#santa you better gift me a book

[rayatouillee]

my amazon wishlist :)

[steddieas-shegoes]

At ten years old, Eddie’s mama gets a raise at work just in time for Christmas. This is the same year Wayne works enough to set aside almost $200 for Eddie’s Christmas presents.

Eddie doesn’t know this, and he’s a kid who knows better than to expect more than a few things in his stocking and one or two “bigger gifts” -usually books or tapes- so it’s a surprise when his stocking is overflowing and there’s a huge box under the tree Christmas morning.

Even more surprising is that it’s labeled from Santa, and Eddie hasn’t believed in Santa for nearly three years despite everyone in his classes still believing. He bounces on his feet while he waits for Wayne to get his coffee, for his mama to finish making their special hot chocolate.

The year he gets his first guitar is also the year he finds out his mama can sing like a rock star.

It’s the year he finds out Wayne used to play bluegrass at a bar back home and probably could’ve made it big if he was willing to leave his sister.

It’s the year Eddie finds out he can play by ear and uses it to his advantage to learn all his favorite songs as soon as he figures out the chords.

And for years, he is quick to pull out his acoustic to learn something new, even when he manages to buy his electric with money from helping fix cars at the shop where his uncle’s friend works.

After he saves Hawkins, and his hands stop shaking enough for him to play, he asks Steve to bring his acoustic to the hospital so he can entertain himself. Steve shares a look with Wayne, then his mama.

“It, uh, didn’t survive…everything.”

Nothing broke his heart quite like hearing that.

He pretends it’s okay though, doesn’t want his mama and Wayne to feel worse than they already did about everything.

He tables his emotions until he’s alone that night, shortly after dinner when everyone goes home to get some rest before the next day of volunteering, and cleaning, and visiting.

He’s woken up in the middle of the night by the door opening, and even though the person coming in is trying to be quiet, the door creaks from the building settling funny during the “earthquake.”

“Steve?”

Steve turns and even in the dark, Eddie can see his blush.

He’s holding something.

Something big and guitar shaped.

“What have you done?”

Steve walks over to him and gently sets the guitar case in his lap.

Eddie opens it and sees a gently used acoustic with Eddie’s name now engraved on the side.

“Steve.”

“You can have nice things. You should have nice things. We don’t have many options right now, but at least you won’t get rusty.”

Eddie cried.

Steve held him.

And after Steve wiped his tears away and kissed his forehead—which was something they’d be talking about as soon as Eddie could focus on something other than the guitar in his lap— he played slower songs, songs that even Steve could recognize, until a nurse realized Steve was here past visiting hours and kicked him out.

When his mama saw it the next morning propped by his bed, she smiled knowingly.

“I see the boy followed through.”

“What?”

“He asked me all kinds of questions about guitars and what your old one looked like and if a used one would be okay. Don’t know how he found one so quick.”

“He’s pretty determined when he sets his mind to something.”

“I think he’s set his mind on you, baby.”

Eddie thought maybe she was right.

[thatsdemko]

better than it was - f1 grid

previous part (secret Santa) | masterlist

pairings: f1 grid x driver!fem!reader | warnings: NOT intended for minors + mentions of fingering (f receiving) + angst(ish)

a/n: the long awaited part 2 is finally here. enjoy!!!

it’s poor behavior to talk about this with Daniel. but he’s the only emotionally intelligent person left on the grid and he’s seemed to pick up your agitations.

“three months? you know, I can check that out for you—“

you place your hands hard against his shoulder and shove him into the wall, “this is not funny! my sex life is not a joke.” you growl in his direction.

Daniel was not the person to consult. he was a talker at heart and a gossiper. he wiggles his way into the drama, and exits before you can even have a last breath.

so leave it to him to reorganize the secret Santa cards and perfectly place your name into his hands. the two people under a serious dry spell that could make the desert laughable.

“so he set us up?” you stare blankly into the ocean blue eyes in front of you. his pink plump lips are covered in salt from the rim of his margarita.

“I didn’t know until last week. Lando talks too you know?”

lando. all night you’d consulted in him and he was riding right along on this plan. he knew for a fact he’d show up, even when you doubted. every time you pondered the hand writing or the meaning of the gift, lando stood right there with a faint smirk and evil laughter track in his head.

“I’m stupid to think you’d actually have the brains to do all this.”

he gasps, sarcastically placing a hand against his chest, “I have you know all the things said in the card were true. I’m offering you a special gift.”

rolling your eyes you take a sip of his margarita and place it back on the coaster, “it’s still no. I can’t have sex with you.”

“with me?” he seems appalled and you know he’s not faking this. there’s nothing wrong with him. he’s absolutely perfect, and the rumors that circle around about him scream fuckboy. so why should you even do it? all it will end up being is bad press.

and if the news ever got out that you two—rivaled drivers to be specific—were having a secret affair? you cannot imagine that no amount of damage control and PR training could save you two from this wreck.

its risky behavior, to be with him right now, but the dim lighting and closed down bar you’re in help hide yourselves to the world.

“you cannot be serious. you don’t know what’s said about you? I’ll have you know, women talk.” you scoff downing the last drops of tequila and sugar before sending the glass at the edge of the table.

“but this is different.” he corrects you, “we can fix each others problems.” he adds hoping to change the look on your face that screams of terror and fear. you know hooking up with him was a bad idea, but why’d it have to feel so good? why’d the sex in the back seat of his car make your body scream in ways it hasn’t before. why’d it have to be so attractive to hear him say your name when you sucked his cock? why’d all of this have to be so good yet so bad?

FEBRUARY 2024

it’s been three months…again.

it’d been three months since the best mind blowing back seat sex you’ve ever had. and now you’re back where this all lead you before. in a dry spell.

it didn’t help that preseason testing was around the corner, and Bahrain was just as dry and overheated as you were.

you stayed in your teams garage whenever you had the chance. you didn’t dare watch his car fly down the straights and turns of the track, and you didn’t dare wait up for him at night.

you were back to how things were before, just friendly.

however it felt irritating to him. to see that race suit hang against your hips, the fireproof show off every curve of your body. it pained him to watch you just walk off.

“you’re having problems again.” Lando announces, his voice startling you that you nearly lose your page in your book before tossing it aside on your bed.

“what are you talking about?”

“you never told me about December.” he redirects the conversation, seating himself on the edge of your hotel bed, “you always tell me this stuff.”

“not after I found out you were meddling this situation do I tell you this stuff.”

a blush covers his cheeks as he nervously scratches the back of his neck, “okay so I wasn’t totally innocent in this— but neither are you! you shouldn’t of opened your mouth to Daniel!” he exclaims rather loudly that you’re sure whoever shares the walls with you could hear.

huffing out a sigh, you tell Lando from start to finish everything that happened that night many moons ago. by the time you’re finished, Lando looks as if there was more to be told, but that was it. the story ended at him saying he’d call you and he never did.

“he never called?” Lando mumbles the words to himself, you can see he’s trying to connect the dots on maybe why he never called but you’d given up. you spent two weeks in that same rut Lando was in and decided it wasn’t worth it. you both got what you needed and that was the end of it.

“trust me, I’d know if he called, but the line has been silent.”

lando’s eyes widen, a lightbulb clicking, “I have an idea,” he stands up off the mattress and before you can stop him he’s sprinting out the door letting it slam behind him.

this is why you never talk to Lando Norris.

—

“so I never called.”

the words come from behind you, and while all signs tell you, you should turn around, you avoid it. you keep reading your book in hopes that maybe he’ll shoo along and take the hint.

“that’s it? after all that—“

“all that?” you say slamming the book shut. all that? you could not believe him. while the sex was good, and he was a natural at giving you pleasures, he also didn’t last. it took no more than one minute for him to come and that was the end of it.

“you really believe it was ‘all that’?” you turn to face him now to see the man you once spent an evening with. he looked different yet the same. there was more muscle to his body, more of a maturity than there was before.

“y/n, the deed is done. did you really think I was going to call?”

you can feel your heart plummet out of its cavity, thinking back to your early conversation, you always knew he never would. he ran his way around women often, and always left them to dry. he wasn’t ever going to call because that’s who he was.

“wow.” you say feeling as if all the air in your lungs were gone. like the only air left was the dry air of Bahrain and it wasn’t enough to keep you from falling, “after you said this was different. you played me with this stupid Christmas gift and now,” you pause. your chest tirelessly rose and fell trying to supply air, “now you expect me to what? forgive you? move on like all is well?”

shaking your head you stumble across the empty paddock to find somewhere—anywhere away from him.

you slam yourself into bodies, unable to look up from the blacktop pavement beneath your feet as you push yourself into the nearest garage and drivers room. slamming the door shut jolts whoever is in the room with you, he turns from his game to find you in the corner hunched over trying to breathe.

“Jesus, y/n.” Lewis pushed himself out of the chair he’s in and moves down to your level, “what’s the matter?”

“max.” you grit out through your teeth feeling tears threaten to spill, “fucking max.”

you can’t see the frown that takes hold of his lips, but you feel his arms quickly wrap around you making you safe in his embrace, “so your secret Santa sucked huh?” Lewis chuckles carefully place a kiss to your hair, “I assume he was awful then? didn’t fulfill your needs?”

a scoff unconsciously escapes your lips as a reply, “fulfilled his own then left. said he’d call, he never did.”

Lewis let’s out a sigh, pulling himself an inch away from you, “he didn’t—“ Lewis stops himself trying to find the right words, “you didn’t get what you wanted?” he exhales, watching you pull your knees into your chest trying to shrink into the corner.

“no.” you whimper softly feeling a heat wave across your face. it’s humiliating really is what it was. to know the entire grid left last season knowing of you dry spell and if word got around, they’d know yet again, you’d been let down. so what’s Lewis to do? be a horrible man and not give you the pleasures you deserve? you’re a woman after all, a woman who, simply put, just wanted to feel.

Lewis extended his arm towards you, his fingers brushing your cheeks, he pulls a few hairs off your tear stained cheeks, “darling,” he moves closer again, this time you can almost hear his heart beating out of his chest, you can smell the lingering scent of rubber mixed with his cologne, “all you have to do is ask, and I can show you.”

swallowing the lump in your throat you remove your knees from your tight grip and slightly part your thighs, “show me.” your voice feels small in the room, quiet like as small as mouse.

he’s gentle. closing the gap between you two, his lips carefully crashing against yours, teeth tug on your bottom lip and his tongue sneaks in. he’s more experienced at this than you are, you let him take control.

slipping his hand down your pants, his index finger swipes across your panties that are thick with moisture, “six months of this huh? must’ve been hard.” you cut off his chuckle with a kiss to his cheek, lips trailing down his neck, you’re sucking at his earlobe while his finger slips in your folds.

your breath hitches, a moan escaping your mouth that you just can’t control as you feel him pump you, his thumb run carefully across your clit. it’s pitiful, how easy it was. six months and not a single man had touched like Lewis did. not even max could get you like this.

“feels good, huh?” he asks, softly. watching your eyes roll to the back of your head while he continues to rub the bundle of nerves and feeling the need to add a second finger.

you’re taking him well, despite the shake in your legs and the pitiful lack of self control to stop yourself from coming so soon. Lewis doesn’t really seem to mind, he just undoes his pants, remove his underwear from around his hips, and hoist you up against the wall.

your head pounds against the wall, fingers gripping Lewis’s shoulders, his rhythm is short, sporadic like he too had been waiting six months to fuck someone. the two of you are at match for who’s the loudest in the drivers room, and if anyone was listening they didn’t seem to stop you two.

he’s long, no doubt. it’s painful how you’ve never thought of Lewis like this. like someone who needs someone so bad they do it in their room where almost everyone can hear them. he was a man with honor around these tracks, but fuck his honor. he’d rather give you the pleasure you failed to recieve months ago.

finally releasing the two of you pull away from each other and lie against the wall, bodies nearly toppling each other.

“was it anything like that? with max?”

you attempt to let out a laugh, but you’re out of breath panting from the recent activities.

“he didn’t last as long as you did.”

Lewis laughs pressing a kiss to your cheek, “some of us are more experienced than others.”

—

DEAR MAX,

looks like I gave her the one thing you couldn’t. merry belated Christmas to me.

— LEWIS HAMILTON

tags: @monzabee @lovelytsunoda @willowpains @vellicora @smartstupyd @bbxnny-bbxtch @asmoothoperator @surazim @whyamireadingthis @msolbesg @barcelonaloverf1life @landowecanbewc @uuzhanggggggg @champomiel @yagirlhayes @sugarvibez @omgsuperstarg @fluvsof @itsjustaninchident

[spnexploration]

A Christmas Case

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Dean drags you out of bed to go to a case, ruining your Christmas plans. But does he have a plan to make up for it?

Words: 1.1k

This is my submission for @spnfanficpond Secret Santa 2023 (ignore the fact it was posted in Jan 2024...) and is a gift for @apocalypseornaw ❤ Sorry for the delay!

Supernatural writing masterlist

“Come on, we’ve got a case,” Dean said, shaking you awake.

“Fu’ offfff,” you grumbled at him. “You’re not allowed in my room.” What you’d really like was Dean to stay in your room permanently, maybe some ravishing… But that was never going to happen.

He chuckled, “Just channel that energy to the monster. We leave in twenty.”

---

You sulked in the backseat. It was December 23rd, why the hell were you off on a case? You’d put in a little bit of effort at the bunker, getting a tree and some dollar shop baubles. That was all for naught, now.

Dean caught sight of you in the rear-view mirror. “What’s up with you, princess? We interrupt your beauty sleep?” You didn’t appreciate his teasing.

“I don’t see why monsters couldn’t give us the bloody holidays off.”

“It’s just another day in our line of work, don’t know why you got your hopes up.”

You glared at him. “Yes, how could I, when known Scrooge, Dean Winchester, was going to be trawling for cases at 6am on Christmas Eve Eve.” It was his own damn fault he wouldn’t be getting the present you’d spent a lot of time choosing for him.

“Hey! I didn’t even find it!”

You turned your glare to Sam, “Got anything to say, Second Scrooge Winchester?”

“I just have some google alerts set up, sorry.”

You crossed your arms.

“You might have been expecting a bit too much from a Christmas at the Bunker anyway,” Dean said in a tone of voice as if he was trying to make you feel better. “We’re not very good at Christmases.”

You rolled your eyes and looked out the window. The boys decided to let you be.

---

You decided to keep a tally of how many people said something about the FBI making you work so close to Christmas: you were already up to 4 and it was only mid-afternoon on the first day. Happily the drive hadn’t been too long from the bunker to the crappy town where the case was, so you’d been able to get started straight away.

There was a giant Christmas tree in the main street of town. You felt like it was mocking you.

You dragged your feet as you followed the boys into the library, conveniently still open. You wondered if Dean even realised everything was going to be closed on Christmas Day. Serve him right if he couldn’t get pie that day.

You half-heartedly trawled some books, not really contributing to the research effort.

“Sorry,” Sam said quietly as he came to sit by you. “I didn’t mean to ruin your holidays.”

“It’s alright,” you said, not really feeling it but not wanting to sound petty, either.

“I can tell you’re upset. Hell, even Dean can tell you’re upset.”

“You know, Dean’s better at reading people than people give him credit for,” you said, always quick to defend inappropriate criticism of Dean.

“Ok, you’re right, that was a low blow. But you’re still upset, and I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, solve the case fast enough and maybe we can do Christmas on Boxing Day at least.”

He gave your arm a friendly squeeze before standing up again and heading back to the shelves.

“I think I found it!” Dean called from somewhere. You stood to go find him.

---

It turned out to be a very quick case, over by late evening Christmas Eve. It was late enough that ordinarily you’d all head back to the motel room and go home early the next morning, but Dean suggested something different. “How about we head back to the bunker tonight, I’ll drive.”

“It’s pretty late,” Sam said, nursing a couple of injuries.

“You can sleep in the backseat until we get there. Won’t it be better to get to sleep in your own bed?”

“If you’re doing this for me, you don’t have to,” you said. “It’s fine, it’s just a stupid day. You don’t have to kill yourself driving late at night just for me.”

