#this is a summary for a fic I have had planned out for years but I have come to realize that I will never have the time to write it

[sugurus-thoughts]

04. cindy lou who

❆pairing — suguru geto x reader!

❆summary — I saw you laughing in one of his pictures But you'll be the one with his ring on your finger There's red and green everywhere, but l'm so blue Cindy Lou Who

❆w/c — 8,48k

❆warnings — nsfw, friends to lovers, jealousy, angst, fluff, smut, touching, MDNI

a/n — this is the longest fic I have ever written I swear. I did not think it would be this long but I certainly got in my feels as I related with the reader. Hopefully you'll stick until the end and read it, I really hope that you enjoy this long fic I honestly put so much into this so, I hope you enjoy!! 🤍🍰(I got to admit I have a soft spot for geto) I was gonna make it a part 2 but it wouldn't make sense honestly.

10 December 2024

The room buzzed with quiet chatter, the hum of conversation floating softly around the group. You sat there smiling, fainting as you always did, content to be near him— Suguru with his effortless charisma and mysterious persona seemed to always brighten the gloomiest days. He was leaning against the chair with his arms crossed, calm and collected as effort. But then his voice cut through the room, soft but yet so clear that it stopped every sound in the room.

“We're engaged” Suguru announced, his tone soft and his smile uncharacteristically tender.

The words hung in the air for a moment before anyone reacted. Shoko was the first to recover, her sharp whistle breaking the silence. “Finally!” she exclaimed, grinning with excitement.

Saturo clapped Suguru on the back, his laugh loud and infection. “About time man. Congratulations!”

Nanami nodded, offering a polite “Congratulations”, while Haibara beamed with happiness as his usual self ,excitement brimming with every word.

You didn't move. You didn't blink.

Engaged.

The word echoed in your head, bouncing around in the hollow space where your heart had been just moments before. It was a strange feeling, this heavy emptiness, like the floor had been ripped out from beneath you, yet you were somehow still sitting there, rooted to your seat.

Your hands tightened around the edge of your chair, knuckles going white as the smile on your face stayed frozen, the one you always wore when you looked at him—Suguru, who could never see what you’d been hiding all these years.

Two years.

Of course, you knew about her. Of course, you knew they’d been together. You told yourself you were happy for him, that you’d cheer him on from the sidelines like the good friend you were supposed to be. But the word engaged made it real in a way you hadn’t prepared for.

“Y/N” Shoko’s voice dragged you out of your spiral thoughts. You realized everyone was looking at you, waiting for your reaction.

You forced your lips to move, pulling them into something resembling a smile. "That’s... amazing news," you managed, your voice sounding foreign even to your own ears. "Congratulations, Suguru. I’m happy for you."

You didn’t even know if he noticed the slight tremor in your voice. You hoped he didn’t.

Suguru’s gaze met yours, and for a moment, you saw the gratitude in his eyes, the warmth of someone who thought you were genuinely celebrating with him. It hurt worse than you expected.

The conversation shifted after that, the others diving into questions about wedding plans and dates. You stayed quiet, nodding along and laughing when it felt appropriate, but your mind was elsewhere.

Years. You’d spent years loving him, dreaming of a moment that would never come. And now you realized that the tiny, flickering hope you’d buried deep inside you had finally been extinguished.

You excused yourself before the first tear could fall, muttering something about needing air. As you stepped outside, the cold evening breeze hit you like a slap, and the tears you’d been holding back spilled over, hot and bitter.

They’d said love was beautiful, but all you felt was the ache of something unspoken, the weight of what could have been, and the sting of words that could never be unsaid.

In the cold night, the snowflakes slowly fall like a weeping willow. In that moment of grief, your tears could only dry down as the cold air buries them as if they were never meant to be seen. You look out into the dark night on the balcony as mountains surround your tiny frame , Switzerland surely was a sight indeed.

To think that you once dreamed of having an all-white wedding with Suguru here, in the same place where your story together had quietly begun. The memory slipped into your mind like a cold breeze, subtle and uninvited, piercing itself together from fragments of the past. You were so young when your families first came here, deciding on a joint holiday in the picturesque Swiss Alps.

Even then, as a child, your heart skipped a beat at the sight of Suguru. His shy smile and the way his dark hair stuck out from beneath his knitted hat warmed something inside you, even in the biting cold. That trip had marked the start of what you thought might someday become more a quiet connection that belonged to the two of you.

Over the years, it became a tradition. This snowy haven turned into a cherished secret getaway, first for your families, and then, as you all grew older, for your tight-knit group of friends. The memories blurred together: late nights sitting by the roaring fireplace, voices overlapping as the six of you shared dreams for the future. You and Suguru would always sneak off to steal the last pack of marshmallows, giggling like children as you toasted them over the fire and talked about things that felt too fragile to share with anyone else dreams, hopes, and love.

In those stolen moments, you allowed yourself to dream of his love. You pictured what it might feel like to have him look at you the way he looked at the snowflakes falling softly against the window, with quiet wonder. You dared to imagine a future where you were more than just friends, a future where this place, this beautiful, snow-covered haven, could host an all-white wedding with you and Suguru at the center of it all.

But that dream had shattered the moment he met Cindy. She wasn’t just a passing crush or a fleeting romance—she was everything he had chosen, everything he had committed himself to. The warmth you once felt in his presence now left an ache, a reminder of all that could have been but never would be.

And now, as you stood here again in Switzerland, surrounded by the same breathtaking views that once held so much promise, the memories were sharper than ever. It was no longer just a place of dreams but a place where the reality of loss lingered in the air, mingling with the scent of pine and snow.

Your sudden nostalgic memories were interrupted by the creaking sound from the door behind,you slowly turned around.

Him.

He stood there, slowly his usual relaxed self approached you, softly the heels of his favorite Wyatt Jodhpur boots clicked against the wooden floor. The only sound that could be heard was the door closing behind him, not a word was spoken between the two of you and finally he reached your fragile figure.

The silence was the only thing that held the atmosphere in place.

“It's cold outside, what are you doing here?”, he took off his coat to cover your figure. As if the words just woken you upon a dream you had, you tugged it against your flaying skin. Seemingly you forgot about your earlier meltdown,and for some reason the dark night was hiding your tear stained cheeks.

“The sky looked beautiful, couldn't miss the opportunity” you exhaled softly,like a secret only to hear by the sky itself.

Not once have you dared to look into his eyes, for you knew it would only stir the motions further. You smiled softly as you reached out to catch a few snowflakes, Suguru could only smile at your playful nature.

“Are you going to the Christmas Market Wednesday?” you asked.

A sigh escaped him as his fingers rubbed his temples. “Ah yes I almost forgot, I still need to pick up Cindy from the airport”

Cindy.

The name hung in the air like a bittersweet melody, a reminder of what might have been. She was the woman who had unwittingly stolen the future you had once dared to dream of, a future that now felt as fragile as glass.

“I understand Suguru, you don't have to apologize” a response so dimly that only at night could hear you cry.

You slowly got up from your crouching position and for the first time your eyes met. For a moment it felt like the melancholy of a storm-laden sky, looking into his eyes and they reminded you of the deepest earth crust that no one could understand, but sadly you were reminded that only you were an admirer.

“I'm sorry but I need to go to my room, it's been one….-” slowly you were searching for your words, something that wouldn't give it away. “One memorable night” you smiled up at him.

His smile reached yours, as you tried to mimic his actions. Finally your words cut through.

“I'm so happy for you and Cindy, Suguru. I only wish for the best, for both of you”.

Before Suguru could utter a word you were through the door, leaving him in a timid state of unawareness. You had to leave, you had to get away from him, for he didn't know the way he held you so captive like a bird in a cage,that never saw the day in light. As you walked your way out of the restaurant, you bumped into Shoko.

Her eyes widened slightly as she took in your expression. Shoko had always been perceptive, and tonight was no different.

"Hey," she said softly, her voice carrying concern. "You okay?"

You forced a smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes. "Yeah, just tired. Long night, you know."

Shoko tilted her head, clearly not convinced but wise enough not to push further. "If you need anything, you know where to find me."

You nodded, offering a quiet, "Thanks, Shoko," before brushing past her and stepping into the cold night air.

The walk back to your room felt endless, each step weighed down by the ache in your chest. Memories of Suguru's smile, his laughter, and the way his eyes used to light up when he looked at you played in your mind like a cruel montage. And now, all of that was meant for someone else. Cindy.

Finally, you reached your door, fumbling with the key as your vision blurred with unshed tears. Once inside, you let the facade crumble. The weight of the night hit you all at once, and you collapsed onto your bed, burying your face in your hands.

The sobs came in waves, raw and unrelenting. You cried for what was, for what could have been, and for the pieces of your heart you’d so willingly given to someone who could never see you the same way.

Between the tears, you whispered into the silence, "I just wanted him to choose me... just once."

But the only answer was the stillness of the night, a cold reminder that some stories aren’t meant to end in love.

12 December 2024

The chalet buzzed with excitement as everyone prepared for their outing to the Christmas market. The morning sunlight filtered through the frosted windows, casting a golden glow over the snow-covered peaks. You busied yourself with adjusting your scarf, focusing on the small task to keep your thoughts from wandering.

“Are we all ready?” Shoko called out, her voice cutting through the chatter.

“Just waiting on Haibara, as usual,” Nanami replied, sipping from his steaming coffee mug.

You smiled faintly at the banter, grateful for the distraction. This trip was supposed to be about making memories, about enjoying the company of your closest friends. But as much as you tried to focus on that, a nagging feeling stirred in your chest an ache you’d tried to ignore since last night.

The others finally gathered, bundled up in thick coats and gloves, and you all piled into a couple of cars for the short drive down to the village. The road wound through snowy forests, the trees heavy with frost, their branches forming an archway over the path.

By the time you reached the market, the quaint streets were already alive with the hum of holiday cheer. Wooden stalls lined the cobblestone paths, their roofs dusted with snow. The air smelled of roasted chestnuts, spiced cider, and freshly baked pastries.

“Alright,” Gojo said, clapping his gloved hands together. “Let’s split up and meet back here in an hour. Everyone, try not to buy something completely useless.”

The group laughed, and you found yourself relaxing just a bit. But as you turned to follow Shoko toward one of the stalls, a familiar voice cut through the festive noise.

“Suguru!”

You froze, the smile slipping from your face. Cindy’s voice.

Turning slowly, you saw them—Suguru and Cindy walking toward the group. Suguru’s arm was slung casually over her shoulders, her hand resting on his chest as they leaned into each other. Cindy looked radiant in a cream-colored coat, her hair falling in soft waves around her face. She laughed at something Suguru said, the sound warm and light, and he smiled down at her with an ease that felt like a knife twisting in your chest.

You hadn’t expected her to arrive so early. You’d thought you had more time to prepare yourself, to steal your emotions before being forced to face them. But there she was, as if plucked from the pages of some perfect holiday romance, looking every bit the part of Suguru’s fiancée.

“Hey, sorry we’re late!” Cindy said, her voice bubbly as she greeted the group. She gave you a quick hug, her perfume lingering even after she pulled away. “Suguru thought it’d be nice to come early and surprise everyone.”

You forced a polite smile, though your heart felt heavy. “It’s nice to see you, Cindy.”

She beamed. “You too! Isn’t this place magical? Suguru was just telling me about how you all used to come here as kids. It’s so sweet.”

Her words hit harder than you expected, a reminder of the memories you shared with Suguru that now seemed to belong to someone else.

As the group began to move through the market, you found yourself trailing behind, your gaze occasionally drifting to Suguru and Cindy. They were inseparable, holding hands, sharing whispers, laughing together. At one point, Suguru adjusted Cindy’s scarf with a tenderness that made your stomach twist.

“Hey.” Shoko’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. She had fallen back to walk beside you, her sharp eyes studying your face. “You okay?”

You nodded quickly, not trusting yourself to speak.

She sighed, slipping her arm through yours as the two of you wandered toward a stall selling handmade ornaments. “You don’t have to pretend with me, you know.”

“I’m fine,” you murmured, though you didn’t believe it.

Shoko didn’t press further, but her presence was a comfort nonetheless. As the morning went on, you tried to focus on the market: the glittering lights, the cheerful music, the scent of holiday treats. But no matter how hard you tried, your gaze kept drifting back to Suguru and Cindy, and the realization settled in your chest like a weight: this trip wasn’t going to be as simple as you had hoped.

You told yourself it was time to let go, but the ache in your chest wouldn’t subside.

“Shoko, I'll be back in a bit”, before she could protest you turned into a quieter part of the market, drawn to a small stall tucked away in the corner. The vibrant hues of oil paintings caught her eye landscapes of snowy peaks, quiet villages, and vivid sunsets.

“You have a good eye,” a low, smooth voice said.

You turned, startled, and found yourself face-to-face with a man who could have stepped out of one of the paintings himself. His dark coat was tailored to perfection, his scarf loosely draped over his shoulders. His eyes, a deep, piercing shade, were focused on her with quiet curiosity.

“Oh, I was just looking,” you said, your voice soft as you turned your gaze back to the painting in front of you.

“And now you’re being modest,” he replied with a small smile, stepping beside you. “That one’s my favorite too. The way the light plays off the snow it’s tricky to capture that feeling.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “You painted these?”

“I did.” His smile grew, a touch of pride glinting in his eyes. “My name’s Shui. I’ve been exhibiting in Europe for a while now. And you?”

You hesitated. “I’m just... here with friends. We’re visiting for Christmas.”

“Well, whoever your friends are, they’re lucky to have you. You seem to notice details most people overlook,” he said, his voice gentle, as though the words were meant only for you.

The compliment caught you off guard, and you felt a blush creep into your cheeks. “I’m not sure about that.”

Shui tilted his head, studying you like a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. “Tell me, what brought you here? To this part of the market?”

You hesitated. The truth felt too heavy to admit to a stranger. Instead, you shrugged. “I guess I wanted to get away from the noise. This place feels... quieter.”

He nodded knowingly. “Quiet is good. It lets you see things more clearly. Like this.” He gestured toward the painting you had been admiring. “That piece was inspired by a winter I spent alone in the Alps. Sometimes solitude brings clarity.”

You looked at him then, really looked at him. There was something grounding about his presence, a quiet strength that made you feel like you didn’t have to pretend.

“You sound like you’ve figured things out,” you said softly.

“Not entirely,” he admitted with a small laugh. “But I’ve learned that the right people and moments come when you least expect them.”

The words hung in the air between the both of you, heavy with meaning. For the first time in days, the weight on your heart felt a little lighter.

Shui’s smile returned, warmer now. “If you’re not in a rush, I’d love to show you a gallery nearby. They’re exhibiting some of my larger works. Call it an artist’s shameless self-promotion.”

You hesitated, glancing back toward the bustling part of the market where your friends were. But the thought of facing Suguru and Cindy again made your heart sink. “I think I’d like that.”

“Good.” Shui extended his arm. “Shall we?”

You looped your arm through his, and together, you both walked into the snowy morning , leaving the noise of the market behind. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you were stepping into something new, something that didn’t revolve around Suguru.

16 December 2024

Over the next few days, Shui kept appearing inviting you over for coffee, joining you for a quiet walk in the snow. His presence helped you feel seen in a way you haven't before, igniting a sense of independence and hope.

The ice rink shimmered under the warm glow of fairy lights strung above, their golden light reflecting off the smooth, frozen surface. Laughter and the soft sounds of skates gliding over ice filled the air. You found yourself gripping Shui's arm tightly as you wobbled on the blades, trying not to fall for the third time that evening.

“Easy there,” Shui said, chuckling. His hand steadied you, resting gently on your waist. “You’re not bad at this; you just need a little confidence.”

You laughed softly, feeling the tips of your ears burn from both the cold and his touch. “You’re just being nice. I’m pretty sure I’m a danger to everyone on this rink.”

“You’re doing great,” he insisted, flashing you a warm smile that made your heart skip.

Unbeknownst to you, Suguru stood at the edge of the rink, leaning against the wooden railing. His dark eyes followed your every movement, the cigarette between his fingers forgotten as it burned down to ash. Each laugh you shared with Shui, every time you leaned into him for support, sent an unfamiliar pang through his chest.

“What’s with the long face?” Shoko appeared beside him, her wine glass still half-full, her sharp gaze cutting straight through him.

“I’m fine,” Suguru muttered, his tone clipped. He exhaled slowly, the smoky patterns of his breath mixing with the cold air.

Shoko raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. She followed his gaze, landing on you and Shui spinning awkwardly on the ice, laughing like children. “They look good together, don’t they?”

Suguru’s jaw tightened, and he looked away. “I guess.”

Shoko smirked, taking a sip of her wine. “You guess? You don’t sound too thrilled about it.”

He frowned, the irritation in his chest growing. “Why would I care? She can do whatever she wants.”

Shoko tilted her head, studying him like a puzzle. “You know, for someone who doesn’t care, you’ve been staring at her all night.”

His silence betrayed him, and Shoko’s smirk deepened. She leaned in closer, her voice lowering. “You know what your problem is, Suguru? You’ve spent so long convincing yourself you don’t feel anything for her that you actually started to believe it. But seeing her with someone else? That’s not jealousy, is it?” She paused, letting the words sink in. “It’s regret.”

Suguru’s chest tightened, her words hitting harder than he wanted to admit. He didn’t answer, couldn’t answer.

Shoko straightened, brushing imaginary dust off her coat. “Figure it out, Suguru. Before it’s too late.” With that, she walked off, leaving him standing there, his thoughts swirling as heavily as the snow falling around him.

Later during the night, the rink cleared out a bit as the group reconvened, some of them sitting by the edge with hot chocolate while others skated lazily around. Cindy was chatting animatedly with Haibara, completely unaware of Suguru’s distracted state.

You had just stepped off the rink to fix your skates when Suguru appeared beside you, his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets. His presence caught you off guard.

“You’re getting better out there,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

You looked up at him, surprised. “Thanks. Shui’s been helping a lot.”

At the mention of Shui, Suguru’s jaw tightened, though he forced a small smile. “You seem... happy.”

You blinked, unsure of what to say. “I guess I am. It’s been nice.”

He nodded, glancing down at the ice. There was a tension in the air, a silence that felt heavier than it should. Finally, he spoke again. “Can we talk? Just for a second.”

The sincerity in his tone caught you off guard. You nodded, following him a few steps away from the group.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked, your breath visible in the cold air.

He hesitated, his dark eyes searching yours as though trying to find the right words. “I just... I wanted to say I’ve noticed how different you’ve been lately. With him.”

You blinked. “With Shui?”

He nodded, his gaze dropping to the ground. “Yeah. It’s... good. You deserve to be happy.”

The words felt forced, and you could hear the strain in his voice. Before you could respond, he stepped closer, his warmth cutting through the cold air between you.

“But…” He stopped, his breath hitching. “It’s hard to see you with someone else.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, his words hanging heavy in the air. You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, as he leaned in slightly, his gaze. His words hung in the air knowingly, as he moved a bit closer,the space so small closing in as your breathing, became much more rigid.

What was this feeling?

Frustration? Guilt? No. This was entirely different. This was pure, unfiltered anger.

For years, you had swallowed your feelings, buried them deep beneath the surface where they couldn’t hurt you—or him. You had watched him love someone else, choose someone else, while you stayed silent, convincing yourself it was better this way. And now, just when you’d started to heal, just when you’d found someone who made you feel seen and whole again, here he was. And for what? To pull you back into the storm you’d barely survived?

Your hand moved before your mind could catch up, the sharp sound of the slap cutting through the cold air. Suguru’s head turned slightly from the impact, his dark hair falling into his face. He didn’t flinch, didn’t even raise a hand to stop you.

“How dare you,” you said, your voice trembling with emotion. “How dare you make me feel like this. After all these years after ignoring me, after choosing her—you think you can just show up and ruin the one thing that’s finally made me happy?”

Suguru turned back to face you, his cheek reddened but his expression unreadable. His dark eyes, however, betrayed him. There was something there—something raw and vulnerable that you didn’t want to see.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he said quietly.

“Then stop,” you snapped, your voice rising. “Stop doing this. Stop making me feel like I’m losing my mind. You don’t get to do this to me, Suguru. Not now.”

He stepped closer, and you instinctively took a step back, but he reached out, his hand brushing against yours. “I didn’t realize,” he started, his voice breaking slightly, “how much I was losing until I saw you with him.”

“That’s not my fault,” you said, your voice shaking with anger and hurt. “You don’t get to want me now just because you’re scared of losing me. You made your choice, Suguru. You chose Cindy. And I chose to move on. For fucks sake you're engaged Suguru!”The last sentence cut through him like a blade,almost as if he forgot.

His grip on your wrist tightened—not enough to hurt, but enough to stop you from walking away. “I was scared,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I could ignore it, that it was just in my head. But it wasn’t. It’s never been in my head, and now it’s too late, isn’t it?”

You opened your mouth to respond, to throw another fiery remark at him, but before you could, his lips crashed against yours.

The kiss was desperate, almost feverish, like he was trying to say everything he couldn’t put into words. You froze, every part of you screaming to push him away, but for a moment—just one moment you let yourself feel it. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer, and it was as though the entire world disappeared.

Reality snapped back like a whip. You shoved him away, your breath ragged as you stared at him in disbelief. “What the hell is wrong with you?” you hissed, your hand trembling as you wiped your lips.

Suguru's lips parted, his dark eyes filled with regret and something else—something you didn't want to name.

"I—" he started, but the words caught in his throat.

Before either of you could say anything else, a voice cut through the icy tension, slicing it in two.

"What’s going on here?"

You froze, your blood running cold as you turned toward the sound. Cindy stood a few feet away, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her gaze shifting between you and Suguru. Her eyes narrowed, her usually soft features hardening into something unrecognizable.

Suguru immediately straightened, his expression unreadable as he turned to face her. “Cindy,” he said, his voice unnaturally calm.

“Don’t ‘Cindy’ me,” she snapped, stepping closer. “I saw it. I saw you kiss her.”

Your heart plummeted to your stomach, panic rising like a tidal wave. “It’s not what you think—”

“Oh, spare me,” Cindy cut you off, her voice sharp enough to draw blood. Her gaze locked on Suguru, her voice shaking with anger. “How long has this been going on? Was this some kind of sick joke between the two of you?”

“It’s not like that,” Suguru said quickly, his voice firm but tinged with desperation. “It just... happened.”

“‘It just happened’?” Cindy echoed, her voice rising. “Are you kidding me, Suguru? We’re engaged! Or did that just ‘happen’ too?”

The group, drawn by the commotion, began to gather nearby. Shoko was the first to approach, her sharp eyes darting between the three of you as she pieced together the scene.

“What’s going on?” Shoko asked, her voice steady but laced with concern.

Cindy turned to her, her voice cracking. “What’s going on is that I just caught my fiancé kissing her.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. You wanted to disappear, to run and never look back. Instead, you stood frozen, your gaze fixed on the ground as everyone’s eyes turned toward you.

“Cindy,” Suguru said again, stepping toward her. “I know how this looks, but—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted, her voice breaking. Tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them away, refusing to let them fall. “I trusted you. I believed in us. And this—this is what you do?”

For a moment, Suguru looked utterly lost, his calm facade shattered. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said quietly.

“But you did,” Cindy shot back, her voice trembling. “And the worst part? You didn’t even think about me. About us. Not for a second.”

She turned on her heel, walking away before anyone could stop her. The group stood in stunned silence, the festive air of the rink now heavy with tension. Your brimming eyes caught Shui, and your heart broke at the sight.

Shoko was the first to move, stepping closer to you. “Are you okay?” she asked softly.

You shook your head, unable to speak. Your gaze flickered to Suguru, who stood there, his shoulders slumped as he watched Cindy’s retreating figure.

“I should go,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Shoko nodded, her hand resting lightly on your arm. “I’ll come with you.”

As the two of you walked away, you could feel Suguru’s eyes on your back, the weight of his gaze like a physical pull. But you didn’t look back. You couldn’t. Not this time.

24 December 2024

The amount of days that has passed and the amount of guilt that surrounded your heart was unbearable. Your eyes swollen from all the tears you've spilled these past few days,are now stained through a soaking wet pillow.

Cindy.

Your mind drifted. The pain in your chest could never compare to the heartbreak she might be feeling now, the weight of guilt still clung to you like a heavy cloak, threatening to drown in despair. You never wanted to be the other woman, never in a million years have you thought of yourself that way,but yet here you are.

The other woman.

A knock was heard from your cosy Swiss Chalet. It was nearly seven—in the morning, who could be here so early?

With a deep sigh, you pushed yourself out of bed and made your way to the door. Opening the door widely, there she stood.

Cindy as perfect as ever, with her long black hair and red lips. The way she looked at you you couldn't tell if it was pure anger or if she felt sorry for you. The silence was erupted, softy by her sweet tone, “May I come in?”.

You nodded as, you opened the door widely for her to enter. The clack of her heels and long brown coat made her look so elegantly, you couldn't help but admire her.

You both seated, in the living room. Not one of you uttering a word so far.

“Cindy.. I-” you interrupted.

“I always knew he loved you”, she whispered as her eyes caught yours. The confession made your heart swell for a moment but yet break for her.

““...he always found reasons to be near you,” Cindy finished softly, her voice cracking just slightly. She looked down at her hands, fidgeting with the gold bracelet on her wrist, and you could see the weight of her words pressing down on her.

You swallowed hard, guilt surging through you like a tidal wave. “Cindy, I… I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I never—”

She raised a hand to stop you. “Please, don’t. I’m not here to point fingers or assign blame. I’ve had weeks to process this, and… I’ve come to terms with it.” Her red lips curved into a faint, bittersweet smile. “Suguru and I… we weren’t meant to be. I see that now.”

Her words stung more than you expected. You knew she was right; there was no denying the unspoken connection between you and Suguru. But the last thing you ever wanted was to hurt Cindy.

“I broke off the engagement,” she continued, her tone steady but void of the anger you half-expected. “We’ve decided to go our separate ways. It’s for the best.”

“I’m so sorry, Cindy.” Your voice was barely a whisper. “If I could go back, I’d—”

“Don’t,” she said again, her gaze sharp but not unkind. “What’s done is done. Suguru… he loves you. He always has. I just—” She took a deep breath, as if steadying herself. “I just hope you’ll take care of him. That’s all I ask.”

You nodded, tears threatening to spill as you reached out to touch her hand. “I promise.”

Cindy stood then, her heels clicking softly against the wooden floor. She adjusted her coat and gave you one last look, her expression unreadable. “Goodbye,” she said simply, and then she was gone, leaving behind a whirlwind of emotions.

The door had barely closed behind her when you felt a presence behind you. Turning, you saw Shui standing in the hallway, arms crossed, his face clouded with a mixture of hurt and confusion.

“Shui…” you began, guilt tightening your chest. “I didn’t know you were here.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “You didn’t need to. I saw everything.”

You stepped closer, desperation creeping into your voice. “I’m sorry, Shui. I never meant for you to get caught up in all of this.”

He exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t have to apologize to me. But you should’ve been honest—with Cindy, with Suguru, and with yourself. This didn’t have to end like this.”

“I know,” you said quietly, your voice barely audible. “I know I messed up. I’ll fix it, I promise.”

Shui studied you for a long moment before nodding slightly, his expression softening just a fraction. “Just… don’t let Cindy’s sacrifice be for nothing,” he said before walking away, leaving you alone with the crushing weight of everything that had happened.

You sat down on the couch, the silence of the room pressing in around you. Cindy’s words echoed in your mind, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to fully acknowledge the truth: you had to make things right, not just for Suguru, but for everyone who had been hurt in the process. And this time, you wouldn’t let them down.

25 December 2024

Finally, it was Christmas morning. Suguru busied himself with last-minute touches, his hands steady as he arranged the garlands around the hearth. The soft hum of laughter and chatter filled the room as friends gathered near the twinkling Christmas tree, their faces lit with joy. Despite the warmth and festive air, Suguru's thoughts were elsewhere, swirling with unease and anticipation.

“Suguru,” Gojo’s unmistakable voice broke through his focus. Suguru turned, only to find his friend wearing a knowing grin. “Stop pretending you’re not looking for someone,” Gojo teased, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

Suguru opened his mouth to retort, but then his breath hitched. There you were, standing by the doorway, wrapped in a soft sweater and scarf, snowflakes still melting in your hair. The world seemed to still as his gaze locked onto yours for the first time in weeks. A flood of emotions, relief, longing, and something deeper rushed through him as your lips curved into a tentative smile.

“Hey,” you said softly, stepping further into the room.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

The morning unfolded in a whirlwind of torn wrapping paper, shared laughter, and playful banter. But Suguru’s focus never strayed far from you. When it was his turn, he reached under the tree and pulled out a small, carefully wrapped package, his hands trembling slightly as he handed it to you.

“This is for you,” he murmured, his dark eyes watching your reaction intently.

You blinked, surprised, before carefully unwrapping the gift. Inside was a delicate necklace a simple gold chain with a tiny charm shaped like a star. It sparkled faintly under the warm glow of the Christmas lights.

“It reminded me of you,” he admitted, his voice low. “You’ve always been the brightest thing in my life.”

Your heart clenched at his words, and for a moment, you forgot everyone else in the room. “Suguru… it’s perfect. Thank you.”

As the day slipped into evening and the snowstorm outside intensified, the group gradually dispersed, leaving you and Suguru alone by the fireplace. The flames crackled softly, casting flickering shadows on the walls. Wrapped in a shared blanket, you both sat close, the warmth of the fire chasing away the chill in the air.

“I missed this,” Suguru said, breaking the comfortable silence. He glanced at you, his gaze tender. “Us. Talking. Laughing. Just… being.”

“I missed it too,” you admitted, resting your head on his shoulder. “I missed you.”

The hours stretched as you reminisce about old memories—late-night adventures, inside jokes, and moments of unspoken connection. The weight of the weeks apart seemed to dissolve with every shared smile, every stolen glance.

At some point, the conversation lulled, and Suguru tilted his head to look at you. His hand reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Before you could respond, his lips met yours. The kiss was slow at first, soft and exploratory, but quickly deepened as weeks of longing poured into the moment. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as the firelight danced around you.

“Suguru,” you breathed against his lips, your voice trembling with both desire and uncertainty.

“Come with me,” he murmured, his eyes dark with intent. He stood, pulling you to your feet, and without a second thought, the two of you slipped away into the stormy night.

His room was dimly lit, the faint glow of the snowstorm filtering through the curtains. The air was thick with unspoken words as he guided you inside, his hands warm and steady against yours.

Your skin was greeted by the soft kisses of his lips. There was no worries, no longer the wait that you have spent years on waiting for this man. Finally he had you all to himself.

Your heart pounded as his hands came into contact with your satin shirt. His kisses didn't fail once as the goosebumps seem to appear on your skin. A lowly chuckle could be heard from him as his hands made their way to your breasts only to squeeze them together.

Slowly the remaining clothes you both wore were on the floor. You laid there naked, on this very day just for him. Your voluptuous body made it hard for him to breathe in this now hot room. His now dark eyes ranked over your figure,imagining all the dirty things he can do to you.

Slowly his hands explored your now naked thighs,squeezing the soft flesh. A moan treated to escape your now red lips.

“The way, I used to imagine this, fuck”, his thick voice now clouded with lust. He pulled your now burning body, close the edge of the bed only to get down on your knees.

Never in your dreams have you thought this would happen. Suguru Geto down on his knees for you. His tongues darted out as he finally reached your waters, a low groan escaped his throat just enough to wake your core. The taste of you on his tongue was like heaven itself, a lustful man like himself has finally tasted the meal he most surely has been craving for the longest time

“Oh my-...” the muffled moans that were drawn from your pretty mouth, and your now arched figure was something he could now control. His tongue interned your now tight hole, with this action your hands flung to his long luscious locks.

“Suguru, oh my gosh”, a smirk invaded Suguru’s lips as he finally looked at your face. His one finger slipped in without permission, he slowly pumped the digest, driving you to ecstasy.

“So damn wet, can you hear yourself?” the question came out vaguely as he chuckled,proud of himself was an understatement. He made a mission for you to hear the sounds that escaped your now wet core.

“Suguru, please… ” you moaned louder as he started to go faster,and started licking your clit.

“Oh - Oh-Oh my.. fuck” your hands gripped onto him for dear life as you felt that familiar feeling creeping.

“Did you sleep with him?” What stupid questions was this man asking you? , while you were on the verge of coming. A loud slap could be heard as his one hand came into contact with the soft flesh of your thigh along with a sudden gasp from you.

“Answer me, I asked you a question”, his tone low and demanding as your eyes made contact with him.

“No…. I didn't” the words finally came out in a low cry.

“Good because you, belong to me” he murmured softly to you.

With his fingers so deep in you, his kisses made their way to your breasts only to sucked on your now sensitive nipples. Your breasts bounced slightly the faster his fingers went.His kisses finally reached your ear only to whisper the dirtiest secrets to you.

“Cum for me baby”his voice haled, and just like that he made you feel true ecstasy. His name rolled off your lips as he continued his ministries,until he rode out your orgasm.

The soft rhythm of your breathing filled the quiet space, and Suguru’s dark eyes roamed your face, searching for any hint of hesitation or concern. For the first time, you could truly see him—not just the man in front of you, but the intensity and passion that had always burned beneath the surface. It was overwhelming, almost too much, yet it felt right.

His lips found yours again, slow and deliberate, as though he had all the time in the world. His kiss carried a tenderness that made your heart flutter, and your hands instinctively cupped his cheek. A smile tugged at your lips as you remembered slapping him not long ago. The irony wasn’t lost on either of you.

His deep voice broke the moment, pulling a laugh from you. “At least I know my girl’s got a mean slap,” he teased, his grin devilish.

“You deserved it,” you shot back, your voice softer but still firm. “For everything you put me through.”

He didn’t deny it. Instead, his smile deepened, an unspoken acknowledgment that your words were true.

When he kissed you again, it was different. The slow tenderness gave way to something rougher, more urgent. His hands framed your waist as he lowered himself, his body fitting perfectly against yours. The warmth of him, the weight, the unspoken promise—it was enough to make your heart race.

Suguru hesitated, his movements slowing as his dark eyes met yours. He knew your boundaries, understood the reverence you held for yourself and your body. It hadn’t been years for him, but he knew it had been for you—since before you left high school, since the last boyfriend you had allowed close. That thought only made him more careful, more determined to handle you with care.

He pressed his lips to yours once more, a silent reassurance. His touch was reverent, patient, yet full of the fire that only Suguru could bring. He was ready—but only if you were, too.

Your eyes met for the slightest moment before his member stretched you out softly. A low moan could be heard from you as you wrapped your thighs around his hips.

“Fuck, you feel good” he mumbled against your skin kissing your colrbone—sucking on the soft spot to ease the unfamiliar feeling. Slowly he started to pump his member in and out of you stretching, your now tight woman hood just for him.

Your moans didn't go unnoticed by his actions ,as started sucking onto your right nipple.

“You feel that baby?” he asked you as you looked at him. A simple nod and moan slip your mouth.

“Fuck” he cursed underneath his breath. Without a word, you were on your stomach only for him to lift you slowly, pulling your hair slightly as he slid into you again.

“Oh my fuck, Suguru” this position made everything much more pleasant.

A loud slap was heard for the second time that night against your ass, a sign of dominance. You cried out loudly, the stinging feeling bringing a whole new sensation.

“Mine, all mine. It's like you were for me” he repeated his words as you felt his member twitch inside you. You couldn’t help but squeeze around him, only making him hiss at the pleasure.

“Come on baby, I'm close. Fuck” he gave you one last smack as he let go of your hair.

“Suguru I'm close” he hummed at your response and he started going faster and faster. Your second orgasm was finally approaching for the night,the tingling feeling starting to swell up in your core as you felt the way Suguru hit that one spot over and over again.

Finally you came along with him,the feeling of him filling your core with such ease, didn't go unnoticed. Your trembling figure laid out before him, as Suguru milked his way out, making sure none of his seeds go to waste.

The exhausted sound which came from him as he collapsed on top of your now, wet body.

Silence was all that could be heard as you lay beneath him, the storm outside a faint whisper against the windows. Suguru’s warm breath fanned against your skin, and for a moment, neither of you moved, both lost in the intensity of what had just unfolded.

Then, with a tenderness that made your heart ache, he gathered you against him, pulling you into his arms so you rested against his chest. His fingers traced lazy circles along your back, grounding you in the moment as you both basked in the quiet intimacy.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice soft and full of awe. “I never thought this would happen… that I’d have you like this.”

You tilted your head to look up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I guess Christmas miracles do exist.”

He chuckled, the deep, rich sound vibrating against your ear. “If you’re my miracle, then I must’ve been really good this year.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence again, the weight of unspoken emotions finally lifting. Suguru’s hand moved to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch so gentle it sent shivers down your spine.

“Do you regret it?” he asked suddenly, his tone hesitant, as though he feared your answer.

You shook your head, pressing a soft kiss to his chest. “Not for a second. I’ve wanted this—wanted you���for so long, Suguru.”

His arms tightened around you, as though he couldn’t bear to let you go. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you never regret it,” he promised, his voice thick with emotion.

“You already have,” you whispered, your voice catching as your heart swelled with love.

The storm outside seemed to ease, the wind quieting as if nature itself was giving you this moment of peace. Suguru leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips warm and reassuring.

“You’re everything to me,” he said softly, his dark eyes searching yours. “I want to build a life with you. Whatever happens, I want you by my side.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but they were happy ones. “I’m not going anywhere, Suguru. This is exactly where I’m meant to be.”

He smiled, a rare, unguarded expression that made him look almost boyish. “Good. Because I don’t think I’d survive losing you again.”

Nestled together, you both drifted into lighthearted conversation—talking about future plans, inside jokes, and everything in between. Suguru shared stories about his childhood, his dreams, and even the little things he loved about you that he’d never had the courage to say before.

By the time the storm completely passed, dawn was beginning to creep through the curtains, bathing the room in a soft, golden glow. Suguru’s arms tightened around you one last time as you both lay there, utterly content.

“Christmas will never be the same again,” he said, his voice laced with affection.

“No,” you agreed, pressing a final kiss to his lips. “It’ll be better.”

And as the morning light filled the room, you knew that this was just the beginning of a lifetime of happiness with Suguru by your side.

©suguru's-thoughts 2024, do not copy or translate my work. art work does not belong to me all credit goes out to the the artist. my banners are from the lovely @adornedwithlight!! 🤍

☃︎ taglist — @getobitchs 🍰🤍

a/n — just a reminder I was tired when I wrote the smut part, so there was less passion in my opinion . My writing usually has so much passion in the especially in those scenes I dislike it so much when I write smuts so vaguely :') I'll make sure to make it better when I do the rest of the ingredients for Fruitcake !! 🍰

[lovelettersfromluna]

Under Your Spell

summary: what’s that old saying? Best way to get over someone is to get under…..yeah yeah, we all know where this going, don’t we?

an: Hi! Long time no see, huh? I hope you’ve all been doing well! I’ve missed it here a lot, more than you could ever know. The semester is over, and I’m finally free! (For a little bit). College is very hard, and it took a lot of me this year, but let’s not get into that right now. This chapter has been VERY long awaited, and I am so sorry that it’s taken this long to get to you all. This one is pretty short, but not only did I want to get it out to you all in time, but I also have lots planned for the next chapter! (Luna you’re putting four parts into one of your fics???) I know I know, shocker right? Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this past despite it being short! Love you 🤍🤍🤍

warnings: MDNI!, 18+ fic only, slight smut, lots of angst, mean!Ellie, idiot!Ellie??, Abby’s in this one hehe, making out, drinking, let me know if I missed anything!

