#this has happened SO MANY TIMES over the years

[katsu28]

snowfall

pairing: lando norris x best friend!reader

summary: when plans with your family fall through at the last minute, lando invites you to come home with him for the holidays. (3.8k)

a/n: the big finale!!! lando is so best friends to lovers coded, i couldn’t resist. does it snow in the uk in december, probably not but it’s for the plot so bear with me pls <3 happy holidays everyone!!

“Yeah, of course. Yes, mum, I understand. No, I’ll be fine, I promise. Okay. Okay, I love you too. Cheers, see you when you get back.” 

You end the call with a heavy sigh, tossing your phone away from you on the sofa.

That was your mum on the phone, telling you that her and your father wouldn’t be home for Christmas this year. You’d planned on going home to celebrate with them like you always do, but for the first time ever in your life, it looked like you were going to be spending Christmas alone. 

It was bound to happen sometime in your life, really. You’re an adult now, still trying to find your place and your people in this world. 

Speaking of your people, Lando has just made his way into McLaren hospitality, head on a swivel until his eyes land on you. He takes notice of your downtrodden demeanor immediately, marches his way over to where you are with gusto and plops down next to you, bumping his shoulder against yours. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks bluntly, dark brows furrowed in concern. 

You inhale a deep breath, forcing a smile onto your face to respond. “Nothing. How was testing?” 

“Fine. Seriously, what’s going on? Why do you look so sad?” He demands, but not unkindly or rudely. Just simply how Lando is with you, direct and to the point. It’s one of many ways he is around those he cares for. 

“I was planning on going home to spend Christmas with my family, but my parents aren’t going to make it home in time,” You confess. Your finger picks at the loose thread of your sweater sleeve, a welcome distraction from the lump threatening to form in your throat. 

Lando frowns. “Oh. M’sorry to hear that. That sucks.” 

“Yeah. Looks like I’ll be spending the holidays on my own this year.”

“What? No, you can’t spend Christmas alone. That sounds so sad.” 

“I’ll be fine, Lando,” You chuckle, patting his knee. It does indeed sound sad, but you won’t have Lando all worried about you when he should be celebrating with his loved ones. He’s got a lot to celebrate this year, and you don’t want your situation to take away from any of it. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“Come spend Christmas with me.” 

For a moment, you’re at a loss for words. Lando is one of your best friends, sure, but joining him for something like this seems too imposing of you. Despite being close with his family, you can’t do this to them so last minute. After a long year, this is their time with Lando. 

You shake your head immediately, wrinkling your nose. “No way. I wouldn’t want to barge in on your family time.”

“C’mon, you wouldn’t be! My family loves you.” He shrugs. “I mean, you’re basically an honorary Norris already at this point, and I think my sisters might love you more than they love me.” 

That makes you laugh. “Shut up, no they don’t!” 

“Uh, yeah they do.” 

“Okay, maybe they do. I’m just that easy to love.” 

“Yeah, you are,” He says, smiling softly. Your head cocks to the side at the pure warmth in his tone, and it seems to make him snap out of whatever trance he’s in, because he gives his head a subtle shake. “Seriously, come home with me. It’ll be fun. Way more fun than just sitting around at home watching those boring home improvement shows you seem to like so much.” 

“Hey! Those shows are fun!” You huff, swatting him on the thigh. 

“Sure they are,” He says, still unbelieving. “So what do you say? Christmas with the Norrises, how ‘bout it?” 

You let out a breathy chuckle, nodding. “Okay. Yeah, that sounds lovely.” 

“Mint! I’ll go let my mum know.” He beams, bouncing to his feet. “Better let Flo and Cisca know too, they’d kill me if I brought you round and didn't tell them ahead of time.” 

“Lando?” You call after him. He whirls around with an arched brow, phone already in hand. “Thank you.” 

“Of course. I’d never let you spend the holidays alone.”  

Looks like this Christmas might not be so bad after all. 

-------

The first thing you hear when you climb out of the car at Lando’s family’s house is a shout of your name. 

Before you can even register who might be calling you, a little body crashes into your legs, arms wrapping around your knees tightly. Now you know who it is, and you grin. 

“Why hello, miss Mila!” You chirp, kneeling down to be at her level. She giggles loudly at the finger you boop against her nose, throwing her arms around your neck as best she can, and you lift her up onto your hip. “Are you excited for Christmas?” 

“Christmas!” She cheers. Lando wanders over to the two of you from the boot of the car at that moment, and the second Mila spots him, she grins even wider than you’d thought was possible. “Lala!!!” She squeals, reaching out for him. 

Lando takes her into his arms, swings her around a little bit, beaming brightly at the peals of laughter that escape her with every swing. “My goodness, you’ve grown! You might be almost as big as me now!” 

Lando’s brother, Oliver, emerges from around the house now with his other daughter nestled in his arms, raising his free hand in greeting as he makes his way over. 

“Guess my brother finally gathered the nerve,” He says cheerfully, clapping Lando on the back. Lando not-so-subtly steps on Oliver’s foot, garnering a hiss of pain from the older Norris. “To…make it home when it’s still bright out! Yeah, he usually doesn’t come around til the girls have gone off to bed.” 

“It’s nice to see you too, Oliver,” You chuckle, pushing aside your confusion as you give a small wave to the toddler in her father’s arms. She waves back shyly. “Thanks for letting me join you guys this year.” 

“Please, you’re welcome here anytime,” Oliver replies, sounding more than sincere. “C’mon, let’s head inside. Mum and everyone’ll be stoked to see you.” 

Mila wriggles out of Lando’s arms to come hold your hand, dragging you towards the house excitedly. You don't notice Lando and Oliver dropping back, nor the hushed conversation they have that is definitely about you. 

Much like both boys have said, the rest of their family welcomes you with open arms.

His parents tell you how good it is to see you again, and that they’re happy you’d decided to come home with Lando, Flo and Cisca glue themselves to your side immediately to catch up with you, even little Athena starts to warm up to you the longer she watches her older sister play with you. 

You feel right at home with all of them like you always do, and it makes you start to forget about spending your first Christmas without your own family. Though, in a way, Lando’s family is starting to feel like yours too. 

-------

It’s Christmas Eve and you can’t sleep. You’ve been at Lando’s house a few days now and everything’s been great—the food, the company. Lando. 

You’re used to him being a little forward with his affections towards others, because that’s just the way he is. So when he pulls your legs over his lap while you’re watching a holiday film with the whole family, or rests his head on your shoulder during Monopoly, you don’t think anything of it at first. He likes cozying up to friends and being close to them. But as the days go on, it starts to feel different this time. 

At first you just assume it’s because he doesn’t want you to feel awkward, but then you catch him staring at you a few times in a way you can only describe as pure fondness. While you're on the sofa cuddled up with Mila and Athena watching one of their shows. As you're helping Cisca figure out what to wear for her next date with her boyfriend, or helping his mum in the kitchen. 

It could be platonic, but it feels a little too intimate to be so. 

You don’t want to think too much into it, though. It wouldn’t do you any good to get your hopes up about the possibility of something more with Lando when it could just be all in your head. 

Sitting up in bed, you scrub your hands over your face. Too many thoughts run their way through your brain for you to fall back asleep, no matter how tired you may be. You glance out the window beside you, and suddenly your attention is captured at the scene outside. 

It’s snowing. 

Sure, it’s an ungodly late hour, but seeing snow makes you want to go outside. Doing your absolute best not to wake anyone up as you swing yourself out of bed and creep down the hallway, you make your way down the corridor to Lando’s bedroom. 

You knock on his door quietly, listening for anything that could give away whether or not Lando was up. For a few seconds, there isn’t a sound. Then you hear the clacking of a keyboard and the faint sound of him talking, and you know he’s awake. He probably didn’t hear you knock. 

Pushing open the door slowly, you pad into the room to see him slouched over in his gaming chair with his back towards you.

“Yeah, mate, I’m gonna tell her—no, I’m not! Fuck off,” He says. There’s a lengthy pause—whoever he’s on call with is talking, you assume. “I’m just—I’m waiting for the right time. Like, I’ll know when it comes, won’t I?” 

Your heart gives an involuntary pang in your chest and you sigh, having already had enough eavesdropping on this conversation. 

You pad towards Lando, going for a gentle tap on the shoulder. Your hand just barely touches his arm, but he jumps about a foot in the air, flinching so hard you think the poor boy might’ve given himself whiplash.

“Jesus! What the—don’t sneak up on me like that!” He yelps, pushing one side of his headphones above his ear. On the screen, you can see he’s playing Tarkov again. Alway playing Tarkov instead of sleeping, that boy. 

This time, it works out for you. Now you can drag out into the snow with you. Not that you weren’t going to do it anyways even if he was asleep.

“You couldn’t hear me! What was I supposed to do?” You huff. Squinting at the other username on screen, you smile, pushing into Lando’s space to reach his microphone. “Is that Max? Hi, Max!” 

Lando’s voice sounds a bit strangled when he relays Max’s response a few moments later. “He says hi.” 

“What else did he say?” 

“What? Nothing,” He replies quickly, swallowing hard. “Why?” 

“That was such a long pause, there’s no way he just said hi.” 

“Well, he did, so…it’s whatever. What’s, uh, what’s up? Everything okay?” 

Now you remember what you came here for. Grinning, you bounce on the balls of your feet. “There’s snow outside!” 

“No way!” He says earnestly, cocking his head to the side. He abandons his game in favor of shuffling over to the window and peering outside, letting out a pleased little noise when he sees that it is indeed snowing out in the garden. “That’s wicked.”  

“Will you come outside with me?” 

He exhales sharply, giving an amused chuckle. “Yeah, right. I’m not going outside.” 

“It’ll be fun!” 

“Don’t see what’s so fun about freezing my ass off in the cold,” He grumbles, but you can tell he just needs a little more convincing. You jut out your lower lip, giving him the pout of yours that he can never seem to withstand, and his resolve starts to crumble. “No, don’t do that. Stop that right now. I’m not going outside with you at this time of night.” 

“Please, Lan?” You plead, taking his face into your palms so he can’t look away. For a split second, his gaze seems to flicker down to your lips, but before you can process the tiny movement, he’s squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Oh my god, fine,” He groans, shoulders sagging. You beam, wrapping your arms around him in a quick hug. “Let me go tell Max I’m being held against my will and then we can go.” He crosses back over to his desk and mutters something into the microphone that you can’t quite make out. 

As you’re pulling on layers to guard yourselves from the cold, he pauses, turning to you with one shoe on. “You didn’t, erm, happen to hear anything when you came in to get me, did you?” 

“No, why?” 

You’re not sure why you choose to lie about what you’d overheard, something about Lando telling some girl something at the right time. He hadn’t told you anything about having a crush on anyone, but then again, these past few weeks have been hectic. 

“Oh, nothing. Just wondering.” He pulls the front door open right then, suddenly seeming so eager to get outside despite his previous grievances. Something in his tone hints that it might not be as nothing as he says it is, but you won’t push. 

You traipse out into the garden after him, making careful sure to close the door behind you so the cold doesn’t seep in. Fresh powder crunches underfoot as you make your way further out. 

The falling snow has already begun to coat everything out here in layers, and you drag your finger through it, smiling to yourself at the clean cut line it makes.

It feels like another world out here. In a life that is so often always hustle and bustle all the time, the quiet of this time of night in the countryside seems deafening, but in the best way. Peaceful can only begin to describe how you feel right now. 

“Why is it so fucking cold out here?” Lando grumbles, burrowing deeper into his three scarves. Along with the two jumpers and thick coat he’d shoved himself into before even stepping foot outside, he looks well freezing.

“Don’t be such a grinch, Lan. It’s snowing!” 

He scowls. “It’s freezing.” 

“C’mon, at least try to have some fun! You’re killing my vibe, mate,” You huff, bending down to scoop up a loose handful of snow to chuck in his direction. It scatters into the air before it even makes it to him, but hey, at least he’s laughing now. You turn to say something else, but you’re immediately stopped in your tracks. 

A snowball explodes against your forehead before you can say a thing, spraying bits of icy snow everywhere. 

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry!” Lando yelps, nearly tripping on his own feet in his scramble towards you. You’re too stunned by the snow dripping its way down your face to even register his words. “I wasn’t aiming for your face, I swear! Are you okay?” 

You blink owlishly at him, at the concern and horror mixing in his expression as he takes you by the shoulders to check you out. He uses his teeth to pull off one glove, tossing it off to the side as he reaches to brush the snow from anywhere he can reach.

“For a professional athlete, you really do have shit aim,” You huff, playful annoyance in your tone. 

Lando’s teeth dig into his bottom lip, eyes crinkling happily at the corners as he giggles quietly. “I know. S’terrible, innit? Good thing my job doesn’t require me to do any throwing.” 

“Good thing,” You echo. 

His palms cup the expanse of your cheeks, the pads of his thumbs brushing across your cold skin delicately, and he’s looking at you in that way again, the way that makes you feel like you’re the only other one in the world. Blue-green eyes like sea glass flit around your face, thick brows furrowing ever so slightly as he inches forward. Slowly, like he’s giving you a way out if what he’s about to do isn’t what you want. 

You’re holding your breath as he gets closer, closer, closer, until—

Fireworks. 

As if kissing your best friend isn’t cliche enough, all you can describe of the feeling of his lips against yours is fireworks, bursting in your chest like little explosions. 

“Wait—” You breathe, splaying a hand across Lando’s chest to push him back a bit before the kiss can go on any longer. Despite how much you want it to continue. He makes some sort of displeased noise out the back of his throat, pink lips turning down into a pout. “What about the other girl?” 

That gets him to pull back a little more, head cocking and nose scrunching in genuine confusion. “What other girl?” 

“I lied. I did hear you talking when I came into your room, you said something about waiting for the right time to tell her something. You can’t be kissing me if you like someone else, Lando!” You exclaim incredulously. 

He regards you blankly for a few seconds. Then he starts to laugh. You’re trying to save his ass and he’s laughing at you. You scowl at him. “Why the fuck are you laughing?” 

“Oh! Oh, that was so good! That was gold, really,” He splutters, tears in his eyes. You swat indignantly at him and he holds up his hands in surrender, doing his best to catch his breath. “There is no other girl, you muppet! I was talking about you.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah, oh. Guess this is the right time then, huh?” He says, chuckling nervously as he rubs at his reddened nose. “So, here goes it. I think I’m in love with you.” 

“Why?” You ask, disbelieving. It’s a blunt response, you’re fully aware, but you want to know. 

“What d’you mean, why? Have you met you?” He scoffs, like he’s astonished you even have the nerve to question him. “You’re amazing. You’re kind and funny and so smart, and you make people happy—you make me happy, even when I’ve had the absolute shittiest day, I know everything’ll be fine as soon as you find me. You know what I need, even when I don’t know what I need.” 

You’re at a loss for words hearing all this now. How has Lando been in love with you all this time, with you none the wiser? 

“Why’ve you never said anything?” You ask softly.

Lando smiles almost sadly, letting his hands drop back down to his sides. “You’re one of my best friends. I’d rather keep my mouth shut if telling you meant losing you. Losing what we have because you didn’t feel the same way.” 

That, you understand. The fear of ruining your friendship with Lando is one of the reasons why you’d kept your feelings for him secret as well. So to both of you, it was better to ignore your feelings and stay this close than to let the other know and possibly lose one of the best things in your lives. 

“We’re idiots,” You sigh, closing your eyes. 

“You’re not an idiot,” He says immediately. Then he frowns. “Wait, why would you be an idiot? I know I am, but why you?” 

You grab Lando by the collar of his puffy jacket, pulling him into a firm kiss. If he’s surprised, it only shows for a split second before he’s kissing you back fervently, drawing you flush against him by the hips. His nose against your cheek is much colder than before, but the warmth that spreads from your chest down to your toes is more than enough to remedy it. 

“Please tell me that means you do feel the same way,” He pants, looking entirely dazed when you pull away. 

You raise an amused brow at him. “No, I just kissed the living daylights out of you because I don’t feel the same way—what do you think?” 

“Best Christmas gift ever, is what I think.” He smiles warmly. Then he shivers, blowing out a sharp breath. “Now can we please go back inside? I can’t feel my face anymore.” 

Once you’re inside and have shed your coats and shoes and anything else wet with snow, Lando nudges you towards the kitchen. “I’ll make us some hot cocoa.” He murmurs, quiet so as to not wake anyone in the house. You pause, causing him to look back at you. “What?” 

“The package kind or the real kind?” 

“What sort of question is that? The real kind, of course,” He snorts. “With milk and everything.” 

“Oh, you do love me!” You say gleefully.

Lando rolls his eyes playfully, giving your hand a firmer tug that has you sliding right in under his arm on your socked feet.

Despite all his moaning and groaning about being cold, he’s pleasantly warm, and you sigh, nuzzling in closer. He welcomes your closeness, dropping a kiss to the side of your head as he shuffles his way towards the pots and pans cupboard with you latched onto him, not even trying to wriggle out of your grasp.

It feels natural because you’ve always been close. Though now, things have changed. Now, you can kiss him if you want to, instead of wondering what Lando would do if you did it. You’re not just friends to each other anymore. 

