#I’m going to see them in November I’m so excited!!

[xxsksxxx]

Almost Heaven

Summary:

Mulder’s attempt to find more exciting cases to investigate while stuck in the bullpen turns into another weekend trip to the forest.

Meanwhile, Scully is faced with a tempting offer that could change both her future and their lives.

This story is complete, and I’m going to post one chapter a day.

AO3 | Back to the Beginning | @today-in-fic

Chapter 11: Almost Heaven

Washington, D.C. Scully’s apartment Sunday, November 29th, 1998, 9:05 pm

Scully raised her arm and checked her watch for what must’ve been the tenth time in the last hour. With a sigh, she got up from the couch and turned the TV off. It was no use anyway. She’d tried reading, she’d tried cleaning, and she’d even gone through her closet, finally putting all the summer clothes in a suitcase and storing them in her basement. The movie she hadn’t been paying any attention to was just the last straw. Nothing made her stop thinking about calling Mulder.

Just call him, she thought, exasperated with herself. You dropped a bomb on him in the car earlier. You might as well call him now instead of waiting for your usual bedtime conversation.

She’d tried all day to not succumb to the temptation to pick up the phone. If she wanted to keep being in Mulder’s life, things needed to change. She’d drive herself crazy if she kept up being caught in the middle between her hopes and reality. He was her best friend, the person she wanted to find truths with and uncover lies. But she had to learn how to accept that what she felt wasn’t the way he thought about her. He needed her in his life as his touchstone—and she wanted him as her romantic partner. And if she didn’t want to end up getting hurt, she needed to get back to treating him like a friend and not like a potential lover.

The thought that they would never be what she had hoped for only a few days ago, pierced her heart, and she swallowed. I’m not a lovesick teenager. I’m going to be alright, she assured herself. They’d been friends for years, and she had loved their relationship. There was no reason why she shouldn’t be able to be just as happy if things went back to the way they had been.

She checked her watch again and shook her head at herself. This was getting ridiculous, she was torturing herself for no reason.

With determent steps, Scully walked towards her phone and carried the portable to her living room window, looking outside. The parked cars lining the street were illuminated by the streetlamps, the wet roofs from the earlier November rain reflecting the light like sparkling stars.

For a second, she thought one of the cars looked like Mulder’s and squinted her eyes, trying to check if she could find her partner. You’re losing your mind, Dana, she thought. Stop seeing him everywhere and just call him already. You’re starting to see ghosts!

With a deep sigh, she pressed speed dial 1 and listened to the phone connect. Mulder picked up after the second ring.

“Hello?” he asked, his voice tense. She had been right, Mulder had probably been agonizing all afternoon about their conversation, and she closed her eyes against the sudden realization that she was the cause of his anguish. I should’ve called him right away, she thought guiltily.

“Mulder, it’s me,” she replied quietly, suddenly as anxious as Mulder, even though she didn’t know why.

“Hey, Scully, everything ok?” he asked immediately, and she kept her tone light.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I know this is not our usual time to call. I hope I’m not interrupting whatever you’re doing?”

“No, no, you’re not interrupting. I was just thinking about the case. You were right. The gunmen couldn’t find anything more on the sighting. It turns out Mr. Murphy is kind of known for having seen—,” he trailed off. “Phenomena.” She could hear the defeat in his voice and wished he was sitting in front of her now so she could touch him. With a shake of her head, she ruthlessly squashed that thought. This was exactly what had gotten her into trouble this weekend. He was her friend. Friends didn’t want to stroke each other’s hair, hug and hold each other, kiss, and touch each other’s bodies. With an internal sigh, she admitted to herself that she had still a long way to go before she was truly going to be in a place where she would be ok with just being Mulder’s friend.

She realized she’d been quiet for a while and focused back on Mulder’s breathing coming through the line.

“I’m sorry, Mulder,” she said seriously. Mulder grunted in acknowledgment, both knowing that there wasn’t much to say about the case anymore.

“So, what have you been up to? Did you have a good rest of the day?” he asked tightly, fishing for any information he could about what she was going to do. She heard a crack through the line and realized that he was eating sunflower seeds.

“Not much, did some chores, did a bit of reading. Pretty uneventful.”

“Did the medical journals have any new interesting mutants?” he joked, and she felt warmth spread through her, happy that he knew her this well.

“Nothing that would be considered an X-File, I’m afraid,” she joked back, feeling the tension slowly dissipate. It was going to be alright, she decided.

The crack of another sunflower seed being snapped open came through the line, and she smiled.

“I made a decision, Mulder,” she said calmly, reminding herself why she had called. “I’m not going to take the job offer.”

Mulder didn’t reply, and she felt the urge to fill the silence with an explanation. “I thought about it and tried to imagine what it would be like. And I realized that I couldn't even imagine it.”

She gripped the phone tighter, feeling her sweaty hand slip on the receiver, uncomfortable to be this open about her feelings. “And I thought about everything we’ve experienced, Mulder. All the things I still want to find, the questions I want answers to.” She took a deep breath and soldiered on. “We’ve got things to get done, Mulder. And I don’t want to do it without you either—not even temporarily,” she finished quietly.

There was a long pause, and finally, she could hear Mulder let out a long breath. “I’m glad, Scully,” he said earnestly, and Scully closed her eyes.

“Well, I’ll let you go then, Mulder,” she breathed, the relief making her nearly dizzy. She waited a moment for his reply, but when it didn’t come, she added a soft ’Good night’ and hung up the phone.

Scully placed the receiver back in its place on the side table and made her way into her bathroom, preparing to get ready for bed. She was exhausted from the emotional roller coaster of the last few days.

Scully was just brushing her teeth and pulling the jar with her nighttime cream from her cabinet, a headband holding her hair back when a soft knock sounded on her front door, and she turned in surprise.

She hardly got unexpected visitors. At least not the ones that knocked, she thought wryly. The only one who ever dropped by this late was—Mulder. Of course. But how could that be? She’d been on the phone with him only ten minutes ago. There was no way he could’ve driven over here in that short amount of time.

She hurried over to the door, and after a brief check through her door viewer, she pulled it open. “Mulder?”

Mulder pushed past her without looking at her, and she closed the door behind him, turning around in surprise. “How did you get here so fast? Did something happen?”

“I was sitting in my car when you called, trying to get up the nerve to come up here,” he explained, starting to pace her living room. She leaned back against the doorjamb, watching him, her brow furrowed.

He suddenly stopped and turned to her, his eyes brimming with emotion. “Why, Scully?” he asked. “I don’t understand. Why did you even have to make a choice?” He pushed his hair back with his fingers and shook his head. “I just don’t get it. You’ve been the one who’s told me that we shouldn’t give up. That we would get the X-Files back if we played our cards right. And Skinner makes one job offer, and you’re doubting everything?” He looked at her with wide, questioning eyes, and she turned her own eyes to the floor.

How could she explain to him that it wasn’t just about that? She did believe they’d get the X-Files back, but she had felt like that was no longer enough. Not anymore. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, struggling for the right words. How could she explain that she had tricked herself into believing she could have it all this weekend—that she had wanted what Dana dreamed of when she was sitting alone on her sofa on lonely Saturday nights? But that was completely on her. How could he have known? “I don’t know, Mulder. I guess—I guess I just felt—like I wanted something else.”

Mulder watched her wordlessly for a moment. “I thought I had made it clear. Back in my hallway a few months ago,” he began, and her eyes flew up to his. “Not just your importance to the X-Files—but also to me. Personally.” His eyes didn’t shy away from hers, and she could see his anguish. “I thought you felt it too.”

Scully’s eyes searched his face for what he was talking about. Of course, she remembered the hallway and everything that nearly happened there. How could she forget? “Felt what too?”

“Oh, come on, Scully. If I remember correctly, you wanted that kiss just as much as I did. Because if you didn’t, let me tell you, you were sure sending mixed signals!” He put his hands on his hips, his body language a clear challenge.

“Yes, Mulder. Yes, I wanted to kiss you. But what does that have to do with this? Why are you here?”

“I just want to understand! How can you even think about walking away from this, from us after everything—after what I told you—” His voice trailed off, and for a moment Scully could see the young boy he must’ve been. His eyes were huge and sad, and despite his confrontational words, she could still hear the vulnerability in his voice.

She took a step forward and placed her hand on his chest, looking up at him. “I wanted that kiss very much, Mulder. But I just don’t understand you sometimes.”

He leaned closer, almost as if he wanted to make sure he wouldn’t miss a word of what she was saying, and that gave her the courage to go on. “Why did you invite me to come along to West Virginia this weekend?”

“Because the gunmen had found Mr. Murphy’s message on an internet site and his memories of the Mothman seemed accurate,” he explained slowly, clearly still not getting where she was going with this.

Scully nodded, her thoughts confirmed. He’d never intended anything personal to happen during the weekend.

Mulder was still watching her, his eyes darting between hers. But he kept silent, so she tried a different route to make him understand. “Mulder, why did you brush me off last night, when I came over to your motel room?” She searched his face, trying to see the truth in his reaction. But Mulder looked utterly confused.

“Brush you off? What do you mean?”

“When I came over to your room, Mulder, when I asked you if you wanted to take a break, spend time together, go out to dinner, maybe go to the movies?” She realized her voice had started to get an edge to it and took a deep breath to calm herself down. This was not Mulder’s fault, she reminded herself. Just because she had thought he’d finally made a move to turn their almost kiss into a getaway weekend with hopefully a real kiss or two, didn’t mean that’s what had been on his mind.

Mulder’s eyes softened, and he brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Because I thought we could maybe spend some time together, looking for that Mothman. Reconnect. Remember how much fun we had when we were investigating these cases? How you’d call me crazy—and then go on a boat with me anyway to find Big Blue?” he smiled sadly. “I wanted to see you smile, and have some fun for a change, instead of all the shit details we’re stuck with every day now.” He placed his palm against the side of her face, his thumb stroking her cheek, almost tenderly. “Remember when we were in that cemetery in Bellefleur, Oregon? Our first case? The way you were shaking from the cold and the rain, your lips were blue. And yet you were so excited,” he smiled affectionately at her. “And your laugh. Despite it all, you laughed like you were the happiest person on the planet.” Mulder shook his head and took a deep breath. “Something changed for me that day, Scully. I knew I never wanted to ever do this alone again—and I wanted to have that this weekend. I didn’t want it to end, keep investigating until we were laughing about this case like we did back then.”

He let his arm drop and took a step back. “I guess that’s why I asked you if you wanted to come along. I just wanted to spend the weekend with you. Make you smile, do something exciting together, and maybe even show you a Mothman.”

Scully snorted, and Mulder laughed, reaching over and taking her hand in his. “That’s what I don’t get. You seemed to look forward to the weekend as much as I did. But then something changed. And it seems to be about—,” he paused, looking at her uncertainly, “not being in the mood for pizza?”

Scully just shook her head, squeezed his hand, and pulled him over to her sofa. They sat down together, never letting go of each other’s hands. “It’s not about pizza, Mulder. I guess we didn’t have such different ideas about the weekend after all. I wanted to spend time with you as well. And that Mothman did sound interesting—at least until it started to rain, and I was freezing—in the wrong clothes,” she explained, and Mulder looked chagrined.

“I should’ve told you that you would need hiking gear, shouldn’t I have?” He grimaced, and Scully nodded but didn’t reply. That wasn’t the point she wanted to make, though. “Why didn’t you want me to touch you?” she asked quietly, and Mulder’s brows drew in confusion.

“Didn’t want you—. Scully, what are you talking about?” He grabbed her other hand as well and pulled her closer, their faces only inches apart. “I don’t understand. And I really, really want to. When did I say I did not want you to touch me?”

“When I wanted to see if you’d gotten hurt. You moved away from me so fast, you’d think I’d burned you.” She bent her head down, ashamed of her neediness. She felt like a child, getting rejected over wanting a hug.

Mulder let go of her hand and put his fingers under her chin, lifting her face back to his. “Scully look at me.” When her eyes met his, she could feel them fill with tears, and she swallowed, trying not to let them spill over. This whole emotional roller coaster of a weekend was catching up with her at that moment. “There is never any time when I would not want you to touch me. Trust me on that,” Mulder said earnestly. “The reason I moved away was because I did hit my head pretty hard in the forest, and I didn’t want you to make me go to a hospital to get checked for a concussion.” He gave her a crooked smile.

Scully stared at him in disbelief. “Mulder—,” she started, but he put his finger against her lips to silence her and then bent his head down. “Scully, would you mind checking my head? I think I hit it pretty hard yesterday,” he said quietly, but his voice trembled slightly.

Scully stared at him until a slow smile broke out over her face. She placed her hand on his shoulder and kneeled next to him on the sofa, tenderly brushing her fingers through his hair, carefully inspecting the bump. She gave the back of his neck a little scratch while she was at it, and he raised his face to her, only inches away. Scully let her hands glide to his face, cradling it between her palms. “Your head seems to be fine, Mulder. Although—,” she whispered, but before she could finish whatever she had meant to say, he leaned in and softly covered her lips with his.

With a moan, she pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. Mulder didn’t waste any time and lifted her off the couch and into his lap. She felt her heart thunder in her ears and straddled his legs, gripping his hair with both of her hands. He moaned into her mouth and pressed her hips closer to his, jerking against her. This was what she had been hoping for all weekend. It’s still the weekend, her mind filled in helpfully, and she ruthlessly squashed the thought down, far too busy trying to get another moan like the one before out of Mulder.

She felt his hand sneaking under her sweater, stroking up her back, and a wave of heat coursed through him. Scully pulled back slightly, trying to catch her breath while Mulder reached out to pull her in for another kiss, but she put her hand against his chest, softly stopping him from moving in again.

“That’s why, Mulder. That’s what I thought I could never have.” She gave him a soft kiss on his upper lip and followed it with a nibble on his lower lip. “I wasn’t sure if I could keep going day after day, knowing that you didn’t feel for me what I feel for you.”

Mulder leaned his forehead against Scully’s. “You’ll never have to wonder about that again, Scully. Not as long as I’m alive.” He leaned in for another kiss, and she could feel his smile against her lips. Before he could deepen the kiss again, she got off of his lap and held out her hand to him. “Why don’t we move this to the bedroom, Mulder? I feel like we’ve done enough talking.”

Mulder didn’t need to be told twice.

[duine-aiteach]

D’fhéach mé ar clár télifís go hálainn anocht! Tá sé documentary ar an amhrán N17 le The Saw Doctors. Aistear An Amhráin is ainm do agus bhí sé ar an RTÉ 1. Is é an clár seo as Gaeilge ach tá subtitles as Béarla freisin.

Is é The Saw Doctors an banna ceol is fearr liom agus is maith liom an amhráin seo! Tá mé i mo chónaí i Londain anois agus, cheap mé ar an líne ‘when the auld fella left me to Shannon, was the last time I travelled that road” ó am go t-am mar, tá sé fíor! Chuaigh mé ar an bóthar sin 33 bliain ina dhiaidh sin nuair a d’fhág mé Éireann. (Agus chuaigh mé suas agus síos an bóthar seo nuair a chuaigh mé go dtí ar ais ar ollscoil gach mí.) Is é an N17 bóthar ó slán agus beannacht.

[mossflower]

how many breakdowns should you have about dropping out before you seriously consider dropping out. asking for a friend teehee

[fairydustedtheory]

-

[yoohyeon]

I just realized that I should make research for what version of the albums I may buy Sunday….cause I will be in that store for hours if I don’t HDJBSBS

[dilemmaontwolegs]

End of the Road || LH44

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x wife!reader Summary: when you and your husband both have a surprise to share you find your plans for the future clashing Warnings: 18+ only, pregnancy, angst, fluff WC: 2.9k F1 Masterlist

30th November 2025

You had waited two long years for this day to come. When Lewis had told you he was extending his contract with Mercedes back in 2023 you had struggled to accept it. You could feel your body clock counting down and wanted nothing more than to start a family with Lewis but refused to have him be a part time father because of his career. You knew he was made to be a father, you had seen it in every interaction with his nieces and nephews as well as his young fans, it was just a matter of finding the right time to retire.

That day had finally come.

You woke with a smile on your face and rolled over in Lewis’ arms to see him watching you, his own smile playing at his lips.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

There was no hiding your excitement as you pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips. Your hands rested on his chest, fingers tracing the tattoos that decorated his skin. “Are you excited, Lew?”

“I am,” he hummed as his large hands ran up your thighs to rest on your hips. “I actually have a surprise.”

Your smile grew and you dipped your head down to kiss him. “Me too.”

Lewis’ phone rang beside the bed and you saw Toto’s name flash up on the screen. With a groan, you climbed off your husband and went to start your morning routine before heading to the race. Soon, you told yourself, soon there would be no more early interruptions from team principles or blacked out SUVs arriving to take you to your next destination.

The paddock was electrifying and the crowds went wild for Lewis when he stepped out onto the grid for his final driver’s parade. You watched on proudly from the balcony above the Mercedes pit space with Roscoe by your side.

“I’m going to miss this,” you said as you bent down and scratched him under his chin. “You’re going to miss this too, or the extra attention at least.”

Roscoe looked up at you with sad eyes as if he could understand exactly what you were saying and you smiled. “But I promise you won’t be lonely. You’ll have some company soon enough.”

“And that is the end of the 2025 season. Sir Lewis Hamilton, the seven time world champion has officially won his long awaited eighth championship! What a career this man has had and he will be sorely missed by the teams and fans alike.”

Your throat was hoarse from all the screaming you had done in support of your husband as he crossed the finish line just ahead of Lando Norris to secure the title that had once been stolen from him. You couldn’t believe that after 18 years in Formula 1 he got to finish on a high. Nico Rosenberg was right to retire after winning his championship because it had been disheartening to watch so many other world champions fall down the rankings before losing their seats. It had been one of Lewis’ fears confessed in the late night conversations you shared on other ends of the world. 

You picked up Roscoe and pulled a custom made shirt over his head before tucking his paws in the armholes and racing down to the pit lane. The Mercedes team made space for you to reach the metal barrier just as Lewis parked his car up one last time. Standing above the halo, he threw his fists up and let the cheers saturate his being for a moment, committing it to memory before he leapt down and kissed the car. A thank you, a farewell? You wouldn’t know.

He spotted you in an instant, flipping his visor up so you could see the tears shimmering in his eyes as he made his way over. His fingers traced the lettering that decorated the car with each step, ‘still I rise’, it was his mantra and his reminder. Those were the same letters inked across his shoulders and you had kissed them that morning before he pulled his shirt on. 

Roscoe barked at his daddy’s approach and you barely kept him in your arms when Lewis reached you, pulling you both into a tight hug. His face was damp with sweat and tears when you kissed him but it didn’t register in your mind.

“I’m so proud of you!” 

“Couldn’t have done it without you, darling.” His grin split his face and you could have stayed in that moment forever, but post race interviews were calling him away. “Remember that surprise?”

You nodded and he winked as he quickly stepped away to take the microphone held out to him, his fingers slipping from yours. Lewis waved to the crowd as he stepped onto the red carpet laid out and the first question had your stomach turning.

Rumours…there had always been rumours running rife around the paddock. There were rumours long before you stepped foot in the F1 world and there would be rumours long after you stepped out. But this rumour was one you hadn’t heard about.

Your ears started thrumming with the rush of blood to your head and you stopped hearing everything after Lewis smiled. You knew that smile. That was the relieved smile after successfully keeping a secret. That was the smile you had seen when he proposed to you, the same smile he had when he flew you to Barbados for your birthday.

