#christmas eve will find me

[lumosinlove]

Christmas Eve Will Find Me

Two: Sirius

Grimmauld Club

London, England

“Do you want to go get a burrito from that place?”

Sirius looked up from his desk. There were miles of paperwork. Mounds of things to do. A five AM flight to catch. God, did he even want to think about it? No. No, he didn’t, not with Remus Lupin looking at him like that. A smile. Hopeful. Sirius wasn’t sure what kind of hope it was. Two friends getting a beer and a meal after a shift? Or—

“Yeah,” Sirius said. “Brilliant, love to.”

Sirius could see himself sitting there, could see the mess of salsa and chips on his plate. Beans and rice that had fallen out. Each time he went back to that tiny restaurant—alone, no one else could know about it, it was theirs—he’d kept looking at the door. He had to stop doing that, they would think he was going to make a run for it. It was ridiculous, him thinking that if he just stared long enough then Remus might walk in. Cash only here, forgot. Just popped to the machine. Flash him a smile. We’re set now.

They’d stayed too long that night. Far too close to their flight. They hadn’t had a thing to drink but Sirius had felt like he had by the end, cheeks hurting from smiling. They’d stood up at the same time, go-bags in hand. So sure of themselves. Such a team. We’ll have to find at least some time to see the sights in Athens—

“You with me, Si?” James’ voice said.

The waiter had just set their drinks down, vest nearly matching the blue-black velvet walls of The Grimmauld Club. Somehow, it was their favorite even though they were never dressed properly for it. Dirty looks for their lack of jacket and tie, but the whiskey was good, they could see all the exits, and the club had their own reasons for letting them get away with it. The club knew who they worked for, at least in theory.

On my way. Remus’ voice said in his mind. Then his own voice. I’ve got you from above.

“Yeah,” Sirius said. “Sorry.”

James had invited him to stay over at his flat last night. Finn, too. Finn had had too many questions and questions weren’t a good fit for a night alone. Sirius hadn’t slept well, squeezed onto the guest bed next to Finn. He’d had the thought that Finn probably hadn’t slept in the same bed as someone since Logan’s death, and then he just couldn’t shake it. Finn had slipped out early in the morning though, because when Sirius opened his eyes he was alone.

“Sorry I’m late,” said a voice from behind them. Accented. American, but not like Finn’s. Louisiana.

Sirius saw James look up first. There was a familiar flash of bright blond hair, a beat up looking computer bag was slung onto the ground, and Leo Knut sat in the chair beside him.

Leo looked between the two of them, then sent a skeptical roll of his eyes around the club. “Didn’t think they were going to let me in.”

James flashed him a small smile. “I think you still forget who you work for sometimes.”

“Oh? And who might that be?”

James’ smile turned wry. “Oh, traffic control of London, of course.”

“Of course.” Leo did laugh, but his eyes were steady when he looked at Sirius. “So, you’ve told Finn.”

“Yeah.”

“Right before wheels up?”

“Yeah.” Sirius knew he would have to go back to his apartment for his bag. But sometimes that one pot in the kitchen stared at him so vividly he thought he would die. Sirius, honestly, you can’t live on take away. Let me make you something.

“What did Finn say?”

“He had a proper freak, to be honest,” James said. “It hurt to watch.” He sent Sirius a sideways look. “He got his hopes up way to fast.”

“So did I,” Sirius said. “Didn’t you?”

James set his glass down hard. “Yeah, but off of a photograph. We’ve got nothing besides that.” Nothing on Logan, he meant.

Leo leaned forward. “Where is he now? His courses are all finished, you can’t just drop that—”

A waiter came up and looked primly at Leo. “May I get you anything, Mr. Knut?”

“Uh—” Leo blinked up at him. “I—just a—what they’re having.”

Sirius saw the waiter give Leo, and his baby face, a skeptical look, but he gave a slight bow and turned away.

“It wasn’t my idea to tell him,” James said. “Sirius insisted.”

“No,” Leo said. “I’m glad you told him, but you can’t just tell him and leave him in the dark.”

“He slept over,” James protested.

“What choice do we have?” Sirius said. “We don’t know anything else, and we’re going to be out of reach. He’ll have to wait.”

Leo scoffed. “Hey, your husband is alive, see you later?”

“May be. May be alive.”

“Before you go shouting at us,” James said. “What exactly are you doing to speed up the process?”

“All that I can,” Leo said. “My facial recognition program is what found Remus.”

Leo’s drink was set down before him, but Leo paid it no mind. He just sent a glance towards the hallway with a simple WC and an arrow on the wall in golden stencil.

That was the other good thing about Grimmauld. It had some very interesting rooms.

James sighed, but made to get up. “They really shouldn’t have put it near the bathrooms. It makes it look like we’re all going to go together.”

Leo’s back room was full of blinking lights and wide monitors.

“Look,” Leo said as he swung into his chair. He clicked around a bit, then pulled up a video file. “This is what the still you saw is from.”

Sirius leaned forward alongside James as Leo hit play. The video had been frozen on a crowded street, not as cropped as they had seen at Salazar. This time, they had to wait for Remus to walk into frame.

“There.” Leo pointed, but Sirius hadn’t needed to be told. He would recognize him anywhere, it didn’t matter how grainy the footage was. He would know his gait. He would know the tilt of his head. Remus eyes were more like blurs, even with Leo’s enhancing technology, but Sirius knew their gold color.

God, Sirius had missed seeing the way Remus walked.

Leo’s finger hit the space bar the moment Remus turned his head. It was close. They could have missed him. He’d only turned when he was almost out of frame, just looking before he crossed the street. Nothing strange, nothing unusual, besides the fact that he was a walking memory. Sirius scanned the background, looking for any eyes on him, but there was nothing. A fruit vendor. The bank whose camera it was. A man putting his wallet away. Someone sitting reading a newspaper at a café table. A mother holding the hands of two children, one of them crying.

“And Logan?” James asked.

“Nothing,” Leo said softly. His voice held some of the hurt that had been in Finn’s voice. Sirius wondered about that sometimes and ached for Leo. “He’s still a ghost. If they’re together, I can’t tell. Or Logan hasn’t been out like Remus has.”

Sirius and James exchanged a look. “Out?”

“If they had really been in Athens all this time, I would have seen them. A camera would have picked them up long before this. And they would have found us if they could.”

“So, what, you think they escaped some type of captivity?”

“Or just Remus. I don’t know. But it’s possible.” Leo frowned. “Why do you think they haven’t contacted us?”

James let out a tired breath and put a hand on Leo’s shoulder. “If we knew that, don’t you think you would know by now, too?”

They drew their chairs close together and stared the footage down, looking for anything to go on. They looked up shop names and got the street name. Lisiou. They clocked nearby hotels, but Remus could have been coming from anywhere, could have taken a bus or a car. He looked clean. Showered and shaven. They watched the footage over and over. Remus appeared from the South and turned his head just as he was almost out of frame, going North.

“Pause it,” Sirius said suddenly. When Leo complied, he pointed. “There’s writing on his t-shirt. Can you make it out?”

“He could have picked it up from anywhere,” James said thoughtfully. “But it’s still something. He definitely wasn’t wearing it when…”

The room quieted, even chilled, until Leo cleared his throat and enhanced the image.

“Shit,” James said when half of a word came into view. “It’s all Greek to me.”

“It’s kind of twisted, but…” Leo frowned and pulled up the Greek alphabet. He went to work matching the letters, and, somehow, the bottom text box began matching them to the nearest English equivalent. “Pi…Piraeus. Piraeus?” Leo muttered the word to himself a few more times before typing it in. “It’s a myth—a city. It’s a bank—though not the one that caught him. And it’s a port.” He pulled up a separate map. “A harbor, there.”

Sirius leaned back. “That’s not too far. That’s a half hour ride at most.”

“We don’t know it actually—”

“We don’t know anything,” Sirius said. “But we start there.” He glanced at the computer clock. “We should get to the airport.”

As they made to go, Leo stopped Sirius with a hand on his arm. His blue eyes looked painfully young just then. Afraid. They weren’t supposed to show fear.

“Sirius,” Leo whispered.

James didn’t stop, too. He knew when someone needed a second. That was the beauty of James.

“I don’t know, Leo,” Sirius answered before Leo could ask.

Leo asked anyway. “Do you think Logan is…”

It wasn’t something he spoke about. It wasn’t something he wanted in his head more than it already was. He didn’t want the tragedy coating his tongue, he didn’t want it blocking his throat.

“I thought I saw both of them…” Sirius swallowed. Die. “Go. I thought…”

Sirius thought maybe Leo was going to press, but he didn’t. He nearly deflated a step backwards. He sank back into his chair with a nod.

“Okay.”

Sirius put a hand on the doorframe. “Are you…”

“I’m gonna stay here a bit.” Leo looked like he was already pulling up footage of the port. Lupin, Remus and Tremblay, Logan typed into a program and the slide of code running fast through the room.

