#you could do whatever to him and he would still stay. with a smile on his face.

[headkiss]

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

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

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

word count: 7.4k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

1.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you planning, Harrington?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

2.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It snowed!”

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

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

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

“Steve.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It hits you square in the face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?”

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

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

“It’s just a bit of snow, Stevie.”

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

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

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

“Buzzkill,” you tease.

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

“Steve!” you laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

3.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, that’s just chivalry, babe.”

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

“Thank you for this,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A perfect fit! She must be the one!”

“Dork.”

“That’s prince dork to you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You okay, honey?” he asks you.

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

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

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

“No, no. I’m good.”

“Steve.”

“Baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Best painkiller ever,” he says.

-

4.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm. That has a nice ring to it.”

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

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

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

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

“I run a serious establishment here, baby.”

“I thought I was in charge.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Steve?” you say against his mouth.

“Uh-huh?” he breathes.

“Do you smell that?”

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

“Fuck,” he groans.

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

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

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

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

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

“I just- I messed it up again.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

+1

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

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

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

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

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

“Honey?”

“Yup, it’s me!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His brows scrunch, “But Christmas is tomorrow.”

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

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

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

“‘Kay, Stevie.”

You kiss his cheek before he goes for good measure.

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

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

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

“You go first,” you tell him.

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

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

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

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

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

Perfect.

“You really think so?”

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

“I never let you carry anything, honey.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, well, I meant it.”

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

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

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

“Steve.”

”Okay, okay.”

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

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

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

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

Steve’s done keeping score.

Perfect Christmas. That’s it.

⁺̇◍̇̇̇⁺̇̇̇⊛̇̇̇̇⁺̇̇̇◍̇̇̇⁺̇

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

[scrumdidiliyumyum]

Something special |||

Yan!Batfam x Neglected!Reader

Prologue - > Part 1 - > Part 2 - > Part 3

How could he have known that you were with your friends?

You sat there for a while, in the cold car with the sudden realization that that man you had quite literally just met knew something he shouldn't have. Were you overthinking it? Were you just to tired to really comprehend the actual situation, your mind instantly going to something more darker and blaming an innocent man?

Maybe you were paranoid, just maybe. He was a vigilante for goodness sakes. He helps people, saves them. He most likely just assumed that you were out and about, hanging out with buds. There wasn't any need to jump to such big conclusions- to make an innocent man the target of your paranoia.

As you sat there, you tried your best to control your breathing, feeling it go out of control every time the thought of him knowing more than he should've creeped back into your mind. Maybe you really were just going crazy for all you knew.

Your hand shakily reached up to the ignition with the key to start the far, you couldn't think about this right now. Not in the middle of who knows where, alone, in a car. You tried, keyword tried, to push it away, to shoo away the bad thoughts until you were in a safer environment to be allowed to do so.

You drove back to the manor, trying to keep your mind in a happy place. Thinking of things to distract yourself, not noticing the skillfully hidden figure watching your vehicle make its way onto the street.

You slowly made your way towards the manor doors, not wanting to go in. God, why didn't you ask to stay over at a friend's house? If anytime was good, now would be, when your head was working against you and you could've used a friend to help you with it all.

Ah.

Your mind went back to a few certain people as you thought that. As much as you would've loved to, staying at a friend's house when some people were, "keeping an eye out on you," Suddenly disappearing probably wouldn't be the smartest move on your part.

You let out a sigh as you slowly opened the doors, looking around for a minute before making the hike up the stairs and back to your room. You kept looking around, at all the little places you memorized from walking through these halls for years. Something you were hoping would change very soon.

You jumped out of your trance as you felt a hand tap on your shoulder, whipping around and coming face to face with Duke who still had a worried look on his face. You opened your mouth to speak, but closed it as he beat you to it.

"Are you alright? I was worried when you disappeared all of a sudden." You held back to urge to roll your eyes, "yeah I'm fine don't worry. Really, there's no reason to be worried." You stood there awkwardly for a second before slowly turning to make your way back to your room.

Duke suddenly put that to a halt as he said, "hey, you shouldn't stress yourself out so much. I know you wanna work hard, but maybe try to relax, yeah?" You looked back at him, trying to think of what to say.

You would've been mad if it was anyone else, should've been mad nonetheless, but you never really knew Duke. He was always nice, and you both were older, teens when you both had first met. Despite everything, he still treated you the kindest.

So you sighed, before fully turning to face him. You softly smiled at him before saying, "thanks Duke, I'll keep that in mind." You patted his arm before walking back to your room trying to ignore the face he made, just wanting to sleep and prepare yourself for whatever tomorrow intailed.

Man you wished that you were old enough to drink.

You adjusted your uniform, tidying up as best as you could. You were a tad bit nervous, more than usual as today was the day you decided to quit a club. You had to step out of your comfort zone, and maybe it wasn't a big deal to some, but for you it was a really big deal.

All the times you had walked through those halls, hoping for something more from the very people that lived there, it hurt more than everything. And it still didnt hurt any less, but you were gonna make it okay, because you did have people to rely on, people who would be there, who would gladly hang up your photos and take time out of their day to be with you.

You wanted more then everything to start doing stuff you liked, be with people you liked, so that's exactly what you were going to do.

You gathered up the rest of your stray items and set them into your bag. Nervous yes, but overall thrilled to be doing this, patting your self before making your way towards your door to get to school.

You looked at a picture from one of the many photo booths you had run into the night before, hung up on your wall of you, Aryan and Ethan, all smiling, happy and making weird faces.

For the first time in awhile going to school didn't seem to hard.

"I'm sorry, I'm what?"

Your debate teachers face scrunched up slightly as he started to explain, "well, you're out, that's it." He paused before continuing, "technically, isn't that what you wanted? So I don't see the problem." You felt nothing but absolute confusion as he said that, slowly processing his words.

You did amazing, was, were, one of the best debaters, you were always helpful, willing to offer a helping hand to those that needed one, inside and outside the class. So what was the problem? Why were you suddenly cut off the team?

Him sighing and gesturing for you to lean in brought back your attention, "look, kid, to be honest, your amazing. But, this other kid, don't really know his name, started with a D? I don't know, but he waltzed in here, saying how he wanted you off the team, and started going on about you and stuff, something like that."

He scratched his head, "usually, I would just shoo people like that off, but he had a signed paper and everything!" He waved his arms around to emphasize the paper, "look, I'm sorry kid, I figured you knew about it since... well, y'know."

You could feel a huge headache coming on, desperately needing a pill. You paused your thoughts as you took what he said to mind. You stumbled on your words, "I- I'm sorry, Damien?" He nodded his head, getting a grim look on his face, "don't get me wrong, I've dealt with some freaky kids, but that one was definitely pretty freakish."

You were about to make your way into another rant, when you decided to leave it as it is. As much as you wanted to fight him on it, you know it wasn't his fault. You took a breath and forced yourself to calm down and smiled at him politely before taking your stuff and storming off, making turns through the halls towards your car.

You were going to talk to him, yell, whatever. Yes, you were going to quit the club, or a club, but just because didn't mean he had the right to butt in. It was your choice to make, one that seemed to be a good one, one that make you excited until you got there only to find out Damien had gotten you kicked out in the first place.

You and Damien never had a close relationship, always having some sort of rift between the two of you no matter what you did to try and repair it. And for once, for once, you decided you were gonna move on, live your own life, and he decides he doesn't want that?

No.

You weren't gonna just let him decide this. This was for you to decide, and you weren't gonna let him make something that should've been a new chapter into something else as he had done one too many times. You really didn't want that to happen right now, especially when this particular thing was supposed to be a turning point for you.

Maybe you were being dramatic, but in all honesty you couldn't care less. Sure, maybe at the base of it all, what you were really mad at was not just this, but all the other times he was ruined things for you, turning stuff that made you happy into stuff that made you cry and sick everytime it entered your sight, the fact that you were always to weak to put a stop to it.

You just hoped that you would be strong enough to tell him this time.

You slowly made your way towards Damien, having searched for him for a good while. You were filled with anger earlier, but it slowly faded away and out of your body once you noticed Dick standing by him.

You didn't know how to confront him with Dick by your side, at most he wouldn't care, right? You hoped with every fiber in your body that they would push whatever you decided on saying to the deep depths of their minds. As you neared them, the moment they took notice of you, you almost had to double back and go throw up from how nervous you were.

But, you held your ground and continued walking until you were infront of them, trying to hide how harshly you were breathing and the mini panic attack you were having on the inside. "Damien, can I talk to you, somewhere private?" You said with as much confidence you could muster. He stared for a moment before responding, "why? We can talk right here."

The small bite in his tone reminded you exactly why you were in this situation in the first place. Taking a deep breath, "fine. Damien, why did you get me kicked out of my club? It's my club, and you shouldn't have to go behind my back to talk to my teacher." You waited, trying your best to ignore Dick just staring at you.

He rubbed his eyes, sighing, before giving you a fierce look, "look, whether you like it or not, you're my sister. What you do directly effects me and father. And I'd rather not have to deal with you passing out in public, with everyone as a witness."

You scoffed at what he said, " your sister? Well whether you like it or not, it's not for you to decide! What I decide to do with my life outside- actually, inside this manor as well, had absolutely nothing to do with you, or anyone else that lives here."

You breathed harshly out of your nose, trying to keep a cool head but failing miserably. You took in a deep breath before starting another rant, " and y'know what Damien? I passed out once why does everyone think I'm suddenly this super fragile person?" -You barely noticed the way he winced from the pure venom of which you spat his name- "I honestly hate-"

Suddenly Dick covered your mouth, pausing after doing so as if not even meaning to. His eyes jolted around for a bit before settling on whispering, "please don't say stuff like that, okay?" You stared at him, pushing his hand off your mouth. "Say what? That I hate your guts? Is that what the problem is?"

He almost looked surprised at the hatred in your voice, before letting out a sigh, "look, I'm sorry okay? You're probably tired, and just need to go lay down-"

You laughed incredulously, absolutely shocked at his words. Had he even been listening? You decided that you had had enough of his- no, enough of their bullshit. It wasn't your job to cater to their every whim.

You decided then and there to just leave. You rubbed hard at your face, as if to try and rid of the tension and unadulterated anger coursing through your body. Was this whole family crazy? You honestly couldn't care less, you were tired, hungry, and just wanted to be somewhere safe.

You suddenly looked at the two annoyed, "I'm gonna stay at a friend's house tonight. Bye!" Quickly turning around, you started to make your way back down where you had come from. You pushed anything they had said out of your head as you tried to mentally retrace your footsteps back.

Because you had already spaced out, you hadn't noticed Dick speading towards you, completely blocking your path. You jumped at him suddenly invading your view, giving him a questioning look. He looked back at Damien a few times before muttering a quick, 'I'm sorry' and snatching your phone out of your hand.

You looked at him incredulously, at this point really wondering if it was all a dream. Dick stood there, trying to convince you to go to your room. "Look, I'm sorry, can you please go back for now? I promise I'll give it back later I just-" He paused as he looked back at Damien, the both of them having a silent conversation.

Suddenly Damien sighed and spoke up, "go away, I need to talk to Dick." You could feel his stare bore into the back of your head. You scoffed and just left, figuring it wasn't worth the fight. Although you wanted to try and grab it, you tried to soothe yourself with the fact that you still had your computer to contact someone- anyone.

Running Walking away, you could faintly hear Damien start to talk to Dick, 'I thought we told you already-' but you quickly pushed it out of your head. All you could think of at the moment was how pissed you were with those two, what was their problem??

Frankly, any other day you wouldn't have left. It was your phone, and they couldn't just suddenly decide to team up and take it away. But, you didn't care anymore, you were done with having nothing to deal with, then now having to deal with everything.

You tried to soothe yourself with the fact that this time tomorrow you would be out of here.

You walked into your room and slammed the door, sliding down against it trying your best to calm down. For all you knew they could've broken it. You mentally beat yourself up for not just snatching the phone back. The thought of that made you remember something as you sprung up, making your way towards your desk.

Pulling multiple draws open before your eyes finally landed on what you were looking for, you quickly grabbed it out, pushing along the few trinkets that resided on top.

Your laptop.

You needed to message someone, maybe Aryan? Would she even answer? Or maybe Ethan, he might-

.

You paused before quickly turning back towards the desk, once again looking through the drawer that held your laptop. You looked through it multiple times, taking everything out before moving towards other drawers.

After moving everything out, looking once again through the mountain of items that sat om your floor, even going as far as any other desks, drawers, hell, your backpack. Yet no matter where you looked, you couldn't find it. Did someone steal it? Did Aryan- or no, even Miss Honey take it?

Where the hell was your camera?

The dim room was faintly lit up by the big computer screen, shining onto nearby objects and the young man who sat at the desk it resided on. He watched the video, taking in every detail of it. The small giggles that got let out every now and then, the way you threw flour at the other girl in the video, laughing and smiling brightly.

Tim looked over the video, and the many others that were on the sim card over and over again. It was so weird- he never really cared about you, still didn't really. Then what was that aching tug in his heart? but nonetheless, seeing you there, no longer the small kid that he could always sense trailing somewhere behind him, it was weird.

He remembers the first time he met you, you coming up to him with a smile, bandages on your knee, hair wild. It was amusing seeing someone so full of life and color in such a desolate and dark manor. With how sleep deprived he was, he genuinely thought for a second that he went to the wrong manor.

But you weren't little, you weren't the same joy filled kid that he ran into so few times. You were older, and because he didn't know you it was easier to just place you as a faceless nobody.

Well, until you were brought to his attention.

It was like a parasite, the way he slowly heard more and more people talking about you, worrying about you. It honestly didn't make sense. You really weren't special, you had a few quirks here and there, but that was about it. What was so different?

After he ransacked your room, looking through drawers and settling on stealing a camera, he connected it to his computer and looked through the contents. There was a mountain of pictures, ranging from sunsets, to photos with friends, to even the beautiful shimmering ocean.(when did you visit the ocean?)

As much as he hated to admit it, he understood where the rest were coming from. The fact that you hadn't ever touched the dark vigilante life- never having the get your hands dirty from another person's blood, it made you so much different than them.

You were human, something to be treasured, to be kept safe and sound. He couldn't help but think of how different you seemed as of late. In the few times he saw you, he saw a quiet wallflower. But now? Seeing you so of life almost made him... admire you in a way.

The humanity you had, having the ability to be happy and share your love with those around you so freely. He could tell from each picture and video he looked at, the way you talked, looked, it made it so clear that you were someone overflowing with love.

And he longed for you to share it with him as well.

Hey guys...long time no see....

(*´Д`)

I wanted to drop this chapter for christmasss!!! Sorry it isn't Christmas themed though (-。-;) Can you guys tell how readers slowly starting to get more pissed off?? I'm VERY excited to not write a breakdown wink wink Anywaysss I've said this a million times but MERRY CHRISTMAS Or HAPPY HOLIDAYS if you dont celebrate SENDING HUGS AND KISSES TAGLIST : @wizzerreblogs, @darktrashpoetry, @daddyissuesehe, @chericia, @iluvcatzz, @fightmebissh, @fionnalopez-blog, @otterluver05, @kitkatkitmeow, @caged-birdies-blog, @ocean-mochi, @tatsuri-zomushiki, @nickey-diano, @nickey-diano, @cloudserenity, @seleneprince, @degenerates-posts, @definitely-not-sammie, @pix-stuff, @nervousalpacalady, @mys0cksrwet, @kore-of-the-underworld, @lilyalone, @alliwantisadonut, @shadowytravlerlover, @dreamsarenicer, @dhanyasri, @blackbirdsblackberries Thank you for the support 💓 I'm going to bed now (´Д` )

[gotta-winwin]

(🎄) ... mirth and good cheer - xmas special

⭐ starring: vernon

🎄preview: vernon used to fly back to new york every christmas for one reason only: his childhood best friend. christmas used to be his and y/n’s thing, until he got seemingly too busy to ever return. now, as y/n departs to korea for the first time, she can’t help but wonder if her and vernon would ever cross paths again. vernon, unbeknownst to her, has been wondering the exact same thing. as the boys set up their christmas tree in their dorm, he does his best to ignore how hints of y/n still seemed to linger throughout the holiday air. 

tw/cw: idol!vernon x nonidol!reader, childhood friends to lovers, estranged friends, slight miscommunication, fluff, slight angst, best christmas romcom vibes, features svt members, stubborn!reader, equallystubborn!vernon, use of y/n, flips between past and present day

☁️ masterlist & a/n: dropping a vernon x reader fic for our xmas special! doesn't vernon just scream childhood bestie to lover (੭˃ᴗ˂)੭ merry christmas my loves!

11 DAYS FROM CHRISTMAS 2024:

“That’s not how it’s supposed to work.” Mingyu slapped Vernon’s hand away from the tree they were decorating. “It’s supposed to be symmetrical, not whatever you’re doing.”

Vernon had to admit he wasn’t really paying attention. Their dorm auntie, the one who came around once a week to clean up the place, had baked them gingerbread men as a Christmas gift, and the smell felt like it had seeped into the walls of their dorm. It was a nostalgic smell, one that took him back to his childhood, new york and-

“Vernon?” Mingyu waved a hand in front of his face. “Are you even listening right now?”

He blinked, brought back from his thoughts. “Sorry, hyung. What?”

Mingyu could only let out a deep sigh, moving to place the bauble where he intended it to be. “You’re like this every Christmas. If you miss her so much, why don’t you just fly back?”

Vernon didn’t really know why he wasn’t flying back. He certainly could be, they were off work for the holidays and a plane ticket back wasn’t hard to find. He would be doing himself a favor, putting himself out of misery and finally seeing his childhood best friend. The thing was, he wasn’t really sure if Y/N wanted to see him. He shrugged. “I don’t miss her.” It was a lie and everyone in the room knew it. 

CHRISTMAS DAY 2003: 

Everyone who knew either of them would say they were smart kids for their age. Both only five, they whispered secrets to each other like little middle schoolers would on the playground. 

“My parents say I’m going to Korea.” Vernon whispered to Y/N as they watched a christmas movie. “Forever.” Vernon always had a dramatic, theatrical side to him, even as a child.

Y/N could only frown. “Forever? Why?” She couldn’t imagine her best friend moving anywhere without her. “Am I going too?” 

Vernon mirrored her frown on his own face. “I don’t know.” Sensing her sadness, he reached over and gave her a hug. “I’ll visit every year.” He promised. 

“Every christmas.” Y/N insisted. She had always loved christmas above all else. “So we can watch movies again.”

Vernon agreed. “Okay. Every christmas. It’ll be like-” He paused, his young mind searching for the word. “Tradition.” He smiled at her, proud of the big word. 

“Promise?” Y/N stared at him with wide eyes, reaching out with her pinky, extended. “Pinky promise me.” 

Vernon grasped her pinky with his, shaking it firmly. He felt like a grown up, making one of those important business deals. “I promise.” Turning back to the screen, he let out a whine when he realized they had missed the best part. “We missed the part where the grinch screams down the mountain.” He complained. “I wanted to watch that part.”

Y/N got up, searching for the remote. “I’ll turn it back.” 

Their dynamic never changed, even as they grew older. Vernon walked through life, Y/N following behind him with eyes filled with admiration, gently nudging the boy whenever he got distracted and began walking off-track. It stayed that way even with the distance, until one Christmas, Y/N woke up and Vernon had not returned. 

CHRISTMAS DAY 2016:

“Mom?” Y/N called as she walked slowly down the stairs. She had returned home from university for the holidays and was confused when Vernon wasn’t at his usual spot to welcome her home. “Where’s Vernon?” He was usually back from Korea by now.

She didn’t like the look of pity her mother was giving her. “He didn’t tell you, honey? He’s been so busy with work, looks like he can’t fly back to join us for christmas this year.”

She felt her heart sink. She had been looking forward to spending time with him, even if it was just a couple of days out of the year. “Oh.” Of course, she understood. His work was important and she was sure the kpop industry couldn’t be easy. “That’s okay. I guess he must’ve been too busy to tell me.” 

--

“What are you still doing here?” Joshua frowned at Vernon, who was lying down on his bed. “Shouldn’t you be in New York by now?” He was used to Vernon flying back to New York every christmas since they had met. 

Vernon let out a huff. “Not going back this year, Josh.” 

