#the thought of leaving for holidays without you crossed my mind but it felt so so wrong and was no option

[myheartxmyman]

[oaksgrove]

A Life Left Behind

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x ex!Reader, John Price x Reader

Synopsis: When Price accidentally lets it slip at a pub that he has a missus waiting at home, Simon never suspects it could be you. That is, until a snowy Christmas Eve, when fate leads him past a warmly lit window, where the life he could’ve had reveals itself in full, devastating clarity.

Warnings: Heavy angst, themes of regret and break up, bittersweet holiday vibes.

Word Count: 1214

a/n: I’ve had this idea swirling in my head for a while—it’s pure heartbreak with a festive backdrop. English isn’t my first language, and this was witten in a rush, so thank you for your patience and all the support on my writing!

Manchester, UK. october | 9:20PM | 8°C

The vanilla scent of your favorite candle hung in the air, bittersweet against the tension suffocating the room. It reminded Simon of softer nights—of the evenings you spent curled together on the couch, your laughter filling the silence he’d grown so accustomed to before you. The thought was fleeting, a warm ember snuffed out by the cold reality that now stood between you.

You stood by the kitchen counter, arms crossed defensively, your eyes a mix of anger and hurt. Simon loomed near the window, his shoulders hunched as though bracing himself for a blow.

“Say something, Simon,” you demanded, your voice raw with emotion. “Anything.”

He didn’t move at first, his gaze fixed on the street outside. His jaw tightened, the cords of muscle twitching under his skin. “What do you want me to say?” he finally asked, his voice low, restrained—like he was holding back a flood.

You stepped closer, forcing him to meet your gaze. “I want you to tell me this isn’t real. That you don’t mean it when you say it’s better if we break up.”

For a moment, his mask slipped. The conflict in his eyes was like a storm on the horizon—rage, sadness, and guilt all warring beneath the surface. Then he shut it down, closing himself off again. “It is better,” he said, his voice faltering before he hardened it.

“For who, Simon?” Your voice cracked, frustration mingling with the ache in your chest. “Because it sure as hell isn’t for me.”

“For you,” he replied, firmer this time. “You deserve someone who can give you more than this—more than me.”

You could only stare at him, disbelief giving way to anger. “You don’t get to decide that for me! I knew what I was getting into, and I’m here, Simon. I chose you!”

His hand went to the back of his neck, a frustrated gesture you’d seen countless times. “I can’t keep doing this to you,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t see it now, but you’ll be better off without me.”

Your mind flooded with memories—of Simon’s quiet presence grounding you after bad days, of his rare, unguarded moments of laughter that felt like secrets shared just between the two of you. The way he would silently slip your favorite mug into your hands during cold mornings, the weight of his arm around you as you fell asleep.

“Do you even hear yourself?” you whispered, desperation creeping into your voice. “You’re pushing me away because you think it’s what’s best for me? You’re not even giving me a choice.”

His silence was deafening, his eyes locked on the floor like he couldn’t bear to meet your gaze.

“I hope you believe that one day,” you said, grabbing your coat.

Your feet carried you to the door, and your hand hesitated on the knob. You wanted him to call out, to fight for you, to prove that this wasn’t just another wall he was building. But he didn’t.

You glanced back, and for a moment, he looked as though he might break—his fists clenched, his body taut with tension. But then his gaze dropped, and the words that could have saved you both never came.

“Goodbye, Simon.”

The door clicked shut behind you, and the cold October air wrapped around you as you walked away. Your legs moved on autopilot, but your mind stayed trapped in the warmth of the memories you were leaving behind.

The time he stayed up with you after your first fight, awkwardly holding your hand as he whispered, “I’m not good at this, but I’ll try.” The way he watched you with something close to wonder the night you wore his hoodie, laughing at his terrible attempt at making pancakes. The rare nights he let you in—told you stories of his childhood, of the people he lost. The first time he said, “I don’t deserve you,” and you kissed him before he could finish.

The sound of your own footsteps became unbearable, each one taking you further away from a man who couldn’t see that he was already everything you needed.

The Old Wellington - Manchester, UK. 1 year later, august | 9:45PM | 10°C

The pub buzzed with life, the comforting chaos of clinking glasses and laughter filling the air. Simon sat in the corner, detached, his untouched whiskey warming in his hand. His team’s voices faded into the background as his thoughts wandered to the edges of places he’d been avoiding.

Soap’s voice boomed above the noise, mid-story and gesturing wildly. “And then, just as the guy thinks he’s outsmarted us, the bloody fence gives way and—bam! Flat on his arse!”

Gaz burst into laughter, his grin wide. “You’ve got to be making that up.”

Price leaned back in his chair, chuckling. “It’s true. I was there.”

Simon stared into his glass, barely hearing the conversation. Soap nudged him with an elbow. “Oi, Ghost, are you alive in there?”

Simon glanced up, forcing a faint smirk. “Listening to you lot’s more entertaining than talking.”

“Sure it is,” Soap teased, raising his glass.

Price set his drink down, a rare smile tugging at his lips. “I’ve got to go. It’s already late, missus is waiting for me at home.”

Soap nearly choked on his beer. “Wait a minute. You’ve got a missus? Since when?”

Gaz leaned forward, grinning. “Yeah, Cap. You’ve been holding out on us!”

“She likes her privacy,” Price replied with a shrug, a soft edge to his voice. “But yeah, I’ve got a missus.”

Simon’s grip on his glass tightened. The word missus hit him like a shot, sharp and precise, leaving a dull ache in its wake.

“What’s she like?” Soap asked, clearly intrigued.

Price’s expression softened as he thought about her. “She’s… everything, really. Smart, kind, funny. Keeps me on my toes.”

“She sounds like a saint, putting up with you,” Soap teased with a laugh.

Simon’s chest tightened at the word saint. The thought surfaced before he could stop it. My girl was a saint too…

He swallowed hard, his grip on the glass like a lifeline. He pictured you in his mind—your patience, your warmth, the way you’d look at him like he wasn’t the sum of his mistakes. He’d told himself a thousand times that he’d let you go for your own good, but here he was, haunted by memories he couldn’t shake.

“She is,” Price admitted with a rare smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

Simon looked away, draining his whiskey in one gulp. The burn was nothing compared to the hollow ache in his chest.

“You good?” Price asked, his tone casual but his gaze sharp.

Simon straightened, forcing himself to appear calm. “Just remembered something I’ve got to take care of.”

He stood abruptly, tossing some cash on the table. “Catch you later.”

He left before anyone could question him, stepping out into the cold night air. The sharp chill bit at his skin, but it wasn’t enough to distract him.

She was a saint, wasn’t she? The thought lingered, twisting the knife. But he didn’t deserve saints. He never had.

Manchester, UK. 2 years later, december | 9:45PM | 6°C

Christmas had arrived, cloaking the streets of Manchester in a pristine layer of snow. The world felt hushed, the crunch of Simon’s boots against the frozen ground the only sound in the quiet night. His breath puffed in soft clouds, dissolving into the still air.

He hadn’t planned to be here—hadn’t even realized where his aimless wandering had taken him until he found himself on a familiar street. The glow of your living room window caught his eye, and before he could stop himself, he was standing there, looking in.

The scene inside was alive with warmth. Golden light spilled over the living room, illuminating a Christmas tree laden with ornaments. You stood beside it, a delicate bauble in your hand, your laughter bright as it mingled with the joyous chaos of two young boys crawling around the tree.

Simon’s gaze shifted. Price was there, standing close to you, his arm resting comfortably around your waist. The easy intimacy between you spoke volumes—a language Simon once knew but had long forgotten.

His chest tightened, the ache sharp and familiar. He stood frozen, his breath catching as a memory surfaced unbidden: you, sitting beside him on a cold night like this, your hand in his as you talked about the future. A future he’d convinced himself he couldn’t give you.

Now, here it was, vivid and real—but it wasn’t his.

You turned then, your eyes meeting his through the frosted glass. The moment stretched, fragile and heavy with unspoken words. Your expression softened, a bittersweet smile forming as if you understood everything he couldn’t say.

Simon’s gloved hand brushed the glass, the chill biting through the leather. For a fleeting second, he let himself imagine what it would feel like to step inside, to join the warmth instead of watching from the cold.

But he knew better.

He nodded once, a small, almost imperceptible gesture, before stepping back. The snow crunched softly beneath his boots as he turned away, his silhouette fading into the quiet night.

The ache lingered, but as he walked, it shifted—no longer a weight that dragged him down, but something softer, bearable. You were happy. That was enough.

The falling snow blurred his footprints behind him, erasing the path he’d taken to get here. Simon didn’t look back, his lips twitching into a faint smile. For the first time in years, he felt the beginnings of peace. Because some losses, though painful, could eventually feel like victories when love found its way to where it belonged.

[yappingwitch]

The art of winning her back

pairing - James Potter x fem!reader

summary - On his quest to capture the heart of his long-time crush, Lily Evans, James must first win her friend (Y/N) over despite their shared history.

warnings - angst, bullying, friends to enemies to lovers, child neglect and death of a parent (briefly), swearing, slowburn, use of (Y/N)

wordcount - 3k

disclaimer - english is my second language. Don't hesitate to correct me!

part 1

You and James had known each other your entire lives, a friendship somewhat foisted upon you by your parents, whose own friendship dates back to their Hogwarts days. That’s at least how James perceived your relationship: imposed upon him by the suffocating weight of your parents' past.

Sure, James was never outright mean to you. He was still your friend, after all. Though he couldn’t help but ridicule your overenthusiastic nature, with your ramblings and frantic waving of your hands whenever you spoke. Often throwing jabs at you, you none the wiser. He disliked you yet still felt some measure of sympathy for you. A charity case, yes - that was what you were to him, with no other friends to guide you and your parents perpetually away at work, leaving you yearning for connection and always acting as if you couldn't function without continually sticking by his side. So he'd accept his fate with a sigh and take your hand whenever you became frightened by the thunder during one of your countless sleepovers or pretended to battle dark wizards with you using sticks, indulging in whatever you devised next. Of course, you never truly noticed it for what it was. To you, he was the brightest spot in your life, the sweetest friend you could ever wish for.

As the years rolled by, you continued to treasure this friendship, even if it sometimes felt like James was dragging his feet. He was your best and only friend, and in your heart, that was more than enough.

Things first changed when he left for Hogwarts. He was off having extraordinary adventures while you were left behind, grappling with a new void in your life, yearning for his return. You clung to the habit of writing to him, pouring out every random thought that crossed your mind in long letters. His replies were always brief and generic, but you didn’t mind, simply grateful to hear from your best friend.

After probably the longest year of your life, only getting to see James during the holidays, summer break finally ended, marking your first year at Hogwarts and reuniting you with James all year aound. You stood on the train platform with his parents, eyes bright with anticipation. Euphemia pressed a kiss on both your cheeks and pulled you into a hug, his dad quickly joining in as well. The two of you departed on your journey to find an empty carriage, eagerly waving at James’s parents from your seats as soon as the train whistle sounded, announcing the train’s departure. You practically melted into his side during the train ride, linking your arm with his and chatting incessantly, only letting go when you dashed off for the trolley that held piles of candy, babbling to the lady as you did.

Just as you settled back down, your pockets now stuffed with all kinds of sweets, one already grasped in your hand, happily munching on it, the compartment door slid open once more. Three boys stood there, relief seemingly washing over their faces as they quickly greeted James, sitting down across from you both. It was then that their gazes shifted to you, immediately recognizing who you were - James must have complained about you at least once a week, and by your appearance, they may finally have understood why.

The trio couldn’t hold back their giggles at the sight: you, with chocolate smeared on your cheek, bouncing with joy, while James looked like he was stuck in a perpetual state of embarrassment, cheeks flushed. Oblivious to his discomfort (as you often were), you rambled on about how excited you were to begin Hogwarts, speaking at a hundred miles per hour, until all the sugar finally sent you into a deep state of sleep. All of them sighed in relief at the moment of peace, despite your continued grip on James’s poor arm. You only loosened it up once you entered Hogwarts castle, too stunned to speak for once or to notice James quietly slipping away. You just wordlessly joined the other first-years at the front of the school while the rest of the students sat down at their designated houses, chatter filling the room.

You'd sight dramatically whenever a name that wasn't yours was called up, growing more and more anxious by the second, already missing James by your side.

“(Y/N) (L/N)!” Professor McGonagall finally called out, her voice ringing through the hall. Finally. You skipped up to the stool, your heart thudding in your chest as McGonagall lowered the hat, blocking part of your vision with its size. You didn’t care, though, only trying to focus on the hat’s words.

“Gryffindor!” exclaimed its gruff voice, your face immediately breaking into the biggest grin - not only because you had made it into the house of bravery but because you were in the same house as James. The Gryffindor table erupted in a roar of applause, customary for new housemates, but one disgruntled figure groaned loudly instead, covering his face in exasperation.

As you approached the table, your voice rang out bright and cheerful. “James! I can’t believe you didn’t save me a seat!” You pouted, but then your expression brightened as you realized he had no clue you’d end up in Gryffindor either, immediately excusing him in your mind. “I can’t wait to tell Dad about this! He’ll be thrilled. Everyone thought I’d end up in Hufflepuff - way to prove them wrong! Not that there’s anything wrong with Hufflepuff, but I always wished for Gryffindor… hm… or maybe Ravenclaw! That'd really show—”

“You’re rambling again,” he interrupted your whirlwind of excitement.

“You’re right! You’re always right! You better save me a seat next time. Although I don't really mind too much; I passed this really nice group of girls on my way to you. I can't wait to make some new friends!” You began pointing somewhere. “Did you see the redheaded girl? I think she's from your year; she's so pretty—”

“Alright…” James said, interrupting your rambling once again, sending a small glare to the black haired boy sitting across from, hearing him cover up a choked laughter with a caugh.

You, none the wiser, flashed him a beaming smile before scampering off to join the girls at the very top of the table, blissfully unaware that this would mark the second real shift in your friendship with James.

It all began with pranks - silly, harmless little acts that felt like a natural progression of your friendship - joint efforts with his new friends. You never minded this side of him because it was how James expressed his affection, so you thought. Whether it was hexing your hair a wild shade of purple or causing you to trip on your way to class, there was always laughter shared between you, and you felt like you were starting to bond not just with James again, but with his friend group. Sometimes James would show remorse afterward a particular nasty prank, mainly when he got caught, and would often beg you to bail him out of detention with McGonagall, and you always obliged.

But as time went on, a growing irritation began to simmer within you. You would never dare admit it, feeling guilt whenever a mean thought flashed through your mind after another prank. After all, James was your best friend.

Once winter break rolled around, you felt nervous for the first time around him, having barely spent one-on-one time together since the day of the sorting. Yet, each day spent together melted away all your worries. James was finally all yours again, and after spending every day together, you remained blissfully unaware of the growing tension between you both. With renewed faith in your friendship, you allowed the Marauders to continue their taunts happily for years to come, quietly awaiting the holidays to begin anew, where everything was like before. You could deal with that.

Or so you thought, until a seemingly ordinary Saturday, your third year at the school almost over, excited to spend summer with James, a prank sent everything spiraling out of control. It was no worse than the others. In fact, it was quite the opposite - it was almost uncharacteristically harmless, but it triggered something deep within you, and your patience finally bubbled over. The anger towards James began to seep out of you, much like ink from a quill that has just exploded in your face. Staring back at you were hours of studying made redundant, your notes stained, ink splatters glaring back instead of your carefully constructed sentences. You looked around the abandoned library helplessly, your mind not registering what had just happened until you heard laughter - his laughter.

The other boys with him soom joining in too, echoing throughout the usually quiet room as they emerged from their hiding place. As their laughter continued, you let out a humorless giggle, still not comprehending the situation, which quickly made them stop theirs. They exchanged silent glances before breaking out in even louder laughter and walking off after being chastised by the librarian.

Oh.

Oh.

Your smile faded as the realisation settled in. They weren’t laughing with you.

They were laughing at you.

Without giving it a second thought, you marched back to the Gryffindor tower, stopping by the bathroom in hopes of salvaging some of your materials, not even attempting to save your notes, as they were a lost cause. Everything felt heavy, almost suffocating. The familiar laughter filled your ears once again as you entered the common room. Raising your gaze from the fixated stare you had on your shoes, you looked at the boys lounging without a care in the world. Their amusement was unmistakably still directed at you, especially when they saw your blouse - a massive wet spot adorning the white fabric along the ink, your pathetic attempt at scrubbing the stains away.

Ignoring the feelings threatening to bubble up, you bolted to the girls' dormitory, shutting the door with a thud. Your eyes burned and your cheeks flushed in humiliation. You angrily chucked your bag to the floor, your now-stained possessions scattering. Looking around, you saw the startled faces of the other girls, which made your face flush even more, and you quickly bent down, trembling hands trying to gather your things.

Then you felt gentle hands steady your own. Looking up, you met Lily Evans’ bright green eyes, filled with concern and her brows furrowed together, a frown gracing her lovely face.

After a moment of silence, seemingly contemplating how to approach what had just occurred, she settled on saying, “I was going to ask if everything’s okay, but I guess that’s redunda.” A gentle smile blossomed on her face.

Without a word, you threw your arms around Lily’s neck, your eyes glazing over. Dorcas and Marlene, who were the only ones with Lily currently in the room, also sprang to attention. As you struggled to hold back your emotions, your gaze met the other girls’ stares, and you felt everything spill over. Tears fell without warning - an unexpected release of pent-up frustration, sadness, and hurt.

You let go of Lily, wiping your eyes with fervor. Silence enveloped the room until you finally calmed down, regaining control of your emotions as swiftly as possible while Lily gently rubbed your back. Marlene also sitting down by your side, while dorcas sat up on her bed.

“Alright, who do I have to beat up?” Dorcas declared, her tone playful yet sincere, breaking through the heaviness that loomed in the room.

That pulled a watery laugh from you, especially seeing Marlene reprimand the girl for her violent tendencies, though a smile was evident on her face, secretly having similar thoughts. Lily quietly giggled at the scene alongside you.

So you shared everything about the pranks (or bullying, as Lily later dubbed it), James, and everything that had weighed down on you.

When you finally finished your rambling, all listening patiently, the room grew quiet once more. You dreaded their reactions - why, you didn’t know - but anxiety filled your body.

Then, without warning, they erupted into a burst of chatter, voices blending together in a comforting chorus until Marlene decided to take the lead, shushing the other two.

“Well… you know… that’s horrible of him… but… you know, we were all aware he’s kind of—”

“He’s a twat,” Dorcas chimed in.

“I’m not a fan of profanity, but for lack of a better term…” Lily added, grinning as she looked at you, easing your worries. Sudden realisation flashing in her eyes as she quickly got out her wand, pointing it at you, ridding you of the stains.

Your eyes glazed over once more, but this time not out of the anger you felt earlier, Marlene and Lily quickly engulfing you. Dorcas joined in aswell, after Marlene dragged her from her spot on the bed, laughter engulfing the room.

You always felt a shift would come after starting Hogwarts, a new stage of life, but nothing could have prepared you for the transformation that awaited you as summer rolled around - a summer without your best friend. Your room, once a cozy sanctuary, suddenly felt juvenile, each item reminding you of a bond that had frayed. You grew quieter, noticing the judgmental looks from your parents - expressions that mirrored James'.

Lily's letters provided solace, each note including snippets of her life - from the latest Muggle songs to inviting you over for movie nights. Her letters, and those from the others, brought vibrancy back into your world, replacing the dullness that had seeped into your days. You spent countless hours running around with Marlene and Dorcas in Diagon Alley, laughing at every trinket you discovered, scouring through every store you could find, and enjoying the thrill of new experiences. You were rediscovering joy that had long been absent, even without realizing it.

While you occasionally saw James, considering your parents and the close proximity of your homes, he didn’t seem to mind the shift in your dynamic - if he even noticed a change outside of your lack of clinginess, you weren't sure.

By the time fourth year arrived, the pranks that had once been a staple of your interactions faded entirely - nothing felt more potent than the harsh words Lily had directed at James, her words carrying a weight you didn't fully comprehend, yet appreciated nonetheless. He appeared to almost forget you existed, and you were okay with that.

At the end of fifth year, you suddenly vanished, even though school still continued for another month. A sorrow engulfed your life once more when your mother passed away unexpectedly during ministry business - classified. The loss struck deeply, leaving you grappling with emotions you weren’t sure how to manage. Your relationship with her had always felt strained, but her absence was a stark reminder that you'd never have the relationship with her you dreamed of.