In the hallway, James jingled his keys in his pocket. “Coming to mine?”

“I should go home,” Sirius said. He ran a hand through his hair. He would take hot water while he could. A long shower, alone in the quiet. Who knew when they’d see it again. Safe houses were always safe, that didn’t mean they were always comfortable. “Gotta get my things.”

+++

It was always strange, being in London the night before a mission. There was, of course, the pesky thought that he’d never see this city again. But it looked different, too. The street lights were brighter. The fresh rain on the pavement smelled better. He’d stop for whatever take away of his choosing. They all knew him, the restaurants, but they didn’t at all, did they? He could remember their names, could spot the different take out bags on other customers form a block away. He could say his work kept him up late and smile and laugh with them.

“George,” Sirius said when he entered the small fish and chips shop. It smelled like vinegar and salty chips, frying fish and the paper they got wrapped in.

“Ah, my friend.” George reached across the table to shake Sirius’ hand, then proceeded in getting his unsaid order ready. Strong, capable hands that went through the motions of his life by memory and touch. Watching him made Sirius wish badly for something that familiar. “How are things?”

No one knew about Remus. It was hard to grieve when the only souls he could tell were right there stuck with him.

“Fine,” Sirius said. “The usual.” At least that wasn’t a lie. “How did Matt’s maths test go? He was nervous on Tuesday.”

“Oh, Jesus, what a kid.” George folded the paper expertly, whipping down the sticker with the shop’s logo on it to hold it closed. “Fucking worries about everything. Takes after his mother in that way—and in the way of getting all the answers right.”

“Good.” Sirius smiled and looked down to his wallet, but when he went to hold out his crumbled bills, George put a hand out and simply slid the food over.

“It’s on the house.” When Sirius looked up, alarmed, George shrugged. “No, no, no. Nope. Blame Christmas.”

“I can’t let you do that.” George’s shop was beloved by the neighborhood—his whole family was—but that didn’t mean business was easy.

“You can.” George hesitated. He rubbed a hand on his red beard, blue eyes honest. “If you don’t mind me saying, you’ve not looked your best lately. Matty’s is worried you’re going to, ah, disappear again.”

Disappear. This is what George’s ten year old son Matt called it when Sirius had to work. He was vague about it to them, but honestly probably more up-front than he should be. Five months was too long to pass as a business trip and there were only so many of the agents that could fake trades that took them to archaeologic digs. Sirius didn’t have a family. He didn’t have friends. It was enough for Salazar to expect him to simply lay low. Maybe it was their fault, then, that he’d made this mistake with Matt. He could still see himself crouching down in front of him. With his mother’s dark hair, he looked a little like Regulus had when he was little.

Sometimes, Sirius had said. Sometimes I just have to disappear for a while.

“Just for a bit,” Sirius said softly. He put his money away and picked up his meal. “Tell…Tell him goodbye for me, all right?”

George’s mouth pulled to the side, but he nodded. “All right. And what about Remus? Will we be seeing him around? Matty’s taken a real shining to him, too. It’s been a while.”

Two days ago, Sirius would have had to leave without answering. No. He’s dead. He’s dead, he’s dead, and I never—I never told him that I—

“Maybe.” Sirius flashed him a brief smile. Please, please, maybe.

“Gonna be back for Christmas?”

“Maybe not,” Sirius said. He held up the packet. “Thanks. Really. I’ve got to run.”

“All right.” George sighed and it sounded almost resigned. “All right but… If you need anything…Okay?”

Sirius nodded. “Okay. You, too.”

The bell above the shop door sent him right back.

“I like them,” Remus said. He had already torn open his packet and was munching on a chip with a satisfied smile. He bumped their shoulders together. “I also like you with them.”

“What does that mean?” Sirius had asked.

It had been cold like this then, too. Remus had been wearing a green beanie, pulled low.

“You smile more with them.”

Usually, before a flight, he didn’t sleep at all. He could tell himself he would sleep as he walked down his familiar street. He could take his keys out of his pocket as he opened the low iron gate and tell himself he was going to take a shower and fall right into bed. He could say all of this to himself, but he knew he would end up on his couch, staring at nothing in particular until he had to go.

Remus had changed some of that. For a moment. For a second. Get some sleep. Laying down beside him, tucking his hand beneath his own pillow. Just close your eyes.

God, Sirius had a single glimpse of a moment where he had thought his life might change for the better.

He looked up, preparing himself to face that same room, empty now.

Finn O’Hara was on his stoop.

“No,” Sirius said before he could ask.

Finn looked just as restless. “I’m coming with you.”

#Christmas Eve Will Find Me #winterfic 2023 lumosinlove #woflstar #spy au #Leo knut

[doodles-by-noodles]

Christmas Eve

Okay I know it's actually Christmas proper and I'm LATE- but I had this idea and REALLY wanted to actually make it this year. Christmas Eve shows up in a few of my favorite things and I wanted to make a piece dedicated to that.

Included is Persona 5, Lemon Demon's Cabinet man, Ace Attorney and Toyko Godfathers.

Have a happy December 24th 25th!!!

#jorddoesart #fanart #digital art #persona 5 #akira kurusu #ren amamiya #Because the final boss takes place on Christmas eve #Lemon demon #cabinet man #neil cicierega #the arcades empty I think it's christmas eve #Ace attorney #miles edgeworth #ace attorney fanart #It wasn't christmas!!! #and of course #Toyko Godfathers #satoshi kon #because I BELIEVE they find Kyoko on Christmas eve :) #the movie itself takes place over like the week between christmas eve and new years- bite me #or just watch it- it's a good movie #tw: gun #cw: gun

[felizusnavidad]

Hi so i only recently got into hamilton and really liked lmm in it but ive been seeing a lot of pjo fans talking about not wanting him as hermes and you are a lmm expert so i wondered if you knew why people are hating on him for being casted in pjo?

first of all, i am actually flattered that you called me an expert (i am literally not but i do know a lot, i observe, i go through lmm tag every day, i get mad when i see people talk shit about him, basically i'm super loud about my love for this guy so there's that some call it dedication, i call it obsession lol).

there are a lot of reasons actually but all of them are just so silly to me. for example, some people say he is a bad actor (if hamilton is not enough for you, please go watch his dark materials, he is excellent and i will fight). others say he can't sing (he can, he may not have the most incredible vocals ever, not like most broadway stars and i know a lot of people compare him with the best singers out there, but it doesn't mean he can't sing, also, he is much better now than he used to be years ago, for example i'd recommend listening to vivo soundtrack, especially keep the beat or one more song, i mean EXCUSE ME BUT MY MAN CAN SING). another reason: some people say he is annoying because he puts raps everywhere. ok, and? he is a great rapper, i'll say more: he is also a freestyle rapper, very talented indeed (i recommend checking literally any freestyle love supreme video on youtube or you can just go through my fls tag here. making up rhymes on the spot? pretty insane if you ask me). there is also a group of people who think he is cringe, his rhymes are cringe, some of his songs are not good, etc etc (i bet those people can write better songs). i think he is one of the greatest composers of our generation and i will, of course, fight (haters, please shut the fuck up about the scuttlebutt, this song was supposed to be annoying, you just don't get it apparently? same with my own drum actually. can we just stop pretending that he is talentless because of those songs you guys literally have no taste and you hate fun and also shut tf up). oh, and also, people these days very often say he is everywhere and it's annoying (this is literally his job but whatever). and my all-time favourite: some people are mad that he was playing hamilton because they think he didn't deserve it (he literally wrote the whole thing but ok). one more thing: i have never read pjo, i literally just started reading it only because of lin, so i know nothing about hermes, but personally i really hope he will sing/rap, just because i want to see them all suffer.

there were also other controversial stuff (with in the heights, hamilton and puerto rico) but we are not going to discuss it on my blog, sorry (mostly because i have my own opinion about it and i know i will get a lot of hate for speaking my mind). one thing i can say is that nobody's perfect, we all make mistakes sometimes and i will always fight for him, no matter what.

#thank you for this ask #i really love talking about him and it always makes me super happy to know there are others who love him like i do #please feel free to visit my blog whenever you want to #it's a safe space for lin's fans #will i get hate for it? idk maybe #still i'm gonna tag it so others can find it #lin manuel miranda #lmm #anon #i saved every letter you wrote me* #(i am literally drunk and writing essays about lmm on christmas eve what tf is wrong with me)

[ann-chovi]

GUYS LOOK LOOK AT THIS LIL LAD MY WIFE GOT ME

He will live forever on my hat aaahhhhhh♡♡♡♡

#yamask #we exchange a single gift on Christmas eve because Tradition #and this is what she gave me #I'm dying this is now my favorite pin i own #fucking LOVE my little ghost guy #it's so hard to find Yamask stuff aaahhhh #look tho he's tiny and perfect♡♡♡ #he shall live on my Pi hat

[quill-pen]

A Christmas Confession pt. 1 (Married!ScroogeXReader)

I know, I know! I said I wouldn't post up much more for the story and that I'd only do some requests and headcannon stuff, but since listening to that gorgeous cover of 'Come What May' by Luke, my brain has been fraught with inspiration. And when I followed through with it, it turned into something just a little bit bigger because I've been dying to write Ebenezer being a loving Uncle figure to children. So here we are!