“No, come on, it’ll be nice to be back home.” He gave you that beautiful smile and you couldn’t help but melt.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. Sam mumbled agreement and so you all piled into the Impala, Sam stretched out on the backseat. He was asleep almost instantly, and you weren’t too far behind.

---

“Hey, hey,” you woke to Dean whispering your name and gently shaking your shoulder. “Wake up.”

You looked around blearily, this wasn’t the bunker. It looked like the middle of nowhere. You started to ask Dean, but he held up his hand.

“Shh, don’t wake Sam,” he said, still whispering. “Come out of the car for a sec, I’ll explain it all.”

You looked at him quizzically but followed, closing the door as quietly as you could behind yourself. Dean took your hand and pulled you around to the front of the car. Your heart was racing; this was different…

“I’m sorry Sam and I ruined the Christmas you had planned,” he said, standing very close to you. You looked up into his stunningly gorgeous face wanting nothing more than to kiss him, but knowing that he saw you like a little sister. “But I thought we could look for Santa delivering presents,” he said, gesturing to the huge expanse of the night sky you could see.

You laughed, “What am I, 7?”

“Well, ok, it doesn’t have to be Santa. But it’s a nice night for stargazing, and I wanted to make it up to you.” He reached up and brushed his thumb over your cheek. This was definitely new. You nodded in agreement and he took your hand again, pulling you up on to the top of the bonnet.

He scooted very close to you. You could feel his body heat, which was good in the freezing night air. You felt a wave of goosebumps break out over your skin, but you weren’t entirely sure if they were because of the cold or the proximity of Dean.

He reached behind him and grabbed a blanket you hadn’t seen was there, then put his arms around you and draped it across your shoulders. He was so close, so beautifully close. And yet, always so far.

He didn’t put his arms back down, like you were expecting.

He put a hand on your shoulder. What was he doing? He put his other hand on your cheek. So warm, so close. So... intimate.

You looked up into his big, green eyes.

He leaned in close.

Oh. Oh! This was happening!

His soft, Adonis-like lips were suddenly on yours. You closed your eyes and leant into the moment.

He pulled away, “Merry Christmas. Hope this makes up for having to be on the road.”

“Oh, this definitely makes up for it,” you said before capturing his lips again.

The stars looked down from above, forgotten.

.

.

.

Dean Winchester tag list:

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[shimonerin]

Secret Santa w/ the Jujutsu High Students

Content: Giving Itadori, Megumi, and Nobara their favorite gifts Tags: fluff Words: 1.7k

a/n: literally my first time writing again after a year or two and also my first time actually putting myself out there and posting lol I apologize if it's messy or lengthy TvT

Itadori Yuji

I feel like Yuuji would ask for a DVD/cassette collection of his favorite movies and TV shows since he really is a “TV child” and grew up watching those. And also because DVDs/cassettes are not really a thing nowadays, it kind of gives him nostalgia to be watching the same movies he used to when he was younger. 

Another thing I think he’d like is a snack basket. Just a basket filled to the brim with sweets and snacks and sodas. Just something he can eat and share with someone while he’s watching his shows.

Yuuji doesn’t ask for much and he’d be completely fine if you only managed to buy one of them or even a completely different gift. I mean, he’s basically going out every weekend in the cinemas and he’s more than capable of buying a few snacks for himself at the store. Everything else is just a bonus.

What he didn’t expect was for you to go out of your way to buy him everything on his wishlist and even gave him a meal voucher to one of the popular ramen restaurants in Japan. You know he likes rice bowls a lot and what’s better than giving him a voucher that’s worth at least three different rice bowls.

“No way! You bought all of this for me?” He exclaimed, his eyes gleaming with stars as he looked over the rack full of DVDs, a large snack basket, and a meal voucher. He could feel the tears well up in his eyes, seeing you make an effort into giving him something special. 

You smiled fondly at him, chuckling softly at his lightly pouting face “I might as well, right?” You tell him so casually, as if you didn’t just crawl your way into this man’s heart with your gifts.

Without a second thought, he threw himself at you, wrapping you in a tight, almost suffocating embrace before burying his face at the crook of your neck “You’re so awesome, you know that? I was secretly hoping you were my secret santa.” He murmured softly, which you find extremely endearing. Nobara and Gojo snickered behind you and you knew you’d find yourself in the middle of another teasing session over the next few days.

As soon as Yuuji let go of you, he grabbed both of your hands, holding it in front of your chest “We should definitely stop by that ramen restaurant later! You’ve only been there once, right?” He suggested as he shook your hands excitedly like a child.

As much as he wanted to hang out with his friends this Christmas, he didn’t want to miss out on some one-on-one time with you. He’s basically begging the universe for it so he wouldn’t trade it for the world or for an extra day of training. That can wait.

Megumi Fushiguro

I feel like Megumi isn’t even interested in joining Secret Santa. Poor boy was just forced by Gojo and Itadori lol. As he’s not interested in receiving any material gifts anyways, at most he’d probably just ask for a book.

He didn’t even give you any specific book he’d want you to buy so you had to ask Gojo “Oh, he’s not really into fantasy books, if that’s what you’re thinking,” He tells you as he leaned back onto the sofa “He’s leaning more towards nonfiction novels. Like the classics, you know?”

Heading straight towards the bookstore after training hours, you decided to go for “In Praise of Shadows” by Junichiro Tanizaki, simply because the title reminded you of his cursed technique. Though, the synopsis for the book isn’t too far off from his tastes.

Giving him only the book felt empty so you decided to look for mini figurines for his shikigamis at a nearby pottery shop. You wanted to give him something to symbolize his immense care for these animals, which was one of the things you loved the most about him. In the end, you had bought a total of 10 mini clay figurines. You placed it alongside the book inside a neat box with Japanese wrapping paper and a small bunny origami that resembles one of his shikigami on top to finish it off.

When it was time to give your gift to Megumi, he was quite impressed with the way it was wrapped but kept his reactions to a minimum “Ah, thanks.” He’d say, with a hand behind his neck

Only when he opens his present will you see the visible change in his expression. He pulls out the book and the mini figurines of the Divine Dogs, his gaze darting all over it in subtle fascination.

You purse your lips, tilting your head slightly “Do you like it?” You asked him, albeit a little nervously.

“Hey! Say something, won't you?” Nobara shouted, crossing her arms at the boy “Don't just sit there and stare!”

Megumi lifted his head off your bundle of gifts as he gazed back at your smiling face, a sudden feeling of happiness swelling in his chest but he kept it in.

“It’s…nice. I like it.” He spoke quietly, as if he’s only talking to you, blocking out all of the other sounds around him “You shouldn't have bought so much.”

He wanted to say more than that but his real feelings can't be summed up in a few words and he didn't want to come off so cheesy in front of his friends.

You laughed in response, waving off his words “No, no, I want to! You seem so indifferent with Christmas and I just wanted to give you something to smile about!” You lightly teased him, knowing you would have loved him either way.

At this point, Itadori and Nobara were forcing Megumi to smile for you as a joke, poking and prodding at his cheeks like they always do.

In the middle of the teasing session, you could definitely make out a small genuine smile from his otherwise stoic face, one that's easy to miss if you’re not looking closely enough. 

Later that evening, when you finally got home, you received an unexpected call from Gojo, saying “Hey, just called to tell you Megumi loved what you gave him.” He tells you “In fact, he’s arranging those figurines you bought him at his bedside table.”

Without a second thought, you could hear Gojo put his phone closer to Megumi’s room, as the faint sound of soft clashes of wood on wood fills your ears.

Gojo puts himself back on the call “Oh, and the book that you gave him? Yeah, he started reading it on the way home. Looks like you really got him this time.”

You couldn't help the smile slowly spreading across your face like a child “Really?” You say, trying not to let your voice give out what you're feeling “That’s…that’s great! Tell him to cherish it for me, Gojo-sensei!”

Unbeknownst to you, you were on speaker the whole time.

Kugisaki Nobara

Oh it was anxiety-inducing to think of what to give to Nobara. She’s a girl who knows her worth and knows exactly what she deserves. And while that was an aspect of her personality that you love and admire a lot, there’s only so much that you can do with your allowance.

Her wish list states that she wanted stylish clothing, accessories, or anything that looks good on her, given how much she loves shopping. Of course, she didn’t ask for Balenciaga or Onitsuka Tiger. She’s not that delusional.

But you can’t help as if every gift you’d think of wouldn’t be good enough for her. You only wanted to give her the best things because that’s when you’ll see her smile the brightest. And you’d probably do anything to see it on her all the time.

Over the weekend, you made a plan to go to Shibuya, going straight to the popular fashion mall, Shibuya 109. Entering one of the more affordable clothing chains in the establishment, you purchased a cute, oversized graphic tee for her. You also decided to buy her a box set of accessories like hairpins, bracelets, chains, and scrunchies.

Buying one last thing for her with the money that you have, you go to a local chocolatier and order a box of macaroons. Nobara has always been a fan of sweets, after all.

On Christmas Day, when it was your turn to give your gifts, you glanced towards Nobara who was sitting beside you before handing her a beautifully wrapped gift with a ribbon on top.

“Merry Christmas, Nobara. You’re gonna love this.” You’d sweetly say as she widened her eyes, delicately loosening the ribbon string.

As soon as her eyes landed on the top you bought for her, chic accessories, and the box of macaroons, she couldn't simply contain her excitement.

Her eyes were basically stars as she immediately tried on the shirt, twisting and turning to see how it looked “(Y/N), this is gorgeous!” She exclaimed 

Opening the box of accessories next, she quickly tried on the hairclips and wore the bracelets, hurriedly trying them on all at once “Where did you buy all this? It honestly looks so good.” She asked you, a wide smile plastered on her face

You scratched the back of your head and grinned “I…I honestly went to Shibuya this Saturday. I thought I might find you something different from the shops there.”

She immediately dropped everything she was holding and perked up in interest “And you didn't bring me with you? That would have been the best Christmas gift you could give me!” She says, her warm hands immediately wrapping around yours “Then maybe you shouldn't have spent all your money on me. I heard some stores there are so expensive.”

Your grip on her hand tightened into a gentle squeeze “You don't need to worry. I got my money's worth so it’s okay, really.” You reassured her.

You could see the tears forming on her eyes, only for her to wipe it off as she pouted “Well, at least let me share my macarons with you!” She tells you before picking one from the box and feeding you a strawberry cream-filled flavor macaron.

Nobara made a promise to be the one to take you to Shibuya next time and even go as far as to spoil you, even when you told her not to. 

How could she not? She’s so picky with everything but you’re the only one who seems to pinpoint her tastes so well. She’s never met anyone who could match her as good as you do so she’ll make sure to return the favor.

Happy holidays x

[angsthology]

“and this is...?” — or an alt title: secret santa time (and maybe santa’s secret too?)

it’s that time of the year!

a/n hehe this was fun to write and i had more fun looking for gifts for her

THE KANGAROO VS. THE WORLD

“who is it?” the interviewer asked, trying to read the expression on the driver’s face as she reads the small piece of paper.

she nods with satisfaction, turning the paper around to face the camera. on it read: oscar piastri.

“i’m actually alright with this.”

“yeah?”

“yeah, i feel like i could do this. i’m happy with this.”

“would you consider yourself and oscar close?”

the driver made a face in thought before she spoke, “uh—not really. i mean, if i’m being honest, i haven’t really been that great of a person this entire year—like, i’m just going to say this, cause, y’know, it’s not really a secret, everyone’s noticed it: i’ve been pretty distant from everyone so really, i haven’t exactly took the time to get to know this year’s rookies, especially oscar.” she paused, mulling over everything she just said, “why did i feel like i just ended up oversharing?”

she chuckled awkwardly before (still very much awkwardly) leaving—she bowed her head slightly, for some reason.

“okay, i was definitely way ahead of myself.”

the younger girl looks up from her textbook to see her friend flopping down on the single couch on her front left, huffing then turn towards her.

“help me.” she said, then noticing the large textbook in her hand, giving her a judgy look, “what the hell are you doing? it’s winter break.”

daisy-mae rolled her eyes, “for you, yeah, me; i still gotta suffer for a couple more weeks.” then remembering something, “actually—no, you’re in this too!”

she shrugged meekly, eyes turning downward avoiding her friend’s slowly death-turning glare.

“no!” the brown-haired girl whined in disbelief.

“yeah—”

“dude!”

“sorry, chee.”

“you graduated early?!”

“i’m sorry, okay! they offered me and by proper calculations it was the better option! i was dying enough already this year i needed to at least let go of one weight!”

daisy-mae scoffed, “is there anything you can’t do?”

from across the room came a snort, “math.”

the racer pointed at her standing friend in agreement.

“whatever.” she huffed, going back into her book. “—congratulations. can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“i didn’t see the big deal.”

oh now she really brought her out.

at that, daisy-mae abandons her textbook and faced her friend, “are you kidding me?! you graduated university all-the-while being a very busy athlete? it’s more than important! we could’ve celebrated!”

roo couldn’t help but smile at her best friend. she truly didn’t deserve her.

nika, unbothered to the previous conversation, walked over with an open tub of ben and jerry’s and flopped down next to where daisy-mae sat on the large couch.

“we’re getting off topic here—”

“dude! that’s my last one!”

ignoring the flat-owner’s complaint, she continued after a spoonful of the ice cream, “—so, piastri?”

at that, roo covered her face and groaned loudly.

“so dramatic.” commented nika, grabbing another spoon, “he is australian, correct?” by now the racer had moved seats and snuggled herself next to the last spot on nika’s right on the couch—the three of them now smushed together on the same couch.

“yeah, so?” she replied, taking the spoon off of her friend’s hand and grabbing one bite of her own.

“get him a big jar of vegemite or something,” she says as she swallows her ice cream and snatching the spoon back from roo.

the latter blinked, the girl on the other side of the couch stopped in her tracks too, both of them then slowly turning their head to look at the girl in the middle happily scooping another spoonful.

roo then moved her eyes to look at daisy-mae instead, “is it bad that i’m considering that as an option?”

“a little.”

then, out of the blue, the racer’s eyes widened in revelation and without saving another word she bolted off the couch into the corridor into all the rooms. leaving nika and daisy-mae to stare at each other in confusion.

minutes later, she came back holding a basket of her (daisy-mae’s) crochet supplies.

the two girls paid her no mind as they all went back to their own things.

“tada!”

nika, unable to hold it in, accidentally let a squeak escape her.

roo’s shoulders slumped at that, her expression falling to an unamused one. “you’re the worst.”

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry! it’s cute! seriously,” then she burst out a little (big) laugh, “like a toddler had made that.”

“alright,” still very much unamused, she dropped the attempted kangaroo crochet in her hand to her side then moving to walk away.

atticus, ever the great friend he is, walked over to her front and grabbed both her shoulders affectionately, “it’s okay, it really is cute. it’s the thought that counts.”

“sunny, i assure you, no one wants my thought.” she countered, walking away towards the couch. “may as well order that vegemite now.” she grumbled, sitting next to the cat and dog happily snuggling on her couch. petting the cat, she complained once more, “i don’t get it, i can literally crochet anything else but a kangaroo? i’m the kangaroo.”

confused, nika furrowed her eyebrows—now sitting comfortably on the couch next to her friend, “the hell does that gotta do with anything?”

“it means that, if i’m the kangaroo and i can’t crochet a kangaroo what does that mean for myself—like, do i even know myself?”

the other three in the room blinked, looking at each other as if the other would have an answer.

alas, nika was the first to comment, giving the racer a judgy—and confused still—look, “you just gave me an aneurysm. look; it means nothing, okay? just because you have a psychology degree now does not mean you gotta overanalyze everything, seriously.”

taken aback, she looks at her friend, “have i really been doing that?”

“yes. now just wrap the damn gift.”

“wow.” the australian opened the paper bag and grabbed the first thing he saw. holding it up with his hands, he inspects it closely, “this is…” he trailed off, still looking at the item in his hands, “—what is this?” he chuckled awkwardly asking the person behind the camera.

they couldn’t help but laugh too, though much more genuine, less confused, “i think it’s a kangaroo.”

he paused. inspect it once more before looking back at the camera, “—you think?”

in response, they just shrugged.

oscar, still in doubt, stares at the deformed plush of sorts for another good minutes before moving on.

his face unchanged in its usual flat state, though his eyes gave away the slight shift in his mood when he pulled out the large yellow jar of vegemite out of the paper bag.

showing the logo to the camera, he says while dead-staring into the camera (again), “very nice. thank you to—whoever.”