Back home, you found comfort in the Potters’ company, excluding James, leaning on Euphemia and your Hogwarts friends to help you through your grief. Your father, overwhelmed by sorrow, struggled to connect with you, and not even your shared pain brought you closer. Instead, it pushed him further away, so when you received a letter from your grandmother from France inviting you to stay with her during the next two months, you eagerly accepted.

This was the first summer that you wouldn't see James at all, not that you minded. His lost friendship had become an afterthought at this point as you tried to navigate your new life.

James only got a proper look at you again at the start of his seventh year. Everything had shifted once more, but this time it felt different. James was now Quidditch Captain and Prefect, determined to make this year - his last - his best by finally asking Lily out, having realized his crush on her in year five, which she largely dismissed at first, considering his past behavior. But he could see (and he knew she could too) that her feelings toward him were starting to shift, recognizing his attempts at bettering himself. So he was confident in his plan to ask Lily to the upcoming Celestial Ball, believing he had finally won her over. Everything seemed perfectly set - that was until Soren Howell, a year six chaser on the team, sat down across from him with an uncharacteristic frown adorning his face.

“What’s got you all gloomy, pretty boy?” asked sirius, who sat beside James, with a smirk looking at Soren, ripping a piece of half-eaten bread from his plate and throwing it at him.

Soren’s frown only deepened. “I asked (Y/N) to the ball,” Soren announced, frustration clear in his voice. “But she said no - some other guy beat me to it."

Hold up. “(Y/N)?” James repeated. “(Y/N) (L/N)?” A puzzled look crossed his face.

Soren simply nodded, bitterness still evident as he continued to sulk.

A million questions raced through James's mind, but most importantly: When did you return? He had assumed you'd finish your studies at Beauxbatons, not seeing you at yesterdays sorting ceremony. Well, right after—

“Are you taking the piss?” Sirius chimed in, laughing loudly. “You need to raise your standards, mate.”

Soren looked up from his plate, disbelief washing over him. “I like her,”

This made James start to laugh as well. While he generally left much of the juvenile behavior behind, partly for Lily but also genuinely growing as a person, he couldn't believe you had not one, but two people pining after you on the very first day back - especially someone like Soren, who was, as much as it pained James to admit, quite the handsome fellow.

“You like her? What’s there to like? I mean - ow!”

A hand suddenly shoved James hard on the back of the head, pain radiating through his skull, and the tips of his unruly dark hair now tainted with the soup in front of him. He grunted angrily, turning awkwardly in his seat to glare at the perpetrator - Dorcas.

Before he could even utter “detention” - a privilege of his Prefect position - his gaze shifted to the girl beside her, her arm linked with Dorcas’s, an uninterested expression on her pretty face as she muttered something to Dorcas while tugging on the taller girl’s arm. James rendered speechless, not recognising the beautiful girl hanging onto Dorcas. Once his gaze shifted toward her Gryffindor tie, his confusion only grew - Was she new? He'd surely recognise someone like her, especially with Sirius by his side who probably tried to chat up every pretty girl, heck even pretty boy, in their school.

Dorcas raised an eyebrow at his prolonged pause, following his gaze and realizing the cause. She scoffed, tugging the girl closer to her.

This made him rip his gaze from her, turning it back to Dorcas, his anger returning.

“What’s it to you?” “Talk about her again, and I will castrate you,” Dorcas declared quickly.

“Her?”

Dorcas looked at him in confusion, then nodded her head in your direction; you, in turn, started to tug on her arm again, annoyance now evident on your face.

“(Y/N)?” he uttered dumbly, at the same time as another voice called out to you.

The beautiful redhead walked on your other side, linking her arm with yours as well.

“Why don’t you get goi-” she started, but then saw who Dorcas and you were talking to, frowning at James with clear disappointment and a look he hadn’t seen from her since he started his journey to woo her - that of genuine dislike. Lily quickly dragged you both away without a word, turning back to glare at James once more on the way to their seats at the dinner table.

It was then and there that James realized - if he wanted Lily, he needed to win you over once again. This new you who suddenly had the prettiest eyes and air of confidence around her. This new you who now looked at him with hatred.

[jeysbvck]

it always leads to you (in my hometown)

oh hi, im back after almost a year of not posting fics, and of course it's my main man who pulls me back in! this is my first jey uso fic, so pls comment & reblog & let me know what you think!! i tried to make it angsty, to fit the song more, but i guess that's not the direction my brain wanted to go!!

jey uso x afab!reader

smut, 18+, minors dni!!

word count: 2,420

some people i thought might like this (if you don't wanna be tagged, just let me know!): @southerngirl41 @bebesobrielo @harmshake @afterdarkprincess @rollinsland @wrestlezaynia @crxssjae

summary: when you're in town for the holidays, it always ends up with you in jey usos bed for the weekend. this time, it isn't enough, and jey shows you why you can't leave him behind.

You stared out the window, feeling content as you watched the snow fall outside, frost gathering on the glass. You and Jey had spent all weekend in bed, sleeping half the day away and sharing body heat in more ways than one; which is how you spent all the fleeting weekends together. You had so much to do before you left in two days, but you couldn't bring yourself to leave the warm bed, especially when Jey was sleeping beside you, looking like a literal angel.

This had been happening for the last four years and you remembered it all too well; the bewildered, haunted look when Jey locked eyes with you for the first time in years, like he'd seen a ghost. You remembered the ice that ran through every vein in your body when he walked past you without acknowledging you, making you consider whether you were a ghost. You remember lying in your childhood bedroom, old photographs of you and Jey still on your walls, staring down at you, judging you. You knew you'd hurt him when you left, he didn't think your reasons were good enough; but it never crossed your mind that he'd pretend you were a stranger. But as you stared at the posters and photographs on your walls, you realised that you were a stranger now, you didn't recognise the girl in the photographs anymore.

A few days later, you bumped into Jey again, this time you were both alone, walking past the school you used to share, and things seemed different. He opened a dialogue, asked you how you'd been, asked about your life, and before you knew it, you'd been standing in the cold for half an hour. Jey offered you a ride, and you weren't ready for this to end; it felt familiar, but also new. So you accepted and you drove around the small town, commenting on how things hadn't changed. Four hours later, you were in his bed, doing things you had only dreamed about.

You thought it would be a one-off, that maybe the universe was giving you a better goodbye than the first time, a better reunion than the one in the bar. But the next holiday you were in town, he text you, and you ended up in his bed again. Then Jey started surprising you at the airport -sometimes you hadn't even told him what time your flight was- and although he dropped you off at your parents house, it wasn't long before you were spending most of the time with Jey. It was essentially a weekend-long holiday hook up, a way to make you feel less lonely during the holidays and a way to have what could've been -what should've been- if you had just stayed.

Jey stirred in his slumber, retracting his arm that was stretched over you, taking away the warmth and leaving a chill behind, as you pulled the quilt up further, you couldn't help but think of it as a metaphor for how you would feel in a couple of days when you left. You turned your back on the beautiful view outside the window to the -in your totally, unbiased opinion- the more beautiful view next to you. Even after all the years of knowing Jey, he still took your breath away, he still set your heart ablaze. Every time you were here, you took every opportunity to mentally record every detail of him to take back with you. Every new grey hair, every tattoo, every laughter line, every perfect imperfections, you took it all in. You basked in the warmth, the comfort, the happiness that you felt in this bed, knowing it would all be over in a flash.

"Mornin' babe," Jey said, with a sleepy smile, "you're watchin' me sleep, forgot you were a creep."

You hummed in response as you leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his pillow-like lips. "And I forgot you snore." You teased, and Jey scoffed, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck, pulling you in for another kiss.

"Such a liar." He mumbled against your lips and you smiled, pulling away and finding your place on his chest. Your fingertips traced the lines of his intricate tattoo on his chest, as his stroked your back, soothingly.

The time you spent with Jey, in this bed, the room, the house; felt like a different world. Like reality as you know it didn't exist here, it was just you and Jey, and nothing else mattered. You hated leaving, you hated getting on the plane, going back to your life like you hadn't just left the warmest place you'd ever known.

"So..." Jey started, and you knew what was coming. The dreaded question that he asked every time. "How long we got? Until you-"

You cut him off, not wanting the words to be said, as if it somehow wouldn't happen if Jey didn't speak it into the universe. "I know what you mean, Jey." You sighed. "Can't we just stay in this bubble for a little longer?"

"How much longer? Like, you wanna talk later, over dinner? Or how about the mornin' of your flight so we barely get to say goodbye?" He snapped, and you scoffed at the outburst. "Ay, you're the one who-"

"Okay," you cut him off before he finished the sentence, sitting up and throwing your legs over the edge of the bed, grabbing the robe that had been thrown on the floor the night before as you stood up and pulled it over your body. "You really wanna spend the time arguing?"

"No! I jus'-" Jey groaned and turned on his side, his elbow resting on the mattress. "Okay listen, I know our whole thing; no stayin', no waitin', but-"

"No Jey, this works!" You lied. You knew you were trying to convince him more than yourself, because you knew it wasn't working. If it did, leaving him wouldn't break your heart, you wouldn't spend the year counting down to the next holiday. Nobody in your life knew you like Jey. They didn't know which smiles you were faking, or which laughs were genuine. They didn't even know your coffee order, or your favourite film.

"This works for you? This is enough for you?" Jey asked. "Because it isn't for me."

You bit your lips, you'd expected this every time, you knew it would happen eventually. Jey was always going to find someone who could give him more than you could offer.

"What are you saying?" You asked. "You don't-you wanna end this?"

Jey got his knees and shuffled towards you, leaning up and cupping your face with his hands, his eyes level with yours. "I don't wanna end this." He said. "I wanna be with you."

"Jey," you whispered, hoping he could see in your eyes how much love you have for him. "I can't- We can't-"

"Ay, just listen." Jey said. "What if I came wit' you?"

You stared at him, speechless, your face still in his hands. "That's not funny."

"It ain't supposed to be funny."

"Stop it. You can't just say stuff like this, not in here, not like this when we're all caught up in the bubble!" You said, throwing your hands around. "You have your family here, a life here, you're just gonna leave it all behind?!"

"Didn't stop you." Jey retorted, and you rolled your eyes.

"That was different! I didn't pack up my life to follow someone across the country!" He smirked at you, making you roll your eyes a second time.

"Ay, you think highly of yourself, don't ya?" He joked, but you groaned and pulled his hands away from your face, putting your own over your face. "What if I ain't doin' it for you? What if I'm doin' it for me?" He asked. He pulled your hands from your face and held them. "I know you tell me not to, but I wait, babe. I wait for you to call, to text, I ask your parents when you're comin', so I can wait at the airport for you. I don't wanna wait anymore, I wanna be wit' you, for real, and you can't stay."

You bit the inside of your cheek, refusing to let yourself smile, and you turned your back on him, sitting back down on the bed. He was saying all the right things, wearing your favourite smile, and it was hard to be logical right now. This was never an option, because what if he ended up resenting you? Having Jey sporadically in your life through the year was better than the alternative.

Jey ran his hands up and down your arms, planting little kisses on your shoulder and neck. "Jus' think about it, babe." He whispered in your ear as he kissed your neck. "We can have more than jus' weekends." His hands slid over your skin, grazing your breasts as he followed a path down to your stomach, sending shivers through your whole body. "We can do this-" His hand slipped into your underwear, teasing you. "-whenever we want."

You tilted your head back, leaning it against his shoulder as he nibbled your neck, and you hummed, bucking your hips in an attempt to get his fingers exactly where you needed them. He clicked his tongue before he dug his teeth into your neck, a moan escaping your mouth as his fingers teased your entrance.

His hard cock was pressed against your back, and as he played and teased you, you reached around and grabbed his cock. He rutted against your hand, moaning into your neck as you stroked the long length, the action making him push two fingers inside you. They moved inside you, matching the pace of your hand on his cock; when you slowed down, he did, and when you quickened the pace, he did too.

Jey upped the ante, his thumb flicking over your clit, making your hips buck, your grip on his cock tightening, making it twitch. Jey groaned into your shoulder, and when you ran your thumb over his tip, he pulled away from your hand. "Nah, you're gonna make me cum." He mumbled into your shoulder. He kissed your skin again, before pulling his fingers out of your cunt, making you whimper pathetically. You watched as he slipped off the bed and pushed you backwards on the bed before getting on his knees. "Gotta remind you what you'll be missin' if you leave without me." He smirked, burying his head in between your legs.

You moaned loudly as he flattened his tongue against your cunt, slowly licking every part of you. He quickened the pace, and just as you arched your hips, he pinned them against the bed, while pushing two fingers inside you, his tongue flicking and sucking your clit. This was euphoric, you writhed underneath him as he drove you wild. Jey knew exactly what he was doing and his plan was working, you knew that he could ask you for anything right now -doing that thing with his tongue- you'd say yes to anything and everything.

"So wet for me." He muttered against you, nibbling the inside of your thigh as he fucked you with his fingers. All you could do was gasp and moan as he didn't give you a moment to breathe, sucking your clit and fucking you with his tongue. You tried to hold out, to delay your orgasm, but it wasn't long before you let yourself go, bundling the sheets in your hands as your thighs gripped his head.

Jey pulled back and crawled up your body, his thick, hard cock grazing your cunt, making your body twitch. He grinned down at you, his beard glistening with your juices, his dark eyes full of lust and you pulled him down by the chain around his neck for a kiss, your tongues dancing with each other as you ran your hands down his toned back. He rubbed his cock against your cunt, and you bucked your hips against him. "Fuck me, Jey." You managed to gasp, and he grinned at you, his eyes darkening more. He grabbed your wrists with one hand and pinned them above your head, forcing you to maintain eye contact as he pushed his cock inside you, moaning with you as your cunt tightened around him.

Your moans were lost in Jeys mouth as your bodies rocked together, your kisses getting rougher and more passionate. His free hand playing with your breasts, switching between them, refusing to let your hands free. "Such a good girl, takin' my cock like this." He grunted and you threw your head back as he attacked your neck once again. Your orgasm was bubbling up inside you, your legs beginning to shake as he fucked you harder and deeper, his own orgasm imminent. He brought his lips back to yours, the kiss slower, but not less passionate, and when he let go of your hands to grip your hips, you wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss.

"Shit, baby, I'm so close." He groaned, burying his head into the crook of your neck, his thrusts getting harder. You rolled your hips making his cock twitch inside you, and in all the bliss and passion as your orgasm washed over you like a tsunami, three words slipped out of your mouth.

"Come with me." You whispered, nibbling his earlobe. "So close." He repeated, and you grabbed his head, making him look at you.

"No Jey, come with me." You said, and he looked in your eyes, he flashed you that beautiful smile -one that could light up a starless night sky. You nodded, and he kissed you, just as his own orgasm hit, and he thrusted into you a few more times, his moans being caught by your mouth.

He dropped onto you; his body like a welcome weighted blanket, and you wrapped your arms around him as he lay on your chest. "Did ya mean it?" He asked quietly. You ran your fingers through his hair, and thought about what you said. You hadn't meant to say it, especially in that moment, it had just slipped out. You also hadn't meant to confirm it was in fact, what you meant. But you meant it with your whole heart, and you knew as soon as Jey voiced it as an option, you knew you couldn't leave him behind again.

"I mean it, Jey. I've never meant anything more."

[slaybestieslay946]

Hi, could you one where Percy and reader take Annabeth and Luke to the cinema for the 1st time please?

Sorry it took so long to get to you, I just got back from holiday!! hope you enjoy, requests are always open!

Cinema Trip

MASTERLIST

pairing: luke castellan x posiedon!reader

word count: 1000

warnings: gushing about inception because its my fav movie

a/n: I'M SORRY GUYS BUT ANNABETH WOULD LOVEEEE NOLAN DONT EVEN LIE

(also this is part of my future au! for luke, and its pre- him and reader gettjng together)

“You’re joking?!” You stared at Luke, entirely disbelieving.

He cocked his head at you, a confused expression on his face, “Uh, no? What’s wrong with that?” 

“But, Luke, you love movies? What do you mean you’ve never been to the cinema?” 

“I dunno? Just never thought about it I guess.” He pondered. Truthfully, he’d never really had the time, especially not as a kid. And now that he was stuck at camp year round, he didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. 

“Well, we’ve gotta fix this.” You said, rubbing your chin, a serious expression crossing your face, “C’mon, we’re going on a break out.” 

You grabbed him by the wrist and hauled him off the bed, dragging him to the door of the (surprisingly) empty Hermes cabin. He wasn’t surprised this was your solution. You two had an annual tradition to break out of camp, usually to try some new restaurant that had opened up, or go and visit somewhere.

“Woah, woah, woah. Wait a minute. You wanna waste your break out on me?” He asked, the thought suddenly occurring to him as he pulled you back.

“Waste?! Waste?! This is not a waste, Castellan, this is a matter of culture, and as your best friend, I won’t allow you to reach the age of 20 without visiting the cinema.” You declared, firmly placing your hands on your hips in that way that meant there was no arguing with you. 

He sighed fondly, but accepted, slinging an arm around your shoulder and joining you in your departure of the Hermes cabin. 

But as you stepped outside, you realised that a younger pair of campers had been eavesdropping on your conversation. 

“And where are you two going?” Annabeth asked, adopting much the same stance that you had only moments earlier. 

“Uh, nowhere?” You lied feebly, trying to avoid the harsh glare of your younger brother. 

“You two are sneaking out again!” She exclaimed. 

“No we’re not.” Luke insisted, shaking his head firmly, with you following suit. 

“Fine. Then you won’t mind us two tagging along on your journey to nowhere?” Percy piped up, clapping a hand on Annabeth’s shoulder. 

You and Luke shared a glance. Somehow, you had managed to be backed into a corner by two twelve year olds. 

“If you leave us here, we’ll tell Chiron.” Percy continued, and that seemed to seal the deal. You and Luke nodded wearily, and the two kids cheered in joy, following you both to the outskirts of Camp half blood, and jumping into one of the cars Argus would use.

At first, Luke could tell you felt slightly guilty about taking them along with you both, worried that you may put them in danger. That was of course, until you found out Annabeth had also never visited a cinema, and you clearly decided it was worth the risk because of ‘culture’.

Luke wasn’t too worried. He knew you could handle yourself, you were a child of the big three, and he was the strongest swordsman at camp, between the pair of you, you could deal with any monsters that came your way. 

He couldn’t help but watch you as you drove, the way you would laugh heartily at your brother's sassy comments and Annabeth’s light teasing. The way you tapped your fingers on the steering wheel in time to whatever song was on the radio. You were so… perfect. 

Of course he thought that. His (enormous) crush on you only seemed to be growing larger by the day. If that was even possible. Every now and then Annabeth would catch him staring at you, giving Luke a sly smirk and wriggle of her eyebrows before returning to tormenting Percy. 

Eventually, you reached the movie theatre, a slightly old and run down place, but definitely still functioning. At least Luke knew it was definitely real and not some illusion from a monster, since he remembered passing it at least ten times on his way to and from camp. 

“Ok, seeing as this is Luke and Annabeth’s trip, we’ll let those two pick the movie, eh?” Luke watched you whisper to Percy, and he seemed to have made a joke that had the pair of you laughing conspiratorially. Sometimes he forgot that you weren’t totally biological siblings with the way you telepathically connected. 

Luke chose to follow Annabeth as she ran up to the boards with all the movies currently showing, scanning the few posters that were there, and diligently reading the descriptions. 

“What are you thinking Luke? This one looks cool.” She pointed at a poster with a twisting maze, advertising a film called ‘Inception’. He’d heard a bit about it and it sounded like something Annabeth would like. 

“Yeah, really cool. I’m down for that one.” He shrugged. 

Annabeth then waved you and Percy over, pointing up at the film poster and saying that’s the one she wanted to see. 

Luke watched as your face lit up, trying to stop the sappy quickening of his heart at the sight. 

“Nice choice, Annie. You’ll love Nolan.” You grinned, leading the group over to the till to purchase tickets, as well as an obscene amount of snacks. 

*

And, of course, you were right. As soon as the group left the movie theatre, Annabeth was gushing about the directorial style, and the plot line, the genius twists and foreshadowing. You eagerly chatted with her in return, discussing the questions the film left you with and how much you wanted to rewatch it just to dissect all the tiny parts. 

Luke also couldn’t help but notice Percy’s muddled expression as he walked out the theatre and back to the car. 

“You understand any of that?” He asked Luke, furrowing his eyebrows as if deep in thought. 

The older boy laughed, “Nope. Not a single bit of it.” 

