#the way things are going we could actually have a white Christmas

[egglygreg]

It's apparently going to be 45 degrees tomorrow (that's 113f) and humid, with a thunderstorm 😖😬😰 and it's only the start of summer!

Praying that it doesn't get that hot, we only have an evap aircon and it won't work in humidity 😑

[neverendingford]

.

[warnersister]

Personal Space (two Bradshaws like it now)

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: A sequel in which you love your personal space. Unfortunately, Bradley also loves your personal space. Even more so now you’ve had a baby, apparently.

Can be read as a part 2, but doesn’t have to be. Read Personal Space here

You really didn’t know when it all happened, when you and Bradley became a thing. At first he was just an annoying crew member you couldn’t shake off your tail. Then he was your wingman. Then you got accidentally placed into marriage accommodation and the two of you played it off so you could get better housing. Then you actually bought a house. And then somewhere along the way you got married.

“Where shall we have the wedding?” Bradley asked and you raised a brow “register office” you shrug “what you don’t want a wedding?” He asks, hand on his chest as he feigns offence. “You do?” You ask and he nods vigorously. You huff. “Fine” “so shall we do it on the beach?” He asks “okay” you just go along with it, hardly even entertaining the idea at all.

“So? What do you think?” Nat asks as she makes you pivot in a white gown “I think I look like a roll of toilet paper” you said, crossing your arms “maybe it’s just not the dress for you?” She reasons and you shake your head “just not really into the whole idea of this wedding. I kinda thought we’d just sign papers and get on with it” you said “well you picked Bradshaw, he’s a drama queen at the best of times” she says and you him in agreement; your consultant leading you back to the fitting rooms “let’s try another”.

You’d left with a sleeved dress; hating the idea of having a low cut dress, and begging Nat to just let you leave. Sure, you loved the dress - but you loved the idea of getting out of that suffocating shop more.

“Hey honey” Bradley had said, hearing you walk into the house and set your keys on the kitchen counter. “Hi” you reply shortly, moving to fill your cup with water from the sink. “How was your day?” He asked, moving to rest his head on your shoulder and holding you from behind. “Good. Bought a wedding dress” you say simply “you did what?!”

Then on your wedding day, you’d stared at yourself in the mirror far too long. “You look gorgeous” Penny whispers, squeezing your shoulders comfortingly “I look like a fucking pin up doll” you huff, not necessarily believing yourself - just not used to being such a central perspective of attention. “Wow” your dad says, walking into the room “you look gorgeous” he whispers “is there an echo in here?” You mumble, but smile at him “thank you” you say, wiping the tears from under his eyes. “C’mon, Bradley’s nearly about to come get you himself”

You showed up to the beach-front wedding right on time, completely dead against the idea of being in any way, shape, or form late. Your father gave you away, Bradley in floods of tears at the end of the isle by the time you’d gotten there. “You look incredible” he whispers, lips quivering as he stares at you “shut up you’re going to make me cry.” You grumble, but smile. “It’s okay to cry.” He says, as the ceremony begins. “You may now kiss your bride” and Bradley dipped you and kissed you sweetly, drowning out the cheers of those around you. “I love you, Bradshaw.” You say, smally, “I love you more, sweetheart” he says and kisses your forehead “you’re crying” he points out “shut up”

And then you looked at the two lines on the pregnancy test two years later. You hummed “okay” and looked at yourself in the mirror, knowing nothing else other than the fact that you had to tell Bradley right that second. You marched downstairs, where he was sat playing with some keys on the piano you’d bought him last Christmas, stopping next to him. “Hey baby, y’alright?” He asked, and you just held out the stick to him. “What’s this?” He asks, taking it from you and looking over it once. “You serious?” He asked, looking at you; smile growing from ear to ear “you’re pregnant?” He almost whispers “unless the other four lied.” you say and he jumps up and pulls you into his arms, kissing all over your face until you shouted at him to stop.

He knelt down and looked at your stomach, kissing it gently then moving to put his ear against it “uh huh” he hummed “Bradley what are you-” “shush I’m talking to em” he says and you stand, unimpressed, but let him nonetheless. “Oh yeah baby, I’m excited to meet you too” he coos “yeah, yeah, I’m your dad” and you audibly giggle. He looks up at you, eyes wide “you done?” You ask and he nods “yeah little one was done talking” he smiles, and hugs you close again. “I need to get the baby clothes out of the attic” he mumbles, kissing your temple “the what?” You ask “I bought them when we started renting the house!” He says, dragging you excitedly up the stairs “but we own the house, Brad” you him “no, no, the one we had during the mission!” He says and you gasp internally, realising how long the two of you had been together without even noticing it.

“Hey dad” you say, as you and Bradley head into the hangar he and you owned “hey honey, hey Brad” your dad greets, wiping the oil from his hands to come over and talk to the two of you. He kissed your forehead and hugged you, then your husband before walking back over to the aircraft he was working on. “Thought you needed a new picture for your pinboard” you hum “oh? I just added the wedding photo!” He says, excitedly, showing you the filled gap. “Okay, guess you don’t want the sonogram of your grandchild.” You say, turning to head out before Bradley hurriedly grabbed you and turned you back into the situation, pulling the strip of photos from his breast pocket. Your dad stood with his jaw wide open “you’re-” he breathes “you’re really pregnant?” He asks as his eyes well with tears “well I wouldn’t lie-” you say but he just pulls you into a big bear hug, pinning Baby Bradshaw’s picture onto his board.

You head to go look at the part of the engine your dad couldn’t quite fix while Bradley held back with Maverick. He turns to him and shakes his hand “your dad would’ve been so proud.” He says, smiling at Bradley “I know you are.” Rooster smiles, wordlessly being pulled into a hug with his father-in-law.

Then one evening you were sat up in bed, Bradley sound asleep beside you as you look down at the barely visible bump. Bradley had sort of a sixth sense, somehow knowing you weren’t asleep beside him. “Hey, baby what’s up?” He croaks, immediately moving to sit up with you when he sees his senses were correct. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, Bradley.” You say, staring ahead at the wall “what do you mean?” He asks, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “I mean I’m a fighter pilot, I was raised by a single father, I never had that maternal instinct, what am I doing?” You whisper, and when Bradley managed to finally pull your face towards him you were crying “oh sweetheart” he hums, pulling you into him gently “you’re gonna be the best momma ever, and the fact that you worry proves that. I love you, okay?” He comforts “I know. I love you too.”

You were stubborn the whole pregnancy. You thought it was ridiculous that people just stopped when they were pregnant, and Bradley was trailing you trying anything to get you to just relax. “Hen, please!” He begs as you head out for your morning run “I’m three months pregnant, Bradley. I’m not incompetent.” You snap, as he begrudgingly pulls on his running shoes and follows you out the door. He pulled you back anytime you went quicker than a 10 minute mile “Bradley, if you slow me down one more time I’m going to pull your arm out of your socket” you snap and he holds his hands up “message received.”

Then one day, at around the sixth month mark you walked into the house and slammed the door so hard it rattled. “What’s up?” Bradley asked, as you practically threw your stuff on the floor. “They’re putting me on the desk.” You grumble, anger evident in your eyes while his soften “oh baby we knew that was gonna happen” he soothes, rubbing your arm reassuringly “no! No we didn’t! I was perfectly fine hiding the bump, but no!” You huff “I’m Bradley Bradshaw and all of California has to know my wife’s pregnant!” You imitate him but he just smirks “oh I’m so sorry that everyone needs to know you’re taken and carrying my baby” he says, smugly. “Don’t you smile at me Bradley-” you wag an accusatory finger at him, but he heaves you over his shoulder, and towards the stairs “c’mon, let’s help you blow off some steam” he reasons “y’know it’s possible to get pregnant while pregnant, right?” You ask and he cheers “woohoo! Two for one deal, sounds great!” He says and you can’t help but smile.

Then came your maternity leave, Bradley picked you up in his bronco. You were quick to head outside, and he kinda hated how well you hid the bump. “I’m done.” You huff, settling into the seat beside him “if that bitch from accounting asks me one more time if I want her herbal teas I’m going to knock her teeth out” you complain and Bradley chuckles “well, just me, you and Baby Bradshaw now” he says and you hum in agreement.

But when you approached your street, you rolled straight past your house and straight to the Hard Deck ‘congratulations on your baby’ banners plastered all over “welcome to our baby shower!” Bradley grins as you pull up “is this really necessary? They aren’t even here yet.” You tell him and he shrugs “thought it might take your mind off maternity leave” you smile at him “thanks, Brad”

And at one point in the evening, you sat Natasha and Bob down separately. “Hey Phoenix, can we borrow you?” Brad asked, pulling her away from her conversation “yeah of course guys!” You took a seat at a table and Bradley forced you to elevate your feet against your will. “What’s up?” She asks “how’d you like to be godmother to little Bradshaw?” Her eyes lit up when Bradley asked and she leant over the table to hug the two of you “oh I’d love too!” She announces, excitedly.

Then you head over to Bob, but Phoenix holds Rooster back “they have a special connection, let her do this”. You sit on the stool next to Bob and he offers you some peanuts which you refuse, and you stay sat in silence for a minute. “Bob can I ask you something?” You ask, as he pulls your calves up to rest in his lap “of course, hen” he says, brushing some crumbs off his top “what’s up?” “Well, the job we’re in isn’t an old job” you say and he laughs and agrees “it’s also dangerous” you say, and again - he nods. “So if anything happens to me and Brad, can you be there for little Bradshaw?” His eyes widen and start to swell with tears “will you be our godfather?” You ask and he nods, moving to miss your cheek “of course I will, hen. I’d be honoured.”

Bradley and you had started putting together your hospital bag at the 8 month mark. You were both premature so had a bit of superstition, especially with only being a few weeks off of the 40 mark. You’d placed the bag by the front door, along with a baby carrier in the middle seat of his Bronco.

It was week 38 when you were both putting together the crib beside your bed, two spare bedrooms and still you only wanted your baby beside you. “Okay all done, baby” your husband said “okay. My water broke three minutes ago” you say as calmly as he had, he nods, then whips his head back round “your water broke?” He asks and looks down, and indeed, your water had broken “oh my god your water broke?!” He announced, picking you up bridal style and carrying you out to the bronco, picking the hospital bag up on the way. “Ready to have a baby?” He asks, giddily. “Am I supposed to be?” You ask and he shakes his head with a smile “no”

You were dead silent during birth and it scared the shit out of Bradley. “Do you want an epidural, honey? They’ve offered-” “no.” “Can I get you more ice?” “No.” And he tried everything, even when it was time to push. You held his hand and your mouth was zipped shut. “Is she supposed to be this quiet?” He asked the doctor who just looked at him nonchalantly “it’s normal, all mothers react differently to birth” he said. “I’m a fighter pilot Bradley. I’ve had worse.” You grit. “Breathe baby” he tells you “I think you need to.” You say “stop being dramatic” you say as you push again “honey-” “either shut up or get out.” You tell him and he glues his mouth shut, at least until the baby comes.

Bradley cuts the chord and they hand you your baby, and your eyes widen as you stare at the baby on your chest “welcome to the world Nick Bradshaw” you coo at the baby and Bradley raised his brows “Nick?” He asks, voice cracking “what? Got a problem with that? You and your stupid dick” you grumble and Bradley laughs and shakes his head, kissing your forehead.

“Hey mom, shall we take baby so you can get some rest?” The nurse asked, leaning to take Nick from your arms “excuse me?” You asked, pulling your baby closer. “So you can sleep?” She suggests “I’ve carried him for nine months and now he’s here you’re taking him away?” You ask “well, some mothers like to sleep” “I can sleep when I’m dead.” You deadpan, and she realised that Nick wouldn’t have been pried from your hands even if you were dead, so she left you all alone.

“Taking you away from mommy? Who does she think she is?” You whisper to baby Nick. “Welcome back to the world, Bradshaw.” You say and Bradley can only smile and hold the two of you close.

You’re going to be just fine in this mommy role.

——————————

Part 2-ish? I know it was really well liked and I enjoyed writing it so hope you enjoy this one too!

-> @rosiahills22 here’s another one!

[withahappyrefrain]

“Stop wiggling around, I’m trying to sleep! Wait… what’s tha… oh!”

Forced proximity with best friend Bob?

A chance to do friends to lovers with Bob? Say no more!

"Remind me to never let Javy book the Air B&B again."

Bob chuckled at your comment, despite agreeing, "Well at least we have an actual bed. Reuben and Mickey have bunk beds."

"So all the single people have to suffer?" You scoffed, continuing to shuffle through your luggage.

The annual lake trip was going well, until the room arrangements were revealed. It wasn't that you minded sharing a room with Bob.

It was the lack of a second bed.

Twenty years ago, when you were both eight, this wouldn't have been a problem. But then puberty, high school, and base camp occurred, which brought to light the crush you had been harboring on your best friend.

"We'll make it work. And if it's that bad, I can take the floor," he offered, always the considerate one. It was one of the many traits you adored about Bob.

"Robert James Floyd, absolutely not!" You scolded, eliciting a chuckle out of him. It was deep and low, just like his voice and you didn't want to admit how it made your knees nearly shake.

"I've slept in barracks before, it's the same thing."

The comment would have gotten a laugh out of you. In fact, you would have even made a remark back, probably about how you've also slept in truck beds and underneath a wide open sky.

But then Bob Floyd took his shirt off.

It wasn't even your first time seeing him shirtless, far from it. But now he had filled out, with muscle and a dusting of hair that trailed down from his chest, past his stomach.

God, was he always this hot? Had to be and somehow you just didn't notice it until later. Perhaps that was the worst part; you fell for him because of who he was. It wasn't as if he had some type of glowup over summer break, like you'd see so often in those stupid teen movies you'd watch to feel better about yourself. No, Bob Floyd was always a beautiful soul, inside and out.

And he wasn't yours. Couldn't be. The risk of him not reciprocating was too high. Plus, your family was friends with his'. That meant Thanksgiving, Christmas, Fourth of July, hell, even fucking Memorial Day gatherings would be tainted. All thanks to you.

The pressure was too high, the risk was too great.

But you could look, right?

"Sunshine?"

Bob's childhood now turned adult nickname for you broke the spell. Your wide eyes met his oceanic's. His hair, which had gotten darker over the years and now had threads of early greys, was mussed from taking off his shirt, some curls over the front of his forehead, others to the side. White shirt in hand, highlighting how massive they were when clutching the alabaster fabric. Brow's knitted together, combined with his narrow eyes and titled head created a downright adorable look of confusion.

"You,,,," he briefly turned around, to see if there was something on the wall behind him and that's why you wouldn't look at him, "You okay?"

You nodded eagerly, probably too eagerly, "Yeah sorry....I uh spaced out. Probably thinking of ways to get back at Javy."

Bob smiled, despite it never reaching his eyes when he nodded. You had turned around so quickly, unable to make such an observation.

"I'm going to go take a shower," grabbing the top and bottom you could find the quickest in your suitcase. You avoided eye contact with him, too busy feeling shame for getting caught doing something so lewd.

Rushing, you turned the water on in the showers. Focusing on ensuring you grabbed the correct products. Get the water to the perfect temperature and pressure, it exists, it has to exist because if it doesn't then you'll think about the dark body hair that went past the waistband of his jeans.

For about twenty minutes, it worked. You did your skincare routine, brushed your teeth for nearly two minutes, even blow dried your hair. Applied a lip mask, that stupid lash and brow serum the worker at Sephora conned you into buying. Moisturize every inch of your body, even though it was the dead of summer and you would sweat it all off before sunrise. That stupid reusable eye mask that you got because it was on clearance. Have you done the Wordle today, you should do the Wordle. You should do anything other than thinking about sharing a bed with your shirtless best friend.

It worked. Even put on some music, not too loud, just enough to hear and hum along.

It worked. For a while. But then you had used nearly every product in your cosmetics bag and it was time to get dressed.

Fuck.

You could never match a pair of socks, not even if your life depended on it. But tonight, fucking tonight of all nights, you had to grab a whole matching set.

The pale pink lace trimmed cami, paired with joggers. An oversized T-shirt that went further down than the pair of matching satin shorts.

You had brought the set when you were talking to a guy and thought you would be able to move on from the wonder that is Bob Floyd. What a fucking joke.

Maybe you could wear them, run back out to grab something else and run back in to change. No, why would anyone do that? If anything, it'll just make it more obvious that you didn't want to wear it in front of him. But what if you didn't change and Bob thought you had worn essentially casual lingerie on purpose? What if he found that weird? What if-

"You okay in there Sunny?" His voice always calmed you, always able to break you out of whatever self inflicted spiral you were on.

Taking a deep breath, you nodded despite Bob being unable to see you, "Yeah, I'm good. Just developed a more extensive skincare routine."

A short burst of laughter was released on the other side of the door, "You don't need all that. Already pretty."

"Bob Floyd, you are....." Charming. Amazing. Too good to be true. The love of my life,

"....too kind."

"Just telling the truth," his feet audibly stepped away. The butterflies in your chest were still exploding from his words. He made you feel safe, that this was Bob you were talking about. He'd never think you'd do something lewd or negative on purpose. Bob knew your intentions to be good. After all, he was your Bobby.

Just not in the way you want.

Your head cleared long enough to walk out the door, into the well lit bedroom. When he first made eye contact with you, you didn't even falter, simply smiling at him.

But Bob didn't say anything at first. Usually he'd make a teasing but well meaning comment about you taking so long. His thin pink lips parted, yet no words came through.

"Are you okay Bobby?"

The concern in your voice broke the trance. His features soften, his lips quirking into a half smile, "Yeah, I'm good. Just gonna shower and then head to bed."

Tension had left the room. Flopping down onto the bed, you scrolled through social media, watching all the videos and photos the squad had posted today.

"Uh, Sunshine?" You turned and lost your breath. Bob's hair was freshly washed, ends beginning to curl. A white shirt that was barely translucent and grey sweatpants that hung low on his lithe hips.

Bob Floyd had downright slutty hips.

"I don't think the bed is big enough for both of us to lay down."

Your brow crumpled in confusion, "Javy said this was a queen."

"Javy thinks anything that isn't a single is a Queen." Bob explained, not phased at all by this mistake.

Clearly it wasn't the first time. But you were still going to kill Javy Machado tomorrow morning.

"Here, if we both sleep on our sides, it'll be good."

"Like spooning?"

"Uh yeah," a hand came up to rub the back of his neck, "That's one way to think about it."

You supposed it was better than feeling his ass against yours, "Alright, well....come on in, the water's fine."

It took some time to figure out the arrangement. What was one supposed to do with their other hand? The final agreement consisted of your hips flushed against Bob's, his arm slung over your waist.

Zero awkwardness in the air. It felt....natural.

"Night Bobby."

"Night Sunshine."

Things were looking up. There was no way this would change your friendship or threaten to reveal your well kept secret. Sleep was well within your reach.

Then Bob moved. And kept moving. Due to his closeness, you felt every maneuver, no matter how subtle.

"Floyd, do you mind?"

His movements continued, as if he was trying to avoid your body while somehow simultaneously hang onto it.

A loud huff left your lips, "Stop wiggling around, I'm trying to sleep! Wait, what's that...."

Oh.

Your hips were flushed against his, your ass perfectly fitting the space formed by his thigh meeting his hip. Right against his hardened groin.

The sweatpants were thin. He didn't have anything underneath. Thanks to the flimsy fabric of your shorts, you could feel him greatly.

You were in bed with Bob Floyd. Bob Floyd was in bed with you, rocking an erection. You were being held by Bob Floyd, in bed. Bob Floyd had a huge cock, a grower.

Silence filled the room, tension thick enough to be cut with a butter knife. Neither one wanting to move, for fear of making it worse.

He let out a shaky breath. He developed a rhythm, almost imitating one sleeping.

You shifted, just enough for your thigh to rise, but subtle enough to play off as nothing.

His breath hitched.

Inch by inch, your hips began to gyrate, rubbing against his clothed cock.

"B-Bobby," you were panting, as if having run a marathon. His fingers sank into your hips, gripping the plush flesh as he flipped you onto your back, towering over you.

You moved to sit on your elbows, to raise yourself up to argue. From years of play fighting, he was fast as lightning, pinning your hands above your head.

Bob slowly lowered himself down until his nose brushed against your, his soft hair brushing your forehead.

"Twelve years." Was all he said, gritting through his teeth, squeezing your hands in hopes it would tethered him to Earth.

All that came out of your mouth was a hum of confusion. In the moonlit light, you searched for his eyes, trying to read them.

"Stuart Hendricks asked you to prom. You had been hoping all month he would ask you. Hell, I even helped him. Told him your favorite musical and which song to sing. I was excited for ya. And then you said yes to him and I wanted to punch him. I never had thought about fighting someone until then. Took me a week to realize why I was so angry."

Oh my God.

"Eight to ten years ago," you confessed. It was Bob's turn to knit his eyebrows together.

"Eight to ten?" He repeated, "Why is there a range?"

"I remember feeling....funny when you came back from boot camp. You had filled out a bit and had on those adorable military issued glasses. But it took me some time to accept what I was feeling," you explained.

How you found those glasses endearing was beyond Bob's understanding. But it didn't agitate him, it was just one of the many things he loved about you.

"That's a lot of time lost," his voice was barely a whisper.

You nodded, "Can we.....can we start making up for it?"

"Yes," he nodded, dropping his head lower, "one hundred percent yes."

His lips were like heaven. He molded his body to yours, chests flushed together, limbs tangled within one another. A hand that spanned the entirety of his neck, his thumb guiding your chin upwards so he could deeper explore your mouth.

"Heard you singing....and it just felt....felt like we were living together," he confessed in between kisses, "felt so right, like that's what it's supposed to be like."

Nodding feverishly, your hands found purchase in his thick hair. Tugging on the sun kissed locks, earning a groan from Bob that made your thighs clench.

"Can....can I touch you?" Always the gentlemen, your Bobby.

"As long as you don't stop."

"Wouldn't dream of it sunshine," his mouth latched onto your neck, leaving open mouth kisses along the side, teeth gently grazing your sensitive skin. A hand grabbed your leg, hitching it to wrap around his waist.

