#also i was even too nervous to DRINK at thanksgiving because i wanted to be able to make a quick get away if necessary

[suzukiblu]

Excerpt from an in-progress DP x DC soulmate AU starring Jazz Fenton, a very unfortunate mugger, and a smoothie. Oh, and I guess Jason is there too.

Jazz meets her soulmate in, of all places, Park Row. Or as the locals call it, Crime Alley.

Seems about right for her life, she decides as she kicks the shit out of the guy who was trying to stab him for his wallet fifteen seconds ago. Her soulmate watches her curiously, seeming unconcerned by the fuss, and takes a sip of his smoothie.

Also seems about right, for her soulmate. A guy who got too nervous when necessary violence happened was not going to survive Thanksgiving in Amity Park, much less Christmas.

Well, it is Gotham.

"Hi," he says.

"Hi, sorry, one sec," Jazz says, then leans over the groaning mugger and offers him a card to the best local crisis center she's managed to track down via research and word of mouth in the four months she's been in Gotham. Not her card, obviously, since she just roundhouse-kicked the guy in the head to protect her soulmate from him and that's arguably a conflict of interest. Or close enough, anyway. "So you should check these guys out, they've got a very high success rate in their job program and there's an associated food bank and rent assistance, if you qualify."

"What?" the mugger says dazedly.

"Also if you ever touch my soulmate again I'll make you wish for the cold mercy of the Infinite Realms," Jazz adds pleasantly. The guy goes very, very pale. Then he snatches the card from her and runs for his life and eternal soul.

"This is the nicest thing the universe has ever done to me," her soulmate muses, taking another sip of his smoothie.

"Getting you mugged?" Jazz asks wryly, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Are you religious? Do you want kids?" her soulmate asks. "Also, who's your favorite Bat?"

"Robin, obviously," Jazz says. "The overdramatic and feral little stabby one, I mean. He reminds me of my little brother. Makes me feel a little bit maternal, to be honest. So that answers two out of three, and as far as religion goes, I only believe in Psychology Today, highly customized guns, and my mom's ninth-degree black belt."

"This better not awaken anything in me," her soulmate mutters under his breath.

"That seems unlikely, or we wouldn't be soulmates," Jazz says.

"Point," he says, sipping his smoothie again. Jazz didn't even know anywhere in Crime Alley sold smoothies, but she is new around here. "Wanna go break my bed? Or maybe go get coffee?"

"You've already got a smoothie," Jazz says.

"So I do," he says.

Jazz looks him over. He's her soulmate, so she's not surprised to find him gorgeous. She wasn't ever expecting a familial soulmate–Danny is a very intense sibling to have, and her parents are very intense parents to have, not to mention everything about Dani, and "soulcousins" aren't typically a thing–and she's never been especially interested in keeping around too many close friends, so considering all that, she was already expecting her soulmate to be a romantic one. If they are platonic, it's definitely only going to be because her soulmate is an aromantic asexual. Which he probably isn't, since he already asked about kids and religion and if she wanted to go break his bed.

Then again, she's met people who'll posture worse than that. Especially guys, and especially ace ones with a clear investment in their masculinity, and given this particular guy is built like a brick house could only dream to be, chances are he has some feelings about his masculinity. Though he's also drinking a visibly pink smoothie, not a neutral-colored protein shake or generic black coffee, so . . . fifty-fifty there, maybe?

Further inquiry will probably be required.

"I'm Jazz," she tells him. "What's your name?"

"Robin," he says. Then he–pauses. Blinks. "I mean–Robin."

He looks very confused for a second, and Jazz blinks too, and refocuses her eyes a bit. Oh, is he–

"Are you overshadowing that guy?" she assumes. For the love of–of course her soulmate would be a ghost, she thinks dryly. Who'd want a soulmate their mom and dad wouldn't want to grill for information and ask a thousand invasive questions, after all? "I mean, he's really hot, don't get me wrong, he looks good on you, but I'd rather meet you for real."

"'Overshadowing'?" Robin looks bemused.

"I'm Danny's sister," Jazz clarifies. Robin does not look less bemused. "You know, the new king?"

"What?" Robin says. Jazz frowns a little, feeling a bit bemused herself.

"Do you not get out much?" she asks.

"Never, actually, but also yes and constantly and way too often," Robin says. "My job is kind of demanding that way."

"What's your job?" Jazz asks curiously. Ghosts' jobs are always interesting, even if only for how they interact and manifest with their Obsessions. She wonders what his Obsession is, actually, because smoothies seem like an unlikely option but she doesn't have much else to go on here.

Can't be weirder than Box Ghost, either way.

"I'm a Bat," Robin says, then looks absolutely alarmed and also absolutely horrified.

"Huh," Jazz says, tilting her head. He seems really big to be one of the Robins, and a little too old besides. A year or two younger than her, maybe, and even the older Robin she's pretty sure is at best Danny's age. Though that's assuming this body is the one he fights crime in, admittedly. Although it's kinda funny if one of the Bats is just named Robin. Must get annoying on patrol, though. "I didn't know any of you were dead, but I guess that's not actually a surprise either, given the profession."

"Why did I say that to you?" Robin asks tightly.

"I told you, I'm the new king's sister," Jazz says. "You know, it's the royal family thing. Technically I'm his regent, legally speaking, but only because I'm better at paperwork and he doesn't count as a legal adult in the Infinite Realms yet. Hasn't been dead long enough, you know how it is. But I've been alive long enough to, apparently? But his 'being alive' technically stopped tracking at fourteen. It's complicated, basically."

"What the fuck does that mean?!" Robin demands.

"It means you can't lie to me because you're one of my brother's subjects," Jazz says, really not understanding his reaction. Every ghost knows this, after all. The only ones who wouldn't know it are too young to be away from their guardians' haunts or even leave the Infinite Realms at all. Definitely a ghost who knows how to overshadow someone this thoroughly and fully is old enough and experienced enough to know it, though. "Whose body is that, anyway?"

"It's my father's," Robin says. Jazz's eyes widen a little and she has several very concerned internal reactions before he chokes and sputters–"I mean–it's not–he's not–!"

"You realize there is no healthy way to mean that, right?" Jazz says. Robin looks frustrated and freaked out and she feels bad about it, because she didn't mean or want to upset him, but she clearly has. "Sorry. I mean, I still secretly feel like I'm the one parenting my parents half the time, you're not the only one with weird feelings about yours."

"I'm his," Robin says, then grits his teeth in visible pain. He's this close to crushing the smoothie cup he's holding but hasn't actually done it. Jazz wonders if that's an example of deliberate self-control or subconscious restraint.

She's pretty sure Robin didn't mean to say that, though.

"Are you okay?" she asks, a little concerned. Normally ghosts just stop talking about things they want to lie about, when they realize who she is.

"No," Robin says. "I'm just his. I've always been his, I always will be, his good soldier, his worst mistake, not his actual fucking son, why am I telling you this?!"

"I don't know," Jazz says, frowning in increased concern. "Usually people can work around the inability to lie a little bit, but you sound like you're being compelled to speak. Increasingly like, actually. Hm. What's your Obsession? And what kind of core do you have?"

"What?" he says.

"They might be making you unstable, is all," Jazz says. "I don't think it'd be a soulmate thing but to be fair I don't really know how that works. Are you dead, or are you a manifestation of something?"

"I'm dead," Robin says, staring at her. "That bastard clown beat my head in with a crowbar and blew up what was left of me. I woke up in my grave and–I–how did you know that?"

"Well, I didn't, that's why I asked," Jazz says reasonably, idly wondering why the Joker isn't dead yet, since this is Gotham and obviously it wouldn't be another "bastard clown" Robin was referencing, even if he wasn't a Bat. But like, at least dead via the court system, if nothing else. The Joker is insane, yes, but no one can argue he doesn't know right from wrong at this point. Does New Jersey just not have the death penalty, maybe? She hasn't thought to check. "Maybe it's the guy you're in? He's not drunk or high or anything, is he?"

"I hate drugs," Robin says, gritting his teeth again; tightening his grip on the smoothie again. He's trembling, just barely. "I hate them. I'd never touch them. I don't know what you are. You're scaring me. Please stop."

He definitely didn't mean to say that, Jazz can tell.

But . . . he doesn't know what she is.

He doesn't know.

Well, that's a problem.

"Robin," she says gently, and for some reason his face twists painfully at the sound of his own name. "Can I see your core? Please?"

[princhii]

↳ Feel It

bada lee x fem!reader

not proofread!

↳ cw!: 18+, dom!bada, drinking, use of weed, smut, use of strap, sub!reader, age gap (reader is of age, just refers bada as older woman!)

a/n: ahhh this is my first time ever writing anything so pls go easy on me yall 🫡 heavily inspired by the song ‘feel it’ by jacquees :] also lusher is referred to as both seoyoung and lusher! hope u enjoy also happy thanksgiving to those who celebrate ⭐️

“do you like the way it feels, mama?— shit, back that ass up on it just like that baby.”

and just like that, you were there. on her bed. ass up face down. how did you even get there again? oh yeah, that’s right.

the club.

———★✮꩜⋆

you were never really one to go out and party, let alone in a setting where you didn’t know your surroundings. yet, here you were, letting your bestfriend of five years, seoyoung, also known as lusher amongst everyone else— help you pick out an outfit for the night.

“oh, what about this? it’s…cute!”

“lush, i told you i want something casual. not an outfit that draws attention towards me.”

you rolled your eyes as your bestfriend kept begging you to please do it for her, just this once. and because you love her too much, and kind of wanted her to shut up, you decided to wear it. the rest of your evening was spent trying to get ready for a clubbing event your bestfriend got invited to. she’s known lots of people throughout all these years of being her bestfriend, yet you never really agreed to going to events like these with her. not because you were being rude, but because you genuinely just didn’t like that setting. it wasn’t really your ideal way of having ‘fun’. it also made you a little uneasy and a bit overwhelmed knowing lusher would probably get out of her way to show you off and introduce you to literally everyone she knew. and yes, that meant everyone.

that’s what you get for having a dancer as your bestfriend— even better, she’s in a crew.

of course, after five years of being very close, you knew about it all. you were there when it was announced she’d be on the second season of street woman fighter, and you were there when her crew ultimately won the show. you were also there when it came to her introducing you to her beloved crewmates. she was very affectionate and wanted her members to meet you personally. it was also an excuse to get to invite you to places with them, in which you did go— well, sometimes.

the rest of the crew grew fond of you and got used to your presence when you’d accompany them for rehearsals or just other activities. you yourself grew fond of the girls. except for one girl in particular. bada lee. you didn’t know what it was, but there was something about her that made you feel the most nervous around her. it could probably be because she was a bit older than everyone else, or it could be because of her carefree nonchalant aura, or it could also be the fact that she was so insanely attractive. and that’s something you for sure kept to yourself. you felt small around her anytime there’d be an interaction. like that one time you went back into their shared studio to grab your phone because you had left it in there.

you made your way back into the studio, heading towards the far right corner where you had left your phone. realizing you also left your charger, you quickly grabbed both. as far as you knew, it was just you in there. that was until you heard someone clear their throat rather loudly. as if they wanted you to know.

“ah, so that’s who’s phone it was.”

you froze. the all too familiar voice infiltrating your ears. you placed your missing items in your bag before turning around and making eye contact with the taller girl. she was standing by the doorway, keys in one hand and duffel bag in the other, assuming it was her dance bag. she gave you a small smile once you met each others gaze. it took everything in you to not audibly whimper at the sight. she was wearing her signature baggy sweats, some oversized shirt, and a cap to hold in her hair, a few strands loosely peeking through along with her bun. it was such a basic, casual outfit— but it had you melting. her attractive nature was something you were definitely not immune to.

“oh uh, yeah. was in a rush and must’ve forgotten it.” you awkwardly laughed, subconsciously gripping onto the straps of your bag for dear life.

bada glanced over at you before giving you a small nod and turning the main lights off.

“well, it’s a good thing i came back. otherwise i would’ve locked up and not notice someone being in here.” bada’s voice was kind, speaking to you very respectfully. truth be told, there was honestly no reason for you to be so nervous. but you were. you were very nervous around her. more nervous than the time you had to bail lusher out of jail, but that’s a story for a different time.

———★✮꩜⋆

“look, y/n, i promise you everything will be fine! just loosen up a little, it’s not a bad thing to have fun y’know?” lusher tried cheering you up, touching up her makeup in the backseat of the uber. you, on the other hand, were very anxious. in this moment you began to regret even coming.

“you know this isn’t even my thing. i just said yes because you promised me you’d do my laundry for a month…” and at that, your bestfriend laughed and lightly smacked your arm, gasping as she faked being offended.

the uber arrived at the infamous club lusher had been yapping about the entire drive there. you two stepped out before making way towards the entrance. it’s not like you were insecure about showing yourself off, you’re a very confident person actually! it’s just you hardly know anyone who’s attending and it’s the way your dress would tend to ride up with every step you took. lusher took your hand and gave it a light squeeze before sending you a smile as you both walked inside. the vibrations from the blaring speakers already reverberating against you, the reek of alcohol and other substances hitting your nose. you were quick to notice that lusher had immediately began greeting people, her hand still in yours as she tried to get you to engage and make conversation with a few people she knew. needless to say, it all went well. after a good thirty minutes of being dragged around and forced to interact with people, you were then led to the mini bar. you gave small waves and smiles as you saw some of the girls waiting for you and lusher to arrive.

“y/n, you look gorgeous!” kyma squealed, practically jumping out of the stool to wrap her arms around you and fawn over your outfit.

“that’s literally what i’ve been trying to tell her but she thinks it’s ‘too risqué‘, can you believe that?” your bestfriend laughed, some of the girls joining and trying to boost your confidence. and to all of their commotion, you said your thank you’s when accepting their compliments and attempts at bringing your confidence up.

eventually, you decided to indeed let loose, and ended up having a few drinks, a shot or two, and moved your body onto the dance floor with the girls. throughout the night you really did try your best to have fun and take advantage of it since it’s not something you go for. and it was working! you were genuinely having a good time. as you made your way back to the mini bar to grab another drink, the bartender working was quick to grab your attention.

“‘s been paid for, ready to drink.” was all he said before going back to attend other club goers. you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion before grabbing the drink the bartender had referred to. obviously skeptical, you eyed the glass. hell, you even sniffed the drink, because you know, you never know! after observing the glass full of alcohol you decided to down it. tonight you were letting loose, remember? might as well go all in. your face became flushed and slowly but surely, all the drinks were making their way back to hit you.

“didn’t really take you as a drinker so i had to see for myself, pretty.”

once again, you froze. only this time, you could feel the older woman’s breath down against your neck as she leaned into your ear, causing you to shudder whilst her velvety voice rang through your ears. bada always had a habit of just appearing out of nowhere— at least, that’s what it seemed like. turning around to face the taller girl, who was a little too close, you forced a half assed grin and gave her a small ‘thank you’ for the drink. you discreetly held your breath as best as you could, she was seriously standing close. her gaze slowly dropped down your body, confidently checking you out. a small chuckle left the dancer’s lips before backing away realizing she was indeed, way too close. you cleared your throat, trying to ease the tension and act normal— whatever that is.

“you looked like you were having fun just a while ago, why so quiet?”

oh i don’t know maybe the fact that you bought me a drink and proceeded to call me pretty then just happened to stand right in front of my face, i don’t know.

you thought to yourself, letting out a soft frustrated sigh, you rolled your eyes at the girl and turned back around getting yourself ready to order yet another shot because clearly you were not loose enough if you still managed to get this tense around bada even while being tipsy. before you could even open your mouth to order, a hand grabbed your shoulder, pulling you back slightly. whymewhymewhymewhyme, you cursed at yourself, gritting your teeth behind closed lips.

“slow down, you’ve drank quite a bit i saw you. let’s go with the others, yeah?” her hand trailed down your arm, leaving goosebumps across your skin, grabbing your hand. “i don’t normally condone this but,” she continued. “minah and tatter recently got new stuff, c’mon.” and with that you found yourself getting dragged to a far corner to a lounge room of some sort, some of the girls already sitting there. excited squeals and claps were given once you and bada walked in to join, taking seats with them. you groaned when you realized what the girls were doing, then groaned even louder when lusher blew a cloud directly into your face followed by a fit of giggles. tatter looked over at you, handing you the freshly rolled joint you assumed she just made not even minutes ago. bada nudged your arm, giving you a small nod and encouraging you to take it. you knew some of the girls would smoke every here and there. you even smoked occasionally with lusher some nights. it’s not like you’ve never smoked, you just didn’t want to deal with the consequences of your own actions the morning after. ultimately accepting tatter’s offer, you grabbed the joint and let minah light it up for you. you placed the joint in between your lips and inhaled deeply, taking in as much as you could despite already being somewhat drunk. exhaling, you blew out the smoke towards the ceiling, throwing your head back and smiling to yourself. you took another generous hit then handed it over to minah.

“what?” your voice cracked slightly as you coughed, bada glaring at you.

then she smirked.

then her eyes darkened.

then her tongue swiped across her puffy lips.

oh god.

———★✮꩜⋆

bada’s grip on your hips grew tighter, forcefully pushing you against the wall. your fingers lost in her striped colored hair. the kiss was filled with nothing but pure sin. her tongue hungrily exploring the inside of your mouth, she’d occasionally pull her tongue away to suck on yours. bada pulled away, giving you both time to catch your breaths. she looked down at you, her thumbs rubbing circles against your hips.

“ever since seoyoung introduced us to you, i’ve been dreaming of this.” she huffed out, grabbing you by the chin. “you’re so fucking bad.” her thumb lightly grazing your bottom lip. looking up, you caught her biting her lip as she focused looking down at you and scanning your body in a now disheveled dress. bada’s hand’s slowly trailed down your sides, then down to the hem of your dress that was now hiked up even more. she let it sit up above your hips. you felt her lean into you, her large hands going back to firmly grip your hips, only this time she placed her leg in between yours, pulling you down against her thigh.

“fuck, you’re so pretty…” her voice sent chills down your spine, she sounded so sexy.

“follow me.”

and you did. she opened the door to her master bedroom and let you walk in first. before even having any time to observe the older woman’s room, you felt her arms wrap around you from behind, her face buried into your neck. she placed small kisses across your neck until she got comfortable enough to start biting and sucking. your breathing grew shaky, whimpering ever so slightly at the attention bada gave your neck attentively. although this was not the time to think about it, you were definitely not excited to have to explain to lusher why you and bada left together so secretively.

“bed, now.”

you snapped out of your thoughts once you heard bada’s voice and felt her breath against your ear. she guided you over to her bed, laying you down gently, contrary to the way she was just being rough with you. bada swiftly helped you out of your dress before leaning back slightly to take in your now exposed figure. she smirked to herself before tugging her bottom lip in between her teeth, glaring back over at you. you felt a familiar heat pool in your lower stomach, quickly reacting and crossing your legs. the striped haired girl snarled and forced your legs back open as she placed her large hands on your thighs, forcefully separating them.

“don’t get all shy on me now. i see the way you stare at me, god, you really thought i wouldn’t notice?”

her hands slowly caressed your inner thighs. a low groan escaped her lips.

“and now you’re making a mess on my new sheets.”

you bit your lip trying to hold back your whimpers. you couldn’t help but drip at the way bada spoke to you, the way she teased you by grabbing on your thighs, just shy away from your heat. a surprised yelp was let out as you felt bada pull you just towards the edge of her bed. she knelt down and propped one of your legs up on her shoulder. the older woman lightly blew against your wet core, the cool sensation causing you to moan and involuntarily buck your hips towards her.

“such a needy little thing.” bada teased you, placing a small kiss against your inner thigh.

“tell me what you want, princess.”

her long slender fingers softly tracing just the outside of your folds, teasing you when she lightly brushed over your now wet cunt. you felt your heart beating out of your chest as your breathing grew heavier, shakier.

you looked down at bada while she peered up at you from in between your legs. unfortunately you couldn’t hold back any longer and the sight alone was enough to make you throw your head back and let out a desperate whine. bada laughed at you, her laughter bouncing off the walls.

“i’m gonna make you feel it, mama.”

she got up from between your legs and leaned into you, placing a soft kiss against your temple.

“make me feel like you ain’t ever had it..” she huffed out lowly into your ear, nibbling softly against your earlobe. you heard a light ringing in your ears as you started to feel dizzy. her weight on top of yours, one of her hands still groping and caressing your thigh while her other hand was trailing up and down your side, nails slightly scratching at you. wet sloppy kisses were scattered all around your neck, bada making sure to mark every spot her lips connected to. definitely was not going to be fun explaining why you have so many hickeys along your neck.

“b-bada wait—“ you pushed her away gently, her face hovering above yours. she furrowed her eyebrows at your sudden movements.

you looked away shyly, turning your head to the side. a low chuckle erupted from the older woman, it was like poison.

“haven’t even started giving you what you need and you already wanna run from it, baby?” bada teased, pressing her hand down against your lower stomach with slight pressure. you instinctively let out a rather loud moan, arching your back into her touch. she took this as her sign to keep going, lowering her face down to your chest this time. her warm tongue swirling around one of your nipples, her free hand pinching and rolling the other. you let out quiet curses and whimpers as she got to work. and, yes, she marked you there too. after a few minutes, bada pulled away and looked down at your chest, contently humming to herself as she saw the bruises forming across your chest, on your boobs themselves, and right underneath. she came back to lean in for another kiss.

her tongue almost immediately forcing itself into your mouth. loud wet noises from the kiss were all that could be heard in the room. her hands freely roaming across your body, groping you hungrily. you let out moans into the girl’s mouth, your arms snaking their way to wrap around her. you bit her bottom lip, tugging on it slightly in between your teeth. your eyes fluttered opened to look up at bada, her lip still in between your teeth as you pulled it slightly, never breaking eye contact. you felt her grip tighten on your waist, her thumbs dipping into your sides roughly.

“fuck…” she groaned as you released her bottom lip, now becoming slightly swollen. giving you a light peck against your temple once more, she went back down to kneel in front of you. repeating her previous movements and propping your leg up against her shoulder.