Part 1, Part 2

Sleeping in your bed had become extremely difficult.

It was like every time you laid your head against the soft pillows, your skin sliding against the soft material of your sheets, your brain would be filled with images of Ellie. The feeling of her lips on your throat, her hands on your hips, everything she’d given to you was permanently burned into your memory.

You couldn’t get away from her, no matter what you did.

You let out a soft sigh as you sat at your old desk, your cheek resting against your palm as your fingers traced along the smooth material of the wood. Things had gotten a lot trickier after your last night with Ellie, your mind clouded with confusion regarding the entire ordeal.

Ellie had….sought out for you. She definitely did the first time but there was something about her coming home from a night out, and slipping into your sheets that had your mind in shambles. It didn’t make any sense, you were sure that whatever happened between you and Ellie was a one off, something that was influenced mainly by alcohol and forced proximity. The played out story of the brother’s best friend ending up in a sticky situation with the younger sister. It was cliche, but it happened.

That didn’t change that it left your stomach in knots every time you heard the floorboards creak near Ellie’s room.

You’d done a pretty good job at avoiding her and the entire situation. It meant that you were in complete and total lockdown, even worse than before, however it saved any awkward tension, which you’d much rather trade for a few months of complete isolation.

But as all good things did, it was coming to an end.

Because you were given a choice, one that dangled your pride, and your social life in your face, forcing you to choose which you valued more.

Every summer, a huge party was thrown down at the beach. You and your brother joined as soon as you were old enough to drink, your parents went when they were younger, their parents went, and nearly everyone in your town experienced it at least once. It was like a tradition, one that every young person would look forward to.

It was one of your favorite parts about being home for the summer.

However, there wasn’t a party thrown in town that your brother and Ellie wouldn’t join.

And that’s where your choice came in.

You’d been going back and forth with yourself all week, weighing out the pros and the cons of it all. You knew that there were ways to get around her, to make sure that you wouldn’t see here while you were out there. To top it all off, you hated the idea of letting Ellie rip away one of your favorite things to do while you were home, giving her that much power didn’t make any sense to you.

But you still couldn’t push yourself to do it.

You swiveled your chair back and forth, staring up at your ceiling as you struggled to make a decision. However the clock was ticking, and the party was officially happening tonight. You didn’t have much time to go back and forth with yourself anymore.

It was either you swallow your pride, go out and enjoy yourself for the first time since everything happened with Ellie, ultimately standing up for yourself and sending her a big fuck you while doing so…

Or

You let her win. You sacrifice your time there and you let Ellie steal your time. You let her make a fool out of you by being too hung up on the very weird attention she’d been giving you, and you stay in your room for yet another night while everyone else is having the time of their lives.

Thinking of it that way didn’t leave you much of an option, did it?

You practically rip your room apart looking for the perfect outfit to wear, which ends up being a pink halter top that flows down a bit at the ends, a pair of your favorite denim shorts and your sneakers. By the time you’re finishing up your hair and your makeup, you hear the faint sound of your brothers minions showing up, pairing that with the music that starts playing leaves you to figuring they’re probably pregaming before they leave.

That’s when it starts feeling real.

You let out a deep sigh as you stare in the mirror, fixing your top over your chest before fluffing out your hair and fixing your lip gloss, giving yourself a gentle affirming nod before you push your phone into your back pocket and head downstairs.

A blanket of silence falls between Derek and his friends when they notice you, multiple sets of eyes zeroing in on you as you slip between your brother and one of his friends silently to pour a shot before throwing it back with ease. Hazels the first to comment on it.

“Awe man, I didn’t think the first grader could hang….you joining us tonight sweetie?” She taunts, her perfect teeth pressing down into her plush bottom lip as she stares at you, a challenging look in her eye.

Derek is the next one to speak up, a surprised look on his face as he stares down at you. “Wait…really? You’re coming with us?” He quips hopefully. Had Hazel kept her fucking mouth shut, you probably would’ve found the sentiment sweet from him.

You inhale deeply to calm yourself, staring down into the empty shot glass before you finally raise your eyes to look at Hazel, only to find her standing across the island, her back pressed into Ellie’s chest as her tattooed hands toy with the exposed skin of Hazel’s waist.

You completely ignore Ellie’s eyes burning holes into you.

“Shut the fuck up Hazel” you bite back before pouring another shot.

Your words earns reactions from the group instantly, even your brother chuckling softly as he gives you a proud smile. Hazel however, is not amused in the slightest.

Her poker face drops for a moment, nostrils flaring as she stares you down like she wants to jump over the table and have you for herself, but she quickly picks it up, giving you an impressed smirk before she nods slowly.

“Ahh so she speaks…my apologies sweetheart” she practically grits out before she lets out an annoyed sigh.

“Let’s go then. I don’t wanna be late” she quickly seethes out, pushing herself out of Ellie’s arms so she can grab her purse that was sitting on the couch.

You trail behind the others after your brother reassures you things will be okay, giving him a soft smile as you all pile into his car, ultimately missing the way Ellie’s eyes trail you the entire times

The car ride there feels nostalgic. The summer breeze turns cooler the closer you get to the familiar beach, your brother blasting his music in the front as you rest your head against the edge of the window, letting the wind blow through your hair.

It makes you wish things were different. The warmth in your chest would’ve paired so well with a better crowd, one that didn’t see you as the annoying little sister that tagged along when she really shouldn’t be.

Your mind takes you to an alternate reality where things are different, one where you get along with your brother’s friends. You wonder if they’d like you if they gave you the chance, if they weren’t predisposed to not liking you simply because you’re younger than them…

You wonder if things had been different, if you and Ellie could’ve been something.

Because clearly there’s attraction there, there had to be. Were you so wrong for even letting your brain wander there? Wondering what life would be like if you and Ellie were cordial, let alone experimenting with a relationship in a normal way, and not the way you’d been going on for this past summer.

What would it be like if she treated you the way she treated Hazel while others were around? What would it be like if you were in Hazel’s position? Propped up in Ellie’s lap while the others sang songs and joked around with each other?

You’d never know, because you were in this reality, not a perfect one.

You don’t even realize when your brother pulls up to the beach. The gentle shake of the car as his friends practically run out is what rips you away from your thoughts. You clear your throat as you make your way out once everyone is gone, brushing down your outfit as you make your way down the familiar path to the beach. The beach is blossoming with the sound of life. Loud music quickly surrounds you, people dancing, swimming, drinking, it’s almost so perfect it feels cliche, and that alone reminds you that you’d made the right decision by deciding to come out.

You’re the moth, and the ocean is your flame.

It draws you in closer as you sip the drink from your solo cup, appreciating the pattern of the tide rolling in, wetting the sand beneath it, only to then pull back out shortly after. It’s what you’d missed most about the beach in your home town, its ability to calm you no matter what was almost remarkable, even with the crowd of people around you.

You have to stop yourself from walking too far down the beach, knowing deep down that Derek’s friends would take any chance to ditch you while we’re oblivious to what was going on. It’s how you end up out on one of the piers, your legs dangling over the edge as you stare up at the moon, watching as the waves roll in while you sip on your drink.

There’s heavy footsteps along the wooden pier, ones that you don’t quite catch between the heavy sound of the waves, and the music nearby. It isn’t until a familiar voice rings in your ear that you realize you’re not alone.

“You know I heard you were back in town….but I thought there’s no way you’d come back without texting me first” the words come from behind you, and your eyes widen once you catch the tall frame standing over you.

Abby Anderson

She was one of your closest friends back in elementary school. It wasn’t nice to admit, but you’d drifted apart once you both got to high school. It was in the most natural way possible, but she always managed to stick around in your mind from time to time.

Before all of that, you two were stuck at the hip. It was a similar friendship to Ellie and your brother, the two of you always running through your house, causing many headaches for both your parents and her parents whenever you were both together.

You hadn’t seen Abby in years since you left for college, it’d been so long that you didn’t even realize how long it had been.

Her physique was quite the sign that time had passed though.

You gasp softly when you realize it’s her, quickly pushing yourself up off the pier to push yourself into her already opened arms.

“I didn’t know you came back for the summer…god it’s been so long” you sigh out against her broad shoulders, the sweet smell of her perfume filling your nose as you let your eyes flutter shut, relishing in the feeling of her strong arms wrapping around your waist.

“You’d know if you thought to hit me up once in a while” she teases. You can hear the smirk in her voice as she keeps you close. It makes you giggle softly as you finally pull away from her, wanting to get a good look at the girl.

She’s just as pretty as you remember. Abby always had the prettiest blonde hair, and the most charming smile. Those were never things that you failed to notice about your friend, however she’s different now. She’s taller, her build a hell of a lot more stronger than when you were in elementary school, her hair longer and tucked into a thick braid…

You have to stop yourself from staring.

She peers down into your cup, noticing that you were getting empty. She nods her head towards the bonfire before speaking.

“Let’s top you up while you tell me alllll about your life in the big city, yeah?” She offers, to which you dumbly nod to as you follow next to her almost obediently.

After that, the two of you were glued to the hip the entire night. Between catching up on what life had brought the two of you within your adult years, and reminiscing over your time as kids, the world could be burning around the both of you and you two wouldn’t have noticed a thing. For the first time since you’d came home, you had finally found someone to spend time with.

And Ellie notices the entire thing.

Her eyes were on you the entire night. From the moment you came downstairs at the house, it was like she was under some fucked up spell that made it so she couldn’t function unless you were in her line of view. She couldn’t count on her hands how many annoyed sighs she received when her friends realized she wasn’t listening to what they were saying, instead busying herself with figuring out where the hell you were.

She tracked you like she was the predator, and you were her prey. She made sure you didn’t stray too far away from the group, made sure you didn’t do something stupid like strip naked to take a quick dip into the cold ocean. She was just being helpful! It wasn’t like she felt her mouth go dry every time it looked like someone was going to approach you….

And its like fate was on your side that night, because the moment Abby approached you at the dock, Hazel was settling herself into Ellie’s lap, toying with the hair at the nape of her neck and ultimately blocking you from her view completely.

The next time she does get a chance to see you again, you’re wrapped up in none other than Abby Anderson’s arms.

It’s just her luck, isn’t it? That out of every girl in your small beachside town, you choose that fucking idiot. You choose the girl that everyone knows to be Ellie’s sworn fucking enemy since forever. The only explanation is that you’re doing this on purpose. You know exactly what to do to get under Ellie’s skin. You did it when you were flirting with Jesse right in front of her, you did it when you kicked her out of your bedroom the last time you two were together, and you were doing it right fucking now by getting all cozy with Abby fucking Anderson.

So of course, she has to try and stop this.

But Ellie soon realizes that she spends way too much time mentally dwelling over this, and accusing you of something she knew deep down was very much out of character for you, because the second her eyes search for the two of you, she’s met with something she can only assume was pulled out of her worst nightmare.

You and Abby hand in hand as she helps you into her car.

Ellie is quick to push Hazel off her lap, her eyes now frantically searching for your brother. Once she spots him, she’s interrupting his conversation the moment she opens her mouth.

“Hey man…have you um….do know where your sisters going right now?” She asks almost out of breath, her eyes shifting quickly between Derek and Abby’s truck as she pulls out of her spot in the parking lot.

Your brother raises his eyebrows as he looks back to where you are in the girls car, nodding as he takes a sip of his drink. “Yeah, she just came and told me her friend is gonna take her home” he explains casually with a shrug before he tries to turn back to his conversation.

Ellie scoffs in disbelief at his casual tone, her hand reaching forward to grab his shoulder and turn him around to face her again.

“Friend? Did you even see who she was leaving with?” Her voice is laced with worry and distress as she complains to your brother, the man oblivious to Ellie’s frantic demeanor.

“Wasn’t it just Abby? They’ve been friends forever…I honestly don’t trust anyone other than that girl. Have you seen her fucking arms? I think my sister is in good hands with her” he chuckles softly as he gives Ellie’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Between his words and his reaction to the entire thing, Ellie feels like she’s going to lose her fucking mind.

Her green eyes go wide as she stares at your brother before she gives a laugh of disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me? It’s just Abby? As in Abby fucking Anderson? Are we talking about the same girl here? Or are you suffering from fucking brain damage?” She snaps back.

Her wild eyes and mean words take your brother back, his playful laughter dying down once he realizes that he friend is quite literally tweaking over the fact that you’ve left with the girl that he knew she had some beef with.

“Woah…calm down man. It’s just my sister, your beef with Anderson doesn’t really have anything to do with her…she’ll be fine” he tries to assure her once more, his tone softening to calm his friend.

This does nothing though. It makes Ellie pinch the bridge of her nose in annoyance as she shakes her head. “Give me your keys” she demands with her palm out, pushed towards him.

Derek furrows his brows in confusion. “What? Are you seriously going to-“ he’s quickly cut off by Ellie, stopping him from finishing his question.

“Give me your fucking keys Derek. I’m not letting that asshole get it in with your sister” she finally admits, her words making your brothers eyes go wide with realization, finally seeing the situation for what it really was.

He inhales deeply before he reaches into his pocket and finally places his keys into his friends hand without another word, biting back the smirk that threatened to grace his lips.

He always thought Ellie’s animosity towards you was weird, but he never thought it would mean this all along.

She doesn’t even notice, the girl quickly taking the keys and mumbling a small ‘thanks’ as she jogs up the path to the parking lot to jump into your brothers car, and race home.

Meanwhile at your house, Abby was showing you quite the time.

It didn’t take long for you two to give into the tension that had settled the moment she picked you up from the dock. One moment you were toying with the little loose hairs falling from her braid and framing her face, and the next you were tugging her up to your bedroom and locking the door behind you.

Her hands were all over you, caressing your body as her knee began grinding into your core, her lips swallowing up your moans as you clung to her desperately, chasing your high as if your life depended on it.

The feeling of Abby against you cleared Ellie out of your head almost immediately. You weren’t worried about her or the mean things she’d said to you, or the nasty way she’d treated you after getting what she wanted from you. What once was a bed that you could barely sleep in without thinking of her was now filled with the feeling of Abby, and you couldn’t be more grateful.

Ellie realizes she’s too late when she pulls into your driveway to see Abby’s truck is still there, and she has to stop herself from ripping your brothers car door off when she gets out and slams it closed. There’s still something in her that hopes this is all innocent, that you didn’t really do the unthinkable and take Abby Anderson home to spite her. She hopes that the sweet side of you has taken the moral high ground, that you’ve gone to bed like the good girl she knows you are and Abby just happened to walk home and leave her car in your driveway.

So when she’s jogging on the stairs after frantically searching for you downstairs, hoping that she’ll find you sound asleep in your bed, her blood practically runs cold when her hand wraps around your doorknob…

And she can make out the familiar sounds of your moans through your door, paired with Abby’s words of encouragement to go with it.

[headkiss]

it’s christmas (this is gonna be a nightmare)

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve puts a little too much pressure on himself to make this holiday a magical one. or: 4 times steve messes up your first christmas together, +1 time it's perfect.

word count: 7.4k

content: established relationship, one injury (no blood!), some kisses, a lot of steve's thoughts, and a love confession <3 fluff all around!!!

a/n: a full length fic!! it's a christmas miracle!! thank you to the anon who sent the ask that inspired this fic and to all of u for being here. i love u, happy holidays <3

⁺̇◍̇̇̇⁺̇̇̇⊛̇̇̇̇⁺̇̇̇◍̇̇̇⁺̇

Steve Harrington doesn’t know too much about what exactly a perfect Christmas looks like. He has his parents to thank for that.

What he does know is that this year has to be just that: perfect. Because this year he has you.

Though you went to high school together, you and Steve properly met in the summer. Right at the beginning of it, where the evenings still have a chill of wind but the sun cuts through it with welcomed warmth. Robin convinced him to take her to the flower shop just outside of town, and you’d been behind the counter to greet them.

Robin recognized you, and she chatted your ear off while you helped her pick a bouquet with the sweetest smile Steve had ever seen and he felt like an absolute moron for never having noticed you before at school. But he noticed you then.

He’d forced Robin to wait for him in the car while he stayed back, bought you your own bouquet of flowers from the store as if you weren’t the one who’d made them, and asked you on a date. Steve fumbled the whole way through, pricking himself with a rose thorn and cussing mid-sentence, but you still said yes.

You’ve been together ever since, and Steve feels incredibly lucky for it. Lucky for how kind you are, how well you fit in with his friends, how much the kids (Max, especially, though he won’t call her out on it) like you. Lucky for being allowed to grab your hand, to kiss you whenever he wants.

And, on the nights you stay over that grow more frequent with each month, lucky to have you fill the space in the Harrington home that usually feels so cold and empty.

So, maybe the holidays make him extra sentimental, maybe he cares a little too much about making sure it’s the best damn Christmas you could have. Maybe, for once, he’s actually looking forward to it all.

Robin startles him into the present — leaning on the counter at Family Video — with a stiff poke to the cheek. “Dude, I can literally tell you’re thinking about her by the look on your face. It’s kinda gross.”

He scoffs at her, even though he probably was making a face. “Sounds like jealousy to me, Buckley.”

“Shut up, if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even know each other! I deserve compensation.”

Steve hangs his head dramatically. Robin is never letting that go. Ever.

“My friendship isn’t enough for you?” Steve says, placing a hand over his heart, “You wound me.”

“You annoy me,” she says, flicking his arm.

“Ow- whatever. You’ll be free of me in like five minutes.”

Steve checks his watch just to be sure. Robin’s closing by herself today, and while Steve would normally just stay and bother her anyways, he’s got plans that involve you and takeout and napping together on his couch.

As if the thought conjures it, you walk through the door, the bell jingling cheerily above your head, Steve’s car keys dangling from your fingertips. (Yes, he lets you drive the BMW.)

“Thank God,” Robin says when she sees it’s you. “Please get rid of him, he’s getting on my nerves.”

You smile and walk towards Steve, who immediately tosses an arm over your shoulders and pulls you in close, stamping a kiss to the side of your head.

You turn your head to the side and look at him, “What did you do?”

Steve gasps, “Me? Honey, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

You send him a wink, and Steve grins. He fucking loves having you with him, being able to speak without speaking. Your hand grabbing his and squeezing says I missed you, his squeezing back says me too.

“Okay, please remove your public displays of affection from the store and leave me alone with the overplayed Christmas song radio station, thank you.” Robin announces.

“Don’t miss me too much, Robs. I know it’ll be tough,” Steve says, guiding you forward.

“Good to see you, Robin!” you wave on your way out.

“You too!” And just before the door closes behind you, Robin’s voice rings out; “You’re my favourite half of the relationship!”

Your smile widens. Steve is the best thing that’s happened to you, and his friends becoming yours is one of the greatest bonuses you could ask for. It’s like his life made room for you as simply as the ocean’s tide pulls in and out. Gentle and certain.

He catches the keys when you toss them to him, and Steve’s mood just seems to lift and lift on the drive back to his place with you in the passenger seat, Christmas lights lining the streets glowing on your cheeks.

Yeah, he thinks, this Christmas is going to be perfect.

-

1.

That weekend Steve calls you and tells you to be ready by noon and to dress warmly. He doesn’t tell you much else besides his usual ‘see you soon, honey’ or ‘miss you’ murmured sweetly through the phone.

As instructed, you’re dressed in a pair of jeans and one of your favourite knitted sweaters, your brown leather jacket overtop and socked feet stuffed into your Doc Martens. Though you feel plenty warm, Steve will probably fuss over you and hold you close for body heat anyways. And, well, you’d never be opposed to that.

Steve’s BMW rolls into your driveway exactly one minute past twelve, and by the time you walk outside to meet him, he’s already standing on the passenger side of the car waiting to open the door for you.

“Always a gentleman,” you say, kissing him quickly on the cheek.

You slide into the seat that’s become yours for the most part, and Steve ducks down to kiss you properly on the mouth before pulling back, “Mm maybe not always.”

He closes your door and you laugh lightly, your face a little warm even though he’s been your boyfriend for months now. You don’t think you’ll ever be unaffected by Steve Harrington’s charm, ever be used to it being aimed at you.

Of course, you knew of him in school, but knowing the real thing, the kind, caring boy who’d been buried under King Steve back then, is probably the greatest gift you’ve ever had.

Steve drives with one hand just above your knee, his thumb running back and forth over the stitching in your jeans. Still, he doesn’t tell you where he’s taking you, his only hint was to “pay attention to the radio station.”

It’s playing Christmas music. Like that narrows things down a whole bunch.

You chat the entire way. Steve asks you how the flower shop is doing (“Poinsettias are flying off the shelves”), you ask him who he got for the group’s secret Santa this year (“Max. I’m going to need your assistance”). It’s so easy to talk to him, to laugh and joke and not have to worry about what you say or how you come off.

You never knew being with someone could be so easy until Steve.

Eventually, he pulls into the long driveway of a farm. A Christmas tree farm, to be exact, if the wooden arch you drive through is to be trusted.

“What are you planning, Harrington?”

He shrugs, his hand squeezing your knee, “Thought we could pick out a tree together. Put it up at the house. My parents aren’t gonna be around — shocker, I know — I figured we’d do it together. Make it our own.”

Steve pats your leg before letting it go and putting the car in park, his palms dragging over his thighs like he’s suddenly nervous.

“Our first Christmas tree,” you say quietly, almost to yourself, a smile creeping onto your face. He really is sweet. “I love it. Let’s go adopt a tree, Stevie.”

He flashes you a smile before getting out and jogging around the hood to open your door for you. You’ve learned to wait for him to do it since you’ve been together. The last time you tried to open your own door he made you close it again just so he could be the one to open it.

Before, you’d never really cared about that sort of thing, but Steve has single-handedly raised your expectations.

He grabs your hand and leads you towards the classic red and white barn, following the signs painted simply with a tree and an arrow pointing you in that direction.

When you turn the corner and see the selection of trees, however, Steve pauses.

There are maybe seven trees left, none of which are very impressive upon first glance. Their branches are skinny and the pine needles leave a lot of space to see through them. It’s safe to say these aren’t the Christmas trees Steve was hoping to surprise you with.

He was sure there’d be something better left, at least. And he’d been wrong. Minus a point on that perfect Christmas, he supposes.

Still, he walks you to the selection, the farm’s employee greeting the two of you as you walk up; “Hey y’all. Good afternoon!”

“Hey man,” Steve starts, “you wouldn’t happen to have any more trees left, would you?”

“Sorry folks, this is all we’ve got. Most people like to get ‘em early.”

Steve’s hope dwindles, and you can see him deflate a little bit.

You, however, don’t mind one bit. You tug on his arm to get his attention, and Steve turns to look at you, brown eyes shining like honey in the sunlight. “It’s okay,” you tell him. “Even the little trees need homes, right?”

He shakes his head with a small smile. It’s cute, he thinks, the way you tend to talk about plants as if they have feelings. You do it when you tell him about the flowers you sell, too.

“Right as usual, honey,” he decides. “Pick your favorites.”

So, you wind up with two small Christmas trees rather than one full one, and there’s a small victory in it when you and Steve strap them both to the top of the BMW without too much of a struggle.

Another victory when you sing along to ‘Last Christmas’ and hold out your fist as if there’s a microphone in your grip to get him to join you. Admittedly, it isn’t a very good rendition, but Steve loves it all the same.

You have a way of turning things around for him, even without knowing it.

When you get back to Steve’s, he brings both of the trees inside and sets them up before bringing down the bins of ornaments and lights from the attic. He only shouted once when a spider crawled over his hand.

Having two trees makes it easy to turn decorating into a lighthearted competition. You both claim one as your own and decorate them with string lights and tinsel and ornaments. Steve’s mom would probably have an aneurysm seeing them used so haphazardly.

Though by the end, your tree is definitely prettier, Steve still feels like he’s won something as you lean your back against his chest and his arms cross over your own, keeping you there.

As a kid, he wasn’t even allowed to do the decorating. Mrs. Harrington had to make everything look picture perfect, and Steve’s hands didn’t help with that. Not according to her.

Today couldn’t feel more different from those memories of his childhood.

“Yours is better,” he tells you, chin perched on your shoulder, his voice low in your ear.

Objectively, it probably is better (your prior experience with arranging plants was an advantage), but you don’t actually care about that.

Today felt like a little glimpse into the future you and Steve could have. It’s easy to picture it: your own apartment, buying decorations you both actually like, setting it all up together every year.

“I think they’re both brilliant,” you say.

And while today wasn’t what he was picturing, wasn’t what he’d hoped for with his ideal holiday in mind, Steve finds that he can certainly live with that. Your adorable little clap when you’d finished decorating was enough to cement it.

It’s only one thing. He’s got plenty of chances to be perfect later, he guesses.

Steve dips his head and kisses the top of your shoulder over your sweater.

-

2.

You stay over at Steve’s that weekend. You’re both off work, and you find yourself spending your days (and nights) off with Steve more and more.

In the morning, you blink your eyes open slowly, naturally. No alarm set, your boy wrapped around you. It’s how you’ll spend every morning someday.

The sunlight sneaks through a crack in the curtains, cutting a line across Steve’s blue bedding. You squint at it, shifting onto your back gently. Steve’s arm remains slung over your waist as you move, his knee against your leg. You roll your head to the side to look at him, a smile creeping over your mouth at the way his cheek is smushed into the pillow, his lips pouting and hair a mess over his forehead.

Mornings have easily become your favorite time to spend with Steve. He’s cuddling you in some way every single time without fail, even when he wakes up. His voice is all low and gravelly from sleep and it feels like an honor to get to be the one to hear it like that. Usually, you spend an hour in bed with him after waking up. Laying together, talking, kissing. Sometimes (often) more.

You’d stay put right now if you didn’t have to pee so bad.

Slipping out of bed without Steve noticing proves a challenge, his arm tightens over you in his sleep, his brows scrunching. You whisper a soft “I’ll be right back.” He mumbles something incoherent, but his arm relaxes and you’re able to sneak away.

On your way back from the bathroom, you pause and take a peek out the window. You gasp happily at what you see: snow. A bright, white layer blanketing the ground sparkling in the sunlight.

You turn back to the bed and let yourself fall to it with a bounce, earning another grumbled protest from Steve, but there’s no way you’re going back to sleep now. You trail a hand up his arm to his shoulder, giving it a small shake, “Stevie, wake up.”

“Hm?” his eyes scrunch before opening. “What happened, honey?”

“It snowed!”

“Yeah?” he huffs a laugh at your excitement, his hand searching for yours in the sheets.

“Yeah, and it’s so pretty. We should go out before it melts.”

“It’s winter, sweetheart. Not gonna melt that fast.”

“Steve.”

“Okay, okay,” his hand leaves yours in favor of wrapping itself around you again, and he uses it to tug you close again. “Just five more minutes.”

His nose is pressed to the top of your head, and he breathes you in, smiling to himself. Mornings are Steve’s favorite, too. Only when they’re spent with you.

Secretly, he’s also happy about the snow. He was hoping mother nature would be on his side so that he could check yet another holiday item off his list with you. Hopefully one that will turn out nicer than the tiny trees you’d ended up with.

It’s definitely more than five minutes by the time you get Steve to get up and out of bed. You attempt to get him outside right away. He stops you with a: “No snow-related activities on an empty stomach!”

So, it’s a rushed breakfast of bagels and coffee provided by Steve, and then you’re gearing up and heading into the back yard.

The cold bites at your cheeks, and the tip of Steve’s nose is pink within minutes, but you love it.

There’s a snowman built together, snow angels made that get ruined when Steve rolls himself on top of you and steals a kiss or five. Naturally, all there is left to do is have a snowball fight.

You start it when you’re still on the ground, a hand sneaking into the snow to grab a handful and pressing it to the back of Steve’s head. He gasps, and you take the opportunity to push him to the side and get up.

“No fair!” he calls. “I was distracted and you went for the hair.”

“Your fault for not wearing a hat, babe,” you laugh.

“Oh, you won’t be laughing for long, honey. You’re in for it.”

And just like that, you’re running around like kids in a schoolyard, hiding behind trees, slugging snowballs at each other and cheering when you manage to not miss.

Steve silently thanks mother nature or the universe or whatever made it snow for the wide smile on your face, your eyes shining with mirth.

At one point, you’re suddenly distracted by something in the trees, and the snowball is out of Steve’s hand before he sees you start to look towards him again.

It hits you square in the face.

A quick “Ow” comes out of your mouth, though it really doesn’t hurt that bad. Your first reaction is just to let it slip, but Steve’s heart sinks to his stomach.

“Shit, honey.” He runs over to you and cups your face in his hands, his mittens soft against your skin as he brushes the snow from your face. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t tryin’ to get you in the face.”

Minus another point, for sure. Perfect Christmas: -2.

“I know, don’t worry,” you tell him, because he clearly is worrying.

“You okay?” he checks. He literally winces when you sniffle, frowns when he sees the way your eyes water. “Honey. I’m sorry.”

“Honestly, Steve, I’m fine,” you reach up and grab his wrists, squeezing them over his jacket. “I’m only crying ‘cause it got my nose. It doesn’t actually hurt.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” you assure him. “Didn’t you used to play sports in school? Thought athletes had better aim.”

“I was a swimmer, baby. No projectiles involved.” He smiles softly when you laugh, but he can’t stop himself from asking one more time. “You’re really not hurt?”

“It’s just a bit of snow, Stevie.”

His eyes run over your face anyway before he nods. Then, he dips forwards and lightly kisses your cheek, the other, the tip of your nose, and your mouth.

“Well now I’m certainly all better,” you say against his lips.

Steve pulls back but doesn’t go far. “I think this snowball fight is over.”

“Buzzkill,” you tease.

He bends down and picks up a handful of snow before shoving it in his own face.

“Steve!” you laugh.

“There, now we’re even,” he says, snowflakes clinging to his lashes.

You let him lead you inside after that, his arm draping over your shoulders, yours hugging his middle as you walk across the yard.

Once you’ve both shed your layers of coats and boots and hats and mittens, Steve takes you upstairs and runs you a bath to warm you up. He apologizes another two times when he looks at your face for too long, and you have to kiss him to stop him uttering another ‘sorry.’

Hell, if it’s gonna make him this sweet on you, you’d probably take a snowball to the face any day.

Eventually, when the bathtub is full, a layer of bubbles over the surface, you coax Steve into joining you. He leans against the side with you between his knees, back settling into its home against his chest, his chin resting atop your head.

Steve runs his hands over your shoulders, presses kisses into your hair. All along he’s reminding himself that the next thing will go right. He won’t be throwing anything, at least.

-

3.

The next weekend Steve calls you again. He asks you to be ready in the evening this time, but still keeps things vague other than the fact that you’ll be outside and need thick socks.

You have a pretty good idea of what he has in mind, but he’d called it a ‘redemption date’ over the phone and even though you truly don’t think he has anything to redeem himself for, you don’t want to spoil his plans, so you play along.

He comes to the front door when he picks you up this time, knocking gently as if you hadn’t been waiting for him by the windows.

“Hi, honey,” he drops a quick kiss to your lips, “had to come and approve your outfit. Don’t want you getting cold and stealing my jacket again.”

He’s lying, really. Steve fucking loves draping his own jacket over your shoulders and seeing you pull it tighter around you. When that happens, he braves the cold, but he figures that probably won’t be smart for spending hours outside.

“Aww, but yours is so much warmer than mine,” you pout jokingly.

Steve simply grabs your thickest jacket from a hook by the door and holds it out for you to slip your arms into.

As suspected, he drives you to a skating rink. He chose one a town over from Hawkins, where they have twinkle lights strung above the rink and rainbow Christmas lights lining the boards. Steve smiles when you gasp lightly in delight at the sight of it. The brightness cutting through the already dark night sky.

Steve guides you over to the skate rental booth first, bumping his hip into yours when you attempt to pay for the rentals. “As if. My idea, my wallet.”

“You don’t even let me pay when it’s my idea, either.”

“Well, that’s just chivalry, babe.”

You roll your eyes at him and thank the man behind the booth when he hands you both your skates. As you walk towards the lockers and cubbies set up nearby, you lean up and kiss Steve’s cheek, his light stubble scratching your lips.

“Thank you for this,” you say.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he tells you. “Though I should warn you that I’m not very good at this.”

“What? You, not good at something? Please.”

“No, seriously. I’m like bambi on ice.”

You laugh and shove his shoulder weakly, “Don’t worry. I’m probably even worse.”

Steve grins. So far, so good. This one will be perfect. Well, as perfect as it can be considering his skating skills.

You sit on one of the benches and Steve puts both of your shoes in one of the cubbies. He ties his own skates first before kneeling in front of you to help you with yours. He knows how to tie them, at the very least.

He helps you slip your feet into the skates first, then tightens the laces on one before peering up at you and checking, “Feel okay? Not too tight?”

“It’s good, Steve. I feel like Cinderella.”

“A perfect fit! She must be the one!”

“Dork.”

“That’s prince dork to you.”

Steve finishes up with your skates, squeezing your ankle before setting your foot down and standing back up.

On the ice, neither of you are very graceful. You hold onto the boards most of the time, and Steve stumbles and nearly falls every few strides, but you’re laughing and having fun, so who cares?

So what if you get lapped by multiple people on the rink, including children? So what if you get some side eyes for being too slow or in the way? Neither of you can bring yourselves to be bothered.

Best of all, Steve keeps a hold on your hand the entire time. He literally saves you from falling with his grip on your hand squeezing and pulling you up straight.

However, your hands being clasped also means that, inevitably, when one of you goes down, you both do.

It happens after a decent amount of laps; your toe pick catches on a dip in the ice and it’s all it takes for you to lose your balance. Steve somehow twists himself to catch the brunt of your fall.

He expected that to come with some pain, a couple bruises, maybe. Instead, his wrist twists painfully against the ice as he falls, as if he’d tried to catch himself with it, and he can’t help the hiss of pain that comes out when he lands.

“You okay, honey?” he asks you.

“Of course I am. I landed on you, Stevie. Are you okay?”

He tests his wrist out by flexing it, wiggling his fingers, and he tries to hide it but he winces when he does, a sharp pain shooting up his arm. “M’fine.”

“Bullshit, I saw that wince, Harrington.” You manage to get back up on your feet and hold out a hand for him to grab, “Up, I’m taking you to the ER.”

“No, no. I’m good.”

“Steve.”

“Baby.”

“Come on, you don’t want to make it worse, do you?” you urge him. “Plus, I’ll only keep worrying and bugging you about it until you let me take you to the doctor. Your wrist is already swelling, babe.”

Mostly because he doesn’t like the thought of you worrying about him, Steve agrees.

When both of your skates are off (your doing, this time) and given back to the booth, you reach into Steve’s coat pocket and grab the keys to the BMW. He doesn’t protest, and that alone tells you he must be hurting more than he’s letting on. You even manage to open your own door for once.

Steve’s quiet on the drive to the hospital, his hand resting limply on his leg. His brows are furrowed, his eyes squeezing shut every so often when a burst of pain comes. You do your best to avoid any pot holes or bumps along the way.

Once there, you make him sit in one of the waiting room chairs, “I’ll get the check in forms and everything. Stay put, yeah?”

“Your wish is my command,” he says, trying to joke. His voice wobbles a tiny bit, though.

It’s at least an hour of waiting before someone can see him (and that’s including your many pesterings to the front desk). You don’t mean to be a bother, but you’ve never seen Steve injured in any serious capacity, and it’s messing with your head.

He took the weight of that fall to make sure you wouldn’t get hurt. The way he pays attention to things like that is one of the many reasons you love him.

You love him. You haven’t said the words to each other yet, but you’ve felt them for a long time already. It’s hard not to love Steve Harrington.

Finally, the doctor takes him back, and you follow. After an x-ray and some prodding, he determines that it’s a sprained wrist and that he should keep it wrapped for a few weeks to make sure it heals. They give him a prescription for some mild painkillers, too, for the first couple of days.

You breathe a sigh of relief knowing it isn’t broken, but Steve’s shoulders are still slumped.

He’s in pain, sure, his wrist now wrapped up in a tensor bandage, but really he feels defeated at messing yet another thing up. Third strike.

Steve lets you guide him back to the car and drive back to his place. You’ve decided you’re staying the night to take care of him, and as much as he hates looking weak or feeling useless, he’s glad to have you around.

You dote on him back at home, grabbing an ice pack from the freezer after making sure he’s settled on the couch, throwing a frozen pizza in the oven, bringing him meds and water.

“Honey, it’s just a sprain. Please stop fussing and sit with me.”

His brown eyes shine a little, and you could never say no to him when he looks at you like that.

You sit beside him and he drops his head to your shoulder, your hand coming up to play with the strands at the nape of his neck, scratching his scalp gently. His uninjured hand rests on your thigh and squeezes.

“Best painkiller ever,” he says.

-

4.

Steve has convinced himself that nothing could possibly go wrong this time around.

His plans for today involve staying at home, just you and him, no outside forces to deal with or avoid. So much less potential for failure. That’s what he thinks, at least.

Steve knows nearly every piece of you, so, obviously he knows you like to bake. You’d made him a cake for his birthday, and every so often you bring him other treats from home. Naturally, that meant that there was no way he was leaving out Christmas baking.

He’d considered doing gingerbread houses, and then remembered that the last time he tried that in a competition with the kids, his house was nothing more than a messy pile of gingerbread slabs. One with a bite taken out of it.

So, considering his past failures this holiday season, he’d settled on something that he thinks — hopes — is really hard to mess up: sugar cookies.

His mother’s collection of cookbooks had never been used for more than decoration until now. Steve searched through them until he found a recipe, wrote down the ingredients, and bought them at the grocery store to make sure he had everything.

In school, he never did much studying, but he reread the hell out of that recipe in order to get at least this one thing right.

The tensor bandage is still wrapped around his wrist, which is fucking annoying, really. He has to adjust it every day, and it’s hard to do with a single hand. He much prefers when you do it for him, sealing it with a featherlight kiss.

Worse, the thing still hurts, and you refused to let him drive and put more strain on it than necessary, so you took the bus and walked the rest of the way to his house.

He’s got all of the ingredients and tools laid out on the island when you ring the doorbell. “Hurry up, Harrington, it’s freezing!”

Hurry he does. He lets you in and helps you unwrap yourself from your bundle of a scarf and hat and mittens and jacket. Steve dips in to kiss your cheek, your skin cold against his lips. “Wouldn’t have to freeze if you let me come get you.”

“I don’t want you hurting yourself for no reason, I’m fine,” you grab his uninjured hand and kiss the pads of his fingers, “and I like these hands.”

He smiles at your words, smug, “Yeah, I know you do, honey.”

You shake your head at him, but you’re smiling all the same, “I take it back. Your ego is getting too big.”

“Nooo, it’s just the right size,” he winks.

“Don’t you have plans, Steve?” you ask, changing the subject. “Getting a little off track, aren’t we?”

“Later, then,” he says, taking your hand with his good one and leading you to the kitchen.

You pause at the entryway of the kitchen, scanning over the things on the island, two aprons Steve must’ve dug up from somewhere hanging from the knobs of the cabinets.

“Tada,” he says, “we’re making cookies.”

“This might be my favourite one yet, Stevie.” You walk over and grab one of the aprons, leaving the other (a pink floral number) for Steve. “I’m in charge, though.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says, taking the other apron without a complaint. “This is your kitchen today, chef.”

