#and maybe i’m on edge bc he only visits during holidays and holidays never go well for home

[lilgynt]

i will sob my brains out at 5 am remembering events from this year and also christmas last year and being annoyingly petty and unable to let go of relatively small comments just bc i’m sensitive and raw and have a complex

[rosy-wooyoung]

[12:31]

🎄 Day 11 of the Christmas project🎄

pairing : san x fem!reader a/n: ngl i’m quite happy with this one. maybe bc it’s kinda personal? idk

You had just arrived at the cottage you inherited from your grandparents when they passed away, and, after driving for so long, you were happy to finally cut the engine. Months had passed since you last visited this small house filled with beautiful memories, and you had this strange feeling of happiness mixed with nostalgia overrunning in your body. The cottage was a small wooden house at the edge of the forest next to a lake, now frozen, the ground and the naked and lonely looking branches of the trees surrounding it covered in snow. You parked your car in the driveway and slightly shook your best friend's shoulder to wake him from his slumber. After a few minutes of constantly shaking him, San finally stirred up, softly rubbing his eyes as he looked around him.

"Are we already here?" he mumbled and you bitterly chuckled, unbuckling your seat belt and opened the door. "What do you mean already? You've been sleeping since we stopped at the gas station. It's been two hours dude," You poked his ribs before stepping out. San shook his head and got out of the car as well a few seconds later, letting out a sigh before helping you clear the trunk filled with things to get comfortable enough for the long weekend you had planned to stay together. 

The end of the year was coming, so that meant a lot of things to do at work: closing cases, checking details before sending files to your boss, preparing some others for the new year, it was everything but calm when you entered your workspace each morning. Fortunately, you had worked quite hard during the week, so today before lunch, San and you took your leave of work and hurried to your car, getting ready for a few hours of driving to get to this beautiful place where you had just arrived.

"Gosh, I've missed this place so badly," you said as you looked around you, eyes roaming as you observed the trees and your surroundings. You started getting a bit emotional as you recalled the hazy yet wonderful memories you had collected while growing up until it was time for them to leave.  

You remembered spending some of your Summer holidays here with your siblings when your parents grew "tired" of the three of you. They always claimed to need a break from being parents for at least a week, and so did you from them. When you were at your grandparents' house, more fun was allowed than when you were at home. It was an exciting feeling, and you were always looking forward to coming and visiting them at every opportunity you had. You never truly minded because you loved your grandparents and spending time with them. But for your younger siblings, it was a whole other story: they were constantly yelling about missing mom and dad, while you were just loving being there, catching up with your granddad

You had your little secrets with him, things that you hid from your family and your siblings. For example, you and your grandfather would secretly take two easels, always feeling that rush of adrenaline before escaping from the yells of your siblings to find a good spot to start painting for a major part of the day, hidden in the mountains hovering above the cottage. Each time, you came back from your getaway with a brand new piece of art, and a memory to cherish for the years to come. You entered the cottage, and a wave of nostalgia crashed onto you, a sense of comfort wrapping its arms around your shoulders. In the dark, you could still distinguish some of the pieces of art your granddad did when you were together. You opened the shutters and drew out the curtains your grandmother had sewed by herself, making the natural sunlight warm up the place. You then went behind the house and opened the electricity and water conducts while San took care of putting all the things your truck you carry inside the small house.

"It's a gorgeous little place that you hid from me," he teased, and you gently smiled, elbowing him in the ribs as you kept on putting everything in the right place. "It's my sweet escape," you replied as your best friend rested for a few seconds in the middle of the entrance, hands on his hips as he took in the decoration of the place.

When you had some rough times in your life - which happened more often as your grandparents fell sick one after the other -, you came to this little house in secret to unwind and spend some time alone, crying or just chilling. It was a bit like your secret garden, the spot that you had indeed kept hidden from everyone. Even your parents didn't know that you frequently visited here and spend some time in nature. That's why it wasn't as dusty and dirty as one can imagine an abandoned house to look like. Yes, it was a bit straggly, but to your defence, you haven't come to this place in weeks.

As the day went by, it was finally the afternoon, and it had started snowing as soon as you finished setting in the cottage house. You were quite tired from driving for a few hours, only being used to run a few errands for maximum 20 minutes, so you just wanted to chill and maybe take a nap on the burgundy, corduroy couch. San, on the other hand, since had slept a major part of the journey there, was just a human dynamo. Looking around, all smiley and excited as he watched the snow falling from the sky.

"Do you wanna do something outside? We could make a snowman, have a snowball fight or go for a walk?" he suggested as he let himself fall next to you on the couch, tickling your side with his left hand as the other remained against his chest. You stifled a giggle and squirmed, trying to escape from his touch. He stopped for a while, his eyes lingering on you as you were getting your breath back. "And what about going sledging? I just saw that there's a hill on the other side of the lake, we can go there," your best friend offered, but you shook your head with a pout. "San, I'm too tired for all of this," you whispered, and his eyes widened, taken aback that you declined his offer, again, "and where did you even find a sledge?" you added, not even knowing that your grandparents owned one. "There was two in the small storage unit, but don't try to change the subject. Why don't you want to go sledging?" he said while sitting up, laying a hand on your knee, shaking it a bit. "It's the best thing you could do when we have a type of weather like this!" he exclaimed while pointing outside, making you sigh and as you looked out the window. Yes, it was still snowing, and it looked quite consistent enough to sledge on it, but you could see some patches of blue sky appearing here and there, telling you that the good weather wasn't as far as you thought it was.

"Come on, Y/N, just for me," he said as he watched you stifling a yawn, happy that he managed to catch sight of a small nod in your actions. "Really? Let's go then!" he enthusiastically got up, not even waiting for you to run into the bedroom to get dressed. "The things I'd do for him," you whispered to yourself as you tiredly got up from the couch, making your way up the small stairs as well. Once you had slipped on your fleece-lined pants and warm coats, you made your way out the door, San trotting to the small storage unit behind the house to get the sledges. Those were made out of old wood, a thin rope attached to the tip of it. They looked quite old and dusty, but they would do the trick.

"So Y/N, since you're the expert of the region," San teased as he looked over, only to have you staring back at him with a fake bored look, "how can we reach this side of the lake?" he said as he pointed the side opposite the cottage, and you smiled. That is where you used to go painting with your grandfather. "Come on, follow me," you said as you confidently started walking, the memories colliding in your brain as you trusted your guts to get to this side of the lake. In the course of your walk, with San by your side, you told him some of your memories while pointing at different things.

"You see that tree over there?" you gestured to the naked weeping willow a bit further into the stroll, San nodding as his eyes followed your finger, "when it was getting either too hot or too noisy because of my siblings during Summer, I'd take a book and spend the entire afternoon reading underneath that tree," you explained with a soft smile on your face, remembering the great souvenirs as the leaves crunched under your moon boots as you stopped. "And my grandma had a whistle, and she would blow four times when dinner was ready, and I needed to come back," you told your friend, who had a sincere smile on his face. "This is adorable, it sounds like a Studio Ghibli plot," he said while taking your hand, making you walk slightly faster to pass the tree. San knew you well. He knew that if you spent too much time in front of this willow, you'd start getting emotional and probably cry, and that was the last thing he wanted to see.

You silently thanked him with a faint smile as you understood his sudden change of behaviour and you cleared your throat, keeping on telling him happier souvenirs as you finally arrived where San wanted to go. "I can't imagine how beautiful it must look here in Summer," he mumbled as he stared at the cottage on the other side of the lake. "It's even more incredible in fall," you said with a smile, "I came here mid-October and you're just surrounded by yellow and orange trees, you can really feel the fall vibes," you giggled with your friend, letting go of his hand, feeling suddenly nervous. You hadn't even noticed that San had kept your hand in his the entire time, and you were even hotter when you realised that he didn't even look bothered or shy of it.

You took a few pictures of each other going down the sledge, laughing and pushing each other around as the other took an unflattering photo of the other. The powder snow eased your falls every time you pushed the other too hard, sometimes shrieking as you could feel some snow slipping under your clothes and reach your skin. At some point, you were too tired to get up, so you stayed well muffled in your clothes, looking at the sky clearing above your heads. San was also in the snow, ignoring the freezing sensation of water against his neck and the goosebumps travelling his entire body. Instead of staring at the sky as you did, he seized the fact that you were too busy getting lost in your thoughts to stare at you. He loved seeing his best friend at peace like you currently were, it looked like all of your worries had vanished as soon as you pulled up by the house, the stressed Y/N getting replaced by the one that San imagined was the Y/N of your childhood.

The young man shifted in the snow, close enough for his hand to grab yours. As you felt pressure on your glove, you turned your head to the side, looking at him. He was already looking at you with a fond smile decorating his lips, and you raised your eyebrows, silently asking him why he was staring at you like that.

"I wish for this moment to never end," he spoke softly, the density of the snow under you two muffling his words, only for you to hear. "Me neither," you uttered, and San squeezed your hand as an answer, shooting you a wink before looking at the sky like you did just moments ago. He felt your gaze on him, and he started rolling towards you, miscalculating the number of rolls he had to do to come near you, resulting him almost crushing you as he was about to land on his back. You clutched your abdomen, anticipating his weight landing on you, but he swiftly moved around to land on his stomach, his mouth arriving millimetres away from yours.

None of you recoiled, getting lost in the other's eyes. Your breath had quickened up, something going noticed by San. He gulped but kept staring at you, your breaths forming one trail of steam above your heads, unhurriedly vanishing in the atmosphere. San pulled his thoughts and doubts to the side for an instant, his mouth colliding with yours in the gentlest way possible. Despite the dryness of his lips, the kiss released millions of butterflies in your stomach, sending warmth straight to your face. With your mittens slightly covered in snow, you cupped his face, and he groaned into the kiss, the cold against his face attempting to bring him back to reality.

But it wasn't enough to make you two stop kissing each other. You had both been secretly waiting for this for too long, and you didn't want to end the kiss right now. Making the most of it was the key point of the situation, and you let your lips linger on San's as if it was the last time before pulling away. The man gave you mere seconds to catch your breath before pulling you in another kiss, your hearts beating furiously against each other as your tongues danced together, head spinning and getting mushy due to all the emotions you were experiencing.

[steebpark]

INTRODUCING STEVEN… @gallagherintro​​

⌠ SEO KANG JOON, 22, CISMALE, HE/HIS ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, STEVEN PARK! according to their records, they’re a SECOND year, specializing in PROTECTION AND ENFORCEMENT + COVERT OPS; and they DID go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of (everyday funeral attire, sharp and vigilant eyes, rehearsed smiles, scribbles over sheet music, a jar of sourdough starter). when it’s the (leo)’s birthday on 16/08/1998, they always request their HANWOO from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation.

INSPO:

tadashi hamada

kim je ha (the k2)

robb stark (?) not

moon gang-tae

BIO:

hundy p inspired by it’s okay not to be okay dnt look at me

tw abelism, death, suicide, 

born into the crazy park fam *dj khaled vc* another one !!! 

grew up in seoul. sang woo is his korean name. he’s always gone by steven because the parks are just those kind of koreans. ( nicknames : steve, stevie )

he has an older brother of two years called andrew. he was born autistic.

the sole reason for steve being born was to look after andrew, so they didn’t have to, and to be groomed into an heir. they deemed andrew unworthy to be an heir and unfit to compete with rose and jude.

this fact was made known to him as a child. so, whilst he was the younger sibling, he had to quickly grow into this protective role. steve’s life mostly revolved around andrew. 

despite this, he’s always been a bit too soft for a park, used to be a massive cry baby, which is probably why his relationship with andrew has always been strong enough to get through the shitty times 

the park family would force the new generation to compete against each other, so the cousins were never that close, but there was an unspoken understanding of how fucked up their families were. however, due to all of this responsibility, steve didn’t care to compete with his cousins as he got older which forced his parents to become stricter.

they could only get him in line by messing with andrew because steve never cared for money and has always hated everything that comes with the park name. 

it only worked to an extent: toughed him up but they couldn’t quite mould him into what they needed him to be. his rebellion wasn’t a loud one, quite the opposite, which made it harder for them to control

anyway

rose dies. it rocks the family, most notably jude. he regrets not trying harder to reach out when she spiralled.

shortly after, his girlfriend disappears. parents offered her money and she took it. very kdrama i know. but they needed him to focus.

doesn’t want anything to do with the park legacy and tries to file for emancipation. the mere threat of it is enough for his parents to listen because they don’t want it getting out and damaging their reputation so they come to an agreement: he’s free !!

at 16, he’s independent -- not entirely as they paid for prep school -- and he transfers to the school in england, hoping for anonymity and a fresh start: no jude, no fam friends. never returned to seoul, cut ties with people from the past. took andrew with him.

obviously struggles in england. didn’t expect it to be easy but it’s A Lot so he eventually becomes involved with Shady Brandt work on top of all of his side gigs 

takes a gap year and works his ass awf. saves up. but brother dies in an accident. it’s accidental but he believes his parents orchestrated it. they didn’t. shit happens.

completes his first year at a spy college in england. returns to korea for mandatory military service which is a nice break from all the shady shit. 

the brandts reaches out to steve about a job -- gigi brandt’s protector. he’s hesitant because of the brandt’s connections to the parks but he takes it because it’s good pay and he plans on disappearing after college.

as much as he wants to detach himself from the park name, when he heard about elise, and then jude, the emotions he felt were overwhelming. so he doesn’t attend elise’s wedding or jude’s funeral. visits them both separately.

dreading gallagher because, well, the park name is everywhere and they have a bit of a reputation. feels like coming around full circle.

