#they live in an apartment on the second floor

[rmview]

they beg to be taken back, SKZ.

featuring — stray kids members x gn!reader ( masterlist )

summary — a reaction of how the stray kids boys realize they can’t live without you, and come to beg you for a second chance!

contents — angst, mentions of fights, possible reconciliation.

bang ♢ chan

bang chan had always been composed, the leader who held everyone together. but when you broke up with him, the cracks in his armor showed. he respected your decision and convinced himself that it was for the best, despite the emptiness growing unbearable.

he wasn’t himself since and the people around him began to notice. the usual spark in his eyes dimmed, and the weight of your absence felt suffocating. he replayed the last argument over and over in his head, agonizing over what he could’ve done differently. but as much as he respected your decision, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed to try, just one more time, to fight for what you both had.

it was late when he showed up at your doorstep, his hand hovering over the doorbell. when you answered, you were more than surprised to see him standing there, his shoulders slightly hunched as if he was carrying the weight of the world. his hair was disheveled, eyes rimmed red. he looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

“chan? what are you doing here?” the nickname slipped from your lips almost too easily and you suppressed the urge to recoil. being around him — being his, was too easy. even with the two months apart, one look into his eyes was all it took for everything to come rushing back.

“i… i needed to see you,” he said, his voice trembling slightly and his australian accent slightly thicker, which was a sign of his nervousness. “i know you said that it’s over, but i can’t accept it — not without trying to make things right.”

you felt something in your chest lurch, and for a few moments you were rendered speechless. a large part of you wanted to forget the fight and what lead up to it, but the smaller part of you kept reminding you of how alone he made you feel despite being together. “we’ve already talked about this. you need to let me go. i... i don’t want to go back to feeling the way i did.”

he shook his head, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. “i can’t just let you go,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “i know i messed up. i wasn’t there for you when you needed me most, i treated you like another responsibility, and i hate myself for it. but please, give me a chance to prove that i can do better. i can’t lose you like this.”

“chan…” you looked away, your heart breaking at the vulnerability in his voice. your own eyes blurred with tears and you tried to blink them away.

“i know i’m asking a lot,” he continued, taking a tentative step closer. his hands itched with the need to reach out for your waist; the feeling of your skin under his palms a muscle memory. “but i love you. i love you more than anything, and i can’t imagine my life without you in it. tell me what i need to do, and i’ll do it. just… don’t give up on us.”

his desperation was raw and unfiltered, and it was clear that he’d spent every waking moment thinking about this moment. whether you took him back or not, he was determined to fight for you until the very end.

felix ♢

felix was a wreck after the breakup. the ever-present sunshine in his personality dimmed, replaced by a quiet sadness that the others noticed but didn’t know how to fix. he replayed the moments leading up to your decision endlessly, wondering where he went wrong. no matter how hard he tried to respect your choice and acknowledge his mistakes, his heart refused to let it go.

one rainy evening, he found himself standing in the reception office of your workplace while soaked to the bone. he didn’t care that the receptionist was eyeing him in annoyance for dripping on the floors, or that he looked homeless from his red-rimmed eyes and masked face. when you finally made your way down after a call from your superiors, you were shocked.

“felix? what the hell?” you whisper-yelled, your voice laced with concern despite the shock as you grasped his arms to lead him to the bathrooms instead of the ac-blasting reception so he wouldn’t get sick.

“i had to see you,” he said, his voice trembling. both from the cold and his overwhelming feelings. “i couldn’t just… let it end like that.”

you sighed, grasping his freezing hands in yours and holding it under the hot air of the hand drier, not caring that you were in the men’s room. felix couldn’t care less either as he momentarily basked in the feeling of your soft hands in his after so long. “i know i hurt you, and i hate myself for it. but i can’t let you go without telling you how much you mean to me.”

“and you thought this was the smartest way to do it? by getting yourself sick?” you shook your head, trying to keep your emotions in check. he broke your heart, you tried to remind yourself to keep yourself steely. it didn’t work.

“i know i made mistakes,” he continued, his voice breaking as he sniffled and you avoided his gaze and chalked it up to the cold. “i wasn’t there for you the way i should have been. but you… you’re everything to me. you’re the reason i smile, the reason i wake up in the morning. please, tell me how to fix this.”

his vulnerability was heart-wrenching and you felt your own eyes blur through your silence. felix didn’t look away from you the entire time, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “i’ll do anything, anything to make things right. just… don’t walk away from me. from us.”

as the rain continued to pour outside, felix stood there, baring his soul to you. he wasn’t just asking for forgiveness — he was offering every piece of himself, hoping it would be enough to convince you to take him back.

lee ♢ know

lee know was stubborn by nature, and after the breakup, he tried to convince himself he didn’t need anyone. he put on a brave face around the others, burying himself in practice and work. taking on excess time to keep his mind off you worked for a while, but even then every time he went home to the empty silence of his apartment, your absence hit him like a freight train.

his members began to notice his stubbornness and attempt to dismiss your relationship, giving him the space he needed as they hoped he’d work through it. but it began to become clear he was taking the ostrich’s way out — burying his head in the sand and pretending everything was fine.

it took weeks for him to swallow his pride and realize he didn’t want to deal with the emptiness anymore. the fight was so stupid and you were the love of his life, so why weren’t you together right now?

he wasn’t one to beg, but losing you was something he slowly realized he couldn’t bear. and so one evening after heavy contemplation, he found himself standing outside your apartment door, clutching his phone in one hand and a small bouquet of your favorite flowers in the other.

when you opened the door, you paused and your eyes widened in surprise. your treacherous heart missed a beat and you attempted to school your expression to normal. “minho? what are you doing here?”

“i, uh, i needed to see you,” he said, his usual cool demeanor replaced with a hesitance you rarely saw.

your mind flashed with the hurtful words he threw at you during the argument and you crossed your arms, leaning against the doorframe. “i thought we agreed that separating was for the best.”

“maybe i thought so at first,” he admitted, his voice soft but firm. “but i don’t think i can do this anymore. i can’t pretend that i’m okay being without you because i’m not.”

“minho…” you started, looking away as you didn’t know what to say.

“i know i don’t say it enough,” he interrupted, his gaze dropping to the ground. “but i love you. i loved you then, and i love you now. and i hate that i let you go without fighting for you. i hate that i was so stupid.”

“you hurt me,” you said, a slight wobble in your voice that you attempted to mask with by clearing your throat softly. but the hurt in your eyes was hard to miss. “i can’t just forget that.”

“i know,” he said, stepping closer. he put the flowers down on the floor by your feet as he took your hands in his, his palms warm. “and i don’t expect you to. but i want to make it up to you. i’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust again. because i mean it when i say i won’t make the same mistakes again.”

he squeezed your palms softly, bringing your fingers up to his lips. “i know i’m not the best at showing how much you mean to me. but you do — more than anything. and if there’s even the smallest part of you that still feels the same way, please… give me another chance.”

it wasn’t easy for lee know to open up like this, but the thought of losing you for good outweighed his fear of vulnerability and hesitance. whether or not you decided to take him back, he was determined to show you just how much you meant to him.

hyun ♢ jin

hyunjin wasn’t one to wear his heart on his sleeve, but the breakup managed to shatter the carefully built walls around his emotions. he threw himself into his art and practice, hoping it would drown out the ache in his chest. but no matter how many brushstrokes he painted or routines he perfected, nothing could fill the void you’d left behind.

while hoping to take a walk on evening , hyunjin mindlessly ended up walking into your favorite park, the place where you’d spent countless nights talking about dreams and fears. as usual, you were there sitting on the same bench you’d share, a book on your lap but your mind and gaze were elsewhere.

hyunjin stood there for a few moments, unable to look away until your wandering gaze settled on him. you paused, startled to see him there, his usually confident posture replaced by a tentative nervousness as he slowly walked to you.

“hyunjin?” you looked up at him, unsure if you should address him in public since your relationship was over. he was dressed in black, a mask covering the bottom half of his face, but you recognized him immediately.

he hesitated for aa moment before he sat down beside you, a small bittersweet smile tugging at his lips even though you couldn’t see it. “i wasn’t sure you’d be here,” he admitted.

“i didn’t know you’d be here either,” you replied cautiously, fidgeting with your book in your lap. would you have come if you knew? maybe, maybe not.

he took a deep breath, his gaze locking onto you even though you wouldn’t look back at him. “i just... i needed to see you. i can’t keep pretending i’m okay with this when i’m not.”

“hyunjin, we’ve already talked about this…”

“i know,” he interrupted, his voice heavy with emotion. “but i can’t let it end like this. i know i hurt you really bad, and i hate myself for it every day. i thought i was protecting you from this life and me, but all i did was push you away.”

your fingers softly tightened around the book, trying to calm yourself against the raw emotion in his voice. “it’s not that simple.”

“i know it’s not,” he said, scooting slightly closer. he couldn’t take his eyes off you. you were so pretty. “but i love you. i’ve always loved you, even when i was too scared to show it. and if there’s even a small part of you that still cares about me and what we had, then please… let me try to fix this.”

his voice broke as he added, “i’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if i have to. just… don’t give up on us. not yet.”

you finally looked up at him and your breath hitched at the proximity. the vulnerability in hyunjin’s eyes was almost too much for you to bear. he wasn’t just asking for forgiveness — he was offering every piece of himself, hoping it would be enough to convince you to give him one last chance. he wouldn’t lose you again.

i.n ♢

jeongin had never experienced heartbreak like this before. the breakup ended up hitting him harder than he ever thought possible. he spent days replaying the fight you both had in his head, wondering how he could’ve done things differently. his hyungs tried their best to cheer him up, but their efforts only seemed to highlight the emptiness he felt without you.

you were his first relationship, his first kiss, his first love and the woman he thought he’d marry some day. he’d questioned his success as an idol, he’d question his talents — but the lifetime of your relationship was one thing he never had to question. so to have that one dream shattered was more than the average heartbreak. jeongin would probably never date again.

only nine days had passed since you left, and after those 200 hours, jeongin couldn’t take it anymore. he knew your schedule in and out, and he knew exactly where you’d be on a weekend evening at 5.

he showed up at your favorite café, the place where you’d spent countless afternoons together and took a seat at the very booth you’d always sit at, counting down the minutes to when you’ll show up.

so when you walked in and spotted him sitting at your usual table, his nervous smile and the familiar warmth in his eyes caught you off guard.

“jeongin?” you asked cautiously as you approached, looking around the almost empty area. “what are you doing here?”

he stood up quickly, his hands fidgeting as he spoke, wanting to reach out to you. “hi. i… i wasn’t sure if you’d come here today, but i had to take the chance.”

you hesitated, unsure of what to say. it had barely been over a week since your breakup. “what do you want?”

“i want to apologize,” he said earnestly, his voice quiet but steady. he had already made up his mind. “and to ask for another chance.”

“jeongin, we already talked about this,” you replied, shaking your head softly. the argument was still fresh in your mind and you didn’t plan to give in anytime soon. yet one look into his puppy-like eyes was all it took. damn.

“i know that,” he said quickly, his words tumbling out in a rush. “but i can’t just let it end the way it did. i know i hurt you, and i know i wasn’t the boyfriend you deserved, but i want to make it right. i need to make it right.”

you sighed, hesitantly sitting down across from him. “it’s not that easy.”

“i know it’s not,” jeongin said, his gaze earnest. he was not going to leave without you. “but i love you. and i’ll do whatever it takes to prove that to you. i’ve been thinking about everything i did wrong, and i promise, i’ll be better. just… don’t shut me out completely. you don’t have to take me back now, but know i’m not going to let this be the end of us.”

his voice softened as he added, “i know i’m asking for a lot, but please… let me show you how much you mean to me. even if it seems a little too late.”

you found yourself softening against your will. jeongin’s sincerity was palpable, and the quiet determination in his eyes made it clear that he wasn’t giving up on you. whether or not you decided to take him back, he was willing to do whatever it took to make amends.

han ♢

han had always been known for his bright energy, and the way he could light up a room with his laughter. but ever since the breakup, his spark was gone and it became glaringly obvious. the jokes came less frequently, and the music he created sounded hollow, even to him. he missed you, missed the comfort of your presence and the way you always seemed to understand him when no one else could.

his group members had tried to give him the time and space he needed, since your relationship was long-term and impactful. you had been by han’s side since before stray kids, and the loss of your presence in his life was something all 7 of them combined couldn’t match up to.

the moment han decided he couldn’t stay away any longer, he abandoned the practice session and rushed straight to your place without even thinking it through. the journey was a blur and his body ran on instinct until he was standing outside your door.

his hands fidgeted with the hem of his hoodie as he rehearsed what he wanted to say for a few minutes before knocking once he was semi-confident of what to say and had plastered a small nervous smile on his lips.

when you opened the door, his smile faltered at the sight of you. “hey,” he said softly, his voice tinged with hesitance, looking over the sight of you in your pajamas.

“han? what are you doing here?” you paused in shock, not expecting his presence out of all things.

“i… i couldn’t stay away,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to the ground. he forgot what he planned to say. “i know i don’t have any right to be here after what happened and what i said, but i needed to talk to you.”

you looked over his sweaty and disheveled appearance as if he ran here, and crossed your arms, looking away. “we already talked, han. what’s left to say?”

“a lot,” he said quickly, his voice trembling slightly — from being out of breath, or from the prospect of losing you, he wasn’t sure. “i know i messed up real bad. i know i didn’t always handle things the way i should’ve, but i can’t —” he paused, swallowing hard. “i can’t lose you.”

you sighed, trying to keep your composure. you knew his words were true. “you realize that now? after all that was said and done?”

“i know what i said,” he said, stepping closer. “but i need you to know how sorry i am. i didn’t realize how much i was taking you for granted until you were gone. and now… now i feel like i’m missing a part of myself. you, and what we had, none of that can ever be replaced. you were the one, and i was so stupid for letting you go like that.”

“han…”

“i’m not asking you to forgive me right now,” he continued, his voice cracking. “but i just want one chance to show you that i can be better. please, just give me that chance. i won’t screw up again.”

his vulnerability was raw and unguarded, and the tears welling up in his eyes mirrored the ache in your chest. his presence only made you realize what you were missing. han wasn’t one to beg, but for you, he’d put his pride aside if it meant that he could win you back.

seung ♢ min

seungmin prided himself on his ability to stay composed, but the breakup had shaken him to his core. he replayed your last conversation over and over, analyzing every word, every tone, trying to figure out where he’d gone wrong. the silence in his life without you was deafening, and no amount of logic could convince his heart to move on.

he knew he had no right to approach you or ask for forgiveness after his neglect, but damn was it hard to get past your absence in his daily life. meals, practice and sleeping alone felt void — like a puzzle piece was missing, leaving the actions feeling inadequate.

it took him a month to realize he couldn’t go on without you, weeks to decide how he was going to approach you, and another handful of days to work up the courage and find himself standing outside your door. his heart was pounding in his chest and his hands felt sweaty.

when you opened your front door, you were startled to see seungmin there, his usual calm demeanor replaced with an uncharacteristic hesitance and unease. “seungmin? what are you doing here?”

“i…” he hesitated, his eyes dropping to the floor as he suddenly felt a wave of unpreparedness. “i needed to talk to you.”

you were surprised but crossed your arms and kept your expression guarded, equally as hesitant. “we’ve already said everything that needed to be said. why now?”

“no,” he said firmly, meeting your gaze. a troubled look in his eyes. seungmin wasn’t sure if he felt like crying, or throwing up. “i didn’t say enough. i didn’t fight for you the way i should have, and i can’t let it end like this.”

“seungmin…” you frowned softly

“i know i made mistakes,” he interrupted, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “i know i wasn’t always there for you the way i should’ve been. but i love you. and i can’t just let you walk away without trying to make things right.”

you sighed, looking away. “it’s not that simple. you hurt me.”

“i know,” he said, his voice softening. “and i hate myself for it. but i want to make it up to you. i’ll do whatever it takes, no matter how long it takes. i just need you to give me a chance.”

when you didn’t respond immediately, he took a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly. “i’m not asking you to forget everything. i’m just asking for the chance to prove that i can be better—that i can be the person you deserve.”

the quiet determination in his voice was unlike anything you’d heard from him before. it was clear that seungmin wasn’t just asking for forgiveness—he was willing to fight for you, no matter how long it took.

chang ♢ bin

changbin wasn’t used to feeling helpless, but after the breakup, he felt like his world had been turned upside down. he threw himself into his music, trying to channel his emotions into lyrics, but even that didn’t offer the relief he was hoping for. the studio felt empty without you. his group mates tried to cheer him up, but nothing could replace your touch, the sound of your laugh or the way you’d encourage him after a long day.

it didn’t take long before he realized he couldn’t let you go. your presence couldn’t be replaced by practice or writing, and every heart wrenching feeling being poured into his file of unreleased songs. it had reached a point where he had gotten tired of the separation and ended up impulsively making his way to your apartment one evening.

changbin’s heart was pounding as he worked up the courage to knock, freezing in surprise when you suddenly opened the door in that purple shirt of yours that you always wore to grocery shop. he stared at you quietly for a few moments, watching how your expression shifted from surprise to guardedness.

“changbin? what are you doing here?” you spoke softly, your gaze flickering around the hall to make sure no neighbor was out.

he hesitated, feeling extremely unprepared despite replaying the conversation in his mind the whole ride here, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “i just needed to see you,” he said, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

“bin, we’ve already talked about this,” you began the nickname slipping too easily, but he shook his head.

“no, i need you to listen,” he said, his voice firm but he had to clear his throat to stay composed. “i know i messed up. really bad. i know i didn’t always handle things the way i should’ve, but i can’t lose you. i don’t know how to be without you.”

you sighed, fidgeting slightly as you looked over his disheveled hair and troubled expression. he wouldn’t meet your eyes either. “it’s not that simple, changbin. you can’t just show up after what happened and expect everything to be okay.”

“i know that,” he said, his dark eyes pleading as he ran his palm over his face. he wasn’t one to beg but if he left this without knowing you were his again, he didn’t know what he’d do. “but i’m willing to do whatever it takes to fix this. i’ll change. i’ll be better. just tell me what you need, and i’ll make it happen.”

you looked away, trying to maintain your resolve, but his words slowly chipped away at your defenses. he was the best you’d ever had, until he wasn’t. “why now, changbin? why couldn’t you do this before and how am i supposed to believe you’ve changed?”

“because i was scared,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, looking up at you as he reached out to grasp your hands in his. “i was scared of failing you, or of not being enough. but i realized i’m more scared of losing you forever. i wouldn’t be able to bear that.”

his voice trembled and he nearly found himself in tears, leaning his forehead against yours. “please, give me another chance. let me prove that i can be the person you deserve.”

notes: something about writing sad shit and horny shit really makes me tingle. anybody interested in an individual smut fic?

[amourrs]

bachelor!abby who’s positively gleeful the first time she gets you back to her penthouse, trying not to trip over her shoes as she stumbles through the door with you in tow and practically drags you to her bedroom. you’re beautiful in your long black sheath dress, but even more so when you step out of it, fabric pooling on the floor along with abby’s jaw. she tries not to stare, but she can’t help herself, eyes skimming your figure as she tries not to cry at the reincarnation of venus being in her fucking bedroom. you’re on the bed and for a second it almost feels as if you belong here, like you could live in her apartment with her forever and maybe take her last name whilst you’re at it—and fuck, she’s not normally one to be this sentimental about the girls she fools around with, but is it her fault your heels look so perfect at the foot of her bed? it doesn’t take her long to get distracted from the domestic thoughts though, fingers scrambling to unhook your bra (red, just like the soles of your shoes, she vaguely registers) as her teeth graze the top of your breasts, hand coming up to grope at them as she tries not to stare. briefly she wonders if you’d let her do a line off your tit, maybe chase it with a body shot, but she tamps the thought down in her mind and stores it for a later date. right now, she’s not convinced you’re not going to walk out the door and so she leaves a trail of sloppy, open mouthed kisses down your stomach and snags your underwear in her teeth in a desperate attempt to keep you here via the art of seduction. it seems to work because you moan a little, swallowing the sound lest it inflates her ego a little too much as she drags dark lace down your legs and buries her face between them. your hands wind onto her hair and tug as her tongue laves over your clit and she groans so hard you can feel the vibration against you. what she lacks in finesse she makes up for in enthusiasm, pausing to nip at your thigh and leave the indents of her teeth before returning her attentions back to you, practically purring as your hands dig further into her dirty blonde tresses. you don’t let her relish in it for long though, eyes rolling as you pull at her locks, voice dripping with condescension. “that seriously the best you got? c’mon, i could get better from some guy behind a strip mall—” abby cuts you off with a slap to your clit, light enough that you don’t scream out but hard enough to sting, moaning as you writhe beneath her. “where are your manners?” she chides, eyes glinting as her breath fans hot over your cunt and you squirm a little, desperate to have her mouth back on you. “didn’t your mother ever teach you not to insult the host?” she tuts before sliding two fingers into you, tongue tracing circles on your clit as you sob, hips canting up to meet her as she crooks her digits inside of you and you yelp out an apology. “yeah, yeah. thought so. now stay still or i’m gonna walk out of here and leave you like this.”

[woso-story]

2 Much

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Based on the song '2 Much' by Justin Bieber

Alexia lay on her side, propped up on one elbow, staring at you beside her. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the early morning sun sneaking through the curtains, casting a golden hue over your sleeping face. Your hair was tousled across the pillow, your chest rising and falling in steady rhythm, completely at peace. Alexia’s heart swelled, and she couldn’t help but smile. How could someone so perfect be lying here, in her bed, in her life?

She reached out and gently brushed a stray lock of hair from your face, careful not to wake you. Her fingers lingered for a moment, grazing the soft skin of your cheek. She often found herself wondering how she got so lucky, but mornings like this hit her harder than usual. Watching you sleep, so unguarded and serene, felt like a privilege—a glimpse into the purest part of you.

Alexia’s mind drifted, unbidden, to one of her favorite memories. You were out with her teammates, laughter and music filling the air, the kind of night that felt infinite. You had been on the dance floor, hair down, moving with an ease and freedom that seemed to defy the chaos around you. Alexia had been rooted to the spot, utterly mesmerized. She’d forgotten to blink, let alone breathe, because in that moment, she knew: This is it. This is where I’m supposed to be.

Her heart raced just thinking about it, even now. The way you lived your life—with so much love, so much care—astounded her. Whether it was your family, your friends, or the weight of your demanding schedules, you somehow carried it all with grace. Yet, you always made time for her. It was as if you had a way of stopping the world, just for her, even when it felt like it was spinning out of control.

Alexia looked at you again, taking in the delicate curve of your jawline, the slight upward twitch of your lips, even in sleep. She thought about the first time you met—really met—and how she didn’t realize at the time she was meeting the biggest blessing of her life. All those nights spent praying for a love like this, and now here you were. God really had done something extraordinary.