“Why not?” His friend pressed, confused. Vernon was usually so excited to go back. “Isn’t your friend going to be sad?”

“I can’t miss any more practice before our comeback. One Christmas should be fine.” Vernon explained, although his voice betrayed his disappointment. He had been looking forward to going back home, to be able to see Y/N again. He thought to himself that one christmas couldn’t hurt, right?

One Christmas missed turned into two. Then four. Then the timing felt too long and awkward and Vernon just never got the confidence to ever go back.

10 DAYS FROM CHRISTMAS 2024: 

Korea was beautiful underneath a sheet of snow. Y/N had landed last night, having made up her mind to give living in Korea a try. Ever since graduating university and landing a job as a screenwriter, her friends and family had always urged her to try working for the Korean film scene. 

She supposed she had always just avoided the country because of Vernon.

Her new job writing for some K-drama started after New Years. She thought maybe spending Christmas in a new place would bring back the mirth and good cheer the holiday used to give her, but she knew she was here for a different reason. A selfish and pathetic one. It burned her, that a part of her still wished to bump into Vernon after all these years. She knew he was doing well, SEVENTEEN was soaring through new heights and she had kept tabs on his ongoing success. It was the only way she kept going: his large internet presence sometimes made it feel like he never even left at all.

It hurt her the most that he could be doing so well without ever seeing her again.

Rounding the corner to the coffee shop, she rubbed her raw hands to regain heat. Ordering, she was relieved to find out she could still hold a conversation in Korean. It had gone rusty, the only people she ever used Korean with back home was Vernon’s dad and sister. 

“Hello?” Someone from behind her tapped her on the shoulder. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

She was greeted by a slightly taller, blond man, sporting black rimmed glasses and holding a cup of iced coffee. Her mind short circuiting a bit from the sudden Korean, she paused, trying to recollect her thoughts before replying. “I don’t think so?” 

The man’s eyes widened in sudden recognition. “You’re the girl in the Christmas photos!” He exclaimed with wonder, pointing at her as if they were long lost friends.

She squinted, giving him another look over. “Um..” She frowned, quite sure she didn’t know this man. 

“Sorry.” He smiled sheepishly at her, extending his hand for a handshake. “That probably came out wrong. You’re Vernon’s friend from New York, right? I’ve seen you in the pictures on his wall.” 

She blanched, all of a sudden feeling very light and disoriented. “I’m sorry.” She smiled politely, still racking her brain furiously for the guy’s name. “How do you know Vernon?”

“I’m Seungkwan.” He explained, dropping her hand. “Vernon’s bandmate.”

She let out a sound of realization. “Ah~” She knew who he was. “Seungkwan. Sorry, I didn’t expect you to have blonde hair now.” 

Chuckling at her shy admission, Seungkwan felt strangely sad to see the girl in Korea. “When did you come to Korea?” He asked, knowing Vernon would lose his shit if he found out they had been in the same location for a while. 

“I arrived just last night.” 

He left out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. Okay, at least it hadn’t been very long. “You should come to our Christmas party.” He suggested, knowing Vernon would be there. “It’s being hosted at Coups hyung’s house this year, and everyone will be there.”

Y/N shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to make things weird.” She already caught on to the fact that Seungkwan knew all about her and Vernon’s falling out, or lack of one. 

“You wouldn’t.” He insisted. “You must come. I’d hate to see you spend Christmas by yourself.” 

It didn’t take much for Y/N to relent. She supposed a part of her had been looking for a chance to see Vernon again. “Alright. I’ll stop by and say a quick hi to everyone.” 

Seungkwan’s smile was contagious as he beamed, grabbing a napkin to scribble Scoups’ address onto it and handing it to her. “It’s at 7pm on the 24th. Bring a present- something small.” He hurriedly gave her all the details as he left, mumbling about being late for a company meeting and how lovely it was to finally meet Vernon’s mystery girl.

Holding the napkin in her still freezing hand, Y/N felt utterly shipwrecked as she watched Seungkwan leave. Nine days was enough to prepare her heart to see Vernon again, right?

12 HOURS TILL CHRISTMAS 2024: 

The frost in the air bit at Y/N’s face and neck as she quickly rang the doorbell to Seungcheol’s home. It was smaller than she had expected it to be, homey and comfortably situated in between two other larger houses. 

“Y/N!” Seungkwan greeted her as he opened the door, tugging her in. “Oh, look at you. You must be freezing. Come in, come in.” Taking her coat from her and hanging it up, he beamed down at her. “I’m so glad you actually came.” 

She bit back a smile, taking off her shoes. “I couldn’t turn down an invitation from Vernon’s friends.” 

“Vernon’s in the living room with the others.” Seungkwan pointed down the hall, directing her over. 

Y/N paused, loitering in the hallway between the door to the living room and the door to the kitchen. She felt strangely pulled towards the kitchen, knowing it’d be safe without the chance of a potential run-in with Vernon. Turning decisively towards the kitchen, she pretended not to hear Seungkwan’s deep sigh as he followed her in, knowing the boy was disappointed she had run away. 

“It’s the girl from Vernon’s photos!” Hoshi sprung off the kitchen island to greet her, handing her  a cup of mystery liquid. 

She sniffed it before cringing away at the strong liquor scent. “That’s me.” She mumbled, shoulders sagging a little. “Does he really still have photos of me up? 

Everyone in the kitchen nodded simultaneously. “It’s been on his wall since we were trainees.” Joshua informed her, his eyes holding a teasing glint. “Every time we move places he just puts it back up.” 

Y/N didn’t really know what to do with that information. “Oh.” She replied, looking down in her cup, thinking. “I didn’t know that.” 

Seungkwan let out a loud sigh once again. “You should go talk to him.” 

She looked up. 

“Please.” He added, his tone bordering on begging. “He’s been so grumpy. Especially during the holiday season. I got a pillow to the face for asking him a simple question yesterday.” He grumbled out, complaining about his moody roommate. 

“What did you ask him?” Joshua asked, mildly curious.

Seungkwan shrugged. “Just if he was going back to New York.”

“Of course he threw a pillow at you.” Joshua rolled his eyes. “I’m surprised he didn’t just deck you, with how you were antagonizing him. You know very well he hasn’t gone back in years.” 

Y/N watched the conversation silently, gagging quietly as she sipped the concoction Hoshi had handed her. She absorbed the information diligently, her eyes widening the more information she got on Vernon. Distance had turned him into a stranger - and now, well, she couldn’t really say she knew him at all. It was strange, having to admit someone she used to read like the back of her own hand was someone she now didn’t know at all. 

“I’m going to the living room.” She decided, having had enough of the topic. If she kept listening to them talk about Vernon’s struggles and heartache about leaving her in New York one more minute she might find herself leaving for the night. Being in the same room with Vernon was just going to be awkward silence anyways. She knew he wasn’t brave enough to approach her. At least not tonight. 

--

“Y/N!” 

It was Mingyu and Wonwoo who greeted her from the couch, the two of them in the middle of an intense round of what looked to be Mariokart. They waved at her from their place, inviting her over to sit next to them. She was painfully aware of Vernon’s eyes staring at her from his place on the rug, fingers busy with a random puzzle that was lying out. 

“Hi guys.” She smiled, sitting down, laughing when Mingyu pushed Wonwoo in an attempt to disrupt his driving. 

“We didn’t know you were in Korea for Christmas!” Mingyu exclaimed. “Good thing Seungkwan bumped into you when he did and invited you over.” 

She glanced at Vernon, who was doing his best to pretend like he wasn’t interested in their conversation. “Yeah. I moved here recently actually. Got a job writing for a TV show.” 

Vernon’s eyes widened as he fixed his stare against the white rug. 

“That’s cool.” Wonwoo smiled at Y/N, happy for her. “It’s good that you’re in Korea now.” He side eyed Vernon, frowning when he realized the boy hadn’t even spoken to Y/N. Nudging him with his foot, he gestured with his gaze. “Did you hear Vernon? Y/N got a job here.”

Vernon nodded stiffly before standing up. “I think Cheol hyung’s calling me, I’ll- I’ll go see what he wants.” And just like that he was gone, rushing out of the living room. 

Wonwoo looked apologetically at Y/N. “I’m sorry about that.”

She shrugged, although her heart had cracked at the movement. “It’s okay.” 

“Maybe now that you’re in Korea you guys can be friends again?” Mingyu suggested quietly, although a part of him wasn’t really certain about it. “Maybe?”

“Maybe.” She mumbled, taking another sip of her drink, feeling her face flush with heat. Anger or embarrassment, she couldn’t tell. 

Maybe it was the alcohol speaking, but Y/N could feel her lips start to loosen the more she sat with Mingyu and Wonwoo, the party heading later into the night. 

“You know I used to hate you guys.” She admitted all of a sudden, jolting both boys out of whatever conversation they were having. 

“What?” Wonwoo frowned. “Why?”

“I hated Vernon for choosing you guys over me.” She lowered her eyes to the floor, feeling ashamed. “I know it’s childish of me, but hating you guys was how I dealt with it. I couldn’t bring myself to hate Vernon for his own actions.” 

Mingyu looked at her with sad eyes as he patted her on the back gently. “I get that.” He reassured her, and she looked over at Wonwoo who was nodding as well. 

“Do you still hate us?” Wonwoo asked, his voice calm.

She shook her head. “No. So I guess I’m just-” She paused. “Confused now.”

She hated how pitiful their looks made her feel as she sat there, nursing her half finished drink, mind spinning. Perhaps it was time to leave her silly childhood infatuation with Vernon in the past. It seemed like he had done so already anyways. 

10 HOURS TILL CHRISTMAS 2024: 

Vernon felt like throwing up the moment he saw Y/N enter the party. It felt like a vision, something he had conjured up within his own mind, until the others had greeted her and shattered his vision into reality. 

“Talk to her, you moron.” Seungkwan nudged him. He had retreated from the living room into the kitchen the moment Y/N had sat down with the others on the couch. It physically stung to be in the same room as her, with all the knowledge that he had failed her and their once cherished friendship. 

He took another gulp of his drink instead of answering Seungkwan. 

“She clearly still loves you, y’know.” The boy continued upon hearing Vernon’s silence. “Or else she wouldn’t be here. And didn’t you always tell us Y/N would follow you around like a puppy whenever you were back home as kids?” 

Screw Seungkwan and his amazing, awfully selective memory.

“So?” Vernon mumbled, rolling his shoulders back and feeling himself tense. “Things change.”

“You’ve changed.” 

Vernon stared at his friend, thrown off by the sudden harsh truths. “What?”

“I don’t think she’s changed at all, Vernon.” Seungkwan observed. “It’s you who’s changed and you who has to fix it.” He paused. “Or at least explain it to her. Why you don’t want to be friends anymore.” 

“I do want to be friends.” He stated plainly.

Seungkwan cut his eyes at him, exasperated. “Then tell her that. Jeez, bro. You suck at this.” 

“We’re swapping presents now!” Seungcheol poked his head out from behind the hallway door. “Everyone in the living room!” 

Vernon grabbed his present from the counter and headed in behind Seungkwan and Joshua, turning the box in his hands as he examined the poor wrapping job he had done last night. He had bought the most generic gift he could find, knowing it was going to be a random swap with the boys. The thing he hadn’t accounted for was Y/N showing up - and now it had thrown both his present and him off the game. 

“Grab a pair.” Seungcheol announced loudly to everyone in the room, as there was a mad scramble for partners. 

Vernon found himself standing alone in the midst of his bandmates all already coupled up, limbs tangled together in an awkward mad dash for a partner. His eyes met the only other person with a partner and he stifled a pained cry. 

“It looks like you and Y/N are exchanging gifts this year, Non.” Seungkwan shot him a large grin from his spot next to Mingyu.

He knew this had to be preplanned - fate couldn’t be this cruel, right?

“Go on.” Seungkwan poked him in the back, urging him to approach Y/N, who suddenly seemed to be very captivated by a nearby portrait of Seungcheol and Kkmua, placed on the shelf next to her. She stared at it intensely, although Vernon knew she was still hyper-aware of the fact that he was slowly walking towards her. She had that funny way of darting her eyes towards the person she was avoiding while not facing in their direction. 

“Y/N.” Her name sounded so foreign yet so familiar across his tongue as he spoke.

“Vernon.” 

Her voice felt like coming home. 

“Here.” He placed his gift in her hands as he took hers, turning it awkwardly in his hands. “What is it?” He asked, shaking it gently. 

The corners of her mouth lifted. “Telling you would defeat the purpose of it being a surprise.” 

“You said that last time too.” 

He watched her stiffen at his words and he immediately regretted bringing up the past. They both knew last time had been years ago. 

“I guess I did.” She replied stiffly, turning his gift in her hands. “What’s yours?”

“Thought you liked your presents to be a surprise?” He recalled, remembering how she used to whine that he must wrap her presents, when the teenage him had insisted that just putting it in a bag would be fine. 

“I do.” Her tone made it sound like she was just remembering that fact herself. She looked up and shot him an awkward smile. “I guess I don’t really know what to say.”

“Me either.” 

He could’ve sworn he saw her face drop at his words. 

They separated soon after, the uncomfortable silence taking over and suffocating them both out of the vicinity of each other. Vernon returned to his spot in the kitchen, picking at the pieces of takeout still leftover on the counter, listening to the others squabble over meaningless things. 

He watched Y/N leave, feet rooted by the hallway door and mouth firmly shut closed - he didn’t trust himself to say goodbye to her - he knew that if he had, a million unsaid words would have spilled out and the night would have ended terribly for the both of them. But it was the fear that kept him still most of all, as he watched her exchange numbers with Seungkwan, hugging the others and promising to keep in touch. He stayed as still as a statue as the door shut behind her. 

“You idiot.” Seungkwan turned to face him as soon as he locked the door. 

“Seungkwan.” Seungcheol’s warning tone made Vernon look at him. He was sending a strong warning glance at the boy. 

“What?” Seungkwan protested. “He is being stupid.” 

“I think I’m going to head back.” Vernon mumbled, grabbing his coat and hurriedly throwing it on, Y/N’s gift clutched tightly under his arm as he headed for the door. “Thanks for the party, Coups hyung.” He called behind him, shutting the door behind him and welcoming in the cool, biting winter air. 

He released the pent up breath that had been choking him all night and furiously wiped away the tears that had begun to form the moment he shut the door behind him. 

“Idiot.” He quietly chided himself. “So stupid.”

CHRISTMAS 2018: 

“Are you really never going back to New York?” Joshua prodded at his arm with an insistent jab of a finger. 

Vernon hummed in response. “There’s no point. My family prefers coming to Korea for the holidays anyways. They get to visit family here and everything.” 

“What about your girlfriend?”

Vernon turned his head to see Joshua sporting a shit eating grin. “You know she’s not my girlfriend.”

“Might as well be.” He shrugged, pointing at the various photos that featured her against his wall. “Look at your pathetic loving gaze at her in all of these photos. You’re not even looking at the camera in any of these.” 

Vernon frowned at his comment, taking a good look at the photos and realizing Joshua was right. “Doesn’t matter what I feel, hyung. She’s not my girlfriend.”

“She’ll never be if you don’t go back.” Joshua suddenly got serious, as he shifted in his seat to look at Vernon better. “Is there an actual reason why you won’t go back? I know we were too busy the last two years but this year we’re free.” 

Vernon stayed silent even though the answer was clear as day in his mind. He was scared, terrified even. Terrified he had hurt her by neglecting her due to his heavy schedules, that she would slam the door in his face if he tried to visit her. “I don’t want to see her hate me.” He finally spat out, cringing as he said it. 

Joshua let out a tiny noise of understanding. “So you’re avoiding her. Pretending so you don’t have to deal with the consequences.”

“When you put it like that you make me sound like an asshole.” 

Joshua gave him a look that bordered on pitiful. “I don’t know what to tell you, man.” 

“I’d rather remember her like this, y’know?” He said, pointing at the way she smiled at him in the pictures on his wall. “Instead of-”

“She might not hate you.” Joshua reminded him quietly from next to him. 

“I really, really doubt that, hyung.” 

5 HOURS TILL CHRISTMAS: 

It wasn’t computing properly into Vernon’s head that you had just gotten him the one thing he’s been wanting all his life. 

He had been ogling the Novation Launchpad Pro that was currently sitting on his work table for the last hour, not really believing what he was seeing with his own two eyes. Unwrapping it had been a heart attack in of itself, as he opened up Y/N’s present to reveal the one thing that had been sitting on the top of his childhood wish list since he could remember. Even now, as a famous artist who could afford the splurge, he had never gotten it for himself, knowing it was a luxury and a purchase he didn’t necessarily need. 

“What the fuck, Y/N.” He muttered in disbelief, sliding his palm down his face as he continued to stare at the gift. It was fucking fantastic and exactly what he wanted, and it made him feel even worse about the whole situation. 

She might not hate you. He recalled the words Joshua had told him one time, Christmases ago. 

“Someone who hated me wouldn’t have gotten me this, right?” He said aloud to himself, reaching a timid hand out to fiddle with the launchpad controls. “How did she even know we’d be exchanging gifts anyways?” And how on earth does she know I never got myself one? In what felt like a split second decision, Vernon felt himself walking towards the door of his apartment, sliding his shoes on and grabbing his keys - only one destination in mind. He had to fix this, somehow. Because there was no fucking way she still hated him.

4 HOURS TILL CHRISTMAS:

She would’ve complained that the sudden doorbell at 3am woke her up but she hadn’t really been sleeping. Y/N had been lying in bed with her eyes wide open since the moment she’d gotten home, the bag of chocolates and various snacks from Vernon left on her kitchen counter. She had stifled a laugh when she opened it - even till this day, Vernon’s go to gift was still the same. Chocolate and snacks can never fail, he had told her, defending his choice of gift. Especially when you don’t know the person too well. 

She supposed that line made sense for their situation too. 

“Vernon?” She squinted at the figure standing on her porch in the dark. “What are you doing here?” She rubbed her eyes, mildly wondering if she was dreaming. 

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as he stared down at her. “You got me the launchpad.” 

She blinked. “Yeah.”

“How’d you know?”

She stared back at him, stunned at his bluntness and the randomness of the current setting. “You never shut up about it.” 

His mouth opened and closed again. She watched as he tried looking for words, his vocabulary ultimately failing him. 

“Come inside.” She said quietly, noticing how the harsh winter wind blew at his thin coat. Dragging him gently inside, she shut the door behind them both, turning around awkwardly to face him. She never thought she’d ever see him in his apartment - yet he looked so perfect.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, eyes darting around her place, taking it all in. “I know it’s late.” Glancing down at her pajamas, his lips quivered in a small smile. “Cute.”

“What?” She stared at him indignantly, completely thrown off by his behaviour. “Are you drunk?” She reached out a hand to touch his face, trying to check his temperature, but he caught her hand in his before she could reach. 

“I’m not drunk, Y/N.” He dropped her hand like it had burned him. 

“Then what are you here for?”

She watched him moisten his lips as he stalled for time. 

“I wanted to say sorry.” He finally said, his words tumbling out as if they had been held back for long enough. “I shouldn’t have cut you off like that.” 

She thought she’d have a more visceral reaction to the apology she had been waiting for all this time, but she didn’t. “Why are you saying this now? It’s been nearly ten years, Vernon.” 

“I know. I’m sorry.” 

Her shoulders sagged at his words and the sight of his dejected, ashamed face. “Why didn’t you come back? Or text me?” She asked him, pleading for an answer. 

He finally looked up and met her eyes. “I guess I was scared. I got busy one year and didn’t go back- and I neglected our friendship. And then-” He paused, his voice breaking. “I left, and time passed and staying away felt simpler than going back. No goodbye felt better than a bad one.” 

“It wouldn’t have been a bad goodbye.” 

He shook his head. “You hated me.” 

She looked away, remembering all the times she had cursed him for leaving her behind when she was younger. “Maybe. But never for long.” She mustered all her courage to tell him her next words. “I loved you too much to hate you for very long.” 

Vernon blinked at her. “You loved me?”

She hummed in response, still not quite looking at him. They stood there, by her door, in the dim lights of her apartment. 

“How did you even get my address?” She suddenly asked, forgetting he shouldn’t have known where to find her. 

Vernon stayed silent, his mind still reeling from the sudden love confession. She used to love me? 