Part two will come along in a bit and bring with it quite a bit more romance. *wink* Right now, enjoy sweet Uncle Ebby with some adorable little girls plus YOU!

Note: Remember, the main idea of the story is you are Marley's estranged daughter raised in America but returned to England to live (for many complicated reasons) in your early to mid-20s (younger half-siblings now included because I want to write father-figure Scrooge and the Cratchit kids and street urchins can't always be around). For the many complicated reasons previously mentioned, you have married Ebenezer--a dear friend--and are struggling with the situation because you truly have feelings for the man, but are convinced he couldn't possibly feel the same.

Also, too late for Christmas stuff? NOT WHEN IT COMES TO 'A CHRISTMAS CAROL'. If Ebenezer can keep Christmas in his heart alive all the year, then why can't I?!

Enjoy!

Pairing: Ebenezer Scrooge x F!Reader (married)

Warnings: None, unless you count pining and seriously adorable Uncle Ebenezer with cute kids.

Summary: Christmas time has come again! This time, (probably at the behest of the children) you and Scrooge have invited the Cratchits and the Huffmans to stay with you for Christmas Eve so that you may all enjoy a Christmas morning together. You and Ebenezer agree to put the children to bed so that the Cratchits might have a break. For once!

A/N: Don't worry--we will get Prudence in the next part! And as always, insanely soft Scrooge.

And if anyone has any idea what the other Cratchit girls besides Kathy (who by all rights would probably be Belinda IDK why so many names got changed in this thing) are, let me know. Because right now, I'm just naming them things that sound right.

Part 2

A Christmas Confession pt. 1

Arms crossed over your chest, you leaned against the doorpost and watched with a small smile on your face as Millie and the young Cratchit girls knelt at the side of the bed, heads bowed and hands clasped in the nightly prayer: “Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep….”  Once they’d finished the recitation, they went around the bed, each thanking or praying to God individually about something or someone in turn.  Millie started off the round: “I thank you, God, for sending us the baby Jesus.  And I also pray that my friend Betty in Cincinnati has a nice Christmas this year.  She told me in her letters she was wanting a new doll and a dress--I hope she gets them.  I would just like a pony, with Christmas ribbons in its mane and tail.  Thank you, God.”

You fought back the urge to laugh at that, successfully turning it into a quiet snort.  Oh, you’re adorable but highly tenacious baby sister!  Even at six years old, you could already tell you were in for a whirlwind of a time raising her up.  God help you when the teenage years came! 

A large, warm hand enclosed over your shoulder, drawing your attention away from the children to see Ebenezer standing just behind you.  “How are we coming?” he murmured, eyes on the girls.

“We’re just finishing up our prayers,” you whispered back.  “How are the boys?”

“Tucked in, waiting for you to come say goodnight.”

You gave him a look of disbelief.  “What?!  You mean to tell me you have that rowdy lot in bed already?  How on earth did you beat me?”

The silver-haired man flashed you one of his divinely roguish smirks, making your knees feel the slightest bit wobbly.  “I, my fine lady, am a man of many talents,” he whispered mysteriously.

Raising an eyebrow you smirked back.  “Hmm, bribed them with sovereigns.  I see.”  You tsked your tongue and shook your head at him.  “Cheater.”

Ebenezer didn’t even try to deny it, just merely burred that beautiful chuckle of his that stirred your soul.

The two of you fell silent and watched on as the girls continued on around their individual prayers.  Ebenezer’s hand stayed on your shoulder, a wonderful, gentle, steady, and warm weight that conversely sent shivers tingling along your nerves.  Oh, how you wished he’d put that hand around your waist and pull you into him, as close as a real wife should be.  Or at least take one of your own hands into it and twine your delicate fingers together with his attractively large ones.  There was no hope for it--you wanted to be completely and utterly possessed by him.  Not merely carnally (though that in itself was a major appeal) but in the soft, devoted, domestic way too; the way you’d see the Cratchits and Huffmans behave towards each other; the way you’d see couples walking the street act; the way you’d grown up watching your mother and step-father interact.  What you would have given to be totally and completely the woman of the house--to be Ebenezer’s woman.

But there was no point in pining for things that wouldn’t come to pass, so you forced your mind away from the concept and put it back on the girls, who were coming to the end of their personal prayers.  Millie added in one last time: “Also, God, I know I’m still just a little girl, but I’d take really good care of a pony if I had one.  I promise--cross my heart.  Honest.  Amen.”

Again you snorted, and you heard the man beside you rumble out another amused chuckle as well.  “She certainly knows how to work the system,” he remarked.

“Oh, she’s completely incorrigible,” you told him.  With that, you moved back into the room (regretfully slipping out from Ebenezer’s touch as you did) and approached the children.  “All right, girls, very good.  Now let’s get into bed.”  You pulled back the thick covers and watched as they all filed between them one by one.  

“We’re not sleepy yet,” Tilda and Maggie protested, despite snuggling in next to Millie.

“We want to stay up and try to catch Father Christmas!” Alice added enthusiastically.

An entire chorus of excited agreement went up from the girls

“But he won’t come unless you’re all sound asleep,” you countered, smiling the slightest bit.  Oh, to be a child on Christmas Eve again!

“Why?” sweet little Judith asked.

All five sets of eyes shined brightly up at you in innocence and wonderment, awaiting an answer.  An answer that you, admittedly, were a little bit stumped over.  “Um… well… that’s just always been the way it is.”

“But why?” Millie pressed further.

“Because that’s how Father Christmas’ magic works!”

You and the girls turned to see Ebenezer coming into the room, slate-blue eyes as bright and shining as the children’s.  He smiled and winked at you as he moved towards the bed.  You felt your heart flutter just a bit, the slightest warmth of a blush color your cheeks.  Thank God the flickering firelight would help conceal it.  

The tall man went around the bed and sat on the side opposite you, beaming down at the snuggled-up little girls in a way that made your heart positively melt.  “You see, girls, Father Christmas has a very special kind of magic that can only work when you are all asleep,” Ebenezer twisted up his face in a comically sneaky way and peered around conspiratorially as if he were about to relay a very important secret that only they were supposed to hear and then whispered, “because the magic is fueled by your Christmas dreams!”

You made saucer-wide eyes along with the girls and exclaimed, “Ooooh!” 

“Yes,” Ebenezer continued.  “That’s why you must all sleep tonight so that you may dream and give Father Christmas all the power he needs for his magic to work.  Why without your dreams to help him, he would never be able to travel the world and deliver presents to all the little boys and girls!  And we wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

“No!” Judith exclaimed, her eyes twice the size they normally were and so full of sweet innocence it broke your heart.  She clutched her dolly preciously to her.  

“No,” Ebenezer agreed with a serious shake of his silvery head.  “I didn’t think so.  So off to sleep for each of you.”

“How come we have to go to bed, but the grown-ups don’t have to?” Maggie asked.

“Yeah, shouldn’t they be sleeping so their dreams can help the magic too?” Tilda added.

That time it was Ebenezer’s turn to look stumped.  Clearly, he hadn’t thought that far ahead in his story.  “Um… w-well-”

“Grown-ups’ dreams aren’t as powerful as children’s dreams,” you came to his rescue.  “But we make up for it by helping Santa in making sure that all of the children go to bed on time so that he has enough magic when he needs it.”

“Precisely!” Ebenezer brightened, smiling gratefully at you.  Then he became very serious and stern as he turned to the girls again.  “Which is why you must all go to bed at once,” he ordered, poking a ticklish finger into each little girl's tummy, causing them to squeal with laughter.  “Because if you do not go to sleep, we will be failing in our duty to Father Christmas!  Understood?”

Still giggling, the girls all sounded off: “Yes, sir!”

“Very good!” Scrooge said, voice still gruff like a Sergeant Major General’s.  “Now, good night!”  With a devilish gleam in his eyes, the man loomed down over the girls and gave them each a good hard nuzzle on the face with his cheeks, evilly chuckling ‘good night’ over and over.  The girls laughed harder and tried to push him away, shrieking and squealing about his “whisker tickles”.  That only made him continue with more vigor.

You couldn’t help but laugh right along with them.  “Ebenezer, at this rate you’ll get them so stirred up again they’ll never be able to sleep for Santa!”