She thought about how often she told you, “I love you,” over and over again, probably too much for you to fully process. But she couldn’t help it. Every time she said it, it felt like the first time, and it was never enough to capture how she truly felt. Every syllable of your name was music to her ears, a melody she could play on repeat forever.

And those nights—those quiet, intimate nights—when your head was resting on her chest, the sun already peeking over the horizon. Alexia could never bring herself to sleep. She didn’t want to miss a single second of this—of you. She would rather fall in love over and over again than waste even a moment in unconsciousness. When you weren’t near, it felt like something essential had been taken from her, as though two seconds apart stretched into two unbearable months.

She sighed softly, leaning down to press the gentlest kiss to your temple. Even eternity wouldn’t be enough, she realized. If she had every day, every hour, every second with you, it still wouldn’t feel like enough time to show you how much you were loved.

You stirred slightly at the touch, your lips parting as you let out a small sigh but didn’t wake. Alexia smiled, her heart aching in the best way. I don’t want to miss this, she thought, letting her fingers trace invisible patterns on the sheets. I don’t want to miss a single moment of loving you.

Alexia settled back down, her head close to yours, her eyes never leaving your face. She whispered into the stillness of the room, words just for you:

“You are my everything.”

[imreidswifey]

Paint-Stained Promises -Fluff-

Spencer Reid x Artist!Reader

Credit to @drowning-rabbit their head-cannons was the only thing that made this possible!Please go follow and like their posts!

Summary: Dr. Spencer Reid never expected to find love amidst the chaos of profiling criminals and chasing shadows. But when he meets you, a free-spirited painter with a penchant for covering yourself—and your apartment—in splashes of color, his life begins to shift in ways he never imagined. From quiet evenings spent as your muse to secret notes tucked into his lunch bag, Spencer discovers a kind of intimacy and joy that feels as brilliant and messy as your art.

Warnings:

Fluff Overload: This story is heavy on romance, intimate moments, and playful teasing.

Mild Embarrassment: Expect Spencer to be adorably awkward and flustered in social situations.

Team Banter: Includes friendly teasing, nosy colleagues, and found-family dynamics.

Themes of Vulnerability: Emotional intimacy and personal growth are central to the story.

Mentions of Profiler Work: While the story focuses on romance, it references Spencer’s work with the BAU, which involves criminal profiling (no graphic details).

Reader Discretion: Ideal for fans of soft, romantic fanfiction and anyone who loves a good balance of humor, love, and heartwarming moments.

———————————————————————————-

The late afternoon sun slants through the blinds, casting soft, golden streaks across the room. You’re perched cross-legged on the floor in front of your easel, a brush tucked behind your ear and smudges of cerulean and ochre streaking your hands and cheeks. The smell of turpentine and acrylic paint mingles with the faint scent of lavender from the candle flickering on the windowsill.

Every piece of furniture within paint-splash radius has been meticulously wrapped in cling film. Your living room looks like a scene from a crime drama—a precautionary measure after the last time you accidentally turned the couch into a canvas.

The familiar jingle of keys in the lock pulls your attention.

“Spencer!” you call out, not looking away from your painting. “Be careful where you step! It’s chaos in here!”

“I noticed,” he says, stepping inside. His voice, soft and amused, makes your chest flutter.

You glance over your shoulder to find him standing in the doorway, his bag slung over one shoulder, a crooked grin tugging at his lips. His sweater vest is slightly askew, and his hair, as always, has that artful messiness to it that makes your fingers itch to sketch him.

He sets his bag down, tilting his head as he takes in the scene. “I assume the cling film is for… protection?”

“Exactly,” you reply, gesturing with your brush. “I’m not cleaning paint off the sofa again. And before you ask—yes, I learned my lesson last time.”

His laughter, soft and genuine, fills the space between you. He crosses the room, carefully stepping over paint tubes and discarded sketches, and leans down to press a kiss to your temple.

“Missed you,” he murmurs.

You smile, the warmth of his presence already sinking into your skin. “Missed you too. But hold that thought—I need you to sit still for me.”

Spencer raises a brow. “Sit still?”

“Yep. I’m drawing you,” you announce, dragging a chair into the light. “Here. Sit. Read. Don’t move too much.”

He hesitates for only a second before complying, pulling a book from his bag and settling into the chair. He’s used to this by now—the spontaneous bursts of inspiration that seize you at the oddest times.

You watch him as he opens the book, his long fingers flipping through the pages with practiced ease. He adjusts his glasses, and the golden light catches on the frames, making him look like something out of a Renaissance portrait.

“You’re staring,” he says, not looking up.

“You’re pretty,” you reply without missing a beat, grinning when you catch the faint blush creeping up his neck.

Your brush moves almost of its own accord, capturing the curve of his jaw, the way the light dances in his hair. You’ve drawn him a hundred times before—in little doodles on post-it notes, in margins of notebooks, on scraps of paper that find their way into his pockets and desk drawers. But there’s something about this moment, the quiet intimacy of it, that feels different.

Every now and then, Spencer’s brow furrows or his lips twitch as he reacts to whatever he’s reading.

“Stop that,” you tease, smacking his arm lightly with the handle of your brush.

“Stop what?”

“Reacting. You’re ruining the pose.”

He looks up, feigning innocence. “You want me to be an unfeeling statue?”

“Yes. Just for a little while.”

He shakes his head, but the smile on his face betrays him. “You know I can’t help it. This chapter is fascinating.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the laugh that escapes you. “Fine. But keep the dramatics to a minimum.”

You lose track of time, the rhythm of your brushstrokes and the sound of Spencer turning pages creating a kind of harmony. Occasionally, you catch him sneaking glances at you over the top of his book, his expression soft and adoring.

“Done,” you announce finally, stepping back to admire your work.

Spencer closes his book, setting it aside as he stands to join you. He leans over your shoulder, studying the painting.

“It’s beautiful,” he says, his voice tinged with awe. “You make me look better than I do in real life.”

“Liar,” you reply, nudging him with your elbow. “You’re perfect, and you know it.”

He laughs, pulling you into his arms. His sweater smells faintly of coffee and the library, and you sink into him, paint-stained hands be damned.

The next morning, you’re up early, packing his lunch like you always do. It’s a quiet ritual, one that’s become second nature. You slip a note into the bag—a quick sketch of a coffee cup with the words Stay caffeinated and brilliant scrawled beneath it.

When Spencer leaves for work, he’s none the wiser about the speck of glitter clinging to his sleeve or the faint smudge of yellow paint on his collar.

At the BAU, Derek Morgan squints at Spencer as he sits at his desk, pulling out a sleek new pen to sign some paperwork.

“Pretty boy,” Morgan says, leaning against the desk. “Where’d you get that pen? Looks fancy.”

Spencer freezes mid-signature, his ears immediately turning red. “It’s, uh… It’s just a pen,” he says quickly. “Not that fancy. Just—uh—a gift. From someone.”

“Someone, huh?” Morgan’s grin spreads slowly, his interest clearly piqued.

Spencer clears his throat, focusing intently on the paper in front of him. “It’s a practical pen. The ink quality is exceptional, and the dry time is virtually instantaneous. Which is important for someone who writes as much as I do. The weight and balance are also—”

“Spence.” Morgan cuts him off, laughing. “I’m not asking for a dissertation. Just tell me—who’s the someone?”

“Wh-what do you mean?” Spencer stammers, the papers in his hands suddenly fascinating.

Morgan raises an eyebrow, his tone dripping with mock seriousness. “Is there a ‘someone’ in your life we should know about? Fancy pens, glitter on your clothes… you’ve been walking in here like you’ve got a whole secret world going on.”

Before Spencer can respond, Emily Prentiss spins her chair around, joining the conversation with a smirk. “Wait, wait, wait. Did you say glitter?”

“It’s subtle,” Morgan says, crossing his arms. “But it’s there. And now I want answers.”

Spencer looks like he’s considering fleeing, his wide eyes darting between them. “It’s… not important. Really. Can we get back to work?”

“Not important?” JJ chimes in from her desk, her expression far too curious. “Spence, you’re blushing. It’s definitely important.”

Rossi walks by at that exact moment, sipping his coffee. “Sounds like our resident genius is in love,” he says casually, earning a chorus of laughter from the team.

Spencer groans, burying his face in his hands. “Can we please not do this right now?”

Morgan claps a hand on his shoulder, grinning. “Come on, pretty boy. Who is she? Or he? Or they? Give us something.”

For a moment, Spencer hesitates. Then, with a resigned sigh, he mumbles, “Her name is… Y/N.”

The room falls silent for a beat before bursting into a flurry of exclamations.

“Y/N?” JJ asks, her smile soft. “You’ve been holding out on us, Spence!”

“Okay, but the glitter makes so much sense now,” Emily says, leaning back in her chair.

“Do they pack your lunch too?” Morgan teases. “Because you’ve been looking suspiciously well-fed lately.”

“Enough,” Spencer mutters, though the corners of his mouth betray him with a faint smile. “Yes, I’m… dating someone. Her name is Y/N. She’s an artist. And that’s all you’re getting.”

Morgan snorts. “Oh, we’re getting way more than that. This is just the beginning.”

Spencer shakes his head, but his blush deepens. As much as he protests, there’s an undeniable glow to him that the team can’t help but notice.

And while they tease him mercilessly, it’s clear that they’re thrilled for him—because Spencer Reid, their brilliant, awkward, kind-hearted genius, deserves all the love in the world.

And every night, when Spencer comes home to find you covered in paint with that familiar smile on your face, he’s reminded of just how lucky he is.

That night, Spencer steps through the door, his usual quietness replaced with an air of nervous excitement. His bag is slung over one shoulder, and there’s an extra gleam in his hazel eyes as he finds you standing at the kitchen counter, a bowl of pancake batter in your hands.

“Hey, genius,” you greet, not looking up as you stir. “How was work?”

“Uh…” He hesitates, and the sound of his bag hitting the floor grabs your attention.

You glance up, catching the telltale flush creeping up his neck. “What happened?”

“They… um…” He rubs the back of his neck, his voice softening. “They know.”

Your heart skips a beat, the spoon slipping from your fingers. “They know?”

“About us.”

You freeze for a moment, staring at him, before breaking into laughter. “What gave it away? The glitter, the notes, or the fact that you’ve been using pens too nice for a government salary?”

He cracks a sheepish smile, stepping closer. “Morgan asked about the pen, and I… may have overexplained.”

You laugh even harder, clutching the counter for support. “Oh, Spencer. Of course you did.”

His hands find your waist, steadying you as you catch your breath. “It’s not funny,” he mutters, though his lips are twitching with the hint of a smile.

“It’s hilarious,” you counter, looping your arms around his neck. “What did they say?”

“They were… amused,” he admits, his gaze dropping. “Morgan gave me a hard time, and JJ said it was sweet. Rossi just smirked like he already knew, and Emily—well, she asked if you’re the reason I’ve been smelling like lavender lately.”

You snort, shaking your head. “So, basically, they love it.”

His arms tighten around you, his forehead resting against yours. “They think I’m lucky,” he says softly. “And they’re right.”

Your breath hitches, the sincerity in his voice sending a wave of warmth through you.

“You are lucky,” you tease, brushing a paint-stained thumb against his cheek. “But so am I.

Later that evening, after dinner and a shared bottle of wine, you find yourselves on the couch, your legs draped across his lap. A sketchpad rests on the coffee table, abandoned in favor of the moment.

Spencer is reading again, his brow furrowing every now and then as he flips through the pages. You’re half-watching him, half-daydreaming, your heart full to bursting.

“Do you think they’ll ever stop teasing you?” you ask, breaking the comfortable silence.

He doesn’t look up, but a small smile plays on his lips. “Probably not. But I don’t mind. They’re happy for me—for us.”

The words hang in the air, soft and certain, and you feel a lump rise in your throat.

“Come here,” you murmur, tugging gently on his arm.

He sets the book aside and shifts closer, letting you curl into his side. His hand comes up to cradle your head, his fingers threading through your hair.

“I love you,” you whisper, the words slipping out as naturally as a breath.

He freezes for a moment, his hand stilling against your hair. Then he pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours.

“I love you too,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper.

It’s the first time he’s said it, and the weight of it settles over you like a warm blanket. You can see it in his eyes, the quiet reverence with which he holds those words—holds you.

You lean up to kiss him, your lips brushing against his in a way that feels like a promise. When you pull back, he’s smiling, his cheeks flushed and his eyes alight with something that looks a lot like forever.

Over the next few weeks, life settles into a new kind of normal. The team’s teasing becomes a regular occurrence, but Spencer takes it in stride, his quick wit and encyclopedic knowledge often leaving Morgan speechless.

You keep sending him off to work with lovingly packed lunches and scribbled notes, and he keeps coming home with faint traces of glitter on his clothes and stories that make your heart ache with pride and love.

One evening, as you’re sorting through your art supplies, you find a small stack of post-it notes tucked into one of your sketchbooks. They’re all doodles of Spencer—some detailed, others hastily drawn in moments of inspiration.

You gather them up and slip them into his desk drawer, smiling to yourself as you imagine him finding them later.

And when he does—when he texts you a picture of one with the caption You’re amazing—you know you’ll never get tired of loving him.

Because with Spencer, even the quiet, everyday moments feel extraordinary. And together, you’ve created something messy, colorful, and perfect—a masterpiece all your own.

[lordprettyflackotara]

Can you do a Jeff the killer public type thing just an idea 🤷‍♀️

die for me || jeff the killer

‘good God she’s on the floor rolling her eyes at me, once i get inside she’ll wanna die with me’

sum: after a long mission, Jeff can’t help but admire your dedication to him. the longer the drive back to the mansion goes on, Jeff decides he can’t wait any longer, that needs you now.

tw:smut, minors dni, 18+. public sex, filthy gas station sex, jeff’s a cocky bastard (duh), threats of violence but in a horny way, choking, etc

a/n: first fic inna minute let’s gooo, also friendly reminder i only write for afab/fem readers, that is the only thing i am comfortable writing. my rules are in my pinned post :)

Jeff couldn’t take it anymore.

He always knew he was terrible at controlling impulses. From killing, to insults, to fighting. When Jeff wanted something, nothing was going to get in his way.

This time however, that just so happened to be you.

You were sitting beside him in a beat up toyota, your feet hanging out of the window as you mindlessly played on the nintendo switch Ben had lent you. The orange street lamps briefly illuminated your face every few seconds as Jeff drove past them. Your furrowed eyebrows and softer expression captivated him.

Before this mission Jeff had never thought twice about you, if he was being honest. He never paid attention to anyone at the mansion, especially not newer residents. Typically the newer ones left before he even gave them a second look. But contrary to his dismay, The Operator deemed the two of you to be a compatible duo for the task he had in mind. Jeff was not happy about this, not fearful to hide his anger when he found out the news. Jeff was aware living in the mansion required completing some task every now and then. It was apart of the unspoken contract. Usually The Operator knew better then to send someone with Jeff, given how impulsive and unhinged the killer could be.

To Jeff’s surprise, you kept up with him. You matched every move he made, your face discreetly lighting up with excitement when he made an absurd impulsive decision. You never complained or got annoyed when Jeff mindlessly made a move. You never worried about the consequences. You trusted Jeff’s judgment. That kind of respect was never given to him by any of the others, despite the fact that he was one of the oldest creeps in the mansion. He couldn’t help but continue to glance at you, soaking in your features. He cursed the Earth for making it nighttime, your mesmerizing facial features hidden every few seconds.

Endless words were on the tip of the pale killers tongue, Jeff desperate to have a conversation with you. He hardly even knew your name, shit, he wasn’t even sure he had the correct name in mind. What would you two talk about? How breath taking you looked with fresh blood splattered across your cheeks? How his heart thumped every-time you giggled at one of his shitty one liners? Or how you admired every time he wrote ‘go to sleep’ on the walls after his killing spree? Jeff gripped the steering wheel harshly, gritting his teeth.

Why was this so difficult? He’d never had a problem with this before. Talking to people was the least of his worries, given his appearance. That was another thing he liked about you. You never stared at him like he was some wild zoo animal. You looked at him like he was just another person. Most people, including new residents, always gawked at him like he was a fucked up science experiment. But you? Delightfully the opposite. He tried to keep his eyes on the road, shoving off his thoughts. He spread his legs just a little wider, ignoring the way his body felt ignited. He pressed against the gas pedal, pushing the ancient car to its limits. This caught your attention, causing you to put down the gaming device. You gave him a wicked grin as you rearranged your position, taking off your seatbelt.

This alarmed Jeff, his obsidian hardened gaze meeting yours.

“What the-, what are you doing?” He questioned, his voice sounding more concerned than he would’ve liked. You giggled as you propped yourself to lean out of the car window, your hair brushing past you in the wind. He could hear your cheers of excitement, your head spinning as you felt like you were soaring. Jeff was mesmerized watching you, so much so his eyes were barely on the road anymore. It wasn’t enough that you were so reckless, so effortlessly addicted to any possible danger. But what was sending him over the edge, were your legs. Bare and exposed, your skirt riding up your soft thighs. He swallowed as you parted your knees, revealing just enough of your black lacey panties.

Jeff had to stop himself from slamming on the brakes, his cock growing harder in his jeans. Were you doing this on purpose? Jeff couldn’t tell, your laughter flooding his ears as you leaned further out of the car. If Jeff could’ve had it his way, he would’ve bent you over the hood of the car on the side of the road and fucked you until you begged for him to stop. But he knew if anyone saw someone like him, police would immediately be involved. And if there’s one thing Jeff hated anything more than Jane, it was the police. So instead he abruptly turned the wheel to the left, grinning in satisfaction as he located a small gas station.

Driving through the middle of no where had its perks, meaning if anyone saw him, he definitely had a chance of just killing them all and leaving. But it also meant there would only be a few people to keep you quiet from. “You hungry or something?” You asked, your hair messy and tangled as you popped back into the car. Your cheeks were flushed red, your eyes forming with excitement at the mere idea of a proposition to do something unhinged. “Yeah i’m hungry alright, c’mon,” Jeff grunted, shoving his hood over his head before climbing out of the car. You followed him, the pale killer keeping his head down as he trudged into the store. You followed behind him closely, unsure of what his next move would be. That was another thing Jeff liked about you, your dedication to following his lead.

He could hear the satisfying clicking of your boots as you trailed behind him, the pale killer noting your eyes hovering over a bag of spicy doritos. “We’ll get those inna second, cmere,” Jeff beckoned, motioning for you to follow. You rejoined him, his slender fingers grabbing your wrist. You let out a gasp of surprise as he yanked you into the gas station restroom, locking the door behind you. His large hand covered your mouth, his other pushing you against the rough wall. His obsidian eyes bored into yours as he stared down at you, noting the way your gaze flickered back and forth. As if you were searching his eyes for an explanation. “I don’t know how you did it doll, but you’ve got my attention. Shit, you’ve got me wrapped around your little finger,” He growled. Jeff didn’t like vulnerable confessions, but he didn’t fail to notice the way your eyebrows were raised in confusion.

“Now tell me, did you wear those little black panties for me? Did you hope you’d get my attention with them? That i’d take them off of you?” Jeff huffed. He could feel your face growing warm under his touch, his pale hand slowly lifting off of your face. You were visibly flustered, a soft gasp escaping your lips as he nudged his knee in between your legs. “Answer me before I cut out your tongue,” He threatened, knowing it held no weight. You licked your dry lips before speaking, breathless as he brought his knee to your core. “Y-Yes, you have no idea how badly i’ve wanted y-you,” You sputtered, clearly embarrassed by the forced confession. Jeff tsked, grabbing your chin forcefully. You should’ve known better than to expect a fairytale kiss, Jeff was always known to do what he wants. No guidelines needed.

“Well you sure do know how to flatter a man. Think you can keep up with me doll?” He smirked, feeling himself growing harder in his jeans. With a shaky hand you boldly brought your hand to his bulge, palming at it through the fabric. Jeff’s painted grin grew wider, his eyes ignited with a feral flame. “Naughty naughty girl. You’ll get what you want, just keep quiet for me,” He purred. Without warning he threw himself down onto his knees, lifting up your skirt. “If you want me to keep going you gotta be quiet. Wouldn’t want anyone hearing you, would we?” Jeff asked, relishing in satisfaction as you nodded like a bobble head. He brought his hot mouth to your core, licking a stripe up your clothed cunt. He watched as you squirmed, biting your lower lip to remain silent. He nudged your thighs open wider, pulling your panties to the side.

Jeff stared at your wet cunt, your body practically begging for him to take you. Teasingly he hovered over your cunt for a moment, before diving in like a starved man. You let out a small gasp, before covering your mouth with your own hand. Your other found its way to his hair, your knees threatening to buckle as his tongue flickered across your sensitive clit. Jeff enjoyed using his large hands to pry your thighs open, his fingers harshly digging into the skin. You tilted your head back, your eyes fluttering shut as his tongue teased your entrance. He enjoyed feeling your body beg for more, squeezing around nothing as he enjoyed the nectar your pussy provided.

You were a slave to the way he pleased you, the feeling more erotic to you than you could’ve dreamed of. You had wanted Jeff from the moment you had entered the mansion. The pale killer was tall, dark, and mean. He was fearless, not fearing anyone, anything, or any possible repercussions that could come his way. You admired him for that, your first nights spent with your fingers deep in your cunt as you imagined him destroying your body for his own fun. Now he was on his knees in front of you, lapping at your drenched folds. You tasted divine, Jeff grinning in sick satisfaction as he knew all of his arousal was for him and him alone. You could feel your core begin to tighten, your legs shaking as you approached your first orgasm.

Jeff could feel this too, his lips attached to your clit and sucking harshly. He wanted to rip your first wave of euphoria right out of you. He demanded it. He needed it. He looked up, admiring your desperation to keep quiet as you came in his mouth. The pale killer only lapped at your folds harder, determined to clean you up as best as he could with his tongue. He smirked, chin and lips coated in your juices as he emerged from between your thighs. He rose to his feet, towering over you. You looked dazed, your heart pounding as his strong hands kept you upright. Swallowing, you stared up at him with lust filled eyes. He removed your hand from your mouth, listening to you pant quietly. “Don’t tell me you’re worn out already doll, we’re just getting started,” Jeff snickered, beaming with pride as he tucked some stray hairs behind your ear.

In a swift motion he dragged you over to the sink, bending you over and grabbing a handful of your hair. Your eyes landed on him in the filthy mirror, Jeff’s eyes darkening as he unzipped his pants. “You’re gonna watch me fuck you, understand? You’re gonna watch me ruin this little cunt for anyone else but me. If you look away I won’t hesitate to bash your head in, understood?” Jeff snarled, adjusting himself to your entrance. You verbalized agreement, your body on cloud nine as he began to shove himself inside of you. Your hands gripped the sides of the sink, your knuckles turning white as he abruptly bottomed out inside of you. The pale killer was not a gentle man, especially not when it came to abusing your cunt for his own pleasure. He released your hair, several strands messily falling into your face. His large hand wrapped itself around your neck, his slender fingers dedicated to forming bruises on your tender skin.