“seoyoung never mentioned anything about you being a slut.” bada chuckled, her index finger lightly, so painfully lightly, tapped on your throbbing clit. your hips naturally bucking up to gain more friction. the girl continued doing this until she herself grew impatient.

“be good and take it all for me, yeah baby? be a good girl for me?”

you whined shamelessly, nodding your head and babbling incoherently. bada smirked, assuming that was your way of agreeing with her. she peeked up at you from between your legs, giving your thighs a light squeeze before peppering soft kisses just on the outside of your heat. a loud cry rippled through the bedroom walls as you felt her tongue lick a long strip against your folds, hands immediately darting down to grip onto her hair, your chest shakily rising and falling. her tongue dangerously, and skillfully, working its way into your wet cunt. you felt pressure being applied to your clit which caused you to choke out a moan, your fists now full of her colored hair. her thumb rubbed circles across your clit, applying pressure as her tongue continued to work its way into your core, going as deep as she could. strings of babbled whimpers and curses escaped your lips as the girl kept working her way into you. bada’s lips locked around your aching clit, teeth lightly grazing on the bundle of nerves with every suck she gave. tugging on her hair, you tried pulling her in even closer. until you felt two long digits scissoring their way inside of your sopping cunt.

“h-hey slow down—“ your barely coherent sentence was cut off by a loud moan, feeling her fingers curl up inside of you as she gave a particularly strong suck on your clit. you felt her moaning into your pussy, causing the vibrations to make you weaker, needier.

“ ‘m gonna cum..” you whimpered out, your hands moving to grip the sheets, bucking your hips into the older girl’s mouth.

taking note of this, bada completely removed herself, now hovering over you once again. you mewled out at her, begging her to go back and finish what she had started. in swift movements, she removed her top along with her bra. you gawked at her, eyes lighting up at her exposed upper half. she smirked at you, lowering her face into the crook of your neck. she gave small kisses this time, they were sweet and playful.

you could hear sounds of rustling fabric, you craned your neck to the side and tried to look down at both of your bodies. her pants now disheveled and tossed elsewhere. but that wasn’t it. your eyes practically bulged out once you noticed she was already wearing a harness with a very large toy attached to it.

“like what you see, princess?” bada chuckled, her lips kissing all over your jawline. her large hands roaming your body once more, groping you with desire and the need for more.

“you know, when i found out you were coming with seoyoung,” she gently and carefully sat you up before flipping you over. your stomach now on the bed and your face resting against one of her soft pillows.

“i just knew i had to wear this.” she teased, her hair brushing up against your skin as she leaned to whisper in your ear. snaking one of her hands to the front of your neck as the other one stroked her strap, playfully rubbing the head against your wet folds. you opened your mouth to say something but ultimately failed doing so. the only thing coming out of your mouth being whines and weak attempts at begging. her hands roamed down your back before stopping right above your ass. she slowly trailed her hands down lower before forcefully groping your ass and letting out a guttural groan.

“such a nice ass you have , baby, fuckkk.” bada bit her lip, leaning back and smacking your ass, cursing under her breath as she watched the way it jiggled. you cried out as you felt her hand forcefully smacking your lower half. you managed to lift your head up slightly and turn around, looking back at bada. her eyes were dark and heavy, wet tongue licking her lips, her gaze never leaving the sight of your ass. you suddenly had an idea.

keeping your sight on her, you lifted your hips up, now supporting yourself on your knees. you kept the upper half of your body pressed nicely against the bed. your position was nothing short from slutty. your back creating a perfect arch as your ass was fully on display for the older woman right behind you. heavy breathing was emitting from bada, her hands now holding onto your hips as she slowly and teasingly rubbed her silicone cock across your folds. over and over and over again. you moaned desperately, grinding back against bada, wanting to feel more of it. you heard bada mutter a few curses before feeling the tip of her strap peeking it’s way into your heat. you couldn’t help but let out an almost pornographic moan while you felt her forcing just the head of her strap inside of you. to say it was big was an understatement. it was huge. the tip of her cock alone was enough to make your eyes water. another whine from you was let out when you felt her hand smack your ass once more.

you grabbed fistfuls of the sheets just beneath you, trying to pull yourself up. it all failed once you heard bada growl lowly, forcing your hips backwards which caused you to take in her entire length.

you cried out loudly, giving in and letting your tears fall freely. bada laughed quietly at your given state. but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to absolutely ruin you right here right now. she gently started to pull out but was quickly stopped once your hand went back to grab hers.

“don’t take it out…please d-“

bada didn’t need you to tell her twice.

she shoved her strap all the way in one sharp thrust, her nails digging into your hips. you moaned her name out, your face falling directly into her pillow. she gave a few shallow thrusts, wanting to give you at least some time to adjust to her length. regardless, you kept whining underneath her, begging for more.

bada didn’t give you what you wanted. so naturally you decided to do what you thought was best.

you took the initiative and started rolling your hips back, shamelessly fucking yourself on her strap. you kept rocking back, wanting to feel every inch burying inside of your cunt. bada couldn’t help but let out a rather loud moan at the sight, her eyebrows furrowing while her face contorted into one of pleasure. her arm draped across your back before her hand grabbed a fistful of your hair, forcing your face back down on her pillow, your cheek pressing up against it.

“do you like the way it feels, mama?— shit, back that ass up on it just like that baby.” bada talked you through it as you kept fucking yourself onto the silicone cock attached to the older woman, her own clit becoming even more sensitive from the friction. she groaned right beside your ear once she lowered herself and hovered above you.

“so so so fucking pretty and good for me.”

she forced your entire body back down so you laid flatly across her bed. her strap coming out of your now painfully aching pussy. it’s not that it was actually painful anymore, it was the fact that she removed herself when all you wanted was to take her inside repeatedly until it became too much. and even then, you’d still want even more. your little crush on the older woman now becoming complete lust and desire, you wanted her more than anything ever right now.

and as if she could read your mind, she was giving you exactly what you wanted.

she placed her knees on either side of your body, her long legs slightly draping over your smaller ones. she pressed her body completely on top of yours. you could feel how hard her nipples were as they brushed against your back. bada grabbed her strap before aligning it directly in front of your heat. she let out a needy groan before shoving it all inside, chuckling slightly to herself when she heard you whining. her hands smoothing down your back and on your sides.

“so fucking pretty.”

bada huffed out in between each rough thrust, loving the way you cried her name out. you gripped onto the sheets once again, practically screaming into the pillow. your vision became blurred from the tears, your mouth biting down onto the pillow. bada did not like that one bit. grabbing your hair, she yanked you up towards her, your back pressing against her front perfectly. from this new angle, you could feel her thrusting even deeper. throwing your head back, you rested your head against her chest, her long arms wrapping your smaller figure. you choked out moans, your mind growing fuzzy. but god it felt so damn good.

“jesus christ, y/n you’re so hot. god you take me so well, don’t you? you like that?” she teased, biting down on your shoulder. she picked up her pace, thrusting faster, deeper. her hand trailed down to your lower stomach, pressing down.

“you feel that, princess? be good and tell me how good it feels, y/n.”

you turned your head slightly to look up at her, well, at least try to. you opened your mouth to respond but only managed to moan erotically, her hand still pressing down.

“feels so g-good— bada please!” you wailed out, reaching down to rub your neglected clit. you shut your eyes closed, letting the overwhelming waves of pleasure take over your entire body completely. bada smacked your hand away, not being too happy at your movements. instead, she replaced your hand with hers. her long fingers rubbing your bundle of nerves while she kept fucking into you.

you gasped for air as your legs started to tremble, your thighs growing weak. bada could tell just how close you were, and she was enjoying ever second of it.

“mmm, ‘m cumming bada i’m—“

once again, she pulled out completely. in which you let out a frustrated groan, lightly smacking bada’s arm.

“wanna taste you.” she whispered to you, kissing your cheek softly before taking the strap off and tossing it to the side. she turned over and laid on the bed, taking your hand and pulling you towards her.

“sit on my face baby, want you to finish here.” she pointed to her mouth, giving you her signature smirk as she winked at you. hesitantly, but still obeying, you climbed over on top of her until you hovered just a few inches above her face, not wanting to fully sit. you felt her kiss your inner thigh before she wrapped her arms around your thighs and forced you to sit on her face fully. immediately her tongue darted out, prying inside your heat. your eyes rolled back as you leaned over to hold yourself up, grabbing onto the headboard. her nails digging into your thighs as she devoured you. your hips started rolling frantically against her face, the top of her nose brushing against your clit repeatedly.

“o-oh my god yes…bada fuck please.” your grinding grew erratic, you felt yourself nearing your much needed orgasm.

you felt her voice vibrating through your cunt, but couldn’t make out what she was trying to say as she never once separated her tongue from working its way into you. her hand reached up to rub your clit, licking and sucking like her life depended on it.

she’s too proud to admit it, but she was getting off to this. her own hips needily bucking into the air with ever moan of her name you gave out, with every cry and whine, with ever lick she gave your cunt. and god was it her favorite.

all it took was one final lick and rub on your clit before you felt yourself coming completely undone. your body shook above bada, your thighs trembling against her head. you leaned forward to rest your forehead against the headboard, letting out continuous moans and wailing out bada’s name. the dancer lapped up the mess you made, helping you ride out your orgasm until she felt you stop shaking and recollecting yourself. her arms extended out to help you off of her. you managed to make yourself comfortable and laid next to the older woman, your breathing still heavy as well as hers. bada brushed some of the hairs out of your face, some of them sticking to your forehead due to the sweat. she kissed your nose and poked at it, giggling at your dazed state.

‘she just fucked me stupid and now she’s acting all cute, how is that even possible?’ you thought to yourself as you looked at her with admiring eyes.

“you did so well, princess.” she praised you, stroking your hair. all you could do was give her a small smile and lean into her touch. you scooted closer to her, burying your face into her chest. her heartbeat was still pretty fast. she wrapped her arms around you trying to pull you in even closer. she peppered kisses onto your head, whispering sweet praises to you. you felt your face heat up all over again as you grew nervous. which is very ironic given the fact that you had just been fucked by bada. you removed yourself from her chest to look up at her only to find her already locking her eyes with yours. you couldn’t help but laugh softly. she was so beautiful. her lips curled into a smile. before you knew it, your lips locked and soon grew to be a playful yet passionate kiss. you cupped her face with one of your hands, your thumb caressing her cheek. her teeth lightly nibbled on your bottom lip.

the sound of a loud ringtone could be heard coming from the living room. you smiled into the kiss before pulling away and kissing the corner of her lips.

“it’s my phone, let me go ch—“ you were cut off by bada pulling you back down.

“we’re not finished.”

just like that, bada had you pinned down once again.

———★✮꩜⋆

“ugh, why won’t she pick up the damn phone?” lusher sighed and threw her phone onto the couch.

“i’m sure y/n is fine! i saw her leaving with bada. actually, me and kyma saw them leave together.” minah perked up, trying to comfort a worried lusher.

“dude…they’re probably fucking..” tatter joked, trying to stifle a laugh.

lusher’s eyes widened at the thought, quickly shaking her head and trying to erase the image from her head.

“oh my god! they’re so fucking.”

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 24

PREVIOUS

“What do you MEAN Smithy is in the hospital with a stab wound to his stomach?!” Nicky’s own voice is agony for his hangover but honestly, how the fuck else was he supposed to respond when he had asked Andrew where FF was and gotten that as a response.

“Calm down.” Andrew says and he looks tired, looks stressed, and maybe even just…a touch nervous?

Nicky isn’t as good as Neil at reading Andrew Minyard. He doesn’t think anyone will ever be as fluent in the language of Andrew Minyard as Neil Josten but Nicky has picked up some key phrases.

He can see when he’s making a joke that is a step too far. He can see when his cousin wants to kiss Neil but is holding back. He can see when his cousin is stressed.

He can see a guilty curve to Andrew’s spine.

“Andrew, answer me honestly, did you stab my sweet baby freshman?” Nicky asks and he’s not sure if the nausea he feels anymore is from horror or from the sheer number of drinks he had put in his system the night before.

Roland usually cuts him off before he gets this level.

Roland also has a habit of pouring heavier when he’s stressed.

Roland also also tends to make complicated fruity drinks that Nicky likes when he’s stressed.

Andrew’s jaw tenses but it’s Neil who speaks up, “It was an accident. It happened during a fight.” Neil says and Nicky throws his hands up in the air.

“You got into a FIGHT with my sweet baby freshman? Sweet little Smithy? The boy who made brownies that made me feel kinda straight for a dead woman?!” Nicky exclaims and sees Andrew and Neil open their mouths to say something but, “I promised him that if he wanted I’d get him something hard that’d mess his GUTS up but this isn’t what I MEANT.” He lets himself collapse dramatically over the table.

“Nicky, shut up!” Kevin hisses from his spot on the couch.

“When the fuck did Kevin get here?!” Because seriously, how fucked up was Nicky last night that he doesn’t remember Kevin coming on this Columbia trip? Where’d he sit? He couldn’t really remember coming over after Thanksgiving. Had Andrew put Kevin in the trunk? Had Andrew put Nicky in the trunk?

“He came with Wymack.” Neil cut in before Nicky started testing reality. “Wymack is at the hospital since he’s…uh…he’s the…”

“Medical Power of Attorney” Andrew answers.

“Yes! Thank you, the Medical power of attorney for Smith. He needed surgery and Wymack wanted to be nearby in case he had to make any pressing decisions.” Neil explains and yeah that tracks, he knows a little bit about FF’s family and knows that aside from his grandma on his dad’s side the rest can go take a long walk off a short volcano observation platform

“Okay, that explains why Kevin is here….how?! Despite all of the unwarranted advice, Kevin is not a medical professional.” Nicky says before turning to Kevin, “So Kevin, what insane Exy-related reason are you here? Don’t lie and say it’s because you want to sign the get well soon card.” He hisses.

“Fuck you!” Kevin spits, “I need to know how long Smiths is going to be out of commission and what his PT is going to look like. He was supposed to be starting during the spring season.” Kevin growls.

“There it is!” Nicky throws up his hands.

“Nicky, just calm down!” Neil pleads.

“How can I stay calm? Andrew stabbed Smithy! So not only is my favorite freshman in the hospital Andrew’s going to end up back on those god forsaken meds again!” Nicky shouts and buries his face in his hands.

“Smith isn’t going to say that.” Andrew’s voice is calm but Nicky can hear the slight edge.

“Oh yeah?” Nicky asks because he could see FF promising to never mention who stabbed him if Andrew would just spare his life. FF was going to be even MORE of a disaster when it came to his anxiety around Andrew. Nicky wouldn’t be surprised if his friend just straight up dropped out after this. His cousin is safe but he’s absolutely going to lose his friend.

“Because he’s saying Romero Malcolm stabbed him.” Andrew finishes.

Nicky sits up.

“Wait, what?” Nicky asks.

“Last night Romero Malcolm was at Eden’s.” Neil says voice even in a way that lets Nicky know that he’s trying to stay calm, “Smith recognized him, heard he wanted to grab,” Neil swallows thickly, “…grab one of my friends and saw them looking at…” Neil trails off and looks to Andrew who shakes his head, “…around for someone to grab.” Neil seems to decide and Nicky knows when something is being hidden from him but he’s more interested in the story than what Neil is hiding at the moment, “He got Romero’s attention so that he wouldn’t do anything bad in Eden’s and let Roland know to call help. He went out alone into the alley but Romero didn’t follow him.” Neil explains.

“Oh thank god.” Nicky sighs.

“Because he’d alerted Jackson Plank was lying in wait to ambush him.” Neil continues.

“Oh dear god.” Nicky exclaims.

“He uh…” Neil looks to Andrew who shakes his head again, “okay we don’t know exactly HOW Smith managed to do it but he beat Jackson up pretty bad.” Neil explains.

Nicky feels his brain stop working.

He has watched FF trip over his own feet, walk into four different trees, and almost sprain his ankle walking across a flat surface. He knows FF has been watching self-defense videos and had even gotten some pointers from Matt but even Matt had told him his better bet was probably just to yell “WOW WHAT’S THAT OVER THERE?!”, point behind the attacker, and run as fast as humanly possible away from a fight.

Neil is still talking.

Nicky boots back up quickly.

“…a gun. He tackled Romero into Andrew and Andrew’s knife ended up in Smith’s stomach on accident while they were wrestling for the gun. Smith is the one who said he’s going to tell everyone who asks that it was Romero. He even said it to me.” Neil says with an awkward laugh.

“And you believed him.” Andrew says and there’s warmth in his cousin’s eyes as he looks at Neil and teases him.

“And I believed him.” Neil confirms.

“Okay, so you swear to me that you did not INTENTIONALLY stab my BFF?” Nicky asks looking at Andrew seriously.

“BFF, seriously?” Kevin asks.

“Best Freshman Friend.” Nicky answers quickly, “Don’t worry Kevin, you lose out to Matt in all regards for my Best Senior Friend.” He says.

Kevin just flips him off but Nicky turns his attention back to Andrew, “Andrew, I need to hear it.” He says .

“I did not intentionally stab Smith.” Andrew confirms.

Nicky lets the horrified nausea leave him with only his hangover nausea.

“Okay, we can work with that.”  Nicky leans back. “Have you heard from that Agent?” he asks looking at Neil.

Neil nods but then looks nervous and shoots a look towards Kevin, “The FBI is sending Browning and a field office agent to talk with us but…Ichirou also contacted me.” He says and Nicky watches as Kevin perks up.

“He did?!” Kevin squawks looking around like he expected the head of the Moriyama family to appear from the shadows.

“He wants to make sure we do our part to keep the Moriyama name out of this. He is going to deal with Romero and Jackson himself.” Neil says looking nervous.

Nicky clenches his eyes shut, “Well you’re not going to mention them right?” he hears Kevin ask.

“Of course not Kevin.” Nicky hears Andrew hiss.

“Good.” Kevin says.

There’s silence in the wake of Neil’s statement.

Nicky takes a deep breath and wishes his head was a little less agonizing. “Why aren’t we at the hospital to see Smithy?” he asks because he has nothing he can do about Ichirou so he may as well put it out of his mind.

There is some grumbling.

“Wymack said that he’ll just make us sit in the waiting room without any updates.” Neil says. “We’re picking up Smith’s grandma from the airport and she’s our ticket to getting an actual update beyond ‘not dead yet’ from Wymack.” He adds.

“What, you really can’t get updates without Wymack?” Nicky asks.

Andrew looks at Nicky and Nicky can’t read a single thing his cousin is thinking.

“What’s Smith’s first name Nicky.” Andrew asks.

“Oh God fucking Dammit.” Nicky’s head hurts too bad for this.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

Per your requests:

@i-have-three-feelings

 @blep-23 @dreamerking27 @andreilsmyreligion @belodensetdust @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world @obscureshipsandchips @booklover242 @whataboutmyfries @sahturnos @pluto-pepsi @dreamerthinker @passinhosdetartaruga @leftunknownheart @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredead @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwme @tayspots @nick-scar @crazy-fangirl2524 @blue-jos10 @stabbyfoxandrew @splishsplashyouropinionistrash @sammichly @the-broken-pen @bitchesdoweknowu @very-small-flower @ghostlyboiii @its-a-paxycab @bisexual-genderfluid-fan @cheesecookie @theoneandonlylostsock @foxsoulcourt @blueleys @adverbialstarlight @elia-nna @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner @nikodiangel @foxandcrow-inatrenchcoat @hallucinatedjosten @satanic-foxhole-court @vexingcosmos @chalilodimun @insectsgetcooked @angry-kid-with-no-money @queer-crows @lillyndra @themundanemudperson @readertodeath @apileofpillows @mortalsbowbeforeme @hellomynameismoo @next-level-mess @youreonlylow @interstellarfig @notprocrastinatingatalltoday @percyjacksonfan3 @queenofcrazy27 @bsmr261 @ghostlyscares @spencellio @adinthedarkroom @harpymoth @sufferingjustalilbit @anxietymoss @oddgreyhound @ohno-myhyperfixation-itsbroken @ken22789 @atiredvampire @isoldescorner @not--a--pipedream @azure-wing @bushbees  @roonilwazlib-main @crumplelush @foldedaces-paperbirds @thesenseinnonsense @let-tyrants-fear @ketchupandfries @legowerewolf @deadlydodos @but-we-respect-his-craft @cariniqe @zanypersonapricotbiscuit @lesbian-blackbeard @lesbiansupernatural @silvermasquerade @thepeachfuzz @minniemariex @kazoo-the-demjin @gaypomegranate @ji-nk-ies @neilimfinejosten @omgrubelangel @itsyouitsmeorpheuseurydice @percabethotplove @cozyrosykay @foxyatlas​

The requests to be added to the tag list keep being spread out across a few different areas. If I missed you please just ask again in the replies I promise I just missed you.

As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it right but you didn’t get a notification there might be something switched around in your settings that won’t let me tag you properly?

[turbulentscrawl]

More Naib HCs: SFW & NS/FW

Some relationship hcs for my second favorite man (tied with Luca eheh).

I've got a short work week because of Thanksgiving, but I'll actually be spending the holiday alone. So, I'd love to get some more requests and matchups to keep me busy! I'll write for all IDV characters (even if I don't have anything posted for them yet!)

Enjoy! <3

Naib Subedar

SFW

-Naib is the type of person who sees the appeal in several different personality types, so he’s capable of falling for all sorts. That said, he subconsciously suppresses his romantic interest until the other person makes theirs clear. His line of work scares a lot of people off, so he prefers to play it safe rather than waste his time or risk making someone nervous. As soon as you make a move, though? Naib Suave-edar has entered the chat. I'm sorry I couldn't resist that joke.

-He also intimidates a lot of people with his sheer intensity. Naib has a strong, goal-oriented personality and he doesn’t shy away from things that are ‘embarrassing’. He speaks plainly about his feelings and intentions with you; you’ll never be left wondering where you stand with him.

