#MERRY CHRISTMAS I'M BACK FROM THE DEAD

[flightyalrighty]

FIRST | PREVIOUS | NEXT CH 1 PG 36

Infested will return on June 27th. --- Thank you to the following Ascended supporters: @chaogongoozles, @fiiresiidefrfr, @elizard4227, @grogar, Ezzoh, @susivoi, @calculuscacophony, Eros, @ivycorp, @summersdale @borrelia, @mizukiz, @sanicdetails, @combinegrunt-echo-1, Pica, @veeceear, @quackenburt, ItsmeMonarch, @memendoemori, @trans-girl-sonic, & savarsenic

Content Warnings | Store | Ko-Fi (Discord!) | Read On Comic Fury! DISCLAIMER: "Infested" is a horror comic ft. content not suitable for those under the age of 17.

A long-winded looking back on things below the cut:

The first few pages of Infested were uploaded to this blog on March 2nd, 2023 -- Over a whole year ago! I was so busy, too, that I completely missed its birthday (Sorry Infested). Looking even further back than that, the original story was was something I began writing on December 25th, 2022 (Merry Christmas).

It took two years to get to this point.

And hey, not to toot my own horn about it, but completing even one chapter of a webcomic is a big deal. Especially for me. My first webcomic, Fight/Flight, didn't get very far. I completed the prologue, started Chapter 1, and then had to drop it for a number of reasons (I didn't really agree with what baby-me had to say, politically, anymore).

This comic was born from a lot of intense feelings. The story, itself, too. Some good. Some bad.

I had been forced to move away from my hometown, and with that move, I lost the physical connection that I had to all of my friends. I lost the familiarity of a place I'd known for most of my life. I'm now stuck somewhere... Worse. It felt like a cage. Still does. Disconnected from the life I thought I would be living after college. I didn't have health insurance, either -- Got kicked off of it because of the move -- And as a result, I was off my antidepressants.

So there I was, at a pretty low point in my life. I miserable and lonely and every single day dragged on. And on. And on. And I felt so disappointed in myself. That disappointment became self-loathing, and it all kinda spiraled.

Have I mentioned that I'm a huge Sonic fan? I don't think I need to. I'd say it's pretty obvious. But for the sake of this story, I'll say it again: I'm a HUGE Sonic fan. I've been that way since 2003 with Sonic Heroes. The franchise has been in my life for over two decades. I had a monthly mail subscription to Archie's Sonic the Hedgehog. Sonic the Hedgehog was something that I truly loved more than any other piece of media. It brought me endless joy. Until I didn't.

I had dropped Sonic after Lost World was... Itself. I had already felt pretty irritated with the Meta Era, and Lost World was the final straw. The last bit of hope that the series could recover was snuffed out when Forces was released. It was over. I was done. If Sonic was truly that embarrassed by itself, if they had truly lost touch with what made the series so great, then I wouldn't waste my time any longer. I was so sure that I had to just... Grieve and move on. My beloved childhood game series was dead. Long live the king or whatever. I'd just bitterly read IDW Sonic and think about what could've been. I was lucky to have that comic, at least. Archie had been canceled, too, after all. I was lucky to have my scraps.

Then Sonic Frontiers came out. And it changed everything.

And my god, it was everything. It was everything to me. Flaws be damned, it was everything. To. Me. The spectacle. The serious tone. The vastly improved writing. Kellin Fucking Quinn. It was FUN! It was actually FUN to PLAY. He was back. I was back. Sonic pulled me by my hand out of the ocean of misery I'd fallen into, and he looked me in my eye and he said;

"Hey. You're gonna be alright."

Metaphorically speaking. Sonic The Hedgehog didn't actually literally speak to me -- And sure, okay, maybe it's a little dramatic to describe a game as this great Depression Annihilator but I'm dead serious when I say that, for that time, before I was able to get back on my meds, I was self-medicating with Sonic.

Sonic was all I was thinking about. I reread the Unleashed arc in Archie Sonic, which got me sorta realizing something, and which led to my post where I said something along the lines of "Sonic would hide a zombie bite."

Archie Sonic would, at least. Because he basically did do that in the Unleashed arc of that comic. He let that problem fester until it became an even bigger problem because, ironically, he didn't want to be a problem.

So one thing led to another. I thought more about Sonic becoming a zombie. Bada-bing, bada-boom, Infested was born.

I didn't expect it to get the attention that it did. I felt lucky when the first page I drew Rouge on (Page 6 I think?) blew up. The right people saw it at the right time. I'm extremely grateful for that.

I'm extremely grateful for all of you.

So yeah, one chapter. Woo! Here's to many more.

[evilwickedme]

Fuck it I'm bored so here's a ranking of different Peter Parkers by how Jewish they are

Dead last, obviously, is MCU!Peter Parker. This version of Peter is the farthest from comic canon to the point of being almost unrecognizable at times. Also, Tom Holland answered the question "is peter parker Jewish" in a Wired Autocomplete Interview a while back with a very baffled "no", cementing him forever as my sworn enemy. So he's actually the only peter parker who, at least by word of God, is canonically NOT Jewish. -1000000/10

Next up is Tobey Maguire's Peter Parker. I think this Peter is... fine, at least he's much closer to comic canon than MCU!Peter, but honestly that's not saying much considering how far the MCU strayed from comic canon or even the spirit of comic canon. But like overall, Sam Raimi's movies just aren't particularly interested in presenting Peter as Jewish, so, eh. 1/10

By far the most Jewish of live action Peters is TASM!Peter, also by far the most comic accurate of live action Peters. I'd be remiss not to mention the fact that Andrew Garfield is Jewish, and he understands the character so fucking well. He stated on record that he played Peter as Jewish and that he sees Spider-Man as an inherently Jewish character:

However, the Webb movies still do not textually define him as Jewish, and the best parts of Andrew's Peter's Jewish subtext are better when viewed in light of the comics. Overall, 6.5/10

Next up is the original, our beloved comic book Peter, pictured here saying Happy Hanukkah in a panel from Matt Fraction's Hawkeye. Comic Peter is one of the most heavily Jewish coded comics characters of all time, which is saying something considering how Jewish comic books are as a medium. Obviously he was created and often written and drawn by Jewish writers and artists, but beyond that his driving ethos and values are incredibly Jewish, and as a bonus he's constantly sprinkling Yiddish and Jewish phrases into his speech, alongside things like the above panel where he outright acknowledges Jewish culture in a scene where everyone else is saying merry Christmas. However, despite the extremely heavy coding, Marvel Comics are fucking cowards, and he has yet to be confirmed Jewish, so I must give him a measly 8/10.

Finally, the cream of the crop, the most Jewish of all Peter Parkers, Into the Spider-Verse's Peter B. Parker my beloved!!! Peter B. is voiced by Jake Johnson, himself a Jewish actor, and is a phenomenally accurate representation of comic book canon - but he also has the unique quality of being canonically, textually, in the actual movie Jewish! It's a bit of a blink and you'll miss it scene, but when we get introduced to Peter B. in his "one more time" segment, we see his wedding to MJ, where he steps on a glass. This is a Jewish minhag - custom - meant to represent the destruction of our Temple and Jerusalem, as well as remind us that sorrow and joy come intertwined, and is one of my personal favorite Jewish customs. It's a phenomenal moment in the best Spider-Man movie, and while this version of Peter would have been my favorite film version regardless, his Jewishness absolutely pushes him even further up. 13/10, no complaints

[avatar-anna]

Hello! I was wondering if you got a request i sent recently? 🤔 it was about dad!harry with Y/N and the girls having their periods all synced up (if you did and didn’t like it that’s totally fine too!!)

Merry and Bright

Young Dad! Harry x Young Mom! Reader Universe

Merry Christmas from your favorite fictional family! They're all grown up in this one! Enjoy!xx

*.*

When Harry woke up with a small foot in his face, he knew he shouldn't have been surprised, but he was.

He blinked slowly, trying to remember if he and his wife went to bed alone or not. Looking to his side, he saw Y/n sound asleep with her back facing him, a small body in pajamas that matched every member of this family's—cream colored with decorated sugar cookies on them—stretched horizontally across the bed, hence the foot in his face.

Looking at the clock by his bed, Harry's brows raised. It was just after eight, rather late for Christmas morning, though most of the kids were a little older now, and Charlie notoriously slept like the dead despite being five. Still, he expected, maybe even missed, being woken up before the sun came up on Christmas morning because Santa had come and presents had to be opened right away.

Waking up with a little foot in the face or with multiple bodies bouncing on the bed, he wasn't sure which he preferred.

"The morning I don't wake up with a limb in my face could not come soon enough," he grumbled to himself anyway, carefully trying to move his sleeping daughter into a more comfortable position, only to end up with Charlie sprawled across his chest entirely, one hand holding onto a strand of his hair by his ear.

"You should've thought about that before you went and got me pregnant again."

Harry blew out an amused breath. Clearly, Y/n was not as asleep as he thought she was. He tugged a strand of her hair that was splayed across her pillow. "You were all for it at the time."

"I'm not the one complaining about the—Oh," Y/n hissed, her shoulders tensing a little.

Concerned, Harry shifted their still-sleeping daughter in the space between him and Y/n so he could shuffle closer to his wife. He rested a hand on her back and kissed the top of her head. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, just cramps. I'll be fine in a minute," she said as she began to shuffle out of bed.

Harry moved his hand to her shoulder to push her back onto the bed. He handed the five-year-old over to Y/n, who immediately curled into her mother's arms. "I'm sorry, love. Why don't you hold onto this little nugget while I get your heating pad."

"It's okay, H. Everyone will be up soon, and—"

"Let me take care of Christmas waffles. You can come down when Charlie wakes up, okay?"

His love smiled sleepily at him before taking his hand in hers and kissing it. "You're too sweet."

"Remember that the next time you're annoyed with me," Harry said with a chuckle. With a kiss to her forehead, he said, "Merry Christmas, my love," then slipped into a robe and left the room.

After getting Y/n's heating pad and making sure Y/n and Charlie were comfortable in bed, he went about getting his day started. He knew he was in for a long day, so he set out to make their traditional big Christmas breakfast for the whole family—waffles, bacon, cut-up fruit, and hot cocoa. He lit up the Christmas tree and turned on the train track he and Julian had been setting up since Jules was seven years old, ensuring everything was ready for when everyone filed down to open presents. Year after year, Christmas morning began later and later. Honestly, Harry thought he would come to appreciate sleeping in an extra couple of hours, but he often found himself missing the days when all of his babies were living at home and opened Christmas presents at six in the morning.

There were perhaps fifteen minutes of peace before Harry could hear sounds of life upstairs. It was like a small wave, a shuffling of feet and the rush of water as his children began brushing their teeth, then there was the thunderous sound of feet rushing down the stairs as the realization that it wasn't an ordinary morning struck. GiGi and Natalia were the first ones to skid to a halt downstairs, excited smiles on their faces as they beheld the small mountain of gifts under the Christmas tree and the smell of waffles coming from the kitchen.

"Merry Christmas!"

Natalia bounded over to Harry, jumping into his arms. He had a split second to set his batter-covered spoon down to catch her. "Merry Christmas, Peanut. Did you wake everyone up yet?"

"Almost," Geneva said as she picked at the bowl of fruit on the kitchen counter. "Simone said we can't wake her up until nine."

"Ah. I see," Harry said, knowing full well that his oldest daughter had been out late with her friends last night. "Well, why don't you go and tell her that I'm going to give away her presents and her waffle if she doesn't come down soon."

Natalia and Geneva grinned devilishly, very much on board with bugging their older sister. They scurried back upstairs, giggling to each other as they did so.

Julian was the next to come down, his light brown hair was wet and curly from his shower, a small frown on his face from the early wake-up call. "Collette threw a shoe at me for taking all the hot water."

Harry knew there was probably more to it than that, so he just ruffled his only son's hair affectionately as Jules passed him by the stove. "Be patient, Jules, they're—"

"Going through a lot, I know," he said, shaking his head a little. "Doesn't mean I had to get a shoe thrown at me for it. On Christmas, no less."

Harry gave Jules a pointed look, not completely buying his son's innocence. At his stare, Julian suddenly found the growing stack of waffles Harry was plating very interesting, a small blush on his cheeks.

As the only two boys in the house, Harry and Jules were often on an island of their own, especially one week each month. Over the years, Harry would take Julian and the little ones out of the house for a couple hours when it felt like the two of them were against the rest of the house. Julian didn't mind the occasional quarreling and mood swings that his sisters displayed as much as other brothers might, but Harry knew that his son's patience had its limits. Especially on Christmas morning.

"Go be the favorite child and take this up to your mum, will you?" Harry said, handing over a plate piled high with food.

Scoffing jokingly, Julian said, "Please. I've always been Mom's favorite."

*.*

Harry didn't normally complain about the state of his home, but right now he felt like he was living in a madhouse. Or a landmine.

The key was understanding what made the girls tick—what their symptoms were, what they typically craved, who had a tendency to cry at the drop of a hat. When it was just Y/n, Harry cuddled her in bed, brought her painkillers, and kissed her whenever she needed him to. And then it was Y/n and Simone, and Harry was caring and understanding toward both of them. And then suddenly he was in a house with five women who all got their period at the same time.

The day had gone rather smoothly so far. Everyone eventually trickled down the stairs to eat breakfast and open presents, and the house was soon flooded with wrapping paper, bows, and discarded gift boxes. Harry smiled from ear to ear the whole time as his kids opened their gifts. Even though he could afford to spoil each and every one of his kids every day of the week, Y/n wouldn't let him. She compromised with birthdays and Christmas, but Christmas was when Harry put out all the stops. All year he would plan and plan, ask for Christmas lists months in advance, and spend hours shopping. Y/n used to sigh exasperatedly at her husband's antics, but in the end, she finally let it go. Christmas shopping was one stressor that wasn't on her plate, and she wasn't going to complain about that anymore.

"GiGi, darling, you have to start getting ready for the recital," he said through the door to his daughter's room. Geneva still got embarrassed about getting her period, and now was definitely one of those times.

"I'm not going!"

Harry sighed but decided to move on for now. Y/n would be able to get GiGi dressed and ready to go better than he could, which stung, but he got over it somewhat after his first two daughters. And there were a number of things he could be taking care of to make sure they got out of the house on time, anyway.

When he got back downstairs, Julian, Y/n, and Charlie were in the kitchen, all dressed in their Christmas best. Y/n was straightening the collar of Julian's dress shirt while Charlie clung to his back. Harry made a beeline for his wife, kissing the back of her head as he snaked a hand around her waist.

"You look beautiful," Harry said softly, his thumb rubbing the silky material of her satin skirt.

"What about me, Daddy?"

Harry looked at his youngest daughter. Her hair was done up in a tight bun, most likely done by Y/n, and she was already dressed in her leotard and tights. The only thing missing was the matching sparkly tutu and snowflake hairpiece, but that would come later.

"You look wonderful," Harry said. "You excited for tonight?"

Charlie nodded excitedly, her broad grin nearly identical to her mother's save the dimples in her cheeks. "JuJu's been helping me with my dance.

"It's nothing," Julian said, who was now holding Charlie on his hip since Y/n was done fixing his dress shirt and doing up his tie. Charlie giggled, which made him offer her a small high-five. They were an unusual pair considering their age difference, but Julian loved doting on his littlest sister. And molding her into his little sidekick. "First ones ready though, weren't we, Charlie?"

Y/n shot Julian a look, knowing he was teasing his sisters. Normally, she didn't mind so much, but there were a lot of ever-changing emotions running through the house currently, and it was easier to keep the peace than put out a fire. To Harry, she said, "The girls are getting dressed. Collette wanted to film, but I made sure she gave herself enough time to be ready otherwise she'd have to drive separately. And Maeve was lacing up her shoes when I checked in.”

Nodding, Harry asked, "Can you go talk to Gi? She's...not eager to leave the house."

"Already on it," Y/n said, ruffling Julian's hair as she walked by, which he immediately swatted.

"Do you want to practice at all before we leave?" Harry asked, turning to the youngest member of his family. He wasn't totally surprised that they were spending their Christmas evening at a holiday dance recital, seeing as this was one in a long line of pageants and concerts, but Charlie seemed the most committed to dance out of all his children, even at just five years old. To Harry, it felt like they'd gone to every match, game, meet, and recital possible. Between the seven kids, there was no sport or extracurricular left unturned, but he was often fond of watching his kids perform on a stage of any kind.

Charlie nodded excitedly, shimmying down from Julian's hip. "I've been practicing really hard!"

"She has. Her pirouette is flawless," Jules said with a serious nod of his head.

"Alrighty, let's see it, peanut," Harry said, kissing her forehead.

It wasn't a long routine. Charlie was five, after all. There was a lot of choreographed walking, a couple turns and leaps, and arms spread out wide and above her head. Harry was sure there would be a handful of mess-ups during the performance, and one child would probably end up crying backstage, but Harry, along with the rest of the Styles clan, would cheer for the youngest member of their family as if they were watching a professional ballet performance.

By the time Charlie finished showing Harry, and Julian her routine, more of the family had found their way downstairs. Simone shuffled around in her slippers, a pair of heeled boots in her hands, Natalia and Geneva trailing behind her with matching French braids in their hair, Y/n bringing up the rear. Geneva seemed to be in much better spirits than when Harry spoke to her, which he could only be thankful for. He and his wife were a team after all, and they didn't keep score on parental abilities and duties. Not anymore, anyway, but it had all been in good fun.

"Collette's just finishing up Maeve's hair," Simone said, going over to stand by her brother.

"Perfect," Harry said, checking his watch, a brand new gift from Y/n. There was an inscription on the back with the date, which nearly made Harry cry when he saw it. To my greatest love, it read, with seven little Xs to represent each of their children. "We're right on schedule."

"Since when have we ever followed a schedule?" Simone asked.

"You haven't heard? Dad's gone full-on dance mom," Julian said. "All the other moms in Charlie's class are in love with him because he stays and watches her rehearsals every week."

Simone's brows raised, no doubt a tease for her father poised on her lips, but Harry was quick to interject. "That's not true!"

"It's a little true, baby," Y/n said, coming over to kiss him on the cheek. Even in his late thirties, her husband was undeniably handsome. She'd given up on having feelings about people openly oggling her husband years ago. She knew Harry would never be interested in anyone else. They could look, but never touch, and that was enough for Y/n. "But you're still the best dance-dad ever."

"We're ready!"

Collette and Maeve bounded down the stairs curled to perfection as it bounced with each step. Harry noticed that Collette was wearing an old sweater from his closet, probably one she'd nabbed while he was on a trip, but he decided not to comment on it. He saw the look on his wife's face, though. Y/n's expression was soft as if she was recalling a memory from years ago.

Squeezing her hand once, Harry began ushering everyone out of the house and into the car. Two cars, actually. Driving separately was a common occurrence when the family was all together. Y/n and Harry learned rather quickly that arguments were less likely to break out if the kids weren't packed together in the back seats like sardines. So Harry and Y/n took the twins and Charlie in one car, and Simone drove Collette, Geneva, and Natalia in the other.

Harry sometimes couldn't quite believe that his little girl was in college, let alone driving on her own places. In a lot of ways, Harry and Simone had grown up together as he learned how to become a father at such a young age while simultaneously trying to raise a baby with Y/n. He'd grown up wanting to give his daughter the world, and as he watched her slide into the front seat of her car, one that she bought with her own money after saving up for the last couple years, smiling and laughing at something one of her younger sisters said, he could only hope he'd fulfilled that wish.

Later on, Harry was backstage with Charlie. Her snowflake headpiece was an immovable force on her head, her cheeks sparkled with a little glitter that all the other little snowflakes were wearing as part of their costume, and her white tutu sparkled under the lights of the school auditorium they were in. Charlie had a small pout on her face as she shifted nervously from foot to foot, her big eyes wide as the nerves settled in.

"You're gonna do great, peanut," Harry assured, his gaze level with hers as he knelt down on the floor. "Don't tell anyone I said this, but you're the best ballerina here."

"Really?" A small smile threatened to break through Charlie's nervous frown, and Harry knew she would be ready to go out and perform any minute now.

"Really," he promised, kissing her cheek. Charlie's cheeks had been adorably round when she was a baby, but most of the baby fat had disappeared now that she was a little older, but Harry still thought she would be the cutest, most talented dancer out on that stage tonight. "And even if you do mess up, or if you forget a step, I'm still gonna be so proud of you. We all will be. Okay? If you get nervous out there, look for me."

"Okay, Daddy."

Harry figured Charlie was as ready as she'd ever be. "Alright then. Give your dad one last squeeze."

Charlie lept into Harry's arms, squeezing him for all she was worth. He held her close, careful not to smush the glittery tutu between them. Only letting go when she began to wriggle around in his arms, Harry stood up and walked Charlie to where the rest of the little snowflakes were standing as they waited to go onstage. She wouldn't let him leave until the very last minute, only letting go of his hand when her dance teacher it was nearly time for them to start. Harry gave her one last kiss on top of her head before heading to his seat where the rest of his family was waiting.

It was a good turnout. His and Y/n's parents were in the row behind Y/n and the kids, along with one of Harry's old bandmates who happened to be in town for the holidays. Harry didn't get to see them as much as he would've liked these days, but he knew that any of them would drop any and everything for his kids. Just a few years ago, they all showed up for Simone's high school graduation.

"Everything okay back there?" Y/n asked as Harry settled down in his seat.

He took her hand in his and set it in his lap, his thumb grazing over hers absentmindedly. "Should be. Gave her a pretty good pep talk if I do say so myself."

Y/n scoffed playfully, knowing full well that Charlie was one hundred percent a "daddy's girl." Before she could say anything, though, Harry's mother leaned forward in her seat to ask about their post-recital dinner plans, and shortly after that, the lights dimmed and the performances began.

When it was done, the small section dedicated to Charlie's biggest fans cheered loudly, not caring that phones were turned in their direction or that they were maybe being too loud for a kindergarten dance recital. None of that mattered to Harry as Charlie beamed at them from the stage as she took a final bow, waving at her family excitedly.

At the end of the night, as Harry and Y/n got into bed, he couldn't help but grin at another perfect Christmas completed. It was off to an unusually slow start, and there was definitely potential for tears and arguments, but he couldn't have been more pleased by how everything turned out.

There was a time when even though Harry loved Christmas with Simone, then Simone and Collette, and so on, he somewhat mourned the idea of a Christmas with just Y/n. Because they had their daughter so young, he and Y/n never had the opportunity to enjoy the holidays just by themselves. It would've been nice, but Harry wouldn't change his experiences for the world, and he eventually didn't even want to think about what Christmas without his family looked like. Those memories were too precious to regret or want to change, and he knew Y/n felt the same.