You press your lips against his quickly as he’s piling marshmallows on top of two mugs of hot cocoa, pulling back right after just to see his reaction to the impromptu kiss.

As expected, his mouth curves into a grin, dimples on full display. He flicks a marshmallow at you, and you reciprocate, tilting your chin up at him in challenge.

Soon enough, now you’re both chucking the tiny white sweets at each other, trying and failing to catch them into your mouths. The first of you to catch one of them is you, and you cheer, flinging your hands in the air. 

“Oh my god, shush, you! People are sleeping!” He breathes, lunging forward to press a hand over your mouth as you’re mid-shout.

Your eyes widen in comical realization and it makes him laugh, which makes you laugh. His hand falls from your face as you both fall apart in quiet giggles. 

You’re laughing because he’s laughing, he’s laughing because you’re laughing, and neither of you can stop until your sides hurt. 

“C’mere,” He murmurs, stepping in close and sliding a hand around the back of your neck. His gaze flits all around your face, taking in the sight of you with eyes that twinkle with happiness even in the darkness of the kitchen. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Lan." You smile.

He kisses you then, long and sweet and with such gentleness that it makes your stomach do somersaults. 

In the morning, you’ll need to figure out how you’ll play things with Lando’s family, and then everything after. But not now.

For now, you’ll watch the snow fall outside while you snuggle up on the sofa with the boy you love and a mug of not so hot cocoa. 

So maybe this Christmas hadn’t gone exactly as you’d planned, but really, you aren’t too sad about it anymore. You wouldn’t have it any other way. 

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new writing :)

[fledgedragonfox]

Secondary Colors & Tertiary Souls

Two lovers have reincarnated throughout history, destined to find each other and fall in love all over again. There’s also this third guy that reincarnates alongside them… we don’t really know what he does.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I've honestly lost track of how many times I've been here. Watching from the outside as they found each other again. Sometimes they remember, sometimes they don't. But they always find each other. And sometimes they find me. But never in a way that matters. I came close once. Violet came back as a beautiful young woman and I happened to be a strapping young man from a noble family.

This was way back when dragons were still trouncing around the countryside. I was her betrothed, and I was so happy. But then she found Forest, as one of the most gorgeous dragons I'd ever seen. To be fair every other gorgeous dragon was either Violet or Forest in another life, but still. He was breathtaking. He stole her away, and they lived happily ever after. 

I don't like to think about how bad things were after they left. I'd like to think that if I came that close to them again I'd handle things better. No elderberry wine and cliff edges for me, thank you very much.

But, well…

It's hard to keep going like this.

There’s a legend about us you know? Two souls, born into the world over and over again. They always find each other. And every time, their love burns through the barriers of forgotten times, and they embrace. Every time, they come back and without fail, a third appears. No one quite knows why, but the third soul is always present. Either in passing, or as a foe, or even a friend. Some say that when the three meet, you can sense it happen. But always it is the lovers, and their shadow. 

They were an orcish warrior and an adorable scholar. I was a merchant passing through their village.

They were a pair of rebellious halflings. I was an elf who barely had a chance to speak to them before the war.

They were a lake spirit and a knight. While I was an ogre he'd been tricked into slaying.

They were a priest and a fair maiden. I was a dangerous lich, despite only using my powers to heal.

They were a bookseller and a musclehead. I was just a regular at the coffee shop they frequented. That time we became pretty good friends. 

They were starcrossed lovers, an astronaut and an alien. And I worked on mission control millions of miles away.

I get to see them come together again and again and again. But I never get a chance. Sometimes we see each other in the interim. The place between life and death. Sometimes they remember me from the previous life, those are the best moments of my existence. We talk, reminisce, apologize, and promise to remember next time. But they rarely ever do. And even if they do, they almost never remember me.

Right now, I'm a bartender. Serving drinks to assholes all night long. Night after night. Last time the higher ups apologized again for the trouble with my memories. They promised that this time things would be different. This time, when I die again, I won't have to come back. My paradise has been waiting for almost a thousand years, and will still be there when I'm ready. I might be ready to just rest, and let them keep up this asinine cycle they have going. 

That’s when I see them. Violet is a tall man wearing a black turtleneck. He looks so kind, like he always does. Forest is a large man, with a thick beard and a wide smile. They are perfect. Just like always. Even when Violet’s sword was cutting through me, or when Forest was soaring away with Violet in his claws. They were smiling at each other, their hands clasped in each others’ as they danced to the pulsing music. They had matching rings on, married once again. 

They glance in my direction and slow in their dance. I fumble, dropping the tumbler in my hands all over the bar. Sticky booze and ice scatter across the surface and soak my apron. I swear quietly, trying desperately to mop up the mess before it could drip onto any customers. I may be set in the afterlife, but here I need this damned job. I jump when paper towels gently move my frantic hands out of the way. My breath catches in my throat. 

They were here. Frantically setting up a paper towel barricade with the help of the security nearby. My hands are shaking. I’m smaller in this life. Lanky, and awkward, and too many stuttered out excuses. I hadn’t really been taking care of myself this time around, if I’m being honest. Forest takes my hands, trying to stop their shaking. My eyes snap to his and I feel it. Oh this one was going to hurt. These ones always did. He remembered me, or at least something about me. I was a homeless man last time. I lashed out in frustration when I saw them walking down the street. They later visited me sometimes after I apologized. They brought me sandwiches sometimes. Then the cycle started again.

“It’s you.” He said. His voice isn’t angry or sad. It’s a soft voice full of awe. I will fully admit that I am beyond confused. We must have been standing here a while because Violet finishes cleaning and looks at us. I expect him to lash out or question his husband, whatever his name is this time. But he doesn’t. He looks at me, and starts to tear up. He remembers too. This is going to really suck. Last time I was so tired and sick. This time I’m a pathetic lanky loser. It’s been a few minutes, both of their hands are clasping mine. I can’t look at them. I keep my gaze to the floor. This will be the last time. I promise myself that, at the end of this one I am staying in the after. 

“Pumpkin.” The name, the name I’ve only ever used sparingly in the after. They said my name. I can feel myself crying as I look at them. Their gazes are full of sorrow, regret, awe, and something that they had only ever had for each other. Forest guides me around the bar, the pair nearly jumping over the counter. The other patrons and bartenders give us strange, knowing, looks. Then they hug me. Well, envelope me more like. They are both bigger than me. They wrap themselves around my soggy boozy body. 

“We’re so so sorry.” Violet mutters into my hair. Forest it patting my front down with paper towels, muttering apologies and explanations that I barely hear. It takes me a few minutes to catch up. But I can still feel it. I feel a shift in myself. Like something slotting into place. 

“You remember…” My voice is a whisper, and I begin to sob when they nod and pull me in between them. They remember. Maybe they’ll want to stay with me in paradise. Maybe this life won’t be quite so bad. They’re running through names I’ve had in the past, some that even I barely recall. When they kiss me, one after the other, it feels like all of the pain is being seared away. 

I’m not a shadow anymore.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

OK! I'm probably gonna make more of these at some point but here we go! A writing prompt for chrimmas!

If you're interested, I have a patreon and unfortunately a gofundme available if you want to support me.

All of the details for the gofundme can be found on the gofundme page, I promise.

Pareon: https://patreon.com/A_M_W_Harris?utm_medium=unknown&utm_source=join_link&utm_campaign=creatorshare_creator&utm_content=copyLink Gofundme: https://gofund.me/d271f0c4

Two lovers have reincarnated throughout history, destined to find each other and fall in love all over again. There’s also this third guy that reincarnates alongside them… we don’t really know what he does.

[quarterlifekitty]

Moth girl getting into that state with nesting, being tired, her belly hurts and she's just acting off.

König already knows it's the time of the year when she lays eggs. But some time passed, and she still didn't get better. Still didn't come out of the pillow nest.

When he's checking up on her, her belly is round and swollen, but the eggs are not coming out..

König having to help her out. Carefully pressing down on her belly, rubbing her little pussy to stimulate her and trick into finally letting the eggs go.

(I made that up, it lives in my head rent free.)

cw: egg laying stuff, overstim

König’s heart aches when he looks down at you, squirming and sluggish all at once, the distention of your belly obvious. His precious mottechen, so uncomfortable and full.

The only struggle he experienced was internal as he pulled you from your nest of blankets and pillows, your usual pips and chirps replaced exhausted whines.

He’d been warned that this could happen. That sometimes hybrids have trouble expressing, especially if the eggs are unfertilized.

He’d gotten you into bed, your back to his stomach with your legs spread and ankles hooked over his thighs.

One of König’s massive hands is splayed over your abdomen, cupped to create a bit more pressure from his gathered fingertips as he rubs ellipses over you.

Your hands grip weakly at his forearm as he tries to stimulate you. You look up at him with barely formed tears gathering at your waterline from how long and tiring this process has been, keeping you exhausted and restless at once.

“Ich werde es besser machen, liebling, I promise,” he coos, shifting his legs to spread you a little better. It feels… a bit wrong to be touching you this way when you’re not well. Like he’s taking advantage, even though he knows it’s the least invasive way to help you. It doesn’t help that you can definitely feel him hard against your back.

His touches start feather-light on your clit, flicking and rubbing to try to spur your inner muscles into making the necessary contractions. His petting and stroking gets heavier, until your hips are twitching and your eyes clench shut with the strain as you pass the first egg in your clutch.

König lets out a breath he’d had no idea he was holding as the cream colored egg slips onto the towel beneath you. It’s a little bigger than the ones in your last clutch had been, which is probably what caused the issue, if he had to guess. His poor little siedenmotte.

The ones after the first come much easier, thank god. He wasn’t sure he could handle seeing your face twisted in pain much more than he already had.

He grinds his teeth, sick with guilt when you thrash against him with what must be the last of your strength— your legs twitching as you try to free yourself from his hold, from the overstimulation. But he has to make sure you’re not holding onto anything, so he keeps you pinned, pressing down on your belly while two of his fingers find a home inside of your sore cunt. He makes you cum, finally, and heaves a sigh of relief when you don’t produce anything more.

Your eggs, which he typically finds laid in an array with almost mathematical precision, sit in a sticky pile on the towel. Not quite as many as usual, but noticeably more girthy, not as uniform either. He hoped it didn’t mean you were sick.

He puts the towel off to the side to be dealt with later, focusing on untangling your legs. He lays with you on his chest, and he starts to hum an old song he remembers from his childhood so you can feel the rumble in his chest. He doesn’t have the deepest voice, but it seems to do well enough for you, relaxing you enough to let your eyes close.

When he feels you’re recovered enough that he feels he can leave you alone to rest, he’ll dig out a flashlight from his dresser to shine through each of your eggs, just like always, just to make sure there’s nothing in them before they’re returned to you.

Hopefully you’d be back to your usual self tomorrow. He isn’t sure how much more of this his heart can take.

[doromoni]

Not Over the Papaya | OP81

⊹ ｡•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Ships : Oscar Piastri x Popstar! Reader , Ex!Lando Norris x Popstar! Reader

Genre : Fluff Smau

A/N : Oki, quick reminder! This is all fiction!! nothing in this ever happened in real life, so don’t hate on the people referenced please!

Face claim : Jennie Kim

Summary : Y/N and Oscar cope with their own breakups by making the Heartbreak Club.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

< Previous | Part 17 | Next >

landonorris

liked by ln4, mclaren, f1, and others

landonorris And thats how you do it 😏. Pole for tomorrow’s race baby!

mclaren back at it again!! thats our driver 💪

ln4 How many poles was this again? 🤔

user1 Ok sir cook!

user2 Get em Lan! close the gap from Max

user3 Yes! this year’s battle is so tight 😮‍💨

user4 I’m so glad Lando is Mclaren’s no. 1 driver

user5 yeah for now

user4 @user5 what do you mean, for now??

user5 Give oscar time, you’ll see

user4 Piastri is literally in P17 while Lando got pole 🤡

user5 you didnt watch the practice sessions did you 🤡

user3 Get the p1 tomorrow Lando!

user4 Y/N fumbled letting Lando go for Oscar…. couldnt be me 🤢

user5 why would you even drag Y/N here? let’s not forget who cheated on who

user6 McLaren worked extra hard to cover that issue…. and we should not make it any easier. Cheaters remain cheating

user4 yeah yeah whatever! Lando stays on top

user6 That smirk was not necessary sir… you literally got the fastest car??

user7 and his teammate got what place in the fastest car? right 17

user8 Lando’s got that team favoritism buff tho

user7 what favoristism?

user6 @/user7 are you blind or stupid? its pretty obvious that Mclaren favors Lando over Oscar

user9 Don’t listen to the haters Lando!!

user10 Ngl I like Lando over Oscar anyday. McLaren should just fire the Australian like they did with Danny ric. Bro is not going anywhere in this team.

Notification: My Osc🧡 replied to your message*

*Incoming call from Manager Kim

Pick up or Decline

Pick up

-Hi, Kim. What’s up?-

-Y/N, your new ep has still charting at number 1 an opportunity opened up and it is HUGE!-

-Like how huge are we talking Kim?-

-HUGE huge, Y/N!!-

-Really? whats the gig and when is it? -

- I need you to fly out here to the states like right now!-

-Woah what? I can’t right now Kim. Oscar crashed and I need to be with him in the race. Everything is in chaos here and I — can’t it just be over the phone? -

- What? are you being serious right now? Y/N this is your career. Are you really choosing a boy over it?! Y/N listen to me. This opportunity comes by once in a life time, don’t waste it -

- Kim… can’t you reschedule the meeting? or something? please? -

- No, Y/N. They want to personally meet you here by tomorrow evening. I swear this is your Lando situation all over again! -

- Excuse me?? what does that even mean? -

- Y/N , you’re reliving your relationship with Lando through Oscar! -

-That’s not fucking true Kim!-

-Really, Y/N?? You’re even starting to give up opportunities for Oscar!! Does that ring any bells for you?? huh?? Remember you gave up that collab with Justin Bieber because your shit of an Ex was insecure and jealous?!! How is this not the same?? You’re doing all of this for what? so that your new boy toy can cheat on you?? Your being delusional again, Y/N. Get it together -

-KIM! You’re being out of line! You have no right to dictate what happens in my personal life. This is my decision to make not yours, and I’ll stand by what ever consequence i’ll face for it-

- Yeah, you’re not the one cleaning shit up, if you aren’t here by tomorrow. I swear Y/N… I’m done with you and your team.-

*beep* *beep* *beep*

-Oscar’s POV-

Notification : Mark sent a message*

Notification: Logan has sent a message to Timtams and Ranch*

Calling: My Dearest 🤍

*Ring*

*Ring*

*Ring*

*The number you are calling cannot be reached, please try again later*

Calling: My Dearest 🤍

*Ring*

*Ring*

*Ring*

*The number you are calling cannot be reached, please try again later*

Calling: My Dearest🤍

*Ring*

*Ring*

*Ring*

*The number you are calling cannot be reached, please try again later*

Calling : My Dearest🤍

*Ring*

-Hello?-

-You had me worried there, dear. Are you busy?-

-Oh, uhm no. No I guess-

-Are you ok, Baby? Is everything alright?-

-Yeah, No. Im ok, just some things to think about for work-

-Ok… if you say so. I’m heading back to our room okay?-

-Yeah. see you later. Bye Osc-

-Thank you for being here and supporting me in everything Y/N… I know it’s not easy for you. I love you-

-I… I love you too Oscar-

f1news

liked by user 1 and user2

f1news after yesterday’s chaotic qualifying. The teams and the grid are only starting to heat up, with McLaren starting the fire. Oscar joining papaya isn’t as heaven sent as everyone thought.

While inside drama is brewing inside McLaren, are other drivers starting to pick sides? Yes they are! While some are neutral, it is obvious who are leaning towards supporting Oscar. The drivers had taken to instagram stories to show just on whose part of the McLaren garage they support.

user1 Chaotic is a way to put it. It was an absolute shitshow.

user2 I guess Mclaren couldn’t handle 2 talented drives at the same time. It’s actually so saddening, especially for Oscar. His team always puts Lando first at EVERYTHING.

user3 I find it hilarious how most of the grid are either on Oscar’s side or just doesn’t care.

user4 Only Carlos is actively still supporting Lando

user5 The dude has beef with Piastri, even before in Osc’s rookie year

user6 Carlos is very protective of Lando I guess

user7 Protective of Lando?? Dude the man is a grown adult! Carlos has beef with Oscar for a whole different thing I’m sure

user8 Everyone let us thank McLaren for the drama in and off track! you’ve made our lives more fun

user9 Ikr? might be torture for the people involved but its so entertaining for us. Lmao sorry Oscar.

user10 Max switching sides from Lando to Oscar is so freaking funny. Max is full out ignoring Lando

user11 Oh what i would give to know the tea behind that

user12 you know what would be iconic? Oscar throws another party

user13 Throw a party and invite all Mclaren then dip before it would even start

user14 ngl that screams Oscar fr

user15 I can’t wait for the race later! it would be carnage on track!!

user16 I’m watching Oscar for sure. Boy looks absolute mad during the qualifying.

skysports live

*paddock , track side*

-Oscar, just do your job and please keep your mouth shut. You’re under probation and comments against the team won’t make it any better-

-Yeah, yeah… why not fire me while you’re at it-

-Hi, Peter! I’ll take it from here… Well hello to you Oscar. How’s it at the back of the grid?-

-Great to see you too Lando. Yeah, it’s alright. It keeps me humble, not that you would know what that means-

-Oh, You’ll be more humble when I win today-

-Sure… not till you bottle turn 1 and lose the lead. Y’know like you always do-

-Lando, Oscar! What are you two doing back here? Oh yes, Oscar is in P17… can’t believe they’re considering you and not me. Tsk waste of a seat-

- Haha funny. Carlos, mate what are you even talking about?-

-That Red Bull seat shouldn’t be offered to you. Ferrari’s 2nd option shouldn’t be you!-

-What Carlos is saying is that you shouldn’t be offered seats or be driving at all, Mate. Honestly your better off back at Alpine. Good fucking riddance for us-

-Yeah, oh please fire me! and I’m not the one being replaced by Hamilton next year.