“Vernon.” Y/N nudged him. 

“Oh.” He finally responded, although his own voice felt like light years away as his mind continued to reel. “I asked my sister. Didn’t know you guys still talked.” 

“Oh.” 

“You used to love me?” He asked, incredulous, not quite believing her words. “Why?”

She laughed, and the sound wrapped around Vernon like her hugs used to. “What do you mean, why? Of course I loved you. I followed you around like a lost kid our entire childhood.” 

“I loved you too, y’know.” 

Her smile dropped as she paused mid-laugh. “What?” 

He took a step closer to her, unsure where the sudden confidence was coming from. Vernon searched her eyes for some figment of affection, for truth, for the way she used to look at him when they were younger. “I don’t think I ever stopped loving you.” He finally admitted. “I definitely tried to, but your hold on me lasted through distance and time.” 

“Me too.” 

“What?”

“I never stopped loving you too.”

[iloveboysinred]

SNOWED IN.

|MDNI 18+ content | Sylus x afab reader

synopsis; Sylus surprises you with a week-long trip to a ski resort in Alaska.

cw; afab reader, no use of y/n, crack/fluff. Sylus and reader are whipped for each other, sylus is bad at skiing , Gets a bit spicy but not outright smut, an attempt at writing something cutesy for the holidays. instagram posts at the end <3 (lets all pretend alaska exists in the lnds universe)

3114k words

If there was one thing Sylus was exceedingly good at, it would be spontaneity. It seemed like every other week he had something new scheduled for the two of you. Whether it’d be a date to an upscale restaurant, or the grand opening of a new club he had recently bought; Sylus liked to keep you entertained.

Christmas was coming, and it was his favorite time of the year to spoil you and treat you to luxuries you’d never thought accessible before. This year he’d planned a costly week-long getaway trip to a ski resort in Alaska, complete with a cozy private cabin and various activities to make your stay as memorable as possible.

You were beyond excited, packing all of your warmest garments and feeling less than guilty clearing out your schedule for the entire week. Your heart nearly fluttered away from your chest when you heard the coded knocks at your front door. Sylus, your very own prince charming, was finally here to rescue you from the painful dullness of everyday life. Eager, you open the door and pull him inside before he could get a word in, his surprised grunt ripping a fit of giggles from your chest as you embraced him, rocking his taller frame side to side in your arms. Sylus laughed, affectionately petting your head when you released him, running around to collect your things and throw in whatever you thought appropriate.“What an excited little kitten.” He mused to himself, holding his arms out dutifully as you piled on suitcases and bags for him to carry.

You don’t even try to hide your appreciation, doting on him with warm kisses and words of gratitude as he finished hauling the last of your luggage into the car. He returned your affections with quiet mirth, cradling your face into the plane of his chest, lovingly sharing his warmth with you. “Let's go, sweetie.” He murmured into your hair after a while, regrettably pressing a sweet kiss to the crown of your head and opening the passenger door for you all gentlemen-like.

Mephisto cawed to you in greeting from his perch on the arm rest, quickly nestling into your lap when you sat down, cooing like a needy cat demanding his share of your attention. You complied, stroking the bird’s bill tenderly as Sylus started the ignition, driving at less than favorable speeds.

Arriving at the resort felt like you had just stepped into winter wonderland. Undisturbed snow stretched for miles, blanketing the large hills and mountaintops overlooking the resort in blinding white. Pine trees decorated the open plains, their thick branches weighed down with heavy snow, just barley blending in with the surroundings. You eagerly surged out of the jet, drinking in the scenery despite the biting cold. Sylus followed you out, handing the luggage off for the twins to carry back to your cabin.

“Excited?” Sylus tenderly wraps a thick scarf around your neck, pulling a lip of the knitted fabric over to cover your nose. You nod, rubbing your eyes to ease the soreness you felt from the beaming sun reflecting off of the white snow. “So, when do we start skiing?” you turned towards him with childish enthusiasm beaming in your eyes, jet lag long forgotten. He only smiled, taking your hand in his “let's head to the cabin and change first. The vacation would go to waste if you catch a cold.” You obliged, feeling a bit ahead of yourself, but still unable to stop yourself from drinking in your surroundings as he led the way.

The cabin, albeit sizable, was as cozy as you had hoped. Familiar aromas of cinnamon and nutmeg greeted you as you opened the door, your eyes blinking appreciatively at the old timey lamps stationed at every corner of the cabin, bathing the room in a comforting glow. The large floor to ceiling curtains suppress the outside world’s natural light. In the living room area, a large bearskin rug laid out in front of a river-stone fireplace, complimenting the assortment of fur blankets and bedding neatly folded on the couch for you to use.

The bedroom itself matched the interior decoration, two matching nightstands sat at each side of the large bed, complete with layers of thick blankets and pristine pillows. The nightstands themselves each had its own lamp, and two satin sleep masks folded neatly over a set of matching robes for the both of you. Before you could even begin to strip down and change into appropriate attire, Luke and Kieran leisurely stroll in through the door, dropping duffel bags onto the hardwood floors, whatever was inside hitting the floor with a loud clang!

“We bought the skiing gear you requested, boss.” Luke chirped, pulling down the bottom part of his ski mask, his nose rosy red from the outside cold. “We even got the extra stuff you wanted. The gift shop is impressive” Kieran added, cheekily grabbing one of the complimentary pastries left by the staff and handing Sylus what you guessed was his credit card. They exchanged a few more words you couldn't make out, only hearing their enthusiastic shuffling before the door shut behind them.

Turning around you met Sylus’s gaze, mischief dancing in his eyes as he walked towards you with the two duffel bags in hand. “Better suit up sweetie, the twins are waiting for us at the bunny slope.” you eagerly grabbed the bag he outstretched to you, hurrying off to change.

To your surprise Sylus had sent you ahead, claiming he needed to unpack a few things before he could feel truly comfortable heading out to join you. In the meantime, the twins kept you company, racing you down the gentle slope a few times before moving on to a different hill. You became the designated photographer, the three of you snapping pictures and laughing as you wandered up and down the resort, your cheeks growing numb and flushed from the biting cold. You watched as Luke and Kieran raced down the ‘black diamond,’ the two of them darting past each other and leaving long tracks in the snow, their shouts of excitement nearly drowned out by the wind. It was then that you noticed nobody else was waiting in line to take a turn. The resort was basically a ghost town, save for you and the staff.

Briefly, you wondered if Sylus was planning something. It wasn't unusual for him to rent out or even buy a space for just the two of you to enjoy, but his insistence for you to go ahead without him and his quiet exchange with the twins raised alarm bells in your mind.

Kieran’s panicked shouts drew you out of your thoughts a second too late. You felt them before you saw them— the impact of twins crashing into you was strong enough to send the three of you toppling over into the snow. Recovering from the initial shock, you broke out into a fit of laughter, the twins awkwardly scrambling off of you, their hurried apologies coming from all angles as they helped you to your feet. Distracted by the sheer comedy of the moment, you just barely missed Mephisto’s loud cries from overhead, signifying Sylus’s upcoming approach.

The crow descended from the sky like a hawk, clicking and cooing as he landed on your shoulder, shaking his feathers out in protest to the wind. Sylus appeared soon after, fully decked out in ski gear and heavy clothing, you would barely recognize it was him if not for the aura and presence he exuded, effortlessly maintaining his elegance despite how silly he looked with his oversized snow goggles and weighty ski boots, exhibiting the classic penguin waddle of somebody not used to wearing skis. “decided to join us?” You mused, regarding him with fond eyes as he approached. “Of course,” he shifted in his spot uncomfortably, the heavy ski boots felt like they added 5 pounds to each foot, and you could already picture the irritated furrow in his brow. “Couldn’t let you have all the ‘fun’. Now, who wants to try their luck in a race against me?” You grinned, grabbing his wrist and all but dragging him to the chairlift while the twins followed.

It was hard to race against Sylus when the man could just barely balance himself on the ski’s. You watched in amusement as he clicked them on to the bottoms of his boots, slightly wobbling his way over to you once safely off the chairlift. You smiled from behind the ski mask, holding his arm while he adjusted his stance. It was obvious Sylus had never skied before, yet he still shooed away your doting hands, standing up straighter to clumsily maintain his balance. “Are you ready to lose?” You teased, waddling closer so that he could hear you through the protection of your mask. “Lose? “Don’t be so sure of your victory just yet, kitten.” despite his self assured tone, you don’t miss the way his hands gripped the ski poles to steady himself. You giggled, shifting a few feet away from him to ready yourself.

The twins counted down from behind you, and on the third mark, you pushed off and down the hill. Wind whipped around as you descended down the slope, and you quickly angled your ski’s into a v-shape to gain more speed, skillfully leaning your weight down onto the boots. You could just barely see Sylus from your peripheral, delighted to see him holding his own but still unable to gain advantageous speed.

In minutes you scored your victory.

“It seems you’ve won.” Sylus grumbled, coming to a stop next to you and very quickly clicking the ski’s off, again, balancing on the poles. “When you say it like that, it's almost as if you can’t accept that you’ve lost.” You mused dusting the snow off of his goggles, giggling when he slid them over his helmet, his eyes squinting at the sudden adjustment. “I can always just teach you, Sy.” He scoffed, already trekking back towards the chairlift. “Let's go again.” Unbeknownst to you, the twins crept away towards your cabin, swooning over the secret pictures they had taken of you and Sylus as they eagerly headed to complete their task.

You stayed outside until your muscles locked and your hands were numb.racing over and over until the daylight sky had darkened into beautiful midnight, the lack of light pollution providing the stars an open canvas to shine at full luminosity. It was beautiful, the hues of purple and blue painting the open sky stealing your breath away. Following Sylus back to the cabin had you light on your feet. The silence of the surrounding woodland created an air of private intimacy. It was only you and him out here, where no prying eyes could follow.

You paid no mind to the darkness that greeted you when you opened the door, the both of you carelessly stripping off the heavy snow-proof clothing and leaving it on the couch for tomorrow. You stop in your tracks as you enter the bedroom.The room was candlelit, adding to the cozy atmosphere the cabin already provided, on the bed Sylus had assorted a barrage of different gift bags– all from different upscale brands, a mix of names you recognized and others you didn't. In the center of it all, sat a large maroon box, topped with a pretty black bow.

Sylus sauntered in, his chest pressing against your back. You leaned into him, your heart beating in your chest as his arm slid over yours, intertwining your fingers. “A gift for every day that we spend together.” He whispered, pressing his lips to the crown of your head. You turned around in his embrace, your eyes shining with emotion. “Sylus, i- i don’t know what to say…thank you.” he smiled, cradling your face in his large hand, his nose brushing against yours as he leaned in. “You don’t have to say anything. Just let me hold you like this a little longer.” you closed the space between you, shyly touching your lips to his in a gentle kiss. Sylus responded, holding you close to him as he returned your love. Melting into his arms, you stood on your tippy toes to deepen the kiss, conveying your adoration through your actions. You carded your fingers through his hair, ruffling the silky strands and he moved with you, his hands coming down to rest at your hips, pressing back into you with the same neediness. Slowly, he parted from you, releasing a breath. “I’ve drawn a bath.” his voice had picked up into a rasp, invoking jitters to run up and through your body. “Okay.” you breathed, wading out of his arms and letting him guide you to the bathroom.

You were pleasantly surprised to see the bathtub adorned with tea lights and a small record player sitting on the bathroom counter, a vinyl already inserted and ready to be played. Sylus swiftly moved the tonearm onto the vinyl, and the record began to spin. Unhurried, you undressed each other, exchanging heated kisses and wandering touches that set your skin ablaze.

Finally making it to the large tub, you sat in between Sylus’s legs, comfortably leaning back into him as he gently rubbed a soapy sponge over your skin. You felt your muscles relax, the steaming water loosening the knots that had begun to form after a long day of travel and strain. You closed your eyes, reveling in his touch, the music from the record player adding the perfect touch to your intimacy. Sylus pressed kisses down the side of your neck, slowly lathering the aromatic soap over your chest with the sponge, his intentions indiscreet. Leaning your head back, you let him kiss you breathless. The unique aroma of his cologne and natural musk overwhelmed your senses, your head spinning with each shift of his bare body against yours. It didn’t take long for Sylus to take you for himself, the water sloshing and spilling over the tub becoming evidence of your copulation.

Once dried and in your robes, the two of you grazed over a small charcuterie board, sharing glasses of wine and aimless small talk. Unable to stop yourself, you leaned over to his side of the bed where the two of you had pushed the gift bags away to safety and picked up the maroon box that had caught your attention the most, sitting it on your lap as you looked at him, fingering around the black bow curiously. “What’s in here?” Sylus shrugged, the corners of his mouth upturning, repressed excitement clear on his face. “I don't know, kitten. I guess you’ll just have to open it and see.” You carefully untied the ribbon and cracked open the box. A beautiful dress laid folded inside, matching earrings and a necklace delicately placed on the collar. You placed the accessories on the lid of the box, admiring the intricate design.

It appeared to be two lizard like—no, two dragons guarding a silver plated ruby, the earrings matching the beautiful gem. The dress itself was a deep maroon, matching the box it came in. The material felt silky to the touch, and its length was much too long for you to fully admire from your seated position. You glanced at Sylus, holding the dress up to your chest. “It's beautiful Sy. But, when would I wear this?” He chuckled at the awe on your face. “We have dinner tomorrow.” He stood up, retrieving the record player from the bathroom and setting it on the bed, re-spinning the vinyl and clasping your hand to pull you towards him. “It's somewhat of a winter’s ball. Now would be good practice.” You leaned into him, allowing the taller man to take the lead and sway you to the music.

“This is hardly ballroom dancing.” You mused, letting him twirl you around, feeling just as elegant in your bathrobe. “We’ll do it our way.” He took you in his arms, twirling the two of you around to the melody before placing you back down. You felt like you were walking on clouds, and as you gazed into the deep sanguine of his eyes, you realized that you’d hadn’t seen him today. From the ski mask obstructing the view of his face, the few hours you had spent apart entertained by the twins, and even in the bathtub, where you both had given in to your most carnal desires—the day had tossed you up into a storm, offering you little to no time to admire the man before you, who could effortlessly swept you off your feet, the man that has done everything—no matter how mundane, to satisfy you.

The time was now. You drank him in; the silver strands of his hair, still damp and moussed against his skin, perfectly matching the beautiful ivory frame of his eye lashes. His thin, perfect lips and the perfect slope of his nose- and of course, his eyes. Beautiful, intense scarlet bore into yours, a thousand unspoken words in his adoring gaze. As the song slowed to a stop, so did the two of you, your lips meeting again in sweet kiss, holding each other close unhurriedly pouring your hearts dry.

And as the day’s exhaustion caught up with you, the bed was welcoming. You laid against his body, his arm a comforting weight around your waist. Your body lost consciousness before your mind did, and you didn’t miss the amorous words he whispered into your ear.

Bloopers and ig posts!

Luke and Kieran crept into the cabin reserved for you and Sylus, Mephisto perched on Kieran’s shoulder. They looked around once, twice— before they entered. They had been instructed to light each and every candle Sylus had set out before you would arrive. Both to prevent the fire hazard and to ensure the candles were still lit once you came in. “Who knew the boss was so romantic?” Luke mused, taking the candle lighter and flickering on the tea lights around the tub. “I wonder how she managed to steal his heart” Kieran called back, bringing forth the small record player and vinyl, delicately placing it on the counter. The two of them swooned, admiring their handy work. Mephisto cawed a warming. You and Sylus were approaching. Alarmed, the two of them finished off the last of the candles, quickly shuffling towards the back window, hurriedly tumbling out when they heard the keys jingling in the lock. They landed hard in the snow, grunting as they tripped over each other trying to flee the scene, Mephisto following overhead.

[solxamber]

Pomefiore, 7, Comedy/Fluff

everytime i see a pomefiore request, an angel gains its wings

Always Watching || Rook Hunt

For the Holiday Event! || Prompt: "For you, anything" ; Genre: Comedy/Fluff

You slumped against the bed, your head drooping as you let out a pitiful groan. Rook sat beside you with a concerned expression, holding your hands gently in his own.

"Mon amour," he said, voice dripping with theatrical worry, "you look as though the very life has been drained from your enchanting form."

"That’s because it has," you muttered. "Crowley’s got me running around like his personal errand mule. I’m doing everything except polishing his tailcoat at this point. I’m so tired, Rook. I think my soul is trying to escape my body."

Rook's eyes narrowed, and a dangerous glint flickered behind the veneer of his charming smile. He tilted his head, his golden hair catching the dim light. "Ah, such a grave injustice cannot stand."

You sighed, too exhausted to argue. "Unless you’ve got some magic solution to deal with Crowley, I’m just gonna have to suffer until I keel over or he decides he’s bored of me."

Rook’s smile sharpened. "Leave everything to me, ma chérie. For you, anything."

You didn’t think much of it. Rook often said dramatic things, and you figured he was just trying to cheer you up. You kissed his cheek, thanked him, and promptly fell asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow.

The next day, Crowley summoned you to his office. Expecting another list of unreasonable tasks, you dragged yourself there, only to be greeted by something completely unexpected: a visibly nervous Crowley.

“Ah, prefect,” he said, wringing his hands. “Good news! I’ve decided there’s no need for you to handle all those tasks. I realized that as a benevolent and magnanimous headmaster, I may have been… overly reliant on you.”

You stared. “...Really?”

“Yes, yes,” he said quickly, waving his hand. “Go, enjoy your youth or whatever it is students do. No need to thank me. Now, off you go!” He ushered you out of his office, looking pale and slightly sweaty.

You blinked in confusion but decided not to question it. After all, a reprieve was a reprieve. And who were you to argue with divine intervention?

Later, you met up with Rook in the woods. You relayed the strange encounter with Crowley, still baffled. "It’s so weird. He looked… spooked, almost. But hey, I’m not complaining. It’s about time he stopped using me as his personal assistant."

Rook chuckled, his emerald eyes sparkling with mischief. "Ah, ma douce étoile, perhaps the universe has finally decided to grant you mercy."

You raised an eyebrow. "You wouldn’t happen to know anything about it, would you?"

He leaned in close, his cryptic smile widening. "Moi? I am but a humble admirer of beauty. How could I possibly influence the decisions of our esteemed headmaster?"

You squinted at him. "Rook—"

Before you could press further, he grabbed your hand and twirled you dramatically. "Come, my love! Let us revel in the splendor of the forest! The beauty of nature is calling, and I refuse to let you waste another moment thinking about mundane matters."

And just like that, you were whisked away into another one of Rook’s adventures. His enthusiasm was infectious, and soon you forgot all about Crowley’s odd behavior.

Unbeknownst to you, Crowley had indeed woken up the previous night to find an arrow lodged inches from his head, attached to a note written in elegant, looping script:

Mon cher directeur,

While I greatly admire your leadership, I must request that you cease overburdening the prefect. I have many talents, as you know, and it would be a shame for them to be used against you.

Always watching.

Crowley had nearly fainted. By morning, he’d resolved to do whatever it took to stay on Rook’s good side—even if it meant giving you the break you deserved.

And Rook? He kept his secret, because in his eyes, what mattered most was your happiness.

Masterlist

[ssloveslogan]

❆ christmas treat ❆

warnings: MDNI, reader x logan, i feel like i should mention there’s a bit of father/daughter cuteness with logan and rogue (i can’t help myself i miss them), porn with tiniest amount of plot, p in v, panties stay on, unprotected sex

- christmas themed fic obvs! merry christmas guys hope you all got what u wanted under the tree (tearing up because hugh jackman wasn’t there BUT i did get a cutout, calendar and shirt of him😝)

the x-men mansion was buzzing with holiday cheer, a welcoming warmth against the outside bitterness. today is christmas, and the atmosphere was filled with laughter, music and the smell of baked goods wafted through the halls. later tonight, everyone would do their secret santa exchange and you, like everybody else, had been eagerly waiting for the moment when you could finally stop waiting and could open your gift.

but, the one thing you were even more excited about, was the look on logan’s face when he sees what you had gotten him. somehow, you had drawn out your boyfriend’s name from the hat this year and, god, was it hard to find something for him. your struggle to find something for him was quickly overcome with a brilliantly personal idea.

so, here you are, on your bed, placing logan’s favourite blue lacey panties of yours and a polaroid picture in a small rectangular box wrapped in festive paper and tied with a shiny blue ribbon. the polaroid picture in question was a filthy picture of you from a couple days before, spread out with your cunt on full display, post-orgasm, cheeks flushed and arousal soaking your pussy. you just couldn’t help yourself, what else were you meant to do when you were horny as fuck and logan was on a mission?

your train of thought was soon disturbed by the opening of your door and in came logan. you were quick to hide the gift under the bed and you gave him a smile, in attempt to make it look like you weren’t just wrapping his secret santa gift up.