"Another perfect Christmas for the books," he said as he climbed into bed next to Y/n, just half of their family Christmas pajamas on. He tended to do away with a shirt if he thought he and Y/n could get away with sleeping by themselves without any midnight intruders.

"Mm. I'd say so," Y/n agreed as she snuggled up to Harry's side. "Charlie was so good tonight, wasn't she?"

Harry's heart swelled with pride at the thought of his daughter's performance tonight. "Definitely a career there if she wants one."

"Easy there," his wife chuckled. "She's only five."

Harry merely nodded, but he was already thinking about the future Charlie's talent could give her. He didn't care if that did make him somewhat of a "dance mom," he just wanted his kids to be happy, and if a dance career was what Charlie wanted, then Harry would do everything he could to help her get there.

"I do have one more gift."

"Really?" Harry couldn't think of anything else he could possibly need, but he watched curiously as Y/n shuffled away from him to root around her nightstand for something. When she found it, she sat up to face him better.

With wide eyes, Harry stared as she opened up a small velvet box, a sleek metal band inside it. He couldn't even form words as he looked at it, eyes suddenly welling up with tears he didn't want to shed until Y/n explained.

"Maybe I should've done this at dinner tonight with our parents and the kids, but I wanted this moment to just be ours," she said, cheeks turning a little pink. "I—I know we're already married, but that was seventeen years ago, H. Can you believe that?"

"I don't know where the time's gone," he breathed. They were the first words that came to mind.

"Time flies when you get me pregnant six times," she teased, reaching out a hand to cup his cheek. Her thumb moved across his skin, wiping away a tear he didn't even realize had fallen. "But I just thought now that our family is officially complete. And I really do mean that. We could renew our vows or something. Usually that sort of thing is reserved for special anniversaries, but the timing feels right, and I found out I was pregnant when I was seventeen, so—"

"It's perfect," Harry said.

Y/n looked up at him nervously, as if he would've disagreed for some reason. "Really?"

"Yes, Mama. This is—This is the best gift you've ever given me. Outside those precious little humans in our house right now," Harry said, adding the last part as an afterthought. "I can't think of a better way to end my Christmas."

Harry let Y/n slide the ring onto his finger. Y/n had had a small band for a long time now, an anniversary gift to commemorate their small wedding all those years ago. Harry couldn't wear one at the time because their relationship, along with the rest of his family, was a heavily guarded secret, and a band on his left ring finger would draw way too many questions.

But their relationship wasn't a secret anymore, and while they did their best to stay out of the limelight, Harry had no problem with wearing the ring. He would get something for Y/n too. He'd always wanted to get her a big ring, one that signified just how much he loved and appreciated and admired her, both as his partner and the mother of his children. Now was the perfect opportunity.

"You really outdid yourself this year, Mama," Harry murmured, sliding a hand into her hair to cup one side of her face.

"Would you believe me if I told you that I was partially drawn to the idea after thinking we could have a honeymoon afterward?" she said, a small smirk on her face.

"You've really thought this through, huh?"

Y/n kissed Harry on the lips. A peck, really, and he suddenly needed much more. "Mmhm. Want to hear the details now or later?"

Later, definitely later, Harry thought, but he opted to just kiss his wife instead.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Everyone's ages:

Harry: 39

Y/n: 39

Simone: 20

Collette: 17

Twins: 16

Geneva: 12

Natalia: 11

Charlie: 5

[sunoorintarou]

Catharsis: Christmas Special

Phos!Reader x Teen!Gojo Satoru and Teen!Geto Suguru

Warnings: Gojo - centric, usual angst, fluff if you squint, major character death, dead bodies, set in 2006, lots of talks of politics, death, murder, trauma, morals, etc, borderline bullying? (Satoru is a jerk), self - blaming, grief, and all it's stages, trouble processing and understanding emotions, Gojo is seriously just his own warning

Notes: Merry Christmas!!!

"You're weak. Why do you bother being a sorceror?"

Satoru's words make you freeze, eyes widening at their bluntness. He doesn't react, however, because in his mind, he's simply telling you the truth.

You're weak. He's known that from the moment you set foot in this classroom almost three months ago.

He doesn't understand why Suguru and Shoko seem so fond of you. All you do is get into trouble, injure yourself, and make it everyone's problem to save you. You can't fight, your Cursed Technique is subpar, not to mention that you're annoying.

Stepping into battle like some sort of self-righteous hero knowing full well that if a curse so much as touches you, you'll crumble. Literally. That's another thing he finds annoying about you. How easily your skin chips and cracks like porcelain revealing an ocean of Phosphophyllite underneath.

You can't lift anything heavy, you can't fight, you can't help out without injuring yourself, you're clumsy, you're annoying, and the list could go on.

What he finds the most annoying about you, however, is your soft voice going, "Gojo - san, are you alright? You look tired", "Gojo - san, you should rest, you don't need to use your technique so often", "Gojo - san, you haven't eaten yet, so I brought you this, I hope you don't mind".

Gojo - san this, Gojo - san that, God. You drive him crazy. How do you manage to see through every front he puts up? Every act? Even Shoko and Suguru can't see through it, and yet you have the audacity to call him out.

You're a liability in battle, and you're practically useless, more like the team's overglorified mascot. So, for the life of him, Satoru doesn't understand why everyone likes you so much. Even Nanami, his grouchy underclassman, doesn't seem to mind you.

What annoys Satoru the most, however, is the tug his heart feels when he looks at you. Because no matter how he tries to deny it, you're growing on him like a parasite, and a part of him wishes he was as close to you as they were.

"I am weak." You agree, seemingly taking no offence to Satoru's question. It's just you and him in the classroom. You're standing at your desk, bag still in hand, and he's sitting a desk, two desks behind yours. Shoko and Suguru are still on their way, and he's taken this opportunity to ask you what he's been dying to.

Satoru's eyes widen at your response.

"If you know you're weak, why do you try so hard? It's kind of pathetic, you know." His brows furrow, glasses sliding down his nose bridge as he tilts his head.

"I- because, I'm selfish, I guess." You say softly.

There it is again. That annoying soft tone of voice that makes his chest hurt whenever he hears it.

"I know I'm weak, but I want to keep trying. I want to fight. One day, I want to be able to repay everyone for everything they've done for me. Yaga - sensei, Shoko, Suguru, Ken, Yuu. Even you, Gojo - san. I want you to be able to rely on me. I want to be able to protect innocent people like you guys do. So I hope you can bear with me for a little more, Gojo - san. I'm sorry for being such a burden, but I promise I'll pay you back." You say earnestly, looking Gojo in the eye.

Satoru's eyes widen, and he's silent for a moment. Before he bursts out laughing.

You suddenly feel embarrassed. You were being serious and heartfelt, and all Gojo does in response is laugh.

"What's with that? Did you quote that from an anime?" He cackles, hitting the desk with one hand and holding his stomach with the other.

"I- I did not! I was being honest!" You defend, feeling the heat tinting your cheeks.

"If- if you really want to repay me, buy me something sweet from the vending machine." Satoru stutters between fits of giggles.

"OK, I'm on it." You nod, turning on your tail to leave the class. A hand grabs your shoulder, stopping you.

"Where are you going?" Satoru asks, leaning down to look you in the eye.

"The vending machine?" You reply, brows furrowed in confusion.

"You're going now?"

"Yeah? I'll be back really quickly."

Satoru scoffs, but there's a smile on his face nonetheless.

"Really? I'll time you then. You have 5 minutes." He challenges, smirking as he tilts his head at you.

"5- 5 minutes?" You stutter, eyes wide. The vending machine was on the other side of the school. There's no way you'd make it back in 5 minutes.

"Yeah. The clock is ticking. Didn't you say you'd pay me for saving your butt all those times?" He mocks.

Satoru's eyes widen as you put down your bag, determination clear on your face.

"I did. I might not be back in 5 minutes, but I'll be back in less than 10!"

"Hey, wait-"

And with that, you've rushed out the classroom, leaving Satoru absolutely bewildered. As he sticks his head out the door, watching you run and almost slip multiple times, Satoru thinks he's figured it out. He understands why Shoko and Suguru keep you around.

You're amusing. And he wants to get closer to you.

Unfortunately, things never go as planned. And if Satoru had known the outcome before, he would have tried to get to know you much sooner.

Things change quickly when you're a Jujutsu Sorceror. People come and go, live, and die. They change, they evolve. People grow apart, and people grow closer.

Regardless, it's not a pleasant feeling when you lose someone close to you. 

Gojo Satoru had never thought the day would come when he'd feel regret. He was the strongest, after all. Everything he wanted he got. The world was his oyster. Money, power, good looks, everything. So it's safe to say that loss was also a new concept to him.

A feeling he decided he'd prefer to live without.

It hurt in a way he couldn't explain. He felt as if he couldn't breathe, as if there were something heavy on his chest. Almost as if he were having an out of body experience but could feel whatever the stranger he saw when he looked in the mirror felt. Pain. Anger. Despair.

Cold and light. That's how your body felt in his arms. He couldn't bear to look at the white cloth covering it. This, this couldn't be you. This body in his arms, the broken shards of its head cutting into the cloth.

Yet it was still vivid. Amanai Riko running out and finding him, letting him know that you had died saving her. A bullet straight to the head. Pushing her into Suguru's arms and telling him to run with your last breath. Riko's tear filled face as she begged for him to help Suguru because she couldn't bear to have anyone else die because of her.

Since then, he's felt numb. It hasn't faded. The coldness in his skin, the haze of his reality, brain clouded as it was forced to process the events that had taken place.

"Suguru... should we kill them all? I probably wouldn't feel anything right now."

Did he say something? The words don't register in his mind. Was that his voice? Raw and soft.

Them. The higher-ups. If only he had known earlier that they were supportive of your death. That there was a bounty for your head somewhere.

He didn't know why. He didn't know anything. You had kept so much to yourself. Just what were you dealing with alone? All this time, smiling wide, eyes always sparkling, hiding everything behind your carefree, happy - go - lucky persona.

You didn't deserve this. You of all people. You weren't weak. You were sweet, kind, caring, and selfless to a fault.

This was not you. Lifeless in his arms. You were never this cold.

He remembered it, how warm your hands were all those time your fingers brushed his forehead to check if he was well, when your fingers brushed his whenever you handed him something, how warm they were when you held his face in your hands and scolded him for being reckless. He remembered it vividly.

What would you say if you saw him now? The exhaustion in his face, the blankness in his eyes, the way his- his hands were... trembling?

He could hear your voice, clear as day.

"Gojo - san! What happened to you!"

"You should really take care of yourself more, what were you thinking?"

"I don't care if you're one of the strongest! You're a teenager. Right now, you're just Satoru, and you're going to learn to be kinder to yourself. You- you don't deserve this."

What did Satoru deserve? Was it really kindness? Care? Gentleness? Love? He had messed up. If he had been stronger, he could have saved you. If he had been stronger, you wouldn't be dead in his arms.

What was the point of awakening his powers when they weren't there when it mattered? What was the point of being the strongest if he couldn't protect the people he cared about? The people he loved?

What made matters worse was finding out the higher-ups were happy you were gone. The people that had singlehandedly been the cause for his suffering. His. Suguru's. Shoko's. Yours. Those filthy old bags who only thought of themselves.

What would really happened if he killed them all? Would it really be such a bad thing? Weren't they supposed to be the pillars of the Jujutsu world? The elders for people to look up to and learn from. A symbol of hope, something, anything even remotely positive, beneficial to the future of the young next generation of Jujutsu Sorcerors?

All they had done was applaud the death of someone innocent. A teenager. A child. How dare these self-righteous ba-

Your hand falls from the covers of the white sheet, hanging limply.

Satoru's brain goes blank. A pale arm, an empty hand, and familiar phosphophyllite fingernails.

"No need. It's meaningless." Suguru's voice is low, as if the reality that you're gone hasn't hit him yet. His eyes linger on your hand. The palm that patted his back, the fingers that ran through his hair, the hand that was so warm in his.

Before he can stop himself, he finds his own hand grasping it. It's cold. He drops it like the contact physically hurt him.

"Without the higher-ups, the Jujutsu world will go up in flames. And even if they die, there's the possibility even worse people will come into power. Killing them won't bring her back either."

His words don't make sense, even to him, but Suguru utters them nonetheless. The look in Satoru's eye is enough to tell him that if he doesn't do anything, today will mark the beginning of a massacre. And although he feels the same anger Satoru does, Suguru's moral compass, as well as his understanding of the type of person you are... stops him.

"Meaning... huh?" Satoru repeats.

The Satoru in front of him is not the Satoru Suguru knows. The playful, snarky, overburdened boy replaced by something else. Something unfamiliar. Something... cold.

"Do we need that?"

Suguru hesitates for a split second. The girl in Satoru's arms is just as unfamiliar. A bubbly, bright, kind girl replaced by something else. Something unfamiliar. Something... almost sinful. A shell. An empty shell. The existence it harboured long gone. A disgrace to the being it had once been.

"Yeah. It's very important... for sorcerors."

Your corpse wouldn't decompose. The crystallisation forming a perfect seal to your body, and perhaps that's why they can't bring themselves to immediately bury you.

Clinging onto the false hope that perhaps you'd wake up, bounce back like always. Familiar head of teal hair poking over Suguru's shoulder, a second softer set of footsteps padding behind Satoru's, a warm hand flinching at the touch of Shoko's cold ones.

It's sickening. How quiet everything has become in your absence. How the shadows seem darker due to the absence of your light.

Perhaps you wouldn't know it, but your death was beneficial in a way. Suguru spiralled into depression but your words of the past kept him strong, and somehow, he managed to graduate with Satoru and Shoko.

They left an empty seat between them at graduation. Your certificate is still in Shoko's office to this day.

Your warnings and nagging that reminded everyone of their mother saved Haibara's life. You had always told them to never accept missions alone, and it was thanks to your words ringing in his head that Nanami became paranoid while Haibara was out on a mission. This led to him going out to check on Haibara and ended in him saving his life.

It was almost idealistic how almost everyone graduated that year. A rare thing in the Jujutsu World to have so many young people survive.

Satoru jokes its because you took on the unwanted burden and closed the gates of Heaven yourself. You always did. Eating the bitter parts of his food that he didn't like, letting everyone choose first when Yaga gave you rewards, not touching your food until everyone had started eating. You always took on the unpleasantries so that everyone else could live without knowing suffering.

Why did everyone deserve happiness except for you?

Why did everyone deserve to live except for you?

"Gojo - Sensei."

"So even Sensei sleeps, huh?"

"Of course he does. What kind of nonsense is that?"

Satoru's eyelids flutter. He pulls up his blindfold, his vision coming into focus as he sees a blurry image of his students.

For a split moment, he's in high school again. He's in his second year, and he's sleeping before class. He hears soft footsteps approach him. Feels someone lean down near him, but he's not scared. Not even annoyed.

Rather, he plays dumb and waits in anticipation. There's butterflies bursting in his chest, a smile pulling at his face that's hidden in his arms. Smirking at the familiar scent of yuzu and caramel engulfing his senses. He'd chosen it, after all.

"Gojo - san? Wake up, class is about to start."

"Gojo - sensei!"

But when his visions focuses fully, he realises it's been 12 years and his beloved students have visited his office.

"Oh, he's awake!"

There's a red rim to Satoru's eyes, but it's almost unnoticeable. He smiles before pulling his blindfold back down.

"Please don't fall asleep after summoning us all here." Megumi states.

Satoru stands up, and Yuji and Nobara are quick to fight over who gets to sit on his chair.

"What are you smiling about?"

It's today. By 4 that morning, Satoru had found himself sat in front of a familiar grave. He was always the first to visit. He brings a bouquet of white heliotrope and places it on the grave. He crouches in front of it, his blindfold tucked away in his pocket.

"Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy Birthday, dear Y/n. Happy Birthday to you."

If there's one thing Satoru wishes, it's that he was able to tell you his feelings truthfully while you were still alive. It's unhealthy, but he finds himself uttering the same three words on every occasion to a stone in the ground.

If only he could have seen your pretty face while he uttered them in person.

Satoru doesn't know if he believes in the afterlife, but he hopes you're listening. And maybe, just maybe, you're screaming at the top of your lungs, repeating the words in hopes he'd somehow hear.

"It's nothing."

A lie. Because deep down, Satoru knows he's thinking about a certain place, a certain person.

Maybe in his next life, he can finally go home to you.

[roryculkinsgf]

million dollar man // coriolanus snow

Description: Christmast Eve with breadwinner Coriolanus Snow, taking care of his future wife

TW: smut, dom!coryo, housewife!reader, controlling over the reader, praise kink

Word count: 1.5k

(English isn't my first language, and I do not own the characters)

One for the money,

two for the show, 

I love you, honey,

I'm ready to go...

Round Christmas time everything seems  a bit too busy, crowded streets and malls. People on every corner, not single free space to live. The world just turns that way as soon as November comes around. There's no exception for the chaos, not even in Capitol. City created and ruled by the cruel men who swore to be good, failing audibly after their proud hearts wished for power over ordinary human beings. Many rebels wished to tear this fucked up system down, district citizens buried themselves in fear and your boyfriend wasnt making it any better. A boy who once promised to destroy the bad, turned himself right into the dead void. Heart beating, blood pumping, but oh kindness faded by those who dared to doubt. He became a living corpse, only one who bring warmth into his existence was you. Each time you wanted to leave for better, you came running back. Something very wrong seemed like a drug in him, but before you could realize, your addiction became deadly. Merry Christmas, I guess?

"Morning, sweetheart," he splashed a kiss into your cheek. His hands grabbed you by your waist in a dominant manner. He kinda liked to show off his control, except not just kinda and mostly over you. "Morning, Coriolanus." Soft moan spilled into his mouth when he squeezed your little butt. You could hear as he kissed your neck, muffled words of "all mine". Normally you'd probably let him go on and bend you over the kitchen desk, but it was Christmas Eve today, and he simply has to wait. 

"Not now, Coryo..s-stop..." you whimpered at the feeling of him taking the best of you. His hand was moving lower by the slowest pace posssible. His fingers slipped into your underwer, you closed your eyes. One single slick by your soft spot and suddenly he wasn't touching you at all. 

When you opened your eyes, he was holding a cup and sipping the bitter-sweet liquid from it. Nothing about his expression mentioned the fact that you two almost did it. "What are you staring at, m'lady? It's you who told me to stop, remember? And you've got work to do anyway. Get into it, for me." He ordered with a smug grin not long before he walked to his office, ready to let you prepare for this whole day all by yourself. You were the housemaker afterall, not him. And you have to make sure your man is  pleased, it's your job.

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

"God Lord, Y/n...I've never eaten such a food in my life. That ham, and the mashed potatoes. Don't even get me started on the casserole, somehow you made me love green beans, princess. You're one hell of a cook, know I'm keeping you forever." There was simply no way to stop his praises. Damn well you knew you deserved them, you worked you ass off. The dishes you prepared were strange to you, yet familiar after each smile he gave you when he took the first bite. Seeing him fulfilled was all you needed.

"Thank you so much, Coryo. I made sure to prepare the best dinner I could manage, and as I see it payed off quite well, didn't it?" A warm smile filled your cheeks. He coudln't resist to reach his hand to your face, fingers delicately stroking your flushed skin. "Are you so red just for me, princess? You're such a pretty little sweet thing." 

Kisses splanded all over your lips, washing you over with passion. His brain got foggy just from the pureness of you, the redness of your skin each second. Because as they passed, he kept pulling you closer and closer, until no forces could ever possibly seperate you. His arms held you, shield from blood and flesh, the good feeling of being protected and elogiezed by a man. You gave in. No one could ever have you as much as he did, you sure know that.

Rough lips bruised your neck, leaving tumescent spots for you to admire tomorrow. Long way along your collarbone, shoulders. You were becoming his each moment, the world belonged to you two and he rulled every way that Earth dared to orbit for you. 

Part of the sky crashed when he rougly pushed you against the kitchen table. Your chin met a set of ceramic bowls fillled with food. Few glasses, wine and regular ones slipped when you pulled at the fancy cloth, what was shiny got poured over with all sorts of things. The great scent of food turned into a gross mess when a pot ringed as it hit the floor. Soup was flooding all over the dining room and you wanted to cry. No, you wanted to grab your shit-ass boyfriend by his shirt and choke him to death for daring to ruin hours of your hard work.

The sound of him rolling his eyes filled the room. "You're gonna clean that later, now be pretty and good for me. You know you can, darling." He massaged your ass under that mini skirt he made you wear. Big manly hand squeezed you until you felt incredibly helpless and small. He enjoyed he could boss you around, do anything to your tired body, play with you however he wanted to. And so he did. 

"Let me get you dolled up." From his pocket he pulled a thin fabric, wasting no time he began twisting it around your thighs, legs, butt even. It was a red ribbon, you didn't even process when he layed it over your wet pussy. 

"W-what's that for?" You couldn't understand. "Just...preparing a gift for myself, so fucking soft and all mine." He dropped right to his knees, as he pushed his face in between your butt cheeks. digging deep in he made a way across your pussy with his tongue. Somehow he was on you, in you. Digging into you, and you could feel heat all over yourself. His nails kept you in your place as he ate you out. Seeming like a starved man, he couldn't just get enough of his future wife. You were even more pressed against the table than before, nothing to muffle your moans against. Whispers echoed throughout the whole room, his pride and ego expanding with each sound.

"C-coryo..." You whimpered audibly. Closing your eyes so hard, shutting them in pleasure thinking they might not even ever open again. You couldn't stop grasping at the cloth, not until his face switched to two long fingers. He stood up and with one arm pinned you against himself, with other he got lost inside of you deep. "Shhh... princess, my pretty girl. You better get that pussy stretched out good, before I fuck you hm? Be good and let me  prepare you for me, mkay?" Despite your body shaking you nodded to his words. You could hear him purr. "That's my girl."

More minutes passed, you felt already fucked out. Brain soggy and legs trembling, all wet from how much he overstimulated you. When he pulled out, he braught his hand to your face. "Taste yourself, love. Go on." With your tongue you licked all the silky substance off. Each lick drawn made his pants tighten even more. His dick was begging to be touched, to be taken care of. 