-Hijo de puta! You have the nerve?! -

-Whoa. Ok let’s all calm down. Oscar come with me-

-Oi! Charles were not done here. Oi!-

-Mate, what the hell??-

-Charles?? where are we going-

-Just keep walking. You cant stay out of trouble can you?-

-They came at me! I was seriously about to go my car. I swear, your teammate hates me. I didn’t do even anything to him-

-He’s loosing his seat, of course he’s pissed-

-Why at me?? Aren’t he supposed to be mad at you or even Lewis?-

-Ok, fine… you didn’t hear this from me. But Lewis’ contract isnt final with Ferrari and you are the next driver option-

-WHAT-

-So RedBull and Ferrari wants you… and Carlos wasnt even in the choices. So yes he’s livid and no he doesn’t like you-

-Oh…-

-Yeah, Oh. So get your act right and drive your ass off today. And maybe I or Max might have a new teammate next year-

*End of Oscar’s POV

Y/N.

liked by y/b/f , alexandrasaintmleux, markwebber, and others

Y/N. Here with you, no matter the goal. Always

tagged @oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri No matter the destination. Always

liked by author

mclaren Drop by the garage @y/n. we miss you!

redbullracing she’s with us today 😏

scuderiaferrari We have next dibs! 🤪

user1 why is redbull and ferrari in y/n’s comments??

user1 get married already!

user2 Y/N and Oscar support each other so much 🥺

user3 Wouldn’t be surprised if the two of them would elope or already be married.

user4 Oscar needs all the support right now.

user3 yeah thats sweet and all. But when are we getting the album tho??

user4 let Y/N have fun and take her time.

user5 I’m expecting a breakup and a love album at this point from you ms @y/n.

user6 Mom… Y/N and Oscar are being mysterious again. I’m scared

user7 I’m scared too 🥹

user8 like what goal are they talking about??? gettingg married?? starting a family?? change in careers??

user9 I need answers 🙂‍↕️

Notification: You missed a call from Manager Kim*

Notification: Manager Kim sent you a voice message*

-I see, you’ve made your choice. Don’t regret it. I’m done working with you-

Would you like to call Manager Kim back?

Yes or No

No

*RedBull Racing Motorhome: Lobby

-Hey, Y/N. You ready to go to Max’s garage? -

-Hi, Kel and hello P! yeah lets go-

-You ok, Y/N? is everything alright?-

-Hmm? yeah, yup. I’m ok. Just a lil weird not being in Oscar’s garage. Let’s go to the track! -

-Okay~ If you say so. P, can you hold auntie Y/N’s hand for me please? Mommy has alot to carry -

-Thanks, P! and thank you Kel-

-Yeah, I’m not stupid Y/N. Something is up I know it. But I won’t push you… i’m here if you need me, yeah?-

-Thanks Kel… -

F1

Liked by user1, user2, and user3

F1 And we have our podium drivers!! What a race indeed. 🏆

tagged @maxverstappen1, @charles_leclerc, and @oscarpiastri

user1 HOW IS OSCAR HERE??? P2? WHAT A DRIVE!!

user2 Man drove like a beast! His driving today was insane 🔥

user3 Oscar took yesterday’s qualifying personally 💀

user2 Lando being pole to p6 is just 🤡

user3 and his teammate started at P17 … is P2

user4 I can’t defend the man anymore

user5 Max and Charles really gave Lando a hard time during the first few laps huh

user6 Lando was so agitated in the team radio 😮‍💨

user7 I dont if i want to laugh or cry at Lando’s luck

user8 Charles defending P2 from Oscar was amazing driving, but Oscar was on smth else today!!

user9 Lando bottled the start. Gasp! … anyways.

user10 why aren’t we surprised 💀

user11 Isn’t anyone gonna comment about McLaren ordering Oscar to stand down?? Hello??? what was that?

user12 Not them ordering Oscar not to overtake Lando 🤢

user13 I’m so happy Oscar ignored team orders!

user14 Oscar deserves that driver of the day for sure!! Masterclass driving. He is a future WDC, i’m betting my house!!

Series Taglist : @champagneproblems17 @itsjustfranzi @cheriwritesig @forza-charles @awritingtree @sltwins @gr1mes-cc @hwalllllllelujah @btsfluffsworld @tillyt04 @landotd @booksandflowrs @czennieszn @thatsouthernblondewiththeass @tellybearryyyy @wobblymug @alittlechaotics-blog @bingussthirdtoe @mirrorball-6 @demandealalune @heartsforleclerc @yoongi-holland @maneskin-slave @alenix @forensicheart @bloodyymaryyy @stereading @hahahjej @youre-on-your-ownkid : closed

Maintaglist : @myescapefromthislife @peterholland04 @charlottef1 @fangirl125reader @mel164 @gnarlycore @chloelovesln4 @vickykazuya @merchelsea @ln4author @qzmef @nxk1309 @styl1shl1v @lottalove4evelyn @gr3yhues : closed for now

[kianamaiart]

Hi Kiana! Been following before the IDWTBAMG work, but I'm a fan of the concept lol. It's been really cool to see it start taking off like it has already! I've been wanting to ask some questions for a while, about how to-- not get a project popular exactly, I believe you've touched on your scenario there-- but how one might go about both getting it going and start getting it seen? I could be more specific if you'd like, but I'd hate to ramble in an ask, lol. Anyway, I would love if you happen to have any advice there, no troubles either way!

Aw thanks for your support!!

For getting going, just make sure it’s something you’re passionate about and want to do! It’s a time sink for sure and it takes a lot of work. That’s been the issue for me in the past. Just not liking the ideas I had previously enough to be consistent. This time around, I had so much fun working on the project at every step and didn’t get burnt out on it.

If you were talking more about on the production side and planning, I think it’s helpful to make general deadlines for yourself and gauge who’d be able to help on your project (and also your budget).

As for getting it seen, I’m not really sureeee. I’m lucky in that I’ve built up this following I have over the past 10+ years. So I have the fortune of having somewhat of a built in audience. But without that, genuinely just posting a lot, watching those analytics and finding optimal posting times on as many platforms as possible is a good way to get eyes. Occasional sneak peeks keeps up interest, getting people who are working on it to post about it too also helps~

Hopefully this is useful info haha

[thesevenwondersofawitch]

This this this

I grew up homeschooled in a family where my parents basically had us fend for ourselves, while also discouraging us from doing any sort of activity or maintain friendships, so the vast majority of my life was spent feeling cut off and inadequate compared to my peers

Shockingly, I ended up having severe depression, (as did my siblings) and developed extremely unhealthy coping mechanisms and habits as a young teenager, as well as other mental issues.

When I finally was able to start the process of getting help(which truly didn't start until the last few years, despite me being in therapy a decade) and started to do things outside of my usual habits, such as going to school and also getting a job(despite my parents trying to discourage me on my bad days), I was now an adult and felt like there was so much I missed out on, especially when looking at my friends experiences at the same ages.

It's so easy to dwell on those thoughts and revert back to old habits, and even harder to try and work through them(like pushing myself to get out of bed, or go to a function with friends). So many people I know who don't have depression just assume it's a little bit of laziness and sadness, and act like everything would be fixed if I just listened only to happy music and refused antidepressants because my generation is 'overmedicated'. And while we definitely are over medicated, without those medicines, so many people (myself included) wouldn't be here.

While my depression is better, and thankfully I've been pretty good with catching up on lost time academic wise, I still struggle with depression and the fallout from everything that has contributed to it. I hang out with friends but almost always end up feeling drained or depressed afterwards, even though I'm around people I care about and like, and I know they feel the same, there is always that voice in my head that one day they're going to change their minds and realize I'm not worth it or that maybe they don't actually like me.

Depression takes a huge toll on my body, I am always tired and overwhelmed, and when I am around friends and peers I feel like I'm an imposter just hoping no one catches on and questions the fact I try to mimic others behavior in hopes I blend in better (even if it's something I know to do, I suddenly feel awkward and panicked and act like I've never dealt with it before, thus watching others and trying to copy movements/actions, even if it's something I'm very knowledgeable about/good at)

I am drained because I feel I have to put on a front that everything is fine, and I feel bubbly and happy all the time, because otherwise people think I'm ungrateful/slighting them, or there out of pity(my sister is someone who thinks all of those reasons unless I'm all happy on the outside). Even though so many times, I was looking forward to doing something or spending time with someone, but for no reason I can think of, I get struck by depression when the time comes, but I still want to take part, because I worry I'll regret missing out, so I go and spend the time trying to act how people want me to, which is exhausting.

It's taken years to get used to these bad days, and I am working to let myself have a breather or just listening to what my body needs when it happens, (I've been better lately and I'm proud of that, but I still struggle occasionally). It's taken years to learn to stop comparing my life with what my younger cousin or old friend is doing/has done by my age, (or if they've done even more), slightly less to learn to ignore the timeframe society(and family) deems is 'normal', and since then, my quality of life has been better.

All this to say, depression has ruled my life and I deal with that everyday, and it is hard to ignore the sadness I feel for my young self and all she never got to do. But, I made it to 23 (something my 13yr old self never thought would happen), and even tho I didn't get to experience things on what is considered a 'normal' timeline for people my age, I have a whole lifetime of experiences to look forward to, and while my depression may be a part of those, it won't be for all of them.

You know what people don’t talk about often enough? Playing catch up in life after spending your teens or early 20s suicidally depressed. There’s so many more layers than just being able to say “I don’t want to die anymore.”

The difficulty in academia or a career after spending years thinking you wouldn’t be alive long enough for any of it to matter.

The exhaustion that comes from self awareness and self soothing, with the constant voice in your head saying “don’t go backwards.”

How lonely it is to watch the people your age starting families when you’re just barely learning what stable relationships are, and the sudden societal pressure of being “up against a clock” for these kinds of things.

The judgement from others if you change your image or interests this late in the game just because you finally figured out who you really are under the demons.

Be kind to those who are developing and blooming after years of not planning on being here long. We are living a life we absolutely didn’t think we’d have, and it’s hard enough without society reminding us there’s expectations of our age.

We didn’t get to be young; we were too busy fighting battles few know.

-

[brucedefender4eva]

Thoughts on the magical powers of the bat-cape, shielder of many a Robin throughout the decades? It's one of my favourite images of all time: Hulking Batman with his baby birds literally hidden under his wing. MY HEART 💖💖💖💖🙏🙏🙏

Magic cape is always for the win!!!

Whether or not Bruce understands that his cape is magic doesn’t matter. I think it would be hilarious if he just, denies it lol. Like it’s doing its thing making him look fucking insanely creepy but Bruce is like “what are you talking about, magic doesn’t exist”

It could happen over a course of time. As he patrols and protects Gotham more throughout the years suddenly his cape seems to have a mind of its own (kinda like sentient Gotham giving her knight a better weapon.) Or maybe it was like that from the beginning and since Bruce was a lot more lax back then he kinda just accepted it with a shrug.

It’s big, it’s dark, it’s warm, and it always strangely smells like vanilla and cinnamon. The perfect place for birds to hide.

Dick did it once to hide from a criminal and it was like his eyes were opened. It is the one and only thing required to be passed down by all Robins, no matter how much you hate the new one. Required.

Unless it’s a high stress situation and being under the cape is for safety, any of the batboys fall asleep immediately.

Being in a safe place right next to their dad? Whether they like it or not Jason their bodies immediately relax and lose all tension

If there’s only one of them, instead of letting them sink into the liminal space that exists in the cape, Bruce will hold them. He will make any excuse to hold any of his children.

You can always tell when this happens, not because Batman’s stoic face changes at all, but because there is an air of ease and contentment around him

It only works for the batkids and Bruce has to be the one wearing it. If it’s not Bruce, then it just a regular cape, but once Bruce puts it on, it opens up just for his birds

Obviously, since Bruce has to be wearing it for it to appear, he’s never been inside. But he can reach into it and pull out a kid by the scruff of their neck if he has to. His kids would try and describe it but then they realize it’s different for everyone unless they’re actively trying to be together.

Like, unless Bruce says something beforehand or they see it with their own two eyes, they won’t know their sibling is also in there. Tim comes out of the cape and so does Damian and they had no idea the other was also in there (should’ve guessed, Bruce wasn’t trying to hold them)

It freaks out any superhero who sees it for the first time. Like Nightwing joins the Justice League and without explanation, just disappears into Batman’s cape??? He’s gone??? That’s a grown ass man?

Hal, ever the ballsy one, lifts up Bruce’s cape and its… nothing?? It’s just a regular cape, hiding Batman’s fucking fantastic ass. The League thinks Batman’s cape ears people and they’re wondering how to bring up this safety hazard when Nightwing pops back out holding a soda in a movie theater cup looking refreshed and relaxed

So many shenanigans, like a nice creepy cape that’s like a clown car attached to a man who can and has taken down gods before and will do it again but only easier.

[bucketbueckers]

I'D RATHER PRETEND

CHAPTER SEVEN

tags: @angryflowerwitch @avvwritesstufff @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @bueckersg1rl @l0verl4ne @clouded-whispers @dolliest-thena @katemartinlvr @numberonepartyanth3m @glamourdaya @pbbucks @unadulteratedcyclepaper @paiges-1vur @thelightknight21 wc: 5.5k notes: she master on my list til i chapter seven (im sorry i dont know what this is anymore) ummm im apologizing in advance for this chapter, it's pretty crucial but the first half is kinda buns and also i wish tess kennedy was real because she'd would stream the fuck out of crybaby by sza like thats her song. last chapter of angst but next chapter is tournaments and march madness and shit and we all know what happened so idk if its angst ? i just work here man. merry christmas eve btw, expect something later tonight to make up for this chapter 🎅 as always i hope we enjoy 🫶

‘Home for the Holidays’

November and December are hailed as the happiest times of the year. In November, families from all over reunite for Thanksgiving and toast to good times. December is home to Christmas and New Year’s Eve, where families bond over gift-giving and their shared hope for a successful year ahead. These two months are the most festive times of the year, but basketball fans are celebrating the holidays with new reasons to be thankful and joyous – Tess Kennedy and Paige Bueckers.

If you have been following us for a while, you may remember their long-awaited hard launch in June of 2023. They had a quiet few months between July and November, although those were incredibly busy times for the student athletes. Between summer practices, traveling, the start of the fall semester, and the start of the new basketball season, social media candids were far and between, although Bueckers and Kennedy certainly spoiled us during Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s.

Per their social medias, Kennedy spent Thanksgiving with the extended Bueckers family in Minnesota. She was only there for a few days, but the content was limitless – Bueckers’s sister, Lauren Fuller, shared a photo of Bueckers and Kennedy cuddled up in an armchair on Thanksgiving Day; similarly, Bueckers herself shared a family photo (which included Kennedy) where the entire family wore traditional, festive sweaters. Her caption was simple, only reading “Thankful 🙏”.

Throughout December, fans speculated if Bueckers and Kennedy would spend Christmas together. While it appears they spent Christmas Day separately with their families, Bueckers flew out to New York to spend the last three days of the year with Kennedy. They shared photos of their gifts – a sentimental bracelet charm for Kennedy and a rose thumb ring for Bueckers – then spent New Year’s Eve in New York City to watch the Times Square Ball Drop. A fan who was present in Times Square at the moment wrote to us and shared that Bueckers and Kennedy were each other’s New Year’s Kiss, although they disappeared shortly after midnight.

As the Gamecocks gear up to host the Huskies in early February, fans are eagerly awaiting the clash of the dynasties. Kennedy has not yet been cleared for play, but many supporters feel as though this matchup is a house divided. Critics question how Bueckers and Kennedy will be able to handle the pressure of competing against one another now that they are together, though a greater majority argue that they are mature enough to not let their relationship interfere with the game. Marriage politics aside, we are eagerly awaiting this thrilling match up between South Carolina and Connecticut, and cannot wait to see what February 11th has in store for us.

-Penelope Lancaster, Bleacher Report

FEBRUARY 2024

To no one’s surprise at all, Tess and Paige don’t talk about New Year’s.