“can you guess who it’s from?”

still inspecting it—though now trying to figure out who it’s from rather than trying to figure out what it is, he looks back into the camera and tried to guess her name first.

and to his surprise (but also not really), “it is!”

“ohh, alright. i mean, i always thought she was someone who crochets but i never thought…” he wanted to finish his thought, he did, until he remembered that his actions has consequences and he isn’t exactly fond of facing the consequences.

“there’s a note,” the person informs.

oscar then looked into the paper bag once more, finding the said note. when he pulled it out, the small card had two cartoon dogs with reindeer ears on and a cat with a santa hat in the middle, below it says ‘meowry christmas!’ he chuckled at the cover then continue to open it.

“merry christmas, oscar! (or is it ‘aurscar’?),” he read then looking towards the camera, “that’s a first,” then he goes back to reading the card, “i promise i’m not this bad. i am actually very good at crocheting other things but i hope you like your gifts! love, me!” he finished reading and put the card down on the table in front of him, grabbing hold of the two gifts back up, he smiles, “thank you, for the gifts. i appreciate them especially the vegemite, i think. from one kangaroo to another.”

“are you excited?”

“very.” she says with a smile, hands ripping open the wrapping heartlessly.

she had already tried to guess what was inside, feeling a soft plush-like feeling underneath the crispy deer-patterned wrapping paper.

“how thoughtful of you,” her publicist comments sarcastically at her unwrapping skills.

ignoring her tone, she continues to break apart the paper, “why thank you, did you know how hard it was making oscar’s gift?” she paused her abuse on the wrapping paper to look at the camera—seriously? jokingly? no one knew.

finally, she was met with the gift(s) in hand. the first thing she saw being the large kitten plush inside of a wicker basket and she instantly recognize it.

“it’s the rock-a-bye kitten jellycat!” she exclaimed with the biggest smile on her face, showing off to the camera her large kitten in wicker basket. when she picked it up, she could feel the heaviness the basket carried—heavier than what a plush would weigh. her first instinct was to take the cat out of the basket and when she did, she couldn’t hold in the laughter that made its way to her lips. her smile was wide enough already before, the sight she was met with somehow made her smile bigger. she pulled it out and faced it to the camera, “guess we know who this is from,” she smiled goofily holding up the calendar with the white man’s ass on it.

still laughing, she puts the calendar down white a head shake, “thank you, valtteri! now i don’t need to find one for next year.”

when she thought she was done, the woman behind the camera informs, “there’s another one.”

“huh?” she looks at her confusedly before shuffling around the torn up pieces of paper on her lap. when she saw what was left in it was, her jaw dropped.

pulling them out, she puts at the camera, “new drumsticks!” she inspects the two pieces on her hand with a small smile, “ah! and it has my nickname on them too!” still pouting in disbelief she smiles at the camera, “this is so good. thank you, again, val, such great gifts.” then she remembered, “oh, right! the card! hold on,”

she shuffled for the card once more and open it happily, “‘dear, kid, merry christmas, i hope you have a great one, here’s some things i know you’d like and a little something for next year. always a pleasure working with you.’” she smiles looking as if she was holding back a cry and hugged the card to her chest.

she waves with a smile at the camera, “kiitos valtteri! hyvää joulua!”

(“thank you, valtteri! merry christmas to you!”)

bonus, 2022:

“so, who did you get?”

she smiles, “lando!”

“any idea what you’re going to give him?”

she pauses with a hum in thought, then a smile cracked in her lips. looking into the camera mischievously, “his first win, maybe.”

(she did not, in fact, got him that. she crocheted him a frog hat and one of those singing fish wall decoration.)

te1enovia

liked by f1porsche, danielricciardo, and 5,735,635 others

tagged: daisymaerose, selvnika, and atticusingh

te1enovia merry christmas from ur resident racer girl, scholar girl, and jobless girl <3

(and my favorite boy 🤏)

see all 2,826 comments.

f1porsche merry christmas cuties 🎄☃️❄️✨️

liked by te1enovia

mickschumacher merry christmas!!

liked by te1enovia

atticusingh was the tag... to hurt my feelings?

selvnika atticusingh yes

te1enovia atticusingh nooo it just means u were there TO ME

schupastry te1enovia lovesick i tell you

backbiteroo schupastry DONT DO THAT. please. i need her to be single for ME

fiftyfivetexts sooooo.... are we gonna talk abot ur favorite boy??????

backbiteroo fiftyfivetexts its reggie please PLEASE

selvnika how DARE you

te1enovia selvnika yeah, i do

selvnika te1enovia i have power over ur sponsorship.

te1enovia selvnika ur father does. and he loves me more.

gaslytv te1enovia GET HER JADE

formulasos merry christmas to our favorite girlies!!!!!

f1porsche

liked by mickschumacher, te1enovia, and 5,069,726 others

tagged: te1enovia and mickschumacher

f1porsche merry christmas from our team!!! <33 🎄☃️❄️✨️

see all 726 comments.

te1enovia YOU GUYSSS 🥹🥹🥹

f1porsche te1enovia 😋❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

mickschumacher ☃️☃️

f1porsche mickschumacher ❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

taglist; @treehouse-mouse @disneyprincemuke @yansbolobao @leilanixx @judespoision @vellicora @bborra

[montrealmadison]

in your palace warm, mighty king

okay i’ve recently found myself on angel tree tiktok. if you’re unfamiliar with the concept, basically, some stores will put out a tree around the holidays with gift tags for anonymous local kids, and people coming in to do their own shopping can take a tag off the tree and buy kids gifts off their wishlists for the store to pass off to them. (the linked video shows it in action!)

anyway this got me thinking about jack zimmermann at the beginning of his career. he has been fabulously wealthy and privileged for his whole life, but he’s only recently started earning a massive salary of his own and has no real idea of what to spend it on. he’s comfortable. he has a car and a nice apartment and an engagement ring hidden somewhere in said apartment. he knows he should probably donate to a worthwhile cause, but he hasn’t figured out what.

one day, though, bitty’s visiting for the weekend and comes to the store with him, and right there in the entryway, he just… stops. jack doesn’t notice and consequently almost runs him over with the cart.

“you alright? careful, eh?”

bitty does not respond, because he’s looking at the tree.

“bud?”

jack follows his gaze. it really doesn’t look like much. it’s fake, unlit, and has seen better days if the way it’s a little flattened on one side is anything to go by. there is an equally squashed-looking stuffed snowman sat on the floor next to it. it’s the kind of thing your eyes slide over easily, hurrying from one place to another. blink and you’ll miss it.

bitty isn’t blinking.

“lord, i haven’t seen one of these in years,” he says. his voice is soft. he still isn’t looking at jack. “do you know what it is?”

jack doesn’t, so bitty explains. and when they inch closer, jack sees that all the ornaments he thought were plain paper before are actually printed with ages, shoe sizes, requests for warm coats and toys and cute jeans and deodorant. here and there is a specific wish—a bluetooth speaker. a particular board game. one kid, age eight, is fervently hoping for a bike.

and—okay. here’s the thing. they’ve been together for more than a year, and bitty is pretty willing to go along with jack’s desire to spoil him. but although he’s so open and accepting when jack wants to kiss him, or cook dinner for a change, or lay him out on their bed and make him feel good—he will always, always get uncomfortable where significant amounts of money are involved. it was the subject of the one and only fight that sent them to bed still heated. the fundamental difference between their upbringings is the hardest for them to grasp: jack has never known a life without plenty. and bitty—

“i think my parents put me on one,” bitty says. “the year we moved back to madison, after—”

the closet looms between them, black and yawning.

“well. you know. coach had to leave a good job in lawrenceville. took us a while to get back on our feet, i think. and that year, they couldn’t—i mean, i heard them talking at night about how we might not be able to make christmas work, when they thought i couldn’t hear them. but i still wrote my letter to santa, and there were a couple presents when i woke up christmas morning, so.” he scuffs one shoe on the industrial carpet. “maybe an angel sent ‘em.”

the words make something sizzle down jack’s spine and settle low in his gut. he steps forward, reaches out, turns over the nearest tag.

boy, age 11. shoe size: 8. wishlist: sneakers, earbuds, basketball, patriots merch, chapter books. loves fantasy and mythology.

once upon a time, jack spent three months in a rehab center designed specifically for the privacy needs of celebrity clients. his parents footed the bill, had the windows on all their cars tinted for him to hide behind when he got out. at the same time, thousands of miles away, bitty sat at the top of the stairs in his parents’ house and listened to them wonder if they could afford to keep the magic of christmas alive another year.

people are stepping around them to get out of the cold, now, their eyes skipping right over the tree and the boys in front of it. once upon a time, strangers on the street picked apart jack’s overdose like a piece of tabloid gossip. strangers on the street made sure a thirteen-year-old kid had something to unwrap with his family on christmas morning.

“bits?”

bitty sniffles, swipes at one eye with the sleeve of his sweater. “yeah?”

jack lifts the tag gently off its branch, catches bitty’s gaze. bitty’s intake of breath is so sharp it’s audible over the music playing overhead. do you see what i see?

“what do you think? wanna go get us another cart?”

[headkiss]

Hi hun hope you’re staying warm! I’m sorry this is a last minute holiday one! I was wondering you could write a Christmas Eddie x reader where the party all do secret Santa and Eddie ends up getting reader? They aren’t dating just crushing and Eddie is freaking out because he wants to get her something really special *cue Dustin’s help* and it ends on a sweet note. Thank you! ❤️

hi love!! i hope this is good <3 it’s my gift to u, merry christmas | 0.7k, fluff, fem!reader

Secret Santa was a great tradition amongst your friends, and when Eddie joined the group, you were all happy to have another name in the hat.

It’s the second Christmas with Eddie around and you can’t deny that the holidays feel better with him. Brighter. You also can’t deny how much you like him.

You’ve grown close, and he’s so much more than what you were expecting. The crush started out as just that, a crush, and grew and grew until it became something huge. A certain four letter word kind of huge.

Though you’re clueless to it, the same goes for Eddie. He’s convinced that he was in love the moment he met you. His world shifted, something clicked into place.

That’s why his stomach drops when he picks your name for secret Santa this year.

He likes you so much—loves you, even—and he knows he has to get something special. He cares more about whether or not you’ll like your gift than he ever has for anyone else and it’s stressful.

Naturally, he goes to Dustin for help.

“Listen, it has to be really good,” he says. “Like really, really good.”

“You’ve said that like ten times,” Dustin replies, his usual sass present as always.

“Because it’s true! Help me.”

“Doesn’t she like to read?”

“Yeah. Loves it.”

“Get her a book. Problem solved.”

“Wow, thank you so much, Henderson. A book. How special,” Eddie deadpans.

“Make it special, Eddie. You know, with your pizzazz.”

Make it special with your pizzazz. What the fuck is he supposed to do with that?

Days later, Eddie finally figures out a special present to do with books. He worries over and over that it’s stupid, that you’ll hate it, but it’s the best thing he’s come up with (thanks to Dustin, after all).

Secret Santa occurs on Christmas Eve, and that’s where you are now.

Eddie greeted you with a hug when he saw you, holding you tight longer than usual, trying not to obviously breathe you in. Your smell, your comfort. When you pulled back, he was almost stunned by how pretty he finds you.

It’s not a new thought. He notices constantly, but sometimes it just hits him. He blames the holidays for it this time. You’re wearing a Christmas sweater vest, a plain long sleeve beneath it, and jeans. It’s perfect on you.

“I like your outfit,” he says, when he really means that you’re the prettiest person in the entire world, he thinks.

“Thanks, I like yours too,” it’s the same as he always wears, but he knows you mean it.

He’s a mess when the gift exchanging starts, his leg bouncing. He wants you to like it so much. He hardly notices when it’s his turn to pass his present, lost in his head.

“Eddie?” You move to catch his gaze.

“Hm?”

“It’s your turn.”

“Oh, sorry.” He grabs the present he spent way too long wrapping, hands it to you slowly, “Merry Christmas.”

When you take it from him, your fingers brush. Even after the contact, they’re left burning with the memory.

You unwrap it gently, like you’re trying to savor it. Eddie watches your face the entire time, eyes searching for any reaction. What he gets is a look, your mouth in the shape of an ‘O’ from surprise.

“You didn’t,” you say.

A chorus of ‘what is it’s sound from your friends. You’d almost forgotten they were there, too.

“It’s a first edition,” Eddie says.

A special book. Your favorite one, first edition, with a card tucked away in its pages for you to find later.

“Eddie, this is perfect.”

“You like it, then?”

“Are you kidding?!”

At his shy smile you can’t hold yourself back from springing up to hug him. He’s still sitting, unprepared, so you lean down and wrap your arms around his shoulders. His come around your back quickly.

You bury your face in his neck, press a kiss that’s so light Eddie’s not sure if he dreamt it, and mumble, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome, babe.”

With his arms around you, Eddie decides that he’s going to ask you out as soon as you’re alone. He can’t keep hiding his feelings when you’re the only person he’s ever felt them for. They practically seep out of him now.

Robin leans over to Steve, “how much you wanna bet they’re dating next time we see them?”

[smoshpvnk]

120+ misc ship questions! ✨

pick a ship, then headcanon these questions to your pairing <3 some of these are smosh centric but they’re open for anyone to use!

1. who rushes to open doors for the other?

2. who drives more often?

3. who is more eager to jump in the shower with the other?

4. who takes self care more seriously?

5. what’s a song that reminds you of them?

6. what’s another couple / duo (real or fictional) that reminds you of them?

7. which one keeps more things because they’re sentimental?

8. which one tells their parents about their partner first? how does it happen?

9. whose family are they more likely to stay with during holidays?

10. whose parents are / were stricter?

11. who uses more emojis?

12. where was their first date?

13. what’s their favorite game to play together (any kind)?

14. which one spams posts / links to the other?

15. who is the black cat and who is the golden retriever?

16. what mythical creature / monster would they each be? (vampire, werewolf, dragon, fairy, etc.)

17. who urges the other to go sing a karaoke duet with them?

18. what is their karaoke song?

19. who is more likely to serenade the other at random moments?

20. who stares at the other from across the room?

21. who brings a shopping haul of clothes home and who watches their fashion show?

22. who insists on paying when they go out to eat?

23. who is more impulsive?

24. who is ‘everything’ and who is ‘just ken’? /ref

25. whose main goal its it to make the other blush?

26. who is first to know about a new trend, meme, slang, etc.?

27. who gets up early to make the other breakfast?

28. who insists they are their pets’ parents?

29. do they have pets together? what kind, what names, etc.

30. who is more of an animal whisperer / befriends wild animals?

31. who has more patience?

32. who insists on fixing something themselves, and who would rather call a repair service?

33. who turns something into an innuendo first?

34. who takes longer to understand a joke or reference?

35. who hides in the other’s arms during a horror movie?

36. who is more jumpy / scared easily?

37. who makes more movie references?

38. who thinks die hard is a christmas movie, and who doesn’t?

39. who talks more during a movie?

40. who carries the other bridal style?

41. what are their thoughts on marriage?

42. what’s the last name situation when / if they get married? (who’s last name do they take, do they keep theirs, do they hyphenate)

43. who wants the less traditional wedding?

44. where do they get married, and where do they honeymoon?

45. where is their favorite place to travel?

46. what do they do on vacation?

47. which one overpacks and which one underpacks?

48. who is the yapper and who is the napper?

49. which one is a lighter sleeper?

50. who is the moon and who is the sun?

51. who collects more? (figurines, pokemon cards, etc)

52. who is more excited to decorate for the next holiday / event?

53. who stopped believing in santa later than the other?

54. do they want kids together? give me all the details - names, what traits they inherit, etc.

55. who is a stricter parent and who is more lenient?

56. who reads a book, and who reads over the other’s shoulder while cuddling?