Percy sighed in relief, “Oh thank god. I thought I was so stupid, but now I see Y/N and Annabeth are just really smart.” 

“It’s surprising she’s not in Athena.” Luke was unable to stop himself from staring as you talked animatedly to his little sister. 

Percy looked at the older boy, smirking slightly before saying, “Yeah. You're lucky she’s not in Athena though, or she probably would’ve worked out that you’re obsessed with her by now.” 

“Shut up.”

[bucky-barnes-diaries]

Day 10 — Under The Mistletoe

Pairing || TFATWS!Bucky x Female!Reader

Word Count || Around 600

Contents & Warnings || Fluff, very mild Smut — mild explicit content/language.

Disclaimers || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

Advent Calendar 2023

A holiday tradition Bucky loved to uphold was the surprise of a passionate mistletoe kiss. What had begun as a modest tradition had evolved into a playful game, where the challenge was for you to find the hidden mistletoe Bucky had hung somewhere in your house. The reward? A passionate and unforgettable kiss from his truly. With each passing year, Bucky had to get more creative with it, hiding it in odd corners throughout your house, turning the hunt into more of a challenge.

During the annual Christmas decoration of your home into a festive wonderland, Bucky, with a mischievous glint in his eye, would slip away for a moment to discreetly position the mistletoe somewhere in your house. And thus, your hunt for the mistletoe began.

The next day, you spent the morning searching every nook and cranny and stopping beneath every doorway. Every hopeful glance at Bucky was met with a playful shake of his head and a teasing smile, indicating that you had not won the grand kissing prize.

It continued for two more days, and with each shake of his stupid big head and an annoying teasing smile on that stupidly handsome face, the frustration built. Bucky promised he would help you the next day with the search, even tell you where the mistletoe was hidden. However, that same evening, fate took a different turn, and you stumbled upon the mistletoe without even trying.

— — — —

As you entered the spare bedroom to stash away some Christmas presents in the closet discreetly, Bucky’s stealthy approach went unnoticed. It wasn’t until you felt his warm breath tingling down your neck and his hands gently asserting a soft grip on your hips that his presence became known.

“Look up, doll,” he murmured, his lips delicately grazing your skin.

Complying, your gaze landed on the leathery leaves hanging above the closet—the very mistletoe you had spent days searching. Mentally facepalming, you scolded yourself for overlooking the guest bedroom—stupid idiot.

With a smooth motion, Bucky turned you around, pressing you against the closet door. His heated body melded with yours, his hands finding a place on your waist, sending delicious shivers down your spine. As he leaned in, face mere inches from yours, your lips brushing, a playful smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Looks like you’ve earned yourself a mistletoe kiss, doll.”

He captured your lips in a searing kiss. As your lips met, a spark ignited in your chest at his passion, sending waves of trill through your body. Your fingers tangled in his hair, and you drew a deep moan from him as the kiss deepened. His lips parted yours effortlessly, tongue slipping inside to caress skillfully against yours, eliciting a whimper and almost causing you to buckle under his assertive passion. For a blissful minute or two, you lost yourself in the intoxication of Bucky underneath the mistletoe. His lips, tongue, and touch leaving you dizzy with desire.

When you eventually pulled away, breathing deeply, you hummed in appreciation, cupping Bucky’s scruffy cheeks as the rush of his intoxication still coursed through your veins.

“Wow, that was worth the three-day wait.”

“Definitely, but I’ll give you a bonus for being so patient this year,” he rumbled in his deep voice, his nose skimming down the column of your neck as he planted open-mouthed kisses on your heated skin.

“Y-yeah?”

“Mhm,” he responded, brushing his lips underneath your ear. “As a bonus for being such a good and patient girl, I’ll make you come on my fingers, tongue, and cock,” he groaned, biting your earlobe.

A naughty thought crossed your mind. Next year, you will deliberately struggle to find the mistletoe to be awarded the added bonus.

Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!

I don’t do taglists so please follow @bucky-barnes-diaries-library and turn on notifications to never miss out on my writing!

[rainforestakiie]

hello everyone!

merry christmas!

here is my christmas gift for everyone! i hope you all like it! it's just a short au, but i hope it's good enough.

Life was unforgiving, a relentless tide that threatened to drown Adam every waking moment. Each day felt heavier than the last, like carrying stones in his chest. His boys, his entire world, were struggling in ways he couldn’t always reach. Adam loved them more than life itself, more than his own breath. If it were possible to take their pain and bear it for them, he would have done so without hesitation. But this year—this crushing, merciless year—had left him grappling for solutions, for ways to hold everything together.

Eve, their mother, had died when Abel was just a toddler, too young to remember her laughter or the softness of her touch. Cain, on the other hand, carried the weight of her absence like an invisible anchor, dragging him down into a sea of anger and sorrow. The grief burned in him, raw and festering, and no matter how much therapy Adam arranged, no matter how much he tried to reach him, Cain’s pain found ways to seep out. He bottled his emotions, compressing them into a tight coil that would inevitably snap, releasing all the bitterness in sharp, devastating bursts.

Abel adored Cain, following him with wide, innocent eyes full of admiration. But Cain couldn’t bring himself to meet that gaze. He avoided Abel, pushed him away, his anger turning inward, his love for his little brother drowned beneath the weight of his grief. And Abel, sweet and tender-hearted, would turn to Adam, his voice trembling as he asked, “Daddy, why doesn’t Cain like me?”

Those moments broke Adam. He would soothe Abel as best he could, whispering reassurances he didn’t fully believe. Meanwhile, Cain’s muffled sobs echoed from behind his closed bedroom door. Adam felt like he was being crushed under the weight of it all, as though he were the one dying, slowly and quietly, under the stress and sorrow.

When December approached, Adam made himself a promise. This Christmas would be different. He would give them a holiday they’d remember forever, a glimmer of light in their darkened world. He picked up every overtime shift he could, leaving the boys with their kind, elderly neighbor, Mrs. Whitaker. The extra hours drained him, but the thought of their smiles kept him going. They deserved joy, deserved a Christmas that felt magical. He swore to himself he’d give them everything.

The tree was the first step. Adam let them choose the decorations, watching with quiet joy as Cain’s usual scowl softened into something resembling a smile. They wandered through Walmart, Abel’s tiny hands tugging at Adam’s sleeve every few seconds to show him some shiny ornament or string of lights. Cain lingered by the electronics aisle, his eyes lighting up as he spotted the Xbox display. Abel, ever the dreamer, stopped by the toy section, his gaze repeatedly drifting to a colorful dollhouse. Adam pretended not to notice how long Abel stared, but he mentally added it to his list. Whatever it took, he’d get them those gifts. It was going to be a good Christmas. It had to be.

But fate, cruel and unrelenting, had other plans.

They left the store as dusk fell, the air biting and crisp, their bags filled with ornaments and garlands. Abel’s mittened hand slipped into Adam’s as they crossed the parking lot, his high-pitched chatter bouncing into the cold night. Cain trailed behind, earbuds in, his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets.

It happened so fast… and yet so slowly.

Adam would replay the moment in his mind a thousand times, the scene burned into his memory like a scar that would never fade. Abel’s hand slipped from his grasp—just for a second, just long enough for the boy to dart ahead.

“Abel!” Adam’s voice cut through the crisp air, sharp with panic.

Then he heard it. The low growl of a car engine revving, tires screeching against the icy pavement. His heart leapt into his throat as time seemed to slow to a crawl. He dropped the shopping bags without thinking, the sound of ornaments shattering barely registering in his mind. His legs moved before his brain could process, every muscle screaming as he lunged toward his youngest son.

“Abel!” he roared, his voice raw with terror.

The headlights blinded him, twin beams cutting through the gathering twilight. Abel froze, his wide eyes reflecting the glow like a deer caught in the path of an oncoming truck. Adam’s world narrowed to that single moment, the sound of his pounding heart drowning out everything else. He reached out, his fingers brushing against the fabric of Abel’s coat—so close, so agonizingly close…

And then the impact.

The sound was sickening, a dull, hollow thud that echoed in the parking lot and seemed to reverberate in Adam’s very bones. The car skidded to a stop, but the damage was done. Abel’s small body crumpled to the ground, motionless.

“No,” Adam whispered, his voice barely audible. “No, no, no…”

He fell to his knees beside Abel, scooping his limp body into his arms. The boy’s face was pale, his lashes fluttering weakly as he let out a faint, wheezing breath.

“Daddy?” Abel’s voice was so soft, barely a whisper, but it shattered Adam’s heart.

“I’m here, baby,” Adam choked out, tears streaming down his face. “I’m here. You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Cain stood frozen a few feet away, his earbuds dangling from his ears, his face pale as he stared at his little brother. For the first time in years, the anger was gone, replaced by pure, unfiltered fear.

“Call 911!” Adam barked at no one in particular, his voice cracking. “Someone call an ambulance!”

The driver stumbled out of the car, their face pale and trembling, words spilling from their mouth in a frantic, incoherent stream. Adam didn’t even look at them. All he could see was Abel, his sweet, precious boy, so small and fragile in his arms.

The world blurred around him, time losing all meaning. Sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder, but Adam’s focus never wavered. He held Abel close, whispering promises he wasn’t sure he could keep.

“Stay with me, buddy,” he pleaded, his voice breaking. “Please, stay with me.”

Cain dropped to his knees beside them, his hands trembling as he reached out, hesitating before placing them on Abel’s tiny arm.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry.”

Adam looked at his eldest son, his eyes filled with a mix of pain and desperate hope. For the first time in what felt like forever, they shared an unspoken understanding. They were a family—fractured, hurting, but a family nonetheless. And they would fight for Abel with everything they had.

A week later, the hospital room had become their second home. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the air, and the soft hum of machines monitoring Abel’s recovery provided a constant background noise. Abel lay propped up in his hospital bed, his leg encased in a bright blue cast, small doodles already decorating its surface thanks to the nurses. His face was pale, but his eyes still held their spark of determination, his bravery shining through in every small smile he gave Adam and Cain.

Adam sat by his youngest son’s side, exhaustion etched into his features. The bags under his eyes told a story of sleepless nights spent worrying, praying, and strategizing how to manage the mounting bills. The Christmas he’d envisioned, filled with presents and laughter, felt like a distant dream now. Every spare penny was going toward the hospital, and the magic of the holiday seemed to be slipping away. But Adam refused to let his boys see his despair. He forced a smile, even as his heart felt heavy.

“You know,” Adam began, his voice warm and upbeat, “I heard on the news that Santa’s making his way down from the North Pole. They say the snowstorm coming tomorrow means he’s testing his sleigh to make sure it’s ready for Christmas Eve.”

Abel’s face lit up despite the pain that flickered in his expression when he moved too quickly.

“Really, Daddy? Santa’s coming soon?” His small hands gripped the edge of the blanket, his excitement momentarily washing away the weariness in his voice.

“That’s right, buddy,” Adam said, brushing a stray curl from Abel’s forehead. “And you know what? I bet he’s got something special planned for you. I mean, who else is as brave as you, huh? Santa must have noticed that.”

Abel smiled, but it faltered after a moment. His eyes fell to his hands, his fingers twisting nervously.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” he whispered. “For being stupid. If I hadn’t run off…”

“Hey,” Adam interrupted gently, leaning closer. His voice wavered, but he kept it steady enough. “No, Abel. None of this is your fault, do you hear me? You didn’t do anything wrong. Things happen, and all that matters is that you’re here with us. Don’t ever think you’re to blame for this.”

Abel nodded, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Okay, Daddy.”

Across the room, Cain sat in a chair by the window, his back turned to them. His posture was stiff, his arms crossed tightly against his chest. The reflection of his face in the glass showed the turmoil he refused to voice. His jaw was clenched, and his gaze was distant, focused on something outside that wasn’t there. Adam knew the guilt was eating at him too—Cain had barely spoken since the accident. He hadn’t even yelled or snapped, which somehow hurt more than his usual outbursts.

“Cain,” Adam called softly. “Why don’t you come sit with us? Abel’s been waiting for his big brother to tell him a story.”

Cain hesitated, his shoulders tensing. For a moment, Adam thought he might ignore the invitation, but then Cain stood, his movements slow and deliberate. He walked over, his hands shoved deep into his hoodie pockets and perched stiffly on the edge of the bed.

“Hey, squirt,” Cain muttered, his voice gruff but soft. He avoided Abel’s eyes, instead staring at the cast. “Nice artwork you’ve got there. Who drew the dinosaur?”

Abel’s grin returned, as bright as the morning sun.

“Nurse Kelly! But I told her where to put it,” he said proudly. “You can draw something too, Cain!”

Cain’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile.

“Maybe later,” he said, his voice barely audible.

Adam watched the exchange with a quiet sense of relief. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. No matter how broken they felt, no matter how much the year had battered them, they still had each other. And somehow, that had to be enough.

As the evening wore on, Adam stayed by Abel’s side, reading him stories about reindeer and snowmen, while Cain sat silently, occasionally chiming in with a sarcastic comment that made Abel giggle. The snow outside began to fall, dusting the town in white, and for the first time in days, Adam allowed himself to hope.

They might not have the perfect Christmas he had dreamed of, but they still had love. And love, Adam thought, could make even the hardest winters feel warm.

Adam swallowed hard, his throat tightening as he pulled at the frayed ends of his sweater sleeves. His fingers trembled slightly, betraying the calm facade he tried so desperately to maintain. Clearing his throat, he forced a smile and glanced between his boys.

“Hey,” he began, his voice uneven, “Why don’t we write our letters to Santa? He’s gonna need to know what you guys want for Christmas, right?”

Abel’s eyes widened, his face lighting up with a gasp of excitement. “Really, Daddy? We can write to Santa?”

Before Adam could respond, Cain’s voice cut through the moment like a dull blade.

“Why?” he asked flatly, not even bothering to look at Adam. He leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

Adam blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Well...”

“Because Santa won’t know what to get you otherwise,” he replied, trying to keep his tone light, though the strain crept into his words.

Cain’s face darkened, his jaw tightening as he scoffed. “We can’t afford a Christmas this year, so what’s the point?”

The air in the room seemed to grow heavier, the cheerful spark in Abel’s eyes flickering as his brow furrowed in confusion.

“What do you mean?” Abel asked, his voice trembling.

Adam tried to laugh it off, waving his hand dismissively. “Santa is magic, remember? He doesn’t need money. He’s got elves and all that Christmas magic stuff.”

Cain let out a bitter snort, shaking his head.

“Santa doesn’t exist, Dad,” he muttered, his tone sharp and final. He lifted his gaze to Adam, his dark eyes filled with an anger and sadness that cut Adam to the core. “I know it’s you. You’re the one who works your ass off so we can have Christmas. And this year? There’s no Christmas.”

Abel’s lower lip quivered, tears welling up in the corners of his wide, innocent eyes.

“Santa... doesn’t exist?” he whispered, his voice cracking with disbelief. His small hands clutched the edge of his blanket as though it could protect him from Cain’s words.

Adam’s chest tightened as he hissed at Cain, his tone sharp but quiet.

“Enough,” he said firmly, his eyes darting toward Abel, whose cheeks were streaked with tears.

Cain huffed, rolling his eyes. “Whatever,” he muttered, standing abruptly and stomping toward the door. The sound of the door swinging shut behind him echoed through the room, leaving a suffocating silence in its wake.

Abel sniffled, his small body trembling as he wiped at his eyes.

“Daddy... is Santa real?” he asked, his voice desperate, pleading for the truth.

Adam’s heart shattered. He crouched beside the bed, gently taking Abel’s hand in his.

“Of course, he is,” Adam said softly, though his voice broke under the weight of the lie. “Santa’s as real as the magic in Christmas, buddy. And you know what? I bet he’s waiting to see your list right now.”

Abel sniffled again, hesitating. Adam reached for his notebook and a fluffy, pom-pom-tipped pen that one of the nurses had left behind. Placing it gently on the bed beside Abel, he gave his youngest son a reassuring smile.

“Why don’t you start on your list while I go check on Cain? Just write down everything you want, okay? Santa’s got this.”

Abel’s wide, teary eyes stared down at the blank paper, his small hand reaching hesitantly for the pen.

“Okay, Daddy,” he whispered. “But... is Cain gonna be okay?”

Adam ruffled Abel’s brown curls, his voice soft and soothing. “He will be. He’s just sad right now, that’s all. But I promise, everything will be okay.”

Abel nodded, clutching the pen tightly as Adam stood. Casting one last glance at his youngest son, Adam forced himself to step out of the room, his heart heavy.

The hallway felt colder, lonelier, as Adam searched for Cain, his stomach twisting with worry. Cain was only thirteen, still a child himself, no matter how much he tried to act otherwise. Adam knew the anger Cain carried was just a mask for the hurt he couldn’t put into words. Finding him, reaching him—that was the only way forward. Adam took a deep breath and moved toward the elevator, silently praying he wouldn’t fail them again.

Abel sniffled, staring at the blank page in front of him. The notebook felt heavy in his lap, not because of its weight but because of what it represented. What could he ask Santa for? The dollhouse he’d seen at the store? The cuddly Care Bears he’d wanted for so long? He shook his head. Those things didn’t matter right now. Not really.

Abel’s tiny fingers curled around the pen, his brow furrowed in deep thought. What he wanted wasn’t a toy. What he wanted... was for his family to feel whole again.

The pen touched the paper, and Abel began to write in his uneven, childlike handwriting:

‘Dear Satan,

Hi, it’s me, Abel. I hope you and the reindeers, and the elves are doing okay! I’ve been trying to be good this year, even though sometimes it’s hard.

I thought a lot about what I want for Christmas, but it’s not toys or anything like that. I just want my daddy to be happy. He’s so tired all the time, and I think he’s really sad too. He works so, so hard to make sure me and Cain are okay, but I wish he didn’t have to. Maybe you can help him not have to work so hard anymore? And maybe... maybe you could bring him someone who can make him smile again.

And Santa, I want Cain to feel better too. He doesn’t like to talk to me, and it makes my heart hurt. I think he’s sad like Daddy, but he won’t tell me why. Could you make him happy again? I miss him. I miss when he used to laugh and play with me.

That’s all I want, Santa. Just for my family to be happy. And, if you can, please make it snow this year! Cain really likes the snow, even when he doesn’t admit it.

Thank you.

Love, Abel

As he finished, Abel sniffled again, staring down at the page. His small chest rose and fell with a deep breath. He wasn’t sure if Santa could do all that, but it didn’t hurt to ask. Carefully, he placed the notebook on the table beside him, leaning back into his pillows with a soft sigh.

He doesn’t notice his spelling mistake at all as he folded it up.

The cold air hit Adam’s face as he rushed out of the hospital, the sliding doors hissing shut behind him. His eyes scanned the parking lot and the dimly lit sidewalk beyond until he finally spotted Cain, sitting on a bench just outside the hospital’s entrance. His hood was pulled up over his head, his shoulders hunched as he stared at the ground.

Adam approached cautiously, his heart heavy with worry and frustration.

“Cain,” he called gently, but his eldest didn’t look up.

“Leave me alone,” Cain muttered, his voice tight.

Adam sighed, stepping closer. “I can’t do that, bud. I need to talk to you.”

Cain huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “What’s there to talk about?”

Adam sat down beside him, the bench creaking under his weight. “Cain, I know you’re hurting. I know it’s been really hard since... since your mom passed. But you can’t keep taking it out on Abel. He doesn’t understand why you’re so angry, and it’s breaking his heart.”

Cain scoffed, his jaw tightening as he turned to glare at Adam. “Why do you always take his side? You don’t get it.”

Adam frowned, his voice soft but firm. “Then help me understand. What’s going on, Cain?”

Cain’s hands balled into fists, his voice rising. “How can I be happy when it’s his fault Mom’s gone?”

The words hit Adam like a punch to the gut. His heart shattered, and for a moment, he could only stare at his son in disbelief.

“Cain,” he said quietly, his voice trembling. “It wasn’t Abel’s fault. Your mother got sick, sweetheart. No one could have stopped it—not you, not Abel, not me.”

Cain shook his head violently, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. “She wouldn’t have gotten sick if she didn’t have Abel! If he wasn’t born, she’d still be here!”

Adam reached out, placing a hand on Cain’s shoulder, but the boy shrugged it off. “That’s not true, Cain. You were so little back then, you don’t remember everything. Your mom loved you both so much, and she wanted Abel. She was sick before she even knew about him.”

Cain turned away, his voice breaking. “You don’t know that.”