Even if it embarassed you all too well, his will to be in charge and the bigger one just took over you. "Master, please... I... need you. S-so bad..." you whispered. Hot breath brushed around your neck. "Oh, I know you do, my princess." He unziped his pants. "You're always such a fuck-doll for me, sweetie." His dick slid out is boxers, standing in pride and arousal. "Want your master to fuck you pretty now?" He already teased your clit by fucking into the space between your thighs and pussy. "Mhm.." You whimpered. "Oh, but honey you know I need words. Tell me what you want and consider it done. Hm?" You sighed and breathed out all your self-respect into the heavy air with the  words: "Yes, please fuck me, master. Deep and hard, I can take it all for you."

"Such a good girl," He whispered as his cock slipped right into you. Precum softened the first thrust, but the ones following braught your face to red. He couldn't help but smack at your bare flesh, like fucking you wide opened wasn't enough. Like he needed to feel you all around, in his hands, in his whole power. And fuck it, let's be honest, you liked that. Each firm thrust that just felt like a crack into your body, every hit, every moan that vocalized from his mouth, his thumb massaging your tiny clit. Surrounded by torturing pleasure, you let him make this the most unforgettable Christmas of all your lives.

[billthedrake]

HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS (PART TWO)

I pulled up at Coach Stanley's house around 2:30. I had on a parka, which I bundled tight over my T-shirt as I walked up his yard. It was cold out and overcast, the kind of whether where you expect it to snow any minute.

Ed was standing out on his front porch to greet me and was apparently thinking the same thing. "Think we're getting a white Christmas, Russ?" he asked as he watched me walk up his driveway. Coach's place was at the end of a dead end street and while not 100 percent private, maybe he didn't have to worry what it would look like having a former student coming over on Christmas day.

"Can't remember the last one we had, Coach," I said as I stepped up to the patio and wiped my feet on the mat. I was enjoying how friendly and conversational the dynamic was between us. This could have been awkward as hell, but it was like this man was committed to make me feel comfortable.

I paused at the door and saw a smirk on his face and with it, a look of clear lust. He wanted to kiss me, and I wanted to kiss him right then and there, but instead he ushered me inside.

He was more dressed up than last I saw him, more in that button-down and khakis look I remember from the classroom. And that gold chain glinting from beneath the collar. He was hot as hell.

"Come in," he offered.

The inside was nice and warm, and I quickly took off my coat. I felt my heart pound. We hadn't made any real specific plans but I'd talked to him quickly and said I was free that afternoon and evening, if he was interested in spending some time together again. He was, barely concealing his excitement.

I could see his chest rise and fall some as he watched me set down my coat on a chair. "Good to see you, Russ," he said. "Thanks for calling."

I shot him a grin. I'm not 100 percent confident with guys, but something about Ed Stanley's bull-in-the-china-shop shyness made me feel like the more experienced one. "I'll admit I've been thinking about you a lot the last few days," I said.

The made him smirk and step up to me. In an I'm-gonna-kiss-you kind of move. "Is that right? I'm glad." His hands reached out and rested on my waist, almost pulling himself toward me as much as pulling me toward him. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christm..." I started until his lips cut me off. There was that soft tongue again, smoothly teasing and parting my lips, then touching my own. His mouth tasted a little bit of toothpaste and mouthwash and I could smell his aftershave. Heat emanated off his body, too, and I realized I was still a little cold from outside.

Maybe that's why I pressed into his embrace more. Or maybe I was just horny. Either way, Ed Stanley felt good, real good next to me.

Coach S had almost a dreamy expression on his masculine face when he broke the kiss. Almost lazily he reached up and ran his fingers along my torso, feeling up the leaner muscle beneath my long-sleeve T. "You know I like to take things slow, right, Russ?"

I reached down and rearranged the boner in my jeans. "Man you're killing me here, Coach," I teased, and Coach laughed.

"You didn't let me finish," he said, and I could see a playful smile as he reached down to adjust his own hardon. He walked over to the couch and patted me to sit down next to him. It felt cozier and homier now that the tree was up and fully lit. Or maybe it was the holiday spirit.

I sat down and Coach extended his arm for me to scoot closer. Even if I was taller, it felt nice to have his strong forearm draped over my shoulder. He gave me a peck and I felt the soft bristle of his beard before he pulled back.

"I was gonna say..." His blue eyes seemed deeper and almost darker in closer close up, the tree's twinkling lights and the dim outdoor illumination giving a dark sea look to them. He seemed almost nervous now. "I don't know what you're into, Russ, but I'd love to fuck you."

My heart pounded. "I'd like that Ed," I said. Then, "I wasn't sure what your deal was."

He smirked and ran his free hand along the front of my chest again. I loved his touch. "The deal is.... I have a very attractive man with me, and I've been thinking a lot how I wish I'd gone the next step with you on Saturday."

My voice cracked. "I've been thinking about that, too."

Ed's voice got huskier. "That would be an amazing gift, Russ," he said. I felt him pull me toward him and we were kissing once more.

I tried to match his skill, or at least his approach, with making out. And I ran my own fingers along his button-down shirt, feeling his hard body beneath it. This guy was such a crazy hunk, he could bed just about anybody, I figured. I was the right man at the right time.

We got deeper into the kiss. Not too fast, but definitely going past that soft, slow phase. I undid one of Coach's shirt buttons and slipped my hands into the opening, feeling up the soft fur and warm bulk beneath. Stanley let me feel him up before finally pulling back and undoing the rest of the buttons.

I greedily watched then even more greedily ran my fingers along his exposed chest. He let out a deep, mellow giggle "You like?"

I nodded. "Yeah, totally." I looked up into his handsome face. Coach S was always an authority figure for me but wasn't THAT much older than me. He still had some of that youthfulness ot his looks. "I think maybe it's a little bit of a fetish for me, actually."

"What?" he asked. "The chest?"

I ran my hand up to touch his nipples. Ed had amazing nipples. "Yeah, I'm a chest guy. But the open shirt thing, too. I don't know if I even realized it, but it pushes my buttons."

He gave me an encouraging look and said softly. "I'm glad, Russ." His tone got deeper and softer. "I like turning you on."

I laughed, unable to stop feeling him up. "You have no idea."

He didn't say anything, but instead reached down and started undoing his belt, then unbuttoning his khakis. I decided I liked seeing the horny side of Ed Stanley.

He reached in and hauled out his hard dick. Firm, meaty, not too big. He leaned back now in the sofa, his arms spread and the shift flaps pulled apart. His prick stood up into a full rigid position. His eyes were intense even if he was silent now.

I leaned over and started taking him into my mouth. I felt better at this now, since the angle was better than last time. I focused on the first few inches, up and down, slowly but surely, before working more of him deeper into my throat.

The second I went deep I heard Ed let out a soft deep grunt and felt his fingers run through my hair. "Oh man, Russ. Fuck... that's so beautiful."

I knew he was watching me blow him, and that just encouraged me to do my best. I worked him for another half minute and could feel his excitement. As I pulled off some and slowed my sucking, I could taste the salty precum.

"You getting close?" I asked, pulling all the way off.

He looked down and nodded, a puppy dog expression on his handsome bearded face. "Fraid so, bud."

I smiled, happy I'd given him that pleasure. If he hadn't mentioned fucking, I would have happily blown him to completion. But now, I kissed along his taut abdomen and up his furry chest. His fingers resumed stroking my hair as I did, until I made my way up to kiss him once more, leading Ed to wrap his palm around the nape of my neck to hold me steady as our tongues wrestled.

"Damn," he whispered when I finally pulled back.

"Yeah," I agreed. "You know, you're the best kisser I've ever met."

He cocked a grin. "There been a lot, Russ?"

"My share," I replied. "Nothing crazy."

He seemed to respect my answer. "You have experience bottoming?"

"With a couple of boyfriends, yeah," I answered. I now leaned back, as much to relieve the tightness in my crotch by spreading my legs as anything. I blushed now. "I don't know how to bring this up tactfully," I said. "But I usually do some preparation before I do."

Ed smirked. "I may have some supplies in the master bathroom for just that."

"You may, huh?" I laughed. This was a man of surprises.

He shrugged. "Call me an optimist."

"OK, Mr. Optimist," I said.

"God, you're so sexy, Russ," Ed said and scooted back toward me for a kiss. We made out again, and Coach S guided me back down to the sofa. I liked that he wasn't rushing it. It had actually been nine months or so since I'd bottomed, and I felt a little out of practice. Holding on to Ed's thick, fit body and being beneath him was getting me turned on and more assured.

By now his shirt was untucked and I was able to run my hands all over his strong back as he humped into me. Still in his khakis, me still clothed. This guy was unlike anyone I'd been with.

Finally he pulled off with a lusty look. "All right, bud... you feel up for getting ready?"

"Yeah," I said.

I watched him raise his body off the couch, his khakis still open and his dick still rock hard and sticking out. He offered a hand to help me up.

"Stuff's under the sink and there's a bath towel on the shelf. Make yourself at home," he offered.

In all of my mental holiday bingo cards, I never had being in Coach Stanley's bathroom cleaning myself out to be one of the options. But here I was.

I showered off and took one last look in the mirror. Maybe like a lot of gay guys my age, I was able to be both conceited about my youthful looks and deep-down insecure about my body. But Stanley seemed into it, so I took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door.

I'd lost my hardon and the urgency of my sexual excitement, but the sight in front of me had my cock filling out quickly. Ed Stanley was lying back on his bed with a fully hard prick, naked except for his open dress shirt and that gold chain.

"Whoa!" I said, my dick bouncing up to rigidity with each step toward the bed.

"I decided to keep the shirt on. You seemed to like it."

"Hell yes," I said, climbing up on the bed and positioning my naked body above his half reclined one. "You must think I'm silly," I said.

He laughed. "I'm pretty naive in some things, but teachers have a pretty good idea when students have the hots for them."

I settled against his furry body and felt his strong hands land on my ass. "Did you have the hots for me, too?" I asked. It was a question that had been in the back of my mind since Saturday.

"Truth?" he asked. "I always that you were incredibly cute, but no I never had the hots for you. Not till I ran into you..."

Our mouths met. Any hesitation I had about giving my ass to Coach Stanley was way out the window. I was turned on like mad, but more than that I just wanted to give him this.

It was my turn to hump into him as he held me and matched the ferocity of my kiss. For a man with the smooth moves, he seemed happy to switch gears. Before long, I felt his fingers work deeper into my crack and play with my still shower-damp hole.

"Hmmph," I muttered into our kiss. When I broke, I actually laughed.

"What?" he asked, with a cheeky grin.

I shook my head. "I guess I'm getting my head around you being aggressive in bed."

"Too much?" he asked. "We don't gotta, Russ." I could see a real lust in his blue eyes but to his credit he was giving me an out.

"Nah, not too much," I replied.

"Good," he growled and with a surprise move, he used his superior strength to maneuver and flip up over, so I was on my back and he was above me. And just as quickly his lips were attacking my neck, licking and kissing. Stanley was a sensual lover, very different from the men I'd been with before. My dick was rock hard and dripping against his stomach fur as his mouth sought mine out one more time.

"Fuck!" he muttered, breaking the kiss and already kissing his way down my body. Down my sternum, over my six pack and then licking my cock. "You got a big dick, Russ," he muttered.

I felt so outmanned by this stud, so it felt nice to be bringing something to the table. Not that dick size mattered much for me, but Ed seemed into my prick as he pulled it up and examined it before licking its length again.

"Tell me if you get close," he said, then began swallowing.

I knew Coach S hadn't had any dick sucking practice in the last few days, but this BJ was a lot better than the prior one. Maybe he was just less nervous and more into it. My quick trigger wasn't kicking in, but after a minute I had to tap his shoulder. "Coach...."

He spit my out and started tonguing my balls. Normally I don't crave that sensation, but I loved the sweet torture of it now, the way his oral attention kept me rock hard and dripping while prolonging the pleasure.

And when he put his hands beneath my hamstrings, I got the idea. I pulled my legs up and back for him.

Some men are hesitant to rim, but Ed wasn't one of them. He dove in, licking me and teasing my ring. I was surprised by that combination of eagerness and soft tongue. And the soft scruff of his beard tickled my cheeks in the best way possible.

"Oh fuck..." I hissed.

He pulled back, shooting his blue eyes up to look at my face. "You like this, bud."

"Please don't stop," I laughed, pulling my thighs back further and hiking my ass up back toward his face. Maybe it looked slutty, but I didn't care. Coach Stanley was that good at eating ass.

He got a cocky look on his face then dove back in.

I got a few more minutes of that royal treatment, then Ed methodically set up to prep me with his fingers. He'd set out some lube, and I watched his intent face as he slid one finger inside me, his eyes darting back and forth between my hole and my facial reactions.

"You feel amazing, Russ," he said. "You're pretty tight."

"Yeah," I admitted. "Just give me a little time and I'll be good." I wasn't an expert but I'd bottomed enough to know it was like riding a bicycle. And with a top as hot as Coach Stanley I wasn't gonna have a hard time getting into this.

"You got it, bud."

His eyes were locked on my face when the third finger slipped in. I expected my hole to resist or my guts to clench tight. But it felt amazing.

"So, bud...." Ed said in soft, low voice. "I generally play safe."

"OK," I muttered. Maybe because he was a teacher and authority figure, I wasn't surprised by his caution. "I'm on PreP... if that matters."

I could see his chest rise and fall between the open flaps of his shirt. "It does," he said. He pulled his fingers out and set out to slick down his thick boner. Ed dizzled some on my boner. He set down the lube and looked back at me. "I'd love to fuck you raw," he hissed. It was SO wild to hear Coach S talk so lewdly, so directly. "I've never done that."

My voice was cracking I was so horny. "You're missing out, Coach. It's amazing." My eyes met his, and I got off seeing his prick jerk some.

He leaned forward and kissed me. Not a Coach Stanley kiss but a hard, sloppy kiss. I held onto him and did my best to return it, even as I let him take the lead with his plunging tongue.

Already he was reaching down to guide his prick into place. I realized then he was real wet from lube, like a crazy of amount of slickness to his prick that kept me from clenching my defenses shut. Not that I wanted to, but Ed was already pushing in.

I grunted into his mouth.

He was breathing heavy as he pulled back and looked at me. "Sorry, man... I just..."

"It's OK," I said, gamely. After all I wanted this more than anything. My fantasy served to me on a silver platter. "It always stings a little going in."

He nodded. Like he wanted to learn how my sexual responses were wired.

"Trust me, I want this, too, Coach," I said, reaching up to feel his chest. "I want your cock."

He slid just a little more into me, like a half inch more. It felt good. But the real thing that changed for me was seeing Ed Stanley above me, hunky as hell. Furry chest, rounded pecs, gold chain, button down shirt undone. I was transported back to my high school JO sessions, only this was better than I could have ever imagined.

My guts flowered open and Ed's dick sunk in. The sensation felt good for him, and was a real turn on. His lips curled into a smile.

"Yeah, Russ.... oh fuck."

He gave me a second but quickly realized I didn't need more. Then, his arms steadying himself above me, Coach S started fucking me. Nice steady pumps as I wrapped my legs around his waist and touched any part of him that I could.

"Fuck me, Coach," I hissed. Then corrected, "Ed..." Honestly I didn't know if the ex-teacher/ex-student thing bothered the man in a moment like this. I didn't want to spook him, even if I was tapping into that forbidden fantasy with every single stroke of the man's thick cock.

"Russ fucking McAdams," he hissed, his fucking getting more urgent. Not hard or fast, but with more power in his hips and glutes as he worked my hole.

I was SO hard right then. It was tempting to stroke my cock but I didn't want to blast off right away. I looked up into the man's eyes, his handsome face, and asked, "Barebacking what you expected, Ed?"

He nodded. "Uh uh. And more. I think I like this too much." His breath was catching some, and I could tell he was focusing on not cumming quickly.

"You gonna cum in my ass?" I growled. Even if the physical sensations of raw sex were night and day different for the top more than for the bottom, the idea of being bred by Ed Stanley was really getting to me just then.

"Oh buddy... fuck...." He slowed his thrusts some and looked down on me. "You wanna stroke off while I do you?" He seemed surprised I wasn't already.

I cocked my grin. "I'm pretty sure the second I start I'm gonna cum. Why don't you go for it, and tell me when you're close."

"Probably not gonna take me long, Russ," he said. Then I felt it. Gone were the gentle thrusts. This one was hard and deep, surprisingly deep given Ed's cock size. Then another, perfectly timed.

"This OK, bud?" he asked.

"God yes," I answered. I was in the zone now. Stanley had gotten me into the zone.

For the next minute I got fucked by a real stud. Ed's meaty ex-jock body clenching rhythmically above me. His prick hitting my internal spot with steady repeated force. His muscles clenching, his shirt tails flapping, his gold chain dangling.

"I'm so close," he gritted through his teeth.

I wrapped my hand around my dick. I was gonna get there with Coach S. "Do it, Ed. Breed my ass."

"Oh FUCK!" he cried. Not orgasming yet but his hips working faster as he got closer. My hand was a blur on my cock and I could feel the rumble in my balls. I opened my eyes wide to take him all in. My dream man, fucking me hard, his face now starting scrunch up as he came.

"Coach!" I let out as my prick fired all over my body, from my neck to my abs. I just shot it all out and enjoyed the orgasm of a lifetime. Only as I came down from the intensity of that high, I hoped my lifetime would have a lot more like this ahead.

Ed's hips were slowing to a halt, and I could tell he was riding the aftershocks of a deep cum. "Whoo buddy," he breathed out. "That was something else." He leaned forward and gave a soft kiss. Not too long since I think he intuited that I was gonna cramp up bent back in this position.

We uncoupled and Ed rested up in a kneeling position on the mattress. Shirt still on and open wide, his prick still rigid and coated with lots of lube and cum. His chest still rising and falling. "Thank you so much, Russ... that was incredible."

"For me, too," I said as I stretched out my legs. "OK if I rinse off?" I asked. I didn't want to kill the afterglow, but sometimes after a hard cum I have to piss. And maybe a part of me felt self-conscious for getting into bottoming so much with Coach S.

He nodded. "Like I said, Russ..." Make yourself at home.

I went to piss and take a quick shower. I was back out in about five minutes. Ed had pulled on some sweatpants but still had that button down shirt on, open to reveal his hairy chest. I don't know if it was for my benefit, but it was a great sight. He was standing at the window, the blinds now open.

He looked at me, with almost kid-like excitement. "It's snowing."

I walked over, towel around my waist. Indeed, white flakes were coming down, hard.

"Whoa," I said.

He clasped his hand on my bare shoulder. "You got your white Christmas, buddy," he said, his eyes taking in the snow.

"Yeah," I said. I turned to look at him and saw his eyes were no longer on the snow. They were on me.

"You gotta rush off, Russ?"

I shook my head. "I'm good," I said. "If you don't mind the company."

"The opposite," he said. "Listen... I have some stuff for a holiday dinner, if you want some."

That surprised me. "You cooked a holiday meal?"

"Store bought," he assured me. "But I've worked up an appetite."

"I'm pretty hungry, too," I admitted. Brunch had now been many hours ago.

We kissed, and I saw the return of soft, gentle Ed Stanley. Until I felt his strong hand fiddle with my towel and undo it.

I was hard again, but maybe not ready for a second round. "You horny again?" I asked as I pulled back.

His blue eyes twinkled. "Nah. Just like playing with my Christmas present," he laughed. He gave my ass a light slap. "Come on, let's get something to eat."

[stabbyfoxandrew]

Arsonist Neil/Firefighter Andrew for wip wednesday please🥺

WIP Wednesday (9/18) | Arsonist Neil / Firefighter Andrew AU (Part 235)

Neil isn't sure what the big deal is about Christmas. He never has. It's pretty though. He's been driving around since it got dark out, looking at the lights and decorations on peoples' houses. It’s amazing how brilliant the lights are. How, when they’re the right colors they almost look like flame. Neil jolts when his phone starts ringing. He answers it, puts it on speaker, and drops it back into the cup holder.

"How'd it go?" He asks, inching past a house whose roof has an inflatable Santa Claus dangling over the side of it. He supposes it's meant to be standing by the chimney, but it's clearly fallen. And it looks sort of like a Santa suicide.

"It went... Surprisingly well," Andrew answers with a sigh.

"You sound tired."

"Exhausted. I am not good at being around people. My social battery is dead. Need to recharge."

"So go to sleep," Neil says, eyeing a house with pretty white icicles glowing where they trickle down from the lip of the roof.

"Not that tired. Wanted to talk to you," Andrew says. Neil's heart jumps in his chest. After whatever sort of realization he had earlier, the thought of Andrew wanting him in any capacity has him lightheaded. Andrew yawns audibly. "What are you doing right now?"

Neil tells Andrew that he's touring the Christmas lights and Andrew scoffs.

"It's pretty. Really pretty. Almost makes me wish I had a house."

"Oh? Your hotel hasn't done up every empty space with merry, jolly goodness?"

"There's a tree in the lobby, next to the fireplace. Looks like something out of a movie. I sat there for a little while this evening, just watching the flames," Neil tells him. They were just as pretty as the lights on the tree, but he doesn't say so.

"That sounds like good enrichment for you."

"It was." Neil reaches an intersection and waits for a moment before turning left down another residential street. "Andrew, do you do Christmas?"

"Nah."

"Oh."

"Why?"

"I want to get you a Christmas present." Neil admits. Perhaps it's all the corny movies he's been watching recently, but it seems like it would be fun. Picking out a gift for someone you care about. Andrew's the only person on that list. Besides, Neil needs to see him up close and in person. He didn't know it until earlier, but he thinks...

Andrew scoffs. "You realize that means we would have to meet somewhere for you to give to me?"

"Yeah. I'm ready." Neil decides. He really is this time. He can handle it, as long as Andrew is there too.

[the-ravenist]

That's my wife

Steve Binder x Fem!Black!Reader

Reader and Steve are married, they share both of their last names, reader is somewhat tall, reader is a boss ass bitch, reader is implied/mentioned to be infertile, reader is female(sorry), Steve is a simp for reader, suggestive dialogue(no smut), reader wears pants, reader and Steve match accessories, and protective!Steve(I think)

The smell of cigarette smoke fills the sound room, multiple eyes focusing on Elvis on the stage below, the young man's voice blasting through the speakers. The abrupt sound of the door slamming gains the attention of people in the room, yet a pair of blue eyes stay focused on the act below. Those pairs of blue eyes belong to the amazing Steve Binder-(L/N), a great man, producer, friend, partner, and husband, yes husband.

Steve had the opportunity to work with the infamous Elvis the Pelvis Presley, to produce his Comeback film. At first, he was hesitant to accept the offer, but he could see that Elvis's career wasn't doing...well. But Bones had convinced him, there could be a possibility that old Elvis might come back.

