while my unvaccinated nephew in-law was welcomed fully. No one tried to plead with him on my behalf. No one showed any disdain for the fact that he was ultimately isolating me from Christmas. Instead, they had a grand old time with him on Christmas Day while I sat home alone with nothing. No apology from anyone, no phone call of concern.

Apparently he is so disconnected from reality that he sent a gift home with my traitor husband and had the nerve to text me and ask me if I got it. I hadn’t gone near it. The only gift that would have been worth anything to me was to get vaccinated so that he would put me and his elderly grandparents is less jeopardy of getting sick. He was told that I wasn’t there because he wasn’t vaccinated. Did he think he could just act like he didn’t cause my continued isolation and drive a deeper wedge between my husband and I, as my husband chose to ignore my feelings and my convictions and leave me alone to go there Christmas Day.

His mother didn’t call me to apologize for the situation that she could have altered, or even to say Merry Christmas. This is after some other unfeeling things that she said to me the last time I’d seen her, all of which makes clear that she neither understands nor cares about my feelings and concerns. Prior to this we had been some kind friends. We are now not. Her husband has treated me with disdain almost the entire time I’ve known him. I suppose now they are in sync.

My husband comes home the next day as if nothing has happened. He doesn’t understand why I would be hurt and angry about him going and and in general treating him with the love and respect that I am not afforded. He hasn’t had my back in years upon years, so fuck him. He broke his vows long before I ever did. Everyone else gets the benefit of the doubt except me. As if there is something fundamentally unloveable about me. Even though I have always been generous and kind to these people. After I spent 25 years buying the nephews Birthday gifts, Christmas gifts, graduation gifts, confirmation gifts, the list goes on. But it’s obviously irrelevant.

My ‘estranged’ husband lost my respect long ago. He continues to treat me like a child, he continues to not communicate in any way, he continues to purposely not understand how I feel about the house we live in and refuses to even entertain the idea of finding a suitable home, even as this one sucks money from our savings and remains a cold, unappealing place. He continues to pour money into this house on landscaping and structures that tell me he will never consider leaving here for a more appropriate and appealing home. And that I have no possibility to live in a home that I actually love and feel comfortable with for the rest of my lifetime, which is certainly a component of my wanting my lifetime to end as soon as possible.

When I married him I thought I was so lucky to have someone who respected me so much and held me in such high esteem while loving me dearly. But that dynamic died so long ago I can’t even remember it. I walk on eggshells. Nothing that I say or want for us is right. I’m mentally unstable and none of my ideas or feelings are worth a moment’s thought. We don’t speak, we don’t spend any time in each other’s company, we don’t communicate with each other, outside of the times when I try to start a dialogue with a detailed letter of communication and how I feel, which each and every time is ignored.

So really, what is left for me? What happiness could I recognize in this environment. I’m too old and ill to start over completely alone, and do not have the money to do so. Nothing shows any opportunity to get better. And to live with this giant hole of nothingness and negativity that encompasses me, I’m better off simply dead.

I adore my little dog who has been my loyal and only best friend for years. I will remain alive until he is no longer able to stay alive, and once he’s gone I will truly have nothing left to live for. And that’s when I will take my own life. I know how I will take it, I already have a plan. Maybe the obnoxious, uncaring shrink I’ve been assigned to and who has played a large part in my life’s degradation will get his comeuppance. His dereliction of duty could not be more profound. His name is ———————, by the way, and he deserves to have his medical license taken away.

I’ve thought about just going out and doing something I enjoy, among crowds of people, and likely catching Covid and potentially dying that way. But I think that would be painful and miserable and messy. My plan is a much quicker and painless way to die.

And I don’t feel badly because there’s no one here in this life who will truly miss me, and I’ll probably be forgotten very quickly.

I just hope there is something on the other side that is better and happier than I’ve found here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wish that John would have been the kind of doting husband that so many others I know have had. I wish he cared as deeply as I needed him to. I wish he understood what he has done to me. And because none of that has happened, I wish I would have made the choice long ago to be with someone who treated me so much better. Someone who was vigilantly protective over me. Someone who was so much more proficient in communication. But he went on to find a different soulmate and make a life that he loved. I should be happy for him. But all I can be is sad. For everything I never had.

I don’t care if my husband’s family thinks I am irrational or phobic. You would think that they’d endeavor to be understanding and compassionate. But I’ve learned that no one is able to bring themselves to feel compassion for me. There’s something blocking it and I don’t what that is in order to work on removing it. And no one will tell me, they’ll just whisper behind my back. So what’s the point of going on with life? There’s nothing here for me except misery. And there’s no way for me to get out. It’s the only natural solution.

[ambymyself]

laties and gentlement he’s back (unfortunately)

friday december 2, 2022

so i’ve been going through a lil something about my mom lately. just some more of her disliking me type of shit. idk whenever i tell somebody about it, i feel like i’m exaggerating. i feel like i’m the only one who sees it, and everyone else - those who i DO tell - either doesn’t believe me or is just denying it. i’ll just say it and make it quick.

so on thanksgiving, my family got together as usual. it was fine i guess, thanksgiving is never a good holiday for me for some reason. i always feel alone and pitiful after coming home, but not this year for once. anyway, during the dinner my mom was telling everyone how she was going to vegas again. i was like “oh i’m 21 now why didn’t you tell me !?” she straight up said nope! and i was like how come and she said it was for work, and only her and my stepdad are going. i was like fine and let it slide, and brought up my birthday. i want to go to san diego again for my birthday and she immediately shut that down and said “I’M (emphasis) going to mew mexico.” in a not-with-you tone. i was like damn ok! so i just let that all go even though i kinda felt like shit after it. so a few days go by and i’m pondering, thinking i’ll be fine at home on my birthday, since no one ever really celebrated my birthday before. until i get a text from my brother....

“basically got a loan for mom to take [stepdad], [stepbrother], and [stepbrother’s girlfriend] to vegas” .......... i was like wait. my mom told me she was going to ask him for a loan to pay for “christmas presents.” and i didn’t warn him in time because i did that for her last year. and she’s taking THEM along????? mind you that girl and my stepbrother have been seeing each other for less than a year, maybe only six months. so it was a hard NO to me but them-

i got so fucking mad when i found out. and i know why they get to go too, it’s because they are chronic alcoholics just like my mom and stepdad. my mom doesn’t like that i don’t drink anymore for some reason, she’s always mocking me about it. and that’s that right. WOW. i already felt like shit before but this just sent me over the edge. and i didn’t even tell her how i felt because she never fucking listens to me and it’s already too late anyway. she keeps trying to perpetuate this idea that i hate her in front of my family all the time yet she does this to me and my brother. i don’t even really care about going to vegas anyway but WOWWWWW. if i was a parent, i would NEVER. so she just gets to make me feel like shit and guilty in front of my family, and then pack up her things and go on vacation afterward while i’m at home, working. when i read this, i look jealous but i promise i am not. it’s her actions that are getting to me. just why? that’s what i have been dealing with, and i only told a few people. my brother even feels bad though he’s the one who is paying for them. he even offered to help me pay for my christmas present but i think i will just pay for it all myself. i don’t need help

OK OK OK OK OK so let me tell you what inspired me to write this today. after a few days has gone by, SHE APOLOGIZED!!!!!!!!! and she so conveniently forgot about me asking her to join. she apologizes........after she already left. huh..... after all i was going through, she just apologizes and moves with their lil work vacation...... i will give her the silent treatment because....... fuck it. what’s the point.

[thegempage]

i went into this evening intending to write more beyond the divide (linked bcus i do still like it, pls go read my fic) but instead my brain started thinking about an incredibly sad btd au that i'll finish one day. so have some previews of that

and like. it's an apocalypse story and it is sad. this is not a story with a happy ending, so fair warning that that's the vibe of these pieces (but i'm gonna stay away from the worst ones)

He has told four people the world is ending.

Part of him feels guilty for not telling more people, but with one-hundred and sixty-three days left before it all crashes down, it’d only cause more issues than it’d solve. Staring at the ceiling, Dave somehow still regrets telling the four other people he did.