“Mm. That has a nice ring to it.”

“Chef honey,” he says, planting a kiss where your neck meets your shoulder, breath warm even through your shirt.

You get started after that. Predictably, you make a mess with flour on the island and mixing bowls strewn about the surface. You get distracted with a bit of a flour war somewhere in there, Steve smudging it onto your cheek, you onto the tip of his nose.

When it’s time to roll out the dough and cut out the cookies, Steve grabs a handful of cookie cutters from one of the drawers, setting them onto the counter with a small clang. They’re all holiday themed. Candy canes and snowmen and Christmas trees.

“Someone’s prepared,” you say, bumping your hip against his.

“I run a serious establishment here, baby.”

“I thought I was in charge.”

Soon enough, after sneaking bites of raw cookie dough and cutting out as many cookies as you could manage, they’re placed into the oven, the timer set.

You end up in the living room, a random channel playing on the TV while the cookies bake. It starts innocently enough, just sitting next to each other, shoulders and thighs pressed together.

Then, Steve’s good hand wanders, starting above your knee and moving up and up until he’s squeezing the top of your thigh, tracing patterns with his thumb. When he speaks a husky, “Come closer?” how could you ever say no?

So, somehow, you’ve ended up straddling Steve’s lap, his injured hand resting loosely on your waist, the other pressed in between your shoulder blades to keep you close. Yours are in his hair, running through the strands, tugging even.

It grows heated fast, and all of a sudden you’re making out like a pair of teenagers, Steve urging you to press further down in his lap, to writhe there while his mouth works yours until it’s all you can think about. All you can feel.

The room feels warmer, Steve’s jeans tighter over his lap, your chest bumping against his, hearts racing. Even just kissing him feels better than anything you’ve ever had in the past.

He kisses you like he’s starved everytime, sometimes a ravenous hunger, like now, or, when he’s gentler, something tender and soft. A sweet tooth.

The cookies are long forgotten. The timer sounds and nobody hears it. You would keep going forever, if you could. But then there’s the smell that hits your nostrils. The smell of something burning.

“Steve?” you say against his mouth.

“Uh-huh?” he breathes.

“Do you smell that?”

He pulls back, and it’s immediately after you say the words that the alarm goes off, piercing through the air, killing the mood, much to your dismay. Even more to Steve’s.

“Fuck,” he groans.

You’re both rushing to the kitchen then. You, fumbling off his lap, him beating you to the kitchen and frantically taking the baking sheet out of the oven and turning the thing off. You grab a towel from the counter and start fanning beneath the alarm to get it to go off, and when the cookies are dealt with, Steve joins the efforts.

Eventually the thing stops beeping, and you both rest your arms. The room still looks a little cloudy, the cookies black at the edges.

Steve doesn’t say anything, only rests his elbows on the island and slumps his head, defeated.

He’s so frustrated with himself. Not for kissing you. No, he could never be mad at that, but at the outcome of his final attempt at a holiday date going south again.

You frown at him, walking over and placing a hand on his back, rubbing gentle circles. “Steve? You okay?”

“I just- I messed it up again.”

“Hey, I’m as much to blame as you are. It takes two to tango, as they say.”

He huffs a weak laugh, picking his head up and twisting to look at you. Your pretty face, eyes nothing but kind. Fuck, he loves you, and he just wanted to show you that. To make Christmas as magical as it's supposed to be.

“I really wanted it to go well, you know?”

You realize then that he’s not only talking about today. That he’s been putting this pressure on himself all month to make plans and something has happened every time. You don’t blame him for that, if anything, it makes your heart ache with adoration.

“Steve, it doesn’t matter to me. Things happen, it’s okay,” you kiss his bicep lightly. “I’d rather things go a bit wrong with you than to have them go right with someone else. You are the best part.”

“I-” love you, he almost says. But he doesn’t want the first time to be like this, in a room that still stinks. “You’re the best part for me too, honey.”

You decide that next time, it’s your turn to do something for him.

-

+1

Steve comes home from work on Christmas Eve, eyes tired and feet hurting despite having worn relatively comfortable shoes today.

He’d tried to get the day off, tried to be able to spend it with you in bed for hours and hours and not getting up until the afternoon. Keith had other plans for him.

He even tried to dramatize his wrist injury. Still, he was forced to go in.

Walking up the driveway, Steve sees the glow of lights inside filtering through the curtains. He’s fairly certain he hadn’t left any on, but he also knows he’s often wrong about these things, so he shrugs it off and goes inside.

There’s noise coming from the living room. Crackling of the fireplace that he barely ever uses, music playing quietly, and then he hears you humming along.

“Honey?”

“Yup, it’s me!”

You know where the spare key is, Steve’s the one who told you the information and encouraged you to use it, but you’ve often been too nervous to do so. Not today, it seems.

While Steve was at work, you’d set up your plan for him.

He follows the sound of your voice without much of a thought, a moth drawn to a flame. When he turns into the living room, he stills.

There are strings of warm white Christmas lights hung about, the fireplace is actually housing a fire, and in front of it is a fort made up of red and green and white blankets and pillows. Some plaid, some with snowflakes, all Christmas themed.

“Did you do all of this?” he asks, walking slowly to where you stand by the fort.

“Figured it was my turn to organize a date, don’t you think?”

“Baby. This is all really sweet, but wha-”

You cut him off, “Uh-uh. Let me explain.” You reach for Steve’s hands, and he meets you in the middle willingly. Suddenly nervous, you shift your weight on your feet. “I thought we could do presents a little early.”

His brows scrunch, “But Christmas is tomorrow.”

“Please?” you ask, squeezing his hands once.

And, really, Steve would never say no to you. Especially not when you’re saying ‘please’ all sweet and delicate like that.

“Okay,” he says. “Yours is in my room. I’ll go grab it. And change; I smell like Family Video.”

“‘Kay, Stevie.”

You kiss his cheek before he goes for good measure.

Steve is confused the entire time, wondering what it could be that you’re up to, but he does as he said he would. You’d been wearing a set of pyjamas (one he loves on you; a soft baby blue pair of shorts with a matching sweater), so he goes for one of his pairs of plaid pants and a plain t shirt before grabbing your messily wrapped gift bag from where he’d hidden it under his bed.

Back in the living room, he finds you now settled on the ground of the fort, which you’d lined with fuzzy blankets and the biggest of the pillows. His gift is sat beside you, a gift box wrapped in a lovely bow. Your skills of wrapping bouquets are transferable, he’s learned.

He joins you, sitting across from you, but close enough that your legs tangle and knees bump.

“You go first,” you tell him.

“Okay,” he scratches the back of his neck, handing you the gift bag. “Let me explain it before you say anything.”

That grabs your attention, but your plans aren’t about his present to you, really, and you know you’ll love it no matter what because Steve knows you better than anyone.

You lift out tissue paper first, uncovering multiple different things inside the bag, also wrapped. It pieces together as you go. A toothbrush, toothpaste, a hairbrush, your entire skincare routine, a couple of pyjama and underwear sets.

“It’s so you don’t have to bring an overnight bag every time you stay over now. I, um, cleared out a couple of drawers in my dresser and the bathroom.”

“Steve,” you look at him, heart squeezing. It’s so thoughtful, so him, and you surge forward you wrap your arms around his neck and breathe into his skin, “I love it. Thank you. It’s perfect.”

Perfect.

“You really think so?”

“Of course I do,” you sit back into your spot. “You know I hate carrying things.”

“I never let you carry anything, honey.”

“Exactly,” you nod. Now, you hold out his gift for him to take, “Your turn.”

You watch Steve’s hands as he tugs the bow undone, then lifts the lid of the box.

Nestled inside are four delicate ornaments. A Christmas tree, a snowman, an ice skate, and a plate of cookies. One for every date he’d planned for you.

Steve frowns at them, not because he doesn’t like them, but because he doesn’t quite understand where you’re going with this.

“I thought it was time we started collecting our own ornaments. For our place, one day,” you tell him.

“They’re lovely, but honey you- you really wanna remember these things?“ he shakes his head, more at himself than you. “I messed ‘em all up.”

“There’s one more thing in there,” you say quietly.

The thing you're nervous about. A thing you’ve never said out loud before.

Steve finds it beneath one of the ornaments, a small piece of paper folded up. When he opens that, his heart stutters in his chest. Written in your handwriting are three words: I love you.

He blinks away from the paper to look at you, though his thumb continues to trace the words absentmindedly. “Honey-”

“I love you, Steve. Okay?” You shift closer, kneeling at his side, your hands coming up to frame his jaw, your fingers kind against his skin. “I don’t care that things didn’t go how you planned. I mean, I would rather you didn’t require an ER visit, but the point is that I don’t need things to be perfect. And I know you’ve been hard on yourself trying to make them so.”

He lets go of the paper and reaches up to grasp your wrists, his thumb finding your racing pulse. His uninjured hand holds on tighter than the other.

“Thank you for trying for me,” you continue, “for caring. But no matter what happens, things are perfect for me. Because I get to do them with you. Got that, Harrington? You’re perfect, and I love you, and-”

He shuts you up with a kiss. It’s a simple but firm press of his lips against yours, but it says enough.

“I fucking love you too, honey,” he says, his forehead against yours, lips only a breath apart. “You saying all of that it means — you mean a lot to me.”

“Yeah, well, I meant it.”

“I know you did,” he nods. Steve pulls back the tiniest bit to be able to see your face fully, his sweet brown eyes locked on yours. “I wanted our first Christmas to be perfect, and I didn’t wanna let you down, but you’re right. They were perfect, because you’re here. And I love you for bein’ here.”

“As long as you’ll have me,” you say. You push his hair off his forehead before letting go of his face and sitting back, “Why don’t you give those ornaments a try?”

“On those trees?” he asks, eyebrows lifted, voice joking.

“Steve.”

”Okay, okay.”

He picks up the skate first. Surprising, considering that one had ended in a physical injury for him, but you say nothing and watch him walk over to your little trees by the window. You join him, sitting on the arm of the couch nearby while he scans over the tree.

“Pick a spot, handsome,” you encourage. “There’s really no wrong answer here.”

He goes to hang the first ornament, hand wavering before setting on a branch.

“Well, maybe not-” Steve tackles you onto the couch before you can finish. You dissolve into giggles as he pokes at your ribs, his head on your chest.

Steve’s done keeping score.

Perfect Christmas. That’s it.

⁺̇◍̇̇̇⁺̇̇̇⊛̇̇̇̇⁺̇̇̇◍̇̇̇⁺̇

thank you so much for reading!! if you enjoyed please please consider leaving a comment and/or a reblog and letting me know what you thought! it would mean a bunch of<3

[writingsbychlo]

DECK THE HALLS | DRACO MALFOY

SUMMARY: Narcissa has big plans for her son's girlfriend this time of year, and you're determined to live up to her expectations. WORD COUNT: 7680 NOTES: The first fic of this year's Christmas series, and I think you guys will really love it! It's cute, it's sweet, and it's just the right amount of sassy-Draco.

The moment you sank into the seat beside him, Draco pushed a cup of your favourite herbal tea across to you, his lips brushing your cheek as he whispered a sleepy greeting. Opposite you, Mattheo was half-asleep above his bowl of cereal, his head tipping forward precariously — and a slight thrill shot through you at the idea of him dropping face-first into the milky bowl. 

“You’re evil for choosing a six am lecture, do you know that? And they think Matt’s father is the darkest wizard there is.” Daphne groaned as she shuffled into the kitchenette of your small, shared flat in her bunny-eared muggle slippers. Chancing a glance at Draco, you didn’t miss the disgraced twist to his lips as he eyed them. Just like always. 

“Nobody forced you to get up at this time, y’know.” You teased, blowing the steam away from your mug, and Mattheo’s head lulled forward just far enough to fall when the toast popped. He jerked his head back up, only inches from getting a face-full of milk and rice crispies, and you pouted in disappointment as he blinked himself back awake, and scooped some more into his mouth, chewing obnoxiously. “Why do you get up at this time every day?”

“Because Dray makes us all breakfast if we do!” Daphne chirped, adjusting far better to the early rise than your other roommate, who would be cranky until noon, even without face-planting his crackling snack. 

“Correction, I make my girlfriend breakfast, and you two just pilfer food that isn’t yours.” He snarked, buttering the toast, and kissing the top of your head a moment later as he placed it down in front of you. Moments later, a teapot, jam, a plate of only slightly too-crispy bacon and hashbrowns floated over too, laying themselves out on the table along with plates and cutlery. 

Since his insistence on moving into his own accommodation at the start of university, Draco had been practising his cooking skills. After setting off the fire alarms every day for the first two weeks and screaming every insult under the sun at the beeping box on the ceiling, he’d started to become quite adept at it. 

A harmony settled across the table as you all tucked into your food, only the scrape of butter on toast and the occasional squeak of metal on pottery sounded, the tea in your mug sinking dwindling as the clock on the wall ticked on. Finally, when it was time to leave, you floated all the dishes to the sink, and let Draco trail you to the door of your cramped apartment. Wrapping a thick scarf around your neck, he used it to pull you in for a kiss, smiling against your lips when you grumbled;

“I have to go, Dray.”

“I know.” He mused, licking across your lower lip in that same way that always made your legs tremble a little. 

“Stop it.”

“I’m not doing anything.” Your boyfriend teased, his hands sneaking around your waist to pull you in close. Your hand, that had been reaching for your coat, somehow found itself tangling into those soft blonde strands instead. 

“I’m going to be late.” Your murmur was swallowed by his mouth closing over your own, a wider kiss, covering your mouth and you sagged into him. He was practically radiating smugness, the squeeze of his arms around you, the arrogance in his breathy chuckle. “Dray…”

“Mmmh?”

“I—”

A tapping at the window cut you off, and Draco pulled back with an indignant sound, whipping his head around to look at the window. He sighed with agitation, “Do you think my mother simply does not care that our apartment building is Muggle, or does she still think Muggles use carrier pigeons?” 

You smothered a laugh as he made his way over to the window, taking a little more effort to open it as ice frosted the seals closed, but when he finally did, the tawny brown owl acknowledged him with a rather irritated hoot. The moment Draco had taken the letter, it was stretching its wings, flapping again and taking off into the murky dawn light. 

Tugging on your coat as he closed the window back up and shuddered, you shouldered your bag. Upon seeing your progress towards leaving, and another morning of failing to hinder your departure, Draco pouted. His attention turned to the letter in his hands as you opened the front door. “It’s for you.”

“What?”

“My mother, she sent the letter to you. Do you want me to leave it on your—”

“Give it here!” You squeaked, lunging for the letter, and letting the door fall back shut as you snatched it from his hands. Just like he said, elegantly scrawled across the front in Narcissa’s handwriting was your name, and a flush of nervous heat flooded your body. Suddenly, despite the ice and snow outside, you were wearing too many layers. 

“I thought you had to leave?”

“It’s a letter from your mother! I can’t leave this until later!” Turning it over and running a shaky finger under the seal with the Malfoy signet, you popped it open, the envelope falling open into a folded parchment with the same lovely handwriting contained inside.

Scanning your eyes over the words, seconds seemed to drag on into endless minutes, as you read it again and again. At last, you clutched the letter to your chest, peering up at your confused boyfriend with wide eyes. “So, what did she say?”

“She wants me to plan the annual Christmas Eve party this year.”

Your breathing was light and shallow as you sat inside the restaurant, smoothing down floo-rumpled hair that had taken Daphne almost an hour to style for you. Your dress was new, courtesy of a panicky shopping trip with Draco after insisting you had nothing appropriate to wear to eat dinner with his mother. Your lipstick was the perfect shade and you’d made sure your perfume was just on the right side of decorous, not the sultry date night scent you typically wore to places like this. 

And still, despite all your preparations, your hand trembled as you picked up your water glass and brought it to your lips. 

And then, the green flames at the front of the restaurant flashed once again, and out stepped Narcissa Malfoy. Sophistication incarnate, she smoothed her hand down the front of her dress, one that made your own feel like a burlap sack. Several members of staff flooded to her side before she’d even finished stepping down from the line of fireplaces, and she smiled politely as she handed over her coat. Inquisitive gaze flicking over the room, that smile became genuine as she set her sights on you sitting at the table already, and she walked through the room like she owned it as she made her way to you. 

Standing as she approached, she let out a regal scoff —how she managed to make a scoff sound so posh was beyond you— and waved a hand in the air. “No need for formalities, dear. Sit, please.”

She kissed both of your cheeks, before pointing to your chair, and you sank into it as she settled into hers. “It’s so lovely to see you, Narcissa. I was surprised you wanted to see me, alone. Draco is—”

“Draco is probably pacing in that little apartment you both live in that he insists upon. Why he forces you to live there when he could have much nicer accommodations is beyond me.”

“It’s a nice apartment. We bought some lovely throw blankets.” Hiding your smile in your glass, your laugh at her expression bubbled your water, and heat rushed to your cheeks as you lowered it and patted at your lip. “I’m so sorry.”

The woman before you only chuckled privately and raised her hand to a waiter. The young man hurried over, cracking open a bottle of white wine without even having to be told, and Narcissa smiled at your confusion. “I have the same wine every time I come, this quaint little place is a favourite of mine. Did you know Lucius attended this same university when he was your age?”

You tried not to hang on the word quaint, thanking the waiter as he poured you a glass too, before hurrying from the table once again. Instead, you moved on to something else, “Which university did you attend, Mrs Malfoy?”

“Oh, no. I didn’t attend university, dear. In my day, a woman was never supposed to be more intelligent than her husband. Educated, of course, but not too smart.” A fond look passed over her features, “Though, Lucius has never seemed to mind. I have read enough to possess multiple degrees by now, he is not intimidated by my curiosity for knowledge. It is one of the reasons I love my husband. But, enough about me.”

Your breathing hitched as her eyes sharpened on you once again. She toyed with the bracelet on her wrist and plucked off a small charm. Placing it on the table, with a single muttered incantation, a gorgeous, pure-leather briefcase with her initials embedded on the side in gold, filled the available space. The clasps popped open, and she peered at you over the lid. 

“Let’s skip the small talk, shall we, dear? We have much to discuss. You know what you’d like to eat, I presume?”

You did not, in fact, know what you wanted, but you nodded regardless, and picked the first thing from the menu that came to mind. When your order was given, Narcissa placed a delicate pair of reading glasses onto her nose and began to pull out papers and folders to stack beside her wine glass. 

“You shall host the Christmas Eve party this year, but despite it being loosely called a ‘party’, it is so much more. It is a social event, a business event, and one of the most desired gatherings of the year. It is exclusive, thousands of wizards globally vie for a spot on this guest list and most are disappointed year in and year out. It must be spectacular, splendid, and unique. Repeated themes are the death of any social event, as I’m sure you know.” Peering over the rim of her glasses at you, she raised a manicured eyebrow inquisitorially. “Are you taking notes?”

With a jump, you reached for your far less elegantly-stored bag on the back of your chair, and rooted through for your notebook and QuickQuill, setting it to work atop the table as she continued to speak. 

“I have brought my records for the last ten years, and a list of the themes dating back the last thirty, in order to help you. I have also included a copy of any and all documents I typically use, to help you out a little. Nobody helped me when I first began. Merlin, Lucius’ mother hated me until the wonderful day the old hag died, she wanted to see me fail. I do not want to see you fail.” She looked up as the scribbling of the quill on your paper stopped at her small rant. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I, uhh, I—” You stumbled over your words, clearing your throat as she closed the briefcase and linked her hands, setting them upon the tabletop with poise as she waited, “I’m just wondering why?”

“Why?” She sniffed, pushing her glasses further up her nose and raising one brow into a high arch. “Why what?”

“Why you’re giving this to me? It’s an honour, truly, but I’m just wondering why you would put something so important, your family’s name, into my hands?”

At that, Narcissa’s lips turned up into a fond smile, and her head tipped to the side. “My son loves you.”

After a moment’s pause, you nodded, throat feeling thick. “He does.”

“I am happy for him. He adores you, as he should. You are a wonderful girl, my dear. I do not want you to have the harsh break into this world that I did. I thought I had been prepared to become a wife, I was an heir of a Sacred Twenty-Eight family, but a union between the most noble House of Black and the most powerful House of Malfoy created something else entirely. You, you are clearly Draco’s one. The men in this family love wholly, powerfully, and obsessively. You will be a Malfoy one day, and I wish for you to be ready. I wish to guide you in a way nobody guided me.”

Words froze in your throat, and tears prickled behind your eyes are her words. “You really think that? You think Draco will marry me one day?”

“I’d be surprised if he wasn’t already thinking about it. He is, at the end of the day, still a high-society boy raised to find a suitable wife.” She left her statement short and succinct, and you sniffed lightly to hold back your feelings. “Do not cry.”

“Sorry, I—”

“I mean it. Do not start crying. We have work to do.” 

You nodded, but then she smiled fondly, and a small and emotional squeak escaped you.

The number of notes Narcissa had given you at dinner alone had required their own folder entirely to properly organise. So this morning, you’d braved yourself on a journey out in the ice and snow to a local stationary store to pick up two more. Surrounded by open folders, QuickQuills, and some coloured tabs and inky pens deemed highlighters that you’d noticed some Muggle girls picking up, you had set to work hours ago. 

Your neck ached, your back was sore, and two of your QuickQuills had broken while the notepad in your lap had more pages torn out in frustration than actually had useful ideas and notes. 

That, and Draco had been needy since the moment he’d gotten home, laying himself out dramatically on the floor in front of you and trading refills on your tea for kisses. Some time ago, he’d convinced you to take a break for dinner and to do your homework together at the table. 

Now, the sun had set, Mattheo had long since returned from his part-time job at the record store, and Daphne had come back from her weekend study group, gotten ready, and gone back out for a date, and you still felt like you hadn't quite done enough. If the stress of party planning didn’t kill you, it was certainly going to cripple you. 

Stretching your arms over your head from where you perched before the coffee table, you pushed your legs out into any space available. As you did, a relieved groan slipped free at the delicious pain of tight muscles unfurling in your back. Draco cupped your chin, tipping your head back to drop a kiss onto your lips as he passed by to go to the kitchen, leaving his book marked and closed on the side of the couch. 

You listened to him make another cup of tea, rubbing blurry eyes and attempting to focus once again. Just before you could re-enter the zone, tapping on glass broke your focus, and you heard Draco sigh. Cracking open a window, he retrieved whatever had been sent, feeding the bird a few treats before sending it on its way again and closing out the cold chill of the December night. 

He appeared moments later, his black and white Christmas-themed socks filling your peripherals. 

“Another letter for you, from my mother.” Draco drawled, passing the envelope to you as you glanced up from your folders. He waved it before your face, and you snatched it with a scowl, adding in a glare for emphasis when he only laughed. “You know, she writes to you more than she writes to me these days.”

“Yes, well, we complain to one another about the terrors of you Malfoy men and how we’re supposed to put up with you.” Your words were muttered amid distraction, skimming your gaze over the letter in your hands and frowning. “Word has already gotten out about this party, and now the Prophet wants to run an article on it.”

Your voice climbed higher and higher as you spoke, until your boyfriend winced at the shrill tone you had taken on. “I wouldn't worry too much about that.”

“Wouldn’t worry— it’s the party, Draco! And now the media wants a piece! If it’s a failure, the entire Wizarding World is going to know about it by eight the following morning!”

“More like six, if they hurry it though printing—”

“Draco!”

He rolled his eyes, flopping ungracefully down onto the couch and stretching his body long out on it. Holding his arms open, you collapsed into them with a whine, and he kissed your forehead as he wrapped you into a tight embrace. With the letter crumpled between you both, you pressed your face into his neck, taking in a deep breath of his cologne and letting it calm you slightly. 

“You’ll still love me even if I throw the worst party ever, right?”

“Yes, I’ll still love you!” He spoke through peels of sudden laughter, and the shake of his chest underneath you brought a smile to your face. Propping yourself up to peer down at him, he puckered his lips, a request for a kiss that you eagerly indulged. “And I meant it. This isn’t personal to you, this is just Skeeter trying to push a new weak point. I don’t even think she knows you’re the host yet, she does this every year. She tries to wrangle her way into an invitation through her job, and every year, my mother sneers at her letters and burns them.”

“Really?”

“Yes, my love.” Rubbing his hands up and down your back, Draco leaned up to press another loving, lingering kiss to your forehead. “Now, can you please put those folders away for the night? We haven’t set up our Christmas tree yet, and you haven’t given me proper cuddles all day.”

“Just five more minutes?” You bargained, and his lips tightened with annoyance for a fraction of a second. 

“Only as long as it takes me to make two hot chocolates.”

“Deal.”

“Hi, baby.” You whispered, leaning against the doorframe. Draco peered up at you from over the top of his reading glasses, folding his book silently and placing it down on the bedside table. He laced his fingers together, resting his hands across his stomach, and waited. “Whatcha’ reading?” 

“A thousand and one ways to ruin your girlfriend’s Christmas party.” He deadpanned, and your smile fell, arms crossing over your chest. Straightening up and stepping into the room a little more, Draco smirked at the glare you gave him. 

“If you would just help me out a little—”

“You’ve yet to apologise for what you said earlier.” He crosses his ankles casually, lounging on the bed. 

“Yes, well, earlier was—”

“That’s not how apologies start.” Draco chastised, clicking his tongue. With a strangled sigh, and a slightly childish stomp of your foot, you caved. Ignoring the urge to ask him what he knew about good apologies, you instead made your way closer to the side of the bed. As you approached, he reached out, wrapping his arm around the backs of your legs and looking up at you, waiting. 

“I’m sorry for shouting at you and calling you a bad boyfriend when you messed with my sticky notes. It really wasn’t that deep.” Your words were begrudging, certainly holding an underlying bitterness to them that wasn’t hidden, but Draco grinned nonetheless. “I’m just really stressed out.”

“You’re putting too much thought into this, darling. You need to relax. It’s just a party.”

“It’s not just a party! Do you realise that these people will—” Will be our wedding guests one day? Will be the people who pass judgment on my suitability to be your wife someday? Will remember this social event for the rest of their lives? It all sounded too shallow to say out loud, but somehow, it still meant something to you. “Will be so disappointed if it’s not good.”

Your boyfriend’s brows furrowed, he knew there was more you weren’t saying, but he didn’t push. Instead, he wrapped his arms more securely around you, tugging you down onto the bed, and you squealed as he rolled you over, your back in the blankets and his lips closing over your own in a slow kiss. 

Your fingers laced into his hair, nails dragging over his scalp and he hummed happily, lips pressing more insistently into your own. Every tug and drag, every beat of his heart onto his chest pressed to yours, helped to settle the raging nerves that were sending tremors through your body. 

“I know you don’t think it, love, but it’s going to be fantastic. You needn’t be so worried.”

Smoothing your hands along his cheeks, you unhooked his glasses, folding them away with a sweet kiss to his nose. Putting them down on top of his forgotten book, you decided to try your luck one more time. “Does this mean you’ll help me? Because I could really use a second opinion on—”

“Nuh-uh. My mother entrusted you with this job. And I know why.” 

At your gasp, he smirked. “You do?”

“Of course, I do. This party is a tradition for generations of Malfoy women, so if you’re going to be a Malfoy woman, you’d better learn now.” At your scoff, he pressed a kiss to your lips, chuckling when you puckered and attempted to steal more. 

“If you don’t help me, then you’d better find a new future woman.”

“Shan’t. Can’t. I’ve already chosen you, and the men never party plan. We’re terrible at it. Just ask my mother about when my father suggested a Weasley-orange banner for—”

“Alright, alright!” Your arms flung around his neck, pulling him in for more kisses, and leaving the conversation behind. For a little while, you were perfectly willing to let Draco help you forget your stresses. 

“My darling, what are you doing?” Draco’s groggy voice split the silence of the room, and you blinked as you refocused on him. Pyjamas pants low on his hips and no shirt, a spattering of pale hair trailing down his lower stomach and disappearing into his waistband… Some absent part of your exhausted brain sparked with excitement at the sight of him. “It’s two o’clock in the morning.”

“What? No, it’s not. I said I’d come to bed at—”

“At midnight?” Draco yawned, covering his mouth with one hand and pointing at the clock with the other. True to his word, it was actually past two, and a sigh slipped out. 

“Oh.” 

“Mhm.” Draco shuffled across the room, standing behind you and running his fingers through your hair. “This is what we’re doing now? We’re staying up all night?”

“No, no. I’ll pack away and come to bed now.” Stacking up your papers, you turned to look up at him with a smile. “I did it.”

“You did it?”

“Yes. I have officially finished the whole of my planning stage. Now, I just have to… y’know, actually put everything together and pull it off and hope it’s a success and—” His brows raised, and you took a deep breath, remembering all the steadying words he’d muttered to you over the last few weeks. “I’ll just put all this away, and come to bed, okay?”

“Okay. I’ll wait up for you.” Draco promised, dipping to press a kiss to the crown of your head.

He padded away silently through the room, and as you scooped up a pile of papers, they slipped out of your sleep-trembling hands, spilling across the floor. “Oh, crap.”

“Alright, that’s enough.” He grumbled, returning across the room and leaning down, smacking the papers out of your hands where you attempted to clear them up. Dipping down, he hooked an arm underneath your legs, lifting you swiftly up into the air and cradling you to his chest. “They’ll still be there in the morning. Sleep, now.”

An argument sat on the tip of your tongue, but he was right, and the moment your cheek touched his shoulder and your eyes slipped closed, you knew it too. You were half asleep before he’d even reached the bedroom, dropping you both onto the mattress, still warm from his body, and cradling you to his chest. A sweet kiss and a deep rumble in your ear were the last things you recalled, before curling into his chest and falling asleep. 

Shaking out your hand, you whimpered a little at the pain taking over. “I’m going to end up with my hand locking in this shape.” 

Daphne glared at you from across the table, clearly still unhappy about the fact that two hours ago you’d managed to rope her into helping you with this job as well. Your eyes were blurring, your hand was cramping, and you were still only halfway through writing out the invitations. You’d put Daphne on folder organisation, her voice was hoarse from reading out addresses, and creating a filing system for RSVP’s and replies for your records. 

If you had to hear any more dietary requirements, special requests, or seating demands, you were going to lose your mind. Only a few more envelopes had been completed, joining the pile of ones still waiting to be sealed with wax and sent on their way, before a shooting pain shot up your arm as cramps set in. 

Dropping the quill in your hand and messing up the letter before you, you cursed at the smeared ink. Rubbing your palm and digging your thumb into the tense muscles, you conceded that now was most definitely the time to take a break. 

Swaggering into the room, Mattheo peered over at the mess that had become the shared kitchen table, his brows shooting up his forehead. “You two look busy.”

“I’m being held against my will,” Daphne muttered, tucking away the pages into the folder and beginning to pack away, despite your protests. 

“You want some help?” Mattheo offered, and your gaze snapped to him.

“Oh, Matty, that’s so sweet…” Your lips pressed together, wincing a little bit as he eyed all of the stationary and neatly-arranged piles on the table. “It’s just…”

“Your handwriting is shocking and your organisational skills are even worse.” Daphne put bluntly, and you hid a laugh at the sulky expression on his face, even if he knew it was true. “Besides, don’t you have a date tonight?”

“Well, yes.” He spun to give you both his back as his cheeks flushed pink, opening and closing random drawers in an attempt to look busy. 

You gave an excited squeal as Daphne smirked at his bashfulness. “Is it with—”

“Yes!” He huffed, the tips of his ears now turning red too.

“You really like this girl, huh? You never see the same girl twice, and this is, what, your fourth date?” Your teasing made him relent, and he at last turned around. He was picking nervously at the sweater he must’ve bought just for this occasion, as you’d never seen it before. 

“Fifth, actually. We, uhh, bumped into each other last week after class and went for some impromptu coffee, and…” He scratched the back of his neck, a sweet smile taking over. “Do I look okay?”

“You look lovely, Mattheo.” Standing up, you fixed his collar for him, brushing off the shoulders of his sweater, and he preened into your touch. “Oh, wow, Daph. You have to come and see this. Is this… what I think it is?”

“What?” Mattheo panicked, turning his head to his shoulder as you rubbed the fabric between your fingers. Turning him around, he attempted to peer over his shoulder as you turned the inside of his collar out. “What is it?”

“It doesn’t say it on the label, but…”

“You know, I think you’re right,” Daphne said, feeling the fabric stretched across his shoulders. “No, no, it definitely is.”

“What? I don’t have time to change! My jumper is what?” Mattheo gasped anxiously.

“Boyfriend material.” You said, very seriously, and it took a moment for the fear to melt out of his eyes and be replaced by annoyance. 

“Oh, fuck off.” Mattheo pushed you both away from him, scowling as your laughter filled the room, and the pair of you made your way back over to the table. “You two are the worst.”

“You love us.”

“I don’t know why.” He mumbled, glancing at the clock, even as his cheeks stretched into a smile. “I have to go soon. But how about I make you both a snack before I do? I can at least make a good sandwich.”

“That’s… everything.” You mumble, staring in awe at the two —almost three, filled folders of notes, invitations, floor plans and more. “I can’t believe that’s it.”

“It is?” Draco asked, through a mouthful of fried rice as he fixated on the screen. Since Mattheo’s introduction of a Muggle television into the flat, Draco had been hooked on a ‘sitcom’ a half-blood in one of his classes had introduced him to. He had written to Theo three times this week alone to update him on ‘Ross and Rachel’. Theo had given up replying last week.

“Yes. Everything, it’s all done.”

“Mhm.”

“Draco!” You snapped, and he paused the show, wide eyes moving to you as he stared innocently. “I’m done.”

It took him a moment to process before his face split into a wide grin. “You finished the party planning?”

“I did!” He put down his container of food as you dove across the couch to cup his cheeks, smacking giggly kisses onto his mouth as you took him down into the cushions with you. Large hands gripped your waist, a smile on his face as he chuckled by your ear.

“So, does this mean I get my girlfriend back, at last?”

“Yes, I suppose.” You rolled your eyes through a smile, flattening yourself out against him on the couch, content to melt into his body as he pressed play on the show. He picked up a new box, hand-feeding you dumplings in turns as the episode played on, and you chuckled between jokes and comedic pauses as you finally allowed yourself to unwind. 

“Don’t you think Pansy is just like Monica?” Draco asked after a while, wincing as you screeched a laugh beside his ear at the impromptu comparison. “The need to control, that inherently irritating early-morning mentality, looking shockingly good in red—”

You pinched his side, just over his ribs, and he yelped but did not continue comparing how good other women looked in red. After a second or two of deliberation, you added, “Tom is Ross.”

“What? No. Tom is Chandler! Tom is smart and ridiculously awkward and incapable of talking to women!” Draco argued, and you sat up in his lap, shaking your head. 

“No! No. Tom is Ross, the complete obsession with one specific thing and also being a massive control freak, plus, the commitment! He was adorably committed to Carol, and Rachel, bar that whole cheating moment—”

“They were on a break—” You pressed your finger over Draco’s lips to silence him. 

“Anyway, I can totally see Tom accidentally getting someone knocked up, and also, you have to save Joey and Chandler for Theo and Matty!”

Draco mulled it over, “Okay. I’ll give you that.”

He pulled you back down onto his chest, and you snuggled in. Between the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree and the dulled tones of the easy-going TV show to send you off into a hazy place, with Draco’s fingers smoothing up and down your back. 

“You look perfect.” You smiled, hands clasped under your chin as you looked at Draco in his newly fitted dress robes. This was the first time he was seeing them, the look on his face unreadable as he took in the design, fit and patterns, but you thought it was just right. “Do you like it?”

Draco looked at himself in the mirror again, straightening out the sleeves and buttoning the rather modern front, tucking one hand into a pocket. At last, he turned to you and smiled. “Well, it’s nothing like what my mother normally makes me wear, but I love it. Are you finally going to tell me the theme?”

“No! You said you didn’t want to give any opinions, so now, it’s a surprise! Nobody knows, except me!” Smoothing your hands over his shoulders and down his arms, you admired the pretty picture he painted before you, even in the dim light of your bedroom so late at night. “I have a couple of handkerchief options for your pocket, and I was thinking we could pin a sprig of holly onto your—”

Your words died in your throat in a sudden rush as a thought crossed your mind, and Draco waited, brow furrowing the longer you remained silent. “What’s wrong, you don’t like it?”

“I forgot a dress.” You whispered to yourself, shock draining from your body as realisation set in. “I got so caught up with everything else that I never ordered a dress! It’s next week, Draco! How am I supposed to find something by then, between classes and—”

“You’re okay.”

“No, this is so not okay!”

“Darling, breathe.” Draco cupped your face, kissing your lips quietly, “I have something for you.”

Opening up the wardrobe dedicated to his clothes, Draco pulled out a garment bag. Embroidered on the front in sparkling gold was the name of his family tailor, and he hooked it onto the front of the door. Unzipping it slowly, beautiful waves of green silk and jewels filled your vision, a sparkling corset and a flowing skirt that spilled out of the bag the moment it was open. 

“I noticed a few days ago that you’d ordered me new robes, but not a dress for yourself. I asked my mother and Daphne, and you hadn't planned anything with either of them. So, I ordered you something.”

“Oh, Dray…” You whispered, stepping closer to admire the dress. Your fingers hovered just over the top of it, and Draco carefully lifted it out, laying it over his arm for you to better admire. “It’s perfect. How in Merlin’s name did you know?”

“Well, red, green and gold were some of the specified colours on the invitations, and I knew damn well you weren’t going to dare dress me in red, so green it was. Plus, I mentioned to my tailor that I needed a dress for you that matched whatever secret outfit you had planned for me.” He shrugged, like it was no big deal, and your cheeks flushed as you looked between him and the dress. “Do you like it?”

“I love it.”

“Good, because I already picked up some jewellery for you too.” You quirked a brow, smirking at him as he rolled his eyes. “Can’t have you pulling the same nonsense you did last year, so I fetched a couple of items from the vault.”

“Can I see?”

“No. It’s a surprise. Unless, of course, there’s anything you want to tell me?” He bargained, and your jaw dropped at his audacity, shaking your head. 

“I love you?”

“Hm. No. But I love you too.” Kissing the tip of your nose, he held the dress up for you. “Try this on, I want to see you in it, and see us both side by side.” 

Taking it from his hands, the soft material slipped through your fingers and floated like clouds as you held it up. “Draco, I…”

Words died in your throat, unable to properly convey just how much this meant to you. Despite his refusal to get involved with the ridiculously stressful planning of the party, Draco had made sure to dote on you and take care of you all the way through. He seemed to see right through you, his expression softening as he leaned down to press his forehead to yours. “Hey. You take care of everyone else, and I’ll take care of you.”

Straightening out Draco’s collar for the eighth time, you huffed anxiously when he batted away your hands. “Darling, my robes are fine. Tug on them anymore and you’re going to crease them.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just so nervous.”

“Don’t be. You planned a perfect party, and you worked so hard. Let yourself enjoy it now.” Draco took both of your hands in his as he chuckled, kissing your knuckles as you conceded to his point. He was right, this ridiculous batch of nerves was far more out of a need to impress his mother than it was to impress anyone else on that invitation list, but you couldn't shake the buzz of trepidation in your veins. “Let me distract you.”

“Distract me?”