Tess knows how she feels about Paige. She’s not concerned about her feelings suddenly changing for Paige overnight, not after how nice New York was in general. It was the first time they’d truly spent romantic, alone time out in public without regard for the press. New York was crowded – they walked down the streets late at night and many didn’t care to bother them. They had sat in a secluded spot during dinner where they flirted all night, toeing the line between pretend and for real. When they watched the ball drop, they were in a pretty secluded place, too, and most of the crowd was full of a bunch of inebriated party-goers. Tess had an amazing time in New York, and if anything, her feelings for Paige only got worse and harder to hide.

The issue is Paige doesn’t mention anything. At all. It’s like it didn’t even happen. If Tess didn’t spend almost every minute of every day thinking about it, thinking about how Paige kissed her fucking scar and said she was beautiful, then she’d worry that she just imagined it all. It’s agonizing because she knows where she stands but she just can’t figure out how to ask Paige about it. She can’t just call her up and say something like, hey, remember how you fucked me within an inch of my life on New Year’s? Did that mean anything to you? That was not happening. So, here they are – back at square one.

Things are fine the first week of January. They text where they can. Coach Staley is slowly working Tess back into practice. Her past few months of PT have been full of insurmountable growth and Tess feels better than she has in ages. She’s so close to getting back on the court, and when she’s not stressing about her situation with Paige (which she stresses about pretty often), all she can think about is how quickly March is approaching and how soon she’ll be back playing. A new basketball redshirting rule had been finalized – an athlete would be able to play up to five games after suffering an early injury (whether it be offseason, preseason, or early in the regular season) that forces them to miss most of the season and still hold on to an extra year of eligibility if they healed completely before the end of the season. It seemed situational on paper, but Tess passed the board consideration with ease after she demonstrated that she was in good health and her doctor confirmed that she’d be fully healed and safe to play by March.

So with Tess getting busier, and knowing that Paige is incredibly busy, too, she doesn’t think too much of it when they text once or twice a day. A good morning here, a how’s practice? there. Things aren’t bad. They’re just…okay, which is strange. It’s like they don’t know how to act around each other. Tess is sure she knows why. She shouldn’t have been so sure that her relationship with Paige would stay the same after they had sex, because why would it? They could argue they were blurring the lines when they’d nap together and kiss, but now, the line isn’t even there and everything is just so confusing. 

Tess microdoses a crash out the entirety of January. She can tell that something is wrong but nothing is wrong at the same time. Paige pretends like nothing has changed. Maybe it hasn’t. Maybe this is what happens when you let yourself fall in love with someone you’re supposed to be in a fake relationship with. This is what happens when you agree to casual and then you can’t keep it casual. She let her feelings for Paige get out of hand and now she’s facing the repercussions of that. The worst part is that the only person Tess can actually be mad at is herself. It’s not Paige’s fault that she’s funny and kind and charming and beautiful and sarcastic and gentle and intense and magnetic and literally everything Tess didn’t even know she wanted in a partner until she allowed herself to yearn for something more. Bree and Kamilla warned her – they told her she needed to focus on recovery, not Paige; they told her she couldn’t get caught up in her, and against her better judgement, she did. Now, everything is messy, and the only person at fault is Tess.

Then February comes around. South Carolina was set to host Connecticut on the 11th. Maybe she and Paige would be able to talk after the game and finally get their minds straight.

Or so Tess hoped.

FEBRUARY 11, 2024

Tess spends the entirety of warm-ups nervous as hell. Her shot is off, her handles weak. She’s thankful she’s not playing in this game because at the rate she’s bricking, she’d lose the game for South Carolina by the second quarter. Eventually, she gives up on shooting and decides to rebound for Raven and Bree. That doesn’t go well either. Standing under the basket puts Paige directly in her line of vision, and tearing her eyes off of her is a task easier said than done. The last time they saw each other in person was at the airport on New Year’s Day. Tess knows she’s standing only a court away from the same Paige who’d carried her into the bathroom when her legs didn’t work, though part of her wonders what happened in the month they were gone that would make her doubt that. Her hair is up in the same game day style that Tess knows so well by now, her face impassive, the gleam of sweat shining under the arena lights. Tess can’t look away. Part of her wants Paige to look at her, to give her something to work with, but Raven draws her out of her thoughts with an impatient ball to the ass.

“Ouch!” Tess exclaims, rubbing her cheek, although it didn’t really hurt. She watches Raven bend down to grab the ball with a smirk on her face.

“I know you ain’t playing, but some of us are, and we’d appreciate it if you stopped making bedroom eyes at your girl,” Raven sasses. She shoots the ball from the free throw line and it swishes in seamlessly. Tess catches it as it falls and passes it back her way.

“I am not making bedroom eyes,” Tess grumbles. Raven huffs out something akin to laughter, backing up to shoot the ball from the top of the key. It clangs off the rim and Tess smiles at her. “Karma,” she says as she passes it back. “That’s why we be nice to Tess Kennedy.”

“Tess Kennedy needs to be nice to us and lock the fuck in,” Raven states, shooting again. It goes in and Tess passes it back. “Y’all been together, what – eight months now, nine? This long and y’all actin’ like a middle school couple?”

Tess rolls her eyes, blushing, but she doesn’t entertain the conversation anymore. “I’m not playing. I don’t need to lock in. You need to worry about getting the ball through the net and not my love life.”

“Damn,” Raven says, kissing her teeth. “I get it now. You need to get laid.”

“Do you want a rebounder or not?”

Raven, blessedly, shuts up, but Tess casts one last glance across the court. Paige is sitting on the Huskies’ bench, her pant leg rolled up while a shorter woman kneels in front of her and prods at her knee. Tess almost thinks nothing of it until she watches a smile spread across Paige’s face, the way the woman’s hand lingers on her leg as she looks up, a beaming expression of her own on her face. Oh, Tess thinks. Okay.

Bree has been right about every single thing she’s ever said to Tess and Tess was stupid enough to sit there and think that Bree was overreacting. The humiliation burns low in her gut, but combined with anger, a deep sadness, and a thick terror, Tess feels like she’s going to be sick.

She barely pays attention to the game once it starts. She locks in for the first few possessions – South Carolina wins the tip-off, Te-Hina scores, then Paige scores, then Te-Hina with a three-pointer. South Carolina ends the first quarter in the lead, 19-11. It should make her happy, it’s her team, but the sudden tension between her and Paige makes her queasy. By halftime, South Carolina still holds a healthy lead, 44-30. Tess follows her team and her coach into the locker room, glancing once more at Paige as she regroups with her team, and she can’t help but feel like something’s wrong.

Tess doesn’t listen to anything Coach says while they’re in the locker room, lost in nervous thought. Halftime passes, then she’s back on the bench for the third quarter, her knee bouncing up and down. The quarter passes. 69-44 South Carolina. The fourth quarter starts. It ends. 83-65 South Carolina. When the final buzzer and her team celebrates, Tess can’t find it in herself to be happy about it. Bree and Raven jostle her, cheering, but her eyes are firmly locked on Paige, who stands from the bench to receive her teammates.

They line up for handshakes. When Tess and Paige reach each other, Paige doesn’t even glance at her, half-heartedly saying, “Good game,” and Tess scoffs loudly. That finally gathers Paige’s attention, whose head snaps back to look at Tess indignantly, but Tess is over it. She moves on, annoyance and fear simmering beneath her skin. If that’s the game that Paige wants to play, then Tess will play.

She gathers her belongings from the locker room in record time, telling Bree to not wait up for her as she walks through the halls briskly. Her phone has been blowing up ever since the pressers ended. Knowing that the countless text messages and missed calls are from Paige, she pays it no mind as she silences her phone so she can return to her apartment in peace. Paige had a month to suddenly remember she cared about her. She had the entirety of the afternoon – yes, they were opponents, and Tess would be content to leave it at that if she knew there wasn’t something else going on. She wasn’t born yesterday despite the fact that Paige seems to think so.

When Tess finally makes it back to her apartment, she leaves her duffle bag in her room as she makes her way into the kitchen to make some coffee. The caffeine will undoubtedly make sleep difficult, but Tess can’t find it within herself to care. She’s nearly shaking from rage because what the fuck is even going on? Things were weird – she made her peace with that, but this cold shoulder bullshit is getting old, fast, and Tess doesn’t even know where they went wrong.

The coffee trickles out of the Keurig and Tess stares at it numbly. It finishes, then she dumps sugar and creamer inside and stirs. It burns her tongue when she drinks it, but Paige has her so pissed off she barely registers it. She needs food, or a hot shower, or maybe a couple episodes of TV to get her mind off of the last few weeks of bullshit. Before she can sit down, there’s a few impatient knocks at the front door.

Tess sighs, thinking Bree had forgotten her keys, but when she opens it, she wishes she’d checked the peephole first. Paige stands outside with an obviously annoyed expression, and Tess is honestly tempted to shut the door on her. Paige beats her to the chase. “Let me in,” she says, her tone not indicative of a request. “I’m not havin’ this conversation out here.”

Tess laughs again, mostly in disbelief, but lets Paige inside and shuts the door. “Didn’t seem like you wanted to do a whole lot of talking earlier,” she points out.

Paige rolls her eyes, crossing her arms. “Is that really what you’re pissed about? I didn’t talk to you before the game?”

“Okay, this is what we’re doing?” Tess demands. “Don’t act so fucking naive. You sat there and pretended like I didn’t exist. The media is going to eat that shit up, Paige. They’re going to say that we’re fighting, or breaking up, or–”

“The media’s gonna eat it up anyway, Tess, that’s what they do!” Paige exclaims, exasperated. “They’re vultures. If I showed up and acted like I was in love with you or some shit, the media’s gonna say I’m too worried about you and not worried enough about my game. They’re going to say that I’m throwing the game to make you feel better about not playing. They’re already saying we’re not mature enough to compete against each other!”

“Are we?” Tess asks. “You act weird for a month, like I don’t even fucking matter to you, and you barge into my apartment like you suddenly care about me again?”

“I wasn’t acting weird,” Paige defends, though her entire demeanor shifts.

Tess scoffs. “You weren’t? God, Paige, I know you were busy, but you changed. Something changed, we changed, and you’re pretending like nothing happened. I feel like I’m losing my mind. I know something is wrong with us and you’re not giving me anything to work with! And then, you can’t even fucking look at me, but you can smile at that woman and you let her touch you?”

Paige blinks once before her gaze hardens. “You mean the trainer? If you have sum’ to say, then say it with your chest, Tess.”

Tess doesn’t even realize she’s crying until the tears burn her cheeks on the way down. She gestures wildly with her hands as she explains. “The only reason why your manager placed you with me was because you slept around and people started noticing.” Paige recoils, as if struck, like she immediately understands where Tess is going with this. “So what am I supposed to think? Fuck, you barely talk to me, you can’t even look at me, and another girl’s touching on you like that? When I told Bree about us, she said it looked like I was just your new flavor. She told me I’d end up being just another notch on your bedpost. She was right. I spent months defending you and looking like a fucking idiot because you told me it wasn’t true, and I believed you?” Tess hiccups, her chest constricting. “When you said you could do casual, I didn’t know that included cruel, too.”

Paige is silent for a moment before huffing. “You caught feelings, didn’t you?” she asks, suddenly looking terrified, and Tess feels her blood run cold.

“What?”

“You caught feelings,” Paige says, like it all makes sense. Her eyes are wide and panicked as they water. “You caught feelings and, what, you thought that changed things?” Paige’s voice cracks. Tess flinches. “We agreed we couldn’t let this get out of hand. You agreed. You couldn’t separate your feelings from the job we had to do and you’re pissed at me about that?”

Tess is breathing heavily by the time Paige finishes. Her nails are likely drawing blood from how hard they’re digging into her palms. She doesn’t care. She’s sure she could deny, deny, deny, but what good could it do either of them? Tess is fucking over it. Her reputation wasn’t worth it. She would give up all of her brand deals and her public image if only it’d hurt less.

“You know what?” Tess cries. “I did catch feelings for you! I’m in love with you, you asshole, is that what you wanted to hear? Yes, I broke our rules, but you broke them first when you kissed me in that fucking hotel room and told me that I didn’t have to be scared with you. Did that mean anything to you? Did it mean anything to you when you told me that we ‘didn’t have to label it’ and we could ‘just be us?’ You told me I didn’t have to be scared and I gave you everything, Paige, literally every-fucking-thing. I gave you my heart, my first kiss, my fucking virginity on New Year’s, and you just pretended like none of that happened. You pretended like you didn’t even care about me or what we did. And maybe I was just stupid enough to think that would have mattered to you.”

The apartment is agonizingly silent for a moment as Paige stares in near disbelief, looking as though Tess just pulled the rug out from under her. She looks shell-shocked, like she wasn’t expecting Tess to admit that she was in love with her, like she wasn’t expecting Tess to blame her for all of this. Then, in a weak voice, she says, “I was your first?”

The laugh that rips from Tess’s throat is watery, surprised despite herself. “That’s what you’re concerned about?”

“Tess–”

She raises her hands, backing away, her fingers shaking with rage. “No, you know what? I shouldn’t even be surprised.” Paige takes a cautionary step towards her, but Tess takes two more away from her, her gaze disappointed and somber. “God, you are such an asshole.” She opens the door, stepping out, but meets Paige’s eyes. “Lock my fucking door before you leave,” she says, then slams it shut behind her. Paige doesn’t chase after her. She’s not sure if that relieves her or distresses her.

Tess doesn’t even know where she’s going, but her legs do. She buries her hands in her hoodie pocket, the chill of the weather freezing the tears to her face. She doesn’t bother wiping them as she makes her way down the sidewalk, down to Senate street, and before she knows it, she’s walking into the Tin Roof, the bar she used to haunt before sobriety.

She knows she should leave. She’s surrounded by people of varying levels of drunkenness, and the stench of alcohol makes her nose wrinkle. She’s ten months sober – that’s a lot of progress down the drain, but she’s hardly thinking as she slides into a seat at the bar.

“Rough day?” the bartender asks kindly, wiping the inside of a glass.

Tess snorts, finally wiping her eyes with the sleeves of her hoodie. “You have no idea,” she jokes, and the bartender’s laugh makes her feel a little better about herself.

“What’ll it be?”

Tess pauses for a while, taking a deep breath. What is she doing? She doesn’t know the answer to that, but she just doesn’t want to hurt. Her knee, her mind, Paige. But she knows it’ll just hurt even more if she goes down that path again, so she says, “Can I just get a sprite, please? And like, a small cup of cherries, if that’s possible? I’ll pay.”

The bartender nods, already reaching for a clean glass and using the soda gun to fill it with sprite. “No worries, okay? On the house.” Tess opens her mouth to argue, but she figures she’s had enough of arguing today, so she just quietly thanks the bartender as she fills a small serving bowl with maraschino cherries. She slides both the drink and the cherries her way with a smile. Then she’s off to help someone at the other end of the bar.

Tess pops a cherry in her mouth, feeling a little more regulated, and takes a sip of her sprite. The TV in front of her is playing the Stanford-Washington State game. Cameron Brink is an incredible player. Tess might like to play with her someday.

They go into a media timeout when Tess feels someone slide into the stool next to her. She doesn’t have to look up from her sprite to know it’s Paige, the scent of her perfume filling her nose. Neither of them say anything for a while as Tess eats her cherries and drinks her sprite, but Paige finally breaks the silence when she says simply, “I’m sorry.”

Tess hardly reacts. “How’d you know I was here?”

“You still share your location with me,” Paige admits. “I’m sorry.”

Tess laughs humorlessly. “Yeah. I heard you the first time.”

“I mean it.”

Tess finally glances at Paige. She’s drawn into herself, her lips pursed, eyes guilty. Tess knows her well enough by now. She truly does mean it, and maybe that’s the worst part. She knew Paige better than she knew herself and still didn’t expect Paige to break her heart like this.

“I’m sorry for what I said. For ignorin’ you at the game today, for actin’ indifferent after New Year’s.” Paige swallows thickly. “I’m sorry for making you doubt how much I care about you. I’m sorry about the trainer situation – that did look weird as hell.” That makes Tess laugh quietly. “I’m sorry for accusing you of catching feelings. I was a dick.”

“Wasn’t an accusation,” Tess says. “It was the truth.”

“It was an accusation ‘cause I acted like I was blameless,” Paige clarifies, which confuses Tess. She’s silent for a beat, drumming her fingers on the bar. “Do you regret New Year’s?”

“No,” Tess answers without hesitation. That makes Paige smile a little bit. “I don’t think I ever could. Not when it was with you.”

“Why did you never tell me it was your first?” Paige asks quietly.

“Would you have done it if you’d known?”

Paige smiles somberly at her. “I woulda done it nicer. More romantic and shit. I defiled you and then you went home to your parents. I should send them an apology card.” Tess can’t help her burst of laughter. She buries her head in her hands, shaking her head, knowing that her response was so wholly Paige that it was kind of sickening.

“It was…intimidating,” Tess says slowly, lifting her head. “I’m not experienced. At all. You were my first in so many ways and none of it was even real. That’s embarrassing to admit because you’re the complete opposite of that.”

Paige scratches the back of her neck. “Not really.”

“No?” Tess inquiries.