“what’s got you all smiley?” logan chuckled and raised an eyebrow when seeing your grin wide on your face.

“oh, nothing, don’t worry about it lo,” you giggled, biting your lip to stop you from giving yourself away. “soo, did you get your person their secret santa gift?” you asked, wondering if he even bothered this year.

“yeah, i did. i got rogue this year so i figured i’d get her something. got her some makeup and chocolate” he spoke grumpily as if he was buying her stuff against his own free will.

“that’s really sweet of you, lo! surprised u even did it this year” you tease him and he rolls his eyes in mock annoyance.

“yeah, yeah, whatever.” he huffs out but you notice him trying to hold back his smile. “anyways, who’d you get? or are you still not gonna tell me?” he question with a hopeful look in his eyes.

“that defeats the whole purpose of secret santa y’know that, baby? you will find out soon, you desperate man” you smirk and play nudge his stomach as he scoffs and tries to act annoyed but his walls tumble down at the noise of your laughter and his heart warms.

“we should get going now, right lo? can’t have you waiting to find out who’s name i pulled out any longer” you giggle and logan groans.

you begin to get up and put your shoes on as you realise you probably should be going downstairs to gather up for the gift exchange, seeing as you are already late. you grab your gift and hide it in a bag and then you wait for logan to put on his leather jacket and take his gift too. once you’re both ready, you give him a quick peck on the lips and intertwine both yours and logan’s hands together. you smirked to yourself, knowing of what’s to come.

the both of you swiftly make your way to to the christmas tree where all the adults and some of the older kids were gathered around. christmas lights twinkled around the room, stockings - with everyone’s name sown on it- were hung by the grand fireplace and chatter filled the space up with a cozy ambience.

“i’ll be back” you say to logan, letting go of him and walking off towards the tree to place your gift for him under it, before he could grumble about being alone. oh how you can’t wait for the gift exchange, your patience is going down by the second.

your eyes wander around the room before they land on storm and jean and you smile, making your way towards them.

“look who finally decided to join us!” storm teases while embracing you in a friendly hug.

“i’m surprised logan even came for it this year, normally the guy just stays outside while smoking his beloved cigars” jean snickers and makes all three of you fall into a fit of giggles. “hey, who’d you get for the secret santa?” jean questions while sipping on her drink.

you smirk at them and a little giggle comes out ��i got logan” you say, biting your lip to stop your laughter from erupting even more.

“girls! come on, we’re opening the secret santa gifts!” scott shouts out before you guys could say anything else about the topic at hand, and you three step towards the christmas tree and huddle together.

you sit on the couch alongside your girl friends, surrounded by the glow of the massive christmas tree. the sound of laughter and the occasional tearing of wrapping paper filled the air as people opened their gifts one by one. you turn around and notice logan, leaning against a wall, nursing a bottle of beer. his gaze was already on you and you smile, winking at him.

it’s rogue’s turn to open her gift and she absolutely loves it. even though logan doesn’t give up his identity as the mystery giver of said gift, you notice him smiling to himself - proud of what he had gotten her.

soon enough, everyone had opened their gifts - you had gotten a gorgeous silver necklace from kitty with a heart pendant in the middle. well, everyone but one final person, logan howlett.

“alright, logan, you’re up!” rogue beams, signalling for him to come over and open it with everyone. he grumbles yet he still makes his way over, curiosity getting the better of him. he leans over to grab the perfectly wrapped gift with his name written on it and stands back, closer to the wall, while gently untying the delicate ribbon.

your legs bounce in newfound nervousness, what if people saw? you clearly didn’t think it through very well but you pray to yourself that he doesn’t take it out of the box. you watch his every move, waiting for him to finally peek inside the box, the one-sided tension growing in your body.

logan slowly takes the lid off of the box and he tenses, stopping himself, making sure not to take the contents of the gift out for everyone to see. his pupils dilate at the polaroid of you, tongue sticking out, eyes rolled to the back of your pretty head and your swollen pussy all on show with your glistening juices dripping down your cunt. underneath the polaroid he saw the perfect blue panties he’s had to repurchase you dozens of times from the amount of times he’s ripped them off of you.

“s-shit..” he murmurs to himself, feeling the tent in his jeans grow. the room was trying to figure out what was even inside the box and why he seemed so off. you, on the other hand, smirked to yourself as you felt a sense of victory at the reaction you got out of him.

logan quickly closed the box and glanced up at you with darkened eyes, his face radiating off want and desire and you simply smirked at him, winking, as you felt yourself dampening on the spot from his intense gaze, ignoring the way he made your tummy flip.

“sooo, what’d you get?” rogue said to cut the uncomfortable tension everyone else sensed in the room.

“nothing” logan’s voice dropped an octave as his eyes remained on you the whole time. you shuffled, feeling vulnerable under his gaze.

everyone knew they weren’t getting an answer from logan, so they dropped it at that, continuing their conversations and acting as if nothing had even happened. you also tried to pretend like it was just a normal christmas day, but you saw logan, his gift still in his hand, and he was striding towards you.

your heart rate fluttered when he briefly stopped infront of you - breathing heavily, knuckles white from the grip on the gift and his nostrils flaring in need.

“o-oh! hey, baby! wha-” your stuttered out sentence was swiftly cut off by logan picking you up by the waist with one arm and throwing you over his shoulder.

“logan! logan, put me down!” you shout, bashing your fragile hands on his stone hard back.

you continued with your pleads and apologies in attempt to get him to put you down, but the rush of arousal hit you hard, the possessive act sent floods of heat through your veins. your own body betrayed you as you feel yourself dampen even more and your nipples were slowly hardening.

logan pays no mind to your lousy attempts and he makes his way to your shared room, slamming then locking the door behind him. he tosses you and the gift onto the bed, following you down with his own weight. he leans in close, his face hovering just inches from yours, his hot breath fanning over your lips. you can see the raw desire in his eyes, the way his pupils are blown wide with lust. you can see his hunger for you written all over his face. without warning, his crashes his lips against yours in a searing, passionate kiss. it’s not gentle or sweet; it’s a kiss born out of desperation, need and untamed thirst. you pull away breathless, and begin to speak.

“lo? you okay baby?” you tease, a playful glint in your eyes but all confidence is lost when you see his face not even twitching to smile. you rake your hands through his hair and he leans into your neck to bite into the supple skin, making you gasp and tilt your head back to give him more access. his tongue laps to gently suck over the mark to soothe the sting as he continues to litter your neck with kisses and purple bruises.

“l-logan..” you whine, exhaling sharply as you feel tears pooling in your eyes from the overwhelming sensations on your neck. after what feels like forever, logan pulls away to admire his work and he reaches for the gift box, opening it to pull out the familiar lacy blue panties he adores.

“need to fuck you with these on you” he rasps, slowly stripping you of your clothes until you’re bare for him, exposed and defenceless.

“christ, you’re just soaking for me darlin’, arent you? filthy fuckin’ girl, you get off on me carrying you around, baby? you like knowing i can pick you up whenever i want?” he smirks, seeing your cheeks flush pink while you nod weakly at him.

“don’t worry doll, i’ll help you out.” he grunts, tapping your hip signalling for you to lift them as he makes you wear nothing but the panties.

“perfect, you look perfect like this, baby. you wanted this, hm? wanted my attention with the gift? you got it now, i’ve got you.” logan says while quickly unfastening his belt and getting rid of his jeans and boxers. his tip was leaking with beads of pre-cum, his tip swollen and red, and he gently pulls your panties to the side and places himself in his spot between your thighs.

“p-please lo, want you to fuck me” you whine, your neediness displaying as he teases you by rubbing himself on your weeping folds.

he wanted to watch you squirm just for a little while longer, but his little self restraint disappeared when hearing your sweet voice begging for him. he lines himself up at your pulsing hole and before you could say anything more about needing him, he plunges deep into you, knocking the air out of your lungs as you both let out a deep moan. he begins to move slowly, pulling out before slamming back in, pounding into you mercilessly.

“love this pussy, always so fuckin’ tight for me” he growled, his breath hot against your ear as he continued thrusting into your wet heat, vigorously.

his words only fueled the fire burning inside of you and your walls clench around him tightly. “harder, please logan, i want you to fuck me harder” you begged, voice strained with pleasure.

“you want it harder, baby?” he smirks darkly before slamming into you with renewed intensity. “like this, baby?” he asks as his hands make their way to your hips, pushing you down even deeper onto him.

“j-just like that lo, so fucking good b-baby.” you moan loudly, tears prickling at your eyes from the profound pleasure-pain.

the bed creaks with every thrust while the bed frame hits the wall, creating a rhythmic thump-thump-thump. “making such a mess on my cock. ‘m gonna fucking ruin this pussy, doll” he groans, while reaching down to rub tight circles on your clit.

as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you, you can feel every ridge and vein of his thick member stretching your inner walls. you clench around him, the knot in your belly tightening, making him groan and shudder above you.

“i’m gonna come lo, so close” you whimper out as he continues to drill into you, his cock dragging deliciously against your sweet spot with each stroke as he drives you closer to the edge.

“i know, baby, that’s it. be a good girl for me and come on my cock, doll” logan grunts into your ear as you scrape your nails down his back, leaving marks which are quickly healed again. you throw your head back and arch into him as you convulse and spasm around his length, your orgasm crashing over you, making him groan in pleasure while you moan into his shoulder and dig your nails deeper into his back.

he works you through your orgasm as his thrusts become desperate, his own release stirring inside of him. with one final and brutal thrust, logan buries himself deep inside of you and he holds still. his cock throbs and pulses as he releases his hot seed into you.

“s-shit, so good for me..” logan grunts, his face contorting with pleasure and his chest heaving erratically. he pulls out with a wince as he lays next to you on his back. you move to lean onto his chest, the warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothing you. logan’s arm tightens around you as he leans in to kiss your head while gently stroking your hair.

“i guess you liked your gift then?” you giggle and look up at him with your fucked out smile, already knowing his very obvious answer.

logan chuckles and glances down at you, admiring your post-orgasm beauty. “loved it, baby. might have to somehow make you get me again next year.” he grins while tracing patterns on your arm.

you giggle and move upwards, your noses brushing against each other, lips barely an inch apart. “merry christmas, logan” you whisper, leaning your forehead to press against his.

“merry christmas, darling” he whispers back, smiling softly at you before closing the distance between you both to share a soft and sweet kiss.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

❆ i rushed this so badly and didn’t proofread it so i’m sorry if some bits don’t make sense and wrongly punctuated guys!! but also i’ve been so busy this past week i literally am surviving off of what feels like zero sleep at all. hope u did enjoy this tho we all need some christmas logan content.

[aplaceforhumancorpses]

𓉸⁺‧₊˚ AFFECTION ROTS 𓂃🦇

„⤵ MILD ANGST „⤵ 1 / (?) PARTS „⤵ JASON TODD X READER Highschool sweethearts aren't meant to last, but Jason wants to change that, even after his ressurection.

After April 27th everything that once tasted sweet became bitter. Teenage romance is a ticking time bomb. It's a promise of flesh not made to last— meat rots over time, affection rots over time— and eventually, it all becomes rancid and sour.

Maybe that's what happened when Jason died. When your eyes met, a countdown began, ticking relentlessly toward its end. His time was always borrowed, and the clock, merciless as ever, simply ran out. The world the two of you shared stopped being his, and in the wake of it his memory became merely something to drive the day forward. Everything you couldn't be motivated to do was slapped with the statement "But Jason would've wanted you to" It was like a toxic parasocial relationship. His corpse dragged you in and out of pits of guilt and grief, while your body remained stagnant his ghost became restless inside of your head. Eventually, until you started to lose him in pieces.

Briefly, you would visit the box in your basement that contained some of his things. Hoodies and novels he read. You would smile at the annotations he made with sticky notes. Saving quotes that probably sounded deep and emotional to a teenage boy. A stuffed animal that smelled vaguely like him, or his cologne anyway. That box was where the memories of his existence stayed, buried under the blanket you had placed there. Admittedly sometimes you didn't want to think about him. It felt wrong to think of it that way. Grief is fatal to the mind. It's a disease. And maybe, on the worst days, it’s easier to let the infection run its course than to keep cutting into yourself trying to clean the wound.

You did a lot in the time between his last breath and now. life moved on, whether your sweet innocent Jason was beside you or not. After graduating high school, beginning your freshman year of college, and getting your first apartment it became easier. His cardboard grave sat there untouched, collecting dust, holding pieces of him you didn’t need anymore. Whatever you hadn’t already discarded, you packed away and left in the past.

yes, it still stung. Not like it used to—no longer sharp and unbearable. Instead, it lingered, dull and constant, a bruise you couldn’t stop pressing. Jason became irrelevant, just another detail in your coming-of-age story. Dating other men still felt like cheating. Still felt like betrayal. He'd probably be jealous if he saw you at those college parties. He was the type of boy to fight for you until his knuckles bled. Maybe he didn't have enough time to get the words out, but the sentiment would have been there. Even in death, you were his.

Your room grew up with you. The calendar you'd gotten as a white elephant gift was months behind. Your bedsheets kept the theme you chose for your room years ago. You barely even slept in it properly. There were bookshelves full of classics and poetry that were untouched. It wasn’t a sanctuary. It was a mausoleum. More often than not you would leave empty fountain soda cups on your desk like ornaments of the slump you were in mentally. The only things you'd done in this place were sleep and stare at your phone screen.

You ordered food hours ago. You couldn't be bothered to go and collect it yourself, but your driver never arrived. You took that as a hint. You simply weren't meant to eat tonight. It hurt to know how little you were spending on your own needs and desires. But you could hardly complain when you were living off the kindness of strangers. Your bills were paid by societies focused on providing for low income students. This money didn't come from nowhere. So why did you spend it on fatty junk like fast food? Your appetite was gone by now. But as a heavy thump reverberated through the wooden door on your apartment you shot up in hope of fatty junk fast food. Your hopes fell quickly as soon as the sounds from behind the door faded into nonsense dance of shuffling and pacing. You turned off your lamp. Maybe it was some drunk who had the wrong address. he would obviously realize this wasn't the right crack house, even though the decor suggested otherwise, and he would leave. You were tired and ready to turn in.

You heard it again. It seemed louder this time. You got up, stepping up onto your toes to look through the peephole. You were only met with the chest of this unwelcome visitor. You unlocked the deadbolt and pushed the door open slowly. Whoever it was was clearly out of it and angry. They didn't wait around for you to greet them. They barreled past you, knocking you against the door frame. They crashed into the kitchen counter. Folded over like a crumpled rag doll, holding their ribs.

The figure was large. Tall. Male obviously. Uncanny.

Some kind of muscular walking frankenstein of a human form.

You reached for the house phone. Should you call 911?… was this some kind of botched break in? It didn't look like he had any weapons.. but he probably had enough surface area from the base of his palm to the tips of his fingers to cover the entirety of your neck.

Before you could move, a hand slammed itself onto the table and you flinched away. The stranger looked back into your eyes, the whites of them so bright they nearly glowed like headlights.. the pupils dilated and narrowed.

"Who are you?" you whispered, your throat sore and dry, "What do you want?" You couldn't make out his face in its shadow. But it looked like someone very familiar…. Someone you knew well but couldn't quite remember in your stupor. You shook your head slightly to clear the haze.

He took slow, deliberate steps toward you, dragging his massive body from the kitchen island to where you still stood, frozen in place, pinned against the doorframe. The wind whipped harshly behind you. He closed the door gently, no longer slamming it. No longer banging. His arm went around your shoulders as he pulled you close. His breath warmed your ear.

"You… grew up without me.. You got really pretty. Just like i thought you would.." He breathed out, his lips brushing your hairline. You were still. In shock, you didn't dare react at all. "…I missed you." His grip tightened.

You felt the skin on his fingertips pulling against your arms and shoulder. You were too terrified to make a noise. Almost too terrified.

"You're dead." You said, pushing against his familiar warmth, trying to escape whatever strange force held you there. It didn't budge. "This is a really fucked up dream.. Jason wasn't this tall- or strong-" You broke off, swallowing thickly. Tears blurred your vision. He squeezed you tighter. You couldn't tell if you were imagining it or not. You weren't sure you were awake. "Let go!" you cried out. He frowned.

"Please… let me have this. just for a minute." He pleaded. "It's been too fucking long.." you could hear him begin to sob. There must have been something in the air that made your stomach twist and churn unpleasantly, until you sighed shakily.. giving in and relaxing as best you could against him. You weren't sure what exactly was happening- this wasn't real, right? What were these feelings you were having? Fear? Regret? Anxiety?

As you allowed your head to rest atop of his chest, you stared at the floorboards beneath your feet. You tried to calm yourself down. Your hands were trembling uncontrollably.

It was clear. The affection he held for you had not withered. It was as fresh, as raw, as it had been back in March, before everything fell apart.

Jason couldn't rot. He wasn't meant to.

...

Haha I'm so evil. Comment + Reblog? Where should the story go from here?

[legalmente-loca]

OKAY COULD YOU DO #1 WITH SOLDIER BOY BUT WITH LIKE A LOT SMUT..?? ALSO CONGRATS ON 100 FOLLOWERSSSSS

Christmas At Vought

Prompts: You dressing like a cowgirl

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You and Ben have a relationship in the shadows, even if he doesn't agree with it. Will he be able to resist you in disguise at Christmas?

Word Count: 1,623

A/N: Oh, darling, I couldn't just make a drabble of this

Tags/Warnings: 18+, smut, fingering, cowgirl inverted, dirty talk, language

You and Ben had a complicated relationship. In fact, according to everyone else, you didn't have any kind of relationship other than professional. You hid your relationship knowing that Vought wouldn't approve. After all, he was with Crimson Countess for popularity reasons. But you didn't have powers. You worked at Vought as the director's secretary and interacted with superheroes, but what would the fans of the first hero think when they saw that he were dating someone inferior to him?

So the two of you had a discreet relationship, in the shadows. Whenever you could (and even when you couldn't) you would sneak out to mess up your hair and clothes.

But it wasn't enough for Ben. Ben wanted to show ownership over you, to place his hand on your ass so that others knew you belonged to him and kiss you whenever he wanted, without worrying about who was watching.

But that was how things had to be.

It was normal for Vought to have parties every month, each with a different theme. This time, for Christmas, Vought had decided to have them dress up as a bygone era, so you didn’t think twice.

You had dressed up as a cowgirl, a checkered shirt with ripped jean shorts and a belt that held a fake gun. You also wore a cowboy hat.

“Well, look who came as a sexy cowgirl.”

You recognized the voice and turned to look at him. Obviously the great Soldier Boy would come as he wanted without respecting the theme. He simply came in his hero uniform, helmet included.

“Soldier Boy-”

“You know you can call me Ben, gorgeous.” He smiled charmingly and walked over to you, looking you up and down openly.

You sighed and glanced at him out of the corner of your eye.

“Ben, you know they can’t see us in public.”

“And you think I care about that?” He moved closer to you and pretended to look around as he whispered in your ear. “I could touch your entire body dressed in that tight outfit and I still wouldn’t fuckin’ care.”

You cleared your throat and turned to look at him.

“You need to control yourself, don’t make a scene.” You murmured.

“But you know I love to make them.”

He ran a finger down your arm, his body radiating heat and burning your skin.

“Ben…”

“Honey…”

You sighed and glanced around. It was a difficult task to resist Ben.

“Listen, later we’ll do whatever you want, but for now, let’s stay away from each other.”

He growled and placed his hand on your lower back possessively.

“I want you now.”

“Well you won’t have me.”

“Who fucking says?”

“Me.”

You pushed him away and started walking, knowing Ben was watching your every step.

An hour passed. Conversations surrounded you and the sound of Christmas carols was low. The whole place was well decorated, well, you had been a part of decorating. And Ben had often come to “help” you.