(But he couldn’t not tell his mom, she’d been worried sick about Rose, and after two weeks of seeing her cry and fret he couldn’t hold back anymore that she was probably never coming home, because she’d done something and now the whole world was on a timer.)

(And he couldn’t keep it from Roxy or Dirk because they’d come down to see him after their mom had called them and asked if they’d heard from Rose and how could he explain why their mother hadn’t come out of her room in three days except with the truth?)

(And Jade he regretted the most, but she’s his friend -- was Rose’s friend -- and she didn’t deserve any more lies than Rose had already given them.)

(He doesn’t have the heart to tell June. He hasn’t asked if Jade has or will. He tells her every time she asks that Rose is off on her own and she must’ve broken her phone or something and the lie won’t hold forever but maybe it’ll hold for another one-hundred and sixty-three days. Or maybe one-hundred and sixty-two, so he can make sure to tell her goodbye.)

-

(He has accepted the dual truths that he is in love with Karkat and will likely never be able to indulge in what that would’ve meant, but that doesn’t make him ache any less, doesn’t rid him of the constant need to be close.)

Karkat looks startled for a moment but he settles against Dave’s shoulder with a grateful sigh. “It’s not actually that exciting,” he confesses, and Dave can’t tell if it’s his imagination or if Karkat is staring at his hand. “Mostly it’s just… a day you take off together. You’re supposed to spoil your partner on their birthday, you know? Get them food they like or help them cook or watch something they like or… whatever normal intimate shit you don’t always have time for. My dads like to spend the whole day sightseeing since it’s hard to find the time otherwise.”

There is a possibility that the question he wants to ask will backfire. Dave is too used to having Karkat around, now, the idea of losing him, of spending the rest of the world alone again, tears his stomach to pieces, but it doesn’t even bother coming out as a question with how hot it burns on his tongue. “I could, I dunno, do that for you.”

-

sup june

by this point we've either sent out our last texts to you or you haven't heard from us in a few days, but im not sure which. this is a gift, an explanation, and a goodbye, because rose wouldve gotten a kick out of the amount of efficiency i crammed into this thing.

our world is ending.

like full-on, universe-destroying, doomed-timeline ending. rose made a mistake but none of us got to her in time to help fix it nor can we leave this world without just dying anyway so its curtain calls for us. i wish youd gotten to see it honestly, its pretty dope, and we wanted to invite you for your birthday but. nothing to do about it now huh. so im sending this

-

sup june

by this point we've either sent out our last texts to you or you haven't heard from us in a few days, but im not sure which. this is a gift, an explanation, and a goodbye, because rose wouldve gotten a kick out of the amount of efficiency i crammed into this thing.

our world is ending.

like full-on, universe-destroying, doomed-timeline ending. rose made a mistake but none of us got to her in time to help fix it nor can we leave this world without just dying anyway so its curtain calls for us. i wish youd gotten to see it honestly, its pretty dope, and we wanted to invite you for your birthday but. nothing to do about it now huh. so im sending this

-

Dave does not cry thinking about his family. He can’t, he has nothing left to give that he won’t need for tomorrow, for giving Karkat the best he can manage at the end of the world. He is haunted by the realization, the slow, creeping realization, that he is the last one left.

It doesn't feel as shocking as it should. It's not hard to be the most careful in a family of risk takers.

-

and that's it jfkldsafds this au does in fact make me want to cry so <3 hopefully one day i'll finish it and inflict it on everyone

[internetgremlin-writes]

Flat Spin [Chapter Three]

Summary/Prompt: Flat Spin

1. A spin in which an aircraft descends in tight circles whilst remaining almost horizontal

2. A state of agitation or panic [informal]

As the only female driver on the grid, you’re fighting a constant need to prove yourself, however sometimes the line between accepting help and hand-outs is more blurred than you think

Pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr x Female Reader

Warnings: Miami tbh

Word Count: 6,100

Me: I'm going to finish the prompt challenge before I post anything else

Me, less than a day later: I lied

This is the first of two chapters covering the Miami madness. Bit more world-building and some more cameos but stick with it, there's still plenty of Carlos

Previous Chapters: One || Two

The first thing you noticed about Miami was the heat.  If you’d thought Imola was hot with its dry European spring, then Miami was a boiling swamp.  It was the kind of hot that took your breath away from the second you stepped off the aeroplane, especially after spending the last week of April in England, where the weather had yet to catch up with the extended daylight hours.

The week at home had been just what you needed.  Since joining F1 and the big paycheck lifestyle it would have made sense to buy your own place, but considering you grew up less than an hour’s drive away from the Aston Martin team’s base it seemed silly to move out of your parents’ home just for the sake of it.  You were looking to buy your own apartment out of the country, however, for all the travelling you did you were yet to find anywhere that felt like it could be a good second home.  Plus, you adored your family. 

You spent your week avoiding team meetings as much as possible, but they didn’t seem too interested in getting a hold of you anyway.  The day after you landed, your personal trainer, Jake, cornered you and set out an intensive exercise routine for the week.  The two days you’d had off to recover from the crash were bothering him to no end, and he wanted you in the sports research unit at the local university doing temperature and oxygen tests.  You filled the rest of the time with sports at his request.  Swimming, squash and gym sessions made up the majority of your training.  You’d also grown up around horses, and with your sister being an up and coming showjumper there was always plenty that needed exercising. 

Between all the exercise you’d had packed into your schedule there wasn’t time for much else, but as always you managed to squeeze in a couple of visits with your best friend, lots of cuddles with the labradors and got permission to get your car onto the test track for a joyride.  You had an Aston Martin, obviously, but nothing on the planet could compare to your baby.  She was nothing special, but she was your first car; a 17th birthday present from your parents and you’d always been too sentimental to let her go even when you started driving supercars.  She was a little hatchback, bright red with two white stripes and she screamed at 70 miles per hour but there was no greater joy than ragging her around the test track at Silverstone to set a new record time. 

Usually, aside from work and the odd dinner with Seb, you didn’t think much about the other drivers when you were away from the track.  But now there was Carlos.  He’d kept up a near-constant stream of conversation, started by him insisting that you were to text him the second you were off the plane and safely home.  And that was just the start of things.  He wanted to know how you were, what you were doing and if you were having fun.  He was still worried about your neck after the crash no matter how many times you told him you were fine.  He told you all about his own days.  He sent you pictures.  Of his home cooking, of his vintage Ferrari, of the view from the balcony in his bedroom, and so many of his dog - a gorgeous wire haired pointer called Piñon.  You had to admit that you loved it.  Talking to Carlos was easy, it felt natural.  It felt right.  You could even cope with the comments from your parents, who had both noticed how much you were staring at your phone with a stupid grin, and how you would virtually dive for it when the notifications pinged.

By the time Friday rolled around you were itching to be in Miami.  You already knew that Carlos was once again staying in the same hotel as you, as he’d called you as soon as he’d been given his accommodation information to compare with yours.  He’d video called you, too, on Sunday night, so excited that he couldn’t wait another day to show you around the hotel complex and insisted on taking you on a walking tour via his phone. 

The plane journey itself was almost torture, there was no way you could sleep when you were so excited and also terrified of the weekend ahead.  You’d been studying the track information pack Aston Martin had sent you on the way over, and it was starting to look more and more interesting the further you looked into it, but the off-track theatrics seemed beyond ridiculous.  You were hoping that the simpler corners and long straights were designed for a more dramatic race, with lots of overtaking action as that was where you excelled.  Although the itinerary you’d been sent seemed a lot less exciting and you left that file unopened in favour of watching the virtual lap again.  

As requested, you sent Carlos a text from the back of the taxi letting him know that you’d landed safely.  He didn’t reply instantly and his Instagram story revealed he was out golfing with Lando and some of the other drivers, which was a relief to you because you were already feeling the effects of the jetlag and the fact that you hadn’t slept on the plane kick in.  By the time you had checked into the hotel and gotten your bags up to the room your eyes were so heavy that you decided to go straight to bed despite it being only 7 pm. 