His dark obsidian eyes stared at you in the mirror, watching your face scrunch up in pleasure as your walls adjusted around him. “You’re a sick fuck, wanting someone like me to take you like this,” Jeff huffed, slowly moving his hips. Your whimper was muffled by his hand squeezing around your throat, restricting your airway. “In a filthy gas station bathroom too? Such a sick whore,” He seethed, watching your lips part and form into the shape of an O. He had to hold back his own sinful noises as he began to fuck you properly, his cock abusing your g spot with his each thrust. He could feel how tightly you squeezing him, how much your body craved his filthy words. “You like this? Hmm? Being used like a fuckin slut in public?” He grumbled in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. Your eyes threatened to roll back into your head, Jeff squeezing your throat harder.

“Eyes on us slut, don’t make me ruin that pretty face of yours,” He threatened, your fucked out eyes returning to the unholy sight in the mirror. He grinned sadistically as he nibbled at your earlobe, feeling your body grind against his as he did so. Your body felt like it was on fire, your legs trembling as you approached your next high. You had never felt so euphoric before, your body addicted to the pleasure you had only dreamed of. “Such a good fuck doll for me, fuck,” Jeff groaned, fucking into you harshly. You could feel your body growing closer to the edge of your final orgasm, your knuckles turning white from gripping the sink so hard. Jeff could sense this as well, shooting you a sadistic glance in the mirror. “C’mon pretty girl, cum on my cock. Make a mess for me,” He purred, licking your ear lobe. It felt so sickeningly pleasurable you came on his command, your eyes rolling back as euphoria washed over you.

The high of your orgasm didn’t last long, your vision hazy as Jeff forced you onto your knees. Your knees hit the gross sticky tile below, his cock covered in your juices and his precum as he stood before you.

“We aren’t done slut. Open up your mouth and suck.”

[inksoakedparchment]

YOU BELONG TO ME

pairing: bucky barnes c fem!reader

genre: fluff

trope: couple goals

word cunt: 696

tw: nond

a/n: my poor love

The quiet hum of Christmas music filled the cozy apartment as you added the finishing touches to the hot cocoa. Steam curled from the mugs, carrying the scent of cinnamon and chocolate, and the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights cast the room in a warm, golden hue. You could hear Bucky moving around in the living room, his heavy boots thudding softly on the floor as he adjusted a string of lights on the window.

“I think you missed a spot,” you teased, stepping into the room with the mugs.

Bucky turned, his lips quirking into a small smile. “You’re lucky I’m letting you talk to me like that,” he replied, his tone light. “I don’t do this decorating stuff for just anyone, you know.”

“Wow, I’m honored,” you said, handing him a mug.

He took it, his gloved fingers brushing against yours, and for a moment, the room felt warmer than it should have. His smile softened, and he nodded toward the couch. “Sit with me?”

You followed him, settling beside him on the plush cushions. The snow was falling steadily outside, the world beyond the window a blur of white. It felt like you were in your own little bubble, removed from the chaos of the world—a feeling you cherished more than you cared to admit.

“I don’t remember the last time I had a real Christmas,” Bucky said quietly, his gaze fixed on the snow.

You glanced at him, your heart tugging at the vulnerability in his voice. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, taking a sip of his cocoa. “I mean… all of this. The lights, the tree, the quiet moments. It feels normal, you know? I haven’t had normal in a long time.”

You reached out, placing your hand over his. “Well, you’ve got normal now. And you deserve it, Bucky. More than anyone.”

His eyes met yours, and something unspoken passed between you—a quiet understanding, a recognition of shared pain and resilience.

“Thanks,” he murmured, his voice so soft you almost didn’t hear it.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, but rather comfortable, like a blanket wrapping around you both. You leaned your head against his shoulder, and he didn’t pull away. Instead, he shifted slightly, his arm coming to rest along the back of the couch, his fingers brushing against your shoulder.

“You’re good at this,” he said after a moment.

“At what?”

“Making someone feel like they belong.”

Your heart squeezed at his words. You tilted your head to look up at him, finding his blue eyes already on you. “That’s because you do belong, Bucky. Here, with me.”

For a second, he looked like he was going to say something, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. Instead, he reached up, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb brushed against your skin.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

“You don’t have to do anything to deserve being loved,” you replied softly. “You just have to let it in.”

His eyes searched yours, as if trying to find the truth in your words. And then, slowly, he leaned in. The kiss was gentle at first, tentative, as if he was afraid of breaking something fragile. But as you kissed him back, his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and the hesitance melted away.

The world outside disappeared, the snow, the lights, the music—all of it fading into the background. All you could feel was him, the steady warmth of his body, the way his lips moved against yours like he’d been waiting a lifetime for this moment.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads resting against each other, you couldn’t help but smile. “Merry Christmas, Bucky.”

He chuckled softly, his breath brushing against your lips. “Best Christmas I’ve had in a long time.”

The snow continued to fall outside, and for the first time in years, Bucky Barnes felt at peace. And as you sat together by the light of the Christmas tree, wrapped in each other’s warmth, you knew this was only the beginning of something beautiful.

taglist: @sunkissedscribbles @kandis-mom @idkkkkkkk123lgb @nottslvttt

[hwaightme]

In your eyes

THIS IS 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI FOR CAPTAIN’S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut)

(masterlist)

📚 pairing: postgrad!bf!hongjoong x afab!gn!reader 📚 genre: smut, established relationship, so much fluff 📚 summary: time is nobody's friend, and hongjoong often finds himself wondering how much he has lost. thankfully, you always remind him of how beautiful the present and future can be, how full of love, how intimate, how true. 📚 wordcount: 4.0k 📚 warnings/tags: MINORS DNI, semi-edited (do let me know if i missed something), they are so in love, teaching assistant joong, so many pet names (love, darling, etc), he is down bad, mention of time anxiety, mild relationship worries, mention of winter holiday season, y/n is an office worker (nothing specific), mention of exams (joong grading), sort of from joong's perspective 📚 taglist: below 📚 a/n: something about academic joong makes me feel many types of ways... anyhow- hope this is enjoyable and gives warm feels <33; live laugh love joong; any notes, reblogs, comments are highly appreciated! thank you

📚nsfw tags: sub-leaning switch joong, service top energy joong, lovemaking, handjob, fingering, dry humping, praise, begging, piv w condom, missionary, mating press, overstimulation, light cuddling, implied aftercare but not described

Tired eyes. Paper after paper decorated with green ink, subsequently joining the pile that was starting to take over the dining table. The persistent glow of the laptop screen, reflected in a pair of tortoiseshell-frame glasses that kept threatening to slide down an elegant nose. While grading papers was not exactly something that Hongjoong would dream of doing during the winter holidays, it came with his job, and so was not entirely abysmal. Perhaps the only issue was that he had grossly underestimated how much time and focus this task would take. Morning rapidly turned into day, and day equally as quickly trickled into evening, leaving him without as much as a moment to spare for the things people usually occupied themselves with at this time of year. Though, perhaps it was important to note that it was not the actual festivities that he longed for and felt apologetic that he could not partake in thanks to his own decisions, but rather a certain someone.

After finishing grading yet another paper, Hongjoong set his pen aside and roughly rubbed his eyes, careful to not send his glasses flying. Only now did he notice just how dark the room had gotten, barely a sliver of light crawling in through the windows, with no thanks to the gloomy weather outside. He rose from his chair, rolling his shoulders from having been in the same position for an uncomfortable number of hours, and ambled to one of the many floor lamps that were neatly stationed around the living room, each with its own story. He picked a particularly whimsical one right in the corner, squinting when it burst to life, revealing its curious design of frosted flowers, branches, and songbirds. Reluctant feet carried him back to the chair, now turned into an instrument for torturous isolation.

“Enough, you know what, enough…” Hongjoong’s whisper cut through the eerie silence of the apartment. Pushing the rest of the papers away, he leaned back with a huff and slid his phone out of the back pocket of his trousers.

The journey to his home screen was swift, only to end in a deliberate pause as he studied it with a sorrowful smile. He was unsure as to why a pang of melancholy had taken a sudden hold on him, but seeing your happy face as you were looking at a bungeoppang neatly tucked into a tiny white bag - a precious moment from a casual date you had gone on - had him irrationally spiraling. You lived together, and yet, he missed you. He longed to hold you in his arms for longer than a few seconds before pulling away. He dreamed of staying in the same room for what could be ages, sharing the quiet atmosphere, or maybe listening to your favorite songs together. The dark winter nights were taking a toll on him, and in utter solitude, the natural tendency to ruminate reigned supreme and let his worries wander freely from his mind and straight to his fragile heart.

When Hongjoong and yourself had discussed winter vacation, the conclusion was reached without much back and forth. You were not taking any days off, and Hongjoong made the most of his time off, well, doing more work. In retrospect, it might have been a silly idea on his part, but much like how you had explained it back to him, if it meant solidifying his position by being on the good side of his supervisor and being responsible for more things as a teaching assistant, it was worth it. But now, seeing couples roaming the streets around the city whenever he commuted into university, and generally the mere notion of having only the evenings and odd parts of the weekend to spend with you started to make him sick to the stomach. Without realizing it, he had driven himself into a corner, and he wanted out.

Before he could get any further than the usual perusal of social media, he heard the muted rattling of keys, and in a matter of seconds, the front door opened, revealing a familiar form. His eyes immediately settled on you, noting how you shrugged off your messenger bag and coat, leaving them on the ottoman in the corridor rather than hanging them up—clearly, he was not the only one tired. Nonetheless, when you raised your head after having freed yourself from the confines of your dress shoes, a smile spread across your face.

“Hi Joongie,” and just like that, his heart picked up its previously lethargic pace. 

“Welcome home my love,” the endearment slipped off his tongue, earning him an amused chuckle. 

“Mhm, missed me?”

“Maybe a little,” he played coy, knowing full well that you could read him like an open book no matter what front he put up. He returned your gleam, keeping his undivided attention on you as you sauntered off in the opposite direction. 

“I just need to change and I’ll be right back, alright?”

“Of course.”

Suddenly, the laptop and exams on the table irritated him. Hongjoong rose and tidied the papers into neater piles, shut his laptop, and arranged them all on the other side, as far away from him as possible; in his mind, should you two decide to have dinner in this room instead of the kitchen, you could sit closer to him. A win in any book. He pushed the sleeves of his shirt further up and carded his fingers through his hair, undoing a couple of unruly knots. What was he readying himself for? Maybe the answer was something beyond him, but he could not deny the warmth in his chest that grew and grew when he spotted you across the corridor once again, only now in a pair of pajama bottoms and one of the band t-shirts that he owned and you constantly borrowed.

Caught in a miniature mental disarray, he remained where he was, only slightly moving to allow for your arms to snake around his torso, and his hands to settle on your waist. Your embrace was grounding, boundless in affection, and Hongjoong gave up to the floaty sensation as he leaned in and buried his face in the crook of your neck. Surrounded by the remnants of the light, daytime perfume that you used, he found himself in paradise. He sensed a hand trail up his spine and start to toy with the longer hairs at the back of his head. This was a habit that you had only recently picked up, seeing as, for once, he was letting his hair grow longer, and he would be lying if this was not motivation for him to keep the mission going indefinitely. A warning hum erupted from somewhere deep in his chest when you lightly tugged. In a feeble attempt to mask his response to your playful caresses, he murmured:

 “How was work?”

“The usual, though it was quieter now that most people are off,” Hongjoong lifted his head and was immediately dazed by the adoration pooling in your eyes. You looked at him as if he hung the stars in the sky. Inadvertently, he pulled you closer, and yet still wasn’t quite satisfied.

“How’s everything for you?”

“Been focusing on the exams today, got through most of them actually.”

“Oh look at you, my scholar,” you whispered in response, tapping Hongjoong’s nose with your own. Meekly, he smiled and attempted to look away, only to be guided right back with your steady hand that had now let go of his hair, instead resting on his jaw.

“I should be the one praising you… who closed that insane project that was initially expected to be postponed into the new year, hm?”

“That I did, indeed, but doesn’t take away from how proud I am of you,” your words were honey, trickling into his ears and coating his very soul like a soothing balm.

“And I am proud of you.”

“We did well, didn’t we, Joongie?” The nickname had him wavering, tip-toeing on the edge of rationality.

“Mhm,” his next words came on their own accord, raw, vulnerable, barely audible, “I really missed you, darling.”

“But I am here, aren’t I?”

“I’m sorry, I might be getting greedy,” his hands ghosted over your hips until one hand pushed you into him by the small of your back. You let out a gasp, but quickly regained your composure, clearly not taken aback. 

“Not that I mind it… Ah, is my poor Joong lonely?” after a few seconds of silence, you continued, “you are so precious, you know that?” He loved that expression you got when you basked in the glow of knowing. Knowing just how far gone Hongjoong was for you. It was embarrassing at times to reveal and admit how pathetic he could become just to see that little smirk, even just to himself, but he did not dwell on it for the reward was far too great, “tell me what you mean, baby.”

“I-... I know we agreed to keep things busy this winter but I can’t help but want… yeah, I miss you.”

“Can’t help but want me, you mean?” you detangled his intricate web in no time. Hongjoong walked in circles, while you cut straight to the chase. Maybe this was why he did not care for much at all except for your understanding and your reciprocation. He nodded, finding solace in hiding his face in your neck once more.

“Well, baby, what’s got you so pensive? Hm? Tell me?” your voice shifted from allure to sweet concern as you checked in. Hongjoong was all the more exposed, every move less calculated than the one prior, and your infinite devotion towards him, his thoughts, his everything was making him too dizzy to stand up straight.

“I just… hm, I don’t know-”

“You do, maybe are just too shy to tell me?”

“I want to spend more time with you, just us, you know? Little dates, we don’t have to do much… but I want us to be present, ah what am I even saying-”

“You were saying something that I would love to do, Hongjoong,” you were quieter than before, more tender, “we have definitely been a little relaxed after moving in together, haven't we?”

“Mm, I wouldn’t say that-”

“I would. And that won’t do. So, how about we start now, then?”

All too delectable were the images that flashed in Hongjoong’s mind, and he felt bashful and helpless under your steady scrutiny. With your pointer finger resting under his chin, he could not do anything except stare back, a task proving to be increasingly challenging as heat rose on his cheeks. His head moved on its own accord, response shallow, almost a tremble rather than agreement.

“Words, Joongie, good boys use words.”

Oh how he craved you. His stomach coiled at your dangerous reminder. Instead of any coherent phrase, vulnerable, shallow breaths danced between you and him. Nobody was his audience except you, nobody knew him like you did, and yet the sheer weight of his infatuation with you was preventing him from saying a single thing, despite any fears being irrational. As soon as he were to say what was yelling at him in his mind, you would be satisfied, and allow him to drown in everything that you were.

“Yes…” he choked out, relieved upon detecting the beginnings of a feline grin.

“Yes what? Do elaborate.”

“Yes I- want this. I want us, I want you.” 

“How?”

“I want you to do whatever you want to me,” heart hammering in his chest, he stammered.

“In that kind of mood, are you?”

“Oh please-” he wanted to disappear, shrinking back to free himself from your hand to no avail. Your chest again his, lips a mere tilt of the head away, and his senses were flooded.

“I’d love to, Joongie, I’d love to take care of you.”

Soft lips moulded perfectly with his, like freshly fallen snow. Hongjoong’s senses went into overdrive as the kiss built up into a sultry, addictive rhythm. Teeth grazed his lower lip ever so gently, and before he could react,you deepened the kiss by resting your arms on his shoulders. Immediately his hands responded by finding purchase on your lower back. He was grateful that your mouth muffled the whine bubbling in his throat as you purposefully shifted your body into his. But somehow, it was still not enough. 

“Mh- sorry-” Parting for air was simply an excuse for Hongjoong to fish for his glasses with a trembling hand and set them down on the nearest surface. Apparently, it was not a distraction to you in the slightest.

Your onslaught continued past his plush, reddened lips and across his jaw, ending on a particularly sensitive spot on his neck. He jolted, but when you chased him to nip at the same place again he took no time in giving you better access. You moved again, leaving quick pecks on his lips and pressing your forehead against his. In the breathless euphoria any chances to overthink had disappeared, and he allowed himself to let go, to be completely yours. He was willingly leaving himself to be at your mercy, knowing that he was going to be safe, going to be adored. In a flurry of emotion, he bared his soul.

“I love you,” he did not notice the shakiness in his own hands until you raced to clasp them with your own.

“I love you too, Joongie.”

It took one step for him to start following you to the bedroom. You appeared as the very notion of calm, guiding Hongjoong. You let go of one of his hands to switch on a bedside lamp, making haste to return your attention to him. He melted under your touch, half-lidded eyes following how your swift fingers undid the buttons of his shirt. You treated him like he was priceless porcelain, a touch here, another there, skillfully ghosting over the places you know, from experience, would send him reeling and falling to your feet. But it was obvious that this was not the night for such a progression. Tonight was about connecting beyond the physical, about exploring intimacy as more than just some flimsy term.

As soon as you gave the sign, Hongjoong shrugged off his top, shivering momentarily until your hands were back, roaming his chest and waist freely. Enthralled, he mumbled your name. His eyes roamed ceaselessly as you got undressed, standing proudly before him, almost fully bare, beautiful. While you had told him you changed, evidently that included a conscious decision to dress up in the most enticing lingerie - he thought it was impossible to keep falling in love like this, but he kept on proving himself wrong whenever you were with him. Even though he had seen you like this many times over, every time left him wondering how he could possibly have found someone so lovely. Words escaped him. 

“Leaving me alone like this?” you asked, a smirk etching itself into your features. You did not need to ask Hongjoong twice for him to clumsily begin undoing his trousers and settle on the edge of the bed, face flushed.

“So precious, so good to me,” you cooed, carding your fingers through his wavy locks.

When you straddled his lap and inched dangerously close to his boxers, Hongjoong swore his head was spinning. Prompted by another gentle tug at his hair, he kissed the soft skin of your breasts, one hand making quick work out of undoing your bra while the other played with the lacy fabric. 

He followed your sighs, your sharp inhales and exhales, the sounds you bit back and he would tirelessly do anything to hear. His teeth grazed you ever so lightly as he travelled from one breast to another, a trail of kisses remaining anywhere he went. You grinded your hips into his with more purpose, feeling that delicious heat starting to rise in your core. Hongjoong responded with a flick of his tongue on your nipple, humming when he could finally rid you of pesky material, leaving him with every chance to show his love for you. Fingers stimulated the one he had shifted away from, while his other hand returned to its rightful place on your lower back. 

It was as though a fire had enveloped him. There was not enough space, not enough air, and yet his only wish was to be so close to you that he could simply disappear. He was painfully aware of his hardening length, the continuous friction leaving him with half a mind to start begging. For what? Perhaps, for anything. Anything that you would give. You pulled yourself even closer, now sat directly on top of the growing wetness on his boxers, putting all the more effort into your hips. Airy mewls spilled from his lips, and he lunged to hold you, hands on your ass encouraging you to continue to untangle him at this agonising pace.

It was a game of lips, tongue and teeth. You returned to kissing him, foregoing whatever stability you tried to contain to completely sink into his form. Taken as he was by you, Hongjoong tried his best to keep up, lewd, slick noise that echoed in his ears only spurring him on. 

Your limbs were cotton, thoughts preoccupied by a carnal want. Palming his erection, you smiled against Hongjoong’s lips when he moaned.

“How’s that baby, hm?”

“Don’t stop-”

“Want more? Is that right?” feverish nods, resulting in you pulling at the elastic of his boxers, “Off,” you sat up a little to help him, balancing with your knees on the bed as he shimmied the fabric off just enough for you to push it further down to his ankles, “so pretty.”

You covered your palm in his dripping pre-cum and smoothed it down his length in a couple of skilled pumps, amused by Hongjoong’s adamance to be obedient, pursing his lips to remind himself that he shouldn’t buck into you. His gaze was fixated on your caresses, just enough to drive him mad, but not enough to take him over the edge, only ever wavering to glance at your still-clothed pussy. Judging by your momentary spell of quiet, you were trying to focus on him at the expense of your own desires. 

With another groan, Hongjoong slipped your panties to the side, calloused fingers immediately being coated in slick. Rhythmic circles over your clit turned to music to his ears as you mewled, leaning forward to find his shoulder, biting it ever so slightly. With every breathy moan his body kept on screaming for you, your warmth unbearably inviting. When he dipped two fingers into your core your movements faltered and you squeezed around his base in warning. He could lose himself then and there, sheer power of will leaving him one thread to hang by.

“Baby, can I please-”

“Say it, Joong,”

“Can we take it to the end? Please, please I-”

“If we don’t I’d be upset. I, want, you, so, bad-” you punctuated your response with pecks across his face, an ecstatic grin meeting his own.

You and him were a mess of limbs and pleasure falling onto the bed, him helping you over and pulling the panties completely off, humming at the sight. He was eager to please, ensuring you were comfortable with how you were lying down. Adjusting the pillows, placing one under your hips to avoid any strain, checking that you would not hit the headboard, stretching towards the drawer to take out a condom, speedily tearing the packaging and rolling it on. You watched him, enamoured. Beauty, inside and out, ethereal in the honey-coloured light.

He positioned himself at your entrance, gliding his tip a couple of times over your sensitive clit before pushing in. You sighed, head falling back at the relieving fullness. Your walls clenched around him as he bottomed out, making him let out a low growl. He shifted his weight forwards until his arms were on either side of you and he could indulge in your every expression.

It was a delightful stretch. Your every sense was filled by him, and only him. Then, he began to move. He started agonisingly slow, pulling out almost his entire length only to drive it back in, punctuated by the sound of skin against skin. He dragged his hips almost lazily, but you knew better than to assume that this was going to continue for much longer, given his shallow breathing.

Hiis thrusts became more accentuated, faster within a few minutes, and you searched for anything that you could hold, all too quickly losing yourself. In a feeble attempt to reach for him you lifted your arms upwards. More often than not you did not need to explain to Hongjoong what it was you wanted - he read you and understood, just like now. With a strained chuckle he edged forwards until he was close enough for you to wrap your arms around his neck. The feeling of your digits back in his hair had him biting his lower lip, barely containing his building high.

A particularly deep thrust made you tug at strands, and he moaned, rolling his hips with newfound vigour. Every time you clenched around him he became more frantic. The glide against your walls was perfection, the familiar coil tightening at a frightening speed towards a crashing release. Your arms collapsed when Hongjoong cursed under his breath, tapping your thighs to angle them upwards. You shifted upwards, legs barely wrapped around him as the new position gave him even more depth and freedom to pound into you.