PERSONALITY

the Well-Adjusted Park ; Dad Jokes

not materialistic in the slightest -- steve says asos 5 pack save.

will be adding a few inches to his height bc it apart of his Gentle Giant trope uwu 

has a resting bitch face so first impressions might be bad tho he’s aware of this and is quick to smile as to not put anyone on edge

strong moral code but also has done some shady shit so maybe he’s a hypocrite

not confrontational, prefers to quickly dissolve situations as peacefully as possible. would rather avoid conflict. pretty desensitised to displays of aggression so hard to get a rise out of him.

weird posh boy hobbies: bread baking, jigsaw puzzles, piano, compose, lego, fixing clocks ... u get the gist. calm and solitary activities that involves hands and attention to detail. 

nice, friendly etc. etc. but difficult to form Deep n Meaningful friendships. has a bit of a wall which he’s working on. but maybe not since he’s planning on Poofing. idk i’m still figuring him out lads<3

WC

fam friends: steve most likely would’ve cut them off when he moved to england

prep school: people he knows from new york or england. he had a glow up tho so maybe your character doesn’t recognise him. embarrassing. 

landan: people he met in london! he had Normal Ppl jobs and pretended to be a Normal Person during the holidays. 

humuhumunukunukuāpuaʻa: someone who triggers him, intentionally or unintentionally? maybe they just like to make his job as difficult as possible.

head thots no empty ... will add more lata</3

[legacysam]

It’s a day late for the fic challenge with @fieryfurniss, but it’s almost 3k instead of like... 500 so I think I’m okay with that. Completely unedited bc I am TIRED and I want to at least draft today’s fic before bed so I’m not TOO far behind. Anyway I have feelings about season 4 Martin, enjoy:

[SOUND OF SHUFFLING PAPERS]

MARTIN

Oh. Oh, hello. Suppose you’re all ready, aren’t you? Do you... I mean, we’re going to record the statements, it’s kind of what we do around here. You don’t have to keep turning up all spooky-like and turning yourselves on, we aren’t that bad at our jobs. I mean, not that performance reviews are... standard here, but still.

Do you just, do you enjoy it? Do you... I dunno, feed on this stuff? Eventually going to evolve into a, a boombox or something, like a tape recorder pokemon?

No. No, I suppose not. Probably for the best. Only just starting to get used to you at this size...

[CLEARS THROAT]

Alright, so. Martin Blackwood, assistant to Peter Lukas, Head of the Magnus Institute, recording statement #0070105. Statement of Marina Adamos, given first of May, 2007.

Statement begins.

MARTIN (STATEMENT)

It started in January, right after I got back from my parents’. Or, maybe a week or so after. Came back right after Christmas, it was just too much in that awful little house will the whole family there, all the nieces and nephews and my gran going on about why didn’t I have kids yet, all those people and since I’m the single one, I got the couch for the duration, might as well have booked a hotel really. In any case, got through the holiday, answered all the usual questions, took the dog for a lot of long walks, and got out of there as soon as I decently could.

I don’t mean to sound awful, I love my family, I do. I just get used to the quiet here, in my own place, and when we’re all together it’s a bit... overwhelming.

In any case, I was back in Exeter, getting good and settled in for the rest of winter. I’ve been writing my doctoral thesis, and I’d been at it for... god, must be four years now, four and a half maybe? And I finally got a grant to just sit down and write for a year. No teaching, no committees, just me and the thesis and field trips to a few of my favorite archives. Not this one, sorry. Don’t think I’d even heard of this one until last week.

Anyway, I suppose there was part of me that... I don’t know, maybe missed home? Had some lingering feelings about home, anyway, made my flat seem too empty to get proper work done, and I thought a change of scene might be helpful to get my gears going again after the break. There’s a cafe on the corner across from my flat, one of those that’s coffee during the day and wine and beer at night, can’t miss a chance at getting all the university students in for their various vices. Vices including poetry, apparently.

I didn’t know it was an open mic, obviously, or I never would have stepped foot in the place. Awful tradition, listening to nineteen-year-olds go on about being hopelessly in love as if anybody you date at that age is some grand romance. I almost preferred the angry feminist ones about getting felt up on the tube. I’d already dragged my notebooks over there, though, and in fairness the wine was really good, so I stayed. I had a table at the side, well out of mic-range, and once I got started working I could tune it out alright. I think the only thing that interrupted me was somebody asking if they could take one of the chairs from my table, which was great, actually. Kept anybody from being tempted to join me.

It was maybe an hour or two later that one of the readers got my attention. I still can’t figure out why. He was nothing special, just some nervous, chubby lad whose friends must’ve had to shove him up onstage, because he looked absolutely mortified being there. Though thinking back, I don’t remember seeing anybody he seemed to be with. Nobody cheering him on or anything. Dunno, maybe he was just braver than he looked.

I don’t remember much about the poem he read. It was long, I know that. But there was a bit in there that I don’t think I’ll ever forget. I don’t think I can forget it. He wasn’t looking at me when he read it, but it felt like he was standing at my table reading directly at me, like there was nobody else in the room, and not in a romantic way. In a really scary way, like when you accidentally make eye contact with somebody who’s been staring at you. But he was just looking at his notebook, and he said, “the winter snow that falls at night will cover us in purest white. The sun that comes at break of day will melt the snow and us away.”

It was spooky, I don’t think it fit with the rest of the poem, but I don’t remember any of that. Just those lines. I’m not a nervous sort of person, but I didn’t want to hear anymore, I just got up and left. I sat on my couch the rest of the night watching outside, waiting to see if it snowed. I don’t... I don’t remember seeing the guy leave the cafe, though. I don’t remember seeing anybody leave, but I must have fallen asleep at some point, so maybe that’s why.

I knew I’d been asleep because when I looked outside again, there was snow on the ground. A lot of it, and it was still snowing hard, and all I could think was “the winter snow that falls at night...” I could have strangled the guy, to be honest. Maybe if I’d seen him again I would have, or at least given him a piece of my mind about his creepy poetry.

Anyway I don’t know if it was his fault, what happened. Maybe it was all in my head from the start. That’s what anybody I tell seems to think, anyway. “Oh, poor Marina, the thesis pressure got to her. Such a shame.” Maybe it’s better if they think that.

I didn’t... I didn’t go out again until late the next day. It never got properly light, anyway, just that sort of glowy grey you get when street lights bounce off the snow and clouds. I stayed in and tried to work. It was... maybe 3 or 4 in the afternoon before I checked my phone. It was weird, normally I got loads of texts and things from my parents after I left from a visit, like they were trying to make it longer, you know? But I hadn’t gotten any. No missed calls, either. Everything was just... quiet. It didn’t worry me, I just figured with the snow people were taking a day off and curling up on the couch and not doing anything. I certainly wasn’t, kept reading the same passages over and over. That damn poem kept getting tangled up in them, I’d try to copy something out and find myself writing about snow and people melting.

Late in the afternoon I decided to go for a walk. Quit being a chicken about it and go out in the snow, see everything was normal and all that. And it was. I walked by houses and saw the lights on in the windows, shops were open with people behind the counters, just nobody shopping, really. It looked like I was the only one out, but that’s fair enough in a snowstorm, isn’t it?

So I went home and watched some reality cooking show until I fell asleep.

It was... different when I woke up. Still no messages on my phone. I was starting to think there was something wrong with it, so I opened up my contacts to call somebody and test it and... there was nothing. No contacts. No old messages. Just like as if the phone was brand new. I still know my dad’s number, of course, so I punched it in to call him but it just rang and rang, never went to voicemail. Mum’s too. It had to be broken, right? Factory reset or something, took it back to before it was programmed to make calls properly maybe? I told myself that anyway, though saying it now it sounds stupid.

I put the phone in my pocket and went to look out the window and... the snow was gone. I don’t mean it was melting, I mean it was sunny out and the street was dry. The sidewalks were dry. There wasn’t even any of that grey-yellow slush in the grass by the road, nothing. Like there hadn’t been any snow or rain or anything in days. And there was nobody out.

I told you, I don’t spook easily, I’m not nervous, but I was getting nervous then. Just a low level sort of adrenaline, I was not panicking, I was just... everything was weird and I still had that poem stuck in my head, and I wanted to make sure it was all just some fucked up coincidence, you know?

So I went to the cafe. It was the only thing I could think to do. I think I told myself I was going to borrow their phone, but I don’t think that was really the plan. I think I was looking for... evidence. Evidence of something.

There was nobody in the streets. Nobody. Not in cars, nobody in their yards. I couldn’t even see anyone through the windows. It was like everyone had left without me. Even the cafe, which should have been packed on a day like that, there was nobody. The door was unlocked and the lights were on, but I couldn’t find a single person. I tried to call my parents again. No answer.

I did find the open mic sign up from that night, though. They kept those in a binder by the register. I didn’t recognize any of the names, but I kept it anyway. You can have it, it just spooks me carrying it around, but I couldn’t think what else to do with it.

I don’t... I’m not sure I can properly explain how I felt in that moment. I stole a scone. Didn’t even think twice, just took it out of the case. Definitely tasted like it had been in there more than a day, but it didn’t really register with me. I sat in the window like that for ages, watching the street, just cold. I was thinking about how big whatever this was might be. Was I the only person left in Exeter? In Devon? Was it bigger than that? Had I missed an evacuation notice, was there some natural disaster coming? I’m not religious, but I had a school friend who was, and I wondered if maybe I was the only one terrible enough to be given a miss at the rapture. I was desperate to find something, some explanation, something sensible that would put the world back on track.

That was when I noticed the water in the street. Just a bit at the edge where something hadn’t drained properly, and it looked like it was moving. I went out to see, and it... Listen this is going to sound mad, and I’m sorry, but you’re just going to have to take my word for it that it’s true. It was... there were hands in the water. I don’t mean like physical hands, I mean it was as if people were standing over the water waving at it, and it just made waves of reflections of hands. It wasn’t trees, or clouds, or me, it was in the water. That was when I started to run.

I was in and out of shops, went in and out of people’s houses, through yards, everywhere I could think where people should be. I went to the university and opened every office and classroom door in the Washington Singer building. My advisor’s desk had a cup of tea on it, like she’d just stepped out, but it was stone cold and there was a ring above the tea like it had been sat there a while. She practically lives in that office. Something about that, that damn cup of tea, that broke me a little.

I didn’t know where to go. I sat on the steps outside and just watched the empty world. There were birds and things just like there always were, but there was no movement that could possibly be a person. No sound like a human voice. I think... I started to think about whether I ought to go home, barricade myself in and hope that people came back, or if it would be better to go looking. I didn’t have a car, but my landlady did. I knew where she kept her keys and everything. It wasn’t as if she was using it.

I laughed at that. I don’t know why, but I started laughing, sitting there all alone on campus, laughing at the idea of stealing my sweet old landlady’s car. I’d have to leave a note, I thought. She’d think she just forgot where she parked it and she’d go mad looking for it. If she came back. If that water...

I think I tried to ignore what I’d seen in the water, and the way the snow melted, and that damn poem. It was still in my mind, but I had closed off that part of it because it wasn’t helpful. It wasn’t helpful to think that maybe some stammering undergraduate with a terrible poem had somehow magicked the world into...whatever this was. I can’t remember how I locked it all away, but I remember walking down the street toward home just... muttering to myself. “No, no, no...” The kind of muttering that makes you look crazy to passersby. But of course there weren’t any. I could say whatever I liked and no one would know. I could stay in my flat for a week and no one would bother me to come out with them. I could ignore my phone and not miss any messages from my parents. They always worried if I took too long to answer them.