-He’s so casual about compliments? He could be telling you a story about some place he visited and just drop the most heart-throbby lines. “Before I knew it the sun was coming up, and it was the same gold color that’s in your eyes, and this heron flew up—" And he just moves on like you shouldn’t wanna smother his face with your lips???

-VERY protective of his partner. Not possessive, to be clear. He’s just traumatized a worrywart. In this modern world, he’d want you to always share your location with him, and message him whenever you leave or arrive somewhere. Also, you’d better put him on your emergency contact lists. He wants to get to you ASAP if something happens. This all can be as sweet as it is frustrating, and it will be a long-term struggle in your relationship if you don’t like it. He’d secretly appreciate it if you reciprocated the concern, too. If you ever ask him to do any of the above, he’ll do it without complaint.

-Aside from being afraid of your spontaneous death, he’s fine if you two have to be separated for a while. You’re going on a beach trip with your friends? “Drive safe, love you, remember to respond to my good morning messages and call me at least once a day so I can hear your voice.” As long as you check in a couple times a day, he can control his anxiety.

-He always carries a picture of you. Keeps it folded together with the one of his mother. He’d love if you could meet her someday….

NS/FW

-He’s a switch, but the frequency he takes either role depends on the overall relationship dynamic. If Naib takes the leading role in the day-to-day, that will carry over to the bedroom, and vice versa. If you guys are more independent and rather equal, it’s a pretty even split of him going dom vs sub.

-Naib isn’t considered the wittiest guy around. He likes to banter but he's only good with roasting people. When he does come up with a good, dirty one-liner, it’s somehow only when you’ve got a drink to your mouth. You’re like 70% sure he just likes making you choke. Is this foreplay?

-Completely serious, he's a great kisser. His experience is moderate, but Naib reads body language well and learns fast. Give him just 30 (nonconsecutive) minutes to make out with you, test you, and he's got your weaknesses locked down.

-Naib likes sensation-enhancing stuff in the bedroom. Restraints, blindfolds, ice, and waxplay are all things he’s down for in moderation (giving or receiving). Gags are a hard no. He’s a stickler for having a safe word. If you’re gagged, you can’t use it. So it’s a no-go.

-He’s also kinda into semi-public sexy times? Call him an adrenaline junkie, but there’s a certain thrill to nearly being caught. He’s a very stealthy guy and can find some great spots for this where the chances of being caught are lower than they seem. That said, the no gags rule still stands, so it’s unlikely he’d suggest this unless he can trust you to keep quiet.

-Several rounds of sex is one of the few things you can rely on to tire Naib out. He’s high-energy and has super erratic sleep patterns, but if you two go at it for an hour or so he’s out like a light. He snores just a bit, not too loud. I promise it’s cute!

[morganski-19]

The One with the Trifle Pt 2

part 1 here

A little while later, Robin and Eddie return, bringing the trifle with them. Argyle, thoroughly stoned, walks over to it, leaning down to stare at it eye level.

“Looks great, dude. What is it?”

“English trifle. I found this old cookbook in a thrift shop and thought it looked good. And there was no oven involved, so nothing is burnt this year,” Robin points the last question at Steve, glaring at him.

Steve presses his lips together, trying not to say anything bad. “Yep, nothing looks burnt.”

“Just wait until you taste it,” she excitedly goes on. “I tried everything separately and it was so good, so I’m excited to see what it tastes like all together.”

“What’re the layers?” Argyle asks, still staring at the dessert.

“Lady fingers, then jam, custard, that I made from scratch, raspberries, more ladyfingers, then beef sauteed with peas and onions. More custard, a layer of bananas, and then some whipped cream. Weird right?”

Nancy chokes on her drink. “Weird. What’s weird about it?”

“The beef. Everything else is so sweet it just seems out of place. But then I was like, there’s a mince meat pie. And pies are sweet, so this is just normal for them I guess.”

Eddie claps his hands, getting everyone attention. Totally not nervous about all of this. “Yeah, so normal. Is the rest of the food ready? I am starved.”

They all sit down at the table and have their dinner. The rest of the food is very good, no complaints there. They play cards and talk in between dinner and dessert, after everyone helps clean up of course. Eddie might convince Argyle to give him a joint, just to prepare a little bit. Also, he hates Thanksgiving, so it helps.

“Remind me again why you hate Thanksgiving,” Nancy asks after crushing them all in a round of poker.

“My dad liked to think that you couldn’t get arrested on holidays, which isn’t true. When I was nine, he stole a car, immediately got caught, then got arrested. Happened again when I was twelve. And then I think again when I was fifteen, but I was living with Wayne at that point. Every year, people get together to be thankful, while I get reminded of my dick of a father. Who is probably in jail again for doing something stupid.”

Jonathan winces. “That sucks, man.”

Eddie shuffles the cards. “Yeah. But my uncle’s great though. More of a father to me than my own father was. Would have invited him if he didn’t already have plans.”

They play a few more rounds, Eddie able to sneak in win when Nancy gets dealt a bad hand. Jonathan even wins once, even though he’s a bit confused at what game they’re really playing.

Then it’s time, and Robin starts to plate the trifle. Taking a big spoonful of all the layers and handing them to everyone. Finally sitting down with her own piece, with a huge smile. Steve takes a deep breath in preparation. Nancy gives Steve one last dead glare. One that says both “this is your fault” and “if you mess this up, I will kill you”.

Jonathan pokes around the plate with his fork, inspecting it. Argyle looks actually excited to eat this and Eddie is just twirling the fork around in his hand waiting for someone else to eat it first.

“Steve, I want you to take the first bite,” Robin says, ever so sweetly. With just a touch of malice in her voice. “Since you always doubt my cooking so much.”

Steve nods, pained. “Right. Yeah, of course.” He takes a forkful of the trifle, skirting around the beef.

“You missed a whole layer there. I want to make sure you eat all of it.” Robin smirks at him. Steve can’t tell if it’s because she’s hiding something or because she’s made about his earlier comments. Mind too filled with the anxiety over eating this.

Steve stares at the dessert before his eyes, taking a deep breath before giving Robin a pained smile. Then eating the trifle, trying his hardest not to gag. “It’s great, Rob,” he says, trying to swallow. “So good.”

“Alright, now the rest of you.”

Nancy takes a breath before just shoving a forkful in her mouth. Looking like she barely chews before swallowing it. Jonathan eats it like anything else, looking partially confused, but taking a moment to register what all the flavors are. Argyle just keeps eating it.

Eddie doesn’t eat it at all.

“Steve’s right, probably the best thing you’ve made,” Nancy acts better than Steve did. “You should send me the recipe.”

“Yeah, dude,” Argyle says, plate now half empty. “This is really good.”

Robin bursts out laughing, causing the rest of the table to look at her. “I can’t believe you actually ate it. Oh my God.”

“What?” Steve says, half choking on the water he was drinking.

“I didn’t actually think that beef belonged in the trifle. Do you all really think I’m that dumb?”

Jonathan looks up from his plate, eyes squinted. “What’s going on?”

Argyle leans over. “Not sure but Robin’s laughing a lot.”

Robin stands up, taking her plate and throwing her piece in the trash. “Hold on a second.”

Eddie stands after she leaves, taking his own plate and throwing out his untouched piece of the trifle. “I need you all to know, that I had no idea about this before today. And if it weren’t for Nancy making fun of the way I slice green beans-.”

“Because no one slices green beans that way,” Nancy exclaims.

“I do,” Eddie says dramatically. “Wayne has done it for me that way since I was a kid and wasn’t the biggest fan of green beans. If you want them cut a certain way, you should tell people.”

Nancy pauses. “That is a good point. I’m sorry for getting mad at you.”

“Thank you.” Eddie sees Jonathan and Argyle still eating the not real trifle. “Oh guys, you don’t have to eat that. It was a prank.”

“What?” Jonathan asks, still not sure what’s going on.

Argyle leans over again. “This was a prank, we don’t have to eat this anymore.”

“But it’s dessert.”

“Yeah, but not the real dessert.”

Jonathan is not putting the pieces together. “Where’s the real dessert then?”

“Don’t know, man. It isn’t here yet.”

Nancy stands, taking the two plates in front of them. “I’m just going to move these.”

“Jesus, dude, how much did you smoke?” Steve asks, finally throwing his food away.

Robin comes back into the apartment with another trifle in her hands, this one beef free. She places it in the center of the table, smiling maniacally. “This is the real trifle.”

The real trifle looks exactly like a picture of one would. Layers of lady fingers, jam, custard, and fruit. All perfectly even, with not a speck of beef in sight.

“That,” Nancy starts, still in shock, “looks really good.”

“I know, right.” Robin sits back down in her seat. “And it really wasn’t that hard either. The only thing that I had to make myself was the custard, which was actually pretty easy.”

“I knew that’s not how cookbooks worked,” Steve says annoyed, glaring at Eddie.

Eddie shrugs, “It was part of the bit.”

Argyle stares at the new trifle. “I think you’re missing a layer there, dude.”

“No, she added an extra layer before,” Eddie explains. “This one is the correct one.”

“If you say so.” Argyle leans back into the chair, still skeptical.

The real trifle is dished out and eaten pretty fast. Everyone apologizing to Robin for doubting her. She sits with a smug look on her face for the rest of the night.

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or taken off) @slowandsteddie, @annieofhearts, @cacdyke, @ubpd, @captain--low, @thespaceantwhowrites, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @lunaticparisianlady, @apomaro-mellow, @dolphincliffs, @dragonmama76, @maggiebug417, @stevesbipanic, @fearieshadow, @eightpackdiaz, @au79burger @bookworm0690 , @practicallybegging, @potato-of-the-lord, @autumncrocusandladybug, @estrellami-1

[witchofthesouls]

I have this image of Jack standing next to Arcee as June introduces her new boyfriend, the Titan (insert name here). Jack was already mortified when he learned his mom was a robo-fucker. This is a humongous mech who turns into a space ship and a city. A cybertronian sized city! The teen is floping down on the base couch having a full on nervous breakdown trying to push away all questions he realy doesn't want to think about, let alone get the answers too.

Meanwhile you have the Autobots marveling over June becomeing the first new cityspeaker since before the war. Also just the Quintessions being active is Alarming™️.

Who knows what our unhinged Titan friend is going to do when he learns human lives are so short especially if he's got a personality that's part Ratchet's and part Optimus.

Jack is having a breakdown for entirely different reasons because the Cybertronian gods did a coin toss to see if June will have Megatron and his child at Thanksgiving/Christmas holidays or if she will plan Megatron's demise. They'll either get along like dynamite in a mine, someone will end up dead, or both.

He has no idea how it will turn out, but when his mom has a Project. It's hers.

And I meant it's June that has a personality between Ratchet and Orion Pax. Like every good hospital worker with shitty administration, she's very much a person who has Malicious Compliance embedded in her bones with the addition of spite, energy drinks, and hidden contraband somewhere you wouldn't expect under a serene smile and a spine of steel.

If you are her people, then she'll mother-hen the shit out of you. She's intense and she knows that. June has gotten better over the years in that aspect, but should a friend or family need help, she's there.

20/10 will drive you to your surgery at 4 am as a designated driver, terrify your shitty apartment managers into compliance, or help plan a massive heist to take back all the money your cheating lover has stolen over the years for their side piece(s). She's built on solid alibis and documentation, documentation, and oh documentation.

She made a nest of giant pillows in the garage for Arcee, and even partitioned it out to give the femme the privacy to be rest in her root-mode when June needs to use the clicker. And Jack uncovered the plans to target Airachnid, and he has no idea how to feel about it because he can tell that his mom is heavily utilizing the medical commentary from Ratchet, the details of the 'bots' exploits that Miko manages to wheedle out, and his own experiences with 'bot-eating parasites...

The unhinged Titan has found a match, but it's not romantic. Oh no, June Darby now has a life-long project to spruce it up. And said Titan is not only over the moon that its new favorite person with similar levels of devotion, but has a lineage with a son that looks so much like her. It was once a major research facility that dealt with xenobiology. It's not above looking into ways to expand their lifespans. Anything for their favorite. Anything. Even if it must lure the resident scientists to its bosom and trap them to make use of its repository of accumulated data.

[axailslink]

Get Behind Me

Riri x FEM reader

Summary: you finally let Riri meet your folks.

You and Riri had decided it was about time she met your folks so here you both were in front of your house your nerves everywhere. Surprisingly you were more nervous than she was "remember if they make a gay joke just laugh along, don't get butt hurt if they call you ugly they're just joking, and don't engage any of their conversations about our sex life because it will become the main topic of dinner. Riri laughs nervously "why would our sex life be brought up?" You smile and shake your head "because they're fucking crazy like I said just don't let it get to you ignore it." You knock on the door gripping the car keys in your hands hoping you wouldn't have to leave early.

You're mom answers the door with a big smile on her face "oh come in it's cold don't stand there for too long" she welcomes you both inside and you smile and hug her "hey mama I've missed you" she hugs you and says the same "I know same here my love so this is Riri the "genius"?" Everyone's attention is immediately on her "okay so she ain't ugly I mean after that last tarantula looking girl you brought home we was worried" says your sister as she comes into the living room with drinks "you want a beer, soda, water, or a cooler?" This was test number one was she a drinker? "Can I have a cooler?" She looks at you for confirmation and you laugh and nod "where are the coolers at?" Your sister shows her the way and your mom turns her attention to you.

"So are you two having sex yet?" You blink and turn your attention to the kitchen watching as Riri and your sister chat it up "mom I'm grown...damn near" she nods "exactly so I have to ask are you two being s-" Riri yells your name above the music playing in the background "baby! Come do this dance with us" you smile politely at your mom "bye mom" when you go into he kitchen Riri grabs your hand and pulls you into a TikTok you have no idea what to do "I don't know how to do this shit" she laughs and sways you side to side before reaching up and clapping she does it there more times and you end the video. You both are interrupted by the pregnant cousin finding her way into the kitchen "oh goodness gracious get ready for some odd questions" you whisper into Riri's ear. "I just have to ask is it different with a girl?" Your sister takes that as her moment to leave "yes?" Riri answers unsure you shake your head and take her wine cooler taking a sip before kissing her your cousin stares momentarily "so how do y'all have sex exactly is there like a-" you interrupt and grab Riri's hand "oh baby that's my song!" You scream as you lead her to the living room saved once again this time by the Red Nose playing on the speaker.

Your mom pauses the music "okay twenty dollars to whoever can shake the most ass and twenty to whoever can catch it!" In this house you were used to challenges like this this was how you grew up there were more than just family at your house on Thanksgiving anyone who knew y'all was considered family. So you had friends, exes, and cousins even some of the distant ones and neighbors.

Your plan was to keep Riri away from the exes you told your mom you'd be bringing your girlfriend you assumed she'd tell them they couldn't come but as she would say "that's so mean I can't tell them not to come plus I cooked all this food!" You also weren't going to spoil your fun because some past relationships didn't end well. You look at your sister, her boyfriend, your mama and her husband and you smile "just so y'all know we're getting that money it's hard to come by money for a college student."

You grab Riri and unbutton your pants she glances down "what are you doing?" She asks grabbing your belt keeping it around your waist you laugh and grab her hands "my pants are too tight to be tryna twerk don't worry I got boy shorts on" she sucks her teeth "that's still yo drawers" you turn around and give her a quick peck "suck it up" you pull the pants off and your mama hollers as your sister changes into some shorts "fuck yeahhhhh!" You smile at her she shakes her head and your mom continues the music. "Get behind me" Riri is in disbelief just a moment ago everything was normal but now it was just about to turn into a whole club if she wanted someone to grind on her belt y'all could have went to a party close to campus she wasn't expecting this... But a good twenty dollars could do her some good Lord look what the money make a bitch do.

Your sister's boyfriend looks just as confused and uncomfortable as Riri and it was funny to watch that would help you win this twenty dollars because you know when Riri got comfortable oh she was going to act a fool and really be the life of the party.

And she gon' shake it, like a red nose

Li-li-li-li-like a red nose

You feel her hands grab your hips and guide them against her jeans "oh shit okay! Y'all doing a little something but not enough!" You place both hands on the wall and twerk to the beat Riri is behind you focused as fuck trying to keep up.

That booty talkin' to me, what that shit say?

Shake it for the dojo I'm the sensei

Once you wobble on my song, on replay

Almost got 'er at house, up off Kingsway

"oh Riri you looking sad!" your mom and you laugh because Riri believes she is trying her best "twenty dollars you want it don't you?" Riri sucks her teeth and nods "then act like it" after a while Riri really gets into it not worrying about what anybody else is doing just you and her she's matching your pace and anticipating when you'll slow down.

All this money on me

Come and take it from a G

All she tryna do is get naked (Naked)

And she gon' shake it, like a red nose

You throwing and Riri is catching it like she just was made to do this hand on your ass guiding it to the beat she's so full in it she's completely forgot this was for money and that she was in front of your folks and she did not give one damn. Your mom stops the music "drumroll please!" Everyone pats their thighs Riri just looks back confused as hell. Your mom tucks a lil twenty in the side of your boy shorts and you do a little happy dance "aye aye" Riri laughs and shakes her head she also gives a twenty to Riri causing her to do a little happy dance too before planting a kiss on your lips. You two act way too much alike. After dinner everyone helps put the food up and clean up before finally departing and saying good bye's you come eye to eye with your mom.

"You said she was shy" you laugh and nod "she is until she gets comfortable" your mom looks her up and down and smiles "okay miss Riri Williams don't act all shy next time!" Riri laughs and covers her face "it was nice meeting you all" Riri goes in for a handshake and is pulled in for a hug "at least we know "genius" doesn't mean nerd" comments your mom's husband causing you to laugh you hug them both and kiss your mama on the cheek.

"I love y'all please take care and tell lil sis go suck it because for once I win!" You yell loud enough for her to hear "fuck you!" She yells back and your mama shakes her head "watch your motherfucking mouth don't be sorry do better!" You laugh and grab your keys "we gotta go."

Riri shakes her head "uh uh miss thing put them damn pants on" she snatches the twenty out of your boy shorts and puts it in her pocket as you pull on your pants and laugh grabbing your belt. "Keep her in check" yells your mom as you both approach the car Riri laughs and nods "yes ma'am!" You unlock the car door as your mom shuts the house door.

"You made it seem like your folks was bad I enjoyed myself" you smile "good because that might be th-" you're interrupted by an agitating voice causing you to groan "ayo Y/n" you turn around and glance at your ex then at Riri "yeah?" She looks Riri up and down in a kind of disappointed way "your new bitch ain't as cute as I thought she'd be... So you leave the hood studs alone and get with a smart bitch who what? Probably wear dresses just so you know sis she get a new bitch every two months she'll get tired of you." You glance at Riri who is the unbothered queen she is "it's been four months sis you do a whole bunch of talking to be a bitch she got rid of." You start the car and close the door "go be bitter and made somewhere else we don't fucking care" you say flipping her off you roll the window up and speed off "where the fuck my twenty dollars at?" Riri laughs while you're being dead serious "I don't throw this ass for free give me money mane!" You say with your palm out.

A/n: the readers family is based on mine because well I don't really know anything else. More like my aunty who used to have twerk battles when she was drunk....I have a very interesting family so let's just say this is a shit post and baby it's ghetto as hell. (This is how I grew up so enjoy.)

[carlos-in-glasses]

Work in Progress Wednesday

(Twork in Trogress Thursday)

I've come to this so late, I'm sorry! Thank you for the tag @heartstringsduet @reyesstrand @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @mikibwrites @theghostofashton @lemonlyman-dotcom 🥰

Please have some Flashback Fic! I'm not tagging anyone due to my lateness - but if you want to share a Twork in Trogress Thursday please take this as an open tag and tag me back!

Thursday November 24, 2011

Carlos wakes at 8:46 a.m. on Thanksgiving morning – late by his standards, but he’d struggled to fall asleep until the early hours because of a nervous stomach and chest-crushing dread and a headache behind the eyes. The feeling he wakes with isn’t too dissimilar to the early days of flu, and for a moment he wonders if that’s what it is, coincidentally, and his proposing to Iris over milkshakes and Coke floats at the diner yesterday evening isn’t actually the source of feeling like he’s been hit by a truck.

He lumbers into the kitchen, legs like lead, still in his pajamas and dressing gown. Only his parents are around; sisters arriving later. He’ll tell them separately anyway – separately from each other. He thinks they’ll freak. They’ll have strong and probably opposite opinions and argue with each other about what Carlos should do. He doesn’t want to hear it.

Andrea is at the sink, poised to soak a pan she’s used for oatmeal. Gabriel sits on a stool at the island, reading the Austin American-Statesman and drinking black coffee. He sees Carlos first.

“Son,” he says with a wince, “You look terrible.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Carlitos, you’re not feeling so good?” Andrea asks, putting the words into his mouth.

“I think I’m coming down with something.”

“Ah, on Thanksgiving – you poor thing. Why is that always the way?” Andrea tuts with sympathy. Last Thanksgiving, she had a nasty bout of tonsillitis and could only tolerate chicken soup while on the couch with a lap tray; the rest of the family feasted at Tía Elena’s. “You better stay in bed today.”

“I don’t think I need to do that. I want to help you.” Carlos looks around the kitchen. They’re hosting this year and relatives will be descending upon the house in just a few hours.

“Maybe you just need a big cup of coffee,” Gabriel says, and gets up to fetch him one.

"No thanks, Dad.” The idea of coffee, which he’d ordinarily love first thing, makes him queasy. “Actually, I've got some news.” His voice wobbles through the words so harshly that Andrea drops the oatmeal pan into the sink from a height, spraying her sweater with suds.

"Carlitos." She puts her hand on her heart. "What is it?"

"No, Mamá. It's good news." Carlos contorts a smile. "Yesterday, I asked Iris to marry me."

Gabriel doesn't drop the large red coffee mug he’s picked from the cupboard, but rather sets it down onto the counter so slowly that the motion seems to warp time, and father and son stare at each other for an eternity that is also five seconds. "Carlos–"

"Really?" Andrea interjects, in the same tone she uses for when he’s left a wet towel on the bathroom floor.