57. which is booba and which is kiki? /ref

58. who believes in soulmates and who doesn’t?

59. who gets nostalgic more easily?

60. who is more of a perfectionist?

61. who hosts more parties?

62. who makes handmade gifts more often for the other?

63. which one is more formal when answering emails?

64. who prefers skinny jeans and who prefers baggy jeans?

65. who’s better at roasting the other?

66. who initiates more pda?

67. which one is better at censoring their language, and which has less of a filter?

68. who insists on being player one?

69. which one snores like “honk shoo” and which snores like “hoooonk mimimi”?

70. who gives more forehead kisses to the other?

71. what does their future look like?

72. which one believes in astrology more?

73. what was their first kiss like?

74. who steals the other’s clothes more often?

75. who steals the other’s food more often?

76. do they believe in ‘celebrity hall passes’? if so, which celebrities are theirs?

77. what matching couples costumes do they wear?

78. who is naturally more cold / more hot?

79. which is more extroverted?

80. how do they celebrate valentine’s day?

81. what’s a holiday tradition they have? (ex. presents before breakfast on christmas)

82. what niche pet names do they have for each other?

83. who hates small talk and would rather have deep conversations?

84. what’s their icebreaker / olive branch after a disagreement?

85. what kind of food or restaurant is their favorite to get together?

86. who believes in conspiracies more?

87. which had their friends tries to set them up?

88. think of your favorite movie, then incorporate your pairing into it somehow and talk about it.

89. when they’re separated in public, what do they yell out to find each other?

90. professors!au. what subjects would they teach?

91. ghostmates!au. who is the ghost that haunts the other?

92. soulmates!au. how are they connected? do they have matching tattoos, names written on them, etc.

93. punk x pastel!au. which is which?

94. historical!au. what time period are they in? what are they up to?

95. hospital!au. who’s the doctor, who’s the patient, and how did they get in that situation?

96. massage parlor!au. who is the masseuse, who is getting the massage?

97. angel x demon!au. who is the angel and who is the demon?

98. gender swap!au. what are their names? (ex. anthony is antoinette)

99. superpowers!au. are they hero and sidekick? mortal enemies? villain duo? what powers do they have?

100. timeloop!au. who is stuck and who helps them out of it?

101. royalty!au. who is the royal and who is the knight / guard / maid etc.?

102. magic!au. what kind of magic do they use?

103. who uses uppercase while texting and who uses lowercase?

—

nsfw / suggestive ⚠️

1. what’s their favorite position?

2. who uses their mouth/teeth/tongue more?

3. who uses their hands/nails more?

4. who is a bit more adventurous?

5. who is more willing to go to a sex shop in person, and who is more embarrassed?

6. who is more into dirty talk?

7. who is more into eye contact?

8. what was their most risky / adventurous experience?

9. who likes to bite, and who likes to be bitten?

10. what is their favorite sexual activity to do together / to the other?

11. which is more dominant / which is more submissive?

12. what was their first time like?

13. who likes to be spanked more?

14. who sends dirty texts more often?

15. mile high club? yes or no?

16. what’s something they reserve for special occasions?

17. how long into their relationship did it take for them to have sex?

18. how often do they have sex?

[arianatwycross]

Hi my tumblr name is arianatwycross (this is not my real name but you may call me A or Ari) I'm a pommy that lives in Australia, I have a golden retriever that owns my heart and I'm addicted to cheesy romance novels.

I write mostly Jily but have been known to delve into Romione and am dipping my toe in some wolfstar!

last updated 18.03.24

Jily

Multi-chapters:

The Process of Wanting- University Muggle AU / Jily-microoops March prompts

Headlines - Muggle AU / Popstar James

once upon a dream - WIP Hogwarts AU / Lily has a crush

To send or not to send? - (Two Parts) 2023 April Jily Challenge / Theme: Letters, Notes and Texting

A (not so) bad day - (Two Parts) - Hogwarts idiots in love

We'll be a fine line -WIP a chapter a day for jilytober 2022 / a muggle au

Only for the Summer -WIP Rated E / Muggle Job AU / Friends to Lovers

Beach Reading -  Rated T. July 2022 Jily Challenge / Theme: Summer Prompt: “i really, really need this summer job, so please stop distracting me with your wiles/good looks. you’re going to get me fired”

The Art of Fake Dating - WIP written with @vertraymer / For the Mixed Up Writer Fest 2022 / Prompt: Fake dating AU!

Unlearnable - WIP, Rated M. Muggle AU. Angst.

Strawberry Lipstick State of Mind - Rated E. Canon. Seventh Year.

Just a touch - Rated E

Teenage Kicks - Rated E / Celeb AU with minor wolfstar

you are the sun - Rated M (Three-parts) Muggle AU/Secret Relationship

One Shots:

Skinny Dipping Part 1 - a jilymicrofic

Just the two of us - Hogwarts / Forced proximity, Hurt/Comfort

A Sweet Meet Cute - Muggle AU, small town romance

A romance of their own - Jily Valentine Gift Exchange 2023 / Celeb AU

Wet, Cold & Bothered - Rated M / 2022 Jily Challenge December Christmas challenge; prompt: Snowball fights

Muggle Christmas Traditions - Rated G/ 2022 December Christmas Jily Challenge. Prompt: The night before Christmas

The One Where Remus Has no Filter - Rated G. Jily Challenge December Christmas challenge

a year and 22 days - Rated T. Summer of Jily 2022 / lyric: all that I know is you caught me at the right time —"golden hour" (kacey musgraves) Scenario: late evening with friends in the garden

The One Where Petunia Can't Drive - April JilyChallenge / Meet uglies + prompt "i hit you with my car/broom and was the only one to visit you in the hospital"

two fools - Rated T / Feb 2022 Jily Challenge romance theme + prompt " “It’s not like I've thought about kissing you, or anything…”

Shut up & Kiss me - Rated M / December Jily Challenge, Winter theme. Muggle AU

Crush Phase - Rated T. Muggle AU

A Year Later - Rated M / Jily Challenge August 2021 . Muggle AU

consciously unaware - Rated GA / Jilytober 2021 bingo (5 prompts in one). Canon, friends to lovers.

Say my name - Rated M. Canon.

Romione

Multi-chapters:

Backseat Rider - Rated T / Muggle AU

One Shots:

Willow - Rated GA. Written for M.Windsor for the 2021 HP Romione Discord Secret Santa!

It’s better In the front seat… - Rated M (Backseat Rider One shot)

Confessions - Rated E / Canon

Books & Freckles - Rated T

Nobody Compares - Rated T / Muggle AU, professional football player Ron

Wolfstar

Skinny Dipping Part 2 - a wolfstarmicrofic

Teenage Kicks Spinoff coming soon!

[rubyreduji]

Baby Please Come Home — hjs

summary: they’re singing deck the halls, but it’s not like christmas at all

tags: fluff, established relationship, idolverse, gn!reader wc: 2.9k an: it’s predictable but still cute okay leave me be

“Y/N! There’s something for you outside the door!” You emerge from your room to see your roommate standing at the front door.

You haven’t ordered anything recently so you aren’t sure what it is. When you reach the door you see it’s not a normal package either. It’s a box wrapped in shiny red wrapping paper with a bow on top, just like a Christmas present. 

You pick it up and look at the tag on it. To Y/N, From Your Secret Santa.

You frown a bit in confusion before moving to the couch to open the present. You carefully unwrap the present to reveal a normal box under it. When you open that box you find a pile of clothes and a bag of candies for you. The clothes are adorable and definitely your style and the candies are your favorite kind. It would be a great, if only you knew who it was from. You aren’t a part of any Secret Santas this year so you’re not sure who even sent the present.

You search through the box a bit more before you find a note in the bottom.

Dear Y/N,

Merry Christmas! I know Christmas this year might be hard on you, so I thought I’d send you a little something to cheer you up. When I saw these sweaters I knew they would be perfect for you and I know you can’t miss out on a sweet tooth moment. Wishing you nothing but the happiest of holidays.

Love,

Your Secret Santa

You search the note for hints but still come up short. You have an idea of who you hope it would be from, but you banish those thoughts from your mind. There is no way it could be from him, he is busy with other things this time of the year. If anything it’s probably from your mom just trying to do something nice for you. You appreciate it nonetheless and you can’t wait to thank the gift giver when you find out who it is. It is exactly what you needed to get you in the Christmas spirit.

The next couple of days the gifts continue to come. Some Christmas decorations, a stuffed teddy bear, some scented candles, that book you keep talking about buying. Each gift comes with it’s own note and it isn’t until the seventh day of gifts that you finally put the clues together.

This gift is of a Lego set. You’ve only told one person about this set and the note confirms your suspicions.

Dear Y/N,

I remember you mentioning this to me once or twice. I know you try to hide your love for Legos but I hope this can help be more open with your joys, even the little ones. You deserve things that make you happy. Let’s put it together the next time I see you, yeah?

Love,

Your Secret Santa

Tears well up in your eyes a bit. Of course it’s been him. You were crazy to think anything else.

“Hey Y/N- woah, are you okay?” Your roommate barges into your room only to be stopped in their tracks by your tears.

“I’m fine, I just…Josh has been sending me the gifts.”

Joshua is your boyfriend. You guys have been dating for years now but his time is often spent in Korea with his K-POP group. You know how much being an idol means to him, and you support him no matter what, it’s just hard to not have him around as often as you’d like.

This year he’s been busier than usual and gave you the news a few months back that he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to come back home for the holidays. It has been weighing on you pretty heavily with Christmas coming up and something about the gifts make it better and worse.

It’s a sweet gesture, sending you gifts he knew you’d like to help you celebrate Christmas even while he’s an ocean away. You appreciate the sentiment to no end, but the smallest part of you can’t help but wish you could just have Joshua with you.

“Why don’t you call him?” Your roommate suggests. “I’m sure he would love to hear from you.” With that they leave your room again and you search for your phone.

You double check the time in Korea before you dial his number. You haven’t talked to him in a while outside of a few minor texts checking in on one another. You haven’t seen his face outside of promotional photos though. The phone rings twice before Joshua picks up, his face filling your screen.

“Hi baby!”

“Hi, how are you? Have I caught you at a good time?”

“Yes, yes, of course. Anytime is a good time for you,” he tells you. You know that is definitely not the truth, but it’s still cute he said it. “So what’s up? How’s my favorite person been?”

“I’ve been amazing. All thanks to your gifts, Secret Santa.”

You watch the way Joshua’s face contorts into a grin. “Ah, you’ve figured it out! I’m glad, I was hoping you’d figure it out soon. I know I can’t be home for Christmas, and it’s been killing both of us, but I hope this can make up for some of it.”

“It’s amazing, you’re the best boyfriend ever Josh. Truly, thank you. You didn’t have to put so much effort into it, but it’s much appreciated. You have me very spoiled.”

“Oh just wait for your next few gifts. I had the boys help me pick out a couple of them and I just know you’re going to love them. Send me your reaction when you get them, okay?”

You’re not sure why but without meaning to, tears start to well in your eyes again. “O-of course Josh.”

“Oh baby. Baby what’s wrong? Is it too much?”

“No, no, I love the gifts, they’re all amazing, trust me. It’s just…I miss you so much. Christmas doesn’t feel like Christmas without you. The gifts are wonderful and everything, but it’s not the same you know?”

“I get it, and I’m really sorry I can’t be home Y/N. You know I wish for nothing more than to be with you right now.”

“I know that baby, and it’s not your fault. It doesn’t stop me from missing you though. I have my friends and family and everyone, but you’re the one who means the most to me. I wish we could just cuddle under the blankets with hot chocolate and watch bad Hallmark Christmas romance movies.”

“I wish I could kiss you right now,” Joshua says. His face is more somber now, but you can still see the hint of admiration behind his eyes. Your heart fills with warmth knowing that you guys love each other no matter what.

“I’ll give you double the kisses the next time I see you,” you tell him.

“Well then, I’ll try to be home as soon as possible.”

“Shua-yah!” You hear someone call for Joshua off camera, it sounds like DK.

“Ah, duty calls,” you joke. “I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

“Of course. I love you, don’t forget that.”

“Never, as long as you don’t forget I love you just as much.”

“I couldn’t even if I tried, not that I ever would. I have to go now, but remember to text me with your reactions to your gift tomorrow. Okay, bye, love you!” With that, the phone call ended. You sigh and place our phone back down.

“Please come home soon,” you mutter to your room before getting up to get on with your day.

Luckily finding out that Joshua is your ‘Secret Santa’ has given you more reasons to text him. You give him a daily update on your gifts and how your reactions to them. Each one is just as amazing as you expect. Just when you didn’t think you could love Joshua more, here he is, showing how well he listens to you and how much he cares about you and how well he knows you.

Truly the only thing that could make everything better would be to have your boyfriend with you in the flesh.

You push those thoughts away as you continue getting ready for Christmas dinner. You’re going over to your parents house to eat dinner with your family and to exchange presents. You fix your outfit before clasping the gold chain necklace around your neck. It was the last gift Joshua gave you and you nearly cried when you saw it.

It’s a beautiful piece with a thin gold chain and a beautiful gem pendant. On the back of the pendant is your and Josh’s initials engraved. It is the most gorgeous piece of jewelry you own and sure to pair it with your outfit for tonight to make sure Joshua is with you in some way.

You check yourself in the mirror once more before you make your way to your parents house. Your father greets you at the door before ushering you into the house where your mother is finishing up dinner in the kitchen.

“Y/N! Oh it’s so nice to see you sweetie.” Your mom presses a quick kiss to your cheek before continuing to tend to the food.

“Let me help you Mom, you seem to have a lot on your plate.”

“Oh no, I’m good here. How about you help set the table though.”

“Can do! How many places should I set?”

“Eleven places, dear.”

“Eleven? Who else is joining us?” It was customary for your family to have ten places during holidays.

“Oh it’s just one of your father’s work friends. He didn’t have anyone to spend the holidays with so your father offered him to come here. Isn’t that nice?”

You hum in agreement before you start to set the table. You softly sing along to the Christmas music your mother has playing as you get the table ready for the feast. Just as you finish setting the last place the doorbell rings and you rush to get it. When you open the door your grandparents stand there and you greet them with hugs.

Soon the house fills up with the guests and your mother starts to place food out on the table. Being with your family fills you with a warm feeling and even though your boyfriend is still on your mind, the presence of your other loved ones helps relieve some of that pain.

Everyone is seated at the table when you notice the eleventh spot is still empty.

“Hey Dad, is your friend still coming?”

“Hm? Oh, right! He’s just running a bit late sweetie. We can start to eat without him.”

You can’t shake the feeling something is a bit off but you don’t make a fuss as everyone starts to dish out the food. You fill up your plate and start to eat while your family starts to make idle chatter in between bites. You only listen to half of it, your brain wandering off to thinking about what Joshua’s doing right now.

You make a mental note to try and call him later tonight when your thoughts are interrupted by a loud knock on the door.

“Oh Y/N sweetie, could you get that?” Your father asks and you nod before getting up and walking over to the door.

When you open the door you come face to face with a man you’ve never met before. He must be your father’s friend. You welcome him in, trying to tamper down the disappointment that rises in you. You don’t know why you thought it would have been someone else. Joshua is in Korea, you know this. He has important idol work to attend to, he can’t just get up and come to America because you miss him.

You sit back down in your place as your father and his friend start up a conversation about their job. Your appetite has lessened and you can’t help chide yourself for having such silly thoughts. You fingers move up to fiddle with the chain around your neck, trying to remind yourself that just because you’re not together physically doesn’t mean you guys aren’t with each other in other ways.

“Y/N honey, are you okay?” Your mother asks and you look up to see your mother staring at you with a worried expression.

“Hm? Oh yeah, I’m fine. I was just lost in thought. Dinner is great though, thank you for making all of this.” You make a show of taking a big bite of the potatoes on your fork. Your mother still looks a bit worried but drops the subject, thankfully.

You try to put yourself back into the conversation. Just because things aren’t how you wish, doesn’t mean you can’t still enjoy yourself. It works some, listening to your grandparents share anecdotes and getting to know your father’s co-worker.