I yelled “FUCK” once, in the middle of one of the bigger intersections, just to see how loud I could be. It hurt my throat how loud I could scream.

I wonder if that was what did it, actually. Looking back, it was right after that that I saw the dog. I don’t know how that would make a difference, but it makes as much sense as anything. Just a glimpse, but I could see a tail and a trailing leash going around a corner a block away, and without thinking I started to follow.

I’d already done a lot of walking and running that day, but I think that was the fastest I’d ever gone in my life. All I could hear were my feet hitting the pavement, and then I started to hear the sound of tags on a collar. And then he was in sight, a big lab like my parents’, running full out, tail wagging like he was playing his favorite game. I didn’t think I could possibly catch him, but I kept going, because what choice did I have? I chased him through yards and parks and down empty streets, and when I finally got close enough, just as he was about to zig zag away again, I threw myself on the ground and got hold of the leash. I still have a scar from my elbow hitting the sidewalk.

It was... like when you unpause a movie and it’s not just that the world starts moving again, it’s like something that was just a picture becomes alive again. I heard a voice behind me, and a woman pulled up in a minivan thanking me for catching her dog, the kids were so upset when he got away from them. And then the kids were there, piling out of the van, and a lady came out of the house we were in front of and offered me a bandage for my arm. There was traffic again, I could hear music from a couple streets over. It was all back.

I didn’t go to the cafe again. I just... couldn’t. I couldn’t risk it. Whatever happened to me, wherever I was that day, I knew it all started there. I wasn’t going to give it a chance to get me again.

I don’t... I don’t know if this is helpful for you, I don’t really know what you do here aside from collect creepy stories, but I just. When I heard about you I felt like I should tell you my story, maybe get it off my hands. I’ve got things I want to do with my life, you know? Time to stop thinking about all this. Time to let it go.

Statement ends.

MARTIN

[LONG PAUSE]

The... the list from the cafe is here. It’s... I... yes. Yes, my name is on it and yes, I used to go read there, but this isn’t... I don’t recognize those lines, I didn’t write them. I didn’t... I wasn’t...

I think I need to talk to Peter about this. I don’t want to. If the Lonely was... I don’t think I want to know. I don’t want to have been... I dunno, destined for this. I don’t want any of it. I...

[DEEP BREATH]

I... I’ll ask Melanie if she can do the follow up on this one. I think she’ll understand.

End... end recording.

[mysticmylifeisamess-enger]

Forget Me Not - Ch. 18

Pairing: Saeran/Reader

Word count: 1,271

Summary: From the perspective of Yoosung

Warning: Spoilers for Ray route, Saeyoung’s route & secret ending.

A/N: I finished this instead of planning a lesson for my students tomorrow so yall better appreciate this chapter bc my kids are going to have a lab day tomorrow instead bc of this acfghvb I also reeeeeeally wanted this done bc the next few chapters are going to be juicy

Context references (if you need them): Starts from the middle-ish of ch. 15 (when the twins part ways for the day) & the customer mentioned is the same one from ch. 5′s day 5 sequence

AO3 Link | Chapters Masterlist

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Yoosung★ has entered the chatroom

Yoosung★: Saeran just called and asked me to water the plants in the shop for the next few days, Yoosung★: and they still have yet to come on the messenger since the party;;; Yoosung★: Has anyone heard from them in the last few days?? ZEN: Not a word… ZEN: But they didn’t mention why they’ve been away or why you have to go to the shop for them?? Yoosung★: They didn’t. Yoosung★: I tried to ask but he dodged the question. Yoosung★: I hope they’re okay…

Rika has entered the chatroom

ZEN: Rika! Have you heard from the twins?? Yoosung★: Do you know if they’re alright? Rika: They’re fine. Rika: Just a little overwhelmed, Rika: they did have a lot of work during the party so I advised them to take a few days off. Rika: I’m sure they’ll be back soon. ZEN: But it’s not like them to stay so quiet. ZEN: Saeyoung especially;;; Yoosung★: And for so many days? Rika: I know it seems a little weird, but believe me… Rika: They’re doing alright. Rika: Everyone needs a break once in a while!

Yoosung contemplated her words, wondering how recent that talk could have been when he just heard Saeran. He didn’t sound fine at all over the phone. He sounded anxious and entirely on edge, the definition of racked nerves. To hear the exact opposite, especially from someone so close to them, only drew more questions.

ZEN: I guess… ZEN: I’m still a little concerned, ZEN: but there’s not much I can do if they aren’t answering calls or texts. ZEN: The next best thing would be stopping by for a visit… Rika: You don’t need to do that. Rika: They’re fine! Rika: I’ll even talk to them again tonight to make sure. ZEN: Alright… ZEN: Let me know if they need anything.

ZEN has left the chatroom

Yoosung★: Rika? Rika: …Yes?

His fingers froze, pausing as he thought over carefully how to ask.

Yoosung★: You wouldn’t... Yoosung★: You wouldn’t lie to me, right? Rika: Of course not! Rika: Why would you ask such a thing?? Yoosung★: No reason. Yoosung★: I really do trust you... Yoosung★: You’ve never given me a reason not to, Yoosung★: but I’m just worried. Rika: Worried about what?

He froze once again, truly unsure of how to answer.

Yoosung★: Forget I said anything. Yoosung★: I should get going actually, Yoosung★: Saeran made it clear that I needed to water the plants first thing in the morning. Yoosung★: Something about how it’ll retain more water… Rika: Yoosung… Yoosung★: Yes? Rika: Just know that I’ve only done what I have for everyone’s best interest, including your own. Rika: I would never hurt a member of the RFA, Rika: But most importantly, I wouldn’t hurt you. Rika: You’re the closest to family I have… Rika: So just remember that I’m always looking out for your best interest. Rika: Even if it seems unconventional or harmful.

Rika has left the chatroom

Yoosung read over the messages again and again, equally as perplexed each time. As caring as the words seemed, the last message threw him off completely. Though he noticed this wasn’t the first time she left the chat with words that could make anyone’s skin crawl, he never thought that he’d be on the receiving end of one.

~

The shop felt different upon entering. Any time Yoosung had been here, it was vibrant with color and alive with the smell of fresh-cut flowers. As warm and inviting as the two that ran the shop.

And maybe it was the cold, bitter air at the crack of dawn or the lightless and empty space, but it felt eerie to be there. A whole different atmosphere with the vague impression that something had happened here. Something that made it as dark and unsettling as it was.

As fast as he unlocked the door and came in was as fast as he watered the plants and closed up shop once again. It was a race to leave before anything in the air could sink in. Upon locking, he looked up to read the sign above the shop, as if making sure he was at the right place.

“Excuse me young man,” a delicate voice coming from behind him pulled him out of his thoughts, turning as he finished locking up to meet eyes with an elderly woman.

“Is the shop closed today?” She asked with a bit of hesitancy. He could already see the disappointment in her stare before he could speak, a small amount of guilt flushing him to having the response he did.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Yoosung replied earnestly, “I’m only here to tend to the flowers in the owner’s absence.”

“Are Saeran and Saeyoung away on vacation?”

“You could say that,” he said, taken aback that she knew them by name, “though I think it’s more of a break. Some time away from work.”

“Saeran is not one for taking such long breaks. They don’t even close on holidays,” she said, “Do you know when they’ll be back?”

“I’m actually not sure, but hopefully it’ll be soon,” Yoosung said, unsure of what else to say.

“I hope so too. And hopefully Saeran’s girlfriend has been keeping him company in all this,” she sighed, looking back at him with a sincere smile, “Well you let them know their favorite regular, Mrs. Kym, is thinking about them, okay?”

All Yoosung could do was smile and nod, watching as she walked off in her direction. He didn’t even consider where you could be in all this until you were mentioned. With how dearly Saeran held you in regards, he’d assume that the two of you were talking through this disappearance, but he couldn’t truly know.

All he truly knew was what Rika had disclosed: they’re fine. Though the uncertainty he was feeling about that statement didn’t leave him entirely confident in her words. As badly was he wanted to blindly trust her, he also knew something wasn’t right.

It couldn’t hurt to see for himself, settling on Zen’s suggestion of stopping by one of the twins’ place before class. If one twin was more prone to talking, he knew it had to be Saeyoung.

~

The door to his bunker always sent a shiver down Yoosung’s spine. A steel protectant from the outside world that perfectly hid him away. He always sited having such a set up was for security purposes, always leaving Yoosung with the same question: ‘Why would a florist need so much protection?’

Taking a deep breath, as if building the confidence, he knocked on the door three times; each louder than the last. The cold morning air finally reached his nose as he waited, causing him to shift on his feet uncomfortably. With every passing second, he could feel a small fit of worry surface until he knocked a few more times, being sure to knock extra hard.

As early as it was, he was also aware that Saeyoung would usually be on the messenger around this time, boasting about the all-nighter he just pulled. A regular occurrence that would make it hard to believe he’s not awake in this moment. Looking down at the time on his phone, he slumped his shoulders with a breathy sigh.

Yoosung★ has entered the chatroom

Yoosung★: I just stopped by Saeyoung’s… Yoosung★: And they’re not even answering the doors now?? Yoosung★: I’ll try to visit Saeran later, I have to get to class now Yoosung★: But if anyone hears from them, let me know…

Yoosung★ has left the chatroom

[eliancs-blog]

*itzy  vc*  hey  hey  hey   !   (  i  see  that  i’m  icy  )   what’s  up,  i’m  diana,  i’m  nineteen,  and  i’m  ur  resident  girl  group  stan.  i  reside  in  the  est  timezone  &  go  by  the  pronouns  she/her.  now,  finally  introducing  …  loona   !!    jk,  her  name  is  eliana  &  u  can  read  about  her  under  the  cut   !  (  stream  norman  fucking  rockwell <3  ) 

﹤ park jiwon, she/her, cisfemale ﹥; * - hello eliana ‘lia’ wu. long time no see. i know a lot about you. like how you’re twenty, how you’re a european studies major, and in fact.. how you’re the face of your parents church but are hiding the fact that you’re anything but innocent---and that you got kicked out of your catholic university for having an affair with your professor. would be a shame if it got out, wouldn’t it ? so let’s play a game. * TRUTH OR DARE ?

(    𝑩𝑨𝑪𝑲𝑮𝑹𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑫.   )

born on october 12th in blacksburg, virginia, eliana’s first impression of the world was a crisp autumn day

she was her parents first and only child and soon became their pride and joy. her parents both came from wealthy families and dedicated their lives to the catholic church they owned

so, eliana grew up around the church and was raised catholic. her parents made her the face of their church. she was the perfect choice, dripping with innocence and purity

eliana learned at a fairly young age the corruption that ensued behind the scenes, behind her parents backs. growing up, she often spent her afternoons at the church. while her parents were off trying to grow their following, eliana was left alone at the church to observe bribery, adultery, and so much more

she was a ghost of a girl; most of the time, people had no idea she was there. they made it easy for her to learn all their secrets

eliana was sent to catholic boarding school for all her years of schooling. at boarding school, she worked her way up the chain of command through bribery, manipulation and blackmail.

she would leave for the majority of the year for school and return during the holidays and for summer break. she would take annual summer trips to europe visiting extended family, staying mainly in italy and france. eliana grew to love europe, she wished she could live there forever

with both catholic school and the church being corrupt, eliana had little faith in the religion and most of the people who followed it. she felt like they were either hypocrites hiding behind a facade, or naively unaware cowards that needed something to believe in. she fell into the first category, while her parents fell into the second. eliana felt sorry for her parents and continued to act like the perfect little church girl for their sake (and for their money, of course)

eliana grew to be quite a selfish person, at least almost everything she did was in her own self interest. if she had nothing to gain, she didn’t see a point in entertaining things. while eliana masqueraded herself as being a charitable, altruistic person, she was quite the opposite

during her high school years at catholic school, eliana began using coke. with pressure from her parents to excel in her classes, extracurricular’s, and volunteer work, she needed something to take the edge off. it started as something she did now and then, though eventually she began to grew addicted (yes, she has the coke cross like kathryn from cruel intentions)

also while away at catholic school, eliana began to experiment with other things. she discovered she had a sexual and romantic interest in girls and guys and started to explore it. although her parents demanded she remain a virgin until marriage, eliana didn’t quite follow those rules, though she kept up the image. her sexual partners and romantic relations were kept on the low for the most part in order to maintain her perfect image

she discovered that sex was just another thing she could use to manipulate others and for her own self interest. after high school, eliana went on to attend a catholic university. during her first semester, she began to have an affair with one of her professors

usually the one in control, eliana found herself recklessly falling for her professor. for him, it was just lust, but for her it felt like more. one day, her private affair became public among some and eliana was kicked out of the university to avoid a scandal

this was bad news for eliana, who had to come up with a way to hide her expulsion from her parents and continue an education elsewhere. the following semester, eliana continued to pretend to attend the catholic university but later decided to tell her parents about transferring to UVA

she came up with a lie about the school having a better program for her major and promised to continue her biblical studies outside of class. reluctantly, her parents allowed it. they trusted her. she was their perfect daughter, after all

so, eliana continued her education at UVA after blackmailing her old school for a dazzling letter of recommendation

eliana is studying european studies, with the desire of eventually moving to france. she is enamored with the art, history, literature, cinema, and the food. honestly, eliana does not want to do anything for a living and is hoping to live off her trust fund and the money she would eventually inherit from her parents, but she loves learning and going to school and bettering her education