"But you're-" Gabriel steps towards him. "You're–"

Carlos stares at him and backs away. He can't believe it. His father is about to say the word. Gay.

 "You're only just eighteen, son."

"Oh." Carlos lets out a deep breath. He isn't sure if what he feels is relief, or the opposite. "You were nineteen when you got engaged," he answers.

Gabriel walks a few paces to Andrea and puts his arm around her. They stare at him like he's a weird painting that they don’t get.

[ssvperboy]

Ultimate Ship Meme Christmas Edition - abi/mattheo

ULTIMATE SHIP MEME CHRISTMAS EDITION || ACCEPTING

Which one of them:

Spikes the eggnog? Mattheo, but probably because Hero told him to lmaoooo 😅

Hangs the stockings? Abi! Stockings are not at all common for Mattheo, but she tells him all about 'em and what they're for 🥹

Leaves cookies and milk out to keep up with the Santa tradition? I want to say Abi again, but this is something they might do together!

“Accidentally” throws away the fruitcake: Also Abi! Mattheo would feel super bad and eat the whole thing, ngl 😪

Goes overboard on the whipped cream? Mattheo! He knows it's not great for you, but he can't help it. Probably even puts too much for Abi, too 😂

Is the inevitable Christmas Grinch? Mattheo, but only because Christmas away from home is super hard 🥺

Wakes up first on Christmas? Abi! I think that's something she's done many times over--she'd wake him up, though, to get him in on all the Christmas morning traditions.

Rolls their eyes as the same cheesy carol plays in the stores for the millionth time? Mattheo. Not because he hates it, but because he things it's over played lol

Starts playing Christmas music the day after Halloween? Abi! Mattheo's not the biggest fan of Christmas music, but he would be into it for her 🥰

Decorates the Christmas tree? Both of them!! He loves this part of Christmas and they BOTH insist on doing it together!

Who wears the ugly Christmas sweaters Abi. Mattheo doesn't really understand why people do it, but he'd wear one if she got him one 🥹

Picks out the holiday movies and who makes the hot cocoa: Mattheo makes the hot cocoa and Abi picks the movies because I definitely believe they're each only good at doing it like that and not the opposite 😂😂

Starts the snowball fight: Mattheo. He really enjoys the snow and snowball fights lmao

Drags the other under the mistletoe: I would say Abi! Mattheo would be super nervous, also he doesn't get the mistletoe thing lmaooooo

Decorates the house: They both do, together because they're cuties!

Cooks Christmas dinner: I think this is something they work out together. Each of them works on certain parts of dinner, but they want to do it together.

Invites the other to sing a Christmas duet: Abi, 300%!

Has any holiday traditions: I think they both do and they would share them with each other. (we know they would! 🎄)

Who would start a food fight during baking: Abi, but Mattheo wouldn't be mad (he can't be lol)

Would get drunk off of eggnog: Mattheo. My dude has a very low alcohol tolerance, ask Hero and Tomás.

Who starts putting up decorations in October? I think Mattheo, because there's no thanksgiving where he's from so he forgets about it lmaoooo

Buys the advent calendars? Abi! She teaches Mattheo how they should be opened 🥹🥰

Places mistletoes all around the house? Abi, because y'know, Mattheo doesn't know what they're for 😂

Wraps the presents for other people? Both of them. They both give me "divine present wrapper" vibes!

Puts the final star/angel on the top of the Christmas tree? Abi. I think it's a tradition of hers and he's just happy to be a part of it 🥹🥰

Is the one that hates eggnog? Yeah, Mattheo. He learns that after drinking it the first time lmaooooo

Is the one that bakes Christmas cookies for guests? Like cooking dinner, this would be something they'd work on together!

Sends out the Christmas cards? I think Abi would--I feel like that's something she does for her friends. Mattheo might as well, if he realizes it's something he's into!

Knows all the words to Twelve Days of Christmas? Abiiiii!!!

Is the better snowman builder? Abi, also. Mattheo loves snow but sucks at building snowmen. Abi is the superior snowman builder, 100%!

Is the one that wakes the other on Christmas morning by playing Christmas songs really loudly? Abi, I have no doubt in that lol

[spinningintheshadows]

wanna do it anyway? || rafe cameron

After breaking up with her boyfriend, the photographer that Piper had arranged and paid for a boudoir shoot asks if she wants to do it anyway.

fanon photographer!rafe x plus size!oc, *SMUT; oral (f&m recieving), fingering, semi protected sex (oc is on bc)*

Rafe bit his lip as he looked at his schedule for the day. He was up early, seven o’clock, drinking his coffee as he glanced at the schedule book. He had two appointments booked today, the McJones family photos at 10:00, and then scribbled messily underneath it at 1:00 was Piper Harris - Boudoir. That was the one he was most concerned about. Not that he’d never done boudoir shoots before, but because it was Piper, his high school crush.

Piper Harris also didn’t fit the norm of his normal boudoir shoots, where the girls had been stick thin, almost to where you could see their bones sticking out of their bodies. Piper Harris had always been on the heavier side, and if bothered her, he’d only ever seen it once. It was the day they became friends, when he practically beat the shit out of Kelce for calling her fat in math class. Yeah, he’d gotten suspended and grounded for two weeks but it was worth it.

Truth be told, Rafe didn’t know why he was nervous, but the uneasy feeling hadn’t left his stomach since she approached him outside of the Wreck two weeks ago.

“Rafe Cameron! The man I’ve been looking for.” A voice said, making him turn around and meet eyes with her, Piper.

“Hey, Pip, didn’t know you were still around the outer banks.” He said with a smile.

“Could say the same about you, Rafe. Hey I have a question” she suddenly sounded nervous. He raised an eyebrow at her as he pulled the camera out of its bag in preparation of his next shoot. “Have you ever done a boudoir shoot?” He let out a breathy laugh, looking at her again.

“Yeah.” He told her. “Several, why?”

“Well, uh, me and Travis will be together four years next month and I was kind of thinking about doing one for him.” She said. He fought the urge to roll his eyes at the name of her mediocre boyfriend. “And I was wondering if you’d be willing to do it? I’ll pay you of course, whatever you charge.”

“You want me to….do a boudoir shoot…of you?” He asked. “Okay. Uh, your number still the same? If so I’ll look over my schedule when I get home and text you with a time and price.”

“Okay. Thank you so much, Rafe!” She said.

“Hey wait, before you go.” He told her. “Stand there, the sunset looks really nice behind you.” He snapped a couple photos, thanking her.

When he’d gotten back to his apartment that night he’d edited the photos and sent them to her, telling her to do with them what she wanted. Plus a time, date and price for their shoot. His phone buzzing brought him out of his thoughts. Glancing down at the text, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion

Is it too late to cancel?

What? Your anniversary is in two weeks

That’s why I wanna cancel. He cheated, and we broke up.

Wanna do them anyway?

Rafe…

Piper, you’ve already paid way too much money to not do them. Every beautiful girl deserves to have basically tasteful nudes taken professionally at least once in their life.

Are you sure?

I cleared my whole afternoon for you, Harris

Okay. I’ll see you at 1 then.

All day Rafe had his mind on Piper. He got through the McJones shoot with only a mild headache. He hated shooting that family. Their eight year old twins, James and Isla, were terribly behaved, snotty kids and he was always thankful for his step mother, who made sure that he and his sisters were always down to earth despite their status after he was done. In his brain, he made a note to call her that evening to check in on her. It was a Friday after all, he normally called Friday because his dad was always at some sort of business dinner. He didn’t get along with his father, but tolerated him at Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas for his sisters sake.

When he unlocked the studio at noon, he could feel the nerves churning in his stomach. He didn’t know why he was nervous. Did he, after not seeing Piper Harris for nearly four years, still have a high school crush on her? Shaking his head, he prepared the studio for the shoot, glancing at his watch when he was done to see it was 1:05. He finally checked his phone to see a text from Piper saying she was running late and would be there by 1:10. At exactly 1:07, she was huffing her way through the door. Despite the windows being blacked out for privacy, the room was well lit and he could see the blush forming on her cheeks.

“I’m so sorry. I couldn’t find the outfits I had bought and well, now I’m late.” She said. He held back a laugh, looking at her with a smile.

“Piper, it’s okay. Promise. So, you brought outfits.” He said.

“Uh, mostly lingerie. Hey quick question, the photos, what do you do with them?” She asked. He laughed that time, shaking his head.

“Once they’re edited, all of them go on a flash drive and are given to the client. I've never kept a single boudoir photo I’ve taken.” He told her. “You’re not my regular boudoir client though.”

“Yeah, really hard to find someone to do them with plus size women, Rafe. I appreciate it.” She told him.

“I meant that you’re prettier than most of my regular clients, Piper.” He deadpanned. “If you want to go change, there’s a changing room in the back.”

The pair spent the better part of the next two hours with him posing her and snapping photos, sharing jokes and laughs along the way. Time seemed to fly way too fast for his liking.

“Hey Rafe?” She questioned from where she was perched on the sofa he’d brought into the studio months ago, the emerald green of the lingerie set she was wearing catching the light perfectly. He glanced up from his camera to raise an eyebrow at her. “Would you be willing to take some, uh, more risqué photos of me?”

“Meaning?” He questioned. He knew what she meant, but there was a ball of nerves in his throat and he wanted to confirm he wasn’t hearing things.

“Uh, nudes.” She said. “I mean, you said you don’t keep them, and I’m doing these for me so why not?”

“I uh, I’ve never done a nude shoot before.” He told her. “But if you’re comfortable with it, I will.”

With a smile, she reached back to unclasp the bra she was wearing and let it drop to the floor. Rafe willed everything in him to let him go hard at the sight. He suddenly felt like a fifteen year old seeing his first set of boobs again. He knew it was because of the person, not the situation. If any other woman he was shooting would’ve done that, he wouldn’t have had the same reaction.

He swallowed harshly, sticking his tongue out to wet his chapped lips, but said nothing as he kept snapping photos of his high school crush. The room was quiet except for the record he’d placed on the turntable, and it stayed that way for quite a while. Until she slid her hand into her panties and threw her head back. All resolve was gone, he was now painfully hard as he took her picture.

“Damn, Travis is an idiot for cheating on you.” He was sure he said it under his breath, but when her head snapped up to look at him he realized he hadn’t.

“What did you say?” She asked. He set his camera down, walking over to kneel in front of her.

“I said, Travis is an idiot for cheating on you. Who would willingly sleep with someone else when you are as gorgeous as you are?” He said. “God, you have me feeling like a fifteen year old again.” She stared at him, their eyes making contact as his hand rested on her thigh.

“Rafe.” she whispered. “Touch me. I need you to touch me. Please.” He bit his lip, moving to take the panties off of her.

“If you feel uncomfortable at any point, tell me okay?” He said. She nodded as he cupped her pussy, his thumb making contact with her clit which just made her buck her hips up into his hand. Slowly, he pressed two fingers into her, curling them against her walls and relishing in the noises coming out of her mouth. “You’ve got such a pretty pussy, Pip. Can’t wait for you to cum all over my hand, princess.”

Rafe continued to revel in the noises he was causing her to make, feeling her clench around his fingers as he curled them inside of her to hit that sweet spot. He knew she was close just from her breathing and the pace of which she clenched down on his fingers, continuing to buck her hips up to meet his hand.

“Fuck, Pip. I need to taste you, is that okay?”

“Yeah, Rafe. Do it, make me cum on your tongue.”

He wasted no time wrapping his lips around her clit, working quickly and completely burying his face in her pussy to work her to her orgasm. It didn’t take long before she was tangling her fingers through his hair and tugging on it as she came loudly. He stayed put, working her through the aftershocks until she was gently pushing his head away.

His cock was straining against his light wash skinny jeans, making him palm himself through them to give himself some sort of relief. Piper looked at him through hooded eyes, moving so she could pop the button on his jeans and unzip them. She pushed his jeans down, his boxers following soon after as she licked her dry lips and wrapped her hand around the base of his cock.

“Guess the rumors in high school we’re true, Rafe” she said. “You are packing.” He let out a hiss as she started pumping her hand slowly on him.

“Y-yeah.” He breathed out. “But since we’re in this compromising position, I should tell you that I thought about you with all those other girls.”

“Yeah?” She hummed. “Why didn’t you ever try to get with me.”

“I did.” He stuttered. “But you were already dating Travis by the time I got my head out of my ass.” She hummed again as she moved so that she was on her knees in front of him.

“Well since we’re confessing things, it took me months to stop imagining Travis was you during sex.” She told him. “I always wanted to see if the rumors were true.” With that, she took the head of his cock into her mouth, swirling her tongue around him.

Rafe thought his knees were going to buckle at the sensation. Sure, he’d gotten blowjobs before but they were nothing compared to the one he was receiving now. Piper pumped what she couldn’t get in mouth with her hand, now reveling in the noises she was causing him to make. He could feel the muscles of his abdomen clenching, a clear sign he was close. Gently he pushed her away from him.

“As much as I’m sure you would love for me to cum down your throat, I’m not gonna last, Pip” he explained. “And if it’s okay with you, I’d really like to cum with you.”

“Please” her voice was practically a whine. “Fuck me, Rafe.”

“How do you want it?” He questioned. This was for her, in the end, he was just getting an orgasm with the girl he’d been crushing on for years from it.

“Wanna ride you, Rafe. Can I do that?” She asked. He helped her stand up, then positioned himself on the couch before looking at her with a cocky grin.

“Be my guest, Pip.” He said. “I don’t have a condom though, so I’m gonna have to pull out.”

“No you won’t.” She deadpanned as she moved to straddle him. “Got an IUD, Rafey. Travis didn’t want kids so I picked the most effective way to prevent that.”

Before Rafe could respond, she was sinking herself down on him. Feeling her around him for the first time, Rafe was sure he’d just died and was in his own personal heaven. He couldn’t control the movements of his own hips as they rutted up into her to meet her own movements.

Rafe was glad no one could see into the building and that the door was locked, glad that the scene he was looking at was just for him. Piper's head was thrown back, both of her hands on either side of his head, placing her breasts practically in his face. Without thinking he leaned up just enough to capture one of her nipples in his mouth teasingly.

He could feel she was close, her clenching around him every few moments, moans getting louder and more frequent as his hand reached down to allow his thumb to rub her clit in figure eight movements.

“Gonna cum, Rafe.” She mumbled. “So close.”

“Me too, Pip.” He confirmed. “Feel so good around me. Cum for me, baby.”

It didn’t take much longer before she clenched down on him harder than before, a loud moan of his name coming from the deepest part of her throat. The feeling had his hips stuttering and he also exploded in pleasure, emptying inside of her with several hot ropes of cum. She collapsed on top of him, letting out a laugh of disbelief as he turned her head to look at him.

“I stand by what I said earlier, Travis is a dick for cheating on you, he doesn’t know what he’s missing.” He murmured. “Let me get you cleaned up.”

Gently, he moved her so he could slip out of her before settling her on the couch while we walked towards the bathroom to get a rag and run it under warm water. Once she was cleaned up and they were dressed again, he collapsed onto the couch beside her with a heavy sigh.

“Rafe?” She questioned.

“Hmm?” His voice was basically a hum.

“I want you to keep the pictures.” She told him. “I mean, they were for me, but I don’t want this to be a one time thing, so keep them for you.”

“Okay.” He agreed. “I’ll keep the pictures. On one condition.”

“What’s that?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“You let me take you to dinner.”

Taglist: @wannabestarkeysgirl @maybankforlife @k-k0129 @lindzaylove @teelagurl558 @jjmaybankspermbank

[maybe-theres-hope]

Tarlos ficlet - “You Like My Costume?”

For all y'all firefighter!Carlos babes :) 

@howtosingit @pragmaticoptimist34 and anyone else who likes this kind of thing <3

1.6k | ao3

TK is actually kind of bummed to be working on Halloween.

Sure, it’s not like he has to work Thanksgiving this year--he somehow finagled the day off and he has yet to tell Carlos that he will be making a surprise visit to the ranch for dinner and he absolutely can’t wait to see his fiancé’s face when he walks in--but he was kind of looking forward to doing the cutesy couple’s costume thing. He’s a sucker for that kind of thing, and he’s bummed, okay?

They’re out on a call that’s frankly more of a time waster than anything else since the fourteen year old in question wasn’t actually suffering from alcohol poisoning but rather he’d yarfed because his friends had dared him to drink a teaspoon of dish soap--honestly, kids these days--so things are looking pretty mellow so far for the evening. He half expected full-moon level type calls tonight but in all honesty he’s been kind of bored. Which really makes it doubly crappy to be working. There’s not even any excitement. 

“At least we’re off at 11, you’ll get to see the last of the trick-or-treaters,” Nancy says with a smirk. 

“Who trick-or-treats at 11 p.m.?” he asks. “By then it’ll just be the dumb teenagers TP-ing old people’s houses and that’s if anyone actually does that anymore.”

“What, you’re too old and married for those kinds of shenanigans?”

“Screw you, I’m not old, and I’m not married yet,” he quips back at her.

“Mmmhmm. Coulda fooled me.” She’s smiling her mischievous smile, the one she gets when she’s contemplating how to jump-scare him in the bunk room in the middle of the night because one time he yelped in such a high-pitch that she nearly peed herself laughing, and she’s been trying to recreate it ever since. 

“Hey, the thrill is not gone, I can promise you that.” Now it’s his turn to smirk back at her.

“Ugh ugh, okay, don’t wanna hear about it.” She waves her hands in front of her face like she’s shooing away fog. “And TK? I mean that. Whatever it is you’re going to be doing tonight, I never wanna hear about it, okay? Just...please. Keep it in the bedroom. Everyone’s going to be making enough assumptions as it is.”

He turns to look at her from the driver’s seat, puzzled. “What do you mean, tonight? What’s so special about tonight and why are people making assumptions? Carlos had to work until half an hour ago anyway, so we’re probably both going to just pass out when I get home. Also, what do you mean ‘assumptions’?”

She just smiles at him again. “Just drive, Strand.”

When he pulls the rig into the bay at ten minutes past eleven, TK just wants to shower and collapse. Boredom held out for only so long before giving into three separate calls where the patient coded on the backboard. He’s tired, he’s hungry, and he feels like he will never be clean of all the sweat. His fingers are aching and his shoulders are sore. He’s never been more ready to just slip into their sheets at home and pass into blissful oblivion. He can’t even make himself look up from the floor as he walks toward the locker room. 

“Hey TK! Why don’t you say hi to the new probie?” Mateo’s voice is nearly a giggle, and it actually causes TK to lift his head. With great effort. 

“Huh? We have a new probie? Whose first shift is on Halloween? Who did he piss off to manage that?” TK asks, following Mateo through the kitchen.

It’s Paul who answers from where he’s leaning against the archway leading back into the bay where the ladder truck is parked. “No one. You might be a little peeved that he took your old turnout gear, but I really, really doubt that.”

“What?” Now TK is just thoroughly confused. 

“Yeah,” Marjan says when he rounds the corner, “and it doesn’t fit him all that well, but I also highly doubt you’ll be upset about that either.” She’s practically glowing with mirth. 

“Okaaaay...what’s with everyone? Is this some kind of Halloween prank? Is someone going to jump out and scare me?”

“Trust me, it won’t scare you. Just...don’t scar the rest of us once you see it. Behave yourself until you get home,” is Nancy’s last line before she turns and practically runs up the stairs. 

TK darts his gaze around to the rest of them, brow furrowing. 

“Just go, man. We’ve been keeping this from you for like a week and we want to see the fruits of our labor,” Mateo says, shoving at TK’s shoulder so that he walks toward the ladder truck.

Still confused and slightly nervous, TK rounds the back of the truck and looks around to see what it is they’ve conjured up to prank him with. He scans the floor, wondering if someone in a scary mask will slide out from under the truck. He moves around to the other side while still in the team’s line of sight, looking back at them for some kind of indication that he’s on the right track. Marjan points subtly up and he follows with his gaze. 

His mouth goes instantly dry and his breath stops. He might gasp, but he can’t be sure.

“Hi babe. Happy Halloween,” Carlos croons in a low voice, though he’s blushing slightly which removes some of the effect. 

TK can only stare. His old turnout gear, indeed.

His fiancé his perched on top of the truck, casually leaned against the ladder and looking down on him. His hips, clad in baggy pants only held up by bright suspenders are slipped forward just so, inviting TK’s eyes to travel up the long line of his glorious body. The AFD t-shirt is straining at the seams, defining every muscle in his abs and pecs, the suspenders caressing against the hard planes of his chest, peeking out from the turnout coat hanging open. 

When Carlos notices where TK’s eyes have gone, he lifts himself out of his ridiculously sexy lean to stand and shrug out of the coat. How on earth anyone can make the removing of standard-issue PPE look so goddamned alluring, TK will never know. The movement causes Carlos’ shoulders to flex, and the cotton of the t-shirt nearly gives out. TK catches a peek of his own name in bright orange lettering across the back of the coat before it’s casually flipped over one massive shoulder, clinging to one finger. 

“I...holy shit,” is all he can say. He has been robbed of his entire vocabulary. He can hear his team snickering at him from the kitchen, but he pays them no mind. The view from here is much better. 

Carlos blushes a bit more, and tosses the coat down to TK, who catches it dazedly. Then, he watches as his absolutely gorgeous fiancé nimbly climbs down the footholds on the side of the truck like he’s done it a thousand times before, and between drooling and sucking in subtle breaths of air TK’s eyes are drawn directly to his ass. It’s a marvelous sight. 

Dropping down lightly onto the floor with a tiny bounce in his step, Carlos turns to face TK in all his glory. TK’s gaze once again runs the gambit from his shoulders down his torso, right down to his own spare pair of boots. 

Carlos saunters closer, knowing full well what he’s doing and loving every minute of it, the bastard. “So, babe,” he says in that same low voice, closer this time. “You like my costume?”