Paige inhales deeply. “I know you have no reason to believe me, but I never…slept around. I slept with one girl before you and she was my first. We were together. Didn’t end well. I dated around for a bit and she spread the rumor that I was sleeping with them. Couldn’t really address the rumors, my brands were freaking the fuck out, my manager suggested a PR relationship… Rest is history.”

Tess suddenly feels like a complete idiot. She lays her head down on the bar as she groans, completely embarrassed. “You sat there and let me call you a whore?” she demands, her voice a silent hiss. “Oh my God. I’m literally such a jerk. Why did you never say anything?”

“Was embarrassing,” Paige says, shrugging a shoulder.

Tess huffs, quirking a smile. “Touche.”

“When did you realize?” Paige asks. “That you were in love with me.”

“In New York, when we were walking to Times Square,” Tess admits. Paige exhales sharply. “I’m sure I felt it for a while. I just couldn’t name it. But…we were walking, and you looked so pretty in the city lights, and I was thinking about when we first met, in Gampel. I wanted to get to know you then. Playing against you was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. But I missed my shot and it’s just…insane to think about the fact that almost three years after that, we’d be in New York together. And then you smiled at me and squeezed my hand and you were my New Year’s kiss. It was inevitable.”

Paige glances at her. “I realized I was in love with you after dinner, the day before.”

Tess can hear her heartbeat in her ears. She turns to stare at Paige, almost waiting for Paige to admit that it was just some sick joke, but the blonde is gazing at her fondly. “You what?”

“I realized I was in love with you after–”

“No, I heard you,” Tess says, laughing in disbelief. “There’s just no way you mean it. Not after you said ‘you caught feelings and thought that changed things.’”

Paige sinks into herself, looking guilty again. “I didn’t mean that,” she says. “I was scared. I know, stupid excuse, but it scares me, Tess. I’ve never loved anything or anyone like I love you. I’ve never really had anything permanent. My parents divorced when I was three. When I was old enough to realize what that meant, I felt like, I’on know, I wasn’t enough for them to stay together. I love my step-parents but… it was so easy for them to love someone else. It’s stupid–”

“It’s not stupid, Paige,” Tess interrupts, her heart hurting, suddenly understanding.

Paige’s smile is somber. “I dated around to find something that would last, but it never worked. It’s lonely being me. Nobody gets it – the pressure, the expectations, the sacrifice. I felt like I was searchin’ for something I couldn’t find until I got to know you and realized I was looking for someone like you. ...For you specifically.” Tess has no words for that, her pulse thrumming in her chest. Paige sighs. “When I said what I said to you, I thought I was protectin’ you. I’m not someone who lasts. I’ve never been good at long-term, but, fuck, Tess, I want long-term with you. I didn’t wanna hurt you. I was scared that I would, so I said all that ‘cause I thought you’d maybe move on from me and find someone you deserved. And I ended up hurting you, anyway.

“I realized I was in love with you after dinner,” Paige says again, undeterred. “You were wearin’ my sweater and you looked so fuckin’ beautiful. Then you fell asleep with me and I called Aubrey. I told her I thought I was in love with you – and you were layin’ there, jus’ soft, and happy, and I thought, ‘I can’t hurt her.’ But I’m selfish. I wanted to keep you. I meant it when I said you don’t gotta be afraid with me. And I only said we didn’t have to label anything ‘cause I didn’t want to lose you. I never thought we’d be here – never thought you’d love me, too, so I just wanted to enjoy it while nothin’ was wrong. It all mattered to me, Tess, everything mattered to me; every time you called me, when you trusted me, when you first held my hand, when you first kissed me, when you let me show you how much I loved you even though we didn’t have the words for it yet. It all mattered to me and I’m so fuckin’ sorry I acted like it didn’t.”

The two of them sit in contemplative silence for a while. Tess can hear – and feel – each and every one of her heartbeats. For a long time, this is all she’s wanted to hear from Paige, the apology, the explanation for the private parts of her she couldn’t ask about, the I’m in love with you, too. Now that she has it, she doesn’t want to fuck it up, but all of this is so scary. It was easy to deal with the emotions when they were in New York and nothing was wrong, when it was easy to pretend that they could have all of the love without the ugly parts. Now, they’re forced to see all of each other. They have so much more to lose now.

Tess has historically made a bad habit out of getting in her own way. She overthinks constantly. It’s Murphy’s Law – if it can go wrong, it will go wrong. She scares herself out of opportunities. But when she just stops thinking and lets things happen, she builds rickety foundations in her relationships. All of the times she thought she was saving herself heartache by avoiding the difficult conversations just so she can keep Paige have backfired on her. It led to their argument on Thanksgiving, to their argument now. Had she been a little more honest to Paige, to herself, about how she felt, then perhaps she could have saved the both of them months of anguish.

So, Tess meets Paige’s hopeful eyes, and she says carefully, “We can’t keep hurting each other like this.”

Paige exhales, not expecting that response, but she nods. “I know,” she agrees. “Whatever you want, I’ll do it – just… fuck, I don’t wanna get on that bus tonight and not be yours. For real. You’re all I want, Tess. I can’t let you slip away from me again.” Paige searches Tess’s expression, her eyes wide and yearning and pleading. Tess can’t help but soften. Haven’t they been through enough? Wondering what was real and what wasn’t, suffering through arguments when they could have easily fixed their problems with a conversation. Tess doesn’t want to go to sleep tonight and not be Paige’s, either. It’s all she’s wanted since June.

But Tess knows that they can’t pick up where they left off. They both have to heal, understand their relationship and its boundaries a little better, and for the love of God, get rid of those fucking rules (although the communicate one had some credence).

“I want to take this slow,” Tess says after a while. “We need to do this right.”

Paige relaxes, relief on her face as she nods in earnest. “I can do slow,” she promises. “Just want you.”

Tess cocks a smile, her gaze warm, and Paige’s expression is so full of love that it’s almost disarming. “Maybe we can start slow later?” she suggests, watching the gears turn in Paige brain.

Once it clicks, Paige doesn’t waste any time. She leans forward, one hand cupping Tess’s cheek, her kiss softer than anything Tess has ever felt before. She tastes like a promise, like the vow that they’re going to do right by each other from now on. The knowledge that this is real, that there’s no catch or stipulation or some stupid fucking rule, makes their collide sweeter. They were inevitable, tied together by one strand of fate; it’s taken them a while to get here, but Tess is Paige’s and Paige’s is hers, and that’s all Tess can ask for right now.

They eventually have to break away – Paige can’t stop smiling, which makes it difficult to do much of anything. Tess shoves her back with a hand to her chest, grinning softly. “You’re so fucking annoying,” Tess says, hopelessly endeared.

Paige just smirks proudly. “Not annoying. Just in love.”

Tess rolls her eyes fondly, drawing Paige in to murmur against her lips, “Same difference,” and in the same bar Tess almost threw her life away in, she kisses the woman she’s in love with, the woman who reminded her of its importance, and she knows everything is exactly as it should be.

[acanvasofabillionsuns]

[ID: The first image is a movie poster for the Dreamworks movie Home, showing Oh, a Boov (a wide, short, purple creature), Tip, a black girl, and a calico cat. The rest of the images are screenshots of sections of The True Meaning of Smekday, by Adam Rex.

In a ridiculously short amount of time, the Boov determined that humans were unwilling to mix peacefully into their culture. They pointed out all the people who fled instead of welcoming their new neighbors, even those whose homes had been taken outright. Captain Smek himself appeared on television for an official speech to humankind. (He didn't call us humankind, of course. He called us Noble Savages of Earth. Apparently we were all still living on Earth at this point.) "Noble Savages of Earth," he said. "Long time have we tried to live together in peace." (It had been five months.) "Long time have the Boov suffered under the hostileness and intolerableness of you people. With sad hearts I now concede that Boov and humans will never to exist as one." I remember being really excited at this point. Could I possibly be hearing right? Were the Boov about to leave? I was so stupid. "And so now I generously grant you Human Preserves—gifts of land that will be for humans forever, never to be taken away again, now." I stared at the TV, mouth agape. "But we were here first," I said pathetically.

The tent was strung with white Christmas lights and packed with people, all facing a stage on one end. And on the stage stood a redheaded man in a wifebeater with a Viking tattooed on his chest. People were booing him. "Shut up!" the redhead was saying. "I have the stage! All I'm saying is, now that we've all had to leave our real homes, we got a chance to get America right! There can be a place for the Saxon Americans, and a place for the coloreds, and a place for—shut up!"

"So every place has some kind of leader?" I asked. It had all happened so fast. "Sure. Most of them are former state governors, or senators, or whatever. The president runs a little town called Rye." "Just a little town?" "Yes..." said Mitch. "He's not very popular anymore, because of the invasion. People assume it was his fault somehow. But we have to have leaders. We have to have government." "I guess," I said. "Daniel Landry's district is far south of here," he said, "on some former Indian land." "Indian land? Like a reservation?" "That's right." "Is this Dan guy an Indian?" "I don't think so, no. I'm pretty sure he's white. He wasn't a governor or anything before, but he's really rich, so I imagine he's a good leader." "Uh-huh. But he's white," I said. "The Indians elected a white guy?" "Well...I don't know. I imagine all the other people elected him. It's mostly white folks living on the reservation now." I frowned. "And the Indians are okay with this?" "What do you mean?" "Well...it was a reservation," I said. "It was land we promised to the Native Americans. Forever." Mitch looked at me like I was speaking in tongues. "But...we needed it," he said.

"Mr. Hinkel," said the Chief, jerking his head toward the sleeping man. "He thinks Indians like me ought to live somewhere else. Likes to tell me about it a lot." I didn't really want to talk about Mr. Hinkel. "Well, maybe they'll let him go soon." "Doubt it," said the Chief. "Got beat up pretty good by someone who thinks gay people like him ought to live somewhere else."

The last excerpt from the book is in comic format, divided into four main panels. The first is captioned, "2,000 (two thousand) years ago - Many schools closed by the HighBoov, because Money is Needed Elsewhere. Boov are told not to worry about learning unimportant things. Boov are told to learn one useful thing that may be done over and over again and give their life meaning. HighBoov devise clever tests to find which Boov should be taught more, and which Boov should not be taught because Money is Needed Elsewhere." Boov are shown doing things like guarding, serving food, and taking care of children.

The second panel is captioned, "1,150 (one thousand, one hundred and fifty) years ago - Certain Boov who were taught many things announce that industry is polluting the waters of Boovworld." Boov in uniforms point to a chart of their world and gesture to something outside a window, presenting this information to other Boov in fancy outfits. "These scientist predict that the oceans soon will no longer be able to sustain life, unless things are changed."

The third panel is captioned, "1,149 (one thousand, one hundred and forty-nine) years ago - HighBoov declare that these warnings of pollution cannot be proven, so therefore nothing should be changed. The scientist Boov who gave these warnings are declared evil-evil that they should call our God unclean. These Boov are named the Forgotten and sent onto land into exile forever. Some of them die of asphyxiation. Most don't." A line of Boov trudge out of water onto land.

The fourth panel is captioned, "1,003 (one thousand and three) years ago - God dies of asphyxiation." There are many skeletons with lots of darkness in the background.

Plain text: "1,003 years ago, God dies of asphyxiation" End ID]

like the most politically neutered movie of all time unironically

[stray-cat-with-internet-access]

TW: angst, abusive relationship (not with Simon), toxic relationship (that´s with Simon), bruises, he is kinda mean but can you blame him?, he is your ex, curse words, no proofread we die like real men, english is not my first language wc: 1168

1:54am

He opens the door at your fifth knock and his jaw clenches at seeing you.

You have a nasty handprint bruise on your neck and he is already fuming, at the bastard who did this, but also at you. Simon´s your ex, and something keep pulling you to him every time you need aid, but never taking him back completely.

This is not the first time you run to him and he is not happy about it.

He lets you in, but curses and slam the door behind him

Coming close he backs you up against the wall, forehead close to yours

"You have to be fuckin jokin´ with me..."

His voice trembles with anger, maybe not the best approach, but he is getting tired of keep collecting your pieces back together

You avoid his gaze, a bit ashamed. You lick your lips, with no urge to start talking. He is not dumb and he already imagined what happened. Tears run down your face and that seems to anger him more.

A bitter scowl etches on his face, he is mad for many of the wrong reasons, but he is trying damn hard to keep himself in check

"Is this some sort of sick game to play with me, hm?" He whispered, voice trembling with anger “You think I like seeing you like this?”

"No!" You respond quickly, finally meeting his gaze. You felt stupid because he is right to be angry. You´ll accept any scowl and curse coming from him because deep down you know you deserve them.

"Why else would you keep coming back every damn time only for you to go back to him? To test me and see how much I still care for you? Do you get off on doing this? Don´t I have enough shit in my life?"

There it is, the bitter words finally spilling out

"Simon please, I don't have anyone else, pleas…" You yelped when he punched the door, finally backing away from you, running his hands through his hair

"I left him...for good this time..."

He stops pacing and looks at you, he doesn´t believe you, that anger rising up inside of him, why was she still doing this and why he kept letting himself drag back into her? He feels stupid

"I've heard that before"

"I swear to god" You’re trembling at this point, desperate to get some gentleness.

You showed him the backpack you were carrying, talking in whispers

"I left him the flat, I grabbed what I could and left"

There is a pang on his chest, of guilt this time, the bruise around your neck is prominent and he can't help but to feel like this time is not the same as before. He wants to touch you, to make sure you are okay, but he doesn't trust himself not to hurt you unintentionally because of his anger

"Show me your neck" He finally says through gritted teeth, his tone of voice still stern

Tears start running freely now, but you cry in silence, ashamed. You pulled the hem of the neck of your t-shirt, showing the purplish marks over your throat and clavicle

He curses again before inspecting it more closely

His eyes darken at looking at the bruises, he knows exactly who is to blame and his blood boils with rage, he is going to kill him after dealing with you, he is sure of it. He touches the purple skin gently, barely a feather caress on it, checking them out

"Does it hurt?" His voice a soft whisper now

"Only when I swallow" Hugging your arms around your middle, you look around his flat, avoiding his gaze

He denies with his head, a million thoughts racing through his head. He is still sore for your break up a year and something ago, terribly bitter that you were able to left him for his "violent" line of work and the repercussions that it left on him, but not the bastard treated you like shit. Yes, he was damaged goods, but he´d never lay a finger on you

He has to stop himself from saying something stupid, he shouldn't be this close, feeling so many things at once

"Go have a shower... " he said, walking to the kitchen to pour himself a bourbon

Walking past him with your head low you make a beeline to the bathroom. You know his place very well, and the sting of the good memories here make you cry a bit more

After undressing you hop in the shower, letting the warm water wash away your tears. The smell of his soap envelopes you, making you feel more calm

Simon is a difficult man, the fact that he even let you in after you fucked up so many times says more about his feelings that anything

You reappear at the living room a while after, a dark blue towel covering you. You are pale with dark circles under your eyes, but it´s a better sight than before.

You noticed he got dressed with jeans too, and was smoking by the window when he hears you come back, he can't help it as his eyes travel over you, his own towel around you like you were his again. He has to bite his tongue, to stop himself from making promises and saying a million things he wanted to

"Did you eat?"

"I'm not hungry" You kneeled next to the sofa to grab some clothes from your backpack and he walks to grab a hoodie from the back of a chair, and you catch a glimpse of the hilt of a knife on his waist when he put it on over his head.

He looks immersed with himself, unapproachable

He turns his head to look at you again. Dove eyes, that beautiful face and that ugly bruise… God, he is so fuckin tired...

He put out the cigarette in the windowsill and put his gloves on, he does not trust himself right now, this is the reason why he needs to go and put distance between the two of you. Besides, there´s someone he needs to pay a visit…

"Go to sleep... " He said, voice strained

Getting up slowly, you approach him softly, placing your hand on his shoulder

"Why don't you..."

It's a mistake, because he shoves your hand away and strides towards the door, grabbing his mask from the hall table and putting it in his back pocket

"Go to the fuckin bedroom"

He slams the door on his way out, leaving you frozen in place, tears running down your face

-

You´ll find him the next morning, asleep on his couch. His nails are dirty and the hem of his hoodie is darkened with a reddish rusty stain. Next to the door are a couple of boxes with your all your stuff from the flat you shared with your now ex- boyfriend. Seems like Simon moved you into his own place last night.

Dividers are from @saradika-graphics Cosplayer: @mrghost.cos on TikTok

[devildomwriter]

Here We Are As In Olden Days | Diavolo x Reader

.6K Word Count | GN! Reader | CW: broodmare kink mention, big family

You sat on the cushioned loveseat next to your husband of many years, flipping through a photo album of Christmas days past.

Diavolo smiled as you opened the book and the first page was the picture you’d snuck of him trying on a Christmas sweater because you thought it was cute. You had decorated the page with holiday stickers and wrote about how Diavolo quickly discovered the picture and had it printed for you as a joke gift.

As the pages flipped more memories rose to the surface. The first Christmas you’d spent as an exchange student. Santa had thrown out his back or something similar and you and the brothers scrambled to deliver gifts to the Devildom instead.

The second Christmas you’d spent when your personalities were drastically affected and you’d become a sadist. Diavolo had been very amused and Lsvitahn had been very turned on which kept distracting you from solving anything.