You woke up the next morning after a solid sleep, feeling quite pleased with yourself.  It was 8 am, so early but not extreme, and with the sun shining through your curtains you felt refreshed and ready to go.  You decided put on your swimming costume under a pair of running shorts and a tank top so that you could head to the pool to get in some good laps after a light breakfast.  You were examining the buffet spread, the first instance of the extravaganza that was Miami, when there was a tap on your shoulder and before you could turn around a familiar low voice was in your ear.

“Hola,” 

“Carlos!”  He was behind you, grinning at you like you were the sun.  He immediately stepped forward and pulled you into a hug.  You tensed for a second because you were in a very public place full of drivers and team staff, but then you felt him and you could smell his cologne and his hair was just brushing the side of your face and you could feel yourself caving into him the way you had the last time you’d seen him.  You withdrew a little quickly, much to your body’s protest, but no one was really watching you and you had been informed that media and paparazzi were formally banned from your hotel complex.  Your racing heart betrayed how secretly pleased you were with his affection.

“I wasn't expecting to be seeing you so early,”  you made a false show of offence at his comment, but your smile gave you away. 

“Just because the rest of you think sprinting down a beach is the best way to manage jetlag,”  you thought there was something akin to pride in his eyes when you referenced the picture he'd posted yesterday.  The one in which he had been very shirtless.

“So you saw it then,”  it wasn't a question.  He had that look on his face when he was probing someone, you’d seen it in some of the challenge videos.  Eyebrows just pulled together, looking through those dark lashes, a lazy smile on his face that just flashed his teeth, but full attention on you.  You could feel the heat rising in your face, you'd never felt so easily flustered in someone's presence before.  You wracked your brain for a witty retort trying to break through the fog that seemed to descend over you when he was around, turning back to the breakfast buffet as you did to keep up with the moving queue. 

“So you wanted me to see it?”  He had nothing to say to that, but you didn't miss the knowing look he shot you as he followed you along the line of excessive food.  You opted for a simple bowl of fruit and yoghurt, and a small pastry on the side as a treat, light enough that you would be fine in the pool shortly after.  You started to turn towards the small table you'd spotted by a window which looked out over the seafront, but Carlos caught your attention. 

“Come sit with us,”  you wanted to question who ‘us’ was, but you already knew you weren't going to say no based on the way he was looking at you alone.  You just knew he’d grown up using and abusing the puppy-dog eyes effect.  So with a resigned grin and butterflies in your stomach, you followed him towards a table on the other side of the hall were a small group of your fellow drivers were sat.  

Already sat at the table in the middle of the room were Lando, Charles, Pierre, Yuki and Alex.  After a round of the usual ‘hellos’, ‘how are yous’ and ‘what did you do for the week offs’ the talk quickly turned to racing.  You hadn't spent much time with the other drivers recently, various happenings keeping you occupied even in the paddock, and you found yourself realising how much you’d missed their antics. 

“Did you see the itinerary for the week, Y/N?”  Charles was asking you through a mouthful of syrupy pancakes.  You shook your head. 

“Not yet,”  Lando rolled his eyes.  He was usually pretty quiet around you despite you being only a year older than him, but today he seemed more comfortable in your presence. 

“It’s shit,”  Carlos flicked him on the arm with a quick scold.  “What!?”  Lando protested “It is shit.  Most of us start today,”

“Today?”

“Yeah.  There’s like TV shows filming and stuff.  I have James Corden,”  he didn't seem too excited about it.  There was a nervous pressure in your chest, kicking yourself for not checking if you had any plans with the team today.  You were used to not having any responsibilities until the media days, but in hindsight, it should have been obvious that with Maimi being described as the Superbowl of F1 the usual routine would be non-existent. 

“And more conferences tomorrow,”  Pierre added.  Carlos nodded then, catching your gaze and holding eye contact with you as he spoke, enough to make you work hard not to squirm in your seat. 

“We do one altogether.  All the drivers and the principles,”  that caught your attention 

“That's like 30 people in one interview,”  Carlos nodded at you, confirming you hadn’t heard him wrong.

“Yup,”  Lando again, half-heartedly stirring his cereal as he spoke. “They're calling it the opening ceremony.  D'you reckon I can drink this?”  He held up his bowl to show Carlos the leftover milk.  Carlos shook his head like an exasperated parent, but Lando grinned and lifted the bowl to his mouth anyway.  You had to swallow the panic rising within you, really really wishing you had read the itinerary now.  Pierre said something to Charles in French and you found yourself zoning out a little.

Media was something you were used to.  Press appearances, interviews, screaming fans; it was all part of the job.  So was ignoring the hateful comments and booing thrown your way.  You could do it, you'd been trained from a young age to do so, but it didn't mean you enjoyed it, especially when your gender was thrown into the questioning.  You were only just becoming comfortable enough with the other 19 drivers that the random-mix conferences and interviews you did were tolerable, but the idea of everyone and all the team principles on stage in front of a roaring crowd with people throwing questions left, right and centre sounded downright terrifying.  

Carlos must have noticed you'd gone quiet because he gently elbowed you from where you were sitting beside him.  He watched you with silent question, searching your face for an answer.  You sent him a tight smile and shook your head, before quickly turning your attention to Charles who was dramatically describing his latest fail on the video game streams he did.  Charles was one of the nicest people you knew and he was so funny, even if most of the time it was unintentional. 

Yuki had already excused himself by the time you'd finished picking at the cinnamon roll you no longer wanted, so you didn't feel too guilty when you stood up to leave either.  You wished everyone a good day, hoping to god that the way you mentioned you’d be going to check out the pool was casual.  You didn’t dare look at Carlos as you said it.

You didn't settle until you were back at the hotel room in front of your iPad, scrolling through the itinerary Katie had sent you last week.  Luckily you didn't have anything on in the morning, but you had two media sessions in the afternoon and a sponsorship dinner with Seb and Mike, your team principal.  Your heart sank a little at realising you were already busy, but you tried not to let it bring you down too much and headed down to the pool. 

The pool was huge, the same size as the competitive one you trained in at home, plus there were three separate jacuzzis dotted around the outside and a whole side dedicated to a spa unit with multiples of everything, including the biggest steam room you’d ever seen.  You started with a swan dive into a freestyle stroke at a much faster pace than usual and continued without pause for at least half an hour or until your lungs were burning and you could feel yourself physically unable to push anymore. 

You came up for air, trying to ignore the fact you were panting a little harder than you wanted to be and hoisted yourself out of the water and into one of the jacuzzis where you leaned with your head back as the warm, high-pressure water did its job.  You were just closing your eyes, finally managing to dissipate enough of the stress of the morning to relax your muscles when you felt someone slide into the small pool with you. 

There, sat opposite you, in full shirtless glory was Carlos.  Your heart leapt.  You’d seen all of the drivers shirtless before, courtesy of their PR teams and Instagram stories, not to mention some questionable paddock behaviour, and similarly, they had all seen you before in bikini tops and sports bras.  Growing up in sport meant you were used to being surrounded by male athletes; well-toned bodies on display were something you were alarmingly comfortable with, bordering on normal at this point in your life.  But there was something different about Carlos that made you feel like a teenager again.  You had to work really hard not to stare at the way his tan skin pulled smooth over the muscle, his shoulders broad and chest neatly defined.  His hair was wet, pushed off his forehead by a pair of goggles.

“Hey,”  you murmured and he took that as his invitation to come closer, manoeuvring himself so he was sitting beside you.  You were acutely aware of the arm he was resting on the poolside, right behind your back. 

“Is everything alright?”  You laughed humourlessly. 

“Straight to the point, huh?”  Carlos sent you a look that said he was being serious. 

“You were quiet at breakfast,”  you managed a sad smile, realising there was no point in trying to conceal anything from him. 

“I didn’t look at my itinerary before breakfast,”  You admitted, but he only raised an eyebrow at you, clearly waiting for you to get to the real problem.  “I guess I’m not gonna get to take you out today,”  Carlos leant forward as if he was about to touch your face, but he hesitated at the last moment and cast a look across the pool.  Instead, the hand behind your back found your shoulder for a second.  You instantly melted into the contact. 