TK still can’t really form words. He might stutter a bit, but he’ll deny it later.

Carlos leans in close--presumably to deter their audience from hearing his next words, which are whispered directly into TK’s ear. 

“I chose to dress up as your secret fantasy,” he says, his lips caressing the shell of TK’s ear. He shivers, though from the words or the touch or the outfit or all of the above, TK can’t say. The next words he hears don’t help matters much.

“What do you say I rescue you from work? Take you home and give you some mouth-to-mouth?” 

TK can hear the desire behind the words, but he can also hear the tiniest giggle at the blatant dirty talk that Carlos actually doesn’t do that much of, and it makes his heart melt. This man is everything.

When he regains some coherency, TK decides to give back as much as he’s gotten. He runs his hands down Carlos’ torso, nearly dropping one suspender completely off his shoulder with his vigor in grabbing a handful of pectoral muscle. 

He leans back in and says into Carlos’ ear, “Well, have you still got your uniform in your car? It might be a bit big on me, but I think I’d look good in nothing but your utility belt. Should I handcuff you to the bed, firefighter Reyes?”

He leans back just enough to catch Carlos scrunching his eyes shut and biting his lip--desire written into every line of his face--and suddenly remembers their audience. This is not a free show, no matter how much help they provided Carlos in surprising TK with this. “Take me home, now.”

“You got it, babe.” With that, Carlos bends down, grabs TK by the waist, and lifts him like he weighs nothing. TK is thrown over his shoulder in a full fireman’s carry to the tune of his team, his friends, whistling and catcalling as he’s carried off to Carlos’ car. 

Yeah, this is a good Halloween. Maybe the best one yet. 

[dontworrysunflower]

Merry Fucking Christmas | h.s.

a/n: i’m baaaaccckk!! lol idk it took me a while to finish this and i was gonna have it finished before christmas but then i was exposed to covid so i was little paranoid but anyway (i’m good tho). merry christmas and happy holidays!! i know this years been hard but hopefully we can make it a little better :)

warnings: drinking, angst?? idk not proof read word vomit, some language too

word count: 3.1k

also thank you @watchmegetobsessed !!

feedback/reblogs appreciated

You knew the holidays this year were going to be difficult. You procrastinated on getting gifts for your friends. Your work seemed to pile up on your desk since you got your promotion. You weren’t able to fly back home, and you still had some thanksgiving weight you weren’t able to put off.

Oh yeah, another thing. Harry was still with his girlfriend.

You met Katy, Harry’s girlfriend, at his birthday party in February. She was the epitome of ‘his type’. She had bleach blonde extensions and the bluest eyes you've ever seen. She was tall and really, really loud.

Since then, she’s all he ever talked about when they weren’t together, but when they were in the same room, boy did you want to gag.

You thought they would last maybe three to four months, you were so sure, you bet with some of your other friends.

Needless to say, you lost quite a lot of money.

You tried not to let it bother you, really. But it was so hard when Harry is the literal sweetest person you’ve met, had the voice of an angel and wasn’t bad to look at.

You felt you were the closest with Harry when you moved to London. He made you feel welcome in your little friends group. There was a little flirting game between the two of you that you didn’t even notice until one of your friends brought it up.

“Oh c’mon, it’s so obvious you like each other.” Margot slurred, her second glass clinking against the table as she finished every drop.

“What?” You asked, baffled. Your eyes were wide and your face started to heat up. “He doesn’t like me.”

“But you like him?” Ava, a friend from work, smirked at you.

You stumbled on your words, wiping at the condensation on your glass.

But since he was in a relationship now, you felt almost icky around him. You felt so uncomfortable around him that you did whatever you could to not be in the same room as him.

You were ready for the holidays, you thought. It would give you a break from constantly thinking about him being so busy with your family back in your hometown.

You should’ve known London weather wouldn’t be in your favor. It rained constantly everyday and the fog seemed to get closer to the ground every other day. The weather was getting so bad that you started working from home, the roads too wet and icy to drive on. So honestly, you weren’t that surprised when airports closed due to the weather, meaning you had to spend Christmas in London.

With Harry.

The day after flights were cancelled Harry texted on your group chat saying he could host a dinner and party on Christmas eve and everyone was invited. You watched texts from your other friends flood in, some excited vulgar words were thrown in there as well.

You never responded. Not only because you still felt weird around him for having this massive crush on him, but because things haven’t really been the same between you two.

You can’t remember the last time you had a full on conversation with him before you had to excuse yourself because you couldn’t take the ache in your chest when you were around him, and he wasn’t yours. You can’t remember the last joke he ever told you or when you went out for lunch or drinks when it was only the two of you. You were sure he noticed how weird you were around him, but never said anything, so you let it be.

As the day neared, your mind would change on whether you were going or not. You didn’t want to seem bitchy and cold on what was supposed to be the happiest and cheerful day of the year, so you thought you would go. You thought of every reason you shouldn’t go that had nothing to do with Harry, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to handle seeing him cozy up with his very serious girlfriend.

But there would be alcohol, so you decided to go.

•••

Hey (y/n)! Think you come over early and help me set up for tomorrow? H xx

You stared at the text for what seemed like hours, but it was only a couple seconds. Before you could even register what your fingers were doing, you tied up a quick message and hit send before you could stop yourself.

Of course!! See you tomorrow!

You hated yourself for the rest of the day. Why would you do this to yourself? You could barely be in the same room as him and some other friends. How would you survive being alone before the party started?

•••

The butterflies in your stomach have not been able to settle since you woke up Christmas Eve morning. Just the thought of seeing him made you nervous. You almost didn’t get out of bed that morning. But you pat yourself on the back when your feet finally hit your wooden flooring and moved on with your day.

Your shoulders hung low beside you as the time to meet up grew closer, the sun lowering behind you, Christmas lights and inflatable decorations coming to life as stars dotted the sky.

You sighed heavily as you styled your hair and naturally did your makeup.

You slid on your silky, tight dress and grabbed your coat and quickly made your way to your car to get away from the bitter cold.

You rubbed your hands together, blowing into them to regain some feeling before turning the key into the ignition, quickly turning the heater on, Mariah Carey blasting through your speakers.

You were about to pull out of your driveway, mumbling along to Mariah’s notes when you realized you forgot the gifts.

•••

Your shoulders were hunched up as you knocked on the white door, your foot tapping against the brick stairs of Harry’s house as you waited for him to open it in the freezing cold.

You could hear shuffling from the other side and watched the doorknob wiggle, Harry having trouble with his lock since June and still hasn’t had anyone fix it.

The door swings open to reveal Harry in his glory, brown corduroy pants and an ugly Christmas sweater under an apron that’s tied around his slender waist that you’ve always been jealous of.

“Hey, sorry, come on in.” Harry said to you before moving out of the way, a bowl nestled between his side and his arm.

You mumbled a quiet thank you before stepping in, your cheeks reddening at the warmth enveloping you as you walked through the foyer of his home.

“Mm,” he hummed as he remembered something. He puts down the bowl he had on his white kitchen counter and waddles over to you, a small curve on his lips as he wrapped his arms around you. “Merry Christmas, love.”

You hate that nickname. But you don’t. You hate the butterflies that flutter in your stomach when he says that word. You hate the goosebumps it causes you and the hairs sticking up on your neck when he says the one thing you feel too harshly for him. And you hate how much he doesn’t feel it back.

“Merry Christmas, Harry.” You mumbled into his neck, his cologne flooding your senses bringing you comfort.

He doesn’t let go of you yet, but he backs up just a little to see you. “You look gorgeous, (y/n).”

The air gets stuck in your lungs and you almost forgot how to formulate words. You hoped Harry thought the pigment on your cheeks would be from the cold because it totally was. Before it was obvious how his words affected you, you stuttered out a few words. “Thank you, you look nice too.”

He chuckled at you, the breath passing his lips hitting your neck, a tingle passing through your spine. “You don’t have to lie, darling.” He squeezed you one last time before letting you go, your body instantly becoming colder as he backed away.

There's a low hum of Christmas music playing in his surround sound system, a tall tree tucked in a corner between his burning fireplace and window looking out onto the street.

You turn your attention back to Harry as he speaks up again, his famous dimples puncturing his cheeks. “Thanks fo’ comin’ early to help me out.”

You rolled your coat off your shoulders and hung by the door, walking up to him as he moved around the kitchen. “Oh yeah, it’s no problem. Not like I had anything else to do.”

He gave you a small sympathetic smile before throwing a tray full of greens into the oven. “I’m sorry you couldn’t go see your family.”

You shrug as you run your finger on the edge of his marble counter. “It’s alright, nothing I can do much anyway.” You perk up when you remember what you’re doing here so early in the first place. “Guess that’s why I’m here, no? What can I help you with?” Your heels click as you move around the counter closer to him.

“Nope.” His lips puckered as he pushed you back to where you were standing. “Just stand there and talk to me. Wine?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you blindly nod, watching him uncork a bottle of Moscato. Your favorite.

He hands you a glass of the sparkling wine before turning back around to the dishes, prepping food of all kinds for everyone and most importantly; eggnog.

“But, you said you needed my help.”

He chuckled nervously, his cheeks reddening. From your comment or from the wine? You weren’t going to get your hopes up. “I just need some company before the party. Just stand there and look pretty.”

You try your hardest ignore the blush on your cheeks. You twirl the wine glass from the neck, watching the liquid swirl around in the depths of the glass. “What about Katy?”

He sighs deeply, opening the oven to check on the food. “We’ve been kind of fighting lately.”

You did your best to stop the grin from forming on your lips, hoping he did notice your sudden burst at the new information. They are still together, so you can’t act on anything. “I’m sorry. Can I ask what’s going on?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know really. Anything and everything. Every little thing I do annoys her and anything she does annoys me. It just wasn’t the same.”

“Is she coming?” You ask before you can think about it.

He shrugs again, shoulders hanging more than usual. “I don’t think so. She said she was staying home since she can‘t fly back to her family either.”

A silence hangs between the two of you when neither of you said anything, not really sure of what needs to be said next.

“I don’t think I feel the same way for her as I did in the beginning.” Harry mumbled, arms crossed over his chest as his hip leaning against the counter, his usually bright eyes a little darker, a little sadder.

You walk up to him and lay your hand on his shoulder, giving him a small smile. “It’s not my business but, if you really feel that way, you shouldn’t lead her on, it’ll only hurt both of you.”

Harry looks down at the floor as he nods. “Thanks, love.”

There’s a wave of silence between you again as he raises his head to look at you. You almost felt small under his gaze. Something about his crystal green eyes always made you nervous. You were scared he could see what you were really thinking.

And you also swear his eyes fell to your lips.

•••

The dinner party was in full swing now, people’s laughter bleeding in with the loud Christmas music playing around the house. Some people were dancing in front of the fireplace, drinks being refilled every once in a while.

You were standing by the counter with your friends, Margot and Ava, chatting and drinking your eggnog instead of the wine you had before the party started. You had completely forgotten about the wonderful man hosting this party, the conversation you had earlier with him slipping your mind as the drink in your hand lowered to the bottom of the glass, intoxicating your thoughts.

Even though you offered to help, Harry didn’t let you help with the rest of dinner before everyone came over, so now the food still wasn’t ready as people flooded in. You heard him say something about potatoes and that was as much as you knew of the food preparation and when you would be able to eat.

The music is lowered a bit and then a clicking sound was heard, everyone turning their heads towards Harry, who clinked a fork against his glass. “Dinner is ready!”

Everyone cheered and started making their way towards the dining room. Most people had already filtered towards the next room when a knock on the front door was heard.

You turned your head as Harry twisted the knob. You were sure Harry's face mimicked yours when you saw who was standing at the doorway.

There stood Katy, hair newly bleached and a little overdressed.

She wasted no time in wrapping her arms around him, her plump lips repeatedly marking his face with the bright lipstick.

“Oh god,” you waltzed over towards Ava, who was pouring herself a new glass of eggnog. “pass me the eggnog, I can’t stand this sober.” You pushed her over slightly and grabbed the handle of the ladle she was using, filling up your cup almost to the brim.

Ava looked at you in curiosity at your sudden change, carefully looking over at the lovely couple still by the door. “Wait, I thought you told me they were fighting.” She whispered beside you, eyes widening as she watched you gulp down some of the eggnog you just served yourself to give yourself some more.

“Guess fucking not.” You were much less sober now, on the brink of tipsy and drunk. Your words slurred, eyelids heavy, vision blurry. “Let’s go fucking eat.” You dragged Ava by the wrist towards the commotion in the dining room, almost, but not quite forgetting about the couple behind you.

•••

You’ve had four glasses of eggnog. Or was it five? But now, you stand in front of the bowl, pouring some into your glass again, making it six.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” You hear his sultry voice behind you, his tone a little sassy and annoyed, but you didn’t care.

“What are you gonna do about it?” You slurred, turning around to face him. His pink lips were turned down in a frown, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration, his buff arms that were constricted in his sweater cross in front of his chest. “Gonna go kiss your girlfriend some more?” You stumbled on your feet, your drink almost spilling over the rim.

“What does that have to do with anything?” His face changed from annoyance to confusion. His thumb twisting the ring on his other finger nervously.

You open your mouth to retaliate, but even in this drunk state you knew not to say anything. You chug the creamy drink, keeping eye contact with him, watching his face change again. You didn’t care.

He obviously didn’t care either.

You sighed dramatically as you finished the drink. “Merry fucking Christmas.”

•••

You had sobered up quite a bit after your little encounter with Harry, mainly because there was no eggnog left.

You realized it was for the better though, so you made your way back into the kitchen, doing your best to not stumble or bump against anything as you grabbed an empty cup to fill with water.

“I am really sorry.” You knew his voice anywhere. But it wasn’t his usual chirpy, charming voice he had that always soothed you, it sounded more sad and somber.

“On Christmas? Out of any day you chose today?” Katy sniffled, voice wobbly and hurt.

“I know but, you know we can’t go on any longer, we’ll just hurt each other more.”

“I think I'm going to head out.”

You don’t hear Harry say anything back, but the sound of the door clicking open catches your attention and you almost turn around to watch.

“I just have one question.” Katy said weakly.

You walked away before you could hear anything else.

•••

Even though you were still a little upset at Harry (For what? You weren’t sure anymore), you stayed behind as everyone left to help him clean up before you head home.

You were putting things back in his refrigerator when you heard the front door close, the light chatter and drunken goodbyes silenced by the wooden door.

You kept your back towards the door, suddenly nervous of the words that would be spoken between the two of you.

“(y/n), can we talk?” Harry’s voice was low and sultry, your knees almost gave out.

“I should um-I should get going. It’s late.” You hurry around him to grab your things and for the door, but he holds your wrist.

“Please?” He sounded desperate, and for the first time in what felt like days you looked up into his emerald eyes. There was that desperate look in his eyes, his eyebrows furrowed and lips turned down into a frown.

You sigh and nod slowly.

He lets go of your wrist and stuffed his hands in his back pockets, his pink cheeks either from the cold or from nervousness.

“I’m sorry.” He said suddenly. “I didn’t mean to get mad and I know I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Is that it?

You weren’t going to lie, you thought he would profess his love to you or something.

“I um- I also,” he swallows and takes your hand, his rings cold to the touch. “I broke up with Katy.”

Your mouth opened for words to come out but nothing ever left your lips.

“Do you want to know the real reason why Katy and I were fighting?”

You’re still speechless, scared of the answer, even though you have an idea of what he'll say.

“I’ve always liked you, (y/n).” His shoulders rise in a deep breath. “I guess, I don’t know, I thought if I started seeing someone else it would it easier but, not being with you this past year has been hell and I know I haven’t made it any easier with being with Katy but—”

Your lips crash on his, your arms wrapping his neck, your fingers immediately tangling in his brown locks.

He stumbles back in shock but grabs at your hips, bringing you closer to his chest.

His pink lips press against yours, the corners slowly turning up into a smile, breaking your kiss.

“Merry fucking Christmas to me.”

•••

Taglist:

@samaratheweirdo @sarcasticallywitty15

(Let me know if you would like to be added or taken off taglist.)

[mickeyhenrysgf]

Fuck, Marry, Kill

Summary: After coming home from college, your parents decide to throw a party. At the party, Bucky Barnes stumbles upon a game you’re playing with your best friend.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: age gap, (reader is in college) making out, inappropriate touches and sexual acts, dirty language

“Noo! There’s no boys allowed down here” your best friend slurred, as she waved her alcoholic beverage in the air. You rolled your eyes lightly, carefully putting her cup down to prevent her from spilling the drink all over herself.

“Come on, sweetie. They’re all talking about kids and shit, I’m sick of it” Bucky announced as he sat down across from you.

“Yeah, well, don’t you think that’s a little concerning for you. Shouldn’t you be settling down...” you blurted, the alcohol already in your system giving you some courage.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at you, before taking a swing of his drink.

“And what about you? Huh? Last year in college and still no boyfriend” he challenged, shrugging.

He was good at this game. You hummed and tilted your head in response.

“At least I’m getting laid!”

“Fuck you, Barnes—“

“Is that a promise?” A smirk twitched against his lips and you rolled your eyes.

You first learned about Bucky when you came home for Thanksgiving in your sophomore year of college. Seated at the table, you noticed he wasn’t the same age as your parents. But, he was still a good 10 plus years older than you. Working in the same place as your parents and living almost 3 blocks down, they instantly became friends. Now as a senior, you also considered Bucky as a friend.

Your friend scoffed at the playful banter before hushing the both of you. “Anyways, Y/N, Fuck, Marry, or Kill” she whined, she was definitely drunk but you didn’t care.

Bucky’s elbows rested on his knees as he looked at you.

“Aren’t you a little too old to be playing that? Or is this some college bullshit game?” You blushed lightly, flipping him off. He chuckled softly and shrugged.

Yeah, so what if you had a crush on Bucky Barnes. It was harmless anyways. His kind eyes stayed on yours, waiting for an answer but you focused on your friend.

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead”

“Alright, let’s make this fun!” Your friend clapped as she giggled lightly at Bucky. “Let’s do— Jake from economics, Nick from the swim group, and Bucky!”

“What?” You and Bucky both said in unison, the two of you staring at each other.

“Oh, come on, Y/N— it’s just a game. Bucky doesn’t even care. Right?” She questioned, as she continued to drink. Bucky cleared his throat and shook his head. “See—! plus, we’re all adults here” she added, looking at you.

Bucky was curious. Honestly. The fact that he would have made a move if you weren’t the daughter of his fellow co-worker was telling. You made him laugh, laugh till tears filled his eyes. Made him even feel younger.

You looked over at Bucky, licking your lips in hesitation. You never fully understood the vibe he gave off. He had brought girls to your parent’s house before. Player? Probably. Sometimes when you visited your dad at his job, there would be a new girl in Bucky’s office. But, that was the first & last time you would ever see them.

“Well, I would do... marry- umm... Jake— because well, his family is fucking rich!”

“Good choice!” Your friend sang as Bucky watched you in anticipation.

“And then I would F-Fuck Nick—” you boasted in a very unconvincing way. It was lie obviously.

“Finally, I would kill you Bucky, sorry, you’re just not my type at all” you exaggerated, making a gagging face. That was a lie too.

“Aw! Sorry Bucky! You know Y/N never really had a type for older men” Your friend teased, finishing her drink.

You looked over at Bucky, your face feeling flushed. You prayed it didn’t show. Perhaps, you could blame it on the alcohol. Your palms releasing an unhealthy amount of sweat as well. But Bucky, He was unphased. Better yet, He smirked slightly. Why the fuck was he smirking , you thought to yourself. You wanted to scream at him. God, and now your back was sweating. This is gross, you thought, swallowing thickly.

“Y/N—? Hello?”

Your friend tried to grab your attention as thoughts ran through your head.

“What?” You snapped as you finished cursing out Bucky in your head. Oh, and he laughed at your mistaken aggression. He’s an asshole.

“It’s my turn” your friend said not realizing that you accidentally snapped at her but Bucky had. He noticed everything.

You started to clean the basement as your friends left one by one. It was almost midnight, and the party was quieting down.

“Missed something” the familiar voice said as he waved a wrapper in the air. You turned around slowly as Bucky stood, leaning against the basement wall. He shot a smile towards you. Of course, he’d be one of the last people still here. After your awkward game of Fuck, Marry, Kill , Bucky had excused himself out of the basement & went back upstairs.

“Oh, thanks. You can just put it in the plastic bag over there” you went back to tidying the items, but you heard Bucky’s footsteps become louder. He began to give you a helping hand in folding the chairs.

“That was quite a show you pulled off...”

“I’m sorry?”

“Y/N, I’m not dumb” he huffed, folding the chair and then stepping closer to you. You looked up and noticed how much taller he was compared to you. You stepped back a bit, tripping on the chair behind you. However, Bucky caught you. His hands firm on your hips.

He chuckled softly... that fucking laugh again.

“B-Bucky—“ You stuttered, looking up at him. His hands brushing over your skin for the first time. Goosebumps shooting across every inch. God, did he always look this handsome up close?

“You’re nervous-“

“I’m not.”

“So, you actually want to fuck Nick...?”

“You don’t even know how he looks!” He caught you off pulling out his phone.

“Oh, but I do—“ he showed you a screenshot from the university’s website. “You can do better than that.” He tsked as he put his phone back in his pocket.

“How did you even find that?”

He caught your lies. But, why? Why did he care? His hands squeezed your hips, running them up your body and then cupped your face. You felt fragile in his embrace. You weren’t scared, but you were nervous.

“Tell me if you want me to stop...” he looked into your eyes waiting for a disapproval. His thumb caressing your cheek before tracing your lips.

Make the first move.

Your hands pressed against his chest before sliding down until it reached his clothed hard on.

He groaned, pulling you against the wall, his slight hard on resting on your thigh, as you looked up at him with innocent eyes.