“Yes, it’s true,” he said as he blocked one ear from the noise the crowd made. “Things changed, the seat came up unexpectedly and I said yes. I’ll be back here next year with Mercedes.”

Roscoe squirmed in your arms as you tried to take his shirt off and you placed him at your feet before he could hurt himself or you. Your hands scrambled to hold the metal as your chest began to tighten - the plans you had made together crumbling at the news. 

“Roscoe!” 

Your cry somehow caught Lewis’ attention over the deafening atmosphere and he turned to see his furbaby sneak under the barrier and run towards him. Dropping to his knee, still clutching the mic, Lewis greeted his regular sidekick in parc ferme.

“What’s this cute outfit?” Naomi asked with a smile as she knelt down too and read the print on the shirt you hadn’t finished removing. “Big brother?”

“I…I…” Lewis was lost for words as he read the rest and looked your way in shock. “Baby Hamilton?”

A silence spread as the microphone picked up the whisper and echoed it across the entire track. The cameras turned to you and you felt them zooming in on you, capturing the moment that was meant to be full of joy but you felt nothing except betrayal. 

All eyes were on you as you nodded once, closing your eyes to hide the tears that were blurring your vision.

You didn’t hear your husband finish the interview, but you felt the moment he reached you. His presence was something you had always been attuned to and you felt the warmth of his palms before they cradled your cheek, his thumbs brushing away the tears that clung to your lashes.

“Open your eyes for me, beautiful,” he pleaded softly and you took a deep breath before they fluttered open. Pure joy met you on the face of the man who owned your heart, a happiness that came from deep within his soul as he dropped a hand to your abdomen. “We’re having a baby?”

“Can we–can we talk about this after?” you whispered after another sure nod. His brows instantly pulled into a frown but you ignored it as you took his hand and placed it on the rail. “You have a podium to claim, champ.”

He was torn as he ran a hand over this hair that you had spent hours painstakingly braiding for him before leaving Monaco but you eased his unease with a kiss to the corner of his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too, more than anything.”

“But not more than this sport.” His back stiffened as he turned away but it should have been impossible to hear the truth you uttered beneath your breath. 

You waited as a good wife, a patient wife, should, but you wished you were far away from all things Formula 1. You watched your husband take the centre stage and receive the fruits of his labour, the race trophy and the promise of the coveted WDC trophy at the FIA awards in a week's time. You tried to smile as he placed his palm over his chest before pointing at you, knowing that your initials and date of the wedding were forever marked upon the skin he touched. It was a message he sent for you, one of the many ways he communicated his love over the years. 

Somewhere along the way something had been lost in translation.

You paced the private room nervously while Roscoe snored loudly on the couch in the corner. Lewis should have returned to the motorhome already but he had likely been caught up in the crowds all wanting to congratulate him on his win and his impending fatherhood. A lot of the other teams had already left the paddock and the atmosphere was quickly quietening down outside the door.

The knots in your stomach tied tighter at the knock on the door and when you opened it to see Lewis’ security your palms grew sweaty. “Where’s Lew? Is he alright?”

“He’s alright, ma’am, but there’s quite a bit of activity around him so he thought we should get you back to the hotel first.”

It wasn’t the first time that the crowds had grown too large that he wanted to keep you away. Your safety was always his priority. “Okay, but who's with him?”

“FIA security have him covered.”

You nodded and grabbed Roscoe’s leash, clipping it to his collar as he slowly lifted his head and yawned. If you weren’t already stressed you would have laughed when he dropped his head back on his paws and closed his eyes. “Come on, Rosc, I can’t carry you everywhere. Work with me here.”

He seemed to sense the change in you and began to stretch, shaking his coat out before jumping off the couch and sidling up to your feet for a quick pat. “I think we are ready, Dwayne,” you confirmed as you looked around to make sure you hadn’t missed anything.Dwayne opened the door and stepped into formation with the rest of the team around you, sheltering you out of the building and along the busy paths to where the cars were parked. You had never really felt anxious when surrounded by security but it crept in as you saw just how many people were hanging around the Mercedes building. This was more attention than you were used to, this time it was aimed at you - or more accurately the child of a champion that you carried.

You had already showered and changed by the time your husband arrived at the five star hotel you would stay at for one more night. You heard the door beep as a key card was scanned before it opened and you untucked your legs from underneath you as he walked in.

Lewis looked drained as he shucked his jacket off and draped it over the coat rack with a heavy sigh. Your eyes followed him around the room to where he grabbed a chilled bottle of water and cracked it open. His steps were slow and unsure as he walked back, coming to a stop behind the couch. You listened to the quiet thud of the empty bottle being placed on the table before a hand rested either side of your body.

“Hi,” he greeted softly.

You tipped your head back into the cushion to look up at him before rolling your head to the side and kissing the wedding band on his hand. “Hi.”

“It’s been quite the day.”

His lips twitched with a smile at the scoff you made before you reached up to him. He dipped his head until your fingertips found his skin and pulled him the rest of the way down to capture his lips.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered across your lips before pulling back and walking around the couch so he could see you properly, but he didn’t sit with you.

After a moment of watching him pace around the rug, you broke the tense silence. “You said you were going to retire.”

His eyes darted to your stomach as he ran his thumb over his lips, back and forth. “And you said you were going to wait.”

You placed your hand over the non-existent bump and sighed. “For what it is worth, I didn’t plan this - it just happened, but I thought the timing was some goddamn miracle. Until today.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“This changes everything, can’t you see that? I had a part time father who missed the big things because he wasn’t there, Lew, and I don’t want that for my child.” You wiped your eyes before you met his so he could see the hurt you felt. “You should have told me.”

“You should have told me.”

You laughed humorlessly and grabbed a pillow, cuddling it close as if it could hide the truth beneath it and pretend everything was okay. “Guess we both hate surprises.”

His pacing stopped dead in his tracks and he shook his head before he dropped to his knees at your feet and took your hand. “I don’t hate this surprise. Whatever else you think about me aside, I love that we are having a baby. You and me, darling. Our baby, like we always planned.”

“But you’ve made plans without me. What happens next year when you’re gone and I’m at home with a newborn? What if you miss her birth?”

“Her?” he asked as he looked up wide eyed.

“It’s too soon to find out,” you answered quietly. “I just have a feeling.”

He slowly pulled the pillow away from you before smiling as he ran the back of his fingers over your stomach. “I feel her too, strong like her mama.”

Something cracked in your chest as you finally felt the joy you were hoping for all afternoon. You saw the love and devotion he already had for his child, it was right there in his dark brown eyes that shimmered in the light of the chandelier.

“I’m sorry,” you choked, placing your hands over his.

“Me too” he rasped as he took the space beside you and pulled you onto his lap. His arms welcomed you home, offering warmth and security in their embrace while he pressed his lips to your forehead. “I’ll talk to Toto, darling, he’ll understand.”

7th December 2025

Lewis had attached himself to your hip and refused to leave your side until his name was called at the end of the awards. The final and most important trophy had been his goal for the past four years, its elusiveness at last coming to an end.

Pride radiated from you and everyone at the Mercedes table as your husband picked up the WDC trophy and kissed the polished metal.

“There’s so many people I have to thank for giving me the opportunity to win eight of these, but we would be here all night. I’ll stick to the main ones then: my beautiful wife, Y/N, who has been my biggest supporter, especially during those hard years, my not-as-beautiful team principal, Toto, for giving me a really fast car, and to all the engineers who built it. Thank you.”

Lewis looked at his reflection in the trophy and beside you Toto sniffled at what was to come. You reached over to squeeze his hand as Lewis cleared the lump in his throat.

“It’s been one hell of a journey getting here and I have met some very special people along the way, but, the most important one is yet to come and I wouldn’t miss it for the world. That is why I have chosen tonight to be the end of my road with Formula 1 but I will cherish the memories I made along the way as I start a new journey - one likely to be even harder to prepare for.”

“He’s going to be a great father,” Toto whispered as he wiped his eyes.

Your smile was beginning to ache from how long it had been on your face. “I know.”

“So,” Lewis hummed as the murmurs grew over the sudden change of heart he had compared to a week ago, “it is my honour to be the one to announce that Bianca Bustamante will be driving in Mercedes for 2026. Congratulations, Bi, you deserve it.”

Lewis held the trophy up for the flash of the photographers before leaving the stage and weaving his way back to your table. Everyone he passed gave him a standing ovation and Toto rose to meet him too, hugging each other tightly and sharing a few words of thanks before he returned to his seat beside you.

“You’re meant to thank your mum and your dad then move on,” you teased, “not make everyone cry.”

Lewis laughed, placing the trophy on table with the floral centrepieces. “Did Toto cry?”

You leaned into your husband’s side as his arm draped over your chair and you giggled with a nod. “Like a baby.”

Lewis looked at his old boss fondly before sending you a wink. “I guess I’ll just have to get used to that.”

[harrysfolklore]

Can you please, pretty pretty please do another Zendaya one??

fake social media

okay i’m kinda nervous bc this is the first time i post for someone who’s not harry so HI i do social media au blurbs and i hope you like this one i did for tom 🥲 let me know your thoughts and send in requests if you have any !

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

liked by hunterschafer, tomblyth and 5,119,083 others

yourinstagram Thank you so much @vogueitalia for having me 🤍 Interview out tomorrow

view all 36,196 comments

ynfan1 STUNNING

alexademie ❤️⭐️!!!

ynfan2 models should be glad she chose acting as a career

dualipa MOTHER 🤍

ynfan3 i wonder what kind of tea she spilled on the interview

tomblyth ❤️

↳ tomfan1 HELLO?

↳ tomfan2 ariana what are you doing here

liked by ynfan1, tomfan1 and 302,922 others

enews We’re losing our minds over this new Hollywood romance. 🥹 Link in bio to see how YN hard launched their relationship (📸: Getty)

view all 5,027 comments

tomfan1 OMFGGGG

ynfan1 THIS IS GIVING ME LIFE

tomfan2 NOOOO 💔

ynfan2 “my love life has always been private but this time just feels right to let the world know” NO I CANT MY HEART

↳ tomfan3 DYING

liked by rachelzegler, yourinstagram and 502,826 others

tomblyth Sneak peak at our inconspicuous movie about 2 totally chill birdwatchers with no emotional damage whatsoever… 😏

view all 6,065 comments

tomfan1 AHHHHHHHHHHH

ynfan1 this movie is going to be so good

hunterschafer ❤️

tomfan2 THE SLAY OF THE CENTURY

ynfan2 okay now i get yn

yourinstagram Those are my babies 🤍

↳ ynfan3 we love a supportive girlfriend

↳ tomfan3 i’m definitely not jealous

liked by ynfan1, tomfan1 and 6,927 others

tomupdates Tom and YN in Los Angeles today !

view all 509 comments

tomfan1 STOP THIS

ynfan1 WELL

tomfan2 AHHHHHH

ynfan2 people who don’t support this relationship are so lame bc look at them

tomfan3 she visited him on set 👀

liked by hunterschafer, yourinstagram and 511,028 others

tomblyth Come back to the beginning of the games with us @songbirdsandsnakes

view all 6,919 comments

tomfan1 AHHH OMG

ynfan1 what a time to be alive

rachelzegler YES !!!

songbirdsandsnakes We are SO there! ❤️

yourinstagram SUPER PROUD MY LOVE 🤍🤍

↳ ynfan2 AHHHHHH

↳ tomblyth I love you ❤️

↳ tomfan2 I JUST DIED DEAD

liked by tomblyth, sza and 5,287,209 others

yourinstagram Exciting things coming

view all 37,028 comments

ynfan1 SAY SIKE

tomfan1 she’s dating my man i can’t

hunterschafer they’re not ready

↳ ynfan2 SPILL THE BEANS

ynfan3 the way this could literally be anything

tomblyth Gorgeous ❤️

↳ tomfan2 im still in the denial phase btw

FANS VIA TWITTER

//

liked by tomblyth, oliviarodrigo and 6,927,019 others

yourinstagram CAN’T CATCH ME NOW from @songbirdsandsnakes will be out today. The film and the rest of the soundtrack are out November 17th. Thank you to sweet angel @oliviarodrigo for writing this song and letting me sing it, this is so special to me 🤍

view all 76,207 comments

ynfan1 OMFGGGGG

mtv Our skin is clear. Our grades are all A’s. This is exactly what we needed

ynfan2 SINGER YN IS SO ALIVE

tomfan1 OHHHH LORDDDDD

hunterschafer ❤️❤️❤️😭

tomfan2 she 🥹 did this 🥹 for tom 🥹

ynfan3 the things she does for love i guess bc i thought she was allergic to studios

tomblyth So proud of you 🤍

↳ tomfan3 WHAT IF CRY

↳ yourinstagram Wouldn’t have done with without your encouragement 🥺

↳ ynfan4 IM MELTING

liked by hunterschafer, yourinstagram and 639,573 others

tomblyth HG film dump. Just some of the many people I love who breathed life into this movie. @songbirdsandsnakes opens tomorrow 🤍

view all 7,022 comments

tomfan1 CRYING

rachelzegler See you on the big screen 🙌🏻

ynfan1 i can’t wait to see it omg

yourinstagram SUPER PROUD ❤️ I love you !

↳ ynfan2 AHHH SO CUTE

↳ tomfan2 that should be me

tomfan3 i was here before hunger games

liked by tomblyth, alexademie and 6,926,209 others

yourinstagram TBOSBAS is on theaters now and all I can say is that I love every single human being involved in it and I’m so proud of them 🤍 Oh and thank you for all the support for Can’t Catch Me Now, you make me all mushy 🥲

view all 39,026 comments

ynfan1 AWEEEEEE

tomfan1 LOOK AT MY BABY

rachelzegler We love you sweet angel ! Having you on set was a blast❤

↳ ynfan2 MY BABIEEEEES

tomfan2 WE NEED MORE TOM BTS CONTENT

ynfan3 okay can we get a full album now

↳ yourinstagram I only release music for special occasions 🤍

↳ tomfan3 AHHH SHE DID IT FOR TOM

tomblyth Thank you for being my rock and bringing me bagels, I love you honey ❤

↳ tomfan1 OH TO BE CALLED HONEY BY TOM

↳ ynfan1 i'm melting

liked by harryfan1, ynfan1 and 409,299 others

people Our favorite off-screen couple has arrived to the #BalladOfSongbirdsAndSnakes premiere ! Link in our bio for more pictures.

view all 21,065 comments

tomfan1 AHHHHH I CANT

ynfan1 they're matching my heart

tomfan2 THEIR RED CARPET SLASH PREMIERE DEBUT

ynfan2 yn is such a supportive girlfriend tom is so lucky

↳ tomfan3 they're so lucky to have each other 🥺

INTERVIEWS BY TOM AND THE CAST DURING THE PREMIERE

//

liked by tomfan1, ynfan2 and 13,038 others

tomupdates Tom and YN at the TBOSAS premiere ! 🥺

view all 822 comments

tomfan1 AHHHH

ynfan1 i can’t take their cuteness anymore

tomfan2 i’m so damn jealous ngl

ynfan2 WHIPPED

tomfan3 i’m bisexual bc of them

liked by tomblyth, dualipa and 6,028,984 others

yourinstagram Snow lands on top. The man of the hour

view all 78,019 comments

ynfan1 AHHHHH

tomfan1 SO TRUE IT BOY

hunterschafer Love you both 🤍

ynfan2 she’s down horrendousss omg

tomfan2 i get her if tom was my boyfriend i would post pics of him all the time

tomblyth I love you so much ❤️

↳ tomfan3 WHAT IF I CRY

↳ ynfan3 they’re equally down bad

liked by yourinstagram, rachelzegler and 1,002,109 others

tomblyth Dream girl ❤️

view all 21,299 comments

tomfan1 NO WAY

ynfan1 IM CRYING

alexiademie 💘⭐️

ynfan2 ahhh this is what she deserves

tomfan2 tom is such a soft boyfriend i could cry

yourinstagram 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹❤️

↳ ynfan3 they’re endgame i swear

[catherinetheprincessofwales]

“I felt absolutely reassured William and Catherine were in love.” Adapted from Meet Ella by James Middleton

There is a terrific buzz throughout the country because the rumour is spreading that Catherine and William are about to get engaged. Our family know a day or so before it is officially announced in November 2010. Catherine, Pippa and I go out for a walk with Ella and Tilly to our local pub in a village close to Bucklebury.

We sit in a corner, chattering quietly. Catherine whispers the news and says it will become public in the next day or so. Pippa and I want to be visibly excited, but we have to tamp down our emotions so no one suspects a thing.

We make a quiet acknowledgement that we’ll always be there for each other, look out for one another, support each other. No matter how crazy things get.

William has been in our lives for so long and we’ve grown very fond of him. He feels like our older brother and he and Catherine are so clearly a good fit, just right for each other. As we digest the news, I know I haven’t yet experienced the love they feel for each other myself. But I’m hoping one day I will.

On the morning it is going to be announced, Catherine rings to let me know. I walk with Ella in Battersea Park savouring the secret knowledge and feeling a thrill of happiness for them.

I remember tramping for miles that day and returning to our flat via Sloane Square Tube. The first edition of the Evening Standard was piled high.

There on the front page was a picture of Catherine in her blue dress. I tucked a copy under my arm and walked home with a sense that it was all quite surreal.

I thought how lucky William was to be marrying my capable, down-to-earth big sister, and I felt absolutely reassured that they were in love.

It was beautiful to see how he brought out her confidence. She’d blossomed. I knew he’d look after her, and he does to this day.

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ it’s a love story ] t. zegras

pairing : Trevor Zegras x fem!reader

summary : Trevor goes with his girlfriend to Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour when it comes to LA, and he has a surprise in his pocket when “Love Story” is played

warning(s) : none

author’s note : i keep seeing tiktoks of proposals during love story and i couldn’t not write a lil fic featuring the nhl’s resident swiftie so enjoy this probably cliche filled story that i couldn’t resist writing anymore

༺═──────────────═༻

This show has been something she and Trevor have been looking forward to since they both sat on their respective Ticketmaster accounts for almost 24 hours in November. She basically went through war for the general admission tickets she somehow managed to get. It was worth the wait and the hundreds of dollars she spent.

She went all out for her outfit. A short pink dress that is covered in glitter with matching heels pairs well with the pink makeup look that she decided on while she was doing her makeup. Her hair is curled with pink gems scattered throughout her locks. Trevor wasn’t sure how he felt about it but the look as grown on him in the hour or so since he first saw it.

The two of them get to SoFi Stadium at two in the afternoon with multiple water bottles in hand since it’s early August in Los Angeles. She wasn’t going to get there super early but didn’t want to get there super late either.

Of course, she made a bunch of bracelets so she trades with people while waiting in line to get in. The VIPs go in early then they go in about an hour later. She runs as fast as she can to find a good spot on the floor. Trevor is right behind her.

They end up near at the point of the diamond part of the stage but about fifteen rows of people back. It’s still a good spot despite getting to the arena at two instead of six in the morning. She’s very happy with where they end up.

Trevor stands behind her with his arms wrapped around her shoulders while they wait for the show to start. Gayle opens for Taylor Swift and the set lasts about 45 minutes or so. She vibes with the music, but gets so excited when it’s between sets.

Her boyfriend kisses the top of her head and asks close to her ear, “Are you excited? Nervous? Both?”

