#what a fantastic christmas like DAMN

[blindedbypassions]

THIS IS AMAZING I LOVE IT SO MUCH AHHHHHB

dhampire boyfriends for @blindedbypassions

i hope you like it!

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

the flower guy. l Joel Miller

Summary: someone leaves flowers at your door

Warnings: some bad words (fuck), but other than that just fluff and stupid sweet talking

A/N: I think Joel deserves everything sweet and nice, I would like to give him this scribble. (and I wanted to thank you for every heart, reblog and observation. it means a lot)

It happened again.

Curiosity led you towards the porch where for a long time, every morning, you found a flower lying there. Sometimes it was an ordinary wild flower like a poppy or cornflower, and sometimes a few daisies. And even though your mind told you that it couldn't entirely be safe, your heart melted every time you opened the door.

This time you found a lilac flower on the doormat and without thinking, you inhaled its intense scent.

Was it stupid? Unwise?

You didn't know who left you such surprises, but he definitely made your day. You went to sleep wondering if something new would appear on the wiper, and then you woke up excited like a child on Christmas Day.

"A penny for your thoughts?"

Ellie's voice broke you out of your thoughts. You were walking through a meadow near Jackson, partly to look around and partly to kill time. The warm sun warmed your backs as you lazily walked through the tall grass.

"Did he show up again?" the girl lowered her voice, but couldn't hide her excitement. "Did he leave anything?"

You looked at Ellie's bright face, then quickly glanced over your shoulder. The girl's gaze followed yours.

Joel followed you a dozen or so steps and didn't seem to care about you at all.

"Shhh!" you hissed, but you couldn't hide your smile.

"He doesn't even listen to us." Ellie shrugged. "We could be talking about all your ex-boyfriends and intimate relationship details and Joel would still just find dangers around us. He doesn't care."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. He's wandering around looking for something to do. Jackson seems to be boring him. Anyway," she grabbed your arm lightly, "Did he show up again?"

"Yes." you replied quietly, "He left me a lilac flower."

"Damn! I thought he would finally invite you somewhere! Idiot..."

"Why do you say that?" you were outraged, although you didn't feel angry at the girl at all. "I think it's sweet and romantic. Besides, blind dates, in this day and age, are probably not a good idea."

"Maybe you're right, but that doesn't change the fact that he's an idiot. He could just talk to you. Say something like, 'Hey, girl. You look stunning. Do you want to go out together?' "

You burst out laughing and quickly glanced over your shoulder again. Joel still didn't seem to be paying much attention to you.

"You should stop reading those teen magazines. They're just bullshit!"

"Are you kidding me?! They're fantastic. Can you tell me about your first time?"

"About what?!"

"About your sexual experience." Ellie sighed as if explaining such simple things to you was boring for her. "I asked Joel, but he told me to shut up and he went somewhere again."

"And he was right. You're too young for this."

"And you're too old to play ‘throwing flowers on the doormat’."

You already regretted that you had even told Ellie about what you found in front of your door in the morning. However, you had no choice, one morning she caught you picking up flowers and wouldn't leave you alone until you told her everything.

You weren't even going to tell Joel about it. He would definitely tell you right away that all this was suspicious, and then he would lie in wait outside your house with a shotgun to catch whoever was visiting you. This was definitely not a good idea.

"Hey!"

You both turned towards the voice calling to you. Joel stopped and stared intently at the nearby forest.

"I think I saw a deer there. Maybe we should go that way?" he pointed to an unspecified place.

"Are you sure?" you asked as you and Ellie approached him. "Maybe he escaped?"

"Maybe, but it's always worth checking."

"Sure. There's nothing we can do anyway. At least Ellie will be quiet."

Joel smiled slightly. You liked this view. Those little sweet lines around his eyes and some warmth radiating from him at that moment.

You were already used to Joel and Ellie's presence in Jackson, and you were also glad that they found each other in this place. You quickly found a common language and after some time Ellie became a frequent guest in your home. Thus, Joel Miller also became your close friend.

You liked his presence. And although sometimes his response was a grunt, or he looked at you in a strange way that made you wonder if you had done something stupid. You recognized his silhouette from a distance. Tall, broad shoulders, warm brown eyes, hair streaked with gray and that smile hidden in a soft beard.

Yeah, you could keep your eyes on him longer.

You quietly closed the door and ran down the few steps onto an empty road bathed in the first rays of sunlight. The pleasant coolness that surrounded you immediately woke you up. Despite everything, all you wanted to do was lie in your bed and try to get some sleep. Molly's twins cried all night because their teeth were coming in, and you promised to help her so she could nap for a while. So that night was hard.

You were already close to your house when you suddenly saw it. There was a person standing on your porch.

Your heart almost jumped out of your chest, but you reacted quickly, hiding behind some boxes standing next to the nearest building.

Maybe it was stupid and you could have acted like a responsible adult, but still... Fuck! You didn't expect to catch him in a situation like this. Especially since you were so curious and...

The man withdrew and went down the stairs, the sun shining on his face.

You'd recognize this man anywhere.

You knew you wouldn't fall asleep again. Even though you were lying in bed and the window curtains were drawn tightly, you were staring at the ceiling with wide eyes. It was insane.

You would never in your life suspect that the person who left you flowers for so long was Joel Miller. Because how come? Joel?

You were friends, you spent a lot of time together, and Ellie treated your house almost like it was her own. But it seemed to you that he never took you seriously. To him, you were just like any other resident of Jackson, and you even had the impression that he became more gruff around you.

“Fuuuck…” you moaned, rubbing your face with your hands.

Your brain no longer functioned normally and only gave you a headache. You needed at least a few hours of sleep, but that probably wasn't going to happen.

After some more fidgeting in bed, you got up, intending to take a shower and eat something.

Joel. Why did it have to be Joel? After all, it changes everything. How were you supposed to look him in the face now? Would you act like nothing happened? And why was he doing it?

You didn't even feel like going to the bar today. You were sure you would find Joel and Tommy there, and that was probably the last thing you wanted.

A loud knock on the door echoed through the house.

"Y/N? Are you there?" Ellie banged on the door again, “Y/N?”

Did you just hide behind the kitchen cabinet? God! What the hell was that supposed to be?

Ellie's footsteps faded away and you finished your coffee sitting on the kitchen floor. You had only one way out of this situation, you could pretend that nothing happened, avoid Joel for a while until the matter resolved itself. Because he definitely just wanted to please you. Flowers are not a wedding promise, right?

"Pull yourself together, kid." you muttered to yourself as you got up from the floor. “It's just Joel. Just stupid flowers. Nothing more. Don't look for something in it that isn't there.”

You could have avoided Miller, but Ellie found you the next day. She wasn't happy when you told her you wouldn't be going on patrol with them for a while and you were taking on other responsibilities in Jackson.

"But it was so fun!" the girl groaned, leaning against the bar counter. “Even Joel had fun.”

"Right. But you see, we can't spend every free moment together, Ellie." you replied, placing the just-washed glasses in the cabinet.

"Why not?"

"Because I guess I feel awkward when Joel is around." of course you didn't tell her that and she couldn't read your mind.

"Do you have anyone?"

"W-What?!" the glass almost fell out of your hand.

"Maybe you're dating someone and that's why you can't see us?"

"Bullshit."

"And your flower guy? What about him? Did he talk to you? Did he show up?"

"Ellie, please. Can you get off of me?"

"I knew it! He must have been some hideously ugly and sleazy guy!"

"Ellie!" you interrupted her, placing your hands on your hips. “Stop it! I don't want to talk about it. These are adult matters, not for you.”

"Oh, sure! Joel says the same thing when I ask him where he's going alone this early in the morning. 'None of your business, kid.'" the girl mimicked the low tone of Joel's voice, "You two should meet up and talk about your adult stuff, because you're both acting weird." "

Was it easy for you? NO.

Did you feel bad for Ellie and Joel? Yes. Especially towards Joel.

Would you give anything to go back to the way it was before? Yes. You guess.

There was one big swirl of thoughts in your head, and your life had been like a game of hide and seek for several days. Flowers continued to appear on your doormat and you felt extremely guilty.

You liked Joel. Even very much. You could list a lot of his advantages and disadvantages, but it all made him what he was. You missed him so much, but you were afraid that if you went any further, your friendship might suffer. And then avoiding him in Jackson would be even more difficult.

It happened the day you were cleaning one of the warehouses. It was already starting to get dark outside when you, completely immersed in your thoughts, were arranging cans and jars on wooden shelves.

"I got you."

It was like a gunshot. A low and warm voice appeared out of nowhere, but you knew its owner perfectly.

You turned around. Joel stood leaning against the door, watching you warily. His denim shirt had a few buttons undone and his arms were folded across his chest.

"Oh, hi." you mumbled, "I didn't hear you come in. Do you need anything?"

"You." he replied and you felt your throat tighten.

You must have looked scared, because Miller added after a moment.

"I mean... Fuck." he cleared his throat, "I was looking for you because you seem to have been avoiding me lately."

"Where did this idea come from?" you tried to smile, but it probably came out too nervous. “I'm definitely not avoiding you. I've just been busy. Just busy.”

"I got a different impression."

You didn't know how to respond to that so you tried to go back to work, but Joel was still standing there. You felt his eyes on you and your cheeks burned.

"So everything's okay between us?" he asked after a moment of silence.

"Definitely." you replied quickly, "Everything's great!"

"Okay then."

Silence again. It would be easier for you if he left, but he still stood there.

"You know, Ellie thinks you're seeing someone." he started again.

You turned to Joel.

"No, that's not true. I already told her about it." you replied, "I don't know why we're even bringing this up, Joel. I've had some work to do lately. I can't be with you all the time, even if I wanted to... It's complicated, Joel."

"I get it. It's a little complicated for me too, because I really like being with you."

You bit your lip because those words were really...nice. And comfortable for you. You missed him so much that it was hard for you to admit it, even to yourself.

“Listen, Y/N. I'm really bad at this.” Joel nervously placed his hands on his hips. "I haven't done this in years and it might seem embarrassing. Ellie would definitely say I'm acting like an idiot. I think I know why you've been avoiding me, and it's not because of work."

"You think so?"

"Yeah."

The ball was in your court. Joel stood in front of you, completely disarmed and needing your help to sort this all out.

"I know it's you, Joel." you started hesitantly, "Those flowers, I saw you the other morning. It kind of surprised me."

"Did I do something wrong? I'm sorry, I..."

"NO!" you interrupted him quickly. "It was the nicest thing that's happened to me in a long time. I was just scared, you know. We're friends, I don't want any of our bad decisions to change that."

“We're only human, Y/N. We'll always make bad decisions, but there will be good ones too.”

"But should we take the risk? I really like you a lot, Joel. I've missed you so much."

He walked towards you slowly.

"I missed you too." he said "God, every day I found myself wanting to look at you, hear your voice or laugh. And then I realized that you weren't with me. I didn't want you to feel trapped by me."

"I didn't feel like that! I guess I never realized what I felt. Having you next to me was just natural to me."

"Same here." he smiled "I guess we actually acted like fucking kids."

"I think so. Ellie wouldn't leave us alone if she found out."

"She'll find out anyway." Joel shrugged. “Because now I want to do it right, Y/N. I know we don't have many options, but maybe you'd like to... Fuck.” he took a deep breath. "Maybe you'd like to spend the evening with me? We can have a few drinks, talk, and spend some time together. Alone."

"Sounds really good."

His face lit up with a smile, and you realized how much you missed him. Maybe it was stupid, maybe you were acting like kids, but why wouldn't you?

When Joel left the warehouse, he seemed to be in a really good mood, and you felt a flock of butterflies in your stomach. You wanted to spend this evening with him, you wanted to see his wonderful and warm eyes again. You may have had a soft spot for him, but he definitely felt the same way.

And you were both like teenagers, and that was good.

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[bluebeary-jay]

Hold me close and hold me fast

Hi, my darling @always-andromeda!! I'm your secret santa from the space sisters server 🥰 I hope you're having a fantastic day and will enjoy what I wrote for you 💕 I tried to mix fluff and angst into your Joel prompt and it was tricker than I thought it'd be but hopefully I did it justice 😌 I wish you all that's best and happy holidays!!

Summary: It's been a long time since Joel was in any relationship and because of that he has absolutely no clue how to react to your affections. It culminates into an angsty conversation which he wanted to avoid at all costs.

Tags: tooth-rotting fluff, fluff and angst, soft and shy Joel, hurt/comfort, established relationship 💕

Word count: 3.3K

A/N: dividers by @saradika, beta read by @reddedmiller ❤️

Twenty years ago, when the apocalypse started and Joel Miller lost his only daughter, he was certain that he’d never feel happy again. Time didn’t heal his wounds – he still thought like that when he was fighting for survival with Tommy, then when he was doing side jobs with Tess in the QZ… It was never going to get better.

But somehow, as he looked up at the massive tree he just helped the others set up in the middle of the square in Jackson, he realized that it could. It did. Now Joel had a home here. He had his brother back, he had Ellie whom he cared for like his own kid and he had a community that welcomed him into Jackson, people who didn’t know about the horrible things he’d done and therefore didn’t hate him.

“Hi, handsome,” he heard from behind his back and turned around to the most beautiful face in the world – the main source of his newfound happiness. You. His girl. “Are you done with work?”

He nodded with a small smile gracing his lips. You were the newest addition to Joel’s life, but the most precious one in his eyes. Unlike everyone else in Jackson (excluding his brother), you knew all about the sins he’s committed. And yet, you still chose him. Every day you continued to choose him, to envelop him with the warmth of your love which Joel wasn’t sure he deserved.

He’d never tell you, though. Not as long as you kept him in your heart.

“Yeah, no, we’re done. M’pretty sure my back will blow if I have to pick up or carry one more damn thing.”

Right at that moment Tommy walked by with another box full of tree ornaments in his arms, and huffed a laugh when he heard his brother complaining.

“Jesus, Joel, you really are gettin’ old.” He put down the heavy box on the snow and sighed, propping his hands on his hips and nodding at you. “You sure you’ll be able to put up with this grump?”

“Positive.” You climbed onto your tip-toes to press a kiss to Joel’s cheek, and he felt his skin growing hot under your lips. He turned his head to hide the embarrassment evident on his face, missing the slight furrow of your brows, but not missing a hearty laugh his brother let out.

“Aww, is the big, scary man gettin’ all shy from a little kiss on the cheek?”

“Get lost, Tommy.”

Tommy chuckled and bent down to pick up the box again. “By the way, you two have any plans for today? We’re makin’ a screening of some Christmas movies for the kids, and after that the adults will head to the bar. You should come.”

“Well, if you want to?” you directed the careful question to Joel, but he shook his head just slightly, causing you to smile. “But we actually have other plans for tonight.”

That was true, and there was no way Joel would trade those precious hours spent in your company for having to sit – or worse, dance – in a loud room full of half-drunk people.

“Sounds like somethin’ I don’t wanna know about.”

“We’re just gonna bake some cookies for Ellie,” Joel murmured when you bumped his arm lightly with a giggle. The irritation at his brother lessened slightly when he heard the sound of your laughter. “But don’t tell ‘er.”

“My lips are sealed.” Tommy winked at Joel, then shifted his eyes to you. “Enjoy your evening, lovebirds.”

“That’s the plan.” You took Joel’s hand in both of yours, beaming up at him with excitement. “You’re ready?”

“Yeah.” He inconspicuously let go of your hands to brush the arm of your jacket lightly, and then nodded in the direction of his house. “C’mon, darlin’.”

He hoped he wasn’t coming off as too harsh as he hid his gloved hands in the pockets, intending to blame it on the cold in case you asked. But instead of saying anything, you just matched his step and slipped your hands around his arm. Joel went rigid when you leaned your head on his shoulder, the side of your body almost hugging his.

Joel loved you like no one before and until he met you, he hadn’t been this happy in years. But there was a problem, a major one, in your relationship that he didn’t at all know how to address.

Because Joel didn’t have any clue how to react to all your touches.

No matter if they were tender or needy, brief or lasting, he always felt out of his depth. It’s been so long since he actually wanted to be intimate with someone that when the chance arose… he was at loss. You were such an affectionate person and he loved that part of you, he cherished all touches and gestures you graced him with – craved them even – but…

He stole a glance at you, wondering if you could feel the stiffness of his body when you were so close, but it seemed that you were none the wiser. He tried to will his muscles to relax, but it didn’t work and he still felt an uncomfortable feeling crawling up his arm.

The problem wasn’t that he didn’t know what he was supposed to do as your partner, but ever since Sarah died, he hadn’t had an opportunity to show affection to someone. Everything he thought about seemed awkward and incongruous, but he really didn’t want you to think that he was an inexperienced old man who didn’t know how to please – and in your case, love – a woman.

He did. In theory.

So he tried his hardest to show you in other ways how much he cares about you. He brought you gifts, whether they were knickknacks scavenged during his patrols or wooden figurines he made for you. He did what he could to relieve you of your duties, helped around the house and out in the town. He found time during the day to spend with you or at least just talk in passing if you both were busy.

But that still wasn’t enough. He knew that wasn’t enough.

Every damn time you cuddled, every time you kissed him or did something as simple as lay your head on his shoulder, Joel never felt better. He never wanted those moments to end, but at the same time he just couldn’t reciprocate, and it was tearing him apart, because he could see how hurtful it was to you.

“You’re quiet.”

Joel snapped out of his thoughts and looked down at you, noting that you’re almost at his place. He breathed a little lighter when he realized that he managed to go all this way without the need of pulling his arm out of your grasp.

“Is everything alright?” you asked with concern in your beautiful eyes and squeezed his bicep slightly, causing Joel to clench his teeth. “Listen, if you’d prefer to go with Tommy, just tell me…”

“Hey, I’m okay, sweetheart,” he assured you quickly and even managed to smile as if the guilt of not being able to even kiss your forehead wasn’t eating him alive. “There’s no one else I’d rather be with right now.”

“Just right now?” you asked teasingly, and Joel couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him.

“Listen here, you little tease…”

A bright smile returned to your face and you tugged his arm down so your lips could reach his stubbly cheek – and (only a little) reluctantly, he let you kiss him with a huff.

But the guilt of not telling you the true reason of his worries was still swirling in his stomach, making him feel sick for the rest of the way.

An hour and a half later the cookies were already done, and somehow the attempt to clean each other off the flour and the colorful frosting you used to decorate them ended up with you sitting in Joel’s lap, kissing him softly.

Not that he minded.

There was nothing as wonderful as the feeling of your lips on his skin, Joel was sure of it. It’s been an embarrassingly long time since he was with someone that made him feel like a young boy in love again, but your every gesture, every sound coming out of your mouth and every day he got to spend with you was just a confirmation of how lucky he was to have you.