Bob Floyd was fucking heaven.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One TwentySeven

Chrissy has her hands over her mouth. Her eyes are wide and suspiciously wet looking, and Steve cannot read her expression at all, “you let him eat your toes?” She mumbles through her fingers.

“Yeah,” and Steve’s geared up to...something. Defend himself maybe? Defend Eddie? He doesn’t know, but she cuts him off anyway.

“I think that’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” she sighs.

“It...is?”

“Steve, you literally sacrificed a part of yourself to save your one true love,” Chrissy sighs again, one hand supporting her chin now as she stares at them, “Jason wouldn’t even miss a TV football game,” she frowns.

“Steaming turd,” Eddie say solemnly, and then they share a look, and both of them start laughing.

Steve looks between them, frowning, “yeah, well-”

“Oh! Is that why he won’t let me do anything with his hair?”

“I-” Steve starts, then stalls, “what?”

“Well, in school your hair was like...ninety percent of your personality-”

“What-?”

“And, genetically, this makes Eddie part you, right?”

Steve frowns, that thought had never actually occurred to him, “I...guess?”

“And he really doesn’t like being different-” Chrissy gestures vaguely.

“Not different,” Eddie scowls, “little different,” he then immediately concedes.

“I know, I don’t mean it in a bad way honey, you know that right? You’re really cool different, really good different,” Chrissy reassures Eddie immediately, “but in school, Steve’s one job was like...being king of fitting in. Fitting in and having good hair was like, all he had-”

“Hey!”

“Sorry,” she shrugs, “kind of true though. And now Eddie like, has a big thing about both of those things so do you think he like, inherited them from you?”

“No!” Steve crosses his arms, “no I do not think that at all.” Except, now that she’s said it, Steve’s kind of thinking it a little bit. “He just wants to fit in, that’s to be expected considering what he’s been through, don’t you think? Plus, when he came out of the pool all his hair was gone so it’s totally understandable-”

There’s a knocking on the front door, but Steve hears it open before he can get up and Joyce calls, “hello,” through the house. Hopper follows her into the lounge, “we thought better to bring my car than Hoppers truck in case someone is watching,” she shrugs, “don’t want to spook them if they think the laws involved,” she tells them in a conspiratorial whisper.

Hopper rolls his eyes, “she thinks she’s Jessica Fletcher. Kid, you got any beers?”

Steve says, “in the fridge,” at the same time as Eddie says, “no.”

Hopper goes and helps himself, and next to Steve, Eddie grumbles under his breath.

Steve nudges him, “Hopper’s helping us, and we can always get more beer. You only ever drink one at a time anyway.”

Eddie nods, but looks grumpy about it, making Chrissy giggle.

“So, new kid, you all caught up?” Hopper comes back in, bottle in hand.

“There’s an alternate dimension filled with monsters you can reach by opening gates, that’s where Will Byers went missing – that’s your son?” Joyce nods, “but he’s fine now?” Joyce nods again, “okay, good. And your daughter is from a secret government science experiment that was hidden in Hawkins, and she can move stuff with her mind. Eddie is from the upside down and used to be a mermaid.”

Hopper sighs, “close enough, now, what can you tell me about this guy?”

“Uhm...well, he was white. An older guy? Maybe in his sixties, so grey hair?”

“That really narrows it down for me kid.”

Joyce elbows him, “Hop.”

“Did he have an accent?” Steve asks, “like, a Russian accent?”

“Oh, oh no not at all. He was American.”

“Huh.”

“He...all the time wear a shirt, most time a tie and...sometimes…” Eddie mimes doing buttons up the front.

“A coat?”

“No, not coat. Make like Christmas sweater.”

“Oh, a cardigan.”

Eddie nods, “yes.”

Hopper sighs, “an old white guy in a cardigan. How hard could it be,” Joyce elbows him again, “woman!”

“Well...wouldn’t it be safer for Eddie to go away for a little bit?” Joyce suggests.

“No,” Eddie says, frowning and grabbing on to Steve’s elbow, “not the cabin.”

“Oh...oh no honey. I meant further than that, and with Steve. Like a...like a little holiday.”

“Yeah, I don’t want Steve coming back and forth to the cabin, this guy could easily be looking El too,” Hopper adds.

“So where do you-” the front door crashes open, interrupting Steve.

Robin stumbles into the lounge, pink, sweaty, and gasping for breath, “I got here. As fast. As I. Could.”

“Jesus Birdie, did you just ride your bike the whole way here?”

“Yeah,” she caves in, bending to rest her hands on her knees, chest heaving.

Eddie nods, eyeing the state of Robin, “bikes are dangerous,” he points out sagely.

Steve shakes his head, watching as Robin regains her composure enough to share a quick smile with Chrissy. They do an awkward little finger wave at each other across the four feet of lounge they’re separated by. Steve’s going to have to grill her at some point.

“How did you even know?” Steve asks her.

“Oh, well El was there when you called Hopper, and she walkied Max-”

“Right. Right. Never mind I get it,” Steve stops her before she relays the entire chain of events.

Robin slides onto the couch, a very proper foot of space between her and Chrissy. Steve raises an eyebrow. Well? Robin glares at him. Fuck off.

“How about Ray’s place?” Joyce asks.

“Yeah, yeah,” Hopper agrees, like he was already considering it, “I’ll go call him.”

Hopper shuffles into the hall, “fishing Buddy,” Joyce elaborates, “Hopper uses his cabin all the time, it’s right on a lake.”

“It is not ‘all the time’,” Hopper grumbles from out in the hall.

“Feels like it,” Joyce whispers.

“You going into hiding?” Robin asks, excited.

“Yeah...I mean...maybe?” Steve hedges.

“On holiday,” Eddie adds, before frowning, “Chrissy? Can I have holiday? From work?”

Chrissy snorts a laugh, but then very seriously adds, “I think under the circumstances I can excuse the short notice.”

“I could help!” Robin starts eagerly, before she dials down her excitement, “I mean. I could help out, with the flowers, as long as I’m not at Family Video. Oh! Maybe the guy will come in and-!”

“And you could nothing,” Steve tells her, “Robs, seriously, leave it to Hopper, please?”

“Fine,” Robin grumbles.

“I’ll be really glad of your help though,” Chrissy smiles at her, which seems to perk Robin right back up again.

“Oh shit.” Steve sighs, “Keith.”

“Well, you know that elderly aunt you’re really close to? She was super sick over Christmas and you had to help her out?”

“Sure..?” Steve answers vaguely.

“I think she finally just died,” Robin grins.

“Great.”

Eddie has his nose practically pressed to the window glass, “cows!”

“Yeah,” Steve smiles, “yep. Real life cows.”

“Different colors?”

“Yeah, you get chocolate milk from the brown ones.”

Eddie’s head snaps round so fast Steve’s surprised he didn’t hear his neck crack, “really?? The cows in my book are black and white.”

“Yeap, black and white ones make regular milk,” and Steve almost, almost pulls it off, but Eddie starts to frown as he thinks about it, and Steve can’t hide his smile any more.

“Lie,” Eddie says, grinning happily before he goes back to looking out of the window, “funny lie Stevie.”

The town is pretty much exactly as Hopper described; a little touristy, a little kitschy. Bigger than Hawkins. There’s a good will and a record store, and Hopper said that there’s a library in town somewhere. They drive past a busy looking diner and a fair sized grocery store. The gas station is exactly where Hopper said it would be.

It’s busy enough, but clearly filled with a lot of visitors; there’s three outdoor supply stores pretty much on the same block, which figures considering what Hopper said about people passing through, visiting the lakes or going hiking. There’s one store that seems to cater exclusively to merchandise for tourists if the rack of hats and shirts outside is anything to go by.

Once out the far side of town, Steve figures then they’ve driven the mile and a half Hopper directed before finding the turning, and then another mile later finding the over grown, rutted drive that leads up to the cabin. It’s real quiet, the road clearly not used often, and there’s plenty of ‘Private Road – No Entry’ signs at the turning of the lane.

The cabin is nestled amongst the trees, a long, squat thing with a shingled roof and peeling white window frames. There’s a screen door set in the middle and not much else to look at on this side. Steve can already see the little lean too built on the end though, just poking out; it has it’s own vents and chimney and houses the generator. There’s another, open sided shelter next to that, stacked with firewood. Steve figures they won’t need to light the fire much, unless it gets chilly in the evenings. It might, he figures, this close to the water.

Eddie hops out immediately, heading to the cabin and opening the squeaky screen door before letting himself in with the key Hopper gave them.

‘Keep the cans for the generator topped up, if you use anything from the pantry replace it, and for the love of god take your own bedding and towels. Trust me. There’s a coffee can on top of the fridge, I usually shove a few dollars in there as a thank you, oh, and you'll have to go into town if you need to do laundry.’ They were pretty much the only other instructions Hopper had given, but so far everything seems to be exactly as Hopper said it would be.

Steve’s gathering things from the car when Eddie comes back out again to help, “hows the inside?”

Eddie wrinkles his nose, “dusty.”

“Well...we can soon fix that.”

They get unpacked. Eddie dusts and packs things away while Steve tops off the generator and gets it started. He puts the now empty gas can in the trunk, ready for when they go into town. He goes inside the check the fridge is running, then raids the pantry. Some of the cans in there don’t even have labels on, a few even rusting a little, and Steve doesn’t really feel like pot luck or food poisoning for dinner, “want to get groceries?”

“Yeah. I can’t find the vacuum.”

“Oh…” Steve comes and looks, checking in all the likely places, before he finds a little rotary carpet sweeper, showing Eddie how to use it.

Eddie does the whole cabin in less than ten minutes, carefully knocking the dust outside after, “trash bags?” he asks on his way past, and Steve adds them to the grocery list.

The cabin is comfortable inside, if a little lived in. All the furniture looks, at the very least, older than Steve.

Some of it might give Hopper a run for his money.

But, yeah, it’s a tidy little space, and the couch in front of the fire is nice. “Listen later?” Eddie asks when he dusts off the record collection.

“Sure, ready to go now? The fridge should be cold enough by the time we get back.”

Eddie nods, retrieving his jar of cash and shoving some in his wallet, “ready.”

They squeeze into the phone box together; there’s no phone line at the cabin, and Hopper did warn them about that.

Eddie huddles close, Steve holding the receiver so they can both hear it ring, loose change in his pocket at the ready. Steve speaks to Robin’s mother very briefly, and then Robin and Chrissy are both on the line. Steve can imagine it in his head, cord stretched at it’s max to reach inside the door of Robins room, both of them standing close so they can hear, the same as Steve as Eddie are now.

“What’s it like?” Chrissy asks.

“Nice,” Eddie tells her, “I cleaned the dust.”

“Good job, and is the lake pretty?”

“Yeah. Lots of trees.”

“Steve,” Robin cuts across, “is it like, actually alright?”

“Yeah,” Steve reassures her, “it’s pretty good actually, the couch is comfy and the dock looks nice. Generator started up fine. We’ll be okay. Just gonna’ go get some groceries and settle in for the night. Eddie found a record player and there’s a bunch of movies.”

“Library?” Eddie asks.

“Sure, we can find that tomorrow maybe.”

The last thing they did as they were leaving Hawkins was to return Eddie’s books, he was worried they would overrun if they were gone too long.

They wrap up their short check in, the girls promising to let everyone else they arrived fine. Steve also makes Robin promise not to do anything stupid, which, she does promise, but Steve is absolutely certain she has her fingers crossed as she says it.

They carry a bag each into the cabin, Eddie immediately opening the fridge and declaring it cold inside. The groceries get unpacked, and Steve finishes unpacking and making up the bed while Eddie unpacks his pencils and notebooks.

With that done, Steve makes them both coffee, “come on, lets go and look at the lake.”

Hopper warned them there was no outdoor furniture and he always brings his own folding chair, but Steve and Eddie are content to sit on the planks of the short dock and watch the water, “the sun set is so pretty.” And it is, dusky oranges and pinks reflected on the water, the sky going dark at the edges.

It’s kind of romantic, sitting here. There’s just the very quiet lap of the water to listen to, the occasional soft sound of the breeze through the trees. It’s...quiet. Soothing. Steve lets go of the breath he’s been half holding since Chrissy and Eddie piled through the front door yesterday afternoon. There’s no mystery old dude here. Whoever is looking for Eddie, he won’t have a clue where they’ve gone.

Eddie’s safe again, right now. Steve’s fairly confident Hopper will find the guy, Hawkins isn’t that big, and if he’s brazen enough to outright be asking questions about Starcourt, surely he will be easy enough to turn up.

Steve hopes so, anyway.

They’ve finished their coffees, the sun slowly setting. The temperature has dropped a little, while they’ve been sitting watching the colors on the water, and Eddie snuggles into Steve’s side, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder, absently dragging his nails lightly on the material of Steve’s jeans.

He’s always fiddling with something, Steve thinks vaguely. He wonders absently if it’s just because everything is still so new, Eddie always chasing sensations. Steve can't blame him for wanting to try things, for wanting to try everything.

“Dark here, at night?” Eddie asks, shaking Steve from his thoughts.

“Yeah. Really dark I think. No lights from other houses or street lights or anything.”

Eddie hums, “see the stars?”

“Oh...oh yeah, they’re going to be super bright here. You...I don’t suppose you ever saw them, in the Upside Down?”

“No...first time here,” Eddie lifts a hand, flashing his fingers open and closed at the sky, “many pretty.”

It’s not fair of Steve to deny Eddie anything, especially not because of his own hang ups. And he promised himself he would be better about all this.

And it is romantic, sitting here on the deck, the sun just a hint of light on the horizon now, mostly hidden by the forest.

Eddie hugs his mug to his chest, perking up when the breeze rustles the trees, louder now, “the trees are different.”

Steve looks around, “yeah, I guess. They’re...older than at home. Wild. Kind of.” They are closer together, and a lot bigger than the ones at home. It highlights that the trees at the bottom of the yard were probably carefully curated and deliberately planted at some point. Comparatively the trees here are...huge. Much more established.

A bird screeches, and Eddie startles, leaning more firmly into Steve’s side. Steve puts an arm around him. “Called?”

“Oh...it was just a bird. Probably different to the kind we get at home, that’s all. You want to go in and listen to a record?” Eddie nods, “and maybe...we could try me giving you a blowjob?”

Part TwentyNine

[mickandmusings]

vi. 'tis the damn season

part of the 'hangman & honey' series!

summary: for the past six months, jake has spent every spare moment attempting to mend communication between he and honey. for months, he uses his phone calls to phone her, leave long voicemails, and writes her multiple letters a week. his efforts come with no avail, she never calls or writes him back. with christmas around the corner, jake makes his way back home to texas, but not before making an important stop along the way.

word count: 6.1k

warnings: 18+ mdni!! (dirty talk, but no explicit descriptions); definite military inaccuracies; definite college inaccuracies; general angst; christmas story in august?

-

'Dear Honey,

I know this is the third or fourth letter this week, and I'm not even sure if you're receiving these, but I can't just not write to you. I left you another voicemail, and I'm not sure if you're listening to those either, but I have talked to you nearly everyday since we were nine, and, well, that's not a habit you break easily. I called you on your birthday last week and left a message, and I sent you a card, I hope you got them both.

Honey, I'm sorry. I'll say it in every voicemail and every letter until you believe me. I shouldn't have taken so long to tell you the truth. I regret it. If I could take it all back, you know I would. I didn't do it to hurt you, I never want to hurt you. But I know I did, and no words I could say or write will change that. I'm sorry. I'll say it over and over again until you understand how much I mean that.

I know you likely don't want to hear about my time here, but I've always told you everything. If you don't want to hear me talk about it, I thought you might read about it. I can't ever remember a time you weren't reading.

Life here is different. Not bad, just...hard. The weather is certainly cooler than the winters back home. We even got snow, true snow, not the shitty kind we get in Haven. It sticks to the ground, and you can actually play in it, not just bust your ass on ice and sleet. Things are always very routine and strict, but, considering it's a week til Christmas break, things are looking up. Honestly, I've never been more ready to go back home to Texas. Granny said she spoke to you about coming home for Christmas, since you missed Thanksgiving? I really hope you'll come around. I miss you, Honey. I haven't heard your voice since that voicemail you sent me in October. Look, you can stay at the other house, I'll set it up for you before you even get here. Or, I'll stay there, and you can have our my room. You don't even have to talk to me, just please come. Just seeing you would be enough.

My bunkmate, Javy, the one I've mentioned to you for the past few months, he's from New Orleans. He's coming home for Christmas, and he's going to drop me off at the airport there. I'll fly back to Austin from there, and Pawpaw will be there to pick me up. Sometimes, at night or when we have spare time, Javy tells me about his life back home in Louisiana. More often than not, it makes me think of you. They make me think of the birthday beignets you make for Pawpaw, and how you'd make us gumbo in the winter. Frankly, everything makes me think of you. Honey, I see you everywhere. There are these bushes outside Bancroft Hall, and they're full of these little white and red flowers. I'm not sure what they're called, but they're pretty, and I know you'd love them. There's a kid in one of my morning classes, and he's got your accent too. It's nice to hear, I haven't heard your voice in so long. I hope the Magnolia State is treating you well. I imagine you're much happier with your favorite flower all around you.

I don't have much else to tell you about. I'd like to tell you my other stories when we're face to face again. I just wanted to let you know I miss you, and I love you, always. Call me back or write to me whenever you get the chance, if you're feeling up to it.

All my love,

Jake'

Honey holds the paper tightly in her hands, letting it crinkle under the pressure of her grasp. If he'd sent this letter when they'd first split, she'd have balled it up or ripped it to pieces with her blinding, white-hot rage. She had been so angry when she'd first moved away, ignoring his incessant phone calls and numerous voicemails. She had let his letters pile up on her desk, unopened and unread. In the chance that he'd sent this letter just a few months later, she would have stained the ink of his letters with her tears. After her anger came a fierce sadness, one that seeped into her bones and left her incapacitated, ridden with the agony that threatened to pull her under like a rogue wave. But now, as she stares down at Jake's scratchy handwriting across the lined paper, she simply feels numb. His letter does not spark an onslaught of tears or suffocating sobs that leave her chest heaving. She simply folds the letter back up and slides it back into its envelope, placing it gently on her desktop, deciding to deal with it later, much like the emotions it evoked.

She knows she shouldn't, but she grabs the familiar orange sweatshirt that lives on her bed and throws it over her head. It comes to her knees and the sleeves are far too long, but it provides her with a comfort she almost wishes it didn't. In her tiny dorm room in Starkville, her small college town (although bigger than Haven,) she feels isolated. Her entire life for the past six months had simply been going-through-the-motions of life: wake up, go to class, come home, study, finish assignments, work a shift at her on-campus job, shower, repeat. Life had become monotonous, something that her life with Jake never was.

She knows she shouldn't wallow. She should try and get out, make more friends-more than just the lady at the circulation desk in the library-and try to enjoy her life at nineteen. But, once again, that gnawing, creeping feeling infiltrates her chest, Honey wasn't like her classmates. She wouldn't enjoy sitting in a bar or attending a frat party. She'd sit in the corner alone, nursing a drink she likely wouldn't finish, and leave with an Irish goodbye. Now, all she had was a sweatshirt that smelled faintly of the boy she once slept next to each night, and it was her only source of comfort.

Honey knows she should get up and call Mrs. Janet, to let her know that she's okay, and that she was settled. The last time she'd spoken to her or Mr. Jacob had been nearly two weeks ago. She should call Haley and Sarah Grace back, both of her hometown friends had been calling since they'd met up for the last time in October. She knows she should stop shutting those who loved her out-Jake included-but that was a different situation entirely.

Instead of doing any of the aforementioned, she simply sinks into her comforter and puts her headphones on, effectively shutting out the rest of the world. She was glad her roommate had left for her own home state, leaving her alone in the dorm room for the next two weeks. Deep down, Honey knew she was lying to herself. She yearned for the feeling of home, her true home, on a farm in Texas. She craved Mrs. Janet's cowboy cookies that she made at least two dozen too many of, and Mr. Jacob's Christmas ham that took hours to get just right, but was so worth it when it practically melted in her mouth. She missed sitting around a room full of the Seresin family, watching the children open new toys and heaps of candy. She'd laugh as they opened new clothes with sour faces, quickly ditching them for the next box in shiny wrapping. Their childlike joy made her own flare, leaving her chest warm as she giggled quietly in Jake's arms. She missed Jake sneaking them eggnog from the kitchen, and the babbling laughter they erupted into when they realized no matter how much older they got, it was always just as disgusting as the first time he'd snuck it when they were thirteen. Mostly, she missed the warm, peaceful feeling she felt when she was in a room full of people she loved most. In a bout of honesty, she admits that maybe, just maybe, she just missed Jake.

Through her headphones, she can hear the rain patter against her window, and she sighs, the weather only adding to her melancholy mood. Honey knew if she chose to rot in bed, her emotions would only grow heavier, so with a deep sigh, she rolls out of bed and slides on her worn sneakers. She takes off Jake's Longhorns hoodie and swaps it for her own, tosses the hood over her head, and grabs the keys to Jake's truck. She grabs her finished library books to return, and her wallet, deciding to wallow in the secluded section of the library instead. She walks out of her dorm room, locks the door, and takes the stairs down to the lobby. She pushes the door open and heads out into the rain.

Honey would never make it to the library that day.

-

Two weeks prior...

"You scribblin' away for that girl again, Seresin?"

Javy's voice fills Jake's ears, and Jake doesn't bother looking up as he shoots his roommate a middle finger salute. Javy laughs at the action before climbing into his top bunk, leaning his head against his pillow. There's silence between the two before Javy's voice cuts through again.

"So when are you gonna tell me about her?"

From the second that Javy had met Jake, it seemed like something was weighing his bunkmate down. It wasn't until a week or so later, when they both were calling home, that Javy learned it wasn't something, it was someone. Jake kept information about his girl on lock, so Javy knew little information: her name was Honey, which Javy found odd, but brushed it off. She was studying English at a college in Mississippi, and Jake had, somehow, royally fucked things up with her before he'd come to the Academy.