Laughing as well, Ebenezer pulled back to give you an acquiescent smile.  “I suppose you are right, my dear.  Without these little ones’ dreams, Father Christmas may never get his sleigh off the ground!”  With that, he turned back to the girls and leaned back in, only this time to administer gentle kisses to their brows.  Each girl gave him a return kiss on the cheek; Millie went a bit further to reach up and hold his face in place as she blew a wet raspberry into his muttonchop.  (The man grimaced but judging how he still smiled, he didn’t seem to mind too much.)  “Good night, my lovies,” Ebenezer murmured softly, an adoring gentleness in his blue eyes.  “Sweet dreams and happy Christmas.”

“Good night, Uncle Ebby!” the girls chorused as he stood to leave.

“Right to sleep now,” you told the girls as you too stood up and began to leave.  “No talking.  Remember Santa’s counting on you to help him work tonight.”

“Yes, Y/N/Auntie Y/N!”

There was still the faint noise of giggling and whispered chatter as you closed the door, but it was quickly beginning to die down.  Ebenezer’s magic had worked.

A mildly disgusted groan caused you to turn and find the man in question wiping at his spittle-slicked cheek with his handkerchief.  

You giggled and pulled out your own handkerchief from your sleeve.  “Here, let me.  Your silky thing won’t do the job.” 

With a grateful smile, Ebenezer gentlemanly bowed his face towards you.  "That girl is going to be a menace to society, I tell you," he said, only half-jokingly.

You hummed in agreement as you cleaned him up, still having to stand a bit on tiptoe to do so (lovely, tall man…).  "Don't I know it?  She is her father's daughter--George was a… character.  But I adored him.”  You gave him a knowing smile.  “Just as you adore Millie."

Ebenezer gave you a playful scowl, the softness in his eyes saying you were right.  “You’d better go see the boys now,” he said, once you’d finished drying him off.  “And then we’d better check on the older children to make sure they got themselves to bed.”

You nodded and put your kerchief away.  As you followed him down the hall, you were still thinking about Ebenezer’s story.  You’d never heard anything like it before.  “Where’d you come up with that?” you asked, looking up at him.

The man raised a bushy brow quizzically.  “Beg pardon?”

“The story about Santa’s magic fueled by children’s dreams.  Did you hear that somewhere or did you just make it up on the spot?”

Ebenezer smiled.  “Oh, that.”  He chuckled.  “Well, yes, I did come up with it, as a matter of fact, when my sister and I were children.”  A sort of sad haze came into the man’s beautiful eyes to mix with the happiness of the memory as he reminisced.  “You see, Jen was like any other child on Christmas Eve--well so was I, rather, for a while at least.  Apparently, our parents couldn’t give her a satisfactory answer as to why she should go to bed rather than stay up and wait for Father Christmas.”

“So you came up with the reason for why.”

“Exactly.”

“Did it work?”

“It did.  And Jen would ask me about it every Christmas after, even beyond the point where we stopped believing.”

You smiled and gently nudged the tall man with your shoulder.  “She liked the story,” you said.  “It is a good story, I must say.  Certainly much more fun than what we were given: Mama and George told us if we didn’t go to bed, Santa would simply pass right over our house.  It seemed to do the trick for us.  Although my final year of believing, I did sneak out of bed and stayed up.”  You laughed at the memory.  “Sakes alive, did I give poor old George a fright when he came down early to put the presents out!  He just about took me over his knee to tan my hide!”

“And I take it catching your stepfather was what caused your belief to fade,” Ebenezer surmised, looking a little amused by your story.

“Yes,” you admitted a little forlornly.  “It was sad.  I think it’s always sad when you stop believing in that sort of magic.”

“Yes,” Ebenezer agreed, also looking just a bit sad.  But then he quickly gave you a bright smile.  “But then you discover a new magic in making the old magic for others, and then you begin to believe again.”

“Just in a different way,” you said, understanding his meaning.

The man only beamed in agreement.  “That was a very nice addition to the story, I must say,” he said after a moment.  “The bit about adult dreams not being as powerful as those of children.”

You raised your chin a bit haughtily and flipped a curl of your hair with a smug smile.  “Why thank you, kind sir,” you purred.  “I thought it was inspired.”

Ebenezer chuckled at that.  “You know, I’d forgotten that story,” he remarked as you both pulled up in front of the door to the boys’ room.  “Until now.”  He had a distant, contemplative look in his eyes.

Feeling a bit bold, you reached out and grabbed his hand, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze.  You smiled genuinely at him.  “I’m glad you remembered it, Ebenezer,” you told him.  “The girls enjoyed it and… and so did I.  Truly.”

Ebenezer had looked a bit surprised when you’d taken his hand so suddenly.  Now the surprise was fading back into warmth and affection.  He squeezed your hand back.  “Then I shall strive never to forget it again, Y/N.”  

There was something in his manner; something extremely soft and unknown to you in his voice and gaze; something that warmed your being from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.  For the umpteenth time, your heart fluttered--your breath caught in your throat.  You may not have known what it was, but you knew you never wanted him to stop looking at or talking to you like that.  Could… could he possibly- the thought was dismissed from your mind before it even had time to fully process.  No.  No, it wasn’t that; it wasn’t possible.  Ebenezer saw you as his very dear friend and that was all; he would never look at you or speak to you in a way other than that.  It was just fanciful thinking on your part that that warmth in his manner could be something more.  Merely wishes.  It was simply the merriment of the evening and the excess joy of the children rubbing off on everyone, enhancing every emotion.  It was the spirit of Christmas--that was all.

You shook your head, clearing off the daze.  “Well,” you said, clearing your throat before adding significant volume to your tone so you would be heard through the door, “we’d better go make sure these boys are asleep!”  With that, you, rather reluctantly, let go of Ebenezer’s hand.  And if you weren’t so deadset on Ebenezer seeing you as nothing more than a friend, you could have sworn his release was reluctant as well.

@the-house-of-auditore-frye @oldmanlusting

#scrooge 2022 #ebenezer scrooge #ebenezer scrooge x reader #ebenezer scrooge x you #slow burn #romance #uncle ebenezer #married couple #pining--oh the pining! #children on christmas eve #that one character you KNOW is going to be an absolute little shiester but you'll adore them anyway #babysitting? kind of? #GIRL--HE LIKES YOU--GO FOR IT!!! #Can someone explain to me how to use the gif thing please? It takes forever for me to find anything I want #Youtube

[andragoras-in-vanity]

i cant wait for the day i get to love someone, cuddle into them when i hurt, have dinner together, dance in the kitchen... i really just want to be held and listen to his heartbeat and know im safe no matter what goes wrong

#the touch starvation is eating at me and my piercer better get back to me before Christmas eve or im going to beat my braggy cousin #i really need to be touched and i have no one and no way of getting that #i dont even want sex i just want physical love #i want someone to hold me hand and hug me when they come home i want to make things for them and koss them goodnight #i feel like im going to choke im so empty and deprived of physical contact but i really dont want it unlesa its from the one person i need #most and cant find

[jayteacups]

Kuchel: Are you excited for Christmas, baby? Little Levi: Shittin’ bricks! Kuchel: Levi! You shouldn’t say that. Little Levi: Sorry… shittin’ rocks. Kuchel: KENNY!!!

I LOVE THIS askdjs picturing Kuchel doing the infamous 'Kenny scream' made me giggle thank you. We all know in a modern AU, whenever Kenny comes over to babysit he makes it a personal mission to teach baby Levi as many curse words as he possibly can, much to Kuchel's dismay. She's just dreading the day she gets a call from Levi's school telling her he taught all the other kids a bad word too...

#in this au kenny buys levi a switchblade for christmas #waits until xmas eve to put it under the tree hoping kuchel will be too busy to check #obviously it doesn't work #she's opening it long after everyone else is asleep #and swaps the switchblade out for one of them toy lightsabers #when levi opens it kuchel is so smug looking at kenny's flabbergasted expression #and openly laughs every time levi whacks kenny with the lightsaber whenever kenny teases him #its a mystery as to what she's done with the switchblade and kenny's too scared to find out #aot asks #aot hcs #levi ackerman #kuchel ackerman #kenny ackerman #the ackerfam gives me life

[raksh-writes]

Gosh, Im itching so bad to buy the new Return to Moria game and get to play it myself. I’ve been watching in on a couple of streams, so I know it fairly well by now, and I also know that it'd be more fun wirh friends when Im definitely gonna be playing solo, but Im still So tempted. It just looks like a fun, chill survival game and it's connected to LotR and Im just skrmcljwndoenr. But I shouldn’t be spending more of my savings that necessery when Im not working and dunno when I'll be able to. Aghhhhh...