Even now, as you were kissing him slowly and without any rush, he felt butterflies fluttering in his stomach. But while they initially appeared from the happiness and giddiness you were causing in him, the longer your hands wandered – and the longer his stayed uselessly at his sides – the worse and more stressed he felt.

“You know you can touch me, right?” you asked playfully at last, and the pit in Joel’s stomach grew almost tenfold in size. “It’s highly encouraged, actually.”

There was an actual question in your voice, which made him feel even worse. He should’ve known you’d address it eventually – after all, nothing went past you – but it still felt so awfully embarrassing to admit it to you. He was an old man, but felt like an inexperienced teenager who didn’t know how to make a woman feel good.

You moved to kiss him again when he didn’t answer, too lost in his own thoughts, but on instinct Joel pulled back – actually ducked – out of your reach. Immediately regret painted his face at the rejected look in your eyes, and he started to rake his mind in search for something he could do to fix it, but nothing came to him. He knew what you’d want from him – you’d forgive him if he took your face in his hands, kissed you with all his strength, let you know that you did nothing wrong… but it made him nervous just thinking about it, let alone do it.

“Sorry,” he quickly muttered. “I didn’t– didn’t mean to… I’m sorry.”

“Hey, look at me… What’s wrong?” You brushed some hair out of his forehead and Joel exhaled shakily, feeling weak in the knees at your touch. “Talk to me, baby. Did I do something?” Joel shook his head and you pressed your lips together. “Did something happen, then?”

“No.” He shook his head quickly, but he avoided your eyes. “No. Nothin’.”

“Joel…”

The room got too stuffy all of the sudden, the shirt on his back too tight and your body too heavy on his lap. Joel knew he was panicking over nothing, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t want you to see him like this, so unsure and embarrassed over his own insecurity and behavior… So he gently removed you from his lap and stood up from the couch.

“Sorry, I gotta… I need some air. I’ll be right back, alrigh’?”

“Joel.”

No ‘baby’. No ‘handsome’. The tone of your voice made him stop dead in his tracks, and he turned around to meet your sad, solemn eyes.

“Just tell me if you don’t want me anymore.”

Your voice, so small and weak, took him off-guard and for a couple of seconds Joel wasn’t sure if you really said that, or if it was just his imagination playing cruel tricks on him. He blinked several times, but you were still in front of him, sad and… oh, god, you were on the verge of tears.

“What?” He couldn’t help a curt, disbelieving chuckle that escaped him – which was a terrible reaction, he realized when you turned your head away from him. “I– I don’t understand.”

“You don’t ever want to touch me first.” You let out a shuddering breath and lifted your arm to wipe your eyes, and Joel realized with mortification that he fucking made you cry. “And when you do it’s only when I initiate it, but sometimes you just pull back and it… it makes me feel so unwanted. And I know I might come off as too clingy…”

“Hey, none of that.” Joel quickly made his way to you and sat back down, gazing at you with his brows furrowed in worry. Your face was tearstained already and you avoided looking at him, but didn’t pull back when he took your hand gently in his. “Darlin’...”

“Just tell me if it doesn’t work for you,” you breathed, your voice thick with tears which also welled up in your pretty eyes again. “I hate not knowing if I… if our relationship makes you happy.”

“Of course I’m happy, babygirl.” Joel lifted your hand as if to kiss it, but hesitated. He had half a mind to draw back, but you needed him now, and he needed to prove that he really loved you. So, tentatively, he pressed his inexperienced lips to your fingers, making you look up with suspicion dancing in your irises. “You make me the happiest I’ve ever felt.”

“You’re pretending.” The quiet accusation combined with you withdrawing your hand caused Joel’s heart to break and he opened his mouth to explain, but you didn’t give him a chance to. “I don’t want you to pretend now that I’m upset, I want– Joel, I need you to be honest and tell me if it isn’t working for you. You always move away when I try to hug you and during all this time we’ve been together I can count on one hand the number of times you kissed me first. I don’t…” you choked down a sob and a new wave of tears flew down your cheeks. “I don’t want to waste either of our time if that isn’t what you want. If I’m not what you want–”

“Sweetheart, you’re the only one I want,” Joel whispered with pain in his voice, moving so he could sit closer to you. “M’so very sorry that I wasn’t…” He searched for the right words, but everything felt flat on his tongue. “I’m sorry. For everythin’ I did that made you feel this way.”

“But why?” you asked pathetically, staring at him with defeat and sadness. “You never said anything and I wouldn’t try to touch you so much if you just told me you didn’t like it!”

“I do like it,” he cut you off with a firm tone, which caused you to stop abruptly. “I fuckin’– I love it when you touch me, darlin’. I’m dyin’ for you to keep doin’ it, but I…”

“You what?” you asked, softer this time, and Joel swallowed hard, nervous how you’ll react. But you had the right to know, so ultimately he pushed through his discomfort.

“I just don’t know what to do,” he finally settled on that. “I really, really love when you touch me, babygirl, no matter in what way.” He took another deep breath, bowing his head to look at his hands so that he didn’t have to face you. “But it’s been so long, damn decades, since I… since anyone touched me in the way you do. I never loved someone the way I love you. I’m very sorry, I just don’t know what I’m s’pposed to do… when someone…”

He trailed off, worried that he might break down and cry in front of you if he says another word, and he’d prefer to avoid it at all cost. The world outside was so harsh and cruel already, and you needed someone strong – a safe haven, a pillar you could lean on. He was that someone for everyone around him for the last twenty years, and even longer before the outbreak.

But it was so much different now. You made him feel safe and loved no matter what he could provide to you and it was almost scary how vulnerable he was becoming in your presence.

“...when someone cares for you?” you asked quietly. Joel nodded, and tears gathered in your eyes again, though now for a very different reason. “Oh, Joel…”

“M’sorry,” he whispered, his own vision also going misty. “I want to give you everythin’ you desire, darlin’. If you give me another chance, I promise I’ll try to…” He shook his head, defeated. “I don’t know. I’ll try to get past it.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” You scooted just a little closer and put your hand on his knee lightly. He looked up with anguish swimming in his brown eyes, not believing that you were still here and not already out of the door. You worried your lip between your teeth for a couple of seconds before inhaling deeply. “How about… I show you what to do? We can go as slow as you want.”

Joel slowly shook his head, not understanding. “...show me what?”

“You said you don’t really know what to do, right? So how about I show you exactly how… you know.” You smiled almost shyly, but it only caused Joel’s heart to beat even faster. “Where to put your hands.”

Joel was nodding before you even finished speaking.

It was embarrassing, really, how excited he got at this idea, but just the thought of your hands guiding his, demonstrating where and how to touch you, had him feeling weak in the knees and hot under his clothes. You smiled, almost with relief, and moved even closer until your thighs were touching.

“Here, just relax. We can stop at any time, just say a word,” you said soothingly, placing his palms on your hips and sending him a small smile. Joel wondered if you could see how red his face surely was, feel how sweaty his palms got. “Is this okay?”

“S’better than okay,” he breathed in something akin to wonder. “It’s easier… Everythin’ seems easier with you.” His chest was tight when he looked up at you. “Thank you.”

It wasn’t a lie. You did make it seem effortless, and though Joel could still feel the rigidness of his muscles and tendons, the tension was slowly melting away, replaced by a tingling warmth on his skin.

You gave him a reassuring smile and his eyes flickered to your lips almost involuntary. You noticed it, of course – Joel didn’t think he was exactly subtle with his staring – and cupped his jaw in your hands. His arm, practically instinctively, encircled your waist and pulled you closer before he could stop himself, but you didn’t berate him – in fact, you seemed delighted by his action.

“Now, are you going to kiss me or not?” you whispered coyly, brushing his cheekbones with the pads of your thumbs. Joel chuckled at your attempt to put him more at ease, but it worked and he leaned in to press – very, very carefully – his lips to yours. He felt you smiling against them and his eyes filled with tears from the overwhelming relief.

“I love you so much,” he murmured with his mouth only millimeters from yours. “So much, babygirl.”

You hummed a quiet love you, too, and moved your lips up to softly kiss his eyelids, then temple, then cheeks and nose. Joel almost wanted to cry when you started running your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp gently. It felt so good, your touch so nice and tender… He couldn’t remember when was the last time someone treated him with such care. Maybe never. “Next time it becomes too much, you tell me, got it? And I promise I’ll make you feel better.”

Your touch didn’t bother him now that he admitted what was weighing heavily on his chest for so long. Now, it felt soothing. Grounding.

So, so loving.

Joel held you closer, melting into your embrace, and claimed your lips in a soft – if not a bit shy – kiss.

There was nothing else he’d rather be doing tonight.

[schlattslambo]

bigger girls are better | schlatt 18+ part 3

a/n: here it is! the long awaited part 3!! its a bit different from what i usually write, but a lovely 🍓anon came into my inbox with a fantastic idea! so, this one’s dedicated to you bestie! thank you all so so much for the love on this fic! it means so so much and i hope you all love this part as much as i loved writing it!!

cw: sub!schlatt, mommydom!reader, praise, VERY light bondage, edging

————

it had been roughly four years since the party. you and jay have been going strong since, and you’ve discovered your love for cooking during the course of the relationship. jay loves your cooking and you’ve gotten pretty damn good at it, if you do say so yourself. cooking and baking for jay has been a daily occurrence, and since it’s nearing christmastime, you’re cooking like crazy. making cookies, cakes, and even trying your hand at fruit cake - jay’s idea so you can ‘prank’ ted with it.

“hey baby,” jay says with a smile and a kiss on the cheek. “that smells amazing.”

“thank you, love,” you reply, leaning into his kiss. “i’m almost done this batch.”

jay sticks his finger into the cookie dough, scooping a large bit into his mouth. you shake your head as you place parchment paper on the cookie sheet. this has been common, and sometimes you think of just making cookie dough specifically for jay to eat while you’re baking so he doesn’t eat everything.

“you’re gonna get sick if you keep doing that,” you laugh.

“haven’t gotten sick yet, toots.” jay says with a mouthful of cookie dough. “‘sides, your cookie dough is fantastic.”

being with jay has been a dream. he’s so loving and caring and basically worships the ground you walk on. your relationship came out about a year and a half in, when you accidentally brought jay cookies when he was streaming. his fans were quick to notice your figure in the doorway, and making fun of how red jay got.

he just waved you into the room and sat you in his lap. his chat was going crazy, and you watched as so many people called you beautiful. one smart ass in the chat told you to be careful, that you might break the chair, but jay banned them before you could even see the comment. he just wrapped his arms around you and rested his chin on your shoulder as you told everyone that you chill the cookies before baking them so they keep their shape.

your eyes drift over to jay, who’s leaning against the counter on his phone, other hand in the bowl of cookie dough. you smile. since dating you and trying all your recipes, jay’s put on some weight. not that you mind, of course. you’ve always loved bigger guys. seeing jay’s rounder cheeks and chubbier tummy nearly make you go feral, but you keep your hands to yourself.

“you excited for the party tonight?” you ask.

“oh yeah,” jay says. “me and ted are gonna do shots.”

you roll your eyes with a smile. “of course you are,” you tease. “just be careful baby.”

“i will,” jay smiles at you. “are you gonna wear that sweater that i got you?”

you nod. a few days ago, jay got you a cute red sweater for the christmas party. you had no christmas sweaters, so obviously jay had to help.

“good,” jay says, walking over and wrapping his arms around your waist. “you’re gonna look so fuckin’ good.”

a few hours later, you and jay walk into the bar. you’re wearing that pretty red sweater and some black leggings which hug the curves of your ass and thighs perfectly. jay leads you with his hand on the small of your back. his tie is a bit messed up and he’s running a hand through his hair. in the car, you had tried to keep your patience, but you jumped his bones in the parking lot.

jay always looked fantastic in a dress shirt and slacks. in tonight’s case, he was wearing a red dress shirt, a black tie, and black slacks. his hair was slightly gelled back and he put his aviators on. truthfully, you were about to say fuck the party and just go back home, but you knew how much jay was looking forward to it.

the annual chuckle christmas party was held at a bar this year, since tucker couldn’t find anything else at this time of year. you didn’t mind, mainly because you got to see your friends and spend time with jay. the group of you guys had a table reserved in the back, so you were able to sit down, but you had to grab your own drinks from the bar.

the party is amazing so far, with lots of good drinks and music. you can’t help but feel yourself get a little tipsy from the cocktails that ted bought you. he introduced you to espresso martinis and you just cannot get enough.

you get into a conversation with tucker at the bar while jay orders you both some more drinks. you don’t notice a drunk guy stumble up to the bar and strike up a conversation with your man because tucker said something that made you laugh.

“yo, bro, you gotta wear a bra or something,” the man says, making your ear twitch. “you got bigger tits than my girl.”

you glance to see what’s happening, but fully whip around when you see jay wrapping his arms around himself slightly. over the course of your relationship, you learned that jay may seem to have a hard exterior, but he’s really sensitive. it doesn’t help that he’s drunk right now. he takes everything to heart, even more so when he’s drunk. he’s emotional as it is.

“hey, can you fuck off?” you snap, stepping in front of jay.

“well hello there,” the man slurs. “what’s your name?”

“get fucking lost,” you snarl.

“whoa there, hot stuff,” the man puts his hands up in surrender. “i was just letting fatty back there know that he might need a bra.”

“do not talk to my boyfriend like that,” you growl. “i don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but you need to get lost.”

“oh, he’s your boyfriend?” the man laughs. “you gotta tell him to lose weight-“

he’s cut off by your palm connecting with his cheek. tucker’s eyes nearly pop out of his head as a red handprint blooms on the asshole’s cheek.

“leave!!” you yell, watching as the guy scrambles to leave as fast as possible.

you turn and look at jay. he’s looking down and messing with the buttons on his shirt. if there’s anything you know about jay when he gets like this, its that he needs to get right out of this situation.

“c’mon love,” you say softly to him, taking his hand. “lets go home.”

jay just nods quietly. you wave goodbye to everyone that you know and call an uber. thankfully, the ride home was quick and silent. jay had kept it together until you guys shut the door behind you. then you heard the sniffle that made your heart break.

you follow the trail of clothes as jay goes into the room that you two share. when you get there, he’s under the covers. you climb into bed and pull his head to your chest, not even caring that you’re still in the sparkly sweater. jay is quick to attach to you, wrapping his long limbs around you.

you run a hand through his hair, smiling softly as he leans into your touch.

“i got you baby,” you say softly. “i’m sorry that jerk didn’t know how to shut his mouth.”

when jay gets like this, clingy and sad, the best thing that you can do is hold him and tell him everything you love about him. which, frankly, is just about everything.

jay sighs in response, shaking his head. “you deserve someone better than me,” his voice comes out soft and broken.

if your heart wasn’t already broken, it would have shattered when he said this.

“jay,” you say, some firmness to your voice. “look at me.”

jay’s head lifts up slightly, your eyes connecting with his brown ones. a tear slides down jay’s cheek, getting lost somewhere in his mutton chops.

“you are an amazing, talented, hilarious, caring, and generous person,” you start. “you make sure everyone is always comfortable and will never eat once you’re sure that everyone else has eaten. you make everyone around you happier, especially me. you are my pookie and i love you forever.”

jay snorts at the nickname, a sad smile spreading across his face briefly before disappearing again.

“here,” you offer. “lay down on your back.”

jay does and you sit on his thighs, leaning over him. the action is quick to make him hard.

“you worship me all the time,” you whisper against his lips. “let me worship you, yeah?”

jay nods, his cock twitching in his pants as his face reddens. he lets out a pathetic little whine as your crotch brushes over his while you scoot up to kiss him. you cradle his face in your hands as you kiss him, allowing his arms to wrap around you. you only release his cheeks when his hands grip your ass firmly.

“ah ah,” you smile. “it’s my turn.”

jay nods and sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. “y-yes ma’am,”

you lift a brow. jay is often the one in charge in the bedroom, but whenever he decides to relinquish his place, he makes sure to address you properly.

“m-mommy,” he corrects, making you smile.

you move down to his neck, hands going up underneath his shirt. jay tenses a bit but relaxes when you don’t take your hands away. you lift his shirt up just a bit but he stops you.

“d-don’t take my shirt off please,” jay mumbles against you.

“why’s that?” you ask, pulling away ever so slightly to look into his eyes.

“‘m fat,” jay replies.

“no you aren’t,” you say gently. “besides, i’ve seen you without a shirt so many times, and it’ll be a bit hard to worship you like you worship me with your clothes on.”

with a reassuring smile, you sit back on your heels. jay slips his shirt off and his arms wrap around his midsection.

“nope,” you say, grabbing his tie that sits on the bed. “hands, please.”

jay doesn’t protest as you tie his wrists together. he places his hands behind his head as you smile.

“good boy,” you praise, running your hand down the center of his chest. “let mommy show you how much she loves you.”

you lean down, kissing from his neck to his collarbone, nipping at his skin as he hisses in pleasure. jay loves being bitten, no matter where he sits on the dom/sub scale, so you’re enjoying this nearly as much as he is. your kisses trail lower, down to his chest and along his side.

jay’s cock is pressing hard against his zipper now, and he’s not sure how much longer he’ll last. pleads are on the tip of his tongue, but he knows not to push his luck. he is loving the attention, even if he’s still fighting the insecure feelings from earlier.

“fuck,” jay whines as your hand goes to his bulge. his hips twitch and you grin.

“sensitive today,” you tease, undoing his belt.

jay lifts his hips as you tug his pants off, squirming ever so slightly. he’s painfully hard, his cock leaking onto the fabric of his gray boxers. you lean down and kiss his stomach, down to his hips while your hand grips his cock gently.

the way jay reacts sets your core on fire. you waste no time in giving him open mouthed kisses over his boxers, and he watches you with pleasure adamant on his face. every time your mouth touches his cock over his boxers, it twitches and he gasps.

“please,” he chokes out. “i-i don’t know how much longer i can last.”

without a word, you tug his boxers down to his ankles. his pants and boxers are acting as a restraint while he tugs at the tie holding his wrists together. he knows better than to move his arms from behind his head. jay’s cock is uncut, the pink head peeking out from his foreskin. you spit in your palm which makes jay groan.

he watches you with teary eyes, holding back his orgasm the best he can. he nearly cums when your tongue flicks on the head of his cock as it pops out from his foreskin. you twist your hand as you stroke him, his hips grinding pathetically in time with your hand. you can tell that he’s getting close.

“now tell me,” you muse. “who’s my handsome boy?”

jay’s face nearly matches your sweater. he’s terrible at taking compliments, so you reward him with an orgasm if he replies to your praise.

“a-ah,” jay squirms, looking away.

“c’mon,” you urge.