“Yes. Let me distract you.” Draco grinned, tipping your chin up with a finger underneath your jaw, and dipping his head down. His lips encased your own, a soft sound of pleasure bubbling from inside you as the taste of mint and lingering wine from his drinks with Theo spread to your tongue. Two large hands wrapped around your waist, settling on your lower back. He tugged you closer to him again, until you were crushed to his chest, no doubt wrinkling his robes, as your arms looped around his neck. 

With every crush of his mouth against your own, your worries slipped further from you, letting the proximity and adoration of your boyfriend settle the unease brewing within you. Something cold brushed against your collarbones, the dipped neckline of the dress Draco had chosen for you showed goosebumps in its wake, and you pulled back with a gasp at a tug on your earlobe. 

You raised your hand, a simple but elegant charmed bracelet was wrapping itself around your wrist, as your fingers brushed your sternum to feel the pendant of a necklace perfectly setting itself on your chest. In your ears, a string of diamonds now swung lightly from each one, completing your look at last. 

“Perfect. Now you’re properly adorned, as Malfoy woman should be.”

“Don’t tell me this necklace is your family crest like a brand.” You teased, pinching it between your thumb and forefinger, but only the precise cuts of a perfectly-carved gem were felt beneath your finger pads, not a name or brand to be found. 

“Well, I was tempted, but no. I went a little subtler, instead, I chose a very recognisable piece from the Malfoy public collections.”

His smirk made a flush rush to your cheeks, but you didn’t have time to address it before one of the Manor’s house elves popped into the empty space before you, curling a finger around its ear as it bobbed excitedly where it stood. “Misses first guests be arriving, the floo has been opened and the guest’s carriages be coming through the gates. Does miss or sirs be needing anything else, or should Fip be starting pouring the drinks?”

“Pouring drinks would be excellent, thank you, Fip.” Draco murmured, sending the elf away with one final pat on your back as he stepped away, Draco smoothed a hand down the front of his robes. With the mere wave of a hand, the large wooden doors separating you both from the grand hall began to creak open, and Draco offered you an arm. “Shall we greet our guests, my love? I’m rather excited to see your party theme at last.”

You slid your arm through his, taking one more bracing deep breath, before at last turning to see the culmination of all your hard work. 

As the doors parted further, you were left breathless at the sight of the room before you. It had been transformed, from something you’d seen so many times before in so many luxurious visions, to the dream of your own making. The enchanted ceiling was that of swirling clouds and a dark, starry sky. Snow that could pass for real floated around the outside of the room in glittering flakes that disappeared into thin air before touching the floor, creating a wintery setting that was countered by the cosy and warm feel of the crackling fireplaces around the room. 

Floating around the dance floor were sparkling, swirling lights that would bob and weave between the guests, keeping the lighting low and romantic as candles flickered on the tables and gave the room a wonderfully golden glow. Tablecloths brushing the floors, centrepieces made of golden flowers, wreaths and holly berries. Snow-touched Christmas trees, twinkling lights and ornaments, red ribbons, green silk, accents of gold and silver, and it all came together so perfectly. Draco walked you slowly towards the centre of the room as he took it all in, his jaw dropped as he peered around the room. 

“Well, we’ve certainly never had anything like this before.” He whispered. “It feels so… cosy.”

“Do you think they’ll—”

‘Who cares what they think? Do you like it?” Draco pressed, cutting you off as the two of you stood squarely in the centre of the room, the spelled instruments in the corner starting to play classical versions of your favourite Christmas songs, and his lips flicked up at the corners. “Are you happy with it, my darling?”

“I love it.” You finally relented, pressing your lips together to quash nerves and choosing instead to revel in your masterpiece. “I wanted to tap into that old-fashioned, classical, comforting Christmas. I wanted to make my mark, I wanted something beautiful but simple, I wanted it to feel like an intimate gathering, not a social event.”

The doors at the other end of the hall opened slowly, voices from the other side filtering through, and your attention turned to that of your friends and their families. Theo whistled under his breath as he looked around, stopping abruptly at his father’s command, and he rolled his eyes when the older man wasn’t looking. Across the room, he caught your gaze, and gave an approving nod and a smirk. Pansy’s lips were curled into a smile as Daphne’s jaw dropped, admiring the enchanted sky-scene with her sister. 

You moved to greet them, accepting their approval and using the warmth their comfort offered to soothe the jagged feelings inside of you and put them to rest. 

The more the crowds piled in, the better you felt, slipping into polite chatter and breezy small talk as you greeted each guest to pass through. The drinks were flowing, the music was playing, and most of all, people were smiling. You’d only heard compliments, no whispered talk under anyone's breath of backhanded compliments, only genuine kindness. 

By the time Narcissa and Lucius came gliding into the hall, you’d almost been reassured enough to let your guard down. However, as the regal older lady greeted all her old friends and favoured guests on her way to you, the nerves all seemed to reappear. 

By the time she reached you, her hands had extended out and clutched your own as she smiled. “My, my, dear. What a party you threw, and to think you’ve been so worried. You had no need to be.”

Your jaw dropped, and you shook your head. “I-I wouldn't say worried, just a little concerned, that’s all—”

“Please, let us not hide things from one another. Draco has been writing to me, he told me you were panicking like a, what was that odd Muggle term you used, like a headless chicken?” Her nose wrinkled as you blushed, and Lucius rolled his eyes. Your glare turned to Draco, who only shrugged and sipped his drink, feigning innocence. “This is a marvellous party, I hope you’re proud of it.”

“I am. It was exhausting, though. I don’t know how you do it.” You sighed, and she smirked as she squeezed your hands before letting go. 

“Did it.”

“Hm?” You questioned, and her shoulders rose and fell delicately. 

“Oh, you did such a fantastic job here. You’re all anyone is talking about, and truly, I am so tired of planning these events. I think it’s due time you take over them now. The next one is February, I’ll be sure to send you all of the details.” Your jaw dropped open at her words and Draco choked a little on his champagne. His father scowled, poking him in the ribs with his cane and telling him to stop slouching and spluttering, as you tried to find words. 

“Oh, I’m not sure that—”

“Lucius, dear, I think I see Tauria Parkinson. Come, I must ask her about her gardens.” 

“Yes, dear.” He mumbled quietly, and she had whisked her husband away before you’d even finished your sentence and turned to Draco. With your jaw still dropped in horror and shock, he covered his snicker behind his hand. 

“I can’t believe this.”

“What? She’s right. You planned a great party, and you were going to have to take over all of this one day anyway—”

“Draco!”

“Yes, dear?” He drawled, and you smacked lightly at his chest with the back of your hand.

“You’re a menace. I hope you know that you will be helping with party planning. If we’re to proceed down this road, we’ll be a modern couple. None of your old-fashioned ways.” You scoffed, taking his drink from his hand and swirling the bubbly inside, before drinking the rest in a single gulp.

“None of them?” He pressed, an arm snaking around your waist as his lips brushed your neck. His lips moved to your neck, whispering some sweet, some slightly inappropriate things into your ear about honeymoon traditions, drawing a laugh from you. 

“Alright, maybe a few.” You caved, tipping your head up to him just in time to catch the growing sprig of mistletoe over your head. Snaking one hand around to cup the back of his neck, you pulled his lips down to yours, brushing your mouths together lovingly. “Happy Christmas, Draco.”

“Happy Christmas, my love.”

[blog-o-meter]

25 - Nicholas Alexander Chavez x fem!reader

summary: (Y/N) decides to get her brother’s best friend’s attention and he’s more than willing to give it to her.

warnings: 18+, unprotected p in v, brother’s best friend!nicholas, dominant tease/bratty submissive, slow burn, forbidden romance??, implied age gap but not by much tbh it’s mostly just power dynamic

required listening: 25 by Veruca Salt

word count: 7,742

a/n: ik I try to wait a week between fics but I’m sawriiii I just loved this one too much to not post immediately. I do have another fic in the drafts but honestly I hate it now so I don’t think I’ll post that one. anyway im already planning on continuing this one YUPPPPP 🙂‍↕️ i just love listening to my playlist and writing xoxo lmk if you’re a veruca salt fan

reblogs, likes, and replies are greatly appreciated and let me know if you'd like to see more!

I never meant to eavesdrop on my brother’s conversations with him — Nicholas. Their voices, along with the sounds of Call of Duty blasting through the tv speakers, always managed to spill through the Jack and Jill bathroom that bridged our bedrooms. I would catch myself lingering by the bathroom door, my book or phone in hand as a cover, pretending I just happened to be nearby. My brother would crack some joke, and Nicholas’s laugh would come through low and warm, and my skin would prickle at the sound. Or sometimes I’d even hear the salacious stories of Nicholas and his fling of the week. Either way, I listened intently.

Nicholas and my brother have been best friends for years. He just showed up to the house one day and just kept coming back, like what happens whenever you find your best friend for life, like how I did. But my brother and I don’t run in the same circles, not really; he has his friends, and I have mine — and they never mixed, not even at our backyard cookouts where we’d each invite a friend or two. We always found ourselves at opposite corners of the house, and it was probably because they were a little older than us.

As a result, I never bothered, or was too nervous, to exchange more than a few words with Nicholas other than the occasional polite conversation, but he always managed to get under my skin either way. It was like he knew, somehow, like he could see right through me, past all my attempts at being casual or indifferent.

I couldn’t control the way my heart skipped a beat every time Nicholas’s eyes flicked over to me whenever I’d pass by them in the living room or as we passed around plates at the dinner table, especially not when I’d pass by him in the hallway and he’d flash me that all-too-famous smirk. I guess that’s why I eavesdropped on them; it was the only way I got to know him without having to say a word to him.

So, I didn’t know what was so different about that night that I just had to get Nicholas’s attention somehow, even if for just a second. I wasn’t sure if I would’ve bumped into him in the hallway, or even the bathroom, or not, but I still decided to slip into the skimpiest set of pajamas I had — a delicate pair of shorts that barely reached the back of my thighs and a camisole that clung to me like second skin. My mom had told me to never wear it whenever there were people over; it was “too revealing.”

“(Y/N)!” My brother’s voice traveled through the bathroom, shouting over his TV.

Hesitantly, I rolled out of my bed, my sock-covered feet quietly shuffling across the floor over to the bathroom. Before I reached the door to his room, I looked down at myself and suddenly grew shy. Maybe I was trying too hard. Would Nicholas notice? Second guessing my sudden boldness, I carefully hid half my body behind the door frame when I cracked open the door to his room.

My eyes flickered to Nicholas, who was perched on the edge of my brother’s bed, controller in hand, leaning forward slightly as he focused on the screen. He didn’t look over right away, but the second I peeked through the crack of the door, his gaze shifted back and forth between me and the TV, his thumbs hesitating on the controller.

“Yeah?” I asked quietly, trying to sound as casual as possible, one of my feet cricketing against the other. 

My brother barely glanced at me, his eyes glued to the team deathmatch round they were playing. “Do we still have any snacks left in the pantry or did you finish them?”

I hesitated, feeling Nicholas’s eyes on me. His gaze lingered, scanning over what little of me was visible behind the door. His dark brown eyes were unreadable, but there was something in his expression, something curious, that made me feel both exposed and exhilarated.

“Yeah, there’s still some cookies and chips. I'm not a vacuum,” I said finally, my voice softer now and muttering the last part. I rested my cheek against the frame, my gaze flickering between Nicholas, the floor, and my brother.

“Could you bring us some?” My brother asked, his fingers violently attacking the buttons on the controller, the sounds of loud gunshots and footsteps responding to his every button mash. “We’re in the middle of a round.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sure,” I murmured, trying to keep my voice even. I pushed off the doorframe and stepped back into the bathroom, catching the way Nicholas’s gaze dropped briefly, taking in more of me now that I wasn’t partially hidden.

I ducked back into my room, the air feeling heavier as I padded toward the kitchen. My heart was racing, every nerve in my body alive with the lingering awareness of his gaze. It wasn’t just my brother’s casual request that stuck with me, but the way Nicholas had looked at me — like I wasn’t just his friend’s little sister sneaking glances from behind doors.

In the kitchen, I opened the pantry and pulled out the cookies and chips, my nerves bubbling as I anticipated the moment I’d walk into my brother’s room wearing this outfit. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected — maybe a quick glance and nothing more, but the idea was scintillating either way.

My mom strutted into the kitchen then, still in her work clothes. “I thought I told you not to wear that when people were over,” she smirked knowingly. I had a little bit of a tendency to defy orders.

I glanced over my shoulder, feigning innocence. “It’s hot out,” I shrugged my shoulders as I closed the pantry and scampered past her with snacks in tow.

I returned to my brother’s room with the snacks in hand, pausing at the cracked bathroom door before taking a breath and sheepishly walking in. I stepped fully into the room, my bare legs feeling more exposed than they ever had before. “Here,” I called, keeping my tone neutral, like nothing about this moment felt significant, even though my pulse told a different story.

My brother barely spared me a glance as I set the snacks down in front of them, his attention glued to the screen. Nicholas, on the other hand, wasn’t as discreet. He leaned back slightly, one arm draped over his knee as he finally looked up from the game. His dark brown eyes swept over me, slow and deliberate, lingering just long enough to make me feel like every inch of my skin was on display under his gaze.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t smirk or tease the way he usually did. My cheeks burned as I shifted on my feet, my fingers brushing against the hem of my shorts, unsure what to do with myself.

“Thanks, (Y/N),” Nicholas said finally, his voice cutting through the tension. It was smooth, casual.

I smiled softly, more out of nerves than anything else, and started to retreat toward the door. “Don’t get used to it,” I mumbled, glancing over my shoulder. I cast one last glance at Nicholas. He was still watching me, his head tilted slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was suppressing a smirk. It was like he knew exactly what I was doing.

Now, I don’t know why I did it, maybe because I was so flustered that I didn’t notice or maybe I subconsciously knew what I was doing, but I left my bathroom door open just a smidge, enough for the soft light of my room to spill out and shine through the darkness of the bathroom, like a beacon in the night begging to be followed. Maybe it was a dare, or maybe I was just curious to see if he’d take the bait.

I threw myself onto my bed, stomach down, trying to calm my ever-racing heart as I replayed the moment Nicholas’s gaze lingered on me. I couldn’t bite back the smile forming on my lips as I pictured the look in his eye when I walked into the room. It sent a thrill through me. Did I finally manage to pique his interest as much as he piqued mine?

My heartbeat was unrelenting, so I reached for the book on my nightstand, hoping that reading a few pages might calm me. Of course, though, I wasn’t focusing on the pages. How could I? When my older brother’s hot best friend was right on the other side of that door?

Eventually, the sound of video games and laughter died down as the minutes ticked into the late night, replaced by muffled conversation before trailing off into complete silence. The only sound I could hear, now, was the occasional turn of the page and my thumping heartbeat, maybe the imperceptible hum of the lightbulb coming from my bedside lamp.

And on the other side, Nicholas could also hear the faint scratch of a page turning, too. He was lying down in his makeshift bed of blankets on the floor, quietly scrolling on his phone. The screen of his phone cast a faint glow on his face, but his attention wasn’t on the timeline of tweets he had planned on reading through. It was on that tiny crack of light spilling into the dark bathroom, the faintest view of my room on the other side.

He couldn’t sleep. How could he? The tight, little number I was bold enough to wear but still shy enough to hide behind the door frame, the way I glanced at him when I passed through to give them snacks, the subtle sway of my hips as I disappeared back into the bathroom to my room as if I hadn’t worn that number on purpose. And now, the crack in my door was basically daring him to walk through.

I didn’t know it, but it wasn’t the first time he’d noticed me. He always looked forward to seeing me scamper through the kitchen as quickly as possible whenever they took it over for whatever they were doing, and he was always equally curious about what would happen behind my door, especially when he could hear me laughing with my friends or my CD player blasting Veruca Salt.

His friend — my brother — was out cold, snoring like a chainsaw. Nicholas glanced at him, then back at the door, then back at him, then back at the door. It was a bad idea; he knew it. I was off-limits. My brother hadn’t told him that explicitly, but he did express his distaste when Nicholas made an off-handed comment about me some a couple years ago and that was enough to deter him. But tonight, my brother was asleep, while Nicholas and I were still awake.

Nicholas turned his phone off then, quietly pulling the blanket off himself and standing up, padding quietly to the bathroom and closing the door to my brother’s room behind him. He tiptoed toward my door, taking a peek through the crack and hoping that maybe just indulging himself in the image of me would satiate him. But the moment he saw me on my bed — twiddling with the end of a braid or two or many as I laid on my stomach, propped up on my elbows as I read, my legs crossed at the ankles, the pajamas I wore barely covering anything — he knew just looking wouldn’t be enough.

My heart raced when I heard the faint creak of my door, but I didn’t look up right away, choosing to pretend I was so engrossed in my book that I couldn’t be bothered to see what had made the noise. What did make me glance over my shoulder, though, was the light clinking of glass.

I turned my head and saw Nicholas leaning against the doorframe curiously inspecting a nail polish I had left on the dresser that was near the bathroom door, a smirk on his face. That set my heart racing.

“Nicholas,” I spoke quietly as I closed the book in my hands, watching him as he continued to fiddle with the things on my dresser — nail polishes, bracelets, a hairbrush.

Nicholas didn’t say anything at first, just let his dark brown eyes sweep across my dresser one last time before they swept across my room, then finally landed on me and took in the scene — the book in my hands, the way I was sprawled across the bed, the faint flush on my cheeks that I couldn’t seem to shake.

He glanced over his shoulder back toward my brother’s bathroom door, still closed, before looking back at me. “Are you usually up this late?” he said finally, his voice low, like he was afraid of breaking the stillness of the moment.

I turned onto my side, giving him a better view of me in my pajamas. His gaze lingered on my torso, and I bit back a smile. “Sometimes.”

He dropped his arms and stepped in, his movements unhurried as he quietly closed the door behind him and looked around my room. I couldn’t believe it. He was in my room.

“Your brother’s out cold,” he said, almost like an explanation, as if I didn’t already know. He turned his head to look at the Heart poster on my wall, arching his back to stretch, his shirt riding up a little to show off the happy trail adorning his lower abdomen. I just about choked at the sight.

When he looked back at me, he had that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “You left your door open.”

“Did I?” I asked quietly, lying back down on my stomach but looking at him over my shoulder.

His smirk deepened, like he didn’t believe me for a second. “Didn’t you?”

My stomach flipped, the challenge in his tone making it impossible to look away, but I had to if I didn’t want him to see the heat rising to my cheeks. So I turned my attention back to my book but the words blurred together. I couldn’t focus, not at all. “You shouldn’t be in here.”

He stepped further into the room until he was at the edge of my bed looking down at me, still smirking. “You don’t sound very convincing.”

I shrugged, letting my fingers trail along the edge of the pages. I decided to give him an out, something that would test his resolve. “My brother’s gonna kill you if he finds out.”

He hesitated, just for a moment, before sitting down next to me. The mattress dipped under his weight, and I shifted slightly to face him. “I know,” he whispered as his eyes trailed my bare legs.

He slowly laid down on his side beside me, and it all started with a touch — his hand reaching out to rest on my thigh, his palm hot against my skin. My breath hitched, but I didn’t pull away. Instead, I let my leg drift closer toward him, the faintest encouragement.

“I should go,” he murmured softly, his fingers brushing up and stopping just short at the hem of my shorts. His eyes flicked up to mine, gazing at me through his abundance of eyelashes.

I couldn’t look away from his dark brown eyes, the way they softened as they met mine, yet held something deeper — something that made my pulse race. I was quiet for a moment, savoring the heat of his hand on my hand, the warmth spreading all over my body. “Yeah, you should,” I whispered, my voice lacking any real conviction.

Neither of us moved.

Nicholas’s lips parted slightly, like he wanted to say something, but no words came out. Instead, he just watched me, his gaze flicking to my lips, then back to my eyes. His hand inched higher, stopping just at the edge of my shorts again, as if he were waiting for a signal. And I gave him it, letting my book fall through my fingers and shifting closer toward him.

That was all it took. He leaned in, his hand sliding up my thigh as his lips captured mine in a kiss that stole the air from my lungs. It was slow at first, like he was testing the waters, but it didn’t take long for the tension between us to boil over. Quickly, the kiss deepened. His hands roamed, pulling me closer as I melted into him, my fingers tangling in his hair.

“Tell me to go,” he murmured against my lips, his breath warm on my skin.

I tugged him closer, “Stay.”

Nicholas’s weight pressed into the mattress as he rolled me over, his hands sliding along the curve of my waist and down to my hips as our legs tangled together. My fingers curled into the fabric of his t-shirt, pulling him closer as the world outside my room melted away. Every shift of his body against mine, every brush of his fingertips against bare skin, ignited a fire I couldn’t ignore.

His lips trailed down to my jaw, slow and deliberate, sending a wave of heat rushing through me. His breath was warm against my neck, and I arched into him instinctively, feeling his body tense in response.

I tugged at the hem of his shirt, and he obliged, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the floor. My eyes traced the lines of his shoulders, the way his muscles moved as he leaned back down, his delicate chain dangling over me, his hands framing my face like he needed to commit every detail to memory. My own hands wandered, exploring the warmth of his skin, the tension in his back as he pressed closer.

The cool air hit my skin as he slid the strap of my camisole off my shoulder, his lips replacing it with a trail of soft, heated kisses that moved to my collarbone. My heart raced as I looked up at the ceiling of my room, every sense heightened as his hands roamed lower, his touch firm but unhurried.

My breath caught in my throat as Nicholas’s lips continued their slow descent, every kiss igniting sparks along my skin. My hands moved of their own accord, tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as I arched into his touch. His hand slid under the hem of my camisole, his fingers splaying over my ribs as he paused to look at me, his dark brown eyes asking the silent question.

I nodded, and his lips were back on mine in an instant, the kiss growing more intense, as he bunched the fabric in his palm and pulled it off of me, leaving me bare-chested. He pulled back and drank the sight of me in, his jaw going tight as he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against mine.

For a moment, I grew self-conscious, thinking maybe he would pull away completely now that he’s seen me half-naked. Maybe I didn’t measure up to the girls he’s been with. “Is something wrong?” I quietly asked.

Nicholas shook his head almost immediately, his forehead still resting against mine as he let out a shaky breath. His hands moved to cradle my face, his thumbs brushing over my cheeks as his dark brown eyes opened to meet mine. They were softer now, but no less intense.

“No, fuck no,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, like he was trying to find the right words and failing. He pulled back just enough to look at me, his brown eyes locking onto mine. “You’re perfect, (Y/N). That’s the problem.”

The raw honesty in his tone made my breath hitch, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it. I swallowed hard, my gaze dropping for a moment before flicking back up to him. “Then why did you—?”

“I needed a second,” he interrupted softly, his voice almost strained as he cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing over my flushed skin. “You’re just—you’re making it really hard to be the good guy here.”

His words sent a rush of heat through me, my heart pounding in my chest as I searched his face. “I’m not asking you to be the good guy,” I whispered, my voice trembling slightly.

“You sure?” he murmured against my lips, his voice barely above a whisper. “Because if we do this, there’s no going back. Your brother’s gonna kill me if he finds out, and I don’t—” He broke off, his jaw tightening as he pulled back to look at me again. “I don’t want to fuck this up.”

I reached up to frame his face, my thumbs brushing over his cheekbones as I held his gaze. “I want this, Nic,” I said softly, my voice steady now despite the chaos in my chest.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his eyes searching mine like he was trying to figure out if I really meant it. Then, with a quiet curse, he groaned quietly, like he was fighting an internal battle, before he leaned down to kiss me again. This time, it wasn’t tentative or testing — it was all-consuming.

I gasped softly into the kiss, my hands gripping his shoulders as he pulled me closer, his body pressing against mine with a heat that made it impossible to think straight. His hands slid down my sides, his touch rougher now, less restrained, like he was done holding himself back.

Nicholas’s lips trailed down my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there, and I couldn’t bite back the quiet moan that escaped me. He groaned in response, his fingers gripping my hips tightly as he buried his face in the crook of my neck. “Jesus, baby, you’re gonna wake the whole house,” he muttered, his voice rough and muffled against my skin.

I let out a breathless laugh, tugging on his hair to make him look at me. “You’re the one talking so much,” I shot back, my voice barely above a whisper.

His dark eyes narrowed slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching in annoyance. “Oh, is that right?” he said, his tone low and dangerous as he leaned in close, his lips brushing against my ear. “You’re the one moaning like you don’t give a shit if your brother hears us.”

My cheeks burned, and I glared at him, my hand smacking lightly against his chest. “You’re an asshole,” I muttered, but the smirk at the end of my lips betrayed any conviction I’d intended to convey.

Nicholas caught my wrist gently, grinning and clearly pleased with himself, and pinned it against the pillows above my head, “And you’re a fucking tease,” he whispered, a teasing glint in his eyes. He planted a wet kiss on my lips, murmuring, “Okay, we both stay quiet then, deal?”

I bit my lip, narrowing my eyes at him, the corner of my mouth twitching with a mix of annoyance and amusement. “Fine,” I whispered, my voice barely audible but dripping with playful defiance.

Nicholas’s grin deepened, and he leaned down, brushing his nose against my own before pulling back completely and resting back on his heels as his fingers trailed down to the waistband of my shorts. His fingers lingered, his touch light but deliberate as his dark brown eyes locked onto mine. His teasing smirk faltered, replaced by something softer, something that made my heart pound harder than I thought possible. He hesitated for just a second, like he needed one last confirmation, and I gave him a small nod, my breath catching in my throat as I lifted my hips slightly.

He exhaled softly, almost like he was steadying himself, before he slid my shorts and underwear down in one smooth motion, leaving me completely bare beneath him. The air felt cool against my skin, and I had to fight the instinct to cover myself. Instead, I forced myself to hold his gaze, my cheeks flushed and my heart racing.

Nicholas’s eyes swept over me, slow and deliberate, like he was committing every detail to memory. He let out a quiet curse, his jaw tightening as he ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck,” he murmured, almost to himself, as he leaned down to rest his forehead on my stomach and leaving lingering kisses near my navel.

My fingers instinctively found their way to his hair, tangling in the soft strands as I looked down at him. He rested there for a moment, his breath warm against my skin as he closed his eyes, like he needed a second to process everything.

I let out a soft laugh, the sound trembling slightly as I tugged gently on his hair. “You’re so dramatic,” I teased, my voice light but full of warmth. “Are you sure you’ve seen a girl naked before?”

He shot his head up, his eyebrows flared in surprise, and for a split second, I thought I might’ve caught him off guard. But then his smirk returned, sharper now, and he grabbed both my wrists in one hand, pinning them above my head as he shifted to cover me completely. “Oh, you’re gonna regret saying that,” he growled playfully, his voice dropping an octave as his free hand skimmed down my side, his touch light but promising.

I squirmed under him, trying to hide the way his teasing touch was already getting to me. I don’t know what it was about Nicholas that brought out this side of me — teasing, defiant — but I loved it.

“You’re such a—” My words cut off in a gasp as he pressed his hips against mine, the sudden pressure of his sweatpants against my bare self making me lose my train of thought completely.

Nicholas chuckled softly, the sound low and dangerous as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against my ear. “What was that, baby?” he murmured, his tone smug. “You were saying something?”

I glared at him, my cheeks burning, and wriggled my wrists under his palm, “Nic, the longer you’re not inside me, the more time you’re giving my brother to wake up.”

Nicholas froze, his dark eyes widening for just a second before narrowing into something almost predatory. The smirk tugging at the corner of his lips turned wicked, and his grip on my wrists tightened slightly as he pressed his forehead against mine. But then, he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “Fine,” he murmured, his tone dropping even lower, sending a shiver down my spine.

He released my wrists, and I immediately brought my hands to his chest, letting my fingers trail over the defined muscles before sliding them down toward the waistband of his sweatpants. My heart raced, my cheeks burning as I hooked my fingers under the fabric.

Nicholas shifted slightly, propping himself on his elbows as he watched me, his dark eyes hooded with intensity. The faint smirk tugging at his lips remained as I hesitated for a moment, my fingers gripping the waistband of his sweatpants. I could feel his breath on my skin, warm and steady, as if he were daring me to go further.

Slowly, deliberately, I tugged the fabric down his hips, the soft material sliding against his skin. His muscles tensed slightly beneath my touch, and I couldn’t help the way my breath hitched as his length slipped out — ready and aching. The tension between us was palpable, the room heavy with anticipation as I pushed his sweatpants lower until they pooled around his knees.

Nicholas’s hands found my hips, his grip firm but not rough as he leaned down to kiss me again, his lips capturing mine in a way that made me forget everything else. His body pressed against mine, the heat of his skin sending a rush of warmth through me as his hands trailed up my sides, fingers skimming the sensitive skin just beneath my ribs.

For a moment, we just stayed like that, our breaths mingling as we stared at each other, the unspoken tension between us reaching its peak. Nicholas’s gaze was intense, his dark eyes searching mine as if he were asking for permission one last time.

I didn’t bother nodding. Instead, I reached to wrap my hand around his length and guide him in, to which Nicholas responded by burying his head in the crook of my neck and muttering a quiet, “Fuck,” before reaching to replace my hand with his own. “You’re so wet already.”

The air seemed to still, the only sound in the room being the soft rustle of sheets and our breathing — ragged, uneven. Nicholas moved slowly at first, his grip on my hips tightening as he inserted himself into me. I let out a whimper as I felt every inch of him, the way he stretched and filled me, his warmth burning into me like a fire I never wanted to put out.

My hand found its way to his back, my nails digging lightly into his skin as I arched beneath him, a quiet gasp slipping past my lips. “Nic…” His name came out in a breathy whisper, and the sound of it seemed to spur him on. His hips moved, deliberate and measured, and every movement sent shockwaves through me.

“Baby,” he murmured into my neck, his voice strained and breathless. “You feel so fucking good.”

The heat pooling in my stomach grew with every roll of his hips, my body responding to him in a way that felt instinctual, like I had been waiting for this moment all along. His hand slid down to grip my thigh, pulling it higher around his waist as he angled himself deeper, drawing a sharp cry from me that I quickly muffled with my free hand.

“Shh,” he teased softly, his lips brushing against my ear as he chuckled, though his voice was tight with restraint. His breath was warm against my skin as he added, “You don’t want your brother barging in, do you?”

I shot him a glare through my haze of pleasure, but it was useless. Nicholas was in control now, and he knew it. The rhythm of his hips changed, slower but impossibly deeper, making it even harder to stay quiet. I bit down on my lip, my hand reaching to clutch at the sheets as waves of heat rolled through me with every deliberate thrust.

Nicholas shifted slightly, his lips brushing over my jawline before capturing my lips again in a kiss that was just as demanding as the way his body moved against mine. His free hand trailed up my side, his thumb grazing over the sensitive skin just below my ribs, making me shiver beneath him. His hand trailed further down, pressing down on my lower abdomen as if he could feel himself moving inside.

The added pressure made me gasp, my head tilting back as pleasure rippled through me, sharp and consuming, and quickly I covered my mouth again. Nicholas groaned in response, the sound low and guttural, and I realized just how loud he was getting. My heart raced, panic and desire tangling together as I reached up and pressed my other hand over his mouth, muffling the next moan that slipped from his lips.

His dark eyes widened in surprise for a split second before narrowing, a flicker of something mischievous and dangerous sparking there. His hips slowed, the deliberate roll of his body against mine making my own breathing hitch. He didn’t protest my hand, though — instead, he leaned into it, his tongue flicking out to trace along my palm teasingly, his eyes locked onto mine as if daring me to keep him quiet.

I clenched my jaw, trying to hold onto some semblance of control, but it was useless. Every movement of his hips, every flick of his tongue against my skin, was breaking me down piece by piece. He shifted slightly, angling deeper, and I bit down hard on my lip to stop the moan that threatened to escape.

I peeled the hand I had over my mouth, “Nic,” I hissed under my breath, my voice shaking as I glared at him. “You’re impossible.”

He grinned against my hand, his dark eyes hooded and filled with heat as his hips rolled again, drawing another muffled gasp from me. His free hand slid up my thigh, gripping firmly before pulling my leg higher around his waist, allowing him to press even deeper. The sensation was overwhelming, and my fingers flexed against his face as I tried to stifle my own sounds.

Nicholas groaned again, louder this time, and I pressed my hand harder against his mouth, shooting him a warning look. “Shh,” I whispered harshly, my voice trembling as I struggled to keep my own composure.

He nodded slightly, his lips brushing against my palm in silent agreement, but the way his hips moved told me he had no intention of slowing down. If anything, his pace quickened, each thrust more precise, more deliberate, as if he were testing just how far he could push me before I completely unraveled.

My hand stayed over his mouth, but I could feel the vibrations of his muffled groans against my skin, each one sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through me. My free hand clutched at his shoulder, nails digging into his skin as my body arched beneath him, helpless to the rhythm he’d set.

The tension between us was unbearable, every movement, every touch pushing me closer to the edge. My heart pounded in my chest, my breaths coming in short, uneven gasps as I fought to stay quiet, to stay in control. But Nicholas wasn’t making it easy. The hand he was using to press down on my lower abdomen slipped between us, his fingers brushing against the sensitive spot where our bodies met, and I couldn’t stop the sharp cry that escaped me.

His eyes flicked up to mine, a wicked smile tugging at the corners of his lips even as they remained muffled against my hand. He pressed his fingers harder, circling with just enough pressure to send me spiraling. My body tensed, every nerve ending on fire as pleasure crashed over me in waves, and I had to bite down hard on my lip to keep from crying out. That’s when he let go of the thigh he had wrapped around his waist and guided his hand over my mouth, pressing down to muffle my sounds.

And now, we were both there, covering the other’s mouth with our hands, trying so hard to fight back our moans. All we could hear was the sounds of skin and our labored breaths blowing through our nostrils.

The room was thick with tension, every sound amplified as we moved together, muffling each other as if the act itself were part of the thrill. Nicholas’s hand covered my mouth firmly, his dark eyes locking onto mine as his hips drove deeper, more deliberate. Each thrust sent waves of heat rippling through me, my body trembling as I teetered on the edge of control.

My breaths were shallow, uneven, my free hand clutching at his shoulder as the tension in my stomach coiled tighter and tighter. His other hand slid down my thigh, pulling my leg higher around his waist to angle himself deeper, and the sensation was overwhelming. My head tilted back, the cry building in my throat muffled against his palm.

I was close — so close it felt like every nerve in my body was on fire. Nicholas must have sensed it because his pace quickened, his movements more erratic as he chased the edge with me. His lips curved into a smirk against my hand, but the dark intensity in his gaze told me he was just as affected.

When the tension snapped, it was like a dam breaking. My thighs trembled around him, my breaths coming out in sharp, uneven bursts, as I arched beneath him, a wave of pleasure crashing over me so powerful it left me shaking. Nicholas’s hand pressed tighter against my mouth, muffling the sharp cry that escaped me as I clung to him, my nails digging into his back. He groaned in response, his movements faltering as he watched me fall apart beneath him, my hand covering his mouth falling limp over my forehead.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough and strained. His hand stayed firmly over my mouth, his other sliding down to hold my hip as his pace grew erratic, desperate.

I barely had time to catch my breath before I realized he was close too. His movements grew rougher, his control unraveling as his own breathing turned ragged. The hand covering my mouth loosened slightly, and I took the opportunity to nip at his finger, earning a low growl from him as he pulled it away.

Nicholas’s eyes snapped to mine, wide with surprise. “What the hell—” he started, but I cut him off with a fierce whisper.

“You better pull out,” I hissed, my voice sharp despite the trembling in my tone.

Nicholas’s jaw tightened as my words registered, his dark eyes narrowing with a mix of frustration and urgency. His breath hitched, and I could feel the tension radiating off him as he fought for control, his hips stuttering in their rhythm. “I’ve got it,” he muttered, his voice strained and low, almost as if he were trying to reassure himself as much as me.

“Nic,” I pressed, my tone firm despite the lingering haze of pleasure coursing through me. My nails raked lightly down his back, urging him to listen, to not lose himself completely.

He nodded, his movements becoming deliberate, careful. His hand shifted to grip my waist tightly, steadying himself as his breathing grew heavier. “I’m not gonna—” His words cut off with a guttural groan, and I felt his body tremble against mine, his restraint fraying with each passing second.

At the last possible moment, Nicholas pulled out with a strangled curse, his hand reaching down to finish himself. His dark eyes fluttered shut, his jaw clenched as his release spilled across my stomach, warm and lingering. The sight of him unraveling like that, the raw vulnerability etched into his features, made my chest tighten.

For a few moments, the only sound in the room was our heavy breathing, his body still hovering above mine as he tried to catch his breath. His head dipped forward, his lips brushing softly against my temple as he whispered, “Are you okay?”

I nodded, my voice catching slightly as I answered, “Yeah, I’m okay.” My hands found his shoulders, grounding both of us as he shifted to sit back on his heels. His gaze softened as it roamed over me, searching for any sign of discomfort or regret.

“I didn’t—” he started, his voice hoarse and unsteady, but I cut him off with a small smile.

“You didn’t,” I reassured him, reaching up to trace the edge of his jaw.

Nicholas exhaled sharply, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to my lips. It wasn’t rushed or heated like before; it was gentle, filled with a quiet kind of affection that made my heart ache. When he pulled back, his fingers brushed lightly across my stomach, his touch careful and almost apologetic.

“Let me clean you up,” he murmured, his voice soft as he reached over to grab a discarded shirt, maybe mine, from the edge of the bed.

I rolled my eyes, my lips twitching in amusement as I watched him carefully clean me up, his movements surprisingly gentle despite the teasing smirk still tugging at his lips. When he was done, he leaned down to press a soft kiss to my stomach, his lips lingering for just a moment before lying  down beside me, pulling me into his arms without hesitation. His body was warm and solid against mine, his breathing still slightly uneven as his fingers traced idle patterns on my shoulder.

The silence that followed was thick but not uncomfortable. Nicholas’s fingers moved gently across my skin, as if he were trying to map every inch of me. My cheek rested against his chest, his heartbeat steady and grounding beneath my ear. I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into the moment, even as a thousand unspoken thoughts swirled between us.

It felt natural, lying there with him. His hand slipped to my hair, tangling in the strands softly, and I let out a contented sigh. Neither of us said anything for a long time, the stillness interrupted only by the sound of our breaths syncing together.

Nicholas was the one to break the silence, his voice low and husky. “What time is it?”

I blinked, my mind still clouded from everything that had just happened. I tilted my head toward my bedside table, squinting at the digital clock. “Almost three,” I mumbled.

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face while tightening the arm he had around me briefly before letting out a resigned sigh. “Your brother’s gonna wake up in a few hours.”

“Exactly,” I muttered, untangling myself from his arms and sitting up, “which is why you need to get out of here.”

Nicholas smirked as he sat up as well, his dark brown eyes watching me closely. “Kicking me out already?” he teased, his voice low and playful. “I’m starting to feel used, baby.”

I rolled my eyes, climbing out of bed and walking past my dirty camisole that was discarded on the floor to reach into my dresser and pull out a clean shirt, “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“You’re the one that asked me to stay,” he quipped, leaning back on his hands as if he had all the time in the world.

I shot him a warning look, but it only seemed to amuse him further. Letting out an exasperated sigh, I grabbed my shorts from the floor as I walked back over to the bed and tossed them in his direction. “If you’re so eager to hang around, you can help me get dressed. I think that’s the least you can do after fucking your best friend’s sister.”

Nicholas froze for a moment, his smirk faltering as his dark eyes widened slightly at my words. A laugh escaped him, low and incredulous, as he shook his head. “Wow, you really don’t hold back, do you?”