Jake sighs, stopping his writing as he looks up at his friend on the top bunk.

"If I tell you, will you shut up for ten minutes so I can write?"

Javy nods, his brown eyes sparkling with a stream of questions he'd been burning to ask.

"Fine, what'dya want to know?"

Javy is quiet for a moment, looking up at the ceiling, as if pondering something.

"What's she like? Wait! No, let me guess! She was a cheerleader, pretty little thing, prom queen, the whole nine-yards to your little All-American thing."

Jake lets out a laugh, thinking of Honey as he shakes his head.

"You couldn't be more wrong. Except the pretty part, she-she's gorgeous."

"Really?" Javy sits up and leans over the metal railing of the bunk. "What? Is she like some metal chick with the eyeliner?"

Javy motions around his eye to emphasize his point.

Jake's eyes widened, continuing to shake his head.

"Definitely not."

"Then what's she like? C'mon man, you gotta give me something! You're always callin' her and writin' her, and I never see you get a response. She got you under Love Potion Number Nine or something? She do the whole magic thing? Can't trust that man."

"No, no, she's not like that. She's-," Jake pauses, trying to find the most accurate words to describe Honey. "She's quiet, shy, she's practically the opposite of me. She likes to read, a lot. I don't think there's ever been a time in our lives when she didn't have a book in her hand. She's kind, never lacking patience when it comes to all of my bullshit. And smart, ridiculously so, she's the smartest person I know. Honey is...witty, and funny, she's got this sarcastic sense of humor that you'd never expect from her. W-We've been friends since we were kids. We started datin' in high school, and we had this fight before I came here, and, obviously, she's still mad about it, so...yeah."

Javy notes the glimmer in Jake's eyes as he talks about his girlfriend, a small smile forming across his lips. Javy hadn't known Jake for more than six months, but this was probably the happiest he'd seen his bunkmate. Javy shrugs, giving his friend another incredulous look.

"So what are you gonna do about it, Seresin?"

Jake's jade eyes look up at him, his letter finished but suddenly forgotten.

"What do you mean? She obviously doesn't want to speak to me. The only time she's spoken to me in six months is when she left me a drunk voicemail on Halloween, saying how I made her cry. What am I supposed to do with that? If she saw me, she'd probably knock my lights out."

Javy shrugs. "But do you love her?"

Jake looks down at his well-kept shoes.

"More than she'll ever know."

"You said she's studying in Starkville? You think she's going back to Texas for Christmas?"

"It's unlikely," Jake responds, his voice somber at the admission. "Why?"

"Well," Javy props back onto his pillow, his hands tucked under his head. "I'm driving back home for Christmas, passin' right through Mississippi. It sounds like if you messed this up, you need to be the one to fix it. Show her you haven't given up, and you want her back. If you surprise her, maybe she'll give you a chance to explain yourself."

Jake's heart hammers in his chest, his friend's plan wasn't entirely bad. Jake looks up at his bunkmate, his face set in a knowing look.

"Honey hates surprises."

"And you hate living without her, which one will be worse: her temporary anger, or never speakin' to her again?"

Jake sighs, he hates that Javy was right. Maybe it was a stupid idea, cancelling his flight back home from Austin, tagging along on a road trip with Javy to get the love of his life back. But, a week later, Jake's duffel was slung into the backseat of Javy's car haphazardly as he rode shotgun, giving his friend directions toward a small Mississippi town.

-

Now, Honey makes her way across the rainy parking lot. Through her blurry eyesight, she quickly finds Jake's truck in the nearly empty parking lot. She fishes the key from the bundle of keys in her hand, sliding it into the key slot on the door and unlocking the door. Before she could remove the key and pop open the door, Honey hears a voice call out her name. She pauses, and for a split second, she thinks she hears Jake's voice. She shakes her head, pulling at the driver's side door. It was often shut too hard, and she had to pull with a good portion of her strength to get it to open. As she tugs on the handle, she hears it again, her name in Jake's voice. She tugs harder, thinking she was finally losing her mind.

"Honey, wait!"

The footsteps behind her alert her that the voice she had been hearing likely wasn't just a hallucination. She turns abruptly, and her heart stops in her chest. There, standing before her in a rain-soaked Navy sweatshirt and jeans, his significantly shorter blonde locks plastered against his forehead, was one Jake Seresin. Honey's eyes widened in shock, the breath in her chest growing short and ragged. She pulls her books closer to her chest, an action of both shock and keeping them as dry as possible. Her eyes dart back and forth between his own. She's quiet for a moment, rendered completely speechless.

"Jake?!" Her eyebrows furrowed. "What the hell are you doing here?! You-You're supposed to be on a plane to Austin right now!"

Jake stands in front of her, motionless, as his eyes take her in completely. It had been so long since he'd seen her, and he simply wanted to peer at her forever. She hadn't changed much, she was still shorter than him in stature, still an avid reader by the small pile of books she'd finally tossed onto the truck seat, but her eyes didn't quite shine like they once had. Jake's heart hammered in his chest, staring at the girl he loved standing in front of him in the pouring rain, arms crossed over her chest, shivering in the cold.

"Jake, hey?!" She waves her hand in front of his face, attempting to gain his attention. "What are you doing here?!"

Honey's voice is loud enough to hear over the rain pelting around them both. Her eyes are wide as he looks down at her, his hands itch to touch her, but he keeps them at his side. He takes another look into her eyes, and he simply loses every ounce of control he has. He takes a step forward towards her, his hands come to rest on either side of her face. Honey wants to knock his hands away, she wants to let her anger simmer forever, but the warmth of his calloused touch provides her with a comfort she hadn't felt in so long. If it had not been raining so fiercely, both halves of the pair would realize the tears running down one another's face. He's silent for a long moment, simply taking in her face for the first time in months.

"Honey, I-I fucked up," Jake starts, his voice trembling with a flurry of emotions. "Honey, I fucked up so, so bad."

He pauses, allowing the rain to soak through both their clothes, his thumb brushing carefully against her cheek. His bottom lip trembles, his hands beginning to shake against her face. Honey says nothing, only braving a look into his green eyes darkening with tears.

"I-I've apologized a thousand times over the past six months and it's not enough. It'll never be enough, because knowin' I hurt you?" He pauses and shakes his head with his lips pressed into a fine line, effectively keeping him from bursting into sobs. "Honey, that shit has ripped me to shreds everyday since you left. I-I never meant to hurt you, ever. I'll spend the rest of my life apologizin' to you if that's what you want." His eyes bore into her own, his breaths shaky.

"I'll spend the rest of my life on hands and knees, grovelin' if that's what you want. A-And if you tell me to fuck off and never speak to you again, I-I'll do it. Just-just know that all of me-body, heart, soul, everything I am-it belongs to you. If you've decided that you're movin' on, and you want to do everythin' we planned with someone else, I won't try to stop it. But, you have to know somethin', and I need you to understand that it doesn't matter if you move to Canada, o-or you stay here, or you move back to Haven, my heart forever sits in your hands. It's yours, forever, whether I have yours or not. That house on my grandparent's farm? I fixed it for you, it's yours. This truck? It's yours, take it. Honey, you can have whatever you want, I'll buy you whatever you want, I'll make it if I can't buy it. Tell me what you want, and I'll make it happen. Whatever it is, baby, it's yours."

His chest moves quickly with his rapid breaths, his hands shaking from his contained emotions. Honey simply looks at him, still a bit shocked that he's standing in front of her. If she wasn't overwhelmed by the landslide of apologies he'd just spouted, she'd have given him her own back. Instead, she stands a bit still, her chest just as heavy as his. He mistakes her silence as rejection, and his face falls as he gives a subtle nod of his head. His hands move from her face, and, in that split second, Honey is shocked into action. She wouldn't lose him again, she couldn't lose him again. In one quick swoop, she grabs the wrists of his sweatshirt, pulling his attention back to her. She speaks a tad louder than her normal tone, ensuring he would hear her over the pelting rain.

"You, all I want is you. That-That's all I've ever wanted, Jake!"

He catches a glimpse of her face, her cheeks pink as she shivers, but her eyes, they were the same love-filled gaze he'd remembered. He wanted to begin another string of apologies, to assure her that he meant everything he said, but he never got the chance. In an action almost completely out of nature for the shy girl he knew, her arms were around his neck, pulling his lips towards hers in a heated passion. He wasted no time in indulging in the action, his hands coming to her hips, lifting her a bit higher to deepen the kiss. The sweet kiss quickly turns to a clash of teeth and heated movements, and Jake quickly hoists her up, her legs wrapping around his waist as if it were muscle memory.

From his car across the lot, Javy shakes his head and smiles as the two embrace one another. He cranks his car back up, backs out of the parking spot and turns back onto the main road. He shakes his head as he thinks of his friend, mumbling to himself as he drives:

"Tis the damn season, Seresin, you lucky dog."

Back at the school, it only takes a split second for the couple's kiss to grow a bit too intense for the parking lot setting, and, without thinking, Jake pulls her through the lobby's double doors and into the elevator, where the two finally break apart for a split second.

"J-Jake, I-I never should've left like that, I-,"

She doesn't get to finish, Jake's lips are back on hers, this time with more fervor than before. Honey shudders, with both the cold from her wet clothes and the heat building in her torso. They break apart as the elevator dings, and Honey is pulling Jake by the hand back to her dorm. She all but shoves him inside, locking the door behind her. Jake wastes no time in crossing back to her, slowly pulling off the hood of her hoodie, his eyes widening when he glances at her mostly dry hair.

"Y-Your hair, it's...shorter."

She chuckles. "Yeah, I just needed a change...you're one to talk, J, I've never seen your hair that short."

He pulls her in closer by her hips, lifting the soaked hoodie over her head as he speaks.

"Yeah, well, plebe summer wasn't my best look, you're just lucky you missed me bald, baby."

Even in the dim light of the dorm room, Jake notes the darkening look of her gaze, her lids growing heavier with desire. Honey's hand comes to the short hair growing on the nape of his neck, her head cocking to the side as she threads her fingers through the new growth, a look on her face he can't quite place. He pulls her flush against him, attempting to read her look.

"Hm, yeah," she starts. "I'm real glad I missed that part. Y'know, why?"

The girl below him moves to kiss the underside of his jaw, making his hands tighten on the grip he has on her hips.

"Why's that, baby?"

Honey's lips move to his neck, his hands slipping past her hips and to the round of her bottom. Above all else, Jake Seresin had been raised to be a Southern gentleman, but his resolve was slipping.

"Because," Honey starts, her accent slipping through, causing the heat in Jake's lower half to grow unbearable as her lips continue their course down his skin. "I like havin' somethin' to hold onto when you're between my thighs."

Long gone was Honey's shy demeanor, and long gone was Jake's gentlemanly resolution. Without a word, he's tossing his own damp sweatshirt over his head and throwing it to the floor with her own. Honey has ditched her drenched shirt and sweatpants, now standing nearly bare between Jake's arms. Without a second of hesitation, Jake pulls her onto the ridiculously small bed, but he pays it no mind, more focused on the grinning girl beneath him. He kisses her lips passionately, his hands resting on her bare thighs. His own heart hammers, and, as he kisses down Honey's neck, he can feel her own beating just as loudly. He pulls away, tossing off his damp jeans to the floor. He looks down at her almost bare frame, his emerald eys heavy with lust, but his voice is cased in affection.

"If this is what you want, that's certainly fine with me, but I need to hear you say it, baby."

Honey looks up at Jake's kind but intense gaze, her heart slowing a bit.

"After that whole The Notebook-esque apology you pulled, yes, I want this."

She nods in confirmation, and Jake wastes no time in attaching his lips back to hers. Honey's hands fly back to his hair, her fingers digging into his locks. Jake's hands come to her torso, carefully sliding off the clothing constricting her chest and tossing it onto the floor. He pauses for a brief moment, staring down as he hovers over her. Honey looks up at him, her head cocking to the side.

"Jake? Hey, what's the matter?"

Jake's mind is in overdrive, and he simply feels the urge to stop and stare at her. She's bare before him, cheeks flushed, eyes blazing with affection. Jake swallows thickly as he pushes hair out of her face.

"Honey, you-you're beautiful. I am the luckiest man on fuckin' Earth, baby."

Honey blushes at his compliment, pulling him back in with a heated kiss.

"You're such a smooth talker, Seresin...but right now, I need you to use that mouth of yours for somethin' other than talkin'."

Jake grins from ear to ear, the usual smirk she's used to seeing painted across his face. His thumb brushes against the fabric adorning her hip, gently pushing it down. He tosses them to the floor along with the other clothes they'd shed, and nudges his way in between her legs. Heat fills the space between them completely as he speaks:

"Yes ma'am."

-

Hours later, in the late hours of the night, Honey is woken by the vibrating of something nearby. Jake-who has her pressed into his chest with the strength of a bear-doesn't budge. Honey, ever the light sleeper, groans, lightly tapping Jake's shoulders. His body moves, but he simply curls back into their shared pillow. She shoves him again, a little harder this time as she speaks.

"Jake," Her words receive no response, so she speaks again. "Jake!"

It's Jake's turn to groan, his arms pulling her closer to his bare chest.

"Hm? What is it, baby?"

Honey's lack-of-sleep induced annoyance fades at the nickname she so adores.

"Your phone is ringing."

Jake groans again, slipping out from under the blush pink sheets and searching for his phone that he assumed was still lodged into his jean pocket. Honey opts to glance at his newly toned arms and strong, broad shoulders, his time training in Maryland obviously having physical gain. He hits the button on the screen, not bothering to look at the caller ID, and speaks:

"Hello?"

"Jacob Thomas! Where the hell are you?!" His grandfather's voice fills his ears, and Jake pales. Shit. He had completely forgotten to tell his grandparents about his detour. "I've been sitting at the airport for three hours, son!"

"Pawpaw, I-I'm sorry, Javy just decided to take me all the way back to-" He's cut off abruptly.

"Look, that's fine, but you could've called. Your grandmother's callin' and she's pissed, son. Just get home, alright? Preferably sometime before Christmas Eve? She's already distraught about Honey not comin' around, so, the sooner the better. Heard?"

"Loud and clear."

"Alright, well, I love you, kid. Be careful."

"Love you too."

Jake hangs up the phone, crawling back into Honey's sheets and pulling her back into his arms. Honey's nose burrows into the crook of his neck, Jake's warm skin against her own far warmer than any blanket she owned. Jake's hand ghosted against her side, the other threading through her hair. His voice is low and soft as he speaks:

"How do you feel about Christmas in Texas?"

Honey's eyes open, looking up at her boyfriend with a shy smile, completely retreating back into her usual quiet self, a stark difference from the heated confidence that had run through her only hours before. Her eyes glimmered in the moonlight, a wide grin on her face as she buries herself back into his neck, his toned arms pulling her in tightly.

"I don't know if they'd even want me there, I should've called Mrs. Janet back, haven't responded in like two weeks."

Jake scoffs, pushing back a hair from her face.

"Don't even think like that. They're gonna be more excited to see you than me."

"Guess we'll find out." Honey pushes up from her spot next to Jake, sliding out of bed and slipping on new clothes before packing a small bag for the road. Jake watches from the bed, a smile across his face. He rests his hands behind his head, his blonde locks tossed about from their rendezvous. Honey turns to him once she's dressed.

"Are you gonna show up like that? Not that I mind this look, but your grandmother might have some issues with it." She laughs lightly, tossing him his now dry shirt. "You might want to get dressed, babe."

Honey stills and grows red when the nickname falls from her lips without any thought. She turns to Jake, his eyebrow furrowed humorously at the nickname, his right pointer finger beckons her closer. She stands next to him beside the bed, his hand pulling her in by the waist.

"Where did that come from?"

"I-I don't know," she admits bashfully. "B-But if you don't like it-"

"Baby, I more than liked it."

He pulls her closer, plopping her back into the sheets with him. She practically rests completely atop him. His hands move to pull up her shirt, his hands resting on her now bare waist. She makes note of his gaze darkening as he looks down at her, his arousal evident against her leg.

"Jake," her voice is a whisper. "We should really get on the road."

Jake smirks, his lips now kissing the sweet spot behind her ear.

"I'll get up as soon as you do."

Unable to resist one another, they were nearly another two hours before they got back on the road. After those hours and a ridiculously long drive back home to Haven, Honey now rested comfortably in the passenger side of Jake's her truck, Jake's thumb rubbing against her thigh. Both of them were incredibly tired from the prolonged trip, and more than ready to collapse into his childhood bed they'd shared for years. As Jake turned onto Seresin Farm Road, Honey felt her nerves kick in. Despite her excitement to return to the home that had nurtured her, she worried that she was going to be a burden for Janet and Jacob. She hadn't told either of them that she'd be coming home, and Jake hadn't either. She slid closer in the seat to Jake, her head resting on his arm. He looks down at her as they pass one of the many fields on the property.

"You alright, baby? You're lookin' a little out of it."

"M'fine, just nervous."

Jake's eyes cut down at her. "Nervous?"

"It's stupid, I know. I just, didn't tell anyone I was coming, and I don't want to be a burden to your grandparents."

"Honey, you're family. You don't have to let us know you're comin'."

Honey smiles, her nerves fading as the house comes into view. Jake parks the truck, the backwards baseball cap over his head covering his short, blonde locks completely. He cuts her a sly grin, a look of mischief drawn across his face.

"Want to really surprise them?"

Honey cocks her head, puzzled. Jake simply kisses her cheek and hops out of the truck, moving to open the door on her side. He comes to the front door, opening it and promptly hiding Honey behind his taller frame. He comes to the entrance of the kitchen, raising his finger to his lips as he leaves her only a few feet away in the foyer. She can hear his boots against the hardwood as he walks.

"Hey," he speaks simply, both Janet and Jacob Sr.'s eyes cutting to their grandson standing in their doorway.

"Jacob! You scared the devil outta me! Get over here!" Janet shuffles the towering young man into a hug after lightly chastising him.

"Sorry I'm late," Jake's voice is muffled against his grandmother's neck. "Had to make a detour and pick up a little surprise for you."

His grandmother pulls away, her eyebrows furrowed as she gives the blonde a questioning look. "Surprise?"

Jake sends her a blinding smile. He pokes his head around the corner, beckoning Honey forward with his pointer finger. Honey shakes her head as she approaches, and Jake slings his arm around her shoulder.

"Hi," Honey speaks quietly. Janet and Jacob Sr. both turn, smiles painting across their faces.

"Honey! Oh my, sweet girl, you did surprise us!" Janet's voice is bubbly as she shuffles over to her grandson's girlfriend, pulling her into a tight hug. "Oh! And look at that hair, it's just darlin' on you!"

Honey feels her heart hammer, and she has to swallow down her tears as the older woman embraces her. Jake's grandfather follows suit, and Honey can no longer stop the tears rolling down her face. Janet wipes them away with the back of her hand.

"You alright there, Hon?" Jacob Sr. fills her ears. Honey nods through her tears, crossing the kitchen back to Jake's arms. He pulls her close, kissing the crown of her head as her tears stain his shirt. Janet's eyes gleam as she sees the two being affectionate again. She had been so worried about them both being apart for so long.

"I'm fine, promise." Honey's voice wobbles slightly. "I'm just really, really happy to be home. I didn't want to be a burden, but, I-I've really missed you guys."

"Oh nonsense! I promise we're happy to have you home, sweetheart." Janet's own face wobbles with emotion. "Now, c'mon, I'm glad I waited to make desserts, now I've got double the help."

She shuffles her bowls of ingredients around on the counter and Honey pulls away from Jake, more than happy to lend a hand with making sweets. Jake slips out of the kitchen to allow them to share their moment, and finds himself lounging next to his grandfather in the living room.

The graying man peers up at him over his glasses, giving him a satisfied look.

"Smart move there, son."

Jake directs his eyes from the black and white film on the TV to his grandfather.

"What do you mean?"

"Bringin' Honey home, makin' things right with her. Me and your Granny learned real quick this place doesn't feel the same when you two aren't around."

Jake smiles, shocked by the amount of emotion behind his usually stoic grandfather's words. The older man only gives him a hint of a smile before focusing on his western movie again. Jake listens as he hears Honey's laughter from the kitchen, and for the first time in six months, he feels content. Exhausted from hours of driving and he and Honey's activities in her dorm, he falls asleep on the couch.

Later, after Honey and Janet have finished their baking for the night, Honey spots Jake sprawled across the sofa, his boots and hat abandoned at the end. She covers him up with the blanket that rests behind him, placing a kiss on his forehead. She hadn't intended to wake him, but his eyes popped open. He's not fully awake, still a little bleary eyed as his hands fumble for her torso.

"C'mon, J, you're tired. Let's go to bed."

"Hm, lead the way, baby."

That night, Jake sleeps with Honey under his chin, tucked comfortably into his hold as tightly as possible. He dreams of Honey vividly-although mundane and simple, his dreams are a comfort: them sitting placidly with one another as she reads and he looks on as her voice fills his ears. For the first time in nearly six months, both of them slept peacefully and deeply, in a way they never could without sleeping next to one another. Tomorrow, when the Texas sun blares through Jake's thin curtains, they'll both be thrown headfirst into holiday preparations. But tonight, under the same roof where their story had ended, it begins again: Honey, in Jake's arms, sleeping content and comfortable in the bedroom up the stairs.

-

taglist:

@djs8891

@unattainablesillygoose

@psuedochakra

@fraaaaankiiiiieee

@mrsevans90

@86laura11

@cmiguelbilinski

*if you asked me/want to be on the taglist and you weren't tagged, pls message me, i would love to add you!!

[cameronspecial]

Hello! It’s me again (the one who requested the You Are In Love fic). I absolutely loved it!

I’ve been wondering if you could do a reader x Rafe Cameron where they attend The Eras Tour because reader is a swiftie! (they ofc are in front row because Rafe spoils her)

You Are My Lover

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.7K

A/N: I'm glad you liked the first request! Hopefully, I got all the tour stuff right.