“I do,” Adam insisted, his tone steady but pained. “I was there, Cain. I saw it all. Your mom... she fought so hard to stay with us. She loved you more than anything. She loved Abel too. Losing her wasn’t anyone’s fault. It just happened.”

Cain’s shoulders trembled, but he refused to look at Adam.

“I hate him,” he whispered, though the words lacked conviction.

Adam’s heart ached as he leaned closer. “You don’t hate him. You’re angry and hurt, and I understand that. But Abel loves you so much, Cain. He looks up to you, and he doesn’t understand why you push him away. He just wants his big brother to love him back.”

Cain’s breath hitched, and for a moment, Adam thought he might break through. But then Cain shook his head, standing abruptly. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Cain—”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it!” Cain shouted, his voice echoing through the quiet night.

Adam watched helplessly as Cain stormed further into the parking lot, his chest tight with sorrow. He wanted to fix this, to hold his family together, but the cracks ran so deep.

“Cain,” he called again, his voice softer now. “Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’m here. I love you, kid. Don’t forget that.”

The snow fell gently at first, the flakes swirling down like delicate whispers from the heavens. Cain stood frozen, his emerald eyes wide as the first flake landed on his gloved hand. But as he stared closer, his brow furrowed, his voice small and uncertain.

“It’s... red?”

Adam’s stomach twisted at the words. He blinked, following Cain’s gaze to the flecks of snow that dusted the ground around them. It wasn’t white—it was crimson, like the snow itself had been stained. His breath caught as he instinctively reached for Cain’s shoulder, his fingers trembling slightly.

“Cain,” Adam said carefully, his voice low and steady, “Let’s get back inside. This... this doesn’t look right.”

Cain nodded mutely, his earlier anger dissipating into something far more fragile—uncertainty, perhaps even fear. Adam guided him toward the hospital’s entrance, his hand resting firmly on the boy’s shoulder as the sliding doors whooshed open.

Once inside, they turned to watch through the glass as the snowfall grew heavier, the once-gentle flurries transforming into a steady cascade. The red snow blanketed the cars, the pavement, the world outside. Adam’s jaw tightened, his mind racing as he tried to process what he was seeing.

“What in the world is this?” he muttered, half to himself.

Beside him, Cain made a soft sound, a noise somewhere between curiosity and unease. His forehead pressed lightly against the glass as he stared out, his breath fogging the surface.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” he murmured.

Adam swallowed hard, his mind darting back to Eve, to the winters they’d shared together when the snow came soft and white, blanketing the world in peace. But this… this was something else entirely. It wasn’t supposed to snow at all—Adam had only mentioned it to Abel as a way to keep the boy’s hope alive, to give him a sense of magic during such a difficult time.

But now it was snowing. Red snow.

Adam glanced down at Cain, who was still staring out with a mixture of wonder and unease.

“Cain,” Adam said quietly, “I don’t know what’s happening, but... let’s not tell Abel just yet, okay? He doesn’t need to worry about this.”

Cain hesitated, then nodded. “Okay…”

Adam’s hand rested lightly on Cain’s shoulder again, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He tried to push the unease down, to bury it beneath the weight of his responsibility. But as the red snow continued to fall outside, he couldn’t help but wonder: was this some strange, miraculous sign? Or something else entirely?

Adam felt like he was trapped in a surreal dream, one where the universe had suddenly decided to grant him reprieve from years of hardship. The letter from Eden Apple Insurance remained on the table, untouched since he first read it. No matter how many times he glanced at it, the words didn’t change. Insurance. Fully covered. Abel’s medical bills cleared. His mind raced as he tried to piece together how this could even be real.

And yet, it wasn’t just the medical bills. Everything was... shifting. Subtly, then undeniably.

The next day, Adam received another letter. This time it was from the bank. He stared at it for a long moment, his fingers trembling as he opened the envelope. Inside was a notice about a loan he’d taken years ago to cover unexpected expenses. It had been eating at him, every payment feeling like a weight tied to his ankles. But now the letter said the loan had been forgiven. Written off due to “processing discrepancies.”

“Processing discrepancies?” Adam muttered aloud, baffled. His heart raced. Was this even legal? Was it real? He didn’t have time to dwell on it before his phone buzzed.

It was a text from his cousin, Darren, who had borrowed a couple hundred dollars last year and conveniently forgotten about it. “Hey, Adam. Just sent the money I owed you to your account. Sorry it took so long. Thanks for being patient.”

Adam dropped the phone on the table, staring at it like it had sprouted wings. Darren? Paying him back?

That night, as Adam tucked Abel into bed, Cain lingered in the doorway of the hospital room. Adam half-expected his eldest son to grumble about something or stomp off outside to wait for him, but instead, Cain crossed his arms and leaned against the frame, watching Abel with a faint smile on his face.

Adam hesitated, glancing up. “Something on your mind, kiddo?”

Cain shifted awkwardly but didn’t leave. Instead, he spoke, his voice softer than usual. “I, uh… was thinking we could have lasagna tomorrow?”

The words hit Adam like a truck. He froze, blinking at Cain as though he’d just spoken in another language.

“Lasagna?”

Cain gave a small, almost sheepish shrug. “Yeah. I mean, I know we haven’t had it in, like… forever. But I was thinking about Mom a lot lately. I don’t think she’d want me to... I don’t know, keep being this... angry.”

He fidgeted, his face flushing slightly, his green eyes flicking down to the floor. “I just… I feel like I should try. For her. And for Abel.”

Adam’s throat tightened as he tried to find words. His first instinct was to double-check, to make sure this was actually his son standing in front of him. But instead, he simply nodded, his voice thick with emotion.

“I’ll make it. First thing tomorrow.”

Cain’s lips twitched into a grin. A real grin. “Cool. Thanks, Dad.”

Adam blinked several times, then glanced out the window where the red snow continued to fall, blanketing the ground in its strange, otherworldly shimmer. He still couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t supposed to be possible, that this bizarre, blood-coloured snowfall wasn’t a natural phenomenon.

But it wasn’t just the snow.

The next morning, another unexpected shift: the car. Adam had been worrying about it for weeks, hearing the strange clunking noises whenever he drove to work or the hospital. The repairs were going to cost him a fortune—money he didn’t have, even with the other miracles happening. But when he checked the mail, there was a letter from the local auto shop.

“Due to a holiday promotional raffle, your car has been fully repaired at no cost to you. Merry Christmas!”

Adam sat back in his chair, staring at the letter with wide eyes. He hadn’t entered any raffle. He hadn’t even stepped foot in the shop recently.

Then Cain came downstairs, tossing his backpack onto the couch with a grin. “Hey, Dad.”

Adam looked up, blinking. “Hey. You’re... in a good mood.”

“Yeah, school wasn’t so bad today,” Cain replied, plopping down at the table and grabbing a banana from the fruit bowl.

“Oh, and guess what? Ms. Kline actually cracked a joke in history class. Can you believe that?” He laughed, shaking his head.

Adam stared, dumbfounded. Cain. Laughing. Smiling. Talking about school as though it didn’t weigh him down like a millstone.

“Uh, lasagna tonight, right?” Cain asked, glancing up.

“Y-Yeah,” Adam stammered, still processing. “Lasagna.”

Cain grinned. “Cool.”

It was as though the universe had flipped a switch. And then came the hospital call that threw him for another loop: Abel was being discharged early. Christmas Eve, to be exact. Adam nearly dropped the phone, his mind whirring. “Wait, what? Are you sure? I thought you’d keep him through Christmas!”

The nurse on the other end chuckled. “It’s a Christmas miracle, Mr. Dawson. His recovery’s been remarkable. We’ll have the paperwork ready for you tomorrow.”

Adam hung up, his head spinning. He glanced again at the window, at the crimson snow falling steadily, glittering in the faint sunlight. There was no logical explanation for any of this. None of it made sense.

As he rubbed a hand over his face, he murmured to himself, “What in the world is going on?”

Cain’s voice came from the living room. “It’s a Christmas miracle, Dad. Just roll with it.”

Adam couldn’t help but laugh softly, his gaze drifting back to the red snow outside.

“A Christmas miracle,” he whispered. Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. But for the first time in years, Adam felt something he hadn’t dared to feel in a long time.

Hope.

Christmas was just around the corner, and Adam had a sinking feeling that, if he hurried, he could still create the perfect holiday for his boys. The red snow swirling outside was strange, unsettling even, but it couldn’t ruin their Christmas... could it? When he picked Abel up from the hospital, it was the first time in weeks that Adam had felt light—truly light—as if an invisible weight had been lifted from his chest.

Abel’s small arms wrapped tightly around his neck, and he buried his face against Adam’s chest, his voice soft, “I’m so glad I’m home, Daddy.”

Adam grinned, his heart swelling with love as he gently patted Abel’s back. He could hear Cain humming beside them as they walked up the stairs to their flat. Cain looked so... happy, so carefree, like nothing was wrong.

Adam shifted Abel higher on his hip as they reached the door, a small frown tugging at his lips. The one thing that weighed on his mind was that he hadn’t been able to finish the Christmas decorations before Abel came home. He’d wanted it to be perfect for them. He opened the door, stepping inside... and froze. His heart skipped a beat, a strange feeling of dread curling in his stomach as his eyes widened.

Both Cain and Abel gasped, their voices filled with wonder. Cain looked at him, his brow furrowed in disbelief, “When did you have time to do all this?”

Abel squealed, his arms tightening around Adam in pure joy. “Daddy! This is amazing!”

Adam let out a soft, awkward laugh, his eyes darting around the room. The living room was... overdone. Every inch of their home was covered in decorations, down to the hallway, kitchen, and even the bathroom. Cain and Abel’s shared room, with the bunk beds, looked like something out of a dream—or maybe a nightmare, depending on how you looked at it. Adam carefully set Abel down on the sofa, scratching the back of his head nervously.

How did this all happen?

“Dad?!” Cain’s voice called out from the kitchen. “You made cookies?”

Adam blinked, staring at Cain as he entered the room, a plate of cookies in hand. They were perfectly shaped, decorated like little Santa faces and reindeer, their eyes glittering with something almost too perfect. Adam’s mouth hung open, confusion flooding his mind. Did he make these? He didn’t remember baking cookies. But they looked so... real, so delicious.

Cain hummed, moving toward Abel with a playful grin, offering him one of the cookies. Abel gasped, his eyes wide with delight.

“Daddy! They’re so cute!” he giggled, picking up a reindeer cookie, “Look, this one has red eyes!”

He laughed, delighted by the bizarre little treat.

Adam’s lips twitched into a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His gaze drifted to the Christmas tree, its dark red, purple, and black ornaments gleaming in the strange light of the room. It was... something, alright. A bit much, even. Too much. But somehow, everything felt so perfect—too perfect. He couldn’t remember doing it, yet it was there, overwhelming him with its eerie beauty.

Something was wrong, but for a moment, Adam couldn’t figure out what. He only knew that, for better or worse, everything was just... done.

Adam’s heart thudded in his chest as he slowly stepped further into the flat, his eyes taking in every inch of the transformed space. Twinkling fairy lights adorned the walls, shimmering garlands hung over doorways, and stockings were neatly hung by the window ledge—one for each of them, including a tiny one for the dog they didn’t even have. The Christmas tree stood proudly in the corner of the living room, a mix of red, purple, and black ornaments gleaming under the glow of string lights.

Cain plopped onto the sofa beside Abel, a cookie already half-eaten in his hand.

“Seriously, Dad,” he said around a mouthful. “You really outdid yourself. This is, like, Pinterest-level stuff.”

Adam blinked, his mind scrambling to make sense of it all. “Uh…”

His voice cracked slightly as he tried to form words. “Thanks…?” He sounded so unsure it made Cain glance up.

“Wait,” Cain frowned, raising a brow. “You did do this, right?”

Adam scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, his eyes darting to the cookies in Cain’s hand. He didn’t remember making cookies. In fact, he didn’t remember doing any of this. His gaze swept over the Christmas decorations again—the perfectly strung lights, the coordinated tree ornaments, the festive throw pillows on the couch. How could he have missed this? Was someone else in his flat? Was he losing it?

Abel’s squeals of excitement snapped him out of his thoughts. The little boy held the reindeer cookie up to Adam with bright, sparkling eyes.

“Daddy, look! It’s Rudolph, but his nose is so shiny! And he has the cutest little antlers!” Abel giggled, his tiny hands cradling the cookie like it was a treasure.

Adam forced a smile, his lips twitching slightly.

“That’s, uh, great, buddy,” he managed, his voice uneven.

Cain flopped back against the couch, pulling another cookie from the plate. “Man, you were busy,” he said, his voice light and relaxed.

“I mean, I didn’t think you’d even have time to get decorations, let alone set all this up.” He gestured vaguely at the room, then bit into another cookie.

Adam shifted nervously. “Yeah…” he murmured. “Busy.”

“Daddy?” Abel tilted his head, staring up at him with wide, curious eyes. “Did you make all this for us? It’s the best Christmas ever!”

Adam’s chest ached at the sincerity in his youngest son’s voice. He crouched down in front of Abel, brushing a stray curl out of his face.

 “Of course, I wanted to make this special for you,” he said softly. And it wasn’t a total lie. He did want to make it special. He just… didn’t know how all of this had come together.

Abel threw his arms around Adam’s neck, squeezing tightly. “Thank you, Daddy!”

Adam hugged him back, his heart both full and bewildered. When Abel pulled back, Adam glanced at Cain, who had stuffed another cookie in his mouth and was now flicking through a Christmas catalogue that had somehow appeared on the coffee table.

The flickering red glow from the snow outside caught Adam’s eye, and he glanced toward the window. The crimson snowstorm had picked up again, blanketing the streets and rooftops in an eerie glow. Adam felt a chill creep up his spine, though he quickly shook it off. Whatever this strange snow was, it had brought something to his family—something warm and magical.

“Alright,” Adam said, clapping his hands together. “Cookies before dinner isn’t exactly the best idea, but I’ll allow it. Let’s figure out what we’re making tonight.”

“Lasagna,” Cain piped up without hesitation.

Adam blinked, then laughed softly. “Right. Lasagna it is.”

As the boys chattered excitedly about Christmas morning, Adam stepped into the kitchen, running his hand along the countertop. Everything was spotless, perfectly arranged, as though someone had come in and scrubbed the place down to a shine. There were even candy canes arranged in a neat little jar on the counter, tied with a red ribbon.

He stared at the candy canes for a long moment, his stomach twisting. He didn’t have an explanation for any of this. But when he glanced back into the living room and saw his boys smiling—really, truly smiling—for the first time in what felt like forever, he decided he didn’t need one.

Lasagna. Eve was the one who always made it, and it was always perfect. The boys loved it, and so did he. How in the world was Adam supposed to make something half as good? He didn’t want to disappoint them—not now, not ever. But looking at them, seeing Cain laughing softly as he spoke to Abel, his heart swelled with love. Cain was always so good with him, so kind, and Abel, sweet little Abel, was glowing with happiness. Adam’s chest tightened with resolve. No, he wouldn’t disappoint them. He couldn’t. He was going to make the best lasagna in the world, no matter what.

With a deep breath, Adam entered the kitchen, determination in his steps. He unpacked the brown paper bag with all the ingredients, his hands moving methodically as he prepared to make something that could at least come close to Eve’s masterpiece. But as he scanned the cupboards for the baking tray, something caught his eye.

His brow furrowed as he crouched down, examining his oven. The handle felt strangely cool, and when he pulled it open—Adam froze. His breath hitched in his throat as he stared at the most beautifully made lasagna he’d ever seen. Perfectly layered, steaming, with golden-brown edges... and beside it, garlic bread, perfectly crisped.

Adam blinked, mouth agape. "What the...?" he muttered under his breath.

Who had broken into his flat? Who had decorated everything, made cookies, lasagna... and—Adam’s gaze shot to the counter. There, lined up like a holiday dream, were mugs filled with hot chocolate. Whipped cream piled high, sprinkles scattered on top, and a piece of chocolate sticking out like it belonged in a picture-perfect holiday ad.

His mind raced. What in the living hell was going on?

Was he losing his mind? He didn’t remember doing any of this. His pulse quickened as a cold shiver ran down his spine. The decorations, the cookies, the lasagna, the hot chocolate—who was doing this? Was someone watching him? The strange, perfect nature of it all felt too... unsettling.

Too good to be real.

He tried to steady his breath, but his heart was pounding. He couldn't shake the feeling that someone—or something—was here, watching. Helping him, maybe? Or worse... controlling everything.

The weirdness didn’t stop there, no. The entire night, Adam found himself stumbling across oddities that left his mind spinning. He just wanted to enjoy a film with the boys, share a cozy night together without disappointment. Their television was old and cracked, the screen was patchy, and it didn’t pick up all the channels, but Adam had accepted that.

Except, when he turned the TV on, the screen lit up perfectly. He bit his bottom lip, staring in disbelief. It wasn’t just the screen—it was everything. The colours were sharper, the picture clearer than it should’ve been, and there were more channels than the TV should have been able to pick up.

"How did that happen?" Adam muttered to himself, but before he could ponder it further, Abel, perched on the couch next to him, looked up with wide eyes.

“Daddy, can we have popcorn?”

Cain, ever the realist, tried to gently remind Abel they didn’t have any. Adam smiled softly, determined not to disappoint, and hummed, “I’ll just run to the shop quick!”

But before he could leave, he spotted a perfect bucket of fresh, salty and sweet popcorn sitting right on the kitchen counter.

His stomach twisted. He hadn’t made that. It was... too perfect.

When it was time for the boys to go to bed, Adam went to tuck them in, but when he stepped into their room, something else was wrong. The bunk bed—their bunk bed—had fresh, soft quilts, fluffy pillows, and snug sheets that smelled sweet. Cain gasped, staring at the bed in awe, and Abel squealed with joy upon finding a stuffed bear tucked under his covers.

Adam sheepishly tucked them both in, feeling a strange mixture of exhaustion and confusion. He stood still for a moment, his heart swelling with love for his boys, but a cold dread filled him as he scanned the perfectly decorated living room again.

Everything was so perfect. Too perfect.

What was going on? Adam’s gaze landed on something that stopped him dead in his tracks—Sinsmas. It was written everywhere—on the walls, on little notes scattered about. Sinsmas? He frowned, confused. What the hell was that?

Then, he noticed a small piece of paper on the floor. Bending down to pick it up, he saw it was Abel’s Christmas letter to Santa. Adam smiled, thinking maybe Abel had dropped it. His heart warmed as he read the sweet, innocent words, but his lips twitched when he noticed something odd. In big, colourful letters, it read…

“Dear Satan...”

Adam blinked, his mind racing. Did Abel really just write a letter to Satan instead of Santa? He laughed quietly, at first thinking it was just a mistake—maybe a simple mix-up. But as the sound of his own laugh faded into the strange silence of the room, he felt something else: a deep, gnawing unease.

Abel had written a letter to Satan. The devil? What was happening? His mind flashed back to the strange events of the past month—how everything seemed off, like a bad dream playing out in real life. The decorations, the cookies, the lasagna... Sinsmas—none of it made sense.

A wave of dizziness hit him, and he stood there for a long moment, staring at the letter in his hands. His smile faded, and in its place, an overwhelming sense of wrongness settled deep in his bones. Abel hadn’t just mixed up the names. It felt like this was more than a simple mistake. And for the first time, Adam couldn’t shake the feeling that something... or someone... was pulling the strings.

A deep, unsettling hum of confusion buzzed in his head. The world was starting to feel like it wasn’t his own anymore.

Satan?

No. Nooooo. The devil didn���t exist. It was just a story, a myth, a bedtime tale. He and Eve used to joke about it, back in the day—laughing, teasing each other about how they were Adam and Eve from Eden. As if they were the stars of some ancient fable. It was all just that—a fable. There was no heaven. No angels. No God. No hell. And certainly, no devil.

Nope. No.

Adam’s breath hitched as he sank into the sofa, his gaze fixed on Abel’s Christmas letter, his mind working overtime to make sense of it all. His left hand slowly moved to cover his mouth, his thoughts tumbling together like a twisted puzzle. Red snow? Red snow? How could he ignore that? It had snowed, but the snow had been red. And then his luck—his terrible luck—had suddenly turned around. Money problems vanished, a new car appeared out of nowhere, the television fixed itself, and the decorations... the decorations that had shown up overnight. And let’s not even talk about the food.

"Was... was this... all of this..." Adam whispered shakily, his heart beginning to pound with a growing sense of unease.

The sudden puff of hot breath against his neck made his blood run cold.

A voice, smooth and velvety, teased the air. "My work?"