Steve can feel a headache beginning to form, a dull pounding at the back of his head and the slight twitch in his left eyebrow gave it away. If the Conole didn't shut his yapper soon, Steve was gut him like the fat fish he was.

"Kennedys' been shot!"

That definitely broke him from his thought. The backtrack of Elvis's song continued playing through the pen-drop silence throughout the studio.

Dancers, makeup artists, hairdressers, singers, and others alike were piled in the small dressing room, the dialogue of the news lady sounding like white noise besides a couple words Kennedy, shot, and dead stick in the brains of the listeners. The decrease in volume catches the attention of the grieving, Steve stands in front of the TV eyes slightly red and glistening with tears.

"Listen I, uh, I just want to say that," a sad chuckle breaks through his lips. "This nation is hurting, it's lost you know."

A couple of nods and sniffles ring throughout the group.

"It needs a vioce right now, to help heal it," he nods towards Elvis. "You, you have to a statement EP," said man's eyes lighting up.

"Mr. Presely doesn't makes statements." Eyes snap to the colonel.

"He sings here comes Santa Claus", he walks towards Steve menacingly. "And wishes everyone merry Christmas and good night", he continues with a sharp glare on his face.

A beat of somber silence passes by, anger and frustration build up in Steve and Elvis. Steve knows that the Colonel could care less about the president's death and Elvis, he was The Snowman, after all, he was cold in all ways.

"This tragedy, a tragedy yes," fake sympathy is plastered on his face. "But it has nothing to do with us."

At that Steve had calmly stormed out of the room, Bones and Jerry following. Everyone else had walked out of the room slowly after, all going their separate ways to dressing rooms mostly or back to the stage. Steve had walked, well stomped into the sound booth, lighter lighting the cigarette in his hand.

He takes a deep inhale of the toxic smoke, holding it for a beat. He knew that he had a show to run he knew it but during this time, nobody was really in the best mental state to work. As he exhaled the smoke the phone on the best corner rang, he let it ring for two more rings before his shaky hands picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Hey sweets, you okay?"

At the sound of your voice, his body instantly slacked. He was glad you called, but that's not what he's worried about at the moment.

"I'm fine puff," he had called you that due to your afro, rather than a halo of curls on top of your head reminds him of a puff of smoke. I know weird comparison.

"'M just a little tired, how about you?"

" 'M not gonna lie to ya sweets," your voice shakes a little. "I'm a lil shakin' up."

Steve puts out his cigarette as he exhales the last bit of smoke. He can feel the dull pounding get a bit louder, now trust me dear reader it's not because of you I promise.

"Yeah, this...event has everyone shakin' up," a small sigh. "I wouldn't be surprised if the damn whole country stopped functioning." A small laugh was heard through the speaker.

"Honestly, I'd believe it," A huff escaped your lips. "Damn near got into a fuckin' car accident when I heard it."

"What?"

"It's nothing though, I'm fine the cars fine," you murmur softly. "And so is my fro." Steve couldn't help but let out a small laugh.

The line is silent for a moment, it's somewhat comforting in a way. "Even though neither of you is facing the other in the comfort of your shared bed, it seems as if you were standing next to one another.

"Hey, puff?"

"...yeah?"

"How do you feel about getting creative again?"

"I'm on my way."

Elvis, Bones, and Jerry are watching Steve pace in the small room. Elvis laying on the floor by the piano, Jerry lounging on the black couch on the wall, and Bones leaning on the crisp black piano watching his friend stress out.

"What's he stressin' about," questions Elvis.

"I don't know E," Jerry says eyes narrowing on the nervous man.

"He's nervous about his dames," Bones speaks up from his spot.

"Wait his girl," Elvis questions. "Why is she comin'?"

"I guess-"

Steven turns around quickly startling the men in the room. He seems calm, yet his eyes give him away; they're wider than normal.

"I'm sorry boys," a hand runs through his hair. "This might seem completely out of character of myself," and was it ever.

"Yeah, we can tell," Jerry mutters. "Why does your girl make you nervous?"

"Huh?"

"Bones had said that your girl was coming," Elvis had said from his spot on the floor.

"And we want to know why you're actin' a nervous mess," Bones continued.

"Well if I'm being honest boys," Steve reluctantly starts. "I'm worried how she would think of y'all, minus Bones."

Well, it's not like you were a judgmental person or anything like that. It's just that you're kind of intimidating in a way.

"What," Elvis says through a small laugh. "Whaddaya mean?"

"Now listen EP," Steve's is laced with seriousness. "This woman is very important to me, she's the best out there for this operation."

"So please behave," he slightly begs.

"But still be yourself, and don't say anything stupid," Bone adds.

"Don't worry my mama taught me better than to disrespect a woman," Elvis says as he sits in a crisscross position.

"Good, 'cause she'll," he takes a glance at his watch. "She'll be here any minute now."

Just as he says that the door is pushed open, with a dark brown heeled boot. And those boots are paired with brown high-waisted pants, a white turtle neck, and a pearl necklace.

"Sorry that I'm late, sweets," the woman closed the door with her heel.

"I had to speed back home to get the stuff that I thought we could use, but then I realized that I had no fuckin' scissors," she dropped the bags full of supplies on the couch next to Jerry.

"So, I had to drive to the store to get scissors, and I realized that we'd might be here a while so I bought myself a silk scarf cause why the hell not, and-"

Steve grabbed you by the shoulders and shook you a bit, to stop her rambling. She had stopped talking as she looked at Steve with wide (e/c) eyes.

"Puff, I'm glad you're here but we have company," his eyes dart to the people behind her.

"Shit," she looked at the men behind her. "Right, my bad y'all." She coughs to clear her throat. "Hello, my name is (Y/N) (L/N)-Binder, and I'll be helping y'all 'cause y'all desperately need it."

"Now excus-"

"And you, white and sideburns," you point to the boy on the floor. "You must be the big Elvis the Pelvis Presly," the boy smirks a bit. "Now I'm not a big fan of yours but I have to admit you have some hip swingn' songs." The woman demonstrates as she moves her hips a bit.

"Well thank you," Elvis trails off, not sure if what the woman had said was a compliment or not.

"It's no problem," she dismisses, she puts her attention on the entire group.

"Now what have we gotten so far hmm?"

Silence

"Have y'all at least started on a song?"

"I mean," Jerry bravely speaks up. "We sort of do," (Y/N)'s sharp (e/c) eyes are basically pinning him to the couch.

"All right let's hear it."

And then the construction begins.

"Alright, the song is done," she sighs in exhaust. " And let me tell you, y'all are by far the hardest people I've worked with."

Jerry and Elvis gawk at the confidence of the women in front of them.

"Now E," the switch from sarcasm to seriousness throws off the boys. "It's quiet obvious to anyone with an IQ of a basic human being, that your career has been nothing but a pile of flaming shit lately."

Steve chokes on a bit on the smoke of his cigarette.

"But with this song and a killer outfit by my design," you can see a child-like excitement spark in Elvis's blue eyes. "You'll bounce back in no time."

"Now," you snap loudly. "How does everyone feel about leather?"

.

.

.

"Good night boys, I'll see your show tomorrow m'kay," you say as you watch the guys leave. Leaving you and Steve in the small room.

You plop your body down on the dark green couch, body slacking once it hits the cushion. A sigh leaves your mouth and your eyes begin to close.

"God, I'm getting old. I've never been that tired in a hot minute," you mutter as you grab your head scarf from your purse.

Steve nonchalantly kneels before you, hands reaching for your boots.

"You're not getting old, you need to stop saying that," he mutters as he unzips your left boot and gently slides it off your foot, hands moving to unzip the right one.

"Oh right, I'm not getting old. I'm aging," your speech is sarcastic. Yet Steve ignores it and places your boots next to the piano.

Steve plops himself on the couch next to you as you wrap your hair with the scarf. The scarf in which looks similar to the ascot that you're husband is wearing around his neck. Once finished you wrap your leg around his waist and your arms around his neck. As if automatically, he wraps an arm around your waist and slides a hand into your back pocket.

"You know what else ages," Steve croons teasingly as he locks eyes with you. You hummed in a curious tone.

"Wine, wine ages," he leans his head forward, lips grazing yours.

"'nd you my darling puff, are some very fine wine~" His lips finally touched yours. Once your lips touch you fight back a smile as his comment registers.

"Oh, Mr. Binder you are the devil in disguise I swear," you're able to say through the onslaught of kisses you're receiving.

"If I'm the devil, you're my angel in disguise," he purrs as he continues his trek of kisses to your neck.

"Okay, now you ruined the mood," you snort as you push his head back slightly.

"Aw whaddya mean," he rests his chin on your shoulder.

"... he's so young sweets, too young."

"I know."

"He looks like a young man but has the eyes of a man who works at an office 9-5. Tired, stressed, yet yearning."

You begin to play with Steve's fingers as you begin to ramble.

"He misses his mama Stevie, he stuck to me like glue. Kept looking at me, as if he was looking for affirmation. Like a child would."

"God Stevie, why do I want someone to look at me like that again?"

Your eyes begin to water as you subconsciously rub your stomach.

Steve frowned at your sadness, he knew you wanted kids. The both of you did. The thought of having a little bundle of y'all's creation running around the house made him smile. Of course y'all have tried but when you went to a doctor the worse news has erased that dream. As an interracial couple adopting a child was harder than it looked, so in the end it was replaced with two fur babies you have at home.

Oh, Harley and June, two energy filled great danes. They're probably sleeping in your shared bed, drooling all over the sheets. The thought of them brings a small to your face.

You look at Steve's blue eyes. Oh, how you love those blue eyes. You cup his cheek, he leans into it, it makes you snort. You peck his lips, once, twice.

"Let's go home Stevie," you hop off his lap. You bend over to grab your boots and bags. Steve of course can't help but take a glance at your ass. Those pants accentuated everything. You pop right back up and turn to Steve, who still sits on the couch looking up at you. "I have to go home and sew a leather suit for a 6'2 man."

Your husband groans as he reluctantly gets up from the couch, standing in front of you.

"Do you ever rest?" His hands grip your hips as he sways them a bit.

"Yes, but only during a full moon," you tease with a smile.

"That tracks," you let out a squeak of a shock. He turns you around and carries you bridal style.

"I'll have you know that I'm working because I want to," your arms automatically curl around his neck. Steve takes the bags from your hands and puts them as far up on his arms as possible.

"Mhmm, puff y'know Harley and June don't need set after set of pajamas, he remarks as you begin to walk out of the office.

"But they're cute~."

[thebisexualdogdad]

An eventful holiday - Thea Queen x Male!reader

A/N: based off the 1x09 holiday episode because I've started a DC show rewatch and forgot how much of a crush I used to have on Thea

When Oliver came back from the dead he had a lot of new things he had to adjust to, one of the hardest being that his little sister who was only twelve the last time he saw her was now seventeen with a boyfriend.

He wanted an opportunity to bring his family closer after learning they stopped celebrating Christmas when he and his father went missing so Oliver planned a big Christmas party to make up for lost time.

However he didn't expect you to be invited as Thea's plus one.

He, Thea, Moira and Walter just got their photo taken when you walk in holding a bouquet of flowers.

"Hi, uh Thea invited me," you say seeing the angry look on Oliver's face, "Mrs. Queen these are for you."

You hand Moira the flowers and she thanks you, Thea kissing you on the cheek and showing you to the food table.

"I didn't get a chance to tell you how amazing you look tonight," you smile, grabbing a christmas cookie and taking a bite of it.

"You clean up pretty nice yourself," she says, drinking a glass of champagne and taking in the sight of you in your suit.

"Well I wanted to impress your brother, I don't think he likes me very much," you admit.

"Because he doesn't know you and he still doesn't want to believe I'm not a little kid anymore," she tells you.

"Maybe we should hang out sometime, just the three of us so he and I can actually get to know each other," you suggest.

"You're putting in a lot of effort to get the approval of my brother," she chuckles.

"That's because I love you, I want him to know that I'm serious about us and would never do anything to hurt you."

Thea smiles and kisses you sweetly, putting her empty glass down on the table, "I love you too and I think we should go upstairs for some privacy so I can give you your christmas present."

"But we exchanged gifts already," You say confused as you and Thea had a small get together with your family a few days prior.

"This is the part of your gift that I couldn't give you in front of your parents," she grins.

You had no idea what was in store for you but you quickly down a glass of champagne as she takes your hand and guides you towards the stairs.

Oliver sees this and glares at you, about to follow you two with intentions of kicking you out of the party but his mother puts her hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"Let them be Oliver," Moira says calmly.

"You're really okay with what they are going to do up there?" Oliver huffs.

"They are young and in love, in case you've forgotten your father and I tried to stop you sneaking around with girls when you were their age and yet you still always found a way," she chuckles.

"She's not ready to be in a relationship this serious," Oliver states.

"And you were?" Moira laughs, "you have to accept that Thea is not the same twelve year old she was when you left."

"Excuse me mom, I need to get some air," Oliver sighs, heading to the front door.

Meanwhile upstairs you are sitting on Thea's bed as she locks her door, sauntering towards you and climbing in your lap.

"Go ahead and unzip my dress," she says and you reach up, pulling the zipper down her chest to reveal the black lacy bra she has underneath.

"Wow," you mutter, the top of her dress falling off her shoulders and bunching around her waist.

"You like it?" She asks it.

"You are so beautiful Thea," you say putting your hands on her waist and kissing her deeply.

The kiss intensifies, Thea slipping your suit jacket off and tossing it to the floor before unbuttoning your shirt.

You pick her up and flip her over, letting her get comfortable against the pillows.

Thea moans softly as you kiss down her neck and along her chest while pulling her dress the rest of the way off her body exposing the lacy black panties that matched her bra.

"Merry Christmas Y/N," she says, biting her lip.

"This just may be the best gift I've ever received," you mutter, your lips traveling along her stomach which results in her hips rocking up for any form of friction.

You spend a while exploring her body and working her up, fully enjoying your gift, your fingers are gently rubbing her over the lace and her arousal is starting to soak through the material so you finally rid her of it.

You stand up and remove the rest of your clothes as well but look around, "Wait where's my jacket?"

You spot it on the floor and dig around in the inside pocket pulling a condom out.

"Were you expecting to get laid tonight?" Thea teases as she lifts her chest up to unclip her bra and tosses it aside.

"Not at all but it's always better to be prepared right," you chuckle, taking the condom out and rolling it on.

You reposition yourself back on top of her, spreading her legs apart and settling in between them.

Thea gasps when you ease the tip of your cock inside her, slowly pushing it the rest of the way in.

"Does this feel okay?" You ask and she nods.

You give a few rolls of your hips so she has a chance to adjust before you find a more steady rhythm.

She throws her head back, her chest in the air so you take the opportunity to nip at her neck and collarbones.

"Just like that," she moans, grasping at the sheets under her.

After a few minutes she feels her release approaching and reaches down, rubbing firm circles over her clit.

"I'm so close," she groans.

"Me too," you grunt, picking up the pace.

With just a few more thrusts Thea is cumming, her walls tightening around your cock and her eyes rolling back.

Seeing her like this takes you over the edge as well, riding out your highs together.

After cleaning yourselves up you're blissfully laying naked in her bed, a sheet loosely around your waists with her head on your chest when there's an urgent knocking on her door.

"Thea make yourself decent quickly, Diggle just called and Oliver's been in a motorcycle accident we need to go to the hospital right away," her mother says through the door with an obvious worry in her voice.

"Oh my god," Thea says, jumping out of bed and grabbing her clothes off the floor.

"Hey, what can I do for you?" You ask trying to comfort her as you both get redressed.

Thea opens her door surprised to see her mom is still standing there.

"Y/N you can help by seeing our guests out after we leave," Moira says.

"Of course Mrs. Queen," you say awkwardly, pulling your suit jacket on and kissing Thea's forehead before heading downstairs.

"Walter is bringing the car around," Moira says as they follow suit, "and Thea dear fix your dress, I do hope you two were using protection in there."

"Mom now is not the time for that!" Thea yelps in embarrassment realizing her dress is still half unzipped.

Well this certainly was the most eventful holiday Thea has had in a long time.

[littlecello]

Lazarus: An Autopsy

So. I just got back home, and though I have to get up at stupid o'clock for work tomorrow morning, I am sitting down at my computer to give you all as much of a detailed write-up of the table read as I can. Please bear in mind these are my and Fern's opinions personal opinions, so if you disagree with anything said here, that's totally fine! This is all coming from the perspective of people who have been in the fandom since 2012 and 2009 respectively, and both of us love the show very dearly.

Now, without further ado - here is a summary and discussion of the table-read of the pilot episode of Lazarus. The detailed write-up is under the cut, but I want to share this shaky train-doodle I banged out on the way home to give shape to my own feelings:

Set Up

This was a dramatic table-read, meaning actors were sat on stage, taking the roles of the main and side characters, plus one narrator who read out the scene-set ups in the script. This was a complete reading of the pilot-episode as it would have aired on TV, complete with songs playing over the speakers as they appeared in the show (off the top of my head - Another Brick In The Wall, Somewhere Over The Rainbow (Ukulele Version), Life on Mars (yes they went there), Merry Christmas Everybody, and several more). It's important to note that this was not performed by the original actors; rather, they brought in a troupe of actors associated with the BFI, called the BFI Players. Unfortunately they aren't credited on the BFI website and there were no printed programme notes, so I can't tell you their names. Notably, though, Ashley Pharoah (co-writer of LoM) was present; after the table-read, there was a short-ish Q&A session.

Lazarus Pilot: A Summary

We start in 2024, with a car chase. Sam Tyler, now DCI of Internal Affairs of Greater Manchester Police, is hot on the pursuit of a Constable who we later learn has raped multiple women while on duty. Notably, Sam is driving exactly the way Gene would, ignoring regulations, nearly running over pedestrians and a cyclist. Sam apprehends the PC on the campus of Manchester University, which is filmed by the assembled students of the lecture that's been interrupted (a quote from the script: "heteronormative queer trans students") - that video subsequently goes viral as another example of police violence. It's clear that the PC is guilty of his crime, but he's let off, and most of CID pretty much turns against Sam. Sam's DI, incidentally, is biromantic and asexual, which is also turned into a joke with Sam making some acephobic remarks.

The next day, Sam finds the rapist PC dead - hanging from a lamppost as though he's died by suicide. CCTV reveals that about an hour before his death, a car idled in front of his home, and the PC had hurled abuse at said car. The driver cannot be seen. That same car is seen at a carehome in Didsbury, idling there just like it did in front of that house... and that car is also confronted, by none other than a geriatric Gene Hunt.

Here is where we start to realise that this Sam is different. It seems he never went back to 1973. He never had that accident, he never met Gene Hunt - he is, however, married to Annie Cartwright (only until half of the episode though, at which point she says they need to get a divorce). A lot of anachronisms going on here, but those will get explained a little later in the episode. Sam also starts having visions - first of a Space Hopper that keeps passing him by, later Clangers from the Planet of the Clangers appear to him. He keeps remembering lines we've heard in Life on Mars ("I never stitched anyone up who didn't deserve it", "If you can feel things you are alive, but it's when you can't feel things that you know you aren't alive", etc). Eventually, he goes to visit Gene in the care home and invites him for a drive, to see if that will jog any memories.

Gene, however, has other ideas - he eventually forces Sam to stop by the roadside, insisting "I'm going back! I'm going BACK!" The two start arguing, and then it devolves into a physical fight, which pushes them into the road... at which point, they are both his by a car. A red Audi Quattro, in fact, and just as everything fades to black, we see someone with white cowboy boots and a white leather jacket get out of the car...

1977. Sam wakes up utterly hungover in the Cortina, next to Gene who's driving. These are their 70s selves. They get to the station, where they find out that they've both been suspended due to Gene assaulting the Superintendent ("I didn't assault him, I strategically placed him... in a bin."). The department has been disbanded and taken over by none other than Derek Litton. Sam and Gene leave, with Sam driving home... to his wife Annie. On his way, he realises that he must have dreamt about 2024, and obviously doesn't understand what is going on. He talks to Annie about it, who becomes upset that he's starting to talk about all the future stuff again. It becomes clear that the case that Sam was investigating in 2024 (the dead rapist PC) is mirrored in 1977. And, crucially, near the end of the episode we realise that Gene also has memories of what we saw happen in 2024... and just at the end, when Annie is on her own, she suddenly sees the video footage mentioned at the very top (the fight at the MU) playing on the TV, and realises that Sam was telling the truth.

The Good

Let me start with the really enjoyable part of this afternoon - the actors who performed the script for us. They all did a brilliant job, especially Sam's actor. I'm pretty sure he must have studied up on John Simm's performance, because he got Sam's tone and cadence so closely to the original that I could really believe he was the character. The production was done well too, with the songs being played over the speaker system; plus, the narrator was absolutely brilliant at setting the scene, reading the descriptive bits of the script with loads of character and humour. The other actors were great too (Litton got a fantastic impression). The only one I wasn't convinced by was Gene's actor, because he gave his Manc accent a very theatric drawl that sometimes made him sound like a pirate. Definitely didn't come close to Philip Glenister's brilliant delivery of his lines.

Speaking of lines, there were some genuinely funny jokes in this. The whole scene with Litton was hilarious, and some of the modern-day jokes landed quite well too (Sam's DI pulls an "ok boomer" on him, to which he responds "that's Gen X I'll have you know").

And of course, I have to mention that it was SO LOVELY to meet a bunch of you in person!!!! It was lovely to chat, and thank you especially to @bisexualroger and friends who came and said hello, you genuinely made my day 🥹 The Bad

Sigh. Buckle up.

This table-reading really cemented for me what I've been saying for several years: The writing in Life on Mars is very mediocre. What made the show so amazing and special was the fact that the crew and actors took that material and elevated it to the heights we know and love. If you take that away... All of its shortcomings become very glaring.

This was even more obvious with Lazarus. Although we have to remember that this was a pilot, which means it was basically a sales pitch to studios and as such they tried to cram as much exciting stuff into it as possible, on the whole it just came across as very confused and embarrassingly self-referential. The characters often (but not always) came across as caricatures of themselves. The script often pointed out the race/ethnicity of characters in ways that felt very unnecessary and strange (more on that later). Most of the dialogue that took place in 2024 was incredibly stilted (again, more on that in a little bit). Most crucially, although it's clear that Lazarus was trying to bring Life on Mars and Ashes to Ashes together to tie them up in a neat little bow, it just felt far too all over the place, even for a set-up episode (Lazarus as a whole was planned to be two series with 6 episodes each, like LoM). The Ugly

Basically, this show was supposed to be commentary on the present-day commentary between the public and the police... written from the perspective of two Old White Men(tm) with an unhealthy amount of nostalgia for the past who seem to think of the police as literal guardian angel, which is why they made Gene an actual angel (this is confirmed by what Ashley told us the ending of Lazarus would have been, which I will write up tomorrow because this would be too much for this post).