Masterlist

Rafe spoils his princess like there is no tomorrow, so when Taylor Swift announced her Eras Tour, he knew the next thing he had to spend his money on for her. Of course, it is no problem getting her the tickets. He has connections and he isn’t above bribing people to get it for her. Y/N doesn’t have to worry about anything except what she wants to wear and buy. She is a little nervous about leaving it all to Rafe, but he assures her that he is going to get it no matter what it takes. And he did exactly that while looking at his favourite picture of Y/N on the desk. The one taken at the Christmas village. He refrains from texting her the good news, wanting to tell her in person. 

When she gets to his office that day, she has a worried look on her face. Rafe hasn’t texted her anything, so she assumes he has bad news for her. However, as she walks through the door, she can see the massive grin on Rafe’s face. “You got them?” she squeals with a smile. He can only get nod before she runs toward him to tackle him in a hug. Her lips find his as he laughs and she pulls back from him. “Where are we sitting? If it’s nosebleed tickets, that’s okay. I’m just happy that we can go,” she asks. Rafe scoffs, “Princess, I’m Rafe Cameron. I got us floor tickets.”

——

They stand at the front of the crowd. Rafe behind her to protect her from the pushing fans, who are trying to get closer. His light blue shirt matches her pink and yellow dress to form the colours of Taylor’s Lover album. The tiny red heart earrings made out of polymer clay dangle from her ears as she sings with everyone around her. When they get to “Delicate”, Rafe remembers to scream the chant with Y/N because of her constant schooling about the tour. He takes every opportunity he gets to photograph the happy look on Y/N’s face. During “All Too Well”, she feels a little tired and leans against Rafe’s chest. “Are you okay?” he whispers with his mouth pressed against her ear. She looks up at him with a smile and wraps his arms around her waist, “Yeah, I just can’t believe I’m actually here. Thank you, Rafe.” “No problem, Princess. Anything for you,” he kisses her cheek. 

When Taylor passes by their section and Y/N is able to touch the singer’s hand, she feels like she is about to pass out and is very glad that Rafe is filming the moment. He can’t help but chuckle at the way his girlfriend is freaking out. The couple continues to watch the concert, participating in the tour’s traditions and singing the songs. 

——

They are walking to his car when a girl about ten years old comes running up to Rafe. “Can we trade bracelets?” she asks, holding her arms out to him. He smiles down at her and displays her arms for him to pick, “Of course, which one do you want?” Y/N and Rafe had spent the afternoon yesterday making bracelets while listening to Taylor’s songs. The girl analyzes her options and picks a purple bracelet with Speak Now written on it. He hands it over to her, looking over his options on her arms. He spots the perfect one and she gives it to him. He walks over to Y/N, who is waiting for him by her car. He holds out his hand and she places hers in his. He slides the bracelet over her wrist, opening the passenger door for her. He shuts the door once she is in and makes his way to his side of the car.

As he drives out of the parking lot, Y/N looks down at the bracelet he gave her from the little girl. Her heart warms at the sight. Most of the bracelet has light pink beads, but the ones at the top of her wrists are white with black letters. On each side of the sentence, there are pink heart beads. She reads over the words, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. You are my lover.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia

[overtake]

old playing cards!!

I managed a fic under 1k. Please clap.

DECEMBER 2022

Daniel’s fingers tap on the glass table and leave smudges from the sweat and oils coating them. He pulls the sleeve of his shirt over his hand and tries to wipe away the evidence, but he only succeeds at blurring the fingerprints into a hazy circle.

He curls his fingers into the meat of his palm instead, hidden safely inside the too-long cotton cocoon, and stares blankly down. Through the glass, he can see his knee bouncing up and down, just centimetres from banging into the table and bruising his skin.

He startles when a bowl lands in front of him. It’s that eco-friendly cardboard stuff they’ve switched to in the factory cafe, and it’s stuffed to the brim with some kind of chicken and rice dish. Just the smell of it makes Daniel’s stomach churn, and he pushes it to the edge of the table. He ignores Simon’s admonishing glare and crosses his arms across his ribcage.

“Well?” he asks. He knows the sim session didn’t go well. He could hear it in Simon’s constant feedback. He could feel it in his corner hesitation, slamming the brakes like he could fuck the sim into an actual wall and subsequently bracing for impact.

Simon doesn’t answer. Instead, he pulls something from his pocket and passes it across the table to Daniel.

It takes Daniel a second to register what he’s looking at, and it draws a laugh out of him for the first time that day.

“You still have these?” Daniel asks. He picks up the old deck of cards and pulls them from their package.

It’d been a tradition every race weekend since he’d become Daniel’s engineer for the two of them to play a round of war before every session. Daniel refused to call it a superstition, but it was their thing.

He’d bought this particular deck for Simon as a farewell gift in 2018, a joke packaged in amongst the real gift of the expensive watch that still decorates Simon’s wrist to date. Simon had become temporarily obsessed with the Real Housewives franchise, a secret he told Daniel to take to the grave, and Daniel had custom-made him a deck of cards with the housewives’ faces on it.

The pack has clearly only been opened once, the day he received it, and Daniel delights in shuffling them for the first time. The fresh edges are stiff against his hands.

Simon doesn’t speak until the cards have been dealt.

“When are you headed back to Perth?” he asks conversationally. He’s never been one to speak around the matter at hand. Daniel must have really stunk up the sim, then.

“Tomorrow.”

They each flip their first card. Simon’s eight takes it to Daniel’s three.

“And Max?”

Daniel turns over a queen, but Simon shows a king.

“After the holiday party. Are you really that invested in our winter break plans?”

Simon shrugs, unbothered by the bite in Daniel’s words. “Yes. I think you should spend time with your family, eat lots of Christmas ham, and stop thinking about the sim.”

Daniel finally takes a round.

“Is that your way of saying today was so bad, we can never speak of it again?”

Daniel flips over an ace. Simon rolls his eyes and slaps down an ace with Lisa Vanderpump’s smiling face, and they begin doling out cards for war. “We’ll talk about the data in a bit. I just want to remind you to take it easy, alright? Trust yourself. We both know your talent didn’t disappear. You just have to let yourself breathe a little.”

Daniel bites down on his lip, hoping the sharp edge of his tooth in skin will stop the burn in his eyes. “You almost sound like you care about me,” Daniel teases.

Simon shakes his head, but Daniel can see the bemused glint in his eyes.

“Get fucked,” Simon says solemnly when he wins the war and sweeps the pile into his deck.

They play the rest of the game in peaceful silence.

MARCH 2025

“Ready?” Max asks. His race suit is only half-zipped, allowing Daniel to lewdly admire the way his white fireproofs hug the frame of his body. Max sees Daniel mentally objectifying him and sticks out his chest a little.

“Almost,” Daniel promises. Simon’s only got about two cards left in his pile. He refuses to bring the Real Housewives deck, so they’re using a boring one for now, but Daniel plans on finding a themed deck for every other city this season.

Max collapses into the chair next to Daniel and spins himself in lazy half-circles until Daniel takes Simon’s final card and wins the game.

“Let’s go,” Daniel crows, doing a little fist pump.

“I let you win,” Simon lies, like it’s not a game of chance. Daniel boos him, and Max joins in.

“I didn’t miss you two being teammates,” Simon says, waving his hand between the two of them, which only increases their boos. Simon cracks his neck and stands up from the table. “Are you coming?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Daniel says, collecting the cards neatly back into the little box. Max offers him a hand up and lets his fingers linger on Daniel’s skin for a second too long, gently tracing over the four card suits tattooed over the puckered scar on his left hand. “Let’s do this thing.”

[messenger-of-babel]

Green With Infatuation

Summary: Kyle hopes with all his heart that you like him back after rumors begin floating around. (Kyle Rayner x reader)

Word Count: 1.5K

Notes: Kyle just being a love sap (I know he's a more fleshed out character than that but sometimes I want to curse his romance).

━━━━━━━━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Kyle Rayner was many things.

He was a green lantern, a defender of Earth. He had carried the white lantern mantle for a while as well, until he tried to resurrect the Blue Lantern Corp. He was a friend to many, and when he felt like it, a pain in Hal Jordan's side (even though the other man took it in good mirth). However, nothing was a strong as what he knew himself to be at the core: A man head over heels for you.

From the first time he had seen you, he couldn't help but be captivated. The way that you smiled at him made him feel like he held up the sun, your eyes crinkling at the corners. He didn't often come by the Justice League headquarters, mostly just when Hal or John put a request in for extra backup. However, he found himself going back repeatedly when he wasn't needed, pacing through the halls just for a chance of seeing you again.

You were a secretary hired by the Batman himself, keeping things orderly and neat to the eyes of the public. He'd come to get coffee with Hal, looking through the glass wall of the second floor to the reception you manned. He'd watch how day after day you dealt with angry members of the public or crazed fans trying to get past you. Not that they could, everything beyond a certain point was access restricted so they wouldn't be able to do so much as call the elevator. With a sigh and a calm smoothing of your shirt you'd click the call button under your desk, security coming to whisk the person annoying you away.

He also saw you at some of the work functions, little get togethers that Superman held to try and encourage a team environment. You were invited to those too but seemed wildly out of place among all of the superpowered (or in the Bat's case, heavily armed) figures in the room. Since Kyle had been dropping by more and more frequently for months now, they invited him along. Every time they didn't, he asked to come along with Hal.

He yearned to talk to you, yet there was a pit of worry clawing at his gut. He wished he could take off the mask and talk to you normally, like you were both casual civilians bumping into each other on the street. He had debated that exact scenario multiple times, but he didn't want to be a stalker. If you two ever did end up together, he didn't want to have the foundations of the relationship be a lie. That wouldn’t be fair to you.

So, he watched from a distance, studying the way you laughed, the way you smiled, the way you held yourself. Catching sight of Diana coming towards him, he nodded his head in polite greeting. The Amazonian returned the gesture, drink in hand as she leans on the wall next to him. "Rayner," she greets quietly, lips quirking into a grin. "I've been seeing you a lot more at these kinds of things. Don't tell me you're actually starting to enjoy them?" she teases. he shrugs his shoulders, smiling back.

"It's not like the corps are gonna throw a Christmas party anytime soon, I'll take what I can get." he chuckles, raising his glass to hers in a toast. She clinks her own cup against his, and they both take a sip in silence. Automatically his eyes seek you out again, picking you out of the crowd as you talk to Superman. Diana's eyes follow his.

"Have you met our secretary yet?" she asks, curious. He shakes his head, throat feeling dry.

"No, I don’t think I have." he replies, trying to control the thudding of his pulse. She clicks her teeth at his answer, humming lightly.

"They're a civilian that helps us out. Batman hired them to try and manage PR, you know, when people think we aren't doing anything. They help keep those tabloids from running rampant, and they do a pretty good job of it." Kyle turns to look at her, eyebrow raised.

"Doesn't that make them a target?" he asks. "If they're a civilian at the front desk of the Justice League, isn't there enemies of you all that would love to get the chance to take a free hit?"

Diana shrugs in response. "There was at the start, and truthfully it was quite scary." she says. "But our enemies realised rather quickly that to be a mistake. There's always someone at the headquarters, and they just better hope that it isn't Batman's shift." She jokes, waving her hand. "Besides, everyone figured out pretty quick that they've got a guard dog watching 24/7. No one's coming to get them knowing that."

He huffs out a laugh, grin gracing his lips into a smile. "Who's that? Don't tell me it’s the Bat, I won't believe you."

Diana laughs, shaking her head. "No, it's not Batman." she says, eyes sparkling as she smiles. "I thought you would have known."

"Why?"

"Because he's a lantern." she says matter of factly, pushing off the wall as waving as she heads back into the small crowd. His heart thuds in his chest, world slowing down around him momentarily. Did she know about how he felt? rushed around his mind, making his hands twitch nervously. He excuses himself politely, wondering just how often he had to have been caught staring for Diana to put something like that together.

As he heads for the bathroom to wash his face, he fails to notice that you've since stopped your conversation with Superman, instead conversing with the Flash and Hal. If he had paid attention just a touch closer, he would have seen the way you stood a little closer to Hal than usual, and the respectful hand that snaked around your waist to sit on your hip.

Since the night of the party, Kyle found himself inextricably coming back to the Justice League base, day after day. Just for a chance to talk to you, a chance to see you, for your hands to accidentally brush against one another when you go to get water from the cooler. You'd give him a smile and a thank you each time, his heart softening after each one. He couldn’t help the daydream of what it would feel like to have you in his arms, and to wake up with you beside him. What your face would look like as he made your favourite meal after a long day of work or flying you up to the tallest building in the city so he could see the lights reflected in your eyes. Hearing the passing chatter of others did nothing to quell his racing heart either.

The rumours that floated around that you were getting close to a Green Lantern made his heart leap from his chest, hands tingling with excitement and blood rushing to his head. When there was any tearoom chatter that you were dating a Lantern, he brushed it off. He hadn't been that forward, had he?

He tried to push past it, smiling and striking up conversation with you a bit more. His lips longed to ask you questions about what the two of you were. He had just seen it as friends, but did you see it differently? Did you want to be with him even a fraction of the way that he wanted to be with you?

When you mention your respect for the work that the Lantern's did, giving him a genuine thanks, he swore that the sun came out in a halo behind you. Of course he played it off as well as he always did, lovesick smile pulling his lips back and dark hair flopping over his eyes as he laughs and tells you not to worry about it. Every compliment you give him, every time you talk about how much you liked a certain lantern in particular made his chest pound. His throat felt tight, brain racing at the way that you brought it up so casually.

Was this your way of signalling your interest in him? Was he being too dense?

Hope fluttered weakling in his chest each time, making him giddy. When he saw you with Hal, he waved politely at the two of you, carrying on his business. He so desperately wanted to say that if you wanted to get to know him better, that you could just ask him, not Hal. He didn't bite and he didn't have any intention of being rude to you. He chalked it up to you just being scared, a nervousness that he could relate to all too well.

That's why when he sees the two of you leaving one evening, he can only sigh dreamily from the sidelines. So in love and heart fluttering with hope he can barely register the arm Hal has thrown around your neck, or the fact that it's his jacket covering your shoulders. He doesn't take note of the way you kiss Hal's cheek rounding the corner, or the way his coworker smirks and leans down to whisper something in your ear.

Kyle Rayner was a man well and truly in enraptured, with eyes that were lovestruck and hopeful.

Even if that hope was a false one.

[stevesjockstrap]

Butter Him Up

🎁 Merry Christmas to @eddiethehunted who asked for nasty feral linecook!Eddie smut - props to you for answering smut questions in front of your grandma

Steve/Eddie • rated: E • vague timeline, no UD, inappropriate use of a staff bathroom, come and Steve’s uniform tie 🫠 now on ao3

When he’d applied for the job at the restaurant, he assumed it would be like working at Scoops or the movie theater, people order food and he gave it to them. He could handle that. Steve wasn’t a stranger to an embarrassing outfit, either. This one wasn’t even embarrassing, really. He actually liked the button down and tie, the half apron with big pockets.

The real issue was Eddie. The line cook.

Eddie made him feel like he was doing everything wrong, always asking him questions about his tickets or confusing him about sides and substitutions. He leered at him and made comments about his uniform like every other server wasn’t wearing the same exact thing. It made him crazy.

But when he walked into the kitchen, Eddie wasn’t there.

“Hey Jon, where’s Eddie tonight?” He asked, trying to keep his voice casual as he punched in.

“Their band had a gig, out in Indy, I think Gareth said. You’re going to have to make do with the rest of us tonight,” he sent him a wry smile.

Steve huffed, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jon threw a towel over his shoulder and came closer to the counter, still giving him a sly smile. “We all see you two dancing around each other, man. It’s entertaining. Be careful there, he’s not known for his, uh, tenderness,” he chuckled.

Steve blinked. “Um. Okay? I’m not interested in anything with Eddie, alright?”

“Sure, Steve, whatever you say.”

It wasn’t until a few hours later that it hit him.

He did like it. Liked Eddie ‘dancing around him,’ like Jonathan said. He’d always been sort of an attention whore and tonight he felt off, unsteady without Eddie infuriating him with his comments and constantly feeling his eyes on him. On his ass.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath as he filled up water cups. What was he going to do about this?

“Heard you missed me yesterday, big boy,” Eddie jeered at him.

He took a moment to really look at him, a wild smile all teeth and tongue, metal shining from his lips and eyebrow and nose, tattoos across his throat and down his forearms where his own white button down was rolled up. Steve wanted to yank his hair out of the pile on top of his head. Oh.

“Sure did, Eds,” he replied with a quick wink.

He watched with satisfaction as a shock wave went though Eddie’s features, not expecting the pushback.

It didn’t seem to stop the comments or all the eye fucking, which Steve was now expecting and then maybe encouraging.

“Doll face, if they have an egg allergy they can’t have the Caesar dressing. Go see what they want.”

“Hey sweet cheeks, this appetizer for table 23 has been here longer than you’ve worked here, can you go take it to them?”

Steve put a swing to his hips as he took the plate with a smile and headed back to the front. He thought maybe there was a crash behind him as the door swung shut. He smirked to himself.

After the big dinner rush, he punched in his own shift meal and stood watching as Eddie got the ticket.

“You going on break, babydoll?”

“Yeah, you gunna come?”

There was a cut off sound and Gareth snickered next to him at the line.

By the time he was shoved into the staff bathroom, Eddie seemed to have recovered his attitude.

Big hands grabbed at his ass, and Eddie groaned into his ear. “Shit, Stevie. You’ve been teasing me with this ridiculous ass of yours forever.”

“Uh huh,” he gasped as he was pulled forward roughly and their hard lengths rubbed against each other, a hot mouth finding his neck. Eddie already had him wound so tight and he felt like he was going to explode. “Please-“

“I know, sweets. You’re already so desperate, huh?”

Steve whined as his apron was untied and thrown, his shirt rucked out of his pants so hands could work their way down the back of them to grab a handful.

Then he was quickly pushed away as Eddie ordered, “Down on your knees, I think, darlin’. There’s a good boy. Need those lips around me. Shut you up good, huh?”

Steve was quick to comply, just as ready to sink down onto his knees for him. They both fumbled with his belt and zipper, Eddie finally slapping his hands away and yanking his boxers under his balls.

Eddie’s dick was big, and already so hard, precome beading at the head. His mouth watered and he immediately opened it and stuck his tongue out.

“Such a cock slut, aren’t you, pretty? Yeah, you need it so bad, don’t you?”

He nodded, tongue still out as Eddie held his cock just out of reach for another moment before tapping it onto his tongue. Steve went up on his knees, trying to push further down on his length and received a few inches for his trouble. Hands came around the back of his head to rake through his hair and he moaned around him. Suddenly the hands pulled him roughly up, shoving his length down his throat. He gagged and tears sprung to his eyes.

“That’s it, shit, the mouth on you. Ah-”

Steve tried to suck in breaths through his nose as Eddie pulled him back and forth, licking around the head and keeping his teeth out of the way while his throat was fucked open on his gorgeous cock.

Suddenly he needed something else. He slid back and looked up, gasping out, “Fuck me, Eddie, please-“

“Jesus Christ, Stevie. Of course. Get up here.”

Eddie yanked him to his feet and pushed him against the sink. He made quick work of his fly, letting his pants slide down his legs.

“So wet for me already, pretty. Turn around. That’s it.”

When he found himself bent over the sink, some small semblance of sense sparked in his brain. “Lube,” he gasped. He couldn’t string a sentence together to save his life right now. “I-“ he shook his head.

“Got it, sweets. Been carrying it around since your second day here. I’ve fantasized about you spreading your legs for me every day since then.”

“Fuck,” he breathed. Why was that hot?

“Yeah, dreamed about bending you over the bar and letting the whole place watch.” Eddie grabbed handfuls of his ass again quickly before yanking his underwear down. They both groaned when he pulled his cheeks apart and spit directly onto him.

“Oh, holy shit,” he whined as fingers rubbed the wetness around his rim. “C’mon, Ed-“

“You gunna let me in this tight little hole?” Eddie taunted. He must’ve added some lube before he pushed a finger in roughly, Steve raising up on his toes with a squeak. “That’s it, gotta stretch you out for this big cock.”

“Oh my god.”

“Just Eddie works, sweetheart,” he chuckled darkly.

Steve shuddered, the condescending tone sending him further to the stratosphere. He arched his back as he added another finger. “You are- ah- such a dick!” He said between clenched teeth.

“Sure am, baby. And you love it. Think I’m gunna come all over this ass. Rub it in and let you walk around with me all over you as you finish your shift. How’s that sound, my little slut?”

He, naturally, decided then to press solidly against his prostate and Steve lost the plot of the conversation again, only able to gasp and groan as another finger was introduced to his entrance. He pushed back against it, trying to hurry him up. For someone ‘not known for their tenderness’ he sure was taking his time in his preparation.

“Such a little slut, Stevie. I know, I know, we’re getting there. Hold your horses.”

Finally, there was a blunt wet head pushing against his rim and he moaned as it popped in.

“Mmm, you gunna be loud for me, baby? Let the whole place know you’re getting what’s coming to you?”

Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that wasn’t ideal for his job or reputation, but the rest of him thought that was a great plan. Nodding and whining since he couldn’t get any words to come out, Eddie chuckling at him.

Now he realized the prep he’d thought was excessive was necessary and almost cursory, as Eddie continued to press forward and his dick stretched him impossibly. He whimpered and gasped, Eddie pulling him upright and he got to watch them in the mirror as he finally bottomed out inside of him.

“Holy fuck,” Steve breathed. Thankfully Eddie took pity on him and gave him a moment to adjust, mouthing down his neck to his collar.

With a smirk, he pulled out, looking pointedly down between them, probably knowing Steve was watching in the mirror.

“Your greedy little hole is sucking me right back in, darlin’- oh fuck- so fucking tight,” Eddie rambled.

He shoved back in and rubbed over his prostate, making Steve shake and arch his back for more. His head dropped forward and he heard a tsk from behind him.

With a grin, Eddie grabbed the tie around his neck, spinning it around and wrapping it around his fist, using it to keep him from falling forward. The threat and the tightness around his throat made his dick twitch and he automatically wrapped a hand around himself.

His arms were suddenly pulled back and Eddie held onto his wrists in the small of his back.

“Uh uh, greedy. You’re gunna wait. Think you can come just from my cock? Huh?”