When dinner is finished the adults pour a drink and you sit and talk with them for a bit more before you excuse yourself for the night, claiming tiredness taking you over. You don’t go straight home when you leave you though, driving downtown instead.

You walk the decorated streets, listening to the faint Christmas music playing out of the street speakers. There’s a bit in the air but it doesn’t bother you much. Most of the shops are closed and the streets are fairly empty, save for a few families and a handful of couples.

You stare at the couples for a little too long, thinking about your own boyfriend. When you focus hard enough you can almost feel his hand enveloping yours as you walk down the street.

A few minutes later you sigh and give up, heading back to your car. It’s no use. As much as you can imagine and wish and try, Joshua still isn’t with you, and your Christmas is nothing but sad and lonely. 

You take your time driving back home, listening to your radio and staring at everyone’s light displays. It’s nearly midnight when you pull into your parking spot and trudge up to your apartment. The lights are off when you get inside and there’s no noise, signaling your roommate is spending the night at their parents’ house.

You change out of your nice clothes and pull on one of the sweaters Joshua sent you before you start a pot of hot water for some hot chocolate. You check the time, 11:58. Joshua should be free right now, even though it’s not Christmas over in Korea anymore. You dial his number only for his phone to go straight to voicemail. Damn it.

You wonder what he’s up to right now as you pour the cocoa powder into your mug. It’s also from one of Joshua’s gifts. You think to yourself that if you can’t be with Joshua, at least you can surround yourself with things that represent him.

Just as you’ve sat down on your couch to turn a movie on, you hear a knock on your door. You glance at your clock. 12:04. Who could be at your door at this time? Did our roommate come home and forget their key again?

You set your mug down and make your way to the door before opening it. When you do you nearly scream out. Standing at your front door is the one person who’s been on your mind for weeks. You don’t have control of your body as you move forward to throw yourself onto the man. You wrap your limbs around him as you feel tears start to stream down your face. He’s quick to catch you, pulling you into him even together.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, crying in his arms, but you don’t think you’ve ever been happier than in this moment. When you finally pull away you see his face is also a bit tear stained. You can’t help but pull him back into a hug.

“W-what are you doing here?” You hold him tight, like if you let go of him he’ll disappear. 

“I told you I'd be home as soon as possible. I just had to get those kisses you promised," he tells you with a grin. "Truthfully, I just kept thinking about you and Christmas and I knew I needed to come home. I talked to our manager and they gave me a few weeks for break so I could come home and be with you,” Joshua explains. “I’m sorry I’m late though.”

“Late?” You pull back again so you could look Joshua in the face.

“I missed Christmas, I’m sorry.” Joshua gestures to the clock. “Past midnight.”

“Oh shut up, who cares? It only matters that you’re here now.” You finally allow Joshua to step into your apartment fully. “You know, I loved everything you gave me, but you are the best Christmas gift.” You pull him into you again, this time connecting your lips as you do.

The kiss is soft and gentle yet passionate as you both try to make up for months of being apart. When you pull away Joshua has a dopey grin on his face.

“You know you’re pretty romantic,” he teases and you roll your eyes.

“Says the guy who flew here from Korea just to be with me. Now I think you owe me a movie night with hot chocolate and lots of kisses.”

“Only if we get to build the Lego set as well.”

“I think you have yourself a deal.” You press another quick kiss to his lips before you go to grab your Lego set. You know you’re going to spend the rest of the night reading instructions wrong and drinking way too much sugar but you can’t imagine a better way to spend your night.

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join my taglist: here!

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Pomposo

Chapter Fourteen

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Sam, Dean/Jo, John/Kate, Adam, Ellen, Garth/Bess (in passing), Cas and Mary (mentioned)

Word Count: 4559

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining. MORE BACKSTORY AHEAD, story takes place currently in Dec 2017, flashback to Jan. 2004 in italics, talk of Sam's past use of hard drugs, hangovers, vomit, car accidents, injuries, character death, guilt, John was not so great a parent or husband, some paraphrasing of last chapter unbeta'd

Special shout out to @thoughtslikeaminefield who helped immensely on sorting out the backstory for this chapter too, way back when I started outlining this thing.

Series Masterlist

Sam settled on some old school soul music to start their road trip and Dean couldn’t even come up with a reason to complain. Aretha sang in the background and they headed east, the world was their oyster and all that. Dean held onto the small bit of smug satisfaction from the interview with Meg as the city disappeared behind them. She really wanted him to crack, but he hadn't and that gave him some hope for going home.

They veered north for a bit and continued on I-40 until they hit Flagstaff. Dean liked the mountains, the air was infinitely better than LA and there was something about spending the holidays where it got cold that made sense. Unfortunately, it was just an overnight stay. How they managed a room in the first hotel they tried, he’d never know. He just shuffled in with his duffel bag and his ball cap over his now sleep-sloppy hair. There was a player-piano in the lobby and Dean had the fleeting thought about how Cas was spending the holidays.

Maybe he’d try and leave him another message, it had been months.

Sam called Madison after dinner and Dean decided to check out the amenities in order to not have to watch Sam get all goopy. Dean hadn’t packed a bathing suit, but a gym’s a gym even if it’s just three treadmills, a stair climber and free weights. So, he jogged for a little bit, watching whatever passed for news. He forgot his earbuds in the room and it really wasn’t worth going back for, he was finding his groove even without music as a buffer to the world around him.

After a solid 5k, Dean stepped down to stretch. Which worked out because a couple in their fifties came in just as he started some curls, leaving the treadmills open for their evening stroll. They talked about their family, the wife explaining what she got each of their grandchildren and where they were supposed to be on which day. Perfectly normal people conversation, but something about it made Dean sad, so he tried to tune them out and focus on his reps.

Part of his life after Cain and Alistair was a loss of gym time. Sure, he could work out at home or even do laps around the neighborhood, but it wasn’t the hours in the ring or at the bag or with a jump rope full-body-punishment that he had worked himself up to. It was also a lot more peaceful, less reactionary. And Dean decided he would find a balance between stagnation and self-destruction. Twenty eighteen was just around the corner afterall.

Dean got back to the room in time to shower and crash. If they wanted to push it, they could make it to their Dad’s place the next day. But neither of them were in a hurry, even in Sam’s fuckboy Charger it was nice to be on the road together. Dean took the first stretch towards Albuquerque, but Sam called it in Santa Fe. He had thought ahead and booked them a hotel instead of chancing it again, which surprised Dean for some reason. Sam had gone and gotten to be responsible while Dean was busy fishing himself out of professional purgatory.

“You talk to Bela?” Sam asked as they waited for their pizza to be delivered. 

“Uh, she texted me that she landed at Heathrow, but not really. Why?” Dean asked after taking a sip of his beer.

“Wasn’t sure if you guys were doing the whole gift exchange thing,” Sam shrugged. “Madison made me wait until after we get back to give her hers.”

Dean chuckled. “I don’t want to know what you’re giving her, alright?”

Sam rolled his eyes, but otherwise ignored the innuendo. “Won’t people be asking about what you got her?”

Dean hadn’t really thought about it. “I guess I could ask Trouble for some ideas, see if she thinks it’s necessary we post about it. I don’t know, I was kind of hoping of forgetting about the whole thing until New Year’s at Elizabeth’s, you know?”

Sam leveled Dean with a glare. “You know Dad is gonna ask to meet her.”

Dean set down his beer. “Well it’s a good thing she’s halfway across the world then.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

“Mom loved that show,” Sam said thoughtfully.

He was right. Dean had completely forgotten about why he’d recognized Bela the first time they’d met at your housewarming party way back when. But, yeah, Mary had watched ‘Red Sky in the Morning’ every Tuesday night after she put them to bed. Once Dean reached junior high, he was able to persuade her to let him stay up and watch too.

“I can’t believe it was on as long as it was, it was fucking awful,” Dean said playfully.

“Yeah, but it was her escape,” Sam added gently.

Dean took a long pull off his beer. “I guess so.”

When Sam went to meet the delivery driver, Dean turned on the television, banking on some sort of Christmas special to take his mind off memory lane. They ate quietly, letting last minute sales commercials drown out their thoughts. Tomorrow they were going home, or as close to it as they had outside of LA. Dean felt lopsided over getting to see Adam, having to navigate his dad, and tiptoeing Kate’s well-meaning but invasive nature.

But that’s family for you, nothing more important than that.

Dean rolled over on the couch, something had woken him up and he was too hungover to let it win. But it didn’t stop, a trilling sound coming from his pants pocket, fuck, it was his phone. He cracked one eye open and checked the caller id.

He closed his eyes and answered. “Morning, beautiful.”

“Dean Winchester?” a harried voice asked, decidedly not Jo.

“Ellen?”

“Yeah, listen— there’s been an accident. Jo and Y/N were T-boned on Hound Drive last night. Can you come to the hospital? I just came home for a change of clothes, but I’m heading back there now.”

Dean sat up, liquor and a headache dulling his reflexes. “Ellen? What are they saying?”

“She’s in the ICU. I— we need you there.”

 Terror flooded Dean’s system, churning with a relentless guilt. Jo wouldn’t have been out so late if it wasn’t to see him. He swallowed. “Uh, of course. Do you want me to drive you? I can be there in ten minutes.”

“I’ll pick you up. I’ve got my truck, the roads are still a mess.”

“Right, okay, I’m at Dad and Kate’s— do you–”

“I’ll be there soon.”

“Ellen? Be careful.”

“Don’t you start young man.”

“Yes ma’am.” 

Ellen hung up.

Dean stumbled into the bathroom and threw up. He didn’t have time for a shower. Instead he grabbed his shaving kit and threw on a fresh layer of deodorant and brushed his teeth. He pounded three Advil with the water from one of those flowery Dixie cups Kate kept in a plastic dispenser on the counter. He couldn’t look at himself in the mirror, he knew how bad he must look. He stomped back into the living room and swapped his sweaty flannel for one that smelled neutral from his duffel. Adam showed up as Dean was shoving his boots on.

“Dean? Can I put on cartoons?”

He didn’t jump, Dean didn’t get scared of six-year-olds in footie pajamas. He was just on edge, was all.

“Knock yourself out,” Dean said.

“Where are you going?” Adam asked, stealing the afghan Dean had left on the floor.

“Uh, friend of mine had an accident, so I’m heading to the hospital. Can you tell Dad? I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“You can tell me yourself,” John’s voice pressed in behind Dean as he came in from the kitchen, mug of coffee in hand.

“Dad—,” Dean looked at his father, a man who had been on the road cheating on his mother for years. The same mother who died in a fire because John couldn’t bother to make sure to keep the electrical in their shitty double wide up to code. “It’s Jo. Ellen’s gonna take me to the hospital. Dad, I—”

John’s entire stance changed. “Go. Call when you know something. I’ll send Sammy when he’s up, he’ll know what to do.”

They both knew Sam couldn’t stop whatever was happening, but he’d keep Dean from causing a scene.

A car honked in the driveway.

“I gotta go. Thanks,” Dean brushed past his dad without even a glance at Adam.

Dean wouldn’t let Ellen drive, even hungover he trusted himself behind the wheel more than a desperate mother. She only pretended to argue before sliding across the bench seat and letting him in. The roads were a mess. In the thirty minute drive to the hospital, Dean saw another two cars in the ditch. Though, it was clear now in the morning sunshine, everything was blinding in its whiteness.

“Listen, you shut up and keep your head down. Let me do the talking,” Ellen warned him as they approached the reception desk.

“Hi, I’m Ellen Harvelle, I’m here to see my daughter Joanna? This is her fiance.”

Dean squirmed, but nodded at the nurse who looked at him like she wanted to reach over and hug him. “Of course, right this way.”

She led Dean and Ellen down a hushed hallway, the beeping of machines and huffing of ventilators the only sounds escaping the doorways as they passed. Dean looked around for a trash can, the painkillers in his stomach threatening to come back up. Ellen took his hand and pulled him into a room. 

Jo was hooked up to more machines than should have fit in the tiny room. Her hair was matted with blood and she was drowning in the hospital gown. Her beautiful face was swollen and red, the bruises still forming where she hit the passenger side window— or maybe that was the dashboard, Dean couldn’t tell she was so misshapen.

“Oh, Jo,” Dean’s voice broke. He stopped himself from saying anything as the nurse talked, but all he wanted to do was sob.

 He didn’t realize he had let go of Ellen’s hand until he was clenching the rail along Jo’s bedside. Ellen stood on the other side of her, carefully brushing the hair out of Jo’s beaten face. Her one arm was framed in a metal fixator, skin angry from where the bone sliced her open from the inside. Her leg was in a brace, but at least that meant those bones were more salvageable.

“What happened?” Dean said eventually, unsure of when the nurse left. He eyed the machines tracking Jo’s heart rate, but he wasn’t sure if the readings were good or bad.

“Someone was driving on the wrong side of the road— couldn’t see the lines and Y/N swerved to miss them, they spun out and the other car didn’t stop. They took her to surgery– her right knee was shattered.”

“Jo took the brunt of it,” Dean stated the obvious, still too terrified to reach out and touch Jo. She was suddenly so very fragile.

Ellen sniffed.

“They are watching for internal bleeding before they’ll operate. Her brain—," Ellen couldn’t finish.

“Hey,” Dean rushed around the bed and pulled Ellen against his chest, finally giving his hands something to do. “They’re doing everything they can.”

“It’s not enough,” Ellen argued.

“I know,” Dean agreed, squeezing her tighter.

Ellen pulled back and wiped her eyes, muttering to herself about going soft. Dean needed to give her a moment, hell, he needed a minute to catch his breath. He told her he was going to find coffee and she told him they had a waiting area down the hall. He nearly ran out of Jo’s room.

He checked his watch, it was just after ten o’clock. And as exhausted and hungover as Dean felt, he was pretty sure Ellen hadn’t slept at all after closing the bar. He wondered if she’d even made it home before getting the call. He found the coffee maker and pushed a button for something hot and thin and caffeinated. He wondered if Y/N had passed a breathalyzer, knowing how much Jo had been drinking didn’t make him certain her driver was much better off.

He was gonna be sick again.

He left the paper cup on the grate and fell into one of the stiff plastic chairs around the small table. He put his head between his knees and breathed, resting on his elbows. Dean counted the flecks in the white linoleum squares beneath his feet.

Nothing made sense. They were just getting started. Last night there was the impossible giddiness of seeing her in person after so long and now the unabashed horror of her mother sneaking him into the hospital as her fiance so he could see her before…

She was eighteen-fucking-years-old and he was going to lose her.

And it was all his fault.

He stared at the floor until he couldn’t anymore. The coffee was nothing more than a passing burn on the way to his knotted stomach. But he couldn’t stop the tears and he wouldn’t go back to Ellen until they were dry, she needed him to be better than that. When he couldn’t cry anymore and after he used his last single for a pack of peanut M&Ms, Dean went back to Jo’s room.

Ellen was asleep in an ugly mauve chair with her hand clutching Jo’s good ankle over the thin hospital blanket. Dean found another blanket from a CNA and tucked it around Ellen’s shoulders. He stood guard, through Ellen’s brief nap and the three o’clock shift change, even after Sam came by with lunch but left because he wasn’t allowed on the ward.

The seizures started around five and Ellen and Dean were asked to wait outside. Before six, she was wheeled away from them into emergency surgery and by seven she was gone. Dean had to hold Ellen back from slugging the surgeon. He caught her when she finally sank into reality, and somehow Dean found more tears.

Nothing felt real, least of all Dean himself.

Adam looked Dean in the eye and grinned.

“Get over here you little shit, I told you to stop growing the last time I saw you didn’t I?” Dean hugged his youngest brother hard, thumping him on the back as he rocked from foot to foot. “Good to see you, man.”

“You too,” Adam grunted out before Dean could release him.

Then came John, waiting for Dean as he walked through the front door. They didn’t say anything, just gave each other the once over and went in for the hug. John held him tight until he cleared his throat, stepping away from the vulnerable moment. Sam came in with his bags and hugged Kate first, who had been waiting in the hallway to the kitchen.

“Sammy,” John said, holding out his arms.

“Hey Dad,” Sam hugged with genuine warmth on his face, Dean never thought he’d see the day. But time does things to a person, and forgiveness was always Sam’s superpower.