So, what does that mean in practice? It means that everything that was set in 2024 was an absolute shitshow. There were jokes about "wokeness" in every scene - things such as gender identities, diversity, ethnic food, vegan food, recycling, climate activism and more were only ever played for laughs, with a clear emphasis that everything was better in the "good old days". Especially all the jokes about gender and sexuality made me so angry, seeing as the fandom who has kept the show alive for the last 10 years is overwhelmingly queer.

Worse than that, this show would have been absolutely choc-full of copaganda. We already learn in the pilot that the entire philosophy is that "bad cops" are simply "rotten apples" that need to be removed from the force, which can only happen from the inside (this is Sam's role as DCI of Internal Affairs). And also, the public are just way too mean to cops, for no reason whatsoever - this is very literally shown in a scene in 2024 where a male PC touches a drunk woman's arm in sympathy and she yells at him "DON'T TOUCH ME", whereas in a mirrored scene in 1977 we see a PC giving a woman advice, who seems to be extremely grateful for it and even squeezes his hand for it. Which, if you know ANYTHING about what was going in Manchester at the time, in the wake of the Yorkshire Ripper and the associated police failings, is laughable at best, and an insult at worst.

Furthermore, during the Q&A, Ashley Pharoah unintentionally told on himself and Matthew Graham. I'm paraphrasing, but he basically said that when they both realised during the watchalong on twitter back in 2021 there still were a lot of fans of the show, that's when they felt compelled to properly give Lazarus a go. It very much came across as him saying "we loved the attention and wanted more of it, oh and also we thought we had something to say about the state of affairs regarding the police". Which, as I have laid out above, frankly is a sick joke. After everything that's happened - the protests in 2020, the way police forces in the whole country handled the Sarah Everard case, the fact that the current Chief Superintendent of GMP is an old conservative guy - the fact that Matt and Ash had the audacity to shop a show like Lazarus around to be picked up for TV is... astonishing. The confidence of white men, eh?

In Conclusion

Both Fern and I are very, extremely glad that Lazarus was not, and never will be made into a TV show. We are very glad that we get to keep Sam, Gene, Annie and all the others as they are. And we are also very glad that we went to this table-read, since we can now stop wondering what could have been. It's done and dusted. And, funnily enough, this has invigorated my fandom fire for LoM. I now want to create art of the characters I've come to know and love, to reinforce who they are to me. They are our characters now, Ashley and Matt. You don't get to play with them anymore. You don't get to twist them and put them through the wringer.

Tl;Dr

[littlewriterfullofwords]

Merry Christmas

Parring: Dr. Spencer Reid x gn!reader

Summary: You throw some Christmas party at your house where you show the BAU team your traditiona

Warnings: fluff

A/N: Hi! So, I'm currently in the 2nd season of CM, so there aren't more characters or anything, I'm new to the series, kinda, so please forgive. Second, the traditions in the ff are my country's traditions. Feel free to share yours in the comments!

"Merry Christmas!" Penelope opened her arms to hug you at the doorframe, big smile decorating her beautiful face. "Thank you for the invitation, sweetheart."

"I'm glad you came." You moved a bit to the side to let your coworker come in. "Make yourself at home, Pen."

"Sure will do." She winked at you and started to walk around your house, from time to time she was making nice comments about the decor.

The next person to come was Spencer. In a red sweater, Mr. "I know it all" greeted you with little, and cute, hand waving, his iconic move.

And after him, the others came in, in the order: Jason, Emily with JJ, Aaron and Derek.

"Your Christmas is a lot different than ours." Started Emily when you put another fish on the table.

"Yeah. Only 12 dishes? You have to try everything? That's insane." Murmured Derek with a glass of dried-fruit juice. "Where did you all get that from?"

"The Bible." Before you could answer, Spencer was faster. "You know, according to the Bible, there were 12 apostles so Catholic countries put 12 dishes on the Christmas table. They also leave an empty seat for an unannounced guest or, more spiritual, for those that had died."

"Yeah." You nodded with a smile. "That's right. Just the tradition, nothing more."

"Tradition is good." Whispered Gideon. "Tells a lot about the person."

"Once again, thank you for having us." Hotchner interrupted the info dump. "It might be a new experience for us, but that's life, right? We learning."

"Oh, stop. You making my angel blush!" Garcia petted your back in a soothing manner but with a smile on her face.

You were glad they came. Hey, they were family and Christmas is family time. You needed them now due to your family being all dead.

After dinner, came the present time! Everyone gathered in the living room and Derek, with a red Santa's hat, started to dispense the presents. Of course, he had to add something funny before giving it to the final owner, which has been making everyone laugh.

The atmosphere was amazing. It felt family-like and you didn't want it to go away any moment soon.

"It's party time!" Said Morgan, and with Emily by his side, they opened champagne and other alcoholic drinks they had brought.

Immediately , it reminded you of New Year Eve and the party your friends had always thrown. There was always lots of alcohol, music, dancing and many more.

"Let's go!" JJ grabbed your wrist and pulled into the dancing circle, you had no other choice but to join them, and you did.

Saying you weren't having the best time of your life would be a lie. You were so happy with those people, you were ready to call the your fucking family, and in your head you were. You loved each of them in your own way, and you hoped they noticed that. Well, they were profilers, they sure did.

The clock on the wall was showing 3:15am, with its quiet ticking interrupting the quiet carols. You turned off the tap in the kitchen and dried your hands. Everyone was asleep, either on the couch, armchairs or floor while you had been washing the dishes and cleaning after the party.

As quiet as possible, you came back to the living room with blankets and covered everyone with one, you didn't want them to catch a cold.

"Happy Christmas." You whispered with a shy smile before you started walking to the stairs.

"Happy Christmas, Y/N." The quiet voice of Reid's made you stop in the half way and smile again before you looked his way.

"I thought you were sleeping. Sorry if I woke you up."

"You didn't, don't worry." He shook his head with his innocent smile you liked so much.

"Would you like to join me for a movie?" You hesitated some time before asking that, it was your little secret.

"Sure." Spencer lifted himself from the armchair and came up to you, then followed you upstairs.

You had this thing, you needed to watch your favourite movie after Christmas Eve to fall asleep. It was hard to explain why only this time of year but you didn't complain. You loved the movie, so it was a pleasure.

"If you don't mind, we will watch 'The Nightmare before Christmas'." You said when you finally reached your room and turned on the TV.

"Whatever you want. I'm fine with that." Spencer sat next to you, on the floor by the bed and placed his head on his knees. "Did you know that Tim Burton only produced the movie, not directed it?"

"I read it somewhere. But thank you for reminding me that." A little smile appeared on your lips before you clicked 'play' and the movie began.

Only a few minutes of the movie passed and in the corner of your eye you saw Spencer rock back and forth.

"You know you can say that, right?" You whispered with your head turned his way and a smile. "That's okay. Go on."

"Did you know that Danny Elfman only voices Jack's singing, not his spoken voice?" With your permission, Reid lets out his kept breath, what made you chuckle, and he started to talk. "He also voices two other characters, Barrel and the Clown."

"Really? That's so amazing." You whispered. "It's good to have you by my side."

"Oh, that's... nothing big." Spencer scratched the back of his head in a shy manner.

You moved on with the movie, with Reid giving you some fun facts about it. And even though you knew all that, you'd been a fan since day one, you've been listening carefully like if you didn't know them. You loved listening to Spencer, you loved his knowledge and how passionately he was sharing it. You loved... Spencer. You liked it or not, you were in love with him and his knowledge.

Unluckily, the movie ended, so did your time with Reid.

"Thank you for your company." You said and turned the TV off. "And thank you for coming...to the party. I had the best time."

"We should be thankful." Chuckled Spencer. "You taught us a lot. We now understand more."

"Don't tell me you don't profile each other on a daily basis?" You joked.

"We do....At least I do. Especially Hotch." Reid looked at the open door as if Aaron was about to come in. "He's the easiest to read."

"True." You both laughed but immediately hushed it because you remembered about sleepyheads downstairs. "Especially his mood."

Your coworker smiled and nodded his head as an agreement.

You both were going along very well, even too well sometimes, from Emily's point of view (good meaning). She really often has been telling you, that you and Spenc were acting like siblings.

"If you want, you can stay here." You offered when Reid started to get up from the ground, you didn't think what were you saying.

"I-...A-... I'll go downstairs. I have my stuff there." He looked hesitant and a bit embarrassed, especially his eyes were hesitant.

"Sure." You nodded and watched him leave the room. "Spenc."

Seconds after him leaving, you called after him and ran up to him.

"Yeah?" Asked Reid with confusion.

"Merry Christmas." Shy kiss was planted on Spencer's cheek before you turned around and disappeared behind the door to your room.

"Me-....merry Christmas." Whispered the man while touching the place your lips touched.

[wintervalewritersecond]

christmas miracle - wednesday addams

requested: yes! requests: open! Is it possible for a wednesday x reader where after the battle of Crackstone and going home Wednesday realize that she has feelings for Reader and fast forward to nearing christmas Reader visits Wednesday to give her a present reader promised back at Nevermore and before reader left, wednesday tells reader her feelings but needs time to process it because she is not use to romantic feelings?

A/N: merry christmas! <3 i tried to incorporate some addams family tv show and musical elements in it as well :') I'm sorry if it feels rushed, i wanted to have it finished before Christmas ended <3

wordcount: 2,144 warnings: they/them pronouns, characters may be ooc.

A Christmas miracle has come true when Wednesday reveals her emotions to you. In a way.

"Oh, hello darling! Lurch, get their bags, will you?"

Morticia Addams opened the door with a smile on her face. Her eyeshadow is as black as night and her lips are painted a bloody red, though you guess it fits the Christmas theme as well. You had been invited to the Addams household this Christmas. Your own parents were not going to be home and back at Nevermore you had promised Wednesday a gift. After exchanging multiple letters, she had invited you.

You were excited to celebrate it with her. You were used to the whole Santa Claus tradition, but you knew that Wednesday had something else prepared. Lurch then takes hold of your bags, already up the stairs so place them in Wednesday's room.

"I can not believe we finally have one of Wednesday's friends over. Please, let me show you around."

You follow the tall lady through the hall and into the living room. On your way to it, you can already see tons of strange and unusual decorations. A small guillotine stood in the hallway, a beheaded Marie Antoinette doll resting next to it, though the head seemed to be missing.

"Ah, that is a gift Wednesday once received. Oh, how she loved that guillotine. She even had it on a birthday cake once."

You could have guessed that. Wednesday has become your best friend in the last semester, so you knew exactly what the girl liked or disliked. A guillotine at the age of seven? She would have been thrilled. Finally, you enter the living room.

It is absolutely grand. Luxurious fabrics and curtains, tons of taxidermy, a dark piano, and a noose hanging from the ceiling. Though you are not nearly as dark as Wednesday or her family, you surely did find all of it interesting.

"Wednesday!"

The pig-tailed girl walks down the stairs, her face stoic, yet it looks like she is enjoying herself much more than she did at Nevermore.

"Y/N, welcome. I hope you like our Christmas decorations," Wednesday looks over at the dead Christmas tree which stands in the middle of the room.

"Oh, of course!" You smile, looking at your friend.

She is wearing something similar to her usual attire. A black dress with white accents, yet not too many. You recall her saying that that would take away from her ability to look ghostly.

"This tree has been in our family for years," Morticia mumbles dreamily, "It belonged to Gomez, you know!"

Gomez walks out of the same entrance that Wednesday had come out of, his suit crisp and nicely ironed. A big smile is on his face as he greets you, also gesturing to the tree.

"Yes, I picked this many moons ago! I took each and every prickly needle out of it myself. I was so convinced that Santa Claus would hang more on it that way."

Gomez and Morticia share a loving look, making Wednesday's nose scrunch up lightly before stepping closer to you. She hated to see her parents so... In love. The emotion itself already made her have rashes on her skin, and not the ones she enjoys.

-

The dinner had gone splendidly. You had heard tons of stories from when Wednesday and Pugsley were younger, how Morticia and Gomez met, and much more.

"Ah, the game," Gomez takes another bite of his food. "You know, Morticia is amazing at organizing those. One time, we tried to invite some parents over. You know, there was a whole incident with the pool and the piranhas, so we tried to make it up to them. A beautiful dinner made by Morticia, and our family tradition has always been the game."

"What is the game?" You curiously asked, your plate already empty. Morticia's cooking was truly extraordinary.

"Well, we have one called 'Full disclosure', and-"

"Okay, Father. That is enough. I am sure that Y/N can wait with hearing that."

Wednesday pushes her chair back before looking at you.

"Let us retire to the bedroom. The bright Christmas lights are giving me a migraine and it makes me want to hit my head with a hammer."

The girl already walked off without waiting for you to respond. You look from Wednesday to the rest of the table, quickly thanking them for the dinner and stories before hurrying after your friend.

Wednesday is standing at the door that leads to her bedroom. You had never seen her house before, and Wednesday was also not the person who would talk about her home all too much.

"You will be sleeping in my room. We would have given you the spare room, but Pugsley is still working on his taxidermy."

"Ah, no problem. Besides, I have had sleepovers at your dorm before."

The girl grimaces.

"Unlike those horrid happenings, there are no pink glitters and bright neon nail polish here. I would rather set myself on fire than see any of that today."

She opens the door before walking in. Your bags have been set in the middle of the room, neatly organized by size. Wow, Lurch is organized.

The room has the same elements as the dorm that Wednesday slept in at Nevermore. A typewriter, record player, her cello standing in the corner, and Thing patiently sitting on the bed.

"Thing! I haven't seen you in ages," you laugh, sitting down next to the hand. "I got you a small gift."

You rummage through your bags, trying to find the small tube of hand cream.

"A-ha!" You hold it above your head, a grin on your face. "Your favorite! It was the last one in Jericho!"

If a hand could jump, it would have. You place the small tube next to him as Thing tightly grabs onto it.

"Great," Wednesday says. "His ego is going to go through the roof. For only a hand, he sure has a lot of nerve."

"Oh, come on, Wednesday! And besides, you know that I got you a gift as well. I promised you back at Nevermore."

Wednesday knew you promised her. You had written about it in multiple letters, ones that the girl kept in a small box. She thought your letters were disgustingly sweet. It is like you sprayed your sugary-smelling perfume on each thin piece of paper. After everything went down with Crackstone, you had written to each other much more. Wednesday still hates technology, and she wants to avoid it as much as she can.

She looks you up and down, raising one eyebrow.

"Well. I might have something in return."

She didn't tell you that. You look at her before blinking once, reaching into your bag yet again. Last week it was finally finished. You don't quite know what to expect. She might hate it, but she might also not mind it. A package comes out of your bag, neatly wrapped in black wrapping paper and closed with a thick, black ribbon. Who knew that black paper was so hard to find.

You step closer to the girl, the gift in your hands and a smile on your face. Wednesday is curious, one eyebrow still raised. What could you have ever gotten her?

"It uh... It's a small set. Couldn't decide what to do," you let out a laugh. "I can always get rid of it somewhere. If you don't like it."

Wednesday takes your gift, carefully opening the ribbon before lifting the top of the box off. Inside are two smaller packages.

She opens the biggest one. Inside is a doll that seems to be split in half. Only the head is in the box, and Wednesday knows it all too much. It matches the doll from her childhood too well.

"Marie Antoinette. The one from my guillotine."

Wednesday runs her fingers over the small details of the dollface. The eyes look as lifeless as ever, the eyelids opening and closing when the head gets moved forwards or backward.

Only once was the doll mentioned to you. Wednesday remembered losing the head while trying to scare her classmates, and she never found it back. That is, until now.

"Yeah. I saw the guillotine. Wild for a 9-year-old," you laugh. "Open the next one. It's better. I hope."

Better than the first gift? Is it a real beheaded body?

The box is a bit smaller than the one that contained the doll head, though a bit heavier. In it hides a wooden plaque, neatly stained with some type of varnish. A scorpion, its tail curled and its claws seeming to be ready to clip. The small silver plate says 'Nero' in a handwritten font. It was put on there quite messily.

"I tried to take a taxidermy class. I know you really loved Nero, and I know that this isn't exactly the same, but I hope you still like it. I fucked up his legs a bit."

One of his legs was indeed a bit crooked, but Wednesday didn't care. Her eyes are fixated on the small scorpion as she almost seems to be pulled back into her childhood memories. Her silence makes you nervous. You are used to Wednesday being quiet and only using her gaze to shutting people up, but this silence is different.

She truly is at a loss for words. No one had ever been this thoughtful with gifts for the girl. Not when her cake existed out of a functioning guillotine, not when her mother had let her visit a funeral home for the first time, and not when Pugsley allowed her to bury him alive on his birthday.

"No," she nods. "It looks exactly like him."

You let out a breath that you didn't know you were holding. Thank god she liked it. Taxidermy used to freak you out, but after being surrounded by things much darker than it, you got over it quite fast.

The scorpion gets placed in an empty space on her desk, that is where Wednesday spent most of her time anyway. But, her gift for you is also there. A small, tiny box is hidden in the drawer.

Wednesday doesn't feel nervous. She never has. Though now, her dead heart seems to be beating. It feels like she will throw up, her throat feels tight and she doesn't know what to say.

"Thing, leave us."

Thing doesn't care. All he wants is to use the hand creme. He runs out with the bottle of creme in his grip as the door closes back behind him. Wednesday then turns around, the small box now in her hands before walking over to you. She sticks her arm out, staring at you before you take the box carefully.

"I feel like I now should answer your letter. In real life."

She gestures for you to open the box, and it reveals a small ring with her initial on it. It looks exactly like the necklace that she wears herself.

"My mother and father might believe in unconditional love, but I always thought it was fake. Emotions are what makes you weak, and I have tried to avoid them as long as I could," she continues. "They make you feel disgusting. I want to rip all my hair out, strand by strand. You make me want to bite off all my fingers as I get electrocuted at the same time."

You look up at her, your eyes sparkling and a smile on your face.

"This means I... like you," she mutters. "But, on one condition."

Whatever condition it is, you will take it. You had expressed your interest on Wednesday before, but she was quick to shut you off. She insisted that she was not the person you would want to be with, trying to scare you off. You respected her choice as the two of you still decided to stay befriended. But this news is the best Christmas present you might have ever received.

"Anything."

"I need time. I am not used to any type of romantic feelings. I need to figure this out on my own. Seeing my parents being so sweet with each other makes me want to stab myself until I bleed out. Just... time."

You slip the ring onto your finger. A perfect fit.

"Wednesday Addams, I would kill for you if that is what it takes."

A small smirk forms on her face.

"Now, don't excite me too much."

You stand up, admiring your ring before opening your arms to give the girl a hug. An 'oh' leaves your mouth when you realize what you did as you drop your hands, just smiling at the girl. She looks at you before sighing.

"Only. One."

A Christmas miracle. Truly.

[iceman-kazansky]

Two Halves of a Heartbeat, Beating as One

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

Merry Christmas @currahee! I'm your secret Santa!

Request: a character who assumes they won't get a gift for Christmas, only to be pleasantly surprised.

Pairings: Ronald Speirs x f!reader

Warnings: Death, depression, probably swearing, kissing

A/n: Hey! I've never seen your account prior to this, so I'm glad to have you as my designated Secret Santa gift receiver!! I hope this is tailored to your liking, and I hope you like this! Merry Christmas and happy new year! :)

Taglist: @inglourious-imagines || (If you'd like to join my taglist; submit a form here!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥

The days slowly melted past one by one, very scarce new events occurring. Every day was a repeat of the one before. Countless shelling from the artillery located just across the clearing. The never ending supply of dead soldiers soaring as morale stooped to an all time low.

Everyone was on the verge of their breaking point.

Through the harshness of Sobel in Toccoa, all the way to Holland, the 506th had been through so much death and destruction yet had remained steadfast throughout it all.

But now, in the company's arguably darkest time, the regiment became ever-fragile. The exhausted soldiers couldn't handle any more of this.

False promises of the war ending before Christmas had become what kept the 506th going, but as the day ticked closer and closer that hope began to dwindle.

Everyone, no matter the transparency each individual experienced as the thought dawned on them, knew they weren't going home for the holiday. They never were.

Dragging yourself from those wretched thoughts, you exhale softly, your breath creating a thick fog that rises and dissipates nearly as fast as it first appeared in the cold afternoon air. Even now, where all you could focus on was the numbness of your fingers, the air held a certain briskness to it that made your throat and nostrils burn when you inhaled.

‘Now is not the time for such dark thoughts’ you think to yourself, shaking your head as if to knock some sense into yourself.

Those thoughts, the one that let reality set in a little too far, were killers. Even just a mere drop in a soldier's ability to keep strong mentally on the frontlines ultimately affected their physical well-being aswell. In a time as dire as war, a drop in strength translated directly to a meaningless death.

In the distance, you could hear the crunching of feet on snow growing increasingly closer.

“Sergeant,” The voice is firm, yet recognizable. You glance up at the mysterious figure who approaches, once again ripped from the storm of endless thoughts brewing within your very mind.

Ronald Speirs.

You instantly recognize Dog companies CO. An intimidating man surrounded by rumors he'd never bothered to confirm nor deny. Yet, a handsome man. His face is one of chiseled beauty, like a Greek god. Something you'd been sure to notice over your countless interactions. Since you'd known him, Speirs had treated you equally despite being the only female in the 506th. Something you admired.

Ever since your first weeks at Toccoa, you’d taken a special interest in Speirs, and naturally you’d gotten a lot closer.

Speirs isn't one to dawdle, so he gets right to the point, “Sergeant, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”

“Go ahead,” you reply through chattering teeth, sore from clenching them closed so often.

"What are your plans for Christmas this year, if we go back to the states?"

Even in the cold, you can feel your cheeks flushing red. He wants to know what you're christmas plans are?

Not answering immediately, letting the words sink in as you formulate a response, “You don't seriously believe that?" You chuckle dryly at last, "I thought of all people you'd be the most sensible."

"No, I don't," he replies after a moment of silence, "but everyone at least has some plans this holiday. A hope. I wanted to know what yours was." You could've sworn you'd seen him shift his gaze away momentarily, but his face was shadowed by his bulky helmet, obscuring your vision of his beautiful face.