I crossed my arms, raising an eyebrow at him, smirking. “Am I wrong?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he grabbed my shorts from where they landed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he beckoned me closer with a playful glint in his eyes. “Alright, princess. Let me help.”

With an exaggerated sigh, I stepped closer, though the flush creeping up my neck betrayed my nonchalance. Nicholas patted his thigh, gesturing for me to stand between his legs. His hands were warm as they slid up my calves to my thighs, holding me steady as he crouched slightly to help me into the shorts.

His movements were slow, deliberate, as he guided the fabric up my legs. He tugged the waistband gently, his thumbs brushing against my hips before snapping the shorts into place. His dark eyes flicked up to meet mine, and for a moment, the teasing glint softened into something quieter, something that made my heart stutter.

I reached for the clean shirt I’d left on the bed, but Nicholas beat me to it, picking it up with a smirk. “Arms up,” he instructed, his tone mockingly authoritative as he held the shirt open.

Rolling my eyes but unable to stop the small smile tugging at my lips, I raised my arms, letting him slip the shirt over my head. His hands brushed against my skin as he adjusted the hem, smoothing it down over my waist. When he leaned back on his hands to admire his handiwork, his smirk returned, but it was softer now.

“There,” he murmured, his voice lower now. “Good as new.”

“Thanks,” I said softly, my stomach fluttering. I bent down and reached for Nicholas’s clothes and tossed them to him.

Nicholas caught the bundle of his clothes easily, the smirk on his face growing as he stood to pull his sweatpants back on. I watched as he stuffed his dick into his sweats, my cheeks growing hot as he then slipped into his shirt. The chain around his neck glinted faintly in the dim light as he adjusted it, his dark eyes flicking back to mine.

Nicholas smiled softly, running a hand through his tousled hair as he stepped toward the bathroom door.

I followed him as he reached for the door, keeping my voice low. “Please don’t tell anyone about tonight.”

He turned to face me, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe as his smirk softened into something more genuine. “Relax, baby. Your secret’s safe with me.” The teasing lilt in his voice was gone, replaced by a quiet sincerity that made my chest tighten.

I nodded, swallowing hard as I tried to ignore the fluttering in my stomach. “Good.”

He pushed the door open slowly, peeking into the bathroom to make sure it was still quiet on the other side. Just as he stepped through, he glanced back over his shoulder, his smirk returning in full force. He winked, disappearing into the bathroom with a quiet click of the door.

I rolled my eyes, biting back a smile. I stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door as the reality of everything that had just happened settled over me.

My skin still tingled everywhere he’d touched me, his hands, his lips, the way his voice had dropped when he whispered my name. It all replayed in my head, over and over and over. With a deep breath, I turned back to my bed, doing a horrible job of biting back the smirk on my lips.

I should’ve been panicking — thinking about what my brother would do if he found out, but all I could feel was a heady mix of excitement and disbelief. I had just slept with Nicholas, my brother’s best friend.

[nocasdatsgay]

First Winter Solstice: A Neapolitan Bonds Fic

Rating: T | Word Count: 1611 |Pairing: Reader/Eris/Azriel |

Neapolitan Bonds Masterlist | Read on A03 | Read Below

Summary: You convince Az and Eris to let you decorate the Forest House for Winter Solstice as new Lady of Autumn.

A/N: Happy belated Solstice. I decided to whip this up I since I was getting in the grove of writing again. I will update the wips before new years (I hope). I hope everyone has a safe and happy holiday this week :D

Tagging: @mybestfriendmademe @pit-and-the-pen @hieragalbatorixdottir @thisblogisaboutabook @lilah-asteria @daycourtofficial @ysmtttty @crazylokonugget @st4r-girl-official @tele86 @stargirlrchive @laughterafter @scarsandallaz @bobbyisbored @chaos-on-stand-bi @romantastyreaser28 @laylagrace403 @skysayshi If I missed you or tagged you by accident let me know.

You laid out the floor plans in front of your mates in Eris’s office, both of them staring at the stack of scrolls. Eris was the first to move, picking up one roll,opening it, and eyeing it skeptically. You waited, hardly controlling your excitement. Your anxiety spiked however when Eris frowned. 

“You’re decorating every floor of the house?” 

“Well. Yes. But I promise it’s not as excessive as it looks.” A lie. “I planned on taking the Mabon and Equinox decorations and repurposing them. I swear I stayed under my budget.”

That made Az chuckle.

Eris, however, turned even more serious. “Who gave you a budget?” 

“I-“ his anger was palpable and you froze up, eye stinging. “I’m sorry I just. I gave myself a budget so you wouldn’t worry-“ 

“Yourself?” Eris studied you for a moment. “And no one told you to do it?”

“No.” You replied slowly. 

“Thank the gods,” Eris instantly relaxed. “I thought I would have to murder Farron.” Your confusion must have been evident. His gaze softened. “My love. You are the Lady of this court. Your word is equal to mine and Azriel’s. No one is to tell you what you can and cannot do.” 

Right. You were still getting used to it. Even mentally preparing didn’t actually help. You were used to working in the background and now? Not even been mated for half a year and advisors were asking you for opinions and orders. Which was part of the reason you had a stack of plans for the winter solstice. 

“So, does this seem reasonable?” You asked meekly. 

Eris shrugged and looked at Az. “That’s more your call.” 

“It should be fine,” Az brushed his hair back with his hand, stretching out his wings. “I trust you. Don’t think it’s lost on me you brought this up right before we head to the continent.” 

He gave you that smirk that still made your heart flutter. “I wanted it to be some of a surprise.” You shrugged, face heating. 

“As long as you don’t burn the Forest House down, I think it will be fine,” Eris got up and gave you a kiss on the forehead. “I have a meeting with the advisors. I’ll see you at dinner.” 

You waited until he left to squeal and dance in your seat. “Oh you’re both going to love it I promise.” 

“You know you’re cute when you're happy.” Az looked you over, his hazel eyes glinting. “Come here, baby.” 

You knew exactly what he was planning but playfully rolled your eyes and got on his lap. You made sure to magically lock the door first. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

While Eris and Az were on the continent you kept yourself busy managing court and decorating. Autumn wasn’t big on the Winter Solstice. Being close to the border of Winter, some villages in the North were more festive than where you were. That made it easier to obtain some items you needed. It took a week but the decorations were finished the day before they returned. 

The day of their return you were full of jitters. You needed everything to be perfect. Especially since it was the night before the Winter solstice itself. The weather seemed to be cooperating, snow lightly falling as you waited outside on the steps for them to arrive. You wrote they had to come in through the front so you could show them in. The sun had set by the time you went out to greet them. 

You were bundled up in your furs, one of the smoke hounds, Bronte sitting by you patiently. The moment they winnowed in, his tail wagged and thumped on the steps. Eris clicked his tongue and Bronte shot off to them, having permission to jump and yelped. You laughed behind your hand as they both took turns giving him pets. 

“Did you watch over Y/N?” Eris asked, scratching his ear. 

“He was the best boy,” you grinned and Bronte barked. “Come on, it’s cold!” You dramatically shivered. 

“This is nothing,” Az grinned. “If anything this is warm to me.”

You tugged on his bond playfully. When they reached the top of the steps, you opened the door to the entrance hall. 

Az’s face lit up with a grin at the sight of the tinsel and garland running down along the walls. 

“This is nice,” he replied. You took his hand. 

“Close your eyes. I’ll walk you. There’s a surprise.”

You looked over at Eris who pretended to close his eyes but opened them to look around. You felt his bond hum with approval as you both guided Az down the hall. Az didn’t know you’d been planning this with Eris since Autumn Equinox. You had to bribe the shadows- well, you blocked them when you’d meet and talk and scold any that eavesdropped. It seemed they listened. 

Eris as High Lord never had time to make an extravagant deal about the Winter Solstice. Not in a way he felt his mate deserved. So when you asked, he immediately gave you plans he’d sat on for nearly a decade. Those same floor plans he pretended to look at a week ago. You added things, ordered the decorations with the help of Farron. Now was the moment of truth. 

You led them into the throne room and squeezed his hand. “Okay you can look now.” 

Whatever Az expected, it wasn’t what he saw. His smile faltered, true shock taking over his features. The whole throne room had multi-colored fae lights, several large evergreens placed by the windows, and garland and tinsel on the walls. His breath hitched when he saw who was standing by the fireplace and one of the trees. His mother, Feyre, Nyx, Rhysand, Cassian, and Nesta were all waiting patiently. 

Nyx, seeing his uncle’s eyes were opened, was jumping, wings flapping excitedly. “Are you surprised?!” 

“I think he is bud,” Rhys gave you all an apologetic look. 

“Wait,” Az looked at you then Eris. “You were in on this?” 

“It was his plan originally.” You grinned, squeezing his hand and tugging the bond. “I just worked my magic.” 

“She invited them,” Eris replied. You were quickly learning with you and Az, he was somewhat humble. You rolled your eyes and he added. “But I knew they’d be here.” 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Az muttered. His eyes looked a little watery. “You know I- it’s not-“

“Come on, we have presents to open.” You tugged his hand. He gave you a small smile in return for cutting in. 

Chairs appeared. You all spent the next hour chatting, passing around presents. You joked that this was Az’s present from you before handing him a wrapped box. You then had Greta, one of the maids who’d been helping you all week, bring tea. You slipped her a gift of her own as you took the trays. Eventually Nyx got restless. He started to run around the room letting shadows and Bronte chase him. His laughter echoed as did Bronte’s little barks. 

Feyre chuckled. “He’s almost 14 and he still has the energy of a toddler.” 

“He can use that energy to chase this one for me.” Nesta rubbed her stomach. She showed more than when you last saw her, the loose dress draping around her bump. “Not even big enough to fully show and they’re already kicking the shit out of me.” 

“Now why ever would anyone do that you?” Rhys muttered. 

“Don’t worry Nes. I’ll teach them to kick Rhys in the shins as soon as they walk,” Cassian gave his mate a kiss while she flipped off Rhys. 

It was late when everyone left. Az promised Feyre and Rhys they’d see them tomorrow for her birthday dinner. He also convinced his mother to stay the night and they’d winnow her home after the dinner. 

“Thank you,” Az said later in your rooms. “You didn’t have to do all that.” 

“I did too. I like the Winter Solstice. And it’s your tradition.” You shrugged. “It really was Eris’s plans.” 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Eris waved a hand at Az, who was in fact looking at him like that. “Don’t get used to it either. Next year it won’t be a surprise.”

“You’re doing this next year?” He asked, looking between the two of you. 

“If you want. Then you’ll have a whole week to enjoy the decorations instead of one day.” You smiled, pleased with yourself. “We’re a multi-cultural court now. We’re celebrating all the holidays. I’m planning The Breaking Of Dawn’s New Year as we speak.” 

“I conveniently forgot about that,” Eris muttered. 

“Says the fae male up at dawn most days anyways,” you shot him a playful look. “It’ll be fun. Thesan is sending me Dawn grapes and I have the morning feast already prepped.” 

“What are the grapes for?” Az tilted his head slightly, wings scrunching in slightly. 

“You eat 12 grapes for each month. It brings luck.” You yawned. You glanced at the clock and exhaustion hit you hard. “But can we talk about it tomorrow? I love you but I’m tired.” 

Az immediately stepped up and swept you off your feet. You yelped and Eris laughed loudly. 

“What?” Az asked as he carried you to the bed. “You said you were tired.” 

You wanted to argue and yet your mind went blank as soft brushes of shadows ran through your hair. 

“Not fair,” you muttered, your eyes suddenly feeling heavy. 

Az just hummed. You didn’t hear what else he or Eris had to say, shadows muffling sound as they put you to bed and let you drift off to sleep. 

[amyispxnk]

Silent Night

Summary - You're back from college for the holidays, and you've decided on exactly what you want for Christmas - Joel Miller's cock.

A/N: this was such a last minute fic im ngl rn. wasn't even planning on posting a Christmas fic, let alone my FIRST dbf joel miller smut?? anyway, i hope everyone enjoys. happy Christmas<3

Pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: smut, some good ole daddy kink, age gap (20+ years), Joel is pretty pervy in this, alcohol, divorce mentions. Not proofread because I'm tired

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

When you left for college all that time ago, Joel didn't have any strong feelings towards you. You were his best friend's kid, so naturally he saw you often, and got close with you. You were a sweet kid, kind, smart (more than him, he reckoned), and very.. determined when you wanted to be.

Now you're back for Christmas, and as he sees you exiting your dad's car, hurrying over to him, yelling “Joel! Joel! Oh, I missed you so much!” he realises how fucked up his mind might be.

Any normal guy who was reuniting with a girl he'd known since she was a teenager, and a girl he had at least 20 years on, would not be looking at how her tits bounced in her crop top, or how her leggings were tight enough to let him see just how perfect your ass was.

But Joel wasn't normal, he wasn't a good man, so he was looking for all of those things. If he'd actually been looking at your face, maybe he'd have seen you smirking. Maybe he'd have realised you wore those clothes for exactly this reason.

-

Joel, or dad's best buddy, Mr Miller, as you'd known him until you were 16 and couldn't be bothered to pay respect to your elders, had been a part of your life for a while.

Ever since your mom took off, Joel was coming around far more often and, in his own gruff and quiet way, was taking care of you more than your own father was at the time.

Nowadays, you didn't really have any resentment towards your father because of this - he'd just gotten divorced, he was going through a rough time.

But teenage you definitely did, and having Joel step in like that definitely left you with mixed feelings.

If things weren't the way they were back then, you'd probably have developed this all-encompassing crush on him even earlier.

When you were leaving for college though, the crush suddenly dived into your life, crashing down and muddling up everything you thought you knew about yourself.

Now, as you returned back home at last, you knew you had to have him, or you feared you might just lose it.

He was everything a girl.. like you, could want right now. Old, brooding, mysterious, and so fucking hot.

So as you hopped over to him where he stood in his front lawn, you made sure to hug him tight and make sure he could really feel that you weren't wearing a bra. You knew he was looking already, so why not let him feel it?

He hesitated for a moment - probably struggling with his boner which you swore you could already feel - before bringing his arms around you and clapping you on the back.

“I missed you so much, Mr Miller.” You hum sweetly, looking up at him through your eyelashes. His own eyes almost flutter shut at the name you chose to use for him, and he manages to choke out a soft missed ya too, darlin’.

That darlin’ would be enough to make you come tonight.

Your dad finally turns around after unloading your luggage and turning the car off, greeting Joel before the two of you head to your house.

-

The next day, it's Christmas Eve. Dinner rolls around, and you check over your makeup one more time. You don't want it to be too much - it would look weird, considering it was only Joel coming over (your dad was a solitary creature) - but you still had to look good for him.

The doorbell rings and you almost trip down the stairs. “I'll get it, dad!” You yell, and he thanks you, completely unaware of your motives.

You open the door, biting back a smirk when Joel immediately looks you up and down, only just managing to tear his eyes away from your chest.

“Hi, Mr Miller. It's so good to see you.” You smile sweetly.

“Hi, sweetheart… told ya y’dont have ta call me that. Joel's fine.” He says softly, eyes still a little hazy.

You step back to let him inside and immediately take one of the beers he'd brought over once he sets the case down.

“Y’old enough to drink that, honey?” He teases, mind finally out of the gutter for now.

“I'm 21 in like.. a month. It's fineeee.” You smirk, tipping your head back and taking a big swig, showing off the long column of your neck and the swell of your breasts.

His mind is back in the gutter.

Your eyes are off him for now, so he allows him to drink in the sight of you properly. A silly Christmas hat atop your curled, gorgeous hair; red sweater tight around your breasts, little candy-canes dotted around it; your skirt, far too short and he's almost certain you're teasing him now, tights underneath making him want to rip them clean off of you. Your makeup looks perfect, red lips which he knows would look perfect around his cock, mascara which he can picture smudged and ruined from tears and sweat while you fuck-

“Joel, y’made it! Cmon, sit with me.” Your dad grins, and Joel's eyes widen. What the fuck is wrong with him? He cannot be thinking that way about you.

He shakes his head, muttering something to himself before going to sit with your dad.

-

Joel finally thinks he'll have some reprieve from your incessant teasing, letting out a tired sigh as he sits on the couch, your dad on the armchair.

“Tired already, old man?” Your dad teases.

“You're older than me, asshole.” Joel grunts, earning him a chuckle.

Just then, you appear in the doorway. Of course, of-fucking-course, you'd decide to watch TV with them tonight. It's soccer, for Christ's sake, you'd always get bored out of your mind and run upstairs to go on your phone whenever the game was on.

Not today though, much to Joel's dismay.

“What're you watching?” You ask, sitting beside Joel. He tries to mask his discomfort.

“Just soccer hon, I know you don't like-” your dad starts, but you quickly cut him off.

“No, no! It's fine. I'll try watching it tonight.” You smile softly, and settle in to watch.

You clearly get bored after about 5 minutes, sighing softly.

“You really find this interesting?” You murmur to Joel, now having made yourself comfortable on his shoulder. He tried to make himself as stiff as possible when you first lay on him, but you were persistent as always, and he just gave in.

“Ain't nobody forcin’ you to watch it.” He argues, and you keep quiet after that, eventually getting up to go get the food ready.

-

Dinner is yet another trial for Joel. You've gotten just as frustrated and impatient as he is, it seems.

Leaning in front of him when serving the food, giving him a clear view of your tits. Not to mention you never serve food, set the table, but all of a sudden you're acting like little miss helpful today.

‘Accidentally’ dropping a cup and bending over in his eyeshot to pick it up.

Sitting beside him at the table instead of with your dad.

When your hand moves to his thigh, he bolts upright, earning him a look from your dad.

“Bathroom,” is all he can get out before he's rushing upstairs.

“Fucking kid. Thinks she can fuckin’.. pull all this shit with me.. thinks she can act like this in front of her dad.. fuck me.” He mutters to himself, despite undoing his belt and pulling his cock out, barely stifling his groan when he spits on his palm and starts tugging at his length so fast it's almost painful.

His mind conjures up all sorts of unholy images, and he's on the brink of release when- “Mr Miller,” you coo, knocking on the door. “is everything okay? You've been gone for like 10 minutes. Was it something in the food?”

He's so angry, so pent-up, he wants to pull you in here and just fuck that goddamn attitude out of you.

He's deathly silent, flushing, turning on the sink as he pulls his pants up, blue-balled like he'd never been before, and exiting the bathroom.

“Everything is fine.” He grits out, fists clenched as he walks past you. You eye his bulge and smirk before practically skipping down the stairs.

“He said everything's fine, daddy.” You smile to your dad, and he almost collapses. He swears he sees god for a second.

That word coming out of your mouth should absolutely not turn him on like it just did - but it did.

The rest of dinner, he's almost silent, just gulping down beer and chewing on his now cold turkey. You don't try anything with him, actually a little afraid he might just get up and leave.

Instead, you wait until the movie.

Your dad puts Die Hard on, and after a lengthy argument about whether or not it even counts as a Christmas movie, - you insist it's not and will carry that with you to the grave - you settle beside Joel.

Joel thinks he's made it through the worst of the evening, but then you shiver. You shiver again, and then you pout, and he feels obliged to ask.

“Are you cold?”

“Yeah.. can I have some of the blanket?” You whisper. Your dad is practically falling asleep in the armchair.

He goes to hand you the blanket, and you, devious as ever, put it over both of your laps, cuddling up to Joel even more.

He's on full alert right now, stiff as a log, waiting for your next game.

The movie goes on, and then your hand creeps under the sheet. Moving from the side, to your own lap, to his arm, then to his leg-

“What're you-” he grunts, but you just shush him.

“I'm trying to watch the movie, Joel.” You huff, as if your hand isn't on his cock right now.

His eyes are darting between you, the screen, his lap under the blanket, and your dad. Way too much is going on, and as you start palming him, he lets out the most pained groan. He sees you biting your lip and he's so angry, so horny, he doesn't know what to do with himself.

Your dad suddenly wakes up, and the bubble pops. You pretend you're asleep on Joel's shoulder, and you know you've won when Joel tells your dad to just go on up, that he'll make sure she gets to bed.

As soon as your dad's bedroom door shuts, Joel grabs your jaw, glaring at you.

“Exactly what the fuck do you think you're doing, little girl?” He spits, and you giggle softly.

“‘m not doing anyth- ow, Joel!” You whimper when he squeezes your cheeks together.

“You gonna tell the truth now? Gonna answer me properly?” He says, tone and eyes cold as the ice on your driveway.

You nod, trying to stifle your whimper. He eases the grip on your jaw, still holding it, before asking you again.

“What do you think you're doing?” He says through clenched teeth, and you know he's not fucking around anymore.

“I.. I just..” Fuck it, you may as well shoot your shot, otherwise what was the point of everything tonight anyway?

“I wanted you to fuck me, Joel.”

Creak goes the step at the top of your staircase, and you squeak, jumping off the couch as Joel pulls the blanket and a pillow over his lap. You rush upstairs past your dad, hurriedly bidding him goodnight before slamming your door.

“Just came to grab my phone. Everythin' alright..?” He asks, brows furrowed at your skittish behaviour.

Joel nods, and your dad leaves him alone.

His cock has been throbbing for hours. So long that it's actually painful. But now he can't do anything. You and your dad are upstairs, you'll be asleep in 5 minutes, and Joel will just have to pretend it's your pussy wrapped around his length when he fucks his fist in the guest bedroom tonight.

-

Guilt gnaws away at him as he cleans his come off of his hand and stomach, tossing the tissues into the bin before changing into some sweats and managing to fall asleep after half an hour of tossing and turning.

The world seems to hate him, since he wakes up at 2am, heading to the bathroom only to walk past your bedroom and hear you moaning. He can't make out what you're moaning - but he has a good idea - and he's thankful your doors are quiet when he opens the one to your room.

You're facing away from the door, legs spread, face in your pillow as your hips buck, fingers working your pussy furiously.

“Joel, Joel, fuck-” you gasp, whimpering as you get close.

Fuck this.

If he didn't get to come for the entire evening, you did not get to come right now.

He walks over to you, morales abandoned, and growls your name.

You squeak, biting your lip as you turn and look at him. You'd been so close, but now you're too petrified to finish.

“Joel, I-”

“Not another word.”

It's the last thing he says before he flips you back onto your stomach, pushing your head down into the pillows.

“You're gonna be a good girl and shut the fuck up while I fuck this needy pussy. You understand me?”

You part your lips to reply, earning a spank to your ass.

“Can't fuckin’ listen, can ya? No talking, baby.”

You nod, whimpering as he pushes your head back down and pulls your soaked panties off, tossing them onto the floor.

“Fuck, look at her. Drippin’ for me, ain't she? Didn't know you were such a slut, babygirl.” He teases, knuckles dragging along your slit, and you cry into the pillow, hips bucking back against his hand.

Another spank, making you moan, trying to stop your hips from bucking once more.

“You take what you're fucking given. Do you understand me?”

You nod, having learnt from your mistakes.

“Good girl. Knew you could listen for me.” He coos, before he's thrusting two of his thick fingers into your dripping heat.

You gasp and whine, moaning his name into the pillow, almost tearing your sheets with how hard you grip them.

“That's right.. moan my name. Fuckin’ slut.” He grunts, head ducking down to tease your clit with his tongue. You almost lose it, starting to clench hard and fast around his fingers. You're right on the edge when he pulls away.

“Joel!” You practically sob, deflating as your orgasm drifts away.

“Shh, shh. You thought you could tease me all night and still get off? Y’thought wrong, honey.” He coos, mocking, pulling down his sweatpants and slicking up his cock with your wetness, giving you no warning as he starts to push in.

“Ohh, fuck. Knew you'd be tight for me, baby. That's it, good girl.” He groans, bottoming out. He allows you to cry his name into the pillow, but when he starts really fucking you, it gets too much.

He pulls out to the tip before slamming back into you, making you almost scream, back arching and hips bucking - unsure if you want him to get out, or fuck you even harder.

He decides for you, starting to pound into you. The only sounds in the room are your broken moans, his heavy breathing, and the rhythmic slapping of skin on skin.

“Joel- Joel- pl-please I'm gonna come- please Daddy-” you moan, and his hips stutter before he's pulling you up by your hair, his back to your chest when he resumes his aggressive thrusts.

“Shut- the fuck- up.” He pants in-between thrusts, and you whimper, brows drawing together as you get close. He starts rubbing your clit and you see stars, unable to stop yourself from coming.

“Fuckfuckfuck yes, yes daddy- oh my god-” you sob, before he's pulling out and manhandling you onto your back, thrusting back inside to the hilt, palm covering your mouth.

“You better shut up right now unless you want your real daddy to wake up, find us here like this-” you curse silently when you clench around him at the thought - what is wrong with you?

“Oh, you like that? Dirty fucking girl. Such a slut for daddy, huh?” You clench tighter at that, and his thrusts speed up, pace irregular. “Yeah, you fuckin’ like that.”

His hand leaves your mouth and you cover it yourself, not wanting to anger him anymore.

“‘s okay, baby.” He murmurs, taking your hand from your mouth and leaning down to kiss you. As he does, his hand goes to your clit, and you moan loudly, muffled slightly by the kiss, as your back arches off the bed and you come so hard you see stars, setting off his own release and making him groan, biting your shoulder as he fills you up.

It's quiet for a moment, save for your shared panting, before he pulls out.

“Fuck, honey..” he murmurs, watching your shared fluids dribble out of your cunt, gathering them up on his fingers and pushing them back into your tight hole.

“Made such a mess, didn't we?” He says softly, brushing your hair away from your eyes as you giggle softly, nodding.

“That was so good.” You whisper, and he nods, gathering you up in your arms.

“Joel, you can't stay in here-” you mutter, confused.

“Just relax, honey. I'll leave in the mornin’. Just let me hold you for now.”

You're utterly perplexed, but you're definitely not complaining, swallowed up by his warmth and drifting off within a minute.

-

The next morning, you're opening presents, and you bite your lip when he reads his card from you. At the bottom, you'd added - come to my room afterwards for the second part of your gift - and when he comes upstairs afterwards, it's safe to say he doesn't leave for a good hour.

Dividers by @adornedwithlight <3

Thank you sm for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Have a good Christmas everyone!! ❤️

[stylesispunk]

"Unholy christmas" day 3/3

outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: After spending months wandering outside in the wild, you and Joel find safety inside the gates of Jackson just around christmas. A confession and a kiss lead to other things and you wake up wrapped around each other's arms.

wc: 4,5k

warnings: fluff, mentions of smut and no proofreading at all, sorry my head hurts.

a/n: welcome to the third and last day of my joel's fic christmas version event. This one didn't turn out as i planned but is still cute. (my personal favorite was merry christmas, please call me) thank you so much for being here and reading and I wish you all a merry christmas, i hope you all have a beautiful night either if you spend your night with other people or alone. happy reading and merry christmas 💌♥️🌲

You couldn’t believe your eyes the first time you stepped inside Jackson. How the gates creaked open, or how the snow crunched beneath your boots as you and Joel made your way. A town in the middle of the hell you had faced felt almost surreal. After months of wandering through the wilderness, living on edge, Jackson felt like stepping into a dream, all decorated and bathed in warm lights, strings of Christmas decorations you thought you would never see again.

As you made your way inside, Joel glanced at you, his rugged features softening for just a moment when he took a glimpse of your awe expression. Something inside his heart felt at peace for the first time in months.

He had put you through so much during this time. Dragging you through the danger and fighting just to kept you both alive, and doing terrible things just for him to allow you to see another sunrise. He didn’t regret the things he had done for keeping you safe, not for an instant, but when the weight of it all bore down on him. When you were sleeping clung to him at night and he’d lie awake, watching the firelight flicker against your face, wondering if you would be better off without him.

But what would it be of him without you?

Your existence overwhelmed him. In a way his heart would stop beating the second your gaze locked with his. In a way his breath caught up his throat when you held his hand or simple touch him when sleeping.

It terrified him how much you had become a part of him, how much he depended on the sound of your voice to lighten the weight on his shoulders, or how your simple presence was enough to silence the worst of his thoughts. His chest ached whenever your gaze locked with his, the world narrowing to just the two of you.

He felt alive and vulnerable all at once, and it scared him. But what scared him more was the idea of losing you.

Without you, the hollow emptiness he had spent years suppressing would swallow him whole. He had fought so hard to keep you alive since you gave him something to fight for.

And now, looking at you smiling at the big Christmas tree in the middle of Jackson, he felt whole.

He stayed rooted in place for a moment, his breath caught in his throat as he drank in the sight of you. How could someone like him, a man who had done unspeakable things, deserve to stand by your side? But he couldn’t bring himself to pull away, not when you looked at the tree with the kind of joy he thought was lost forever.

“Joel?” Your voice broke his thoughts, soft and questioning as you turned to face him.

He cleared his throat and stepped closer, the snow crunching beneath his boots. “Yeah? You okay?”

You nodded, a small, wistful smile tugging at your lips. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I can’t remember the last time I saw a Christmas tree.”

Joel’s gaze flicked to the tree for a moment before settling back on you. “Yeah, it is.”

Joel opened his mouth to say more, but the sound of approaching footsteps on the snow made him pause, breaking the moment between the both of you. You both turned to see Tommy and Maria approaching, their faces lit with warm smiles.

“There you two are,” Tommy said, his tone teasing. “Figured we’d find you here.”

Maria stepped forward, her eyes flicking between you and Joel. “We’re heading over to the hall for dinner. Thought you might want to join us.”

You blinked in surprise, glancing at Joel before looking back at Maria. “Dinner?”

“Yeah,” Maria said with a nod, her smile widening. “The community does it every year around Christmas. Everyone pitches in—food, music, decorations. It’s a nice way to celebrate together.”

Joel shifted beside you, his hands tucked deep in his jacket pockets. He glanced at you, silently asking what you wanted to do.

“That sounds… nice,” you said after a moment, the idea of a communal dinner feeling strangely foreign after so long on the road. “We’d love to join.”

Tommy clapped Joel on the back. “See? Told you it’d be good for both of you to settle in a little.”

Joel grunted something under his breath, but his gaze softened as it lingered on you. “All right,” he said. “Lead the way.”

The walk to the community hall was short, the warm glow of lights spilling out through the windows guiding your way. Inside, the hall was alive with the buzz of conversation, the smell of roasted food, and the soft strum of a guitar from one corner.

As you followed Tommy and Maria to the community hall, the air around you felt festive, filled with laughter and the warm glow of lanterns strung along the path. The hall itself was bustling with life, long tables set up with trays of food and steaming mugs of cider. People greeted each other warmly, their voices blending into a symphony of holiday cheer.

You and Joel stepped inside, your eyes taking in the scene. For a moment, it was overwhelming—the sheer normalcy of it all after so many months of survival.

Maria nudged your arm gently, pulling you from your thoughts. “Grab some food and find a spot,” she said with a smile. “Tommy and I will join you in a bit.”

You nodded, glancing at Joel, but he was already being pulled away by Tommy, who had clasped a hand on his shoulder and steered him toward a group of familiar faces.

“I’ll catch up with you,” Joel muttered, throwing you a quick glance before disappearing into the crowd.

You made your way to the serving table, piling a plate with roasted vegetables and slices of bread before settling at a spot near the corner of the hall. From there, you could see Joel easily.

At first, it was endearing to watch him interact with Tommy. It reminded you of how hard he had fought to came here in order to be reunited with him all over again. And it was endearing, the sight of him, relaxed, the rare ghost of a smile playing on his lips. But as the minutes passed, your gaze lingered longer, drawn to the way people seemed to gravitate toward him.

Women. several of them.

They approached him with bright smiles displaying on their lips. Some were close to his age, others younger, their faces lighting up as they introduced themselves or leaned into a conversation with him. Joel, ever the gentleman he was, nodded politely, his deep voice lost in the noise of the room.

You knew Joel wasn’t the type to encourage attention, but the sight of him surrounded by all these women, some of whom placed a hand on his arm or laughed a little too loudly at something he said, sent a nagging feeling creeping into your chest.

You had never had felt the feeling of sharing before, it has always been you and him.

Until now.

You tried to focus on your food, but your appetite had vanished. The hall, went from feeling warm and inviting, to feeling suffocating. You told yourself it was nothing, that Joel was just being polite, but the tightness in your chest didn’t ease.

And you felt alone as if you were a burden Joel had to carry with him because he didn’t have the heart to left you behind.

Your gaze dropped to the table, your fingers toying with the edge of your plate, but what did you expect? Joel had done so much for you, had carried you through hell, he had brought you to a safe place where you would be able to live a life again.

The nagging feeling twisted into something sharper, something you didn’t want to name. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but your eyes drifted back to Joel, now leaning slightly as another woman spoke to him, her hand lingering just a second too long on his forearm.

You set your plate down, your appetite gone completely. For the first time since arriving in Jackson, you felt an urge to leave, to escape somewhere else.

The sight of Joel, so effortlessly blending in and laughing softly at something Tommy said, nodding politely as the women around him vied for his attention, made you feel like an outsider looking in.

And then it happened.

Joel’s gaze found yours across the room. His expression softened, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corner of his lips. It was the kind of smile you rarely saw from him, one that seemed reserved just for you.

For a fleeting moment, the world quieted, the knot in your stomach loosening ever so slightly. But as your eyes scanned the room, taking in the familiarity shared between the townsfolks you felt it again. That foreignness. Like no matter how hard you tried, you’d never quite belong here.

Joel might. He was already starting to, even if he didn’t realize it yet. The way people looked at him, sought his attention, told you he could find a place here, a life.

But you? You weren’t so sure.

The thought settled heavily in your chest, and before you could overthink it, you pushed your chair back and stood.

You didn’t look back as you walked out of the hall, the cold night air biting at your skin as soon as you stepped outside. The muffled sounds of laughter and conversation followed you briefly before fading as the door swung shut behind you.

The town was quiet, the snow under your boots crunching softly as you wandered aimlessly. The lights strung along the houses glowed warmly, but they only deepened the ache in your chest.

You stopped at the edge of the main street, your breath visible in the cold air. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you stared up at the sky, the stars barely visible against the glow of the town.

The crunch of snow beneath your boots was the only sound accompanying you as you wandered, drawn toward the faint glow of the Christmas tree in the center of town. It stood tall and proud, adorned with twinkling lights and ornaments that glittered like tiny stars.

As you reached it, you came to a stop, the cold biting through your coat, but you barely noticed. You gazed up at the tree, and a flood of memories washed over you, brief, fragmented flashes of a childhood long gone.

A living room dimly lit except for the glow of a tree like this one. Laughter, faint and warm, as presents were unwrapped. The scent of pine and the soft hum of a Christmas carol your mother used to hum under her breath.

You wrapped your arms tighter around yourself, a lump forming in your throat. That world felt like it belonged to another life, to someone else entirely. The woman standing here now, hardened by years of survival, couldn’t reconcile with the girl who once giggled over snow angels and stockings by the fireplace.

Joel stepped outside, the cold air biting at his skin as he scanned the bustling streets of Jackson. It wasn’t like him to let things go unsaid, especially not when it came to you. He’d noticed the way you pulled away, your silence heavier than usual. He could feel the weight of it, pulling at him, gnawing at him.

You inhaled deeply, your breath shaky as it clouded in the cold air. This was why you felt out of place here. Jackson was built on hope, on community, on remnants of a world you weren’t sure if you were going to fit into.

He’d watched you slip away from the warmth of the hall, your figure disappearing into the night. Without a second thought, he followed. He couldn’t let you disappear into the night like that, not when something was so clearly eating at you.

The snow crunched beneath his boots as he made his way toward the glow of the Christmas tree. The town was quieter now, the hum of conversation and laughter fading as he walked through the streets, searching for you.

He found you standing under the towering tree, your face lit by the soft, flickering lights. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of you, so small against the backdrop of the glowing tree, lost in thought. Your gaze was fixed on the ornaments, the lights reflecting in your eyes, and for a moment, he just watched you.

His chest tightened, and he swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. He couldn’t stand to see you like this, so distant, so detached from the world around you. It was like you were still trapped in the past, somewhere far away from here, far away from the safety of Jackson and everything it had to offer.

“Hey,” he finally called out, his voice low but steady.

The sound of Joel’s voice startled you, low and rough but unmistakable. You turned to find him standing a few feet away, his broad frame silhouetted against the glow of the Christmas lights. He was breathing hard, like he’d been searching for you.

“I wondered where you ran off to,” he said softly, his eyes scanning your face.

“I just needed some air,” you replied, your voice quiet.

He stepped closer, his boots crunching in the snow, until he was standing beside you. His gaze flicked to the tree for a moment before settling back on you.

He stepped closer, his boots crunching in the snow, until he was standing beside you. His gaze flicked to the tree for a moment before settling back on you. “Didn’t mean to leave you alone there”

“Don’t worry.” you said quickly, but even to your own ears, the words felt hollow.

Joel's brow furrowed slightly, sensing the distance in your voice. He could see it in your eyes, the same unease, the same weight that had been there all night. Something was pulling at you, and he could feel the space growing between you both, even as you stood so close.

“I know you don’t like crowds,” he said, his voice softer now, as if trying to tread carefully around your thoughts. "But you don't have to be alone, not here."

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat refusing to go away. "I just... need to figure things out."

Joel turned his body to face you more fully, his expression open but intense. He wasn’t going to let you pull away from him, not now. He reached out, gently brushing his fingers along your arm, his touch warm against the chill of the evening.

"Hey," he said, his voice steady. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve been thinking,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

His brow furrowed. “About what?”

You hesitated, glancing back at the tree. “About us. About how maybe it’s time for me to… move on. Find my own place here. I don’t want to be a burden to you anymore, Joel. You’ve done so much for me already-”

His jaw tightened, and before you could finish, he cut you off. “Stop.”

You blinked, startled by the firmness in his voice.

"I think it’s time we go our separate ways," you said softly.

Joel froze, the words slicing through the cold air. "What?"

You looked down, unable to meet his gaze. "I’ve been thinking about it for a while. You’ve done so much for me, Joel. You got me out of the QZ, kept me alive out there...but I know I’m just a burden. You don’t have to keep looking out for me. Tommy can find me another place."

He stared at you, stunned. "You think I’m tired of you?"

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. "Aren’t you?"

Joel closed the distance between you in two strides, his hands gripping your arms gently, but firmly enough to make you look at him. "No," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "I ain’t tired of you. Not even close."

You blinked, caught off guard by the intensity in his tone. "Joel, I just don’t want you to feel like-"

"Like what?" he interrupted, his jaw tightening. "Like you’re something I have to put up with? You aren’t. You’re the one thing that makes this goddamn world a little easier to stand. Don’t you dare think I’d ever want you gone."

Your breath hitched, his words sinking in. The way he was looking at you, like you were the only thing that mattered in his life, made your heart ache.

"Joel?" you asked, your voice trembling. "Why would you want me to stay? I don’t… I don’t bring anything to the table."

He exhaled sharply, his thumb brushing over your sleeve. "You bring more than you’ll ever know. You keep me sane, keep me fighting. You’re the only thing in my life that feels right."

The lights from the Christmas tree flickered behind you, casting soft patterns across his face as his voice softened. "I need you, baby. And if you ever think about leaving again, you tell me first. I’ll set you straight."

You let out a shaky laugh. "You really mean that?"

Joel’s lips twitched into a faint, crooked smile. "Damn right, I mean it."