The wetness embracing him was downright vulgar, noise enhancing the redness of his cheeks. You tensed around him, previously quiet pants transforming into a mantra of his name. He gripped your thighs in a last attempt to remain grounded, but as waves of your climax took over you and you pulsed around his cock, limbs trembling, all he could do was give in. Give into you, give into white hot euphoria. You were soaking him, he was rapidly getting overstimulated but he could not careless, remaining exactly where he was even though his muscles were screaming.

He was completely spent. Nothing but adoration towards you remained. He winced as he pulled out and hastily took off the condom, far too sensitive to function. Falling to your side, he watched the rise and fall of your chest, entranced by how even the smallest details that you possessed had their own brilliance. After a few moments you shifted, pushing the pillow from underneath you and turning to the side, facing Hongjoong. Your sleepy, but totally mesmerised gaze made his heart hurt. You. It was you who he loved, you who he lived with, you with whom he could make love like this. 

“Hi,” you whispered with a giggle.

“Hi,” he brushed your cheek and kissed you again. You lifted your arm, suggesting that he were to move closer to you. Much to his dismay, a surge of stimulation pulsed through him, making him gasp. Thankfully, you took it with good humour, eyes travelling down his body, seductive even in the afterglow. 

“I am not sure I should move just yet,” he suggested with a chuckle, astonished with himself.

“Hm… then let me get us all cleaned up and I-”

“-you are not moving either,” powering through, Hongjoong stretched his arm until it was lying across your torso. There was no force behind the action itself, except maybe in his pouting lips that you could not help but want to kiss again and again. You chuckled and feigned annoyed acceptance.

“Fine, I guess we can stay.”

“Love you.”

“Love you more,” you countered.

“Impossible.”

You shifted closer until all you could see was Hongjoong’s face, and all he could see was yours. And yet, somehow, in each other’s eyes, you could see the world. Those plans you mentioned, those worries, those wishes, those desires all collected in miniature universes of the soul, reflections and projections of a life lived and to be lived together. Dreamy eyes.

📚perma-taglist: @charreddonuts @preciouswoozi @http-gyu @my-loves-my-life @yeonjunnie @wooyoungjpg @wowie-hockey @ren-junwrld @hongjoongs-patience @miriamxsworld @innsomniacshinestar @jaehunnyy @maddkitt @marsstarxhwa @asjkdk @northerngalxy

enjoyed? i would love to hear from you, it means the universe to me. thank you.

[madamechrissy]

Preview for Silent Serenades

An arranged Marriage with Duke Gojo - ♔Part Fourteen ♔

MDNI- Explicit sex/dirty talk/possessive Gojo- Do not read if you haven't read part Thirteen- major spoilers after the cut- we are heading to the end OMG <3 Masterlist - will be out on Christmas Eve!

“Look at me when you cum for me, Duchess. I want to see those beautiful eyes roll back in pleasure, just for me.” His voice is a low growl, a quiet demand, you struggle to focus, feeling the pressure coil in your tummy.

You lock eyes with him, feeling the connection between you grow stronger with each passing second, the passion and the love that abounds and grows every day, somehow even the dirtiest words that spill from his mouth are sweet. Pretty little slut is sweet to your ears, the squishing of your wetness on his cock is beautiful especially when your husband looks at you like this.

Your orgasm crashes over you like a wave then, spreading all over your body, your cries echoing loudly while one of his hands squeezes your throat, watching you fall apart all over him. Your walls are convulsing around his cock, you’re barely able to hold yourself up anymore.

“Mine, mine, mine.” He grunts with every thrust, releasing your throat now, you nod quickly, gasping for a greedy breath.

“Y-yours.” You whisper, he needs it, and you need this, after everything to know who you belong to, and who he belongs to.

The grip on your hips tightening, his beautiful eyes never leaving yours, when you feel him thickening, hear the catch in his breath, the crease between his brows, you know he’s close. You press his back against the velvet carriage seat, taking a breath and rocking up and down his length again, he lets you take control, watching you hungrily.

“God, fucking look at you.” You feel your cheeks heat up at his praise, as his hands press against your stays, the fabric marking your skin, as he watches you with a lidded gaze.

“W-want you to cum for me, Toru. Please.” Your plea earns his lips slamming on yours, and he pins you down fully on his entire length, groaning into your mouth as he finds his release.

His hot spurts of cum fill you, and his throbbing cock edges you again, you’re falling with him, hopelessly into him in the little carriage, arms wrapping around your waist as he keeps pumping his cum deeper. You feel tears falling on your cheeks, legs shaking as you ride him slower and slower, as he fucks you both through the aftershocks and you’re both trembling messes.

“How are you so sexy? What you do to me?” He murmurs now, you giggle a bit, breathless, he eases out of your sore cunt, your cum and his dripping out of your little hole and onto him.

“What you do to me. Having me act so wanton and scandalous.” You tease, he chuckles a bit, sighing and cupping your face with two hands.

“Do you know what I wish, Duchess?”

“What is it, Satoru?” You both adjust yourselves somewhat, he turns you so you are sideways in his lap, pressing kisses all over your face.

“That we could redo our wedding. That I could… fix it.” You hear the emotions in his throat, you sigh, nodding then. “That you didn’t hate that night, that you weren’t crying on the fucking floor.”

“Satoru we are so far past it-”

“It does not matter, I will hate myself for it forever.”

You take his hand, pressing a kiss on the back of his knuckles, feeling emotions capture your heart. “We need not think on it, I do not hold any resentment any longer in my heart.”

“I want to do it over. I want a true wedding, I want a honeymoon… I want so much more for you than I gave.” You feel his heart racing under your palm as it rests on his chest over his dress shirt. You watch the man you adore have to handle what he has done, and all you can do is try to reassure him you do not hold anything against him, but he has to live with it.

“Do not endlessly punish yourself, I want us to be happy.” He exhales, shaking his head, hand stroking your back gently.

“This will help me, please agree to it.”

“Agree to what exactly, Satoru? What do you need?”

“I want to marry you because we want to, not because we were forced to, even though lord knows I couldn’t be happier I am with you. I want it for us, and us only. I want to carry you over that threshold, in my fucking arms. I want to make love to you on our wedding night, and have you fall asleep in my bed, and wake you up licking and kissing every inch.” His voice gets more hoarse with every word, and your heart is racing, your chest rising and falling with each breath.

“Satoru…”

“No, Princess, I need this. I need you to feel desired and loved like you were supposed to, like I should have.” He swipes tears that fall down your cheeks, you feel like you’re spinning, like you’re dizzy, like you’re in a dream.

“We have it now, I feel your love now. I feel it burning for me, as I burn for you, I feel you everywhere.” He gulps, adam’s apple bobbing.

“I know you do, but I need to show you what I should have given you, fuck what you deserve. You deserved to be happy that night, looking so beautiful, so hopeful just for me to crush you.” You’re sobbing now, as the pain sinks in, it’s almost as if you cannot imagine Satoru did it.

“I want to pretend it did not happen.” He shakes his head.

“It did happen, I did those things. I need to right them, to do it all over, to take you far the fuck away from here, somewhere beautiful, fuck you on every surface and feed you and pamper you. Like the Princess you are to me.” His words make you dizzy, images flitting your mind.

“You already make me feel that way, I swear you do.” You murmur, he takes your hand then, thumbing the pearls of the ring on your delicate finger.

“I want to marry you again, it can be just us two. But I want it, and I need it, to take you away and give you everything, to make it special for you. You deserve that and more. Let me show you my love, please, marry me because you want to, because I want you to. Because I love you so deeply it kills me, because I cannot imagine a life without you.”

“Satoru!” You are a sobbing mess now, kissing him over and over, nodding and sniffling as he holds you to him, so tightly you cannot breathe, you’re nodding weakly, and he’s smiling against your lips then.

“Will you marry me, Duchess? Truly marry me this time?”

YEPPPP it's happening <3 This will be an emotional and beautiful chap for these two, as well as ofc the drama- we have the ball w/ King Sukuna and Adelia (this is set after the two leave the ball) There are only two parts left after this ahhhh

[marauder-misprint]

Trust Fund

Sirius Black x Pettigrew!reader

5.7k words

cw: post-hogwarts, swearing, snogging, fluff

Being two years older than Peter, you did your best to not cross paths with him during the five years you shared at Hogwarts. You love your brother. That wasn’t why. You had just hoped that he would make his own path without being seen as your little brother, and he did. You didn’t pay attention to his friends either; you knew they were such a tight knit group that they were still living together now, after Hogwarts. Would you recognize any of them if you saw them out on the street? Probably not. 

You frequented a wizarding club near your apartment that you shared with one of your friends from Hogwarts, Marie. She never came with you, opting to spend time with her boyfriend rather than a room full of sweaty people drinking and dancing. Her loss. 

You usually left the club alone, despite the many times you’d be dancing with someone all night. Because you were such a regular, the bartenders and security guards all knew you, and they knew when you looked ever so slightly uncomfortable and when to step in. Without talking, they could tell when you were done with a person and they’d make sure you were okay when you were leaving. So, you always made it home safe to wake up slightly hungover in your own bed. 

You expect tonight to go no different. You don a simple skater dress; you like the way the skirt would flare as you spin while dancing. Add heels, makeup and jewelry and you’re ready to go. Marie is already gone off to her boyfriend’s by the time you leave. It’s a short enough walk to the club. You tap your wand on the graffiti door in an alley. It solidifies and you’re able to enter. The security guard just nods at you as you pass by some girls who look far too young to be there.

“Hey, why aren’t you asking her for ID?” one of the girls complains.

The guard glares at her and she slinks to the back of her group. You laugh to yourself. You didn’t mind the special treatment you were given as thanks for being a regular. As you step through the second set of doors, you’re greeted with colorful, flashing lights, a thin fog of artificial smoke and the smell of alcohol, sweat and a sweet perfume that you know is misted around intermittently to counteract the sweat. 

You wave to the bartender and he starts to make your usual drink. By the time you’ve moved through the small crowd between you and the bar, your drink is ready for you. You exchange your wand for your drink, as collateral to make sure you pay your tab at the end of the night. You lean against the bar, sipping your drink as you gaze around the club. Music is playing loudly, drowning out any conversation around you. You know you’ll need at least one more drink before you take the floor. Not too many people are here yet and you need more artificial confidence if you’re going to dance on a non-packed dance floor. 

Then the  bartender slides you a drink just as you finish the one in your hand.

“Oh, I didn’t ask for another one yet,” you say.

He leans forward across the bar. “It’s from the gentleman at the end, the one with the curly hair. Taking care of your tab tonight.”

You raise your eyebrows at the bartender after looking where he had briefly gestured. 

“Then, I guess I don’t mind if I do…” you say, picking up the glass and taking a sip. 

You know the guy is watching you, waiting. After a second sip, you abandon your spot to approach him. As you get closer, you see he’s wearing ripped jeans and a black t-shirt that looked like it once had a design or logo on it at one point but had faded away over time. Even closer, you notice the silver jewelry, on his hands, around his neck and in his ears. Damn, he’s attractive.

“So, Trust Fund, fancy a dance?” you ask before taking a sip of the drink he was paying for.

He cocks an eyebrow at you with a wide grin.

“I’d love one.”

You hold out your free hand for him to take so you can lead him out to the floor. It doesn’t take long for the guy to become touchy, but it’s a good touchy. His chest is pressed firmly into your back with his hands on your waist. His cologne breaks through perfumed air and perpetual smell of sweat. You welcome that. As you continue to dance together, his hands wander, down to your hips, back up to your waist, to your stomach and high, to your thighs. You can feel his breath on your neck. He is so close. 

More songs play and you dance face-to-face as well. He’s just as close for that, his hands resting on your arse. Smiles adorn both your faces. You’re so caught up in his grey eyes, which he is unable to take off of you. You feel oblivious to the rest of the club, but it’s not your fault. He’s just so enchanting, so enthralling.

After a few more drinks, a mix of alcohol and water to pace yourself, you excuse yourself for the loo.

“You, my handsome Trust Fund, better still be here when I get back.”

“How ‘bout I get us another round? Meet you here?”

You nod. And he is waiting for you when you return, two drinks in hand as promised. You’re feeling emboldened. You take the drink he’s holding out for you and you slam it. He watches you with wild eyes. He’s enraptured with you. Then he mirrors your action, slamming his own drink. You take his cup and place both of them on a nearby table. Then you grab his shirt and pull him close to you. It’s the kind of action that makes your intentions obvious, and he obliges, bringing your faces ever closer together until lips meet. He tastes of the alcohol he’s been drinking and faintly of cigarettes. It’s anything but gentle and sweet. It’s hungry and fueled by desire. It doesn’t take long for you to be pushed against the wall, his tongue basically down your throat. You had one arm wrapped around his waist and the other hand tangled in his hair. His were groping your arse and holding your hips in place. 

You’re not sure how long you’ve been attached to his face, but you break apart when someone near you says, “Get a room.”

You both laugh, resting foreheads against each other.

“My roommate isn’t home tonight,” you breathe. 

“Yeah?” 

You nod. Suddenly, you’re wearing matching grins. He throws an arm around your shoulder and leads you back to the bar, where he exchanges a small pile of galleons for your wands. You give the employees a sly smile, a silent “I’m okay.” The cool air of the night hits you with a wave of sobriety. The man next to you is still stunningly beautiful, which makes you smile to yourself. 

“You live ‘round here?” he asks, looking down at you.

“Yeah, just a few blocks. What about you, Trust Fund?”

“Same. Not too far.”

You turn in the direction of home, his body following your movements. Every once in a while, he presses a gentle kiss into your hairline. The sweet action makes your heart flutter. You know bringing him back to your flat is a signal for certain activities, but the affection he shows you on the way makes you wonder what will become of this. 

“This is my building,” you say once you’ve arrived.

He takes a moment to look at the street sign and building name. You’re not sure if he’s judging it or trying to memorize it.

“Okay, yeah, I know where we are,” he says after a moment. “I’m a bit that way.” He points diagonally backwards. “Would’ve been funny if we were in the same building though.”

“Well, we’re in the same building tonight,” you tell him, opening the front door and holding it open for him.

He follows you up a few flights of stairs and down the hallway to your door. The way he’s looking around, you think he’s counting each flight, each door you pass, so that if he had to come back without your help, he’d be able to.

“Trust Fund, you want tea?” you offer as soon as you lock the flat’s door behind you.

“Why’re you calling me that, huh?”

“What? Trust Fund?” you reply with a giggle.

He nods, tracing his hands up and down your arms as you stand in your kitchen. 

“Instead of buying me a singular drink, you picked up my whole tab before even seeing if I was interested.”

He hums. “Bartender said you’re there often. Maybe I figured your bank account could use a break.”

“You asked Craig about me?” you tease.

“Craig?” he laugh and runs a hand through his hair. “Of course you’re on a first name basis with the bartender. You’re there often.”

“And I do drink within my means. My bank account is just fine, thank you very much.”

“So you never… go a little crazy?”

You give him a sweet smile and tuck a curl behind his ear.

“I don’t need alcohol to go crazy.”

He gives you an amused smirk before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Yes, tea would be lovely.”

Quiet conversation flows naturally over your cups of tea. When the cups are empty, you place them in the sink. You feel his eyes watching you, as if taking your movements around your domicile. You begin to head to your room, but when you turn around, he’s still standing in your kitchen.

“Trust Fund, you coming? you ask suggestively.

He breaks out of whatever thought was holding him captive in his own head. He nods, a wide grin immediately appearing. He follows you into your room and closes the door behind you. Sure, your roommate wasn’t home now, but she came home early, there were things she didn’t need to see. 

---

You wake up to an empty bed. Part of you wonders if maybe you’d had too much to drink last night and the beautiful man you’d brought home was all a dream. That is, until you actually get up. Marie is in the kitchen, sipping a cup of tea. She smiles with a wicked glint in her eyes when she sees you. 

“I see you had fun last night.”

Your hand immediately snaps to your neck. If you had love bites on your neck, then he wasn’t a dream. 

She laughs loudly. “I wasn’t talking about that! Check the fridge.”

You see a note placed under one of the magnets. 

‘Text me sometime -Trust Fund <3’ with his number underneath.

“Trust Fund?” Marie asks after you smile at the note.

“This guy, absolutely stunning by the way, starts off with handling my entire tab before even saying hi. And even if he asked Craig the bartender how much I usually drink, that’s such a ballsy move.”

“And you brought him home.”

“Like I said, he was stunning.” 

“Was he… any good?”

You blush furiously and look away. He had been. The best you’d had in years. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she giggles before loudly sipping her tea.

You move to put the kettle on with a roll of your eyes. As you wait for the water to boil, you reread the short note on the fridge. You like his handwriting, full of flourishes and flair. It fit his style. The note itself made your stomach flip. It meant that he had a good enough time last night too, enough that he wanted to see you again. 

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about what to text him or when to text him. You didn’t want to come off as too eager, but you didn’t want to wait too long and risk him becoming uninterested or thinking you just got lonely and wanted attention. You’re sitting on the couch with the TV on, but you’re not paying attention to it. You’re staring at your phone. You haven’t texted him yet, but you want to. Boy, do you want to.

“Merlin, just text him,” Marie says, coming out of her room. 

“I don’t want to look-”

“He wouldn’t have left his number if he didn’t want you to text him,” she cuts you off. “I’m sure he’d love to see you again, which he can’t do until you text him.”

“He knows where I live,” you point out.

“That’s just an excuse! Text. Him.”

“Marie,” you whine.

“Do you want to see him again?” she asks, crossing her arms and leaning against the kitchen counter. 

“Yes.”

“Then text him. Doesn’t have to be much.”

“Like I can just say hi?”

“Yes! It’s not that difficult.”

“Says the girl who’s been dating her boyfriend since sixth year.”

“Whatever,” Marie laughs. “Speaking of, I’m off to Theo’s. You better have texted that poor sod by the time I’m back.”

You open your messaging app as soon as Marie is out the front door.

[Hey Trust Fund :)]

Your phone makes a swooshing noise as the text sends. And you wait. And wait. You stare at the phone. The TV provides background noise for your unraveling thoughts. 

Did I wait too long to text? Did I not wait long enough? Was ‘Hey’ the wrong thing to say? What if he left the wrong number to mess with me? What if last night wasn’t as enjoyable for him as it was for me and he left his number to appear polite but has no intentions of seeing me again? What if-

Your phone dings. His message lights up your screen.

{hey sweetheart - sorry i had to leave, work :/}

[Who goes to the club when they work in the morning?]

{fun people}

[Where do you work?]

{trying to stalk me?}

[Curious to see where Trust Fund gets his money]

{the record store on cornwallis ln}

{always slow in the morning}

It’s fitting that he works in a music store; over the tea last night, he talked a faer bit about his favorite bands, one of which was on his shirt, despite it being so faded. You realize you’re smiling at your phone. You sigh and decide to be bold.

[Hope it’s not too forward, but I’d like to see you again. Last night was fun]

He doesn’t respond as quickly as he had been. You click the off button on your phone to make the screen go dark as you begin to internally panic. Maybe it was too forward. Too quick to suggest seeing him again. 

Then your screen lights up again.

{i’d love that - busy wed evening?}

He’d love that. Your panic immediately subsides. 

[Nope, but I am now ;)]

---

He suggested a local cafe that did cocktail nights with live music. He’d been to a few of them before, describing it as a laidback scene, casual. It sounded like a good idea so you agreed. You had spent far too long staring at your closest deciding what to wear, only to end up in jeans and a flowy top. A cute outfit but not as “trying hard” as a different skater dress or a skirt would have been. He had said he would meet you outside your building and you’d be able to walk there together. 

“Hey gorgeous!” he calls out as he approaches you. He’s wearing jeans, no rips this time, and a different band tee. 

You feel more confident in your outfit. 

“Hey Trust Fund.”

“Oh, still calling me that, are you?”

You laugh, “Well, I don’t actually know your name…”

“Never came up, did it?”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. Then you hold out your hand and say your first name.

He takes your hand to shake it and laughs with you. “Sirius.”

“Like the star?”

“Surprised you know it.” You give him a do I look stupid look. “Not in that way! Most people just don’t recognize it.”

You watch him take out his phone and go to what you assume is your contact.

“Aw, I’m there as pretty thing? That’s cute! You should keep it!”

“You are, no doubt. That’s why that’s what I went with. But I like names, nicknames. Helps me keep track of who’s who, you know?”

“Got a couple pretty things in your phone?”

He flushes at your teasing. 

“No,” he says slowly. “But I do have roommates who like to steal my phone and change all of the contact names. If they saw one pretty thing, every. single. contact. would be pretty thing and I’d have to spend hours figuring out which one is you.”

“Well, you’re staying as Trust Fund,” you say with a cheeky smile. “Plus, my brother would probably look at my phone and ask ‘why are you texting a star?’”

“You got a brother?” 

“Yup. Just one. What about you? Any siblings?”

“One brother too. We’re not too close.”

“Huh,” you say. “I’m not close with mine either. Siblings, what can I say?”

You both laugh and start to walk to the cafe. 

---

It quickly becomes a thing where you and Sirius are seeing each other in person at least once a week, and texting and calling multiple times a day. It wasn’t like you were codependent already. Sirius was just intoxicating, you were addicted to him. You wanted to share everything little thing that happened with him, and the feeling was reciprocated. And you wanted to share him with the people around you. You talked Marie and Theo’s ears off about him. 

“You sound absolutely smitten,” Theo laughs one evening when he and Marie decided for a night in at your shared flat rather than his. 

“Smitten?” Marie asks, shocked. “She’s obsessed! Try asking her about her work, about her other friends, literally anything else. She will somehow tie it back to this boy.”

You shrug. “Not my fault all topics lead back to him.”

“Apparently it’s my fault for encouraging you to text him. If I hadn’t meddled in your love life, you’d still be single and I would still have my sanity.”

“You lost that a long time ago,” Theo says, wrapping his arms around Marie.

“Theo, you’d love him.” Your eyes light up. “We should do a double date!”

“At least let me meet him first before you force him upon Theo! I think roommate ranks higher than roommate’s boyfriend!” 

Sirius, on the other hand, kept you to himself as much as he could. While he didn’t gush to his friends about you, they still knew how much you meant to him, even if they didn’t know your name yet. It was the way he jumped for his phone when your text notification echoed through the flat, the way he smiled when you called and then immediately took the call in a different room, the way he spent a little extra time to make sure he looked good before leaving the flat to meet you somewhere. 

“Off to see my girl, later dudes,” was yelled as he left, leaving the boys to share a knowing look.

Sirius was serious about this girl. And for them to get a little more information out of him all they needed to do was get some alcohol in him. They were hosting game night with some of their Hogwarts friends. As always, drinks were flowing and Sirius wasn’t holding himself back. 

“Sirius, I have a question for you,” Lily says, cornering him in the kitchen as he went to retrieve another beer from the fridge.

