#was listening in on a conversation between my younger brother and his friend

[mywritersmind]

NOT SO HAPPY HOLIDAYS - LN4

↳pt.4

christmas special

part one - part two - part three

summary : You’re not a damsel, just someone who happens to enjoy the help of an attractive man once and a while. This goes down the drain as soon as he refuses to kill a spider for you. Christmas is approaching and Lando is inching closer and closer to the nice list, only if he stops mentioning that kiss.

og summary : Spending Christmas with my brothers best friend isn’t my ideal way to celebrate. With my parents in the maldives and my ex calling me non stop, I was hoping for a small town cozy christmas! I was going to get that with Max and his girlfriend until Lando Norris worked his way into the mix.

listen up : kissing! dual pov! mentions of sexual content!

words : 4157

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I thought that I wouldn’t be able to sleep. My mind was already racing after kissing Lando and my thoughts always take over when I'm in my bed.

I couldn’t stop thinking about his lips on mine while I brushed my teeth. Or his hands under my shirt while I braided my hair. But the second I slipped under the covers, honestly wanting to over analyze the moment, I fell asleep.

There was one catch though. A glaring and irritatingly obvious catch.

I dreamt about him.

It wasn’t horny or scary, it was just… him. We sat on the couch and watched a movie. I don’t remember what he was saying, just remember how he looked in the firelight.

I woke up actually sad that it was over.

⋆༺

I barely talk to Lando in the morning, there’s definitely no time for any sort of conversation revolving around our secretive kisses.

Do I even want to talk to him about it?

Yes and No. I need to understand what it was but I’d also like to not embarrass myself and become another one of his one night things.

And then there’s Max and our little friends christmas. P definitely is sending me suspicious looks when I drag her to sit with me in the back seat instead of Lando.

Lando and Max sing christmas songs the whole way to the rink. Yes, you heard that right.

The rink.

It’s outside and I've never been more bundled. In a thick pink scarf and puffer jacket, I struggle to get my ice skates on. Lando sits next to me, hitting my arm as he tightens his skates, gripping the laces with how ungloved fingers.

He ties his into little bows as he says, “Need help, Sunshine?” I blink, for some reason, the nickname catches me off guard.

Max and P are already taking photos together as I nod, not even saying anything before he kneels in front of me, “I’m not some damsel in distress, you know.” I say as he takes my foot between his knees.

His curls are refreshed, those green eyes glancing up at me as a small smirk tugs at his lips, “I’m aware. Are you worried I think that?”

He tightens the laces, “I just want you to know I can do things for myself.” Even with snowboarding, he had to carry me. It makes me feel helpless even if he does look good helping me.

“I know you can, Sunny, trust me.” He moves to my other skate, “You kissed me all by yourself last night.” He says it in a low, quiet voice. Tieing off my skates and tapping my knee.

He's not smirking anymore, just looking at my partially shocked face. Lando stands, walking away as I wobble on my feet to get to the ice.

Contrary to my walking on the ground skate skills, I’m great at skating on actual ice. I used to skate when I was younger, Max had his one thing with karting and I wanted that.

For me, It wasn’t skating. But I did find a certain love for the cold sport.

Lando however, is not multi talented when it comes to sports. He grips onto the side rain as Max and P hold hands next to him.

I snap a picture of him where he looks utterly distressed. He frowns at me laughing at him, P joining, “Lan, we should get you one of those crutch things.”

His jaw drops at the implication just as a kid skates by, holding the plastic helper. “Help me out here.” Lando reaches for Max’s arm but my brother pulls it away quickly.

“You’re on your own for this one, bud.” He leaves as P starts speeding up. The rink isn’t too crowded which is good especially for the time of year.

Lando looks at me, uncomfortable and annoyed at the kid behind him who yells at him to hurry up, “Fuck no.” I laugh and start skating backwards, “It’s not that hard.”

He chuckles a bit, “That’s what she said.”

I frown and start to leave but am abruptly pulled back by Lando’s hand on my arm. He’s let go of the side and is grabbing my arm with impressive strength.

I roll my eyes and move his hands to mine, turning around so I can face him. It’s taking everything in me now to laugh, he’s hunched over in a dior jacket as his ‘4’ necklace dangles. “Look at me, Norris.”

He looks up hesitantly, “Stand up straight.”

“Yes Ma’am.” He winks and I almost let him go but he holds on tighter, his rings indenting into my gloves.

His posture improves as Max and P pass us, but I don’t even think he sees them because his eyes are on me.

He laughs a bit at the kid who zooms past us, and starts getting the hang of it more, “There you go…” His smile widens as we start up faster, then promptly trips.

“I’m feeling humbled.”

I laugh, “You should be. You’re shit at this.” He pulls me closer and I can’t if it’s on purpose or because he just tried to speed up.

Either way, he’s looking down at me and dropping one of my hands so we both face the same way. I go to pull my hand away but his grip tightens.

“You’re not gonna fall on your face.”

“I’m gonna fall on my face.” he says immediately as I laugh a bit and look away. “I need my face!”

“Right… brings in the big bucks at work.” Lando tugs me closer and smirks down at me.

“Are you… flirting with me?”

I bite my lip, shaking my head, “Keep dreaming.”

“Oh I had a great dream last night!” He says, far too chipper for me to fall for his words. “After a quick cold shower, I fell right to sleep.”

I roll my eyes at his words, “Now you’re just boosting my ego, Norris.”

“C’mon, Sunshine. You saw me last night. That fucking movie was torture.” I shiver at the icy air even though my legs are warming up from the workout.

“I thought it was good.” I shrug.

“Yeah well you didn’t have a raging hard-” Max and P catch up to us then and Lando switches his speech seamlessly, “Hard! This is so hard!”

P giggles and takes my other hand so we’re in a row now, the boys on either side of us. I send Lando a look but he doesn’t look at all guilty, just smirking innocently.

Pietra and I leave the boys, allowing me to speed up and do some rounds without my deadweight that is Lando. “Did something happen?” P asks as I dodge a man.

“Lando almost fell?”

“No.” She laughs, “I mean between you two…” oh shit. “I mean, did you take my advice?”

Translation : Did I fuck Lando Norris.

“No!” I say quickly, “I’m not going to either.”

We kissed. We kissed. We kissed.

“Ugh!” P groans as we pass them again, “Just a little holiday fling!”

I shake my head once again, pretending like the best kiss I've ever experienced didn't happen at all. “We just argued all though the movie, he stole my popcorn.”

“You two were pretty quiet when we got home.”

I sigh, “I’m sorry that we didn’t go at it, P!” We did. We would have probably gone further if it wasn’t for her and Max.

I’m soon taken down by my previous weight. Lando literally lands on top of me, sideways, and groaning. I rest my head against the ice, accepting defeat at this point.

“You’re a horrible teacher.” Lando says as he lifts himself off me, kneeling next to me as I sit up on my elbows.

“Excuse you!” I scoff and stand, looking down at him, “You’re a bad student.”

He's smiling still, even as I place my hands on my hips, “Maybe skating really isn’t my thing.” No shit.

I help him up anyway, only because I'm genuinely scared he will claw up my body if I don’t. His hand is warm even against my glove.

He moves it to my hair, smoothing it down a bit and brushing some ice off. It’s odd and so very gentle, “You’re blushing.” He says it almost as a whisper.

“I’m cold.” Is all I say in response, skating off and resting my hands on my hot cheeks.

⋆༺

Our day goes by incredibly fast. After a movie and some take out, we’re all slumped on the couch.

“Max was totally in love with you after the first date!” I laugh, playing with my sweats waistband.

P laughs with me as Max gets red, “It’s not a bad thing to understand your feelings!”

“No, just a bit creepy.” Lando says, his arms stretched around the couch.

“Oh right, Mr ‘I don’t date’!” Max retaliates, putting his arm around P, “When was the last time you kissed a girl that you actually liked!?”

My face goes hot while I reposition myself and laugh with Max and P. I move off the couch and sit next to the fire, doing anything to avoid eye contact with Lando.

He looks like he wants to spill everything, but then remembers his audience and just shrugs, “None of your business, Mate.”

“We should set you up!” P hits Max’s chest repeatedly in excitement as he coughs, “We know someone!”

Max raises a brow, “We do?”

P just rolls her eyes, “I do. I went to school with her, she’s an instagram model.” P starts to pull up her instagram on her phone when Lando eyes me, a bit scared.

“I’m okay, P. I like my life womanless right now, especially Instagram model-less.” I smile at his words and lay back on the carpet.

“I don’t know, I’d be fun seeing you actually fancy someone.” I say, hating the idea but liking the way Lando looks at me.

“Oh would it?” Lando deadpans.

Max pours more wine, “What about you, Y/n? That asshole stuck on you still?”

I smirk a bit and shake my head, glancing at Lando quickly, “No… he stopped calling.”

“I smell a match making opportunity!” P starts.

I quickly shut this down, “I’m off men right now. I don’t want a boyfriend and even if I did, i’m all fucked up from my ex.”

P looks sad but I didn’t mean to bring down the mood! Max sighs, “I knew he sucked from the beginning! Just saying!”

Lando smiles, “You never like Y/n’s boyfriends.”

“This one was extra bad!” my brother whines, “But yeah, so what? You have horrible taste, Y/n!”

I scoff, sitting up, “I do not!”

“You definitely do!” Lando laughs along with my brother, “Remember when you went out with that guy Max HATED in highschool?” He’s laughing harder now as Max’s jaw drops.

“I forgot about him! Fuck, sis, you need to find someone actually good for you!”

Lando sits up, grinning at me, “Yeah like me!”

“Not like him!” Max says quickly, “You’ve got good friends though, Bob.” He’s smirking now, “A certain spaidnard?”

Lando doesn’t look like he finds this funny, “No.”

“I don’t know, I'm into older guys.” Lando looks genuinely horrified at my answer, “Actually fuck Carlos give me Lewis. I’m down to be his controversially young girlfriend any day.”

“Can you not drool over my coworkers!?” Lando stands, “I’m gonna grab some snacks.” He leaves and P practically catapults herself onto the floor.

She kicks her feet behind her, smiling at me, “So… Maybe I have someone else for Lando.”

I raise a brow, “No.”

Max looks at the two of us, “P if you set Lando and Y/n up i’ll-”

His girlfriend turns to him, eyeing the man, “You’ll what?”

Max laughs, actually laughs! “Nevermind. Y/n would never go for him.”

⋆༺

I’m all cozy in my bed when I feel something on my leg. I think it’s just a hair at first, until it starts moving up my leg.

Lando’s in my room in seconds, eyes wide and in only sweats once again. “Why the fuck are you screaming bloody murder!?”

My heart is hammering in my chest as I run over to the door, “There- fuck! A huge spider just crawled up my leg!”

He makes a disgusted face and backs up into his room, “No way.”

I see the thing on my bed still and hop back, pointing, “Lando!” I keep my voice down now because Max and P are definitely already sleeping, “Kill it!”

“No chance, Sunshine! You kill it!” He puts his hands up and I swear it’s just an excuse to remind me that he’s shirtless.

I cross my arms, “You’re the man!”

He scoffs, stepping closer to me so I have to look up, “You’re the feminist!”

I scowl and look back at my bed, “I’m not sleeping there.” I stare at my once comfortable bed with disgust, looking back at Lando who’s smirking. My face drops, “No.”

“If you want to take the cough P spilled wine on, be my guest.” He shrugs and moves back to his room, his bed is screaming to me, I swear!

I look back at mine room once again, grabbing my hoodie and pushing past him, “Hands to yourself.”

“No problem…” When I turn around, he’s staring at my ass.

He climbs into bed after pulling a shirt over his head. Very polite of the man I was on top of yesterday.

I try to sleep immediately but am stuck looking out the window that Lando keeps open. I can see the snow falling onto his balcony, his slides are outside and getting covered by the white powder.

Lando shifts next to me and I'm suddenly ultra aware of his warmth. I can hear his breathing and my heart starts beating faster. I hate him. I hate him for making me feel like this.

“You awake?” His voice scares me in the dark, shifting to my side to look at him. I can see him lightly in the shadows, the moon adding light to the room and letting me see a strip of his face.

He’s so close that I can see the faint scar on his nose. “Mhm.” I mumble.

“I can’t sleep.” He whispers, “I’m scared that there’s gonna be a spider.” I can’t help but laugh, covering my mouth as he smiles across from me.

“Remember that time…” I giggle, “That one halloween.”

His jaw drops a little, “Holy shit. I blocked it out of my memory!”

I roll my eyes, “You screamed like a little girl when that fake spider fell on your head.”

“Fell!?” He whisper yells, “You threw it at me!”

I shake my head, “You took half my candy. It’s called redemption.”

“I was trying to flirt with you.” He admits as I laugh a bit, “Shut up, I was fourteen!”

“Aw don’t be embarrassed.” I smile, “It’s cute.”

His groans and shoves his face into his pillow, mumbling, “You know what, sunshine? You still manage to make me blush the same as back then.”

I groan, sitting up and resting my head against the headboard, “Stop.”

He sits up with me, leaning back on his arms and looking at me, “Stop making me blush first.”

I shake my head, “It’s not my fault you l-” like me. He can’t like me. Fuck he cannot like me! My smile drops and I look down at the comforter.

“It’s not your fault I what?” His tongue darts over his lips, his eyes locked on mine. I shake my head slowly and he starts again, “What do you want for Christmas, Sunshine?”

I blink, “It’s in two days. You still haven’t gotten me a gift?”

His smile is back now, “Maybe. Maybe not. I still want to know what you actually want. Hey, if it’s me, I won’t protest.”

I bring my feet under me, getting the sudden urge to run my hands through his hair, “You're too cocky for your own good.”

“Getting kissed by a pretty girl does that to a person.” His voice is deeper, more tired. Which makes me more breathless.

His shirt is riding up a bit, the blanket and his sweats tugging down so I can see a sliver of his stomach. “You’re not gonna let that go, are you?”

“I’ll stop joking about it, if you want.” He shrugs, “I can’t promise I won’t stop thinking about it. Or you.”

I lean closer, “Were you born a flirt?”

He smiles, toothy and happy, “Yes. And you love it.”

I give in, just a bit, “Maybe.” I sigh, looking at Lando as his eyes pierce mine. Maybe I like it because I shouldn’t.

Maybe I like the idea that no one in this house knows I'm in his bed.

Maybe I like that he hasn’t tried to kiss me.

“I know what I want.” Lando swallows, leaning closer as he nods, “But I'm not waiting until christmas.”

Maybe I like him a bit more than I planned.

I can feel his breath, smell his shampoo, “I'm a very generous gift giver.” His eyes flick down to my lips as I don’t say anything, “Use your words, Sunshine.”

“Kiss me.” He leans in but I stop him, “But, Lando. I can’t- I want this to stay quiet. Just us, quiet.” He looks hurt for a second but nods.

“I can stay quiet.” He whispers, his lips an inch away from mine, “Can you?”

I gasp a bit when his lips lock over mine. His hand on my waist. He’s slow and sensual, his body pushing against mine with none of the pressure or nerves I've felt with other men.

I think a part of me was meant to kiss Lando.

He slips his hand under my shirt, mumbling through the kiss, “Tell me to stop and I will.”

I groan as he moves off my lips, kissing down my jaw and finding my neck, “Don’t.”

⋆༺

The next morning, I sit by the window of my room, reading with the door open. I have my headphones on and am so engrossed in my book that I don’t even realize Lando was watching me until Max’s footsteps heavily move across my room.

Lando watch’s his best friend join me while just slowly walking past, into his room. I hate this. I hate him.

My brother sits opposite of me, “Hi.”

“Hey?”

“How are you?” I raise a brow at my brothers words. He never is weird and casually like this and he can definitely see the confusion on my face. “Okay, I need to talk to you.”

“Go ahead…?” I close my book and watch him speak nervously. “Seriously, you’re freaking me out.”

“It’s nothing bad!” he says defensively, “It’s just…” He looks to the door and whispers, “I think Lando fancies you.” This is a very weird turnaround because he said he knew I wouldn’t go for him last night.

My jaw actually drops. Like I’m genuinely shocked at his words. “Um no he does not.” My mind goes to Lando from last night.

Lando on top of me.

Lando’s hair in my hands.

Lando’s face between-

“I’m just saying, be careful. I know him.” My brother knocks my foot with his so i’ll pay attention again.

“So do I… He definitely doesn’t care about me. Not in that way, or any really.” I go to pick up my book again, praying that this conversation will be over.

He stops me, “Y/n, I’m serious.”

“So am I.” I’m serious too. He stopped me before we could go all the way and I think a part of that is my brother's influence and room downstairs. I shut my book, “Lando doesn’t like me, he likes to flirt and he likes to piss you off. I’m an easy outlet for that.”

Max shakes his head, “Don’t let him kiss you.” Oh my poor naive brother…

“I won’t!” I laugh when I say it because I'm lying directly to his face.

⋆༺

lando

“I’m going to the store or else we will stare!” Y/n wraps a thick scarf around her neck, “Anyone wanna join?”

Now think with me here.

If the girl you went down on is looking incredibly beautiful again and asking if you would like to spend more time with her, despite sleeping in your bed with your arm around her the whole night, what would you do?

I guess my real question is, How eager is too eager?

I play it cool, pretending like I’m not jumping for joy in my mind that I've finally gotten to her. “I’ll go.”

She rolls her eyes when Max and P stay silent but I know she’s happy.

The car ride there is quiet, I convince her to let me drive as she reads off the list of things we need. The snow came down hard last night so the fact that we even made it to the store is a blessing.

Y/n is now leaning against the trolley, her back arched as she leans over it and walks. I follow her like a fucking puppy.

“Bacon.” I grab it for her.

“Olives.” I grab it for her.

“Fusilli…” I stop.

“Fusilli?” I groan, “Can’t we have Penne?”

She frowns, looking up at me as I hold the two boxes of pasta. “You’re such a child. We’re not having Penne for Christmas eve dinner.”

“Why not? It’s pesto! It’s only right.”

“Well it’s not very christmassy.” She puts her hand on her hip, her fingers tapping against her waistband. The same fingers that were in my hair last night.

“Wanna go make out?”

She grabs the Fusilli and rolls the trolley away from me. I laugh and follow her. She reaches for the wine she likes but I grab it before she can break anything, handing it to her I say, “What else is on that list of yours?”

She sends me off to grab tomatoes and garlic. I grab some mozzarella on the way but am stumped while looking for the garlic.

I finally spot it but a woman is standing in front of it, making the tiny food out of my reach. I pretend to look at something else and hope she will go away but am surprised at her commitment to finding the correct pickles.

I finally give up, knowing Y/n will be annoyed if I take too long because her ice cream might melt, “Excuse me.” I say as she steps back.

“Yes?” She looks at me with a smile as I awkwardly return it.

“Sorry, I need to grab the garlic.” She moves and I grab some, “Thanks.”

“No problem, sorry for being in the way.” The way she giggles makes my smile falter, “I like your shirt! Do you like racing?” I’m wearing an old McLaren shirt that I didn’t expect would be seen because it’s so cold out.

I clear my throat, “Yeah.”

“Me too!” Oh god i’m stuck. “I love McLaren as well.” Right….

“Do you follow indy car or Formula one…?”

“Formula one!” I can’t tell if she’s tricking me or just lying. “How about you?” And she’s definitely just stepping closer to flirt with me.

“Indy car!” I step back, trying to go but she keeps talking!

“Formula one is just so glamorous! I went to a grand prix once and…”

“Lan.” My tension is released as soon as Y/n rolls up with the cart, “Oh sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She sounds pissed off and very dry which almost makes me laugh.

“Oh!” the woman's smile turns sour, “Don’t worry.”

“We should go.” Y/n says, smiling politely.

“Don’t want the ice cream to melt!” I agree with her and practically run away.“Awkward that she didn’t know who she was talking to.”

Y/n scoffs, “Yeah I don’t think she actually liked F1…”

I laugh as we approach the checkout and I get a glimpse of her face. “Oh my god.”

She eyes me as we put the items up, “What?”

“You’re jealous.” She looks horrified that I even suggested it.

“I am not!”

“You so are!” I laugh, “Admit it. She was just talking and you called me Lan and you gave her the stink eye!” She doesn’t reply, just finishes with the food and moves to the register. “Do you know how many men flirt with you on a daily basis! Especially this trip!?”

The worker smiles at her and our things get bagged quickly, “Y/n…” I say teasingly as we leave the store.

“Shut up, Norris.” she snaps.

I open the trunk, leaning over the filled trolley to get closer to her, “You can be jealous. It’s hot.”

She goes to say something but shuts her mouth, loading the bags into the car and slamming her door shut.

[snoopychris]

house party

in which... chris needs his brother to get hobbies.

when chris’ parents made his brothers stay in the florida keys during his first semester, he knew they’d cause some sort of problem. nick would whine about always being sunburnt and still not wearing sunscreen or about how he never got laid because there was no cute gay guys around. matt would… well do lots of things. he would be a complete douche to “impress” the ladies, throw parties whenever possible, have a different girl over each week. really the possibilities of what matt could do were endless since he wasn’t in school. even nick was taking online classes. from day one, chris was expecting the worst. 

what chris— and nick, for that matter— never expected was to come back from the library at 11:30 am on a tuesday and see a bunch of unknown cars parked outside of the house. nick’s eyes are wide when he walks inside, noticing an array of people around. he turns around to look at chris, doing nothing more than sending him a look of what the actual fuck. chris hangs his keys up on his designated hook, placing his backpack there as well. he shrugs in response, apologizing to the girl he bumped into. 

both brothers sigh for a moment before matt walks into the room. matt’s wearing a pair of swim trunks with blueberries on them, a matching unbuttoned hawaiian shirt on his shoulders. “oh sick you guys are here. did you get my text? i guess girls here don’t really drink beer and they’re really fighting for those white claws.” he speaks, taking a sip of his beer. he hands the spare can he was holding to chris, receiving a look of disgust from his younger brother. “okay then…” matt mumbles, throwing his arm around the shoulder of the first girl he sees. “hey, hot stuff. i’m matt. threw this party. you come here often? y’wanna come here often?” chris rolls his eyes at matt’s words, heart skipping beats when he sees the last thing he was expecting.

youre here. maybe the party isn’t that bad. chris begins to make his way towards you, stopping dead in his tracks when matt grabs onto his wrist and whispers into his ear. “you’re not staying at my party if you’re not in uniform. bikinis and swimsuits only.” chris looks down at his outfit and then his brothers eyes, knowing how honest his brothers being. he groans as he slips his t-shirt off, throwing it on the messy table. matt smirks in response, going back to his conversation with a new girl. 

chris finally gets over to you, gently tapping your shoulder and pulling you away from your conversation. your smile grows instantly, setting your drink next to you. “hey! it’s you.” you giggle, tucking your hair behind your ear. he knew your dad had money, but he never expected enough money for you to be wearing a pink dior bikini. there’s a different seashell clip in your hair this time. chris still has your old one. the pop of his beer can interrupts the comfortable silence that sit between the two of you, making you giggle again. he wishes that he could record it and listen to it before bed. “i dont think i ever expected you to be at a random party at 11:30 am. i thought you were in school?” you ask, taking a sip from your straw. chris briefly notices how you havent touched your cup since it formed droplets of condensation. 

“its my brothers party… you didnt know? im assuming you heard from a friend or something then?” he quips, a smirk forming on his face. you nod at his words, confirming his suspicions. this time, you learn about him. he.s the youngest of four. he was born and raised in boston. his grandmother recently went back to work at the hospital– its why the party is able to be happening– and he’s studying marine biology. crazy enough, you have your phone with you today. usually its sat forgotten on your bed. chris is bold enough to ask for your phone number and other information and you give it over without hesitation. to chris, its an action that means everything. to you its… an unusual feeling. youre not too sure what it is, but its not nothing.

the music that was blasting in the room a few moments ago is now nothing but muffled noise. everything around you is muffled noise. almost everything. after multiple rejections, matt moves to be stood next to you and across from chris. his hand moves to be sitting on your shoulder, staring into your eyes. you scrunch your nose at the actions, chris letting out a laugh. theres no way matt is trying to make a move on you right now. instead of doing what he should and telling matt about it off to the side, chris decides to pull out his phone and send his brother a few friendly texts. 

yo. 

cut it out

i saw her first 

DIBS.

matt groans when he gets the last text from chris. he throws his arms up in disbelief, earning a laugh from chris. matt finishes off his beer and crushes the can, throwing it in the trash can. “hey!” you gasp, picking it out of the trash and putting it in the recycling bin. matt chuckles at the action, shrugging it all off. maybe he didnt want you that bad after all. chris notices this and decides to pull matt to the side anyway.

“dude you have to cut it out. you cant just be throwing parties and flirting with every girl in sight. youre gonna get a reputation and no not in the cool taylor swift way. in a whore way. and you seem like a dick. and definitely dont flirt with pearl. i called dibs on her… as a friend. you cant take my friend. besides, do you not have hobbies or something? damn.” chris mumbles, running his hand through his hair as he leans back against the counter. matt shrugs as he grabs another can of beer from the fridge, patting his brothers shoulder. he sends you a wink as he walks outside, leaving you and chris stranded in the kitchen. “do you have sisters or something? like i gotta set that kid up with somebody cause throwing a party just to get girls in bikinis here… isn’t normal.” you giggle at his words, licking your lips. 

“i’ve got six. cora, nyx, quin, ocean, and mari. there’s ser too but she doesn’t leave the house much. she’s a very big homebody.”  you reply, taking a sip of your own sweet concoction. chris furrows his brows at you, nodding at your words. the look on his face tells you everything you need to know about his choice.

🫧dividers by @13hoax my angel

🫧tags: @ifwdominicfike @frankoceanfanpage @mattssslutbby @sophand4n4 @matthewsturnsgf @izzylovesmatt @m11rx @chris-hallelujah @sturniolotoast @mattsbrat @wastelandzella @le4hsblog @mattsd0llfac3 @st7rnioioss @isabellewhatt @sturnslutz @ayesha-eroticaa @freshhhloveee @courta13 @sturns-mermaid @ivysturnss @slutformatt17 @emely9274 @princessesgarden @marrykisskilled @zebonos @chrislova @muwapsturniolo @oopsiedaisydeer @throatgoat4u

🫧a/n: crazy enough i dont have a lot to say about this. usually im all yap yap yap but im like rlly... rlly proud of this. arent the dividers so cute tho! kiss kiss! -gen.

[nanamiskentos]

DITTO — Gojo Satoru a rewrite of this post.

prologue. → brave, lucky, courageous. these are the words that people bestow upon you when the dust has cleared, and the king of curses is no more. you disagree, for if you were lucky, gojo satoru would still be standing at your side. instead you've been left to stare at the ocean shoreline on your own, without your best friend (the love of your life) by your side.

pairing. gojo satoru x afab!reader

warnings+. unfulfilled/unresolved love. angst, hurt, comfort, fluff. your usual shenanigans. sfw! implied, minor satosugu (mb because geto is my beautiful sad princess and i love him so he has to be a part of everything). pining, idiots in love. grief, and what you do after you've lost what you treasure the most etc u get it. reader is from an unnamed clan, has a younger brother. reader also wears skirts, dresses sometimes, character death + injury

word count. 11k! 😭 song inspiration. ditto — newjeans / 뉴진스 (2022) a/n. i wrote rough headcanons and posted them yesterday but i woke up thinking dang i should actually write something better about that lmao. update: i thought i'd finish this in a few hours, why did this take me like 2 days? update #2: dawg this is long as fuck...this kinda depressed me to write CROSSPOSTED ON AO3 <3 💙

mp3. do you think about me now, yeah. all the time...

✉️ — 1995. 💬 — gojo.

these meeting rooms were hushed, grand, and the kind of place that simply swallowed up any sound and echo; where the wood-panelled walls were lined with the tapestries and polished symbols of his clan.

and in the hush, gojo had sat cross-legged on the tatami mat, trying to listen to the conversation of the adults, with their low and steady voices that droned on. this was so boring. they were always speaking of things that he just couldn't understand, but his parents said these meetings were important, and so he was dragged along - much to his eternal chagrin. still, he shifted in place, glancing around at the detailed screens painting around the corners of the room, in varying shades of blue.

across the room, there was another kid. one who sat beside her father, fidgeting just as he was. and gojo could tell by the way that you kept glancing towards the door that you, too, longed to escape. your gaze caught his, and there was that flicker of mutual boredom that sparked between you two. you had scrunched up her nose, as if to say 'this is so boring, isn't it?'

gojo grinned, stifling a giggle. he had leaned back, just a little, surveying the adults who paid no heed to him, before letting himself inch across the rough texture of the mat towards the door.

"do you want to see the garden?" he mouthed silently, his words exaggerated and slow, so you would understand.

your eyes had lit up, and you nodded, just as your father (well, he assumed it was her father) leaned down to whisper something in your ear, his voice a low rumble that was far too quiet for gojo to catch. you were nodding obediently, but your eyes were now fixed with the glimmer of excitement, and he quickly held the door open for you as you scrambled out the door, following him quietly as they creaked down the long hallway.

and soon, they reached the back of the estate, where the garden stretched out like a hidden oasis, filled with the flowering bushes, the winding stone paths, and the pond that glistened in the morning light. suddenly, he stopped by the edge of the pond, brushing pale hair out of his stinging eyes, "i'm satoru, by the way."

you had sat down quickly, as though the long walk had winded her (gojo had barely needed to stop to catch is breath), and your robes dipped into the pond, letting the water seep up slowly, "i've heard of you. my parents say you're an only child."

gojo shrugged, trying to think of something important he could tell you, "it's not so bad. one day, i'm going to be the head of my clan," puffing up his chest a little.

you had nodded, "i would like to be too, but my younger brother would get it. because...you know."

gojo didn't quite know but he nodded like he understood, and he tried to think of something smarter to say, "well the job isn't that fun anyway. it's just sitting around reading papers, and telling people what to do."

you had pouted, frowning, "i want to tell people what to do all day. and i would get the nicest robes too as clan head."

and you had looked so unhappy at the prospect that you were being robbed of a stellar wardrobe that gojo made up his mind, right then and there, "tell you what, when i become my clan head, i'll make sure you get the nicest robes, how's that?"

your face had lit up, holding your little pinky up to his, "promise?"

gojo linked his finger with hers, sealing this silly vow and laughing, "why not?"

✉️ — 1996. 💬 — you.

when you're seven years old, you’ve resigned yourself to trailing behind gojo, watching as your friend takes on the world with the same reckless, eager energy that he seems to pour into everything that he does.

his voice has picked up a confidence that you haven't felt yet, and there's a permanent, flashy grin on his face that says he doesn't care what anyone thinks about him, not his parents, nor his clan.

and today, gojo's decided that the old shrine on the edge of your family estate needs exploring. you're a little less certain, especially since your father had told you that this shrine was haunted, but you find yourself following the boy anyway, and there's that silent agreement in place: he leads, you follow. you're alright with that, that's just the way it's always been.

he's dressed, as usual, in a loose grey hoodie that's two sizes too big for him, and his jeans have a hole in the knee; some small rebellion against his clan's strict sense of tradition. even his hair is awfully emssy, tousled and getting a little too long, and you know he hates it when his mother tries to comb it down, and you easily suspect that gojo just ruffles it on purpose to get a reaction out of those around him. he probably does everything on purpose for a round of reactions, honestly.

you, on the other hand, have your nicest lilac skirt on, and there's a small bow in your hair that the maidservants had pinned themselves (your mother had been too deep in her cups all morning). but you had fluttered around, feeling quite pretty in your skirt; like you were a fairy that would sprout wings and live in the clouds.

gojo glances back at you, and rolls his eyes, "you know, you look like you're going to one of the clan meetings," he mutters, but there's a playful glint in his eye. he's pulled a twig from the ground, and he's waving it around like a sword, slicing through imaginary enemies as he marches forward like an idiot.

you just shrug, quietly watching him cut through the tall grass ahead, "i like looking nice," you mumble, a little embarrassed. you can feel the careful way the sweet, old servant (she turned seventy last week!) had arranged your hair, and the press of the bow keeping it every lock in place.

"well, if you ever decide to look like you're not on your way to sit for a court painting, let me know," gojo says, smirking (he thinks he's funny) as he waves his 'sword' around, battling on the false frontlines.

but despite yourself, you laugh, and quicken your pace to keep up with him, and so, gojo slows just a bit, enough that you're walking side by side now, and his arm brushes against yours.

"did you know that they say that this shrine is spooked?" he asks, his voice falling to a dramatic whisper.

"i live here, satoru. obviously, duh," and the shrine comes into view, and it's small, weathered with age, but to you, it looks grand and mysterious, even magical, "do you believe it's haunted?"

gojo shrugs, unfazed, "nah, probably just an old rock. but it would be cool if it was. maybe, we'll see a ghost."

now you've taken a hesitant step back, but gojo just grins, grabbing your wrist and pulling you forward, and his hand is warm and steady in yours.

"c'mon, don't be a chicken," he teases, laughing as he drags you closer, and you plant your feet firmly in the ground, watching as clouds begin to roll over the sky, ominous and gloomy.

oh, this place is definitely haunted. your father was right, it's so over for you now. a massive, ugly curse is going to pop out and eat you alive, and steal your pretty hair bow. you mutter a small prayer under your breath. gojo satoru, you will pay for this.

✉️ — 2000. 💬 — you.

you'd always heard whispers about yourself from the other kids, how you were too quiet, or you tried far too hard to be perfect — unwilling to roughhouse the way they did. perhaps they were right, and it was true that you preferred to sit alone. you think it was the feeling of order you enjoyed, of a world you could control, even if it was just through lines on a piece of paper.

but today, their voices were louder than usual. a small group had gathered near the cherry blossom tree where you'd settle yourself, and they circled around like hungry wolves sniffing out something they could tear apart.

one girl wrinkled her nose and called you prissy (well, okay) and another boy had snickered and muttered that you were so boring, and it was a wonder that you even had a friend like gojo.

ouch.

their words felt like small, precise cuts, sharper than expected. you had heard these things before. after all, everyone had reached the age where they were aware of their abilities, their techniques as jujutsu sorcerers.

you didn't mind your own technique, making sure to channel time and energy to learn so you could grow up and be as good as your father one day (a well established sorcerer in his own right, if a bit out of shape).

but you didn't have to be very smart to know that gojo's abilities stood out entirely in a different way, and you heard your parents whisper in hushed tones at how lucky his clan was to have a child like that. with the right training and moulding, he could be the most powerful man to walk the earth.

how silly. gojo was all laughs, and smiles, and stupid jokes and bright, clever eyes. you thought it was dumb how they all spoke about an eleven year old boy like he was a weapon, kept in its sheath until it was ready to be drawn.

but of course, all the kids wanted to be friends with him instead. and today, these barbs hurt more — and you kept your eyes down, clutching your books a bit tighter, willing for these supposed 'friends' of yours to go away.

but before you could say anything, you heard his stomps.

"hey!"

gojo's voice was unmistakable, sharp and sudden as he clamoured over, all brashness and bravado. he had gotten a bad haircut recently (entirely his own fault for thinking he could put scissors to his own hair, but you had laughed so hard as he swore curses) so white tufts stuck out all over his head, making him look like he got stuck in a wall socket, even crazier than usual.

but gojo didn't look at you, just planted himself between you and the group, bruised fists clenched (they trained him too hard), and shoulders set, "what's your problem?"

the other kids stammered, clearly surprised, but that didn't stop him, he who looked like a small, lanky and angry polar bear.

"you think you're so funny? talking like that? say it again, and i'll knock your teeth out."

"ah, satoru -" you ran your tongue behind your teeth, the last thing everyone needed was another fight of bruised pride, and yanked hair, rolling around in the dust.

but one of the boys had muttered something under his breath, taking a half-step back. the others followed, shuffling, rolling their eyes and looking anywhere but at you and gojo.

and your best friend didn't move until they had scattered completely, leaving behind only the faint echos of their derision as they fled. and then he turned to you, his scowl fading into something kinder (good, you didn't like seeing him so upset) as he dropped onto the bench, beside you, pulling his knee up onto the bench so he could rest his chin against it casually.