“So so excited,” she tells him as she looks up at him. Despite the heels, she still has a disadvantage when it comes to height. Trevor is six foot, but she’s five-foot-six with two inch heels on. “Thank you for coming with me. It means a lot to me.”

Trevor smiles and says, “Wouldn’t want to be here with anyone else.” She raises her eyebrows because she knows a handful of people that he would want to come to the Eras Tour with. “Okay, you and Jamie are the only people I’d want to be here with. And maybe Cole but I’m here with you and I’m happy to be here with you.”

She spins in his arms and wraps her arms around his torso. He’s wearing a button up but only half the buttons are actually buttoned. She gets makeup on the exposed part of his chest and feels his cool chain against her cheek until she pulls back.

The clock pops up on the screen and everyone, including her, loses their minds. Trevor lets her go so she can freely dance and sing as the Lover era begins. She gets very into “The Man” since it’s her favorite off of the Lover album.

As soon as the Fearless era begins, she pulls out her phone so she can make sure to get Trevor singing “You Belong With Me” when she plays it after “Fearless”. He tries to block the camera when she puts it on him but she does end up getting Trevor singing the song. She makes a mental note to send it to Jamie and Cole after the show.

“Love Story” plays next and she records Taylor singing it while Trevor drapes his arms around her waist. She sings along to the song.

The song slows for the bridge and she sways in Trevor’s arms. He presses a kiss to her temple as the bridge transitions to the chorus for the last time. She feels him let her go as Taylor sings “Is this in my head? I don’t know what to think”.

Only the crowd around her begins to scream and turn their recording phones toward her as “He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring, and said” is sung. She turns around to find Trevor Zegras on one knee with a box in his hand.

In the box is a diamond ring.

Her hands fly to her mouth as Trevor sings along with Taylor on stage. She immediately begins to nod her head yes to accept the proposal as tears that she didn’t know were in her eyes roll down her cheeks.

Trevor stands up and takes the ring out of the box. He slides it into her left ring finger before she flings her arms around Trevor’s neck. He leans down and presses a deep but quick kiss to her lips. She cups his jaw as she kisses him back.

“I can’t believe you proposed to me during ‘Love Story’,” she comments without pulling back too far. “God, you’re such a romantic.”

He smiles. “You know you were thinking about it when we got tickets,” he replies. “I went out and got the ring the week after you secured the tickets. If I was ever going to propose to you, it was going to be at the Eras Tour.”

She leans up to press one more peck to his lips before she looks at the ring on her hand. It’s simple but it has enough sparkle to it. She never wanted a large diamond on her ring whenever she got engaged and Trevor knew it.

The rest of the show feels like an intense fever dream. It is probably the best day of her life. Well, it’s probably tied with Trevor getting drafted in 2019 but still. It’s one of the most important days of her life.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

yourusername

liked by jamie.drysdale, trevorzegras and 76,892 others

yourusername baby i said ‘yes’ 💍🤍

view all 1,989 comments

colecaufield THIS IS WHY I DIDNT GET INVITED ISNT IT

fan1 lmaooo cole

jamie.drysdale jesus cole

yourusername sorry coley

fan2 TREVOR IS ENGAGED ??? HOLY FUCK

fan3 he’s all grown up 😩

jackhughes the FUCK ???

yourusername hi jack

jamie.drysdale my favorite people. congratulations !! (it’s abt time @ trevor)

yourusername love you jimmy 🫶🏼

trevorzegras thanks for keeping my secret bud

trevorzegras you’re my entire heart. forever 🤍

yourusername and ever 🤍

_quinnhughes congrats !!

anaheimducks Congratulations to the future Mr. and Mrs. Zegras !! 🧡

fan4 mrs. zegras is insane

fan5 alexa play that should be me by justin beiber

fan6 LMAOO 💀💀

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

requests are currently CLOSED !!

wanna be added to the taglist ? fill out this form !

taglist : @fanboysfangirl @dasiysthings @axaslee @dancerbailey3 @goldihocksrocks @love4lando @stony1386 @mangoluver @prettyinsatiable @ivy-34 @bunbunbl0gs @marie7366 @aaliyah40606-blog @naughty-box @memandi @rybabob @this-ass-is-eikonic

[thatsdemko]

who’s the worst of them all? someone tell Santa Claus! - f1 grid

part two | masterlist

warning: not intended for minors + some jokes + fluff/filler part

a/n: hi hi it’s me… I’ve had this written since early November and I’m excited to share!! enjoy!!

DEAR Y/N,

have you been a good girl this year? I heard you’re looking for your stocking stuffed, I think I have just the gift. meet me at midnight for your gift!

Xx

secret Santa

you can’t read this out loud, and most definitely not to the public who will view this video later. whoever was your secret Santa, must’ve heard the rumors of your dry spell. and how pitiful was if that it wasn’t even a rumor, it was the truth.

“oh it’s just a sweet handwritten note.” you chuckle quickly flashing the note to the camera before shoving it back inside the off white envelope.

the presenter presses for more information. she asks what the letter contains and who you think it’s from, and in all honesty, it could be coming from anyone.

all the boys handwriting was not legible. it was like getting a doctors script, it could mean anything, but it was clear this individual took their time to make it perfect.

“I’ll have to find out at the Christmas dinner tonight.” you flash a wink in hopes to cover the beet red look against your cheeks.

“well have fun!”

fun… this was about to be nowhere near fun when it came down to narrowing twenty something guys to be your secret Santa.

—

starting off with Pierre. in his bachelor days, he would’ve sent you something like this, but it was always harmless jokes and he would never take it this far. with kika around his arm, you could cross him off the list of embarrassing yourself in front of.

then there’s his best friend, Charles. he always had a wobbly relationship with women, and seeing he’s alone tonight you cross the room heading his way, “you don’t happen to be my secret Santa?” your hands delicately press against his shoulders, he turns around rather quickly at your touch instantly shaking his head, “no, no, I got Pierre this year. you still don’t know yours?”

shaking your head in response, you eye the room from where you stand. the bar had begun to fill with drivers and team members rather quickly. the air was colder now, but the heat from inside was welcoming to those dressed in bare minimum, like yourself. Charles hand against your lower back was like a radiator, the heat spread through your system faster than the log fire going on, “I’m sure you’ll find him.” Charles promises, “but for now, can I get you a drink?”

“please.”

—

the nights gone smoothly and so far you can cross off valterri, Logan, Kevin, and Nico. you’re questioning yuki, Daniel, Lewis, and lando due to their abilities to dodge the questions.

George outright told you it wasn’t him after hearing you’d spun yourself in circles to find anyone new to question. Logan had confessed to having brought up the idea, but refused to give any further information.

and then there was Carlos.

the man who’d been under your nose this whole evening. with his bow tie crooked, and the clock ticking closer to midnight, you meander your way over to where he stands.

“I’m not who you’re looking for, hermosa.”

“and who am I looking for exactly?”

his eyes flicker from the clock, the television highlighting the Real Madrid game, and back over to you, “I’d never send such a cryptic message.” he maneuvers his body to face yours, “I know how to ask for what I want.”

“and what is it that you want?” you press your body closer in to the smooth wood bar top. your mind is spinning, your heart is hammering it’s way out of your chest, and Carlos is inching closer.

“for you to leave me alone.”

“you’re no fun, sainz.” you pout your bottom lip out and spin on your heels to find your body pressed into lando’s.

“you find him yet?” landos cheeky grin makes him look like a Cheshire Cat. ever since he read the note he’d been eager to place the pin on the man and root for your dry spell to end.

for now, it’s ten minutes to midnight and the place was emptying. the alcohol buzzed around the room and the chatter begun to die, it’s ironic how it was a little bit like your heart: buzzing to find the guy, but ready to die at the sight of him.

“I’m sure it’s all just a prank and I’ll have Logan to blame for it.”

“miss,” the bartenders tap against your shoulder makes you spin away from landos chest, “this is for you.”

DEAR Y/N,

giving up? never thought of you as a quitter.

xx

yours

grinding your teeth together you press the napkin into your palm until the ink smudges. you’re no quitter, but if the man with no balls doesn’t show up soon, you’ll leave here ready to slam your car into someone else’s.

“I’m going to head out, you’ll be okay to walk out alone?”

lando’s worries snap your thoughts from the napkin that’s disintegrating into your hands. his touch is soft against your bare shoulder, making your body two degrees warmer than the room, “I’ll be fine, you go home and have a good Christmas.”

“you too, and if you don’t find him—“

“yes, I know, you’ll key his car.”

rolling your eyes, you playfully shove the Brit off into the cold, leaving you and the cleaning crew in silence.

you never noticed how trashed the bar was. in its glory days, you can tell the red thick carpet and white trim around the bar gave the place a holiday feel. and by the old pictures scattered around the walls, the formula one boys had a riot in this place. people from Michael Schumacher all the way down to young Fernando Alonso, the place seemed to always be the home of f1.

looking down at the disintegrated napkin in your hand, and quickly looking up at the clock, midnight had just struck. if he wasn’t here by 12:01 you were a goner. you hated people who wasted your time, you’d much rather be at home or maybe in lando’s warm McLaren buzzing from the alcohol and the warm leather seats.

turning on your heel, he’d just arrived. he’s shaking the snow off his bulky black jacket, shimmering out of the sleeves. a man comes and retrieves it from his grasp, and in typical fashion, he thanks him.

“you thought I wouldn’t come?”

“I hate when people are late.”

“good thing I’m not late then,” he says with a soft smile approaching where you stand at the bar, with your arms crossed tightly over your chest. he leans forward, inching his mouth over your ear, “I’m right on time.”

a/n: take your guesses on who you think it is!! the big reveal happens Christmas Day!

tags: @oconso @xcicix @imsorare @weasleyswizardwheezes-blog @monzabee @lpab @frreyaa @motorsp0rt @lovelytsunoda @smoothopz z @jaehyunluvcult @iloveyou3000morgan @lunnnix @leclerc13 @goldenalbon

[dreaming-medium]

Thanksgiving With You

Relationship: Lee Minho x reader

Tags: Pure fluff

Summary: Your plans to go home to America for Thanksgiving are uprooted the night before you're supposed to leave. Unable to stand seeing you upset, Minho decides to take matters into his own hands and make sure you get to celebrate no matter what.

------------------------------------------

The TV was on in the shared apartment, all of the boys were laying all over the couches in various comfy positions. Legs tangled up in knots, blankets draped over different laps. 

Living in the same building as one another definitely had its perks, that’s for sure. Even if everyone starts their days in their own apartments, by dinner time, everyone congregates to one. 

Today, you and Minho’s apartment was the lucky winner.

When you answered a roommate ad two years ago, you didn’t know it would come with seven other men on top of that. But, you wouldn’t change anything that’s happened since then.

Felix’s head rests on Hyunjin’s lap while he plays on his phone with Changbin watching over his shoulder. Seungmin takes up two seats while Jeongin sits on the ground next to his legs. Minho is lounging in the corner seat of the couch, Chan on his left, Jisung on his right. 

For the first time, they’re all silent. Each of their conversations were cut short when a news broadcast cut through the movie they were “watching”.

A female news anchor sat behind a desk looking directly into the camera. 

“We interrupt your program with a breaking news report from The National Weather Service. Please be advised that there is extreme adverse weather expected to affect Seoul beginning tomorrow. All airports, roads, and businesses will remain closed starting tomorrow, November 22nd, until further notice.”

Normally, none of the boys would care about a storm. This meant time off from work, time to relax and stay inside while everyone gets some much needed rest but…

“Minho!” your voice calls out into the living room. Your roommate perks up off the couch, tearing his eyes away from the news broadcast. “Can I borrow your neck pillow? I’m going to need it for the flight. Sixteen hours on the plane is going to be killer without it.”

His jaw clenches and he looks around at the other boys on the couch who all have equally flustered expressions. They each stare at one another like deer in headlights. 

“Ah,” he hums and looks around the room. 

Oh, you were so excited to go home for Thanksgiving, how was he going to tell you that the airport is closed due to the incoming storm? Why does he have to be the one to break the news to you? 

The news anchor continues talking about the snowstorm, predicting record levels of snowfall and high speed winds. 

All month, all you could talk about was how much you missed Thanksgiving: the turkey, the parade, the pie, everything. 

He didn’t really understand it.

“Minho?” You ask again when he doesn’t answer. Your figure appears in the doorway into the living room. 

As soon as you stand in front of all of them, their heads snap towards you.

Your eyes widen, obviously startled. “Guys?” You ask, laughing nervously. “Why are you all looking at me like that?”

Felix moves a bit, his mouth opening to say something before the news anchor cuts him off again. 

“Again, we repeat the broadcast:  Please be advised that there is extreme adverse weather expected to affect Seoul beginning tomorrow. All airports, roads, and businesses will remain closed starting tomorrow, November 22nd, until further notice.”

Your mouth drops open and you step further into the room to look at the TV. 

“What?” You say to yourself, your heart dropping to your stomach. Everyone else’s does as well from your devastated tone.

Chan reaches forward with the remote, turning the volume up for you to hear. 

“No, no…” you whisper.

Minho watches you, feeling his own heart break for you. 

“M-Maybe I can book a flight for tonight. The storm starts tomorrow, maybe I can get out at the last minute.” You practically run back to your room, frantically looking for your phone. 

All of the boys stay silent. 

Apple pie this, mashed potatoes that, homemade pineapple … something. Minho couldn’t remember what you had said. You would always talk too fast when you were excited. 

It only got harder for him to understand when you would go into English. 

On top of all of this, you haven’t been back to America since you moved here two years ago. It was going to be your first time home.

You were just so busy when you started your new job that there was never any time to take off. 

And now that you finally could? It’s falling through your fingers. 

“Such a shame…” Hyunjin is the first one to break the silence. His voice carries the same sadness that they all hold on their shoulders. 

Minho keeps looking down the hall where your room is, hoping to try and hear anything— any news of an earlier flight, a phone call, anything. 

Only a few moments pass before Minho gets too antsy to sit still. He stands up from the couch and makes his way down the hallway. 

Your door is cracked open a bit. 

When he gets closer, he hears you on the phone. “N-No, you don’t understand, I was going home for the holidays— Yes… Yes I understand that everyone else is too, b-but I haven’t been home in two years.”

You sound so heartbroken, it’s physically killing him. 

“There are no open seats? ….. the 5:30 flight? That’s in… that’s in ten minutes I live forty minutes away from the airport!”

Minho leans against the wall behind him, your open door to his left. 

“There’s nothing else? … No, I understand. Thank you very much for your time... You as well.”

There’s a long moment of silence and a thump against your mattress. 

Ten more seconds pass before he hears hiccups and sniffles coming from inside your room. That’s when Minho caves in, coming up to your door frame. 

He can never withstand hearing you cry, on the rare occasions that you do.

You look so small curled up on the edge of your bed, your head in your hands. Your suitcase is open on top of your bed with various clothes and toiletries all over the place. 

Your shoulders shake as you sob quietly into your hands. 

A frown pulls at his face. Minho reaches up and knocks gently on the doorframe. 

Your head shoots up in surprise, hands furiously wiping away the tears under your eyes. 

“Oh, hey Minho!” You try to smile, but the tears won’t stop, but you continue wiping them away. “Sorry, um… I don’t think I need your neck pillow after all.”

A sob wracks your chest. 

“Sorry,” you apologize again and wipe the tears some more. 

His frown depends and he walks over to the bed, taking a seat directly next to you. 

“You don’t need to apologize, Y/N.” 

You sniffle and look down at your lap, the sleeves of your sweater coming over your hands. “It’s dumb to be this upset, I know. I was just really looking forward to Thanksgiving, you know?”

His entire side is pressed against yours. His warmth seeps into you in a comforting manner. 

Minho listens to you carefully. He’s never been the best at comforting a crying person, he knows that, but he’s learned that all you ever crave when you’re upset is someone to listen. 

“We have this tradition in my family, god, it’s been so long since I’ve been able to do it,” you sniffle and wipe your eyes. “We wake up around nine, and my sister and I make cinnamon rolls and watch the Macy’s parade from New York while we eat them. Then, while we get ready we watch the National dog show and ugh…” 

He leans back on one of his hands placed behind you on your bed. The cogs in his brain are already turning. 

Cinnamon rolls… Parade…

“God, I really missed my mom’s Pecan Pie.”

“Pecan Pie.” Minho mouths to himself. You don’t see it. 

You sniffle. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he whispers to you, his hand coming up to rub your back gently. 

“It’s alright, there’s always Christmas. The airline said they can move my ticket without me losing money. I guess it’s better to go then.” You hum and wipe the tears off your face again. 

Not knowing what else to say, Minho stays quiet, his hand continuing to rub up and down your spine. 

He knows next to nothing about Thanksgiving; it’s an American holiday. All he knows are the little things he’s seen in movies: turkey, hats with buckles on them, eating until you explode. 

What parade did you say? Macy’s Parade? Okay…

Minho loses track of how long you both sit there, you trying to pull yourself together while he rubs your back. 

His eyes dart around the floor unfocused as he makes a mental checklist in his head. He’s definitely going to need to employ the help of the seven other men in his living room if he hopes to pull this off. 

“Thank you, Minho.” Your voice pulls his attention. He looks over at your face, hand pausing between your shoulder blades. 

Your eyes are red rimmed and cheeks are rosy from all your crying. A sad smile sits on your face that doesn’t meet your eyes. 

“You don’t have to thank me,” he responds, getting a bit flustered under your gaze. 

You move your head to rest on his shoulder, like second nature, his arm wraps around your shoulders and keeps you close. 

Butterflies swirl in his stomach at the contact. Yes, you’re his roommate, but it was in the last six months or so that his heart started seeing you as so much more. 

It all started with you cooking his favorite dinner when you knew he had just had one of the worst days of his life. 

He had texted you around noon complaining about the rough day he was having, you consoled him shortly, and that was that. 

The day had dragged on, getting worse and worse; he opened the door to your shared apartment around midnight to find you moving around the kitchen. 

When he peered over your shoulder and saw his favorite meal, his heart melted. 

“To cure your bad day,” you smiled at him. 

He fell so hard for you, there was no coming back.  

Minho turns his head to rest his chin on the crown of your hair. 

“Well, I have off work; maybe I can take the day to catch up on a project without being bothered to join meetings.” You trail off. 

“Or you could take the day to relax.” He chuckles. 

You pause. “Nah.”

He laughs again and hugs you close. 

“I better unpack everything.” You peel yourself out of his arms. Minho’s body already feels so much colder without you pressed against him. 

“I’ll leave you to it.” Minho stands up from your bed and makes towards the door. 

“Minho,” you grab his attention. He turns back to look at you. 

You’re smiling at him again, but the sparkle is missing from your eyes. 

“Thank you, really.” 

“Of course, Y/N.”

Minho pulls your door closed behind him and makes his way down the hall. He has a mission and a checklist. 

And he needed to get to the grocery store tonight if he wanted to pull it off.

----------------------------------------------

Three quick knocks rap against your door at 9:00 AM sharp on November 23rd. 

With a disgruntled groan, you shift around in bed and pull the blankets up over your shoulder more. 

After a few seconds, the door cracks open slowly, the hinges creaking loudly in the silent morning air. 

A huff-like laugh forced through the invader’s nose. 

Slippers pad against the carpet of your room and the mattress dips down on the side of your bed. 

Gentle, warm fingers push your hair off your forehead. Your eyes squint a bit and you snuggle further into your blanket. 

“Minhooo…” you whine without opening your eyes. “I have the day off, remember? I don’t need to wake up.”