Before you could overthink it, you leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his torso. He held you close, his chin resting lightly against the top of your head.

Joel pulled back just enough to look down at you, his hands still resting on your arms. His eyes softened, a quiet intensity behind them that made your heart skip. The flickering glow of the Christmas lights reflected in his gaze, but it was the warmth in them that held you still.

He tilted his head, his voice barely above a whisper. "You’re not going anywhere."

Before you could reply, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours as if asking for permission at first, as if testing the waters. The world seemed to stand still as his hand moved to cup your cheek, his thumb gently grazing your skin.

The kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, carrying a quiet desperation that told you everything he couldn’t put into words. He was telling you that you were his world, that you were his, that he needed you as much as you needed him.

When he finally pulled back, his gaze lock with yours, his breath mingling with the cold night air. His voice was rough, almost a whisper. "You understand now? I don’t just want you here. I need you here. With me. We are a team."

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you smiled, your hands resting against his chest. "Okay, I promise I won’t go away from you.”

He closed his eyes briefly, relief washing over his face, before pressing another kiss to your forehead. Then, he went all over for your lips again, this time deeper, as if he wanted to imprint this moment on his heart forever. His hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, drawing you closer, while his other arm wrapped securely around your waist.

You melted into him, your fingers clutching his jacket as if to anchor yourself to the only steady thing in your chaotic world. The cold air nipped at your skin, but you barely noticed, lost in the warmth of his skin, of his presence, on the way his lips moved against yours, the way he held you like he never wanted to let go.

When the kiss broke, you both stayed close, breaths mingling in the frosty air. His thumb brushed your cheek, his gaze soft yet unreadable.

“Come on,” he murmured, his voice low and warm, “let’s get you back inside before you freeze.”

You nodded, but your hand found his, intertwining your fingers as he led you to the house. The walk was silent, but the tension between you was electric.

Inside the house, the fire burned the room dimly lit by the soft orange glow of the embers between the both of you. Joel shut the door behind you, his eyes lingering on you as you removed your coat. There was no space for words now, just the unspoken language that pull you back to him.

He crossed the room in two strides, his hands finding your waist, his lips meeting yours again with a quiet urgency. You let him guide you toward the bed, his touches careful, his gaze searching yours for permission every step of the way.

You gave it to him, silently, your hands slipping under his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips that almost felt like they burn, his breath hitched, but he didn’t stop, he couldn’t. Not when you were looking at him with those puppy eyes that made him feel like he was your biggest treasure.

That night, the world outside didn’t exist anymore. It was just you and Joel, tangled together beneath the blankets, your mingled warmth chasing away the cold. Every touch, every kiss, every whisper of his name felt like a promise you didn't dare break.

Later that night, the room was dim, only the crackling of the fire providing light. You could feel his breath on your skin, slow and deliberate, as if he was savoring the taste of you, every moment with you leaded to this and his hands moved with a gentleness that surprised you, as if he was treating you like something fragile, precious he has promised himself he would protect.

But there was nothing fragile about the way you felt. With him, there was strength, a connection that ran deeper than anything you could put into words. You felt it in the way he held you, in the way his body responded to yours. It was raw, but it was also tender, and that combination left you breathless.

You pulled him closer, your fingers tracing the lines of his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your touch. You wanted to show him how much he meant to you; how much you needed him in this moment.

Joel’s lips found yours again, but this time, the kiss was slower, more conscious. It was a silent plea, an exchange of everything you couldn’t say aloud. You didn’t need words. You had each other, and that was all that mattered.

When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath coming in short, soft bursts. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low and rough, a faint hint of concern threading through his words.

You nodded, your hands slipping into his hair, tugging him back down to you. “I’m more than okay,” you whispered, taking his lips on yours again.

But Joel’s voice broke the kiss as he pulled away slightly, his hands lingering on your hips before he stood, turning toward the small table in the corner of the room. “I, uh... I got you something for Christmas,” he said, his voice rougher than usual, but there was something softer behind it.

You blinked, surprised. Christmas hadn’t really felt like Christmas since the outbreak, and you hadn’t expected anything, certainly not from him. As he turned his back to you, his broad shoulders and his muscles in his bare back caught your attention. He was a picture of raw strength, but in that moment, you saw something else in him, vulnerability, tenderness, and a depth of care you hadn’t expected from the man who had carried so much loss during his life.

Your chest tightened as a strange, overwhelming sense of clarity washed over you. It was like everything had all led to this. To this moment, with him. You didn’t need anything else. You didn’t need a world full of certainty or things that made sense. With Joel, every simply made sense.

He reached for something on the table, a small wrapped box that was too carefully wrapped. His fingers lingered on the edges of the paper before he turned back toward you. His expression was unreadable, though there was a small, almost shy smile on his lips.

He stepped toward you, the firelight casting a warm glow on his face, illuminating the lines and scars on his temple. When he stopped in front of you, he held the gift out, his eyes meeting yours, softly “It ain’t much,” he muttered, “but I thought... I thought you deserved it. I got a while ago but since we’re here and we can celebrate Christmas again, I feel like I can give It to you.”

You took the small box from his hands, feeling the weight of it in your palm. Your heart skipped a beat as you met his eyes, seeing the love in them, the thought behind his gesture. It was so simple, so genuine, that it took your breath away.

You slowly unwrapped the box, your hands trembling just slightly as the soft paper fell away. Inside was a delicate silver necklace, the pendant a small, simple heart with intricate engravings along its edges. It caught the firelight, glimmering softly, and something inside you fluttered as you held it in your palm.

Joel watched you, his gaze soft but intense. He seemed to be holding his breath, waiting for your reaction. You could tell it meant something to him, something more than just the gift itself.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep the emotions from flooding your voice. “Joel...” you whispered, your fingers tracing the edges of the pendant. “It’s beautiful.”

His face softened, the corners of his mouth curling into a quiet smile. “I saw it a while ago,” he said, his voice low, almost uncertain. “Thought you might like it. And... I didn’t know when the right time was, but I guess now felt right. This... this is for you to carry me with yoy everywhere you go.”

You felt the warmth of his words seep into you, settling in your chest as your heart pounded. This wasn’t just a piece of jewelry; it was a symbol of the quiet love he had for you, the love that had been building ever since you had met in the ruins of the world.

Your eyes lifted from the necklace to his, you cupped his jaw, feeling his breath catch as your lips met his again, soft at first, but deepening as the world around you seemed once more. It was just the two of you, lost in each other, breathing each other in.

When you finally pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, your chest heaving with the emotions swirling inside you. “I didn’t get you anything,” you murmured, the guilt creeping into your voice.

Joel’s hand brushed through your hair; the soft gesture meant to comfort you. His eyes met yours, the warmth in them determined. “It’s okay,” he said, his voice low, steady. “You’re here. That’s all I need.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips, but then he leaned in, his voice softer this time, laced with something tender. “But, uh... Can I call you love?”

His question caught you by surprise, but it also made your heart skip. The simple, honest sincerity in his eyes made your chest ache with affection.

“Love?” you echoed, testing the word in your lips. It felt strange and foreign, but in his presence, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

He nodded, his gaze earnest. “Yeah. If that’s alright. That would be a gift for me, for now” he clarified, smiling at you.

You felt the warmth of his words wrap around you, making your heart flutter with a mix of emotions. The sincerity in his eyes made the world feel smaller, like everything was finally making sense.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you gazed up at him. “You can call me love.”

A smile stretched across Joel's face, his eyes softening with joy. He leaned in again, this time his lips capturing yours with a tenderness that made everything feel right. The kiss was deep, filled with the promise yet to be written, and as you pulled away, your heart ached with a love that had been growing between you, unspoken, until now.

Joel gently guided you back onto the bed, his hands roaming over your body with a careful urgency. You felt his warmth radiating from his body as he settled beside you, his chest rising and falling with each breath. The room was silent except for the crackling of the fire, but in that silence, everything spoke.

You pressed your cheek to his chest, your hand splayed across the warmth of his skin, feeling his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. It was a beating you could now call yours, a melody that you caused.

“Merry Christmas to me, then, I guess,” he murmured, his voice thick with affection as he pulled you closer. His body felt like a shield, protecting you from everything that had ever threatened to tear you down.

You smiled, nestling into him even more, your own fingers tracing patterns along his skin. “Merry Christmas, baby.” you whispered back, feeling more alive, more complete than you had in years.

In the quiet darkness of the room, wrapped in his arms, with the world outside frozen in time, you knew this was where you were meant to be.

And that was enough. The world could wait. Tonight, it was just the two of you.

[reginyani]

College Lecture | s.reid x reader

summary: the behavioral analysis unit are guest speakers for your college class, but one particular agent catches your eye

cw: season4!spencer, reader is flirtatious, year of 2009, possibly use of inaccurate technology for the year, college reader, usage of Y/N

wc: 864

authors note: the only way to promote fics on tumblr is to reblog, so please do so if you enjoyed! once again very short, but once again i'm very tired..

It was a cold winter morning, with snow falling on the college campus when Professor Coleman made a surprise announcement. The Behavioral Analysis Unit was going to visit the class that day. It would be a special lecture, with an example case that the students could interact with. You never expected to be in the same room with the highest unit in the FBI, let alone receive a lecture from them. With your interest in serial killers and forensic psychology, this lecture was a dream come true.

The hall buzzed with anticipation, and all the students were eager to finally have interesting guest speakers. As the lecture began, the team of agents introduced themselves. The unit chief, SSA Aaron Hotchner, Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi, Penelope Garcia, and Dr. Spencer Reid...

You were drawn to him. The way he spoke was shy and awkward, but his intelligence more than made up for it. Every time words left his mouth, you were captivated, almost as if he was hypnotizing you. Although the attractive agent was a distraction, you tried focusing on taking notes and listening to everyone speak.

You had many questions about the subjects and the example case, but you sat back and listened, observing the dynamics of the special guests. No matter how hard you tried to focus on the lesson, your mind and eyes kept wandering back to Spencer Reid.

The class ended in a blur. Everyone crowded around, hoping to catch a moment with the highly skilled profilers, which they did, but you stayed seated. When the students finally cleared out, you stood up, your plan now set in motion.

As Spencer tried to follow his team out the door, you stopped him. "Dr. Reid," you called, your voice light but loud enough for him to hear from a distance.

He quickly stopped walking and turned around, offering an awkward smile. He cleared his throat before speaking. "Yes?"

"I was hoping to get a moment with you. My names Y/N, and I have some follow-up questions about the lecture. May I?" You tilted your head slightly as you asked for his time, smiling. His cheeks flushed a little in nervousness, and his body stiffened slightly.

He opened his mouth, taking a moment to respond. "Yeah—of course," he said, still a bit caught off guard. His voice was barely above a whisper, as if he were scared to say the wrong thing.

You both moved aside, and you began asking your questions. You started off with some technical questions about profiling, making sure to keep things professional. He answered with his usual ease, but you could tell he was focused on you more than anything else. His eyes occasionally dropped to the ground, and his lips still wore that awkward, yet charming, smile.

"Doesn't your job take a psychological toll on you or your team? I mean, how do you deal with being around all that... darkness?" The question was sincere, and it seemed to catch him off guard. He furrowed his brows, studying you for a while before responding.

"Well, you're not wrong. It does, sometimes. But with a team, it’s a bit easier to handle. We sort of all look after each other. But honestly, books help me more than they do," he joked, chuckling a little. "I also like to play chess sometimes. It helps me relax and think."

You nodded, taking in his words. This was your opportunity. "Chess, huh? I've always wanted to learn how to play. Maybe you could teach me sometime?"

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw the hesitation. "I... uh... sure, yeah, I could teach you. I can't say I'm totally pro though."

You smiled, knowing your plan had worked. "Maybe we can exchange numbers? That way, we could set up a time to meet," you paused for a moment, taking out your phone and smirking. "and practice."

Spencer's mouth hung open, unsure whether to accept the offer. He blinked rapidly as he thought, noticing the shift in your energy. "Okay. Yeah, that... that sounds good. You can... put your number in here." He handed you his phone, and you type in your number and quickly save it.

"Thanks! Text me so we can set up a time," you said as you started walking away. "Bye, Dr. Reid."

You exited the room, and a few seconds later, Spencer did as well. He was then met by Emily and Derek, who raised their eyebrows at him. "Mind if you teach me some lessons?" Derek teased, and Emily laughed.

"Shut up!" was all Spencer could say as the team started walking out of the building together.

Later that night, Spencer sat on his bed, contemplating whether to text you. It’s not very professional, he thought. But his fingers didn’t follow that approach. He typed in your name and quickly wrote a message.

"Hey Y/N, what time would you be available for us to meet?"

He quickly sent the message, putting his phone away completely waiting for the vibration that you had responded. He didn't have to wait long though, as he felt one almost exactly a minute later.

"I'm free this Saturday, you?"

tags:

[fluentmoviequoter]

Lonely Christmas

hot cocoa bar celebration🧤❄️🎄 | requested here

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!Army vet!cop!reader

Summary: During a Christmas Eve night shift with Tim Bradford, you glimpse what is behind his tough exterior.

Warnings/Word Count: vague depictions of veteran-specific depression, brief angst, Tim yells at r, fluff and comfort. 1.1k+ words

A/N: This is a dynamic (Tim with a partner who was also in the Army) that I've had on my mind for a while. While this is a really fast-paced blurb-like fic specific to Christmas, I'd really love to write more of this pairing if anyone is interested. Sorry for the short length but I really wanted to get it done before Christmas Eve🫶🏼

Working the night shift on Christmas Eve feels like the opposite of a Christmas miracle. The long night is made worse when you’re partnered with Tim Bradford. He’s had something against you since you joined the department after leaving the Army. Though you’ve never spent more than a few hours with Mid-Wilshire’s grumpiest officer, you know he doesn’t like you, so you decide to stay quiet and obedient to make Santa’s job – and your own – a little easier tonight.

“Merry Christmas,” you greet as you enter the passenger seat of Tim’s shop.

Tim huffs, and you set a small treat bag of cookies from a nearby bakery in the console without a word.

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

“Is Christmas Eve usually hectic?” you inquire.

“Depends on the year. Based on the last few weeks, I’d say it’ll keep us busy.”

You nod, then inquire, “Any plans for Christmas tomorrow?”

“Nope. Heads up, grey Challenger.”

“I’ll run the plate,” you offer, secretly wishing you were in a sleigh rather than a shop.

“VA Hospital reported a disturbance,” dispatch radios. “Two armed men forced their way into a room and have barricaded themselves in with equipment.”

“Responding,” Tim replies. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” you inquire softly.

“Try to twist this into some merry Christmas thing. We’re vets, we know there are plenty of people like us spending the holidays alone, grieving for those we’ve lost, and I don’t need you to make this specific slice of reality any harder than it already is,” Tim snaps. “So, let’s deal with this call like it’s not Christmas and move on.”

As your shift comes to an end, with the brutal reminder that lonely people go to extremes even during the holidays and several emotional bruises from Tim snapping at you more than often, you try to remind him that he is not alone. Over the last few years, you’ve learned to take Tim’s attitude and swings from helpful superior to the short-tempered Bradford the station knows him as in stride.

Walking through the station to return to your lonely home, you’re surprised to hear Tim call your name. You turn to face him, and he pulls his backpack strap tighter against his shoulder. It’s nearing midnight, almost Christmas, and you’re expecting one more reprimand to conclude the all-but-perfect night shift.

“Do you want to come over for dinner?” he offers. “My sister dropped off a casserole this afternoon.”

“Dinner at midnight?” you clarify with a grin. “I’d love to. Only if you’re sure, I don’t want to impose on you on Christmas.”

“I’m free for the next few hours.”

You follow Tim out of the station and tip your head in thanks after he opens the passenger door of his truck for you. The ride to his house is quiet, only the low humming of instrumental Christmas music filling the space as Tim navigates the quiet (for once) streets of Los Angeles.

“What are you doing for Christmas?” you ask as you enter his home.

“Going to visit my sister and nephews for lunch and gifts,” he replies. “You?”

“I’ve got a few people to see.”

Tim nods and begins preparing the food. You start to speak simultaneously, and your expression of gratitude is cut short when you smile. “Go ahead,” you murmur.

“I wanted to apologize for earlier,” Tim begins. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you about the vet in the hospital. It just… it reminded me of one of the guys in my last unit. Seeing people like us struggling around the holidays is hard, but you know that, and I had no excuse to yell at you like that. So, I’m sorry.”

“I do know that, but I can also understand that your response is valid. I probably would have overstepped, and honestly I’d rather you yell at me before I can do something that pushes you away rather than letting me do it and suffer the consequences.”

Tim’s brows pinch as he asks, “And what do you think the consequences would be?”

“Let’s just say I would hate to end up on the Bradford Naughty List.”

Tim’s face shifts into a smile as he shakes his head, and you grin at him before offering to get plates for dinner.

Something shifts beneath your cheek, pulling you from a peaceful slumber. You don’t sleep well most nights, and for a moment, you think Christmas magic lulled you to sleep. Then you realize that the fabric under your face looks awfully familiar. Sitting up, you press your lips together as you watch Tim blink and look at you. You remember eating dinner side-by-side and watching a rerun of It’s a Wonderful Life. You had no intention of falling asleep together, or in his house, for that matter.

“You look your cutest like this,” Tim rumbles, his voice thick with sleep and concerningly unfiltered.

“But I just woke up,” you argue.

Tim nods, his full attention on you, and states, “I know what I said.”

“I- I should probably go. You have your family to visit. Merry Christmas, Tim, and thanks again for dinner.”

While you gather your things, Tim watches your movements from the couch.

“Why do you care so much?” he asks.

“About what?” you ask, looking up from your bag.

“Me, people… You tried to make last night feel like Christmas. Why?”

You shrug. “Everyone deserves some magic, and there’s no better time than Christmas. And, as for you… I have an idea of what it’s like. I do know that it’s not easy, and though I can’t imagine what you’ve dealt with specifically, you haven’t let it keep you from seeing the good in people. Even if you don’t let on that you do.”

“I see the bad too.”

“Job hazard. Despite seeing that bad side, you still let people close. That’s why I care about you, because you’re a good person.” Tim opens his mouth again, and you add, “That last point was objective, it’s not up for debate.”

“Do you want to stay?” Tim asks after a moment. “You shouldn’t be alone on Christmas, either.”

“Your family,” you remind him.

“I’m sure they have an extra plate,” Tim teases.

You gesture to your outfit and slept-on hair, but Tim stands and lays his hands on your shoulders.

“I already said you look your cutest like this.”

“Thought you were incoherent and half-asleep.”

“But don’t I see the good in people?”

Your head falls back as you groan. Tim offers to drive you home to let you get ready, and you realize that you wouldn’t mind spending Christmas with him and his family. Even if he yells at you and calls you cute mere hours apart. It’s part of his Tim Bradford charm.

[whizzing-fizzbee]

Girls' Night

Sebastian Sallow x F!OC

Summary: Emmeline Alexander plans a girls' night for Anne Sallow and their friends at the cottage in Feldcroft, but her best friend and crush Sebastian insists on crashing the party. In other words, MC (Emmeline) and Sebastian take advantage of the Silencio spell in Sebastian's bedroom after a night of playing Never Have I Ever. Rating: Explicit 18+ (Minors DNI) Themes: Friends to lovers, slumber party, sleepover, girl talk, smut, romance Word count: 7,568 Notes: Every time I sit down to write my chapter fics, I accidentally write some nonsensical smut. Oops.

Characters are all seventh years and 18 years old. MC is an original female character named Emmeline Alexander.

Part 1 is clean, Part II has all the smut. Both can be found on AO3 or below the cut.

Part I: Girls' Night

Nightfall was reaching Feldcroft as Emmeline Alexander approached the quaint hamlet. She was tired from a long day of studying, but had decided to fly her broom there from Hogwarts. The fresh air was good for her and gave her some time to relax before what was sure to be a boisterous night.

Once she touched down, Emmeline made the familiar short trek to that same cottage – the one she’d been visiting regularly for over two years. Now, the cottage was larger – the handiwork of some transfiguration spells and charms she had mastered in the Room of Requirement. The home had two floors and separate bedrooms now, and she’d even added some flower boxes to the windows with simple, yet pretty landscaping outside.

It felt like home. In many ways, it was her second home.

The lights inside the cottage were on and Emmeline could hear joyous laughter and voices inside. She grinned to herself with anticipation as she knocked.

The door swung open and she was surprised by the first face to greet her.

“Sebastian?” she said stupidly.

“How nice to see you, too,” the freckled 18-year-old replied. He grinned at her and Emmeline felt her stomach flip. 

“Emmeline!” Anne Sallow, Imelda Reyes and Poppy Sweeting waved from their seats around the dining table inside. 

Emmeline moved to enter the home but was blocked by Sebastian, who held an arm across the threshold to prevent her from entering. “Wait,” he said, his lips forming a smirk. “You have to answer a security question.”

“Security question?” Emmeline repeatedly stupidly. “Seb, it’s me.”

“A likely response from an imposter,” Sebastian quipped while Anne, Imelda and Poppy giggled.

Emmeline sighed at the frivolity of it all. Clearly the group had already opened the firewhiskey. “Fine,” she sighed. “What’s the question?”

“Who was your first crush at Hogwarts?” Sebastian asked.

“Why is that the question?”

“Because the answer’s funny.”

Emmeline sighed again. “Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

“Fine. Ominis,” Emmeline muttered quietly. 

“Who?”

“Ominis Gaunt.”

The group inside roared with laughter as Emmeline shoved her way past Sebastian, tossing her satchel on the floor once inside.

“Bastard,” she mumbled. Sebastian threw an arm around her and pulled her in for a sideways hug. 

“You know you love me,” he teased before Emmeline shoved him away.

“I’d love to be rid of you,” she sneered. “Besides, isn’t this supposed to be a girls’ night? Why are you here?”

“Don’t worry, darling, I’ll be out of your hair soon,” Sebastian said. “I’ll retreat to my room so you lovely ladies can do whatever it is you do.”

“Why aren’t you at Hogwarts?”

“Because it’s the weekend and all of my favorite people are here… except Ominis, but I reckon he’d appreciate a break from me,” Sebastian said.

“I’d appreciate a break from you too,” Emmeline huffed. “Especially after that stunt you pulled at breakfast this morning.”

“That was an accident, darling. I didn’t know the goblet was going to explode like that.”

Emmeline rolled her eyes and slinked past him to take a seat at the table with her other friends. She was quick to pour herself a glass from the firewhiskey bottle that sat on the table.

“Where’s Natty?” she asked as she reached for a handful of pear drops from a bowl.

“She’ll be here any moment,” Poppy answered. “She was having dinner with her mum.”

“And Nellie?”

“She’s not coming. She had a date.”

Emmeline’s eyes widened with curiosity. “With whom?”

“Everett.”

“Clopton?”

“Do we know another Everett?” Sebastian chimed in from the sink where he was cleaning dishes. Emmeline turned to glare at him.

“Excuse me, but I do believe this is supposed to be a girls’ night,” she chided. “These conversations are not meant to include you.”

Imelda and Poppy shared a glance, their understanding mutual. It was going to be a long, albeit entertaining night with Sebastian and Emmeline egging each other on. It was the nature of their friendship, and neither could help themselves.

But despite their ceaseless banter, Emmeline and Sebastian were incredibly fond of each other, carrying a close bond that traced back to the start of their fifth year. Since then, their lives became irrevocably intertwined, woven by the threads of adventure, trauma and mutual secrets.

They were inseparable most days, except when Sebastian inevitably said or did something foolish. He provided an edge that contrasted Emmeline’s poise, an amusing juxtaposition to all who had the privilege to sit back and observe the tandem. 

What neither of them could admit, though, was that their bond, no matter how unyielding, wasn’t quite enough to satiate either of them.

A brisk knock at the door signaled Natty’s arrival. Sebastian answered it again and offered Natty a much more hospitable welcome than the one he’d given Emmeline.

“Why doesn’t she have to answer any security questions?” Emmeline demanded.

“Because she is trustworthy,” Sebastian said, flashing an innocent grin. Emmeline shot him a glare, which only seemed to bring him more glee.

The five girls settled in around the table, catching up on their latest life updates. Though Emmeline, Imelda, Natty and Poppy saw one another daily at Hogwarts, Emmeline had taken it upon herself to ensure Anne wouldn’t feel left out. She knew Anne missed Hogwarts and her friends, especially now that it was their seventh year, so she arranged a slumber party to bring some cheer to the Feldcroft cottage.

“Natty, how was dinner with your mum?” Emmeline asked.

Natty sighed. “Not good,” she replied. “My mother doesn’t like the idea of me dating Eric.”

“Why not? Eric’s nice,” Poppy said.

“She doesn’t think Eric has enough ambition,” Natty explained. 

“Well they can’t all be Slytherins,” Emmeline laughed.

“Too true!” Anne laughed.

“And they can’t all be Leander, who still seems to think he’s going to be a world-renowned duelist,” Poppy muttered.

Emmeline offered her a sympathetic smile. “He’s still on about that?” she asked.

“More than ever,” Poppy sighed. “It’s rather insufferable, really. Makes me wonder if there’s something wrong with my head for fancying him.”

Meanwhile, Sebastian listened to their conversation with fascination as he pretended to dry dishes in the kitchen. Sure, he knew girls had these kinds of discussions, but they usually chose their words carefully or withheld certain details when boys were around. He felt like they were providing him with some kind of answer sheet that could help him crack the code to what it was that women actually wanted. 

“Leander always means well,” Emmeline continued. “Sometimes it comes off a bit obnoxious or paltry, but his intentions are always good.”

“I wish I knew what his intentions are with me,” Poppy sighed. “He’s all over the place. Anyway, I guess I should be patient with him. He may be delusional at times, but at least he has ambitions.”

“Eric does have ambitions, though,” Natty sighed. “He’s very brave and has a good head on his shoulders. He just isn’t sure what he wants to do after Hogwarts yet. I told my mother he’d figure it out and find a good job, but she doesn’t seem convinced.”

“She’ll come around,” Emmeline assured. “She’s just being a protective mother. She just needs to get to know him a little more.”

“I hope that’s true,” Natty said. “I really like him.”

“He really likes you too,” Imelda noted. “I overheard him singing your praises to Weasley in Potions last week. You know, before the class had to clear out because of Garreth’s rogue potion.”

“Speaking of Garreth,” Poppy giggled. “I heard you had to let him down easy, Emmeline.”

“What?!”

The five girls jumped at the sudden intrusion, turning to stare at Sebastian, who had been listening intently from his spot near the sink.

“Will you mind your business?!” Anne chided.

“Weasley asked you out?” Sebastian asked, his gaze fixed on Emmeline as he ignored his sister’s scolding.

Emmeline furrowed her brow at him, still taken aback by his sudden outburst. “What, is that so hard to believe?” she demanded. 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Sebastian replied. He was fortunate he was standing with one side turned away from the group of girls, because a vein in his neck threatened to expose just how irritated he was. “I’m just surprised, is all. Didn’t know Weasley had it in him.”

“Well I told him thanks but no thanks,” Emmeline said, still eyeing Sebastian suspiciously. “I like Garreth but he’s not my type.”

“And what is your type?” Imelda asked. “Judging from your past dating history, I’m not sure you have one.”

Emmeline paused. It was true, the boys she’d gone out with were all quite different from one another. Her first crush at Hogwarts had been Ominis, which all of her friends gleefully reminded her of much too frequently for her liking. She had fancied him because he was noble and composed, yet just playful enough to avoid being deemed too stuffy. But that crush had been fleeting as she and Ominis became close friends, and Emmeline’s affections were replaced by the other member of their trio, who was just the right amount of daring and incalculable she adored.

Then there was Amit Thakkar, who had been incredibly romantic and sweet, but not quite adventurous enough for her. There was also Andrew Larson, who intrigued Emmeline with his artistry and creative spirit, but was also too keen on staying indoors and out of trouble.

Emmeline had agreed to a handful of Hogsmeade visits and informal dates with other boys in her year, but none had reached more than one or two outings before she offered some excuse, usually that she was too busy to date.

In truth, Emmeline’s preoccupation had little to do with her schedule and everything to do with the only boy who had never pursued her. 

She and Sebastian teased, flirted, even made suggestive remarks not suitable for most platonic friendships. They spent most of their free time, meals and classes together, far too often even for best mates. They shared secrets, musings and inside jokes that no other ears would ever hear, but they remained unaware that their biggest secret was mutual.

“I guess Garreth is just too… superficial for me,” Emmeline finally said with a shrug. “Don’t get me wrong, I like him. He makes me laugh and he’s always fun to hang out with, but I can’t recall ever having one deep or meaningful conversation with him in the two-and-a-half years I’ve known him. I want someone who makes me laugh but also makes me think.”

“But didn’t you say Amit was too deep for you?” Imelda pointed out.

Emmeline sighed. “There’s no such thing as too deep,” she said. “Amit was just too… philosophical. He was always trying to apply some underlying meaning to everything. It was just too much for me. Sometimes, I think things just happen because that’s how life works. There’s not always any rhyme or reason to its occurrences. That said, I also enjoy reflecting on how life shapes us.”

“I’m not sure you’re ever going to find someone who offers you that right balance of perception and candor,” Natty laughed. 

“Maybe you need to stop dating so many Ravenclaws,” Sebastian, who had been hanging onto their every word, chimed in.

“What’s wrong with Ravenclaws?” Emmeline demanded, turning to glare at him.

“They don’t match your sense of adventure,” Sebastian replied simply. “They’d rather bury their noses in books than use their wands.”

“Says the bloke who owns more books than anyone I know,” Emmeline said.

“There’s nothing wrong with a thirst for knowledge,” Sebastian said smoothly. “But what’s the point in all that knowledge if you aren’t going to apply it to the real world?”

Emmeline couldn’t argue with that. It was precisely why she and Sebastian had become best friends. He was smart, yet daring enough to keep her guessing. Sure, that recklessness had nearly destroyed their lives at one point, but Emmeline had been patient and understanding with Sebastian as he worked to repair his past mistakes. Since that fateful fifth year, he had proved to her that he was remorseful, and Emmeline’s fondness for her friend morphed into something much heavier.

But she would never admit that, nor did she want to discuss her dating history with him. Instead, she retreated to her best defense – the wit and snark that masked her fear of ever confessing her feelings.

“And what’s the point in having a girls’ night when you’re here?” she retorted.

Sebastian responded with a smirk. “You love me.”

“I’d love to murder you.”

“Murder?” Sebastian drawled. “Such violent thoughts from such a tiny, little thing. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Careful, Sallow,” Imelda laughed. “We’ve all seen what she can do to you in a duel.”

“And I went easy on you last time,” Emmeline added.

“You’re anything but easy,” Sebastian shot back. The room fell quiet, Emmeline’s eyes growing wide while Poppy’s mouth fell open. Sebastian regretted his words instantly, knowing damn well the girls would giggle about them and dissect them later. 

Imelda, ever the bold, mouthy one of the group, was the first to bark a laugh. “You two are something else,” she said, shaking her head. Emmeline also shook her head in an attempt to appear unbothered by Sebastian’s jeer.

“Say, I have an idea,” Anne said, her eyes carrying an impish gleam. “Let’s play a game. Sebastian, you can play too if you want, considering you’re practically one of the girls.”

“Hey now!”

The girls giggled but Sebastian made no attempt to leave the room. Instead, he finished drying the final dish – the same one he’d been “drying” for the past 20 minutes – and placed it away inside a cupboard, tossing the dish towel on the counter before he pulled a chair up to the table between Anne and Emmeline.

“Fine. Since you ladies clearly insist on my presence,” he said smoothly. “What’s the game?”

“Let’s play Never Have I Ever,” Anne said innocently. She flicked her wand, another bottle of firewhiskey sailing from a cabinet until it landed neatly on the table with a soft thud. Anne flashed a grin at the circle of friends. “We’re going to need this.

Part II: Never Have I Ever

“Never have I ever bailed on detention.”

“Poppy, have you even had detention?” Sebastian laughed. The group echoed him with a warm chuckle, a signal that the firewhiskey was in full effect.

“Precisely why I’ve never bailed on it,” Poppy said proudly.

Sebastian and Natty both drank from their glasses, sparking another round of giggles.

“Of course,” Anne mused. “Sebastian’s skipped more detentions than he’s snogged girls in broom cupboards, which is really saying something.”

“And how would you know about my broom cupboard escapades?” Sebastian demanded.

“I know everything,” Anne answered, gesturing to the ring of friends around them. “I have eyes and ears everywhere.”

“More like eyes and ears in the form of a certain quidditch captain,” Sebastian muttered, shooting a pointed glance at Imelda, who straightened in her chair with a smug smile.

“Someone has to keep your sister informed on your everyday life,” she said. “Merlin knows you’ve had enough extracurriculars to entertain us all.”

Emmeline was decidedly quiet throughout the exchange. Of course, she knew of Sebastian’s illicit activities. He had become the talk among most of the girls at Hogwarts, particularly since the start of their seventh year when it had become clear that Sebastian was more of a man than a boy. Now 18, Sebastian’s features were much more handsome than cute, though he still clung to his boyish charisma.

Though Emmeline wanted to fling herself from the top of the Astronomy Tower every time she heard a new rumor about Sebastian and his latest fling, she typically kept quiet on the matter. Despite all the secrets they shared, she and Sebastian rarely discussed their love lives. It was the one element of their lives they chose to keep from one another.

Imelda’s turn came next. “Never have I ever snogged someone in a broom cupboard,” she cackled.

Sebastian groaned and took a drink. So did Emmeline.

“Who have you been snogging, and in which broom cupboard?” Sebastian demanded, setting his glass down with an audible bang.

“What’s wrong, afraid all the good cupboards will be taken?” Emmeline teased. Sebastian glowered at her, much to her satisfaction. “You aren’t the only one with secrets, Sebastian Sallow.”

Anne was the only one who noticed how Sebastian’s jaw tightened. She smiled to herself as she realized it was her turn.

“Never have I ever wanted to snog my best friend,” she declared boldly.

Imelda snorted as Sebastian and Emmeline both froze, rather noticeably. Everyone else sat, their drink glasses untouched, leaving the pair to glance nervously toward one another. Finally, Emmeline sat back and folded her arms across her chest for emphasis. 

“No one?” Anne asked innocently. “Someone here must be lying.”

Emmeline averted her eyes while Sebastian stared at the table as if it had suddenly transformed into the most interesting book he’d ever read. The silence that settled over them roared with implication evident to everyone but Sebastian and Emmeline.

“Well, I suppose it’s my turn,” Sebastian finally said, shooting an annoyed glance at Anne who smiled innocently. Sebastian thought for a moment, his eyes flickering toward Emmeline for a fleeting second. “Never have I ever used Polyjuice to impersonate a headmaster.”

Emmeline gasped at his audacity, provoking a chortle from Sebastian. “I swore you to secrecy on that!” she hissed.

“It was two years ago, might as well have a good laugh about it now,” Sebastian said. He reached in front of Emmeline to nudge her drinking class closer to her. “Go on now, drink.”

Emmeline huffed at him before taking a sip. “Bastard,” she muttered before she was forced to recall the time she broke into Headmaster Black’s office. When she finished the story, she turned her head slowly toward Sebastian for emphasis. His gaze matched hers as he tried to appear unbothered, but Emmeline knew him too well. And he knew her too well, meaning he sensed payback was brewing.

She cleared her throat for dramatic effect. “Never have I ever worn my sister’s dress.”

The room paused in silent shock as the other girls processed Emmeline’s words. Finally, a burst of laughter erupted and Sebastian’s cheeks tinged red as he took a drink.

“That was one time!” he insisted, which only provoked more laughter from the girls. “I was drunk!”

Emmeline leaned back in her chair, her eyes glinting with satisfaction as Sebastian was forced to retell the time he drank too much the previous Christmas in Feldcroft and got into Anne’s wardrobe.

“In my defense, Ominis and Em were the ones egging me on,” Sebastian huffed.

“My only regret is not taking a photo to remember the moment,” Anne laughed. “Not that I could forget it if I tried.”

“Always knew you had a kinky side to you, Sallow,” Imelda teased.

The game carried on for several more rounds until the group’s drunken antics had Poppy slumping in her seat. She nearly toppled backward in a fit of giggles at something Imelda said, stirring concern from Sebastian and Emmeline, who were the most sober.

“Poppy!” Emmeline shouted as the chair tipped dangerously. “Maybe you should lie down for a bit.”

Sebastian checked his pocket watch. “It’s nearly two in the morning,” he said. “Perhaps we should all get some sleep.”

Emmeline nodded in agreement as she helped Poppy from the chair, using her wand to conjure five sleeping bags on the living room floor. 

“Oh, are you and Sebastian sharing a bag?” Imelda pestered. Emmeline rolled her eyes and eased Poppy to the floor to help her inside a sleeping bag. 

“As much as Sebastian would probably love nothing more than to sleep in a room surrounded by 18-year-old women, he has a room of his own,” Emmeline replied as Poppy curled up sleepily. 

“Wouldn’t want you ladies fighting over who gets to sleep next to me,” Sebastian drawled.

Imelda heaved a sound of disgust as she helped Natty, who was also quite inebriated, into a sleeping bag. 

“Emmeline, please do something about your boyfriend,” Imelda ordered.

“He’s not my boyfriend! He disgusts me just as much as you do!”

“Oh please, the two of you have been verbally edging each other all night. Get a room. Just make sure you use a silencing charm,” Imelda teased.

Sebastian chuckled at the girls and headed toward the staircase.

“Goodnight, my darlings!” he called before he disappeared up the stairs to retreat to his bedroom.

Emmeline slipped down the hallway to change into her pajamas before walking a lap around the cottage’s first floor, extinguishing the lights. She climbed into a sleeping bag next to Anne, who was just settling down herself.

“Thank you for planning this evening,” Anne said. Emmeline rolled onto her back, the dim cottage falling quiet except for Poppy’s light snoring.

“Of course,” Emmeline said. “I’m glad we got to have a fun girls’ night. Or girls’ night plus Sebastian.”

Anne giggled. “He just can’t help himself, can he?” she laughed. “Always has to be the center of attention.”

“I think he just likes to be included in things,” Emmeline noted, her voice falling quiet as her eyes scanned the ceiling, where she knew Sebastian was sleeping overhead. “Ever since you and Ominis let him back into your lives, he’s made it a point to spend time with you. Doesn’t want to take you for granted.”

“I know,” Anne replied softly. “I’m glad he’s worked so hard to change. And I’m glad he has you, you know. Maybe he doesn’t admit it, but you’re just as important to him as Ominis and me.”

Emmeline let out a gentle laugh. “I’ll continue to give him the dignity of believing I don’t know that. Even if the moron doesn’t deserve it.”

Anne giggled in acknowledgement. She listened to Imelda’s breathing change next to her, indicating she had also fallen asleep. 

“I really am glad you didn’t give up on him, after everything that happened, after what he did,” Anne said quietly. “I like to think your support was what kept him from breaking.”

“He’s a good person, one of the best I know,” Emmeline responded. “He shouldn’t have to spend the rest of his life paying for what he did when he knows how wrong it was. He deserved a second chance and I’m always going to support that.”

“He deserves a good punch in the face sometimes, too,” Anne muttered, drawing a giggle from Emmeline.

“That, he does,” she agreed. 

The pair allowed silence to settle over the room until Anne suddenly shivered.