Adam’s body froze. His heart raced, hammering against his ribs as the hair on the back of his neck stood up in sharp, icy awareness. His emerald eyes widened, and without thinking, he whipped his head around.

A man was standing just behind him, casually leaning against the back of the sofa, his arms crossed smugly over the cushions. The man’s lips curved into a smirk that was almost predatory, and his eyes—his eyes—glittered red and gold, like molten metal catching the light. Adam’s stomach twisted into a knot, his mind screaming that this wasn’t real.

Then, the man shifted slightly. A tail. It swished behind him, a sleek, dark appendage that flicked playfully against the floor, sending Adam stumbling back in shock. He yelped, his feet tangling as he fell backwards onto the floor, his backside landing with a painful thud.

The man stared down at him with an almost amused glint in his eyes. His horns—horns—glittered with the red glow of the room.

“Sorry, I should have greeted you first, huh?” The voice was almost too sweet, like syrup—sickly sweet.

Adam’s heart pounded in his ears. His breath came in sharp gasps as he scrambled to push himself back against the sofa, his hands shaking.

“Who... who are you?”

His voice was barely a whisper, tight with fear. He instinctively covered the back of his neck, as if that would somehow protect him from this... thing.

The man smirked wider, and Adam could see the sharp, glinting teeth in his mouth. He laughed—a low, dark sound that made Adam’s skin crawl. The man twirled, flowing across the back of the sofa like it was nothing, his claws trailing lazily along the cushions.

"I'm sure you know who I am," he purred, his voice dripping with amusement.

Adam shook his head violently, his voice growing frantic.

 “You’re not real!” he shouted, the words tumbling out in a panicked rush. "This isn’t real!"

But as the man continued to grin at him, as his tail swayed lazily back and forth, Adam’s certainty began to crack. Something was deeply wrong here. The world had shifted. And this man... this creature wasn’t just some figment of his imagination.

Adam’s heart raced. He tried to push himself up, but his limbs felt heavy, like they didn’t belong to him.

“No. This isn’t happening,” he muttered, but his voice wavered, unsure.

The man leaned down slightly, his red and gold eyes gleaming with amusement and something darker. “Oh, but it is. And it’s my work, Adam.”

Adam froze at the sound of his name. How did he know his name?

The man’s smile widened, as if he could hear the desperate beat of Adam’s heart. “Didn’t you wonder why everything changed, Adam? Why everything is... so perfect now?”

He paused, letting the words hang in the air. “You can stop pretending it’s all just a coincidence. I made it happen.”

Adam's breath caught in his throat. What did this man—this thing—want from him? What kind of nightmare was this?

But the man’s grin never faltered, and Adam knew, in the pit of his stomach, that whatever this was... it was only just beginning.

Adam's gaze followed the man, his heart pounding wildly as he watched him move around the room. The man—no, the devil—was casually strolling through the living room, as if this was his home. With a flick of his claws, he rearranged the decorations, and in a blink, the entire atmosphere of the room shifted. The lights twinkled brighter, the tree grew, and the space seemed to become even more beautiful—almost overwhelmingly so.

The man let out a pleased coo, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "I think the boys will like it better if the tree was bigger," he murmured, as if speaking to himself.

Adam’s mouth dropped open, and he stared in shock as the tree grew before his eyes, its branches stretching higher, its lights burning brighter. He could hardly believe it. This... this was insane.

The man—Lucifer—chuckled darkly, his voice smooth and lilting. "It’s not that bad."

His voice softened as he glanced over his shoulder, locking eyes with Adam. “I’m here to help.”

"Help?" Adam whispered shakily, like a mouse caught in a trap. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. His legs buckled beneath him, and he sank back onto the sofa, his mind spiraling out of control.

“You... the devil? Satan himself? Here to help?”

The man grinned wider, his blonde hair catching the soft glow of the lights.

 "Well, Satan isn't exactly me," he purred, stretching out the words like a cat toying with a mouse. "He’s a sin. But Abel's letter was so sweet and pure-hearted, I couldn’t let it go down into the ring of wrath. Not when there’s such potential."

Adam blinked, his brain struggling to catch up.

"Abel's... letter?" he stammered. What was happening? His mind couldn’t form a coherent thought.

The man—Lucifer, he reminded himself—took a few steps closer, his eyes gleaming red and gold, gleaming with an unsettling, almost hypnotic light.

“Besides," Lucifer added, his voice taking on a smug, almost amused tone, "I am the King of Hell. I outrank Satan, anyway.”

Adam felt the air leave his lungs. The King of Hell? He wanted to ask more, to demand answers, but before he could form the words, Lucifer turned to face him directly, his eyes locking onto Adam's with an intensity that made his chest tighten.

“I'm Lucifer, by the way,” he purred, his voice low and playful. “I’d prefer if you called me Lucifer.”

Another strangled laugh escaped Adam, his whole-body trembling.

"Of course," he gasped, “Lucifer! Like—like the archangel, right?”

Lucifer’s lips curled into a slow, satisfied smile, his tail flicking back and forth, almost like a cat’s.

"One and the same," he cooed. "The fallen angel."

Adam’s head swam as he tried to make sense of the madness. The devil. Lucifer. The King of Hell. The man standing before him had just made the Christmas tree grow, had rearranged his life without so much as a second thought. His world had been turned upside down in ways he couldn’t explain. The sweet smell of cookies, the beautiful decorations, the sudden appearance of presents, the perfect snow… it was all too much, and yet, here it was.

His mind was screaming for a way out, for an escape from the bizarre reality he found himself in. But Lucifer—the devil—was right there, standing in front of him, his demonic eyes shining brightly in the dim room, as though it were all just a game.

What the hell did he want with Adam?

What the fuck did he want with his boys?

Adam’s heart was racing in his chest, thudding painfully as Lucifer’s gaze never wavered. It was as though every movement the man made was calculated, predatory—a slow, deliberate dance that seemed to draw Adam in without him even realizing it.

Lucifer took a step closer, his movements fluid, effortless. His tail flicked in the air with a slight swish, as if it were playing with the tension that hung thick between them. He didn’t seem in a rush. He was enjoying this. Adam could feel his breath quicken as the air in the room seemed to get heavier with each second, each heartbeat, each breath.

“You’re so... tense, Adam,” Lucifer purred, his voice low and velvety, an unsettling warmth creeping into the words. He placed a hand on the back of the sofa, leaning in just a little closer, his red-and-gold eyes burning with amusement.

“Do I scare you, darling? You’re not usually this... wound up.”

Adam’s eyes widened in shock, and he took a small step back, trying to distance himself from the magnetic pull Lucifer seemed to exude.

"I—I don't know what you're talking about," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. He forced himself to stand tall, but his legs felt weak beneath him.

He wanted to run, wanted to scream, but his body refused to obey. Instead, he stood frozen, feeling the invisible weight of Lucifer’s gaze on him. The devil’s attention was like a heatwave, suffocating and inescapable.

Lucifer’s lips twitched into a smirk, clearly enjoying Adam’s discomfort.

“You’re trembling,” he observed, his voice a soft, honeyed tease. He took another step forward, his hand brushing lightly against the edge of Adam’s shoulder, his touch so gentle, so deliberate, it sent a shiver down Adam’s spine.

“Do you know how easy it would be to break that tension? To make you... feel good? I could show you what it’s like to let go...”

Adam’s breath hitched at the sudden proximity. Lucifer was so close now, close enough that Adam could feel the heat radiating off his body. The devil leaned in just enough for Adam to catch a glimpse of his sharp, pearly-white teeth, his smile wide and taunting. His scent was overwhelming—sweet, like cinnamon and smoke, but tinged with something darker, something intoxicating.

“You must know, Adam...” Lucifer murmured, his lips practically grazing Adam’s ear as he whispered. “You are beautiful when you’re frightened.”

He straightened up slowly, looking Adam dead in the eye. “But I can make you feel so much more than fear.”

Adam’s mind was spinning, trying desperately to piece everything together, to think through the madness, but it was impossible. His body felt like it was on fire, his heart pounding erratically in his chest. The fear was still there—so much fear—but something else stirred beneath it, something dangerous. His stomach twisted, part of him revolted, and yet, another part of him wanted to step closer, to reach out for Lucifer.

Lucifer seemed to sense the battle in Adam’s mind, and his grin deepened. He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against Adam’s jaw, his touch feather-light, yet it felt like fire.

“You’re not fooling anyone,” he said, his voice thick with amusement. “You want this, Adam. You’ve wanted it all along.”

Adam’s breath caught in his throat. He wanted to deny it, to scream that this wasn’t real, that he wasn’t... interested in whatever game Lucifer was playing. But the words wouldn’t come. His lips were dry, his mouth too parched to speak, and his pulse raced in his ears.

Lucifer’s fingers trailed down Adam’s neck, slow and deliberate, like a predator savouring his prey.

“You’ve been hunted for so long, haven’t you?” he whispered, voice smooth and coaxing. “Fighting against it. Denying it. But now... now, you’re mine. Just let me have you.”

Before Adam could protest, Lucifer’s other hand came up to cup his face, gently but firmly, forcing him to look up. Lucifer leaned in, his breath warm against Adam’s lips, his eyes burning with lustful hunger. It was happening, Adam thought, his heart thundering in his chest. He was being hunted. And Lucifer... Lucifer was the predator.

Lucifer's lips brushed against Adam’s, just a whisper of a touch, so close, so torturously close.

“You’ve been running from this for so long, Adam. But you can’t keep running forever.” He pressed just a little closer, his lips nearly brushing against Adam’s. “Let me show you how sweet surrender can be.”

The room seemed to spin. Adam felt his body tremble, his breath shallow. Every instinct screamed at him to pull away, to run, but Lucifer’s touch was like a drug—warm, soothing, and dangerous all at once.

Adam’s heart raced, and for the first time, he didn’t know what was real anymore.

With a startled squawk, Adam practically launched himself away from Lucifer. His eyes were wide, staring at the devil like he’d just seen a ghost—one with horns and a tail.

“Y-you... you go back now!” Adam stammered, pointing at the air like he could somehow banish Lucifer with his finger. “Go back to... um...”

Lucifer tilted his head, an innocent expression playing across his face.

“Hell?” he offered, his voice sing-song, as if he were helping Adam find the right words.

“Yes! That's right! Go back to hell!” Adam practically shouted, hands flailing in desperate motion. “You’re—you're not needed anymore!”

Lucifer snickered, a sound that sent a shiver up Adam’s spine. He slowly crept closer, his tail trailing behind him like a snake, flicking and twirling.

“Can’t do that,” he purred, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Adam let out a strangled sound from deep in his throat. “What... what do you mean you can’t?”

Lucifer inched closer, eyes gleaming like a predator sizing up its next meal, claws crossed behind him in a too-casual way.

“Well, you see... my contract is with little Abel, not you, Addie. So, I’m afraid you can’t send me back to Hell,” he teased, a wicked grin stretching across his face.

Adam blinked rapidly, once, twice, as if trying to make sense of the absurdity of what he was hearing.

“Contract?!” he finally managed to get out, his voice a mix of confusion and panic. He grabbed onto Lucifer’s ridiculously elaborate jacket, yanking him forward, his fingers trembling with frustration. “What the hell do you mean you have a contract with my baby?! What do you want with Abel?!”

Lucifer raised a single claw to tap lightly against Adam’s hand, his voice laced with amusement. “Relax, darling. I’m not going to harm Abel. I’m not heartless, you know. He’s just a kid.”

Adam's grip tightened, his frown deepening as he pulled Lucifer closer, hissing through his teeth. “Then what do you want with him?”

Before Adam could process the question, Lucifer leaned in with unnerving speed and brushed his lips against Adam’s ear, sending a spark of electricity down his spine. Adam gasped, startled, but when he looked around to see where Lucifer went, the devil had somehow managed to slink away, now lounging lazily across the couch as if it was his own throne.

“What the—?” Adam’s jaw dropped, blinking in disbelief. “What the fuck was that?!”

Lucifer purred, an arrogant glint in his eyes as he made himself comfortable.

“It’s just... let’s say a free sample,” he teased, his voice dripping with mischief, an eyebrow arched as he looked up at Adam.

Adam’s eyebrows shot up so high, they practically disappeared into his hairline. “A free sample for what, exactly?”

Lucifer’s smirk widened, his eyes glinting with far too much amusement.

“Well... for you, darling,” he purred, lazily curling his tail around the cushion, “Just a little taste of what’s to come.”

Lucifer’s smirk only deepened as he lounged across the sofa, his posture casual, but every movement was predatory, like a lion sprawled lazily after a successful hunt. His red and gold eyes glinted, amusement radiating from every inch of him. He ran a clawed finger lazily along the cushion, tapping to some unseen rhythm, as if the entire world was a game he was playing—Adam included.

Adam stood frozen, his heart hammering in his chest, his breath shallow. The air around them felt thick, as though the very room itself was holding its breath, waiting for the next move. Lucifer hadn’t even broken a sweat, but Adam could feel the tension crackling in the space between them.

“A free sample, Addie?” Lucifer purred, his voice smooth, dripping with an unsettling sweetness. “For you, of course.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, eyes never leaving Adam. “Let’s say... I’m offering you a chance to experience what it’s like to be touched by a real god.”

He tilted his head, the playful glint in his eyes darkening just a little. “I’m sure you’ve always wondered. Haven’t you?”

Adam's heart skipped a beat, and he staggered back a step, his fists clenching. The words hit harder than any punch could. He couldn’t understand this—didn’t want to understand it. A god? He wasn’t sure if Lucifer was taunting him, playing some sick joke, or if something else was happening entirely.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Adam demanded, his voice trembling despite his best attempt at bravado.

Lucifer didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leaned back further on the sofa, clearly enjoying watching Adam squirm. His tail flicked back and forth lazily, as if toying with the idea of pouncing.

“Everything in time, darling,” Lucifer purred, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. “You’ll understand soon enough. But you must know...”

His eyes locked onto Adam’s, smouldering with an intensity that sent a chill down his spine. “Once you’ve tasted it, once you’ve felt my touch... there’s no going back. And trust me, I’ll make you crave more. You will crave more.”

Adam’s stomach churned, his hands shaking. His mind screamed at him to get out, to run, but his body refused to move. Lucifer was closing in on him, his predatory smile widening with each step. Adam could almost hear the sound of his heart thundering in his ears, each beat louder than the last.

“Why?” Adam found his voice again, though it was barely above a whisper. He took a step back, still trying to make sense of it all. “Why him? Why Abel? What’s your deal with my kid?”

His throat tightened, and he couldn’t bring himself to look away from Lucifer’s glittering eyes. “You’re not taking him. I won’t let you.”

Lucifer’s eyes darkened slightly, but his smile never faltered. He propped himself up on his elbows, leaning in just enough to make Adam’s pulse quicken.

“Oh, darling,” Lucifer crooned, his voice low and intimate.

 “I told you. It’s a contract.” His eyes glinted with amusement, watching Adam’s confusion ripple across his face. “I’m not here to harm the little one, not in the way you think. His heart is pure, and I’m... quite fond of purity. But the real question is, Adam... what do you want?”

Adam’s breath caught in his throat, his mind scrambling. What was this? Some kind of twisted game? The whole situation felt like a nightmare that he couldn’t escape.

“What I want...?” he repeated slowly, unable to believe the words were coming out of his own mouth. “I just want you to leave. To get away from my family.”

Lucifer’s smirk deepened, and his eyes shone with amusement. “But you don’t really want that, do you, Addie?”

“You’ve been... curious, haven’t you? Wanting something more. More than just a man. More than just some mortal touch.” His tail flicked again, brushing lightly across the floor. “And I can give that to you. All you have to do is take it.”

Before Adam could respond, Lucifer moved in a flash, standing so close that Adam could feel the heat radiating from his body. His red-and-gold eyes bored into Adam’s, searching, probing, and something in them flickered, something dangerously inviting.

Lucifer’s lips parted just slightly as if he was about to say something—but instead, he leaned forward, his breath hot against Adam’s cheek.

“Don’t worry, Adam. I’ll wait for you.” His voice was soft, almost sweet, as he grazed his lips lightly against Adam’s ear. “After all, we’ve got all the time in the world.”

And then, just as quickly, Lucifer backed away, his smirk never leaving his face. He sauntered back to the sofa, stretching out lazily, his tail coiling behind him in a hypnotic swirl.

Adam’s heart was pounding in his chest, his body trembling as if he’d just run a marathon. He was dizzy, breathless, and confused.

What was this? He shook his head, trying to force his mind to clear. It was madness. All of it.

But Lucifer’s next words made the pit in his stomach deepen.

“Just remember, Addie,” Lucifer cooed, his voice low and dangerous. “The more you resist, the more you’ll want. I’ll make you beg for it. It’s only a matter of time.”

Running a hand down his face, Adam groaned. This had to be dream.

A really-really bad nightmare.

[sturniololuv08]

The Game Part One (Matt - PG)

Song: My Favourite Game - The Cardigans

Tumblr: @kirby0strombolli

"You could have any guy you wanted Nina." Her best friend rolled her eyes.

"I know but where is the fun in that." Nina shrugged loving a challenge.

"Everyone knows Christopher Sturniolo is untouchable." They giggled as they watched him from afar. He was standing with a group of his friends composed of the most popular guys in school.

"I think I could get his attention." Nina was determined. She was the most popular girl in school but somehow her and Chris' paths never crossed the way she so desperately wanted them to. Her friends tried to talk her down because Chris was in fact untouchable. But Nina knew boys were just a game. There was always a way to get them to fold.

"You gonna try tonight at the pool party?"

"Yeah. That's perfect." She sighed still eyeing Chris. He was laughing and throwing his head back exposing his neck. She licked her lips just thinking of all the bad things she'd love to do to him. School let out and she went straight home to start plotting. She threw her clothes all around her room looking for the perfect pieces. Desperate to stand out from any other girls who might shoot their shot with the school's most eligible bachelor. She settled on a dark sandy brown bikini. Her skin was already sun-kissed so she knew she would look good. Her rich brown hair fell in soft waves down to the crease of her breasts. The time didn't take long to pass and before she knew it her friends were picking her up.

"Okay, pop off." Her best friend Lizzie exaggeratedly snapped her fingers.

"I'm telling you guys, boys are just a game. It's light work." Nina knew how to pick apart a boy's mind and find out how to get her way. She always got what she wanted. SHe would love and leave them or she would date them for a while for fun. If she wanted a holiday boyfriend she could pull that off too. She knew what she wanted and this time it was the untouchable, un-date-able, Christopher Sturniolo. They pulled up to the house throwing the pool party. Everyone started looking their way and a few people greeted them.

"I'm going to see if Nate is here." Lizzie left quickly to find her fixation. Nina looked around for Chris but had no luck. She sighed thinking it was probably for the best so she didn't look desperate immediately going up to him. She walked into the house from the open back door and found her way to the kitchen full of alcohol to supply minors.

"Here." Someone handed her a drink. She smiled and took the cup without thinking of potential dangers. She took a sip. Everyone was her friend and everyone looked out for her because she was a nice popular person at their school. She included everyone but always naturally outshined them. There was some music playing to keep the background from being too quiet.

"Chris!" She heard someone yell and her ears perked up realizing he was there. She watched as he walked in with a few others behind him and started talking to a group of people. She wanted to shoot her shot perfectly. She waited watching the groups laugh together. After what felt like forever the groups dissipated and he was by himself getting a drink. Nina walked right up to him and started small talk.

"Hey." She smiled sweetly. She had to get him talking to figure out how to get what she wanted.

"Hi." He seemed almost shocked she was speaking to him.

"What are you drinking?" She peered into his cup and made sure her breasts were poking out in his direction.

"Water." He tilted the cup at her.

"That's... interesting." Truth was it was interesting to her. Chris had to be the biggest partier their school had so for him to drink water at a pool party on a Friday night was Interesting.

"I have to drive." He said offering up information she didn't ask for.

"Oh, that makes more sense." She giggled pretending to be interested in his reasons. He was quieter than she expected. "Do you want to go talk somewhere?" She thought maybe away from everyone he would open up more.

"Sure." He looked around as if he was looking for someone specific. Nina grabbed his hand and felt the cold rings on his fingers. She pulled him through the house and pretended to not see everyone staring at them. She took him downstairs and found a couch empty of people. The music was muffled and everyone else was upstairs partying so it was just them. "So..." He drew it out.

"Can I be honest with you?" This was her chance to shoot her shot but she knew to play it innocent.

"Yeah?" He was hesitant.

"I've liked you for a long time. I've wanted to tell you for a long time too; I just didn't know how." She looked away leading him to believe she was embarrassed by her feelings.