“That's why you're sad?”  You couldn't identify the emotion in his voice.  You nodded because it felt silly to admit it out loud, though Carlos’ expression was nothing but sincere.

“And this whole thing, it’s so much…everything,”  he nodded, not quite present as his gaze shifted, blanky staring across the pool.

“It is a lot of attention… a lot of fans.  That’s good,”  you couldn’t help but adore his simplicity sometimes.  Because when he said it like that, it sounded nothing less than pure positivity.  Just a lot of fans itching to see their favourite people.  You thanked Carlos and he looked at you like he was aching for a second, but before you could ask him if he was okay he stepped in once more.  “It will be good.  And we will do the second date, even if it’s not today,” 

“So it was a date?”  You only realised you’d said it out loud when Carlos’ eyebrows shot up into his hairline and he was looking at you like you’d just said something completely ridiculous and borderline offensive. 

“Did you think I take everyone out like that?  I don’t share dessert with Lando!”  the image of Carlos and Lando sharing tiramisu was enough to break you from the mood you’d been in all morning and you found yourself dissolved into giggles and unable to recover for a moment.  It didn’t help that Carlos knew what you were thinking and was reenacting the ‘What’s in the Box?’ video he’d done with Lando a few years ago that had involved a throwing a tiramisu around the studio by flicking water at you as if it was the cake.  When you’d started to recover a little Carlos dipped his head a little closer, his voice lowering as he delivered his kill shot. 

“Do you think I kiss anyone like that?”  If he’d said anything else you wouldn’t have known because all you could hear was the blood rushing in your ears and the thudding of your heart.  Carlos moved away quickly, and stretched casually, the intimate moment so quick that anyone else would have missed it. 

“Well, no,”  you admitted, not quite able to meet his eye because you knew your whole face was bright red and if you were being honest you didn’t know if you could stop yourself from throwing yourself at him right there and then.  “Shit,”  you’d caught sight of the clock in the background and realised that you only had an hour before you were supposed to be meeting Katie before your first media session. 

“You have to go?”

“I have to go,”  you started to stand up and hoist yourself out of the pool, but Carlos caught your elbow just before you did so. 

“Hey, don’t worry okay?  The media will be fine.  And I promise you can take me on a date,” he winked, then hesitated for a moment  “I’ve wanted the chance to take you out for a while.  I’m not gonna miss it now,”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your good mood from the moment with Carlos in the swimming pool lasted for all of five minutes of your meeting with Katie, by which point you realised that the appearances you’d been scheduled were so far beyond your usual scope of work.  Like Lando had said at breakfast, your day wasn’t the usual press conferences and interviews, but instead, you were being shuttled between sets like some kind of movie star.  You had appearances with two-late night show hosts who wanted bits and interviews, a pre-recorded breakfast show and your own team PR and Grill the Grid.  

The bits that involved you being at the track were better.  One of the late-night show hosts had planned for you to take him out on a fast lap in an Aston Martin, the man beside you was supposed to be asking you interview questions but you were throwing the car so aggressively around the track that he couldn’t do anything other than grip onto his seat and grit his teeth.  Perhaps you’d been trying to prove a point because he had flippantly said he was going to be fine because you were driving the lap, but even so, you could see the mischievous glint in Seb’s eyes when you pulled back into the pit lane with a very pale and sweaty celebrity who needed to lie down for a few minutes.

The next one wanted you and Seb to do a doughnut challenge, they’d originally wanted it to be in the F1 cars but the engineers refused point-blank so you were back in the very sporty road car.   It was all good fun until the show host had you teach him how to do a doughnut and you had to grab the wheel before he sent the pair of you into a wall and wrecked the car.

Finally, you found yourself doing something more normal with a ‘Mr and Mrs’ challenge which you and Seb aced for the breakfast show and filmed a silly PR video for Aston Martin that involved the pair of you in a complex game of Miami themed charades.  Whilst you were still in your race suit you were also sent off to go and film quiz sections for the F1 channel about American sports teams, in which you did horrifically before you were released for a short lunch break.

Then you were collected by Katie and it was time for the studios.  You were handed a pressed polo shirt and a pair of white jeans to change into and then you were forced into hair and makeup chairs.  The breakfast show was first and they were interviewing you and Seb as a pair.  You were glad it was first because Seb’s offhanded comment about just how much longer you were being kept in hair and makeup than him had you in and out much quicker in your following solo sessions.

The interview with Seb was fairly easy, very much in familiar territory and the pair of you were asked fairly standard questions that you’d answered a hundred times before.  The solo interviews you did for the late-night shows were also fine, but they weren’t fun and they weren’t really about the race.  You answered the repetitive set of questions about what it’s like being a woman in a male-dominated sport, and how is it different for you, and who’s the most attractive driver, and have you ever done x, y or z and so on.  You stayed polite, said your scripted jokes and gave political non-answers to most questions.  For a final ‘game’ you found yourself identifying the driver based on their shirtless torsos, in which you deliberately answered even the obvious ones wrong to make a point that you didn’t look for one and that it didn’t matter for another.  You did recognise Carlos instantly, but that didn’t need to be mentioned.

You barely had time to recover before you were being changed into a green dress, your hair curled and even more makeup applied before you were sent out to meet Seb, who looked equally uncomfortable in his white suit for the sponsor dinner. 

The sponsors were several big American investors who wanted to know exactly what their money was getting.  Seb and Mike did a great job of talking technical, and as much as you tried your best to interject with your own analysis of the car’s performance and where you could use the money to improve, by the fourth time you were called sweetheart you resigned yourself to flirting with rich old men, flashing them your best doe eyes and discussing things like marketing and colour schemes and how you really thought you might win the championship this year with the support of all the team.  If you weren’t getting progressively drunk on free wine, and if your career didn’t depend on your behaviour, you would have told them exactly where they could shove their ‘sweethearts’.

It was a stuffy Michelin star restaurant, the kind that you thought only really existed in movies, with tiny plates of food that was far too fancy to actually be enjoyable and a terrible piano ambience.  You found your mind wandering off mid-meal, prodding what you had been told was ‘escargot’ with your fork and thinking that the food Carlos had ordered in that tiny Italian place was so much better.  Seb didn’t seem to enjoy the food much either, and by the end of the night the pair of you were trying to contain yourselves from giving away the fact you were playing a silent game of ‘Boomer Bingo’.  So far Seb was winning, but only because he kept repeating global warming and they kept calling it a myth.

By the time you’d managed two dessert courses, a cheese course and two rounds of coffee you were uncomfortably full and exhausted.  You virtually collapsed into the back of the car taking you back to the hotel with Katie, not listening to a word of the glowing praise she was giving you for how well you performed and how much the sponsors loved you.  She said goodbye to you in the hotel lobby and the second she was out of sight you ripped off the heels you’d been in and padded barefoot to the elevators.  Carlos had texted you an hour ago to see if you were done and wanted a nightcap, but you were so full of obscenely fancy food and heavy wine that you couldn’t face anything else.  It was nearing midnight, and he hadn’t replied to your complaint written from the ladies' bathroom, so you figured he’d gone to sleep waiting for you to get back to him. 

The next morning’s breakfast was equally chaotic.  The hotel restaurant was full to bursting point with seemingly everyone staying there trying to cram in a meal at the same time.  You tried to spot Carlos in the crowd to see if you could catch his eye and non-verbally apologise for missing him last night, but in the sea of team colours you couldn’t single him out.  You ended up grabbing whatever you could reach first from the buffet and quickly retreating to your room, the wine-induced headache and early morning combination not setting you up for socialising with a select few people, let alone half of Miami. 

The saving grace of the day was that it was much more relaxed.  You were on driver press conferences which was much more familiar territory, although you hated how suddenly you were checking any panel for a Ferrari name.  You had Charles in one of them, which was nice but he wasn’t Carlos, who you didn’t see for the entire day.  You spent your down hours hiding out in the back of Aston Martin, downing water and going over statistics with your team.