You had passed him a few times, but he didn’t even look at you. Maybe that was your punishment or maybe he had decided to listen to you for the first time (it was probably the first one).

You were chatting with some other people when he came in, drink in hand.

“Hey, folks.” He said as he patted your coworker on the shoulder, almost knocking his arm out of place.

“S-soldier Boy.”

It was very common for people to turn to look at him whenever he walked into a room. The attention was only on him and everyone wanted to get close to him if he was in a good mood. If he wasn’t, no one wanted to be around.

“Having a good time?” He asked with a smile.

“Very good, sir.”

“Well, that’s good to hear.”

The conversation continued, your coworkers clearly pleased to be talking to America’s great hero. But at one point, Ben stepped forward and tripped, the contents of his drink falling on your shirt. You gasped and looked at him in annoyance.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, doll.” He grabbed your own cup and quickly passed it to one of your companions before grabbing your arm, not giving you two seconds to think that he was already pulling you away. “Come, I’ll help you get all cleaned up.”

He led you to the bathrooms and immediately pinned you against the door as he took off his helmet and threw it across the room.

“Ben!”

“I can’t stand seeing you like this anymore, talking to other people like you don’t want me to fuck you right there.”

His movements were quick and unexpected (in part). He grabbed your breasts through your clothes and squeezed them, making you moan and arch your back.

But he didn’t even have time to look at you naked. He needed you right now.

He grabbed your arm again and dragged you to the bathroom sinks, sitting on the counter and placing you on his lap with your back to him.

“Since you’re dressed like a cowgirl whore, act like one.” He undid your belt and pulled down your shorts along with your panties and pressed his mouth against the side of your neck. “All this time, watching you like this, imagining you riding me until your thighs ached.”

He grabbed your legs and had your feet placed on top of his knees. He moved his hand to your pussy and began to caress your folds.

“God, Ben...”

He kept moving his fingers, teasing your hole before slipping one in.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, cowgirl. But it’s not time to take pleasure, it’s time to fucking give it.” He pulled off the bottom of his suit, his cock springing out, big and wet at the tip. “Now, ride me like it’s your fuckin’ job.”

He helped you up slightly, placing his hands on your ass, helping you down afterwards. Your eyes rolled as you felt his cock enter your pussy, your toes curling in pleasure.

“You like this big cock, cowgirl?” He murmured against your ear before nibbling on your earlobe. “C’mon, get started.” He growled, slapping your clit.

Your hips rocked and you felt more fluid between your legs. The position you were in only caused your insides to stretch further.

You began to move up and down, your hands resting on him to help you.

“Feel so good, Ben.” You let out a sigh.

“I know.” You rolled your eyes at his arrogance, but continued with your movements. “Are you a good cowgirl, babe? Can you ride a good, big horse like me?”

His gaze was locked on the globes of your ass, one hand squeezing your flesh. Your juices were running down his cock and you began to feel your orgasm approaching, leading you to move faster on him.

You heard a countdown in the distance.

“Fuck, it’s almost Christmas and I’ve got a cowgirl on me.” He slapped your ass and you gasped.

“Y-you’re so filthy... I’d rather you kept your mouth shut.”

“Oh, yeah?” He held your jaw, turning your face to look at him. “You love it when I talk dirty to you. And the fact that you’re moving like a sex addict fucking proves it.”

The countdown was at five and you kept your gaze on him. You didn’t even move your gaze or close your eyes when his fingers began to play with your clit roughly. Your legs threatened to close, but due to the position you were in that wasn’t possible. And it was there, the moment the countdown hit zero, that you came. Your insides tightened around him as a wave of pleasure flooded your body and your juices wet Ben’s cock even more. For his part, he brought his mouth to yours and kissed you fiercely as his cum shot out inside you.

“Merry fucking Christmas.” He snorted after a few seconds.

“Same here.” Your breathing was ragged and slowly returning to normal as you rested your head on his shoulder.

“You know what? If I knew this was my Christmas present, I would have wrapped you up and put a fucking bow over your pussy and a cowgirl hat on your head.”

“Oh, God…” You rolled your eyes and lifted your head. “Gross.”

“What? You know you’d love it if I tied you up in Christmas lights like a fucking Christmas tree and spread my cum all over your face.”

“Enough of this dirty talk.” You said as you stood up as best you could and climbed off of him, your legs shaking as soon as your feet hit the ground.

He snorted and stood up, putting his suit back in place as he gave you a look up and down.

“What?” You asked as you noticed his gaze.

“Oh, nothing, I just would love to see you even more in that costume, even with the stain.”

“Well, maybe I will do it for New Years. But only if you’re a good boy.” You pointed at him.

He frowned and slapped your hand, moving closer to you.

“I’ll be a bad man who will give a pretty cowgirl a good beating if she doesn’t do what he says.” He muttered close to your face.

You bit your bottom lip and tilted your head.

“Alright…”

He smirked and slapped your ass before bending down to pull your shorts back into place. You felt Ben’s cum spread across your shorts and you shifted uncomfortably. He stood up straight and patted your cheek.

“Good girl.”

He left a kiss on your cheek which he smacked before exiting the bathroom.

“This costume won't last.” You muttered before rearranging your mind and clothes and exiting the bathroom as well.

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Meeting The Jones - Jack Hughes

strawberry girl masterlist

JACK!HUGHES X AMARA!JAMES — WARNINGS: crying, fluff, unedited, a little bit of angst, arguing — SUMMARY: It’s Christmas and Jack and Amara plan on having a peaceful day by themselves, (plus Esmeralda and Luke). But when their apartment doorbell rings and her parents' faces pop out, Amara knows it will be a long day. — WORD COUNT: 4,6K PART OF STRAWBERRY GIRL AU

Soft purrs sound through the living room along with low sounds coming from the tv, which is playing in the background, while Jack and Amara are cuddled on the couch, giggling and talking to each other, with Esmeralda on Amara’s lap.

“Oh, oh, and do you remember when Luke fell off the boat and popped out with the algae on his head?” both laugh at the memory that happened only a few months ago when they were in Michigan.

“Yeah, that was hilarious.” Jack throws his head back from laughter, his hands resting on Amara’s belly massaging it slightly.

“I remember your mom's face when she saw him.” Amara giggles her hair tickling Jack’s face but he doesn’t care.

The smile on his face only grows as he keeps listening to the angelic giggles and the soft purrs Esmeralda is making. His eyes are traveling between his girlfriend and the cat lying on her lap, his little family—a family he chose and wouldn’t change for anything.

When he’s about to say something, the doorbell rings through their apartment he stops himself and looks down at Amara with a questionable look.

“You expecting someone?” the confusion is written even on Amara’s head as she shakes her head no.

“No, but it could be Nico or someone.” She shrugs and both of them stand up and approach the door, opening it without bothering to ask who it is. As soon as the doors swing open and the seven faces of Amara’s family pop out, she stumbles backward almost dropping Esmeralda down, but Jack steadies her and smiles politely towards the people standing outside the apartment.

“W-what are you doing here?” Amara asks, her voice shaky just like her hands.

“Oh, I raised you better Amara! No ‘Hello! How are you? Please come in.’” her mother tsk, shaking her head as she holds her Louis Vuitton bag on her forearm.

“So will you invite us in or should we stay standing in the hallway?” this time it’s Adela who speaks, causing Jack to cringe at the sound of her voice.

“Yeah sure, come in, take a seat,” Jack says instead of Amara, ushering them inside. “Something to drink?” he asks as soon as he closes the doors and with his hand on Amara’s lower back her motions her deeper inside the apartment.

“Oh my gosh! You still have the cat?” Adela asks with disgust written all over her face as she stares at the fluffy ball on the couch. “Anyway, Liam will be here in a few, the girls wanted some drink or whatever.” Before Adela can shove Esmeralda down the couch, Amara runs to her and picks her up in her arms.

“Something to drink?” Jack asks again, standing behind Amara as he watches her family look around their place with judgment.

“Ah, yes, I’d like a Latte please,” Amara’s mom says a fake smile sitting on her lips. “And I forgot to mention this, but we’ll be staying at yours.” This time a mischievous smile lingers on her lips.

“F-for how long?” Amara asks in shock, stumbling back slightly and hitting Jack’s chest.

“Two days. But don’t worry, Liam and the girls will stay in a nearby hotel,” the first time Amara’s father, Michael, says something. “And I would like a black coffee.”

“And you Adela?” Jack asks her and diverts his eyes from her father to her. She batted her lashes, checking him out before answering.

“Oh, I’d like an iced coffee, but I’ll help you, I need to do it myse—” Amara doesn’t let her finish, her eyes widening in disbelief, as she watches her sister flirt with her boyfriend.

“I can make it, Adela. You are visiting.” Ara smiled at her, convulsively dragging Jack into the kitchen.

As soon as they get inside, she lets out a sigh of relief and starts boiling the water for the coffee. She strolls around the kitchen looking for the perfect glasses for the coffee her family wanted.

“Hey, hey, slow down, Berry,” Jack grabs her arm, stopping her in her tracks. “They can wait, okay.”

“No, no, they can’t,” she sighs, resting her head on his chest and taking a deep breath. “Oh my gosh! I completely forgot to introduce you to them!” She looks at him with horror in her eyes.

“Hey, take a deep breath, baby! I think they already know who I am, but if they don't, then that's okay. Just take a deep breath and let me help you with the drinks, okay?” He takes her face in his hands, kissing the top of her nose, drawing a soft giggle from Amara.

“Thank you.” Amara lets out a sigh and closes her eyes to calm her nerves slightly.

“So how did you two meet?” Spencer asks as soon as Amara and Jack sit down after the second round of drinks, this time for Spencer and his family.

“Through our mutual friend, Nico,” Amara smiles softly at her older brother while she pets Esmeralda sitting on her lap. “You actually know him.”

“Yeah, the Swiss guy! Nice dude.” he nods, looking over at his kids silently playing in the corner of the room.

“Yeah, and what about you? How are you doing in Norway?” Jack asks Spencer’s wife, Anniken, with a smile on his face when he sees how out of place she feels. He rests his hand on Amara’s thigh, noticing the look Adela sends their way.

Spencer smiles softly at his wife when she starts speaking. “Really good. At least from my side,” she giggles, her thick accent noticeable in her voice, but both Amara and Jack find it cute.

“The same goes for me. I made a lot of friends here, and I have a job I really enjoy, so it’s amazing here.” Spencer finishes, kissing the side of his wife's head.

“Just a quick question. Are you planning on staying here for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day?” Amara asks out of place, but she needs to know if she has to go grocery shopping because they have food only for two of them.

“Yeah, I thought it was clear.” her mother says in a ‘duh’ tone, rolling her eyes.

“Okay, I was just asking,” Amara murmurs shaking her head slightly. Jack squeezes her thigh, not wanting her to have a fight with her mom or to be sad. “I will go grocery shopping tomorrow, I’ll take Nico with me because I want you to stay in here with them,” she whispers in his ear and then looks into his eyes pleadingly.

“Yeah, sure baby.” He kisses the side of Amara’s face bringing her closer to him.

“Hi, sorry about this,” Amara says when she enters Nico’s car. It’s seven a.m., and she is on her way to do the grocery shopping.

“Hey, it’s okay. I get it,” He smiles at you as he pulls off. “So how long are they staying?” he asks slowing down at the lights, handing her his phone so she can play their shared playlist.

“Until Christmas Day, " she says with annoyance. It’s not that she doesn’t love her family—she does, well, at least her brother’s family—but she wants a quiet and calm Christmas.

“That long?” he asks in disbelief, his brows almost touching his hairline. “Jesus, good luck with them.”

“Yeah, thank you.” She sighs, resting her head against the seat. “Anyway, I need to buy more food because I had only for me, Jack, and Lu,” she sighs again, opening her notes where she had written the shopping list last night.

“I think if Luke finds out your family is here, he’ll stay at mine. You know he doesn’t like them,” he says, trying to make something funny from the situation, but when Amara looks at him with sadness in her eyes, he instantly regrets it. “I didn’t mean it like that, Ara.” He sighs, mentally slapping himself.

“I know, Ni. I’m just sad that they are as they are.”

“Yeah well, you got to see them only once per year so don’t let them overwhelm you. You have your family here. You know that guys love you.”

“Yeah, I know, and I love them.” she smiles nudging his hand.

“Okay, now tell me where we are going.”

Amara wakes up due to loud sounds coming from the kitchen. She looks next to her, where Jack usually lies when he has a day off, but not today. In her pajamas, she leaves the bedroom, only to be met with the loud voices of her mother and Adela and the sweet smell of something Jack is cooking.

Still sleepy she walks through the living room, not caring about the looks her mother and sister are giving her, and enters the kitchen, her head bumping into something firm but soft.

“Oh babes,” Jack chuckles, wrapping his hands around her as does she. “Still sleeping, right?” he asks pressing soft kisses in her hair making her melt into his embrace.

Tiredly she nods against his chest, breathing in his calming scent. Her arms lock behind Jack's back as she presses tighter against his firm body.

“You want coffee and something for breakfast, Berry?” he asks, his hand rubbing comforting circles on her back because he knows that waking up for her is sometimes hard.

“Please.”  She nods and rasps out.

“Okay, go get yourself ready and when I finish your food I’ll come for you okay? I am just finishing their breakfast and then I’ll politely tell them to go out for a few hours so Luke can come over and help us prepare the food. Okay?” he whispers in her ear, gently unlocking her hands from behind his back.

“Thank you, J.” She kisses his cheek and turns around walking out of the kitchen to their bedroom, but when she’s already inside she hears something that catches her ear.

“No wonder Jack flirts with me when she looks like this.”

Amara closes the door behind herself taking in a deep breath. “Jack loves you. He would never flirt with Adela.” She says to herself trying to believe those words, but this little voice inside her head tells her that she’s naive if she thinks that he would not.

She hates it when her head is against her. The voice inside her should say ‘Girl! You are gorgeous and you know Jack’s head over heels in love with you! He would never!’ but it says the opposite, and she hates it.

She enters the bathroom and looks at her face in the mirror. She cringes at the sight. Her hair is messy, and she has marks from the pillow on her cheeks.

She shakes her head and starts with her morning skin routine.

 “Lu? Can you please hand me the sour cream, please?” she says over her shoulder.

“Yeah sure,” he smiles, opening the fridge and pulling out the sour cream and handing it to her. “You are doing mashed potatoes?”

“Yeah, the cheddar ones. Why? You don’t like them?” she asks in horror as she turns at him with tears forming in her eyes. This is the first Christmas she has together with Jack and Luke, plus her family and she doesn’t want to mess up.

She loves Jack’s family, and she really doesn’t want them to hate her, just because she cooked something her sons don’t eat.

“No, no I love them, really Berry!” Luke says quickly, not wanting his sister-in-law to cry.

“Really?” she looks up at him, from under her lashes, wiping under her eyes.

“We all love them, if Quinn was here, he would eat it all by himself.” He says with a smile, bringing her in a hug. She laughs at his comment snuggling inside his chest.

“Oh, come one Luke! Find your own girlfriend and leave mine.” Jack shouts when he sees his brother hugging his girlfriend.

Luke moves from her with his hands in the air, laughing at his brother’s jealous ass. “Calm down big boy! Just having a brother and sister moment with my sister.”

“Well, I found her first so find yours.” He murmurs as cradles Amara in his arms. She stays there for a while but after a few seconds, she gets out of his embrace and moves to the mashed potatoes she was doing a moment ago.

Right now she doesn’t really wanna be in Jack’s presence after what she heard, but she doesn't want to create tension here, especially on Christmas, so she smiles at him and continues cooking.

“Okay so I am gonna do the Prime Rib, so you Luke, you can make the stuffing, what do you say?” Jack suggests, sending Luke a look that says, ‘don’t you dare’. Luke chuckles and nods his head, all three of them getting into the work.

After about three hours of cooking, they are already done and curled up on their couch. “Lu, I just want you to know that if you don’t want to spend Christmas with us because of my family, Nico said that he will be glad if you come over,” Amara says in a sad tone because she knows he will probably leave when he gets to meet his family.

“No, I wanna spend Christmas with you guys! It is the first Christmas away from home and I’m thrilled to spend it with you!” he looks at his sister-in-law with a wide smile on her lips. “And I am sure your family isn’t that bad.” He smiles at her, really thinking that her family isn’t that bad.

“You don’t know them, buddy.” Jack sighs quietly to Luke and pulls Amara closer to him, kissing her hair.

“So We have this little tradition in our family,” Jack says as you all stand by the table, waiting for the toast. He looks at Luke who is standing right next to him.

“Yeah we all say one word to describe what we are grateful for, so if you wouldn’t mind, doing it?” he cocks his head to the side measuring the people around the table.

The first one to speak is Adela, who throws her hair behind her shoulder, fluttering her lashes at him.

“No, of course, we wouldn’t,” she says in a flirty voice, causing Jack to send her a forced smile. He doesn’t notice the look Amara gives him and his sister as she watches her flirt with him.

“Yeah, I actually like your tradition.” Spencer smiles and Anniken nods in agreement.

“Okay, what do you say Berry?” he asks with a lovesick smile which drops when he sees her looking down on the table.

She quickly whips her head up, giving him a half smile and nodding her head in agreement.

“Okay, I’ll start,” Luke coughs trying to melt the tension between Jack and Amara. “Sister.” She smiles, winking at Amara who blushes at his words.

“Uhm, shop.” Amara’s mother says, earning a giggles from Adela who obviously know what is she talking about.

The room is then filled with words such as ‘love’ ‘family’ ‘Berkin’ and ‘toys’ before the turn is on Amara who looks at Luke and then at Jack finding the right word for what she wants to say.

“Devil’s,” she says, giving Luke and Jack a cheeky smile as she thinks of all the boys on the team, especially Jack, Luke, and Nico.

Luke blows her a kiss and wiggles her brows at her.

“Okay and now the cherry on the top.” Luke points at his brother, as Adela’s giggles fill the room.

“Strawberry.” He says, not listening to Adela's words as his eyes are locked on the pretty girl beside him. Amara raises his head, her eyes sparkling with love as she looks into Jack’s blue ones. She smiles at him and takes his hand in hers, squeezing it tenderly.

“Okay so everyone said what they wanted and now is a time for toast and dinner,” Luke says taking in hand his glass of white wine. Everyone follows as the toast for Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

“Oh Jezz, Lu!” Jack suddenly whines, making Amara flinch, on her seat, because she didn’t expect it. “Sorry, baby.” He apologizes immediately, kissing the top of her hand. “Did you order the present for mom and dad?” he looks at his younger brother with wide eyes.

Luke stops in his tracks, reviewing the last week if he had time to order it or not. “Yeah, yeah, I did! I was on a call with Quinn when I booked it.”

“Thank God.” Jack sighs in relief, stuffing his mouth with mashed potatoes.

“So, Jack, I watched your games, you play amazing!” Adela says in a flirty tone, while her mom smiles at Jack as if she knows what is her daughter trying to do.

“Oh uhm, thank you,” He clears his throat, swallowing the food. “I am just doing my job as best I can just like the other guys on our team. Nothing special,” he shrugs, squirming in his seat uncomfortably. “Actually, Luke here is rocking!” he tries to draw the attention away from himself.

“Oh shut it, Jack.” Luke blushes slightly at his words.

“What! It’s true Lukey! You are rocking it!” Amara smiles at him, sending him a wink. Luke shrugs it off, putting more food on his plate.

“And Jacky, you are defenceman? Or wing? I have a mess in this hockey dictionary.” She giggles and flatters her lashes at him.

Amara rolls her eyes at her sister and tries to swallow the gulp in her throat as she tries to not be jealous, or let her thoughts and the voice in her head win, but it is hard as she watches her sister flirt with her boyfriend, and him, seemingly not noticing it or liking it.

She looks at the other end of the table, where she sees her brother already looking at her with his protective look like he’s about to say something, but she just shakes her head, not wanting to make a scene.

Spencer clenches his jaw and sends triggers through Adela's head.

“I am center, but Lukey here is defenseman.” Jack points at Luke, who is stuffing his mouth with the stuffing.

“Oh, nice,” She nods, with no interest in her voice. “So, what is your job as center?” she asks him again, pursing her lips and checking Jack out.