“Fuck, You know your father is going to kill me, right?” You smashed your lips against his. You couldn’t care less what your parents thought. Right now, you wanted to kiss Bucky. He licked your bottom lip, a way of asking permission as you opened your mouth, the two of you exploring & sucking on each other’s tongues. His hands reached down to your ass and squeezed on it. He patted it lightly, signaling to jump, which you gladly did. Your hands in his hair, Bucky’s hard on grinding against you, and making you wetter by the second. It was embarrassing how turned on the two of you were.

You pulled away slightly to breathe. Your lips already swollen, as Bucky playfully tugged on your bottom lip staring at you. “Tell me, what was the answer you really wanted to say?”

“I’d fuck you...” you admitted as Bucky grinned, leaning in and leaving small hickeys on your neck, causing you to moan lightly. He grabbed your hand and guided it towards his hard on. You blushed heavily, squeezing him which earned a filthy grunt to escape lips.

“You really thought you could keep this little secret to yourself, I would eventually find out—” He whispered in your ear, his hands running up under your shirt to grope your breasts. You whimpered, tugging a handful of his hair. His hands skillfully unhooked your bra before lifting up your shirt and bunching up the fabric till your breasts were on display.

“You’re fucking gorgeous” He licked his lips, before taking off the shirt and bra completely, throwing it on the floor. His mouth quickly attaching on the sensitive bud, as his other hand gave its undivided attention to your other breast. Bucky spared no time in pinching, flicking, and sucking which only made your arousal grow.

“Agh— fuck... Buck—“ his hands slapped over your mouth, his eyes now much darker than before. “As much as I would love to hear those moans, you better keep your pretty mouth shut” he warned as his mouth popped off from your breasts and went to licking a stripe up your neck.

“Or... You can come back to my place... I’ll make that pussy scream... You want that?” Bucky clearly wasn’t thinking straight. Neither were you. The two of you drunk off of each other’s touches without thinking of the consequences. You nodded as your hands started to palm him through his jeans. Bucky groaned, kissing you once again to shield the loud moans coming from the basement.

“Y/N...! Sweetie...! Are you down there?” You heard your mother’s voice and your eyes widened. Your mother was moments from catching you half naked with Bucky.

“Shit, shit, shit.” you began to panic, trying to push yourself off him. Your heart pounding.

“Shhhh.... Relax” his fingers stroked your cheek in the most delicate way possible before letting you down. He passed you back your bra and shirt,  as his hands were trying to move his hard on in a way where it wasn’t too noticeable.

He cleared his throat lightly. “Yeah—! She’s down here with me!”

Your eyes shot back to him still wide as before, as you quickly began to fix your appearance.

“Bucky, is that you?” Your mother questioned, her voice getting closer by the second.

“Sure is! Your daughter and I were just cleaning up the mess down here” your mother eventually coming down to the basement. A smile on her face as she saw the room spotless. Thank god, the room didn’t have the best lighting because your hair was a mess and your lips were swollen.

“She’s such a good girl...” Bucky stated nonchalantly, his arm pulling you in, as his hands rested on your ass. The nickname causing heat to rise in your cheeks. He squeezed your ass and you gasped lightly, quickly covering it with a cough.

“I’ll be right up, I just have to find uh— my phone” you explained, trying to push Bucky’s hand away from behind, but he only continued to knead your ass.

“Alright, honey, thank you Bucky for helping her out. You didn’t have to” she smiled kindly, oblivious to the actions happening behind you and Bucky before she headed upstairs.

You turned on your heel, quickly grabbing your phone. You tried to head towards the stairs but was stopped.

“Y/N...”

You released a heavy breath, looking up at him. The nonchalant attitude that he presented to your mother was gone. His hands running through his hair. More than likely, a reality check was settling in. He scratched his beard nervously, watching your every movement, waiting for you to speak.

“Don’t worry, Bucky, I’m not going to tell anyone” you promised, waving your phone in the air. “Text me when you get home...” you walked over to him and kissed his cheek. Before he could grab your wrist you pulled away and left Bucky in the middle of your basement to recollect his thoughts.

[roanniom]

Requests just in time for Valentine’s Day! 💘

I’d like to request a Valentine’s Day to remember with Clyde, please. Thank you for doing requests again!

Sure thing, anon <3

Deserving 

Clyde Logan x Reader

Word Count: 3,388

Note: This serves as Part 2 for what I’m now calling Hello Darlin’, a Clyde and Darlin’!Reader series that began with First Conversation Jitters.

Read Part 1 Here

Warnings: NSFW, phone sex, masturbation (f/m), unprotected PIV sex, oral sex (m receiving)

You run your finger over the rim of your lemon water as you watch your bear of a man serve drinks with his sweet and steady charm. It’s the night before Valentine’s Day and he’d asked you to hang out at the Duck Tape during his bar tending shift, something you were more than happy to do. You’d camped out on the last stool on the right with a book, waiting for the moments between orders when Clyde would sail down to your corner of the bar and romance you.

It had been about a month or so since you had begun dating but everything still felt so new. When you’d walked away that first night after leaving your number on the napkin – a move you’d only ever seen in movies before – you had half worried that Clyde would be too nervous to call. And he was nervous, a fact he’d confided to you on the fourth date, the first night you two had spent together. As he held you in the dark, a finger tracing the line of your jaw, the slope of your neck, he’d muttered quiet words into your skin. They were vulnerable but hopeful. That was the thing that struck you most. The hope in his deep, drawling voice as he recounted the way that his heart had stopped when you’d answered the door earlier in your pretty dress. The way your laugh had soothed him instead of increasing his anxiety.

The timing of your courtship had not been ideal as the holidays had rolled in pretty rapidly after that, meaning you had a lot of prescheduled traveling to do. You’d bitten your tongue to refrain from inviting Clyde to Thanksgiving dinner, knowing he had a close family of his own and also knowing that the pressure of meeting yours might be too much to take so soon. Similarly, Christmas and New Years were a wash. You’d spent these days texting Clyde rapidly under the table, sending him sweet messages and well-wishes which he reciprocated to the best of his abilities – Clyde was not a great texter.

What he was good at, however, was talking on the phone. You waited all day every day of your holiday trips for the moment when you could steal away to your guest room in the evenings and wait for his call. It always came, and the deep, rumbling “Hello darlin’” was something that you realized quite quickly had emblazoned itself on the surface of your heart.

“Hiya, handsome,” you’d reply and he could always hear the smile in your voice. Sometimes you’d facetime, but often you would just stay up late with your phone pressed to your ear, whispering into the night. Because like that first night together when Clyde had been emboldened by the dark, Clyde was equally emboldened by the barrier of distance and technology. You weren’t sure if missing you had brought something out in him or just that with time he’d become more confident in your budding relationship. All you knew is that he was no longer holding back and you couldn’t be happier.

“I dreamt a’yer mouth last night, darlin’,” he’d told you on Christmas Eve after you already had caught up on what you both had done all day. His voice was quiet but sure as he said it. Not timid as you’d expect. Heat had immediately rushed to your core and you’d gotten comfortable on the bed, tucking the phone under your cheek on the pillow.

“And what exactly was my mouth doing in this dream of yours?”

“Lookin’ nice an’ pretty…” You were about to thank him but he surprised you by continuing. “…around my cock.”

“Clyde Logan, you dog!” you whisper back at him, trying to contain the excitement that bubbles up from the newness of being dirty on the phone with your sweet man.

“Lips all stretched ‘round me. Almost prettier than yer beautiful smile.”

“I wish I could have left you with memories of the real deal so you didn’t have to just dream about it,” you’d said wistfully, suddenly saddened by the distance between you and all you had yet to experience together.

“There’s plenty’a time fer that when ya get back,” he’d comforted you. “Don’t ya worry yer lil head about that.”

“Clyde?”

“Yes, darlin’?”

“Can I give you a new memory right now?”

He’d been surprised to see you’d switched over to facetime but had been quick to accept the call. You still think sometimes about the expression on his face when you’d popped on the screen topless and touching yourself already. It was the face of a man who’d been granted a glimpse at heaven but still wasn’t sure of his worthiness.

You intended to prove to him just how worthy he was.

“Get nice and comfy – I want to cum while watching you stroke that beautiful cock, handsome.”

Clyde’s smile had been a mile wide as he’d dropped down on his bed to oblige you.

“Yes ma’am.”

By the time New Years eve rolled around, the two of you had become experts of how to drive the other crazy, often with words alone.

~*~

In the present it’s close to midnight when you glance up from your book again to find Clyde grabbing your empty water glass and bringing it to the sink. He’d gotten caught up with a particularly needy group of out of towners who’d required more service than the average customer. You didn’t mind. It had given you a chance to watch him in action from afar, taking in his large frame as he moved behind the bar. The small smile as he listened – really listened – to his customers. Every once in a while he’d looked up to catch you staring, shooting you a wink from across the way. It always sent the butterflies in your stomach into a flurry when he did that, especially in the bar which had been the setting of his first fumbling advances toward you. His growing confidence was sexy and though you were feisty and more than capable of taking care of him, it burned you up inside even more to know he was able to take care of you, too.

“Grab yer stuff, darlin’, we’re headin’ out,” Clyde says coming out from around the bar. Your eyes shoot to your watch.

“But last call isn’t for a few more hours!” Even as you say it you notice Earl take his place behind the bar, sending a wave your way. Clyde helps you into your coat and pulls you to the door as he explains.

“Earl’s got me covered. No need for m’girl to hang ‘round a seedy bar all night.” You laugh because it’s a regular occurrence for you to spend your nights there with him, but you play along while he helps you into his truck.

“My Prince Charming,” you coo. Clyde gives you a little bow before jogging over to get into the driver’s seat. He starts up the truck and immediately turns on the heat, watching you with a smile as you appreciatively warm your hands against the vent. You catch him watching you and suddenly get suspicious, narrowing your eyes with humor. “What are you looking at, Charming?”

“The most beautiful girl in West Virginia,” he says without missing a beat before shaking his head. “No – in the world.”

You laugh. It’s the full-bodied sound that he loves with his whole being.

“Now that might just be a bit of an exaggeration, Mr. Logan, but I think I’ll take it anyway.” You lean over the truck’s center console expectantly. Clyde leans forward immediately to oblige you with a kiss. His lips are soft and taste of lemon, or maybe those are your own lips, but either way, it’s warm and tangy and everything you’ve been waiting for all these hours at the bar. You try to deepen the kiss and are surprised to feel him pull away, your head moving forward to chase his lips when he breaks the contact.

“We’ve got somewhere to be, darlin’. You’re gonna make us late,” he chides you playfully, throwing the truck into gear and pulling out onto the dark road.

“Where could we possibly need to be? It’s almost midnight,” you reply, surprised.

“Exactly,” he says with a wide smile.

~*~

Clyde won’t let you look out the window as he approaches your destination. You tease him because it is night time in rural West Virginia and it’s not like you would be able to see anything through the darkened windows anyway, but you humor him by keeping your eyes squeezed shut. When the truck cranks to a stop he jumps out and makes his way to help you out, pulling you down with his metal hand and covering your face with his massive, warm flesh one. His prosthetic presses into your waist to guide you forward and you grin, happy about the contact.

“Am I allowing you to lure me deep into the woods, Mr. Logan?” you sing out, hearing him chuckle behind you.

“I’d say yer right on the money, sweetheart.”

“Trying to have your way with me, are you? Is that what Prince Charming would do?”

“If he had a girl as pretty as m’girl he sure would, you bet yer ass.” His hand abandons your face for a second to drop light little slap to your backside and you let out a laughing squeal, sure to keep your eyes closed of your own accord.

“No peakin’,” he says, quickly putting his hand back over your eyes.

“I didn’t! I wouldn’t – I’m a good girl,” you say, know the implications of the statement. You hear Clyde swallow thickly behind you. Bingo.

“Ya sure are, darlin’.”

Just as you’re about to ask if you’ve almost arrived wherever he’s taking you, Clyde pulls you to a stop. You feel him lean down low to meet your height, his chin dipping to rest on your shoulder, both his facial hair and his breath tickling your ear and making you shiver.

“Open yer eyes.”

You do as he says and immediately let out a gasp. In front of you lies a picnic blanket set up with a comfy assortment of pillows. The space is illuminated by a mix and match assortment of camping lanterns which cast a soft glow about the scene. A basket of fruit and cheese sits open beside a bottle of champagne that sits chilling in an ice bucket with two delicate glasses.

“Clyde!” You turn and throw yourself at the satisfied looking man behind you, curling around his body and kissing every part of him you can reach. His watch beeps and he looks at it with a broad grin on his face.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby.” He pulls you down to recline with him against the gathered pillows. You blink hard to hold back the tears that form unbidden.

“You planned all of this? For me?”

“Well I’ll be honest. Mellie and Jimmy helped,” he admits, running a hand up and down your back and pulling you into him to press a kiss to your forehead. “I had ‘em set all this up during my shift.”

It’s the most overtly romantic thing that anyone has ever done for you. You glance around and take in all of the details again, now with his warm skin under your fingers, his chest to your chest. It’s like something out of a romance novel, and you would know, you’ve sure read your fair share. Looking back down you see him watching you, registering each of your tiny reactions. He’s nervous, trying to make sure he’s pleased you. But he’s also hopeful. And that’s what breaks you.

Suddenly you launch yourself at him, pushing him down so that his back is pressed into the cushions and you are now straddling him. You pepper his face with kisses before arresting his mouth in a desperate lip lock. Though you are often the one who is chatty in the face of his pensive, thoughtful silence, you now find yourself at a loss for words. How do you tell him that you’re not used to being cared for in this way? How do you tell him that his sweetness sets your long-neglected soul on fire? That the string of meaningless relationships littering your past suddenly had meaning if only to lead you directly into his arms?

You don’t have the words to tell him these thoughts. So instead you tell him with your lips, your hands, your body. You run your hands down his t-shirt-clad chest, reveling in the thickness, the fullness of him, before drawing your hands down the length of his arms. You grab his wrists, sure to be gentle with his prosthetic, and urge them to settle above his head. It is only at this point that he resists, pulling out of a kiss.

“But darlin’…I need to touch you…” He’s breathless and you want to keep him like that forever. Keep his voice ragged and chest heaving so you can be his oxygen. Breathe life into him over and over.

“Let me do this, Clyde. My Valentine’s gift for my handsome man.” You grind down onto his hardening length at the end of your statement and his eyes roll back. When you feel him stop resisting the press of your hand on his wrists you know you’ve gotten him right where you want him.

You take your time. You kiss every inch of him over his clothes before crawling back on top to gyrate on his now straining member. His heavy breathing has made way for small, unabashed whimpers that are your new favorite sound. Clyde has been getting more dominant with you and you are excited to explore that new facet of your relationship. But for tonight you want to translate your emotions by riding him for all he’s worth.

After teasing him for long enough with your swiveling hips, you finally relent and pull his cock out of his dark jeans.

“Look at this beautiful cock. All hard and swollen just for me.” You double over to press a sweet kiss to his weeping tip.

“Only for m’girl,” Clyde nods feverishly below you. “Can ya…”

“What would you like, Clyde?” you ask, moving your hand steadily up and down his cock with languid strokes.

“Wanna be inside’a ya darlin’. Wanna feel if yer wet fer me.”

“Oh, baby…” you trail off and guide his cock to your pussy lips, your skirt long hiked up over your hips. You slide him up and down the seam of your opening, gathering your slick to coat him. He lets out a deep moan at the feeling. As you line him up you rake your nails over his soft belly with reverence. “You turn me on more than I’ve ever been turned on in my life.”

“Fuck,” comes Clyde’s muttered reply, his eyelids fluttering shut. You take this opportunity to lift up and then ease yourself down on him, letting his cock breach you with a slow ease. He’s large but you weren’t lying. You’re dripping for him, aching and desperate for the fullness that only he can provide you.

“Yer perfect. Feel so good,” Clyde forces out through clenched teeth.

You begin to ride him in earnest after you adjust more to his size, letting the muscles of your thighs propel you up and down to take him at an angle that causes you both to let out steady strings of moans. Clyde’s hips begin to work in tandem, thrusting up to meet you and making the slide of his cock through your pulsing walls that much more delicious. When a particularly good thrust topples you down to grip his shoulders, your breasts push down into his face, spilling from your bra cups and up through the wide neck of your shirt.

“Oh darlin’. Oh darlin’darlin’darlin’,” Clyde breathes out, straining his neck to push up into your cleavage. His flesh hand, which had up till now dutifully remained above his head, comes now to cup the side of your breast but you don’t have the presence of mind to reprimand him. You wouldn’t even if you did, his touch feels too good.

You gasp when he plants one foot flat on the ground for more leverage and spears up into you more aggressively than before. You shudder around him, cunt spasming on his cock with euphoric tension.

“Right there, baby?” he growls. He’s gazing up at you with a sweet intensity that you want to drink in forever, but the sensations in your cunt are overwhelming and it takes everything in you to simply nod. Your eyes screw up and your jaw drops, mouth forming a little “o” in response to another punishing thrust. Clyde chuckles below you. “Oh yeah. Right there.”

You cum shortly after but, as you had promised yourself silently the moment you had mounted him, you drag yourself down his body immediately, ignoring his groaning protests and gripping hand. When you take him in your mouth he’s already partially gone. He props himself up on his good elbow and alternates between gazing at you worshipfully and wincing in pleasure.

You suck on him, knowing how close he is and knowing he likes it when you get sloppy. He’d told you so over facetime on Christmas eve as you’d sucked on the fingers of one of your hands while riding and cumming on the other for him, your phone propped on the pillow. You gurgle as you take him deep into your throat, moaning around the fullness, the thickness of this perfect man below you. When you reach down to gently fondle his balls, Clyde lets out a deep-throated groan. His balls draw up from your hand and his hips pivot up, driving him deeper into you as he paints the inside of your throat with his cum. You welcome his orgasm, drinking him down until there’s no more, holding firmly at his hips as shudders wrack his body.

When you finally pull off to rock back on your heels you take in the sheer debauchery of this whole experience. Clyde lies sprawled out on the pillows below you, hand running through his sweaty hair, chest heaving, softening cock still poking out of his jeans. A giggle bubbles up from inside you and you let him pull you down where he silences you with a hard kiss as deep as the rumbling of his satisfied groan.

After a few seconds he rolls you so that you both are on your sides and he’s quick to bury his face in the space where your neck meets your shoulder. His customary place immediately following an act of intimacy. You’ve learned to recognize this and you don’t push him. Instead you welcome the tight clutch of this, the largest yet kindest man you’ve ever met, dragging your fingers up an down his cheek in a light caress. Moments pass in silence, save for your slowing breaths, until he speaks up, words muffled by the way he whispers them into your neck.

“Yer too good fer me, y’know.” He says it as a statement, not a question. There’s a weariness in his voice that doesn’t stem from how hard he’s just cum. Only now do you grip his jaw lightly, coaxing him from his hiding place against your flesh. You look him in the eyes, though he tries to avoid you. Instead you hold his gaze, finger swiping along his jaw. He sighs and adds. “I don’t deserve someone like you, darlin’.”

It’s your time to silence him with a kiss, but this time you don’t let actions do the talking. Clyde needed to hear you say the words that your clenching heart beats out, like some anatomical morse code. You grip his jaw tight and speak loud and clear.

“You deserve the world, Clyde.” His eyes melt, soft and full of adoration. You press a kiss to his forehead, one to each cheek, and then a chaste one on his lips before finishing. “And I’m going to give it to you.”

You may have spent the first three holidays of your relationship apart, but this Valentine’s Day you spent together in every way that mattered – mind, body, and soul.

~*~

Tagging some lovely friends (please let me know if you would like to be tagged or untagged in the future!): @noocturnalchild @thedivinemissn @insufferablelust @historyandfandoms50 @lostinthedrive @thewilddingleberries @edencherries @mariesackler @safarigirlsp @direnightshade @sacklerscumrag @paper-n-ashes @clydesfavoritegirl @wayward-rose @hopeamarsu @thegreenmatt @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @finn-ray-nal-beads @fizzywoohoo @maybe-your-left @aliveandlonely @han-not-solo @morby @emeraldsiren20 @maryforyou @aloneandsleepless @jynzandtonic @renmaulxo @millenialcatlady @leather-flannel-liquor @soggywhore @foxilayde @mylifeisactuallyamess

[narvaldetierra]

Zapatterson Headcanons

I have too many WIPs but sadly I'm getting a new writer's block, so I thought I could write some headcanons to get some inspiration and I wish this helps me to get out of the blockade.

I guess this cover the "Thanksgiving/Meet the Family" square from the Fall Bingo created by @storiesofsvu

When the team found out that Bill Nye was Patterson's dad, everyone was shocked. Everyone except for Tasha, who even mention that they had dinner together once, so...

After Tasha y Patterson decided to be in a relationship, it had to be a long-distance relationship due to their jobs in the CIA and Silicon Valley, which helped Patterson overcome all her trust issues after Borden.

Eventually, Patterson flew to NYC to spend Thanksgiving with her parents. She longed to see Tasha so badly that decided to invite her to have dinner with them and thus present Tasha with her family.

Both parents were shocked by the news, mainly because Patterson had only introduced them to her boyfriends and it was something they didn't know about their daughter. After a brief explanation about how a time of solitude and introspection had helped her to realize her bisexuality, there wasn't much to add about it, and just like that, they made Tasha part of their family.

During the evening, both parents told Tasha several anecdotes about Patterson, like that time when she was nine and try to build a supercomputer and she blow off the power to the whole neighborhood, or that other time when she was ten and they bought her, her first pro chemistry game and she couldn't stop mixing substances until she spilled it all on the dinner table and rot the wood.

Patterson was embarrassed by those stories, but Tasha found it cute and amazing. She could tell that her parents told those stories feeling proud of their daughter.

It was a few months later that Tasha got to meet Patterson's brother, after several months without hearing anything from him. It was a weird encounter and after that Tasha lead Patterson to a meeting with a family support group.

About Zapata's family, Patterson met the brothers first. Even when Tasha tried to dissuade her brothers, they didn't listen and put Patterson through a brief interrogation to know what were her intentions with their little sister. It was mostly a joke to make her nervous before accepting her into the family, but they also wanted to know her.