"they're just idiots," he said, rolling his eyes, and his voice was softer, playful again, "don't listen to them."

you gave him a small smile, nodding, as the knot in chest loosened a little, "i wasn't really listening to them," you murmured, even though you probably knew that was a bold-faced lie.

gojo released a loud laugh, much too loud and forced, as he nudged you with his elbow, and he must have known it too, but he was smiling, "good, that's the spirit."

You managed a small smile, nodding, the knot in your chest loosening a little.

the world was quiet again as you both sat in silence, the soft breeze ruffling the grass and the cherry blossoms overhead. and then, with a shyer glance, you managed to look over at your friend, watching as messy tufts of his snowy hair moved ever so slightly in the breeze.

"thanks, 'toru," you said, quietly, but he just shrugged it off, brushing it away as though it was nothing.

"hey, what am i here for?"

✉️ — 2003. 💬 — you.

gojo was sprawled across your wide bed, looking at you as if you were the most ridiculous person in the entire world. his own suitcase sat beside him, already paced with the very few things he needed, and now he watched you with that eager, restless gleam in his blue eyes, like he could barely sit still.

"you're so overthinking this," he said, bright voice full of impatience, "just throw some stuff in a bag, and we're good to go. it's just tokyo, not the end of the world."

you scowled at the boy, holding up two sweaters; one sensible in a shade of pale blue, and the other thick, deep red and woollen, "but what if it gets cold? or rains?"

gojo rolled his eyes, throwing his head back dramatically onto your pillow, hands behind his head as he sprawled around like a snooty prince with all the time in the world.

"it's summer, it's tokyo, and it's not like we're moving to america," he smiled, "besides, if you pack any slower, we'll miss our first year."

you tried to brush it off, and something about his easy confidence made you feel a sharp twinge of nerve. this was really happening, you were truly leaving the bounds of your family estates, stepping out into the world, to attend jujutsu tech, a school in tokyo that you had heard so much about. well, there was another school here, in kyoto, but god, it would just be nice to get out of these ancient walls.

and yet -

gojo simply looked like he couldn't wait to shake the dust of his home off his sneakers, you felt something pull at you, like a sudden-appearing string that tied you to your home city, and it wouldn't let you go.

your best friend had caught the look on your face, and softened — just a bit, as he twiddled with a brand new pair of sunglasses, and he sat up closer, watching you carefully, "you're really going to miss it here, aren't you?"

and you shrugged, fidgeting with the sleeves of the red sweater, "i don't know. maybe, i suppose. don't you feel that way at all, satoru?"

he shook his head, resolute, "not even a little," but he saw your uncertainty, "listen, you'll be fine. you'll love tokyo. and hey," he nudged you gently with his knee, "i'll be right there with you anyway."

you appreciated that his confidence felt like a promise, something that you could at least hold onto, even in the big capital, and with a big, exaggerated sigh you tossed both sweaters into the suitcase.

"finally!"

✉️ — 2003. 💬 — gojo.

the both of you had arrived, bright-eyed and tired, as he clambered off the tall bus that had parked on the outskirts of tokyo, where jujutsu high was located.

gojo stood beside you, hands stuffed in his denim pockets, plastering a disinterested expression on his face. but he couldn't help how his eyes flittered to the sid,e underneath the dark shades of his glasses, watching you fawn over another new student, another boy who had arrived from some small town, who-knows-where, from a non-sorcerer family.

geto suguru.

well it was no lie that gojo liked him a lot too. there was no denying that he seemed polite, clever, maybe a bit shy. and effortlessly cool.

gojo had grown up in the stifling, grand estates of the big clans, constantly fussed over, and robed in fine silks printed with his clan motifs. all of those stuffy rules would sit, push around and make space in one's head, like a constant mantra from the elders.

he didn't need to look at you too closely to see what was going on, and he could tell right away, just from how you reacted. your smile stretched wider, and your eyes lit up like you were meeting someone who you really wanted to talk to.

geto who hadn't even changed into his uniform yet, with his stray strands of dark hair falling out of the knot on the back of his head, looking politely aloof, but cheerful, in worn black jeans and converse, and some baggy band t-shirt that would get gojo scolded by his mother for even wearing that inside the estate.

gojo noticed everything, especially the way your fingers slipped up to tuck your hair behind your ear when geto grinned at you (all because you’d recognised the band on his t-shirt, so what?) he saw how your eyes brightened, like geto suguru had unlocked some hidden code only you could decipher.

it annoyed him to realise that geto's calm, quiet charm was exactly the kind of thing you’d be drawn to. that’s what you liked, wasn’t it? the understated, thoughtful types who let the world come to them. not the loudmouth who cracked jokes at every opportunity, hoping to pull a laugh from his best friend.

well, fuck, he had to be a part of this too now.

✉️ — 2005. 💬 — both.

gojo's new obsession had a sleek, silver body and an olympus logo stamped on it in black, a camera that he'd been itching to buy; refusing to settle for anything less than the latest model. suddenly, he was determined to capture tokyo through his own eyes, and you and your friends had quickly become his reluctant muses on an impromptu day trip to the ameya-yokocho market.

"stop! stay right there, don't move! fuck, no! a little to the left!"

he waved his hands around, motioning for everyone to gather just as he wanted. you all exchanged amused glances, with shoko huffing around dramatically, as gojo crouched down on his long legs, then stood back up, and then crouched down again, as one of jujutsu high's most powerful sorcerers struggled to bring a camera into focus.

eventually, geto had laughed — raven hair falling over his beautiful face, and had gotten up to help gojo, fiddling with the lens as the rest of you milled around.

and then, suddenly gojo turned the camera directly on you. he pointed his finger your way, wide grin half-hidden but unmistakably earnest, 'c'mon, turn that frown upside down!'

he needn't have said a word, just seeing your best friend there, with his hair tousled and carefree grin, with the camera strap hanging off his neck, was enough to make you laugh, the kind that felt as bright as it sounded.

and so, you found yourself standing in the middle of the bustling market street, surrounded by friends and fellow students, and the lively hum of the weekend crowds, as you looked directly into the lens, with your smile softening under his gaze, as though the rest of the world had blurred into the background.

afterwards, gojo had taken a good look at the photo, and he didn't say much, but the look on his face lingered, almost like he was seeing something that he wasn't sure he was allowed to hold onto. you had shyly asked him later, coming up beside his shoulder, whether he had printed a spare copy of the photo, but he shook his head with the lie rolling off his tongue.

love was a selfish endeavour, to its core. he wasn’t about to tell you that he wanted to keep that photo for himself. and later, when no-one was looking, he slipped the small print into his wallet, right between his train pass and some spare change.

✉️ — 2006. 💬 — you.

your best friend, your dear satoru, had always been resilient; the kind of guy who threw himself at life with reckless energy, shrugging off injuries like they were just a part of the ride. he'd laugh off a scraped knee or a bloodied lip, flashing that cocky grin and a shrug as if pain was something for other people.

life for you went on, with your own routines and small moments. you learnt long ago that you didn't quite possess the natural, raw sheer jujutsu power that gojo had (or geto for that matter) but you could certainly hold your own in a scuffle. regardless, you had chosen to turn to academics, flitting between classes and study sessions, arm in arm with sweet shoko.

there was joy in sneaking off campus with friends, or scrolling through lists of new albums to download onto your mp3 player (you had been partial to the south korean boyband, tvxq!).

and so, life seemed both incredibly mundane and slightly electric, with days marked by shy smiles and inside jokes, with walks home on the streets wet from the spring rain.

but it had been late summer when gojo had returned from that last mission, when the days were still long and hot and the afternoons were bathed in a thick, heavy amber. and he had come back...different.

he moved carefully, as though each step was suspicious and took more effort than he'd let on, and his usual bright glimmer was dimmed, his laughter quiet, and his smiles withheld like a rare currency. he'd sit through the long evenings with you, in silence more often than not, hands stuffed into his wide pockets as he stared at a place that you just couldn't reach.

when you'd catch him alone in the courtyard after class, he'd be training hard, working through his cursed techniques with a relentless focus, perfecting each hand gesture as if he could shake off whatever shadow lingered behind him. and sometimes, he'd stay for hours after school, practicing beneath the dying and dusty light of the last days of summer, as if he could not afford to stop, to rest.

“gojo?” you called, hesitating as he finished a strike to some poor unsuspecting pile of soda cans, leaving them obliterated in the heat. “what's going on with you?”

he paused mid-motion, glancing at you, his face carefully blank. and you hated that, you hated how the flicker of distress would pass from his face before being schooled into that carefully constructed mask of 'the strongest.'

i love you, idiot. i love you, i love you, tell me what's bothering you and i will help, you're my best friend.

but these words never saw the light of day, always curling up and choking up in your throat, and instead being twisted into feigned, casual interest. losing the cloak of deep devotion that you held for a friend of ten years.

"oh - hey! nothing," gojo replied, too quickly, with that half-cocked smile that painted over his pink lips, "nothing that deep."

lately, this repeated lie had been hanging in the air between you, clear as the last streaks of summer sunlight that would soon give way to fall.

you crossed your arms over your uniform, dark fabric crinkling, "you're not fooling anyone, you know. geto told me about the mission, he said that you —," you swallowed, with the words just as heavy as the steadfast beat of your heart that you kept under lock and key, "he said you shouldn't have come back. what does that even mean?"

gojo's face flickered again, just for a second, before he barked out that irritating, false chuckle, "guess it's a good thing you weren't sent on tengen's fuckin' mission then," before reaching out and snatching your strawberry milk carton from your hands with a grin.

after a few punctuated slurps and lip-smacking (just to watch your face redden in fury, gojo would admit) he spoke again, voice strained, "you'd probably be crying about it still."

"hey!" you protested, grabbing for the carton again, prying his slender fingers off your sweet treat, "i don't cry that easily."

"could've fooled me. you cried during that american movie about zoo animals."

"madagascar was a sad movie about displacement and the loss of home! i know animal rights activists hate to see your ass coming to the zoo."

gojo snickered, drawing out the words, "fuck that zebra," but now, he was looking off into the golden haze of a beautiful sunset, with that frayed grin, "seriously, though. it's fine, it's all in the past."

over time, gojo never spoke many a word about what happened to the star plasma vessel, but he just seemed to move forward, like he always had. his resolve somehow sharper, tighter, and his laughter more intense when it finally did return. there were moments when you'd catch him staring into the great expanse of nothing, haunted (but beautiful), though he'd just shrug and smile when you prodded him about.

✉️ — 2007. 💬 — gojo.

gojo thought he was astoundingly self-aware, in his own humble opinion. he never let anything get to him, that was the trick, you see. to take life as it came at you, to carry that fire and stubbornness and throw it back in the face of the trouble.

and so he wanted to be angry, to be furious. why had suguru done this? why?

he had known that geto, one of his dearest friends (one who always been so sure of himself) had fallen into disquiet lately, and even gojo had prodded him on whether he had lost weight through sleepless nights. but suguru would have just turned his head back to his book, lost in thought, with his dark hair loose around his face.

had he been blind? how had suguru's silence been covered by what gojo (privately) considered his own loud, defiant return? no, he knew of ghosts. he knew that some spirits and spectres could not be shaken, and sometimes when gojo himself closed his eyes, he could feel the sharp sting of an assassin's blade ramming through his throat, leaving him for dead.

but to murder over a hundred innocent people...

you had found him alone that evening, where he had sprawled over the stairs as the sunset blazed, painting them aglow in dusky hues. but gojo could barely notice any of this beauty, and so he just stared, lost in his thoughts that wouldn't settle.

(are you the strongest because you're satoru gojo? or are you satoru gojo because you're the strongest?)

he didn't hear you approach, until you placed a gentle hand on his shoulders, causing him to flinch, surprised out of his sorrowful reverie.

the warmth of your touch steadied him, and he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, and he wondered how you could always seem to know exactly when he needed you most.

but the thought twisted, sharp and bitter, for what if you would follow suguru the same way? had you not often looked at geto with light in your eyes? and you had never looked at him like that.

what if, someday, you left him the same way? what if you turned around and saw someone else worth following? he couldn't help his fists from clenching, tension rippling down his shoulders and painfully gripping his head.

"suguru..." his voice came out quieter than he meant, with a crack that he couldn't quite hide, and he heard you sharply inhale, "i can't believe he's gone. i don't know if...if i'll ever see him again. why would he -?"

you still didn't say anything, just tightening your hand on his shoulder. and satoru hated it. hated that he wanted to lean into the weight of your touch, hated that this is what being the strongest now entailed. that now he was plagued by fear, of losing you, of watching you slip through his fingers into another's orbit.

i'm only seventeen. what happened to my youth?

the thoughts are acidic, cynical and they leave him angry (with the world, with the higher ups, with himself, with his parents) and he can't help himself from blurting out the next question.

"did you like him?"

gojo tries to keep his tone light and casual, but he loathes how he sounds pleading, heavier. he feels the embarrassment of vulnerability shroud him as you meet his eyes, and he hates how your eyes are teary too.

you shouldn't cry. ever.

"like? as in like?"

"as in love," gojo mutters, "shoko said you did."

you sniff, and now your head is leaning on his shoulder and he can inhale the scent of your shampoo (apples? caramel?) and despite the crick in his neck, he lowers his shoulder further down so you are more comfortable.

"shoko talks too much sometimes," you laugh weakly, "but probably. i think i did."

gojo tries to tamper down the acrid lurch in his stomach, but you continue, "i think i did love him. but so did shoko. so did nanami, and haibara back when, -" you sigh, "and so did you. we all loved him. he was our friend."

his fingers had been hovering close to your hand for a while, almost as if he couldn't help himself, the pull. finally, he slid his smallest finger to let it curl around yours, drawing out a memory from over a decade ago.

"tell you what, when i become my clan head, i'll make sure you get the nicest robes, how's that?" "promise?" "why not?"

how silly that the hardest things in life had once been a bored child, and his new friend who fretted about her future wardrobe.

and when you clasped in hand entirely in its return, gojo's breath caught, his throat tightening. the words that he wanted to say, to spill from his throat, hovered in his mind but there was no infinite word strong enough to bring them out.

he wasn't an idiot, he wasn't daft and unobservant, he knew exactly what he wanted to say to you, to tell you from his lips to yours. but the way his heart laid itself bare in that moment unsettled him deeply, not the yearning itself, but how fierce it was. it disgusted him, the rawness of his desire, exposed right there in the open, where anyone could see it, including you. especially you.

with a realisation that was long coming, beneath the golden wash of the setting sun, he sighed deeply. if he ever lost you, if you ever looked at him with the same betrayal that he'd seen in suguru's eyes, he didn't know if he could survive it. it would cut deeper than his infinity could bear.

he tried speaking again, "if you ever -" but he doesn't get the chance to speak before you're leaning further into him, a quiet sniffle punctuating the silence.

"i won't."

✉️ — the next decade... 💬 — you.

"sweetheart, honey, my precious pumpkin pie."

you shot gojo a death glare, his attempt at flamboyant charm bouncing right off you, "i hate you. never speak to me again."

and your gaze dropped to what was left of your beautiful hermès scarf, once a beautiful concoction of cream-white silk, now reduced to tatters that fluttered pitifully in your hands, stained with some suspicious green goop.

you had cherished this pricey product, but gojo, in his infinite wisdom had decided to pick it up as a perfect blindfold right before a gnarly mission. and so, it got tangled with a nasty curse, and met its tragic, shredded end.

gojo raised his brows, feigning the innocence of a cherub, blinking his long lashes, "i'm sorry, i'll get you a new one, baby."

he drew out the pet name with exaggerated gusto that made you snarl, "enough with the pet names. you are a grown ass man."

and you gave him a first shove in the ribs that made the strongest sorcerer in the world stagger dramatically, only to catch himself with that easy grin still plastered on his face.

but before you could storm off and mourn whatever was left of your one-million yen possession, gojo darted in front of you, blocking your path with his ridiculously long arms. "come on, let me make it up to you, what if i had died on that mission?" he pleaded, looking at you with mock sincerity.

"i wouldn't have even come to the funeral," you sniffed, sticking your nose in the air, ignoring the fake choking sounds that came from the man as he clutched his chest.

months had turned into years, where you and gojo had grown up and graduated jujutsu tech together, carrying triumphs (you won valedictorian, out of a grand total of eight students), losses (gojo was a notoriously bad driver and almost crashed the car that the two of you were in) and countless moments in between.

the two of you had returned to your alma mater as teachers, and mentors, guiding younger sorcerers who were much like you'd once been; eager, impatient, and a little rough around the edges.

gojo took to teaching like he did most things, with his own reckless charm and devil-may-care attitude. he'd joke about skipping staff meetings, but he'd be there anyway, leaning back in his chair with his legs sprawled underneath him, mouthing snarky comments that only you could hear.

you'd like to think you'd grown more confident, no longer the uncertain teenager who used to glance at herself twice in the mirror. time had given you the chance to learn your strengths, and exorcising curses had left you all the more enduring.

gojo had noticed, though he'd never say it outright. he'd make some teasing comment about the way you would boss around a room, and you'd roll your eyes as you nudged him telling him that you had learnt from the biggest ego in tokyo. but sometimes, he'd watch you a little longer than he should, with that flicker in his gaze that he thought you hadn't noticed.

some things hadn't changed at all, and he still came back to you after every mission, every right. you'd hear him shuffling in from down the hall, his paper bags of desserts swinging as he tried to balance it along with his jacket, and whatever ridiculous trinket he'd picked up for you that week (you kept every single one).

and there the two of you would be, sitting cross-legged on your apartment floor, sharing sweets straight out of the boxes. he'd pass you a slice of cheesecake that he insisted that you simply must try, nudging your hand until your fingers enveloped his.

wouldn't it be a lie to claim that you didn't bask in the warmth of your best friend's gaze, even as he feigned interest in some story that he had overhead from the students on his way over from the school, with his low laughter filling the quiet around you.

sometimes, in the silence that would fall after the conversation ebbed, he’d reach over and trace circles absentmindedly on the back of your hand with his thumb, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. neither of you would move or speak. gojo would be looking anywhere but at you, yet his hand wouldn’t let go, tethering you to him in a way that made the apartment feel smaller — almost as if you’d already crossed some line neither of you dared to talk about.

what a pain to be haunted by someone who was already living and breathing right in front of you. sometimes, it left you nauseous, ill, and even screaming into your pillow after he left, and dialing shoko's number so she could give you an earful.

✉️ — october, 2018 💬 — you.

your car idled at the curb, the sounds of the city filtering in through the barely open window, with the faint chill of the october night brushing against your skin.

gojo looked up from his phone, tapping his fingers on the screen, and there was a sober look on his face that made your stomach twist. you watched as he ran his head through his white hair, and sighed, his eyes still on the screen.

"apparently i was summoned by name," he said quietly, "to shibuya. whatever curtain's been set up is only allowing sorcerers through."

you kept one hand on the wheel, "ijichi reached out to me too, but he wants me covering the perimeter on the other side, away from the metro. but who would summon you by name?"

"i know. do you think it's...?"

"the traitor everyone's guessing about? who else?"

gojo scoffed a little, "fuckin' surprise," he muttered, casting you a glance that spoke volumes of protectiveness, one that made you lurch ever so slightly. his eyes met yours, an unspoken worry passing between you. you bit the inside of your lip to keep yourself from blurting out the words that lived in the forefront of your mind.

and so, gojo reached for the door handle, and you saw him hesitate as his fingers drummed against the door, before pulling his blindfold up, "well, stay safe, yeah?"

you swallowed, trying to find some false platitude to offer back, "hey, i will if you will."

he gave a short laugh that must have not fully reached his eyes, but it softened the rest of his beautiful face in that way that you loved, "y'know, we could have been going trick-or-treating. dressed like idiots, stuffing our face with candy."

"tweedledee and tweedledum?"

gojo snorted, "next year then."

you hummed, "i'll keep that idea then, tweedledumb."

the bow of his lips quirked, and he looked away again before pushing himself out of the car, stepping out onto the suddenly cold, quiet sidewalk (too quiet, where was everyone?)

he paused, turning back to you through the window, as he lifted his hand up in a small wave, and you could tell he wanted to say something else — but the moment passed, and he closed his mouth, smiling instead in that way of his that said everything without a single word. and he pushed his hands back into his pocket, strolling away as you sat there, suddenly ever so lonely in your silent car, as chills went down your spine.

✉️ — october, 2018 💬 — you.

"gojo satoru has been sealed."

what the fuck?

the world has slowed down, every sound muffled as if you'd been submerged underwater. shibuya had left gojo sealed in the prison realm by...no. it couldn't be.

suguru geto was dead. dead, executed. had it not been almost a year? you had mourned, gojo had grieved. and yet, the impossible had clawed its way into reality, leaving you feeling like you were teetering on the edge of something dark and unknowable.

soon the shock twisted into dread, an icy grip that clenched tight around your chest, left the blood draining from your face. god, your hair must just turn as white as his from the stress alone. your best friend, the one who had been beside you in sickness and health.

it was cruel, you thought, to not even be allowed the time to fall apart, now now. there was little space for it in the chaos that had erupted the next day, when waves of curses crashed through the city like nothing you had ever seen. what fresh hell was this, you wondered as you nursed a nasty set of wounds, trailing after (tormented, sweet, far too young) itadori yuji, and his supposed older brother, some blood manipulation user that had done his fair share of damage throughout the night.

the culling games.

the brutality of it shocked you, and several times during the upcoming days, you had to blink back hot tears as sorcerers were summoned, drafted, and thrown into what was quickly a gladiator spectacle, some devilry concocted from geto's, no, kenjaku's mind. and the stakes were not just your own survival, but the students you had mentored — the young souls who had grown under your watch, and needed you now more than ever.

it quickly cost you an eye. a clash with a fierce, blood-thirsty wayward sorcerer had left you bloody and bruised with a clean gash that ran through your right eye, and you had screamed, taken a life even. only the baritone, dulcet tone of the yuji's half-curse brother (choso? a member of the kamo clan? since when did half-curses even exist?) had pulled you away from launching the contents of your stomach over the pavement, as you stared at the crimson dripping off your hands. were you supposed to be grateful that you had survived this, when so many others had not? yuji's tears had kept you awake in the night, his sobs when he thought that no-one could hear him.

gojo's absence had become a wound, raw, with a side of constant ache that you could feel with every waking heartbeat. and so you tried to fight hard with his voice echoing in your ears, remembering the half-smile he'd flash when you'd land a difficult hit, or the grateful look in his eyes knowing that his students were safe.

days blurred together, and nights bled into ceaseless combat, of the terror of being on the run, and still gojo was with you. the thought of finding him, the thought of him being unsealed from the prison realm almost had you blurting false, desparate promises to the sky that you would tell him exactly what you felt for him, bare your heart out in its entirety for him to hold in his hands.

like it had always been.

✉️ — november, 2018 💬 — you.

it was surreal seeing him again, unsealed and standing there against the burnt umber of the sky, rough around the edges but undeniably gojo. nineteen days of living with the ache of his absence, of waking every morning with a hollow flower blooming in your chest, he was here — alive, breathing, real.

but god, it had been so beautiful to meet his blue gaze once more, and that fleeting smile cross his face before he rushed to pull you into his arms, closing the distance and pulling you into his arms with a new strength that almost lifted you off your feet. and if you closed your eye, you could pretend that nothing had happened, nothing at all. that it was just you pressed against the warm, beating heart in gojo's chest, unrestrained and fierce as thick arms pulled you close, filling your senses with smoke, and earth, and long-spilt blood.

"don't you look eye catching?"

you huffed and leaned away from him, slamming your fist on hard muscle in exasperation, but if you hadn't turned your gaze away, you would have seen gojo's eyes twitch as he took in your battle-worn appearance, the scar that ran underneath bandages where an eye would have once been. if you had paid more attention, you would have heard his intake of breath as he ran his tongue behind his teeth, with a vow, a promise.

"guess who's going to kick sukuna's ass so far back to the heian era," gojo murmured, and you let out a shaky laugh that echoes all the way down to the marrows of your bones.

"yeah, i thought you were just all talk."

"i'm still alive, aren't i?" he shot back, cocky and boyish once more, and your eyes traced over him, drinking in every small change, the sharper clench in his jaw, the tautness in his frame, the way his shoulders seemed broader, like he had been carved up in the prison realm anew. and it leaves you melancholic.

in another universe, the two of you were still young, hand in hand underneath the blue sky as the cool breeze ran through your hair. but battles had turned to war, and the night had no time for what ifs.

"hey, don't go worrying about me," gojo murmured, almost as though he had caught the shadow in your heart, and he plastered a grin on his face, stretching his toned arms in some show of nonchalance, but his gaze lingered on the ruins too long, on the mottled group of assembled sorcerers who seemed to brim with new-found confidence at his return.

and when he finally looked back at you with a new dullness in your eyes, a heaviness you hadn't seen in a long time. it left a dead weight in your chest, but you forced yourself to return his own bland smile, playing along with the front he was trying to maintain, "well, i guess i'll have to keep you out of trouble from now on."

✉️ — november-december, 2018 💬 — you.

the month began to stretch and pass in a blur on the endless horizon, complete with the aching and unbearable waiting where you knew something was going to happen, and yet you did not know when and where. shoko had forgone her own exhausation to see to the rest of the wounds, the ones that had festered under bandages and grimes, leaving faint trails over your skin but she had shaken her head sadly when it came to the socket on your face, even she could not restore an eye.

gojo had swapped his suits and jackets for loose martial pants, and a tight black top that had clung to the muscular frame that he'd honed over the years, laughing off your concerns like they were nothing more than passing clouds.

"don't fret," he'd say, "how bad could this be? you know i told yuji once that even if sukuna was at his full power, i'd still wipe the floor with him. you believe me right?"

you weren't sure if his question was cocky, or a plea, and the fatigue had caused you to snap, "and now, yuji flinches when he hears loud sounds, and he's just another kid who can't fuckin' stop wringing his hands in blood! look what you've done to him!"

gojo's eyes had twitched afterwards, the corner of his mouth pulling down, but he hadn't gotten angry. and you hated it. you hated it all.

but you had wanted to believe in him, in his optimism. you wanted to let his smooth words settle into your bones like the warm comfort they should have been. but how could you feel at ease when everyone was now playing a role? each sorcerer in this building was feigning whatever mask or persona that they had painted and drawn across their face, just as you had. just as gojo did.

but nothing was the same anymore.

and neither were you.

the loss of your eye, the streaks of scars on your skin haunted you. it felt cowardly to say, but this was not the life you should have lived. you simply just didn't see yourself as strong enough, and your eyes watered thinking about the days when you dallied under a clear sky, skirts swaying along the grass as you trailed after your best friend, catching fireflies, exploring shrines, falling to the earth in child-like innocence.

the hollow space on your face, the empty socket served as a reminder of what you had survived, of the world that had fallen into pieces. was there anyone here who would recognise themselves in the mirror anymore?

some nights, the world felt impossibly still, and you would sit at the window and press your hands to the cold of the glass as you watched a scarred city sprawl ahead of you.

you didn't turn at the sound of footsteps at first, and you sat there, with your fingers still dancing on the edge of the window. you closed your eyes as you felt him approach, close, but not enough — you wished he would sit by you, press his soft head to your own, close enough for you to hold him in your hands, curl into his skin.

"satoru, can you make another promise?"

gojo's steps had paused, just a breath but it was enough to know that you had his attention. but when he spoke, "please tell me we're not doing theatrics right now," his voice was laced with that same dismissive edge that he always used when he was trying to push the truth far away.

"can't you shut up, just once? promise me you won't let sukuna kill you, i can't even imagine -" and how irritating, and how melancholic (fuck, this was like a bad soap opera) that your throat was already tightening, your voice wavering with tears that you had been holding back for weeks.

for a moment, gojo didn't respond, and he just stood there and you needn't have turned around to know that there was no trace of laughter nor joy on his face. no easy smirk to deflect the gravity of your well-founded fears. and the silence left you cold.

for the first time, you were suddenly hoping that he might say something blasé, to tell you to stop worrying, to brush it off and just reassure you. but he didn't, he was quiet.

and so you turned to face him, and you felt almost villainous for verbalising your future grief like this, to one who must already have carried such an eternal, heavy burden.

no longer did the blue of his eyes shine like a spring sky, with feather-like clouds that danced in his iris. now, there was only a fractured storm. and god, you loathed that for the first time in what must have been years, his own face was reddening, his eyes suddenly teary, clouds gathering torrential rain.

you knew he hated being seen like this. over a decade of holding him close to your heart had made you privy to his ways, to the way that he'd furiously rub at his face when upset, as if he could will the distress away and hide his tears.

gojo had outstretched his little finger towards you now, hooking it with your own, and your heart stuttered as he brought your finger to his lips, so quick that a ghost may have brushed your skin, with the seal of a promise.

"i will try. god, i swear, i...i promise, i will try." and you knew that gojo satoru was scared, terrified even of what december 24th would bring.

"i -"

you wanted to say it all, wanted to tell him everything. but the words stuck in your throat, love and want and need and ferocious, capricious grief all sat lodged within your beating heart that was so tightly bound in iron chains.

it was a shameful thing. you should have sat there, and comforted him instead. should have told him that it was alright, and you did not know a more powerful and capable sorcerer than he, that he'd leave sukuna in ashes. should have laid your hand on his brow to soothe the lines away from his pale, streaked face.

but you had always been selfish, held onto your heart like a being of folklore, guarded and self-assuming. you wept heart-aching tears, feeling them pool in your sleeves, and run hot salt trails over your lips. maybe it was a testament to how much gojo satoru loved you too, that he could not bear to see you in such grief, and he hesitated.

then he turned to leave you by the window.

✉️ — december 24, 2018 💬 — you.

the turn of the year felt cold, far too chilly, even though the night was still young. the city lights twinkled in solitary clumps outside, but they were just as dim as the heavy weight in your chest. the walls seemed to close in as gojo prepared to leave, to face sukuna — the king of curses. and you couldn't shake the feeling that something was slipping through your fingers, something that you would never be able to grasp again, no matter how tightly you gripped.

everyone had wished him luck, calling your their bravest words of encouragement as he walked past them, their voices echoing through the hall, as they slapped him on the back.

they all cheered the same platitudes.

"go fuck sukuna up!"

"language!"

"sorry, choso."

"show him what you're made of!"

"prove that you're not just a pretty face, gojo!"

and so you had plastered the same smile on your face, hoping that it would reach your eyes as gojo winked at you, "hey, before you start telling me off, now it's your turn to promise me something."

you had cocked your head up at him, ignoring shoko's narrowed, tired eyes, "yeah?"

"mhm," satoru nodded, pulling his arms around you, "after this, after all this bullshit, we get to take a vacation."

a barked laugh escaped you, before it collapsed into a giggle, "you want paid leave? that's all it is?"

your best friend's large hands gripped you, flat against your back, "yeah, that's all there is. we're gonna go take a holiday, sit by the beach, watch the ocean. keep it simple."

"a picnic too, eh?"

gojo nodded, humming, "we'll plan everything. about time we got to take a break. i'll be back before you even know it."

you felt his voice hitch against your ear, and your heart twisted painfully in response, he wasn't saying it but you both knew the cold truth, there was a real chance that he may never come back. before your vision could blur, you pressed his lips to his cheek, letting them linger for a moment on smooth skin (and you felt his arms tighten around you) and hoped that whatever you hoped to say, whatever spine you lacked, could be expressed so swiftly.

"come back then, please. i'll be ready." you whispered between his skin and your lips, the tremble leaving no space for air in your lungs.

for a moment, he didn't answer, just held you, and you tried to focus on the feeling of his chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths. then, just as you were about to pull away, he spoke, the words falling from his mouth, so familiar and so effortless.

"of course i will. i always do."

there was a flicker of something raw there in his eyes, and you had seen it both before and after shibuya. his lips parted as if he were about to say something, but whatever it was, it never came. instead, he just nodded, a silent promise — unspoken, but felt deep in your bones.

without another word, he turned toward the door. and just before stepping out, he looked back one last time. that smile, that arrogant, confident smile that always made your heart race —i t was there, but it wasn’t the same. it was stretched thin, fragile. his blue eyes were tired, haunted, and for a moment, you saw the truth — the part of him he always kept hidden. the fear. the doubt.

"i'll be back," he repeated, but this time, it didn’t sound like a joke. it sounded like a prayer. a desperate, half-broken promise from the closest thing that the world had to a god.

you couldn’t speak. your heart was lodged in your throat, and the words that you needed to say just wouldn’t come. you wanted to tell him that you loved him, that you always had, that you were scared to lose him, that the world without him in it felt like a hollow echo of what it could be. but you couldn’t.

instead, you just nodded, your face a mask of emotions you couldn’t express.

and then, with one final look, a look that held everything neither of you had the courage to say — he stepped out into the cold, his footsteps fading into the distance.

✉️ — december 24, 2018 💬 — you.

gojo satoru was dead.

dead. killed.

for a moment, you stood frozen in the doorway of shoko's office, numbness seeping into your bones with a furious grief as you stared at the cold, unmoving form that was once satoru.

fuck, there was bile in your throat as a once lively boy now lay in four pieces, cleanly sliced by sukuna's unforgiving technique, and the sight was a nightmare made so real, something that you just couldn't reconcile with the man who had once been so vibrantly alive.

the warmth that had always clung to him had vanished, leaving his skin pale in the grasp of rigor mortis, and his lips were still flecked with dried blood that had painted a stark contrast against his stiff skin.

and his eyes, those striking blue eyes that used to glint with love and hope and dreams, were now dull, and still open. you had not the heart to close them, for once your hand pulled his eyelids down, you would never see them again, never look into his eyes until it was your time to pass from the circles of the world.

the last thing you’d seen of him had been that cocky grin, that wink that seemed so unbreakable, that laugh that lingered even as he left your embrace. he’d held you, promised you that he would come back, but now, as you stood there, that promise felt like a cruel lie, something that should’ve warned you but instead gave you nothing but hope.

you choked on a breath, your hand coming up to your mouth as you felt the weight of your unspoken words sink down like lead. i should have told him. you’d wanted to say it all, to let him know how much he meant to you, to tell him that he was your everything. but the words had died in your throat, held back by fear, by the delusion that there’d always be another chance, that he’d always come back.

you’d believed him. you’d believed, with every part of yourself, that he’d make it out alive.

but here he was, torn apart, the last shreds of life stolen from him by the king of curses. you had seen him being cut down, like a sheaf of wheat under a god's sickle, how sudden and gut wrenching it had been, and for the second time in a month, you had been on the edge of hurling onto the stone. but this time, the half-curse beside you, choso, hadn't stopped you from losing the contents of your stomach, as instead he had pressed his younger brother's cries to his broad chest, the grief swallowing the entire room.

gojo hadn’t been given the chance to fight back, hadn’t even been able to draw a breath before he’d been torn apart. and that final thought — that he’d been caught off guard, helpless, alone in his last moments — left you feeling shattered, grief clawing at you with merciless hands.

your knees felt weak as you moved toward him, your trembling fingers reaching out to touch his face, cold and unyielding beneath your hand. you traced the lines of his face, memorising every detail, as if somehow, through touch alone, you could keep a piece of him with you. a tear slipped down your cheek, landing on his lips, lips that had once murmured promises, had brushed against your skin in fleeting, unspoken moments. the tear brought moisture once more to the blood that splattered his face, but quickly, it disappeared, drying and taking away any life.

"i should’ve told you,” you whispered, your voice broken, raw, laced with the pain of regret, "i don't know if you ever knew how much i loved you."

you closed your eyes, the silence thickening around you, pressing down until it felt like you couldn’t breathe. your mind replayed every smile, every laugh, every word he’d ever spoken to you, each memory twisting the knife of grief deeper into your chest. the emptiness of the room swallowed you whole, and all that was left was the aching, unbearable reality that he was gone — that the man who had been your best friend, your confidant, your everything, was nothing more than a memory now.

you stayed there, your hand resting on his cold cheek, as if the warmth of your touch could somehow reach him, bring him back. but he was gone, and with him, he’d taken the words you’d never been able to say, the love you’d never been able to give.

and as the silence closed in around you, suffocating and absolute, you knew that part of you had died with him.