#personal #I could... maybe... consider this a christmas present to myself? #especially since Im gonna be all alone for new years eve #so maybe I could spend it having some fun in the game... #and I do have enough savings to last me for at least a few months if I spend it moderately #just for train tickets and some food here and there as Ive been doing so far #Im living with my parents so at least the living costs I dont have to worry about #and then in the spring/summer it should be easier to find a part time job that Id be able to fit around my classes #tho I'll have to get an intership in the summer too #and thats not paid work for uni #but anyway #I try not to worry about that too much #it is why I saved up all that money #so I could focus only on uni at first #and then try to find something part time #so I dont get overwhelmed too quickly #but this game is not cheap and Im hhhhhhghhgh #I'll prob play it halfway and never finish #but on the other hand... that still might be some up to 30h of fun and spending time Not thinking of the everyday dread etc #soooo... I dunno #but I might just break and buy the game anyway... #I rarely Actually want something enough to go through with buying it #even when I maybe should (like some more clothes) #(but I Hate clothes shopping so I avoid it at all costs 🙈)

[fruitcakeddog]

PTT Chuck's characterization is so fascinating to me and I know the changes were probably just changes and nothing deep but like. Come on. Stinky rat man had a character arc!

#cec #pizza time theatre #ptt chuck #the writer in me just finds it boring to not give him depth. I give everyone depth. I just do #it's the tism in me #also! happy holidays! I keep forgetting it's christmas eve because I work today

[lumosinlove]

He could still feel him. He saw him everywhere.

#Christmas Eve will find me lumosinlove #finnlo #more to come soon!!

[aercanum]

❝ i’m not going in a graveyard, are you crazy ? ❞  /  erica for lucas !!  |   halloween sentence prompts   |   @bridgesburnd​​

“it’s either come into the graveyard with us, or stay out here, in front of the graveyard, by yourself and wait.  those are your options.”   not that he’d ever admit it, but privately, lucas agrees with his sister  ---  dustin’s lucky that begging for his participation in this little short film had been enough to make him ignore every deeply-rooted self-preservation instinct he has to follow the curly-haired menace into a graveyard in the middle of the night.  why they couldn’t have done this during the day, he’ll never know.

as though answering the unasked question, dustin’s voice floats over to them from where he’s already ventured out amongst the graves.  c’mon, it’s for the atmosphere!  lucas gestures over his shoulder in a kind of there ya go motion, eyebrows jumping up his forehead.  “i mean, if you’re too scared... you can just go home.  bet mom and dad are wondering where you are anyway.”  

#bridgesburnd #‹ lucas sinclair. ⌜ answered. ⌟ #not me JUST finding halloween memes buried in my queue #and posting them #on christmas eve

[lettersiarrange]

Recently I've been feeling like the seasons are slipping through my fingers.

Back when I was really struggling with my mental health, I tried to get intentional about celebrating change, the seasons, festive traditions, small moments of joy. But it all felt so hollow. I'd sit underneath a ruby red tree and listen to the wind rustle the autumn leaves and think I should be enjoying this. I'd bake Christmas cookies and tell myself this should make me happy. But it always just felt like going through the motions. Useless and performative.

And then I got diagnosed and medicated and cherry blossoms were a revalation. The warm sunshine of summer was a wonder. The barren winter stillness was poetry. Isn't it incredible how the world is constantly changing around us? And yet it repeats itself so we have the opportunity to experience it again.

But I didn't bake any Christmas cookies this year. I only saw the fall leaves in passing. I may have marveled at the beauty of a pink sunset kissing untouched fields of snow, but I never took the time to feel the cold air in my lungs and sit with the quiet of the twilight.

Is this what being an adult is like? Racing from one month to the next? Wanting and intending to cherish every mundane magical moment--just right after this-- only to look up and find they've passed you by?

I know I can still bake Christmas cookies in February. But it's not quite the same, is it?

#i feel like i missed christmas this year #i was so busy at work just trying not to drown under my overwhelming project #that when it finally wrapped up just before christmas eve i could barely even process that i was supposed to be celebrating #but it was true for the fall too. i was busy. i wanted to go out and enjoy the colors. but it just never happened #i feel like i spend every weekend recovering from work and barely have a moment to catch my breath #I'm finally in a place where i can appreciate these small joys again #but i don't even have the time to take my foot off the gas to slow down enough to really notice them #i know that seasonal celebrations don't just show up at your door and decorate your house for you #that you have to be deliberate and intentional about appreciating every new holiday and the change in weather that comes with it #but with what time? what energy? what communal events? #maybe i just need to get out more #but i don't know how to put myself into a headspace that's ready to take a breath and sit with the world around me #I'm running behind and out of breath already #when am i supposed to find the time not just to rest but to recharge? #i just don't know

[pussy-ache]

i didn't technically spend christmas eve/christmas alone but it kinda feels like i did

#depression is pretty crazy #i made plans to be with someone christmas eve and christmas day specifically to avoid this feeling and yet it circled back around to me #and it's not like it wasn't fun and didn't (in a way) make me feel loved #but i'm still always empty #and always running from something that always finds me anyway #it's such a temporary respite and always has been. whenever i have to leave i cry because i know the emptiness will come back #it ALWAYS finds me anyway #doesn't matter that i was crawled up in a lap and held #i don't want to be in my own bed right now #and i don't want to go to work tomorrow either

[hacksawboy]

just beat postal 3 i wanna kill myself

#i actually didnt even hate the game that much like. i love bad games and i can find the good in them so i was enjoying it for a while #but the last few levels were so fucking bad it sucked everything out of me #first few hours of christmas eve spent in suffering because of some twink in a swat uniform #i had to use a cheat code to beat the final boss he was too hsrd #ive never beaten a game and not felt accomplished till this moment

[pinkandrainyclouds]

I am done with this job. Like you expect me to work eight hours daily and then be on call all week and resolve the most ridiculous things

#i am done! #as a matter of fact I’m tempted to quit this month and let them scramble to find someone #to cover Christmas Eve and January 1st #like the idea of continuing to work here genuinely makes me want to cry

[eddiernunson]

Waiting Room Problems | Eddie Munson x fem!Reader | 18+ |

Summary: a rough landing in a fight with your brother causes you to land in a crowded waiting room. Meanwhile a rough deal also sends Eddie the same fate. Somehow, somehow you try to keep your eyes on your phone and off his tiny little waist. It proves... difficult.

Warnings: strangers to lovers, fleeting glances, slightly cocky Eddie, sex in a public bathroom (trust me on this, just trust me), and general horniness at Eddie's general appearance, unprotected piv, against the wall fucking, deep throating, daddy kink

Authors note: I just spent 8 hours last night (when | wrote this) in the fucking waiting room. At two hours in a guy came in and he radiated Eddie's energy so my mind ran away with it. (Everything is ok).

Thanks for the hype on the preview! Hopefully this lives up to the hype

Thanks so much to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing bestie ❤️

As the night swallows you whole, you sit in your mom’s passenger seat of her car as she drives you to the ER. While roughhousing with your older brother you landed on your hand wrong and bent it way back. It’s definitely not broken, but it for sure needs to be looked at.

As the lights of the night pass you by, you insist you’re fine and the sprain will heal after a few days. Your mom, however, was having none of it as you rolled your eyes in exasperation.

She’s as stubborn as you are, so you sit arms crossed as you know you have no choice. Ouch, ok, crossing your arms was a bad idea.

She wishes you well, her kind eyes wide as she leans over to ask you to keep her updated. You can’t help it, slamming the door after letting her know you will. You should’ve been enjoying some spiked eggnog and watching holiday movies, but now you’re spending Christmas Eve in the ER.

The large window to the waiting room lets you know there’s already a long line up just waiting for the triage and most seats are taken. Fuck, you’re in for a long night.

The kind and sunny nurse takes your vitals and information, gently assessing your symptoms and palpating your wrist carefully. She lets you know it’s definitely sprained and will need a gauze wrap.

Soon, you find yourself sitting in a brown, cracked, leather chair sitting close to a man who is coughing up a lung and groaning in pain after each bout. Not that there are many options to begin with.

Your phone in your hand and your charger in your bag, you sit comfortably and wait for your name to get called as you look at memes and watch videos with one headphone in.

Ninety minutes goes by while your best friend texts you to keep you busy and entertained, not even noticing you’ve been waiting for so long. Thank god for her.

For the first time in a while, you look up to assess the state of the waiting room. As far as you recall, about five people have been called to the back. Those seats have been replaced with new patients and their support, what seems to be a never-ending cycle.

Your eyes flick to someone who walks into the line that is long enough to extend into the hallway, stepping up a place in line and finally into the actual waiting room. Your eyes scan him, the boots, the ripped jeans, the leather jacket covering a graphic tee, all leading up to his shaggy brown hair and gorgeous face.

Your mouth partially opens, momentarily taken aback by how unbelievably hot he is. There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong, at least, until you notice the tear in his shirt peeking at white gauze on his torso. From the stain, it’s clear he was injured.

His face doesn’t reflect such, patiently waiting as the two triage nurses take their time. By the third time he blinks, you realize you’ve been staring and shift your eyes back down to your phone.