“d-dunno,”

your hand leaves his cock and it twitches angrily. jay was right on the edge and you brought him back down to earth. your hand goes back to his cock, your finger swiping along his slit. your other hand massages his balls. he arches his back.

“tell me,” you warn. “or you won’t finish.”

“m-me!” jay breathes. “i-i’m your good, handsome boy!”

“that’s my good boy,” you praise. “go ahead and cum for me.”

thick, white spurts of cum shoot from jay’s cock as it twitches in your hand. you stroke him through his orgasm and only stop when he softens in your hands. you gently untie jay’s wrists as he takes them out from behind his head.

you get yanked down to him in a kiss that takes your breath away. it says everything that jay can’t in his post-orgasm haze: that you’re amazing, he’s never felt so good, and that he loves you more than anything in the entire world. he loves you forever and ever, and then some.

[amethystarachnid]

CHRISTMAS PROPOSAL

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Request: Fantastic event 😍 I want to make a request for Fem reader + Tony Stark, please! "Christmas morning surprise", breakfast in bed made by Tony, a surprise gift: Tony proposing the reader and saying the most beautiful things and cuddling by the tree later, drinking hot cocoa 😍 (@heygoodgirly)

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 4.8k

ᯓ★ Summary: Tony Stark has never been one for romantic things but for you, oh, for you he'd become the most romantic man on earth. And that's exactly what he's trying to be as he gets ready to pop the question

ᯓ★ TW(s): fluff fluff fluff

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The morning light spills softly through the gaps in the curtains, painting warm streaks of gold across the bedroom. You’re cocooned in the blankets, your face nestled into the pillow, completely oblivious to the world. For once, there’s no sound of the whirring gadgets or the mechanical hum of some early-morning project Tony’s working on in his lab. The quiet feels suspicious. But you don’t wake, not yet.

Downstairs, the man himself is pacing. Stark Tower—or what’s now become a semi-permanent Stark-and-You Tower—is unusually serene, save for the sound of Tony muttering to himself. In the kitchen, an array of utensils clutters the countertop. Pots, pans, and a suspiciously stained cutting board bear evidence of an attempt at cooking. Actual cooking. Not JARVIS ordering the latest Michelin-starred meal.

“Okay, okay, just… flip it gently,” Tony says under his breath, staring down a pan like it’s a volatile science experiment. His hair is a mess, and there’s a smear of flour on his cheek that he hasn’t noticed yet. “How hard can eggs be? They’re just tiny little things. People do this every day.”

The spatula makes contact, but predictably, the omelet doesn't cooperate. It folds awkwardly, and a piece flops onto the burner. Tony groans, his free hand tugging at his hair.

“Yeah, this is going great. Real Gordon Ramsay stuff here.” His voice is dripping with sarcasm as he glares at the breakfast carnage. He pauses, tapping his fingers against the counter, before grabbing another egg and cracking it into a fresh bowl. “She better appreciate this. Slaving away like a 1950s housewife… minus the pearls. Or the misogyny.”

JARVIS chimes in unprompted. “Might I suggest using a lower heat setting, sir? You appear to be—”

“No, no, no. I got this, J. Do not swoop in with your fancy AI advice. This is a Tony Stark original, and I’ll be damned if technology fixes my… whatever this is.”

“As you wish,” JARVIS replies smoothly, the slightest hint of amusement in his tone.

Tony manages to plate something passable, a mixture of eggs, toast, and fruit that—miraculously—looks edible. He surveys his handiwork with a critical eye, then lets out a huff. “If this doesn’t scream ‘romantic Christmas breakfast,’ I don’t know what does.”

There’s a small box tucked into the pocket of his sweatpants, a box that has no business being near sizzling pans or flour-covered counters. He knows better. He’s Tony Stark, after all. Precision is his thing—normally. But today? He feels like a live wire, energy sparking unpredictably under his skin.

“Okay. Breakfast first. Then the thing. Easy.” He picks up the tray and heads for the stairs, deliberately ignoring the persistent flutter in his chest.

The bedroom is still quiet when he pushes the door open with his shoulder, the tray balanced precariously in his hands. You’re exactly where he left you, sprawled under the covers with one arm flung lazily over your head. The sight makes his lips quirk into a crooked smile, the kind he reserves for moments no one else gets to see.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he says, his voice low but teasing. “Or should I say Sleeping Beast? You snore, you know.”

You stir slightly, mumbling something incoherent, and he snickers. “I’ll take that as a ‘good morning, Tony. Thanks for the breakfast-in-bed surprise. You’re the best boyfriend in the known universe.’” He sets the tray down on the nightstand and leans over to press a kiss to your temple. “I know, I know. I’m amazing.”

You blink awake slowly, your eyes adjusting to the soft light. “What…?” Your voice is thick with sleep, and you prop yourself up on one elbow, squinting at him. “What are you doing?”

“Delivering five-star cuisine,” he says, gesturing grandly at the tray. “Emphasis on the ‘five.’ I wouldn’t check the Yelp reviews if I were you.”

Your gaze shifts to the tray, and a small laugh escapes your lips. “You… made this?”

“Shockingly, yes. With these very hands.” He holds them up for emphasis. “And I only started one tiny grease fire, which I think is a personal record.”

You sit up more fully now, the blankets pooling around your waist. “Why? What’s the occasion?”

Tony shrugs, leaning casually against the bedpost, though there’s nothing casual about the way his heart thuds at your question. “Can’t a guy just do something nice for his girlfriend without getting the third degree? It’s Christmas, in case you forgot. Figured I’d play Santa and spoil you a little.”

Your smile softens, and you reach for the coffee mug on the tray. “You’re full of surprises, Stark.”

“That’s what they say,” he replies, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching as you take a sip of the coffee. He’s relieved when you don’t grimace. Coffee, at least, is one thing he knows he can’t mess up.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” you say, picking up a fork and spearing a piece of toast.

“Of course I did,” he retorts. “You’re lucky I didn’t bring out a violinist for ambiance. Thought about it. Decided it was too much.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, here you are. Voluntarily waking up next to me every day. Who’s the ridiculous one now?”

There’s a comfortable rhythm to your banter, one that makes the rest of the world fade away. He watches you eat, his expression softening when you’re not looking. Every now and then, you catch him staring, and he brushes it off with a quick quip or a self-deprecating joke, but the truth is, he’s just… captivated.

He’s done a lot of big things in his life. Saved the world, built a legacy, even cheated death a couple of times. But this—sitting here with you, on a lazy Christmas morning—is one of those rare moments that feels monumental in its simplicity.

Tony taps his fingers against his knee, his mind racing even as he tries to keep the conversation light. He’s thinking about the box in his pocket, about the way your eyes will light up when you see what’s inside. He’s thinking about how terrifying and exhilarating it is to want something so deeply, to want you forever.

“So, on a scale of one to ten,” he says, breaking the silence, “how would you rate the masterpiece I just served you? Be honest. But remember, I have an ego to protect.”

You tilt your head, pretending to deliberate. “Hmm… solid eight. Maybe eight-point-five.”

“Eight-point-five?” he echoes, feigning offense. “What, did the toast offend you?”

“It’s a little… uneven,” you tease, holding up a slightly charred edge. “But I’ll let it slide.”

He rolls his eyes dramatically. “Unbelievable. This is the thanks I get.”

Leaning closer, you kiss the corner of his mouth, a soft and lingering gesture that immediately shuts him up. When you pull back, your grin is mischievous. “Better?”

“Marginally,” he mutters, though his smirk gives him away.

You settle back against the pillows, the tray balanced carefully on your lap. Tony leans on one arm, his gaze drifting over your face as you savor the last bites of breakfast. He’s nervous, though he’d never admit it out loud. Not yet. He wants to do this right—to give you a memory you’ll carry with you forever. But more than that, he wants you to know just how much you mean to him, even if he’s not always the best at saying it.

For now, though, he keeps it light, keeps it normal. There’s time. At least, he hopes there’s time.

“By the way,” he says, his voice tinged with mock seriousness, “you’re washing the dishes.”

Your laughter fills the room, and for a moment, all his nerves fade away.

The warmth of the room is a cocoon against the chill of the winter morning outside, and you’re tangled in each other, limbs intertwined and bodies pressed close beneath the covers. The breakfast tray is forgotten, pushed aside to make room for this: the kind of quiet intimacy that feels like a luxury. Tony’s arm is draped over your waist, his thumb absently brushing along the curve of your hip as if he’s memorizing the feel of you.

His voice is soft when he speaks, carrying none of the usual bravado. “Y’know, if I could freeze time, I’d keep us here. Just like this.”

You hum contentedly, your cheek resting against his chest, where the steady thrum of his heartbeat feels like a secret melody. “I wouldn’t mind that,” you murmur, tilting your face to meet his gaze. His brown eyes are warm and intent, studying you like you’re a puzzle he never wants to solve.

The comfortable silence stretches, broken only by the faint sound of the city beyond the windows. But then, a sudden thought strikes you, and you sit up slightly, your hair mussed from sleep and your eyes sparkling with realization.

“Wait,” you say, breaking the spell. “We still have to open gifts. It’s Christmas morning, remember?”

Tony groans dramatically, flopping back against the pillows as though you’ve just suggested something truly exhausting. “Oh, come on, can’t we stay in bed for a few more hours? Maybe the gifts will open themselves.”

You laugh, wriggling free from his hold, but he’s faster. Before you can fully escape, his arms wrap around you, pulling you back down onto the mattress. You let out a playful squeal, but he doesn’t relent.

“Tony!” you protest, though you’re grinning. “The gifts—”

“Can wait,” he says firmly, his hands settling at your waist to keep you firmly in place. His voice softens, turning almost serious as his eyes meet yours. “Besides, I’ve got something more important right here.”

His tone makes you pause, your smile faltering for just a second as you study him. There’s something in his expression—a mix of vulnerability and determination—that you don’t see often. It sends a flutter through your chest, though you can’t quite put your finger on why.

“More important than presents?” you tease, trying to lighten the mood. “That doesn’t sound like the Tony Stark I know.”

“The Tony Stark you know has layers,” he quips, though his usual sarcasm feels gentler now, like a shield he’s only half-raising. His hands find yours, lacing your fingers together, and he takes a deep breath before speaking again.

“Look, I had this whole plan,” he begins, his words coming quickly now, like he’s worried he might lose his nerve. “Candles, music, maybe even fireworks—because, y’know, I’m me. But then I realized… all of that stuff doesn’t really matter, does it?”

You blink at him, your brows knitting together in confusion. “Tony, what are you—?”

“Shh,” he cuts you off gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Let me do this, okay? Just… let me get it out before I explode or short-circuit or something.”

Your heart is racing now, a mix of anticipation and disbelief. You nod, unable to find your voice.

“I’ve been a lot of things in my life,” he says, his gaze unwavering. “A genius, a billionaire, a total pain in the ass. But with you, it’s different. You make me want to be better. Hell, you make me better. And it’s not just the big stuff—though saving the world is a hell of a lot easier when I know you’re waiting for me to come home. It’s the little things, too. The way you laugh at my stupid jokes, or how you somehow manage to make this place feel like an actual home.”

His voice wavers slightly, and he swallows hard, his grip on your hands tightening. “I used to think I had everything I needed. The cars, the suits, the fancy tech. But then you came along, and suddenly none of that mattered. Because you… you’re my everything. And I don’t want to waste another second pretending I don’t know that.”

Your breath catches as he shifts slightly, pulling a small box from the pocket of his sweatpants. He holds it up, his hand trembling just enough for you to notice.

“I’m not great at this kind of thing,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I know one thing for sure: I don’t want to wake up another day without knowing you’re mine. So, will you—?”

“Tony,” you interrupt, your own voice trembling now. You press a hand to your mouth, overwhelmed by the flood of emotions surging through you.

His face falls slightly, panic flashing in his eyes. “Oh, no. Is this a bad time? Did I—? I should’ve waited, shouldn’t I? Or maybe done the whole fireworks thing. Damn it, I knew I should’ve—”

“No, no, it’s not that,” you say quickly, though your tone is teasing now, even as tears glisten in your eyes. You let out a shaky laugh, leaning back slightly as if considering. “I don’t know, Tony… this is a pretty big decision. I mean, are you really sure you can handle me forever?”

He stares at you, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “What—? Of course, I’m sure! Are you seriously asking if I—?”

“I mean,” you continue, biting back a grin, “I do snore, apparently. And I’m not great at remembering where I put my keys. Plus, I make you watch all those sappy holiday movies—”

“Yes!” he blurts out, his voice a mix of exasperation and desperation. “Yes, I can handle all of that. Hell, I’d watch ‘Love, Actually’ on repeat for the rest of my life if it means you’ll say yes. Just—please. Don’t make me beg. I’m Tony Stark, for God’s sake.”

You can’t hold it in any longer. The laughter bubbles out of you, and you reach up to cup his face, your thumbs brushing over his stubble. “You’re such a dork,” you whisper, leaning in until your foreheads touch. “Of course, I’ll marry you.”

For a moment, Tony just stares at you, his brain clearly struggling to process your words. Then, his face breaks into a grin so wide it’s almost boyish, and he lets out a breathless laugh, relief washing over him like a tidal wave.

“You’re really saying yes?” he asks, as if he can’t quite believe it. “You’re not messing with me, right? Because if this is some elaborate joke—”

“I’m not messing with you,” you assure him, your own smile mirroring his. “I’m saying yes, Tony. A thousand times yes.”

He doesn’t wait another second. His arms wrap around you, pulling you into a kiss that’s both fervent and tender, a kiss that feels like a promise. When you finally pull away, both of you are breathless, your foreheads still pressed together.

“Merry Christmas,” he murmurs, his voice soft and full of wonder.

“Merry Christmas,” you reply, your fingers tangling in his hair as you kiss him again.

The massive tree in the corner of the penthouse sparkles like something out of a holiday dream, its glittering ornaments and twinkling lights casting a warm, golden glow over the room. The fireplace crackles softly, and the faint sound of holiday music hums in the background, setting the perfect cozy scene. You’re curled up on the plush couch, nestled into Tony’s side, a thick blanket draped over both of you. Your legs are tangled together, and in your hands is a mug of steaming hot cocoa, its sweetness enhanced by the swirl of whipped cream and the faintest hint of peppermint.

You glance at the tree, then at the pile of opened gifts scattered around the room. Wrapping paper is crumpled in corners, bows are tossed aside, and the faint smell of pine from the tree mingles with the chocolatey aroma of your drinks. But none of that holds your attention for long.

Your eyes drift down to your left hand, where the delicate engagement ring Tony slipped onto your finger just a little while ago catches the firelight. The diamond—a perfect, understated yet dazzling stone—is framed by a sleek, modern band that feels so you it’s uncanny.

“I still can’t believe this,” you murmur, holding your hand up slightly to admire the ring again. “It’s perfect. The size, the design… it’s like you read my mind.”

Tony smirks, taking a sip of his cocoa before setting the mug on the coffee table. “Please. You think I’d propose to you without doing my homework first? I might be reckless, but I’m not stupid.”

You turn to him, one brow raised in playful skepticism. “Homework? Is that what you’re calling it?”

“Absolutely,” he says, his tone teasing but with a glint of pride in his eyes. “I had spreadsheets. Diagrams. A whole team of—”

“Tony!” you cut him off, laughing as you swat at his chest. “You did not have a team.”

“Fine,” he relents, grinning. “But I did pay attention. All those times you casually pointed out rings in magazine ads or that one time you dragged me past Tiffany’s and sighed at the window display? Let’s just say I’ve been taking notes.”

You shake your head, marveling at him. “And the size? How did you get that right? Don’t tell me you measured my finger while I was sleeping or something creepy like that.”

Tony’s grin widens, and there’s a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “Would you believe me if I said I have a natural talent for guessing ring sizes?”

“No.”

“Fair enough,” he concedes. “I may or may not have borrowed one of your rings when you weren’t looking. For research purposes.”

“Research purposes,” you repeat, your voice dripping with amusement. “Wow, I didn’t realize getting engaged to you would involve so much corporate espionage.”

“Hey,” he says, feigning indignation, “it worked, didn’t it? Look at that ring. Perfect fit, perfect style… just like the woman wearing it.”

The sincerity in his last words catches you off guard, and your playful retort dies on your lips. Instead, you feel a warmth spreading through your chest, a kind of joy so profound it’s almost overwhelming.

“You’re really something, you know that?” you say softly, setting your mug down so you can turn toward him fully.

Tony leans back slightly, a cocky grin on his face. “Something amazing, I hope.”

“Something infuriating,” you tease, your fingers brushing over the stubble along his jaw. “But yeah… amazing too.”

His grin softens into something more genuine, and he cups your face with one hand, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek. “You make it easy, you know. Wanting to get this stuff right. You deserve it, all of it. The ring, the world, the whole damn galaxy if I could give it to you.”

You feel your throat tighten, and you lean into his touch, pressing a kiss to his palm. “I don’t need the galaxy, Tony. I just need you.”

There’s a flicker of something vulnerable in his expression, a glimpse of the man who hides beneath the sarcasm and the bravado. He leans in to kiss you, a slow and tender kiss that feels like a promise, like the future you’re both stepping into together.

When you pull back, you settle against his chest again, letting out a contented sigh. “So,” you say after a moment, your voice light, “what’s your favorite gift so far? Besides me saying yes, obviously.”

“Obviously,” he echoes, smirking as he runs his fingers through your hair. “That’s number one by a mile. But if I had to pick something else… I’d say the socks.”

You blink, confused. “The socks?”

“Yeah,” he says, nodding seriously. “You know, the ones with my face on them? Absolute game-changer.”

You laugh so hard you nearly spill your cocoa. “I knew you’d love those. Happy to know they rival the engagement ring.”

“Well, they don’t exactly rival the ring,” he admits, his tone turning thoughtful. “But they do add a certain… flair to my wardrobe. Can’t wait to wear them to the next board meeting.”

You groan, burying your face in his chest. “Please don’t.”

“No promises,” he says, kissing the top of your head.

You’re quiet for a while after that, the two of you simply enjoying the warmth and comfort of being together. The fire crackles softly, and the snow outside begins to fall more heavily, blanketing the city in a shimmering white coat. You watch it through the enormous windows, your head still resting against Tony’s shoulder.

“I think this might be my favorite Christmas ever,” you say after a while, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Only might?” Tony quips, though there’s a softness to his tone. “What do I have to do to make it the undisputed champ?”

“Hmm,” you pretend to think, holding up your hand again to admire the ring. “You’ve set the bar pretty high, Stark. Proposing and getting me the perfect ring? You might’ve peaked.”

“Peaked?” he repeats, feigning offense. “Please. This is just the beginning. Wait until next Christmas. I’ll have holographic wrapping paper and drones delivering your presents.”