✉️ — not so long later. 💬 — you. it could only be you now, for you are the only one left.

the sun was beginning to set as you reached the shore, casting an amber glow over the ocean. the waves lapped quietly against the sand, as a gentle roll becoming a reminder that the world was still moving, even when the battles were done.

even though everything within you felt like it had come to a standstill. you clutched a folded piece of glossy card, and a box. two things that shoko said she found on him, things that she thought you should keep, she added quietly.

and so, you sat down on the sand, letting the evening wind sweep over you as you gazed out at the endless stretch of water. the ocean had always been something you had dreamed of seeing together, an endless horizon that was wild and untameable, just like gojo satoru had been. but he was gone, gone, and that promise would forever remain unkept.

you opened the folded glossy card, wincing as you tried not to press the faded creases further, brushing over the faded edges. it was dated to the fall of 2005, and you bit your lip as you saw your own image stare back at you. when the world had felt endless, and you had two wide eyes to see it with. there you were, that day in the market, laughing in the photo with your head thrown back sweetly, and you wetly laughed as you saw geto suguru's confused expression in the background, clearly exasperated with gojo's photography skills.

a choked sob escaped you as you traced your smile in the photo, so oblivious to what would come. you’d been so happy then, wrapped in a moment that had felt simple and whole. gojo had teased you relentlessly that day, snapping photos every chance he got, and you’d thought he was just being his usual, silly self. you’d never realised he’d kept this one one, never knew it meant enough for him to carry it all this time.

with a shaking hand, you opened the box, revealing the ring nestled inside. fuck.

it was beautiful, impossibly beautiful, as if he’d carefully chosen each detail with you in mind. the diamond glistened in the fading light, flecked with small blue stones that reminded you of his eyes, the eyes that used to light up every time he looked at you. this ring was supposed to be a promise, just as the ones you made when you locked little fingers — a promise he never got the chance to make, a life together that you’d both been too afraid to admit you wanted.

the first tear fell, splashing onto the sand below, followed by another, and then another, until you were trembling, the grief tearing out of you in waves, raw and unstoppable. you held the ring to your chest, clutching it as if somehow, by holding it close, you could feel him, hear his laughter, feel the warmth of his arms around you.

you could almost hear his voice on the wind, that playful edge mixed with tenderness as he called you by one of his ridiculous pet names. sweetheart, honey, my pumpkin pie, followed by your irritated huff telling him to drop those names.

but truly, here was nothing. just the sound of the waves, relentless and indifferent, echoing the hollow ache in your chest.

the what-ifs clawed at you, memories replaying over and over in your mind: moments when you’d almost reached for him, almost whispered the words, almost let your heart break free. but each time, you’d held back, too afraid to disrupt the delicate balance between you, too certain there’d be another day. but now, those moments were gone, scattered like dust in the wind, and the weight of those unsaid words felt unbearable.

you pressed the photograph to your lips, closing your eyes as if you could summon him back, if only for a moment. but when you opened your eyes, all that greeted you was the empty horizon, stretching out into nothingness.

"i love you,” you murmured, voice broken, barely more than a whisper. "i love you. i always loved you."

the words hung in the air, unheard, unanswered. it was too late, too late for confessions, too late for promises. the life you’d wanted with him, the life he’d carried in his pocket with a ring and a photograph, was gone, lost to the cruel twist of fate that had taken him from you.

you stayed there on the sand as the sky darkened, the weight of his absence pressing down on you like a storm. the wind whipped around you, cold and biting, and you shivered, clutching his ring, his memory, as if that alone could keep you grounded.

as night fell, the stars began to appear, dotting the sky with fragile points of light, distant and unreachable. and you sat there, letting the grief wash over you, lost in the silent, aching expanse of the ocean and the memories of a love that would remain forever unspoken, forever unfulfilled.

wasn't love the greatest curse of them all?

[noyasmashing]

Current fave idea is the karasuno gang meeting up after they graduate to catch up, and there's a person there none of them recognize(Sugas younger sister by like a year) and one of them (noya, tsukki, tanaka, kageyama... tsukki.. I'm bias lol) catches her eye, and suddenly, they're back at her apartment crying out for her

OML I love when i get specific requests they r so fun to write 🙈

Sub!Tsukkishema x Fem!Reader

CW: Alcohol usage, cryin, overstimulation??, objectification, nasty (unprotected) pnv sex, chocking (mention of it at the end), kinda sadistic reader tbh, bondage, foodjob??

The old Karasuno team was gathering at their previous haunt, the local ramen shop near their high school. It had been a while since they'd all been together, and they decided to meet up, along with some other mutual friends from back in the day. As they chatted excitedly about their lives post-graduation, reminiscing about their volleyball days, there was someone among them they couldn't quite place.

Nishinoya, ever observant, noticed a young woman sitting quietly at the edge of their group. She was sipping her ramen and listening intently to their stories, occasionally smiling or nodding along. "Hey guys," Nishinoya interrupted, "Who's our new friend here?"

They all turned to look at her. "Oh, I'm Koshi’s younger sister," she replied with a warm smile. "I heard so much about all of you from my brother. It's nice to finally meet you!"

Nishinoya's eyes widened in surprise. "Suga's sister? Wow, I didn't even know he had a sister!" he exclaimed.

"Yeah, I'm a year younger than him," she explained, her hand circling the tip of her glass, the alcohol bringing the rosiness out of her cheeks.

Tsuki gazed at the girl seated in-front of him. Truth be told he didn’t really notice her until Nishinoya had said something, but he couldn't help but be intrigued. This girl had a familiar spark about her—maybe it was her smile, or the way she listened so attentively. She seemed to share Suga's kindness and warmth.

Throughout the evening, Tsuki found himself stealing glances at her. he didn’t know what it was, maybe her easy going demeanor, or her smile when she giggled at one of Hinatas dumb jokes. He wasn’t used to looking at someone and not wanting to immediately insult them.

As the night progressed, Tsukki discovered himself engaging in more and more conversation with her. Normally not one to talk much, he was content listening to her stories from high school, her interests, and more.

They hadn’t noticed the time passing until others started saying their farewells and leaving the venue. Amidst the commotion of the crowd, Tsukki momentarily took his eyes off her, and just like that, she vanished. He anxiously scanned the dining room, navigating through the sea of people in search of her.

It was safe to say he was hooked. He wanted nothing more but to be in her presence, and he was starting to give up on that idea, as he spotted Sugawara leaving too. Then, as luck would have it, he turned his head one last time and caught her gaze, smirking up at him through her lashes.

She was tucked away towards the back of the shop near the bathrooms, chatting with Nishinoya, casually leaning against the wall.

"Bye, [name]!" Nishinoya exclaimed, before skipping away in his usual hyper manner. She smiled warmly in response, giving him a lazy wave goodbye.

As Tsukki timidly approached her, he noticed a mischievous smirk on her lips. "Were you looking for me, like a little lost puppy?" she teased, tilting her head to the side with confidence.

His cheeks burned embarrassingly red as he shook his head and muttered a quiet “fuck you." He knew she was right, but he couldn't summon the courage to defend himself properly, especially when she stood up and closed the gap between the two. He could feel the warmth of her breath, tinged with the scent of alcohol, and he could almost feel her breasts press against him.

Avoiding her gaze, he looked away, attempting to maintain his usual stoic expression.

"You're all bark and no bite," she grinned again, grabbing his face to make him meet her gaze. His glasses were perched low on his nose, and he peered at her over them, his breath catching in his throat. The only thing on his mind was how good she looked up close.

She grinned at his hesitation, “I have an uber outside, would you like to come home with me, pretty boy?”

And that’s how Tsukishima found himself in this predicament, kneeling with his very own tie binding his hands.

He grumbled in frustration as he attempted to free his hands from the tie once again. He wanted to appear irritated, not willing to admit the reason why his dick was pressing against his pants at that moment.

But, when she leaned down and planted her foot, encased in sheer stockings, against his groin, he could no longer hide it. His lower lip quivered as a whimper escaped him, his hips instinctively moving to press against her foot.

She sneered at him, increasing the pressure as she spoke, "You will take what I give you, understand?" Her previously kind and gentle demeanor was completely replaced by a more intense and commanding presence. Tears welled up in his eyes as he nodded weakly, trying to maintain his composure in the face of her dominance.

She started to glide her foot up and down the length of his pulsating erection. He could feel the sticky mess seeping into his boxers, the urge to remove them growing stronger by the second.

He couldn't help but utter a desperate "please," a plea that earned him a sadistic smile from her.

"Please what, pretty boy?" She teased, her movements becoming more deliberate against his crotch. He felt his entire body heating up as he craved more stimulation. This was unlike anything he had experienced before, and he was on the brink of making a mess in his dress pants.

He took a deep breath before nervously replying, "Can't you use a little more..." his voice trailed off, unable to meet her gaze. He could feel her seductive eyes fixed solely on him, but he couldn't summon the courage to look at her, knowing that if he did, he might climax right then and there.

"Hmm... We wouldn't want you spoiling those nice pants now, would we?" She questioned, tilting her head slightly with a mischievous smile playing on her lips.

He finally mustered the courage to look up at her and replied with a shaky, "Y-yeah," his eyes reflecting a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

“Why don’t you join me up here then?” She suggested, patting the bed where she sat, a warm invitation in her voice and smile.

He stood up shakily, his hands still bound behind his back, but before he could even take a seat, she pushed him onto his back with a forceful yet gentle motion.

“Be a good toy and let me use you a bit,” she instructed this time, her hands deftly moving towards his zipper with a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

With swift movements, his aching member was now free, proudly displayed on his toned stomach. He couldn't help but let out a gasp at the sensation, feeling a rush of embarrassment as she gazed at him with interest.

"A-are you surprised?" he quipped, trying to sound confident even with a blush covering his ears. But she saw through his facade in an instant, especially when his tip was leaking pre-cum, giving away his nervous excitement like a virgin eager for his first fuck.

She sneered at his comment, biting back without hesitation, "Good toys stay quiet for their owner."

His head fell back in utter embarrassment at her sharp retort. Embarrassed at how his cock twitched she said that. Embarrassed that the second her pussy grazed his sensitive member, his hands instinctively pulled at the tie, his back arching in a desperate, pathetic display of need.

As his cock sank into her wet pussy, he let out the prettiest of moans, feeling a surge of pleasure as his eyes rolled back uncontrollably. Her hips rolled forward against him, causing his member to throb with intense arousal. He couldn't resist raising his hips, wanting to be buried as deeply inside her as possible, lost in the blissful sensation.

It didn't help that every time she raised her hips, just to aggressively slam them down, she whispered filthy things in his ears. Her words sent shivers down his spine and added a delicious layer pleasure to every sensation.

"Cummin'," he would slur, as she rode him through his body-shaking orgasm, but she never stopped. He wanted desperately to caress her soft skin, to cover his mouth to muffle the embarrassing whispers escaping him, but she would giggle at his struggles against the restraints. The sensation of her teasing laughter only added to his pleasure, driving him further into a frenzy of ecstasy as she continued to ride him with relentless abandon.

"Such a good... good toy for me," she panted between breaths, continuing to fuck herself on his raging cock. The natural curve in it, plus the sheer thickness of him, was just too perfect.

She brought two fingers to his lips and clumsily pushed them inside, his tongue swirling desperately around them, seeking distraction from the overwhelming sensations. But her fingers were gone too soon, leaving him wanting more as she pulled them away and pressed them against her sensitive clit. The sight of her pleasuring herself with the very fingers that had been inside him moments before was too much for him.

The sound of her gasps of pleasure as she pleasured herself was torture for him, even though he was still buried deep inside her. He yearned to be the one touching her, driving her wild with desire himself. The sight of her lost in her own pleasure, eliciting those intoxicating sounds from deep within her throat, fueled the fire of desire burning within him. He couldn't help but let out a string of whines, the need to touch her, to bring her to the edge overwhelming his senses.

He had likely cum at least twice, doing everything in his power to muffle his moans, even resorting to biting his lip until it bled. But she did not stop for a second, her relentless pace and intensity driving him wild with desire. The pleasure and the pain mingled together, making hot tears roll down his cheeks.

It seemed his tears only fulled her desire, as her hands made their way to his neck. “You would look so pretty with my hands around your throat.”

It became clear that this night was going to be longer than either of them had expected.

[heeseung-min]

[22:00]

Yang Jungwon has been always jealous of his brother. Being first in everything, getting everyone appreciate him, even his parents favor his brother more than him.

"Jungwon, come here. Your brother brought someone. Introduce yourself."

His mother said delightfully. Looks like she is so proud of the person his brother came with. Jungwon rolled his eyes and walked closer to them and finally sees the person his mom was talking about.

Jungwon couldn't explain how he feels at that time. He went speechless when he sees you shyly standing beside his brother while looked at him. His brother immediately introduced your name although that made Jungwon annoyed a little bit because he wants to hear your voice not his brother.

"It's rare for you to bring a girl to our house."

"Well because she is not just a girl. She is my girlfriend."

His mom screamed happily at his brother's remark but Jungwon didn't feel the same. He left the conversation and went straight to the table to dine the food his mom prepared. The dinner went good with his mom asked few questions on you such like when you started dating, about your family, your work and more. The conversation mostly focused on you and his brother. Jungwon wanted to leave the table since he felt his presence is not needed until he heard your voice calling at him.

"What do you do now, Jungwon? Your brother told me you just finished your college weeks ago."

"Um, well I don't have specific job right now. I just do part time when I'm free and at the same time I started planting some of fruit trees at our grandma's garden."

"That's awesome. Is the small garden at the front yard is yours?"

"Yes. I planted some flowers ---"

Jungwon's mother cut him off before he can even finish his sentence. His mom keep asking questions and questions leading to keep your attention focused on her. His brother also didn't care about Jungwon and keep talking between them only. Jungwon huffed slightly and went to wash his dishes before entered his room.

His face flushed when he remembered how focused you were listening to what he said. Usually, his mother or brother didn't pay attention on what he does as long as it's not embarassing their image, it's fine. He felt warm when you genuinely praising him. He loves it.

And maybe he wants it more.

"Do you like the flowers?"

Y/n looked at her behind and found Jungwon slowly walked and crouched beside her and stare at the flowers she was looking at.

"Yeah, the daisy looked so beautiful when I see it in front of my eyes. I didn't expect a man to plant flowers."

"Why? I think planting is really fun."

"Most of men thinking it was too difficult and planting flowers usually done by women. Even your brother thought like that."

Jungwon chuckled when he heard that sentence. Of course, his brother doesn't deserve to have you. Useless prick. He didn't know how to take care of woman properly.

Jungwon and Y/n started to get closer. But Y/n treat him literally like a younger brother and Jungwon is dying to get out of that zone and want more than that. That day, his brother went out to work while his mother was out to visit her friends and Jungwon was pretty sure it will take a long time so he wanted to use the time wisely to spend it with you.

He went out of the room and saw you were sitting in front of the piano on the living room. Seems like you wanted to try to play but didn't know how to so the notes that coming out sounds funny. He walked closer until he is behind you. While you still didn't realized someone has been standing on your behind, Jungwon took the chance to slide his hands on yours and hold it gently. Hearing you gasped and felt your hands shaking a little bit made him smile.

"Jung- Jungwon? What- what are you doing?" You stuttered through your speech. Jungwon didn't say anything but he started to move both of your hands on the piano.

"I'm teaching you." Just a short sentence from him and your tense body slowly relaxing. Little by little, you started to enjoy it and both of you lost in the time playing the piano with each other. Jungwon even taught you some simple songs that you can play on the piano.

"Thank you so much, Jungwon. It feels really nice."

"I'm always here for you, noona."

There are another week left until your marriage with Jungwon's brother. Everything has been prepared but you are still nervous about the ceremony.

"I hope everything will be fine."

"I'm sure it will. We did good so far."

Jungwon's brother reassured you. He knew you are the type to easily get nervous so he did his best to not make it too stressful for you.

"Hyung, can you take mom from her friend's house? She asked for it." Jungwon suddenly said made both of Y/n and his brother looked at him. His brother just nodded and stand up to take his coat before went out of the house.

"Be careful, okay?"

"Will do, baby."

Oh,

Jungwon certainly sure it will not.

Three hours have passed yet your boyfriend and his mother is still not back. Jungwon did told that her mother's friend house is not too far and they should be back in 30 minutes. At first, you tried to stay positive thinking that they may go to somewhere else before going home. However, when your text messages and calls didn't get answer you became paranoid.

"Jungwon, do you think we should go find them?"

"Let me try to call mom's friend first."

Before any of both of you can do anything, Jungwon's phone ringing. He picked up the call and you can read from his reaction, it seems something bad happened.

"Noona....they were in a hospital."

_______

_______

Jungwon's happiest moment in his life was the day he got to married with you. He still can't believe when you said yes to his proposal after few times you've been refusing. The second happiest moment when he decided to sabotage his brother's car that night.

When the doctor announced that his brother and mother did not survive from the car crash, he nearly jumped out of excitement. He had to control himself since you were beside him sobbing uncontrollably. He played his role as a hero so well that you never figure out he was the killer.

"I love you so much, Y/n."

"Love you too, Jungwon."

OH MY GOD YALL🤡🤡🤌HOW LONG I TOOK THIS TO FINISH GOSH SO SORRY FOR DISAPPEAR FOR TOO LONG😞😞i hope yall still didn't forget me

TAGLIST💟: @stacey-stonem @duolingofanaccount @rowretro @eeunoia @soireegurl @obsessed1with1straykids

[soleilnewspaper]

Chocolate and wet dog fur

series masterlist

Summary: You're having a terrible start to the morning and then you get caught staring at two of the prettiest boys in school. Surely it could't get worse. Oh but it those. While learning about Amortentia, your feelings are revealed to the whole class.

Pairing: poly!wolfstar x fem!reader

Warnings: friendly teasing, slight angst, being in love with two people, feeling alone, feeling scared and/or panicked

Word count: roughly 2k

AN: This is my first time posting a piece of my work, so I apologise if it isn't the greatest. However, if you do enjoy it, please reblog or like it. Also, feedback is always appreciated and welcome!!! Thank you taking the time to read this. I truly hope you have a wonderful day. 💗💗💗

You had always prided yourself on being early, exceptionally early at that. Yet with each minute that passed the image you had seamlessly perfected for the world to see threatened to slip through your fingers.

Firstly your magically enchanted alarm didn’t go off. If that was not already bad enough, your roommate took over forty five minutes in the bathroom this morning, leaving you with barely any time to shower and brush your teeth, let alone try make yourself somewhat presentable. Thank god for magic, and for the knowledge of enchantments from one beautiful blonde Ravenclaw who taught you all her secrets. Although she would never dare admit it.

After what felt like nothing short of an eternity, you managed to make it in time to the great hall before breakfast ended.

Your glaze wondered around the room for a few moments before you spotted your friends in the midst of a sea of green and sliver. A soft smile made its way to your lips and you began quickening your pace. There towards the end of hall on the left side where your friends in the midst of conversation. Your bag hit the wooden table with a soft thud, and you took your seat at the table. The chosen table for the group of friends on this particular morning.

You then let out a sigh that you were not quite sure how long you had been holding in for. It felt comforting to be in the presence of your friends. Earring you an arched eyebrow from the younger Black brother across the table.

“What’s the matter, dearie?” Pandora asked, while absently playing with the petals of a flower from the gardens.

“My alarm didn’t go off, and my roommate did gods know what in our bathroom all morning. Then to top it all off, I got caught in a game of exploding snap some first years were playing.” You grumbled in response playing around with the luke-warm toast on your plate.

“How does a witch like yourself, not have an enchanted alarm”. Regulus deadpanned shifting closer to look at you.

“Sod off.” You muttered in response dishing up yourself a plate.

“Don’t listen to him treasure, you look wonderful as always.” Barty added while draping an arm around his boyfriend.

The group of Slytherins and Ravenclaws quickly fell back into their conversation as you finally allowed yourself to take a bite of your breakfast. Your glaze traces the room, before subconsciously falling on two of the prettiest boys in school.

They both sat over at one of the Gryffindor tables, their laughter bellowed throughout the hall. Remus’s lanky frame was hunched over severally decreasing his height. His amber brown eyes were trained on his friends near him. If you look closely, you might just spot the golden flicks on his eyes. Or the way his honey golden brown hair falls in perfect curls around his face. In between laughs he took bites of his peanut butter jam toast. The laughing caused by James dramatic yet failed attempt at trying to flirt with Lily Evans earlier this morning.

You moved your glaze to the slightly shorter boy next to Remus. Oh was he a sight for sore eyes. Non other than Sirius Black, who most recently you cannot stand. Yet he was still pretty.

Strands of black hair falling around his sliver eyes. Dangling around his neck, a tie hang, a truly poorly done one at that. It is not as if he doesn’t know how to do a tie, he’d probably been taught before he could walk. No, this was purposefully done. At least in your mind it was.

The red and gold robes, unmistakably gryffidor draped over his white button down shirt. Multiple rings adorned his long fingers, which were currently being used to try and steal food from his best friend. None other than James Potter. Who was in ‘mother hen’ mode as the boys called it.

You watched the interaction play out between the four boys before returning her glaze to admire her favourite two. Your eyes flick back and forth between them.

There was-

“Are you done staring at my brother yet?” Regulus said coldly with hint of amusement. Of course only for those who had the ability to understand the boy’s affection could detect it.

You snapped her head around at a lightning speed. Causing the muscles in your neck to tingle slightly at the sudden movement. The blood rushing to your checks leaving a rosy tiny. You could feel eyes of your three friends staring down into your soul.

“I have no idea what you are talking about, Reg.” You quickly responded while shrugging your shoulders in attempt to act nonchalant, but you were not fooling anyone.

“You sure there isn’t anything you want to tell us?” Pandora asked, with a welcoming smile that lit up her eyes. Almost tempting you to blurt out your feelings for the two Gryffindor boys.

“I don’t know, treasure you-“

“I was simply observing, is all.” You interrupted before bringing the now cold French toast to your lips.

“We would not judge you if it was more than that.” Pandora reached across the table to gently squeeze your hand, offering a warm smile.

You returned the smile and hoped the conversation would end. A naive thought it was indeed.

“Treasure,” Barty started, as a grin spears across his face which put the Cheshire Cat to shame. “You really can’t be desperate you’re thinking of snogging one of those idiots.”

Your face turned an awful shade of red, matching that of the gyffidor robes. “I-I…you-you…you’re delusional.” You stumbled through your words trying to regain composure.

A roar of laughter escaped Barty. One hand on his heart and the other found its way to her check. “Relax, treasure, only teasing.” He gave your rosy check a few affectionate pats before his hand found Evan’s again.

Pandora shook her head in disapproval to which he only grinned in response. Regulus remained silent throughout it all not uttering a single sound.

A frustrated sign escaped your lips, and you found yourself throwing your legs over the bench to stand up. Opening and closing your mouth several times, but alas to no avail. The four friends stared at you, again.

“I have potions class.” You announced, much to quietly for your liking, gripping onto the leather strap of your bag. “Mr Slughorn will give me detention if I’m late again.”

A chorus of goodbyes were heard as you disappeared down the corridor.

Potions was not exactly your favourite class. You would much prefer the likes of herbology or divination but on the plus side at least you got to see the prettiest boys in school. Not that you would ever admit how pretty you thought they were.

Countless times before, you had gone through all the possibilities and always came to the same conclusion: Sirius is Regulus brother, secondly Sirius and Remus are clearly happy together and you didn’t have the right to come between them. Oh and there was the fact that as much as you thought the older brother was gorgeous, you hated him deep within your soul.

His whole personality is unappealing and the his ego needed a room for itself. Yet you could not deny how you found yourself staring into his eyes when he wasn’t looking. They have that same glow of a night sky.

Everything about him, screams gryffidor, and he is always pulling pranks on you. He truly was the embodiment of his house. Unlike you, who was sorted into Slytherin but almost everyone believes Ravenclaw suits you better.

It was easier if you hated him, far better be that than fall for your friend’s estranged older brother. Your plan worked for the most part. Granted it helped how Sirius seamed to hate you as much as you tried to hate him.

Remus, on the other hand, you required a heavy amount of distancing from in order to keep your feelings in check.

Some might say, memorising his entire class schedule to ensure avoidance is crazy. You, however, prefers to think of it as tactical genius.

The walls of the classroom were lined with pickled animals in glass jars. The winter day was particularly cold and you could practically see your own breath appearing in the chilling air.

“Can anyone tell me what Amortentia is?” The voice of professor Slughorn drew you out of her thoughts, forcing you to focus on the topic at hand. Multiple students hands went up from but no one was faster than Lily Evans. You always thought she seamed kind, but did not like stepping outside of your comfort zone. Resulting in you never talking to her outside of class or the library.

“Amortentia is a love potion which can causes the drinker to develop an infatuation or obsession.”

“Very well done, Miss Evans.” Slughorn smiled at her answer and nodded before continuing. “Now, does anyone else want to add onto Miss Evan’s answer?”

You bit your bottom lip, you knew the answer, and your mother did ask you to try be more active in class this year. Before you could even realise what you were doing, you had been called upon.

“It has a different aroma for everyone who smells it, based on what you find most appealing or attractive.” You stated, hiding your hands underneath the table so no one could catch onto your nerves.

“Care to share what you smell then?” The pure calmness in Slughorn’s tone sent a shiver down your spine. He stepped closer to you which only seamed to make you more nervous. Feeling the eyes of all her fellow students on you. With Gyffidor and Slytherin fifth year students staring, waiting to hear what she finds most attractive, was difficult to say the least.

Slowly you moved to position yourself in front of the cauldron. Few students stepping out of your way. The new found attention on you making you cringe. The aroma filled your nostrils and instantly put you in a sense of tranquility. The mere scent of it was mouth watering.

“I do not have all day, Miss”. Your eyes snapped open and offered a small apology to Slugorn before responding.

“I smell chocolate, smudged bits that you find inside the wrapper of a chocolate bar, a warm fresh cup of tea, and old books…” Your voice trailed off, as you fell more and fall in love with the scent by the second.

Meanwhile, Sirius tightened his jaw quickly recognising the scent as his boyfriend’s. You immediately picked up on it, but refrained from saying anything.

“There’s something else, almost like a second scent.” Your eyes opened harshly, and you found yourself looking at the Professor who seamed to be quite intrigued by this new development.

“What ever do you mean?” The professor asked, it was not very often someone smelled two different kind of scents in the aroma.

“The second one is different to the first, leather, with what I think might be wet dog…fur?” Your voice came out more like a question at the end than you’d like. James snapped his head to face Sirius, who glanced at Remus in response who appeared just as confused.

“And, um, there’s cologne, a deep, musky smell, the one-“ You cut herself off before you could let out the words which would undoubtedly tell everyone who you had smelled. Sirius Black.

Feeling all eyes on you, and suddenly feeling alone without any of your friends in the room. You hastily you grabbed your bag and rushed out the classroom. You didn’t stop running until you reached your dorm room.

The door pressed against your green robe, providing some stability. You place a hand on your chest, feeling your heart pounding against your hand. You took a few deep breaths to try calm your increasing nerves. Your breathing remained uneven and every so often it hitched ever so slightly. You ran a hand through your hair, letting your body slowly crumble to the floor. Pulling your knees to your chest, and wrapping your arms around them. Eventually you felt your muscles relax, and breathing return to normal.

Your fingers played with the tattered ends of the carpet beneath you. Rubbing small circles on the material in soft soothing motions.

God, were you in for it now.

[admirationandromantics]

Chris's Little Sister

Can you write something about Josh dating Chris’s younger sister? -anon 

Of course I can!! I think one of the best ways to incorporate the reader into the group would actually be through a sibling relationship. And like… brother’s best friend? Now that’s something I live for. I did take some inspiration from Friends, just felt like it fit. Anyways, enjoy some headcanons for this one (already written one story today, and prepping for Christmas, so don’t have that much time).

And yeah, I still got a couple of requests in my inbox, but please bear with me. I do have things to do, but will get to them when I have the time. Enjoy <3

Chris and Josh met in third grade, so no wonder that when Chris brought home this beautiful little guy, you had heart eyes. You didn’t dare to talk to him, even when he initiated the conversation. You hid behind Chris or your mom, just observing them as they played. 

As you grew older, you developed more of a friendly relationship, this was your brother’s best friend after all, you weren’t gonna fuck it up. Chris brought you when you went to the Washingtons, and you mainly spent your time with the twins. 

Of course, Josh had a soft spot for you. He liked you, felt that he had to protect you, that sort of thing. You didn’t know if it was because you were Chris’s sister or because there was something else beneath. Soon, after a little too much time without Chris, you guys figured things out. 

Stolen glances became signals for a retreat to a secluded make out spot. Secret visits, making sure not to wake his sisters as well. Small touches that no one noticed. Everything felt like fireful passion, and keeping it secret made it even more thrilling. 

Josh has also made a few suggestive comments to his friend, trying to warm him up to the idea. “No, I’m not home that day” “Is your sister home?” “Why does that matter?” “I can think of a few ways we could entertain ourselves” “You’re not going near my sister, I’ll beat your head off, no joke” “Yeah, yeah… I know” 

When the annual winter getaway came, you found yourself with a lot more space and options. You and Josh talked, always away from Chris. I mean, he would actually kill him if he did something. You spent this time being flirty, a few comments here and there, which surprised the bachelor. 

That’s when it suddenly happened. You found yourself pressed up against the wall, locking lips with Josh Washington, your brother’s best friend. But you were caught. Hannah stood like a ghost in the doorway, eyes wide and mouth agape. You both knew you had fucked up. 

“Hannah!” “Don’t fucking talk to me” “Hannah, please!” “Has this been the drive all along? Being my friend, being with me just to hook up with my brother?” 

“You hooked up with Josh?” The colour drains from your face as you hear his voice. Chris, standing there, defeated, looking down on you. Everything is fucked up, everything is bad. “Chris, please hear me out…” 

He doesn’t. He marches to Josh’s room, confronting his friend. “What the hell, Josh!” 

You run inside, putting yourself in between them. “What’s going on?” Josh whispers to you, confused by the raging blonde. “He knows” “Shit”

“How long has this been going on?” You’re both silent, wondering what the right answer to the question might be. A while, a long time. Maybe he’d go easier on you if you said it was just one time? “Oh my god, and you never told me?” He’s looking down at you, disappointment and full of sorrow. 

“Listen Chris…” “Is he forcing you to do anything?” “No!” “Has he manipulated you in any way?” “Absolutely not!” 

He’s still defeated, trying to come to terms with it all. “You have many girls head over heels for you. Why, why. Why did it have to be her?” 

You wouldn’t admit it, but you were kind of curious as well. Why you, of all people. 

“Man, I-I can’t describe it. It just happened. And I’m glad it did. I love her, and we work, we’re good together” 

You both turn your attention to Chris again, and you take hold of his hand, rubbing over the knuckles softly. “I’m sorry Chris, but I feel the same about him” 

“For goodness sake, it’ll take time for me to digest this” “Of course, we understand” “And you feel safe?” “I do” “And he hasn’t hurt you in any way?” “No” 

“That’s a lie” Beth says, standing in the doorway. “What?” “The sounds I’ve heard from his room the last few weeks…” 

The relief turns to fear again as your brother rush to tackle your boyfriend.

[wildemaven]

look at us | joel miller

pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 2748 warnings: 18+ blog; Smut, maybe even smut with no real plot, Nipple play, orgasm through nipple stimulation, praise, multiple orgasms, using arousal as lube, mutual masterbastion (f & m), cum eating/sharing, mirror watching, my horrible attempt at keeping a conversation flowing during sexy time, Joel can’t keep his hands to himself, fluff, established relationship, mentioned that reader is wearing a dress & bra but has zero descriptive features, can be read as no outbreak or prior to outbreak Joel, there’s no Sarah in this universe notes: this is a reimagined version of an older fic i posted and didn’t really like for some reason. Switched the characters and reworked it a bit. Smut is so hard to write for me, I just question the whole thing in its entirety and never want to do it again. But I love this storyline so much more now as Joel that I honestly don’t even care if the smut is wonky— I just want joel now. This writer supports Palestine and does not share or support the views of tlou creator.

It’s a heady sensation.

Visceral. Demanding. Gratifying.

His touch. A grounding force that burns through you, igniting every nerve ending in its wake.

Plaint and warm, your body blooms with a carnal appetency.

He’s emboldened by every sound he plucks from you. The softest whimpers that fall from your lips, kiss every single inch of his dewy skin. He’s forever addicted to your willingness to take what he has to give you— always wanting more.

Generous. Attentive. Steadfast.

Earnestness bleeds into a lustrous selfishness. The anticipation palpable, watching as you come apart in his arms, your pleasure is his forevermore.

It’s intuitive, the way he’s drawn to you. Most mornings, taking advantage of what little time he has with you, before work is pulling you both in different directions. Then you’re reunited for the evening and he’s making up for lost time, devouring and satisfying, well into the next day.

An endless cycle of being connected and reconnecting.

When weekends come around, he’s selfish. Overindulging beyond his means. Knowing he has ample time to relish in the closeness. Met with endless opportunities to have you near in any capacity as the hours of the day tick on, time he doesn’t take for granted.

Today is no different. From the moment the truck backs out of the driveway, beginning the several mile drive across town in the direction of Tommy’s home, he’s reaching for your hand.

Palm to palm, fingers perfectly intertwined as your hands stay connected over the center console of his pickup. The afternoon sun streaming through the window, adding to the already budding warmth that’s building between you. The conversation is light. Joel listening intently as you share details from your week, his thumb working over your knuckles as you move through the highlights of your story.

The remainder of the drive has a comfortable lull as the miles roll by. Music streaming through the cab, the lyrics provoking a wave of affection. Joel’s lips find the top of your hand periodically, his gaze never breaking from the road ahead. Your heart racing instantly at his instinctual gesture.

The gathering of friends— barbecuing, music and laughter, doesn't deter him from keeping you within arms reach.

Joel’s hand settles on the small of your back, fingers lightly dragging back and forth over your tingling spine, as you both exchange hello’s and hugs to the group friends in attendance scattered around the backyard

While Tommy is busy tending to the food on the barbecue, Joel and you are caught up listening to Paul, Tommy’s old army buddy and the newest hire at Joel’s construction company, share stories from his and Tommy’s time together in the military. Both of you enthralled by the recounts of close calls and embarrassing moments for the younger Miller brother, only to be interrupted by a flustered Tommy calling for Paul to grab plates and napkins from inside.

The minute you’re alone his hand is wandering south, grabbing at the meat of your ass and pulling you flush against him. It’s the first moment you’ve been alone since arriving and he’ll be damned if he’s not going to take advantage of it.

You smile into his kiss, fingers toying with the buttons of his shirt as he leans in close, his hushed words fanning across your ear.

“You look so damn pretty in that dress. Can’t wait to get my hands on you later.” The husk in his voice nearly makes you melt further into him, not even surprised by the cool dampness coating the silk panties you chose today, just for him.

“Hmmm— your hands haven’t left me since we got here.” You muse.

“I like havin’ you close.”

“You’ve made that quite obvious, Miller.” You joke, before he’s silencing you with another less than chaste kiss.

Dinner is served as the sun begins its descent. The air dropping a few degrees cooler, has goosebumps pricking at your skin. But it’s nothing compared to the shiver Joel is causing you, his hand nestled between your legs under the table.

You find it hard to focus between all the lively conversations being volleyed across the table, dishes being passed around and laughter cutting through friendly onslaughts of fuck you’s.

Joel mindlessly massaging at your thigh as he talks. Filling everyone in on the projects he’s started around the house, while your brain is muddled with thoughts of Joel’s hands and only Joel’s hands.

You can’t be positive it’s a deliberate move— or is it? You’ve been with him long enough to know what a calculated man Joel is.

