#would be very nice to see them one last time

[putellas14]

A Girlfriend for Christmas (Leila Ouahabi x Reader)

"Should I wear this one or this one?" you asked, holding up two dresses for your friend, Leila. Leila was laying on your bed, her phone in her hand, probably texting last night's hookup. 

She glanced up briefly, flicking her eyes over the dresses, before refocusing on her phone. "The blue one," she said. 

"Thank you," you muttered. Dropping the dresses on the bed, you pulled your sweats and shirt off, letting them fall on the ground. You shimmied the blue dress up over your hips and put your arms through the straps. You tapped Leila's foot to get her attention again. "Okay, how does this look?"

Leila looked up again. "Uh." Clearing her throat, she looked back down at her phone. "You look nice. Where are you going?"

"I didn't tell you?" You laughed to yourself. "I'm going to meet the girl I'm hiring to be my girlfriend for Christmas. Well, this will actually be the fourth girl I'm going to meet. Haven't had much success yet." 

"I'm sorry," Leila said, throwing her phone on the bed next to her and sitting up straighter, "what are you talking about?"

"I'm hiring a girlfriend."

"Why?"

"Because I can't spend another Christmas listening to my entire family ask me endless questions about my love life." 

"Why didn't you just ask me to come with you?" she asked. 

"I couldn't do that. They all know you. They'd never believe it." 

"Why not?"

"Well," you thought for a second, "you're my friend."

"Friends date all the time. We could be friends who date,” she said, matter of factly. 

“Be real, Leila. I need this to work. You’ve always been very anti-relationship. No one is going to believe that we’re together.” 

Leila rolled off the bed and moved to stand in front of you. She was standing so close your lips were nearly touching. She lifted her hand, caressing your cheek with the back of her fingers, letting her fingers slowly, tortuously, slide down your neck. 

You felt an incredible sense of deja vu before remembering you’d been in this position before. Once. In a dream. A few months after meeting Leila. And you had berated the crush out of yourself back then. 

When you involuntarily leaned into her, she patted your cheek and stepped back. “See? We can make people believe we’re into each other.”  

“Right.” You cleared your throat and brought yourself back to reality. This reality. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Plus, this girl is already waiting for me, so it’d be rude to turn her down without at least going to meet her.” 

“Okay.” Leila settled back in your bed with her phone.

“What’re you doing? I’m leaving.” 

“And I’ll be here waiting to hear all the deets when you get back. I have to know everything. You know your brother is going to call me as soon as you walk through the door with this girl. Be weird if I don’t know anything about her.” 

“Fine. Make yourself useful and feed Dot while I’m out then,” you said, referring to your old sweet black cat who only enjoyed interacting with you or Leila. 

The bar you’d chosen to meet at was just a block away from you. But somehow you were still late getting there. She was already sitting at a table in the corner, her blonde hair flowed like a halo in the dim spotlight. She was even more beautiful than in her photographs. 

And that turned out to be her best quality. She was a complete bore. She could barely hold a conversation, stumbling her way through most sentences, and never saying anything of substance. Your family would give you a bigger headache for showing up with her than if you just went home alone. 

She wasn’t going to work. At all. 

After two drinks, you politely ended the night, thanking her for her willingness to help but gently turning her down. You paid for her drinks to make up for turning her down. 

“So?” Leila asks, as soon as you walk in. She had migrated from your bed to your couch. Dot was curled up next to her, sleeping. 

“Remind me never to have ideas again. She was so boring. My family would hate her.” 

“You know who they love?” she asked, a cheeky grin on her face. 

You nearly shut her down again. But she was right. Your family did love Leila. She was their favorite of all your friends. Maybe it would be hard to convince them you were dating but at least they wouldn’t give you a hard time about picking a person who didn’t fit. 

“On one condition,” you heard yourself say. 

“Name it.” 

“No kissing on my lips.” 

“But how will we convince them then?” she asked, raising a single perfect eyebrow.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out, Ouahabi.” You crossed the living room, heading for your bed. “We leave at 8am tomorrow,” you called over your shoulder. “Don’t be late.” 

You had already bought the second train ticket, and it was simple enough to get the passenger’s name changed at the train station the next morning. The three of you (you, Leila, and Dot) settled in for the long ride down to Oxford. You dozed on and off, as was typical for you. At one point you woke to find yourself leaning on Leila’s shoulder. You apologized and sat straighter. She had just smiled in response and returned to her book. Dot slept peacefully in her carrier through the entire ride.

Your dad was waiting for you at the station, and he greeted you both with a huge hug before loading your bags into the car. You’d grown up there, both your parents being local primary school teachers. Your brother, James, had followed in their footsteps but was currently working towards his PhD so he could teach at university.

On the car ride home, you listened to Leila and your dad catch up with each other. Your family truly did enjoy Leila’s presence, which always warmed your heart. Thankfully, it seemed as though he had forgotten your text message letting them know you’d be coming home with your girlfriend for Christmas. God bless your dad and his forgetful nature. You were suddenly nervous about this whole ruse. 

As if Leila could sense it, likely from how quiet you were the entire ride, as your dad turned onto their road, she reached over and squeezed your hand. 

“Breathe,” she mouthed. 

And you did. Taking a few slow, deep breaths. It would be fine, you told yourself. This would all be fine. It was just a couple days. 

You could see your mom’s eyes get misty from the front door when she recognized Leila next to you. Clearly, she had not forgotten you were bringing home your “girlfriend.” 

She came down to the car so she could hug you tight as soon as you got out. “Hi, sweetie! How was the train?” 

“Hi, mom. Can’t. Breathe,” you managed. 

“Oh whoops.” She stepped back, loosening her grip on you and moving over to Leila. “Hello, Leila dear! Welcome!” She gave Leila as tight a hug as she gave you. “I think we have some catching up to do,” she said, looking over at me. Putting her arm around Leila’s shoulders, she guided her into the home. Leila looked over her shoulder at you as she went into the house and the panic on her face immediately calmed you down and brought pure amusement to you as you unloaded the bags and brought them into the house. You set down Dot's carrier by the front door and let her out. She immediately beelined for the sofa, her favorite place in this house.

From the front door, you caught a glimpse of the huge Christmas tree in the family room. There must have been at least a hundred ornaments hanging from the branches. Your mom (it was mom who loved Christmas the most) had garlands and decorations covering every available surface. She had always made home feel like something out of a winter Christmas fever dream. You loved it. It had always made you love Christmas so much. 

You wandered over to the Christmas tree, letting your eyes roam over all the ornaments and bows and lights. You had a small Christmas tree at the apartment in Manchester, but it was nothing like this. This was at least nine feet tall, nearly hitting the ceiling. It was plump and full and not at all like your artificial pre-lit tree. And it smelled absolutely glorious, straight out of a forest. 

You kept walking through, taking in all the little details. You could hear them all talking in the kitchen and slowly made your way back there, stopping to give Dot a few scratches behind the ears.

“Y/N!” Leila said, when you walked in. She reached out towards you, her eyes wide, and grabbed your forearm to bring you closer to her. “Perfect timing. Your parents were just asking when we started dating.” And now the wide-eyed look made much more sense. 

She was scared of them. 

Maybe this idea wasn’t so bad, after all, if it meant a few days of watching Leila squirm. 

“Oh. You didn’t want to tell them?” you asked, smirking. You leaned against the counter next to her. 

“I thought you might want to do that.” 

“Er right.” She looped a finger in your belt loop and dragged you closer to her, letting her arm rest around your waist. Even though this was fake, and you were both affectionate with each other, the move caused something to stir deep in your stomach. Swallowing the lump that was growing in your throat, you said, “Leila finally got off her ass and asked me out about three months ago.” 

“Three months!” your mom exploded. “Three months, she says, like it’s nothing.” Clearly, she was going to give you a pass on swearing given her fixation on your answer.  

“We didn’t want to tell you until we’d had time to give it a chance,” Leila answered, giving you a small smile.  

“Well, honey, we’re so glad you finally asked Y/n/N out. This means I win the bet,” she said in her husband’s direction. 

“What bet?” you asked. 

Before either could respond, the front door opened and you heard your brother yell out, “I’m here! Let’s get the eggnog flowing!” You move out of Leila’s grasp and run out into the front hall to give him a hug. It had been a couple months since you’d seen each other. Football season was always hard. 

“Hey kid, how you are doing?” James asked. 

No matter how old you got, James always called you kid. It had started as an insult when you were his annoying little sister and had morphed into a term of endearment as you’d gotten older. 

“I’m great. Merry Christmas.” 

“Leila? What the heck are you doing here?” he asked, spotting her over your shoulder. When he sidestepped you to give her a hug, you saw the huge grin on his face. You watched them embrace each other before he stepped back and put her in a headlock. It was like they had grown up as siblings, you thought with a shake of your head. 

"I told you I was bringing my girlfriend home for Christmas," you said, nonchalantly. Maybe too nonchalantly, by the look of shock on his face as his eyes met yours. He looked between you and Leila, still holding her in a headlock. "Can you let her go before you accidentally strangle her?" I reached out for Leila's hand as his arms slid limply from her neck. She linked her fingers with yours and allowed you to tug her over to you. "James, Leila is my girlfriend." 

"What do you mean?" he asked dumbly. 

"I know mom and dad explained how this works," you shot back. 

"But when? How? I mean, why?"

"Why? Well, I mean, look at her." You pressed a kiss to her cheek, feeling the heat flood her face under your lips. "And we were just answering those same questions for mom and dad. Three months ago. And she asked me out."

"Three months? That's like, that's so long ago!" 

"And now you're going to tell me what you know about this bet mom was just starting to say she won." 

"Uh. Nothing." He picked up his backpack again and started to walk away. "I know nothing." 

"Liar!" you yelled at his back. You looked down at your hand, fingers still tangled with Leila's. As you started to smile to yourself, you looked up at her face. She was standing still, no real expression on her face. "What?" No answer. You shook her hand, trying to get her attention. "Earth to Leila. Are you okay?" 

She shook her head and looked at you, seeming to be coming out of whatever had occupied her mind. "I'm great. Your mom said something about hot chocolate, let's go get some." She dropped your hand, walking back towards the kitchen. 

Your mom always went all out on the hot chocolate. There was whipped cream and marshmallows and little Christmas themed sprinkles and, of course, alcohol. A whole assortment of alcohol was now sitting on the counter, waiting for each person to take their pick. Per usual, you took vanilla vodka. She'd also set out some sandwiches. Once everyone was settled around the small kitchen table, you brought the conversation back to the bet.

"How much do you win in this bet, mom?"

"What bet?" dad asked, feigning innocence.

"The bet mom gleefully said she won after finding out how long I've been dating Leila."

The three of them at least had the humility to look sheepishly at each other before mom answered, "Fifty quid."

"And what did the rest of you bet?"

"That you'd eventually ask Leila out," your dad answered.

"That you'd die alone," James answered. Your dad slapped him over the back of his head. "Ouch."

"Be nice," your mom warned. He got up to top off his mug with whiskey and she reminded him that Mass was starting soon.

Shoot. You had forgotten to tell Leila that you'd be going to Christmas Eve Mass. "I have an outfit you can borrow, if you need," you whispered.

"Thanks," she whispered, covering it with her mug.

"So, girls," your dad said, "we know that Y/N's bedroom is a little small for the both of you." Oh, god, where was this going? "Mom and I talked about it, and we'd be okay if you both stayed in the guestroom, if you'd prefer."

You could tell this was as awkward for him as it was for you. Your room only had a single bed and although you had snuck girlfriends in and slept on that single bed with them, you weren't intending to share that bed tonight. You were temporarily taken aback by the offer because you assumed your parents would force you to sleep in separate rooms.

Leila reached over, squeezing your hand. "Y/N and I talked about it as well. And we're both quite comfortable being split up. Thank you very much for offering, though."

"Just so you know, there's a creaky board between the guest room and Y/N's room," James said. "I'll hear you if you sneak over."

Your dad hit him over the back of the head again. "Shut it, James." He turned back to you. "We want to make sure you're both comfortable."

"Thanks, dad," you said quietly. Leila squeezed your hand again and you looked over at her. She was giving you a soft smile. Of course, she knew how you were feeling. Overwhelmed and loved. You'd spent years in the closet, worried about upsetting everyone. It was easier to lean into the side of you that was attracted to men back then. To now have your parents be so welcoming to your "girlfriend" choked you up.

You were suddenly really glad you'd brought Leila along to play this role. It was somehow easier with someone you already knew. Having a total stranger sitting next to you right now would have made you feel really lonely.

Before you could dig too far into your feelings, your mom clapped her hands and said it was time to go get ready. Looking at the clock, you were shocked to find it was already so late. You took Leila up to your room first, so that she could see what options you had. No surprise to you, she took the only outfit with pants.

"What?" she asked when she saw you giggling in her direction. "My jacket will match it."

"I'm sure that's the reason." You picked one of the dresses up and held it up in front of you. Looking in the mirror, you checked to see if it would be long enough. Hmm, maybe not. You picked up another, checking for the same thing. Good enough. You pulled off your sweater to change and Leila stopped you.

"Whoa whoa whoa, what're you doing?" she asked, slapping her hand over her eyes.

"What? I changed in front of you last night. And I change in front of you all the time!"

"Yeah, but not in your parents' house." She turned away. Keeping her eyes closed, she reached her arm out and started feeling around, bumping into multiple items in your room.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm looking for the door."

"Then open your eyes!"

"No!"

"Ugh. Fine." You walked towards her. She was only a few inches off. Because of the way your furniture was set up, you had to angle your body sideways next to her to reach the knob. You could feel your chest pressed into her arm and held your breath, so your chest wouldn't move at all. God, you felt stupid. "The door is open," you muttered, stepping back. She fled as quickly as she could, keeping her eyes closed until she was in the hallway. Shaking your head, you closed the door again. You were half naked, after all.

You quickly got ready and went down to wait for everyone. The five of you squeezed into your dad's tiny ancient Renault for the short drive over to your local church. Your parents liked to attend Mass on important days of the year. Your brother had become more involved in the church as you'd gotten older, and he regularly attended Sunday Mass. You, on the other hand, had a more complicated relationship with religion. The church was a source of community, but it had also been a source of stress as a young queer kid. You were always still afraid walking through those doors that something negative was coming your way.

As if Leila could sense your apprehension, she closed her hand over yours as you walked in. It helped you feel more grounded. You went to Mass every year for your family but that had never made it easier. You had also never told them how you felt, only that you didn't connect with organized religion. But Leila knew. Leila knew everything about you. And she understood, without any additional words, what was going on in your mind at that moment. She kept your hand in her throughout most of the service, at some points drawing random patterns with her thumb.

The way she kept reading your mood today should have made you uncomfortable, but it just made you really glad to have her here. Although your family's consistent pestering of your love life was uncomfortable and annoying, it really wasn't anything compared to how lonely it made you feel. Their questions always reminded you that you were completely alone.

And Leila seemed to be on a mission to prove to you that you weren't alone.

The four of you had a quiet dinner in town at one of your favorite restaurants before heading home. It had been an early morning for you, and you said good night soon after you got home. Leila opted to stay up and hang out with James a while longer. And to your displeasure, Dot decided to stay curled on Leila's lap rather than coming up to bed with you. Leila and James both laughed when you pouted. Annoyed at them ganging up on you, you bent down to give Dot a kiss on the head and ignored them both.

As you walked away, you heard James say, "Ooo you're in trouble." You heard Leila respond but were too far away at that point to hear what she said. You were far more exhausted than you realized. Sleep took you as soon as your head hit the pillow, preventing you from overthinking what she could have said in response.

The next morning, you quickly showered, knowing Christmas day had a way of getting chaotic fast. You headed downstairs and found your parents cuddled on the couch, their cups of tea teetering precariously on the cushions next to them.

"Merry Christmas!" you said.

"Good morning. Merry Christmas, honey," your mom said.

"Merry Christmas!" your dad said at the same time.

"Do either of you want more tea?" you asked, pointing at their mugs. They both shook their heads, so you went to make your cup. While the water boiled, you took the moment to enjoy the quiet morning. You stared out the window, watching the birds fly from roof to roof. It was softly snowing outside, adding to the feeling of calm. The kettle started whistling, prompting you to remove it from the heat.

"Think I could get one of those too?" Leila asked from the doorway, startling you. You hadn't even heard her come in. You pulled another cup down and filled it. You put the kettle down and leaned against the counter to wait for the tea to steep. "Merry Christmas," she said quietly, remaining on the other side of the kitchen.

"Merry Christmas." You crossed your arms across your chest. "How'd you sleep?"

"Great. James and I stayed up pretty late and Dot kept me company after that."

"Not used to sleeping alone, Ouahabi?" you asked, raising an eyebrow, the amusement clear in your voice. Leila, on the other hand, scowled at you instead of laughing with you. "I meant that as a joke," you said sheepishly when she didn't respond. Feeling awkward, you checked the teas. The color looked okay, so you picked one up and handed it to Leila, leaving the other on the counter. "Milk?" Sometimes she took milk, sometimes she didn't. She shook her head. You poured a small amount into your cup and returned the carton to the fridge.

"What's the plan for the day?"

"Dad and I usually go for a walk, if you want to come. We'll leave from Gran's around 10:30 and we'll stay there until evening. We usually have like a late lunch type of deal there."

"Okay." She glanced at the clock on the wall. "How long is your walk? I'll have to shower before we go."

"Should be plenty of time. You should come. Get some fresh air before we're shut in with my relatives the rest of the day." You made a face at her, hoping to get a laugh out of her. When she at least smiled at you, you considered it a win. "Want to sit down?" you asked, gesturing towards where your parents were. She nodded and followed behind you.

"Good morning, Leila honey," your mom said. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," she said. She sat cross-legged on the floor, cradling her cup between her hands. The four of you sat quietly, listening to the crackle of the fire in the corner. Dot strolled in midway through your cup and nuzzled her face into your arm. You lifted your arm, letting her cuddle into your side. She collapsed against the side of your leg, and you let your hand gently rest on her back. "I guess she missed you after all," Leila said.

You smiled down at Dot, slowly moving your fingers against her fur. "Guess she did." You went back to silence, enjoying the addition of Dot's loud purring to the fireplace. "Oh, dad, Leila's going to come for a walk with us."

"Alright, great. Looks a little cold out there, so don't forget your coats, girls."

"Should we leave in about 10 minutes?" you asked. They both nodded in agreement. Your mom protested by snuggling further back into him.

"15 minutes," he said.

"Sure," you said with a big grin. Your parents had set too good of an example of what a relationship should be. They both genuinely enjoyed the company of the other. They worked together well as partners. They respected each other. They loved each other so fiercely. And nothing had changed after thirty years. If anything, their relationship was even better now. You let your eyes get a little misty, before turning your eyes downward to hide it from the room. If you had been looking anywhere else, you would have seen that you hadn't hidden anything from Leila.

The three of you set out twenty minutes later (your mom had protested again when dad tried to get up). It was still softly snowing, causing all of you to draw your hoods. It made it nearly impossible to hear anyone, which left the three of you walking in silence. You were glad for this walk. You knew the rest of the day would be loud and chaotic and stressful. This walk allowed you to hold onto the quiet of Christmas morning for as long as possible.

By the time you returned home, you were freezing cold, and a thin film of snow was stuck to the fur-lining of your hood. Leila laughed as some of it fell on your face. She removed her glove and lifted her hand to brush away the rest of it before it could fall on you. The heat rose to your cheeks, and you tried to tell yourself it was due to the blast of heat that had greeted you when you walked into the house.

While everyone showered and prepared last-minute gifts, you closed yourself in your room to hold onto those last few final moments alone. You had brought a red dress and tights for the day. The dress tucked in at your waist before flowing down to your mid-thigh. It was one of your favorite dresses, but you didn't often wear it because you thought the red was too bright for most occasions. Deciding to go forth with the boldness you were feeling, you painted your lips a deep red as well and carefully applied a thick layer of mascara.

"Y/N, come on!" James yelled. "It's time to go! What're you doing?"

Shocked, you looked at the clock next to your bed. You had no idea where the time had gone but you gave yourself one last look in the mirror, grabbed your coat and heels, and ran downstairs. "Sorry sorry. I wasn't watching the time." You sat down on the bottom of the steps to buckle your heels. "Okay, I'm ready."

"You look," Leila said when you stood. She let her eyes wander down you and back up to your face. "You look beautiful."

James hit her arm."Ew, dude. That's my sister."

"What?" she asked, hitting him back. "I've got eyes. Plus, she's my girlfriend. I'm allowed to, no I'm supposed to, compliment her and make her feel good!"