You roll your eyes, laughing. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he says, tightening his hold on you, “you said yes.”

You smile, snuggling closer to him, and let your eyes drift shut. The weight of the moment settles over you like the warmest of blankets, and for the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

Neither of you speaks for a while, content to simply be. The snow falls outside, the fire burns low, and the city below buzzes quietly with life. But up here, in this little corner of the universe, it’s just the two of you—and that’s more than enough.

The fire crackles softly in the background as you nestle further into Tony’s side, your legs draped lazily over his lap beneath the plush throw blanket. The mug of cocoa you abandoned earlier sits on the coffee table, now lukewarm, but neither of you has the energy or desire to move. The world beyond the enormous penthouse windows is a snow-covered wonderland, the city twinkling like something out of a postcard. But here, in Tony’s arms, the rest of the world feels like an afterthought.

You’re staring at your ring again—still unable to get over how perfectly it suits you—and twirling it gently on your finger. “I can’t believe we’re actually engaged,” you murmur, the words still foreign and thrilling all at once.

Tony hums, his fingers idly tracing patterns along your arm. “Yeah, well, it was bound to happen eventually. I’m a catch, after all.”

You snort, poking him in the ribs. “You’re lucky I love you, Stark. Otherwise, you’d be proposing to your ego.”

“Please,” he retorts, grinning. “My ego would’ve said no. Too much competition.”

Your laughter echoes warmly in the cozy space, and he pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “But seriously,” he continues, his voice softer now, “I’m the lucky one.”

The sincerity in his tone melts your teasing grin into a tender smile. “We’re both lucky,” you say, leaning up to kiss him briefly before settling back against him. “But now that you’ve got me locked down, we should probably start thinking about the next steps.”

Tony perks up at that, his eyebrows raising in mock surprise. “Next steps? Wow, didn’t realize we were rushing through the milestones. What’s next, matching sweatpants?”

“Don’t tempt me,” you tease, poking him again. “But seriously, we should start thinking about the wedding. You know, dates, locations, that kind of thing.”

“Oh, sure,” he says, waving a hand as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. “We’ll rent out a castle or something. Maybe a yacht. Or both. Castle on a yacht. I’ll make it happen.”

You roll your eyes, laughing. “Tony, we don’t need a castle on a yacht. I was thinking something more… intimate.”

“Intimate,” he repeats, like the word is entirely foreign to him. “Okay, define ‘intimate.’ Like… eighty people instead of eight hundred?”

“More like thirty,” you say, smirking at his dramatic gasp. “And maybe somewhere beautiful but low-key. A vineyard? A garden? Somewhere that doesn’t involve holographic invitations.”

Tony pouts, his bottom lip sticking out like a child denied dessert. “You’re no fun. I had this great idea for AI-driven seating charts.”

“Tony,” you groan, laughing as you swat his arm. “No AI at the wedding.”

“Fine, fine,” he concedes, though you can tell his brain is already whirring with ideas. “But we’re keeping the open bar. And there will be cake. A ridiculous amount of cake.”

“Deal,” you agree, grinning. “And maybe a live band? Something classic.”

“Classic, huh?” Tony muses, tilting his head as he considers. “Sinatra? Ella? Or are we talking ‘classic’ like… AC/DC?”

You laugh, burying your face in his shoulder. “I should’ve known you’d sneak AC/DC into this somehow.”

“Hey, it’s our wedding,” he says, his tone teasing but with a playful wink. “And by ‘our,’ I mean you’ll pick all the details, and I’ll just show up in a ridiculously expensive tux and look charming.”

You snuggle closer, your smile softening. “That’s all I really need, anyway.”

There’s a pause as the two of you settle into the quiet again, but you can feel Tony’s fingers fidgeting against your arm, a sure sign that his mind is still racing. You glance up at him, your brow raised. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Nothing,” he says quickly, though the sheepish look on his face betrays him.

“Tony,” you press, sitting up slightly. “Spill.”

He hesitates for a moment, his eyes darting toward the window as if searching for an escape. Finally, he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. It’s just… I was thinking. About… you know, after the wedding.”

“After the wedding?” you echo, tilting your head. “You mean the honeymoon?”

“Sure,” he says, though his tone is distracted. “But I was also thinking… further out. Like… a house. Or maybe—hypothetically—a kid. Or two.”

Your mouth drops open slightly, caught completely off guard. “You’re already thinking about kids?”

“Hypothetically!” he clarifies quickly, though there’s a nervous energy to his voice. “I mean, I’m just saying… it’s crossed my mind. Once or twice. Or, you know, a dozen times.”

You’re quiet for a moment, processing his words. Then, a slow smile spreads across your face, and you lean back against him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Tony Stark, are you saying you want to be a dad?”

He shifts uncomfortably, his cheeks tinged with the faintest hint of pink. “I’m saying… I wouldn’t hate the idea. I mean, think about it. A tiny human running around with your smarts and my charm? World domination is practically guaranteed.”

You laugh, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he says, grinning now, “you said yes.”

You shake your head, your heart swelling with affection. “I think you’d be a great dad, Tony. Once you figure out how to baby-proof all your gadgets.”

“Oh, please,” he scoffs, though his smile is genuine. “I’d invent a whole line of Stark-brand baby-proof tech. Patent it. Make billions.”

“Of course you would,” you say, rolling your eyes. “But maybe we should focus on the wedding first before we start planning our takeover of the parenting world.”

“Fair,” he concedes, pulling you closer. “But just so you know, I’m already brainstorming names. You should’ve heard the one I came up with yesterday. Absolute gold.”

“Oh no,” you groan, laughing again. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”

He leans in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Tony Junior. Think about it. T.J. for short.”

You burst out laughing, your head falling against his chest. “We are not naming our child Tony Junior.”

“Fine, fine,” he says, chuckling along with you. “We’ll workshop it.”

As your laughter fades, you settle against him again, your fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on his chest. The firelight dances across the room, casting shadows on the walls, and you feel a profound sense of peace, of rightness, in this moment.

“Hey,” you say softly after a while, looking up at him. “I love you.”

His expression softens, and he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I love you too.”

You smile, your hand drifting down to rest over his. “And for the record, I can’t wait for all of it. The wedding, the house, the future… everything. As long as it’s with you.”

Tony’s grin is slow and warm, and he wraps his arms around you like he never plans to let go. “Then it’s a deal.”

The two of you sit there for a long time after that, the snow falling steadily outside and the fire burning low. Together, you dream and plan and tease and laugh, painting the picture of a life that feels almost too perfect to be real. But with Tony by your side, you know it’s all possible—and more.

[cafe-mysa]

as fast as clockwork || freminet oneshot

title: as fast as clockwork day 3: accelerated heartbeat // kissing in the snow // "here, take my coat." // "let's hope the snow will make this christmas right." fandom: genshin impact character: freminet wc: 439 oneshot (credit to @12daysofchristmas for the prompt) !!content under the cut!! a/n why the FUCK did this take so long to write jesus christ i'm so sorry for the Very late submission.

just remember to breathe, freminet, lyney had told him minutes prior before slinking off with a sly wink.

they like you, so there's nothing to worry about, lynette added quietly, they'll like it, don't worry. you're good at what you do.

archons, his hands wouldn't stop shaking. all he wanted was to find his diver's helmet, shove it unceremoniously onto his head and crouch in the corner, unwilling to respond or talk to anyone. archons, he knew his rehearsed speech would go out the window - how did lyney do this all the time in front of hundreds of people including their archon? all he wanted to do was to dive into the ocean and find the deepest parts, ones that he was sure even neuvillette didn't know about.

"freminet?"

fuck.

"hello," his voice came out a lot higher than he intended, and he cringed internally, coughing into his fist, "h-hello..."

fantastic start, freminet, you bombed it.

"lyney said you wanted to give me something?"

fantastic.

fan-fucking-tastic.

he made a mental note to (accidentally) break the drainage pipes near lyney's room later.

(a little bit of little brother revenge never hurt anybody, after all.)

he hated everything about this.

he hated how clammy his hands were getting, how they were trembling, how he could feel his pulse fluttering as his hands not-so-subtly hid the gift behind his back.

"freminet?" you peered around him as he squeaked and shuffled away, turning away from you with a small frown.

very subtle.

"i did," he muttered, fiddling with the ribbon, clearing his throat again, "i did want to, ah, give you something, but-but it's-it may not be to-you may not like it."

just remember to breathe, freminet, his brother's damned words echoed in his brain as he cursed under his breath (easier said than done).

"i-"

they like you, so there's nothing to worry about, they'll like it, don't worry. you're good at what you do.

okay.

he could do this.

"i wanted to give you-the-"

well fuck.

"freminet, take your time," you beamed, slightly amused.

he really needed you to stop looking at him like that.

"you're not good for my heart," he muttered finally, reluctantly giving in and taking his hands out from behind his back, timidly showing you the mechanical penguin in your colour.

"aren't i?" you hummed, gently taking it and letting it rest in your hands (it fit perfectly, you noted), "i think i'm perfectly good for your heart."

"it shouldn't be beating this fast," he muttered, "it's not normal."

speaking of lyney...

"do you want me to teach you how to accidentally break a drainage pipe?"

[deepperplexity]

Prompt 19: A Helping Hand [OS]

Pairing: Snape x Fem!Reader

POV: Second, Reader

Setting: Snape Lives AU, set 19th of December 1999 roughly a month after Snape’s return home from the hospital and you have been in love with him for years, sending letters and gifts in secret.

A/N: I feel like we need one more Snape fic this year, don’t you? 🥰 Well, you better bloody well enjoy it ‘cus I damn near keeled over writing this long thing in one sitting - remind me why I keep doing this to myself? I’m short on time, tomorrow the Christmas celebrations start and go all the way until the 25th over here and I’ve been running myself ragged between my two jobs, sorting the house, writing for Rickmas and generally being a wife, a mom, and a human - with all the work that entails in and of itself 😂

Also, don’t be fooled by how sweetly this fic starts 👀

Tags/TW’s: Secret Pining, Teenage Crush Turned Love In Adulthood, Fear, Shortly Mentions [horrible nightmares / fear for another’s safety / violence / blood / slight gore / painful past / terrible history / the war / the dark lord / wanting to die / hospital stay / scars], Shame, Guilt, Going Into Hiding, Embarrassment, Sadness, Mind Reading (Legilimens), Confessions

Abbr.: Y/N - Your Name | Y/L/N - your Last Name

Word Count: 4.2k

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

A Helping Hand

This is fantastic, what the bloody hell was I thinking?! The black door with chipped paint loomed before you. It was an ordinary door, of regular height and width, yet it was so large and utterly imposing. I shouldn’t be here, why am I here? It’s not like he’s going to open the door and go ‘oh a Christmas star, how wonderful, come in, come in’, like, no… You adjusted your hold of the red flower in a too-small pot with a green satin ribbon tied at the top of it.

You shivered in the cold wind and your boots had turned slightly soggy with melted snow. They weren’t the best shoes for walking in snow but they were the finest pairs you had and matched perfectly with your dress and cloak of deep green with silver details.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, just knock, you idiot!” you hissed at yourself before drawing a steadying breath, reaching your hand up, and knocking far too lightly. It was more of a tapping than a knocking, really. But your hand was already clamped around the pot once more as your heart raced and pixies seemed to have a party in your stomach.

You sighed. This is stupid, he’s not going to open… It wasn’t your first attempt at contacting your previous professor. It had been a few years since you graduated, he might not even remember you despite the letters and gifts you had sent him through the years. The last two years you hadn’t dared to do so though. The world had gone too dark and the rumours of the man’s place as Voldemort’s number one follower hadn’t gone unnoticed.

One more time, you told yourself before reaching up to knock again. This time, a little harder even if it still sounded timid. You held onto the pot in a cramp-like manner as you waited with your heart in your throat and the growing party of pixies in your stomach turning into a rave.

The lock clicked. Then a chain rattled. Your eyes widened as you watched the handle turn and air seemed to evade you as the door slowly creaked open. There he was. Black hair, pale skin, frock and all — just how you remembered him. Almost.

He arched a brow, opening the door further as he found you standing one step down. His eyes went up and down, from your shoes to the Christmas Star flower and then to your face. “Miss Y/l/n?” he drawled, his voice more hoarse than you could remember. “P-professor,” you stammered, suddenly having no idea what to do now that he actually opened the door. “Not anymore,” he said harshly, but his tone wasn’t quite angry or the like. “What can I do for you, Miss Y/l/n?” he continued, his voice clipped and low.

You blinked. “Um, here—” you held out the flower, nearly shoving it into his arms “—it’s a Christmas Star, erh, flower for you,” you continued, feeling mortified as heat crept under your skin. “I can see what it is,” he drawled, looking from the flower to you with eyes betraying none of what he was thinking or feeling. “Why am I receiving it?” he continued. “I— Well, I thought I’d— You see, I— Um, well, yes, that’s a good question,” you rambled, turning warmer in your heavy cloak by the second. “Um, Merry Christmas,” you finally managed to force out while wishing the stone steps below would swallow you whole.

You hadn’t thought it would go like this, you hadn’t thought you’d lose any semblance of speech and thought by just seeing the man again. But, as usual, your teenage habit around the intimidatingly gorgeous man had you tongue-tied and unable to coherently say or think anything.

He was still gorgeous. More ravaged by harsh times, more distant than ever, and less fearsome yet more intimidating with the lack of feelings coming from him. Get yourself together! “Another gift,” he drawled, looking at the flower while he held the bottom of the pot in just one hand. “You have sent me quite a few.” You spluttered, dying of embarrassment it felt like. “I— Well, yes, I did… I’m sorry. Sorry, Professor, I shouldn’t have— and I shouldn’t have come now, you never opened before so I didn’t think you’d— No matter, I’ll leave. Um, Merry Christmas,” you rambled. “Yes, you said that already, miss.” “Oh, right, yes, right, I did. Sorry,” you whispered while burning up from the rushing of your pulse and the searing heat of embarrassment.

You turned to leave, rushing down the stairs without another word. “It’s slippery at the— Careful!” he shouted in a hoarse manner that could barely be classified as more than a murmur in the lone tone. But, it was too late. You flung your arms out, your feet sliding out from under you as you fell helplessly backwards. A crash resonated through the air and with barely a millisecond to spare you levitated in mid-air with your hair gracing the snow below.

You panted and heaved, completely still in the charm he had cast over you with no time to spare. The stone beneath could have cracked your skull, so adrenaline kept rushing through your body even though the danger was over. “T-Thank you,” you said in a stuttering exhale as he straightened you up. As soon as your feet hit the ground and his charm released you you shivered and drew in a deep breath to calm yourself.

“As accident-prone as I remember,” he murmured behind you. “Do you never learn, Y/n?” You turned, only to find him standing in the fully open doorway with the shattered pot and snapped flower at his feet. “Your gift,” you whispered, feeling your lips turn down in a saddened frown. “It took ages to grow that thing and make the pot,” you sighed to yourself. “You grew it?” he asked, making you look up from the mess. “Well, yes, I can’t give you store-bought flowers.” “Why?” he asked, making you scrunch your brows. “Why would anyone do such a thing?” “What do you mean? You saved the world, you must have gotten all kinds of flowers and gifts. I wanted mine to… be something else,” you admitted while looking at the snapped stem and scattered red petals. Your heart ached at the sight, all those months of work and magic you’d poured into it — gone.

Snape aimed his wand at the mess, not a word uttered but his brows scrunched. You sighed. “It can’t be mended…” He looked at you. “Magic?” You shook your head. “No, it can’t be fixed with magic… I grew it in… It doesn’t matter,” you whispered, brushing down your cloak to have something to do with your errant hands that wished to scoop up the broken pieces of your love at his feet. No amount of wand waving would be able to mend either flower or pot — they were impervious to any and all magic.

Snape looked at you, tilting his head ever so slightly before he waved his wand and the broken pieces flitted up into a levitating ball. “Come in,” he said and you damn near lost the capability to breathe. “W-What? Come-, come in? Into your home?” you asked, your voice nearly rude. He looked at you while standing half-turned in the doorway. “Or do not,” he simply stated before you lurched into action. “Slippery,” he reminded harshly and you slowed your climb up the stairs. Your heart and mind had no intention of slowing down though.

The door closed behind you and the gloom of a narrow hallway took over. The scent of him was overwhelming. Your mouth popped open at his back as he moved away from you, towards a door at the end leading to what appeared to be a shabby kitchen in a dull green with chequered flooring.

You scrambled out of your coat, in the gloom your dress glittered like a star-strewn sky and the silvery buckle of your waist-belt shimmered. I can do this, I can absolutely do this, this is what I wanted. Yet your hands shook and your entire body felt strung tightly as you used magic to dry your boots and the hem of your dress. You weren’t about to drag in slush and gravel into the man’s house.

With careful steps, you moved toward the open door where Snape stood by a small table only large enough to seat two people. The kitchen was gloomy as well, and it hadn’t escaped your notice that there were no decorations or hints of Christmas in the house. The man himself stood leant over the remnants of your shattered gift as you stepped up.

“Just throw it out,” you said quietly, despite how it hurt. “It’s rubbish—” “Don’t,” he snarled in that hoarse voice while throwing a harsh glare at you. “It is not rubbish.” You blinked. “Professor, it’s broken. Can’t be mended.” “It’s not Professor anymore,” he muttered. “Then, what do I call you?” He glanced at you, something swept over his features before his shoulders stiffened. “Severus, if you wish. Mr Snape if that is more to your liking.” “Your— I can call you… Severus?” you asked, stunned and floored and bewildered and, well, everything at the same time.

He didn’t reply. You both looked at the broken pot and flower in silence. All the months of work you’d put into it, gone. The endless hours you’d spent teaching yourself to do pottery by hand and the countless failed attempts — it had all been a waste. But, I knew it would be… Even if it hadn’t shattered it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. This was just selfish of me, my own need to tell him I... You couldn’t finish the thought, too many horrid memories crept up just thinking about it. All the tears, the ache in your heart and fear in your gut as times had grown dark years ago.

Severus straightened. “You stopped sending letters,” he said but kept his eyes on the mess atop the table. You looked up at his profile. “Well, yes… I…” You drew a steadying breath, readying yourself to be honest. “I got scared… I knew of your place beside Voldemort, and I suspected your place beside Dumbledore… I couldn’t imagine you ever truly being on the wrong side… But, they took family members, friends, people who—” People who mattered to others… And even if I know I don’t matter to you, they wouldn’t have known that given the letters and gifts…

“So, you read them..?” You almost didn’t want to hear the answer — either way, it would feel weird. He nodded, his hair falling forward. “Many times. You did not sign a single one until the very last, why?” You released a deep breath. “I… I never have and never will think I’m worthy of someone like you.” His eyes widened and he was about to speak but you rushed on. “Don’t worry, I’m not hurt by it. I understand,” you said with a dejected chuckle. “I’m just me, and I was your student, you know I’m nothing special, just average.” “That was many years ago, I only taught your last two years,” he said. The depth of his voice and its new raggedness had a shiver crawl down your spine.