Steve wailed as the angle changed and his prostate was nailed again and again, pulled around like a rag doll as Eddie held onto his wrists and his hip. He didn’t know how he was even still standing, his legs shaking under him.

“Christ, I knew your ass would be magnificent, doll face,” Eddie huffed into his ear. “Look at you, so drunk on my cock you don’t even know which way is up, poor baby.”

Steve cracked an eye open and tried to make sense of what he was seeing in the mirror, his own flushed cheeks, mouth open, tear tracks and drool making a mess of his face. His hair was stuck to his sweaty forehead and sticking up where Eddie had raked his hands through it. He looked completely fucked.

The heat in his belly coiled tighter and he gasped out, “Cl-close, Eds!”

“Me too, sweetheart. C’mon, come for me and I’ll decorate this perfect ass of yours.”

Something must’ve shown on his face or Eddie just instinctively knew what he needed but he watched as the tattooed arm left his hip and his hand wrapped around his neck, pressing just right on the sides.

His eyes rolled back and he may have screamed as his orgasm shot through him, his hips rolling forward and back through the aftershocks. Eddie growled in his ear as he continued fucking him through it as he clenched around him.

“So fucking good, Stevie,” he hissed before pulling out roughly.

His wrists were released and he miraculously caught himself as he dropped forward onto the sink, able to see just Eddie’s face as he jerked himself off above him.

“Oh fuck, can’t wait to see you shaking this ass around for everyone, knowing it’s covered in me, ah- all mine.” He grunted lowly and Steve gasped again as he felt the hot splashes against his back and down his cheeks. Big hands immediately started rubbing it in, making sure to cover every inch and down his crack.

“Pull your pants up, slut,” he growled.

After barely making it through the rest of his shift, he wasn’t surprised when Eddie met him at the back door. “Your place or mine, baby cakes?”

Gareth ran to Jonathan’s car as he pulled in for his shift the next afternoon, “You owe me fifty bucks!” He held out his hand with a wide smile.

“Fuck!”

[luveline]

taking roan to see santa and she is so excited to tell him about her new mommy and the things she wants for christmas and when she gets there she is TERRIFIED of the man 🎅

a family trip to the mall to see santa!! fem!reader 5k words

"I'm gonna tell Santa about my new mom, and my new house, and my new bed, and my new-" 

"Babe, you're supposed to ask him for things you want, not tell him about stuff you already have." 

Roan reaches out to stroke Eddie's face absent-mindedly. He loves how loving she is, and by extension, loves that he's made her this way. 

"But I didn't have a mom or a house or a bed last year." 

He snorts, fingers wrapped up in the ribbon laces on her shiny black shoes. "You actually did have a bed, and a house." 

"A real house, dad." 

"It was a real house," he argues with little heat, straightening up her socks where they've started slipping down, fingertips pressed into her soft skin. "It was a home, anyway. You know, me and Uncle Wayne lived together in his trailer for more than ten years and it was amazing." 

It had been cramped, crowded, and it had been a stuffy hell in the summer, but it was just fine. It was more than that. 

He leans back and takes in Roan again. He's dressed her in a navy blue dress with the lining of a white skirt peeking out underneath. She has a cardigan over the top to fight the cold, and he'll wrap her up in her big puffy coat for good measure as soon as he's done her hair. She looks adorable, adorable and well-kept

He feels the familiar rush of parent pride. Fuck, I'm a good dad. 

"And we had fun, didn't we? In our trailer?" he asks her, chucking under her chin. 

She grins at him, a mouthful of tiny white pearls. "Duh, dad. We had the best times ever, with Rufus and Georgia and Steve." 

He smiles himself, reminded of the stray cats that had flocked to their home and their names. Steve had been an especially dishevelled calico, and his name had been a great point of contention between the Munson's and human Steve. 

"You know, we could always go visit them," he offers, pleased at the twinkle that grows in Roan's eyes. 

"We could?" she asks, gasping. 

"Sure, babe. I bet they miss us, and it's cold. We'll make them some fried chicken when we have time, yeah? You and me'll be the talk of the cat town." 

"And Y/N," Roan says insistently. 

He strokes her cheek with his thumb. "And Y/N," he says as he stands up. "Now, little lady. Bunches or braids?" 

By the time he's weaved her hair back into one impressive braid you're finally getting home from the doctor. A completely routine check up and still he's terrified for a split second that you're gonna come in and declare a problem. You simply pose in the doorway and smile. 

"Nothing wrong with me that wasn't wrong before," you say breezily. "Hello, my loves. Did anything happen while I was gone?" 

Roan scrambles to stand on the kitchen chair and pose as you're posing. Your expression drops, as does your jaw, and you take a while to pick it back up. 

"Aw, princess, would you look at you? You look beautiful." 

She giggles as you swoop in to kiss her. You take her face into two delicate palms and stroke curly baby hairs behind her ears. A year ago, even a couple of months ago, you would've asked before you kissed her. Now, you pucker up wordlessly, and Roan bears her cheek like she can't wait. If her excited shifting from one foot to the other is anything to go by, she can't. 

"You look so, so pretty," you praise, pulling away to wipe at the splodge of lip balm you've left shining on her baby cheek. 

"You look more pretty," Roan says. 

Eddie adores you both in ways he can't articulate. 

His unspoken affection summons your attention. You let your hands fall to her shoulders and meet his eyes over her head. For a moment you smile abashedly, the awkward amazing smile you'd been wearing when you first met. It eases into something easier, something Eddie isn't ashamed to admit he loves more. This one practically oozes love. 

"Do you want to get changed?" you ask. 

He pretends like you've slapped him. "What do you mean? This isn't mall-worthy?" 

"Your work overalls and my apron?" you ask wryly. "Sure, wear that." 

He tries not to smile but he's practically sticky with it, kissing your cheek and patting Roan's back in tandem before he escapes upstairs to change. He puts on a pair of tight black slacks and a dark navy button down to match Roan, rolling the sleeves up in the way he knows you love. 

There's Christmas music and giggling downstairs when he returns. Roan's now standing on the table of all places, her hands in your hands, the two of you dancing quite aggressively considering it's Jingle Bell Rock. You start to swing her around, pulling her into your chest so you can waltz in time with the music. 

You swing to face the doorway and cheer when you see him. "Dad!" you direct Roan's attention. "That's your nicest button down. Is that the one you wore when you proposed?" 

He smiles at the memory but quickly hides it, peering down at his shirt as if it's the most boring item of clothing Walmart's ever made. "This old thing?" He lets the dramatics fall. "No, not this one. I might be wearing the same socks, though, if you wanna check?" 

You dip your face down to Roan's and rub the bridges of your noses together. "No thanks," you say, slipping into some bubbly mom talk. "He thinks I wanna look at his socks, did you hear? What a weirdo." 

"Weirdo," she echoes. 

"Wretched women," he mumbles, heading for the shoe rack. He shoves on a pair of boots and raises his volume. "Come on, sweet girls, time to go see Santa!"

"Santa!" 

Roan squirms out of your arms and onto the floor. She sprints for the front door and grabs clumsily at the handle, slightly too short to reach and pull down with any force. Eddie takes her coat down from the hanger and bunches up the sleeves to get her hands through. One arm then two, she makes it difficult work but it's something he's become an expert in. Wayne once said he reckoned Eddie could get an octopus into a straight jacket. 

"Babe, move out the way," he says. 

Roan steps back enough for him to crack the door and then bursts into the cold. She seems less enthusiastic when the ice bites at her naked knees, looking to Eddie for reassurance. 

He hands you the keys and you take them automatically. "I'm gonna get her into the car before she turns into a popsicle." 

Realisation dawns on your face. "I dont have my purse. Be right there," you say, spinning back into the house. 

He catches up to Roan where she's waiting by your car. She has a car seat in your car and his, but yours is the one at the front of the driveway. She looks tiny next to it, smaller when she starts shivering. It's a sub level Christmas in Hawkins. 

"Alright, Ro, in you go," he says, opening door. He covers the top of the doorway with his hand so she can't knock herself out and straps her in once she's situated. 

"It's cold," she says through chattering teeth. 

"I'm sorry, your wool stockings were in the wash, babe." He covers her frost-bitten cheeks, blood pinking her skin. "We might need to get you some pants at the mall, so you don't fr-fr-freeze to death," he says, imitating her shivering. 

She giggles infectiously. "You're funny." 

He presses a kiss to her head. "All legs in the ride!" he warns. 

"Don't cut her legs off," you call from the front door. 

"Never. Am I driving?" he asks, closing Roan's door. He succeeds in not mauling her. 

"Do you want to?" 

"Do you want to?" 

"Get in the car." 

"Yes, ma'am," he purrs, escaping around to the passenger side and away from your clutches. 

The drive consists of Eddie messing with your deteriorating stereo system and Roan's ecstatic babbling. She's back onto what she wants to tell Santa. New mom, new house, new bed, new princess dresses, new kitchen, new pet fish. The list goes on. Though they aren't as new as she thinks; you, Eddie and Roan have been living together now for a couple of months, and you and Eddie have been engaged for almost as long. The novelty has yet to wear off for Roan. Eddie hopes his daughter will be this amazingly happy for the rest of her life.

"You think it's gonna break?" you ask, watching the stereo with all the caution of a lion tamer. 

"God, I hope so. I'll know what to get you for Christmas, then." 

It's a bluff — Eddie's already got you a bunch of gifts, some of which you're pretending you don't know about, and some he's actually managed to hide well. 

"You won't believe what I got for-" You cough. "Uh, Lucky." 

He laughs, checking over his shoulder to see if Roan's listening. She absolutely isn't, feet wiggling along to the static riddled kiddie songs and Teddy the one eared bear in her lap. "I'm gonna tell him you need a new ear, Teddy, don't worry," she says, tone conspiring.

He winces like she's listening. "Yeah, what was it? A new plant?" 

"Yeah," you mumble. You're a bad liar. "New plant. It's pink and gold and it's made out of velvet silk," — you lower your voice to a whisper — "with handmade skirts and hand sewn sequins." 

His eyes go wide. "I thought we said no more presents for Lucky." 

"Did we say that?" 

"Well, I said that. Starting to think you weren't listening." He pinches your thigh, quick and nipping to get you squealing.

"I listened," you insist through laughter, facing him with a bright, bright smile. You keep your eyes on the road. "I just didn't comply." 

"I'm not above force." 

You gasp, delighted. "You dog! My little girl's in the car." 

"My little girl isn't listening." 

"Yes I am." 

You snort so loud it probably hurts your throat. 

Eddie whips his head to Roan and her cheeky smile. "I know what we should- what we should get Lucky for Christmas," she says knowingly. 

"What's that, princess?" you ask, watching her through the rearview. Each word drips with love.

"A girlfriend," she says. 

"Yeah? We'd need to get him a bigger tank, too-" 

"So that's not happening," Eddie says. 

He hates being the voice of reason, on record despises it, but you love Roan so much, you're fucking whipped, you'd pull Mount Fuji from the Earth and put it behind Bradley's if she asked you to, so while he loves nonsense and participating in it, he has to say no. You can't afford a new fish tank now you've paid for the honeymoon vacation and the wedding venue deposit and Christmas. 

Or rather, Eddie can't afford it. He works on principle. Your money is your money. His money is your money. You argue that your money is a hundred percent his money too and he fights you on it all the time, even though you're technically the breadwinner. He's not too proud to let you pay more rent, more toward groceries, more everything. Now. It had been a little bit of a sore spot at first. 

He'd reasoned that he should be paying more in reality because of Roan and you'd glared at him half-seriously and said, Don't insult me, handsome. You know I love her. 

You more than love her, and if you want to spend every last penny of your paycheck on Christmas this month he won't fight you on it. 

Besides that, he can't take any extra hours because he has to pick up Roan. You love that argument because it supports your conclusion, among others — Eddie does the majority of the laundry, the cooking, the cleaning. But, those arguments should be moot. You definitely carry your weight, plus, he loves to do stuff for you. Should be, but you do that stupid fucking thing that you do wherein your hands are all over his face and your voice is soft as silk in his ear, and you kiss under his jaw and win any and every argument in a pathetically small amount of time. He'd die for you. You're a cheater. 

"Spoilsport," you mumble, pulling into the parking lot outside the mall with a bumpy turn. 

"Lucky needs a girlfriend fish, dad, or he'll get so lonely he'll die." 

Eddie blows hair out of his face and zips up his jacket, opening your door with a mostly respectful kick. He rushes to get Roan out before you can, knowing you'll carry her all the way inside and give yourself achey shoulders. 

"Why do you say that?" Eddie asks as he opens her door. Roan looks up all smiles, Teddy clutched to her neck. "Why do you think he'll die? Lonely people don't die, babe." 

"Are you sure?" 

He unclips her straps and pulls her out deftly. He'd let her walk herself but the cold is biting and he can carry her much quicker. "I'm positive." 

Her face crinkles up. He likely shouldn't have mentioned death, she's too small, but Roan has a strange understanding of all things macabre. Santa's more real to her than death, for sure. 

"Maybe I can ast Santa for a big tank for Lucky and then he can have a girlfriend and a baby." 

The dropped 'k' on ask makes Eddie stupidly emotional. A habit she's falling out of from when she was younger. 

You start pushing him behind the shoulders. "Let's go," you whine, "before we all get hypothermia." 

He makes sure there's room in the crook of his arm for your hand while making his way toward the mall sliding doors. You fall into step beside him. 

Eddie begins stranger prep. 

"You gotta be polite to Santa, remember? Because he sees all these little girls and boys and he's tired from the Christmas rush, and he's taking the time to come see you." 

Roan nods seriously. "My pleases and thank you, dad, I always remember," she says. 

"Yes, you do," you praise, though she does not.

"Do you think he can get Lucky a girlfriend?" Roan asks you. 

More terrible smiles. "Yes, he definitely can. What kind of girlfriend? A goldfish, too? They have black goldfish in the Petsmart with big heads like raspberries- oh, we should go see them after we talk to Santa!" 

Roan's nodding grows more and more voracious. "Can we, dad?" she asks. 

"Why're you askin' me? Y/N already said you could." 

You almost trip over yourself trying to kiss his cheek. He knows you love him. He suspects you love being a parent more. He's rubbed your back through enough 'I'm so lucky' breakdowns to know you're genuinely in love with his little girl. 

Inside the warmth of the mall entryway, Eddie sets Roan on her feet. She holds both hands up. He takes one, you take the other, and she rambles about Lucky's potential lover as you both lead her to the entrance of the food court where the mall Santa's grotto has been set up this year. 

The walls and railings are decorated in spiraling lights and tinsel, store windows teeming with festive merchandise. Kids are everywhere, none as pretty or well-dressed as Roan (in Eddie's totally unbiased opinion), but all looking startled by the intensity of everything. Roan herself baulks. 

"It's bright, huh?" Eddie asks her knowingly. 

"All the lights," she says. 

"Yeah, babe, a lot of lights. There's a really big Christmas tree further in, too, we came here last year to see it." 

She shrugs. Eddie's unsure, but he thinks maybe she's drifted a little closer to his legs. 

The grotto comes into view and she perks up. "Oh," she says sweetly, breathless with her eyes wide, dark eyes shining in the fairy lights. 

"There he is," Eddie encourages, "and some elves, too. We line up, uh-" 

"Over there," you say, tugging him and Roan with you like the three of you are a slinky. 

Roan bounces on her tiptoes from the end of the line to the very beginning. You and Eddie can't stop sharing secret smiles. He loves doing this every year, and last year he'd done most of it alone. Wayne hates shopping malls and you hadn't been dating quite long enough for him to feel comfortable asking you to do parent stuff at the time. The difference a year can make — it aches in the best way. 

"After Santa and the pet store, what's our plan? D'you wanna get pizza? Or something else, we could go to Enzo's?" he asks. 

"Enzo's?" 

"I'll pay."

"Last time you had a weird stomach for three whole days after. I thought we'd never see you again." 

"You love it, though. I'll buy some tums. Take a cushion into the bathroom." 

"Ew, no," you say, sounding less disgusted than you could be. 

You're both keeping an eye on the line. There's only one kid in front of you now, and Roan is pulling on your arms ready to pounce. 

"Chinese?" 

"What does macaroanie want?" 

"She gets everything she wants all the time. Would it kill you to choose?" 

You think it over. "Definitely. Why don't you choose?" 

"'Cause I want you to, that's the whole point. You know, it's okay to do things that you want to do." 

"I want to make you pick. You can pay, too, if we're going to the pet store. Santa needs a donation, and I'm gonna be strapped for cash." 

He mirrors your sweet smile. "Deal." 

"Next, please," says a very average sized elf. 

You and Eddie steal another look and you drop Roan's little hand to let Eddie walk her up to Santa. She'd loved him last year, asking for a bunch of things Eddie hadn't been able to deliver on. He'd tried his best, had done a bunch of freelance guitar repairs that he wasn't educated for (but isn't half bad at), had scraped and scrimped, he'd even borrowed money from Wayne that Wayne refused to take back the following February when Eddie finally made it up, and he still hadn't been able to get 'princess sheets' or the new Dotty Dolly. 

They approach Santa. Roan takes one step, then the other. Santa says hello. 

Roan pauses. 

"C'mere, hon," Santa says, an older gentleman with a natural white beard. He's a very convincing Santa, all things considered. "Tell old Chris Kringle what you want for Christmas." 

Eddie pushes her forward very gently with his fingertips. "Go on, babe, it's okay. You wanted to tell him about your mom and the house and Lucky the fish, right?" 

Roan takes the last step. Then, frozen in the face, she backs up, nearly trips, and bolts down into Eddie's legs. She practically flies down the stairs with a freaked out moan. 

His eyes blow. He looks at Roan, looks at Santa. "I'm sorry," Eddie says, smiling at the old man awkwardly. 

The elves do not look happy. 

Eddie bends down. "Roanie," he says urgently, "what's the matter? You don't wanna talk to Santa?" 

She says nothing, only clings. Eddie tries to steer her shoulder back to Santa on his big velvet chair and she's having none of it, whining and shoving her head into his thigh. 

"Excuse me-" starts the elf. 

"Roan, are you sure you don't wanna talk to him? He's Santa, he wants to hear all about your list this year," Eddie tries. 

"No." 

He sighs, perturbed but not too worried. They can always try again. He says sorry to the elves and to Santa who waves his hand, as if to say it doesn't matter. He gets his hands under Roan's arms and carries her to where you're standing on the other side. You look heartbroken. 

"What happened?" you ask softly, stroking a sweet curl behind her ear. 

Eddie has no answers and Roan doesn't want to give them, so you make your way to the food court in a shocked silence. Roan has a tendency to deal with negatives in two ways — tantrums for the superficial, withdrawal for the serious. Eddie still isn't good at dealing with the latter. Together, you can usually save the day. 

"Roan, bug," Eddie says, so only she can hear, "tell me what happened. You didn't like Santa, huh?" 

"Dad," she says, almost inaudible. 

He slides a hand behind her neck and tips her away from his chest. "What?" 

"He didn't look how I remembered." 

"'Cause you're older," he says. 

He's employed his nicest, smoothest dad voice. The gentle one for all her scariest moments, like shots at the doctor's office and the time she wet herself in the playground in front of the other kids. Anything to assuage her embarrassment, a safety blanket. 

He slides into a booth and you hover. 

"Would something yummy make it feel better?" you ask hopefully. 

Roan shakes her head into Eddie's neck. 

"I-" You look super crushed. Everything had been going well. He knows how badly you want Christmas to be perfect. 

"How about," Eddie cuts you off, not unkindly, "you and me and mom get warm donut holes and ice cream to dip them in? We've never had then with her, have we?" 

It's a good Christmas tradition. 

Roan can't resist. "Okay," she says. 

"I'll get them," you volunteer. "I got it." 

Something hooks you as you're trying to leave and you double back to kiss the top of her head and Eddie's temple in quick succession. He smiles at you genuinely, happy when your frown livens up. Roan will be okay in a little while, no doubt. No need for you to tear yourself up over it. 

Alone, Eddie eases Roan off of his lap and onto the bench beside him. He takes her little hands into his. She looks nearly angry, dark eyebrows pinched up and her eyes welled with tears. 

"It's okay that you didn't like Santa," he murmurs.

"I wanted to tell him about Y/N," she says, lower lip trembling. 

"We can always go and see him again." 

She stiffens. 

"Or we can try a different day, yeah? C'mon, where's my brave girl gone?"

"He smiled funny…" she mumbles.

He feels awful instantly. He doesn't need Roan to be brave if she can't be. 

"Well, if you want," he says, inclining his head, "you could tell me what you want for Christmas, I could tell Santa." 

She looks up. "You'll tell Santa?" 

"Oh, yeah," he says quickly. "I tell Santa all the stuff you forget. How'd you think you got your space hopper last year? And your princess slippers? I tell him all the things you want." 

"He still didn't get me Dotty Dolly." 

"He's old, babe. He's all senile, like Wayne." Sorry Wayne. 

Her face flops into his upper arm, chubby cheek squished to the mild curve of his bicep. She lets out a morose sigh. "Sorry, dad." 

He nudges her gently. "For what?" 

"Being not brave." 

He presses his forehead to her hair. "I didn't mean that. You don't have to be brave meeting new people. It's scary, even if you met them before. Like Y/N," he says, nuzzling Roan's silky hair affectionately, "I don't know if you remember, you were always excited to see her, and I used to think I was excited too. Then we'd get to Morgan's cake shop and I'd make us late because I was hiding in the car. She used to make me nervous, and now she's your mommy." 

He wraps his arm around her shoulders. "Sometimes we need time to get to know people before we're ready to talk to them. It's okay that you got scared, babybug, promise." 

She goes limp. Her cheek slides down the length of his stomach and lands on his thigh. "I really wanted Lucky to have a girlfriend." 

He pets her hair, accomplished in his dad duties. (He hopes. Tonight he'll go over this conversation with you and wonder if he should've said something else.) 

"Lucky can definitely still have a girlfriend. What did I just say? I'll make sure Santa knows exactly what you want, no sweat." 