(    𝑷𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑶𝑵𝑨��𝑰𝑻𝒀.   )

eliana is a libra sun scorpio moon (the rest of her placements are tbd)

if u click the link, u can read more about what that means but even the label attached to that combination itself is super fitting for her --- the ‘masquerader’

eliana is not a mean person by any means, but a lot of what she does is in her own self interest. she considers a lot of her friendships to be mutually beneficial arrangements

however, once you become her real friend, though she likely doesn’t have many, she will remain extremely loyal and do anything for you 

once her mind is set on something, she must see it through. this aspect about her can come across as being obsessive in a way (it’s her scorpio moon ok)

when it comes to relationships, eliana tends to see them kind of like business arrangements. love is kind of the last thing in her mind, but it’s definitely possible for her to get swept up into romance, as much as she hates to think so

so, eliana prefers hook ups. however, she still tries to maintain her pure image with people she does not know very well until she gets a read on them. she keeps all her relations on the low and even comes up with mini terms of agreement before getting involved with anyone. she reallyyyyy hates other people knowing her business

eliana is superficially nice on the surface. when i say superficial, it’s not to say that she isn’t friendly but it is superficial at first until she knows who she is dealing with. regardless, she is a friendly person because it does not really benefit her to be any other way. however, if you mess with her, she will find a tactical way to get you back and ten times harder

she drinks and does drugs in moderation because she likes to be in control of herself (minus her coke addiction bc u know). also does it on the down low because again, she’s maintaining an image here

her whole life is pretty much fake, so she often loses sight of herself. she doesn’t know exactly who she is but she is very good at pretending, and she even convinces herself sometimes

she’s pretty lonely tbh though she’ll never admit it. it’s been this way since she was little

her favorite books are anything by jane austen and les liaisons dangereuses by pierre choderlos de laclos, aka the book cruel intentions was based on. she also really enjoys sylvia plath, mary shelley, and virginia woolf

favorite shows: big little lies, sharp objects, killing eve, twin peaks, handmaid’s tale

favorite movies: pride and prejudice, marie antoinette, thoroughbreds, cruel intentions, annihilation, ex machina, stoker, the handmaiden, black swan, atonement, mulholland drive

her fav colors are mint, pastel pink, white and beige

pls look at the pinterest board i made for her <3

(    𝑾𝑨𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑫 𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑵𝑬𝑪𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺.   ) 

ex-fling/gf/bf - eliana could have a few of these. they could be on good or bad terms. if they’re on bad terms eliana would prob be keeping a close eye on them because she doesn’t want word really getting out. maybe the sexual tension is still there. we could plot out the details and make if fun and interesting hehe

unrequited crush -  ur character could have feelings for eliana, but maybe she doesn’t feel them. this could develop into her eventually having feelings for ur muse or not, whatever we want ! OR eliana could have a crush on someone who does not like her back. maybe that person is super non-committal, or they simply do not like her back. we could plot this out however but it would b interesting for eliana to actually have feelings for someone

current fling/friends w benefits - someone she is currently seeing/sleeping with. could be no strings attached, or there could b some feelings there. maybe they don’t want to make it anything serious, maybe one person is ready to go further, and the other isn’t.

enemies w benefits - imagine the tension!!! they started out hating each other, but ended up hooking up. maybe it was a one time thing, or maybe they can’t stop going back to each other. i think it would definitely have to be something kept super secret, she doesn’t want anyone else to know. this could develop in soooo many ways !

ex-friends - someone she used to consider a close friend, but they had a falling out for whatever reason n maybe they hate each other now. maybe they want to re-kindle their friendship but don’t know how. this could b juicy if they know a little too much about her

sibling-like friendship - someone she sees like a sibling. they’re there for each other and look out for one another, always have each other’s backs. being an only child and not really close to her parents, i would love for eliana to have a friend that’s like family !

dynamic duo - basically like her current best friend. this person is prob one of the closest people to her and might know her very well ! they could b a power duo, always looking out for each other

take care - ok i would love it if for one night, eliana lost control. she either got too drunk or high and was kind of a wreck. someone was there and kind of came to her rescue in a way, they got her home or maybe she slept at their place. after this night, maybe eliana would feel awkward (but also grateful) that someone actually took care of her and looked out for her. maybe your muse did it to have something over her, or maybe it was actually genuine to help her. this could be plotted out in sooo many ways yes i love it

confidant - someone who confides in her or someone she confides in, or they confide in each other. they don’t necessarily have to be the closest friends ever, but they get along, trust each other, and maybe they talk more in private

rivals - they hate each other for whatever reason. maybe it’s jealousy or their personalities just clash, but for whatever reason they do not get along. i love a good enemies plot. they can just b nasty to each other !!! maybe they bring out a really bad side to eliana that most ppl dont see (because she’s usually very lowkey even when she’s angry or dislikes someone)

victim of manipulation - eliana can be very manipulative. whether through bribery, blackmail, or whatever the case, i would love to have a plot where your muse is someone she could manipulate. maybe she bribes them to do her dirty work, or has something over them. she wouldn’t make them do anything too crazy, but this person would just be someone she has a hold over 

partner in crime - okay pls give me someone eliana schemes with. like imagine the powerrrr they would have. they would just plot n scheme together to help each other out or for some personal gain

dealer - idk if any of the muses r drug dealers, but if yes, someone who deals coke to her. they might know firsthand about her addiction. we could plot this however!

these are all the plot ideas i can think of for now, but i’ll prob make a plots page later on and add more stuff !

aaaaaand this is everything !! it has taken me longer to write this than i care to admit...pls don’t ask. i would absolutely looooove to plot so please hit me up on discord stream norman fucking rockwell#5522 (or i can hit u up). i cannotttt wait to start interacting and stuff <3

[merciful-mercenary]

Strawberry Cake - Valentine’s

Hello again! I wrote a oneshot for @askdoctoroliver and @ask-mr-luxembourg bc they’re both sweethearts that deserve the world okay 

Ship: Luxembourg/2p England (Doctor Oliver) Rating: G Themes: Fluff, Human AU, Valentine’s Special Summary: A florist and a confectioner are incredibly busy on Valentine’s Day of course, but that doesn’t mean they can’t celebrate it after they close up shop. Or, at least, celebrate it like friends do, right?

Claude = Luxembourg, Oliver = 2p England 

Valentine's Day was always a busy day for a confectionery and a flower shop, as was to be expected, especially when the two sat next to each other downtown. Claude, a calm and patient man, ran the flower shop while the confectionery was run by Oliver, a cheerful and kind-hearted man that Claude swore was as sweet as his candies. During the day, Claude knew they would both be too busy for him to visit Oliver, but he also knew the day didn't end once their shops closed.

So, once he finally was able to close up shop at the end of the day, he was about to leave to see how Oliver did for the day, but his display for Valentine's Day caught his eye. Unsurprisingly he had sold all of the roses he had prepared, but a few pots of pink and red tulips remained. He looked over each of them with a scrutinizing eye before picking one with a pale blue pot and softer pink tulips. He locked up his shop and headed next door, relieved that Oliver hadn't left yet.

The bell gave a pleasant chime as he walked in. Claude always enjoyed walking into Oliver's shop. Soft pink wallpaper with swirling cream decorations covered the walls, complimenting the wooden shelves that usually held premade boxes of chocolates and candies, though only a few stray boxes remained after the day. A couple of small round tables sat near the entrance, for customers that wished to sit with a cup of tea or coffee to enjoy their sweets with. The glass case that held all of the single chocolates was covered with a sheet. However, Claude's favorite part of the shop was nowhere in sight.

“Mr. Kirkland?” he called out.

The back door opened, and Oliver strolled out a moment later, his apron dusted with powdered sugar. Claude noted that he must have had a busy day as well, if how mussed up his strawberry blonde hair looked was anything to go by. “I'm sorry, I'm closed-- oh, Mr. Weis!” He brightened up at the sight of the florist. “How was your day? Successful, I hope?”

“Very much so. I almost never had a moment to sit down,” Claude sighed at the memory of the constant rush that day.

“Your feet must be sore. Would you like to rest here for a while? I just made tea,” Oliver offered.

“Thank you, I think I will take you on that offer,” Claude said. Any excuse to stay in the cozy shop was good. He held the tulips out to Oliver. “I brought you these. Happy Valentine's Day.”

Oliver's ice blue eyes widened and he took the pot, turning it slightly to admire the pale pink tulips that were almost the same shade as his cheeks. “Oh, thank you. What lovely flowers, you're a kind friend to give me these,” he said. He took the pot and walked away to set it on the windowsill. “I was just thinking today that window could use some decoration,” he mused. “It goes so well with the wallpaper too, how thoughtful.”

He stepped behind Claude and turned the lock on the door, and pulled the blinds down over the windows and door. “There. I am glad you stopped by, but I cannot take any more customers,” he said. “Now follow me, before the tea gets cold.”

Claude followed Oliver into the back room, the scent of chocolates making his mouth water. The back room was almost more comfortable than the main shop, with a cushioned couch and coffee table across the room from the kitchenette area where Oliver made everything by hand. The kitchenette area had tiled floors, but outside of it was plush carpet that made every step much more comfortable than the hard wooden flooring in Claude's shop. A cinnamon candle flickered on the coffee table, next to a tray of chocolates and a radio that played soft piano music.

Claude sat down on the couch while Oliver went to the teapot on the stove and pulled out two mugs to fill with tea.

“I hope chamomile is alright. It was a busy day for me too,” Oliver said. “Would you like honey?”

“Yes, please and thank you. Chamomile is perfect,” Claude assured him. He couldn't help but stare at the tray of sweets sitting on the coffee table. A few chocolates and candies looked misshapen or off color, and some heart-shaped sugar cookies were darker around the edges than Oliver normally cooked them as. However, to Claude, who had barely anything to eat that day, they looked like the  most appetizing things in the world.

“May I have some?” he asked, pointing at the tray.

Oliver turned to look at him and blanched at the sight of the tray. “Oh goodness, I'm sorry. Those were failed batches that were too deformed to give to children, I was eating them before you came in. I will get some better looking ones from the front for you. It's the least I can do for the flowers,” he said as he stirred the honey into their mugs.

Claude grabbed a misshapen chocolate, which he assumed was meant to look like a heart but looked more like a triangle with a small indent in the top. He popped it into his mouth, humming in content as the chocolate melted on his tongue.

“Mr. Weis--!”

“It tastes good as ever,” Claude assured him with a confident smile. “They may not look perfect, but they taste perfect and sweet as always, and that is all that matters, isn't it?”

Oliver carried the mugs over and hesitated for a moment, looking at the misshapen sweets before sighing and sitting down next to Claude. “If you insist,” he said, handing one of the mugs to Claude before taking a sip of his own tea.

“Was today a good day for you as well?” Claude asked.

“Yes, but quite busy,” Oliver sighed. “I came in at 4 this morning to make sure I had enough stock ready for the day, and I still ran out of a lot.”

“Do you have any plans for tonight?” Claude asked, scooting closer to Oliver until their legs brushed.

Oliver visibly tensed at the contact and he glanced to the side as he held his mug close. “No, I think..only baking tonight to fill up the shelves again.”

“That sounds like a lot of work. I can stay and help, if you'd like,” Claude offered, taking a sugar cookie off of the tray to nibble on it.

“Oh, I could not possibly ask you to do that. I'm sure you have your own plans,” Oliver defended, a light worried frown on his face.

Claude smiled and wrapped his arm around Oliver's shoulders. “I cannot think of any better way to spend Valentine's. We could make it a date.”