You looked up at him, your arms crossed over your chest in a self-hug and your lips in a small smile both sad and soft in its nature. “Yes, quite, and from that time to now you’ve saved the world, protected children and adults, offered all of yourself with only loss of years to show for it I guess.” “Your point?” he drawled, a deeper darkness to his tone. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring that up, it must be painful for you.” This is going bloody well, absolutely fantastic, can I be more of a damn idiot?

He crossed his arms over his chest, too. Yet, in a harsher manner. “Your point,” he demanded and you instantly felt as if you were being scolded by your professor, a fantasy you were far too shy to ever admit to having had several times during your more lonely nights. “I have nothing, sir,” you whispered. “I’m nothing compared to you. I went into hiding, I didn’t even fight like so many did…” “You wrote of your fear,” he drawled and your shoulders drew upwards, toward your ears in shame. “You stayed alive. More people did that than those who fought against the Dark Lord in battle.” “I hid, I ran away to the north and… I was of no help,” you admitted with a forced smile to hide the shame within your heart.

He glared at you, but it didn’t feel like a glare out of anger. It still had you tensing even more though. How on earth you’d managed to get into such a deep conversation with the man of your dreams — and nightmares — you weren’t sure but you barely dared to breathe for fear of being kicked out of his home.

“War is a terrible thing,” he said quietly. “Many fought. Many lost their lives and loved ones, but more still fled or hid. Staying alive, there is no shame to it, Y/n. No shame.” His words were harsh, unyielding and said in a manner that had you believe he might be speaking equally for your and his benefit. He was still alive, too. “Yeah, maybe…” “No. You should not be ashamed for staying alive.” “One day, maybe I won’t be,” you admitted while a heaviness seemed to blanket the room.

Severus glanced from you to the broken pot and flower once more. “Perhaps a helping hand is all we need when times are the hardest,” he said in no more than a whisper. “Your letters… they were, important to me.” You gulped down a lump that had formed in your throat. “They were..?” “Yes.” He seemed to soften next to you. “I feared you had died, when it all stopped… Seeing your name in the last letter, I cannot tell you how it affected me when I realised no more would come.”

I affect him? You weren’t sure what to say to that. You hadn’t ever imagined that you meant anything to the brave man, yet here he stood and said the opposite. But perhaps it was more of a comfort thing, a friendship thing. You shivered, your shoulders shaking. It wasn’t any help that the house was quite chilly.

“Come,” he said, turning and leaving the kitchen before you had barely reacted. You stumbled after him with a final glance at the shattered love left on his little kitchen table. He led you into a sitting room while your mind kept spinning with questions of what he thought of you, what he felt, how much he had cared when he thought you had died. Don’t go there. You had imagined far too many times that he had met a slow, painful death. Far too many nightmares had forced you awake with a scream as his death and torture were featured within your own mind.

“Sit,” he said before flicking his wand to light the fireplace. “I shall bring some tea.” A wave of warmth washed over the room and the golden light of the flames had shadows dancing all around. “Tea? Oh, thank you,” you said in a shocked rush as you sat yourself down on the two-seat sofa. He disappeared out the doorway and you were left looking around the room with the growing memories of all the nights and days you had been a complete mess, absolutely in shambles, over the man whose house you were now in.

Your eyes zeroed in on the fire as you squeezed your own biceps. He was different from how you remembered him, both in a good and bad way. Despite the harrowing life he had led, he was still the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes upon, and despite the slight hint of a scar that shouldn’t be there at all at the very top of his throat and the hoarse voice, you found him perfect. He was darker, he was harsher and more reserved in his behaviour but he talked with you and there was something about him that hadn’t changed at all.

You squeezed your biceps again, the memories coming unfiltered of all those times you had cried yourself to sleep or woken up screaming in horror. Your head swam with images of a bloody Severus, of broken limbs and a twisted neck. Gurgling breaths and wheezing noises. You barely held onto reality and the roaring fire attempting to warm you. Being in his house, and seeing him again after all these years, kicked everything to the forefront and you couldn’t get a handle on your emotions or mind.

You drew a stuttering breath, closing your eyes to try and banish the horrors of the past as they multiplied — both false nightmares and memories of re-tellings in the news of Severus’s heroic actions that had only led him to experience pain and suffering for Merlin knew how long. Get it together, get it together, you told yourself over and over as you drowned in the raging flood released by the very realisation that it was all over — that he was safe. Out of reach, but safe and alive.

You jolted up from the sofa at the sound of porcelain breaking and scattering. “Severus?” you called out, your voice shrill and your heart in an uproar. “Severus?” you called again before rushing toward the kitchen, in the direction of the noise. But you stopped short in the hallway where he stood with open hands and a mess of broken teacups and steaming water at his feet.

He looked at you with ghastly pale skin and slightly heaving breaths. “Are— Severus, are you okay? What happened?” you asked while walking up toward him, your pain and fears from the past forgotten for a moment at the sight of him. “What… was that?” he asked in a dark whisper. “What was what?” you asked, spinning around to look down the hallway, was there something in the house? No, you couldn’t see anything. “There’s nothing there.”

You turned back toward Severus, his eyes eerily fixated on you. Then you felt it. A prodding sensation and a presence in your mind that wasn’t supposed to be there. “What are you—” Your temples strained and your hand flew up to your forehead. “That,” he snarled as you saw flickers of so many horrid memories revolving around him flash in your head as he scoured through it all. You couldn't push him out, his skill was too great. “S-stop,” you pleaded. “That’s private,” you continued while looking away from him.

Embarrassment, shame, hurt, it all filled your chest as he retreated from your mind and left a palpable void where he had been a second ago. “T-That’s private,” you whispered, holding back tears as your back curved under the weight of your shame. Severus had gone through literal hell for years on end where your imagination had only brushed the surface — yet it was more than you could handle and he had had to live through it all, and possibly far worse things than you could imagine. Your fear and anguish was false, and in the presence of true bravery and strength, you wished to vanish and never come out of hiding ever again.

“You cried, for me?” he asked, so quietly you could barely hear it. “Please, I’m ashamed enough as it is…” you whispered while turning your back on him to wipe away the tears refusing to stop now that they had begun to spill over. “Ashamed,” he said as if tasting the word for the first time. You tensed. “I’m sorry, I— I shouldn’t have come to see you,” you whispered while snivelling as quietly as you could. “I’m sorry,” you forced out before bolting toward the door with a suffocated cry, grabbing your cloak in passing before gripping the door’s handle and tugging.

It didn’t budge. You tugged again, twisting one way and then the other but it wouldn’t open. Let me out, please, please let me out. You couldn’t stand the shame, the fear, the unwanted longing you were filled with for the man behind you. Through all the pain, the fear, through everything, all you had wanted was to hold him tight and make sure he was safe. It was selfish, it was ridiculous, it was unrequited and a lost cause.

You snivelled and spluttered a cry. “Please, let me out,” you whimpered while tugging on the door again. “I can’t do this,” you cried quietly. But two large hands atop your shoulder had you gasping a breath as you were spun around in a rush, your back pushed against the unyielding door with strength you stood no chance against.

“You cried for me,” he whispered. You couldn’t look him in the eye. “I’m sorry.” A gusted breath fanned your face as he snarled. “No. You cannot be sorry for that,” he said with finality. “Do not apologise for caring enough to shed tears for an unwanted man.”

You glanced up through the tears, the view of him hazy despite how close his face was to yours. “I’m sorry,” you said again. “I’m so sorry.” “Don’t.” “I was useless,” you cried quietly. All the shame, the guilt, the pain welled up further. “Useless…” You snivelled and gripped your dress so harshly you could feel your nails through the fabric. His hands hardened around your trembling shoulders. “You cried for me,” he repeated — as if he was as stuck in his mind as you were.

You had no time to react before he sank before you, his knees thudding to the floor ominously as his hands slipped down your arms only to hold on to your wrists. “I thought you were dead,” he murmured with his face tilted toward the floor. “The letters, the gifts… I thought I had lost my chance,” he continued while his hands hardened to the point of pain around your wrists. But you felt him tremble, heard his voice waver, felt the coldness of sadness seep from him and into you.

“What chance?” you asked, barely able to breathe when he tilted his head back only to view you with tear-lined eyes. The onyx colour appeared black in the gloom. “To tell you…” “T-Tell me? W-What?” you managed to force out between snivelling breaths and clogging cries. “You matter to me. You… are important, to… me,” he said darkly and forcibly through gritted teeth as his hands clamped around your wrists and a bewildered look filled his eyes while the rest of him remained utterly harsh. “But I can’t be,” you whispered. “I did nothing.” “You saved me,” he snarled.

Your breath hitched as he tugged on your wrists, forcing you down on your knees before him. His hands gripped your shoulders anew, steadying you before you would have fallen face-first into his chest. “Your words saved me, your gestures, you have no idea what you did for me,” he ground out. “Do not think, for a second, you are useless, Y/n. If it weren’t for you… I am the one who should feel shame.” “What? No! You saved the world!” He glared at you. “Only barely.” “That doesn’t matter. You did it.” “Because of you. I could not… I could not fail when I thought you had died because of what the Dark Lord persisted for.” He was so calm in the next second. As if, somehow, he found control again while you spiralled and kept snivelling and whimpering cries.

Your body sagged under the weight of his words. “But, I am nothing to the world—” “You are important to me,” he interrupted. “And until you sent that card to St. Mungos, I had believed you dead — as I had wished to be.” “Severus, no, no,” you cried, instinctively reaching up to grasp at his chest. He allowed the touch, reaching around to pull you closer. “You saved the world, and then you saved me. All you had to do was stay alive, and you did. Nobody has a right to ask for anything more than that, yet, I will…”

You leaned back, a snivelling and trembling mess before him. He reached up and wiped your cheeks with the back of his chilly fingers even if the tears just kept on coming. “Let me know you, Y/n.” You held his gaze. “You know me better than anyone, what I told you in those letters are things I haven’t told anyone…” His eyes widened, his fingers tensed and then he pulled you closer by your waist. “Stay,” he said.

You buried your face in his chest, beyond emotional and out of control. You trembled and shook, your brain misfired and had you scrambling for the connection with your voice to speak the only word you wished. Instead, you cried into his chest and grasped at his clothes with clawing strength. He held you closer, his embrace firm and warm. “Stay. Gift me what I thought I had lost forever…” “A-and, w-what, is that..?” you said between snivels and rushed breaths. “You… A chance to be with the woman who saved the world through me…” It was too much, yet you managed to find your voice. “Never let go,” you whispered. “Never.”

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

A/N: Well, this made me emotional.

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[littlemessyjessi]

"The Holiday Imp": A Christmas Twilight Imagine: Emmett Cullen

A Twilight Holiday Imagine:  Emmett Cullen

Emmett Cullen x Plus Size Reader, Fem Identifying Reader because I just really like writing for women.  Nothing personal against male or genderfluid identifying.  I just think women are great and I like writing for women and I will do so as is my right because this is my Tumblr. No hard feelings if you don’t vibe with it.  Have a scroll on and I hope you have a great day.   

Holiday/Christmas Themed Imagine 

Use of Y/N because inclusivity.  

…..

The entirety of the Cullen family sat in the living area trying their best not to laugh as this human woman stood with a hip cocked out and an expression of ‘no damns to give’ on her face. 

The male in front of her who had caught her attention was taller than her, stronger than her, faster than her…. and also hopelessly in love with her.  

“Emmett, I am not doing this with you today.”  she said, sipping her hot chocolate from the festive little mug Esme had gotten her. 

Esme adored her and got her things she didn’t even ask for. 

If it even looked like something Y/N would like, it suddenly just showed up at her home with a note from ‘Mama Esme’. 

“Babe, come on. We can’t just take off to Gatlinburg. I mean, the sun..” 

“Emmett, first of all it’s December and when I checked the weather it was supposed to be overcast and colder than a well digger’s ass for the next two weeks anyway.” 

“Ok, but-” 

“ Second of all, my mission is to see the lights which will be at night. Sun problem solved.” 

“Alright, fine but-” 

“ And last of all, let’s not kid ourselves.  I’ll get happy with that Fenty highlighter that Rosie got me anyway and I’ll definitely outshine you, my love.   Literally.  You ever got a little overzealous with highlighter and made the fatal mistake of taking a photo with flash?” she sassed. 

“No, babe, I can’t say I have.” he deadpanned. 

“Uncultured swine.” she said, scrunching her nose at him.

“Babe!” he gasped. 

“I said it and I meant it!” 

“Children.” Carlisle said, trying his best not to laugh…. and failing. 

“Emmett, I am going to live out of my Dolly Parton Christmas fantasy with or without you.” she said. “I assumed that seeing as how you literally grew up in Gatlinburg this might be something that you wanted to share with your partner.  I would love to share it with you.  However, I do not NEED you to be present to live out of my Rock Candy Christmas fantasy.”  

This was a trap and he knew it. 

That grinch slipper tapping against the floor was his first indication. 

That sparkly red nail tapping against that glittery mug of cocoa was the next. 

His own mother was the nail in the coffin. 

“Well, Y/N honey, we could always make it a girls trip.” Esme said, giving Emmett a look of amusement over Y/N’s  shoulder. 

“You know what, Mama E.  I think that is a fantastic idea.” she said. “Holiday girls trip! Rosie, Bells, Alice? You in?” 

“I’m in!” Alice said. “Shopping Spree!” 

“Makeovers!” Rosalie gushed.

Emmett’s eyes narrowed. 

His ex wife turned best friend was definitely taking a little too much glee out of this.  

“We could even go dancing if you like.” suggested Bella… which shocked everyone. 

The clumsiness had left that woman the moment she became a vampire…but the adversion to social situations had not. 

However, Isabella Cullen took great delight in tormenting her brother in laws. 

Her husband, Edward, knew this and when Renesmee put in for wanting to go…. not only did he agree but …. 

“You know, now that you mention it… I think it would make a nice family holiday.” Edward smirked at his brother. 

He could see Emmett’s jaw ticking, teeth grinding together and he cursed him with every insult he could think of. 

“I’m in too.” said Jasper, easily picking up on Edward’s teasing nature. 

“Can Jake come too?” Renesmee asked to which Edward simply nodded distractly, far too entertained with Emmett’s glare. 

“Well, it’s settled then.” Carlisle said.  “It’ll be a family holiday in the mountains.” 

“You do realize that the moment we get there she’s going to insist we get all dressed up in those ridiculous pictures and take ‘old timey photos’, right?” he asked, not at all on board to play dress up.  

Y/N stared her boyfriend down and said, “Yes, I will.   And you know what?  We’re going to do it too.” 

Emmett said nothing as he stared at this woman wondering just where it was that she’d got the audacity to be this cute and this infuriating at the same time. 

“I’ve got someone on hold.” Alice said. “Do we all want to share a big cabin or should I see if they have separates?” 

Y/N didn’t bother answering as Esme and Carlisle joined Alice for the conversation. 

“You do realize that we have photos of us all in those ‘old timey’ clothes right?” Emmett pointed out. 

“Not with me in them.” Y/N said and Emmett deflated when he realized.  “And not with Bella or Renesmee or Jake. Listen, I realize that you have been around for a while now and that traditions might not mean a lot to you anymore but they sure as shit mean something to me.  They always have.  I came from very little in life but pictures were something that I could always do and free experiences like looking at holiday lights were something that I could do as a kid when I didn’t even have a car.  I just walked but it was magical.” 

Emmett’s gaze softened as he took her in for the first time. 

He’d gotten so caught up in thinking her being sassy was cute and then letting his competitive nature flair when she wouldn’t back down…. that he completely missed the warning signs here. 

He should’ve known that there was more to it when she was willing to go without him and do a girl’s trip. 

“Baby…” 

“You don’t have to but it would mean a lot to me.” she said.  “But if you’ve got trauma because you literally died there and your old life and family then hey, I get it.  I just-” 

“I don’t have trauma there.  Well, I guess I do but I worked through that a long time ago. You forget I’ve got years on you to have gotten through that.” he said, slowly stepping towards her and gathering her in his burly arms. 

She easily curled her soft, squishy body against him, happy to wind her arms around his neck. 

“Listen, Em.  Next year, I am literally taking the bite to hopefully spend all of eternity with you and I’m happy to do that.  However, neither one of us know if I’ll even survive that.” she spoke honestly and Emmett, despite not even needing to, swallowed hard at the thought.  “And I’ve made my peace with that.  I believe in God and he’s been my friend all my life.  If it doesn’t work out then I understand what that means and I’m ready for Jesus when he’s ready for me.  However, whether I do or whether I don’t…. I also know what that means for you.  I want us to have memories for you to look back one day.  Hopefully, it will be with me looking just as fabulous but having all the perks of superhuman bells and whistles but-” 

“Superhuman bells and whistles?” 

“Yes, now lemme finish.” 

Emmett chuckled and tucked her tighter into his arms but let her continue. 

“The point, Emmett Dale McCarty Cullen, is that I hope and pray that we’ll get to look at this pictures for centuries and centuries together but I also want you to be prepared in case it doesn’t go the way we planned.  You might not want to look at them for a while.  For years.  Decades maybe.  But some day, you are going to want them.  I know.  I’ve lost people.  I treasure some of the pictures I have and wish like hell that I had more because they’re all I have left.” she said, rubbing her thumb across his cheek where his dimple had appeared the moment she said his full name. 

He let loose a sigh, long and full of amusement at this sassy woman who he loved so much. 

He pressed his forehead against hers, “We’re getting our own cabin.”

“Deal!” She cheered before planting a massive kiss to his lips with enough ferocity that it had Emmett pulling her up into his arms and wrapping her legs around his torso. 

Emmett had a feeling that he would be picking glitter out of his hair for the next year… but the smile of her face made it worth it. 

With an extra tight squeeze he thought to himself, ‘Merry Christmas to me.’ 

The wheeze that came out of the woman in his arms brought him back to reality. 

“Babe! Cutting off oxygen! Losing air!” she gasped and he let go only to be smacked in the chest, “Don’t think making me pass out will get you out of this.  I have your whole family on board now.  This is happening and they’ll live forever.  If you kill me now to get out of Christmas Spirit then I will make sure to tell Alice with my last dying breath to NEVER let you live this down!” 

“Merry Christmas, babe.” he said with a peck to her lips. 