The closer you got to the opening ceremony the more your stomach was starting to knot about it.  You were once again put into a team polo and had your hair perfectly positioned under your driver cap.  You stood with Sebastian and Mike to complete the green trio in the lineup backstage.  Just in front of you were Lando and the McLaren team, he looked as nervous as you were, staring off into space and not reacting to anything around him. 

You could hear the crowd roaring ahead of you, the presenters warming them up which seemed to be an easy job judging by the raucous noise.  The teams were called up one by one and you could feel your heart thudding in your ears as you reached the bottom of the stairs to the stage.  You couldn't hear your name being announced over the roar of the crowd, instead, relying on the stage hand who was signalling you to make your way up with Seb and Mike behind you.  You took a shaky breath and stepped forward into the bright artificial lights.  You couldn't see the crowd initially, but the wall of noise that hit you was staggering.  It took everything in you to remember to pull your best smile onto your face and lift your arm high in the air with a confident wave as you strode across the stage to take your place beside Lando, who looked positively sick.  Sebastian joined you and you could see in the look he gave you that he too was taken aback by the noise. 

It was so loud you could barely hear the presenters or the other drivers but you got the gist of what was going on.  They were working down the line of teams, introducing you again and then opening up to questions.  From what you could gather the questions were not only coming from Press as you were used to, but it seemed to be open to the VIP ticket holders circle.  This is going to be fun, you thought to yourself - because there was a reason you always avoided fan questions.

"And now, from Astin Martin, it's the green machines, in the fight for her first championship Y/N Y/L/N and four-time world champion legend Sebastian Vettel!"  You waved again, a huge smile on your face that was almost genuine because, despite the near consistent sea of red, black and orange caps, the roar was equally loud for your team as it had been for the top names.  You were struggling to see what was going on, but the loud echo of a poor quality mic and your name was enough to let you know that your question time had started. 

“How do you manage your hair in the helmet?”  You couldn't help the slightly shocked laugh, but if you were being honest it was a pretty tame question and you didn’t mind answering it. 

“It's not really a problem.  I just tie it back low and then my baklava covers it the same as anyone else,”  you didn't have time to breathe before someone else was shouting at you. 

“As the only woman on the grid this year, how do you manage your workout routine to keep up with the other drivers?”  That was a sore spot, you’d had plenty of comments, especially in the early days, blaming your ‘smaller’ muscle mass on the reason you weren’t scoring points as regularly as the world sodding champion. 

“I don't think it's any different to anyone else.  I have a dietician and my personal trainer too, and we work hard to make sure I'm as fit and healthy as I can be.  As you can see in my performance, I’m having no problems handling the car and that’s all that matters,”  you decided to jokingly flex your bicep as if to prove your point, and partly to try and dissipate some of the nervous energy building within you. 

“Hey, Y/N, has your relationship with Carlos Sainz changed following the crash in Imola?  Did you apologise?”  You swallowed hard, feeling a blush threatening to creep its way up your neck.  You hoped it could be blamed on the heat as you took a steadying breath to prepare your answer. 

“Carlos has been a good friend since my rookie year.  I think it was pretty clear the incident last weekend was my fault, and I apologised instantly.  You know, these things happen in racing and I like to think he's not holding it against me,”  you leaned forward to glance down the rows to where the Ferrari team were stood, separated from you by the Red Bulls.  You were looking for Carlos, in truth to see if your answer had been good enough for him.  You weren't exactly about to announce he'd sat in your room for hours that night and taken you on a date the next day. 

“I forgave her,”  he added with his signature grin and a wink, which made the entire audience erupt into screams that took a minute to settle for the next question.  You were asked a little about your friendship with Seb and some slightly more relevant questions, which you didn't mind quite so much, and you were just starting to settle into a rapport with the crowd. 

“Y/N, how do you balance your love life and racing?”  Apparently admitting you were starting to enjoy yourself was a mistake. 

“Is that a question you'd ask any of the other drivers here or just me because I'm a woman?”  You shot back, unable to keep the bite out of your tone.  You weren't going to speak further on the topic but you felt Mike dig subtly into your back and you knew you had no choice.  Pleasing the crowd in Miami had to come first.  “Right now I'm focused on my racing.  I'm in a strong position for this season and I'm pushing for those wins.  I-”  you were cut off by someone without a mic, who shouted very loudly. 

“Ay, Mamí, you single!?”

You didn't even have time to process what happened because Carlos had picked up his microphone again.  He said something pretty short, in what must have been Spanish because you had no idea what he said but his tone was deadly serious.  About half the crowd started to respond with an uncomfortable laugh, but then the presenter was stepping in and the interviews were being moved on to the McLarens beside you. 

You were lost for the rest of the ceremony, unable to understand the quick encounter that had so abruptly ended your time.  And after another hour of smiling and waving through confetti and fireworks and throwing your merch into the crowd you were relieved to be finally shepherded off the stage as a DJ began a set and it was flooded with celebrities.  After getting the all-clear from Mike that there were no further expectations from you, you managed to slip back away from the stage.  You were headed to the Aston Martin hospitality zone, hoping that you could sit quietly in catering and have a minute to gather yourself.  What you hadn't noticed was someone had followed you in. 

Carlos made you jump when he grabbed your arm and span you around to face him, perhaps a little harder than necessary.  His eyes were positively blazing and his jaw was set firm. 

“Are you okay?”  You managed to extract yourself from his grip, more than a little bewildered. 

“What? Yeah, I’m fine,”  you tossed him a bottle of water from the fridge and grabbed yourself one.  Carlos caught it with ease but didn't move to open it. 

“That guy.  Those questions,”  you shrugged, yes it had been bad, but you’d faced worse.  He should hear some of the things the Netflix team asked you for Drive to Survive. 

“It's fine.  I get asked shit like that all the time, I should have known it'd be worse in Miami.  I normally avoid tabloid looking people is all.  And that guy was just heckling-”

“He called you Mamí,”

“And?  I'm called Maneater most of the time,”  Carlos sighed and dragged a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated.  For the first time in your career, you thought that maybe Maneater wasn’t as funny of a nickname as you’d always believed.

“It means sexy.  It's- you don't say it like that.  You can call it to someone in sex or when you know her very well,”  the penny finally dropped for you.  It wasn't just a gross comment, you'd been properly catcalled on live television in front of how many millions of people.  Your mind was racing, the tremble returning to your hands as you struggled to process the new information.

“What did you say to him?”  Your voice was small.  Any humour you'd managed to find in the opening ceremony was completely gone. 

“Show some respect,”  you nodded, a silent thanks on your lips.  You felt oddly empty over the whole thing.  You were shocked, but you weren’t angry, you didn’t want to cry.  You were just done.  The thought of going back to the ceremony or even sticking around in the paddock for a minute longer made you nauseous.

“I’m getting a headache,”  it wasn't entirely a lie,  “ I think I'm just gonna head back to the hotel and have an early night,"  Carlos nodded in response, he didn’t offer or even push to go back with you.  You weren’t sure if you were grateful or not.  You put a hand on his shoulder for a second to let him know you weren't angry with him.  Then left him in his bright red shirt surrounded by the dark green livery of Aston Martin. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Four

Check out my Masterlist here!

The moral of this story is don't ask me for when something is being published because I will give you a very honest answer and then do the exact opposite. Always

Anyway since I started part one I realised I wanted to make this into a proper story so I do apologise that this chapter is a lot more dedicated to building Y/N up and setting the scene. But we're starting to build up to the good stuff now!

As per usual full disclaimers are in the masterlist but its FICTION. I don't know Carlos, I'm only expanding on and taking inspiration from what I see in his content. And for all F1 content it is INSPIRATION not ACCURACY. This would be boring af if it was just a blow by blow account of every race weekend

Other than that not much else to say. Hope you guys enjoyed reading this one because it's been my fave chapter to write so far with all the stuff going on!!