“Yes, of course, a date as friends, right?” Oliver said with a weak laugh. “Ha, that reminds me. I had prepared boxes of chocolates, with the chocolates in letters that said 'Happy Valentine's Day'. One young man asked for me to replace the 'v' in Valentine's with a 'p', so that it was 'Palentine's'. A valentine who is your pal. Isn't that clever?” he chuckled. “It's a palentine's date then.”

Ever the patient man, and also enjoying seeing Oliver so flustered, Claude pressed on. “I would rather have it be a real Valentine's date, Oliver.”

Oliver coughed and cleared his throat. “Yes, I suppose it is ridiculous to give it a different name, isn't it?” he mused. “A valentine does not have to be romantic, after all.”

“It could be romantic,” Claude insisted.

“Yes, yes, er, of course it can be, Valentine's is seen as a romantic holiday first and foremost, but friendship truly is just as important, and I am glad to have such a friend like you,” Oliver agreed, his cheeks red as he pointedly stared down and to the side at a spot on the carpet. “And I would greatly appreciate the help. The shop was nearly cleared out today.”

Claude wondered if the confectioner's head was filled with sugar with how sweet but oblivious he was. However, it was nothing new to him, so he only gave a small sigh and grabbed another chocolate to take a bite out of. Oliver was cute when he was flustered, though. “It's a good thing I stopped by then,” he said. “You know you can call me, right? You have my number.”

“Yes, but I have been able to handle it,” Oliver assured him as he sipped at his tea. “It's caused a few late nights and early mornings, but it is like this every year.”

“Is it not better to have company while you bake?”

“It does get quiet,” Oliver sighed. He smiled and gave Claude a small nudge. “But it's okay, because I've got you here tonight,” he reasoned. “What a wonderful Valentine's date, two friends baking together.”

“Yes,” Claude said, his grip tightening ever so slightly on his mug.

The piano music drifted lazily around the room as they drank their tea and ate the reject sweets. Oliver wished he could enjoy the comfortable silence that settled over them, but he sat tensed as Claude shifted to rest his cheek on top of his head. Cuddling was a friendly thing to do, right? Surely it must be. His cheeks warm, he shifted to try to get comfortable against Claude, though the tension never left his shoulders. He only hoped that Claude couldn't feel how hard his heart hammered against his chest, as if he had run across town. Not that he knew why, Claude was his friend. It was normal for friends to sit close to each other, right?

Oliver finished his second cup of tea quickly, worried about dropping the mug from his hands shaking. “Maybe chamomile tea wasn't the best idea so early,” he mumbled.

“Perhaps a quick rest before we start would help,” Claude suggested.

Oliver stood to gather up the now empty tray, teapot, and their mugs, trying to ignore how cold he felt without Claude's arm around him. He glanced back at the couch with pursed lips. “There's not enough room on the couch for both of us,” he pointed out.

Claude hummed in thought and took off his shoes to lay down on the couch while Oliver washed everything off.

“What if you sleep on top of me?” Claude suggested. Oliver nearly dropped the tray in the sink, and he turned off the water.

“What did you say?” he asked.

“You can sleep on top of me,” Claude repeated. “Lay down on top of me, and sleep.”

“No, no. I can sleep on the floor,” Oliver insisted. He walked back towards the couch, and moved to lay down in front of it. “Perfectly comfortable,” he reasoned.

“I think I would be more comfortable, and warmer too,” Claude reasoned with a mischievous smile.

“Yes but I am perfectly content down here, thank you.” To prove his point, Oliver turned on his side, his back to the couch. Claude turned to trail his fingers over Oliver's shoulder.

“You're too tense, you'll be sore if you sleep down there for any longer than a few minutes,” he reasoned. “You cannot be in pain while you bake, it might result in more mistakes.”

Oliver pressed his lips into a thin line. Claude did have a point, and if he could avoid making any errors in his sweets, it would be a good opportunity to take. He glanced over his shoulder at Claude, who gave him an innocent smile.

“So?” Claude asked.

“...I will just have to take a short nap then before getting to work,” Oliver reasoned, turning back over. It almost felt like he didn't need to nap anymore, with how fast his heart was racing. He jumped in surprise when Claude stepped over him to get up.

“Then I will sleep on the floor,” Claude said, sitting down on the floor cross legged. “So that you can sleep on the couch.”

“Mr. Weis, you are a friend and guest! I cannot let you sleep on the floor,” Oliver defended.

“Then I guess the couch will just have to go to waste, because I will not sleep on it unless you are sleeping on it as well,” Claude said, crossing his arms.

Oliver hesitated and sat up, looking at the couch and then at Claude. Would it really be so bad for friends to sleep on top of one another? As long as nothing happened, which it wouldn't, then it was just a friendly gesture. He gave a resigned sigh and got to his feet.

“Fine,” he said as he sat on the couch to take off his shoes. Oliver tried not to stare too hard at the triumphant smile on Claude's face as he laid down on his back and got comfortable. “Okay, come here.”

He looked over when he only got silence in response, and saw Claude covering his mouth as his face flushed bright red.

“What? You wanted me to lay on you a minute ago. Surely this is the same,” Oliver reasoned. Claude struggled to find the right words.

“Well, yes, but..I--” Claude paused and took a breath to regain composure, and he slowly hissed it out. “Okay.” He got up, stiff from trying to hold back how flustered he was, and hesitantly laid down on top of Oliver. He folded his arms on top of Oliver's chest to rest his head on, and try to hide his red cheeks.

Oliver only hoped that Claude was too flustered to notice how fast his own heart was racing. “Yes, I do think this is more comfortable,” he agreed, wrapping an arm around Claude. “I think this has already been one of the best Valentine's dates I have had in a while. Thank you for..for being such a good friend, Mr. Weis.”

Claude sighed and closed his eyes, unable to hide the slight smile tugging at his lips. “Of course. Happy Valentine's day, Mr. Kirkland.”

[queerdiaz]

A Very Camsten Christmas

A/N: MERRY (belated) CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR TO MY WONDERUFL FRIEND @xoheatherkw! I was your Secret Santa for the @stitcherssecretsanta2018​ and I’m sooo beyond happy that I was bc you are one of my oldest friends on here and in the Stitchers fam. I hope you have a very magical year full of happiness and growth! I’m sorry this is late but I hope you enjoy this little gift! ILYSFM HONEY<33333

For the millionth time that day, a cough escaped Cameron’s throat, making him feel worse than he already did. This was the worse day of his life. Okay, maybe not the worse because he’s had his fair share of days that were just flat a… doozy. Like those days when he had almost died. But most were when Kirsten had lost her memory. So he did technically did had it worse, but this...this had to be up there. Cameron Goodkin had prided himself in being very healthy and clean. Some would call him “neurotic” or “OCD” or “clean freak that needs to chill”-the last one being from Camille. But he had rarely been sick, so jokes were on them. 

He then sneezed for the 34th time. (He wasn’t counting or anything).

Okay, fine. The joke was technically on him now, he guessed. Damn his weak immune system. Because of his heart condition he had as a kid, Cameron could easily get ill. For most people they’d just get a cold or sinus infection, sometime the flu. But for Cameron he’d get not only the bad case of the flu, but a slew of other things. As a kid he went to the hospital a lot, even after his heart surgery. So as he got older, he became cleaner and cleaner to the point to where anything unclean freaked him out. It would just remind him of those dark days that he tried not to remember as he got older.

That all changed, however, when Cameron met Kirsten. (Like everything else in his life. For the better.)

He had known pretty quickly that he was in love with her. How could he not though? She was smart, beautiful, brave, and so, so much more. And caring. Even when she had her Temporal Dysplasia, where it was hard for her to have emotions, Cameron could tell she cared. And it always tugged at his heart every time she got so passionate about the person she was stitching, feeling what they had felt. To this day it still amazed him. She amazed him. And she had also inspired him to be brave. Which was why on that day during the first year they had known each other, he conquered his fear of dying and stabbed himself with that fateful syringe.

Now, four years later, Cameron could handle hospitals again. Being in the Stitchers program you kinda had to get used to them. Now did Cameron still hate hospitals and being sick and injured still? Frack yes. And he sure as hell hated his latest visit the day prior. Being stuck there for two days was no fun. (He’d much rather deal with crazy murder investigations and government conspiracies.) However, now he was at home with the love of his life, still feeling like the trash in the Deathstar’s garbage compactor, but at least he was home with Kirsten. Cameron had realized pretty early on that as long as he had Kirsten, he could handle anything.

Cameron just wished that he didn’t have to be sick on Christmas. Mostly for Kirsten. Since Kirsten had reunited with her mom and got all her memories back, she had discovered that Christmas was her family’s favorite time of year. She had kept on smiling the more she told Cameron all the fun stories. This was her first Christmas with her mom and Kirsten had been determined to make it the best Christmas, which surprised everyone except for Cameron. It had been hard getting used to having her mom in her life and it seemed like they bonded the most when they reminisced on those happy memories. So of course Kirsten wanted to recreate them again. And so they went all out. Kirsten decorated both hers and Cameron’s places, even buying two trees. Cameron was more of Hanukkah man himself since his best memories were celebrating it every night with his grandmother, but he wanted Kirsten feel the happiest she had ever been so he enjoyed doing those traditions with her. So much so that he decided to give her a big Christmas present.

But now, on Christmas Day itself, it all was ruined because his immune system was the worst.

A knock then came at his bedroom’s opened door, making him lift his head to see Kirsten walking in holding a tray. “Hey babe, I got you soup and hot lemon water just as you like it.” She announced with a bright smile.

Cameron just grumbled, sinking further into his bed. “Why are you smiling? Christmas is ruined. I ruined Christmas!”

Kirsten rolled her eyes, walking over to him, placing the tray on his nightstand, and took a seat on the edge of the bed. “Stop, being a baby, Baby. Christmas is not ruined.”

“But this was your first Christmas with your mom again. It was important.”

“It is important. Which was why Mom stopped by while you were asleep, bringing us food and presents. She stayed for a bit and we reminisced. It was nice.” She said with a soft smile. Her eyes then lit up. “Oh! And she gave me this.” Kirsten then grabbed what looked to be a locket around her neck and showed it to him. He sat to get a better look. She then opened it to reveal to pictures. One side was an older picture of a young Kirsten standing between her two parents in front of a Christmas tree, smiles on all of their faces. On the side of the locket was a newer photo, one Cameron recognized. It was of them two standing in the middle dressed as Betty and Jughead with the Stitchers family surrounding them at Camille’s Halloween party this past year. “It’s of my two families. Old and new.”

“It’s beautiful.” He whispered, heart tugging on the fact that both Kirsten and her mom saw that he and the Stitchers crew were also her family and just as important. Cameron then sighed. “Kirsten, you don’t have be here the entire day. You’ve been at my side for the past three days. You should go be with your family other than me today. I’ll be fine.”

“Hey.” Kirsten then placed both her hands on his shoulders. “Listen to me. Cameron Goodkin, you are my family also. There’s no other place I’d rather be than by your side.”

Cameron hitched his breath, chest tightening at her words. “But...Christmas.”

She shook her head with an amused smile on her face, “Cameron, this entire Christmas season has been the best. I’ve got to spend it with my mom again. My mom. But also I got to spent with you and my new family. We went ice skating, decorated together, and I got to bake gingerbread with my mom. We even got to have Christmas party with everyone there. I swear I was living a freaking Hallmark Christmas movie or something.”

They both chuckled.

Cameron then rubbed his thumb on Kirsten’s shoulder. “So you really don’t mind taking care of me on Christmas day?”

She shook her head. “Absolutely not. Wanna know why?”

“Why?”

“When I saw you sleeping in the hospital room, I was immediately reminded of when you almost died trying to help me. That was one of  the most terrified moments of my life, Cameron. And it still haunts me to this day. So seeing you in the same hospital, I was so worried. But then last night when they said that you could go home just in time for Christmas, I was beyond relieved. And now I get to spend the holiday with the man I love, even if you’re in bed rest. Because, no matter where you are, I want to be there with you.. Besides, isn’t Christmas supposed to be about love, happiness, and home? Cameron Goodkin, you are all of that to me.”

Cameron just stared at her, so filled with love he couldn’t take it.

After he didn’t respond, Kirsten turned her head away. “That was lame, I know.”

“No!” He exclaimed. He then touched her cheek and pulled her head back toward him. Her beautiful eyes met his. “Kirsten, you amaze me every day of my life. I am never bored with you at your side and you make me the happiest I have ever been in my life.” The words then flew out before he could think. “Kirsten, will you marry me?”

Her eyes widened in shock. “What?” She breathed out.

For a parsec of a moment, Cameron had the thought to quickly pretend that he was just messing with her or something. But no. He was always brave with her and so he would be the bravest he had ever been.