"She's right," your dad interrupted. "You should take notes, James, in case you ever convince anyone to date you."

"Ouch," he said, rubbing his chest.

"Alright, the lot of you," your mom said, "into the car. Let's go."

You sat quietly on the drive to Gran's while Leila and your parents talked about an upcoming trip to Morocco. You could tell Leila was in the zone. She loved talking about Morocco and giving recommendations to people who had never been there before.

There was almost no parking near her home, and you ended up having to walk quite a way in your heels, balancing the pot your mom had shoved into your hands. At one point, you had nearly slipped but Leila caught you around the waist with one hand and steadied the pot with her other hand. She kept her arm around you for the rest of the walk, making sure you stayed upright.

The rest of your family was already in the house, and they excitedly welcomed Leila in. Leila had been to family events and had met most people in the past. Your gran was probably more excited than your mom had been when you went over to say hello to her and introduce Leila as your girlfriend. She gripped both your and Leila's hand in her lap and cried, telling you both she had never seen such a beautiful couple and she was so happy to have Leila officially in the family. She was so emotional that you started getting choked up as well. When she let you both go, you leaned over and gave her an extra kiss on the cheek.

"Can I get you anything, Granny?"

"No, dear. Go have fun," she said, patting your hand.

"You want a drink?" you asked Leila. She nodded and offered her hand. You placed your hand in hers and pulled her behind you into the kitchen. Uncle Mark made the booziest egg nog every year. But there was also an assortment of other drinks your cousins had presumably brought. "Egg nog?" Leila nodded. You filled two cups and handed one to her.

"Going right in for the strong stuff?" Uncle Mark asked from the doorway.

"Always. You remember Leila, right?" He nodded. "She's my girlfriend now," you said with a smile.

"That's awesome. Well welcome. Today will be the real test of if you can put up with this family," he said with a deep belly laugh.

"Oh my god, stop," you mumbled into your cup.

"I'm just kidding. Kind of," he mumbled. "Anyways, Luke's upstairs. He's been waiting for you to get here."

Your youngest cousin, Luke, loved football almost as much as you did. It's his dream to follow in your footsteps and play professionally. He came to as many of your matches as his parents would allow him to. Leila went to mingle while you went up to find him. You found him in the spare room watching old plays on his phone.

"Y/N! Hi!" He jumped off the bed to hug you, nearly knocking his head against your chin. "When'd you get here?"

"Hi, bud. We just got here a few minutes ago. What're you watching?" That question unleashed something in him, and he explained how he was watching clips from MLS in America, and he was trying to analyze whether he agreed with the calls made or not. He had read online that the refs in MLS were some of the worst in the world and he wanted to decide for himself whether he agreed with that or not. So far, he agreed. After about twenty minutes of letting him walk you through every play and the calls, you asked him if he remembered your friend, Leila Ouahabi. He nodded, his cheeks suddenly turning pink.

"She's really pretty," he whispered.

"I agree," you whispered back. "She's downstairs if you want to go say hi." His eyes got wide. "Go say hi. I'm sure she'd love to talk about football with you." He grabbed your hand and pulled you along behind him.

You caught Leila's eyes from the top of the stairs, and you pointed, trying to tell her he was coming down for her. For the next twenty minutes, Leila got a full recap of what you had just heard upstairs. She kept asking him follow-up questions and you could tell he got even more excited every time she interrupted him. At some point you wandered away to refill your egg nog and talk to some other people.

As the afternoon wore on, you made your way around the room, spending time with each of your family members. You made sure to keep an eye on Leila and to periodically relieve her from any uncomfortable conversations. It was during one of these that it happened. Your brother and Uncle Mark had their grips in her, grilling her about her intentions with me. You had caught a snippet of it as you passed and abruptly halted, slipping your hand around her waist.

"That's probably enough of that for today, don't you think?" you asked them, raising an eyebrow.

"No, I don't think so," James said. You saw his eyes flicker up briefly but didn't think anything of it.

"We need to know what's happening, kid," Uncle Mark said.

"We'll tell you when there's something to know," you assured him.

"It seems you've found yourself fallen victim to Gran's mistletoe this year," your aunt said from the couch, just loud enough for everyone to hear. "Have to give her a kiss, Leila. Granny's house, Granny's rules."

"Oh. Um, no, we're good, Aunt Lydia," you said.

"Rules are rules," Gran yelled, banging the tip of her cane against the floor.

"Rules are rules," Leila said. In a whisper, she added, "Come on, just one kiss and they'll leave us alone." She turned into you, the arm around her waist involuntarily dropping a little lower. She moved your hair behind your shoulders with the tips of her fingers. "Sorry for breaking your rule," she said. Cupping your face in her hands, she laid a small kiss on your lips.

"A real kiss for couples!" Gran yelled out. "You're young and in love. Anyone can see that. But right now, you look like cousins saying hello."

"Gran," you grumbled.

"Can't disappoint her," Leila said. 

She brought your face close to her again, stopping when you were a hair’s breadth away. “Sorry for really breaking your rule,” she said. When you sucked in a deep breath, she closed her lips over yours. Your brain short circuited and your fingers reflexively dug into her waist. You ordered yourself to kiss her back. Couldn't have your family thinking you were shocked when your girlfriend kissed you. Her lips were unimaginably soft. When she touched her tongue to your lower lip, your heart dropped into your stomach.

As your hand came up to cup her cheek and bring her closer, she stepped back. Her face was flushed, and her lips were now tinged red from your lipstick. You reached your hand towards her to wipe it off, but her hand moved faster.

"Now that was much better," Gran said. "Good job, James."

You and Leila snapped your heads towards James. "James?" you growled. Normally it was Uncle Mark who helped Gran set up the house for Christmas and hid the mistletoe.

"James?" Leila asked, echoing you. But she sounded more hurt than anything. You looked back at her. She looked to be on the verge of tears.

"Leila, it's just a tradition," he tried to explain. He reached out towards her, and she backed away.

Confused by what was happening, you kept an arm around her for support. "Let's get a drink," you whispered to her.

"Yeah, anyone would need to cool down after that," one of your cousins yelled. You flipped him off as you led her away into the kitchen.

You grabbed two glasses and indicated towards the punch. She nodded. As you filled the cups, you said, "I'm sorry about that. I should've warned you about Granny's antics."

"It's alright, Y/N, I'm not upset about it."

You handed her one of the cups. "Are you sure?"

"Yup. Everything's fine." She sipped her punch, avoiding eye contact.

You didn't believe a word. That kiss had been fire, and you didn't think you were the only one still feeling it. You didn't feel "fine" and you were certain by Leila's reaction to James that something was wrong. "Okay, well. Um." Why did you feel awkward? "We can hide out in here for a few minutes but I'm sure someone else will be coming along soon to interrupt this momentary quiet space they've given us."

The two of you stood there in silence, sipping your drinks. You had never been at a loss for words with Leila before. You spent a lot of time in silence with each other, just hanging out, but it was never because either of you didn't know what to say.

Your thought was interrupted by Luke, wanting to ask Leila a question. She gave you a little smile. Lifting your hand, she pressed a little kiss to it before leaving with him to answer his questions.

You frowned down at your hand. There was a dull ache in your chest after that momentary glimpse of what it could be. That kiss had shifted something in you. Something you had buried a long time ago. You had tried so hard to suppress your feelings towards Leila. Pretending to be her girlfriend had to be one of your stupider ideas. Well, agreeing to pretend to be her girlfriend. Pretending at all was Leila's idea. You could curse her for that. 

For the rest of the afternoon, you tried to calm yourself down and remind yourself it was only until tomorrow. A few days of pretending and then you'd go back to being friends. In a few weeks, you'd call your parents and tell them it hadn't worked out. Maybe the pressure of being on the same team would cause a falling out. It wouldn't be the first time your football career had caused a problem in your dating life. You'd probably text your brother and he'd come to Manchester to take you out for a pint. He'd threaten to hurt Leila for hurting you and you'd calm him down and reassure him that it was you who had ended it. And by the next holiday, they would barely remember that you had brought home Leila this year. Your mom would barely remember saying "aw" every time you shared something cute about your "relationship." Your dad would barely remember bonding with Leila over his new power tools. And James would barely remember joking with Leila around the dinner table. 

Who were you kidding? Your family loved Leila almost more than you. They might never forgive you for "breaking up" with her.

You tried to engage in conversations with your family members and enjoy the holiday. But your eyes kept drifting back to Leila. And every time that happened, you grew a little sadder that this fake relationship was almost over.

During dinner, Leila sat down next to you. You ordered yourself to act happy and to not be awkward. You gave her smiles and casually touched her, as any couple would do. But you barely tasted your food. It went down like cement.

After dinner, your mom shooed everyone into the living room, saying that you and her would clean up. You worked in comfortable silence emptying food into containers while she washed the dishes. When you finished your task, you set to drying dishes so she'd have space for the steady stream of dishes she was still washing. 

"How are you doing? Really?" she asked. 

"I'm doing fine." 

"You just seem a little down is all."

Maybe you weren't fooling anyone after all. "I'm okay. Just a lot on my mind." This lie felt worse than the little lies you'd told all day. In the past, you would have talked to your mom if you were crushing on someone or you were struggling with someone. But you couldn't this time. Because if you did, they would all know that you were a liar. And that Leila had helped you lie to them. 

It was all feeling like too much. 

"It's just football stuff. Nothing to worry about." At least you were setting some context for your future break up story. 

"Okay," she said, not sounding at all convinced. After a few silent moments, she said, "I know we put a lot of pressure on you, but you can always talk to us. If you want."

"I know, mom. It's just football stuff," you said again. Thankfully, she let it go and you two continued to work in silence after that.

When you finished, you went to the living room to ask if anyone wanted tea. Everyone was now sitting around the fireplace, quietly talking. A few hands shot up. You quickly counted off how many you needed and went to the kitchen to boil the water. You arranged the cup and saucers on one of Gran's Christmas-themed trays.

As you took the tray around the room, you noticed both James and Leila were missing. You asked your dad if he'd seen them. He said they had gone out for a walk after dinner and hadn't come back yet. You glanced up at the clock. You'd finished dinner almost an hour ago. Looking out the window, you could see that it was still snowing outside. Frowning, you sat down next to him to sip your tea and wait for them while Simon read A Christmas Carol aloud.

They didn't come back for another half hour. Leila's eyes looked red, from the cold or from crying you couldn't tell. You raised your eyebrow at James, and he just smiled at you. He whispered something to Leila and then disappeared into the kitchen. She looked at you for a moment before coming to sit on the floor near you. You could feel her shivering and pulled the throw off the sofa to give her.

"Thank you." She took it and wrapped it tight around her.

"Why were you gone so long?" you whispered, still leaning down towards her.

"We were just talking."

"You okay?"

"Just tired. But I'm okay," she reassured. She squeezed your calf and gave you a half smile. "Ah, my prince," she said, lifting her hands when James walked in with two teacups.

"Anything for you, sis," he said with a wink. He sat down across from her on the floor, leaning back against the opposite sofa. The remainder of the evening, you kept catching them give each other looks. It was like they were having their own conversation, all without words, and all without anyone's input. You couldn't see Leila's face, but you could see her shoulders move every so often and see her shake her head.

Simon finished reading a little after 9pm. Everyone started moving, cleaning up the living room so Gran wouldn't be left with any mess. It took only 10 minutes with everyone's help. The end of A Christmas Carol always signaled the end of the night.

"Good night," you said, leaning over to give Gran a kiss on the cheek.

"Oh, good night, sweetheart. Thank you for bringing your sweet girlfriend for Christmas."

"I know she enjoyed being here too." You gave her one more hug, but she tightened her arm around your neck before you could stand up.

"Don't let her go. She's a special girl."

You couldn't say anything, tears caught in your throat. Instead, you smiled at her and nodded as you stood up straight.

The drive home felt endless, squished between your brother and Leila. Your earlier sadness at this charade ending tomorrow had morphed into desperation for it to end. When you got to the house, you helped unload the car before quickly saying good night and escaping to your room. You scooped up Dot on your way up. You needed the comfort of your pet tonight. Hot tears burned your eyes and soaked your pillow for the guilt of having put your family through this. Why had you ever thought this was the answer? Why had you ever agreed to let Leila come here? Dot snuggled into your side, and you kissed the top of her head, glad she wasn't protesting not being allowed to sleep in another room.

You don't know what time you eventually went to bed, but you know you were still crying when sleep took you.

In the morning, you quietly packed your bags before going down. The train was not until 11am. Your mom had promised to make a nice breakfast before you left. Figuring you should help with that, you dressed quickly and went downstairs.

"Good morning," your dad greeted. He was coming in from outside, shaking snow off his boots.

"Good morning, dad." You walked through to the kitchen. "Hi, mom."

"Ah you're up. Good morning." She stood at the counter, cutting onions.

"What can I help with?"

"Actually, do you mind going out to the garden? Leila asked me to have you come out when you woke up. She's been out there a while now."

"Oh. Um, okay." You didn't think you were prepared for this just yet. But they were both looking at you, waiting for you to move. "Right. Okay, I'll just grab my coat." You took your time getting your coat and shoes on.

You found her sitting on the garden wall. She looked really cold. The tip of her nose was red. She was frantically rubbing her hands together. "Leila?" She looked up at you. "Maybe we should talk inside? It'll be warmer."

"No. No, I don’t want anyone to hear this conversation."

"Okay." You stayed where you were, not sure if she wanted you to sit down or even move closer. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I've been thinking."

"I can see that."

"Just let me finish. I won't be able to finish if you talk in the middle." She nervously rubbed her hands over her thighs. "I don't have perfect words. I'm not really like poetic or whatever."

"What-"

"No. Wait. Look, these last couple days have been great. But I didn't think they would affect me as much as they have."

"What-"

"Shut up." She looked up at you. "I need to tell you that I'm yours. Have been for a while, if I'm being completely honest. I don't know if you want me. But I belong to you. I'm yours, if you want me."

You stood there, unmoving, staring at her, your jaw slack in astonishment. Your breath was coming out in little streams of fog.

"Now you're going to stand mute? You're stolen my heart, Y/N, the least you can do is tell me what you intend to do with it."

You'd never believed that hearts actually skipped a beat in moments like these but there was no other way to describe what was happening in your chest. Taking a few large steps towards her, you grabbed her lapel to bring her face closer to yours and kissed her. Your grip on her softened as she slowly stood, never breaking contact with you. Your hands moved up her neck so you could wrap your arms around her.

"Okay I'll take that as a response," she said, her eyes still closed.

Giggling, you kissed her again.

"Hmm. Yes. I'll definitely take that." She opened her eyes to look at you, her arms staying around your waist. "Do you. Um. Wait, will you be my real girlfriend?"

"I think I could manage that." You smiled brightly, playing with the hair on the back of her neck. "What're we going to tell my parents?"

"I think they already know," she said, pointing over your shoulder at the house. You turned to see the three of them squeezed together to see out the tiny side window. Your dad awkwardly waived while your brother just grinned, and your mom wiped a tear from her eye.

"How did they?"

"James figured it out the first night."

"Of course he did." You turned back to her. "Let's go inside, you're freezing." You took her hand in yours and pulled her towards the front of the house. This time when you walked in the door, you went as real girlfriends, instead of fake girlfriends. Your heart was at the fullest it had been in years.

Your mom was still crying as she rushed towards both of you, pulling you both into a hug. "Oh, my sweet girls!" She kissed the side of both of your heads. "I'm just so so happy for both of you."

"Thanks, mom," you said, hugging her back.

"Go, get warm," she said, stepping back and wiping more tears from her eyes. "Breakfast will be ready soon."

You took her to the living room, to the couch in front of the fire. Sitting down, you pulled her down with you and covered her with a blanket. The chill hadn't yet hit your bones, like it had Leila. You wrapped your arms around her to hold her close and transfer as much of your heat to her as you could.

"What're we going to tell the girls on Monday?" she asked.

"We'll just be honest."

"That I pretended to be your fake girlfriend because I thought it'd be the closet I got to being your real girlfriend and then your idiot brother played antics to actually make it real?"

"Maybe we can leave a few things out." She shivered again and you brought the blanket up more tightly around her. "How long were you out there?"

"Like an hour."

"Leila!"

"Girls, breakfast is ready," your dad called out.

When Leila stood up, you took off your jumper and gave it to her. "Wear this. It'll help." She pulled it over her head, and you straightened it when it got caught in her long sleeve shirt.

"Thanks."

Your mom had put together a full English breakfast. It wasn't typical that she made it all at once but during the holidays, especially on travel days, she liked to make sure everyone had enough food in their bellies. As everyone ate, you looked around the table. There was laughter and talking over each other. There was love and friendship. There was everything you'd ever wanted at this table. You'd never felt incomplete but somehow in this moment, you felt whole. Nothing really made sense to you either.

"Does this mean mom still wins the bet?" your dad asked.

"You can split it," you answered. "Just as long as James loses," you added with a huge smile.

"Hey, you would've ended up alone if I hadn't meddled," he said.

"Oh great. Now he's going to have a big head about that."

"You'll be too busy in your little love bubble to even notice how big my head is about to get," he retorted.

"Are they fighting or saying nice things?" Leila asked your mom.

"A little of both."

James ended up paying both your parents £50, although mom insisted she had won because Leila had asked to be your fake girlfriend and had been the first to say how she felt. But dad wasn't having it.

They dropped you at the train station, promising to come watch a match and visit soon. The train ride to Manchester was similar to the ride home for Christmas. Leila read while you and Dot slept. Except this time, she lifted the arm rest between you and opened her arm to let you more comfortably sleep on her shoulder. You slept peacefully all the way home to Manchester, cuddled into her side.

[celuere]

lockjaw

pairing: sub!arlecchino x fem!reader

context: when your husband comes home drained of her energy and completely exhausted, you decide to return the favor and give her a nice… treat…

cw: needy arlecchino, faceriding, teasing, overstimulation, there is only one hing that can make the knave scream and it‘s her wife‘s mouth, will be using wife and husband on arle in this one because i see her not minding what of the two you‘ll use on her, she lowkey loosed it idk man

word count: 2.5k

art creds: lilly of the valley

on a rather rainy saturday you were sat comfortably underneath the warmth of your covers, dragging a red pencil over the children’s recent homework. with the clock chiming in for 11pm, the other side of your bed was still suspiciously empty. 

weird. usually she should be home by now… perhaps she is staying in her office at zapolyarny palace tonight due to the heavy downpour, which would be inconvenient. the two of you still had to plan the upcoming vacation for the hearth, a break with the children has been long overdue. you were thinking of visiting inazumas‘s watatsumi island, the cultural aspect and stunning scenery of the inazuman region always appealed you, but given your husband‘s status and the latest events between the last fatui harbinger and the shogun… maybe chenyu vale would also be a lovely destination.

your head jerked up as you were pulled out of your train of thoughts by the sound of a heavy door being shut, followed by some faint fontainian cursing echoing through the halls.

seems like your husband did make it home through the awful weather. you did not bother leaving the comfort of your bed as you already heard the soft thuds of her feet dragging her up the stairs while your gaze was still fixed on the mathematical equation before you.

eventually you‘ll have to give the kids another lesson about addition and multiplication. the old metal hinges of the door creaked softly in response to your husband pushing her way inside. 

„i‘ll get them oiled tomorrow.“, she‘d say almost every time, only to end up forgetting it in the midst of her harbinger work.

but not today.

today you were simply just greeted with a soft, almost inaudible „good evening, love.“. the lack of her usual deeper, serious tone caused you to lift your eyes up from the papers you were currently holding and… dear archons.

„what on earth happened with you?“

„don‘t mention it.“, with her hair dripping wet from getting caught in the weather, down to her… dirty and crinkled clothes… your husband looked like she‘s seen hell. you could swear she looked around five years younger when she left the house this morning. even her hair looked like a mess.

you watched your spouse slowly starting to shed out of her clothed, starting by unbuttoning her silken blazer, you could audibly hear her taking a very deep inhale through her nose, „i wanted to be home two hours ago, if it were not for the glorious ideas of our children.“, by now you could see they’ll steam slowly emitting from her wet strands, gotta put that curse to use somehow.

„what kind of idea required you to come home looking like… a dirty cat...?“, you put the homework aside to focus your attention fully on her as her hands fumbled with the buckle of her belt. what a sight.

„they thought it to be a clever… almost glorious idea to play hide and seek in the forest nearby the town. only to come back with not one but two of their siblings missing.“, your eyes widened as she explained the recent of you, but just as you wanted to speak up, arlecchino raised her hand and continued talking, „i naturally… reprimanded them and walked with them back to their… playground where i spent the last two hours looking for the rest of these buffoons. with my footwear. in muddy terrain. [name], they will spend the rest of the month helping around in the house. no missions. strict bedtime. the garden is long overdue for a change anyway. and we‘re not getting them the two dogs they have been begging for.“, she clicked her tongue in frustration as she failed to open up the belt before simply giving up and letting her head sag along with her shoulders.

it has been a while since you saw her so fed up. 