He leans forward to reach for the ketchup bottle, his other hand shifting further up your thighs, his demeanor is cool and even as his fingers brush over your clothed mound. His fingers slowly gliding over the very drenched fabric. You swallow a thick gasp as your hips cant forward on instinct, chasing his retreating hand, your cunt aching and desperate for more of his teasing.

The wink he shoots you as he settles back in his chair is all the evidence you need to know his plan worked.

“Look like you saw an infected zombie or somethin’. Everything okay, Baby?” You want to kiss the devilish smirk right off of his handsome face.

“Y-yeah.” Horny and desperate for you, but fine.

“Y’sure about that? Those perked nipples of yours are tellin’ a different story, Sweetheart.” He quietly calls you out. You glance down to see the thin fabric of your summer dress and lace bra are no match to conceal the hardened peaks— your body so easily betraying you is nothing new.

“We should head out soon.” You say softly, Joel nods immediately, the silent agreement has you eager for what’s in store when you arrive home.

The ongoing conversation among the others is now muted background noise as you stare into his needy eyes, your hand cupping the side of his face as your thumb traces over his plush lower lip.

“We’re headin’ out. Thanks for havin’ us, Tommy. Hope to see y’all again sometime soon. ‘Night.” Joel rushes through announcing your departure, pulling you from your seat, his body crowding behind you as he ushers you towards his truck.

“You’re not even gonna stay and help clean up?” Tommy pouts from his chair.

“You’re a big boy Tommy, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Joel yells over his shoulder with a two finger wave as the gate clicks shut, home and you are the only thing cares about for the remainder of the evening.

“Fuuuuuuuck— Joel!” Your mind slowly seeping into a deep pleasured state.

There’s little recollection of leaving Tommy’s house and the drive home, other than Joel’s unrelenting need to have you close at all times— no complaints from you whatsoever.

Joel’s firm grip on your hand when he all but drags you to the bedroom of your shared home, clothes stripped at the foot of your bed in a hasty fashion.

The accumulation of Joel’s fiery touches throughout the day were merely effortless foreplay, all considered and aiding in his profound efforts that have been unfolding since arriving home.

“You look so fuckin’ good. Look at us, Baby.” The low gravel of his voice is overwhelming, but laced with pure authenticity. You lift your head just enough as your eyes slowly flutter open, trying to catch a glimpse of what he sees in the full length mirror positioned on the wall across from where you both are in bed— a mere coincidence that it was placed in there when you moved in.

“‘M l-looking, J-joel.”

It’s exquisitely striking how your cunt flutters madly against the cool air of the bedroom. The sight alone is better than any pornography you’ve consumed together.

Joel sitting up against the headboard holding your body close to his. Your back firm and tacky against his chest, breathing in rhythmic unity.

His feet hooked around your ankles, keeping your legs spread out as he hones in on the two luring forms glaring back in the mirror, a view that will forever edge out his own fantasies of you.

His large hands hold the weight of your breasts with pleasing dexterity, whispering the most beautiful obscene things into your ear.

I love your body. I love the way you moan. Missed your pussy all day. God, you’re always on my mind. Fuck, you’re makin’ me so hard. Louder. Fuck. Look at me.

Your gaze finally catches Joel’s in the reflection. It’s direct and overwhelming, his warm brown eyes flickering with a bold desire igniting a ripple of goosebumps over your body.

You’re both possessed by the new wave of arousal, glistening in the afternoon light, as it ardently drips from your pussy down to the bed sheets. Desperately craving to be devastated by this handsome man.

Joel’s thumbs swipe over your hard sensitive nipples, pulling a breathy gasp from your lips. Your head falling back into his shoulder as you let the sensation fully consume you.

“You like that don’t you?” You can only manage to hum in response, which encourages him to continue his work over the pebbled skin.

“Y-yes. You know how much I d-do.”

Joel knows this. Well enough too. It’s a normal occurrence that you find yourself in this identic state. Your body buzzing and exhausted, molded against Joel’s. His cock weeping and begging for relief, snuggly nestled between your roaring bodies. His skilled hands reducing you to putty.

Rolling. Pinching. Pulling. Flicking.

Each thorough caress sends an intense and deep feeling of delirium surging through you. Building and building the delicate structure for an elaborate release.

“So perfect all laid out for me. You gonna come for me?. I think you’re almost there, Baby. Just need a little more, huh?”

“Joel— I-I don’t think I can this time. N-need— oh fuck Joel! I need a little m-more.”

You’re cut off when you feel Joel’s fingers faintly slide over your throbbing clit and bypassing it completely. He swipes through your wet folds. You think he might finally give in. Plunge one, maybe two of his thick fingers into your aching heat, caress your velvet walls until you’re coming undone. Your body jolts as he gathers your arousal on his fingers, then abandons the ache and returns to his previous ministrations.

His arousal slick digits glide over each of your perked nipples. The wet eager strokes have your back arching as you moan into the room, your body tense and vibrating.

“Joel— yes! That feels so good! fuckfuckfuck! I— I’m so close Joel! D-don’t stop!” You let out a sharp moan.

“I ain’t stoppin’, Sweetheart. So fuckin’ beautiful. Can’t wait to see you come, Baby— just let go.” His hushed words paired with the way he rolls your stiff nubs between his fingers is just the push you needed, your climax vibrant and beautiful as it erupts, spreading through you faster than you can announce its existence.

Joel watches you fall apart in the mirror. Your breathless state has his hips grinding against your lower back as he continues to clutch your breasts. The glimmering beads of sweat rolling down your throat and chest, joining the layer pooling between your bodies.

It’s the view of your cunt that nearly takes him out, empty and pulsating, he’s never been so proud of a sight. He adds the mental snapshot to his backlog of imagery he’ll store of you until the end of his days.

“God, Joel. That— that was amazing!.” You say, peeling your satiated body from his.

Turning to face him, you sit in the space between where his legs are sprawled open, your hands massaging at his calves. You take in how enticing he looks, laid back on the stack of pillows, a slack grin on his handsome face as he slowly pumps his hardened cock.

You’re completely entranced by the sight, all thick and tempting. Biting at your lip teasingly, a hand all but subtly slips between your legs and your fingers begin delicately tracing circles over your clit.

Husked gasps falling from Joel’s parted lips as he alternates his movements. Long languid strokes over the length of his shaft then pausing briefly, his grip stilled and tight around the base as the reddened tip slowly leaks.

You gasp as the warmth of your sex engulfs your fingers triggering another gush of arousal to trickle down your thighs. Your other hand still connected to Joel’s leg, grounding your floating form to him.

Joel's eyes scan you, absorbing your blissed-out state, his hand matching your own steady movements, rhythmically moving over himself, his breaths now emerging as heavy pants.

Your fingers enthusiastically moving in and out with ease as your hips writhe keenly in search of the perfect position. The remnants of your previous orgasm are still lingering, beautifully aiding in the build up of the next. Your brows pinched in pleasure.

The room is dense with sexual humidity. Doused in a mixture of the ambered vanilla candle you burn frequently and a sweet ambrosial musk.

“Fuck— how’d I get so fuckin’ lucky with a woman like you? fuck!.” His tongue sweeps over his bottom lip, neck taut and nose flared as he tries to breathe through how good he’s making himself feel. “Why don’t you— shit —c’mere.”

“Mmm-ah! T-tempting, Baby. ohgod! Think I’ll stay put. I’m actually enjoying the view quite nicely from here. You look so good like this, Joel.” Seeing him accept your praise is a vision you’ll never get tired of, allowing himself to give in and take what he needs.

Your fingers graze over that delicious little spot with success, a cresting wave set in motion, the sensation causing your walls to convulse. A moan escapes your lips, paralleling with Joel’s own sounds. Your head involuntarily tilts back, as you ride out the euphoric moment.

“Shit! Sweetheart, I’m— I’m gonna— Hnng!Fuuuck!”

Joel’s fist erratically pumps over his length, his eyes locked on your naked form, ragged breaths and eager moans. Your eyes struggle to stay focused through the hazy chaos, drawn to his flushed body, paralyzed with an ample dose of desire as he nears his finish.

“Come for me, Joel.” You’ve shifted yourself a little closer to where he’s eagerly working himself over, encouraging him to let go.

He does— white hot ropes of cum paint his stomach, his actions slowing as the last few drops spill over his hand. He breathes out a deep sigh, giving you a lopsided grin as his arms fall to his sides. Eyes heavy with a mixture of lust and love.

“Fuck— now will you c’mere?”

You draw your lower lip between your teeth, now hovering over where his now softening dick rests against his stomach. You don’t break eye contact as you lean down and lick at the sticky mess.

“Goddamn— Ah!” Joel hisses, the warmth of your tongue dragging up the length of his cock. Lapping at the dappled layer of silky brininess covering his lower abdomen, purring with satisfaction as you swallow it.

“God.Damn.” You echo his words back to him, your lips move over his— he groans at the taste of himself still on your tongue.

A slow, content smile forms on your face as you tenderly kiss his neck, followed by a series of soft kisses down his chest and stomach.

“Gimme a minute— just need to regroup and then I’ll be ready to go again.”

“Whatever you say, my love.” Joel’s arms wrap a you and you melt into him. “Or I can draw us a hot bath and we can soak until we’re prunes.” A yawn perfectly placed at the end of your suggestion.

“Sounds like a plan. How ‘bout we nap then soak?” You sleepily hum in response.

"Love you, Sweetheart," Joel whispers, before pressing his lips to the top of your head.

“Mmm— love you, Joel.”

[ambitiouspotions]

HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS | CARMEN BERZATTO | ONESHOT

summary — carmy is finally home for the holidays and you, his childhood friend, are invited to the berzatto christmas dinner

word count — 10.2k

warnings — angst, mentions of addiction, family chaos, written and added to season 2 episode 6 so like you know strap in (of course all credit to the wonderful creators, writers, producers, and directors for the fuckery of the episode they created)

author’s note — yeah, anyways have fun! also going by the basis that carmen is at least 15 years younger than mikey!

“hold on, stall for me, i heard them saying my name,” carmen requested, pausing your conversation to make his way to the front door to ask his older siblings why they called upon him. you tilted your head, not being able to even deny his request before he went outside. you pulled at the sleeve of your knitted green sweater, only letting the headache-inducing arguing mixed with a symphony of christmas music filter through your ears.

you roamed the trays of cheese and crackers as he was away, the fak brothers yammering in your ear about a potential business reselling baseball cards on ebay.

“apparently, i’ve been placed on mom duty,” he muttered as he came back to join your side. he smelled faintly of cigarette smoke when he returned. who could blame him? 74% of the american population were also in agreement that the christmas holidays were the most stressful time of year.

the rest of the berzatto family was staggering through the den, quick quips flying from their mouths as they interacted with each other. lee was trying to pass off a bright red, piping hot dutch oven to everyone he walked past, finally settling on sugar to bring the dish to the kitchen. you felt bad for her. she already confided in you the moment she saw you. she was so nervous about ruining christmas because of her impulsive tendency to ask her mother if she was okay. it was a surprise for her to see carmen again after he had been in copenhagen, but an even bigger surprise when she learned carmen was bringing you to a family dinner.

you, peach, well that’s what mikey had deemed you after a particularly embarrassing accident in the neighborhood. the nickname stuck over the years, and now the entire berzatto family was keen on calling you peach rather than your actual name. you were caught in the middle of this entire night, avoiding your own family for personal reasons, and already regretting saying you’d be there for carmen. you had enough of the berzatto stress working for mikey at the beef. none of that was ever mentioned to carmen. the past nine months, in between your college courses, you were bagging sandwiches and helping the patrons of the beef while listening to richie and mikey’s bullshit.

you didn’t expect carmen to call so late at night. you had gotten a few random, nondescript texts from him over the months he had been away, but never expected his next time to contact you would be over the phone asking you to join him for christmas dinner with his family. so, there you stood, trying to make conversation and witty banter with the friends and close relatives of the berzatto family because carmen was so terrible at socializing. they were all happy to see you in some weird way, like a blast from the past, the nostalgia of “peach and bear.”

carmen was in the kitchen, but he wouldn’t allow you to step a foot into the war zone of a thousand unlabeled timers, splatters of sauce, overfilled oven, cluttered stove, drunken and mentally ill donna, and the unprepared seven fucking fishes. it was loud enough to overhear donna barking orders to an already panicked carmen. jimmy was brave enough to walk in to get olives for his cocktail, spouting promises to keep his hands to himself. though he had extra courage taunting donna about what they were going to have for dessert, lucky for him, she had taken his teasing calmly.

the kitchen was heating up as more people went in and out. you didn’t dare. the faks, donna yelling for mikey, and sugar.

ugh, why natalie?

why did she have to leave you and enter the trenches?

“ma, are you good?” sugar questioned, her voice rising over the kitchen timers, fak brothers, and donna. “ma?”

no, come on nat, no. you told me that you wouldn’t do that.

“yeah, yeah, we’re good.” carmen insisted. his next move was to attempt to direct his sister to the garage for more paper towels. he was already doing well guiding donna’s attention away from natalie.

you had only zoned out for a second when michelle and steven were asking about your college career. your head whipped, excusing yourself quickly from the new york-dwelling cousins.

“okay, this is why, this is why i didn’t want to come home.” carmen’s voice rang through your ears, his annoyed stutter making his older brother and mother begin to argue over his impoliteness on christmas.

you stood on the outside edge of the entrance of the kitchen, playing with the ring on your index finger as another timer shrieked through the kitchen. you wanted to step in, but everything seemed to be moving so quickly. they were being so condescending, leaving carmen to stand up for himself. mikey had a full mouth of food urging his younger brother to say three simple words. carmen’s unamused face said it all as donna egged him on as well.

carmen clearly gave in to the taunting because his next words were “i love you.” his tone said it all. he was becoming very agitated. his mother wrapped him in a hug, glancing in your direction.

mikey placing a quick and vexing kiss on the side of carmen’s head muttered “so happy the bear's home,”

“happy, happy to see you too, peach,” donna added, now averting her attention to the grossly jammed stove.

“yeah, you too, see dee,” you emphasized, blowing her a kiss as her hands covered in batter hovered above carmen’s shirt collar as she held him in her arms for a moment longer.

donna and mikey cared for carmen, but they didn't understand him. though, you didn't quite understand carmen either. he was always trying to prove to his family that he was the best, but being the best now meant that he was too “fancy” for them. you wished he could stay away from the overbearing chaos his family brought, but apparently, it was better for him to only come home once a year to stay in their good graces.

now, donna was trying to gain carmen’s attention, but little to her knowledge carmen was paying attention to her. he was trained to continuously be moving in a busy kitchen, but donna saw that as a sign of disrespect and avoidance. she forgot her train of thought, though carmen who had been paying attention, got his inebriated mother back on task to explain freeing an oven spot for another dish. donna’s orders, although scattered and frantic were being heard by carmen. he wasn’t going to let this be another year of disaster.

you were glad he could understand donna because even after years of knowing the berzattos, donna was a character that you never quite understood. after all, no one ever bothered to discuss her deep-rooted issues. you had the liberty of learning of her crazy antics on your own accord after overhearing stories and occasionally witnessing smaller bouts of her rage. donna’s illness was unspoken, but maybe that was for the best. she clearly didn't want to be helped or think she needed help.

the pregnant tiff entered; she was always nice, but even with the upset her baby was causing her she seemed in better spirits than anyone. she could have an escape away from family and friends while she pukes her guts into the toilet. donna was determined for carmen to understand that tiffany was not okay. she had thrown up! she needed to be cared for!

tiffany wasn't helpless, but it made donna feel better about herself to worry for someone else other than herself, for once. maybe donna just wanted to seem like she cared and truly didn't? you never knew where to place her.

the timer again! donna was questioning her own directions as she tried to remember what dish she needed to tend to. carmen had remembered because, through his conversation with tiff, he managed to make his way to the stovetop. richie had blocked carmen, setting him back for a few moments. he was quickly back on track. natalie had come back with the paper towels, and your eyes were set on her. you saw her gaze at the open bottles of liquor. you blocked the view of her as she poured the toxic brews down the sink. hopefully, with less liquid courage, donna would settle down.

the entire time as you blocked the wandering eyes in the kitchen from natalie’s liquor-guzzling drain your mind was fixated on carmen’s precise movements. he never seemed to waste any time.

“my timers are going off!” donna exclaimed to carmen, as if her disorganization was her son’s issue. carmen stood up for himself again as he finished tending to donna’s mess to make tiffany, who was already making her way to the bedroom to lie down, a sprite.

carmen was facing ridicule again. he was a chef, having staged in a very elite restaurant, and they were surprised that he could make fucking sprite. did they think he wasted years of his life to be mediocre? none of them knew that he had the terrible and compulsive need to be better than the environment he was raised in. you felt that since carmen was on donna duty, you had to be on carmen duty. you were invited to family dinner, but you extended your invitation to your remaining brain cells that were urging you to protect carmen from the wrath of his family.

you never understood carmen’s perspective. you had begged carmen multiple times to get away from the shitshow the berzattos produced, but he never listened. he always came circling back each year and looked to you for an answer as to why his anxiety was so terrible. maybe it was the universe’s way of a practical joke. you were avoiding your own family and now had to deal with carmen’s family.

you folded your hands in front of you as you faced richie and donna. “you have to give him some credit for working at noma.” your comment was overlooked the moment natalie started questioning her mother’s wellbeing. carmen heard this, giving you a quick glance.

sugar, why? leave donna the fuck alone. i know you are trying to help, but fuck off, sug.

“nat, she’s fine,” you squeaked out as donna pulled natalie closer. she took it better than expected, but as richie started asking about the tradition of the seven fishes, you could’ve sworn donna was being interrogated. her exaggerated body movements and the close proximity to richie’s face were enough to make you stand on edge as carmen began muddling the limes and lemons for his homemade pop.

let it be, rich. let her have her stupid traditions and let it be!

lee chimed in ready to explain the biblical part to richie’s question, though adding more than necessary.

“...makin’ people feel like shit, holding everything in and then letting it out inappropriately, raging, pouting, screaming, making scenes. you know all the italian classics?” lee chattered on and on, hinting obviously towards donna’s behavior. she didn’t notice, but if she did she paid him no mind.

donna stood in the middle of everyone’s conversations, watching lee and richie steal a bite of food as another timer rang, carmen adjusting the “proscuit” and the “mortadel” by order of his mother, and richie now taking the glass of sprite.

carmen slid over to you, offering a tasting spoon of some concoction from the stove when he had a moment.

“why is no one listening to me?”

here we go.

you were bracing for impact as donna, richie, and carmen tried to figure out why her temperament wasn’t as mellow as it had been just a few seconds prior.

over a pot that she never mentioned until now? classy, donna, really classy.

richie took that as a sign to leave. he didn’t want any part of donna’s delusional shenanigans.

“he’s going to move the pot, dee dee,” you said defensively as carmen lugged the white stock pot off the burner and to an empty space on the counter. you could tell carmen was getting close to a breaking point as he stormed out of the kitchen. he put his hand up to you, stopping you from following him. you knew after years of being friends with him it was best to let him simmer before trying to immediately help him.

as donna spouted multiple thank yous, you slipped out of the hell hole of the kitchen to the bathroom. you knew better than to bother carmen when he was seemingly about to burst.

to your surprise, when looking in the mirror, you were still put together, tugging at the waistband of your jeans to waste more time collecting yourself. though as you dilly-dallied in the bathroom carmen was being hazed by mikey and richie. when you exited the bathroom natalie was lingering in the hallway waiting for you, swiftly taking you with her upstairs to tiffany.

mikey and richie were face to face asking each other if either one of them had told carmen the good news.

“why are you guys fucking with me?” carmen asked, his tone raising as the annoyance continued.

“no one’s fucking with you!” the friends said in unison.

“why would you think that?” mikey pestered carmen, taking a step closer to him.

“‘cause you’re always fuckin’ with me, that’s why i fuckin’ think it,” carmen spat back, his entire body tensing. he wanted them to stop with their anticipation and tell him what was so important.

“it’s a good thing! it’s a good thing!” they insisted, attempting to calm carmen down. carmen was standing stiff, his face reading as unimpressed and blank.

“just take a break from being a mopey little fuck,” mikey urged carmen as richie tried to quiet the youngest berzatto brother.

“we’re trying to tell you that peach is the love of your fucking life.” mikey’s voice dropped lower as he told carmen. he didn’t know where you were located in the house and didn’t want you to overhear as he told his brother the information.

“dude, i don’t have a love of my life.” carmen’s shoulders only seemed to tense more as they spoke.

richie was wearing a shit-eating grin as another timer echoed through the house.

“she’s been working at the restaurant,” mikey interjected as richie pumped his fists. “the body is banging!” he exclaimed as mikey mocked the word "banging” to carmen.

“she’s hot as balls. dude, that tip jar is always fucking full every time she picks up a shift.” richie reiterated excitedly as he bent closer to carmen.

though your normal attire had always been comfortable and mostly consisted of oversized garments, working at the beef transitioned your working attire to a more fitted attire due to having an overwhelming amount of regular male customers. your school loans had to be paid somehow.

carmen’s entire face was contorting upon hearing their comments about you. he wasn’t stupid. he knew you were attractive, but knowing his older brother and his married friend were ogling over you was disgusting. and wait? mikey said you were working at the restaurant? why the hell were you in that goddamn restaurant?

“she’s like a waitress in a fuckin’ porno,” richie continued, mikey following suit again “she’s all that and a fuckin’ basket of biscuits, bro.”

“oh, oh,” mikey started to speak again, inching closer to carmen’s face. “by the way she’s like a legitimate fucking wizard.” richie agreed with mikey, beaming as he spoke.

“w-wait, what did you say to her?” carmen stammered, looking at the two friends frantically. “you’ve been working with her? what did you say to her?” he needed to know. dear god, he needed to know why it was such good news and why it was so important that they tell him that you were the love of his life. what did they do this time?

“she picks up a shift when she doesn't have class,” mikey said casually, though carmen’s voice was rising in a panic.

“what did you do?” he asked, his eyes darting quickly at mikey and then at richie. “what did you do?” he demanded, barely able to catch his breath.

“bro, this is a once-in-a-million opportunity for you to score with a woman that’s stacked physically and mentally,” richie explained nonchalantly.

“homie, you’re having a fucking child,” carmen said his brows furrowed together trying to comprehend the fucked situation in front of him as another timer ended and sent the dinging through the hallways. “why are you even talking like that?” carmen questioned with a huff.

“it’s done,” mikey confessed, taking a step back.

“who asked you to do that?” carmen petitioned. he was furious. why the hell was his brother meddling in his life?

“i put in a good word,” mikey said, attempting to brush off carmen’s anger.

“nobody asked you to do that,” carmen countered sternly.

“she told me you two were in touch, so i told her about how you always had a little crush on her.” mikey smirked as if he hadn’t just released embarrassing information.

mikey wasn't lying, upon telling him that carmen had invited you to family dinner a few hours later, he and richie were trying to offer carmen up as the main course. you managed to walk away from the conversation unscathed, but mentally trying not to admit being too interested in what they were saying. you weren't going to seem like a lovesick fool and admit your feelings for him to his older brother and family friend.

“i feel like you’re breaking my balls.” carmen clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as more information came out. “i don’t understand why you always do that,” carmen grunted, continuing his heated rambling. “like, why are you like this?”

“she’s hot now, carm. she’s hot now,” richie said, circling back to where the conversation had started, trying to urge carmen to think of something positive.

“stevie was with us!” mikey exclaimed, already calling steven into the heated conversation.

“i don’t need steven to come over here,” carmen hissed, throwing his arms up as steven rounded the corner.

“would you tell him about peach at the beef?” the friends said, filling steven in on their topic of conversation.

“oh, y/n? peach?” steven asked, being confirmed with nods by richie and mikey. “she’s wonderful–”

carmen stared blankly, how had you agreed to come to christmas dinner with him knowing mikey had told you about the crush he used to have on you? he was filtering out the words steven was saying as richie and mikey started talking over each other.

“she’s a deeply good person,” steven said, one hand shoved in his pocket, the other around an overfilled glass of red wine. “i can see why you’re in love with her–”

“i-i’m not in love with her, though, that’s what i’m saying,” carmen pressed further, wishing that someone would listen to him. “where did you guys get this from?”

“you used to have all those drawings,” richie commented, though carmen’s anger and embarrassment spiked as he pointed a finger at the group of men in front of him.

“that’s what i’m fuckin’ talking about, though!” carmen’s voice was rising every second, but luckily for him you, natalie, and tiffany were in donna’s bed catching up with each other as carmen only got louder.

“that’s what i’m saying! that’s why i think you’re fucking with me!” carmen was speaking so rapidly. he could barely keep up with his words as steven, richie, and mikey began to chuckle.

“you used to give me a fucking hard time about it.” carmen retorted again, backing away from the three of them. mikey was pestering carmen by trying to grab his face as the cycle of another timer was over. carmen was begging for him to stop touching him as steven mentioned that mikey had the conversation with you handled.

the timer kept ringing as mikey inched closer. carmen was swatting his brother’s hands away as a spoon flew towards the men.

“the fuck?” steven murmured, turning on his heel to look at donna. “auntie d, did you just throw a spoon at me?”

that was a hell of a way to break up a conversation. donna demanded that the sprite richie was toting be brought to his wife and that carmen was needed back in the kitchen.

“ma, you gotta chill, mom,” mikey said walking towards donna, repeating himself as she urged him not to speak to her that way.

richie bent down, holding one of carmen’s shoulder’s firmly. “we’re not done with this peach thing.”

“you’re fuckin’ breaking my balls,” carmen said, his voice had lowered again, though he did not look pleased.

“no, i think, i think it’s just a big misunderstanding,” richie admits, taking a final peak over steven’s shoulder before resuming his task of bringing the sprite to tiffany.

steven nodded to carmen. “carm…this is a good thing.”

carmen was looking past steven’s striped shirt and large square glasses as he spoke. he didn’t care what anyone was saying to him about you. he might have been overly defensive in that vomit-inducing conversation, but maybe that was because he did care about you.

you and natalie had filtered out of donna’s bedroom as richie knocked on the door, leaving the couple to their own devices.

the entire time you had sat on the edge of the bed with the other two women, carefully looking around the jaguar-infested room. it was so dramatically gaudy and over the top. though, donna being donna, would most definitely have it decorated the way she did.

the conversations were light at first though when tiffany mentioned richie previously telling her that michael had told you of the childhood crush carmen had on you there was nothing other than laughter. the laughter was refreshing from the overwhelming dread that was lingering over the home. it was as though being with family, this family, in particular, was a death sentence to any participant.

you weren't oblivious to carmen's obvious staring and stuttering, though even in the present day nothing had changed. except you left out the part where you mentioned that you were always stealing sneaky glances at carmen as well.

in the kitchen, an artichoke topped with breadcrumbs fell to the ground. donna was on her knees cursing as she began to clean it. lee rushed in to help her. he made her laugh. donna was laughing and smiling. that brought her temperament down. lee not only helped clean the kitchen mess, but donna’s attitude as well.

though now donna was shoving her long red nails into lee’s face insisting that she didn’t need a job opportunity that he had smoothly worked into the conversation. mikey had walked into the back and forth with lee and donna, questioning if they were arguing again. lee casually picked up the dropped artichoke, looking at mikey, and merely commented that he had only been cleaning a mess.

mikey had started the smart-ass remarks with lee, slamming the bottle opener for his beer cap on the top of the fridge. donna was still on her knees as she yelled for mikey to be kinder. lee murmurs about a lack of christmas spirit in the home but continues with his cleaning duty with donna.

the fak brothers and michelle were hidden in the bathroom, smoking a joint. they were bantering, reminiscing, and then finally in agreement. agreeing that donna was going to blow her lid. the real question now was when?

donna was cracking lobsters, progressively becoming more intoxicated by the second. you leaned against the counter watching carmen pace around the kitchen, trying to keep up with the list of demands from his mother. natalie insisted on helping, to which donna immediately declined.

jimmy entered the kitchen again. while donna was distracted, natalie looked at you and then motioned to carmen. she wiggled the half-consumed bottle of wine in disbelief. her eyes were wide upon finding that her mother had ingested another ridiculous amount of alcohol.

“...sugar instead of salt and the gravy tasted like fuckin’ hawaiian punch,” donna recounted the story of how natalie got her nickname to jimmy, casually tossing the lobster shells away as she spoke.

“at least she's not peach because she ripped her pants open to show everyone her peach underwear during the neighborhood garage sale when she tried to run on the treadmill mrs. troisi was selling,” you retorted, a hint of red filling your cheeks as jimmy patted your shoulder. mikey never let you live it down, though when most people heard the name they luckily thought it was because you were a metaphorical peach in your personality.

another timer altered the kitchen, donna shooing carmen away to fetch tiffany some saltine crackers to go with her homemade sprite. you stayed with natalie, assuming it would be best for carmen to have a minute away from family. donna went on another spiel, asking to be reminded what her timer was for and to make sure someone told her to put the bread in the oven.

carmen stood in the pantry with mikey, his agitation showing. he voiced his annoyance about being unable to work with him at the beef, though he didn’t bring up the fact that mikey was allowing you to work there; he was still stewing on that new factoid, not even having mentioned that he knew it to you. he never returned to the kitchen. mikey wanted more for carmen, just as you did, but his own personal reasons he didn't reveal were more to the reason he didn't want carmen in the restaurant with him.

sitting in the den as michelle went on some ridiculous tangent about her last name and a random woman who knew about bears, you could only agree that it was better than still being in the kitchen with donna and natalie. you finally started to relax for the first time that night, your legs crossed comfortably as you sunk into the couch cushions. lee started jabbering about sports when mikey walked past them. he looked rough. he looked off; something wasn’t right.

donna yelled from the kitchen, cursing loudly, making steven begin to stand, wanting to offer her a helping hand. even your eyes widened at this fact. how was he still going to go in there even after everyone was begging him not to bother her? steven was nice, but oblivious to the true ways of donna. you had figured it out for yourself many years ago, and now steven was about to as well.

with carmen still not back in the kitchen, donna was unraveling. she burnt the fish from the oven, staggering around trying not to drop the hot tray before slamming it on the counter, causing her wine glass to topple onto the floor. natalie was frantically trying to clean the glass shards as donna claimed that no one ever offered to help her.

donna was rambling wildly, holding natalie’s face harshly as natalie pleaded with her mother that she was okay and needed to settle down. steven, of course, was now learning his lesson as he offered his help.

“get the fuck out!” donna voiced loudly, steven standing shocked only nodded his head, awkwardly backing out of the kitchen. natalie was breathing heavily as she took the glass-filled trash bag out of the kitchen, muttering to herself as steven stopped her before going out the door. steven was now using his kindness to natalie’s advantage, wrapping her in a tight hug.

back in the den, everyone was uncomfortably listening to mikey’s incoherent story. his words were misplaced and jumbled. talking with his hands was not uncommon, but they never seemed to sit still, even if they rested they were jittering.

“we’ve heard this story a million times,” lee said, interrupting mikey’s retelling.

“no, uh, let him finish,” you spoke up, though lee only rolled his eyes.

you looked at mikey, wrapped in his brown tassel blanket. everyone trying to defuse the potential situation as mikey only seemed to be becoming more irritated the longer he went without talking.

“you sold the car and then you find the horse,” lee announced, summing up mikey’s story quickly. he sipped his drink as mikey threw his hands up in defeat, sarcastically congratulating him on ruining the moment.

lee started recounting mikey’s multiple failed business plans. michelle was trying to center the conversation back to a safe spot as jimmy walked in to join them, the tension was still present but the bickering had silenced as michelle welcomed jimmy.

“what’s going on in here?” jimmy questioned, mikey immediately perked his head up.

“this jagoff is talking shit,” he muttered about lee. lee tried to lighten the mood, playfully pointing to himself and repeating the nickname.

“i guess about how i, like, don’t finish shit,” mikey said, his expression was blank.

jimmy was in agreement, softly speaking as he nodded. mikey wasn’t the most practical of businessmen.

pete came bursting in toting a wrapped tuna casserole. like pete, you didn’t understand why there couldn’t be eight fishes, but knew that if everyone was telling him it was a bad idea then it was true. you followed the basic rule that if donna had a particular tradition to never break it. you didn't think it was necessary to cause anyone in the berzatto family any extra anger; they had enough of it genetically engineered into their veins.

carmen came to announce that dinner was ready and they were needed at the dinner table. michelle was warning everyone not to tell carmen what was in pete’s hand, but when he looked at you he rolled his eyes.

“tuna casserole,” you breathed out, a cough backing up your words. carmen began berating pete for bringing the dish. who knew that eight fishes could make someone an asshole? apparently, the berzattos knew this fact, and anyone not related to them was left to cope with whatever hell eight fishes would bring.

“don’t let her fucking see it,” carmen warned him as he walked out, though you were following behind him. natalie swiftly took the tray and threw the casserole out the door.

the table was cluttered, everyone basically sitting elbow to elbow as they all were seated. you nudged carmen with your foot and his head raised as he exhaled. you could tell this family gathering was screwing with his head. he nudged your ankle to acknowledge you, though you couldn’t tell if that was enough to settle his nerves as he mentioned going to get his mother to sit down.

carmen was once again in the kitchen. his pleas were not enough to make donna come to join the table. she would only go when she was ready. he was feeling guiltier by the second as she wouldn’t join them for dinner. he finally returned to the table, seeming more quiet than before.

steven was volunteered to say the prayer but quickly declined. michelle took his place asking about the seven fishes. lee butted in with his biblical nonsense, a fork then thwacking him in the head. everyone's face dropped at the sudden interaction. no one liked where this was headed.

mikey mimicked the sound of a buzzer. his eyes unfocused and overly amused by his actions.

“did you just throw a fork at me?” lee asked, whipping his head around to look at mikey.

“i did,” mikey said a bit too proudly. his elbows were on the table and his hands were folded until he started to speak. speaking wildly, incoherently, and maybe a little too loudly.

jimmy peeked his head forward. “what are you doing, michael?”

“he started it, uncle j,” mikey waved his hands to lee.

“mike just–” carmen started to speak until lee chimed in. “don't throw fuckin’ forks at people.”

mikey began to mock lee for speaking. richie bent his head down, trying to contain a laugh of nervousness.

“hey, fak. you using your fork?” mikey hinted. neil fak stuttered for a moment before admitting that he needed his utensil. fak tried to convince mikey not to take the fork, but soon the silverware was inching away from him.

“please–” fak mumbled, trying to keep his voice neutral. it was as though he was trying to defuse a bomb.

“i just need to borrow it for one second,” mikey said, raising the silverware in his hand and waving it teasingly. you were now chirping with the rest of the crowd for him to set the fork down.

it hit lee in the forehead again.

“i threw the fork, lee,” mikey said, covering his mouth as he spoke. his wide eyes fixated on lee.

“cousin, you're scaring the normals,” richie jests, trying to lighten the mood.

“mikey–” you uttered, clearing your throat, though he didn't pay you any mind.

your eyes were fixed on mikey. your hand was under the table rubbing carmen's knee gently. you now understood more of the reason you needed to be present for him tonight. carmen massaged his temples, shutting his eyes tightly.

“you see, i can throw forks ‘cause this is our father’s house,” mikey was blabbering. that disturbed look in his eye still present.

“rich,” lee called upon mikey's friend, hoping he could do something to stop mikey.

“my father's house,” mikey continued.

“we have lift off,” commented michelle.

lee pestered mikey again, but not in some playful way. a true jab about his stories again. the laugh mikey was not out of fun. mikey was hunched over as he chuckled.

“tell a story about how you're living with your mom and you're borrowing money off of her and other suckers who'll listen to your bullshit,” lee spat, silencing everyone else at the table for a moment.

“lee, shut the fuck up,” jimmy warned, though he was silenced the moment lee pinned him as one of the suckers mikey was mooching off of.

“unc, it’s fine,” mikey said, a wide smile across his face, though his face dropped as lee continued to speak.