"You like me?" She looked at him with a fake shy smile.

"Yeah." She bit her lip. She could already tell she was winning him over. His eyes were looking all over her body. He snapped his eyes back up to hers and she saw a little gleam of lust in them.

"You are like super popular." He questioned her feelings.

"That doesn't mean anything to me." She fibbed. She knew her status in school mixed with Chris' status would make them a power couple, so to speak.

"I don't know what to say." He seemed timid. She thought it was cute. Nina always thought it was weird how Chris and her paths hadn't crossed naturally sooner but she liked the way he was doe-eyed about her.

"Don't say anything." She moved in and kissed him. He took to her tongue immediately and swirled his across the inside of her cheek. She was winning. She was getting all of Chris' attention. She straddled him and started grinding her hips back and forth on his baggy jeans. He was already bulging to try and touch her skin. She entangled her fingers in his hair and continued to kiss him. Her skin was on fire. She had wanted this for so long. Chris was perfect. Every time he rubbed his fingers over her bare shoulders she got goosebumps. 

She didn't just want Chris for his status or something physical. She wanted to be invested in him. She had watched him from afar for so long that she had delusions of them being a happy couple doing couple things. She imagined herself wearing his jersey on lacrosse game days. She imagined him lying in bed with her and playing with her hair. She imagined them watching and talking about her favorite movie, The Perks of Being a Wallflower. She didn't want to be railed into next week but instead wanted to make love for a long slow time. As if on cue to ruin her mood his phone started buzzing. He reluctantly pulled away from the kiss. He typed away on his phone and set it on the couch. He looked up with sad eyes. Nina knew it meant their time was over.

"I have to go. Chris needs me to take him home." Nina stood up fast.

"Chris?" She questioned.

"Yeah, my brother, Chris." He said like it was common knowledge.

"Oh, that - that's cool." Nina wasn't sure what to say. She didn't want to acknowledge her mistake because then she would have to admit defeat to herself. He stood up and ran his fingers through his hair.

"But I'll see you around." He looked unsure of how to approach her or the situation.

"Yeah." She smiled sweetly. He went up the stairs and left her standing still confused. If that wasn't Chris but his brother how was she supposed to get close to Chris now? There was no way for her to get everything she wanted now. Everything was ruined. She had lost her favorite game.

[allthemeniveloved]

It Will Come Back - Part 6

Summary: As the tension within the gang at Shady Belle grows heavier, you confront John about your fears for both of your safety and the dangerous path Dutch is leading everyone down.

wc: 2.9k

ao3 link

a/n: This is definitely a "bridge" chapter, so a little more fast paced and shorter, apologies if it feels rushed. I plan to write my ass off tonight and then schedule the next few chapters to be posted so I don't have to stress myself out going into the holiday weekend. Stay tuned! <3

The ride back to Clemens Point was peaceful, the calm of the weekend still lingering between you and John. The memories of quiet moments by the waterfall and the easy laughter you shared made the looming reality of camp feel distant, almost unreal. As you crossed into the clearing, the usual hum of the gang’s activity greeted you, but something felt different—tenser. John barely had time to dismount before Dutch appeared, striding toward him with purpose, his expression sharp and full of determination.

“There you are, Marston,” Dutch called, his tone brisk as his eyes flicked to you for the briefest of moments before locking onto John. “No time for rest. The Braithwaite mansion is ready to be hit, and we ride now.” Without waiting for a reply, Dutch clapped a hand on John’s shoulder, already pulling him toward the group of men gathering their weapons and mounts.

You stayed frozen for a moment, still holding Dahlia’s reins, your stomach twisting as you watched John get swept up into the chaos without so much as a chance to catch his breath. “Dutch, we just got back—” you started, but the older man waved you off with a dismissive gesture.

“This is the moment we’ve been waiting for,” he said, not even looking back at you as he continued toward his horse. “We need every man for this.”

John gave you a fleeting glance, his lips parting like he wanted to say something, but the urgency of Dutch’s call left no time. Before you could even protest, he swung back into the saddle, sparing one last look at you as he joined the others.

A heavy weight settled in your chest as you stood there, helpless, watching him ride off into the trees with the rest of the gang. Your mind swirled with worry, the image of John charging into the unknown—into danger—haunting you. The thought of losing him, of something going wrong, made your stomach churn, and though you tried to steady your breathing, the fear wouldn’t leave. You paced anxiously near the edge of camp, your heart racing with every passing minute as you waited for any sign of their return, praying silently that he’d come back to you unscathed.

-

The acrid stench of smoke still clung to the air as the gang rode hard away from the burning Braithwaite mansion, its roaring flames lighting up the night like a second sun. The cries of Miss Braithwaite echoed faintly in the distance, mingling with the hoofbeats pounding through the muddy roads. The job had gone south fast—what was supposed to be a final blow to the family that had crossed the Van der Linde gang turned into a fiery spectacle that left no doubt the Pinkertons would be close behind.

“Damn it, Dutch,” Arthur muttered under his breath as he rode alongside John, his revolver still drawn and his eyes scanning the treeline for trouble. “You really think this was the smart play?”

Dutch, riding ahead with Hosea, twisted in his saddle, his face lit by the faint glow of the distant fire. “Sometimes, Arthur,” he said sharply, “you have to make a statement. The Braithwaites thought they could cross us, and now they’ll think twice before anyone else does.”

Arthur scoffed, but his attention shifted back to the road as he tucked his revolver into its holster. Riding just in front of Lenny, Bill, Javier, and Micah, John’s jaw was set tight, his gaze flicking back toward the mansion every so often to reassure himself that no one was following.

“They’re gonna be after us now,” John muttered, his voice low. “Law, Raiders, whoever’s left of the Braithwaites—we can’t stay at Clemens Point.”

“Dutch knows it,” Arthur replied, though the weight of the situation settled heavily on his chest.

-

The sound of hoofbeats breaking through the dense evening air pulled your attention to the edge of camp, and your heart leapt at the sight of John riding in with the others. His shirt was smeared with soot and dirt, his face streaked with sweat, but he was upright, whole, and alive. Relief flooded through you as you rushed toward him, barely giving him a chance to dismount before you threw your arms around him. He held you tightly, his breath warm against your hair as he murmured, “I’m alright, darlin’. I’m alright.” His voice was steady, but you could feel the tension in his shoulders, the weight of whatever had happened still clinging to him.

He pulled back slightly, his hands resting on your arms as he looked down at you, his expression softening at your worried gaze. “It got messy,” he admitted, his voice low but firm. “The Braithwaites didn’t go down easy. They had people everywhere, fightin’ to the bitter end. We torched the place, but… there was more blood than Dutch let on.” He glanced away for a moment, his jaw tightening, before his eyes met yours again. “But I’m here, and I ain’t hurt. Just… tired.” His thumb brushed lightly against your arm as he tried to ease your concern.

You hesitated, your voice soft but firm as you looked at him, worry etched across your face. “John, I don’t like the things Dutch has been askin’ y'all to do lately—it feels like we’re crossin’ lines we shouldn’t be. Inserting ourselves where we don't belong."

John sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked at you, his voice low but steady. “I get it, darlin’, but Dutch—he’s got a plan, a way outta all this mess, and we just gotta trust him a little longer.”

You nodded slowly, the tension in your chest tightening as you tried to meet John’s earnest gaze. “Alright,” you murmured, your voice softer than you intended. “If that's what you think, I’ll follow your lead.” But even as the words left your lips, doubt crept into your mind, twisting uncomfortably in the pit of your stomach. Something about Dutch’s plans had been unsettling you for weeks—the way his schemes seemed to grow riskier, more reckless, as if he were chasing something he couldn’t quite catch. You wanted to trust John, to believe in his unwavering faith, but deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this path was leading you both somewhere you might not come back from.

-

By the time the gang reached the swamp, the adrenaline from the night had worn thin, replaced by exhaustion and unease. The route was slow and winding, the horses uneasy as they picked their way through the misty bog. It wasn’t until the broken silhouette of Shady Belle appeared through the haze that Dutch finally signaled for everyone to stop.

“There it is,” he announced, his voice carrying through the night. “Our new home.”

You stared at the crumbling mansion, its windows broken and vines creeping up its sagging walls. The place reeked of abandonment and decay, its shadow looming over the swamp like a ghost of better days.

Arthur rode up beside Dutch, shaking his head. “This is what you had in mind? Looks more like a tomb than a camp.”

Dutch turned to him, a sharp glint in his eye. “It’s hidden, Arthur. Out of the way, quiet. We’ll make it work.”

John sighed heavily as he dismounted, helping you down before tying up the horses. “Don’t look like we’ve got much of a choice,” he muttered under his breath, his hand brushing against yours briefly as you both turned to assess the place.

Arthur pushed open a door, his revolver raised as he scanned the dim room.

“Squatters,” he muttered, his gaze falling on the scattered belongings and rotting food on the floor.

“Least they’re gone,” John said, nudging a broken chair aside with his boot.

“They didn’t leave it like this on their own,” you said quietly, pointing to the bloodstains smeared on the walls.

The group exchanged uneasy glances, but there was no time to dwell. Room by room, the gang secured the mansion, dragging debris outside and clearing a space for the camp.

By the time the sun began to rise, the worst of the mess had been dealt with, though the place still felt far from safe.

As everyone gathered near the front of the mansion, Dutch stood on the steps, his figure framed by the foggy dawn.

“This,” he said, his voice carrying over the group, “is not what I’d call ideal. But it’s what we have—for now. We’ll rebuild here, lay low, and plan our next move. They may think they’ve pushed us to the edge, but they’ll see… the Van der Linde gang isn’t so easily broken.”

The gang murmured their agreement, though the unease was palpable. Arthur stood off to the side, muttering something under his breath, while John lingered near you, his presence steady. As the others scattered to unpack and settle in, John turned to you, his eyes searching yours. “You alright?” he asked quietly, his tone softer now that the chaos had died down.

You nodded, though the exhaustion of the night weighed heavily on you. “I’ll be fine,” you said, offering a small smile.

His hand brushed against yours, a fleeting but reassuring touch. “We’ll make it work,” he said, echoing the sentiment Dutch had tried to inspire—but his words carried more weight, because they were for you alone.

This wasn’t home, but for now, it was all the gang had. And as you looked out at the dense swamp surrounding the mansion, the reality of the road ahead began to set in.

-

The move to Shady Belle brought no relief, only a deeper sense of unease that seemed to cling to the gang like the swamp’s heavy mist. The decaying mansion, with its creaking floors and eerie silence, felt more like a tomb than a refuge. Everyone was on edge, the relentless pressure of the Pinkertons and the gang’s dwindling fortunes gnawing at whatever unity remained. The turning point came with the grisly death of Kieran Duffy. When his mutilated body was dragged into camp, tied to his horse, it shattered what little sense of security anyone still clung to. The haunting image of Kieran’s lifeless form, a brutal message from the O’Driscolls, left the gang shaken. Even the usual bravado from the likes of Bill and Micah faltered in the face of such savagery, and for a brief moment, the infighting paused as the gang mourned one of their own, however quietly. But the fear lingered—if Kieran wasn’t safe, who was?

As the weeks dragged on, Dutch’s plans became more erratic, his once-charismatic confidence feeling more like desperation. Angelo Bronte’s dealings, initially promising a path to wealth and safety, proved only to deepen the gang’s entanglement with dangerous, powerful people. Bronte’s betrayal stung sharply—handing John, Arthur, and the others over to the law during a supposed “opportunity” shook Dutch’s trust in anyone outside the gang. But instead of reevaluating his approach, Dutch doubled down, spinning grandiose tales of salvation through bigger and riskier schemes. The trolley station job in Saint Denis found its way into Dutch's psyche, a chaotic, poorly executed heist that left innocent people dead and brought even more heat on the gang. Each step forward felt like walking deeper into quicksand, and the growing tension within the group became harder to ignore. Whispers of dissent began to ripple through camp, and even those loyal to Dutch couldn’t help but wonder if the man they followed was starting to lose his way.

John’s loyalty to Dutch had always been steadfast, but the cracks were beginning to show. Over the past few weeks, he’d watched Dutch grow more erratic, his plans becoming more reckless and his speeches less inspiring, more desperate. Late at night, as the swamp around Shady Belle hummed with the sounds of crickets and frogs, John found himself lying awake, staring at the ceiling, questioning everything. But even with his doubts, John clung to the idea that maybe, just maybe, Dutch could still turn it all around.

It was you who broke the silence one evening as you sat together in the quiet of your shared room upstairs. “John,” you began, your voice quiet but firm, “we can’t keep living like this. Dutch isn’t the same, and he’s draggin’ us all down with him. We need to leave—while we still can.”

He looked at you sharply, his brow furrowing as his grip tightened on the edge of his seat. “Leave?” he repeated, his voice low and hesitant. “Where the hell would we even go? You think Dutch is just gonna let us walk away?”

You reached out, your hand resting on his arm as you met his uncertain gaze. “We don’t have to tell him, we don't have to tell anybody. We just go."

John’s jaw tightened as he looked at you, his voice low but sharp. “Ain’t you just a little ungrateful for what Dutch has given you? You’d still be back in that O'Driscoll hellhole if it weren’t for him, or worse."

You shot him a glare, your tone firm as you replied, “I’m not ungrateful, John, but what he gave me back then doesn’t excuse the things he’s doing now—you know that as well as I do, and it's insulting that you'd suggest otherwise!" Your cheeks were burning up, your heart rate erratic as your frustration threatens to boil over.

John exhaled sharply, his jaw still tight as he avoided your gaze. “Alright, fine—I shouldn’t’ve said it. But damn it, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

You reached for his hand, your voice trembling but full of conviction as you whispered, “John, I love you, and I can’t keep watching this life tear you apart—we can leave, start fresh, and finally have the future we deserve.” His eyes searched yours, torn between the weight of his loyalty and the hope shining in your words, as you tightened your grip, pleading softly, “Please, come with me.”

John froze, his breath hitching as your words sank in, his usual calm unraveling into something raw and uncertain. His eyes widened slightly, flicking between yours as if searching for a hint of jest, but all he found was sincerity. “You… want that? With me?” he asked, his voice low and tinged with disbelief, like he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the idea. The vulnerability in his tone, so unlike his usual confidence, made your chest ache. You brought your hand up to run your fingers along his jaw, grounding truth into your answer.

He sighed, shaking his head as if trying to push away the thought, but you saw the flicker of agreement in his eyes. “I don’t know, darlin’. Leaving, it’s… dangerous.”

“Staying is dangerous,” you pressed gently, your voice softening. “And you know it.”

For a long moment, he sat there, his jaw working as he weighed your words. Finally, he nodded, though his expression remained grim. “Alright,” he said quietly. “We’ll start thinkin’ on it. But if we’re gonna do this, we gotta be smart about it. No mistakes.”

You squeezed his arm, a glimmer of hope sparking in your chest despite the risk. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

John didn’t smile, but his hand covered yours, a silent promise that he’d see this through—for you to finally be free. “And for the record,” John murmured, his voice low and filled with his usual tender warmth as his hand moved to cup your cheek, “there’s nothin’ I want more than a future with you, too."

-

The next morning, you awoke to the faint rustle of camp already bustling around you, the space beside you in John’s bedroll cold and empty. A sinking feeling settled in your chest as Miss Grimshaw passed by and casually mentioned that John had ridden out early on one of Dutch’s errands, his return time uncertain.

Later, you sat on a stool in Sadie’s corner of the mansion, her fingers deftly weaving your hair into a neat braid as the smell of coffee from your mug and damp wood lingered in the air. “I just don’t know what we’re doing anymore,” you said quietly, breaking the silence, your voice barely rising above the soft creak of the old floorboards. “Every plan Dutch has feels like it’s getting us deeper into trouble. It’s like he’s trying to chase something we can’t catch, and I’m scared we’re all going to pay for it.” Your hands fidgeted in your lap as you stared out at the foggy swamp, your chest tight with unease.

Sadie hummed thoughtfully, her hands pausing for a moment before she resumed braiding. “You ain’t the only one who’s worried,” she said, her tone calm but sharp, like the edge of a blade. “Dutch talks big, but it don’t feel the same anymore, does it? Here’s the thing, though—you don’t owe him every piece of yourself. You got people who care about you, and you gotta think about them—and about you.” Her fingers moved steadily, the braid coming together as she spoke. “When the time comes, you do what you need to do, and don’t you feel bad about it for a second. Loyalty’s a fine thing, but it don’t mean throwin’ yourself into the fire for some bastard who’s already lost their way.” Her words hit you like a jolt of clarity, and as she tied off the braid, you couldn’t help but wonder if the time to make those choices was coming faster than you’d hoped.

[mattyriddlegf]

The Stupid Closet (27)

Hello everyone! Happy Sunday release day. The countdown is officially on, after this chapter there’s 9 chapters left of this story🥹 I can’t believe it!

Thank you for your continued support, enjoy!

—————-

You light your cigarette and take a drag of it immediately.

“What did he say or do?” Theo asks quietly, standing beside you.

You look over at him, “it doesn’t matter Theo.” Your gaze lingers like you want to tell him but you don’t.

he takes a moment, wanting to know but not wanting to push you.

“Well whatever it was, he’s stupid for it.” He pauses before continuing, “You asked him not to fight the guy didn’t you?”

“How’d you know?”

“I know you. Remember when I punched Ma-” he pauses until you nod “anyways, you were so pissed at me. Even when I knew I was losing you to him, I held back because I knew you’d hate me”

‘Losing you to him’ God that stung a little.

“God this whole thing is just so frustrating” You say through gritted teeth.

“Are you for sure that it’s over between you two? You went through so much…” He trails off.

“Not even a question.” You say simply.

He watches you for a second, “You’re taking this really well…”

“Yeah well you weren’t in the room when we talked” You respond almost laughing. It was quite funny if you think about it, Mattheo said he loved you and begged you not to leave him yet he slut shames you and suggests going back to hating each other so easily. Maybe he never really loved you in the first place..

You can tell Theo wants to know what was said but he doesn’t ask again, respecting your boundaries.

“Thanks for coming up here, I just…I couldn't handle Pansy right now.” You admit.

“No problem, I’m happy I could help…for a while I thought we’d never be cool again” He shrugs. You smile at this, it was nice that he could be here for you. It always seemed like it was Theo or…Mattheo. One or the other could be by your side but never both at the same time.

“Can I be alone for a bit? I promise I’ve calmed down” You ask nicely.

“Uh sure, if you need anything I’ll be at the Slytherin house” He pitifully smiles before leaving you alone with your thoughts.

How could you be so normal about breaking up with someone you loved so fucking much? You didn’t feel like crying or lost just…defeated.

It had all happened so fast that maybe you hadn’t processed it yet but it still felt weird. It is what it is. You couldn’t let this affect your finals coming up and you were so excited to go to the Malfoy Manor over the holidays, you wouldn’t let this ruin it. You couldn’t.

Half of the people at Hogwarts have whispered about you and Mattheo since the very beginning and it had never bothered you or even crossed your mind but what if they were right? You and him were never going to last, you were just fooling yourself.

You throw your cigarette butt down before stepping on it and leaving the tower. You didn’t want to think about this anymore.

You walk back through the castle, it being completely empty since it’s dinner time now. Everyone would be in the great hall which allowed you to walk freely without disturbances.

“Thanks for the clothes pile you threw all over my floor” You hear a voice, hiding off to the side.

You find Mattheo sitting there, drawing in his notebook as normal.

“No problem, glad I could help” You roll your eyes as you continue walking but subconsciously slow your pace.

“Good talk” he retorts.

You freeze, pursing your lips before turning towards him.

“Fine, you wanna talk? Let’s talk since it didn’t settle the first time.” You walk up to him without letting him get a word in, “You acting as if nothing happened proves to me all I need to know. You’re a narcissistic asshole who has never loved anyone in his entire life and it shows.”

You stop and he just stares at you with dead eyes, not saying a word.

“Good enough of a talk for you?” You shake your head, “just leave me alone.” You add before staring into his eyes for a few more moments. Mattheo clenches his jaw as you tear away your gaze and walk away.

You walk faster than before, beelining to your dorm. When you walk in, you slam the door shut and immediately start crying out of rage. You still weren’t sad, you were frustrated. All of this over some stupid joke that your jerk ex from 3 years ago said.

You cover your face with your hands sitting on the floor. God you had never loved anyone more than you had with Mattheo, in fact…you weren’t even sure if it had been love before Mattheo.