„honey… calm down now…“, sighing, you pushed back the blanket that was covering your lower half and rose up from the mattress. crimson eyes fixating your face as you came to a stop before her and slowly started to open up her belt.

„the children learned their lesson… sure, that idea was indeed not of high intelligence but they‘re kids at the end of the day. nobody got hurt and they‘re all safely tucked in the security of our house now… and that is all what matters.“, your hands slowly pulled the leather away from her pants and placing it neatly over the chair in front of your make up desk.

„i am very well aware of that, it‘s just… archons above, they scared the living daylights out of me…“, a sigh so deep and heavy left her throat that it had you staring up her for a good few moments, finally taking a closer look at her beautiful face which was laced with exhaustion.

„i can understand that more than well enough… but getting yourself worked up all over again will do you no good, darling. was the rest of your day at least better?“, you hooked your fingers underneath the hem of her pants to tug them down for her.

„don‘t. get me started. not now. not when i‘m with my wife…“, her black hand reached up to tug some of your lost strands back behind your ear.

and something clicked inside your head.

it has been a while since she was on the receiving end. actually… it has been months since then. and seeing how… exhausted she was right now as she got changed into her sleepwear…

before you could stop yourself, your hand grabbed after her wrist just as she wanted to put on her pants. your husband raised a questioning eyebrow at your move.

„something the matter?“

„get on the bed. please… i have just the right idea to relieve you.“, tugging her now gently towards the bed by her wrist… arlecchino did not protest. at all. maybe she was clueless. or maybe she was just too exhausted to care.

she wordlessly watched you crawl onto bed and lay down flat on your back before she sighed, „ma cherie… i would love to take care of my wife, but i really am not in the mood to buckle up one of our various toys today.“

she gave you one of her rare apologetic smiles as she wanted to proceed with putting her pyjama pants on.

„peruere.“

the usage of her real name caused her to look back at you in slight bewilderment. that name was reserved for serious, intimate situations after all. whenever you wanted her to either listen to you or when she had you gripping and moaning into the sheets until your voice grew hoarse and your knuckles white.

„sit. and i don‘t mean in front of or besides me.“, your face showed not a single sign of amusement nor sarcasm as you gestured with one of your manicured nails to your face. you could see her visibly gulp at the realization of what you were implying.

„i… ma chérie, tu ne peux pas t'attendre à ce que je…“

„my darling, you can‘t possibly expect me to…“

„i am. now sit. please… you‘d do the same for me, i‘m certain…“, that seemed to do the trick for her because just mere moments later her pants found themselves discarded on her side of the bed and she making her way up to your face, even if she was hesitant at first.

„don‘t be shy now… come here, gorgeous…“, you allowed yourself to grab onto her hips to speed up this torturously slow process, the mattress sinking down further beneath her weight. she lets a soft gasp out at your grip before you were met with a wonderfully sweet view on the small wet spot that formed on your wife‘s plain red panties.

„excited, are we, hm…?“, you could not keep that teasing grin off of lips even if your life depended on it. seeing the usually composed and dominant woman struggling to maintain eye contact with you was too adorable to not bathe in her embarrassment.

„quit that attitude or i‘ll-“, a sharp inhale followed as you interrupted her by pressing a soft kiss right onto the wet stain on her clothed pussy before you invited yourself to pull the fabric aside.

„i barely touched you and you‘re almost dripping over my mouth… who would think the knave is so easy to rile up…“, your mouth almost started to water at the sight of her slick folds, waiting to be licked clean by none other than you.

„a-are-“, she had to clear her throat, „are you done with torturing me- Oh-!“, a strong hand found its way almost immediately into your hair the moment you pressed her down on your mouth, your tongue gliding up her cunt, gathering her arousal before you almost eagerly swallowed. this woman tasted so unbelievably good and she had no idea. not a single clue of how every small gulp of her fluids snapped the restraints of your self control one by one. sharp nails scratched along your scalp as you finally paid her almost aching clit some attention by sucking her into your mouth, nibbling on the sensitive bundle of nerves and believe it or not. it did not take long until her hips started moving against your face. 

arlecchino peruere tried her utmost to keep her voice down, to not let you know how badly she enjoyed her wife eating the living the daylights out of her pussy, but she gave it all away by how she almost desperately humped your face. one hand keeping your head in place as the other had an almost deadly grip onto the wooden headboard. she did not know how badly she needed this, to just hand over the leash every once in a while. 

and as expected. it did not long for your husbands first high of the evening to hit her like an aquabus. thighs quivering around your head. her juices running down both sides of your face as she rode out her orgasm on your face, but even then she barely made any sounds besides the occasional gasp and „shit“ being muttered underneath her hot breath. 

much to your dismay.

that is why you kept her pressed down. kept her wet pussy right on your mouth as you pressed your tongue flat against her before you let movements of her own hips do the rest as her arousal ran down your throat. 

„fuck…yes…“, the humping slowly turned into a more rocking motion, dragging her whole cunt over your messed up face. you ignored how soaked your own panties were by now. or how you were clenching around nothing. all of that did not matter when the first soft moan slipped past her lips as her second orgasm came crashing down on her way sooner than expected. she was trembling by now. you could even feel the hand gripping your hair shivering slightly and she has the ridiculous idea to try and get off your face. we couldn‘t have that. right?

„you are not going anywhere…“, bringing her dripping pussy back down on your face by her thighs, you knew exactly what do with your tongue this time. 

„ah-!!! hold on-! th-that is not- hah-!!“, a moan from the depths of her throat so guttural bounced off the walls, it sent a fucking shiver down your spine. slipping your tongue inside her obviously seemed like the perfect choice. 

she was so incredibly sensitive, every little move of yours seemed to sent her jolting against you. and she was whining. whining and whimpering, begging for a short break, to just let her breathe for a second when you continued to tonguefuck her, your nose nuzzled against her swollen clit, your whole face was covered in sweat and other bodily fluids by now from her earlier faceriding. 

so celestia help this tortured soul when the wooden headboard seemed to slowly start cracking underneath her literal deathgrip. she could not handle her wife. she couldn‘t handle the overwhelming pleasure sending bolts of ecstasy through her body and she certainly couldn‘t handle the third orgasm you shoved down her throat. you coul barely see anything down there other than few black and neatly trimmed pubes, but you were drowning in her.

and did she really think it would stop here?

„b-break- l-love please… i-“, was the knave sobbing right now? sobbing over getting her literal soul sucked out of her pussy? you will never let her live this down. ever.

but in the back of your mind you already knew she will pay you back. tenfold. but that was a problem to worry about for another day. the only thing that mattered now was getting her through a fourth orgasm now. 

clearly, you weren‘t nearly as skilled as her when it came to mouthwork, but you memorized quite a lot from your past experiences with her. for example how to nicely curl up your tongue in an enjoyable manner for her and you didn‘t know if hated or loved it by the way her moan rung in your ears.

pathetic, was she not?

amidst the fog of her taste covering your mind, you could not help but moan into her warmth, pressing your legs together to somehow soothe the almost hurting emptiness between them. it has been a while since you were this down. you are sure that there must have formed a stain on the sheets underneath you already.

and you did not even notice when the juices from her fourth climax dripped into your mouth. you were so fixed, so obsessed with savoring every single drop of her arousal as the poor woman above you tried calming down from the raw energy clouding her mind, lungs burning along with every single one of her poor muscles. her thighs were practically numb by now.

but neither of you noticed the smell of burnt wood filling the room until you finally opened your eyes to look up at your poor husband.

only to see the headboard she was holding onto for dear life simmering and smoking underneath her hand, with a small flame slowly starting to form right underneath, her arm completely drowned in a bloody red.

„m-mh-!!!!“, now slapping her thighs and trying to catch her attention, you were the one getting nervous now.

„hm…? what is it now…?“, she groaned as she slowly lifted her head up- and groaned even more at sight of the destroyed headboard.

„archons above, not again.“, she ran a hand over her sweaty face before snapping her fingers and getting off of your face. the fire simply seized from existence.

with a soft tint of pink decorating her face she looked down at you, crimson eyes screaming anything but soft, „just to be… clear… this never happened.“

„you were a bit too loud for that to be true-“, another snap echoed from somewhere far away, rendering you silent. you just stuck out your tongue to her.

but it was worth it when you watched her try to get out of bed the next morning without looking an old grandma.

[yelenasdiary]

Hi 👋🏾 I just sent a request in not too long ago but I forgot to specify that it's a Fem!Reader it was this one :

something where everyone thinks R is treating wanda poorly bc they're polar opposites (R is kinda a brick wall + wanda isn't all perky but she's just nice and more open) and wanda hasn't come around since they've been together but in reality wanda is just so happy that she's forgotten about everyone ?

Consumed By You

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem! Reader, Avengers x Fem! Reader

Summary: Wanda’s family think you don’t treat Wanda right…

Angst with Happy ending. 

Warnings: Hints of an abusive relationship? | 1.1K

AC: Thank you for sending this. I personally don’t like how somebody can just drop or ‘forget’ about their friends/family just because they’re dating somebody so this is a little angst and Wanda kinda gets a reality check. I hope you enjoy! 

It had been months since the compound was filled with the warm smell of freshly baked muffins that Wanda would often bake for the team. At first, it was understandable. She found somebody she really liked and wanted to spend more time with them. But as days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months, Wanda’s family couldn’t let the thought that her absence was against her will. 

Natasha was the one to bring the issue to Wanda’s attention, sending her a flurry of frantic texts, trying not to scare the woman away. 

“They miss me” Wanda said, her voice soft as she looked up at her phone. Sitting on the sofa beside you, her head resting against your shoulder as you were reading a new book you had recently picked up. 

“You should go see them” you replied. Wanda sighed, remembering the last time she saw them. “I don’t know, I don’t think I want to hear about how the world is in danger yet again”

You finished reading the paragraph you were on before closing your book and gently placing a hand on her knee, “I think you should see them, baby” you said softly.

“I guess I could pop in for an hour tomorrow” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. 

You could hear the doubt in her voice, “how about I come with you” you suggested, “I mean, if you want” you added.

Wanda’s face lit up as she lifted her head to look at you, “Really? You want to come?”

“Yeah” you smiled softly, meeting her gaze, “this if your family” 

Wanda smiled before placing a soft kiss on your lips and texting Nat the news. 

The next day, you and Wanda arrived at the compound around midday. Her family greeted her with smiles and hugs, happy to finally see her after so long. You greeted the Avengers politely, even though you noticed the surprised looks from Steve and the deep glaring gaze from Natasha, you tried to ignore it for Wanda’s sake but deep down, you didn’t feel very welcomed. 

Later, after conversations of catching up over pizza and Tony’s questionable cocktails, you watched Wanda from afar as she reconnected with those she called family. “So, Wanda tells me you’re quite the artist” Pepper smiled, taking a seat beside you, taking your attention away from Wanda. 

You chuckled lightly, “well, I wouldn’t say that. I like to make things sometimes” you turned to her. 

What you didn’t see was Wanda being whisked away by Nat, Clint and Steve. While you and Pepper spoke about your crafts and love for art, Wanda was confused by the three’s confusing words.

“Are you okay?” Natasha asked sternly with a hint of worry in her voice. Wanda frowned with confusion, “yes, I’m fine” 

“Are you sure? Because you don’t have to leave with her today. We’ll keep you safe” Steve inserted, making Wanda even more confused as her eyes shifted to him. “What are you guys talking about? I’m fine?” She replied. 

“Wands, this is the first time in months we’ve seen you. You don’t come around anymore….we barely hear from you and when we do, its short and sweet” Natasha explained. 

“We’re just worried that Y/n is…well, keeping you from seeing others” Clint added. 

Wanda couldn’t help but chuckle at the ridiculous assumptions. “Y/n isn’t keeping me from seeing anybody, you can’t be serious right now” 

“We’re serious Wanda” Natasha replied, again in a stern tone. Her tone making Wanda look between the three Avengers, seeing they weren’t in the slightest joking. “Guys” she started, “Y/n is nothing but loving and supportive of me” she continues. 

“We see how she treats you and little she seems to engage. It feels a little…dismissive” Steve confessed.

Wanda’s heart clenched. “She isn’t dismissive” she defended, “it’s just she’s a little quieter than others. She’s not expressive like everybody else, that doesn’t mean she doesn’t care”

“Maybe not to you…but from the outside” Clint trailed off. 

“You’ve barely seen her! You don’t know her” Wanda argued. 

Natasha stepped forward, not wanting the argument to get too heated. “We’re just worried. You seem distant and like you’ve completely forgotten about us. You met her and suddenly you were gone. I think you can see where we are coming from” 

Wanda sighed heavily, seeing how her relationship looked to her family. “I promise you, it’s not like what you’re thinking. I just, I’ve just been so happy that I didn’t want to come here and have that dawning feeling that it could be taken away from me” she started. “I didn’t mean for this to hurt you all” she added. 

“You deserve to be happy, Wanda. You deserve the world” Steve said, placing a hand on her shoulder, “but the world isn’t Y/n” he added. 

“You can’t just cut everybody out, even if you are happy” Clint said, “we’re your family. We’re here for you, always. Even if you’re in a relationship. We want to know her, we want to be a part of your life too” he went on.

A wave of guilt washed over Wanda, she’d been so consumed in you and her feelings for you that she didn’t realize that her excuses for neglecting to enjoy life outside of her relationship was turning those closest to her. “I understand” she said, her voice sincere. “I’m sorry, I haven’t been fair, and I don’t want you all to keep this image that Y/n is a bad partner because she is so far from that. I want you guy to see how wonderful she is” 

Nat smiled softly at her friend, “then allow us that. We want to know how great she is but she can’t do that if you close us out” 

Wanda nodded softly, “I know….how about we start with a weekly dinner?” She offered. The three standing before her smiled, “sounds like a great start” Steve said. 

The talk wasn’t easy, and it left Wanda feeling a bit exposed, but she knew deep down they were right. She had a life beyond you, but she was so scared that life would take you from her. As she walked out with Nat, Clint & Steve behind her, she saw you laughing with Pepper. The image in front of her made her smile as she wandered over to you. 

“What did I miss?” Wanda asked softly, taking a seat beside you. 

“Y/n was just telling me a story about the two you” Pepper smiled softly, 

“Yeah, remember that time you made me try some of those ridiculous TikTok filters?” You looked to your partner, giving her a soft smile. Wanda nodded, the memory flashing through her mind, “wait until I show the others the screenshots” she chuckles. 

“Don’t you dare!” Your eyes widen. Something about her presence felt different but you didn’t want to question it. Wanda teased, pulling out her phone as she broke into a laughter you haven’t heard in a very long time. 

“Oh, come on baby, the world show see these!” She laughed. “Please, it’s the last thing the world needs!” You laughed along with her.

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[dufferpuffer]

The more I check and analyze this bloody chapter the more it cements for me how distant but NICE Dumbledore is shown to be. Remus Lupin level of being friendly and gentle but not wanting to make attachments.

The only way to make it seem otherwise, that he is being a prick to this 11yr old boy, is to misinterpret quotes out of context. Am I an incorrect silly? I don't think so, but It's not off the table. I'm gonna take points from all the previous posters here and give my reasoning's, so let me know:

1: Albus thinks Tom is unreasonable for saying he was 'special'.

“He believed it much quicker than I did — I mean, when you told him he was a wizard,” said Harry. “I didn’t believe Hagrid at first, when he told me.” "Yes, Riddle was perfectly ready to believe he was - to use his word - 'special,' " said Dumbledore.

Wow. Suddenly, with context, Albus doesn't sound rude anymore! It's highlighting differences between Harry and Tom as people, neutrally - Harry didn't believe he could be special. Tom did. Nobody is giving him shit for that. Why would they? 'Wizard' and 'Special' are basically synonymous.

In fact, Albus called having Magic being 'Special' FIRST:

“I am not from the asylum,” said Dumbledore patiently. “I am a teacher and, if you will sit down calmly, I shall tell you about Hogwarts. Of course, if you would rather not come to the school, nobody will force you —” “I’d like to see them try,” sneered Riddle. “Hogwarts,” Dumbledore went on, as though he had not heard Riddle’s last words, “is a school for people with special abilities —” “I’m not mad!” “I know that you are not mad. Hogwarts is not a school for mad people. It is a school of magic.”

Either Dumbledore was being a blatant hypocrite in a way Harry didn't pick up on... …Or he wasn't giving Tom shit for thinking himself 'special'.

To forcibly read a sarcastic, negative, judgemental and biting tone: keep in mind this is 60 years later. 60 years he feels partially responsible for, as Tom acted as a murderer under his nose and became Lord Voldemort. Surely he could be excused for being a little salty now.

But how did Albus act towards him when it happened...?

“I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to.” His legs were trembling. He stumbled forward and sat down on the bed again, staring at his hands, his head bowed as though in prayer. “I knew I was different,” he whispered to his own quivering fingers. “I knew I was special. Always, I knew there was something.” “Well, you were quite right,” said Dumbledore, who was no longer smiling, but watching Riddle intently. “You are a wizard.”

Tom is excited his ability to move things, control animals, do bad things and hurt others makes him different, makes him 'special'. Albus AGREES with him. 'Yes, Tom - you ARE special. You were right to think those things make you a very special boy.'

As I will go through in more detail than this continuing on in the post - Albus was NOT judgemental towards Tom in the past at all. Even Harry is surprised at how trusting and generous he is to Tom.

2. Albus set the wardrobe on fire to punish and instill fear in Tom - a stupid idea, because that will only make Tom hate him.

Alright, lets see how much Tom hated and feared him for that:

The wardrobe burst into flames. Riddle jumped to his feet; Harry could hardly blame him for howling in shock and rage; all his worldly possessions must be in there. But even as Riddle rounded on Dumbledore, the flames vanished, leaving the wardrobe completely undamaged. Riddle stared from the wardrobe to Dumbledore; then, his expression greedy, he pointed at the wand. “Where can I get one of them?”

The picture of a traumatized child: Shocked by a magic trick then gleefully wanting his own wand to learn to do it himself.

But - it is true that Dumbledore frightened him:

“All in good time,” said Dumbledore. “I think there is something trying to get out of your wardrobe.” And sure enough, a faint rattling could be heard from inside it. For the first time, Riddle looked frightened. […] Riddle took down the quaking box. He looked unnerved. “Is there anything in that box that you ought not to have?” asked Dumbledore. Riddle threw Dumbledore a long, clear, calculating look. “Yes, I suppose so, sir,” he said finally, in an expressionless voice.

Oh dear. He is frightened - not of the flames but of consequences to his actions! Why is Albus doing this horrible, terrible thing...?

“You will return them to their owners with your apologies,” said Dumbledore calmly, putting his wand back into his jacket. “I shall know whether it has been done. And be warned: Thieving is not tolerated at Hogwarts.” […] “At Hogwarts,” Dumbledore went on, “we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have — inadvertently, I am sure — been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school. You are not the first, nor will you be the last, to allow your magic to run away with you. But you should know that Hogwarts can expel students, and the Ministry of Magic — yes, there is a Ministry — will punish lawbreakers still more severely. All new wizards must accept that, in entering our world, they abide by our laws.”

Well look at that! It's all been a lesson from the man he has just accepted as a Professor on controlling one's magic! Magic Lesson 1: he has inadvertently been letting his Magic run away with him (like many do) in ways that Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic (both far more powerful than Albus) will punish him for.

Notice that he takes any guilt, shame and blame off of Tom's shoulders? Saying that his behavior is common! Understandable! He isn't accusing him of intentionally doing anything wrong, even when the Matron had suggested he was. He is assuming Tom's innocence - or at the very least giving him an easy way out of guilt into a new life: 'Give the Muggles back their trinkets and wipe your slate clean.'

Following the rules of this new world is a CHOICE - and he will be guided through learning all the rules at school. He is literally saying 'Hogwarts and the Ministry won't be as lenient with his behavior as I am, but it's okay - you will be taught.'

The flames were not meant to frighten - they were part of a lesson on the importance of learning to control ones destructive magic. Tom actually quite liked the flames - and was more worried about being found out and punished for his bad behavior.

Yet he wasn't punished for that, either. Unless you call being asked to give stolen things back punishment, in which case he got the lightest slap on the wrist with a little kiss better afterwards.