“Are you cold?” Emmeline asked, sitting up to peer at Anne through the darkness.

“Just a little,” Anne replied. “It gets rather drafty in here.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to just sleep in your own room?” Emmeline asked. “I know you wanted to do the whole slumber party thing, but it seems silly for you to sleep here on the floor when you have a perfectly comfy bed upstairs.”

“It’s girls’ night,” Anne insisted. “I want to spend time with my best girl friends.”

“At least let me fetch you another blanket,” Emmeline said, rising to her feet.

“There’s one upstairs on my bed,” Anne answered. “Oh, and there’s a second one in the closet in Sebastian’s room.”

Emmeline paused. “You need both?”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Anne replied innocently. Emmeline nodded and crept carefully, tiptoeing around the other sleeping girls toward the staircase.

She stopped in Anne’s bedroom at the top of the stairs first, gathering a quilt from the bed before continuing down the hallway toward the last door. It was slightly ajar but the lights were out, causing her to linger in hesitation.

She stood quietly, listening carefully for a sign that Sebastian was still awake. The only sound she could hear was the snores from the living room below.

“Sebastian?” she finally whispered as she gently shouldered the door open. She poked her head inside, squinting to peer at Sebastian. He was under the covers, seemingly fast asleep.

She tread quietly toward the closet door, where she found another quilt folded on the top shelf. She stood on her tiptoes to reach it and gently pulled it downward, tucking it beneath an arm.

Sebastian stirred quietly, but didn’t react. Emmeline retreated slowly toward the door, holding her breath as if any more noise would be disastrous.

Suddenly, one of the blankets caught beneath her foot and pulled as she stepped. Emmeline stumbled, her footsteps pounding loudly on the wood floors before she finally lost her balance and toppled over with a thud.

“Who’s there?!” Sebastian sat upright, one hand fumbling over the nightstand for his wand.

“Shh! It’s me! Sebastian, it’s me!” Emmeline hissed, still sprawled out on the floor.

“Em?”

“Yes!”

“What the hell are you doing in here?”

“I was getting another blanket for Anne!”

“And you entered my bedroom unannounced?”

“You were asleep!”

“What if I’d been doing something private?”

“Ew! Were you?”

“No! I was sleeping!”

“Then what’s it matter?”

“This is my bedroom!” Sebastian squinted through the darkness as he tried to make out Emmeline’s form. “Why are you on the floor?”

“I tripped.” Emmeline managed to untangle herself from the heap of blankets and climb to her feet as Sebastian found his wand. 

“Lumos!” The tip of his wand cast a warm light throughout the room, revealing Emmeline standing about three feet from the door. She couldn’t help but sneak a double-take as she realized Sebastian had been sleeping shirtless.

Sebastian swallowed. Emmeline’s pajamas revealed much more skin than he’d been accustomed to seeing from her, the neckline of her top dipping dangerously low across the tops of her breasts. He’d never seen her in her sleep attire before, their separate Hogwarts houses keeping them apart at night. Besides, whenever he pictured her in bed, she was wearing far, far less.

Meanwhile, Emmeline took in Sebastian’s tousled hair and sleepy eyes. She hated how enticing he looked, even in such a vulnerable state. 

“Uh, are you okay?” Sebastian finally asked.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Okay. Is everyone else asleep?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

As the room fell quiet, Emmeline willed her feet to move. Instead, she remained rooted to her spot, as if she were looking for a reason to linger.

Sebastian watched her curiously, his own brain searching for an excuse to keep her there. “Boy, Poppy’s quite the lightweight, isn’t she?” he finally said with a soft laugh.

“She sure is,” Emmeline giggled. “To be fair, she weighs about a fraction of the rest of us.”

“I didn’t realize she was so enamored by Prewett,” Sebastian continued. Emmeline shrugged.

“I suppose you learned quite a bit from crashing girls’ night, didn’t you?” she mused.

“Positively enlightened.”

“Anything you care to share with the class?”

Sebastian masked his hesitation with a smirk. Though he didn’t consider himself to be drunk, firewhiskey had never been his friend. He’d had a fair amount that evening and it was making it more difficult than ever to quell the tightness in chest that could only be traced back to Emmeline.

Seventh year would be over before they knew it and Sebastian feared their friendship would vanish too. Emmeline was set for a position within the Ministry of Magic’s Department of Mysteries, where she hoped to become an Unspeakable. Sebastian had a position laid out for him as a cursebreaker with Gringotts. He was excited for those possibilities but terrified adulthood would drive a wedge between him and the one person he couldn’t envision a life without.

“I didn’t realize you had such high demands for your romantic partners,” he finally teased.

Emmeline narrowed her eyes at him, her lips parting in shock. “I am not demanding!” she hissed. “You take that back!”

Sebastian sat back against the headboard of the bed with his arms crossed. “Point proven,” he said smugly.

A loud snore echoed through the cottage and Sebastian couldn’t help but bark a laugh. “Was that Poppy?” 

“I think that one was Imelda,” Emmeline replied as another snore cut through the room. “It’s going to be a long night.”

“Here,” Sebastian said, scooting to one side of the bed. “Just sleep here. I’ll cast a silencing charm to take care of the snoring.”

Emmeline’s hesitation was clear as she stood, her feet frozen in place as  Imelda’s earlier teasing came to mind. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to join Sebastian in bed – she had daydreamed of that particular scenario more than she’d ever admit – but it was the implication, the expectation, and most of all, the temptation of what it meant.

“Come on,” Sebastian said. “I don’t bite. Unless you’re into that sort of thing. Besides, it’s not really all that different from all the times you’ve slept on my shoulder while studying.”

But it was different, and Sebastian knew it. The two of them sharing a bed in his cottage, away from the confines of the Hogwarts castle and all its propriety, would absolutely be different – especially when he wasn’t sure how he could possibly keep his hands to himself when Emmeline was next to him looking like that .

“All right, fine,” Emmeline sighed, the spare quilts forgotten on the floor. She moved slowly toward the bed, sliding next to Sebastian who still had his wand lit.

“Silencio,” he said, the room falling dark and quiet. “There, that’s better.”

Emmeline nodded quietly as Sebastian tossed his wand back on the nightstand to settle in beneath the covers. She swallowed as she fought to maintain gentle and light breaths, her chest rising as her body betrayed her. She was certain Sebastian could hear her heartbeat hammering against her ribcage.

Next to her, Sebastian was having the same thoughts. He could smell her shampoo, light and floral, and if he moved any closer, his hand would brush the silkiness of her pajamas. He wondered how that fabric would compare to the softness of her skin, or dare he think it, the velvet feel of her…

“Sebastian?”

“Huh?” Sebastian was pulled from his sinful thoughts.

“I asked if you’re alright,” Emmeline said. “You seem to be breathing heavily.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Just making sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine. You know, other than the fact you’re hogging all the covers.”

“I am not!” Emmeline huffed. She shoved the blanket toward Sebastian who merely chuckled. “It’s not my fault it’s freezing in here,” she said.

“It’s nearly 21 degrees,” Sebastian pointed out. “It’s plenty warm.”

“Not for me.”

“Fine, come here.” Sebastian hooked an arm around Emmeline’s waist and pulled himself closer to her as he nestled against her back. He instantly melted into her, but could feel her shoulders shift as she tensed. “This okay?” he asked, worried he had crossed a line.

“Mmhm,” she answered sleepily. “That’s better. You’re nice and warm.”

Sebastian relaxed a little and could feel Emmeline’s body do the same, though she was hyper-aware of the way his hand rested gently against her waist.

“Emmeline?” Sebastian asked quietly.

“Hmm?”

“Anne’s right, you know.” His tone was soft yet serious enough that Emmeline couldn't help but lift her head slightly from the pillow to hear him better. “I overheard the two of you earlier. What she said about you being just as important to me as her and Ominis… she’s right.”

Emmeline held her breath as he spoke and carefully mulled over a response. This was precisely what she had meant earlier when she said she wanted a romantic partner who could share meaningful conversations with her. Sebastian could be impulsive, even reckless at times, but he wore his heart on his sleeve and didn’t shy from saying how he really felt, even if it made him vulnerable to her. She always liked that about him.

“Well,” Emmeline started after drawing a shaky breath. “Despite your obnoxious eavesdropping, I meant what I said, too. You did deserve a second chance. You’re a good person and I’ll never stop having your back.”

Sebastian nuzzled the back of her neck gently, a bold move that made Emmeline’s breath hitch. “I like having your back for a change,” he murmured. He knew he was potentially risking everything – their friendship and her trust, but years of longing and suppression had become too unbearable to endure any further for him. He had to know if he stood even the slightest chance at the rare privilege it would be to touch her.

“You sure you wouldn’t be more comfortable in a broom cupboard?” she quipped.

“Sounds like I’m not the only one who finds them rather cozy,” he murmured into her ear, his breath warm against her skin. 

Emmeline knew him too well. She could sense the push in his voice, testing her to see how she’d react and how far she was willing to let him go. She decided that enough was enough – she had been drained by the past few years she’d spent practicing poise and self-control when it came to him, stifling all her impulses and redirecting her feelings to boys who would never measure up. If Sebastian was going to tempt her, she was going to ace his tests.

She whipped her body around so that she was facing him, startling Sebastian who tensed. She could feel it in the way he was subconsciously gripping her hip.

“Just curious,” she cooed softly. “Which broom cupboard is your favorite? Is it the one in the dungeons near the Slytherin Common Room? Seems like you might appreciate the convenience in location. I find that one a bit too snug to move around in, though. Perhaps you’re more of a fan of the cupboard in the North Hall, near the History of Magic classroom? That one’s nice and secluded, especially if you make a lot of noise.”

“Emmeline,” Sebastian warned.

“Personally, I think my favorite’s the little room in the Clock Tower Entrance,” Emmeline continued. “Ever been in that one? I showed that one to Amit after Crossed Wands once – we spent a good hour in there, but I don’t think he appreciated it as much as I did.”

Sebastian had to grit his teeth. He didn’t want to think about her doing those things with someone else, but the notion that she was willing and capable of them made him tense, particularly below the waist.

“So which is it?” Emmeline pressed. “Which is your favorite?”

“I like the one off the Reception Hall, near the kitchens,” Sebastian replied through clenched teeth. “Easy to get to and convenient if you work up an appetite.”

Emmeline’s eyes widened at his remark but her lips formed a seductive smirk. “Oh, I wasn’t aware of that one,” she purred innocently. “Perhaps someone will show me someday.”

“Perhaps.”

“Is it spacious? I don’t like when I have to stand the entire time.”

Sebastian sucked in a sharp breath. “Merlin, Emmeline. You’re killing me.”

“Whatever do you mean, Seb?” Emmeline asked, still feigning naivety.

“Stop making this so hard on me.”

Emmeline shifted, her hips pressing gently against Sebastian’s. “Oh, you weren’t kidding about the hard part.”

“I’m going to hex you.” Sebastian growled.

“Fine. Just wait until we’re done and make it worth my while.”

Sebastian was certain he had to be dreaming. Emmeline – his Emmeline, was practically throwing herself at him, daring him to take a chance. And Sebastian was a true Slytherin – ambitious, cunning and determined to get the things he wanted. He didn’t let chances escape his grasp.

He kissed her. He could feel the breath of air she sucked in through her nose when their lips met, her eyes fluttering shut as she returned it. Sebastian wasn’t sure what this would all mean come morning, but the hunger in her kisses made it clear that she wasn’t in the mood to worry about it.

Bed sheets rustled and hands grabbed at whatever skin was exposed. Hearts raced as both realized they were about to satiate their biggest fantasy. Sebastian’s hands roamed beneath Emmeline’s top, brushing over her stomach and down her sides until his fingers found the hem. He pulled away, his eyes heavy as he tugged the shirt upward. His lips found her neck, drawing a soft moan from her. 

“Seems I’ve found a sensitive spot,” he murmured against her skin. He left a trail of kisses from her neck to her collarbone, ending between her breasts.

The darkness made it difficult for Emmeline to see much, but she could certainly feel. Sebastian’s hands were everywhere, yet it still wasn’t enough for her. As she rolled onto her back, Sebastian paused to kiss her again, sparking more impatience from her. She could feel the familiar swell of heat that only happened when she thought of Sebastian late at night, alone in her bed, her own fingers forced to mimic Sebastian’s.

Emmeline lifted her hips as Sebastian tugged her bottoms off, followed by her panties. She silently praised whatever higher power was responsible for Sebastian’s impatience too.

Sebastian’s fingers dragged between her thighs, over her slick entrance. The moment was fleeting and she whimpered a plea for more. Sebastian obliged her as his index and middle finger made contact with her core again. He rubbed her until her breath became a heavy pant and her hips rocked upward demanding more. 

A loud moan carried through the room as Sebastian’s fingers disappeared inside her, the wetness immediately coating them. He curled a finger and Emmeline gasped, her submission making his cock stir.

“Fuck, Em. You’re so fucking perfect,” Sebastian whispered, his eyes roaming her body in the moonlight that poured through the window. 

“And you’re… overdressed.”

Sebastian flashed a smirk and moved to remove his own remaining garments, kneeling over Emmeline once he was rid of them. Emmeline couldn’t help but stare at his form. He was fully erect, the length of his cock proudly anticipating her touch.

She wasn’t sure how she was going to take all of it, but she was damn sure she’d die trying.

A groan escaped Sebastian’s lips as Emmeline gently took him in her hand, gently tracing from the base to his tip. He twitched, his arousal unlike any he’d experienced.

“Emmeline,” he breathed as her mouth engulfed him. He could feel her tongue flatten against his shaft, slowly running over every vein and ridge with deliberation. “Emmeline,” he repeated, his eyes squeezed shut. The sight alone of her lips wrapped around him was enough to nudge him to the edge. “I don’t think I can take it.” 

He hated that confession. As much as he loved this girl and would willingly follow any order she asked of him, his pride remained firm. He didn’t want her to think he was incapable of pleasing her, of lasting long enough to ensure she was good and finished. But this moment, this feeling, had consumed his free thoughts for so long, there was no way he could remain composed much longer.

Emmeline removed her mouth from him, her smirk indicating the satisfaction she felt from the power she clearly held over him.

“You may not be able to take it,” she said, eyeing his cock pointedly, “But I can.”

Sebastian decided she was going to be the death of him, but at least he’d die a happy man.

Emmeline straightened up to rest back on her heels, her eyes maintaining their challenging gaze. “What do you want me to do to you?” she asked, her voice husky with desire.

Sebastian chewed at the inside of his cheek. No girl had ever asked him that. It made his cock pulse. “I want you to do whatever’s going to make you moan my name,” he replied.

Emmeline couldn’t believe she was lucky enough to exist in the same world as Sebastian Sallow. 

“On your back,” she ordered. Sebastian, who typically preferred to be the assertive and dominant party in such situations, obliged. He was too eager to please, and to discover that sweet, supreme moment when she’d cry out his name and show him how she looked when she experienced ultimate pleasure.

As she climbed over him, her legs straddling either side of his torso, his hands snapped instinctively to her hips. His fingers gripped her tightly, drawing a shaky laugh from her. 

“Careful,” she mewed as she positioned herself above him. “Can’t have you leaving any marks.”

Before Sebastian could form a smart reply, her wet heat met the tip of his cock as she lined him up against her entrance.

“Fucking hell.” Sebastian exhaled slowly, his jaw and eyes clenched tight as he welcomed the feeling of her warmth stretching around him. She seemed to be moving at a glacial pace as she eased herself downward. 

“God, Sebastian,” Emmeline breathed. She had to still herself for a moment, her open palms resting against his bare chest as she stretched to accommodate him. She rocked backward slightly to straighten upward, the tiny movement forcing Sebastian to swallow.

“I love you,” he blurted out. If it hadn’t been for the absolute ecstasy currently coursing through his cock, he would have Avada Kedavra’d himself on the spot. Leave it up to him to say something so utterly stupid during the most exciting moment of his life.

Emmeline paused, her eyes wide with disbelief as her gaze met Sebastian’s.

“Really?” she asked.

There was no going back now. “Of course,” Sebastian replied, annoyed at himself for provoking a life-altering conversation mid-sex. “Hasn’t exactly been a secret these past few years.”

“Oh.” Emmeline held her position, stunned at the revelation, though the feeling of Sebastian lingering inside her was difficult to ignore for long. “Well, I love you too,” she finally said. “But given how I covered up a murder for you, stuck by you for two years and threw myself at you tonight, that shouldn’t be a secret either.”

“...Oh. Well when you put it that way…”

“Yeah.”

“Guess I should have told you then, huh?”

“Would’ve saved us both a lot of trouble, it seems.”

“Sure would have.”

“Hey, Sebastian?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we have this conversation later? As thrilled as I am to hear you finally confess your love for me, I’m going to spontaneously combust if you don’t shut up and fuck me.”

“Oh. Right.”

They shared a quiet laugh, but Emmeline’s eyes quickly darkened as her thoughts returned to a sinful state, the feeling of Sebastian’s tip pressing against the soft flesh inside her.

She moved slowly at first, rocking her hips up and down to ensure she’d found the spot. The moan that fell from her lips confirmed it, and Sebastian’s grip remained rigid on the flesh of her hip bones as if it were steadying him.

In truth, he was desperately fighting his own body’s response to the euphoric feeling Emmeline was creating for him. 

“Feels so good,” she panted as her pace quickened. Her eyes fluttered shut so she could focus on the sensations, which were building an inevitable wave of pleasure in her walls.

Sebastian could feel her wetness pooling at the base of his cock, her slick cunt gripping his shaft as she moved up and down. He wanted to move more, to show her how capable he was in the bedroom, but he was fearful he’d fuck himself into an embarrassing moment. He wanted to prove to her he was worthy of this privilege.

As Emmeline lifted herself upward again, Sebastian forced his own hips upward, evoking a surprised moan from her. He slammed himself inside her again, causing her to hover over him so that he could control their movements. He fucked her with determination, his cock railing against the spot that threatened to unravel her.

She could feel it building, sensed it ballooning in the form of a tiny twitch that would soon erupt into a full convulsion. “Don’t stop,” she begged through ragged breaths, her head tossed backward as the force of Sebastian’s thrusts made her breasts bounce.

“Sebastian, I’m going to-” She couldn’t complete the sentence as she heaved a cry, all of her weight settling down as she collapsed around Sebastian’s cock, her orgasm pulsating around him.

The sensation was new territory for Sebastian, her walls beckoning him with their quaking until a familiar throbbing coursed through his cock.

He released himself inside her with a grunt, the sensation prolonged as she continued to bounce on him to ensure they both were fucked to completion. When he had no more to spill, Emmeline stopped, her full weight still on top of him as she recovered.

“Bloody hell,” Sebastian breathed as the room returned to focus, the moonlight shifting from blurred lines to a sharp focus that shined a spotlight on Emmeline’s body still perched on top of him.

“All right?” Emmeline asked, her chest rising and falling as she panted.

“Never better.”

Emmeline managed to breathe a laugh before she climbed off of Sebastian, returning to her sleeping spot next to him.

Sebastian pulled her close so that he could appreciate the feeling of her sweaty skin, sticky yet warm.

“We should have girls’ night more often,” he mumbled happily.

In the living room beneath them, Anne pulled a blanket around herself, smiling as she drifted off to sleep.

[polaroidpascal]

i saw frankie kissing santa claus || joel & frankie

AO3 || MASTERLIST

pairing : joel x f!reader x frankie morales

summary : after everyone leaves your house for a holiday party, you find one straggler left behind -or- you catch frankie kissing santa claus joel

tags : M-18+, no use of y/n, everyone in this fic is bi bc i am too and i said so, joel in a santa suit, reader and joel have a little (big) crush on frankie boy, handjob, blowjob(s), face sitting, multiple orgasms for reader, orgasm denial, lots and lots of leaking (from all of them. im sorry.), one in the mouth one down south, sizes mentioned, cum eating, creampie, aftercare bc its essential and they are softies!!!

WC : 6k

a/n : merry christmas to everyone who celebrates!! six months since ive written anything at all and now i'm back with a christmas special LMFAO 😭 honestly, life has been a hectic hell since i last posted and i'm really happy i was able to actually finish something i started to end out the year 🥹 i hope everyone has a wonderful holiday season, and i hope i won't be as much of a stranger as i have been lately!! hope you enjoy this!! <3

“Oh, come on, Joel! People are gonna love it!”

“I am not putting it on, end of discussion, “ he said. You huffed a sigh and plopped down on the couch, Santa hat and suit in hand draping over your legs. 

For as long as you had been seeing Joel, you’d begged and begged for him to let you plan one of his company holiday parties only for him to tell you that he’d rather just treat the guys to a night at a nice bar. He’d always let you come along, of course, feeding you whatever fruity little cocktails you asked for to pass the night along.

Last year was… something else. That summer, the company was absolutely swamped with projects, meaning Tommy and Joel had to hire some more help to keep up. One of the new hires, Francisco, “Frankie” for short, outshone all of his peers. He was effortlessly helpful in ways Tommy and Joel hadn’t even intended him to be. Just in the 6 months he had been with the company, he had already (rightfully) climbed a little higher up the ladder to help with the more important decisions rather than just being an extra set of hands on site.

Every now and then, Joel would tell you something else about Frankie that made your heart flutter with gratitude that the extra help was finally letting off some stress that he always seemed to carry. When August had rolled around, the Texas heat reached an all-time high. One particularly hot day, you suggested that Joel invite Frankie over to swim and barbecue so you could finally meet him.

He was a big man, just like Joel. Sturdy frame and tanned skin, and the sweetest manners a man could have, greeting you with a gentle handshake and a kindly playful, “It’s nice to meet you, Joel’s always talking about you.”

You spent the day in the sun and shade, sipping drinks and dipping into the cold water to stave off some of the brutal heat. The backyard filled with laughter all afternoon until the sun had finally set, the last hoorah of golden rays draining from the sky.

“So—“ Joel grunted, settling in bed with you as you curled into his side, “what’d you think of Frankie?”

“He’s great,” you hummed with a smile, settling into Joel’s post-shower warmth. “I can see why you like him so much, he seems exactly like how you always talked about him.”

“Yeah, he’s… he’s somethin’. Ain’t like the other guys. Don’t have to tell him more ‘an once to do somethin’…”

You look up and see Joel staring into space, a glimmer of something else in his eye as he zones out.

A smirk slides into your cheek. “Mhm… kinda pretty too,” you tease.

“Huh?”

“He’s kinda… pretty. I don’t know.”

A ghost of a blush threatens to bloom across Joel’s chest as he shifts a bit underneath you. “Think he’s pretty, huh?”

“Well, yeah. Anyone with eyes can see that,” you giggle, propping up on one arm to fully face him. “Do you think he’s pretty?”

Joel stops, that once threatening blush beginning to spread a little more, a little darker. “Wh—?”

“Do you think Frankie is pretty?”

“Is this some sort of test or somethin’?”

“No, not a test. I just… you do realize you’ve been talking about him for months?”

“Well, he’s done real good for the company. Jus’ happy not to be so stressed all th’ time. You sure have been enjoying it.”

You chuckle and shake your head. “Well, yes. But that’s not my point. Been talking about him for months and he had you laughing all afternoon today.”

“That ain’t fair, he had you laughing too. Matter of fact, them little shrieks could’a woke up a bear in hibernation,” he joked, poking at your ticklish spots and making you recreate those shrieks of giggles from earlier.

“Stop, stop! I get it!” you said between laughs. “Jesus…” You settled back into his arms pulling the covers over the two of you some more. “Doesn’t answer my question, though.” Joel hums and pulls you somehow closer and you get comfortable in his grip, feeling sleep start to claim your mind. “Do you?” you ask, voice dripping with fatigue.

“Do I what?”

“Think Frankie’s pretty?”

You feel him huff and shake his head, then you hear the smile in his voice, “Yeah… yeah, I do.”

You fell asleep that night with a smile.

—

“Bet you Frankie would like it if you got a little festive,” you pouted under your breath, just above barely audible, just where he would have to ask you—

“What was that?”

“I said I bet you Frankie would like it if you got a little festive.”

“‘S that so? And what makes you think I’d wanna put it on just to impress him, hm?”

“N— nothing… Please, put on the suit, Joel?” you beg, donning your biggest puppy eyes you can manage. “The whole house is already decorated. Everyone’s gonna love it. If anyone gives you shit, I’ll show them what’s up. But I promise they’re gonna love it. Pleeeeease?”

Joel stands, silent, crossing his arms and chewing his cheek, thinking.

A beat passes, then another beat, your relentless begging gaze boring holes into his heart.

He sighs. “Gimme the suit,” he says and extends a hand.

“Really? Really, Joel?”

“Gimme the suit ‘fore I change my mind,” he says, fighting the smile curing at the corners of his mouth.

—

You were right, the suit was a fucking hit.

Every one of Joel’s employees that walked in was enthusiastically shocked that the old man would get into the spirit, patting him on the back and hyping him up the whole night. Each reaction made you giggle as you greeted them all and showed them into the house.

Tommy was probably the most surprised of them all, giving his big brother so much shit about dressing up, but Joel just laughed it off and shoved his brother in the house.

Not long after Tommy arrived, the doorbell rang again. “I’ll get it!” you told Joel and made your way to the door.

It was Frankie, dressed in his nicest sweater and least damaged pair of jeans, still wearing that baseball cap he was never seen without, holding a bottle of wine with a ribbon tied around it. 

“Frankie!” you exclaimed, extending your arms for a hug.

“Hi! Sorry I’m late, the traffic was horrible.”

“It’s okay, Tommy just showed up and he doesn’t have an excuse at all.”

Frankie laughs and remembers the bottle in his hands. “Oh, this is for you and Joel.” He hands it over with a smile.

“Oh, Frankie… you didn’t have to get us anything!”

“Consider it my thanks for all the hospitality,” he says.

“Well, thank you for the wine. Come in!”

There’s no need for a tour with him, having already been to your house countless times before this. When he rounds the corner into the kitchen, he nearly trips over his own feet seeing Joel. 

“Oh yeah, forgot to mention that,” you said, poorly hiding the giggle bubbling up in your throat.

“Hi, Frankie,” Joel says, shyly raising an arm to wave.

“Hey-y-y,” Frankie giggles, waving back with one arm and holding his stomach with the other, almost doubled over in laughter.

The party plays out better than you even thought it would, the warm, bass-y tones of laughter filling the space of your home as everyone mingles and eats and drinks. Minutes easily turn to hours effortlessly dragging the night along. The later it gets, the more people slowly filter out returning back to their homes. You walk Tommy out to his girlfriend, Maria’s car, whom you called about half an hour earlier when you overheard him tell someone one more wouldn’t hurt.

As you close the door and turn back to the house, surprisingly very neat for having just hosted a party of contractors, it’s… eerily quiet. You expected Joel to be just behind you waiting to come back inside so he could whisk you off to bed. But he was nowhere to be found. 

You creep back through the house, not seeing him anywhere. You round the corner to the living room and…

You thought everyone had left. But, you guess the last to arrive ended up being the last to leave as well.

You see Frankie and Joel sitting on the couch, Joel lounging as normal, still decked in his Santa gear, and Frankie sitting sideways facing him, one hand cupped on Joel’s jaw, kissing him so slow, so gently… so intoxicatingly beautiful.

You stay in the door frame for a minute watching the two make out on the couch, hearing the tiniest little grunts and groans from each of them. A fire ignites in your belly and quickly grows before you clear your throat to break the silence. 

Frankie leaps back, starting to fumble his words and blushing bright red almost immediately. You look at Joel who looks calm and collected as ever, if not just a little dazed and blissed from the kissing he was just doing. 

“I-I— um— we— I—“

“It’s okay, I’m not mad,” you say gently, convincingly as you can.

Frankie must have mastered the puppy eye look just as you had and was using them on you now. “Y-you’re… not?”

You chuckle. “No. Furthest from it, really.”

“Told you she’d be okay with it,” Joel pipes up, tugging him closer on the couch.

You inch closer into the room. “We, um… I think Joel and I have a… confession to make.” Frankie watches with big, curious eyes as you make your way to sit on Joel’s other side. “Joel… how can I put it… Joel has a little bit of a… crush on you, I’d say.”

“Now hang on one minute—“

“Thinks you’re an excellent worker, wouldn’t stop talking about you for months.”

“You’re the one that said to bring him over in the first place!” Joel argues. 

“That’s true. Just wanted to see the guy responsible for helping you out so much… Remember that first time you came over?”

Frankie nods, still watching as curious as ever. 

“Well… y’know what? You should tell him what you said, Joel.”

“Huh?”

“Y’know… about how you think he’s real pretty and all…”

You see Frankie shift a little out of the corner of your eye, barely causing a ripple in the couch attempting to hide the movement.

“If I remember correctly… you’re the one that said that first.”

Your cheeks grow a little hot at the admission. “But you agreed with me.”

“Well, ‘cause I do. Think he’s pretty.”

You finally glance back at Frankie whose blushing cheeks are bright red at this point. “All that to say… I think we both have a bit of a liking for you, Frankie.”

“Yeah?” he asks, completely unsure how he ended up here, but eternally grateful for it.

“Yeah. Is that… are you okay with that?”

“Shit... y-yeah— yes. Yes, I am,” he says, trying to keep a grasp on whatever composure he has left.

You smile back at him. “Good. Joel, you wanna show him to our room, then?”

“It’d be my pleasure,” he says, taking Frankie’s hand and giving it a kiss before leading him down the hall.

The three of you glide down the hall, the tension pouring out of your pores and making the air hotter, thicker, as you cross the threshold of the bedroom.

Joel leads Frankie to the edge of the bed, letting him sit and leaning in to give him a sweet, deep kiss to his plush lips. They both groan into it, savoring the softness of the other’s skin.

“Mmm… you should try, baby. He’s a real good kisser,” Joel offers.

You sit right next to Frankie, cupping his cheek to turn his face to you and kiss him. 

Joel’s right, too. He is a good kisser. His velvet soft lips part when his tongue darts out to taste yours, a small whimper slipping from his throat as your mouths dance together, getting to know one another, melting into one. Frankie reaches up to grab your face, willing your mouth closer into him and your body follows, all but climbing into his lap to taste more, more, more as his hands trail up your body under your shirt and up to your chest—

The kiss is only broken when Frankie moans into your mouth, looking away from you with a hooded stare as he finishes yanking off your shirt. You follow his gaze to the floor just between his legs where Joel has sunk to the floor, palming Frankie over his jeans.

“Tha’s gotta be uncomfortable, hm?” he asks, giving his bulge another gentle squeeze. Frankie grunts and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to control his breathing and the slow leak threatening to ruin his pants. “Keep kissing him, angel. Gonna take care’a this.”

Joel’s hand slides up Frankie’s torso, slowly coaxing him to lay flat on the bed. You chase him with your mouth listening to each tiny gasp that leaves his lips as Joel gets to work with his pants.

The clink of his belt… the hum of a zipper… the tiny shimmy of Frankie’s hips as Joel slides his boxer briefs down his legs, stopping mid-thigh and running his hands back up to his hips.

“Jesus christ…” you hear him whisper, admiring the almost fully hardened length of the man in front of him, the tip of his cock shining in the low light from the bedside lamps, a small damp patch just barely seeping through to the outside of his underwear.

Joel’s own cock jumps at the sight. If he wasn’t turned on already from Frankie’s perfect lips, he sure as hell was turned on now. He can hardly keep himself from touching, one hand wrapping around Frankie’s length in an instant.

Frankie’s hips buck up and he pulls away from your mouth again, a low moan bellowing from his chest.

“Yeah? Feels good?” Joel mocks from below, lazily stroking up and down, up and down, swirling his hand at the top making Frankie squirm underneath him. “Look here, angel, look how hard he is.”

You glance down and can’t help the whimper that falls from your lips watching Joel slowly jerk Frankie off, the bright red tip leaking down his own length and making everything slick. And the sounds…

But it’s when you see that Joel’s other hand has his own length grasped in his palm, rubbing over his pants, that you let out a borderline growl… something about watching him get off to this… this idea that you had and felt brave enough to open the door of discussion to… this idea that Joel seemed more than happy to indulge in…

It’s then you realize how damp you feel, the wetness that’s been slowly building and building without you even realizing leaking out to soak your panties. You try to discreetly rub your legs together, seeking some sort of friction, anything at all.

But Joel sees it. He always sees it.

“Feelin’ left out, baby? She wants some attention, huh?”

You look at him with pleading eyes, an unspoken yes, yes please…

“Say, Frankie… that pretty mouth of yours got any other talents?”

Frankie looks down his body where Joel sits, already looking so fucked out and gone. “H-huh?”

“Take his mouth, go ‘head.”

Your body is buzzing as you look back at Frankie, the flame of arousal burning bright in his pupils as he frantically nods, leaning back for you to move. You take off your pants and ruined panties and shift over him, straddling his broad frame and maneuvering your knees around his head.

You hover over his face, looking down for permission to lower, “Is— Are you okay wi—”

You’re cut off by Frankie’s hands on the apex of your thighs tugging you down to meet his lips, and it is fucking heaven. “Oh, fuck…”

His scruff scratches the most sensitive parts of you, giving you exactly the friction you needed as his tongue greedily laps up your arousal, drinking it up like he’s been lost in the desert and you’re his oasis. You rock against his lips taking more and more of everything he’s giving you, and he helps you, coaxing you back and forth as more slick leaks from your hole. “Yeah, like that…” you moan, one hand slipping under his cap and through his ruffled hair, neither of you caring when it falls off onto the bed.

“Keep doin’ that, boy,” you hear Joel rumble behind you, followed by a whine from below right against your clit, making you jolt at the sudden vibration.

You look back and see Joel easing down Frankie’s length, slipping inch by inch down his throat, bobbing up and down taking more and more with each bob until he’s taken it all to the hilt.

God, is it a sight. You’re already whimpering watching him take more and more, but when he’s bottomed out and looks up, eyes barely watering, and he gives you a wink, you can’t help the downright pornographic moan that escapes your lips.

You turn back and look down at Frankie, seeing tears just starting to well in his eyes when he opens them with the most desperate gaze you’ve ever seen. “Fuck, Frankie… so fucking pretty…” you moan out, throwing your head back as his tongue dips inside you and his nose nudges your clit perfectly.

“Fuck…” you hear Joel gasp. “Fuck, angel… turn around, please. Lemme see that pretty face while he eats you out.”

You oblige, gently prying Frankie’s hands off your hips and cautiously spinning around over him. He gives you no time to settle back down, pulling you back flush with his face and drowning himself in you once again.

It’s a miracle he isn’t suffocating, or at least he doesn’t care if he is. He eats, and eats, and eats, your juices dripping down his face and his neck making a mess of him below. He works your hole and your clit, drawing out cries from you until your thighs are shaking, barely holding yourself up.

“Fuck yeah, baby… ride his fuckin’ face like that,” Joel encourages, stroking Frankie in tandem with the rock of your hips. “Gonna fuckin’ cum on his face, baby? Bet tha’s what he wants. ‘S that what you want, boy? Want her drippin’ down your tongue?”

You barely hear it over your whines, but a muffled mmhm is all you need to chase your rapidly building high, the feral need taking over you as you ride his face. His scruff tickles your most sensitive spots and his warm, wet, determined tongue works overtime to send you over the edge, and it fucking works, your orgasm crashing through you as you brace yourself on his belly, riding it out as you spill more slick down his face and his mouth works you through every second.

He doesn’t let up, licking you through every wave until you have to use every ounce of strength to fight his grip holding you down. You flop on the bed to the side and see Frankie’s face absolutely drenched in you, his mustache and scruffy beard soaking wet and his cheeks red as roses.

Frankie’s eyes are closed, his chest heaving as Joel works him faster, harder, the squelching noise from the precum furiously leaking from the tip of his cock almost drowning out the whines leaving his lips.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck… ohhhhh, fuck— waitwaitwait—” he begs, pleads, with any ounce of strength he can still muster up.

Joel stops in an instant, “What’s wrong? You okay, Frankie? What happened?” he asks, concern drenching every word.

“It’s… fuck… nothin’s wrong… just…” he huffs, trying desperately to catch his breath. “Fuck, didn’t… wanna cum yet… shit…”

Worry leaves Joel’s features in an instant, swiftly replaced by contentment and ease that he’s alright. “Ohhh… was gettin’ t’be too much, huh?”

“Yeah…” he answers, breathlessly.

Joel rises on creaky knees to stand from where he knelt, reaching for Frankie’s hand to sit him up again. “You good to stand?” he asks, gently, voice nothing but bass.

He helps Frankie up on wobbly legs and switches places with him, dragging him into his frame between his knees, reaching up to his face and kissing him, licking you off his lips. “Mmm… tastes good, don’t she?” he asks with a smirk before crashing back into Frankie’s mouth.

His hands leave Frankie’s face to tug down the costume pants, finally freeing his fully hardened cock, tugging on it a few times before reaching for Frankie’s hands and guiding them into his lap. Frankie’s hand wraps around Joel’s length, his grasp encompassing his whole girth, but just barely so. Joel helps his hand along, up and down, up and down, a steady rhythm to make his cock slippery in his grasp. 

Frankie’s hand feels perfect, but Joel is an impatient man. And when he wants something, he’s gonna get it.

“You wanna sit on Santa’s lap, Frankie?” he says with a downright diabolical smirk.

“Oh, fuck— yes, please. Can I?”

“‘Course you can,” Joel smiles, reaching for the hem of his pants again and tugging them all the way down as Frankie toes off his shoes and steps out of each pant leg. He pats his thigh right where it meets his torso, “C’mon, boy, right here.”

Joel scoots back on the bed to make room as Frankie kneels on the bed lining himself up with Joel’s length. Frankie spits on his hand generously, giving Joel a few more tugs before lining him up with his tight ring of muscle.

“Shit, boy… no stranger to this, huh?”

Frankie just blushes, slowly lowering down to Joel’s lap, moaning as his greedy hole takes inch after inch until he’s sitting flush with Joel’s pelvis. He rises and falls a few times before finding a slow, steady rhythm, throwing his head back and bouncing eagerly up and down.

You watch in awe as Frankie fucks himself on Joel’s cock, resting his arms on Joel’s broad shoulders just like you do, Joel’s hands sitting on Frankie’s hips just like they do on your own. You feel your core flutter at the sight, half unaware of the whiny whimper that falls from your lips and fully unaware of your hand traveling south to play with the slick still drenching your folds.

The noise makes Joel turn his head and he extends his hand to you dragging you closer to him. He grabs your cheek and kisses you, his tongue begging entry into your mouth as you swallow each other’s moans.

Frankie wills his eyes open, watching the two of you make out right in front of him. It makes his cock throb as he bounces harder, a little faster, and Joel can feel him getting impatient.He pulls away from your desperate mouth, holding Frankie’s hips still and met with a whining protest about it. 

“Calm down a sec, cowboy. Got an idea…” You both look to him with curious, fucked out eyes. “Gonna lay back an’ you’re gonna ride my face just like you did for him, ‘kay princess?”

You nod back firmly, making a move towards him—

“Ah, ah— eager girl. Wasn’t finished…” he turns and looks at Frankie. “You got a hard job, think you can handle it?”

Frankie nods just as firmly, desperate to hear his rules to follow. “U-uh huh, I can handle it. Please.”

“Gonna keep ridin’ this cock, got it? But… you don’t cum ‘til I say so. Not even when she does. Not ‘til I say.”