“You boys hungry? I can reheat dinner, I know you’ve been on the road, wasn’t sure when you’d get in,” Kate offered as Dean went in for the obligatory hug. She had colored her hair, instead of her natural blonde it was a mature auburn, covering the gray and giving her a different air.

“Don’t worry about us, we can scavenge for something later,” Dean assured her. “I like your hair.”

That startled her. “Oh! Thank you, yeah I just figured I’d do something different for winter, you know.”

“Don’t she look good? I told her redheads are feisty,” John teased, wrapping his arm around her waist.

“Gross,” Adam called on the way to the basement, where Sam had headed down to watch him finish his game.

“Beer?” John offered and Dean gladly accepted.

Arriving three days early was pushing their luck, Dean knew that, but there was nothing keeping him in LA. And after the novelty of catching up and last minute shopping in the tiny downtown of Mills’ Crossing, there wasn’t much more small talk to be had. 

Naturally, John started it. But it was over Sam that had Dean’s hackles up first. They were sitting down for a late lunch, having gone to church as a family for the first time since Kate and John got married when John made a comment about it was good to see Sam’s forearms ‘healthy’. 

What he meant was he was proud of Sam for kicking his habit, for staying clean. What John didn’t know was that Sam was so good at hiding it, Dean had to check between his toes before he finally got him into rehab the last time. Seven years since Sam had kicked it and John still needed to point it out.

The jam session that night seemed to clear the air. Adam had decided he was a drummer sometime after Dean and Sam’s first platinum album so John built him an entire soundproof room in the basement to go wild. Which meant the Winchester men were a full four piece, if they got to pick their parts. Dean abstained from playing lead because it was John’s house after all, but the old man’s hands weren’t what they used to be. And that gave Dean a little bit of satisfaction.

They rolled through the classics, even playing a couple of Phantom Traveler’s songs that didn’t rely too much on the keys. Dean made John sing though, laughing when he made up his own lyrics.

They ended the night with a drunken, almost punk rendition of Jingle Bell Rock after which Kate shut the lights out on them and told them to go to bed.

Christmas Eve was boring, Dean had gotten stir crazy and kept checking his phone. He knew you had gotten in the night before, but he couldn’t justify trying to hang out while you had such little time with your family as it was. Sam gave him a look and they started playing poker, teasing Adam that he needed to know every version of the game if he was gonna hold his own one day. 

Kate wiped the floor with them all.

They had eggnog and exchanged one round of gifts before going to bed, no expectations of Santa Claus or any set wake up time scheduled. It was just another day. Dean barely slept, anxiety churning inside him. He tried meditating. He even prayed, but God, who was understandably busy that night, didn’t save him. Because he woke up with a bug up his ass and, naturally, his father was the first one to point it out.

“You kiss your girlfriend with that mouth?” John asked after Dean cursed at Adam’s obnoxious ringtone.

“Do a lot more with it than that,” Dean muttered before he could stop himself.

“Dean Winchester,” John snapped as if Dean was still sixteen, still living under his roof.

“Oh, come on, kids in college, he’s heard worse,” Dean griped, going back to his coffee.

It all went downhill from there. Naturally, Adam got the lion’s share of gifts. Sam and Dean didn’t need anything, but it was so uneven it looked like John and Kate didn’t even remember they were coming to visit. Meanwhile, John’s plasma screen had arrived two days earlier and Sam and Dean were tasked with installing it in the living room midmorning.

Nothing says family time like manual labor and micromanagement.

Dean started drinking before Kate had taken the ham out of the oven. And while Sam wasn’t exactly keeping track, Dean felt like he was asking for whatever bitchface he got next. He just couldn’t stop himself once he started snarking.

Adam was telling them about the musical composition class he had finished and how he had written something for a string quartet. 

“Our new keyboard player went to Julliard, you should send it to him,” Dean said off the cuff, before shoving some venison sausage in his mouth from the snack trays Kate put out.

“So you upgraded from Cas officially now?” John asked suspiciously.

“Dad, Cas left the band last spring, of course we made it official,” Sam cut in. John already knew this.

“I know, I just hoped you boys would work it out.”

Dean laughed darkly. “Nothing to work out. Dude left, we moved on.”

“And why did he leave exactly?” John goaded Dean.

Dean rolled his eyes, John was one to talk. He had pissed off half of all musicians between the Rockies and New Orleans before he hung it up.

“Let’s call it the Winchester temper and leave it at that,” Dean smiled without teeth, then popped more snacks into his mouth.

“Yeah, cuz the Campbell blood held only saints,” John muttered.

“Dad!” Sam admonished.

“That’s fucking rich! Talking about her when she’s not here to call you on your shit. I fucking punched Cas, alright?! You happy?! And who, DAD, taught me how to do that? Huh? Winchester temper. Not Campbell. That one was all from you.”

John stepped into Dean’s space, but spoke to Sam. “Sam, take your brother outside for a walk to cool down before dinner.”

Sam grunted in confirmation.

“Watch how you talk to me in my own home, Dean. Or I’ll show you a Winchester temper,” John said lowly. “You understand?”

Dean rolled his shoulders and looked his father in the eye. “Who exactly paid for this house again, Dad? Yeah, I’ll talk to you how you deserve it. I’m out of here.”

Dean felt Adam watching from the corner as Kate pulled John out of the kitchen and into their bedroom to give him a piece of her mind. Sam nodded at their younger brother, silently thanking him for holding down the fort as Dean stormed out the front door.

The Roadhouse was blissfully the same, with only a handful of beaten down cars in the parking lot. Dean had spent enough Christmases at bars or taverns throughout his life, but now he just wanted something that felt like home to get through this tightness in his chest. What they found inside was something altogether more special.

Ellen’s entire face lit up as they walked in, an empty plate in front of her and Garth manning the food line. Dean got his hug in first, but Sam took his time asking about what was going on. Then you were there, and Dean felt a hot shame creep up because he was this close to falling into old patterns. And that wasn’t how he ever wanted you to see him. He zipped his lips, pleading with himself to get a handle on his temper already.

He felt you breathe him in, the truth was never hard for you to suss out. And yet Dean held on, needing you close, being stupid and selfish as ever.

They took their free meal and ducked into a corner, watching as Ellen played angel to the downtrodden of Boone county. Slowly, Dean was able to set his shit aside. With Sam talking about anything and everything across from him; he accepted his resentment for his father, his frustration at himself and the stupid fucking feelings he had for you. It all seemed much more manageable when faced with people who had to get over much bigger obstacles with so much less. There was one more thing he promised he’d do while he was home, now that he’d visited Ellen. And he double checked that Sam was still good to go with him, to be his chauffeur.

They helped clean up, though Ellen moved a mile a minute and did tasks faster than she could explain them. And then Ellen was handing you off like a Christmas present, one that Dean couldn’t ever accept. 

Ellen said her goodbyes and left Dean standing in the parking lot without much of a guess on what you wanted to do next.

“I guess we better get going,” he said, asking Sam more than anything.

Then Sam reminded Dean about the cemetery and a new wave of guilt seeped into Dean’s stomach. When it came to Jo, you had first dibs. She was your best friend and Dean’d be damned if he’d visit her without you getting a chance to too. As macabre as it was, he felt he owed it to you.

You looked like you were going to be ill.

“Maybe we should ask her if she wants to go,” he told Sam, searching your eyes for permission at the very least.

You took your time with the idea, but turned him down. “If it’s okay, would you mind dropping me off first? I know it’s in the other direction.”

Dean felt you sinking behind a wall the further they got from the Roadhouse, you asked questions and made conversation, but you weren’t really in it. He probably shouldn’t have brought up Jo, but with Ellen and Christmas and the Roadhouse, she was already everywhere anyway. 

They let you out at your parents’ and headed back across town. The streets were almost empty with the sacredness of the holiday. The cemetery was decorated in pine wreaths and cheap red ribbons. The narrow paths were  silent beneath their feet. Dean had thought he knew what he wanted to say when he decided to take this little side quest to see Jo.

What he said once Sam was safely back inside the Charger was something else entirely.

“So, I’ve been better. Not like I’m bad now, but I’ve been doing actually better. I was a mess for a long time. And not just from you, but a lot of shit. And last year, I guess earlier this year really, I kind of imploded. I started hurting people, like actually hurting them and justified it to myself somehow. Then I pushed Cas away from helping me, after breaking his nose. And well, the bands a lot different now. But we’re still doing it. 

Look, Jo, I know you wanted me to live my dreams and see the world. Things I always wish you could have done. But sometimes dreams are regular everyday things, like bringing home pie or having somebody to say goodnight to. And I haven’t let myself have dreams in a long, long time. But I think maybe I’m starting to again.

And I just need you to know that I’m gonna be okay. And I am gonna do what I can to keep your people safe, because they’re my people now too, you know? You gave me another mom and a best friend without even meaning to. And we all miss you like crazy. But, we’re okay. Merry Christmas, beautiful. I  hope the angels pull out all the stops up there.”

Dean exhaled, his nose thick and eyes stinging in the cold air. He wiped his face and looked at Jo’s name one more time before turning back towards the road. Sam waited until Dean was buckled in before asking, “you good?”

“Yeah, man. Let’s get back before I cause more of a sensation,” Dean said, not meeting Sam’s eyes.

“Okay,” was all Sam said.

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

Chapter 15: Rubato

[cellythefloshie]

;; What My World Spins Around

Dedicated to @ladylooch for @wyattjohnston 's winter fic exchange 2k24

Summary: Christmas day sparks a series of unexpected gifts that lead you and Timo to face a question the two of you had been avoiding since his trade to the New Jersey Devils almost a whole year ago. What will your future hold, and will you be spending it together?

Tropes & TW: Brother's Teammate, Exes To Lovers, Friends with Benefits to Lovers, "we were on a break", gift giving, reader wears glasses, trade angst, - there is no smut in this fic - Injured Timo - written as if he will remain on IR until mid/late February.

Word Count: 4k+

A/N:  I was getting a little worried as the January days have been passing like falling dominos! But alas! My 2k24 Winter Fic Exchange entry is complete! A huge thank you to @wyattjohnston for organising the event and being so supportive when I ended up in your messages feeling like I was never going to be able to write a proper story again after months of not really writing because of my new job. And another huge thank you to @matthewtkachuk for letting me jump into their messages for the same reasons, and when I needed a little help to gain my confidence with Timo. I very much appreciate it! Now, for my lovely recipient, @ladylooch ! Thank you for giving me an opportunity to explore a player that I have only really admired from a far! It was so much fun doing the research and uncovering his career through the NHL in the last 7 seasons! I hope that I was able to touch on all the things you love about Timo and expected from this fic every time I dropped into your anons to ask questions. Enjoy!

There was only a single moment of calm on Christmas morning, and it could only come after gifts had been opened and breakfast had been eaten, and you intended to take advantage of it. The children could be heard in the family room, preoccupied with one of the many toys they had been spoiled with from their parents, Santa, and naturally, yourself. Being the fun live-in aunt came with a cost, not that you minded. You loved your family and your matching Christmas pajamas that would be plastered all over your family’s Instagram page for the coming weeks. And with the children distracted, you used your rare moment alone to enjoy your own gifts. 

Curled up in an armchair by the tree, you held your new book in your hands, your fingers holding each side carefully as you did your best not to crease the binding of the paperback romance novel. You had only been sitting there thirty minutes at most, but you were a quarter of the way done when you heard a pair of footsteps shuffle into the room. You didn’t have to look up to know who they belonged to. You had been hearing them her entire life. The slow, heavy step of slipper clad feet over hard wood could only belong to your brother. 

You had half expected him to be sleeping in front of the television with a Christmas movie playing on repeat for the kids already, but you could hear him shuffling around the Christmas tree just over your shoulder. The scratch of his slipper was harsh against your ears. 

“Making all that noise, you better be taking that tree down–” you finally spoke when the noise was becoming too much, all without looking up from the pages of your book. 

The tree never came down until after the new year, but in your mind, there was no other excuse he could have for making so much noise. 

“There’s still a present back here for you,” he claimed, and you peaked over the edge of the pages. 

“What is it?”

“Don’t know, but it’s not from me,” he told you, and his hand came into view in front of you. 

In it, he held a deep red envelope with your name written across it in an elegant cursive. It was unlike any you had seen before. It wasn’t your brother’s hand, or your sister in laws. Nor was it your mothers. The unfamiliarity of each letter left your brows to furrow as you placed your book down in your lap and took it from your brother’s hand. 

You opened it slowly, careful not to rip the pretty envelope as you pulled out what looked like a basic Christmas card. It was only when you opened it that you realized the magnitude of the gift: dinner reservations at your favorite restaurant in San Jose. 

It was the one restaurant where you spent every special occasion. Your birthday, anniversaries, celebrating your brother’s milestones, had all been spent there at the same table since your brother had been traded to San Jose almost a decade ago. But it was also a restaurant you had been avoiding since your own boyfriend had been traded from the team - giving you very little to celebrate as the status of their relationship had been called into question when he left. 

Were you single? You wouldn’t say so. 

Were you taken? You didn’t know the answer to that question either. 

You hadn’t broken up, but you were on a break. 

It was easier, or so that was what you both claimed, when there was a whole country between them. Timo was on the East Coast playing with the New Jersey Devils now, and you were on the West helping your sister-in-law raise her two children while your brother was busy in net for the San Jose Barracuda and the San Jose Sharks on the rare occasion. 

You could have gone with him, but that was a reality you chose to ignore. You couldn’t justify going to Jersey with him, not even when he asked. Your entire life was in San Jose, and uprooting it for someone who struggled to commit until your brother had found out you were sneaking around together, and hadn’t even thought about proposing in the five years you were officially together. 

Seeing the reservation sent memories of Timo flooding through your mind, your stomach feeling as if it were suddenly tied into knots as you looked up at your brother with a sad smile. 

“This isn’t from you?” You asked slowly, your voice on the verge of breaking. 

His large shoulders shrugged. “Not from us, but you should go. I don’t think you’ll regret it.”

***

Your dinner reservation wasn’t until the new year after the chaos of gift giving and family events were over. That also meant the restaurant scene was quieter. There was no waiting in line just to tell the hostess you had a reservation while they were turning others away on a thirty minutes or more waitlist. It also brought a certain peace. One that was laced with the gentle melody of classical restaurant music, the gentle clink of cutlery against fine china, and the subtle sound of wine being poured into your glass as you eyed up the menu you practically had memorized. 

“I didn’t order any wine,” you spoke, your gaze rising from the menu as one hand left the leather cover to push your glasses back up the bridge of your nose. 

The server didn’t stop his pour until he was satisfied with the fullness of the deep red wine in the glass. He then offered you a soft smile and displayed the label of the bottle to you. The wine was your favorite. The same one you had ordered every time you had dined in their establishment - which, in reality, was only two or three times a year. There was no way they would have remembered.

Lowering your menu further to place it down on the tabletop, you turned in your seat. You looked one way, and then the next looking for a familiar face. Your brother. Your sister-in-law. Timo. Anyone. But the surrounding faces in the restaurant were those of strangers, and the seat across from you at the table remained empty. You were alone, and would spend the remainder of your evening alone, too. 

Through the three courses of an appetizer, main course and dessert, you enjoyed it alone. The wine, and your favorite dishes, should have been enough to keep you distracted, but your mind found no peace as you stared at the glass of red wine. It became closer and closer to empty with each sip, but it couldn’t answer the question that haunted you in the back of your mind. 

Who had gone out of their way to make this reservation for you? 

Your questions were only fueled further when the bill was delivered to the table. You reached into the depths of your purse and pulled out your wallet, but you were met by the same smile he had when you had questioned the wine. The bill had  already been paid for. 

***

Dinner was just the first gift of many that you would receive in the month of January. The second came in the mail one day – the date one you couldn’t quite remember. It was a package among junk mail, its stiff cardboard box sandwiched between color flyers. You hadn’t expected a delivery, so you were going to leave it resting on the table for your brother, or his wife, but with a clumsy step you had walked into the table. It sent the flyers fluttering to the floor and your name became all too clear on the shipping label. 