“because this guy's nothing and he's nobody,” lee taunted. mikey's mouth was agape, but lee continued. “and i know you're-you're scared and you're afraid, aren't you, michael? and michael i don’t know what the fuck you’re on, but whatever it is, if you can hear me through the fog, throw another fork at me and you're gonna get fuckin’ rocked.”

lee and mikey stared at each other for a moment. no one else dared to make any sudden movements. you halted rubbing carmen's knee, like everyone else you were wondering how far the situation was going to escalate.

mikey rubbed his beard, just under his nose. “hey petey,” he coaxed. pete was reluctant to look at mikey.

“you think i could just, like, borrow that for one second? i just…” there was a small clattering of utensils as mikey picked up pete's fork, and an even louder bunch of voices chimed in to warn mikey to halt his actions. you knew that this wasn't going to stop mikey. mikey had already made up his mind after the first fork he threw.

mikey looked at natalie, his fork in position for launch. she was begging him not to throw it. he stopped moving when she spoke.

“i love you, okay?” sugar spoke softly, though mikey never lowered the fork.

“i love you too, sug,” mikey had a nod going as he spoke, the fork still tightly in his hand.

“i'm begging you,” sugar expressed sternly, though ot raising her tone.

steven gave an embarrassing laugh. “i'm sorry. i giggle when i get nervous,” he admitted, glancing around at the family next to him.

mikey was taken out of sugar's trance. he was waving the fork sporadically as he spoke. he was assuring steven that it was okay for his outburst. though as he kept insisting that it was okay to laugh jimmy spoke up. “michael, i need you to calm down, buddy, alright?” jimmy much like everyone else, was uncomfortable with the tension-filled room.

“mike–” carmen warned, his brother,

“there’s other people at the table, i need you to calm down,” jimmy explained, peering around the table at the confused and frightened faces. “you're being a bit of an asshole,” jimmy added, hoping mikey would see how unacceptable his behavior was.

though, mikey, high on whatever substance he was on started smiling again. “thank you, uncle j, but i'm fine.” no one could believe this fact seeing as moments before he launched two other forks across the table at lee's head and was still holding the third.

after a sarcastic comment from lee, jimmy confirmed that along with michael being an asshole, lee fit the bill. mikey also thanked jimmy for that comment. just a table with two assholes and a bunch of bystanders internally pleading that mikey would drop the fork that was in his hand.

“go ahead,” lee taunted. “let's go,” he coaxed. “fuckin’ throw it.”

mikey licked his bottom lip, the fork still waving in his hand. “yeah?”

“yeah, throw it or put it down,” lee threatened. it was followed by a weak chuckle from mikey.

“you bite lee? is that what you do?” mikey counters, his eyes darting around the table before going back to lee.

“for fucksake, your mother's been workin' for fucking days, making this meal. have some respect. there's other people at this fucking table!” jimmy scolded mikey.

“throw the fuckin’ fork,” lee insisted, though his hands went to cover his face.

“oh, would you look at that? i didn't throw it! i didn't throw it, you fuckin’ pussy!” mikey was towering over the table as he rose from his seat, aiming to throw it again. he only got louder and more entertained in this sick game as lee went to cover himself again. “you fuckin’ flinched! look, you did it again, you fucking pussy!” mikey announced louder, flicking the utensil again.

“throw it,” lee grunted as mikey sat back down. “i'm not on anything. i flinch,” lee threw another verbal jab in mikey's direction. “i still--my brain's connected to my nerves, you monster.”

“yeah, i'm a monster, lee,” mikey mocked. the entire table was in disbelief as the argument continued.

“you're a loser fuckin monster,” lee remarked with a sneer.

“nobody wants you here with your big fuckin’ mouth,” mikey said, puffing his chest out a bit more. “with your big fuckin’ mouth,” mikey repeated with a scoff. he slammed his hand into the table, making a few glasses shake.

“fuckin’ throw it,”

“yeah?”

“go ahead, fuckin’ throw it you fucking animal,”

“yeah?” mikey was screeching in a similar tone to that of a rabid animal.

“yeah, make it about you. make christmas about you,” lee sneered. “throw the fucking fork.” he urged again. though lee didn't stop talking. “you’re nothing.”

“you’re nothing,” lee reiterated. “you're nothing.” a third time. lee paused, gritting his teeth. “you are nothing.” and again. “you’re nothing.” lee didn't stop. mikey's eyebrows fell as lee said it again. “you’re nothing.” lee continued to repeat those demeaning words until donna walked into the dining area.

everyone was applauding her, putting on a happy face, wishing her a happy holiday and a merry christmas. donna looked as though she had been crying, her makeup smudged, and her blonde hair looked like she had been pulling at it with annoyance.

cigarette in one hand and wine in the other, donna sat at the head of the table closest to the china cabinet. it was deadly silent.

“what'd i miss?” she interjected the silence with a giddy tone in her voice.

lee looked to donna, “nothing,” he commented, waving his hands though his tone was not as fierce as it previously was with mikey.

“i missed something,” donna insisted, knowing the chaotic household was never so silent.

“no, no, no,” mikey denied, luckily donna didn't press any further. “stevie's about to say grace, ma,” he added, waving the fork.

steven was trying to politely decline, but the more steven said no the more mikey wanted to press him.

“just fuckin’ say the thing, okay?” mikey urged, as his mother pawed at her hair.

michelle in hopes of keeping the table at a simmer presses further for steven to say the blessing over the food. steven, as awkward as he is, took the challenge, although he was most likely following michelle's lead in wanting mikey, lee, and donna to act semi-normal for the rest of the night.

“hey, uh, it's great that we're all together, um, and healthy, i think,” steven began, michelle producing a slight giggle as he spoke. “uh, no one’s si–physically very sick.”

was he referring to mikey or donna or both? hell, maybe he was referring to himself and decided to include the rest of the group with him because it was probably true.

“i'm so grateful, um, for this beautiful meal,” steven paused looking to donna, “and donna, um, what an incredible job donna did. and i-i could hear in there. it sounded very hard and it's just gorgeous,”

donna had an impeccably large smile on her face, pride washing over her as her painstaking work had been acknowledged. her hands clasped together with gratitude as though she had won the oscar nomination for best actress.

“and is he still holding the fork?” steven asked nervously. mikey looked up, the base of the fork shoved in the center of his praying hands.

“sure is,” jimmy confirmed, steven paused for a moment before finding his way back to his prayer he wasn't prepared for.

“okay, um, listen” steven announced, though he was stalling for more time to find another topic. stalling to ensure that mikey would put down that goddamn fork and allow dinner to finish on a peaceful note. “what is the seven fishes or why do we do it?” steven nodded his head, the other’s seated at the table were now focused on steven speaking rather than blankly and nervously staring at the table. “i think i know what my definition is,” steven swallowed hard, his mouth dry, trying to accumulate more words. “uh, as soon as i think of it…it's a chance to be together and to take care of each other.” donna took a drag from her cigarette quickly so her hands could fold together in prayer as steven continued to speak. it was as though all his yammering was to talk mikey off of the ledge he had placed himself on, hoping that it would be enough to force him to drop his borrowed fork.

“and to eat together. and there's seven fishes, which means you have to make seven entirely different dishes. seven entirely different ways. and that takes a lot of time, and i think spending that time and using that time on the people that we love is how we show them that we love them,” donna was practically in tears as steven spoke of love and togetherness. maybe that’s all she wanted, love and togetherness. holidays were hard enough, but maybe she needed familial support rather than criticism. though it was hard not to criticize her or anyone else at the table because of their unwillingness to get help for their issues. they all complained of each other’s anger and hostility but never complained of their own.

“…and maybe we eat too much…and we definitely drink too much, and we say too much without listening, but tonight w-we're gonna eat seven fishes which is absurd,” michelle gave a small chuckle at steven's quips in his blessing.

“but we have to take extra time to do it and we have to chew more and we have to listen more. and, uh, we only get to do this tonight one time, so i, by the way, love it. i love being here. thank you for having me every year at this. i look…i very much look forward to this. and i love you,” he said looking towards michelle, her eyes fluttering at his sweet devotion.

“i-i-i’m very in love with michelle, and i'm not gay like you guys asked a lot, but i was thinking about what you said about bears and how they're aggressive,” steven continued to chatter, though his gaze only on michelle now.

“they're aggressive, but they're kind…they're sensitive,” his gaze was genuinely loving and of light as he looked at michelle.

“you guys have been so kind to me. you guys let me hang out with you every holiday. i don’t have a family like this and i'm really grateful that, um, you make space for me at this table and time for me on the holidays,”

“may god bless us and keep us safe in the new year, and please give michael the strength not to throw that fork, amen,” steven concluded, shutting his eyes tightly for a moment. michelle wrapped him in a tight embrace as they uttered soft ‘i love yous’ to each other.

“stevie, that was, uh, that was beautiful,” mikey commented.

donna was wiping her final tears away with a sigh. her wrinkled hands brought her cigarette to her mouth again. “it doesn't fuckin’ matter,” she muttered, her eyes closed tightly.

carmen was scratching his temple as he looked at his mother. his hand was now on yours that had been still sitting on his knee from earlier. his palm was sweaty, probably from the overwhelming amount of stress that the holiday was causing him.

“no, donna, it’s great,” you uttered as everyone else at the table tried to send their praises to her. everyone's attention was on her, trying to coax her into a better mindset.

the only one that didn't attempt to say anything was carmen, his jaw clenched tightly as he saw donna begin to exhale.

“you okay?” sugar whispered, carmen's head flipping to look at his sister. everyone at the table closed their eyes in dismay. everyone had made it through conversations, pete’s eighth fish, lee's belittling, mikey's two fork throws, and steven's version of grace, but they all knew they couldn't escape this.

sug…no…sugar

“oh, natalie rose berzatto,” donna’s eyes were closed as she leaned back in her chair, only opening them when she flicked her head towards her middle child. “do you know how much i hate when you ask me that?”

natalie's mouth was agape, trying to avoid eye contact with her mother.

mikey had dropped pete’s fork on the table he ran his hands through his hair. his petty fork throws were nothing in comparison to the hurricane that was brewing across the table.

“do you know how much i fuckin’ hate when you ask me that?” donna's teeth were gritted, a maniacal laugh surfacing as she spoke so harshly to natalie. “do you ask the rest of these people if they're okay?”

“no,” a simple answer spouted from sweet natalie, though donna wouldn't let her get any other words in as she was so keen on speaking over her daughter.

“do i not look okay, natalie?”

“not really,” michelle was saying what everyone else was thinking, though now donna's attention was now on the other side of the table.

“oh, fuck you, michelle,” donna spat. “i do not look okay? did i not just bust my ass all day for you motherfuckers?”

“i didn't mean it like that,” michelle uttered, though her shoulders dropped. she looked defeated and unheard.

donna stood from her chair, gesturing towards the table. “this is beautiful!” she exclaimed waving and shaking her hands wildly. “am i okay? am i okay? are you motherfuckers okay?”

she was screaming, her eyes wandering across the family and friends sitting in their chairs. “are you okay, lee?” she sneered.

“you didn't do shit! this is fucking gorgeous! fuck you!” donna was slurring her words the louder she became. she threw a plate to the ground. “fuck you!” she concluded, stomping away after giving her final curses to natalie.

“it's okay,” michelle quickly and quietly tried to tend to natalie by rubbing her arm.

you squeezed carmen's knee. you needed him to know you were still there. you were witnessing this with him.

lee looked from left to right with a shrug. “well, i guess we all knew that was gonna happen. so it's out. and, uh, maybe everybody, everybody can relax, huh?” he suggested, taking a breath. though mikey didn't seem as convinced with this advice.

“that's the worst i've ever seen her,” michelle mentioned, not to be rude, but to possibly try and lighten the unfortunate situation they were all now a part of.

the clattering of silverware was heard through the dining area. mikey cocked his arm back and launched the fork at lee's head.

lee hopped up in an instant. “you fuckin’ piece of shit!”

michael flipped the table, every dish and placemat was now on the floor as lee and mikey charged toward each other. the fak brothers immediately tried to hold the two men back as everyone else tried to get as far away from the chaos as possible. jimmy was screaming, hell, everyone was screaming at each other.

carmen managed to pull you close to the back wall nearest the dessert. you willingly followed his harsh tugging on your hand not wanting to get in the midst of more chaos than needed.

richie pushed tiffany towards jimmy, wanting her safety to remain intact as he went to pull mikey away from lee. richie was almost immediately forced away by mikey with an overpowering shove. the faks were still attempting to hold the men apart from each other when there was a loud crash.

donna had rammed her car through the foyer. she had gone through the front of the home, squandering the christmas tree and the remaining sanity of the rest of the guests. that was what caused mikey to rush to donna, snap out of his anger with lee, and come to her rescue. he was beating on the driver's side window.

“ma, what did you do?!” he was repeating it over and over trying to make her open her car door. donna remained locked in the car, but mikey's banging only became more forceful as donna was laughing. “open the door, ma!”

christmas was a sick joke. donna had turned the script. she won a trophy for the most narcissistic member of family dinner.

carmen was staring at a pile of pistachio-crusted cannolis topped with powdered sugar, but his main focus was the silver fork, the third and final fork, sticking out of the sweet dessert.

natalie, sugar, whoever she was, the middle child of the berzattos sat in her chair, shocked into place, staring wide-eyed at the misfortune of the holiday.

you didn't exactly remember how you and carmen ended up outside, but the chilly chicago air was calming the nerves of the both of you. carmen was pacing, chain-smoking cigarettes as you stared at him. it was a long moment of silence, though after begging for quiet earlier it only felt worse now.

the christmas lights illuminated him perfectly as he stopped and turned to look at you. his mind had calmed down to a dull roar and flicked the ash from his final smoke. carmen had enough of dealing with “mom duty.” he was done with family. it was peach and bear together again.

“why the hell did you not tell me you were working in the restaurant?” carmen asked with a huff, though he was looking past you into the window of his childhood home. carmen was deflecting; he didn't want to think of any of tonight's events.

“bear, i–”

“peach, what the hell were you thinking?”

i'm not thinking. not about that right now at least. i'm thinking about the car through the house we used to play in and how your brother, my boss, just went ape shit on your mom's boyfriend.

“i was thinking that i needed a job, and no one else would hire me with my schedule,” you admitted, tilting your head while your eyebrows furrowed.

“mikey, fuckin’, asshole,” carmen crossed his arms, stamping out the cigarette butt he threw to the ground. his pile was complete though his muscle memory reached for the package in his pocket until he grunted finding the package in a crumpled ball next to his lighter. “h-he hires you to fuckin’ stare and never gave me half of a goddamn chance,”

“it's not like that. i bag sandwiches and make less than minimum wage,” you held your temples, leaning against the siding of the house. “you're a chef. a good fuckin’ chef, and you want to work at some shithole that can barely pay to keep the lights on?”

“that's not what i'm trying to say and you know it,” carmen huffed, stepping closer to you, trying not to alert the neighbors of any more dysfunction from the household. there were already enough of them standing outside of their homes looking at the new garage donna had installed.

“bear, i have been picking up the pieces of that restaurant for the past nine months, and not once have i complained to you or even mentioned it because i know the shit that goes on there is only going to drag you down,” you explained though your chest felt heavy and empty. nine months of confusion, busting your ass, using every inch of the backbone you had to grow, and only watching a steady decline in the restaurant.

“y/n, i never asked you to do it! i don't need to be looked after like a damn child,” he spat. he was gripping the back of his hair trying to keep his anger contained. it only spiraled so quickly because his mind was reliving every moment from the night.

“carmen,” you crossed your arms. your expression had dropped. your nails were digging into the palms of your hands. “you let them drag you back into this every time. you continue to let them suck you into the ridiculousness and hysteria. how many times are you going to let them keep doing this to you? because every time i beg you to do something better you turn around and let them squander everything.”

“so i'm supposed to leave and never come back? it’s my fault for letting them do it? like i don't already have enough to worry about now i have to let this go so easily? like i'm trying to fix myself, make myself better by doing something for my career and you're mad because i come home for christmas,” carmen scoffed, as he only stepped closer.

“carmen, have you not listened to a word i've said? let me try again, you can't keep coming back because they ruin you.”

“why are you in that fuckin’ restaurant then? why do you care so much?”

“because i don't want them to call you and bring you back to the hell you're crawling out of because i fucking care about you! i have no connection to them other than you! i'm almost done here in chicago and i don't want to have to leave and know you've been coerced back because of the people that are always hurting you,” you exhaled, trying to contain yourself though carmen was frustrating you. your expression never softened. your head was pounding from the night's volume level being at a constant high. “you barely talk to me anymore because we always have this same conversation.”

carmen stared blankly. he released the grip on the back of his hair and shoved his hands into his pockets. he was so conflicted. he wanted to be the best he could be. he wanted more than who he was raised to be, but then struggled in knowing that he would probably always fall back on his berzatto instincts. angry, spiteful, grudge-holding people who were almost always mentally ill.

“we barely talk anymore because i'm scared to ruin everything i have with you. i have years with you, and you have always tried so goddamn hard to help me, but y-you're right it's the same shit every year, every fuckin’ year,” carmen admitted, though he didn't want to make eye contact with you.

“you are only going to ruin this friendship if you keep pushing me away. i want to see you succeed and thrive. do you think it’s fun when i keep having to see you hurt?” you mumbled, unwilling to see his mental health decline any further. you couldn’t bear to keep seeing someone you cared so deeply for continue to be walked over, criticized, and disregarded.

“no, but damn, like, i keep failing every time i come back. failing you because i can never seem to listen. i keep thinking things will be different and every time i’m wrong i have the urge to keep coming back to see it become right.” carmen was pacing as he spoke, but the moment he stopped he managed to slide down the side of the house next to you. he crouched on his knees as he looked up at you.

“you’re so wrapped up in everything else you can’t see what’s in front of you. you have a career. jesus, you have me, bear.” you uttered with a sigh, as you slid down next to him. his hand immediately found your hand that was resting on your thigh and gently began to trace lines onto your knuckles.

“peach, be realistic, it’s not just about me,” you rolled your eyes at his comment and shook your head.

“your life is all about you, carmen. you can control it and you can decide who you want in your life. my best suggestion is to only let those in who care. stop running away from what you want because you feel tied to your shitty family in chicago. is it just easier to hide it under your pride?” your head leaned against his shoulder, and carmen only continued to play with your hand as the tow truck meticulously tried to back into the driveway of the house to pull donna’s car out of the house.

“how am i not supposed to run?” carmen asked stifling a laugh, watching the scene intently.

“keep dedicating yourself to it. you’ve done a helluva good job so far, keep it up,” you encouraged, sighing at the car being pulled out of the house. you were only grateful no other family members bothering you both.

it was a long spell of silence, but carmen stopped rubbing your hand. he cleared his throat, making you turn your head towards him.

“i care about you too…like, l-like peach, i really fuckin’ care,” carmen admitted thinking about what you had said earlier.

“i never have stopped caring, bear,” you confessed, moving to sit flat on the ground. your hands raked through the grass nervously, never having admitted any feeling towards him in the many years of knowing him.

“i-i don’t know how to do any of this, or know anything about how to deal with this,” carmen fixated on your eyes with something vulnerable in them.

“you don’t have to know right now. you don’t have to rush with me, but you need to focus on being healthy and working for what you want,” you comforted him, being lost in the blue pools in front of you.

“i want you, peach,” he confirmed, nodding slowly, his hand caressing your cheek. “it’s going to take a while to figure you out, and fuck, i’ve known you longer than i’ve been able to cook, but i’ll be damned if i keep letting you go again, or letting my brother try and smooth talk you for me.”

“keep working then, bear, i’ll always be here.” a smile spread across your face as you relaxed into his side.

christmas would likely never be the same for you and carmen. each year that passed you saw carmen in the news, each time growing into a more successful person. you were proud of him. you regularly kept in touch, both of you just waiting for the right moment. each of you were so involved in your careers away from chicago, but still so involved with each other.

it wasn’t until carmen took over the beef that you knew he was back in chicago. you always wondered why he had gone back after being so adamant to stay away, but the moment he was back you were back with him. visiting his apartment, wondering why he had jeans in his oven, reminiscing on the good times, and trying to talk through the bad.

thinking back to the eventful christmas holiday carmen often mentioned to you how mikey and richie pestered him about you, and he hated admitting it, but they were right. you were the love of his life. the one that was always there. the one that was patient. the one that waited. the one that kept him grounded.

he missed mikey, well, he missed who he remembered mikey to be. every time he uncovered a new terrible part of his past he would call you, trying to talk through the emotions rather than dwelling on them and having a massive and uncontrollable berzatto outburst. his anxiety would never be gone and his perfectionism ruled his life, but you allowed it to be easier managed.

it was peach and bear again because it was always just meant to be peach and bear no matter how long it took, how many arguments were had, no matter how many messages were unsent, and no matter how many times they left each other only to find one another again.

[midnight--sadness]

Team X starting to talk about the best sexual exeprience they've had (it was one of those in between moments where they're waiting for the announcement of the next games) they don't know they even got to that conversation but talking about random things feels like they're just friends hanging out and it helps with the fears and anticipation. "Youngil" turns to Gihun and flirtingly asks about Gihun's sex life and after much coaxing by the others, he relates that there is someone. He met them some time ago, a cop who's younger than him. He was looking for his brother who was connected to the games and they were helping Gihun out with taking the games down. "Youngil" ALREADY knows who Gihun's talking about and he already has that "oh shit" expression on his face. THEN Gihun just starts talking about how good the younger man is in bed, how much stamina he has, like talks about the dude wanting to have sex like all the time. The worst part is Gihun was trying so hard to keep it PG but even then it was still TMI for an older brother. Gihun talks about how the young dude's cock never seems to stop being hard and "Youngil" wants to dig a hole for himelf. And lol when Gihun talks about how the guy was strong and sweet and lovely, and he might be falling for the guy, "Youngil" wants to die because what the hell was he supposed to do now. His kidney isn't the only thing he's little brother's gonna have.

this is so ibvnkirnvkikt 😭😭😭

inho listening to gihun talking abt how his baby brother fucks him so good every night:

(inho was also realizing that his kidney in junho's body was the closest he was ever getting to being inside gihun 😣)

one of the greatest things abt junhun in my opinion is inho's reaction to him bc i know he'd be crashing tf out 😭😭

after that talk, gihun is more open and sometimes just randomly starts talking abt his hot cop situationship (they're not boyfriends quite yet!) and "youngil" is trying not to strangle himself with the bed sheets 😖 junhee finds them cute, daeho is a bit perturb to hear bc he respects gihun, and jungbae is proud his bestie is getting laid.

and like u said, gihun doesn't get into details or particularly graphic, but the people around kinda get the gist of the situation. the situation being that gihun is a bottom and this younger guy is laying into him every night, several rounds a night....

inho is this 🤏 close to igniting the dynamite under the island and blowing them all up!

[millersgirl80]

Summer Break ch.3

Masterlist

I’m A/N: The next chapter will be where it starts picking up! I’m trying to put out a new chapter every couple of days.

Summary: It’s the day of Joel’s annual bbq

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

Word count: 3.5k

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

The vibration of my phone pulled me from a fitful sleep. I groaned, rolling over and squinting at the screen. It was him.

Joel.

A knot tightened in my stomach, a familiar mix of anticipation and anxiety swirling within me.

“Hey,” the message read. “Just wanted to see how you’re doing after our talk. You okay?”

Okay. Was I okay? That was a loaded question.

Last night, we’d finally put words to the unspoken tension that had been simmering between us. A tension fueled by undeniable attraction, yet bound by the uncomfortable reality of our circumstances. He was older, significantly so, and to make matters even more complicated, he was a friend of my dad’s. It was a tangled web, woven with affection, regret, and a whole lot of “shouldn’t be’s.”

I had danced around the issue for so long, the casual touches lingering a little too long, the stolen glances carrying a weight that went beyond friendly camaraderie. Last night, though, the dam had finally broken. I’d confessed something for him, something I had fought against for a few years, something that made him deeply uncomfortable. And I, caught in the crossfire of my own emotions, brought that onto him.

The conversation had ended with a painful, yet necessary, understanding. We couldn’t be together. The age gap, the friendship with my father… it was simply too much, too wrong. Yet, the idea of severing ties completely felt unbearable.

“Yeah, I’m… alright,” I typed back, hesitating before hitting send. “Just a bit tired.”

“Good. Listen,” his next message popped up almost immediately. “I know things are weird, but I still want you around darlin. Today’s the BBQ, and I could really use your help. Think you can handle it?”

My heart skipped a beat. But knowing the undercurrent that now flowed between us, it felt like so much more. A test, perhaps? A way to prove that we could navigate this new reality without succumbing to the pull that threatened to consume us.

“Yeah,” I replied, my fingers trembling slightly. “I can help. What time?”

He told me he’d pick me up at 10 am. I barely slept the rest of the early morning, replaying our conversation in my head, wondering if I was making a terrible mistake. Was I being naive? Was I setting myself up for more heartbreak?

Before I knew it, it was close to 10. Joel should be here any minute. I dressed in a pair of well-worn jeans and a simple t-shirt, trying to appear casual and unfazed, even though my insides were a tangled mess of nerves. When I saw his truck pull up outside, I took a deep breath and walked out to meet him.

He looked tired, the lines around his eyes a little more pronounced. But his smile, when he saw me, was genuine and warm.

“Morning,” he said, his voice rough around the edges. “Thanks for doing this.”

I just nodded, climbing into the passenger seat. The familiar scent of leather and engine oil filled the air, a scent I’d come to associate with a sense of comfort and a quiet kind of adventure. Today, however, it only amplified my unease.

The drive to his house was silent, punctuated only by the crackle of the radio. I kept my gaze fixed on the passing scenery, trying to avoid his eyes. The landscape was familiar, the rolling hills and scattered farms of our small town. Yet everything felt different now, tainted by the knowledge of our shared secret.

When we arrived, the scene was already bustling with activity. His daughter, Sarah, a vibrant teenager with her father’s stubborn streak, was setting up tables in the backyard. Tommy, Joel’s younger brother, was wrestling with the charcoal grill, muttering under his breath.

“Hey, you made it!” Sarah greeted me with a cheerful smile, oblivious to the tension that crackled in the air. “Dad said you were coming to help. Awesome!”

I forced a smile in return, feeling a pang of guilt. How much did Sarah know? Could she sense the awkwardness between her father and me?

“Good to see you too,” Tommy said, flashing a grin. “You’re a lifesaver. I’m about to lose my mind trying to get this damn grill to cooperate.”

The presence of Sarah and Tommy was a welcome distraction, forcing me to focus on the task at hand. We spent the next few hours setting up for the BBQ, hauling tables, arranging chairs, and prepping food. I helped Sarah with the salads, chopping vegetables and mixing dressings. Tommy, after finally conquering the grill, started marinating the ribs. Joel, meanwhile, circulated, offering guidance and keeping everyone on track.

Despite the busyness, the unspoken tension between Joel and me remained palpable. We avoided direct eye contact, our conversations clipped and impersonal. Every accidental brush of hands, every fleeting glance, sent a jolt through me, a reminder of the feelings we were trying so hard to suppress.

At one point, while I was rinsing lettuce, Joel came up behind me. I could feel his presence before I even saw him.

“Thanks for being here,” he murmured, his voice low and close to my ear.

I didn’t turn around. “It’s no problem,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

“It means a lot,” he continued, his hand brushing against my arm. “Especially after… everything.”

I finally turned to face him, my heart pounding in my chest. His eyes, usually so warm and inviting, were filled with a mixture of longing and regret.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea, Joel,” I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. “Being here, pretending like everything’s normal…”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know,” he said. “It’s not ideal. But I can’t just… cut you out of my life. Not completely.”

His words were both a relief and a source of renewed anxiety. He still wanted me around, but in what capacity? As a friend? A helper?

Do you want to talk about it?” he continued, his tone careful, tentative as if he were testing the waters. My heart raced at the prospect, but the idea of rehashing my feelings felt suffocating.

“Not right now,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “I think I just… need to focus on the barbecue.”

Empathy cloaked his expression. I could see the understanding etched across his features; he didn’t want to pressure me, but he was just as trapped in the web of our shared emotions as I was.

As we worked side by side, I found myself stealing glances at him, thinking of all the moments we had shared over the years until I left—game nights, backyard talks about life, those quick fleeting touches that sent electric shocks through my body. In some small ways, it felt as though we were still dancing around the edges of what we could be. Or I was.

I looked at the clock. “12:00” I washed my hands off and setting everything to the side. “I should head home and get ready.” I say turning to face Joel. Joel nods “Come on, I will give you a ride back.” For a fleeting moment, light danced in my chest at the thought of spending more time with him. But, as if a bucket of cold water had splashed across my aspirations, reality struck. “Thanks, but Tasha is picking me up,” I said, my voice strained as I tried to maintain a casual tone. I hated the disappointment I saw flicker across his face.

“Alright, no problem,” he replied, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Lifting my spirits, I waved him off as I turned to the door.

Moments later. Tasha's bright red car is pulling up. She was always the sunshine on a cloudy day, and tonight was no exception. Joel walks me outside. “I’ll see you tonight, right?” He whispers, his hand on my arm. “Yea of course.” I smiled. Joel offers a smile back nodding as he opened the car door helping me inside. Watching us pull off.

As I put my seat belt on, I was met with Tasha's big grin inching across her face, a testament to her insatiable curiosity. “What’s the deal with you and Joel?” she asked, waggling her eyebrows like a cartoon character.

I sighed, rolling my eyes playfully. “It’s not like that. Trust me. He’s “too old for me.” And plus he’s my dad’s best friend.”

“Come on, that’s just an excuse!” Tasha chided, her enthusiasm bubbling over. “You cannot tell me that you didn’t feel something tonight. I saw the way he looked at you while you were talking. There is definitely something brewing there!”

I felt my cheeks flush. “I don’t know, Tasha. I mean,I told him last night how I felt and he completely shut it down.” The words tumbled from my mouth, deep down, my heart ached at the conversation.

“Let’s put a pin in that,” she said dramatically, flipping her hair back, “because tonight we are on a mission — a shopping spree for the BBQ!”

Energized by her enthusiasm, I felt a spark of optimism as we drove toward the small outdoor shopping district. The vibrant colors and lively atmosphere lifted my spirits as I turned my focus to finding the perfect outfit.

Tasha had an eye for fashion, always keeping things fun and fresh.

We flitted from parlor to parlor, darting in and out of clothing stores, fabric rustling under our fingertips. I found a light sundress that floated around my knees, simple yet elegant, but deep within me lingered a desire for something bolder. “I need something that will give me courage,” I said as Tasha rifled through a rack of swimwear.

“A bikini!” she shouted, as though she had solved a great mystery. “There! Try this one on.” She tossed me a cheerful two-piece, adorned with bright floral patterns that made it scream summer.

I examined it hesitantly — it was cute, but would it really convey confidence? “Do you think I can pull this off?” I asked, feeling a mix of excitement and dread.

“Absolutely! Just remember, confidence is the best accessory you can wear.” She winked, pushing me toward the changing room, all while squealing about how much she loved it.

Moments later, I emerged from behind the curtain, clad in the bikini beneath my sundress, feeling both empowered and terrified. Tasha beamed, clapping her hands together. “You look amazing! Wear this to the BBQ; this is going to make waves — literally!”

With the sundress and bikini in tow, we enjoyed the rest of our evening immersed in laughter and girl talk. But amid the fun, I couldn’t silence my conflicted feelings about Joel. I told Tasha about our earlier conversation, a whirlpool of emotions spilling from me.

“What if he’s right?” I wondered aloud, twirling a loose strand of hair. “What if our age gap really does matter?”

Tasha shook her head emphatically. “That’s for you two to figure out! My point is this: just because he’s close to your dad doesn’t mean you can’t explore what’s there. If you want to, go for it. Life is too short to tiptoe around feelings! And what if he’s just scared to go there, maybe he needs a little push?”

As I reflected on her words, I felt a sense of clarity washing over me. Tasha was right. I wouldn’t allow fear to consume me — I owed it to myself to at least find out if there was genuine chemistry with Joel.

As I stood in front of the full-length mirror in my room, I couldn’t help but admire the vibrant yellow sundress I had chosen for the day. The fabric flowed like summer’s sun, perfectly complementing the floral bikini I had tucked underneath. There was an electric thrill in the air, a feeling that today would be one of those days etched into memory forever.

Beside me, Tasha was busy applying sunscreen and fixing her hair. She wore a cheerful crop top that hugged her figure perfectly, coupled with high-waisted shorts that showcased her slender legs. Tasha was nothing if not confident, and I admired her for it. I caught a glimpse of the bright blue bikini peeking from under her crop top, promising a day of fun in the sun.

“Ready?” I asked, tossing my hair back over my shoulder as I reached for my bag. Tasha gave me a huge grin, one that reflected the excitement I could feel bubbling up inside both of us. Today was not just any day; we were finally headed to Joel's barbecue.

As we made our way down the stairs, the sound of laughter and chatter drifted towards us from the living room. I felt a flutter of anxiety as we approached the kitchen, where my stepmother Melissa lounged, a glass of wine in one hand and a disapproving glare plastered on her face.

“Look at those two,” I heard her say to her friend Angie, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I mean, is that really appropriate for a barbecue full of men?” I felt my cheeks flush, but I quickly brushed it off. Melissa always had something to say about my choices, but today felt too good to let her ruin my mood.

“We’re just having fun, like any other day,” Tasha whispered encouragingly as we walked past, ignoring the snarky whispers. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Melissa rolling her eyes, and I could practically hear Angie chuckling on her behalf. “Are you going Melissa?” Tasha asked sweetly. “No, I have more important things to attend too.” Melissa snarked. “Oh thank god, no one will be miserable over there.” Tasha gasp placing her hand on her chest, causing Melissa to stomp off.

As we made our way to Joel’s, the familiar sights and sounds of the neighborhood greeted me. The smell of grilled food wafted through the air, mixing with the laughter of friends. The vibe was palpable, electric with anticipation.

When we finally pulled up to his house, my heart sank slightly at the sight before me: the backyard was alive with activity. Laughter cascaded like music, and the vibrant colors of the decorations made the space feel like a summery oasis. I noticed Joel immediately; he was standing by the grill, flipping burgers, laughter spilling out of him like he was the life of the party. But what made my heart race was the way he looked at me, his eyes lighting up as they met mine. In that moment, nothing else mattered.

“Over here!” Joel called, waving me over. I felt a rush of exhilaration as I made my way through the crowd, elbowing my way past old friends and unfamiliar faces. Tasha quickly caught up with me, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

As we approached, I could see Joel was flanked by my dad and Tommy, both of them holding cold beers and chatting animatedly. The sight of all the familiar faces felt comforting, yet a bit skewed. Joel’s eyes remained glued to me, a spark between us that felt electric.

Tommy leaned over to Tasha, “Hey, you want to check out the DJ set-up I made? I think I’ve got a few tracks you’d love.” I shot Tasha a teasing look, but she merely smirked and nodded enthusiastically.

Before I knew it, they had slipped away, leaving me standing there with my dad and Joel. I felt a flutter of uncertainty as I wondered if I should have gone with them.

A reassuring smile from Joel put me at ease. “You look amazing, by the way,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “That dress is perfect for you.” I felt a flush creep up my cheeks, and as we exchanged more conversation, I realized that my worries were unfolding into laughter and light-hearted moments, erasing all strangeness from the air. I made my way around greeting some old friends from the neighborhood making my way inside for a drink.

Just then, my heart dropped as I felt a familiar presence. I turned slightly, and there he was: Josh, my ex-boyfriend. He was leaning against a wall, a casual smirk on his face, and in that moment, I felt as if the air had been sucked out of the space around me.

“You look great,” he said, and even though I tried to act nonchalant, I could tell that my heart was pounding. I hadn’t expected to see him here, and the memories started flooding back, colorful yet tinged with a bittersweet edge. After a calming breath, I forced a smile and replied, “Thanks, Josh. It's good to see you.”

Clearly, he was feeling the atmosphere, too. “Looks like you’re having fun,” he said, his eyes scanning up and down my body. “I was thinking about grabbing something to eat and then heading out.”

“Yeah, you should,” I replied, trying to maintain my composure while my mind raced. “The food is great here.” I can feel the discomfort wrap around my shoulders like a heavy shawl.