“Shoot, Evans,” Sirius says nonchalantly. 

“James says you got a girlfriend,” she says. 

He cracks open the beer and takes a swig. “That’s a statement, love.”

“You’re not denying it,” she retorts, a smile creeping onto her face. 

“How come you’re talking about my lovelife with Prongs?”

Lily laughs as they return to the group.

“Talking about it is certainly one way to describe it. More like he was complaining that you haven’t brought her round yet.”

“Who hasn’t been brought around?” Mary asks, looking up from her cards. 

“Sirius got himself a proper girlfriend.”

“Proper?” Mary questions. “How proper we talking?”

“Smiling at his phone and hour-long calls,” Remus answers for Sirius.

“Oh! So this is serious!” Marlene exclaims.

“I’m always Sirius,” he replies as he plops down onto the couch next to Remus.

“So you’re going to tell us about her, yeah?” Marlene says, her voice implying it was more of a statement than a request.

The alcohol impedes his decision-making skills. So the first thing he says about you is…

“She’s on a first-name basis with the bartender at the club where we met.”

Lily chokes on her drink.

“She’s an alcoholic?” Peter gasps.

“No! No. No. She just goes, went? Goes there often. Dunno. But damn, she’s captivating as well.” He hums. “I like her. A lot.”

“He admits it!” James says, nudging Lily. “He admits it.”

“Yeah, I heard him, babe.”

“O’ course I admit it,” Sirius says a snippy. “She didn’t mind going to that cocktail cafe.”

“Still sounding like an alcoholic…” Peter murmurs.

Mary slaps his shoulder. “Be nice.”

“She likes to dance. She danced with me at the cafe,” Sirius says before taking another swig of beer. “We walked around that muggle art exhibit and she actually knew stuff ‘bout it. Like composition and whatnot. She’s smart like that.”

“Drinks, dances and knows art… Sounds like a keeper,” Remus says with a laugh.

“Do you have like cute nicknames for each other yet? Lil pet names?” Mary asks.

Sirius smiles widely. “Yeah! Well, she does for me. She has me in her phone as Trust Fund.”

The group just stares at him blankly, which wasn’t the reaction he was expecting.

“What?” 

“Trust Fund?” Lily asks, furrowing her brows. “So she’s dating you for your money?”

SIrius’ eyes go wide in realization. That nickname needed its backstory.

“No! No, Godric no. The night I met her, I told the bartender I’d pay for her entire tab before I even said hi. So she assumed I had money to fall back on and called me that all night.”

“Certainly one thing to moan in bed…” Peter mumbled, earning himself another light slap from Mary.

Sirius didn’t give him a reaction.

“And then later, she said that if she put Sirius in her phone, her brother would ask why she’s texting a star,” Sirius continued with a laugh.

The air in the room eases. 

“She knows I have a job! And she does too. Honestly, the Black fortune hasn’t come up. She’s not like that.”

“Sirius, we believe you,” Marlene says. “What is she in your phone?”

“Her name with a black heart emoji.”

“Classy,” Remus slurs.

“Shut up,” Sirius says, but his words have no bite.

He’s just smiling into his beer can. 

The next day as he’s cleaning up from game night, Sirius steps into Peter’s room. If he was going to run the dishwasher, he wanted all the dishes and Peter had a habit of hoarding his used cups. A picture of Peter’s family on vacation sitting on the dresser catches Sirius’ eye. Peter is really young in the old photo which Sirius assumes was taken sometime pre-Hogwarts. He can’t help but think the girl standing next to Peter looks vaguely familiar. He probably just recognizes her from Hogwarts, being that she is Peter’s sister, he tells himself, unable to completely place the face. He doesn’t think much of it, grabbing two rather large stacks of cups and leaving Peter’s room. 

In the kitchen, he organizes the cups into the dishwasher and starts it up. Then he moves around the living room, picking up wrappers and cans. 

“Since when do you clean up after game night?” Remus asks, leaning against the doorframe of his room. His voice is scratchy from just waking up.

Looking down at the rubbish in his hands, Sirius says, “I guess since today?”

“What’s eating your mind then?”

“Huh?”

“Padfoot, I’ve lived with you for about half my life. You’re acting like an elf. What’s going on?”

“Just thinking about her.” 

“And that has you cleaning?”

“She’s just… unreal.”

“Unreal,” Remus repeats back to him. 

“Haven’t felt like this about a girl before, Moony. All those Hogwarts girls? They don’t compare.”

Remus chuckles and stands up straighter before walking over to Sirius. He places his hands on Sirius’ shoulder.

“Sounds like you fell quick and hard, m’friend.”

“Fell…”

“If you like her more than all the girls from school… Sirius, you might be in love.”

---

“Hey, Wormtail, where you off to? I thought we were having roommate dinner?” James calls from the kitchen of the boys’ flat. 

“I told you I couldn’t tonight,” he says as he pulls on a coat. “I got that family dinner.”

“Ugh, I forgot!” James groans.

“Is it like national family dinner night or something?” Sirius asks, joining James in the kitchen. 

“Dunno, why?”

“Girlfriend’s got family dinner tonight too.”

“Speaking of,” Remus says from where he’s sat in the living room, “when do we get to meet this amazing chick?

Sirius shrugs. “Whenever I decide she’s ready to handle a game night with you bastards.”

“Alright, that’s it. I’m outtie!” Peter calls before the front door slams behind him and the rest of the boys hear the lock turn. 

“Just give us some warning before she comes over, yeah? We’ll clean up a bit,” Remus says with a wink. 

“And if it’s for a game night, we can invite the girls too!” James adds. “Lils, Marlene, Dorcas, Mary. The whole gang.”

“Yeah, and we can invite Reg, and Evan and Junior, and Pandora too. Then I’ll take her to meet my parents immediately after,” Sirius replies sarcastically.

The boys give him blank looks.

“The whole Hogwarts gang might be a bit much. You lot are a bit much, but not much I can do ‘bout that,” he explains.

“Aw, he doesn’t want to scare her off,” Remus coos, joining the other two in the kitchen.

“No, I don’t,” Sirius says firmly. “Now what are you making, Prongs? I’m getting hungry.”

“Spaghetti. Remus, what sauces we got?”

Remus opens the cupboard with a squeak. “Ah, looks like red sauce, red sauce number two, white sauce, green sauce… third red sauce.” 

“Eh. Pick one of the reds.” James looks over his shoulder at Sirius, who is leaning against the counter. “For a girl you’re obsessed with, we still don’t actually know her name.”

---

Peter’s already there when you arrive at your parents’ house. He’s talking with your dad as they set the table. Your mum is in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on dinner. 

“Smells like I arrived just in time!” you say, taking off your coat.

“I’m setting the table, you’re clearing it,” Peter informs you.

“Darling, go help your mother bring the food to the table,” your dad says.

You do help your mum set the table and you sit down as a family. Since you and Peter don’t live too far away, your parents try to have dinner once a month to catch up. Your dad rants about the people he works with. Your mum discusses the gossip from her book club. Peter starts talking about a movie that he saw with some of his roommates. 

“Oh, I saw that movie with my boyfriend!” you interject.

“You have a boyfriend?” your mum asks, clearly intrigued. “This is new!”

“Yeah, it is. Only been official for a week or so now.”

“You were going to tell us… when?” your dad asks.

You roll your eyes. “I was going to, Dad. I’m an adult, I don’t have to tell you about everyone I date.”

“There’s more?” your mum nearly exclaims.

“Not really, no, but the point is I don’t have to tell you. Until I’m sure they are sticking around for a while.”

“Yeah? You like this one?” Peter asks, putting down his fork. 

“I do, Pete. He’s a good guy.”

“Didn’t you say that about your fifth year boyfriend?”

You snort a laugh. “Don’t go bringing Diggory into this.”

“So, where did you meet this fellow?” your dad asks, trying to avoid a sibling argument. 

Peter never liked Amos Diggory and, while he had treated you kindly for a while, Amos ended up cheating on you. You shut down for a while, which you still think is a perfectly normal reaction, but Peter was concerned for his big sister. 

“Ah, um, well,” you stumble over your words. “This little cafe near my flat.”

You were not going to tell your parents that you met your boyfriend at a club. Meeting at a cafe was a much cuter scenario that kept their internal image of their pristine daughter. You assumed they knew you weren’t pristine, but it was one of those things you don’t talk about with your parents unless you have to. It was easier that way. 

“That’s nice, sweetie. Pete, you seeing anyone?” your mum asks, taking the attention off you for a moment. 

Peter blushes. “No. Been focused on work.”

“Whatever happened between you and that girl… what’s her name… She went to school with you?”

“Really narrows it down, Mum.”

“Martha?” 

“Mary?” Peter all but gasps. He blushes deeper. “Nothing ever really happened with her.”

“So that Appleby Arrows?” you ask your dad. 

Peter didn’t need to discuss a failed attempt at a relationship with your parents. The fact that they knew about it was embarrassing enough. You knew the two were still friends; from what you had heard, he wanted a relationship and she didn’t so they somehow managed to be friendly for the friend group’s sake. Peter gave you a thankful look and you both filled your mouths with your mum’s cooking as your dad started ranting about the most recent match and the horrendous officiating. 

---

“Didn’t we go to school with someone named Sirius?” Marie muses later in the week.

When you first told her your boyfriend’s name, she laughed. It’s just such an odd name, she had said. And now, she was thinking they knew someone else with that name, especially after she told Theo and he brought up school. 

“Probably? He’s a wizard living in London. I would not be surprised if he went to Hogwarts.”

“But surely we’d recognize him then.”

“I don’t know. I guess I’ll ask next time I see him. But I can’t say I really paid attention to anyone younger than us, so even if he did, it doesn’t matter.”

“I keep forgetting he’s younger!” she exclaims. “You usually go for the older dudes.”

“Older dudes go for me,” you correct her, a smile playing at your lips. “Sirius just works though, you know?”

“If he makes you happy, I’m happy. I’m not the one snogging him on our couch.”

You laugh. “At least I do it when you’re not home.”

“And I go to Theo’s.”

You clink your glasses in solidarity. 

---

You’re laying on the couch with Sirius, watching an American forensic TV show, when you remember that conversation with Marie. You figure now is as good of a time as any.

“Sirius?”

“Hm?”

“Did you go to Hogwarts?”

“Uh, yeah, I did.”

You hum. “What house were you in?”

“Gryffindor?”

“Oh! You probably know my brother then.”

“Yeah?” he says, looking down at you in his arms. “What’s his name?”

“Peter.”

Sirius sits up, forcing you out of his embrace, with his eyes wide.

“Peter as in Peter Pettigrew?”

“Yeah.”

You move out of his way as he stands up and begins pacing. You watch him, unsure of his reaction.

“Sirius?”

“I’m dating my best friend’s sister? How did… what?” 

My best friend’s sister. So that meant that he was Peter’s roommate now too. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. Sirius is pacing and muttering confused fragments to himself.

“Sirius?” 

“You’re a Pettigrew?” he asks, pausing for a moment to look at you.

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

He doesn’t answer right away. That stings. He runs a hand through his hair and starts pacing again. The girl in the photo in Peter’s room is you.

“No, it’s not a problem,” he says after a few paces. “It’s just… just… very, very unexpected?” 

You stand up and go to hold his shoulders, stopping his pacing. 

“It’s good we figured this out before we ended up at your place, yeah?”

He groans but it’s lighthearted. “Godric, that’d be embarrassing.” He pauses as he thinks. “Shit, that’s going to be embarrassing. ‘Hey, Peter. This is my girlfriend. You know her as your sister.’”

Sirius forcefully rests his forehead on your shoulder. You card your fingers through his hair to comfort him. 

“Well, it’s that or you wait for a Pettigrew family event and I introduce you as ‘Sirius, my boyfriend, and Peter’s longtime best friend.’”

“That’s not any better,” he says to your shoulder. 

“We have to tell him at some point.”

“Do we?”

“Probably. Guess it depends on how serious this is.”

“This?”

“Us.” You pause and lean backwards so Sirius has to lift his head back up. “There is still an us, right?”

“Yeah, yes, of course,” he says rushed. “Sorry, my brain is-”

“Taking it all in. Yeah.” You offer him a soft smile before it falls from your face. “Wait, so what’s your surname?”

He laughs. “Legally, Black. Sirius Orion Black. But the Potters basically adopted me when I ran away.”

“Potters… Jake or something?”

“James.”

“Ah… How did our surnames never come up?”

“You were the one who calls me Trust Fund.”

“You’re a Black!” you exclaim, dots connecting. “You are a trust fund! I knew it!”

“Dating me for my money are you?” he teases.

“You paid my tab first. That’s on you.” You lean up to kiss his nose. “And then you won me over by being irresistibly you.” 

“Aw, don’t make me blush.” 

“I think it’s my life goal now.” 

lol this has been sitting in my drafts for a while - was fun to write and polish up

[veronicaphoenix]

tangled | part ii

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x fem. reader | Words: 1.8k | Reading time: 5mins.

one shot ✨ summary: noah and his girl are babysitting nicholas' cat mimi for a couple of days before Christmas, but mimi proves to be more than a handful and noah is quickly reaching his limits as the cat wreaks havoc in the apartment.

→ Read part one here. 🎄

This is for the anon that requested a continuation 🤭 here you go, love <3

tags & trigger warnings: established relationship, christmas season, explicit sexual content (p. in v. protected, spankings, biting/sucking, grinding).

tangled | part ii ✨🎄

Noah paced the living room with Mimi in his arms, weighing his options. Where could he leave her? The laundry room? Too risky—she might claw her way into the washing machine and accidentally start it. The guest bathroom? Definitely not—she’d shred the toilet paper to confetti in seconds. The balcony? No chance—she might leap off and never be seen again. If that happened, Nicholas would absolutely murder him.

After a few laps around the coffee table, Noah sighed and set Mimi on the couch. He crouched in front of her, his large hands cradling her tiny, furry face.

“Listen to me, you little menace,” he said. Behind him, his girl stood with her hands on her hips, amused at Noah’s antics at the cat despite her own still-smoldering need for him. She bit back her laughter. “I’m going back to the bedroom,” Noah continued, staring into Mimi’s unblinking eyes. “You’re going to stay right here. You’re going to stay put. I’m going to go finish my... business with my girl. Got it? Whether it takes thirty minutes or two hours, you will not interrupt. If you do...” He paused for effect, narrowing his eyes. “...I’ll call Nick and tell him to find you another babysitter. Understood?”

Mimi blinked, then let out a soft, unimpressed meow.

“Good.” Noah straightened to his full height and turned to his girl. “You’re coming with me.”

Before she could react, he scooped her up in his arms, drawing a surprised yelp that quickly turned into laughter. He strode toward the bedroom, but out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Mimi on the couch. She was crouched, ready to pounce.

“No!”

Noah sprinted to the bedroom. Mimi lunged but missed, landing on the floor with a thud. Noah kicked the door shut with his foot, locking her out. From the other side came a volley of meows and the scratch-scratch-scratch of claws on wood. His girl shook with laughter in his arms.

“She’s relentless, jeez,” he muttered, placing her on the bed. 

He listened for signs. After a minute, the scratches stopped. Mimi had given up, it seemed. Noah let out a breath and began to tug off his joggers.

“Where were we?” he asked, a teasing smile on his lips.

She was lounging on the bed, still in his oversized t-shirt and panties. Despite the fabric separating them, Noah leaned down, pressing his hardening cock against her. A damp spot quickly formed where they touched. She arched her hips, her body seeking more friction.

“I think…” she said, “I was naked.”

“You’re right,” Noah replied, pulling the shirt over her head. He resumed his deliberate movements, rubbing himself against her in a way that made her gasp and squirm beneath him.

Unable to take the teasing, she slid her hands down to her panties, hooking her thumbs beneath the waistband and slipping them off. Propping herself on her elbows, she leaned up to capture his mouth in a sloppy kiss. Her hand snaked downward, wrapping around his length and stroking him, pumping him. Noah groaned.

Against her lips, he murmured, “I don’t think you were in this position.”

She laughed and let herself fall back onto the bed. As Noah straightened on his knees, she lifted her legs and draped them over his shoulders without his assistance.

“That’s more like it,” he said with a grin.

“And…” she continued, her voice teasing, “I think something hard was inside me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Needy for it, huh?”

She bit her lip in response. Noah shifted, grabbing another condom, rolling it in and positioning himself just right, and—

Noah slid into her smoothly, drawing moans from both of them as they adjusted to the sensation. He paused, his gaze dropping to where their bodies joined, captivated by the sight. For a moment, he was awed by how perfectly they fit together. They were made for this. 

Then, unable to resist the pull of her lips, he leaned down to cover her body with his. His mouth hovered over hers.

“I’m going to break!” she exclaimed suddenly, her voice a mix of laughter and playful alarm at the intense stretch in her legs. The position had her body bending in a way she wasn’t quite used to.

Noah smirked as he replied, “You’re so dramatic.” He stretched his neck, closing the gap to kiss her deeply, his tongue coaxing hers into a slow, teasing dance.

As she held her breath at the pull on her legs—intense, but not unbearable—Noah’s hand slid down the back of her thigh, caressing her, and then, there was a sharp, playful smack on her ass, the sound cracking through the air. The sudden sting made her gasp, her eyes snapping open in surprise.

“Did that distract you?” he asked, his tone dripping with mischief.

The shock melted into a grin as she bit her lip, her cheeks flushed. “Maybe,” she said with a breathy voice. “Do it again, and I’ll let you know.”

His grin widened, wicked and full of promise. “Careful what you wish for.”

He spanked her again, and she loved it, the sting of his hand leaving a delicious warmth that spread through her skin. 

Her breath hitched as she bit her lip when a sudden, possessive urge to claim him overtook her. She let her legs fall to the sides before wrapping them tightly around his waist. Her hands reached up to his neck, she pulled him down and then, she bit him, her teeth sinking gently into tatted skin.

Noah groaned, the sound low and primal. A moment later, she was sucking on the spot she’d bitten, her lips and tongue working against his skin as he thrust into her with measured strokes.

He hissed through his teeth, his hand tangling in her hair and pulling. She didn’t stop; she marked him, her tongue soothing over the spot, fully aware of the effect it had on him. It turned him on. The way he pulsed hard inside her only confirmed it.

“Keep doing that and…” he rasped, his voice strained, “I won’t be able to keep you entertained for more than two minutes.”

She smiled against his skin, her breath hot against the mark she’d left. “Good,” she whispered teasingly, her words a challenge as she arched into him. “I like it when you lose control.”

Noah’s answering growl was all the warning she got before he shifted his angle. He grabbed one of her legs, guiding it back onto his shoulder while keeping the other snugly wrapped around his waist. Settling back on his knees, he adjusted and continued to move purposefully before quickening his pace. From that position, he had the perfect view of her—the way he disappeared inside of her, the way her body arched, the way her lips parted with each moan, the way her breasts moved in sync with his thrusts. 

Their sounds of pleasure filled the room, mingling with the faint sounds of skin meeting skin, their bodies covered in a sheen of sweat. Noah watched her closely, enthralled by every shift in her expression, every small noise that escaped her lips. Her hands gripped the sheets before one reached out to grab his and guide it to her stomach and lower. 

He instantly understood. Pressing his palm flat against her lower belly, his thumb found her clit. And he started to trace feather-like, delicate circles that had her gasping. Her body tensed, trembling as her pleasure built to a peak.

Her head pressed back against the pillow, her eyes squeezing shut as the orgasm ripped through her, leaving her pulsing and clenching around him.

A few more hard, deliberate thrusts, and he groaned deeply, spilling into the condom as his body shuddered with his release. His movements slowed, riding out the aftershocks until they were both spent, panting and glistening with sweat.

Noah let himself collapse onto the bed beside her, one hand resting on his chest as it rose and fell with each heavy breath. For a moment, he was sure he was done for the night.

His girl had other plans.

She turned to face him, the mess between her legs a bit uncomfortable, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t finished. 

She nibbled at his freckled shoulder until he cracked an eye open.

He tilted his head toward her, a lazy smile spreading across his lips. His eyes were tired but the look on his face was one of pure satisfaction. 

She swung one leg over him, straddling his hips as she settled into his lap. His semi-hard length nestled beneath her, warm and already stirring back to life.

“Ready for another go, already?” he asked, his hands instinctively finding her waist as he watched her remove the used, sticky condom and exchange it for a new one. 

She was worse than the minx outside. His girl had the same mischievous glint in her eye as she began to grind against him, her slick wetting his cock and reigniting the fire in both of them. The mess between them only made it hotter.

Noah grunted low in his throat, the sight of her moving atop him—her head tipping back, her lips parting to release quiet moans—was enough to send a jolt of arousal straight to his core.

“You said minimum thirty minutes,” she stated, her voice breathy as she continued to wiggle her hips, chasing her own pleasure. “Maybe two hours. It’s not even been ten minutes.”

“You’re so demanding,” he joked, his fingers digging into her skin. 

“You like it,” she replied. 

“Damn right I do. We better start making the minutes count.”

“I am,” she moaned, her breath hitching as she shifted just right, the friction making her thighs tremble.

Noah’s eyes darkened, the teasing gleam replaced with raw hunger. In one fluid motion, he sat up, his hand tangling in her hair. He tugged her head back, exposing her neck to him, and leaned in close. His lips brushed her ear as he growled, “Yes, you are.”

And then he sank his teeth into her neck, claiming her all over again.

Outside, Mimi had successfully clawed open a packet of flour she’d found on the kitchen counter. A white cloud puffed into the air, settling on her fur as she pranced and meowed happily.

Taglist:

@amelia-acero | @alwaysfightforwhoyouare | @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning | @somebodyels3 | @respectfulrebel | @lacy1986 <3

[cellythefloshie]

;; A Secret for Christmas 𝓗𝓪𝓹𝓹𝔂 𝓗𝓸𝓵𝓲𝓭𝓪𝔂𝓼 from cellythefloshie

Summary: Katie had long abandoned trying to search for new romance, especially during the holiday season. But when her son’s teammate, Jeremy Swayman, joins them for the holidays, Katie can't ignore the memory of the night they once shared together in Boston a year prior. Will Jeremy’s persistence chip away at her defenses? Will Katie risk it all for a chance at a lust she never expected? Sequel to: Mama Bear. Kinks & Tropes: Age Gap (24 v. 41). Divorcee. Alcohol Consumption. Secret Hookup. Protected Sex. - If I missed something, yell at me. ABOUT THE OC’s: Katherine: AKA Katie. Face Claim: Bryce Dallas Howard. 40's. Mother of Parker Waylon-Stacy. Parker: Face Claim: Michael Provost. Boston Bruin's Forward. Dorthey: AKA Dottie. Face Claim: Kate Hudson. Best friend of Katherine. Word Count: 13k+ A/N: Another year has passed, and in almost that exact time, we return to Katie and Jeremy. I am not lying to you when I say that this fic has been planned since January. It has been a painful wait for me to have to wait to write/post this. For months I would return to my outline and read it with great excitement. I am so deeply satisfied to be able to finally share this with you all, and to have this fic be the last one I will write for 2024. (Though, a New Years fic has been queued, this is the last one I will be writing until 2025). I hope you're just as excited to return to Jeremy as I was! --- This fic was minimally edited.