You carried it with you up to the privacy of your bedroom before you opened it. The shock of the gift sending it to fall from your lap to lay open on the bed. Inside, a book. But not just any book, your favorite book. A special edition, signed by the author. 

Pushing up from your bed, you rushed down the hallway to the children’s room where your sister-in-law was with the kids. Their laughter was a pleasant sound to your ears, coaxing a smile as the question slipped from your lips without a proper announcement that you had come home, “that book that was on the table downstairs, that from you?”

She looked up from the children with a smile, her hair falling into her face before she could push it back with a single hand. “No, that wasn’t us,” she said, her smile knowing. She knew just who had sent you the book, but she wasn’t about to tell you. 

The next gift came on Valentine's Day. You were at the part-time job you balanced with helping with the child care of your brother’s kids. It was there you received a bouquet of flowers, your favorite flowers. They came with no card. It came with teases of having a secret admirer from your colleague, your brother when she arrived home, and the children. But now, you had an idea of who had been sending you all the gifts, but had yet to receive any confirmation. 

All your speculations were put to rest when you received one final gift box on the 20th of February. It was a large black box with a teal ribbon that sprawled halfway across the dinner table. You stared at it for a long moment, your hands sweating as they came together to nervously rub at each other. Teeth bit at your lower lip, and your lungs struggled to take a single breath as you reached out and tugged at a single strand of ribbon that made up the bow. It fell so fluidly away from the box it almost left you in awe as it draped over the table top but your eyes could only fixate on it for so long before your hands were lifting off the top of the box revealing bright red tissue paper inside. 

It was a harsh contrast from the cool hues of the teal to the heat of the red tissue paper - or maybe that was just the raise in her body temperature as you stood at the head of the table as you finally realized who had been sending you all the gifts since the holiday season. The box was stuffed with New Jersey Devils' merchandise. Everything from hats to t-shirts, to pucks and photographs. The box was filled with everything shot of a hockey stick and a set of hockey equipment – but what it did have was a hockey jersey. Black and red, and gorgeous with a 96 on the back and on the sleeves. And across the back, the name of your admirer, your boyfriend, your ex-boyfriend, whatever it was. Meier. 

You lifted it out of the box slowly, sighing as beneath it another gift came into view. A single ticket to the game against the San Jose Sharks in seven days. He wanted you to go, but could you? You had both been apart for so long already that the closure it would give you would do more harm than good. It left you to wonder that maybe it would just be easier to move on–

***

The San Jose Sharks had become a team that struggled to fill their seats beyond an 80% capacity most nights. They were falling back into a rebuild with fan favorites and rookies alike, getting traded away for draft picks to bolster the Sharks' future. But it came with a cost. Fan loyalty wavered, their faith in management wore thin. But on February 27th when Timo Meier returned to SAP Center, the fans followed. His name was on the backs of many and slid off the tongue of all. Some cursed him for leaving, others were excited to welcome him back if only for one night, and you were lost, silent among them. 

You walked with your head down, the large New Jersey Devils jersey hanging off your shoulders as you wound your way through the crowd to get to your seat. It was high up in the area, but not so high that you felt like you were in the ceiling. You could see the ice, but from down there, you were sure Timo wouldn’t be able to see you. The thought left you nervous. 

Going to the game had been a tough decision, but the thought of going and there being an empty seat left you felt guilty. Your attendance wasn’t a hard set decision on what your course of action with Timo would be. You could attend and decide that it was over - or it could reach the end of the game and you could decide that you wanted to try again. Or Maybe, he had decided it all for you. You could decide you wanted him, but the gifts had been a thank you for putting up with him, and a goodbye. At least then, after you were done crying, you might make a couple of bucks after selling it on eBay. 

You sat in your seat with your stomach in your throat, your eyes fell on your phone one minute, and then the next. Every second felt like hours, but then time seemed to freeze as the players flooded the ice to warm up. You held your breath, reading the backs of every single player that took to the ice until the parade from the tunnel was over. You sat there for a moment, your hands curled into fists in your lap and your nails pressing into your palms. Timo wasn’t among them. He wasn’t skating in circles, shooting a puck on the net, or talking up the trainer. He wasn’t on the ice at all. 

You stood up slowly, your eyes squinting as if you had just happened to miss him. You pressed up on your toes even, giving yourself an extra inch to see him, and yet, you still could not see him. 

In a breath from your lips, you cursed so quietly that even your own ears couldn’t hear it. He invited you all the way down there, to what? Not even play? You huffed out an exaggerated breath as you stepped back so that your legs were pressed into the seat of your chair. One hand reached back to lower it for you to sit, but before you could, you felt the warmth of a large hand on your shoulder. 

Turning in place, you saw the back wall first, the number of the section in bold a few seats away, but above you, as you tilted your head back, you saw the edge of one suite. Reaching past it was a single arm clad in a suit you knew could only belong to one person. 

“Timo,” his name was a whisper on your lips as your gaze found his. 

You were breathless as you stared at him. You had almost forgotten just what shade of blue his eyes were. Not too blue that they looked cold or harsh. They were soft and bright but had an almost gray tone, like the sky as a storm rolled in. Your lip quivered as you took in the color, as if you were seeing them for the first time. And if they hadn’t been enough to captivate you so fully you had forgotten about the tens of thousands of fans that gathered for the hockey game, Timo also wore that soft smile of his that had always left you smitten with him. 

“You made it,” he spoke as he leaned over the edge just to get a little closer to you. 

“I wasn’t going to miss this,” you told him with a smile, “but I thought you’d be out there.”

Your head cocked as you pointed back over your shoulder with a thumb towards the ice where his teammates were warming up from the game. 

Timo shrugged in response, his smile wavering and his eyes shifting away from yours for a moment. He was disappointed that much was clear. Had he been expecting you to be keeping tabs on him? “Been on IR since December-”

That’s right! You remembered seeing that headline circulating your social media pages months ago. You had even skimmed one article for the reason - a mid-body injury - and you had assumed that he had healed up and been back in the roster by now. But you were wrong. 

Worst of all, you just should have called. Or texted. Anything. You should have reached out, wished him well. You should have made sure that he was okay. Maybe then the two of you could have figured out just what was going on between the two of you. Yet, you stood before him not knowing his intent, or your own, but happy to see him. 

“That’s right, but then why fly all the way out here?”

“Or you,” he said your name with a smile as he pulled back just enough to find his seat. He was just behind you, just slightly elevated. When he sat all the way back, you couldn’t see him, but as the light went dim, Timo leaned forward, keeping his arm reaching out just enough that his hand could rest on your shoulder for the duration of the game. You could feel the warmth of his touch on your shoulder throughout the night, it only left you when Timo had gotten up throughout the game – including when he stood and waved to the crowd after they played a tribute to his time on the team high above on the screens.

It was a tribute that left you in tears. 

Image by image, one video clip after the next, you were forced through the years you spent with Timo. You weren’t in a single shot, no one else in the arena knew you existed - but you could fill the gaps between each game, between each milestone because you were there for every single one. You were just sneaking around when he took his rookie lap, but you were his girlfriend by the time he scored 5 goals in two periods and everything in between - right until the trade when you felt more like an ex-girlfriend than his partner. Yet, even after so much time apart, you loved him. You could feel it then and there as you sat surrounded by people who applauded him. You could feel it from your head to the very tips of your toes. 

You wanted nothing more to turn around in place and yell it at him. To proclaim it there as the crowd roared along with the game, yet you watched in silence, and welcomed the warmth of Timo’s touch again as he settled to watch the rest of the game with you. 

The two of you remained there long after the game was over and the stands were left empty. You stared down at the empty ice, his hand giving your shoulder a careful squeeze before he spoke out, “get your ass up here.”

“They aren’t waiting for you-”

“We’re in town for the night. I can get a car back to the hotel… com’on, I should be able to help you up,” Timo assured, his arm training outstretched to you as you stood. 

You took his offer carefully, your one hand collapsing with his as the other gripped at the edge of the suite. With his help, you climbed up and over the side, before you settled in the hold of his embrace. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” he whispered into your hair, and your grip on him grew a little tighter. “I’ve missed you.”

You choked back a sob, “I’ve missed you too. So much.” More than you had realized, “but you like New Jersey?”

“Love it,” he sighed, “but-”

“But?” you asked weakly. 

“You aren’t there,” you felt his entire body rise and fall in a heavy sigh, and then came the cold of the arena to creep up on you as he pulled away. But he didn’t go far. He moved just far enough away to dip a hand into his pocket. Then, he offered you one final gift. 

Timo dropped a square velvet box down into your palm. It was small, but it felt like the weight of the world in your hands as your neck snapped back to look up at him. 

“Don’t worry,” he half chuckled, “I'm not proposing, but it is a promise.”

Lifting your hand up, you pushed open the box and let your eyes all on a dainty gold ring with a large ruby accompanying an equally beautiful diamond that glimmered in the light. 

“We were still so young when we first met, you remember?” He asked slowly, one hand finding your hip to draw you back in while the other found your cheek and stroked your hair from your face. 

You nodded, your eyes still fixated on the ring. 

“We still had so much growing up to do, and we did a lot of that together. Two kids screwing around, and even as things got more serious, it didn’t feel like much more than that,” but he didn’t need to tell you that. What he had felt, were the very things you had been feeling, but while you were scared he had been feeling trapped and was using the trade to get away from you, you had been hoping it would have finally been enough to commit to you. 

Almost a year later, you were finally getting your answer. 

“But it should have been. I should have proposed. Two, maybe three years in. Before the trade happened. So long ago,” he said your name like it was a curse, his eyes staring up at the ceiling, trying to hide the emotion that crept up on him as he spoke. “I owed you so much more, and I’ve wasted so much of our time growing up. But I needed it. I needed that time to realize what I had, what I had lost - what I can’t afford to lose, and it’s you. It’s always been you."

“I understand that after all this time, it's too late. That you’ve moved on - or maybe you haven’t, but you want to. You don’t have to say yes, because after what I’ve done I’d be surprised if you’d even say yes to a date with me but not promising to you was the greatest regret I’ve ever had and I’d like to try and make that right, if you’d let me.”

You stared at the ring for a long time in silence. Your eyes flickered from one glimmering gemstone to the other. It was flashy for a promise ring. Expensive. One you would wear on her right finger and not her left  - because the offer required no thought. You were going to accept. 

You loved Timo, and it was clear that he loved you, too. 

“As much as I would love to see you grovel,” you grinned a little too wide as you held out your right hand. It was bare, waiting. 

“There will be so much more time for that.” His words were a playful promise as he reached out for the ring and slid it down into its place on your finger. It was perfect. 

Tears burned as they built up in your eyes at the feeling of the ring around your finger. It was one you would have to get used to, but felt right. This was the way it was meant to be. You and Timo, and you hated how long it took for you both to reach that conclusion, but you were grateful you were finally there. Pressing up onto your toes, you threw your arms around Timo. You welcomed the strength of his arms around your body, and then you welcomed his kiss. Your stomach became giddy with butterflies as if it were the very first time and you smiled, knowing it wouldn’t be the last.

[minisugakoobies]

Day 1 ❄️ KTH

Kinks: face riding, Secret Santa

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: holiday, smut, enemies to lovers, Coworkers!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: drinking, kissing, swearing, face riding, oral sex (f receiving), tongue fucking, grinding, fingering, ass-slapping, fighting while face-sitting because that's what e2l is all about, blatant panty stealing, Taehyung is a cocky menace, Dynamite era blond Taehyung is the look

Word Count: 1.6K

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: Your work rival has an unusual Secret Santa gift for you this year

A/N: Welcome to my 12 Lays of Kinkmas! Thank you to @goodsoop for the brilliant prompts. First up is a little e2l with Taehyung being a menace as usual.

Please don't be a silent reader 🥺 I'd love to know what you think! 💕

Kinkmas Masterlist ❄️ Day 2

“A coupon book? Are you kidding me?!” 

Taehyung merely gazes at you with that annoyingly calm expression of his, the one you loathe, while you pry the booklet out of the box, holding it by the edges as if its very existence offends you. Which it kind of does, seeing as how it’s a gift from your least favorite coworker. And a fucking cheap one at that. This man waltzes around in designer clothes, gets ridiculously expensive haircuts, and drives an overpriced high end luxury vehicle. In your line of work as pharma reps, image is everything. And yet this is the Secret Santa gift he gives you?!

“I made it myself. They say the best gifts come from the heart,” he informs you with a slight pout of his plump lips, brushing his honeyed blond locks out of his face. 

“I’d buy that if I thought you had a heart,” you retort. Kim Taehyung is a master manipulator. He knows exactly how to play your customers. It’s why he’s consistently one of the two top reps at your company. 

But that other top rep? Is you. And you’re too smart to fall for his wounded puppy routine. 

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Just take a look at what’s in there,” he insists, pointing with the hand holding his cocktail, making the ice clink against the glass. He props himself against one of the chairs in front of your desk, the sleeves on his black shirt rolled up to display sinewy forearms that flex as he raises his drink to his lips. Despite your disdain for this man, you have to hand it to him - even in a simple button-down and slacks tonight, he still looks rather luxurious. 

The revelry of the holiday party still raging throughout the floor is slightly muted in here with the door half-shut. You’d ducked into your office to escape that skeevy HR rep from the fifth floor who kept complimenting your dress a little too much, only to be surprised when Taehyung had followed you in, the silver gift box in his large hands as shiny as the rings adorning his fingers.

Curiosity gets the better of you and you flip through the book. The coupons are simple, just stark white text on black paper. Taehyung wanders around your desk, perching on the corner so he can observe you closely while you read. 

“‘Good for one Starbucks run.’ Does that mean you’re buying, or does that mean you’ll go but make me pay?” 

“Didn’t realize I had to spell it out for you, but that means I’d buy.” 

His condescending tone makes you sneer. “Mmm. I should hope so. Oh, now come on - ‘Good for one hour of mentoring’?” You give him a look. 

“What?” The corner of his mouth twists into a tiny smirk. “That’s actually a priceless deal. I wouldn’t give my sales secrets away to just anyone for free.” 

“You’re unbelievable. Congratulations on doing the absolute bare minimum for my Christmas g-” You break off as you turn to the last coupon in the thin book. Reread the words several times. Then glance up at your coworker. “I take it back. Thanks for giving me a completely useless gift.” 

Taehyung’s eyes narrow. “I beg your pardon?” 

“Why would you give me a coupon that’s no good?” And you hold up the final piece of paper, upon which is inscribed, ‘Good for one mindblowing orgasm, no strings attached.’

“No good?!” His pitch rises just as his eyebrow does. “That’s a serious offer.” 

“I’m not doubting that you’re offering, Taehyung,” you purr, voice smooth as silk. “I’m doubting that you can guarantee it.” 

He doesn’t respond to that, just taps his glass with one long finger while his dark eyes study your face. Then he stands and walks towards the door. An insult is on the tip of your tongue as you watch him retreat, until you realize he’s not leaving. 

He’s locking the door. 

You stay silent as he slowly strolls back around your desk. There’s a charge in the air as he places his hands on the arm rests of your chair and leans over until you’re face to face. “Would you like a free sample?” he murmurs, lips close enough to yours that he inhales your shocked gasp. “I’m feeling… generous.” 

It’s not necessarily that you want to fuck your annoying coworker. It’s just that you can’t pass up an opportunity to prove him wrong, especially about something he’d brag about like this. 

That’s what you try to convince yourself, anyway, as you reach out and roll the top button of his shirt between your fingers. “Go on, then.” 

He wastes no time, taking you by the hand and pulling you into his arms. His lips are firmer than they look, keenly sucking your bottom lip into his mouth and lapping at it. You whimper, melting against him, making him laugh. 

“I knew you’d be easy like this,” he hums, one hand sliding under your thigh to lift it, wrap it around him. “Like putty in my hands.” 

“Fuck off,” you grumble roughly. The heat behind your words isn’t anger. It’s pure, unbridled lust, finally released after years of being pent-up. You’ll likely regret this in the morning, but right now, all you want is him. And he clearly wants you too, judging by the sizeable bulge you keep rubbing against. “Don’t you have something you should be doing right now? Something to prove?” 