As the line moves, his boots in the corner of your eye, you grow increasingly aware of how much you want to continue staring at him. Something about him is just so enticing, drawing you in. Especially his lack of response to a wound as such.

Time passes on and soon you find yourself bored of the videos and turn on your Spotify to the comfort playlist. Your eyes flicker to the triage station, wandering around the room aimlessly. Unfortunately, it lands on the stranger you’ve been lingering on and witnesses him lifting his shirt to show the nurse the reason for his visit.

The black shirt lifts to show a slim waist scattered in black and grey tattoos, lifting the white gauze to reveal a gnarly wound. You can’t tell but from its shape it looks to be a stab wound. However gory his uncovered wound looks; you can’t help but stare at his bare torso.

Then, it fucking happens. His eyes flicker to you, for a fraction of second, he keeps the eye contact. His mouth twitches, leaning into something you’d call a smirk. As a reflex you shift your eyes away from him, cheeks heating up in embarrassment from getting caught.

You spend the next few minutes convincing yourself that it was all in your head, and that for all he knew you were zoned out and happened to be zoned out on him. It feels like a reach, especially with his torso as revealed as it was.

Time itself blurs as you zone out on your phone, attempting to distract yourself from your thumping heart and the arousal that pools into your cotton underwear. A shift in movement catches your eye, blurred and black in your periphery.

Your eyes by reflex glance up, catching a glimpse of him slouching in his chair, a foot resting on the other as knee he uses wired headphones and stares at whatever’s on his phone. Somehow, his confidence at making himself at home is still attractive, drool gathering in your mouth.

You look down at your phone before he catches you again, this visit at the ER sending a thrill through you that you didn’t expect in the least.

More and more people get called to the back, and you're still stuck waiting. Everyone who you’ve told is surprised to say the least that it’s been hours and you’re still just in the waiting room. You don’t mind though, sneaking glances at the beautiful stranger has become your favourite pastime.

Four hours in, if someone asked your highlight it would be when he head-banged to whatever assumingly heavy metal band he listens to. By the time the nurse calls your name to the back, it takes a strong second place.

About twenty minutes pass before it’s your turn for a bed, and you are let your eyes wander around, now bored of your phone. As they do, they catch sight of the man you’ve kept an eye on yawning in a big stretch. What this yawn has you so captivated by is the sliver of skin his stretch reveals, and the curly brown treasure trail that peeks from just above the hem of his low sitting jeans.

Your mouth floods with saliva. With your mouth agape and eyes subtly widened, you can’t help but gawk at him. Something about the way you suddenly picture yourself pulling him into the bathroom to nuzzle into his hair takes you aback just a little bit.

Time slows down for you, stretching into hours, but it's only seconds. Finally, as his body relaxes from the stretch you turn your eyes back to his face, hoping he didn’t see your fleeting glance. Startlingly, his eyes are already on yours. This time you can’t find it in you to look away in embarrassment. As if reading your mind, he smirks right at you, and you swear his brown eyes darken a shade.

This time for sure, he caught you. He doesn’t seem to care one way or the other, arms crossing over his chest as he keeps his smug expression right on you.

It’s hard to resist the smile as you go back to your phone, promising to yourself that you will remember his face for as long as you can.

-

Eddie thanks Gareth for dropping him off at the hospital, gritting his teeth at the slight pain stretching his torso gives him.

As he wanders into the hospital, his eyes take in the crowded waiting room and he groans, wishing the wound wasn’t so fucking deep.

He got stabbed. He got fucking stabbed. Wayne is going to kill him when he finds out he got into a fight, especially one where knives were in the crossfire. He couldn’t even say how the situation got so heated so quickly, just another fight in a parking lot after a deal goes sour.

The guy pulled a fucking knife on him, pushed it into his torso and ran off with the goods before Eddie could even realize he had been harmed.

All for fucking weed. Wasn’t even cocaine!

It takes a stupid amount of time for him to finally get to the nurse. She tells him to sit down for his vitals, and he refuses, wanting to show the wound and get it out of the way.

He lifts his shirt at her request, showing the darkened gauze and hissing as she takes a closer look at the wound when it’s removed. Eddie realizes the irony of exposing his chest in the triage, looking up to face the windows that allow other patients to see through.

He does a quick scan of the room, no one having seemed to notice how he’s shirtless. No one, but you. He saw you when he walked in, you were on your phone with one earbud in as you tapped your feet to whatever beat you were listening to. He thought you were cute, his mouth twitching in a smile as he notices you’re cradling one arm across your chest.

It couldn’t have been confused with zoning out, your mouth in a small O shape you openly stare at him. The look you have on your face is enough to turn Eddie on a little, having the urge to caress your face as you look up at him with those same wide eyes. His mouth twitches as he thinks of it, the thought enough to distract him from the shooting pain in his chest.

Your eyes dart away as soon as it registers that he’s looking back at you. His smile widens even more as you sink in your seat, your eyes glazing over as you scroll through your phone. Made him want to embarrass you more, in much worse ways.

After the nurse takes his vitals, he’s instructed to sit down, thanking some deity that the seat across from you is freed. You’re keeping yourself distracted, much to his dismay, so kicks his shoe to grab your attention, placing it on his other knee.

It works as well as he hopes, your eyes flickering up to him. He can’t help but look as if he can’t be bothered. In the corner of his eye, you look back to your own phone, biting your lip.

Eddie spends the next little bit getting your attention however he can, wondering how much it takes for your eyes to wander back to him. By trial and error, not much. He turns on a heavy metal band, nodding his head enthusiastically to the loud drum beats.

As time goes on, he gets more bored and waits impatiently for his name to be called. He figured stitches would be a priority, no? It’s past his bedtime, he decides, as he yawns a big stretch, despite the pain he causes for himself.

As he does, he catches the way your eyes are glued to him, particularly the strip of skin his shirt lifts to show. In real time, Eddie witnesses your eyes glaze over and how your teeth nervously graze your bottom lip. Whatever was on your mind, he desperately wanted to know, mesmerized at the way your throat swallows.

Finally, you make eye contact with him, and Eddie needs to let you know how much he just saw, your lust for him clear as day. He can’t lie, the feeling is entirely mutual, the look on your face is something he wants to see over and over as he rails— he’s getting ahead of himself.

Instead, he opts for a smirk, admiring the way your pretty eyes hold his gaze this time. He relaxes back into his chair, daring you to say something as he smiles with a hint of satisfaction…and all the cockiness his body can handle.

You shyly look back at your phone, failing to hide the smile that invades your face. It takes Eddie a moment to gain the courage, but he finally decides he can’t let you go if he's nursing a hard on in the fucking waiting room from your gaze alone.

By the time he finds a pen and paper to give your number, he’s writing it down when the nurse calls your name.

Eddie sighs, watching your ass in those jeans as you walk away. Just his luck.

-

As the new year passes, the memory of the hot stranger in the waiting room fades, much to your dismay.

The very night you had a dream where he meets you in some sort of dark room, tugging down your jeans you were wearing and wrapping those hands around your neck as he fucked you from behind.

Your hyperventilating mixed with the way your cunt spasmed as you came woke you up, taking a minute to catch your breath. That morning you groaned in frustration, wanting nothing more but to track him down.

Days passed and soon you’re in the grocery store, arm still wrapped for another week as you walk around the store for some basics. Milk, eggs, bread, all on your mother’s tab, of course. You were two seconds away from pushing your small cart to the checkout counter when you remember you're out of mouthwash.

As you try to decide whether to grab the one you liked which was not on sale or the one that was, a set of footsteps pass and settle right next to you, the customer also assessing mouth hygiene products.

The person's foot tapped, and by reflex you switch your glance down to the sound, and immediately recognize the boots. Your head moves up so fast you swear you give yourself whiplash to his face, facing the shaggy locks you found yourself obsessed with that night in the ER.

“Oh shit” you say out loud, before you could even stop it.

His eyes flicker to yours and recognize you off the bat. His smile gives way to deep dimples. He’s exactly as hot as you remember, if not more.

Of course, you can’t find it in yourself to assume he recognizes you, even if his eyes spell it out for you. “Sorry, I-I just remember you from the ER last month. How’s that stab wound?”

He chuckles, something that makes your legs clench together. “Uh, it’s better.” He comments, lifting his shirt to demonstrate. Is it unnecessary for Eddie to show his stitches? Absolutely. Did he do it for the visual reaction he missed so much? Also, yes.

Unfortunately, his bare waist is gone as soon as it appears, barely giving you a second to take in the purple stitches. You bite your lip as you glance at his face, his smirk displayed almost driving a whimper out of you.

“How’s your arm?”

“What?” You ask, incredibly distracted by the everything about him.

He chuckles pointing to the wrapped arm you can’t use as you shopped but to push the cart. “Oh, one more week then I’m free.” You comment, indicating the gauze.

“That’s good.” He comments, switching his glance back to the toothbrushes he was glancing at earlier.