Cameron then took both of Kirsten’s within hers, taking a breath before releasing it, and then said, “This isn’t how I planned to do this, but in our line of work things rarely go as planned. Why is this any different, amiright?” He then laughed nervously before clearing his throat and continuing. “Kirsten, you know how much I love you. I’ve loved you since you told me “Blue Door Sepulveda” and then called me Julie before giving me the best kiss I ever had prior to that moment. Even though it was still weird since you didn’t remember for a while.”

This made Kirsten laugh, tears falling down her face. He then moved his left hand away from hers and lifted it to wipe the tears away.

He continued, “I’ve always loved you. No matter what you were going through or feeling or not feeling. My love for you just grew and grew. And it continues to grow everyday. Kirsten, when you lost your memories of me I…” He swallowed then grabbed her hand he was still holding and placed it on top of his heart before continuing, “My heart didn’t just hurt. It felt hollow. And so when you remembered me, remembered us again, I was so incredibly happy that on a whim I bought you a ring. But we were just getting back together and you were getting to know your mom, so I decided to wait for a while. And then when I saw how happy the Holidays made you, I decided that Christmas would be perfect. And even though my plans for it changed and I right now I feel like I’m dying, I can’t wait any longer.” Then with his free hand, Cameron reached into his pajama pocket and grabbed the small, velvet box, pulling it out. He then opened to it to reveal a diamond ring with sapphire stones on the side. “ Kirsten Clark Stinger, will you be the Leia to my Han and marry me?”

“Yes!” She then rushed to kiss him, but he moved away from her.

“I don’t want to get you sick.”

Kirsten then gave him a deathly glare. “Cameron, if you don’t let me kiss you I swear-”

But before she could finish, Cameron placed his lips against on hers.

It probably wasn’t technically one of their best kisses since his lips were chapped and he was sweating, but to Cameron this was the best kiss he had ever had. After the best moments of his life, they slightly parted until their foreheads were against each other.

Kirsten then gave him the brightest smile he had ever seen. “Best. Christmas. Ever.”

Cameron laughed and then kissed her again. He took his earlier sentiments back. Instead of the worst day of his life, this was the best day of his life and he planned to have many more of them with Kirsten.

[floralseokjin]

it’s christmas eve and you and Namjoon are about to partake in some peculiar roleplay...

pairing | kim namjoon x reader genre/warnings |  smut, santa! namjoon, SANTA ROLEPLAY (honestly if you’re not into it then don’t read bc getting freaky with santa isn’t everyone’s cup of tea), dirty talk, kinda cracky, kinda fluffy?? etc etc words | 6,159

author’s note | look who couldn’t stay away for long. This is the result of a sex dream I had about a *cough cough* REAL person I KNOW, and I really needed to vent and write this out, so here we are! I want to thank Ave for sending me that grinch santa porn, my curiosity probably stemmed from there!! But OBVIOUSLY namjoon isn’t dressed up as the grinch……that would just be weird, right? Right??? Also, Amy this one is for you!! I was thinking of you when I wrote the mistletoe in!! ENJOY, EVERYONE….maybe…../sweats profusely/

“Oh, my god…”

Your voice is little but a gasp, taking in your boyfriend’s physique as he stands by the edge of the bed. He’s dressed like Santa Claus—albeit minus the round belly, white beard and rosy cheeks. He’s dressed in red pants and a gown, no shirt underneath so his bronzed chest is noticeable to your ever wondering eye. His hat is placed askew on his head, brown hair tousled underneath. He looks good, something you never thought you’d say, but…it was your idea after all.

Namjoon had been a little dubious at first, unsure if this time your curiosity in roleplay had peaked and gone overboard. It would be a great Christmas present you had told him, much cheaper than the expensive perfume you’d wanted…

“But why would Father Christmas be visiting a woman in her mid-twenties?” He’d asked, ever the logical.

“It’s roleplay, Namjoon,” you’d sighed. “It’s not real, there for Father Christmas can visit a grown ass woman on Christmas Eve and fuck her!”

At the word fuck, his ears had perked up—you were sure he was a fifteen-year boy going through puberty at heart—and with one last “please, baby,” a pout on your face, he was all yours, putty in your hands.

“I feel like I should have gone with a beard…” he says now, still stood in front of you, massaging his jaw between his thumb and forefinger.

“No, babe,” you shake your head, “that would’ve been too itchy.”

“I would’ve taken it off!” He insists, and you’re shocked he seems so passionate about this…Maybe he is just as excited as you… You mean, when it came to sex Namjoon is always so easily pleased. This would be no different, you know it.

“That wouldn’t have been very authentic,” you tell him, pushing yourself back, your back propped up against the million and one pillows you had on the bed you shared.

“So is a Santa without a beard, period…oh wait…” he adds, feigning clarity, eyeballing you sceptically.

“Just shush, stop being so clever,” you rebuke him with your hand. You knew this idea isn’t very realistic. It’s make believe, it is supposed to be a bit of fun!

“Do you want to fuck me or not?” You ask, and take great delight when he nods immediately, back straight. “Then go outside the door. Come in after a couple of minutes,” you tell him, getting excited now. This was finally happening, and you watch him pick his red sack up—something he’d insisted on having with him. (Apparently it had your gifts in for the next day, which told you he is definitely into this more than he let on…).

“You need to catch me about to masturbate—and remember! No snapping out of character—No laughing either,” you add, voice stern.

You knew Namjoon like the back of your hand, and staying in character during one of your…extracurricular activities, shall you say, was almost impossible for him to do.

“I’ve got it,” he nods, face serious, as if he is psyching himself up, and you watch as he opens the door and bids you farewell. “See you in a bit, baby.”

He closes the door and you’re alone, probably only for a moment and you waste no time in spreading your legs, feet planted firmly to the bed. You’re in the skimpiest pyjama set you own, a strappy shirt and tiny shorts, no underwear underneath, and the draft between your legs floods you with a shock of pleasure. You aren’t going to really touch yourself, wanting to wait until Namjoon’s here, ready to do it for you, but you place your hand over the fabric, the pressure against your mound bracing you for the next hour or so… You take a breath, and then the door’s opening, Father Christmas barging through with his sack over his shoulder.

“Ho, ho, ho,” he bellows, in the deepest, jolliest voice he can muster, and your eyes widen.  “What do we have here?”

You can’t help it. You burst out laughing, so violently you snort, tears appearing in the corners of your eyes.

“Babe!” He exclaims, like a petulant child, Namjoon well and truly back in the bedroom.  “You said no laughing!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you apologise, trying to stifle your giggles, hand over your mouth. “Your voice just sounded really funny. Please use your own…”

It’s your own fault, you hadn’t specified that, you guess, and just imagining Namjoon using that voice all night made you cringe, wanting to burst into laughter all over again.

“Fine,” he huffs, hoiking the sack over his shoulder again, before swinging the door open. “I’ll be back in one.”

You nod, settling back on the bed as you dry your eyes, taking another deep breath as you slide your hand down your body again, waiting for your boyfriend—waiting for Santa.

“Ho, ho, ho,” he bursts in again, and this time you get into character, your hand flying to your mouth in feigned shock as he walks in and dumps his sack at the end of the bed.

“What do we have here? Isn’t everyone supposed to be asleep on Christmas Eve?”

“Santa?” You gasp, getting up on your knees to view him. “Is that really you?”

The name rolls off your lips semi-naturally, and there’s a moment of question—are you really doing this right now? But quite frankly, with Namjoon, anything is fun, especially some holiday filled naughty time. It’s fun, and different, and if you can’t act a fool in front of the man you love, who can you act a fool in front of?!

“It is,” he nods, eyes skimming down your cleavage, and you make sure to push up with your arms a little, accentuating the swell.

“Are you sure you’re the real one?” You accuse, tone innocent, but eyes accusing. You want to have some fun with him. Just to see how he acts put on the spot. “Isn’t he supposed to have a beard?”

His face turns stoic for a moment, gaze hard as he tenses his jaw and replies. “If I’m not in the North Pole there’s no point. It’s not as cold here…” he shakes his head as you try your best to hide your smirk. “Now, where were we…?” He asks, changing the subject.

You oblige, peaking over the edge of the bed, tone saccharine. “Are those my presents?”

“Nuh-uh,” he refuses, pulling the sack behind him. “Only good girls can have their presents. You weren’t asleep.”

“I am a good girl,” you pout, looking up at him with doe-like eyes. Seeing Namjoon so into his role only fuels you more, and you are not able to drag this out too long. “I was just distracted.”

“With what?” Santa asks, cocking an eyebrow.

“I’m frustrated, Santa,” you pout some more, tone dejected as you channelled your best inner Hollywood actress.

“Frustrated?” He repeats, moving closer to you, and you nod adamantly. “Why don’t you come and sit on Santa’s lap and tell me all about it…?”

The thrill that shoots through your body is like a couple dozen tiny electric shocks, and you nod animatedly, a shy ‘okay’ falling under your breath as you watch him move.

“Okay,” he repeats, just as pleased, and he takes a seat on the side of the bed, the mattress dipping around your knees with his weight, just like your abdomen right this instant. He raises his arms out, beckoning you to come forward and he looks ever so inviting. His body is warm as you sit on his lap and he wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you to him as you shift your torso to face him.

“So…what is the problem?” He asks, curiously innocent. All real, because he has no clue where you’re going with this.

You hit him with it straight away, because you’re horny and you have no patience, but you make sure to sound as innocent as you possibly can when the confession falls from your mouth.

“I just…haven’t been able to have an orgasm in a while.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen and you don’t know whether to count that as a break of character or not, but as soon as it happens, it’s gone and then he’s back. “An orgasm?!” He exclaims, mouth curling up as he dares to ruin this again.  “Ho, ho, ho, how come?”

Ho, ho, ho. Maybe you really should have thought of some ground rules before you’d started. Santa’s jolly laugh is not something you want to hear while Namjoon rails you into practically the New Year. So, you play him at his own game.

“Santa, it’s my boyfriend,” you pout, eyes innocent again. “He doesn’t know how to fuck me properly.”

This time Namjoon’s jaw falls slack as he stares at you, a smirk itching on your face now, before his gaze turns determined, arms wrapping tighter around you, encaging your body against—diminutive in Santa’s lap.

“I’m sure he does,” he insists, eyes narrowed, accusing. “Maybe you’re just a bad girl who can’t find a man good enough for her—Greedy.”

You gasp, all for play, because you’re loving how into this Namjoon is. You’ve never seen him like this before and it’s turning you on. “I’m not greedy!”

He nods. “And spoilt,” pointing his head to look at the sack on the floor. “Your bag of presents is the heaviest tonight.”

“Santa,” you whine, nuzzling up to him. “I’m not spoilt. I just want someone to make me cum good.”

You hear Namjoon’s breath catch, shaky inhale broken at your line, and you hide your smirk in his chest, purposely wriggling your ass over his crotch, feeling the tell-tale signs of his erection.

“Santa…” you breathe. “What can I feel? What is it?”

“Oh…that…” he replies, body stiffening before he’s gripping your chin, angling your face level with his as he descends.  “Your filthy words have gotten to Santa. You’re corrupted, and now you’ve corrupted me,” he smirks, and a thrill of pleasure shoots down to your core, unable to take your eyes off him, hanging off every word. “You’re a bad girl, and bad girl’s need to be punished.”

“What do you suggest, Santa?” You ask innocently.

Santa puts you at arms length. “Has your boyfriend ever spanked you before?”

Your stomach begins to do crazy flips, your heart jackhammering against your chest. You shake your head, maybe finding yourself falling out of character. No, Namjoon has never spanked you. Well, maybe during sex a little, but something tells you that’s not what he has planned for you now…

“Good,” he smirks. “Now lay over my knees, and I can promise I’ll make you a good girl again.”

You get to it, jumping up excitedly as Santa spreads his legs a tad, inviting you, and you do as you’re told, laying belly down over his thick thighs, gripping the edge of the bed.

“Will you spank all the badness out of me, Santa?” You ask, twisting your head with a smirk, and he nods determinedly.

“That I will.  Now count as I go,” he commands you, hand reaching down to stroke the flesh of your ass, fabric unable to hide your most delicate of areas; you’re sure he can see peaks of your vagina from his position.  

“Okay, Santa—argh.” You’re interrupted when he already slams his palm down to the centre of your cheeks, and you grit your teeth, the burn stinging your eyes. “One.”

“What was that?” He presses, smoothing the skin gently, but his tone is still threatening.

“One, Santa,” you correct, clenching your eyes closed when he spanks you again.  “Two, Santa.”