Frankie’s chest jumps as his breath hitches, a grunt of a moan stifled at the back of his throat. His eyes flutter as he nods, trying desperately to keep his hips stilled and finding it harder and harder.

“We all good?” 

“Yes— yeah, all good,” you and Frankie both enthusiastically agree, desperate for more.

Joel leans back, tugging your hand his way. As you go to straddle him, he stops you. “Face him, baby. He didn’t get to see how pretty you look when you fall apart.”

Your eyes roll a bit as you lazily agree, spinning around to face Frankie. Sweat makes his forehead twinkle as he slowly rocks and bobs in Joel’s lap. You lower onto Joel’s face and immediately brace yourself on his belly, the feeling of his tongue more intense this time, still sensitive from before.

As hard as it is to keep his eyes open, Frankie can’t peel his gaze away from your face, contorted in pleasure as moans spill from your lips. “Oh, Joel… fuck, yes…”

Frankie can’t help but reach towards you, just wanting to touch you, feel your body… he cups your tits over your bra that you quickly undo and toss off the bed, desperate to feel his hands on your skin. “Go ahead, Frankie. Touch me, please,” you beg, holding his hands to your chest and squeezing them.

He mirrors you, kneading the flesh there and quickly throwing you back into the fire as Joel’s skillful tongue brings you closer and closer to the edge already. He never fails to unravel you in an instant, his tongue memorizing every inch of you right down to the softest spots that send you reeling in the blink of an eye.

It’s barely long at all before you feel the fire burning in your belly again, growing and growing as you desperately try to last just a little longer.

You distract yourself in Frankie, mesmerized by his face and his body that you wish you could see more of, hiding under his t-shirt that’s somehow still on.

“This—” you say, pawing at the hem of his shirt, “Off. Get this off—”

He doesn’t hesitate to help you peel his shirt off his sweaty body, throwing it haphazardly off the bed. His body is beautiful, the curves of his belly mirroring Joel’s so closely, and your hands are drawn to his skin like magnets, feeling every inch you can reach.

You don’t realize you’re lifting away from Joel’s face until he yanks you back down again, mercilessly lapping at your folds.

He pulls off again, just for a moment. “‘Member angel, he can’t come ‘til I say. Longer you’re ridin’ my face, longer he’s gotta wait.”

He’s back on your cunt in an instant, and your fluttering eyes barely catch the aroused and panicked expression on Frankie’s face. His cock makes a mess of Joel’s belly below, the leaking head spilling pearly white now as it gets harder and harder to stave off his orgasm. He languidly rocks back and forth trying desperately not to spill all over Joel’s gut before he’s allowed to.

Watching Frankie try so hard to keep his composure, teetering on the edge of collapse, turns you on more than you can even describe. Your hips move on their own at this point, or maybe it’s purely Joel rocking you in just the way he knows drives you crazy.

“Talk to ‘er,” he mumbles to Frankie from under your wet heat.

Your eyes blow wide, the growing fire turning to a blaze when Frankie opens his mouth.

“Fuck… g-gonna fucking cum for him too? Oh, shit… wanna… wanna see your face… when you—”

Frankie’s babbling is cut off by your moans as you cum for a second time tonight, thighs quivering and hips bucking on Joel’s face. He licks you through it, controlling the movement of your hips as you lose all control.

“Oh, my god… h-holy shit—” Frankie stops all movement, seconds away from making a mess of himself, Joel, and you sitting in front of him. His eyes bolt shut as you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm, shaking when Joel eases you off of his face. 

He sits up cupping Frankie’s face in his hands. “Got a little more fight in you?”

Frankie takes a deep breath. “Mhm… yeah, uh huh…”

Joel chuckles low, stroking his cheek with his thumb. “Good. Hop off.”

Frankie’s eyes pop open, but he obliges, easing himself off of Joel’s length with a whine at the sudden emptiness.

“Go ‘head and climb up there,” Joel instructs gently as Frankie climbs onto the bed where you lay, still a puddle of overstimulated mess. Joel gently tugs at your ankles pulling you towards the end of the bed, leaning down to kiss you, soft and sweet. 

“Can you gimme one more, angel? Can you stay up for me?”

Your eyes try their best to focus on his face, a hazy blur clouding your vision just a bit as you hum and nod to him. “Uh huh… can stay up…”

“Attagirl… alright, hands and knees, baby.”

You do as you’re told, flipping over and around so your backside faces him at the end of the bed. He stands over your body, hands gliding over the globes of your ass, up your back, stroking every inch of bare skin spread in front of him. 

“Fuckin’ gorgeous…” he mumbles, before laying a tap to your ass, causing you to jolt a little and whine at the contact. “Alright Frankie…” Frankie perks up, hanging onto Joel’s every word. “‘M gonna take this pretty hole back here… An’ you take that one up there. Sounds good?”

You clench around nothing. The idea of both of them filling you as much as you can take… Using you for their pleasure…

“Fuck… yeah, good, mhm…” Frankie babbles, shimmying himself to kneel in front of you.

You look up at him, down his body, to his ruddy cock, hard as diamond right in front of you. Your mouth waters at the sight and you motion for him to come a little closer.

Joel grabs his length, lining the head up with your entrance. You stifle a whimper at just the contact of his fat tip pressing into your most sensitive spots. “Ready?” he asks. You both whimper a yes, ready.

They both enter you at the same time, sliding into you wet, wanting holes cautiously first, but easily. So, so easily. The three of you groan in pleasure, them from your warmth and you from the fullness.

Joel sets a pace, fucking in and out of your dripping cunt with ease, quite a feat for the sheer fucking size of him, but you’re so worked up that you practically suck him in and dont dare to let him go. Frankie doesn’t follow Joel’s face, testing the waters of your throat and what it can take.

“She can handle it, boy. If she can take all’a me, she can take all’a you too,” Joel says with a wink.

Neither one of them is small by any means, but Joel was right. He was a bit thicker than Frankie is, and it took a while for your mouth to get used to his size. And while Frankie wasn’t as thick, he might have been just a little longer. It was impossible to tell now, though, they both felt impossibly huge stuffed inside of you, each of them chasing their own highs.

Joel’s pace has already picked up, the warm walls of your pussy crying for him to keep going, don’t stop, right there… the grip on your hips unforgiving as he slams in and drags back out over and over and over…

Frankie keeps rocking into your mouth, a little faster now, and you taste the salty precum leaking onto your tongue and down your throat.

“So fuckin’ hot, angel… stuffed so fuckin’ full…”

“God, you feel good…” Frankie whispers down to you, and you wish you could see his face while you take him to the hilt. Instead, you pull away and spit directly onto the head of his cock before taking him back into your throat completely, using one hand to play with his balls. “Oh, fuck… oh, fuck…”

“Ah ah, boy— unh— not— not ‘til I say,” Joel reminds him.

Frankie takes a few deep breaths, holding your face so delicately, like it could break, trying to ground himself and fucking focus…

“One more, baby, one more right on this cock… an’ then you can too, boy…”

Joel fucks you harder, faster, bruising your cervix with every thrust, the ridges of his cock dragging along every nerve ending in your walls bringing you closer, and closer, and closer—

“Oh, fuck, Joel! Right there! Don’t fucking stop!”

He doesn’t. Not at all. He keeps the same relentless pace, hitting that soft spot deep inside you that he always finds without fail. You flutter around his length, clamping down on him as he reaches around your front to find your clit. He teases your little bundle of nerves, circle after circle after circle, hurdling you closer and closer to release.

“Fuck, tha’s right, baby. Tha’s fuckin’ right.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck— ‘m gonna fuckin’ cum, Joel,” Frankie cries, his hips bucking out of rhythm.

“Yeah? Gonna spill down her throat while she’s creamin’ my cock? Go ‘head, both of y’all, at the same time. C’mon—” he grunts, one strong thrust sending you reeling, spasming, damn near collapsing onto the bed as your third orgasm rips through you at an earth-shattering rate.

“Jesus fucking christ—” Frankie groans before his own thighs are trembling, his cock throbbing in your mouth as ropes of cum shoot down your throat, fucking himself in your mouth through his own high, the vibrations from your moans making his body shiver as you drain him empty.

Like dominos falling, Joel is next to go, painting your walls with his spend at the sight of you and Frankie falling apart right in front of him, throbbing in your overstimulated cunt as both ends suck each man dry.

The three of you are a pile of huffing, heaving messes, catching your breaths and dripping sweat onto your sheets. After a minute, Joel slowly slides out of you, his cum leaking out of your swollen pussy and dripping onto the sheets. The rest of your body plops down onto the mattress when he lets you go.

Joel steps back and looks at the two of you, sprawled out on the bed in a completely fucked out daze, and chuckles.

“Guess that that was a good enough present for the two’a you, huh?”

You both give a tired, breathy giggle stretching and wiggling around the mattress. You crawl up towards Frankie laying on the pillows and curl into him, and he welcomes you like this is something you’ve always done, with ease, with comfort.

Joel walks into your bathroom and returns with a towel, cleaning you up before climbing next to you, now sandwiched between the two burly men, all three of you basking in post-coital bliss.

“That is… not how I thought the night would end,” Frankie says with a sigh and a chuckle.

You giggle back. “No? Not even a little?” you tease.

Frankie hums a laugh. “So, was this… is this something that you guys… talked about before?”

You turn a little and look at Joel who is just admiring the two of you. His eyebrows raise a bit, an exhale of a laugh leaving his lungs. “Hmm… I mean, It’s come up a few times.”

Frankie turns his head to look at Joel, silently asking for more.

“Started that first time you came over an’ it just… I don’t know, it would come up from time to time. Was never opposed to the idea and… Tonight was the night the pieces fell just right, I s’pose,” he explains, the ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

You can see it haunting Frankie’s lips too, threatening to show just how much he enjoyed this too.

“Think it’s safe to say we all enjoyed it, huh?” you tease again, nudging Frankie and throwing Joel a knowing glance. Frankie turns away, blushing.

The three of you cuddle a little closer, savoring each other’s company, glowing with pleasure as you lay there, falling asleep knowing things might have changed, but for the absolute better.

[baronessvonglitter]

Sprinkle of Cinnamon ✨

Frankie Morales x f!Reader

Word count: 1.3K

Summary: While getting some holiday baking done, your boyfriend has a big surprise in store for you.

WARNINGS: Absolutely none. Pure fluff and family friendly themes ❤️ Mention of fire (Frankie burns some brownies but he’s a pro and gets the fire put out quickly.

Author's note: This fic is for @frenchiereading who I got in the Secret Santa challenge by @pedrostories. This was such a lovely challenge idea and I had a wonderful time writing this for you, Mel! Wishing you a very happy and peaceful holiday, and I hope you enjoy this little slice of Frankie sweetness 🥰

FRANKIE MORALES MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

Cinnamon is the last thing you need from the store, and as you wedge yourself in between other shoppers' carts during the last-minute Christmas baking rush to get down the spice aisle, you grab the last plastic bottle of McCormick's and head to the checkout line.

Now that you have your last ingredient a calmness washes over you. All the gifts are wrapped, the house is ready for your Christmas guests tomorrow, the first with your live-in boyfriend Frankie Morales and his young daughter Daniela. Everything is going according to plan. No surprises, just how you like it.

All that's left is the baking, which little Daniela blithely asked to assist you with.

However, when you arrive home, the sight you behold is of Frankie, apron haphazardly strewn about his person, emptying the last contents of the fire extinguisher at the stove. Acrid smoke hangs in the air and a sheepish smile creeps upon his face.

"Hey honey," he says pleasantly, coughing a little from the smoke. "Didn't expect you home so early."

"What happened?" you ask, wide-eyed, assessing the damage, of which there is thankfully little.

His seven year old daughter Daniela speaks up. "Daddy was trying to make brownies!"

"To surprise you," he groans, his secret unraveled by his own flesh and blood. "You have so much baking to do before tomorrow and I just wanted to help you get ahead."

"That's sweet." You wrap your arms around him and give him a soft kiss. "I'm sure they would have been delicious."

"I don't think so," Daniela shakes her head, unsuccessfully evading her dad as he scoops her up into his arms and tickles her.

A shuffling noise is heard upstairs, right above the kitchen in the bedroom you share with Frankie. "Is someone here?"

"No," Frankie says, giving his daughter a look as he holds her in his arms. "I didn't hear anything. Did you hear anything, niñita?"

Daniela hides her face in her dad's shoulder and shakes her head, but a tiny giggle escapes. 

"Still, I should go check." He puts her down and races upstairs.

"Okay.." you side-eye them, a little smile on your lips. "Dani, sweetie, want to help me start with the cupcakes?"

Later that night everything is cleaned, back to its normal settings, and you're mixing a bowl of gingerbread with Daniela's help. She's excited to be involved in the baking process, carefully arranging the decoration icing tubes and separating the sprinkles by type, making the thumbprints in the jam-filled thumbprint cookies, and meticulously adding red and green M&Ms to the cupcakes she helped you frost.

Frankie, who claimed not to find anything suspicious earlier, is upstairs wrapping gifts (so he says), and suddenly emits a loud curse. There's a loud bump. You listen, watching the ceiling above you where the noise comes from. "You okay, babe?" you call out.

"Yeah! I'm good, baby.. don't come up!" he warns you.

"Okay," you stifle a little giggle, exchanging a glance with Daniela, who looks just as amused and shakes her head and keeps at her work, adding snowflake crystals to some freshly baked brownies.

"Ow! Hey, damn it," you hear him grunt, then another sound is heard, something muffled and whiny.

"Frankie?" you call upstairs.

He's silent but you hear some rustling and scratching. "What's going on up there?" you call out again.

"Daniela!" Frankie calls, evidently trying not to sound frazzled. "Can you come up here, niñita? Please?"

She dutifully goes up, abandoning the brownies. 

"What is going on today?" you mutter to yourself, mixing the gingerbread as the oven dings its readiness.

Finally you have time to rest. Daniela's still helping out her dad with the wrapping, even though you'd offered your expert gift-wrapping technique. He didn't want you to see what he'd gotten you.

"I don't need anything for Christmas, just you," you'd told him all holiday season. But Frankie was insistent. He loved giving gifts, even something as small as a small bouquet from the florist or your favorite snack from the corner store where he took your car to fill up the tank.

You hope he'll like the watch you got him. You'd saved up for the expensive one he'd been looking at in the sales catalog for weeks.

"Babe, take a break and come down here for some cocoa!" you call up, putting down a tray of steaming sweet hot chocolate in three mugs, topped with whipped cream, a sprinkle of cinnamon, and some candy canes for stirring.

There's that shuffling sound again, like little taps on the stairs. You hear Frankie's curse and Daniela's high-pitched giggling before a golden retriever puppy comes bounding downstairs, a little Santa hat on its head, pawing at your legs.

"Oh my gosh, who's this little guy?" you bend down to scratch the puppy's ears as Frankie and Dani come downstairs.

"He's your surprise," Frankie says, swiftly picking up the little cutie. There's a red ribbon tied to his tail, with something on the end of it. "What is that?" you ask.

"I did that! I was very careful," Daniela says proudly. And before Frankie can move away with the puppy, you touch the ribbon and find something heavy on the end. Bright and sparkly.

"A ring?" You give Frankie a confused look.

If it's possible for someone to both pale and blush at the same time, Frankie accomplishes it. He unties the ring from the ribbon and slips it off, holding it between two fingers as he gets down on one knee, the puppy tucked safely under his arm.

"Baby.." he starts, and your eyes blur with tears of joy and excitement. Daniela claps her hands happily.

"I had a whole speech planned, but I'm just gonna wing it, and speak from my heart," he says, big brown eyes looking up at your like you're his life raft.

"You're the most beautiful person I've ever met. Not just on the outside, but on the inside. You're caring and smart and funny, you made Dani and I feel like part of a family again.. and you put up with all my bullshit."

Daniela gasps. "Daddy, don't say bad words!"

You laugh with him. "But it's true," he continues. "I don't deserve you, not one bit. But if you marry me I promise I'll show you every day that I can be worthy of you.."

Your heart is racing so quickly you're afraid it'll fly right out of your chest. "Frankie.. of course I'll marry you!"

It takes a moment for him to register your answer, then he's up and hugging you, the puppy wagging its tail and Daniela wrapping her little arms around yours and Frankie's legs.

"It was the hardest thing to keep her quiet," Frankie says, watching Dani play with the puppy, affectionately named Holly in the spirit of Christmas.

"That was all the noise I heard?" you snuggle on his shoulder as the two of you sip your hot chocolate, The Santa Clause playing on TV. 

"I know you don't like surprises, but I wanted this to be memorable for you," he says with an apologetic look. You can't resist him, giving him a soft kiss which he returns with eagerness.

"It was.. I just feel bad I only got you a watch when you got me an entire engagement ring.."

"Baby, it's no big deal- wait, you got me a watch?"

You groan, smacking your forehead. "Yeah. That's meant to be a surprise for you too."

"The one we saw in the mail catalog? The expensive one?" You can't help loving how hopeful he sounds.

"It wasn't that expensive," you smile.

Content as you rest on the sofa, watching Dani play with Holly, life can't possibly get better. The diamond on your finger twinkles in the lights of the Christmas tree, but you're too enamored with the people in the room, the ones who belong in your heart.

dividers by @thecutestgrotto 👑

[butchreg]

sleep troubles ( ~ 900 words )

requested by @f1shb0n3sz . sorry this took awhile. i've never really thought about cassandra honestly so this was a welcome challenge for me. i did my best to characterize her well but i'm not super familiar with her character so apologies if she is ooc. i don't really plan on doing a lot for her as i'm just not as familiar with her but here ya go : ) if any of the baby lore is inaccurate i apologize i'm not particularly familiar with babies (*_ _)人. i hope this is okay ! a little shorter than usual i apologize. arcane masterlist here , upcoming list here

summary : cassandra helps you , who struggles with insomnia , get to sleep. a cg ! cassandra kiramman fic.

tags / warnings : sfw agere , arcane agere , boyre , babyre , mommy ! cassandra , little ! masc reader , reader struggles with insomnia , fluff , minor hurt comfort — a bit of crying and anxious thoughts from baby but mommy calms you right down , arcane x reader , talk of baby ! caitlyn , bottle feeding , not proofread </3

Cassandra walks into your room, having heard your continuous babbles over the baby monitor. The councilor looks tired, dark circles beginning to form beneath her striking teal blue eyes. “Now now, my darling,” she begins to scold gently. “Look at the time, love. Time for little ones like you to be asleep.” You continue to babble, excited to see your mommy, reaching out your arms towards her. She sighs but comes over to your crib which she had specially made by commission for you. 

She scoops you up, sitting you on her lap in the rocking chair next to your crib. She bounces you on her lap, before giving you a bit of a stern look. “Why aren’t we asleep, hmm?” She’s concerned, it’s well past midnight by now, pushing one o’clock. She recalls that when Caitlyn was this small, barely a year and a half, she had slept nearly constantly. Like clockwork at 6:45 every evening she’d come sleepily toddling, half scooting by means of a coffee table or armchair, ready for a kiss and a cuddle from mommy, falling asleep almost the second she was placed in her crib. You, however, as she’s come to know, are a different story. 

You whine. It’s not that you don’t want to sleep. But you just can’t. “Use your words please. Can you do that for Mummy?” she prompts you. “A whine simply won’t do on its own.”You grumpily huff, wishing she could read your mind. Words are hard when you’re so small. She tuts at you, chuckling a bit. “Now now, let’s not get grumpy. Mummy can’t help you if you don’t speak up. Aren’t you feeling sleepy?” 

You shrug. You are feeling rather tired but sleep just won’t come! She waits patiently for you to speak. She’s quite no nonsense like that; you know you won’t be able to worm your way out of explaining the situation to her. “‘Somnia,” you mumble, a bit embarrassed. You squirm in Cassandra’s lap, mind straying to the possibility of her being ashamed, or embarrassed by you. Perhaps she’ll think you’re too difficult, or maybe even a bad boy. 

You begin to fuss at these thoughts. She’s surprised when you open your mouth, beginning to cry. She gasps quietly, alarmed by your cries. She brings you closer to you, rubbing your back soothingly. “Oh hush now, my little love. You’re okay, everything is okay,” she soothes softly. “You have insomnia, hmm? Is that correct?” 

You nod slowly, sniffling as you wipe your tired teary eyes. “Shhh, how about I help you get to sleep tonight, prince?  Would that be alright?” You nod, appreciatively, babbling a bit in response. 

“Mamamababa,” you say, and she chucks your chin, smiling. 

“There’s my sweet boy,” she says lovingly. She thinks for a moment. “How about I make you a bottle of some nice sleepytime tea? That would be quite nice, wouldn’t it now?” You cock your head, pondering that idea for a minute. Tea? You don’t drink a lot of that, it’s more for grownups like Mommy. You nod eagerly, clinging to Cassandra’s ruffled white undershirt so she has no choice but to stand up with you in her arms, placing you on her hip. 

Typically she’ll have the servants make your bottles, being far too busy with council activities during the day to make them herself. By now, though, everyone is asleep in their quarters aside from the two of you. She puts on the kettle, pacing the large kitchen as she bounces you on her hip waiting for the tea to be ready. 

She hums softly to you. She has a sweet but rusty singing voice, not having used it in years. She sticks to humming a soft tune that Caitlyn used to adore. The humming soothes you even further, and you begin to feel sleepier, closing your eyes while you wait for Mommy to get your bottle ready. 

A short while later she’s pouring the warm tea into a bottle, tightly fastening the top, smiling proudly to herself. She carries you back to your room, situating herself and you back in the rocking chair. You make grabby hands for the bottle and she experimentally tests it to make sure it’s a proper temperature. “Mmmm, it tastes nice. Perfect for my little love,” she comments, allowing you to taste your first sip of the warm liquid. 

You giggle, squirming with delight. It does taste good. She boops your nose and you smile around the bottle, suckling at it eagerly. Before it’s even half empty you feel your eyelids beginning to droop. “Someone’s pretty tired, hmm?” the councilor teases gently. You hum in response. “You all done, sweet boy?” 

“Mmmmm,” you hum, nodding slightly. She picks you back up, placing the bottle on top of your dresser and gently spinning the mobile above your crib. “Ababa…” you babble sleepily. She carefully places you in bed, tucking you in snuggly, giving both you and your lion stuffie a gentle kiss on the forehead. 

She sits back down on the rocking chair, rocking back and forth slowly, determined to stay with you until you’re fast asleep. She softly begins to sing you a lullaby, hearing you sleepily moving in your bed. She sings you the one about the mockingbird, Caitlyn always liked that one. Her voice is a bit husky but you don’t have any complaints, allowing yourself to drift off to the sound of your mommy’s lullaby.

[beefrobeefcal]

Alone Together feat. Dieter Bravo

Summary: Dieter is alone by his own doing for Christmas, and so are you.

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!reader | Rating: Teen but still MDNII | Word Count: 2,293

Content Warnings: the holiday morbs, Dieter being a jerk, wine consumption but no is drunk, brief mention of politics, referenced dislike of sappy holiday movies, black cats, kissing, mentions of sex but no smut (who am I?),

Author's Notes: hello beloved @rulexofxnines - it is I, your DB Brainrot Secret Santa! I do hope I met your request for holiday feels and our darling Dieter. Thanks to @sp00kymulderr for organizing!

Thanks to @strang3lov3 for her eyes, minds, thots and love - I wouldn't have had the gumption during this stressful holiday season to get this done without you. 🥩💜🐛 Thanks also to @saradika-graphics for the dividers.

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Your neighbour was an asshole, that much was true. Belligerent to delivery workers, rude to his house staff… You even stood in your kitchen and watched him throw a boot at his most recent stylist as he chased them out of his front door. 

In the year and a half that you’d been Dieter Bravo’s neighbour, he had done nothing to show you he was anything less than a douchecanoe. You’d made up your mind about him after your one and only one interaction; he was dragging his garbage can back from the curb and he gave you a once over and said, “Nice.” with a nod and gross smile. Your less-than-charitable facial expression in response was met with a scowled huff from him before he disappeared back into his house.

Sure, he was an actor who did walk on parts on primetime tv dramas now, but back in the day, he was more than a bit part. You wouldn’t have called yourself a fan, but you didn’t deny that he was attractive and a good actor… and even now, he was still attractive, even if the acting part wasn’t as true anymore.

The week earlier, you’d received a very fancy note telling you that while you weren’t invited, Dieter would be hosting a large, extravagant party on this day and he was only giving the neighbourhood a head’s up because his lawyer had told him to. Even if outwardly you were coldly ambivalent towards the note, you couldn’t deny the initial thrill you had when you thought it may actually be an invite followed by the immediate disappointment and deflation of your ego.

Even though he was an asshole, you still felt an inexplicable pull towards him. Little did you know that Dieter felt that same pull towards you.

He was painfully aware of the horrible first impression he’d left on you, and he knew you weren't immune to the stories that were told about him and his arrogance. A small part of him had wanted to reach out to you, but it was squashed each time you’d break eye contact with an eye roll or a slight grimace. As much as he felt that pull, he also felt irritated at your assumed uninterest in him, the Dieter Bravo.

You had both made assumptions about one another - some well informed while others were a bit more misguided - yet neither of you had the ability to not have your attention drawn to one another the moment you were in each other’s peripherals. 

This was going to be your first christmas alone in your home. Last year, you’d opted to spend the holidays at your parents house with all of your family, but given the results of the recent election, you didn’t feel like hearing extended family’s opinions, and thusly, you were staying put. You’d decorated a small, counter top tree and splurged on a few gifts for you and your cats, VOID and Nugget, and you’d gotten a small chicken to roast like a turkey; you were set.

You began to settle in for a quiet Christmas Eve, even if you didn’t want to admit that you really weren’t digging the ‘alone for the holidays’ plans you’d made now nearly as much. Knowing that Dieter was hosting what you assumed would be a very large and noisy party, you had your wireless headphones charged, a ridiculous stockpile of Christmas cookies, and your appetizers in the air fryer; you were as ready as you could be for whatever your neighbour had in store for you.

A few hours and two really terrible Christmas movies later, you noted that there were no cars outside Dieter’s home, nor was there any noise. You’d not even bothered with your headphones - waiting until you actually needed them - and you hadn’t even needed to shut the blinds on the windows that faced his house. 

It was weird. Quiet and weird. 

You got up and looked out your kitchen window and what you saw almost broke your heart. There was Dieter, sitting with his head in his hands on his front steps alone. From your vantage point, you watched as he lifted his head and looked out into the dark street in front of him and sigh. 

Your mind was suddenly at odds with itself. You could turn and go back to another crappy Christmas movie with your cats on the couch, or you could take the chance to fill the need for human connection on Christmas Eve with someone who could either accept or rudely deny you. 

You chose the former, feeling that pull towards him again, and grabbed the big container of Christmas cookies, then headed out your front door.

Dieter’s head shot up as you approached him and the certainty you felt began to wither as his eyes locked on yours and all those memories of how terrible he could be started to force their way to the front of your mind, and your steps slowed.

“Hey… I-”

The loud, groaned sigh he let out interrupted you and you felt yourself shrink a bit. You couldn’t quite tell if the sound was born of irritation at your unsolicited arrival or embarrassment at being seen so dejected. 

When he rolled his eyes and motioned towards the container in your hands, you had your answer. 

“Oh, so you just thought you’d drop by even though you weren’t invited, huh?”, he scoffed sarcastically, but there was a sadness and a vulnerability lingering in the cold glare he gave you.

Your defences came up against your better judgement, and your eyes narrowed. All the holly jollies in your body evaporated, and you spat out,  “The party, you mean? You mean the one that looks like no one showed up for?”

He frowned angrily and stood up, stepping towards you. This action alone made you feel a warmth bloom in your chest, but the moment his finger pointed at you sternly, that warmth at his proximity soured. Just as he was about to open his mouth, you shoved the container of cookies into his chest.

“Merry fuckin’ Christmas, asshole.”

You didn’t bother to wait for his response, instead opting to turn and storm back into your house and slam the door. You kicked off your boots, cursing him under your breath, at both him and his attitude and you and your conflicting feelings. You spooked your cats as you stomped into your kitchen and ripped open the fridge to grab your bottle of wine. Still muttering to yourself, you poured a glass and downed the whole thing in one go. As you were about to pour your second glass, there was a knock at the door. 

You froze, mid-pour, almost overfilling your glass, feeling that warth fight to come to the surface and bleed all over you. Putting the bottle down and picking up your glass, you listened, then another knock happened. You knew it was him and, if you were honest, you were both elated at the idea he was seeking you out and terrified because you had shoved a plastic rubbermaid container into his chest and he could say it was assault and he could afford a better lawyer than you, and -

Another knock followed by, “Hello? I know you’re home.”

It was stupid but it was true. He knew you were home because he watched you go in, and you knew he knew that because you knew he watched you go in. 

You sighed and put the glass down and went down to your door and opened it a crack. 

“Yes, I am home.” Stupid. He knows you’re home, dumbass.

He moves closer to the door and leans his face closer to the opening. “Yeah. I know.”  Jesus, his eyes are brown. And pretty. Shit.

You suck in a breath and snip back, “Yeah, I know you know.” He smells nice, too. Stop it.

You both stared at each other for a beat before he let out a breath and his shoulders dropped. His face looked as sad as his voice sounded. “I’m not an asshole.”

The look on your own face betrayed you with a perfect mix of confusion and sympathy and Dieter must have taken that as his in; he put his hand on your door and gently pushed it open, softly forcing you back. He stepped into your entryway enough to close the door behind him and he stood in front of you, container of cookies still in his grasp… in his large hands with thick fingers… shit shit shit! Stop it! It was then you noted how dressed up he was: a nice deep green velvet suit with matching tie and dress shirt. His hair was done and his patchy beard was cleaned up, and you noted the telltale marks on his lovely nose that said he’d been wearing glasses. 

You suddenly realized how dry your mouth was, making your saliva thick. What was in this man’s cologne? 

As you allowed your eyes to trial over him, he was doing the same, taking in your Christmas sweater with little skeletons in Santa hats on it. You had no makeup on and your hair was kind of a mess. You caught him looking you over and felt a wave of self-consciousness wash over you and looked away from him, clearing your throat. 

“I’m not always an asshole.”, he said softly.

Your gaze snapped up to him once again, and you found your confidence in the vulnerability he was giving you in his own eyes. “Not always?”

A small smile tugged at one side of his mouth and he looked down at the container in his hands. “Yeah… just was a huge asshole without reprieve this year.”

You felt his words tug at your heart strings and you saw Dieter as he truly was - alone by his own doing. 

“Want to come in for a drink? I have wine…”, you motioned your hand towards the few stairs up into the living room. He nodded and followed you.

It was now well past midnight, officially December 25th, and you and Dieter had been talking for hours. You had told him how lonely you were, living by yourself with your cats in a new city and far away from the comforts of familiarity.

He admitted he knew he was driving everyone out of his life, but he didn’t know how to stop it. Between the party being a failure and you calling him an asshole but still giving - albeit harshly - the cookies to him, he finally admitted to himself that he truly was alone, just like you.

“Why?”, you asked softly, placing your hand on his, and his other hand in turn covered yours.

“I don’t know… maybe I’m a narcissist or a sociopath… or had a bad childhood or too much money, I don’t know, but I do know that I don’t like where it got me.”

You nodded and he looked at you, a small smile on his lips. “You know, I always wanted to get to know you.”

“Yeah?” You couldn’t help but return the same smile. 

“Yeah. I guess I was just used to people coming to me and when you didn’t, I-”, he shrugged. “I guess I figured you’d rather be alone than get to know me.”

You looked at him, feeling a pang of guilt at his softness in the moment. You opened your mouth to speak but whatever you were going to say was caught in your throat when his hand came up to your cheek. His big brown eyes bored into yours and his face came closer. 

His voice was soft and his eyes flicked down to your lips before coming back. “I think you and I, we could maybe make being alone together a thing.”

You nodded and Dieter leaned in and kissed you. Softly, almost tentatively, as if he was waiting for your cue to delve deeper. As soon as you opened your lips slightly in the kiss, Dieter took his chance.

“Hon - you ready? Guests are showing up in ten minutes!”, you called up the stairs. 

Dieter appeared at the top, his shirt unbuttoned and his hair in clips as the style set. “I’m - ten minutes? Really?”

You nodded with a smile and he ran back into the bedroom to finish getting ready.

The past year had been nothing short of an R-rated Hallmark Holiday movie. Dieter and you had moved fast in your relationship, sex that very first night had entwined you two together, and neither of you were willing to try anything less than full throttle and you’d moved in with him after less than three months of dating. You had both felt like this was meant to be and his ego and your first impressions of him had delayed the inevitable, and now you were making up for lost time.

Dieter had started to try and mend the broken relationships - some successful, others not - and you felt he had taken every rejection as gracefully as he received forgiveness. It had taken some convincing on your part to get him to agree to try hosting another Christmas Eve party, but here you were, readying the house and hoping for a good turnout. 

A few hours into the party, You watched as Dieter moved through the room, smile on his face as he greeted each guest, noting his hand in his pocket, but not giving it another thought.

Dieter caught glimpses of you as he chatted and talked with the people in the room, his fingers deftly playing with the ring he was going to give you at midnight in his pocket. He wanted to officially make sure you knew you would never be alone again.

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[nickeverdeen]

Mission Saved | Kate Bishop x fem!reader

Pairings: Kate x reader (romantic), Yelena x reader (family), Peter x reader (platonic), Kate x Yelena (platonic), Kate x Peter (platonic), Yelena x Peter (platonic)

Type of fic: Comedy, Fluff, Angst/Comfort

Warnings: Little out of character for almost everyone, light smut implication

Summary: It’s Christmas and Kate thought it wouldn’t be a big of a deal to leave you alone for them while she goes on a mission, but her two companions manage to open her eyes.

———————

The small apartment felt emptier than usual. You had just finished decorating the little Christmas tree you managed to squeeze inside, and as you sat down, your phone buzzed. It was Kate, her voice coming through with warmth but also with a tinge of something you knew too well—regret.

“I’m sorry, babe. I don’t think I’ll be home for Christmas,” Kate said from the other end of the call. You glanced at the tree, the lights blinking softly, and tried your best to hide the sadness in your voice.

“It’s okay, Kate,” you replied, forcing a smile she couldn’t see. “We can always make it up next year.”

But Kate wasn’t an idiot—she knew that this wasn’t just about “next year.” The disappointment was unmistakable, even if you didn’t openly protest. Before she could say anything, though, you hung up, leaving her staring at her phone in surprise. You had never done that before.

The next day, Kate found herself in a jet on the way to another mission, accompanied by Peter Parker and Yelena Belova. The ride was uneventful until Yelena, clearly bored, turned her attention to Kate, her eyes narrowing as she studied her friend.

“Did my sister break up with you?” Yelena asked bluntly, her tone lacking any hint of tact.

Kate’s heart sank at the question. “No, she didn’t break up with me,” she said, her voice defensive. Yelena’s bluntness had struck a nerve.

“Then why are you here?” Yelena pressed on, frowning. “Why aren’t you home?”

Peter, who had been quietly listening, gave Kate a confused look. “Yeah, it’s Christmas. Shouldn’t you be with your girlfriend?”

Kate stammered, trying to explain. “I—I mean, it’s just a mission. It’s not like a big deal, right?” She felt the uncertainty grow as she spoke, her words falling flat.

Yelena’s eyes widened in disbelief, and she exchanged a look with Peter. “Not a big deal?” she repeated, her voice dripping with disbelief. “It’s Christmas, Kate. You left her alone on Christmas. Do you know how sad she’s been lately?”

Kate felt her heart drop, her stomach churning with anxiety. She had noticed how you’d been down lately, but she hadn’t realized just how much her absence was affecting you. Peter shook his head, his expression full of disappointment.

“Do you at least have presents for her?” he asked, hoping Kate had something planned.

Kate stayed quiet, her face flushing in embarrassment. Both Peter and Yelena groaned in frustration, exchanging exasperated looks.

“Okay, that’s it,” Yelena said, standing up and grabbing the communicator. “We’re holding off the mission. Backup will take care of it.” She turned back to Kate, her eyes softening slightly. “You need to go home and fix this.”

Peter nodded, giving Kate a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “She loves you, Kate. Just go make it right.”

As soon as they had the mission covered, Yelena set the jet’s direction back to New York, determined to help Kate save her relationship. The flight back was tense, Kate’s mind racing with fears that you might be done with her for good. Peter did his best to calm her down, reminding her of all the good memories you shared and assuring her that you still loved her.

When they landed, Kate hurried off, waving a quick goodbye to Yelena and Peter as she made her way to her car. She drove fast—too fast—earning herself a speeding ticket along the way, but she couldn’t care less. She needed to make this right.

Kate rushed through the stores, buying anything she knew you’d mentioned wanting—gifts she hoped would make you smile. When she finally arrived at your shared apartment, her heart sank at the sight. The place was quiet, the festive decorations feeling hollow without you there to enjoy them. She found you lying on your bed, petting Lucky absentmindedly, neither of you showing any sign of excitement.

“Hey,” Kate called softly, stepping inside with bags and a box of pizza in her hands. “I brought pizza for dinner.”

You looked up, surprised to see her here, but you didn’t move to greet her. Instead, you stayed on the bed, unsure of how to feel. Lucky, on the other hand, jumped up, wagging his tail as he ran over to greet Kate.

Kate’s heart ached at the sight of you, your usual warmth replaced with uncertainty. She put the bags down, her words spilling out in a rush. “I’m so, so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t realize how much I was hurting you. I’m a terrible girlfriend. Please, please don’t break up with me. I promise I’ll never leave you alone on Christmas again, or any other important day—”

You got up, crossing the room in a few quick strides, and pressed your lips against hers, cutting her off. Kate froze for a moment before relaxing into the kiss, her arms wrapping around you tightly.

When you finally pulled away, you gave her a small smile. “You’re forgiven, Kate. Just… don’t do it again, okay?”

Kate nodded, her eyes glistening with relief. “I promise.”

Slowly, the heaviness in the room began to lift. You both moved to the living room, exchanging gifts and decorating the tree together. You put on some Christmas music, the familiar tunes filling the apartment as you laughed together. Kate still felt a twinge of guilt, but seeing you smile made her feel a little better.

She had also picked up matching Christmas sweater pajamas for the two of you, and after dinner, you went to take a shower, changing into the cozy PJs afterward. When you returned, you found that Kate had set up the couch with fluffy blankets and pillows, your favorite movie ready to play. She handed you a mug of hot cocoa, her eyes soft as she watched you.

You smiled, your heart warming at the sight. “You really went all out, huh?”

Kate shrugged, a small grin tugging at her lips. “Only the best for you.”

You settled on the couch together, cuddled up under the blankets as the movie began. Halfway through, Kate took a picture of the two of you, sending it to Peter and Yelena with the caption: Mission saved.

A moment later, Yelena’s response came through: Did you get a head?

Kate choked on her cocoa, quickly typing back a no before turning the group chat off, her cheeks flushed. You looked up at her, curious. “What’s up?”

Kate shook her head, giving you a smile. “Nothing important.”

You snuggled closer, your head resting on her shoulder as you whispered, “Merry Christmas, Kate.”

Kate pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, her arms tightening around you. “Merry Christmas, babe.”

Lucky jumped up onto your lap, curling up and falling asleep as you both smiled, the warmth of the moment wrapping around you like a blanket. Despite everything, this was perfect—and Kate knew she’d never take it for granted again.