You can’t let this wreck you. This entire year has not gone the way you imagined but you weren’t going to let this determine your grades or the rest of your year. It was just one more semester of Hogwarts before you never had to see Mattheo again…at least regularly. You could do this.

You didn’t want to be the person that broke down after a break up. You had never been that girl and you were never going to be. If you ignored it and pushed it away, it couldn’t do you any harm.

You sit on the floor, your tears drying on your face as you look around the room. You sit in the silence for a minute (more like 15 minutes) before getting up and going in the shower, washing everything off. All of it.

You do your nightly routine without any sound, before you get into bed. It’s only about 8:45pm when you turn off your lamp, trying to fall asleep.

“Honey I want you to meet someone really quick, I used to work with him before he got promoted to Head Auror” Some grown man in a suit says to you, pulling your arm in until you stop in your tracks, seeing a grown Mattheo also in a nice suit.

“Mattheo” You part your lips slightly.

“Hi” he says, just as surprised to see you, “It’s been a while…”

“You two know each other?” The man beside you asks, you were gathering that he was your partner.

“We uh…we went to Hogwarts together” You say still staring at Mattheo, the eye contact burning.

“Oh, nice! Well I’ll let you two catch up while I grab us drinks, Mattheo you want anything?”

“No thanks, I’m good” Mattheo mentions as the man walks off, leaving you two alone in the middle of a ballroom. This was some sort of gala.

“Hi” He says again, sheepishly.

“Hi” you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, “How’ve you been?”

“Good, good” He nods his head, “It’s been what…12 years?”

“Uh yeah…” You look around for a moment, seeing the man talking to someone at the drink table.

“I didn’t know you were married to Jamie…he’s a good guy”

“Oh sure…” You pause, “Are you with anyone?”

“Oh remember Catherine Newbourne? She was a year older than us? We’re engaged…”

“Oh!” You raise your eyebrows, “Engaged, Mattheo that’s great. I’m so happy for you” You smile lightly, not quite meaning what you say.

“Yeah, thank you. You know it’s funny…I always thought it would be you” Mattheo nonchalantly says, shrugging.

“What?”

“Well…to be completely honest, I’ve never loved anyone like I loved you”

“Mattheo, I-” You start until Jamie walks back up with your drink.

You open your eyes, waking up. The room was dark and Pansy was asleep in her bed. Your alarm clock reads 12:38am.

Fuck.

tag list: @helendeath @mayamonroem @hatakemrs @swamp-box @iamdnb @cindyss @gillybear17 @princessluvssleep @feistyfox47 @malydiavsss @schaebickel @anime-tomicfox

[locallygrowndaikon]

Post therapy holiday short story about my ocs that i totally didnt just run through grammarly once and called it a day under cut!

“Woah,” Lark breathed out as he squints at the light reflecting off of the fields of white, “I’ve never seen it snow here in prairie before.”

The once-green fields were now covered in snowfall. The sun still shines down as it hangs in the clear sky but instead of warmth, the air still felt cold. Kari sifts their hand through the snow. It was still powdery, still fresh.

“That’s so cool!” Ness squeals in awe before running past Lark and throwing herself into the ground. Kari follows Eira as she walks up to Ness who’s rolled onto her back and started making snow angels.

A disgruntled voice comes from behind. “It’s too cold here now. The grass was better. And why are you wearing a sunhat in the cold? That’s weird,” Beefy releases a string of complaints as he stops next to Lark, looking down at Ness.

“It’s for the aesthetic! Not that you would know anything about that,” She throws back as she sits up while grabbing her hat defensively. The metaphorical camera pans to Beefy’s god-awful outfit consisting of too many expensive cosmetics thrown together. He just scoffs at Ness’ glare.

Ness stands up and brushes snow off of her pants. Beefy has his arms crossed as Ness approaches him. She lifts one of the capes Beefy has stacked up on him before she pulls out a white camera.

“Wha- Hey!” Beefy sputters as Ness examines the camera.

“I’ll be borrowing this, thanks,” Ness deadpans before taking off and flying away.

“DO YOU HOW MUCH THATS WORTH GET BACK HERE,” Beefy yells as he chases after Ness, leaving Lark, Eira, and Kari standing there in silence.

Lark takes a few steps forward and looks back with a smile that one would put up when dealing with young rowdy moths. “Sorry guys, I’m going to go make sure those two don’t get lost. I’ll be right back,” Lark says then runs off after Beefy, leaving just Eira and Kari standing in silence.

Kari kicks at the snow. “Lark knows some weird people, huh.”

Eira lets a small laugh at the comment. “Beefy scares me sometimes,” she replies. Kari silently agrees in their mind. They did not sign up for meeting Beefy when Lark had become their friend.

“I think the snow is pretty,” Eira changes the subject. Kari looks over at her.

“Really?”

“It reminds me of Valley of Triumph. I like the snow,” She says. Kari looks away. She did say that a long time ago when they were younger, didn’t she?

Kari kneels down in the snow without a word. Eira looks over Kari’s shoulder as they start scooping up snow in their hands and pressing it together into a small pile.

“Can I borrow your hair clip?” Kari asks, holding out their hand, waiting for Eira to agree, which Eira does. She puts the clip in their hand without much of a reaction. Kari flips the clip over in their hands. They had fiddled with this clip in their hands the first time they found it too. It really has been a while since then. Eira must’ve held it with so much guilt during the time they separated too.

Kari glances at Eira for a second to check her expression. It’s blank. She’s still looking at Kari, confused. Kari goes back to pressing snow together with the clip in their hand. They hope Eira doesn’t see their expression falter at the sour thoughts and picks up two small stones and sticks them in the crooked lump of snow they’ve made before sticking the harmony clip on too.

“It’s you,” Kari takes on a mischievous smile as they present the little wonky pile of snow that barely resembles a snowman. The only it has similarity to Eira that it has is the harmony clip that sits on the side of it. Eira covers her mouth as she chuckles and kneels next to it.

Kari watches as Eira makes her own little pile of snow, her pile becoming more of a flat pile than the one Kari made.

“Can I borrow the leaves on your antlers?” Eira asks, similar to how Kari asked earlier with her hand pointing at Kari’s withered antlers. Kari lowers their head and lets Eira pluck two leaves. She sticks the leaves on her little snow pile.

“It looks like bunny ears,” Kari notes. Eira smiles.

“It’s supposed to be you,” She says as she adds a bit more snow to the base of her Kari snowman, which also barely resembles Kari. The two take a seat back to admire their little snowman copies of each other. Kari wants to laugh at how bad the snow lumps look.

It’s quiet as the two sit there with their snow versions. Eira is the first to break the silence. “It’s nice, spending time with you again,” she says with her eyes on the snow. “I missed it.”

Kari’s expression falls. “I’m sorry.”

Eira looks up in shock at the sudden change in Kari’s tone. “I- No, it’s-“ she stutters, still taken aback from the sudden apology, “No, I didn’t mean that… that I’m talking about how we hurt each other, I just- I just think the moment we’re having right now is nice. I’m just glad we’re here together right now.”

“Oh,” Kari answers, still focusing on the snow rather than Eira.

Eira pulls her knees to her chest. “I’m glad we’re here now,” she repeats.

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad you’re still here with me after everything.”

Kari hums in response. Eira scoots closer to them.

“You’re still hung up in the past,” Eira states.

Kari grimaces. Eira didn’t sugarcoat it or talk around it. “It’s hard not to be. It’s hard not to think about it when I’m with you. Hatred is what most of my memories of you are. It doesn’t feel like long since we’ve become… friends again.”

Eira doesn’t say anything immediately. She sticks out her hand and pokes the snowman Kari made.

“I feel scared when I look at you sometimes too,” she returns. “I’m not used to this yet.” Kari keeps their face flat as they listen.

Eira continues to talk. “I hope it will change one day, so let’s keep making new memories together.”

Kari tries to wear a smile, hoping Eira doesn’t see through it. “Let’s keep making the good memories.”

Eira gives a similar smile back. Kari pokes at the snowmen too.

“Our snowmen copies of each other are kind of ugly,” Kari comments. Eira gives a real huff of laughter at this.

“I guess so,” Eira says fondly with a smile that doesn’t look as strained as before. Kari finds that their own smile is a bit easier to wear too.

Footsteps crunching in the snow sound behind them. Lark leans over the two sitting skykids. “I’m back, what are you guys do-“

Lark is promptly interrupted by Beefy being shoved into him and Ness pushing Beefy off to the side. Beefy regains footing and buts back in but Ness continues to try and push him.

“Are you making snowmen-“ Ness starts.

“-without us??” Beefy cuts in, pushing Ness back away. Ness screams for Lark to do something about the hooligan on the loose as Lark proceeds to ignore the chaos.

Lark sits down next to Eira. “Oh, these little guys look like you two!” He points out.

“Barely,” Kari smiles. Lark laughs in response. He starts lumping together snow and makes a small snowman with two coherent bolls of snow stacked on top of each other.

“That can be me then,” Lark proclaims as he dusts his hands free from snow. Kari squints at Lark’s snowman. It looks good for a snowman, but in terms of resembling Lark himself, Kari gives it 0 points. At least theirs and Eira’s sort of have their defining features. Lark catches on Kari’s judging stare. “It looks close enough to me,” he shrugs. Kari continues to disagree silently.

Ness finally pushes Beefy over and bends over Lark. “Oh, let me add myself in too! I'm joining the snowman gang,” she declared as Beefy held his knee while he limped over, cursing something about how Ness should stop aiming for the knees.

“What? Snowman gang?” Beefy asks as he finally catches up, “I bet my snowman’s gonna look the best.”

“There’s no way,” Ness states with a dead stare into Beefy. Lark definitely let out a sigh somewhere in the background. Kari personally finds the whole situation entertaining to watch as Beefy tries to make the largest pile of snow before sticking his party hat and sunglasses into the pile and calling it a day. Ness just makes a little snow bunny as she stares at Beefy’s “snowman” in disbelief.

Kari scoots closer to Eira as Beefy tries to preach about why his snowman is the best while Ness has never looked more distressed and Lark just acts as if this were another day. The Eira snow lump and the Kari snow pile were now surrounded by other friends' snowmen. Kari smiles without even realizing it.

Their snowmen look a lot less lonely now.

[ve1vet-cake]

Family Line

MDNI‼️

Cw: abuse mention, child neglect mention, scarring, dealing with trauma

Character: Ren ( @14dayswithyou )

Summary: Ren walks down memory lane and his family line

Based on:

My father never talked a lot He just took a walk around the block 'Til all his anger took a hold of him And then he'd hit

The man breathed out, eyes focusing on the mist of condensation leaving his lips. The cold months always hit him in a way he couldn't describe. They made him remember the lingering feeling of loneliness and coldness within him. Without his sun, his angel, he couldn't comprehend the warmth others felt. His eyes shifted to the sandbox while he shook his head so his hair would hide his face a little from the cold.

He remembered those happy memories with them. The way they smiled at him, giving him the feeling of belonging somewhere.

A feeling of home.

A feeling he hadn't felt with his family.

My mother never cried a lot She took the punches, but she never fought

Oh how he pitied the circumstances he was brought up in. All that pain, all the pressure.

Being unwanted.

I say they're just the ones who gave me life But I truly am my parents' child

With a sigh he looked at his hands, the scarred skin looking back at him. The pad of his thumb traced along the lines on his hand. The numbness of his mind resonated well with that of his body he thought.

Scattered 'cross my family line I'm so good at telling lies That came from my mother's side Told a million to survive Scattered 'cross my family line God, I have my father's eyes But my sister's when I cry I can run, but I can't hide From my family line

His light blue eyes shifted to the swings. With a slight huff he got up, moving towards them, his fingers caressed the metal frame of the swings.

He wondered what would have happened if his Angel had had the chance to respond to him back then. Would they have had their happily ever after already?

With a sigh he closed his eyes.

Sometimes he wondered what would have happened if he wasn't like.. this.

Broken. Abused. A scorch mark on Angel's perfect world. Would they love him? Love him even after knowing what he was?

He didn't even realise that his thoughts were a product of hurt. Of trauma.

All because of his father. If you could even call him that. Competitiveness, abuse, being unwanted.. all that were the core components of his upbringing.

Why was he born?

Why did he have to endure such pain?

His entire childhood had he questioned everything.

He closed his eyes, balling his hands into fists at the memories of what should have been his home.

Rage bubbled within him.

It's hard to put it into words How the holidays will always hurt I watch the fathers with their little girls And wonder what I did to deserve this How could you hurt a little kid? I can't forget, I can't forgive you 'Cause now I'm scared that everyone I love will leave me

"████████?"

Oh, all that I did to try to undo it All of my pain and all your excuses I was a kid but I wasn't clueless (Someone who loves you wouldn't do this) All of my past, I tried to erase it But now I see, would I even change it? Might share a face and share a last name, but (We are not the same)

He opened his eyes, slowly turning to meet the eyes of the one he had fallen for. The one person who made all that anger and numbness go away.

Because when he met them, life was worth living.

And he would make sure they wouldn't have to end up like him.

He would make everything right.

He would treat them right.

"You... Remember..?"

They won't be able to leave.

[tab00-t33f]

“Boundaries of Obsession” (“A Dangerous Devotion” cont.)

(Bruno Bucciarati x Obsessive!LaSquandra!Reader)

Happy holidays to all!! I appreciate all the love on my last Bruno fic! I got some sweet requests to continue this dizzying relationship between Bruno and you! Consider this my gift to you guys :3!!

Definitely feeling this turn into a series… I don’t know what path I want to take.. I’m a sucker for an angsty ending, but I’ll be good and listen to yall’s suggestions (ᵕ—ᗜ—) lemme know if ya wanna suffer, maybe i’ll even write and alternate ending for those who want something sweet

———————————————

Bruno knew this night would come sooner or later.

Ever since the skirmish between Passione and La Squadra Esecuzioni, you had taken it upon yourself to blur the line between rivals and something far more dangerous. You were relentless, appearing at odd times and places, always finding a way to slink into his presence despite the danger it posed to both of you.

Tonight, you waited for him in the dark.

Bruno stepped into his office cautiously, the tension of the day still fresh in his mind. The soft click of the door locking behind him gave him a brief sense of peace, but then he felt it: a presence.

“You always forget to check the corners,” your voice purred from the shadows.

His eyes snapped toward you, seated casually in his armchair as though you had every right to be there. The dim light from a streetlamp outside cast your silhouette in sharp relief, a twisted halo of audacity surrounding you.

“How did you get in here?” Bruno’s voice was calm, but there was an edge to it.

You leaned back, crossing your legs. “Getting in wasn’t the hard part. Waiting for you—that took patience.”

He walked toward you slowly, his Stand ready to manifest if needed. “You’re playing a dangerous game, showing up here. If anyone saw you—”

“Don’t worry,” you interrupted, smiling. “Your little famiglia is none the wiser. I’m only here for you.”

Bruno’s frown deepened. “You shouldn’t be here at all. We’re on opposite sides, and you know what happens to traitors in this business.”

You stood, closing the distance between you in a way that made his pulse quicken—not from fear, but from the undeniable magnetism you seemed to exude. “Traitors?” you echoed softly. “Is that what I am to you? Because I see myself as something else entirely. I’m the one person who understands you, Bruno. The only one who truly cares.”

“Care?” he said, his tone incredulous. “This isn’t care—it’s obsession.”

You smiled, tilting your head. “And what’s so wrong with that? Aren’t all great loves obsessive in their own way?”

His breath hitched as you reached out, your fingers brushing the fabric of his sleeve. Instinctively, he stepped back. “This stops now,” he said firmly. “You don’t get to decide what this is, or isn’t. And if you show up again—”

“You’ll what?” you interrupted, your smile turning sharp. “Hand me over to Passione? Kill me? We both know you won’t. Because no matter how much you try to deny it, you don’t hate seeing me.”

Bruno clenched his fists, his frustration evident. “You don’t understand what you’re doing.”

“Oh, I understand perfectly,” you replied. “You think you can keep your little world neatly organized, but I’m here to remind you that life isn’t so simple. Feelings aren’t simple.”

The silence between you was electric, charged with unspoken words and unacknowledged truths. Finally, Bruno spoke, his voice low and measured.

“If you care about your life, you’ll leave. Now.”

For a moment, you seemed to consider his words, but then you leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a whisper. “I’d rather die than be without you, Bruno Bucciarati. And one day, you’ll realize you feel the same.”

Before he could respond, you slipped past him and out the door, leaving behind only the faint scent of your perfume and the lingering weight of your words.

Bruno stood there for a long moment, his thoughts a whirlwind of emotion, including confusion, and something else he couldn’t quite name.

[allycat319]

Unlikely Affection Chapter 22: Gifts and Memories***

Authors Note: I'm back!!! I did not expect to take a hiatus but it was nice to enjoy the holidays and come up with some more ideas for this story. I know where I am going with it but I needed to come up with some more supplemental chapters to stretch the story for a while because I love these characters too much.

Between meetings/training in the newly found room of requirement with Harry and the other members of Dumbledore’s Army and the constant need to avoid Umbridge and her spies trying their best to catch us in the act. Severus and I had little to no time together in the recent weeks. He was gone when I arrived to grade, usually leaving me a formal note stating his absence (only formal because of the possibility of someone like Umbridge sneaking into his office while he is gone) and that I am to grade whatever he left out for me. By the time I am finished grading it is almost curfew and he has yet to return, so I end the time in his office by leaving him a note informing him of what I had accomplished and bidding him a good evening. 

That went on for several more weeks until one evening after dinner when I arrived at his office, expecting it to be empty except for my note. The great bat himself was sitting at his desk, hunched over a pile of parchments and scribbling furiously and mumbling to himself. He glanced up quickly when I opened the door and I smiled before dropping my bag and walking over to his desk.

Severus stood abruptly, grabbing my face in his hands and kissing me forcefully. His tongue slipped into my waiting mouth and I felt my core clench at the contact after so long without him. I moaned into the kiss and wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing him tightly to me. 

“How I've missed you my Little Star.” He growled into my panting mouth. 

“I’ve missed you too.” I smiled and kissed him again relishing in the moment before I pulled away quickly and he gave me a startled look. 

“What if someone comes in!” I whispered, stepping back a few paces to make distance enough between us so if we were to be interrupted, it would not look suspicious. 

“The door is locked and it is too late for her to come to inspect me…However, if you are worried we can move to my chambers.” He flicked his wrist and the door to his chambers opened by itself. “After you.” He smirked, motioning towards the door. 

When I walked into his living quarters the fire was already lit in the fireplace and two glasses were sat out waiting to be filled by the bottle of elf-made wine that sat beside them on the small table in front of the sofa. 

“Were you expecting me?” I smiled and he walked up behind me, placing his hands on my waist and pulling me back slightly so I was pressed against his front. 

He leaned down and pressed a light kiss to the sweet spot just under my ear. “The thought might have crossed my mind.” He whispered, hovering over the spot he had just kissed which gave me goosebumps all over my skin. 

After a moment of enjoying his touch, I slipped out of his grip and walked over to the couch and just as I was about to take a seat Severus spoke up; 

“I have laid out something more comfortable for you in my room. Go slip it on while I pour the wine.” I smiled at this thoughtful gesture and walked into his dimly lit bedroom.

Laying on his bed was a black peignoir set . The nightgown was black satin and had a delicate scoop neckline and the peignoir itself was tulle and about the same length as the nightgown, except it had capped sleeves with lace embellishments. I ran my fingers over the fabric, studying every detail before I decided it was time to put it on. 

I stripped off my school robes, kickers, and bra and pulled on the nightgown, it came to just above my knees and the fabric felt incredible on my naked skin. Next to go on was the peignoir, which added a delicate layer on the top and gave me just a little bit of modesty. I tied the dark wine-colored ribbon on the front that kept the gown closed and made my way back to the living area. 

When I walked around the corner, Severus sat in his chair with a book in his hands. When he saw me he put his book on the end table, never breaking eye contact and looking at me as if I was dessert and he was going to eat me up…Which I can’t say I would mind.  

“Come here Little Star.” He beckoned me over and I felt my knees go weak at his deep baritone voice. 

My legs carried me towards him of their own accord and before I knew it, I was standing between his knees. He patted his lap gently after a moment and I was putty in his hands, straddling his lap so my legs were pinned between his hips and the cushioned arms of his reading chair. 

I decided at that moment that I needed to feel him, to worship him with my lips so he knew just how much I missed him. I kissed his lips, then his nose, and moved down to his chin. My assault however was stopped when I reached his cravat, which was tied in its normal place around his neck, guarding his delicious skin from me. I groaned and fumbled with the offending piece of silk, doing my best to untie it and resume my kisses and he chuckled. 