This carries on a couple more times until his hand slid under the crotch of your shorts, large hands pulling apart the flesh, moulding it in his palms, before two of his fingers trace the outline of your sensitive lips.

“Where’s your underwear?” He questions, a demand, but a curious one at that.

“I-I don’t have any,” you stutter out, body trembling with want.

“You don’t?” He repeats, lightly spanking your bare flesh now and you gasp. “You’re too filthy, beyond my help,” he informs you, causing you to moan involuntary.

Your body is taut, stiff over him, unable to even breath as you wait his next move. You get it alright. His fingers dipping to your needy hole, as he soaks them in your arousal. You whimper, unable to stop yourself from bucking into the sensation.

He scoffs. “Why are you enjoying this? Wet?! Feel it, it’s running down your legs,” he says, rubbing his digits against the inside of your thighs, dirtying your body with your own sticky juices. You twitch at the sensation.

“Santa, please,” you plead. “Do something else. I beg you! Maybe you have to do more to get the badness out of me?”

You’re desperate and you need him to touch you more. You need him to do something, anything, just to rid the tension that renders your body powerless.

“Up,” he orders suddenly, and you listen instantly, legs shaky as you stand before him. He sits up straighter, judging you, brow line creased. “Look at you, a mess!”

That much is true, you play up to the role, shunning at his words while secretly loving it—it ignites a need so deep in you, you feel more than alive. Your thighs rubbing against one another as you try to cease the burn between them. Your cheeks rosy from the effect of his spanks. Your ass still tingling with pain and pleasure. Your stomach jolts when you see Namjoon stand up.

“Where’s your boyfriend tonight? He can’t help you?” He asks, head tilted, now stood directly in front of you as you look up.

“He’s not here. He left me for Christmas…and besides…I know you could pleasure me better, Santa,” you grin, lowering your tone, battering your eyelashes up at him, ever so demure as you try your best to get him to fuck you.

“How do you know that?” He cocks an eyebrow.

“Your dick, it felt big, and thick, and I know it would feel so good stuffed inside my pussy.”

You’re not playing around anymore, and you watch as Namjoon gulps loudly, his eyelids fluttering closed for a moment as he collects himself. When he opens them again, his eyes are dark, enough to almost make you cower.

“You tempt Santa,” he practically growls.

“Good,” you quip smugly, standing your ground. “I want Santa to fuck me. I know he’s the only man up to the job.”

“The only woman I fuck is Mrs. Claus…” he tells you, and you balk for a moment, the need to laugh or scold Namjoon beyond high. Why did he ever think that would be sexy? You widen your eyes a little instead, silently telling him really, before he stalls, realising his mistake.

“But,” he coughs, clearing his throat, backtracking immediately. “I’m sure what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

With that he’s closing the gap between you, his hand gently brushing through your hair, admiring you, and your mouth parts, a silent sigh leaving you as you seem unable to tear your eyes from him.

“You are beautiful, does your boyfriend ever tell you that?” He murmurs, and for a moment your heart swells happily inside your chest.

“He tells me that a lot,” you smile genuinely, catching eyes and he matches it.

“And so he should,” he nods, clearing his throat once again, before he’s back in character.

With dark eyes his gaze falls down to your chest, soaking in the view of your cleavage. He lifts his hand, dragging his finger down the opening until he begins to pop your buttons loose. Finally the garment falls open, revealing your bare form. His hands instantly reach to play with your breasts, weighing them with his palms, thumbs flicking against the nipples.

“Ah, such perky tits. It’s been a long time since I saw them like this,” he says wistfully, and you stifle a giggle, choosing to ignore his try at humour.

“Maybe you should taste one…?” You tempt.

“I’d love to,” he smirks, dipping his hand to engulf one of your sensitive buds in his mouth, tongue flicking skilfully, causing you to shudder, pliable in his hold as he grips your hips. “You really are so horny,” he muses, pulling away.

“I’m just excited for Santa to fuck me,” you silk, fluttering your eyelashes again.

“Hm…” he contemplates, thinking things through. “First, you have to do something for Santa.”

“Anything,” you appease.

You watch as he moves back to the bed, sitting down at the head, getting himself comfy against the pillows. “Come here,” he motions with his hand, and you immediately clamber on the mattress, kneeling up straight before him. “Take that off,” he points to your shirt, “and touch them for me.”

You waste no time, freeing yourself of the clothing and you begin by cupping the soft flesh of your right breast, pushing it up slowly, trying to act as seductive as you could. It works of course, Namjoon can’t resist you, he’s never been able to. You watch as his hand trails down to his dick, gripping it over the cloth of his red trousers. He grunts, gaze intense as he watches you.

“Are you enjoying this, Santa?” You ask sweetly.

“Ho, ho, ho, yes,” he grins, and you ignore the need to roll your eyes. It seems he loves that one phrase… You’ll let him have it.

You move closer up the bed, he spreads his legs so you can fit in, your arm reaching out to run a hand down his semi-revealed chest… His skin is warm and hard, and you can’t help it, you need to untie him, bringing both hands to his middle as you fight with the knot. Once his chest is fully bare, you soak it in, practically drooling.

“Do you want me to do anything else?” You purr, watching him through half-lidded eyes.

“How about getting your mouth around that big, thick dick you so badly need,” he groans, breath hot against your face.

“My pleasure,” you grin, akin to a cheshire cat.

You descend quickly, desperately trying to free him of his slacks as he lifts his hips up. You’re pleasantly surprised when you see he too, isn’t wearing any underwear, pulling his thick member free…only for your eyes to land on something puzzling—

“Oh, my god,” you gasp quietly, eyeballing the tiny felt mistletoe that is tied around the base of his dick, unable to hold onto the act. “Namjoon!”

He looks down too, a sigh of relief leaving his lungs. “Shit, I am so glad that worked out,” he admits, and you roll your eyes. What would he have done if he’d tied the string too tight?! You wouldn’t have driven him to the emergency room when the cord had cut of the circulation to his extremely engorged member!

“Sorry,” he apologises, seeing the look on your face, and he runs his fingers through your hair.  “C’mon let’s keep going.”

You stall for a moment, but come to, shaking your head in amusement as you dip back down, before taking a deep breath, getting back in the zone. You feel him shudder above you as you open your mouth, hot breath tingling against the head of his cock. You jut your tongue out, letting the tip lick a strip up his sensitive flesh, and he groans, patient enough to keep his hips planted to the bed. You continue like this, leisurely tasting him, eyes flickering to his face every now and then, watching for reactions.

“It’s not a popsicle, baby girl, it won’t give you brain freeze. Shove it all in your mouth,” he grunts, voice hoarse, as if he’s forgetting to breathe.

You’re sent into a tailspin, wanting just to pleasure him, determined as you take him into your mouth, resting him against your warm, wet tongue as you begin to drag back and forth.

“Mmhm—fuck,” he hisses, intake of breath sharp, and this time he can’t help but to rock his hips, following your motion, working himself further into your mouth.

“You really know how to pleasure Santa Claus, hm?” He asks lowly.

You hum around his dick, sucking loudly before pulling away. “I want to make Santa feel good,” you glee, your chin wet with your own saliva, before you’re back on him, needing more.

This time you keep eye contact, watching each crease in his reaction, expression twisted as you keep on pleasuring him, his torso tense, thigh muscles twitching, as you work him to the point of oblivion, tongue lapping at the underside of his cock. Low moans fall from his throat, mouth open as he watches you intensely, and then suddenly his eyes close, and he’s twisting away from you, whining a little.

“Fuck, fuck, baby, sto—Ho, ho, ho,” he interrupts himself, realising he was falling out of character just in time.

You raise back on your knees, watching him curiously. He looks a mess, hands shaking, cheeks round and red.

“Let Santa return the favour now. I want to see what’s underneath those tiny shorts of yours…” He murmurs, voice just as affected.

You squeal in delight, bouncing down on your back as he clambers on top of you. You spread your legs, the draft flying up the gaps of your shorts, and he wastes no time in kissing down your stomach, tongue tracing shapes into the hot flesh. You feel a finger dip into your shorts, lightly brushing against your folds and you whimper, arching your back into him.

“So wet for Santa,” he husks, against your skin, chin against your waistband, and your heart drums like a hummingbird when you feel him begin to drag them down.

He gasps when he pulls back and sees how wet you are, discarding the garment as he drops it to the floor. You know you’re soaked, you can feel the sticky arousal collecting at your entrance, and Namjoon has barely touched you. You’re desperate for him; it swells his ego, you can tell by the smirk on his face.

“Did you know I was coming? Was this your plan all along?” He asks darkly.

“Maybe,” you tease coyly, spreading your legs even wider now, one of your feet pressing down on his shoulder to pull him between your thighs.

He obeys, getting comfy on his stomach as he winds his arms under your thighs, locking you in place. He blows cool air against your swollen, needy clit and you cry out, desperate beyond relief.

“What do you want me to do? You have to tell Santa, otherwise he won’t know…” he murmurs lowly. You can feel every syllable against your drenched core. It turns you on even more.

“I want Santa to eat me out,” you beg, to which he chuckles.

He does. Slowly, pressure barely there, and if anything, it drives you even wilder. When he begins flicking the tip of his tongue against your hardened clit you groan, almost inhumanly. It rips from your chest, body contorted, as he shoves his face against your heat, bare skin rubbing against soft, wet folds.

“Y’know,” you manage to get out, panting loudly. “I kinda wish you kept your beard. I would’ve loved to feel it against my pussy, Santa.”

“F-fuck,” He mutters, and you don’t miss the way he ruts into the mattress, desperate for some type of relief too.  “You’re such a dirty girl. Does your boyfriend know?”

“I think I’m too dirty for him,” you admit, feigning disappointment.

“Never,” he insists resolutely, shaking his head.

You grin, because he’s correct. Sometimes you truly think you and Namjoon were meant to meet. He gets you so well, and you get him. You mean, who else would dress up as Santa just to appease your weird mind?

You moan quietly, almost a gargle in your throat when his tongue falls to your hole, encircling loops around the delicate, sweet flesh, and you feel like you could cry. The pleasure so divine you feel like you’re floating, and as soon as he moves up again, mouth wrapped around your clit, you feel it. That need to come. It gnaws at you, aches at you, moans getting faster and louder. It’s happening, it’s almost there, and then—

You cry out when Santa pulls back, head falling back against the pillows in frustration.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He asks innocently.

“I wanted to cum,” you whine pathetically, voice small. “You were supposed to let me cum.”

You should have written that in your non-existent ground rules too…

“Don’t worry, baby girl,” he grins, sitting up and crawling between your legs.  “You’ll be cumming very soon—in fact,” he smirks, mouth inches from yours, “you’ll probably be begging me to stop in the end.”

He’s getting cocky. Santa’s getting cocky, and you can’t be having that. You sit up straighter, watching his mouth obviously, he notices and his eyes flicker over your face, now nervous, unsure of what you’re planning. In less than five seconds you have him under you, straddling his lap as you face one another.

“Santa,” you whisper seductively, holding onto his gown, eyes wide as you silently beg him for release. As you silently beg him to fuck you.

“You look so innocent, but you’re not, right?” He murmurs, hands in your hair again before he cups your cheek and you nuzzle into his palm, smirking widely as you grind your hips over him, feeling his hard cock wedged between your bodies. “Hm?” He hums, biting down on his bottom lip. “You wanna ride Santa’s cock?”

You nod rapidly. “I wanna feel you fill me up so bad.”

“But how will I be able to fuck you good if I’m not in charge?” He feigns puzzlement. “Santa wants you on your knees,” he grins out, and your belly starts doing flips.

You’re listening immediately, flipping off him to scurry on your knees, palms holding your body up as your arms shake in anticipation. Especially when you hear him behind you, mattress shifting under his weight as he bends down and inspects between your legs.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mutters under his breath, and you jump when you feel two of his fingers spread apart your lips, giving him full view of the swollen, soaked interior.  “Everything’s so wet,” he awes, before crawling up again, large hands clutching down on your behind. “Your ass,” he practically growls, “still red from all that spanking…”

You moan, jutting your body into him, feeling his length rub against your thighs; it’s still wet from your saliva and it sticks to your skin, painting it with invisible shiny trails.

“Please, Santa,” you whimper. “Please fuck me. I’m desperate, and frustrated and I need you to stick that thick cock inside me now before I cry.”

You’re really playing up now, the role taking over you as you pout, head buried into the pillows, whining like a brat, until he spanks you again, and you gasp, jutting forward with the force.