3. Albus dangles school attendance in the form of getting Tom to call him Sir - 'if you accept your place at my school you'll have to call me sir'

He doesn't dangle anything - and he doesn't phrase it like that.

“I have told you. My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at my school — your new school, if you would like to come.” “You can’t kid me! The asylum, that’s where you’re from, isn’t it? ‘Professor,’ yes, of course — well, I’m not going, see? That old cat’s the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they’ll tell you!” “I am not from the asylum,” said Dumbledore patiently. “I am a teacher and, if you will sit down calmly, I shall tell you about Hogwarts. Of course, if you would rather not come to the school, nobody will force you —” “I’d like to see them try,” sneered Riddle. […] “Are you a wizard too?" “Yes, I am.” “Prove it,” said Riddle at once, in the same commanding tone he had used when he had said, “Tell the truth.” Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “If, as I take it, you are accepting your place at Hogwarts —” “Of course I am!” “Then you will address me as ‘Professor’ or ‘sir.’

Tom has been yelling at Dumbledore. Sneering at him. Threatening him. Calling him a liar. Talking over him. Commanding him.

Things Albus never tells him off for, never even brings up - things he has simply withstood and been patient with, as Tom is upset. But now that Tom is calming down - now that he is choosing to listen, to believe and to be a student at Hogwarts - he will need to act like one and call him 'Professor' instead of 'Liar' and 'Doctor'.

And it is always phrased as a choice. The place at the school is offered. He can choose to come. If he would like to calm down a little, he can be told more about it - but nobody will force him to do anything. He says, from his own free will, that he would like to be a student. His attendance is accepted: Albus is, from now, his Professor.

4. Albus drops the reassuring facade the moment Tom says he is special.

Reassuring things Albus says/does after Tom says he is Special:

+ “At Hogwarts,” Dumbledore went on, “we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have — inadvertently, I am sure — been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school. You are not the first, nor will you be the last, to allow your magic to run away with you."

+ When he had finished, he turned to Dumbledore and said baldly, “I haven’t got any money.” “That is easily remedied,” said Dumbledore, drawing a leather money-pouch from his pocket.

+ “Where do you buy spellbooks?” interrupted Riddle, who had taken the heavy money bag without thanking Dumbledore, and was now examining a fat gold Galleon. “In Diagon Alley,” said Dumbledore. “I have your list of books and school equipment with me. I can help you find everything —” “You’re coming with me?” asked Riddle, looking up. “Certainly, if you —” “I don’t need you,” said Riddle. (doesn't tell him off for snatching, doesn't insist on politeness, doesn't ask him not to interrupt, offers to come with him…)

+ Harry thought that Dumbledore would insist upon accompanying Riddle, but once again he was surprised. Dumbledore handed Riddle the envelope containing his list of equipment, and after telling Riddle exactly how to get to the Leaky Cauldron from the orphanage, he said, “You will be able to see it, although Muggles around you — non-magical people, that is — will not. Ask for Tom the barman — easy enough to remember, as he shares your name —” (trusts Tom to go by himself, like he wants to do - a strange choice if he was worried about how evil he is. Harry thinks it's surprising.)

+ “Was my father a wizard? He was called Tom Riddle too, they’ve told me.” “I’m afraid I don’t know,” said Dumbledore, his voice gentle.

+ “All the details are on the second piece of parchment in your envelope,” said Dumbledore. “You will leave from King’s Cross Station on the first of September. There is a train ticket in there too.” Riddle nodded. Dumbledore got to his feet and held out his hand again. (Shakes his hand. The hand of an 11yr old 'worthless' orphan, a boy used to having every adult hate and distrust him.)

Definitely the actions of a man who thinks the worst of Tom.

5. Dumbledore shows Tom he is undesirable and will be treated like a future criminal even in the Wizarding World - he has already been catalogued as trouble.

Indeed. By calling him special twice, offering him a place at a special school for special people, being calm and patient when he was upset, casually waving away all his wrongdoings, warning that they are considered illegal actions in the Wizarding World but promising he will be taught how to act in accordance to his new laws, not once commenting on his rude actions, shaking his hand on greeting and goodbye, allowing him to act freely without supervision, trusting him with money when he has a past of theft - Albus is DEFINITELY making sure Tom knows that he is already considered undesirable and a future criminal.

6. Hagrid stood up for Harry against his abusers - Albus didn't do that for Tom.

He didn't do it as overtly as bashing down a door, taking over the room and scaring the shit out of some Muggles. But I would argue he did stand up for him - for his sense of self.

Tom was scared of two things:

Doctors coming to say he is mad.

Being punished for bad behavior.

Straight up: Albus gave him the option for a new life with a clean slate and also confirmed he was special, not mad. He was so SOFT. Understanding. He's had heard 100 horrible things and yet just waves them away, doesn't bring anything up. Traumatized little kids? Killed an animal? Whatever. You're a Wizard.

Tom says he will give back the stolen things, that he wants to go to Hogwarts... so Albus bends over backwards giving him all the forgiveness and freedom he hasn't had before. Trusting him. Albus is acting unlike any adult Tom has likely ever met - from the moment he walked in and shook his hand like a friend.

No, Albus didn't tell off the Matron. He drugged her and used magic on her to get what he wanted - but he didn't tell her off. Does he really need to, though, when the message of 'You will be leaving this awful place behind, Tom. Leave these childish, dull things behind and come be special.' is so clear…?

(Honestly I'm not sure what he would even say, as far as Orphanage Matrons go she was quite good. She cared about Tom's well being and privacy, gives the kids their own rooms, allowed them to have their own toys and books and even pets, knows the kids' names and preferences, cares for their well being enough to drive her ragged. She's hardly perfect, but for the 1930s when Workhouses were still around - she's alright. As all the kids aren't stuffed into big rooms filled with beds and made to work their asses off - her orphanage is far better than most. Harry liked her.)

In Summary:

Nobody thinks Tom was unreasonable for thinking he was special. Albus didn't try to scare him with magic tricks - and any 'punishment' Tom suffered was about as strong as a pat on the head. Rather than give Tom ultimatums or hold promises at arms length he constantly gave him patience and options. The most he asked of Tom was to give back stolen toys to their owners before he left - and to call him 'Professor'. He was friendly and reassuring the entire conversation - and freely gave trust and forgiveness for everything from criminal activities to simple impoliteness, like talking over him and not saying thankyou. While Albus didn't beat anyone up in-front of Tom, he did promise him everything he had ever dreamed of - and delivered.

He acted like a calm, understanding adult in the face of both Tom's defensiveness and his excitement - guiding him gently but understanding the importance of giving the boy what he needs: A bit of freedom from the constant scrutiny he has faced.

I went through in meticulous detail the entire scene here, though I might want to rewrite it sometime, idk.

"Yes, Riddle was perfectly ready to believe he was - to use his word - 'special,' " said Dumbledore.

-- Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

I know that he's trying to imply here that Riddle already had budding megalomaniacal tendencies. But come ON. His powers were highly developed. He could move things with his mind. It's not unreasonable for him to conclude that he is special and can do things others cannot; that's just the literal truth. Also, I'd like to point out that Riddle actually first says "I knew I was different." But I guess Dumbledore wants to skip over that bit.

And over the implications. Riddle is, as far as he knows, the only person who can do what he does. He knows nothing about the magical world or what he is. For all he knows he really is haunted or possessed by a demon or something. Part of him must have wondered if he really was mad and imagining it all. His initial, violently fearful and aggressive reaction to Dumbledore when he thinks he's a doctor certainly is very telling and has a lot of implications about the treatment he's experienced during his first 11 years of life.

[nonuniverse-tarot]

What They Wish They Would've Told You, In Your Latest Encounter

*All my readings are for 18+ regardless of the nature of the reading. If you're below 18, then this reading is not for you. Thank you for understanding.*

What they wished they've told you, that last time you saw each other! And why they didn't!

J. K. L.

J.

The two oracle cards are from the Shadows and Light Oracle.

First Card: 27 Stranger Valentine - Love is strange!

Second Card: 2 Fairy of the Divine Hand - Intoxication, distorted view, overindulgence!

In your last encounter with the person on your mind could've been at night or a topic of conversation could've been about stars or the sky. Maybe it was more like the atmosphere around the two of you felt like you were stay gazing.

They were feeling so connected with you. The conversation was so nice. I keep hearing 'just so... Nice.'

You guess see eye to eye in a lot of things and they feel - their intuition tells them - that it's real. You're not agreeing with the things they say, just so they like you or to keep the peace and vise versa. This connection has a real foundation.

But they feel inferior or unavailable to you in some way. I feel like you know in what area your person feels this way. In your persons eyes, you have more experience or knowledge in something, and they think they're not on your level and won't be able to get on your level because they don't have time to level up or evolve. They see you shining so bright, not even light pollution could dim you!

While the two of you were together, they might've been quieter or more pensive that usual. There's an ongoing problem in their life, that they don't want you to know about. Being with you, in person, and then going back to what awaits them when you leave, is a huge change. Night to day. This ongoing problem of theirs, has a clear solution, but they don't take it, because they don't have proof that they'll be okay. It's their problem to solve, not yours.

This person, didn't want to say anything that was going through their mind. It doesn't feel like they truly wish they've said anything. They did want to talk about certain topics, but forgot it weren't sure if you would be okay/interested.

They have a lot of live for you, where it's romantic, platonic, or familiar, they love you so so so much! (Side note - they think you are so much for attractive than them.)

Songs: summertime - cinnamons, evening cinema | Rock Me - One Direction | Let's Fall in Love for the Night - FINNEAS

K.

The two oracle cards are from the Shadows and Light Oracle.

First Card: 2 Fairy of the Divine Hand - Intoxication, distorted view, overindulgence!

Second Card: 10 Eclipse Mermaid - A powerful energy shift!

To start, I had the taste of raisins when I was clarifying some cards. You or them could have been eating them the last time you were together, or one of you like raisins.

Your person didn't say the the following things, because they felt like it was crossing a boundary. If this is romantic, you might have a partner or they think you're taken or simply not interested in them. If this isn't the case, they don't want you to think they're showing off about how much better they are and how shitty you are. It's not that.

What they wish they've told you: they are not heartbroken anymore. They've learned from the past and have let go of their hurt. Your person, isn't suffering nor overthinking about the past. The past involving you and the past that has nothing to do with you.

They are so at peace in general. Even if you hear them complaining about an aspect of their life, they know everything works in their favor because they allow for that to happen now. Surprisingly enough, their heart and mind work together, and not against each other. Your person is very hush hush about their accomplishments and goals because they don't want to risk having you think that they think less of you. To them, the two of you are at the same level and they don't want you to feel like that isn't the case.

The four of wands doesn't leave me alone! In a good way but wow I was about to move onto the next pile but it just wants to talk! This also including them celebrating accomplishments, but it also has to do with you. I don't think you and your person are in a relationship. I'll explain later on, but they have fantasied about marrying you and how your life together would look like. Again, you could be in a relationship, or they think you aren't into them, so they rather die than ever admit this!

The two of you don't know everything about each other. Your connection with each other is strong, the two of you feel that, but barely now, or in the near future, you're getting to know one another.

Weird message but, you and them, your eyes make you see things that aren't there.

Your person sees that you might not be interest in them, but they feel the way you look at them and how at times you get nervous.

You see that your person has so many more options to choose from, but you feel how their eyes are only on you.

This goes without saying, but the person you're asking about, is most likely romantic and have a huge crush on you. This reading wasn't about that, but here ya go!

You two try not to cause any gossip about the other. I feel like you don't talk about this person to others and if you do, they are sUPER trustworthy and close to you.

Songs: favorite - Isabel LaRosa | The Vuelvo a Ver - Kany Garcia | Scrawny - Wallows

L.

The two oracle cards are from the Shadows and Light Oracle.

First Card: 14 Marie Masquerade - Glamour, intrigue, drama

Second Card: 42 Ghosts of the Past - The past returns for a time...

Straightforward person that you're asking about! A little side message - there's been a lot of gossip about you being thrown around by old/past friends of yours. You two might have friends in common and have heard the gossip first hand. Most of it, is exaggerated and comes from a place of envy, so nothing for you to worry about. You don't have any connection with the people gossiping.

Now, your person has observed how you have evolved! You might've recently cut off these 'friends' recently, or they think/see how well you've been doing since cutting them off.

This person has seen you at your worst and now they get to witness you at your best! Secure, confident, just thriving in general.

They didn't say anything because they didn't want to put you on the put/make you feel uncomfortable. People from the past could've been around you when you last encountered the person you're asking about, that is why they didn't want to put unnecessary attention on you. If that isn't the case, then they didn't want to bring up unpleasant memories.

They're really happy to see you like this and they think there's only more good things coming your way. This connection feels like an old friend, an ex, or a family member you haven't seen in a while. Whoever this person is, could've hurt you in the past, or didn't do anything to help you. It doesn't have to be the case, but I do see them just observing you from afar, just standing there. I feel this huge distance from you to them, but closeness from them to you.

Now in the present, they don't engage much in the gossip. For some of you, this person 'defends' you in their way by changing the topic or bringing someone else to gossip about. I don't feel like you're close friends with them, let alone in a relationship.

Message for some - they have a burner account that they stalk you with, or just check up on you once in a while. Some of you have them blocked, so they decided to make that account. You might be ble to spot them based on their profile pic. Something to do with light, sparkles, sun, stars, dark colors, an eye human or animal.

For MANY of you, this person misses you and wants to reconnect. While going through songs, MOST of the songs had to do with missing someone, having history with them, but i have a feeling you already know that, so I decided to pick songs that resonated with how they see you/how they think you see them. These are the songs that came up if you wanna know: Dancing with your ghost - Sasha Alex Sloan | History - One Direction | you could start a cult - Niall Horan | Everywhere - Niall Horan.

Songs: Out Of My System - Louis Tomlinson | golden retriever boy - KiNG MALA | Cheerleader - Ashnikko

I hope you liked the reading! I've received such lovely messages regarding the readings so I just want to say thank you! You have no idea hoe happy I am knowing that they resonate and help you!! More reading will be coming up soon ❤❤❤

[thursdayinspace]

ficlet: wrapped with a bow

@laurencem told me to write Mulder gift-wrapping Scully as his own birthday gift, and I really had nothing else to do tonight. So this is for you, Yeti! You ask, I ignore the state of my apartment and write fic. (I mean, does it really matter whether I clean the bathroom now or tomorrow morning?) This is just a quick little thing, but writing them being silly is so much fun. tagging @today-in-fic

“Scully?” he says, panting and boneless, “Scully? Come up here.”

She lifts her head where she’s kneeling between his legs and wipes her mouth. “Huh?”

“Come up here.” He waves at her limply, his arms heavy, heart still hammering hard in his chest. Are you ready for your first birthday present of the day? she’d asked, slipping between his legs and sucking him off until he was seeing stars. He’d thought he was ready. But good god, he’s amazed she didn’t transport him straight to the afterlife. In fact, he’s not quite sure that this isn’t the afterlife. And if it is… He squeezes his eyes closed. Holy fucking shit, what a way to go.

She stretches out next to him and he brings up a hand to her face to wipe a last drop of his come from the corner of her mouth. She looks so very pleased with herself and she has every reason. He’ll buy her a trophy. He’ll learn to cross-stitch and make her a little thing to hang up above her side of the bed: Dana Katherine Scully, Birthday Blowjob World Champion.

“So you liked your present?” She grins at him, her lips red and swollen, and he grins back at her.

“I did. I loved it.”

“Good.”

“Better than good.” He puts his arms around her as she rests her head against his shoulder. She cuddles up close to him and if they’d be doing nothing but this for the rest of the day, he would be more than okay with that. But as his heart rate returns to normal and he regains the ability to formulate thoughts beyond ‘Oh dear lord yes’ and ‘I don’t think I’ll ever be able to move again,’ he realizes what would make the morning even better. “Hey Scully?”

“Yeah?”

“I was just wondering…”

“What?”

“Is it too late for one more last-minute birthday wish?”

She frowns, propping herself up on one elbow next to him. “That depends entirely on what it is. You know I’ll let you talk me into anything against my better judgment four times out of five, but I’m not going Bigfoot-hunting with you today. The rain’s really coming down out there.”

“Oh, it’s very much an indoor activity,” he promises. “Well, not that it doesn’t work outside. I mean, we have done it outside. And that was pretty fun, actually. But it’s definitely mostly an indoor thing, and I think maybe you could even consider it a gift for both of us, if you think about it. I know you enjoy it too. I was actually planning to give it to you for your birthday in a few months, but that’s the good thing about it, really. It can be gifted over and over, and—”

“Mulder!”

“Yes?”

“You have to—” she starts, and then squeaks as he rolls her over and tackles her to the mattress.

“I’ll even wrap it myself.”

She laughs. “Mulder,” she says again and wiggles underneath him, not really trying to get free. “Mulder, stop it.”

She giggles uncontrollably as he tugs at the bedsheets with one hand and wrestles her underneath. “Sorry,” he says. “I’m usually better at gift wrapping.”

“You’re crazy,” she gasps as he rolls her into a tight blanket burrito so her arms are pinned to her sides. “You’re completely crazy.”

“You love me.”

“I guess there’s not much point in denying that anymore,” she mumbles, face half smushed into the pillow as she’s lying immobilized on her belly, wrapped up nice and tight.

He kneels next to her and tilts his head pensively as he takes in the picture. “Something is missing.”

“Yeah,” she says, trying to blow at a strand of hair that’s clinging to her cheek. “Your sanity.”

“No, that’s not it.” He brushes the offending strand of hair behind her ear, then holds up a finger. “I know. Hold on. Stay just like this and don’t move.”

“Oh, haha, very funny.” She does her best to sound annoyed, but he can see the sparkling in her eyes as he climbs off the bed.

He searches the floor, their clothes in a trail from door to bed where they hastily discarded them last night, and finally picks up his sweater. He jumps back onto the bed, landing on his knees, making her bounce a few inches on the mattress.

“You’re in so much trouble,” she says. “Once I get out of here. So much trouble.”

“It’s my birthday.” He says. “You can’t be mad at me on my birthday.”

She sighs. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

With a triumphant grin, he slides the sweater under her head and ties the sleeves neatly over her forehead. “There.”

“What on earth…?” she asks.

“Every nicely wrapped present needs a bow.”

“You’re not normal, Mulder.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, I suppose. Are you going to unwrap me now?”

He runs a hand over the blanket from her shoulder to her thigh. “Hey, no card?” he asks, doing his best to sound upset. “Where’s the card?”

“Mulder, I swear to god—”

“Okay, okay.” He leans down for a kiss and feels her smiling into it. “I guess I’m ready for my present.”

“I think your present is ready for you too.”

“Are you saying that because you want me to unwrap you or is there something else you had in mind?”

The look she gives him is the one that makes him do whatever she commands without a second thought. “At this point? There’d better be a ‘something else’ after the unwrapping.”

She’s trying so hard to look angry with him and it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. “Oh, as often as you want,” he promises. “I swear. Part-time-Bigfoot-hunter’s honor!”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she says dryly.

He unrolls her slowly and carefully, and feels actually, seriously, honest-to-god excited. He feels giddy as he finally pulls the covers off her and watches her lying here, glaring up at him. She’s so beautiful he can barely breathe. “Scully?”

“What now?”

“This is a really good birthday so far.”

“I’m sure it could be even better,” she says, and he kisses her. First her lips. Then the rest of her.

As he lowers his head between her thighs and finally gets his mouth on her, he’s already getting hard again—not surprising, he thinks. Nothing is hotter than getting her off. He lets himself drown in the smell and taste of her, and then she gives him his real present as she arches off the mattress and comes with a cry that makes him happier than any Happy Birthday anyone has ever sung to him.

“Hey,” he says, looking up at her, taking in her flushed face, the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes heavily through the aftershocks. “Thank you for my present.”

“Oh god.” She lets her head fall back with a long exhale. “You’re welcome.”

“And I really liked my birthday breakfast.”

She starts laughing and he crawls up the bed, looking at her, high on love and happiness.

“You know, I liked mine too and it’s not even my birthday,” she tells him, then sighs deeply. “There was no coffee though.”

“That’s okay,” he says. “We’ll have a second breakfast.”

“We can have breakfast as many times as you like,” she promises, and he lays down next to her and pulls her into his arms.

She’s his real gift, he knows it down to his bones. More than he deserves. But she tells him she loves him and he’s always been a believer, so he’ll believe this too. And give her as many gifts in return as she wants, whenever she wants. Anything he has to give. It’s all hers already.