Christmas didn’t feel like Christmas anywhere but home, Katie thought as she sat in bumper to bumper traffic, her hands wringing at the steering wheel. A symphony of honks sung their carols around her, but they went unheard as she daydreamed of home. 

The stockings hung in their usual spots, their names stitched neatly in gold thread—hers and Parker’s. She could almost hear his small voice from when he was just a boy, asking if Santa would really know to leave presents if they didn’t have a chimney.

Every corner of her home was dusted with memories—Parker’s laugh echoing down the halls, the smell of cookies burning when she got distracted by Dottie and the kids in the living room, the way he used to shake the snow off his boots, leaving puddles by the door. 

But this year, those memories were left behind, but not forgotten as Parker wasn't going to be able to come home for Christmas. The Bruins had a game the night before Christmas Eve, and they’d hit the road again just four days later. Katie had been forced to choose between the traditions she treasured and something new. As Stubborn as she was, there was never really a choice. She would always choose Parker. 

The drive to the grocery store and back took nearly two hours—a journey that gave Katie plenty of time to dwell on Parker’s idea of a "family holiday." When he’d told her he’d rented a house big enough for everyone, she hadn’t asked many questions. She trusted her son. But that trust began to waver at 5 a.m. on the morning of her flight when Dottie showed up at her door with her husband and her kids all left waiting in their Escalade. 

“Surprise!” Dottie had chirped, her tone almost too cheery to handle before a cup of coffee. But Katie smiled all the same. Having her best friend with her for the holidays, especially when she would have to deal with her ex, was a gift all in itself. 

And the surprises didn’t end there. 

For the entirety of the flight, Katie couldn’t fathom how Parker imagined cramming all eight of them into an Airbnb. But when the car pulled up to the property, Katie’s jaw dropped. This wasn’t some tiny apartment or cramped rental house. It was a sprawling villa, complete with a wide wraparound porch, floor to ceiling windows  and twinkling lights that sparkled in the crisp winter air.

The beauty of the home still left Katie in awe as she pulled up in front of it for the second time. The driveway curved through a yard blanket edge by freshly fallen snow. Snow that crackled beneath the slow roll of the car's tires until they  eased into a stop in front of the garage door. Katie leaned her back against the headrest, admiring how Christmas lights reflected off the snow capped roof. Smiling proudly at what Parker was able to accomplish, she turned slightly to look over at Dottie who sat in the passenger seat. 

Her phone was out, her fingers tapping feverishly against her phone as she tried to finish the work assignment she had promised not to touch when the plane landed in Boston. Katie shook her head slowly, her smile growing wider. There were two things Dottie would be doing from the grave, her final work assignment and polishing off an expensive bottle of chardonnay. Because while she worked hard, Dottie played harder. 

“You done?” Katie raised a brow up at her best friend, “because I'm not letting you touch it again once we get inside.”

Dottie was quiet for a moment, a small sigh rocking her shoulders before she let her eyes leave the bright glow of the phone screen. 

“Alright, alright, I'm done enough,” Dottie assured, her thumbs hovering over the screen as if she wanted to write just one word more. 

“Done enough?” Katie half laughed, “Last time I heard that I found you hiding in the bathroom at the twins hockey game.” 

Dottie laughed, raising her hands up in mock surrender, “I promise you won't find me hiding this time. Work-free holiday starts as soon as we pop the wine.”

“Then I guess we should get inside and open up a bottle,” Katie smiled and watched as Dottie tucked her phone away in her purse to free up her hands. They had a lot to bring in, and they were both firm believers in taking all the groceries in one trip. 

Fresh snow kissed Katie’s bare ankles as she stepped out of the car, the drifts spilling over her boots with every hurried step toward the front door. Dottie followed close behind, both of them cradling paper bags threatening to topple with each stride. A shiver climbed Katie’s spine as she stomped up the steps, rushing to the unlocked door she couldn’t open with her full hands.

Her boot met the door in three swift kicks, and as it swung open, a gust of warmth greeted her cold, rosy cheeks. 

“Thank you,” she spoke in a sing-songy tone as she was met by Parker's smile that quickly faltered. 

“Mom, you gotta stop doing this. You could have gotten me to help carry this in,” he pleaded with her, a single arm scooping on the bags from her hold. She hated it when he looked at her like that. Like she was frail. Incapable. Old. 

“I'm forty-one Parker, not a hundred. I can still carry in the groceries. Besides, Dottie helped,” Katie spoke pointedly as she stepped out of her shoes and led the way into the large kitchen that was like it was out of a dream. From the dark green walls and ebony cabinetry to the stacked ovens complete with French doors, Katie was going to be the last to complain about having to cook nearly twelve meals for eight people over the three days they would be spending in the home. 

“We've got more than enough hands here, Mom,” Parker continued as he placed the bag down on the marble countertops. “Between me and-” 

His words were broken by the slamming of the front door. Katie's neck quickly snapped in the direction of the sound. They hadn't abandoned Dottie. She stood beside her, her arm already lost in the depths of the paper bag as she blindly searched for one of their bottles of wine. Her brows furrowed as she leaned over the counter, craning her neck to see who's heavy steps clunked over the hardwood floors. 

Her face fell into a frown when her ex-husband, Ronnie, came into view, his winter boots and jacket still on and his arms carrying an array of luggage. Not once, during their twenty years of marriage, had he been so chivalrous as to carry her bags or help her with her groceries. Katie’s face fell into a sneer, there was no hiding it. 

“Dad! You made it,” Parker smiled as he stepped away from the counter to meet his dad who struggled with the bags. 

Monica strutted in behind them, her smile wide as she caught up with Ronnie. Her arms opened as she stepped towards Parker, taking her into an embrace he didn’t seem eager to return. Katie caught the tightness in Parker’s jaw, as he offered a half-hearted pat on her back. She knew he was trying–for Ronnie’s sake, if nothing else–but it was clear Monica hadn’t won him over. 

“By what miracle were they not going to make it?” Katie mumbled under her breath to Dottie who turned and hid her smile in the fridge as she started to put the groceries away. 

“Snow storm?” Dottie hummed. 

“Plane crash,” Katie bit out, sending Dottie into a laughter she could not contain. 

“So we’re not playing nice this weekend?” Dottie arched a brow, her voice laced with curiosity.

Katie smirked, her tone dry. “To their faces, sure.”

Dottie chuckled, shaking her head. “You know that makes you sound terrible, right?”

“There’s only so much fake smiling I can manage before I break something,” Katie said with a shrug.

With her back turned to the doorway, Katie worked with Dottie to fill the empty cupboards and the fridge with the groceries they bought from the store. Soon, the kitchen looked like someone called it home, and it was only the turkey left to put away. Cradling it in her arms, Katie opened the fridge, only to find another turkey sitting on the top shelf. 

“We didn’t buy two turkeys did we?” Katie asked, her brows falling in confusion. 

“No, we just got the big one,” Dottie confirmed, her one hand wrapped around the neck of a wine bottle as she searched for a bottle opener. 

“Then what’s this?” Katie stepped to the side and did her best to gesture the turkey with her full hands.

Dottie shrugged, and Katie let out a sigh. Was it horrible that they had two turkeys? No, but it was making Katie question her sanity because it wasn’t in there when they left for the store. 

“Parker? Where’d you get this other turkey?” She called out, but her son didn’t hear her. He no longer stood in the doorway with his father and Monica. He was lost somewhere in the house – probably showing them to their room - or maybe, he was the source of the laughter she could hear in the living room. 

Placing the turkey down in the fridge next to the other, Katie closed up the fridge and followed the shill laughter of Dottie’s twins, and the thunder of footsteps against the hardwood floor. She walked through the entryway, her socks getting wet from the trail of her husband’s footprints. If she was still his wife, she would have nagged him to clean up the mess he had created, but she promised herself that she wouldn’t let his bad habits get to her over the holidays. Instead she walked right through them, leaving her own soggy footprints behind as she walked to the living room. 

“Whoa,” her lips fell open in awe at the sight of the large Christmas tree that stood in the corner of the room, just to the right of the fireplace that blazed with the dance of fire. That hadn’t been there before they left either. Its branches were still free of ornaments, but the glimmer of white lights set it aglow.

“When did Parker have time for all of this?” Dottie gasped out from behind her, pushing past to stand with Brandon and Brayden who knelt on the floor, opening up the boxes of brand new ornaments. 

“He didn’t,” Megan said, her voice drifting lazily from where she was curled up in an armchair by the fire. “Jeremy did.”

Katie’s attention snapped to the teenager, whose wistful gaze was fixed on the snow falling softly outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. The faint, dreamy sigh that followed spoke volumes. Katie didn’t need to ask—she recognized that tone all too well. But Katie couldn’t give herself time to dwell on it, her body had already gone still at the realization of what Megan had said. 

Suddenly she was hot, sweating, with nerves as her stomach jumped up into her throat. She had to have heard her wrong. Megan hasn’t said Jeremy. She couldn’t have. Katie refused to believe it, it must have been her mind playing tricks on her. 

“Where’s,” Katie's mouth was dry, and she paused, forced to swallow, “Megan, where’s Parker?”

“Upstairs with Uncle Ronnie,” Megan waved off, her eyes falling back to her book. 

Katie moved quickly, taking the stairs two at a time despite her arms feeling heavy and her legs unsteady. The laughter from the living room faded as her pulse roared in her ears. When she reached the landing, she blindly collided with a solid figure. 

Two strong hands caught her by the arms, steadying her before she could stumble back. Katie held her breath as she shut her eyes, praying to whoever would listen, that she had run into Parker, or for the first time in years, she wished that she had collided with her husband. But she knew it wasn’t either of them. 

She didn’t need to look to know who it was holding her so carefully in place. She’d feel this touch before– gentle but firm, it was a comforting touch she’d never forgotten. On so many nights it had crept into her dreams, leaving her craving more but Katie had told herself she could never feel again.

“Mom!” Parker’s voice broke through her thoughts, his concern heavy as he came up behind the figure that still held her. “Are you okay?”

Katie swallowed hard, her mouth dry as she let herself look up. Jeremy towered over her with a soft smile, and just past him was her son. 

“I’m fine,” she managed to say, her voice softer than she’d expected. 

Jeremy’s hands lingered for just a moment longer before they fell away. She felt the absence of them instantly, the cool air of the house passing over her skin in the absence of his warmth.  

“I just… Megan mentioned we had a guest?” Katie’s voice wavered, but she steadied it with a quick breath. 

“Oh, yeah,” Parker said, his grin sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry mom. Sway’s staying with us for Christmas. I thought it would be okay.”

Katie blinked, her stomach tightening. Of course it wasn’t okay, but on the surface, she had to pretend that it was. Because if it wasn’t, Parker would ask why and Katie would never be able to answer him…

Jeremy spoke, his tone warm, “I brought an extra turkey, and set up the tree, anything else you need, Ms. Stacey, just let me know. It’s the least I could do.”

Katie’s legs pressed firm together as his words, suddenly feeling weak right through to her very core. To anyone else, it would have sounded like Jeremy was being kind, but Katie knew that anything truly meant anything.

“Thank you, Jeremy. That’s very thoughtful. If you’ll excuse me, I should start dinner.”

She descended slowly, her mind spinning. Each step felt heavier than the last, her composure threatening to slip as she reached the bottom.

Dottie was waiting for her at the bottom of the steps. Her wide eyes met Katie’s as the twins chattered excitedly about the tree. No words passed between them, they didn’t need to, not when Katie’s eyes said it all. 

Yes, this was Jeremy. The Jeremy she had slept with for just a year before. Back when he had been nothing more than a stranger to her– and before she discovered he was the goaltender for his son’s hockey team. 

Dottie gave her a knowing look as she directed her twins towards the living room. “Go help Parker with the tree. Mom’s going to help Aunt Katie,” she said, falling into stride behind Katie. 

They said nothing, the kitchen quiet except for the soft hum of the refrigerator and distant laughter from the next room. Among them, she could hear Jeremy’s laugh, a sound Katie had once thought she would never hear again. 

The bottle of wine thudded against the countertop as Dottie uncorked it with practiced ease. She didn’t ask questions, she didn’t push, just poured two glasses and slid one into Katie’s waiting hand. 

Katie wrapped her fingers around the glass, staring down at the swirling red liquid as if it could solve all her problems. Taking a long steady sip, Katie drowned her senses in the flavor of the sweet red wine and tried to  ignore just how complicated her Christmas had become.

The warm glow of the chandelier above the dinner table bathed Katie in soft light as laughter and clatter of silverware filled the room. Brayden and Brandon, full of boundless energy, captivated everyone’s attention, and Katie couldn’t help but smile as she watched them. Christmas Eve was everything she had hoped for—a cozy, festive evening with her family, even if her definition of family included her ex-husband, his new wife, and her son’s teammate, Jeremy.

Despite the cheerful atmosphere that had fallen around the table, Katie couldn’t ignore the knot that tightened in her stomach. Jeremy’s presence, as he sat directly across from her, was both thrilling and unsettling. When he had joined them, he’d offered a soft smile, his voice low and warm as he spoke. “Everything looks great” he had said, and his gaze lingered just long enough to make her breath catch, before reaching for a dinner roll. Katie had nodded, a tight smile tugging at her lips, the brief exchange sending a ripple of warmth through her that she quickly tried to ignore. And she was thankful for his quiet demeanor. He didn’t ask questions, didn’t seem to push for conversation, and she appreciated that more than she expected. 

Katie kept her attention on her plate, chewing slowly and forcing herself to smile when someone looked her way. Though, it was hard to ignore the site across the table. Megan had seated herself next to Jeremy, and was leaning in close to him as she spoke in a soft whisper. Whatever she had said, Katie couldn’t quite hear, and Jeremy responded with a polite but brief nod before returning his attention back to his plate. The poor girl was doing her best to get Jeremy’s attention, but it was already devoted to Katie, though she was trying to ignore that fact. She avoided looking directly at Jeremy, but when she did, his gaze was always there, steady, like he was waiting for her to look back. And when they did meet, they met briefly, Katie’s pulse hastening as she found herself glancing away quickly, as if caught off guard by his quiet intensity. 

Instead of letting her eyes linger on Jeremy, she turned her gaze to Ronnie, seated at the head of the table, and Monica, who sat at his side, basking in the center of attention. 

Monica’s voice rose about the rest, her stories even louder than the laughter of the twins as they were entertained by Jeremy. "Ronnie’s taking me to the Maldives after the holidays," she said, pushing her blonde hair with a casual toss. As she did, the light caught Monica’s oversized diamond ring, its glimmer flashing in Katie’s eyes.

Katie’s gaze flickered to her own left hand, tracing the memory of the simpler rings Ronnie had given her– the ones that were never as big, or never as extravagant as Monica’s. They hadn’t had the money for such luxuries, or for the kinds of trips Monica seemed to collect like trophies. Watching Ronnie’s lavish midlife crisis, and his new wife with all the things they never had, made Katie’s shoulders slouch forward. Choking back a sigh, she reached for the bottle of wine at the center of the table.

The motion drew Monica’s sharp eye, like an eagle flying high above her prey. Her voice cut through the hum of conversation. "We were so sad when you couldn’t come to the wedding, Katie," she said, her tone pitched just loud enough for everyone to hear. "It was such a beautiful ceremony. You would’ve loved it."

Katie’s stomach churned, but she forced a smile, her eyes darting briefly to Ronnie, hoping for some sign that he’d put a stop to it. "I’m sure it was lovely—" she began, but Monica didn’t let her finish.

With a flourish, Monica extended her arm across the table, wiggling her fingers. "Look how gorgeous this ring is," she said, her smile gleaming, "And this is just my travel ring."

Katies brows knit together as her jaw slacked. "Travel ring?" Her words faltered, her mind scrambling for a response. She looked from Monica’s beaming face, to Dottie–but there was also something pulling her attention toward Jeremy—his eyes on her again, his lips slightly parted as if he had something to say but was waiting for her to speak first.

Her heart stuttered, and for a moment, the noise around her faded, leaving only the sensation of his gaze. Katie’s gaze lingered on him for a moment, before she pulled them away and looked to her ex husband with a pleading stare, silently begging him to get Monica to stop. 

"Oh yes, isn’t it wonderful?" Monica beamed. "Ronnie is so thoughtful. But don’t worry, Katie. One day, someone will love you as much as he loves me."

The sudden crash of silverware on a plate made Katie flinch, and she turned to see Parker, his dinner abandoned, and his hand dropped to his side in two fists. He leaned forward, his voice thick with disgust. “You know who you’re fucking talking to right?” 

Katie’s heart swelled with pride, but she quickly tamped it down though she wanted nothing more than to smile. She was so proud of him for so many things, but nothing made him prouder than this. She wanted to applaud him, but she couldn’t. Not now, not at Christmas when she needed everyone to get along. She shot him a soft look, her words a low but firm plea for calm, “Parker, language.”

Parker didn’t back down. “Mom seriously? She can’t say that kind of shit to you.”

He was right. Monica shouldn’t be saying anything like that. Not to her. No ever. The tensions between them were the highest they had been since they met, and it was clear that no amount of effort on Monica’s part would change that dynamic with Parker, not after everything. 

“Mom,” Parker spoke insistently, waiting for his mother to say anything to defend herself. 

Katie sighed and topped off her glass of wine, her gaze flickered briefly to her son. “She’s right Parker,” she said quietly. “She and your father are very much in love. It should be celebrated. Not all are so lucky to find love so late in their lives… or so early.” She punctuated the words with a long sip of wine, and from the other end of the table, Dottie’s soft laugh echoed through the tension. 

As the laughter faded, so did the conversation and the table fell into silence. The clink of forks and knives returned, and any words said were exchanged in whispers. Katie’s chest tightened as she took another sip of her wine, her fingers gripping the glass a little too tightly.  The sting of Monica’s words still lingered below the surface. Katie wasn’t sure what she had expected when she agreed to sitting down with everyone for dinner but it certainly wasn’t this– a cocktail of bitterness and forced civility. 

Her gaze wandered the table: Parker sat stiffly beside her, his fork clenched in his fist as he stabbed at his food. Ronnie and Monica whispered conspiratorially, their heads close together, while Dottie and Ben coaxed their kids to eat a few more bites.

Katie’s eyes stopped on Megan, leaning toward Jeremy with a bright smile. “If that happened to me, I think I’d die of embarrassment,” she said, her voice carrying just enough for Katie to catch it.

Jeremy didn’t respond. He didn’t even look at Megan. His gaze was elsewhere, steady and unflinching—on Katie. Not with pity or judgment, but quiet understanding. He shifted slightly, closing himself off from Megan’s proximity and angling toward Katie instead. The subtle movement felt deliberate, almost protective.

Katie’s breath caught, and she quickly looked away, her eyes falling to her empty wine glass. She wasn’t going to get through the night sober.

Blindly reaching for the bottle, her trembling fingers brushed against something warm. She froze, realizing it was Jeremy’s hand, just as he reached for the same bottle. His touch was barely there–just the faintest of feelings as they had met by accident. 

Katie watched as his thick fingers coiled around the neck of the bottle and poured himself more wine. But his touch had lingered just long enough that Katie could still feel it, as the legs of his chair squealed against the floor. Jeremy stood slowly, his expression neutral, as he reached out across the table and filled her glass with wine. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Jeremy didn’t reply, just settled back in his chair with a quiet confidence that made her chest feel less tight. But then, as he sat, she felt the faintest pressure against her ankle. His foot, deliberate and slow, traced a line up her calf before retreating. 

Katie’s breath hitched, her grip on her wine glass beginning to falter as it suddenly felt heavy in her hand. It dropped to the table before she could try to catch it, the sound of the shatter had Katie snapping back to reality. 

“I’m sorry,” Katie gasped, scrambling to cover the spill with her napkin as if it would stop it from bleeding into the table cloth. 

“Mom, are you okay?” Parker asked quickly, his hand joining the mess of napkins at the center of the table. 

Katie forced a smile, her voice shaking, “Yes, just clumsy tonight.”

Dottie chimed in, her tone calm and reassuring. “It’s the stress,” Dottie was quick to say, “I keep telling you– what do I keep telling you?”

Katie nodded, grateful for the lifeline Dottie had thrown her. “It’s the stress,” she echoed, her gaze briefly meeting Jeremy’s before it dropped down to the table. 

From beside her, Parker leaned across the table, toward Jeremy, his voice carrying just enough for Katie to hear. “Mom and Dottie are weird like that—you’ll get used to it.”

It was almost enough to draw a genuine smile from her, almost. She brushed her hair back, her fingers lingering against her temples as if she could rub away the growing headache. “I think I’ll turn in early,” she murmured, her voice fragile but resolute.

“You should,” Parker said, his tone firm in the way only a son looking out for his mother could be. “There’s a hot tub out back—just go relax. We’ll take care of everything here.”

Katie hesitated, her instinct to refuse warring with the exhaustion pulling at her shoulders. She reached out, smoothing Parker’s hair with a soft touch. “Thank you, sweetheart,” she said, her voice thick with emotion she didn’t dare let show.

As she pushed back her chair and rose, she felt Jeremy’s eyes on her again—steady, watchful. She avoided meeting his gaze, but as she turned to leave, her steps faltering slightly, his quiet presence lingered behind her like an unspoken promise.

In the hall, the muffled sounds of the table faded, replaced by the echo of her own breathing. Katie pressed her palm flat against the cool wall, closing her eyes for a moment. Maybe the hot tub wasn’t a bad idea after all. She just needed to find a way to let the tension in her chest dissolve, even if it was only temporary.

And as she walked toward the back door, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Jeremy would somehow end up being part of that reprieve, whether she wanted him to be or not.

The crisp winter air nipped at Katie’s cheeks as she stepped onto the back deck, her breath curling in soft, misty clouds in front of her. She pulled her robe tighter around her body, the crunch of snow underfoot lost on her ears as she heard the sound of bubbling water ahead.

The hot tub was a small oasis in the frigid night, steam rising in soft tendrils against the dark sky. Katie hesitated at the edge, her eyes scanning the yard for any sign of life, but it was quiet, save for the occasional creak of the house settling. She exhaled slowly, peeling off the layers she’d brought with her until she was left in her swimsuit.

The water welcomed her like an old friend, the heat seeping into her muscles as she sank into its depths with a sigh. For the first time that evening, the tension in her shoulders began to melt away, replaced by a soothing warmth that wrapped around her like a blanket.

She settled into the corner, facing the sliding glass doors that led back into the house. The glow from inside cast a soft light across the deck, but it felt distant, as though she had managed to leave all the chaos and noise behind.