How are you already messing this up? Might as well cut your losses. “Alright, nice seeing you, again.”

“Whoa, whoa.” He says, grabbing at your uninjured arm before you make your hasty exit. Your eyes peer at him curiously, wondering what he could’ve possibly wanted. “Here,”

His hands move to the leather jacket and grab a folded piece of paper to hand out to you. “What’s that?”

“My number” he answers, stating the obvious. “Shoot me a text, call me, I don’t care. Just do it. Please.”

“You’re really giving your number on a piece of paper?” You ask, tilting your head and forgetting your nervousness for two seconds. “What is this, 1986?”

He laughs, deep and whole, and for some reason it causes a heart palpitation. “Yeah, I guess I am. I planned on giving it to you at the ER, but the nurse whisked you away before I could.”

“Huh?” You ask, your brain short circuiting.

He laughs again as you accept the number, your hands holding onto it tightly as if it might disappear. He picks a toothbrush, seemingly at random and examines it, shrugging as he tosses it into his basket. “Call me,” he says, winking, and walks away from where he came from.

As he walks away, his cologne invades your senses, breath stuttering as you breathe him in. Oh, you are definitely calling him.

As soon as you’re checked out, you find yourself having to use the bathroom, so you wander to the back of the store and down the hall where the single unisex bathroom is.

It’s locked, so you check your phone as you wait, leg shaking to distract yourself from the need. When the bathroom door opens, you look up to face the patron and your brain deflates.

“Holy shit.” You gasp, facing the kind stranger, whose name you learned is Eddie from the number he gave you. You stare at one another, taking each other in, your breath heavy and your heartbeat in your ears. Why were you here, again?

Instantaneously, his hands are grabbing at the fabric of your winter jacket, tugging you forward as he places his lips on yours. Your bags drop from your hands as you gasp in surprise, your brain taking a moment to catch up.

As soon as it does, you grab onto his jacket and kiss him back, meeting his enthusiasm feverishly. His tongue darts out to meet yours, you accept it wholeheartedly, taking in how weak his lips alone make you feel.

Eddie starts to pull you backwards and into the bathroom. As soon as the door is closed, you’re pushed up against the wall, whimpering as he moves his body against you. “Fuck.” He whispers against your lips, taking a moment to catch his breath.

You hum in response, lips reaching for him again. As you do, your hands sneak past his jacket and onto his t-shirt, clutching at the fabric as you finally feel up his torso.

“Nuh uh.” He tsks, pulling back from you. When you pout, he laughs and gives you a look of pity. “I just gotta know one thing, there, sweetheart.”

“Anything.” You promise, not knowing what you’re getting into. You just wanted his lips back on yours.

“Anything, huh?” He asks, slightly taunting you. “Okay.” He leans down, breathing down your neck as he places his lips by your ear. “What were you thinking about in that waiting room while you ogled me, sweetheart?”

Okay, not that. You sigh in embarrassment, learning he knew exactly what you were thinking while you gawked at his chest, gawked at him.

“Don’t act all embarrassed, now.” He chides, observing how your eyes widen just how he remembered. “Tell me. Tell me and we’ll do every raunchy little thing that pretty brain came up with.” He taps the tip of your nose gently with the pad of his finger. You wish he'd shove it past your lips.

Your eyes widen as the arousal floods the panties you wear. All you can do is breathe hard and attempt to find the words.

“Let me help you.” He says, shifting his weight against you slightly. “Was it my hands down those tight ass jeans you were wearing?” You gasp as his fingers barely graze your jeans’ waistband. “Or even better was my tongue on that wet cunt of yours?” You shake your head no, as much as you wanted both of those things. You didn’t even get that far. “Were you on your pretty knees?” Finally, you nod, confirming exactly what you were thinking about.

“Your cock was down my throat while I nuzzled your…” you trail off, lifting his shirt to see the patch of hair again, “oh my god.”

He chuckles, rewarding you with a wet and dirty kiss. All too soon, he pulls away. “Then what, baby?”

Your mind is dumb, trying to come up with it. “Then…then you bent me over and fucked me—” you whine as his knee bucks up between your legs and makes harsh contact with your cunt, “with your hand around my throat.”

“Jesus Christ,” he swears, teeth gritted as he gives you a look at screams with lust. “Believe me, if you asked, I would’ve.”

“Yeah?” You ask, licking your lips as your head leans back into the door. “What about your cut?”

“To hell with my cut! I had a pretty girl practically giving me the eyes, you think I care about some little scratch?”

You stare at him in disbelief, your body and breaths stilling for a minute. “Then do it.”

Eddie smirks at you, and you stare at his pretty pink lips as he leans in and kisses you, both impossibly dirty and sweet simultaneously. Eddie’s knee contacts your cunt again, this time forcing a moan out your lips. Blindly you move your hand down his chest, finally gripping the hard-on straining against the fabric of his jeans.

He gives you his first moan, a sound that opens the floodgates. “Wanna get on those knees for me, baby?”

You nod, giving one last kiss to the spot where his jaw meets his neck. Slowly, you kiss your way down his body where finally you find yourself face to face with the cock that’s pushing its way out of his pants. You fumble with the button for a second before you finally reveal him, and it’s so much better than you could’ve imagined.

So much bigger, too.

You smile up at him through your eyelashes, grateful for fates allowing you in the same place at the same time. He places his hand under your chin, licking his lips as he examines your expression of desire. “Suck my cock, baby.”

You eye his treasure trail, dipping your nose into it as you inhale his musk, uninjured hand wrapping around his thick girth. You mewl at the scent; the aroma is even better than you had imagined. One of his large hands slides itself gently along your cheek, his long thumb stroking at the apple of your sweet smile. You stare up at him, kissing the underside of the head of his cock with wet lips. Your tongue pokes out, flat as you lick it slowly, taking your sweet time, admiring the way he lets out whimpers.

“Oh…shit.”

This urges you to wrap your lips around the head, your cheeks hollowing out as you suck on it gently. You take your lips off him, spitting the excess saliva in your mouth onto his shaft, your hand slowly moves up and down, jerking his length to spread the slick along his cock. The shine is pretty, the spit accentuating the pink blush.

“Pretty cock,” you compliment him, laughing breathily as you go cross-eyed just staring at it. “Tastes better than I thought it would.”

“Did you think about tasting my cock, sweet girl?”

You wrap your lips around him again, bobbing your head up and down as you confirm what he asked with a simple hum. He’s big, the tip hitting the back of your mouth and that wasn’t even half of it. You choke on him, the guttural sounds echoing loudly against the tiled walls. A want of more of him in your mouth invades your mind, not tasting nearly enough of him.

You attempt to take in more of him, choking on it even more but struggling to, despite the desperate need. “Settle down, sweet girl,” he mutters, harshly brushing his fingers against your cheek as he peers down at you. “Relax your throat. Take all those tense muscles and relax ‘em.” You think about it, letting those reflexes remain tense to rest. You’re holding back more saliva, but you fail to realize it until your mouth is flooded with spit, overflowing past the barrier of your lips. “Oh, good girl.”

It's alien but mind numbingly arousing as you feel him move down your throat, moaning around him. His fingers comb through your hair, and roughly move against your scalp. “That’s it, breathe through your nose, sweets.”

The heel of his palms rest on your forehead, moving you up and down his cock. You find it stupidly easy to submit to him, the tip hitting roughly against the back of your throat. His groans are louder than the guck, guck, guck that are hitting wall to wall against the tiles. He’s brutal about it, increasing his speed from 0 to 100 quick as a thought.

Hot tears spill over your water line down your cheeks, trailing the makeup you wear down to your throat. Your hands weave themselves against the cotton of his t-shirt, fighting to keep letting him fuck your throat. “You’re so damn good at this, sweetheart, pretty little mouth working so well.”

He finally lets go, poking his cock against the inside of your cheek one last time, appreciating the swell as the glistening from your tears shine on your face. He uses his thumb to lift your chin up to him, his darkened eyes raking over your face. His pink lips parted, his dilated pupils, the heaving of his chest, there’s nothing you’d want more than to earn this gaze again. “C’mere.”

He lifts you by your chin up to kiss you, dirtily lacing his tongue against yours. “What a good girl you are, taking it so well.” A smile lights up your face from his praise. He tugs you back in for another one, a hum vibrating against his lips. A hand of his trails down your body, single handedly unbuttoning your jeans. “Good work like that deserves a reward, hmm?”

His large hand moves past the opened fly and works itself against your panties. A gasp escapes your mouth only at the touch of his fingers on your covered folds, mewling as he keeps his eyes trained on yours. He’s not even really moving them against you, but just his touch gives you some of the pressure you needed. “Christ, you’re wet,” he comments, dipping his head to work his tongue against your pulse. “Choking on my cock really got you off, huh?”

You nod, eagerly agreeing with him. “So big.”