Josh stands with his arms crossed, his body language screaming hostility, his piercing gaze and overbearing presence can silence a room. The way he draws in his breath, as if the very air around him bends to his will, stirs familiar feelings of discomfort within me. I remember the way he used to manipulate me, twisting my thoughts until I couldn't tell up from down. Perhaps that's why, after our toxic relationship ended, I found the strength to run from him, despite the scars left on my heart. “Leave with me, let’s go have some fun like old times.” Josh smirks running his hand down my spine causing me to shiver with fear. “I can’t tonight Josh.” I say stepping away.

The conversation took a turn as Josh leaned closer and revealed his feelings, his words hanging thick in the air between us. “I’ve always cared about you. I think it’s about time we stop pretending.” My mind was racing, grappling with how to defuse the situation.“Josh, I… I don’t feel the same way. I think you're mistaken about what we have.”

The look on his face shifted, the disappointment morphing into frustration. I could see anger brewing in his eyes, yet I felt the gravity of my confession settle in. “You don’t get to choose who I feel for, Darlin! It’s you I want, and it’s time you accept that,” he asserted, his voice laced with desperation.

My pulse quickened at the simmering tension, and I could feel the atmosphere shifting precariously between us. “I don’t think you should be here, Josh,” Joel’s voice cut through the air like a clean knife, deep and commanding.

I felt a rush of adrenaline as I recognized the protective note in his tone. I held my breath, bracing myself for the inevitable explosion. After everything Josh had put me through, I needed someone like Joel on my side, someone who wouldn’t cower in the face of Josh’s overbearing presence.

“Oh please, like you have any say in my life,” Josh snapped back, dismissing Joel with an air of disdain, which only heightened the tension. I could sense the fight brewing between them like a storm ready to break.

“Maybe I don’t,” Joel replied evenly, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to the heat rising between Josh and me. “But I’m telling you—leave now. You’re not welcome here.”

Josh laughed, a harsh, ugly sound that made the crowd pause for a moment. “What are you going to do, Joel? Protect her from me?” His mocking tone only served to raise the stakes, igniting Joel’s temper further.

“Walk away while you still can, Josh,” Joel said, stepping closer to Josh. I could feel my heart pounding in my ears, desperate to drown out the memories of manipulation and fear that Josh had ingrained in my very being.

“And what if I don’t?” Josh leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low growl. “What are you going to do about it?”

His eyes darkened, and I saw the flash of anger simmering just below the surface, a wild boar beneath a veneer of civility. “You think you can just walk away from what we had? I’m not letting you go that easily.” He looks at me.

In a moment of clarity, I stepped forward, my heartbeat steadying as I met his gaze without flinching. “You can’t keep pulling me back into your chaos.” I felt the warmth of Joel’s presence behind me, bolstering my resolve.

The room felt charged, and though everyone’s eyes were trained on the scene unfolding, I felt an unexpected sense of power surge within me. Josh turned to face Joel, ready for a fight that would no longer include me.

“Just remember,” Josh hissed before backing up a step, his body language radiating a threat. “I won’t forget this.”

He turned abruptly, slipping through the crowd, leaving a void that echoed loudly in his absence. Joel reassured the guest everything was okay and food was done. I ran a hand through my hair catching my breath. Joel reached out for me. “Come on.” Joel grabbed my hand pulling me upstairs.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist: @lostboys1987girl @tikosblogg @untamedheart81 🤍

[theemporium]

request for quinn hughes !!

quinn and luke’s childhood girl best friend finally get together during the summer of ‘21, keeping it a secret from everyone but their moms

luke’s bsf even goes out of her way to fly to vancouver to see quinn during the season and uses the excuse “i’m visiting my brother in van” because her brother goes to ubc.

i didn't really specify the summer but thank you for requesting!!🫶🏽

part two

.

“Wait, what do you mean you’re not coming out tonight?” 

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you held your phone between your ear and shoulder, your hand occupied with the pasta sauce you were currently making. 

“Because I’m in Vancouver, Luke,” you stated bluntly. “I told you I was coming up ages ago.” 

“To visit your brother?” 

To visit a brother, but he didn’t need to know that. 

“Yeah,” you said noncommittally. “I promise I’ll go out with you and the boys next time though.”

“How long are you up there for?” 

You opened your mouth to reply, only to hear the front door open and shut. You waited a moment before Quinn rounded the corner, something in his eyes lighting up the second he saw you. He went to say something but you quickly placed your finger over your lips before you finally replied to Luke. 

“Probably for a week or so, I’m not sure yet,” you said to the younger Hughes. “Listen, I’ll talk to you later, my brother just walked in—”

“Oh, let me say hi—”

“Bye, Luke!” You quickly hung up before the boy got a chance to say another word. 

You placed your phone down on the counter, letting out a small sigh of relief before you turned to your boyfriend, who was only looking at you with an amused expression. 

“I’m your brother now?” He joked. 

“Shut up,” you grumbled as you turned back to the lunch you were making for the two of you before Quinn slipped out the house to run a few errands. 

Your relationship with Quinn Hughes over the years could be described in one word: nonexistent.

When you were younger, you were nothing but Luke’s best friend that he insisted tagged along to every family event the Hughes family held. When you were in high school, Quinn was the cool, older brother who went off to college and followed his dream. By the time you were in college, he was off in Vancouver, playing in the big leagues and living the life he always dreamed of. 

It just so happened that a fateful night at the lakehouse last summer would be the very thing to completely shatter the nonexistent relationship between you. The second you both saw each other that summer, it was different: you were no longer the little kid tagging along, and he was no longer the older, grumpy brother you barely saw. 

It was different. You were different. 

Late night conversations around the fire slowly shifted into something more, and all it took was a beer or two for confidence before you found yourself rolled between the sheets of Quinn Hughes’ bed. 

And what started off as a summer fling slowly dropped into the autumn months, followed through Christmas and New Years. And now, it was February and you were still going strong. 

Not that anybody knew that—especially not Luke.

“I’m teasing,” Quinn murmured as he slid in behind you, his arms winding around your waist and his face pressed into the crook of your neck. “I do want you to come back, after all.”

Your lips twitched upwards. “A whole week of me not enough?” 

“Never,” he murmured against your skin, placing a soft kiss at the base of your neck because he knew it made you squirm. “Wish you could stay for longer.” 

“Luke would get suspicious if I stayed for Valentine’s,” you sighed as you leaned back in his embrace, wishing that you could stay for longer as well. 

“We could always tell him,” Quinn said after a few moments. 

“I paired up with Jack for beer pong once and he pouted for a week, how do you think he’ll react to this?” You asked. The bond between you and Luke could only be described as platonic soulmates, and that wasn’t something you wanted to lose, even if your relationship with Quinn was everything you could’ve asked for and more. 

“We were younger then,” he retorted. 

“It was last summer, Quinn,” you shot back, and the boy sighed heavily against your neck. 

“I just wish we didn’t have to hide it anymore,” Quinn grumbled, his arms tightening around you. “I’d like to hang out with my girlfriend in public, not sneak around like fucking teenagers.” 

“I thought you said the sneaking around was hot,” you teased. 

“It got boring after month three,” he admitted before he lifted his head, turning you around in his arms so you were facing him. “Let’s tell him. Luke’s a big boy, he can handle it.” 

You pressed your lips together. “You’re sure?” 

“Baby, you’re not gonna lose him over this,” he murmured in a soft, reassuring voice. “He might be a bit fussy, but he’s your best friend. If he sees you happy, then he will be happy.” 

“You make me happy,” you whispered, watching as a small smile grew on his face. 

“Then we’ll tell him,” Quinn nodded. 

“After this trip though,” you said. “I’d rather not spend the rest of my time here with Luke blowing up my phone. I want to tell him in person.” 

“Whatever you want,” Quinn nodded before his eyes darted down to your lips. However, just before he could lean down, you were quickly turning around. “That was cruel.”

“I’m cooking, Quinn, stop distracting me.” 

He raised his brows. “And one kiss is distracting?” 

“With you, it’s never one kiss,” you shot back. 

Quinn huffed out a laugh. “Fine, but afterwards you’re all mine, baby.” 

You bit back your smile. “You got yourself a deal, Hughes.”

.

[fanfictionalraven]

Love Drunk

Title: Love Drunk

Summary: The reader doesn't drink but has never been honest with Dean about it. What happens when he finds out?

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester

Word Count: 1,778

Warnings: Alcohol, misunderstandings

Authors' Note: This was an anonymous request. I hope this is what you were wanting, anon. Enjoy!!

It was a delicate process, an art form honestly. You should receive an Academy Award for your performances. Subtly raising a glass or bottle, the liquid never actually coming close to your lips. Managing to make the drink disappear in a variety of creative ways. Your favorite was always switching your drink with Dean’s. He somehow never even noticed his magically refilling beverages. It was more difficult when Sam was around, the always more observant brother. But you hadn’t been caught yet. Why all the smoke and mirrors? The reason was so ridiculously simple but you couldn’t bring yourself to confess.

You didn’t drink.

It wasn’t for medical or religious reasons as most people assumed. You just couldn’t stand alcohol. You never had been able to. Your 21st birthday had been spent on a hunt with your mom while all of your friends used theirs as an excuse to get absolutely wasted. It just didn’t appeal to you. Whiskey, beer, wine…you never touched any of it.

Dean on the other hand…he drank it like water.

You had planned to tell him, especially when the two of you became a thing. But it wasn’t a conversation you wanted to have. Any time you did people assumed you were either sick, pregnant, or a religious nut. So you perfected the art of pretending to drink whenever Dean popped a bottle or cracked open a six pack to celebrate a hunt well done. Like now…

“That shot you took, Y/N,” Dean starts, sliding a beer in front of you. You catch it and smile at him. “It was risky but damn. You nailed it, Sweetheart.”

“Just doing my job,” you laugh, bringing the bottle to your lips. Dean smiles and shakes his head, glancing away. You set the bottle back on the table. Sam sits across from you in the library of the bunker, picking up his beer as well.

“If Dean had listened to me to begin with, you wouldn’t have had to take that shot,” he says. Dean rolls his eyes and you smirk.

“You’re just jealous cause neither of you could have done that in a million years,” you tease. Dean laughs as he takes the seat next to you, his hand coming to rest on your knee under the table. You take another fake drink, gauging the level in Dean’s own bottle. He was already halfway through. Another long drink from him and you could make the switch before calling it a night. You sigh heavily and stretch. “I’m exhausted from picking up ya’ll’s slack all the time.” Dean rolls his eyes at your quip and gives your knee a squeeze before taking the drink.

“Pretty sure I remember saving your ass too,” Dean remarks, setting the drink back down. You roll your eyes but smile as you lean back in the seat, allowing the two brothers to become occupied by their own conversation.

Ever so subtly, you reach for the two bottles sitting just close enough on the table. You pick up Dean’s practically empty bottle slowly sliding your own full one into place. Bringing the empty bottle to your lips, you smile as Dean picks up the fresh one, not realizing anything.

“Alright. I’m going to take a shower. I would recommend you do as well before you come to bed,” you tell Dean, giving him a playful shove. He laughs and shakes his head, watching as you leave the room. When he turns back to continue his conversation, he finds his younger brother frowning at him.

“What?” He asks.

“She switched your drinks,” Sam tells him. Dean looks at the bottle in his head and the one you had left sitting on the table.

“Huh?”

“She did. She took a couple of drinks then she grabbed your bottle and switched them,” he says. Dean picks up the second, empty bottle and looks between the two.

“Why would she do that? This one is completely full,” he says. “Honest mistake?”

“I don’t think so. I saw her. It seemed deliberate,” Sam tells him. 

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Dean says, still looking at the two bottles in his hands.

“Unless…”

“Unless what?” Dean asks. Sam gives him a slightly embarrassed look as he shifts uncomfortably in his chair.

“Unless she’s…ya know…” Sam turns a hint of pink. “Pregnant?” Dean stares at his younger brother, unblinking. The two sit in silence for what feels like an eternity before Dean finally pushes his chair back to stand.

“Need some air,” he chokes out, heading for the stairs out of the bunker as fast as he can. Sam frowns as he watches his older brother.

“Oh boy,” he mumbles, reaching to clean up the bottles.

Half an hour or so later, you’ve finished your shower and dressed for bed. You’re just towel drying your hair when there’s a cough at the bedroom door behind you. Turning, you find Dean, his hands behind his back and the goofiest of grins on his face.

“What’s gotten into you?” You ask, laughing. He steps into the room and carefully closes the door behind himself. “I think I like where this is going…” He freezes and looks at you. Confusion and fear mix on his face.

“Is that safe?” He asks. That takes you aback. Is what safe? Is sex safe? Had he completely lost his mind?

“Wh-what??”

“I know,” he says with a sigh. You continue to stare at him in confusion. What the hell was he on about?

“I’m glad someone does. Care to enlighten me?” You ask. He lets out a small laugh as he steps over to you. You realize now that his hands were still behind his back. “What have you got?” He takes a deep breath before holding up the item he’d been concealing. Your eyes widen in absolute horror.

A pink onesie.

Daddy’s Princess written in the most god-awful, golden, glittery script.

“I know,” Dean says again. You take a moment to steady yourself, still trying to figure out what is happening. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you inhale deeply.

“What exactly do you know, Dean?” You ask.

“You…you’re pregnant, right?” He asks. “Sam noticed that you switched our drinks and…”

You cut him off with a curse and collapse onto the edge of the bed behind you. What you had assumed was a masterful performance had been seen through. You were busted.

“I’m not pregnant, Dean,” you confess, running your hands over your face.

“Oh.” He looks at the tiny garment in his hand and awkwardly lays it on top of the desk beside him. Without saying a word, he walks over and sits next to you on the bed. “So…what’s going on then?”

“It’s so stupid,” you mutter.

“Y/N, come on. We tell each other everything,” he says, hand coming to rest on your knee once again. You look up at him and nod. He was right of course.

“I don’t drink. I’ve been pretending to since…since we met. Cause it was easier than having this conversation. No. It’s not because of some religious thing. It’s not because of some health thing. It’s not because I’m pregnant,” you say, giving him a pointed look. “I just…don’t like it.”

“Okay,” he says slowly. He hesitates for a moment before speaking again. “I’m sorry if I…made you feel pressured or anything.”

“No. Dean,” you sigh and shake your head. “Of course not. You didn’t know. You were just…being polite.”

“I…I get that you didn’t really want to have this conversation but…I just don’t understood why you hide it from me of all people,” he says. He was hurt now. You could tell. Of course he was. You’d been lying to him for years at this point. You’d be hurt too.

“Honestly?” You ask. “It…just…seems to be…a fairly large part…of your life…” You say the words slowly, trying to find the right ones. You don’t want it to sound like…

“Are you saying I’m an alcoholic?” He asks. That. You didn’t want it to sound like that.

“No. Of course not. I’m just…saying…” You frown more. “You seem to like it as much as I dislike it.” He nods as he mulls this over for a moment. You bite your lip as you watch him, hoping you haven't overstepped.

“Does it bother you?” He asks. “How much I drink?”

“Sometimes,” you admit. He nods once again then shrugs his shoulders.

“Then I’ll cut back,” he says. You stare at him in disbelief and immediately try to disagree but he holds up a hand. “Hey. If we’re really committed to this, to us, then we gotta compromise, right? That’s what couples do. If I’m doing something that bothers you, I need to fix it.”

“You would do that?” You ask, suddenly on the brink of tears. It was such a sweet gesture, you almost couldn’t believe it.

“I’m not saying I’m going cold turkey or that I’ll ever fully stop but…I’ll ease up,” he says. You smile widely as you throw your arms around him. The two of you fall back onto the bed, tangled up in each other’s arms.

“Everyone else has either laughed me off as being childish or just didn’t care about my opinion at all,” you tell him. He smirks and shrugs.

“That’s what you get for comparing me to all those losers in your past,” he teases, squeezing your sides. You laugh and try to get away but he only pulls you closer. Your head comes to rest on his chest and you sigh heavily.

“Is there anything I do that bothers you? It’s only fair I ask in return,” you say. He’s quiet for a moment as he thinks.

“Yea, actually,” he says. You look up at him, expectantly. “Your clothes are highly offensive. I don’t think you should wear them anymore.” Before you can even react, he begins to undress you. You can’t help but laugh as he peels your shirt off.

“Idiot,” you mumble before kissing him. His fingers thread into your hair as he deepens the kiss. He finally breaks away from your lips and begins to make his way down your neck to your collarbone. “Thank you for understanding,” you tell him softly.

“Of course,” he says between kisses and gentle nips. “Besides…I’d rather just be drunk on you.” You throw your head back laughing and shake your head, pushing away from him.

“No. No, that was way too cheesy. I’m out,” you tell him. He gives you a crooked smile before quickly flipping you onto your back on the bed. You had to admit…getting drunk on Dean was just your kind of wasted.

***

Forever Tags: @roseblue373

Jensen Tags: @call-me-mrs-winchester

[tojiluv]

EYES DON'T LIE — choso kamo [chapter ten]

description: in which a girl unwittingly becomes involved with a handsome stranger in a club, oblivious to his true identity of being in a famous boyband… OR in which you and Choso must conceal your secret meetings from your friends and his bandmates, especially from his younger brother and your best friend, Yuji.

warnings: nsfw MDNI. fem! receiving. vaginal fingering. praising. doing it in the car. swearing. choso calls you 'angel' & 'pretty'. choso's a tease.

notes: i know i said i come back in two weeks but that didn't happen lol, so sorry! i'm back now and hope this chapter makes up for it, especially for being the longest chapter i wrote (4000+ words). this is my first time writing some form of smut, so bear with me as it may be cringe.

Yuji was home.

Yuji's return sent shockwaves through the house, jolting you and Choso into a frenzy of panic. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, propelling you to disentangle from Choso with a racing heart, desperately attempting to compose yourself.

Choso's eyes widened in alarm, his mind racing for a solution as he cast furtive glances between you and the entrance. "Shit, hide!" he stated urgently, his voice barely audible amidst the impending footsteps, while he frantically attempted to groom his disheveled appearance.

Grabbing your bag, you hurried towards the nearest door, your mind racing to find a hiding spot with limited options. With no choice, you slipped into a nearby closet near the kitchen entrance, your heart pounding as you closed the door behind you with a barely audible click. In the darkness of the closet, you pressed a hand over your mouth, struggling to steady your breathing as you strained to listen for any indication of Yuji's presence. Outside, you heard the muffled sound of Choso's greeting, his voice strained as he feigned nonchalance.

"Hey, Yuji! Back so soon," Choso remarked, his tone forced and unconvincing.

"Yeah, the game ended early. Thought I'd swing by and relax," Yuji replied, his footsteps drawing closer to the living room where Choso awaited.

Your heart raced even faster at the approach of Yuji's footsteps, dread pooling in the pit of your stomach as you silently prayed that he wouldn't uncover your hiding place. Peering through the slits of the doorway, you watched as your best friend casually dropped onto the couch, tossing his bag aside with a heavy sigh.

Meanwhile, Choso attempted to maintain his composure, engaging Yuji in conversation to divert his attention away from your concealed presence. Yet, beneath his facade, you detected the strain in his voice, a palpable tension mirroring your anxiety.

Choso quickly glanced at your hiding spot before turning his attention to his brother, feeling a bit relieved that he was distracting Yuji. He knew the risk of being involved with you, especially as Yuji's best friend, but he was willing to take that chance. Everything had been going well, and he was determined to keep it that way.

"I thought you were crashing at Megumi’s tonight?" He inquired, trying to coax his brother out of the room and assist your escape.

Yuji glanced away from the TV, his brow furrowing in response. "Didn’t you want me to come back after the game?"

Choso cursed inwardly, realizing his mistake. Indeed, he had instructed Yuji to return home post-game. If only he had known about your arrival beforehand, he would have urged his brother to prolong his absence indefinitely, especially considering the recent developments between you and him moments earlier.

Meanwhile, you attempted to remain utterly still, refraining from making any sudden movements, alarmed even to shift within the confines of the cramped closet. Your gaze remained fixed on the sibling duo, observing Choso's persistent attempts to usher Yuji away.

Yuji scrutinized his older brother, his expression puzzled. "Are you alright?" he asked, noticing Choso's unease.

The older male nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, why?"

"Because you're acting all jittery," Yuji pointed out, his keen observation catching Choso off guard. He waved a dismissive hand, attempting to brush off his brother's concern.

"Nothing's wrong, just thinking about something. Don't worry about it," he replied, hoping to divert his attention elsewhere.

Yuji hummed, though he was not entirely convinced, he opted not to pursue the matter further. Shifting in his seat, he felt an unfamiliar object pressing against his back, retrieving it from beneath the couch cushions. As he held up the item to inspect it, Choso and your hearts plummeted.

A Cherry Flavoured Lip Gloss.

"What's this?" Yuji asked, scrutinizing the lip gloss before turning his gaze towards his brother for an explanation.

Your eyes widened in realization, fumbling through your skirt pockets only to confirm that the lip gloss in question indeed belonged to you. It must have slipped out during the make-out session with Choso on the couch, the intensity of which had him tugging at your clothing.

"Shit…!" You mouthed, worried by the unfolding scene. However, matters only escalated as your previous movements accidentally shifted a broom, causing it to collide with the closet wall with an unmistakable clang.

You stifle a gasp, your heart pounding furiously, as both Choso and Yuji swivel their heads toward the source of the disturbance. One wears a concerned expression, while the other's face contorts with dread, drained of color by the knowing sound.

"What was that?" Yuji questioned, rising from his seat.

As Yuji began to investigate, you held your breath, every passing second feeling endless and dreadful. The closet felt increasingly suffocating, the darkness closing in as you awaited the approaching confrontation. At one point, it felt as though your eyes met Yuji's through the doorway as his hand was inching towards the closet door. You instinctively pushed deeper into the confined space, your stomach churning at the thought of facing your best friend.

"It's mine!"

Choso interjected loudly, blurting out anything to stop his brother's movements.

Yuji turned around, tilting his head curiously. "Huh?"

"The lip gloss, it’s, uh.. mine…" Choso mumbled, his cheeks aflame with embarrassment.

"...Really?" Yuji's skepticism was noticed as he inspected his brother.

Choso nodded curtly, averting his gaze in mortification. "Y-yeah! I’m experimenting with a new look for the upcoming tour."

If only you weren’t in the closet, you might have laughed at Choso's awkwardness. Yuji merely nodded, though there was still some uncertainty. Sensing his brother's weariness, he let it go, thinking Choso's strange behavior was just because he was tired.

He moved away from the closet door, giving you a moment of relief, and gave the lip gloss back to Choso, who quickly put it in his pocket, his cheeks turning slightly pink.

"Well, I won’t judge you for that," The youngest chuckled. "I'm heading upstairs to get some rest. Are you staying down here?"

Choso let out a tired sigh, exhausted by everything that had happened. He shook his head and said, "No, I think I'll go out for a bit. I'll be back soon."

“Alright then. Stay safe, big bro!”

As the pink-haired male climbed the stairs and said goodbye to his brother, he vanished from sight. Finally, the sound of Yuji's fading footsteps brought a wave of relief, and you slumped against the closet wall, letting out a shaky breath.

Outside, Choso quietly exhales, his shoulders slumping in exhaustion. "That was way too close," he murmured, his voice barely audible from where you stood.

You stayed silent, wrestling with the weight of the close call. The realization of the dangerous situation you had narrowly avoided washed over you, along with a surge of guilt. What were you doing, sneaking around with your best friend's brother behind his back? However, amid your self-reproach, you couldn't ignore the inexplicable attraction that had drawn you to Choso, like a moth to a flame. The memory of his lips on yours, his touch sparking a passion within you—it lingered, weaving a spell that defied rationality.

Outside, Choso's voice pierced through your thoughts, breaking the hold of your internal turmoil. "Are you okay?" he asked, his tone soft with concern.

"I'll manage," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "But what now?"

Choso glanced towards the staircase before cautiously opening the closet door. His gaze lingered on your lips, noticing a hint of misplaced lip gloss staining your skin, before returning to meet your eyes.

"I'll take you home," he stated simply, though his conflicted expression betrayed his words. "It's best to avoid any further complications with Yuji around."

You inwardly sighed, acknowledging that he was right, as you swiftly emerged from the closet, hurrying towards the front door with Choso in tow, grabbing his keys.

Disappointment gnawed at you, realizing that your attraction to the dark-haired male had only deepened, though now you were uncertain if you would get another chance to pursue it.

The car sliced through the darkness, tension thickening the air. You stared out the window, watching the lights blur past, lost in your thoughts. Confidence had deserted you when Yuji returned home, leaving you too shy to speak to the man beside you.

Choso's grip on the steering wheel tightened, his jaw clenched with resolve. Annoyance creased his features, stark against his usual carefree demeanor. You couldn’t tell if he was annoyed by the sudden predicament or regretting your earlier interaction.

The silence hung heavy, broken only by the engine's hum and your heart pounding. Each moment dragged on, tension and desire simmering beneath the surface. As the car slowed to a stop outside your apartment complex, you felt his gaze linger on you. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you turned to face him, your gaze lowered.

Then Choso spoke up, his lips twitching slightly. "Cherry lip gloss, huh?"

You looked up at him, perplexed. "What?"

He fished the item from his pocket, handing it to you with a small smirk as your eyes widened. Reaching for it, your fingers brushed against his for a fleeting moment before you pulled back.

"Oh, yeah..." you muttered, examining the product before sighing. You felt a bit deflated from the previous encounter, yet it seemed like Choso knew exactly what you were thinking.

He chuckled softly, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he glanced at the cherry lip gloss in your hand. "Well, I guess we can say that's one way to leave a lasting impression," he quipped, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

You chuckled a bit, nodding in agreement. It struck you how such a small thing had left a memorable impact for both of you, despite the fear you both felt in that moment. You were grateful that Choso took the situation lightly, easing the tension with his playful banter. As a result, you felt your shoulders relax, the weight of the previous tension dissipating.

"I don’t know what to say, but I’m sorry if I caused any problems for you," you said, wanting to make sure he wasn’t upset.

“No need to apologize. You didn’t cause anything, so don’t think like that,” he reassured you. Choso leaned back in his seat, ruffling his hair that was out of his usual style before gracing you with a grin. “Then again, I do believe you owe me one,”

You raised a brow, crossing your arms. “What for?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“Well, I did tell Yuji that it was my lip gloss,” Choso admitted with a smirk, recalling the earlier exchange.

You remembered that but decided to play along. Humming, you shrugged, “I never heard you say that. Are you sure this isn’t exactly yours?” Choso scoffed, seeing through your playful act. “You’re funny. But nope, it's not mine. I ain’t a cherry type of guy.”

“What’s wrong with cherries?” you mused. Despite being home, you didn’t even think about leaving, not wanting the night to end just yet as you continued to engage with the older male.

He shrugged, “Nothing, just not my preference.”

“Well, I think you’re missing out. It's one of the best flavors to use,” you stated, opening the tube to apply a bit on your lips since it was rubbed off earlier. Unbeknownst to you, Choso gazed at your lips as you applied the product before closing it and putting it away.

He hummed, tilting his head before shifting closer. “Really? If you say so, maybe I should try it.”

You were a bit surprised but didn’t question him before pulling the lip gloss from your purse without a thought. “Oh, sure! Just be careful with the– Hmph!”

Choso's sudden movement caught you off guard as he leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin. Before you could react, his lips captured yours in a gentle yet intense kiss, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins.

Time seemed to stand still as you melted into the kiss, the world fading away until there was nothing but the heat of his lips against yours, the soft brush of his fingers against your cheek. The taste of cherry lip gloss lingered on your lips, a sweet contrast to the fiery passion that ignited between you.

In that moment, nothing else mattered except the intoxicating sensation of being lost in each other, the weight of the world lifted as you surrendered to the irresistible pull of desire.

As the kiss deepened, a soft sigh escaped your lips that mingled with Choso's ragged breaths. Every touch, every caress spoke of longing and longing, a silent promise of the passion that simmered just beneath the surface.

The kiss soon turned into a heated session, your hands gripping his hair to pull him closer before moaning in his mouth as his hands slid down your backside to land on your skirt, gripping your ass in the process. Not caring for any peering eyes, you moved across the console to jump into his seat, maneuvering onto his lap as he roughly pulled your body against his own, the kiss barely breaking off. Your body felt too hot in a way that you didn’t want to lose the feeling, continuing to chase each other’s lips with much urgency.

You didn’t expect this to happen at all, especially after the incident with Yuji, as you thought maybe Choso didn’t want this to continue due to the close call. Yet, he proved you wrong, and you were glad he did, especially from the way he made sure to show you.

Pulling back a bit to catch your breath, Choso took the opportunity to glide his lips against your neck, nicking and licking at any surface he could get as you whimpered from the sensation. You could feel his lips tug up against your pulsing neck, knowing he was grinning from the way you reacted to him. Your body shifted, grinding against his lap, feeling that prominent area rising from your movements as Choso let out a low groan.

Your hand left his hair to grip his chin, pulling him away from your neck to capture his plump lips back to yours, humming in contentment from the way he felt against you.

Feeling his hands move past your skirt bottom, you knew what he was implying and were eager to feel it, too lost in the feeling of his touch. Choso pulled back from the kiss, his breath heaving a bit as his eyes were narrowed with a tint of desire swirling in his dark purple eyes. His other hand lightly tapped your waist as he tilted his head, amused from seeing your desperate expression of wanting to be touched.

”You want me to touch you, hm?”

You nodded fiercely, shifting your body lower to obtain some friction to attend where you needed it the most. But Choso wasn’t taking that as an answer.

“Use your words, angel.”

His words sent another wave of electricity through you as you gulped, trying to not melt into a puddle from the way he was looking at you. Swallowing the saliva that collected in your throat, you managed to speak, voice raspy from the heat that pooled in the bottom of your stomach. You tried to grind on him once more, whining as he kept you still by tightening his grip, a chuckle escaping his lips as he tsked.

"All you need to do is say the words and I'll give you whatever you want.” His deep, husky voice sent another jolt through you, the heat growing stronger and making you almost feel lightheaded.

"Choso, I.." Your voice trailed off, feeling a bit too shy and embarrassed at the situation to continue. But he was persistent, continuing to stare at you with an expecting look.

His thumb caressed the corner of your tinted cherry lips, waiting for your answer patiently. "Come on, angel. Don't go quiet on me now."

Gasping out as his other hand softly pushed and rubbed against your core, you bit your lip and allowed your eyes to flutter, needing him so badly.

This was torture.

“Please..” you whined lowly, rubbing your hands up and down his clothed chest.

He hummed. “Please, what?”

”Please touch me, Choso!”

Choso smirked proudly and cupped his hands against you, pushing your underwear to the side as his fingers skillfully spread apart your throbbing and dripping core. Just a single press against your cunt made you twitch and squirm, eager to feel more. He slid his finger up and down for a bit, enjoying the reactions he pulled from you, anticipating to see you come undone by his hands. He placed a finger against your swollen clit, pressing and rubbing against it a bit harsh and fast, causing you to buck into his hand at the sudden sensation.

“Already so wet for me,”

He glanced at you, keeping eye contact as pleasure spread throughout your body. You wanted more, needed more from the older man under you. You let out an airy gasp as he pressed further into your skin, pushing for more friction that made you shiver as you could feel yourself becoming more wet, watching him through your heavy eyelids.

His eyes, God, his eyes.

He never once looked away as he continued to torture you with his touch, not wanting to miss any reaction he received. Choso loved it all and didn’t want it to stop.

"Please, Choso... Stop teasing..."

You grind yourself further onto his hand, an action Choso couldn't ignore, especially the way your arousal coated his fingers. With a small nibble on the tip of your ear and his hand traveling up the front of your body, slipping underneath the shirt you were wearing to tighten his grip, you began to roll your hips along his wrist, silently begging for him to fuck you with his hands.

He eventually caved, curling two of his fingers inside your slit, the stretch adding another dimension of pleasure and turning you into a wailing mess. A drawn-out moan was heard throughout the entire car as you thrashed on top, back arching against the car’s steering wheel and fingers digging into his clothes.

"Look at you. So responsive and beautiful. Just for me."

His deep voice sent another shudder down your spine, your thighs quivering and threatening to close shut around his hand. Your hands moved towards his shoulders, gripping and holding onto them for dear life.

You couldn't speak, couldn't think, couldn't breathe. All that mattered was his fingers stretching out your cunt.

Choso watched in pure lust and hunger, a fire igniting inside him as his hand worked and pumped against your slit. You looked like a goddess with the way you were riding him, the way your lips parted and let out such sweet sounds, the way your chest heaved, the way your eyes were hazed over with pleasure, the way your nails dug into his shoulder, the way your head leaned forward and rested against his chest.

It was an erotic sight. And only he could see you like this.

You felt his thumb circle against your sensitive bud, the pressure sending a shiver of pleasure coursing through your body. It felt so good, and the feeling of his fingers moving inside of you made it even better. You couldn't help but let out a small whimper as his thumb pressed against the nub harder.

"You like that?" His voice was low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine. You couldn't do anything except moan and nod, too overwhelmed with the sensations running through your body. His fingers curled inside of you as your walls clenched around his touch, your breath coming out in ragged gasps.

“More..” You whisper breathlessly, too focused on the feeling to not notice his cunning grin.

“More, huh?”

How could he say no to your pretty demands?

It felt better than you expected as he picked up the pace, adding a third finger, slamming himself into your wet walls and pressing deep and far as his thumb rubbed against your swollen bud, sending your mind spiraling.

“Yes.. yes! Fuck, just like that!” you whimpered, a hand gripping the back of his head while the other slid down his shirt, feeling how toned his chest was and how it felt familiar in your hands.

His fingers continued to pound into you, deep inside your cunt until he curled them upwards, hitting that certain spot that made you moan much louder than before, panting heavily. Opening your eyes, you made eye contact with his heavy-lidded ones that swelled with much yearning from your position. Despite the position, you suddenly became shy from the intense contact before shoving your face into his neck, planting kisses that made him tilt his head for you to get more room as he sighed from the feeling of your lips.

He kept hitting all the right spots that made your toes curl and lips press harder into his irritated skin, letting out a few curses to show how much he affected you deeply with just a touch of his hand.

“S-shit, Choso.. Right there!” You paused the assault on his neck, placing your forehead on his broad shoulders for support, concentrating immensely on the sensation. The only thing keeping you from falling apart was his arm that gripped your waist firmly to hold you up.

The vulgar wet sounds of your cunt were loud, echoing through the car that filled with gasps and moans. The slurping sound of the wetness and the feeling of your velvet walls fueled Choso’s desire to make you cum on his lap. He groaned at the way your pussy swallowed his fingers whole, showing him just how much he affects you with just three fingers, and thought about how different it would be if it was cock inside you right now instead of his hands.

Fuck me. Choso knew the next time he saw you, he certainly wouldn't be only using his hands and especially, won’t be doing it in the car.

You suddenly felt that familiar feeling approaching, causing you to move your hips to align with his movements, chasing that exciting sensation as you moaned out his name.

“I’m so close… I– Ahh, Choso!”

This woman… Just the way you moaned his name got his cock stiffening harder than before, causing him to sweat a bit more from your shameless words that filled the car with your scent and breath. He could feel your walls clenching against his fingers as he continued to pound faster causing you to pull away from his shoulder, knowing you were approaching your climax.

You suddenly felt him release two of his fingers out of you, leaving only one as you whined from the loss of contact till you gasped. He replaced the loss with his fingers circling your clit faster to make you cum, leaving you in a moaning mess from the adrenaline. Eyes closed, you withered against his aggressive but fluttering touch. “Choso..!”

“Look at me…”

Yet, you didn’t hear his words at first, too focused on chasing your high. You felt the pressure building inside of you, something that you've felt once before with the very same man in the car at a different time.

You were close, so close.

"C-Choso.. I'm.."

He knew what you meant, his pace picking up as he pumped his fingers inside of you, his thumb circling your bud in a quicker motion. You were so close, the pressure rising inside you. You felt his other hand grip the back of your head, pushing it forward to his face as he repeated himself.