Rage and Love

Le Gremlin &lt;3

Forever Tags: @graysonmalfoy @inumorph @lokilvrr @bookgirlunicorn @thinkwriteexpress @somanydifferentthings @faeriedelalune-blog @elthanin-sive-blog-blog @ispendmoretimehere-blog @drakesfiance @allonesharingonebreath @storm-howlett @daneel-the-sister-of-castiel @groovy-lady @skadivalholl @govazz @its-astrotea-love

Carlos/F1 Tags: @imreallylosingit @serialkillertbh @sticksdoesart @lovingroscoee @agentsoybean @piceous21 @whosays75 @xscorpioxmoon @miahelen @j-brielmalfoy @honeybadger03 @teapartydreams @guccicloudz @nochillnel @timetoracewrites @rmaddens @ruledchaos @imreallylosingit @isabellabrodar @ccloaned @ihearttheoriginals

[sof-writes]

secrets ; choi jisu

content warning: nsfw! profanity, alcohol use, smut, fingering, grinding, cheating (no aftermath though so not necessarily angsty), needy and slightly desperate homewrecker!lia vibes lmao

word count: 2935

a/n: shin yuna I’d never cheat on you!!! pinky promise!!! I can just kinda see her being a jealous gf? as the ending indicates, this might get a (little spicier) part 2 if you all like it! maybe jisu is into some stuff :))) I didn't proofread this bc I'm in a bit of a hurry, but I hope it came out okay.

You had a beautiful girlfriend. Incredibly elegant, charming and funny with a body to die for: she had it all. But above all, she was jealous. So damn jealous.

Tonight was no different. When you told her you were invited to a party, she had immediately started acting up again.

[yuna ♡ at 22:04] well, if it’s that important, do it. go to that fucking party of yours.

That’s what her last text read. You received it around six hours ago and while you sent her a dozen of messages promising her she wouldn’t have to worry, even telling her you could leave early to come by her apartment and say hi, she ignored all of them.

Yet you were on your way to her place. You were kinda shitfaced and your legs seemed to drag you there, so you just gave in. If this would only make things worse, then that’d be something sober you had to deal with tomorrow.

You passed the apartment buildings, they all look similar. Yet, you had no trouble finding hers even in the state you were in. It was like muscle memory.

Standing in front of the building you contemplated ringing the bell, but that’d probably wake up her flatmate, who was way less of a deep sleeper than your girlfriend. So instead, you invited yourself in. 6849. A slight buzz could be heard after you pressed the code on the touch screen, indicating that the door was now unlocked.

You tried to sober up during your elevator ride to the 16th floor, but after checking yourself out in the mirrored elevator wall, you quickly realised you were hopeless. A deep sigh escaped your mouth as the doors slid open and you made your way to the first and only door on the right side of the hallway.

You knocked thrice, just out of a habit, but you obviously didn’t get a reaction. It was well after 4PM after all. So you swiftly moved the back of your hand over the touchpad that was connected to the door handle, causing it to light up right away. 0721. Her flatmate’s, whose parents were the owner of the rather expensive apartment, birthday.

You expected your eyes to be met by a pitch black hall, but much to your surprise the lights were still on. You kicked off your heels and left them in the designated shoe-area. What a relief.

“Hello?” a familiar voice, barely over a whisper, broke the silence. “Jisu, it’s me” you replied, not wanting to scare her at this hour of the day. You shuffled towards the living area, where your eyes found Jisu peeking from behind the balcony door.

“You came to talk things out? At this hour of the day? Wow… That’s… A terrible idea, you know?” she chuckled, still keeping her voice low. You just shrugged. Deep down inside you kinda knew it was, but you just couldn’t care less right now.

She opened the balcony door a little further in order to invite you to join her there. As you got closer you noticed two bottles of wine, of which one empty, as well as an empty glass standing on the balcony table. Jisu was holding a glass similar to the one on the table. It made her look somewhat elegant, despite being dressed in oversized black Adidas joggers and a white cropped t-shirt that exposed her slim waistline.

“Seems like your liver worked hard” you remarked dryly as you closed the balcony door behind you. You flopped down on the chair opposite to the one Jisu was sitting in.

She chuckled lightly “Judging by the look on your face, it doesn’t seem like my liver was the only one with a hard night” she took another sip of her wine “Plus Yuna was responsible for most of this” she added, vaguely motioning her hand over the messy table “But she made it seem like you were the one to blame for her sudden alcoholic behaviour. I just sat here listening to her ranting all night, at least have some empathy instead of calling me out on my alcohol consumption”

You didn’t know whether you should scoff or laugh. You knew your girlfriend, so you immediately believed her roommate’s words.

“Want some?” Jisu said, a little more cheerful as she held up the green bottle “It’d be a shame to throw it out”

You nodded, putting your fingers on the base of the glass in front of you and shoving it in her direction so she could pour the wine more easily. Yuna’s lipstick stains still visible on the brim of the glass. Using your index finger and thumb, you tried to remove the stains from the glass, causing Jisu to scoff.

“Oh come on” she said, dragging the words out in an annoyed way “It’s not like you haven’t tasted her before” her eyes shot up to look at you, hands steady as she slowly filled your glass with white wine. “And judging by the sounds coming from the bathroom every now and then, that isn’t the only set of lips she let you taste” it came out casually, but there was a slight hint of playfulness in her voice. Almost as if she was teasing you.

“What the– Jisu” you shook your head after her sudden remark. Not knowing how to behave or where to look, you took a big sip of your wine. You weren’t a big fan of Chardonnay, but the fact that you were already intoxicated made it bearable.

“What? Apparently you’re quite good with your mouth, nothing to be ashamed of” if you wouldn’t have swallowed your wine immediately, you would’ve definitely had chocked. What the hell had gotten into Choi Jisu.

You directed your eyes back at her, which turned out to be the worst idea since… Since deciding to come here in the first place. She was staring at you intensely, slightly raising her left eyebrow. Delicate fingers pushed her wine glass a little more towards you, giving her space to lean forward a bit. The movement causing her cleavage to become visible.

While not necessarily your type, Choi Jisu was undeniably attractive. You had to think straight though, because as far as you were concerned that’s what Jisu was too, straight.

“I guess” you replied, mouth feeling dry all of a sudden. You shifted in your seat as you felt Jisu’s leg brushing yours, her gaze still fixed on you.

“Don’t you get tired of her jealous behaviour? Why are you two still together anyway? Is the sex that good?” a sudden stab at Yuna. Jisu once again proving that there was a clear line between friends and flatmates. You kinda wanted to get mad, but truthfully, it was tiring.

Her words hung in the air for a bit, causing the atmosphere to tense up. Some questions are better unanswered, this was definitely one of them.

Jisu got up from her chair, her waistline fully exposed as soon as she straightened her back. She never broke the intense eye contact. Slowly but confidently she got closer to you, until she was standing right in front of your chair.

"You know why Yuna always tells me everything instead of her friends?" her voice was barely over a whisper again as she placed her hands on both of the armrests of your chair, leaning forward until your faces were just centimeters apart "I'm really good at keeping secrets"

The word 'intoxication' just got a whole new meaning. You weren't just tipsy. You were drunk on Choi Jisu. The dark look in her eyes, the smell of coconut shampoo filling the air every time she moved, her low voice... But most of all, the thrill of it all.

Deep inside you knew that you should push her away and leave, but you simply couldn't. It was as if you were under a spell. Dizzy from holding your breath.

Just when you were about to give in to the temptation she moved her head, perfectly aligning her lips with your left ear.

"Please fuck me" lips grazing your sensitive ear with each syllable she whispered. It was so insanely messed up how much these three words aroused you.

You wanted to crash your lips together, but Jisu didn't give you the chance to. Instead, she retracted her face and straightened her back again. It threw you off a little, but when she quietly opened the balcony door to make her way inside, you quickly realised what she was up to.

You just followed, as if possessed. Not a single second was spent thinking about your own girlfriend sleeping on the other end of the hallway. Your eyes fixed on her hips that were moving in such an hypnotising manner it could make you drool on the spot.

As soon as Jisu locked the door to her rather spacious bedroom behind the two of you, you wrapped your hands around her bare waist. Her skin felt cold due to the chilly midnight breeze, but the moment itself felt electric.