[dear-aubade]

Oh my good God your writing is absolutely fabulousssss 🤤 The way you write about Joel and his baby girl is sending me into orbit!!! Genuinely I cannot wait to read more of your work 😍 Do you think that you would ever do one where Joel comforts his baby if she got jealous? There’s a few different ways this could go but the idea of him comforting his sweet girl when she’s upset over something like seeing another woman in Jackson hit on him or something makes me think terrible, nsfw thoughts 😆🩷🎀

This was so fun to write, thank you for the ask anon! Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: When you see a woman making a move on Joel and storm out in a flurry of tears, Joel realizes exactly how much he’s been neglecting his baby. He’s determined to make it up to you.

Notes: Smut, oral (f receiving), dom!joel, sub!reader, praise, nicknames (sweetheart, baby, babygirl, little girl, honey, darling, any fanfic-typical nickname Joel has for reader), jealous!reader, oblivious!joel (sorta), semi-public, implied age gap

You were fuming.

It was Tommy’s birthday and Maria had decided to invite the entire town of Jackson to the Tipsy Bison that night to celebrate. The bar was lively with the hum of chatter and small talk, the smell of whiskey and beer curling in the air, paper lanterns hung in a zig-zag pattern across the ceiling.

Normally you would have loved to go out like this. It gave you an excuse to dress up all pretty and do your makeup, maybe even get Joel to abandon his stone-faced stoic facade and go dancing with you after he’d had a couple drinks.

Except for the fact that the night had gotten off to a horrible start.

The past few weeks Joel had been busy. Very busy. Which you didn’t blame him for, of course—he was one of the town’s strongest working men and the people needed him to help with patrol. But recently a worker at the Bison had sprained his ankle and Seth had asked Joel to help cover him while he healed, which meant that now Joel was gone during the day for patrol and several nights during the week while he fixed barstools or whatever it was Seth had him working on.

The nights he actually was home, he usually went straight to bed with you after placing a kiss to your lips and gave a murmured, “Goodnight.” You couldn’t even remember the last time he’d touched you, really touched you.

And you knew that Joel was a good man, that the reason he was so exhausted all the time now was because he was doing work for the community.

It didn’t stop his girl from getting a little needy and missing him.

Tonight you had taken advantage of the outing. You’d made sure to do your makeup immaculately, with your lips glossed and eyes lined to make them look all doe-like and pretty, how Joel liked them. You’d curled your hair and pinned the top part of it back in a half-updo with a white satin bow. You’d even worn a new dress that you’d traded for a couple days before. It was baby pink, hugging your bust and waist before flaring out the smallest bit around your hips. The short hem paired with your white heels showed off your legs very nicely.

You’d thought that maybe if you put enough effort into your appearance tonight, Joel would want to touch you no matter how tired he was.

Unfortunately, so much self-grooming had caused you and Joel to be a little late, which meant rushing out the door and speed-walking over to the Bison so you two weren’t more tardy than you already were, which meant there wasn’t time for Joel to appreciate his princess in her pretty dress.

Now that you guys were here at the bar, he was hardly looking at you. His large hand was still holding yours so you wouldn’t get lost in the crowd, but he hadn’t even said anything about how you looked tonight. Did he even care? It made you want to whine and cry or stamp your little heeled foot against the floor until he paid attention to you.

But you didn’t. You wanted to be his good girl…and you didn’t want to ruin Tommy’s birthday, either, by making a scene.

Joel kept craning his neck around to look for his brother, and when he found Tommy and Maria standing at the bar, he guided you over with him with a hand on the small of your back.

“Joel!” Tommy exclaimed, expression bright as he embraced his brother—overly bright. It was clear he’d already had a few glasses.

Joel slapped Tommy on the back. “Happy Birthday.”

“Happy Birthday, Tommy,” you said softly right as Maria was thanking the both of you for coming.

“What did you get me?” Tommy asked his brother.

Joel grunted as he put his hand back on your waist. “Right to the point, aren’t you?”

“A book? A shirt? A razor? I’ve been needin’ a new one of those, mine broke just yesterday—“

“Boots,” Joel said. “Traded for ‘em last week. They’re back at the house.”

Tommy grinned. “Awe, now you’ve just ruined the surprise.”

Joel rolled his eyes. “Tommy—“

“Oh, that reminds me! There’s somethin’ I need to show you real quick.” Tommy turned to you. “Mind if I borrow him for a few?”

You frowned. “Well—“

Without waiting for a response Tommy dragged Joel away, heading for some unseen destination across the bar. You couldn’t tell where they were going from your position in the crowd. You tried not to wilt.

A moment later Maria handed you a drink. “You look nice,” she commented.

“At least someone noticed,” you grumbled, taking a sip. The alcohol burned your throat.

“Joel giving you trouble?”

You shrugged.

Maria waited for you to elaborate. When you didn’t, she pressed. “I was going to go sit with some friends over there.” She gestured to her right somewhere. “Want to join?”

You sighed, then shook your head. “I don’t think so. Thank you Maria, but I don’t want my mood to infect your guys’.”

“Well…alright. If you’re sure.” And with that, she left you to your own devices.

It had been hours. Or…maybe a half hour. Forty five minutes? You weren’t sure. Enough time for you to have made a home for yourself on one of the barstools with several now-empty liquor glasses in front of you.

And Joel still wasn’t back.

Your toes were starting to go numb in your tight shoes even just sitting there, so you huffed and got to your feet—you only swayed a little. You were determined to find Joel and make him dance with you.

You weaved in and out of the crowd as you searched. Where had Tommy taken Joel? Was it….this way? That way? You couldn’t think very clearly right now. How many glasses had you….?

You finally spotted the back of Joel’s head through the throng of partygoers. Your eyes lit up and you started to move in that direction, ready to tug on Joel’s hand and stand on your tiptoes for a kiss. Why had you even been upset again?

You squirmed between two people to move closer and—

There was a woman beside Joel. She had honey brown hair and keen, wise eyes. She was older than you—much older. Closer to Joel’s age. Her name was Sharon…Shannon…something?

You froze as she laughed at something someone said and put a hand on Joel’s arm.

Your eyes went wide and you didn’t know whether you wanted to scream or start crying. Joel suddenly turned his head and met your gaze.

Your body decided for you. Tears pooled on your lashes and you turned to duck out of the bar before you made even more of a fool of yourself.

The crisp, cool night air greeted you as you escaped the Tipsy Bison’s warmth. You sniffled and kept walking, not even really sure where you were going.

“Darlin’?” Joel’s voice reached you and you heard footsteps from behind.

You sped up.

But Joel was Joel, and so he quickly caught up to you with his long legs. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Not now, Joel.”

“Hey.” He grabbed you and turned you around, his grip gentle but firm. “Sweetheart, what happened?”

“Get offa me,” you protested, trying to push away.

“What’re you…” He paused. “Are you drunk?”

“No,” you whined. You broke out of his grip and kept walking, turning around the corner of the Bison and walking around the back of the building. “Leave me alone.”

“Baby.”

At his tone you stopped. Even though you were embarrassed and upset and didn’t want to see his face, a small part of you still wanted to be obedient.

He came around your front and lifted your chin so you were looking up at him. His stern gaze melted away and his eyes softened. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

Your bottom lip quivered. “What’s wrong?” You sniffled and took a step back. His hand fell away.

“What’s wrong is that you don’t pay attention to me anymore. You work all day and all night and it feels like you hardly have time for me now. I even got all dressed up tonight for you, wore a new dress and everything, a-and you didn’t say anything, didn’t even look—“

You blinked and more tears ran down your face. “And now I jus’ saw Sharon or Shannon or whoever that woman was flirting with you, and you didn’t do anything—”

You cut off as your face crumpled. You looked down, shivering from the cold.

“I know she’s older and…and probably smarter, and she—”

“Whoa, whoa, sweetheart.” Joel tenderly gripped your upper arms, ducking his head to try and get you to meet your gaze. “What…what are you thinkin’? You think she could ever compare to my babygirl?”

You opened your mouth to respond but he prattled on before you had the chance. “The moment she touched me I pulled away. I don’t know if you didn’t see or what, but…” He shook his head. “Baby, I only have eyes for you. You know that.”

He wiped your tears with his thumbs. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around more often. It’s just until Seth’s friend heals up that I’ll be gone. I should be out of bar duty by next week.”

“And what about tonight?” you whined.

At that, Joel smiled. “You really think I didn’t notice how pretty you looked, sweet girl? I was trying not to get a hard on in the middle of Tommy’s party.”

You almost smiled. Almost. But you were still mad about Shannon, and you still felt needy and lonely and you were pretty sure you were way more than tipsy and you still kind of felt like punching Joel in his handsome face a little bit.

He leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “So sorry that I made my baby feel alone….and needy…and neglected…” He punctuated each word with a kiss to a different part of your face—your cheek, your nose, your lips.

Now that you were alone, Joel’s eyes roved over your body shamelessly. “Look at you….” he cooed. “So beautiful.” His hands fell to your waist. “And this pretty new dress.” His eyes looked lower, down to your feet, and he grinned. “Your shoes match your bow. You said you dressed up just for me?”

You sniffed and nodded. “M’still a little mad at you.”

“I know, pretty girl.” He kissed your jaw. “Why don’t you let me make it up to you?”

That sobered you up real quick. “Wh….here?”

“Why not?” Joel pressed your back to the wall of the building. “No one’s around.”

“But someone could—”

“Shhh.” He kissed lower this time, at the skin beneath your jaw. “Here’s what’s going to happen.” He pressed a kiss lower. “I’m going to make my little girl feel good right here and now so she doesn’t have to wait another minute.” Another kiss. “After that I’m gonna carry her back to our bed….” Another. “And there I’m gonna make love to her until she gets absolutely sick of it.”

You squirmed as his beard dragged along your skin the lower and lower he kissed, lips now at your collarbone. “I-I don’t know if I’d ever get sick of it….”

He nipped at your skin and you gasped. “Then you had better have enough energy to be up all night, sweetheart.”

Joel kissed down the center of your clavicle, the middle of your breasts, down your tummy over your dress….soon he was kneeling before you, looking up to meet your gaze with those dark brown eyes of his.

“Joel—” you said, still a bit uncertain.

“Lean back against the wall, babygirl.”

You hesitated, but obeyed. Any complaints or protests you had against the situation dissolved as soon as Joel lifted one of your legs and pressed a kiss to the inside of your ankle.

His lips traveled upward. He kissed along your calf….the inside of your knee…your thigh….soon he pressed the skirt of your dress up to your waist.

He paused.

Then:

“Oh, sweetheart.” It was nearly a groan. His eyes flicked up to yours. “No panties?”

You smiled shyly. The truth was you’d forgotten almost entirely about that—it had been a quick last minute decision to forego wearing anything beneath your dress, but seeing his eyes dark with lust now….you definitely did not regret it.

“I’m a little glad I didn’t have time to look you over properly before coming here,” he murmured, lips skimming your hip bone. “If I knew you weren’t wearin’ anything under this we would have never left the house.”

You could feel his breath on your inner thigh now as he moved his head and you whimpered. “Joel.”

“Shhh, no whining honey, ‘less it’s about how good it feels.” He placed a kiss right above the patch of skin above your bud. “Just let that pretty head of yours empty—I’ll take care of you.”

Whatever you were about to say in response left your head as Joel hiked your leg over his shoulder and started to lick at your clit.

You gasped and one of your hands threaded through his salt and pepper curls to steady yourself. His tongue flicked against your swollen, needy button teasingly. Your lower belly simmered with the heat of crackling coals.

Joel’s large hand found purchase on your hip and he squeezed in response to each noise that escaped you. He was soon embracing you with his full mouth, tongue licking between your folds, at your bud, into you. It was as if he was everywhere, helping himself to your taste and enjoying every bit of it.

“Oh,” you sighed, pushing your hips into his mouth involuntarily and his head bobbed in time with his motions.

Each flick, each twist of his tongue had you nearly writhing, and you were pretty sure it was only Joel’s hand on your hip keeping you from collapsing.

“Joel, I—it’s—oh please, I can’t—” You were babbling mindlessly, head empty, unsure of what you were even really saying.

Joel just chuckled against you, the vibrations running through your core making you gasp.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he murmured as he sucked and licked at your wetness. “‘S like you were made for me—just keep rockin’ your hips—oh, good girl.”

He lapped at you as you let out a high-pitched whine. You were there, right there, with his nose nudging at your clit and his warm wet tongue pushing into you and he was shaking his head and oh—

You bit your knuckle to muffle your moan as you came, your folds drenched, your lower belly warm, your legs shaking, your clit tingling.

“That’s it, that’s it.” Joel kept murmuring praises as you came down from your high, hips squirming from oversensitivity.

He placed soft and slow kisses on your right hip before rising and gripping your waist. Your legs nearly buckled.

Joel chuckled and caught you as you stumbled a bit, sweeping you up in his arms, the ease in which he lifted you making your belly swoop.

He pressed his lips to your hairline in an achingly sweet kiss. “How’s my girl feeling now?”

You let out a happy hum and rested your head on his shoulder. “Better.”

“Good.” You could hear the smile in his voice as he started to walk, carrying you like you were a princess. You supposed that you were, in a sort of way. You were his.

“Don’t go fallin’ asleep yet, babygirl.”

You hadn’t even realized that you’d been drifting off until he had said something. It wasn’t your fault. The gentle sway of him walking with you had rocked you to sleep…

“Sorry.” You yawned.

“I’m the one who’s sorry, honey,” he said. He held you closer. “And you gotta stay awake with me. I got a lot more I wanna do to apologize to my princess.”

The low voice he used made your heart flutter.

You were in for a very long night.

[mieldreams]

A Very Cherry Christmas

Summary: A cherry incident that leads to a sweet surprise.

(pt two of A Very Berry Christmas)

pairing: single dad!Anakin x single nurse!reader

warnings: flour galore. and fluff. and a liiittle bit of angst, ft. cursed snowmen.

word count: ~4.6k

a/n: really this is just filler with some fluff and angst but I promise the next one is more fun.

Much to your disappointment, you don’t see the little family for the whole week with work keeping you busy. Seriously why did people’s urges to do dumb shit increase so much more during the holidays? Putting up lights on the roof right after it had snowed – who do you think you are? spiderman? And who the heck stores white paint in maison jars and then proceeds to put it in the pantry? Do you not smell anything before you consume it? And why would anyone ever try to open a gift with a freaking axe, did grandpa just wrap the Christmas tree as a present itself?

You did however have brief interactions with the twins – usually on days when your work shift and their school time coincided. Some days their father was with them and he’d give a single nod of acknowledgment in your direction, and other days they were with that same tan woman with the white hair. The first two days she’d looked curiously in your direction when the twins enthusiastically waved at you across the parking lot, but by the third time she’d given you a small smile in greeting as well.

But the lack of run-ins with the family didn’t keep your mind from drifting to the pretty stranger with the kids. Well, guess he wasn’t that much of a stranger now. You weren’t exactly proud to admit but the handsome man from down the hall had popped up in your thoughts more than you thought appropriate, he was a father after all. But weren’t dilfs the latest hot trend?

Well, at least that's what your best friend told you when you mentioned the events of the previous night at your next shift. She had taken one look at the half-assed bun on your head, the drooping eyebags and the too-large cup of coffee before her dull expression shifted.

"Oh. my. god. You have your cursed happy snowman sweater on."

You had given her an incredulous look, laughing as you gathered your scrubs to change into, "What are you talking about?"

You look down at the oversized white sweater with a snowman face on it. You had gotten it on sale and maybe the slightly crooked smile that made your snowman look a little psychotic had something to do with it, but you thought he was cute, so whatever. "And he is not cursed. Just a little misaligned."

She took a sip of her own coffee while pointing at your torso with a challenging brow, "Whatever you say. But you only wear it whenever something nice or lucky happens. And considering Melanie still hasn't been run over by Santa's sleigh Regina George-style," She turned her head to glare at the dark-haired woman who was scolding the new intern about how 'just because it's Christmas doesn't mean you get to bring all this clown stuff to the hospital. This is a professional setting. Do you think any patient will take you seriously with this stuff?'"

A water bottle. A green and red Christmas-themed water bottle is what she was talking about. The two of you sent another glare in her direction before your best friend continued, "I figured it must be something at home."

Her head suddenly snapped to you, eyes widening in excitement, clicking her fingers to point at you, "Wait! Did you get lucky last night?" She wiggles her brows suggestively.

You gave her a smirk in return, "Very."

"Shut up. Tell me!"

You walked into the changing stall and turned around to face her with a smile, "I actually managed to go to bed before 12 yesterday, well sort of."

"Oh, boo!"

You laughed as you closed the door and started changing into your uniform.

"I said fun as in 'young, wild and free' fun, not 'old lady with back pain' fun."

You shouted over the door, "But I am an old lady with back pain."

You heard your best friend sigh dramatically, "Aren't we all?" But her tone shifts and she's quick to ask you another question, "Wait— what do you mean sort of?"

That's when you told her about last night's events. Well, as much as you could before one of the senior nurses called you to discuss a patient. You left with the promise to tell your best friend more at the end of the shift when the two of you can go out for drinks together now that it's the weekend.

You step out of the stall, turning around to walk backwards, "Oh in return, I heard there's going to be a surprise Christmas mini-parade in the hospital. You know the whole singing, decorating and all that. They're looking for volunteers."

The two of you glanced at Melanie again who was now screaming at another young nurse before your best friend turned to give you a devious smirk, "Oh, I know someone who loves singing and decorating…"

You winked at her before turning on your heel to walk out of the locker room.

There had been an unexpected blizzard later that evening yet the bar had been crowded, nothing surprising considering the holiday season. Your best friend poked and prodded at you for more information on Anakin but every time you only shrugged and told her the same thing, "I only met him properly yesterday, that too in my pyjamas. What do you expect me to know, his parent's address?"

She rolled her eyes, "Of course not. But you said he had a pretty face, so what? Is the seat taken or…?"

You laughed as you scolded her, "He has kids. I don't think any man as gorgeous as that would still be tending to his garden alone." You raised your brows at her in a 'if you know what I mean' way before taking another sip of your drink.

The night continued with more drinks flowing in spirit of the holidays (really it was just an excuse to get drunk but you deserved to let loose after working your ass off the past week) and the two of you definitely had your fun. When the night ended, she dropped you off but not without another teasing smile from the back seat, speaking up before you could shut the door.

"Tell hi to your holiday hunk for me." She winked and you laughed, shaking your head in dismissal as you closed the door.

"It's icy on the roads, get home safe. Text me when you reach."

You spoke just loud enough that the driver would hear you, he better know that you're keeping track of your best friend's location.

She wished you a good night just as the taxi pulled away and then drunkenly waived out of the window in the back as the car took a right.

You sighed as you watched the car drive out of sight, only then did you truly realise how tired you felt, the exhaustion of your shift finally catching up to you. The weariness seeped into your bones and made every step that much heavier, slowing you down even more than the snow on the ground.

You couldn't wait to just get home and fall right into bed. Still, the thoughts of your pretty neighbour didn't leave your mind.

It’s the weekend after and somehow Anakin has ended up in the kitchen with the twins at 12 in the morning, again.

See, serving in wars had changed Anakin in ways he had never imagined. Front lines weren’t exactly a place synonymous with warmth and cheer, not unless you enjoyed the warmth of the blood on your hands and the cheer of the so-called victory his bosses had declared. So Anakin had adapted to fulfil his duties – he built an armour around himself to preserve whatever bit of humanity was left in him, a hardened shell to mimic the comfort that none of them could afford, and he also stopped celebrating. None of their conquests felt worth the blood and loss.

That all changed when the twins were born. While his marriage with Padme had started to feel like trying to reignite a wet piece of wood, the first cries of the twins in that plain clinical room had felt like his whole world was splashed with rainbow confetti. But in a matter of seconds the world flipped on its axis when the doctor walked out of the emergency room they had rushed Padme into, delivering that dreadful news and whispering his condolences. Every day after that he wondered if it was worth it, if any of it was worth it. At first the days seemed to drag on, his routine had become pretty stable after his retirement but now the stability felt suffocating, everything became monotonous, and the responsibility of his newborn babies felt like a task he might just never measure up to.

He had ended up isolating himself for days. Hardly stepping out of the house to only buy things for the twins, though most days even that ended in frustration when he couldn't figure out just which baby formula was the best, or if strollers were better than baby carriers, and can babies eat meat? Should he buy this overpriced baby teething toy or that fancy automatic rocking chair? It all felt too much and he had started questioning if he was even fit for fatherhood.