The sound of the water bubbling and the gentle rustle of wind through the trees dulled her senses. She leaned her head back, the steam curling around her face, and closed her eyes. For just a moment, she let herself drift, the night wrapping her in its stillness.

Katie let the calm envelop her, wrapping around her like a cocoon. For the first time since her plane had lifted off that morning, she felt at peace. She savored it, knowing it was fleeting—knowing it would dissolve the moment she slid the door open and stepped back into the noise of children’s laughter, Monica’s relentless self-importance, and the inevitable chaos of Christmas.

"You don’t have to go back inside yet," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the steady hum of the water. She felt the tension creeping back into her shoulders at the mere thought of rejoining the fray, but she pushed it down, letting the warmth of the water soothe her nerves.

Just as she began to reclaim the fleeting relief, the sharp sound of the sliding door broke the stillness. Her heart sank. With a sigh, she cracked her eyes open, fully expecting to see Dottie or Parker checking on her. But the figure stepping into the glow of the deck lights wasn’t who she expected.

It was Jeremy.

Her body tensed, her calm shattered in an instant. She shot upright, the sudden motion sending ripples across the surface of the water, the heat lapping against her skin. He walked toward her, his long strides careful, purposeful. Each step followed the faint path he had left in the snow, his breath visible in the cold air.

Katie’s pulse quickened. A part of her wanted to sink below the surface, to disappear into the steam and pretend he hadn’t found her sanctuary. But she couldn’t move—his presence rooted her in place.

He stopped just short of the tub, crouching in the snow until he was at her eye level. For a moment, he said nothing, just held her gaze with an intensity that made her breath hitch. Then, without a word, he extended his hand, offering her a glass of wine.

“I don’t think I should have another,” Katie told him, sinking deeper into the water, until it was only her head that bobbed above the surface. 

Jeremy smirked, holding the glass just out of her reach. “Considering your last one ended up all over the table, I don’t think this one will hurt.” 

Her arm emerged cautiously from the water, ripping the surface as she reached for the glass. Their fingers brushed, and this time, neither of them pulled away. They both held the glass, a sudden grounding force that had Katie easing herself out of the water. Her swimsuit clung to her skim, emphasizing the soft curves of her body. For a moment, and his warm eyes dragged over her body,  Jeremy looked as though he might climb in, fully dressed. 

But instead, he leaned in closer, his voice low and intimate, meant for her ears alone. “You left the dinner table because of me, didn’t you?”

Katie’s face flushed red hot. 

“There were many reasons I didn’t want to be seated at that table,” she said, her voice steady despite the way his gaze held her captive. For the first time all evening, she didn’t look away. Instead she allowed herself a moment to take him in–the quiet intensity of his eyes, the subtle curve of his lips, and the he seemed entirely at ease yet so focused on her.

“You weren’t one of them” she continued, her tone softening. 

Jeremy’s grin deepened, soft but unmistakably wicked. "Good, because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since you walked in tonight."

Her pulse quickened, the admission sending a ripple through her resolve. But she managed to hold her ground, her voice quieter now. "We can’t… do this."

Jeremy’s grin turned playful, though his eyes remained serious. “Dottie and Parker were busy in the kitchen-”

“You know that’s not what I meant, Jeremy,” Katie said, her tone growing firmer. 

“I know,” he admitted, exhaling as he let the glass fall into her hold alone. Then, he sat himself down on the hard plastic of the hot tub. His hand dipped down into the water, swirling it idly. “Anything else I can do to help you relax?”

Katie hesitated, gripping the rim of the tub as if it would keep her from doing anything stupid. “We can’t,” she repeated. 

“Why not? You didn’t seem to have any problem with us before.”

Her breath hitched. “I didn’t know who you were before.”

Jeremy’s brow lifted, his smirk returning. “Oh, so you only sleep with strangers, that’s it? Kinky.”

“No, no that’s not-” Katie stammered, her words tangling her tongue as she tried to protest. 

“Is it that you think I’m too young for you?” Jeremy pressed, his teasing tone refusing to let up. 

Katie groaned, the sound low and frustrated. His words hit a nerve. Her chest tightened at the thought—how similar their relationship was to the one Ronnie had with Monica. She hated that she could compare herself  to the man who had once made her feel small and uncertain of herself.

“I knew you were younger,” she shot back. 

“Then I don’t see the-”

Her voice dropped, heavy with finality. “I don’t sleep with my son’s friends.”

“That’s a shame,” Jeremy spoke, his tone low and edged with humor, “you would’ve been the perfect gift for me to unwrap for the first night of Hannukah.” Slowly, Jeremy pushed himself to his feet, and brushed the snow from his pants as he prepared to leave. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me, Katie.”

With that, Jeremy turned, retracing his footprints back into the house. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Katie alone once more. She stared down at the wine glass in her hand, watching it swirl as she twisted it between her fingers. The dark liquid swirled hypnotically, tempting her into taking a sip, to dull the tensions that crept back into her shoulders. But she knew better. Wine had a way of loosening her resolve, and the last thing she needed was to make the same mistake twice. 

Katie tipped the glass, slowly pouring it into the snow. The deep red stained the pristine white, fading to pink as the liquid seeped in. She smiled softly at the colors, a fleeting moment of calm, until the door creaked open again, followed by an exaggerated gasp.

“I can’t believe you just wasted perfectly good wine,” Dottie explained, her tone somewhere between mock horror and genuine disapproval.

Katie chucked, shaking her head without looking back., “How long have you been watching from the window?”

“The whole time,” Dottie smiled devilishly, “Thought you and lover boy were about to give me a show.”

Katie groaned, sinking further into the warmth of the hot tub. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m the best,” Dottie corrected, perching on the edge of the tub like a cat ready to pounce. “So? What did he say?”

“Nothing appropriate,” Katie groaned, leaning back in the comforting warmth of the hot tub. 

“I like him!” Dottie announced with a grin. 

“Of course you do,” Katie deadpanned.

“So you’re going to bang, right?”

“Dottie!”

“What?” Dottie said innocently, though her grin only grew. “He’s hot, he’s into you, and you’re clearly into him. Win-win.”

“He’s Parker’s friend,” Katie reminded her, her face falling into a semblance of a frown. “And practically his age. If Parker ever found out… he’d never talk to me again. It can’t  happen, not here, not now. Especially not here, not at Christmas.”

Dottie’s teasing expression softened. “I get it. I  do,” she said, her tone gentler. “Parker’s your whole world. He’s been it since the moment he was born. Your number one priority, and he’s done all of this for us this year because of what you’ve sacrificed to get him here–a loveless marriage, a career that paid well but wasn’t your dream job. You’ve sacrificed everything for that boy. Just once, can’t you put yourself first? For me? Please.” Dottie punctuated her words with a soft pout. 

Katie sighed, reaching for her robe as she climbed out of the hot tub. The icy air hit her like a slap, sending a shiver down her spine. “It’s not that simple, Dot,” Katie said, pulling her robe tightly around her. “This isn’t like buying a purse at TJ Maxx as a treat or not going to my ex-husband’s wedding.”

“No,” Dottie agreed, “It’s so much better. He’s a good guy, Katie”

“I know he is.”

“And a good lay,” Dottie spoke pointedly, as if Katie needed to be reminded. 

Katie froze, her cheeks heating despite the cold. The memory of Boston was etched in her mind–the way Jeremy’s hand felt on her skin, the heat of his lips on hers. It had been intoxicated, a high she hadn’t been able to replicate since. 

“He was,” Katie admitted quietly. 

“And the opportunity may never come again. So why waste it?” Dottie challenged one last time, before she was gone, disappearing into the house. 

Katie stood there for a moment, staring after her friend. By the time Katie reached the door, her mind was racing. She knew Parker was reason enough to say no, but deep down, she couldn’t help but wonder how much longer she could keep saying no– to Jeremy, and to herself. 

Katie stood in front of the mirror in her room, twisting a damp strand of hair around her finger. The heat from the hot tub had left her skin pink and glowing, a small consolation after the tension-filled evening. She sighed, pulling on the soft flannel pajamas she’d bought for everyone weeks ago—a coordinated tradition she’d insisted on, despite Parker’s protests about dragging family traditions across the country for Christmas.

Everyone except Jeremy.

She tugged at the sleeves of her red-and-green plaid top, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles as her mind lingered on him. If she’d known he’d be here, she might’ve sent him a pair too. Or maybe not. Matching pajamas felt too… intimate.

Katie shook her head, banishing the thought as she grabbed the pile of neatly wrapped presents from the top of the dresser. She’d even bought one for Monica, a gesture that left a sour taste in her mouth. The wretched woman didn’t deserve a gift—not when Jeremy, so sweet and thoughtful, would go without. Her frown deepened as she glanced at each tag one last time before heading upstairs.

The Christmas tree’s glow bathed the living room in soft, warm light. The house had grown quiet, the others retreating to their rooms as the night stretched on. Katie knelt by the tree, arranging her presents carefully beneath the branches. Her fingers lingered on a ribbon as she gazed at the growing pile of gifts.

This was supposed to be a time for joy, for family, for simple traditions. But tonight felt different—complicated, like an invisible thread pulling her toward something she wasn’t sure she wanted.

With a sigh, she padded downstairs to her room, her bare feet quiet against the cold floor. She wasn’t ready for bed, not yet. Not when there were a few stolen moments left for herself.

Grabbing her book from her bag, Katie settled into the basement’s common area. Beyond the bathroom door, she heard the shower running, but she paid it no mind. The soft pages of her book soon drew her in, offering an escape from the thoughts she wasn’t ready to face.

Katie wasn’t sure how long she’d been sitting there—minutes or hours, time blurred by the quiet escape of her book. She didn’t look up until light spilled into the room, stretching across the floor and casting her shadow. 

“Parker, is that you?” she called softly, tilting her head to catch a glimpse of the figure beyond the bathroom door.

Katie’s gaze drifted upward, and at first, all she saw was the stretch of a shadow across the floor, long and shifting as if testing its reach. Her breath caught as the figure emerged from the light—a broad silhouette that sent a prickle of heat to her cheeks before her mind even registered who it was.

Jeremy stepped into view, a towel slung low around his hips, his hair damp and dripping. The droplets of water rolled down Jeremy’s chest, catching the light in a way that made her stomach twist. He didn’t seem to notice her staring—or maybe he did, and he was just taking his time, leaning casually against the doorframe as if oblivious to the effect he was having on her. Katie’s breath hitched, her earlier curiosity replaced by a sudden wish she’d stayed silent.

At first, neither of them moved. The hum of the bathroom light buzzed faintly, a subtle intrusion into the heavy stillness between them. Katie swallowed hard, the weight of his gaze pressing down on her as if daring her to speak first. Her mouth opened, words poised on her tongue, but nothing came out. Her brain screamed at her to look away, to act normal, but her eyes betrayed her, tracing the path of a water droplet as it slid down his collarbone and disappeared beneath the edge of the towel.

“Didn’t realize anyone was still up,” Jeremy said, his voice low as he ran a hand through his wet hair. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” Katie replied, holding up her book. “Needed a distraction to wind down.”

“A distraction from what?” he asked, stepping closer, one hand securing the towel at his waist.

“Everything,” she admitted, closing the book and setting it aside.

“Even me?” Jeremy’s voice was softer now, a faint edge of something unreadable in his tone.

“Especially you,” She didn’t mean for it to sound like a confession, but the way his brow lifted told her he’d heard it that way.

Rising from her chair, Katie moved toward him, her pulse quickening as the space between them disappeared. “I feel bad. If I’d known you were coming, I would’ve…”

“Would’ve what?”

“Gotten you a gift to unwrap,” she said, her words catching on a breath. For a moment, she hesitated, the tension between them thick and unspoken. “But I guess…” Her lips curled into a small, teasing smile. “I’ll have to do.”

“Come here,” Jeremy murmured, his voice barely audible, and before she could decide whether to step back or lean in, his hand moved—leaving the towel at his hips precariously loose.

Her stomach fluttered as his fingers found her waist, warm and firm through the thin flannel of her pajamas. The fabric bunched beneath his touch, the sensation sending a shiver skimming down her spine.

Jeremy lifted her effortlessly, the movement fluid and sure, his strength impossible to ignore as her pulse quickened. Katie’s breath caught, her hands instinctively finding his shoulders, while her legs wound around his hips. Her fingers brushed against his damp skin, warm and slick from his shower, and the contact sent a shiver coursing through her.

She barely had time to process the rush of feeling his body against hers, before she leaned in, her lips seeking his.

The first brush of their mouths sent a jolt through her, soft and electric. Her hand cupped his face, her fingers slipping into his damp hair as she deepened the kiss. A soft sound escaped her, unbidden and raw, as her body seemed to melt against him, surrendering to the moment.

Jeremy’s grip shifted, one hand leaving her waist to slide down and settle firmly against the back of her thigh. The possessiveness of his touch sent heat spiraling through her, igniting a spark that made her dizzy. Without breaking the kiss, he carried her with purposeful strides into the bedroom that had been assigned to him for the holidays.

A single arm reached out blindly as she sought out the door. Her knuckles hit the door frame first, sending a stinging pain through her hand as it found the door and shoved it back with the flick of her wrist. It was her body that secured it shut, Jeremy pressing her back firmly up against it, trapping her frame between the door and the strength of his body. 

“Lock it,” she panted against his lips, “lock it.”

Katie wanted to be sure that if she was going to fall into bed with Jeremey again, she wasn’t going to make the mistake of getting caught. 

A single hand strayed away from her for but a moment, the sound of the lock engaging was like the strike of a match that ignited the smoldering ashes inside her into a burning rage. Inside his room,  nothing beyond the door mattered. It was just her and Jeremy. 

With her body pressed up against the door, and the door locked, Jeremy’s hands traced the curves of her body. They dipped down as they traced her waist, and out over the swell of her hips before gripping at the softness of her thighs as he drew her away from the door with an effortlessness that left Katie gasping. 

It never ceased to amaze her how Jeremy carried her like she weighed nothing at all. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t falter, not even when his towel slipped or his steps tangled in the fabric. He only chuckled softly, against her skin, his hot breath washing over her cheek warm and reassuring as his lips teased her with the ghost of a kiss. 

Katie’s fingers brushed against his damp skin, feeling the strength beneath, the steadiness in how he held her. He didn’t complain—didn’t call her too heavy, or too demanding. Those words, the ones Ronnie had thrown at her like weapons, dissolved into nothingness in Jeremy’s arms.

Instead, Jeremy’s grip on her was firm but gentle, his touch reverent, as though he cherished the weight of her against him – he welcomed it even, as he sat down on the bed and welcomed her into his lap. He didn’t make her feel like a burden. He made her feel wanted.

Her chest tightened–just as her legs did around his thighs–and she bit her lip, a wave of emotion catching her off guard. He made her feel wanted. The feeling of needing him–and being needed– was all consuming, so unexpected, Katie had to fight back tears as her eyes danced over the soft expression on Jeremy’s face. 

She couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes flickered down to meet hers, a quiet smile playing at the corners of his mouth. There was no blame, no irritation, only quiet determination and an unmistakable softness that made her feel like the most precious thing in the world– and she would be for as long as she let herself be in his arms. 

Her touch was trembling as it left his shoulders, the tips of her fingers traced up the back of his neck and into the wet curls that hung there. Slowly, her grip tightened, twisting the soft strands between her fingers. Jeremy’s head eased back into her pull, and his mouth fell open in a ghost of a slack jawed moan. 

The sight of him left Katie breathless, her entire body tensing at a single fact; she was the one doing this to him. 

With her heart pounding so hard Katie thought her ribcage might rattle, her hips began to roll. The soft cotton fabric of her pajama bottoms was the only thing keeping her dragging her aching core over the expanse of his thick thighs. Her body quivered, her eyes fluttering shut, at the feeling of his hands on her hips. His fingers dug into her soft flesh, pulling her body in close, further up his lap so she could feel the stiffness of his cock between her legs. 

Jeremy whispered against her cheek, his hot breath washing over her with every word. “I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

Katie wanted to groan as angled her hips over him, her clothed core dragging up his length as a distraction from her racing mind that had wanted nothing but to ignore the very thought of his body against hers. Even as she was so close to having him, the last thing Katie wanted to do was think. So, she did the only thing she knew would cloud her mind in the best ways. She acted. 

With her fingers still tangled in the curls of his hair, Katie’s lips swallowed every word that threatened to spill from his mouth with a kiss. The kiss was deep and hungry.  Katie could taste the sweetness of his toothpaste on his tongue as her own parted his lips and stroked only his teeth. 

Jeremy’s body vibrated with the vibrato of his satisfied hum, his kiss meeting the eagerness of her own before it left her lips and left a heated trail across the angles of her jaw and down. His tongue stroked along her neck slowly, priming the delicate skin there for the careful graze of his teeth. 

“Don’t,” Katie gasped out, her grasp on his hair tightening. As much as she liked it, the risk in letting her mark up the curves of neck was too great. If it was another time, another place, when her family wasn’t going to greet her in the morning, maybe Katie would have let him. 

“Alright, alright,” Jeremy assured with soft understanding against her neck before he peppered soft kisses where her neck met her shoulder, “I’ll be good. No teeth,” he continued as he hands coasted over her hips and found the bottom of her shirt, “but this, this comes off now.”

His hand then dropped to the top of her thigh, stroking over the thick expanse slowly. “And so do these.”

Licking her lips, Katie raised her arms up slowly. For a moment, she saw only darkness as her shirt was pulled up and over her face. It was lost somewhere in the room. The floor, the foot of the bed—she didn’t know where it ended up. All she knew was that as quickly as her shirt came off, she was flipped onto her back.

A gasp escaped her, one that quickly became a soft moan as the heat of Jeremey’s mouth traveled over the curves of her body. His kiss started as a simple peck against her neck, but as it continued downward it became a sloppy kiss over her collarbone. Hockey hardened hands were coarse but gentle over her breasts as he caressed them, bringing them together and giving them the brief attention of his kiss before he was kissing her stomach and the peak of each hip. 

His every breath washed over her, heating the cotton of her panties as he lay between her legs. Katie lay there, biting her lips as she waited for the touch of his hands to flutter over the fabric, but her eyes went wide as she only felt his mouth. Jeremy kissed over her clothed core slowly, his teeth tugging at the fabric that snapped back against her body with a satisfying sound. 

“Jeremy,” she breathed out, her head leaving the pillow to look down at him as he smiled from between her legs. 

His tongue traces slowly up and down the length of the fabric, her legs tensing at the teasing stroked. Slowly she bent them, her hips widening for him. Then, as if she had welcomed it, Jeremy’s fingers traced along the edges of her panties. He teased the sensitive flesh there, pausing only to trace over a small constellation of freckles, before he dipped two fingers inside. They hooked the crotch of her panties, surely feeling the wetness of her arousal there as he pulled them aside. 

Jeremy tucked the fabric off to the side, placing them carefully to assure they wouldn’t slip back into place. His two fingers dragged up and down her slick cunt, dragging the wetness of her core up to her clit before circling slowly. 

A spark of electricity ran its course through Katie’s body, straight from her core to her finger tips, sending her hips bucking up into his touch. Each circle of his fingers was like twisting up a wind up toy, building the pressure up closer and closer but Jeremy wasn’t ready to let her reach her release. 

Dragging his fingers down, he parted her and slowly slipped his digits inside. Her warm embrace welcomed him as Katie angled her hips down, welcoming the slow and steady pulse of his fingers. Jeremy worked her slowly, his fingers seeking out the most sensitive part of her, sending her dripping down his fingers with the careful roll of her hips. Getting her so close with the mere touch of him, until he pulled them free and sat up on his knees in the bed. 

Their eyes met, Jeremy making sure she was watching, as he brought his glistening fingers to his lips and tasted her. 

Katie fought back a moan. 

“You taste as good as I remember,” he hummed, the rumble of his words forcing Katie to take in a sharp inhale. They left her holding her breath until her lungs burned, suffocating, as he dragged her panties down the length of her legs and lost them among the rest of her clothes on the floor. 

Katie lay still in the bed, her eyes fixated on the ceiling as she felt Jeremy’s weight leave the bed. The sudden sound of his suitcase zipper had her jolting on the bed, her hand raising to her chest, only to be calmed by the rip of the condom wrapper. He was gone just long enough to work it onto his cock before Jeremy was crawling back onto the bed, his body hovering over hers. 

“Let me spoil you,” Jeremy spoke in a dreamy whisper, his hand raising to stroke her hair back over her shoulder. He leaned in, and Katie welcomed his kiss with a desperate one of her own. Her hands clutched to his back, one travelling up into the curls are the nap of his neck as Jeremy worked blindly between her legs. His cock fumbled up and down, searching for her core, and only did he find it when she angled her hips up. 

Her core flexed at the mere feeling of him, Jeremy letting out a satisfied hum into her mouth as he kissed her. His mouth didn’t leave hers, not even as his hands stroke down the curves of his waist in search of her hips. His firm hold held them in place as he angled his hips, his cock hitting the safe place his fingers had teased her. 

Katie’s lips fell agape in a gasp. 

“See,” Katie could hear the satisfied grin on his face in his words as he spoke, “I remember just what you like.”

“You do,” she panted, her hand coming up to rest over her lips to muffle her own words in fear that someone might hear her, “you do.”

“What do I do, Katie? I want to hear you say it.”

“You make me feel so good. You-You-” she stuttered through her words, her entire body weak as her climax became closer and closer to being all consuming. She was so close her words left in a rush of air from her lips, “you make me feel beautiful…”

“You are beautiful, Katie,” Jeremy spoke out in a breath, his words firm and genuine as he gripped at the pillow beneath her head. It anchored him as he leaned in burying his face in her hair and placed a simple kiss there. 

His hips collided with hers a little harder, each impact filling the room with a flat smack, pushing his cock to the very limits of her body. It left her reeling, her core clenching around his cock as her fingers clenched into fists around the sheets. 

“My beautiful,” he panted, his teeth gritting as he buried his face further into her hair, until he was placing a sloppy heated kiss to the curve of her neck. It was a kiss that became a strangled groan as he came, “my beautiful gift.”

They lay there together, still and panting for a moment, Katie’s hands releasing the bedsheets and finding Jeremy’s body. It became heavy over hers as she relaxed, her fingers tracing down the strength of his back like raindrops. And when they fell back down to the bed, and Jeremy had stroked her mess of red hair from her face with the gentle touch of his hand, Jeremy eased his weight from her, and his cock out of her. 

The cold air began to settle over her naked body, the sweat that was either his or her own, was left feeling like ice as she was left with nothing but the void of him. Katie brought her legs together slowly, and her arms reached out blindly for the blanket that was left wrinkled over the bed. She drew it into her chest, hugging it to her naked frame and the vulnerabilities that came with being in his bed. 