The third Christmas you spent the brother’s bodies has been taken over by strange little demons who you still had never identified. You had many pictures of them acting strangely and Diavolo posing in the background as chaos unfolded.

Your fourth Christmas in the Devildom when dark Santa had gone afoul and people began blaming Satan due to their names being similar. This was the same year Diavolo, Mephistopheles, and you helped deliver some gifts for Santa when his reindeer appeared in Mephistopheles’s yard.

Diavolo laughed at the memories as you continued to flip the pages. You shared what you remembered of those days long gone, and the sense of nostalgia was overwhelming.

Finally, you arrived at the most special of Christmases; the first one you’d spent together as a couple. Diavolo had made it as extravagant as possible.

The tree nearly hit the ceiling of the ballroom, every inch of the castle was decorated and even the staff had holiday-themed clothes. You’d felt bad for them at the time but it was a nice memory to look back on, seeing how much your future husband planned just so you’d be stress-free for the holidays.

You held Diavolo’s hand tightly in yours and flipped to the next year. In the photo, you sat posed in front of the camera in all your regalia. Diavolo had taken the throne that year and nothing was holding him back from spreading as much Christmas as he wanted to, so he’d called in professionals for a couple’s portrait of you in holiday-themed royal attire.

On the following page you had framed a Christmas postcard, the first family holiday card you’d sent to all your friends and family. You sat on Diavolo’s throne next to him as you both cradled your son, only a few months old.

As years past another child appeared and another and another again.

Diavolo hadn’t insisted on this many kids, you just happened to have a convenient broodmare kink and his DNA was incredibly strong. It just made every photo more interesting as everyone crowded into the photos.

You flipped more and more pages, memories piling up. Your children’s first Christmas. The first cards they’d made you. The postcards they’d sent you of their own families.

How many years had it been now?

The castle was never quiet but the sound of children running no longer echoed through the halls like it once did.

Everyone was grown with lives of their own and you and Diavolo remained as you originally did, side by side in each other’s arms.

You flipped to the last page of the album, the one you were still working on, and asked your husband for ideas.

He grinned and handed you two photos he’s been holding on to.

Unbeknownst to you, Diavolo had it arranged that the photo you took together this year was identical to the one you first took.

Despite all that time, you hadn’t much-aged thanks to your magic and his. It was funny seeing the two pictures side by side.

Despite all the changes over the years, it was evident in these photos that one thing would always remain the same—a merry Christmas with your prince.

[blackynsupremacy]

THIS CHRISTMAS

pairing: nicholas a. chavez x black!fem!reader

summary: celebrating christmas with your husband and daughter has never been sweeter.

contains: holiday cheer and fluff, established relationship, reader and nicholas are married, wife/mom!reader, husband/dad!nicholas, just holly jolly vibes, kissing, cuddling, a little suggestiveness, nicholas calls his daughter “butterfly”.

a/n: MERRY CHRISTMAS SHAWTIES!

taglist: @greengoblinswifey @thabiddie23 @hopefully-saturn @jkr820 @hoffmansgirl @austeenbootler @niteskysx @sabrinasopposite @thabiddie23 @hnch33rios @xoxoglittergossip @supaprettyg @motherismotheringggg @oscarisaackissmykitty @simply-lovley44 @elitesanjisimp @gxuxhdjdu @venic-bxtch @stargirl-mayaa @miguelspvssy

“mommy! daddy! wake up! it’s christmas!”

the elated voice of your five-year-old daughter, armani, woke you and your husband, nicholas, up out of your slumber as she was jumping at the foot of your bed in her pink, buffalo plaid pajama set along with a matching pink, silk bonnet to protect her freshly, braided hair with beads. with a yawn and stretch, your eyes slowly open to look over at the digital clock on your nightstand that read eight a.m. sharp.

“mhm—that’s right, ‘mani.” you rub the sleep out of your eyes to clearly get a glimpse of the pristine blanket of snow that covered every inch of the yard like a winter fantasy. you found that to be absolutely perfect for a day like this. you open your arms to your daughter who wastes no time to snuggle within your lap, you hug her to your chest and place a kiss atop of the silk of her headwrap.

“you ready to see what santa got you, my love?” you question with a whisper, armani hastily nodded, but she was hesitant.

“yeah—but, not without daddy.” she responded also in a whisper. you smile. armani loved you both immensely, but it was no lie that she was a daddy’s girl, so you let her do the honors. the little girl rolls over to shake your snoring husband’s shoulder.

“daaaaaddy! wake upppp!” she urged pushing him as if he were an hundred pound log that was impossible to move.

“nooo, five more minutes…” nicholas grumbled, pulling the covers tighter over his body.

“nuh-uh!” with a pout, armani shook her head. “i can’t waitttt! i want to see what santa got and i don’t want to do it without you, pleaseee!” with a pout she begged and crawled over nicholas, hoping her father would muster the strength to free himself from the warm cocoon of blankets. armani repeatedly tapped his head and shoulders, causing you to chuckle. you loved that she was tenacious, a true fighter who knows what she wants. nicholas couldn’t knock it at all. with a sudden burst of energy, his arm came around to entrap armani in an embrace in which she squealed loudly.

“daddy’s up now! good morning, butterfly.” he greets planting a kiss on the giggling girl’s cheek. you’ve always loved that nickname for her. when she was first born, he coined that for her because it was like she was in a cozy cocoon as a baby and as time passes by, she continues to grow and change into something as beautiful as a butterfly. you and nicholas were just a young twenty year old couple in college that happened to fool around one too many times which resulted in you getting pregnant. you were terrified because you thought that nicholas would surely leave, but it was the exact opposite. he was on his way to star in a soap opera and he still wanted to be there for you and his child, knowing he could support you both. it was a tough journey, but you found a love that grew deeper. when your daughter hit six months, nicholas popped the question. it wasn’t a huge wedding because you just didn’t have the time to plan all of it, but it was still a joyous day nonetheless.

armani excitedly greets him back with a kiss on his cheek, his eyes then land on you watching the whole thing as your melodious laughter fills the room. he observes with a mischievous grin,

“what’s so funny, gorgeous? i bet you want what she’s having. c’mere!” he quips and you try to protest, but it’s too late as you’re already scooped by nicholas’ free arm to be glued by his side while your daughter resides in his lap.

“merry christmas, girls!” he enthusiastically chimed and you simultaneously return the greeting. armani urges you both to get a move on and open some gifts. all on one accord, you and your family washed your faces and brushed your teeth before venturing downstairs to the lit, decorated living room with nicholas by your side and armani on his hip. she’s so spoiled! the christmas tree was a sight for sore eyes as presents galore were perfectly aligned around the tree.

“yaaaaaay!” armani squirms within her dad’s arms for him chuckle and release her to the floor, her tiny feet scurrying around not knowing which present to open first. you and your husband were exhausted from setting out these presents while armani was in a deep slumber, so you took a seat on the couch and took out your phone to capture this moment. armani was estatic as she opened every gift to reveal an item that she wanted on her list. a barbie dream house, lol dollz, squishmallows, and the top two for being extra good during her first semester of kindergarten: a brand new bike and a tenth generation pink ipad with an apple pencil.

“look what i got! you see it, mommy? look, daddy!” she ran up to you both to reveal the packaged devices in which you both will set up later for her.

“that’s awesome, butterfly! that’s what you get for being such a good girl all year. i’m so proud of you—now, what do we always say when we get something, hm?” nicholas communicates, leaning forward on his knees while caressing his thumb over the honey skin of his daughter’s face to which she grins. you coo at the interaction.

“thank you so much! this is the best christmas ever.” she comes in to individually give you each a hug.

“that’s my girl!” nicholas commends returning the hug.

“you’re welcome, ‘mani! santa’s glad you’re enjoying everything.” you say with a knowing wink towards your husband.

“i got something for you too! wait, don’t move.” she hurriedly ran upstairs to retrieve the gift she made in school which was expertly hidden in her bedroom until christmas. as armani walks down she calls out in the distance,

“i’m coming. close your eyes, okay!?”

you and nicholas smile, complying to her request. you could hear the patter of her tiny feet scurry to you closer.

“you can open them now!” she proudly announced. you and nicholas are amazed to see the crafted gifts your daughter put so much thought into. for you, she made a bracelet that resembled those from taylor swift’s eras tour, successfully spelling the word, “MOMMY”. although you weren’t a big fan, you can’t resist belting out some songs with armani when the opportunity is presented because she adores the singer. for nicholas, it was a calender for the upcoming year, featuring her own unique artwork for each month. armani made it because nicholas’ schedule can get so hectic, so she thought the calendar would help him to keep track, he cherished it with his entire being. you both could cry in gratitude, but you scoop her into a group hug with a simultaneous “thank you.” after exchanging gifts with one another as a couple, nicholas thought it would be a great idea to to bundle up in the new matching north face winter gear he gifted for the family to have some fun in the snow while it was still early.

armani didn’t need an ounce of candy from her stocking for her to bounce off the walls in anticipation as you all got washed up and dressed. as soon as you stepped foot outside, all you could do was stare in awe at how much snow covered the area. it was like straight out of a christmas movie. you could already hear the soft clacking of your daughter’s hair beads as she moved around to scope the yard.

“be careful walking, baby girl, i don’t want you to fall, ‘kay?” you instruct and she responds with a nod.

“yes, ma’am. may we go now, daddy?” she questioned to nicholas, tugging on his arm. he looked at you both a mischievous smirk. lord, what is this man up to now?

“i don’t see why not, butterfly—the last one to make a snow angel is a stinky grinch!” he exclaimed to let go of armani’s hand to get a head start into the icy, white powder on the ground.

“oh, no he didn’t! c’mon, ‘mani.” you giggle and race with your daughter to follow after nicholas. before you know it, you’re all in your own space of snow, sprawling your limbs up and down to sculpt the perfect snow angel in the frosted covered earth. nicholas was first to get up from his spot to marvel at the indention he made. like the strong gentleman he is, he reaches out his arms for you and armani each to get you out of the snow. you take your phone out to snap a photo of the family of angels. as you were saving it to a special album in your phone, you didn’t expect for your back to be pelted by a speedball of ice, causing you to yelp at the sensation. you turned slowly with a playful menacing glare towards nicholas and armani who seem to look so “innocent”.

“a’ight. ‘fess up! who did that?” you interrogate them, crouching to the snow as you plot to get your lick back. once your icy spheres of ammo are locked and loaded within your gloved hands, you give them one more chance only for them to point the finger at each other.

“it was daddy!” armani defended.

“nah, don’t listen to her, babe. i swear i saw the whole thing. it was definitely armani.” nicholas rebutted with his hands up in surrender. you smirk with a low chuckle as if you were a supervillain,

“then i guess you leave me no choice.” you say, lifting your arms to aim the snowballs before throwing them in their direction to hit nicholas in his chest and armani in her stomach, causing you all to laugh, but now this means war. you all spent the next hour with your family running around the yard trying to see who can get the most hits followed by building your own snowman. you notice your daughter starting to shiver from the cold and that was your cue to go back inside for breakfast.

after dressing comfortably in a fresh pair of matching pajamas, nicholas sets the atmosphere by gathering some wood to burn in the fireplace while you and armani put the spread of breakfast along with mugs of hot chocolate together on the table. everybody took their seats, it was a lovely meal where you ate and talked about anything under the sun. you all took turns to decorate your hot chocolate with whip cream, chocolate sauce, and sprinkles. you giggle seeing that nicholas went overboard with the whip cream. after he took a sip from the red mug, it was all over his nose and upper lip.

“butterfly.” he calls, causing armani to turn her head. once she gets a glimpse of nicholas’ appearance, the room was instantly filled with her giggles.

“can i get a kiss?” he requested, grinning widely with his messy face.

“noooo!” armani refused her beads clacking as she shakes her head. nicholas pouted,

“why not, butterfly?”

“because you’re a mess, daddy! give mommy one.” she points in your direction to which you wave your hands in refusal, “mm-mm, ‘mani! i don’t want that either. take one for the team.” you say with a chuckle, taking a sip from your mug.

“okay, but if daddy kisses me, i want another present.”

“what would that be, boo?” you ask, yours and nicholas’ brows raise in piqued curiosity.

“hmm—y’know i love you and daddy so much?”

“of course and we love you so much, butterfly.” nicholas affirmed and you nod in agreement by placing a kiss on her forehead.

“i want a baby!” the five year old announces with a beaming voice. you choke on your drink a bit at hearing the words come out, nicholas calmly chimes in to clarify.

“you mean like a baby doll or a real baby?”

armani sighs and palms her face, eager to get her point across. “a real baby, daddy! i just want someone to play with—so, if i give you a kiss, there’ll be a baby next year?” nicholas gave you a glance as you both pondered on the thought. it wouldn’t be so bad. you felt you got some footing on this parenting thing. your careers are established and you’re financially stable. there’s no denial that your baby had grown so fast. it felt like yesterday that she was barely crawling on her first christmas and now, she’s making and giving away her own gifts. you see it from her side as well, having siblings could be such a blessing when the foundation of the relationship is real love, so you give in.

“okay, armani, you got it, but you gotta be patient—really patient.”

“yes!” the girl cheered, she raised her arms before patting her face towards her dad, “hurry, daddy, hurry!” nicholas didn’t waste time to lift her in his arms to plant a sweet kiss to her face which was now covered in the whip cream. she squealed at the sensation to wipe away the mess.

once the kitchen was clean and you made some phone calls of holiday greetings to some family members, you all lay back on the sofa to have a christmas movie marathon starting with none other than home alone. you all enjoy in the classic slapstick hijinks of kevin mcallister. nicholas being the movie geek he is, spoke softly to put in some commentary regarding the film.

“you guys know that black and white crime movie he was watching isn’t real, right?”

“really? how you do know?” armani curiously asked.

“i, uh—mm, i looked it up because i wanted to watch it, aha!” he cleared his throat and bashfully chuckled, wrapping his large arm around you as armani snuggled closer into his chest. by the time the movie ended, your daughter was already snoring away. it was only half past noon and she was tuckered out from all of the holiday excitement. now, with armani peacefully napping in her room, the house was filled with a serene silence. you and nicholas settled in your own bedroom. he leaned back against the headboard pulling you into his side, his warmth radiating against you as the comforter concealed your bodies. there was a pause of silence before nicholas broke it.

“babe, did you mean that earlier?” he asked softly, glancing down at you. “about having another baby?”

“well…” you trail off, cutting a piqued glare towards your husband. “that depends on what you think about it.”

nicholas chuckled, his brown eyes sparkling with mischief. “well, i guess we have to think about it, don’t we? it’s a big decision.” he paused, a playful grin spreading across his face. “but i can’t deny that the idea of another little one running around would be kind of—sweet.”

you bit your lip with a smile, feeling your face heat up and your heart flutter at the thought. “i think armani would be such a great big sister. she’s already so nurturing as it is. plus, she’s playful, imaginative, and dramatic—thanks to her dad.” you smirk at his feigned offense,

“i beg your pardon. i think she takes that dramatic part after you.”

“says the literal actor.” you quickly retort. he raises his right hand in surrender,

“got me there.”

you both dissolve into laughter for it to die down before resuming the conversation. nicholas expression turned more serious for a moment, gently taking your left hand within his and peering into your eyes. “but it’s not just about armani, y’know, it’s about us too. are we ready for that?” you took a moment, reflecting once more on the joy that armani brought into your lives despite the circumstances. “baby, i think we could handle it. we have our jobs and our home. plus, we make a pretty good team, you know?” you pause, another thought popping into your mind that could further convince him,

“besides, this could be a chance for you to not be the only guy in the house. you’re a boss at being a girl dad no doubt, but deep down you’d want a little nick causing havoc with you.” with a chuckle, his gaze softened, and he leaned in closer to your ear, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “you had me convinced at havoc.” he pressed a lingering kiss to your jaw before peppering more along the line and descending to your neck. he then held onto you to lay you down against the mattress, straddling your body.

“you think we should start trying now?” his smirking lips ghosted over yours for a second before closing the gap between you in a slow, sensual kiss. after indulging in each other for a moment, he pulls back to place his forehead on yours with a gaze mixed of both romance and lust.

“there’s still one gift we haven’t exchanged yet.” he teased, returning his lips to yours as his hands slowly go under your pajama shirt. you hum softly encouraging him as you felt the temperature of your body rise with every touch to your skin. just as he was about to lift it up, there was a knock at your bedroom door,

“mommy, daddy! can you help me? i wanna play on my ipad.” you and nicholas quickly separate with a sigh and chuckle as you were both back to reality. nicholas rolls himself from on top of you and pulls the covers away to stand and stretch,

“i’m coming, butterfly! gimme a minute, okay?” he calls out before turning to you,

“duty calls. i’ll handle this now then i’ll handle you later?” he asked shooting you a wink.

you giggle with a nod, he was the same flirt that you met five years ago.

“go on. do your thing! i’ll be waiting with your gift right here.” you slyly respond laying across the bed with your chin resting in your palm.