“Ah,” he hums, fingers still carding through your hair. “But the parade is on.”

Your brain is still booting up. All your movements pause, your eyes snap open and you look at the man sitting on the side of your bed. 

He’s in his cooking apron; the blue one you got him for his birthday last year. 

“What?”

That smirk of his spreads over his face, his eyes squint the more he smiles down at you. “The parade is on, Y/N, don’t you want to watch it?”

With wide eyes, you stare at your roommate. “The.. parade? The Macy’s Day Parade?”

He hums with a beautiful, genuine smile. “I didn’t think you wanted to miss it.”

You sit up and kick the blankets off, leaping out of bed and down the hallway. Minho’s laughter follows you. 

Sure enough, playing on your TV, is the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, from New York City. 

“Wha…” you trail off. If it’s 9 AM here… it’s only 7 PM the night before Thanksgiving in New York, how is he…?

Your eyes scan the TV to see the small graphic that displays “2022” in the corner. 

He’s playing a recorded broadcast of last year's parade. A laugh of disbelief bubbles out of your chest and you whirl around to look at your roommate standing in the hallway. 

“Minho!” You squeal. 

“We still have to bake cinnamon rolls, come on.” He waves you to follow him to the kitchen. Your jaw drops and you can only stare at him. 

Minho looks over his shoulder and sees you’re not following him. “Are you coming? I’m not baking them by myself!”

Another snort of disbelief forces its way out. Your one hand reaches over and pinches your arm. 

“No, I’m awake,” you whisper to yourself. 

The sound of the parade announcers talking in their thick New York accent makes you feel right at home. There was a specific sound quality of audio that comes from these events and it brings you right back to the East Coast. 

Minho walks into the kitchen and you follow after him with an extra spring in your step. 

———————————————

“And here comes Snoopy and his good friend Woodstock!”  The TV announcer says happily. 

You take another bite of your cinnamon roll, chewing happily and watching the TV. Doongie  curled up next to you, tail swishing around. 

Minho can’t decide what he wants to watch more: you or the TV. You’re positively beaming, and he hasn’t even told you the best part yet. 

He scratches Soonie’s head absentmindedly.

There’s a couple knocks on the door.

“Come in!” Minho calls out. 

The door creaks open. “Minho, your timer went off. I think you need to baste the turkey.”

Your head whips around to see Felix poking his head into the apartment. He makes eye contact with you and his smile brightens instantly. 

“Hi, Y/N! Happy Thanksgiving!” Felix chirps from the door. 

“Thank you?” 

Minho stands up off the couch, “Thanks, Felix, I’ll be right over.”

“Gotcha, see you soon, Y/N!” Felix closes the door behind him. 

You look up at Minho. “Turkey? You’re making a turkey?”

He stands in front of you and smiles. “I am, you can’t have Thanksgiving dinner without turkey, right?”

“You– Are we..?”

“We are. But not until after the parade, and the dog show, of course. I told everyone to come around 2:00, that works, right?”

You stare up at him, cinnamon roll still in your hand. 

“Y… Yeah, that works.” You truly cannot believe your ears. Are you sure you’re not still sleeping? Do you need to pinch yourself again?

“Good, I’ll be right back.”

Minho moves past you towards the door, scratching your head a few times as he passes by. You make no move to fix your hair after he leaves. 

Slowly, you take another bite of the roll, eyes spacing out watching the parade. 

Inside your chest, you can feel your heart stutter and swell, heat rising to your cheeks and turning your ears red. He’s really doing so much for you, isn’t he?

----------------------------------------------

“Y/N! Come on out, Chan and Jisung are here and Jeongin needs help with the mashed potatoes!” Minho calls down the hall. 

Like a kid on Christmas, you peel down the hall, adjusting the earring you’re wearing. 

You’re in a black turtleneck tucked into a cute light brown pencil skirt with black tights and fuzzy socks. The most typical Thanksgiving outfit. 

Your favorite jewelry adorning your body. 

The four boys turn around and greet you happily. Each of them in their own fuzzy sweaters and comfy pants. 

“Happy Thanksgiving!” They all say to you in unison. 

“Ah, happy Thanksgiving!” You cheer back and wrap Jisung and Chan into a tight hug since they were the closest. “Thank you so much for this!”

Both of them wrap an arm around you with giddy smiles. “It was all Minho’s idea,” says Chan. “If you wanna thank anyone, thank him.”

“Or you could help, instead.” Minho teases from behind the kitchen counter, sliding over a can of cranberry sauce.

“Oh my god!” You squeal and come around to grab it. “Where did you find this? I didn’t think any stores in Korea sold this!”

Minho hums happily and stirs a pot on the stove. “There’s an American store a few blocks away. It’s where I got most of the groceries for today.”

A timer beeps at the same time the door swings open. 

“Hot bird coming through!” Felix calls into the room. “I have a turkey too!”

Everyone gives Felix a pity laugh as briskly walks towards the kitchen and places the cooked turkey onto the counter. The smell that wafts through the house is heavenly. 

Jisung hands you a glass of sangria with a wink. You clink glasses and take a small sip. 

Changbin walks through the door after Felix, holding a stack of about three pies in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. 

“Happy Thanksgiving!” he calls inside as he kicks his shoes off.

Everyone responds with the same greeting. 

 “Minho, where do you want desserts?” 

“Just put them on the side by the main table for now!”

There’s more hustle and bustle next to you while Jisung attempts to use the can opener for the cranberry sauce. 

“Y/N, could you help me? I don’t think I’ve ever made mashed potatoes before…” Jeongin trails off in front of a pot of boiled potatoes. 

You beam at him and skip over to his side. “I absolutely can, it’s a lot easier than you think!”

Chan walks over to the living area with the couches. 

“What do you usually have on the TV at home?” he calls in to you.

You’re dumping all of the potatoes into a mixing bowl while you answer him. “Typically, my dad commandeers the TV and has football playing all day, but I really don’t want to watch old football reruns.”

Jeongin watches over your shoulder as you shake the bowl to settle the potatoes. “Could you grab the butter and milk from the fridge?” You ask him and he nods and walks off.

Seungmin comes in with Hyunjin, both of them holding trays of food.

You greet the two of them happily.

While Jeongin is gathering the ingredients from the fridge, you take a moment to look around at all of the boys in your apartment. 

They must have looked up ‘What to wear to Thanksgiving’; each of them is in a sweater and dress pants. Some of them have turtlenecks underneath the sweater, some don’t, but they all look like the same font as one another. 

“What can I do to help?” Seungmin asks, him and Hyunjin further crowding the kitchen.

“Go set the table with Hyunjin.” Minho points to the long dining room table, shooing them out of the already small space. Plates, napkins, forks, knives, glasses– everything you can think of, is placed on the corner of the table in stacks and piles.

“I’ll help too!” Felix chirps and makes his way over with the two men.

“Y/N!” Changbin calls your attention. Both him and Chan have beer bottles in their hands, bodies facing the TV. The two of them look like dads with the way they’re standing. “What about a Christmas movie? Is that allowed on Thanksgiving?”

Jeongin plops the milk and butter on the counter next to you. 

You call back into the living room. “Yeah, that’s fine! But make it a good one– a classic! Oh! What about Christmas Vacation? That’s my favorite!”

“I’ll find it, don’t worry!” Chan responds. 

Another timer beeps, Minho opens the oven and pulls out a tray full of fresh rolls. Jisung finally wrestles the can of cranberry sauce open. 

Your heart grows three sizes. 

“Ten more minutes on the Pineapple Bake.” Minho says to himself but you hear it.

Your head snaps around so fast it might tumble off your shoulders. “Pineapple Bake? You made Pineapple Bake?”

A flush crawls up Minho’s neck to his ears when he turns and meets your sparkly eyes. 

“You had mentioned it…” he trails off and finds something else on the counter to fidget with.

“How did you get the recipe?”

“Ah, well,” he rubs the back of his neck nervously. “I have your mother’s number from when you first moved in and all.”

“You texted my mom?”

“Is that alright?”

The hustle and bustle of the seven other bodies around your apartment fades into the background. Even with Jeongin standing directly next to you, he seems to disappear. 

“You texted my mom and asked for her Pineapple Bake recipe?” You choke out again, your eyebrows raising, lips parting in an emotionally shocked expression.

Minho visibly gets a bit more nervous at your repeated question. His jaw clenches and he plays with the tie of the apron. “Did I overstep?”

Without any warning, you cross the few steps of the kitchen towards him and throw your arms around your roommate, burying your face into his shoulder. Small tears of joy well in the corners of your eyes, throat constricting with so many emotions.

After a moment of hesitation, Minho wraps his arms around you and rests his cheek on top of your hair. 

“Thank you, Minho,” you whisper to him, squeezing him even tighter. 

Minho’s shoulders visibly react from your hug, relaxing from the tension of the past few moments. 

He smells like the holidays, the softness of his sweater is so comforting against your cheek. You just want to bury your nose in it and drown in the scent.

“This means so much to me.” Your words are so sincere, he could cry from hearing them. His arms tighten around you, eyes closing to relish in your hold.

He basks in it. Despite a third timer screaming in his ear, he continues to hold you like if he let go, you would disappear forever.

Having you in his arms like this has always been the equivalent of drinking warm tea before bed. It sends a wave of comfort and safety through his entire being.

The timer continues to beep.

“You can thank me after you eat.” 

You giggle, any sadness he’s ever felt disappears for a split second.

Hyunjin calls into this kitchen. “Can you please turn that thing off before I go insane?”

Minho sighs, the air blowing into your hair. He keeps you close for a few more heartbeats before letting go.

“It’s time for dinner anyway.”

----------------------------------------------

Everyone was quiet, the TV still playing Christmas movies in the background. The streaming service that Chan had put on had autoplayed movie after movie while you ate dinner and then dessert.

The last surprise Minho had for you was that he also had asked your mother for her Pecan Pie recipe two nights ago. 

Everything about today left you floored and speechless. Your heart has never felt this full in your life. 

All eight of them sat around the table looking uncomfortably full. The table that was once filled with every side dish known to Thanksgiving enjoyers, every dessert you could dream of, was now littered with empty dishes. 

“We should just be thankful for being together. I think that’s what they mean by Thanksgiving, Charlie Brown.” Marcie’s animated voice rings through the apartment.

Again, your throat tightens up with so many happy emotions, you clench your jaw to keep them down.

From directly next to you, Minho must’ve noticed your expression, his hand reaching under the table and resting on your knee, squeezing it once to comfort you.

You look over at him.

His heart catches in his chest.

There’s that sparkle in your eyes. The one that disappeared two nights ago, he got it back. His entire face softens as he stares at you as if you hung the moon and vice versa.

“I need a nap,” Felix groans from his chair.

You hum and look over at him. He’s slumped in his seat, head back, eyes closed. 

“That’s the best part of Thanksgiving, sleeping with a full stomach.” You tell him.

“Full is an understatement.” Jeongin adds.

“I think I found a new favorite holiday…” Changbin trails off.

“Ditto,” adds Chan.

“Yeah? Well maybe we can have a Friendsgiving next year and do it all over again.” You tell the table.

Minho groans. “I’ll need more help next time, then!”

Everyone grunts in agreement.

You reach under the table and take a hold of Minho’s hand still on your leg. Your fingers wind together and you beam at him again with that dazzling smile. 

“I would do anything to do this again.”

----------------------------------------------

“I still can’t believe they took that many leftovers,” Minho mutters, dipping the sponge in the sink.

“I can’t believe we had that many leftovers.” You dry a dish with the towel and place it on the other clean ones. 

The exhaustion from eating is still heavy in your bones; but both you and Minho decided it was better to get all the washing out of the way so that you could just relax for the rest of the night.

It felt like you’ve been washing dishes for hours. 

Soft twinkling of Christmas music plays through the speakers of the TV from the movie. 

“Minho?” You ask suddenly, your voice is a bit weak and unconfident.

He looks over at you with his undivided attention, one eyebrow raised.

“There’s one more Thanksgiving tradition I didn’t tell you about.”

His eyebrows furrow more and he puts the dish down in the sink full of sudsy water. “What is it?”

Smiling, you put the towel down.

“Will you dance to Christmas music with me? To ring in the Holiday Season.”

Minho’s taken aback for a moment, he laughs– almost in disbelief. “Really?”

You bite your lip nervously, nodding once.

With a playful smile, he grabs the towel and dries his hands. “You want to dance? We can dance, Y/N.”

Squealing, you happily skip to the living room. “Alexa, play Christmas music!” You call out and she immediately begins to play music at the perfect volume.

Frank Sinatra’s ‘I’ve Got My Love to Keep Me Warm’ plays through the speaker. The happy saxophones and trumpets blare and your spirits lift even more than you thought they could.

You bounce on your heels to the beat a few times, swaying with the rhythm in a silly way. 

When you turn around, you see Minho stepping towards you to the beat. One of the happiest looks ever on his face. His hair still slightly styled from this morning, just a bit more relaxed as the day went on.

His sweater is so cozy with a black turtleneck underneath, heather gray dress pants on the bottom. Lee Minho looks like the Holidays wrapped up in a warm, cable knit package, and he’s currently dancing towards you.

Once he is up on you, he takes your one hand and places the other on your waist. Both of you look like absolute goof balls, swaying and bobbing to the rhythm of Frank Sinatra in your living room. 

The scent of Thanksgiving dinner still hangs in the air; the warmth from the ovens and stove hasn’t faded one bit.

Minho leads you all around the living room in a beautifully clumsy dance. The smiles on your faces never drop, even for a moment. They only grow with each giggle passed from one to another.

His eyes stay locked with yours the entire time. Nothing could interrupt your moment,

You mouth the lyrics to him; it’s English, so he’s not really able to keep up as much. But the emotion is there. And just the idea that you’re singing to him makes his heart soar. 

“What do I care how much it may storm,” you sing, “I’ve got my love to keep me warm.”

Minho spins you around, you squeal with happiness with your arm above your head. He brings you back in and grabs your waist with both hands, lifting you into the air and twirling more as the music swells. You place both of your hands on his shoulders for balance.

He gently places you back on the ground, the song ending and fading into the next one. 

Michael Buble’s ‘I’ll Be Home For Christmas’ follows it up. The rhythm of the song slows down the energy in the room dramatically.

Neither you nor Minho let go of one another. Instead of backing away, the two of you step even closer. Your arms wind around his neck, his hands interlock on your lower back.

Your eyes look all around his perfect face, meanwhile his stay locked on your eyes. He’s so enchanted by you, it feels like you placed him under some sort of spell.

If he could, Minho would do this entire day over and over again until he died, just to see this beautiful look in your eye each time, to hear your glee filled laughter after each surprise. 

Instead of moving around the room, the two of you simply sway side to side in time with the beat of the song. Minho spins the two of you very slowly in place.

A beautiful, festive, Christmas bubble begins forming around the two of you. 

“I cannot even begin to tell you how much today meant to me, Minho.” You break the silence between the two of you.

He chuckles. “I’m glad I was able to do it for you, Y/N. I don’t think I’ve ever run to the store that fast in my life.”

Mirroring him, you laugh softly. “I can only imagine what you looked like trying to get everything together.”

He moves his head side to side. “I had a lot of help.”

You shake your head. “This was quite possibly the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“You deserve it.”

Another laugh from you. He just watches you. He watches each emotion cross your face with such admiration, with such a fond, sweet gaze, it could rot your teeth. 

Piano keys tinkle in the music. Michael Buble’s smooth voice wrapping around your private bubble.

“I am endlessly thankful for you, Lee Minho.” 

His gaze softens even more. 

You’re his soft spot. You– beautiful, wonderful, joyous you– are Lee Minho’s weak point. 

Slowly, the swaying to the song begins to slow down as you both get lost within one another. Everything about the scene was like a movie, down to the storm swelling outside your window.

Minho’s eyes flicker down to your lips for a split second.

You grin. His heart thuds in his chest.

“I don’t suppose you got any mistletoe?” you ask cheekily.

His eyes widen for a second, but he quickly catches on to your joke. “That wasn’t on any of the Thanksgiving websites I found.”

“Oh well.”

Without another word, and with the goofiest of grins on both of your faces, you pull Minho in for a kiss. 

His entire world stops when his lips meet yours, everything pauses and the only thing that exists is you. Nothing else matters except for the girl in his arms.

The world could end right now and he would be the happiest man on Earth.

Both of his arms tighten around you, one hand comes up to cup your cheek, cradling it softly. 

Your arms around his neck bring him even closer to you.

His kiss is everything, it’s sugar cookies rising in the oven, it’s a sunrise on the beach, it’s waking up to the smell of cinnamon rolls on Thanksgiving– everything.

It’s everything you’ve always needed. He is everything you’ve always needed.

Eventually, the two of you pull away from one another, but not without a last few stolen pecks on the other’s lips. 

The kisses end up short, you both keep smiling and pulling away, too happy to continue. 

Minho keeps his eyes closed, his thumb brushes over your cheekbone. “I think I have a new favorite holiday.” Another peck to your lips. 

You giggle and kiss him again and again, “Me too, Lee Minho.”

[yourmomxx]

➵ angels talking - social media au | ln4 (2)

❥ pairing - lando norris x fem!singer!reader

❥ plot - the aftermath of you announcing your new relationship

❥ warnings - none

❥ a/n: as always, the pictures are taken off pinterest and therefore do not have any consisency regarding the reader’s looks (as it is a self-insert and the photographs merely are for visualization)

part i | part ii - the number four

masterlist | requests

⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

♔꙳⋆ instagram ꙳⋆

landonorris

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landonorris golden days with my golden girl

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bella.ltn screaming crying throwing up they’re so cute

paddockgirl not lando being a simp on main

↳ landonorris1 @/paddockgirl he’s just like us fr

carlossainz finally official🙏

↳ f1updates @/carlossainz oh hi carlos

kellypiquet tu ferais mieux de la garder @/landonorris

sebastianvettel real happy for you mate

↳ 33maxverstappen @/sebastianvettel we miss you on the grid

realobama her confused face in the second picture she’s just like me fr

hotchswife at first i didn’t know what to think of this but now i just think it’s amazing

suziesalmon new WAG alert

mollym the internet is going to eat this up

coconutananas NOOOO LANDOO

ynforreal guys we lost yn in the world of single ladies😔✊

↳ lanadelslay @/ynforreal i don’t know how to stay strong in this time of grief

lilymhe LANDO I LOVE YOU FOR THIS

↳ alexalbon @/lilymhe ???

alexalbon you just had to start dating my girlfriend’s favorite singer mate didn’t you?

lilyzneimer wishing you guys all the best

alexandrasaintmleux ♥️♥️

↳ lanadelslay @/alexandrasaintmleux ALEX HIII

ao3chick love how all the driver’s girlfriends are commenting like moms signing cards in the name of their kids

danielricciardo congrats!!!