Just as she says it, Amara abruptly stands up, the chair almost falling on the ground. “Excuse me, I need to freshen up.” She says with her voice croaking in the process. Luke looks at his brother, shaking his head lightly. He noticed it too, but it seems like his brother is oblivious to the fact that Adela is flirting with him.

“Always had to be dramatic.” Her father says, shaking his head. Adela and her mother laugh, nodding their head.

Luke stands up and with an apologetic smile, he leaves the room. He knocks on the door to Amara’s and Jack’s room, opening it, only to see no one in there, so he knocks on the door to the bathroom.

“It’s me, Ara, can you please open the door?”

“I am fine, Lu, go eat, I’ll come in a minute.” She says calmly, but Luke can say, she’s crying.

“Amara!” he sighs in a warning tone. He knows it came out a bit too harsh, but he also knows how to handle her in these situations.

A few seconds later he hears the click of the lock and shuffling in there. He opens the door and immediately pulls Amara in a hug. “Hey, don’t cry!” he whispers in her ear when he hears her sniffing. “You know Jack loves you,” he rubs her back, trying to calm her down. Amara nods in agreement, and sniffs, pulling away from him slightly. “He couldn’t be a minute without you and you know that, sis.”

“But he…she is prettier, and…and nothing like me,” she sniffles, new tears forming in her eyes. “She’s slimmer, she’s prettier, and just has everything I don’t.”

“Hey! Don’t ever talk like this about yourself! You are gorgeous and I bet everything that Jack thinks you are the most gorgeous woman in this whole world, so don’t!” he says harshly, but he means it in a good and Amara knows it.

“I am sorry.” She sighs, wiping under her eyes.

“Come on, sis! Let's get you cleaned! You look like a clown.” He chuckles teasingly, earning giggles from her. “And I thought something was wrong with you being nice to me.” She smacks his chest but moves to the mirror to freshen herself up.

“And I thought there was something wrong with you being all nice to me.” She smacks his chest but moves to the mirror to freshen herself up.

“Is everything okay?” Jack whispers in her ear as she sits down on her seat by the table.

She nods her head, smiling at him a kissing his cheek. “Yeah, everything is fine. Sorry.”

“We’ll talk about this later hm, pretty girl?” his smiles wide and his hand reaches to her face to tug the strand of her hair behind her ear.

— — — — — — — —

“Berry,” Jack says in surprise as he opens his present. “No baby!” he sighs, looking at his girlfriend in awe.

“What? You’ve talking about it for the past few months,” she shrugs, smiling at him teasingly.

“Yeah, but…” he starts but she shushes him.

“No buts, J. You wanted this, so I bought it. Thank you is enough.” She giggles, wiggling her brows at him.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” he whispers between the kisses he gives her. “I love you.” He then pulls away looking down at the new game for their ps5.

“You are welcome.” She smiles, moving his hair from his forehead.

“Don’t want to interrupt this… whatever is happening here,” Adela says and throws her hand in the air. “But I have something for you Jack.” She smiles flirty and hands him her preciously wrapped gift. Amara scoots away, sighing slightly.

“Oh, uhm… Thanks, but I have nothing for you.” Jack takes the gift from her with an awkward smile.

“Oh, that's okay.” She waves it off and sits in the space Amara made when she moved away.

Spencer is watching this whole scene that’s happening in front of his eyes.

His eyes are switching between his two sisters as one is sitting with tears forming in her eyes as she watches the other one flirting with her boyfriend.

Jack opens the present, wincing when he sees, a bracelet with A and J initials on it.

“Isn’t it cute! Now we match!” she shows him his wrist where is the same bracelet.

“Enough!” Amara yells, making everyone look at her with wide eyes. They never heard her yell. Ever. Adela rolls her eyes at her sister's dramaticism and turns back at Jack. “Oh, for fucks sake Adela!” she shouts again, this time walking to her a gripping her arm to move her away from her boyfriend.

“What now, drama queen?” she says annoyed, folding her arms across his chest.

“What now? WHAT NOW!” Amara repeats with sarcasm leaking from it. “I’ll tell you what! I am sick of you, flirting with my boyfriend in front of me!” she spits in her face, tears forming in her eyes. “I know I was never good for you,” this time she looks at her parents. “Since the moment, when doctors said to you that I have ADHD, you started treating me like trash. I got it okay! You wanted a perfect child but guess what! I AM NOT!” her voice cracks as she speaks, causing Jack to wince and stand up, but Amara looks at him and shakes her head. “And you! You are so fed up with your beauty, that you can’t act like normal sister. I know I am nothing like you! I am not slim or don’t have the perfect nails and other things, and it really, really hurts when you keep showing it to me every time you visit,” now Amara is crying, her mascara sliding down her cheeks, as she tries to breathe normally. “Now excuse me.” She whispers and runs inside their bedroom. Everyone sits in the living room in silence, before Adela breaks it.

“So dramatic. I don’t underst—”

“Shut up! Adela!” This time, it is Jack who yells. The vein on his forehead pops out and tears form in his eyes.

“I am so fed up with you! You are the most annoying person I have ever met,” he spits in her face turning to her parents, who are watching him with wide eyes, while Spencer watches him with a proud smile. “And you!” he points at them with venom in his voice. “You don’t deserve her as a daughter. I want the three of you out of my apartment right now! Pack your shits and leave. Luke, kick them out if they are not packed within half an hour,” he says to his brother in a calmer voice and turns to Spencer and his family with an apologetic look. “You are always welcome here, you can stay here and…” Spencer interrupts him with a smile as he pulls him in a hug.

“Thank you, but we will leave too. Go check up on your girl. I am sure she needs you right now.” He pats his back, running to his bedroom.

He knocks on the door and says, “Berry? Can I come in? Please?” he hears, only shuffling coming from the room, so he decides to open the door, and to his surprise, they are open.

His heart drops when he sees his girlfriend’s body shaking from crying on their bed. He closes the door and strolls over to her, immediately pulling her to his lap.

“I am here! Don’t cry please!” he whispers in her ear, squeezing her to him even more. “It breaks my heart seeing you crying.” His voice croaks and tears stream down his face.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t—” she hiccups and sniffles, pulling her face away from Jack’s. “I didn’t want to make a scene.” She swallows hard but relaxes when she feels his hands on her face, wiping the tears away.

“No baby. You had all right to do it. And I am so fucking sorry. I shouldn’t have talked to her at all. I knew she was flirty, but I didn’t want them to make them feel uncomfortable in here,” He whispers, tears sliding down his cheeks. “But maybe that is exactly what I should do. And I am so sorry it made you feel like this! I love you so much! I love everything about you baby!” he says frantically, looking into her eyes, to make sure, she understands what he’s saying.

Amara smiles at him, her hands coming to his cheeks, and this time it is her job to wipe the tears on his cheeks. “I know and I am sorry that I ever doubt that.” She whispers resting her forehead on his.

“It’s okay. I guess I must do a better job in showing you.” He smirks through his tears and slightly tickles her, earning a shriek from her.

Amara lets out a loud sigh when he stops and looks into his blue eyes. “I think I need to say sorry to Spencer and his family. I ruined their Christm—”

“No, you don’t, they understand. And maybe we should stay here for the next twenty minutes. I kinda kicked your family out of here.” He says, chuckling nervously because he doesn’t know how she will react.

“Good,” Amara nods and presses her lips to his in a tender kiss. “Because I would do that if you don’t.” she giggles. Jack just looks at his girl, sitting on his lap and giggling.

[cherie-doll]

Could you do like a scenecore reader that also dyes their hair? and cod men? Like dunno giving them a handmade bracelet I dunno? *pokes my fingers together*

-🪒(Reserving a Anon cause i'll be back!)

hii 🪒 anon!! glad you're reserving! and if anyone else wants to do the same then feel free to do so :D

ミ☆ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Scenecore!Reader x COD Men

★ Price...

sometimes when he comes home he'll find you in the bathroom dying your hair, he loves seeing you do fun stuff with your hair and will even run to buy more box dye incase you run out or you got the wrong color (which happens often)

there's a hc that he was prob a punk or some sort of alternative when he was a teen so he's familiar with you customizing and diying your stuff

he also never thought to be into the scene subculture but he can't help but smile when you leave a handmade kandi bracelet for him, even if it looks a little out of place for him to wear, he doesn't care

he will put that on his wrist and wear it around like he wears his ring

★ Ghost...

it's funny when walking around together in public with the tall intimidating guy who's always wearing a face covering and dark clothing and then there's you, the bright clothes, the dyed and teased hair, arms covered in kandi bracelets looking like a rainbow vomited on you

they should really see your house... his side of the closet is almost the same outfits just different shades of dark colors and your side has possibly every color ever made

still, if people looked close enough they would be able to see the bracelet you made for him that just barely peeks out from underneath the sleeve of his jacket along with some jelly bracelets

people often assume Simon is some former goth dating the scene/scenecore

★ Soap...

you wonder why you ran out of dye so quickly when you need it, you had bought a couple new boxes of hair dye only to find them gone when you needed them, when you see Johnny it all makes sense; he had attempted dying his own hair

according to him he wanted to try wearing your hair extensions first but quickly realized they wouldn't stay in, you can't help but laugh at how his hair turned out, the front looks kinda good it actually surprises you, the back however...

when at a store he's actually the one hyping you up when you find something you could use to incorporate it into your look, he buys whatever for you and loves wearing matching kandi bracelets with you

his whole forearm will be covered in kandi and jelly bracelets he doesn't care he loves it!

★ Gaz...

he knows where you are in a store by the ton of jewelry you wear with charms and beads, or you might accidentally drop a bracelet or lose an earring leaving a trail he can follow to find you

ofc he knows to find you either in a thrift shop, in the jewelry section or where the box dye is at, he's quick to offer to buy anything you might want

he knows how much you love experimenting with your hair, maybe you like adding animal prints in your hair :D

in the car he likes to put your playlist on that will have you both vibing together throughout the entire car trip, poor soul to whoever is travelling with you tho

★ Roach...

loves wearing anything you gift him, especially if you customized it or made it yourself, he wants to feel included, often times when you're touching up on your hair or dying it again he'll sit in the bathroom with you

sometimes it takes a long time dying your hair, especially if you like to do prints on your hair because you're tired of your extensions falling out all the time :(

and the entire time he's sitting there keeping you company looking at you like this :D

he even helps you pick out which color you should do next when you can't decide!

he gets all giddy when you sit down and make kandi bracelets together <3 and then gift him the one you made and he gives you the one he made, so now you're wearing bracelets the other made!

★ Alejandro...

your style was definitely something new to him, due to the great war of emos vs punks in '08 in Mexico he assumed you were what he described a 'colorful emo', until you corrected him

he really likes it actually, he's seen how you manage to coordinate your outfits and even cut, dye and style your own hair, talk about being resourceful!

when your hair is freshly dyed, you'll wash it and go to sleep with it slightly damp, the next morning you wake up to find your pillow stained, it used to scare him real bad when you had it dyed red and he assumed the stain on the pillow was blood

★ Rudy...

he loves learning about what you're into, your interests are now his!!

he's also tried styling you before and he actually managed to do a pretty good job! you asked him how he did it and he mentioned he's seen you coordinate your outfits and so he was able to pick up off that

on his days off, he loves spending them with you and taking you to all the stores that have deals on their bundles so you can get a ton or new hair clips and silly accessories you end up trying on Rudy only to take a 0.5 pic of

and vice versa ^^ he loves taking pics of you in your outfits, in fact, on his phone lock screen he has you with your best outfit yet posing as his wallpaper, just to be smug he likes leaving his phone face up on the table just so that he can see that picture of you when a message lights up his screen

★ Phillip Graves...

won't ever ask you to "tone it down", it's your style and he thinks you should proudly wear it, you look unique and he personally loves it

he will definitely glare at anyone who scoffs or says a rude remark about you, especially if the area you live in is known to be more conservative, he loves seeing the look on people's faces when they see you walk past

sometimes his shadows like to tease him when they notice him wearing the bracelet you made for him, they keep saying it looks like some little kid made it but he quickly states that you made it for him

i can just imagine the whiplash when his playlist goes from his average dad rock/country music to your liked songs invading his phone when on shuffle, he might bop to it tho but won't ever admit it

★ Makarov...

he's told you multiple times he can just take you to get your hair professionally done, there is no need for you to buy cheap box dye for your hair but you like it better this way

this way you can add your own unique and personal touch to it that you love, and no professional hairstylist will be able to do it how you like it, he gives in and stops insisting after you remind him that every time

but he definitely loves your creative diy and style, he just wanted to make sure you weren't staining the bathroom towels with your box dye because you were too shy to ask him to take you to the hair salon but that's not the case :)

and he treasures the bracelets you gift him more than he does the expensive watches and jewelry he buys for himself

★ Keegan...

yk how kandi bracelets can say crazy stuff on them sometimes?

yeah so, the first time he noticed your bracelets and read some of the words you've arranged on there he was flabbergasted to say the least

you put diabolical phrases on his kandi bracelets when you make some for him, and when you put them on for him you make sure the words are upside down so HE doesn't notice it but the person who's in front of him will if they glance at it

it isn't until later when he takes them off that he notices they have sexual phrases, your favorite one for him to wear is one that says "suck me off"

★ König...

it took him a while to understand your texting whenever he peeked at your laptop when you left it open, he didn't really consider himself to be behind on trends until now even if it wasn't anything new but it was to him

he also doesn't know what half the references the words on your kandi bracelets mean either but he rolls with it anyways, you've probably told him before but you ramble on so much that he can only remember a handful of stuff you say

one of his favorite moments of the day are when he arrives home and you're just on your laptop scrolling and vibing to music, you even get up and dance to it inviting him to join you even if he's terrible at it but hey, at least you're having fun together :)

★ Horangi...

he knows how much you love thrifting for new clothes so he likes finding good thrift shops you can go crazy in and then show him the new outfits you put together with them, he also likes surprising you with brand/label clothes and items

you often feel guilty bc you know how expensive those brands can get but he insists on it, he loves you showing your colors and taking you out

he's even dyed his hair colors to match with you! you can't tell me he isn't a little into the alternative side as well, he's definitely expanded his style since he met you

you two even have your matching jewelry for almost every occasion that you've handmade when out on dates, like those places that are for couples to book so they can diy stuff together (if ykyk bc i forgot what they're called)

★ Nikto...

i can just imagine the first time you shuffled up to him and extended your hand to open it and he sees a colorful little bracelet there

he tilted his head, confused what you were offering to him, oh a bracelet? that little thing? it doesn't look like something he'd wear himself but... since you made it he slips it on, good thing the cord is elastic and stretchy therefore he can pull it through his burly, big hand

he shrugs but on the inside he feels his heart beat a little faster, later he forgets to take it off or you slip a bracelet in his duffel bag when he leaves another member will notice the colored kandi bracelet and ask about it

he's not in the slightest bit embarrassed to say it was you, no amount of teasing will make him take it off

[fleuryuns]

presenting a fic by @FLEURYUNS

as the earth burns to the ground,

lay here with me

IN WHICH it takes an asteroid hurdling toward earth for you and jay to be pulled apart, and then brought back together—but it's worth it

PAIRING ⟡ wealthy (ex)bf!jay x scientist!femreader

UNIVERSE ⨯ end of the world au

WARNINGS ⟡ inspired by as the world caves in by matt maltese, exes to lovers, arguments, some platonic!jake thrown in there, ambiguous ending, elements from the movie don't look up, inaccurate portrayal of astrophysics and high school debate clubs

WORD COUNT ⨯ 4.5k

AUTHOR'S NOTE . . . starting again with the first fic i ever posted!!

"It's a silly rumour!" he said, exasperatedly.

You told him, "A rumour?! We've estimated its trajectory, analyzed dozens of possible routes, calculated probabilities... You can't deny the research, Jay!"

It was hard to believe that your relationship had come down to this. Had come down because of this.

You and Jay met during a high school debate tournament. His school had been reigning champions for years, until you joined your school's team and beat them. Jay was both annoyed, but impressed by your quips and arguments. He caught up with you after the match, and the rest is history.

High school sweethearts from rivalling schools, a true Romeo and Juliet reenactment.

The two of you went on to attend the same university in different programs. You—garnering a PhD in mathematics and physics, in order to pursue your lifelong dream of becoming an astrophysicist. Meanwhile, Jay went into marketing to one day take on the family business.

Although pursuing very different paths, you always came together at the end of the day. You'd often stay over at his apartment, large as it was, and watch movies together, cook new recipes he thought you'd like, whatever it is you both wanted to do, as a pair. Soon after graduation, you officially moved in with him.

Of course, you weren't perfect. You argued, you disagreed. There were a few significant arguments that led to you slamming the door on your way out.

But it always came down to how you first met. A good debate, a good argument, happens only when both sides respect each other, and don't let their emotions take on the best of them.

So, after every argument, you or he would call the other to apologize. Or, you'd wake up the next morning with a bouquet of roses with a handwritten note attached to it. Or, instead, you'd walk over to his place in the pouring rain, asking for forgiveness.

What brought you two together, however, eventually became what tore you apart.

During debates, Jay prioritized feelings over facts, in the sense that he would take on logical, everyday thinking to tackle the problem, usually winning over his opponents because they often lacked realism. You, on the other hand, gathered the facts and tackled the issue head on. In that way, you balanced each other out.

In another way, neither of you truly ever saw eye to eye.

You just didn't see it until word of an asteroid heading toward Earth came around.

You were ecstatic to be the one to discover the asteroid. At the time, its trajectory seemed to be close enough to Earth that it would be seen by an average telescope on the night it passes by.

"And my name will be on every article talking about it," you told him, wearing a proud smile.

Jay looked at you sweetly as you went into depth, ways that he certainly didn't understand fully, but he still listened intently because he knew it mattered to you.

Then, with further research, you discovered that you wouldn't even need any equipment to see the asteroid fly by.

"We could make a date out of it," he suggested. "When is it passing Earth?"

You continued to stir the pasta, humming at his words. "In about three months," you clarified.

You yelped when you suddenly felt his arms wrap around you. Leaning your head back comfortably onto his shoulder, you let him give you a short kiss. "Maybe we could invite the gang and set up a get together on the building's roof?"

"Sounds like a plan."

Within weeks, the morning tabloids were filled with new information revealed about the asteroid that you and your team discovered. Threads of information were shared on social media, and your name was attached to it everywhere. You felt a sense of pride whenever you checked your phone in the morning, scrolling through dozens to hundreds of comments congratulating you on your discoveries.

One morning, you woke up to a new headline greeting you:

Asteroid Heading Toward Earth: Here Is How To Prepare.

"Huh," you asked yourself, sitting up on your elbow to scroll through the article. You read some more and discovered there were more calculations done overnight by the rest of the team after you left earlier the night before, calculations proving a change in direction.

It was then that you noticed the seven missed calls from your team members. You mentally cursed yourself for being a heavy sleeper.

You quickly called the team leader first, and they barely greeted you before asking you to come to the lab.

"What's the hurry?" Jay asked from the kitchen. You rushed behind him to place a chaste kiss to his cheek, heading to the door to slip on your shoes, with your bag almost falling from your shoulder in the process. "I'm making pancakes."

"Check the tabloids. It's bad."

He frowned. "Yeah, I saw," he said with an unreadable expression. For a situation so serious, his voice seemed to toe the line of mockery too closely. "There's no way it's real, love, don't worry about it."

You stopped in your tracks with your hand still on the handle. "Sorry?"

"Are you serious? An asteroid heading toward Earth?" He raised his eyebrows. "C'mon, we're not in a movie."

"This is serious..." you told him slowly. "Just 'cause it's the first time something like this has happened, doesn't mean it's not real—" You shook your head. "—Look, I have to go. I can tell you about it tonight."

And, sure enough, you spent the day proving the team's theories from the evening. The asteroid was surely coming toward Earth, in approximately nine weeks. At that moment, you weren't able to estimate the true extent of the damage that it would bring, but it would be bad, you knew that well enough.

Jay didn't.

"Don't be ridiculous, Y/N," he said.

You had to take a step back, close your eyes and take a deep breath to make sure you didn't scream. "You don't trust me." The statement was short, but garnered a large reaction.

"Excuse me?"

"That's what you're saying," you explained. "You don't believe my research. I can show you my notes, I can call the team leader for confirmation. Yet, you don't believe me."