"That everyone wouldn't be me, then," you avert your attention momentarily to his lips, but shake your head in disgust at yourself, what were you looking at? He was your superior! "What about you, captain? Any plans yourself?"

"I was going to visit family if we went back. But, seeing as that isn't happening anytime soon, I thought I'd settle on a gift for someone here." He responds.

“Who would that lucky person be?” You ask, curious who the CO might be referring to. You think back to the town of Bastogne, the town a few klicks away, and all the people for him to choose from.

“I'm still not sure.” he shrugs, standing abruptly and moving away silently, leaving you puzzled and alone.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

Christmas day had arrived grimly, the promise of being home by this day long forgotten and farfetched.

The Germans on the other side of the clearing were fortunately nice enough to halt the bombing for the day, leaving the front lines oddly quiet for the first time in weeks.

Despite this, morale wasn't very high. Nobody in the 506th wanted to be in the frozen-hell they were right then.

Standing and unable to withstand the boredom of your foxhole any longer you left to relieve yourself momentarily.

Upon standing, your limbs ached, stiff and sore from the cramped position you'd stayed in for multiple hours, and your feet numb while you stumbled the first few steps. You remembered Doc Roe's countless warnings to the 506th about trench foot. Something you wanted to be certain you wouldn't catch. Perhaps you should invest more time in moving about.

It didn't take long to finish your business, and you figured you ought to head back to the safety of your foxhole soon. Afterall, you never knew when the next shelling would occur, the Germans were unpredictable. You wouldn't doubt they'd go beyond cruelty and bomb the 506th on a day like today. And that was something you absolutely didn't want to be out of your foxhole for. You'd seen the destruction left in their wake countless times.

Your feet crunching loudly in the fresh snow was all you could think of as you retraced your steps back to the front lines. Along the way you passed a few E company members, smiling a little at them and wishing them a short ‘Merry Christmas’ as you trudged past.

Ahead, your empty foxhole beckoned and as you drew near your excitement at the small warmth it provided grew rapidly. You prepare to jump in, but pause at the sight of a small cardboard box nestled at the bottom. The peanut-coloured box appeared as vibrant as blood in the dull white and gray surroundings.

Jumping into your hole, you're careful not to crush the delicate box while you move into a sitting position, pulling it into your lap.

Curiosity consumes you as you open it carefully, revealing a small silver object, a thin wool blanket and a pristine white letter.,

Taking the necklace out you raise it to your face for examination. The pendant was long, and had a natural shimmering silver allure to it. At one end, a small, smooth heart was suspended by the lengthy yet elegant chain. It was beautiful. You gasped as you moved it around in your palm, a large smile pulling at your lips.

Carefully, you fastened the necklace around your neck, looking down to admire it settled against your collarbone once more. Not wasting any more time, you moved onto the next object. An army-issued blanket. Something the company should've been guaranteed before it came to Bastogne, but was never supplied. You took it out, taking care not to lose the letter you had yet to open. How did your mystery sender manage to get their hands on this? However they did it must've been tough, they were in demand everywhere. The material was wool, and you could almost imagine the warmth it provided.

After a short examination of the blanket you were eager to move to the last object, a letter. Grabbing the object and letting your fingers run over the grainy surface momentarily before pulling open the seal to reveal the neatly-folded contents.

Unfolding the letter you're stunned at the lack of words, but regardless begin reading;

Dear Sergeant,

I hope you enjoy these gifts. Merry Christmas.

Signed, Ronald C. Speirs.

Speirs got you these? Hardly containing your smile, you close the letter once more, slipping it into your pocket and getting out of your foxhole, leaving the blanket and box behind.

It took every ounce of strength you had to not run as fast as you could to his assigned tent, instead maintaining a brisk walk. However, something you couldn’t contain was the dopey smile that tugged itself onto your face as you moved, your heart pounding in your chest and your face flushed a bright scarlet.

As you drew near, your pace quickened ever so slightly, your mind urging you to move faster than your legs would allow. You were itching at the prospect of seeing him. Finally reaching the sepia coloured tent, it’s walls faded and worn from the harsh uses it had endured throughout the war, you say “Permission to enter, sir?” from the other side of the tent wall.

His husky voice answers from within the tent, allowing you entry immediately after your request. Without further ado, you step in, blinking to readjust your eyes. In the shadowed room, you make eye contact with Speirs. “I wanted to thank you for the gifts, sir.” You say, not quite sure how to properly thank him.

“Please, just call me Ron,” he corrects, smiling softly at you. A sight so beautiful and rare you can't help but stare in awe. He stands when you enter, maneuvering out from behind his desk.

“Then call me Y/n,” you counter, mirroring his smile.

After a moments pause where nothing is said, you resume, “Ron, do you mind me asking why?” You say hesitantly, unfamiliar with the use of his true name, seeming like all formalities were tossed aside, “Why me?”

He looked at you with an odd unnamed emotion, yet so familiar. It seems like a millenia passes before he replies, “I have admired you since we've met, Y/n.” He pauses to allow the words to sink in, watching your expression closely, “Ever since I first laid eyes on you, I've always been set on you. You drive me crazy. When you step into a room, you're all I can look at. Everything else is irrelevant. When you talk, your voice echoes in my ears all day like a mothers lullaby.

“I've never wanted another woman so badly as i've wanted you before. I didn't care for the dames of Eindhoven like most men. I wanted you. And only you. I've come to the realization I love you, and I couldn't wait another day for you to carry on, not knowing.” he stops to drink in your features before he allows himself to continue, “It's alright if you don't feel the same. I know how terrible the timing is. I can't believe I allowed myself to become so vulnerable in a state of war.”

Without missing a beat you reply, “I feel the same.”

Truthfully, you can hardly believe your ears. It's like a dream come true. You'd loved Ron since he'd done that daring act with Dog Company and the batteries, and you swear you could've felt your own heart stop when he leaped out of that trench and ran, exposed, into the battery, guns blazing. You'd heard the rumors about him too, but they didn't scare you. In fact, they almost drew you in closer, with hopes of unravelling them yourself.

Without even noticing it, you and Ron had begun moving closer to each other, pulled by some other-worldly gravitational force. Drawn to each other like a moth to flame.

When he was within reach, he lifted up his hand, cupping your cheek while the gap grew smaller yet, your faces hovering inches from each other, “Can I kiss you?” he asks, eyes flitting down to your lips only to return once more to your eyes.

You couldn't speak, only administering a nod before he closed the gap.

His lips tasted of lucky strikes, something you wouldn't have thought to expect at first, and they pressed against yours passionately, releasing his inner tension. Your lips moved against his in a synchronized dance, two lovers moving against each other like twin moons in the sky, orbiting the same center. Like two halves of a heartbeat, beating as one.

Reluctantly, he pulled away breathless, resting his forehead against yours.

“I've never wanted more than to kiss you,” he sighs, “I love you.”

“I love you more, Ronnie,” You whisper back

[enrosadiraanisaaa]

Within Session .Part Six.

Holy shit, happy December and Merry Christmas y'all! I'm so happy to finally post another chapter of Within Session. Yes, its been a while but starting a new job is stressful. Thankfully, I figured how to manage time. This part is extremely long, more than 5k. words. I'm proud of myself! This fanfic consists of Yandere!Leon Kennedy. I intend for this fic to progressively become disturbing and fucked up with each chapter. While the first few chapters will be tamed, expect the following in this series:

~Stalking, Kidnapping, Forced Breeding, Degradation, NonCon, Gang Banging, Forced Pregnancy, Somnophilia, Blackmail, Manipulation, Abuse, Pet Names, Obsessive Behavior (Duh), Torture, Constraints, Mentions of Blood & Gore, Mental Degradation, Toxic Relationship, Sexual Abuse, Masturbation, Drugged & Drunk Sex, Loss of Virginity, Forced Penetration…

Also you will be retconned (Too bad 😏): Female Reader, 24 Years old and from Texas 💝 (yeehaw)

This story was purely written with RE 4 (Remake) Leon in mind. So no puppy dog Leon from RE2 or DILF Leon from later games & movies. The story takes place several months after the events of RE4. Yay, you’re in 2004!

I plan to make this series long and fleshed out, but I promise what you want will hit you like a train~🚂

This story does contain +18 content (NSFW) 🔞 If you’re a minor, please go read a real book or something, don’t cry to me when your mom finds your shit. 

Summary

As an on sight therapist for STRATCOM in Nebraska, you’re tasked with providing quality therapy for US military personnel and government agents. After working at the headquarters for 6 months, Hunnigan recommends you to a notable government agent, Leon Kennedy, who is in need of therapy. After a number of sessions with you, Leon notices a substantial stability in his sanity yet is threatened when you are offered a position back home, closer to your family and friends. Your choice doesn’t sit well with one particular client, who can’t fathom you out of your role as his therapist. Leon has found a means of keeping his precious therapist and realizes you are the key to his permanent solace. You were obviously destined to be his in some form. Why dream of him letting you go?

A\N: I was heavily inspired by Satoshi Kon’s Perfect Blue 💙, ExploreVenus’s Something Permanent and Guardian Angel by NexysWorld. We're finally getting into the nitty gritty of the story. Reminder that if you're not comfortable with male obsession and stalking, this is not for you. But if you're fucked up like me, please enjoy this! This is a really long chapter, hope y'all like it. 😉 Please comment on what how you feel about this chapter, I'm a whore for feedback. Hate it? Comment. Love it? Comment, por favor.

This is the longest chapter with 5k words, pretty much twice than I typically write for a chapter. Keep this in mind if you are wondering why, it seems longer.

Hope y'all enjoy the sixth part! More to come 💝~ Anisssa أنيسة

Here is Part One , Part Two, Part Three, Part Four and Part Five of Within Session

Blue Monday

  For several months, the disdain for the winter season was prominent as the days were still short of daylight. Along with the absence of familiar faces from family and friends from home, winter blues roused thoughts of returning to home. Even with the presence of Mateo and his buddies around at the house, it never satiated your homesickness. The transition into this New Year was strenuous, yet you continued the routine of attending to clients at the USSSTRATCOM headquarters during the week, the occasional LAN parties hosted on weekends with the dudes, and friend dates with Hunnigan. Still, you could not deny there were urges to pull out your suitcase and call quits on the government position. Home was not here in Nebraska. 

       Now in the middle of February, the extensive drive home seemed to kindle symptoms of burnout. Upon opening the entrance door to your apartment, the dead silence prompted your eyes to glance around the living room for the presence of your roommate, Mateo. For once you arrived home before him. With every step further into your living room, the floor boards seemed to creak under pressure. Your body immediately gravitates towards the couch, slumping on the cushions to sprawl out in exhaustion. In one hand, you gripped your purse while the other held a bouquet of flowers. 

      Until the last session earlier today, it did not dawn on you that today was Valentine's Day. Leon, of all people, arrived at session with a bouquet of roses in his possession with his usual smuggish smirk. The gesture caught you off guard that you simply accepted the bouquet without protest. This questionable offering from him was unpredicted, a moment of vulnerability impelling you to accidentally violate a simple policy between client and therapist. 

     A groan emits from your mouth, decisively kicking off the heels to note how sore your feet were. No doubt the roses in your hand were beautiful, but they were from a client on this particular holiday. You grunt in disapproval, instead eliciting to assume he gifted the roses for his appreciation for your dedication to him as his therapist. Yes, those thoughts brought peace of mind. But you then realized the price tag sticker on the bottom of the bouquet. 

      “Holy fuck! Who spends $80 on a bouquet of roses? Well shit, now I’ll feel guilty if I toss them out… Dammit, Leon…” 

          Leon Kennedy, a client you have been providing treatment with for the last three months since November. Along with his substantial progress in his intervention goals, you had the opportunity to further learn about the peculiar character that is Leon. Every session he never failed to crack jokes on whim or comment snide remarks, his attempt to speak off topic. Beside his efforts to conceal his discomfort with humor, there was also an underlying suspicion that Leon was withholding details regarding certain discussions. He avoids topics through escape by immediately steering the conversation. Every instance that Leon avoids a subject, you take note of it, knowing somehow you would eventually touch base on it.  

      With the bouquet of roses in your hand, you notice several detached rose petals on the couch cushion. A pang of guilt coursed in your chest, registering the maltreatment of the flowers in your grasp. Despite the aching pain in your feet, you stand from the couch to walk to the kitchen in search of a vase. You were no flower arranger but the glass vase you found complimented the red of the petals. Next session you would have to bestow some gratitude to Leon, since the guy deserves some appreciation for the gift. Maybe the man really was trying to express his reverence, Valentine’s Day was not all about romance, right?

       In the moment of admiring the roses you placed in the glass vase, you realize that it has been a while since you have received something like this from anyone. While you let out a gentle huff, your hands reach out to rearrange several roses until you were appeased with the arrangement. Then the abrupt ringing of your phone from your pocket interrupted your trance from the vase of roses, a phone number unbeknownst to you displayed on the small screen of the flip phone. 

     ‘It’s an area code from Texas… is it from San Antonio, Dallas, or Austin? But who calls late on a Monday night?’ You decipher, debating the thought to answer the call knowing the area code was from one of the major metroplex cities. 

    This time you sigh, adjusting your throat to answer in a pleasant tone. “Uh, hello?” You greet hesitantly, holding the pink flip phone to your ear. 

     A gentle feminine voice responds with “Hello…” along with your full name.

     The utterance of your first and last name from the unknown voice nearly startles you to the core, immediately furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. 

    “This is her… Uh, who are you?” You ask, slight concern obvious in your question. Was this call a scam?

    On the other end of the line, the female voice chuckles lightly into the phone,”Sorry to call this late, I am from a counseling program partnered with a foster care facility based here in Austin. We are looking for new recruits with the right credentials.  I came across your application from a year ago and I am curious if you would still be interested in doing an interview and perhaps be interested in joining our team? From your application, I can see your address is in Corpus Christi.” 

      At that moment you seat yourself on a chair in the dining room, glancing at the adorned vase of roses on the dining room table. This was an unmistakable opportunity that manifested itself in one phone call, but you could not allow yourself to become excited so soon.

     “Unfortunately, I am not living in Texas at the moment. I actually took a therapist position here in Omaha, Nebraska. I won’t be able to schedule an interview, I apologize,” You express in a solemn tone, assuming this would end the conversation. 

     “Oh, if you don’t mind…. We can do an interview right now over the phone.” The lady mentions, followed by silence on her end. 

       You direct your eyes at a digital clock in the distance, noticing the time was a little past 9PM, which meant no minutes were being wasted. 

      “Sure, why not…” You respond, guessing this opportunity was unprecedented to simply dismiss.

        For the next 30 minutes, you were asked a series of questions, mostly about your experience and qualities. In your efforts, you answer professionally while you slug against the dinning chair in exhaustion. Your hand became cramped as you gripped the flip phone to your ear. Every time you glimpse back to the vase of roses, you notice several petals shed from the roses. With one rose petal, you twindle it between your fingers as you speak to the woman over the phone. 

         “I’m impressed with you, I really think you would be a great addition to our team. I’d like to offer a full time position, with a Monday through Friday schedule. Instead of hourly, you will be paid a salary with benefits. If you need help with moving, we can pay your first few months of rent wherever you decide to move in Austin. How does that sound?” The lady expresses, seemingly to be entirely impressed with you. 

      For a moment, you were hesitant as the offer seemed too good to be true. “When can I start?” You then ask, feeling the sweat in your palm as you grip the phone to your ear.

      “Since you said you’re out living in Nebraska, I can give you a month… March 14th on a Monday, and we will run a background check and proof that you can work in the US. Nothing major, it’s usually quick. For any certifications you need, we will pay for them…” The woman explains, her voice cheery with every word.

       By the end of her explanation, your body involuntarily begins to shake. Several thoughts coursed in your mind yet the most prominent thought was obvious… you were finally returning home. 

      “I look forward to starting,” You respond, matching her voice of enthusiasm.

       “That is great to hear… Well, I will let you enjoy the rest of your night. Please call this number again if you have any questions or updates,” She infers.

      “Thank you, have a great night!” You add before clamping the flip phone shut, ending the call.

      In that moment, your body slumps in the chair while a long exhale of breath escapes your mouth. Every part of your body was jittery to the point it was difficult to contain despite the laborious deep breaths exercises and your hands crossing to squeeze your upper arms. No doubt, the ticket home seemed to magically appear on your lap. Maybe the universe had finally answered your prayer, and within a month you would travel back home. 

     Tears formed, your eyes evidently becoming glossy while you were seated slumped on the dining room chair. With tears flowing down your face, a part of you felt ridiculous for becoming this emotional. 

      The front door knob jiggle, the sound of keys from the other side of the door interrupting your mini crying session. Once the door opens, you whip your body to direct your attention to Mateo standing there in the entrance. The evidence of crying was still conspicuous as your cheeks were entirely wet and your eyes were puffy. 

    “Ah shit, did I come home at a bad time?” Mateo mutters, cautiously setting his black bag on the floor by the entrance after he shuts and locks the front door. 

      “No, you little jackass. I just got a job offer back home… I start in a month,” You respond in a sincere tone, cracking a subtle smile to Mateo. 

   Mateo appeared taken back, now walking into a plethora of confounding information. With a few steps into the dinning room, he sits beside you at the dining table. He notices the vase of roses placed on the center of the table yet does not comment on them for now. 

    “Are you moving because of me?” Mateo questions, a pout forming on his face. He was honestly a child at times.

     “Huh? No, absolutely not because of you… I just think I have overstayed here in Nebraska, and need to return home so I can be near family,” You explain, your tone heartfelt as you glance at Mateo with a grin.

     Mateo deeply exhales, his brown eyes narrowing at the sight of you, “I guess I'll allow you to leave… on the condition you visit,” He expresses smugly. 

    A soft chuckle emits from your mouth, nodding in agreement to his prerequisite,” Deal…But I plan on moving out in three weeks. Tomorrow, I am putting in my two weeks resignation letter. Some of my clients are not going to be happy.” 

     To your verdict, Mateo expresses a solemn smile before his hand points to the roses you arranged in the vase earlier,” So… who bought you these?” He asks with an eyebrow raised. 

      “I’ll let you guess, but the answer is obvious,” You respond bluntly. 

       “Leon?” He answers immediately with his lips curved in a grin.

        “Mhmm..” You hum, scratching the side of your hair with a finger. “He arrived at session with them, and pretty much shoved them in my arms. Never been so caught off guard,” You then comment. 

      With a sudden snap of your fingers, you jolt up to stand before scurrying across the room to your bag, “Oh shit, I almost forgot, he also gave me a card. I haven’t opened it yet.” Within a moment, your hand digs inside your beg to then reveal a red envelope once you pull it out. By holding the red envelope in hand, you return to seat yourself at the dining room table beside Mateo, ripping the side of the envelope with your hand. A blank expression instantly appears on your face once you slide out the Valentine’s card. By opening it, you notice a gift card and Leon’s writing inside the card, “Mateo… He gave me a gift card to Chili's… Dude, look what this says…’To the spiciest therapist I know’... What the fuck does that mean?!” You glance at Mateo, biting your lip from amusement and disturbance simultaneously. 

     Mateo only burst out laughing, snatching the card from your hand to read Leon’s writing closely, “Damn girl, what you be doing to him during your sessions, huh?” Mateo questions you in an accusatory tone with a hint of humor behind it.

     “Absolutely nothing… Goodnight!” You huff, snatching the card from his grasp back into your possession before stomping off to your bedroom. 

      By next morning, you were able to have written a two weeks notice letter explaining your resignation with a clear date that you would be concluding your tenure with USSTRATCOM as a therapist officially on Tuesday, March 1st. The following days were heart-wrenching, revealing to clients that you would be concluding your position as their therapist and only a few sessions with them remained. Several clients congratulated your new position while others simply were in denial of your departure, or expressed their grief to you. 

        Friday eventually arrived with the anticipation of preparing the last client with the news of your resignation. Instead of being seated at your desk, you waited patiently for the arrival of Leon on one of the two chairs that you would usually sit during the session. Every minute that passed, you contemplated on how to deliver that in a few weeks, you would no longer be his therapist. Last Monday, he gifted flowers and a gift card to you, clearly there was a modicum of admiration from him. Would he congratulate the advancement in your career or distress over your inevitable departure like other clients? You could not rationalize with yourself on why you were nervous to tell him. 

    Right at 5PM, you heard the knock on the door of your office. Leon was always on time for his sessions when he was not sent away on missions. For his division, you still did not know the kind of work he did but only that he was revered as a top dog in his position. 

     Upon hearing his steps, your eyes instantly gravitate to his ocean eyes piercing back at you as he treads further inside the office. Leon seats himself on the chair across from you, an obvious grin plastered on his face. No words were exchanged, but your thoughts spiraled,’Shit, should I tell him now?’ Your thoughts debated but you shook your head on the notion.

    “Leon, how has it been these past few days?” You then ask, mustering a soft smile on your lips. 

     “Great, since I knew I’ll be seeing you today,”Leon smooths, leaning comfortably back into his chair. 

     Your lips falter, steering to not encourage this behavior from your client. “Leon, how many times have I repeated to you to respect the boundaries between us?” You remind him, followed by a soft sigh. This was his mindless flirting that recently sprung up in sessions. 

   “Too many times, miss. I apologize,” Leon chuckles, averting his eyes to the side at the floor. Ultimately, those icy eyes return their gaze to you even though his face was directed away. “So Miss, how were those roses I gave you last time?” He questions you, his eyebrow quirks as he awaits your answer.

     “They were nice, I was able to place them in a vase. Thank you… But understand that as a therapist, I could lose my license for accepting gifts, okay?” You remark, your tone firm with blank expression.

       His tongue clicks along with a small nod, “Oh no, I can’t have that happen. I- We need you here…” Leon mentions, his gaze studying your face. 

        As you examine the features of his face while he spoke, you realize how exhaustive his features appeared. Before he could utter another word regarding gifts, you interfere,”Hey, how are you sleeping as of late these past few nights?”

        In that moment, his grin deflates in an almost surprised expression. Leon adjusted his throat, shifting in the chair.“I’m experiencing nightmares…” Leon admits, blushes blooming on his cheeks. 

          You expected him to retort with humor or downplay his exhaustion. But Leon was actually opening himself to you about his nightmares. This was an opportunity too good to let pass by. By extending your arm to your desk, your hand grabs a notebook and pen. Every detail that he verbalizes, you need written down. 

        With your pen awaiting on the lines on the paper, your eyes return to his face, the bleak blue in his eyes not as bright as they usually are. “Describe what you remember from your dreams, Leon.”