One day, after managing to get through breakfast with two unusually fussy twins, yet another frustrating trip to the grocery store and a disastrous attempt at dinner that ended with a bleeding thumb and a puréed mess of tomatoes that made his kitchen comparable to a crime scene, he had finally broken. He was barely managing to keep his calm when he accidentally opened the forbidden drawer in a hurry to find old clothes to clean the mess, and that's when he saw it. An old photograph from the early days of their marriage. Back when things were much less complicated and the two of them were still floating on the wings of their honeymoon bliss. Back when hope and love drove their relationship to such great heights, the same love that caused it all to crash and burn.

He had ended up calling Obi Wan in near tears, trying so hard to control his breathing, if only for the sake of the sleeping twins. That night he had gotten a good hour-long talk from both Obi Wan and Ahsoka, who made him promise that he wouldn't retreat into himself like that again, that he'd share his problems and let them help him. The sharing part wasn't too bad but he still struggled with the whole 'chill out Skyguy, we'll take the twins for a park adventure and you can just sit at home and relax'.

Relax. Relax. God, he's not sure he even knows how to do this 'chill out' anymore.

But he tried.

Every day he found new reasons to be – right from 'the twins have started crawling, Snips! Soon they'll be taking their first steps- they're already growing up so fast' to 'AHSOKA! OBI WAN! COME HERE QUICK THEY'RE- THEY'RE- THEY SAID THEIR FIRST WORD!' Somehow the twins had said their first words almost at the exact same time, though Leia despite being younger had beat her brother by a few minutes.

He had gotten embarrassingly tearful when they called him 'Papa' for the first time, giggling when they realised how much it shocked him, speechlessly staring at the twins in their high chairs with his mouth dropped open in disbelief. They then proceeded to ecstatically babble the word over and over again in childish glee to make him laugh till they finally exhausted themselves to sleep.

He had cried some more later that evening when he decided that no matter what happened he was going to try his damn best to give the twins everything they deserve, which in his opinion was something more than this universe even, after all they were his universe. He could never imagine a world without his babies and he would do anything for them.

Which is why when the twins attacked him with their full weight as he was watching the evening news from the couch, Luke quickly taking his place behind his dad to massage his shoulders with suspicious generosity and Leia immediately listing all the things they did that day,

“Papa, Luke and I had winter sports practice today.”

“Yes, princess I remember. How’d it go?”

“It went really good. I won first in the race and Luke won in karate practice today! I only got second because this other guy cheated. And we got two stars for our maths homework!"

"That's really good princess, I'm proud of you both."

"And Papa we cleaned our room today, I even sorted all my puzzles into the correct boxes, even the big solar system one," Luke was the one to speak up this time.

"—'Soka helped us vacuum, but we did everything else on our own."

Luke walks around the couch to stand beside his sister, nodding enthusiastically in agreement, "and Miss Lawrence said I was being very good today—"

"and Miss Tran told me I have improved my handwriting—"

"—Okay, what do you guys want?"

The twins blink up at him owlishly. He narrows his eyes when they don't say anything for a minute, only looking at each other from the corner of their eyes as if having a secret conversation in their minds.

Hmm, if this whole twin telepathy thing he heard about was true, he's not sure he's ever going to win any argument against the kids.

And he doesn't. As soon as the twins request, more like politely order him to bake yet another sweet treat for the weekend, fluttering their doe eyes and pouting their sweet pleas, he's hardly able to hold his argument for a few minutes. He tries reminding them of last weekend's berry incident and even resorts to using the good ol' parental excuse of old age exhausting him. Still, their constant pleading and Leia's final resolution of 'if Papa doesn't help us, we're going to make it ourselves' has him finally giving in.

So now here they are, on another Friday evening, well a really early Saturday morning to be accurate, with their matching baking aprons on and some Christmas tunes playing in the background.

Leia's hunched over the countertop, standing on a chair with her small hands stroking an imaginary beard in contemplation, the way she had seen Uncle Obi do, trying to make sense of the cherry-something recipe her dad found on a stray page from his mother's old cookbook. Luke's swearing on his favourite light-up space-themed sneakers that he won't overeat the cherries this time, and Anakin's trying not to lose his mind pitting a whole two pounds of cherries that make his hands look like he just walked off the set of Saw.

"Hmmm, Papa, after a whole lot of deliberation," Anakin pauses his task to raise a brow at his daughter's wording but Leia continues without hesitation, "I think Gramma was being silly and messing with us."

Anakin knows that his daughter is smarter than most and could probably even best him in an argument but he also knows that her mother's prudence holds strong in her, so he understands that what she actually means is "I think your mother may have been a little cuckoo in the brains and was taking the piss out of you."

He laughs as he takes in the very serious look on his daughter's face, "While I would normally believe you kiddo, I can assure you that this recipe is very much real because your very not-silly-dad has tasted it when your not-silly-grandma made it for me as a kid."

Leia only gives him an unconvinced look before climbing down from the chair to walk over to her brother who was standing over the dining table on another chair. She climbs one beside his to look over the table as well.

She sees that Luke has the entire table covered in stray sheets that have unintelligible writing scrawled all over them. The pages are all frail and yellow and she wonders if her papa was wrong and maybe the book belonged to her great-grandmother instead. The pages also have an odd sort of smell and various stains and discoloured spots all over them that make her wrinkle her nose. Well, this book surely must've been…well-loved she thinks.

"Luke, did you find the missing half of the recipe?"

Her brother frowns, "No…I can't even read any of the stuff written on these pages. And that's impossible because we just learned to read last week!"

Leia sighs with a shake of her head, taking in her brother who's again shuffling the sheets in a desperate attempt to find any page similar to the cherry thing recipe their father claims is real, and then glances back at her father who is now practically strangling the cherries into a bloody pulp when she's sure she read the recipe say mix.

She takes in the mess they have made of their apartment – the random specks of flour scattered on the carpet, the stray groceries spilling out of the bag they abandoned after finding the ingredients, the more loose sheets lying on the floor, and the scattered Christmas decorations that were yet to be put up.

She sighs once again before climbing down from the chair and walking back over to the kitchen. She grabs her tablet from the counter and quickly makes a search before walking over to her father. She says nothing as she simply places the device screen side up right next to the bowl he's got his hands in. Anakin stops his cherry slaughtering to glance down at the screen before looking up at his daughter.

"And what is this?"

"Our new plan."

He raises a brow at that, "and why do we need a new plan?"

"Because our house looks like a crime scene and I don't want to go with CPS?"

"Why do you know what a crime scene is? Or even CPS??"

She rolls her eyes, "I'm five, not stupid."

He glances back at the recipe on his screen, "But this says it only a takes a few minutes to make…"

"Exactly."

He pouts at his daughter, "but I thought our baking sessions were father-babies bonding time..don't you wanna spend time with your old man?"

Luke chimes in from his place on the chair, "You're not old, Papa" he giggles, "Uncle Obi is old."

"Wow hold on, hey champ? I want you to remember that and repeat it for me when I get my phone out, okay?"

He removes his hands from the bowl, scrunching his brows and looking at the ceiling in thought, "Hmmm, you know what, I can't remember the last time I hugged you guys…"

Anakin once again exaggerates his pout as he looks back at the twins, "I miss my darlings so much, I just want to hold you in my arms, don't you wanna give daddy a hug?"

Both the twins immediately shake their heads, wide eyes trying to anticipate his moves.

He takes a step forward and Leia takes a step backwards, Luke's tiny hands tighten on the back of the chair.

"Aww c'mon, I think we should have a big ol' group hug like we always do." He opens his arms and wiggles his cherry-stained sticky fingers at them.

The twins once again frantically shake their heads, but there's smiles threatening to grow on their faces.

"No? Hmm I think you guys will change your mind if we give it a try. C'mere—"

And with that he springs forward, the squeals of the twins echo in the apartment as they scramble to get away from his squirming red fingers like they were some goosebumps monster.

"No, papa!" Leia screams as she runs away from him but her toothy grin and giggles give her away. Luke's laughing as their dad scoops his twin into his sticky arms, her tiny hands fisting his shirt as he tickles her belly before placing her on his shoulders like a rucksack, her endless giggles colouring the air.

His laughter quickly dies down when Anakin turns around to set his eyes on Luke next, a smirk taking over his face as he takes slow deliberate steps in his son's direction and Luke shrieks before breaking out into a full sprint with their father hot on his heels.

It doesn't take more than a few steps for Anakin to catch up with Luke's small feet, picking him up with his other arm to tickle him with the sticky fingers.

Leia's still hanging upside down over his shoulder while Luke's giggling as Anakin blows raspberries against his cheek, trying to get away from the attack but he knows his Papa's arm is strong so there's no escape.

But then Leia spots a weapon of her own. As her dad's too busy terrorizing her twin, she uses his distraction to wiggle out of his hold and land on the counter behind him. She bends down to scoop a handful of the powder spilt on the kitchen counter.

Anakin's laughing at his son who's trying to get rid of the cherry slobber all over him when he feels the 'splat' of something hit his back. He immediately freezes.

There's white powder floating in the air and he can feel the stuff in his hair as he hears a small gasp behind him.

He slowly turns around to face his daughter. She's trying to look innocent, hands behind her back to hide the evidence and eyes avoiding his to look up at the ceiling.

He doesn't say anything as he gently places Luke down. The whole apartment is suddenly quiet and he can tell that the twins are holding their breath.

"Oh, it's on."

And just like that the battle starts. There's flour flying everywhere, bright peals of laughter echoing throughout the room, and paper balls and throw pillows joining the arsenal to make it a full-fledged war.

This continues for a good hour and only ends when Anakin comically steps on a pillow covered in flour and goes zooming across the floor to crash into a wall.

They soon end up cleaning everything up before Anakin sends the twins to shower to get rid of the flour and cherry syrup all over them. In the meanwhile Anakin finishes up the cherry cobbler and throws it in the oven.

When the twins finish showering he asks them to keep an eye on the dish while he takes a shower.

"Promise me you won't try to take it out to taste it when it's still hot," the 'like last time' is left out because they all know what he's referring to, specifically with the pointed look in Luke's direction.

Luke simply avoids his dad's eyes while Leia nods dutifully.

When he's done changing into fresh clothes he walks back into the living room where the twins are watching that cursed snowman movie again. He doesn't understand what they love so much about it, if there was a way to shift to a reality where that abomination doesn't exist, he'd gladly do it.

Leia sees him walking into the kitchen to open the oven and jumps off the couch to follow him with Luke trailing right behind.

He removes the pan from the oven and sets it on the counter, "Hey, do you think we should share some of this with Y/n since she helped us last time?"

Leia is the one who answers, "Yeah, she's nice." She's pointedly looking at Anakin but he isn't sure what she means so he just stares back at her until their stare-off is finally broken by Luke chiming in, "Mhm, her sweater was also very soft."

"Oh right," Anakin had entirely forgotten about it, "we should give that back too."

"But what if she doesn't like cherry cobbler?" Luke speaks up again.

"What if she doesn't like cherries?" Leia joins in.

Well shit he hadn't thought of that either.

He scratches his head.

Hmmm, what if you didn't like cherries? but how could they confirm it? It's not like he could just randomly show up at your door right now at 1 in the morning (again) to ask you if you like cherries or not. Or could he…?

No. No, he definitely can't. There's no way he's going to wake you up and inconvenience you again so late at night. But how could they find out then….?

Anakin quickly shakes his head, "Look we made it for ourselves anyway, we can just give her some of it and if she doesn't like it she can just….give it to someone else or something," you seemed too nice to throw it out but the thought of you giving the food he made to someone else didn't sit right with him for some reason.

"Does that mean we get to see Y/N again?" Luke's excited eyes peep over the opposite edge of the counter.

"Nope. At least not today buddy, not right now."

His words are immediately followed by whining from the twins.

"Aww, why not, I wanna give her the sweater back myself—"

"That's not fair, we helped make it too, Papa just wants to talk to her alone—"

"I do not!"

He sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose before straightening up, "Okay, how about this, it's really late right now and we don't want to disturb her again, right? So what if the two of you write her thank you notes that we can stick on the box that we'll give her?"

"Okay!" Both the twins scramble to gather their markers and paper, racing each other to the bedroom for dibs on the glitter pens.

After the twins are done with their notes, Anakin takes them with the promise to give them to you along with the cherry cobbler.

What they don't know is that Anakin's snuck in a little note of his own. Nothing too long, just a simple

'Thank you for last weekend.

Have a Cherry Christmas.'

And it's the first thing you see when you open your door the next morning, you can't help the smile that takes over your face when you read it, standing in your doorway still in the ugly snowman sweater you fell asleep in.

You look down at the tupperware before opening its lid to the most tasty-looking dessert, taking a delicious whiff before closing the lid again.

You hold the 2 cards that came with it in between your lips as you pick up the tupperware with both arms, opening your door and hip checking it to close behind you.

The weekend couldn't have started better really, you can't wait to read the notes and dig into this delicious treat.

You drop off the box on the kitchen counter to open the Christmas themed note cards, greeted by multiple drawings of snowmen and candy canes and even an ambiguous red circle, something you assume is a cherry? a red ball? tomato?? No, it has to be cherry right? But then why did one of them have these mistletoe-like leaves? and who're the two people holding hands underneath it?

You assume it's the twins but the artistic choices are a little...creative so it's hard to make out.

You pull out a spoon and open the lid to scoop up some of the cobbler as you take turns to read each of the notes scribbled in adorable kindergartener handwriting.

The dish is absolutely scrumptious, melting in your mouth with it's sweet tartiness, but what melts your heart is the sweet messages written on the inside of the cards with glitter hearts around them.

You decide this is definitely going on the fridge.

a/n: this was supposed to come out almost a month ago but here we are. it seems I can just never be on schedule...one might as well compare me to local public transit systems -_- so apologies, but I hope you enjoyed nonetheless!

if u did pls like and comment! a little interaction goes a long way ;)

[vroombeams]

Heloooo Kee! Can we put Galex in a situation, 7 and 13? (Trapped in a room/closet/elevator and Drugged/drunken/sleepy confession)

from this prompt list

"I think I'm in love with you," George slurs.

Alex pauses. He's got one finger hovering over the button for the sixteenth floor.

"I know," Alex tells him. "You said that last time this happened."

George gives him a look that's not all that far off from a kicked puppy.

"But I do," he says, all wobbly voice and wide eyes.

Alex goes back to pressing the elevator buttons, which aren't beeping or lighting up at all. Every time they've stayed at this hotel, this has happened. Every time they come to Spain, they book this same hotel, and every time they expect it to be different.

And this time Alex'd been the one in charge of booking. So he can't even blame George for it.

"I know," Alex says, impatient. They've only been here about five minutes. It usually doesn't take all that long to get going again, but it could be a whole hour stuck in here with George's maudlin ass.

"Alex," George says, piteously.

Alex sighs roughly and abandons the button panel to sit on the floor next to George. He looks a bit silly in his nice chinos and loafers and—cashmere, probably?—sweater, huddled up in the corner of a dim, dirty elevator, still looking at Alex like a kid who's had all of his candy stolen.

Alex plucks his hand out of his lap and winds their fingers together firmly.

"You're very drunk, Georgie," he starts.

"Yes, but—"

"—and you do this every time."

"Well, I—"

"—and we are literally here on vacation together," Alex interrupts. "There's one bed. We've got that big two person jacuzzi. I fed you dessert off my spoon at dinner."

George is quiet for a moment.

"We've been dating for months," Alex says. Because George Russell, after one too many drinks, becomes a fucking amnesiac.

"Oh," George says, suddenly beaming. "Oh. Well, that's nice."

Alex pats his hand consolingly. George is looking down at their twined fingers like he's just won the WDC.

"So," George says, leaning unsteadily closer. "So, do you—you like me?"

"Jesus Christ," Alex says.

The puppy eyes make a reappearance.

"Yes, George, I like you."

He looks a bit like he might cry out of sheer joy. Alex pats his hand again, and George wriggles closer. If the hotel staff doesn't get them out in the next three minutes, he's absolutely going to pass out on Alex's shoulder, and then Alex is going to have to half-drag him to their hotel room.

"I like you too," George says sleepily.

Alex would roll his eyes if there were anyone there to see it.

[kit-screams-into-the-future]

another post for @bttfjanaury! this one's @itsthemorph's mermarty au and very predictably i got carried away with it LMAO.

yap session and bonus stuff below the cut:

once again i came up with an entire backstory for this au, and if i were a fanfiction writer i would genuinely consider writing it since it's a lot less visually comedic than the weredoc au (and comedic in general, it's played a little straighter than "man turns into dog and is thoroughly inconvenienced by it") (unfortunate [in reference to visuals] bc i enjoy drawing mermarty a great deal more than weredoc GBJKGJ) bc i really like the premise but i'm pretty bad at fleshing out a narrative in enough detail to last the whole story so bullet points it is:

doc has decided to take a break from his time-travel-related research and go on vacation! the fresh coastal air might jostle a couple ideas into place, and while he is a nuclear physicist and not a marine biologist he wouldn't mind checking out some of the local aquatic life

and by local aquatic life he meant like normal fish and stuff. a nice mollusk or two even. so when he ends up fishing an entire boy out of the water instead he's understandably very shocked

before doc can move past the "where did he come from??" thought to register his more fish-like qualities, the boy makes a run (a swim?) for it. fortunately or unfortunately for doc, he ends up being able to register the fish-like qualities after all since he gets dragged into the water along with him. the moment doesn't last too long, though, and the fish-boy is gone as soon as doc realizes the guy has a fish tail instead of legs

doc gets back on the dock (haha), thinks about the whole ordeal for a bit, and decides that the best course of action is just to assume he hallucinated the whole thing in a fit of heatstroke or something like that. he's here to relax and get his thoughts in order so he can continue working on his time machine! there's no time to investigate fairy-tale creatures or whatever supposedly living off the coast of california!

it's not shown in the comic but i imagine doc has a little portable radio next to him as he was fishing, so some time passes before he catches a glimpse of something shining in the water underneath the dock

he looks through the cracks in the dock and lo and behold, it's the same boy from earlier! doc greets him, and the boy immediately disappears under the water. doc thinks he's scared him off until a few minutes later where he pokes his head out and says hi back

they get to chatting and doc learns a couple things:

1. his name is marty!

2. he was trying to get doc to realize that he forgot to put bait on his hook but got his hand caught on it, and was trying to get his hand unstuck from the hook without ripping it open before doc ever had the chance to see him, which he obviously failed at

3. both the being seen and ripping his hand open, because in his haste to get away after being seen by doc he ended up doing that anyways. so there's like a lot of blood coming out of his hand now? but like don't worry about it. it'll be fine. he thinks.

4. he really likes whatever it is that's playing on the radio

doc insists on patching up his hand and initially marty refuses but lets him do it eventually, and marty tells doc that for a land dweller he's actually surprisingly nice. doc says nah anyone would want to help out someone hurt, especially if they're the one's who caused it. and marty's kind of confused by that because his family's always warned him of how dangerous humans are, which he kind of never thought too hard about until now where his time off this particular coast has really proven them correct, because he's encountered a bunch of humans over the past couple weeks and they've all tried to kill him or catch him. doc's the only one who's actually bothered to say hi!

after learning that particular not-at-all-concerning tidbit, doc asks him to elaborate because there's a lot to unpack over there, but someone else walks onto the dock before marty can get a word in and he takes off

marty does not return, even once the other guy leaves, and when doc packs it up to return to the place he rented out for the vacation he overhears a conversation among a group of men about spotting something weird in the water earlier and that it kind of looked like a mermaid? and that if any of them manage to catch it they'll all be rich as thieves. and another guy in the convo goes no you're thinking of rich as kings, you're mixing it up with a different analogy. and the first guy goes no i'm not i said what i said

so now this vacation is doing anything but clearing doc's mind. he's really worried about that little fish guy

there's a couple more ideas i had but halfway through writing out this bullet list i've realized that if i were to actually write this as a fanfiction, i'd probably want to keep those a surprise. so what i just wrote out is kind of the equivalent of one chapter

edit after thinking about it a bit more: since most humans have been trying to kill him, marty really has no incentive to let a guy know that he's wasting his time fishing with a baitless hook. so a. he's still pretty optimistic that most humans aren't out to get him, even if his experience off this particular coast says otherwise, so he was trying to be nice anyway or b. (which i think is a lot funnier) he has started to pull on people's lines as a way to fuck with them. i think if i wrote this i'd change it to this one

i based mermarty off of a guppy fish! specifically this kind of guppy fish:

i was searching up kinds of fish and he just had the vibe of this thing. although now i think i should've made him a flying fish instead. for the pun

alternate ending to the mini comic:

the other one makes a little more sense since just approaching a guy whose species doesn't know about your existence unprompted is pretty stupid even for marty (and also i thought it was funny that the hook didn't have anything but doc ends up catching something anyways) but i still think this one's funny too

[vidavalor]

That night in 1941... is the night that Crowley (temporarily) died?