She huffs another huge sigh that must take up her entire lung capacity. He tickles the back of her neck with the end of her braid slowly, drawing circles around her ear and her earlobe until her shoulders are heaving. 

"You're laughing," he accuses. 

"No I'm not," she says into his leg. 

"No?" He lets her hair go in favour of scratching her neck. "We can change that." 

You return with way too much ice cream and twice as many donuts to find her squealing and cornered in the booth, curled up into a ball like a pill bug to evade Eddie's cruel hands. 

"What are you doing to her?" you demand. 

"I'm cuddling her. What's it look like to you, mister?" 

"Mister? You sick freak." 

"You're the sick freak, freak. Sit down and give my girl one of those donut holes before she keels over." 

"She's already keeled! Get offa her, the ice cream's melting on my hands." 

He stops tickling Roan and she finds the strength to sit. You're ecstatic to see her happy again and you show it with a grand proferring of sweet treats and three plastic spoons. You've bought a whole lotta donuts and an ice cream boat with chocolate fudge and cherries, and you let her maul it without complaint. It's a good time, a great one, to watch Roan teach you how to dip the still-warm donuts in your ice cream, and to watch the two of you try to eat them without getting powdered sugar and chocolate all over your fancy clothes. 

He ties the cherry stem with his tongue and mystifies Roan, who spends the next ten minutes trying to do the same. He feels so sorry for her that when she sticks her little tongue out with an untied stem for the tenth time, he meets your eyes and nods and the two of you cheer like crazy. 

He hadn't brought his bag, a rookie mistake, so he nabs some napkins from the condiments table and gives Roan the good old spit and polish. 

Clean-ish, he takes her hand and she stands on the bench, hopping off and landing with Munson grace (her knees give out). You take the long way around the grotto so she won't have to see Santa again and come across the mall's huge Christmas tree. 

"Woah," she gasps, enthralled. 

Eddie really should've brought the camera, even if he only has two pieces of film left. He wants to remember this forever, her face still soft with baby fat reflected back from a giant golden bauble, tinsel bouncing light all over her skin like a mirrorball. You bend down beside her and grin. 

"Eddie, look at it from down here." 

He suspends his disbelief and kneels down. 

From the floor, the tree looks bigger than any skyscraper, and it shines like a star. If you follow the tree all the way to its angel at the top, you can look past it into the skylight, where the dark night shines with pinprick stars. 

"Our Christmas tree doesn't look this good," you say. 

"Yes it does!" Roan says, turning to you with a stern scowl. "Our Christmas tree is the best one they ever made." 

"Yeah?" 

"Mm. And I got to put the star on." 

"Yeah, you did." You rest your hands on her shoulders and the two of you look up together. 

I need a fucking camera, Eddie thinks hotly. 

— 

Petsmart is like an aquarium at 6PM. The lights have been lowered, the fish tanks glowing bright blue and bubbling in the dim light. A hundred white and red babies swim erratically, their fins a blur in the top tank. Underneath, there are tanks filled with algae-eating snails that move surprisingly quickly. To the left, the big black goldfish with puffy cheeks lavish in their more spacious tank. 

"Where's the ones with the raspberry head?" Roan whispers. 

Your eyes follow a beautiful red goldfish the size of three fingers. "I don't know, little lady," you mumble, entranced by the goldfish's graceful arc. 

"Do you think Lucky would have a crush on him?" 

You look to where she's pointing at, little finger chasing a telescope fish. 

"I think he'd love him. He's a big one." 

"I thought Lucky wanted a girlfriend?" Eddie asks. 

"But all these ones are boys, dad." 

He frowns, endearingly confused. "How can you tell?" 

"I just know." 

You love the way she says it, love every little word she says. She sounds confident in her declaration but the way she pronounces her words harbours the clumsiness that comes with being a young kid, 'know' carrying a lot of weight, of humour, like she can't believe Eddie would say something that silly. 

"What about that one? She looks kinda girly, no?" 

The three of you watch the fish in question complete a small loopty-loop. 

"Nah," you say, "that's definitely a boy. He has abs." 

"They're called gills." 

"Do they have any pink fish?" Roan asks. 

"Maybe not. They have pink plants. Hey, I saw the ornaments on the way in, they have a castle. Think Lucky would like that?" 

If Petsmart didn't close at 6.30 you could stay and watch the fish tanks with them forever. You hop along to the ornaments and try to catalogue all the ones Roan expresses an interest in. Buying them won't count as spoiling her, it'll be spoiling Lucky. Eddie can't possibly be irked over that. 

"Don't even think about it," he mouths. 

You remember Roan's unhappy face when she was confronted with the horror of the mall Santa up close and decide she can't leave empty handed. 

"Why don't we get him something now? You can put it in his tank tonight before bed." 

"Really?" Roan asks. 

"Go crazy." 

Roan hesitates, spoiled for choice, hands feeling over the ornaments one at a time. Eddie tells her she can't pick anything from the tip shelf and you're glad for it, because it is Christmas coming and they're extortionate hand crafted things you cannot afford. 

"This one," she says. 

She picks up a heavy looking Christmas tree glued to a white plate, multi-coloured presents nestled at the trunk. It's a glorious twelve dollars. 

You let Roan carry the bag out of the Petsmart. She turns to Eddie and says, "Please make sure Santa gets Lucky a girlfriend like the one with the big eyes. And please tell him that I have the best new mommy and the bed and the new house, please." 

He beams at her. "We can strike those off the list, for sure. What do you want now you got all the stuff you asked for last year?" 

"Pink hair." 

Eddie whistles through his teeth appreciatively. "Gnarly." 

"And a bounce house," she adds. 

He shakes his head at you before you can ask.

[marshmallowprotection]

Saeran and Saeyoung Birthday Art Analysis 2024!

I don't know if anybody grasps how insane it is to have an image of Unknown and MC in a romantic light. Do you know how many of us clamored for one of those in 2016? The fans are finally getting what they've been asking for all along!

You would think that they would have more images together because he's an antagonist and there are so many endings where you fall into his clutches, but they just don't exist. If we're speaking strictly about the game itself, there were only two images before last night where Unknown and MC were in the same frame.

Zen's Route and the Christmas DLC.

The only other photo we have apart from these two in game is the one from the Secret Ending where SE Saeran is next to MC. I do not count it even though Unknown and SE Saeran are the same person.

Because we use the names SE Saeran and Unknown in the fandom to distinguish between them—where they are in regards to the timeline is relative to white hair versus red hair, you know. I knew we didn't have many pictures with him, but when I went back to double check myself, I was put in a position where I felt floored.

All these years, and these are the only pictures we have in the game of Unknown and MC? I don't know why I briefly thought there might have been more than that.

I am so happy regardless of the quantity because the quality of the picture we received last night was beyond my expectation. I didn't think we were going to get separate pictures. I think most, if not all of us, assumed the boys would be together and there would be no sign of MC. That's the way it's been for the past 2 years, after all.

In favor of doing less art, they decided to put the brothers together instead of separating them. I can't fault them for that because it has to take a long time to do art for them! It's a surprise when we're able to get more than one, though!

I think the thing that stood out to me almost right away was the use of purple. Now, Ray, Suit Saeran, and GE Saeran are depicted with the color pink. But, do you know who was depicted with only purple before that? Unknown.

I know this may not be something the newer fans are familiar with, but, in all of the merchandise that used to be created for Unknown, his accent color was a deep purple. I can give you a few examples to look at. I knew this was Unknown when I looked at it, but the fact the artist went out of their way to use purple told me they knew what they were doing.

I like seeing him with purple because it's an homage to the beginning and he's been watching us from the start. To be completely honest, I liked the idea that the Saeran hearts would be his purple. I was all too surprised when they gave him a magenta color, which is a blend of a nice pink and purple.

It makes sense for his character in Another Story, but when I think about Unknown and SE Saeran, I can't detach them from purple. I'm certainly not complaining, purple is my favorite color. These ribbons are close to my favorite shade of purple, which is lilac, so it's lighter than his traditional purple, but close enough to make my heart swell.

Actually, I know what you guys were waiting for. You came into this post to ask me questions about flowers and by God, I'm going to tell you guys about flowers. So, I'm going to lay down the flowers that are depicted in the photo and you guys are going to listen to it.

The flowers that are in MC's hair could go one way or the other. I'm going to present both options and leave it up to you to decide. They could be camellias or peach blossoms. Visually, they do share some similarities but in a photo like this where artistic choices have been made for minimalism, it's hard to figure it out one way or the other.

Pink Camellias.

Pink camellias can symbolize longing, especially for someone who is missed. They can be given to friends or romantic partners in both platonic and romantic relationships. For example, they can be a good choice for someone in a long distance relationship.

Peach Blossom.

In Chinese culture, it is believed that its delicate and pink petals have the power to cleanse the spirit and attract good luck and fortune. The blossoms are often used in traditional Japanese art and poetry to symbolize the transience of life and the importance of cherishing every moment. In addition, peach blossom flowers are also associated with the spring season, which represents new beginnings and growth.

Okay, the rest of these I'm sure of and don't think I'm wagering a wrong guess.

Red Roses.

Red roses are a classic symbol of love, passion, romance, and devotion. Red roses have been used as a way to express love for centuries, even when verbal expression was considered inappropriate. During the Victorian era, lovers used the language of flowers, or floriography, to send secret messages.

The shade of red can also have different meanings: Bright red: Symbolizes passion, love, and desire Dark red: Represents deep emotions, longing, and devotion

Red Alstroemerias.

Red alstroemeria, also known as the Peruvian lily, can symbolize love, passion, romance, and intense feelings. It can also be a way to say "I love you" without using red roses. The alstroemeria flower is the flower of total happiness. It symbolizes the sheer pleasure of being together, in friendship, as well as in love.

Pink Roses.

Pink roses can symbolize sweetness, femininity, appreciation, and admiration. They can also represent grace, gentleness, and joy. Pink roses are a delightful way to express gratitude for someone, for any type of relationship, romantic or not. Lighter hues of pink reference joy in relationships. This can symbolize the beginning of a new relationship with blossoming feelings towards one another, or simply the beginning of a great friendship.

Unknown falling in love with somebody is something that happened slowly, not all at once. You need to respect his boundaries. It is beyond important to help him feel like he's his own person, to allow him the opportunity to look in the mirror and not feel sick at the person he sees. You help him realize there's more to life than what he gave up on, and he can dream of a better world. He's grateful to have known you.

He adores and admires you but he can't always say it. It's hard to say he loves you. It's hard to say those specific words. It puts him in a vulnerable place. It takes him time to say it because no matter how much he tells himself that you won't hurt him when he confesses his vulnerability, there's always a fear in the back of his head.

That fear never goes away even if he wants it to. He doesn't want to think that way, though. He doesn't want to be afraid, either. But, that is one of the reasons why it takes so long to get close to him in the first place. You need to break down his walls and he needs to let you break them down to begin with. You need to show him that he isn't being forced to trust or even like you. You only want him to trust you because he wants to.

You want him to have self-autonomy.

You sit together at first, then you start holding hands little by little, and it builds from that point. You steal glances at each other, you smile, you laugh, and he sighs, not because he's annoyed, but rather because, he's happy. He's happy to see you smile and by God, he's so happy he can smile after a lifetime of apathy. He doesn't need to kiss you to show you he loves you... and even if he takes forever to say the three little words, you almost don't even need to say it.

That's how good you are at being able to communicate with each other silently.

There's something very deeply beautiful about Unknown or even SE Saeran holding hands with you. It's the way I've always imagined him to express his affection.

Even if he can't say it, he can show it.

I'm going to cover this in this post because I've talked about it all day at this point. I'm aware of the AI accusations for Saeyoung's artwork in particular. Please read this post I made about the subject since it needs to be spoken about in some capacity. I'm aware of people who have already reached out to Cheritz for clarity, so we're going to have to wait and see what they have to say about the matter.

[Post]

I can't say if AI was used one way or the other in the image. I can say I understand why people believe that portion of the image was created with AI. I think the artist was forced to go on a time crunch to get out the image out by this Thursday no matter what.

As far as we know, there's only one artist doing all this art. Counting the four images released last night, that makes a total of five images for the month of June. That is a lot of artwork for anyone to do, much less to complete in a month. July is also the anniversary, which leads me to believe that this artist probably was told they needed to get the art done for this month so they could get started on that image since anniversary art has almost always had a lot of characters.

This is PURE SPECULATION but it's possible that the time crunch and deadline they're on had Cheritz make them use AI to touch up or even finish the image they drew to meet the deadline; And, if it wasn't AI, there's also REASON TO SPECULATE, that they rushed the artist to get it out even if they made mistakes.

Because, I noticed one error in the Unknown artwork that could be an artist mistake, one that a lot of artists make. That's the fact that one of the water ripples is just above the frosting on the cake? I swear I've done things like that before. I'll have the layer in the wrong place and I won't notice until I post it. I hate it when that happens, but, hey it's a mistake a lot of artists make accidentally.

I don't want to believe that Cheritz would use AI in Mystic Messenger art because they said they wouldn't but words are just words. They're not powerful when Cheritz used AI in the past without so much as a second thought. Once you break that trust it is damn near impossible to win that trust back. I can't blame people for speculating when they see something off in an image. But, I hate that it's come to this and it isn't fair to anyone.

[Another Rant about AI]

I hate that the current environment has people on edge. I hate that people have to prove themselves. I hate that people can't trust each other. I hate that we have to deal with art theft. I hate that we have to see artists suffer. I hate that art theft nearly killed this fandom in the first place and THAT art theft is not only art being reposted without credit now, it's art being STOLEN and USED TO TRAIN AI.

I hate that Cheritz even remotely thought it was okay to use AI in the SSUM. I hate that people look at what could possibly be a byproduct of an artist being rushed to meet a direct deadline no matter what is seen as AI. I hate the possibility that AI was actually used in the art to get it done, no matter how much AI was used, whether it just be for a cake, or the entire image itself.

I hate that art is being fed to soulless algorithms for some heartless people to churn out bullshit because they don't want to learn how to draw and they don't want to pay actual artists what they're worth.

Because no matter what, AI or not, it hurts me to know that AI itself caused this conversation to begin in the first place. Even if there's no AI involved, like I said, rushing an artist to meet a deadline isn't it. We could've waited another week. All you had to do was say, "We need a little more time! Sorry folks!"

Transparency is what makes a world of difference for people.

Cheritz broke the trust of their fans by using AI in the first place, and once you break someone's trust, they might never trust you again. It's painful but it's true. So, AI or not in the birthday artwork, the reason I have to say something about this at all is because they used AI in the SSUM and now the smallest error in a drawing makes people want to speculate and tear the image apart to find out if it's AI or not.

It hurts me because I look forward every year to being able to write and analyze the artwork we've given. I love being able to find details that show me the artist really put their heart into it. That's something AI can't do. It can make a concept all day long, it can even make the art look "pretty", but it's making it with our stolen artwork and that's what makes it soulless.

It stole the hearts of wonderful artists and their hard work to create an amalgamation of "self-gratifying" bullshit by people who just don't care about the time and effort that goes into creative pursuits. I don't want to sit here and talk about how much I hate AI, I want to sit here and write about how much I love Mystic Messenger and what it has done for me and my life. But, I can't avoid the elephant in room when I talk about this art because the less we talk about what's happening, the more of a damn problem it is.

Until we see some clarity from Cheritz, we won't know one way or the other about the mistakes in the artwork. I want to believe the artist in this situation was rushed to meet the deadline and that lead to some mistakes slipping through the cracks. If that's not the case, then I will have to come back to this post and edit it to say, "Wow, they used AI for sure. It's no longer speculative."

I'm disappointed either way that we have to live this way.

I just don't like having to live in a world where we have no real choice but to analyze and speculate for AI all the damn time. The world is a bad enough place as it is at times, even if we all try our best to find a sense of good in it, and I'm so exhausted. So, hang tight, hopefully it is just a mistake of the artist being rushed to meet the deadline. That is my hope. It may be a naive and childish hope, but I'm so tired and I just don't want to hear them say they used AI again.

We'll see.

Moving on because I want to talk about what I noticed in the cake that didn't set me off.

So, I'm going to break your hearts in a matter of seconds. Prepare yourself for this one. So, in the birthday illustration from two years ago, Saeran and Saeyoung have a cake with both strawberries and blueberries.

That look on Saeran's face seems to imply the cake was a surprise to him. Saeyoung is winking as he looks at the cake, which tells me he's recently figured out his brother likes strawberries and blueberries on his cake. When I was analyzing that photo two years ago, I suspected that maybe Saeyoung liked blueberries.

But, that went against the core headcanon I've had for years about Saeyoung loving cherries. I've shaped a lot of his interest around his love of cherries in my mind, so to see him with a cherry cake stands out as an important reference and a brief moment for me to say that I got it right, hehehe! It makes sense, Dr. Pepper has cherry flavor in it.

But, do you notice something else interesting about that cherry cake? It's from Saeran! That tells me he wants his brother to have something that he enjoys for his birthday instead of always doing something for him instead. He needs to stop diminishing his own needs in favor of Saeran's.

Which, if anybody was going to make a point of telling him to think more of himself, I think the only person he would listen to would be his brother and to some extent, his MC. That man never thinks about what he wants. He would rather take the clothes off of his back every time if it means somebody else gets to be warm even if it makes him cold.

You know what, MC appreciation moment because I love the dress MC is wearing. It feels in style for them because it looks a lot like the dress from the proposal scene!

Did you guys know that there are flowers on the cake? You have to let your eyes look beyond the cherries! Right there! Did you know those flowers are also depicted in two other places in the game?

One place is in the common gallery where we see the bookmark that V tried to give Ray, and the other place we see is a birthday image from a few years ago with Saeyoung and MC, where they're wearing a set of matching rings. They are the same flower depicted time and time again to represent Saeyoung, well, outside of baby's breath. His Christmas CG was a baby's breath bouquet, after all!

Those flowers are geraniums.

Red geraniums are representative of a wish for good health. They are often gifted as a house-warming present to ward off negative energy from approaching your loved ones.

If you ask me, these are the perfect flowers to represent Saeyoung.

Who is he if not someone who has wanted to gift peace and protection to his brother? That's his dream, but I think in many ways, it's important he learns how to accept that he is also deserving of happiness and protection. Saeran wants his brother to be happy and healthy, too. It isn't fair for only Saeran to know peace and prosperity.

Saeyoung is just as worthy.

I think it's important to point out that the apartment drawn in this picture is not Rika's apartment. This is what her apartment looks like and we've got two angles to work with.

And this is the background in the new image. There is nothing similar about these backgrounds whatsoever!

Why is it significant? Well, I ask you to think about it a little bit harder than that. The bunker is the place he created to protect himself from all the monsters and demons that could ever think of hurting him and his family. He would never leave that bunker willingly unless he knew his family would be safe without a shadow of a doubt.

So, given the fact that he is in an apartment that's not Rika's—that means they've moved out of the bunker and they have a cute little apartment in the city.

An apartment where he doesn't have to feel like he has to live underground. He gets to see the sky, the clouds, the sun, the moon, buildings, people, and the rest of the world. He gets to have the world at his fingertips.

Can you believe that? Can you believe that this man whose face is a depiction of what it means to be paranoid in the dictionary is living in an apartment without fear? I can hardly believe it because I've always thought of him to be somebody who is terrified of what comes next.

I can't blame him for feeling that way because all of the monsters and demons he's afraid of are real. They're not something he cooked up in his head. They are real people who can hurt everyone he loves. So, for him to be in this apartment tells me that there is no longer a reason to be afraid.

His father and anyone from the agency who might come after him must be taken care of now. He doesn't have to be afraid and it means he gets to build the kind of life he wants to live. Better yet, he gets to have a normal life and it's a life worth living.

The cake is from his twin brother. I know I already talked about this earlier in the post, but I feel like it's an important distinction to bring it up here.

The only reason why he would have a cake delivery from his brother is if he wasn't with his brother on their birthday. I know, I know, I can already hear a lot of you trying to tell me that the boys shouldn't be separated. I don't think they should be separated either, but I do think this means SE Saeran gets to live separately from Saeyoung and MC.

I think that's the healthiest outcome after he's had time to heal and there's no more demons threatening their livelihoods.

He wouldn't want to live with his brother but that doesn't mean he wouldn't want to see his brother. That's why his sending a cake to his twin brother is such a big deal. Sure, they might have a celebration for their birthday together, but it's ultimately okay to have individual celebrations, too.

It's okay to enjoy the day by yourself.

Saeyoung is undoubtedly guilty of smothering his brother in this timeline. Many of us understand why he does it, and if you would like to read more about why he tries so hard in the first place, [I should point you in the direction of this post I wrote not too long ago about parentification.]

We know why he wants to do everything he can to make sure his brother stays alive and gets to experience life for what it is. But we also know that his methods aren't always the healthiest. He does the best with what he has but that doesn't make it okay, you know? His smothering of Saeran is... well, we know why he does it, but it doesn't make it the right choice.

His willingness to let his brother live alone is a huge step not only for his paranoia but in working to heal the relationship between them after everything that happened in the Secret Ending and Saeyoung's Route.

I don't think they would live far apart from each other, but I do think there would be enough distance so they could breathe. They need to be able to be individuals just as much as they need to be a family in my opinion. See, this is one timeline where I think it would be for the best if they didn't live together.

I want them to live together post-RAE. But, the only reason why I can see that working is because they're in a different position and it's easier for them to talk about their issues in a constructive way. You can't have that in the SE, per se. It's not tainted forever but it's not easy for either one of them to come to terms with everything.

I know things are going to get better for them in the future, but it's never going to be the way it was when they were kids. It couldn't even be like that in the RAE. There's just a different and unique sense of loss in the Secret Ending that isn't present in the RAE. It's not a bad thing, it's just different and that can be hard to stomach for a lot of people, I know.

Different lives, different choices, and different experiences led to different paths.

But, you know what gives me hope?

The fact that Unknown (or, who we could presume to be SE Saeran after dying his hair back to white) is wearing a cross. There is no real reason whatsoever for him to be wearing a cross. He's not the type to love church. Side eye at Mint Eye for being also being a byproduct of Rika's religious trauma.