↳ landonorris @/danielricciardo i saw your comment on her post

↳ danielricciardo @/landonorris what comment on whose post? i don’t even speak english🦡

lastlaplando not them being cute

julie.ss highway looking real cozy right now🤭

f1n1fan seb being the proud mom i love him🫶

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yourusername

liked by landonorris, oliviarodrigo and others

yourusername excited to tell you that my new song ‘444’ is available to listen to now on all music streaming platforms! oh, and also that my new album will be released november 22nd😘save the date

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itsbrutalouthere not her telling us about a new album TWO WEEKS before it comes out

sabrinacarpenter song is so amazing babe

papayagirl someone please call taylor swift and get that girl some marketing help😭

lukehemmings 🔥🔥

oliviarodrigo LOVE IT

iknewyouweretrouble I just listened to the song and i am deceased

ynisbabe 444? EXCUSE ME THE MATH

hannahmountana this song is so hot i can’t -

jessicag you did so well with this!!

amslerin please come to la on the next tour i wanna see you live so bad😩😩

jana_gp GIRL WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE ANGELS TOLD YOU HES NOT RIGHT FOR YOU

↳ xemily @/jana_gp WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE NUMBER 444 WAS A SIGN TO LEAVE HIM

ynlnn the background music? the vocals?? i can’t anymore

tswizzle 444 the math is so beautiful on this one

kellykiwi the mv awakened something in me

urnamehere i love this song so much

hamiltonh 444? a fourth album? lando the number four?? BESTIE

therealyn queen of manifesting fr

ferrarisupreme “444 you saved my life i really got these angels by my side” lando norris the man👏 that👏you👏 are👏

tangledinu NEW ALBUM YES

midnightprentiss already presaved i’m so excited

ameliadahlia why is everyone talking about math here?? someone explain i’m so lost😭

↳ sabrinajenga @/ameliadahlia @/girlsplainingcelebrities made a post explaining it all, i’ll tag you🫶

girlsplainingcelebrities

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girlsplainingcelebrities another day, another girlsplain! today, what the number four means to our favorite popstar girly, yn yln!!🩷

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boxnexx not to mention that the new album she’s releasing will be her fourth!!! so excited what she has planned for us

zeeema the whole thing with her and lando is so cute

emilyx i always look forward to your posts☺️🙏

sabrinajenga @/amiadahlia

herbsherm whoever runs this account, you have saved my ass so many times, hope your pillow is cold on both sides

leaglb whether you believe in angel numbers or not, these would be a whole of a lot coincidences

formeformulas when i heard "every time i see 444 it means no more i know for sure" i was FREAKING

cheesestrings ALSO not to mention her album comes out on november 22ND - 2+2=?

tswizzle she’s so smart i love her

ynisbabe when my teachers told me i would need maths outside of school they actually meant this

carlaarcher can we please all agree that 444 is about her relationship with arthur and that it was basically lando who made her realize he wasn’t good enough?

↳ paddockgirl @/carlaarcher GURL FR no way those two didn’t have something going on

↳ leclercsgirl @/paddockgirl besides, the media didn’t see her with any other guy during that time the song is probably set, so it CAN only be arthur

↳ itsellie @/leclersgirl would explain their radio silence with each other as well

↳ bella.ltn @/itsellie tbh if my boyfriend practically stopped posting me on his social media or acknowledging my existence the moment we got more serious i would dump that man too

vanityfair and yourusername

liked by tswizzle, papayagirl and others

vanityfair Singer-Songwriter YN YLN talks Split from Rumoured Childhood Romance Arthur Leclerc, Release of New Song and Announcement of Fourth Album, and Relationship with Formula 1-Driver Lando Norris

Click on the Link in the Bio to watch the entire Interview

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coconutananas that caption is longer than my life span😭

mollym girl was busy the past few weeks

ylnwife i am so in love with everything this woman has been doing for the past few months, this is amazing

factorfic just watched it and it is so amazing!! love how her and lando have the same sass, they fit perfectly tbh

charthurleclerc the day we find out what really happened between her and arthur leclerc will be the day i can finally rest

itsbrutalouthere "I'm a ferrari girl" -YN YLN, girlfriend of MCLAREN DRIVER Lando Norris, 2023

↳ landonorris1 @/itsbrutalouthere loved her for this

↳ bimess @/itsbrutalouthere PLS the way she was like "I love my boyfriend but everytime a ferrari is on pole I risk a breakup" she's so real

ynisbabe she looks so good here hello???

emilyzkn can’t wait for the albummmmm oh my god

jilledits i swear to god if she spills more tea about arthur i will be FERAL

wanderwall now all we need is someone interviewing lando about her and my life will be complete

jawdropforkpop i’m already so excited for her new album, i can’t even

peppyi her new song was so good, can’t wait for the album!!

[lucvly]

— christmas headcannons with chris. ⸰ 𖥔 ͙

warnings: fluff, cursing, mentions of sex, not proofread as always.

a/n: this is soo self indulgent help !! i love christmas fr.

— he’ll act like he literally doesn’t give a shit about christmas but on december 1 he’s already staying up late thinking about what he’s gonna give you.

— i don’t even wanna hear discourse about this but this man acts like a child around the holidays. he’ll enjoy december like he’s a 10 year old child who still thinks santa’s real.

— my man is quick to hang up those lights. it’ll deadass be mid november and he’s already asking you when you’re gonna decorate because he wants to help you.

— gingerbread house making is a must. he loves it. you do it at least three times in december because it’s by far one of his favorite traditions. of course he ends up building something that doesn’t look nearly close to a house but A for effort.

— you get matching ugly sweaters obviously. it’s your job to get them every year, and they progressively get worse. chris always complains about how itchy they are LMFAOO.

— baking christmas cookies with him is such a chore for real. you can’t even let him open the flour because it either ends up all on the floor, or on your face. don’t even ask him how to preheat the oven because those cookies will end up burnt.

— most times you have to make three or four batches of cookies because the first batch turns out awful, the second one: burnt.

— once your relationship gets really serious, you two make christmas cards and send them to your close family and relatives. it’s corny, sure, but you both love doing it.

— once every year, you go with him and his brothers for a late night drive just to see how people decorated around the neighborhood. chris always ends up falling asleep on your shoulder in the backseat while nick is yelling about how the lights should’ve been hung higher or how the reindeer is out of place.

— you best believe you’re writing letters to santa. it’s unserious but chris loves doing it, especially because he gets to write something along the lines of: “santa, all i want for christmas is my girlfriend under the tree. thx. — C” LMFAOOAOA sorry.

— you’re absolutely making matching ornaments. they have your initials on them it’s adorable. though decorating them is painful as hell because chris always ends up throwing glitter at you.

— takes elf on the shelf so serious like calm down!!! he better not catch anyone laying a finger on that dumbass elf or he’ll go absolutely insane.

— going christmas shopping with him is adorable. he gets so excited over what to get his brothers and his parents AWW, and he also gets a present for trevor obviously.

— you are never gonna know what that man gets you for christmas. he hides it so well it surprises you each year to be honest. you’re out here thinking he didn’t even get you a present and he’s already packing up at least three.

— definitely an expensive gift type of boyfriend, i’m talking tiffany necklaces, chanel bags, dior, ysl. and he doesn’t even care because seeing you happy makes him 10 times happier. (“baby, you didn’t have to– oh my god.” “i know, but i wanted to. you deserve it.”)

— of course you also get him cute and expensive gifts but you could seriously give him a rock and he’d cherish it as if you just gave him a gold bar.

— you two will absolutely watch christmas movies together, especially romcoms. he loves christmas romcoms LMFAOO. he’s the type to complain about the main character idc.

— he hangs up a mistletoe on his door just so he can tease you and give you a kiss every time you walk into his room. (“look, mistletoe, you gotta kiss me.” “chris i swear to god.”)

— christmas dinners are hilarious bye. he’ll deadass be eating 3 or 4 plates with no shame at all. you’re staring at him in disbelief and he just looks at you with his mouth full like “😊”. at least he’s happy LMFAOO.

— he gives you at least three presents. the first one is marked “from: santa, to: y/n” obviously you know it’s him LMFAO he thinks it’s cute and you just leave him be. second one is marked “from: chris, to: his girlfriend.” as if he wasn’t the one marking up those presents BYE. third one is “from: the best boyfriend ever, to: the prettiest girl.” he’s so cute somebody sedate me !!

— one hundred percent asks nick and matt to figure out what you got him for christmas. you’ve figured this out over the years so you don’t even give them hints anymore LMAOO.

— the worst jokes over the holidays seriously. (“hold on. babe, which cooking seasoning is the most festive?” “chris–” “christmas thyme.”) he needs to be stopped lord have mercy.

— secretly loves decorating. he’ll decorate with you all day fr. ornaments, mistletoes, the tree in general is his favorite. he cannot deal with putting up lights though. it pisses him off so badly– (only because he ends up tangled in them).

— i just know he makes hot chocolate with water. nuh uh. you had to teach him the correct way (with milk) because it was seriously getting on your nerves LMAO.

— he gets so lovey dovey over the holidays. he’s also horny 24/7 but that’s completely besides the point HELP. hands around your waist, arm around your shoulder, hand holding, everything.

— matching pjs YUP. he loves matching christmas outfits with you LMAO especially pjs. y’all have like four matching pj sets every year it’s so cute.

[hwashotcheeto]

𝑩𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝑭𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅'𝒔 𝑴𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 (1)

Best Friend's Mother Masterlist

Chapter: One

Milf!Park Seonghwa X gn!reader

Summary: You finally meet Wooyoung's father, and he isn't who you were expecting at all.

WC: 3.3k

CW: Mostly more plot/character development, but suggestive at the end (teasing, flirting). Wooyoung is a brat (no one is surprised), Seonghwa uses pet names on the reader (darling, dear, (little) doll)

AN: Ahhh, here we go, first official chapter! There's no smut just yet BUT the next chapter will be, promise! I hope you enjoy!

Tag List: @hyunjinsjeans

You let out a huge sigh of relief as you submitted your final assignment for the semester. You flopped back onto your bed and laughed in relief, feeling your pulsing headache beginning to ebb away. 

The last day of the semester came way faster than you were prepared for. And you weren’t nearly as stressed as your normally would’ve been. 

Maybe because tonight, you and Wooyoung were leaving to go visit his dad. 

Wooyoung told you the next day after you asked that his father responded with an “enthusiastic yes,” and couldn’t wait to meet you. The last week of the semester flew by after that, and now you were here. 

You checked your phone, and you had thirty minutes before you had to meet up with Wooyoung before you started the drive back to his dad’s house. Thankfully, you’d packed most of your things the night before, so you spent your time double and triple checking everything, and collecting everything else you might need. 

And before you knew it, Wooyoung was texting you. 

Heyyyyy

I’m parked outside your dorm, I finished early

Did that essay kill you? 

Come onnnnn, we gotta go sooooooon

You ignored his texts until you were leaving the dorm. You got outside with your bags, being met with the early Winter weather. Cold air, a little bit of snow on the ground. Par for the course for northern November weather. 

Wooyoung got out of the car and helped you with your bags. “Did you bring your whole closet?” He asked as he put them into his trunk. 

“I had to, this is all I have.” 

“Oh, right. Well, you can borrow some of mine if you run out while we’re there.” 

You were going to be with Wooyoung and his dad, and maybe other family, until classes started again in January. A whole month away really was a small vacation, and you were ecstatic to be away from this building with your best friend. 

“Thanks, Wooyoung,” you said softly, hoping you wouldn’t have to bother him with borrowing his clothes. He smiled and motioned for you two to get in the car. 

And then you were off. It wasn’t a long trip, about a forty minute drive, but it felt way shorter to you. You were both incredibly relieved to be away from school, but also incredibly excited for what this Winter Break would hold. 

Your heart was pounding as Wooyoung entered his home town. He hadn’t told you much about where he grew up or where his dad lived, so when Wooyoung drove into a rich suburban neighborhood and pulled into the driveway of an extravagant house you were floored. 

The house was a minimalist, modern aesthetic. The colors were sharp and contrasted starkly, the windows were clear and clean, there wasn’t a speck of dirt anywhere.

“You didn’t tell me your dad was loaded,” you joked as Wooyoung turned off the car. But when you looked at him, he was nervous. You couldn’t really fathom why Wooyoung was nervous to be home, unless he himself didn’t want to see his father. 

But if Wooyoung didn’t want to see him, why did he bring you along? It didn’t make sense. 

“I need to tell you something about my dad before we go inside,” he started, looking down at his hands in his lap, fidgeting with them. You couldn’t help the numerous ridiculous thoughts that filled your head, trying to predict whatever Wooyoung was about to say. 

“My dad…” He was already hesitating and trailing off. Warning bells were going off inside your head. Wooyoung thought for a long while, before you could see him mentally make the decision to just rip the bandaid off. “My dad isn’t a masculine man. He prefers to dress like a woman.” 

And you sat stunned for a few seconds as to why your best friend thought this would be an issue for you. 

“Wooyoung, I’m sorry, but do you know me?” You asked. He looked up at you, and along with nervousness, guilt started creeping into his eyes. “I don’t care how your dad wants to dress or act, as long as he’s not an asshole.” 

You saw Wooyoung’s whole body relax, melting back into the car seat. He laughed softly. “Yeah, I don’t know why I was so nervous. I just didn’t want you to be surprised when we went inside to see him.” 

You nodded, and smiled encouragingly. He smiled back, and you both went to get out of the car. 

As you two were grabbing your respective bags, Wooyoung said “ah,” remembering something. “By the way, he prefers being called ‘mom’.”

“Are you sure your dad doesn’t have something to confess?” You said, half joking. Wooyoung laughed and shook his head. 

“No, no, it’s not like that. Believe me, I asked a couple years ago. He likes being a man, he just also likes looking feminine.” 

And then the nervous excitement bubbled up inside you as you both walked up the driveway, then the sidewalk, then the stairs to the front door. You could feel the mix of emotions clawing at your body from the inside out as Wooyoung struggled to grab the correct key. 

The excitement of meeting your best friend’s dad, along with the nervousness of wanting to impress him was making your stomach churn. But not in a way where you felt sick, your body just didn’t know how to calm down from everything. 

Wooyoung finally got the key out and unlocked the door. Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest and run away. 

You walked inside and were greeted to the inside of the house reflecting the outside. Modern, stark, clean, but with tasteful decorations scattered throughout. Some paintings, statues, plants, decorative lights. 

But all of that was second to the gorgeous man in front of you. 

Wooyoung’s father-or, mother, as he preferred-was sitting on a large, plush couch to the left of the door, watching a movie. He looked over the couch and smiled at the two of you. You forgot to smile back, because you were staring in awe of how someone could be this beautiful. 

You didn’t hear what he was saying as he stood up to greet you two, because you got a full view of him and all the air left you. 

He was wearing a long sleeved sparkly sweater dress that stretched down to his knees, with sheer tights underneath. His black hair was fluffy and fell freely around his perfect face, reaching down to his jawline. 

Oh, his eyes and smile made your knees weak. You could feel nervous tremors run up and down your thighs. 

What might’ve surprised you the most was his hourglass figure. He had tits, hips, and a tiny waist. 

Oh, what a Winter Break this was about to be. 

“Hey!” Wooyoung called, and you suddenly remembered you weren’t in a dream. Both men were looking at you, Wooyoung slightly annoyed, and his mother amused. “Eomma, this is my friend. This is my mom, Seonghwa.” 

“It’s wonderful to meet you,” Seonghwa said, holding out his hand. You took his hand and tried to give the best handshake you could. His grip was firm, but delicate. Your eyes flicked down to look at his hands, and to your surprise, even his hands were feminine. 

“Thank you, it’s good to meet you too,” you babbled out, struggling to make sure your voice didn’t waver. Seonghwa smiled warmly as he pulled back, and he turned to Wooyoung to hug him tightly. Wooyoung struggled to return the hug with his bags on his arms, but he still managed to make it work. 

“Did you go out?” Wooyoung asked Seonghwa as he pulled back, looking over his mother’s outfit. “You’re all dressed up.” 

“No, but my son and his friend visiting me is reason enough to dress up.” 

You swear you could feel your head starting to get light. Wooyoung glanced at you, then back at his mother. 

“Okay, well, I’m gonna go unpack.” Wooyoung looked at you before continuing. “There’s a guest room close to mine, I’ll show you.” You nodded, and you two started for the stairs. 

“Don’t be too long!” Seonghwa called, “Dinner will be ready soon!” 

You felt your heart stutter at the mention of a home cooked meal for the first time since you couldn’t remember when. 

Wooyoung brought you down the hallway, turned to the right, and stopped at the end. “This room on the far end is the master room. Belongs to my mom, obviously.” Wooyoung waved his arms around to express his point, then motioned to the door on the left side of the hall, the one he was in front of. “This one is the guest room, and the one on the other side by the corner is mine.” He pointed to the door all the way down the hall. 

You nodded, your eyes betraying you and drifting to Seonghwa’s bedroom door. The forbidden room, your brain was telling you. You had no reason to go in there, but the idea of going beyond it- 

“Okay, dude, I can see that you were checking out my mom, okay?” Wooyoung blurts, making you whip your head back to him. You’d hoped you didn’t look as obvious as you felt, and your worst fear came true. 

If Wooyoung saw it, so did Seonghwa, and the mortification slowly took over your body as you felt your face burn hot. 

Your first instinct was to apologize, but you stopped yourself. All possible words left you, and you just stared at Wooyoung with fear and embarrassment all over your face. Wooyoung sighed and shook his head. 

“We’ll talk about this later, go unpack your stuff. Wait until I come get you.” And with that, he walked off to his room and disappeared into it. 

You didn’t even get to appreciate the gorgeous room you got to stay in, because you were too consumed with guilt to properly look over it. It was large, lavish, and comfortable, but you felt awful as you started unpacking. 

You were drooling all over your best friend’s mom the second you walked in the door. You couldn’t help yourself from feeling awful the entire time you put your luggage away. 

You jumped a whole foot in the air when you heard a knock on the door. The door creaked open and Wooyoung peeked inside. You were just finishing up as he came into the room, and you felt simultaneous relief and dread. 

Before you could stop it, words began tumbling out of your mouth. “Look Woo, I’m sorry, I know it was insanely disrespectful of me to act that way in front of your mom, I should’ve acted better and I-” 

“Woah, slow down,” Wooyoung said, holding his hands up. You stopped and swallowed back the rest of the words you thought of saying. You realized then that Wooyoung didn’t look upset anymore. In fact, he looked resigned. “I’m not mad. I think I was just protective.” He looked away for a second before he looked back at you. “I didn’t want you to think of my mom as some kind of porn character.”

“No, never!” You immediately blurted. 

“I know you’re not like that, and I’m sorry I snapped at you.” You could see in Wooyoung’s eyes, he felt remorseful. You found it a little weird, because he was justified in being upset. “People have done it in the past, he thinks he found a partner, and it turns out they liked the idea of having him as a personal porn star object, nothing more.”

The fact that such a revelation didn’t surprise you made you doubly upset. 

“So, I guess, what I’m saying is,” he started, and then sighed again. “I mean, if you fuck, just don’t tell me about it.” 

The bluntness of his request makes you choke, and you can feel your face instantly burn hot. Wooyoung finally breaks and laughs, and his laugh makes you laugh. 

You really were lucky to have an amazing friend. Not because he just gave you permission to fuck his mom, but that you could have proper conversations about issues and settle them like the adults you were. 

Then again, you both clearly still acted like teenagers, but it was like a wise man once said: There’s a time and place for everything. 

The three of you were sitting around the small dining table in the kitchen, enjoying the dinner Seonghwa had made for you all. Despite saying that it was a “small” table, there was still tons of space left over. You could fit much more food and people at this “small” dining table with how much space there was. 

The food was delicious. Half because Seonghwa was clearly a skilled cook, and half because you hadn’t eaten anything made with love in so long. The fact that it was made with love and care put into it made it taste stellar. 

“So,” Seonghwa started, looking over at you. “Why are you spending your break with us?” 

You expected this question. You’d rehearsed it a million times over. 