“Well, how I can refuse,” you hear him smirk, rubbing the pained flesh with his palm, and you coax back into his hold, bracing yourself for his cock. He’s rubbing it against your folds now, prepping you, teasing you...

“Do you want it inch by inch, or do you want me to thrust inside that cunt all the way,” he growls, pausing, pressed right up against your dribbling entrance.

“Shit,” you huff under your breath, physically having to strain just to hold yourself up. “All the way, all the way,” you repeat messily, face screwed up as you prepare yourself fully now.

“My pleasure,” he glees, wishing you Merry Christmas as he drives right into you. It would have been comical if you weren’t so overcome with pleasure, gasping for breath as your eyes roll back inside your skull.

“Oh, fuck,” you manage to get out, back arching.  “Santa, you feel so good.”

“So do you,” he grunts, beginning to move, rocking his hips experimentally at first, getting used to the feeling, before he begins snapping them into you harder, skin slapping on skin, and you can’t help but moan loudly, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, because you’ve been waiting so goddamn long for this…

“Fuck, you take Santa’s cock so well. You didn’t even need a warm up,” he groans, hands clamping around your hips.

“Mmm,” you moan, more incoherent noises leaving you as he pounds inside your durable heat. “Shit, keep going,” you pant, desperate for more, shifting your weight as you slip down.

He’s fucking you at lightning speed, his primitive urge fighting to the forefront of his mind as he grunts loudly, but still you need more. It’s all you can think. He’s all you need, and yet, you can never get enough. He’s addictive.

“Please, Santa, fuck me harder,” you cry out, head thrown back, hair cascading down your back.

“Harder?” He chuckles darkly. “Naughty girls aren’t allowed to make demands…”

“Please,” you beg, unbridled pleasure taking over your body, and you don’t care if your whimpering sounds pathetic. “I need more.”

He hums then, the deep sound rumbling through your body as he grips your ass cheeks. “Okay, but remember, you asked for it,” he warns, and then he’s spearing into, your whole body set alight as it shines with perspiration, yelling into the room as you’re jostled about.

He spreads your cheeks apart, making you gasp out, the line between pain and pleasure thin as he fucks you without relief. You’re on fire, burning from the inside out as you’re taken to another haven, one where pleasure controls your every move, every thought, every belief.

“Look at that pretty ass. It’s so temping…” he grunts, his thumb falling into the crack of your behind, and you give up fighting, head tumbling down into your pile of pillows, groaning like an animal, and then you slip up…

“Fuck, Namjoon—”

“Who’s that? Your boyfriend?” He interrupts through sharp intakes of breath, as he just. Keeps. On. Pounding. “Why are you thinking of him as Santa fucks you? Feeling guilty?” He taunts.

“I could never feel guilty while you’re inside of me,” you cry.

“Such a naughty girl…” He husks, a hand falling under your body, dangerously close to where you crave him a little, but he stops, as if he knows. As if he’s teasing you…

“Please, Santa, touch me,” you begin again, begging, your new favourite thing to do.  “I want to cum around your dick. Make me remember what an orgasm feels like.”

“You want my hands on you?” He asks, playing dumb and you nod as best you can when your head is already jiggling around like crazy.

As soon as his thumb reaches your clit you whimper, divine like pleasure hurtling through your veins. You’re so needy, he could probably pinch your clit and you’d explode, but instead, he rubs, encircling your hard bundle of nerves with the pad of his thumb.  

“Look how swollen you are, so fucking desperate for release…” he belittles, and you only grow hornier.

“Please,” you whine, but he’s already giving you everything, and you feel it. It’s finally time. It calls at you, holds you, drags you down into the centre of the screwed-up coil, before it pushes you back out again, exploding everywhere.

“Oh god, I’m coming! I’m really coming, please don’t stop,” you plea, rushed and high pitched, as Namjoon fucks you through your release.

And he keeps on going, even after you’re panting, thighs trembling, hair stuck to your forehead, body weak. He keeps on ramming into you at full force, and it’s so intense, you’re only filled with new life. He removes his hand, placing it at the small of your back as he steers your hips firmly, clamping you down, so now each thrust is more powerful, more determined than the last.

“Remember what I said? You’ll be begging Santa to stop soon,” he reminds you, taunting you.

But he’s wrong.

“A-ah, never!” You cry, arching your back into him. He could fuck you all night, you don’t care.

He chuckles, amused, but pleasantly surprised, thrusts losing momentum for a moment, as he adds, “maybe next year I can pay a visit again, and you’ll let me fuck that tight ass of yours.”

His words shoot through you, piercing your flesh like a thousand tiny knives. “Oh, fuck,” you groan, hiding your face as you gasp for oxygen. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He slaps your ass as he scolds you. “Such a dirty mouth…”

“Santa,” you grunt, voice muffled against the fluffy pillows. “I’d let you do anything to me.”

“Good to know,” you hear him shrug, and with that, he’s fucking you faster, as if he’s chasing his end now.

You must be tighter around him now, maybe even drying up with your past orgasm and excessive humping from Namjoon. The friction must be a killer for him, and you don’t understand how he’s lasted this long. But it still feels oh, so good for you. You can’t get enough, and now you can’t stop imagining him inside your ass too. It’s enough to light that match again, and to your surprise, you feel the familiar urge tearing at your lower abdomen.

“I’m—I-I’m—” you try to get out, words failing you because the pleasure is too much. You’re coming too soon after your last, and this only means it will be ten times more powerful.

“What was that?” He presses on, but he knows. Of course he does.

“I’m honestly going to cum again,” you blurt out with one long breath, and that’s all he needs to hear before he’s unravelling too.

“Fuck, baby, fuck,” he moans, losing his character.  “I can feel you squeezing around my dick like a vice—It’s gonna drop off—Cum for me,” he commands, or is he begging? You can’t tell, you can’t even think straight, both your throes of pleasure blurring into one, moans blending into one another, as he furiously thrusts into your now-raw vagina.  

“Cum for Santa, show him you’re a good girl, and maybe he’ll give you those presents…” He grits out, and it’s working. You’re coming—again. His attack on your g-spot proving too much.

“Namjoon,” you sob, holding your breath as your orgasm tears through you.

“I’m gonna cum too,” he rushes, skin slapping on skin louder than ever now. “Fill you up so deep that you won’t forget me.”

“Do it, Santa!” You pant, breathing erratic, as you fight for air.

He rams in you one more time before he freezes altogether, a pause, a groan, before streams of his cum are shooting deep inside you. He doesn’t move, he doesn’t breathe, just keeps his dick lodged inside your hot walls, desperate to get his arousal so far into you, you won’t be able to feel it.

When he does pull out, it’s slowly and strategically, one hand gripping an ass cheek to hold you in place, delayed grunts from him, shortness of breath, and quiet whimpers from you, even more so when you feel the emptiness he leaves you with. You’d have Namjoon in you forever if you could.

You feel the mattress dip as he crouches down again, and when he speaks you hear his voice between your legs. “Clench that pussy for me,” he asks, and you obey, desperate to keep all that come in you, because you know what’s coming next…  

“Then squeeze, I wanna see it trickle out.”

“Of course, Santa,” you manage to grin, tone saccharine again, because you know this is the last time you’ll get to use the word—well, for this year anyway.

You squeeze once, twice—a third time, before you feel the hot, runny liquid dribble out of you and congeal in the air, stuck to your swollen folds.

“Fuck yeah,” Namjoon awes, taking in the sight he loves so much. He loves knowing you’re his.

He shifts again, kneeling straighter, and you turn your head, desperate to see his face. He looks up at you, and instantly his gaze softens, a small ‘baby’ leaving him before he’s spinning you around, back landing on the soft mattress and he falls on you, kissing your mouth lovingly.

“Namjoon,” you breathe, pulling away slowly, because you really want to see his face, and you run your palm along his cheek.

“Fuck, babe, that was so hot!” He exclaims, and you giggle. Somewhere along the way his Santa hat had fallen off, and his hair is a mess, curled and limp in random places. “No word of a lie, I legit thought you were gonna make my dick fall off!”

You giggle again, shifting in his grip and he settles for wrapping his arms around you, falling to the side of your body.

“Are you okay?” He asks suddenly, mildly concerned because you haven’t said anything other than his name, and he’s been gushing like there’s no tomorrow.

“Kinda sore,” you admit, wincing as you stretch your legs out, and he instinctively begins rubbing your thighs, comforting you. “But it was so good,” you insist. Even though your limbs burn, it’s a good kind of burn. One that warms your whole body, leaves you sated.

“You did well, I can’t believe you stayed in character through nearly all of that,” you praise, proud of him. There’s usually at least one major slip up when you get a crazy idea like this.

“What can I say?” He brags, face smug. “Anything to please my woman,” and you reward him with a kiss, before he grimaces. “Although, I must admit, I didn’t realise I would be used as the butt of the joke…”

You chuckle, swatting him away. He’s too sensitive sometimes. “It was just collateral damage, baby,” you tell him, before running a finger down his bare chest, collecting the sweat that has stuck there. “You know you can make me cum like no one else.”

“Yeah, I do,” he grins, looking like the cat that got the cream. “Twice in a row!”

You roll your eyes playfully, placing your head on his chest now and look up at him as he flattens your hair down, pushing it behind your ear. “Can I have my presents now? For being such a good girl?” You ask sweetly, kicking your foot to the direction of the sack on the floor, and he chuckles, shaking his head.

“In the morning,” he tells you. “It’s not Christmas Day yet—besides,” he adds, “—we need a shower, like immediately,” proving his point by jutting his hips into yours, and you’re reminded of the sticky residue that stains your flesh.  

You sigh. The only way you’re moving is if Namjoon carries you to the bathroom…and you can tell by the pout on his face, he knows that all too well…

[queenmabscherzo]

I try to imagine at what point Steve decides to retire ? Is Bucky constantly massaging his knees and sore joints ? They always make sure a pack of icy hot on the grocery list ? Have the heating pad handy in the bed stand drawer ? Steve is so stubborn. Just another season Buck ! But Bucky is the voice of reason and says he deserves some more quality time with those lethal hips before Steve throws them old timer ?? Idk give me aging sappy men headcanons pls !!

OH MY GOD I’M SO SORRY I FORGOT TO ANSWER THIS SOONER!!!! i just loved it so much and kept putting it off bc i wanted to take time to give a good answer :’) :’)

at the end of holiday spirit ... that’s when steve thinks about retiring. he’s been in the NFL for 15 years, so like, that’s already HOF status

he’s body’s finally feeling it, you know? his elbow has probably been bugging him for a couple years. maybe had a surgery or two.

imagine if you will: the time steve breaks his leg during a game ... and someone on the team staff calls bucky .... oh my god ... that’s prob the only time bucky would straight up walk right out of an ASU practice and book it back to chicago to see steve

he would be sooo worried and also so heated and so nosy with the trainers!!!! and steve is like ‘buck lmao let them do their job’

broken bones aren’t a career-threatening, but they require patience and time .... lol steve would be sooooo frustrated on the sidelines

‘they said i need to wait two more weeks, but i’m feeling great buck, i’m thinking next sunday--’ ‘don’t you dare’

but anyway after 15 years, steve is moving slower. bucky tries to teach him some good, easy yoga poses that will stretch his back and loosen his hips, but steve is soooo stiff all the time

we know when bucky has bad days/migraines/etc, steve curls around him in bed and holds an ice pack to his neck and strokes his hair

when steve has bad days, it’s probably in the knees and the throwing arm. bucky would sit behind him on the couch and give deep massages, really digging into steves right shoulder

or they’ll sit in a steaming hot bathtub together, facing each other, so bucky can give him long, soapy foot rubs

anon, you are a genius i literally cannot top “i deserve some more quality time with these hips before you throw them old timer!” I’M CRYING I ‘M LAUGHING SO HARD

(”oh ya, i’ll show you quality time”)

also lbr steve is the last one holding out. bucky was obv the first to retire, then rhodey i presume, then isaiah (bc running backs never last that long), then sam (same goes for WRs), and a ton of Steve’s NFL teammates. so like ..... everything’s changing around him

i’m not sure what would put him over the edge....?

maybe it’s just a build up of everything around him. nick fury retiring and alex moving away? those are huge life changes.

he finishes the season when he’s 37, and before the next season starts, he prob announces that he’s going to retire. i can totally see him doing the kobe diva thing, where every stadium he visits gives him gifts and makes a Huge Deal out of it like “this is the last time Steve Rogers will play in the Superdome!” and other hilarious wonderful nice things.

and man. AFTER he retires? just imagine what he does with those hips and endless free time. bucky won’t be able to deal