“Merry Christmas, baby.” she said and returned the kiss. “Now, let’s go.  We need to pack together.” 

“Why?” he whined. “Because, Emmett, I want our outfits to be coordinated for my pictures. If you don’t cooperate with me on this, and I’m going to quote Delia Deetz here, I will go insane and I will take you with me!” 

Emmett stared at her for a moment before scooping into his arms and heading up stairs. 

“Wait! My hot choccy!” 

“Here you go, sweetheart.” Esme said, handing her a fresh one.  “This one has caramel marshmallows and italian sweet cream.” 

“Esme, you are the love of my life, I swear.” she said. 

“Wow.” said Emmett, still holding the woman dramatically dangling from his arms.  “Am I chopped liver to you now?” 

“No, babe, you’re all beef.” she said. “Being as you’re so bull headed.” 

Emmett narrowed his eyes. 

Y/N smiled at him sweetly. 

And Esme just shook her head at them. 

“Try not to kill each other before we leave.  I would actually like some family pictures as well.” she said. 

“Mwuahaha.” 

Emmett furrowed his brows down at the woman in his arms, “Did you just cackle maniacally?” 

“I’d say it was more of an impish giggle but sure.” she grinned.  “Yeah, just call me The Holiday Imp.  I mean, I guess that could be Krampus but I’m going with it!” 

“She bosses me around, manipulates me, turns my family against me, uses me as her royal steed and then has the audacity to be this cute when she laughs at me evilly.  God, what have I done?  Is this a punishment?” he asked dramatically. 

“Be grateful and tell Jesus thank you.  At least I’m pretty and I give great cuddles.”  she sassed. 

“That is very true.” he said and leaned down to peck the tip of her nose.  “Thank you God for this gift that you have given me.” 

….. 

Hello, loves!  I hope you enjoy this holiday content! 

Hope ya’ll are having a great day! 

Love you. 

— 

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K, Love you, Bye!

[intothedysphoria]

Going from a social outcast to seemingly universally desired was a change that Billy found himself sorely lacking the capacity to deal with.

It felt like barely a year ago he was just the fat kid with the asshole dad. The kid who was more comfortable speaking Irish than English. The weird kid who couldn’t sit still in class and had “outbursts” that would leave a classroom completely overturned.

Now he’d lost weight (not by choice), had to speak English if he didn’t want to be uprooted for a third time and was supposedly taking his adderall post ADHD diagnosis. Neil was still an asshole but that would never change.

He was desirable now. A hot commodity. Had the approval of everyone apart from his own fucking dad.

In short, Billy was absolutely miserable.

He missed California a lot. He missed Belfast even more. He missed being fat. He missed his mam and grandad. He missed everything.

Showing any signs of weakness was how it started though. So Billy did what he always did. He adapted.

Harrington was weird. Taking the crown from him was almost too easy. For all the talk he’d been fed about King Steve, what Billy got was a teenager who couldn’t make eye contact, spent an hour reading two pages of a textbook and walked like a penguin when nobody was watching.

Good thing Billy didn’t mind weird.

The usual taunts didn’t really work. All it really achieved was getting Harrington flat on his back on the gym floor and that got Billy thinking about sex which wasn’t helpful.

Harrington just stared up at him with these big startled eyes. Like a damn deer. The pointed star he wore around his neck swayed as Billy let him up. Jewish maybe. Billy felt his hand unconsciously drift down towards his own pendant, the one his granny had given him.

The one that would help him find his way back home.

They fought within a week. Arsehole had Max holed up in a strangers house. It made Billy’s skin crawl just thinking about it. Especially after having to flirt with Karen Wheeler just to get any answers, All he could remember was that he was winning then the world started going black.

When he woke up there was a dead something in the fridge. He probably hadn’t woken up at all then. His body took that hint as a sign to collapse again.

He woke up again. A small woman with mousy brown hair and a nervous tic was cooking. Billy could hear The Clash drifting from another room. Christmas lights were scattered across the wall. It was the first place in Hawkins that had actually felt like home.

The woman’s name was Joyce. The house he’d found Harrington and Max and the nightmare in had been her house. She was dressed practically and smelled like paint and reminded him so much of his own mam that his heart hurt.

She was a good cook. The soup wasn’t like anything he’d ate before, probably Polish but it was fantastic. She asked if he wanted to stay the night. He said no.

Neil would be waiting. He always was.

Neil had burned the damn book. The one Billy had wrote when he was seven, colouring all the words in orange and white and green. It hurt more than any punch every could have.

He was under house arrest again. Only let out when Max needed a fucking taxi to a Christmas dance. Harrington was a couple of cars away, fussing over a boy of about thirteen who could have been his younger brother.

They weren’t biologically brothers. But Henderson was his cousin. So they were in spirit. Those were some of the things Billy learned from a few strained sentences of conversation.

He apologised in a way so Billy reluctantly returned one. Apparently he hadn’t realised how fucking dodgy he’d looked with Max.

Billy was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Neil kicked him out of the house on Christmas Day for hanging an Irish flag on his door. Billy went to the Byers. Joyce’s family didn’t exactly celebrate Christmas but she still gave him a present.

She gave him gorgeous Polish cakes which were fucking delicious and some of Jonathan’s old vinyls which he didn’t listen to anymore.

That day Billy discovered The Specials and tucked the vinyl under his weed stash in the Camaro boot. Somewhere Neil would never think to look.

Harrington was tolerable after Christmas break. Tolerable in an infuriating way because Billy still wanted to fuck him. The queerness wasn’t something he’d told anyone about though apart from Patrick McKinney so he kept those thoughts to himself.

He spent more time at the Byers, learned what Shabbat was, came out to Joyce in a flood of tears, kissed Harrington, wrote a letter back to Ireland for the first time in two years and made a plan to get the hell out of Hawkins Indiana.

Harrington managed to pass high school with a lot of bribery and tutoring and kissing at his place. Jesus but Harringtons house was a bloody mansion. Billy had spent his first eight years in a terraced shared accommodation where his entire extended family had lived. Harrington had five bathrooms and his own television. Not even in black and white.

Billy got his predicted mix of A’s and B’s so he was happy and spent most of the weekend post graduation floating on his back in the Harrington pool, beer in hand. He couldn’t afford to slack off completely though. So he got a summer job.

Working at the community pool was fine. As long as Billy didn’t think about the middle aged women staring at him like a piece of meat. Fucking perverts. Heather was fun though. Funny. The only lesbian he’d met in Hawkins apart from Buckley.

Neil had started acting even weirder than usual after a night Billy had slept over at his boyfriends. He’d taken to ice baths and Billy swore he’d seen the man drinking bleach. Ugh.

Max was pretty obviously freaked out though so Billy slowly phased her into spending most nights at the Byers or the Sinclairs or Steve’s. Susan wouldn’t budge. Something in Billy’s chest felt a bit sick about that.

The Fourth of July they were in the mall, the one Steve worked at. Something even more hellish than the thing in the fridge stood above them. And Neil just stood by with blank, hateful eyes and let it happen.

He died. Billy killed him. Stabbed him in the chest then the monster went away.

Steve was gripping his shoulders as he stood there, Neil’s blood on his jacket and he cried.

Susan left.

Social services took Max. Billy cried a lot that day. She was living with some family in Michigan. They promised to keep in touch.

Billy went to therapy twice a week. A guy from County Mayo who Billy trusted immediately.

There was no point really in Joyce adopting him as he was over eighteen. Besides she didn’t need to. Billy knew who his family were.

A letter came back from Belfast. Inviting both him and Steve back to his grandparents house. Steve had never left the US, had never really left the Midwest actually. Billy wanted to show him everything.

The years went by and Billy regained weight. He stopped speaking English as much and was determined to teach Steve Irish. He still sometimes forgot to take his adderall and had awful nightmares but Steve was there to make it better.

He was alive. And life was pretty ok.

[joelsfavouritegirl]

domestic young!joel headcanons (i wanna be his housewife)

. for joel, if the domesticity isn’t there, he might not wanna be in the relationship and i’m not kidding

. why do i think that? for one, he’s definitely the type of guy to have grown up in your average family-type-shit household; dad wakes the kids up, mom makes breakfast, everyone sits together at the table and eats and chats. i like imagining that joel and tommy actually have a really good relationship with their parents (fully functional family, wow). the second reason is because i think joel just wants to be with someone. i don’t mean be in the dating sense, but just coexist with someone. somewhere where he’s able to say ‘yeah, that’s my girl, and i go home to her every day/night, and we live/cook/clean together. i do shit around the house, she does shit around the house, and we’re damn happy the way it is’.

. so here’s the shit i think joel would adore doing with you (or js watching you do them, or doing them for you)<3

. cooking (i have to get this one out of the way first bc you alr know what i’m boutta say); this man can. not. cook. no matter how capable he is in other fields, cooking is NOT one of them. he’ll try his very best, and he’ll prepare something if you’re too busy to do it, but you shouldn’t expect to be eating a fully edible meal once he’s done. baby boy will burn/spill anything you give him, and he feels bad every time. so, in order to prevent getting poisoned or having to clean up a huge mess every time, he’ll usually leave the cooking to you (or you’ll just order takeout, depends on the day)

. he does however love watching you cook. type of man to lean against the counter, arms crossed as he just watches his girl focus. whether you’re making something complicated from scratch or a simple grilled cheese sandwich, he’s thanking you for it and kissing you on the cheek, offering to clean up the dishes later on so you don’t have to do it

. the only way he’ll (somewhat) succesfully make something is if he’s doing it with you. baking is probably the thing you’ll do most together; pancakes, muffins, brownies whatever it is, he won’t mind making it with you. sure, he’ll be more of a distraction than help but if that’s not the greenest flag i’ve ever seen then idk what is

. another chore i think he’d love is changing the bed. idk why, it’s a very simple and small thing, but he knows how to make it fun. he gets a kick out of it when he sees you struggling to put the sheets on the mattress, cursing and grumbling to yourself. he’ll tease you, poke and prod at your side before pulling the thing down, then smothering you with kisses (which will probably lead to other things, and sometimes you need to switch the brand new sheets with other ones because this man is messy during sex and we love that here)

. another thing he loves? doing the laundry. why? because it’s easy to bend you over (just being honest)

. apart from cooking, i think he knows his way around the work around the house. his mama was a stubborn woman, and she’d be damned if she didn’t teach her boys how to take care of their own homes (which she (relatively) succeeded in doing)

. after you guys move in together (or you just start spending more time at each others places) he starts liking chores a lot more because he gets to do them with you<3

disappeared for 3 months and i’m sawry🫠 classes have been kicking my ass and i’m trying to get my shit together b4 i christmas hits. woke up and decided to write smth cuz i haven’t posted in a while, i apologise for the quality not being fantastic<33

[fillinforlater]

It’s that time of the year again. What are some of your favorite smuts released in 2023?

Monday of Appreciation: Part 104

Hello everyone, Smite here!

2023 is coming to a close and it's been quite the year, a mixture of "this is a bridge year for greater things to come" and "WE LIVIN' NOW MF!" What is a bit different this year is that the highs weren't as high and the lows weren't as low compared to previous years---maybe that is just me getting older, maybe it's hindsight. Either way, I'm good and this year was good.

But some things are more than just good. I'm of course talking about these writers and their stories that I have featured today. All of them deserve special mention, but I want to focus on two of them specifically.

In a year of great, fantastic and already legendary fics, these two stand out.

Without further ado, let's dive into the final MoA of this year:

-1-

@fanfiction4sooya: Can't Save You Now ft. Chaewon, Kazuha, Sakura

I- I- I just read the damn tags and new I one day had to give this a shot. ff4sooya has crazy ideas, futa galore, different dynamics and kinks, which is SO MY THING. This has Mommy and Daddy involved in an absurd (and absurdly hot) threesome that I couldn't take my eyes off.

Now I definitely need to read more and you should too because I bet there are a bunch of Masterpieces in that long Masterlist!

-2-

@iznsfw: Drunken ft. Olivia Hye

Is it really a Monday of Appreciation post without IZ?

Seriously, what this genius is able to cook up in a commission or in the currently ongoing (HYPE) IZ DAYS OF CHRISTMAS is absolutely incredible. We have long stories with in depth characters and love drama that ends not only smuttily but sweetly. Who the fuck needs books, when you can just binge IZ?

With "Drunken", they have once again hit it out of the FUCKIING park. There is never enough Daddy kink fics, yes, but mine seem like nonsensical cringe porn compared to this beauty of a piece. I love how it plays with my heart, no I'm not crying---okay, now that is hot.

Let me change that: there is three very fucking special stories today!

(I think this might even be better than Levi's Hyeju, wtf)

-3-

@cataboliac: Enkindle ft. Wendy

Firstly: I LOVE YOU CATA, BIG QT!

Secondly: "Enkindle" feels a bit like coming home, like a day in Paradise, like the one person that shines so bright in your life that you don't want it to go. And you know, that is the great thing: this might be Cata's final fic, the farewell, but not only is his life gonna be great and he'll be super happy - we also get to read this again and again, and I'm sure I will one day.

Thank you, Cata, for hanging around!

Thirdly: I'M GONNA KISS YOU, CATA!

-4-

@writerpeach: Delectation ft. Wonyoung, Yujin

1.000 Notes, and it's still not enough for what is my pick for fic of the year (FOTY? FOOTY? There is a scene like that, yep). IZ*ONE truly never dies, but it is IVE and these absolute super stars, bomb shells with flawless faces and different, yet irresistible bodies that have us in a frenzy.

Talking about frenzy, all those 30,699 words are a frenzy. I thought Peach would set it up with a long and painful tease that has us edging the entire time BUT NOPE this has so much fucking smut, so many lines of neediness and horniness, it is impossible to finish in one try or two tries or... I dunno, seven-hundred tries?

It's detailed, it's straight forward, it's sex from every fucking angle, I can never get tired of this. I will go so far and say this is Peach's magnum opus, the GOAT fic by the GOAT writer. At least for that day, I can say this without a doubt.

Peach, you are crazy and thank you for that <3

#PeachPavedTheWay #AnnyeongzForDaddy

[heavilycaffeinatedsblog]

I'm just curious bc you mentioned in another ask that you're working on becoming a published author - would you ever consider changing the names and publishing any of your klance fics?

Regardless, best of luck breaking into publishing!!! You're a phenomenal writer and the world will be so lucky to have your work on bookshelves one day <3

Okay, so this is something that people have asked me before and I've thought about it a lot. As of right now, fanfic is where I can do whatever the hell I want whenever the hell I want. My novel WIPs are tedious and fantastical and involve all these magical orders and lore (and lesbians lolol I am who I am) Fanfic is where I ~breathe~. I love literally just being bored one day and going, you know what? What if I just start a month-long fanfic project for Christmas lolololol. My fanfic world is so special and sweet and impulsive and I love it as it is.

H O W E V E R will that opinion some day change and I pull a lil Love Hypothesis moment? Maybe! The comments on A King and His Fisherman in particular do make me consider, damn, I really did just intertwine like four different plotlines lol. I think that expanding on that fic, where there is their past relationship, their current friendship, and their storytelling renditions, could be something in my future. But Dear Reader was what really brought me into the fanfic world and I lowk don't want to change a thing about it right now lol.

Sorry for the dissertation omg. But thanks for the question and the love!

[piratesfromspace]

Night Blue (Price x Reader)

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Price

Rated: Mature

Word count: 3k

Summary: "Between two containers, he sees the target, bloodied and tied up to the floor." or when Price comes to your rescue.

Note: I'm not the author of this fic, it is actually a Christmas gift from my boyfriend (yes I have the best boyfriend ever)! He writes for a living and has yet to dip his toes in fanfic territories, but I think he did fantastic and was very good at writing with the female gaze in mind. His take on Price has me drooling. He used the codename Rain, but note this is not part of the Rain Universe. Please let him know in the comment what you think of his first CoD fanfic!

Content: military!fem!reader, Reader has blue eyes but no body description other than that, mention of food & alcohol, rescue mission, implied torture, competency kink, typical level of violence

Muffled voices. Metallic clinking. Crowded interior. This could be your next mission. Or the last one. But it isn’t. It’s only a date. Well, Only. If only “only” could be only. It isn’t. It’s been years. You know him. This isn’t a first. But somehow, your heart is racing. It’s a fancy restaurant, after all. In the middle of good old London. He always had great taste, if not old-fashioned. But he’s late. He’s always late. You never understood that. How could someone that precise on the field be this messy in civvy street? Where the heck is he?

Did he try to take the tube? Again? He can’t do that. Not anymore. Not after what happened the last time 141 was deployed in London. He should be in a cab right now, on his way, with a big, innocent grin on his face. At least, you hope he is. You don’t want to drink this expensive bottle alone. Spend the night by yourself. Fall asleep in a cold bed. 

“Don’t let me down, Bravo 6.”

You said it aloud with a sigh. Someone answers.

“Oh, you know I won’t, darling.”

He’s here. Where did he come from? Doesn’t matter. His noise discipline is on point. That’s something he brings from the field. Ever so stealthy, he takes the chair before you and says “hi” in his thick accent. Thick as his moustache. What’s the name again? Mutton chops or something. He’s so damn proud of it. It’s cute. You noticed he trimmed it for the occasion and probably added some kind of oil to it. You smell it from here. An odd but somewhat comforting smell. Like a cosy fireplace or a warmish glass of Scotch. You wonder if your sheets will smell like that in the morning. He’s trying to say something, but you're already lost in the thought. Split seconds where you don’t listen, only think about those infamous mutton chops climbing your legs. Focus, damn it. What is he wearing? A suit? That’s strange. Well, you always thought anything besides a loaded chest rig looked weird on him. Wait, no. That’s not true. He wears jumpers and cardigans quite nicely. You always pictured him as an old British gentleman. A sailor embarking on a frail boat. Or a hunter walking to a black forest. Something like that. Old-fashioned indeed. It’s an acquired taste. 

So you talk. Like a lot. Spend time in each other’s eyes. Those grey-blue marbles, in which you see more than what is said. The joy of the moment, of being here, yes. But also the sadness, the pain. What is supposedly left behind, somewhere on a desolated field, and yet always comes back to scratch those eyes. It’s okay. You have the same. That’s why it’s working. But you remember. You remember how bright, much brighter, these eyes were the first time you saw them.

TEN YEARS AGO

Black and white. Night and snow. Somewhere in Northern Europe, the winter wind sweeps the clouds across the sky and dusts the flakes off the trees. But two bushes remain still. Until they don’t. All ghillied up, two operators crawl in powder snow. They talk as loud as the wind allows them to. 

“Follow me and keep low, lieutenant. Target’s right ahead.” 

“Solid copy.”