He scoffed at you. Looking around, Jay sputtered out half-finished words, taken aback by your confrontation. "I trust you, Y/N, I just—"

"Just what?!" you interrupt, throwing your hands in frustration.

"Park Enterprises has already disproved it."

You wait for him to continue, but he looks at you as if that was enough explanation.

Out of pure disbelief, you let out a half-breathed laugh. "No, this is ridiculous," you throw his own statement back at him. Classically using his own words to turn the tables.

"My father's team has been tracking that exact same comet you're all after, and their studies show that it won't be coming near Earth, not by ages." It was unbelievable the absolute lack of hesitance in his voice. The confidence, which used to draw you into his arguments, repulsed you. "They have better funds for their research, it's much more developed."

This had you looking around for an audience, waiting to hear the laugh track in the background because his speech was straight out of a comedy. "You rather believe people who are solely in it for the money, people who completely disgrace their PhDs and the professors who taught them. Jay, we've laughed at them together because we both agreed they'd agree the Earth was flat if they were offered a large enough check!"

"Well, at least what they're saying now is much more realistic! Your studies don't even make sense."

"So, the date?" you ask him. "What–What was that about?"

He laughed. Laughed. "Obviously I'd take any excuse to spend time with you, love. Sure, you'd be disappointed that we didn't see anything, but I figured the night itself would've gone so well that it wouldn't have even mattered." He shrugged at the end of the words, clearly thinking that it was a given.

"I need you to leave," you told him slowly. You no longer had the energy to deal with a baseless argument. Surely you could get to him, just not then. "I need to be alone. Please."

And with that, he left.

Only a few text conversations were shared after your argument. Neither of you came forward to settle what had happened, talk it out.

Two months went by. Not seeing each other again, nor speaking in all the time that passed by.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

You look over your notes again, brows furrowed in concentration. Trying not to get distracted by the ticking of the clock, or your desk-neighbour sighing every few minutes, you scramble to find a sheet of paper you surely misplaced—because there's no way, no way that this is all you have. If it is....

Jake leans back in his chair and exhales loudly, and suddenly all hell breaks loose. "No way, no way..." you mumble over and over. "Shit! This can't be happening!"

He looks over at you in concern. You also start to hear the other scientists pushing back their own chairs, some turning around to look at what you're seeing. "Y/N? Everything okay?"

Wordlessly, or rather without any intelligible words shared, you turn your computer screen to his direction and hand him your papers.

Jake studies the notes quietly, looking up every once in a while to analyze the images and graphs from the screen to compare. Your hand instinctively comes up to your chest, trying to settle your heartbeat, if it's even possible. "Is this...." He doesn't finish. He understands.

You nod at him. Tears well up in your eyes.

"We'll send them up to Dr. Lee, and get his team to confirm everything," he eventually responds. His voice is clear, despite his own tears spilling. The other scientists come closer, leaning over Jake's shoulder, all reading until everyone is in the loop of what's going on—what's going to happen. He turns to them too. "In the meantime, we'll all go home. Spend time with your loved ones." It goes without saying that this is the last time everyone will be seeing each other.

Saying goodbye to the members of your research team is bittersweet, you learn.

Despite the pride you feel looking at them, considering everything you've learned and discovered together, it pulls at your heartstrings for it to come down to this. You almost wish you had never pursued this career path, wish you weren't even smart enough to come to these conclusions.

You hug Jake tightly at last. He's the one you've always been closest to, after all. "Thank you," he tells you, your face buried in his shoulder and finally letting the tears fall freely, since everyone else is gone. "For everything."

"You too," is all you say.

You hold onto each other for a few moments more when a pit forms in your stomach. Something different than the gnawing fear of knowing the end is near.

No, this is different.

Regret, you realize. Regret, with a mix of guilt.

You pull away from your coworker, a shaky smile on your lips that can't quite reach your eyes. "I have to go." And despite the ache of never seeing him again, you turn away from Jake for the last time and rush out of the building to your car.

As you're pulling out of the parking lot, soft melodies play from the speakers. You recognize the beat instantly.

My feet are aching and your back is pretty tired;

You resist the urge to pull to a stop and just let your eyes shut as you listen to the familiar tune. It'd be nice, but no. You know you have somewhere to be, and the radio coincidentally playing your—and his—song is only more proof that you need to do this.

And we've drunk a couple bottles, babe, and set our grief aside;

Driving down a road you've been through dozens of times brings up many old memories. You remember the first time Jay brought you to his parents' house, nervously fidgeting with your dress from the passenger's seat. He noticed immediately and placed his hand reassuringly on your thigh, risking taking his eyes off the road for a moment to meet with your eyes and ask silently: "Are you okay?"

You told him you were just fine, and that wasn't a lie.

The papers say it's doomsday, the button has been pressed;

Your phone buzzes from the compartment. Sparing a glance, you notice an alert glaring back at you, probably something along the lines of "Take immediate cover. Do not go outside. Protect yourselves."

The radio cuts out, nearly at the same time. The same announcement rings in your ears, so you swiftly turn down the volume and lean back into your seat.

You look through your blind spot for clear roads, and press the pedal harder.

We're gonna nuke each other up, boys, till old Satan stands impressed;

The nerves that have settled in the pit of your stomach ironically dissipate into a new wave of nostalgia instead as you pull onto the street, seeing the grand Park household in the distance.

Happy memories, although bittersweet, flood your mind, and you realize how grateful you are for having them.

At last, you make it to their driveway, relief washing over you when you see Jay's car parked right in front of yours. Clearly, he hasn't been staying at the apartment with you over the past couple months, so you just assumed he'd been staying at his parents' house during your time apart.

You know him well.

Walking up to the doorstep brings back a tremble to your limbs. You reach out with a shaky hand to the doorbell, ringing it once. Twice. And thrice—Like you always have.

It takes all but a moment for the door to open, when your eyes meet for the first time in forever.

"Y/N..."

And here it is, our final night alive;

It's been so long.

You could never forget what he looked like, not with his face still waking you up every morning on your phone screen. But still, seeing him in person again leaves you stunned.

"Hi." You hate the way your voice shakes on the syllable, but you conceal it with a nervous smile.

He doesn't look angry. If anything, he's surprised. Maybe even happy, if the way the corners of his mouth come up when you greet him says anything.

"Y/N," he repeats, disbelief leaking from his tone. "You're... here."

"I missed you," you say at the same time.

You share a quiet laugh before he steps aside and motions for you to come in. You follow him without hesitation.

Taking in his comfortably familiar scent that filters the air, you instinctively close your eyes when you make your way into the living room. You notice Jay doesn't sit down next to you on the couch immediately, so you awkwardly open one eye in a squint to find him standing across from you, with a small smile on his lips.

"What're you looking at?" you ask him with a teasing lilt.

"What are you doing here?"

"Have you checked the news?" Technically, you haven't either. But you know by now, from the announcement on your phone and the radio, it'll be all over every channel.

You watch Jay frown curiously and turn on the television. You're both welcomed with a pre-recorded video—as stated in the top right corner—of a newscaster anxiously fidgeting with her cue cards.

"—comet found and followed by a local research team associated with the Seoul National University is indeed heading toward Earth at a concerningly rapid rate." She pauses, looking over her notes and taking a breath. You can't imagine how it is to hear this news when you've been falsely led by the media for so long. "Park Entreprises have released a statement confirming their calculations."

You watch the colour drain from Jay's face.

"We have approximately seven hours before the asteroid collides with Earth, and causes severe to irreparable damage to the planet and all living organisms." A tear rolls down her cheek, she can no longer hold character. You notice the clip cut, before coming back, with the woman looking significantly more distraught; red in the face, tears staining her cheeks. "Please, everyone, spend this time with your loved ones. Stay safe. This has been Channel—"

Click. Jay shuts it off.

He stands in silence, staring at the blank screen. You watch him run his hand over his mouth anxiously, resisting the urge to get up and hold him.

"So... What—What does this mean?"

"The asteroid is much larger than we predicted, which means we gravely underestimated its speed." You keep your head down and voice low. You've been in this situation before and although you hate to admit it, you're afraid it won't be any different from the last time. "We thought we had at least another week before it came within radar, and with the size we had believed it was, it would've done damage, but nothing too extreme. We were wrong."

"And now we have roughly, what, seven hours before we..." He doesn't need to finish. You nod.

He runs a hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry."

"What?" You think you misheard him.

Jay makes his way toward you, situating himself comfortably on the couch and turning to take your hands in his own. "I said some pretty messed up things that I no longer stand by. I should've let you talk, and I should've had the decency to listen and, at the very least, try to understand."

It's nice, you discern. Hearing what you've been wanting to hear for months. "Thank you," is all you can think to say because, well, what else is there to say?

"I think I've known that my dad's team was hiding something, or purposefully miscalculating, but I chose to ignore it," he admits. "I was scared. Fuck, I'm still scared."

"Understandably, there's a literal asteroid headed towards Earth!"

You both laugh in agreement.

"I know it's probably way too late to ask you this considering we won't be alive by tomorrow, but can we please spend these last hours together as a couple?"

"Are you asking me to be your girlfriend," you tease. "Again?"

"Yes, Y/N." He rolls his eyes, but he isn't annoyed. You feel your heart pull at its strings when you see the familiar smile spread across his face again, something you haven't seen in a long time. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

"Of course."

You spend the first few hours helping him out in the kitchen. Jay explains that he's been there all day preparing a big meal for the family, as a surprise because they hadn't spent much time together as of late. It's much clearer to him why.

Together, you make a mess of the place. Not much with Jay's help, no. He's always been the better cook of the relationship. Clearly everyone has their specialities. You—in astrophysics and having the balls in the relationship, and him in the kitchen and being utterly stupid sometimes.

"So, is your dad coming over?" You toss a grape into your mouth, sitting on the counter top after giving up on actually helping. "He probably has some kind of vendetta against me, or something. At least I do."

Jay gives you a look.

"What," you draw out exaggeratedly. "We're scientific enemies. It's textbook betrayal."

"No, he won't be," Jay assures you. "I was hoping to make a meal for him and Mom, but one of their messengers told me they were leaving for a business trip tonight. Looks like that isn't gonna end well."

You frown. "I'm sorry..."

He shrugs it off and waves his hand. "No, no, don't be. I think I'd flip at him if I saw him, and I'd rather not spend my last moments in a screaming match with my father." He quickly washes his hands in the sink before wiping them against his apron to dry them off. "Besides, I'm here with you, and that's all that matters."

If you let a smile escape you, that's for no one to know.

The oven makes a ding! which prompts you to hop off the counter, Jay swiftly catching your movement and letting you fall into his arms. You laugh as you notice his dirty hand hovering over your body to not touch your clothes.

"Do you want to help me plate this?"

As expected, the meal is delicious. Even the burnt edges caused by your excess lathering of butter were more than salvageable. It's nothing like a grand meal at a three Michelin star restaurant, but it's damn near close enough.

You furrow your brows as you take another bite—you can't help looking angry when the food tastes good!

Jay notices. "You like it?" he asks, but not genuinely. His smile hints that he already knows.

You simply hum in response.

The rest of the meal passes by in comfortable silence. Comfortable as either of you can be.

There's some tension in the air. A mix of fear, worry, maybe even curiosity.

How else are you meant to feel on your final night alive?

Once both your plates are cleared, Jay's quick to reach and grab the dishes. You follow him to the sink with whatever else he couldn't hold and help him wash them.

You watch him thoroughly scrub at a plate that's already spotless. You don't interrupt him.

In the meantime, you clear the table. Push the chairs. Rearrange the center piece. Even take out the broom and start sweeping the main floor.

You're not sure why. It's not like it really matters. All of this will be whipped out in a few hours.

A shiver runs down your back, and you decide that you're finished cleaning.

"You wanna watch a movie?"

You settle yourselves in his bed once the dishes are done. Jay toys around with the projector before turning back to you, his face twisting in an unserious grimace.

"Oh, right," he says pointedly. "I forgot you only started dating me for my projector."

"What can I say, the richer the man, the more attractive he is." Yet, even if he didn't have a dime to his name, you would still find Jay to be the most handsome man on this dying Earth. "Come here."

Normally, he'd probably tease you for your clinginess. He'd say something along the lines of your hands being covered in glue, or make a dumb joke about magnets.

Today, though, he doesn't hesitate for a second before diving under the covers next to you, wrapping his arm over your shoulders and pulling you even closer.

It feels good, but also makes reality set in.

He feels you let out a shaky breath. "It'll be okay, love," he whispers before placing a long kiss on top of your head.

The opening credits start to roll. You try to take note of all the actors you recognize, try to remember in what movies and series you've seen them in. It calms you down. Then your mind drifts, and you start to worry about what those actors might be doing right now.

Do they know the world is ending in less than four hours? Do they know that no matter where they hide, there's no way to protect themselves?

Jay runs a finger through your hair. Your thoughts hush.

As the camera pans to the main character wiping the back counter at the diner she works at, you look up at your boyfriend. His eyes are fixed on the screen, but you can tell he's not entirely paying attention either.

You shift your position to face him better, still lying comfortably on his arm. "Why didn't you go to culinary school?" The question's been on your mind since he told you about applying for business, but you never had the guts to ask him, already being able to guess the answer.

It's always been known that Jay loves to cook. He's always found experimenting, stepping outside of the box (or the cookbook) to try new things to suit his palette. It was one of the first things you two bonded over when you started dating way back then.

You remember the first time you went to his apartment. Already from the entrance, your senses were filled with the sweet smell of pastries and fresh meat. A combination that wasn't too shabby at all.

He'd been cooking and baking all afternoon, not sure what to focus on because he wasn't familiar with your preferences yet. "Just to be safe," he had specified.

Now, his brows furrowed in thought.

"It wouldn't have worked out," he says finally.

He lightly butts his head into yours. "Doesn't matter now, does it?"

Your eyes drift down from his eyes, to his lips, to the birthmark on his neck, to your hands fidgeting with the blanket. "This is really it," you whisper into the air.

"This really is it," Jay repeats.

To think, you had planned a night with your friends for this exact event. You'd be all gathered on the rooftop, set up on lawn chairs and the terrace sofas, with an abundance of snacks, music from your shared playlist, laughter and cheer filling the air as you all watch the sky, waiting for a star, that isn't really a star, to run through the blankness, just a little brighter than everything else.

And then you would go about your lives.

Heeseung and his girlfriend would celebrate their two year anniversary.

Maybe Jake would finally gain the courage to ask the barista out on a date.

Everyone would say goodbye to Sunghoon again as he'd head off on another skating tour—or whatever the athlete does.

Jay would eventually inherit his father's business. But out of everything, that would probably take the longest. Mr. Park wasn't planning on going anywhere any time soon. Clearly he was hoping so, too.

You.... You're not so sure about yourself.

After discovering one major comet, you'd move onto the next, you supposed.

People don't ever really stop discovering things about the universe. So much of the planet you live on has gone undiscovered, let alone the infinite plane of space and time.

You bite the inside of your cheek at the thought of the millions of things that will forever be left undiscovered, until another species comes to life and starts all the way from the beginning. You realize that maybe that's the point of it all; No one is ever meant to see the end of it.

Maybe it's the moments in between that matter the most.

So, you wrap your arm around Jay's waist a little tighter. You let the voices on the screen fade away as you take in his scent, the movement of his chest as he breathes in and out, and the soft way he strokes your hair.

You tell him I love you without words, hoping he hears it, and fall asleep before you can hear him say, "I love you too."

And as the Earth burns to the ground, it's you that I lie with—It's you I welcome death with.

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

Dress Up Part 5 - Second Preview

A little late Christmas present...another preview! Also a little late acknowledgement of 11 months of Lucifer! Almost a whole damn year with this man and I refuse to get over him! And there is actual smut in this part, yippie!!!!

Warnings: Fingering/oral (MINORS DNI)

Your cheeks were practically burning now. Even after all this time, the incarnation of temptation itself never failed to make you swoon. It felt as though you found yourself crushing on the devil all over again as if you weren't already his beloved wife.

Lucifer's hands remined on the curve of your hips, his golden eyes almost pleading for a response. You knew he would never do anything unless you gave him permission; just one of his amazing qualities. You took a hold of his hand and guided towards your core, leaving  no doubt in his mind. You smiled and nodded, watching his face practically light up. His fingers wasted no time finding that sensitive bundle of nerves between your folds, starting with small rhythmic circles. A sharp gasp fell from your lips as your body fell prey to his ministrations once again. He knew your body like it was his own, all that mattered to him was your pleasure. It wasn't long before you felt two of his blackened digits slip slowly inside you. Effortlessly, Lucifer pumped them in and out of you; he couldn't help but chuckle at your reaction to just being fingered. To him, it was the most adorable thing; he wanted nothing more to bring you pleasure. Especially on a day as special as this. After a minute or two, he withdrew his fingers from you and wrapped his forked tongue around them, licking up every drop of your delicious slick. It drove him wild.

"I adore the way you taste, love," he cooed as you mourned the loss of his fingers, a tiny whimper escaping your throat. "Aww hon, don't guilt trip me like that! Come on, why don't you have a seat?"

Before you could respond, Lucifer swiftly moved your body on top of his, your legs now spread around his eager face. He beamed up at you before trailing kisses up the length of your thighs. Your breath hitched as his lips found your needy clit.

"Gaa-aaahh...Luci..." you managed to choke out as the devil began to lose himself in your taste. Words were useless now, there was no stopping him once he started. Not that you ever wanted him to. Your gripped his soft golden hair with one hand as your other reached for the headboard to steady yourself from his relentless motions. Your mind was beginning to fog again, it was difficult to even form any coherent words. Even in your daze, you managed to turn around and noticed Lucifer's lower half still concealed by the comforter. It didn't seem fair to you that you were getting all of the special treatment while your poor husband was left neglected. Without warning, you removed your hand from the headboard and threw off the sheets to reveal Lucifer's very noticeable erection. A small gasp left Lucifer's lips, but that did nothing to deter him from his actions.

"O-On second th-thought..." you mumbled out, "m-maybe I am a little hungry..."

You raised your hips from Lucifer's face to try and turn around, wanting to give him the same feeling he was giving you. But before you could even move and inch, the man beneath you forced you back down onto his desperate mouth. You yelped in protest, trying and failing to break out of the angelic grip he had on your hips.

"Mm-mmm" he mumbled into your skin, shaking his head.

"L-Lucifer!" you chastised him. "What are you doing? Don't you want-"

"No," he answered softly. "I-I mean, yes! But not right now...stay here..."

You raised your eyebrow. Lucifer was never one to turn down the feeling of your lips on his cock. And he knew how much you loved to bring him to the brink with your tongue alone. "I-I thought I was the birthday girl. I don't think y-you can say no to me, legally speaking."

Lucifer chuckled as he peppered small kisses on your slick folds. "I promise I will give you whatever you want today, no questions asked. Just...later. For now, your pleasure is the only thing I care about." You were about to say something back before he peered up at you with pleading eyes. "Please...Please don't worry about me. I'll be fine!" You sighed but conceded. Lucifer was nothing if not selfless; given that it was your birthday, you shouldn't have expected anything less.

"O-Oh alright," you pouted, "but I'm going t-to hold you to that promise!"

"I would expect nothing less from you, my queen," Lucifer grinned. "Now, where was I?"

[cryptid-killjoy]

When Mazzie asked Ellie if she'd planned on staying too Babyface knew it wasn't her plan. They hadn't even spoke about it. Still, put on the spot he knew it was his plan all along. He knew from the moment he stepped foot on the boat. He'd known long before that if he ever got the chance to step foot here again and get a do over what he'd do different.

This was it. He'd stay. He wouldn't have run away from Mazzie when she needed him the most. Hindsight made him realize that was biggest mistake.

So, he clenched every muscle as he waited for Ellie's answer. She was laughing and so did Mazzie, but it felt like a goodbye to Babyface. He smiled through it even though it wasn't a no. It was clever wording even a not so clever boy could manage to pick up on. It scared him.

The timer scared him. Her indecision scared him because of that clock. Come some time tonight the island would start it's feed and turning real people into donkeys. He needed the island to accept them or their time, Ellie's time would run out. Not just that but despite being wholly committed to staying, in his mind, it wasn't permanent. When the Foulfellows used to work the island they still left it all the time. Babyface figured he could work on the details of how to leave it later. What mattered is he was staying.