“I don’t talk to my parents, and the rest of my family already has plans this year.” It was the truth, but it didn’t give away too much information. Seonghwa gave you a sympathetic look with a slight pout. He must’ve realized you didn’t wanna talk about it more than that, because he didn’t push for you to explain more. 

“Well, I’m happy to have you.” You smiled and said a soft “thank you” before taking another bite of food. “You’re welcome.” 

You expected Wooyoung to be rolling his eyes with every look you gave Seonghwa, and to be annoyed with how permanently flushed your cheeks were. But to your surprise, he was giving you little smirks the entire meal, and giggling silently when your voice wavered as you spoke to Seonghwa. 

It’s like you two never really grew up. Two little kids giggling at each other from across the table, almost reminiscent of teasing your friends about their crush at lunch time. 

The big difference here is that your fucking crush is your best friend’s mom. 

And yet despite how obvious you two must’ve been, Seonghwa never commented on anything you two did. It was as if he hadn’t noticed a thing. 

You survived the rest of dinner, with light talk about how you and Wooyoung met, how school was going, your major, and more about you as a person. 

Seonghwa began to clean up when you all were done eating, but you grabbed your dishes and brought them to the sink. 

“What are you doing?” Seonghwa asked as you began to rinse off your utensils. He looked genuinely stunned, and you couldn’t understand why. 

“Cleaning?” 

“You don’t have to do that.” Seonghwa took the dishes from you. Not forcefully, but gently removing them from your hands. “I know, it’s polite to help, but I don’t mind cleaning. I actually like it.” 

“But you cooked. It’s the least I can do,” you argued. Seonghwa looked at you for a moment, then smiled. You felt your stomach flip over, and smiled back to cover it up. 

“Thank you, dear. That’s sweet of you.” 

The name shouldn’t have made you as flustered as it did. 

You spent the next few hours with Wooyoung and Seonghwa, continuing to talk, having some movies as background noise. As you sat with them, you observed their dynamic, and learned more about both of them in the process. 

Your irrational theories about Wooyoung being averse to Seonghwa couldn’t be more wrong. He was relaxed, comfortable, and he clearly loved his mom. Wooyoung was cuddled up to Seonghwa towards the end of your conversation, his head basically on Seonghwa’s chest and his arms around him. 

After the final movie, all three of you decided it was time to head to sleep. You said your good nights and went to your separate rooms. 

But despite the comfortable bed, the wonderful room, and the hospitality of Seonghwa, you couldn’t sleep. 

You looked at your phone, you shifted around, you tried walking around, but you didn’t feel tired. You were getting frustrated after a couple hours. 

You decided to go get a drink of water. Maybe it would calm you, or walking around would take your mind off trying to sleep. 

You quietly made your way out of your room and down the hallway, using the light from your phone to guide you. As you passed Wooyoung’s room, you heard him softly snoring. 

You got into the kitchen and carefully navigated to the cabinets. Seonghwa and Wooyoung both had shown you where to find cups in case a need like this arose during your visit. You didn’t expect to need it the night of, but here you were. 

You found a glass and got your water. It didn’t make you feel any better, but it did feel nice. 

“Can’t sleep, darling?” 

Your whole body jumped as you whirled around to look for the owner of the sound. You knew it was Seonghwa before you saw him, but you still weren’t prepared to see him in the archway, leaning against the wall, in a long black silk robe with flowers all over it. 

You shouldn’t have been fixated on the fact that his robe was open enough for you to see the line that ran down his chest, and the slight ridge of each side. 

He laughed softly before he spoke. “I’m sorry for startling you.” 

His voice was deeper than it was before. Smoother, almost. Like chocolate sauce. 

“It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it,” you mumbled, trying to keep your eyes on his face. That ended up not working out as his eyes made you feel small, and you looked to focus on your glass instead of him. 

But what you didn’t know yet was that Seonghwa didn’t like to be ignored. You looked at him when he spoke to you. It was a rule like any other. The sky is blue, the grass is green, and you listen to Seonghwa. 

He walked over to you and grabbed your chin, turning your head to look up at him. Your mind went blank and your stomach churned inside you like a washing machine. A smirk pulled the corners of his mouth up as your cheeks turned red yet again. 

“There we are,” he cooed softly, his voice hardly more than a rumble in his throat. 

“Seonghwa, what are you doing?” You said, your voice wavering on every word. Amusement sparkled in his eyes as he moved even closer, his hand moving to the back of your neck. 

“Don’t tell me I was hallucinating the looks you gave me since you showed up. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you checking me out the entire time?” 

Of course not, you knew there was a strong possibility he knew everything. He was at least over double your age, he was no stranger to all of this. 

“I just didn’t think you’d do anything.” You began to stutter more as you struggled to pick the right words. You could see it clearly, in his big dark eyes, that he was enjoying watching you fight to stay composed. 

“And why wouldn’t I? You’re a cute little doll, how could I resist?” 

Your heart gave one massive beat you could feel throughout your whole body. The air in your lungs was sucked out. Your head felt light. You didn’t feel like you remembered how to stand. 

Seonghwa laughed again, and his eyes shifted to something more hungry. More primal. “Come, little doll,” he said, pulling you even closer until you were pressed up against his chest. “Won’t you stay with me for the night?” 

How could you answer with anything besides “yes”?

Thank you for reading! Please reblog if you enjoyed! 💜

This is a work of fiction written by me. This does not represent the idol(s) in any way. Any re-upload is not allowed and will be reported.

[manicpixiedreamcurl]

The More You Give ❧ (Part VIII)

Pairing | Eddie x shy!reader Warnings |��18+ only. Do not interact if you are underage. Roleplay (PrincessxWannabe Usurper lmao), sexual fantasies (including rockstarxgroupie), Eddie says some weird possessive stuff but reader likes it, oral (M receiving), P in V sex, dom!Eddie, sexual guilt as per, there’s aftercare. Word Count | 10,400 A/N | Nobody ask me about the timeline of this story, either in the fic or how long it takes me to write it. Taglist Previous Chapter

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦  

The air is stuffy, despite the growing chill outside. The last days of Summer are at least a week gone now, and with Autumn comes heated stores. An ABBA song is playing on the main floor, filtering through enough for you to make out the tune. It’s the sort of thing your Mom plays in the car all the time, your mind following the words even though you can’t quite hear them over the buzzing ceiling lights. 

I try to capture every minute, the feeling in it. Slipping through my fingers- 

The curtains pull back, the sound of metal over metal dragging you to full attention. May’s eyes are bright with excitement as she twirls, showing off how the strapless black dress fits around her waist and flares out at her hips. 

“It’s perfect, right?” She says, smoothing it down only to twirl and puff the skirt up again. “Ooh, let me see with the jacket.” 

You search through the bag at your feet for the cropped jacket she’d found earlier, then watch as she pulls it over her shoulders. She fluffs her hair and poses in the mirror at the end of the changing room hallway. “I mean it actually is perfect, right?”

“For sure, you can totally see who you are already.” 

“Right? And then I can just backcomb my hair a little. My Mom’s gonna lend me her scarf. God knows what earrings I’ll wear, but I can work it out. Definitely can’t get anything new after this,” she finishes, turning her head and pulling at the tag on her back to double check the price. She pulls a face before tucking it away gingerly.

“That bad?” 

“That bad. Even with 30% off.” May smooths her hands over the skirt again, turning once more to the mirror. Her smile lights up her pretty face. “But totally worth it.” 

Once the dress is folded and wrapped in tissue paper by the woman at the counter, paid for with what seems like every spare penny in May’s purse, attention moves to your costume. “Okay, Fairy God Mother,” May says, linking her arm with yours. “Game plan. Where do we need to go?”

“I think just the costume store. I have a blue dress I can use. But I’d like some wings and a wand. Maybe a tiara, if I can afford it.”

“Ugh, you’re gonna look so cute. Are you sure you don’t want to come to Tommy’s party?”

“The whole reason I’m dressing up is for Grace,” you reason, spotting the orange banner reading City of Fright, which appears in the same spot every year mid-September and vanishes November first. 

Gone are ABBA’s lilting tones, replaced with stock Halloween music, the occasional creepy laugh and thunder clap. The entire front of the store is complete costumes, wrapped up in plastic and hanging on metal rods, but once you reach the shelves at the back, you are surrounded by an array of vampire teeth, witches hats and face paints. 

“Eddie’s renting Theatre of Blood,” you tell her, not waiting for a reaction before launching into a prepared defence. “It sounds really good. It’s about an actor who takes revenge on his critics by murdering them like Shakespearian deaths - drowning in Malmsey wine, that kind of thing. He picked it cause, you know, he thought I’d like it.” 

“Okay, but she’ll be in bed by what? Eight?” May asks, wandering around the table of paraphernalia as you start thumbing through fairy wings piled next to fake blood bags, searching for the right blue. “You could come after.”

There’s a moment of silence, then she sighs softly. “Okay, I will say it’s kind of cute that he picked that. In a weird, not really that cute cause it’s a horror movie about gruesome murders, sort of way.” 

You stifle a grin, chancing a look at her over the table. “That sounded…almost like a compliment?”

“Almost,” she agrees, walking back round to your side. Then, before you can answer, she has seized a shiny silver plastic tiara and is reaching out to place it gently on your hair. “There. Fit for a Princess.”

You shake your head, laughing. “What about a Fairy Godmother?”

May hums, grabbing a set of the net and wire wings and pulling them over her arms. “I’m the fairy now!” She declares, raising her chin and going up on tiptoes to whirl around the racks, wings shaking behind her. “Here to make all your Halloween costume dreams come true!” 

Your heart warms, a giggle escaping as she peers curiously at the rubber masks and cat ears in character, mumbling about the strange habits of humans. 

“Oh please, fairy godmother! I need a wand if I’m going to look anything like the real thing!” 

“A wand, of course!” She cries dramatically. “No true fairy would be seen dead without their wand.” You watch her scurry on tip toe around until she comes to a display of wands of various colours, topped by stars and hearts, sequined tassels and glittery handles. She wiggles her fingers above them, picks out one with a simple silver star and travels back to you gracefully. You take it from her with a flourish. “There, and now your wings.” She helps you into your own pair, then turns and throws a graceful hand into the air. “Now, we fly!” 

You flit about after her, laughing at her with every pause she takes to frown disapprovingly at fake scars and rubber spiders. She stops in front of a Tinkerbell costume, pointing with a surprised smile at the model on the package. “Hey, I know her!”

You snort a laugh and it sets her off, all attempts to stifle your laughter only making it worse. Your giggles are only beginning to settle when you feel the sudden awareness of being watched tickle the back of your neck. 

“Uh, hi girls.” 

Your heart drops. Caroline stands, a hand over her mouth, barely covering the smirk. “You look like you’re having…fun.”

Suddenly, the clear elastic of the wings is too tight around your shoulders. You can feel the crooked angle of the tiara atop your head, close to slipping off entirely. The wand in your hand isn’t silver now, just chipped paint on plastic. 

Next to you, May is wrenching off her wings, laughing airily. “Just messing around,” she assures, folding them up and holding them with a tight fist at her hip. “You costume shopping?”

Caroline looks around at where you are. “I mean, obviously. Not for me, though, for Ethan,” she sighs. “You know boys, no interest in shopping.” She sets her stare on you, eyes scanning from the crooked tiara downwards. “Are you girls dressing up together?”

Your throat feels blocked, leaving you just to shake your head. May answers for you both. “No, no. Like I said, we’re just messing around. So we should probably put this stuff back.” She slides her wings into the space between some hanging masks before elbowing you into action. You’ve abandoned the tiara and wand and are in the process of sliding off the wings when she adds, coolly, “I’m actually going as Madonna.”

Caroline’s smirk falls, replaced at terrifying speed with a deep frown. “What? You can’t, I’m doing Madonna. I’ve got a veil and everything. Ethan’s going to be Sean Penn.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m going as her in Desperately Seeking Susan, so it’ll be, like, totally different.”

“But I don’t think there should be two Madonna’s,” Caroline continues, almost sounding sympathetic. She crosses her arms, shrugging. “You’ll just have to go as somebody else.”

“Oh,” May says, shoulders falling. “Um, right. I get what you mean.”

You’re not in the habit of arguing with Caroline. It’s been easier, historically, not to contradict her or answer back. But you can feel May deflating beside you, and it tumbles out. “But you won’t look similar or anything, they’re completely different costumes.”

“They’re not though.” She answers with finality. “They’re both Madonna, and the last thing we want is comparisons, right? People talking about who wears it better all night?”

May nods. “You’re right. Totally. I’ll think of something else. No worries.”

“But May, your dress! You can’t return it now, it was on sale!” 

“It’s fine,” May snaps before smiling close mouthed at Caroline. “I can find something else to wear, no issue.”

“You could be fairies together!” Caroline says. “I bet the guys at Tommy’s party would love that.”

“No, no, like I said, we were just messing around,” May says. “Not really my thing. And anyway, she’s not coming on Friday.”

“Oh no!” Caroline pushes her bottom lip out into a pout. “But I haven’t seen you outside of school in ages!”

“I’m babysitting,” you explain, clutching your removed wings in your fists. 

“Oh sure you are, not spending the night with your boyfriend. We hardly see you anymore, I feel like there must be so much detail we’ve all been missing out on. You’ll have to come on the next girls trip, right May? So we can hear all about you and…Eddie.”

Your heart pounds as May nods. “Yeah,” she answers. “Eddie can’t have all your time.”

“Perfect. Well, let me know what you end up doing, May! See you later, girls!”

She flounces away, and May hides her face in her hands. “I can’t believe she saw me doing that.” 

“It’s okay-”

“It’s not!” She says, throwing her hands up. Her eyes shine with frustrated tears. “It’s not okay! Not for me, anyway. It’s different for you, people already think you’re weird.” 

You blink at your friend. Then you look down at the speckled linoleum floor, watch the spots fuzz and blend into each other as the lump in your throat builds. Before five seconds have passed, her arms appear at your sides, pulling you into a tight hug. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I didn’t mean that.”

But you know that she did. You know that’s exactly what she thinks. 

For the moment you have to think about what you say now, you imagine calling her out on this. Pushing her away and telling her that she doesn’t have to spend any more time with you, given you embarrass her so much. You’d buy your fairy wings and your crown, walk out with your head held high. 

Maybe she’d call after you, apologise again, say that losing you isn’t worth impressing Caroline or sitting at the cheerleader table.

But maybe any pain she’d feel at the prospect of your friendship ending would only bring out her anger. Maybe she’d swear to never speak to you again. 

If you were somebody else, someone who didn’t love May, maybe you’d take that risk. But you are you, and you’ve loved May since you were five. To you, the only thing worse than feeling hurt yourself is the thought of hurting her back.

So you shake your head at her shoulder, blink away tears and squeeze her tight in your arms. “It’s okay,” you whisper. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” you nod, pulling away from her collar that smells the way being seven smelled. You release her, and in turn her arms fall from you. “I get it, you’re just stressed.”

“I know! I don’t know what I’m going to do about my costume!” 

Your heart pangs. You swallow the lump in your throat that’s trying to rise back up. “Well, at least the dress is black,” you say, sniffing quick and quiet. You drag your hands over your eyes, clearing away the wetness clinging to your bottom lashes. Stop it, you think. Stop crying. “Let’s return the jacket, yeah? Then you’ll have money for a witch hat or something.” 

May nods slowly as she thinks it through. “Okay, yeah. Yeah, that works.” She gives you a relieved smile. “God, what would I do without you? Let’s go.”

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦  

“Well, I didn’t think I wanted glasses because Katie has glasses,” Grace explains, holding her plastic pumpkin, now close to overflowing with candy, in both hands at her stomach. She looks at you with a look too knowing for a seven year old, then continues. “Katie is a tattle tale.”

“I see,” you nod. 

“But I want ones like Jessica’s!” She cries, arms extending with the weight of her treasure trove before she pulls it back up. “They go dark in the sun!”

“It’s not the same,” she whines. “And then when we went to the optom- uhm.”

“But you already have sunglasses,” you reason, picturing the little red plastic pair you’ve had to run back for when out on walks many times. Grace hefts the pumpkin again and you give in, lifting the bag from her grasp and burying your wand in with the candy. You soften when she grabs your hand with a deep sigh.

“The optometrist?”

“Yeah, when we went to see him, he said my eyes were perfect!”

“Well, that’s good.”

“No!” She yells, dramatically, pulling on your arm with her whole weight until you have to  heave yourself back up. You stifle a giggle at her distraught expression. “Because now I’ll never get glasses, and everybody has them.”

“Well, first of all, I’m sure not everybody has them,” you say, smiling down at her grumpy face. “And secondly, you shouldn’t just want something like glasses because other people have them, even if it was everybody else. You can’t just live your life just trying to be like everyone around you.”

“I know,” she mumbles. Then, catching your raised eyebrow, “I know!”

You round the corner to her street, and by the time you’re approaching her house, she’s moved comfortably on to the next topic of her candy eating schedule for the next three days. “Because Jessica saves all her Skittles for last,” Grace explains, her position now firmly against being anything like Jessica. “Which is stupid, because you should have the best candy first.”

“Mm? Why’s that?”

Grace looks at you with a frown. “Because the best comes first,” she tells you, with the tone of somebody kindly trying to hold in their frustration with an imbecile. 

“Of course, silly of me to ask. Hi, Mrs. Miller!”

Grace’s Mom was clearly waiting for you near the front door, already out and standing on the front steps as you walk up the front path. Grace holds her hands out to take her bucket back, launching forward when she’s got ahold of it. “Mom! Look at all my candy!”

“Whoa! There’s no way you’ll be able to eat all that!” Her Mom says, eyes comically wide. “Think you need someone to help you out, hm?”

Grace shrieks indignantly, running under her Mom’s arm inside and clambering up the stairs out of sight without a bye nor leave for you. 

“Everything went okay?” Her Mom asks, smiling when you give her your usual answer, all fine. “Will you be okay getting home? I can get her back down if you need a ride.”

“Oh, um,” you check either side of the street, feeling suddenly warmed inside at the sight of Eddie’s van parked at the end of the road. Now that you’re concentrating on it, you’re sure you can hear the music blasting behind glass. “No, it’s okay. That’s my boyfriend.”

“Ah, Eddie.” She smiles, then smacks her teeth as she, too, registers his music. “Maybe tell him to keep it down next time? I don’t mind but I already get monthly phone calls from Mrs O’Hara about the sound of the lawnmower.” 

“Oh, sorry. I’ll do that,” 

“Okay,” she says, calling after you as you start up a fast pace towards Eddie. “You have a good night!”

You pull your cardigan sleeves down over your hands to fight the chill as you move, smiling when you can properly make out Eddie sitting in the front seat. He had a special D&D night planned when he dropped you off at Grace’s earlier. While your costume sat folded in your bag all day, he’d gone to school dressed all in black, even his white Reeboks swapped out for a pair of knockoff doc martens he’d launched himself towards when he caught sight of them at the thrift store. They’d fit him just fine with three pairs of socks.

This morning, sitting in his van, he’d barely managed to control his excited twitches while you lined his eyes with a cheap black pencil from the drugstore. Your work is a little smudged now, but on him, it looks even better than before. Which makes sense, you think. Eddie doesn’t suit neat lines. 

“Hi Princess!” He calls, turning the music down enough that his excitement is just audible through the glass as you approach. 