Captain MacMillan leads the way in near-total silence. His second in command, Lieutenant John Price, tries to keep up. He misses the warmth of the base. Of a pub. Of anything warmer than this icy desert at this point. But he needs to stay focused. They’re deep into enemy territory, trying to retrieve an ally he only knows by reputation. A track record he admires. So he wonders. What happened? A trap? A mistake? Perhaps it’s a warning in disguise. It goes to show that no one is ever too good to get caught. To get killed. 

Listen to the captain. Do what the captain says, his head repeats. Enough to forget his instincts or the will to think for himself. Violence and timing. Once you’re on the field, only these two matter. They don’t require you to think. Only to act, and act at the right moment. Old man MacMillan told him so. And despite his age, Alpha Six is teaching him a lesson. The captain moves like a damn ghost. The cold doesn’t seem to bother him. It’s almost like the snow melts around him so he can look like a real bush. The deadliest bush in the country, probably.

“It’s a goddamn convention around here, John.”

Price looks down. The warehouse and its surroundings are barely lit, but using thermal goggles, he can already count twelve guns guarding the target, plus three engineers working on an Infantry Fighting Vehicle. Guards, not soldiers. The new plague of the free world: PMCs. Former soldiers, swapping insignias for fatter paychecks. Russian, probably. He hears them talking through the wind. Or maybe French. They hire all across Europe, after all. The captain’s accent brings him back to Scotland.

“We could wait for them to break off, but that’d be playing with the target’s life, and we’d probably freeze our asses to death… There’s only one way to do this, innit?”

“Right. Care for a suggestion, captain?”

“I’m all hears, lieutenant.”

“That IFV. Maybe it is operational. Maybe it isn’t. I don’t want to find out. We take it down first. C4 should do the trick. They hear the boom. We split. You dance, I get inside. Once the target’s identity is confirmed, I take the long trek home through the forest, and meet you at LZ.” 

“You forget your rank, lieutenant. Why should I be the one dancing, John?”

“With all due respect captain, you forget your back. I’m sure the target’s a big boy. Unless you’re ready for the fireman carry of your life, you let me do it. If you hurt yourself, who will put those Christmas lights on the tree? Your wife will never forgive me…”

“Alright John, lead the way.” 

They don’t need their ghillies anymore. The bushes become men. They check their weapons. Price is about to take point when MacMillan nudges him. His fatherly smile almost lights the dark.

“The next time you bring my wife into this kid, you’re going down.”

“Roger that, captain.”

One of the engineers went for a cigarette. Lord bless the smokers. They all leave their post, eventually. Even when they don’t, that smoke will shake their focus. Move fingers away from triggers, grenades, alarms. Enjoy that last cigarette, lad. This smoke’s about to kill you faster than lung cancer. MacMillan jumps from the white shadows, arms instantly locked on his prey. His combat knife bites. Screams die in the engineer’s throat. Blood bubbles explode. The wind covers almost everything. The fluff of the snow takes care of the rest. 

Words come to them, though, and both captain and lieutenant freeze instantly. Their weapons are up, ready to strike. But they don’t want to fight. Not here, not now. More words. Price is trying to make sense of them, but he skipped too many classes for that. Damn you and your bad boy attitude, he thinks, until he hears a laugh. The words are repeated, but not as a question. That delivery transcends all languages. It’s a joke. Tension goes down, but MacMillan is already one step ahead. 

Pripyat. Urzikstan. Many more. Price has fought next to the captain since he joined the SAS. It’s a weird thing, but by now, he probably knows him better than friends. Better than family. And it shows. They don’t have to speak, but that’s always been a requirement on the field. What’s more impressive is they don’t have to sign full sentences either. They’ve experienced enough settings and parameters to understand how the situation will eventually play out. So they commit to the action, together, before the scenario can even start. Like two polished pieces of the same high-precision clock, they act as one to define time itself. 

“Together”, he signs.

For the two engineers, it’s time to die. Focused on the scratched hull of their IFV, these poor bastards never see it coming. A .45 ACP bullet penetrates their skulls at subsonic speed and settles down in their brains, avoiding any ricochet on the armoured surface of the vehicle. They climb on top of the tank. Price removes the bodies to find a hatch while MacMillan gets a block of C4 ready. Except for the wind, the place is silent. Which means no one knows they’re here. Good. But it could also mean the target is dead by now. The same thought has crossed the captain’s mind. He suddenly acts faster, despite the gloves and the numbed fingers they’re supposed to protect. Price follows and places the C4 inside the IFV, next to what he remembers to be a fuel tank.

About ninety-two seconds later, John learns his memories are correct. From the safety of distance, MacMillan has blown the IFV straight to hell in one glorious explosion. But it only takes about twenty more seconds for the PMC to react, learns Price on his watch. And that’s bad news. They’re still sharp. Drilled. Ready to respond. And they do. John counts half of them spreading out of the warehouse through truck gates and access doors. Their plan is sound. They’re looking out, trying to nullify the effect of surprise with a solid assessment of who or what is outside.

And it’s only one man, but he gives them a round for their money. MacMillan uses every trick in the book and every weapon he carries to make them think there’s a whole squad hunting for them behind the snow, between those big black trees. And they fall for it. At least one of the mercenaries does, and chooses to provide firing support from the door he was supposed to shut behind his comrades. 

John sees the opportunity immediately. Timing. In just a few rounds, the mercenary will have to reload. Or maybe he will suddenly realise the door is still open and stop firing. An empty mag hits the floor, and Price jumps out of cover. Violence. He grabs the mercenary’s weapon with one hand while the other secures the kill. The bastard’s heavy, and the thump of his fall makes a lot of noise. Silenced handgun raised, Price waits for a moment, scanning the entry corridor for potential targets. But no one comes. More words, inside. More shots, outside. Chaos is settling in, everywhere.

Another opportunity, then. Price presses on, checking his corners with the precision of a machine. A door opens to his right. Two mercs, rushing out of a room to help their comrades overwhelmed by MacMillan’s tactics. John is almost as surprised as they are, but not quite. Timing. They’re too fast, and likely to fire from the hip. Violence. He empties his mag on the two targets. One mercenary drops suddenly, like a puppet cut from its strings. The other falls, but slowly. His vest caught the heat. If he’s good, there’s a chance he might go for a sidearm, or a knife. No time to reload then. Price runs and then falls on his knees to finish his target with a clean cut from his combat blade. The bastard knows death is coming, but he’s not ready to embrace it just yet. His arms move in a life-or-death reflex, and Price is stopped a few centimetres away from a kill. There’s no timing anymore. Only violence, a test of raw strength. John tries to stab the merc down the neck. The poor guy can’t do anything but buy some time, and wait a few seconds for someone to go check the corridor. But no one comes for him. Only death, in the form of a straight silver blade slowly piercing his throat.

Rolling to the side, Price suddenly remembers to breathe. Staying on his back, he reloads his weapon without thinking, his two eyes locked on the door the mercs have opened seconds prior. He counts. One when he entered. Two in the corridor. With half of them still outside fighting MacMillan, that’s two mercenaries unaccounted for. Usually, it is the wounded, the insecure or the frightened you leave behind. But when it comes to target protection, it’s the other way around. Your last wall of defence is also the toughest. The big guns stay with the target until the end. If Price wasn’t so actively trying not to think, maybe he would have remembered that. 

He enters the room. More like a hangar. It’s dark. Only the moon and distant muzzle flashes provide some light through large, rectangular windows. Timing? Put the night vision set on, find the bastards, and apply a bit of violence. Wait. Price holds on to his set. Did someone cut the power? It could be MacMillan toying with them. But more likely, the mercs have figured their opponents are properly equipped. And now, they’re just waiting for Price to put his night vision on. They want him to rely on the tool, for there’s no faster way to blind a man than putting the power back at the right moment. So Price throws the night vision set away, into the room. Five thousand quid of government-issued tech crash on the industrial floor. One second. Two seconds. The light goes back and the night vision set dies a second time, broken apart by crossfire. 

The shots from the right probably came from that little accounting office Price sees through a piece of shattered glass. He resists the urge to throw a grenade, that could threaten the target’s life. His back on the wall, he’s getting closer to the office. More words. They come from the left. These mercs can’t shut up to save their lives. What is it this time? There’s a trace of panic in the sentences. They’re probably asking for reinforcements, but there’s a hell lot of static on the other end of the line. MacMillan has done his part, and there’s no military base around anyway. In typical Laswell fashion, Kate had saved the only piece of good news for the end of her briefing, Price remembers. So good luck with that, lad. But keep talking. The echo allows John to move closer and closer to his next kill. Until the warehouse is silent again. Until something inside the office decides to move. 

It’s a lock. Inside the door, it jiggles enough for Price to notice someone’s about to leave the office. He waits for the final click to bash the gate. It arrives a split-second later, and John kicks the door like his dad used to kick rugby balls on Sunday mornings. Wood breaks. Bones follow. Price puts another bullet in another skull. It happens so fast the merc can’t even fight or scream. But his finger was already on the trigger, so his assault rifle yelled for him. The burst catches price off-guard. Bullets pound his plate and the walls alike. He falls. 

When the kick finally fades, the world is backwards. Literally. Between two containers, he sees the target, bloodied and tied up to the floor. Or is it the ceiling? He’s not sure anymore. His ears are buzzing. His chest is compressed by the impact. There’s no gun in his hands. He wants to rise but he can’t. Someone comes. Someone that’s not MacMillan. Price rolls from back to belly. The world looks finally looks right again. Well, right as it can be when you’re crawling unarmed in the face of the Grim Reaper.

His weapon raised, the last merc stops next to the target and fires. Not rounds, but words. More words. Insults, probably. Weirdly, they’re not aimed at Price. They’re for whoever is still under the same black hood they always put on prisoners. She answers, proudly, in their language. 

Wait, she?

Gunshots. They come from outside, from the forest. Surprised, the last merc tries to sneak a look between the crates. Price gathers the little strength he has left to look for a weapon. But he’s still dizzy. A hippo with a full belly would be faster. He looks up, facing death with both eyes open. Only death doesn’t come for him. The target is free. She climbs on the mercenary like a damn spider, using her legs to maintain the bastard’s weapon against his chest while she strangles him with the little piece of plastic tying her two hands. John finally finds his sidearm. He wants to help her. He wants to shoot. But SAS lieutenant John Price is not so sure of his aim anymore. So he looks, and eventually, the mercenary crumbles.

Price now moves a bit faster and a bit closer. The target’s still fighting. But her prey is long dead. There’s no breathing left in him. His neck is broken. So broken that little piece of plastic is slowly severing head from body. And yet she fights, furiously. Moving slowly, talking even slower, he tries to calm her down. She releases her grip on the dead mercenary. Describing his every move out loud, John carefully guides his blade between her two hands and next to her neck. Underneath the bruises and the cuts, she’s a woman alright. Their eyes locked. Back to the mission.

“Lieutenant John Price, British SAS. I need your codename, fast.”

“Why are you here? I had it under control!” 

Her voice is confident. Not a single taint of doubt in it. Price chuckles.

“I’m not sure I see it that way, darling. Now, give me your codename so I can get you out of here.”

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

Again. Confident. She’s looking at the half-decapitated mercenary with disdain, not disgust. She killed before. In more ways than one. More brutal ways. 

“I had it under control.”

Her time to chuckle. She pauses. Takes one good look at him. That sort of threatening gaze birds of prey will give you if you happen to drive through their land. She measures. Judges. And weirdly enough, the whole thing ends with a sight smile.

“Codename’s Rain. Nice to meet you, lieutenant. Now, can a lady get a proper extraction, or what?”

“Sure thing, ma’am. Follow me.” 

They grab some gear and step out of the warehouse. Outside, the night is silent again. The moon shines on the black of the trees. The white of the snow. The red of the dead bodies. 

And the blue of their eyes. 

[elfieafterdark]

Gideon busting her ass to paint the kitchen, Harrow sipping black coffee and doing her usual part in home renos, that is to say, keeping her fiance company.

It's early, the sun hasn't even risen yet. The trees surrounding their property seem extra tall today. Their greens seem extra dark and secretive. It's going to be a beautiful fall day, perfect for spending time with her jock girl.

They don't have to worry about work today, or any day if they don't desire it. Harrow supposes she'll have to thank John for that someday.

Maybe the day after she stops hating his guts. But they do send him Christmas cards every year. And he's slightly more tolerable than when they were in high school.

"Man, this lil shit is tough." Gideon grunts, wearing an off-black tank top, little burger logo on the front. She's trying to paint a corner, it's a deep cupboard and she can't quite get at it.

Her fresh haircut is all messy on the top, shaved to half an inch on the sides.

She's gorgeous. Even with sleep still lingering in her eyes. Even with those stupid skull pajamas, ratty to the point of absurdity. She's had the damn things since high school.

Harrow leans on the new granite countertops, replaced last week, she's sitting at the breakfast bar, also created last week. Gideon is amazing.

It took Harrow a few years of being around Gideon to figure her out. To figure out that there was more to her than just a gymnut sport gal with no thoughts save for tits and ass up in her beautiful head.

She's clever, she's relentless, she has a fantastic brain; probably the most attractive thing about her to be honest. She just has an eye for creating things, and almost anything she tries, she can succeed at.

That ought to be eye-meltingly frustrating for Harrowhark Nonagesmius, sickly young girl who could do nothing right. Who constantly fell ill, who missed school, who often had to ask her teachers to repeat themselves 4 or 5 times.

When they met it drove her insane, seeing Gideon easily learn anything she wanted. But just like her impression of the person, her impression of the person's talents wasn't quite right.

If Gideon wasn't interested in a thing, then no amount of work could make her good at it.

She's TERRIBLE at remembering dates and time, she forgets Harrow's birthday a lot, and beats herself up over it. She's ass at math, she can't write a poem to save her life, and she often skips half the ingredients in a recipe just because she glazed over them when reading it.

Gideon is an ongoing journey, an investigation that Harrow will never close. She doesn't want to stop comprehending this person, the love of her life perhaps. If such a thing exists.

"Gideon?" Harrow finds her mouth saying before her brain had an appropriate amount of time to consider or calculate.

"Hmm? Sup babe? Need a top up?" Gideon's gold eyes always alarm her. Mystify her. Entrance her. Deep vats of molten gold that could suck Harrow's soul right out of her body.

But it isn't so hard these days, saying what she's thinking. So she does. Sickly little Harrowhark, ex-cult member who managed to get away through luck and circumstance, says it clearly, precisely, and directly.

"I love you."

[mygreatadventurehasbegun]

Favorite Movies of 2024

The Zone of Interest (2023)

First theatrical movie of this year and damn...this movie is an experience. Set during WWII, the movie follows the family of the Commandant of Auschwitz, while they live in the house next to the death camp. It is a way of looking at that time in history I don't think we've ever seen before...by not looking at it. We never see inside the camp, or witness any of the horrors that took place. But we see the Commandant's wife (played by the fantastic Sandra Huller) try on a new fur coat, or hand out clothing to her servants, and know exactly where they came from. We hear trains arriving as the children play in the yard. It is a very effective piece of filmmaking and a film I think everyone should see.

Don't Look Now (1973)

A fascinating look at grief and how it can differently affect people. After a couple (Julie Christie and Donald Sutherland) lose their daughter in an accident, they temporarily move to Venice while the husband is working. And slowly process the loss in different ways. Laura slowly finds some semblance of peace after speaking with a psychic, while John tends to bury his feelings and dismiss the spirituality his wife has embraced. This movie almost feels like a dream, with surreal moments sprinkled throughout where you start to wonder if John is losing his mind or if there is some sort of weird conspiracy or con set up by the aforementioned psychic. But if you think you know the answer...you're probably wrong, as this movie goes in such an unexpected direction with an ending that is both shocking and heartbreaking.

The Holdovers (2023)

I did not expect to like this movie as much as I did. Newer comedies don't tend to work for me...but what we have here is something that is timeless. I watched it again at the end of the year and I think I liked it more the second time around. Focusing on a teacher at a boarding school (played by Paul Giamatti doing some of his best work) who is forced to stay on campus to look after the students who are not going home for winter break. What follows is a cross between The Odd Couple and Dead Poets Society, as teacher and student spend the next two weeks together. They are joined by the school's cook (played by Da'vine Joy Randolph, who won a well-deserved Oscar for the role), who recently lost her son in Vietnam. This movie is funny and clever, as well as both heartbreaking and heartwarming...a perfect movie for the Christmas season or any time of year!

Lifeboat (1944)

This one had been on my list for a while, and I'm so glad I was finally able to see it! After a German submarine sinks their ship, several passengers take refuge in lone lifeboat and try to figure out how they can survive. This is by far Hitchcock's most claustrophobic film...there may be wide shots of the ocean, but that just makes the lifeboat that much smaller. Tensions rise pretty quickly, as you can imagine, but the dynamics between all the characters is very compelling. It's not an easy movie to find, but if it comes across your radar, it's one I would suggest checking out!

The Crow (1994)

If I had to pick one favorite movie for the year, it would probably be this one. I'm actually disappointed it took me this long to watch this one, because it is so up my alley. After he and his fiancée are murdered, Eric Draven (the incredible Brandon Lee) returns from the dead to avenge the wrongful deaths. Everything about this movie is iconic: the aesthetic, the music, the performances...I could gush about this one for a while, so I'll just say this: Brandon Lee was an absolute star. His performance is so good, I cannot take my eyes off of him when he's onscreen.

He Ran all the Way (1951)

While trying to add a few film noirs to my list, I came across this movie for free on YouTube and decided to give it a shot. After a payroll robbery goes wrong, Nick (played by John Garfield, in his last film) ends up taking refuge in the apartment of Peggy (Shelly Winters) and her family. John Garfield gives an excellent final performance in this film as a man who is in way over his head...he's someone who tries to be tough, but you can tell that it's really not who he is, but feels he has no choice but to go down that road. His dynamic with Shelly Winters is really interesting to watch, as you can tell she likes him, but is also trying to do the right thing to keep her parents and little brother safe. It's a really intimate story, as we spend about 3/4's of the movie in that apartment, and it seems to get smaller as Nick's paranoia starts to grow.

Heretic (2024)

I really enjoyed this movie. If you're looking for a dialogue-heavy, tense movie with a small cast...this is for you! When two Morman missionaries enter the home of Mr. Reed (played by the excellent Hugh Grant), they think they are going to convert him to the LDS church, when in fact, he has something different in mind. When I say dialogue-heavy, I mean it...Hugh Grant has some looong monologues in this movie, and they are fascinating to watch...and the dialogue between him and his guest is both interesting to listen to, as well as being incredibly tense. You spend a lot of the runtime just trying to figure out what his game is...what is he really trying to do? And I did find myself figuring it out right around the same time as the characters, which to me, shows that it's a well-crafted and engaging story. I really want to see this one again, to see if knowing the ending changes the viewing experience.