Mazzie laughed. "We skate all over." It seemed to diffuse her though. She was realizing herself what both of them were saying. The one she had been so angry with was the one pleading to stay, completely willing, and the one she was okay with was the one hedging. It gave off the feeling that they had no plans of ambushing her and trying to take her off the island. It made Mazzie have to slow down and think. She gave her memories a once over. It was hard not to be sentimental when these were the only real life friends she'd ever had. Everything Ellie was talking about was reminding her of the old days. No matter how many hard feelings she had, she had just many good or more.

Even all Babyface's questioning made her believe on some level he must have cared more than she realized. So, she looked at him real serious because she knew something he didn't. She was hesitant to say it.

"You'd care for the island like me?"

"Yeah. That's the point. The whole point."

"You're sure. Donkeys and all? You remember how it works?"

"Yeah-yeah. I know. I know. I don't care about all that. I can handle it."

"So, you'd forgive the island for everything."

"Yeah-yeah Alls forgiven. It's all good. Whatever."

"No matter what? You're sure?"

"Yeah. I said yeah. We're crew. Remember?" Babyface sounded frustrated by this point she was dragging it out so much.

"UGH. I'll see what I can do. Come on. Let's go find Jax at the control room." Then she went in for a hug finally giving the warmer reception Babyface wished for.

"And don't ever make me have to forgive you again. Ever. I hated missing you guys."

All the island boys were giving them side eyes but slowly backing away from area where they'd once looked like they were ready to pounce if Mazzie felt threatened. Babyface figured this was a good sign. He finally figured out the pace of the boys was the chaos of island's emotions. At least sort of. He was hoping if they were backing down that meant they were okay with him staying and he wouldn't be turned into a donkey like the offer years ago.

When she finally let go she punched Babyface twice quick with two fast jabs in the arm.

"Hey! What was that for?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen you in so long. I just feel like I owed you some."

She'd start to talk more like a regular conversational Mazzie as they followed her to the control room.

"I have to admit, a part of me thought you two were goners already. Over time I started to assume everyone I knew was gone. We don't have any boats left. We stopped trying to leave. We had the paddle boats and the water zombies would pull them down. Flip them. People would drown trying to leave the mainland dancing unable to swim. The magic didn't dance on the island. We'd never make it back to the mainland if we tried. We decided it was just best to hunker down and live it out here. We could survive. There's been a few to make it but the island either rejected them, got the donkey treatment in the end, or even the few I managed to save succumbed to the zombies eventually. All but one."

He looked over at Ellie with a bit of surprise. He never saw Mazzie as some sort of hero trying to save people on the island even if it ended up a failure.

"Sucks you found some you liked and lost them then I guess."

Mazzie glanced up, "Yeah, they were Beagles."

His feet stopped. "What?"

It wasn't like Babyface didn't already know. He'd been trying to mourn, but no bodies meant he could keep a glimmer of pretend hope. His heart started to pound.

"That's the boat that made it over. They'd been spying on us. You and us. All of us. Trying to figure out what you were doing all the time. It's how they knew. I got the island to let me keep them. Your family was the only people they let me keep. Anyone else that ever happened on the island got the donkey treatment. Sadly, I'm sorry, like I said, the zombies just over ran the place. We're finally getting it weeded down and protected. We have barriers up. But, they're still here."

Babyface was stunned. Fuck those details. "Who Mazzie? Who? Who was here?"

"Oh, Big Time, the zombies came out of nowhere that day. There was nothing we could do. We weren't fast enough. Bouncer, spinning tea cup accident. Not quite sure what happened there. It was going too fast. He got real pukey and dizzy after. Then zombies. He's so big and strong and he couldn't have protected himself if he tried. Not right then."

Babyface looked like he might puke himself. Putting images to his family's vague MIAness to actual faces of death was a reality check. He put a hand on his stomach as he asked, "Wait. Stop. Didn't you say earlier that you had a survivor? You mean of my family?"

"Mhm."

"Well who already? Who?"

Like a movie cue she waved to the control house. "See for yourself."

Babyface Beagle looked over at Ellie and then looked up following Mazzie's arm pointing in the distance.

There was Jax's curly hair sitting on the porch with all the carnival lights behind them talking to a god damn ginger.

Of all Beagles to survive. Mother fucking Bebop was sitting on the stoop with Jax.

Fuck the coachman right now, Ellie just let out the biggest sigh of relief that Jax was okay, her head leaning back as she let it out, running her fingers through her hair. “Thank fuck for that,” She said, thinking of the curly-haired guy whose homework she had helped out with while he was a donkey, of the guy that always seemed to bring a smile to her face, of the one that she disguised as a girl so that he could sleep over at their house. “You have no idea how much we thought of you two. Seriously. Shit went down and -” Another deep breath, shaking their head. Even with zombies here, and the bad boys, she felt alright for the first time since setting foot on the island.

Honest John and Gideon - she didn’t really care about those two right now. It always seemed clear that it was Maz in charge, not those two. So to Babyface’s disappoint, she wouldn’t try to get any clarity on that.

Yeah, of course there was disappointment in Babyface. Ellie had been expecting that. That they weren’t going to get the warmest welcome in the world, considering that Babyface had literally gone and popped the Magic Man. And she knew that Babyface wasn’t going to go apologizing for it either.

Her face definitely reflected the shock at what he was doing instead. That was not expected. That was not what they had talked about. True, they didn’t actually talk about what to do with their future, but it always had seemed so open. Like they could do anything. They had no attachments anymore, nothing keeping them down. Ellie had the Laveaus and Aunt Elsa but distance didn’t seem to come between them, she could go anywhere. Babyface had his mom in prison, and she supposed now Black Arts Beagle but it was hard to trust the smooth-talker. He was too smooth, like a freshly waxed floor, and she didn’t want to go slipping and sliding.

So much for not making any decisions for Ellie. He might not have spoken for her right then and there, but his decision affected her too, and he had to have known that. He goddamn better have known that.

This was hard. This was conflicting. It felt like two separate armies - the hot and the cold inside of her - were clashing inside of one another and there was no winning.

This was her crew. This was her life. She had the chance to get Maz back in it, and Jax. The two people that she never felt right not having anymore. She woulda died for them, no question. She woulda fought for them too. And here she was, with the opportunity to stay here, in this place that felt like a personal Hell to her, with them.

But then there was the other side. The Hellish side. She never liked the island. She never liked the way that it made her feel. The bad kids, the constant screaming and noise and mayhem, the fact that she couldn’t even use her powers which was something that Babyface would never understand, because he never had them. Being repressed like that - it felt like having a part of her missing.

But there were heavy eyes on her, wanting to make a decision. And a yes or a no was something that she couldn’t give now, not without thinking about it first, not without talking to her trusted people about it.

The weight of the eyes was intimidating. Babyface and Mazzie both. She struggled to come up with filler, something that wasn’t a yes, but also wasn’t a no.

“Put in a skatepark and we’ll talk about it.”

[charliedawn]

Hi! Can I ask for a fic where the slashers have a reader nurse that acts like Kagaya Ubayashiki (from demon slayer) like there calm demeanour and there gentle and fluid manner of speaking.

They can handle criticism and honest about there weakness. The slashers manage to witness how the curse or illness spread to nurse reader each and every day.

The slashers reacting when finding out the real truth of there illness by eavesdropping to there conversation and admitting that they are slowing dying but still wanted to keep working and taking care of them because they care and love the slashers. Nurse reader still keeps working while now being blind and reassuring the slashers they still can handle it.

How would the slashers do now when they found out the truth of there sickness and nurse reader being blind. And nurse reader dies peacefully in there sleep while holding one of the slashers or Norman hand (like trying reassuring or comforting them that they won’t leave or there still here even tho they die) and smile in there sleep. How would there slashers react to nurse reader dying peacefully.

Btw I love your fics there both funny and amazing to read and entertaining I hope your doing well there Author take care 🥰🥰🥰🥰

Bubba noticed the first time you came into his cell and didn’t flinch at his appearance. Let’s be honest here, Bubba is a big guy and everyone who sees his very peculiar mask would at least be a little surprised.

But, you simply sat there—unbothered.

You were calm and even smiled at him. The fact that you were sick didn’t seem to actually matter at first since he didn’t care about you. You were just another nurse…

But then, you weren’t anymore. You started becoming the one who made it possible for his family to visit, who took care of him when he was hurt, who read him and the other slashers stories at night…He started caring because you cared.

And when it was time to say goodbye ? Bubba wasn’t ready. He knelt at your bedside and took your hand between his—crying and shaking as he begged you to stay.

"…My poor little lamb. I can already the black veils of death surrounding you. Slashers can feel Her. Death. And She is holding tight to your heart, dear child."

Hannibal Sr. is very perceptive. He knew from the start, he could smell Her. She was following you around and Hannibal Sr. knew that there was nothing to be done.

You were his favourite nurse. You were the one who gave his children’s gifts to him and who had never once flinched in his presence. He respected you…

When the time came, he took your hand and kissed the back of it.

"…Unfortunate child. Know that whatever time you spent on this Earth, you were good."

When you gave out your final breath, Hannibal Sr. closed his eyes and sighed. Such a shame…

Pennywise was at your door every night. He had tried to heal you—many times. But, his healing powers didn’t work on curses.

Hence, he thought that maybe by standing in front of your door every night, he could spook Death away.

"Not them…Not them..." He repeated over and over—hoping She would hear him. Or that Maturin would save you.

He begged and begged—him who had sworn to never beg for anything ever again—was now begging for your life. A human. A nothing…But if he was to save one person—it would be you.

When he knew there was no other way, he stayed by your side. He didn’t cry, but he held your hand and made jokes all night until he knew there was no laughter left in you. You were gone…

How dared you ? He was death. He was the boogeyman. You had no right to die. He hadn’t allowed it yet.

Michael stayed by your bed side, and you didn’t need your eyes to know that he was worried and didn’t want to leave you—afraid that if he was to close his eyes for even a second…you would disappear forever.

"Michael…It’s okay." You tried to tell him, but he wouldn’t listen to you. He started crying when he felt that death was inevitable and he held your hand in his.

You smiled at him.

"…I am glad…I got to meet you, Michael. You and everyone else."

Michael’s hand tightened around yours and he decided to get the mask off. Letting you see his face, knowing it wouldn’t change anything and then he whispered.

"…I…am…glad…too."

And then, your eyes slowly closed and Michael shivered as he felt your soul depart from your body. He stayed there hours later—holding your hand.

Freddy came the night he knew you were going to die. He wordlessly sat beside you and you felt him. You smiled.

"…Hi, Freddy."

Freddy was uncharacteristically silent. He looked at you and finally whispered.

"It is…tonight, Y/N."

You nodded.

"I know."

Freddy hesitated before taking your hand.

"…Are you scared ?"

You smiled.

"No. Not anymore…Not when I have a friend with me."

Freddy tried not to cry, but he couldn’t help himself. He sighed and replied with a broken voice.

"…I wish you were an asshole like me, ‘cause at least I’d be sure to see you in hell. But…I know this is goodbye and…I guess the only thing I can do is make sure you get the best sleep of your life tonight."

He put his hand on your eyes and you felt yourself fall into a dream…

You smiled.

"…Good night, Freddy."

He smiled back, even though his hand was shaking.

"…Good night, sweetheart."

"Hum…What do you mean you’re dying ?"

Eddie was taken aback at the news. He stared at you in disbelief for a moment before shaking his head.

"You can’t. That’s not…no. Come on. No." He had tears in his eyes as he took your hands in his and begged you to stay.

He had gotten used to you. You were the only one who knew who he really was. He cried next to your bedside and once you had left this world—he kissed the back of your hand.

"See you soon…Y/N."

Norman stayed awake for days-on-end to stay with you as much as possible. He cooked your favourite food, he played your favourite games and read your favourite books. He thought it would help once the time came. But, it didn’t. It was still so painful to watch when he saw how hard it was for you. He had to see you slowly lose your sight and lock yourself up in your room the days before the inevitable moment of death…

Norman *kisses your hand* : "…If I could die instead of you…I wouldn’t even hesitate to give you my life."

You kept working as a nurse for the slashers, providing for them and making sure that everything would run smoothly once you were gone.

[paperyowl]

Quick thought about touch/being touch-starved, and I have no idea where I'm going with this yet.

+++

"You like being held, don't you?" Deacon asked gently, and while Rocker still seemed somewhat unsure if he wanted to relax into Deacon's hold fully, he still muttered a soft, affirming noise.

"Good, Deacon told him. "I like to hold you."

If they hadn't been pressed together as closely as they were, Deacon wouldn't even have noticed the way Rocker shifted subtly. He wouldn't comment on the way that Rocker held his breath for a long moment before finally, finally melting into his arms, body heavy and real on top of Deacon.

He couldn't help but smile, soothing a hand down Rocker's spine in gentle strokes. Rocker wasn't quite purring, but he still seemed somehow like a large cat leeching heat with such pleasure that Deacon had to keep a few teasing remarks locked behind his teeth.

It occurred to Deacon just then that something was weird about the careful way Rocker seemed to tread around intimacy - not sex, but true innocent intimacy like cuddling close, sharing space. He knew how tactile Luca could be, especially when he was single, searching for hugs and friendly touches all the time. But Rocker had been married, he'd had Val. Maybe he was the type to seek this kind of attention more. But still. The hesitance. It was a little odd.

"Don," he prompted gently. "Can I ask you something?"

"Mhm. "

"You and Val still lived together until half a year ago, right?"

Rocker hesitated for a beat. "Yeah. "

"… did she not hug you? "

Deacon could have cursed himself when he felt Rocker tense up again. There was a bit more of a story there, one that Deacon would have never guessed at. He half-feared Rocker would disentangle himself with an excuse and go back to cluttering about the place. What he didn't expect was the way his voice came out small and pleading: "Drop it, please?"

And it made Deacon's heart stutter to hear that tone in Rocker - confident, cocky, ever-joking Rocker - so he just held him more tightly and gave a little noise of confirmation.

But after this moment, Deacon couldn't really help seeing Rocker's reactions to every gentle touch. There was nothing he could do about it, though. Rocker had asked him to leave it alone, and even if Deacon wanted desperately to help, to soothe in Rocker whatever this was, Deacon had no ground to stand on - so this too stayed another one of these things they both didn't address.

(And in his darkest moments, hating so much about himself and his actions, Deacon thought a little cruelly that perhaps their willingness to ignore all these things was the only reason they worked at all.)

[burningcheese-merchant]

I'm stuck on a train for the next 5 hours, so I'm choosing to lash out at @cuppajj specifically by barging in on the Beast Ancients AU again and having my little fan baby Pepper Jack continue with the crushing loneliness and longing for connection wrought by this godforsaken world he's randomly been trapped in, as per the previous installment

"But Merchant, you sort of wanted to do this anyway" yeah, well, the dummy missile strike got moved up. It's early. Gotta make do on that ACME deposit, they don't do refunds

Just gonna call this "The Skeleton in the Closet" because that's sort of who Spice seems to be here and who/what Jack is essentially talking to

"Father?" Pepper Jack called out, a slight ache in his throat from trying to control the volume of his voice. "I'm here."

No answer - none besides the usual hum of the machines that filled his ears as he flew down to the bottom floor of the laboratory, evading the stairs entirely. Fair enough, he supposed.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he said as he approached the container. "Celestial Cheese kept me again. Kept fussing over me like she always does. I had to wait until I knew the hallways were empty to come."

He stopped and stood mere inches from the edge of that hulking monstrosity of steel and glass, staring down at the man trapped within. A frown began to tug at the corners of his lips.

"She..." He paused, looking away. "She doesn't leave me alone often. She's always hovering over me, talking to me... or talking AT me, I guess. I don't really think she listens to me when it's my turn to talk."

Another pause before he shook his head and turned to face his "father" again. "No, that doesn't matter. What matters is... you."

Gone was the frown now - and in its place, a small, tentative smile. "How are you? How have you been?"

He placed his hand on the glass, near Burning Spice's face. Where, at the angle Pepper Jack stood and peered into the strange red liquid, it looked as though his little hand was resting on his cheek. "Did, um... Did you have good dreams while I was gone?"

What did Burning Spice dream of in there, Pepper Jack wondered? What images danced on the insides of his eyelids? What imaginary sounds drummed against the walls of his skull? What thoughts and memories flooded his slumbering mind as he lay still as death inside of his prison?

"I want to say that I did, but... that wouldn't be true." That frown was starting to come back. "I... I never slept much. I always get up when the sun does, no matter when I actually go to sleep. It's why Mother always nags me to go to bed early. But... here, in this place, I can't sleep at all. The harder I try, the wider awake I get. I'm... I'm too scared to sleep here, I think. And then whenever I manage to, I have nightmares. My fears follow me into my head. Into my dreams."

He curled his fingers against the glass, in an attempt at a comforting gesture he knew would go unappreciated. "I hope whatever you see in your dreams isn't as terrible as what I see in mine."

The glass felt cold against his cheek when he laid his head against it - like it always did, whenever he did such a thing. But he did so anyway, pushing past his instinctive disdain for the cold and into what he imagined to be Burning Spice's shoulder.

"I wonder if you'd sleep at all, if it weren't for this," Pepper Jack mused. "My father... Mother always says he's like a light switch at night. Awake one moment, asleep the next. Are you like that, too? Or is that something else Celestial Cheese took away from you?"

Pressing his ear down and listening yielded no sound he could consider a response. Even if he was desperate for just one.

"Maybe... Maybe if you weren't trapped in there, we could sit somewhere and stay awake together. We could talk or play games. We could tell each other stories. You... You must know different ones from my father, right? Because you're different from him, technically? I bet they're really interesting. I'd like it if you told me them."

They had to be better than Celestial Cheese's stories, if nothing else at all. But perhaps his thoughts on the matter were tainted by his hatred of her voice.

"I..." Though he fought against it, a yawn nevertheless rose from his throat and pried his lips open, louder than he'd wanted it to be. "I'm tired. I can't sleep. I actually thought about waiting until tomorrow to see you, but... I didn't want to be alone."

He started to slide downward, still leaning against the container, letting gravity take hold of his body and drag him to the floor. Curling up and letting his head relax against the hunk of metal and surrounded by wires, Pepper Jack sighed.

"I shouldn't be here," he murmured, more to himself than to this strange, sleeping man he found a measure of solace in. "I might get caught. But... I'm so tired..."

Another yawn. His eyelids grew heavier by the second. He wrapped his wings around himself, in a makeshift, lukewarm cocoon.

"Just... Just this once... The sun will wake me. It always does. Doesn't matter when or where. Then I'll... I'll leave before anyone catches me..."

He rose with the sun, and the sun rose with him. For they were forever bound to one another. For he was its warmth and light made manifest, and so it would obey his commands without question. Or so everyone liked to say. So the threads people used to spin all those tall tales about him aimed to convey to the world, in those tapestries and carvings on the palace walls.

The container was uncomfortable. All freezing, flat iron and sharp edges. But it was fine. It was better than the bed Celestial Cheese gave him. For there was someone next to him, and that alone made the entire lavish bedroom he was made to call his own worthless.

As exhaustion overtook him, Pepper Jack's thoughts began to blur. Those two men that shared a name and face and nothing more melted together into one. He imagined the Burning Spice in the prison before him rising and picking him up. Resting Pepper Jack's head on his shoulder. Carrying him to bed, taking slow, measured steps so as not to make him stir. Laying him down ever so gently - would this Burning Spice be terrified to use his real strength near him, like his Burning Spice still was, even if he pretended not to be when asked? - and pulling the blanket over him. Taking care to leave the boy on his stomach, not his back, because he cared enough to remember that he always wanted his wings to be free. Letting his hand linger in his hair. Petting it. That big, strong, warm hand, offered by the big, strong man who let himself be soft around him, keeping him company. Comforting him as he drifted away.

This Burning Spice wouldn't do any of that. But Pepper Jack was too tired to snap out of it and stop pretending.

The nightmares stayed away this time, at least.

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

I have more, but Jack's not the only one who's falling asleep lol. I'll write and post the rest later maybe. Probably. If Cuppa and everyone else is willing to put up with that

Also I'd draw something to accompany this but uhhhhhhhh I'm not sure anyone wants that inflicted upon them lol