Slender fingers in your neck as lips finally touched. It was urgent, feverish, but most of all, breathtaking. Jisu's lips were awfully soft and soon, you felt her tongue over your bottom lip, asking for permission.

The kiss deepened, tongues messily fighting for dominance as she lightly scratched her nails over the back of your neck. Neither of you thinking about what the possible consequences of scratches could be.

You tightened the grip on her waist. Lips never leaving hers, sucking, biting, tugging. Her fingers had already found the zipper of your party dress, the clumsy attempt to zip it down with shaking hands making you smile into the kiss.

"So impatient" you breathed out, finally breaking the kiss as your hands made their way up under her crop top.

"Yes, I'm so, so fucking impatient" she confirmed shamelessly, her voice filled with need as she pushed your hands away to take care of the undressing part herself. Crop top quickly discarded and messily thrown on the floor just to be joined by her simple, white bra soon after.

For a moment you just stood there in awe, but then you quickly got to work as well, reaching behind your back to unzip your dress, letting it slip to the floor.

Your eyes remained fixed on Jisu's body while you removed your bra. Her Adidas joggers and black panties sliding down smooth legs in one fluid move. The sight of her cleanly shaven, deliciously pink pussy and slightly glistening lips made your mouth feel dry.

With an equally shift movement you discarded your own panties, finally freeing yourself from the uncomfortable wetness that had formed around the crotch of it.

Jisu wasted no time pushing you towards the kingsize bed, forcing you to sit down when the insides of your knees hit the edge of the soft mattress. Your hands grabbing her hips for support, pulling her on top of you, one of her knees positioned between yours and the other one just next to your right hip.

You felt her hands on your shoulders, eyes looking straight into yours as she lowered herself. Then, finally, contact. With only one simple movement back and forth, your thigh was covered in her undoubtedly delicious wetness.

“Fuck” she breathed shakily, speeding up her movements as her head fell back.

You tightened your grip, pushing her against yourself harder, guiding her. She looked so sexy getting herself off like this, long neck exposed for you to attack.

You leaned forward, attaching your lips to the skin right above her collarbone. It tasted slightly salty, but made her moan oh so prettily. You sucked, bit and licked while she kept on grinding as if her life depended on it.

“Don’t–“ she moaned, trying to keep her voice down “No marks”

You just hummed in response, the vibration against her skin making her shiver.

Feeling how this obviously did things to her, you let your right hand leave her hip and traced it up towards her left breast. Her nipples already hard from the arousal. It turned out her breast perfectly fit the palm of your hand, making it easy for you to knead the soft flesh, applying varying amounts of pressure to see how much of a reaction you could get out of her until you finally found a sweet spot.

An inconsistent stream of the most erotic moans you had ever heard coming from her mouth as she sped up her movements. The amount of juices that now coated your thigh almost inhumane, as if Choi Jisu hadn’t been touched in months.

“Jisu” you whispered, her name almost coming out as a moan due to your own desperation “Fuck Jisu, cum for me”

A frown formed in her forehead from how tightly she was shutting her eyes. There was no doubt she was incredibly close to her release.

You took her hard nipple between your thumb and index finger, playing with it it ever so lightly. That was it, her breaking point. One of her hands shot up to her mouth just in time and she let out a long, muffled moan.

You placed your hand on her hip again, forcing her to continue her movements, dragging out her orgasm for as long as she could take. She whined, desperately trying to lift her hips as her lips looked for yours again.

“Fuck me” she moaned into your mouth “Fuck–” her breath was ragged “Fuck me” she kept on grinding while she repeated it like a mantra, 5 times, 6 times, 7 times, each time sounding a little more desperate than the previous.

You loosened your grip on her hips before pushing her down on the bed, giving her time to recover and to get into a more comfortable position and soon, you were hovering in top of her. Taking in the beautiful sight of her swollen lips, chest heaving and the slightly pink trail that was visible on the pale skin of her neck.

You leaned on one arm, navigating your free hand to her thighs, softly scratching the insides of them. It made her squirm, even after she had her first release, she was still desperate.

“Fuck me” she whined again, voice a little louder this time, begging for your touch.

You covered her mound with your hand, dragging your middle finger between her wet, swollen lips with ease, just to end up with your finger drawing slow circles on her clit.

Her body jerked at the touch, but it was a different feeling she was craving for. “Fill my wet pussy with your fingers” her head was moving around on the sheets like she didn’t know what to do with herself anymore.

Looking at her struggle, you decided to give in, aligning two fingers with her entrance and slowly pushing them inside. It felt warm, quite tight and very wet. Her walls wrapped around your fingers perfectly as you started moving them. In and out, over and over again, curling them in search for the spot that drove her crazy.

“Don’t stop” she moaned, as if that was something you would even consider at that moment. The squelching wetness mixed with Jisu’s sounds had something vulgar to it, but you couldn’t get enough. Her juices were dripping down your fingers as you sped up your movements.

The look on her face screamed ‘sex’, her mouth hung open and every now and then she covered her mouth in order to keep her volume to a minimum. Oh how you wish you could hear her screaming, moaning and begging for more.

When you curled your fingers once more, finding her soft patch, her eyes shot open. She looked straight at you. Intensely. You took this as a sign to keep going, fingers deep inside of her as you kept hitting her spot just right.

Tears formed in the corners of her eyes. She didn’t blink, not even once. Jisu balled her fist, brought it up to her mouth and bit down on it, hard. There is no way to describe the sounds that came out of her mouth. They drove you insane. You wanted to hear her more.

Your hand started to cramp right at the moment her legs started shaking for the second time that night, more uncontrollably now. Her walls tightened around your fingers like they’d never ever let you go.

You could see her teeth sinking further into the skin of her hand as she came undone. Her moans probably exceeding the unspoken volume limit. Pussy endlessly convulsing around your fingers, making it seem like her orgasm would never end.

“So good” she breathless moaned past her fist that was marked by her full set of teeth “So damn good”

Her hot walls slowly but surely relaxed, making it possible for you to take your fingers out of her warm cunt.

You just sighed as you laid down on your back, right next to her. Only now you could feel the pain in your shoulder from leaning on one arm while you were fucking her, but it was so worth it.

After somewhat catching her breath, Jisu broke the silence that hung in the air. “So that’s what Yuna’s getting, huh? Kinda… Safe, but so– so damn good” she breathed, putting a rather strange emphasis on the word ‘safe’ before continuing “Next time the two of you fight, I could introduce you to some new things”

And that’s when it finally hit you. Right, Yuna. Your girlfriend... Shin Yuna.

[duuhrayliegh]

dm slide

pairing: sebastian stan x reader

warnings: alcohol consumption, language, nothing else really, it’s just really fluffy i think

word count: 1905

a/n: okay so my other stuff is coming, i stg, i’m just in the middle of finals and moving out of my dorm, and starting a new job, so i’m a bit stressy right now, but i’m getting there loves.

so if this one isn’t as good as it could be that’s why, but i’m hoping to add on to it later

p.s.: my requests and tag lists are open!!

xoxo ray

ray’s m.list

You were currently at your best friend’s birthday party, polishing off your third overfull glass of wine. Your best friend threw her hands above her head, shouting out “Shots on me!” She thrusted a shot glass in your hand, encouraging you to toss back the liquid. You set down your wine glass, picking up the smaller cup, not caring about the flashing cameras around you.

“I’m so glad you were able to get free from your oh so lavish lifestyle as a celebrity to come hang out with little ‘ol me!” She had to continue to shout for you to hear her over the loud music blasting through the club speakers. She grabbed your arm, pulling you towards the bathrooms. “Are you getting ready to go? The sound system is giving me a headache.” You smiled at her, grabbing your phone from your clutch.

“Absolutely, babes. Let me order the Uber and then we can go.” You held onto your phone tighter, walking up to the bar to settle your tab. “Hey, Gabe!” Gabe, one of the bartenders, turned to you.

“Hey, Y/N!” He went to grab a bottle of your favorite wine to uncork it, but stopped when you held your hand up.