What is the dramatic thing that happens to Crowley on that night in 1941 that causes Aziraphale to still feel guilt and regret over it into the present?

Could it be that one of the reasons why 1941 is so significant to them is because it was as Furfur foreshadowed in Part 2-- their last night on Earth-- because it was, for a time, the last night of Crowley's life?

So, I think we all agree that something very, very major has to happen in the inevitable 1941, Part 3. I don't just mean only the inevitable canoodling. There's something more that these flashbacks are building towards because this is the big flashback that we're watching across all the seasons. It parallels and underlines the story in the present. Crowley and Aziraphale have had over 6,000 years on Earth but it's this night in 1941 that runs through the story so there has to be a big reason for that.

While there's plenty of suggestion that these two are going to bed in Part 3, there's another scene in the present of S2 that indicates that that's not at all what The Big Thing about this night actually is.

It might be a pretty big thing to some of the audience but it's not going to be any sort of romantic first for Crowley and Aziraphale and it's not the only thing that 1941 is building towards. What makes me think this?

The context of the scene in S2 wherein one of them-- Aziraphale-- actually directly mentions 1941 and Aziraphale's tone when he does.

While we have watched two very, very romantic parts of this night of 1941 so far-- and while we know it was that to them, too-- look at how Aziraphale refers to it in the present of S2...

There's a regret to this, a sense that he was the one in the wrong about something in 1941, even if Crowley might not agree with that.

I think that it's suggestive of Part 3 involving something related to Crowley about which Aziraphale is still regretful into the present of S2-- something he feels he was wrong about. This would be something we still haven't seen yet because, so far, Crowley and Aziraphale are winning at 1941. We've just watched two parts of them helping one another and emerging victorious from trouble, right?

We last left them in Part 2 flirting and drinking Chateauneuf-de-Pape... yet, also, we also still have the Zombie Nazis, an embarrassed Furfur, and a Chekhov's gun Derringer still in play ahead of Part 3. It doesn't bode well, then, when Aziraphale mentions the 1941 night aloud in the present of S2 with the tone that he used when he did. So, what might have happened that night in 1941, based on what other times Aziraphale mentioned during that same scene?

While we don't know what happened in 1650 right now and, depending upon what's in The Finale, it might always be speculative, we do know what happened in 1793. We know why Aziraphale would feel the need to apologize and see himself as having made a mistake. It's evident that Aziraphale regrets miscalculating the scenario in The Bastille in such a way that he wound up unintentionally triggering Crowley with Jean-Claude the Executioner.

While he and Crowley were ultimately alright and had a nice, crepes-laden time in Paris to a point that "Paris, 1793" was memorable enough to be shorthand in the 2008 story in the first episode, it's also an example in Aziraphale's mind where he feels he made a mistake in his care of Crowley and so was the one apologizing-- doing a metaphorical apology dance.

So, this might be telling us that something happened to Crowley in 1941... something pretty bad, as Aziraphale's tone when he mentions it indicates that he considers it worse than 1793. Given what we've seen so far, this something bad is part of what's coming in 1941, Part 3 in The Finale. Something big enough that it's really to where our watching of this night during both scenes has been leading.

There are a few, other scenes that I think might be providing us with some Clues as to what that thing is.

One Clue is Furfur saying: "Enjoy your last night on Earth."

At present, we think that Crowley and Aziraphale have evaded this threat because Aziraphale got the evidence photo away from Furfur... but there's still a Part 3.

This would be a big twist because we're not expecting this right now. We last left them drinking wine in the bookshop. Most of our theories (including a couple of my own) have been centered around more romantic aspects of Part 3-- and those could all still well hold up. But while it might be the first time we are shown that more directly, it's not the first time any of it's happened. Anything romantic in a new way wouldn't really explain Aziraphale's regret over this night in the present of S2.

What if the reason why, of all the very romantic nights that Crowley and Aziraphale have had over the years, we're watching this one in 1941 is because this was, for a time, until Aziraphale brought him back, their last night on Earth together because it was the last day of Crowley's life?

Still shuffling out there are The Nazi Zombie Flesheaters and we've got two different guns-- The Bullet Catch and Aziraphale's Chekhov's gun of a Derringer-- in play in the bookshop. Greta can get into the bookshop because Aziraphale let her in when she recruited him. If some kind of conflict happens and a gun goes off, what if Crowley got shot and, worse, died for a little while?

Aziraphale will blame himself for that forever, no matter how much Crowley will tell him not to. To Aziraphale, Crowley will have only been there with him that night and in danger because he showed up in the church to rescue Aziraphale from the Nazis. It would explain how Aziraphale feels about 1941 in the present.

There's also the dramatic irony of them doing The Bullet Catch successfully... only for Crowley to then get shot later that night...

...as well as the way the photograph Furfur took of the two of them on stage would change if it was this one picture of the two of them living life together that ended up being taken just hours before Crowley died.

We also had the stakes raised for us in Part 2 by Furfur explaining that Aziraphale being shot could have real, deadly consequences. It's something that we think right now that we just needed to know to understand the stakes of them doing The Bullet Catch in Part 2 but it might also have been set up to make us understand the severity of the situation if Crowley were to get shot, say, right near the heart, in Part 3.

And speaking of getting shot near the heart... the show has a bunch of other scenes that seem like they might look different in retrospect if we see a 1941, Part 3 wherein Crowley was temporarily killed during a probable confrontation with some, ah... *checks thematic notes* well, with some other dead people who also came back to life on this night in 1941...

There's the foreshadowing of Crowley getting shot in the chest with the paint in Tadfield and the way he instinctively clutches his heart...

...there's Crowley getting shot in the chest in the bookshop with the fire hose's water...

...there's maybe even a tie to it in Aziraphale petting Crowley's chest over his heart in The Dirty Donkey.

So, let's say Crowley does get shot somehow during all of this. Maybe there's a miracle block that Furfur put on the bookshop so the zombies could get inside or something so Aziraphale can't just fix it with a miracle. We could then get this whole, angsty and perfect scene of Aziraphale trying to save Crowley the human way because they're stuck there with no miracles and Crowley's too wounded to move. Crowley dies, Aziraphale's a mess, and somehow eventually brings him back... maybe like how Aziraphale's parallel, Beez, brought back Shax on Crowley's couch in 2.06? Not sure if that's connected but it has the feeling like it might be.

Finally, there's the sex-and-death of it all, which is something I looked at in this meta. If there is ever a time in Good Omens where one of them is going to die, it's so going to be the same night as when we first go into Aziraphale's bedroom, and the end of 1941, Part 2 has dialogue that pretty heavily suggests they're going to be upstairs, ah, retiring the act in Part 3. Having some metaphorical "little death" and then getting some literal death would be the most Good Omens thing to ever Good Omens. 😂

Why do I get the feeling that the above might not be the first time that Aziraphale's said that in the bookshop about a feared dead Crowley?

[livesincerely]

there’s no escape (i can’t wait) - ch. 1

Rated E, A/B/O. The next entry in my burning up variations series (see tag below).

Also on ao3

00000

Later, Eddie will think that he knew, somehow, before he actually knew.

He’s finishing up in the locker room, about to head into a 24-hour shift, when a rush of… something sweeps over him. There’s a prickle of anticipation at the nape of his neck, goosebumps sprouting all over his arms, and he glances up, nose twitching, right as Buck comes shuffling in.

“Hey,” Buck greets him in a low, gravelly voice, tossing his duffle down onto the bench. 

On any other day, Eddie would worry that he’d had a bad night. Today, he knows the exact reason for that rough rasp, and it sends a thrill of heat sparking up his spine.

“H-hey,” Eddie manages, blinking rapidly. “Uh, aren’t you supposed to be on leave?”

”Bobby called,” Buck explains, tugging off his t-shirt and rubbing sleepily at his eyes.

There’s a soft, gorgeous flush to his skin—his cheeks, neck, and chest painted a perfect, rosy shade of pink—and as he starts to shrug into his uniform there’s the faintest whiff of something delicious.

Something mouthwatering.

Eddie’s heart stutters traitorously against his ribs, and he forces himself to look away before Buck catches him staring. 

“Whittler’s partner went into labor last night,” Buck continues, oblivious to his plight. “This morning? Whichever, and Ginsburg’s still in Cabo until Tuesday.”

“That sucks,” Eddie says, in what he hopes is a nice, even, totally normal tone. “You gonna be okay?” 

“Yeah, I’ll be okay,” Buck assures him. “I was gonna use today to prep and get ahead on laundry, but one last shift won’t kill me. My ruts tend to be pretty tame for the most part, but I’ve got extra blockers and scent neutralizing spray in my bag just in case.��

Tame? There’s not a damn thing tame about Eddie’s sudden need to plaster himself against Buck’s front and swirl his tongue around the hollow of his throat, but maybe that’s just him.

Mine, his instincts purr. All mine, and that’s Eddie’s cue to make a strategic retreat.

He jolts to his feet. “Well, let me know if you need anything.”

“Actually,” Buck calls out before he can make it more than a couple steps, sounding a touch sheepish. “Would you mind…?”

And he ducks his chin and tips his head to the side, exposing the long line of his throat.

Eddie’s mouth goes dry. 

“You want me to scent mark you?” he asks, voice tight. 

It probably shouldn’t come as such a surprise. Buck’s about as tactile as they come, and the two of them spend so much time together that they constantly smell at least a little of each other—a fact that definitely doesn’t make Eddie want to preen like a possessive peacock, thank you very much.

But a proper, deliberate scenting, right on the cusp of Buck’s rut? 

That feels different. 

Feels special. 

Mine, his hindbrain insists once again.

Naturally, Buck chooses this exact second to finally notice Eddie’s reaction to his… everything. 

“Um, yeah?” he says, brow furrowed and nostrils flaring as he takes him in. “Why, what’s…”

He takes in a deep inhale, then his expression clears all at once.

”Oh. Oh, you… Wait, really?”

Eddie’s cheeks heat. “Shut up.”

“I… Did I know this already?” Buck marvels, a smug sort of delight starting to curl over his lips. But just beneath it there’s a softer, more earnest sort of elation—like he’s just been offered a dream come true on a silver platter. “Because this feels like the sort of thing I should’ve been made aware of. Edmundo Diaz, have you been holding out on me?”

“Shut up,” Eddie huffs again, but there’s no real feeling behind it. He’s too busy fighting a smile, hope lighting him up inside like the best kind of vertigo. “It’s not like I can really keep anything from you when you keep sniffing me out like a fucking bloodhound. If it’s taken you this long to notice, that’s on you.”

“Actually, did you know that an alpha’s olfactory senses can become up to eighty percent stronger in the three days leading up to their rut?” Buck tells him cheerfully. “To help them stay in tune with the needs of their pack, and especially their mate, throughout their cycle.”

Of course, this fun fact does nothing to disguise the fact that he’s closing in on Eddie like a predator stalking its prey, swaggering towards him with his shoulders rolled back and his thumbs tucked into his belt, the cocky, beautiful bastard.

Eddie holds his ground, lets Buck approach until they’re standing toe to toe, chest to chest.

“Is that so? And what are you picking up from my scent, then, alpha?” he murmurs, meeting the challenge with one of his own. He can almost see the way the word lands, the way Buck’s spine straightens like he’s got something to prove. “Any interesting insights?”

Buck gives him a long, considering once-over.

“That’s definitely not something I can get into without causing a workplace incident,” he eventually admits, gazing at him from under his lashes.

Oh, fuck.

“Keep looking at me like that and I’m going to cause a workplace incident,” Eddie warns him, swaying closer despite himself.

“To be perfectly honest, Eds, that’s really not much of a deterrent.”

“This is going to be a long fucking shift if you don’t reel it in,” Eddie says wryly, fond exasperation and bone-deep desire inextricably twined. “A long, frustrating shift.”

“Or, a very, very short one,” Buck counters, because he’s never found a line he’s not willing to toe. “God, you smell good.”

Eddie flicks him on the nose. 

“Stop it, he orders.

They’re standing close enough together that Eddie can see the way Buck’s pupils dilate, his gaze turning half-lidded and hungry.

“I’ll behave,” he promises, but it sounds more like a threat. Eddie valiantly resists a shiver

The moment lingers—a static charge that only needs a touch of friction to burst into flame—then slowly dissipates; no, is carefully set aside to be explored later. 

Eddie reaches up to squeeze Buck’s shoulder, then lets his hand trail higher to cup around the back of his neck.

“You still gunning for that scent mark? Or is it going to make things worse?” 

Strong, warm hands land on either side of his waist, fingers splayed wide enough to cover the small of his back.

”I want it,” Buck insists, which isn’t exactly an answer, but Eddie doesn’t have it in him to deny him.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, reeling him in.

Buck melts into the touch like he’d just been waiting for permission, nuzzling in to rub his face against Eddie’s throat. He lets out a quiet, contented noise, wrapping himself around him like he’s planning to make a home in the curve of his neck, his chest rumbling all the while.

Eddie chuffs back instinctively, threading his fingers through the curls at the nape of Buck’s neck. He pulls him closer, craning up on his toes and tucking his nose into the space behind Buck’s ear before he can stop himself. 

He just smells so good: all toasty and golden and a little sweet, like freshly baked sunshine drizzled in honey, with just a slight undertone of sharp-ember-smoke to indicate his approaching rut.

Eddie wants to wallow in that scent, wants to lick the taste of it right out of Buck’s mouth, wants to just bare his teeth and bite, sink his teeth in so deep that no one would dare to doubt his claim—

The bell ringing overhead stops him before he can do anything that might cost him his job, and he’s honestly not sure if he’s relieved or disappointed. There’s still another twenty or so minutes before their shift so this call isn’t their problem, thank god, because Eddie’s brain is too busy chanting Buck, Buck, yes, mine, Buck, alpha, mine, to be responsible for anyone’s health and wellbeing.

They slowly peel apart, both a little dazed.

“How’s that?” Eddie asks, brushing a piece of hair out of his face to give himself something to do with his hands that’s not sticking them down Buck’s pants. “Better?”

”Better,” Buck says. “Thanks, Eds.”

”Don’t mention it,” Eddie says, not really thinking about it, and Buck immediately frowns.

”But, we will, right? Talk about it, I mean,” he asks quietly, taking Eddie’s hand gently in his own and lacing their fingers together. “I know we can’t really get into it right now, but I don’t want this to be one of those things we just… brush past and not talk about. Because I want us. I want you. And I’m tired of pretending like I don’t.”

Eddie hadn’t realized he was still holding onto some worry until the last of it finally bleeds away. Of course they’re on the same page about this, about them, about the twinkling, wondrous inevitability of Buck-and-Eddie. Of course they’re in this together.

Aren’t they always, when it comes to the important things?

”Let’s get through this shift,” Eddie says. “After that, I’m all yours.”

It comes out more honest than he means it to, a wealth of emotion embedded within his words. With anyone else, he’d think it was too much. But he’s not sure there’s any such thing when it comes to Buck.

”I’ll hold you to that,” Buck replies, and he lifts their joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss first to Eddie’s knuckles, and then to the fluttering pulse point on the inside of his wrist, never once dropping his gaze from his own. “And, uh, fair warning? Once I’ve got you, I’m not planning on letting you go.”

Eddie flushes from head to toe.

“You— I told you to stop looking at me like that,” he hisses as he snatches his hand back, distinctly hot under the collar. 

Buck just laughs: low and raspy. “I make no promises.”

”Por dios,” Eddie mutters under his breath, begging anyone listening for strength.

He’s already in completely over his head and there’s nowhere he’d rather be.

”Later,” he reminds them both.

”Later,” Buck agrees.

On the way to their first call, Buck ends up in the middle seat, sandwiched between Eddie on one side and Hen on the other, and is visibly delighted to be there.

Eddie watches fondly as he adds to his collection of scent marks, wheedling a hair ruffle out of Hen and a pat on the back from Chimney. He even gets a friendly nudge from Ravi, who then rolls his eyes and makes a face when Buck uses the opening to lock their ankles together like a pair of middle schoolers kicking each other under the table in the cafeteria, grinning from ear to ear.

Though, Eddie can’t help but notice that, while full of affection, the touches stay light—fleeting, even. Besides that side hug from Bobby before they loaded out, not a single one lingers longer than a second or two, and none of them come anywhere close to the length of Eddie’s.

Good, that little voice purrs smugly. Mine.

They arrive on scene—a grassy, fenced-in playground teeming with children and families—and are immediately met by a frantic young woman.

“Oh, thank god,” she says, a huge diaper bag thrown over one shoulder and her arms filled with screaming toddler. “I swear, I looked away for, like, two seconds, Jaime was crying and I couldn’t figure out where their mom packed the juice boxes and when I looked back, she was halfway up—“

“What’s her name?” Bobby interrupts.

“Harper,” she says. “She’s right over here—“

And sure enough, there in the far corner of the playground is a tall oak tree, and about twenty feet up that tree is a little girl. She’s maybe seven or eight at the most and clinging tightly to a branch, her face streaked with tears.

“Hey, Harper,” Bobby calls, calm and steady. “What’re you doing up there?”

“I’m stuck!” she wails. 

“I can see that,” Bobby says. “Are you hurt at all?”

“‘M okay,” she sniffles. “But it’s too far, I can’t get down!”

“Hey, that’s alright, we’re gonna send someone up to come get you. You just sit tight and keep holding on, okay?” Bobby tells her. “We’ll get you down from there in no time.”

“No way we get the ladder in here,” Chim observes, pulling off his sunglasses. “We’re fenced in on all sides and the trees are too close together to get a good angle from the curb.”

“How’d she even get up there?” Ravi wonders, squinting up at her. “No way she’s tall enough to make the jump up to that first branch. I’m not tall enough to make that jump.”

“Never underestimate the ingenuity of a determined elementary schooler,” Hen says wisely.

“I can climb up to her,” Eddie volunteers. 

He moves closer to the trunk, knocking against the bark to check for soft spots, but it seems simple enough, as far as he can tell. It’s a healthy tree with lots of thick, sturdy branches—plenty big enough to hold steady beneath his weight

“You sure?” Bobby asks.

Eddie shrugs. “Yeah, I got it. I just need a— a boost or a chair or something to get started, but I’ll be fine after that. Then she can hold on to me while I climb back down.” 

He glances around, searching.

“Maybe we can drag that picnic table over and—“

“Here,” Buck says, stepping up behind him. 

He fits his hands around Eddie’s hips, a long line of heat against his back.

“What are you—?”

Eddie’s feet leave the ground and all thoughts leave his head. 

Buck lifts him like it’s not even hard, like he could do this all day, not a hint of strain in those massive biceps. Eddie fumbles clumsily for the branch, all the blood in his body rushing south so quickly he almost goes dizzy with it. 

“Eddie?” Buck prompts, lifting him just a little higher—like maybe the problem is that Eddie can’t quite reach. Jesus, he doesn’t even sound winded.

“Right,” Eddie mutters, pulling himself the rest of the way up. “Uh huh, yep.”

Once he gets his head in the game, the rest of the rescue goes smoothly. He has Harper clamber onto his back, then together, they carefully make their way back down. 

It’s when they’re standing on that lowest branch that they run into a snag. The ground around the tree is uneven enough that attempting the jump down is just asking for a sprained ankle, and that’s not even accounting for Harper’s extra weight.

They’re going to have to lower her down somehow, Eddie realizes. Either, lower her down or convince her to—

“It’s okay, you can jump now,” Buck tells her in a gentle, encouraging voice, already on the same page, his arms outstretched. “I’m gonna catch you.”

Harper shakes her little head, pigtails flying. “I’m gonna fall!”

“You won’t fall,” Buck assures her, and he’s so earnest about it that it’s impossible not to believe him. “I’ll catch you.”

Harper looks from Buck to Eddie then back again, her lip wobbling.

“You promise?” she asks.

Buck’s expression turns incredibly soft. “I promise. Big jump on three, okay? One, two—“

Harper jumps. Buck catches her—of course he fucking does—tucking her protectively into that broad chest.

“Great job!” he cheers. He runs a soothing hand down her back, then swings her up in a careful arc over his head and sets her down on her feet, earning a watery giggle. “I know that was really scary, thank you for being so brave.”

“I didn’t feel very brave,” Harper tells him, wiping at her face.

“Well, that’s the best part,” Buck replies, couching down to meet her at her level. “You don’t have to feel brave to be brave. But, uh, maybe next time we only climb trees when there’s a grown up watching to make sure we’re staying safe, alright?”