However, it took a while for Patterson to meet Tasha's father. The thing was that even when Tasha had come out in high school and her brothers were ok with it, her father was out of the picture since Tasha was five.

It would be a great thing to say that when he saw how happy was Tasha with Patterson, he put away his thoughts and was ok with it, but it wasn't like that. Although meeting his daughter's girlfriend make it all real and he couldn't keep denying that part of his daughter, deep down he still didn't approve of that life for his daughter.

However, Patterson also got to know Tasha's grandmother, who proved to be a more open minder. She was delighted to finally meet Tasha's girlfriend. They spend a lovely afternoon in which Tasha's grandmother kept bringing food to the table, everything homemade. After that day, she invited them every now and then to drink some tea and catch up.

Both families are very different, but somehow they could get along with each other.

[moonbeamsung]

Winter Nights & City Lights

Because nothing says ‘Christmas’ like spending the big day (and not to mention the whole holiday season) in the Big Apple living with your high school friend-turned-roommate, Mark Lee.

member: mark (featuring johnny)

au: roommate!mark x gn!reader, college roommate au, christmas au, ‘the gift of the magi’ au/inspired

word count: 9.5k

genre: fluff, angst, slice of life

warnings: profanity, underage drinking, hangovers, insecurities, mentions of food and drink, money issues, embarrassing moments

author’s note: This fic is close to becoming my favorite that I’ve ever written. It’s also almost twice as long as I planned, not to mention that tumblr crashed right as I tried to post it so here I am, two hours later. Overall I had a blast writing it and I hope you enjoy reading it! Please let me know what you think, too! :,) Happy holidays! <3

taglist: @astroboy-lele​ @kisshim​ @radiorenjun​

network tags: @kpopscape​ @neo-constellations​ @starryktown​ @culture-cafe​ @dreamlab-nct​

“That parade was so cool! I mean, did you see the size of all those balloons? They were huge! I’ve never seen so many people all in one place before,” Mark chatters away like an excited child as you navigate through the crowd that always seems to grow bigger year after year, gathered along the curbs of the New York streets to watch the famed Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.

“How are you not more excited about this?” He questions, and you stifle an amused giggle. “I’ve lived in the city for over a year, Mark. I’ve seen a thing or two.”

“Oh, right. I knew that.” The cold air only accentuates the blush on his face as he remembers that particular detail about you. It isn’t often that it’s demonstrated, however, considering you spend so much time cooped up inside of your shared apartment cramming in university work and studying. There are hardly any opportunities during the year to take in the sights of the concrete jungle you live in the very heart of, but luckily, one of your long-awaited breaks is coming up soon.

Thoughts of Christmas vacation are the only things keeping you going, along with countless cups of steaming hot coffee, as you prepare for exams in just a few weeks, weeks that seem to go by in a flurry of snow.

There’s less than three days left until your first one, but you’re nothing short of drained after pulling so many all-nighters, and you need a break. A breath of fresh air seems like just the cure for your burnout, so you slam your textbook shut and lethargically drag yourself off of the soft comforter you’ve been sitting on for the past two hours. You grimace at the deep imprint left behind.

Trudging through the living area, you knock softly on Mark’s bedroom door. A tired “Come in” sounds from the other side, and you push it open, immediately noticing his disheveled state. Eyes heavy with fatigue and lacking their usual sparkle of youthful innocence, he blinks back at you, “What’s up?”

“You look like you need a break just as much as I do,” you insist. His already-open mouth widens a bit more, “But... our first exam is on Monday, we can’t just—”

“Mark, come on, you’re one of the smartest people in our class. If anyone’s going to pass, it’s you.”

He huffs, “Maybe you have a point.”

“I do have a point, and you know it. A little walk in the park never hurt anyone, right?”

Mark rubs his eyes with the back of his hand, fingers raking through his dark locks before he musters up enough strength to push himself off of his bed and into a standing position.

“I’ll get my jacket.”

Central Park is a sight to behold on its own all year round, but something about the Christmas season makes it even more magical. You and Mark step at the same pace, your paths lined by metal benches blanketed in fresh snow. Even through the many layers of warmth you’re both wearing, the chilly air still nips at your skin. It’s Mark’s first time experiencing the holidays in New York City, and you’re determined to show him everything this real-life winter wonderland has to offer.

The story of how you two came to be roommates in the first place is an extremely lucky one. You met in high school, and had been part of the same group of friends along with six younger boys. Both Canadian, you’d been hoping to get into the same New York college since what felt like forever. The day that you received your acceptance letters in the mail was full of joy and celebration, but not even a week later, Mark got an unexpected scholarship to a local but prestigious university not far from where you lived that he simply couldn’t pass up.

Parting ways after graduation, you had thought you might never see each other again until you got a call from him. It was the day after your last exam of the spring semester in college and you were sitting on your two-person couch, feeling rather lonely. The number seemed too familiar, too good to be true, and scrambling to pick up the phone as it blared throughout your fairly small apartment, you answered with a shaky voice. Mark’s recognizable tone met your ears, and a wide smile met your face. Though he couldn’t see it, he could hear the happiness in your words.

As it turned out, his college had given him the opportunity to transfer to yours for the remainder of his four years, as their programs were closely linked and on similar levels. Graciously, he had accepted, and wanted you to be the first to know.

“So, uh... are you living with anyone?”

The question he dreaded asking more than anything else. Call him cliché, but he had the biggest crush on you in high school, much to his dismay and to the rest of his friends’ excitement. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to like you, but he feared that college could tear a potential relationship apart, regardless of whether or not you went to the same one.

As a result of this, he had never acted on his emotions. But he’s older now, and wiser, which leads him to believe that maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to maintain one, should he ever gain enough courage to ask you out.

“No, actually, I have my own apartment.”

Silence.

“...Are you looking for somewhere to stay?”

“Yes! Yes,” he replied a little too quickly, eager to accept what would hopefully be an invitation from you. He wasn’t disappointed.

“Well, my place isn’t the biggest, but you can live with me if you want to. Plus, we could split the rent between us!”

You’ve always liked Mark. He’s hardworking, kind, and humble, maybe a little too much of all these things for his own good. Even back in high school, you spent endless nights and very early mornings on the phone with him, trying to convince him to go to bed after he refused to stop studying. To reassure him that he did the right thing by ending that friendship, or to insist that he tell the teacher no one worked on the group project, so he did everything himself. You’ve been his shoulder to cry on for years, you’ve seen a side of him that he’s never been brave enough to show anyone else because they expect so much of him.

Mark knows he’s blessed to have had a picture-perfect childhood, a good family, and an education that was rigorous yet rewarding enough to prepare him for his next chapter in life. The pressures that came with being so lucky just got to him sometimes, and they made four years of high school seem more like fourteen.

You, on the other hand, didn’t quite have all the same luxuries that he did, but you still managed. He’s been there for you plenty of times, too. In your opinion, though, he’s the much more vulnerable one of the two of you, mainly to his cumbersome insecurities and shortcomings, however rare those shortcomings may be.

So in your mind, Mark Lee deserves the entire world and then some. The least you can do is share your apartment with him, either until he finds what you’re sure would be a much more desirable place to live, or if he wants to stay with you indefinitely.

What you don’t realize, and will eventually struggle to admit to yourself, is that your admiration for his perseverance and endless generosity is teetering rather precariously on the edge of blossoming into something more than just platonic.

“Sounds good, then. Thanks so much!” He had exclaimed, the sound of his pure excitement and gratefulness bringing a wave of heat to your face, and you were glad he wasn’t there in front of you to see it.

You talked a little bit more for the next few minutes, catching up and enjoying a lighthearted conversation about what you had both been up to. These sessions on the phone began to occur more and more frequently, turning into weekly, and soon daily, affairs. Mark planned to move in a couple weeks before school started again, giving himself some time to settle in and adapt to urban life in general. The calls became a highlight of your summer vacation, and every day without fail, you found yourself waiting to hear the unique ringtone you had set his contact to.

Less than twelve hours before Mark was scheduled to arrive at New York’s largest airport, you were on the phone with him just like always. The clock in your apartment chimed eleven o’clock, and as reluctant as you were to hang up, you knew you should turn in for the night. After all, the sooner you went to sleep, the sooner the morning would come. The morning you would meet him at the airport.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” His voice was hopeful. Slightly unsteady, but hopeful all the same.

“I guess so. What time does your plane land, again?” You confirmed the time you had scribbled down onto a neon yellow sticky note a few days earlier as he repeated the short string of numbers, nodding to no one in particular. Why did you feel so nervous? It’s just Mark, you had told yourself.

“Have a safe flight!”

He bade you goodnight in return, accidentally throwing in a “sweet dreams” before he could stop himself. When you put your phones down, you were both too busy trying to calm your racing pulses, however, so it didn’t matter. Mark collapsed onto his bed, hand bumping his duffel bag and heaving a sigh. You sank down into the couch cushion, closing your eyes and leaning your head against the back of the furniture. Neither of you could find the strength to stand in those moments, scared that your legs would give in from the unsteadiness of your nerves, your hearts, your emotions.

A singular worry occupied both of your minds from that point on until you greeted him in the JFK airport terminal the next morning, shy smiles on your faces: is it dangerous to enter into the impending situation of living together? Are you really ready to be in such constant close proximity to the object of your affections, however oblivious you might be to them?

Before his brain could talk his heart out of it, Mark had wrapped you in a tight hug, extra thankful for the welcome since you were all he had here, in the city. You wouldn’t have missed his arrival for the world, and you told him so. You also wouldn’t have missed the chance to make him flush a deep but adorable shade of red, reaching from his rounded cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears.

In your long-term rental car, you drove him back to your apartment, enjoying the quiet sounds of surprise and amazement that spilled from his lips, generated by the city’s sights. As you passed underneath towering skyscrapers, navigated bustling avenues, and caught glimpses of world-renowned landmarks that you both had seen only in the movies when you were younger, you just knew Mark’s eyes held their signature sparkle, despite your inability to see the dark brown orbs glimmer with wonder. You kept yours on the road ahead.

His first day was spent unpacking his suitcases and bags full of possessions, one of which was his most prized: an acoustic guitar.

It had been a gift from his parents when he finished the eighth grade, and all throughout high school, he had turned to music as an escape whenever he needed it. As any new musician does, Mark had played around with chords, experimenting and seeing what sounded good, and before you knew it he had composed a song. Another one followed, then another, and by the end of his freshman year he had written enough to fill an entire album if he so wished.

The guitar had heard every note, every lyric, carried every melody from his heart into the world. It had grown to be a part of him, a worldly sliver of his soul in the form of a simple musical instrument that could convey every hope and every dream, every concern or every frustration. Every love confession. Though that wasn’t saying much, since he only had eyes for you. You didn’t know it, but one of those songs was about you. For you.

You and Mark’s circle of friends tried to set you two up one day in the school’s band room after hours, with the excuse that the second-youngest of the group, Chenle, had forgotten his piano sheet music in there. They sent you to retrieve it, which you only agreed to do after being persuaded by the boy’s intimidating but still lovable pout.

With no sheet music in sight, your eyes landed instead on a diligent Mark that appeared to be the only sign of life in the room, plucking away at the strings as the sun set outside. You had sat with him for a while, neglecting your task and listening to him strum gracefully, softly murmuring lyrics that sounded like your name at one point. You didn’t think much of it, though, not making the connection behind the rest of the words coming out of his mouth and accompanying the chords. His love song was left unacknowledged by the subject of it themselves, and that was both the first and last time he ever attempted to confess to you.

He wondered if now that you were sharing an apartment, he would let something slip by accident. What would he do then?

University had other plans, though, and his fears were temporarily relieved. So fortunately and unfortunately, you were so occupied with schoolwork that trying to balance dating, or even mere thoughts of doing so, with all of your other responsibilities would have been exhausting, not to mention impossible.

Snapping out of your memory-induced daze, you realize that you nearly wandered off the path into a deep snowbank, only aware of this fact because Mark catches you by the wrist and pulls you back toward him to walk at his side. His fingers stay curled around your forearm as you approach a famous bridge, stepping to the side and gazing down at the icy waters below, calm and rippling with the chilly breeze.

“What do you want for Christmas?”

You honestly haven’t thought about it yet, so you can’t give Mark a definite answer. The same goes for him, both of you leaning against the brick railing in a comfortable silence.

In Mark’s mind though, he knows what he wants to give you: something to complement your own equivalent of his guitar, a large collection of handwritten letters and notes from your childhood and school days. Sentimental by nature, you had saved every colorful post-it note one of your friends would slip through the narrow slats of your locker, every birthday card received over the years, every thoughtful postcard from someone’s vacation.

Your favorites are undoubtedly the always-awkward Christmas cards that your friends’ families consistently mail out each December, by far the most humorous parts of your growing collection. You always found yourself chuckling at the pictures displayed on the front. Eyes bright with mirth, you would observe their forced smiles and arms slung carelessly over siblings’ shoulders, their eyes flickering between the camera and something going on behind it, probably the family pet getting into trouble across the yard. You pitied the photographers, surely beyond frustrated as they would try to get everyone to stand still for more than five measly seconds. Mouths were clamped shut and for a brief moment, the air was void of complaints of how itchy someone’s sweater was.

Then the camera would snap, capturing an image that was simply “good enough.” They’d plaster it on the card and in a few days, it would magically appear in the mailboxes of relatives and close friends. Grandparents would overlook the uncomfortable expressions and focus instead on how fast the kids were growing up. You didn’t blame them. Even in four years’ worth of cards, so much could change. In between fits of laughter, you’d stare in awe at the way your friends grew into their features, only becoming more handsome with time and some growing so tall that they even towered over their fathers. You always kept the letters they included, too, detailing the highlights of the year that was soon to come to an end by the time they dropped it into a nearby mailbox.

And like he could read your mind, Mark makes an offhand comment right then and there. “My folks texted me the other day to ask for our address. You know, for the Christmas card.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Shame I couldn’t be there for the family photos this year.”

“Is it really a shame, though?” You prod, tilting your head a bit at the boy. “You always told me you couldn’t stand waiting around for the so-called ‘right lighting’ and all that.”

“Well, I couldn’t, but now that I’m not there I wish I could go back to those days. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, you know?”

“Right,” you sigh, thinking about how the same saying could easily apply to the way you felt about Mark all throughout your first year of university.

You have a box, made of a dark mahogany wood and lined with elegant golden trim, where you keep all of these letters, these handwritten memories and souvenirs from some of the happiest moments in your life. A gift from a past Christmas, your family had your initials engraved onto the front in a loopy cursive font, making it truly unique and utterly irreplaceable. And, you’ll soon come to realize, valuable.

Mark remembers it well, remembers the many times you’ve shown him its contents, remembers how his eyes sometimes land on the delicate container resting beneath the windowsill in your room, sunlight catching the accents. He knows how much those letters mean to you, and he also knows how much you love returning the favor.

That’s why he wants to give you the tools you need to do just that, and to do it well.

You’ve always been one for writing thank-you notes for any and every gift you receive, your parents having ingrained the habit in you since you were very young. Slowly, crayons turned into pencils and lead became ink. To this day you remain unfazed by the increasing amount of yellowing papers residing in the letter box, but the words imprinted on them never quite fade, strong enough to withstand the test of time.

Too many times in high school Mark would find you, hunched over your dining room table in frustration with a stack of letters beside your arm that you deemed “failed” because your handwriting was bad, or something of the sort. Usually it was the other way around, him being the one in need of comfort, but on those days your roles were reversed.

He had always wondered why you didn’t have fancier supplies that were more suited to your task, but he supposes now that maybe it simply wasn’t an option for you and your family. So a stationery set seems like the perfect gift for you this year.

On a similar note, you’ve already decided what you’re getting him: a guitar case. You happened upon a sleek leather one while browsing the website of a popular music store, coincidentally with a location not too far from your apartment.

Now it’s no longer a question of what to get the other, but how. As university students living on your own, money is scarce. Unknowingly, you both contemplate this concern as you walk side by side, returning to the start of the path that you set out on at least a half hour ago.

This stroll of yours was supposed to clear your minds, but why are they racing even more than before?

There’s no time to worry now, though, and for the next week, your thoughts are forced to shift back to the topic of school and midterms and all your academic endeavors.

Your exam week is over before you know it, and the two of you return to your apartment after the last one only to collapse onto your respective beds, beyond exhausted.

The dreary Friday afternoon clearly calls for a nap, but unbeknownst to you, Mark decides to seize the opportunity that has so conveniently presented itself to him: a chance for him to go out and buy your gift without suspicion. He drops his backpack on the carpet next to his dresser and sighs, wondering if what he’s about to do will be worth it. But it’s you, of course it’ll be worth it.

Thus, his next move is done with a heavy heart. He’s been forced by a lack of funds to come to a decision about your gift, and a difficult one at that. The only thing he can think of doing to even come close to affording a nice stationery set is to sell some things in exchange for cash. Namely, the most valuable item he owns: his beloved guitar. He doesn’t really want to, but deep down he knows that a true friendship warrants the occasional sacrifice. He’s done some research on a nearby pawn shop, and however sketchy those kinds of places may seem, it’s his only feasible option at the moment, with just a week left until Christmas Day.

After making sure you’re fast asleep, he not-so-stealthily slips out of your shared flat, his actions far from silent but even so, you don’t wake up. Mark winces at the unintended high volume of pulling the front door shut behind him, sticking his hand into his jeans pocket and relaxing when he feels his keys at the bottom of the fabric compartment. Guitar strung over his shoulder by the flimsy, fraying strap, he sets off.

With his phone in hand and directions to the pawn shop displayed on the screen, he strides through the lobby of the apartment building and pushes the revolving door, stepping onto the busy sidewalk and into the cold winter air. Shoppers crowd the pavement with hands full of department store tote bags, crinkling loudly as they pass by one another. Shoulders knock together and heels click against the concrete, just some of the many sounds of the city that Mark is still growing used to hearing.

A few blocks and several wrong turns later, he finds himself on a quieter street, standing in front of the shop. It’s dimly lit inside and looks almost abandoned, the letters painted on the window chipped and faded from the wear and weather of past years. A soft bell rings when he lets himself in, searching for some sort of employee.

From behind a cluttered shelf a tall man emerges, the shabby name tag pinned to his vest reading “Johnny.” Well, he’s not some shifty-eyed, balding man wearing a muscle shirt stained with grease. New York continues to be full of surprises.

His dark hair looks neat, the jacket he’s wearing free of any wrinkles and face young but chiseled, high cheekbones prominent.

“How can I help you today?” Johnny booms, stepping behind the counter and absentmindedly sifting through some loose change in bottom of the cash register.

Mark gulps, “I’d like to sell something.” Still not entirely sure he wants to do this, he instinctively tugs on the strap resting atop the fabric of his wool jacket.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” Johnny assures with a small laugh. “What did you have in mind?”

Taking a deep breath, Mark slides the guitar off his shoulder and holds it near his chest for a moment, before extending his arms out towards the counter.

“A guitar, huh? We don’t see many of these,” the tall man comments. “Are you sure? It seems pretty valuable to you in more ways than one.”

Mark’s fingertips trace the strings for the last time and he decides to just get it over with, before he can change his mind. His hands are shaky as he gently places the instrument down on the counter in front of Johnny, taking a step back once he’s done so. “I don’t have much of a choice. I need the money to buy a gift for my… uh, my friend.”

Johnny raises an eyebrow, “Just a friend? Or a special someone?”

“They are special,” Mark confirms, noncommittal to either title that Johnny suggested.

“They must be if you’re willing to give up something like this for them. Okay, that’ll be…”

Johnny tells him what the guitar is worth, matching the amount with a stack of cash and a few old coins, rusty but still holding their value.

Despite the pain of letting something so meaningful go, a bit of joy creeps into Mark’s heart as he realizes that now he can give you a gift that will hopefully become just as meaningful to you as his guitar was to him.

He thanks Johnny and bids him goodbye, step lighter than when he entered, much to his surprise.

It’s the next day when you and Mark find yourselves getting into the Christmas spirit for the first time this season. After he had returned yesterday, you were still out cold on your bed, so he chose to follow your example and do the same. The both of you had slept the rest of the day and almost the entirety of the following morning away, waking up just before noon.

With a sudden burst of energy you spring up from the sheets, overtaken by your excitement for the nearing holiday as you dig out the artificial Christmas tree you had bought last year from your closet. Sure, it may seem lazy of you, but let’s face it: there was no easy way to find a real one in New York City, let alone lug it down the streets, through an elevator and down a narrow hallway to a door it wouldn’t even fit through.

Mark hears the loud rustling of various decorations as he begins to stir, leisurely getting out of bed and checking one of his dresser drawers to make sure he hadn’t merely dreamed up his shopping adventure of the previous evening. There the stationery set sits, tucked safely at the back of the wooden cabinet.

The bookstore he stopped at on his way back last night had many different options to choose from, so he made sure to get one that both matched your box of letters and reminded him of you, with its color scheme and style. A surge of pride brings a smile to his features, pleased with his choice, and he pushes the drawer shut before joining you in the living area.

Your knees brush as he sits down next to you to help unpack the large but manageable box, taking out the tiers of the tree to eventually stack on top of one another. Working more quickly than usual (and probably necessary, there are six days left after all), you assign Mark to stringing the lights across your small balcony while you finish setting up the tree. You knew you shouldn’t have let him do it alone, though, because when you look over at his progress you find more lights wrapped around his body than the metal railing.

“Do you need a hand?” You question, holding back a laugh at the way the cord restricts his arm movements to the point where he can’t even reach for the handle on the sliding door.

From outside he opens his mouth to reply, but pauses, looking down at himself and the mess he’s made of the lights before meeting your eyes once more. His voice is muffled by the glass, but you hear him shout playfully, “I’m the tree now! We don’t need that one.” He tries to gesture to the one you’re currently decorating, but fails, and this time you aren’t able to contain your amusement.