“Not a Princess,” you remind him as you climb in, turning your back to shake your shoulders and display the blue net wings. “A Fairy God Mother.” You settle back into the seat, shivering away the chill that had gooseflesh rising over your body. Eddie rubs your arm over your cardigan, and you take the opportunity to grab his hand. As much as you want to warm your cold fingers, it’s mainly just to touch him. “How was the game?”

His grin turns sharp as he leans back in his chair, chin tilted up. “So fucking good. I have them right where I want them. I thought for a second Lucas had me worked out. He hesitated when they were getting to the caves, but then he just went along with it. I can’t wait till next week.” He lets go of your hand long enough to start up the van before returning his open palm to the space between you for you to take hold of him again. “How is Princess Grace?”

“Increasingly despotic. She executed like five of her toys before we went out trick or treating.” 

“Jesus,” Eddie laughs. “What for?” 

“Well, her not-so-wise Fairy God Mother,” you start, gesturing to yourself. “Made the mistake of telling her about royal food tasters? Now there’s a poisoning attempt every few days.” 

“Very active imagination, this girl. Violent, but active.”

“Mm, I think most girls play that way. When I was little- Well, me and May, we’d act like witches sometimes? And make potions out of mud and sticks and stuff. And talk about who we would curse.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks. “And which poor soul had earned this spite, pray tell?” 

“Did you ever have Mr Gilmour?”

“Oh, Gilmour, yeah, I fuckin' hated that guy!” Eddie yells. His eyebrows furrow. “I threw up during gym in seventh grade and the sadistic prick made me finish running a mile.” 

“Yeah, I forgot about that till now.” His brows stay taught for a second longer, then he shakes his head a little, tapping his fingers along your knuckles. “Too bad I didn’t have you around then, coulda cursed him for me a little earlier.”

“Oh, Eddie, that’s horrible.”

“I would have,” you promise. “But you were telling me about the game. Did you get Dustin with the, um, venom troll?”

“Not yet. We didn’t get as far as I’d have wanted before they had to go. I mean, what fourteen year old has a curfew? I didn’t, and I turned out alright. But I’ll get him next week. I can’t wait to see his face - that little punk thinks he’s so smart, but he is pre-dictable.”

Eddie continues describing the campaign, the traps he’s set for them that he’s sure they’ll run into, the whole drive to his place, excited and animated as he usually is on the rare occasion you get to see him after Hellfire, wound up from the events of the day. He only slows down when you’re settled on his couch. Sneakers left at the door, wings, tiara, and wand abandoned on the kitchen table, wrapped up in his arms as the opening titles of Theatre of Blood play. 

Eddie’s so warm, and unusually still when you sit with him like this. Being cuddled up to him puts you in mind of your aunt’s black cat. She spends the first couple hours of every visit pretending that she isn’t interested in being anywhere near you. Then, after letting her sniff your hand, rubbing gently between her ears, she darts up on your lap, her soft heat spreading through you. 

Eddie might not admit it, at least not verbally, but he likes being petted the same way. You’ve seen his eyes flutter when you play with his hair, heard the gentle sighs he lets out when you touch his cheek. Now, leaning into his chest, rubbing lazily at his torso, you can feel the way his body relaxes into the couch under your touch. It makes you smile at the TV even as Vincent Price swears revenge on all his critics.

You turn your head just a little, trying to be subtle as much as possible so you can look at him properly. Eddie’s eyes, which in sunlight can be bright as copper, are dark and focused in the electric light of the TV. The light freckles that dotted the tops of his cheeks and nose during Summer have faded from the cloudy days and early sunsets, leaving only his soft pale skin. His lips, as always, are soft looking and pink, still shiny from the last time his tongue peeked out, set in a near constant subtle pout. 

You sigh gently, and in turn breathe in the remnants of smoke and laundry detergent from his shirt, the fading spice of his drugstore aftershave.

“You know I picked this movie out special,” he says, only his eyes moving to fix you with a mockingly suspicious expression. “Vincent’s a master.”

You’re surprised to find you’re not ashamed at having been caught. “M’just looking at you.”

“Therein lies the problem, sweet thing. One minute you’re just looking. Next thing I know my head’s trapped between your thighs.” This time he leans in properly. “Wicked temptress.” He whispers it, his breath warming your face. 

You think he’ll kiss you then, but instead he relaxes back into the couch with a sigh. “M’just lucky you weren’t dressed up all day.” His hand tugs at the hem of your skirt, then spreads out just above your knee. “I wouldn’t have been able to think about anything else. It’s a miracle I even got the movie playing instead of trying to touch you.”

“I wouldn’t have minded,” you answer, trying not to sound too eager. 

“I bet,” he says, eyes shining. Then his face turns serious, palm coming to his heart. “But Eddie the Chivalrous would never touch a Princess without properly wooing her first.” His eyes scan over your face quickly. “I guess that means we need to finish the movie.”

He’s teasing you. He wants to push, see how much he can get you to say, if you’ll ask him outright to just touch you the way you want. Warring feelings compete to decide what you do next. Maybe months ago, when you first started dating Eddie, you would have pressed your thighs together and settled in to finish the film. A part of you still calls for that, screams that whatever you say won’t be right. 

You stare at Eddie now. His eyes still lined dark, the smirk he’s trying to hide. Your toes curl just looking at him, and the thought escapes naturally. “You don’t look like Eddie the Chivalrous, right now.” 

Eddie blinks slowly. His head tilts. “No? Who do I look like, then?” 

Now, something like shame creeps back in, and you wish you’d just settled down to watch the movie.

You haven’t ever put a name to it before. In your fantasies, the ones that appear unprompted when you’re alone in your bed and you haven’t been able to touch him in a couple days, Eddie’s always Eddie, but sometimes just a little different. 

Maybe Eddie the Chivalrous is the right name for how you first thought about him like that, calling you Princess as usual but meaning it. You thought about him as your knight and guard, sworn to protect you, breaking all the rules by laying you down and treating you gently, better than any lord or Prince you could be promised to.

Then you’d think about his laugh, the one that comes out when you moan a little loud, or lose your patience and try to direct his hands or his tongue to where you need him. The mocking gasp and teasing tone that often comes along with it, you want it bad, huh, Princess? You think about an Eddie who’s like that all the time, teasingly mean with you, dark and dangerous to everyone else, finding you alone in your soft bed, holding your hands above your head and- and-

People already think you’re weird.

You give in to the sudden hot shame, pressing your face to Eddie’s chest lest he read your expression so perfectly that he works it all out. You whisper into his shirt, more to yourself than him. “I’m so weird.” 

“Well, s’a good thing you’re with me then, mm?” He says, big hand moving to stroke the back of your neck. “Cause if you got a fantasy, like, something you think about when I’m not around. You know I won’t judge you for it, right?” 

“I know.” It comes out muffled against his shirt but it’s certain. It’s instinctual, now. You’re as sure that you don’t need to worry about Eddie judging you as you are that the sun will rise tomorrow morning. More and more, you find yourself talking to him the way you talk to yourself in your head. Easy and free, not waiting for the other shoe to drop. But this is different. “It’s just- It’s like-” You sigh, searching for the words that won’t come. 

He hums, still rubbing your neck. “Maybe I could- I mean, do you…wanna hear one ‘a mine?” You emerge from your hiding place, leaning back into his hand to gauge how serious he is. Eddie’s eyes crinkle at the sides at having coaxed you into looking at him again. “Yeah?”  

“Okay.” 

“Okay,” he echoes. Eddie searches his side for the remote first, pausing Vincent in the middle of another monologue. “Okay. Well, yeah, sometimes I think about- Wait no, gotta set the scene. I’ve just played maybe the best show of my life. Nothing too big,” he continues, giving you a serious look. “I’m not a sell out. We’re talking the smaller arenas, you know? Anyway, after, when I get backstage, feeling like hot shit, there’s this girl. Prettiest I’ve ever seen. And she’s wearing the band’s shirt.”

“And she’s a little shy. Can barely look me in the eye-” He catches you just as your gaze moves to his collar, pulling you back to staring, helpless, into his dark eyes. Eddie takes your hand from where it was playing with the hem of his shirt, weaving your fingers together. “She’s kinda fidgety, too.”

You swallow. “Me?”

“You, sweet thing. S’always you.” You bite the gum behind your bottom lip, holding back from grinning too much. You squirm a little under his gaze, waiting for him to speak again. “And you tell me you’ve been waiting for me,” Eddie says, voice smooth and quiet. “You tell me you’re my biggest fan. And you can’t quite say everything you wanna say, but it doesn’t matter, cause I’ve got you worked out. So I get real close,” he says, his face disappearing as his mouth moves towards your ear, “and I ask if you want me to touch you?”

“And I do,” you continue for him, shivering again at the little groan Eddie lets escape from his throat. 

“Mm hm, real bad.” His eyes reappear, scanning over each part of your face. “So bad you wanna earn it. Wanna show me I was right to pick you and not some other girl. You get on your knees for me.” Eddie licks his lips quick. “And I know you’re kinda inexperienced, but it’s good, the best I’ve ever had. You know why?” You shake your head, gaze darting between his eyes and his mouth. You watch his lips move around his words. “Cause you’re so fucking grateful for it.” 

“Mm. And when I decide you’ve earned it, I lay you back on a couch somewhere. A green room or a tour bus or something. And I show you you were right to wait for me.” You shiver. It’s a delicious thrill to picture Eddie that way, completely new to you, a total stranger, yet so sure of what he can take. “And after that?” He says, giving the back of your neck a squeeze. “I keep you.”

“Eddie.” You feel your heartbeat between your legs, wishing he would touch you there now, or even put you on your knees the way he wants so you could show him you’re as grateful for him here and now as you are in his fantasy. 

The fantasy fades when Eddie kisses you. With the press of his lips, the taste of Dr Pepper on his tongue, he’s your Eddie again, familiar and perfect. You’re still floating back to Earth when he pulls away. “Your turn.”

You flinch, crashing to the ground instead. “What?”

“You like Latin, right? It’s quid pro quo, sweetheart. I show you mine, you show me yours. Tit for tat. That was the deal.”

“It was implied.” Eddie answers breezily. Then, with his thumb rubbing gently at the back of your hand. “C’mon. Try? You liked mine, right?” You give a barely noticeable nod, but Eddie catches it. “Yeah. And I bet I’ll like yours.”

“There was no deal!”

“I can’t- I don’t have it all, like, thought out the way you do.”

“Well, I’m a storyteller by trade,” he says, pressing his free hand to his chest. “All my sex fantasies have lore. And we can build on yours, if it needs it.Alright. I’m not Eddie the Chivalrous right now. Who am I?” He tilts his chin to where you have started playing with his rings, twisting each round his fingers in turn. “Apart from Eddie the Stress Toy.”

“It’s not- You’re just-” You swallow, rubbing your thumb over the metal skull sitting where a wedding ring would go. “You’re just somebody…somebody I shouldn’t want.”

“Intriguing. And you are?” Your face flames. You mumble it, barely opening your lips, and Eddie squints. “Mm?”

You sigh. “Princess.”

“Always,” Eddie replies, ducking his head to make sure you see his face, reassuringly still smiling. “Okay. I can work with this. Maybe I'm…Eddie the Banished. I tried to take power for myself by force but I failed.” He brings your hand to his mouth, kisses the thin skin at your wrist. “And I’ve returned, because I realised I don’t need to win a battle. I just have to…take the Princess?”

You clench around nothing. “Yeah.”

“Fuck, yeah. C’mon, sweet thing.” 

Your gaze follows him as he stands. “You want- Right now?”

“Why not? We’re all dressed up. The time is now.” Eddie pauses his excitement when he registers the fact you’re still sitting. “If…if you want.”

“I do,” you breathe. “But I can’t, y’know, talk like you.” You just know Eddie already has some dialogue thought up, things he can say as the character he’s just come up with that will make you dizzy. “I’ll get stuck.”

“Maybe you will, maybe you won’t,” Eddie says, squatting down in front of you, hands spread out on your knees. “I don’t mind taking the lead. Besides, the Princess would be kinda nervous anyway, right? If you’re not supposed to want me. The outlaw, the traitor. You’ve been told about all the terrible things I’ve done, what I tried to do for power. Now you feel guilty about what you really want from me. And I’ve been thinking about you while I’ve been on the run, living rough- You know, this is good stuff,” he says, interrupting himself and looking round. “You got a pen? I should maybe write some of this down- No. After, sorry.” He gives you a sheepish grin, then leans in close. “Don’t think there’s much chance I’ll forget this, anyway.” 

He stands then, hand extended to you with wiggling fingers for you to take and let him guide you through to his room. Eddie hums when his door is closed, shutting out the world beyond the frame. “Shoulda done this at yours,” he says, sitting you down on the mattress. “In your pretty Princess bed.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you say breathlessly, meaning it entirely. All that matters is it’s him. He’s the only person you could do something like this with. 

“Okay, I need a little more. You shouldn’t want me, I’m…morally grey, let’s say. Chaotic neutral. Am I mean?”

“Kinda,” you answer. “You’re…selfish?”

“Selfish,” he repeats. 

“Just like, y’know. It’s like-” Eddie’s hands spread at the sides of your thighs, teasing the skin at the hem of your skirt. You want them everywhere. “You know I want you. That I’ll…do things for you. And you take advantage. ”

There’s a pause. “I think I’m following. Things somebody like you shouldn’t do?” You nod quickly, cheeks burning as you watch him work it out. “You wanna get your mouth on me, Princess?”

You fight the instinct to hide, the urge to look away, the voice telling you to deny everything, take it back. Instead, you start playing with the hem of his shirt again, soft cotton between your fingers.  

“Mm hm.”

“Shit. Okay. Anything-” His voice cracks a touch, and he clears his throat before he speaks again. “Anything else?”

“It’s not like- Even though you’re mean, you still- With me, you feel-” Now you do have to look away, staring at where your fingers are fiddling with the black fabric. He can read you too well, and you don’t want him to see exactly what you want from him. “You-”

You love me. 

“I feel…how I feel about you?” He suggests.

You bite the gum behind your lip to stop yourself asking exactly what that means. “Yeah.”

“Okay, good. Hard to pretend anything else.” Eddie leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips, long enough that your whole body relaxes into it, your mind settling on Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. When he pulls away, it’s easy to answer his question. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Eddie stands to full height, his shoulders back. He tilts his head, expression shifting. From your Eddie, with chestnut eyes and his perfect, dimpled smile, to a smirking man with a dark gaze excited to ruin you. 

“I’ve been looking for you, Princess,” he says, voice smooth and confident. A thrilled shiver runs up your spine. “Knew I’d find you eventually, but I could only hope I’d find you like this. All alone.” He takes a step towards you. “Unprotected-”

“Eddie,” you whisper. 

Softness peaks through with raised eyebrows. “Good?” You nod quickly, and it disappears again as he slinks closer towards you. “I missed you, while I was away,” he tells you, soft and teasing. “Did you miss me?”

“I-” You swallow. You’re used to repeating back what Eddie says to you, in times like this, letting him guide you through everything he wants to hear from you. But you don’t want to just watch him do this for you. “No.”

Eddie blinks, surprised, then he puts on a mockingly hurt face, hand over his heart. “No? You wound me, Princess.” That same hand reaches for your face, cupping your cheek. His thumb strokes gently under your eye and you can’t help but lean into him. “Or you would, if I believed you.” He tilts your head up to see him properly, standing over you. “You think I didn’t see the way you’d look at me, before I left?”

Your fingers twitch to reach out and brush at the ends of his hair as it falls towards you, but you keep them at your sides on the bed, curling into the sheets. “You didn’t leave, you-”

“Left, banished, driven out; it all comes to the same end, mm?” His eyes scan your face, down your dress and back up. “That’s you and me, Princess. Here, alone together. You gonna pretend you never wanted that?”

His thumb, callused and warm, keeps rubbing over your cheek. “I can’t want it”

“No, you can,” he presses. Eddie, your Eddie, would sit with you now, squat in front of you to talk to you at the same level. Now, his grip on your jaw tightens just enough to remind you that he could stop you looking away if you tried. “Cause I’ve had time to think about it.”

“While you were hiding in the woods?”

“While I was regrouping,” he corrects. “I realised something. I went about it all wrong.” he tells you. “It was foolish of me to try and use force to get what I want. Not when you were right here. Waiting for me.”

His thumb pulls at your bottom lip, then presses inside to the tip of your tongue. 

“If I make you mine, everything else follows. That’s right, isn’t it?” He nods slowly until you copy him. “The throne, power, vengeance on everyone who tried to hold me back. And you, in my bed every night. All day if I wanted.” He pulls at your lip again as he steals his thumb back, leaning in until his breath is warm against your cheeks. “That sounds nice. Doesn't it, Princess?” You glance at his lips, wanting him to kiss you now, to take it from you. Eddie shakes his head, drawing your gaze back to his. “I wanna hear you say it. You wanted me to touch you, just like this, and more, didn’t you? Wanted me to show you how to make me happy?”

You can feel your heartbeat heavy in your chest, your breath coming quicker. Only Eddie could do this, have you convinced of a story which before tonight only existed half formed in the fantasies of your bedroom. You can feel the internal conflict as if it really is your duty to say no, and your heart’s only desire to give your next answer.

“Yes, Eddie.”

He gives you a kiss that’s half teeth, dragging at your bottom lip. Even this is different. You’re used to the gentle start, feeling him smile on your mouth. He breathes deep through his nose, pulls from you so suddenly that you make to follow him until he presses a hand to your shoulder. 

“And I will. Get on the floor.” Eddie steps back, and it doesn’t even occur to argue with him now. You slide off the mattress easily, knees falling to the carpet without looking away from him. There’s a pause. He speaks quietly, as if he doesn’t want an invisible audience to hear. “You comfy? You want the pillow?” 

“No,” you answer, heart aching. “I’m okay.” 

“Okay.”

You watch the way he steels his face again, looking at you on your knees in front of him like that’s where you’re meant to be. His hands work at his belt, a soft hiss escaping when he presses his palm down the front of his pants. His head tilts back, displaying his thick neck, the rising pinkness across his pale throat, and he breathes a laugh. “Now, Princess- Wait!” You jump at the suddenness of Eddie pulling his hand from his pants only to clasp them at his waist as he half-jogs towards the door. “Just a second. Don’t move!” 

Eddie disappears through the door, mumbling to himself. His words are faint but it’s clear enough that he is looking for something. You close your eyes, focusing on his voice, however fuzzy. You never thought you could have something like this. Someone like Eddie. Someone safe. So safe that you can abandon yourself to fulfilling a silly fantasy thought up under the covers of your bed. 

Something catches your hair and you open your eyes to find him standing over you again. The tip of his tongue curls over his top lip as he places the plastic silver tiara just so on your head. When it’s as he wants it, his teeth show with his smile. “Perfect,” he says, pressing two fingers to your chin and turning your head each way. “My Princess, mm? I’m going to show you what it is to be mine.”

Eddie reaches into his pants to pull himself free. His hand drags over the shaft, quick and dirty, just for a moment’s relief if the clench of his jaw the second he stops is any indicator. 

You think you know what to do now, tipping your chin, opening your mouth, ready to take him. Only he angles his head away from your tongue. You peer up at him in confusion, watch the way his excitement plays out on his face. “C’mere, Princess.” 

Cupping your cheek with his spare hand, he guides you to the base of his cock, where he is softest. Your lips graze the fuzzy skin of his balls and Eddie makes a noise that has you squirming for the lightest touch between your legs. You kiss delicately, blinking up at him, watching his thumb rub over the head of his cock, catching wetness to ease the slow movement of his hand. He taps his fingers on your cheek gently. “Open up. Want your tongue.”