          “Burning bodies, blood caked on my skin that did not belong to me, and things I can’t even explain…” He shifts in his seat again, his voice feeble.

             His narrative could not paint a picture for you, the few details not being enough, but only suggested he endured an incident so horrifying. On paper, your pen scribbled down the only two details he described: burning bodies and blood on skin.

             “Leon, can you recall an incident you might have seen or experienced?” You ask, bringing the top of the pen to your lips.

                After a moment, his head shook,” No ma’am, I simply have watched Dawn of the Dead too many times,” He chuckled, seemingly forcing a smirk. 

            If you could roll your eyes at this moment, you would. An internal scream echoed in your head, and you nearly wanted to slap your forehead with the notebook in your hand. When he finally opens up about something regarding his trauma, he fucking does this bullshit… again.

          Instead of proceeding in your usual passive tone, you adjust your voice to become stern,”Leon, do you honestly need this service?”

          He was clearly offended at the change in tone in your voice, his eyes narrowing at you. An expression you never expected to witness him guise, yet you kept your composure. “Yes, I do,” He merely responded, his voice consisting of no humor. 

         “Then please help me, help you. These past few months you have progressed, but you would honestly be further in your treatment if you allow yourself to open up. I’m not expecting you to explain everything in one session, but understand if you were a bit more cooperative, I can guide you more efficiently through your trauma. I’m not a therapist that wants you to be in therapy forever…” You breathe out along with a huff. 

       The words seem to echo into the room as the room falls into silence, Leon just sitting there with no words to exchange. Nonetheless, every word spoken from your lips was valid. But on the back of your mind, time was inching closer for you to reveal the news. 

       “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, miss. I know I’m your favorite client,” Leon retorts, that same smug expression on his face.

        This session was going nowhere, 30 minutes somehow wasted. Time was working against you, so it would be easier to rip the band aid off the wound, right? 

       “There was never a competition between my clients in the first place. I regard and care for all my clients equally, Leon,” You retort, directly staring at his eyes. “Also…” Your voice proceeds along with an adjustment in your throat. At this point, it can not be helped, he deserved to know. “Uh, to simplify it… in a few weeks I will no longer be working with USSTRATCOM, I’m moving back to Texas. But don’t worry, I already notified the next therapist on your case on your goals and what we worked on.”

       The heart in your chest was beating, feeling anxiety ridden, but nonetheless you revealed the big announcement. Then that same tense quiet air settled into the office once more, Leon had a blank stare directed at your face. Those eyes of his blinked several times before he mustered a warm smile. “That’s very sudden news, but congratulations,” He breathed, his fist clenching on his thighs. 

      While an exhale of air escapes your nose, the ache in your chest seems to ease away. This time, you permit yourself to smile in response to the commendation from Leon. “I really appreciate the congratulations from you… But we will still conduct session the same until I leave. So tell me…what is an incident that may be a considerable source that prompts your nightmares, Leon?” 

      “Wait-” He utters, tilting his head as his mouth tries to form words. “Can you at least explain why you’re leaving? I know three months is not a long time, but I have made so much progress with you…”

       His voice betrays him, nearly breaking yet Leon sustains a smile on his face. Subtle taps on the floor peak your attention, your eyes glancing down to notice his foot tapping on the floor.

       “Sure, I can explain… Um, I have close family in Texas, and my next job allows me to be closer to them,” You answer simply, keeping your voice calm. 

       You see Leon nod in his head in acceptance as he glances down to his hands resting on his lap. “I see… just… you don’t seem like a Texas gal..” He chuckles, bringing his gaze back to you.

        A laugh emits from your mouth, not expecting Leon to return to his whits suddenly. “If you expected me to wear a big cowboy hat and speak with a twang, I might just punch you,” You suggest with an empty threat, raising a fist in his direction while your other hand holds the notebook to your lap. 

       Leon lets out a fake gasp while appearing offended. “Hmm, sounds like someone is in need of anger management.”

       “Oh, you think you’re funny, huh?” You retort, pursing your lips at his remark.

       “I think? Oh, honey, I am funny…” 

        ‘Honey?’ This little endearing nickname riled your core, perceiving it as condescending, nonetheless you opt to let this slide. With a small sigh, your eyes peer to the clock on the wall, silently thanking the universe that only 5 minutes of the session remained. 

       “Alright comedian…” You speak, leaning over the armrest of the chair to grab the clipboard from your desk, “It’s that time you give your signature, and that will be all for today’s session.”

    Leon chuckled once you extended the clipboard to him before he wrote his grand signature: ‘Leon Kennedy’ on the signature line. He extended it back to you, except his expression appeared solemn.

     “So you really are leaving Nebraska? Quitting USSTRATCOM to move back to Texas?” He inquires, no hint of humor in his voice.

     Your head nods, only responding with a hum in agreement. 

    “Well I’m happy for you… I will see you next week,” He expresses, giving a brief smile before he leaves the office.

     “Bye Leon!” You call out, proceeding to shut and lock the office door after he leaves.

     An exasperated groan iterates into the empty room, letting out that strenuous hold of breath out your chest. While the complicated part of informing all the clients was settled, now the actual moving process was the next course of action. At that moment, you reluctantly retreat to your desk, knowing that the legal documents, session notes, and insurance signature sheets need to be submitted to your supervisor before you can leave for home. It was Friday, all you wanted to do was drink to your heart's content, play video games, and pass out on the couch. Typical Friday night shit.

      In time, all necessary documents were submitted to your supervisor. The familiar brunt whirl of flurries stung the skin of your cheeks once you step outside the building, being welcomed into the dark parking lot. Every step along the parking lot was careful while you walked towards your car, seeing the red among the white.

    Even inside the car, your body shivered, desperate to warm up. The inconvenience of the winter night sky entirely made it difficult to see in your car, but you were able to insert the car key into the ignition. With anticipation for warm air, your wrist turns the key forward. 

      Kkkkkkk.

     The sound of the car struggling to start only furrowed your eyebrows in response. 

     Naturally, you turn the key one more time. Two times. Three times. With a disgruntled groan, you continue to turn the key, your foot persistently pressing the gas pedal. 

     “No no no no. Baby don’t do this to me now!”

           With every desperate turn of the key, the car only responded with jerks before dying completely. Hot visible breaths huffed from your mouth, that bitter cold was already piercing through the fabric of your clothes. Your hand pulls out the key from the ignition and your foot ceases from stepping on the gas pedal. That sense of anxiety crept into your chest once more at the awareness you were oblivious to the malfunction in your car. 

        Your hand decides to reach down to pull down a small lever, hearing the familiar pop of the hood. While hesitant, you then retrieve your flashlight from the middle console before returning to the brunt winter weather as you exit the driver’s seat. Once the hood is propped up on the stand, you click the flashlight to instantly illuminate the engine under the hood. The problem was then apparent, the light revealing ripped spark plunges that were supposed to be connected to the engine.

     “Oh, what the fuck…” The words seem to let out, unsure how this happened to your car.

      Crunches of ice behind you alleviated you from deep thought, prompting you to immediately whirl your body to the source of sound. Light from the flashlight directs to a broad figure, startling you to where you nearly scream. Your hand points the flashlight up and you recognize the familiar sandy blonde hair.

     “Leon?” You mutter into the air, your eyes widening at his sudden appearance. “What are you doing here?” You then ask, pointing the flashlight down from his face out of courtesy.

     “I heard a car struggling to start, so I thought I would check it out…” He responds, proceeding to walk to the open hood of your car. Leon glances down to the flashlight in your hand, gesturing you to hand it to him. “Here,” You whisper, extending the flashlight to him. While he holds the flashlight, he directs it down to the engine, “Damn, your spark plugs are damaged,” He remarks, his demeanor confirming your earlier speculation.

      “They were recently replaced, this shouldn’t have happened,” You retort, your tone obviously confused. 

        “Well they look like they've been bitten… Maybe a small animal searching for warmth crawled inside and decided to chew them out,” Leon suggested, returning his attention to you.

         Leon’s revelation was plausible but when you return your glance to the spark plugs, the damage appeared like a clean cut as if they were physically cut by something. Regardless of how they were damaged, your current situation ensured that you were stranded in the parking lot of your job. The road conditions were horrible, piled with snow, and you honestly did not know how long a tow truck would get there. 

     While you contemplate your options, you hear Leon adjust his throat. “If you like, I could drive you home. It’s cold and dark now, there’s not much you can do," he suggests. 

     Spark plugs were easy to install, but to travel to a nearby auto shop was complicated enough in this weather. Your head immediately shook at his offer, shifting your attention to his face. “Thanks for the offer, Leon, but I have to decline. I’m still your t-“

  “Therapist. I know. Miss, it is dark and freezing. A tow truck would take an hour… I can’t leave you out here,” Leon interjects, his tone stern to prove a point. “Come on, let me take you home. It wouldn’t be an issue for me at all,” He continues, proceeding to let down the hood of your car. 

      Deep down, you knew his proposal would violate ethical codes as a therapist, but his persistence swayed your verdict. Your body was visibly shaking while you stood there, glancing around the parking lot to ensure no one was watching. “Fine, but straight to my house, Leon.” You sternly express, going to quickly retrieve your purse before returning to his side. 

     You hear chuckles from Leon while you follow him to a black SUV, obviously a government vehicle. “Perks of being an agent,” Leon mentions, his voice laced with humor. It honestly seemed he was enjoying this.

     By sitting in the passenger seat, you experience the loving warmth of heat from the vents once Leon turns on the car. A pang of guilt coursed at the realization you were leaving your car behind at the parking lot. “So you drive a Nissan Z? Didn’t think you’re into cars like that, especially with turbo,” Leon strikes a conversation, driving off the premises of the USSTRATCOM parking lot. 

    “Ah, it was a parting gift from my dad. She is practically a family member…” You say, blushing a bit. 

    “There’s no shame in that, it’s actually interesting you’re into cars. But I could definitely swing by in the morning and I could personally switch out the spark plugs,” Leon offers, shifting his attention to you in the passenger seat. 

      “If replacing the spark plugs is no hassle, then I am okay with it…”

        Leon grins, ecstatic that you conceded to his assistance instead of blatantly rejecting his offer. For a moment, he remained quiet as he drove on the snowy desolate streets before eventually realizing he did not know your address. “Ah shit, I got ahead of myself. Tell me where to drive from here to get to your home,” Leon nervously chuckles. 

       In response, you nod with an assuring smile, ”That’s fine…”

               Other than Leon’s rock music playing on the stereo, the car ride became quiet as the exchange of words died down. The moments you only spoke were when you provided directions to your house. Soon the sight of the familiar Victorian house was in view, although you notice a line of cars parked in the driveway and street, along with an absurd amount of people hanging around the house. Once Leon gradually slowed infront of the house, he turned his head to you sitting in the passenger seat. 

       “This is your house?” He asks, turning down the volume of his rock music. 

         A sheepish smile appeared on your lips, nodding to Leon,”Yeah, I guess my roommate decided to throw a party.”

         Leon returns his attention to the amount of men chilling on the front porch, drinking beers or smoking cigarettes despite the freezing air. You see Leon narrow his eyes at the scene yet smirks when he glances back to you. “Looks fun… but I will see you in the morning, right? Is 9AM alright?”

        Your head nods frantically, presenting a pleased smile on your lips,”Uhh, yeah. It sounds good,” You reply, somehow almost forgetting about your car stranded at the parking lot of your job. At that moment, you open the passenger car door before slipping onto the pavement of the road. “See you tomorrow, Leon! And thank you for taking me home…” 

       Leon seemed content, before waving off to you, "I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good night,” He responds. Once you shut the passenger door, he drives off, leaving you to watch him as you stand there in the middle of the road. A nagging intuition provoked an uneasiness into your body regarding this night. Nonetheless, you decided to ignore your paranoia since there is a party that required your attendance because even God knew you deserved it after this whole week. 

[visionofhope04]

I just got done reading your Neglected!Batsis stories and headcanons, and lemme tell you, love ‘em. But can you do headcanons for her meeting the Justice League and Titans post-reveal and how they all interact. Either a mini-series or headcanons. Thanks for reading, and keep up the good work.

One love, Missnght.

Aww thank you so much!!! I'm glad you love the series! HAPPY HOLIDAYSSSS!!!! Also MERRY CHIRSTMAS!!! It's very early Christmas day where I am right now. TW: Human tr@fficking and mentions of @bus3, swearing

---

You were minding your business, walking down the street, when all of a sudden you get snatched into an alleyway. Before you even processed what happened, you felt a sharp pain in the back of your head and blacked out.

---

You began to regain consciousness but refrained from opening your eyes, struggling to keep your muscles relaxed and breathing even. You wanted to learn anything you could about your surroundings, if you gave them any hint that you were awake, they wouldn't spill any useful information. If there was anything Talia had drilled into you from such a young age, it was the importance of gathering information, or the facts, before acting. It prevented you from making misinformed decisions which could lead to death if you aren't careful.

"She's still out and it's been so long, do you think she's okay?" A high-pitched voice sounded to your left.

"Who knows what they could've done before they brought her in." A lower-pitched voice responded, coming from your right this time.

You blinked your eyes open slowly and pretended you were just waking up. You did a quick check-in with your body and winced once you felt a sharp pain in your skull. The pain got worse and you squeezed your eyes shut.

"You're awake! I thought you were dead for a second." That was the first voice you heard.

"Ugh, yeah but my head is killing me. Do you know where we are?"

"That would be in a small room with no windows and a locked door with several other girls here in various states of distress. Surprisingly still in Jump City. They usually move us quicker." The second voice said.

"I knew wanting to come to Jump City for a possible new place to live was a bad idea." You mumbled. You opened your eyes once the pain dulled. The girl to your left had shoulder-length blonde hair that seemed to be chopped unevenly. She was wearing a skimpy short white dress with spaghetti straps that barely covered her and white flats. Her makeup was smudged and she had a few bruises on her legs and arms. You hoped it wasn't what you thought it was.

The girl to your right was wearing a similar dress to the other girl except it was a deep purple and somehow shorter. She had long black hair which looked so smooth and barely any baby hairs sticking up? You needed to get her hair routine after this. Unlike the other girl, her makeup was intact but didn't seem to match her skin tone well. She did also have bruises, however, indicating it was, in fact, what you thought it was.

"This is a trafficking ring, isn't it."

"Got it in one. How'd you guess?" The second girl -you really needed to get their names- asked.

"Well, it's almost spot on to what movies portray them as. All we're missing are the big scary guys." The door burst open at that exact moment and said big scary guys walked into the room. You couldn't get any luckier. They were all armed with handguns and two stayed back as their boss went to stand in the middle of the room.

"We're going to be moving you out in small groups. Stay with your group and don't try anything."

You got put into a group with the two girls from before and another girl. You were quietly 'escorted' down the hall until the girl you hadn't talked to tried to steal the guy's gun. He shoved her off him and she fell to the floor. He pointed his gun at her head but before he could pull the trigger, you hit his wrist, caught the gun in your other hand then elbowed him. Him being momentarily stunned, you pointed the gun at his head.

"Move and I'll shoot."

"You don't even know how to use a gun! I bet you wouldn't even be able to shoot something point-blank." He exclaimed cockily.

"Wanna test that theory?" You shot him in his right upper bicep.

He screamed and his other hand shot up to clutch at the wound.

"You bitch! You'll pay for that!"

Quicker than you could comprehend, he pulled out a gun from the back of his hip using his good arm and fired at you. Against all of your training, you froze. You heard more than saw the bullet whiz toward you. Bracing yourself, you shut your eyes and forcibly relaxed your muscles. Before the bullet could imbed itself into you, you felt a strong gust of wind and opened your eyes.

"Now, that's no way to treat someone. Clearly, you've never been taught manners. How about I teach you some?" Kid Flash made quick work of the man as you reassessed your surroundings. The girl that tried to steal the man's gun was now off the ground and huddled near the other girls. They immediately rushed to check on me.

"Oh, I'm fine, just a bit frazzled. Don't worry about it."

"'Just a bit frazzled' my ass! You almost got shot!"

"Are you okay ma'am?" Kid Flash asked.

"Yes, I'm fine thank you."

"Okay we've gotta get going, follow me!"

The Titans managed to get all the girls out and arrest all the men. Kid Flash stayed by you as a paramedic checked you over and then came to talk to you once they left.

"Hey." He sat down next to you.

"Hey." You greeted, clutching the shock blanket the paramedic had given you around yourself a little tighter as you looked at the ground.'

"Are you okay?" You picked your gaze up off the ground and stared directly into his eyes.

"Are you seriously asking a former Bat that question?"

"Fair point. But the question still stands."

"Physically, yes, mentally, no."

"After everything that isn't surprising."

"I told you it's not your fault, or your teams, or the Justice League's."

"That doesn't mean we still don't feel bad about it."

You sat there in awkward silence for a minute until Beast Boy came up to you.

"Hey bae how're ya?" You could tell he was trying to flirt.

"You practice that in the mirror often?"

"You know it!"

The rest of the Titans came over and began to apologize for your former family's actions but you cut them off.

"Like I said, you don't have to apologize. None of you were responsible for it. I don't blame you guys. I appreciate you all saving the rest of the girls and I, thank you."

"Just doing our job." Blue Beetle said.

Wally placed a hand on your shoulder. "If you need anything, let us know, okay?"

"Thank you."

---

The Justice League invited you to Oliver Queen's estate for the holidays. You knew it was just to check up on you and see how you were fairing. Ever since the incident with the batfamily, they've been trying to take on parental roles in your life. It was sweet of them but you don't need that anymore.

Some other heroes were there, mostly the younger children of the leaguers. The party went well, with you all sharing funny stories and making the most absurd faces for pictures. Opening gifts was the best part. You got the same pair of socks ten times from ten different people. You weren't even disappointed. You were just kind of concerned about how ten different leaguers knew your size.

You left feeling an unfamiliar fuzzy warm feeling inside your chest and found yourself looking forward to being invited again.

[mads-nixon]

See the Good

Eugene Sledge x Medic!Reader

Masterlist

A/N: Merry Christmas @iceman-kazansky!! I literally squealed when I saw I got you as my giftee! I loved your prompts, and I hope you like what I did with them!! I'm going to post one gift per day so that they'll be a little spaced out! hbo owns the rights, and this is about the fictional portrayal of k company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!

Prompt: “You always see the good in people. Even me.”

Word Count: 5.7k

Summary: When Gene can only see himself as the terrible things he's done in the war, (y/n) is right there to remind him who he really is.

Warnings: descriptions of dead bodies (non-graphic)

OKINAWA, JAPAN: MAY, 1945:

The ground beneath their boots trembled, and the deafening whistles of mortars filled the air as (y/n) and the rest of K Company ran for cover. They sunk into the muddy sludge below them, turning each step into a battle against the sucking earth. Gripping her corpsman pack with white knuckles, (y/n) followed Gene, not daring to stop in the barrage.

“They have us targeted!” Burgie yelled, hurdling over a giant boulder in his path. “Get to cover!”

Just as (y/n) ran past the remnants of a demolished shed, a sudden blast threw her violently to the ground, sending a cascade of mud in all directions. Her ears rang with disorientation as she blinked slowly, struggling to regain her senses. The ringing faded into a muffled whine and a face appeared in (y/n)‘s vision. Although the figure’s face was blurred, she knew it was Eugene. His mouth moved rapidly, but she couldn’t understand a word he said. Realizing this, he quickly grasped the front of her uniform and hoisted her to her feet, throwing an arm around her waist to keep her upright as they bolted for cover.

Reaching the rocks, (y/n)‘s hearing slowly faded back, and the sounds of booming artillery reached her ears.

Sledge pulled on her arm, helping her over the rugged terrain. “Come on. We’re almost there!”

Finally reaching the safety of cover, the company continued farther into the rocks to escape the barrage. Snafu was in front of them and on the verge of a panicked breakdown.

“This is bullshit!” he cried, plopping down on a rock. “If I ever find the FO that called that arty, I’ll shoot him!”

Gene maintained his hold on (y/n) as he led them toward a big rock, his frustration evident. “They’ll just do it again,” he huffed, gritting his teeth. “All because some asshole officer read a map wrong and nobody gives a shit about us!”

After he sat (y/n) on the boulder beside Snafu, Eugene took a deep breath and sank beside her. He turned to the dazed woman beside him, her once white corpsman armband a brown and muddy mess. “You alright?” he asked her, knowing even he himself wasn’t alright after what happened before the shelling.

The woman and her baby…

(Y/n) nodded slowly, her eyes rising from the ground to meet his. ”Yeah. Just got my bell rung. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?” Sledge persisted.

“Yes, Gene. I’m okay,” she murmured wearily, rubbing her eyes. “Really.”

Removing her helmet, she threaded her fingers through her (y/h/c) hair, wincing at the dried mud that pulled at the roots. Over their time on the dreadful island, they all discovered that the jungle was just as much an enemy as the Japs.

Snafu stared wide-eyed at the ground below him, hands on his head as his chest heaved. His expression was the same one that each marine wore as they grappled with the massacre they’d just witnessed.

What country uses its own civilians as shields for a surprise attack?

As a corpsman, (y/n) had seen more death than the average marine, and after the fierce fighting on the islands of Peleliu and Pavuvu, she was struggling to remain afloat in the vast ocean of numbness that threatened to drown her. The only thing keeping her above water were her boys, the men of K Company: Sledge, Snafu, Burgin, and De L’eau, although Jay had been transferred to intelligence. They’d lost so many good men, and it made her even more thankful for the guys who had always been there for her.

“Corpsman up front!”

The call snapped (y/n) from her thoughts, and she quickly rose, momentarily losing her balance until a strong hand grasped her upper arm, holding her steady. She felt the warmth of his hand through her thin ODs as he held her in place, accompanied by a blush creeping up her neck.

“(Y/n)-” Gene started.

Shrugging him off gently, she turned toward the call. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Be careful,” he whispered after her, watching her form disappear into a sea of olive-green uniforms. With another deep breath, Sledge sat back down, trying to calm his still-racing heart. She had been right behind him…until she wasn’t. Panic had gripped him when he saw her motionless figure in the mud as the artillery rained down around them. When she opened her eyes, he felt a weight lift off his chest.

Rain drenched the marines through the night as they held their position looking up to the ridge. Around 2000HRS the next day, (y/n) trudged back to her squad, eyelids heavy with exhaustion. Dried blood clung to her cracked hands, refusing to wash away, no matter how many times she’d scrubbed them raw. The casualties were unending like the rain that constantly poured on them. Luckily, the downpour had come to a stop in the early morning.