“So impatient,” he clucks, shaking his head. “Fine. You wanna get right down to it?” His hands slide under your skirt as he cocks a brow. You nod, and he grips the waistband of your stockings, pulling them to the floor as he sinks to his knees. He peels your panties off next, and after you step out of them, tucks the sodden satin into his pocket with a wicked grin. 

“Pervert,” you hiss, trying to hide your delight. 

Your coworker just smirks harder as he arranges himself on his back. When you don’t move from where you stand, he tips his head to give you a questioning look. “Are you waiting for an invitation, or….”

You drop down, shins pressing into the carpet on either side of his head. “God, I can’t wait to smother you.” 

“Then have at it almmmmph.” With very little patience, you lower yourself, cutting off his retort as your cunt rubs against the lower half of his face. His lips kiss against yours rather gently, but then his tongue slides out, wiggling over your clit with stunning strength before he sucks the bud into his mouth, and you nearly topple over in surprise.

“Fuck!” Hand slapping against your desk, you struggle to hold yourself upright, the tough fibers of your office’s cheap carpet scratching at your knees. He does the wiggle move over and over until your eyes start to roll back in your head. “So good, Taehyung!” 

It feels unnatural to praise your coworker. Thankfully for once, he doesn’t respond with his signature smirk or a smartass comment. Instead, he simply hums, burying his face further as he fucks you with his slippery tongue. 

Taehyung’s strong fingers dig into your thighs, urging you to slide forward. Groaning, you start to rock, shamelessly grinding against his mouth. “Yes, just like that!”

He replaces his tongue with one of his long fingers, searching for and finding your sweet spot with uncanny speed. As his finger strokes rapidly, you mewl like a helpless kitten, and he laughs. “What did I say? Like putty.” 

“And what did I say? Get on with it!” you pant, doubling over until your palms hit the floor. In this position, your clit lines up perfectly with his lips, and he pulls the aching nub back into his mouth. “I was promised ah, shit, oh my god!” Your taunt falls apart as Taehyung quickly wrings an orgasm from you. You cry out, hand threading through his caramel locks while you ride out your high on his soaked face. 

Collapsing onto your elbows, you try to catch your breath, jumping in shock when Taehyung slaps your ass. “Hey!”

“That means ‘get off,’” he deadpans, shimmying out from under you. 

“No thanks, just did.” 

Taehyung merely gazes at you with that irksome blank look. “Was that sample to your liking?” he asks, wiping his chin with your panties before pushing them back into his pocket.

You shrug, the picture of nonchalance. “It was satisfactory. I suppose.”

“Good. Merry Christmas,” his tongue caresses your name like it caressed your clit. “When you’re ready to cash those in, you know where to find me.” Turning on his heel, he grabs what remains of his drink and exits your office. 

As the door closes behind him, you flop bonelessly into your chair, relief washing over you, because you were two seconds away from offering to suck his cock. And you're already pretty embarrassed at how fast he was able to get you off. There’s only so much shame and regret you’re capable of processing at once.

The coupon book lies open on your desk. You glance at the orgasm coupon for a moment. Something dawns on you. Grabbing the book, you hastily roll your stockings back on, and then leave your office, heading for the copier room. You may not have proven him wrong, but you’ve won anyway. 

What good salesman forgets to add ‘Limit one per customer?’ 

Masterlist ❄️ Find me on AO3 ❄️ 

© 2022-23 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

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[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Santa Clause is Coming to Town: Single Mom Au

Disclaimer: Buckle up, y'all. This is a long one.

Kela: (steps into the house and kicks the snow off her boots)

Blake: Welcome home, sweetheart. (steps out from her office with a book in hand) How was school? Are you excited for holiday break?

Kela: (looks up at Blake with tears in her eyes and sniffles)

Blake: Oh, baby. (immediately tosses her book to the nearest surface that isn't the floor and rushes to Kela's side, kneeling down to look her in the eyes) Honey, what's wrong?

Kela: (wipes the tears from her eyes aggressively and hiccups) T-The kids at school... *sniff - hic* ...they said that Santa doesn't visit Faunus houses. He doesn't visit animals.... Is that true, Mama?

Blake: (blood boils as she pulls Kela in for a hug) Baby girl, absolutely not. You know Santa shows up every year.

Kela: (crying silently into Blake's shoulder) But we're living with Yang now. What if Santa realizes that this house has mostly Faunus? What if he only visited our apartment before because there were a lot of humans there that he didn't want to skip?

Blake: (mentally making a hitlist for children and contemplating if it's a horrible thing for adults to beat the shit out of students as she holds Kela tight and pets her hair)

Yang: (steps in from the garage, oil and grime cover her jeans and work shirt) There's my favorite ladies! (notices Kela crying) Little Fighter, what's wrong?

Blake: Some kids at school told Kela that Santa doesn't visit Faunus houses because they're animals.

Yang: (eyes flash red) Is that so? ......Excuse me. I think I hear my work phone going off in the garage. (steps out into the garage and the sound of a truck engine turning over fills the house before fading away)

Blake: (mentally) Yang, don't do anything stupid.

-A Few Days Later: Middle of the night, Christmas Eve-

Blake: (green, white, and red lights flash across her face through the cracked open door, pulling her groggily from slumber) What in Remnant? (notices Yang's empty side of the bed) Yang?

Thunk! .....Thunk! .....Thunk!

Blake: (follows the noise to the common room and gasps)

The living room has completely undergone a holiday explosion. The tree has more ornaments, garland and lights are strung in bows along the walls, candles and giant decorative candy canes frame the tree, three brand new stockings with Yang, Blake, and Kela written on them are hung up on a hastily constructed mantle, a fake snowman, and all sorts of glittering decorations are trickled around the room with a few extra presents set up underneath the tree. The presents gift tags read "to Blake" and "to Kela."

Yang: (wearing a Santa hat, white tank top, red trousers with a black belt and suspenders, a red Santa jacket is draped over the arm of the couch, and a pair of brand new work boots on her feet as she steps around the room carefully - leaving behind flour footprints with speckles of glitter on the hardwood floor as she slowly backtracks towards the mantle)

Blake: (mostly speechless and in awe) Yang, what is all this? Where have you been? I've had to tell Kela that you were on an important work project. (realizes she's supposed to be angry and props her hands on her hips) You better have a good explanation for why I had to lie to my daughter.

Yang: (beams a smile that's brighter than the sun reflecting on freshly fallen snow) Hey, babe! Sorry about just dipping out for a few days. After hearing Kela say that Santa wasn't going to show up, I had to make a trip to "Santa's Workshop" to pick up some extra decorations and make a chimney.

Blake: (anger fades) .....You did not go buy all these decorations and a fake fireplace just to make Kela feel better...

Yang: What do you think I am? Made of money? No! (finishes backtracking and slips out of her boots, tossing them in the garage, before going over to Blake in her stocking feet) I went to Patch to get some more decorations, hit up the shop to make this mantle and fireplace out of some plywood and concrete, and asked Weiss for a favor.

Blake: (blinks in disbelief) You asked Weiss for a favor?

Yang: (pulls a white envelope with Kela's name written in fancy calligraphy, red wax seal and glitter out of her back pocket) Couldn't write the letter from Santa myself. Kela would recognize my handwriting. (places the letter next to an empty plate and glass on the coffee table)

Blake: (tearing up) I don't know whether I want to slap you or kiss you right now.

Yang: Well (plucks the Santa hat off her head and places it on Blake's head) you could start with a kiss and decide whether or not to hit me after?

Blake: (adjusts the hat so her ears are more comfortable) Or I could give you a special present early~

Yang: (blushes excitedly) Lead the way, Ms. Clause!

[kuzann]

Escape from the Holidays

My Holiday Truce present for @deuynndoodles! Sam and Tucker get Danny away from the Santa argument for some much-needed relaxation. 💜 Also on Ao3!

Danny trudged his way through the fall season, doing his best to ignore the Christmas merch that was already showing up in stores by Halloween. Holiday creep was annoying in general, but for Danny it acted as an omen of things to come once December rolled around. As the weeks ticked by the knot of stress and anxiety grew in the pit of his stomach; the worst month of the year was approaching and there was nothing he could do about it. He would simply have to endure whatever misery the yearly argument brought just as he did every year.

December 1st arrived. The more restrained organizations of Amity Park at last began to put up their Christmas decorations. FentonWorks lit up in red, white, and green just like the rest of the neighborhood and, like clockwork, the Santa argument began. Danny was long past caring whether Santa Claus was real or not; the only thing that mattered was the fact that the argument made every single December a writhing mass of stress and mess cleanup.

Five days after the start of December he and Jazz sat in the living room after being summoned for a family board game, only for the Santa argument to overshadow everything before the game could even make it out of the box. Jazz hid her face in her newest psychology book while Danny glowered at his parents and wished he’d thought to grab his phone before his dad pestered him into coming downstairs for ‘family time’.

He was just checking his watch for the dozenth time when the front door slammed open. Sam and Tucker hurried into the living room, still breathless from running over. The sudden intrusion put a temporary pause on the argument as the Fentons turned to their new guests.

“Mr. and Mrs. Fenton, there’s a ghost attacking the docks!” Tucker said, still a little breathless from the run as he jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

“You gotta hurry before he gets away!” Sam added. “He’s trying to steal a bunch of shipping boxes!”

“No ghost is making off with holiday gifts while the Fentons are on the job!” Jack declared as he and Maddie drew their concealed weapons. They barged out the door past Sam and Tucker and out into the snowy night.

“Nothing stops the holiday argument like their mutual hatred of ghosts,” Tucker said with a knowing smile.

“Well, we better get going,” Danny grumbled as he stood. “So who is it this time? It’s the Box Ghost, isn’t it?”

“It is, but he’s not our problem tonight,” Sam said with a proud smile of her own. “Come on, you really think your parents can’t handle the Box Ghost?”

“Well since my mom’s out there I guess I shouldn’t worry...” Danny admitted with a small smile. He was already starting to feel a little better now that he didn’t have to witness the Santa argument. “We do need to figure out something for dinner now, though,” he added as he shared a glance with Jazz.

“Don’t worry about it, you’re coming over to my house and we’re ordering takeout,” Sam said.

“We call it Operation: Get Danny Away from the Stupid Santa Argument,” Tucker added with a grin. “And Jazz too, if she wants to hang out with us.”

“Well given that I’ll be all alone here after you guys leave...” Jazz began. “You’re sure you’re okay with me joining in? I’m not gonna cramp your style or anything?”

“Any Fenton who isn’t part of the Santa argument is welcome in my book,” Danny replied.

~~~

Sam’s parents were surprisingly pleasant when the four of them arrived; Danny was under the impression that they didn’t care for him or his family, and tonight he had the sneaking suspicion that Mrs. Manson was going to rub being a superior parent in his parents’ faces at some point in the near future because of all this. Jazz lingered to give them a full rundown of her college plans when they asked what she was up to as a matter of courtesy, which gave Sam ample opportunity to get her other guests upstairs and into her room without any further delay.

Her room was dimly-lit by warm red string lights she’d added recently. The effect was almost cozy, despite Sam’s likely intent of using them to boost the goth look to her room. It was certainly more calming than the sea of Christmas lights that decorated most of the city. The curtains were already drawn when they arrived, blocking off any view of the city beyond. Closed, comfortable, and warm.

“So what kind of food are we feeling like tonight?” Sam asked once they were safely in her room.

“Something other than pizza,” Danny replied as he flopped down on a massive black bean bag chair. “I think I’ve finally had enough pizza for a little while.”

“I could go for some Thai food,” Tucker added as he dropped onto the oversized bean bag next to Danny.

“I know a great Thai place.” Sam turned to a nearby bookshelf and took a binder labeled ‘Restaurants’ from it, then leafed through until she found the page she wanted. “Here we go,” she said as she took the menu from a sheet protector within.

“So organized,” Tucker said with a chuckle as Sam passed the menu to them.

“Well when you have dietary restrictions it helps to remember the places that can accommodate,” Sam said.

“Smart,” Danny said. He leaned in, bumping shoulders with Tucker as he read the menu as well. “Think I’ll pick the pad thai with chicken.”

“Red curry with beef for me,” Tucker said.

Danny leaned back against the bean bag and closed his eyes as Sam left to ask Jazz what she wanted. It was quiet in Sam’s room—soundproofed to keep her and her parents’ music tastes completely separate, for everyone’s sake—and no holiday music reached them here. He could almost pretend that this was just any other month and that he didn’t have another miserable holiday season to look forward to once he left. The ball of stress that sat sharp and heavy in his chest slowly began to unwind.

His phone buzzed with a received text. Danny opened his eyes and checked it: Valerie had made it to her grandparents’ house and was asking how he was doing. He smiled and texted back: [Glad ur safe. Sam & Tucker rescued me from Santa argument so doing good]

“Val checking in?” Tucker asked.

“Yep, she’s safe at her grandparents’ house,” Danny replied. Worry over Valerie staying safe on the slippery roads had been sitting at the back of his mind ever since she left the previous day, and it was good to have it resolved for now.

Sam returned with Jazz in tow. “Food’s ordered, now we just have to wait.” She strolled over and dropped down onto the unoccupied side of the bean bag. “Did I miss anything?”

“Valerie made it to her grandparents’ house,” Danny replied.

“That’s good. The roads are pretty treacherous this time of year,” Sam said. She stretched, then fell back against the bean bag, bumping shoulders with Danny. “She’ll be here next time we do this.”

“Next time?” Danny raised his eyebrows with the question as he looked at her.

“Yeah we were thinking once a week,” Tucker added. “Maybe more often. Depends on how stressed out you get.” He gave Danny a playful poke on the forehead.

“We couldn’t just sit back and let you be miserable for the whole season,” Sam said. “Besides, it’s nice to get a break from the holiday rush.”

Danny smiled, and he let out a long slow sigh as he sank into the bean bag a little further. “Thanks, guys.” He pulled the two into a hug. “This really means a lot.”

“Don’t mention it, dude,” Tucker said as he and Sam returned the hug. “So what should we do while we wait for the food to get here?”

“I found this card game called Five Crowns recently,” Sam said. “Let’s try it out.”

~~~

The Jacks were wild by the time the food arrived at the front door. Danny and Tucker were almost tied for last place with scores exceeding one hundred points while Jazz sat squarely in the lead with only thirty-five. With two hands to go there was still a chance that Sam could unseat her as the to-be winner, but only time would tell.

Sam brought the food up and the four of them sorted out their meals from the bag. They dug in, chattering all the while about school, video games, movies, future plans. The cards had been laid aside for the moment, to spare them the possibility of getting messy from the food.

Danny forgot the date after a while. It felt like any other night of the year, which was exactly what he needed. He was finally at ease as they set the remnants of dinner aside and picked up their game again.

~~~

Jazz won the game in the end, despite a valiant effort to defeat her on Sam’s part. Danny ended with a ridiculous sum of four hundred and twenty-six points. He didn’t mind. It was the simple act of playing the game that he’d enjoyed, win or lose.

With the game over they set about finding other ways to occupy the time. Sam brought up a new fantasy RPG she’d bought recently and asked if they wanted to do a joint save so they could enjoy the story together.

The three plopped down on the big bean bag chair again with Danny in the middle and took turns on the controller, laughing and riffing on the game’s sillier story beats and praising it for the things it did well. Meanwhile Jazz sat at Sam’s desk with a book open before her, a small smile on her face as she kept half an ear on their fun, chuckling every so often at one of their jokes.

Hours drifted past, carrying them late into the evening, and at last the three began to nod off. Sam and Tucker each rested on one of Danny’s shoulders, the book Sam had been perusing laying open across her lap while Tucker’s PDA had almost slipped out of his hand as he slept.

Once she was sure they were soundly asleep Jazz took a nearby blanket and draped it over the three, gently tucking the edges around them to trap in the warmth. Danny was truly fortunate to have such good friends. Getting him away from holiday stress was exactly what he needed, and with them whisking him away like this every few days he would be able to weather the season much better than he had in previous years.

Jazz tiptoed back to the desk and sat down again. She would wake them in a little while to take Danny home, but for now all she wanted was to let him sleep peacefully for as long as he could.