He smirks, pressing pressure on your clothed folds, in small circles. “You like my big cock, huh? Is it as big as you thought it would be?”

“Bigger,” you gasp, hands grabbing on any clothes he wears anxiously.

His finger easily moves the fabric aside, finger attaching itself right to your clit. The pleasure is good, eyes fluttering closed as it grows startlingly fast. “Fuck,” you swear, your voice rough. “Eddie.”

“Hmm, close?” You nod, despite the embarrassment that floods your senses. “I haven’t even started to touch you yet, baby. I still wanted to feel that tight pussy wrapped around my fingers.”

His actions mimic his words, inserting two fingers hastily into you, moving them expertly as they fuck you. With how wet you are, his two digits slide in easily. They’re long, reaching a depth in you that you could only dream about. You gush around him, music to his ears as your whimpers grow more and more pathetic. His thumb touches your clit again, rubbing frantically.

You gasp, mewling as his teeth start to nibble skillfully along the length of your neck. “Oh my god.”

Eddie’s tongue licks a sinfully long stripe up your neck to your ear, his voice intense and husky. “Cum all over my fingers, sweetheart, make a fucking mess for me.” Your hand tangles into his hair, gripping at his root. You stutter through a sentence of whines and half-finished words, failing to convey how good his fucking fingers make you feel. “So pathetic, huh?”

The words that you wanted to say were, you make me feel so good. Instead, you say, “M-ak-m, so-so good.”

Your good arm wraps itself around his shoulders, pulling his body against yours. Against your better judgment, your other hand moves his chin so your lips kiss his desperately, wanting every wet touch of them on yours. Your whimper into his mouth, pussy fluttering around his fingers as you finally cum, drenching his fingers just as he had requested.

“There she is,” he mutters, his flat palm moving under your jacket and shirt and grazing gently along your bare torso.

It takes you a second to recover from it, still feeling the effects of it throughout your body as it lingers. You unzip your jacket, letting it fall on the bathroom floor. You can’t find it in yourself to care for the moment, but it will find itself in the wash later. As it’s a walk-in bathroom, there are poles next and adjacent to the toilet. Perfect.

“Fuck me?” You ask, eyes glazed over as they reach his.

He chuckles, hands landing on your hips. Your jeans are pushed down your legs, resting just below your knees. “I thought you'd never ask, sweets.”

You grin, pushing his jacket off his shoulders onto the floor. Before it even hits the floor, you grab onto the fabric of his shirt and step backward over your own jacket to pull him across the room to the said metal bar installed on the wall.

His fingers slink into his pocket that’s now down his leg, holding a condom between you and him. You pick it up from his fingers and fling it across the room. “I’m on birth control.”

Eddie’s hands grab under your legs when your back hits the wall, supporting you surprisingly well as your ass rests on his forearms.

He sighs, eyes half mooned as he stares down at you. “My arms are occupied, mind helping me out here?”

You giggle, spitting on your hand and grabbing between the two of you at the cock that keeps brushing against your inner thigh, moving it against your entrance. It slides in easily, the mushroom tip pushing in as two of you moan in sync. Your hand moves to the bar on the wall, starting to help him as you lean some of your weight onto it.

“How is your pussy even better than I thought it’d be?” Eddie asks, gasping in uneven breaths.

“So, so full,” you gasp back, his size far bigger than you’ve ever had. “So big.”

“You’re fucking tight, sweets.” He mutters, jaw dropping as he watches you watching him.

“Move.” You urge him, the stretch too much yet his still hips are driving you crazy. “Need you to move,” It comes out as a pathetic whine and you know it, but you’re long past caring at this point.

“Say no more,” Eddie mutters, starting to move slowly, his hips rolling perfectly against you.

He hits deep and he hits hard. “Just like that! Fuck!”

“Your pussy, fuck, baby, yours is just a new fucking standard!”

You curl into his neck, nipping and starting to mark the pale skin with purple, teeth digging in harder the faster and harder he fucks. You can’t answer his compliment, but the way you tighten around him is confirmation enough that you are in complete agreement with him. It’s like he knows exactly how you like it before you tell him, intuitively knowing you before even has the opportunity to find out.

He watches every reaction you give him carefully, how your legs tighten around his waist, your hands twisting themselves in his shirt, the mewls that leave your mouth mixed with words that you never finish, he takes every hint as gospel. He’s always intuitive to what a partner of his needs, but you’re a special case, every reaction you give him only makes him insatiable for more. The way your eyes roll back in your head is everything he’s ever wanted to see from you and more, never could he have imagined anything like this when you glanced at him in the E.R.

“Fuck, your pussy is so good, I’m gonna cum, sweets,” Eddie moans, fingers digging into your bare thigh, the pressure surely bruising the skin.

“Choke me.” You gasp, voice desperate for him.

“Hands are occupied, babe.” He answers, gruff and brows furrowed.

You tap the bar, using both hands now. “I got it.”

He whines, high-pitched and gorgeous. The kind of whine you listen to on men whimpering audios. Maybe you can make it happen more. Maybe one day he’ll let you worship him for a few hours…the idea is enticing. His large hand wraps itself around your throat, the metal of his rings causing harsh friction on your neck. He admires the way you revel in it, tongue poking out of your mouth like the slut you are for him. “You’re more of a slut than I thought you are, hmm?”

You nod, his strong arm flexed and mouth watering. The drool that slips down your tongue is pure proof of it, dampening your shirt in a little streak.

“What a good little pathetic slut,” he grins, rubbing your jawline with his thumb. His grip tightens, only enough to send stars in your vision.

You tap his arm, begging him for air. “A slut for you.” You gasp, whining for him. “Want your cum, please, please cum in me.”

“Can you beg for me one more time?” He asks, your question almost making him erupt on the spot.

“Please, please, please,” you beg, arms starting to lose their strength. “I wanna be dripping from you, so bad.”

“Yeah, want Daddy’s cum?” he asks, hands gripping into your hair.

Of course, this man has a daddy kink, you couldn’t expect anything less from him. “Yes, Daddy.” You whine, grinning at his hold on you. “Fill me up.”

“Baby, Daddy’s gonna fill you up—Jesus Christ.” He interrupts himself, cutting himself off as he ruts into you a final, gasping, sweaty time. He twitches in you, feeling him fill you up as some of starts to trickle out of your pussy and down your thigh.

His hand lets go of your hair, wrapping around your torso as he pulls you into an embrace. This is the kind of sex that takes time to recover from, both out of breath, his dick still twitching. A smile takes over your features, invading every muscle in your face.

“So, think you’re gonna call me?” He asks, hand moving itself under your shirt to gently brush against your bare skin.

“I’ll definitely text you.” You answer, chuckling at the annoyed look he shoots you when he pulls back in your embrace. “Oh, come on.”

He chuckles, and for some odd reason the last thing you expect from him is another kiss, his lips working marvelously against yours. They’re much gentler, much sweeter than you expected, yet everything you’d crave from him.

“What was that?” You ask, watching his two gorgeous brown eyes.

“What, you think I’m gonna let you go after that?” He asks, half a smile on his face. “Wanna come to my place later?”

“Later?” You ask, one eyebrow quirked at him.

“I’m heading home right now, wanna join me?” He kisses the top of your eyebrow, your cheekbone, your jawline, your still covered shoulder. “I kind of need to spend a few hours with my nose buried in that pretty little cunt of yours.”

Your jaw drops, your mouth drying completely from his admission. “Y-yeah, th-that sounds nice.”

He laughs at your stutter; your pussy having tightened around him upon the mention of it.

Three knocks hit the door, loud and abrupt. “Hurry the fuck up!”

You look at one another with wide eyes, laughing at the disruption. He backs up, his cock leaving your entrance being a loss you whimper at. “Don’t worry, sweets. I will fuck you more than enough times to satisfy that need.”

“Dunno,” you start, legs shaky as you land on them, “I think I’m pretty insatiable at this point.”

“Then we’ll just have to keep going, won’t we?” Eddie asks, pulling his jeans and boxers up his legs.

“And if I’m never satisfied?” you ask, tilting your head as you pull up your own pants.

“Well then I guess we’ll just never stop.”

You grin at his answer, biting your lip excitedly.

The silence is comfortable as you pick your jackets back up and the bags on the ground. His fingers intertwined with yours, leading you down the hall past the angry customer and out the front door of the store.

He offers to eventually take you back to your car when you need to go back home, wanting more time with you even if it’s the mere ten minutes that it takes to get to his apartment.

Not one moment is wasted as he yanks you to his bedroom, pushing you onto his bed. As promised, your jeans are yanked down your legs quick as can be, burying his nose deep in your cunt.

Only after the eighth orgasm does Eddie yank off your clothes, followed by his, finally skin against skin as he rails you in every position, even the ones you didn’t know were possible.

You might have to thank your brother for spraining your wrist, it’s the best thing he’s ever done for you.

-

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