“oh, you better.” he said opening the door to greet your daughter to attend to her needs. as you peer out of the window at the blizzard outside, you realize that this christmas, you couldn’t ask for anything better than what you have right now.

[forestshadow-wolf]

Ghost gets hurt in an explosion that soap set off because it was either that or dying. Soap feels responsible. So when Ghost wakes in the hospital and immediately thinks he's dreaming, and that soap had died in real life, soap lies. Tells him that, "yeah, Si, you're dreaming. Close your eyes, you'll be awake next time you open them." In his most casual voice. Casual despite the panic and guilt and shame in his chest. Despite the fact that Ghost could barely remember him. And despite the fact that just before that mission they'd gotten in a huge fight over something he couldn't remember anymore. And he tells the team that he settled Ghost, but he needs to leave to get his head on straight. And he tells them not to mention him or what he's done. At least not until he's back.

And when Ghost opens his eyes again it's just Price snd Gaz. And they don't say anything. And Ghost goes crazy and rampaging thinking that he got Soap killed.

And so they call soap into base again to calm Ghost.

And when he gets there Ghost can't quite comprehend it, "wh- how... you're dead." But the sedatives are finally taking hold and he goes down.

And when Ghost wakes again soap has to pry himself out of his grip. And say to hom "you don't want me." Because he got him hurt. And this time he's alive. This time he's going to make a full recovery. But next time it will be paralysis or a lost arm or a snapped leg. Next time could be death. So Soap has to leave. Because it's happening again. And somehow his cursed MacTavish luck is back to haunt him after too many good years. And he won't risk Simon like that. And before Ghost can even respond, he's gone again.

[mermervi]

a christmas secret

✎ If you knew your boyfriend turned out to be such an asshole, you wouldn't even look at him in the first place. You'd have called off the engagement, of course, but you chose to stay for the sake of someone who sweetened your days and that someone is none other than your fiancé's brother. Leon. So how challenging can a family Christmas gathering be?

cw: MDNI, shameless smut, p in v, cheatingz!, unprotected segs goes hard ngl, bre3ding mayhaps, family drama aka kennedy family is the new kardashians, not proofread, sorry, praise kink, stomach bulge!, finger!ng, fem! reader, MDNI

find this work on ao3!

For Leon, this Christmas is overly festive, too much of an extravaganza. He has always hated family gatherings and has always been the type of boy who would retreat to his room after grabbing his share of the dishes his mother cooked for the house guests. No girls to bring home for his parents, no serious talks with them at all, and the concept of marriage has always been a total can of worms. For him there was Ada and the many nights he shared with her, nights of “oh, yeah. We fuck each other, and we don’t put a name to it.” This was more than enough for him but nothing to last forever.  

Until one day the tide completely turned the night he happened to meet you. He was quite surprised when he heard that his little brother, the one he thought was nothing but a good-for-nothing, had finally met “the one” a year ago. Quite frankly, all Leon could think of was a body mass with every known sexual disease in the world collectively stored in his nuts and sperm. Yes, he was clearly not very fond of his brother.  

He did, though, at the request of his father and mother, show up at last year’s get-to-know-the-new-girl-in-law dinner.  

And that was the night he saw you for the first time. The truth of the matter is you were far out of his brother’s league, along with the girls from all over the States, but Leon could only see an incapable man next to a pretty girl like you. Still, for the sake of pretending to be the good brother, he did the laughing and ate the food cooked that night. He pulled off a good Kennedy act, the best version of Kennedy his father could muster. Whatever his brother was, Leon was the opposite, and his father couldn’t have asked for anything more. He didn’t care what exactly was going on between his sons. The Dad of the Year, absolutely.  

Nobody could blame the old Kennedy. Leon was alright. Whatever. The other boy, however, is the equivalent of a child who was supposed to be jettisoned from the beginning and who, despite the condoms and the pills, was still accidentally conceived one night. He’s the headache itself. The only problem is that he has been so fucking blind to see this kind of unpleasantness and discomfort he has created for years. The guy lives in his own fantasy world.  

How he found someone like you is a veiled story behind the scenes.  

Leon really wanted to ask, quite a few times, but something stopped him, and the subject remained like a chest of unspoken family secrets. It went as far as getting your engagement with his brother.  

It was only a summer night when Leon found you crying alone by the pool outside the house that the tables were turned. The mother of your tears: his moronic brother. But why? Because he will never understand you. Thinking that you might actually find true love now seemed like a rookie mistake to you. So you cried. For Leon, it was just sad. Who knows how many times he had to comfort and sometimes even hug his brother’s female friends?  

Oh, and of course there was also the part of providing the most important detail that his brother was missing. Fucking those pretty girls. Hugs and heart-to-heart talks always led to the same thing. You, like the other girls, had found yourself in the same trap—the trap you had willingly walked yourself into—on top of him on a night of poolside fucking in a lounge chair. Doesn’t that make Leon an asshole? Perhaps, but at least Leon’s the kind of guy who has a sense of reverence for the women he sleeps with, whereas his brother... Well, Leon can’t find the right words in English for that guy.  

No beating around the bush, Leon wants the same thing tonight. The sex. Your sex. Why would he come to this stupid Christmas dinner anyway? For you, that’s the answer. Couple that with the fact that his job has kept him away from you for a couple of weeks—from the scattered things in life he likes to do—and you’ve got a man who���s been feeling peckish for many weeks.  

“Come on, big boy. Jus’ have a bite to eat.”  

Leon’s brother’s soused tones interrupt the eye contact between you and Leon, the one that has been covertly lingering on and off. He’s a piece of shit. It’s scarcely seven, and already he’s drunk as a doornail.  

Like a demented child, he leans over the table and brings his fork to Leon’s mouth, making artificial train noises in midair.  

“Now, now, my boy. Show me your mouth. Honk hooooooonk! Toot toot!”  

Your beloved fiancé forces the fork into Leon’s lips, which are pressed together to smooth matters over despite the sour expression on Leon’s face, as if he had just bitten into a lemon, and he doesn’t do much to hide it.  

At this point in your life, what could be more embarrassing than witnessing your fiancé doing this in front of all his relatives? And that’s coming from you—someone who usually doesn’t give a shit about relatives.  

Mercifully, Leon’s father saves the day when he raises a full glass of wine to draw the attention of the guests at the table to him.  

“Here’s to my beautiful family and to many happy years with them. With you guys. I love you all.”  

A sweet harmonization prevails around the table courtesy of this man. At least the eyes are where they should be, on the table, on the food, on whatever the good things are. What of your eyes? They are hunting for certain shades of blue, and when they locate them, the same kind of serene smile sits on his lips as on yours.  

Why is it that you feel so safe around him, but so bare around his brother and his kin? He’s their blood, but he acts just the way you always need him to be.  

Blending into your vista and turning the picture upside down, a red face suddenly intervenes between you and Leon. As it always does.  

“Heyyy.” He orates garishly and kisses your cheek.  

That’s not serious. Why must he butt his nose into absolutely everything? Sometimes you just want to throw away the ring and give a basket, then spit in his face and run like hell.  

Apart from the striking blue gaze, far away from Leon’s gaze, your fiancé’s attention is focused on you. More precisely, down your cleavage, or even exactly at the low-cut level.  

“What?”  

“What what what?” He’s parroting you, yammering.  

“Stop drinking like a horse and quit clowning around.”  

“Why? Tits the size of my head—”  

“Why don’t you shut your mouth? There are kids around. Screw you.” You look askance at him, but all to no avail. Yes, everything happens out of the prying eyes of the relatives—except for one person (Leon!), you and your fiancé are bickering at the mouths of each other. An outsider would even make a compliment about your idealistic relationship, saying something like—what a romantic lovebird these two are."

“Ha. Nice.” Your lover almost burps with a bitter taste on his tongue. In your face. “Huh. How about making them new cousins?” And as if his sobriety wasn’t already bad enough, he, of course, dares to dare to think about anything that pertains to his dick. What an idiot. Like he can even fuck you. This guy has been dead for some time. The alcohol does that shit, he says, but he’s always been all thumbs, dick down.  

“Get lost. Seriously. I’m on my period, anyway.” You lie, and within a split second your fiancé responds with a horrified scowl that is woven across his face like a tapestry. Of course you’re engaged to a misogynist and a guy who’s allergic to the subject of menstruation.  

“Yuck. No way. ‘m going to go now.”  

“What? Where to?”  

He stands up heedlessly, scrambling up the chair with the back of his shoe as you pelt him with a barrage of follow-up questions.  

“Hey, guys! I’m outta here.”  

He waves to everyone like a famous singer at a concert hailing his fans from the stage.  

This fucking guy...  

The assembled folks watch in silence for a spell as your fiancé staggers along in a drunken swagger. Even Leon watches him, and he knew from the moment he received the invitation that he was going to be subjected to such a moonstruck stunt. More or less, he could have guessed that the main character would be his stupid, dickhead of a brother.  

You try to recover from this situation with a short ha! of laughter without even letting the situation escalate into a real problem. “He’s too busy. Even on New Year’s Eve. Got... a call... from work. Yeah. He did—God. What a man. He makes me so proud.”  

What a shock.

Leon’s holding his laughter like it’s a sneeze at your eye-watering performance. Turns out everyone in this house who has or is about to have the last name Kennedy is always obliged to deal with the chaos created by that mindless pain in the ass. Tonight was no different from any other disaster, and Leon knows you’re a real Kennedy now.

“Yes, indeed. He’s just recently qualified. The boy is quite overwhelmed with business.” Mrs. Kennedy, sitting next to Leon and across from her husband, is quick to gloss over her young son’s asinine mistakes. It’s hard not to admire her as she does so. It’s her aura that speaks, not her, and it’s at that particular minute that you decide that some of Leon’s facial features descend from her. Like mother, like son.  

The table stills after another parental rescue drill. Not a bad kind of night, you might say. The conversation circulates. You make the acquaintance of people who aren’t so black and white. Turns out the Kennedy bloodline isn’t all bad, sort of. American as apple pie, Italian as... pizza?  

All this talking, socializing, and blah blah blah goes right through your social battery. That’s enough people and new faces. It wouldn’t hurt to venture out into the garden and catch some air. Maybe light a cigarette. You never know.  

Excusing yourself from the throngs of people, you finally step out of the back door of the kitchen through the patio door leading to the backyard.

The bracing air from yesterday’s foot-deep snow is wafting sweetly across your face. The ground beneath your feet is still dewy, and the caked snow sticks to your soles. Too much on your mind to give a crap. That stupid boyfriend of yours is the culprit of it all. Easy.

Raising the joint in your hand, you roll a cigarette and cradle it between your lips. You dig in your pocket for the lighter you think is in your dress pocket, but no luck so far.

Within a scant few seconds, the gentle gusts of breeze blow into waves of bone-chilling cold and spray your skin under the thin fabric of your dress. Silly you are. It’s a recipe for disaster to be going out in such weather without even putting on a single jacket.

You’re kicking yourself from the inside.  

Luckily, the sliding door behind you flings to the side. It’s none other than your soon-to-be brother-in-law. Squinting at you in the twilight, as if he’s judging you. Yes, yes, yes, yes. What a way to be out in the cold, damn it. He most likely will lecture you. You know the drill.

“Is this the way to go out in this cold, sweetheart?”  

Called it!  

You just shrug your shoulders, and Leon lines up next to you. He looks at the cigarette between your lips with a bogus hint of titter. “You know these things will kill you.”

What a wiseass.

As you flick your lighter, he takes off his brown jacket, which you think is new and pretty. He looks good with it.

Unexpectedly, the gesture is a small token from his heart. He slides the jacket over your shoulders, and you notice the flashes of sparkles that fill his eyes. Tonight, especially after yesterday’s bellowing of flaky snow, there is a distinctive gale in his eyes under the arch of the constellations and the blue-gray moon—like two small globes of blue-sky moon.  

“You must really like staring at me.”  

This man is a dab hand at deflecting attention with a comment that will definitely ruin the whole moment. It must be a family thing, you decide.  

“No, I’m surprised. Look at you looking like such a show-off. You’ll catch cold.” Your voice is laughable and blurred from the cigarette between your lips.  

“Don’t even think about it.”  

Just as you’re about to take the jacket off you and return it to his arms, Leon holds you by the arm and then intercepts you. Doesn’t take you seconds to register that you have been missing his touch all along in your memory. It’s so distant yet so fresh.  

The stillness of the night falls between you, leaving a familiar glow inside your bones—white and aurelian. It’s all the same to Leon. Moments like these are potentially precarious, and it’s usually Leon who does something to diffuse the situation in those peak seconds of emotional overload. Practical wit.  

He takes the lighter from the palm of your hand and with a few flicks, ignites the cigarette’s stub. His free hand instinctively cups around the bluish, wavering flame. He watches and waits until you take a drag — notwithstanding the sharp, burning wallop searing through his palm. Worth it, he figures. The agony in his hand is only temporary, a demising singe. Yet the fire inside you? That’s something else, something you both share. You’re burning in your lungs. He’s burning in his hand. Unquestionably, with an esoteric surrender. 

“Thanks.” You exhale away from him. In his case, Leon fiddles idly with the same lighter. He looks contemplative.  

Must be an acquired connotation to that expression on his face. Sometimes you really wonder what on earth is going on in his head. You would have sacrificed your fiancé to cut open Leon’s head and find out what’s going on inside his head during such hush-hush intervals, really. It wouldn’t be half bad. The world would be rid of a piece of shit, and eventually, you would have peeled back the layers and understood who Leon Kennedy really was.  

You raise your brow at him and grill him while he snatches the fag he robbed from your lips. He takes a long draw. By heart he knows the taste of your lips, all paper-wrapped and kissed.  

“Whatcha got there? Cherry lip gloss?”  

“Yup.” You hum in approbation, and now you watch the heady vapors drifting from his lips, frost-kissed red as fresh grains in a pomegranate against the biting cold.  

What is clear is that you both crave to be with each other. Why, Anna wants Vronsky like Vronsky wants Anna, like Vronsky has that mad, demeritorious longing for Anna. And for Leon, you’re what they might label that weird thing inside him.

“Come with me to the greenhouse. Now.”  

“What? N-now? The surge in your speech ripples, either from the cold or sheer astonishment.

With the last puff, Leon throws the cigarette on the snow-carpeted ground and treads on the glowing ash with the sole of his shoe. The next thing you know—  

He grabs you by the wrist and drags you behind him to the glass vestibule of his mother’s one and only conservatory. All this silence, all these initiatives are the signs that he has a master plot in his head, and you’re just getting the hang of it.

“This is insane. House is teeming with people. We... we should wait for them to sleep.”  

Your words make no sense, at least for Leon, and yes, they are sensible, but Leon’s a recalcitrant one. He’s straight in his head.  

“Oh, that’s it?” He lets you in and zooms out the door behind you. Naturally, he first snoops around to see if the place is empty or not. He doesn’t have to search every corner. The survival instinct that comes with his profession assures him that the place is pretty vacant from the moment he steps foot inside.

Your tentative steps are no different than trekking through a minefield. You trust him, but getting nabbed is always a contingency.

“Yeah. Fat chance, sweetheart. It’s now or never.” Leon whispers a brickbat, mimicking the way you croon your words when you feel imperiled. The two of you cross a lane, and Leon turns to you. Curling his fingers around the delineation of your waist, he lifts you onto a sturdy mahogany tabletop that his mother usually decorates with lovely flowers. Show off.  

“What if someone—”  

He heckles you obliquely with his index finger, pressing it just slightly to your lips.  

“I’ll be completely honest when I say this to you. Everybody knows that we’re fucking.”  

“They do?”  

Leon offers one affirmative shake of the head. “My dad and ... my mom... well, she knows everything.”  

“Christ.”  

How much more scandalous information can Leon reveal about his family, you ponder, as your darling brother-in-law rucks the hem of your dress up and you, with what must be muscle memory, spread your legs apart to give him more room to do his thing.

“I knew it.”  

He makes a subtle jab at the sheer wetness staining the frilly seam of your panties. Inoffensive, alright. Call a spade a spade; you’ve been sitting wet from the very beginning of the evening—or rather, from the second you glanced in Leon’s direction. Kind of like a stupid baby who peed her pants.  

“You’re wet, missy.”  

Don’t mind your panties skimming down to your ankles, just around your heels.  

His touch, the one you have been yearning for, sinks into you in two fingers, scissoring your pussy with his middle and ring finger, and your heart nearly pops out of your throat. He could have taken out his phone and taken a picture of a memory he didn’t want to forget, a cover photo that could have been the most memorable snapshot of your face—the most beautifully captured moment of the year.

“So tight,” his whisper sears your chest, “he could never give you what you want, and he will never give you what you want. Gotta be thankful that you have me.” 

Well, you’ve never been a thankful person, but maybe now is the time for a character transformation. Maybe you really should thank your brother-in-law for his very existence this year as he fucks his fingers into your velvety folds.  

“Hmmm? What you say? Don’t you fuck him just to keep yourself for me?”  

“Maybe.” Your breath touches his cheek, like a summery kiss, as he thumbs the spot that makes you squeeze down on his digits.  

“Not the answer I expected, though not that I care. I have more important things to do.”  

He’s talking about important things like you, to be sure, or your lovely cunt where the slick is bleeding on his fingers.  