“Open your eyes for me, pretty.”

His deep tone forced your eyes to peel open, maintaining such passionate eye contact that your body withered from the tension. You knew at that moment that he wanted to keep his eyes on you, to watch you cum messily all over his hands.

And then, with a few more strokes of his fingers and a flick to your sensitive clit, it finally came undone.

The feeling washed over you as your body quivered, not paying attention to anything but the man in front of you that made you feel like you were on cloud nine. You didn’t even notice that your movements buckled you to hit the horn on the wheel behind you for a second, too lost in your overstimulating pleasure.

“That’s it, cum for me.”

You let out a loud moan as your walls clenched around his fingers, waves of pleasure crashing over you as you rode out your orgasm. Choso continued pumping his fingers inside of you, his thumb still circling your bud. You could feel your juices coating his fingers as they continued to work inside of you.

As you calmed down from the high, your chest heaved with small breaths as your tired eyes laid heavily against Choso's intense and dark purple orbs, the gaze making you shudder a bit.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful."

Choso's lips roughly found yours as his fingers slipped out, a groan of protest leaving you from the empty feeling. But his lips distracted you as he placed a hand on the side of your cheek, tilting your head back as his tongue found its way inside. The feeling of his tongue exploring and swirling against your own had you weak, knees buckling and nearly falling back if it wasn't for Choso's arm that caught you.

As you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed with desire, you found yourself gazing back into Choso's eyes that reflected the same hunger and lust that burned within your heart. For a moment, you simply sat there, lost in the aftermath of the kiss, the world around you fading into insignificance as you revel in the intoxicating rush of emotions that pulsed through your veins.

Your thoughts paused, breath hitched as you watched Choso bring the very same fingers that were just inside of you to place on his wetted lips. Sucking on each one individually to get a taste of you, he hummed in delight before pulling them out, licking his lips.

Choso leaned back in his seat with a satisfied smirk. "Well, I guess that settles it," he utters, wiping the smudge gloss from your lips.

"Cherries aren't so bad after all."

⇽ chapter nine | chapter eleven ⇾

© 𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢𝐥𝐮𝐯 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

[dianawinchester03]

Season 3, Episode 8 - A Very Supernatural Christmas (Part Two)

Series Masterlist

Author’s Note: PART TWO!!! In order to understand, you’ll need to read part one, which is linked HERE.

Happy Reading Beauties!🫶

_______________________________________________

Broken Bow, Nebraska

•Christmas Eve Night, 1991

Eight-year-old Sam was on the couch in their motel reading a comic book while Y/N leaned back lazily next to him, flipping through channels on the tiny old TV. She went out looking for Dean after he stormed off but came up empty, the little girl worried sick for her friend. Finally, twelve-year-old Dean shoved the door open to the room after hours. a brown bag of groceries in one hand.

Y/N and Sam instantly looked up, the two perking up at seeing him enter. “Dean!” Y/N called out, practically leaping off her spot on the couch towards the older boy. Sam stayed on the couch, setting his comic down on the coffee table. “Thought you went out” He said calmly. Dean smiled sadly at his little brother, feeling guilty when he saw the worried look on y/n/n’s face. “Yeah, to get you two dinner.” Dean remarked, tossing a packaged food to Sam before handing Y/N one with a package of chocolate chip cookies.

She looked down at the package of cookies in her hands, immediately looking back up to offer a small smile to Dean. “Thanks” Y/N thanked him quietly, it didn’t subside her concern but she was just happy to see he was alright. Dean smiled down at her, ruffling her head before reaching into the bag. “Don’t forget your vegetables” Dean tossed a bag of Funyuns to Sam.

Sam scoffed, catching the bag as Dean padded over to his bed. He placed the bag into it before peeling off his brown jacket. Sam and Y/N shared nervous looks, communicating with their eyes.

‘You ask him,’ Sam urged her in Winchesterian.

‘Hell no, he’s YOUR brother. You ask him’ Y/N shook her head rapidly, her eyes speaking for her.

‘He’ll listen to you before me,’ Sam told her through facial expression. Y/N sighed deeply.

‘Fine!’ Y/N huffed before clearing her throat.

She gestured for Sam to follow her to their bed, the boy did just that, following to suit. They sat side by side as Dean reached into the bag to retrieve a canned soda. He cracked it open as the duo stared at him expectantly, “We know why you keep a gun under your pillow.” Y/N began. Dean froze, his face going blank before feigning ignorance. “What?“ He asked in a forced tone despite knowing exactly where this conversation was going.

Sam raised a brow at his brother before moving over to lift it, revealing the pistol tucked under. Dean’s face fell further, he watched his brother with a nervous gaze before forcefully hardening his eyes. “No, you don’t. Stay out of my stuff.” He grunted, glaring at the two children. Y/N sat silently, her hands fiddling with each other as she bit the inside of her cheek.

“And we know why we lay salt down everywhere we go.” Sam said confidently. This was Dean’s worst nightmare, Sam and Y/N finding out about monsters. The last thing he wanted to do was screw up their childhood more than it already was, “No, you don’t. Shut up.” Dean demanded, Y/N narrowed her eyes at him before turning around to grab something from under their bed. It was John Winchester’s diary. She handed it to Sam, who accepted it before tossing it onto the nightstand between the beds.

The duo looked at the elder Winchester with hard gazes as he shot up from the bed, “Where’d you get that? That’s Dad’s! They’re gonna kick your asses for reading that!” Sam and Y/N were unfazed by his words, keeping their hardened gaze on him. “Wouldn’t be the first time” Y/N spoke up, crossing her arms over her chest as she spoke firmly.

Dean’s face fell, he hated just how accurate her words were. Sam nodded in agreement, “Are monsters real?” The younger Winchester demanded. “What? You’re crazy.” Dean scoffed, denying their accusations. “Stop lying, Dean.” Y/N piped up, her tone firm. She stood up, taking his hands into her. “Tell us, please” She pleaded, working up the best puppy dog eyes she could. “Please,” Sam pleaded, mimicking Y/N’s expression.

Dean gulped, his resolve on hiding the truth starting to crumble as the kids stared at him with their pleading gazes. He looked away hesitantly before turning back to his brother, his heart aching. It was until he made eye contact with Y/N, he melted at the way her big (e/c) eyes watered. He sighed, “I swear, if you guys ever tell Dad or Uncle F/N I told you any of this, I will end you.” He threatened.

“Promise.” Sam nodded, being honest as Y/N did the same, lifting her pinky. He looked down at her tiny raised pinky with a defeated sigh. “Fine” He muttered before linking his pinky with hers. He took a deep breath, rubbing the back of his neck “Damnit... Okay,” He huffed, running a hand through his sandy-blonde hair. He glanced back over to his fathers journal, taking a seat on his bed.

Y/N moved to sit next to him, their thighs touching as she and Sam looked at him expectantly. “Well, the first thing y’all have to know is we have the coolest dads in the world. They’re superheroes” Dean began softly, they looked confused, their heads tilting. “They are?” The duo asked in unison, “Yeah.” Dean nodded, biting his lip nervously before revealing, “Monsters are real. They fight them. They’re fighting them right now.”

Sam’s whole world was falling apart while Y/N’s head dropped, she never wanted to believe it. She prayed it wasn’t true, “But Dad said the monsters under my bed weren’t real.” Sam’s voice broke, Dean frowned as Y/N shook her head, biting her lip. “….that’s’cause he had already checked under there.” He explained, Sam’s hazel eyes watered, forcefully looking away from his brother. “But yeah, they’re real. Almost everything’s real.”

“Is Santa real?” Y/N asked hopefully, looking back up at Dean. “Is he?” Sam added just as hopeful. Dean sighed with a soft smile, shaking his head. “No” Their faces fell once more, breaking Dean’s heart further. The duo paused before looking at each other, “If monsters are real, then they could get us. They could get me and y/n/n.” Sam said worried, “Dad and F/N are not gonna let them get you guys” Dean assured them, “But what if they get them?” Y/N’s little voice cracked, her heart aching at the thought of losing her daddy.

Dean instinctively wrapped his arm around her, bringing her close to his side. “They’re not gonna get them, y/n/n” He told her softly, resting his chin on her head. Sam watched from across the bed, noticing how she melted into the touch. “They’re like…the best,” He said confidently. “We read in Dad’s book that they got Mom and Mrs. L/N. It said that they were ‘hunters’ or whatever that means too. And Mrs. L/N was a psychic, yet they still got to ‘em” Sam argued.

Dean winced as the words hit him as Sam mentioned their mother and Y/N’s mother. Y/N buried her face into his side, his chest rising and falling slowly as he exhaled deeply. He pulled her closer, rubbing comforting circles on her back as he thought of his response. “It’s complicated, Sam.” He spoke softly. Sam shook his head and got up, pacing in front of them.

“If they got Mom and Mrs L/N, they can get Dad and Uncle F/N ,and if they get them, they can get us.” Sam’s voice cracked as he panicked, Dean’s eyes softened with guilt as his brother freaked out. Y/N peeled her head out of Dean’s chest and snatched Sam by his hand. Pulling the younger Winchester down to sit by her side. “Sam, calm down.” Y/N pleaded softly, gripping onto his little hand tightly.

She looked back to Dean with panic-stricken eyes, unsure of how to help the now upset boy. Dean bit on his bottom lip, watching his little brother have a full-blown existential crisis. “Sammy, it's not like that.” Dean pleaded, “Okay? Dad’s fine. Uncle F/N is fine. We’re fine. Trust me. They’re not gonna let anything happen to you and I won’t either.” He assured him.

Sam looked away, his nostrils flaring. Y/N realized what was happening and so did Dean. So she pulled away from Dean and placed a hand on Sam’s back, “You okay?” Dean asked his brother softly. Sam nodded, looking further away, “Yeah” He whispered, blinking away his tears. Dean frowned at his brother's tone. He could tell that Sam was lying but bit his tongue to stop himself from saying anything.

"Hey, they’re gonna be here for Christmas. Just like they always are.” But that was a full blown lie. Y/N’s gaze shot over to Dean, aiming a hard look in his direction for lying. “I just want to go to sleep, okay?” Sam said as he held back his tears, looking up at the ceiling with his lips tucked into his mouth. Dean looked between his younger brother and friend, sighing and nodding before standing up and turning off the light.

He watched as Y/N helped Sam over to the bed and pulled the cover up over Sam's thin frame, patting his back gently with a sad expression. "It’ll all be better when you wake up……you’ll see. Promise" He whispered, his voice hoarse with guilt. Dean excused himself from the room, leaving Y/N and Sam to console each other. Sam however, did most of the crying while Y/N held her end together.

Now, Dean reentered the room, wiping away his last tear and took a seat on his bed, pulling the covers over himself lazily before looking over at Y/N sitting on the edge of the other bed. She had her back towards him and her head low, her shoulders shaking. He raised a brow before clearing his throat and spoke softly, "...You good princess?" He asked. Y/N nodded, wiping her nose.

She turned to face him, her eyes watering as she forced a smile, “I’m fine.” She answered with a shaky voice. Dean's heart clenched as he saw through her facade, he knew she was struggling to keep it together, "You're a terrible liar," He told her bluntly, "C'mere." He added, holding his hand out to her. Y/N glanced down at a now-fully-asleep Sam before hesitantly nodding,

She rose to her feet and shuffled over to Dean. She accepted in hand as he lifted his covers. She settled next to him as he pulled her into his . "You can cry, you know?" He murmured quietly as she settled into the position, tucking her head under his chin. Y/N took a shaky breath, melting into his arms once more, her body betraying her as it began to tremble.

“I’m trying not to," She whispered, clutching the fabric of his shirt tightly, "I don’t want Sam to hear me." She croaked, that wasn’t the case, she didn’t want Dean to see her cry. Yet, here he was, comforting her. Dean scoffed, “Your little boyfriend was just bawling like a baby, I’m pretty sure he won’t judge you" He reassured her, Y/N rolled her eyes at the accusation. Attempting to pull away but he quickly held her back, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding, jeez. Lighten up” He chuckled.

“I've got you," He comforted, his other hand moving to gently brush a loose strand of hair from her face. Her heart fluttered at the pet-name, as it always did when he used it. She allowed herself to take a few deep breaths, enjoying the feeling of his hand gently combing through her hair. “Y’know, I get it now” She sighed, adjusting her head on his chest. Dean raised a brow, pausing.

“You get what now?" He inquired, his hand continuing its gentle ministrations in her hair. “Why Daddy always tells me ‘You’ll understand one day, baby. You’ll be gifted’ and why he always makes me read those weird books” She pointed out, “He thinks I’ll be psychic like my mom” Dean's expression softened, he let out a soft hum of acknowledgement. He knew that Y/N's father had been preparing her for a life that he’s pretty sure she wouldn’t want to lead.

"Well you already are pretty gifted," He finally added, “Gifted in busting my balls and giving me a headache” He quipped, earning a smack to the chest from her. “Shut up. I'm trying to be serious here" She spoke in a scolding but amused tone, swatting him once more, to which he playfully retaliated by poking her stomach. She giggled before her expression slowly fell serious once more, “What if I’m not like my mom, Dean?” She whispered, her eyes watering again.

“It doesn’t matter, y/n/n” He spoke softly, “If you’re like your mom or not” He continued, bringing his hand back up to brush a stray tear from her cheek. “Your dad just wants to push you in the right direction.” He explained, "You’re smart, you’re strong—” He began to assure her. “Do y’think he’ll hate me? Y’think he’ll be disappointed if I’m not like her?”

Dean shook his head confidently, “No way in hell.” He said firmly, tilting her chin up to look into her watering eyes, “He loves you and he’ll always protect you. Because you’re his little girl. You’re gifted with or without it, beautiful….” He paused, taking a moment to think. “A pain in my ass all the time,” He added, his tone slightly lighter.

Y/N could feel herself blushing as he spoke, not able to deny her crush on Dean any further until he called her a pain in the ass. To which, she smacked his chest again. “Ow!” Dean protested, rubbing the area playfully. “Damn dude, you’re violent.”

-

•December 22nd, 2007 - Present Time

Sam and Jo went back to their own motel room, leaving Dean and Y/N in theirs. The couple were both cuddled under their blanket, their naked frames tangled into one another. Dean’s head rested on Y/N’s chest, one hand cupping her boob and the other gripping his gun under his pillow. Neither were asleep yet, both unable to fall asleep without clothes on due to their training from a young age to always be prepared for the worst.

Y/N played with Dean’s hair, her fingers running through the nape of his neck as she finally broke out of her thoughts where she was reminiscing on their childhood. "Dean" She whispered, her breath fanning across his bare back. Dean hummed in acknowledgment but failed to say anything in response. "Dean," She repeated, "I know you're awake."

"I'm actually asleep and sleep-talking right now," Dean replied sarcastically, not even bothering to lift his head from its resting spot between the valley of her breasts. Y/N rolled her eyes, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. “I’m sorry” She apologized, sighing a bit. "For what?" He asked softly, tilting his head up to look at her, his chin pressed against her chest. Her free hand made its way to the side of his face.

“For not wanting to celebrate Christmas. I know it’s selfish, but I’m with Sam on this one” She admitted. “I can’t do it” Her tone faltered as she felt tears well up in her eyes once more. Dean immediately lifted his head, gently sitting up on his arm and hovering over her. He moved to gently cup her face in his hands, his thumbs rubbing under her eyes to rid the tears from staining her face. "It's not selfish," He whispered softly.

“I know how you are….and I know that when I’m gone, it’ll hurt remembering…but I’m here now. And if you want to just stay in and watch crappy old cowboy movies on Christmas, I’m down for that” Y/N managed a small, tearful smile, "You just love those cowboy movies" She pointed out, earning a chuckle from him. He leaned down and pressed a sweet kiss to her forehead, "I prefer the ones where the dude rides off with the girl” He murmured, his lips brushing her skin.

"Aww, you've gone all soft for me, Winchester" She teased playfully, her hands finding their way to his bare, toned back. He rolled his eyes at her comment, leaning down again to press a trail of open-mouthed hit kisses from her jaw down to her neck. “Are you just trying to distract me with sex?” She raised a brow as she craned her neck.

"Mmm" He hummed in confirmation, lightly nipping at her skin, earning a gasp from her. "Is it working?" He murmured against her collarbone. She lightly smacked his chest with a playful scoff. “Ow!” Dean protested, rubbing the area. “Dammit woman, you’re violent.”

-

•December 23rd 2007

The next morning, Sam and Dean took over. Leaving their girls in their motel rooms to sleep, now hopping out of the Impala and walking up to a big white house with Christmas decorations on the lawn. “This is where Mrs. Wreath lives, huh? Can’t you just feel the evil pagan vibe?” Dean commented sarcastically, a blank look on his face as he brushed past his brother. Sam rolled his eyes, ignoring Dean as they both made it up the porch.

Dean brought his knuckles up and knocked on the door. A middle aged woman with a bright smile across her face greeted them, “Yes?” The brothers matched her vibe with their own bright smiles, “Please tell me you’re the Madge Carrigan who makes the meadowsweet wreaths.” Dean chimed spritely, “Why, yes I am.” Madge confirmed cheerfully, “Ha! Bingo” Dean cheered, turning to Sam with a smile.

“Yeah? Uh, well, we were just admiring your wreaths in Mr. Sylar’s place the other day?” Sam chimed in as Dean peered his head slightly to get a look of the place inside. The entire house was decorated to the T. Dean felt a sense of envy as he scanned the place, wishing it could be him and his family with one of Y/N’s safehouse decorated so nicely. Madge beamed at the compliment, "You were? Well, isn't that meadowsweet just the finest-smelling thing you ever smelled?"

“It is, it sure is. But the problem is, is that all you wreaths had sold out before we got the chance to buy one.” Sam explained and Madge’s face dropped, “Oh, fudge!” She exclaimed in a high pitch tone. “You wouldn’t have another one that we could buy from you, would you?” Dean asked. Madge sighed heavily, "Oh, no, I’m afraid those were the only ones I had for this season.” She informed them, “Awwww..” Sam fake frowned.

“Tell me something, why did you decide to make them out of meadowsweet?” Dean asked curiously as Mr. Cardigan descended down the staircase inside the house. He had an old-fashioned pipe tucked between his lips and a cardigan. The two of them together seemed very….1950s. “Why, the smell, of course! I don’t think I’ve ever smelled anything finer.” Madge answered with a wide smile. “Yeah… um, you mentioned that.” Sam cleared his throat.

“What's going on, honey?” Mr. Cardigan asked, taking out his pipe from his mouth. “Well, just some nice boys asking about my wreaths, dear.” Madge beamed, “Oh, the wreaths are fine. Fine wreaths. Oh, care for some peanut brittle?” He offered, holding out a small red metal canister with peanut brittle. This sent out all the red flags in Sam’s head, matching the profile of the pagan God while Dean’s face lit up at the peanut brittle.

Sam eyed the tin with suspicion but Dean being Dean, already had his hand up to take a piece. He quickly pulled Dean’s hand back, smacking it in the process. Dean looked like a kicked puppy, "We’re okay.” Sam politely turned down the offer, keeping a hard gaze on Mr. Cardigan.

-

Later that night, Dean and Y/N were sharpening wooden stakes, while Sam used the laptop and Jo sat next to reading a book. Five other wooden stakes were on the bed and floor near Dean and Y/N. “I knew it! Something was way off with those two.” Sam suddenly exclaimed, clapping his hands before pointing to the computer.

“What’d you find, babe?” Jo asked, peering next to Sam to get a look at the computer while Dean and Y/N’s head perked up from their spots on the opposite end of the room. “The Carrigans lived in Seattle, last year, where two abductions took place right around Christmas. They moved here in January.” Sam explained with a twinge of ‘I told you so’ in his tone, directed to Dean. “All that Christmas shit in their house, that wasn’t boughs of holly. It was vervain and mint.” He added with a scoff.

“Pagan stuff?” Dean asked, “Oh, serious pagan stuff” Y/N confirmed with a dry chuckle as she whittled away the wooden stake. “So what, Ozzie and Harriet are keeping a pagan god hidden underneath their plastic-covered couch?” Dean raised a brow. “I don’t know. All I know is we gotta check them out.” Sam sighed, “So, what about Bobby? He’s sure evergreen stakes will kill this thing, right?” Jo chimed in.

Dean nodded, raising the stake to look at it. “Yeah, he’s sure.” Y/N glanced over at him, “You fellas sure you don’t want us to come?” She asked. "Nah, it’ll be a quick in and out." Dean assured her, "Just try to get some sleep, okay?" He added, giving her a reassuring smile and a pat on the knee. Y/N sighed, "Alright, I’ll try” She sighed, handing him her finished stake.

"That’s my girl." Dean smirked, taking the stake from her. Y/N rolled her eyes lightheartedly, “Do I look like a dog? Next thing I know, you’re gonna be putting a collar around my neck and dragging me to the park” She quipped. "Don’t tempt me" Dean retorted with a sly smirk and a wink to go with it. Y/N scoffed, shoving his shoulder playfully, "In your freaky ass dreams, Winchester,"

Meanwhile, Sam and Jo let out exaggerated gags making vomiting sounds. The couple flipped them both their middle fingers in return.

-

After the boys left, Jo ended up bunking with Y/N since the psychic said she didn’t feel too well, her migraines were nagging at her as usual. However, it was more prominent. Like how it used to be when she got visions. As the night went on, the tension in Y/N's head grew. She found it difficult to sleep no matter how hard she tried to calm herself down.

Jo was fast asleep next to her as Y/N tossed and turned. The pain in her head was getting worse and worse, and she could feel her anxiety bubbling up inside of her chest. She gave up and went over to the bathroom, turning on the pipe and cupping her hand to retrieve some water. When splashed the water onto her face, Y/N suddenly felt a wave of nausea come over her. She gripped the edge of the sink tightly to support herself, feeling her legs tremble beneath her.

Blood began dripping from her nose, with a shaky hand, she brought it up to dab away some of the blood with her middle finger. A look of shock on her face. The splitting migraine overcame her as her knees buckled and a loud cry escaped her lips when her eyes flashed over white. The vision finally revealed itself.

Sam and Dean were walking through the neatly decorated Carrigan Residence, each other a wooden stake. Dean glanced over at a couch that was covered in plastic and whispered to his brother, “See? Plastic.”

Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes as he touched it and Dean shook his head like a disapproving father. The boys peered around the house as ‘O Come All Ye Faithful’ softly on the stereo.

Dean padded into the living room and looked at all the Christmas decor, while Sam went to the hall, which was also decorated with ornaments and snow globes.

Sam ended up in the kitchen and stumbled upon plates of cookies and cakes. He shone his flashlight on the lock of a door, represuming it was a basement. “Hey, Dean” He called out for his brother

Dean picked the lock and walked downstairs to the basement. Human bones were scattered across the ground and the stair railing had blood all over it.

Dean pointed his flashlight and found bones covered with blood in a large bowl. They check the room and realize the whole basement looked like a butchery room rather than a storage room.

This was disgusting on many levels, even for them. Sam found a leather bag covered with blood. He looked absolutely disgusted as he leaned down to get a look at a meat grinding machine. The station was bloody and the smell of rotting human flesh filled his nostrils.

He grimaced and moved to another spot. Only to stumble on a bag that was hanging from the wall, he sighed with furrowed brows. Curiously approaching the bag. He approached it, poking it lightly and suddenly it moved. The sound of a man inside struggling and grunting.

Sam jumped out of his skin horrified. He couldn’t even do anything to help because Madge grabbed his neck from behind and lifted him off the ground as he yelled and grunted in surprise.

Dean’s head snapped in his brother’s direction when he heard his cry out, “Sam!!” He rushed over, attempting to stake Madge who had his little brother against a wall, still holding him by the throat.

But Edward Carrigan grabbed his arm off guard and knocked his head against a wall. Sam watched with horror as Dean fell to the ground, unconscious. Madge looked at her husband over her shoulder, who smiled and nodded before looking back at Sam, who was struggling to breathe.

“Gosh, I wish you boys hadn’t come down here” Madge chimed in a faux-sympathetic tone. Sam moved his flashlight unconsciously to the Carrigans’ faces, which appear monster-like when in the beam of the flashlight but turn back to normal out of the light.

Horror crossed the younger Winchester’s face as Madge reeled him forward and slammed his head hard against the wall before letting him drop to the ground.

The psychic finally came to and opened her eyes with a loud gasp to find herself in a panicked Jo’s arms. “Those motherfuckers” Was the first thing she grunted weakly, bleeding profusely from both her nostrils, her ass pressed to the cold tiled bathroom floor. She was trembling, her breaths short and panicked.

Jo placed her hand against her hot forehead, "Oh my god Y/N?! Thank god” She breathed out in relief. “You were out for a while. C’mon, let’s get you up” She said gently, hauling Y/N up to her feet after wrapping her arm around her shoulder. She tried to placed her on the bed but Y/N shook her head furiously. “What happened? What did you see?" Jo asked alarmed, still holding her in a tight grip, not wanting to let go yet.

Y/N blinked a few times, attempting to catch her breath and steady herself. The vision took a lot out of her, “Boys” She managed to breathe out softly, “They’re in trouble”

-

In present time in the Carrigan Residence, a number of bowls and a knife are set out on the kitchen table. Sam and Dean were tied up in chairs, back to back. “Dean? You okay?” Sam asked his brother behind him when he heard him finally regaining his consciousness. “Yeah, I think so.” Dean grunted, “So, I guess we’re dealing with Mr. and Mrs. God.” Sam commented as Dean nodded, “Nice to know.” Sam added dryly. “Yeah,” Dean sighed.

Dean scoffed in defeat, shaking his head. “Not gonna lie, I really wish we brought our girls with us” Sam sighed in agreement, “Yeah, me too” His mind started to wander for a short moment, "Why'd we have to be so stubborn?" Suddenly, The Carrigans’ entered the kitchen, dressed in colorful Christmas-themed sweaters, all smiles and cheerfulness, making a dramatic entrance.

Dean and Sam rolled their eyes in unison. “Ooh, and here we thought you two lazybones were gonna sleep straight through all the fun stuff.” Madge chimed before giggling. “And miss all this? Nah, we’re partiers.” Dean retorted in a gruff sarcastic tone. “Isn’t he a kick in the pants, honey? You’re hunters, is what you are.” Edward called them out as Sam glanced up at the monster with a hard glare.

“And you’re pagan gods. So, why don't we just call it even, and go our separate ways?” Dean tried to reason with a fake charming smile as Edward made his way around the chairs, smoking his pipe. “What, so you can bring more hunters and kill us?” He laughed, “I don’t think so.” Sam gritted his teeth before saying in a nasty tone, “Maybe you should have thought about that before you went snacking on humans, now, huh?”

“Oh now, don’t get all wet.” Edward chuckled arrogantly. “Oh, why, we used to take over a hundred tributes a year and that’s a fact” Madge chimed as she hobbled over to retrieve a napkin, placing it on Dean’s lap. “And that’s a fact” Dean flinched as she touched his thigh, “Now what do we take? What, two? Three?” She added as she placed a napkin on Sam’s lap.

“Hardy Boys here make five.” Edward confirmed with a smile, Madge’s face lit up in the process. “Now, that’s not so bad, is it?” Sam rolled his eyes as Dean quipped, “Well, you say it like that, I guess you guys are the Cunninghams.” Madge’s mouth fell open at Dean’s jab, “You, mister, better show us a little respect.” Edward pointed firmly at him, to which Dean grinned widely at. “Or what? You’ll eat us?” Sam challenged them with cold sass through squinted eyes as he and his brother both glared at Edward.

“Not so fast. There’s rituals to be followed first.” Mr. Carrigan smiled at his wife. “Oh, we’re just sticklers for ritual.” Mrs. Carrigan giggled as she leaned down towards Sam, the younger Winchester grimaced at her tone. “And you know what kicks off the whole shebang?” Edward smirked as Madge smiled menacingly. “Let me guess…meadowsweet.” Dean said knowingly, gritting his teeth.

“Oh shucks, you’re all out of wreaths. I guess we’ll just have to cancel the sacrifice, huh?” Dean chuckled, his face falling when Madge pulled out two fresh half-wreaths from below the table. “Oh, don’t be such a gloomy Gus.” She chided as she put the wreaths around two unwillingly Sam and Dean, both shaking with anger. “There. Ohh… Don’t they just look darling?” She said excitedly, “Good enough to eat.” Edward smacked his lips, “All righty-roo. Step number two.” He whipped out a shining silver knife.

The boys watched with fearful eyes as they paced towards them slowly.

-

The Harley came to an abrupt stop in front of the Carrigan Residence, with Y/N and Jo quickly peeling off their helmet. “What’s the plan?” Jo asked in a hushed tone as Y/N opened up her glove compartment. “The monsters like sweets, so go to their door and offer them this..” She handed Jo a fruitcake, “How long has that been in there?” Jo’s brows furrowed, “I dunno, couple days?” The psychic shrugged, “Now we don’t have any stakes so hopefully, Sam and Dean still have theirs.”

Jo scoffed, eyeing the fruitcake in her hands. “You really think that’s gonna work?” She questioned skeptically. Y/N nodded with certainty, as she pulled out her lock pick. “If you do things as I say, I think we’ll be good” She reassured, “And what are you gonna do?” Jo asked as they approached the porch, “Sneak in through the back, your distraction should give us enough time to—”

Her words got caught in her throat when she heard the putrid sounds of Sam screaming, “D-Don’t..NO!! AHH!!” Along with the sound of flesh slicing and Dean screaming, “LEAVE HIM ALONE YOU SON OF A BITCH!!” Y/N’s heart raced in panic. “Dean” She whispered under her breath. “Now they’re torturing them?!” Jo looked at her with terror in her eyes, the sound of her family being tortured made fire build up inside of her.

Y/N’s hands curled into fists, “Oh hell no” She growled, her usual kind demeanor turning into a deadly anger. “Do as I said. That’s an order.” She firmly instructed Jo who nodded obediently, doing as she was told. Y/N didn’t hesitate to rush to the back door.

-

Inside, “Hear how they talk to us? Heh heh. To Gods?” Edward scoffed with distaste as Madge took a knife and a bowl. “Listen, pal, back in the day, we were worshiped by millions.” He told the two, Sam shook wiyh pain, gritting his teeth. “Time have changed!” Dean shouted. “Tell me about it. All of a sudden, this Jesus character is the hot new thing in town. All of a sudden, our, our altars are being burned down, and we’re being hunted down like common monsters.” Edward rambled on

“But did we say a peep? Oh ho ho, no, no, no, we did not.” Madge chimed as her husband added something to Sam’s blood in the bowl. “Two millennia.” Madge placed up two fingers as Mr. Carrigan picked up a tool. “We kept a low profile; we got jobs, a mortgage. Wh-What was that word, dear?” She asked her husband. “We assimilated.” Edward corrected as he popped a piece of popcorn into his mouth.

Madge nodded, “Yeah, we assimilated. Why, we play bridge on Tuesday and Fridays. We’re just like everybody else.” She smiled as she picked up a shiny silver knife. “You’re not blending in as smooth as you think, lady!” Dean grunted. Madge shrugged, moving closer to him with her knife and a bowl, “This might pinch a bit, dear.” She warned him before slicing his arm just like Edward did to Sam.

“You bitch!” Dean yelled in pain, eyes shooting a deadly glare at Madge. He was fuming with anger and wanted nothing but to wrap his hands around her neck and squeeze the life out of her. He heard Sam panting through clenched teeth as he grunted, “Oh, my goodness me! Somebody owes a nickel to the swear jar.” Madge chastised Dean as though he was a child,

“Oh, do you know what I say when I feel like swearing?” Dean looked Madge in the eyes, panting heavily as she gestured with her sharp knife in cheesy emphasis, “Fudge” Dean’s brows furrowed, “I’ll try and remember that!” He shot back sarcastically. Edward chuckled as he picked up a pair of pliers, “You boys have no idea how lucky you are. There was a time when kids came from miles around, just to be sitting where you are.” He beamed as he stepped in front of Sam with the pliers and a menacing smirk on his lips.

Sam’s eyes widened, his body rigid at the sight of the pliers. “What do you think you’re doing with those?” He asked, his voice gruff and strained as he fought the panic soaring through his body. He watched as Edward chuckled and his brother shouted, “You fudging touch me again and I’ll fudging kill you!” Dean threatened the older woman, “Very good!” Madge praised the elder Winchester before slicing through his other hand and collecting his blood in the bowl.

Edward forcefully opened Sam’s clenched fists, “No. No. Don’t!!” He tried to fight the monster off, but he was too strong for him. Edward smirked as he peeled Sam’s index fingernail off of his finger. “Ahh!!” Sam screamed out in pain as his eyes shut tightly, his face creased. “Oh, we got a winner!” Edward exclaimed, holding up Sam's mail before he and his wife began mixing up the ingredients into their bowl.

“Merry Christmas, Sam.” Dean grunted, looking over his shoulder. Sam groaned in response, feeling the air hit his freshly peeled finger.

“What else, dear?” Madge asked Edward, “Well, let’s see. Uh, fingernail, blood. Oh… “ He hit his head jokingly, “sweet Peter on a popsicle stick. I forgot the tooth.” He laughed, picking up the pliers once more. “Oh, dear!” Madge giggled. Sam’s eyes shot open, “Tooth? No! Stay away from me!!” He yelled, thrashing against his restraints.

Instead, Edward made his way around to Dean. Grabbing him by his chin. “Open wide… and say, “Aaah.”” He smirked. “Ugh, don’t…no! God Damnit!!” Dean grunted through clenched teeth, pulling his head away. Just as Edward finally got the pliers into Dean’s mouth, the doorbell rang. The monstrous couple paused, looking at each other. “Somebody gonna get that?” Dean asked with a mouthful of pliers. Sam looked relieved as the doorbell rang again. “You should get that.” Dean insisted, the pliers still in his mouth.

Edward sighed, putting down the pliers and taking off his apron as Madge rolled her eyes at him. "Now who could that be?” Madge mumbled, making her way towards the door with her husband. The Carrigan’s opened their front door to reveal Jo with a fake bright smile on her face and the fruitcake in her hand, “Merry Christmas!” She cheered.

“I told you I smelled fruitcake!” Edward forced a cheerful smile and chuckled, “Who are you?” He asked, eyeing the fruitcake with raised brows. “Oh, just a Santa’s helper of getting Christmas cheer from the neighborhood” She handed it to Madge. “You live nearby?” Mr. Carrigan questioned with a suspicious eye.

“Uh… down that way.” She pointed behind her, “Thought we’d, you know…extend the peace and goodwill.”

-

Meanwhile inside, just as the Carrigan’s made their way to the door, Y/N emerged through the backdoor. Making her way straight to the kitchen where the boy were tied up. They were both sweaty, panting and struggling against their binds. “Oh thank god” Y/N whispered relieved as she knelt infront of Dean. Both of them snapped their heads in her direction.

“Y/N!?” They lowly exclaimed as she flicked open her butterfly knife and cut them both out of their binds. Once they were freed from their bounds, Dean and Sam rubbed their swollen wrists before running to Y/N, engulfing her into a much needed hug. “I’ve never been happier to see you” Dean huffed against her hair, wrapping her tightly.

“Yeah, yeah, love you both. Y’all can hug and kiss me and Jo after we kill these sons of bitches” Pushing the two oafs off. The brothers nodded their heads. Their ears perked up when they heard the Carrigan’s close their front door. Y/N felt her phone vibrate in her pocket, indicating Jo had done her part. Dean and Y/N took one door that led to the living room while Sam took the other. They slammed the door shut on Madge and Edward once they entered the kitchen.

The monsters attempted to break the doors down but Dean pulled out a drawer on his side with Y/N while Sam hauled a large wooden cabinet in front of the door. Y/N was first to the front door, opening it for Jo. She dashed inside and bolted the door behind her. “Thank God you’re both—“ her words were cut off when the door to the living room started violently shaking. The monsters were trying their best to break through the door.