Wicked (2024)

I think this movie wins for being the most fun movie of the year. While potentially a bit too long, this movie is carried by the extraordinary performances of Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande. In telling "the untold story of the witches of Oz", these two created characters and a relationship that is so real and compelling, that audiences are mesmerized from start to finish. I've been a fan of this musical since the Broadway show opened in 2003 and I it was so wonderful seeing the story and songs brought to life on the big screen. And this film's production design? Outstanding. The dedication to creating a real world (rather than a digital one) for these characters to live in really touched my heart. It really felt like an old MGM musical for the modern age.

The Red Shoes (1948)

Another movie that I was retroactively mad at myself for not watching sooner. I had seen bits and pieces over the years, but had never sat down to watch the entire thing from start to finish. Fortunately, I bought the Blu-Ray during the last Criterion Sale and gave it a watch! This movie is absolutely stunning to look at, with beautiful cinematography and gorgeous saturated colors. And the story of the ballet dancer who must decide between a "normal life" with the man she loves and a prestigious career in the ballet with the man who discovered her is so engrossing, even though I knew where the movie was heading. And the dance sequence is breathtaking. Even though you watch it knowing that there's no way this would actually happen in a real theater (impossible costume changes, a stage that is seemingly never ending), you don't care because the storytelling is impeccable.

Nosferatu (2024)

And now we're at my final theatrical experience for the year! I don't know if I can put into words how good this movie is. I initially gave it an 8.5/10 after seeing it, but after thinking about it more, I'd probably rank it a bit higher. This really was a love letter to the horror fans who love the old, gothic movies...there was one short sequence that actually make me think of The Innocents and it made me so happy! And I appreciate that this movie did not rely on jump scares (though there were a few well-placed ones) but instead focused on the sense of dread and foreboding that fills both the characters and the city as Nosferatu draws near. Lily-Rose Depp gives an unbelievable performance as Ellen, the young woman with whom Nosferatu has fixated on...the physicality she brings to the role, as well as the raw emotion was very impressive. This one is still in theaters, and I think anyone who loves old horror movies needs to get their butt to the theater.

[bronx-bomber87]

Happy Monday lovely fandom. Lots to love about this one. Their opening scene is *chefs kiss* Some good Metro Tim. Really good Tim SL in general. Love this episode it’s fantastic for a lot of reasons. Let us begin shall we?

5x19 A Hole in the World.

We start off with some domestic Chenford and I’m here for it. Gimme. Lucy is studying in what looks to be one of Tim’s shirts. *squee* Pen in her bun looking all kinds of adorable. Tim stumbles out of her bedroom looking dead on his feet. Lucy having coffee ready for her sleepy boyfriend is everything. Her soft voice and excited features when she sees him is so precious. Gah she loves this man.

Ecstatic she gets to see him before work. Spend a little time together. She asks when he got in? Tim replying depends on what day it is? Ha Poor tired Tim. Lucy shooting back 'That bad huh?' Tim saying he’s eighty percent sure it’s Thursday LOL Lucy crushing his dreams telling him it’s Tuesday….His face is too funny. Poor man needs a day off in bed and snuggle time with his wife.

Lucy asks him what he was working on last night? I just love the whole feel in this scene. Him waking up all sleepy. Lucy is there happy to greet him. Little banter. Asking about what he’s working on. Married vibes in this moment. Lucy saying she stayed up incase she would catch him. Hoping the guy would turn himself in. Risking losing sleep to see her man. My Heart.

Tim says he did show up though. Showing her his battle scar. I saw a great parallel about this moment. That in past she had to ask if he was ok. Now he just shares it with her. She doesn't have to wonder. *happy sigh* Then we get the most glorious thing of all she calls him ‘Babe.’ Which I absolutely love. I think it’s so fitting for her to call him this. Unpopular opinion alert. I hate ‘baby.’ I legit cringe when I see it in a fic. Will straight bounce if it’s used to death as well. Just doesn’t seem like them IMO.

Babe seems much more fitting. Until I hear that word come out of either of their mouths. (Not counting Dim/Juicy) I can’t accept it as canon in my brain. Anyways that rant is over ha I love the concern and the way she softly touches his wound. Wanting to fix it for him. Can we talk about the tight fitting tank top and scruff? My god this man is trying to kill me. Sleepy scruffy Tim in his jams is welcome anytime. Give me more tank top Tim as well while we're at it. Loving that he has a hoodie there when he wakes up.

Which lends credence to my drawer theory. Man is keeping clothes there. I’m melting from all of these things at once. This is a fantastic opening scene for them. I love the way he shows her his wound first thing. Wanting her to make it better. The softest of humans around his girl. The way she gently touches it has me reeling. You know part of him showed her so she’d love on him a bit. Lucy jumped all over that and a sweet pet name to boot. I’m in heaven.

Lucy mentioning it was confident of this guy to try and take on 5 metro officers. I'm losing my mind over how once Tim is seated he’s not close enough for her. So Lucy pulls him even closer. Personal space wasn’t a word they knew before they were together. It’s non existent now that they are. Lucy lights up like a Christmas tree once he’s in front of her. Look at her above. Best thing to happen to her morning is him being there.

That line from 2x05 'They look so happy. I want that.' Now she has it and it looks good on her. Tim’s content ‘Mmm' and head tilt has me melting after she pulls him closer. His sweet gone for her smile and rubbing her arm. I'm a puddle. He is just as happy to be near her. Literally so content to share a quiet morning with his girl *internal screaming* They’re so adorable they might kill me. I’ll be writing the remaining reviews from the great beyond. So damn soft I’m on a cloud.

Once Tim is able to tear himself from her loving gaze he sees she’s studying. Genuinely confused asking what this is all is? I love her playful hit. Thinking he's pulling her leg. Tim is so baffled by this. She reminds him she’s studying for the detectives exam. Then questioning if she told him. I mean she might’ve but the man is sleep deprived and doesn’t know what day it is so...LOL

Tim replying he doesn’t think so? Lucy explaining why she’s going for it. Tim asking if she got the tap? Lucy is beaming when she tells him Harper and Lopez are backing her. (Of course they are. They know what a BAMF she is) Lucy looks so excited to share this news with him. Look at how proud he is of her. Exuding from that sexy smile of his. These are the moments where he’s that big softy for her.

Look at this love struck man. So proud of her he can’t stand it. Lucy starting with a little bit of self doubt. Saying with skepticism all she has to do is score in the top 12. Tim cuts her off before she can doubt herself any further. Saying she will. He knows how good of a test taker she is. Also how incredibly intelligent she is. He is her biggest fan and makes my heart so happy. Something that hasn’t changed from friends to more. Tim’s unwavering faith she will be amazing. No doubt in his mind about her crushing this.

From day one all he’s wanted is for her to succeed. To have an amazing career. Such the supportive husband not letting her doubt herself at all. I love her ‘Mmm’ as she leans in for their kiss. Heart eyes galore for him. Knowing that’s what he’s doing fo her. Her smile before she goes in for their kiss. *dreamy sigh* Always needing more than one kiss so they sneak in a second one. Forever love that. Such a great shot of a really cute morning kiss.

I adore the look on his face when he pulls back. That whole she fell first he fell harder resonating here in that look. The sweet rubbing of her arm getting me in feels as well. Can't keep his hands off her. Tim saying they better get used to not seeing each other then. Lucy adding in sadly yes. Between his hours and detective hours it'll be harder. Can see the sadness wash over her. Just as devastated by this idea as she was at the end of 5x12. Hating the idea of being apart from him so much. I do love Tim’s confidence it’ll be ok though.

Reminds me of Lucy’s in 5x12 and her talk with Tamara. Saying how they’d figure it out and they did. Little rocky but they did. This is a new obstacle for them to overcome is all. I love his wink at her when he tells her they’ll figure it out. It is fun to see their dynamic shift a little bit. Lucy being worried they’ll see less of each other. The worry is etched on her face. Tim being the positive one blows me away. Knowing they got this. Now that doesn’t mean they don’t need to have a deeper convo about this.

They for sure do. But I adore the depth of change in this man. With Lucy by his side there isn’t much he isn’t willing to do to figure it out. What happens when you are truly and unconditionally loved. Lucy has brought out this entirely new side of him and I love it so very much. Also it’s good for them to have these issues to work through. It’ll be productive for them even if it hurts a little along the way. Why productive angst is the best. Hurts so good and all that.

Nothing I love more than watching Tim in Metro mode. Hot damn. Fair warning he makes me very feral in this section. I have no regrets. Grey has looped in Tim and his team to watch Joel. Surveil him since he is a huge person of interest. Something about the the way he commands his team. Does things to me. Watching how he has plans in place.

Communicates everything so seamlessly. Just the complete control he has over this OP got me all hot and bothered not gonna lie. This case is serious but I can’t ignore how much I love watching him in the field. Especially with Metro. Phew lord. So much certainty in his commands and decisions. Crossed my legs couple times watching him in action not gonna lie LOL

We haven’t really gotten to see him on a mission yet. Be apart of patrol's mission's yes. But run his own OP that is exclusively Metro that we get to see? Haven't gotten that. I loved being able to watch him in his new element. Making calls on the fly as the situation develops. Then we get to see how he reacts under massive pressure running a team. He is watching Joel and it's obvious he is trying to split his team up. Tim can see his play from a mile away. Tim decides last minute to split them up in case. His seasoned gut coming into play in this decision. He's such a damn boss in this portion. Fanning myself as I watch him run this OP.

If you can watch him in this portion and not be turned on by his boss leadership I'm shocked.... and you're probably lying to yourself. LMAO Man is making me very thirsty in this scene. Just watching him have absolute control over everything around him is incredibly attractive. I need some water. *phew* We watch the hard choices he has to make during this OP. Joel has taken a motorcycle and they’re chasing him.

It’s getting more dangerous the faster he goes to get away. One of his guys is in pursuit and says he can keep up with him. The issue is he's in a car and Joel is not. Tim lets him pursue Joel till it gets too risky. Joel is going 130 entering the free way on that motorcycle. Tim makes the call to pull the plug despite some protest from his guy. He does as Tim tells him to and backs off.

He can't ensure no collateral damage due to the pursuit. Can't have an innocent family possibly get hurt to do it. Having to let him go despite wanting to pursue him. We can see how having to make this call frustrates Tim. It was the right call but damn it sucks. Once again love watching him in the field. Imma need more Metro Tim OP's in s6 writers just an FYI.

We return to Lucy at the station. They were able to locate Joel at an abandoned house. The kid was saved and removed thankfully. Sadly Tim had to shoot Joel once they entered and located him. He died on the scene. Didn’t leave him any choice in the matter. The shakiness in Lucy’s voice kills me as she approaches Nyla. Needing her guidance in this moment. Very stressed Tim still isn't back from IA yet.

She’s so worried about Tim and her anxiety is coming off her in waves. Harper being the amazing human can see this. She is tells her it’s ok. Harper can see how unsettled Lucy is. So she tries to calm her with some logic. Telling her that these types of interviews with IA are very through. They take awhile. That Tim will be fine. Lucy still looks like she hasn’t taken a breath though. That she can't do that till he's in her sights.

Tim makes his way into the bullpen and Lucy looks on verge of tears for him. That pull to go towards him is innate. Harper stops her when she sees Lucy move towards him. Telling her to let him talk to Grey first. She loves him so much. The look in her eyes when she sees him and her eyes follow him across the room. Ugh. My heart. Worried girlfriend mode has been activated and she can’t turn it off. There is just so much love in her expression and intense worry. A deep need to automatically make this better for him.

We can see how much she is longing to be near him. Wants to wrap him up in her arms and erase his pain. You can feel the anxiety coursing through her as she watches him make his way to Grey’s office. No one worries and cares for Tim like Lucy does that’s for sure. Plus her empathy is absorbing it all as well. She’s hurting because he is and it’s killing her to be away from him. But she is good and heeds Nylas advice to let him go for now….

The scene in Grey’s office has me crying. Gah Eric damn you and your amazing acting. He is WRECKED. Absolutely wrecked. Barely keeping it together in front of Wade. You can see the tears brimming in his eyes. He’s so emotional right now and trying so very hard to keep it in check. I'm so glad that they had this scene. Touched on how traumatic this was for Tim. Wasn’t glossed over. This scene showing the impact it had on him. Not only did he take a life but it was another cop's. One who KNEW Tim would have to pull the trigger if he forced his hand. Joel took the cowards way out. Made Tim pay the price for his exit.

Grey can see how distraught he is. The tears in this man’s eyes are breaking me. If Lucy could see this he would be in her arms so quickly. But she isn’t. I'm so glad he saw Wade first he needed this. Was important for Grey to absolve him in this moment. To hear it from someone who was his mentor and superior at one time. Not that Lucy’s opinion or help isn’t valid or wouldn’t help him. It will. He just needed to hear it from Grey first. That what he did was the right thing.

It’s why Harper suggested he see him first. Before she does. Logically Tim knows all the things he’s telling him. But he’s an emotional time bomb right now. So Grey reminds him that he had no choice. That he was dangerous. Tim repeating ‘I know’ because he does. Doesn’t change how he’s feeling though. I love Wade asking if there’s anything he can do? Tim gives his longest answer telling him to let him get back to him. Such a good scene. Broke my heart but damn good.

We return to our lovely couple catching up in the hallway. What a glow up this is I have to say. Going from hiding to Lucy being on his arm in front of the whole bullpen. The PDA in front of the station got me all in my feels. My heart may implode from how happy this makes me. Love her linking arms with one hand and touching his arm with the other. His reply to her question is such growth for him.

Before when he was keyed up he would just be angry. Lash out at those around him or push his feelings down and pretend he was ok. The fact that he can say he’ll be okay is huge. Tells her this calmly too. What a change in him. I remember seeing good parallel for this. His answer to Nell in 1x12 deflecting 'Yeah' and his reply to Angela in 2x11 when he was upset raging out. That he was fine just needed to blow off steam. With Lucy he's honest and doesn't deflect or explode. How far we've come.

Makes a massive difference when you’re loved by the right person. Lucy tries to be super soft in her approach. It’s why she’s does the soft touch first. It disarms him and she can speak her anxiety. Let out all the advice she’s been dying to say since he got back. Wanting so badly to soothe his raging emotions. Tim cuts her off and says it’s not the first time for him. Being bristly at first because it is still a default mode for him. Grown a lot but still getting used to the love and support of this woman next to him.

Lucy doesn’t let it stop her from being extra soft with him. She looks like she just wants absorb all his pain. Her eyes screaming as much as she touches her hand to his heart. Telling him she just wants to be helpful. Desperate to absolve him of this. He immediately melts at her touch and reverts back to soft Tim. Especially with her motives being so damn pure and in favor of helping him heal. Two episodes in a row she soothes him with just a simple touch. God I love them.

Tim thanks her eternally grateful for this woman in front of him. That she loves him and cares enough to do so. Put him first even when he’s slightly bristly still. Just like before they were together she doesn’t care if he is. Her main objective is to take care of him. He rubs her arm in the same affectionate manner as he did in their morning scene. This sweet touch speaking volumes for him. He’s so used to doing this stuff alone. To not have someone to be there in the aftermath.

But having her there for him changes everything. That realization melting his bristly reply from earlier. Heart eyes for days the two of them. In front of the entire station and I can’t get over it. Lucy giving him massive ones in reply to his thank you. Wanting so much to just make it better for him. Feeling like she isn't doing enough to help him though this. It's the way her body sags in that third gif. Wishing there was more she could do for him.

Tim needing the distraction from his emotions asking if she needs help? We watch Lucy melt like a puddle in front of him in the second gif. Loving him asking her if she needs it. Because despite the distraction it provides he genuinely wants to help her. Then we get a glorious call back to 2x02. Him basically recognizing all she did for him then in this moment. Knowing he wouldn’t be a sergeant without her. Without the books she recorded for him. Helping him study etc. Getting verbal recognition all these years later from him.

I too am a puddle Lucy. Not only recognizing her for what she did but telling her he wouldn’t have gotten score he did without her. (He really wouldn't have...) It’s here we see the scene go from serious to flirty as hell. Lucy touching his chest once again with her finger. Saying that’s true he owes her. Lucy seems so excited by this idea. Ready to cash in this long owed debt of his. Tim is smiling when she pokes him. Not an agitated bone in that man's body over this.

Tim is sassy af in his reply. Telling her he doesn’t owe her. Even though he was just a marshmallow and admitted as such moments ago... The flirty way she grabs his jacket. Oh my lord. The look in her eye as she walks away. Eyeing his lips and pulling on his jacket. Sweet lord this man is powerless before her. He knows it. Doesn’t fight her very long just says ‘Okay’ and goes after his girl. Never seen a man be so happy to be whipped in my life.

He is so ok that she runs this relationship for most part. We all know he actually loves this. Assertive Lucy is one of his favorites. Look at Lucy giving the orders and Tim following her lead no question. How times have changed folks. Broke his brain once again and all he can do is be in awe and follow after her. Such a goner for her and he’s very happy with this setup.

Follows her like a lost puppy out the door. Only Lucy could bring him back from the brink like this. Go from being upset and in his head to chasing after her. I love the amount of flirty sex talk these to have without ever really saying so. It’s amazing. Lucy definitely is owed a debt my god. He’s the one who passed the test but not without her help. Just like in 4x18 a debt is owed sir LOL Damn I love these two so very much it’s insane. S5 was a glorious gift. Kept on giving. Also if you’re needing a post 5x19 fic. D wrote an excellent one I highly recommend.

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Side notes -non Chenford

Lucy is so excited when she runs up to Harper at the station. Ready to sign up for the detectives exams. Telling Nyla she’s ready for this test. Harper is beaming saying she has no doubt. Then Smitty comes up and ruins everything. Saying one of the defective have out it out for her. We knew the 5 player trade could bite her… and it looks like it has Primm found out and isn’t happy about it. Be interesting to see how this will develop on s6.

Aaron’s face when Lucy calls herself one of the cool kids LOL hey man she is... haha

This Ep is Sooo good reminds me why I love this show as a whole. So emotional with Celina’s SL. Makes me cry thinking about my niece and nephew. There would be scorched earth for whoever got between me and them. This was the ep really made me love Celina. I wasn’t sure at first but this changed that. Her forgiving her mom is huge. Makes me cry.

I love Lucy being a BAMF with that offender. Putting him right in his own place when he gets defensive about it being harassment. Never be over how she's come into her own as a cop.

Angela looking up air tagging her kids LOL love her I really do haha

Thank you to my amazing readers who like, comment (love these) and reblogs. You are the reason I do what I do. I shall see you all in 5x20 :)