Finally, I got the damn thing untied and began unbuttoning his cassock while I placed sweet kisses on his newly exposed neck, his hands moved to my hips, squeezing them gently and guiding me to rock against him. Rubbing my soaking, bare core on the prominent bulge in his trousers. 

I moaned into his skin at the feeling of the rough fabric grazing my folds, laying my forehead on his shoulder and closing my eyes, enjoying the feel of him where I needed him most. 

“Severus.” I panted “I need you…Please…Ohh fuck…Let me ride you.” I whimpered into his ear. 

He smirked darkly, “Is that not what you are doing, Darling?” I whined at his playful tone and he chuckled, giving my hips a firm squeeze. 

 I reached back and grabbed one of his hands, slowly moving him to where I needed to feel him most. I held his hand to my dripping core by his wrist, his fingers stroking me by instinct as I whimpered into his shoulder, bucking my hips at the slightest contact. 

“You are quite needy this evening Little Star,” Severus whispered into my ear seductively. 

“It’s been too long since you’ve touched me.” 

I could feel him smirk into my hair before his fingers that were exploring my folds dipped unexpectedly into my core. I clutched his wrist tighter and moaned as he moved his fingers in a come hither motion inside of me stroking my inner walls perfectly. 

My breathing became labored as he stroked that special part inside of me that made my toes curl and my eyes roll back. He was relentless in his efforts to drive me to the most incredible orgasm until… Knock knock knock. 

I froze on his lap, his fingers halted abruptly and were removed from me in less than a second. My heart thudded in my chest as I sat stone-still on his lap, looking at him with, what I can only imagine was a look of pure terror. 

Severus looked at me and brought his index finger to his lips, indicating for me to be silent and I nodded. 

“One moment.” He called out to the person on the other side of the door to his chambers. “Go to the bedroom and wait for me.” He whispered and I nodded, quickly removing myself from his lap. 

He stood up from the chair and waved his wand over himself to straighten and rebutton his clothing and clear off the noticeable wet spot that I had left on the crotch of his trousers. I hurriedly ran into his bedroom and closed the door behind me, pressing my ear to the wood hoping that I would be able to hear whoever was interrupting us this evening, but unfortunately for me all I heard was mumbled voices and the door slamming. 

 I rushed to the bed and plopped onto the soft satin fabric when I heard hurried footsteps marching toward the bedroom door. It opened with a thump as it hit the stone wall and I jumped slightly. Severus walked in and I could tell by the look on his face that he was annoyed. 

“I must go. The Headmaster has summoned me to his office…It is urgent.” He announced, walking over to me and placing a fleeting kiss on my lips. 

“What? Why?” I asked, standing and following him out of his bedroom door. I reached out and grabbed his hand, halting him from leaving the chambers in such a hurry. 

“I haven't a clue…” He turned to me and cupped my face in his hands before continuing. “Go back to your dormitory for the evening. You have my word that I will make it up to you.” He kissed my forehead before leaving me alone in his chambers. 

I huffed and grabbed one of the glasses of wine that he had filled before I re-entered the room after changing and gulping down the contents. I knew I needed to go back to the dorms, so I decided to change back into my school robes and start the disappointing trek to Gryffindor Tower. 

The next morning was thankfully Saturday which meant no classes and a trip into Hogsmeade with Edwin who was waiting for me by the large fireplace in the common room. I was hoping this trip would take my mind off Severus’ quick departure last night and the uncomfortable ache still lurking between my legs from our foreplay. 

Edwin had spent Friday evening in the library with Marigold which had become his usual routine. I was beyond happy that he had finally found someone he was so smitten with and she seemed to return the favor. However, as Edwin’s best friend I, of course, had to take the mickey when I saw him…and I did it every Saturday since their first library ‘study session’. 

“So loverboy…When are you going to ask her on an official date?” I asked as we began our walk out of the castle. 

“I thought I was going to ask her last night…but I chickened out. She is just so beautiful and when I start to ask, my insides turn to putty when she makes eye contact and I clam up.” He explained and I linked my arm with his. 

“Edwin you know she will say ‘yes’ you just have to ask. Invite her to Hogsmeade next weekend for a butterbeer, that way you can get a move on before Christmas!” 

My poor best friend just shrugged and changed the subject, typical Edwin. “What about you and the great grump? Have you two managed to find some time to yourselves?” He asked hopefully, we had finally made it to the path to Hogsmeade so we were now clear to have a quiet conversation about Severus without any students or teachers overhearing. 

“We spent a few minutes together last night, but he got an urgent call from Dumbledore and had to leave.” I sighed. 

“Did he tell you what Dumbledore wanted?” I shook my head and Edwin shrugged. 

“I’m assuming if he was called away in the evening like that it would have to be for a good reason.” 

“I guess, it’s just getting annoying that we have no time together. Whether it be because of Umbridge, the meetings in the Room of Requirement, or even him having meetings of his own…It just feels like we never have time together anymore.” I sounded a bit more defeated than I meant to but it felt good to finally talk about it. 

“Have you asked him about the summer?” He asked and I looked at him and raised my eyebrow. “Maybe you two could spend the summer together. He has a house...Right?” 

I gave him a curious look, “I think so…We haven’t talked about it and I think that would be something he would need to bring up first, not me.” 

We continued to walk and I kept thinking about Edwin’s suggestion. Could I spend the summer with Severus? Would that even be something he would allow? The thoughts ran through my head the entire time we were at Hogsmeade and it was difficult to think about the gifts I was supposed to be getting for Millie and my Grandad. 

Eventually, I was able to clear my foggy mind enough to pick out a beautiful maroon and gold dress for Millie, which I transfigured to fit her small stature. For my grandfather, I picked up an assortment of sweets from Honeydukes. Licorice wands, peppermint toads, and jelly slugs, he never told anyone but he had a horrible sweet tooth and Honeydukes was his weakness. Severus and I had already had the discussion about what he wanted for Christmas and he told me I was under no circumstances to buy him anything otherwise he would ‘paint my rear multiple shades of red’ and I was in no place to test him…Even though I kind of wanted to. 

After our long day of shopping Edwin and I made our way back to the castle. I plopped my bags into my trunk when I arrived at my dorm and shrugged off my big coat in favor of a lighter jumper for lunch in the great hall. 

When lunch was finished I walked to the dungeons in hopes of spending some time with Severus. Even if we had to grade during the time we spent, it would be far better than not seeing him at all. 

I knocked on his office door and waited for his reply and when it finally came I entered the damp, cold dungeon classroom and smiled warmly at him. He was sitting at his desk like normal, reading a roll of parchment from a stack beside of him. He looked up at me when I plopped down in the chair in front of him and sighed.

“I am sorry you keep catching me at a busy moment Little Star. These parchments need grading promptly.”  

I gave him a small smile and grabbed a pot of ink and a quill, “You know if you stop giving so much homework you wouldn’t have to spend so much time grading.” I quipped as I grabbed some of the papers from the stack and began grading. He chuckled and thanked me for helping him, reminding me that the homework was in place to help us succeed in his class. 

 We graded in silence for about an hour before he spoke up finally. “I have been putting this off but...We need to talk.” I dropped the quill into the ink pot and leaned back in the chair. 

“Is it about last night?” I asked, hopeful that he would tell me what Dumbledore needed so urgently. 

 He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, looking at me with the most defeated look I’ve ever seen him have.  “I need to take your memories.”

Woah! I come back with a cliffhanger???

As always if you enjoy it leave me a comment or even a like! I love interacting with everyone and hearing opinions about the story!

[latinapoetbts]

New Year's Eve [Part 3]- KTH - Y/N [Latina] | mini-series

Summary : * Smut, 18 +, AU, Non-idol Y/N and Tae Hyung are old friends. You have been in love with him since you first laid eye on him in middle school. Keeping a friendship and controlling your feelings for him had been hard. It had been four years since yo last sawn him and now you are visiting your home town for the New Year's holidays. Find out what happens between you once you see each other again. Part 1| Part 2| Part 3

PART 3

“You look nervous, y/n,” he says as you let your eyes meet his gaze. 

Nervous? You wondered what kind of face you were making. You were nervous but you also felt ignited with desire. You had been in Tae’s room between middle and high school plenty of times. You had laid on the bed with him just as many times, watching TV or reading alongside him. Yet tonight in his apartment, the mood in the air was different. Your heartbeat was increasing, and you chugged the rest of your drink as you sat on his bed next to the gift bag, your legs crossed together. Without words, he approaches you, takes the glass from your hand, placing it on the nightstand. His waist resting against your knees. You were rendered speechless at his nearness, and your throat was cleared. You're not sure if he realizes his current effect on you and/or how intentional he is with his actions, but you have to break the silence as he stands before you. You could feel his gaze, but you refused to look up. 

“I’m not nervous, just...I know...um...maybe it’s the alcohol, I had a few glasses of wine before I got here too...So...I feel like…like... I-I could use another drink” You fumbled out the words the best you could. What was wrong with you, you wondered. You did not dare to look at his face, and your mind was filled with thoughts of kissing him and undressing him. There was a long pause before he responded to you.

“Ya, sure...I’ll go make you one right now”. As he turned to leave the room, you let out a deep sigh. ‘Get it together y/n, remember why you are here, tell him how you feel and stop thinking about ripping his clothes off’. You giggled at yourself took a few deep breaths. The liquor was starting to get to you. You were feeling light headed, silly and awoken with desire. You reached for the gift and placed it in your lap. You laughed at a memory that popped into your buzzed head at random. The two of you sitting on the curb of a street basketball court, the sun setting behind the two of you. Him noticing the frown on your face frustrated you missed the last game shot, ‘hey turn that frown upside down’. You laugh at the memory like it was just yesterday. You knew saying goodbye meant saying goodbye to everything he meant to you and all the possibilities and future memories. You had always imagined and hoped that you both would be friends forever. Even if you could not be the love of his life, you were confident your future children would be friends. But you just could not be friends, it was too painful and it always gave you hope that one day he would love you the way that you loved him. You let out a sigh, the door opened and Tae came in two drinks in hand, handing one to you and setting down the other. 

“Here y/n”You grab a drink with one hand while still holding the gift. 

“Thank you, Tae Hyung.” You take a swig of the drink and noticed his eyes on you.

“Are you taking my gift back already?” he asks as you laughed.

“No of course not, I thought you were going to open it already”. He smiles at you and takes the gift from your lap, staying close to you and opening the gift. He sees that is a button down shirt and smiles warmly at you.

“Thank you, I really like it. Purple. My favorite color, you remember after all these years”. He says examining the shirt, then tossing it down to the right of you and slightly behind you some of the fabric grazing against your leg. You feel slightly embarrassed for remembering even the smallest detail about him and take another drink avoiding eye contact with him. You notice him starting to unbutton the top button of the blue button down he was wearing from the corner of your eyes. You swallow not sure what he is doing but keep your eyes forward and away from him. He continues in silence unbuttoning each button slowly one by one. You glance at him in between drinks from your cup. He finally finishes and removes his shirt completely revealing his bronze colored toned bare chest, bare shoulders and taunt stomach. You gasp slightly followed by biting your lip. You just could not tear your eyes away from the sight of him. You stare taking in every inch of his bare skin. You could see the band of his calvin klein boxers poking out from his dress pants. Your eye’s slowly met with his and you find him staring with such intensity you nearly lost all rational. You could literally visualize yourself jumping on him legs wrapped around his waist and lips locked together. Eyes still locked with yours he leans down toward you reaching outward towards his shirt. You feel as if you are in a trance or perhaps this is what it is like to be bewitched or under a spell, his spell to be exact. He leans even closer his arm extended reaching for his shirt but his eyes never leaving yours. It’s a slow reach, you watch him slowly lick his lips, his eyes lowering to your lips. You lick yours as well as if you could taste him. You felt the heat rising in between your legs and a slight tingle. It felt like time had froze, he leaned even closer to you his lips nearly touching yours but he stops just shy of touching them. You could feel his shallow sweet amaretto flavored breath against your lips. 

“Tae...Hyung...I-I….” you could not finish. His lips gently collided with yours starting with slow sensual lingering suckles to your lips as if he was tasting and savoring them slowly. Followed by him guiding you back with a forward leaning motioning forcing you to lay down while deepening his kiss. You responded leaning back onto the bed, he releases your lips grabs your drink from your hand and places it on the nightstand as he quickly returns to his original position his tongue tracing and outlining your lips and slipping into your mouth. You reach your hand to wrap around his bare back your other hand teasing through his hair. You release a deep moan into his mouth releasing years of desire in one sound enjoying the exploration of tangled tongues. Your legs respond identical to your mouth, they cascade open effortlessly allowing him permission and space to enveloped in between bringing your bodies closer together than they had ever been before. You could feel your body tingling and igniting, you were on fire with desire. You arched your hips upward desperate for more friction rubbing your crotch against his and feeling just how rock hard his member had become. You were lost in his kisses, intoxicated by his taste and hungry for more. Tonight your body would do the talking.

His lips moved down to your neck first placing sweet tender kisses against your perfumed skin. You continued to rock your hips against is waist moaning softly and sensually. He continued to assault your neck leaving behind the tenderness and latching on to your skin sucking and moaning in to your neck as he drove his hips harder and harder into yours. You could feel the hot wetness between your legs pool into the silk material of your underwear. You were nearly dripping. Your fingers tighten their grip of his hair as you grinded as hard as possible into his thick hard member. You felt one hand start to slide up the outside of your thigh pushing up the fabric of you silk dress sliding behind your rear grabbing roughly onto and squeezing as if his life depended on it. This pain and pleasure was causing was driving you mad. He released your tingling cheek and slipped his fingers into your panties slowly. Just the anticipation of him touching your wet swollen lips caused a gush of hot liquid to seep out and a deep more to release form your mouth. You instantly opened your legs even wider. He looked up at you licking his lips. You could see the lust and desire burning and flicker in his eyes. You know those eyes were like a mirror to you. He must of seen the longing in your eyes because instantly he brought his fingertips to your wet lips drenching with your fluids and swiped upward causing you to shudder at his touch. 

“Oh fuck y/n your so fucking wet just from the outside. I can only image how wet your pussy is inside” He says followed by crashing his lips into your his tongue swirling with yours both of your moaning heavily into each other mouths. He continues rubbing the outside of your lips. You thrust your hips into her fingers and break your kiss by pulling his head back by his hair.

“Please..Tae...tou-ch me…” His eyes flicker, flames of desire burning as he shoves two fingers in between your drenched lips. You gasp and arch your back and hips trying desperately to get his fingers as deep as possible inside of you. You could hear the luide sloshing and sucking of you pussy swallowing his fingers to his knuckles leaving his fingers drenched as he paces in and out of you. He roughly pulls down you the top of your strapless dress simultaneously dragging down your strapless bra exposing your ample breasts and hard nipples. He continues to finger you all the while taking one nipple into his mouth alternative between sucking tauntly, swirling his tongue around and flipping the tip, over and over again. You arch your chest into his mouth moaning, you were not sure how much more you could. You more than wanted him you need to feel him inside of you.  He switches to the over nipple leaving the wet one cold and swollen as he continues to pump his fingers faster and faster.

“Tae..Pl-ea-se, I don’t know how much longer I can wait, I need your dick inside of me…”. He releases your nipple and sits up.  

“Y/N fuck. Your so wet. And  your so beautiful, sexy and delicious, don’t worry I’ve waited along time for this, trust me, I--want this…” With that he reaches down and hastily pulls off your panties throwing them to the floor. You shimmy out of your dress he helps throwing it to the side and mounting you. 

“Tae--trust me, I’ve waited longer...you fucking asshole...who I lo--v--uh--ng--(gasping)” You could not even finish your sentece as he you feel his long, thick hard cock push into your lips. The head went in easy thanks to how dripping wet he had made you but the rest was painful. You grabbed onto his shoulders drawing him close as he captured your lips. You kissed him wildly digging your nails into his shoulder blades as his quickly thrusted himself deep and hard into you. You gasp loudly breaking from his kiss and burying your face into his neck.

“Uhh-ow--e...mmmm…” the pain and pleasure was so intense body quivered and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. You release a gut hurling moan and bit into his neck sucking hard as he quicken his passed faster and harder into you raveging your pussy. You continue to savagely suck, lick and kiss his neck moaning into him and driving your hips high and harding into his. 

“Fuck y/n your so tight...it feels too fu-cking good…I-I can’t hold it…your so tight like if this was your first ti--me…” You take his mouth with yours silencing him. You did not want him to finish his sentence, after all it was your first time, because you had only ever wanted him to have you. You couldn't imagine anyone else taking away your first time. This is what you had wanted. You did not want him to know, and your were afraid your eyes would give it away, tears welled up in your eyes threatening to fall. You kissed him harder driving your hips harder and faster into his you both falling into a rhythm, skin slapping together. You were heaven. He pulled out quickly breaking your lips apart his back arched back hand on his cock as hot creamy cum shot onto your abdoman.  

“Uh..oh shit, I’m sorry y/n, I couldn’t handling it, you fuck broken me, I want to get a condom, but your just to fucking sexy and wet. I’m sorry, you forgive me?” He ask smirking as he gets up walks to the bathroom and returns with a towel. He crawls over you and starts to gently wipe you clean followed by kissing your lips. You take the towel from him and wipe away spots he missed and clean his cock as well.

“Thank you Tae...for the towel.” You avoid his eyes feeling nervousness once again. You hated yourself for feeling nervous. You knew for you this was making love but for him it most likely was a buzzed one night stand. But it did not matter to you, you were happy. You bit your lip not sure what to do other than get dressed. You slide off the bed, you felt his eyes on you. As you stood with your back to him you slipped on your panties, you could hear some movement. He trembled as you felt the hot  sweaty skin of his toned chest touch your back and his warm arms wrap around your waist. You froze standing there only in your underwear. His lips press against your ear.

“Y/N, please don’t think this was just another fuck for me, It’s the fartherst from it. I meant it when I said I waited so long for this...for you. I’m sorry I kept you waiting this long….Happy New Year.” Tears fell from your check as you both stood before his window the reflection of you two standing like lovers as fireworks went off in the sky. You turned and kissed his cheek as he held you in his arms. 

Part 1| Part 2| Part 3

[the-void-writes]

ROYGBIV Tag Game

Thank you @sergeantnarwhalwrites for the tag! These are all gonna be from the AU draft that I’ve been stuck on for months. I had to go in and add some colors to my writing lol, but here we are.

I’ll tag @bloodlessheirbyjacques @tryingtimi @guessillcallitart and leave it open for whoever wants to join! No pressure 💖 The rules are to find any instances of your writing that have the colors red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet.

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

Red - The picture underneath was of a ghostly-looking man. Long red hair hung like a curtain in front of his pale eyes, the color of the sky when it snowed. Will was paralyzed by his frenzied stare, like a rabbit caught in the eyes of a starved wolf. It filled him with a type of dread he hadn’t truly felt before. Somehow, deep in Will’s mind, he felt as though he knew the man.

Orange - Soft orange firelight painted his face as he stared into the hearth and sighed. Will could always tell when a painful thought crossed Henry’s mind, as the wrinkles around his tired eyes deepened and sagged.

Yellow - Will stared into the soft, colorful lights that bathed the wood in little patches of pink and green and blue and yellow. Such a simple sight filled him with immense happiness. He was celebrating the holidays with a proper family, people who loved him. It didn’t matter what they celebrated, as long as they were together.

Green - Cold green eyes stared down at him— not a pleasant green, like a forest or an emerald. This was the color of ooze, of sickness, of substances so toxic that they had to be buried deep in the earth. Will grew nauseous just from looking at him, as though the acid in his eyes was eating him away from the inside.

Blue - “I’ll try not to drop you,” Will said.

“Eh, a little water won’t kill us.”

Will took his hands and led him out onto the shimmering blue lake. They both glided across easily, sliding like leaves along a river. Colin looked around at the water and laughed.

“You’re amazing!”

Indigo - Birds flew overhead into the soft indigo sky as the last bit of stars came out. Bits of frost began to form on the wet grass. Will used his bag to try and shield himself from the chill, only relieving it by a fraction. He was already exhausted, but he needed to find shelter, a place where he could rest without someone finding him and bringing him back to Isaiah.

Violet - The cameras fell on her as she raised her fists in the air, and that was when Will noticed her metal arm. Glowing violet lines of light danced across the prosthesis, flowing around the individual joints and fingers on her hand.