“What the hell are we gonna do with them now that they’re trapped?!” Jo exclaimed, her breathing shaky as she eyed the door in horror. “The evergreen stakes are in the basement!” Dean shouted back, “We need more evergreen, Dean!” Sam informed them, his eyes going over to the Christmas tree. “I think I just found us some more.” Without even needing to say a word, the two women and Dean nodded and raced towards the Christmas tree with Sam.

The Carrigan’s started banging against the door, threatening to break free from the wooden barrier. From the way the four grabbed the Christmas tree, you’d think they were a pair of couples just decorating a tree for the holidays and not killing a few flesh eating monsters. They toppled the tree over and using their bare hands, ripped a branch of evergreen each.

They rushed over to the door, which had suddenly stopped banging. Then out of nowhere, Edward tried to attack Y/N but Dean saw him at the corner of his eye and pushed his girlfriend out of harm's way, taking the spear into the hard floor while Madge walked up to Sam and Jo. “You little things” Her face momentarily distorted, “I loved that tree.” She growled before aiming to punch Jo but Sam pushed her out of the way.

Y/N and Jo scrambled for their pieces of evergreen, raising it high above their heads simultaneously as the monsters pounded away at the boyfriends before driving it into their backs. “MADGE!” “EDWARD!” The monstrous couple cried out of each other. They let out animalistic squeals, flailing around and writhing in pain before collapsing onto Sam and Dean.

The brothers panted heavily, shoving their limp bodies beside them and staring down at the monsters they just took out. “Are they dead?” Jo asked. Dean knelt beside Edward, her face was frozen in a grotesque contortion. Sam kneeled beside Madge and checked her pulse, “Yeah…They’re dead.” He confirmed.

They all breathed heavily before Sam broke the silence, noticing it was now after 1 in the morning. Indicting it was now December 24th, “Merry Christmas guys” He smiled with a dry chuckle. The four of them let out tired smiles and chuckles, “Merry Christmas ya filthy animals” Dean said, quoting Home Alone even in his exhausted state as he pressed a kiss to Y/N’s cheek.

____________________________________________

Broken Bow, Nebraska

•Early Christmas Morning - December 25th, 1991

It was snowing outside while Sam was asleep in his bed and Y/N fell asleep in Dean’s bed. The elder Winchester flicked on the lamo on the nightstand and shook the two awake, “Sam, Y/N, wake up!” They shot awake, Y/N rubbing her eyes groggily while Sam groaned. “Dad and Uncle F/N were here. Look what they brought.” Dean said with faux-excitement. He pointed to a little Christmas tree, decorated with a few lights.

“They were here?” Sam grunted, rubbing his eyes as Y/N tilted her head in confusion. “Yeah. Look at this. We made a killing.” Dean nodded towards the presents as Y/N yawned, “Why didn’t they try to wake us up?” She asked, causing Dean’s face to fall. “They tried to, like a thousand times.” Dean lied, Sam seemed to somehow believe it while Y/N’s brows furrowed. “They did?” Sam whispered, hoping it were true.

“Yeah. Did I tell you they would give us Christmas, or what?” Dean nodded, happy Sam took the bait but he saw the unconvinced look on Y/N’s face. “Go on, dive in.” He urged the two to open their presents. Both their faces lit up, quickly peeling off their blankets and hobbling over to the couch. They grabbed various presents and began tearing at the wrapping paper while Dean sat on the opposite end of the couch cross legged, watching excitedly.

Sam’s face contorted in confusion when he unwrapped a very girly gift, “Sapphire Barbie?” He questioned, holding up the doll in the large box as Y/N pulled out her own gift, “Pom poms?” She muttered, Dean’s face fell once more but he covered it up with a chuckle. “They probably think you’re a girl” He told Sam, “And cheerleaders are hot” He winked at Y/N, who rolled her eyes in response, tossing the pom-poms aside while mumbling, “I ain’t no cheerleader.”

“Shut up” Sam scoffed, setting the doll aside before tearing open another gift. A frown appeared on his face once again when he pulled out a sparkly baton, “Are you kidding me?” He mumbled before handing it to Y/N. Dean gave him a sheepish closed-lidded smile “Don’t worry, squirt” he said as he watched Sam open three more girly presents while Y/N got more cheerleading equipment.

His smile faltered when he noticed a look of annoyance growing on Y/N’s face. “They never showed…..did they?” Sam called him out, “Yeah, they did, I swear.” Dean lied but Sam and Y/N didn’t believe him. “Charming, where’d you get this stuff?” Y/N asked tiredly, not in the mood for any more lies. Dean sighed, looking down guilty. “Nice house up the block.” He muttered as they looked away, “I swear I didn’t know they were chick presents.” Dean assured them with a half-smile. They snorted in amusement and nodded in return, understanding Dean’s position.

“Look, I’m sure Dad and Uncle F/N would have been here if they could.” Dean said softly, “If they’re alive” Sam mumbled, “Don’t say that. Of course they’re alive. They’re our Dads.” Sam and Y/N nodded sadly again, sighing. An idea popped into Y/N’s head and she nudged Sam with her shoulder, jerking her head in the direction to where their gifts were in his jacket pocket that was intended for their fathers. Sam caught her drift and nodded in agreement. To which, he took out the two newspaper wrapped jewelry. Handing one to Y/N.

They both extended the gift in Dean’s direction, a look of shock washing over the twelve year old boy’s face, “Here, take this” Sam said softly, resting his gift on Dean’s knee while Y/N rested hers on Dean’s stomach. “No. No, that’s for Dad and Uncle F/N” He denied, shaking his head. “They lied to us. I want you to have it.” Sam assured him. Dean glanced over at Y/N who nodded encouragingly.

“You sure?” he finally muttered, as the gifts ended up in his lap. “Open it” Y/N encouraged, “But—“

“Open it.” Sam butted in, pushing the present towards him. Defeated, he slowly unwrapped the gift, which is a gold amulet on a black string from Sam and a pair of silver rings which were slightly too big for him. “Thank you guys. I-I love it” Dean said genuinely with a smile on his face.

Y/N smiled, as Dean hooked the amulet around his neck and took up one of the silver rings to shimmy it into his thumb. “You’ll grow into it” She chuckled as she patted Dean on his cheek, she then took the other silver ring and handed it to Sam. “Are you sure you don’t want to keep it?” Sam asked the girl, looking down at the ring. “Take it, dipshit. Dean can’t wear two” she simply said with a small smile.

Sam smiled sheepishly as he stuck the ring into his thumb, “Y’know, I’ve got something for you too…I was gonna keep it for your birthday but..” He began, “…but what?” Y/N asked as her brows quivered. Sam bit his lip nervously before walking over to his duffle and digging into it. Dean and Y/N watched with curious eyes as he pulled out a small black jewelry box and padded back over to them, handing it to her, “…Open it”

Her brows furrowed as she opened the box, a loud gasp leaving the eight-year-old’s lips when her eyes landed on the shining gold-heart-shaped-locket. “Do you like it?” Sam asked nervously, watching Y/N’s reaction intensely. “Oh my god…oh my god, I love it, I love it, I love it!” She repeatedly squealed, wrapping her arms around her best friend and tackling him into a tight hug.

Dean barked out a laugh as Sam hugged her back and the two toppled over onto the carpet. “Get off of me, you idiot!” Sam playfully protested, still clinging onto her. After a few seconds of tussling, Y/N sat up, straddling the younger boy as she extended the locket out to Dean. “Put it on me” She instructed him, pushing herself off of Sam to sit in front of Dean on the couch and pulling her hair aside.

Dean nodded wordlessly before unfastening the clasp and looping it around her neck. She reached up, her hand gently touching the golden locket that laid just above her heart, watching as it glistened under the Christmas lights. “It’s beautiful,” she said softly, lightly tracing it with her finger. Her eyes snapped back up to Sam, “How’d you even get this?”

Sam shrugged nonchalantly, “I have my ways.” Y/N and Dean shot Sam dry looks and the boy held up his hand, “Alright, alright. Uncle Bobby gave it to me, said it was for his wife but he never got to give it to her” he explained, “So he gave it to you to give to me?” Y/N asked, confused. Sam nodded, “Said, you’d have good use for it someday” he confirmed, his eyes flickering over to Y/N for a brief second.

“Well, thank you Sammy” she said softly with a small smile, tilting her head in his direction and ruffling his hair affectionately.

____________________________________________

Indiana

•December 25th, 2007 - Christmas Day

After a few hours on the road, Sam and Y/N conversed when it was them alone and agreed to give Dean and Jo the Christmas they were dying for. So to get them out of the house, Y/N, being the ‘needy’ girlfriend she is, told Dean she wanted a cookie cake from her favorite cafe which was a full state over in Illinois. Dean, being the sweet boyfriend he is, begrudgingly went on the trip to the cafe and Sam insisted that Jo take the trip with Dean.

Both hiding their reasonings, they did the quickest Christmas shopping in history, buying gifts for their significant others, each other along with decor for Y/N’s safehouse. All while on a budget.

“You doing okay with the eggnog?” Y/N asked while flipping burgers, her tone amused when she noticed Sam dump nearly an entire bottle of whiskey into the bowl. “Yep. I’m good.” He murmured, stirring the batch of eggnog he made, the strong scent of alcohol wafting from it. He pulled away, fanning his nose as Y/N snorted. He peeled out a paper towel from the roll next to him, taking off his silver ring, which was gifted to him from Y/N several Christmas’ ago, wiping around his finger before securing it back into place.

She smiled to herself, her hand subconsciously making its way to her locket as she plated up the rest of the beef patties. As if on cue, the door to her safehouse opened, revealing two surprised Dean and Jo. Their jaws fell to the ground when their eyes landed on all of the Christmas decor hanging all over the house, “Hey, you get the beer and cookies?” Sam asked the two with a wide smile, holding up two cups of strong eggnog.

“You guys really went all out” Jo said in awe as they entered the room, letting the door swing shut behind them. She smiled up at Sam, accepting one of the eggnogs before pressing a kiss to his lips. Dean’s face morphed into confusion as he set down bags of food onto the makeshift kitchen counter as his gaze traveled around the room. “What’s all this?” He asked, glancing toward the four stockings hung over the mantlepiece.

“What do you think it is, babe? It’s – it’s Christmas.” Y/N said sweetly as she approached him, placing the plate of patties so she could wrap her arms around him. Dean’s emotion filled eyes glanced between his brother and girlfriend, who were looking at him expectantly. “What made you change your minds?” He asked with a slight chuckle, his arms residing on Y/N’s waist. Sam and Y/N shared a look, not willing to answer.

So instead, his brother moved over to pour him a cup of eggnog, “Here, uh ... try the eggnog.” Sam handed Dean the cup. “Let me know if it needs some more kick.” Sam said, handing one to Y/N also. Dean watched the white liquid slosh about in the cup as he took it, “Thanks” he murmured before taking a sip. Y/N chuckled to herself, watching as Dean struggled to hold back a cough as the strong taste of alcohol hit his tongue.

“No, we’re good” Dean assured him, coughing lightly. Sam cackled as Y/N snorted, shaking her head as Jo sipped hers nonchalantly, “Wussies” She commented, “Not all of us grew up in a bar you alcoholic, skank” Y/N shot at her playfully, Jo stuck out her tongue, “At least I know how to drink something with some actual substance and not that weak ass eggnog, slut” She shot back, a smirk plastered on her face.

“Bite me, Jo” Y/N snapped, before sharing a smirk with a chuckling Sam. “Hey, I thought my eggnog was good” Sam scoffed with a look of mock offense. “Awww, it was amazing baby” Jo sweetly as she took his hand, placing it on her ass. To which, Sam pouted and gave her a slight squeeze. “Jo’s just a bitch.” Y/N murmured, sipping her eggnog.

Dean’s jaw went slack slightly, “You two sure do have some interesting ways of showing you love each other” he said, watching how Y/N and Jo both burst into a fit of giggling. “Well, uh, have a seat everyone. Let’s do some Christmas stuff or whatever” Sam chimed in. “Wait, let me plate up the burgers and pie” Y/N placed a finger up before handing Jo her cup of eggnog.

“Did I just hear pie?” Dean piped up, raising an eyebrow with perked interest. “Yes, I made pie. Mom’s recipe, come help me” Y/N chuckled, gently grabbing his arm. “God I love you” Dean mumbled.

-

After they all had their food, now stuffed to the brim, Dean lazily pushed himself up from the couch. “Alright, first things first” He began, picking up a bag from the ground. He pulled out two gifts, handing one to Sam and one to Y/N. “Merry Christmas, guys” They seemed pleasantly surprised, accepting the gifts. “Where’d you get these?” Sam asked with a snort, “Someplace special” Dean shrugged, their gazes snapped back over to him.

“Gas mart on the way back, everywhere closed” Dean admitted. “Open them up,” He urged. Sam and Y/N shared a look, “Well, great minds think alike, charming” Y/N said as she and Sam pulled out their own share of gifts from under the couch. Dean and Jo’s faces lit up, “Really?!” The two exclaimed, Jo shooting up from her place next to Sam as her sister and boyfriend shared the gifts. Sam and Y/N laugh as they open their gifts, Sam receiving porn magazines from his brother, a loud laugh leaving his lips.

“Skin mags!” He laughed, opening the other, “and….shaving cream!” Y/N chuckled at the gift before peering into her package. “Oh my god! Cigarettes and candy? Thank you, babe” she exclaimed, before launching herself at her boyfriend to press a firm kiss onto his lips. “You like?” He asked, returning the kiss. “I love” She assured, glancing over at Sam who nodded, “I love it too” He assured his brother.

Dean smiled, now opening his gifts from Sam and Y/N. A loud laugh left his lips when he opened it to see a candy car and fuel oil from Sam. “Look at this.” he said chuckled, holding up the two. “Fuel for me and fuel for my baby.” He smiled, holding them up. “Might wanna shake out the bag there, sport” Sam commented with a sly grin, pointing to the bag. Dean’s brows furrowed as he shook the bag out and a box of condoms fell out.

Jo bursted out laughing while Sam covered his mouth and Y/N’s face paled, “Oh my god, you did not” Y/N groaned, flipping Sam off. “Ahhh, fuel for my other baby” Dean smirked, shaking the box of condoms in his girlfriend’s direction. “Like if we ever use them” Y/N scoffed, a smirk tethering on her lips.

Dean nodded in acknowledgement as Sam’s face contorted to disgust and Jo snickered. Dean placed the condoms down and picked up his next gift from Y/N with a little more enthusiasm. However that expression completely dropped when he opened it to the sight of a red, satin nightgown with lace trimming. Dean looked at Y/N with a mix of confusion and…arousal.

“That’s for later..” she winked, leaning into his arm. “Oh yeah, I’m definitely going to enjoy that” he murmured, his eyes lingering over the garment before meeting her gaze, his eyes burning with desire. Y/N smirked, biting her lip as her fingers traced patterns over his shoulder, “I know you will” she purred, her touch sending a shiver down his spine.

“Guys—“ Sam’s pensive voice broke them out of their moment, a raised brow in their direction. Rolling their eyes, they peeled away from each other as Jo unwrapped her gift from Sam. Jo’s face lit up like a Christmas tree as she tore through the package. “Sam, you did not” she gasped as she pulled out a new switchblade Sam bought from Target that had a cutlery section.

“Of course I did,” He said with a cheeky grin, watching her examine it in wonder. “You know I love knives,” She murmured. “Thank you, Sammy” She pressed a kiss to his lips before moving to open her gift from Y/N. “Ah, ah, ah-“ She quickly stopped Jo from opening it, “That’s for later too” She whispered to Jo, jerking her head in Sam’s direction with a sly grin.

Jo’s face morphed into a suggestive grin, glancing over to a suspicious Sam, “What is it?” The brothers asked in unison. “Nothing” The girls said quickly as Y/N plopped back onto the couch next to Dean. He sighed, glancing around at everyone in the room. A content smile on his face as his eyes swam with emotion, “Merry Christmas everyone” He said as he placed his cup of eggnog up in a toasting manner.

“Merry Christmas” all the others agreed, lifting up their cups. The boys finished their spiked eggnogs before moving to place them on the coffee table as Y/N leaned against Dean, her head now resting on his shoulder. “This was nice” she murmured, wrapping her hand around his. “Yeah, this was nice” Dean echoed, turning his head to press a kiss to the top of her head. He wrapped his arms around her, tugging her closer to his side.

While trying to swallow all the possibilities that were to come, Sam still cuddled into Jo. The younger girl swaddled into her boyfriend’s side. As the boys grew comfortable against their girlfriends, Jo and Y/N exchanged a knowing look before sharing a small smirk that would’ve gone unnoticed to the oblivious boys. Using their eyes to communicate, they coerced them into going to their own rooms.

____________________________________________

Y/N was currently in front of the bathroom mirror putting on the last touches of her outfit. The brown cowboy hat to go with her sexy outfit was sitting on top of her head as she fixed the fishnet stockings that were wrapped around her legs.

She went all out shopping for lingerie at Target when they sent Dean and Jo out. She shunned Sam off to the big boy section while she went to town in the lingerie section. She averaged Jo’s size and bought her a cute Mrs. Claus outfit to go with the season (unbeknownst to Sam…until now) but Y/N knew her man. She knew Dean would go crazyyy for this cowgirl outfit rather than that red satin crap.

The outfit highlighted her body perfectly, from the tight leather skirt that clung to her hips to the low-cut blouse that exposes a tantalizing hint of cleavage but is just loose enough to tease and tempt. The stockings rose up to her mid-thigh, held up by a garter belt, the material hugging her legs tightly. A cowboy hat sat rakishly on her head, adding to the seductive image, and cowboy boots complete the look.

Dean always had a very strong obsession with cowboys, so she felt it was her duty as his girlfriend to…divulge in that with him, in her own way, of course. This was definitely the best Christmas gift for Dean. She gave herself a once over before signing contently before pushing the bathroom door open.

Dean sat unsuspectingly on the bed, his head buried in the Harry Potter book Y/N had been nagging him to finally read. He seemed taken up in it, as he hadn’t looked up at his girlfriend yet. “I swear, Hermione did all the work” Dean muttered, shaking his head as he flipped a page.

With an amused chuckle, y/n rolled her eyes before clearing her throat. “Howdy” She flashed him a coy smile, leaning against the bathroom door, her thumbs hooked into her belt loops on the skirt. Dean’s brows furrowed in confusion as he was snapped out of his reading, his jaw plummeting to the ground, the book slipping from his grasp and onto the bed. “God damn” He breathed out.

Dean’s gaze roamed over every inch of Y/N, taking in the provocative outfit she had put together for him. His mouth went dry as he drank in the sight of her body accentuated by the tight leather, her legs on display in those fishnets and boots. He swallowed hard, trying to regain some composure as she strode over to him but he was still amazed.

“God…fucking…damn” He repeated, his breath more labored. She smiled back at him, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Well ain't you a sight for sore eyes," she drawled out in her best imitation of a Southern accent as she crawled onto the bed, now moving to straddle him.

He chuckled softly, his hands instinctively reaching up to grip her hips as she settled down on top of him. Her curves pressed against his chest, making him feel even more lightheaded than before. "I reckon you're the one looking mighty fine tonight," he replied, his voice deepening with arousal.

The way the material of her blouse strained across her breasts, threatening to give way anytime soon made Dean crave to bury his face between them. His fingers dug into her flesh slightly, pulling her closer if possible.

Y/N giggled at this, allowing her hands to reside on his shoulders. “Well, you’re always on about those damn cowboys” She quipped back, running her hands along his chest. “So saddle up partner,” She whispered, leaning in to kiss along his neck.

A shiver ran through Dean's spine at her touch, his breathing growing heavier. He leaned into her kisses, his hands sliding up to cup her ass firmly. "Damn straight," he murmured back, his voice husky with desire. "And let me tell ya... I plan on riding you all night long."

He tilted his head to the side, giving her better access to his neck while his lips found the sensitive skin behind her earlobe. Y/N moaned softly as Dean's lips trailed along her ear, her nails digging gently into his shoulders. "Mmm, well then...let's get this rodeo started" She purred, grinding her hips against his growing erection.

She pulled back slightly, looking down at him with lust-filled eyes. "But first..." She reached for the hem of her blouse, slowly lifting it up to reveal her black lace bra, the cups barely containing her breasts. "I want you to see what you do to me."

His eyes darkened as she lifted her shirt, revealing her lacy bra. He groaned, his hands squeezing her ass harder. "Fuck baby," he muttered, his own arousal throbbing beneath her. He reached up to unclasp her bra, pulling it off her body and tossing it aside. His hands immediately replaced them, kneading her soft flesh roughly.

“Thank you, God” He murmured, looking up to the sky before diving straight in, taking one of her nipples in his mouth. Y/N gasped sharply at the sudden contact, arching her back to push herself further into his mouth. "Oh fuck!" She cried out, her hands tangling in his hair, urging him on.

Her other hand slipped between their bodies, fumbling with the buckle of her belt before tugging down the zipper of her skirt. She pushed it off her hips, letting it pool around her waist as she rocked her hips against him.

With each tug of her hand in his hair, Dean sucked harder on her nipple, alternating between gentle nibbles and rough pulls. His free hand slid down her stomach, tracing the outline of her thong before dipping below it to find her wetness.

His fingers delved into her heat, curling inside her to stroke her clit. "Goddamn...you're soaked already," he growled against her skin. “Ah, ah, ah” She chided, snatching his hand. “‘Not so fast sugar” She smirked, leaning in again to trail kisses down his body. “You don’t get to touch me yet, not until I taste you”

A sharp intake of breath escaped him as she pulled away, leaving him wanting more. But he wasn't going to complain; he loved everything about this game they played. He watched her crawl down his body, his muscles tensing in anticipation.

As her warm breath hit his bulging erection, trapped within the confines of his jeans, he bit down on his lower lip to keep himself from bucking into her face. "Fuck...Y/N," he grunted out, his hands gripping the sheets tightly.

She giggled before unzipping his pants, her actions deliberately slow and tantalizing. With a wicked grin plastered on her face, she peeled off his jeans, freeing his throbbing cock which sprang forth eagerly. "Look at you, all ready and waiting for me." She teased, wrapping her hand around him.

Leaning in close, she pressed a gentle kiss to his tip. A hiss left him as she kissed him, the sensation sending sparks shooting up his spine. "That's right...just for you," he breathed out, his hips involuntarily jerking towards her touch.

He watched her intently, mesmerized by the sight of her kneeling between his spread thighs. His heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

She then pressed her tongue right against him, tracing it down to the base of his cock and back up, holding the hat in place with one hand. The sensation of her warm tongue sliding over his length made him groan loudly, his head falling back onto the pillow. "Son of a bitch..," he muttered under his breath, his eyes fluttering shut.

His right hand moved to the hat, sitting on top of her head, guiding her movements without actually telling her what to do. The moment she took him fully into her mouth, Dean threw his head back, a guttural moan escaping his lips. "Shittt...Y/N," he whined, his hips rolling upwards to meet her mouth.

"Just like that...fuck yes," he praised, his voice thick with lust. Y/N smirked, loving the effect she had on him. She continued her ministrations, before finally taking him into her mouth until he hit the back of her throat.

His fingers tightened around the brim of the hat, using it to steady himself as she bobbed up and down on him. "Holy fuck...you're gonna make me cum if you keep that up," he warned, though there was no real bite to his words.

Y/N pulled off his cock with a pop, smirking up at him. "Good," She said simply, licking her lips. She then got up and straddled him once more, positioning him at her entrance. "I need you to do just that" She whispered, rocking her hips forward, his tip brushing against her clit as she gripped his shoulders. Y/N moaned softly as she felt his tip press against her, teasing her entrance.

She began to rock her hips back and forth, rubbing her slick folds against him. Each movement sent waves of pleasure coursing through her body, making her crave more. Finally, after several teasing moments, she lowered herself onto him, taking him inch by agonizingly slow inch inside her tight warmth.

Dean's eyes snapped open, meeting hers with a burning intensity as she impaled herself on his cock. A desperate whimper left his lips as he felt her tight heat envelop him completely. His hands gripped her hips tightly, helping guide her movements as she began to ride him. "Fuck yes...take what you need," he encouraged, his voice strained with pleasure.

"You're so fucking tight...gonna make me lose it soon." He rambled. The feeling of her clenching walls surrounding him drove Dean wild. He couldn't help but thrust upward, matching her rhythm. His grip on her hips became firmer, almost bruising.

"Y/N...you feel incredible," he moaned out, his eyes locked onto hers. Each roll of his hips sent shockwaves of pleasure rippling throughout his entire being. As Y/N rode him with increasing fervor, her praise turned filthy and raw.

"Oh god, Dean...your cock feels so good stretching me open," she panted, her breathy voice sending shivers down his spine. "You're hitting all the right spots, baby...." Her hips ground against him, her inner walls milking his dick for every ounce of pleasure.

"Fuckk, I love how deep you go...filling me up so perfectly," she gasped, her eyes flashing with lust. "Keep pounding into me like that and I'm gonna cum all over you." In a swift motion, she pulled herself off from him before turning around, repositioning herself.

With a grunt of approval, Dean watched as Y/N flipped around, presenting him with a view he'd never tire of. Her ass jiggled enticingly as she positioned herself above him, her pussy dripping with desire. "God damn," he murmured appreciatively, reaching up to spank it hard enough to leave a red mark.

The slap stung, but only served to fuel the fire raging within her. "Mmmph" She moaned, pushing back against his hand. She then slowly lowered herself onto him once more, her back pressed against his chest, her slick folds parting to take him in.

With a lustful growl, Dean grabbed hold of her hips and started slamming into her with relentless force. Each thrust buried him deeper, stretching her deliciously wide. The sound of their flesh slapping together filled the room, punctuated by her mewls of pleasure.

The sight of her bouncing ass moving rhythmically against him was enough to send him over the edge. "Fuck yeah...ride me baby," he encouraged, his voice rough with arousal. "Ohhh...that's it, baby..." She moaned, giving it her all as she reached over and gripped his thighs . "Give it to me harder!"

With each thrust, Y/N could feel Dean’s cock pulsating inside her, hitting all the right spots. She cried out, her voice echoing through the room. Her pace quickened, her ass cheeks clapping against his hips with each downward stroke.

"More! Give it to me harder!" She begged, looking back at him over her shoulder. Her eyes were glazed with lust, her lips parted slightly as she panted heavily. Hearing her pleas, Dean gave into her demand. Gripping her hips to stop her movements before taking control. He slammed into her even harder, his balls slapping against her dripping cunt with each brutal thrust.

The sound of their bodies colliding filled the room, creating an erotic symphony that matched the rhythm of their coupling. "You like that? You like getting fucked hard?" he grunted out, his voice laced with raw desire.

A loud cry ripped from her throat as he pounded into her relentlessly. "Yes! Fuck yes!" She screamed out, her nails digging into his thighs. Her orgasm built rapidly, coiling tightly within her core.

"Faster...faster!" She demanded, her body trembling with impending release. Dean shoved her forward, so she was now on all fours before positioning himself at her pussy behind her.

With renewed vigor, Dean grabbed onto Y/N's hips and started hammering into her at a ferocious pace. The bed creaked ominously beneath them, struggling to contain the force of their passionate encounter.

Y/N let out a series of high-pitched moans as Dean fucked her mercilessly, his cock pistoning in and out of her dripping cunt. She pushed back against him, meeting each of his thrusts with equal fervor.

"Yes, Dean! Just like that! Don’t stop!" She screamed, her voice hoarse from exertion and pleasure. Feeling her tighten around him, Dean knew she was close. "Come on baby, give it to me," he growled, his voice husky with desire.

He reached around to rub her clit, adding another layer of stimulation to the already intense experience. "Let go, Y/N. Cum for me," he urged, his thrusts becoming erratic as his own climax neared.

Y/N's cries intensified as Dean rubbed her sensitive nub, the added stimulation proving too much for her to handle. With one final thrust, she shattered around him, her walls clamping down on his throbbing cock like a vice.

"AHHH!! DEAN!!" She screamed out his name, her body convulsing violently as wave after wave of pure ecstasy crashed over her and her eyes flashed over the usual ball of white.

Feeling her clenching around him, Dean lost control. With a few more powerful thrusts, he reached his peak, his seed spilling into her with abandon. "Fuck...Y/N!" he roared, his voice filled with satisfaction and relief.

He held onto her tightly, riding out the waves of their shared orgasms until they both collapsed onto the bed, panting heavily. Collapsing onto the bed, Y/N let out a content sigh, her body still quivering from the aftershocks of her orgasm.

She rolled over onto her back, pulling Dean down with her. "You did good, partner" she purred in a playful southern accent, running her fingers through his hair affectionately.

With a satisfied smirk, Dean rolled onto his side beside her, propping himself up on one elbow. "Damn straight I did," he replied, leaning down to capture her lips in a deep kiss. His tongue explored her mouth, tasting the sweetness of their combined releases.

As they broke apart for air, he chuckled, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "I think we've earned ourselves a nap." Y/N giggled, as Dean pushed himself off of her to fetch a towel. "Sounds perfect to me, handsome," she murmured, her eyes landing on the discarded cowboy hat on the ground.

Dean returned with a warm, damp towel and gently cleaned Y/N's thighs and between her legs. After tossing the towel aside as she peeled off the skirt that was still bunched around her waist. Dean crawled back into bed and pulled her close, spooning her from behind.

"Comfy?" he asked softly, pressing a tender kiss to her shoulder. "Yeah, comfy." Y/N responded, curling up closer to Dean's chest. Dean wrapped his arms around her, holding her securely against him as he drifted off to sleep, his breathing steady and relaxed. Y/N listened to the rhythmic beating of his heart, feeling safe and content in his embrace. The warmth of their joined bodies and the soft sounds of their gentle snores soon pulled her into a peaceful slumber as well.

____________________________________________

Author’s Note: Holy…mother…of…GOD. This has to be my longest chapter yet LORDDDDD. This chapter stands at 26k words and I truly hope it was good because my motivation has been down and my mental health hasn’t been all that great.

However, I finished it! I loved doing this episode and I’m mad I couldn’t finish it sooner. We’re nearing one of the most iconic episodes of the entire series..MYSTERY SPOT. I’m excited but nervous lol.

Thank you to my bestie for proofreading this chapter because I was too lazy, I love you babe and I owe @nesnejwritings ❤️❤️❤️

Till the next one, I hope everyone is doing great! Be sure to check out Y/N’s playlist🫶

Taglist: @hjgdhghoe @rach5ive @tiggytaylor @star-yawnznn @quarterhorse19

@deangirl96 @bitchykittenconnoisseur @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @mrsjjkwinchester

@juwu-theliciosa @magiccliopleurodon @nesnejwritings @karrah89 @whattheduckisupkyle

@iloveyou2mia @thelittlelightinthedarkness @lmhf1 @littletomboy2 @zigzoggy

@hey-its-zoe @modiddys-blog @thvxr @tommysaxes @cookiemonstermusic258 @elite4cekalyma

@ladykitana90 @strawberrykiwisdogog @barnes70stark

Xoxo

[arsonwithextrasteps]

A/N: another fanfic for you!! Haven't seen ANY Bidwell fanfics so I thought I'd change that!! Can be seem as romantic or platonic!!

TF2 Bidwell x (gn) Reader

A Cup of Rain

A quiet grumble came from outside as the sky poured down rain. It had been a slow day at the diner not many people wanted to catch a bite to eat with their clothes soaked through. Well, that didn't stop one of the regulars from coming in after work, his red attire soaked through with his hat doing little to nothing from stopping his face also getting drenched. 

Though it wasn't odd to see Scout in the diner around this time on a Tuesday, it was definitely odd to see another man with him that didn't seem part of the main cast of characters that normally came here with him. 

He was shorter, but had the same sort of face as Scout, maybe his brother? You think quietly to yourself as you wipe down a table keeping an ear out. He was dressed in more appropriate attire for this type of weather, a suit protected by a long coat overtop, brandishing an umbrella with one hand which he shook off just outside the door so as to not drag in any water. Scout tried to move to a booth to sit before the other man grabbed his arm, giving a little frown. 

“ wipe off your feet- don't drag mud all over the place” he sighed as Scout huffed, grumbling as he wiped off his feet quickly before sliding into a booth. The other guy soon joined, sitting across, resting his umbrella up against his seat before looking over the menu. Since Scout had dined here many times before, he looked around for a free wait staff before locking eyes with you, a grin spreading on his face as he waved you down.

You gave a smile back, walking over notebook in hand, “nice to see you back again, brought a new friend this time?” you asked, which gave Scout a laugh as the other guy gave you a little glance before he continued to study the menu. 

“Nah this is my brother Biddy-!” 

“ That is not my name-”  the guy squinted at his younger brother. 

You gave a quiet chuckle at the brothers banter, giving a nod . “right- you having your normal order Scout?” you questioned, already writing it down as the male nodded. “You betcha! Bid, what are you gettin’?” he asked across the table to his brother, who set down the menu turning his attention to you. 

“Coffee and a waffle plate please” he said resting his hands ontop of eachother on the table. You gave another nod, writing it down with Scout’s order before smiling between them both. “Alright , that’ll be out with you in a moment” you turned away back towards the kitchen as the brothers started to talk between themselves. 

A few hours passed by, the diner didn't pick up much over the hours as the rain didn't stop and the sky got darker in return. Scout had actually up and left earlier, getting a call from  his work to head back. So now only left was Bidwell ( you found out this name by listening in, you didn't think he'd want to be remembered as ‘Biddy’) , who was still sitting in the booth,  some paperwork spread on the table next to his empty plate and half filled cup of coffee. 

He seemed deep in thought about something or other as he watched the rain trail down the glass of the window. You glanced over at the time then back at him… Your shift was almost  over so you decided to make a little conversion with the guy. 

“Enjoying the quiet time?” you ask, topping up his coffee and glancing at his paperwork. Mann Co huh… Bidwell gave a light scoff, but nodded. “Yeah, he sure knows how to yap” he chuckled, giving a small thanks as he took his cup, taking a small sip, relaxing back into the booth seat. 

“Work got you busy?” you inquired, nodding to the papers on the table. Bidwell gave a heavy sigh, nodded, “never a day of peace working for Mr. Hale I'll tell you that” he shook his head, eye studying the paperwork for a moment before he gathered them all up into a neat pile, tucking them back away into his coat. 

“Well my shift is about to end..maybe you'd like a bit of company?” you offered, you wouldn't be surprised if he turned you down. After all you had only just met, and as far as you knew you were just the ‘pretty sweet wait staff’ at the diner, in Scout's words. Bidwell was quiet for a moment before shrugging, giving you a small smile. 

“Sure” he simply said, chuckling a bit at how surprised you looked for a moment. “Oh- oh great! Hang on, I finish in 20- i’ll  be right back!” you said, a happy bounce in your step as you went back to the kitchen to finish off your tasks for today and clock out. 

Once that was all done, you made your way back over to the booth, sat down and…talked. You two talked for what seemed like only a few minutes which in reality was a few hours. To anyone looking at the two of you, it could have seemed like you'd been friends for years. And as it got later and later, it got close to closing time where a coworker told you they were clearing out for the night, you had gotten so caught up in talking you barely realised how late it had gotten. 

As you got up, throwing on your coat so did Bidwell, hiding his neatly ironed blue suit underneath his own coat, you smiled at him. “Guess this is goodbye huh? Be sure to come back alright?” you told him, making him laugh in return as you both stepped out of the diner and into the cold outside air where it was still raining. You sighed, wishing you'd brought an umbrella today. Seems bidwell could tell as he passed over his open umbrella to you. 

“My cars parked down the street, you can use this and return it when i come back yeah?” he smiled. You nodded, happy you wouldn't get soaked on your walk home and even more so at having met Bidwell today.

“I'll see you later! This was fun!” you told him before positioning the umbrella above your head and went on your way walking home in high spirits. 

Bidwell stood there for a moment, watching your figure disappear away into the rain before sighing annoyed at himself. His car wasn't there. He didn't drive here. He took a bus with Scout that wasn't running this late at night. 

Oh well, guess he was walking back and getting soaked. It was worth it though.