She’d been at the BAS since the previous afternoon treating and evacuating wounded marines from the already bloody battle. Continued artillery and fire throughout the day brought a steady stream of bleeding men through the tent’s entrance. One of these men had been Bill Leyden. He wasn’t in good shape, and when (y/n) saw the damage on her friend’s body, the air rushed from her lungs. After pushing away the panic, she quickly helped other corpsmen stabilize him, before sending him off to a hospital ship. As she watched him go, her heart sank at the realization the company had lost another man…another friend.

“Hey Doc,” Snafu called out gently as she approached.

She looked up from her feet at the man with a tired smile. “Hey, Snaf,” she whispered. “You seen Gene?”

Motioning over his shoulder, Snafu replied, “He’s right over there. But, Bill…“

“Yeah,” she sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We got him stabilized. He should make a full recovery. Lost a few fingers, though.”

In a trance-like state, Snafu nodded, his gaze fixed ahead. It was something they all did. A way to escape the horrors they lived through. With a gentle squeeze of his shoulder, (y/n) moved to find Sledge, but the Cajun’s voice stopped her.

“Eugene. He got a letter…his dog died.”

She turned to face him with raised brows. “Deacon?”

“I guess,” the man nodded. “I think he’s bothered more than he’s letting on. You know how Eugene is.”

“Yeah. I’ll talk to him.”

She found him staring into space ahead of him as he sat up against one of the island’s many rocks. Before she approached, (y/n) simply watched the man before her. She could see his growing stubble and the mud that splattered his cheeks, but what worried her was the blank expression on his face. She longed to see the lopsided smile that used to hang from his lips. (Y/n) didn’t know how long it had been since she’d seen that smile…too long.

Pulling her satchel off her shoulder, she quietly approached him and slouched down beside him. They sat silently for a moment, the warmth of their touching shoulders spreading through them. Gene was the first to break the silence.

“Did you see Bill?” he asked quietly, his eyes still glued on the rocks in front of him.

(Y/n) nodded, looking up at him with a small smile. “Yeah, he’s gonna be okay.”

Gene leaned his head back against the ground with a thud, his eyes closed as a shuttering sigh escaped his lips. She sat up off the rock and turned toward him, gently taking his hand.

“I’m sorry about Deacon.”

The second her fingers intertwined with his, Sledge’s heartbeat accelerated, and the man felt heat spread through his body. He took a moment to compose himself before he opened his eyes. He looked down at their intertwined hands before meeting her concerned gaze.

In that moment, Eugene could have sworn she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. It didn’t matter that she was coated in blood, mud, and sweat. She was there for him like nobody else had ever been in his whole life. Sure, he was close with his parents, but he felt they never completely understood him.

Who’d have thought that he’d have to travel almost eight thousand miles to find someone who could do so?

Eugene’s eyes flashed down to her lips, unable to control himself as their closeness made him suddenly bold. He always wondered what they’d taste like. How they’d feel against his. They were chapped, just like everyone else's, but that didn’t matter. The young man wanted a way to show her how much she meant to him. Sure, there had been moments where he told himself he was going to kiss her, but the moment ended before he had the opportunity. Something in the moment felt wrong, though, and he decided to wait once more.

“Thank you,” he whispered, swallowing thickly as he tried to regain his composure and keep the memories of his beloved dog at bay. “He was a good dog.”

“How old was he? 10? 11?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “10.”

The woman’s eyes searched his face, trying to get a read of what he needed from her. She saw pain in his hazel eyes. Pain from the loss of Bill. Pain from the loss of Deacon. Pain caused by the war.

She decided he needed some hope. Some laughter.

“Did I tell you about the time Snaf and I almost got caught stealing from an Army captain?”

Later that day, Gene and the rest of his squad sat among the rocks, each lost in their mind. (Y/n) was beside him, writing in her journal, and they were doing the same…all except Peck, who was attempting to dig a foxhole in the soaked ground. Since the day they arrived on the wretched island, Sledge kept up with how many days they spent there with tallies in the back of his Bible. With the days running together, they rarely knew what day it was or how long they’d been there.

“What’s the date?” Burgie asked, putting down his small journal.

The group turned to Gene, who took a deep breath. “June 5th, maybe. Might be the 6th.” He turned to (y/n). “(Y/n/n), which one you got?”

“I have no idea,” she sighed. “I gave up keeping track a while ago.”

Peck decided to chime in as he dug. “We’re never getting off this island.”

Everyone was thinking it, but he was the one person who dared to speak it aloud.

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, glancing over at Gene with an annoyed expression. If looks could kill, Peck would be six feet deep from the redhead’s glare. His jaw clenched tightly, and his chest began to heave as he stared at the replacement.

Sensing his rising anger, (y/n) reached over and placed a hand on his thigh. His eyes moved to meet hers, and her (y/e/c) irises seemed to whisper, ”He’s not worth it,” and, “It’s okay. I’m here.”

Gene took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down. Beating the crap out of Peck wouldn’t bring Bill back, and letting anger consume you was a dangerous game. Every time he was tempted to let it in, (y/n) was right there, a soft presence telling him that hate was not the answer. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted daily. Sledge had seen what men could do to each other. He had seen what the Japs did to his friends.

Looking away from Gene, she was met with a strange stare from Snafu, who was smoking a cigarette and sitting on their makeshift toilet. His gaze was questioning, but not criticizing. When the man’s eyes drifted down to her hand, her stomach dropped, and she felt like she was caught red-handed. (Y/n) quickly removed her hand from Gene’s leg and shot to her feet.

“I’m gonna go-uh-do some rounds,” she announced, not daring to look at Gene or Snafu.

A few seconds later, she went treading through the sludge, her corpsman satchel pressed tightly to her side. The men all watched in confusion as she left, unsure what had made her so jumpy all of a sudden.

“She alright?” Hamm asked once she’d disappeared from view.

Burgie, always an observer, glanced over at Sledge to watch his reaction. He looked somewhat like a kicked puppy. Wrapping up his Bible, Gene began to tuck it into his pocket without a word.

“Don’t worry about (y/n), Hamm,” Burgie replied with a nod.

Hamm raised an eyebrow at his sergeant. “But did you see her-”

“She’s fine,” Snafu interrupted, pulling up his pants and rejoining the group. “Besides, she’s already got someone to worry about her.”

At the statement, Eugene froze, a cold chill running through him despite the heat. A million thoughts ran rampant in his mind.

Is there someone else in her life?

Does he know something I don’t?

Does he know how I feel?

Groaning, Burgie smacked the Cajun’s shoulder. “Shut up, Snaf. Don’t go starting crap.”

The sergeant first noticed the bond between Sledge and (y/n) back in training, but especially when the company landed on Peleliu. They always stuck by one another when they could, and she seemed to help calm the Marine amid his anxiety. As time went on and their relationship changed, Romus knew they had feelings for one another, even if they didn’t admit it. He’d never spoken about it to anyone, fearing it could become a rumor that would possibly get the pair in trouble if they ever acted on their feelings. Hearing Snafu insinuate something between them sent a pang of panic through him.

“We all worry about (y/n),” he continued. “But she’s a great corpsman. She can hold her own.”

Before he could finish his sentence, Eugene rose to his feet and went to take a leak. He did have to relieve himself, but he also wanted to get away from the conversation. If Snafu knew about how he felt, the man would never stop tormenting him. Even if it was in a joking way, Gene didn’t want to be the subject of Shelton’s teasing.

Just as he made it to a somewhat secluded spot, he heard Mac’s voice ring out from above him.

“I need a stovepipe boy up top!” he yelled, coming down from the ridge.

Gene slightly ducked his head behind a rock, hoping the lieutenant would miss him. To his dismay, Mac caught his movement in the corner of his eye.

“Sledge, that’s you. Bring some comm wire.”

Sighing when his superior disappeared over the ridge, he muttered, “Yes, sir,” and went to follow his orders.

The stench of excrement and death permeated the air as (y/n) walked through their temporary camp checking on the men. Her eyes watered from the smell, and it took all her willpower not to gag. Even though she’d built a great tolerance to gruesome sights and smells over her time as a corpsman, sometimes it all got to her.

Snafu’s stare replayed in her mind, and she hoped that she didn’t accidentally give herself away to the group. Worry buzzed in her stomach like the disgusting flies that seemed to be ever-present among the mud and filth of Okinawa. (Y/n) tried to busy her mind with the long list of men to check on, but she couldn’t focus more than a few moments before getting lost in her head again.

Spotting a man on her list, she called out to him.

“Hey, James,” she greeted, approaching his muddy foxhole. “How’s the ankle?”

He groaned and shook his head. “As good as it’s gonna be, Doc.”

In the barrage the day prior, the private slipped and rolled his ankle in the mud trying to get to cover. He insisted he was fine, but some of his squadmates sent (y/n) to check on him. Henry James was a stubborn young man who wasn’t even old enough to drink, yet he was on a foreign island in Southeast Asia fighting for his country…fighting to survive. She crouched beside his hole, inspecting the ankle that was elevated above the entrance.

“Were you able to stay off it much?” (y/n) asked, gently prodding the bruised skin.

“A buddy of mine took my OP shift so I didn’t have to walk around on it. It’s more stiff than anything.”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “That’s how ankles are. They’re tough-”

Her voice came to a stop as yelling filled the air. It wasn’t cheers of victory or anything of that nature. They were cries of attack…of desperation…of death. The second the sound registered in her mind, she was darting toward the ridge, hoping to get there before the shooting started in case someone got hit. The rapid beating of her heart filled her ears as she ran through the mud and past battle-weary marines. A few of them called out to her, but she didn’t hear them.

The first ping of an M-1 being fired echoed through the air as she made it to the base of the rocky ridge. Cursing under her breath, she quickly began her ascent. Finding the most solid footing, she climbed the hill, using the jagged rocks as handholds. Gunfire filled the air, silencing the screams of the enemy. (Y/n) was out of breath when she made it to the top, but she didn’t stop. Most of the fire had stopped, but a few shots still rang out.

At the moment the corpsman reached the other marines at the top of the ridge, her heart sank at the sight of Eugene unholstering his revolver and aiming at a wounded Jap.

“Cease fire!” Mac cried from the other side of the ridge. “Cease fire!”

Gene didn’t care.

“Damn, Sledge. Leave him,” Hamm muttered to the redhead.

Whipping around to face him, Eugene scowled. “What for? He’s a Jap, ain’t he?”

(Y/n) watched in horror as Gene opened fire on the man already wallowing in the mud. He missed the first two shots, but the third hit its mark, hitting the Jap just above his hip. The soldier sunk into the mud face down, his writhing coming to an end.

“Cease fire!” The Lieutenant repeated as he neared them. “Cease fire, damn it!”

Satisfied with his work, Sledge grabbed his rifle from beside Hamm and turned to descend the ridge. When he noticed (y/n) a few yards away, he froze for a moment, his eyes resembling a dark storm cloud that could start down pouring any second. Guilt seemed to cloud his usual hazel eyes, and he looked away, unable to stay steady beneath her gaze after what he’d just done. He then continued down the ridge.

Mac was quick to confront him, gripping his carbine in one hand with white knuckles.

“I told you to cease fire. What are you doing?”

The private spun to face Mac with gritted teeth.“Killing Japs,” he seethed, turning to go down the hill again.

Before he could get far, the lieutenant spoke again. “You just gave away our position!”

“I think they’ve got a pretty good idea of where we are,” Gene chuckled bitterly.

Mac pointed toward the dead Japs. “I told you to cease fire. You’re supposed to be observing, and then I see you with a damn sidearm!

“We were all sent here to kill Japs, weren’t we?” Sledge screamed, climbing back up to be nose-to-nose with his lieutenant. “So what the hell difference does it make what weapon we use?”

(Y/n) couldn’t help but flinch at Gene’s sudden outburst. She’d never seen him like this before, and she wondered what made him finally break. What was the straw that broke the camel’s back? What had happened in the five minutes she was gone?

A tear streaked down her cheek seeing the man she cared about more than anything giving in to the war. Seeing a man be reduced to a shell of who he once was was always heartbreaking, and (y/n) didn’t realize just how much until she witnessed him finally crack.

“I’d use my damn hands if I had to,” he whispered to a frozen Mac, who clenched his jaw and slowly walked past him. (Y/n) was quick to try and follow Gene once he stormed down the hill, but a gentle hand on her shoulder held her back.

It was Burgin, his face scrunched with concern. “Let ‘em cool off, (y/n/n).”

“Romus, he-”

“I know what he means to you,” he interrupted in a whisper as he glanced around them for any eavesdroppers. “But trust me. You need to leave him be for a little bit. Let him think.”

(Y/n) swallowed thickly. “Please don’t tell anyone, Burgie. I could be-”

“Your secret’s safe with me…He needs you, (y/l/n), but give him a few hours.”

Releasing a shuddering breath, her gaze dropped to the ground. “He was fine when I left. What happened?”

“I don’t know. But we did hear him hollering about something right before he went up top.”

“Thanks for everything, Burg,” she sighed, patting his shoulder softly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you and the guys.”

A sheepish smile grew on his face, and he chuckled under his breath. “You’d be a lot more ladylike, that’s for sure. The other day, I’m pretty sure I saw you smoking Sledge’s pipe.”

“Whatever,” she groaned, rubbing a hand down her dirty face. “A lot of women actually smoke, ya know?”

The rest of the afternoon did not go according to (y/n)‘s plan, and she was unable to check on Gene after he cooled down. Within an hour of his outburst, she was called back to the field hospital to assist in an all-hands-on-deck emergency following a Jap ambush. The corpsman was up to her elbows in blood, bowels, and every other bodily fluid from vomit to urine. It was a hard night, and it got even worse when a terrible rainstorm moved in, trapping her from returning to her company due to poor visibility.

(Y/n) spent the night, and most of the next day, helping around the hospital. She dressed wounds, administered pain meds, and helped transport men to the hospital ships on a Jeep. A radio call was received that told of the 1st Marine’s plans to take the ridge, and (y/n) knew she needed to be there.

She caught a ride to the ridge just in time for the assault. The men were checking their weapons and quietly conversing with each other as she walked through the various companies. When she reached her squad, however, silence filled the air. They all had thousand-yard stares, and the group was missing two guys who had been there the day before. Her pace slowed as she approached them.

“Hey, guys,” (y/n) said softly, her eyes flicking from man to man. When none of them acknowledged her, she knew something bad had happened. “Where’s Hamm and Peck?”

Silence.

She took a deep breath, trying not to imagine the worst. “Please, guys, whe-”

“Gone,” Gene interrupted harshly, his gaze snapping to hers. “Hamm's dead and Peck’s gone. He cracked.”

(Y/n) felt the all-too-familiar punch of grief knock the air from her lungs. Eugene’s hazel eyes were dark and stormy, even more so than the previous day. She swallowed thickly, attempting to push down the emotion that clogged her throat.

“What happened?” she asked shakily, her eyes never leaving Gene’s.

Before he could respond, Snafu spoke. “Doesn’t matter. They’re gone.”

“Shelton’s right,” Burgin added. “It’s hard, but we’ve got other things to focus on.”

(Y/n) nodded once and dropped her gaze to the group, blinking away the tears that burned her eyes. Two more of their group were gone. Sure, Peck wasn’t her favorite person by any means, but he was still part of their company….on their side. And Hamm…he was a kid. A kid who deserved better than to die in the mud on some foreign island.

They all deserved better.

“Let’s move out!” Mac announced, waving for them to follow.

Each man followed suit, but Eugene hung back to wait on (y/n). Seeing her tear-filled eyes, he instantly regretted opening his mouth. The anger within him seemed to dissipate momentarily as he joined her side.

“Remember, you’ve got a bullseye on your arm,” he murmured, gesturing to the red and white medic brassard on her arm. “Please be careful.”

“I will.” (Y/n) lifted her helmet to look up at him through her lashes. “You take care of yourself, too, alright?”

“Yes ma’am,” he whispered, admiring her features. His eyes trailed from her eyes down to her nose, and then to her lips before flicking back to her (y/e/c) eyes. They stayed locked in each other’s gaze for a few moments, their eyes seeming to have a silent conversation communicating everything that was left unsaid. Gene slowly reached up to cup her cheek, rubbing his thumb over her cheekbone. The racing of (y/n)‘s heart wasn’t from the artillery that had begun hammering the ridge, but Eugene’s warm caress against her cheek. Her eyes fluttered closed at the gentle touch.

They both wished the moment could last forever.

Another yell from Mac shattered the moment, leaving (y/n) missing the tenderness of his hand in its absence.

“I’ll find you after,” he said, turning around and backpedaling to catch up with his squad. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

The corner of her lips quirked into a smirk. “I’ll leave that to you.”

Once the battle had died down and all the remaining Japanese were either killed or taken prisoner, (y/n) went searching for Gene. When the bullets began to fly, she couldn’t get the boy from Mobile off her mind, and anxiety churned in her stomach as she looked for him. The stench of gasoline, blood, and burnt flesh filled the air along her ascent to the ridge. Bodies of both marines and the enemy lined the narrow path up the hill, and her eyes scanned each one, praying that none of them were the men she’d come to love dearly.

“Burgie, you seen Sledgehammer? He was just over here.”

Hearing the familiar Cajun accent, she spun toward the voice and sighed in relief when she saw Snafu atop an old bunker, his legs swinging as he sat on the edge with a cigarette hanging from his lip. Romus was talking to another sergeant a few feet away, his rifle swung around his shoulder.

“There you are!” (Y/n) called out, reaching up and slapping Snafu’s foot. It was all she could reach from his elevated position on the concrete bunker. “You alright?”

He smiled and raised an eyebrow, blowing a puff of smoke into the humid air. “Not a scratch on me,” he mused. “I don’t know where Eugene is, but don’t worry, I just saw him. He’s okay, too.”

With this news, a wave of calm washed over her, and she let out the breath she’d been holding since they parted. “Thanks, Snaf. I’ll find him.”

“Have fun,” he laughed, waving his cigarette around in front of him. “And do me a favor and fuc-”

This caught Burgie's attention. “Hey!” He interrupted, scolding Snafu like he was a parent whose child was acting up in public. “Cut it out.”

Busting out laughing, Snafu winked at (y/n), who could feel the embarrassment creeping up her cheeks at his intended comment. She raised a hand and flipped him off with a grin before continuing her search for Gene.

It took her a few minutes of wandering to spot his familiar frame among the sea of dirty green uniforms, but when she did, a huge smile painted her face. (Y/n) almost called out to him, but something stopped her.

He was sitting alone on the busted remains of a bunker with his helmeted head in his hands, his weapon lying idle in the dirt beside him. She continued toward him slowly, observing the gentle shake of his shoulders that told her he was crying.

“Hey, Gene,” (y/n) murmured with a softness that matched the gravity of the moment, lowering herself onto the earth beside him. He reacted quickly, averting his gaze and hiding his face as he wiped the tears from his dirt-covered cheeks.

Reaching over, she softly turned his face toward her. After a moment of resistance, he gave in to her gentle touch. His eyes, glistening with unshed tears, met hers. (Y/n)‘s fingertips traced the dirt-streaked paths on his cheeks, her touch a soothing escape from the horror they lived in.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, ducking to meet his eyes. “I’m here.”

Gene’s lip began to quiver, and a stifled sob escaped him as he covered his face with trembling hands. “I’m a monster, (y/n). The things I’ve done…” he strained, moving away from her comforting touch.

(Y/n) watched the play of emotions on his face as he stood up abruptly, throwing an arm out to point to a bombed-out building. The skeletal remains of what once was a home loomed in the smoky haze. “There was a family in there. Now a baby with grow up without a family! I called in the mortars up there! I did that! I’m a monster!”

“No,” she shot up, her voice cutting him off. “You are not a monster, Eugene Sledge. We are at war. We’ve all done terrible things here, but it does not make you a monster. The fact that you’re feeling like you are proves you’re not. It means you’re human, Gene.”

Another tear streaked down his cheek as he clenched his teeth. “After Bill and everyone we’ve lost, I wanted to get them back. I wanted to. You saw me yesterday!”

“Eugene! Look at me!” she ordered, cupping his cheeks as she implored his attention. His gaze wandered everywhere but her face until she spoke again, her tone much softer this time. “Hon, please look at me.”

Tear-filled hazel eyes met hers, and she tugged him a little closer, they’re faces only inches apart. “We all want to get them back. You are not a monster.”

“I don’t know who I am anymore,” he croaked, more tears spilling down his cheeks. “What if this is who I am now?”

“I know exactly who you are. You are Eugene Bondurant Sledge. You’re still that same boy from Mobile, Alabama who loved his dog more than anything, the same one who loved to fish with his father, and the very same one who I fell in love with before we even stepped foot on foreign soil.”

A sob escaped his lips, and his eyes squeezed shut, overwhelmed by her words. “There’s no way you can love me like this. You deserve someone else who-”

“I don’t love anyone else, Gene!” she urged, tears stinging her eyes. “I love you, and I’ll say it over and over, every single day, for as long as it takes to make you believe me.”

Shaking his head, he tried to break free from her touch, but she held on. “I’m not a good man.”

“You are good, Eugene. You are a good man. We’ve all done things we’re not proud of, but it’s how we respond to them that makes us who we are. This right here? It proves you’re a good man.”

Her words seemed to break through in his mind, and he froze for a moment. Pulling off his helmet, he moved (y/n)‘s hands from his face and cupped her cheeks, his red eyes still glossy. “I love you,” he murmured, voice wavering. “And I will spend the rest of my life working to be worthy of you if you’ll let me.”

The tears (y/n) had been holding back filled her eyes, a few of them trickling from her waterline. She nodded in his gentle hold. “You already are.”

He wiped a few tears away softly, a lopsided smile forming on his lips. “You’re too good for this world, darlin’,” Gene cooed. “You always see the good in people. Even me.”

With utmost care, Gene reached up and removed (y/n)‘s helmet, her tousled (y/h/c) spilling out. The fading sun added a soft glow to their faces, emphasizing the exhaustion etched in their features. As he delicately held the helmet aside, Eugene’s eyes met (y/n)‘s, a silent understanding passing between them. He closed the gap, his breath mixing with hers as his eyes lingered on her face, taking in every detail-the mud smudges, the fatigue-as if memorizing each nuance.

With a gentle touch, he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was a tender blend of longing and comfort, a quiet promise to stay by the other’s side. In that moment, the world around them ceased to exist. Time slowed as they embraced, finding solace in the simple act of being together at last. The sounds of war faded into the background, replaced by the gentle symphony of two hearts seeking refuge in the warmth of each other’s touch.