“Just settling up and heading out.” You passed your black AmEx card over the counter to his waiting hand.

“You’re missin’ out, Y/N. The party is just getting started here.” You shook your head at the man.

“Nah, I’m celebrating my best friend’s birthday tonight, so this is her call.” He slid your card back to you, watching you push it into the slots of your clutch. “We’re getting outta here, but that doesn’t mean our party is ending.” You winked at him, meeting up with your companion. You linked arms with her, leading the way through the crowd. It was cold outside, which didn’t mean good things for you because of your almost too short dress. The Uber stopped beside the curb, rolling their window down for you to double check. You climbed in beside your friend, scooting closer to increase your warmth. The ride to your apartment wasn’t too long, thankfully because Uber’s creeped you out, no matter how safe you were.

Walking into your apartment was difficult to say the least. You both were stumbling the entire way to the elevator and then stumbling into your couch cushions. The two of you managed to make it to your bedroom, swapping out your tight garments for some more ill fitting attire. That was not before you took an absurd amount of photos together in your bathroom mirror. You sat across from each other on the black couch in your apartment, sifting through the pictures of the two of you. Your best friend was leaned over your shoulder, watching as you scrolled through.

“Oo! That one!” She pointed at the screen quickly, stopping your scrolling. It was of you holding the phone, leaning backward staring at the phone in your hand. Your best friend was facing you, her bare back displayed from the deep dip in the back of her dress. “We look so hot.” You both shared a look and then burst into a fit of laughter. You posted the picture to your Instagram, tagging your best friend in the corner, wishing her a happy birthday. She slid away from your, covering her lower half with a blanket.

“You want a water?” You asked as you rose from your spot on the couch. She smiled big at you.

“Can I convince you to mix up some margaritas?” Her bottom lip rolled inwards, waiting for  your response. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head before opening your liquor cabinet. You pulled down bottles of triple sec and tequila, reaching into your freezer for the bag of strawberries and limeade. You brought your Ninja Bullet out to make individual margaritas for both you and your drunk friend. Walking back over to her with containers in hand, you plopped opposite her on the couch.

“You’re literally the bestest ever.” She slurped on the drink through her swirly straw. The conversation faded between the two of you, allowing the both of you to go through your socials. “Did you see that Lizzo got a message back from Chris Evans the other day?” You laughed at her question, remembering your reaction to Lizzo’s TikTok.

“Mhm. Can you imagine getting a reply back from one of those hunks of men?” She shook her head while guzzling her margarita.

“I can’t, but I bet you can.” You scrunch your brows at her and she groaned. “You’re a celebrity too, dumbass. Girl, the amount of times that I’ve gotta remind you of that is insane.” You laughed at her, rolling your eyes.

“Babes, just because I’m quote, unquote famous, doesn’t mean that I’m on their level.” She pointed a finger at you.

“Hey, just shoot your shot, Y/N.”

“I literally don’t even know which one I would DM.” Your best friend scoffed loudly.

“Bullshit!” You choked at how loud she yelled. “You don’t know who you would DM? I know who you would DM in a fucking heartbeat.” You looked over at her with raised brows and in unison you said. “Sebastian Stan.” “Sebastian Stan.”

“Mm, he is a six foot tall Romanian God.” You shook your head while fake moaning, your friend laughing in the background. She reached for your phone before you could protest, typing away on your keyboard, smiling mischievously. She thrust the phone back into your hands, the empty DM screen of imsebastianstan on Instagram staring back at you.

“All you gotta do is send something.” She smiled at you while you glanced down at your phone screen nervously. You began typing something quickly then locked the screen, placing it facing downward on your lap, a giggly smile resting on your face. She scooted closer to you, folding her legs up to her chin. “Wait! What did you say?” You unlocked your phone, showing her the screen. She laughed at your message, drinking the rest of her margarita.

y/n.y/l/n: hi, i’m y/n and you’re the love of my life ;) <3

“That’s so fucking good, oh my God.” She glanced at the clock on your phone. “Oh girl, we’ve gotta go to sleep.” You checked it as well, dropping your head into your hands.

“Mhm, you’re right.” You stood from your spot, holding your hand out to your friend to help her up. “Let’s go to sleep.” You both crashed on your king sized mattress underneath your white fluffy duvet. You were about to drift off to sleep, when your best friend’s voice floated into your ears.

“Do you think he’s gonna reply to you?” Her voice was slurring more and more from the amount she drank and the sleep weighing on her mind. You smiled at her, it was a long shot that he would even see it, much less reply.

“We’ll have to see, babes.” She didn’t reply to you as you both fell off into a dreamless abyss.

********************

The sun streaming into your room woke you up in the morning, light hitting your eyelid just right. You blinked harshly, bringing your hand up to block the glare. A groan escaped your lips, stretching out from your best friends grip. “Fuck me.” You held your head in your hand, groaning about the headache blossoming at the nape of your neck. You left the bed, pulling a sweater over your tank top to catch some warmth. You tucked your phone into the waistband of your shorts. You padded into the kitchen, grabbing your Advil bottle, dumping two pills into your hand. You got a glass of water, settling down on the couch after gulping down the headache medicine.

You opened your phone while basically inhaling your water. Your memories of last night were fuzzy, you drank quite a bit. Did you drink too much? Maybe… but did you regret it at all? Not a second of it. You had the best time hanging out with your best friend. You check your Instagram post, replying to several different comments. A red bubble was pinned over your DM button in the corner. You tilted your head in curiosity, wondering who messaged you now. You swiped over, eyes widening at the new message.

imsebastianstan: Hi, Y/N. I’m Sebastian, thank you for professing your love to me.

The feeling of panic running through your veins didn’t last long, A gigantic smile spread accompanied by a giggle. What the fuck do you do now? Your fingers hesitated over the keyboard, thinking through what you want to say back.

y/n.y/l/n: hello sebastian, what do ya say we  figure out if it’s a match :)

You sent the message before you could chicken out, locking the phone shortly after, shoving it in your waistband. You got up, refilling your glass of water, leaning against your granite countertop, tapping your fingers impatiently. You squealed as you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket.

imsebastianstan: What do you have in mind?

y/n.y/l/n: 917-555-0545 <3

Oh my god, you can’t believe you just did that. Holy shit, what are you thinking? Maybe this will all work out in your favor. You really had nothing to lose but your dignity, right? A disturbance in the peace to the right of your caught your attention.

“Why the hell are you up so early? We drank last night, that’s an excuse to sleep in, you fuck baffoon.” Her hair was tousled on top of her head, shirt hanging off one shoulder. You turned your phone around, thrusting it towards her face.

“There’s been recent developments on the Stan front.” Her brows raised, face becoming shocked.

“Oh. My. God. Are you fucking serious?” She snatched the phone away from your hand quickly to scroll through the messages. “You gave him your number?” She yelled at you as she stretched across the couch, laying her head in your lap. Your phone buzzed in her hands and her eyes widened to unbelievable proportions. “Bitch, you just got a text from an unsaved number.”

“Shut the fuck up.” You looked at the phone in her hands. “I didn’t think he was actually going to text me, I sent it as a joke! What’s it say?”

“How are we going to figure this out?” You both shared a look, shrieking enthusiastically. “Y/N! Sebastian Stan texted you!” She jumped up and down on your couch, pulling you up with her.

“What do I say back?” You held the phone against your chest, staring expectantly at your best friend. She shook her head at you.

“Nuh-uh girl. This is all you.” She held her hands up in surrender. You looked down at your keyboard, the blinking cursor waiting for instructions.

“Okay, okay, how ‘bout, ‘discuss over coffee?’” You looked at your best friend for approval, still standing on your couch. You sent the message after she nodded. A message bubble popped up, three blinking dots inside.

There’s a coffee shop on 8th street,  just outside of Washington State Park.

wanna meet up around three?

I’ll be there, Y/N.

You turned to your best friend, holding the phone to your chest. “Babes.” She raised her brows, waiting. “I have a fucking date with Sebastian Stan!” You both squealed, excited for what would happen on your date.