He is not the religious type. I don't know for sure if he believes in God, but I know he believes in something, not sure what exactly, because he doesn't want to believe in nothing. I can't see him wearing a cross as it isn't something that brings him peace. But you know who it does brings peace to? His older brother, Saeyoung.

So, if you ask me, I think his brother gave him the cross because that was a way to make sure his brother was always protected.

"Could you wear this for me? It's okay if you don't want to wear it, I just... I want you to hang onto this for me while we're living apart. I... want you to have a piece of me with you. I know that's asking a lot of you... Something to always remind you that I'm thinking of you and that I never stopped thinking of you. This kept me safe and even if it's not the same magic for you— I want you to know you this is a part of me that is undeniable. You'll never have to doubt yourself. You'll have a piece of Saeyoung-hyung with you this time while we're separated. Not forever... we can see each other whenever we want now."

Because Saeran had no proof his brother existed outside of his own memories until Mint Eye gave him the chance to peek into the RFA servers.

Even if it's silly, Saeyoung wants his brother to have a piece of his soul to keep him safe. Saeran being ultimately willing to wear a cross is a big deal, and being willing to wear the same cross his brother has worn for years is an even larger deal. Saeyoung believes in that cross.

The cross kept him safe and he clutched onto it tightly when he prayed for Saeran's happiness.

That cross is filled with years of Saeyoung's belief and hope for a happy tomorrow.

It's just as much proof of as the images on the floppy disc are. The church is what helped Saeyoung find a way to help himself and his brother, and even if it didn't work out the way he planned, that still means something to him.

Saeran's wearing something his brother gave him to keep him safe and he's not mad about it. He didn't steal that cross, either. It's not a show of power to mock Saeyoung. The image that is reflected at the top of this post is not one where we are meant to be at the cusp of an elixir bathtub.

It's a staged photo shoot.

It's one where Saeran is looking at the camera.

His face doesn't seem like the typical one you'd expect for someone rotting away in Mint Eye. He seems more at peace. If that is the case, then it makes sense that he's wearing something of his brother's to give him peace of mind. It's a token he took not because he wanted his brother not to smother him—but because it's something he took as he finally understood that his brother just wanted to protect him even if he hasn't always done it the way Saeran might have liked.

After all, it's not Saeyoung's fault that Rika and V failed.

Something something, these bracelets remind me of shackles after the chains have been broken. Unknown is no longer bound in chains. He's free. What more could anyone want for him? In conclusion, I will say that I love him very much and I'm going to keep staring at him for a while to feel better after this long day. Oh, wait, I have one more left in me.

MC'S DRESS LOOKS LIKE A BIG FLOWER AND UNKNOWN IS THE CENTER PIECE.

[bridenore]

HD fic recs : Career - Aurors (part 1)

Here are a few recs where both Harry and Draco are Aurors. This is part one of three and focuses on shorter fics (up to 20k). Listed in alphabetical order, as always.

but first, we fight by @nv-md [8k]

Fighting with Draco Malfoy has never been quite this  thrilling…or this frustrating. Harry’s always horny, Draco’s in  denial, and there simply isn’t enough time in the day to fight crime and  watch your ex-archnemesis wash his arse. Or what it’s like to be in love with Draco Malfoy and have to see him naked in the goddamn shower.

Christmas With Draco by @dracogotgame [9k]

Harry tries to give a two year old Draco the best Christmas ever.

Dark Places by @bixgirl1 [8k]

Harry and Draco have been Auror partners and even friends for the last few years–damn good ones, at that–which is why Harry’s never tried to change their relationship despite his feelings.   Until, of course, they’re on assignment and get locked in a wardrobe together. Remix of Leontina’s “Pure Imagination”

Draco L Malfoy (the L stands for legs) by @starquestingfordrarry [1k]

Harry could spend the rest of his life in the embrace of Draco Malfoy’s legs. If he was lucky, he would.

Fall on the Earth by @dodgerkedavra [15k]

Harry Potter hates being separated from Draco Malfoy. Not because he’s in love with him, for Merlin’s sake! Because they’re Auror Partners. One time is all it takes for Draco to be attacked with an illicit potion. Until it wears off, Harry’s job is taking care of his partner. Harry thinks the effects of the potion can’t possibly be as serious as Robards says. He thinks wrong.

Feeling Everything (from lust to truth) by badjujuboo [7k]

The one thing Draco wanted from Harry was the one thing Harry wouldn’t give. But the sex was great

Fool rushes in by oldenuf2nb / @dianacopland [15k]

In a burst of unexplained magic, Harry Potter’s Auror partner Draco Malfoy has simply disappeared. Frantic with worry, terrified that something really terrible has happened to the other man, Harry realizes that what he feels for him just might be more than friendship.

The Great Magic Sex Mushroom Fiasco by @magnolia822  [6k]

Lost in the Siberian wilderness without food, Aurors Potter and Malfoy are forced to improvise, with unexpected consequences …

A House on Fire by @p1013 [5k]

For the last five years, Auror Draco Malfoy has walked into his office with hardly a glance at the illusioned window taking up the back wall. It looks out over an imagined London, a perfectly bright and brilliant view of the city that hides the smog and rain and dirt that clings to the city like a patina of time that can never be worn away. It's always a perfect summer's day with soft, white clouds that float through the painfully bright blue sky like a dream. He likes to imagine the gentle breeze that ripples the surface of the Thames brushing across his skin, since he'll never be able to actually feel it. After all, his office is located on the second floor and is, therefore, underground. Or at least that's what he did before the seventh of October, 2009.

if i could never give you peace by @poisonivy206 [17k]

There are all these bruises on Harry’s memory. A blond boy with a hand outstretched. On a broom. Walking the halls of Hogwarts like a ghost. Climbing up to the Astronomy Tower. On and on, the moments in which Draco Malfoy has cut into him, buried himself in him, until what held Harry together were all the ways in which he wanted to take Draco apart. And now his skin is so close, burning hot, his grip like a vice on Harry’s bicep, on the back of his neck. He smells like the forest, like ashes, like sweat and memories. Eleven years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Aurors Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are forcibly brought together by a new case that’s bound to reopen old wounds. Enter a Firewhisky problem, prejudices that never really go away, and an obsession as old as time.

Is This Love? by @phd-mama [3k]

Draco wouldn’t call himself a tender man. He fights the forces of evil for a living, trying his best to pay penance for the evil he’s done. He’s fought and killed in the name of duty, and when he’s not on duty, he tends either to play hard or retreat alone. He doesn’t lean on anyone, and he knows he’s not the first person anyone goes to when they need care. Comfort. That all changes tonight.

It Came Without A Warning by @p1013 [5k]

The locker room door had opened, not surprising considering how many other Aurors were involved in the sting, and there was a set of footsteps, ones Harry had learned to recognise over the last three months. “Malfoy?” he yelled. “Is that you?” “Piss off, Potter,” was the exhausted response, and though Harry knew his recalcitrant partner wouldn’t be able to see it, he smiled.

Little Talks by @femmequixotic and @noeeon [11k]

Draco’s been shagging the Head Auror for months now, and he’s sure it’s just a fling. Until Harry asks him to a Quidditch match, that is, and things go horribly wrong.

Observations by penguin474 [17k]

When his new Auror partner turns out to be Draco Malfoy, Harry isn’t pleased, but there are surprises waiting.

Pinky Promises Are Powerful Magic by megyal [12k]

Ickle Harry wants to stay with his newest hero.

The Safe House by @emmagrant01 [10k]

Aurors Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are forced to spend Christmas together in a safe house. Bet you can guess what happens. ;-)

Special Magic by lauren3210 [7k]

Harry was seriously considering the fact that his partner might be completely insane.

Summer Place by @wolfpants [14k]

Draco has the perfect life: a perfect house on a perfect street with his perfect husband. It’s all he’s ever wanted. So why does something still feel wrong? 

That which hurts (and is desired) by @shealwaysreads ( onereader ) [19k]

Draco was lying still, and pale, on a bed in a private room in St Mungo’s. The sheets were white, clean, enchanted against stains, vanishing the blood that kept spilling out of him. He hadn’t moved in two days. Not a twitch of his elegant fingers. Not a blink of his fierce eyes. Harry couldn’t even see the faint flutter of his pulse in his throat from where he stood at the foot of the bed, helpless, impotent, furious. There is nothing Harry wouldn’t do for the people he cares about. As it turns out, that might bring him everything he’s ever wanted.

Title of Their Sex Tape by @cibeewastaken [12k]

What are the Wizarding world’s most elite law enforcers doing when they aren’t catching criminals? It seems Auror Malfoy is often caught throwing food into Auror Potter’s mouth when he’s mid-yawn. This story isn’t about Draco throwing food at Harry. What it does have is: Undercover! Heists! Draco pining for Harry! Harry being oblivious, but also can’t help noticing how good Draco smells! Banters and jokes! That’s about it. 

To Be Out of Your Own (and consumed by another) by @cassiaratheslytherpuff [18k]

By now even Harry recognises the pattern; he’d be an idiot not to. He’ll have sex, and in the moment it’ll be amazing. In the moment he simply is, he feels without thinking. Good, bad, pleasure and pain, he can just let go and feel he isn’t the one in charge. Then he wakes up the next morning feeling disgusting and worthless and swears to never do it again. Still, it helps him forget about his stress, his anxiety and his hopeless crush on his Auror partner so he keeps going back.

What Real Thing? by @l0vegl0wsinthedark [12k]

They don’t cuddle, they don’t talk about their relationship (or lack thereof) and they certainly never fall asleep in each other’s arms.

The Way You Say My Name by InnerLilith [5k]

In which Malfoy calls Harry pet names to get him flustered and riled up, and Harry gets flustered and riled up because he secretly likes it. The problem is that Malfoy is only teasing…or is he?

When the Fallout Comes by @maesterchill [7k]

Draco Malfoy, hard-as-nails Hit Wizard, has a secret obsession. Well two of them. Or ten, depending how far that metaphor can stretch. It’s hard to put a finger on exactly when it tipped from the occasional off-hand observation into something more gripping, but suffice to say it’s now getting a touch out-of-hand. Hands. It’s Potter’s hands. He’s obsessed with Potter’s hands.

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

[prolix-yuy]

On the Right Flight

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x F!Reader

Summary: A long flight with a gorgeous neighbor takes a hard turn when you get on his favorite subject - Nicholas Cage.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, allusions to sex, PiV sex, brief hint of voyeurism, lots of fantasizing, we are Looking Disrespectfully, plenty of sweetness dumped on top.

Notes: I had the worst writers block for this, but then went on a plane and remembered all the fun/not fun things about flying. Plus traveling for the holidays would be greatly improved with a dose of Javi.

I apologize for one moment and one moment only in this story. You'll know what I mean when you get there.

Cross-posted on AO3

For once, you pray to the gods of airline transportation, let there be no one in the window seat.

It’s futile, you know. It’s LA to Boston and you’ve never seen an empty seat, but you’re hoping that this one time you’ll get a little respite. You’re already fed up with having to pay extra for an emergency row seat, no other options left on the only flight that gets you to your parents in time. Then the dread of endless questions about your work (fine), love life (dismal) and future plans (???) just adds to your crankiness. It’s the holidays, you’re going home, and you could use a holiday miracle. 

At least the expansive legroom is a plus.

You like LA, but no snow in December is weird. Growing up in places where snowfall is a guarantee makes you miss it all the more when towering evergreens are carted into the Grove and fake snow looks strangely post-apocalyptic against a 75 degree sunny day. It doesn’t feel right without the tip of your nose being perpetually cold and a scarf devouring you from shoulder to chin. 

Plus you still have a handful of presents to get, and the anticipation of a long flight is making you antsy about your procrastination. There are still a couple days, but one present has eluded you this year and you’re getting desperate.

“Excuse me.”

A polite voice, Spanish accented, lifts over the murmurs and rumbles of the plane. Your heart sinks briefly.

“Sorry, is this your seat?” you ask, sliding your shoulder bag out of the way before getting a good look at the man waiting in the aisle.

And you do get a good look.

A long one.

Probably uncomfortably long.

But holy hell he’s gorgeous.

He definitely doesn’t belong in coach, and if the cogs in your brain could turn at all you might have asked him if he was in the right aisle, but instead you numbly stare as he steps around your knees. He nods with a tight smile, tucking his elbows and broad shoulders as he squashes into the small window seat. Against the dull beige and navy of the walls and seats he’s a cream and maroon dream, a lightweight striped jacket barely zipped over a white shirt. Tan chinos hug his thick thighs as he twists to find the seat belt, a tiny slip of his tan stomach peeking out. You look up desperately at the flight attendant, whose expression is almost as shocked as yours, before settling back into your seat. 

Six and a half hours next to this golden god might actually be a Christmas miracle, but not one you’d ever dream to wish for.

You follow basic plane etiquette, pretending he isn’t there as you arrange your belongings just how you like them. Without a seat directly in front of you most of your supplies remain stuffed in your bag - a bottle of water, your iPad loaded with movies and tv shows, snacks easily in reach, headphones at the ready. You do sneak a peek at your seatmate’s luscious caramel curls, the intriguing curve of his nose, the perfect dip above his chin where pursed lips tempt.

Stop it, you scold yourself, you’re not in a goddamn Hallmark movie.

“Sorry,” comes that rich voice again, heavily apologetic as he waves to get your attention. Pretending you just noticed him - very smooth, you praise yourself - you turn and nod with your best people-pleaser smile. “I am not sure how to make all this work,” he sighs, mouth downturned and brow knitted. A wild gesture to the lack of a tray table, or entertainment display, makes you bite back a smile.

Hot and hopeless? Oh no.

“The tray is in the armrest, you have to flip it out. Same for the TV screen. The headphone jack is here,” you indicate quietly, though your elderly aisle neighbor is not paying much attention, “and you can plug in your phone here,” you add, tapping at the ports in the armrest. His face lights up, then falls when he fails to have the correct cable. You’re not normally this forward with someone you just met, but there’s something about the fish out of water routine that’s making you bold.

“Here, you can share mine, I won’t need it much for the flight,” you offer, fishing the other end of your cord out of your bag. The man’s face breaks into relief - you’ve never seen so many expressions in such a short time - before he thanks you over and over. It makes heat tingle at the tips of your ears and the back of your neck.

“You must think I am quite foolish,” he murmurs when he finally settles into his seat, wincing at the stiffness. 

“Don’t fly coach much?” you ask, fighting your smirk when he throws up his hands, the gesture too big for the tiny space he’s occupying.

“Can you believe every plane was booked for two weeks? My assistant barely got me on this one!” he groans, and the tiniest part of you loves the plight of an obvious mucky-muck living like the plebeians. His face turning to you, capturing you in an intensely focused gaze, dries out your mouth.

“You are laughing,” he states, more incredulity heaped on. You can’t help the smile and snort that eke out of your unwilling mouth.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…you gotta know how silly that sounds,” you say, flight attendants beginning safety demonstrations in the aisle. You lower your voice further. “My assistant had to book me in coach because it’s three days before Christmas, oh the humanity!” 

For a moment you’re nervous you’ve offended him, the blank expression he pins you with making you fiddle with your fingers. Then he covers his face, a thick gold pinky ring only adding to the ridiculousness of the situation.

“You are right, I sound like the worst sort of person. My apologies, I will try to be a better seat-mate.” You shake your head, waving your hand at his apology before settling back into the seat. “I’m Javi, by the way,” he says, and you give him your name in return. He repeats it back to you, along with another few apologies, before leaning over to finish settling himself for the flight. The plane begins taxing, and the telltale rumble of the jets lulls you into closing your eyes. 

Your right arm is warm, pressed against something amazingly comfortable. Considering snuggling into it, you’re shocked awake remembering you’re on a plane and you’ve accidentally slumped against the golden man - Javi’s - arm. 

“Sorry,” you whisper, straightening, but he only smiles (holy shit can he get more attractive?) and shrugs.

“We are all on this plane together, what is a little touch?” he whispers back before returning to scrolling through an iPad. His is bigger, the nice pro version that’s almost the size of an actual computer. You begin to settle back into your plane nap when a hefty list of titles flash by.

“That’s a lot of Nic Cage,” you comment sotto voce, the rumble and white noise of the plane keeping your conversation relatively private. Javi looks at you blankly, one eyebrow quirked.

“He is my favorite actor,” he says, and the seriousness of this statement bleats a little laugh from your lips. This furrows his brow further, though his eyes do dart to your mouth briefly.

“Sorry, it’s not funny, it’s just…serendipity,” you say, adding more confusion to Javi’s face. You wave your hands, centering yourself.

“You celebrate Christmas?” you ask, and he nods, confused. “Okay, so every Christmas I’ve got this tradition with my sister. It all started one year when she said she didn’t like Nic Cage movies.”

“How could she dislike one of the greatest actors in film history?” Javi interrupts, now half perched in his seat and animated, hands flying. It makes you lose your train of thought, those soft brown eyes now shockingly sharp. You swallow once before continuing.

“I don’t think she hates him or anything, she just thinks he’s silly, and plays a lot of goofy roles.” At this Javi flops back in his seat, rubbing a hand over his face. The dramatics are making you giddy, a frenetic energy barely contained in your body as you try not to disturb the quiet travelers surrounding you.

“Has she never seen Raising Arizona? Con Air?” he interrogates, counting several more movies you didn’t even know he was in. Shrugging, you watch his face fall.

“She got through Ghost Rider and Face/Off before she called it quits,” you say, shoulders shaking at the exasperation rolling off his broad ones. 

“Please don’t tell me you feel the same,” Javi pleads. You shake your head.

“He’s made some…questionable choices, but I unironically love Lord of War, and National Treasure is just fun to watch,” you say, the flight attendants starting beverage service. 

“Thank goodness,” he grumbles, folding up his iPad to have enough space. The flight attendant moves to take drink orders, a professional smile following, “Something for you?”

“Champagne,” Javi says, almost off-hand, which shoots the flight attendant’s eyebrows up to his hairline. Warmed by conversation, you test a tease.

“You’re not in first class anymore, Toto, try a vodka.” Javi’s cheeks pink, but he does order a vodka soda instead. You begin to order a ginger ale when Javi interrupts.

“No no, it’s a long flight, you should have a drink too,” he says, the confused flight attendant’s eyes darting between your conversation.

“Oh no, that’s all right…”

“You drink, yes?”

“I do.”

“Then you should have a drink.”

“I, uh…”

Javi addresses the flight attendant directly, and where embarrassment radiated off him before is now confidence.

“She’ll have a drink on me,” he says definitively, and when he catches your eye there’s a sweet smile that makes your heart pound. “You should have a drink with me.”

Moments later you’re sipping on your own vodka soda and the flight attendant is giving you an approving nod as he moves on to the next row. 

“So your sister does not like Nic…” Javi prompts, your story brought back to the forefront sharply. 

“Yes, right! So after she told me this, I was looking for her Christmas present and found this ridiculous pillow on Amazon that I had to get her. It’s sequins, and when you brush them a certain way…”

“...you can see a photo of Nic,” Javi finishes, to your surprise. “I have the same one.”

“Get out, you do not!” you reprimand, the vodka starting to warm your blood and loosen your tongue. 

“I do! It’s part of my collection.”

“You have a collection?!”

The next half hour is spent slowly sipping your drink and enjoying the hell out of Javi’s extensive Nic Cage collection, complete with photos. The wax statue is a little much, but the golden guns are pretty badass. You’re half distracted with Javi’s proximity, leaned in to flip through his photos, shoulder to shoulder. Tart orange peel and the clean musk of some expensive cologne engulfs your senses. Add the relaxing effects of the booze and you’re actively trying not to cuddle up to this stranger with an insane amount of movie memorabilia. 

“But you have not told me what your sister and Nic have to do with Christmas?” Javi finally says, leaning back in his seat and finishing his drink. 

“Okay, okay, so after that first Christmas it’s a tradition every year. I get her some silly Nic Cage thing, she pretends to get mad about it, and we all have a good laugh. So far it’s been the pillow, a shirt, a mug, and a really awful coloring book.” Javi shakes his head and laughs, catching the flight attendant’s eye to bring another round of drinks. You’re pretty sure that’s not how it works in coach, but Javi’s charisma gets him two nips and two glasses of ice palmed to him surreptitiously. If only you had that charm.

“So what is the gift this year? Pants? Shoelaces?” he teases, pouring your drinks. 

“That’s the problem! I haven’t found it yet! I’ve looked everywhere for the perfect gift and I am coming up empty!” You slump back in your seat, accepting the second drink with a wry smile. “I’m gonna break my streak.”

“I may be able to help you with that,” Javi says with a sly little smile, looking at you over the top of his cup. 

“Something out of your collection? I’m sure you’ve got some fun things in there you’re not showing me,” you say, altitude and alcohol making that come out flirtier than you expected. 

“Even better. I know Nic,” he says, beginning a standoff between your incredulous face and his smug one.

“You’re joking.”

“I wrote a screenplay, he was the lead. We’re good friends.”

You have to bury your mouth in your elbow to keep from screeching like a pterodactyl.

“You’re fucking with me, really?”

“He came and stayed at my home. He’s an incredible man - talented, kind, humble, funny. I could call him up the second we land and have him record something for your sister. It would be the ultimate gift.” 

You have to admit, that would be incredible. A personalized message from Nic Cage himself? Your sister would shit a brick. You would win Christmas for sure. 

“And what would you want in return for being my Christmas miracle?” you ask, but Javi only shakes his head good-naturedly.

“Only the pleasure of your company,” he says breezily. You scoff at that.

“I don’t think my company is quite worth that.”

“I do.”

The air thickens around you, not daring to look up and see what expression Javi is wearing. Instead you let your finger run the circuit of your cup rim, hot flashes bursting along your collar. Your heartbeat thuds with twin thoughts - yes yes yes and not worthy. 

Some air would probably do you good. You excuse yourself to the restroom and lock the door firmly behind you. 