Harper gives a shy nod, looking up at Buck with teary, trusting eyes, and Jesus, it’s so easy to imagine Buck having a similar conversation with another little girl. Maybe one with dark, curly hair and a wide, toothy grin, a kiss of pink haloing one of her doe brown eyes—

“—ddie? Eddie!”

Eddie checks back in to find Buck grinning up at him expectantly, Harper having toddled off at some point during his daydream to get checked over by Hen. 

He holds out his arms and calls, “Sometime today, Diaz!”

Oh, this asshole.

“What, are you gonna catch me too?” Eddie snarks.

Buck’s grin only grows.

“Sure,” he says confidently. “Why, you got a better idea?”

Eddie’s stomach flutters, but not with nerves.

“You are not gonna catch me,” he insists, but he’s already shifting into position, bracing to jump. “Buck—“

“Of course, I am,” Buck says, and his tone stays light but his eyes turn serious as he holds Eddie’s gaze—like doing anything else, anything less, is simply unfathomable. “On three, yeah?”

And what can Eddie do, except listen? It’s Buck.

“One, two—“

There’s a split-second on weightlessness, then he’s in Buck’s arms. His legs lock around his waist and his arms circle his neck, all of his limbs sliding into place so naturally that it’s almost as though they already knew the way, as perfectly in-sync as they always are. 

Buck doesn’t so much as flinch, taking Eddie’s weight with a spine-tingling, toe-curling kind of ease. 

An arm around his back. An arm cradled under his ass.

The bluest eyes imaginable.

“Told you I’d catch you,” Buck rumbles.

“Never had a doubt,” Eddie breathes back.

Their lips are only inches apart.

“The rituals,” Chimney announces, loudly, from somewhere not nearly far enough away. “They are intricate.”

The moment pops like a soap bubble. Eddie rears back, startled, but Buck’s grip only tightens, a hint of that cinnamon-sunshine scent tickling at his nose.

“You— Buck!” he hisses, starting to squirm. “Put me down!”

“Bossy,” Buck teases, but obliges without fanfare.

And if it takes Eddie a couple tries to find his footing, enjoying the feeling of Buck’s body squeezed between his thighs for a second longer, that’s between him and god.

Bobby’s still talking with the babysitter and Hen’s coaxing a smile out of Harper as she tends to her scrapes, so it’s just Chim and Ravi left behind to witness Eddie’s horny circle of hell, which is two people too many.

Ravi mutters something that sounds like “…owes me twenty bucks,” then pulls an abrupt about-face and speed walks away when Eddie gives him a pointed look.

Chimney—distinctly harder to intimidate, god damn it—pops his gum, his eyes wide with glee.

“Shut up,” Eddie grouses, hoping his face isn’t as red as it feels, stalking back towards the ladder truck. “Not a word.”

“Not even one? I think I deserve at least one.”

“I know where you sleep,” Eddie threatens, and walks faster. 

“LAFD, make a hole,” Bobby says, shouting to be heard over the music.

The crowd of thirty-or-so sorority sisters can barely stop gawking long enough to part, whispering and giggling amongst themselves with half-finished mimosas in-hand.

“Where is he?”

“Right over here,” the young woman they’re following tells them, pointing clumsily—tipsily—towards the pool.

There’s another college-aged kid kicking and splashing in the water, his arm stuck all the way to the shoulder inside the narrow opening that leads to the filter. 

“Please, get me out of this thing,” he gasps out as they approach. He’s in the deepest end and is clearly struggling to keep his head above the water, though whether that’s due to exhaustion, injury, or inexperience is hard to say. “I’ve been treading water for, like, ever.”

“Buck, in the pool,” Bobby says. “Hen, Chim, crack open that cover. Ravi, get them to power down the system if they haven’t already.”

“Shoulder is still in the socket but there’s a lot of strain on the joint,” Hen determines, peering down into the filter from the opening embedded into the pool deck itself. “And I’m really not liking the look of his wrist.”

“Let’s get him floating on his back, but keep him nice and still,” Chim decides. “And keep as much weight off the arm as possible.”

Buck finishes kicking out of his boots and dives in. He positions himself behind the victim—Jordan, he tells them, between flailing, heaving breaths—and scoops him up in an almost bridal carry, the kid’s head and shoulders resting against one arm and his legs hooked over the other. Then Buck carefully inches forward until he can grab onto the lip of the pool with his hands, keeping them steady and in-place.

“Oh my god,” Jordan squeaks, tucked snuggly in the cradle of two huge biceps and a broad expanse of chest. Same, kid.

“Just relax, I’ve got you,” Buck assures him, perfectly competent and perfectly oblivious. “How’s that, guys?”

“That’s great, Buck, can you raise him up just a little— Right there, stop.”

“There’s some kind of chain jammed in the mechanism,” Eddie calls, angling his flashlight for a better look. “Looks like a piece of jewelry he was wearing got caught, then his hand got trapped against the sidewall when it pulled him in.”

“Can you see the clasp? Is it accessible?”

“There isn’t a clasp,” Jordan tells them. “It’s welded on.”

The team turns to stare at him as one.

“You have a chain permanently welded around your wrist?” Hen asks, incredulous.

“I’ve got three of them, actually.”

“What?” Chim exclaims. “Why?”

“My alpha got them for me,” Jordan informs them. “They’re forever bracelets. It’s like an engagement ring, but for mating instead of marriage.”

Eddie pauses, schooling his expression into something less judgmental. “Your alpha made you weld a bunch of jewelry around your wrist?”

“He didn’t make me. They were a gift.”

“And does he wear a bunch of chains around his wrist, too?” Hen asks, in her most patient, most pointed mom-voice.

Jordan flushes—though admittedly, it’s a little hard to tell, given that he’s probably cold from being in the pool for so long.

“Don’t say it like that,” he complains. “It's supposed to be romantic.”

“Uh,” Buck starts, looking perplexed. “Um, but… What if you break up? Or, like, need to take it off for work or something?”

Jordan stares at him like he’s the crazy one for asking. “Did you miss the part where it’s called a forever bracelet?”

Bobby sighs. It’s a deep one.  

“Ravi, pliers.”

“On it.”

Ten minutes of careful clipping and cutting, and they finally get Jordan extracted from the filter, arm intact. He’s more sore and exhausted than injured—and adamant about refusing a ride to the hospital—so Chim gets him fixed up with a sling and strict instructions to follow up at an urgent care as soon as possible.

Still, the kid looks a little miserable where he’s sitting off to the side, wet and shivering, with a towel someone found for him tucked over his shoulders, and Eddie finds himself wandering over to check on him.

“Hey, Jordan, right?” he calls out as he approaches. “You all set? Someone gonna give you a ride?”

“Yeah,” Jordan mumbles, pulling his towel tighter around himself. “My roommate's gonna take me when she gets back from class. And, um, thanks, again, for getting me out of there.”

“It’s what we’re here for,” Eddie says lightly, sitting down next to him. “But, uh, listen. I’ve never met the guy, and maybe it’s none of my business but, my two cents, one omega to another? It’s never a good sign if the person you’re dating is asking something of you that they’re not willing to do themselves. No matter what their designation is.”

Jordan deflates. 

“I think I knew that, somewhere in the back of my mind,” he admits. “Becca—my roommate—she’s been telling me for weeks that I can do better, but… I don’t know. I feel like I’m supposed to have things figured out by now. Find The One, start a life together, all that jazz…”

“Kid, no one your age has it figured out,” Eddie tells him with a laugh. “And I hate to break it to you, but no one ever has it all figured out. Anyone who seems like they do is just better at faking it.”

“Joy,” Jordan mutters. “Just what I wanted to hear: a lifetime of aimless, existential dread.”

“It’s a big world out there,” Eddie tells him. “You’ll find your person. Maybe you won’t even realize you’ve found them at first, but you’ll know they’re the one because they’ll make the bad times less lonely and the good times better than they’ve ever been, just by being there with you. And they won’t be perfect— They won’t know what the hell they’re doing any more than you do, but you’ll be in it together, and that will make it all worth it. Don’t settle for less.”

Jordan levels him with an extremely skeptical look, which, okay, fair enough. 

Eddie has a hard time believing it himself most days, even with the evidence to the contrary standing shoulder to shoulder with him, humming tunelessly to the radio, leaving his socks between his couch cushions, eating the last of the cereal, and replacing his laundry detergent with a fancy, ‘for sensitive skin’ variety because I know lavender makes you sneeze, Eddie, literally why would you lie about that? And! This one’s way better for the environment, so it’s a win either way. I was actually doing some research last night and did you know that Procter and Gamble is personally responsible for massive amounts of deforestation in vulnerable rainforest ecosystems around the world? What’s Procter and— Eddie! They’re the company that makes Tide!

He’s been there, is all he’s saying.

“Yeah?” Jordan scoffs. “And is this mystical unicorn of a person going to pop out of the ground or…?

As if summoned by the Greek god of Taking Your Cue, here comes Buck, walking past like a literal wet dream. He’s still dripping from the pool, his curls plastered to his forehead and the fabric of his uniform clinging to every delicious inch of him. He’s hauling a bunch of gear back to the engine so he doesn’t stop to talk, but he does flash one of those megawatt grins in their direction, wiggling the halligan at them in lieu of a wave, the fucking dweebus. 

Eddie adores him.

“Nevermind,” Jordan breathes, gaze transfixed on Buck’s retreating back. “I think I found him.”

“Put your eyes back in your head, kid,” Eddie says, chuckling. “He’s not on the market.”

Jordan heaves a massive sigh, grumbling, “Of course he isn’t. And I bet his omega’s absolutely gorgeous, too.”

“Eh.” Eddie gives a casual shrug, his mouth twitching around the start of a smile. “I’m alright, I guess.”

“You two are…?” Jordan lets out a low whistle. “Damn, nice job, man. How long have you been together?”

“Either seven years, or about four hours, depending on how you want to count it,” Eddie tells him, and he laughs again when the kid’s mouth falls open. “It’s a long story.”

“But, he’s your person?”

“That man would do anything for me,” Eddie says, and that’s a truth that lives deep in the heart of him, tucked between his lungs and carved into his skeleton, an intrinsic part of his being. “He’d follow me through hell and back, because he wouldn’t want me to go there alone. He’s my best friend. He’s the love of my life.”

“Dude,” Jordan says, eyes wide. “You’re kinda, like… making me believe in true love again or some shit.”

“Eddie!” Bobby calls over suddenly, one arm raised to catch his eye. “We’re about to roll out, let’s go.”

“That’s me, then,” Eddie says, pushing himself to his feet. “Good luck with the shoulder. And the boyfriend.”

“Thanks. Good luck with yours.”

“Nah, man,” Eddie corrects with just a hint of smirk. “He’s gonna be my husband.”

[sheinhamood]

cold exterior, warm heart

Kang-sae-byeok x f!reader

synopsis: Sae-byeok headcannons - what it would be like dating the one and only

warnings: mentions of sex, NSFW headcannons

word count: 305 [lowercase intended!]

funky talks: yall were so nice and supportive on my last fic thank uuuuu omg! hello new moots !

SFW

she is so protective of you. She's willing to put her life on the line to keep you safe.

she loves it when you guys go shopping together, she just hates it when you wander off sometimes.

not a big fan of PDA! in public she loves to show you hers but the most she will do is hold your hand.

her love language is definitely acts of service.

a year after you met she made sweet little surprises for you to come home to.

she likes to leave small sticky notes with loving words in places she knows you will find them.

when she's not behind you watching you make the food she'll help you cook it. quiet evenings like this she cherishes more than anything.

usually, after the food is done she'll clean the kitchen, letting you take your time eating and give you some time to relax.

when you guys are just lying in bed at night she'll often thank you for being her girlfriend still not thinking she deserves someone like you.

when she knows you had a long day she likes to throw your towels into the dryer a couple minutes before you get out so they are hot for you.

NSFW

she is very verbal during sex.

she praises you "you're so pretty, baby" "nobody does it like you"

at times she likes to be more dominant but she likes to switch letting you take control at times.

she is a huge tease.

enjoys seeing you get off rather than actually getting off herself.

always open to trying something new with you.

pasonante. pasonate. pasonate.

she puts everything she has into making you feel good, she prioritizes your pleasure over her own during sex.

loves holding your hand while she's strapping you.

definitely prefers to do more of the work.

thank you for reading! i heart you so much mwah mwah

masterlist

[laswells-ashtray]

I was bored so I just started to scroll on your account for entertainment (I do this very often ngl). I remember how you said that Alerudy would be into leather, and that reminded me of how during one of Alain Mesa's (Alejandro's voice actor) live's he was answering someone saying that if they were being bad he'll crack that damn whip. Now I can't imagine Rudy not being into this, he so is.

(I can't get this stupid audio "You got to put some swazz on it Gromit" when Rudy asks Alehandro to whip him harder and I'm trying so hard not to cackle)

I need you to know how loudly I cackled at that last bit, I did not expect to see Wallace and Gromit after Alerudy and leather.

The first time Rudy sees Alejandro crack a whip, he has to wipe at his mouth to stop himself from drooling and try to ignore the fact that he's tenting in his jeans.

Alejandro pretends he doesn't notice, he thinks he's doing it to be nice. But when he's standing plastered against Rodolfo's back, one gloved hand gripping his throat as the other man's breath hitches against the worn leather and Alejandro's other hand slips into his jeans, he can't help but ask, "How many times have you gotten off to the thought of the whip, huh?"

When he feels the instinctive twitch of Rudy's hips, he starts mentally shopping for another whip. One just for them. One just for Rudy.

Maybe he'd make Rudy buff it until it was shining and the other man's boxers are damp with pre cum, his face is burning scarlet as he looked up at Alejandro, just begging him to put the whip to good use.

[thewalrusespublicist]

hi! really enjoying reading your blog. i've listened to the beatles all my life but only now have i started looking into the more fandom side of things, and reading your interpretations/insights into a huge variety of beatles topics has been super interesting and informative!

as for my question, i've only recently learned how much paul is still like, actively grieving john. (obviously i knew he mourned his death, but john's now been dead longer than he was alive and paul seems just as grief-stricken as he was decades ago.) and something i've been wondering is if he's ever performed his songs that were obviously/highly suspected of being critical of john live since his death? based on much of what i've seen, i imagine he'd have a hard time even looking the fact that he was ever publicly reproachful of john in its face, so to speak. (when considering how wistful and rose-tinted he seems re: john, etc., if that makes sense?)

Hi anon!,

Thank you so much!

I would honestly have to look back at his set lists but to my knowledge, no. I really don't think he'd want to and, to be fair, I don't think there are many songs about John that are that critical and the small pool that are, aren't really suitable for live performances compared to others. Edit: I was wrong, Paul did perform Too Many People in 2005 as part of the setlist and briefly in 2008.

On the slight contrary though, as per the mention of 'mixed feelings' about John in the Lyrics book and other things, I think Paul's grief is intensely complex and that the public only get to see some of it. I don't think he is that upset or regretful about being critical, if you listen to the Salewicz tape closer to the time of John's death Paul says that he could have said an awful lot worse about John and Yoko but he hasn't because he loved John. In the context of the absolute tidal wave of garbage John threw at him, Paul arguably had the sense to not do or say anything really unforgivable so I think his conscious is pretty clear aside from not making up properly. I am not saying that Paul doesn't mean the nice things he says about John publicly (and if any of the anecdotes and stories about him in private are true, these stories are potentially more frequent and intense than you'd expect), but judging from various places and comments he seems to also hold some very difficult feelings about the last ten years of John's life too.

On the grief being so raw, sorry to go on a bit of a tangent but I've been listening to a podcast on grief recently with Anderson Cooper, and it's made me realise that Paul's presentation of grief is a realistic reflection of how intense grief for a loved one actually is compared to how it gets portrayed in the media and how Western culture likes to see it (ie you get like three years and it's done, moving on). A lot of people on that show talk in similar ways to how Paul talks about John (I see signs of them, they talk to me, they're a part of me, the grief can hit me randomly no matter how long its been, I keep things of theirs etc.) With Paul, the level of grief is I suspect how a lot of people actually feel when they lose someone who was extremely dear to them, but his is more on a public stage and so more visible than the standard person's. I do think his grief for John is complicated however by so much: the horror and senselessness of what happened, their unresolved issues, Paul's tendency to bury things deep, deep down, the intensity of his love for people and inability to process the death as 'it's too much' as well as the intense public attention. It's no wonder that the grief still feels so raw and unprocessed.

Paul is also an excellent example of how one's relationship with the deceased continues and evolves over time. Paul hasn't stayed in one place over John's death, his grief has evolved and transformed and I suspect intensified again in the wake of Get Back. I'm glad that by the sounds of it he is coming to a much happier place about it, even if it's potentially more rose-tinted than the reality. But hey, he's in his eighties, if he's going to have this weight of grief forever and if it gives him comfort he may as well focus on all the happy and sunny moments. More than power to him.

[blushblushbear]

How would all of the boys react to a yandere marshmallow 😮

Nimh: Nervous bunny, but he's electing to ignore all the red flags cause gosh you're cute! Also he does a little bit love how protective and attentive you are

Volks: mildly concerned but also kinda accepting his fate like 'of course I'd fall for someone crazy'. Still down, but he's chalking you up as the best bad decision he's ever made

Kelby: VERY NERVOUS. VERY MUCH IGNORING ANY RED FLAGS. Is CONVINCED he must be reading things wrong and that you're actually just a sweet person whose a little intense sometimes. It's okay, some people aren't the best with communicating. He's got you!

Eli: Oh you are CRAZY. And frankly-- that's kinda hot. Actually very hot cause you're obsessed with him. FINALLY, someone giving him the recognition he DESERVES. Though he may try and keep you away from any kitchen knives...

Anon: Oh he's watched enough anime to know where this is going. He's a little worried, but he also doesn't have the heart to get rid of you. Plus idk you seem so sweet the majority of the time... he's gonna accept your affections, but also keep the cops on speed dial. Just in case!

Garret: Does not notice it as red flags. You're just very sweet and attentive and PASSIONATE. He admires you're intense and a little bit frightening flare!

Dmitri: He's living his dark romantic drama dream. You're so adoring and obsessive and attentive and possessive and HOT. He's a little scared, but HE ALSO CAN'T STAY AWAY!

Ichiban: Eh, he's a popular streamer, so he's used to this kinda rabid fan. He's not used to them being so cute about it though, so you can stay, so long as you act as free security. And let him smooch you.

William: Is trying really hard to ignore any and all red flags cause usually you're just so so SOOOOO sweet. An absolute angel. there's just an edge to you that makes him nervous... but it's probably all in his head...

Myx: AGGRESSIVELY IGNORING ALL RED FLAGS in favor of highlighting your sweeter parts. Positivity! Holding up the ones you love! Hoping you stop glaring any time he hugs another fan...

Stirling: Ooooo, an obsessive, possessive lover eh?? It's been a while, but he's very game. This isn't his first soap opera-esque rodeo. Take him, oh adoring stalker in the night!

Scale: Sees you as his greatest challenge. Think you can out stalk HIM?? Well, you've got another thing coming!

Sven: A bit nervous but also willfully ignoring any and all red flags. This is fun! You're fun! And so, so silly!!

Cole: Also sees you as a challenge. A very, VERY thrilling challenge. You're so obsessed with him... it's intoxicating.

Poe: A little scared but also he's so down for romanticizing a toxic relationship. That's basically a poet's bread and butter. Let his heart suffer for his art!

Cashew: Another member of the concerned but ignoring it squad. He's equal part scared and thrilled by your possessive tendencies. He recognizes they aren't super healthy, but he can't deny they're kinda hot...

Seth: Crazy is the new hot. Also it's the old hot. Crazy's just hot. Hit him with your heat, this should be fun.

Reece: You are a fascinating-- TERRIFYING creature. The likes of which he's yet to encounter so directly. And since he can't seem to get rid of you... study it is!

Logan: fucking KING of the 'but they're so nice! how could they be an harm? they'd never even hurt a fly!' squad. Sees the best in you, ignores any and all red flags... You're just a very passionate soul. A soul----- mate <3

Aki: Man humans are weird about communicating. Silly goose probably doesn't even know how they're coming off! Oh well, they're usually such a sweetie and a cutie patoot, this weird little bit of possessiveness is probably just a one off thing! ...right?

Haru: You're not his first, and you probably won't be his last. But you MAY be his favorite. Crazy can be very hot, let's see where this goes...

Fuyu: Has such poor and unkempt social skills he full on doesn't even notice the red flag existing. In fact, he might admire your loyalty and diligence! He is fully unaware of the storm brewing beneath...

Ace: Another member of the 'But they're so nice! Such an angel! Look at them! they would never!' squad. Fully ignorance to your little toxic tendencies. Some of them being just flat out ignorance, but some being full on willful.