“Let me help you,” you offer, joining him on the balcony and helping him untangle himself from the glowing strands. “Thanks,” Mark replies, sheepishly rubbing at the back of his neck. With your combined efforts, you manage to thread the string of lights through the railing with little to no mishaps, and both of you continue decking out the apartment with other seasonal items for the next several hours.

At some point during the afternoon one of you decided to connect their phone to a speaker and play some music, all Christmas songs of course. As the classic version of “Jingle Bell Rock” begins to blare throughout the living room, Mark abandons his task momentarily to walk over to you. He extends a hand down to you, sitting on the floor, and you accept the invitation to stand up with a questioning look.

“Dance with me?”

It’s hardly a platonic request, Mark realizes once the words leave his lips, but even so you don’t shy away, glancing down at your feet with a slight trace of bashfulness in the action.

He intertwines your fingers somewhat loosely, placing his non-dominant hand on your waist and beginning to sway, slowly at first but then his movements become more exaggerated, shoulders tilting dramatically to one side after the other and straying from the rhythm of the music. You join Mark in drawing out the jesting movements, losing yourself in laughter and leaning forward to bury your face in his shoulder, the heat of your breath hitting his skin through the thin t-shirt he’s wearing. In one last attempt to keep the joyful smile on your face, he steps back a bit and holds your wrist above your head to twirl you in a circle.

The electric guitar in the song fades as you collapse onto the carpet, recovering from your fit of giggles. The sun has begun to sink in the sky, you can tell by the gold and orange glow that your apartment becomes bathed in as it sets, inching closer to the horizon and eventually becoming hidden by tall skyscrapers in the distance.

Satisfied with your progress so far, you both decide to call it a day, though in truth there aren’t many decorations left to put out. A few stray ornaments and some garlands remain, still packed up in boxes that you would need help reaching. You’re also eager to get your mind off of the way your heart was palpitating as you danced with Mark, your roommate and friend but nothing more, nothing less. You have enough to worry about at the moment, not wanting to add potential feelings for the boy into the mix. Shit, you think, you still need to buy his gift.

“What should we watch?” Mark asks, scrolling through the list of movie choices on the TV screen.

“I don’t really care, anything’s fine.”

His finger presses a button on the remote to select a film at random, the intro playing as you scan the refrigerator shelves for a frozen meal. Hopefully it’s not one of those cheesy holiday romances.

Settling down on the couch a few minutes later, you with the warmed-up container in your lap and Mark holding a cup of ramen noodles, both of you fall into a comfortable chatter about the movie. Thank god it’s a comedy.

Occasionally you find yourself diverting your attention from the harsh display and directing it over to the panes of floor-to-ceiling windows, where you watch more and more lights flicker on in the distance, illuminating the urban landscape as night falls. The view is breathtaking, but so is the way your face softly glows with their warmth, even from blocks away. Not that Mark would ever tell you that, of course.

“I’m going out!” Mark hears shuffling from outside his bedroom the next morning, your voice instantly bringing him to his senses. Curious, he shoots out of bed and flings the door open to find you, one arm stuck through the sleeve of your coat and the other buried in a bag, but it’s not the one you usually bring when you leave the flat. Eyes wide and panicked at the boy’s unexpected appearance, you clutch it to your chest with a visible amount of difficulty, Mark notices.

“Where are you off to?” He squints at the brightness of the living room, the early morning light pouring in through the glass on the far wall.

“...Maybe I can’t tell you,” you respond with a huff, slinging the heavy bag over your shoulder and pulling the rest of your coat on.

“What do you mean, you can’t—oh.”

“Nice going, genius,” you shake your head, feigning disappointment. “It’s not like it’s Christmas this week or anything.”

“My bad, sorry.” Mark winces and rakes a hand through his bedhead, abashed.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?”

With that, you step into the hallway and offer a parting smile over your shoulder, shutting the front door behind you.

At least your being out of the apartment gives Mark time to wrap your gift. All he has to do is figure out how.

Johnny gets a familiar feeling when he sees you enter the pawn shop, fumbling with your things and reluctantly gazing at whatever’s in the tote you’re holding. Are you also about to make an exchange you could potentially regret?

“One second,” you excuse yourself as you step up to the counter, placing the heavy bag down and removing the large item from inside: your letter box, minus its contents. Of course you would never get rid of those, but despite the letters and notes being so special to you, the box they were always kept in is also a significant part of your attachment and the memories you hold dear.

With a thud you set it down, Johnny glancing between the hesitation on your face and the wooden container on the counter in front of him. “Let me guess, you want to exchange this for cash?”

“Yes, sir, that’s exactly what I—” You pause, biting your tongue. “Hold on… Look, I know this is a pawn shop and that’s what people do here, but how are you so sure?”

Johnny’s gut tells him he shouldn’t give away the fact that a boy wearing the very same expression and with the same sense of purpose and determination was in here just two days earlier. So he corrects his mistake with a simple “Lucky guess” and a hearty chuckle.

Without Johnny even asking, you tell him that you’re also looking for some extra cash in order to afford a gift for your “friend,” and you say the word with so much conviction and certainty that it’s almost laughable. The information given to Johnny helps him fully connect the dots in his mind, realizing that each of you are the one the other talked about.

Before handing you the money, Johnny tears off a sheet of paper from a nearby notepad and asks you to fill out your information, most importantly your address. He has to lie a bit, saying it’s for contact purposes, but his heart is in the right place nonetheless. Just in case something goes south (and the sinking feeling in his stomach tells him that it will somehow), doing so gives him an option, even if he doesn’t know what that option might be yet.

“Thank you, Johnny, and Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas!” He returns your wish cheerfully as you push the door open to leave.

“Good luck finding a gift for your ‘friend,’ too.”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks when you see his teasing use of air quotes, but still smile.

On your way back to the apartment Mark texts you and asks you to check the mail, saying he forgot to do so yesterday. When you arrive in the lobby and make your way over to the cluster of mailboxes, you’re instantly shocked to find a large cardboard box shoved into the small cubby with your and Mark’s name on it. You’re already struggling to carry the guitar case you bought for him, so you decide to make a second trip later.

A few moments after stepping out of the elevator, you knock on the door to your apartment, hoping with all your might that Mark won’t actually open it and instead just answer with a “Come in” as he always does. Your wish is, thankfully, granted, but it’s quickly followed by “Wait, wait, wait!” As it happens, he just finished wrapping your gift and needs another minute or two to tuck it away somewhere until the big day arrives. “Can you stay out there until I say?”

“Sure,” you reply, “but I’m going to have to ask you to do the same.”

“How about I stay in my room while you come in and do… whatever you need to?”

“Sounds good.”

With his door closed, Mark hears the front one open and shut as you enter. Trying not to make any noise that would give away the size of the item you just bought, you finally settle for hiding the leather case underneath your bed, concealed by the drapery attached to its frame that hovers just above the floor.

Mark had hastily placed the now-wrapped (though not elegantly so) stationery set back into his dresser, so he’s already out of his room by the time you leave yours. “Any letters or packages?” He questions when he sees you.

“Oh, right!” You snap your fingers, “We do have a package but my hands were full, so I’ll bring it up right now.”

“Eggnog?”

While the box had looked fairly ordinary from the outside, upon opening it and glancing at the return address you learned it was actually anything but that. Mark’s and your parents had sent a holiday care package of sorts, including both of your families’ Christmas cards and a carton of eggnog, along with some small gifts that are meant to be saved for the morning of the 25th. Also mixed in are a few small decorations (not that you need more), some baking supplies complete with a copy of the recipe for the cookies you make every year, and a soft pair of mittens for each of you. He hopes you don’t realize that one of the items is a sprig of mistletoe.

“You don’t like eggnog?” You ask, stunned. Mark shrugs, “I don’t really care for milk but it’s the thought that counts, I guess.”

That evening you and Mark take another stroll, this time choosing to stay on the streets and admire the festively adorned buildings and shops as you pass by them. Admiring Christmas lights at this time of year is nothing new to you and Mark. In fact, when you lived in Canada you would do the same thing. The only difference is that back then, it involved driving through quiet suburban neighborhoods and not ambling through crowded city streets and alleyways on foot.

Snowflakes begin to cascade from the heavens as you make your way back around to the block where you live. Mark sticks his tongue out to catch one of the small crystals, and it immediately melts in his mouth, eliciting a high-pitched laugh from the boy. Snow is also something you both are more than used to by now, having grown up with white Christmases all your lives. It makes you wonder if the holiday season would be the same without it.

“You know what we should do?” Mark turns to you just as you’re about to enter the apartment building again. “Go ice skating at Rockefeller Center.”

“Mark, c’mon, you know stuff like that is overpriced. And besides, I can’t skate to save my life. Remember—”

“That time in sophomore year? You bet I do,” he laughs as he remembers how you clumsily fell not even two seconds after stepping onto the ice with your skates, and then refused to let go of the railing for the rest of the day. The elevator whirs to life, climbing floor after floor with ease.

“Hey,” you offer, “we can still go and watch people skate, I’m sure there’s some place to sit.”

“And we can look at the Christmas tree, too,” Mark adds, eyes brightening at the idea.

“Right. I forget you haven’t seen it in person before.” The cabin doors open with a ding and you step out, your eyes landing on the door to your apartment a few yards away.

When you turn on the TV, Mark becomes mesmerized by the movie that’s playing, since it takes place in NYC and he recognizes so many places from actually being there. He scrambles to remove his jacket and beanie, plopping down onto the couch once they’re safely hooked on the coat rack.

Watching him, you sigh. Would anything really change if you were dating? Assuming your feelings were returned, of course, but you can’t imagine that your relationship would differ much. You certainly wouldn’t go on extravagant dates, or buy expensive gifts for each other, but that’s not what love is about, anyway. With the exception of a few extra hugs and the addition of kisses, along with more forms of physical affection in general (actually, scratch that, Mark’s always been awkward with those kinds of things), you’d still be by each other’s side just like always.

As you sit down next to him and feel an arm wrap around your shoulder, you don’t shrug it off, instead embracing the warm and fuzzy feeling in your heart that you can’t blame on the holiday season this time.

Mark’s glad, too. He’s been working up the courage to do that all day.

Late that night, you quietly tiptoe into the living area, retrieving an old box from your move-in last year that will fit his gift perfectly, and won’t give away what’s inside. Your hands fold and tape the wrapping paper with care, tying a neat ribbon once you’re done. Sure, you had to give up something that meant a lot to you in order to afford Mark’s present, but the gains outweigh the losses. You find comfort in imagining the way his face will surely light up with pure joy on Christmas morning, drifting off to sleep with ease once you’ve hidden the rectangular parcel back underneath your bed.

A few days pass and soon it’s the 23rd, and you join Mark at the railing of the ice rink, of course on the side with solid ground. “Ice is solid ground,” Mark had corrected, but you stood firm in your words. “More like slippery ground, if you ask me.”

Luckily you had been allowed to stand here for free, because god only knows what small, simple thing someone would be charged for in New York. It’s happened to you before, and you’re not even a tourist.

Mark’s dark eyes gaze up at the 75-foot-tall tree in wonder, pupils dilating and reflecting the tens of thousands of bright lights strung through the dark green branches. They seem to sparkle with sheer amazement. Just then someone skates a little too close to the section of railing you’re leaning on, startling Mark out of his LED-induced daze and putting the most adorable look of surprise on his face.

His focus shifts to the people on the ice, wearing sweaters and jackets of every color imaginable, and the sight is still as beautiful as the looming Christmas tree above. He notices some couples, holding onto one another or skating hand-in-hand, and it makes him wonder if that could be you two someday, at a future Christmas, or if it’s an idea absurd enough for an alternate reality.

Mark sees you shiver out of the corner of his eye, and it’s his cue to suggest returning home for the evening. In a very cliché and boyfriend-esque gesture he offers you his jacket, but you decline, insisting that it’s not far and assuring him that you’ll be okay.

Back in your heated flat, you twist open the lid of the eggnog carton and pour a small glass for yourself. “Are you sure you don’t want some?” You call out to Mark from the kitchen, snatching one of the cookies you made the other day and finding a paper plate for the thin shortbread wafer, lined with elegant white icing and dusted with sprinkles.

“I already told you, I don’t like eggnog!”

“Have you even tried it before?” Mark grumbles at your nagging. You really sound like his mom right now.

“No…”

You appear at the other end of the couch, holding out a small cup with just a sip or two of eggnog in it. “Try it. You never know.”

He knows you won’t leave until you see him lift it to his lips for yourself, so he does. Immediately the sweet drink overwhelms his taste buds, and also leaves a slight sting on his tongue.

“What’s in this stuff?” He coughs, nose scrunching a bit from the strong taste. Surprisingly, though, he doesn’t hate it. Following you back to the kitchen, Mark pours a full glass this time, already gulping it down.

“Uh,” you scan the ingredients on the back of the carton once he sets it down on the counter, “milk, cream, sugar, eggs…”

“...whiskey? What the hell?”

“It has alcohol,” Mark slurs, his giggling interrupted by a hiccup. Having never drank before, he’s undeniably a lightweight, and even a little bit can get him wasted almost instantly.

“Mom and Dad must have mixed something up, because they definitely didn’t mean to send us alcoholic eggnog.”

Sure enough, back home in Canada your parents are wondering why they only have the kid-friendly stuff in their fridge.

Mark latches on to you, arm curling lazily around your waist. Great, he’s one of those people that gets clingy when they’re drunk. “Try some,” he whines, nuzzling into your shoulder a little.

“Are you crazy?”

“No one will know,” he laughs, hiccuping again. Giving in to his adorably drunken pout, you take one sip from your original glass but no more, an unpleasant buzz taking over your whole mouth.

Not looking forward to finding a hangover cure on Christmas Eve of all days, you pray that you’ll stay sober enough to take care of the tipsy boy, who’s currently pressing his face into the back of your neck and—shit, did he just kiss you there? You really don’t need this right now.

“Mark, you’re drunk, okay? Stop it,” you caution.

“But I love you,” he murmurs, warm breath fanning your skin, and you want to kick yourself for almost saying it back. Does he even mean it, though? Alcohol makes people say crazy things, things they don’t mean, so you shouldn’t get your hopes up. You unhook his arm from your torso and turn around to push against his chest, frustrated. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He seems to have just remembered something, because he ignores you and instead goes over to where the care package was still sitting, digging into the bottom and pulling out something you hadn’t noticed before. “Look,” Mark declares in a nasal voice, “mistletoe.”

You exasperatedly hang your head, desperate to slam it into the nearest wall. With much difficulty, you eventually manage to get him tucked underneath the blanket, leaving a glass of water on his nightstand for when he wakes up. “Get some sleep,” you say simply.

He tells you goodnight with a fond mumble of your name as you shut the bedroom door behind you. Rubbing your eyes, you yawn before turning off the lights and heading to bed yourself, trying to block out the events that had just taken place.

Your head aches when you wake up the next morning, and you feel like garbage, so you can only imagine how much worse Mark must be doing. Quickly chugging a water bottle, you reluctantly go to knock on his door, hearing a pained groan once you enter. He’s sitting up, chin resting in one hand and the other anchored onto the heavy comforter covering his legs.

“How are you feeling?” The obvious question with an even more obvious answer makes Mark wince. “Awful.”

“Sorry.” It’s silent for a moment, Mark pressing three fingers to his throbbing forehead and you staring aimlessly at the wall. “I knew that eggnog was a bad idea.”

“You were the one that told me to try it!”

“I didn't know it had alcohol in it!”

You sigh, dejected. Something tells Mark that your head isn’t the only thing hurting.

“Hey, I know that look. What’s wrong?” He prods, voice soft and gentle and altogether unlike how it had been last night. You meet his eyes for a moment, about to speak but biting your lip at the last second. Mark’s brain puts two and two together at your expression.

“Oh god, did I say something? Do something?”

“Yeah, actually,” you reply in a huff. “First you kissed my neck, then you told me you loved me, and then you held up a clump of mistletoe and implied that we should kiss underneath it.”

His memories of the previous evening are all a blur, so he truly would have no idea what happened if you hadn’t just said something. Mark knows he screwed up, bad.

You tense when you feel him place his hand over yours, but you don’t snatch it away. After collecting his thoughts, Mark clears his throat.

“Look, I… I know that’s not the best way for you to find out how someone feels about you. But I’m completely sober, and I can tell you that I meant what I said last night.”

“You promise?”

“Promise,” Mark replies.

“...Can you say it again, then?”

He blushes, “That I…?”

You nod, the corners of your lips lifting into a small smile.

“I love you,” Mark tells you for the second time in the last 24 hours, but this time you know you can believe him. The pain of your hangover goes away for a moment as he takes your jaw in his hands and connects your lips, just barely retaining the buzz of the alcohol but not enough to bother you. Slowly you kiss him back, sinking down onto the mattress beside him.

Mark pulls away for air a few seconds later, thumb grazing your cheek lovingly. “Does this mean we’re—”

“Dating? If you want it to, then sure,” your finger traces swirly shapes on the small of his back while you assure him that neither of you need to rush into anything if you aren’t ready.

“I don’t want things to change, though.”

“Who said they have to? I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and we’re already pretty close, you know? Making it ‘official’ doesn’t necessarily mean ‘different,’ so...”

Mark hums in agreement, “You’re right. Okay, I can live with that.”

“And I can’t live another second without food. I’m making breakfast,” you quip, reverting back to the usual banter between you and him.

“I’ll cook the eggs,” Mark insists as you both make your way out of his bedroom and into the kitchen.

“You absolutely will not!”

The night before Christmas had started out unlike any that you’d ever experienced before, with you confronting your now-boyfriend about a drunken love confession the previous day. But now, it’s ending just like every year, with you cozy and curled up in front of the television as the last few segments of the news play.

It’s the coldest Christmas Eve in years. You learned this after the meteorologist had informed viewers of the record only a few minutes earlier, inadvertently planting an idea in Mark’s mind.

Right as you’re about to turn in for the night, setting a plate of decorated cookies and a glass of milk down on the end table (as is tradition in your families, no matter how old you are), Mark holds out his arms like a child might. “Can we…?” He asks in a quiet voice, nervous to finish his sentence.

“Huh?”

The boy inhales sharply, “It’s freezing. Do you wanna sleep in my bed tonight?” His cheeks flush a deep red that’s almost the color of Christmas itself.

You’re slightly taken aback, and then you remember it’s just Mark. “Sure, why not,” you answer with a light shrug and a smile on your face.

“But no funny business,” you inform him as you climb under the sheets together, instantly happy with your choice to join him because double the people means double the body heat. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Mark replies, pecking your lips. His wrist finds the warm skin of your neck and you flinch away.

“Your hands are cold!” He just snickers at your whining.

The two of you fall asleep more quickly than you ever have on Christmas Eve, usually overcome with nerves and excitement, but now, as two college-aged kids, you’re comfortable and not rushing the morning’s arrival at all, content in each other’s arms for the moment.

You feel like you’re 10 years old again as you rush into the living room at 8am the next day, the bright, early morning sky lighting up your entire apartment. At the base of your Christmas tree sits a humble amount of presents, composed of the two that you bought for each other plus the half-dozen small ones from your parents.

You hand Mark one of the cookies from the end table and grab one for yourself, taking a bite of the sweet treat as you sit down and motioning for him to do the same.

“Open yours first,” you say eagerly, referring to your gift for him. Mark shakes his head and points to what he got you, “No, you go first.”

“Fine, we’ll open them at the same time.” Mark nods, satisfied with the compromise and handing you both the packages.

“On three. One, two…”

The final number barely leaves your lips before you both begin tearing into the paper excitedly, Mark reaching for the flaps on the box and you unfolding the tissue paper.

When you each see what the other gifted you with, it’s completely silent, save for the TV playing a Christmas Day special in the background.

He gazes blankly at you, licking his lips as his eyes dart between the guitar case and your expression.

“I appreciate the gift, but I…” Mark pauses, unsure how to tell you this.

You don’t say a word, raising your eyebrows as a signal for him to continue.

“I sold my guitar to pay for your gift,” he breathes.

“You what? Mark, that guitar means everything to you! Why would you do that?”

“Because you’re worth it, of course!”

“Well, I did the same thing,” you break the news with an unamused expression. “I sold my letter box to pay for that case.”

His eyes become impossibly wider at that, nearly bulging out of their sockets. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”

You groan and lie down on the floor, beyond discouraged. “Let me guess, the pawn shop on 23rd?”

“Yep.”

“Hey, wait a minute.” An idea hits Mark like a rush of cold air. “Maybe we can work out a deal or something.”

“Meaning?”

“We go back and see if we can trade in our new gifts for enough money to get our old things back.”

“One, I doubt it’s that easy, and two, pretty much everything is closed on Christmas Day.” You’re half tempted to laugh because of how ironic this situation is.

Mark sighs, “I guess that makes sense.”

“We can still try, though.”

Sure enough, the pawn shop is dark, even more so than usual, and the door doesn’t budge. A sign taped to the window from the inside confirms your fear: Closed on Christmas. Gloved hands pressed onto the glass, you and Mark admit your defeat. You had been bested by the giving spirit of the holiday season, almost too generous for your own good.

But it’s the message that the day itself stands for after all, for putting aside material value and doing something out of the kindness of your heart just to make someone else happy. That’s what it’s all about, and you and Mark had personally experienced it this year.

So you’re surprised to find two boxes leaning on the wall beside the door to your apartment the next morning, shapes oddly familiar. Could it be?

Just hours earlier, the hallway surveillance cameras caught a tall man striding down the corridor, carrying those exact packages under his arms. In the video he pulls out a scrap of paper and a pen from his coat pocket, scribbling a short message before tucking it underneath the ribbon of the larger parcel and leaving the building just as quickly as he came.

You and Mark’s only clue as to who had returned your items is a messy ‘J’ at the end of the note attached to the box containing his guitar. Exchanging knowing glances, you both grin, squeezing your intertwined hands with the same name in mind.

...So what if Johnny had to take a bit of money out of his own paycheck to cover the cost of the items? Besides, it’s Christmas. And his boss never has to know.