Rolling over, Katie watched as Jeremy moved towards the trash bin in the corner of the room. He stood there, still naked, with his back to her as he pulled off the condom and crouched down to bury it at the bottom of the bin.  

Katie’s head lulled, her eyes taking dreamy blinks as he moved through the room. She knew she should have been getting dressed. That she should have already snuck back into her own room. But there was something about Jeremy that made her feel calm, comfortable, and it had her burying her head in the pillow just to stay a little longer. 

When Katie glanced back up, her eyes met the sight of his pajama pants draped low on Jeremy’s hips, the red-and-green plaid matching the family set perfectly. It was an absurd sight—this six-foot-something man lounging in her carefully coordinated Christmas tradition. Her gaze lingered on his Adonis belt and how it disappeared into his pants, but her curiosity quickly got the better of her. 

“Did Parker get you those?” she asked softly, a faint smile tugging at her lips despite the unease still sitting in her chest. 

Jeremy nodded, looking down at the pants like they were some rare artifact. “Yeah. Said he didn’t want me feeling left out.”

Her heart squeezed painfully at his words. Parker was thoughtful like that, always looking out for everyone—even her. And how did she repay him? By sleeping with his teammate, not once, but twice. Her stomach did a flip in her stomach, bile creeping up the back of her throat – or maybe it was a sob. Katie couldn’t help but feel guilty. Leaning her head back against the headboard, she brought her hands up to cover her face.

“Hey,” Jeremy said gently, reaching out to brush her knee. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” she asked, her voice muffled behind her hands.

“Regret this,” he said simply, his tone so full of warmth it made her chest ache.

Katie pulled her hands away, letting out a bitter laugh. “He’s my son, Jeremy.”

“And I’m not,” he replied, his voice steady but careful.

She blinked, fighting back the hot acid of tears that began to build in her eyes. “But you’re—”

“I know,” he cut her off, his voice dropping lower, like he wanted to spare her the burden of finishing the sentence.

“Is that why you’re here?” she asked, her words trembling as she tried to keep her composure. “Because he’s my son, and you knew I’d be here?”

Jeremy hesitated, his silence weighing heavy in the room. He ran a hand through his hair, damp curls sticking to his forehead. 

“It’s a half-truth,” he admitted finally, his gaze locked on hers. “I wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t asked. It beats spending the holidays alone. But I won’t lie, Katie—you were a factor in me saying yes. I wanted to see you. And… you never called.”

Her breath hitched. She looked away, her lips pressing together in a firm line. Her shoulders sunk under the weight of everything she’d been carrying. She had gone on dates since their nights together. Men closer to her age. Friends of friends, her own coworkers, and men she had met on trendy dating apps. But none of them had looked at her the way Jeremy did—with respect, with adoration, like she was the only thing in the room worth noticing.

 “I couldn’t,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Not even when I wanted to.”

“You wanted to?” Jeremy spoke, his voice breaking. 

Katie nodded slowly, her throat tightening as tears welled in her eyes. She hesitated, her gaze faltering before finally lifting to meet his stare that was fixated on her. 

Jeremy’s grin softened into something tender as he reached for her, cupping her face in his hands. He kissed her, his lips warm and gentle, and she melted into him, her hands sliding over his as she held him there, savoring the moment.

“Stay in bed with me tonight,” he murmured against her lips.

“I shouldn’t,” she whispered, pulling back just enough to look at him, her resolve wavering.

“We can lock the door,” he offered, his tone light but his eyes searching hers. He knew the risk. They could get caught by anyone at any moment, but to him, she was worth the risk. “I want to wake up next to you on Christmas morning.”

Slowly, she slipped out of bed and crossed the room to the door. She turned the lock with a quiet click, the sound oddly satisfying.

When she turned back, Jeremy was watching her, his smile growing as she climbed back into bed beside him. She settled against his chest, his arms wrapping around as if this wasn’t the very first time she had crawled into bed with him for anything more than just sex. 

“Goodnight, Katie,” he whispered, pressing a kiss into her hair. 

“Goodnight, Jeremy,” she replied softly, her eyes closing as the warmth of his embrace lulled her to sleep.

There was no morning light filtering into the basement bedroom when Katie stirred. The only light, the soft green glow of the digital clock on the bedside table. Katie stirred awake, only because she heard footsteps overhead, the first signs of someone else being awake. It should have panicked her, but with the haze of sleep still heavy on her, Katie was quickly distracted by the  steady rise and fall of Jeremy’s chest beneath her cheek. His arms were exactly where she had left them when she had fallen asleep, securely around her waist.

Her breath caught for a moment as she shifted slightly, careful not to disturb him. Her eyes landed on the clock across the room—it was early, but not too early. Upstairs, where a single set of footsteps wandered in careful steps, Katie was sure it was one of the adults that was awake, not the children. And with the assumption, Katie gifted herself a rare moment of peace– one she wanted to savor.

Katie lifted her head just enough to look at him. His features were softened in sleep, his jaw slacked in such a way that a soft snore left his lips. Without thinking, Katie leaned in, pressing a feather-light kiss to his chin, the scruff of his jaw rough against her lips.

Jeremy stirred, a low hum escaping his throat before his eyes fluttered open. A drowsy smile spread across his face as he took her in. “Merry Christmas to me,” he murmured, his voice husky with sleep.

“Someone’s awake upstairs,” she murmured gently, pressing a soft kiss to his chest before reluctantly pulling away from his warmth and slipping out of bed. “I can’t linger, but you…” She glanced back at him. “You need to wait before coming up. Give it a few minutes—maybe an hour, just to be safe.”

Bending over, Katie collected each of her articles of clothing from where they had ended up in the room. Her shirt had been tossed on the floor, a heat on the carpet that she almost tripped on as she reached for her pants that were left tangled with the top sheet at the foot of the bed. She held them both in her arms, hugged her body, as she searched for her panties. 

“I’ll give you a 10 minute head start,” Jeremy offered her, his words firm and free of sleep, drawing her attention back to him. Katie saw his smile first, his warm brown eyes taking her in as she stood frantic and naked in his room. Then coming between them, was his hand raising her red panties in the air like a trophy. 

Her hand lurched out to them, but Jeremy tugged them away with a playful chuckle, “You get 10 minutes, because I make my girl breakfast after a night cap.”

Katie crawled onto the bed, her movements deliberate as she stretched across his body, reaching for the silky red fabric he held just out of reach. Jeremy’s teasing grin only fueled her determination, and it wasn’t until she straddled his lap—her knees sinking into the mattress on either side of him—that she managed to grab hold of them. The duvet draped over his hips did little to shield the heat between them, her fist curling tightly around the panties as she froze, suddenly aware of the position she’d put herself in.

Her breath hitched, her chest rising and falling with a rhythm she couldn’t quite control. For a moment, she let her gaze drop, her pulse thundering in her ears as she took him in. The way he was watching her—smirking yet his face soft with amusement, and the way his hands rested lightly on her thighs—was too much and not enough all at once.

Shaking off the rush of emotions that threatened to consume her, Katie tilted her head, fixing him with a look meant to convey the control she didn’t entirely feel. “I’m not your girl,” she said, her voice low but firm, though the pounding of her heart betrayed the words.

“You were last night,” he chirped, and Katie’s entire body ignited with a heat that left her sweating as she climbed off of him, and out of the bed. 

“Enough of that,” she pointed a finger at him to try to get her point across, but as firm as she was, there was no hiding the color that flooded her cheeks. 

Katie quickly turned in place, hoping that he hadn’t seen the effect he had on her– which she undoubtedly already knew. She hopped into her clothes, one article at a time before tugging her shirt over her head and fixing the buttons just right. 

Behind her, Jeremy’s hum of amusement reached her ears. “Don’t pretend like you don’t like it, Katie.”

Her fingers froze mid-button for a split second before continuing their work. She didn’t dare look back, knowing his grin would only make it worse. Instead, she raked her fingers through her messy auburn hair, took a steadying breath, and reached for the door handle.

The lock clicked, and a gust of cool air washed over Katie as she left the seclusion of Jeremy’s bedroom and ventured into the rest of the house. She moved on the tips of her toes, pausing at her bedroom door. The bed inside was still perfectly made, untouched.

A lump caught in her throat, tight and suffocating. She reached out, pulling the door shut with trembling fingers. The sharp sound of the latch falling into place almost made her jump—or maybe it was the sudden crash of dishes upstairs.

Her heart leapt as her feet carried her quickly up the stairs, past the landing that overlooked the kitchen and dining room. “What the hell just happened?” she called out, her hands raised for emphasis.

Dottie popped up in the kitchen, bright and cheerful, her grin as radiant as the morning sun. “Morning, Porn Star!”

Katie recoiled, as if Dottie’s words had struck her square in the chest. Her breath caught, her body stiffening under the weight of the teasing. She stood frozen, heat rushing to her cheeks as her mind scrambled for a response. But Dottie, as carefree as ever, simply leaned against the counter with a smug grin, her words landing like a well-placed jab that didn’t miss its mark.

“I was hoping you’d have that reaction,” Dottie said, practically glowing with mischief. “Means you listened to me, for once.” She rested her chin in her hands, elbows on the counter, poised to devour Katie’s juicy secret. “So, how was it?”

Katie crossed the kitchen in a few quick strides, lowering her voice as she leaned closer to Dottie. Through clenched teeth, she hissed, “We are not talking about this right now.”

To Katie’s relief, before the conversation could continue, the twins tore down the stairs, their excitement carrying them straight toward the mountain of gifts under the tree.

“Ah, ah!” Dottie tutted, snapping them back in line with a pointed look. “You know the rules—breakfast as a family before presents!”

The boys didn’t argue. They knew better. Instead, they dropped into the same chairs they’d claimed at dinner the night before, their murmured chatter barely audible over the soft strains of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas floating from Dottie’s Bluetooth speaker.

Their father appeared moments later, kissing Dottie’s cheek as he passed through the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee. The quiet routine of family life settled over the house, and for a moment, Katie almost let herself relax. She busied herself alongside Dottie, both of them working in sync to prepare a feast of eggs, bacon, sausage, French toast, and fresh fruit—a classic Christmas breakfast meant to keep everyone full until dinner.

It wasn’t an easy task for just the two of them, but they worked in a comfortable rhythm… until Jeremy emerged.

Cresting from the shadows of the basement, Jeremy strode into the kitchen, all smug smiles and sleepy-eyed confidence. His gaze locked onto her immediately, unrelenting, like a spotlight she couldn’t escape.

Katie bit her lower lip as she glanced at the clock on the microwave. Eight minutes. He’d waited all of eight minutes.

“You ladies need help here?” Jeremy asked, his voice far too cheerful for someone who had just rolled out of bed.

Katie hummed to hide the groan that threatened to rip up her throat. She had hoped he’d shuffle up half-asleep, groggy and disheveled, like a teenager dragged from bed. Instead, Jeremy radiated a just-been-fucked glow that buzzed with energy. A good night's sleep after sex would always be more effective than caffeine ever could be.

“We’ll manage,” Katie said stiffly, pressing her lips into a firm line.

“I insist,” he said with an infuriatingly easy grin, stepping into the space Dottie had conveniently vacated.

His elbow brushed hers as he slid into the chaos of their morning with a natural ease that made her stomach tighten. He moved like he belonged there, like this wasn’t the first time he’d stood beside her in the kitchen during Christmas breakfast.

Katie struggled to stay focused, her movements stiff and mechanical as she whisked the eggs. Beside her, Jeremy was too close, too casual, and far too smug for her liking.

And Dottie? She hid her knowing grin behind the rim of her coffee mug, her eyes twinkling as they darted between Katie and Jeremy. “You two look cozy,” she teased lightly, before turning toward the living room. “I’ll go make sure the kids don’t sneak any presents while you two finish up here–”

Unlike dinner, there were no forced pleasantries over breakfast. No conversations. Only sleepy morning greetings and yawns before the clink of clamor of cutlery against plates. And after breakfast was enjoyed, and the remnants of breakfast were cleared away, everyone gathered  around the tree for the long-awaited exchange of gifts. 

The twins dove straight into their stockings, a tradition upheld, the stocking filled by family instead now that the twins were too old for Santa. Each and every one of them had them, filled with trinkets, toys and novelties that would be lost and thrown away by next Christmas. 

Katie sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the couch, watching the joy light up on everyone’s faces, her own stocking untouched as it leaned against her lap. It remained untouched, as she stood up, leaving it half spilt on the floor as she carefully handed out gifts one by one. Her gaze softened as she watched the others unwrapped their gifts, her heart swelling at the simple happiness that surrounded her. Even her own gifts, unwrapped one by one, were thoughtful—reading socks from the twins, a bottle of wine from her ex and his wife, and a spa day from Dottie. But when Parker sat beside her, a small box in hand, she couldn’t be left more in awe by his sweet gesture of taking the time to single her out and exchange his gift to her one on one. 

“This one’s from me,” Parker said, his voice low and almost hesitant as he handed her the gift.

Taking it in both hands, Katie carefully peeled back the wrapping paper and lifted the lid, revealing a delicate necklace that caught the twinkling lights from the tree. Katie’s hand flew to her mouth as her eyes welled with tears.

“You deserve nice things, Mom,” Parker murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You always have.”

Setting the box aside, Katie pulled him into a tight hug, her cheeks wet with tears as she whispered, “What did I do to deserve you as my son?”

She wiped at her cheeks, smiling through her tears, and held the necklace out to him. “Help me with it?”

Parker hesitated, glancing toward Jeremy. “Actually... there’s one more thing upstairs I forgot. Big Dog, you mind helping Mom?”

Jeremy didn’t need to be asked twice. He rose smoothly from his seat where he had perched himself, a simple observer of their Christmas morning. He knelt down behind Katie as she held the necklace in her hands. His fingers brushed over hers as he took the delicate chain. Katie’s next movements felt like they were in slow motion. Both arms reached up, clutching her hair up and opening her neck up for him. His fingers brushed against the delicate skin of her collarbone, sending a jolt of electricity through her body, as he clasped the jewelry around her neck. His touch lingered, longer after he let his hands all away– so long that Katie thought his touch might have etched into her skin forever. 

Katie raised her hand up, letting it splay flat over the pendant and where the ghost of Jeremy’s touch was still on her body. 

“Thank you,” she smiled softly. 

“He spent hours picking it out,” Jeremy said, his voice low, “Parker wanted it to be perfect.”

“It is perfect,” Katie murmured, her voice thick with gratitude. She couldn’t imagine anything better.

Jeremy chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Which is why my gift is going to look pathetic in comparison.”

“Your gift?” Katie tilted her head, curious. “Jeremy, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Don’t worry,” Jeremy smiled, “I got gifts for everyone.” 

He handed them out one by one, distracting everyone with their gift, before he stepped over to the tree and pulled out a small gift bag for her. “Just a little something,” he said, handing it to her. 

Katie dipped her hand into the bag, rustling the tissues paper, as she pulled out a leather bound journal. It had a beautiful golden floral pattern on the cover, and its crisp pages were accompanied by a set of sleek pens. Smiling, Katie opened the journal, only for her smile to waver when something began to fall from the pages. Quickly, Katie pressed her thumb down against the page, stopping the paper–no photograph– from falling to the floor. 

Katie’s heart gave a jolt as she flipped it over. Just a glance at it and she was taken back to the dark bar with warm amber lights in Boston. The picture was taken on the very night they had met. Her back had been turned to the camera, her drink meeting the very tips of her fingers as it was served to her. Jeremy had taken the photo. Why? She didn’t know, but now, he was sharing it with her. 

Her brows furrowed as she looked up at him, speechless. 

Jeremy looked around, at what? Katie didn’t look away from him to know, before he leaned in with subtle instruction, “I figured it belonged with the first page.”

Katie’s let her gaze drop, looking over the elegant front on the page that would guide her along the entry. But Jeremy’s messy scrawl had already overtaken the page. 

November 2021 – Boston. 

Katie,

For You, Wherever You Go.

Boston was the first place I met you in that hotel bar. From that moment I knew you were something special. You weren’t just passing through my life; you were leaving an imprint on it. One that I will carry with me always. And I hope I left the same impression on you. 

This journal is for all the places you’ll go and everything you’ll see—whether I’m with you or just cheering you on from wherever I am. But know this: my favorite journey started the moment I met you. 

Katie’s lips fell apart, a shaky breath leaving them as she struggled to find the words today. Then,  she spoke in a soft whisper. “Jeremy–”

Before Katie could thank him, Parker returned, slightly out of breath from his sprint up and down the stairs.

“His gift goes with mine,” Parker said, his smile boyish and proud.

“Oh?” Katie replied, curiosity lacing her voice. She passed the journal off quickly to Dottie, trusting her to guard its secrets.

Parker handed her a simple envelope, Mom written in neat, capital letters across the front. Katie opened it carefully, not wanting to tear the card. Before she could even pull it out, Parker began explaining. “Plane tickets. So you can come back to Boston and watch me play.”

Her breath caught, her hands trembling slightly as she closed the card and wrapped her arms around him. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. Pulling back, she gazed up at him, her smile soft and full of pride. “It’s perfect. Everything is perfect.”

From the cozy house he had chosen for their holiday to the thoughtful gifts he’d chosen for everyone, Parker had planned every detail with care. Katie’s heart swelled with gratitude and a twinge of guilt for ever doubting that Christmas could be special anywhere but home.

The moment was interrupted by Dottie’s enthusiastic call. “Alright, everyone in front of the tree—family photo time!”

The twins groaned loudly, dragging their feet away from their new mini sticks. They had been gearing up to play hockey with Jeremy as their goaltender, but they knew better than to argue. Reluctantly, they joined their sister and dad by the tree. Ronnie and Monica took their places to the left, leaving room for Parker and Katie on the right.

In their matching pajamas, everyone lined up, leaving Jeremy sitting awkwardly in an armchair nearby.

“I can take the picture,” Jeremy offered, raising his hand.

“No,” Katie said quickly, her voice firmer than intended. Her gaze flicked to him, softening under the weight of his curious eyes. “You should be in the photo too.”

“Oh, I don’t—”

“We insist,” Dottie chimed in with a knowing smile.

“You can stand next to me!” Megan piped up eagerly, but Jeremy was already moving.

“Looks like I can squeeze in right here,” he said softly, stepping behind Katie.

The warmth of his body pressed lightly against her back, grounding her. Then, his hand found its place at the small of her back, where her shirt met the waistband of her pants. The touch was subtle against the skin that played peek-a-boo there—so casual it could be dismissed as accidental by anyone else—but Katie felt the slow, deliberate circles his palm traced.

It wasn’t just a touch. It was a silent message. A thank you. Maybe even something more.

The careful gesture drew her eyes back to him, a fleeting glance that warned him not to get caught. Jeremy’s lips twitched with a hint of a smirk, as if to say, I couldn’t help myself.

Wearing a small smile of her own, Katie turned her attention back to the camera. Around her, the room was filled with the warmth of Christmas morning—the hum of quiet laughter, the sparkle of lights on the tree, and the lingering scent of fresh coffee and pine.

For the first time since her divorce, the holiday didn’t feel like something to get through. It felt like a gift—a quiet, unspoken promise that maybe, just maybe, this was how it was meant to be.

The flash went off, capturing not just the moment, but the secrets she would forever keep, wrapped in the glow of a Christmas they’d never forget.

TAGLIST: @mp0625 , @starshine-hockey-girl , @wingedwheelprxncess , @kurlyteuvo , @couldawouldashoulda50, @callsign-denmark , @xciciix , @puckmaidens , @hockeyboysimagines , @hagelpoint-3821

[sonkfan005]

uhhhh I'm gonna try to write a little thing from the perspective of rouge. truthfully I am no expert on her characterization nor am i astrong writer but I've had this idea so I'm going for it

rouge goes about her day (aka. I get to examine shadow's behaviour from an outside perspective)

i wake up most days to the twinkling of the alarm from the room i share a wall with---its starting to get on my nerves, but I haven't the heart to tell him to turn it down. he leaves home at the same time I do, but insists he wake up at the same time early in the morning...

omega has been turned off and hooked up to his wires in the corner of the living room for three days. he should be almost done soon. and he'd better! the lights have been flickering, eyeliner is harder than i may make it seem. it'd also be nice if the incessant humming stopped. I find myself swiveling my ears away from that corner of the room without thinking about it.

the charging station he had hooked up the the wall is an eyesore, too.

shadow eats the same breakfast everyday, and I swear, he makes sure to crunch as loudly as possible. the muscles of his jaw make his ears shift back and forth as he chows down.

i stick around before leaving for work just a few minutes before he leaves. it's only natural for me to be fashionably late, after all. but shadow makes sure to leave early. despite being able to teleport (and Chaos have I asked him to when I'm running later than usual!) he refuses. he walks himself to the nearest GUN office with his lanyard stuffed in his quills.

now, after a long day of sifting through the paperwork of past or future GUN projects, I get to go home. the air is getting colder.

so, I descend the stairs to our shared apartment. the heater is turned off. and omega continues with his humming.

shadow arrives, maybe an hour later. he likes to take in the cold air more than the summer heat i prefer.

in the summer, he is usually home before me.

i am usually busy with other matters (absentmindedly watching my microwave ramen rotate, or trying to get rid of that last bit of eyeliner on my waterline...) but sometimes I catch him enter the house.

he opens the door just enough for him to slip in, stands to the side, closes it. every time I've caught him, he does the same thing.

he may greet me, he may not. what decides that, I don't know.

from there, he'll either ask what I've made for dinner, or take a blazing hot shower. the bathroom mirror is always dripping with condensation. he squabbles with me over who should clean the water stains off it---of course, its him. but he's stubborn.

reality television isn't his thing, so I usually end up staying up longer than i mean to with omega (who insists that the contestants should fight to the death, without fail, every time).

so, when I wake up on the couch late at night, I sometimes see the light in shadow's room still on, glowing from underneath the door. he locks himself in there for hours---I haven't the slightest idea what he's doing, but it's quiet, and, to be perfectly honest, I do not care.

[myokk]

Imelda x Poppy🥹💓

[gardenofearthlydelightss]

mistynat

[there-will-be-a-way]

Also, I called the support workers of the living group my bestie lives in last week to get an appointment for an interview and they said they would call me back on Monday to give me a date. I didn't hear back from them so I called them this morning to 1) ask them for the date for the interview and 2) show them my interest because you have to do that when searching for living groups. You have to call again and again and again, otherwise you'll never get to live there because their waiting lists are so long that they often "forget" people (aka ignore them on purpose if they don't show enough interest). The person on the phone was unkind - or at least I felt this way. She sounded annoyed and told me that they don't have a date yet and that they don't have a free room anyway. I felt let down and upset. She said that they have my contacts and that I'll hear back from them but tbh, I doubt that. And the way she treated me makes me not want to live there anyway. I'd rather stay here and live in a container or smth but have support workers who feel like a family. Idk

[fiona-fififi]

...