The tiny plastic sink is grounding under your hands, the hum of alcohol in your blood receding. A glance at yourself in the mirror makes you grimace - disheveled, tired eyes, rumpled loungewear that suits plane travel but not handsome strangers chatting you up. You splash a little water on your face, fortifying yourself for the return to your seat. Anyways, Javi’s out of your league, fun only because you’re trapped in a plane together. He clearly has money or comes from money, and once outside this pressurized tube you’d never be able to hold a candle to the life he has. 

So stop fucking fantasizing about what you would do if he opened that door right now and joined you in this tiny bathroom. If he’d be soft and sweet, plying you with passionate kisses as he lifted you to balance on the edge of the sink. Or maybe those flashes of focus you kept glimpsing were signs of a man who would fuck you hard and fast, time a factor but attentive to your pleasure. Would he urge you to bite down on his shoulder to muffle your cries before he spills his seed on your inner thighs?

Are you fucking rhyming now?

Sighing, you open the door and run almost directly into the man himself, a sheepish smile on his face. Your face is on fire, nodding and smiling as you pass in the tiny space outside the bathroom. Returning to your seat you try to center yourself, but a tap on your arm directs you to your forgotten aisle neighbor. She smiles conspiratorially.

“He’s single,” she says simply, eyes sparkling, and you share a secret giggle at her wingmanning your chance encounter. “And he’s clearly interested, trust me. If you don’t get his number you’ll be kicking yourself later,” she adds before going back to her show. Javi returns soon after, a few wet trails in his hair and a fresh face.

“It is not so bad in coach,” he muses, pulling out his iPad and opening up his library. 

“Even without the champagne?” you toss back, getting your own entertainment set up. The distance beginning to grow between you dampens your mood, fingers uncertain as they fiddle with the tech. 

“Even without the champagne,” Javi sighs back with a wink. He scrolls through and settles on something before looking up at you, lips parted around a question. You wait with baited breath.

“Do you…want to watch a movie with me?” he asks tentatively. “I was going to watch a favorite of mine, if you want me to AirDrop it to you?”

Heart fluttering but trying to keep your cool, you nod. “What movie?”

“Paddington 2.”

After all the Nic Cage talk, this takes you by surprise.

“I’ve never seen it.”

Javi’s face breaks out in joy.

“Then we have to watch it.”

How could you say no to that smile?

Syncing pressing play, you both settle in to watch the children’s movie. It’s honestly really good, Javi occasionally leaning over to whisper commentary in your ear. The tickle of his breath against the baby hairs along your nape is a delicious shudder you savor. 

After Paddington 2, it’s airline lunch, which Javi pokes at with an mistrusting face. You share some snacks between you as he queues up National Treasure, “the perfect movie for flying,” which leads you to debate whether that title should belong to Con Air.

It’s halfway through the movie (which still stands up after all these years) when your eyelids begin to pull, settling deeper into your uncomfortable seat. Javi peeks through his lashes, sliding a little closer.

“If you would like to close your eyes, you can lean on me,” he says with gentle hesitancy. 

“Don’t want to be a bother,” you protest, a yawn interrupting further thoughts. Javi gives you that soft smile you don’t feel worthy of receiving.

“What is a little touch between friends?” he says, an echo of his previous sentiment.

Everything, you think to yourself before resting your head against his warm shoulder. 

You dream of Javi between your legs in the plane bathroom, holding you tight to his chest as he fills you with his cock. He is whispering movie trivia to you, punctuating his thrusts with facts your mind can’t grip. Legs spread wide, head bumping against the mirror behind you, he pushes you higher and higher, hips snapping into your core. The door opens - Nic Cage pokes his head in, asking Javi about changes to a script. Javi pulls back to talk to him as he keeps fucking you senseless, swapping ideas as your orgasm hovers on the precipice. He turns back to your pleading face before absentmindedly licking his thumb and pressing it on your clit.

“Want to watch her cum, Nic?” he asks, your eyes rolling back in your head. 

A jolt of turbulence shocks you awake, your body in unbalanced arousal from that confusing dream. A wide palm strokes along your forearm, Javi’s rumbling hum right next to your ear.

“It is okay, conejita,” he murmurs, your mind blearily taking in how far you’ve leaned on him, his hand on your arm, his mouth moving against the crown of your head. “Only a few bumps, you can sleep.”

“What’s conny…” you mumble, but close your eyes at his urging. He breathes a puff of air into your scalp.

“You twitch your nose when you’re sleeping, like a bunny,” he says, hand slowing to only his thumb caressing your skin. Humming in response, you slip back under, thankfully into a dreamless sleep. 

You’re not sure how long it’s been when you finally rise, neck stiff and fingers tingling. Javi’s watching something in black and white, a man and a woman having an animated conversation. Straightening up, you wipe the corner of your mouth and pray you didn’t drool. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Javi teases, “they said we should be landing in an hour.” The rapidly approaching deadline makes you wish you hadn’t passed out, even if it was the most comfortable you’ve ever been on a plane. You want to ask Javi more about himself, the life he leads, the movies he loves. But the flight attendants are making the rounds, stilling your tongue. This is only a chance meeting, nothing more. 

The landing is smooth and uneventful, both of you watching the Boston skyline come into view. You ask Javi if he’s ever been before and when he responds in the negative you point out popular landmarks, the Leonard Zakim Bridge the easiest to spot.

De-boarding is always a mess, but with the extra legroom it’s easy to get your carry-on out quickly. Javi helps you get it down, pulling his own out as well. You stand and stretch your legs, admiring how Javi's shirt pulls across his back while he packs his belongings. 

With nods and smiles and “thank yous” said on the way out, you’re free from the tight confines and in the open air of Logan. It’s nothing fancy, but it feels like homecoming whenever you enter the familiar airport. 

“Walk you to baggage claim?” you ask, Javi’s expression blooming from uncertainty to agreement. You savor the last dregs of conversation, Javi telling you he’s visiting family friends on the Cape for a few weeks. The time to part is nearing, but you don’t know what you want to ask. For his email? His number? Could you really ask for anything?

Bags in hand and a man in a suit with a printed “Gutierrez” sign looking pointedly at Javi, you finally square up to your unlikely friend.

“Thanks for a fun flight, I can’t say I’ve had a better one,” you start, Javi waving his hands in protest.

“A pleasure for me as well.” The awkwardness mounts as Javi’s driver fidgets impatiently. Girding yourself, you speak.

“I should probably…”

“I need your number.”

Javi’s blurted out request stops your goodbye, eyes widening. His do too as he stumbles to explain, fishing his phone out of his pocket.

“For the video! From Nic. For your sister. I promised, didn’t I? And you were very good company, I must keep up my side of the deal,” he rushes out, flushing high in his cheeks. You couldn’t stop beaming if you tried.

“Yeah, you’re right, you’re gonna help me win Christmas for sure,” you say, typing your number into his phone. Relief dances in his eyes as you hand the phone back, sending a quick “It’s Javi” text to you. “You only have three days to get it, though, you’re on the clock.” 

“Nic will come through, I know it,” he says, hands wrapping around your upper arms. He hesitates, then pulls you into a hug that blocks out the sweat and grime and frustration of the world around you. Orange peel and warmth fill your nostrils, and you hug him back, face tucking under the light scruff of his jaw. He holds you for longer than you expect but just long enough to know you’ll miss being hugged like this.

“Take care, conejita,” he says, watching you over his shoulder as he leaves. You wait for him to be out of sight before heading on your way.

Christmas morning, after all the presents are opened, coffee is drunk and cheer is spread, you pair your phone to your parent’s TV and play a video message.

“Hi Clara, this is Nic Cage. My friend Javi told me you were one of my biggest fans. Now I don’t know if you can compete with him, but if he says so I have to think it’s at least a little bit true. So to my biggest fan, Merry Christmas, happy holidays, happy new year, and if you’re ever nearby I owe you a photo, a handshake, and some thanks for all your support. Take care.”

Your sister is in stitches, laughing on the floor and interrogating you about how you pulled it off. For now, your lips are sealed. 

The other video message, sent right after, you keep as your own Christmas present. 

“I told you he would come through, conejita! Merry Christmas, I hope you are spending it with the ones you love. Maybe we will be on the same flight back to LA and I will get to see you again? Or...ah, I have no plans for New Years…and you know, it’s bad luck to start the new year without a kiss. If you…would like to be mine, this year, maybe I can take you out. Yes. I would like to take you out. Please. If you want. Okay, let me…let me know. Okay, bye.”

You would very much like that.

END

Part 2: A Bearable Weight

[e-vay]

Hi e-vay! I hope you’re having a great day, I’ve been following you for a while, I loveee your art so so much, you inspire me greatly!

I hope I’m not being super nosy but, could you tell us the story of how you met Ryan? I’ll totally understand if you’re not comfortable answering, thank youu ´･ᴗ･`♡

Thank you so very much! 🥰

I don't mind answering this at all! Ryan and I used to work together. We were in the same department, in the same room, but we worked completely opposite shifts so we almost never saw each other except for the rare occasion that he was covering a shift for someone else

(I actually have a comic of one of our earlier interactions hahaha)

The few times I saw him I thought he was cute and my coworkers said he was very nice, but because we rarely interacted I knew nothing about him.

Our company at the time used to throw an annual Christmas lunch, so this was going to be the one time that he'd be staying late and I'd be coming in early, so I was like "This is your chance, let's see what this dude's all about!"

I went out of my way to sit or stand next to him the entire party and chatted his ear off. (Side note: The funny thing about me is I'm normally shy and quiet as a mouse, but if I'm excited about something or there's something I want, I can be LOUD and FORWARD lol) I liked him right away but I wasn't sure what he thought about me (turns out he's more shy than me).

I ended up going to a coworker's party not long after that and saw that Ryan was at this party too, so again I went out of my way to talk to him and asked him for his contact info. I didn't want to overwhelm him in person because I was realizing just HOW QUIET AND SHY he was, so I waited until after the party (I think it was the next day?) to text him and ask him out on a date. Luckily he said yes!

Here's another fun little detail for you! After I asked him out but before our first date, our department had a White Elephant gift exchange. Ryan knew I liked Sonic (my desk decorations and my Christmas sweater made it clear as day), so the gift he brought for the exchange was a pair of Sonic earbuds and some Mario toys. At the time he of course didn't say he got it 'for' me, but in that moment it was very clear to me that 'Oh, this guy is something special."

[chelseachilly]

when i'm feeling alone, you remind me of home

pairing: reader x ben chilwell summary: you're stranded at uni by yourself for christmas with no flights going to london, but your boyfriend has other ideas warnings: nothing but fluff ❄️🫶🏼 word count: 2.5k

author’s note: here's another holiday one-shot! hoping to write at least one more before christmas. also btw there is no regard for the actual chelsea december fixtures or club rules in this story lol. title from christmas tree farm by taylor 🎄

-

You’ve always loved snow.

You loved playing in it as a little kid, making snowmen with your parents and going sledding with friends. You loved watching it from your window your first year of uni, seeing the blanket of white make Edinburgh look even more magical. You love bundling up to go ice skating and drinking hot chocolate as the snow falls around you.

But right now, you absolutely hate it. 

A massive snowstorm rolling through the UK has caused the cancellation all flights, including the one you were supposed to take from Edinburgh to London tonight. It’s your last year of university there, but you’ve never missed a Christmas at home with your family and your boyfriend.

Now, it’s two days until Christmas and you’re stranded alone in your little flat with absolutely no way of making it home.

“What? You can’t get a train?” Ben asks after you’ve explained your predicament to him sadly. 

As much as you feel bad about missing the holiday with your parents, you feel really bad about not being able to see Ben. With your busy schedules, you’ve hardly seen him in months, and you even missed his birthday a couple days ago because you had an exam. Now, you were supposed to finally have an entire week with him in London. 

You were going to go to Winter Wonderland and complain about tourists and end up going back to his to snuggle by the fireplace. You were going to have Christmas morning with your family and dinner with his, spending the whole day exchanging gifts and fond memories. You were going to watch his game on the 27th and bundle up in your warmest Chelsea gear to cheer your heart out for your man, which you’ve really missed doing lately. 

You miss everything about him, really. 

But instead, you’re going to be eating Indian takeaway leftovers and watching Love Actually to try to make yourself feel better.

“The trains are all full, I checked,” you sigh. 

“Well, let me see if I can charter a plane-“

“Ben,” you cut him off before he gets ahead of myself. Although it’s quite extravagant for him to spend tens of thousands of dollars getting you there, you know he would do it in a heartbeat. “All flights are grounded, not just mine. It’s not possible.”

“But…there must be something.”

You can picture his disappointed face right now, and it brings tears to your eyes just thinking about it. 

“I’m so sorry, baby,” you reply, sinking into your couch. “You know I would do anything to be there with you right now.”

“Don’t apologize to me, love, I can’t believe you’re going to spend Christmas alone,” Ben sighs. “This is so shit. I just wanna see you and hold you.”

“I know,” you exhale. “I miss you so much. The only thing that got me through exams was thinking about being home with you and playing with Oscar in the snow and baking cookies…”

You can feel yourself getting choked up, tears beginning to stream down your cheeks as you think about all you’ll be missing out on. You feel a bit silly, knowing there are people with far bigger problems in the world, but you’ve been working yourself to death for the past month to ace your finals and this trip home was the shining light at the end of the tunnel. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Ben says sadly. “I miss you so much too. I wish there was something we could do.”

“Like control the weather?” you joke, trying to lighten the mood despite the tears running down your face.

“You know I would do it if I could,” he replies seriously. “I’m sorry this is happening, babe. Maybe the weather will clear up in a day or two and you’ll still be able to make it out for a few days, yeah?”

“Yeah, I suppose,” you breathe - some time with Ben and your family is better than nothing, but you’re still going to be alone for Christmas morning. “I should let you go, I don’t want to stop you from having a nice holiday too. Say hi to your mum and Alex for me when they get there, alright?”

“I will, baby,” Ben says. “I’ll text you later and call you in the morning, alright?”

“Alright,” you sniffle, wiping your tears away. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Bye, love.”

The moment Ben hangs up, you toss your cell onto the cushion beside you and bury your face in the pillow, groaning in frustration. 

After feeling sorry for yourself for a bit, you reluctantly get up and go to turn up the heat and change into something warmer, as the temperatures outside continue to drop. You grab Ben’s hoodie from your closet, a cozy grey one you stole last time you were in London. It barely smells like him anymore, since that was over a month ago and you’ve worn and washed it several times, but it’s still a small comfort to wear something of his.

You heat up your dinner and put on the film, although the romantic scenes and the shots of London only seem to make you more homesick. 

You text Ben during his favourite part, which is naturally Hugh Grant dancing around 10 Downing Street. 

The annual Love Actually rewatch isn’t the same without you babe. Hope you’re having fun with the fam ❤️

He takes a while to respond, which you hope means he’s having a better time than you are and enjoying being with his family. 

You’re just drifting off to sleep when his text finally comes in.

It’s not the same here without you either. Goodnight baby, talk in the morning 😘

-

You wake up to the sound of your phone ringing.

You briefly think it’s your alarm, but you don’t remember setting one, certainly not for 7AM, which is the current time according to your watch.

You blearily stretch your arms, a bit of a crick in your neck from falling asleep on the couch, and reach around haphazardly for your phone.

You see Ben’s name and contact photo on the screen and you quickly answer, worried something is wrong if he’s calling you at this time. 

“Ben? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” he assures you. “Can you go downstairs? There’s a delivery for you.”

“What?” you yawn, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “What on earth have you sent me at seven in the morning?”

“Just go check, I think you’ll like it,” Ben promises, and you can hear the smile tugging at his lips. “Quickly, babe. This is time sensitive.”

You roll your eyes fondly as you throw the blanket off yourself and slide on your slippers, leaving the warmth of your flat to go down the stairs and see what’s waiting for you outside the main doors. You can only imagine what ridiculous present your boyfriend had shipped to you overnight to try to make up for your failed Christmas. 

You tighten Ben’s hoodie around your body to brace yourself for the cold before opening the door, your eyes on the ground where you’re expecting the package to be.

Instead, you see a familiar pair of Nikes - and your eyes trail up to see the very familiar man wearing them. 

You’re not sure if you’re dreaming, so you blink a few times, only to be greeted with the same sight - your perfect, adorable boyfriend standing in front of you in his puffer jacket and hat, his cheeks red from the cold and his smile absolutely blinding. 

“Ben?” you gasp. “Why are you - how are you here?”

“I couldn’t let you spend Christmas alone.”

You meet him halfway as he drops his bags to the ground and opens his arms for you to throw yourself at him. You hug him as tight as you can, burying your nose in his neck and inhaling his scent. You can’t believe this is really happening.

“How the hell did you get here?” you ask as he squeezes your waist tightly and kisses the top of your head. 

“I drove,” Ben murmurs. 

You pull back to look at him, your eyes wide with disbelief.

“You drove? It’s, like, eight hours-“

“Twelve in a snowstorm, apparently,” Ben chuckles. “But definitely worth it for this.”

“You drove all night through a snowstorm for me?”

You can feel tears beginning to brim in your eyes once again, though these are tears of joy. You can’t believe how insanely lucky you are to have a man who loves you this much. 

“Of course I did, I would do anything for you,” Ben says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, brushing his nose against yours. “Now, if you don’t mind, it’s been a long night and I would really love a kiss.”

Without hesitation, you grab his face and kiss him passionately, sighing with joy at the feeling of being reunited with your boyfriend. You’re certain that this is the most romantic and wonderful thing anyone has ever done for you, and although you never expected the best kiss of your life to happen on your doorstep at 7am in a blizzard, this just might take the top spot.

“I love you so damn much,” you whisper against his lips when you finally pull away. “But I am also slightly mad at you for driving at night in poor conditions.”

Ben laughs and rolls his eyes a bit. “I promise I was safe, but can we go inside where it’s warmer before we argue about it?”

“Hmm, okay,” you grin, pecking his lips a few more times before helping him lug his bags up the stairs to your flat.

Once you’re inside and Ben’s taken off his shoes and coat, you waste no time in wrapping your arms around him and kissing him again. 

“You’re freezing, sweetheart,” you murmur as his cold hands slide under your - his - hoodie to feel your skin. “Want a tea? Or do you want to go straight to bed? You must be exhausted.”

“A tea and a cuddle would be perfect,” Ben smiles, pecking your forehead.

You tell him to go get comfy on the couch while you make tea for both of you, and when you return, he’s waiting for you with open arms and a sleepy grin on his face. 

You place both mugs on the coffee table and curl up next to him, your face in the crook of his neck and your arms and legs tangled. 

You let out a content sigh as your bodies recalibrate after so much time apart. You knew you needed this, but you didn’t know quite how much until right now. 

“I can’t believe you’re here,” you murmur, kissing his jaw. “What about your mum and Alex, though?”

“I told them how sad you sounded on the phone and they encouraged me to go, though my mum was slightly nervous about me making the drive-“

“As she should be,” you scold gently.

“I told you, I was very careful, and there were hardly any cars on the roads,” Ben promises once again. “Anyways, they were all for it. They knew I would’ve been miserable without you there.”

You hug him a bit tighter, hooking your leg around his. “Wait, you have a game in three days. Did the club really sign off on this?”

“I managed to persuade Poch to give me today off to go see my girl, I think he’s a bit of a softie at heart,” Ben jokes. “And we have tomorrow and the day after off for Christmas anyways. We’ll just have to drive back on the 26th, the roads are supposed to clear by then. I know it’s not the same as Christmas in London with both our families, but this is better than being apart, right?”

“Ben,” you say sincerely, cupping his cheek with one hand. “This is the most amazing thing anyone has ever done for me. A cozy Christmas with just the two of us sounds absolutely perfect. Thank you, baby.”

Your lips meet in another sweet kiss, one that quickly escalates as you feel your boyfriend’s hands on your hips and thighs for the first time in a month. You moan into his mouth as he tugs you into his lap. 

“I missed you so much,” you breathe between kisses, tugging his hat off to run your hands through his messy hair. 

“I can tell, hoodie thief,” Ben teases, fiddling with the soft material. “You look unreal in that, by the way. And I missed you more.”

You smile into another kiss, getting completely lost in him and his scent and his touch. Even after years together, you’re completely addicted to him. 

You’re ready to take it further and move to your bedroom, but you’re interrupted by a yawn from Ben. He tries to kiss you again afterward, but you laugh softly and hold his face. 

“You need sleep, Benjamin.”

He pouts slightly in protest, but you kiss him again quickly and it goes away.

“Babe, you’re exhausted,” you murmur softly. “We can go cuddle in my bed and continue this later.”

Ben sighs and nods as you climb off him and extend your hand to help him up. He doesn’t let go of your hand, though, instead pulling you into another warm hug. He’s so sleepy and adorable that you could nearly cry as he nuzzles his face into your hair. 

He’s always been a very tactile person, and you know that for every time you tell him how much you missed and love him, he will hold you a little bit longer or kiss your forehead to say the exact same thing.

When you finally pull apart, you take him by the hand and lead him into your bedroom. He strips down to his boxers, which is how he prefers to sleep even in the dead of winter. He says you run hot enough to keep him warm, though you’re not sure if that’s true or he just likes to maximize your skin-on-skin contact.

He’s much warmer now than when you found him on your doorstep, so it’s not a shock to your system when you climb into bed with him and he immediately pulls you into his chest.

“I promise once you’ve had a proper rest I’ll make the drive worth your while, baby,” you say with a slight smirk as you wrap your arm around him and nuzzle your face into his neck. 

Ben just tightens his grip on you and closes his eyes, a content smile on his face. 

“It was worth it the second you opened the door.”

As you watch your boyfriend drift off to sleep, feeling so full of love for him that you might burst, you make a mental note to make it extra worth it for him later just for that adorable comment. 

After you’ve both slept a few hours and spent another few making up for lost time, you spend the rest of Christmas Eve watching films and baking cookies. 

The next morning, you both wake up early and exchange presents in your festive pyjamas. It’s not the same as if you were in London with both your families, but it’s still perfect because you’re together. 

And a year later, when you’ve graduated and you’re celebrating your first Christmas in your new home with a diamond ring on your finger, it’s even better. 

i hope you enjoyed this story! and thank you for all your lovely comments on my last fic. if anyone wants to be added to a taglist for my ben fics in the future, please let me know! ❤️💚