Your toes curl. You want to taste him here, aching at the smell of him; like his neck at the end of the day in Summer, his sweat and musk, fading body wash. You want to make Eddie feel good so badly, you think you might do whatever he asks as long as he looks at you the way he is now. 

You reach for him, palm settling on his knee where denim meets exposed skin. Opening your mouth, you lick quickly at the seam of his balls, taste salt on soft skin. He groans, fingers flexing around your jaw. “That’s it,” he encourages. “Fuck yes,” Eddie bites out when you lick broad and wet up to the base of his cock, thinking of his wide tongue drawing upwards from your pussy to your clit. “Fuck, yes.” 

He draws you back, smiling down at you. It makes your face burn, but you struggle between looking him in the eyes and staring at his cock. His balls are pink and wet from your attention, his hand moves steadily over his length, drawing folds of skin over his thick head and back.

“Want you to suck on them a little,” he tells you. The pause he leaves gives a moment for you to squeeze at his knee, as if presenting your open mouth wouldn’t be enough to show your agreement. He drags the weight of his balls over your chin to your wet tongue, listing off curses when your lips close just enough to suck gently. Eddie’s hand moves faster over his length, the curve of his fingers brushing your forehead with each tug.

Eddie’s groans are all that matter now. His sack is heavy, falling past your lips the wider you open your mouth. “So fuckin’ full cause of you,” Eddie bites. You hum, closing your eyes, his hips stutter. First towards the warmth of your mouth and then away entirely, replacing his sack with the head of his cock tapping against your tongue.

Eddie gasps when you lap at his leaking tip. “Can I-” He pauses, rephrases, puts on the right tone. “I’m gonna fuck your mouth now, Princess.” 

He watches you carefully, gives you time to tell him no. You squeeze his knee once more, gaze moving from his dark eyes to his cock. You press a quick kiss to the swollen head, a darker pink than the rest of him where it peeks through folds of skin, then let him press your head back against the mattress. 

Eddie’s cock glides smoothly over your tongue to the top of your throat. “Fuck,” he breathes, rolling his hips. “M’starting to think this is what you wanted the whole time.” He eases further, just past the entrance of your throat. It’s easier, like this. You are more open to him with your head tilted back this way. He holds himself in the warmth of your mouth, watching you blinking back tears to try and keep him clear in your gaze. Finally your throat protests, and Eddie draws back till you can suck at his head, the exposed length of his cock shining with your spit. You gaze at him, wanting him to be proud of you for taking him deeper than you have before. He makes a soft encouraging noise, but Eddie like this won’t give you the validation you want so easily. “Teased me for so long. I think I deserve to take what I want, now.”

Eddie thrusts slowly at first, easing you in despite his words. The hand that was on your cheek now stroking at your heated forehead. 

You like it like this. 

You liked having him in your mouth the first time, and every time after that. Like watching him shake, hearing him groan and whine, and knowing that you’re the one making him like that. You like focusing on him; lick here, nip there, let him feel you moan around him. Now, you don’t even have to think about how best to please him. You can focus on your breathing, taking air in through your nose when he pulls back enough. And on Eddie and how he looks as he takes his pleasure from you. 

Eddie’s so beautiful. His dark hair frizzes around his face, eyes crinkling at the sides when he closes them and groans into the air. His neck is pink, a pretty blush crawling up to his cheeks as his thrusts speed up. “We’re gonna do this all the time, Princess, you hear me?” He grits, fingers curling into the sheets at the side of your head. You moan in answer, pleased when it makes his cock twitch in your mouth, his tip dipping deep enough past the entrance of your throat that you can’t blink away the wetness that springs to your eyes. “You’re gonna be in my bed all the time, maybe I’ll tie you up, mm?” He presses deep again, then holds steady. When the tears collected at the corners of your eyes start to fall, he wipes them away before they can reach the apples of your cheeks. “Keep you here, just for me. Don’t need to see or talk to anyone else ever again.”

If your head weren’t fuzzy, you’d start questioning why that makes you ache. Eddie withdraws his cock from the top of your throat and you only take a second to gasp in the air you need before following him, reaching up to touch the inches of his cock your mouth still can’t quite cover. Eddie laughs through a moan at the feeling of you jerking his cock into your mouth, licking wet at the end of him. “You want that, huh? Hey-” He drags you away from his cock, leaving you with wet, pleading eyes looking up at him. “You want that?” Your mouth opens, then closes. Your hips roll, seeking friction you can’t get while kneeling like this. Eddie’s eyes flick down, lips turning up at the sight. “Get on the bed for me, mm?”

Eddie reaches a hand out to help you sit up on his mattress. Then he pulls his shirt off over the back of his head, exposing all the soft pale skin and dark ink of his torso. You pull your dress up too, knocking your tiara in the process. When the dress is off entirely, Eddie’s there in an instant to fix it for you, his fingers caressing your cheek when he’s done. “Hey, uh. Am I doing alright? Is this the sort of thing you imagined?”

“This is better,” you tell him earnestly, loving how pleased he looks. You’re learning that this, the pleasure gained from praise, is something you and Eddie share. You love it when Eddie calls you good, or smart, or sweet. When he tells you that you’re good at something he’s teaching you. In turn, Eddie likes it when you tell him how good he makes you feel, that he’s doing everything right, that he’s looking after you exactly how you want it. 

He kisses you, and it’s softer this time until he bites gently at your bottom lip as he’s pulling away. “C’mon and lie down, Princess,” he says, guiding you to lay down. You press your legs together, knees bent and feet flat to the mattress as Eddie climbs up after you. His hands stroke up and down your thighs, making you giggle softly as he passes ticklish spots. It relaxes you enough to let him guide your legs open and back, allowing him closer. Eddie tilts his head, thumbing the little blue bow at the waistband of your panties. “You really want me to tie you up?” 

Without thinking, you glance quickly at the handcuffs hanging from his door. You feel the beat of your heart against your chest, wondering if you’re ready for that, knowing really that you’re not. Eddie’s hand cups your cheek, directing your gaze back to him. He kisses your knee. “Not tonight, Princess.” He leans in, whispers. “And only ever if you really want, okay?”

“I know, Eddie,” you answer. And you do. You know that as much as Eddie is teaching you, seemingly leading you along to each new experience, in truth he’s making sure you set the pace. 

“Take this off for me,” he says, pulling at the strap of your bra. You reach underneath your back to unhook it, shimmying it off your arms and letting it drop to his floor. Once you’re settled, he takes both your hands in his, pulling them up over your head. You can’t help but giggle, feeling both nervous and giddy. “Hold onto the headboard?” You follow the instruction, wrapping your fingers around one of the wooden slats. Stretched like this, chest presented to him, you feel open and exposed, your nipples tightening from the cold air and from Eddie’s attention. “Don’t let go, mm?”

He leans down, kissing from the base of your neck down the skin between your breasts, his hair dragging behind him, tickling the sensitive skin. He leaves a wet mark on the curve of your left breast, the sting of his teeth quickly soothed by his tongue. When he takes the tight bud of your nipple between his lips, your whole body tenses. It’s a test of your submission, if you can last with only your memory of what it feels like to tangle your fingers in his hair. If you can bear not to tug at it when he flicks his tongue like that. 

Your hands tighten around the wood, hips tilting to find his cock where he tucked it back in his boxers, still hard and throbbing between your legs. The friction, however light, against where you have been waiting for him all evening, is too good to give up, and you keep searching for his hardness to rub against. 

Eddie releases your breasts with a grin. “You want it bad, huh, Princess?”

You whine, melting when he presses his hips forward to give you more delicious friction along your pussy. He huffs a laugh, sitting up and quickly reaching out for the pack of Trojans on his bedside. You watch him kneel between your legs, the way he fists his cock while he tears at the foil square with his teeth, his desperation to roll the condom over his length. Eddie shuffles forward on his knees and presses his wide hands to the back of your thighs. He gently guides your legs back, hitching your hips up for better access to your pussy, wet and swollen under his gaze.

“Wanted this for so long, Princess,” he says. “You’ve been waiting too, hmm?”

“Yes, Eddie. Been waiting so long.” You nearly cry from relief when his cock latches at your entrance, then from despair when he stills instead of filling you. The headboard creaks from your squirming. “Please,” you whisper, sounding pathetic in a way that would embarrass you if you weren’t aching from the emptiness.

Eddie stretches you perfectly as he presses inside your slick cunt. The tease of pain feels good now that your body recognises what it means, where Eddie filling you up leads. “Good?” He asks, once he’s deep enough inside that the curls of hair above his cock are teasing your clit. 

You mean to answer properly, but the intention is overtaken by the need for him to move. Waiting for him, your fingers tighten around the wood so much you swear there will be marks from your nails. “Eddie.” It comes out whinier than you intended, but he certainly doesn’t mind. 

“Eddie,” he mimics breathily, his teeth showing as the heat of pleasant humiliation crawls up your spine. He doesn’t keep you waiting any longer, snapping his hips to draw back and press deep again through your clenching cunt.

You’ve been under him every time, but like this you feel helpless. Hands voluntarily useless, body tilted up and legs opened by his hands, your body presented to him and positioned perfectly for him to set the pace. It feels right for this - you know now what the romance novels you hide under your bed mean when the heroine is taken. 

Your toes curl when Eddie’s hips roll just right, the heavy head of his cock hitting the end of you. When he reaches between you to press a thumb to your clit and rub in tight circles, your body tilts, hips trying to chase the pleasure, only for Eddie to press you back down to where he wants you.

“I like it,” you answer. “I like it, Eddie.”

“You like it, like this, hm?” Eddie asks. You blink at him slowly, wondering if it’s your boyfriend or Eddie the Banished asking. “Tell me.”

He shakes his head like he can’t believe it, hair shaking. “Knew you would. Pretty Princess just needed to be fucked right, mm?” You shudder, tightening around his cock enough that he gasps, “fuckfuckfuck. S’good. It’s so good, honey.”

You breathe a laugh. “Princess, to you.”

“My apologies,” he says, snapping his hips to land heavy against the spot at the back of your pussy. You gasp, legs kicking out against his grip involuntarily only for him to tighten his grip and push them back to where he wants them. You can hear how wet you are, the sound of him moving inside you as loud as the bed springs, as loud as your moans. “Mine now, aren’t you, Princess?” 

You nod easily. “Yes.”

“Gonna give me everything I want from now on, aren’t you?” 

“Yes. Yes-”

“Made it so easy for me. Should have just done this in the beginning, just taken you for myself.”

“Yes. Yes, Eddie.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, head tilting back as his hips speed up. “Fuck, I can’t- Can’t get enough of that.” When he looks back to you, the detached, mocking look is gone. He’s all intensity and warmth, your Eddie again. Your whole body tightens. “Tells me everything I need to know when you say my name like that.” He gives you a mean thrust, tongue peeking out as he watches where you’re connected, the slick coating his cock, before his gaze returns to your pleasured, sweaty face. “You’re so fucking good, you know that? So fucking good, the way you talk to me. Telling me what you want. Not gonna hide anything like that from me again, are you?”

“Nuh,” you manage, legs twitching. “Eddie.” 

”Again,” he gasps. “Please. My sweet girl-”

“Eddie. Eddie-”

Maybe you keep chanting his name, maybe you cry it out, maybe you stop altogether to scream out instead. You don’t know. You just know he’s all you’re thinking of as the pleasure crests, spreading out from the back of your cunt through your body until it’s intense enough you think you might cry. Then it fades to the gentle delight of Eddie still moving inside you, the warmth and weight of his cock when he buries himself deep. You hear him groan, feel the potential for bruises blooming where his fingers dig into your thighs. Then it’s his weight easing down on top of you, the ache in your shoulders and your legs as you let them relax before wrapping yourself around him.

You finally get your hands in his hair. The roots are damp from sweat, his curls tangled in knots. Eddie’s face is pressed so fully to the space between your breasts that you’re not convinced he can be breathing. He mumbles something that’s lost to your ears, then tilts his head up till you can see his face, and his goofy smile. Your heart aches even as you giggle. Then he’s crawling up your body to kiss you, his mouth warm and tasting like the sweat from his upper lip. 

“I’m gonna pull out now but I want it known that it’ll take amazing strength of will on my part.” 

He does so, disappearing from the bed for less than five seconds to throw out the condom before flopping next to you again and opening his arms to let you clamber into his hold again, you try to fight the rising worries by pressing your face into his neck. He hisses at the scrape of the plastic tiara under his chin, taking it off himself before returning to stroke at your temple with his fingers.  “How do you feel, sweet girl?”

It takes you a minute to answer, sorting through all the complicated feelings that emerged the second Eddie wasn’t inside you anymore. “Good,” you murmur. Then, “weird.” 

You hate how fast it all happens so soon after something so special. You feel overwhelmed and tired, like you want to scrub yourself raw under hot water, like you want to curl up in Eddie’s arms and smell like him forever. You feel like you don’t want to ever be touched again, but the thought that Eddie won’t makes your heart sore. You wish you were normal. You wish you didn’t have weird fantasies. You wish you didn’t feel guilty about what you want. 

Eddie holds you tight against him, and you let yourself feel the comfort of that. Eddie doesn’t think you’re weird, or gross, or immoral. Eddie won’t ever leave you alone to cry and scratch at your crawling skin. 

He presses his lips to your forehead, mumbles against your skin. “Gonna let me look after you?”

He keeps you with him while he runs a bath. You’re wrapped in a towel while he runs around naked, giving you mock coquettish looks over his shoulder every now and then until he gets a giggle from you. As steam starts to rise from the tub, he searches through the cabinet under the sink before emerging with a bottle filled with suspiciously bright orange liquid. “We don’t have bubble bath but, uh, this is six-in-one.” 

You try sitting in the water together, wrapped up in him, but the pins and needles come too fast, eight limbs not quite fitting as they should. You end up facing him, legs tucked up to your chest, watching the water drip from dark ends of his hair. 

“Not as romantic as I’d hoped,” he says.

“It’s okay. I like looking at you.”

His dimples show. Sweetest boy on Earth. He splashes at you a little, waiting for you to smile before talking. “Feeling better?” 

“Much,” you answer honestly. Somewhere between giggling at Eddie rushing to his bedroom to fetch towels for you both, a hair tie for you, with his hands covering the crack of his ass while leaving his dick uncovered and him quietly insisting on taking the side of the tub with the tap at his back, the grey cloud hanging over you faded. “Cause of you,” you say, splashing him back. 

Eddie smiles, resting his face against his knee. “Is there anything I can do, you know, to make it better, like, before it happens?” He reaches for your hand in the water. “Cause it hasn’t, in a while. I know that this was, like, different, but if I did something-”

“No,” you interrupt. “It wasn’t you.” Eddie lets that sit for a while, waiting for you to continue. “When it’s just me and you, it’s like-” You swallow. “Sometimes I feel like I’m being really, actually myself for the first time in my whole life.” Eddie’s eyes are so soft, looking at you now. “And I know that you won’t ever judge me for…my fantasies, or whatever. But then it’s like, it’s almost like- Like without even wanting to, I imagine what other people would say, if they knew the stuff I told you. If they saw how I am, when it’s just us. And then I just feel like, even though they’re not there, it’s ruined it.”

Eddie squeezes your hand, sighs with his whole body. “That sounds exhausting.”

Tears prick in your eyes even as you laugh without real mirth. “It is.”

“Well, you know this stuff really is always going to be just me and you. Right?” 

“I know, Eddie.”

“I wish I could fix it for you, sweet thing.”

You close your eyes tight, trying to force back the tears. You swallow the lump in your throat, thinking, me too. Instead, you sigh, remind yourself that however hard it is now, you’re sure it used to be worse. Before you had Eddie and his humour, his touch, his kindness. “You make it better, Eddie. I promise.”

He’s perfectly gentle with you the rest of the evening, curling back up with you on the couch when you’re dry to restart Theatre of Blood. You let yourself sink into his chest, playing with his rings. You are just about engrossed in the story again, watching with sick fascination as the first critic is stabbed like Julius Caesar. Then, a thought suddenly occurs.

“Did…did you say the soap was six-in-one?”

“Sure did,” Eddie answers. “Face, body, hair, laundry, pets and dishes.”

“That’s why it smells like the terrier next door.”

Eddie hums, lifts your hand to his face and sniffs. “You mean that’s why we smell like the terrier next door.”

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

01/15/2024 Crew Recap

Hey all, today has been a very very very long day. I’m typing this with my eyeballs glazed over and half open. However, so much has happened in such a little amount of time I wanted share a few things before I pass out I know a lot of you are in different timezones, are busy with life, and taking a break, so maybe this will help with parsing through some of the crazy stuff the crew has been up to.

The petition hit 50K, and is at 52.5K at the moment

Fundraisers: I didn’t even realize there were two different fundraisers for Palestine/Gaza going on but we blew both out of the water. (Note: the second picture is from a November campaign but I think its just as important to highlight— ty for the correction anon!)

The Emmys hashtag turn out was great tonight. There was some pretty amazing and creative stuff going on across all the platforms. Some can be seen on IG, but if you wanna see the majority of it, check out twitter #SaveOFMD #75thEmmys

---We have new ways of protesting and advocating for our show, see here for the thread on tumblr (from twitter):---

And to support that @saltpepperbeard was kind enough to put together a wonderful guide on how to Call It Through as a Crew: Alleviating Some Phone Anxiety which as someone who is socially anxious and sometimes verbally vomits on people when on the phone, is AMAZING and thank you so much for doing that to help.

-- > There is also this new thread on some new places to call into. Don't quote me on that being an official thing we should do, I'm sure @renewasacrew and others will have more in the AM, I just wanted to share it so people could follow if they wanted to.

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New Articles!

Our Flag Means Death: Here’s why season three deserves to be aired

Petition to save BBC show with rare Rotten Tomatoes score gets 50,000 signatures

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There's so much more that's happened today-- but I can't write it all down because my brain is couscous.

<---So instead, I'm going to use this last part to gush over you all and your amazing contributions in all your unique ways. The community support the last few days has been SO INCREDIBLY UPLIFTING.-->

I saw (and experienced) people reblogging asks where random followers, anons, and mutuals just reached out and sent love because they could tell people were struggling.

I've seen comments all over the place on Tumblr, IG, Twitter, and Facebook where each and every person is encouraging each other to speak their mind, or complimenting their artwork, encouraging them if they were feeling uncomfortable with things outside their comfort zones, coming up with new and exciting ways to fight back, people reaching out to the cast/crew just to say hi and remind them we love them.

I've seen Self-Care checkpoints all over, reminding people to drink water, take a break, block your notifications for a while, not engaging in negative behavior.

I've seen people being so nice on instagram posts that the people who were being dicks about all our comments turned around and decided to watch OFMD!

I saw so many people doing new analysis of scenes and characters, and having really deep and friendly discussions that make everyone think in new ways.

I saw people digging through old tumblrs to bring life back to old posts and artwork.

I saw so much NEW artwork, new FICS! New GIFS! So much new art and love!

I could literally go on and on, but I've just...I had to dump this out of my brain otherwise I'd explode. I've just seen so much today that continues to make me so proud of our little safe space ship and so happy to be apart of this community.

You all continue to be the best of the best of humans, and I am so very grateful to get to witness and be apart of it. Rest up lovelies and have a good day / night, wherever you may be. May you dream of sexy middle-aged gay men kissing, or hugging, or whatever else you want them to be getting into.