When he’s sure he can fit himself in, he samples his glistening fingers himself, in his own mouth. A familiar taste, yes, but it leaves a trace of saccharin on his tongue that he has been denied for quite a long time. When it’s forbidden, it’s the lushest.  

“Maybe I’ll eat you tomorrow morning after breakfast.”  

How funny. No offense, but he sucks at these quip games.  

Neither he nor you have the patience to wait any longer in the rush of this. Whatever this is. Quick as it is, Leon wraps your legs around his hips, which he grasps by your calves.  

You do the rest and release him with your hand, loosening the belt around his waist and running your hand down to the zipper of his pants. Either it’s something in your imagination, or tonight he seems bigger to your eyes than you can ever remember him being. That, and the scars, which you can now observe so vividly for the first time. They’re emblazoned on his pale hide and mar him in angry pinks and ultraviolets. As much as you want to touch them, to plant those healing kisses, it’s Leon who stops you.  

“We don’t have time.”  

You already know that. In his defense, Leon and you have made one thing clear from the beginning: no feelings attached!  

So maybe in another universe you had the right Kennedy, and you were the one who lay with him in the same bed. You had a life beside him, with a cat and a dog, plus a roof over your head. Tragically, in this universe you were the cheating slut who cuckolded your fiancé, and he’s the asshole who banged his brother’s fiancé.  

“We don’t have time,” says the smartass, as he strokes the reddish tip of his cock back and forth over your wet entrance and repeats it like a looped movie script. It’s enough to piss you off, but your impatience is through the roof.  

“Please. Please, Leon.”  

The first thing he’s anticipating is the begging stage. But he wants more than that. And you know it.  

“Expecting better words from that witty mouth.”  

You bite your lower lip, and no, that’s not what he’s expecting nor what he aspires to.  

Leon pulls back a little and lays hold of his cock by the shaft. It’s leaking from the tip, and he smears the pre-cum by gliding the fat head of his dick into your slit. Smart saving, no wasted material.  

“See?” He massages the fluids with his ring finger, rubbing everything inside. “How your little pussy loves me. Your body wants me, sweetheart.” 

He then spits on his palm, garbing the dew over his cock, and proves his practical acumen even if he comes up with a solution that is not particularly hygienic.

“Now you tell me. Want me to fuck a little Kennedy in this pretty pussy?”

You should be ashamed of yourself. That you’re dying for this. Synonyms for these images of humiliation, however, don’t even cross your mind during those abandoned seconds.

You don’t know how many times you have shaken your head at him, positively, but it’s so worth it to see that boyish grin on his face. 

“I want it, Leon. Nothing but you.” You are no longer begging but spewing the truth as almost a last resort.  

Leon feels a thrill of elation at the way you squeeze him as he slides into you, tighter than sin. Your lips are sucking in a delicate puff of breath, and he’s not even inside you.  

The table beneath you is virtually slipping out of your palms, but fortunately you have him. He always holds you and always gives you whatever you want. He pulls on your hips, and moonlit tears well up in your eyes, stinging your lashes.  

“Damn, gorgeous. Can barely fucking fit.” The rasp of his lilt in his voice, the rush of his fingers on your hips. It’s all turning your head topsy-turvy. Slow, perhaps lazy thrusts push inside you, and your fluttering walls memorize the shape and outline of a cock that fucks you up inside and out. He leans back and groans as his dick melts into you—inch by inch, deeper and deeper, and the parting of his lips breaks into a grin as you near your limit with a newly forming bulge inside your stomach.

Only then do you auscultate the scratchy urge seething inside him.

“Look at this. Too big for ya? God—missed this pretty pussy so bad.” 

More than you have missed him?

Or does he even realize how wretchedly you tighten around his cock when you hear the subtle eulogy out of his mouth?

This is Leon you’re talking about. Of coure, he feels you. The guy worships you.  

He knows and reads your body, your soul. Goes further when you gently repel back to meet his hips, to less when he realizes that your hand is curling into a fist on his abdomen, and tenses up when he lashes your cervix with a very hard stab.

Everything is for you: every error he has made and will ever repeat and every right he will ever do.  

So is the way his lips quest for yours. The kiss rips out everything in your brain that belongs to survival instincts—rough and soft in equal measure—utterly debauched. His demanding hands play with your right tit poking out of your dress as if it were his own personal meat and vein toy. Hands reach up from his biceps down to his forearms, helpless, and you cling tightly to his shoulders because his body is the only thing that is holding you on the end of the table right now. He’s the only thing keeping you here, against the freezing degrees outside, against the happy house imaginary, against the people in it.  

Your mutinous whimpers choke in your own throat in an audible volume, and you recoil from his lips as if you are screaming in a nightmare but happen to have lost your voice. Eyes glazed, and both your lips are alizarin to the point of bleeding.  

“Look what I fucking do to you, greedy girl.” He reaches down your neck. Doesn’t choke you, though.

He’s the one who made you this way. Tonight he’s just more cynical than you’ve ever known him to be. Dirty talk will definitely rattle around in your brain in the most unlikely of places—maybe during a briefing, or maybe when you’re sitting with your beloved husband-to-be, sipping coffee or hot chocolate together.  

“I can’t. Leon. I think I—” The little words you’re trying to say just won’t come out of your mouth. You push so hard, but there’s simply no way through. Those mental words linger in your mind like clouds of rumination, leaving you mouth agape.  

“Yeah, me too.” He whispers quite musings as his thumb finds the pearl of your clit.

That’s exactly where the hell breaks loose. You no longer possess the vigor to spring up on the table, nor does he have the stamina to be sucked into the molten lava in which he’s melting and kindling.  

Drunken mistakes or impulses often drive people to make a choice they will regret. Your ineptitude is a down payment. Right there and then, you blanket his still throbbing cock, and he’s blinking his eyelashes together. All that ponderous, stinging thrusting, now numb and sporadic.  

“I’ll give you, give you—my baby.”  

Famous last words.

Still, he’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. Really, the very essence of male beauty must have been invented for him, or you’re just too fucked up here.

To him, you’re so beautiful, and you take his cock so nicely. Absolutely worth its weight in gold.

With his face sunk into your neck, he moans, making a note of total bliss as he bottoms out, filling you as intensely as possible. Leon betrays a breath of air and closes his eyes for a second as your lovely pussy sucks in every lingering drop.

Your pulse is as senile as an oldie; you’re flushed and panting, gripping the edge of the table beneath you.

The rank ham-fistedness of your conduct dawns on both of you as you both only just regain your composure.

“Merry Christmas, beautiful.” So effortlessly, as if what happened between you hadn’t even had a spare moment to touch you—both emotionally and physically—as if he isn’t still inside you, he gives you his New Year’s wishing.  

“Merry Christmas, Leon.” Back at him, you sigh exasperatedly. No harm done. Can’t help wishing that the new year will be spent right next to him.

“Are you ready to get up, or should I carry you?”  

“Have I told you how hilarious you are?”  

“Oh, honey. The girls love it. So do you.”  

He crowns his comedy rehearsal, which is guaranteed to get a standing ovation, with a conical hat that he finds on the table at a random and very absurd moment and plonks it on your head. You nearly flinch.  

“There you go. Now you fit the theme.” 

[dalliancekay]

Aziraphale loves Crowley but...

(A clickbait title? Me? Possibly)

There's this thought rattling in my brain for a good while and I have to try to get it out.

So most of the fandom seems to operate under the impression that Crowley loves Aziraphale unreservedly (since Eden) and that he is waiting for the angel to catch up with him.

This is evident across metas here, and many posts and comments elsewhere. Even fics (if I'm permitted to say that) keep dancing around the idea that Crowley never knows where he stands. It's not that obvious how Aziraphale feels about Crowley (especially to Crowley). Because Aziraphale is forever denying their connection (as if he didn’t have good enough reason) and/or also that Crowley, who is always open about his feelings, is waiting for Aziraphale to finally admit at some point (sooner than later please) how he feels so they can be together (...I'm not going there today...).

But I did have discussions with people from other countries and cultures. Notably @sayuri-of-the-valley who told me that most people in their country would assume Aziraphale is the smitten one and it's not so obvious how Crowley feels (he might be just toying with the angel?).

So I've been thinking about how Aziraphale feels from what we see.

In Before the Beginning, which is their first encounter, Aziraphale is immediately taken by the sweet, pretty, enthusiastic angel who seems completely oblivious to Aziraphale's hopes to be noticed.

We do not know if they meet again as angels or how long after their meeting the Great War happens. I would think this is not their only encounter. But it could be. I think they became friends and at some later point Angel!Crowley asked Aziraphale to join in the rebellion (or at least come with him to hang out with the guys and find out what it's about). But forever cautious Aziraphale warned him that it's not a good idea and refused and ... Crowley Fell.

Next time they see each other is in Eden.

They seem to recognise each other and Crawley is clearly pretty happy to see Aziraphale who does not introduce himself but Aziraphale gently prompts the demon to introduce himself.

Aziraphale seems a little unsure how they stand at first ... ...and I think it's because of what has transpired before the Fall (is Aziraphale forgiven?). But as Crawley gently teases him about the recently passed events, Aziraphale is assured and trusts Crawley as if nothing much changed between them and he readily admits he's given away his sword to the demon. (The truth of which he does not disclose to God Herself.)

Their relationship progresses as far as it can in the circumstances over the next centuries and millennia, they both care and look after each other. Until the next big heart-breaking 'break-up' happens. An impossible ask.

You can see how this request basically pierces Aziraphale's heart. He would prefer they don't see each other again than give in to such extraordinarily dangerous request. Out of the question! This would mean the end of existence for Crowley. He would not just be discorporated, not 'just' taken away. He'd be gone.

If they truly don't see each other for almost 80 years, this must have hurt so so deeply.

Next they see each other then, it's 1941. I know some people HC that Crowley slept until then but I think it's very unlikely. He seems to know what is happening with WWII, and besides, he has his car, which he says he has from new and you wouldn't buy a 1926 Bentley new in 1940.

So back to the husbands. Aziraphale might very well think he will never be forgiven for his resolute refusal of handing Crowley the one thing that can so easily simply wipe him from existence.

When Crowley shows up in the church, Aziraphale yet again is not sure where he stands. Is he forgiven? What is Crowley coming to do? (No, I don't think Aziraphale thought Crowley was coming with revenge or anything similar, I assume it's as he says, as Aziraphale assumes he's there because of his job, to do something for Hell). But Crowley assures him that is not the case and they fall into their usual bickering.

And all is well. Aziraphale breathes out and THEN Crowley remembers to save his books.

And Aziraphale knows he's forgiven.

When 1967 comes around and he hears about Crowley's frankly insane decision to get some humans to source holy water for him, the angel breaks his own heart and hands Crowley a double walled, securely closed vessel with the dangerous substance just because it's the safer option.

The next break up is...

After that they 'see' each other when Aziraphale's (soul? essence?) discorporated self finds Crowley drinking in the pub.

Crowley tells Aziraphale he lost his best friend... What is Aziraphale thinking?

Yet again, I suppose he's unsure where he stands. He did after all made a decision to do something Crowley disagreed with. And Crowley left. Twice. Aziraphale didn't want to run. He was going to try and find a way to save the Earth even if it meant to try and talk to God and whatever consequences would follow from that.

But Crowley is so gentle with him as he tells him his home burned down. He even has the one book Aziraphale really needed, somehow saved. So Aziraphale asks for help. They can do this.

And they do.

So we see Aziraphale through aeons, looking up to Crowley, admiring his wit, integrity, being exasperated with him, trying to keep him safe - from unreasonable requests just as much as from rash decisions and words that can have severe consequences. Aziraphale is an angel who is unlike any other. He finds himself, long before the rebellion of half the Host is a thing, in knowledge that some things should not be mentioned or suggested or criticised and he tries to stop this lovely angel he just met from getting into trouble.

Which he keeps doing for millions of years...

However. It doesn't always work. The angel Falls. He is hurt and abandoned by the God who made him and deemed unforgivable. He is threatened and punished when he just wants to be himself and Aziraphale sees all of this and loves him and tries to keep him safe and he is not always succeeding, having to make more and more difficult decisions.

And Aziraphale doubts himself. Is he good enough. Is something wrong with him. We see how anxious he gets all the time. What is he doing wrong. They were never allowed to speak to each other about how they feel. For the longest time they didn’t even know how to name their feelings I’m sure. They didn’t make any promises.

They both hope, yes but where I see people HC that Crowley doubts an angel would unconditionally love a demon (maybe he does, but I don’t really see it - I think Crowley knows all that talk of fiends is just a cover), I also see that Aziraphale thinks he’s not good enough. That he can’t give enough and that it’s a problem (it is to some fans but if he’s ever holding back - ‘you go too fast for me Crowley’, it’s only ever to keep the demon safe).

But yes, I think Crowley thinks the chasm that can’t be overcome between them is the angel/demon one. Because She made him unforgivable. And Aziraphale thinks that their world would never allow them to be together (and he’s right) and he simply can’t agree to trying when it’s doomed to failure. If they run, how long would they have together? What kind of freedom would they have as hunted outcasts? So he keeps making these difficult decisions. And feeling so guilty for them.

The hardest of which we meet at the end of Season Two.

Aziraphale meets the Second in Command of the ruler of their world who 'invites' him to run Heaven. After Aziraphale refuses several times, we see him enter his home and tell Crowley that he got an offer and ask Crowley to come with him.

And Crowley. Says no.

And all the subsequent metas focus on how Crowley was betrayed by Aziraphale's 'decision', how Aziraphale does not deserve to be loved or wanted or be forgiven by the demon.

And how does Aziraphale feel?

Does Aziraphale still think he can be forgiven?

[steddieas-shegoes]

what does a barbie mean?

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'hanukkah'

all of my holiday drabbles will be from the bear hugs universe. many of them could probably be read standalone, but will make the most sense and be enjoyed best if you read that first!

rated g | 633 words | no cw | tags: established relationship, fluff

🕎🕎🕎🕎🕎🕎🕎🕎🕎🕎🕎🕎🕎

When Steve picks Rory up from her friend’s birthday party, she’s surprisingly quiet. Usually after parties, she’s bouncing off the walls, blaming the cake and ice cream and soda and goodie bags full of candy.

By the time they get home, Steve’s getting concerned at her silence.

“Hey green bean, you okay?” He asks as they park in the garage. Eddie’s at work for another hour, so he has to do this alone.

He got used to not having to do this stuff alone anymore.

“Mhm,” Rory answers as she unbuckles her seatbelt. It’s not convincing and Steve turns to tell her that. She’s not looking at him, though.

“Do you wanna talk about something? Did anything happen at the party?” Steve asks. He shouldn’t push, but he’s worried that someone was mean to her. Rory can handle herself, but she’s still human, and she’s still a kid, and words can hurt.

“Nothing happened,” she says, but Steve’s not convinced.

“You can tell me anything.”

Rory finally looks up at him. “How come Santa doesn’t bring Sarah and Rebecca presents? They’re good all year.”

Oh. Well, this is definitely better than he expected, and way easier to explain or fix. No one bullied her, she’s just confused.

“You know how Sarah and Rebecca celebrate Hanukkah instead of Christmas?” Rory nods. “Well, for Hanukkah, they don’t need Santa to bring them presents because the family gets all the gifts and they have special meanings to them.”

“What does a new Barbie mean?” Rory asks.

“I think it just means that Sarah is six and wants a Barbie,” Steve laughs.

“But how come they have eight Christmases in a row?”

Steve briefly explains what he knows about Hanukkah, which is not as much as he should know.

And they go inside and look up more information, because Rory is a curious child and Steve never wants her to stop learning.

And when Eddie gets home, she starts telling him all about how Sarah and Rebecca get to light a candle every night and their dad says a prayer and maybe they could light their own Christmas candle on Christmas Eve.

That weekend, they go straight to the library to get a book about the dreidel game, and make a stop at the store to find chocolate coins. Eddie tags along, a little confused about how serious Rory is taking this, but enthusiastic about playing any game that leads to eating chocolate.

The fascination with Hanukkah ends rather abruptly two days later, when she hears Rebecca talking about jelly doughnuts. Rory hates doughnuts with fillings.

Steve doesn’t bother telling her that it’s not a requirement to eat them for Hanukkah, and he gives Eddie a look to stop him before he does.

“I think we should just have Christmas like we always do,” Rory says. Steve nods like he knew this would be her decision the entire time.

Eddie leans over to whisper in his ear. “Was there a chance we were converting to Judaism?”

Steve shakes his head. “She did this with Chinese New Year two years ago and Dia de los Muertos three years ago. She’s just a curious kid.”

Eddie nods, immediately understanding and knowing that she’ll probably find another way to celebrate something next year, and many years after that. He was the same way as a kid, even remembers one year when he learned what Mardi Gras was and made Wayne buy them all dollar store beads and a King Cake at the grocery store.

“Can we keep the candles though?” Rory asks.

“Yeah, those are nice candles,” Eddie looks at Steve to confirm.

“Sure,” Steve laughs, fond as he can be over his two favorite people being so in sync, even with something like this. “We can keep the candles.”